#mimi's bookshelf

[lvmimis]

cw: set during wano arc right after udon prison is conquered. reader and luffy have been separated since whole cake island arc.

You haven’t shifted in what feels like hours, and perhaps your knees are starting to get tired, but the idea of waking your sleeping love Luffy by moving makes you feel far worse than any lower extremity numbness could. With the deepness of his slumber, the reality is that even if a meteor struck the very earth right now, it probably wouldn’t be able to wake him, and yet even the way you gently stroke his hair is done gingerly, with the lightest of touches. Perhaps a small part of you is compensating for the strange men you’ve let occupy this closeness to your body, and cradling his head in your lap feels like paying a sort of penance for the way you’ve traded away your affections for coin and information over the past few weeks. It’s silly - Luffy wouldn’t care if you sold your body to every person on earth, as long as you chose to stay by him when all was said and done.

Tama peers at you from a distance, the hat she’s braided together for Luffy held tightly in her hand. 

“Do you think he’ll wake up soon?” she asks. “I made him this.”

You smile. “So very kind of you,” you offer her. She smiles brightly, and continues to hold on to it for when the right moment comes, as she walks off. You continue to watch over Luffy as he sleeps, and soon you are no longer looking at him, but through him, playing a conversation in your head that has yet to happen. 

Were you okay (without me)? How did you survive (without me)? 

Did you miss me? We won’t ever be apart again, right?

There is a part of you that attaches so strongly to this man resting in this sacred holding space - stronger than any anchor, woven more tightly than the strongest twine. Luffy is a lifeline to not just you, but many, and yet you wonder just how desperately the others hold on. Can he sense how much you need him? Does he need you even half as much?

Your hand passes carefully across the surface of his cheek. He is so peaceful when he’s asleep, like a gentle breeze, the kind that teases through linens hung out to dry; turbulent and troublesome when he is awake, a strong gust that tears roofs from homes and turns ships into wrecks. Your hand stops, and your fingers cup his cheek gently, holding your world in the palm of your hand. For just a moment, you imagine that there’s a ghost of a smile onto his features, gone just as fast as you perceive it, and your heart skips a beat.

And then suddenly you’re embarrassed. Embarrassed at the weight in your chest and the emotion that wells up inside you just looking at the man you love. Over the time you’ve been apart, you’ve grown to hate men a little - some men, the kind that see you as nothing but a form of entertainment in some way, shape or form, the type that demand to be held by a woman with care without providing any sense of safety or comfort or kindness to remind them that they are not interchangeable, that each lap is different and each bosom is a unique sort of sweetness and each heart has its own idiosyncrasies.

And yet, you could never hate this one man, even if you tried.

You try to focus your eyes on something else, relishing in the lush greens of the forest and the dappled sunlight that peeks through the tall bamboo; you focus your ears not at the thump of your own heart beating but at the bird songs. You try to feel something else other than the rise and fall of his chest.

“Hey.”

The sound of Luffy’s voice can draw you in for miles, and he’s awake now, dark brown eyes heavy-lidded as they look up at you.

It takes you a moment, but breathily you whisper a greeting back at him. “Hey.”

As though still wrought with a fairytale like fatigue, he smiles at you and it turns you into mush.

“I think I forgot how pretty you are,” he mumbles.

The last thing he means to do is to charm you with anything other than the truth, but you can feel tears come to your eyes.

And he senses this, his grin growing wider and more reassuring until the tears splash softly onto him. He brings himself up into a sitting position as you wipe them away, and quickly pulls you against his chest.

He doesn’t have to say it but the way he holds you, you can already tell, he missed you just as much as you did him.

[mims-bshelf]

Neuvillette, breeding. Do what you will plz

Trapped Between His Desire: A Study Session Gone Wrong

Sypnosis: What starts as a playful attempt to distract your boyfriend from studying quickly spirals into something far more intense. A single stolen kiss ignites a fire between you both, and before you know it, the tables have turned. Now, you're the one at his mercy—his full attention solely on you. But can you handle everything he has to give?

Character count: 3124

Tags: explicit, grinding, teasing, fingering, creampies, balls-deep fucking, making-out

CW: Smut, MDNI, vulgar language, suggestive words

Authors note: hope this story isn't so confusing, I was kinda shy trying to use more detailed and vulgar words(⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)

You had made it your mission to distract him. Sitting beside your boyfriend as he tried to study, you poked at his cheek, whispering flirty comments and throwing playful glances his way.

“You’re so cute when you’re focused,” you teased, watching as his jaw clenched in frustration.

“Y/N, please,” he muttered, his patience wearing thin.

You weren’t done yet. Leaning in closer, you let your breath fan against his skin. “Mind if I kiss your cheek?”

“No, you may not,” he said flatly, eyes never leaving his book.

You pouted. “Then… what if you kissed mine?” You gazed up at him with wide, pleading eyes, batting your eyelashes, knowing he wouldn’t resist for long.

With a sigh, he gave in, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your cheek. But just as his lips were about to meet your skin, you turned your head—capturing his lips in a kiss instead.

He froze for a moment, startled by your trick, but before you could pull away, his hand found the back of your head, deepening the kiss. His other hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him. It was as if something inside him had snapped.

Your playful smirk quickly faded as a soft whimper escaped you, his sudden dominance making your heart race. Before you knew it, he had lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bed without breaking the kiss. He pressed you down against the mattress, hovering above you with darkened eyes.

“You like getting my attention, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice husky. His lips brushed against your ear, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. “Let’s see if you can handle all of it.”

Heat pooled in your stomach as he grinded his hips against yours, making you feel just how much he wanted you. Your breath hitched when he tilted your chin up, claiming your lips in a slow, intoxicating kiss. His hands roamed your body, sending waves of anticipation through you before he reached down, his fingers teasingly tracing along your inner thigh.

A gasp slipped past your lips as he finally touched you where you needed him most. His fingers moved with agonizing precision against your sensitive folds, before inserting two fingers inside, curling up your g-spot, drawing out soft moans that only seemed to fuel his desire.

“You’re already trembling,” he mused, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched you unravel beneath him. “And I haven’t even given you the real thing yet.”

Your mind was clouded with pleasure, your body arching into his touch. But just as you were about to reach your peak, he suddenly withdrew, leaving you whimpering in protest. He brought his fingers to his lips, tasting the evidence of your need before his hands moved to his belt, his eyes locked onto yours, heavy with hunger.

When he finally rid himself of the last barrier between you, your breath hitched at the sight of him—thick, hard, and throbbing with need, glistening with anticipation. A knowing smirk crossed his lips at your reaction as he positioned himself between your legs, teasing your entrance with slow, deliberate movements, coating the tip of his shaft with your juices.

“You want this, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You want me to claim you—fill you until you can’t think of anything else but me.”

Your body answered before your lips could, a desperate moan slipping from you as he slowly pushed inside, deliciously stretching you inch by inch. He groaned at the way your warmth clenched around him, his grip tightening on your thighs.

“God… you’re so tight,” he gritted out, burying himself deeper, savoring the way you took him so perfectly, your warm and wet walls massaging his member with each thrust.

Your nails raked down his back as he found his rhythm, his movements steady but deep, dragging out every bit of pleasure he could. Every thrust sent sparks through your body, your moans growing louder as he pressed against all the right spots.

The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure—soft cries, deep groans, the rhythmic meeting of your bodies. He reached between you, his fingers finding your most sensitive spot, drawing tight circles that had you trembling beneath him.

“You feel so good wrapped around me,” he murmured against your skin. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” he then lifted your legs, bringing them up to his shoulders, giving him more entrance to your needy cunt.

You could feel yourself spiraling closer, the intensity of his pace pushing you toward the edge. Your walls clenched around him, drawing a deep growl from his throat as his thrusts became more erratic, more desperate.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he groaned, his grip tightening on your hips as he drove into you harder, deeper. “Make sure you don’t forget who you belong to.”

The moment his words sank in, you shattered, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your cries of bliss sent him over the edge, his body tensing as he buried himself to the hilt, spilling his warmth deep inside you.

For a moment, the world was nothing but heavy breaths and pounding hearts. He looked down at you, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips as he took in the sight of you—flushed, breathless, utterly his.

But as he traced his fingers down your trembling body, his desire flickered once more, seeing you all disheveled beneath him, a blushing cum-filled mess.

“I hope you weren’t planning on sleeping yet,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “Because I’m not done with you.”

Looks like your not going to be able to properly walk in the morning...

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Mimi's Shelf™ - Please do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[lvmimis]

i'm ASCENDING

izuku x f!reader. enemies to lovers au, suggestive but not outright smutty. more about these two can be found here, this idea was workshopped and is co-brainchild of @izvmimi <3333 | wc 1.2k

You roll your shoulders back and smack your lips together, presenting that glowing smile to a crowd of voracious cameras. Izuku shifts uncomfortably in his seat, all too aware of the way you keep glancing at him out of the corner of your eye no matter the distance between you. 

“Our organization, Victims of Hero Sanctioned Violence, thanks you all for your time this evening. With your contributions and willingness to report the truth, we will someday truly have that brighter future we have been promised for all of these years.”

The crowd erupts and Deku rolls his eyes, resting his cheek against his raised fist. There’s no need for over the top formality, you sat him at a table with hecklers who have long since abandoned him to go and spend their evening at the front egging you on. His tie is loosened and his shirt is unbuttoned, messy green waves drooping now that the gel he slicked them back with has started to lose its effectiveness.

You’re only here for her, he reminds himself. 

Whatever exists between the two of you is tentative and unnamed at best yet he’s nothing but a moth to your flame, floating frantically around the light you emanate with so little effort. Everyone in this room is obsessed with you, devouring every single thing that you say like animals drinking from a lake after a drought. 

He hates them. 

His fist flexes against his face and he shifts his posture again, legs spread beneath the tablecloth. A petty part of him hopes that you see his unbotheredness through his positioning alone, clearly disinterested in hearing the latest stats regarding property damage and long term disabilities caused by pro heroes. It’s not his business. He has people who regularly deal with this sort of thing yet here he sits, reaching to further loosen his tie when he feels your dark eyes drift to him, your heels carrying you from the stage and through the crowd that attempts to stop and speak with you every few feet.

This is where he rises, pushing his chair out from the table in front of it, ready to act as a shield between you and these people who believe they’re entitled to access to you merely because they agree with your beliefs. Sauntering toward you, he positions himself between you and the crowd, and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Nice of you to finally do something to protect someone for once, Deku.” 

A member of the crowd spits and he turns his head, emerald eyes gleaming, ready to bite back. You lift your hand and wrap it around his forearm, squeezing once, silently begging him not to make a scene. Scoffing loudly enough that you can hear it, he raises a brow and keeps his gaze trained on the man who apparently has so much to say, watching him realize how outmatched he is in mere moments. The man bows his head and heads in the opposite direction of where the two of you are going, the hallway outside of the banquet room. 

“How can you let them talk to me like that?” He asks and you giggle, squeezing his arm. 

Your fingers don’t meet where they’re wrapped around it and heat rises in your face envisioning something else that your fingers don’t quite meet when they’re wrapped around, gaze dancing up Izuku’s body until they reach his face. Equal parts chiseled and boyish. Perfect. You hate even looking at him yet here you stand, sharing space and four of your five senses with him. 

The final sense, taste, will come later if the way you are looking at him has anything to do with it.

For now though, there is more important business to attend like the intense hunch of his shoulders and the line that is developing between his brows from all of this scowling. 

“They have the right to say what they’re thinking, Midoriya.” You finally speak now that you are released from the overheated hall, taking a deep breath of fresh cool air to calm your nerves and send that rising warmth in your body back to where it came from. “Being a pro hero doesn’t shield you from criticism, it only makes you less likely to hear it in the first place.” 

He chuckles and that heat you were attempting to will away returns in an instant, cheeks and chest and parts even lower aflame just at the sound of his voice. You shouldn’t even be humoring him, much less actively wanting him, silently scolding yourself to keep it professional despite his obvious attraction to you. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want you, the woman beneath the carefully crafted facade you keep up.

“Yeah but it’s not very nice, is it? I didn’t call that guy a loser to his face and I should have.”

Snorting, you shake your head and glance up at him, those doe-like eyes blinking so prettily all he can do is match you. Open, close, open, close. Perfectly synced like your breaths. Easy, just as he seems to have found the coat closet, pushing the door open and pulling you in behind him. 

“I can’t force them to be nice to you. Remember, you volunteered to be here to represent all pro heroes, not just yourself.”

Izuku spins you so that you face him, chest pressed against his torso, face barely coming chin level to his massive pectorals. Your eyes dip to the exposed skin at his collar and you bite your lower lip without thinking, his hands sliding over your hips and ass, gently squeezing and massaging the flesh beneath your silk dress.

“Okay but how are you going to make it up to me?”

You roll your eyes and look up at him, letting your arms rest near his belt, taking your time undoing the buckle.

“Why do I need to make it up to you? As I said, you’re here voluntarily.”

He shrugs, his own lower lip tucked between his teeth momentarily while he watches you work, slowly sinking to a squat position with your heeled feet pressed together. Manicured fingers pull the zipper of his tuxedo pants down, his already half hard cock pressing against your cheek while you rub your face against it.

“Would this make you feel better?” You ask, glancing up at him with those same pretty eyes he fell for the first time he ever saw them in person. He nods once, gaze remaining locked on your elegant movements while your fingers slip beneath the waistband of his boxers. The leaking tip of his cock springs free and you lean in to lick it tentatively, Izuku bracing himself against the row of luxury label coats behind him. 

For being an upstart, VOHSV sure has some wealthy donors. It’s a thought for another time though, his mind melting out of his ears while your tongue dances around the underside of the head of his dick, a whimper escaping him.

“Quiet or you get nothing,” you mumble around the salty taste of his skin. 

All he does is nod and purses his lips, pressing one large palm over the bottom half of his face.

[shmaptainwrote]

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐀𝐈𝐑, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 [𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS – Violet Bridgerton x fem!Gardener!Reader

SUMMARY — Violet gets her garden tended to, both literally and figuratively.

WORD COUNT — 7.1K

WARNINGS — 18+ NSFW MDNI, just lots of longing and touch straved themes

NOTE — This fic I think may be one of my favourite things I've ever written. I don't want to say too much about it, but I hope it makes all you feel the same things it made me feel as I was writing it. A special thank you to @mystic-writings for beta'ing and cheering me on and @loveindiravarma for providing the video for the middle GIF

Violet never liked when she had to let go of staff, but sometimes it just had to be done. Anthony was tremendously busy (with his impending wedding to the elder Miss Sharma) and so in the end, the responsibility fell on Violet.

She had to say although the whole ordeal was rather unpleasant, she somehow seemed to be graced with an easy decision when it came to filling the position of gardener. 

Violet would admit she was a little surprised by how it all played out. First, she wasn’t expecting a woman to come and speak with her about the job, but every single quality she was looking for in an applicant was met. She didn’t waste her time in making a decision and decided to hire on the spot.

She found herself more willing to go out into the garden, to explore while work was being done, unafraid to get in the way or be curious because she never felt like she was imposing. She did know it was technically her family’s home, but there was something about watching someone while they worked that just seemed rather intrusive and she usually avoided it. 

“Lady Bridgerton,” your voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked up at you with a smile. “I just started pruning and was going to come and ask you a question about how you wanted the bushes. You seem to have saved me some leg work.”

“I’m much obliged, miss. How can I be of assistance?” she asked, coming closer to you and the bush of flowers you were working on. 

“I was thinking perhaps to pick a few peonies to put inside the house in vases and then trim down the size a bit so it isn’t overtaking the garden quite so much, what are your thoughts?” 

Violet pressed her lips together and gazed at the bush for a moment. The peonies did seem to be in such a bloom, reaching out on every side almost running completely wild. She supposed that was part of the reason she got a new gardener in the first place. 

“Trim it,” she nodded. “They do seem like they need to be…controlled.” 

You chuckled a little and clipped one of the flowers, handing it to her. 

“If I may, my Lady, I don’t think controlled is quite the right word,” you said. “Moreso…guided, manicured, taken care of.” 

Violet smiled at what you said, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips, “Yes, quite right,” she nodded. “Thank you.” 

“Of course, my Lady. Your company is always welcome.” 

She pressed her lips together and wished you a good day before continuing to walk through the gardens. 

As the day passed, Violet found herself carrying the peony you had given her to everything she did around the house, playing with the stem, feeling the petals between her fingers until in the evening she sat in her chambers, alone and dressed for bed the flower sitting on her vanity staring back at her. 

After staring at it for what seemed like hours she finally picked it up and brought it to her nose, inhaling its scent and perfume, closing her eyes and just letting her mind wander along with the intoxicating scent, feeling a warmth grow in her core, causing her breath to hitch and for her to abruptly open her eyes. 

She took in a couple of shakier breaths, placing the flower back down on the vanity and standing up, turning away from it, unable to justify her own thoughts in her head. 

She moved to the pitcher of water that sat next to a bowl and poured some of it inside, gently splashing her face with the water, before resting her hands on the table and leaning over the bowl, letting small droplets drip from her nose and chin back into the bowl. 

A pressure began to build up in her chest and all of a sudden she was taking deeper, more laboured breaths until she grabbed the towel and wiped her face clean with a certain roughness and frustration before letting her arms drop to her side while her back leaned against the table. 

She looked over again at the peony and licked her lips, her hand moving to her chest, rubbing back and forth to try and rid herself of some of this ache, or rather distract from it. 

It wasn’t much use, so instead she closed her eyes and took in a deep, shaky breath, discarding the towel on the table and moving towards her bed, slipping underneath the covers and begging for sleep to wash over her. 

—

“Mama, when are we going to join Anthony and Kate at Aubrey Hall?” Hyacinth asked one morning over breakfast.

“Soon, dearest,” she assured her youngest daughter. “Lady Danbury will be joining us there, I just have a few more things I have to arrange for before we can leave.” 

“I do not want to go to the country,” Gregory pouted. “We’ve been there three times already this year.” 

“The country air will do us all some good,” Violet told her children. “We will go spend time with your brother and his wife as a family and we will all enjoy it. Understood?” she gave Gregory one of her looks that wasn’t so much threatening as it was lovingly stern. 

“Yes mama,” Gregory nodded and looked back at his food with a sigh making his other siblings chuckle. 

Violet finished up her breakfast and excused herself from the table, going to take care of things with the staff who would be left at the house in their absence and going out for an appointment with the modiste, unable to do her own alterations at the same time as her daughters. 

When she returned she had one thing on her list to complete before finalizing all of the packing to be ready to leave tomorrow. 

She made her way to the garden and saw you diligently working away at pulling some weeds from the soil around the rose bushes and while she was busy admiring your work, you caught her gaze and welcomed her with a smile on your face. 

“Lady Bridgerton,” you stood up and bowed your head, removing your working gloves and tossing them to the side. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes actually there is,” she nodded. “As you know the family and I are going to join Anthony at Aubrey Hall tomorrow and I was wondering if you might join us to help tend to the gardens there.” 

You looked a little surprised at her proposition, but nodded your head. 

“I would love to, my Lady, but may I ask a question?”

“Of course,” she pressed you to go on. 

“I thought there was a gardener who took care of Aubrey Hall, it was my understanding that my responsibilities would not extend past Bridgerton House.” 

“Under normal circumstances they wouldn’t,” Violet agreed with your sentiment. “It is just that our other gardener has, like my son, recently gotten married and Anthony was in a generous mood and gave him time to spend with his new wife so the gardens there have not been tended to in some time. I feel as though the plants here could surely survive a while longer in your absence, especially since you have done so much work with them already.” 

“I see,” you smiled. “In that case I would be more than happy to join you at Aubrey Hall, my Lady.” 

“Splendid,” she let out a small relieved breath. “I have arranged for you to come in a carriage with my maid Mrs.Wilson. There are quarters for a gardener on the far end of the property that you will be most welcome to stay in during your time in the country. It hasn’t been used for quite some time as Mr. Henry lives in the village and walks to Aubrey Hall every day.” 

“Wonderful, I shall finish with these weeds then begin packing,” you motioned to the soil below you and Violet nodded her head with a smile before wishing you a good rest of your day and heading back inside to arrange some packing of her own (and make sure Gregory and Hyacinth in particular were doing the same…and come to think of it Eloise, Benedict, and Colin as well). 

She was content that evening to be stressing over her impending travels instead of allowing herself to drift into madness like she felt she had been doing so often these past few days. As she lay in bed, the blanket pulled up to her chin as she curled underneath the covers, she really did hope that the country air might provide her even with a moment's respite. 

—

“I never knew you to be interested in gardening, mama.”

Violet turned her head upwards at Eloise’s voice as she had caught sight of her staring out of the window at you while you took out some potted plants and re-planted them into the soil. 

“Oh, yes,” Violet nodded her head. “Gardening, it’s very…” her voice trailed off and she didn’t even attempt to finish her sentence, her eyes still closely watching you. 

Eloise gave her mother a look of confusion, trying to gather what was going on, but clearly not understanding the situation at all. 

“It’s very what?” she asked, pulling her mother out of her thoughts once more. 

“It’s an art,” Violet ended up saying, turning her head to face Eloise, a polite, albeit slightly strained, smile on her face. “To tend to a garden takes knowledge, care, and an eye for a certain…” 

“Je ne sais quoi?” Eloise offered and Violet nodded her head. 

“Exactly.” 

Eloise watched you with her mother for a moment before leaving her to her own devices so she could go read for a bit before playing pall mall with her siblings and new sister-in-law. 

Violet thought a little more to herself about what it took to take care of a garden. It was true that it required knowledge and care, but gardens also flourished with love and tenderness, with touch and air and sunlight. 

Just as she thought of the sun, it peeked out from behind the clouds, just for a moment shining in through the window and Violet allowed herself to bask in its warmth. Shutting her eyes and letting each golden ray envelop her and touch her skin and set it aglow. She took in a deep breath and let out a soft sigh, relishing that feeling of something against her body, some warmth. 

“Lady Bridgerton?” 

“Hmm,” Violet bore a soft smile on her face, her eyes still closed for a moment before she turned her head and opened them, seeing her friend standing before her. “Oh, Lady Danbury. You must excuse me I was just-” 

“Basking?” she asked with a raised brow, leaning on her cane. 

Violet chuckled a little sheepishly. 

“Yes,” she nodded. “Would you care to join me?” 

“I think I would,” she said as Violet moved over slightly so that she could join her on the small couch that faced the window. “Miss Eloise has told me that you’ve been observing the gardening that is happening.” 

“Yes,” Violet nodded again, she didn’t have many words to say as her eyes fell on you again, watching your every movement. 

“Or perhaps there is a gardener that has caught your eye?” 

“Yes-Wait Agatha!” Violet turned her head as soon as she’d realized how she’d answered, shocked her friend could even suggest such a thing. 

Lady Danbury’s face was not one of shock or even intrigue, she just let her hands simply rest on the head of her cane and continued to look out of the window. 

Violet was so flustered she could feel her cheeks growing more red by the second as she figured out what she was going to try and say to cover up her answer. 

Before she could think of something, Lady Danbury spoke again. 

“I suppose a gardener has many admirable qualities,” she began. “They are very meticulous, they know how to…tend to things.” 

Violet pressed her lips together, she didn’t dare look over at her, instead just focusing on her hands in her lap.

“You wouldn't tell anyone, would you?” Violet asked quietly. 

“What is there to tell,” Lady Danbury shrugged. “You are simply a Lady who enjoys her garden.” 

Violet smiled a little to herself and looked out of the window ahead into the field, placing a hand on her friend’s which still rested on the head of her cane. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

Lady Danbury nodded her head. 

“There is no harm in looking, Violet.” 

She continued to press her lips together, there may not have been a harm in looking, but what about when that fuelled some sort of desire she did not know how to control. 

Violet removed her hand from Lady Danbury’s and smoothed out her dress, standing up. 

“I should go. I think I can hear Hyacinth and Gregory arguing. Probably about something pointless.” 

Lady Danbury gave Violet a compassionate smile which she returned, but it left her face as soon as she turned away and headed towards the voice of her children. If she couldn’t seem to control her staring when you were around then perhaps she’d just have to make sure she wasn’t around you. 

—

When Violet was in the country and she found herself needing to clear her head she often sat on the bench next to her husband’s grave. She was usually better prepared, bringing flowers and maybe something special to leave there, but she didn’t have the wherewithal today to do anything other than sit.

Her children would all make their rounds eventually, especially the older ones, but often they liked to do it alone, taking the quiet moment as one of reflection, or perhaps they took the silence as an opportunity to talk with their father. 

Violet preferred to reminisce. 

To close her eyes and play through scenes in her head, a memory, a feeling until often she stopped herself before tears could stream down her cheeks. 

Today she felt her eyes flutter shut as the wind blew against her face, her breath was caught in her throat as she swore she could feel her late husband’s arms wrap around her. Ten years and she could still remember how his hands would mould to her sides, how his chin would rest against her shoulder from behind, the feeling of his breath like a gentle warm breeze against her cheek. 

She heard the crunch of twigs off to the side and she opened her eyes to see what had made the sound.

She saw you with your back turned to her and she frowned out of confusion for a moment before calling your name, encouraging you to turn around and face her. 

“I apologize, my Lady. I didn’t realize you were here,” you said quietly. “I just noticed there weren’t any flowers so I thought I might bring some by. The staff has told me you normally bring hyacinths.” 

Violet felt her lips pull into a sad soft smile as she nodded her head. 

“Yes…I was just a little preoccupied today,” she admitted. 

You tested the waters and came a little closer, and then a little closer until you could rest the flowers down by the large headstone. 

Violet watched as your hands moved to adjust a few things, not moving from your position until the flowers were perfect. 

When you stood up, you didn’t take the time to admire your work like you normally did and moved away to give Violet her privacy, and despite all that she had told herself a few days ago, she found herself speaking before her mind could catch up. 

“You could stay for a moment, if you’d like.” 

You paused and looked over at the Viscountess, she didn’t necessarily meet your gaze, her eyes still on the flowers you had brought. 

“I could stay if you’d like me to,” you said softly, not wanting to overstep her politeness. 

She nodded her head, her eyes still on the flowers and placed a hand on the empty spot next to her on the bench. 

You pursed your lips and clasped your hands behind your back as you walked towards the bench, lowering yourself down next to her and moving your hands to your lap. 

You didn’t say anything, simply watching Violet and waiting for her to make the move, to start a conversation if that’s what she wished, but perhaps she just wanted someone to sit in silence with her to offer a hand of comfort and before you realized what you were doing your hand had inched over towards hers that was still resting on the bench next to you. 

When Violet felt the warm touch of your hand against hers she had to keep her head turned for a moment, not expecting you to do such a thing. 

Confused by her reaction, you quickly retracted your hand in case you had overstepped, but as soon as the contact was lost, Violet turned her head back to you. 

“Is everything alright, my Lady?” you asked. 

She bit the inside of her cheek and nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak and instead looking straight ahead out into the field. She closed her eyes only for a moment, simply feeling the warmth radiate off your skin only for it to be blown away by the cool breeze. 

When she opened her eyes she noticed your hand in front of her, holding a handkerchief. She moved her own hand to her cheeks feeling the wet streaks against her skin. 

She took the handkerchief from you, with one hand, but then reached out with the other before you could pull away. You carefully brought your other hand and clasped hers between them. She could feel every callous along your palm, a rough exterior for such a gentle and caring touch. 

She sniffled and moved her free hand over her mouth, her fingers curled as if in contemplation. 

You stayed like that until you could hear the thunder rumble in the distance. You removed your hands from around hers, noticing how she almost shivered at the loss of warmth. 

“We should go before we get caught in the rain,” you said quietly. 

Violet nodded her head and watched as you wished her a good rest of her day before leaving and she sat there a while longer, looking down at her hands in her lap, the handkerchief still wet with tears, and she imagined that this wasn’t the last time this cloth, this piece of fabric would be witness to her sorrows.

—

Violet was never one to sneak around, but when the house was filled with her family and their staff on occasion she would find herself waiting for a moment where she could be away and for no one to know where she was. 

It was practically impossible to slip out unnoticed during the day, so she went through her usual evening routine with her maids, but sat at her vanity, waiting until the sun had just set and everyone was fast asleep to open the door of her room and peek down the hallway, stepping into it and making her way to the doors that led outside. 

The air nipped at her skin, making the hair on her arm stand on its end, despite the cover from her robe which she now wrapped tighter around her as she walked down the stairs and through the garden. She didn’t really think about what she was doing or where she was going, perhaps it was just simply away. 

Darkness fell upon the country and she appreciated the privacy it gave, but clearly it could only give so much.

It seemed as though she had walked all the way to the edge of the property where the gardener’s quarters were and there was still a shadow of a figure outside bent over what looked like potted plants. 

She watched curiously as she got closer and possibly hearing the squish of her feet against the wet soil, you looked up and saw her. It was safe to say you were a little confused at the sight before you and quickly dusted your hands off on a towel. 

“Lady Bridgerton is that you?” you called, squinting into the darkness, trying to get a better look. 

“Yes,” she called back. “What on earth are you doing gardening at night?” 

“I suppose I might ask the same of you and your promenade, my Lady,” you said. “These flowers bloom at night, I was just coming to take a look at them.” 

You beckoned her to come closer and take a look at what you were observing. As she came towards you, you noticed similarly to yourself she was dressed in a nightgown, only she had a robe pulled over top of her as well. 

It was interesting to see her in this light, or perhaps this darkness, her hair falling into loose curls on either side of her shoulders. There was no rouge on her cheeks, but the cold air seemed to do the trick regardless, welcoming a rosy colour on her skin. 

She bent down to examine the flowers you spoke of, gently touching the petals and smiling seeing how they reached up towards the moonlight. 

Before either of you could speak you were interrupted by the rumble of thunder and a trickle of rain which quickly turned into a downpour. 

You opened the door to the small cabin and ushered Violet inside, slipping in after her, lucky you were close by and did not get caught in the worst of it.

“I’m not sure it will be a good idea for you to go back, my Lady,” you looked outside. “It’s pouring, you’d catch a cold.”

You looked back over at her and she was wiping a few drops of rain from her face, but after seeing how hard the downpour was she came to the same conclusion. 

“I know it’s hardly as glamorous as what you have in Aubrey Hall, but you can take my bed,” you said. “I have a mat I can use to sleep on the floor.” 

“Are you quite sure?” Violet asked. “I know you did not plan on having a guest tonight, I do not mean to intrude.” 

“It’s not an intrusion, my Lady. Simply unconventional company,” you shrugged, pulling the mat out from where it was kept and laying a sheet overtop of it along with a blanket and a pillow. “Your family won’t worry about you out here?” 

“They don’t know I’m here,” she said. “I’ll be fine for one evening.” 

You nodded your head and sat down on the mat, watching as she followed your lead with the bed. 

The fire flickered a soft warm light into the room and you sighed, wrapping your hands around your legs. 

“Goodnight, my Lady.” 

“Goodnight,” she whispered and turned to lay back down on the bed and you allowed yourself to do the same. 

You tried to close your eyes and fall asleep, after a hard day of working outside usually you didn’t have much trouble. You stayed still with your eyes closed for what felt like hours before you really began to give up and open your eyes. 

When you did, you looked over at the bed and saw Violet seemingly in a similar predicament, tossing until she landed on her back, staring up at the ceiling, not noticing your gaze on her. 

It felt wrong to watch her, especially when she must have assumed you were fast asleep, but there was something that forced you to stare, to not turn your eyes away. 

You saw her hand reach out to touch her neck, like she was trying to remember a feeling. One hand rested just below her breast while the other hovered for a moment, hesitating to come down, but when it did, both hands wrapped themselves around her midsection as she turned back onto her side, facing the wall. 

You bit your lip and wondered how many nights she’d spent like this since her husband had passed away.

Alone. 

Aching. 

Lady Violet Bridgerton was a woman who the ton saw as constantly surrounded by others, but in the times you had seen her, you’d seen past the crowds of family and friends that encompassed her. You saw a woman who longed for something she didn’t feel she had the right to ask for. 

You turned onto your back and closed your eyes again, the sound of the rain crashing down on the house drowning out any further thoughts you might have, and as the smell of fresh soil, grass, and newly potted plants filled your nostrils, you closed your eyes and hoped that Violet would find whatever it was she was looking for. 

—

Violet stared up at the intricate design of her four poster bed frame. A kaleidoscope of shapes, diamonds and triangles carved into wood, dizzying in their patterns. 

She felt her hands move from where they rested against her chest, tracing along her skin before moving overtop of fabric, down her chest, towards her stomach where the fabric of her nightgown was already bunched up, having fallen from her knees down to her hips. 

She let her eyes flutter closed as she began to put pressure at the base of her stomach, gathering the courage to let her hands go lower. 

Just as her hand was about to slip past the point of fabric, to touch skin again, she felt someone gently grasp her hand. 

She opened both her eyes and her mouth to let out a gasp of surprise, but a finger came to her lips, quieting her.

“Shh, shh,” it was a gentle hush, her mouth unable to shut as she saw you lean over top of her, the shapes and patterns surrounding you from above sending her into a spiral. “Let me take care of that for you.” 

Violet could feel her bottom lip begin to tremble against your finger as she felt your other hand start its path from her ankle, moving up her shin, past her knee, and onto her thigh. 

She let out a light gasp as your fingers reached closer to her core, her own hand pressing against her stomach in some attempt to steady herself. 

She knew she had to do something while she still had her wits about her, so she lifted her other hand to wrap around the back of your neck, holding the side of your face, bringing you down so your forehead was pressed against hers, your noses touching as your fingers slipped inside her. 

She gasped with each movement, pulling you closer, her eyes closed, her nose scrunched, her mouth unable to shut, her breathing and quiet moans the only sound that filled the room. 

Violet couldn’t gather her senses, teetering towards the edge of something a long groan caught in the back of her throat.

Violet opened her eyes, taking in a gulp of air and quickly pushing herself up in her bed. 

She looked around her room, it was dark and empty. She looked up to her bedframe, the shapes causing her mind to spin as your face flashed before her. 

Her skin was sticky with sweat, the fabric of her nightgown clinging onto her as she covered her face with her hands for a moment, steadying her breathing before running her hands through her hair and pulling her knees to her chest, trying to ignore that pit of need in her stomach. 

She rested one arm across her knees, the elbow of her other arm using it as a rest while she ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at it, hoping the pain might pull her away from her thoughts. 

Moving on to pinch the bridge of her nose, she fell back onto the mattress, staring at the wall, too afraid to look up and be reminded of her dream, too afraid to close her eyes and let her subconscious gain control once more.

So she stayed like that, in bed, staring at the wall until the sun leaked into the room telling her she was finally safe, or so at least she thought. 

—

A few days had passed and Violet had barely left her room. She told her family she was feeling unwell and needed to rest, but in reality, she spent most of her time still dressed in a nightgown, sitting on the chaise lounge, looking out at the clouds that loomed overhead. 

When she opened the window to allow for some fresh air to enter the room, she could smell the rain in the air, the clouds making their way towards Aubrey Hall seemed to match her suspicions and she knew that evening she wouldn’t confine herself to her room any longer. 

Across the property, you had the Sunday off and used the time to enjoy the clear skies while they lasted, finding company in yourself, bouncing between a book and cooking a few things for yourself to eat while you mentally planned how the rest of your week would look like, assigning areas of the property based on priority and need. 

Gardening was hard work, there was no question about it. But the results were always worth it, every single time without fail. Looking at the finished product and being able to see beauty and order in something so wild and free. 

As the evening rolled in, and the grey sky was replaced by the deep navy that visited every night, you made your way back inside, boiling the pot of water for a cup of tea while you heard the rain begin to patter outside, drop by drop until it was continuous and loud against the roof of your cabin. 

You didn’t expect to do much else aside from sit and enjoy your drink, perhaps read a few more chapters of your book when you heard a knock at your door. 

Not knowing who was on the other side, you grabbed your robe and wrapped it around yourself before going to the door and opening it.

Your hand immediately flew to your mouth, “Lady Bridgerton…” your voice trailed off as you took in her appearance, in nothing but a nightgown, completely soaked, mud lining the bottom of it, her hair stringy and stuck to the sides of her face. You quickly opened the door wider and pulled her inside and out of the cold, closing the door behind you. “What happened?”

“Mistimed my evening promenade,” she said quietly. “I-I was closer to here than the hall…” 

You nodded your head and moved her over towards the stool in front of the fire, sitting her down and moving away to rummage through your things to find a towel, bringing it to her and wrapping it around her shoulders. 

She looked up at you, her lashes still dripping with water and you bent down next to her, tucking her hair behind her ears so it didn’t stick to her face, lifting the towel slightly to help wipe away some of the water that was still dripping down her face. 

You didn’t even think twice about the familiarity, unable to bring yourself to just leave her alone like that. And perhaps you didn’t think twice because she didn’t so much as flinch with your touch, if anything she leaned into your hand. 

“My Lady, you risk catching a cold in such weather,” you said softly. 

“I know,” she whispered. “I should be more careful.” 

“Does your family not know you have come outside?” you asked and she nodded her head. 

“I just needed a moment alone.” 

“According to your daughter, moments alone are all you’ve had these past few days,” you said. “Miss Eloise said you were unwell.” 

“I-I was,” Violet nodded. “What I meant is that I needed some fresh air after being in my chambers for so long.” 

You nodded your head and respected her answer, standing up from beside her and bringing her the cup of tea you had made for yourself in hopes that it would speed up the process of warming her up as the towel and fire helped to dry her off. 

When you saw her finally begin to get back to her normal temperature you realized there was no way she could stay in her current clothes, the bottom of her dress now caked with dry mud. 

You stood up again and went to the dresser, looking through a few things before finding what it was you wanted and bringing it to her in exchange for the empty cup. It was a nightgown, left in the cabin perhaps by a previous gardener’s wife, but it looked like it would fit Violet and it could do the trick for the night. 

She took it from your hands and slowly stood up, removing the towel from her shoulders before going into the small washroom to get changed. 

You hung the towel to dry by the fire while you waited and just as she exited the washroom with her dirtied nightgown in hand she saw you reaching for the mat you had slept on last time. 

“Why don’t you stay with me on the bed,” Violet said. “I could not impose on your kindness more than once.” 

You pressed your lips together and looked down at the mat in your hands. 

“I insist. It is big enough for both of us.” 

“Just barely, my Lady,” you looked at her just to make sure that she was absolutely certain. 

“Either we both sleep on the bed or I shall take the mat this time,” she said. “You’ve already done a lot for me tonight, I cannot possibly take your place of rest as well.” 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek and let go of the mat, sliding it back into its place between the bookcase and the wall. 

You motioned for her to take her spot on the bed, and she did so after folding her gown and placing it off to the side, sliding underneath the covers and moving to the side next to the wall. When she was settled you came in next to her, turning your back to hers, staring out the window at the rain pouring down on the property. 

The sound brought you back to that previous evening, under similar circumstances. 

You recalled the way she wrapped her arms around herself, how she tossed and turned and it made you think about tonight, how incredibly still she was lying, how she had melted into your touch. 

You felt your mouth begin to open and before you could stop yourself you asked, 

“My Lady, why were you outside tonight?” 

“I-I told you I wanted some fresh air,” she repeated her response from before. 

“What I mean to say…is why were you really outside?”

You could hear Violet swallow thickly. 

She fumbled over an excuse, her mind unable to give her a good enough lie to cover up. 

You turned so that you were on your back, now staring at the ceiling. 

“You must have known it was going to rain tonight,” you said quietly. “You saw the clouds and you still came out…” 

Your tone was not accusatory, but instead more of a query, like you were trying to figure out her logic, how this all worked out in her mind. 

Violet went silent at your comment, the only sound in the room was that of the rain coming down outside over the cabin. 

You are now turned fully, facing her back, the quiet intimacy of the moment giving you all the courage you needed to ask. 

“Why are you here? What is it you want, Lady Bridgerton?” 

When she did not respond to you, you whispered again, 

“Violet…What are you-” 

“Touch me…please.” 

Her voice was so quiet and strained, it was the most desperate plea you’d ever heard. 

Violet lay there, curled so tightly, the silence following her request so deafening, but anything was better than sitting like that for one more moment trying to figure out what to do with herself. She would rather sit in utter mortification than go another second with that fire burning in the pit of her stomach. 

And just as she thought nothing would come, she felt a brush against her neck, moving her hair back, over her shoulder, tracing a line that burned like hot metal on her skin. 

The hand moved back over her shoulder towards her chest, tracing a path that was so familiar, following every movement she had once done herself, from below her breast, across her ribcage until she felt a wall of warmth all across her back. 

Her breathing grew shakier with each prolonged touch, as an arm slipped under her waist, wrapping around her fully until she was held, until she could no longer feel that ache in her bones, that clenching in her heart. 

She focused on your hands, how they held her, how your body pressed against hers felt like sunlight. 

Your hand stayed where it was for a few moments, but before long, Violet felt it move from where it was draped over her waist and across her stomach, coming to her hip, your fingers gently grabbing the fabric and tugging upwards. 

One. 

Two.

Three. 

Four times. 

Four times was when the hem of the gown was finally between your fingers, when you could slide your hand between skin and fabric, making Violet shudder as you followed the curve of her body upwards, higher and higher until her breast was cupped in your hand and she turned her head towards you as much as she could, her breathing coming in heavier, needier. 

Your chin rested in the crook of her shoulder, your breath against her face felt like air. 

Your other hand, still wrapped around her, took advantage now that her nightgown was lifted so high, sliding lower, across the skin of her abdomen, under the fabric of her underwear, her breathing coming in anticipatory gasps until you finally reached where she was expecting, a moan escaping past her lips. 

Your touch felt like care, like water on the dry soil of a dying plant. 

You moved your hand in such a way that you could run your fingers along her before gently sliding them into her, you looked up at her, pushing yourself up, putting more pressure against her breast, her mouth open but nothing leaving but pants and sighs. 

You continued to move your fingers in and out, a slow rhythmic pace at first, watching with each movement how her chest heaved, how she moaned and whimpered when she wanted more. 

Your touch satisfied that hungry need in the pit of her stomach, but it also soothed the ache in her heart as you didn’t loom over her or sit next to her. 

You held her, her back pressed into your chest in a hold so familiar yet different it felt dizzying, especially when your thumb brushed against a sensitive spot as you moved your fingers prompting Violet to let out a loud gasp of surprise just as you moved your thumb back to continue its movement and pressure against her. 

Violet tried to find words, but none came out of her mouth, the only thing escaping was breathless want. 

Seeing her as she was, you could only think of the flowers you tended to, reared from mere bulbs into bright, colourful, plentiful bushes. How each year you would wait patiently until there was that one tipping point and the flower would open and from there it would bloom without bound.

Here Violet was, in that delicate stage, at that tipping point and you were ready to see the finished product. 

You pressed onwards, giving her more, listening as her moans and whimpers that she desperately tried to hold back came out needily, higher and higher until her eyes screwed shut, her nose scrunched, her mouth open as it let out one last sharp sigh before the waves of pleasure had finished washing over her and her face relaxed, her eyes still closed, lips still parted. 

You carefully removed your fingers, conscious of how sensitive she was, taking your hand out from underneath her, while the other gently let go of her breast, slipping out from underneath her nightgown to come and turn her face back upwards, towards you. 

Your hand was gentle in its caress, in its guidance, and Violet felt her eyes fluttering open as her head was turned. 

The fire crackled in the background, but its sound was drowned out by the rain, its light shining over Violet’s skin in a golden hue, every freckle illumined and sparking. The light that struck her eyes hit her irises in a certain way, giving warmth and life to their cool blue colour. 

You leaned down a little closer, admiring all these small things about the Lady that was lying in front of you. You leaned down until your forehead rested against hers and her eyes fluttered shut again, as did yours, her lips still parted, her breathing still heavy. 

You guided her chin up a little more, closing the gap with your own lips, pressing against hers so faintly. Everything about the kiss felt cautious whereas every other touch felt assured, that was until Violet lifted her head more, fully pressing her lips against yours, relying on your hand to hold her, to keep her steady until she could reach out with her own arms holding your neck, your waist, feeling the shape of you against her hand, her fingers. 

There may have been no harm in looking, but surely touching was much better. 

As your lips parted and you moved away only slightly to look at her once more, your hand brushing aside some hair that had come to cover her face. She moved her own hand to hold yours that was against her face, turning her head to kiss it. 

You moved to lower yourself next to her on the bed and she made the effort to turn and face you. From there it was easy for her to be wrapped up in your arms and to wrap her arms around someone other than herself. 

A few months ago Violet had hired a gardener, but little did she know that gardener would eventually tend to her.

[ojamajoprincess]

Almost have the whole series! I’ve been buying these on and off for the last couple of years, to read once I have them all :D

Most recent series I’ve collected:

Witch Hat Atelier

Hellsing special edition

Love me for who I am

I might try and collect some secondhand market books next. Maybe Day of Revolution, or Princess Princess? Gangsta. would be cool to have in its entirety, considering the anime ended like it did. I only have 4 volumes of Hikaru no Go, but there’s 22 of those :o I would love to have Tricornered Window in print, but alas— it is only published digitally.

Standalone manga are good too! I have Our Dining Table and Boy Meets Maria. Maybe I’ll shop the online rec lists.

[eternal--returned]

poor Mimi Trochi she is porbably the most beautiful woman I know and young too, still young, but she keeps running into trouble, twice in the madhouse, shacked up and deserted beyond counting but she knows I am one of those rare old-fashioned men and she comes to me for strength but all I can give her are hot kisses, And we are always interrupted by lightning or chance or bad luck and poor Trochi and I never seem to get beyond the hot kisses, and I am usually luckier that way, and she certainly must be—if you want to call it luck— with her several children to prove it.

for one of the handsomest women on earth this all could be a puzzle especially since she has a mind and a soul, but Trochi simply chooses wrong, she chooses indifference to begin with, she believes indifference is strength, and I have suffered right along with Mimi Trochi and her indifferent men and although I have never stuck it into her she keeps coming back with stories and sobs looking more handsome than ever, we don't even kiss anymore, all those hot kisses gone forever, I am just not indifferent enough. "you had your chance," she tells me, showing me her newest baby.

Charles Bukowski ֍ "poor Mimi." what matters most is how well you walk through the fire (1999)

[thequeerlibrarian]

Mimi exploring my bookshelf 📚🐈‍⬛

[lvmimis]

"s-so this is it..."

you really should watch the slight wobble of your voice - after all, you're the one who asked to see it, but you didn't really expect it to be...

... well, anything like this.

shoto's dragon form is as majestic as you could have imagined, but a whole lot bigger, a size that easily dwarfs that which you've imagined from storybooks you've read as a child. the scales on his skin are two-toned, much like the hair on his body when he is human, and as you reach your hand out slowly to rest your palm somewhere, anywhere, perhaps along the side of his large body, you can feel it seem to frost over as your skin touches the smooth white scales.

you unintentionally shudder at the cold, and you can feel him shift, although it is a movement that is intentionally small, as though he is aware of the magnitude of his very being at this moment and wishes desperately for your approval. his neck curves downwards to meet you, and as you take in the sight of his transformed self, you meet his eyes, the eyes you know so well between the two of you.

"shoto..."

you whisper his name, and he continues his gaze at you. your fingers find a place along his snout as he watches you carefully, curiously, hopefully. his eyes close as you settle, steam radiating from his fiery side, and cold frosted air from the other as he exhales. you wonder how he lives in this constant duality.

yet he is always himself when he's with you.

his tail curls around you and pulls you in closer. slowly you press your cheek against what would be his. it is again his cold side, and again, you shudder.

but you don't move.

his tail pulls you in closer still.

his secret, now both of yours, stays safe between you two.

[mims-bshelf]

Can I request for a Micheal kaiser nsfw drabbles :3

"Silent Desires: A Game of Control"

Sypnosis: After a victorious match, a celebratory movie night at your boyfriend Michael's luxurious home takes an unexpected turn. With limited seating, he pulls you onto his lap, a seemingly innocent gesture that quickly turns into something far more intense.

Tags: suggestive, risky, lustful, semi-explicit, grinding, teasing

Character count: 922

CW: Smut, MDNI, risky kink, teasing kink, grinding

It was a beautiful evening. Your boyfriend's team, Bastard Munchen, had just won a match against Manshine City, so naturally, a celebration was in order. After a round of excitement, everyone decided to head to Michael's house to watch movies in his private theater room —one of the many luxuries that came with being ridiculously wealthy.

As you all stepped inside, you quickly realized there weren't enough beanbags and chairs for everyone. While you were still figuring out where to sit, Michael suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you onto his lap, his hold firm yet effortless. His actions set a precedent for the rest of the group, who, without hesitation, followed suit, casually sitting on each other's laps like it was no big deal.

At first, you melted into his embrace, finding comfort in the warmth of his body as you tried to focus on the movie. But halfway through, something changed. You felt it—a hard press against your backside. Your breath hitched, your entire body tensing in realization.

A deep, shaky exhale ghosted over your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Michael's grip on your waist tightened, pulling you even closer, his fingers digging into your hips with a slow, deliberate force. Then, ever so subtly, he began to move—grinding against you with an unspoken intent that made heat rush to your cheeks.

Your pulse quickened, the air between you growing thick with tension. Just as you were about to say something, his lips brushed against your ear, his voice low and dripping with need.

"Better stay quiet, meine Liebe… I need you. Now. Badly."

Credits: Divider Divider Divider

[lvmimis]

me when i'm SCREAMING

ME WHEN I'M SCREAMING

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

izuku x reader

he needs you to know how you mean to him and will go to any length to prove it to you

cw: a tad nsfw, reader refered to as puppy, wc 1k, divider by @/cafekitsune, written for mimi

Izuku pins your hands above your head and you wince at his swift action. Your pillow softens the blow but it doesn't hide the dark cloud seeping off of your boyfriend above you.

“Repeat that one more time for me.”

It's not a request but a demand, one that comes from the deepest part of him. His voice stern and something inside you quakes. He’s never looked at you like this before.

You swallow, trying to maintain eye contact which is especially hard after what you've just said to him, but you keep your mouth shut.

It hurt you enough the first time, you shan't say it again.

“I swear that I heard you mumble that I can do better than you.”

Your heart hurts as he says your own words back to you. Ones that have been repeating in your head for the last few months of your relationship.

You see him all the time with other people, people who are nicer, happier, more smiley than you. And certainly people who deserve him more. People that he has to have greater feelings for than you.

You don't celebrate his every entrance home, you don't cover yourself in pink, or act like a perfect girlfriend. And you are sure that if the stars aligned in any other way that he would be with one of them instead of you and that he would be a million times happier.

So then why does him saying these words out loud hurt you so?

“Is that what you really think?” He asks again, and there's a waiver in his voice, an uncertainty.

His grip on your hands loosens slightly, his brow furrowing. He’s waiting for you to speak.

“Izuku, I—”

“Stop. I won't hear whatever you're going to say.” His grip on your hands tightens again, and he leans over you. His large muscular back arching over you, blocking out the light behind him. His eyes lock onto yours, “Whatever it is, I’ll prove it wrong right now.”

He kisses your neck and then retreats, sitting on his knees with your body pinned under him. He pulls at the back of his shirt, slowly revealing cords of muscle to you like he's unwrapping a present.

He tosses the shirt to the side and places your hands on his wide chest. You can feel his pulse quicken from the contact and the heat coming off of his body. The powerful muscles of a man who can easily save a bus full of screaming children.

“Do you feel that?”

“I know what a heartbeat feels like, Izuku.” You want to remove your hands, to fight the feeling deep inside of you that makes you press your legs together, but he holds your hands in place.

“But mine’s different; mine beats for you.”

You hate that this corny ass line gets to you. It doesn't erase the hurt that you're still holding close to your chest, but a few pieces of that hurt fall to the floor.

Hands fall to your waist and it’s almost like Izuku can see the pieces starting to slip, so he doubles down in the only way he knows how.

“You are the reason I fight so hard. You are the reason that I wake up every morning a draw breath. The reason that I can come home and shed the hero skin and just be myself. Because you allow me to just be Izuku. I don't have to be some built up perfect man to you, and the fact that you allow me to do that is everything to me. I know you've always compared yourself to others, and that maybe that is what this is, but the thing is that I don't want others. I don't want someone too sweet who would suffocate me and not allow me a moment to breathe. I don’t want someone who isn’t you. I don’t need someone to smile at me, I need someone who is there for me, who is with me in everything that I do, and who has the biggest caring-est heart I've ever seen, even if she doesn't believe it.”

You pout and hide your face in your hands, “Stop, you’re too nice to me”

He readjusts himself so that he's sitting between your legs and his hands run up your legs, over your hips to rest right under the hem of your shirt.

“I'll show you that I’m devoted to you.” His head dips down to the skin slowly being exposed as he raises your shirt, and he kisses at every inch of your skin as it's revealed.

He kisses his way up to your breasts. He nips at your soft skin as he wraps his arms under your body drawing you up into him.

Every piece of your chest is covered in some remnant of him; kisses, bites, spit.

His hips grind into yours, and you can feel his desire through his sweatpants. Hard and hot pressing against where you need him the most.

“This is only for you, puppy.” His voice drops as he talks right into your ear. “All of me. I’m yours.”

He kisses along your jawline as his body settles on you.

“I’m all yours,” he repeats before he kisses you. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip, and he groans when you let him in.

The first kiss that breaks the dam of passion that flows between the two of you. The feelings that scare you fall to the floor as he reaches the deepest parts of you. His body is a master of yours, his breath guiding the push and pull of your hips. Hands holding yours tightly as he gives you shot after shot, never once letting you go. Because he could never.

Thrust after thrust, kiss after kiss; it's endless. Your whole body shaking, begging for a break from his endless hours or torment, but he has something to prove. It doesn't matter how many times he cums in you or how much spills from you. He needs to keep you full, needs to show you how much his body belongs to you. And he does. Oh god, he does.

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

gaming with him

(cw: they play a shooter video game (might contain inaccuracies); age gap 25/41, nsfw, MDNI, smutty smutt with some butt stuff, bit of spanking; evolving their dynamic a little more)

the part before: talking on the phone

Ding dong.

Oh, that must be him. I put the ladle down and hurry to the front door. I open it up and his tall stature is filling the whole doorframe. His broad shoulders, the worn leatherjacket almost brushing the sides.

“Hi.”, he says, smiling at me, his long dark hair falling to the front as he looks down at me.

“Hi.”, I smile up at him and step to the side to let him in.

He almost hits his head when he steps through the door, the top of his hair brushing even as he ducks down. “Ah shit.”, he curses, and I laugh, before I get cut off by his lips on mine. A short, but big kiss.

“Sorry, my apartment isn’t made for giants.”, I say, as I close the door behind him.

He pulls of his shoes, the huge combat boots falling to the floor, before he puts them neatly on the shoe rack.

“I noticed that. Your bed is so tiny, last time I actually hit my head when I woke up.”, he tells me, a jokingly pouty grimace contorting his serious features.

“Awww, you need me to put a kiss on it?.”, I say, teasing him.

But he actually bows down until I see the top of his head. I laugh again, grabbing his face, coming closer to press my lips to his hair with his loud smooch.

“Better now?”, I ask, when he straightens back up.

“Much better.”, he says, shedding the leatherjacket, hanging it up right next to mine.

“Any other body parts you need kissed better?”, I tease him. And I half suspect him to just whip his dick out. I mean, I wouldn’t mind.

“Doncha know it.”, is all he says, while wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I roll my eyes, not being able to stop grinning. "Come on, big guy. I uh- actually cooked for us. I hope, that's okay.", I say.

He shoots me an amused look. "You cooked, how dare you.", he jokes with a serious expression on his face, following me to my kitchenette where the pasta is still bubbling away on the stove.

"No, it's uh veggie bolognese, so we can both eat it. I made it, so it has a bunch of protein, though.", I explain.

His hand strokes over my back until it rests against my waist, as he stops beside me. "I won't crumble into bits, if I don't have all of the macronutrients perfectly balanced for one meal. So, don't worry about that, okay?", he tells me.

I nod. "Okay.", giving the sauce another stir.

"Thanks for cooking for me.", he says.

I beam up at him. "You're welcome."

When the pasta is ready, I fix us two plates, a BIG portion for him and a smaller one for me, and we sit at the little table in my living room, that I barely use to eat at. Most of the days I just have dinner in front of my computer.

Mimi is not leaving him alone, the little minx totally enamored with the huge man, sitting on his lap while he eats. I offer to take her off his hands, but he refuses. The big metalhead with the black kitty that almost doesn’t show up against his dark clothes. Patting the small purring ball of fur, his big, tattooed fingers scratching her head, while he shovels the pasta into his face with the other one. It’s a picture for the gods. I lift my phone and snap a quick pic, his eyebrows shooting up at the same time as I press the shutter to save the moment.

After dinner I show him around my apartment which is done with a twirl around the main room and opening one door. I mean, he already knows the bedroom and the bath, so I don’t need to show them to him.

But I drag him into my “office” which is more like a hobby gaming room. It only has a desk and a bookshelf which isn’t anywhere near as impressive as his. He still inspects the books, his eyes lingering on my collection of classic romance novels and the anniversary edition of Lord of the Rings.

“I forgot the books I picked out at your place by the way.”, I comment.

“Pity.”, he says, shooting an amused look my way. “Seems like you have to drop by again someday.”

“Pity.”, I echo, grinning up at him.

He turns to look at me, sitting in my chair, and his gaze pans to the computer screen.

“So, games, huh?”, he asks, his voice sounding as vague as his question.

I chuckle. “Yeah, games.” I can see interest peek through the grimace on his face. “I have a lot. Too much, I can’t play them all. From Animal Crossing and Mario Kart, Baldur’s Gate and Witcher 3, to WoW, Counterstrike, ... Plus a bunch of strategy and puzzle games.”

“I don’t know what any of those games are, so you can tell me all about them.”, he says, leaning over the back of my chair.

“You never played any or just no shooter games?”, I ask him, recalling what we talked the night before on the phone.

He shrugs. “When I was younger, a friend of mine had a console where we played Super Mario, but yeah, didn’t have one of my own. Or a PC. And then later I didn’t really get into it anymore. You know, other stuff to do.”

“Yes, I see.”, I say, smiling up at him from my chair. “You wanna try?”

“Uh sure, but you gotta show me the controls.”, he answers.

I get up and let him take a seat. I want to scream (internally) when I see the big man in my gaming chair, his stature way too tall for one that is fitted to my size, almost bursting out of the seat. The backrest isn’t high enough to support his head. His thighs press against the armrests. It looks ridiculous, but he grins at me.

“So, Counterstrike? Or Animal Crossing?”, I quip, while I start the first game on my computer.

I put my headset on his head and show him how to move, the most important shortcuts. How to aim and shoot. And the ridiculous nature of our situation right now is everything but lost on me. I let him try the shooting range first, instead of queueing up for a match, I’m not a total monster.

He looks at the screen, inspecting all of the pistols and rifles. Starting to list stuff off as he goes through them, talking more than I ever heard him talk before. I just listen to him rambling like a madman who finally gets to talk about his hyperfixation as he explains the differences of the various types and models, the recoil, the spray. All the stuff I never bothered with when playing those games.

He finally found a few that are to his liking, and he chooses one of them.

Actually playing the game though? He fails miserably. Running into everything, like a bull in a china shop. He’s just aimlessly pressing buttons, his big fingers hitting more than one key on the keyboard all the time. If it was possible, he would have knocked everything over.

His shot? You couldn’t even call that aim. My small computer mouse is too small for his big hand, the sensitivity too high for him. I dial it down a bit, which helps, and I try to coach him through it, telling him which buttons to press, but I can see that frustration sets in.

“Come on, you almost had it there.”, I cheer him on, as he misses another one of the targets.

He grabs me and pulls me into his lap. "You play, I'm better at this stuff in real life." and puts the headset on my head.

"Wait, I’m not sure the chair can support both our weight!", I say.

But he doesn't let go of me, letting his head rest on my shoulder and pulling me closer. "If it breaks, I'll buy you a new one, okay?", he grumbles.

"You mean like the panties you ruined?”, I ask pointedly, hiding a little grin. The panties he ripped while we were fucking and never replaced.

“Uh, maybe.”, he answers, his face contorting into an apologizing grimace.

I laugh a little at that. “I’m just teasing you.”, I say. Pushing the one side of the headphones back to hear him better.

I adjust the height of the seat and come closer to the desk again. His one arm snakes around my waist, while his other hand strokes down my thigh. The fingers softly squeezing the supple flesh. I try not to let it deter me, as I queue up for a new match.

I shoot him a look, but his eyes are fixed on the monitor as his thumb softly strokes over my inner thigh. The only hint that he's totally doing that on purpose, is the little twitch of his mouth.

The match loads up, and I look forward again. Choosing my weapons, waiting for the time to count down.

I wait for the teammates to spread out, following one of them down A. Trying to concentrate on the game while I can feel his hand inching further up, closer to my pussy. Teasing. Grazing over it, with his fingertips.

My breath halts in my throat, and I bite my lip not to make a sound. Not giving into it, not giving him the satisfaction.

I see the enemy duck behind the wall, lining up the rifle, waiting for his head to pop up again. A moment before I take the shot, his fingers stroke over my clit, pressing down on the sensitive nub. A choked back moan drops from my lips, and I lose my focus. I miss the shot entirely, cursing, dropping my cover and getting mowed down by another enemy teammate. He chuckles, pressing soft kisses to the side of the face, moving down to my neck.

"Seems like you got hit.", he murmurs, his hot mouth coasting over the soft skin, which sends shivers down my spine. I squirm against his lap, feeling his hard length press against my ass.

The next round starts up and he nudges me. "Come on, Liebes, it's starting again."

“Yeah, yeah.”, I groan, moving with his touches, while trying to play the game.

"You can do it.", he whispers, his breath hitting the shell of my ear. His huge hand, the one that has been sitting on my waist, slips under my shirt, until he reaches my tits. Pulling down the bra a bit and toying with my nipple. Stroking over it with his thumb, making it stiffen up. Rolling the pebbled tip between his fingertips. Pinching it. His other hand circles my clit, still over the cloth of the leggings, and I feel how my wetness seeps into my panties.

I whine and bite down on my lip, my eyes fixed on the screen, trying to find the enemies. But honestly, right now, I'm just glad, I didn't get the package, because my mind is distracted by his teasing touches.

It gets even worse to focus on the game when his fingers slip into my pants, down to my already soaked underwear. He hums softly as he strokes over the puffy wet lips, his digits sliding further down until they push inside me. Just one at first, then quickly the second.

“I have a confession.”, he whispers, the voice dark and needy, as he works himself inside me slowly, stretching me.

“What confession?”, I ask, sounding breathy.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about sinking my fingers into your warm, wet pussy again.”, he drawls, being knuckle-deep inside me now. “Especially after hearing yourself do it yesterday. Knowing that you were fucking yourself with your fingers… Getting off to my voice...”

“You liked that?”, I breathe, needing to hear it, while in reality I can barely stay sane right now.

“Yes.”, the answer more a growl than the actual word.

I can’t hold back the moans any longer and his soft hums against my neck are killing me, while he presses kisses to it, and the motions of his fingers pressing into me are not helping at all.

"König, please, I-", I start, but I break off when he strokes over the sensitive spot deep inside.

"Hm, what do you mean, Liebes?", he says.

"More, more.", I sigh. My hips move of their own volition, searching for more friction.

He chuckles, the deep cocky sound, so close to my ear sending a shiver down my spine. Fuck, I don't think I can ever get enough of that. "What do you want me to do, Fräulein?", he asks, puffs of air hitting the shell of my ear. "More of what?"

I groan, a little bit, between trying to play the game and his teasing, my body and mind and torn in two. His fingers stop moving inside me, and I whimper. On the one hand I can focus better now, on the other hand I just want him. Need him. To do me.

"Come on, you can tell me.", he drawls, his voice low and soft.

"I-" The words won't come out of my mouth. I can imagine it, I have the pictures right in front of my eyes. But the words... Saying it out loud is another thing.

It even had been easier yesterday on the phone. Or when we texted. A simple “yes, please”, a small comment here and there. Teasing him a little. But fully voicing my thoughts… I don’t know why I am having a hard time with it.

“You can tell me what you want me to do, just say the words and I'll do it.”, he promises, pressing his cheek against mine.

Another round starts up and I'm already getting flamed in chat. But all my brain can think about is all the stuff I want him to do. His other hand is softly caressing my hips and thigh, while his fingers are still inside me. Not moving on their own.

"I don't know.", I finally whisper, running down one of the corridors and getting eliminated. Again. I sigh, slumping into him. His warm scent engulfs me, his huge pecs are my soft pillow.

"I know that you like it when I take control. But I also wanna hear from you. I want to know what you want.", he explains, his voice gentle. "What you like, what you don't like, what you fantasize about." He makes it all seem so... easy. Normal. No big deal. “Yesterday on the phone… I liked how you told me what you wanted.”, he adds.

It was easier, lying in my own bed, engulfed by darkness. His deep sultry voice and my own thoughts the only company. Now in the light of day, sitting here, right in his lap – while still playing a video game or at least trying… It is a completely different scenario. But I know what I want, I just need to tell him.

I swallow, once, and then I just blurt it out: "I want you to bend me over the desk and just eat me out from behind." Breathless and meek, but I said it out loud. See, it wasn’t that hard, right?

It is all I can think about right now. The memories of how he ate me out like that when I was bent over the bar are plaguing me and I just need him to do it again.

The sound coming from his throat, low and gravelly, is sending a pang of need straight between my thighs and my pussy clenches around his fingers. "Good girl.", he whispers. Oh, his voice does something to me.

He doesn’t wait and just gets up, pulling me up with him, until we both stand. Bending me over the desk, just like I said I wanted him to, so my forearms rest on the surface, my hands still on my keyboard and mouse. I can feel his erection pressing against me, as he positions me, his fingers slipping out of my pussy and his hands grabbing the waistband of my pants.

"Like this, hm?", he asks, and pulling them down. The panties must go as well, of course.

"Yes, just like that.", I whisper. Still a little... shy? No, that's not the right word. “Maybe kneeling behind me?”, I suggest, my voice barely audible.

He drops to his knees in an instant, his hands on my asscheeks. His fingertips are digging into them, pulling them apart, and I can feel my own wetness against the skin that still coats his fingers.

“For you, always.”, he drawls, huffs of air hitting the wet skin of my exposed pussy with every word. He just presses his face against me, licking me like a starved man. His tongue dips into me, he’s fucking me with it. Lapping up my juices.

And all I can do is take it while my eyes turn up and I can’t even really see the screen anymore. It seems like I failed miserably at actually playing the game.

He pulls back a bit, his lips brushing over me. “You have another round to play.”, he grumbles. The game is long lost for me and my teammates, and I can’t focus on it anyways, so I just let go of my mouse and keyboard.

“I can’t. I- Fuck.” My words turn into moans, when he licks up, dragging his tongue over my pussy. “I give up.”

He chuckles, the soft sound sending a shiver through me, before he repeats the move from, the tip of his tongue drawing a trail up, until he almost reaches my other hole. My eyes widen and my spine stiffens up. Would he…?

“You like that? When I play with your ass?”, he asks, his voice so close and deep, puffs of air coasting over the sensitive skin when he is speaking.

My breath hitches in my throat, the blunt dirty words making me choke up, but I answer: “I- I like it, yeah.”

“Good, cause I like it too.”, he says.

He pulls back a bit and spits, the filthy noise making my cheeks heat up. I can feel his saliva hit my puckered hole, the wetness dripping down a bit, before he catches it with his hand.

His fingers are softly massaging, the light touches sending zaps of pleasure through me, until he dips into me, the stretch of just one digit making me almost lose my mind.

He dives in again, his finger matching the rhythm of his tongue dipping into my pussy. And then his mouth drops down further until his lips close around my clit, sucking, gentle at first before it gets more intense. The sensations catapult me over the edge, and I come hard against his face. He doesn’t stop eating me out as I rub myself on him, feeling the tip of his nose nudge against my wet folds. Same with the roughness of his 5 o’clock shadow. Fuck, I’m really losing my mind over here.

"Please, fuck me, I need you to fuck me hard.", I sigh, throwing all my reservations out the window.

"Did anybody ever tell you that you beg so prettily?", he growls, I can feel the vibration against the sensitive skin of my pussy. Fuck, I just want him to do that again.

He gets up from the floor and a condom out of his wallet, and I hear him unbuckling his belt, the clang of metal telling me so. By now it has become quite the recurring theme, me trying to break his concentration while he puts on the condom. Shimmying my hips. Rolling my ass back into his lap. Teasing him to make him pound me even harder.

I’m putting my all into it today – a little pay back for how he distracted me while playing. I slowly move back and forth, until the swell of my butt hits his thighs, as he rips the foil packet open and rolls the rubber down on his dick.

He tuts. “Needy.” The word is a reprimanding growl while he spanks my ass. Once. Another little tradition that makes me giggle, relishing the faint sting of the slap. His fingers grip the supple flesh, his hips rutting forward, and I sigh. He lines himself up, slipping inside, just the tip. My breath halts in anticipation, I wait for him to push into me, stretch me around his dick. But he doesn’t.

I look back at him, turning my head, craning my neck. The big man is towering over me, behind me, just standing there. His hand still on my ass. And his gaze on my face.

The tip of his mouth tips up, the smirk getting wider. "Fuck yourself back. Come on.", he says, and he chuckles when he sees the expression on my face. “What? You moved your hips so prettily, just a few moments ago. You can do it.”

I groan, but the imagination alone and his little coaxing order make me even hotter. I push myself onto his dick, until my ass hits his lap. Deep, so deep. Pulling back again and feeling every inch of him slip out of me.

“But I asked for you to fuck me.”, I whine.

“Yeah, and then you had to be bratty.”, he answers. “Trying to tease me.” His voice deepens. “And brats don’t get what they want.”

Well, it seems like I did that to myself. I sigh deeply and start to move again. I can feel the wetness seep out of me when my ass hits his lap over and over again, making a total mess of him.

He doesn’t do anything, he’s just standing there, watching me fuck myself on his dick. I can feel his heated gaze on me as I bounce on him, my motions getting smoother, finding a rhythm that is driving us both crazy. Stretching my pussy around his girth, colliding with him, an immovable wall of muscle. A very turned-on immovable wall of muscle, judging by the soft groans that drop from his lips.

His hand grabs my buttcheek, squeezing a bit, before he spanks me again. That little move spurs me on, pushing myself back harder. But it doesn’t have the same impact as when he does it.

I just want more.

“König?”

“Yes, Liebes?”

His hand comes down on my ass once more, the palm colliding with the supple pillow, and the sound it makes fills the room. My hips stutter and he almost slips out of me when a shiver shakes my body.

“Please, fuck, I need you to do me.”, I beg, sliding onto his dick again, stopping as he’s seated deep inside me. I look back at him, catching my breath a bit.

“Will you be good then? Next time?”, he asks, pushing some of his hair back that’s falling over his face.

“I will, yes.”, I breathe.

“Good.”, he growls, his hands grabbing me, while he starts to pound into me. He pulls my hips back into him, packing a punch to his thrusts. The slaps of skin against skin are loud and almost obscene, intermingling with the moans that get pulled from my lips when he bottoms me out.

My whole body gets shaken, the surface that I’m still holding onto moving with every push. My headphones get shaken off my head, tumbling onto the desk. The clank of plastic hitting plastic resounds when they fall onto the keyboard. But I don’t care about that right now.

The tip of his dick hitting me deep inside floods me with arousal, my mind filled with hazy pleasure. It doesn't take long, a few hard deep strokes, and my thighs start to shake. I actually have a hard time keeping myself up. My legs buckle, but his arms steady me, as I cum around his dick.

“Fuck, Liebes.”, he groans. “Squeezing me so tight.” The last word drops out when he comes as well, pushing into me one last time, his groin colliding with my ass. I slump down and sigh, my cheek resting on my arm, as I relish the last waves of my subsiding orgasm.

He pulls back, pulls out of me, and I still just stand there, bent over my desk. Naked from the waist down, while he only got his dick out. I breathe in and out, trying to pull myself together, slowly straightening up.

He’s already gotten rid of the condom, zipping himself up again, when I turn around to put my arms around him. He leans down and gives me a kiss, a long overdue one, his hand stroking down my back, while I snuggle into him.

The waistband and lap of his jeans are a tiny bit sticky with my wetness, I can feel it as I’m pressed up against him like that. He doesn’t care in the least bit, sitting down in my chair again and pulling me into his lap. Softly playing with my hair, basking in the little comfortable silence.

“You okay?”, he asks then, pushing some strands back, brushing them out of my face, while his eyes search for mine.

“Yes. I probably got reported by my mates, but that was totally worth it.”, I answer, grinning at him.

He laughs and presses another kiss to my lips. “Yeah, sorry about that.”, he says, with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Oh, you’re not, and you shouldn’t be.”, I tell him, and I can tell by the look on his face that he is in fact not.

"So, what are those animals and why do they keep crossing?", he asks me out of the blue. I burst into laughter, almost falling off his lap. Still laughing a bit, I get the controller and start up my Switch to show him the villagers on my five-star island, while I snuggle against his chest and he wraps his arms around me.

next part: breaking the bed or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

a/n: @kathy-ifnt planted the idea for such a scene in my mind and i just had to do it... i played some CS but not a lot, generally i'm more of an RPG/WoW girlie, but i didn't wanna make you sit through me explaining how to heal a dungeon run, lol also tried to evolve their dynamic a little more explicitely... stay tuned <3 and thanks for reading as always <3

[shmaptainwrote]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓 [𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — Violet has a secret, but it will only stay that way if she can be quiet enough to keep it

WORD COUNT — 2.2K

WARNINGS — 18+ MDNI, oral sex (Violet recieving), pw/op (I mean there is kind of a plot, but it's so minimal)

NOTE — Okay this is just like a fully indulgent little snippet because let's be real who wouldn't want to be in a secret relationship with Violet. Special thanks to @sleepyfireball and @lifesizehysteria for both giving me the confidence to post this and helping me with the ending <3

Violet had never considered herself a woman of many secrets. Yes, there were some things in her life that remained private, but even then, they wouldn’t cause much of a fuss if they were brought to light. 

Recently, though, Violet had been keeping a secret. A big one. 

A secret, her only one that would surely scandalize the whole ton, but Violet, unlike her children, was a little more well versed in dealing with subtleties, with…avoiding scandal. 

“Mother?” 

She blinked away from her thoughts, seeing Benedict holding out his arm for her so she could exit the carriage. 

She gave him a small smile by way of apology and took his arm in hers, climbing out of the carriage and letting her second eldest son lead her into the home that this evening’s ball was being hosted in. 

As soon as they entered the large space, she didn’t even register going to find the host or taking in the decorations. Instead, she scanned the crowd until her eyes landed on a familiar pair. She bit back a smile noticing your discreet wave to her which she returned with a nod of her head. 

She saw you motion your head towards the refreshments table and she quickly let Benedict know she was going to get herself a lemonade and gracefully made her way around the room to the table where she could pour herself a glass. 

“Lady Bridgerton, interesting evening for a ball isn’t it?” 

Violet chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Yes, there is quite a storm outside,” she nodded as you came and stood next to her, pretending to be perusing the desserts. You leaned in to grab a macaron, but your mouth coming awfully close to her ear, her senses overwhelmed by your warm breath against her as your voice dropped to a whisper. 

“I haven’t seen you in weeks. I miss you.” 

She could feel a certain familiar warmth grow in her chest at your admission, still pretending to focus on the lemonade and not how much she wanted to pull you into her arms. 

“Did your carriage have much trouble in the rain?” she pulled back, continuing the cover conversation. 

“Thankfully no, but who knows what the night will bring,” you responded. 

Violet took a moment to appreciate your appearance. The way the jewels that dangled from your ears complimented your dress and shone against your skin. How odd it was that you chose not to wear a necklace, leaving the upper part of your chest bare. Violet supposed for most, attention would not be drawn to it due to the lack of jewels, but for her, your skin was much more precious. 

“We shall speak more later, yes?” you asked and Violet nodded her head. 

“Of course,” there was no question about it, but Violet wanted to do much more than speak and she gathered that you did too. 

You offered Violet a smile, your hand moving to touch her arm in a friendly manner, your touch lingering as you walked away leaving her to yearn for it as soon as it was gone. 

She tried to make friendly conversation with those around her, but her mind kept drifting off to your whispered words, your breath on her face. 

It didn’t help that whenever you walked by you’d find some excuse to touch her. A hand on her back to move her aside, a touch to her arm as you laughed at something she said while in conversation with others, the brush of your hands together as you passed her by. 

Eventually she could not take it any longer, or more, she didn’t want to. 

She sought you out where you stood alone in a quiet corner enjoying a glass of wine. 

“Took you long enough,” you murmured into your glass. 

“I don’t know what you expect me to do when you keep…touching me,” she whispered. “We are supposed to be discreet are we not?” 

“Forgive me, I was trying to get your attention,” you tried to bite back a chuckle, even though you knew Violet was not amused, but she wasn’t angry, no that wasn’t the right word. She had a fire in her eyes. Passion, desire…lust. 

“Well you have it,” she said. 

You pulled the wine glass away from your face, moving to walk past Violet as if you were leaving her, but going slow enough that you could whisper, 

“Hallway. Five minutes.” 

Violet felt a lump grow in her throat, but she continued to take her turn around the room, her eyes constantly drifting back to the clock until the long hand had moved enough to signal five minutes had passed. 

Discreetly she weaved her way through the crowd until she could slip out into the hallway. 

When she arrived, it was dark and she saw no sign of you. She thought perhaps you might have gone further so she walked down, scanning the doors on either side, going deeper and deeper into the home without much regard for politeness of where she should have been. 

Just as she was about to turn around and go back, she felt someone grab her wrist and pull her to the side and into a room. She almost let out a shriek of surprise, but before the sound could leave her mouth a hand covered it and she realized who it was that had pulled her away. 

“Discreet, Violet, remember?” you teased. 

“Oh hush, you scared me,” she removed your hand from her mouth, trying to get her beating heart to slow down. 

“Yes, well,” you leaned in closer, closing the door behind Violet. “Like I said…I missed you.” 

Your lips now ghosted the shell of her ear and Violet could feel her walls beginning to crumble. 

“Darling,” she warned. 

“Mmm I love it when you call me that,” your hands now rested against Violet’s hips, your lips lightly pressing against her jaw. 

“This doesn’t feel very discreet,” she managed to get out in a strangled breath. 

“We’re alone,” you kissed her jaw. “And there’s a ball, no one will notice we have slipped out. In fact, your children might even be thankful for a break from your hovering.” 

“Oh, now you’re just trying to get on my nerves,” Violet could feel herself roll her eyes, but was quickly diverted from her annoyance by the feeling of your teeth grazing along her pulse point. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her head and it became dizzying. “Goodness, would you stop teasing me?” 

“I thought you wanted to be discreet?” you pulled your head away, looking her into her eyes, a mischievous smile on your lips. “What you’re suggesting is hardly so.” 

Violet clenched her jaw, looking around the room and behind her at the door. 

“We’d have to be quick,” she said. “And quiet.” 

“How about I worry about the quick and you worry about the quiet?” you asked, leaning in so your mouths were centimeters apart. “You can repay the favour next time.” 

“Assuming there is a next time,” Violet mumbled. 

“We’re not going to get caught,” you assured her. “Now do you want this? Or should I just continue teasing you?” you asked as your hands trailed up her sides, coming to rest right underneath her breasts. 

“No,” Violet breathed. “I want this. I want you,” her head bobbed up and down in a nod. 

“Good,” you smiled, finally closing the minimal gap between you, pushing Violet into the door, her body hitting against it with a small thud. She could taste the faint remnants of lemonade and wine on your tongue and it only served to make you more addictive, encouraging her to hold both sides of your face, pulling you closer. 

The smell of your perfume was intoxicating, how it lingered in the air around her and with each breath how it felt like she was drinking you in, over and over again. 

The back of Violet’s head pressed against the door, her chin tilting upwards, an invitation perhaps for your lips to meet the skin of her neck, dragging along every freckle, connecting dots until you reached her collarbone, your grip becoming more firm around her hips. 

Her chest heaved with each touch, every kiss, the tightness of her corset creating the most deliciously dizzying experience as your kisses lined the top of her breasts, your nose trailing along in tandem. 

It made Violet whine when she felt the cold loss of contact of both your lips and your hands, but it quickly turned into a gasp as fingers lightly traced the length of her legs, the skirt of her dress and any other layers underneath being pushed up higher and higher. 

Once her skirt was bunched around her hips, she took the fabric from your hands, freeing them up for much more important things. 

Her eyes were shut, taking in the feeling of your hot fiery breath against her thigh, your kisses wet as they traced a path up to the cotton fabric that covered her. 

Your fingers were light in their touch while they tugged the fabric lower, down Violet’s legs and she could feel herself practically dripping with need. After you helped her step out of her underwear, you chuckled seeing her foot brush it off to the side, clearly anxious for your touch to return. 

Violet’s grip on the fabric of her dress tightened as she felt you hook one of her legs over your shoulder and she let herself look down for only a moment watching as you pressed kisses to her inner thigh. Despite warnings to be quick, you relished in those moments where you could build up her desire, making her tremble with even just the feeling of your breath against her skin. 

For a few moments, Violet felt nothing aside from your hand on her leg and hip supporting her, and she was about to ask if something was wrong, but just as she opened her mouth to speak she felt your tongue glide over her and words turned into needy moans. 

You squeezed her hip and her thigh, your voice low as you spoke against her making her knees go weak. 

“Remember, quiet, my dear.” 

Violet bit her tongue and nodded her head, pushing herself back so firmly into the door to steady herself as your touch continued, only growing more insistent with each passing moment. 

Just as she was about to lose herself in a haze, Violet thought she heard something. 

“Darling,” she whispered harshly. “Darling, wait.” 

You paused, the only sound in the room being that of your heavy breathing, but outside in the hallway, soft steps could be heard and you both became deathly still. 

The footsteps were accompanied by small quiet chatter, and just as quickly as they came, they left and the hall was silent once more. 

“Now where were we?” you murmured against her thigh and despite Violet’s heart threatening to burst out of her chest and the swirling nausea of anxiety in the pit of her stomach, she let you continue because what you did was so very addictive. 

Violet felt a groan escape past her lips and she quickly let go of her skirt with one hand, placing it over her mouth to mute herself, or more likely muffle whatever sounds she was making. 

You could feel the fabric of her skirt fall slightly against your face and as a result Violet could feel your chuckle vibrate against her making her knees wobble so that she fell more firmly on you.

A sharp gasp left her mouth, muffled by her hand. 

You knew by her reaction you’d hit a sensitive spot and your tongue worked tirelessly against her, feeling her body arch against you, her breathing becoming more rapid and frantic, gripping on the one side of her skirt with such intensity she could feel her nails dig into her skin where they met the palm of her hand. 

Violet felt herself rise, as if with the crest of a wave, building and building and building until finally it crashed down on the sandy shore and pulled away before lapping again and again. 

As you finally pulled away from Violet, her leg still draped over your shoulder, she took a few moments to gather herself before finally removing her hand from her mouth, noticing the marks she’d left on it from trying to silence herself.

You pressed gentle kisses to her thighs, your hands caressing the skin they were holding before moving to wipe your face and move her leg back to the floor. 

Violet let go of her skirt, letting it fall over herself and was about to reach down to grab her discarded underwear before you beat her to it. 

“Really?” her voice was still breathless, her nose merely an inch away from your own while you smiled and came closer to her. 

“No one would notice it was gone,” a devious playful sort of smile crossed your lips. 

“I would.” 

“That’s the point,” you whispered before pressing your lips to hers in a slow kiss. 

“You’re insatiable,” she mumbled against you, pulling you closer. 

“I’m not the one who couldn’t wait until we got home.”

TAGLIST —

@paola-carter @madde11 @thesamesweetie @cherrysxuya

[starmahgalaxies]

I'm glad Jou is resourceful by stealing from his former "employer," yeah, sure. My mind just gets stuck on, you guys took your shoes off right? Jou, you want to be a doctor, you have to know getting your shoes and socks wet is asking to get sick? It's anal and I know they probably did, but I can't see their shoes on the shore and my mind is just like that.

Yay... I say just rip the bandage off. I do appreciate how the quickly discuss which would be better to hear first and accept their conclusion.

They're the same age as you and you're literally two peas in a pod.

It should be illegal that he has so many cool shots, but whatever XD. Have another obligatory cool bad guy screencap.

TAILMON!!! That is all. I'll let my biases show through, and I am a cat person. Also prementioned fan of the angel evolution lines.

More of the framing of this shot this time over Vamdemon specifically. Though, I will say, hidden passage behind a bookshelf, kind of cliché lol.

This is why you shouldn't abuse your workers, recruits, or whatever. When given the opportunity, they have no reason to respect your authority.

😁 Numemon is so cute here.

Mimi and Taichi waiting patiently for their partners to come back makes me smile. It helps that their expressions reflect both of them amazingly.

Trippy. Another case of having a lot of screencaps capturing the weird flux Vamdemon's castle is in but ended with this one capturing it the best.

Jsyk, you are talking about a little girl.

👏Treat your workers right👏

Update to feral gremlin child Takeru complete ❤️

Sassy cat tired of this shit.

And he doesn't realize that it's his sister yet. Or maybe a part of him subconsciously already knows since Taichi does react the most visibly to the idea of failing.

[purpleandyellowthings]

The Secret Girlfriend Theory (5)

Chapter five out of six for part 1 of The Secret Girlfriend Theory! 2808 words and trigger warnings for extreme violence, fighting, themes typical of criminal minds, alcohol use, gun violence, death

Chapter Five: The Woman in the Mirror

            Soon had come quickly enough. Two rum and cokes later, Mia was taking a cab home and checking her email on her phone. There, she discovered that Aaron had indeed emailed her, explaining his job and why he’d had to leave in such a hurry. She emailed back her phone number, and as soon she got home, he was calling her.

            One call turned into two and then four, and then they were calling each other all the time, her in the mornings and him just before bed. Neither of them were much for texting, so sometimes the phone calls would be short and sweet, quick little updates about what she had had for lunch and how his workday was going.

            She’d met Jack after several months of dating, and Jack seemed to like her well enough that Aaron had officially asked to be her boyfriend the very next day. Over time, her love for both of them grew, and one day Jack had mentioned how he never wanted Mimi to go home, and then Aaron was asking her to move in with him.

            A few compromises later, and they were getting a penthouse together, their own little paradise. Jack had attempted to call her ‘mom’ once, which she’d quickly corrected, but thought that the gesture was sweet.

            And now she was calling his son her own and picking him up from school every day and starting to put a little money away to help with college. Now she was pooling her money with his for a down payment on a gorgeous house on the east side of the city. Now she was grocery shopping with him every Sunday morning, fixing little snacks for Jack to take to school and rushing home, excited to cook dinner with him, or just cook for him if he was running late.

            Aaron had become much better about correctly guessing things about her, forcing her to learn things about herself that she never would’ve guessed before him. He was especially successful in terms of intimacy, always knowing when she preferred not to be touched before she could even put it into words, as well as knowing exactly where to touch her when she was in the mood.

            There were times when he was gone for days at a time, but Mia had always valued her alone time. Occasionally, Aaron would be away on cases at the same time that Haley’s sister wanted time with Jack, and Mia would get the whole penthouse to herself. She’d throw sleepover parties and have girlfriends over, and they would drink and gossip in ways Mia never did when she was younger. Or she’d simply put on music as loud as she dared and dance around, wearing underwear or a costume or the dress she’d splurged on with her first ever paycheck but never had a chance to wear out because it was too much for informal events and not enough for formal.

            Every few Saturdays, if Aaron was home, he’d take Jack out for a father-son day, and Mia would happily go meet her father for lunch, or go to the library on the other side of town and disappear into a book for the afternoon, or go to the dreadful gym that she usually only went to when Aaron dragged her.

            And life wasn’t perfect, certainly, but it was hard to think about the bad stuff when she was so, so terrified of losing it all.

            Mia broke out of her thoughts just in time to see Jack nodding off atop his worksheet. She couldn’t help but giggle a little, trying not to jostle him too much as she picked him up and carried him to Aaron’s office, where she knew there was a couch much more comfortable for Jack’s little head. She covered him with her blazer and allowed herself only a few minutes to breathe in her boyfriend’s scent, clinging to the air in his office like it missed him as much as she did.

            There was a mirror on the bookshelf behind his desk, and Mia was examining the books beside it when she noticed a figure moving behind her. She spun around with a gasp, immediately trying to figure out the fastest way to get in front of Jack.

            “Don’t move,” the woman’s voice said. “Or I’ll shoot.”

            Mia glanced down and saw the woman’s hand in her purse, but her arm was crooked, holding the purse at such an angle that Mia knew the purse was merely concealing the gun. “Okay,” she squeaked.

            “Take it all off,” the woman hissed, stepping out from the shadows.

            It was Annalise, but it wasn’t. Mia stared in shock, her mind not processing.

            “The jewelry,” Annalise said. “Take it off!”

            Mia flinched as the assailant raised her voice, but Jack did not stir. She carefully raised her hands, slowly, and removed her necklace, then her earrings and her bracelets, putting them all on Aaron’s desk.

            “Come closer,” Annalise said. “We’re going to take a walk.”

            When Mia was about five feet away, Annalise ordered her to stop. She fished in her back pocket with her free hand and pulled out a fold slip of paper, tossing it on the floor between them.

            “There,” Annalise said. “Pick it up and sign it.”

            Mia’s hands shook as she knelt down to retrieve the paper, opening it carefully.

            It was a note, explaining to Aaron that she was leaving him and never wanted him to try to contact her. It was typed, but there was a place for her signature. She signed it slowly, her heart pounding and blood rushing in her ears. She placed it next to the abandoned jewels and tried not to cry.

            “Good,” Annalise said. “Now lets go.”

            Annalise led her out of the office and down the stairs to the bullpen, ordering her to look and act natural. Mia was praying to God that she hadn’t just seen the last of her son, while simultaneously thanking Him for not involving Jack in this.

            “Why are you doing this?” Mia whispered, Rossi’s words from earlier echoing in her head. Knowing what the suspect knows will lead us to them, which means knowing what Annalise wanted would lead to a resolution that hopefully didn’t end with anyone dead.

            Annalise’s answer came in the form of a sneer. “He doesn’t love you. And you don’t deserve for him to.”

            Mia cycled through her options silently. She could fight back, but there were a lot of people around who could get hurt. She would have to risk waiting until they were alone to fight back, and her priority needed to be getting the gun away from both of them. If they were both weaponless, at least it would be a fairer fight.

            Annalise seemed to be leading her to the stairwell, and Mia’s adrenaline started pumping as she realized this would be her last stand. Once that door shut behind them and they were alone in the stairwell, she would have to fight for her life.

            But her chance didn’t come, because as soon as Mia was facing the stairs, getting ready to turn and fight, Annalise’s hand pushed at her back and Mia was tumbling down the metal stairs.

            She threw her hands up to shield her head, forcing her eyes open despite the urge to squeeze them shut, knowing she needed to look to be able to stop herself as soon as possible, not just wait for the momentum to slow naturally. The initial impact had knocked the breathe out of her, causing her scream to disappear into her throat, but a groan escaped as she rolled to a stop on the next landing.

            Annalise’s footsteps were loud and angry as she stormed down towards her, and Mia wasn’t ready in time to protect herself as Annalise grabbed her by the hair and pulled upwards, forcing Mia to her feet.

            “Did you really think you could make him happy? Only I can do that,” Annalise scolded. She leaned in close but Mia’s tears were blurring her vision. “Don’t you see? He’s loved me this whole time, and only stayed with you out of obligation.”

            Mia cried out as Annalise’s hand released her hair and struck her in the face. The sting of the hit had her hand coming up to cradle her face, which means she was again unprepared as Annalise pushed her down, this time falling backwards down a flight of stairs instead of forwards. Mia couldn’t think fast enough to shield her head this time, and she felt the back of her head strike something, and she knew if she opened her eyes, her vision would be swirling with dizziness.

            Annalise didn’t relent, the pursuit continuing until they were together on the next landing again.

            “I’ll leave!” Mia cried out as Annalise grabbed for her again.

            The words had the intended effect, and Annalise paused, glaring down at her panting victim.

            “I’ll leave him,” Mia offered, knowing without a doubt that she wouldn’t. “And you can have your happily ever after.”

            Annalise sneered. “You wouldn’t go anywhere. I’m going to take you somewhere no one will find you, and rip you apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left of your lying bones but blood and mush.”

            Mia barely heard her, hardly even recognized that Annalise was speaking, too focused on twisting her body until her right arm was free, letting the hair rip out of her scalp, knowing it would mean her life to pull this off.

            She swung as hard as she could, cupping her hand midair just before impacting the side of Annalise’s head. The strike had Annalise letting go of her hair, but Mia just took the opportunity to push her body into a defensive position rather than run away. One foot braced behind her, knowing she was about to get pushed, but there was less strength behind this one as Annalise was dazed from the ear strike.

Mia didn’t budge.

She pushed her left arm forward, her open palm striking Annalise’s face, right underneath her nose. In the same second, Mia delivered her right hand, fingers poised into a claw, to Annalise’s eyes.

Temporarily blinded and dazed, Annalise began to scream profanities, but Mia refocused on the gun, ripping the purse cover off so she could see it and where it was pointing. She grabbed Annalise’s wrist with both hands, forcing the gun to point out and away from both of them, her elbows locked to prevent Annalise from overpowering her.

A shot fired, and Mia flinched as her ears began ringing.

But Annalise was still fighting, biting at the arm closest to her mouth. Mia let her rip out a chunk of flesh, refusing to let go of the wrist holding the gun away from them. She twisted the limb as much as she could in this position until finally Annalise cried out and dropped the gun.

Mia braced herself to hear another shot, but thankfully the gun fell silently, and Mia freed her right hand again, this time driving her hand into the woman’s throat with her fingers in a C-shape.

That move finally took Annalise out for several seconds as she gasped for breath, and Mia wasted no time sprinting down the stairs towards the still live weapon. From her position on the landing beneath Annalise, Mia grabbed the gun and pointed it, panting with adrenaline and pain and fear.

“Stop right there!” Mia ordered. She didn’t really know how to hold a gun, so she just held it like she saw the actors hold the props in TV shows and action movies.

“Or what?” Annalise hissed. “You’ll kill me? Go right ahead.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” Mia pleaded. “I want to help you. Please, let us get you the help that you need.”

“I don’t want your help!” Annalise screamed. Then she reached for something tucked into the waistband of her jeans, flipping open the switchblade with ease.

Mia was not the type of woman to resign herself to simply die, but neither was she the kind of woman who could actually fire on a human being, even if that human being was running towards her on a stairwell, screaming something that sounded awfully like a war cry, swinging a sharp blade that was intended to slash her throat.

But she thought of Aaron and of Jack, of her parents and her big brother, and all her friends who would be so devasted to hear that she’d died alone, in a stairwell, her eyes squeezed shut as she fingered the trigger, attempting to force herself to squeeze and shoot—

BANG!

Mia sobbed, her eyes still squeezed shut, her finger still trying to force itself from the frozen position it was in.

Then someone was wrapping their arms around her and her arms were pushed down, the gun wrestled from her still clamped down hands. Mia wept as she knew these were her last moments. Annalise had taken the gun back. Any second now, the woman would cut her throat or plunge the blade into her heart, or just simply shoot her in the head.

“Open your eyes, baby,” someone was telling her.

It sounded just like Aaron.

Maybe she was already dead, and Aaron was here to take her to the afterlife. But then she realized that meant her love was dead, Jack orphaned, and she began to thrash and scream.

“Mia, sweetheart, open your eyes,” he was saying softly. Someone was helping to pin her down and it made her fight harder, but only for a second, and then the fight was leaving her body so quickly she slumped down.

“Mia,” Aaron said again. “Open your eyes right now, or I will make you drink lagers for the rest of your life.”

Mia’s eyes flew open, not at the threat, but at the liveliness in his voice. He was teasing her. They had just been murdered, brutally, and now he was teasing her? In the afterlife?

“There’s my girl,” he whispered as their eyes finally met.

“You got her?” someone was saying.

When Aaron answered affirmatively, the hold on her arms disappeared, and it occurred to Mia that someone else was there. Someone had crashed their afterlife reunion.

She looked to see who it was, and realized that it was Derek, now walking away from them to wave to someone at the top of the stairwell.

“She’s down here! We need two medics!” He shouted.

Mia’s eyes drifted downwards to Annalise, who was bleeding profusely despite Emily and Rossi’s best efforts to staunch the bleeding.

Then her chin was being directed straight again, and she was staring into Aaron’s eyes. His gorgeous, calculating, worried eyes.

“My love?” He asked softly.

“You’re alive,” she accused him.

“As are you,” he said. “Someone’s coming to help right now, okay?”

There had been a gunshot. Annalise was down when seconds ago, she’d been fighting.

“Annalise first,” Mia ordered weakly, guilt threatening to turn her stomach.

“Don’t worry, miss, there’s enough of us for both of you,” a female medic said as she climbed down to where Aaron was cradling Mia. “Sir, feel free to remain close by but I do need you to back up a little bit.”

Mia started to cry again as Aaron shuffled his position so the EMT had full access to check her over, but was deterred by Aaron’s firm hold on her hand.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised her. “Let the nice people help you.”

She heard it then, the shuffle of feet and the increase of volume above them.

“Bullet tore through the aorta from behind, we need to get her to OR now,” someone was saying.

Another EMT said, “Hang a unit of O-NEG and let the bank know we’re going to need more.”

She’s not going to make it, Mia realized. The EMT directly above her was attempting to check her eyes, but Mia yanked away from both her and Aaron and rolled onto her stomach, pushing herself off the floor with hands and retching.

She could feel Aaron’s hands pulling her hair away just in time, but the heat of everyone around her was making her feel worse, and she started to scream again.

“Sedate her,” Aaron said, attempting to neutralize her arms again to prevent further injury.

The EMT didn’t miss a beat, ordering, “I need her to still.”

There was a pinch on the side of her bicep and Mia cried out again. They were sedating her, right? Shouldn’t she be counting backwards?

Ten.

“J-jack,” she said. Jack had McDonalds for lunch today.

Nine.

“Don’t fight it, Mia. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything else happen to you, okay? You’re safe now.”

Eight.

[ayukaze]

To take my shitposting a step further and elaborate on my tags:

Hikari succumbs to an untimely death at the age of 24, which doctors rule out as "natural causes" due to overworking and fatigue coupled with her weak history of immunity. Taichi is shaken to his core, and he is unable to accept this explanation as the truth. He knows his sister, better than anyone, he knows how much effort she was putting into getting better, how she knew her limits and how much she enjoyed life and treasured it.

He starts raising questions after the funeral, his parents already unable to deal with their grief, are frustrated with his attitude and force him to agree to an overseas posting at his job so he can learn to move on from this tragedy in a new environment.

A year passes and Taichi plans to come home for Obon, to honour the spirit of his sister and make peace with his parents again. Everyone is happy to see him back, he seems like he has put his grief and anger behind him, he is smiling again, he is laughing and reminiscing without trouble. His parents are content that their son is back to being himself and their family can now have hope again for the future.

It is now time for Taichi to reconnect with his friends. At the time of Hikari's passing, he had distanced himself from each of them, shutting them out completely. Now he is ready to make amends and to his relief, so are they.

Everyone welcomes him back with open arms, the smiles on their faces and their kind words make it seem like nothing had gone wrong in the first place. It's easy to digest in the beginning, the late night drinking sessions, the movie marathons, the day long picnics next to the riverfront, his friends put in so much effort into making sure he is having fun again.

But every crowded walkway, every turn around the corner, ever park bench, every shop window is plastered with Hikari's face, the air around him is filled with her sweet scent, his ears are haunted by the echoes of her laugh, his hand aches to hold hers again.

And there is something odd about how his friends never mention her name.

Things get worse for him when he starts paying attention.

Paying attention to their nervous ticks that they hid behind their wide, sickly sweet smiles.

Taichi doesn't want to doubt his friends, he doesn't want to go behind the backs of the people who'd been through so much and still stayed by his side.

But he changes his mind when he comes across a missing page from Hikari's autopsy report, tucked in neatly between Yamato's sheet music. When he admires the ikebana arrangement in Sora's house up close, he sees buried the key to Hikari's apartment at its base. As he types Hikari's name in Koushiro's laptop, a password protected folder comes up, it's title "Hikari/Date of her Death". At the back of Mimi's wardrobe lies Hikari's missing scarf, covered in mud and mysterious stains. Jou's bathroom cabinet is filled with tiny bottles of drugs labeled with Hikari's name. In Takeru's apartment, hiding in plain sight on the bookshelf is Hikari's missing journal.

Memories from a year ago start rushing back. In the months leading up to her death, Hikari had been jittery around everyone, Taichi had questioned her many times but one or the other of their friends were always around so she brushed him off. He had noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes, the odd injuries covered up haphazardly on her arms and legs long before she succumbed to fatigue. At that time, he wondered if she had gotten involved with the wrong guy, he had tried to follow her around and only seen her meet up with Yamato, or Sora, or Koushiro, or Mimi, or Jou, or Takeru.

Now he realised what a big mistake he made leaving his sister to deal with her problems by herself back then.

Now he realised, that the friends he trusted with his life, may have been involved in taking it away from the person he cared about the most.

There were so many questions he needed to find the answer to.

Why did his sister never ask for his help, what was she hiding that made her get a target on her back, why was it his friends who put this target, which one of them was truly behind her death?

Find out NEVERRRR because I'm the worst murder mystery writer out there but thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

[stardusttshowers]

🌈💙 for nassy pleas!!! :]

🌈 - Do you associate any colors with them?

whenever i think of nassy, i tend to think of various purples! though I often associate her with the color blue, but a different shade than the count’s blue!

the count is more indigo/darker blue, while nassy’s blue is lighter!

i also associate her with pearl white, like the pearl on her outfit! or magenta like her hair!

💙 - Describe their bedroom! Is it personalized, unchanged? Messy, neat?

HEHEHEHEHEHE you are in luck!! i have a pretty good idea of what nassy’s bedroom looks like! >:]

it’s personalized to a certain degree i think; it’s a room that’s clearly hers but it’s not overly decorated like mimi’s is! it’s kept rather neat, though her desk can be a mess at times due to all the documents lying upon it.

one major part of her bedroom contains her office/work space. she has a desk that she puts her documents (or her art stuff) on, as well as various other things such as a lamp and a newton’s cradle!

she has a bookshelf and a couch to relax and read books to study up on various things, and upon her windowsill is a little garden flowerpot given to her by the count; where she grows flowers.

she has a bed to sleep on, and a rug depicting the many moon phases! I think she would have a mirror, her closet, and a place to put her umbrella for rainy days.

she has various trinkets around her room; collected from past adventures she’s been on with the count, or experiences she’s had with others. she also has a music box; which can sound pretty spooky at times (especially to dimentio, who fears the sounds those things make!)

she also has some pictures on the wall as well! this all reminds me that i need to update her room in acnh one of these days >:] someday, when i unlock more items!