#loved these looks from him I had to draw them

[sunny-haven]

Libraries are amazing. My childhood would be very different if it weren’t for them. I was able to slowly get into PC gaming because of they’re free-to-use computers (I got a lot of kids to play Minecraft with me, and then Halo: Custom Edition). I also was able to borrow video games as well which was really cool (and if the library didn’t have any, I would order them from another library). I made so so many friends there and became good friends with the youth staff and security guards. I got to try a lot of cool board games there! And of course I read a loooot of books there, there was a certain delight in picking up an easy to read children’s book (sometimes a picture book, sometimes a chapter book) and just chill, or go through the comics section, or sometimes something bigger if I was feeling up for it.

I got to learn how to build a computer at a library (and we built new computers for the adult section with our names engraved onto them). They had an event where comic artists came over and had us make a little zine full of our comics, twice! They built a section for teenagers to hang out and chill in and it was (mostly) soundproof so we were able to play D&D or whatever and chill without worrying about being too loud. I had drawing pads and would draw there, a lot, and would show off my work to the staff and friends who loved it, even when my mom would sometimes find it disgusting.

I even volunteered at the library, helping put away books for the youth section, and some of my friends volunteered as well. The library was a very frequent hangout spot for my friends even as we eventually started going to other places as well. When I didn’t have internet for over a year, I almost always was at the library because of the free internet there. Hell, even my first fursona was a librarian, and I remember making art of him reading books to kids and I drew the background so it looked just like the library I grew up in. I even made a couple of (now private) YouTube videos there of me goofing around with friends. And a bunch of other awesome things happened there.

I also wanna say how big of an impact it had on my mental health as I was able to go away from my mom and her hoarder apartment. It was a safe haven for me. I still miss the friends I made there and visiting there in general (I live pretty far away now). Libraries are fucking awesome and we need to support them. I can’t imagine what my life would have turned out if I didn’t have access to libraries.

[writingastory]

Headcanons: The Morning After

Prompt: "It’s the first time they’ve woken up together in the same bed, and one partner is mesmerized by the other’s sleeping face—softly watching them wake up, still sleepy and a little disoriented."

Pairings: Xavier x fem!reader; Zayne x fem!reader; Rafayel x fem!reader; Sylus x fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff, suggestive thingies

Genre: "Normal" AU (no Evol, no Wanderers - just normal life)

A/N: I originally wanted to write some angsty, but couldn't bring myself to it. Life's hard enough, let's enjoy some fluff. Hope you enjoy! 💕

🌟 Xavier was still fast asleep by the time you woke up. The sun was tickling your nose in a way it usually did not - and it took you a moment to realize why it felt so strange. You were not in your bed... or your room for that matter.

🌟 Looking around, you found your clothes strewn about the room - and your boyfriend in bed, right by your side, under the blankets. Naked. Just like you.

🌟 A pleasant shiver ran up your spine, images of the night before flickering through your mind. His touches, his kisses - the way you two entangled under the sheets, and became one...

🌟 You smiled and traced the light marks on your skin. Xavier stirred lightly next to you and you couldn't help snuggling into his back, leaving gentle kisses on the back of his neck. Your fingers traced his spine with a feather-light touch, before continuing to draw invisible patterns into his skin.

🌟 He stirred again and rolled onto his other side, facing you. He blinked a few times and scrunched his nose cutely as the light hit his eyes. You giggled and kissed his nose. "Good morning," you whispered, cupping his face gently. He hummed in response, a small smile forming on his lips.

🌟 Xavier was far from ready to start his day. He scooted closer to you and pushed you onto your back slowly, snuggling into your side, his face hidden in your neck as his arms engulfed you carefully - as if you were a precious treasure that would break if he used too much force. His lips found your collarbone, planting soft kisses on the warm skin there.

🌟 "Good morning, indeed..." he mumbled between kisses, his hand finding your thigh, pulling it over his hips to lock you together once more. His one hand gripped your knee to hold your leg in place as his other snaked around the back of your neck to keep you close to him, stealing kiss after kiss from you, each one deeper and more intimate than the one before - and you suddenly had the feeling that you would not leave that bed for a couple more hours...

❄️ Zayne woke up before sunrise - 5 AM sharp, as he did every single day. His internal clock was as precise as a Swiss watch. He jolted slightly as he felt movements next to him; it was a strange feeling to share the bed. The smallest of smiles graced his lips as his eyes fell onto your form in the dim light of your shared bedroom, buried underneath the many blankets.

❄️ He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, his head resting on his hand comfortably. Zayne watched you in silence, enjoying the serenity of the moment. He was in no hurry. You two had been dating for months and decided to go on a last-minute vacation in Snowcrest. Away from friends, family - and work. A well deserved break from life that had gotten just a tad too hectic lately.

❄️ Zayne just loved spending time with you. He had invited you on this vacation for this very reason. You two becoming intimate was not planned - but not unwelcome either. It was simply the perfect addition to a perfect day.

❄️ He scooted closer carefully, trying not to wake you up. He just needed to be closer to you now, feeling your soft skin under his fingertips once again...

❄️ You stirred a bit as his fingers trailed over your exposed neck and shoulders, reaching the edge of the blanket. Slowly, he pushed them off your form, small goosebumps appearing on your warm skin. Maybe it was selfish - he should let you rest for however long you needed to - but...

❄️ His lips followed the path his fingers forged a few moments earlier, leaving tender, loving kisses. He felt your stir once more before your opened your eyes, smiling fondly. "Hey..." your voice was hoarse, still thick from sleep. "Hey," he answered quietly, the tiniest smirk forming on his lips. "What time is it?"

❄️ "Probably around 5 AM," Zayne answered, his lips reaching the small dip between your collarbones. You hummed, your eyes falling shut again. "Why are you awake already? I thought we're on vacation?" A chuckle left your lips, and Zayne continued planting kisses on your soft skin. "We are," he answered, slowly rolling on top of you again. "I just... need another taste."

🎨 The air flowing into the room was fresh and cool, carrying a salty taste from the sea. The long white curtains danced in the light wind, the sunlight streaming through the opened windows. You groaned a bit at the sudden coolness, only then feeling the weight on your back. Rafayel clung to you, snoozing happily, his head resting between your shoulders, his arms tightly wrapped around you.

🎨 He mumbled something incomprehensible and nuzzled your skin gently, littering sleepy kisses over your back. His hands shamelessly started wandering along your body, quickly finding and settling on your breasts, squeezing them gently.

🎨 "Good morning?" you chuckled lightly, not minding the needy fondling. "It is a good morning," he answered, his grin audible in his words, his hands squeezing your mounts again as if agreeing to his statement.

🎨 "Stop that," you giggled, trying to wiggle away from him - unsuccessfully. He deliberately pinned you down with a chuckle, his lips attacking your shoulder and neck. "Why would I? The noises you make are just so cute~"

🎨 He was relentless in his attacks, his kisses turning sultrier and sloppier with every passing minute. "Say," he groaned, pressing his hips against your behind lustfully, "this is not just a vivid dream, is it? And last night..."

🎨 You hummed in pleasure, thinking about the passionate moments you two had shared. "I don't think so," you answered with a light smirk, finally able to roll onto your back. He was above you immediately, his eyes filled with need and longing, as if he was still not sure if you were really there or just a cruel trick his mind was playing on him.

🎨 His lips found yours in a sweet kiss, filled with adoration and gentleness. He looked down at you again before stealing another kiss - the second of many many more that day.

💢 Usually, Sylus was a night-owl, and sleeping during the day. However, after your first time making love... he couldn't bring himself to leave the bed, and so he found himself between the sheets, with you in his arms. His fingers drew lazy patterns into your skin absentmindedly.

💢 Your head rested on his chest as you snoozed peacefully, fully content and safe in his strong and warm embrace. He was so sweet. So gentle. So loving. And now, with the way he held you, sleep had a tight grip on you. You refused to wake up and leave your cocoon of warmth and comfort.

💢 Eventually though, your mind was slowly pulled back to reality, your lids fluttering a few times as you woke up. "Good morning, kitten," he whispered, his deep voice filling the silence in the best way possible. You looked up at him slowly, only then realizing that he was, in fact, still there with you.

💢 "Morning..." you mumbled, rubbing your eyes gently. "Don't you have work...?" You yawned, propping yourself up slowly to look down at him. Sylus shrugged in response, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I can leave, if you want."

💢 You frowned and snuggled back into his side. "No," you said firmly, wrapping yourself around him slowly. "I was just confused for a second."

💢 He chuckled a bit, wrapping his arms around your form again. "That's what I thought," he smiled, kissing your forehead gently. "Luke and Kieran can deal with whatever's going on today. I'm not leaving this bed until you kick me out."

💢 You quirked a brow, grinning slightly. "Is that a promise?" you asked, nuzzling his neck gently before placing a kiss on his skin, right where his pulse was thrumming. Sylus hummed deeply and closed his eyes, pushing his head back and exposing his neck to you and your advances. You grinned and nibbled his skin, carefully at first... but it didn't take long for you to full-on attack his neck with kisses and love-bites. "Kitten," he droned, rolling onto his back with you on top of him, "I hope you intend to finish what you started."

[mariasont]

hi!!!!

I'm soooo in love your work. bimbo!assistantreader wil always have a special place in my heart!!!

Now i have this of idea that i think can work for either aaron or spencer, but basically bau!reader who kind of always wears the same type of outfit in the field that's always really modest. Buttttt when they kind of like "know" it's just going to be a paperwork day she likes to were skirts... short skirts and Aaron/Spencer are just feral for them...

Can either be fluff of smut... I trust you indefinitely xxx

Short Skirt, Long Day - A.H

a/n: hi hi hi hiiiiiii!!! ugh thank u sm i kinda took this an interesting route so let me know what you think!!!! im also heavily thinking about writing a smutty pt 2 for this but id love to hear everyone’s opinions

masterlist

pairings: perv!aaronhotchner x bau!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, suggestive content, aaron being a straight PERV!!! (im into idk man), aaron imagining scenarios he didn’t shouldn’t at work, idk this is quite different from my usual postings but i kinda fuck with it

wc: 1.4k

Aaron Hotchner loved paperwork day.

Days like these meant the frenetic energy of ringing phones and rapid footsteps is replaced by the soft drone of air conditioning and the occasional rustle of files being shifted. It’s the kind of morning he appreciated—time to breathe, to recalibrate without the air of an active case breathing down his neck.

But that's not why his pulse is thrumming more than steadily beneath his skin.

Hotch glances at the clock on his desk. It's early—too early for most of the team to be here yet, save for a couple agents whose faces barely register in his peripheral vision. His focus is elsewhere, fixed on a singular thought. Or, rather, on a singular person.

You.

Hotch leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as a shameful type of heat rises to his face. It's a little pathetic, he thinks, how predictable he's become—it's not the work that makes these mornings bearable anymore. It's the anticipation.

The knowledge that, any minute now, the elevator doors will part, and you'll step out, wearing something that will completely dismantle his carefully constructed composure.

Hotch had noticed a pattern (of course he did, that was his instinct honed to a razor's edge). In the field, your outfits are a study in practicality: slacks, fitted jackets, muted tones--professional to a T. Nothing flashy, nothing that would draw undue attention. 

But in the office, when the cases are shelved, and the team is left to wade through stacks of paperwork... it's different.

And it drives him insane.

The image takes root before he can stop it: the curve of your thighs, tantalizingly framed by a skirt that seemed designed to test his limits. The way the fabric molds to you when you move, clinging in places that his eyes are all too quick to follow.

Hotch exhales sharply, clearing his throat as if that could somehow clear his mind. It's unprofessional--he knows this, knows better than to let his thoughts stray so far from where they belong but yet…

The ding of the elevator pulls his attention like a magnet, and there you are. His grip on the pen tightens instinctively, the knuckles blanching as his gaze locks on you.

You're wearing that skirt today--black, fitted, and infuriatingly short, hugging your hips in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination.

He tells himself to look away, and for a second, he manages it--his eyes dropping back to his desk, his breath coming out slow and measured. But that reprieve is fleeting. His gaze flicks back before he can stop it, drawn helplessly to the curve of your waist as you laugh at something one of the other agents say.

You're too good. Too sweet. Too damn oblivious to realize what you're doing to him.

And he knows it's wrong—knows he's toeing a line he has no business approaching. But the way his body reacts to you, the pull you have on him, is beyond reason. It's instinctual, raw, and completely out of his control.

He calls out your name. "Could you come in here for a moment?"

You turn, blinking at him with wide, curious eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to grab something for me," he replies, his voice level, though every syllable felt like a tightly coiled spring. He motions towards the cabinet near the corner of the room. "The Marcus file. Bottom shelf."

He was a terrible terrible man.

Without hesitation, you step toward the cabinet, crouching slightly as you begin to sift through the lower shelf. The moment your body lowers, his eyes start trailing down where the hem of your skirt lifts, just barely revealing the soft curve of where your thighs meet your ass. Then, as you bend further, shifting your weight slightly to reach deeper on the shelf, the fabric stretches taut, clinging to your ass in a way that sends a jolt straight through him.

Hotch's throat feels tight, his breathing shallow as he drinks in the sight before him. You're so close, just feet away, and the angle offers him an unobstructed view. The shape of you, the smooth expanse of skin that's always just out of reach in the field, is right there--so achingly close he feels like his chest might explode.

He knows if you dipped any further, your panties would be on display and he couldn’t help but wonder what color you had on.

You’ve always had a meticulous attention to detail, choices leaning towards deliberate but understated at the same time. In the field, you favored muted tones—greys, blacks, navies. But here in the relative safety of the office you allow a little more personality, more femininity.

His mind turns to your preferences—pink, maybe.

Hotch swallows hard, pulse roaring in his ears. The thought gnaws at him, insistent and unrelenting—he needs to know.

“Careful,” he says, feigning concern. “You might need to check further back on the shelf. Sometimes the files get pushed out of sight.”

You glance over your shoulder at him and he swears he could combust. “Further back?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair to appear casual, though his grip on the armrests were anything but. “Yes.”

You turn back to the cabinet, shifting your weight again as you crouch lower, leaning further to search the back of the shelf. The motion sends the bottom of your skirt riding higher, and for a brief, heart stopping moment, the lace of your panties is on full display.

It was a pink barely there strip of fabric.

His mind betrays him, conjuring images he knows he shouldn't entertain. He imagines his hands on you, running over the curve of his hips, gripping your thighs, sliding that damn skirt higher until there's nothing left to hide. The thought of you like this, pliant and completely unaware of the effect you're having on him, makes his pulse pound in his ears. He wonders what you would do if he were to push those panties to the side and slide a finger in you.

You shift again, leaning deeper into the cabinet as your voice drifts back to him, murmuring something about not seeing it. His jaw locks, teeth pressing together as he fights to maintain control. His fingers dig into the armrests of his chair, the leather creaking faintly beneath the strain. It's a futile effort, though; the pressure building in his chest, his body, is relentless.

The heat pools low in his abdomen, simmering and insistent, a sharp pulse of arousal tightening every muscle in his body. He's painfully hard now, the evidence uncomfortably against his slacks, but he doesn't dare move. His mind a blur of want--what he wants to do to you, what he knows he shouldn't do, and the precarious line he's treading just watching you like this.

The tension in his body seems unbearable, and for a fleeting second, he considers how easy it would be to walk over, to let his hand graze your hip, to tilt your chin up so you'd look at him and see the wreckage you've left in your wake. 

But he doesn't. He can't.

Instead, he forces himself to remain still, staying rooted, the self-restraint biting and bitter. 

"Are you sure it's under here? I still don't see it."

Hotch's lips twitch, the smallest shadow of a smirk threatening to break free on his face. He leans forward, feigning surprise as he picks up the file from the corner of his desk.

"Ah," he says, waving the file. "Looks like it's been right here the whole time."

You straighten abruptly, brushing your hands down your skirt and turning towards him with a soft laugh. "Hotch! So I was practically upside down in that cabinet for nothing!"

He shakes his head, giving a small chuckle to match yours. Not for nothing. The satisfaction still simmers low in his chest, a private indulgence he knows you'll never suspect--the movement was far from wasted.

"My mistake."

"Well, I guess we all have our moments. Let me know if there's anything else you need, okay?"

When the door finally closes behind you, he exhales shakily, the breath spilling out like a confession. Leaning back in his chair, he presses his fingers to his temples, his entire body tense with the effort of restraint. He feels unmoored, like a man balancing on the edge of a precipice, one misstep away from losing everything he’s worked so hard to keep under control.

But for now, he’ll settle for watching, for imagining, for wishing—knowing full well that nothing could ever come of it. And yet, as he glances at the door where you’d just been, a part of him wonders how much longer he can hold out.

It’s going to be an impossibly long day—but the most troubling part of all is how much he’s starting to enjoy the torment.

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[winterstelltales]

Coffee and Vanilla

word count: 1k

pairing: zayne x reader

summary: you just can't get enough of zayne's scent

content tags: winter setting, cuddling, loads of kisses

warning: slightly suggestive at the end

a/n: fic was inspired by post by @wolfofcelestia

The air inside the cabin was surprisingly warm. Despite the heavy snow storm raging outside, inside was filled with a cozy silence, only interrupted by the crisp sounds of the wood crackling by the fireplace every now and then. 

 The room was bathed in a pleasant glow, and the scent of fresh snow seemed to linger around, but it wasn’t enough to conceal the sweet smell of hot chocolate and the plate of cookies placed in front of you. 

 You didn’t know what it was, maybe it was your sense of awareness as a hunter that made you pick up all these at once, and you were suddenly filled with an overwhelming feeling that you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t bad, you were partly sure it was because you were overjoyed, but it still left a heavy something inside you.. With nothing to do about it, you tightened your arms around the person you were cuddling with, burying your face further into his neck and took a deep breath. 

 His scent easily conquered everything. With Zayne taking a break from the hospital for a long time in a while, he didn’t smell much like disinfectant and hospital anymore. Sure, it was still there, a faint scent that you hoped would never leave him because you had gotten so used to it and you knew you were going to miss it if it ever disappeared. 

But with his usual scent gone, only the warm sandalwood and touch of sugary scent of pastries remained, though you were certain the latter was because he had stuffed himself up with some unhealthy amount of desserts, justifying it with the excuse that it was the holiday season.

 You indulged him of course, just as he has done countless times in the past when you particularly felt like you didn’t want to follow his doctor’s orders. 

 Zayne didn’t react immediately as always, his brows furrowed a bit, one hand coming up to pat the top of your head as he observed your sudden burst of affection. 

 You both were already cuddling in front of the fireplace, unable to go out because of the sudden snow storm that had occurred. You sat sideways on Zayne's lap, head supported on his broad shoulder while his right hand played with your hands lying on your lap. 

 “What is it?” His gentle voice knocked on the door of your thoughts, his hand coming back up to wrap around your waist.

 But you weren’t capable of giving him an answer, so you took another deep breath and tightened your arms around him more. 

 You weren’t sure if you could consume someone’s scent, but you were desperate for Zayne’s. 

 “It’s not that I don’t love you hugging me, my love, but I’m having trouble breathing,” his voice sounded strained in your ear. This time, you immediately loosened your arms around him, looking up at him with apologetic eyes.

 “Sorry,” you said softly.

 The corners of his mouth turned up, “don't apologize,” he said, his hand coming up to brush a stray hair on your face.

 “Is something bothering you?”

 You stayed silent for a second, then rested your cheek on his chest, feeling the beating of his heart. 

 “No,” you said and lifted your chin, smiling, “You just smell really good.”

 Zayne pursed his lips, the tips of his ears turning red almost immediately. He was never good at receiving compliments, but that didn’t mean you were ever going to stop giving them. 

 He coughed slightly, turning his head away for a bit. 

 You traced his sweater covered chest with your fingers, drawing simple patterns, “Like a little bit of coffee and a little bit of vanilla,” you continued, nosing his slightly red cheek, inhaling his scent deep to your core. His newly shaved face was soft to the touch, and it was getting warm more and more as words left your mouth. 

A smile grazed your lips as you kissed him softly on his ear, making his breath hitched.

Zayne’s hand on your waist tightened, squeezing you in warning. The blanket covering both of you had slided off by now, exposing you to the cabin air. 

“Did you use that sandalwood soap I bought you?” you asked, adjusting yourself somewhat to straddle him. 

Now with your whole body facing him, Zayne had no choice but to look at your face with his arms resting at your sides. Adam's apple bobbed slightly as he swallowed, the gentle movement drawing your attention to his neck.

 “You’re so beautiful,” You said softly, palming his neck with your hand.

You leaned in and pecked his lips, pressing your face against his forehead.

You were certain that even if you lived a thousand lifetimes, you could never fully grasp the depth of Zayne's beauty. It was a wonder that defied time, something you could admire endlessly, yet never quite get enough of.

His hand caught yours in a gentle grip, his flustered state disappearing in a blink of an eye as he stared at you with intense eyes, gaze falling on to your lips, “Not nearly as beautiful as you.”

And suddenly you were aware of everything again, but nothing was quite as alarming as the hard thing resting underneath you. Blinking, you returned your gaze back to Zayne, eyes twinkling with excitement.

 “Oh”

“Oh?” Zayne lifted an eyebrow and before you knew it he was grabbing you by the waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him until everything you could feel was the warmth radiating off him and his hard length resting under you. 

You support yourself by grabbing onto his shoulders, mouth slightly agape as you try to calm yourself down.

Seeing you like that was enough for Zayne, his lips found your neck instantly, peppering your skin with kisses that turn into little bites and sucks. You gasp softly, letting the weight of your body fall onto him. 

One of his hands finds themself under your sweater, calloused fingers trails up your spine, rousing a path of goosebumps as you lean more into his embrace.

“It looks like I've been far too lenient with you,” Zayne’s voice low and resonant, sending soft vibrations against your neck as he spoke. 

His nose presses against your skin, inhaling and tracing a path on your neck with his teeth before whispering, “Since you seem to enjoy teasing me so much, maybe it’s time I return the favor.”

dividers by @rookthornesartistry

[scrunchie-face]

I wrote this this year on the feast of the Immaculate Conception after Mass:

“Look, mama! Jesus on the cross is swaddled, like when he was a baby!”

While I appreciate her commitment to being quiet in church, our four year old is still mastering the art of whispering loudly enough to be heard when she has something to tell me. So after multiple “whats” and “I-can’t-hear-you-when-you-whisper-away-from-mes,” I finally understood what she was trying to tell me.

For whatever reason, on this morning, at Mass for the Immaculate Conception, the loincloth Jesus wears on the crucifix had caught her eye. What most adults probably dismiss as a mere contrivance of modesty, immediately signified something more to her, and I felt the breath catch in my throat. In the midst of the Liturgy of the Eucharist, I only had time to say “wow. Yeah. Let’s talk about that later.”

Now I’m sitting in my mostly-decorated living room, and the selfsame four year-old is building with magnatiles. I don’t know if she remembers her observation, but I do.

I am reminded of Palm Sunday of 2022. That year, the Passion narrative came from the Gospel according to Luke, and near the end of the reading it says that “they wrapped his body in linen cloth and laid him in the tomb.” It perhaps does not take a genius to make the connection that struck me in that moment, but it had certainly never struck me before as it did then. Luke, elegant storyteller that he is, drew an almost identical parallel to the very beginning of the story: “they wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger.”

I’ve spent a lot of time this year meditating upon the will of God, the perfection of His plan, the inevitability of His grace. And I love the way that this simple narrative parallel in scripture points toward that. I am reminded of the very end of our scriptures, in the book of Revelation:

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.”

All that is, was, and ever will be is caught up in Him. The child swaddled in the manger. The man hanging on the cross.

So at the end of the old year, and the beginning of the new, we collect all our accomplishments, all our joys, all our sorrows, all our failures and limitations, and we lay them at His feet. The tender swaddling clothes of our joy, the dreadful burial bindings of our sorrow. All these are one in the One who made all things and draws them ever unto Himself.

Losing my mind over the gospel of Luke being like “they wrapped his body in linen cloth and laid him in a tomb” after the beginning of the story being “they wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger” like

I’m absolutely feral

[bunni-v1]

Hnnghh christmas Lighter smut where reader is dressed in nothing but a long ribbon and bow bc he’s been a good boy this year

🍓Did u read my mind? Get outta there… jkjk, but seriously this is EXACLTY what I was thinking about. I really can’t dedicate the time to a full fic, which breaks my little gay heart, but imagine with me if you would… (this is a full fic btw i fucking lied to you and myself)

Tw: Nsfw; kinda rough (not too rough); UNEDITED ITS HORRENDOUS

Mdni

Christmas with the Sons of Calydon is pretty atypical. They have their own traditions that most New Eirduians would scoff at, but they’re rather important to those who live in these parts. Drinking, singing together (usually drunkenly and offkey), taking bike rides out to start a fire and literally burn away past regrets of the year, and of course fights — plenty of fights.

You weren’t exactly a fan of the fighting part, usually meant more work for you to do, but Lighter always seemed to have fun. Obviously he did, he never lost — he hardly broke a sweat for the most part. And he loved showing off, especially if you were there to watch him. Everything else was mostly normal, though… a little odd but custom made to your little ragtag group, and you loved it.

It felt warm, cozy, like family. They passed out gifts, most of them hand made or incredibly thoughtful since money was scarce for most of you. Lighter had gotten you a (rather expensive) bracelet with your and his initials engraved on it. It was sweet, and unexpected from the guy who pretended like the holiday was nothing for the months leading up to it.

It made you melt on the inside and feel nice and warm. However… his nonchalance about the holiday cause you one… teeny tiny, itty bitty problem. You had no clue what to get him, and you hadn’t gotten him anything — time had run out and no one would give you any good hints.

His insistence that you didn’t need to get him anything in return made your stomach ache. It was hard to focus on his fight when your head was rushing with ways to rectify the horrific mistake you’d made quickly. The red ribbon of the jewelry box wrapped around your fingers tightly, then unwound as you mulled over your options.

You could get him something for his bike, but you’d have to drive to the city and it’s unlikely he’d let you go without him — that’s if the stores were even open this late on a holiday. Maybe you could craft up something quick and easy, if you could get back to your place there surely would be something, but… that felt cheap. Especially compared to the bracelet.

“That ribbon’s pretty,” Caesar says next to you, drawing you from your thoughts, “Must’ve been one real fancy place he went to for ya.”

You sigh, leaning back against the wall a little, looking at the ribbon as you twisted it around, “I’m sure it was. He’s so hopeless sometimes.”

“Only because you’re so sweet on him,” She teases, nudging your shoulder lightly.

A laugh huffs out of your chest, then an idea strikes you. The ribbon is pretty. You actually had some like it back at your place, stored away from last years festivities. You twist the ribbon one last time, and then you grin, wide and wild. Lighter catches your eye as he socks his opponent in the jaw, smirking at you like he’d won a prize.

“Hey, Caesar,” You hum, turning to your friend who seemed a little uneasy at your expression, “How long do you think you can keep him distracted for me.”

She hums, watching him thoughtfully, “I’ll buy ya fifteen minutes — wait, why?”

“You’ll hear later~” You hum with a wink, and practically skip back to your place, leaving Caesar alone to deal with your very adrenaline filled boyfriend on her own.

It takes you half the time Caesar said she could get you to find the damn ribbon, and the other half is spent fighting for your life to get the thing on and look at least a little sexy. You tried to recall old articles you’d read on bondage and shibari, but it was hard to do without a guide. You’d managed to get all the good bits wrapped up and hidden, with a few extra crosses to make it look pretty.

You don’t get a chance to check because you hear Lighters heavy footsteps outside the door nearly as soon as you’ve tied the bow comfortably around your neck. Your able to sort’ve arrange yourself seductively on the bed for him just as the front door open and he calls out to you. You could tell he was annoyed from his voice alone. He never liked it when you left his shows early.

“Caesar told me you headed back here,” He called, boots thumping as he threw them off, “We’re you not enjoying the show?”

It’s a tease, you know it is, but there was an underlying annoyance in his voice that sent a tingle up your spine. He pushes the bedroom door open incredibly slowly, to the point you think he’s trying to surprise you with something. You have the gall to feel stupid for a moment right before his eyes land on you, and he stops at he takes in the sight.

There is an audible shudder as his eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline. He takes his sunglasses off, revealing those pretty green eyes that rake in every inch of you with hunger. Then, he smirks, shoving the bedroom door closed with his shoulder already working his gloves and jacket off to the floor. Forgotten without a second thought. The rest of his clothes follow quickly after.

“Merry Christmas!” You cheer, though you’re more nervous than happy. He clearly likes it, according to the quickly growing tent in his pants and how fast he is to strip himself, but he’s a little too quiet for your liking.

He sinks onto the mattress in front of you, hands ghosting around the bright red ribbon. Like if he touches it, it’ll all fall apart in his grasp. He traces each inch of it with careful practiced restraint, following the fabrics flow across your body until he remembers that you are under the fabric and he lands on your face.

His eyes soften when you smile nervously up at him, fingers tracing the apple of your cheek with such admiration it nearly makes you cry. “You like it?” You ask softly, unsure of yourself.

He scoffs like you’re stupid for wondering, “This might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

It draws a genuine laugh out of you, which he follows with his own as he comes down to nuzzle your cheek with his nose. Then a soft kiss that trails down to your lips, easing you into a slow careful dance of love and passion.

He readjusts your position so carefully, you almost don’t notice he’s doing it until he’s between your legs. Pressing them open then pressing his dick to the ribbons wrapping up your folds from him. You’re already dripping, the adrenaline from earlier enough to get you going, but the added friction just makes it worse. You’d never be able to reuse this stuff, that’s for sure.

His hands glide over your stomach, following the ribbon with lazy easy until he’s found the one covering you from him. His thumbs slide under the pieces, rubbing over the flesh of your abdomen gently. It’s then that he pulls away, a string of saliva keeping you connected as he presses his forehead to yours.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” He murmurs quietly, “You could’ve given me a smile and I would’ve been happy.”

You shy away, “Well… I almost didn’t have anything to get you, but your gift, mmm, inspired me.”

He chuckles at you, reaching down to run his dick against your still covered folds. The silky fabric oddly making everything feel more intense. “I can see that. Very cute, by the way.”

“I know, thank you,” You hum, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he presses the two of you back into a laying position, “Now are you gonna unwrap your present, or are you gonna keep teasing yourself.”

A roll of the eyes and another smirk, “Y’know, I’ve never been a fan of ruining the wrapping paper. Shits expensive… so how about we go nice and slow.”

As he says that, he slides his dick between the ribbon, right up against your throbbing clit. You let out a surprised sound, quickly melting into sighs of pleasure and he fucks into the ribbon. Each push and pull stimulates your aching pussy into gushing out more for him, clenching on nothing as he fucks himself against you at a leisurely pace.

You take the chance to look down, moaning out as he head of him touches your thigh. The sight is something you’d see in a porno. Lighter follows your eyes, smiling to himself when he catches you practically going cross eyed at the sight.

“We look good together, don’t we, sugar?” He purrs. A rare nickname, sweet and extra praiseworthy — just like he thinks you are.

You nod along with him, fluttering your eyes back to his with a dumb little smile. Each drag of his dick makes your toes curl and nails dig into his broad shoulders. He sighs at the sensation, pressing kisses into your skin to quiet himself up. He’d rather listen to you, after all, and this was a gift for him.

His fingers begin to crawl up your body, dancing along the ribbon excitedly. They make sure to stop and tweak your nipples through the fabric, humming when he feels they’re sufficiently hard and sensitive under his touch. Then, finally, they reach the neatly tied bow around your neck.

The tug at it, gently unwrapping it from your neck and pulling it away with ease. Replacing the red of it with his tongue, licking and sucking new marks into the flesh. Your hips stutter against his, and he lets out a groan, squeezing your tit as warning. You whine, but don’t fight him anymore. His hands returning to unraveling the ribbon, pressing into the skin revealed until he is the only thing keeping the ribbon and his dick pressed against you.

You pout a little when he pulls away, pussy aching for friction once his dick is gone. You feel it clench as it looks for him, and god it makes you feel like a whore. He takes your hands from his shoulder and leans over you to tie them to the bed board above your head. You can feel how wet your were at the wrists, especially when he kisses them reassuringly.

“I love you tied up,” He hums, “You’re so pretty when you can’t do anything.”

You pout up at him, but he doesn’t stay to admire the look long, leaning over to the bedside table to grab the condoms. It occurs to you, in a state of lust driven stupor, that he shouldn’t have to fuck his christmas gift with a condom on.

“Ah, wait—“ He raises an eyebrow at you, hand just inches away from the condoms, “Would you wanna do it raw?”

He blinks at you, again surprised in the same way he was when he first saw you. “Are you serious?”

“We don’t have to—“ You quickly try to rectify the situation, but he cuts you off.

“No, no, we definitely have to,” He shakes his head, closing the drawer with one swift motion, “You’re trying to kill me out here, aren’t you?”

You shake your head, but he’s not listening as he pulls you up into the position he likes most. Legs over his shoulders, body bent in half so he can fuck you hard and fast. He gives you a few seconds to adjust to the position, then he’s pressing his dick into you at a painfully slow pace.

It’s because he’s just so big, he always has to go slow, but you wish he’d just fuck you through the pain right now. The stretch is perfect as always, and you suck him in like it’s nothing with how wet you already were.

He cusses when he finally bottoms out, pressing his face into the side of your neck. You can feel his hot breath fan against your skin, tingling deliciously. “Fuck you’re always so tight. I’m never gonna get used to it, sugar.”

You hum, though you’re in no better shape. Shivering and shuddering every inch, and still quaking as he sits still inside you. You play with his hair to distract from how hot you are, and how you wish he’d make you hotter.

He gives himself a moment to calm down, then he presses a kiss you your cheek, readjusts you just a little so your muscles don’t tense up, and then he moves. The first three thrusts are slow and easy, then he starts to slam into you hard.

“Oh fuck—“ You cry out as the deafening smack of his hips into your ass rings out across the room.

The pace he sets is brutal and unrelenting, you were hoping for it all night. The unspent adrenaline from his earlier fights coming right back to fuck you so good you know you won’t be walking tomorrow. Each slap of his balls against your quickly reddening ass is accompanied by a stifled moan.

He watches you with an intensity you weren’t aware he was capable of, eyes drinking in every single inch of your expression. He looked crazed, but that’s what made it so hot. He was obsessed with every little look, every little sound that left you.

“Don’t be quiet, sugar,” He hums, pushing two of his fingers along your bottom row of teeth to force the sounds out.

“They’ll hear—“

“Let ‘em,” He dismisses, “They know you’re mine anyway, who cares.”

You really couldn’t argue with that, especially not when he shifts ever so slight to hit your g-spot head on. A salacious moan rips out of your throat, and your sure Caesar has figured out what you were up to earlier from that alone. He doesn’t stop ripping sounds out of you, though, continuing his brutal pace and hitting that spot so well you think you’re seeing stars.

The build up to your orgasm is so quick you hardly have time to realize it’s happening. One second you’re fine the next your throwing your head back and moaning like a whore.

“Lighter- Baby, I’m— fuck me- god I’m gonna cum, Lighter.” You admit, way too loud for your liking.

He hums, seeming to switch gears and fuck you faster somehow, “Go ahead, I’ve got you. Lemme feel you cum for me.”

You nod, chest rising and falling rapidly as start litter your vision. You think you nearly pass out, but Lighters hard thrusts fuck you through your orgasm. You squeeze him so tight, like you’re trying to milk his own out of him. You want him to fill you up, want to feel his warm cum deep in your belly. Want to see it drip down your thighs and pool onto the bed when he pulls out.

“Cum inside, please.” You beg.

“Fuuuck… ‘re you—“

You nod, “I need it, please cum in me. ‘S part of your present.”

He groans, fisting the sheets next to your head, “Suagr, you’re fuckin’ killin’ me.”

Always one to please, Lighter does exactly as you ask. Filling you to the brim with his thick hot cum. You revel in his moans, and only slightly wish you could curl your nails into his shoulders to leave another christmas gift for the morning.

He eases you into a more comfortable position before collapsing on top of you. His weight is welcome against your spent body, as are the wet kisses he presses into your sore skin. He unties your hand with one of his, and you quickly wrap them up into his hair.

“I love you,” He mumbles into your shoulder, “So much. You’re the best gift a guy can ask for.”

You giggle at the praise, “I love you too, Lighter.”

[gokyrts]

Patrón!Carlos | C.S. 55

18+ | warnings: mentions of drugs, cartel politics, mentions of kidnapping, d/s dynamics, finger sucking, dom!carlos, unprotected p in v, spanking, oral (m receiving), slight degradation and humiliation, light ass play, dirty talk

Summary: you needed a favour, a favour only the leader of the local drug cartel could grant you, so you went to beg for it and you bit more than you could chew

Author’s note: MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM YOURS TRULY!! This is a gift for all my lovely supporters. if you’ve liked Mafia AU, you’re definitely gonna like this 🤭 welcome to Narcos AU with Carlos Sainz !

wc: 4.3k

In case you’re unfamiliar with the plot and terms of Narcos, here’s a little vocabulary with terms that are used throughout the story:

el patrón — (noun) boss of a drug cartel

sicarios — (noun, pl.) high ranking members of a cartel, armed, usually on motorcycles

DEA — (noun) drug enforcement administration; U.S. federal office tasked with combatting drug trafficking

The air outside the compound was still, heavy with the heat of late afternoon. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of laughter echoed, mingling with the crackle of a lit cigar. You sat alone, staring at the rim of your glass, swirling the amber liquid inside. The burn of it no longer registered—it had stopped doing that weeks ago. You hated this place. Hated the velvet couches, the chandeliers, the lingering stench of power and fear. But it had become your world.

Your sister was safe. That was what mattered. That was what you kept telling yourself.

Still, the memory of the first step you’d taken into this life clung to you like smoke, no matter how many times you tried to shove it away. And, as always, it returned unbidden:

The air was just as oppressive that day, tightening around your throat, pressing against your chest. But not nearly as oppressive as the gazes and words of the sicarios you encountered when you came to beg for a favor. Their eyes on you like you were a piece of meat delivered to their door.

“Move along, sweetheart,” one of them said, making your stomach churn.

“I need to speak with señor Sainz.” your assertiveness was a joke to them, seeing nothing more than a defenseless animal.

“Did you hear that?” he’d said, turning to the other guard with exaggerated mockery. “Little mama here wants to speak to el patrón.”

Their laughter had stung, but you’d swallowed your pride. This wasn’t about you. It was about your sister. It was about survival.

“Please,” you’d whispered, your voice cracking just enough to reveal the desperation in your chest. “It’s important.”

The sicarios had exchanged amused glances before one stepped forward, his expression darkening with a hint of suspicion. “Es importante, ah?” he’d asked, the firearm in his hands a reminder of who had control. “How so?”

Your fists had tightened, your body screaming to run, but you had stood your ground. “I need his help. My… my sister has been kidnapped.”

The two men exchanged a glance, this one colder, heavier. Without another word, they had stepped aside, opening the door to the building with a mockingly polite gesture. “Muy bien, let’s see what the boss has to say to this… little request.”

They had flanked you as you walked down the dim corridor, the echo of their heavy boots swallowing your lighter steps. The long hallway felt like a gauntlet, and each step seemed to draw you further into a cage you wouldn’t be able to escape. They led you to an unassuming door, another guard stationed outside. A brief knock sounded, a whisper you hadn’t caught, and then you were ushered inside.

Carlos Sainz’s office had been every bit as ostentatious as you’d imagined. The room reeked of wealth: leather chairs, imported bourbon, and a portrait of the man himself staring down from the wall. But none of it had held your attention for long. Your gaze had locked onto Carlos the moment you saw him.

He’d been seated behind his desk, looking as though he owned not just the room but the air you were breathing. His expression had been unreadable, save for the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Before you could speak, one of the guards shoved you forward. “I’m not armed!” you’d snapped, your voice sharp with indignation.

The guard’s rough hands searched you anyway, brushing over your clothes with no effort to hide his smugness. Carlos, meanwhile, had leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, watching the scene like it was some form of theater staged for his amusement.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he’d said, his smirk widening as his gaze swept over you. “You seem to have a sharp tongue on you, señorita.”

You’d forced yourself to endure and once the guard was satisfied, you had been given the space to speak.

“I—I need your help, señor. They… they took my little sister. I don’t know who else to turn to.”

He hadn’t reacted at first. Instead, he’d reached for a glass, pouring himself a measure of whiskey with deliberate slowness. The sound of the liquid hitting the glass filled the room like a mocking echo.

“You came to ask for a favor?” he’d said finally, his tone light, as though you were discussing the weather. He hadn’t given you a chance to respond. “I remember you owing a favor to me, little one.”

Your throat had tightened. Of course, he remembered. A debt passed down from your father, inherited like a curse. You’d known the weight of it would crush you someday. You just hadn’t expected it to be this soon.

“Sí, señor,” you’d said, voice cracking, fighting the urge to wipe your sweaty palms on your skirt. “I still owe you. But I need this, please. She was taken by men from the other side. I-I don’t want them to hurt her or worse…”

Carlos had tilted his head, studying you as though you were some strange creature that had wandered into his den.

“So… you expect me to solve more of your family’s problems, sí?” His words were light, almost teasing, but the sharp edge in his gaze had made your stomach twist.

Your knees had felt weak, but you’d pressed on. “Please,” you’d said again, the word tasting like ash on your tongue. “I—I will do anything.”

At that, his amusement had deepened. The room had gone still.

“Anything…?” he’d repeated, his voice dropping just enough to make you shiver. One of the guards had snickered, but Carlos had silenced him with a click of his tongue. Then he’d mentioned for the guards to exit, leaving only the two of you in the room.

With deliberate slowness, he’d risen from his chair, rounding the desk until he stood in front of you. He’d been taller than you remembered, his presence overwhelming.

“Do you know what that word means, little one?” he’d asked, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you know what it costs to ask me for a favor?”

You’d lowered your gaze, the weight of his stare crushing you.

“I… I will pay the price,” you’d whispered.

Carlos had tilted his head, lifting your chin upward with surprising gentleness, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Careful,” he’d murmured, his tone soft but laced with warning. “There are men who would take this as an invitation...”

You’d stiffened, your skin crawling under his touch.

“But I’m not one of them…not today.” he’d stepped back with a smirk, allowing you to breathe again.

“Muy bien,” he’d said, returning to his desk. “I’ll deal with these men and bring your sister back. But… from this moment on, you’re mine. Your time, your life. When I call, you answer. No questions. No hesitation. Understood?”

You’d hesitated, just for a moment, but Carlos didn’t let you. His voice had turned sharp, cutting through your resistance like a blade.

“Understood?”

“Yes,” you’d said, voice shaking. “Yes… I understand.”

He’d smirked, satisfied. “Good. Go home, little one. Get some rest. You’ll need it.”

…

You closed your eyes as the memory finished replaying, pressing the glass back to your lips, its contents dwindling fast. Anticipation brewed in your gut mingling with the expensive imported whiskey. He has called again and you answered, per agreement.

Over time you learned to ignore the hungry stares from his wolves, their sleazy whispers, and dirty hands adjusting their pants when you passed them in the halls of the safehouse. It made you sick. But this was part of the price you had to pay. The price you agreed to pay for the safety of your sister’s life, and the doom of your own.

“Princesita,”

Your eyes snapped open at his voice — smooth, silky, like the liquor you just downed. The familiar burning sensation returned, your body starting to smolder again. You swallowed the bitterness and turned on your hell, the dress you were told to wear flowing around your form.

Carlos regarded you with a long gaze, from the shoes you picked to wear, across your hips and waist, where the dress tightly hugged your soft curves, to your face, lingering on your painted lips.

He nodded in approval, beckoning you closer with a finger.

Teaching you obedience was his favorite, along with making you regret every life decision you ever made, but especially the deal you made with him.

His thumb found your bottom lip as you stepped closer, the red on your lips pulling him in like a bull following its toreador. The rough surface of his finger swiped over the carefully applied lipstick, smudging it and dragging it down your chin. A flicker of amusement appeared in his eyes at your ruined look, his favorite look on you. His thumb slid off your chin, leaving a light red stain.

Beautiful, he thought, before retracting his hand only to notice the smudge on his finger.

He pressed the thumb back against your mouth.

“Clean it.”

And your body burned, the whiskey in your gut the fuse and his command the spark. The finger was thrust into your mouth with zero patience, the taste of ash and metal hitting your tongue along the unmistakable sweetness of your cherry red lipstick. As much as the taste made you retch, it was addicting.

First lesson in obedience — do as you’re told.

Your tongue wrapped around the digit, swirling to catch the pad of his thumb and sucking it clean. Carlos rewarded you with a hum of approval, pressing down harder on your tongue, forcing your mouth to open up further.

Your jaw gave way, letting Carlos in on the sight of his saliva-covered thumb in your mouth, your tongue playing around with it. He pulled back, dragging his finger out of your mouth but not without wiping it slightly against your lip, enhancing the redness of it with a top coat.

“Good girl… good ruined girl.”

Heat pooled between your legs, forcing an involuntary hum from your throat. Weeks ago you would resist, deny, and deflect — you didn’t want him to notice, because he noticed everything — but his praise was like a switch flipped in your brain.

However, as fast as he praised, he also did the exact opposite.

“Go clean your face, I’m not letting you accompany me looking like that.” he spat, stepping aside so you could go wipe the mess he made on your face. The oval mirror in his office was nearly as familiar as the face you saw in it. The flashbacks were instant when you looked into it, images of him, of you, in positions he forced you into. Carlos liked making you watch, it etched itself in your memory better, he said.

You squeezed your thighs together as you wiped the ruined lipstick off of your chin, similar redness blooming on your cheeks. Carlos smirked knowingly, standing a few feet behind you. He could be in the background, not even touching you but your body was aflame for him, your mind playing tricks on you, triggers he put in your head setting off. You reapplied the lipstick, the phantom feeling of his finger on them almost making you miss the intimacy.

There was a knock on the door, signaling your ride was there. Armed guards escorted you to an awaiting car. A small convoy left the compound to ensure the patrón’s safety. A meeting with the other Narcos wasn’t something to underestimate. Light chatter took part in the car you were not part of. They didn’t need your opinion. You were there as a pretty face, nothing more, nothing less.

As you approached the hotel where the meeting would be held, the oppressive air started clawing at your lungs again. The delicate power balance you felt in the atmosphere was unnerving, ready to tip over in any direction. You and Carlos were patted down before entering. It was agreed that this meeting would be weapon-free. If anything was to go down, you���d be fighting with your bare hands.

The hotel was grand, smelling of the same filthy richness that Carlos’ office did. Your presence caught eyes. A woman, a pretty woman, here? Just as you learned to ignore the stares and comments of Carlos’ sicarios*, you avoided those of the other men, asking if you were lost or looking for a good time. The tension only heightened as you neared the entered the conference room and Carlos felt the need to remind you of your place. He caught you by the elbow, pulling you back against him, his lips against your ear. “You’re here to keep me company, not to speak. Understood?”

Your breath hitched, his voice, so close, sent shivers down your back. “Sí, señor.”

Carlos was satisfied enough with your response and let you go, stepping around you and opening the door. Your smaller form was hidden behind Carlos’ broad back as you entered, the other Narcos only catching sight of you as you walked along the enormous glass table.

Without looking up, you uttered a quiet ‘Buenos dias, señores.’ That was the only time you were allowed to speak.

Behind the clouds of smoke from cigars and cigarettes, the Narcos recognized a woman. They exchanged glances, whispers, scoffs but nothing you wouldn’t be used to already. Despite their visible disapproval, no one dared speak up.

Carlos sat at the head of the table, as he was the organizer of the meeting, leaving you a small seat behind him, just to further emphasize you were not part of the negotiations.

The meeting started but not much has reached your ears throughout, selectively more than not. The Narcos discussed new routes, skirmishes with the DEA, feuds over territory, nothing you could be a part of anyway.

You were picking on your nails when one of the older gentlemen mentioned the neighborhood you grew up in.

“…a possible lab location, routes go out here and through this way,”

His fat finger was pointing to a map, showing what in his mind was a new business idea the others would approve of. For a moment you were taken into your childhood home, playing with your sister on the front porch. It was nice, safe but you always saw men linger around, men who had DEA badges on their belts. Still thinking you were in your mind, you murmured. “Yeah, right into the DEA’s hands…”

Silence.

Feeling a full body chill, you looked up, slowly, each tilt of your head further revealed more shocked and angry expressions of the Narcos.

The man whose idea you challenged leaned back and looked at Carlos in disbelief.

“Carlos, who is this? Did you bring a secretary? Are you into females advising you now?”

Your heart nearly stopped, eyes widening as the weight of your little comment hit you.

“Why did you bring a woman into the meeting anyway? Now she’s thinking she’s one of us.” Another man sneered as all gazes turned to Carlos to watch his reaction.

Whatever he was thinking, one could not tell. His eyes flit briefly to you and then back, but you did notice his jaw clenching, a subtle show of his anger. But he masked it well, leaning back in his seat.

“She’s not one of us, but she’s right. Think about it.”

Carlos’ response had the Narcos stunned a second time that night. They turned to one another, murmuring amongst themselves, considering the situation. But no one was stunned more than you. He saved you…he acknowledged your opinion, among those he trusted the least but had to respect the most and vice versa.

You shifted in your seat, suddenly on alert and aware of what was being discussed. With bated breath, you watch the meeting conclude and the drug lords pour out of the conference room. Some regarded you with disgust, others with interest, some with caution but you would be in the meeting minutes of everyone who attended.

When the last of the traffickers left, the atmosphere of the room shifted. Carlos was quiet, too quiet for your liking. His fingers drummed against the glass table, the echo loud in the empty room. His head tilted to the side and you saw his jaw lock in place before he spoke.

“Are you the expert on routes now?” His tone was calm and cold, the kind that makes you want to huddle for warmth. It wasn’t a question for you to answer. A loud warning despite the pitch in his voice, but you knew this was more dangerous than if he’d yelled. “What did I tell you about speaking up?” his words had bite now.

“I-I didn’t mean to… I was just— you said I was right though! I grew up in that neighborhood! If you let them set up a lab there, the DEA would be onto them and you’d be the one cleaning up the mess.”

“Oh? You think you saved me?” he chuckled but there was no humor in it. “Do not think this is how you repay favors, little princess.”

You averted his gaze, the taste of forced submission bitter on your tongue. Your palms were sweating again and you had to wipe them on your dress this time. Carlos watched you, the intensity in his eyes threatening to light the fire inside you again and he knew.

The sound of the snapping of his fingers was loud in the room, making you look up at him again.

“Come here.”

First lesson in obedience — do as you’re told.

You got up on shaky legs, taking a few short strides to Carlos’ side. Your tongue swiped over your bottom lip in anticipation, catching the cherry red lipstick he had given you a taste of before.

“Over the table, princesa…”

The glass table felt cold over your thighs and stomach, the dress you wore riding up as you bent over in front of him. You heard him sigh, the sound filling you with more delicious uncertainty. You felt his large hand on the back of your thigh, the rough callouses contrasting against the gentle caresses he gave you.

“This room was full of men who would shoot you for even looking at them wrong…” He spoke with softness that made you almost comfortable against the table like this was a fatherly scolding. Except it was.

Smack.

His palm landed against the back of your thigh, forcing air out of your lungs.

“And you thought you could just come in and play queen?” Carlos continued, his voice dropping an octave as he pulled your dress up, revealing your bare ass.

Smack.

The handprint on your ass cheek stung, its red outline hot to the touch as he rubbed his fingers over it. You cried out as he delivered the next smack to your other cheek.

Your eyes squeezed shut with the force he used, an involuntary moan slipping from your lips. He fisted his other hand in your hair, pulling your head back. His lips were against your ear again.

“I have every right to throw you to them… to let them devour you till there’s nothing but bones… but,” he trailed off, a strange occurrence, stretching the moment and breathing fire to your insides.

“You’re mine.”

Your head landed against the glass table as he let go of your hair, the thud making you groan. His hands trailed back down, catching against the waistband of your underwear and pulling it down. You gasped as the cold air hit your soaked pussy, the undergarment landing around your ankles. Carlos grabbed at your ass cheek, squeezing and spreading you to him.

“Ah… I’m beginning to think you like this, princesa.” His tone was mocking as his index finger slid through the wetness making your hips jerk. Your neediness amused him, almost as much as your fear.

The clinking sound of his belt undoing only made you squeeze your thighs together, searching for friction despite how wrong it felt. But the smoldering need in your gut was stronger than your moral code. Your thighs spread slightly, welcoming him. You could hear a faint chuckle behind you, your willingness nothing short of amusement to Carlos.

He nudged the tip of his cock against your slit, coating himself in the slickness he was the cause of. Just like all those times before, Carlos didn’t wait, he took what he wanted. Always.

The first thrust pushed you hard against the glass table and stole air from your lungs. You never got used to his size, the stretch always stung a little, the force of his thrusts always left your hips aching the next day and you knew you’d be feeling the same later.

He hissed, forcing himself to the hilt before pulling back and in again, setting a steady pace. His large hands gripped your hips, keeping you pinned between him and the table. You knew there would be bruises, bruises you’d hide, bruises he’d expose. Regrets you’d have to face one way or another.

Carlos pressed one hand against the small of your back, making you arch, your ass pushing back against his hips.

“That’s it…that’s it,” he murmured, looking down, your ass bouncing off his hips a mesmerizing sight. As your cheeks spread further apart, his eyes fell to your tight hole, and Carlos felt an itch he could not help but scratch. His hand slid down, his thumb pressing against it, feeling you clench around him.

He growled, pressing a little harder, testing your reaction. When you whined and clenched again, he knew he found a sweet spot.

“Fuck, you like it, princesa? You like when I play with your tight little ass?”

Your insides were molten, your resolve and pride burned to a crisp. Even your unspoken protests evaporated right on your tongue from the heat. “Yes…fuck, yes!” you panted out, feeling the knot in your stomach coil.

Carlos grinned, his thumb staying where it was, relishing in your walls fluttering even tighter around him, pushing him closer to the edge. He picked up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

“Such a dirty little thing… you want it? Tell me you want it, princesa.” You knew he was getting close when his mouth spewed the filthiest words, looking to get off on your reactions.

Your tongue nearly lolled out of your mouth, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. You knew what he wanted to hear and you gave in.

“Please,”

Carlos bit his lip, groaning as you begged for him, the act alone making his cock twitch. “Again, let me hear you.” You felt his chest press against your back, pushing you impossibly closer to the table to the point you thought it would break.

“P-Please…” your voice was louder this time, enough to the man above you. He grunted in satisfaction, his pace faltering before he spilled himself inside you. His hips stilled, but the weight of him continued to bruise your smaller body.

Carlos took a moment before he pulled out, panting, the grip on your hip easing. Your knees bucked slightly with exhaustion and Carlos, thinking himself merciful, grabbed at your elbow, pulling you up. You looked up at him but the sight of the cunning smile on his face told you that this was far from over. He yanked you in his direction and you ungracefully landed on your knees, the impact making you whine. Carlos snorted with laughter, adoring the sight of your pathetic self beneath him. He stepped closer to you and you lifted your head to meet his gaze, instead, you were met with the sight of his still-hard cock, now glistening with your mixed juices.

“Clean it…” His bottom lip twitched slightly, along with his eyebrow, taunting you as he breathed deeply. He pushed your limits, used you to his heart’s content, all because he could. Each little request a test to see if you’d break and disobey. But the moment your lips wrapped around him, his hands were back in your hair.

“Fuck— good girl,” the overstimulation made him groan, tightening his hold on your hair. You licked at him obediently, the taste salty on your tongue. He revered in the skill of your mouth, praising it as you worked. Every gag made him coo in a mocking tone and when you pulled off, he didn’t hesitate to take the reins. He took hold of his cock, his other hand in your hair, and dragged it over your cheek, across your face, a sick grin spreading across his lips as he watched you squeeze your eyes tightly so none of the mess would get there. He knew the smell would cling to your sweet skin, that was why he did it. He pulled back to look at his work.

The sight of your makeup ruined, cheeks stained, now with the added smell of him on you. Perfect. Carlos grinned, moving to tuck himself back in his suit pants.

“Now, that’s a pretty slut. Come on, let’s go…”

…

want more patrón!Carlos? lemme know in my askbox!! I plan on writing more for this AU and would love to know your thoughts on it<3

2024 @ gokyrts . Do not distribute or translate my work on other sites.

[24galaxies]

My Home

Story line:- Azriel is sitting next to Elain as you sit by the fireplace reading. You’ve been staying with Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand for the past two months in Velaris. You’re a mortal but Rhysand says you have different abilities that no mortal should be able to have. For example, winnowing or teleporting. Azriel is in love with Elain Archeron even though Elain already has a mate.

Azriel x Reader

The crackling of the fireplace was the only sound that filled the sitting room. It should’ve been comforting—warmth wrapping around me like a favorite blanket—but tonight, it felt oppressive. Maybe it was because of him.

Azriel sat across from me, his form sharp and precise in the soft firelight, every inch of him exuding the kind of quiet power that left me breathless. As usual, his focus wasn’t on me. He was next to her—Elain Archeron. The golden one. The one with a mate.

I closed my book for the third time in as many minutes, unable to focus with the two of them so close. It wasn’t that they were doing anything inappropriate—Azriel wouldn’t, and Elain…well, she didn’t seem to notice his lingering looks. But I noticed. I always noticed.

I hated how it made me feel. A bitterness that lodged itself in my chest, turning my heart into something small and sharp. I wanted to tell myself it didn’t matter, that Azriel could love Elain if he wanted. But it wasn’t just love. It was something deeper. Something quieter.

And that made it worse.

I stole another glance, careful to keep my movements subtle. Elain was speaking to him, her voice soft and melodic. Whatever she said made Azriel smile—not a big, broad grin like Cassian’s, but a small, fleeting thing. I hated that I wanted to be the one to pull that smile from him.

“Y/N.”

The sound of my name snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to find Azriel’s hazel eyes locked onto mine. My heart skipped, the intensity of his gaze startling me.

“You’re frowning,” he said, his voice low.

I blinked, scrambling to compose myself. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he insisted, tilting his head slightly. “Something wrong?”

It wasn’t fair. That look, that tone—like he cared. Like I was more than just a mortal girl who happened to land in their world.

“No,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

His gaze lingered, like he didn’t quite believe me, but then Elain spoke again, drawing his attention back to her.

And just like that, I was invisible again.

I didn’t stay in the room much longer. The fire was too warm, the tension too thick, and I needed air. Slipping outside, I welcomed the crisp night breeze that kissed my skin. Velaris was beautiful at night, the stars scattered across the sky like shards of silver.

It had been two months since I arrived here, and I still wasn’t sure if I belonged. Rhysand had insisted I was special, though I wasn’t sure what that meant. Mortals didn’t winnow, didn’t teleport from one place to another in the blink of an eye, but somehow I could. And no one—not even the High Lord himself—could explain why.

I let out a sigh, rubbing my arms as I wandered the gardens. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. Maybe I should’ve stayed in my world, where things were simple and I wasn’t caught up in…this.

The sound of footsteps startled me, and I turned to see Azriel standing a few feet away.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady.

I shook my head, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened at the sight of him. “Just needed some air.”

He didn’t move closer, but his presence alone was enough to fill the space between us. “You left in a hurry earlier.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Interrupt what?”

I glanced at him, biting my lip. “You and Elain.”

Something shifted in his expression—subtle but there. His shadows swirled around him, their movements restless.

“Elain and I…” He trailed off, as if searching for the right words. “It’s not what you think.”

“Really?” I challenged, folding my arms. “Because it looks pretty clear to me.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I cared for her. That she could be—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. “It doesn’t matter.”

I stepped closer, my chest tightening. “It does matter. You can’t just…pretend it doesn’t.”

Azriel’s gaze snapped to mine, sharp and intense. “Why do you care?”

The question caught me off guard, and I opened my mouth to respond, only to realize I didn’t have an answer I was ready to give.

“Forget it,” I muttered, turning away. “Goodnight, Azriel.”

I didn’t look back as I walked away, but I could feel his gaze burning into my back.

The tension between us only grew after that night. Azriel kept his distance, but there were moments—fleeting glances, accidental touches—that left my heart racing. It was maddening, this dance we were trapped in.

It wasn’t until Cassian suggested sparring that I found an outlet for my frustration. The training yard became my escape, a place where I could channel all the emotions swirling inside me.

“You’re getting better,” Cassian said, blocking my latest strike with a grin. “But you still telegraph your moves.”

I rolled my eyes, adjusting my stance. “Maybe you’re just predictable.”

Cassian laughed, lunging at me with renewed vigor. I barely managed to dodge his attack, stumbling as I tried to regain my footing.

“Careful,” he teased, winking. “Wouldn’t want Azriel to think I broke you.”

My cheeks flushed, and I glared at him. “Shut up, Cassian.”

“Make me,” he challenged, his grin widening.

Before I could respond, a voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Enough.”

Cassian and I both turned to see Azriel standing at the edge of the yard, his expression unreadable but his tone leaving no room for argument.

Cassian raised his hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll leave you two alone.” He shot me a knowing look before sauntering off, and I resisted the urge to throw my sword at him.

Azriel approached slowly, his wings tucked tightly against his back. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said, brushing the dirt off my clothes.

He didn’t look convinced. “You shouldn’t push yourself so hard.”

“I can handle it,” I snapped, more sharply than I intended.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he took a step closer, his voice softening. “I know you can. But you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

My breath caught, his words hitting me harder than they should’ve.

“Why do you care?” I asked, echoing his question from that night in the garden.

Azriel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped even closer, his hazel eyes locking onto mine.

“Because I see you,” he said quietly. “Even when you think no one else does.”

My chest tightened, and I opened my mouth to respond, but he closed the distance between us before I could say anything. His hand cupped my cheek, his touch warm and grounding, and then his lips were on mine.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and restraint breaking like a dam. His shadows swirled around us, cocooning us in a world that was just ours.

When we finally pulled apart, Azriel rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he whispered. “I was afraid.”

I smiled, my hands tangling in the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

For the first time since arriving in Velaris, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Over the next few weeks, everything shifted. Azriel and I found a rhythm, a quiet understanding that didn’t need words. He still had his shadows, his secrets, but he let me in, piece by piece.

Elain…she seemed to understand, too. There was no bitterness, no resentment—only a quiet acceptance that made me respect her even more.

As for me, I finally started to feel like I belonged. Rhysand’s court wasn’t just a place; it was a family, one I was proud to be part of.

And Azriel?

He was My Home.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐘𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒎 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒑

╰┈➤ ❝ yoichi isagi x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (without plot), aged-up isagi (obv), snowed in, kissing and making out, heavy petting, slight clit play, slight nipple play, slight dry humping, oral (f. receiving), praise, body worship, veerryyyy slight degradation (use of "slut" like twice), overstimulation, use of pet names "baby" "pretty". lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : ~1.6k

an : had this queued up for christmas day !!!! as part of the @pixelcafe-network secret santa event, merriesttttttt christmas to @eevees-hobbies !!! 🥰🥰 hoping you like this and that i did isagi justice, i do love him dearly and i was super happy to see him on your list hehe >< sending soooo much love and joy and christmas cheer your way!!!

How it started, you couldn't quite tell. But the colorful sets of fairy lights lining the living room ceiling were all the light you'd left on, and the snow and the wind outside seemed insistent on knocking on your windows. Views were completely blocked out in a full, snow-white color; the heating system was almost doing very little to keep you from thinking about the blizzard outside.

Because it was cold.

And it would have remained cold… that is, had it not been for your boyfriend running his hands all over your clothed body, slipping beneath your shirt at the last minute. His touch was light and gentle, more to ease you into comfort than anything else, really…But you knew he was only teasing. Not to your surprise, his lips were on yours in mere seconds, body shifting to cage you beneath him.

He was warm.

This was warm.

His touches, no matter how feather-light he was dead-set on keeping them, left trails of heat in their wake. It was enough to draw out a shaky breath from you; enough to try—to no avail—to pull away for some more air.

He wouldn't quite let you.

Instead, you felt the corners of his lips curl up into a smirk, and it was warmth enough that you could melt.

"Mmfph—Yoi…chi…!"

His hands lay deftly beneath your sweater as he kissed you, tracing soft patterns into your skin. But even speaking was barely an option; a muffled "Mmm… Shh, m'tryin' to keep you warm…." was all you got in reply before his lips crashed back into yours.

Eyes closed, moans and gasps swallowed into the way you couldn't keep your hands off each other. And his hips moved to settle between your legs— Not warm enough, was what you figured he was thinking.

Because a low moan tore from your throat as he moved to grind against you, the outline of his bulge neatly slotting itself between the clothed shape of your folds. "Fuck, shit, baby…." he murmured against your lips, grunting with every rutting motion that he couldn't help himself from making. "Feels so good… Mmh, shit, m'never gettin' enough of your pussy—"

You could lose yourself in this. Even as he trailed kisses down the side of your jaw, relishing the way you arched yourself up into him, matching the now-frantic rolling of hips against hips… Even as your mind began to slowly peel away the layers of the reality around you, leaving only… him.

Him, him, him, him, him.

And when he looked at you then, a thin string of saliva connected his swollen lips to the patch on your neck where he'd just now left a stinging, red mark. His hips slowed down, but he was breathless when he spoke next—

"Baby, can I taste you?"

He licked his lips at the mere thought, eyes clouding with lust and desire in that oh-so-familiar way you knew well enough. The image before you made you swoon; you could feel the wetness pooling into your panties, practically smearing arousal on the fabric.

But he wasn't finished speaking.

Instead, he trailed a hand lower, lower—

The pads of his fingers caressed the skin of your stomach, before reaching down to cup your mound.

"It's just… You're so beautiful, baby."

He could groan at the mere sight of you.

"Makes me wanna do all sorts of stuff to you, and worship you… And, shit—you know I love your taste."

Slow caresses over your panties had your hips bucking. He knew your body by heart; could easily glide over the seeping wetness to rub tight circles over your clit. Obscene squelching noises echoed out with every movement, and it didn't take long for your eyes to shut, lips parted in pleasurable moans.

"Yeahhh, that's my pretty baby…"

He pressed into your panties as he leaned down, nuzzling against your breasts, your stomach, your thighs—"So fuckin' pretty."

He looked up to give you a silly grin, nearly sighing at the sight of the blush tinting your cheeks.

And before he would slot himself between your legs, right where he wanted to be, he leaned up to give you another kiss. It was sloppier this time, not much concerned with any technique, just clearly wanted to have his lips on yours once more—his hand reached up, stroking your curls, sighing into the kiss.

"God, I love you." He murmured when he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. "Y'know that, right? I'm so damn lucky to have you. Thanks for always being with me, baby…"

His words made you smile, and it was your turn to reach out to cup his face.

No words needed to be shared, not really—even without all the sappy confessions, you'd have known the truth of those words either way.

But you nuzzled against his nose, and said it anyway:

"I love you too, Yoichi."

He chuckled against your lips, planting another quick kiss. "Yeah? Now m'gonna want to kiss you all over…"

He was true to his word—lips back to trailing over every inch of your exposed skin, hands sliding back up your sweater to knead at your breasts. He'd sneak in a lick against your hardened nipples, wetting the fabric of your sweater in the process, but nearly grinning at the resulting visible outline of your peaks.

With every moan and buck of your hips in response, his touches and kisses grew more daring—worshiping every inch that he could, leaving a spark of heat to settle into your skin.

And then his hands intertwined with yours as he kissed atop your mound, slowly inching towards your clit. Your legs moved to rest on his shoulders, and he looked at you—there was a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. "You don't mind me spendin' hours here, right?" he joked, giving your hands a squeeze.

It made you laugh, because it was just so like him to want to, but—his tongue darted out, licking a stripe over your panties, tasting the wetness that had completely coated it. The laugh quickly turned into a moan. It was a sensation that made you jolt, nearly closing your legs, and he looked at you with a pout. As if to retaliate, he pushed his nose right up against your clit, and gave you another lick. And another. And another.

"Open up, pretty," he mumbled.

It was difficult.

Every lick he made against your cunt drove the fabric of your panties right into you, clinging to your folds and nearly melting into it enough that it might as well have not been there. The added friction it provided was perfect, the sensations forcing your thighs to close around him—

"No no no, pretty baby… Y'gotta keep them open f'me…"

His hands left yours to spread your legs open, pinning them to the mattress.

A smile played at his lips.

"See? Just like this. All spread out like a good girl…" He placed a kiss to your clit, and momentarily slid a hand down to push your panties to the side.

He licked his lips.

"You're such a slut for me, baby, look at how wet you are… It's perfect…"

You keened.

A whimper fell from your lips at the use of the term, pussy fluttering around virtually nothing.

He chuckled, because he knew it was what you wanted—but he didn't quite repeat himself.

Instead, with no more use for words, he buried his face into your cunt, licking and slurping up all of the juice that you could offer him.

He was right, of course; he could absolutely spend hours here between your legs, and you would let him.

"Y-yoi—Yoichi—!"

Broken cries of his name began to fall from your lips in an instant, grinding your clit into his nose, allowing is tongue to dig into your hole and take in every last drop. He would suck, coaxing as much as he could, lewd squelches echoing in the room and mixing in with your moans like a symphony to his ears.

"Mmmm, such a tasty pussy," came his muffled voice, eyes closed as he lost himself in you.

It was sticky, and messy, and obscene—

Your hands moved to grip his hair, pulling him against you as your hips moved, and his nails nearly dug into your thighs.

"Ichi!" you cried out, arching your back.

His mouth moved over your clit to suck, tongue flicking side to side in the way he knew you liked it best.

"I-Ichi! I-I'm gonna—!"

He didn't stop.

Wouldn't stop.

Not even as your thighs shook in your orgasm, pussy twitching, a long, drawn-out moan escaping your lips.

Tears pricked at your eyes as he kept going, licking, and sucking, and gulping down your juices—

"M'not done, baby. Be a good slut f'me and lemme eat s'more."

He said it again.

You cried out.

The phrase tumbled around in your mind, almost as if planting itself right in there, and you were sensitive, and swollen. But he liked it that way—and it felt so, so, so good. You almost felt yourself get wetter at his words, sopping wet, and it was more than enough to spur him to take even more.

At this point? You were well aware that he'd meant it.

He might as well spend his hours eating you out—

At least it would keep you warm.

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[fairyrcts]

────୨ৎ──── cherry!reader & tattoo artist!matt headcanons !

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who met you for the first time by doing one of your tattoos

“uhm, no, rachel isn’t here today. you’ll probably be with me this afternoon.” he gave you a welcoming smile while he put on his black latex gloves.

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who was intrigued by you within moments of meeting you

“what were you thinking?” he asked, preparing his workspace while you laid back on the bench.

“a pin-up doll, near my shoulder.” you spoke softly as matt looked down at you in some sort of adoration.

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who loves making you his muse for his art

“stay right there f’me… perfect, baby. just perfect.” he breathed out, looking up from his sketch pad a few times as he drew the two bows that sat at the end of your braided hair.

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who sits with you on his balcony smoking and having deep conversations

“it’s so nice out, tonight.” he took a drag of his cigarette after his sentence, looking out to the bustling city below them.

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who loves teasing cherry

“matt!” you whined after he took a large sip of your diet coke when you specifically told him a small sip.

“sorry, sugar. couldn’t help it.” he spoke with a sly smirk on his face.

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who lets you color in his tattoos

“are you coloring the cerberus red? seriously?” he chuckled under his breath as you looked up at him, nodding.

ᝰ.ᐟ tattoo artist!matt who definitely would have some type of claiming kink

“matt, what?” you look at him like he had just said the dumbest thing ever.

“what? you don’t think my name would look good in big ole’ letters across your neck?” he asked genuinely, letting his fingers run across your neck as if he was visualizing the tattoo itself.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who found herself staring from the second she met matt

“stay still, would you, hun?” he asked, slightly quieter than he intended.

you simply nodded, your eyes still sat on his face. the way he bit his bottom lip in concentration.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who loves doodling on him

“whatcha drawin’, sweet girl?” he asked, his left hand stroking your hair while you moved the ballpoint pen on his right.

“i dunno, ‘m jus’ doodling.” she giggled to herself.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who leaves her kiss mark on him

“look at that. all mine, hm?” you smiled down at the brunette that sat on your bed, his cheek and neck covered in your lipstick.

“yes ma’am.” he nodded, snaking his arms around your waist, pulling you down on him in the process.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who likes watching matt draw

his pencil moved rapidly on the paper while you stared. the way his veins became more prominent in his hands, how his brows furrowed while perfecting his art.

“what? why’re ya lookin’ at me like that?” he huffed out a laugh. “just admirin’ you is all.” you smiled.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who leaves little hand-written letters for matt before he leaves for work

‘bye, handsome ! i love you , xoxo’ the end of the small note said. he smiled to himself, tucking the note in his pocket as a keep-sake.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who wears matt’s favorite pair of red, laced panties

“wearin’ those for me, doll?” he leaned down to whisper in your ear after noticing his favorite pair of your panties peaking through your jeans when you bent over.

۶ৎ cherry!reader who adores telling matt she loves him an excessive amount

“i love you.” you smiled, legs crossed sitting in front of him. “i love you too, beautiful.” he leaned in, pecking your nose lightly.

“like a lot.” you added. he rolled his eyes lightly. “i know you do. that’s the 13th time in the past five minutes.”

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ author’s note !

AHHH aren’t they the friggin cutest?? also like mentally i’m thinking like matt’s sorta older (late 20’s or early 30’s) and cherry’s younger so she kinda makes him feel like alive?? YOU FEEL?? but idk cuz i also wanna make a dilf!matt au so i gotta think this out

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ taglist !

@pvssychicken @emely9274 @emilyfaith2003 @nicholaschavezslut69 @sophand4n4

[thewitchblue]

"Are you... reading Twilight?"

You had asked Jason, who broke into your apartment while you were gone grocery shopping. He only gave you a hum and continued reading as you set your grocery bags on your kitchen table.

You watched him turn the page and felt a sense of dread. It was your copy from when you were 13 years old. It had notes and doodles in the margins. Did he read your notes? Of course he would. He reads the annotated versions of Jane Austen he has for fun. Why wouldn't he read your notes? The world seemed to be against you this day.

You were so mortified you didn't even hear him laugh at a doodle you had of Edward biting a dog with the word "nom" next to it. He was almost done with the book.

You've only been dating for a handful of months. Would the notes break up your relationship? You don't remember the majority of them.

You haven't touched the trilogy since school, and you originally didn't even want to read it. The social pressure from your friends became to be too much, and it felt like a religious experience at the time.

You had forgotten about the book entirely in the years you've had it crammed in a bookcase next to the rest of the series, which, with great horror, you saw he also pulled out to read.

"Don't tell me you're enjoying the book."

You said in disbelief. The memories run through your head of your blushing cheeks at simple words on pages while the girls ganged up on you to ask which team your on. What team is Jason on? Or has he read this before behind closed doors? He shrugged and simply replied,

"I am."

You wanted to bolt out the door, but you had melting limited addition candy cane ice cream in your grocery bag.

Instead of running away, you bravely start putting away your groceries with your eyes trained on Jason. He seemed to genuinely enjoy your trashy romance book that's so incredibly dated. This is so bizarre to you. He's a fan of the classics and loves books that he can revisit without cringing.

The book appeared partially destroyed by the abyss of your backpack with a torn cover and a broken spine, but it drew Jason's attention. Of course, it would draw his attention. He always said a well loved book is one you take everywhere. A book with a broken spine and torn cover is going to make him curious.

He never had the normal teenage phase, so he's never read the book. He was curious, and he was rewarded so far. He understands now why teenagers like the trilogy so far.

You decided to break into the ice cream. You tensed at every page turned. What did you write in there? You tried to remember. You vaguely remember writing "yummy muscles" on a page. You cringed. Oh, the horrors of a horny teen.

The ice cream was as delicious as you expected it to be. How could you look him in the eyes ever again? Will he tell the whole family? You were stress eating.

Jason finished the book and went to pick up the next one, but you plucked it out of his hands before he could open it and grabbed the final book as well.

"I'm seriously going to throw these in the shredder."

Jason smirked at you. He enjoyed your little doodles and notes. It was as if he was meeting you when you were kids. He pointed out,

"I think they are too big to shred, pipsqueak."

You pouted, which only made him more amused. He pulled you into his lap and kissed your cheek. You huffed,

"I can still try."

He laughed. You were so adorable. He might have to embarrass you more. He murmured to you,

"I especially enjoyed your note of 'delicious dog meat.'"

You groaned and held your face in your hands, making the books fall to the floor. You hated your past self in this moment. Why did you keep those books? For Jason to show up and read them?

The feeling of dread eventually went away the more he kissed you. You filed away the fact you can know for a fact Jason read Twilight now, and part of you wondered if he'll spiral into the hellscape of fanfiction as a result. You are going to burn those books.

You like to think you ended up with a better love story than Twilght. Sure, you may be dating a zombie instead of a vampire or werewolf like teen you had wanted (if we can have Superman, we can have a sexy vampire or werewolf), but your zombie is perfect in his own ways.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One ThirtyNine

prompt from @mugloversonly @after-the-end-times @spectrum-spectre

It’s a little odd having a birthday banner hanging across the Christmas Tree, but everyone was pretty determined that this is Eddie’s birthday, and that’s a totally different thing to Christmas Eve. So everyone is here; Joyce even baked a proper birthday cake, and now they’re doing the thing where they bring out the cake and everyone sings.

It feels bittersweet to Steve; Eddie’s first birthday. It was a year ago today that Steve pulled Eddie out of the pool. A year ago today Eddie came back to him. He remembers vividly struggling to get Eddie up the stairs. Cleaning all the filth off him. How he’d looked, with no hair at all, all skin and bones, wobbling his way down the stairs. The noise he’d made the first time he ever tried bacon; the startled look on his face the first time he’d ever hiccuped.

Eddie stays where he’s been put, sitting at the head of dining room table, proudly wearing a Birthday party hat. Eddie’s been to a couple of birthdays this year, mainly for the kids, so he knows what’s coming. He looks fucking delighted at the sight of the cake, but he still checks, “I can blow out the candles?”

“Yeap,” Steve tells him.

“Make a wish first!” Joyce calls.

“I wish-”

“Nooooooo!” probably half a dozen people yell, “keep it a secret or it won’t come true,” Robin adds. Eddie stares hard at the candles for a long second, and then he looks up, finding Steve. Steve can see the moment Eddie settles on his wish.

He’s still staring at Steve when he blows them out.

“So...things with Eddie are good then?”

It’s a little uncomfortable, but all the stuff that happened feels like it was a long time ago now. Nancy has definitely been making an effort to build a fresh friendship, and Steve can’t fault her for it, not really. Steve finds Eddie, he can see him through the doorway into the kitchen, making something with Robin and Chrissy, “yeah everything is...great. Like really great.”

“I was...a little surprised, you know?”

“Yeah that’s...understandable,” and it is. Eddie is literally a creature from The Upside Down; he didn’t even look remotely human to begin with, half of him was literally a fish. Plus Steve’s never really been interested in guys before, but he guesses there must have always been a little something there for him to take to it so easily. Granted the circumstances forced his hand a little, and he’s still had a couple of things to work through but...he feels pretty good about it. Besides, Eddie still isn’t even really human, so it probably doesn’t exactly count. Not with his lack of nipples and his downstairs situation anyway; you can’t exactly try to stick Eddie into a category...he’s Eddie, a unique and perfect thing all his own.

In the kitchen, Robin spills something, Chrissy shrieks and Eddie manically dashes for a cloth, cackling. The chaos of it makes Steve smile at them; everyone is at least a few drinks deep, Steve’s sure.

“You really care about him though?” She presses a little. Nancy’s never been able to just let it go, especially if she doesn’t understand it. She always needs to know, Steve’s pretty sure it’s not a nosiness thing; more an understanding thing.

“Yeah, yeah I love him,” Steve tells her unabashed, it is the truth, “he loves me too.”

“You’re sure it’s not just...I mean you did rescue him, plus, where would he even go if you weren't together-”

“Are you suggesting Eddie has some sort of-of-of Stockholm syndrome?” Steve can’t help but laugh, a little incredulous at the suggestion.

“Well no, I just. Think you should both be sure-”

“How are you and Jon then?” Steve cuts her off. He chooses to lean into the spirit of Christmas and assume that Nancy’s concerns all come from a good place. Even so, it’s not a good intention Steve has to tolerate if he doesn’t want to. He raises his eyebrows at her, waiting.

Nancy draws breath, like she’s not done, but then clearly rethinks it and chooses her battle, Steve can see the moment when she decides not to pursue it, sipping her drink before she replies, “yeah, really good,” over her shoulder, Eddie, Chrissy, and Robs have their heads together, the conversation clearly turned serious.

“That’s good Nance,” Steve chooses to be the bigger man, “I’m just really glad you’re both happy,” he tells her pointedly. In the kitchen, Eddie’s turned to find Steve, watching him back. Steve can’t quite decipher the look on his face, but Robin’s clutching his arm, on her toes, speaking urgently to Eddie. She looks kind of panicked, which immediately worries Steve.

“Well, I mean, obviously I want you to be happy, I mean I’m glad, really glad it all worked out for you.”

Eddie has a look on his face that Steve’s pretty certain he’s never seen before. He can’t quite work out what it means other than...Eddie’s pissed. Like, really fucking angry. And he’s marching closer, shaking off both Robin and Chrissy in the process.

Steve has no clue what’s happening as Eddie approaches, pushing Steve away from Nancy to press him against the wall and then...kisses him. Steve has his eyes open, not sure what to make of Eddie’s rage, but he soon lets them slide closed. He melts against the wall. Eddie’s kissing him like he’s got something to prove. He’s almost bitey as he sucks at Steve’s lips, leaving little scrapes that don’t quite break the skin. The passion is surprising, but so fucking hot Steve leans into it fast, matching Eddie’s energy and he sucks on Eddie’s tongue, curling his fingers around Eddie’s hips to pull him closer, no longer wanting to stop to question Eddie’s motives.

Eddie pulls back, pink and flushed, an inch of space between them, panting for breath Eddie asks, “you and Nancy used to be together?”

“I-” Steve can’t help his gaze flicking side wards to Nancy, and then back to Eddie, Eddie’s eyes narrowing at the sight, something flashing in the depths, “yeah?” Steve confirms weakly.

Eddie presses closer, his claws pricking Steve’s skin through his clothes; Eddie’s never been possessive like this before, and Steve is...well they’ve had a lot of sex, and Eddie pressing himself against Steve like this, kissing him like that...Steve’s body is only reacting the way it always does, which is a little mortifying in a room full of people.

Eddie leans his face closer again, his hair brushing Steve’s forehead, his breath warm as he growls, “you had sex with her?”

“Eddie!” Steve splutters, but apparently even that is too much, Eddie has him by the wrist, not quite painful, but very harsh compared to Eddie’s usually gentle nature. Eddie turns, pulling Steve along and he...bares his teeth at Nancy, actually hissing at her on the way past.

“Eddie!” Steve starts again, shocked, this time a reprimand, “be nice!” That’s no way to behave, and Nancy is unnerved enough that she takes a big step back. Steve is dragged along behind Eddie, ending up locked into the downstairs bathroom together. Eddie pins him against the door with his body, kissing Steve soundly.

“Baby,” Steve starts, his words broken by kisses, “what’s gotten into you?”

Eddie just growls. It’s not a sound Steve’s ever heard before, and he can feel it, rumbling in Eddie’s body where their chests are pressed together, “need you.”

Eddie starts nipping at Steve’s throat, stinging kisses that makes Steve’s hips roll, looking for friction against Eddie’s thigh. His brain feels like it’s going a little mushy, Eddie’s being unusually forceful, and Steve’s vaguely aware that everyone is still out there and, probably, are now very aware that they’re shut in here together but...as Eddie’s questing fingers find the button on Steve’s jeans, he’s struggling to care about that stuff.

“We’ve got to be quiet,” Steve breathes out, a final token protest, giving in to what's about to happen. Eddie huffs dismissively, tugging down Steve’s jeans and underwear together, Steve angling his hips away from the door to help. Eddie abandons them there, bunched around Steve’s thighs, surging up for another possessive kiss. Eddie grabs Steve’s bare ass with both hands, his claws digging into the meat a little as he squeezes, pulling Steve against him.

“She not touch you again,” Eddie growls against Steve’s mouth, words choppy, “promise.”

“I...I promise baby, of course,” Eddie stares into Steve’s face, their warm breaths mingling as Eddie inspects him from inches away, like he’s searching for any hint of a lie, “no one else ever again, I swear it.”

Eddie nods once, sharply, before spitting into his palm and grabbing Steve's now, very hard cock. He had no idea he’d be into this, but possessive, bossy Eddie is lighting him up in a way he didn’t know he’d like, his brain turning to mush a little as Eddie touches him. He feels too warm, flushed and sweaty already, the world narrowed down to Eddie’s touch on him, hard and fast, intent on getting him off.

“And you,” Steve’s mouth is insisting before his brain catches up, he needs it, needs to make Eddie feel good too. Eddie doesn’t stop jerking him, but he does slow it down, leaning back a tiny bit, giving Steve space to reach past the bend of Eddie’s own arm to get to the button on his jeans.

Steve sees the fabric move. He can see Eddie’s cock desperately wriggling for freedom beneath his zipper. Eddie’s told him before that it gets real uncomfortable real fast, and Steve tuts quietly, “baby.”

Eddie’s cock forces it's way free before Steve even has the zipper half down, already having found it’s way through the slit in Eddie’s boxers, it rushes into Steve’s fingers, greeting him eagerly and tangling itself firmly there. Eddie groans, shuffling close again. The head of Eddie’s cock opens, setting sucking kisses on every part of Steve’s hand and fingers it can reach. They arrange themselves as Eddie’s hand speeds up again, “fuck, baby, yeah.” Steve’s cock is leaking, making Eddie’s hand slick, but Eddie still stops to spit again, landing the glob on the exposed head of Steve’s cock. It’s red already, and Eddie squeezes, forcing Steve’s foreskin up to roll back up and partially cover the swollen head.

Steve’s guts are tight already, the muscles in his ass and legs tensing, he can’t stop the shift of his own hips as he works his thumb in circles across the head of Eddie’s own cock. Eddie jacks him again, slow and so firm, forcing a massive dribble of pre come out of the head of Steve’s cock. Steve groans again, “baby, I’m gonna’-”

“Wait,” Eddie uses his free hand to push Steve’s hand off himself, letting his cock to wriggle free between them. It stands tall, searching, the black petals rippling.

Eddie angles Steve’s cock out, pulling the head down and towards himself, and Steve instantly knows what Eddies planning, “oh fuck baby, yes, yes please.” They’ve never done this before, but just the idea of it makes Steve hips shift, his balls going tight, the orgasm bubbling at the base of his cock, “please, now,” Steve vaguely aware that he’s whining, loud and desperate.

People can hear; he doesn’t give a fuck. He wants this.

Eddie’s cock latches to the head of Steve’s, the black petals stark against the dark pink spongy head. The fit is perfect, the slit of Steve’s cock, the head, being suckled and gently rubbed by all those little bumps, the sucking pulse feels like a mouth, the texture incredible. Eddie drags his hand upward, forcing Steve’s skin up again, his foreskin sliding over top of the petals. Eddie makes a choked noise, his free hand scrabbling again at the meat of Steve’s ass. Steve desperately locks his knees to stop himself from falling. The pulsing, sucking, pulling sensation is relentless.

Eddie moves his hand again, dragging Steve's foreskin back down, revealing the filthy sight of those jet black petals cupping the head of Steve's cock, the body of Eddie's cock writhing. Steve’s head thumps back against the door, his hips wriggling now, unable to stop himself moving in tiny little thrusts, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” Steve groans, “baby-”

Eddie leans up for a kiss. It’s messy, uncoordinated, both of them groaning and panting into each others mouths, and Steve cries out against Eddie’s lips as he comes. The pull is sharp, the stimulation on the head of his cock turning frantic as, just like with Steve’s spit on his cock, Steve’s come works to push Eddie into his own orgasm. Eddie accidentally catches Steve’s lip with his teeth, and the sting is delicious. His orgasm seems to go on forever, Eddie's cock suckling fiercely, and Eddie’s hand working him so perfectly.

Eventually, Eddie slumps forward onto Steve, Steve using his back to the door to keep them both up. “That was…” Steve starts, but doesn’t know where to go. He doesn’t know how to describe what just happened. It was maybe the best orgasm of Steve’s life.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, muffled where his face is smushed into Steve’s shoulder. The head of Steve’s dick is suddenly cold, and he figures Eddie’s dick has gone back in. They stand there for a few minutes, Steve rubbing Eddie’s back, gathering themselves. Eddie clears his throat, lifting his head so he can look Steve in the eye, “I’m sorry.”

Steve frowns, brain still a little flooded with happy chemicals, “what?”

“For before. I just...I found out about you and Nancy and I got...I got so angry. It,” Eddie makes a motion between them, a churning of his insides that he can’t express, “I’ve never felt like that before it was...like I hated her. And I needed you and I don’t understand-”

“You were jealous, baby?”

“I...yeah, it was horrible. And stupid- I didn’t – there’s no-” Eddie huffs, struggling for the words.

“How you feel doesn’t always make sense. There’s no...rules, you know.” Steve frowns, remembering, “should probably say sorry to Nancy though, you like, hissed at her which, kind of funny but still.”

Eddie looks a cross between horrified and mortified, “I don’t even remember.”

“Wow,” Steve can’t help being smug, “got it bad for me, huh?”

Eddie limply slaps at Steve’s chest, sighing through his nose, “shut up.”

Steve hums, “uh huh. We should get cleaned up.”

“Probably.”

They peel themselves apart, Steve leaning to grab for some tissue off the roll as Eddie starts to pull his pants down a little, but as Steve investigates, his finds his cock dry, “huh, where did it go?” He wipes up a little, the skin tacky with spit and precome, but otherwise everything is clean and dry, “uh...is my come on you? I can’t, uhm, find it?” He tucks himself away, pulling everything up so he can help Eddie.

“I don’ t think so?” Eddie replies, touching himself, his slit, the crease of his thighs, when Steve goes to wipe at him with the tissue, since Eddie usually makes a lot of come, there’s nothing, “I’m clean,” Eddie tells him.

Steve frowns, “did you come?”

“Yeah,” Eddie huffs, “I definitely, definitely did. That was…”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “but you’re dry?”

“Yeah,” Eddie scissors his thighs together, something he normally does when he’s spreading all the jelly like come about, “nothing there.”

“This is weird, where'd it all go? And why haven’t you, you know?” Steve feels for himself, running two fingers gently along Eddie’s slit, pushing in to part him the tiniest bit, Eddie makes a breathy little noise as Steve pulls away, “you sure you came?”

“Steve,” Eddie replies flatly, pulling his pants up and buttoning them.

“Right right it’s just...weird, right?”

Eddie shrugs, “makes it easy?”

“Yeah...don’t look a gift horse in the mouth I guess, considering we now have to go out there and face everyone.”

Eddie grins, “I like that they know.”

“Of course you do,” Steve sighs, fixes his hair in the mirror, and opens the door.

It’s after midnight; Eddie’s birthday is officially over. All the kids have gone home with Hopper and Joyce, and before everyone else heads home, since it’s Christmas, they’re going to exchange gifts now.

Steve had been, mildly mortified after they came out of the bathroom, not really wanting to face Joyce's raised eyebrows or the girls giggling...Eddie however, has been strutting around like a proud peacock, so Steve hasn't been feeling too ashamed about the whole thing. He is however, glad of the distraction of the gifts.

All the gifts are stacked under the tree, and Steve has been voted to distribute. A lot of the labels have been made from cut up magazine letters so that the hand writing won’t be recognized; to Steve they vaguely look like ransom threats.

They go around the room, opening their gifts one at a time, trying to guess who got them. They mostly work it out. Steve isn’t that interested in his own; he’s more interested in what Eddie got. The box is actually kind of heavy, and it’s pretty big.

Eddie opens it happily, pulling out a record that Steve knows he’s wanted for ages. And then...a denim jacket with no sleeves that Steve knows he was eyeing at the thrift store. Steve watches with mounting suspicion as Eddie pulls out a book he's talked about. The box, now Steve’s thinking about it, is wrapped with very familiar wrapping paper.

“Eddie, you got loads, they definitely didn’t stay on budget. Who got Eddie? Steve, was it you?”

“No, no it wasn’t me,” Steve quietly chuckles to himself. He half listens as Robin goes around the room, and every single person denies getting Eddie.

“Whoever pulled your name must know you pretty well, huh Baby? They got you exactly what you wanted.”

“Yup,” Eddie grins happily.

“Steve, come on, it must have been you, it wasn’t any of us.”

Steve just shakes his head in denial before turning back to Eddie, “baby...it’s kind of against the rules to pull your own name.”

Eddie frowns, “no it isn’t,” the whole room erupts into laughter around them.

Steve tries to clear up some of the aftermath, but it’s nearly two in the morning and he can’t be fucked really. He collapses on the couch, finishing his now warm flat soda. He can hear Eddie pottering, “we should go to bed!” Steve calls. He’s not loud, not much above speaking volume really, but he knows Eddie will hear him.

“Can we do our gifts now?” Eddie asks from the doorway.

“Sure Baby, if you want to. We’re going to be out most of the day tomorrow anyway,” they’re spending Christmas with the Hopper-Byers brigade, and Steve is kind of looking forward to it. Eddie’s second ever Christmas.

Steve heads off to his hiding place in one of the spare rooms to get Eddie’s gifts, Eddie does the same; Steve knows his are stashed out in the utility.

He’s been pretending not to know.

“Okay, me first,” Eddie says, sitting and pulling out what Steve knows is the record. Steve eyes the gift he has from Eddie; just the one, but it’s fairly big looking. Square. Steve has no idea what it could be.

Eddie likes the record; he absolutely loves the book of Metallica tabs and almost leaves to get his guitar right there and then, but Steve stops him, “tomorrow baby. We really need to sleep after this.”

Eddie laughs at himself and his own excitement, agreeing. When he opens his final gift, the guitar pick necklace, he puts it on immediately and swears he loves it so much he’s never going to take if off. Steve’s glad to hear it, even if it makes him feel, momentarily, a little weirdly possessive.

“Okay, this first,” Eddie pulls over the box, “Chrissy helped me,” he admits as Steve unwraps it, carefully pulling out the frame inside. It’s wrapped in soft packing paper, and Steve pulls that away to reveal his crown. It’s been artfully arranged behind the glass, all dried now, the tufts of grasses stand tall, still twined up with all the little flowers that Eddie had included. Clearly someone spent a very long time carefully setting it out, and it looks beautiful. Steve had carefully stored it away in a shoebox, so he hadn't even noticed it was gone. He’s...touched, by the memory of them in the woods around Hopper’s cabin. Eddie had told Steve he loved him for the first time not long after.

“Thank you...it’s so thoughtful. Thank you. I can hang this up and remember it forever, I love it.” Eddie smiles, slipping off the couch to kneel in front of Steve. Steve sets the frame down.

Eddie pulls a little velvet box out of his pocket, “I didn’t understand what it meant,” he starts slowly, “when you put this on me,” he lifts his left hand, rubbing at the ring with his thumb. “I didn’t know what being engaged was, or weddings or...any of it. I didn’t know, but you loved me anyway, and I’ve never taken it off,” Steve swallows thickly, he knows, he knows in his bones where this is going, but he lets Eddie speak. If Eddie’s saying so may words in one go, it means he’s really thought about, and Steve won’t interrupt him. “But I know now. I understand all of it, and I know I’m a guy, and...we can’t get married, but I...wanted to show you that I know. I know now, and I love you too.”

Eddie opens the box, it’s a simple silver band, thicker than Eddie’s but still, it matches. Steve isn’t sure he’d be able to speak, his eyes already feel wet, so he silently holds his hand out for Eddie to slide the ring on; it fits perfectly.

Steve feels like he’ll crack open if he tries to talk about what he feels right now, it’s too big, too much, “you measured my finger didn’t you. Before the mall? So sneaky.”

Eddie nods, his own eyes looking suspiciously misty, smiling and biting at his lip, clearly nervous, “do you like it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I love it, thank you. I love you.”

Eddie smiles, sitting up for a kiss, “love you, too.”

[mofongomuncher]

𝘼 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧

POV: Telling Ekko you’re pregnant

Im gonna be posting a bunch of lil Ekko oneshots on Wattpad, I feel like this man doesn’t get enough stories and it irkssss me sm. So if you’d like to read more the link is at the end!!

I'm not all that good at writing, I’m also doing this for fun so please go easy on me. I'm hoping to get better as I keep writing. But I still hope you guys enjoy it!! :3

.

The Firelight base, hidden among the green thick fogs of Zaun, was Ekko's haven. A quiet—peaceful place from the chaos of the Undercity.

His little room at the top of his tree was where he could think, when the weight of leadership felt too heavy—he could sit, take a moment for himself for a little bit.

His room was filled with unfinished projects, blueprints and tools scattered all across his workbench, The lanterns and candles cast a soft, wam glow over the space, giving it a calming, almost ethereal atmosphere.

But tonight...tonight felt different.

Tonight, there was something heavy in the air.

Y/N sat on the edge of his bed, She had something she needed to say. Something that had been on her mind for days now. But the thought of how Ekko would react to it made her heart race like hell.

Ekko was seated at his workbench, tinkering with a device, his brows furrowed in concentration. When Y/N finally spoke, her voice barely rose above a whisper, it stopped him cold.

"Ekko," she began, and when he turned, the look on his face shifted. His precious brown eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, she saw his guard come down, just a fraction.

He stood, his usual cool confidence flickering for just an instant. "What's up doll? You've been acting different... is something wrong?"

Y/N hesitated.

Fuck This wasn't easy.

How do you tell someone you love so much that their life is about to change forever?

But she couldn't keep it to herself anymore.

"Ekko...I'm pregnant."

Ekko froze. His expression was unreadable for a second before his eyes narrowed, brows drawing together. His mind that was always fast, was now working overtime, processing what the hell she just said.

For a second, the silence felt like a punch to the gut, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on both of them.

"You're... pregnant?" He repeated, his voice low, almost to himself, like he wasn't sure whether to believe it or not. He just stood there, trying to find something to say but was unable to form the words just yet.

Y/N nodded, swallowing hard.

"I found out a little while ago. I just didn't know how to tell you. Hell, I didn't even know how to process it myself."

Ekko rubbed his forehead, He was silent for a moment longer before he spoke, his voice rougher than usual, but it was tinged with concern. "I... I'm not sure what to do with this Y/N...Fuck...I didn't even expect to see this coming.."

Y/N's heart clenched at the uncertainty in his voice. She had been afraid of this, of him not knowing how to react.

she took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady. "I didn't expect this either. I'm scared too Ekko. But I don't—I can't to do this alone. I need you."

Ekko didn't move right away, his gaze still locked on her. His hands fidgeted with a loose gear on the workbench, his mind was clearly in a battle between his responsibilities and the unexpected future baby unfolding in front of him.

"Damn..." he muttered, shaking his head, his usual confident demeanor cracked for a moment.

"...I—I don't even know what kind of father I'd be. I barely have time to think straight with everything that's going on lately." His voice softened, but it was raw, honest—Ekko was always the kind of person who wasn't afraid to show what he was feeling around me, even if it made him vulnerable.

"But I'm not gonna back down from it..."                   "Not from you."

Y/N felt the tension in her chest start to melt away as he spoke.

She stepped closer, her eyes softening, the relief obvious in her expression.

Ekko's eyes softened as he took a step closer, his hand gently cupping her face. "Whatever happens next, we'll figure it out..Like we always do." His smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He leaned in a little closer, their foreheads brushing together. He seemed to take a moment to just soak it all in, before speaking again, softer this time.

"I love you Y/N."

Y/N's smile softened, feeling her heart swell. But before she could say anything, Ekko's voice had that hint of excitement. "And I'm gonna love our baby too. I'll teach 'em alll the important stuff."

He leaned back a bit, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Can you imagine? A little mini us running around just causing all the trouble, and I'm the one trying to keep it all together while you just—well, you'll be egging 'em on won't you?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a playful grin. "Oh absolutely! That little ball of happiness is gonna have all of your genius and a whole lot of my sass... We'll have a little firecracker on our hands."

Ekko's grin grew, the playful energy between them settling into something warm and steady. "They'll be perfect." He stepped in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, then slowly brushing his lips against hers in a gentle, lingering kiss.

When they pulled away, he smiled, his hand gently resting on her cheek. "And if they're half as amazing as you, we'll be just fine."

Y/N's heart fluttered, her smile growing as she met his eyes. "I love you Ekko."

"I love you too Y/N"

[luimagines]

Would it be alright to request the chain in modern human readers world, having chosen to go with them after the quest?

I'd love to see them sitting through a uni lecture or going to a normal everyday cafe - or whatever you think would be interesting for them

OHhhh!! I like this idea!! :D

Masterlist

Part one will include Time, Twilight and Warrior.

Content under the cut!

Time

"Ready to go?" You asked him, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

Time sat on the couch, leg crossed over the other as he sipped a cup of coffee. He was dressed in a black turtle neck with darkwash blue jeans. You hated to admit it, (no, you didn't) but he looked good in modern clothes. He was busy trying to figure out the phone you got him two weeks ago. He marveled at the tech but argued that it was a strain to look at for too long.

You didn't blame him. You showed him how to turn on the eye protection filter and how to lower the brightness. But you imagined that he was having a difficult time adjusting his one eye to the new information and light it was being exposed to.

Still, he didn't give up.

It was admirable. It made you smile how willing he was to learn everything just to fit in with your home.

Never let it be said that Link wasn't a champion of hitting the ground running. He was willing to bite down on any challenge big or small.

"Almost," He said softly, finishing his coffee with more speed than you would have recommended.

"Working on something?" You walked over, leaning down to get a good look at what he was reading.

He turned off the phone quickly and shoved it in his pocket. He smirked and spun you around so fast toward the front door that you didn't have the chance to form a sentence. "I have found those stores you mentioned from the crystal screen," He says directly into your ear. "I was merely perusing their stock, that's all."

"Oh no, who showed you Faron?" You groan.

He laughs.

"Link, I'm serious. That is dangerous territory."

"Nothing," He shrugs. "I haven't figured out where the cart is."

"Oh thank the three-"

"Don't look into it though."

"Oh?"

"Nope," He says with a shake of his head. "I'm not telling. Let's go to this movie thing you mentioned. What was it again?"

You raise an eyebrow, not at all impressed with his attempts to distract you. You might need to check your bank account later just in case. "Storytelling. Moving pictures that we can see and hear."

"I'm excited. Let's go!"

Twilight

"Tell me again, how this goes?" Twilight looked at you nervously.

"Link, you're a bonafide country boy. This shouldn't scare you." You tease, putting your hands on your hips. "You've been shot out of canons, turned into a wolf and fought evil incarnate itself. You blew up a bomb shop! This is where you draw the line?"

"This is different, Darlin'."

You took the moment to admire his new outfit. You put in a pair of dark wash Levi's, a red flannel shirt, cowboys boots and a hat to match. But you had taken the hat off and instead set it aside.

He wouldn't need it for what you had planned.

"Look," You smiled at him, the teas sitting on the tip of your tongue. "All you have to do is stay in one place. It'll take care of the rest."

"So how do you stop it?"

"You don't."

Twilight sighed and gave you a long-suffering look. You only smiled wider at him in response. Pushing up the tractor tire with as much strength you could muster, you hit the side of it. "Hop in."

"This is insane." Twilight groaned and maneuvered to get inside the tire. "Something tells me this isn't safe!"

"Where's your sense of adventure?" You accuse, slowly rolling it down the hill you've place it on. "Ready?"

"No."

"Let's go!" You cheered and pushed him away.

As expected the tire began to roll down the hill, gaining speed as it descended. You laughed, chasing it down as it began to bounce. There was a possibility that it would go straight into the lake that was at the bottom but you were sure Twilight was fine.

Twilight was screaming.

Still, that was normal for first time goers.

He had wanted to know what the farmers did for fun. You couldn't resist the temptation to include in the chaos.

Eventually, the tire did bounce directly into the lake. It stopped the rubber in its tracks and you jumped in after it. Within moments, Twilight popped his head over the side, climbing over the tire with a large smile on his face.

"Let's do that again!"

Warrior

"...woah..." Warrior breathed.

You had decided to take him to a LARP'ing scene in the local park.Not because you thought that he would be interested in it, but because you thought that he would lose his mind at seeing something a lot like the time he was from.

It wasn't exactly the renaissance fair. It was far too low budget to come close to that. But it was close enough that it counted.

He would never admit it, too stubborn and headstrong in keeping his decisions, but you could see that he was homesick. Warrior had decided to leave behind everything he knew because he never could bring himself to say goodbye to you.

Knowing that it was one of the most difficult decisions anyone could make, you've tried to make his transition as smooth as possible.

It wasn't remotely smooth.

But again, it was the thought that counted right?

All around you were people who decided to dress centuries out of style. You joined them to fit in the spirit.

Did Warrior know this? No.

You grinned and skipped over to him. He was dressed in his hero gear, just as you requested. You looped your arm in his and kissed his cheek. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off of you. You half expected his eyes to fully bulge out of his head. "Like it? I managed to find enough people to throw this all together."

"...For me?" He whispered, looking around with wet eyes.

"They don't know that." You gestured to the people. "They're just here to have fun and pretend to be someone else. If they do things that are still a little... off, forgive them, won't you? After all they're still very much this time, not yours."

"It looks so real." Warrior gaped. "It's like I stepped back..."

"Home?" You offered quietly, letting his arm go to give him some space to take it all in.

"....yeah..."

Most of it was actually painted carboard that would later be donated to the local theater. But you thought it would be a bit cruel to burst his bubble by mentioning that.

"Hey!" Someone random guy passed you both. "You look awesome dude! Is that real chainmail?"

Warrior quickly wiped his face, giving the passerby his most charming smile. "Why, yes, of course! Had to bring some authenticity to this place!"

"That's sick! Did you make it yourself?"

"Uh.... no. I ordered it."

You snorted, knowing the lie for what it was. "Come on! I heard they're about to start a bon fire! They're going to roast cucco and mutton and someone brought kombucha to purchase."

"I don't know what that is." Warrior smile a bit warily. Said bubble was already on the verge of being popped.

"Fermented mushroom drink. No one is going to want to drink mead, love."

"....That's fair. Let me try it at least. It can't be as bad."

"That's the spirit."

Part 2 TBA

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 23

(Jade and Floyd are bioluminescent in darkness, so their scales often glitter and draw in too curious fish. Floyd is an extremely skilled hunter and often uses his Leiomano to fight with larger predators in close combat because he enjoys the thrill of the hunt. Jade usually lets his bioluminescence or his brother bring in the food and is less willing to fight a predator one on one even with his Harpoon. When fighting together, Jade and Floyd are both very skilled at playing off of one another and can easily overwhelm a larger predator.)

Warnings; RSA boys vs NRC boys, photoshoot, trying to rizz the Human ending poorly, Grim is a little shit to almost everyone except for his Hooman, mention of ill-tempered dragon, intentional sabotage of rizz, yanderes vs yanderes, Design Team and Guard Team alliance against Newcomers Team, protective behavior, sweet behavior, angry birds, Harpies, Merman, Drider, Hellcat, Water Nymph, Tree Nymph, Gnoll, Werewolf, Bakeneko, Nemean Lion, Shinigami,

~~~~~~~~

"So, why do we have to go to Pomefiore for this?"

"Because, mon Trickster, it has been storming since your departure to Savanaclaw. The grounds are too wet and muddy to take photos."

You frowned, looking out at the storm that was raging as Rook walked up to the Pomefiore mirror. Some of the storm was likely Malleus' doing, but there was no way he had kept the storm going for this long, right? That would take an unnatural amount of strength and energy to keep a storm going for days on end.

"Is it just rainy weather or is there something else happening?"

"Well," Vil cut in, flanking Rook and ensuring to keep the RSA students at an arm's length, "the storm started right after you joined Leona in Savanaclaw and hasn't stopped since then. Odds are a certain Dragon is throwing a fit."

The second after Vil's words, a large bolt of lightning struck the spires of the school nearby, making even Vil ruffle his feathers up. The lightning seemed to be throwing off all the students that passed by your group, and you stared out once more. You couldn't help but notice that the lightning has a bright green tint to it.

"Will we be able to do the Spelldrive Tournament if it keeps raining?"

"I assume that Crow will make Malleus calm down or you have to spend the night prior to the Spelldrive with Diasomnia to calm him down enough so the field is dry. I don't relish playing in the mud or getting soaked to the bone in this weather."

Rook entered the mirror with you, the others following suit and it was clear the RSA students were a bit thrown off by the mirror and the lovely sunny weather awaiting them in the Pomefiore dorm. You had only been to Pomefiore a few times when you were being fitted for clothes so it was nice to be at the dorm for a different reason. The many apple trees seemed to stretch out around the large iron gates of the dorm as they slowly swung open to allow your group entry.

Any students nearby were quick to bow their heads to Vil and back away, not wanting to earn the Harpy's ire when he had been in a mildly decent mood despite his pouting earlier in the week. It was clear the lush gardens of the dorm were awaiting your group as several students milled about with copious amounts of photography equipment. From different scale cameras to various sized lenses, even to large flash bulbs for lighting, it seemed a much more involved process than you had anticipated.

Leona caught on quickly to the less than excited way you stared at the many cameras and huffed lightly. He seemed amused by your lack of enthusiasm with the pending events.

"You know, Mousey, you don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"Yes, Leona, I do have to. The best way to combat the one negative photo would be a lot of positive photos instead. So I do have to do this. For me, for Cater, and so I can stay here at Night Raven."

The Lion hummed and frowned at the many students who had begun to race around, trying to get everything in place. You were a bit lost as to the finer details of the photoshoot but figured Vill knew what he was doing. It was then the almost sweet voice of the Harpy Neige spoke up cooing gently as his feathers fluffed.

"Wow, Vil! This is amazing. I always knew you were a high-tier Magicam model, but it is so cool to see the things you have at your disposal for it. Usually Hop or Grum take photos for my magicam. I've only seen commercials and movies with this much production."

"I wouldn't expect anything more from you. Luckily for us, I do know the best cameras for our little photoshoot. Now, hush, the professionals are working."

Ruggie was the one to help you off of the Drider's back, Grim actually jumping to his arms to avoid the many cameras now pointed in your direction. Vil frowned somewhat at the preference the Hellcat showed to the Lion's dormmates before he gently grabbed your arm, pulling you to what seemed to be the center of the setup. With a clap of his hands, several Pomefiore students began to crowd you as they tried to fix up your hair and add makeup they felt would match you best. Vil was spearheading the efforts, using his own magic to change your outfit to that of a comfortable sun dress that reminded you somewhat of the Pomefiore uniform.

"Sorry, could ya- ah, I mean, could you look up for me?"

The student standing in front of you was the same plant-looking effeminate one that had shown up with Vil and Rook at the beginning of the week. He seemed more uncomfortable than the others despite matching the general theme and vibe of the dorm better than the others. You smiled and did as asked, taking interest in the lovely plant man.

"You don't have to talk all fancy around me. I won't get mad at you for it."

"I wish but- ahem- however, Housewarden Vil said it is a rule to talk like this "

"I don't like that rule."

"Honestly? Ah don't like it much either, makes no sense ta-"

Vil sharply cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at you and the plant man in warning. The plant man sighed and almost seemed to try and straighten up despite how uncomfortable it made him seem.

"Epel, I know you would not be callous enough to revert to your 'charming' accent when I have specifically instructed everyone to be on their best behavior and mind their manners."

"Of course not, Housewarden Vil, I was just..."

Before the plant-man- Epel, according to Vil- could continue his sentence, another voice cut in. You weren't as familiar with the voice but recognized the almost too kind tone of Erikír, the Merman prince.

"Careful, plant Nymph, no need to be rude or so dreadfully 'country' in front of fairer company."

You frowned at this, glancing at the grinning Merman who seemed to have no issue judging Epel right off the bat. Something about his tone made it seem like he intended it to be light-hearted and playful, but you couldn't help but take it as rude. Sure, Vil similarly griped at Epel, but it was Vil's duty as Housewarden to scold him. It was not Erikír's duty to do the same.

"Mind yourself, Prince Erikír, I asked him to speak in a comfortable way around me. Do not presume to scold a student not your own for a request I made."

Erikír seemed surprised by your tone and how clipped it had become before he bowed his head, conceding to your wishes. He almost seemed to have a slight grimace but his expression quickly smoothed back into a pleasant smile. That small lapse in behavior had you wondering about Erikír and if he had ulterior motives behind volunteering to guard you. It made you wonder about all of the RSA students.

"My apologies, fair (Y/n). I did not intend to offend."

"It is Vil's place and duty to keep his dormmates in line with the rules of their dorm. It is not your place nor your duty to do the same."

Erikír somewhat winced at your reprimand but Vil was absolutely beaming in pride. He had a clear smirk curling the corners of his lips as he sneered at the visiting student with his crest fully raised. You had half a mind to scold Vil as well, but figured you got your point across as Epel very carefully applied eye-liner to your lower lid. If anything, Epel actually seemed amused with your quick snap at Erikír and seemed much more relaxed around you now.

"There. I'd say it looks darn good- urk-! I mean- you- it looks nice on you. I mean- you always look nice-!"

You chuckled and caught Epel's hand as he stumbled over his words, holding the rough bark-covered limb in your own. The flowers that adorned the leaves making up his hair seemed to all bloom the moment you held his hand and smiled at him. It was clear Epel couldn't find the words to say what he wanted and was rendered almost mute by your friendly behavior towards him.

"Thank you, Epel, you've done a wonderful job."

"Aw, shucks, it ain't all that big a deal... I mean-!"

"I know. I think you should let your accent shine, it is very endearing."

"Sure..."

You could have sworn the Nymph would be blushing if he didn't have bark for skin and sap for blood. Vil was quick to sweep you away from the other Pomefiore students and towards the cameras, where he gave you a thrilled smile and spun you once to get a good look at you. He seemed pleased with what he saw as he nodded to the students behind the cameras.

"Alright, don't worry too much about posing at first, this is a 'casual' and 'natural' photoshoot, so just do what feels natural to you. Feel free to pull any of us into the photos if you wish, I will do my best to compose the photos and may ask for certain poses later as we continue the shoot."

"So I can make you pose for photos too?"

"Of course. I would certainly value any prints we get of the two of us together, but you may wish to pull Rook and even Leona in for a few pictures."

You nodded at this, letting Vil move you around and somewhat pose with you for the first few photos. He genuinely seemed happy to help you into typical model poses, a look of amusement and affection for your attempts to pose with him. How he valued those little moments guiding you as you trusted him to lead you through the casual steps he had long perfected.

All too soon it was over and Vil felt a kind of burning jealousy in his throat as you turned to the others who had mostly agreed to join this little event. Vil pulled away first to allow you to move on despite how he wanted to linger. You were keen to see how the softer Harpy would handle being in the photos with you.

Thankfully, Rook managed to keep Vil from leaping at the smaller Harpy. The Drider saw how you smiled and enjoyed the little dance with the ever lovely Dove Harpy he adored, knowing Neige intended it as a friendly interaction and not the beginning of intimacy as Vil perceived it to be. What did raise Rook's suspicion was how Erikír refused to take his eyes off of you even once, his blue orbs following you closely with every move you made.

You didn't notice the way Vil bristled and let out a low hissing sound as you gently pulled the smaller Harpy towards you. Neige was much more relaxed with the attention than you expected as he happily posed with you and smiled to the cameras that had yet to stop clicking and flashing. He even managed to get a chuckle from you as he cooed softly and seemed to cuddle up against you.

Like Vil, he led you through the different poses easily and made you feel comfortable around him. It was when he began a small somewhat dance of poses with you that Vil almost screamed in anger, clearly upset at the idea of anyone dancing with you, let alone this feathered rat-with-wings Dove. How dare he try to do something so inherently linked with Harpies? Even if they were just poses and not technically an actual dance, it made no difference to Vil.

"Vil, how about you join Neige and I for these next few photos?"

"If I may," Erikír interjected, stepping forward with a hand to his heart as he smiled warmly at you, "may I cut in for a little bit? Surely the presence of several species would lend credence to these photos?"

"Alright, that makes sense."

Erikír was quick to take his place by your side, almost brushing past Neige who happily stepped aside to let the merman approach instead. The Merman gently held your hands and spun you around in his hold, letting your back press against his chest as he moved in a slow progression of poses. Most of the poses he chose involved holding you in some way or having a hand resting on your soft figure as he seemed to almost enjoy the poses a bit too much.

As he moved you to a different pose, you noticed the way he was almost insistent about placing his hands on your stomach, his entire chest pressed against your back as he held you from behind. You were becoming a bit uncomfortable and it must have showed in your expression as Leona suddenly cut in, easily shoving the prince back and away from you as the Lion mimicked the same pose from earlier, only his hands remained on your hips and not your stomach. A soft growl escaped his lips as he glared at the prince who frowned angrily in response.

"Keep your hands in respectable places, little Prince."

The word Prince was spat out and almost hissed as if in mocking to the Merman who had been somewhat monopolizing the pictures in front of the cameras. Leona's words confused you though, and you glanced back at him curiously.

"Respectable places?"

"Don't worry about it, Mousey. I know Humans considered touching stomachs to be a provocative act. I won't let this rude little fish make you uncomfortable."

"... What? You guys do know I don't consider my stomach an erogenous zone... Right?"

It was Leona's turn to be surprised as he raised a brow at you, his scar pulling taut on his skin. He seemed confused as did the other and you sighed, realizing they must have made assumptions again about Humans as a whole.

"Sure, not every Human is okay with their stomachs being touched, and some- especially pregnant women- hate when someone touches their stomach uninvited. But that is an issue with consent, not overtly considered to be sexual behavior because it is their stomach."

Still, if all of them assumed stomachs were an overly sexualized location on Humans, then that meant Erikír was trying to sexualize you. If not sexualize you, then he was attempting to be overly sexual with you. That simply would not stand, even for poses.

"That, however, does not mean it is okay for anyone to touch me without permission. Ever."

"My apologies, I didn't intend-"

"Oh? You didn't intend? If everyone of you assumes my stomach is sexual in nature, then why the hell did you feel alright touching me there?"

"I- I just-"

"You 'just' what? Thought it was okay to cross any boundary you thought existed because you felt like it?"

"No! Not at all! Please, believe me, I was not trying to make you uncomfortable or do anything inappropriate."

"I don't think you need to be in any further pictures, Erikír."

"But I-! Very well. I apologize again for any discomfort I have caused you. I merely intended to befriend you."

"Well, you aren't doing a very good job at that."

You saw the Merman visibly jolt as if he had been struck by your words. A kind of look glinted in his eyes as he seemed to anger for a moment before suddenly calming himself down. He withdrew somewhat from the others and you gave one final glare before continuing to pose with Leona now, who kept his eyes glued to the offending Merman with clear distrust.

Erikír was fuming on the inside, glaring hatefully at the Lion that had outed his more than friendly behavior towards you. If the Lion had not said a word about it, you would have clearly been unaware of the implications of the Merman. He was trying so hard to charm and woo you, yet you came to the defense of the villains every time instead of seeing him as the hero he was supposed to be.

A poisonous feeling of resentment towards the villainous students boiled in the pit of his stomach. You had allowed Neige of all students to dance with you, why was Erikír the one being shunned? He was top of his class and was clearly a physically capable mate, so why choose that obnoxiously kind Harpy and nosey Lion over him?

He would just have to try harder to prove himself a worthy mate by any means necessary.

"Hey!"

A loud and familiar childish voice cut in to the photos you were taking with Leona, glancing over to see Ortho and Idia walking up to the group. Ortho was bouncing excitedly and held out the mechanical skull you recognized as the one Kalim had affected with his magic. It seemed Idia had managed to ensure it wouldn't explode and now sought to return the Skull to you.

"Nee-san! Idi-nii and I checked over and double checked to make sure it was safe!"

The little Shinigami was quick to bolt to your side and the ever nervous Idia followed suit at a much more timid pace than the younger. Idia was visibly distressed by the new faces and seemed to shrink in on himself as Ortho happily handed over the Skull. Though it had appeared inert in his hands, it sparked to life when you touched it and a soothing melody hummed out.

The return of familiar music was incredibly soothing to you and you smiled, humming along with the music as you gently ruffled the flame-hair of the littler Shinigami. Ortho was thrilled at the gentle touch and pressed his head into your hand, his blue flames feeling like gently warmed hair beneath your fingers instead of burning you. It was an unusual feeling, but one you appreciated regardless and it told you about the general nature of Idia and Ortho's hair.

"Thank you, Ortho, Idia. I appreciate the two of you quite a bit."

Idia smiled at this, his cheeks flaming a gentle blue as his hair began to take a somewhat magenta hue. He swayed back and forth as he bit his sleeve and looked away bashfully, clearly soaking up the praise you gave him.

"You don't have to be so sweet about it. It wasn't even that big a deal or that much work. I built them myself, so of course I could tell if anything was out of place. But if you want, you could thank me by gaming with Ortho and I a bit."

"Or," you playfully interjected, "you two can join me for some pictures for my new Magicam account."

Idia visibly balked at the idea and seemed so search for an immediate escape, unable to feel as Ortho grabbed his arm.

"Of course we'll take pictures with you, Nee-san! Papa Hades is gonna love them!"

"No! Wait, wait, wait! You can't spring a raid on me like this Ortho! I didn't even get a ready check-!"

"Let's go!"

You laughed at the brotherly behavior of the two Shinigami, continuing to hum with the music as it felt like you had been given a great gift. Perhaps you could even get Vil interested in a few of the songs you loved so much. Even Grim seemed to be enjoying the little photoshoot as he leaped out if Ruggie's arms and into your own, posing excitedly with Ortho.

Even among the renewed mirth and pulling several of the other monsters into the pictures with you, a certain darkness seemed to hover over one of the students. This monster had lived his entire life hoping he could come across some lonely and adoring Human that he could wed and keep as his own. He was not going to let these villains get in between him and his dream, even if he needed to make one of the others the monster in order to do that.

[ylangelegy]

new traditions 💍 joshua x reader.

it's christmas day and joshua still loves you.

★ fiancé!joshua x reader. ★ word count: 1.3k ★ genre/warnings: fluff, talk about marriage/weddings. heavily inspired by toneejay's bagong tradisyon. ★ footnotes: this is a quick one (a 1/2, if you will), but it's a christmas gift for the first friend i made on here. @chugging-antiseptic-dye, it's a privilege being a carat the same time as you! i offer you your husband (literally), and one of the songs that you & i bonded over. i'm in your corner all the way across the sea. 💌

The brass of the apartment key is cold between your fingers.

You turn it over, absentmindedly tracing its biting and shoulder. This is one of two copies; the original remains in Joshua’s safekeeping.

Speak of the devil, you muse when you hear his faint call of “Love?” from the living room. 

You tear yourself out of your thoughts enough to pocket the key and pad out of the apartment’s one bedroom. What greets you is a sight for sore eyes. Cardboard boxes strewn across the floor, luggage bags practically bursting at the seams. 

In the middle of it is Joshua. Your Joshua. 

After all these years, you’re not any less accustomed to the sight of him— even if it is just him in a black, ribbed tank top. He had opted to dress down, knowing that moving day would entail a lot of hauling and organizing. 

When you step into the room, the initial look of frustration on his expression gives way to something more affectionate. This is what his friends constantly teased him about— how Joshua was so damn soft for you.

It didn’t matter. It was a feeling you reciprocated, anyway. 

“Love,” he starts as he gets to his feet. From the look of it, he had been sorting through the cutlery. “Where did you pack the mugs?” 

You gingerly step through the fort of boxes, your eyes skipping over the tape bearing the contents of each carton. “Should be with the plates,” you note. “It was one of the last boxes you brought in.” 

Joshua lets out a thoughtful hum. In the next five minutes, he finds exactly what he’s looking for. 

“Thank you,” he says distractedly. “Love you.” 

There it was. The easy, unconscious way in which Joshua would dole out those words. It didn’t matter where the two of you might be, whether you were with friends or if it was just the two of you. 

Ordering takeout? I’ll have a pizza. Love you. Visiting his parents’ house? Shop with mom for a bit, ‘kay? Love you. Falling asleep together after a long day? A yawn, and then a quiet exhale. Love you.

To Joshua, loving you was as much of a given as breathing. 

There are times when you underestimate it, when you think the words may lose their gravity because of how often he says them. That had been your fear in the beginning. You kept the words close to your heart, saving them for special occasions and big moments.

Consequently, you don’t respond to him, too distracted by the box containing your pillows and comforters. As always, Joshua refuses to stand for that. 

With a furrowed brow, he abandons his mug-organizing to saunter over to your side. 

“I said,” he says pointedly, his arms finding purchase around your waist. He gently pulls your back to his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder. ���I love you.” 

The petulant tone of his voice draws a laugh from you. You can’t quite turn your head to see his face but you can already imagine the expression he’s sporting. His lips, downturned into a frown. His eyes narrowed slightly. 

“I love you, too,” you respond. You reach behind you, the position a little awkward, as you attempt to pat Joshua’s hip reassuringly. 

He lets out a low scoff. His hands move up to your shoulders so he can ever so carefully turn you around until you’re facing him. 

You’ve never been a particularly superstitious person. Neither is Joshua. Even so, the two of you didn’t want to risk anything, and so you subscribed to every existing credulous belief about moving houses. 

You didn’t do it on a rainy day or a weekday. You opted for a day where the moon phase would be a new moon. Most importantly, you made sure to arrive before six in the morning. The last one was a nod to starting the new day, supposedly promising homeowners a prosperous beginning. 

At first, you had been vehemently against the thought of getting up at the crack of dawn to begin the whole moving process. Now, though, you find yourself grateful for it. 

The sunlight starting to streak through the window has Joshua glowing as he holds you. He’s incandescent, all honeyed skin and warm eyes. The real clincher is that he looks at you like you’re the sun itself. 

“I see how it is.” He heaves out a dramatic sigh, his gaze fond despite his alleged annoyance. “I put a ring on your finger and you get cocky.” 

Said engagement ring glints in the morning light as you go to rest your arms over Joshua’s shoulders. You return his jab with a roll of your eyes.

“Are we really going to fight on our first morning in our new place?” you bite out. 

Joshua responds with an exaggerated gasp. “Who said we’re fighting? I would never fight you. I couldn’t bear to do it.” 

You have half the mind to push the envelope, to insist that his attitude has led to a good number of spats. But there’s a part of you that knows he’s right, too. Joshua would sometimes be on the verge of tears when the two of you were getting into more serious arguments, and it was in large part because he couldn’t stomach the prospect of even raising his voice at you.

When you don’t contest him immediately, Joshua flashes you a winning smile. He rewards your concession with a lingering kiss to your forehead, and you begrudgingly take the ‘prize’. 

His lips are still on the top of your head when he mumbles, “Say that again.” 

“Hm?” 

“I liked the sound of that. ‘Our place’,” he hums as he pulls away to grin at you. 

Joshua wasn’t always vocal about his feelings on your big move, but it was in moments like these that you’re reminded just how badly he wanted it. How he had dragged you to IKEA every weekend in search of the perfect table linens and curtains. How he had gone through all the forms and processes with ruthless efficiency. How he had begun to include it in his prayers, the plea unassuming and full of hope. 

Lord, please let me have this. 

You’ve never been able to deny Joshua a thing. Your fingers go to stroke the short hair at his nape. Instinctively, his eyes flutter close at your ministrations. 

“Our place,” you concede to repeating. “Welcome to our place, love.” 

The dreamy smile that tugs at his lips makes it all worth it. His eyes flutter open, and he stares at you with a new kind of devotion. 

There’s still a lot that the two of you have to do. Joshua has yet to contact an internet provider to get the apartment WiFi. You need to figure out how to transport the bigger pieces that the two of you have purchased, like the couches and the wardrobes. 

But for now—

Joshua leans down to kiss you. And it’s everything. It’s his litany of love you’s throughout the years. It’s the way his hands shook when he got down on one knee. It’s the unpacked couple mugs, and the bed that you’re going to share, and the life that awaits the two of you. 

When he breaks the kiss to breathe, he doesn’t go too far. His mouth is still against yours when he softly says, “This is the best Christmas ever.” 

Initially, you want to agree. Instead, you find yourself whispering back, “No.”

You go on, “We’re going to have a dozen more Christmases together.” 

“A hundred,” he shoots back in between giggles.

You’re not usually one to give in to your fiancé’s hyperboles, but you’re willing to make some exceptions. “A thousand,” you promise, making him laugh a little more. 

Outside, day breaks. 

There is a key in your pocket, a ring on your finger, and your heart in Joshua’s safekeeping.

BONUS — translated toneejay's bagong tradisyon for your reading/listening pleasure. here's to the loves that last us entire lifetimes.

This year The two of us will live Under the same roof Oh, oh You said You're excited to see What our new traditions will be Oh, oh And Christmas will never be sad again Because you have me And I have you Until the end Until we both turn to ash Until the grave Until we both turn to ash Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh Our bodies May grow old But my feelings for you Will stay the same Until the end Until we both turn to ash Until the grave Until we both turn to ash Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh If there is no more love That only means I'm no longer around If there is no more love That only means you're no longer around Until the end Until we both turn to ash Until the grave Until we both turn to ash Oh-oh-oh-oh Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh This year The two of us will live Under the same roof