#like he’s rounding up for a resounding yes

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates pt. 2

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : the BAU team works the case, you get to help word count : 2.3k warning : canon-typical violence, mention of violence and sexual violence A/N : thank you all so much for all the love on part 1 of this !!! I love getting feedback, it's incredibly motivating ! I will probably do a part 3 :)) Also, my cat is sitting next to me as I write this, which I find quite funny

part 1, part 3, part 4

Back at the police station, Spencer had trouble focusing on the case. His mind kept wandering over to you, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing. He was on edge and the entire team could feel it. Hotch pulled him to the side to ask him if he wanted to give you a phone call. Reid refused, but settled on sending you a text, something he never usually did while working. Something he never usually did because he wasn't the biggest fan of technology and also because he couldn't decipher how you were actually feeling without hearing your voice and all the quirks in the way you spoke which gave away your real feelings.

Sent by Dr. Ironed Socks : < Hey. How are you doing? > Sent by You : < Ok, I'm having a tea on the couch. Geoff is in REM sleep on my lap. Thx for checking <3 >

Your text was followed by a pixelly picture of your slightly overweight (Spencer couldn't use that term to describe Geoffrey around you or you'd get upset) orange cat sprawled out on your lap, legs and arms askew, fast asleep. Spencer felt a small wave of relief spread through him. You were okay for now. Geoffrey was looking after you. Later, he'd help you process and give you all the tools necessary to get over such a traumatic event and move on. It was almost as if that was in his job description.

Returning to the room where the BAU team had settled in, Spencer sent Hotch a grateful nod. Hotch moved his lips in what resembled a small smile, Reid couldn't be sure. "Okay," Garcia's voice resounded from the speaker sitting in the middle of the round table, "I've contacted all of Mary Goldman's professors and it turns out she didn't go to class today. Her first class was at 11:30 but she never showed up." "None of the students we interrogated on campus had seen her after 10:15," Emily spoke up. "Spencer's roommate saw her between 10:30 and 11:00," Rossi intervened. "Okay, we'll get her to come in," Hotch affirmed. Spencer's whole body tensed. You had been the last person to see the victim. His mind was so busy reeling, thinking about everything you'd have to go through as the most promising witness, that he missed Morgan's question.

"Reid?" Derek raised an eyebrow. "Uh, sorry, what did you say?" "What was the time of death according to the coroner?" "14:30," Rossi answered. "It was 14:26, actually," corrected Reid. Rossi rolled his eyes. "Okay, so the unsub has his victim between around, let's say 11:15, and 14:26," Rossi shot a pointed look at Spencer, "that's about three hours and 11 minutes. In those three hours, he had time to take the victim someplace where neither of them would be seen or heard, beat and sexually assault her, and finally dump her in smack-dab in front of the university." "He's definitely organised and wants to send a message," Emily thought aloud. "But what is he trying to say? Look at what I can do? You can't stop me?" "Friends," interrupted Garcia, "I'm going to need at least some information before I even try to get anything out of a search. He's taking and leaving them on campus, so I'm guessing he doesn't necessarily need a vehicle. Does he live in the area?" "Yes, he's local or knows the area, he knows these women and he most likely knows the campus. Search for white males, early twenties with a record of violence and sexual misconduct. Cross-reference that with victims of reported abuse and sexual abuse in the last twenty five years. Run background checks for all university staff. Also have a look at similar victims and MOs in this area in the last five years. This may not be his first time," spoke Hotch. "On it, I'll get back to you when I've found something." "Thanks, Garcia."

You'd taken a shower as soon as you'd arrived home. The water was too hot and you'd scrubbed your skin too hard but getting out, you felt a slight bit better. Heavily disliking the way you still felt, you opted for a cup of Earl Grey tea with milk and sugar. Settling on the couch with a steaming cup in your hands, you tucked your legs beneath you and sighed.

Images of Mary's dead body were printed onto the inside of your eyelids. You still couldn't believe it. Your mind reeled as you tried to think of an explanation for it all. Whichever path you followed, you came up empty. You could not comprehend or imagine any reason of taking the life of an innocent person, especially in such a violent way. Luckily for you, you still didn't know the extent of the violence.

A familiar noise pulled you from your dark thoughts. Geoffrey had just jumped down from his cat tree. You watched him stretch and languidly walk over to you. He meowed once before jumping onto the couch, right next to you. You moved your legs so that you were sitting cross-legged and scratched his head. He purred in delight and pressed himself against you. He sniffed at your tea with an unimpressed look before climbing into your lap before letting himself flop down on his side, stretching out his appendages. You cooed as his pink toe-beans stretched too and laid a hand on his belly, scratching gently. The vibrations of his purrs had a calming effect on you. "Are you trying to make me forgive you for biting my ankle the other day when I wouldn't give you any more treats? You know Spencer says you're a bit overweight, I was just trying to get him to stop body-shaming you, my love..."

A few minutes later, you get a text from Spencer. About thirty minutes after that, you get a phone call from him. "Hey, would you mind coming to the station? It turns out you're the last person to have seen the victim."

"I'll do the cognitive interview." "Reid, I don't think that's a good idea." "Look, yes I'm invested, I know that. But I also know her and-" "Reid, no. This is the reason we such have procedures." "But I-" "Reid." Hotchner's tone translated finality. Spencer's shoulders sank in defeat. He had figured that if he had been the one conducting the interview, maybe it would have been less traumatic for you. He hated the idea of not being there for you, with you, during such a trying moment. He bit his bottom lip.

"I'll do it," volunteered Morgan. Reid felt slight comfort at that, Morgan was one of the few people he would entrust his life to. He could entrust you to him for the interview, even if he didn't like it. Hotchner nodded. "Reid, you work with Garcia, focus on finding other victims with the same MO to help build the profile." Reid nodded and went to find his colleagues.

When you entered the police station, it was almost like he could feel your presence. He came to find you straight away, not wanting to leave alone even for a second. "Hey." "Hey." Reid immediately pulled you in for a meaningful embrace, burying his face in your hair. The smell of your shampoo, conditionner and body wash were bliss to his nostrils. They were a promise that you were here, you were safe, you were okay. Morgan watched from afar, a small smile playing at his lips. He knew Reid, and the hug you exchanged was both too hasty and too tight to be anything casual. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry to have to make you come in, but they're going to do- well I wanted to do it but they wouldn't let me, so it's-"

A slightly older, very muscular and gentle man stepped forward, holding out his hand to you. You shook it. "I'm Agent Derek Morgan. I'm one of Spencer's colleagues. I'll be the one conducting the interview, seeing as there's a conflict of interest with you and Spencer. I hope you can understand that." You introduced yourself and looked at Spencer before answering Derek. "Yes, I understand, it's- it's not a problem." "Great, if you could just follow me, please?" You licked your lips and sent Spencer a look, which he answers with a nod of reassurance and a small smile, before following Derek.

"You can close your eyes if it makes you more comfortable." You were sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair. The light above you was ticking at uneven intervals and the room smelt of worry. You didn't know how you could get any more comfortable, but listening to Morgan's even, alto voice helped a bit. "Okay." You closed your eyes. "You told Agent Rossi that you crossed the victim somewhere around quarter to eleven. Is that correct?" "Uh, yes." "Where did you cross her?" "In the main hall." "Where were you going?" "Um, I had just been to the bathroom and I was heading to my Anglo-American Literary Survey class." "Okay, can you describe to me everything about the moment when you crossed the victim? What you saw, what you felt, smelled, heard? Was anything out of the ordinary?" You opened your eyes.

"Um, I'm sorry, but could you stop referring to Mary as the victim, please? She has a name, which is Mary Goldman, and a victim wasn't the only thing she was." Derek was slightly surprised at your comment but understood where you came from. Separating from the name was a way for profilers to gain some distance from the horrendous violence. Personally knowing the victim, you didn't have such luxury. "Of course, I apologise. What did you feel when you crossed Mary? Was anything out of place?"

You nodded in thanks and tried to bring yourself back to that moment. It seemed unreal, how such a small interaction suddenly held such importance. "O-Okay, uh, my hands are still a bit wet. There weren't any towels in the bathroom. I saw her after she saw me and we exchanged a smile. I thought she looked really pretty today, but I didn't tell her. We really don't know each other that well." "Okay, that's good. Was she wearing anything out of habit for her?" "Uhh, no, she was wearing a pleated skirt and a sweater vest. She often dresses like that, I don't know exactly why I thought she looked pretty. I guess she just looked happy. Nothing was out of the ordinary." "Good. Could you hear or smell anything?" "Yeah, well, there were the voices of other people in the hall. I can hear girls laughing. I smell Mary's perfume when she walks past me. She always wears the same one, it's Chanel, Mademoiselle Coco specifically, she told me once at a party."

"Okay, do you know where she's going?" "I- yeah, she's heading for her Behavioural Neuroscience class." "Is she walking in the right direction?" "Uh... Yes, yes, she is. She's not in too much of a hurry, though, she doesn't like the teacher." "So why is she heading there already, then? The class only starts at 11:30." "She likes to reread the material from the previous week before the class starts." "Why doesn't she like the teacher?" "No one does, all he does is read off his slides and he's a jerk when it comes to grading."

Morgan suppressed a smile at your comment. "Okay, thank you so much, Y/N, this was very helpful." "Was it? I didn't feel like-" "Yes, I promise you've just shared some crucial pieces of information." "O-Okay, if you say so."

All eyes were on Morgan as he entered the briefing room. He put his paper coffee cup down on the table and looked at Hotch. "Nothing was out of the ordinary. Mary was wearing habitual clothes and the same perfume she always wore. She was heading to the same class, as she did weekly, at the same time. My guess is this guy knew her routine and did a blitz attack. Y/N gave me the number of Mary's best friend, and according to her, Mary didn't have any guys in her life except for her dad and brother."

Hotchner nodded. Spencer couldn't help but feeling proud of you for being able to go through with the interview and to provide such useful information, too. He'd have to congratulate you when he got home. "Pretty boy and I found three similar victims in the last three years. They weren't connected to this case because they were in another university, just on the other side of the state line. Last year, three girls, university students, were killed, same MO, all disappeared for about three hours before being found dead in front of the university, they attended," Garcia spoke from the speaker. Spencer nodded in agreement to her words. "What did the police find back then?" asked Emily. "Nothing, they- uh, did all they could during the month that the three murders happened but after the third victim, the unsub stopped," Spencer answered. "Stopped?" Emily repeated, brows drawn together in confusion. "Yeah, he just- stopped killing and disappeared. Our best guess is that something triggered him then and that the same thing triggered him now."

"Oh, another thing," Garcia sounded reluctant to share the information she had, "I looked at all the victims' pictures and... well, I'll just send them to you, that'll be easier."

Spencer's blood ran ice cold as he stared at the four girls on the screen. They all looked exactly like you.

Taglist : (all those of you who wanted a part two <3) @princess-ofthe-pages @usuck @theylovemelody @empressgraytea @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @lillianacristina

[dark-moonlust]

Centaur’s Mate

Pairing: Centaur x human reader

Summary: you are traveling the valley when you meet your mate, a handsome and powerful centaur. You get pounded good, and taken back to his home. He’ll keep you forever.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, explicit centaur smut, huge 🍆, magic to fit, lots of come. Don’t like, don’t read please.

The sun hung low in the sky, its shafts casting an amber glow over the wide, rolling plains. The vast valley stretched out in every direction, a feast for the eyes. The view certainly made up for your traveling all these days. It was a breathtaking place, serene and the perfect escape from every day life.

As you ascended a gentle hill, you saw him.

At first, he appeared like a dream, his form shimmering in the distance.

But as you walked closer, you realized it was a centaur—a centaur!

Standing tall and majestic, the fading light cast shadows upon his massive form. His upper body was that of a powerful man, his shoulders wide, his chest broad, his arms muscular and toned. His lower half, however, was that of a sleek, strong horse, its coat a glossy chestnut brown.

Eyes as brown as the coffee bore into yours and took your breath away. There was something in his gaze, in his towering presence and otherworldly beauty that awoke pleasure instead of fear. You should be running for your life yet you remained moveless, captivated.

The centaur approached you, his hooves tapping the ground.

“Little human,” he said, his voice deep and scratchy. “What brings you to my lands?”

“I… I am traveling,” you stammered, head rising to face him. Now that he was closer he was at least two heads taller than you. “Am I trespassing?”

“You are welcome here.” He smiled and that made your pulse quicken.

“Fate has brought you to me at last,” he said, a hand reaching out to caress your cheek. “You look tired, little one. Allow me to offer you some comfort.”

Before you could respond, he cupped your midsection and lifted you, bringing you against him. His hold was potent, his scent musky and woody. His fingers roamed your back, massaging the tender muscles while his scent willed your submission. You felt all warm and tingling, his scent was indeed intoxicating and you felt a strange connection spark between you.

You barely protested when your clothes were tugged away.

One by one, the centaur exposed you to him, his eyes kissing your exposed skin with hunger.

“You are beautiful, little traveller,” he murmured, his eyes gazing at your pert breasts, your soft tummy and between your legs. You rubbed your thighs together, your pussy slick and hot.

“Why? What’s happening?” you whispered, feeling more liquid warmth trickle down your thighs.

“You’re responding to me. As you should, my mate”, he said, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ve waited a long time for you.”

More wetness gathered in your cunt and you winced at the throbbing need that steadily spread all over your body. You leaned into him, whining softly when he kissed your dry mouth, his lips brushing yours languidly. You clutched his soft mane while his tongue slipped into your mouth and mated with yours. The kiss went on and on, and he slowly brought his hand between your thighs, working them open. You mumbled a weak protest against his lips but he swallowed it with his kisses.

His large hand nudged your legs, a calloused finger rubbing your poor needy clit, round and round while you blabbered in his mouth and begged him for more. The thick finger entered your pussy, curving deep inside. Gods, even his finger was as thick as a human dick. Your thoughts scattered when he added another, your juices more than enough to keep him going. Slick sounds resounded as he finger fucked you while kissing you hungrily.

“Yes, that’s right, such a good tight pussy,” he said, curving his long fingers inside you. “Feels good, doesn’t it, little human?”

“Hmn… feels so good.” You arched your back, pleading him to give you more.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered, his voice vibrating through you.

“I trust you.”

“Close your eyes, little mate.”

With a nod, you did as told. You felt him fingering you deep, his finger squelching lewdly. A tingly warmth followed as he stroked you deep but with care, murmuring under his breath, the words foreign to your ears. You winced a little and guessed he had added another finger.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered, his voice strained.

You blinked, welcoming the view of his beautiful face and then gazed down at where his fingers parted your pussy. Your eyes widened! You had taken four of his fingers inside you, your lips stretched wide and trickling slick juices. Desire pulsed, you saw him pull them out, a wet squelch echoing before he thrust them back in with ease.

“You did something, didn’t you?”

“Centaur magic.” He kissed your forehead. “I’d never put my mate in danger.”

You smiled. He was so sweet, while finger fucking you into oblivion.

“You’ll take my cock deep inside you, won’t you, love?” he drawled, his free hand pinching a tight pink nipple.

“Ahnnn yesssss, I’ll try.”

He groaned, deep and low as he lifted you and pumped his fingers even deeper. Your feet left the ground and wrapped around his horse shoulders. You clutched his strong arms for stability while he stroked your sensitive walls and kissed you. You came with a loud cry, wiggling your waist to ride his fingers deeper and faster. You felt him smile against your skin and gently, he set you on your feet.

Growling low, he moved you, his hooves pounding steadily on the ground. Strong human hands guided you to stand against a huge boulder, your feet firmly on the ground, palms flat against the stone. Positioning his great horse body behind you, he stretched as far as he could go, his front hooves settling way above your head. He bent a little to adjust your height difference, supporting his weight on his back hooves.

You shivered at the feel of someone so huge against your back. You looked back and down, your eyes widening at the cock rising from under his horse belly. It was at least the size of five of his fingers. The massive length jutted upwards, the flared head leaking with pre-cum— lots of it. His balls were huge and swollen, hanging heavily from between his horse legs. You licked your lips, wondering just how you’d feel taking that monster dick inside you.

"I can’t," you muttered, breathless. “Too big.”

“You can, little mate,” he said as his swollen cock rubbed against your pussy. “You took my fingers, you were made for me.”

Heat curled down your spine at what you were about to do. But the Centaur seemed to sense your worry, so he shifted a little just so he could slide his fingers over your leaking cunt.

“Drenched and ready,” he said huskily. “My magic protects your pretty pink cunt. Do not fear.”

“O… okay. Be gentle?”

“Always, my love.”

You held your breath when you felt his cock sliding across your entrance, your pussy hot and slick. His shaft pressed closer against you, his smell surrounding you; musky animal and masculine.

Gently, he entered you, the cockhead invading the tight slit of your pussy. You inhaled sharply, your jaw slackening as you felt him penetrate you, his powerful body invading your smaller one. The sensation was unbelievable, overwhelming. You expected to feel pain but only pleasure came. You gasped when he buried himself to the hilt.

You’d taken a massive centaur cock. You felt it throb inside you, causing your belly to puff up. The centaur turned even harder at the sight of your stomach and you hissed as the head of his cock kissed your cervix.

"Tight," he groaned. “My little mate with her perfect little cunny.”

“Wow,” you panted, feeling so stretched and full.

He fucked you slowly at first, his cock drawing out of your depths frothing with your juices. You were so wet and despite the extreme tightness, that allowed him to fuck you in steady surges. His pace soon picked up, his horse body moving against you, leaving you no choice but to take his invasion.

He buried himself over and over while his heavy balls bounced and hit your clit. Eyes shutting, you came hard around him, sweet climax rolling through you. He pumped even harder, growling like the beast he was, while you mewled and rocked with the power of his horse hips. With a defeating roar, he spurted inside you, his cock pulsing so strongly that you came again with violent aftershocks.

Load after load of cum exploded inside you, it was too much. It filled your belly, turned it even more round and trickled down your shaking legs. Sleepy and pleasantly fucked, you barely noticed as he turned you and strapped you to his body, securing you with strong but soft bindings. The hold on you was sturdy but didn’t hurt you at all. His cock was buried deep inside you, your cheeks cradled against his belly.

“I will take you to my home now, little mate,” he said fondly. “You will be safe with me, cherished, loved and well-fucked forever.”

[suntoru]

─ ✰ COUNTDOWN TO YOUR LOVE!!

✧˚ · . 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 most definitely does not have a crush on his best friend. so what’s this feeling when somebody else is planning on confessing to you?

— warnings: oblivious gojo af, fluff, mild violence, might be ooc, please be nice i have only watched like the first episode of jjk, idk what else

— author’s note: is it shittily written? yes. but is it finished? also yes. HAPPY NEW YEAR MY LOVES &lt;;33

“guys, guys, brace yourself for the tea i have!! nanamin is gonna confess to y/n tonight at the new years party!!”

“huh?! seriously?” nobara gasps theatrically, her eyes widening in interest. she springs up from the couch, tail -imaginary or not-wagging in anticipation as she eagerly leans in for the juicy gossip.

*chokes* "...what?" gojo gags on his tea, coughing violently. he's surely joking. there's no way. "y/n, as in like, my best friend, y/n?"

“i know, right? i was surprised too!! after all, i was sure mister nanami was more interested in marrying his paperwork than finding real love, but that’s what i heard!” yuji spills, enthusiasm radiating from every word.

"that's... great." gojo manages to mutter, and for once, he has nothing ese to say.

“it’s about time, he’s pushing thirty, and he’s still single… as the youngsters say, he has… L rizz.” nobara laughs boisterously with her hands on her hips, thoroughly entertained by her own joke. meanwhile, yuji cocks his head in confusion at his friend's delusions. …is she going senile?

“well, aren’t you also single…?”

'hush, yuji! the point is, there's gonna be some spicy drama!" nobara squeals, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "we're talking romance unraveling like a well-scripted k-drama!! get ready for some flashy love confessions, and hopefully, a heart-fluttering kiss scene!!"

11: 56 PM

fuck, why can't i focus? gojo groans as he loses yet another round of mario kart to nobara. the image of you lingers in his mind from earlier that day, engaged in conversation with the blonde. he can't ignore the subtle indications; your flustered demeanor, a slight tint of pink on your cheeks, your refusal to make eye contact. clear signs of a crush. you surely like him back, there's no denying it.

and he should be happy for his friend— should be, but all he can feel is an unexplainable tightness that grips his chest, like a weight he can't shake off. he can't quite put a pin on it, it's an unknown emotion, but it all feels ugly nonetheless. it must have been something he ate earlier. ...yeah, that's it.

as he tries to ignore the overwhemling feeling of dispair, his attention flickers to the lively scene, and there you are, donning one of those goofy 2024 glasses that make your whole demeanor even more endearing. a lopsided smile graces your face as you engage in cheerful banter with megumi, and just like that, a fuzzy feeling envelops him, coaxing a smile to creep up on his face involuntarily. but before he can revel in the moment, a sudden flick on his forehead disrupts his thoughts.

"hey— ow, what was that for?" he whines, rubbing his forehead and directing a puzzled gaze towards utahime.

"you're so dense." she huffs in annoyance, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes at his apparent obliviousness. he looks up at her, confusion etched across his features.

"i- huh? whaddya mean by that?" he stares at her in confusion. utahime sighs in exasperation, irritation visible. "how stupid are you? do i have to spell it out for you? you. like. y/n." the words hang in the air. ...i ... like... y/n...?

and then it hits him like a brick wall. the reason behind stinging feeling in his chest. you being with nanami meant no more midnight snack runs, no more drunken gossip sessions, no more attempts to fluster you. those simple pleasures, the serotonin rush sparked by your mere smile, threaten to slip away.

the thought of losing you; his best friend, his one and only, shakes him to the bottom of his core. his heart, like a drum, pounds in his chest, a resounding beat of denial and awakening. ...no way... he couldn't... does he...?

could he truly say that the way he always seems to gravitate towards you in group gatherings, the way his eyes subconsciously find their way towards yours, the sudden surge of warmth he gets when you praise him was all truly platonic? perhaps he didn't acknowledge it before, but his heart has long declared what he only now comprehends: he loves you. he loves you.

he's loved you ever since you were five and he was seven, when you announced proudly to everyone that you were now his best friend for life. he's loved you when you were eleven and he was thirteen, when you sought refuge in his arms, tears streaming down your face because of a bully. he's loved you when you were eighteen and he was twenty, hung up on some random jerk who didn't even treat you right.

his eyes dart over to where nanami is, pacing closer towards you— he's going to lose everything if he doesn't move.

he can't lose you.

so he runs across the large room, dashing towards you, heaving and huffing. "FIVE!" everybody begins to chant. "gojo?" you good? need something?" "FOUR!" your voice is soft and sweet, like a honeyed daydream, etched with concern. how could he not have realized, it was you all along? it was always going to be you. "THREE!" "hey." he says breathlessly. "yeah?" you mumble, curious as to what he was about to say next. "TWO!" "slap me if you hate it." "hate what?" "ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!"

he pulls you towards him, using both hands to grab your face, planting a passionate on your plush lips, your eyes widening as everybody else cheers knowingly.

bonus!! earlier:

"you like him. gojo."

nanami simply states, a ghost of a smile on his lips. you feel your face heat up. how did he know? was it that obvious? that's so embarrassing... oh my god. you can't look him in the eye, you just want to shrivel up and disappear in the ground... "you're both so stupidly oblivious." he mutters under his breath.

©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[facioleeknow]

The art of pleasure ch. 4

Charm ° Hwang Hyunjin

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It's only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: College AU, smut 18+ ONLY WC: 1.8k+

Warnings: fraternity skz. inexperienced reader, experienced hyunjin, unprotected sex, clit play, creampie, hyunjin likes hairy pussy, first time, virginity loss

The art of pleasure masterlist

A week after your little encounter with Changbin, you were still thinking about him. His charm was unmatched, no man had ever treated you and made you feel like a woman as much as Changbin. The way his body had reacted to you, to your touch, to your mouth, had made you feel like the most powerful person in the world. His soft loving eyes had made you feel safe and appreciated.

Everyday your fingers hovered over his contact, you yearned to call him, to hear his voice, feel his hands in your hair and his mouth on yours. You had never wanted a second date so badly in your entire life.

Unknown number:

Good Morning, it’s Hyunjinnie<3

I’d like to take you out this weekend if you’re free <3

The hearts made you smile, Hyunjin was as much a lover boy as Chan had said. A frown quickly subsided, you could not keep thinking about Changbin while being with another guy, it wouldn’t have been fair to him. And frankly speaking, you were hellbent on enjoying to the fullest this new date; Hyunjin was gorgeous and famously picky with his hookups, being chosen almost felt like an honor and you wanted the opportunity to brag about it.

The number you called was so familiar that it was engraved in your memory and even under hypnosis you wouldn’t have been able to forget it.

“Hello??”

“Channie, I need your help!”

“What-what is going on, baby?” Chan has never sounded that out of breath in his entire life.

“Baby? Are you talking to a girl? Do you have a girlfriend?” a muffled female voice resounded on the other side of the phone. Chan tsked, you had never heard him do that, with you he was nothing but extremely polite. 

“You can go, I’ll call you.” If your phone hadn’t displayed Chan’s contact name, you would’ve thought you had  called the wrong number. A chill ran down your spine at his icy cold tone. Maybe the stories about him being a fuckboy were true after all…

“Chan? Were you with a girl?”

“Don’t worry about it baby,” he mumbled into the phone. He sounded like a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar, he knew what you were thinking and he was embarrassed that you had to witness that side of him.

“Don’t worry? Were you fucking Chan?” The conversation was getting more and more absurd with each passing second and the tension and embarrassment was palpable even if you were in two different places.

“Yes?”

“Why the hell would you answer your phone, then?”

“Baby please, don’t push it! Just tell me what you need,” he whined. You could picture his face in your head with accuracy, lower lip slightly pushed out and sparkly round eyes.

“Alright,” you sighed, you could never resist him when he got like that, “I have a problem with our lessons, are you free to talk?”

“I’m sorry, I’m a little busy these days, baby. Can we hang out this weekend?”

“I have a lesson with Hyunjin this weekend, Channie.”

“That’s perfect! I’ll see you saturday!” 

He hung up without even waiting for your answer. Damn fuckboy.

Laying on Chan’s bed felt weird and gross after the call from a couple of days earlier, even worse knowing that your friend might have finished what he had started.

“What’s with the face?” his voice soft and muffled by the skin of your neck against which Chan’s face was smushed.

“Just wondering if I’m laying down on crusted jizz,” you teased, half serious half joking.

“Baby!” he whined again, his feet kicked lightly against your legs.

“Alright, alright, you big baby, now stop kicking me!”

“What did you want to talk about anyway?” Chan cuddled even more into you and started nosing at the spot behind your ear. Suddenly the room was starting to feel hot.

“I can’t stop thinking about Changbin, the way he made me feel…I’ve never felt that way before.”

Chan scoffed and suddenly detached himself from you. The atmosphere in the room shifted in a matter of seconds, from warm and friendly to icy. 

“You can always go on a date with Changbin after the lessons, focus on what’s in front of you, not behind.” Even if he was irked, his advice was always on point.

“And you’re worried about Hyunjin right?”

“Yes, it wouldn’t be right to him..” your best friend’s attitude had completely changed and suddenly you felt judged. Chan sighed.

“Thank you Channie, are you sure you’re ok-”

The sudden slam of the door against the wall made you and your friend jump in your spots.

“Hyung, how do I look? Good enough for Y/N?”

Hyunjin stood at the door in all of his glory; he wore baggy black pants, a tank top and a red cardigan. He looked delectable.

“Y/N, I was about to come get you,” his smile was the brightest you had ever seen and made him even prettier if that was even possible. You got up quickly.

“You should go,” Chan wasn’t even looking at you as he bid you goodbye. You were conflicted, leaving would mean things would stay weird with Chan but you were starting to feel quite horny and your vagina was starting to do the thinking instead of your brain.

Your indecisiveness and the weird atmosphere in the room were broken when Hyunjin took your hand and gently dragged you outside of the room.

“Bye Channie,” you whispered.

Hyunjin’s car was clean and tidy, it perfectly embodied his lover boy persona. He drove steady, with confidence; his right hand delicately caressed your thigh over your skirt, he didn’t make any move to raise the hem of your clothing to touch the rest of you. You were getting impatient, you wanted his hands on you. Wetness seeped into the cotton of your panties; he was so hot and riling you up so effortlessly that you almost hated him…almost. 

Suddenly his index finger ventured past the fabric of your skirt and came in contact with your skin. An electric feeling spread from his touch through your entire body, your pussy pulsed in response. God you were so pathetic and so wet. 

Right when you were debating whether to jump him or not, the car came to a stop.

“We’re here, pretty,” Hyunjin murmured softly as not to break the sacred silence that was in the car. 

The view in front of you was breathtaking. The lights of the town shone under you forming tiny little dots on the ground. Above the night sky presented itself in all of its glory, you had never seen so many stars in your entire life.

“What do you think? Do you like it?” Hyunjin was behind you, his hand ghosted over your waist.

“I love it, it’s really pretty.”

“You’re really pretty,” his breath fanned against your neck, his whole front was pressed against your body and you could feel every single part of him.

“Hyunjin, please touch me, I can’t wait anymore,” you whined. In a heartbeat Hyunjin spun you around, like he was waiting for your words, and his lips were on yours. The kisses were soft, slow and passionate, his hands were confident in their ministrations as they moved across your body. Hyunjin was an exceptional kisser, the best one so far and you were happy you decided to stop thinking about Changbin and just enjoy the moment. 

So immersed in the feeling of his soft lips you didn’t notice his hand sneaking under your skirt and inside your panties. The rhythmic movement of his fingers on your clit elicited a gasp from you, Hyunjin smiled.

“You don’t shave?” the boy moaned. You froze in your spot, Minho hadn’t minded so you thought Hyunjin wouldn’t either.

“God, baby, that’s so hot, I need to have you,” your lover moaned out before you could answer. It was one of the most sensual sounds you had ever heard.

Your kisses got deeper and more sensual, the more the tension rose the more Hyunjin slowed down until all of his movements became languid and intense. His hand in your panties stroked your sensitive bud gently, giving you enough stimulation to curl your toes but not enough to make you cum.

“Lay down, pretty,” Hyunjin gently pushed you back towards the blanket he laid down while you were admiring the view and you complied, tonight you had no desire to disobey him. Above you, he shook off his cardigan showing off his toned arms and then slowly pulled down his pants and boxers. He smirked, he was giving you a show. His cock sprung free from the confinement of his underwear and slapped against his stomach, he was long and veiny. You wanted him in your mouth but maybe another time.

“Are you feeling okay?” the boy laid down on you, your bodies pressed together, his cock against your clothed pussy.

“I'm gonna die if I don't feel you inside me, Hyunjin.” He chuckled at your impatience, but his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties and he dragged them down quickly. He was as affected and impatient as you.

“Are you ready?” The tip of his cock prodded against your entrance and, after your nod of approval, breeched you. It was a weird sensation, an intrusion that wasn't purely unwelcomed, but Hyunjin soothed the discomfort immediately by pressing his thumb against your throbbing clit making you keen out loud. 

“God, you're so warm,” he grunted against your neck. His strokes were slow and powerful, he was sensual even when fucking with no feeling attached. The tip of his cock hit a spot deep within you that made you see stars and bite down on your lip with every stroke.

“Are you close, beautiful? I can't last long, you're too warm and wet,” he moaned and panted inside your ear. His thumb sped up the circles on your swollen clit and you cried out in pleasure. This was only your first time but you were already hooked on this feeling, or maybe Hyunjin just knew what he was doing.

“Where do you want it?”

“Inside, please.”

His thrusts became harsher and harsher, your tits bounced everytime his pelvis came in contact with your ass and thighs. Moans and pants came out of his lips, he wasn't scared to be vocal and you loved it. A long, strangled whimper sounded in your ear and suddenly hot spurts of cum spilled inside you. The feeling of his release was the last thing that took you to get over the edge. Your body shook in pleasure and your thighs tightened around Hyujin’s waist.

You figured you almost passed out because when you came to, Hyunjin was laying on his back and you on top of him, your thighs still locked around him.

“Was it good enough for a first time?” His hand lightly scratched your scalp.

“It was great, thank you Hyunjin.”

A comfortable silence fell between you, the only thing that could be heard was yours and Hyunjins breathing and heartbeats.

“I'd like to paint you next time, you have a really pretty pussy.” You poked his side and he giggled.

“You haven't seen it.”

“But I felt it. Will you let me?”

“Maybe next time.”

@kflixnet

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

WOW I can't believe you opened them! I adore you! Please Tumblr lacks Krueger fanfic, can you write something NSFW enemies to lovers, where he and the reader joined Chimera at the same time and are at "war" with each other mainly because reader is an ass, she likes to annoys Krueger by constantly reminds him that she is younger (like four/five years, no more) than him and more skilled as a soldier and sniper making Krueger get on his nerves? Sorry for my wtriting, english is not my language and i'm not good at it, i hope i was clear enough and i also hope i formulated the right question without violating your requests. Thank you and good job at the flower shop!

—Ain't Giving Up My Pride

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [You get on his nerves, partially because you want to. But what happens when he finally snaps?] ❞

You have to wonder if you expected to be ass-up and face-down getting fucked in the back of a storage room today, and you have to admit, the answer is most likely a resounding negative. 

But war is always interesting.

Krueger and yourself had a little…thing…going on. Call it what you will—a rivalry, a large annoyance, whichever word better fits the state of twin crashing atoms constantly waiting to prove something to the other. To you, any real satisfaction can only be drawn by the way his shrouded head would look your way with obvious scorn—imagining a sneer to his lips as you walked past and smirked, loudly talking about your success at the firing range. 

About beating the top mark yet again. Krueger. 

“Interesting, hm?” He grunts to you now, belt jingling as you hide your burning face into your arm; pelvic bones getting repeatedly pushed into the crate. “Little winner, yes? Willing to bet she only feels good when she gets filled up by my cock.”

You open your mouth to speak, but his hands on your hips drive them backward and forward, skin smacking rapidly as your speech is reduced to garbled whines and loud moans. It was pathetic how fast he was already working you to that point—pussy spasming and legs kept open by Krueger’s hands. 

“Hm?” The man leans in close, his fully-geared chest stapling itself to your spine. “What was that?”

“F-fuck,” you blink quickly. 

He chuckles, covered face hidden from you. “That is what I—”

“Fuck better than you shoot,” you gasp, hips instinctually meeting his thrusts as your toes curl, pants at your feet, and a stain of fluids dripping down to them. The man falters, pace stuttering as you shove yourself back into him with a shiver down your vertebrae. 

His throat releases a low growl moments later, hand going to the back of your neck as you smirk. But any chuckle is lost as you’re pulled by the collar of your shirt backward, getting kept to Krueger’s front as the prodding ruthlessness of his member drives itself home again and again.

You gasp loudly, eyes snapping back and mouth releasing tight moans before a hand covers your lips, a low snarl in your scalp. 

“You always have such a mouth, Vögelchen,” he grunts, feeling the effect of your tight cunt himself as he draws closer to his finish—what you did to him was criminal; no one should make him act like this, like a heathen in the back rooms seeking a carnal release into your womb. “How do I fix this, then?” 

You pant from behind his hand, letting him play with you like a doll because, damn if this wasn’t the best sex you’d ever had. 

“Ah,” he replies to himself, that smooth voice right in your ear as he moves a hand down to play with your clit. You tense up, noises of pleasure heard from behind the tight press of his grip. “Yes, that’s it.” Your release snaps through you like a storm—not even a proper build-up before it shatters what little of your mind is left at this point. Not once did Krueger’s hips slow or stop, pushing you through it until you were whining like a dog, another round started just like that even as the man rides his own high, spilling into you.

The wet splatter of cum leaks to the floor as you’re back facing the crate, eyes rolling back into your head and body shaking with unchecked pleasure.  A shuddering growl is right in your ear, a heavy body rocking against your spine.

“I have to fuck it out of you.”

[ireadwithmyears]

even if it’s handcuffed, I’m leaving here with you.

Pairing: Commander Fox/fem Reader

Word count: 4.7K

Tags/warnings, smut (18+: (miners DNI) dumb decisions, they turn out alright, slight exhibitionism (they fuck in the back of 79’s and Fox enjoys the idea of being overheard), oral (F receiving), fingering, light bondage, spanking, but like only one, unprotected P in V sex, dom/sub elements, biting/marking (it’s Fox, what do you expect)

Summary: Fox hasn’t been giving you the attention you’ve been craving. The way in which you go about fixing that is highly questionable, but ultimately, a resounding success.

Note: yes, this was 100% inspired by a specific lyric in I’mgonnagetyoubac by Taylor Swift, referred to in the title. I heard it, went Fox bby c’mere I need to do something with this, and this is the end result, which I hope is enjoyable. Also, do these characters have communication issues that they probably should acknowledge and talk through? Probably. Are we not going to acknowledge any of that here for the sake of✨minimal plot✨ yes.

“This, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, is one of the stupidest ideas you’ve ever had.”

To be fair, your best friend is saying this all while she downs a shot, barely containing her smirk behind the glass. She’s already given her rather enthusiastic consent to this idea that she has just declared is stupid

Because that’s what best friends do. 

Look, you have to agree, the idea sounds completely outlandish and lacks any sound logic whatsoever, not to mention, there’s no guarantee that it’ll even work. But, lounging around a table at a bar on Coruscant’s Clubbing scene, and with your ride or die best friend perched across from you to egg on your delusions, it starts to sound not as crazy as it had initially sounded when you had first spoke the words aloud.

In theory, the idea is straightforward and simple enough. 

Start a fight at the clone bar while Fox is on duty so that you can actually get him alone for more than two minutes.

You’re aware, somewhere in the back of your mind, that these are rather drastic measures for you to take just to get your boyfriend to notice you. But, with your rationalizing, alcohol emboldening you, and your friends immediate agreement to help without hesitation, this idea starts to seem not only reasonable, but solid.

Listen, if you were able to be a normal, sensible couple, and you could just do something like, you know, talk to Fox, you would.

The problem is, though, that Fox has been making that very difficult.

Being the marshal commander of the Coruscant guard carries a lot of weight and responsibilities, you get that. You really, really do. But, when he rarely makes it home most nights because he’s fallen asleep at his desk from overworking himself, and you can count the amount of times he’s touched you over the past two weeks on one hand, you’re starting to go a little bit insane.

Okay, so, you’re horny and so desperate for his attention that you’re willing to do something completely unreasonable, not to mention a little bit illegal, to get it. So what.

*

The plan, for all of its complete lack of sense and sound judgment, goes a little too perfectly.

The guard often sends some of their own out on patrols during 79’s busiest nights to keep order and ensure that there are no inter-battalion style brawls. 

You have Fox’s schedule memorized. So, you wait until you know he’s set to make his rounds, pick a table that is clearly within his eyeline, and then, minutes after he shows up, give your friend the subtle signal.

It starts with raised voices, shouted accusations and glaring until you know you’ve peaked his interest. Even through the tint of his visor, you can practically feel his eyes on you from across the room. 

Once you’re sure his eyes are securely glued on you, you allow high school drama and improv skills to take over, letting the fight escalate into something physical.

It’s hard, knowing that your friend is about to take the brunt of this for you, and your equal parts appreciative, and a little bit terrified, that she’s letting you launch yourself at her. But, you think to console yourself, you had practised this. How to make it look convincing, just good enough that it draws the attention of the cori’s, while also inflicting minimal damage because due to the fact that you don’t want your friend to get in heat for this too, making yourself the clear instigator, she’s only dodging, refusing to hit back.

When the thud of boots and the crackle of voices through helmet speakers come, barking gruff orders to break it up, you’re more than a little relieved. 

Even with his bucket still on, it’s easy for you to identify that it’s him. Him who pulls you off of her, none too gently. Him, whose rough, gloved fingers enclose around your wrists, smoothly pinning them behind your back before you can even blink and fuck, why was that so hot? Him, who, for a brief moment, you feel the cold and unforgiving plastoid of his chest plate digging as he presses flush against you, voice a low, displeased rumble as he addresses you, voice too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“You know, princess,” he mutters darkly, giving your wrists a squeeze. “If you wanted tonight to end with me locking binders around those pretty wrists of yours, there was no need to go to all of this trouble.”

He knew. 

Somehow, he’s figured out exactly what you were doing within seconds and for some reason, this only intensifies the thrill that runs through your body and causes your thighs to clench.

You’re not given time to ruminate on this, though, barely catch the subtle wink that your friend gives you before another member of the guard blocks your view of her as he kneels down to check on her. Fox, reflexes lightning fast, spins you around and immediately begins to usher you towards the back of the establishment, giving the other guard member on duty, you think it might be Thorn, a curt nod to acknowledge that he can handle this on his own.

Your led away to the sounds of low whistles, and many identical sets of brown eyes peering at you interestedly as Fox’s brothers stare at you when you pass by their tables.

Your face, at this point, has the decency to flush with oncoming embarrassment as they watch Fox leading you away.

No time for regrets now, you think to yourself as Fox reaches around you, still keeping your wrists firmly in one hand as he unlocks the door to an out-of-the-way office, frequently used to detain clones who start fights in the bar.

For better or for worse , you have captured his full, undivided attention for the night. 

now, you think, it’s only a matter of what he’s going to do about it.

*

“You know,” he muses, arms expertly caging you in and crowding you against the office wall, “if you’re going to fake a fight to get my attention, you could at least have picked an accomplice who I haven’t already met, and who I am perfectly aware you are on good terms with.”

“How would you know?” You ask, still slightly breathless as his amber eyes catch yours in the dim light, levelling you with a look. “A lot could change in the two weeks that I’ve barely seen you.” 

“Is that what this is about?” He asks, voice low and somehow too smooth and even, tilting his head to the side. “That explains why she made the effort to do this.” 

He doesn’t back down, doesn’t even look away in any semblance of guilt, which is infuriating. You’re about to tell him so when you’re cut off abruptly, words dissolving into nothing but a short gasp as his head lowers, lips, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth along the much too exposed skin of one of your breasts.

You blink, looking down at yourself, startled. It appears that whilst your friend was engaged in skirmishing with you, she had managed to tactfully pull open a few buttons from your shirt, splitting it just so that one of your breasts is tantalizingly exposed, nipple barely covered by the remaining fabric.

It’s fabric that is quickly shoved to the side as Fox, eyes never leaving yours as he does, takes your nipple into his mouth, tongue rolling over the bud, encouraging it to harden between warm lips.

“It’s almost like this was... planned,” he muses, accentuating his words with a sharp pinch as he tweaks your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, smirking at the way you jolt with surprise. His breath ghosts along the column of your throat as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Wasn’t it, cyar’ika.”

You’re prevented from answering when his teeth nip at your earlobe, causing any words you had in your mind to fall away, giving way to a shiver as you arch into him. A thrill runs through your body, and a pleasant hum has replaced the void where your thoughts used to be. If you had the sense to be embarrassed about how easy it was for him to get you like this, you would be. But right now, pushed up against the wall with him looming over you, it takes all you have to reach for him, fingers trying to find perch’s between his armour plating.

“Fox,” you let out a whine, tilting your head up to look at him pleadingly as you press yourself against him.

“Uh uh,” he chides, quickly extricating your hands. “These stay here,” he orders, swiftly pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. “If you know what’s good for you,” he continues darkly.

“A and what if I don’t?” You try to challenge, but your voice comes out in more of a squeak, wobbling slightly, as his fingers trail down your sides, just teasing at the skin beneath your shirt.

He chuckles, the sound a husky, dangerous rumble in his throat. Abruptly, he drops to his knees in front of you, pulling both your skirt and panties down with him in one harsh tug. They pool around your feet on the floor.

“Oh, meshla,” he coos at you, voice dripping with mock sincerity as one gloved fingertip, tantalizingly featherlight, sweeps through your already wet folds, only grazing over your clit enough to make your hips stutter in surprise before he pulls away. 

“Trust me, by the time I’m done with you, you will.”

Your ability to form a quick witted retort to that is greatly impeded, and ultimately foiled, probably intentionally, by Fox lifting one of your legs, manoeuvring it so it drapes over the curve of one of those broad, imposing shoulders of his. 

Before you’re given time to react to this sudden shift of balance, he’s leaning forward, his impatience evident in the way he roughly holds your thighs apart as he does. Your clit is suckled into his mouth with an almost unadulterated greed as it’s pulled between his lips, tongue barely fluttering over it before your hips jolt, and the sound that manages to escape you, half in surprise, half a needy whine before you manage to check yourself, remembering where, exactly, he’s doing this to you, sounds just about as uncontrolled as his actions are.

He pulls back, only to give you a deceptively teasing smirk as he tugs off his gloves. “What’s the matter, cyar?” He almost purrs, a now gloveless finger slowly teasing at your entrance, eyes fixated on how you clench around nothing. “Got nothing to say now?” 

He evidently finds his ability to have you this riled up with only a few touches amusing, because he’s again leaning forward before you can respond. A series of gentle kitten licks targeted at your clit, as his finger slowly presses into your heat has you forgetting about that fact quickly, the only sound escaping your lips being that of a strangled gasp-moan.

With the way his lips quirk and he lets out a small hum of satisfaction, the vibrations of which run through your body like a shockwave that leaves you breathless, it’s evident that this is exactly the way he wants you, squirming and desperate.

“Fox, I, we can’t do this here ohh.”

You lose track of the point you were trying to make with the smallest movement of his finger, almost gentle as it curls inside you, just brushing over your G spot, causing you to start stammering.

“Mm, why’s that, princess?” He asks, pulling out his finger only so that he can insistently begin to open you up with a second. “I don’t really think you’re in the position to be making demands like that, hm?”

Teeth nipping at that sensitive spot high on your inner thigh silences your retort. “So pretty,” he breathes, almost to himself as his tongue lazily soothes over the mark he’s made, before he’s back on your clit, lips, tongue, and fingers that curl and press and thrust all working to bring you up and straight to the edge.

And take you to the edge, he does. Within minutes that feel like seconds, he has you arching your back, pushing your hips to meet the delicious, constant thrust of his fingers and the targeted, precise teasing of his tongue and lips against your already sensitive clit, breathless begging and pleading because you’re just, you need, you’re almost.

There’s an audible clap as you desperately press your hand against your mouth, trying to silence the high-pitched, feverish whimper that’s fighting to escape your lips because there, right there, rightfuckingthereyoujust...

Then he’s pulling away, releasing your clit with an obscene sounding wet pop as he rises to his feet, calm and totally unfazed in the face of your obvious frustrated desperation, hips still vainly moving in an attempt to find something that’s no longer there. He looks down at you, watching with evident amusement in his eyes as you lose the high that he’s given you, languidly taking the time to idly suck on his fingers, still slick with your arousal as he waits.

He’s patient, simply staring down at your quivering form as he holds you within his scrutiny, deliberately drawing out the silence until the tension has grown thick, and it starts to make you feel disquieted, nervous, almost like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have and you’re now waiting for him to pronounce your punishment.

Only then, only once he sees the realization dawn on your face and your eyes widen slightly does he reach out, lightly tracing one finger over the back of your hand.

Your hand that he told you to stay above your head on the wall. 

Your hand that is, right now, still pressed firmly against your half open mouth. 

“I thought I told you,” he muses casually, fingers delicately wrapping around your wrist and pulling it away from your lips, “to keep these where I put them.”

You swallow, but look up at him with a falsely innocent expression because fuck it, you’re already out of the frying pan, might as well just jump headfirst into the fire.

“Well, technically you told me to do that only if I knew what was good for me, so... guess I don’t,” you say with a shrug, flashing him a smirk.

“Hm,” he huffs, pondering as he continues to hold your wrist, giving it a squeeze in warning. “So it appears you don’t.”

Within seconds, he’s smoothly spun you around, and pulled both of your wrists behind your back, with a speed that’s so succinct that you don’t even comprehend what’s happening until the heavy, cold weight of the binders settles against your skin, locking your wrists in place with a smooth, resounding click.

Oh.

A hand on your back gently nudges you forward and without question, you begin to walk, only pausing when he’s directed you to stand in front of a desk, the height of which reaches just above your waist. He urges you down, hand pressing in between your shoulder blades until you’re bent over, skin flush against the cool wood. 

You jump when his voice appears, low and inches away from your ear as he leans over you, hands delicately scheming down your sides as he speaks.

“Oh, meshla, you misunderstand me,” he purrs, and he can’t resist gently nipping at your earlobe just to hear the small noise of surprise that escapes you and feel the way your body shivers beneath him. 

You hear him settle behind you, armoured knees hitting the ground with a dull thump as his hands, warm and rough, ease your thighs apart, holding them wide.

Fingers lazily circle you’re already swollen clit as he continues. “You can cum, pretty girl. In fact, I want you to cum, and I want everyone outside to be able to hear all those pretty sounds you make when you do it.”

Outside, a muffled round of drunken cheering from several of his vode seems to punctuate his demand, causing your heart to quicken, and before you’re given time to really think about it, he’s opening you further, diving back in with his lips and tongue as his hands continue to hold your thighs apart.

For a moment, it’s just hot, heavy breaths, warm air tickling and brushing against your incredibly sensitive clit, the barest sensation and the heat enough to pull a breathless “mmm” from your lips, hips desperately pushing back against his waiting mouth. 

You both know that you’re not going to last long, so Fox takes time to relish each moment he spends in between your thighs, every movement of his tongue and lips deliberate and controlled. The firm muscle of the flat of his tongue pressing against you is neither frantic nor fast, but it urges and demands with an almost maddening precision.  The slightest role of his tongue over the bud as his lips pull you into his mouth nearly does you in, turning small, gasping whimpers into “oh please I fuck I please,” without any regard to the level of your voice.

Fox hums a response, and after that, you’re done, tipped over the edge by just the slightest nudge as if you had been clinging to it by your fingertips, and were now free falling.

You only come back to yourself when you feel fingernails raking up your trembling thighs, and Fox’s low, husky voice as he stares up at you.

“Mm, good,” he murmurs, running a finger through your sensitive folds just to watch you tremor.

He rises to his feet, and you’re not sure what you’re expecting him to do, if anything. Your mind is so addled by your orgasm that it comes completely unanticipated. 

A quick, stinging swat lands against your ass, calloused fingers caressing over the skin as soon as it begins to heat beneath the palm of his hand. It makes you let out of rather undignified, surprised squeak, hands instinctively trying to move to cover yourself, but of course, they’re not going anywhere. The unforgiving metal of the binders cooley nipping at your skin as you strain being a good enough reminder of that. 

“But I think you can do better.”

There’s the familiar sound of his codpiece being unclipped, a small clang as it hits the floor and is kicked away without consequence. Fox lets out a low groan, the only evidence to suggest that he’s nearly as affected as you are as he pulls himself free of his blacks, taking his hard length into his hand.

Your head drops to the desk, which is met with an immediate tsk of disapproval, Fox threading his fingers through your hair as he tugs it back up, pulling just enough to ensure that the tingle is painful, a reprimand as sharp as his words.

“Keep your head up, princess,” he orders sternly. “I want everyone to hear the sounds you make when I fuck you.”

He glides his cock through your wet folds, pausing to tease a few circles around your clit with the head as he continues. “And I want everyone to know how good I make you cum.”

The head of his cock lightly slaps against your clit, punctuating his words and causing the already overly sensitive nerves to spark and tingle. The whine that leaves your parted lips is a needy, pitiful thing.

You hear his low, throaty chuckle as he backs off, nudging the glistening head of his cock between your parted lips, smoothly lining himself up at your entrance. With one drawn out, controlled roll of his hips, he’s sinking into you, hands coming to grasp your hips as your tight, warm heat clenches around him.

Once he’s fully seated himself, feeling your walls fluttering around him, he moves, adjusting his angle in several quick, sharp snaps of his hips as he gages your response. When he finds the angle that has you crying out the loudest, and he’s satisfied that his cock insistently nudges against your G spot with every thrust, he begins to move in earnest.

Fox sets an even, measured pace, pulling back only to thrust back in with more power and intensity behind the insistent movement of his hips, cock pressing against all of those spots that need to be touched, caressed, and stretched for him.

Only when it starts to build inside you, because really, after you’ve already came from the talents of his skilled tongue, it really doesn’t take much to bring you back up, only once you start moaning and writhing beneath him does the rhythm change, not stopping, but slowing considerably as his fingers grasp at your hips, pulling you against him and keeping you still despite your squirming and protests. 

You can feel his armour plates digging against your skin as he moves, the cold, unforgiving plastoid in combination with the hot slick of skin on skin as he firmly presses your hips against him is dizzying, and sends your head spinning with each gentle pulse of his throbbing cock.

He holds you there, keeping your ass pressed flush against his pelvis, only allowing small, controlled ruts of his hips that brush his cock against your walls, his form radiating patience and authority as he looms over you, watching as you mercilessly struggle for him to give you more than what he’s allowing.

Your hips try to push back, to do anything, but without being able to brace your hands, you’re not getting anywhere fast at all, and your struggle to gain any kind of leverage ends with you throwing your head back, letting out a high-pitched, frustrated whine as you look back at your tormentor, who watches with an almost impassive expression, eyes dark.

He sweeps your hair over your shoulder, littering a trail of hot kisses and sharp bites along the exposed column of your throat as he moves to your ear. 

“Got something to say, meshla?” He coos condescendingly, nuzzling his nose against your neck and letting out a warm breath that sends goosebumps down your spine.

Under the full weight of his attention, he manages to scatter the few strings of coherent words that your brain was trying to piece together into something useful. All you can do is moan helplessly, feebly pushing back against him in an attempt to get him to move in vain.

“Hm,” he muses, and you feel the brief scraping of teeth as he runs them along your shoulder. “Guess not. Maybe I’ll just stay here, until you can figure out how to use your pretty mouth to tell me what you want.”

You know what he wants, and it only takes one small, barely there nudge of his hips for it to come spilling out of you, with minimal protest or fight. 

“Please, sir, please,” you beg, both cheeks and eyes burning at how unsteady your voice sounds. “Please fuck me.”

“Ah,” he pretends to come to the understanding and that bastard, you don’t have to look at him to know that there’s a devilish smirk on his face as one of his hands leaves your hips, dipping to run along your inner thigh. 

“Understood,” he says, voice as short and crisp as if he’s just barking an order to one of his troopers. 

With that, he withdraws, unsheathing himself so slowly that every inch of him drags along your walls as he pulls out. Then, without warning, grasping your hip tightly, he slams back into you, pushing against your tightness and pulling you back onto him at the same time. His pace is now brisk, unyielding, and unwaveringly steady as he impales you on his cock, letting out low, breathy sounds, pausing to listen to the mules and moans that leave you in response.

As soon as he starts hitting someplace deep, quick and primal and constant, your back is arching, your ability to form any coherent words seemingly depleted. 

Or at least, that’s what you think, until his hand, that had up until this point been squeezing and massaging the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, moves in between your legs, fingers expertly catching on your clit, circling, pressing, and the occasional tap against the overly sensitive bud that has you gasping and jolting in place.

“Fox,” you whimper desperately, hips wriggling even though there’s nowhere to go. “Please.”

Whether you’re saying please to beg him to stop because you can’t, it’s too much, or you’re saying please because you want, you need him to never stop, to keep going because the attention he’s lavishing on your clit combined with the delicious way he’s filling and stretching you on his cock feels so wonderfully good is unclear.

The decision is quickly taken out of your hands when Fox, evidently seeing how close you are, abruptly adjusts his angle, redirecting his focus yet again to your G spot, hips rolling against you as he targets it with small, precise and shallow thrusts.

“Be a good girl,” he murmurs, hand releasing your hip to rake his fingernails down your spine. “Cum,” he orders, giving your clit another tap before he continues his tantalizing circles. “Cum for me.”

You throw your head back, spine contorting as you arch, only vaguely aware of the desk digging into your ribs as you cum, eyes squeezing shut and walls clamping down on him as some sound that you don’t even begin to hear nor control is ripped from your throat.

Only then does his pace falter and does he pull you back onto him to bury himself to the hilt within you, cold armour plating firmly pressing against your ass and your thighs, as he lets  out a long, low rumble as he stills within you, spilling his release within your warm, convulsing heat. 

You’re aware of your head falling against the desk, finally too exhausted to keep it up as your body trembles with aftershocks. You’re aware of his hand, soothing as it strokes through your hair. You’re aware of him slowly easing himself out, you think you might make a small sound at the loss, judging by his low chuckle, but you’re not sure.

You only really begin to engage with the world again when you feel the rush of liquid leaving your core, causing you to let out a small gasp. 

“Shh, little one, s’okay,” Fox murmurs, gathering the mix of his and your release that glistens on your folds with his fingers, slowly pushing it back inside, causing you to whimper. 

He guides your legs back into your panties and skirt with tender hands, pulling you to your feet and reaching around you to button up your top.

It’s only when he’s about to steer you out of the room that you realize. 

“Fox?” You say with a frown, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Aren’t you gonna, you know, undo the binders?”

He looks at you, hands occupied with snapping his codpiece back into place. 

“No,” he responds shortly. “You still instigated a fight. I at least have to play off the charade that I’m taking you back to HQ.”

He sets his helmet back on his head, and even though you can no longer see his face, you know that there’s amusement in his eyes, because even though this was your plan, he still has the last laugh. 

“This is still a punishment, and considering I’m letting you off the hook in terms of having to pay a fine, it’s a rather generous alternative, don’t you think, Meshla?” He reminds you lowly, voice clear even through his helmet modulator. “Get moving,” he orders, nudging you forward impatiently.

your mouth drops open as the noise from outside slowly filters into your ears.

He’s about to make you walk through the bar.

Your wrist still in binders as he escorts you out.

Past many of his vode.

With his cum still leaking out of you and the fresh bite marks that he scattered across your neck and shoulders like ornaments.

They’ll take one look at you, and even if they hadn’t managed to hear some of what was going on, which, judging by the dryness in your throat, would be a complete miracle of the force, they’ll know exactly what you did with the Marshall commander whom they all serve under and fuck, the burning twinge of humiliation should not effortlessly combine with some sort of excitement, but it does.

Your cheeks flush, and it takes all of your willpower to start shuffling your feet forward. 

Well played, Commander. Well played indeed. 

[d1s1ntegrated]

going absolutely feral over your streamer shiggy posts 🙏 pls never stop making them I love your writing so much ♡

- 🧸 anon

streamer!shigaraki pt2- drunk gaming

yeah bro needs to get hammered, this is the move

cw: language, emet. mention (i promise no real thr-wing up cause im lowk. scared but im trying to get over the fear slowly), general disgusting loser boy activities, tbh drunk!shiggy is a literal slob imo and its cute, bro has no social skills, loseraki!!!!!!!

"okay chat, its drunk horror night"

he'd mostly play point and click horror, a lot of indie stuff too

especially if he's drinking, cause his coordination goes OUT THE DOOR

he's a lightweight <3

bro has no decorum when he's drunk either he's a mess actually

he's taking shots of cheap whiskey and chasing w ginger ale

"chat i'm not gonna throw up"

"WHAT IS THAT" (loudest scream ever at every jumpscare)

"chat i might throw up"

"this is so disgusting" he says, shooting back his third

"okay time to lock in" *dies*

has to restart the same level four times

chat is getting increasingly infuriated bc he keeps missing very blatant clues

"BRO PLS U KEEP WALKING BY BATTERIES UR FLASHLIGHT IS DEAD BRO"

"chat is this guy fucking with me. where are the batteries."

"for the last time, im NOT playing roblox"

hops on roblox

plays dti for one round and ends up nearly crying bc his fit was voted last

uninstalls roblox on stream

"fuck you guys you dont know what art nouveau even means" (neither does he)

bro is a hiccupper when hes drunk so chat clowns on him

"my face is flushed? no thats just my eczema"

he's playing hatsune miku in the background and singing along poorly

"guys if i throw up on stream will i get banned"

a resounding yes from chat btw

"someone in chat posted the crisis hotline website link?"

"AND A LINK TO 'AA NEAR ME'????????"

"guys do you think if i dm markiplier he'll say yes to streaming with me"

"if i was a furry i think my fursona would be....probably a fennec fox or something..."

insert 45-minute rant about fursonas

"wait why are we talking about furries"

forgets he's streaming for like twenty minutes and goes silent.

leaves the room for fifteen minutes

comes back with buttered noodles

"OH SHIT"

[fanaticsnail]

The Marine's Mistake

Masterlist here.

Word Count: 1,700+ (just a small little drabble for me!!)

Warnings: Clean-shaven Mihawk, lots of flirting, mentions of drinking.

@feral-artistry requested this a while ago, and I finally had enough in me to pump out this little drabble. I can easily see myself adding to this little relationship down the line, but for now it's all short, sweet and innocent.

Hushed whispers travelled along the rotund dining table in the dimly-lit tavern. Hands shielding lips, narrowed eyes, the smallest tilt of chins spread like the trickle of seawater through a crack in the ship’s hull to litter the hallway with the salty liquid.

“What do you think happened?” a red-headed marine uttered to her comrade beside her, eyes widening the longer her sights were held to the table in the centre of the tavern.

“He wouldn’t have shaved it,” another shook their head, raising the cool glass of bitter beer to their lips. A small foam line falling to their top lip as they pulled the glass back to utter: “it’s a part of his look, right? It wouldn’t be intentional.”

“Perhaps it was an accident,” a blonde, tall cadet uttered with a curt nod, “cannon fire, a blast or something.”

“I don’t think he’d be close enough to the end of a cannon for that to happen,” a smaller, pink-haired cadet offered in response as he adjusted his circular glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You sat at the corner of the table, not quite following the conversation falling amongst your peers of marines. This was the third transfer you’d been a part of in the span of a month: the latest ship needing to utilise your skills as a hand-to-hand combat specialist to better the skills of the marines.

Vice-Admiral Garp and his marine cadets were in the early stages of building rapport with you, you only truly interacting with your peers and subordinates while running drills or swapping over watch shifts so far. This venture in land for the replenishment of supplies and to fix up any chipped wood for the ship was truly your first opportunity to really get to know your new crew on a deeper level.

You looked down at the end of your pint-glass, the slosh of the final dregs of the beaded liquid swaying as you held your gaze firmly to it.

“Marines,” you addressed your peers, bringing the attention of your drinking companions over to you, “I’m getting another round,” you rose to your feet, pushing your wooden bar-stool back beneath the table below, “speak now if you’d like another, I think it’s my turn this time?”

A chorus of a resounding “yes!” fell to your ears, prompting a small giggle rise in your chest. The “yes!” gained the attention of the rest of the small dining room, prompting you to lower your palm to the floor with a playful “shh”, the laugh falling as you began taking orders.

“I’m assuming all ales then?” you asked as your laughter diminished, “I should just get a jug, at this stage.”

“Yes to the jug!” the red-head began to chant, a broad smile displayed openly on her lips.

“Aye!” the marine beside her confirmed with a similar amount of enthusiasm.

Another giggle fell from your lips as you turned to make your way to the wooden bar, the barkeeper meeting your gaze with a nod in your approach. As you stood your torso up against the bar with a handful of berry clutched in your hand, your eyes travelled to the body which began their own approach to the bar.

The gentleman was adorning an open, cream-coloured silk shirt, frills embellishing the low collar with a crossed draw-string revealing the crevasses of his muscular chest. Dark and loose curls framed his face, angular and strong arches of his jaw and cheek bones comparable to carved marble. His yellow eyes beneath his long, dark eyelashes held an intensity you hadn’t seen before.

He was breathtaking. Your eyes travelled to his dark, leather pants held by a woven belt with a large, brass buckle. Trailing your eyes back up, you found your gaze met by the gentleman you were shamelessly undressing with your eyes; a warmth rising to your cheeks under the knowledge that you were found out.

“Marine,” he offered in a bored tone as he drew his body beside yours at the bar.

“Beautiful,” you challenged him, a small smirk rising to your lips. He arched his brow upwards in response, his intense frown no longer present atop his handsome features. He hummed, leaning his elbows against the wooden bar and flicking out his index and middle finger to gain the attention of the bartender.

“What are we drinking, gorgeous?” you asked him, turning your shoulders to offer him your full attention.

“We?” he scoffed, yellow eyes trailing over your face as his shaven chin pointed towards your own, “I am not buying you a drink, Marine.”

He turned back towards the bar, completely ignoring your presence beside him as he focussed on trailing the bartender with his eyes.

“I never suggested such a thing, charming,” you taunted him, your index finger trailing the benchtop beside him slowly; drawing his gaze to your digits. He arched his brow upwards, intrigue gracing his honey-coloured eyes briefly. The bartender finally gracing the both of you with his presence, brushing down the benchtop with a tea-towel and smiling broadly.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, placing his white and blue tea-towel over his shoulder and leaning against the counter.

“Three jugs of ale for the table in the corner,” you smiled, turning again to the man beside you, “and add his drinks to my tab, along with two more of what he’s having.”

The dark-haired man snapped his face back towards you, eyes wide at your boldness. His eyes narrowed at you, training over your playful expression.

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” he uttered in a low tone.

“None in the slightest,” you shrugged, your bottom lip falling into a small pout, “but I sure would like to.”

The man was taken aback, his eyes widening before a small smirk grew itself against his lips.

“A bottle of Sangiovese,” he tilted his chin back at the bartender, “and two glasses.”

You scrunched your nose upwards in delight, drawing out the berry to cover your tab and handing it over to the bartender. You turned to face your torso to the room, your elbows finding the bar behind you as you arched your back outwards in your leaning.

“Sangiovese?” you questioned the mysterious man beside you, “you in the mood for something more on the tart and sour side, handsome?”

“There you are again with the pet-names, Marine,” he taunted you with a small purr in his tone, prompting a warm flush to once again draw over your face. You broke away your eye contact with him and looked to the table of your peers; who seemed to have widening eyes and the colour drained from their faces. You shook your head a little, brows furrowing in question as they witnessed a waitress bring over their jugs of ale.

“And here I was thinking my poor mood would travel back home with me, after that meeting,” he uttered under his breath as the bartender came back with a decanted bottle of sangiovese and two crystal wine-glasses.

“What was that?” you asked him, turning your gaze back towards the gentleman who currently captivated you with his mysterious aura.

“Indeed, sweetheart,” he leant his body over yours, towering you beneath his intimidating aura, “something tart that I can roll over my palate with subtle spice is what the current mood of the hour calls for.”

Instead of backing away and cowering beneath his towered stoop, you instead arched your back upwards further and lulled your head to the side with your jaw revealed to him. He hummed down at you, reaching behind you both to collect the glasses and the decanter within his wide fingertips.

“You are intriguing,” he praised you in a deep rumbly whisper, his lips falling dangerously close to your own as he retrieved the objects behind you, “allow me to escort you outside to continue this delicious conversation over the wine you graciously paid for, that is-.”

You tilted your head, awaiting for him to continue his sentence. He turned his head to look to your commanding officer, Bogard and Vice-Admiral Garp, with his brow arched upwards. His lips curled up into a smirk, you watching how truly beautiful his smile grew to become.

“That is…-?” you trailed in question for him to continue, drawing your right hand up to his cheek. You utilised your index finger and thumb to collect his smooth chin and draw his attention back to you. Upon slowly sweeping the room before drawing his attention back towards you.

“That is, if you’re completely ‘off-duty’ for the rest of the evening,” his lips grew into a soft, playful grin. Oh, how gorgeous.

“A whole evening with a gorgeous stranger?” you questioned him, releasing his chin from your fingers and opting to caress his cheek, “and here I thought we were just sharing wine. Honey, you spoil me.”

A small rumbly growl released itself from within his chest to almost purr at you. He withdrew from his stoop, turning with the collected decanter and glasses within his right hand and turning to offer you the crook of his left elbow to escort you out of the tavern.

“You truly have no idea who I am?” he chuckled at you as he led you from the tavern doors, the room falling almost silent amongst the gasps and whispers from your peers.

“Should I, beautiful?” you asked him giving his bicep a small squeeze as you praised him. He sighed with a small chuckle, drawing his forehead in to press against your own briefly as he allowed the doors of the tavern to swing shut behind him.

The sunset hovering over the sea was a welcome sight, the warmth of the day falling on your skin and welcoming it into the romantic atmosphere you had both found yourselves in for the evening.

Dracule Mihawk was going to enjoy this unbridled and flirtatious attention for as long as you would allow yourself to play along with him. It had been a while since his aura of intimidation had been shed from his body, and even longer still since he was the one being approached at a bar rather than himself finding someone to toy with. He simply can’t wait for the pin to drop against the floor and you realise you are literally dancing with death.

And it was all thanks to a horrible prank performed by the chop-chop devil-fruit user. The devil-fruit user who was currently pinned against the hull of his ship by harsh chains of sea-stone as punishment fitting the crime. Perhaps he should even thank the infamous clown-captain for his idiocy, but for now: the promise of wine and a beautiful, flirtatious companion for the evening awaits. How Mihawk adored this attention.

[mamayan]

OK hear me out

Punishing sub Genya

I love this soft good boy so much but smth about him crying and begging for forgiveness is... Hot... 💜

I am literally screaming I can’t believe I didn’t see this ask sooner, my apologies Nonnie. I was just thinking about how cute he’d beg for forgiveness—

Punishment

Genya Shinazugawa x Fem! Reader

cw: NSFW • Sub! Genya • Dom! Reader • Fem! Reader • Paddling • Spanking • Misuse (or correct use ;) of an obi to make a cock ring • Orgasm Denial/Overstimulation• Dacryphilia • Begging/Whining • Male Squirting • Teasing/Slight Humiliation • Punishment • Fingering (M) • Bondage • Not proof read!

Visible puffs of air fog his face as he looks around, head hung as he drags in as much air as possible. Wrists tied above his head, silk perfectly knotted and holding him up straight, his bare feet planted on the tatami below. Each muscle tensed in anticipation, Genya prepares himself mentally for the blow before it happens.

He can’t truly prepare himself though, not when you tease in between with feather soft touches and kisses always checking in on him. “Doing okay, baby?” Breathing in his ear and making his leaking bruising cock beg for release even harder as it bobs against his abdomen. The soft obi once tied around your waist now hangs down to his knees, wrapped tightly around the base of his cock and only allowing just enough circulation to prevent any lasting damage. His balls to his tip are a nearly alarming purple, but the rest of his pale skin is flushed a bright red, and his ass an even deeper shade as it slowly forms bruises from the paddle you held.

His eyes tracked you as you moved around him slowly, circling like a predator might their prey before attack.

He shivers in anticipation, drool dripping down his chin as his lips wobble, watery gaze wild and pupils dilated to nearly cover all the purple.

“Poor thing… you need to cum don’t you, sweet boy?”

“Pl-please…mistress—,”

“Ah ah,” your hand raised to stop his pleas for mercy, shaking your head as you eye him in disappointment.

“I remember very clearly the rules, do you remember?”

“N-no cumming without pe-permission…” he swallows thickly, grunting softly as you trace just over the tip of his engorged cock with the pad of your finger.

“And what did you do?” You pry further.

“I—I came! Fuck—mistress, please, please let me cum! I-I can’t, please,” he sounds broken as he begs, legs shaking and more weight being shifted to the ceiling beam keeping his arms up. The creak is drown out by his whimpers, the way his body shifts and muscles flex as he nearly breaks his own bonds.

It must be pity, as you round behind him, and prod his hole with the finger which had collected his precum. The digit slides in easily, and the way his entire body rocks back into you a clear indication of his pleasure.

“Yes, ah, mhmm, s-so good—never disobey again, be so good for you, m’sorry,” he’s a delightful sobbing mess as you finger him, watching how his eyes roll back and head hand limp while he tries desperately to hump the air. He can’t cum with the obi around his cock though, but his mind is too far gone to think further.

“Really, what am I to do with you? Such a slutty thing, always desperate to cum. My sweet boy can’t help himself can he?” You slip another finger inside, his moans increasing an octave as he nearly passes out from the pressure in his groin. Slick squelching fills the small room as Genya chokes and cries for more, even as the paddle comes down across his flesh with a resounding smack—

“Alright, I’ll let you cum, are you ready, baby?” He’s hardly coherent as you talk calmly, reaching around his sweaty body to easily untie the belt preventing his orgasm.

He’s cumming instantly. Body jerking violently as he hunches as if to avoid your touch as you wrap your fingers around him and jerk his cock until a copious spray of cum and liquid releases and he’s going completely limp in your arms.

“Ah!,” his howl nearly sounds pained as he makes a mess on himself and the floor, your fingers sticky and wet as you keep a firm grip on his cock and keep going.

“M-mistress…?!” His panicked cry only brings a smile to your lips. Tears spill down his reddened cheeks. You keep him caged against you, still moving your fingers in his ass as you work him hard again despite the pained whines leaving his lips.

“What’s wrong sweet boy? I thought you wanted to cum?” He’s shaking, realization dawning late as he realizes your true punishment for him.

“P-please forgive me…”

“Go ahead and cum until you can’t anymore.”

Dividers created by the lovely @benkeibear

[zippidi-dooda]

You eyed Rollo from the doorway.

He sat in the plush wing chair by the bay window. Thick embroidered curtains were drawn, blocking out the moonless night. A perfect backdrop for his candlelit shadow. The flickering wax sat in it's stand on the coffee table beside him. He sat formally, stormy eyes fixed on the thick leather bound in his hands. What the contents held within were, you did not know, but he sat there each evening when he could not sleep.

You walked over.

His gaze lifted upward as he noticed your outline in his peripherals and he opened his mouth. Probably to question why you were up as well.

But you didn't give him the time. No, instead you proceeded with your goal of a few moments ago unashamed of how frazzled he would get.

He froze, eyes wide as you purposely made yourself welcome in his lap. Book nearly dropping from his hands as you scooted closer.

"What are you doing? This is highly indecorous and you should be in bed at this hour anyway."

"Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Just do it, I promise I'm not up to something."

He held back a sigh, brow twitching at the command, but followed along. "There is better use of your time, don't you think?"

"C'mon, I just came out here."

"Yes, but-" He paused, interrupted by your thumb on his lips.

You brushed your thumb along them slowly, fixated on their dewy softness.

He was rattled by the gesture. You could tell from the way his breath hitched, the intake of air sending a breeze against your fingertip. You held back a chuckle before adjusting your grip. A slight pop resounded as you parted his lips and you could feel his body heating up against you.

He wasn't sure what to think as he felt you prop something small and round between his teeth.

"Taste it."

He bit down, a sweet tang dripping to his senses.

"Grapes?" He questioned, swallowing.

Though he still had his eyes closed you nodded, proceeding to pluck him another fruit.

"How do you like them? Picked by the vigneron in town. He says they're the best you'll ever have."

Rollo munched meticulously, trying to make his assessment seriously. "His claims hold their weight."

"Yeah? I thought so too," you kept handfeeding him one by one, "do you think we should try and grow our own? Red, green, doesn't matter which, you like them both don't you?"

"Mm, yes. They're good for a number of bodily health functions." He ate another before shaking his head, eyes opening with a furrow in his brow. He grasped your wrist gently in both hands before you could feed him another. "Y/N eating irregularly forms poor habits. You could mess up everything by snacking out of schedule, especially so late in the evening."

"Oh c'mon, one snack break won't kill you." You switched to your other hand, pressing the small fruit against his mouth again.

He huffed out a sigh, giving you an annoyed look. But you weren't paying attention. Instead you were focused on the grape, forefinger lifting his chin while your thumb held the fruit in place.

Had Rollo been as observant as usual, he would have been able to guess what happened next. But he was tired and prickly by your insistant provocations so you were delighted by his jolt of surprise as you leaned forward.

You moved slowly, pausing once your noses were a hair's breadth apart. You didn't look at his beach gray eyes as they grew wide and frantic. No, you were much too distracted by the pink lips molding around the green fruit. They never failed to draw you to them.

You closed your eyes, lips ghosting over his for a moment, and Rollo soon found himself flaming.

He wasn't sure when his hands fell from your wrists but he now held them to you your sides, fingers digging into your hips unknowingly. His heart was racing and he couldn't stop himself from holding his breath.

What a troublesome thing you were. Always getting to him like this. If he didn't know any better he'd say you were the worst thing for his health.

You kissed for an timeless moment before biting down on half of the grape and pulling back. "I think that vigneron was right. I'll have to go buy some more tomorrow."

Done with your pursuits, you shifted in his lap.

Rollo's face twisted up, the bright red blooming against his fair skin burning brighter, and he tried to guide you to a more safe position.

When you finally settled, nestled into his side with your head perched in the crook of his neck and legs across the arm of the chair, you were quick to relax. His flustered blush made you feel very warm against him and you took comfort in the cozy fit by his side. You looked toward where his book lay fallen between the cushions of the seat.

"Read out loud for me, please?"

"I-I ... what?"

"I like hearing your voice."

He gaped a bit, still focused on what happened prior, but his hand took the book from yours as you pulled it out from its spot.

He exhaled steadily, turning to his lost page. "O-kay." This should be a calming enough activity for him as well.

He cleared his throat before staring slowly, trying to remember what had happened before you'd walked in.

The longer the read, the more steady he became, one hand on the book, the other caressing your waist. You could hear his heart relax to a more set pace where your ear rested against his pulse. His spoke fluidly, timber was low and soothing, as if he was speaking to the people in the square. You couldn't have found a better place to feel more at ease. With each passing second, so cozy and serene, you couldn't even tell when you had fallen asleep.

Rollo trailed off as he noticed though, having been glancing down at you from time to time. He lowered the book, closing it with a a dull thud before setting it on the coffee table beside the chair.

"Was this just an act to help you fall asleep?" He murmured.

Letting out a sigh, he hooked an arm under your knees, the other finding a stable position against your back before standing. He was gentle as he carried you to your room, setting you on the bed slowly so as not to disturb you. Then tucked you in, kneeling at your bedside for a moment, tired eyes looking over you.

"You're a bother, you know that? Always pestering me." His gaze drifted downward to your stomach.

"But I suppose you are my bother, now aren't you?"

He stood, caressing your hair back with a thumb before pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. "Goodnight. I wish you pleasant dreams, Y/N."

He walked out, leaving your door open just in case, before returning to his seat. Hopefully one day he'd be able to find rest as easily as you just had

[cinebration]

The Darkling’s Shadow (The Darkling x Reader) [Part 1]

Premise: You offer yourself as a weapon to the Darkling, acting as his hidden left hand.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Epilogue

Tagged: @don-daygamerz, @weallhaveadestiny, @kaqua, @sinful-wxrld, @ashdab2611, @ultarviolence, @chodingcreature, @demonenotturno, @crowssixof​, @mxacegrey​, @dreamlandcreations​, @s-r-reads​, @byulsrecs​, @peleksstuff​, @seraferna​, @imtherain​

Warnings: none

Gif Source: ethanhunt

In the Little Palace, whispers followed you like the rippling wake of a boat cutting through water. You basked in the furtive, wary glances of the Grisha you swept past, the murmurs buoying your step as you made your way to the Darkling’s war room.

If the whispers were jeers or vitriol, you would still enjoy it.

Power demanded fear.

That invigorated you more than anything, more so even than the thought of the Darkling’s amplifying power coursing through you.

Smoothing your red kefta with both hands, you strode through the war room’s doors, gliding on silent steps into the empty space.

Not entirely empty.

The Darkling stood on the far end of the room, leaning over the maps spread across the expansive round table in the room’s center. Only his eyes moved as you entered, glancing up to see who had dared disturb him.

You stopped short of the table, stared across its expanse at him.

Straightening, he swept his gaze over you. “Bone white,” he observed, a note of approval in his voice.

A sharp thrill coursed through you. “I thought it an appropriate color for the embroidery.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “How are you liking it here at the Little Palace?”

After your display in the tent, the Darkling had dispatched you to the Grisha stronghold while he determined what to do with you. You knew, of course, being of a similar mindset as he, that it had been for show. He had made his decision the moment you snapped the Fjerdan’s cheekbone.

He hadn’t even waited a week to return to the Little Palace and summon you to the war room.

“It’s…crowded.”

A frown creased the Darkling’s handsome features. “You don’t like being around fellow Grisha?”

Somewhere a clock chimed. You listened to its resounding bells until they died into silence, your gaze never wavering from the Darkling’s face.

“Grisha is your term.”

His eyebrows arched. “What would you prefer to be called?”

“By my name,” you answered, “or something more unique.”

A faint hum rumbled quietly in his throat, almost a laugh. “I understand the allure of uniqueness. It can be a curse, though.”

“I can be a curse.”

Taut silence descended between you, the Darkling’s dark eyes fixed unwaveringly on you.

“Is that a threat?”

Striding along the curving length of the table, your hip grazing its edge with a rasp of fabric against wood, you met the Darkling on the other side. You pitched your voice low, forcing him to pay rapt attention.

“I can be a curse or a scourge,” you murmured. Fervor swelled in your voice. “I can be a monster or a ghost. I can be anything you want…or need me to be. But most of all…”

His eyes refused to blink as you stared back at him.

“I can be your shadow, the boogeyman with blood on its hands and maw waiting in anticipation of its master’s next command.”

The Darkling couldn’t hide the dilation of his pupils or the slight widening of his nostrils. Strangling the smug smile threatening to give yourself away, you let your gaze linger on his face a fraction longer before glancing down at the map beneath his palm.

His breath rolled softly over your exposed neck. An exhilarating shiver rolled beneath your skin.

“If it weren’t for the loathing and prejudice of the Fjerdans and the Shu Han, I would suspect you were a spy.”

You glanced aside at him, tilting your neck further in a gesture of submission.

“Which makes me wonder why you are here.”

The lights in the room dimmed as the shadows darkened, rolling out from unseen crevices and corners.

“And what you hope to gain,” he added, the softness of his voice thrumming with power.

The room darkened to the one lamp set in the center of the table, its circle of light barely reaching you. The shadows across the Darkling’s face clung to him with a lover’s caress.

“I thought it was obvious,” you muttered.

“Enlighten me.”

You couldn’t ignore the command in his tone even if you had wanted to.

“You have the potential to be the most powerful person on the whole continent,” you said. “Well, you are the most powerful person on the whole continent. But you aren’t in that position of power. No Grisha, as you call them, are.”

The muscles around the Darkling’s mouth tightened.

Leaning against the table, you shifted a fraction out of the Darkling’s space. “I intend to change that, with or without your help.”

“You alone?”

“I am very committed and highly incentivized.”

“By what?”

You hesitated, wondering whether you should tell him the truth.

The darkness closed further in the room, smothering the lamp on the table. Only the barest gleam of its light reflected in the Darkling’s pupils.

“Power.” The word slid off your tongue with pure reverence. “I want the power.”

The hunger in the Darkling matched your own. You knew it in your bones, recognized the intense desire for power behind the Darkling’s calm mask.

Heartbeats thudded in your chest as he scrutinized your features.

“Why should I believe you won’t kill me to have it? Once we have achieved this grand vision you aspire to?”

“I haven’t learned to take power from a Grisha,” you answered. “Yet.”

“Do you think that is possible?”

“The Shu Han do, certainly. I think we should take power from them.”

Brow furrowing, the Darkling scrutinized your face once more.

You held your breath, heart thrashing against your ribs in a desperate attempt to hurl itself from your body.

The shadows receded, sliding back into their corners and crevices.

The Darkling took a step back from you, his expression a blank mask. He gestured to the map in front of him, long fingers ghosting over spots marked along the Fjerdan border.

“Verify the hunter’s information,” he ordered. “Bring me the head of their outpost’s leader.”

A mild twinge of disappointment constricted your chest. “Proof of loyalty.”

“Exactly.”

Straightening, you smoothed down the front of your kefta again. You strode toward the doors. “Very well, I’ll bring you your head. Then the real work can begin.”

“Another threat.”

“No, a promise.” You paused at the door and glanced over your shoulder at him. “Otherwise, you’re a waste of my time.”

You waited for the fraction of a second it took for the Darkling’s features to tighten, the muscle in his jaw flexing, before sweeping out the door, everything within you burning.

[atsucry]

Beyond The Thorn Vines

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝐕.

Malleus Draconia x gn!reader

additional info: there might be plot holes.

cw: none.

"Return as you once were," She started.

Hovering her hand over your head, the water that encompassed you stilled completely for the very first time since it had been there. A ripple ran through afterwards.

"May the curse uplift and let you prosper and bud. Let the past be healed, release the one in dormancy, and obliviate all that harm that has been done from hindsight."

Yet, everyone could sense the hesitation and shudder in her voice—a leaf trembling and caught in a gust of wind—as though doubting she could ever take you back.

Walking through a hallway of glass was all there is to it, you find your eyes to be somewhere else other than the subject talking to you and instead at the expanse of the reef beyond; two disproportionate footsteps resounded through the otherwise empty space—save for you and Azul as he went on.

“—And for you, you’re aware that octavinelle relies upon your adaptability. I have no doubt you’ll manage, but,” He says with an expectant huff in his assessment of them. “Of course, should you require guidance… you need only ask.”

You already acquainted yourself with the dorm leader during the ceremony, through some miracle you'd managed to spare yourself from being a target to one of his deal makings—at least for the time being. even for someone as lip as he was, you weren't naive for certain. you've met their fair share of conniving individuals through the course of your life, he wore his ambition like a second skin, almost, as it seemed to you.

As for the events that led up to you booting yourself in the domain of the benevolent sea witch, is something you can at least recollect.

At the start it was only it's all too eccentric headmage, that had warmly welcomed you and announcing his deeds of remarkable kindness as to give you the full experience of the college—and organising for you to go through the whole orientation and ceremony of dorm sorting to “allow you to feel more at home”.

Of course, he casually glossed over the not-so-small fact that you might peeve the other students that had prejudiced ideas about you. Needless to say, where there's bad there's good. Che'nya told you of that time he had been chased out of heartslabyul by its students.

But throughout the whole orientation it looked like one dorm leader hadn't made himself present. Chenya—he, by some way out there, caught wind that the reason the housewarden wasn't there—was because of his status. Naturally, questions and assumptions started stirring in your psyche.

Someone being unable to join meetings because of their position of higher position impossible a student nonetheless—

"I sure do hope I still have your attention?" He said with the snap of his fingers.

"A—yes. I'm sorry for that really—"

His face said all it could, he took your words with a grain of salt by the looks of it. "It's all right, but do heed my warning that if you don't pay especially close attention, you'll find yourself in deep tangles of trouble."

Nodding, you took in his words. "I'll note that."

"You mistake me, it's not a suggestion; it's crucial survival."

"...You're…joking with me, right?"

"Maybe, maybe."

A quiet wince crawled out your throat. Hooking your fingers around the knot of your tie and adjusting it into place to save yourself from any further embarrassment.

Going round the bend of the hallway, you entered into a café, couches of dark rich leather were placed all around uniformly as well as neatly polished tables, it was hours just before the opening time so it gave you the opportunity to get a good look around the place.

You stepped up the raised platform trailing behind your guide, by the looks of it this place was entirely an aquarium, considering its wards. The bar stood at the far right of the cafe. Behind the counter, shelves were lined with ornate bottles of all shapes and colors, their contents shimmering like liquid gemstones. Making you hum to yourself—maybe you'd get something there sometime.

It smelled purely of water, a refreshing smell indeed. an appetizer for the senses. Your face lit up in delectation, the owner had outdone himself, atleast to whatever standards of yours it reached.

"Right…And—and is this supposed to be a café of the sort?"

"Mostro Lounge. If you want, you could work shifts here." The sharp click of his heels on the ground halted, as well as all movement of his. "I take great pride in the fact I've furnished the entire space through my judgment of aesthetics."

"It's certainly polished," You swiped your finger over one of the table tops, squeaking under the friction.

A look of satisfaction overtook his expression at your evaluation, he couldn't help the warm chuckle that escaped him, contrastive to the blue, cold contexture.

"I appreciate the feedback,” He replied. “Of course, you also have something pretty to look at while you eat if your conversation grows stale; or if you came to eat alone," he added. "furthermore if you have any suggestions for the menu we will take it into account."

"Oh! Well that's nice," a fleeting sense of marvel had passed through you, holding your own hands in front of you as your gaze roamed the surroundings, letting it run along the pristine glass that let through a sight to see, a natural glow of its own, disregarding the already lit table lamps.

Though, the lingering thought of another…incident had not left your mind for some peace, being mindful of large bodies of people became a crucial forethought to you.

“This really does look like a fine place to dine but i think i'll have to catch mine early everytime—or just have it as take-out if thats not a hassle."

“Social anxiety, I take it?”

“Wha? No…” You hesitated. "Not exactly, just a personal problem.”

Azul cocked his head slightly to the side,reading his look, he was starting to go into his introspect by the quirk of the corner of his mouth. "I am always open to helping my wards when it comes to catering to their needs, if there were anything you needed im sure I could find a way to accommodate—"

“I promise I’ll just tell you another time.”

“Promise? You're sure of that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Very well,” Said Azul, by the tone of his voice it seemed he dropped the topic, turning back to tour more of the dorm. “Well, I believe that's enough of an introduction for now. You've seen the lounge, Mostro lounge, and I've shared its purpose. The rest, I think, is best experienced firsthand.” And with that you were dismissed.

“But I wouldn't want you to get lost on your first day here, so I'll have my business partners watch over you and guide you whenever.”

In a moment's notice, two new footsteps had come out of nowhere from one side of the hallway, gradually drawing closer and as if they were summoned out of nowhere. Once turning the bend and fully came into view; mirroring figures—nearly, if you squinted. They still had different features. One wore his uniform like he just put it on without thought.

"Ah, there you are," Azul remarked, turning toward them with a measured smile. "I was just introducing our newest student to Mostro Lounge, and I thought it best to have you two accompany them. As we discussed earlier, a guide is always a good idea."

He went on to introduce the twins, the twins, introducing themselves. Jade & Floyd leech. With a creeping voice, one of them addressed you.

“Look who we have here,” Floyd said, stepping forward a bit. “Fresh meat from the Royal Sword Academy! How cute!” What was most bizarre about him, however you noticed—were his irregular eye colours. You could say the same for the other twin. "What do you think, Jade? Should we test their resilience? See if they can handle the experience?"

Your brows furrowed, discomposure running down your being like a stream, and every on going word only served to disorient you. As evident in your eyes darting anywhere but them with the energy of a rogue bullet.

Jade, ever the picture of composure, adjusted his gloves with precision before answering. "Now, now, Floyd. Let's not frighten our new guest on their first day. We wouldn't want them running back to Royal Sword Academy, would we?" They were…interesting personalities to say the least. Behind their eyes were surely threads of thoughts you, for one, had no access to. You were sure it was all tangles anyway.

Azul cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "Now that introductions are complete, I trust the two of you to ensure our new student doesn't encounter... unnecessary difficulties. Am I understood?"

"Crystal clear, boss," Floyd said with an exaggerated salute, his grin as sharp as ever.

"Of course," Jade agreed with a slight bow.

Azul nodded in approval before turning to you. "Consider this arrangement a token of my goodwill. You'll find that having the Leech brothers as your guides can be quite advantageous—though I recommend staying on their good side." His tone was light, but the warning was unmistakable.

With that, Azul excused himself, leaving you alone with the twins. The moment he was out of earshot, Floyd's grin stretched impossibly wider.

"So, newbie," he began, slinging an arm around your shoulders with a surprising lack of regard for personal space. "What's your deal? You look like someone who’s got a story. Spill it."

“Floyd, it's not recommended to get into someone else's affairs.” Jade interjected, his voice carrying a hint of reproach.

Floyd waved him off but did loosen his grip slightly. "Fine, fine. But only because you asked so nicely, Jade."

"Well, you've landed in the deep end, that's for sure," Floyd said, chuckling. "But hey, sink or swim, right?"

"We’ll make sure you stay afloat. For now, why don’t we continue the tour? There’s much more to see of Octavinelle than just the Mostro Lounge."

Reluctantly, you nodded, falling into step with the twins. Floyd hummed a jaunty tune as he strolled alongside you, while Jade’s calm presence served as a strange counterbalance. The two of them, so different yet undeniably connected, made for an odd pair of guides—but at least you weren’t wandering alone.

You took your sweet time wandering the vicinity, walking ‘round without another thought and taking glances behind you from time to time to ease your own, imaginative worries, not that you meant to insult.

Eventually, the tour came to an end, having them escort you back to your own dorm room. You waved them a simple goodbye while they left side by side.

The sound of the lock mechanism making a click had brought you an unprecedented relief, holding a hand over the gap between the door and frame as a light huff left you. A gentle flow of light from your bedroom shone through onto your back—it made it look like waterfalls fell from the edges of your shoulders onto the ground.

“Ah, you're still alive I see.” A voice called out from behind you, and there really could be only one individual—

“Chenya, how'd you get here?!” Surprised words shot out right through your teeth like bolts of lightning.

“Hm…No how are you? I get it. Well, that's not somethin’ you gotta worry about. I’ve just come to check up on you to see if you still have all your toes and fingers intact and I'll be on my merry way.” He whistled, slowly lowering himself on your desk chair, swirling his finger around that book to feel up its texture. “You coincidentally got your hands on such a wacko book—”

“Chenya, please stop touching it,’ dragging yourself to his side, you sighed. “I already got too much on my plate as is.”

He carefully set the book down, setting up tension for you and raising his hands in surrender. “Alright…my hands are off.” He jeered at you. This was one of the only times you think he's been straightforward in listening to commands.

“Oh, I can imagine Azul’s already sizing you up for one of his famous contracts. Did he offer you a freebie yet? He loves doing that, makes the fish think they’re getting a good deal.” He spinned around in your chair, making you step back lest you collide with him, before it stopped and he faced you again with him resting his head on the backrest of it.

“No…? Not that I'M aware of…?” You said, certainly UNcertain because that's all you could recall.

“A shame…well, I better get going before I face the wrath of a certain housewarden…heh heh…” And just like time and time again, he disappeared. Only leaving his laughter to keep you company momentarily after he fully vanished.

But, it didn't go unnoticed by you, the light tapping outside your window—only to find that outside it was wholly water. Recalling the memories left you had as a juvenile where you could share words with the element itself almost. Communicating in unconventional manners. an ability Naiads possessed.

You approached the glass like a wary creature coming out of hiding, taking ample steps forward.

What you felt bubbling up however, was a different story on its own. A distant memory resurfaced for air under the heavy weight of everything else. It hit again—that pin pricking pain in the head, you would think it was trying to weave itself onto you and tighten loose threads.

Your fingers found its way to cup your forehead habitually, acting like a helmet from a headshot, as useless as it may seem, it was the placebo effect of it. your eyes shut like a chest of a baneful soul's secrets for a brief moment before forcing them to look upon the sight before you.

You could only wish for such things to be rid themselves, your body giving into the weight, letting you stumble over to the window to support yourself. To get to something so seemingly meaningless, it made the effort to have you imagine you walked a mile.

For a few seconds, you made the inference that it wanted to make a mockery of you, the stillness of it only invoked your irate temper even further, before something moved in the otherwise nothingness, an endless blue.

A singular green river pebble, how it got here remains a mystery. It came into view—seemingly out of nowhere, an echo of something, in any chance, nostalgia.

Your gaze fixed on it, your breath catching in your throat. It didn’t belong here, and yet it was here, as vivid as the headache splitting your mind in two. suspended in a liminal moment where logic buckled under the weight of something deeper—instinct, perhaps, or fear.

It passed, and it was gone. Yet you were still here, waiting vainly in position.

"Is that…that was…was that it?" You weren't far from a madman, maybe you were. "You sure do enjoy being vague for something so clear." You crossed your arms, exhaling and leaving a fog on the glass. You rested your knee on the edge of the bed before letting yourself topple over and into the sheets.

"I find myself here again…"

Your eyes slowly screwed themselves close, giving yourself a well deserved nap.

Like clockwork, most things around you seemed to still, save for one—an inanimate object. Everything still went on while you were deep in your dreams.

The bead of glass embedded into the book shattered itself another crack, marring it's visage and the color of essence remained a bright red beneath it.

As you lie there, you could only hope to wake up to silk mornings.

note: hey...haha...guess who's back...chat i swear i didnt abandon it I jst got caught up in school and mental health breaks. Im gnna be updating soon again to make up for it. And forgive the possible inconsistencies and inaccuracies. Thank you for reading!

[lightlycareless]

For the high school au, who do you think is more likely to get flustered/giddy from an indirect kiss(like drinking from the same drink), Y/N or Naoya?

Hello anon!

Yesssss feed my highschool au some more... I need more...

Anyways, as I needed to do, I wrote a little something that might serve as an answer for your question, but there's also a tldr at the bottom hehe.

Warnings: fluff. highschool au. naoya and y/n are students here. dorky ones. gojo is annoying. hinata is... surprisingly understanding?

Happy reading!

Indirect kisses weren’t a thing on your or his mind… until Gojo brings it up one day.

And it wasn’t even during a conversation with you! It was through one his mandatory teasing sessions with Hinata, your sister, happening when he asked her if he could take a sip of her water bottle since he failed to bring his own, to which she naturally responded with a resounding no—cue everything else.

“Why? Scared that we’re going to indirectly kiss? Not like we haven’t done that bef—”

“Seriously, do you ever shut up?!”

You didn’t give it much attention at first, of course; having muted their incessant bickering at that point… until hearing the indirect kiss part.

That was probably the first time you heard about it, or at least cared.

You were always a hopeless romantic, dreaming of the day you’d be able to meet your soulmate, do all the things you wanted to do with a partner, and live happily ever after!

Fortunately, you’d be lucky enough to experience such a blessing just a few weeks after joining jujutsu high, with the most handsome, charming, yet cool boy you’ve ever met in your life—and with it, opening a world of possibilities you didn’t even dream of! All thanks to the fact that you were living the very much in love girlfriend experience with Naoya.

Besides, it was also thrilling to explore all these new couple-like things with him, who was equally excited to have found someone that cares for him very much.

It was almost endearing to see how the cold, crude, and a bit irritating Naoya would turn out to be nothing but putty in your hands! A devoted lover always looking for ways to make you happy.

However, not everything that crossed your mind would make way to his acknowledgment; not that it mattered much, since he’d eventually caught up to it on his own.

Naoya’s suspicions would begin when he notices you acting a bit… different, far more silent than usual, but highly attentive to his belongings, like his flask, or his soda, juice, or just about whatever he places his lips on…

Soon enough, he decides to confront the matter.

“Is everything… alright?” he asks halfway through his lunch, your gaze heavy on him.

…

“Y/N?”

“Oh, uh—yes! Everything is fine!” You eventually respond, in a shrieky tone that couldn’t be any more suspicious. “I kind of lost myself on my own thoughts, but nothing to worry about!”

“Then why do you keep staring at me?” Naoya prods; not that he minded being stared at, in fact, he would love to be the only person you looked at…

But not in that eerie way.

“I just like watching my boyfriend” you say. “Is it wrong?”

“No, I guess not.”

And that seemed to serve as an excuse to drop the topic all together, maybe you were just deep into your thoughts and there was nothing else to it.

Until he sees you doing the same thing again soon after, not even a few hours later!

“Y/N, as much as I love those cute big round eyes of yours on me, you need to tell me what is going on, because I’m getting a I bit concerned.”

“What do you mean? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” you feign ignorance, alongside a nervous chuckle that further marks you as untrustworthy. “I’m just enjoying my time with my loving boyfriend!!”

“Don’t lie to me, mochi. I can see it in the way you’re acting.” He crosses his arms.

“… Alright, fine! There has been something bothering me…” you eventually confess, pouting. “I was just wondering how many times we’ve actually kissed, indirectly I mean.”

“Indirectly?” he raises an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Yeah, you know, like… when we share a drink, or take a bite of each other’s food…” you blush. “That kind of stuff…”

“Is that a… thing?” he asks. “How does it work?”

“You know—it’s when you… well, when you place your lips on a surface, and then I put my lips on it, and if you remove that surface, it’s like we kissed! Right? Just not… directly. That’s why it’s called an indirect kiss!”

Naoya stares at you in silence, attempting to make sense of the explanation you just gave him, for your words seemed a bit… too crazy, if that made sense.

Like someone suddenly came up with this thought, probably some desperate loner, to feel some kind of connection towards their unrequited crush.

Pathetic, he thinks…

If there wasn’t some honesty to be found.

Because as much as he tries to paint himself as above all corny things, truth was… he was equally intrigued by your discovery.

It just made sense! It was essentially the same thing but without your lips! Which is the biggest setback out of this whole ordeal, but aside from that, this meant that the two had previously shared a kiss before even officially dating!

“Why are you all red, Naoya?!” You fret upon seeing his tomato-like face.

“No—Nothing!” He cries back, a lie. “It’s nothing!”

“Come on, tell me Naoya!!” you insist, grabbing him by the shirt.

“Fine! If that indirect kiss is true… does that mean we’ve actually kissed before?? Or… kissed more?”

Your eyes widen at the conclusion, making your heart flutter.

“Oh my god that is true, Naoya! Does that mean that whenever I get a sip from your drink, I’m actually kissing you???”

“It has to be!”

“Do you know what that means too??” you beam. “We can change flasks and it’ll be like we’re always kissing!”

“Huh, I haven’t thought about that.” He murmurs, impressed and flustered. “But I wouldn’t mind getting more of your direct kisses too.”

“The real deal is obviously much better… but this is a nice alternative!” you smile. “Can we do it, pleaseeeeee?”

And the two would end up doing so… much to everyone’s annoyance.

As if the two weren’t already highly obnoxious when it came to demonstrating affection, this was simply the cherry on top.

It was obvious that the two had suddenly… taken an extra step when it came to doing things together, things that neither did before, or very scarcely, and subsequently torturing those around you with it.

Such as the exchange of flasks between the two, followed by sharing… just about anything, really, a cup, a straw, a utensil. Anything.

Some thought it a bit unpleasant, while others, simply thought it crazy.

Satoru and your sister would fall in the last category.

“What is up with them??” Hinata blurted. “They’ve been going at it since—forever it seems!”

She’s used to your unbearably sweet gestures with your boyfriend, but this was straight up ridiculous!!

“You know what it reminds me of? Of those kings that would have one of their subjects check for poison in their food. Think someone is trying to poison Naoya, that might be why Y/N is trying all his food beforehand!”

“Poison Naoya?? Ugh, who cares! What about my sister!! She’s far more important than him! If anyone should be trying out for poison, should be him!”

“I think you’re losing the point here…” Geto would chime in; he wasn’t intending to, but after seeing their heated bickering, he just needed to. Victim to gossip, as always.

“How would you know what’s going on between the two?” Hinata frowns.

“You’re going to tell me your sister hasn’t told you?” He laments.

“Huh? Did she tell you something?” She gasps.

“Nope, but it’s quite obvious.”

“What is?”

“I think your beloved sister just discovered what indirect kisses are.”

Hinata frowns for a second, trying to figure out why that term felt oddly familiar…

“No goddamn way.” She breathes when finally remembering. “Is that—is that the reason why they’re acting so weird?!”

Geto shrugs. Gojo grins.

“HAHAHAHAHAH No fucking way!!! That is hilarious!! Gojo shrieks, as if he’d heard the funniest joke in all history. Or perhaps, found out a new way to torment his favorite lovebirds. “I have to get there and—”

“No, you won’t!” grabbing him by the collar, Hinata puts an end to Satoru’s mischievous plan before it can even begin. “You will leave them alone, and that is that!”

“Ugh, you’re no fun, Hinata; no wonder you’re single…”

“And it’s a wonder how you’re still alive with all that dumb shit you spew out your mouth!” She says as he begins to drag him away, where he won’t be able to tease you nor Naoya.

Because if there’s one thing that Hinata often gets misjudged on, is her true feelings towards Naoya.

Beneath the antagonism, and maybe even the slight disgust she felt for the obnoxious dynamic you had with your boyfriend, she was actually glad that you’d found someone to give all that love you had in your heart.

And that he reciprocated with the same intensity, if not more given his willingness to go along with your antics. It was unexpected from him, that’s for sure, but Hinata won’t deny that she was also happy that he could convey such emotions. It kind of changed her perspective of him for the better. Hmm.

Hinata is willing to endure that unpleasant feeling of watching the two be all over the other, protecting your relationship from the noisy interceptions of Satoru (or others, Suguru isn’t off the hook just yet), and maybe even your dad’s overprotectiveness, as long as you were happy.

And if she gets a chance of not seeing you do that with your boyfriend that frequently, too.

But mainly, for your happiness.

tldr: you brought it up to Naoya quite excited about it, but he's the one that get's all crazy with it :) he's really happy to know that he's actually kissed you before even dating, it's almost like this relationship was meant to be. aww.

Well I gotta say, thank you for sending this!! I'm always happy to share more highschool stuff where Naoya is nothing but a dork who loves his girlfriend very much (and is quite awkward about it) and Y/N is a hopeless romantic that wants to spend all of her time with him. :')

AND WE HAVE SO MUCH MORE COMING TOO I HOPE I'LL BE ABLE TO FINISH IT SOON.

Anyways, until then...

Take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️❤️❤️

[projectbluearcadia]

Work-Life Balance

Lucifer x GN!MC

[ Scenario: Not only are you Lucifer's student, but you are also his spouse. Only a select few are privy to the latter information, and both of you intend to keep it that way. Nevertheless... you do want to push his buttons. ]

Wordcount - 1242

The sound of chalk tapping against the chalkboard. The dusky Devildom classroom, lit by dozens of deep blue will ‘o wisps silently buzzing around the room. The feeling of the pen grinding against your writing callus as you hurriedly copied down each complicated symbol, struggling to keep up with the chalk. The smoky, familiar smell that greeted you as the professor made his rounds to check on everyone’s work. 

This is your magic classroom. 

“As you all seem to be comfortable with basic water enchantments, we’ll be moving onto section 2.4 today,” the black-haired male announces after he’s returned to his desk at the front of the lecture hall. The glare of the will ‘o wisps shimmers off his glasses, temporarily dying the lenses blue before you shift your head over another person’s. “Has anyone read ahead of the today’s lecture notes?” I have, because I watched you write them. “No one?” 

“I have, Lord Lu—er, Professor,” someone says timidly, and your professor gives the barest hint of a smile. 

“Then would you care to tell your peers what I’m going to teach for the remainder of today’s class time?” 

“Fire magic fundamentals.” A collective groan, one which the professor quickly puts an end to with a quick look. Although he is surprisingly forgiving, every one of Professor Lucifer’s students knows that he isn’t a man to be trifled with, and not just because he and his family have been personally hired by RAD’s President, Diavolo. 

“If you’re going to groan, I frankly have no idea why you’ve bothered coming to my class,” Lucifer says, taking his time to look over the room. “This is Sorcery 101, Magical Constitution and Control. If you struggle in one area, you struggle with all of them. I do not care if you all are used to the fire affinity. You will learn from the ground up, and you will learn it properly in this class. Understand?”

“Yes, Professor…” is the resounding, chastised mumble that flows through the hall. 

“Now, let us begin by disproving a few common myths about fire magic…” Lucifer begins, and his scrawl quickly covers the board as he draws a perfect inscribed pentagram. “MC, our human student, came to my office hours to ask about this when we covered section 2.1, raw energy, and I believe now would be an appropriate time to answer their question. They asked, ‘can I shoot a fireball if I just tell the energy to do that?’ Who would like to answer that question?” You shrink a little in your seat; of course he mentions that embarrassing conversation that definitely was not during his office hours. 

Lucifer turns and nods at one of the students raising their hand, and they say: “Yeah. Fire is raw energy.” 

“You are both correct and incorrect,” Lucifer replies, and for not the first time, you feel bad for the student, but it was more kind than him normally declaring an answer completely wrong. “Fire can be manipulated from raw energy very easily, but to say that it is raw energy is incorrect. How does fire appear in the human world, MC?” 

“Er, carbon combusts in the presence of oxygen… is the general rule,” you reply. Wait, does whatever the hell happens with the sun or event horizons or lava count? 

“That is one of the ways, yes,” Lucifer replies. Dammit! “Fire requires a fuel source, and similarly, magic activation for fire requires extra energy to combust and change form. In other words, there is a secondary, constant cost to fire magic activation, similar to other magic we have covered. I would say you waste about 1.5 times more energy using fire magic over raw power.” A few of the students shrink in their seats, clearly guilty parties. “Does that answer your question, MC?” 

“...yes,” you reply, feeling a bit sulky, and Lucifer gives you the briefest snarky little smirk. Oh, he would pay for that.

~~~

“MC, I thought we agreed no more using my office hours,” Lucifer sighs as you knock on the open door to his room. It’s a quiet place, complete with a clean blackboard, a well-used box of chalk on its metal ledge and four chairs tucked tight against a long table against the wall. Lucifer’s computer sits open at his desk, facing away from you, but you know well enough he’s grading assignments right now. “You’re using time that other students need.” 

“And?” you ask, closing the door behind you. “I need you more than them, Professor.” Oh, that tone? You’re going with that tone? Here, in Lucifer’s office? 

“MC,” he says warningly, but you’re stalking up to his desk, placing your hands onto the polished wood as you bend your head down to Lucifer’s. “MC… This is not the time…” He doesn’t mean that, not in the slightest; you can hear his sternness slowly being exchanged for tenderness and desire, and you find yourself smiling as you bring one hand up to caress his soft, pale cheek. 

“Can’t you make a little time for your spouse?” you ask, and Lucifer blinks slowly at you, his crimson eyes melting further. He is melting in your hands like chocolate on a warm Halloween. 

“Darling, I love you, but I’m working,” he murmurs, returning your cheek caress. “Can’t you wait for me?”

“No,” you murmur, your lips practically touching his. Stubborn bastard won’t kiss you right now though, no, because that door could open, and then what? Some kind of student-teacher sex scandal? Oh, but the prospect of being caught is so dangerously tempting. You’d be lying if it hadn’t crossed your mind that you could live out fantasies most people couldn’t dream of, if not for Lucifer’s (and your) need for this to be kept a secret. 

“I’ve had a very long day,” he says, his eyes wandering across your face, then down your collar and lower, scanning you as if confirming for himself that you’re standing there. “And you’re pushing me, MC.” Well, that’s the intent, honeybunch. 

“You can take it out on me, Lucifer,” you whisper, “You know I can take it, and what’s the harm anyway?” 

Lucifer’s lips part, and he captures you in a kiss for a moment before you pull away, leaving him confused. 

“MC?”

“Thank you, darling; I’m all refreshed.” You straighten up from his desk. “Oh, did you think I was serious? I was only joking, Luci; we can’t do that here. Who knows what hapless student might bear witness!” You laugh a little at Lucifer’s annoyed face. He can’t argue with you on this either, because he knows damn well that you’re right, even if there weren’t a lot of students brave enough to use his office hours.

“...you’re welcome,” he replies with a slow, irritated sigh. “I should assign you 20 extra problems from the next unit.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“I think I will,” Lucifer says after a moment, a smile slipping back across his lips. “Due at midnight tonight.” 

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“Perfectly,” he replies, returning back to grading papers. “In fact, let’s make it a test. It’ll be awfully difficult for you to write while your face is pressed against your answer sheet, so I’ll read it out to you, and you’ll need to tell me what the right answer is. If you fail, you’ll certainly need to come to me for some supplementary lessons.” 

Well, shit. That backfired. 

…not like you’re complaining though.

[rangerzath]

I've finally played the Lake House and now I'm going to talk about it for awhile. Spoilers below the break.

I will start off by saying this is one of the BEST DLCs I have ever played in any game.

I have always loved Kiran as a character since we first saw her, but The Lake House really highlighted just how fantastically rounded and detailed this character is given the short amount of time we spend with her. Her humor, the fear she experiences, but above all the determination she has to do her job makes a great character.

I appreciated how much we see of the everyman FBC agent. Not everyone at the FBC is a parautilitarian, a lovable scientist dork, or the Director. There are normal people working there believing in what they do. This is a very important part of the overall story of this organization to me. Often I see the Bureau demonized as a whole by the fandom and that really upsets me. Bad apples are everywhere, as we see in this DLC. But we also see how a good person like Kiran stands up against it. Even through the emails and documents we find in game you see good people trying their best against that evil. I am again thankful for Remedy's writing team that they really highlighted that. Even going as far as showing Darling denying a request to capture live test subjects, which means he learned after Dylan. You even see that Trench denied outlandish requests despite being being in the late stages of a galactic war raging in his mind.

You know I had to talk about Trench and Darling, but it was nice to see them again in this way. They still felt a part of this world in a way that made sense. Document storytelling has been one of my favorite things about Control. They present us with just enough framework to use on our own canvas to try and piece together details of those blank pages.

Did I get emotional over signatures? Yes, yes I did.

The atmosphere of this DLC hit all the right horror points. From the moment you walk into The Lake House it captures all the scariest horror vibes from the main game. The paint spattered on the walls like blood, but somehow even creepier because of how it wouldn't make sense to see paint like that (until you figure out just what is happening). Being helpless to the painted because again you are just an FBC Agent not a parautilitarian emphasized this feeling.

Using a picture frame set up with Kiran telling Saga what happened at The Lake House made sense and gives us the point in time Kiran would be providing this information. She left us clues in the main game with her dialogue of something horrible that went down at the Lake House, so it feels very appropriate that we get to see that in detail.

The question that resounded throughout this DLC of what is art was very appropriate given the struggles we face today with AI and plagiarism. How is art perceived and how does its emotional impact play on its viewer? Again the writing team really shines here with all the little details. The room with the ATDs was truly horrifying. I don't think they have ever made a room with no one feel so ominous.

Obviously there was a lot in the DLC for Control fans. We will be speculating on every detail for the next couple of years. I always hoped this last DLC of Alan Wake would lead into Control 2, so I couldn't be happier to see just that happen.

Unlike some DLCs that feel as though they were an afterthought, the story feels like the natural ending of Alan Wake 2's story. It felt like the only goodbye we would have with this game and its characters.

The ending song was a beautiful final note to capstone a game that Remedy struggled for so long to make, and I imagine at times doubted that it would ever be made.

I often struggle to put my feelings into written words, but I wanted to try and get them out. Remedy's future looks bright with multiple games on the horizon, but we see how quickly companies can run into issues and nothing is set in stone. Anything could happen in these uncertain times. We may never see these characters again, and most certainly not in the form they are now. It makes me really sad to think we may never see Saga and FBI Casey or Kiran ever again. Maybe there won't ever be an Alan Wake 3. Maybe we won't see Alan battle the Dark Presence again. Maybe we won't ever see Dark Place Casey's echos pave a path for Alan. Maybe we won't see Alice show us just how much a character can grown into her own. Maybe we don't even get to see more of Jesse, or Emily, or Arish. I already know with the passing of James McCaffrey some of these things are impossible. But its not only death that separates seeing a character again. The song End of an Era highlights this goodbye. This end scene. The curtains close. It is an end.

What I appreciated in this song was that it highlighted the struggle of getting to that ending. No matter what goal you are trying to reach, whether it's Alan trying to escape the Dark Place, Jesse finding out what happened to her brother, any one of us creating things that make us happy, that path always has its ups and downs. And that end will always be bittersweet. It will change us. It is a goodbye.

Whatever Remedy creates in the future it could be something we may like or something we may end up disliking. They could ruin characters or make brand new ones for us to fall in love with all over again. We can take that or leave it. Whatever they decide to do. Maybe we like Firebreak and their new type of Remedy game, maybe we don't. But none of that will change how we felt about these prior games and how these characters made us feel at this moment in time. We can look back and remember how it made us feel. When we laughed, when we cried. The journey they took us on.

I will always be grateful that I was able to experience these games. They moved me in ways I cannot find the words to fully describe. I will carry these feelings forward and cherish this memory.

“There are no happy endings. Endings are the saddest part, So just give me a happy middle And a very happy start.” - Shel Silverstein