#it's more just a personal preference than anything i can argue for

[menciemeer]

It's interesting to me that (unless I really missed something) after the point where Hannibal sends Dolarhyde after Will's family, Will stops framing his work on the Red Dragon case as something altruistic.

Prior to that, Will talks about saving people. He even, immediately before the attack on his family, tries to convince Hannibal to help him via an appeal to his better nature (!!!)

WILL GRAHAM Do you know who they [the family that Dolarhyde is going to target] are? HANNIBAL Yes. WILL GRAHAM You're willing to let them die. HANNIBAL They're not my family, Will. And I'm not letting them die. You are.

(Which, just, listen. Hannibal is maybe the single least likely person, ever, to be swayed by the argument "maybe it would be better if fewer people died." Honestly.)

I just think it's interesting that after the attack on Will's family, that whole motivation (or pretense-at-motivation) is quietly dropped. It's not about saving the next family and it's not even really about the fear that Dolarhyde will try to finish the job. ("I can't go home until the Red Dragon is out of the way" reads more psychological to me than a statement of actual physical danger, although the viewer does also have more direct insight into Dolarhyde than Will does, and we know that he doesn't really seem interested in trying again...)

Will starts drifting further into Dolarhyde's mindset right at the end of the season, and by the time the final fight at the cliff house happens, it doesn't really feel about anything other than self-actualization. Will enacts his own becoming upon Dolarhyde. It's not about who Dolarhyde is or what he might do in the future so much as it is about Will, and what Will wants.

Anyway. The whole point of this is that it's a fun alternative (and, yes, compatible) motivation for Hannibal to direct Dolarhyde at Will's family in the first place. Will came back to the FBI and he came back to Hannibal, but he wrapped himself in a shroud of morality that doesn't align with Hannibal's view of Will's underlying self. Beyond the jealousy angle, Hannibal is making Dolarhyde bad in a way that is immensely personal to Will, so that Will can't deny that how good it would feel to hurt him.

[haru-dipthong]

Gendered pronouns in Japanese vs English

In Revolutionary Girl Utena, the main character Utena is a girl (it says so in the title), but very conspicuously uses the masculine first person pronoun 僕 (boku) and dresses in (a variation of) the boys school uniform. Utena's gender, and gender in general, is a core theme of the work. And yet, I haven’t seen a single translation or analysis post where anyone considers using anything other than she/her for Utena when speaking of her in English. This made me wonder: how does one’s choice of pronouns in Japanese correspond to what one’s preferred pronouns would be in English?

There are 3 main differences between gendered pronouns in Japanese vs English

Japanese pronouns are used to refer to yourself (first-person), while English pronouns are used to refer to others (third-person)

The Japanese pronoun you use will differ based on context

Japanese pronouns signify more than just gender

Let’s look at each of these differences in turn and how these differences might lead to a seeming incongruity between one’s Japanese pronoun choice and one’s English pronoun choice (such as the 僕 (boku) vs she/her discrepancy with Utena).

Part 1: First-person vs third-person

While Japanese does technically have gendered third person pronouns （彼、彼女） they are used infrequently¹ and have much less cultural importance placed on them than English third person pronouns. Therefore, I would argue that the cultural equivalent of the gender-signifying third-person pronoun in English is the Japanese first-person pronoun. Much like English “pronouns in bio”, Japanese first-person pronoun choice is considered an expression of identity.

Japanese pronouns are used exclusively to refer to yourself, and therefore a speaker can change the pronoun they’re using for themself on a whim, sometimes mid-conversation, without it being much of an incident. Meanwhile in English, Marquis Bey argues that “Pronouns are like tiny vessels of verification that others are picking up what you are putting down” (2021). By having others use them and externally verify the internal truth of one’s gender, English pronouns, I believe, are seen as more truthful, less frivolous, than Japanese pronouns. They are seen as signifying an objective truth of the referent’s gender; if not objective then at least socially agreed-upon, while Japanese pronouns only signify how the subject feels at this particular moment — purely subjective.

Part 2: Context dependent pronoun use

Japanese speakers often don’t use just one pronoun. As you can see in the below chart, a young man using 俺 (ore) among friends might use 私 (watashi) or 自分 (jibun) when speaking to a teacher. This complicates the idea that these pronouns are gendered, because their gendering depends heavily on context. A man using 私 (watashi) to a teacher is gender-conforming, a man using 私 (watashi) while drinking with friends is gender-non-conforming. Again, this reinforces the relative instability of Japanese pronoun choice, and distances it from gender.

Part 3: Signifying more than gender

English pronouns signify little besides the gender of the antecedent. Because of this, pronouns in English have come to be a shorthand for expressing one’s own gender experience - they reflect an internal gendered truth. However, Japanese pronoun choice doesn’t reflect an “internal truth” of gender. It can signify multiple aspects of your self - gender, sexuality, personality.

For example, 僕 (boku) is used by gay men to communicate that they are bottoms, contrasted with the use of 俺 (ore) by tops. 僕 (boku) may also be used by softer, academic men and boys (in casual contexts - note that many men use 僕 (boku) in more formal contexts) as a personality signifier - maybe to communicate something as simplistic as “I’m not the kind of guy who’s into sports.” 俺 (ore) could be used by a butch lesbian who still strongly identifies as a woman, in order to signify sexuality and an assertive personality. 私 (watashi) may be used by people of all genders to convey professionalism. The list goes on.

I believe this is what’s happening with Utena - she is signifying her rebellion against traditional feminine gender roles with her use of 僕 (boku), but as part of this rebellion, she necessarily must still be a girl. Rather than saying “girls don’t use boku, so I’m not a girl”, her pronoun choice is saying “your conception of femininity is bullshit, girls can use boku too”.

Through translation, gendered assumptions need to be made, sometimes about real people. Remember that he/they, she/her, they/them are purely English linguistic constructs, and don’t correspond directly to one’s gender, just as they don’t correspond directly to the Japanese pronouns one might use. Imagine a scenario where you are translating a news story about a Japanese genderqueer person. The most ethical way to determine what pronouns they would prefer would be to get in contact with them and ask them, right? But what if they don’t speak English? Are you going to have to teach them English, and the nuances of English pronoun choice, before you can translate the piece? That would be ridiculous! It’s simply not a viable option². So you must make a gendered assumption based on all the factors - their Japanese pronoun use (context dependent!), their clothing, the way they present their body, their speech patterns, etc.

If translation is about rewriting the text as if it were originally in the target language, you must also rewrite the gender of those people and characters in the translation. The question you must ask yourself is: How does their gender presentation, which has been tailored to a Japanese-language understanding of gender, correspond to an equivalent English-language understanding of gender? This is an incredibly fraught decision, but nonetheless a necessary one. It’s an unsatisfying dilemma, and one that poignantly exposes the fickle, unstable, culture-dependent nature of gender.

Notes and References

¹ Usually in Japanese, speakers use the person’s name directly to address someone in second or third person

² And has colonialist undertones as a solution if you ask me - “You need to pick English pronouns! You ought to understand your gender through our language!”

Bey, Marquis— 2021 Re: [No Subject]—On Nonbinary Gender

Rose divider taken from this post

[lambilegs]

best friend's older sister!sevika headcanons pt. 2

contains: modern!au, nsfw content (so minors/ageless blogs dni!!), cursing, reader is mentioned to have family issues, hcs + blurbs set pre-confession and post-confession, mention of spanking, strap-on sex (reader receiving), breeding kink, dirty talk, degrading (the word "slut" is used), humiliation kink, sevika physically teasing reader at family dinner, mention of smoking, reader's body is referred to w the terms "pussy" and "clit"

pt. 1

best friend's older sister!sevika who pauses outside her door when she hears the muffled noises of your crying, followed by her sister's voice. her eyebrows immediately draw in concern, stomach turning as possibilities run through her mind. you mentioned having an exam earlier this week -- did you fail it? was someone bothering you? did you need her to do anything?

when her sister's in the shower, she knocks quietly on the door, your call of, "yeah?" pushing her to enter.

once she does, her eyes immediately scan your face, looking for signs of distress. when she finds your eyes pink and glossy, a bolt of nervousness shoots through her, taking her off guard for a second.

once she swallows down the feeling, she tilts her head at you, leaning on the frame. "all okay?" she asks, trying to keep her voice levelled, not wanting to reveal just how much worry is stirring within.

"yeah." your mouth is twisted in something resembling pain, and she eyes you carefully as you sit up in the bed. "it's just, you know, family stuff."

she nods. she understands that, alright. most people would think that being the older of the two, she'd fight with her father less than her little sister, but the truth is that out of everyone in her house, they butt heads more than anyone else. she usually shrugs it off when anyone asks, with her most popular coping mechanism being fuming in her bedroom with a cigar while heavy music blankets over all her thoughts. probably not the healthiest way to react, but it's worked for this long. besides, she doesn't have the patience to sit at a desk and do that journalling bullshit her sister always prattles on about.

"sorry." she contemplates for a few moments on what else she could say to help, rocking on the balls of her sock-clad feet. all she comes up with is, "families suck," silently berating herself for being so incompetent.

but, at least you laugh, the noise a bit breathless, so sevika takes pride in that. "yeah, that's the understatement of the century."

"do you wanna, I don't know, talk about it?" just to ease the weight of the question, she mutters, "you know, I'm pretty good at belting insults at anyone who deserves it."

"oh, yes, I'm sure of it." you nod at the wall where the shower can be heard from. "she's told me how vicious you were in middle school."

she bristles, feeling her stomach tighten in embarrassment. she was a little asshole, alright, and she can't lie, her younger sister bore the brunt of it. something she secretly regrets now -- not that she'd ever admit to it. she probably never would've revealed it you in the first place if not for her sister ratting her out.

"well, I-- that was middle school. I'm not like that now."

your eyebrow raises, lips tilting up. "you know, some people would argue that who you are as a kid shows what kind of person you are at the core of it."

she scoffs. "who, freud? considering the other stuff I've heard about that guy, I think I'll pass on believing that bullshit."

"oh, c'mon, I can tell you all the merits about his theories."

"and while that sounds riveting, I guess, I'd prefer knowing if you... you know, need anything?" she shrugs, her eyes trained on you.

you smile softly, the corners of your lips crinkling. "thank you. I don't feel like talking about it much now, but I appreciate it a lot."

she nods, rasping on the doorframe, unsure as to how to proceed now.

"huh, someone's not really used to this."

she rolls her eyes, sending you a half-hearted glare. "oh, shut up."

best friend's older sister!sevika whose attention towards you is beginning to become obvious, even for you. she's started seeking you out instead of any of your other friends when she's looking for her sister, and when she enters the room, her eyes always flicker to you immediately. it makes you feel like a spotlight is casted upon you, your entire body, your entire being, reserved for sevika.

one day, one of the girls in your group leans over to you, her tone lowered with conspiracy. "you know, I think sevika has a thing for you."

your best friend groans, smacking her arm. "god, please! that's my sister, for god's sake."

"and? she's hot?"

her face morphs into complete disgust, eyes squeezing shut. "please, that's so fucking gross."

while you laugh along with the conversation, you can't help but warily glance to your best friend, mind whirring with thoughts of whether or not she's being earnest. you and sevika aren't, well, anything really -- at least not anything officially declared or acted upon. for months, it's just been tosses and back-and-forths of teasing and flirting. but, there has been no step over the threshold that divides you two between nameless, vague chemistry and the agreement to work towards a real relationship.

but, still, there is something there, and you cradle a hope in your chest that it'll turn into more one day, an actual thing that can be named. but, it's hard to feel positive about that outcome when you're not even certain if your best friend would approve or feel comfortable.

she meets your pondering stare, and you immediately backtrack, turning away so she can't read what's on your face.

a moment later, her palm rests on your knee and she laughs, tone as casual as ever when she says, "honestly, if anyone could tame her, it's you."

your lips part in shock, but she simply squeezes down gently before carrying on with the conversation.

best friend's older sister!sevika who pretty much wants to wring her cousin's neck out when she spots her conversing with you. well, it's not the conversing that's the problem -- she's not that crazy. or at least, she pretends not to be.

it's the fact that she knows her cousin hits on every one of her and her sister's friends, and she's clearly doing that with you right now, eyes half-lidded and voice lowered to what sevika hopes sounds more like darth vader than sexy to you. god, she nearly wants to kill her sister for being stupid enough to leave you alone with her. but, judging from her sister's shit-eating grin from where she stands at the food table, sevika suspects that it was intentional.

she tries not to crush her plastic red cup in her hand and send her vodka-spiked punch spilling everywhere. when her sister had casually mentioned last night that you'd be showing up to this family barbecue, sevika, much to her own embarrassment, had felt an immediate buzz of anticipation at knowing you'd be there. it's stupid, she knows. she's a grown ass woman, not some teenager -- yet, there she was, biting back a smile as she walked up the flight of stairs back to her bedroom. and when she reached her destination, she could barely focus, her thoughts straying to how she'll get a rise out of you rather than remaining on the toy she was meant to be building for the kid she babysits, isha.

she couldn't lie to herself about it. she was goddamn excited.

if only she had known how the day would wind up. it's nearing to late afternoon, and still, she hasn't spoken to you once. as soon as you and her sister had reached, the two of you had met with your usual gaggle of girls. and sevika hadn't been in the mood to entertain their giggles and leering stares upon coming to get you from them. and so, she waited. and then, you were dragged off to talk to her sister's favourite cousins, and then, to the idiot you're currently speaking to. a few minutes into what sevika hopes is a cringe-inducing conversation, her sister had left you to go to the food table.

she knows she has no reason to be jealous of her cousin. after all, look at the dimwit, she barely has game. she's so flashy with it, no subtlety. if you weren't the object of her cousin's attention, she might've actually taken some amusement in watching from afar.

but, no, it just had to be you. she can't even blame her cousin -- after all, you do look damn good, that's for certain. if this wasn't a family event, she'd be dragging you to the nearest corner, pushing you against the wall, and teasing you until you're a squirming little mess. god, she's just throbbing at the idea of it.

but, the feeling gets washed over with ice when her dumb cousin starts stroking her knuckles against your arm. stupid kid. and why are you smiling at her? do you not realize she's flirting? do you like that she's flirting? oh, now that thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth.

her composure snaps when she sees you laugh, and with a firm toss of her cup in the nearest garbage bag, she calmly makes her way to you. she knows she ought to be better than this. she should be the one with sense, with rationality -- the one who keeps her shit together while you become a fumbling mess whose feelings might as well be written on your forehead. that should be you. not her.

but, it's like her mind is working on overdrive, all her instincts honed in on making sure she takes you away and has you all to herself.

when she slides next to you two, your jump in surprise, looking up at her. her eyes rove over your features, drinking you in, wondering momentarily if you even realize how crazy you drive her.

"hey, sev, are you looking for your sister? because she's--"

"no," she cuts in, her palm bracing against the small of your back. "give us a sec."

"wha-- but, I--"

sevika doesn't give her cousin a moment to protest, firmly guiding you away to the front of her house, which has been left secluded now that people are eating in the backyard.

when you stumble into her back from her sudden halt, you blow out a frustrated puff of air. "what the hell was that?"

she feels her thick, dark eyebrows furrow, her gaze casted down on you, unwavering and focused. "I should be asking you that. why were you talking to her?"

"your sister left me with her!" you protest, your voice raising a pitch she'd find cuter if it weren't for the sour taste in her mouth.

"and? that makes you incapable of leaving a conversation afterwards?"

your eye twitches. "and why should I have left the conversation?"

sevika swallows, feeling her throat bob with the movement. if she acts like some jealous girlfriend, it'll be all too clear what it is she feels. and that's a bit too exposing for her. sure, you two flirt and push-and-pull, but it's something she could easily pass as a game if ever needed be. but, jealousy, disliking you talking to someone other than her? that's way too obvious, and there's no way of covering that up.

so, she takes a different route. "you know, if you're gonna be hitting on someone at this thing, it should be--"

"you?"

she nearly splutters, blinking hard at your growing smirk before continuing. "no. it should be someone other than the fuckboy-wanna-be relative who hits on anything with a pair of nice legs and pretty eyes."

your smile only widens and sevika has the sudden urge to bend you over her lap until you're a sobbing mess.

"so, you think I have nice legs and pretty eyes?"

"are you dense? how is that what you focus on?" despite the harsh undertone of her words, she can feel her body stiffening up under your watchful gaze, desperately hoping you don't realize just how badly she wants your attention. it feels pathetic, really, to be putting up a fit like this because just you spoke to someone flirtatious other than her. shit, she needs to save some face.

"yeah, because I think it's weird how you're dictating who I can speak to as though you're my girlfriend or something!"

"that's not how I'm acting--"

"yes, it is!" you scoff, stalking up to her and pointing a finger against her chest, the contact making her jerk back from the spark it leaves. "you wouldn't be this pissed if it was just about concern."

she's silent for a few seconds, her mind running through possible comebacks. the only one she can think of is a hard, "you don't know that."

you tilt your head at her, as though she's some kid in need of a scolding. it only exacerbates her frustration, causing it to flare up low in her gut. "well, if it's just about you being concerned, then let me continue talking to her. you warned me, I took it in stride, and if things go wrong, you can always rub it in my face late, okay?"

she sighs, beginning to regret having ever acted out now that this is the turn the situation is taking. you were supposed to take her words in, and do as she says. instead, you're arguing back, just like you always do. but, she knows that at this point, she'd be a hypocrite to complain about it. she knows it's why she likes you.

"you really want that?"

you cross your arms over your chest, and sevika tries not to let her eyes stray downwards. "is there a reason why I shouldn't?"

stupid mind games. sometimes, she hated being gay because of this.

she likes you, sure, but she doesn't have the patience to beat around the bush. which she's aware is hypocritical and stupid, considering that's what she's been doing this entire conversation. but, still.

so, she shrugs. "beats me."

your eyes flash with something, jaw clenching. sevika can't tell if it's a look of determination or anger.

but, what does it matter if you're spinning around to stomp back into the backyard?

she releases an exasperated breath, fishing for her cigarettes.

best friend's older sister!sevika whose voice makes you jump when you're stirring instant noodles in a frothy pot of water later that night.

"jesus, sevika!" you gasp, your other hand flying to clutch your chest. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"it's my house, remember?" she dryly remarks, padding over to the fridge and grabbing a carton of milk. pinching the flap open, she drinks straight from it. you'd find it gross if it weren't for the way her lips wrap around the soggy cardboard material, the muscles of her neck protruding as she gulps it down.

when she bends down to put it back, you turn away, your stomach churning from how any bit of laughter is totally drained from her voice, leaving it flat and achingly unfamiliar.

you've felt guilty since the barbecue. sure, it's annoying that she makes demands of you without actually admitting her feelings. but, it's clear that she was upset in that moment. so, maybe you should've been a tad nicer.

"uh, sevika?" you meekly call out right as she's about to exit the kitchen.

she freezes in the entryway, casting you a sidelong glance over her shoulder, which is pinched from the strap of her tight tank top. god, you wanna kiss the indent it leaves.

"I..." you trail off, shifting side to side on your feet, the low bubbling of the water the only noise filling the room. you don't know what's too much or too little, so you mull over your words before tentatively saying, "you know, I'm not interested in your cousin. like, at all. I had no intention of flirting back with her, or, like, pursuing something with her."

she's silent for a few seconds, her eyes flicking away as her jaw tenses, which sends her cheeks hollowing out. you stare at her for a few seconds before focusing your attention back to stirring the noodles, needing something to occupy your thoughts other than the thick, stifling tension seizing the air.

finally, she speaks, her voice low but firm with surety. "well, I didn't want you to flirt with her... for reasons other than what I said."

your stomach tightens up in anxious, gut-wrenching excitement, forcing your mouth to remain in a clenched line. you know this isn't exactly a confession, but it's unspoken between you two -- what she means, that is. there could only be one reason other than concern that would explain how protective she was earlier. a reason that, sure, you're not certain about regarding the details or her intentions, but that nonetheless has you feeling like you could jump with the amount of energy surging through you at the mention of it. no matter how vague.

you can sense she won't say anymore, though, her body rigid with tension. so, to try to lighten the mood, your own body sagging in relief now that you two have somewhat made amends, you drawl out, "yeah, that much was clear."

she snickers, turning fully to you and propping her arm on the door frame. you expect her to give her own retort, but instead, she just... watches you. smirk slowly curling on her face, eyes crinkling in amusement, she simply stares at you.

after a few moments of feeling like the side of your head is burning from her razor-sharp gaze, you say, "what?"

the corner of her mouth quirks up further. "for someone who says it was obvious, that was a pretty big grin you had on your face just now."

you huff indignantly, ducking you head down to the noodles in order to avoid getting caught in your flustered state. "well, I'm just grinning because my noodles are almost done."

she peers at the time flashing over the stove before shaking her head and grimacing at the pot. "why are you even eating this crap at 2:00AM? we have actual food in the fridge."

"I was craving this," you defend with a squeak, shooting her what you pray is a convincing glare despite your heart racing from her earlier words. "besides, I didn't know if your family would be having the leftovers."

"don't be stupid," she chides gruffly. after a pause, she adds, "you know you're family."

this time, you can't resist the beam that overtakes your face, eyes squeezing in delight as your cheeks throb pleasantly from the joy embracing you. you've, of course, heard this sentiment from your best friend plenty of times before, but never from sevika.

"thanks," you murmur feebly, sending her a small, bash smile.

she simply nods in return, her lips pressing together as she continues observing you.

part of you basks under it. the attention of her focused grey eyes, the heavy weight of her gaze -- it all sends a thrill to you that's hot and burning, making you feel you're being revived from a lifelong slumber. how did you ever manage without the life-altering feeling which is sevika's gaze directed to you?

"so, I guess I should head up," she says, sticking a thumb behind her.

your body immediately tenses in protest. she can't leave -- not like this, not after this tender moment you two just shared. not when her presence here holds the contrast of warm assurance and ice-cold surprise that you're always craving.

a loud "no!" bursts from your lip as she's just about to turn.

when she sends you an inquisitive stare, forehead wrinkled in confusion, you feel your face heat up in embarrassment over your over-eagerness. but, it's too late to scale back, so you force yourself to proceed with, "I just-- why don't we hang out a bit? maybe watch gilmore girls. and, I don't know, share the noodles and, well, left overs."

her eyes widen, lips parting in surprise, and it almost makes you want to cackle. how could she even be surprised you want to spend time with her? are you just that good at hiding your want for her, or is she that romantically dense?

"um, yeah, okay," she says, a hand curving up along the back of her neck. "but, don't think I'll eat that crap you're making."

your shoulders ease at the joke, laughing as you wag your wooden spoon at her. "it's good, okay? I don't know why you'd deprive yourself of it."

"if I didn't deprive myself, I wouldn't have these." she flexes her bicep, and you try not to let your gaze roam over the toned muscle bulging out. no need to satisfy her that much. "and wouldn't that be a pity for you?"

you bristle, but still find yourself unable to quell the laughter that bubbles up your throat. "fuck off. my life isn't so sad that your muscles are my sanctuary."

"fair point -- maybe 'religion' is a better term."

ugh, her grin is infuriatingly coy as she heads back to the fridge, pulling out a tupperware, her veins bulging out as she grips it.

you want to fuck her so bad. and then, yell at her. and then, fuck her again.

"just, shut up and heat up the leftovers," you grumble, turning your back to her as her laugh, hearty and scratchy in all the right ways, flows from her lips.

honestly, the lack of eye contact is for both of your guys' benefit. god knows how you'll react if you see that cute gap again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who, after you two start dating, places her long fingers on your thigh when you join her family for dinner. she knows it's a bit evil of her, but she can't help it. your body is just so reactive -- a fact that she was delighted to learn upon your first time sleeping together. it just makes it so much fun to toy with you like this.

your leg immediately flinches when her fingernails skim along your skin, and she'd probably smile if she wasn't so well-trained in public play to know exactly how to keep a straight face.

but, you? she knows you're struggling. she can feel it in the way you shift in your seat, shoulders rolling as her warm palm flattens against your skin, her fingers sinking into the plush of your thigh. or how your body suddenly lurches forward when she suddenly pinches her nails into the skin, causing everyone at the table to dart concerned glances your way.

you sheepishly laugh it off, shaking your head and saying, "sorry, I, um-- I just got a weird shiver."

sevika honestly feels impressed that you're able to keep your cool this well, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. she knows it probably goes against the whole supportive girlfriend thing, but seeing you manage to remain calm only makes her want to test you even more.

and so, she inches her fingers up so that they smooth along the tender skin of your inner thigh. you immediately stiffen up, your back straightening to an almost comedic right angle. sevika's mouth twists, trying to hold in a chuckle at how you writhe when her blunt nails begin to trace shapes into the hot patch of skin. god, she wants to dip her fingers in further, feel the tight heat of your pussy wrap around her digit as she pumps it in and out of you.

she clears her own throat to cut off her breaths from getting too shallow. god, she needs a cold shower or some shit. plus, the entire point was to get you hot and bothered, not her.

trying to gather her bearings, she presses her fingers into the sensitive area, slightly digging in the curves of her nails, trying to replicate she sharp sting you feel when she sinks her teeth into that spot before eating you out.

it seems se's successful, based on the way your legs shift again, pressing together and trapping her hand there. and your cute face is noticeably distracted, expression glazed over, lips hanging open.

when your fingers curl around her wrist, keeping her hand there, she smirks behind the rim of her glass, taking a careful sip before wrenching her hand free from your grip, continuing with her meal.

through the animated conversation her sister and old man are having, she can hear you grunt in frustration.

but, she doesn't even turn to you. after all, what would be the fun if she just gave you what you wanted?

best friend's older sister!sevika who shakes you from your deep sleep when you're curled up on the mattress in her living room, your best friend fast asleep on the couch. before you can mumble incoherently, your eyes barely making out her broad frame through the sleep-tinged blur, she presses a finger to your mouth, quietly shushing you.

you nod, your heavy eyes blinking rapidly to register what's going on. but, you can barely get a whisper in before sevika scoops you up, her strong arms easily carrying you up the stairs to her bedroom. you have to bite back a gasp at the sudden manhandling, though a spike of arousal zips through you from how easily she takes you to her bedroom, dropping you unceremoniously onto her navy blankets.

you frown at her, eyes sharpened into a glare. "sevika, wha--"

she plants her lips on you, crawling on top of you and pinning your body to the bed with hers. she's sloppy and ungraceful with it, shoving her tongue into your mouth and swirling it around yours as a hand slides up to loosely grip your throat.

"you didn't think I'd leave you hanging, did you?" she mumbles against your lips, her hand drifting down your body to start fiddling with the waistband of your pajama shorts.

"well, you already did once, so I wouldn't be surprised if it happened again," you murmur against her prodding mouth, trying to keep your voice dignified in light of all the pants and whines beginning to crawl up your throat.

"awe, c'mon, baby," she snickers, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your cheek while the rest of you practically combusts from the low, scolding tone she takes when calling you that. "even I have my limits."

and, oh, how fucking good it feels for sevika's limits to be broken, you think as she pounds into you with her dark purple strap-on, her hand over your mouth as she pumps her hips steadily, hissing whenever her bed frame bumps too loudly against the wall.

you wrap your legs around her, nails raking up her back as the toy plunges into you over and over again, stretching your walls taut. it feels good, so good, the dull ache of her nearly-too-big dildo making your entire pussy throb in a way that makes you feel impossibly full.

"listen to that," she whispers against your ear, the hot moist of her breath making you break out into shivers. "your pussy is soaking my new sheets. such a mess you're making."

god, you just leak even more from those words, the mix of your juices and the lube creating deliciously loud squelching noises in her room, only growing more pointed and firm when she begins to drill particularly hard, intentional thrusts into you. the movements have the bulb her of dick pushing against your g-spot with every rock of her body, and it sends a warm tingle through you, wrapping your nerves in pleasure and sparking them to life.

you whine against her hand, eyes rolling back when her cold, mechanical finger begins to flick along your clit. the cool, steel-hard texture of it against your swollen little nub has your body arching up, each brush and flick feeling so heightened through all the other sensations running through you.

"yeah," she chuckles darkly, grazing her teeth along your earlobe. "you like that, don't you? getting this pussy slutted out, having me fucking up your guts and making room for my babies?"

your hips jolt up at those words, a loud whine erupting from your mouth before you can stop it. sevika hisses at it, pressing her mouth to yours, her thighs smacking against yours as she continues drilling you into her mattress.

"be quiet," she rasps, her breaths shattering into uneven little pants. "you want everyone in this house to know what a slut you are? you want everyone to know you couldn't last a night in here without getting dicked down by your best friend's sister?"

you can barely respond, your entire body set aflame with the pleasure of her on top of you, surrounding you with nothing but warm skin, hard muscle and filthy, nasty little noises.

"ah," you moan quietly against her mouth, fingers tracing the indents your nails have left in her back. "feels s'good, I just-- I can't--"

"I know, baby, I know," she grunts, fingers wrapping around your jaw and shaking your face like you're her personal doll. "no need to worry your pretty head with talking, yeah? just be good and let me cream this pussy."

and so, you do. over and over and over again.

best friend's older sister!sevika who tries not to smirk too hard when her sister asks over breakfast why you're wearing a turtleneck in the middle of july.

[victoryai]

1ST HOUSE RULER IN THE SIGNS

Today, we just gonna deal with 1st Lord in the signs, it don matter If your 1st lord is sun or moon (that's not what I'm dealing with). What im dealing with now is the sign which your 1st lord is and that sign can be in whichever house.

Instead of focusing on the 1st lord planet, were focusing on the sign its placed in. Clear??

🔭1st Lord in Aries ♈: You naturally have a sharp personality. You are someone who is able and willing. Someone with a mind of his/her own to make decisions. Someone with a temper, somewhat harsh at times 😂. I'd define you as a go getter never giving up so easily. Also possessing a face card that is hard to forget

🔭1st Lord in Taurus ♉: You are someone with a somewhat refined personality, calm and grounded. With a love for luxury and comfort, money is a necessity!!. Tendency to gain weight easily cos you take in a lot of calories 😉.And you easily get too attached to material things.

🔭1st Lord in Gemini ♊: You are a swift person both mentally and physically. Multitasker is your second name. With your ardent style of communication, you can win over the hardest hearts. You are inclined to study anything interesting that crosses your path.

🔭1st Lord in Cancer ♋: You are a private person, preferring to keep to yourself most of the times. Family oriented and caring. Likes to have a house and a home all in one . Someone who understands the meaning of emotions. Very close to Mom at times

🔭1st Lord in Leo ♌: I'd describe you as a person of the moment 😆. Someone with a zeal to live life to the fullest. A bright personality. A lover of attention . Stealing the spotlight everywhere you go with your childlike energy. Taking pride in being your true self. And having all the crushes to yourself 😡

🔭1st Lord in Virgo ♍: If I met you five years ago I'd testify that you still look same even today. You possess that forever young look . You might look petite but you are internally loaded with alot of info. An analytical mind is part of your inbuilt characteristics. You tend to argue your way out of chaotic situations 😂.

🔭1st Lord in Libra ♎: That feminine energy is very noticeable 😉. The way you walk, talk, move is an evidence of balance and charm . The rate at which you steal hearts is alarming 🚨. You're a people's person, someone who loves to walk with people rather than alone.

🔭1st Lord In Scorpio ♏: No doubt you're a secretive person. You're always evolving and adapting. Someone who easily benefits from others in one way or the other. An deep epitome of mystery and beauty. Do I smell deep pockets? 🤑

🔭1st Lord in Sagittarius ♐: At first glance most people will testify that you look like a learned person, even with your somewhat funny face card 🤣. You might be a huge person, or tall. With the urge to explore, you might travel frequently or live in a foreign land for long

🔭1st Lord in Capricorn ♑: You always have this serious look on you, sometimes unintentionally too. Lord!! You guys have a nice face structure and an amazing jawline 🥺. Not very handsome/beautiful in teen years but always the prettiest adults!. It's normal to experience frustrating delays or blockages in younger years because Saturn wants you to earn it and that's the trick that makes your successes last.

🔭1st Lord in Aquarius ♒: There's always something so unique about these ones. A unique face card . They're very innovative and so into tech things. Also there's something weird 🥴 about these guys. Honestly 1 in a 1,000,000. Plus, they also have certain ideas that they hold close to their heart🤔.

🔭1st Lord in Pisces ♓: There's that softness that most people can perceive around you. Your aura is like..................🤔 that of a fallen angel. These ones can easily zone out 😴 while talking to you. I guess that's because they're more immersed in other realms. Tendency to get addicted to an activity. Very poetic in nature. And dreams a lot 😉

©Victoryai

[very-merry-birthday]

Sweet or Heat

Summary: When you're stuck in a motel room, trying to pass the time, one thing becomes clear. Sam prefers sweet sex, while Dean prefers it heated. It's up to them to convince you which is better.

Warnings: Smut, Some degrading language

~~~

You stepped out of the bathroom, still drying your hair from the shower. The two men paused their conversation, turning to look at you instead. Sam let his eyes glance down to your tight shirt, his cheeks going red as he took you in, before turning away, bashful. Dean made no secret of his own gaze, looking over your body slowly before eventually landing on your ass, covered in a small pair of PJ shorts, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

You'd been stuck in the motel room for too long now, the brothers' small glances becoming more and more noticeable. Your own looks probably were as well, the small peaks as they changed, the V lines at Sam's waist, the back of Dean's shoulders. The tension hung in the air, thicker and thicker as you tried to pass the time.

Tonight the method of choice was alcohol, enough of it that you'd all hopefully pass out without having to acknowledge any of the tightness in the room. Dean passed you the half drunk bottle of whiskey as he finally dragged his eyes away from your body, looking up at you with a lopsided smile. You took it, sitting down on the bed beside him.

"You started drinking without me?" You smiled and swigged down a couple of gulps, letting the fiery liquid warm you from the inside, and passing it over to Sam.

Dean shrugged, turning back to Sam to continue the conversation you'd been missing, "I'm telling you, there's nothing hotter than when you're plowing a girl from behind, pulling on her hair-"

Sam coughed on the whiskey, shooting his brother daggers with his eyes, "Dude come on, let's not do this now?" He gestured back to you.

You looked between the two of them, waiting for them to explain as they seemed to have a silent conversation with their eyes. You continued to pass the bottle between you all as you spoke.

"Well Sammy here likes to have sappy sex-"

"Hey I never said that," Sam cut him off, his face going red "I just- fine- I think it's better when sex is intimate, you know? When you've been dating a girl for a while and you can just have slow, soft sex, when you just know her well enough that every touch is deliberate. Sometimes I just prefer it when it's sweet!"

Dean shook his head, "And I told him he's wrong- sex is always better when it's rough and sweaty and leaves bruises. No girl actually wants it slow, not all the time! They want to be fucked properly. Sex is just better when it's hot and heated! Right?"

They both looked at you expectantly, waiting for an answer.

You thought carefully about their words, images filling your mind. You imagined Sam, his strong arms wrapped around you as he pushed into you, his lips pressed softly against your skin. Then you imagined Dean, his hand around your throat as he roughly thrust against you.

"Both- both are pretty good." You looked back at the two men.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, "Don't be embarrassed just because you want to say you like it rough, you know I'm right."

"Shut up Dean, she doesn't have to tell us anything she doesn't want to."

"I'm not embarrassed- I'm being honest. Sometimes I prefer it when it's sweet and sometimes I prefer it heated, it just depends on the time, and the person." Your eyes darted between them.

Dean's eyes dropped to your lips and then back up to you, keeping himself composed, "That's not a real answer, you have to choose."

"Well argue your case then, let's hear more." You knew this was only an excuse for them to talk about sex, and they knew it too.

"I like to feel a woman," Sam began to speak, surprising you both, "like- really feel her. You've got to take your time to do that. I just let my fingers flow over her skin, touching every inch of her body. Dean you're only arguing because you don't know what it feels like to slowly inch your cock into a woman, let her feel you fill her up more and more, until you're completely inside her and she's practically begging for you."

You could feel a wetness growing between your legs as you listened to his words, your own face going flush as you pictured it. You watched him swallow hard before leaning back and shrugging, acting like he didn't know what he was doing to you. Dean gave it a second, watching for your reaction, a small pit of jealousy growing in his stomach as he saw your eyes wash over Sam's body.

"That's what doing it rough is all about though," Dean made sure your eyes were back on him before he continued, "there's no practically about it. I like making sure she's begging for me. When you have a girl on her knees in front of you, and she's fucking worshipping your cock, desperate to have it inside her? Damn there's no better feeling." He was talking to Sam but his eyes were firmly on you. "When she's able to loose all control, and just lets you take over, telling her exactly what to do, where to go, when to cum? Yeah I'd say that's the best kind of sex."

He refused to let the eye contact break, keeping you looking at him, the air growing thicker and thicker between the two of you. Then he let his eyes dip, only slightly, to your lips. You wet them instinctively and he broke a small smile, looking back to Sam and allowing himself to grin completely. "I think she agrees with me."

Sam rolled his eyes, "No way, tell him Y/N, you liked what I was saying."

You let the whiskey get the better of you, "I liked what you were both saying. A lot."

"But which is better?" Sam reached out to you, letting his finger lightly trace a small circle on your bare leg. It was the sort of touch that in any other situation you'd take as friendly, but right now you couldn't take any other way except lustful. He kept his eyes away, feigning innocence.

Dean watched his movements carefully, holding his breath tight in his chest. His eyes flicked between your eyes, Sam's, his hand, and back to Sam's again, none of you able to say what was clearly happening.

"I don't know Sam, I like them both. I still don't think either of you have fully convinced me."

"Well what would it take to convince you?" His hand got higher, his fingers drawing patterns across the top of your thigh, inches away from your PJ shorts, and the growing arousal between your legs.

Time felt as though it slowed, Sam looking at Dean, Dean looking at you, you looking between them both. His fingers were barely moving, but they sent fireworks flowing through you. None of you wanted to be the first to break, all of you holding onto the moment in the room.

He slowly inched his hand towards your inner thigh, tiny movements that left your breath hitched in your throat. You looked at Dean, who seemed to be watching you carefully, looking for the expression on your face, gauging his next move carefully. He cocked his eyebrow, only slightly, enough that you could barely see it. A question hung in the air between the two of you, imperceptible to anyone else. You dipped your head in a small nod.

In a single moment his hand came up to your cheek as he crashed his lips into yours, pulling your body away from Sam. You felt his lips, hot and heavy, his hand gripping at your jaw, a low hum emanating between you both. He tasted like whiskey as he easily pushed his tongue into your mouth, both your bodies entwining together, his other hand finding your waist and dragging you closer to him, wanting you to himself.

Sam moved his hand away and you let out a small whine, wanting him closer to you. You pulled your hand behind your back as you continued to kiss Dean, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him into the mix. You smiled as his hand found your thigh again, followed by the feeling of light kisses against your skin.

Dean pulled back to look at the scene, you bit your lip as Sam's lips pressed lightly against your inner thigh. He shook his head, "Hey dude, it was my turn to convince her."

Sam just rolled his eyes and looked back at your legs, small deep kisses peppered against your skin.

Dean looked back at you, holding your jaw to look at him as he spoke quietly for a moment, "This okay? How far do you want this to go?"

You smiled and kissed him lightly, "I want you to convince me, Winchester, both of you. That means you have complete control."

His expression turned dark once again and his hand found your neck, lightly wrapping around it as he dipped in to kiss you again, fierce and full of desire. Your own hand reached up to his shoulders, letting yourself feel his strong muscles as you bit back another whine. He pulled back, looking at you intensely, "On your knees."

You began to move, wanting to do as he said, but Sam grabbed your leg and looked back up at the older man, "No way you're taking her away right when it's about to get good." He lightly let his thumb rub over the crotch of your shorts and you let out a quiet gasp.

Dean watched you carefully, "You like it when both of us touch you, one not enough?"

You nodded your head.

"God you're fucking needy," he grabbed your jaw in his hands, "I should have known you were a slut."

You let out another moan as you bit your lip, looking up at him. Sam pressed his mouth down to your shorts, kissing you through the fabric, as Dean made sure you kept your gaze firmly on him. "Fine, Sam, have it your way, only because I know her mouth will feel better if you keep her moaning." He let go of you and began to stand, your attention turning back to Sam.

"Lay down, baby." He kissed your hip gently, looking up at you, and to Dean behind you, hiding the small smile that was forming at the corner of his mouth. You did as he said, pulling off your shirt at the same time. You felt both men's eyes on you for a moment as you got yourself into position, your bare breasts exposed, both of them unable to look anywhere else. You heard Dean behind you unbuckling his pants, Sam looking up at him and then back to you, "He wants your head off the back of the bed, baby, can you do that for us?" He kissed your hip again, "I promise I'll make it worth it."

You shuffled backwards slightly, letting the rest of your body sink into the sheets, your head off of the mattress, still looking down at Sam. He hooked his fingers around your shorts, slowly pulling them down your legs and throwing them to one side. He found his own position, laying between your legs, his mouth forming a small trail from your knee up to your pussy. You wanted him to touch you, but he was taking his time, savouring every moment. Then his tongue was on you, softly stroking through your soaked folds. You let out a loud moan, your head rolling back, gripping the sheets.

Dean stood behind you, his cock in his hand, stroking himself to the sight. Just seeing him, your head hung off the back of the bed, caused your chest to tighten, desperate to reach out to him. He saw your eyes on him and stepped forward, pressing his tip against your lips. He slowly pushed into your mouth, as Sam pushed two fingers into your pussy, filling you up from both ends. You moaned against Dean's length, sending vibrations through him.

He began to thrust his hips into you, his large cock filling your mouth, swallowing down his salty taste. Sam's tongue found your clit, lightly darting over it, and you lifted your hips up to him, desperate for more. Dean's thrusting got faster, the sight of you unravelling below him sending him into a desperate frenzy, pushing his cock further and further on each thrust until you felt like it was fully down your throat, choking you from the angle. His movements didn't slow as you tried to take him completely, the oxygen in your lungs starting to go, eyes going wide as you desperately tried to please him.

Sam almost spoke up, wanting to make sure you were okay, but he could tell by the wetness between your legs and the clenching of your pussy around his fingers how much you were enjoying it. He shot Dean a small wink and lowered his mouth back down, his tongue flowing through your folds, small, deliberate movements sending you to the edge.

You took in a large gasp of air as Dean pulled out for a moment to let you enjoy the feeling, your thighs wrapping around the younger man's head, legs over his shoulders. One of Sam's large hands came up to your bare breast, firmly palming it as his tongue continued to move through your wetness. He lightly pinched your nipple, causing you to let out another moan.

Dean pushed himself back into your mouth, your own tongue playing with his tip for a moment before he thrust in deeper, wanting to fill you once again. "Fuck your throat feels good- you like both of us inside you?"

You tried to nod as he began to roughly fuck your mouth. The feeling of Sam sucking lightly on your clit sent your body twitching beneath the two of them, the coil tightening in your stomach. You let out another moan against Dean's cock, and he sucked in a desperate breath, "Don't let her cum- not yet-"

Sam chuckled, sending vibrations through you as he licked along your folds, before looking up, slowly pushing another finger into you, "I wasn't planning on it, do you see how good she looks like this?"

"You should feel her mouth- god she knows what she's doing- and she fucking likes it too-"

"I can tell, you've got her so wet, she tastes incredible."

"Fuck look at her-" he pushed his cock in further, filling your throat, "-I don't think I can last much longer if she's gonna keep taking it so well."

Sam leant back down, licking through your folds, gaining speed as he moved past your clit, "You want to cum baby?"

You nodded, moaning against Dean's cock, loud enough they could both hear.

"Want to cum with a cock inside you?" Dean stepped back, giving you a chance to suck in a deep breath before nodding again, unable to form any words.

"Who do you want baby?" Sam pulled his head back, his fingers still slowly pushing into you, "Who convinced you?"

You took a moment, looking between the two men, desperate for both of them to keep touching you, wanting them both inside you.

"Sam." "Dean."

[click the name for a personalized ending]

[kathaelipwse]

Heyyy.Can you write a roommates(rivals) to lovers for Seungcheol. I didn’t really find anything similar to this trope of him😭

Mine to Ruin ☾ C.Seungcheol

Genre: Romance, Smut (minute), Angst, Rivals to Lovers Synopsis: Forced to share an apartment with your infuriatingly cocky roommate, Seungcheol, every argument turns into a battle of wills. But when one drunken challenge leads to a night of heated, reckless passion, the line between rivalry and desire begins to blur—until neither of you can pretend it’s just hate anymore. Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Strong Language, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Soft Moments, Light Dom!Seungcheol, Semi-Public Tension, Mutual Pining Word Count: 1.9K Author's Note: This is a filthy, tension-filled roommates-to-lovers fic with all the teasing, jealousy, and desperate confessions you could want. If you love bickering, unresolved tension, and the sweet taste of surrender, this one’s for you. Enjoy!

The moment you became Seungcheol’s roommate, you knew you were signing a pact with chaos. Not the fun, spontaneous kind, but the meticulously orchestrated, infuriatingly charming kind. It wasn't just the sheer audacity of his presence, though that was a significant factor. It was the way he commanded the space, the way his laughter echoed through the apartment, a constant reminder that he was there, impossibly, frustratingly there.

He was, to put it mildly, a force of nature. Bossy? That was an understatement. He treated the shared apartment like his personal kingdom, dictating everything from the temperature (always too hot for your liking) to the arrangement of the furniture (his preferences, naturally). Stubborn? He could argue with a brick wall and convince it to change its mind. Insufferably cocky? He wore it like a second skin, a perpetual smirk playing on his lips, as if he knew something you didn't – and, frustratingly, he often did.

It wasn’t just the personality clashes, though. It was the physical presence that sent your senses reeling. The way he’d emerge from the shower, a damp towel slung low on his hips, water droplets clinging to his sculpted chest, a casual disregard for your existence that somehow made your breath catch in your throat. The way his cologne, a heady mix of sandalwood and something distinctly him, lingered in the air, a phantom touch that made your skin tingle.

He had a way of invading your personal space, not in a threatening way, but in a teasing, almost predatory manner. He'd lean over your shoulder as you studied, his warm breath ghosting over your neck, and ask, "Having trouble?" in that low, husky voice that sent shivers down your spine. Or he'd stand just a little too close in the kitchen, his hip brushing against yours as you both reached for the same ingredient, his eyes glinting with amusement as he watched your reaction.

His teasing smirk was a weapon, a constant challenge. It was there when he won an argument, when he snagged the last slice of pizza, when he beat you to the shower. It was a silent dare, a constant reminder of the unspoken tension that crackled between you. You wanted to wipe that smirk off his face, to prove him wrong, to show him that you weren't intimidated. Or, if you were being brutally honest with yourself, you wanted to kiss him senseless, to silence that infuriating grin with your lips.

But you’d rather swallow your pride and endure a thousand more petty arguments than admit the truth: that his presence, his infuriating, intoxicating presence, was slowly unraveling you. You'd rather die than admit that the rivalry, the constant push and pull, was fueled by something far more complex than simple annoyance. That the way your heart pounded when he was near wasn't just irritation, but something akin to… desire.

And so, the unspoken rule was set: whoever broke first, lost. It was a game of wills, a battle of pride, a constant dance of provocation and denial. Arguments over the thermostat were legendary, escalating into full-blown debates about the merits of arctic temperatures versus tropical heat. Battles for the last slice of pizza were fought with strategic maneuvering and tactical snark. The war over the shower was a daily struggle, a race against time and a test of your ability to withstand his smug victory dance when he won.

Every snide remark, every playful shove, every lingering glance was a calculated move, a test of your resolve. You'd snark back, matching his wit with your own, always stepping closer, always pushing the boundaries. He'd throw it right back, his eyes sparkling with amusement, always invading your space, always making you wonder if he was trying to start a fight or something else entirely. The tension thickened with each passing day, a tangible force that filled the apartment, a silent promise of something more. But neither of you dared to cross the line, to break the unspoken rule, to admit the truth that simmered beneath the surface.

Until one drunken night.

It started as a challenge—because of course it did. A game of ‘truth or dare’ at a party, both of you already buzzed, fueled by pride and liquid courage.

“I dare you to kiss me,” Seungcheol had smirked, leaning in, eyes locked on yours.

You scoffed, unfazed. “That’s not a dare. That’s wishful thinking.”

“Scared?”

Your blood burned. You never backed down from a challenge.

So you grabbed his collar and kissed him.

And that’s when everything fell apart.

Because the moment his lips crashed against yours, the rivalry shifted. The push and pull turned into hands gripping at each other, mouths colliding like you were both starving. That night, he pinned you against the apartment door the second you got home. He kissed you hard, hands wandering, tugging, claiming. Clothes hit the floor. Words turned into moans. And by the time he had you writhing beneath him, both of you breathless and sweat-slicked, he smirked down at you, voice wrecked and possessive.

“You love this, don’t you?” he murmured, dragging his lips down your neck. “Letting someone you hate make you fall apart.”

You would’ve slapped him if you weren’t too busy moaning his name.

The next morning, neither of you talked about it.

Which should’ve been the end of it.

Except it kept happening.

Every argument now ended with Seungcheol pushing you against the nearest surface, hands in your hair, lips crashing into yours like he needed to win.

“You talk too much,” he growled against your mouth one night, his hands gripping your waist as he lifted you onto the kitchen counter. “Should I shut you up?”

“Try me,” you shot back, legs wrapping around his hips.

And he did.

Then there was the night he came home late from a party, jaw tight, eyes dark with jealousy.

“Didn’t like seeing me with someone else?” you teased, pushing his buttons, testing his limits.

His response? Dragging you to his bedroom, slamming the door shut, pressing you against it with a heated glare. “I don’t share,” he growled, before kissing you hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

His lips weren't gentle. They were possessive, demanding. He nipped at your lower lip, drawing a soft gasp from you, before trailing down your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, sending shivers down your spine. He lingered at the sensitive spot just below your ear, his breath hot against your skin, before moving to the curve of your shoulder. He kissed and nipped, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

He then lifted you, and brought you to his bed. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head, his eyes never leaving yours. He traced the line of your collarbone with his fingertips, before dipping his head to press a kiss to the delicate skin. His hands moved lower, to the waistband of your pants, and with a swift motion, they were gone.

He knelt between your thighs, his eyes dark with desire. His hands moved to your inner thighs, tracing the sensitive skin, before moving higher. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your skin, before pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. He lingered there, his breath hot against your skin, before moving higher, his lips tracing a path towards your core.

He moved above you, his eyes locked on yours. “Mine,” he growled, his voice rough with desire.

The world narrowed to the feel of his skin against yours, the sound of his ragged breathing, the taste of him on your lips. He moved with a controlled ferocity, each thrust a claim, each gasp a testament to the raw, untamed desire that burned between you. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you, controlling you, until you were both lost in the storm of sensation.

You never called it anything. Never admitted it meant more than pent-up frustration. But then one night, in the middle of it all—your nails digging into his back, his lips buried in your neck—you moaned something different.

You moaned, “Cheol.”

And he froze.

Because no one called him that. Not you. Not like that.

For the first time, he didn’t fuck you like he had something to prove. He moved slower, kissed deeper, held you closer.

And that was the night everything really changed.

Seungcheol avoided you after that.

Stopped teasing you. Stopped touching you. Started acting like the past few weeks had been nothing but a fever dream. And maybe you would’ve let him get away with it.

Except one night, after another fight—this one raw, real, full of things neither of you wanted to say—he grabbed your wrist before you could storm out.

And he whispered, “Don’t go.”

And that was all it took for the dam to break.

He kissed you like an apology. Like a confession. Like he was terrified and desperate and utterly lost without you. And this time, when he pulled you into his arms, when he murmured against your lips, “Mine,” you didn’t fight it.

Because you were his.

And he was yours.

The shift wasn't just physical. It was in the quiet moments after, when the air was still thick with the afterglow. Seungcheol, who used to roll away with a smirk, now held you close. His large hands traced soft patterns on your skin, lingering on the curve of your hip, the dip of your spine. He'd pull the blankets up, tucking you in against his chest, a low rumble vibrating through him as he held you.

One particularly intense night, after you'd both pushed each other to the edge, he held you close, his breath warm against your ear. "Are you alright?" he whispered, his voice laced with a tenderness you'd never heard before.

"Yeah," you murmured, snuggling closer. "Just... tired."

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. "Sleep," he murmured. "I've got you."

And he did. He held you through the night, a silent promise in the steady beat of his heart against your back.

The forehead kisses started subtly. A soft press of his lips against your brow as you drifted off to sleep, a gentle reassurance in the darkness. Then, as your final year of university wore on, with job interviews and looming deadlines, they became a daily ritual.

Standing in the kitchen, coffee brewing, you'd feel his lips brush against your forehead. "Good luck today," he'd murmur, his hand lingering on your cheek.

Those small gestures, that quiet affection, became your anchor. It was a stark contrast to the fiery passion that consumed you both in the bedroom, a gentle reminder that beneath the rivalry, beneath the possessiveness, was a genuine care, a deep affection that bloomed in the quiet moments.

You were both in your final year, the pressure of finding jobs and building a future weighing on you. Seungcheol, with his natural charisma and drive, had landed a promising position at a design firm. You, with your sharp wit and analytical mind, were navigating the world of marketing, juggling interviews and presentations.

The apartment, once a battleground, became a sanctuary. Late nights spent working at the kitchen table, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating your papers, were punctuated by quiet conversations, shared snacks, and the comforting presence of each other.

One evening, after a particularly grueling interview, you came home to find Seungcheol waiting for you, a warm meal laid out on the table. "How did it go?" he asked, his eyes filled with concern.

You slumped into a chair, exhaustion pulling at your limbs. "It was... okay," you sighed. "I don't know."

He sat beside you, taking your hand in his. "You'll get something," he said, his voice firm. "You're too talented not to."

And he meant it. He believed in you, even when you doubted yourself. That unwavering support, that quiet confidence, was a balm to your frayed nerves.

You still bicker. Still play tug-of-war over stupid things. Still pretend like you don’t love each other just to get a rise out of him.

But now, when you steal the last slice of pizza, Seungcheol just smirks and pulls you into his lap. “I love you but you’re gonna pay for that, baby.”

Now, when you fight over the thermostat, he shuts you up by pressing you against the nearest wall and kissing you breathless.

Now, when you tease him, he doesn’t just argue back—he ruins you for it.

“Still think I’m unbearable?” he murmurs one night, voice husky, lips ghosting over yours.

You grin, tugging him down. “Yeah,” you whisper. “But I love you anyway.”

And for once, Seungcheol doesn’t argue.

He just kisses you instead.

The morning after, as you both prepared for work, he paused, his hand cupping your cheek. "I'm proud of you," he said, his eyes sincere. "No matter what happens, I'm proud of you."

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a silent indication of 'i love you'

---

[sparrows4bats]

So this is Batcow fan account, and I shall starting earning that title now.

Batcow is the greatest matchmaker to ever live. She is the reason for the batfamilys continuing sanity and relationship status. The Manor functions because of Alfred and Batcow.

How, you ask? How does a bovine save superhero and vigilante love lives? Why does a cow hold that much power? Dear sweet child, Batcow Is, that is how. But some quick examples of her her brilliance follow:

Dickory

Batcow is how Dick wins Kory back after a spectacular fight that almost breaks them up. Dick is upset and takes it out by arguing with Bruce and then walking around the Manor Gardens to cool off where he notices Batcow has somehow inexplicably ended up on the roof of the Manor. She looks unharmed, but there is no way for her to get down.

Dick panics because if anything happens to that cow, Damian will murder everyone in the house and fight Ras himself to get her to a Lazarus Pit. So after a moment or two of trying to think of a way out of this. He does what he usually does when his back is against the wall, and his life is on the line. He calls Kory.

After listening to him explain, she flies over and air-lifts Batcow off the roof. Where Dick promptly falls to his knees in front of this literal Queen and apologies for being a stubborn ass. Kory laughs and kisses him. Dick brings Bat Cow treats for weeks after.

JayRoy

Jason has been pining after Roy for months, possibly years, but can't find the right way to see if they could be anything more than friends. If they get together, he is in this for the long haul, not just for Roy but Lian too. So, instead of communicating like a normal person, he starts a silent campaign of proving he is Step Dad Material.

All of his attempts somehow backfire. Lian loves him, but Roy has no kitchen left and thought they both died twice. (He still lets Jason watch her, though. JASON IS OBLIVIOUS) So he is looking for child safe activities that don't involve bedtime stories(Lian prefers his over Roy's already), and then Damian remarks how friendly his pets are with civilians in his never ending pursuit of getting Bruce to allow him to patrol with his pets. And Jason knows exactly what to do. Why go to a petting zoo when he has one in the Manors backyard?

(They are still banned from the actual zoo. That penguin was fine. Eventually.)

So he brings Roy and Lian over to the Manor, and Alfred sets up lunch on the grass. Lian loves batcow and the rest of Damians' menagerie. She is so happy that after hours of cuddling and feeding the animals that she throws herself into Jason's arms and says, "Thank you, Pops! Can we come back tomorrow? Pretty please?" Jason tears up, and Roy smiles. He also asks him on a date so he can make it official. (Roy isn't as happy when he finds out about the Dragons on their next visit.)

Jason gives Lian a Batcow plushie when he adopts her a few years later.

TimBer/ Timbernkon

Tim hesitates to kiss Bernard and later Kon for so long that Batcow steps up to help him.

Tim after hours of too little sleep and too much angst . He goes to vent to the cow because she's good company and won't spill his secrets to anyone. One of these chats was interrupted by a worried Bernard looking for this boyfriend after he disappeared from his office.

Bernard loves Batcow, and seeing him act so adoring to her makes any doubt he had fly away. Because Bernard looks at him in almost the same way so he leans in and finally kisses him properly. They end up making out a little and get caught by Alfred, who came to feed Batcow her dinner.

When Tim and Bernard introduce Kon to Batcow, after a few weeks of trying to convince him to date them, Batcow full on body checks him into Bernard, and they accidentally kiss as Kon avoids crushing him. Tim pouts until Kon kisses him, too.

Bernard now visits Batcow at least once a week and bonds with Damian over her.

BatCat

They didn't know Batcow was pregnant or how she even got pregnant, until one day she went into Labour.

Damian is a mess and enlists Selinas' help because she has been around so many cat births. She tries to tell him a cow is completely different, but Damian is desperate and won't take no for an answer. Silena and Damian stay with Batcow, brushing and encouraging her until Batcalf is born.

Damian falls in love at first sight, and Silena has a realisation and suddenly blurts out that she thinks she might be pregnant while looking over the newborn. Damian doesn't react for a moment, and Silena fears the worst until he starts tearing up a little and asks rather shakily, "Does that mean I'll be a big brother?" Silena hugs him and tells him he will be the best big brother and doesn't comment on the tears that soak her shirt.

They tell Bruce together, first about Batcalf and then about the baby. (He is stunned, and Damian tells him off for his response because his silence is upsetting Silena and "She needs little to no stress in her condition, Father!")

Damian and the Cows follow Silena like shadows during her pregnancy (she doesn't ask how Batcow gets into the house and Bruce is too upset about how his son and his pets are doing a better job than him at being supportive to notice how Bat Calf sleeps on Damians bed.)

Damian is the first, after her parents, to hold Helena Wayne. He gives her two Cow plushies she carries everywhere for years.

StephCass

Batcow goes missing while Damian is on a mission, Stephanie is meant to be watching her, as Alfred is away as well. AND SHE LOST THE COW. Damian is going to kill her. Not even Cass could save her.

Then she realises, Cass! Cass will find Batcow, if anyone can, Cass, the most competent person ever, will.

So Cass and Steph spend hours searching everywhere they can think of until it starts to rain. And Cass looks so good with wet hair and rain drops sticking to her lashes that she can't help just kiss her. (They might die tomorrow if they don't find the cow anyway, so YOLO). Cass kisses back and asks, 'What took her so long?'

Batcow is on the roof on the Manor. They call Kara to come get her. No one knows how she ended up there, but they all agree never to tell Damian.

Duke/Izzy

Apparently, 'Do you want to go see my crazy family's pet cow?' is a ridiculous way to ask a girl out. But it made Izzy laugh so hard she says yes anyway.

Duke gives Batcow extra attention ever since and sends Izzy regular updates on her 'Adventures'.

Jondami

Batcow, like in the supersons movie, is one of the first things Jon and Damian bond over. Jon comes over to help Damian with his pets regularly, and that is how their partnership develops to friendship and then something more.

Then, Batcow gets sick, and Damian panics hard. (He has contingencies in place if she dies, but if he can prevent that, he will.) Damian calls for Jon for the first time ever, and Jon is there in Minutes. Damian is in tears and hugging his cow like a giant teddy bear when he arrives. He's never seen Damian look so....human. They investigate what is hurting Batcow and Jon figures out she's pregnant AGAIN, this time possibly with twins.

Damian is so relieved that he hugs Jon. It's the first time Damian has touched him willingly outside of training and missions. They are both teenagers at this point, and its like Jons whole world tilts on its axis. Righting itself to centre on the boy in his arms, a boy who is so kind and lovely, despite all the reasons he shouldn't be. Damian fits under his chin, and suddenly, Jon knows he would do anything to make him happy, to keep in his arms where Jon can protect him. Jon knows Damian can protect himself and has done so hundreds of times, but Jon wants to be the one he calls when he's scared, and based on tonight, he already is.

Damian pulls back too soon, and Jon, instead of pulling him into another hug, kisses him. Best of all, Damian kisses him back.

Duke catches them, and they swear him to secracy with the agreement that he can bring Izzy over when the new calves are born.

They still don't know how Batcow got pregnant, but they name the calves Supercow and Wondercow because Lian insisted. (Jon and Damian laugh at Bruce's face when they introduce him to the new members of the family.)

Batcow deserves an award for her service. For now, she and her children are spoiled rotten.

[crescenthistory]

I saw that you wanted to write the girlies into your fics more often, so I wanted to make a request 8) Can I request a reader x Regulus where reader is crushing BAD on Reggie, and the girlies take it upon themselves to try and do a little matchmaking? I love your work, and your recent Barty fic was AMAZING btw!!!

the girlies<333 oh how i love them and their silly little adventures, thank you for giving me an excuse to write them babes! and for being soso sweet omg you're an angel

Summary: Dorcas has had it with two of her best friends walking on eggshells around each other to avoid their feelings. So, she puts her best meddlers on the case to end it once and for all, and make the idiots kiss.

Words: 5.7k

Warnings: not proofread, mutual pining believed to be unrequited love, use of y/n, slytherin!fem!reader, background girlies, rosekiller and dorlene, teasing, awkwardness, language, confessions of love, really cliche but makes up for it in sweetness?

Note: who wouldn't be down bad crying at the gym for reggie?

Though you believed being humble was virtuous, you did pride yourself with being a particularly kind person.

Most people in the castle got over well with you, and you had been able to float in and out of all the major friend groups in your year. The self-declared Marauders often ran to hide with you when chased by a consequence in one form or another, and the Hufflepuff quidditch team seemingly adopted you after you cheered them up after their first loss of the season. With all the pressures of Hogwarts and the lives you were soon to embark on afterwards, it was the least you could do to spread some joy, and perhaps receive a bit in return.

At the end of the day, you always came back to your friend group, though – a heap of entangled limbs and snickering, usually found in the same trusted corner of the Slytherin common room. Barty was always in some way or another physically on top of Evan, rarely conventional cuddling positions, while Pandora sat cross-legged on the floor by them, preferably braiding someone’s hair. Dorcas would sit on the table or lounge chair, waving her arms emphatically, often hitting either you or her girlfriend Marlene – the one Gryffindor you all collectively accepted – square in the face, multiple times throughout the night.

Oh, how you loved them.

And if their cheers every time you returned to them from your little friendship tours, as Barty called them, were anything to go by – they loved you too.

Then, there was Regulus Black.

The victim of whatever positions Evan and Barty felt like sitting in, as he always sat at the other end of the sofa they inhabited. The calm and collected of the bunch, except for when Dorcas or Barty said something particularly outlandish he just had to argue with. The multitasker, always with a book in hand, whether for personal enjoyment or study-related, somehow devouring them while catching every word around him. The wittiest one, well-timed remarks hitting people – usually Barty – square in the chest.

The object of all your desires.

Because while you were a kind person, and arguably well-liked, Regulus was the one person you never managed to get quite close to. You were in the same little circle of friends, sure, and had been having friendly conversation and banter for the past 7 years. In theory, you know each other like the backs of your hands, but in practice you had never been alone in a room with him for more than a few minutes before he runs off.

It hurt you once upon a time, wondering what was wrong with you to make him seemingly be repelled from you like oil from water. Over the years though, you realised that is just kind of how Regulus operates. There is some reason behind all the mechanics, but they are not for others to know, just him to sulk over, and you have to accept what you’re given until he’s ready to offer more. Though you tried not to dwell on the fact that it was only you he seemed to avoid to that extent. You had to leave it to him to figure it out, you had decided.

You could live with that, but distance unfortunately made your heart grow fonder. Painfully so.

Regulus Black with his gorgeous black curls that have been so soft to the touch every time you have been close to it during your late nights around the fireplace. Regulus Black with his flowy white shirts and silver rings, gleaming in the glow of Hogwarts’s many candles. Regulus Black with his stupidly beautiful laugh whenever one of his friends could withdraw a real one from him, as if fished from the depths of his chest. Regulus Black with his striking grey eyes that you could get lost in, and have embarrassingly so, many a time. Regulus Black with his–

“Y/N would you quit pining for just a second and listen to me!” Dorcas’s exasperated voice cut through your musings, as you looked up at her with a non quizzical hum, only causing her to groan louder.

You were laying on your bed, almost ready for the night, while Dorcas apparently had tried to get through to you from her own bed mere metres from yours. Your best friend was sat on her bedside, hands on her knees as she looked just about ready to tackle you. Lovingly, of course.

“How’d you know I was even thinking about that?” you challenge, but there is no real fight in you as Dorcas’s gaze has already levelled you.

“You think about much else?”

“Rude.”

“Ruder to call him ‘that’. Put some respect on Reggie’s name.” You rolled your eyes, and had to fight the urge to shush her.

“Oh, don’t worry, he can’t hear us all the way from the boys’ dormitories.” 7 years of friendship had taught her almost too much about you.

“Would you stop trying to read my mind?” You climbed over in her bed to give her the attention she so craved. “It’s a bit intense.”

Dorcas flopped down on her back, sighing at nothing in particular. “You love that I know you so well. And someone ought to read your mind, if you’re not going to speak it.”

“Maybe some things are better left unsaid,” you teased her, but she kept giving you a narrow stare.

“I simply refuse to believe that.”

“Hey, where’s Marls?” you ask, not necessarily because you missed the blonde and pink haired menace you had come to view as a sister. Mostly just to shift the topic at hand. “Wasn't she supposed to stay the night?”

“Yeah, but she’s running an errand for me.”

“An errand?” You quirked a brow at her, looking over at a clock you kept by your bedside. “12 minutes before curfew?”

“Yes,” Dorcas said, giving you a duh look. Stupid you.

As if on cue, Marlene all but kicked down your door with a grin plastered on her face. “How ya doin’ ladies? I brought friends.” In behind her came Pandora and Lily, smiling a bit more softly, though there was a mischievous glint in Lily’s eyes that could only be a poor habit picked up from a certain Gryffindor bunch.

You gave enthusiastic greetings in return, happy to see your friends, but your brow still furrowed at the unexpected guests. A quick glance at Dorcas, whose lips curled into a grin so innocent that it immediately raised suspicions, only deepened your confusion.

“What’s this about?” you asked, voice laced with curiosity but also a growing sense of foreboding. A roomful of your closest friends this late at night – this had all the hallmarks of an ambush.

“Oh, nothing,” Dorcas said, too casually. She was still sprawled on her back, her eyes half-closed, but you didn’t miss the smirk playing on her lips. “We just thought it would be super fun to have a little... chat.”

Pandora was already situated on the floor right in front of you, humming some unfamiliar tune as she twisted her locs absentmindedly, while Lily leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smile dancing across her face. Marlene, never one for subtlety, was practically bouncing on the spot, barely containing her excitement.

“A chat?” You narrowed your eyes at them, already sensing that you were the centre of whatever this was. “That everyone knows about beforehand except me? I think that's called an intervention.”

Marlene’s grin widened. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“Hey!” You threw a pillow at her, which she easily dodged, cackling. “Okay, seriously girls. What’s going on?”

Lily stepped forward, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ve been talking. Well, more like observing.”

“Observing what exactly?” you asked, a sinking feeling creeping into your stomach. You knew these girls, and you knew when they were up to something.

“More like observing who,” Marlene interjected with a wink, as she casually threw herself onto Dorcas’s bed beside you, almost kicking her girlfriend in the face.

Pandora hummed softly, eyes now trained on her chipping purple nailpolish. “It’s just… you’ve been staring at Regulus like a lovesick puppy for years, and he’s been acting all distant and broody in response. Now that we're in our final year, the harmony should be set right before we all leave.”

You sat up straighter. “I have not–”

“Oh, come off it, Y/N.” Dorcas finally sat up, folding her legs beneath her. “You practically melt every time he so much as glances your way, and we’ve all seen the way you fawn over his hair like it’s spun silk. It’s borderline painful.”

Your face flushed, but you tried to play it off with a wave of your hand. “I don’t fawn.”

“You do,” Lily said, with the smallest hint of a smirk. “And Regulus? Merlin, that boy has been pining for you for too long. If you're a lovesick puppy, he's a kicked street dog.”

Your heart stumbled in your chest. “Wait– what?”

Marlene clapped her hands together in delight, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment. “Oh, darling, it’s so obvious. He’s completely smitten. Why do you think he’s always avoiding you? The boy’s terrified he’ll do something stupid like… I don’t know, confess his undying love for you in front of everyone.”

You blinked, completely taken aback. You expected them to give you a get it together speech, not... whatever this is.

“But– but, what, no, he’s always so cold around me. I thought–”

“That’s because he’s a socially inept idiot when it comes to feelings,” Dorcas interjected with a shrug, never one to sugarcoat it, though her voice softened when she took in your confused face. “Look, Regulus has spent his whole life trying to remain in control, but when he's around you he can't. So, if he can’t figure out how to act, he just… doesn’t.”

Lily nodded. “He’s not used to wanting something as much as he wants you.”

"Oh, he would not be happy knowing you're psychoanalysing him like this," you mumbled, mind whirling, to which Marlene and Dorcas just cackled.

Humour at the expense of their friend – what could be better?

You struggled to process this new information. You had left your relationship with Regulus to fate, an open invitation for friendship without pursuing anything more than that. As long as you could admire him from afar, you figured it was enough. The thought that he might have felt the same, but not know how to go about it felt foreign to you. It seemed impossible, and yet, when you thought back, the signs were there. The way his eyes lingered on you just a bit too long when he thought you weren't looking. The way his laughter – rare and beautiful – sounded a little softer, a little more genuine, when you were around. The way he physically ran away from you when you got too close, always some handy excuse ready...

You had chalked it up to his aloofness, to his enigmatic nature. A large part of you, fragile and uncertain, still wanted to.

“I don’t know…” you started, still hesitant. “What if you’re wrong?”

Pandora smiled softly at you, her eyes gentle but firm. “We’re not wrong, Y/N. The stars told me as much. But if your heart needs proof, we’re going to help you get it.”

Your gaze snapped to her, as blood rushed through your head. “Help me… how?”

“That’s the best part!” Marlene all but squealed, bouncing up from the bed and throwing her arm around you. “We’re going to play matchmaker!”

You stared at them, wide-eyed. “What? No! You’re not– no meddling! You’ll make things worse.”

Dorcas just gave you a knowing look, leaning back on her hands. “How can we make things worse if there is nothing at fuck all going on between you right now because you can't get your heads out of your asses?"

"We're friends, Dorcas!"

She sighed, as if you were a child, but gave you a soft look. You think she was trying to be reassuring. "We’re not going to make things worse. We’re going to force you two to face each other, and maybe then you’ll finally stop dancing around your feelings.”

“I don’t–”

“Too late, darling,” Marlene interrupted, her grin wicked. “Plans are already in motion.”

Lily smirked. “We’ve got it all figured out.”

You were about to protest again when Pandora placed a soft hand on your shoulder. “Trust us,” she said, her voice a soothing balm against the rising anxiety in your chest. “This is going to work.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. There was no stopping them, you knew that much. Once this group had an idea in their heads, there was no turning back. Still, the thought of whatever they had planned made your stomach twist in both excitement and dread.

Marlene clapped her hands together once more. “Right, first things first. Tomorrow, we’re going to get you two alone.”

“And then what?”

Dorcas’s grin widened. “Then, you’re going to talk to him.”

"Talk?" you repeated, your voice squeaking slightly.

"Yep," Lily said with a satisfied nod. "Just talk."

"That's the worst plan I've ever heard in my life. Scratch that, not even really a plan. Just the worst I've ever heard."

"You're lashing out 'cause you're scared." Marlene said in a fake-hurt voice, wiping invisible tears from her eyes as Dorcas shoved her.

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning with a hundred different emotions.

“Don’t worry, love," Lily almost cooed at you. "We’ll make sure everything goes perfectly.”

"How?"

"We'll see where the day takes us."

Your eyes flitted between the four of them, realising then that there was no getting out of this, and that you were not sure any of you even knew what this was yet.

You let out a groan as you flopped ceremoniously down on the bed, hiding your face in your eyes.

All girls cheered as they knew that was your sound of defeat, and thus their green flag to go crazy.

The next day, your nerves were buzzing like a poorly-executed Cheering Charm gone wrong. The plan – their plan – was apparently in full swing, and you had absolutely no control over it. In fact, your only plan was to somehow avoid being alone with Regulus Black at all costs.

Despite Dorcas's little lecture to you this morning about just ripping the fucking bandaid off love, gosh, you were entirely not on board anymore. Not that you ever were.

You had tried pleading with them again at breakfast, but they had brushed you off with reassuring pats and sly grins, as if your rising panic was nothing but a trivial detail. And so, here you were, pacing in the common room while the rest of the girls casually lounged, casting side glances at you and whispering like they weren’t blatantly scheming.

“Stop fussing, would you,” Marlene drawled, draped across one of the armchairs, looking far too pleased with herself. “We’ve got it all handled.”

“You’ve got nothing handled,” you hissed, feeling the dread creep up your spine. “You’re going to ruin everything. I mean, what if he freaks out? Or worse – what if he laughs at me?”

Lily, who was lounging with a book in her lap, raised an eyebrow over the top of it. “Y/N, Regulus Black doesn’t laugh at anything that isn’t Junior falling down the stairs. You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, and even if he does freak out,” Dorcas added, casually tossing an apple in the air, “it’s because he’s an emotionally stunted mess, not because he doesn’t like you.”

Your face burned. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

“Trust us, Y/N. We wouldn’t be doing this if we weren’t sure," Marlene groans. "He likes you, okay? He’s just too much of a brooding, melodramatic git to do anything about it.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but before you could, Pandora, ever the quiet voice of reason, gave you a soft smile. “It’ll be okay. Just be honest. You might be surprised by what he says.”

For half a second you dwelled on the fact that Pandora was the one everyone went to as their little therapist, and maybe her reassurance is not just speculation, as with the other girls.

You didn't allow that second to drag out, lest your head explode.

The sincerity in her voice almost made you believe them, though. Yet the idea of being locked in a room with Regulus, of all people, and forced to confront the swirling mess of emotions you had been harbouring for years? That was terrifying.

“I don’t know,” you said, backing toward the door in a desperate attempt to flee. “Maybe we should just–"

Dorcas was quicker than she looked. She slid in front of the exit, blocking your escape route with a triumphant grin. “Nope. You’re staying put.”

Before you could make a break for it, Marlene hopped to her feet, suddenly all business. “Right. It’s time. Pandora, Lily, you ready?”

“Ready,” they both said in unison, as if this were a Quidditch match and not the absolute destruction of your sanity.

“Wait– what’s happening?” you asked, voice rising with panic.

“We’re just going to have a little chat with Regulus,” Lily said with a wink, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “Should only take a minute.”

You watched in horror as the three of them sauntered out of the common room, leaving you in a state of rising dread. Dorcas remained blocking the door, arms crossed and a gleam of determination in her eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, trying one last desperate appeal to her better nature.

“Oh, I really think I do,” she replied with a grin. “Now, be a good sport. You’ll thank me later.”

Dorcas with her quidditch strength, picked you up and carried you to your dormitory despite your many loud protests. She practically shoved you inside, landing awkwardly on the floor, heart pounding in your chest.

“Just… read something and try to relax,” Dorcas called over her shoulder, slamming the door shut behind you. “We’ll handle everything.”

“Dorcas!” you yelped, but she was already gone.

You groaned, pushing yourself up off the floor and onto one of the beds, grabbing a random book from the bedside table in a futile attempt to calm your racing thoughts. It didn’t help.

Not even five minutes later, you heard the faint sound of footsteps outside the door, accompanied by hushed whispers that made your stomach drop.

“Marlene, what are you up to?” you muttered to yourself, sinking lower into the bed. You barely had time to brace yourself before Marlene’s voice echoed from the hallway, far too chipper for the situation.

“Oh, Reggie!” she called out in a sing-song voice that was dripping with false innocence. "I think I saw the creature run in here!"

Your heart immediately stuttered in your chest. No, no, no–

“In behind this... closed door?” came Regulus’s unmistakable voice, low and suspicious. There was always something about his tone, that subtle roughness to his otherwise smooth words, that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Ugh, yes, please go fetch it,” Lily chimed in, her tone too casual to be convincing.

There was a beat of silence, and you could practically feel Regulus’s confusion through the door. “In the girls’s dormitory?” His voice was flat, unimpressed. "Can't you guys?"

"No, you're the one who got an Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures. Please."

They couldn't be serious. What a master plan.

“It's important, Reg,” Pandora added, ever so softly, but with an edge of persistence that could sway anyone who wasn’t keen on questioning her.

There was another pause, and you held your breath. You could picture Regulus now – his sharp, silver eyes narrowing, a flicker of doubt crossing his face, his brain probably piecing together that whatever this was, it wasn’t something he should agree to. Not even Regulus is immune to charm and coercion from his friends though –and he probably couldn’t fathom the idea of Marlene calling for his help if it weren’t truly necessary – and you clearly heard his reluctant sigh through the door.

“Fine,” he muttered, footsteps nearing the door.

You had just enough time to consider how humiliating it would be to try and throw yourself out the window, but alas, Hogwarts windows didn’t accommodate such escapes.

The door creaked open, and there he was.

Standing in the doorway, looking like the very embodiment of a storm in human form, all brooding energy and understated elegance. His black curls were slightly dishevelled, his usual pristine appearance marred just enough by the casual looseness of his shirt collar, which somehow made him look even more effortlessly intimidating.

He looked around the room, eyes landing on you and widening slightly.

"Oh, hey Y/N, have you seen–"

Before you could answer or before he could even finish his sentence – slam. The door shut behind him with a loud click, the lock snapping into place.

Regulus’s head whipped around, his hand immediately going to the doorknob, shaking it lightly. “What the bloody hell?”

You watched in horror as the unmistakable sounds of footsteps retreated down the hallway, followed by Marlene’s faint, gleeful laughter.

“I’ll kill her,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone.

Regulus sighed deeply, his hand dropping from the door. He turned back to you, jaw tight, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth. "That makes two of us," he said, having clearly heard you across the room that felt increasingly smaller.

You laughed lowly, but couldn't quite meet his eyes.

“So… I’m assuming this beast was part of some master plan.”

You nodded, feeling your face heat up. “Yeah, pretty much.”

There was a heavy silence between you, the kind that felt both unbearably awkward and strangely charged. Regulus stayed by the door, leaning against it as though contemplating whether he could somehow break through it with sheer willpower. You, meanwhile, sat on the bed with your heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to escape the mess your friends had created.

Regulus’s eyes flicked to you, his expression guarded but curious. “You don’t… know what this is about, do you?”

You tried to swallow past the sudden lump in your throat, your fingers gripping the edge of the book like it might anchor you to reality. “I have a guess.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest in that way that made him look even more imposing. “And?”

“And,” you echoed, your voice faltering under the weight of what you were about to say, “they seem to think that locking us in a room together is the perfect opportunity for us to, uh… talk.”

Regulus let out a humourless chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned his back fully against the door. “Talk. Of course. That sounds exactly like something Marlene would come up with.”

There was a pause, and his gaze, which had flickered away momentarily, settled on you again. You could swear his eyes softened ever so slightly as they swept over you – taking in the awkward way you sat on the bed, your hands still gripping the book like it was a lifeline. You noticed the way his shoulders, usually squared with tension, seemed to relax just a fraction, as though being here, with you, wasn’t as unbearable as you had feared.

He cleared his throat, clearly struggling to find something to say. “So… what were you reading?”

“Oh, uh…” You squinted at the title, stifling a laughter as you realised what it was. “It’s, um… Hogwarts, A History.”

Regulus’s lips twitched, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Really? You’re reading that?”

Your face heated even more, and you quickly abandoned the book, tossing it to the side. “Okay, no. I was trying to look busy while panicking over the fact that I was about to be locked in a room with you.”

"You knew?"

"I got a small warning after I was thrown in here."

"By Dorcas or Marlene?" he asked, amusement gleaming in his eyes because he knew you meant it literally.

"Dorcas."

He hummed in approval before his brows furrowed, as if registering your whole conversation, and he took a step closer, his usual guarded exterior slipping just a bit. “Why would that make you panic?”

The one question you didn’t have a safe answer for. You could feel your heart racing again, but there was something about the way he looked at you, something soft and searching in his gaze, that made it impossible to retreat.

You swallowed hard. “Because… I don't know. You’re Regulus Black.”

The words came out in a rush, like they explained everything, and to you, they did. Regulus, though, just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly, his voice low but noticeably not cold. “Why would my family matter?”

You laughed nervously, standing up from the bed as if that might help calm the chaotic swirl of emotions in your chest. “Not your family. You. Regulus. You’re just... you. You’re smart and brilliant and intimidatingly beautiful and–” You stopped yourself, suddenly horrified by the direction your rant was going. “And it just didn’t seem like you’d ever want to be stuck in a room with me.”

Regulus blinked, his posture stiffening as if your words had physically hit him. For a moment, the usual cool facade he wore cracked, revealing something vulnerable beneath.

“You think I don’t want to be around you?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was an edge of disbelief in it.

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “I mean, yeah. You always seem so distant when I’m around. Like you can’t wait to get away.”

Regulus was silent for a moment, the air between you growing thick with tension. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, quieter. “That’s not because I don’t want to be around you.”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice.

He stepped closer, his movements slower, more deliberate, like he was unsure of what he was doing for the first time in his life. “I… avoid you because I don’t know how to be around you without making a fool of myself.”

You blinked, completely thrown by his confession. “What?”

Regulus exhaled a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself. “I’m not good at this – at feelings. At talking, like the girls wanted. You make me feel things I don’t know how to handle. So, I do the only thing I know how to do. I keep my distance.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, a mix of disbelief and hope rising in your throat. “Regulus…”

He met your gaze, and for the first time in the years you had known him, you felt as if you actually saw him in his eyes. The real him.

“I’ve liked you for longer than I care to admit,” he said, his voice low and steady now. “And it scares the hell out of me.”

You felt your breath catch, his words sinking into your chest and settling there, warm and heavy. It was as if the entire world had shifted in that moment, the tension between you now a living, breathing thing, pulsing with the weight of everything left unsaid.

"L– liked me?"

Regulus couldn't do anything but nod.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, stepping closer until you were just a breath away from him. You could see the way his chest rose and fell, his eyes flickering down to your lips for the briefest second before he caught himself, jaw tightening.

“Regulus,” you whispered, the world narrowing to just the space between you. “I’ve liked you too. For so long.”

His breath hitched ever so slightly, eyes wild.

He didn’t respond with words – he didn’t have to. In one swift motion, he closed the remaining gap between you, his hands gently cupping your face as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was tentative, as if both of you were still testing the waters of something too fragile to fully comprehend. Regulus’s hands, cool but steady, cradled your face with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine. The rest of the world faded away – your racing thoughts, your anxieties, the locked door behind you – none of it mattered in that moment.

It was just him. It had always been him.

As the kiss deepened, Regulus’s usual restraint seemed to dissolve, replaced by something raw and urgent. His fingers curled against your skin, one hand suddenly on the small of your back, drawing you closer until there was barely any space left between you. You felt his heart beating against your chest, fast and unsteady, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

It was everything you had imagined, everything you needed.

You melted into him, lips, body and soul, before you pulled away breathless. The room felt impossibly still around you.

You were both standing there, eyes wide, inches apart, as if neither of you could quite believe what had just happened. Regulus’s lips were still parted, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips and back again, as though he was trying to memorise everything about this moment.

"Do you mean it?" he murmured. You felt his lips brush yours as he spoke.

You didn't need to ask what he meant. Instead you whispered a passionate yes before kissing him again, lingering against him. You could feel him begin to smile against you.

"This is not what I expected to come out of this," you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

Regulus let out a breathless chuckle, one that sounded almost surprised, like he couldn’t quite believe it either. “I can't say I did either.” He paused, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “But I’m not complaining.”

You smiled, warmth flooding your chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was no uncertainty hanging between you. Just you and Regulus, and the quiet realisation that maybe, just maybe, all those years of longing and misunderstanding had led you exactly where you were meant to be.

You were about to say something – something witty, maybe, to break the tension – but then–

BANG!

The door flew open, slamming against the wall with such force that both you and Regulus jumped apart, your heads whipping toward the entrance just in time to see Marlene, Lily, Dorcas, and Pandora tumble inside, practically tripping over each other in their mad dash to get through the door.

“There they are!” Marlene shouted, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She pointed dramatically at the two of you, looking like she had just witnessed the Quidditch World Cup. “I told you it would work!”

Lily snorted, pushing past Marlene and raising an eyebrow as she glanced between you and Regulus, both still slightly dishevelled and very much caught in the act. “Honestly, Marlene, you could have given them a few more minutes.”

You groaned, heat rushing to your face as you buried it in your hands. “Were you all just waiting outside the entire time?”

Pandora gave you an apologetic smile, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. It made her look all the more like Evan. “We were just… keeping an eye on things.”

Regulus, who had taken a deliberate step back when the door burst open, gravitated slightly more towards you again as he ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you lot talked me into this.” For all intents and purposes he looked exasperated – but his lips twitched in amusement.

“Oh, don’t act like you hated it,” Dorcas teased. “You’re welcome for the facilitation by the way.”

“Facilitation?” Regulus repeated, his voice dry as he glanced around the room full of over-enthusiastic matchmakers. “That’s one word for it.”

Marlene was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I have no words for how pleased I am with myself right now.”

"Evidently." You and Dorcas chorused at the same time, causing you both to giggle, though you tried to stifle it.

“You’re all completely insufferable," you said through an ever-growing smile.

“And yet,” Marlene drawled, throwing an arm around Dorcas’s shoulders, “you love us anyway.”

Regulus caught your eye, and despite the absurdity of the situation and the embarrassment of being ambushed by your meddlesome friends, you couldn’t help but laugh. His lips quirked up in that rare, almost-hidden smile he reserved for moments like this.

“Alright, alright,” Lily said, clapping her hands together as if trying to herd a group of first-years. “Now that this mission is accomplished –” she shot a pointed look at you and Regulus, “– we should probably leave them alone.”

Marlene looked like she was about to protest, but Pandora nudged her toward the door. “Give them some space.”

As they filed out, Marlene shot you one last wink over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I expect all the juicy details later.”

You groaned again, shaking your head as they finally disappeared down the hallway, their laughter echoing faintly behind them. When the door closed with a soft thud, the room seemed impossibly quiet again, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the corner.

You turned back to Regulus, who was watching you with a look that was both amused and affectionate, his usual mask of indifference nowhere to be found. He stepped closer to you, arms circling around your waist.

"Your friends are idiots," he said with no real malice in his tone.

"Yeah, but so are we."

In privacy with you, Regulus's smile widened in a way that made your stomach flip, as he leaned in for another kiss.

[sweetdispatch]

hiiii, i have a bakery order 😁

6 pieces of baklava with toffee and salted pretzels

thank you!!

Personality - Q. Hughes

v' bakery pairing: Quinn Hughes x fem!reader summary: You and Quinn didn't like each other but one argument opened his eyes warning: swear words

You and Quinn have been stuck in the same friend group during summer and both of you hated it. You didn’t like him because he was always showing that he’s an athlete and that was his pick up line. For you, it looked like he had no personality except for being an athlete. He didn’t like you because you were sarcastic and he hated that he doesn’t know if you’re for real or just joking. 

Your friends knew that you two didn’t like each other and found it funny to always set you up. At every dinner, you were placed next to him. When you were going out for drinks, they always made sure you two were close. It was entertaining for them to see yours and Quinn's interaction. 

One night, the tension between you and Quinn was unbearable. You were mad at him for every little thing he did. He thought he’s funny but he was just annoying you. You weren’t the person who’s ready to confront others and always prefer to keep your mouth shut instead of arguing but tonight, you had enough of him. 

“Can you go with me outside?” You asked him and he nodded his head. When you stepped outside, you lost control. “What’s your problem dickhead?” 

“I don’t have a problem. You’re the one with a problem” Quinn casually said. 

“You’re my problem. I get it you don’t like me but grow up” You told him.

“You’re the one who needs to grow up. You’re the one who’s acting like a bitch all the time” Quinn said and you looked at him surprised.

“I prefer to act like a bitch then try to get into other girls' panties by saying that I’m an athlete” You told him. “Oh look at me. I’m Quinn Hughes and I play hockey” You mocked him. “Don’t you have a personality that you need to tell everyone that you’re an athlete?” 

“Is that the reason why you don’t like me?” Quinn asked you and you nodded. “This is idiotic reason, you know that?” 

“You didn’t prove me wrong so it’s not. Call me when you find your personality and then I can agree with you” You told him and started going home. 

“Where are you going?” You heard him screaming after you but you didn’t answer, just focused on the way back home. 

Your words were stuck with Quinn. He was thinking about them for the rest of the night and the next day. He realised that in fact, his whole personality was being an athlete and he wanted to change it. He also realised that you’re not that bad of a person. He wanted to prove you wrong and show you that there’s more of him than just sport. 

You went dead silent for the next few days. You felt bad for saying those words to Quinn. It wasn’t your place to tell them. You didn’t want to talk with your friends or go out with them. You just wanted to stay at home and enjoy the peace instead of facing the consequences of your words. 

Quinn was worried about you because you were always the most active one in the group chat and now you weren’t saying anything nor reading. He thought that something bad must have happened when you were going back home after the conversation you two had. That’s why he decided to check on you and arrived in front of your doorstep. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked him when you saw him. 

“I wanted to see you” Quinn said and walked into your apartment. 

“Why?” You asked him about his sudden worry. 

“Because you weren’t answering the messages and I thought something bad happened to you” Quinn told you and you slightly smiled at his worry. 

“I’m fine, I just felt bad about the words I told you and needed a break” You sighed. “Now, you checked on me and can go home”

“You were right. I don’t have a personality other than sports. This is all me, just hockey” Quinn admitted. 

“I’m sure you have. I’m sorry for saying that to you. I was just mad and threw those words at you. You didn’t deserve them” You told him feeling bad that the words stuck with him. 

“I’m glad you told me. I could think about it and see something. I could see that I was running after other girls when you were there all the time” Quinn told you and you felt taken aback. 

“Excuse me?” You didn’t expect these words from him. 

“You are a great woman. I thought that you’re a bitch but in fact, you just know what you want and you’re not afraid of saying it out loud” Quinn said and caressed your cheek. “I really want you” He leaned down and kissed your lips. 

You didn’t pull away. You deepened the kiss and went with your hands through his hair. This kiss melted the tension that was between you two. You couldn't have enough of him. His lips felt like a missing piece to yours. Quinn pulled away and looked at you.

“I want to ruin you so badly” Quinn whispered and kissed you again. 

“Do it. Show me what you got, athlete boy” You said to him and connected your lips with his.

[webism]

KINKTOBER DAY SEVEN: edging with sub!higuruma

kinktober masterlist

“I think I hate you.”

You have to laugh at the tortured way in which Hiromi speaks. He’s a mess, hair strewn over his forehead, skin glossed with sweat, cock angry with need.

“That’s not very nice,” you hum, languidly stroking at his cock. You don’t want to go too fast, ruin the awful buildup you’ve been working at. “You should be kinder to the person with your dick in hand.”

Hiromi bites the inside of his cheek. You’ve brought him to the edge three times now just to let his orgasm die the moment it starts to crest. He’d prefer a ruined orgasm at this point—anything other than the torture of denial. He's a hard worked man, stressed, and this is no way to wind down after a particularly hard case.

But god do you feel good; even just your hand, though Hiromi knows he'll be begging for more of you by the end of the night. Your fist squeezes around his cock in a way much like you would if you were riding him instead, soaking him in the mess he makes of you... he can't handle the imagery, his fourth potential orgasm starts to rise in his chest.

Maybe if he doesn't tell you he's going to cum, you won't realise. He thinks on it, focuses on the sweet coos of praise that slip from your lips and enhance his pleasure ten-fold, and groans. God, he wants to be good for you, to experience the sweet reward for doing so. He doesn't want to disappoint, doesn't want to do anything other than please you.

"I'm close," he bites, hating himself for giving in so easy. His chest heaves with each buck of his hips into your hand, he's really chasing a release, and it brings a smile to your lips.

"I know," you say, and Hiromi can feel the god-awful twitch in your hand as you start to slow down your movements.

"No, please—"

"Don't beg," you hum and release his cock entirely; he has half a mind to reach down and stroke himself through a mediocre orgasm to stunt the awful wait. "You're going to cum when I let you cum, baby, begging won't sway me. Just enjoy it."

Enjoy it? Hiromi could laugh, how can he enjoy repeat denial? Even if your hands on him are godlike and he'd rather be here with you than anywhere else in the world. Even if he doesn't pick up on how loud he's being, how much he's writhing, how fucking good it really feels. Your Hiromi has a habit of getting stuck in his own head.

That's why he hardly registers it when you're climbing over him and sinking down onto his cock with a sharp gasp. When Hiromi finally catches up to your movements, and he's able to untangle his grip from the sheets to rest on your hips instead, he thinks he's seen heaven.

He's so fucking sensitive, and you feel so good around him—warm and wet and sensual in so many ways your hand just can't compare with. Suddenly, as you roll your hips against him and lean down to kiss at his jaw, he gets it.

"Holy shit." "Told you."

He's barely just come down from his last potential orgasm when he feels another one bubbling in his lower abdomen. He feels ashamed, almost, of how quick he's going to cum now that he's finally inside of you—that is if you let him finish, of course. He knows you told him not to beg but he can't help the string of 'please baby please' that falls from his trembling lips.

You smile against his jaw, press a delicate kiss to his freshly-shaved skin and whisper something in his ear that he'd argue in front of a court is on par with a heavenly commandment. "Cum for me, 'Romi."

Fuck seeing stars, Hiromi's vision is lost on him completely as your words force the most intense orgasm of his life to wrack through him. He feels it in his bones, in his fingertips that dig into your waist, in his lungs that empty themselves of air as he cries a sweet release. He's never cum this hard. He's never cum this much—he's still balls-deep inside of you can can feel his cum being forced out of you and down his thighs.

What could have been a painful five orgasms tonight is rolled into one, and Hiromi is left gasping for air and struggling to keep his thoughts in check as you roll your hips and help him ride out the overbearing pleasure.

"Say it," you tease, and though Hiromi is fucked stupid, he still manages to roll his eyes.

"You were right, I was wrong."

"Good," you hum, and bring your hips up a little just to drop back down on his aching length. "Because you're going to keep still until I cum too."

[roxoxoxoxy]

NSFW Headcanons For ZeroBaseOne Maknae Line

Includes:- Taerae, Ricky, Gyuvin, Gunwook

Shimkongz section is kinda long, mb guys, they're my biases 😞🔫

Many typos, not much grammar.

Hyung line, Maknae line

✿ ✿ Taerae ✿ ✿

Every group has a bitchless virgin and I fear Taerae is it HEAR ME OUT✋🏼✋🏼

Just never really bad the opportunity, I also kinda get the vibe he was less interested in romance than other people.

Or maybe that's just me leaning into the fact that he's the only T in the group.

He's awkward as hell I'm the beginning, stops you before something can really happen because he's kind of shy.

You definitely have to take a more forward role in the beginning but I don't see him as someone who's really into Dom/sub dynamics.

Pretty vanilla, at least for now.

REALLY likes getting head, seeing you on your knees trying to please him really gets him going.

Prettiest moans, his voice is so beautiful like 🤭

Cums ALOT, his thighs shake from how much he cums sometimes.

Speaking of which, he gets really tired after sex, like fall asleep any minute type of tired, just wants to cuddle and go to sleep.

Gets kind of annoyed when you insists on cleaning up but will do it if you make enough of a stink about it.

✿ ✿ Ricky ✿ ✿

lol. Lmao even.

I'm sorry everyone but in my heart this man is a loser.

Wdym you played daddy's home on your live stream and posed? YOU WANNA BE COOL SO BAD🫵🏼 (I say this with affection)

Talks a big game but at the end of the day he's only like 20 years old and doesn't have much experience.

Tries to do the daddy Dom stuff, fails spectacularly.

Really ties to be a hard dom but he's too much of a softy for that, he isn't a virgin but still needs to figure out what works for him.

Definitely does like being dominant just not as hard as he thought he did, think of him as a soft dom that's into some hard kinks.

Praise kink. Both giving and recieving, he isn't insecure in anyway but it really turns him on when you talk about how food he's making you feel.

Vice versa he also loves praising you, most of its unconscious though, it kinda spills out when he's inside you.

More switchy than he initially thought he would be, the first time you pushed him onto the bed to ride him, it unlocked something within him.

Lazy as hell during aftercare, usually you have to pester him to come shower with you.

Will order you food though, anything you want, Mr tall rich and handsome over here

✿ ✿ Gyuvin ✿ ✿

Service Top. Argue with the wall because I'm right!!

Into minor pet play, being called puppy and such. Might even let you put a collar on him of you really want.

Also doesn't have much experience but I don't think he's a virgin either, maybe slept with one more person before you.

HAVE YOU SEEN HIS HANDS.

Has you lean your back against his chest and spread your legs so he can finger you easier, won't let you get up until he's made you cum at least twice.

Also a switch, he's so much of a service top that he'll sub if that's what you want.

Huge praise kink, on the receiving end. I remember he mentioned once that he didn't get a lot of compliments growing up so when you praise him, especially when he's fucking you, it really gets to him.

Also feel like he cries after sometimes, I feel like he's just a emotional person in general.

Speaking of being a service top, another munch 🙏🏼, laps you up like a dog (istg I can't go more than two posts without writing something with pet play, that's mb)

Prefers missionary, really likes seeing your face and the way it contorts when he's hitting it right.

Really cuddly during aftercare, wants to talk to you and just hold you for a while, pulls up and covers and brushes your hair out of your face, smiling as he talks about anything and everything with you.

You eventually start feeling gross though and make him clean you up.

Small spoon.

Sigh, I want him do bad it's not even funny.

✿ ✿ Gunwook ✿ ✿

He's such a tease, type of guy to hold something over his head so he can watch you try to reach for it, that translates into bed too.

Makes you say what you want, even when it's clear as day, will literally have you half naked I his bed and still insist you tell him exactly what you want.

Consent king?? I guess???

Also loves getting head, like so much that he'll go out of his way to ask for it, not that you mind though, he's got a pretty dick and even prettier moans.

He's into mild bondage too, both being tied up and tying you up, something about him being at your mercy turns him on immensely, and vice versa.

Into body worship, giggles and blushes whoever you point out how good his muscles look in his tank top, shaking his head and denying your compliment, all the while your words went straight to his dick.

Has a pretty high libido, you've done it in less than private places more than once, he just can't help himself.

Kinda shit at aftercare at first, just kinda goes to sleep, maybe draping a arm around you.

He learns overtime though, he still does the bare minimum but he genuinely does care.

Big spoon.

Don't really like this but I still wanted to post </3

[actuallybean]

Truth Hurts* | Part Two

When a witch curses you to spill the truth and nothing but the truth, your biggest secret slips—you're hopelessly, shamelessly into both Winchesters. Good news? They’re just as into sharing as you are. *Contains sexual material: Minors DNI, threesome with brothers Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester Part Three Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl @hail-brod @s1mplyl0vely @ladykitana90 @bitchyfestivalbouquet @jenniferpendragon Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The motel room smelled like rain-soaked leather and old takeout, and for once, it was a comforting scent. You were freshly showered, wrapped in a pair of sleep shorts and one of Dean’s old shirts—yours still damp from the storm—and curled up on the edge of the bed with a bottle of water clutched like it might save you from yourself.

Dean was stretched across the other bed, boots off, feet crossed, one arm behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world. Sam sat at the small table near the window, typing away on his laptop, probably combing every obscure grimoire he could get his hands on.

But the real danger wasn’t the curse.

It was them.

The way they kept sneaking glances at you, like they were trying not to look too amused. Too curious. Like they were both quietly holding back a hundred questions and deciding which ones would make you squirm the most.

Dean grinned at you from his bed. “So. Just to recap… you ate my pie, sleep in my shirt, and lie about your coffee preferences. What else are you hiding, sweetheart?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Dean…”

“It’s for research,” Sam added innocently—though the way his lip twitched gave him away. “We should know the limits of the curse. Purely academic.”

“I hate both of you,” you muttered—and immediately followed with, “That’s a lie. I actually like you both too much and it’s becoming a problem.”

Dean choked on his beer. Sam looked like someone had just smacked him with a theology textbook.

You groaned. “God, I hate this. Can we not do the part where I become your personal truth jukebox?”

Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying not to laugh. “C’mon. One more test. Nothing big. What’s your most embarrassing moment?”

“Nope.”

Dean grinned. “You have to answer.”

You threw a pillow at him. “I once tripped over my own feet in the middle of a salt circle, landed on my face, and knocked out a tooth. During a hunt.”

Sam blinked. “Was that the werewolf in Kansas?”

You nodded miserably. “Yeah.”

Dean was full-on laughing now. “Oh man, that’s why you wouldn’t talk to us for a day and a half?”

“Yep. Because I looked like a hillbilly jack-o’-lantern and you still tried to flirt with me while I was icing my face.”

Dean snorted. “What can I say? I admire perseverance.”

Sam closed his laptop and leaned back, expression softening, thoughtful. “Okay. Serious question—does it hurt? Telling the truth like this?”

You paused, surprised. “No. It’s… actually kind of a relief. Like breathing out after holding your breath for too long.”

Dean’s teasing faded, just a little. “You always hold back?”

You hesitated. And then, like always, the truth came out on its own. “Yes. Especially around you two. Because it’s easier not to say anything than say too much.”

Dean sat up slowly, arms resting on his knees, eyes locked on yours. Sam had gone quiet beside you, his attention sharp and weighted now.

The room felt smaller suddenly. Warmer. Like the moment before a storm breaks.

You swallowed. “That’s enough testing for tonight.”

Dean didn’t argue. Sam didn’t push. They just nodded, wordless, but neither of them looked away.

And as you crawled under the covers and rolled to face the wall, your heartbeat loud in your ears, you could feel both of their gazes still on you—curious, careful, and maybe… something more.

You prayed they wouldn’t ask the real questions.

Because if they did, you weren’t sure either of you would be able to pretend anymore.

✦

The morning light crept into the room like it was trying not to wake anyone, soft and golden through threadbare curtains. Rain still dripped from the edge of the roof outside. The room was quiet, filled only with the low hum of the A/C unit and the sound of Sam’s fingers tapping gently at his laptop keyboard.

Dean, for once, was up early—coffee in hand, barefoot, leaning against the dresser in a threadbare Henley and flannel pajama pants. You were sitting cross-legged on the bed, wrapped in the same oversized shirt from last night, hair still damp from your rushed post-hunt shower. You felt raw. Honest. And still not totally safe.

You hadn’t said anything embarrassing yet this morning.

Yet.

Dean sipped his coffee. “You’re quiet.”

You shrugged. “Trying not to speak unless absolutely necessary.”

Sam looked up from the table. “I’m working on the reversal. Got some leads. But I don’t think you’re in danger.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Besides emotional humiliation?”

Dean chuckled. “Oh come on. It hasn’t been that bad.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I told you I cried when you ignored one of my texts for four hours.”

Dean’s grin widened. “Yeah, but that was kinda cute.”

Sam gave him a look.

Dean held up his hands. “What? It was.”

You groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “Just don’t ask me anything. Not today. I need a break.”

But that’s when it happened.

Dean’s voice, still lazy from sleep, floated across the room—casual. “Fine, fine. Just one more dumb question and I’m done.”

You glared at the ceiling.

He grinned. “If you weren’t cursed, what’s one thing you’d never tell us?”

You opened your mouth to refuse—to make a joke, dodge, say literally anything else. But the words pushed up your throat like a confession scalded into truth.

“That I think about both of you when I touch myself.”

Silence.

A long, bone-deep silence that wrapped around the room like it was holding its breath.

Dean blinked. His mouth opened slightly like maybe he was going to say something. He didn’t.

You sat up slowly, eyes wide, heart punching your ribs. “I didn’t mean to say that. I mean—I meant it—but I didn’t mean to say it.”

Sam had gone completely still in his chair, his jaw tight, one knuckle against his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, mortified. “I wasn’t—I didn’t—Dean, you said it was a dumb question!”

Dean just stared at you. His coffee cup slowly lowered from his lips. “You think about us. Plural.”

You nodded helplessly. “Yes.”

Sam finally spoke, voice quiet but hoarse. “At the same time?”

You closed your eyes. “Yes.”

A pause. A charged, heavy pause.

Dean’s voice dropped a note lower. “How long?”

You groaned, wanting to crawl into the floor. “Months. Since the djinn hunt in Montana. When you both got cut and I had to patch you up. I couldn't stop staring at your hands, Sam. And Dean was—God—you were all bloody and cocky and leaning on the doorframe like you hadn’t just nearly died, and I just—my brain short-circuited, okay?!”

The words just kept coming.

“And it’s not just about sex,” you blurted. “It’s everything. The way Sam reads and forgets to eat, the way Dean drives with one hand and sings off-key, the way you both look at me like I matter even when I’m a mess. I want you both. I love you both. And now you know. So just—please, someone kill me now.”

Your chest was heaving, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

Dean sat his coffee down with a quiet clink, eyes unreadable. Sam stood slowly, arms at his sides, breathing shallow.

You expected silence.

What you got instead… was movement.

Dean stepped forward first, slow, cautious, until he was standing at the foot of your bed. Sam came beside him, taller, tense. Your heart slammed against your ribs like it wanted out.

Dean tilted his head slightly. “Sweetheart, you really think we haven’t thought about this?”

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

Sam’s voice was low, but steady. “You’re not the only one who keeps secrets.”

Dean’s eyes darkened as he looked you over, gaze dropping to your parted lips. “You’ve been cursed to tell the truth. Maybe it’s time we do the same.”

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 48

(Grim has a certain preference towards Leona given the fact Leona is a Nemean Lion and a feline species like Grim. Though he teases Leona often and has gifted Leona the nickname Lion-a-guy, Grim is actually extremely fond of Leona and enjoys spending time with him. Leona is fond of Grim- not only for his bond to the Human, but for his personality and temper- so he will often be much more patient with Grim than he would any other child. Leona also feels a kind of Kingly Pride when it comes to protecting the kit as it is the male's job in a Lion Pride to be the defender.)

Warnings; yandere, arguing, protective behavior, short creepy moment, cuddling, eavesdropping, more yandere behavior from the guys, Hellcat, Nemean Lion, Harpies, Shinigami, Dragon, Drider

~~~~~~~~

"So... Tell me how this happened?"

You stood looking at the absolute mess that was Vil, Eric, Leona, and Grim tangled up in the branches of a tree. Though you had been determined to give Grim space to spread his wings and learn to fly from the Harpies, the loud yelling that drew you in was impossible to ignore. There were several shouts that had drawn your attention and drew you over to the group, now you could see that the males and your kit were stuck in a tree.

"The stupid bird wouldn't let me give your cub a bath after he got covered in dirt!"

"Say that to my face, Leona! I'll give you another scar to think about!"

"Piss off, Birdy! If you just let me give the cub a bath, we wouldn't be in this mess."

You frowned, looking away from the two arguing Housewardens and over at Eric who seemed more than a little embarrassed about being stuck in the tree. If anything, he looked more put out than Vil or Leona by the whole situation. It would make sense, he had been extremely regal and refined whenever you saw him prior, so he was likely more embarrassed that you saw him stuck in the tree than if someone else saw him.

Malleus stood over your shoulder, observing the several males tangled in the tree. He seemed rather amused by the nonsense that must have taken place to result in the two Harpies, one kit, and one Lion being stuck in the tree.

You were almost amused by the situation as well before you realized Grim was extremely quiet and worry began to build in you. The Kit's eyes were glassy and he seemed to have a small hitch in his breathing that only became more pronounced as you looked at him. He was crying.

The second your brain registered the Kit was in tears was the second the humor you felt at the situation died. You were quick to act on instinct and not on sense as you immediately began scaling the tree, ignoring the splinters and cuts you got on your hands as you hurried up the tree to where the Kit was stuck. He began openly weeping when you got to him, gently disentangling his tail and wings from the branches and pulling him close to your chest.

"M-Mama!!"

"It's okay, Sweetheart. It's okay..."

"M-my wings hurt!"

"We can have Papa Hades take a look at them to make sure nothing is broken. I think we are done with whatever adventure you were having today. How about we go home and rest for a bit?"

"Okay..."

As you began to look at getting down, you realized Malleus had also scaled the tree behind you and was keen to keep you close. He had been trying to untangle the still hissing Harpy and Nemean Lion duo when Grim had begun to sob. The others went silent as Grim cried and set aside their argument to give you and Grim quiet.

The Kit snuggled into your shoulder as you got him to stop crying, rubbing his back and slowly swaying to help him calm down. The Kit finally began to relax which gave you the chance to look over his wings, only seeing superficial scratches and no swelling. It was likely he was crying in frustration and from the sting of the scratches on his new wings. Odds are he was terrified of ruining his wings right after he got them back.

"May I help, Mademoiselle Trickster?"

You almost jumped in surprise at the sudden voice of Rook who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Despite how he startled you, his offer was certainly not an unwelcome one as you looked back at the base of the tree and realized you were actually rather high up. The height paired with holding Grim made it obvious that getting down from the tree would be difficult.

"If you don't mind helping me."

"Of course, Mademoiselle! It would be my most esteemed honor."

The Drider gently lifted you and Grim from the branch, easily using a spindle of silk to lower you down to the ground without jostling you. Malleus abandoned his prior goal of helping the Harpies and Lion to join you on the ground, his leathery wings helping him glide down next to you.

Vil and Leona seemed to finally be able to untangle themselves and were quick to try and join you on the ground. Vil paused to help his father untangle from the tree as the three managed to finally return to the ground. Despite how embarrassed the three looked, you were more focused on Grim instead and that seemed to help soothe the others.

Grim was much calmer than he was prior, still cuddled into your chest as he mewled gently to you. His cheek was pressed into your chest as he continued to slowly move his wings in pseudo-flapping motions. It was likely that he was trying to self soothe as he nuzzled close and tried to relax himself as much as possible.

As you pet his forehead a sound in the back of your mind drew you attention. It was a deep rolling noise of breathing that seemed to overpower everything else. You slowly turned to look towards the nearby treeline and saw an odd shape staring out at you from the darkness.

Underneath the shadow of the canopy was the twisted face of a bear staring at you. The poor beast had no fur remaining on half of it's emaciated body, burns coated the creature leaving the remaining fur burned. It looked more skeleton than bear as it huffed out heavily from an obviously broken jaw.

"Mousey?"

"Hm?"

You refused to look away from the scrawny bear, hearing the sound of Leona speaking gently to you. Whatever it was he said in response was lost to you as that breathing sound only got louder as the Bear began to slowly draw back into the forest. Your legs moved unbidden as you continued to focus on the bear, not realizing how you were drawing closer to it like a moth to flame.

Something inside of you screamed as you drew closer to the beast, seeing the way it glanced back as if encouraging you to follow. Before you could walk farther towards the woods, a pair of wings engulfed your being, breaking off your stare and looking back at whoever it was that had stopped your dazed approach. Malleus had a frown on his lips and his brows were pulled together in confusion as if he couldn't understand what was happening.

"(Y/n), my Treasure, are you alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you were about to wander into the poacher filled forests?"

"No, I was following the bear."

"What bear?"

"That one-"

As you pointed out to where the bear had been, nothing remained. There was no sign of the bear or that it had even been in the forest before you mentioned it. The sudden disappearance of such a large creature confused you, as there was no way they hadn't heard the beast huffing if you heard it so clearly.

"... Where did it go..?"

"Perhaps you aren't as rested and healed as you had believed. Maybe we should all return to your dorm."

"But it was there! I swear it was!"

Your insistence made Rook wonder if you were correct as he walked to the treeline. From first glance, there had been nothing disturbed. As the Drider took a longer look, he could see the indentations of large paws leading into the woods from where you had pointed. Indeed, there was a set of tracks that indicated the bear had stood for quite a long time before disappearing into the woods. Why it stood there and where it had gone was a mystery to the hunter, paired with the fact that he hadn't heard so much as a twig snapping, Rook was at a loss.

Only the Undying Ursus Minors would have left such tracks, but he had believed they kept clear of the school. One being present for so long piqued the Drider's curiosity as he turned back to regale his findings to you.

"It seems Mademoiselle Trickster is correct. There was a bear in the forest."

"I didn't hear a bear though. Mousey, what was it doing when you saw it?"

You glanced back at Leona before looking into the woods once more, your head tilted slightly as if the new angle would make the bear reappear. After a moment of watching the empty forest, your turned back to look at the Lion. He seemed equally concerned and you didn't miss the look that Vil and Eric shared.

"Watching. It was just... standing there watching."

Leona frowned at this, reaching out to begin herding you away from the woods. Malleus- for once- seemed to be of the same mind as Leona as the two ushered you away. Vil and Eric fell into step with the group while you were glancing back into the woods. None of them seemed as curious as you were and they seemed more perturbed than anything.

As you all made it back to the dorm, it was clear there was something more at play with how keen they were to get you to your room. You allowed them to lead you and Grim away with the promise of sending Hades to look at Grim's wings just in case. Once you were somewhat settled, the men were quick to leave you to your own devices as a hushed conversation kicked up just quiet enough that you couldn't understand what was being said.

If they weren't going to tell you what was going on, you would just have to go and figure it out yourself.

"Grim, sweetheart, will you do me a favor?"

~•§•~

"What do you mean it just stood there?"

"That's what Mousey said. That it was just watching us."

"And none of you saw or heard it? Just her?"

Vil nodded, standing with Eric as the two considered how long the bear may have been standing. They hadn't been in the tree long, but even still, none of them had noticed the beast.

The Harpies had both crashed into the tree after Leona jumped and grabbed onto Vil in an attempt to wrestle the kit away. Leona was nothing if not protective of his found Pride and Grim was a key part of that Pride as his cherished Mousey's cub. He was not about to let the 'prissy birdy' take away Grim's affection and attention.

There was also the fact that Grim wanted to go see Leona when he noticed the Lion, but Vil had tried to hold the Kit back and away from the rival Nemean Lion. Eric tried to stop the two from fighting but was pulled into the tree by the pair. It didn't end well for anyone, and it had ultimately upset Grim.

"I saw the tracks left by the Ursus Minor. Based on the depth of the first prints, it was standing like that for a while. It was odd though. Ursus Minor are clumsy and uncoordinated when their physical decay is that advanced. The prints were clean and deliberate leading into the woods. I would wager anyone could follow them with how precise they were. It was... Unusual."

Clay spoke up then, looking over his crossbow as he cleaned the weapon. The gleam of one of his Magestones sparkling in the interior light. Though he had been rather unassuming despite his grand reputation, it became unnerving watching the expert dismantle and clean the heavy crossbow as he spoke.

"I can look into it. Met my share of Ursus Minor in my day, and the last regular bear on Sage Island died years back. This kind of behavior is abnormal. If the Ursus Minor are changing, there must be an explanation as to why."

The Silverbacked Yeti grinned at the young yet adept hunter, seeing in him a common spirit. He had been hunting dangerous creatures for a while and was happy to impart his wisdom to the young adult. Perhaps he could even mentor the Drider that clearly had a decent repertoire of skills already.

"Shall we go follow the tracks and see just where this bear went? Perhaps it will shed some light on this recent shift in behavior that is also being seen in (Y/n). She may be healed from her illness, but her behavior of late is unusual. Sleepwalking. Frequent nightmares. This newfound interest in the Ursus Minor and Major. It could be coincidence. It could be something more."

Rook smiled brightly, seeming excited by the prospect of going on a hunt. Though he occasionally would hunt deer in the woods, he had learned to avoid the undead bears on his hunts. It was a thrilling idea to flip the script and hunt the bears instead.

"I'm honored! I shall work to be an adept understudy to your tutelage."

~•§•~

You frowned as Grim repeated the basics of what he heard to you. It was more than a little frustrating to be kept cooped up in your room instead of being able to see for yourself. Even if you went out, your collar would tell them you had wandered too far away and lead them right to you.

Of course, if you next got the chance, looking around the perimeter couldn't hurt, right?

[kingtomura]

From Water to Wine

summary: It’s so obvious — so glaringly obvious and you can’t believe the realization hit you right here, right now as Tomura makes you come undone on his tongue in the warmth of the morning twilight.

You love him. 

You love him.

Fuck.

Cw: Tomura shigaraki x female reader, quirkless AU, established relationship, smut with plot, lots of plot, jealousy, insecurity, hurt/comfort, oral (f! receiving), make up sx, confessions, a ton of kissing, not sorry, toxic environments, piv, overstim, creampie, begging, bad parental figures, toxic parenting, mdni

wc: 9.4k | crossposted to ao3 | part 4 of the strict parents au (one, two, three)

If someone had asked you a year ago where you saw yourself right now, you would have given them a million different answers. 

None of them involved your current reality. 

You would have never thought you would be right here, right now — in your boyfriend’s shabby basement drinking with his friends while they smoked and argued about the latest game releases.

And they were an interesting set of friends. 

“Bullshit, what the hell do you even know about games?” Tomura spat, pointing a finger and splashing a bit of beer from the bottle he held in his hand. 

The one you’ve come to know as Dabi just smiles that same grin that makes Tomura’s eye twitch in irritation and shrugs his shoulders. “Hey, not my fault some of us prefer first person shooters.” 

The conversation between them carries on and you find your mind drifting away — way too focused on the way Tomura has his arm wrapped around you with his free hand pressed against your hip, pulling you closer and making your cheeks flush deeper than what the alcohol already has. 

You like when he gets this way — a little louder and a little looser with his words. It's all a precursor to what will happen tonight, when he’s a little rougher and presses into you so much deeper. 

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, but you find yourself lost in the thought, biting your lip and watching the way Tomura’s heavy lidded eyes narrow as he focuses on his argument with Dabi. 

You can’t help but stare when he gets like this, the gleam of fire in his eye when he argues, never backing down when he knows he’s right. 

It’s alluring.

The giddy feeling you have only grows and you know its because tonight Tomura will fuck you in a way he only does when his grin is a little too wide and his eyes are a little too low. 

You feel more emboldened and your words are looser when it’s like this. Eager to speak up in the argument, defending Tomura against Dabi’s quips and its fun. 

It’s different to be able to speak so freely around people who would never judge you like your old stuck up friends would have. They all came from good families who have high expectations. Anything outside of the normal would be mocked and expelled. 

You feel so free here. 

With Tomura — with all of them. 

“Whatever you say, freak.”

“I'm sure it takes one to know one.” You shoot back and the room breaks out in laughter, even Dabi holds up his hands in surrender. 

The smug grin you wore only widened as Tomura leaned in and kissed your temple, proud that you can hold your own against the biggest smartass in the room. 

Himiko stands from her place on the couch with Spinner, laugh dying down, but smile remaining on her face. “Wow, Tomura, I like her way better than your other girl.”

You feel your grin slide off of your face as fast as it had arrived.

Other girl?

Tomura has never mentioned another girl besides you. 

The concerning comment makes your mind race with endless possibilities, the cycle only being broken as Himiko announces her departure, unaware of the inner turmoil she’s just thrown upon you.

“Jin doesn't like when I stay out too late so I’ll see you all later!” Her voice is high and chipper as she bounces towards the door.

“Hey, tell your brother don’t forget what he owes me, crazy girl!” Dabi yells after her, Himiko only returning a small wave and exiting the room. 

There’s a lull in the conversation, only being broken as Spinner dies in his game of Mario Kart, too drunk to focus, but all the more determined to win. 

“Damn it!” His frustration breaks through as he stands to his feet, “I almost had it!”

Dabi nods, clearly unbothered by the outburst and walking over to him, “work on it next time. It's getting late and I'm tired.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Spinner asks a little too loud, his intoxicated state more obvious as the minutes went on.

Dabi only shrugs, throwing an arm around his shoulder and leading him to the door. “Can’t let you walk home like this and risk getting snatched up now can I, princess?” 

You vaguely register Spinner’s retort as Dabi throws a hand up in a wave and leaves as well, leaving only you and Tomura in the room. 

What would have been exciting has become a weight in your stomach, leaving a pit of dread as your mind raced with Himiko’s words. 

Some other girl. Someone before you. A girl who’s already met his friends, who has already been in your place. It brings a different kind of feeling to your mind that you’ve never really experienced. 

The only thing that grounds you is Tomura’s shuffling as he stands and kisses your forehead. 

It’s as if that one kiss dispelled the thoughts poisoning your mind and replaced them with the warm feeling you usually have when it comes to Tomura. The feeling that is only heightened by the strong sensation of alcohol. 

You unsteadily trail behind him as he laces his fingers in yours and leads you out of the room and towards his. 

The path is a familiar one and the giddy feeling returns as you race through the familiar corridors with him. 

His home feels like a maze and the alcohol makes everything feel so much more fun. Your giggles and hurried footsteps are the only thing echoing throughout the halls as you chase behind him, eager to reach his room and come undone under his familiar touch.

Tomura has a habit of surprising you, though. 

You blame the alcohol for your dulled senses as you don’t expect him to stop before his bedroom, turning to press you into the corridor wall. A small gasp leaves you at the impact and you don’t have time to react before Tomura is gripping your thighs, hiking you up against the wall and pressing you so much closer.

The whimper that escapes your lips would embarrass you any other day, but today you can’t bring yourself to care. It only spurs Tomura on as he presses forward, kissing you with a fever you hadn’t expected him to be withholding. The urgency of the kiss only shows you how much he may have been holding back during the get together. 

You let out a soft moan as Tomura bites your lower lip, only to soothe it with his slick tongue in the next moment. Your arms wrap around his neck as you tilt your head, desperately seeking more of him as this heated endeavor grows with every passing moment. 

His hands travel up your thighs and along your sides, gripping anything and everything he could, pressing his clothed erection closer to your core and giving you more needed friction as he grinds against you. 

The way his hands slip under your shirt and massage your breasts makes you gasp again and Tomura takes this opportunity to press kisses along the column of your neck, loving the way he can finally leave as many marks as he wants. 

You’re in his home — there were no rules against marks. There were no rules at all. 

You close your eyes, getting lost in the feeling as Tomura licks and kisses along your neck, burying your hand in his ashen locks and weakly rutting your hips against his, craving more of him in any way possible. 

“So needy,” he breathes against you and you have to bite back a whine at his low tone. 

Tomura has you right where he wants you and it’s obvious. The more you ached for it, the more he would drag it out to tease you. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to rip the shorts off of you and take you right here, but you know it’s not that easy. 

“T-Tomura…” you try to keep it together, show him that you can be coherent even with the fuzz of alcohol muddling your mind. 

He pinches a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, this time drawing a yelp that you just couldn’t contain. 

His low chuckle reverberates against your neck, sending shivers all the way to your spine as slick between your thighs is beginning to soak through the material of your panties. 

“So sensitive, baby… you’d think I've been denying you.”

But you can’t help it. You wish you could cry out to him that your body just reacts like that for him, but you didn’t trust anything to fall from your lips besides a moan, so instead you keep quiet and hope he would give in to you sooner rather than later. 

Tomura trails kisses from your neck to your jaw, and then ultimately back to your soft lips, enjoying the feel of them against his. You knew this was always his favorite part. 

It was soft, it was intimate, and it was yours. 

Yours…

Your brows furrow at an unwanted thought, but you press on — pulling Tomura closer and flicking your tongue against his lips, knowing he would pull closer and deepen the kiss. 

He does and you’re grateful. 

The way his tongue dominates your mouth makes you mewl into the kiss. A welcome distraction from your increasingly loud thoughts. 

Tomura groans, bringing a hand down lower and lower until he reaches your clothed cunt. His finger presses against the thin fabric of the shorts, testing the waters of your sensitivity and loving the reaction he received in return. 

His touch makes your breath hitch, the feeling alleviating a bit of pressure that's been building up deep within you. 

You need more of it.

He pulls away again, trailing those soft kisses along your jaw and down your neck once more. It’s something that would usually make your heart flutter, but right now your mind is beginning to trail off, again. 

It’s the idea of your boyfriend with some other girl that haunts you. Someone before you. Her hands on his, doing the things you’ve grown to love with the boy you—

You squeeze your eyes shut.

You don’t want to think right now. You just want to feel. You just want Tomura to take you and make you feel good so you can stop fucking thinking—

“Hey.” 

Tomura’s sharp tone snaps you from your spiraling thoughts, bringing you back to reality. 

“What’s going on?” His voice is rough, as it usually is, but he is not frustrated. The narrowed glare in his eyes would make anyone else believe he was irritated, but not you. 

You know Tomura’s expressions like the back of your hand. He’s worried.

“I..” you pause, words lost on your tongue. What could you say? Jealousy is an ugly trait to have. “What do you mean?”

Tomura doesn’t buy your feigned ignorance. 

He pulls away further to get a better look at you, his hands resting on your thighs, the soothing motion of them tenderly rubbing up and down the exposed area makes you want to relax under his touch. 

“Why are you distracted?”

Your eyes cut to the side and you turn your head, unable to meet his ruby red gaze. The fear of admitting something as petty as jealousy eats at you. 

“I’m not.” You mutter, the lie not fooling your own ears. You’d be naive to think it would work on the one who taught you how to lie in the first place. 

It's clear he could see right through you and your eyes close at the soft touch of his hand along your chin, turning your head back to face him.

His eyes soften when they finally meet yours — the action is so slight you almost miss it. 

“You’re upset.” It’s a statement of the obvious, but you still bring yourself to nod, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth and hoping you could bite it hard enough to taste the iron of blood. Anything to distract you from the white hot humiliation that this conversation will bring to you. “Why?”

You inhale, knowing Tomura is not the type to let it go. Knowing he would keep you here all night if he had to so that you would speak your mind. 

“Himiko…” you mutter, dropping your eyes once more as the threat of tears begin to form along your waterline. 

“Himiko?” The complete confusion in his voice makes you more upset, he probably didn’t even remember what she’d said. 

“What she said earlier,” your voice wavers at your words and your defeat is imminent. The tears have already broken their bounds and began to trail down your cheeks. Embarrassment be damned. “About your.. Your ex.”

You could practically see the cogs turn in his head as he recounted tonight's events — the alcohol no doubt impairing his reflexes. 

His expression only makes the pit of anxiety in your gut grow, tight, but clearly showing signs of unease, “Oh, that.”

You nod, confirmation stinging. 

“That was someone I dated in highschool. Back when I was a teenager for three months.” His gentle hand moves from your chin to your cheek, wiping the falling tears from your flushed cheeks. “I don’t even think she lives in Kamino anymore, and I don't care. Haven’t cared in years. It’s why we broke up.”

Your heart still feels heavy with the weight of jealousy as Tomura comforts you. It's a bitter emotion that you know you have no right to feel. This was all before you, it shouldn’t matter. 

Even though you don’t meet his eyes, Tomura lets you down — your toes touching the cold hardwood of the hallway floor as he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. 

It’s soft and it’s sweet in ways you know Tomura only reserves just for you.

“C’mon, lets go to bed,” he takes your hand in his, leading you to the bedroom you’ve grown to know so well. “I’m exhausted.” 

And your heart beats in tandem with your steps as you make your way to the bed, your tears dried up as Tomura pulls you close, the warm embrace so much more soothing than you’d expected. 

It takes no time for your eyes to close — your mind drifting off to sleep as the weight of your heavy heart is lifted by Tomura’s touch. 

—---------------

There’s a window near Tomura’s bed. 

It's big and it gives you the best view when the weather is dark and rainy. It also has a secret gift of shining the morning sunlight directly in your face and waking you up. Something that Tomura had remedied for himself by covering the window with blackout curtains. 

You believe that one of you forgot to pull the curtain last night because the warm light of the sun’s rays cause you to stir from your sleep. 

No, that can be ignored. 

Something else is causing you to stir.

Something is making your brows furrow and your hips writhe as your lips part to pant at the feeling taking your breath away.

“W-what..” you mutter as you try to blink the sleep from your eyes, hand reaching down to investigate.

Your fingers meet the soft tresses of Tomura’s familiar locks just as his tongue makes direct contact with your clit, the feeling sending the wave of pleasure up your spine and causing you to cry out.

“Tomura..!” you cry weakly as you bury your fingers in his hair, back arching from the bed as he becomes more intentional with his actions, the excitement of waking you this way showing in his efforts. 

You gasp as Tomura’s skilled tongue flicks against your sensitive bud, his hands coming forward to hold your hips in place as he relaxes against your soaked cunt — lazily lapping at your entrance as you struggle to keep yourself together.

It’s effortless, the way he pushes your body to come apart, knowing you were still fighting the remnants of sleep and fully indulging in your pleasure. 

He gives your clit a soft kiss before moving to readjust on the bed, spreading your thighs wider as he watches your expression — his lips are glossy with saliva and slick, a small string of the mixture connecting him to your exposed cunt. 

Tomura has seen you in many different ways, in many different situations, but to be here, exposed before him so intimately makes you want to shy away. It makes you want to look away and you bashfully attempt to close your legs. 

If you were to keep going this way you may say some things you weren’t sure either of you were ready to hear. 

You blame it on the morning fuzz in your brain. 

There was no other explanation for the strong feelings you had within. The way they bubble along the surface of your words at every moment spent with Tomura. You know if you go longer with these feelings unchecked they would threaten to spill out and over — possibly tainting the comfort of your relationship with Tomura. 

“Ah!” you gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the lewd way Tomura laps at your cunt, moaning into you as the slick muscle of his tongue pushes you further and further to your end.

Tomura is watching your every move, his carmine eyes observing the way your hips twitch at the sensations, the way you breath hitches as he sucks on your clit — everything. 

You can’t help but fall into the pleasure. 

Coming undone is inevitable.

You toss your head to the side, the building pressure in your abdomen causing your thighs to tense as your hand finds his soft locks once more. The grip you had on his hair was nothing short of painful with the way you held on, but Tomura took it in stride, groaning at the rough treatment. 

He’s always liked when you were rougher with him. 

“F-fuck, Tomura, I can’t—” your words are slurred as his tongue glides against your clit, the sensitivity heighented as your mind rushes with the strong feelings that have plagued you for months.

You gasp as the budding realization hits you like a tidal wave. 

Your eyes clenched shut as the pleasure takes you over and under, dragging your muddled mind along as you come undone with Tomura’s touch. 

It’s so obvious — so glaringly obvious and you can’t believe the realization hit you right here, right now as Tomura makes you come undone on his tongue in the warmth of the morning twilight.

You love him. 

You love him.

Fuck.

Your body shivers as you reach the end, climax overtaking you while Tomura makes it his mission to make a complete mess of you — only stopping when your twitches of pleasure begin to meld into overstimulation, causing your hand to weakly push his head away.

There were tears lining your vision as Tomura brought himself back up to meet you, slick lips seeking yours and you hungrily greet him, unbothered by your own taste gracing your tongue as you languidly lick into his mouth. 

Your mind buzzed in the afterglow of an early morning orgasm and the idea of getting more from him entices you.

So much so that it makes you question why he hasn’t taken it further. 

Instead, Tomura pulls away, granting you one more kiss before lying down on his side of the bed, his words beating you to the question that awaited on your tongue.

“Headache,” he supplies as you turn towards him, the morning sunlight from the window illuminates his pale tresses in an almost pastel hue — hair so white it almost looks blue. You want to reach out and touch him. “I drank more than I thought last night and arguing with Dabi doesn’t help.”

Your heart tugs at the memory, a warm feeling spreading in your chest as you’ve grown to love those late weekend nights with Tomura’s friends. 

“I can bring you some water,” you offer, moving to stand. Maybe a little space would be good, it will give you a minute to think about the all consuming feelings that have flooded all parts of your mind this morning. “And some meds, too.”

Tomura hums in appreciation, turning over to face away from the sun.

You take that as your cue to go, but not before grabbing one of his oversized shirts and a pair of panties. Kurogiri shouldn’t be up at this time, but it would still be odd to walk around Tomura’s home naked. 

The trek to the kitchen is a short one and you waste no time grabbing an empty glass and some medication. 

Kurogiri was adamant about using one of those fancy water purifiers so it’s no surprise when you’ve fully distracted yourself, filling the glass and focusing your attention on the stream of water pouring from the refrigerator’s water dispenser. 

It’s so distracting that you don’t notice the presence behind you. 

“Oh, what’s this?” A deep voice behind you muses, catching your attention. The sound startles you so suddenly that you almost drop the glass of water. “Playing house now, are we?”

That doesn’t sound like Kurogiri, your thoughts race as you slowly turn to meet the mysterious voice of the man in question. 

He is… intimidating. 

He stands no less than twice your height with ashen hair that rivals Tomura’s. His eyes are even the same deep crimson of the boy you’ve grown to know so well. He eyes you with a tight smile, never straying from your gaze.

This must be—

“Are you Tomura’s friend?”

You nod, words caught in your throat, but you will yourself to speak. If this is who you think it is then it would be a bad idea to leave an impression worse than what you already have. “Yes.”

“I see. Would you be a dear and fetch him for me? I have a few words for him.” His tone is solid — even. 

You couldn’t make out how he felt in this moment if you tried. The small smile on his face seems pleasant, but given the circumstances of a half naked girl in what you can only assume to be his home really brings you no peace. 

So you nod again, hurrying off with the glass of water in your hand, forgoing the medicine and only wanting to be as far away from that man as possible. Something about him strikes fear into you. 

Tomura is in the same spot you left him before your kitchen adventure, but he cracks an eye open at the sound of you closing his bedroom door with a little too much force.

“What’s wrong?” he drags, turning over to face you and squinting as he gets hit directly in the face by the sun’s rays. You should really close that curtain soon.

The walk to him is short and you hand him the glass of water, bottom lip worried between your teeth as you search your mind for the right words.

“Someone’s here.” You didn’t mean to opt for an ominous choice, but you had no other idea what to say. Tomura has never talked about his parents. 

“What?”

“There’s a man in the kitchen. He wants to see you.”

This seems to click for Tomura as his eyes narrow for a second and then widen, ever so slightly, at the realization. 

You don’t know if that’s good or bad.

He sucks his teeth, taking the glass from your hand and downing the water as you watch on. Tomura seems calm, but he also has a very good poker face. If this is his parent then you’re not sure how long you would be able to stay.

The idea of going back makes you shiver. 

No, that’s not really an option. 

Tomura moves to stand, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and shirt, frustration evident in the way he tosses his clothes on. 

He gives you one more turn, words tight and brows downturned. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

You nod as he exits, leaving you alone in the silence of his bedroom. The beaming sun seems more comfortable than before, the warm rays dance along your skin as you play through every scenario that could come from their talk.

He could make you leave. 

That's the first and most obvious way to handle this situation. You know that your parents would never in a million years allow someone to stay under their roof with their daughter. It’s unheard of. 

Or worse, he could call your parents. 

You’ve gone completely no contact at this point and it wouldn’t be too much of a farfetched idea that this man would call them. Especially if Tomura tells him about your situation in full.

But… he could be a nice guy.

This could all be a big misunderstanding and blow over, if given enough time. This is more of a pipedream than a genuine idea, but you would go crazy if you only thought of the negatives. 

You don’t realize you’ve been pacing the room until you almost trip over a discarded shirt on Tomura’s floor. It stops you in your tracks and makes you look around to assess the state of his room. 

It's not perfect and it definitely needed work when you moved in, but it’s not terrible. 

You turn back to the door, as if Tomura would come bursting through with updates of the conversation at hand, but no. nothing has happened. Nothing has changed. 

The quiet of the room drives you crazy — there has to be something you can do.

It starts off small, picking up a few loose articles of clothing here and there, and then it delves into picking up empty drink cans, making the bed, and even sorting the mess of his closet. All in the name of passing time. 

By the time Tomura made his way back to the room, you have the space nearly spotless. He takes note, but refrains from commenting. Instead his next words shock you.

“He said you can stay.”

Your brows furrow. “I can?”

Tomura only nods, making his way back to his newly made bed and lying down once more, no doubt due to the headache still pounding against his skull. 

“That’s it?” you press — this all feels too easy. 

“Yeah, just wear pants more often.” He waves you off, turning over and gearing up to go back to sleep.

The comment makes your cheeks burn and you nod, even though Tomura can’t see it. 

It feels odd, especially knowing your parents would never allow this, but you suppose not everyone lived under such strict conditions. 

So instead, you push that uneasy feeling in the pit of your gut aside and climb into bed with Tomura.

His steady breathing is calming and the rhythmic sound helps you drift off as well, unable to shake the lingering of suspicion and uncertainty, ebbing away in the back of your mind.

—-----------

You’ve come to learn that Tomura is actually quite busy during the day. 

He is currently gearing up to go to his internship at the hospital, and it’s been taking up a chunk of his time lately. For a couple months he’s had a break from it since the doctor he had worked under was taking time away, but now he’s back and he wants Tomura to be busier than ever.

It’s not that you mind. Of course you knew Tomura’s life couldn’t revolve around you, but it still left you with not very much to do. 

On the days he has to go, you stay at home — your attention hopping from playing video games on his pc, to reading books then eventually cleaning. 

It's given you a lot of time to think about what you want for your own career. You’ve started to think long and hard about how you envision your future. The reason you were home from college in the first place was because you needed the time to think.

But now you have nothing but time and it feels even more stressful.

The thought of having to decide your entire future on a whim is daunting. 

What if you didn’t like where you were in five years? Could you start over? 

Would Tomura still be by your side?

That possibility catches you off guard as you stop in your tracks.  

Would he be by your side? 

You’ve never been in a relationship at all, especially not a long term one. You were all in, but how does Tomura feel? Would it be odd to ask? 

The plaguing thoughts seem to take root in your mind as you walk through the halls of Tomura’s home, hoping to find something to occupy your time and chase these feelings away. 

You think of the basement, it’s where the other gaming systems were set up and it’s also a good change of scenery. 

Yeah, that would take your mind off of it. 

Or it would have.

As you set your sights on the hallway that leads to the basement, there's a voice that catches your attention. It’s deep and ever so calm, even when strained by the words being spoken.

“That's not good enough. I told you to keep him there as much as you can.” The voice hisses to the person on the other line of what you can assume is a phone call. 

You stop in your tracks, just before you could pass the door of the room Shigaraki Senior was speaking from. Instead you listen in, putting your back to the wall beside the door and zoning in on his words.

“I don’t care how fast he tries to get the work done — he’s only doing that to get home sooner.” He pauses and takes a breath, frustration imminent. “I need them apart. He won't listen to me about it, but the sooner he gets bored of her, the better. I don’t have time for his little distractions.”

You have to bite back a gasp as the words ring in your ears. 

A distraction..? You knew it was too good to be true. 

“Right,” the voice carries on, calling your attention once more, “I understand, but if he is to be the next me he cannot afford to get sidetracked.”

You haven’t had much of a chance to get to know the head of the household, instead preferring to stick by Tomura and make yourself as unobtrusive as possible. 

It felt as though you were walking on eggshells. As if you were in an orientation period and any misstep would lead to you tossed out onto the street — you would be food for the wolves.

But you knew deep down that there was always something to worry about. It was too good to be true, yes, but you couldn’t understand why he was letting you stay anyway.

There's a lull in the conversation before it picks up again.

“I suppose…”  The man’s voice sounds like it's getting closer and you take that as your cue to go back to Tomura’s room — but not before you catch the sound of his parting words. “It seems I'll just have to try harder then, hm?”

You don't know what kind of games this man was going to play but you knew one thing.

You had to tell Tomura. 

—-----------

It doesn't go well.

“No, Tomura, I heard him,” you whisper, the harsh sound of your voice cutting through the dark room, the curtains blocking the light of the incoming dawn as Tomura began getting ready for another day at the hospital, “talking about us.” 

You look down, arms crossed and defensive. “He wants us to break up — and he thinks you’ll do it on your own.”

Tomura’s expression is a mix of shock and disbelief, probably unsure of why his father would ever want him to break up with someone who brings him so much joy.

“No, there’s no way.”

“I’m telling the truth.” you plead, putting on your best voice of reason.

“He wouldn’t do that. It doesn’t make sense.” His tone is snappy, clearly ready for this conversation to end. 

But you persist. “Why would I lie?” 

“I don’t know — why would you?” He shoots back and the retort makes your ears perk. 

“I would never lie to you, Tomura, I—”

“Just stop,” he holds up his hand and the shock of it makes halt in your tracks. You’ve never seen him this agitated, or irate. “You don’t even know him.” 

But I don't have to know him, the words echo in your mind, stuck on your tongue as you watch Tomura continue, one hand to his neck as he etched his bad habit into his skin. 

He was starting to spiral. 

“You’re not even giving him a chance! I know he wouldn’t do that — he cares about me! He's the only one who—” Tomura stops himself, frustration leading him down avenues you don't think he’s walked in years.

You reach a hand out, aiming to comfort his ravenous habit, aching to tell him what’s really been eating away at your emotions for the last few weeks, but Tomura only scowls, the harsh look so intense it makes you snatch your hand back.

He’s never looked at you with such disdain before.

“Whatever. I’ll see you later.” His tone is final as he turns towards the door and you watch as he takes a breath to calm himself down, lowering his hand from his now redded neck.

Your chest feels tight, words fighting on your tongue to admit what you’d been holding within. It’s eating you up inside how strong these feelings were. “Tomura, wait— I didn't mean to upset you.”

He pays you a glance, expression neutral and features school back to their default calm. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tonight.” 

And then he’s gone, leaving you alone once more in the room that you’ve both begun to grow into. The desperate feeling in your chest fights for your undivided attention and you're beginning to wonder how long you can keep it at bay. 

—----------

The night doesn’t feel any better. 

Tomura’s return brings the tension from this morning and you’re positive he didn’t have the best day during his internship. It pushes the pressure between you further.

The air feels thick as you both move about in his room — you, scanning the books along his bookshelf for another manga to read, and Tomura on the floor with his notes from the day spread out in front of him. 

Luckily for you, Tomura breaks the silence. 

“There’s a dinner tonight — my father wants us both there.”

This piques your interest, eyes darting to his tense form. “Like a fancy dinner?”

Tomura shakes his head, adjusting the papers below with a bit too much force. He takes one flyer and balls it up, tossing it into the trash can near his desk as if the paper offended him. It’s crumpled, but you can still make out the words: Almighty Medicine.

“No, it’s just with us. Kurogiri will cook.” He pauses, features pensive as he decides his next words. “He wants to get to know you.”

Your heart sinks. 

It sounds like a trap. 

But you really didn’t want a repeat of this morning, so instead you suck it up and nod — even though Tomura couldn't see you. His gaze was completely focused on the papers below. His shoulders were stiff as he slouched to halfheartedly read the notes. You debate giving him some kind of massage to ease the edge.

You refrain, choosing to wait it out a bit more. The last thing you want is to stress him even more before the last minute dinner. 

So with a resigned sigh you answer, “Okay.” 

—---------

Kurogiri is a good cook.

It's the only thought in your mind as you absently stare at the food plated before you. Dinner tonight was filled with flavorful meats and vibrant vegetables. The rice was a perfect accent to the other options and any other time you would find yourself eager to dig in. 

But not tonight. 

No, tonight you can’t seem to find your appetite. 

You only push your cabbage back and forth with your chopsticks and await the inevitable questions you're sure Shigaraki Senior will ask.

“Tomura,” his baritone voice breaks the silence and you focus more on your cabbage, “you seem tense. What’s the matter.”

There’s a pause, and Shigaraki Senior’s faux friendly demeanor is not lost on you. “I saw that asshole again today. His face pisses me off.”

His father frowns. “Yes, well. That’s just business. When you’re over the company you won’t have to see him—“

“That’s not the problem!” Tomura cuts him off and you hold your breath, you could never raise your voice at home, “He leads his hospital and he’s a provider.”

“And that is not the path I have laid out for you.” The words are calm and collected, no hint of malice or anger. It’s eerily calm. 

 “Yeah, whatever. When are you going on that business trip again?” Tomura snaps.

The tension in the air is suffocating, it's thick and it's tense. It makes you want to run away, your feet anxiously tapping as you will yourself to bite down the uneasy feeling. 

The slow smile that creeps its way onto his father’s face makes your skin crawl. “You know, I believe I have more important matters to handle here at our home and in our town.”

“Great.” The sarcasm is evident in Tomura’s voice, dripping into the already strained air. 

“Well, that’s enough about our family matters... how about you, young lady.” His sharp eyes catch yours and you feel like a deer in headlights. “How are your parents? Do they know you’re here with my boy?”

You feel struck by his words, the pang in your stomach reverberating through your body as you scramble to find the words to answer him. “Well—”

“They’re aware.” Tomura cuts you off, his glare is ice as he places his chopsticks down and leans back in his chair, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. 

It seemed to be a challenge, one you are not prepared to back him up on. 

You were never a good liar. 

His father’s attention is snapped back to Tomura and you were sure anyone else would falter under that glare. 

“Really? If it were my boy off staying with some young girl I would want to at least get to know the one who’s paying the bills.”

He only shrugs in response, false air of disinterest apparent as he picks his chopsticks up again, picking away at his food once more. “Well it’s a good thing she isn’t your child then, huh.”

You think the conversation is over — that Tomura has successfully dodged this bullet and you will be allowed a peaceful dinner, but things were never that easy for you. 

“I think we should give them a call, hm? If she’s staying in my home I want to make sure they know all the details.”

You watch Tomura’s fingers twitch, irritation threatening to explode and you can’t help but think that’s exactly what his father wants to see. 

It’s toxic, in a whole new way. 

“Fine,” Tomura surprises you, your eyes cut to his stiff form, “since you’re so worried why don’t you go ahead and do it. I don’t get why you care so much anyway.”

His father seems unimpressed — that smile and those chilling eyes frighten you, it makes your blood feel like ice in your veins. “You’re right, Tomura. I shouldn’t care. And you know what? I won’t.”

You both look up, dumbfounded. 

“I won’t care unless you both give me a reason to care. How does that sound?” 

It sounds fantastic, in theory, but you know that it doesn’t matter how it sounds. 

It’s blackmail. 

The reality of the situation hits you then and there. 

Tomura is combative with his father because he can be.

“I think that’s a fair trade, don't you, Tomura?”

But only to a certain extent. 

Your eyes dart between the two of them as the weight of his words set in. Tomura is forced to comply — agree to his fathers terms or else. This is a battlefield you aren't familiar with — one of mind games and bad faith practices. 

It is naive to think Shigaraki Senior will be sensible in what he decides are good reasons.

Your time here was limited.

The end of dinner was as stressful as its start: tense, awkward and very foreboding. 

The stress of it all had Tomura pacing his room while you helplessly sat on the bed fighting the urge to tell him I told you so — that would help no one here. 

“This is bullshit!” he starts, the frustration of his thoughts coming to a head and spilling out. “Give me a reason, yeah, whatever.” 

Your brows furrow as you watch Tomura vent, his bitter words hanging in the air as you purse your lips — trying and failing to come up with any kind of solution for your situation. 

“And why does it even matter that you're here? He’s hardly here anyway!” The perturbing scratching habit has made its return and this time you do stand to your feet, marching over to where Tomura paced and taking his hand. 

As upsetting as this situation was, you knew that it wouldn’t do either of you any good if tomura destroyed himself in the process of understanding his father’s true intentions. 

“Hey,” you try, reaching for his hand and refusing to back down this time. “We’ll figure something out.”

You’re surprised when he lets you, his carmine eyes lock with yours as his ever present scowl remains unchanged. “Yeah, like what?”

You try to ignore the cross tone in his voice, opting to just hold his hand and try again. You're beginning to realize this is uncharted territory for both of you. 

“I don’t know, who was the guy you saw at your internship? The one who runs the other hospital and all? Maybe you could ask how he—”

“I am not doing that.” Tomura cuts you off, voice even more agitated.

Your brows furrow in confusion as you ignore his tone. You squeeze his hand instead, still trying to remain calm. “But you never know, Tomura. Maybe he could help you—”

“No! Why would I ask him of all people?” He snatches his hand away and you realize you’ve struck a nerve. 

This wouldn’t end well.

“You don’t even know who he is, you don’t know what he’s done!” His voice begins to rise and you wonder if he’s aware of the hurt lining his words. There is a hidden history in this mystery man that Tomura has foregone informing you of. 

You’re beginning to recognize a pattern — something about that fact gets under your skin. 

“Maybe I would if you actually told me anything about your life, Tomura! You’ve barely let me in at all!” 

And it’s true. 

You knew nothing about his father, he doesn't talk to you about his internship and you don’t even know who this mystery super provider is. You’ve been in the dark for a while and you’re tired of it. 

“And why should I do that?” He questions, becoming more and more defensive as the conversation carries on. “So you can use it against me?”

“What?” you gasp, baffled by his accusation. “Why would I ever do that?”

“I don’t know! Why else would you fucking care?”

“I care because I love you, dumbass!”

Both of you freeze. 

You didn’t want it to come out this way. 

You wanted the confession to be one of candied words and hushed whispers. You wanted it to be slow and romantic, maybe while Tomura was deep inside of you, hitting that sensitive spot that made you see stars. 

But things were never ordinary when you were dating a man like Tomura Shigaraki. 

In that moment you realize that maybe this was something you were willing to learn to live with. 

“What,” Tomura’s voice is low as if speaking louder would shatter the still air within the room, “what did you just say?”

Your breath hitches, the buzz of anxiety and anticipation makes you hesitate. “I said.. I love you, Tomura.”

He takes a step forward, it’s slow but sure. You remain stagnant and still. 

“Say it again.”

You do. 

“I love you, Tomura.” The words are warm as they leave your lips and now he stands before you, his height forcing you to look up at him. 

His carmine eyes shine with unbridled fervor that seems to be itching to make itself known. 

You want to see him lose control. 

So with a slow smile, you gear up to say it again, “I love y—“

You’re cut off by the press of Tomura’s lips against yours and the desperation in it pushes you back. Tomura is fast, pulling you closer to stop you from losing your balance. You feel lightweight as you wrap your arms around Tomura’s neck, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

It’s intoxicating the way he maneuvers you, the way he makes you melt into the kiss, desperate for more — and he gives it to you. 

His hands trail up your sides and back down to grip your ass. The action makes you gasp and Tomura wastes no time taking advantage of the opportunity, his tongue dominating your mouth as the heat between your thighs grows. 

You moan into the kiss and lean forward as Tomura begins to pull away. 

Your nose scrunches in confusion as he gazes down at you, lazy grin on his face. 

There isn’t much time to mull over what Tomura was thinking, he takes your confusion in stride, using the opportunity to push you back, bottom landing onto the bed and bouncing once with the force of impact. 

Before you can speak, Tomura is on you, lips against yours and pushing you down onto his dark sheets. You bring a hand to those familiar pale locks and close your eyes — allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling and finally release the pent up energy of your emotions. 

Tomura is quick, fingers curling around the hem of your shorts and dragging them down with your panties in tow and leaving you exposed before him. 

You gasp at the gentle touch of his index finger slipping between your slick folds and going no further.

“Tomura…” you try, pulling away from the kiss and hoping the hunger in your voice would be enough for him to continue.

He only gazes at you, eyes half lidded yet vibrant. You’re sure he’s put you in a trance.

“Say it again.” 

“I love you.” you breathe and then gasp as he finally touches you. 

His finger is gentle as he rubs slow circles onto your clit, the action makes your head feel fuzzy as the pleasure begins to rise. 

Tomura leans forward to press kisses against the column of your neck, nipping and sucking along the soft flesh — no doubt trying to leave deep marks into your skin. 

“Mm!” you squeeze your eyes shut as he picks up the pace, adding more pressure to his movements and slowly bringing you closer to the edge. Tomura is steady with his hands, he knows your body so well. From the inside and out so he knows that if he continues at this pace you would come undone way before you wanted to. 

Maybe that's what he was aiming for. 

His other hand is warm as he cups your breast, tweaking a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, knowing it drives you crazy. You feel dizzy as his fingers leave your clit and travel lower to your entrance, pressing not one, but two fingers inside and chuckling at your whine.

“What?” he teases, pumping the digits in and out as you writhe beneath him, “too much?”

You want to shake your head, tell him no, and that it's never too much when it comes to him, but the only thing you can manage is a pathetic whimper as you grip his dark shirt. “Please, Tomura.” 

“Please, what?” you can feel his grin against your neck as he places another open mouthed kiss against your collarbone. “You gotta talk to me, baby.”

“T-touch me,” you plead. 

He moves up so that he’s eye to eye with you once more. The grin on his face was just as you imagined it, smug and excited. “I am touching you.”

You close your eyes again, knowing exactly what he wants you to say. “Make me feel good, Tomura. Please.”

He likes that answer, you can tell by the way his eyes soften and his fingers twitch ever so slightly within you. 

Tomura leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss once more as he moves his fingers with purpose, his thumb now pressing against your clit as the sensation grows.

It's hard to contain your cries, but you try. His fathers words echoing in the back of your mind — the possibility of loud sex with his son being a reason to kick you out almost makes you laugh.

At this point it would probably be worth it. 

“F-fuck,” you breathe as you lean into the feeling, your eyes flutter closed as you bring Tomura closer. Your peak is so, so close you can almost taste it.

Tomura would tease you any other time. He would try to drag it out in an attempt to see you squirm, but tonight he’s being so kind. He is so generous as he brushes against that spot inside that drives you crazy. He does it over and over again, making your toes curl in pleasure as the euphoric feeling takes you over the edge. 

The elation of your orgasm makes you shiver and cry out, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you lose yourself in him. 

Tomura presses another kiss to your sweet lips, swallowing your moans as you cum on his fingers, soaking the digits in your slick and trembling in pleasure, 

Once you come down from your high Tomura is quick to remove his clothes and you follow his lead, finally removing your shirt. 

The feeling of his warm chest against yours is always so comforting. It brings a feeling of safety and security as he presses against you, his cock rock hard and dripping from the excitement earlier. 

He places a chaste kiss against your lips as he rubs the head of his cock between your slick folds, the glide is smooth and you gasp every time he brushes against your clit. Your hands find his soft locks again as you begin to move in tandem with his actions, trying to get more of the feeling as best you can. 

At this, Tomura pulls away, kiss swollen lips red and eyes soft, his words hold no bite, “Desperate, huh?” 

You nod, in no mood to tease back and Tomura can tell. He feels it in the way you look at him, so he presses his forehead against yours, his pale locks falling against your cheeks. 

“Again, tell it to me again.”

And you know what he’s talking about. You’re both so close, chest to chest and you swore your hearts were beating in tandem.

“I love you, Tomura.” you whisper and it's for his ears only.

Tomura groans, closing his eyes with a soft grin on his lips.

“Fuck…” he breathes against you, and that’s all it takes as he presses into you. The stretch of his cock makes you wince, but the smooth slick of your arousal helps him slide in with ease. 

You hold on and allow Tomura to anchor you as he pushes forward, desperate to give you everything he can. 

He bottoms out with a sigh, filling you completely as you bite your lip in anticipation — the pressure of feeling full is addictive. It doesn't take Tomura long to move, his eagerness impossible to hide as he pulls back, almost pulling out, and drives forward, rough and desperate.

It’s everything you've wanted and your body is greedy as you take in all of him. 

“Yes, Tomura!” You fight to keep your voice down but it proves impossible as Tomura sets a brutal pace, fucking out every ounce of tension he’s held within for the past few days. You can feel it as it unravels with each and every trust. 

Tomura adjusts ever so slightly and that's all it takes for him to hit that special place inside of you. 

“A-ah!” You moan underneath him, ripples of pleasure cascading up your spine as his sharp assault on your sensitive spot carries on. The consistent sparks of pleasure have your brows furrowed and legs wrapped around his waist, desperate to pull him closer, to feel him deeper. 

“Fuck,” Tomura mumbles and his low tone makes you shiver. 

You know that you won't last much longer if he keeps this up, but you give up trying to hold back. You cannot stop the way your cries spill from your lips, echoing against the walls of Tomura’s bedroom and mixing with the sound of his urgent trusts.

The lewd noises rise as your cunt drips with arousal against Tomura’s push and pull thrusts. His heavy balls slap against your ass with the force of them and you close your eyes, falling into the rhythm. 

You dont expect it when it happens, but it comes all the same — your orgasm takes you under, the overwhelming feeling of ecstasy capturing your mind as your lover fucks you through it. 

He groans at the sensations, the way your cunt squeezes him almost sends him over with you, but he holds on.

Tomura lowers himself, slowing down as you ride out your high and his lips are close to your ear.

“Fuck,” he starts and you feel his hips stutter as he tries to regain his pace, sending you into overstimulation. Tomura knows you can take it — and he can’t stop now. He was so close to his peak. “L-love you.. So much..” 

The words make your eyes widen, they are soft and slow as if unspoken for years and you can’t help but wonder how many. 

“Tomura..” you whisper as you turn your head, craving his lips and his gaze. 

Your eyes meet and you feel synced as you bring a hand down to his cheek, your heart racing as he leans into your touch. 

Yes, you love him. Truly and deeply, you love Tomura. 

He pushes forward, capturing your lips in a kiss as his thrusts grow more erratic, hungry for his own release as he groans against your lips. 

It doesn’t take long — Tomura gives a few more strong thrusts and meets his end, cumming inside of you with a mewl that you drink up. The twitch of his cock is subtle but the pearly white ropes fill you to the brim, leaving you ruined and raw as he pumps it as deeply as he could.

Tomura pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. Sweaty and sated you both try to catch your breath. 

His bedroom is quiet and still, making you both feel as though you were the only two in the world. You know that it is deep into the night and Tomura would still have to wake up early in the morning, but you know none of that matters to him.

No, Tomura couldn't care less as shares this moment with you, the stress finally expelled from his body and the weight lifted from his mind. 

His carmine eyes hold you captive as you melt into them and you realize then that you can’t see yourself anywhere but here — with Tomura. 

It's a chilling realization. 

Once you’ve both gathered your bearings and Tomura pulls out — taking his rightful place beside you, the overwhelming pull of sleep drags you along. 

Tomura leans forward, placing a soft kiss onto your forehead with whispers of goodnight and his newly relaxed demeanor is contagious. 

You know that you may be on borrowed time with him here, but that's okay.

Your eyes catch the crumpled flyer hanging near the trashcan by his desk, the words Almighty Medicine big and bold on the paper.

The feeling of sleep is heavy in your body, but your last thoughts are of a plan. 

You know there’s a way out of here. 

For both of you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Baby, I'm Cold

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

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

Summary: Your boss is a stubborn man but even he can get sick. (plus!reader)

Character: August Walker

Day Twenty-One of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - I swear I'm not sick

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

Mr. Walker leaves his bag at the door, his jacket too. You move his shoes so they sit neatly on the drip tray and hang his jacket. You pick up his briefcase and carry it up to his office. As you near the closed door, you hear him coughing from the other side. 

You slow as you approach and knock on the door, “sir, I have your things.” 

He coughs again then calls through hoarsely, “in.” 

You twist the handle and dip inside. You set the bag on the leather armchair where you always do and retreat as your employer sniffles. He lets out a crackly sigh after. He sits behind his desk, silent, stony. His usual self except for the raspy breaths he lets out. 

You don’t await his dismissal. You know if he has to tell you to go, it means you’ve overstayed. Mr. Walker prefers discretion. He prefers solace. It makes your job both easy but difficult. 

You leave and go down to the kitchen. At this time, he won’t have eaten. He’ll need dinner. With his cough and stuffed nose in mind, you prepare him some chicken and rice soup. You put a thick hunk of artisinal bread with it and a cup of tea. 

You carry it up to him and announce your purpose at the door, “dinner, sir.” 

He grumbles. You know his sounds well enough to enter. You bring the tray to his desk as he sits back in his chair, unmoving, eyes closed, hands firm around the rests. You hear the rattle in his chest from there. 

“Anything else, sir?” 

He opens one eye and the icy blue chills you. His single iris flicks down as he considers the tray. He opens his other eye and sits forward. He swallows another cough. 

“What is this?” He touches the mug’s handle. 

“Tea, sir. I found some ginger. I added a touch of honey--” 

“Why?” 

“Why, sir?” 

“I don’t drink tea. I haven’t ever drunk tea. It’s for my mother. So why--” He snaps his mouth shut and his throat strains as he holds back another cough. He lets out a single croak and clears away the rocky crags. “Why are you serving it to me?” 

“Oh, uh, sir, it will soothe your cough--” 

“I’m not sick.” 

“Yes, sir, the air is dry this time of year,” you agree. 

“I don’t want the fucking tea.” 

“Sir.” 

You come around and take the cup. He sits back again and turns the seat away. You hold the steaming cup and quickly head for the door. You stop, remind by his reprimand of something else. 

“Your mother and father will arrive tomorrow morning. I’ve arranged their room and all else.” You confirm. 

“Great, you did your job,” he sneers dryly. 

“Sir,” you murmur and turn to the door. 

Just a few more hours and you’ll be free. It’s the holidays and even Mr. Walker gave you a day to spend with your family. Though you suspect it’s more that he doesn’t want you around his.  

For the three years you’ve worked for him, you’ve never met a single other person in his life. You clean the house, you pick up his laundry, and you order groceries. You are peripheral. You are the tedium that fuels the more concerning parts of his life. 

🌟

Your mother and stepfather are arguing on the porch. Again. Your aunt and uncle are showing off their toddler grandchild, and your brother, the terrible twins, more than a decade your junior, are flipping through their phones. You sit and observe it all. 

You glance at the window, your mom’s anger expounded in the wag of her finger. You get up as the smell of ham draws you into the kitchen. You check to make sure it’s not overdone then piddle around, trying to distract yourself from the chaos. 

Your back pocket rumbles. You ignore it. It’s some promo trying to entice you into ordering food. On Christmas of all day. As the vibration persists, you assume it’s some poor telemarketer, forced to make the rounds for a bit of overtime pay. 

You ignore it. You work on finishing the brussel sprouts your mother left in the strainer. You cut of the ends and slice an X into them. Your phone starts again. You don’t put down the knife until the third call. 

Walker. 

You hesitate but pick up. Why would he be calling, today of all days. You fix your posture as you answer, as if he can see you. 

“Mr. Walker,” you eke out, nervous you might have missed something. 

“Hello, is this...” a woman says your name curiously. 

“Uh, yes, it’s me,” you affirm. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to bother you, especially today, but we are in need of some help,” her voice is tremulous. 

“I told you,” a male can be heard more distantly. “We shouldn’t bother them. There’s a reason they aren’t here, dear.” 

“Pish,” the woman dismisses. “Very sorry again but my son--” 

“Katherine,” you say, “Mr. Walker’s mother?” 

“Yes, Auggy is my son,” she tuts. “As I was trying to explain, he’s doing rather poorly but he’s refusing my care. He’s always been awfully stubborn, you know?” 

“Kath,” the man drones. 

“Oh, I know, I know,” she squeals at him. “He doesn’t want his mommy fluttering around him like an old hen, but you understand, he’s my baby. I’m worried. And so we were looking and saw your name. A girl’s name so you must be someone special.” 

“Katherine,” the man sighs once more. 

“I’m his housekeeper, ma’am,” you explain. 

“Hum, oh, of course. You would be,” she says. “Oh, my, I’m afraid I’ve assumed so much.” 

“Is he still coughing then?” You ask. 

“Oh, yes, terrible. He sounds as if he’s swallowed glass.” 

“We’ll call a doctor,” the man intones. 

“Octavius, please, which doctor do you suggest we call? They all fly out of the country on their salaries,” she chirps. “Honey, please, if you don’t mind, you might be able to coax him. If you are his maid, you’d only be doing your job. He can’t turn you away.” 

You frown. She doesn’t know how wrong she is. He would and he will. 

“Lucine, please,” your step father’s voice blows through with a gust as he comes inside. His anger is forged into his tone and the door slams. You wince. 

“I can be there,” you tell Katherine. It won’t make a difference but it will get you away from all this. 

🌟

Katherine as good as drags you through the door. You didn’t even knock before she swung it open. She’s a tall woman, plump, and her face is rosy. She’s not what you expect. 

“Yes, come in, come in,” she says. “Oh, what’ve you brought?” 

She gestures to the canvas bag on your elbow. 

“Just some stuff to help,” you explain as the warmth of inside seeps beneath the chill in your cheeks. “Hopefully.” 

“Oh, yes, how clever of you.” 

She takes the bag and you let her. She sets in on the bench and unbuttons your top button before you can stop her. You gently catch her hands then do the rest yourself. 

“Sorry, dear, sorry. It’s only, I’m so worried.” 

“He’s a man, he’ll be fine. If you’d stop pecking at him, he wouldn’t be hiding,” a man appears in the archway to the den. He’s big like Mr. Walker, with white hair and paler eyes. He crosses his arms in the same way. That must be the father. 

“He’s sick! You heard him. He wouldn’t listen--” 

“He was doing just fine, Katherine.” 

“Tosh, you don’t know that. You never were there when he was home sick. He needs his orange juice and chicken noodle.” 

“He needs you to stop,” the man you assume is Octavius reproaches. 

“I can check on him but... it’s probably just a cold,” you say as you slip out of your boots. 

“So long as you try.” 

“Right,” you grab the bag and twist the handles. 

You go to the bottom of the stairs and look up. You peer side to side, from mother, to father, both tentatively watching you in turn. It seems Walker puts everyone at arm’s length. 

You take the first step with trepidation. Then the second. Up and up, you climb until you reach the top. You turn down the hallway and come to the office door. You bite the inside of your lip and knock. You don’t get an answer. 

You look at the bag in your hand and contemplate running back downstairs. You can say you tried and got the same result. Still, that Walker doesn’t shout for you to scram is worrying. 

You knock again to the same result. Several more taps go unanswered before you are faced with another decision. Do you go in, just to make sure? 

It would be a waste. You left your family, Katherine waited around for you, you suppose you can brave Walker’s wrath to give her the gift of knowing all is well. 

You inhale and hold it in. You enter the office, peeking through as you do. It’s dim but for the light of the glass lamp on the desk. As you look for the broad figure behind it, you find only an empty chair. 

You frown. He must be in his room or-- 

The grumble jars you. You squint as you try to see through the dark. You find Mr. Walker on the leather settee near the artificial fireplace set into the wall. Great. You should go. You can do that still. He’s not answering you so obviously he doesn’t want to be disturbed. 

He coughs, a sharp, agonizing cough that makes even your throat hurt. You let your breath out. Ugh. He’s a big boy, literally, he can handle it. Right? 

Shit. 

You cross the room and turn the dial on the artificial fireplace. It lights up, casting a soft glow over the office. You turn to find Walker shivering on the cushions, arms crossed as he hugs himself, legs bent to accommodate the short furniture. 

“Mr. Walker, I brought some cough drops and some cold medicine,” you say.  

He groans and doesn’t move. He hacks again, the couch frame creaking under his weight. Why? You shouldn’t feel bad for him. Not for as unpleasant as he’s consistently been. 

You move a leather stool closer and sit. You cradle the bag on your knees and sift through the contents. You take out the bottle of Buckleys. You shake it and reach with your other hand to touch his shining forehead. His eyes pop open and his mustache twitches. 

“Mr. Walker, I have cough syrup--” 

“I’m fine,” he insists, only to cough again. “I don’t want that—sh-- *cough*-- shi-- *cough*” He devolves into a fit and you wait patiently. 

“If you don’t want it, you should try some of these ginger drops.” 

“Why are you here?” 

You steady your agitation. “Your mother called me.” 

“Why did she--” He can’t finish the question. 

“She asked me to help you. I’m trying but I can’t do much if you won’t let me. However, you are my boss so you can tell me to go back home to my family,” you shrug. 

He looks at you then closes his eyes. He shifts onto his back and lifts his legs, extending them over the armrest. He is ridiculous big on the short sofa. 

“Do whatever. I thought you were a maid, not--” 

He can’t finish the insult but you get the gist. You dig around in the bag and take out the tin of menthol rub. You uncap it as his face contorts in an effort to repress his coughing. You hold it out under his nose and he sucks in and flinches. 

He grabs his nose as you recoil and blinks, “what is that?” 

“Just menthol, it will clear your airways a bit.” 

“Oh,” he furrows his dark brows. 

“Typically, you put it on your chest but it’s kind of greasy so--” 

“Do that,” he insists and sniffs deeply, “it’s helping.” 

“Oh, uh...” you stare at him. 

He’s sallow, the brims of his eyes reddened, and his face drawn. You nod and lightly touch the gel. You hesitate. You won’t be able to reach him and... right. 

“Can you...” You look at his shirt collar, “unbutton.” 

He coughs again, a rumble in his chest, and he clumsily pinches his buttons until he frees them. He pulls the fabric apart to reveal his furry chest and you stand. You move closer and bend over him as you gently trace beneath his throat, that little crook of bone above his muscled pecs. You focus on spreading the menthol as he breathes deeper, further puffing out his chest. 

“Better?” You ask. 

He makes a noise, something akin to a purr. You rub the cream in until It’s absorbed then pull away. You cap the container and put it back in the bag. You put it all on the stool and back away. 

“Where are you going?” Walker mutters. 

“To wash my hands,” you say. 

“Mmm, be quick.” 

You take his orders and hurry out. You come down the hallway and dip into the bathroom to rinse your hands. As you dry off, you nearly squeal as a shadow appears in the door. Katherine wrings her hands as she shifts back and forth. 

“Is he okay?” She asks. 

“He’s fine, I think. Just sick. Stubborn.” 

“Oh, very,” she agrees with your last statement. 

“I’m just trying to get him to take some cough meds,” you explain. 

“Ah, good luck,” she trills, “I will make some tea, if you like?” 

“Uh, yeah, we can try that,” you agree. 

She hurries off and you go back down the hall. The smell of menthol and the crackle of the fake fire welcome you in. You go to the settee as Walker lays quietly, breathing in and out, as his shirt remains open. 

“I think the cough syrup will help,” you say. 

He doesn’t respond. You watch the cadence of his chest. Is he asleep. You move around slowly, trying not to knock anything with your hip or step too heavy. You gather up the bag. He can probably sleep it off. 

You let out a squeal as you feel a brush against your bum. You spin as Walker’s arm extends to you and he catches your hip. You stutter in surprise. 

“S-sir!” 

“I’m sick,” he whines, though the surrender is hardly a triumph. “Please...” 

You stare at him. You don’t know what’s worse. The brave face or the pathetic victim. 

“Baby, I feel so bad,” he squeezes and you look down at his large hand. He must be really sick if he’s calling you that. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Walker,” you take his hand and move it off your hip. You lower yourself onto the edge of the couch and bend his arm over his chest. “Your mom’s going to make you some tea.” 

“Mmmm,” he drones and reaches for you again. “Don’t leave.” 

“Sir,” you look down as his touch follows your sleeve to your shoulder then curls down your back, stopping on your waist. You grab his wrist again. “I’ll stay, just... relax.” 

“Yes, baby,” his fingers dip into your soft side, “whatever you want me to do.” He tugs free of your grip and trails along the top of your butt, “just stay.” 

You narrow your eyes and once more stop his stray hand. You cling to it as you direct it away from you, keeping hold of him to keep from another rogue groping. He’s sick for sure. So sick, he must be delusional. 

“Alright, I'm here, Mr. Walker.” 

He opens his eyes and looks at you. You wince at the intensity in his glassy irises. His cheek ticks and he hums again. 

“Mm...” he drawls weakly. “So... soft.” 

[yulin-pop]

i just saw your headcanon of Ace + Deuce w the same crush, but what if reader ended up w another person? (u can choose who you prefer to write)

⤷ ✧ 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭

order 91 | headcanons | Heartslabyul+Malleus|Gender Neutral

❀ NOTE: I chose the most ironic candidates, They never stood a chance against them

Of course they would know you had a crush, they both feigned surprise and begged for names and how and when this crush started. I mean, seriously, who could’ve caught your eye? You wouldn’t tell them which gave them both at least a little hope it could’ve been one of them.

Though as you dropped more hints, they learned they were an upperclassmen.

Well, sucks for them but just because you have a crush doesn’t mean it will be reciprocated— but they were proven wrong.

You would gush about the interactions you shared with your crush to the two, leading to some snooping. But they would never seem to catch you talking to whoever this mysterious yet charming guy was.

That was until you came forward with some news at lunch, with glimmering eyes and flushed cheeks you announced…

➺ Riddle Rosehearts

“Me and Riddle are official.”

Neither of them are happy, far from it. They hide their true opinion of it. Yeah, they would be upset no matter who it was but Riddle? He was a psycho when they first met, caused a lot of trouble for all of them and somehow you caught feelings for him.

But you have a rebuttal towards Ace, he was your first bully when you came to Night Raven but you’re still friends. One can argue he’s still your bully actually.

But then they find it hard to imagine Riddle in all those rants you went on about. Before you and Riddle began dating, you freaked out when you went on a study and brunch date with him.

He wiped your face and leaned in close enough you could feel his breath against your ear. Good for you (I guess) but it’s hard to see Riddle doing that.

Their first reaction is to go to Grim and just unleash every thought they had on the matter at him.

“I mean seriously Riddle? He’s shorter than both of us! Isn’t it crazy since I was always the closest. I walked [Name] to class multiple times but it’s special when Riddle does it. It’s so dumb. I bet they’re both too shy to do anything to the point where they just look into each other’s eyes. That’s so awkward!!” Ace rambled.

“Yeah!” The only thing Deuce could do was agree since Ace was already saying everything on his mind.

I think the first week they’re in disbelief and just go silent whenever you mention Riddle. The second week is when the teasing starts. By teasing they’re actually helping you since when you see Riddle, they push you into him. Which always leads to Riddle catching you and both of you getting flustered.

As much as they did like you, as said by Grim, they need to accept it. Deuce seemed to be the most crushed out of the two but that’s just because Ace hid it behind indifference.

They’re both the people who will always be on your side when you and Riddle have a fight. They don’t just blindly agree though, if you did something wrong they’re going to tell you.

It’s hard to say if they will lose feelings for you after you started dating someone else. I think they won’t ever lose the affection they had for you but the crush and the potential you had together will be pushed to the back of the brain for as long as you were happy with someone else. That’s what mattered more.

➺ Cater Diamond

You shoved your phone screen in their faces and showed a video recording of Cater confessing to you with a poster and flowers. The video ending with you hugging Cater and his arms wrapped around you.

Okay with Cater it’s not as big of a surprise. He wasn’t clueless in dating but not what you would call “experienced”. Looking back at everything you gushed about it did sound like Cater.

All the mentions of selfies and how he would always take pictures of you, remarking how cute and photogenic you were. It checked out seeing how often he posted you in the past few weeks, they’re kinda mad they didn’t realize it sooner. Of course there was a whole post on his MagiCam announcing your relationship. Just to be expected of Cater.

Deuce asked if you were okay with your relationship being out there like that and surprisingly you were, not caring how embarrassing it could be.

Ace is the one who makes you feel embarrassed about it though. He points out and laughs at all the photos Cater posts of you two. And yeah he left some satire hate comments.

The first week is almost unbearable, especially because Cater is pretty open about how his happy-go-lucky mood is because of you.

“After months of constant rizzing and going out on dates, they said yes.” He would proudly proclaim to whoever asked.

Ace accidentally cut him off mid sentence to tell him to shut up and then Deuce has to apologize. Ace is slightly hostile to Cater while Deuce is just short with him but that eventually goes away.

Whenever Cater is anywhere near by. Ace says “Oh look it’s your boyfriend go kiss him!” But before you could react Cater is already walking over and steals you for whatever reason.

➺ Trey Clover

“I managed to confess to him… Trey said yes.”

They were surprised, Trey was a wild card but it’s not like he was the worst out of the upperclassmen. But it all made more sense how when you would come over to Heartslabyul, you’d always go to the kitchen saying you’re hungry and wait around until you found Trey. Not only that you wouldn’t even eat. Same with how you randomly took an interest in baking and started taking lessons from Trey.

Deuce is awkward and Ace is slightly irritated but both congratulate you but Ace mentioned how it was weird you had to confess. Though that led to you going into a strained retell of how you confessed and how Trey reacted and how wonderful it all was.

Trey did seem sort of distant when with you but that really didn’t seem to affect how you were with him. Ace and Deuce got the slight impression Trey was inexperienced. Deuce wasn’t one to judge but Ace was the one to scoff at it.

Trey wouldn’t mention it unless anyone asked, more importantly when you saw him at lunch or during school Ace would try to push you over to him but you insisted you wanted to leave him alone. Why is that? You two didn’t seem to interact much even though you were dating.

Ace and Deuce mentioned this to Grim, just because they were nosey and all. “Seriously you think they’re distant? Man if only you KNEW… [Name] is almost never here because they’re out with Trey and when they are home they’re talking about how much they want Trey to come over.”

So that’s how it was, they’re the more hidden couples but in private they act completely differently. Additionally, that explains why you’ve been texting them less after school. They don’t have a lot to say besides the normal anguish that comes with unrequited love.

-ˋˏ Malleus Draconia

“I think me and Horton are dating?”

Oh yeah that’s pretty normal, just you announcing your possible relationship with the most powerful fae in school and the future king of Briar Valley. Now what’s with that vague wording?! It’s either you are or you aren’t.

They shake you and demand answers out of you. But you can’t answer some of them. The truth is you confessed but you received a vague answer back. “How cute… I admit somehow my heart aches with approval.” That’s all you got back.

Now Ace, you and Deuce began theorizing what it meant. You hoped it to be acceptance but the other two prayed you’d be rejected. You’ve told them everything about this “Horton” which was later to be discovered as Malleus Draconia… Despite the discovery, you still had feelings for him.

They knew who they were up against though. But they weren’t even sure if it was a competition since you’d had an interest in him and he may like you back. But they’ve never been the types to back down.

You raved about it over and over to them, though they would talk down your excitement. You were really happy and it’s not like they don’t want you to be happy but… you’re not even dating so just hold your horses. They tried to make so points like Malleus is the heir to Briar Valley so there’s issue with that and his emotions can cause devastating storms so leaving him on read may or may not tear down Ramshackle.

Regardless, you planned to meet with him again to confirm the status of your relationship and Deuce and Ace turned to Grim once they realized they couldn’t stop you.

They were trying to force Grim to go along with their plan of talking you down from dating Malleus, then to stop you from meeting with him at night by any means necessary but Grim could only do so much.

The next morning, you had small bags under your eyes but were brimming with joy, talking about how you love Horton. Besides how politically crazy your relationship is for Malleus, they’re supportive as long as you’re happy. Nothing changed much besides the fact you always want to talk about your boyfriend.