#more like 'non-confusing and simple time expression'

[dottowos]

hoc non est experimentum!

synopsis: Dottore’s segments are tired of waiting to take you for themselves and have decided to finally take matters into their own hands (with some reluctant sharing).

includes: four dottore segments w/ fem! reader

notes: You get railed by four of Dottore’s segments at once, that’s it, that’s the fic. Established relationship, they fight over you a bit, reader uses they/them pronouns, gangbang (Sigma, Beta, Alpha, Delta - see segments guide), oral (reader giving), handjob, titfuck, vaginal sex, one (1) gentle pussy slap, rough and soft sex, praise, creampie, consensual drugging (aphrodisiac), brief mention of consensual somnophilia, bit of dirty talk(?), aftercare, cuddle pile with the segments at the end <3. Minors DNI.

For as research-driven as Dottore’s segments appeared to be, they had their own desires and downtime they wished for - mainly due to a certain someone they all thought of dearly. That person was none other than you, their beloved, whom they all shared.

To them, you boasted the utmost loveliness - soft lips that spilled the sweetest of words and praises, gentle touches and caresses that soothed them - and of course, your alluring body that they couldn’t keep their hands off. For a long time, the segments had settled with regular touches like simple cuddling, hand holding, and even some thigh squeezing here and there, but needless to say, they desired something a lot more… heated than mere soft touches. But much to their dismay, you were… painfully oblivious to their advances.

It was indeed a bit frustrating despite their advances being rather straightforward, but you always assumed they were being extra touchy and clingy. Well, all of them save for Omega had this problem - the segments cursed that lucky bastard when he wasn’t around, they wanted their face between your legs too.

… Which was why they were at their wits’ end and had collectively come up with a sure-fire plan to fuck you.

—

When four segments appeared in your room together unannounced, without any arguments following them, you already knew something was up. They weren’t often seen together, except whenever they happened to collaborate on projects, but you had heard of no such thing lately.

“Beloved, we have something we would like you to try for us,” Sigma began with an even wider smile than normal, something you always took note of.

“Well… if all four of you feel the need to come to ask me, it must be quite important,” you replied, very much interested in what could warrant such urgency, not to mention the varying expressions across the segments - Sigma’s eager smile, Beta holding off his impatience, Alpha hiding his nervousness by acting aloof, and Delta’s continued seriousness, although his eyes were boring into you.

“See,” Sigma hummed, producing a vial from his pocket, “We’ve recently created this new… liquid. Of course, we’re interested in observing the effects it has on someone.” Although you understood the intent, you were confused as to why he couldn’t just test it on someone else, but Beta answered your question before you could say anything.

“You’re the only test subject we can test such a drug on,” his fingers drummed against the nightstand quickly, as if he was aching to pour whatever that strange liquid was down your throat already. Still, this only left you with more questions.

“What kind of liquid is this exactly?”

“An aphrodisiac,” Delta said bluntly.

An aphrodisiac, you thought. Aphrodisiacs… ah yes, you read about those in books sometimes. Aphrodisiacs… used to stimulate sexual desire. Aphrodisiacs… used to have sex.

… Wait. To have sex?! Immediately, you started sputtering and backing up.

“A-Are you trying to say what I t-think you are?! And wait, are aphrodisiacs even real? I thought they were fake!”

“Finally, you got it through that thick skull of yours,” Alpha rolled his eyes. “I was beginning to wonder if you were simply that dense or doing it on purpose. Seems as though it was the former.” Classic Alpha - his words always had some bark to them, although there was practically no bite as you always got your way.

“I mean…!! I just didn’t know all of you would be interested in me that kind of way-”

“Oh darling,” Sigma purred. “You’re too sweet for your own good. That won’t end well for you if you’re with us,” the segment slyly slid his hand down your thigh, making you gasp. You were already starting to have a tingly feeling between your legs, your mind racing with the possible scenarios they would put you in. Could you even survive taking four of them at once? Logically your mind said no, but your body was saying yes. Even if you couldn’t walk for a few days, it was a hell yes.

“Prime surely knows you’ve been fooling around with Omega, doesn’t he? Don’t I deserve some attention too?” Beta was the next to make his advance, hand tracing the collar of your neck, itching to sink his teeth into your skin. Your body immediately warmed at being called out for… ahem… certain acts with the older segment.

“He’s right. You were the one who said you’d give us all equal treatment. Or are you going back on your word now?” Delta added on gruffly, already knowing what your answer would be from when you very obviously squeezed your legs together.

“No, I would never…” You quickly rushed your words, heart racing from all of the segments so close to you, with not-so-pure intentions.

“At least try to relax,” it was Alpha who took some pity at your deer-in-headlights look. “The aphrodisiac should greatly increase your pleasure as well.” The other segments quickly peppered your exposed skin with kisses in an effort to make you comfortable as well.

“I’m okay, I was just… caught off-guard by this. But I want you all too… if you’ll have me,” you replied shyly, to which all of the men perked up. “Besides, I’m kind of interested to see if you actually managed to concoct a legitimate aphrodisiac.”

“Good… good. Willing test subjects are always the best to work with,” Sigma placed a kiss on your forehead before suddenly you were being maneuvered onto the middle of the bed. “Now before we test the aphrodisiac, let’s see that pretty body of yours.”

Before you could even utter a response, your clothes were being tugged off very quickly - but that was probably because there were four other people undressing you. In no time, you were nude save for your underwear, the cold air sweeping against you for a moment, but the segments’ warm bodies prevented you from shivering. All of them had their eyes trained on you - they had seen you nude before, having to attend to you sometimes, but it was obviously not in a situation like this, where you were laid bare and needy for them. Speaking of neediness…

Delta, whose chest was pressed into your back, pried your legs open despite your gasps and protests because you already knew your pussy was becoming an embarrassing, leaking sight. You whined as your damp underwear was on display for them all to stare at shamelessly, Alpha and Beta holding down one of your legs while Delta grabbed your arms, and Sigma let out a content sigh that was shared between all of them.

"So wet, and we've barely even touched you." Something clicked in the segment's mind as he held himself back from touching you just yet. "I think I know why. You're excited by the idea of being fucked by all of us at once, aren't you?"

“Of course they are,” Alpha scoffed. “They can never hold themselves back once they want something.”

“Give it to them already,” Beta demanded, who had already been palming and restraining himself, “before I fuck them right now.”

“Have some patience,” Alpha rolled his eyes. “We’ve barely just begun.” Normally Beta would have shot the segment an indignant look considering Alpha’s own lack of patience, but he was too needy for you to bother.

“If you’re out of breath just from this, I worry about how you’ll be able to take all of us,” Sigma teased. “But I know you will. You must be aching for our cocks, aren’t you, sweet thing? Burning for us to fill you up like the obedient toy you are?” Your throat had gone dry from how effortlessly filthy Sigma had become. Usually, his tone and words were always so sweet to you, but now he spewed such dirty things with that same gentle voice.

“Answer him,” Delta reached to give your breast a firm squeeze, which quickly elicited a response from you. Alpha and Beta quickly followed the older segment’s action, kneading the soft flesh with fascination.

“Y-Yes! I’ll be good!” You swiftly nodded your head to which Sigma chuckled.

“Good.” He then popped open the vial and gave it a little shake, watching the liquid swirl around. “Now open,” he grasped your chin and held the vial above your mouth, humming in satisfaction as you swallowed the aphrodisiac without a second thought (which, surprisingly tasted quite nice.) When a little bit dribbled down your chin, he quickly thumbed the excess and popped his finger in your mouth.

“Ah ah, now don’t you waste it. A lot of work went into this.” You could only blink at him, mouth ajar as you suddenly became very aware of the aching between your legs and your rising body temperature.

“It seems the aphrodisiac is already taking effect,” Alpha observed, tugging at your sensitive nipple. “Perhaps because you were already aroused?” Ever the scholar, he still questioned your reactions (or maybe it was a way to distract himself from the tightening in his pants.) But when he looked at Beta, the other segment was already slobbering on your breast, sharp teeth occasionally grazing your nipple to which you whimpered.

“You aren’t even trying to hide your true intentions…” Alpha sighed. After all, it wasn’t really an experiment (this time at least) but more so to satisfy the aching between their legs in the way they desired rather than resorting to their hands all the time. (There was a reason why they didn’t have a trusty clipboard…)

“Don’t act like you’re any better than us,” Beta scoffed, briefly taking a break from sucking on your tit. “You were more jealous of Prime than any of us.” Alpha only clicked his tongue in response before giving your other boob similar treatment as what Beta was doing. Delta, on the other hand, was busy kissing you and hardly giving you any time to breathe, making the other sensations all too powerful. You barely noticed his hiss when you unconsciously grinded your ass against his bulge.

Sigma watched your once cheery expression become half-lidded and lewd, before reaching for the band of your underwear. Even though your mind had gone elsewhere at his point, your breath still hitched at the feeling. Along with all the touching and the aphrodisiac, your underwear was so wet it was clinging to your cunt almost uncomfortably. Thankfully, the segment pulled it off and discarded it along with the rest of your clothing, haphazardly scattered on the floor. Instantly, the other segments paused whatever they were doing to gaze at your hole, entranced by your pretty pussy. 

You let out a moan when Sigma’s finger gently rubbed your opening, before slipping a finger in which you squealed at. Throwing your head back, you nearly kicked him were it not for the other's firm grip on your thighs.

“An exquisite reaction,” Sigma praised. “So sensitive… I wonder, is it because of the aphrodisiac, or has Prime been neglecting you lately?” The segment cooed before curling his finger inside of you, making your back arch. At your adorable reactions, the other segments simply couldn’t wait either. It wasn’t long before you felt another two fingers push inside you - but it wasn’t Sigma this time. Delta had quietly watched your pussy gradually become wetter, having the perfect view from behind you, and now he wanted to hear all the squelching your hole would make around his fingers. However, it seemed that Sigma had something to say about sharing your cunt with the others.

“Only I get to fuck their pussy today.” This bold statement automatically had the other three turning on him.

“Excuse me? And how did you decide that? I am going to taste them too,” Beta immediately rebuked Sigma’s statement.

“I’m older than all of you. Why would I not get to fuck them first?”

“Older? On what basis?” Alpha grumbled. “Sure, you may be closer to Prime’s age, but technically speaking, I’ve been around longer than any of you.”

“Well, it was me who came up with the idea of an aphrodisiac in the first place. I should get to go first then,” Beta piped in.

“And you would not have known that if I did not happen to mention their reading collection to you,” Delta cut in as well.

… They were really fighting right now despite being three fingers deep inside your cunt. That was simply wonderful (but expected to be honest). Normally you’d find it amusing but you just really wanted to come already.

“Stop fighting. You can have your turn next time,” you whined, wriggling around in their embrace, trying to get some pleasure from their fingers. 

“Oh? Already thinking about next time, are you?” Sigma chuckled before Beta squeezed your thigh.

“I told you that they wanted this. I bet [Name] has been thinking about this more than we thought,” Beta taunted you. “Dirty thing.”

“Regardless… I suppose I can let this one time pass,” Alpha huffed, (though he was actually pretty accustomed to being overshadowed by his older selves), and Delta grunted in agreement - although he was still going to finger fuck you. 

Now that that little spat was over, the two segments began moving their fingers inside you again, not exactly in unison though. Sigma was going slowly while Delta was plunging his in and out of you. The sensation was making your head reel and you could hardly notice the other two segments were already unbuttoning their pants. Tears sprung to your eyes as you dug your nails hard into someone’s arm - you couldn’t focus on who - that was sure to leave marks. 

Together, the differentiating paces successfully drove you crazy and you quickly came, juices running down their fingers. The sudden burst of pleasure, heightened by the aphrodisiac had you gasping and shaking, although there wasn’t much of that considering all four of them had a firm grip on you. You tried to catch your breath when a finger wiped the corner of your eye.

“Crying already? But hardly anything has happened yet,” Alpha observed.

“Leave them. It shows that the aphrodisiac is working. Not just one of your fantasies now, is it?” Delta teased you as he began to lay you on your back instead of his chest. You blinked as he rested your head on a pillow, wondering what was happening before you were suddenly very aware his cock was close to you, his underwear being the only barrier. Blinking again, you saw that the others were in a similar position, eager to come too.

“As much as I would like to play with you for a while longer, it seems like no one is willing to wait that long. Truly a shame,” Sigma sighed while discarding his pants as well. “But there’s always next time, right dear? Regardless, I trust you know what comes next.” 

You tried to formulate a response but you found your throat had gone dry at the fact that this was really about to happen.

“Don’t get nervous on me now. I know full well you can take it,” Beta was the first to tug his cock out, delighting in how you inhaled at the sight.

“I- I… um- mmph!” Before you could say anything, Beta’s hand rested on top of your head, the tip of his cock briefly nuzzling your cheek, before he properly parted your lips and thrusted into your mouth roughly.

“I thought I said not to be so rough to them at first?” Sigma sighed at his fellow segment’s action, before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing in. The sensation made you moan around Beta, in turn causing him to thrust again. Though he seemed impatient, the truth was he was still restraining himself - his pace would have been harsher if he didn’t feel a bit worried for you.

Refusing to wait around, Alpha and Delta grabbed your hands and wrapped them around their hardened cocks as well, a sign for you to start stroking them unless you wanted them to do it for you. You were quickly swept into their pace, both of your hands being occupied in no time. You clumsily stroked them, seeing as it was hard to focus while being fucked, but the two segments seemed as though they were more than enjoying it. Perhaps they’ve been pent up for too long.

Alpha had already begun biting his tongue to hide his needy pants, his previous calm and collected words quickly dissipating. If only you weren’t being fucked by three other people, you’d have teased him for his whininess. However, the segment also used that to his advantage, suddenly squeezing your breast and rubbing the head of his cock against your nipple. The sensation against your sensitive bump had your back arching and legs flailing, although they were securely hooked around Sigma’s shoulders.

You could already feel Alpha’s pre-cum leaking onto your chest - it was already impressive he hadn’t come yet, considering what Dottore was like back when he was a student, coming hard after some light arousal (and then getting tired, you had to ride his face to get yourself off.)

The segment eyed your breasts with fluttering eyes and a heaving chest, seemingly trying to consider what to do next in his hazy mind, before grabbing your other breast and squishing them together with haste. In no time, he bucked his hips closer, slipping his aching cock between the soft flesh. You were warm - even more so due to the aphrodisiac - and your tits enveloped his cock better than he could have ever dreamed of. Not bothering to retain his composure, Alpha continued to clumsily yet quickly fuck your boobs, squeezing and pulling at them at the same time. None of the others had bothered to comment on it, considering they were all more interested in fucking the other parts of your body.

Meanwhile, Delta’s large hand was wrapped around yours on his cock, moving it up and down for you, unsatisfied with your pace. It was fast enough that you were sure your arm was going to be aching for a day, but you were also sure that applied to your whole body in general.

Still, this was all so much to take in, having both your pussy and mouth fucked at the same time at a bruising pace had your eyes half-lidded and struggling to keep up with the segments, seemingly built with endless energy, but a particularly harsh thrust from Sigma had you nearly gagging on Beta’s cock, to which the segment tightened his grip on your head.

“I thought you said I was being too rough?” Beta clicked his tongue at Sigma’s hypocrisy, and the older one merely smiled.

“I simply want to make sure they’re awake to feel my cock properly. Don’t you feel the same?”

“It doesn’t matter. They’d be happy as long as they’re being fucked. You wouldn’t protest at all, would you? Letting yourself be used even when you’re not conscious?” Delta hissed, and Sigma let out a sigh as you helplessly tightened around his own cock, clearly enjoying the filthy words.

“Ah, now there’s a grand idea. Darling, I’d be happy to discuss the possibility of nighttime visits, if you like it so much. It would be lovely to see you wake up to being filled,” Sigma chuckled, and you couldn’t even respond to him since your mouth was full of Beta’s cock. 

While the two older segments were busy teasing you, you could also feel that Alpha was close to coming. His pace had gone sloppy and he had lost his grip on your tits, instead just humping them pathetically. Beta was in a similar state, speeding up his thrusts in a way you knew he was about to come as well, and Delta was wordlessly getting as much pleasure as he could out of your abused hand. You could feel your own orgasm building up too, especially when Sigma moved to rub your clit. With a squeeze of your thighs, he relentlessly pumped himself inside you without stopping.

“Now,” he stated, “I’m going to fill you up, and you’re going to come on my cock. Understand?” You blinked at him through pleading teary eyes, and he laughed. “Good. Perfect, my love.”

Only a few seconds after, Alpha was the first one to let go, coming all over your tits with a low hiss, quietened by biting his bleeding lip. It spurted all over your chest, running down the hill of your boobs onto your stomach, and the segment was left panting, lazily rubbing his softening cock against your soft skin. The liquid only served to make you more aroused, squeezing your legs around Sigma’s neck as a plea to let you come already. In response, as a way of saying ‘have patience,’ Sigma flicked his hand against your cunt, finger catching your clit, and the light pain with pleasure nearly had you choking again.

As if that was the trigger for Beta, he too suddenly pulled out of your mouth, and before you could question what he was doing, came on your face, globs of cum streaking down your cheek along with your tears, some dripping down your chin and landing on your chest. You hazily blinked at the white liquid coating your body, before some more was added.

Without wasting a second, Delta let go of your hand and popped his cock in your briefly empty mouth before your poor throat could even have a chance to recover. It only took one or two thrusts for him to empty himself inside your mouth, doing so with a groan of pleasure, keeping your head locked in place, and only pulling out once he was sure you had swallowed every bit of his cum. The last few minutes left you gasping and moaning, your noises now clear for all in the room to hear - including the cries that left your lips and the mashing of your hole.

“P-Please, I’m- ah, so, so, close-” Your words had lost coherent structure at this point, trying your best to convey what you really needed.

“I know. I can feel you,” Sigma dragged himself in and out of you, making sure you felt everything. “You’ve been so good to us. Of course you can come.” Along with his ramming, he quickly circled your clit, until finally, finally, you came hard, rolling your head back and an unrecognizable squeal tore from your throat. The feeling of you spasming around his cock had Sigma digging his hands into your soft thighs as he filled you to the brim, only pulling out after a few moments. Gently, he pushed his fingers near your sore pussy, humming as you made a soft noise of protest, just to make sure none of his cum escaped your oozing pussy. 

As you lay there used and twitching, your cunt stuffed full of cum, and your face and chest painted with it, the segments took a moment to admire how pretty you looked like that. Beta stroked your head, as if apologizing for his fierce grip, although he made sure to gather up his cum and press it to your lips, smiling widely as you obediently parted his lips for him to suck on his fingers. 

“Looks like the aphrodisiac isn’t as strong as we anticipated. What a pity.” Alpha had tried to recollect himself after that embarrassing display of neediness as if he wasn’t also tired from coming.

“Is it really? I’d say it was quite powerful. After all, they took all four of us with hardly any complaints. It served us both well.” Sigma chuckled as he gently lowered your legs from his shoulders onto the bed, pressing soft kisses to your thigh as he did so.

“It still could use some tweaking, however,” Delta stated. “I believe it hasn’t nearly reached its potential.” The segment had moved away to begin drawing a bath to clean you up.

“Regardless, you did exceptionally well,” Beta praised you with his sharp-toothed grin, and you only let out a soft noise of affirmation as you were lifted up to be cleaned.

—

The segments cleaned you up a few minutes after - you weren’t sure if your bathtub would fit all five of you but it did somehow. Surprisingly they were pretty cooperative, for the most part at least. Afterward, they changed your sheets and dressed you in some comfortable clothes.

“Here,” before you could react, some kind of syrup was being poured into your mouth. “For your throat,” Alpha said because a certain someone couldn’t hold back, although he didn’t say that part out loud. Sigma pulled your blankets up and tucked you in as well.

“What, are you all leaving?” You looked at them with sad eyes.

“We have been away from work for quite a while, love.” You pouted at his response as you tugged at his arm.

“You can’t do that. You have to stay at least until I fall asleep, all of you,” you stressed the ‘all’, reaching to grab Delta’s hand as well.

“[Name]-”

“Nope! I’m not listening!” You then pulled Alpha, who was the easiest to push around, into the bed with you.

And so, you now had the four segments cuddling with you, each of them touching your body in some way. Sigma and Delta were snuggled closely on each of your sides, but Alpha and Beta were left in the more uncomfortable positions, awkwardly laying on top of you and face cuddled into your chest. There were some grumbles from them but you quickly shushed them up. More importantly, you felt very warm and content with all of them holding you.

You had a feeling the four segments weren’t leaving you anytime soon, either.

[maplleaf]

Time

Anaxa x reader

Tags: angst, sweetbitter

Note: Hello kitty pajamas girl or goth femboy? Hmm decisions decisions. The goth femboy is one of the...you know, shit's SPICY .

Jokes aside, i love him. Idc if he gets nerved 100 times, i will roll for him and his lc

The words most people first know about a certain sage of the Grove is to call him by his full name of Anaxagoras, even so no one seems to take it seriously. The man himself doesn't even correct people most of the time.

So the question remained, why even bother telling people to call him by his full name?

If they ask Tribbie, she'll smile and tell them to ask him themselves. If they ask any of the chrysos heirs, they'll tell them to ask Tribbie. Don't even bother asking Lady Aglea.

If someone asked him that head on, he'll scoff and shove away the question. Then he'll see those people leave disappointed before letting out a sigh as a memory comes to mind.

"Anaxagoras."

The young student looked at the other, who suddenly called his name. Both of you were shaded under the thick and heavy leaves, only traces of light managed to hit your face, but leaving him completely in the dark.

Back then, everything was simpler. The biggest worry he had was the next test. He remembered clearly reading a book you recommended to him, even if it's fiction.

"Why do people not call you by that?" you asked, leaning back against the thick branch.

Anaxa's brows furrowed in confusion, "have you heard me getting called by a different name?"

A groan escaped your throat, "That's not what i meant." You adjusted your seating, letting your hair fall messily in front of your face and blocking your eyes. "They call you Anaxa."

The other still held a confused expression, even his eyes squinted for a moment. "Because that's my name," he answered before adding with a deadpan tone, "Or are you that braindead you do not know the definition of a name...?"

You scoffed, kicking his crossed legs. "Asshole," a satisfied smile crept its way into his lips as he heard you.

"I mean, Anaxagoras is such a cool name. Like," he saw you made a grand gesture wigh your hand, looking at him swith stars in your eyes. "Anaxagoras! A genius in Amphoreus!" You then deflated, and your gesture became sluggish. "Anaxa.... a genius of Amphoreus..."

He saw your smile widen as you laughed. "See, it's so much better. You should capitalize on it."

Anaxa listened and watched your antics closely. It's strange, truly. How could a person wreck his usual habits so easily? He knows he has a test tomorrow morning, but here you are in the hidden depths of the Groves with a novel in his lap just because you said it was good.

"Whatever," he scoffed. Going back into his literature.

Ever since then, you started calling him by his full name. Even asking others to do the same. Anaxa didn't care much since people were usually hesitant to even talk to him, making it hard to offend him with a simple thing like names.

As more time passed, and his achievements rose. There would be this one scholar beside him, always keeping him grounded.

Anaxa, whilst he does sometimes get annoyed by the antics, likes that simplicity. He had to deal with prophecies, gods, and powers uncomprehended by mankind; but there was this aspect of life that remained the same. That remained simple.

He remembered asking you once. It was right after meeting Aglea and having a talk about the prophecies.

The leaves shaded him completely, in contrast to you, who was basking in the sunlight. He held a blank book in hand, the pencil creating strokes that slowly resembled a person.

In the middle of the quietness, he asked; "In this world of Titans and Demigods, what are you most scared of?"

He knew compared to him. Objectively, you were an ant in history. You're not a chrysos heir, and you had no connection to the Titans. Your achievements were recorded within the Groves archives, but nothing that would make non-scholars recognize your name.

With your simplicity comes uncertainty.

He heard you humming before answering; "Time."

Anaxa stopped his movement, before locking eyes with you. The bustling sound of the Grove sounding louder for a moment, but your voice sounding clear amidst it all.

"I'm scared the longer i live, the more i will forget. That either the world forget me wholely or i will forget everything," you answered further before chuckling. "Just the concept of it all feels so terrifying."

Anaxa subconsciously analyzed your expression. It held fear but also hope. He saw your eyes twinkle for a moment before looking up at him.

A smile still on your face as you stated. "That's why, promise you won't forget me, Mr. Anaxagoras the Demigod."

Anaxa remembered thinking back on your statement and nodding. He shrugged away that uneasiness in him; "i promise."

Your hand then lowered his book, seeing the results. A sketch of your face in charcoal pencil, every detail perfectly captured. "You sure this is for an assignment? Could've passed off as a modeling debut for me."

Anaxa rolled his eyes, snatching the book back and smacking your head lightly with it. "As if anyone would like that."

He heard you scoff, rubbing the spot but holding a wide smile. "You still love me, Anaxagoras."

Anaxa didn't reply at that.

When he heard his fate was 'incomplete', he had chalked it off as being related to his experience with death. But that day, a new revelation hits him.

'It was unpreventable.'

'There was nothing you could've done.'

'It was an accident no one foresaw.'

The more he heard those words, the more he felt his sanity slipping with each syllable they uttered. He was wary when you were assigned an assignment regarding the Time Titan. He was even more concerned when he was met with silence during the day of your supposed return.

He took a few moments to process after Tribbie had checked up on your research site per his request, only to see her empty-handed with a sorrowful expression.

At that second, the numbness of death felt like relief. An indescribable feeling of heaviness weighed down in his chest as realization sunk in, and all he could do was take it with no way of escaping.

There was the urge to scream, cry; anything. But he couldn't, too frozen to react.

He felt his heart and soul being split apart in two, a pain deep within him but at the same time feeling numb in disbelief. A feeling of... regret?

There were so many things to do, but he didn't. All in favor of what? His ego, pride, in order to find the right time?

His mind went back to Aglea's words after his meeting with her that day. This path isn't meant for the faint-hearted, that every Chrysos Heir will go through hell and back.

There were ways this could've been prevented. He could've done something. Even if it was an accident, it's by all means not an excuse for death.

Tribbie could recall the distraught hidden behind his empty expression. "If you need something... we're here for you."

Anaxa, despite his mind being suddenly broken into pieces, replied. "Can you bring them back?"

Her silence was enough for him.

To say a part of him died that day was an understatement. For a moment, his beliefs shook as he thought on his prophecy.

The thought of you being in his prophecy as the reason for his 'incompleteness' brought him comfort for a moment. Maybe a part of him wanted to believe that this really was out of his hands. But he shoved that thought down deep, the same way he chose to shove any guilt he could.

Anaxa didn't want your legacy to be tainted with his name, so he chose to only speak of your achievements.

Even as hundreds of years passed. He couldn't bring himself to forget any part about you. Your mannerisms and likeness were slowly getting picked up by him like a ritual.

Maybe that way, it was like you were still here. Just not with him. He was like a desperate man adjusting his life just to feel a semblance of your presence. Whether it'll be your naming habits, the books you read, your favorite spots, anything just to make it bearable.

Even so, even if he still insists on others to do it, knowing you were the only person who willingly does it brought him... comfort.

"Don't call me Anaxa, call me by my full name. Anaxagoras."

The last habit he picked up is one he insisted on doing himself.

If you're looking for the professor, you might find him sitting under the leaves that shaded him. A blank notebook in hand as his pencil sketches out your portrait. Another habit he picked up is his way of remembering your features. Something he refused to let happen years or even decades after.

That's what he thought, at least. A horrifying realization entered his mind as his pencil stopped in place.

"What did their eyes look like?"

[yyokkki]

The Prefect's Laugh

Dropping this monstrosity i wrote in September 2023 because I feel like I'm never going to leave this fandom.

First Years x gn! Prefect

Warning: I haven't played chapter 7, Prefect has a distinct personality so it doesn't really count as x reader but some people could find them relatable, a jumble of canon and non-canon events, mild cursing?

Divider by @saradika

It wasn’t that the Prefect never smiled. In fact, they may have smiled a little too often. It could be as simple as a wordless greeting or as complex as a way to cope with fear, but there was one particular expression the first years saw only once in a blue moon. The smile that comes alongside a fit of laughter.

The first time Ace saw the infamous Ramshackle Prefect smile like that was not too long after they had first met. It was a day or two after Heartslabyul’s housewarden overblotted and they’d finally gotten the rose garden in order.

While chatting about that day’s happenings, a rather embarrassing detail was brought up (embarrassing to Ace at least).

“Can we, like, NOT talk about this anymore??”

“I mean, the housewarden was really going in on you and you just stood there and took it but as soon as he said those things about the Prefect’s parents you didn’t even hold back. It’s weirdly sweet of him, right?”

Deuce looked towards the Prefect for their input to which they replied by fervently nodding their head.

“Wow, who could’ve guessed that maybe THE Ace Trappola cares about his friends??”

“…Honestly would’ve believed you more if you said you did it just to prove you could.”

“Pfft-“

Ace’s head whipped to the side, and he stared at the blooming smile on the Prefect’s face. Crinkled eyes, a hand in front of their mouth and slightly flushed cheeks as they tried to hold in their chuckles.

He wanted to make a snarky comment, something like, ‘I’ve been trying to make you laugh for the past two weeks and THIS Is what makes you break?’

Instead, what came out of his mouth was… Silence.

Maybe the new expression was too shocking as he just stared, five parts confusion, three parts embarrassment, two parts bashfulness. The most he could get out of them even with the most well-crafted jokes were slight smirks and yet something Deuce said without even intending to be funny made them crack.

He felt wronged.

And flustered.

…Shit, why are they kinda cute.

Going back to before the overblot, a day that Deuce personally considers more traumatising than his own housewarden’s mental breakdown.

Sorrowfully gazing upon the carnage of eggshells, whites and yolks jumbled up in the plastic bag branded with the words, Mr. S’ Mystery Shop, Deuce gave out another wistful sigh.

“I just hope those chicks can rest in peace.”

“…You know those eggs don't hatch into chickens, right?”

Shocked, flabbergasted, gobsmacked, stunned, stupefied, bowled-over; all words that could be used to describe Deuce Spade’s current state of mind.

“Wh- WHAT??? YOU’RE KIDDING.”

While Deuce was having an epiphany about the eggshell-shocking revelation, he noticed the Prefect’s slightly hunched over back and trembling frame. He was about to go comfort them when he saw their face…

And heard their laughter, ringing out like the sound of wind chimes swaying with the summer breeze, despite it being mid-September.

“YOU’RE LAUGHING???”

He looked at them with five parts feelings of betrayal, three parts despair and two parts anger. He was so offended that he immediately stormed off with the grocery bags in hand, huffing and puffing as he went on his unmerry way.

It wasn’t until later that the Prefect started feeling guilty about their reaction to the incident. It kind of felt like telling a little kid Santa wasn’t real…

They apologised, got him a book about the evolution of egg production, hugged it out and all was forgiven.

It wasn’t until much much later that Deuce Spade realised, he had only seen the Prefect laugh a handful of times, that incident taking up one of the spaces.

It had grown to become one of his favourite sounds in the world.

Jack Howl was never one for bad jokes or witty banter. Whenever he and the Prefect stood together, besides looking like a sturdy tree next to a swaying flower, they didn’t look friendly- much less like friends.

Only the two of them understood the solidarity that came with the silence. They were each others go-to when the other first years got too rowdy.

Truly the mom and dad of the group.

They would occasionally engage in conversation. Somehow when they were together, asking about each other’s day would lead to which parts of home they missed most now that they were away or embarrassing childhood memories, they hadn’t told anyone else about.

It was on a day like any other, a long while after the deep sea overblot.

Jack and the Prefect had finally started speaking to each other comfortably, yet most of their time together was spent just existing in the same room, doing their own thing.

It wasn’t awkward, at least not to the Prefect. But they had to ask just in case.

“Hey, do you ever feel like we don’t really talk when we hang out?”

“…Well, we are at the library.”

“I mean at other places too.”

Jack looked up from his notes, glancing at the Prefect with a little apprehension tracing his features.

“Why? You find it weird?”

“No, I like it a lot, just- I’m not used to it you know? Whether it’s the friends I’ve made here or my friends from back home they’ve never been the type to let the room stay quiet for over five seconds.”

They shifted slightly to cast an inquisitive glance over at him, “I can’t tell if you mind or not.”

Against his very own will, Jack’s tail started flowing slightly. So, they like being around him?

“I feel the same as you. I like our time together.”

Realising he sounded a little too soft, he immediately started backpedalling.

“Not that that means anything. I enjoy spending time with many people, doesn’t make you special.”

After finishing his piece, Jack looked back down at his notes, playing it cool. His tail, however, betrayed his feelings.

"Pfhaha, so cute, it’s like a helicopter-“

“…”

Not knowing how to defend himself, Jack got up to sit across the Ramshackle Prefect, blocking their view of his tail but giving him the perfect angle to catch all their expressions.

…It may be a little too late for him.

It all started with a godforsaken game of PG rated chicken.

Epel Felmier didn’t know whose dumb idea it was to hold a competition like this among all the first years but damn was he killin’ it.

It was almost too easy. It made him feel conflicted. Should he be happy that he’d somehow reached the finals? Or mad that it’s all cause of his face and build?? Either way, the prize was too good to pass up so he was gonna win.

So far he’d been flyin’ through with direct eye contact and a smile or two if his opponents were tougher but the final round had been filling him with a weird sense of dread, so he decided to prepare a little somethin’ special this time.

He doubted he’d have to use it though; he didn’t think very highly of the kids at NRC in this specific department…

That being until he got a text from the organiser telling him who his opponent was, that being: the Ramshackle Prefect.

Well shit.

He knew they never judged anybody, including him, for their appearance, and he’d always appreciated them for that. But in this context, it would make ‘em a tough nut to crack.

Not even mentioning, they knew his weakness when he didn’t have theirs.

He immediately pulled down their chat and started typing ferociously.

‘you. me. ramshackle lounge. after school. please?’ And send.

Might as well get a practise round in to scope the waters.

Luckily, the Prefect considered him a friend and wasn’t overly cautious, so not long after the text was sent an ‘ok’ was promptly sent back.

As soon as school let out, Epel ran into the Prefect in the mirror chamber, and they embarked towards Ramshackle dorm together.

He’d informed them of his intentions while on the way, so they got started after arriving.

First, he tried his usual techniques despite knowing they wouldn’t work. As expected, the Prefect didn’t so much as flinch.

Then they smiled warmly at him.

“Your training has been working out really well, I can see a little more definition on your arms. How do you even do it? What you lack in a natural constitution is already being made up for by your will and perseverence! It's really rare to find people like you out there.”

Shit, a genuine compliment about his mental and physical growth! That’s critical damage, how could they be so dirty, using his weakness against him?

Well, if that’s how they’re gonna play it.

Epel held up his two hands in front of him, forming a heart with his fingers.

The Prefect looked unfazed. They just smiled at him, mockingly (Epel’s perception).

Fine. He’s been left with no choice but to pull out his secret weapon.

“I-If you were a fruit, you’d be a FINEAPPLE!” Absolutely humiliating.

But also absolutely effective.

The Prefect’s mask started cracking at its seams.

“F-fineapple? I never thought I'd ever hear you say anything like that- Pfft hehe-“

He'd won, but his face was as red as his namesake as the visage of his Prefect’s tinted cheeks and choked back giggles entered his heart.

On the day of the competition, he lost miserably. The Prefect ended up passing the prize onto him, claiming they were only participating for fun, but he wasn’t really upset.

It’s for the best that no one else sees that face anyways.

Sebek Zigvolt’s sole purpose for living is to serve his young master as a reliable retainer.

In order to be reliable, he must excel in both academics and athletics. Athletics weren’t worth mentioning and he found all academic subjects easy enough.

All except for art, that is.

Making use of a medium to place your creative vision onto a surface sounded simple, yet the product had never lived up to his expectations, creating a habit of casting fire spells to burn the causes of his shame.

After yet another round of sweeping up the ashes of a canvas, he’d decided enough was enough. As unbecoming as it was, a good retainer would ask for help when he really needed it.

And he really really needed it.

His next course of action was to head over to the staff room and inquire with the Art professor for private lessons, only to be told that she had no empty slots in her schedule.

“If you don’t mind learning from another student, I recommend asking the Ramshackle Prefect to tutor you. They’re one of the best among their peers and I’ve seen them offering help to other students during my classes so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

That magicless human? He’d only ever spoken two or three sentences to them, and he couldn’t stand the uncouth beast following them around every hour of the day, but if they truly were one of the best…

Thus started a deal he would come to regret in the future.

The Prefect wasn’t a bad teacher. They’d gotten him to start on the basics before even thinking of the elaborate portraits he’d always been hellbent on doing.

Once he’d finally grasped the techniques needed, he immediately jumped onto the opportunity to paint his young master, using one of his sacred wallet sized photos as reference. The Prefect stood beside him the whole time, pointing out mistakes and fixing any parts he deemed unsatisfactory.

The only qualm he had was that they’d protested to his idea to paint a wall sized mural, stating that it was too advanced.

With a beautiful portrait in tow, he returned and hung it up near his shrine. It couldn’t compare to his young master’s radiance but it had been the best thing he’d ever painted and he was felling pleased with himself.

An idea came over him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without their help after all…

And that was what led to him showing up at Ramshackle outside of lesson hours with a small canvas nervously clenched in his hands.

“Human. It didn’t turn out as well without your guidance, but this is a little token of appreciation for your help these past few weeks.” He pushed the portrait into the Prefects hands, ready to accept criticism.

“…”

“Human..?”

“…Pffhehe-, I never expected you to do something so heartfelt for a ‘dumb human’. Heh, I guess I really grew on you!”

“Why are you laughing?! ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME??”

If he had his sword on him he would be unsheathing it right now.

“No, no, thanks man, I love it.”

The brightest and most genuine smile he’d ever seen from them blossomed.

He felt his face burn and his heartbeat rise to an abnormal degree as the Prefect’s warm gaze felt as though it were boring into him.

…I must inquire with Master Lilia what hex this human has placed upon me. Right this instant!

[koyagifs]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝

━━�� pairing: sylus x reader x rafayel ━━━ au: non mc ━━━ genre: angst with comfort ━━━ word count: 2.4k ━━━ synopsis: think of me when you’re out there ━━━ warning(s): mentions of wine, rafayel to the rescue.

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You remember when you met Rafayel — it was right after you’d walked away from Sylus. The timing was cruel, almost cinematic. You had accidentally bumped into him, causing him to spill his drink slightly. At first, he was irritated, his eyes narrowing in mild annoyance. But then he saw your face — the distress written across it, the way your expression carried the weight of something you couldn’t name.

Something in him tugged.

Normally, he would’ve scoffed and walked away without a second thought. But there was something about you — so broken, yet so painfully beautiful — that made him pause. And in that pause, something shifted.

He held his hand out for you to take, fingers steady, gaze softer than you expected. The look of confusion on your face must’ve been obvious, because he let out a low chuckle — warm, teasing.

“Well,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “it would be rude of me to let such a gorgeous girl just walk past me when she looks clearly upset.”

There was no pity in his voice, just a strange kind of gentleness — the kind you hadn’t felt in a long time. Not with Sylus. Not since everything.

And maybe that’s why you hesitated. Maybe that’s why, despite every reason to walk away, you placed your hand in his. Since taking his hand, you haven't looked back and you're forever grateful for rafayel to be there for you.

There you were — draped in elegance, your dress hugging your figure in all the right places, catching the low light like it was made just for you. A glass of wine balanced delicately in your hand, the rich red liquid swirling slowly as you shifted your weight.

Rafayel stood beside you, his arm wrapped snugly around your waist, pulling you in close like you were his anchor in the room. His grip was firm, possessive, but not uncomfortable — more like a silent reminder that you weren’t alone.

His smile, however, was anything but genuine. It was the kind of practiced, polished expression that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he nodded along to whatever nonsense Thomas was rambling about. You didn’t need to hear the words to know Rafayel wasn’t really listening.

You were just about to lift the glass to your lips when a flicker of silver caught your eye — that unmistakable glint of familiar hair under the chandelier light.

Your breath hitched. The glass paused midair.

Your body went rigid before you could stop it, muscles tensing as if struck by a ghost you weren’t ready to face.

Rafayel noticed instantly.

His hand, still resting around your waist, tightened just slightly — not possessive this time, but protective. He didn’t say a word, didn’t have to. His eyes followed your line of sight, narrowing when they landed on the man who had carved that ache into your chest.

Sylus.

Standing tall across the room, like he hadn’t shattered you. Like he hadn’t replaced you.

You forced yourself to blink, to breathe, lowering the glass before your shaking hand could betray you. Rafayel’s fingers curled against your side, grounding you, pulling you back from that cliff you hadn’t even realized you were standing on.

He leaned in slightly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmured, “Do you want to leave?”

It was a simple question. One that gave you an out.

But your pride — or maybe your heartbreak — wouldn’t let you move.

Not yet.

You shook your head, forcing a soft smile onto your lips as you rested your hand gently against Rafayel’s chest. The gesture was poised, graceful — but he could feel the tension beneath your touch.

“Of course not,” you said, your voice smooth despite the storm brewing beneath it. “Let’s not ruin your night, after all.”

Rafayel let out a low scoff, the sound laced with sarcasm as he leaned in closer, his own smile never faltering.

“As if you don’t know how much these things bore me, cutie,” he murmured, his voice warm with amusement — but his eyes didn’t leave Sylus.

He knew bullshit when he heard it. You were putting on a show, the same way you always had to when Sylus was involved. And as much as Rafayel hated that it still affected you, he respected that you didn’t run. You stayed. Chin up. Looking beautiful and untouchable, even when your heart was fraying at the seams.

“Let’s give him a real reason to regret, yeah?” Rafayel added with a wink, his tone dipped in mischief as he guided you just a little closer — not for show, but for you. For comfort. For protection. For all the things Sylus used to offer but no longer could.

Without another word, Rafayel plucked the glass of wine from your hand with a smoothness that barely disrupted your composure. You blinked, surprised — but said nothing as he turned and casually handed it to Thomas, who looked personally offended by the interruption.

Rafayel didn’t even glance at him.

“I’m going to take her dancing,” he said simply, his tone light, but with an edge of finality that brooked no argument.

Thomas opened his mouth, clearly about to object, but Rafayel cut him off with a lazy smile and a dismissive wave.

“I’m not running away, Thomas. Try to survive without me for five minutes.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped from your lips — barely there, but real — and that alone seemed to be reward enough for Rafayel. His hand found yours again, fingers lacing through yours with practiced ease as he tugged you toward the floor.

Away from the heavy stares. Away from silver-haired ghosts.

“Let’s give them something to really stare at,” he whispered as the music picked up.

And for a moment… just one moment, you let yourself fall into him.

Sylus wasn’t stupid when he showed up tonight. He knew you’d be here — it was the entire reason he came. The mission, the aftermath, the chaos you left in your wake… none of it bothered him as much as your absence did.

You always came back. Always hovered in the periphery, just close enough to reach, just far enough to deny. But after that night — the core, the balcony, the earpiece left behind like a silent goodbye — you vanished. Not a single trace. Not even a whisper through the network.

It rattled him.

So when he walked into the room tonight, his eyes searched before his feet had even stopped moving. And there you were — stunning in a dress that made his chest tighten, your hand resting against his waist.

Rafayel.

Of course it would be him.

Sylus clenched his jaw, his expression carved from stone — unreadable, calculated. But beneath the surface, something raw festered.

His hands twitched at his sides. Not with aggression, no. With memory. With instinct. With the lingering phantom of the nights he used to pull you away from crowded rooms, fingers circling your wrist like he belonged there.

He didn’t anymore. And that fact tasted bitter on his tongue.

From across the room, he could see Rafayel’s hand resting low on your back, guiding you through the rhythm of the music like you were his favorite song. He spun you with a flourish, only to pull you back into his chest — smug, elegant, utterly unbothered.

It wasn’t just a dance. It was a statement.

She’s mine now.

Sylus’s breath came short through his nose, the burn of jealousy tightening around his throat like a vice. You looked… free. Alive in a way he hadn’t seen in far too long. The glow in your eyes, that laugh — it wasn’t rehearsed. It wasn’t polite. It was real.

And none of it was for him.

Not anymore.

Still, he couldn’t look away. Couldn't move. Just stood there like some pathetic fool in a suit, a weapon without a war, a man who traded the one person who knew him for someone easier to love.

And you? You danced like he never broke you.

That, more than anything, made him furious.

Rafayel was pulled away mid-turn, Thomas appearing like a storm in a tailored suit, murmuring something urgent against his ear. Rafayel’s brows furrowed, his eyes flickering back to you, reluctant — but Thomas gave him that look. The one that said if you want those buyers to sign, it has to be now.

He sighed, exasperated but resigned, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to your temple.

“Don’t move too far, cutie,” he murmured, voice teasing but protective.

Thomas gave you an apologetic smile as he all but dragged Rafayel toward the group waiting near the gallery’s private display. You smiled at the two, but the moment your gaze dropped, you felt it.

That familiar weight pressing against your spine — eyes, burning and unrelenting.

You didn’t need to look to know who it was.

Sylus.

Still watching. Still standing there like the air between you was thick with everything unsaid. You could practically feel the storm rolling off him, even with an entire ballroom between your bodies.

You sighed softly, schooling your expression back into something polite, distant. Elegant.

And then — finally — you turned your head just enough to meet his eyes.

Sylus said nothing at first. Just looked at you like he hadn’t slept since that night on the balcony.

Then, softer than you expected, “You look beautiful tonight.”

You didn’t smile. Not like how you used to when you two danced in his bedroom with the blinds drawn and the city lights flickering behind you. Back when the only thing you ever wore for him was that smile.

Now? You looked like a stranger wearing your own body.

“You always say that when I wear black,” you replied, voice calm, even — maybe a little bored.

Sylus exhaled a ghost of a chuckle. “Because you always did look like danger wrapped in silk.”

Your eyes finally met his again — sharp, glassy. “And you were always stupid enough to let danger feel like home.”

He flinched. Just barely. But you saw it. And for once, you didn’t look away.

You stayed still, his hand still on your waist like it belonged there — like it ever had the right. The music played on in the background, something soft and slow, but it felt like white noise between you two.

Your voice came low, sharp, like glass under velvet.

“What do you want, Sylus?”

It wasn’t playful. It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t how you used to ask, curled into his sheets after a mission, lips brushing his jaw with a smirk on your face.

This time it was tired. Hollow. Like you had nothing left to give.

Sylus’s jaw clenched again, but he didn’t look away. Couldn’t. Not from you.

“I wanted to see you,” he said finally, and God, it sounded honest.

You let out a breath — not quite a laugh, not quite a scoff. “Congratulations. You found me.”

You went to step back, but his grip tightened ever so slightly. Just enough to ask without forcing.

“I shouldn’t have let you go,” he said, voice barely audible over the music.

You met his gaze again, and this time, your smile was sharp. Pained.

“You didn’t ‘let me go,’ Sylus. You kicked me out.” Your voice cracked at the edge, sharp like a blade dulled from overuse but still capable of cutting.

Sylus sighed — that kind of slow, quiet exhale that carried regret in every inch of it. But still… still, he held you. Still, he moved with you in time to the soft rhythm playing in the background, like this was something the two of you could come back from.

Like swaying to music could erase months of silence and every message left on read.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he said finally, voice so low it was almost a whisper. “You were always so close. Too close. I—” He hesitated. “I thought putting distance between us would make things easier.”

You laughed then. A hollow, bitter thing that didn’t reach your eyes.

“For who?” you snapped, pulling your hand from his shoulder. “You? Her? Because it sure as hell didn’t make anything easier for me.”

His grip faltered, but he didn’t let go.

“I didn’t choose her over you,” he said, and it sounded like he truly believed it.

You stared at him — really looked at him — and it hit you just how tired he looked. Not just physically. Soul-deep.

“You didn’t have to say it, Sylus. I saw it. I lived it.”

And for the first time since he touched you, you stepped back.

Sylus let you go, but his eyes didn’t leave your face. Not for a second.

You barely had time to exhale before a presence moved in behind you — solid, grounding.

Rafayel.

You didn’t need to turn around to feel the storm he brought with him. The way his arm brushed against yours as he stepped just close enough to be a shield without making it obvious. But it was obvious — the anger radiating off of him was a living, breathing thing.

His gaze was locked on Sylus, jaw clenched, eyes dark and unreadable.

Glacial.

“You done here?” Rafayel asked, voice cool and low, every word laced with warning. It wasn’t a question meant for you — it was for Sylus. And it echoed like a promise: Step one inch closer, and I’ll ruin you.

Sylus didn’t answer right away.

He just looked between the two of you. The space where you used to stand with him now filled with another man — one who didn’t hesitate to show you off, one who didn’t need the shadows to love you loudly.

You stayed silent, fingers twitching slightly at your side, eyes locked on Sylus like you were daring him to lie. To say something—anything—that could make you forget all the nights he didn’t choose you.

But he didn’t.

He just gave you that look — the one filled with all the things he never said, and now, never could.

Rafayel took that as his cue, gently but firmly placing a hand on the small of your back.

“Let’s go,” he murmured, softer now, only for you.

And you nodded.

You didn’t look back this time.

taglist: @justpassingdontworry @dstrctaya @rena-library @boredgirls-things @girlwith-kalei-do-scope-eyes @jellypear @debrahhhhhhh @taytayy178 @cheezeandkrackers @bubbleteakittyy @lighting-and-shadow @aysmesays @chocochip-gaia @sylustoru @sleepykittyenergy @ruyaya @lifumi @angelichiaro @viqlume @mizifrog @loreleis-world @animegamerfox

[tinaswampdweller]

Sub!Bully!Gojo

Bully!Gojo who finds out about you in your last year of high school, one of his “friends” (lackeys as Suguru calls them) makes a dirty comment about your high ponytail when you walk past.

Bully!Gojo who thinks you’re decent, not groundbreakingly beautiful but not bad to look at. He decides that the basic uniform consisting of white button up shirt, dark grey blazer and a matching dark grey skirt looks particularly appealing on you in comparison to the other girls at school.

Bully!Gojo who strikes up conversation with you at lunch, sitting with you and your best friend. Invading your personal space and cutting your friend off everytime she speaks.

Bully!Gojo who is growing a little frustrated at your lack of interest, masking it well with his usual smug and mocking smile. You’re evading his questions and he finds that sour face that you make whenever you see him displeasing and offensive.

Bully!Gojo who you would’ve probably been interested in if your personal life wasn’t so tumultuous and your work life wasn’t so demanding outside of school. He doesn’t realise that it’s not that you don’t want him specifically, you don’t want anyone.

Bully!Gojo who turns nasty. Rumours emerge flowing throughout the school within a day, no one credits the source but it’s more than likely Gojo said it, only he has that reach.

Bully!Gojo who has no problem putting his hands on a woman, he slaps girl all the time when they’re fucking. He doesn’t see the problem with slapping a girl outside of sex. His lackeys push you around first but when you show a lack of reaction, he takes the reins.

Bully!Gojo who becomes confused when you snap at him, shoving him with an impressive force. Never seeing you fight back against him before. Your aggressive shove and snarling expression catches him off guard and the sudden desire to ask you to do it again arises. He finds it weirdly thrilling.

Bully!Gojo who becomes insufferable, no longer wanting to hurt you because he was offended you were non-verbally rejecting him but now wanting to see that side of you again. Wanting you to try putting him in his place.

Bully!Gojo who snatches your phone during lunch break with the intention of pushing you but instead it backfires. Crystal blue orbs widen in fury as he sees what’s on your screen. To you it’s a simple post of a cute guy, borderline a generic thirst trap but to him it shows your type. Your type that’s not him. Brown eyes, dark brown hair and dimpled cheeks stare back at him from the screen reflecting something that looks nothing like him. Your phone is left in pieces after that.

*

I think I might elaborate on the sub! Aspect more in a part two. hopefully some people find this decent. the part two will more than likely be NSFW hope you enjoyed.

[rememberwren]

Ghoap x Reader. Let's talk aftercare.

I said, how would aftercare work if the scene ends before it begins?

CW: Simon's history of non-con, safewording, not much aftercare for aftercare being my primary focus tbh, established ghoap, fem!reader.

-

Ghost safewords and disappears into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. 

Johnny hasn’t even kneeled up onto the bed yet. You’re still wearing your robe. The scene which the three of you had planned with near religious fanaticism for the last two weeks had barely even begun, and now it has already ended. 

You and Johnny stare at each other with twin expressions of confusion. Johnny, quick and long used to Ghost’s unpredictability, rushes the door. He knocks and then braces his hands against the doorframe, head down. 

“Simon? Can I come in?” he calls through the oak. 

“It’s unlocked,” Ghost says back, scathing. The water faucet has been turned on, muffling his voice a little but not his tone. He’s furious. You can take a guess as to at whom. 

It isn’t his fault, though, you think. You sit on the edge of the bed, toying anxiously with the hem of your robe, any and all arousal having sublimated into thin air with Ghost’s safeword. It’s hard to believe that only a few minutes ago, the three of you had been setting up with excitement, eager to play—or had you? Had there been signs that Simon wasn’t in the right headspace? Should you have been looking more closely? You draw your knees up toward your chest, wrapping your arms around them, feeling hollow. 

“Prefer if you opened the door instead of me,” Johnny says calmly, a pillar of strength, stone strong amongst the uncertain shifting sands. 

The door jerks open. Johnny disappears inside and gives you a sheepish glance before he shuts the door behind him. It’s fine. You can wait out here. The hollow feeling inside your chest seems to grow and swell, throbbing in time with your heart like an angry bruise. You wished you were inside the bathroom too, a part of their duo, more than just a temporary fixture in their bedroom. Should you get dressed? God, should you leave? No—you couldn’t do that, not before making sure that Simon was okay. 

After nearly ten minutes of heated whispers back and forth, the door opens and the two trudge out of the bathroom. Simon can’t meet your eye. 

“Well,” says Johnny, rubbing the back of his own neck. “This has been enlightening. Time for aftercare?” 

“Doesn’t aftercare usually come after something?” Simon asks waspishly. “Didn’t even manage to fucking do anything.” 

“Prepared to do something, didn’t we?” says Johnny, like it is a simple matter. “Can we get you anything? W—”

“You can get the hell out.” 

You slip off the bed. You don’t need to be told twice. You find where your clothes are piled carefully on top of the dresser and slip your underwear on beneath the robe, feeling too raw to just let the slinky, silky fabric fall to your feet and bare you to the room. 

“It’s important, Simon,” Johnny says, calm and resolute. “The way you’re acting tells me you need it.” 

“I need you to stop yapping for once in your goddamn life,” says Ghost, dressing himself with jerky movements on the other side of the room. 

“Then do it for her, aye?” Who? you wonder, looking over your shoulder. There is only you. You glance over your shoulder to see that Simon has stopped dressing himself, top half still bare, eyeing down Johnny like a dog who hasn’t decided yet if he intends to fight or find the threat beneath him. Johnny tips his head toward you. “She needs it too. Can’t you tell?” 

Simon’s brow furrows, mouth dipping into an even deeper scowl. His eyes flicker towards you, but you are determined to show him that whatever Johnny is saying is wrong. He doesn’t need to let you do anything; you’re fine. You hadn’t even been the one to safeword! But whatever he sees on your face has his eyes going a little soft, his mouth a little less harsh. 

“Water, I guess,” he mutters. “‘M thirsty.” 

“I’ll get it,” says Johnny. When he passes you, he lets his hand rest on your shoulder, dragging softly from one shoulder blade to the other. He asks: “Will you stay with him?”

You nod. Johnny isn’t giving you much of a choice. Not for the first time, you resent his meddling, the near-omniscient way he seems to know what everyone needs even when you couldn’t say for yourself  what that is. 

Simon has seated himself on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. With his back turned, you feel fine to drop the robe and tug a shirt on. Carefully toeing your way around the bed, you stand beside him, frowning, unsure what you’re doing here. Why you’re here. Johnny should be here. You should be fetching water like Lassie.

Simon glances up at you, a flash of irritation. He heaves a sigh. “Not angry at you.” 

“I know,” you say. You’re pretty sure that’s true. 

“I’m doing every fuckin’ thing right. Why’s it still going wrong?” he wonders, letting his hands down to hang loosely between his legs. 

You step there, until he has to put his hands on your hips, until he can bury his face in your chest. You stroke reach up tentatively, stroking at his hair the soft, easy way that he likes. You’re no good with words—are just as likely to stutter over the wrong words as you are the right ones. 

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I just know I’m not finished trying. Not if you aren’t.” 

He huffs a breath against you, turning to place his cheek and ear against your sternum. Your heart must be beating out of your chest, but he doesn’t mention it. Each of his slow, even breaths seems to melt away the icy hollow feeling inside your ribs.

“Thanks for stopping us,” you say, in case Johnny hasn't already. 

He looks up at you, dark, endless sort of eyes. He says: “Thanks for letting me.” 

You scratch his scalp softly, unable to respond. Johnny reappears, waters in hand.

[just1cefor4ll]

— Healing

Aiden Clark x touch starved!reader

genre: sligh angst to fluff

warnings: mentions of a slightly emotionally unavailable family, not proof read

You didn’t exactly grow up in a very affectionate family. Yes, you grew up in a very caring family but they weren’t really present when it came to comfort or the already said affection. You got hugged as a kid, but it was more on birthdays than on normal days where you had to ask to get that bit of warmth you so longed for. But even then it wasn’t enough to fill that hole that you thought would never ever be full.

Maybe it was fate that you met with the most amazing boy who always had his hands on you—in a non sexual way of course. But it all felt so foreign that you didn’t have a clue of how to reciprocate those actions.

Aiden was a very.. energetic boy to put it lightly. It really was a shocker to all of your friends that you— a very isolated and awkward person got together with the social butterfly that never kept his hands to himself when it came to you. Whether it was him having a hand around your waist, shoulder or holding hands, having a hand on your thigh.. he gave you his all. It overwhelmed you and you had no idea why since you did get affection as a kid but if you ever described that affection to someone they’d probably give you a big reality check. You couldn’t blame your parents though. They grew up with little to no affection at all just like you, their parents or your grandparents being very busy people during their younger years and weren’t so present like they were in your life, so you had to be grateful for the effort they put in when raising you.

You were going over to Aidens house, walking to the front door of the large looking house when the blonde boy swung the door open and pulled you into a hug. You kind of just stood there, your body stiff. You patted him awkwardly on the back and Aiden pulled away. “Come on let’s go upstairs, yeah?” Before you could reply you were off the ground and holding onto Aiden for dear life, your legs wrapped around his face while your hands were around his neck. He sat down on his bed with you now sitting in his lap with an uncomfortable expression. His smile dimmed at this, cupping your cheek and looked into your eyes. “Whats wrong baby, you feeling okay?” He asked in a worrisome tone and traced circles on your lower back.

He was left with only a simple shrug as an answer, your tongue frozen and your voice unable to be heard. You squirmed at his touch, the touch foreign and confusing which was nothing you haven’t thought before but you couldn’t help to always have that single statement lingering in your mind.

He pulled you off his lap and sat in front of you on the floor, his warm hands holding your own. “Is this okay?” He asked hesitantly. He wasn’t sure how to comfort people in situations like these— his usual humorous solutions to things unable to come out when it came to you being upset. He wanted to take all of this seriously, he tried his hardest to be there for you and understand what you were feeling when he couldn’t understand his own feelings most of the time. You nodded, tracing circles on his hands like he would; were you allowed to do this?

“We don’t have to talk, you know? We can just sit here in silence until you feel like doing something else, hm?” He asks with a soft smile. “Yeah that would- that would be great.” You say; barely above a whisper. “Thank you. And I’m sorry for being so difficult.” Aiden furrowed his brows, looking at you with a sympathetic look; “No, no you don’t need to apologise, especially for being uncomfortable. We can always talk about this.. you know, boundaries?” He suggests and you nod with a more truthful smile.

“You don’t ever need to earn my affection, nor do you ever need to ask for it. Whenever you feel like wanting a hug just come up to me and hug me. I’d be more then happy to have you in my arms.” Your cheeks felt hotter then usual, the words hitting a certain spot in your heart that has never been touched before in your life. It felt so amazing to have a boy so caring and understanding as him, but you just didn’t know how you deserved someone like him. “I.. could use a hug right now.” He smirked, his playful personality switching on again as if someome pressed a button in his brain that automatically alterered the way he was. “You’re blushing? How adorable.” He whispered and pulled you close, burying his face into your neck and held you by the waist.

Never have you felt so loved and heard before then at that moment— in his arms, safe and forever warm with the gentle sound of TWO SOULS COMBINED.

© URFAVLARRY

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE OR COPY ANY OF MY WRITING TO OTHER PLATFORMS

[hapuchika]

Feline Irritation

Summary: A simple date with their girlfriends ends disastrously... Well, at least for Y/n.

Warnings: None. Fluff. Just a shit ton of Fluff. Maybe swearing? but if swearing is a problem then honestly why are you reading any of my work..

A/N: This is a part of the Machiavellian Universe and has a few original characters.

Main Masterlist:

Series Masterlist

Enjoy!

X--X--X--X--X

Natasha considered herself to be a patient woman. She had dealt with all sorts of people; humans and non-humans.

But you.. you were getting on her fucking nerves.

The seventh sigh had her snapping. She whirled around to where you were walking behind her. Your grumpy face was a stark contrast to the afternoon at the park, where the three of you were.

“One more sigh, and so help me god. You’re going into the pond.” Nat warned.

You rolled your eyes, “It’s not my fault. I’m burning this fucking sweater when we get home.” You grumbled.

Wanda frowned, “Hey.. I made that sweater with love.” She said with a pout.

The witch had to admit that seeing you wear a bright yellow knit sweater and denim shorts was not something she ever thought she’d see.

You glared at the witch, “You poofed this sweater with magic in a second, Wands.”

“Love magic”, Wanda said with a sweet smile.

“Alright, enough, you two.” Natasha snapped.

This was supposed to be a relaxing date in the park. Granted, it had only been fifteen minutes, but she was ready to punch your annoyingly gorgeous face.

“Y/n,” Natasha said, grabbing Wanda’s hand. “You stay here. Wanda and I will get some coffee. Use that time to calm the fuck down.”

You looked at her, pouting and flopped down on the park bench nearby, staring at the ducks in the pond.

Taking that as compliance, the witch and the spy headed towards the nearest cafe.

You stared at the ducks, snickering when one said something ostentatious. Your amusement was interrupted when there was a loud meow, and a cat jumped onto the bench beside you.

You refused to look at it.

“I’m on a date.” You said dismissively. “Go away.”

Mrrrrow

You scoffed, “If you’re hungry, go hunt.”

Meowww

You turned to the cat with a raised eyebrow. 

“And just why are you eavesdropping on my date? I’m not asking Natasha to bring food for you. You’re a born hunter… so hunt.”

The cat walked closer, lying down and exposing its belly, looking at you with pleading eyes.

“Nice try, cat.” You said dryly. “That doesn’t work on me.”

The cat gently rested its paw on your thigh, making you clench your jaw.

“If you’re injured, go to a vet. The one you irritate when you’ve just fought Balthazaar.” You say impassively, gently lifting the paw and brushing it off your thigh.

Mrrraowww

You let out a scoff, “You take that back. I am not a good person. I don’t care if you’re injured or not. Just because you have a brain doesn't mean you get to give opinions on my life.”

The cat sat there staring at you, letting out a slight exhale through its nose.

You roll your eyes, finally turning to the cat. “Oh wow, look at that. I wasn’t aware you had a psych degree, cat.”

“There’s an old man handing out cat food on the other side of the pond. Go get it from him. I’m sure he will ignore your judgy attitude. After all, a name like dragos for a cat is-“

“Are you talking to that cat?” Came a voice behind you, making you jump.

You look at Natasha’s amused but confused expression as she held two cups of iced coffee.

You let out a tired sigh, “More like trying to get it to stop judging and begging me.”

Wanda looked at you in amazement, “You speak cat?”

You gave the witch a smug smile. “I speak everything… detka.”

Wanda gulped at your flawless accent.

Natasha smirked, “You know it turns her on when you speak Russian.”

You turn to her with a smug smile, “Ya znayu, chto kogda ya govoryu po-russki, eto tozhe vozbuzhdaet tebya, moya lyubov’.” (I know it turns you on as well, my love.)

You watched Natasha’s eyes widen before darkening significantly. Before anybody could comment further, you were interrupted by a loud sound.

Mrrroow

You snapped your eyes to the golden-eyed black cat with an annoyed expression.

“Will you stop complaining. The croissant isn’t for you. You know chocolate can kill you, right?”

Meww

“Oh, shut up. Yes, it can. You know what. Go ahead.” You say, reaching for the bag of food in Natasha’s hand.

The spy immediately yanked it out of reach.

“You are not giving the cat chocolate, Y/n”, Natasha admonished.

You roll your eyes, turning to the cat. “She said no.”

Wanda bends to the cat, eyes already full of love.

“Would you like some food, little one?” She asked gently.

Mew

The cat looked at her with large eyes, licking its paw.

Wanda smiled and poofed a bowl of cat food. The feline simply began inhaling the food.

“Aww, look at him, he’s adorable.” Wanda cooed.

In record time, the cat finished his food and jumped back onto the bench and your lap, settling down and purring.

You stiffened, “Get. Off. Me. Cat.” you growled, gritting your teeth.

Much to your girlfriend’s amusement, the purring intensified.

“Oh, we’re definitely taking him home,” Natasha said, giving the cat head scritches.

“No.” You said firmly, “No cats in my house.”

-

“Here’s your new home, you bastard.” You grumbled, dropping the cat onto the floor of your hall.

X—X—X—X—X

You were in the middle of talking to Ae when a screech made you jump. You sigh, massaging your temples.

“Bellona seems to have found your new pet,” Ae says, amused, her purple eyes twinkling.

“He’s not my pet. He’s Natasha and Wanda’s pet.” You grumbled.

The two of you walk to the commotion. Bellona is running after the cat. You let out a chuckle when Bellona copies the cat’s vault off the wall and follows him.

There’s a loud thud, a meow, a hiss. The Bellona comes grinning, holding the cat and covered in scratches.

“He’s adorable.” Bellona screeches, wiggling the cat in her hands.

The cat in question simply seemed stunned at the sheer athleticism of Bellona.

Mrrrrow

Bellona looked at you, “What did Liho say?”

You frowned, “His name isn’t L-“

Meowwww

Another sigh, “He said he’ll agree to the name Liho if you let him go right now.”

Bellona let go of Liho as though he were scalding hot. He glared at her and ran to you, jumping and climbing onto your shoulder, where he remained perched.

“Get. Off.” You growled.

Liho purred and curled his tail around your neck with a soft ‘Meww’

It was at that moment that Alaric entered the living room with Natasha on his shoulders.

“Good job.” Natasha said impassively, “Now put me down.”

Alaric grumbled wordlessly but put the spy down on the ground.

Bellona grinned at him, “Lost another bet?”

The boy scowled, “I’m telling you, she cheats.”

“How exactly does one cheat in Uno?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

His brow furrows as he looks at you, “More importantly.. is that a cat on your shoulder?”

Natasha walks to you, leaning in for a kiss. You eagerly reciprocate only for Natasha to move at the last moment and plant the kiss on Liho’s forehead.

You looked at her, flabbergasted.

“How- How dare y-“

“Mom, have you met Liho?” Bellona interrupted.

“Liho, huh?” Nat mused, scratching the cat’s head and smiling at the resulting purr. “I like it. Suits him.”

“Alright. That’s it.” You snap, slapping Natasha’s hand away.

“You.” You tell Liho, “Get off my shoulder or you’re going back on the street.”

Mrrow, Liho says innocently.

You frown, “I don’t give a rats ass if it gets cold. You’re crumpling my shirt, and you smell. Get off my shoulder.”

Liho gives your cheek a small lick and jumps off.

“Aww.” Bellona coos.

“Don’t aww him.” You warned, “He’s a manipulative asshole who’s weirdly addicted to catterpillars.”

“I’m sorry,” Alaric says out loud. “Are we just glossing over the fact that Y/n can speak ‘cat’?”

You raise an eyebrow at your son. “I can speak everything, Alaric. ‘Cat’ is simply the assholey French of animal syntax.”

“It’s still really cool, Y/n”, Wanda says from the couch behind you. 

Only Bellona jumps at the sudden voice.

“Jesus fuck,” Bellona said, clutching her chest. “Did you just.. appear?”

Wanda giggles, wiggling her fingers at her daughter.

While everyone finds a spot on the gigantic sofa, Natasha (sitting between the side of you and Wanda) flits through different movies you could watch.

“Oh, oh, Inside Out!” Alaric says, wiggling between Wanda and Bellona.

You chuckle, “I can’t wait to see Nat cry when Binbong dies.”

The collective groan from your family makes you look at them in confusion.

“You do this every time,” Alaric complains, using his magic to throw a pillow at you.

“Seriously, detka.” Wanda admonishes. “You can’t spoil movies just because you know how every movie ends.”

“Hey, at least I don’t gasp like you do, Alaric.” You defended.

“That’s true. Alaric gasps 62% more than anyone else. 23% more than the rest combined.” Ae notes, using her vibranium-adamantium body to push everybody and sit beside you at the end of the sofa.

Bellona snatches the remote from Natasha’s hand and skims through the choices until she selects ‘That time I got reincarnated as a slime’.

“Nice choice, B.” You said appreciatively.

The remote glows red before it flies into Wanda’s hand.

“We are not watching anime again.” The witch declares.

It takes her but a moment to choose. Nobody complains when The Dick Van Dyke show begins playing.

Popcorn, M&Ms, slushies and a disgustingly green smoothie are poofed into existence wordlessly.

Ae dims the lights and everyone watches, munching and sharing snacks.

There’s a slight meow heard, and Liho jumps onto your lap. Alaric snickers at the disgusted look you give the cat.

Despite the fact that you whispered, everyone heard.

“This is the first and last time I’m allowing this, cat.”

Nobody believed you.

X—X—X—X—X

If you enjoyed, please do comment and let me know! Also i'd love some suggestions on what else to write!

[blueteller]

Introducing Character Trope: STEBS (Stoic Traumatized Epic Bastard Softie)

I have tried to look this up on TV tropes, but it does not exist. Not officially, at least. So I decided – I'm introducing new trope. It already exist, someone might as well try and give it a name.

And yeah, this acronym SUCKS, feel free to come up with a better one! But let's talk about what a "STEBS" character is for me, because I've come to the conclusion that it is actually my favorite character type.

First, context. Ever since I've read TCF, I have come across other medias and I was often like, "Hey, this character is basically just like Cale!" – which I feel like, it isn't really fair? I mean, Cale is a great and complex character, but making this comparison constantly makes me feel like I'm undermining the complexity of OTHER characters. Just because Cale shares similarities with other characters doesn't make them copies of him.

So, what exactly is a STEBS?

1) Stoic

This character has a very specific way of acting in non-confrontational situations. It can be respectful, it can be casual, but it is neither extremely friendly nor extremely rude. It's in a calm, pleasant zone, where the character treats others like... well, people. The character doesn't make themselves superior nor inferior, it doesn't matter to them if the other is a beggar or a king. They just are, calm and casual. That's what makes them stoic - NOT lack of expressions or emotions, or lack of humor. It's the way they carry themselves on the regular. This character type makes others feel relaxed because of it, and subconsciously encourages trust and friendship (much to the character's confusion). They will also make a great educator because of it, and will likely act as a mentor or a teacher more than once.

2) Traumatized

Despite the stoicism in their behavior, they actually have a complicated background. Commonly an orphan, even though not always, this person has been through a LOT. But, they don't usually express it. Seeing this character cry or break down is EXTREMELY rare and always a very important scene in a story. It's not that they're not emotional or they always try to bury their trauma, although that does usually apply to them; they're just not vocal about it due to their personality. But oh boy, are they traumatized! Wait for that reveal later in the story though, when it actually becomes plot-relevant.

3) Epic

Despite the character being a stoic type, with a backstory that makes them crave very simple things – be it retirement, respect from their peers, a safe house to live in, a stable job, a family, a specific successful career – they are actually freaking epic where it comes to things they do. They either have great knowledge, memory, or skills in a particular field and they always manage to surprise others with just how competent they are. It can be literal combat skills, magic, being a life-saving surgeon, or even a therapist. But whenever they get their chance to shine, they become a real star.

4) Bastard

A trait that adds a surprising amount of charm and humor to their other traits. Being stoic makes them likeable, being traumatized makes them sympathetic, being epic makes them cool – but being a bastard? It actually just means they're mischievous and have a penchant for chaos. Because this character is meant to make changes in the narrative, like an accidental revolutionary or a transmigrator, they have to possess a cunning streak that might seem mean or selfish at first, but actually never crosses the line into making them despicable. It just makes them an occasional manipulator, but it's usually portrayed in a way that still makes it impossible to make you hate them. In fact, it makes you love them more for it. They are not naive, even if they can be oblivious or silly at times; being a bastard to those who deserve it means being able to get out of sticky situations that would be problematic for paragon heroes. It includes stuff like acting, pranks, cheating, manipulation, shady deals, gambling, stealing, and even criminal behavior, that is actually very understandable due to their specific circumstances.

5) Softie

And if all the previous traits haven't convinced you to love this character yet, the last one surely will. This character, despite having a mean streak, is in fact never mean to innocent people. Actually, they are surprising soft and/or sentimental, especially towards the helpless and children. This character will probably have at least one animal sidekick, at least one paragon protagonist type on their payroll, and most importantly an adopted child - if the previous two don't already fill that spot. This character will make excuses of course, they will claim that they are taking care of others for their own benefits. But you will see quickly that they don't treat others like a heartless manipulator, but more of an overprotective mother-hen. This character, no matter their gender, will eventually become the typical Mom Friend. They will make sure everybody eats well, sleeps well, they get their allowance, pack their lunch before heading out to participate in the plot and probably try to sacrifice themselves for them more than once. They will of course become the mentor figure on top of it, and possibly even be a straight up legal guardian and/or teacher to other important characters.

And this, my friends, is what I call a STEBS character. While it outlines a general, it's not a strict definition, mind you. Even if a character exhibit one trait less than the others (for example not being much of a bastard, or not being very stoic), it still counts as long as you still recognize them as fitting in this "category".

Characters in this category include:

Cale Henituse from Trash of the Count's Family

Obi-Wan Kenobi from Star Wars

Aizawa Shota from My Hero Academia

Kakashi from Naruto

Remus Lupin from Harry Potter

Faramir from Lord of the Rings

Kim Dokja from Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

Rimuru Tempest from That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime

Park Moondae from Debut or Die

Won Hwabu from I Reincarnated as a Legendary Surgeon

And many, many others.

Let me know if you have a better name for this very specific character type!

[max1461]

One thing that was hard for me to get used to when I started learning math was what I call "static thinking". Math doesn't have any time evolution; everything either is or it isn't.

When non-mathematicians think about operations like addition, they think of them as "processes" that "occur": you take 2 and 8 and "combine them" to get 10. The expression "2+8" is like a sort of command, telling you to perform this process of addition. People think of math this way because it's basically how math is presented in schools.

To a mathematician, the expression "2+8" is not a command and it does not signify a process. "2+8" is merely another way of writing "10". They are two expressions with identical meaning. That's what "2+8=10" means, it means "these two expressions signify the same thing". There is no "process of addition" which "happens" and "results in 10". "10" and "2+8" are just alternate spellings of the same number.

For a more advanced example, consider the formal definition of a finite state machine. Intuitively, we think of a finite state machine as a network with various nodes and directed edges and so on, into which we input some string in the machine's alphabet. After inputting the string, it travels around the machine according to the transition functions before finally arriving (or not) at a final node, and by this process a computation is performed. Of course, mathematically, this is nonsense. A finite state machine is a network with various nodes and directed edges and so on, but the notion that you can "input a string" and it will "travel around the network via the transition functions" is bullshit. A string is recognized by the machine if and only if there exists a valid path for that string via the transition functions from an initial node to a final node. The string never actually travels the path, because such a notion does not exist in mathematics.

A finite state machine is not a machine, it never actually does anything. It sits there in the realm of abstractions, unmoving and static. Every string which it "recognizes" it recognizes by dint not of things that it does but of facts that simply are; every string recognized by the machine is so and has been so since the dawn of time, without the machine ever in fact going about the process of recognizing it.

This is philosophically a little bit trippy, but it can also confuse early math students in practice, too. As I mentioned at the top, I was very confused by it. For instance, in the finite state machine example, a perfectly ordinary statement to encounter in a proof might run something like

[Block of reasoning establishing that some string w is recognized by the machine M] [Block of reasoning establishing that all transition functions into a final node F of M have label x] ...since w is recognized by the machine M, there must exist a transition function T whose target is a final node and which sends w to that final node on the last character of w. Thus, since T must have label x, the final character of w is x.

To a mathematician this seems perfectly trivial. To me as a young math student, this kind thing seemed almost miraculous. We don't even know what w is, and yet we can run it through the machine? And from the fact that the machine recognized it, we can conclude things about what w is? We can tell its final character? How is that possible? I felt like this kind of thing involved "reaching into the future", reasoning about processes from the end when we haven't even begun them yet.

But, of course, we can do this, because there is no past or future in mathematics. The machine is simple there, the string is simply recognized or not, its last character simply is x or it isn't x. Nothing has to "happen".

[snowyquokka]

Hey I saw that you wanted ideas for some angst, thought I would shoot my shot. What if one of or all of them idk you choose the boys calls reader clingy and reader gets insecure about it. It's okay if you don't feel like it tho. Take care of yourself and drink lot's of water❤️❤️ I'm new to your blog but I really love your work hope to see more of it in the future❤️❤️❤️

CLINGY

cw - non idol!minho x gn!reader, angst (😈), swearing, fluffy ending, hurt comfort kinda

wc- 1.1k

a.n - IT’S DONE !! i am exhausted but hey it’s out 😭😭 anyway i’m sorry for being a bit MIA lately, i’ve been having a bit of a rough time but it’s getting better. i’m not sure if i like this piece or not tho :((( I LOVE YOU MUAH <3

AND I JUST REALIZED THIS IS MY FIRST LINO FIC OMG THIS IS A MOMENT IN HISTORY

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

All day, the silence in the house seemed to echo with Minho's absence, each tick of the clock stretching the worry tighter across your mind. The morning had started off on the wrong foot, with Minho oversleeping- a rare occurrence which in turn threw off his whole routine. The rushed breakfast, the hasty goodbye—everything felt off-kilter. It was unlike him to be late, especially for his job at the veterinary clinic, a place he often described as his second home, where he could merge his passion for animals with his skills in care and healing. The hurried departure left a cold space in the wake of his frantic energy.

The argument from the night before added layers to your concern. It was one of those disagreements that seemed trivial in the light of day, yet in the shadow of the night, it had grown into a monumental barrier between you two. It wasn't just the words exchanged or the silence that followed, but the unresolved tension that lingered, making the air heavy with unsaid apologies and unexpressed affections. The fact that Minho had been irritable even before the argument didn't help, it only amplified the discomfort, casting a shadow over his usual bright demeanor.

As the day dragged on, you found yourself glancing at the clock, counting the hours until Minho's return. The thought of him dealing with the stress of work on top of everything else weighed heavily on you as guilt settled in. It wasn't just the worry for his mental state, but also the longing for reconciliation. You knew the importance of mending the rift, of clearing the air with conversations that bridged the gap between hurt and healing. The thought of him walking through the door, the opportunity to start anew, to offer a smile as a peace offering, became a beacon of hope in the slow march of the day. But as you continue to relive the argument you can’t help the pang of sorrow that strikes your heart like lighting, complimenting the storm of emotions whirling about your being. 

The dispute sparked when you casually asked him about his day. To you, it was a simple question, but Minho perceived it as intrusive, deeming you "too clingy" and expressing his exhaustion with what he viewed as your constant nagging.Since then you’ve been running yourself into the ground trying to get as much stuff around the house as you can. If Minho comes home to a clean house, you think, then there’ll be one less reason for him to be irritated with you. 

The sound of keys jingling faintly outside the door interrupts your thoughts. You had just finished cooking dinner and were plating it just in time as Minho to strolls in. 

“Mm,“ he hums in approval as he wraps his long arms around your waist, gently tugging your back to his front. He rests his chin on your shoulder as he speaks, “Smells good, baby. Thank you.” You hum and nod, not sure what to do. He was just complaining about you being clingy but here he is, swaying you side-to-side. Minho clearly sensed your apprehension and pulled back with a sigh. “Why am I getting the silent treatment?” 

You aren’t sure how to respond to that. You weren’t purposefully trying to ignore him, you’re just confused and you don’t know how to voice that. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment,” you turn around towards him and lean back against the kitchen island, using your hands to brace yourself.

Minho hums and folds his arms over his chest. He raises a brow, wanting you to continue. You huff and tip your head back for a moment before looking directly at him. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to come off too clingy.” Your tone came off a little harsher than you’d planned and you watch as his expression shifts into something more serious, guilty even.

“Shit, baby I- I didn’t mean it, you know that. I shouldn’t have said it and-” You shake your head, effectively cutting him off. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine. It’s just-” 

His eyes begin to soften as he inches back into your space. “Hey. Hey,” Minho murmurs as his hands find purchase on your shoulders in an attempt to provide at least some semblance of comfort. He’s always been the type to have some sort of contact when talking to you like this. It makes it feel more personal, more sincere, especially when he ends up apologizing. “Don’t do that, you know I hate it. I’m the one who should be sorry, okay? I’m sorry, I was just stressed and I know that isn’t an excuse.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you, I made you upset.” 

Minho shakes his head. “I want you to ask about my day, I want you to show that you care. It makes me feel important. You make me feel important.” You pull your lip in between your teeth, a nervous habit you picked up as a child. 

"Are you sure? Because I will-" Minho clicks his tongue and leans his forehead against yours, his brown eyes sparkling.

"I never want you to feel insecure about anything I say, regardless of what it is. I understand I can be hot-headed, and I'm working to fix that, but I want you- I need you- to tell me when I’m doing something that’s upsetting you. I love you and I promise you I didn’t mean any of it.” He presses a soft, chaste kiss on the tip of your nose with a smile. The action makes your stomach erupt with butterflies and you know everything will be okay. You’ll always bounce back and find your way back to each other. 

Minho looks down and locks his pinkys around yours before looking back up at you. “You okay now?” You nod and lean against him further with a content sigh. 

“I love you too, Min.” Minho begins to open his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. 

“Even if you’re a dick sometimes.” You say with amusement laced in your tone and a grin.

“I guess I’m lucky you put up with me then.” 

“Now you’re getting it,”

❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥❥

tags: @godslino @seungseung-minmin @myseungsunglove @azuna-sz @kaiyaba @solisyeah

[seokminfilm]

one for me, one for her | lee seokmin

pairing: lee seokmin x reader

warnings: non-idol au, fluff, kissing, physical touch, whining, mentions of dogs, seokmin is a big baby in this, seokmin calls reader baby, reader uses honey (once) & seokmin's nicknames, goofy shenanigans, someone put silly seokmin down (jk let this man live)

"Baby, you won't believe what I got!" Seokmin comes into the kitchen in a rush, breathless and cold as he strips himself of his coat and scarf. His sharp nose is reddened from the cold, and his eyes are glossy from the tears that must have come from the sharp wind. A bag dangles from his arms, and you stare at it, curious.

"Honey, what is it?" You ask, letting the vegetables simmer as you turn around to a quick kiss from Seokmin. Most of the kiss misses most of your lips and grazes your face instead, which you laugh at before Seokmin pulls your attention back to the mystery bag.

"I was at the store, right?" Seokmin starts the story quickly, and you go to the cutting board, chopping up even more vegetables as you reply with an attentive sound.

"I was looking for the ingredients you wanted me to get, I really was! I had the list out and everything─" Seokmin places one of the bags beside you on the countertop, and you pat his shoulder, giving him a silent thanks as he smiles.

"But I came across this section of frames, and since I was browsing for some new ones, got these!" Seokmin whips out the case to show off, revealing a clear-framed pair that perfectly fits his simple grey top.

"Oh, they're so cute! They're gonna look great on you, Seok." You smile, and Seokmin puts them on, giving you a model view as you giggle at his playfulness. "Very chic."

Seokmin giggles like a cute child, and you smile at him, face falling just a bit as he pulls out a matching pair. "Why do you have an extra pair? I don't need any glasses," You ask, confused, and Seokmin's smile grows wider, glancing around the room as he calls for your dog.

"Pippi! Pippi, come here, girl," Seokmin whistles for the dog, and you sigh, crossing your arms as you look at the matching case in his hand.

"Is that for Pippi?" You ask confusedly, and Seokmin stares at you like you had just said one plus two equaled five before replying with a dry, "Yes, duh."

Seokmin had his moments─sometimes he was a bit too serious about lighthearted things and therefore had to have you lighten the mood and reassure him that it wasn't the end of the world. Other times, though, he would do ridiculous things like this.

Ridiculous things like buying your tiny dachshund a pair of clear glasses, like it would wake up, and choose to wear them daily.

"Seokkie." You say seriously, and Seokmin bristles at your tone, pouting as his eyes go wide. "What? You don't think it's cute?"

You're at a loss for words for Seokmin's unbelievable and stupidly adorable actions, and you just shake your head, sighing as you give him a smile. "No, no. I think it's adorable. Go find Pippi, and let her try them on."

Seokmin's confused, slightly hurt expression changes into one of pure joy, and you can't help but melt at his happy countenance, breaking into an even wider smile as he sprints into the living room, obviously on the hunt for the dog. "Pippi, come here, baby!"

After about twenty minutes of silence on Seokmin's end, you finally finish preparing dinner and setting the table, to which Seokmin comes back with the dog in his arms. She looks uncomfortable with the glasses on the tip of her extended nose, and Seokmin frowns, looking at Pippi with sad eyes.

"I don't think she likes it, baby. Look at her face." Seokmin's voice is pouty, and you sigh, scratching Pippi's back as she stiffly moves her head toward you, trying not to knock off the frames.

"She does look cute though," You try to encourage Seokmin to smile, and he does, smiling softly as he bumps the dog up and down in his arms. "She does."

"Now, maybe we should let her go and eat dinner. We can try to wrestle them on her after, okay?" You pat his shoulder, and he relinquishes the dog to the ground, letting her leave the pretty frames on the ground as she shuffles away.

"I think she looks so cute though. Hopefully, we can get her to like them." Seokmin takes your hand in his, and you bring your hand to his cheek, rubbing it softly as you smile.

"We can try. Even if she doesn't like it, I'll wear them for you." You promise, and Seokmin kisses your lips softly, very happy as he nods.

"I like that idea, baby."

[coralinnii]

❋ You said what now? ❋

↳ He accidentally found out your feelings

feat: Ruggie ⭑ Chenya ⭑ Lilia ⭑ Epel

genre: fluff (uhh for the most part), humour,

note: no pronouns used with the reader, no explicit spoilers for book 7 in Lilia’s section, reader is referred as human in Lilia’s section, reader is implied to be a first year in Epel’s section, bad cat-related wording in Chenya’s section

Fun fact: while not obvious in the English translation, if you listen to Chenya’s Japanese voice lines, he likes to say “nya” at the end of his sentences.

Will I keep that fact in mind anytime Chenya pops up? Absolutely.

Also, I just started my college classes again last week (which is why I didn’t post last week). All of my classes are dense with text and quizzes so…I need to study real hard which will most likely eat up my time for writing. Good ol’ inconsistent me~

Although, I’m taking History and we focus a bit on the age of nobility and old kingdoms…so maybe some inspiration for my villain/ess!au series (or maybe not cuz history is weirder than one thinks…)

How it happened

Perhaps a little sneaky, Ruggie is someone reliable, resourceful, and fun to be around. You started to fall for him and even that sneaky side of his became endearing to you.

But bigger, financial priorities occupy the hyena beastman’s mind more than anything else. Unless he can make a madol from it or get a freebie, his interest in anything else is seemingly non-existent. It was rather easy to keep your feelings to yourself when the topic of love rarely, if ever, comes up.

So it came to a surprise to you when the shaggy-haired sophomore mentioned his coworkers at a part-time job he picked up in town.

He started ranting about how a duo at his workplace started an unlikely relationship a few days ago. According to him, the two were from two different worlds and didn’t appear to be either of their types.

“Doesn’t make any sense if you ask me” he mumbled, scratching his fluffy head by the sudden revelation at his job.

You nodded and hummed as he recounted his workday with you, but in all honesty, you didn’t share his confusion over the so-called sudden pairing. By the way Ruggie described the couple, it does sound like their personalities wouldn’t mesh well and would theoretically clash too much for anything to bloom between them.

But attraction follows no simple formula. No one can stop themselves from falling for someone. You yourself were an example.

“Love is never predictable, Ruggie.” you commented without thinking, perhaps too distracted by the cute love story of Ruggie’s coworkers or it could be that you’re drowning in the warm feelings from being so close to your crush that your mouth is running too comfortably on its own. “I mean, I never thought you were my type but I still ended up-“

You shut your mouth before you could finish but looking at the wide-eyed expression on Ruggie’s face, the effort was moot.

“You still ended up?”

…Shoot.

What happens now?

Colour him shocked. Ruggie never entertained the idea that you would like him, out of all people.

He could’ve pretended not to figure it out, or convince himself that it was a misunderstanding. But he knew when he saw your flustered embarrassment and your cute stuttering trying to come up with an excuse, there was no misunderstanding. You like him.

Ruggie has a good amount of ego and he wouldn’t downplay his boyish good looks (odds are it got him out of a few close calls), but in a school of celebrities, royalty, and guys with money coming out the wazoo? He knows when he’s outmatched.

To be honest, his brain froze for a moment at your slip up. He clutched his heart which stuttered out of beat, his ears and tail stood in attention like a meerkat. Jack was worried watching his upperclassman in such a daze while folding laundry, heck it even got Leona raising a brow over the uncharacteristic clocked out look on his shorter dormmate.

But, Ruggie is a workaholic hyena. Always planning his way to work up the ladder to earn some good madol. Even if he likes the idea of making a family of his own, romance wasn’t in his peripheral vision at the moment. Not while he’s working multiple jobs at once. He would honestly feel a little bad because he knows he’ll end up ignoring any poor soul stuck with him.

As bad as it is, he might at first think to pretend he heard nothing about your feelings. He couldn’t bring himself to make you go through that, to be in a relationship where work takes precedence over you.

But then he thought it wouldn’t be so bad…snuggling up to you during one of his rare free time. Maybe you’re the type to surprise him with lunch and he could rest on your lap while you brush his hair. Would you maybe rub his sore muscles after an arduous club training session? Having boyfriend privileges means no one can complain when he slides up to your side, keeping your attention to himself without having to share…

Screw it, he’ll figure something out. He’s a greedy hyena through and through

Shyeheehee! Better be ready for what you’re asking for. Once I’ve set my eyes on something, I’m not lettin’ it get away!

How it happened

This man is a literal magic trick, appearing and disappearing to revel in the shock of his unsuspecting audience. As elusive as he is, the times he does show up brings a shock of joy and excitement to you.

It seems that the purple-haired student has made it a habit to join the Heartslabyul’s unbirthday parties from time to time, enjoying the occasional chaos and keeping you company to your conflicted delight.

You didn’t know why but Chenya made it his mission to fluster you every chance he gets, with cheeky comments and sly touches as he leads you away from incoming mishaps such as a stray splash of paint or a flying slice of cake. You don’t know why but the cat-like menace has taken a shine to teasing you out of the blue. Sometimes he would suddenly whisper nonsensical riddles into your ear, or tap your shoulder to then poke your cheek as you turn. Small silly pranks that should annoy you but your body becomes filled with butterflies when he smiles that charming grin at you.

How maddening, you thought as you fell for another sneaky surprise from the impish beastman. Once again, Chenya appeared right behind you, smiling just over your shoulder which gave you and your friends a fright (for different reasons) to which he took pleasure in, judging from the mischievous grin on his lips.

Your shouting caught the attention of the other Heartslabyul students and recognizing the white jacket and castle emblem, their eyes boiled with competitive rage. An RSA student? On Night Raven territory?!

“Ah, looks like fun time is over. I’ll just show meowself out~” and like a mirage, Chenya’s figure disappeared as the NRC students failed to catch even a strand of his fur. Not even when he took a second longer to fade out just so he could teasingly tickle the tip of your nose with his fluffy striped tail.

The students kept on making a fuss, eager to teach the mischief maker a lesson for trespassing on rival territory. You sighed at the wasteful effort, assuming that Chenya would be smart enough to have left long ago.

“Why must my crush be such a frustrating person?” Angry hollers and Riddle’s commanding cease-and-desist orders overwhelmed your tired voice, and your soft words ended up softly carried off into the wind.

But your words caught the interest of a curious ear before it disappeared.

What happens now?

Curiouser and curiouser. He was not expecting such a confession. Though to be fair, he supposed you didn’t mean for anyone to hear it.

Chenya found joy being in your company. The shock in your bright eyes followed by your cute laugh sends a warm, giddy feeling in his heart that he just could not stop. He had a feeling he knew what these feelings could be but he was content with what he could get in the rare moments he can see you.

But now, when he realized what your cute reactions meant? That sends whole new exciting feelings within him. It’s fuzzy and warm as usual, but now also shocking and thrilling. The sneaky beastman is grinning for more than one reason now.

He won’t immediately confess back. Considering this wonderful predicament where you don’t know he knows of your affections, his playful nature compels him to milk the fun of this situation for all its worth.

If you thought his cheeky antics were bad enough, you haven’t seen his flirty side till now. Playful taps on the shoulders become sneaky grabs by the waist, and just when you think he’s gone, his signature grin would grace your vision as he fades into view, a little too close to your own face. Sometimes when he feels emboldened, Chenya would sweep you off your feet for a spontaneous walk along the sweet breeze.

When you’re finally at your wit’s end, when all his teasing and heart-fluttering gestures fills you to the point of combusting in flustered frustration, that’s when he’ll finally tell you his reciprocated feelings, perhaps while stealing a quick kiss when you least suspect it. All to see that terribly adorable look on your pretty face.

Every adventure requires a first step. I’m excited to see where we’ll go together from meow on~

How it happened

See, you thought he already knew. You swore he did. Why else would he tease you so much with his sweet compliments and flirty jokes? The mysterious senior spoke to you as though you were a naive child crushing on their older peer, which you supposed wasn’t entirely wrong.

The way he treated you with so much care and love that you wondered if he already suspected of your feelings and was being considerate to you. He listens to your rambles as though he has all the time in the world for you, compliments you on your achievements as though he’s genuinely proud of your hard work, and he jokes with you with that boyish charm of his. But the scarlet-eyed fae never pursued further with advances with you, which made you think that perhaps this was just who Lilia was, a strange but friendly man, unwilling to hurt your feelings. Were you grasping at straws and misconstruing his intentions?

With a heavy heart, you tried your best to give up your hopes but maintained a cordial bond with Lilia, not wanting to avoid the jovial fae so suddenly (well, without having to explain why anyways)

But one day, when you were walking with the smiling senior, he started talking about a souvenir shirt that Kalim had given him during their club meeting. It was a shirt patterned erratically with various colours and pictures of tiny bats littered about. It was an eccentric visual of fabric but it strangely fits the equally eccentric man.

“What are your thoughts? Would I not look absolutely adorable in this?” Lilia asked, holding the shirt in front in his uniform with a boyish smile, his fangs peeking out slightly. But you rolled your eyes as you sighed exasperated by this man’s antics.

“Don’t you think that’s unfair for you to ask me?” You looked at him with a pout, somewhat irritated at the mature fae you’re trying to get over. “Of course I’d said you would, considering how much I like you”

For a rare moment, Lilia turned wide-eyed at your words. “Pardon? Do you by chance… harbour feelings for me?”

Turns out, he didn’t know at all

What happens now?

Guess you can still surprise this old man. He had his suspicions but for all he knew that was how the youth were these days. He was fond of your shy expressions whenever he was around and he could hear the quickening of your heartbeat, but he didn’t want to assume. Perhaps you were just more on the skittish side.

In the centuries he lived, he saw love in many forms. In the recent centuries he lived, he got to experience some of those forms of love he’s seen, with the pain and joy that comes with it. To him, it couldn’t ask for more as he lives out the last few centuries he has left.

You however, were still vibrant like a freshly bloomed flower in its prime. Was that why he just couldn’t take his eyes off you? He couldn’t help but watch in admiration as you lived with almost enviable vigour. He felt pulled, entranced to be by your side for even just a moment, just to see that beautiful gleam of life (and love, he realized) in your eyes.

But Lilia felt a beat of guilt in his heart. Your life is so short in comparison to his own. You should be sharing your youth with someone as brilliant as yourself, not pining over an old soul like himself. Humans are fickle creatures but he supposed with such short lives, it’s best to be curious and experience all one can without regrets.

He would be honest with you, sharing his thoughts with you as though warning that your affections were better spent with someone that suited you better. It would be up to you to convince the stubborn fae that he was your choice, that you already decided he suited you just fine. All you’re asking from him is if he shared the same feelings as you did.

“I may have tried to get rid of my feelings before, but I’m choosing not to run away this time,” in your eyes, Lilia sees that same vibrant gleam that mesmerized him, almost breathing a new sense of life into him. “All I ask is if you feel the same way”

And he does. He’s lying to himself if he hasn't thought of a life with you where he could steal surprise kisses throughout the day, where he could bring you to soar through the night skies as he takes you to explore the world with him. He imagines a life of silliness but also a life of blissful content as he gazes at you like a beacon of light in his life, a new reason to live a bit longer.

Lilia feels ensnared by love once more, but the burning warmth in his soul is just too invigorating. He’s looking forward to this new chapter in his life, with you.

I do hope you’ve prepared yourself, my dear. Eternal love with a fae should not be taken lightly. But rest assured, I look forward to our new adventure

How it happened

You were Epel’s close friend and confidant, someone who he can share his achievements and woes with. Being so new to the college, the two of you depend on each other through thick or thin and along the way, you grew to see the lavender-haired freshman as more than just a companion.

He has a bit of a temper and is quick to the jump at times, but he was always there for you and even though he doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with them at times, he respects his seniors and takes their lessons to heart.

When he talks about how much he dislikes his height or his feminine features, you nodded along for his sake but you couldn’t tell him that you were actually in disagreement. You adore his fluffy locks that you occasionally got to touch with his permission and his light blue eyes felt like calming waves of the purest lake. Epel constantly swore to you that he’ll have his growth spurt and will even tower Leona in height, but you like how you could hold him close to you without issue.

You love all that he is, even if he’s not too keen on some parts himself

But you kept this all to yourself. You thought Epel had other priorities on his mind and you were scared that confessing would ruin the friendship you’d built with him. For now, you were content to be by his side for however long you can.

You were dead tired during a particularly harsh Flying class with Coach Vargas and you were barely conscious enough to keep your eyes open. It took everything you had to just nod along to whatever Epel was saying, something about some Savanaclaw students?

“Who they think they are, callin’ me cute like that? I outta rip off their yapper for underestimatin’ me.” You weren’t helping his point when you thought how cute his accent was as he grumbled about his day. You were falling in and out of consciousness but thought you should at least reply back to your friend…anything at all…

“I’m sorry…that happened…even though…I think…you’re really cute…”

You were already out cold to notice your friend frozen in place as you finished your drowsy comment, your head landing on his stiff shoulders.

What happens now?

ALDFIUAHLBWAIGLH

Congratulations, you broke your friend and you don’t even remember it. When you woke up, you couldn’t figure out why Epel was as bright red as his hometown’s apples. Epel couldn’t even bring it up without getting too tongue-tied, his accent sputtering out incomprehensible words.

The blue-eyed freshman was raking his brain for an explanation. You thought he was cute…really cute to be precise, but what does that mean? Did you like him? As in like-like him? Is it normal for non-countryside folk to just say something like that? But most students around here tend to mean it like an insult but you weren’t like them, you would never do that to him. So what did you mean by it??

Left without a choice, Epel thought about who he could ask about this, maybe one of his seniors. But he immediately reconsidered when he realized who his seniors were (Vil and Rook will never let this go and there’s no way Leona would entertain this conversation) and turned to the only adult he can trust, his meemaw.

In his letter, he asked his grandma what it means when someone you cherish calls you cute (not mentioning who) and after a few days of fidgeting and awkward encounters with very confused you, he finally got an answer from her.

“STOP SITTIN’ ON YOUR KEISTER TWIDDLIN’ ‘ER THUMBS! GO AND ASK, DAGNABBIT!”

And that’s how you were confronted by a flustered Epel about your cute comment one random school day. To be fair, you probably didn’t fare any better when you realized you let your thoughts slip out.

You may have confessed your attraction to him but Epel can still be the first to make the first move. Relationships and dating are all new to the petite freshman and honestly he felt a little weak in the knees, all the nerves wracking his body like his first broom ride. But the past few days, he couldn’t stop thinking about being with you, sweeping you off your feet, impressing you the only way he can, to have your eyes solely on him like he does when you’re around. Heck, he thought what it’d be like to grow old with you, holding you like no one else can as you spend day and night by each other’s side. All these thoughts and more is what spur him to take the next step.

I ain’t too great on love and romance, but I’ll work hard to show ya how much ya mean to me. I promise that!

[themarbledstudy]

See You Around [It's Not Fair Series]

📃Masterlist || WC: 3457

📚 Spencer Reid x Hotchner!Reader

📚 Warnings: Very slow burn. Like, EduRoam wifi slow.

📚 Context: Part II of a Series. Hotchner!Reader is 10 years younger than Spencer. Non canon events and family trees (Y/N is Hotch's only child and Hailey passes away before season 5).

📚 Author's Note: So this story is basically a bridge between the last fic, “It’s Not Fair,” and the third one I’m working on now. It connects the two and starts to build the vibe between them. Like I said, slow burn. The real action kicks off in the next part, so stay tuned! I’m hoping to have it up later tonight or tomorrow!

📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖

Nearly 3 weeks. Three weeks since that… well, unprecedented moment at the BAU office. Three weeks since you’d raised your voice—loud enough to make everyone freeze—at Hotch. And three weeks since Spencer had left you hanging, his words still lingering in the air. But you didn’t have time to dwell on that.

The past few weeks had been a blur of work, school, and medical scribing at the hospital. You were barely keeping your head above water with the constant flow of readings and case prep. Tired didn’t even begin to cover it.

It was the week of Thanksgiving now. D.C. was that perfect autumn beauty—crisp air, golden and crimson leaves scattered along the sidewalks, the faint smell of pumpkin-spice everything in the air. Soon enough, snow would sweep in and take over, but for now, you could still enjoy the last of the fall foliage before the winter chill arrived.

Your father had just returned from a case in New York City, Manhattan specifically. It was another long one for him and his team, and you knew he'd need some time to unwind before diving back into the whirlwind that was his job. So when you heard the door open, you felt a sense of relief. In the back of your mind, you knew that with every case, there was a chance he wouldn’t come home. That scared you.

You heard his footsteps down the hall before you saw him, and when he entered the kitchen, you couldn’t help but smile. Despite the exhaustion in his eyes, his usual warmth was there.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted you, setting down his bag and dropping his jacket over the back of a chair.

“Hey, Dad,” you replied, putting down the stack of papers you were working on and giving him a quick hug.

Then, just as you were pulling back, he handed you something. A plain blue sweater.

You blinked, a little confused. "Uh... thanks?" You took the sweater from him, holding it up to inspect it. It was simple—a soft, thick-knit sweater, a shade of blue that reminded you of the fall sky. There was nothing special about it, really. And yet, the way he was looking at you made it clear he expected something more than a polite "thanks."

"It’s for you," he said, still watching you with that hopeful expression. "I thought you might like it.“

You couldn't help but grin at how awkward he sounded.

He winced at the reminder. “I was just... I was worried. You know how it is. I—I didn’t know how to react. And I was wrong.”

You sighed, shaking your head, remembering how things had escalated that night. The argument had been completely out of character for the two of you. It had come out of nowhere and caught you both off guard, but you hadn’t held onto it for long.

It was your dad. You’d never really fought with him before. He had always been your rock. And for him to be so visibly rattled? It had taken you both by surprise.

“You were a little... overprotective,” you admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “But it’s fine. We’re good now. You don’t need to buy me a sweater to apologize.”

He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know. But I wanted to do something.”

You looked at the sweater again, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “It’s cute,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah? Maybe you could wear it next Halloween?” he joked, his voice cracking into something almost playful.

You laughed, shaking your head at his attempt at humor.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly uncertain whether you were kidding or not. “Too soon?” he asked, his lips quirking up in that small, rare smile you only got to see at home.

INT. GEORGETOWN UNIVERSITY LIBRARY – THANKSGIVING MORNING

It’s early. The kind of quiet that settles into the bones of buildings this old. You tug your scarf tighter as you text your dad back — something about pie or no pie — while the library’s automatic doors open with a soft whoosh.

Your boots tap softly against the tile, your bag slung crossbody, your mind already halfway home.

And then—

Wham.

You bounce off something solid. Or rather—someone.

Your phone wobbles in your hand as you stumble back, caught instantly by a hand on your elbow. You blink. Adjust your crooked glasses.

Spencer.

He smells like old books and cinnamon gum. His hand is warm on your coat sleeve.

“Y/N,” he says, too casually. Like you didn’t spend the last three weeks replaying every moment of Halloween like a psycho.

Your heart’s racing. Your brain’s screaming. And still, you manage: “What are you doing here?”

He raises an eyebrow, a corner of his mouth twitching. “It’s a library. I like libraries.” He drops your arm like he didn’t just turn your bones to noodles.

You clear your throat, suddenly very aware of your blue sweater clinging to your coat and your bag cutting into your collarbone.

“Well, I was studying. Because I’m in an eternal state of finals.”

Reid tilts his head slightly. He’s looking at you like you’re an organism under a microscope. His gaze flicks to the side of your face, like he’s maybe noticing your lip gloss or the way your hair’s tucked behind one ear.

“Right,” he says finally. “Still keeping the top GPA. Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

You can feel heat crawl up your neck. “I mean, someone’s gotta carry the academic torch in this family.”

“Better you than your dad.”

You laugh, surprised. “Hey, don’t mock SSA Hotchner on Thanksgiving morning.”

You shift your weight. You’re smiling now, in spite of yourself.

“Plans?” you ask, biting the inside of your cheek before the word’s even finished escaping. “For today?”

He shrugs, hands in the pockets of his coat. “Yeah. I’m headed to a friend’s.”

“Sounds wholesome,” you murmur. “I’m going to help decorate cookies. Apparently, it's a tradition now. I think it started because I had a breakdown over a sugar cookie when I was twelve.”

Reid chuckles.

“I’m thorough.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You freeze for a second, your heart skipping. Is he flirting? Was that flirting? Why is he looking at you like he knows things?

There’s a pause.

A silence filled with all the things you���re too afraid to say. Like Why did you disappear after Halloween? Why are you acting like nothing happened? Why do you have to look so good in cold-weather layers and make my brain short-circuit?

Instead, you nod. “Well. I should go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees easily. Like it’s nothing. “Wouldn’t want to miss the cookie breakdown reenactment.”

You open your mouth, ready with a witty comeback—except nothing comes out. You flounder.

“I’ll see you around,” he adds smoothly, stepping aside.

That’s it? That’s all he’s gonna say?

You blink. “Seriously?” It slips out.

He turns back, arching a brow. “Sorry?”

You immediately panic. “No! Nothing. I’ll see you around too. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he echoes, lips twitching. He’s enjoying this.

You spin and make your exit, too fast, your boots clicking against the floor as you mutter under your breath:

“I hate conversations.”

Behind you, Spencer walks away, that small smirk tugging again at his lips.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

INT. HOTCHNER HOME – THANKSGIVING MORNING

Music played softly in the background—a strange but fitting mix of The Beatles, Haydn, and Norah Jones. The air smelled of roasted vegetables, butter, and sugar. The kitchen was warm, the lights golden. You were elbow-deep in cookie crumbs, swiping icing off the table with a damp cloth while your father rinsed mixing bowls in the sink.

It was comfortable. Familiar. Calm.

“Wait, Y/N,” your dad said as you set down two place settings on the kitchen table, “bring those and an extra set to the dining room.”

You turned, brows furrowing. “The dining room?”

He was already pulling out the good glasses—the ones that only came out for people who weren’t blood relatives.

“Oh,” you said slowly. “Is someone special coming over?”

Hotch shook his head, drying his hands. “No. I invited a colleague from work. Figured they’d be alone on Thanksgiving.”

You smiled a little. Of course he did. That was him—always thoughtful, always extending a hand where others might not bother.

“That’s really nice.”

The two of you slipped back into the rhythm—tidying up, sneaking cookies when you thought the other wasn’t looking. The hockey game played in the background, white noise over the clinking of plates and rustle of napkins.

“Are you eating the cookies?” your dad asked without turning around.

“No,” you said, far too quickly, a crumb falling form your mouth. “Are you?”

Before he could respond, the doorbell rang.

You followed him toward the front door, teasing back and forth until...

He opened it.

Your entire body locked.

Standing there, scarf looped neatly around his neck, bakery basket in hand, eyes warm and amused, was Spencer.

Your breath stuttered. Spencer.

Liar. The same Spencer who had said he’d be spending Thanksgiving at a “friend’s.”

Apparently, your dad was the friend.

“Spencer,” your father greeted easily, as if this was a completely normal interaction. “Glad you could come.”

You just stared.

Everything in your brain short-circuited.

Spencer gave that polite little smile, the one he wore like a second skin, and handed the basket over. “Thanks for having me, Hotch.”

Your dad grinned. “Aw, you didn’t have to. But thank you. One of us has been eating the cookies while I wasn’t looking.”

You blinked at him.

Then at Spencer.

Then back at your dad.

And nothing came out.

Hotch’s smile faltered slightly. “Y/N?”

Still nothing. You stood there like someone had unplugged your soul.

They were both looking at you now—Hotch with a slowly growing dad-concern expression, Spencer with the tiniest smirk that said, Oh, she’s panicking.

“Y/N?” your dad repeated, his tone light but clearly edging into do I need to check your temperature?

You snapped out of it so fast it was almost cartoonish. “What? Hi. Spencer. I—cookies. Right. Good. Yep.”

Spencer’s brow arched slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. He said nothing, but you knew that look. He was enjoying this.

You glared at him for exactly one second before remembering your dad was still standing there and tried to recover, fast. “Sorry. I just—uh. I was expecting Uncle Dave.”

Hotch gave a small laugh. “Well Uncle Dave’s visiting an old friend in Nantucket. Besides, Reid’s basically family.”

Your mouth opened to reply but no sound came out.

You regretted it instantly.

“Okay,” your father said slowly, clearly trying not to laugh. “Dinner’s ready.”

He turned back toward the kitchen.

You moved to follow, but Spencer stayed beside you just long enough to lean in slightly and murmur, too quietly for Hotch to hear: “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Your breath caught.

You didn’t look at him as you whispered back, “You said you were going to a friend’s.”

He grinned. “I am.”

You looked at him, shaking your head in disapproval. “I should’ve known.” You paused. “You don’t have any friends.”

“What- hey,” he exclaimed silently in fake anonyance.

And then he walked past you, like he hadn’t just flipped your whole sense of reality upside down.

You stood there in the entryway for a second longer, silently screaming into the void, feeling like an intruder in your own house.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dining room was too warm.

Or maybe it was just you.

Now? Spencer was sitting across from you with zero shame and a glint in his eye that said he remembered everything.

Hotch was plating turkey like nothing was wrong.

“Spencer,” he said, “dark or white meat?”

“Dark,” Spencer replied smoothly, folding his napkin across his lap. “Much more tender.”

Your fork paused mid-air.

You blinked at your plate, pretending the gravy was more interesting than the look Spencer gave you—a slow, steady glance like he was watching something unravel.

Hotch nodded, oblivious. “Yeah, dark’s richer.”

“Mmm,” Spencer murmured. “More rewarding when you take your time with it.”

Your fork hit the plate. Hard.

You quickly scooped up mashed potatoes like your life depended on starch.

Spencer tore a roll in half. Gently. Slowly. Too slowly.

“You know,” he added, “Y/N and I ran into each other at the library this morning.”

“Oh yeah?” Hotch asked. “Why didn’t you mention anything, Y/N?”

“We spoke very briefly,” you said quickly. “Not a very interesting conversation. Something about a new bill being passed.”

Spencer smirked. “Really? I thought it was pretty… stimulating.”

You coughed. Choked on nothing.

Hotch looked up. “You okay?”

“Totally,” you rasped. “Just breathing wrong.”

“She’s been doing that a lot lately,” Hotch said jokingly as he sliced into his turkey.

You glared at him.

“Oh,” Spencer started. “Shallow breaths. That kind of thing? Sounds like you’ve got some tension in your shoulders. You stressed about something?”

You didn’t blink. “Yeah, school.”

Hotch chuckled. “That’s just how she is. High-strung.”

Spencer hummed in agreement. “She definitely has pressure points.”

You kicked him under the table.

He didn’t react. Just calmly sipped from his wine.

“So Halloween,” your dad said casually. “Y/N got a little heated, huh?”

You froze. “Can we talk about something els-”

“She did,” Spencer cut in, voice silky.

Hotch chuckled again. “I just wanted her to be safe,” he said matter-of-factly, justifying the argument they had at his workplace.

“I made sure of that when I drove her,” Spencer said smoothly. “Personally.”

You clenched your jaw.

“I hope it didn’t make things too difficulty for you,” Hotch added as if you weren’t sitting near him.

“She was determined to do things her way.” Spence filled in, not seeing the way your entire face was burning.

Your foot slammed into his shin.

Nothing. Not even a flinch.

“She’s stubborn,” Hotch said, chewing happily. “You gotta give her space to let it out.”

Spencer glanced at you. “I guess she let it out. I mean, she’s here now, less angry, I suppose.”

You choked again. Your wine glass trembled.

Hotch raised a brow. “You alright?”

“Turkey’s dry,” you muttered.

“It’s literally drowning in gravy,” your dad replied.

Spencer smiled behind his glass. “Maybe she’s just still feeling a little bottled up.”

You kicked him again. Missed.

Your heel crashed into the table leg. Violent.

You flinched. The wine sloshed. Fork clanged.

Hotch looked at you like you’d just thrown a plate. “What the hell was that?”

“Cramp,” you wheezed. “I ran this morning before the library.”

Spencer leaned slightly forward. “Should’ve stretched first.”

You narrowed your eyes. Then—calmly—slid your foot forward. Found his calf.

Pressed.

He didn’t move. But his eyes flicked up, locked with yours. Dangerous. Delighted.

Your breath caught.

He wasn’t smirking now.

“Anyway,” he said suddenly, shifting back to calm, “it was a good Halloween. Quiet.”

“Not quiet,” you snapped. “You talked the whole time.”

Hotch glanced up, puzzled. “I didn’t know you stayed a little, Reid. What exactly did you two do?”

Spencer didn’t miss a beat. “Personally, I wanted to make sure that she wasn’t going to sneak out. So we talked about her feelings.”

Your dad nodded like he was hearing a therapy summary and not the foreplay from your literal downfall.

“She’s always had a lot of feelings,” Hotch said. “Used to scream into pillows as a kid.”

“Well, it looks like she still does,” Spencer said, sipping his wine. “I guess that’s how you’re able to keep your emotions in check,” he said looking at you.

You leaned forward, finally done playing passive.

You kicked him again.

Successfully this time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once dinner was over, your father stood, stacking his plate on top of yours.

“I hope you like dessert, Reid,” he said, already heading toward the kitchen. “I picked up a Boston Cream Pie earlier, and there might still be a few cookies if someone didn’t sneak all of them.”

Your father shot you a look, and you responded with your most innocent face.

The second he disappeared into the kitchen, Spencer leaned in just slightly, his voice a low murmur that curled down your spine.

“Oh,” he whispered, lips barely parted in a grin, “I really like dessert. Especially when it’s warm... messy... something you can really get your mouth around.”

Your head whipped toward him so fast your chair creaked.

Your eyes said it all: Did you seriously just say that?

He gave you the most subtle shrug. Innocent. Deadpan. Like he was the normal one and you were the one reading into it.

You nearly choked on your own spit.

From the kitchen, Hotch called out, “You want whipped cream or no?”

Spencer smiled without breaking eye contact. “I’m not picky.”

You dug your nails into the underside of the table.

Dinner was over, and the house had settled into that post-meal quiet—warm and still, the kind that only came when the dishes were half-washed and the candles had burned low. The kitchen light glowed softly down the hallway. Somewhere in the living room, the TV murmured on with a low sports commentary no one was really listening to. The scent of roasted thyme and something sweet still lingered in the air, mixing with the faint warmth of cinnamon from the cookies earlier.

You moved to your feet, your chair legs dragging lightly against the hardwood. The clink of plates echoed faintly as your dad stood, stretching, already headed toward the kitchen.

“Thanks again for having me over,” Spencer said politely, turning to Hotch.

Your father gave him a firm nod. “Anytime, Reid. You’re always welcome.”

Spencer’s voice was smooth, the picture of gratitude. But his posture, his pace—everything about him felt too casual. Like he was stalling. Like he knew he had one more play to make.

And you weren’t about to let him get the upper hand again.

You were already at the door, fingers grazing the knob, ready to show him out before your dad returned with dessert and things got

even weirder.

“Yup,” you said brightly, too brightly. “See you around, Spence.”

The hallway was warm from the oven’s earlier heat, lit only by the sconces and the faint yellow of the lamp by the stairs. Shadows danced softly on the floor as you opened the front door, letting in a gust of cold November air that immediately made your arms goosebump.

Still, Spencer didn’t move. His fingers reached for his coat on the hallway rack, brushing lightly past your own jacket. He shook it out slowly, then slid it on with unhurried precision. One button. Two.

You crossed your arms, shifting your weight against the hallway table. The hardwood creaked slightly beneath your heel.

“You’re in a hurry,” he said at last, not looking at you.

You stiffened. “Just a long day.”

He glanced sideways, eyes flicking to the small bag tucked behind the bench near the door. Barely visible. But not invisible enough.

“Your purse is in the corner,” he murmured. “You’re dressed in layers. Fresh lip gloss. Shoes by the door aren’t the ones you had on earlier.”

He looked at you properly now, and the air in the hallway changed. Tightened.

“You’re going somewhere,” he said.

You swallowed, jaw tight. “I don’t see how that’s your business.”

He tilted his head, amused. “I didn’t say it was. Just noticing.”

His voice was calm, but the look in his eyes was anything.

“Is someone picking you up?” he asked softly. “Or are you meeting them?”

You didn’t answer.

“A guy?” he continued, like he hadn’t just tossed a live wire onto the floor. “Someone I should be worried about?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. “Oh my God, Spencer—”

But he cut in, voice low and deceptively kind. “I’m just curious who gets the honor of seeing you tonight.”

There was nothing sweet about the way he said it. You bristled, cheeks warming, but before you could speak, he leaned in just a breath closer, voice dropping like silk.

“Or more importantly,” he murmured, “who doesn’t.”

You blinked, stunned silent.

“I’m not judging,” he murmured. “It’s just interesting.”

Your gaze snapped back to him.

“What is?” you asked, irritated.

He tilted his head slightly. “Seeing you try on someone else’s rhythm. Pretending like you’re into it.”

Your stomach twisted. He moved toward the door, finally, letting the night air in fully as he stepped onto the porch. But before crossing the threshold, he paused and looked back over his shoulder.

“Oh, and Y/N?”

You didn’t say anything. Just stared.

“Be good tonight.”

And with that, the door shut behind him—leaving you in the warm house, surrounded by the scent of cookies, cinnamon, and roasted turkey...

Still burning.

Still breathless.

Still not even close to done.

[ichigo-plasma]

Let Me Us Help You

Milgram ❤︎ Haruka Sakurai x Reader x Mikoto Kayano

Synopsis: Haruka has had a crush on you ever since he met you in Milgram but he never had an example of a healthy relationship growing up so he isn’t sure how to confess. He gets the help of one of the few adults he trusts, Mikoto. But after watching Haruka stumble over his words humiliating himself while he confessed to you, Orekoto/John decides the blue hair boy needs a push.~

On the menu: yandere, smut, multiple personalities (John referred to as Orekoto but I might change that), non-con~❤︎, one swear word (Orekoto is angyyy), kinda-poly if you squint (but Orekoto and Haruka don’t get each other off…), uhhhh manhandling, double penetration?, just yummy smut~~~, Orekoto is freaky af (but it’s hot so he is forgiven), Haruka lied about his age, he is actually an adult, uhh Orekoto is also toxic and rude, reader is referred to with fem pronouns

Guide: Smut only starts after the pink hearts ❤︎❤︎❤︎ you can stop there to skip smut.

A/N: I added a BONUS next day AFTERMATH! Where Mikoto comes back and doesn’t remember anything his other personality did!

Amongst the prisoners in Milgram, you were different. You were the first to notice Haruka. First to talk to him. Asked him simple things—Did you eat today? Do you need help with that?—things no one else bothered to ask.

The attention was addicting.

The way your voice softened when you spoke to him. The way you didn’t laugh when he fumbled with tying his shoes or struggled with writing his name. The way you always waited for him. The way you forgave his crimes, seeing his regret…

You weren’t just nice.

You were perfect.

Soon, Haruka found himself watching you more than he should. Memorizing your schedule around the prison. Finding excuses to be near you. Walking the same prison hallways you did, sitting at tables where he knew you’d pass by. Even when you weren’t looking, he was always there—lurking in the background, watching from the corner of his eye, his heart skipping a beat whenever you smiled.

You were perfect for him. Even if you thought your we’re doing nothing more than showing simple kindness due to the scary circumstances in Milgram, he saw it as way more.

He needed to make you his but he had no idea how to confess. He never saw his parents get along well in a loving relationship so he had no example of how it worked. So he went to one of the adults in Milgram he thought might know how to help.

“Just t-tell her…?” Haruka’s face burned as he fidgeted with the hem of his oversized prison uniform sleeves, avoiding Mikoto’s amused gaze.

The older guy leaned against the wall of the prison common area, arms crossed, watching Haruka with a smile. “Yeah, Haru-kun. You like her, don’t you? Then tell her.”

Haruka squirmed. “B-But what if she s-says no?”

Mikoto chuckled. “Then you have to accept that. I’m sure you two can still be friends!”

Haruka paled like the idea was unthinkable. “B-But I—”

Mikoto sighed, ruffling Haruka’s hair like an older brother. “Listen, Haru-kun. Confessing isn’t about making her say yes. It’s about being honest. If she doesn’t feel the same, then that’s how it is.”

Haruka bit his lip, eyes darting away. That’s NOT an option. You had to feel the same. You had to.

Still, he nodded, pretending to take Mikoto’s advice to heart. “O-Okay… I’ll try it.”

Mikoto grinned. “Atta boy.”

It was supposed to be romantic…

Haruka had practiced in front of his rabbit plush a hundred times in his cell—how he’d stand tall, how he’d look you in the eyes, how he’d say your name in a deep, confident voice.

None of that happened.

Instead, he was a stuttering, shaky mess.

“I-I—I w-wanted to s-say—”

You blinked at him, tilting your head in confusion. “Haruka? Are you okay?”

Oh god. You looked worried. Not flustered. Not excited. Worried.

Haruka’s breath hitched. This wasn’t going right. This wasn’t going right at all.

From around the corner, Mikoto crouched and watched, his expression twitching with secondhand embarrassment. “Oh, my—!” His fingers scratching through his scalp in stress. “Haru-kun, you’re killing me here…”

Suddenly a flicker of something dark passed over Mikoto’s face.

Then he stilled and closed his eyes.

When his eyes opened again, they weren’t the same, the previous gleam lower in his pupil.

A smirk curled at his lips, his posture shifting into something far more domineering. “Tch. You really can’t do anything right, huh, Haru-kun? That’s ok, I’ll help you out.”

This wasn’t going to be just Mikoto helping anymore.

Before you could process what was happening, a strong arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you flush against a broad chest. The scent of Mikoto’s usual cologne was still there—but something in his demeanor was off.

It was oddly aggressive compared to the Mikoto you’d known. And it was terrifyingly forceful.

Your breath hitched. “Mikoto—?”

“Tch-” Orekoto mouthed in annoyance. His arm around you tightened, his smirk widening as he turned to Haruka, who was staring in shock and embarrassment. “You were taking too long, so I decided to help out Haru-kun.”

Haruka’s lips trembled. “B-But—”

Orekoto rolled his eyes. “What? You wanted her, didn’t you?” His fingers trailed along your shoulder, making you shiver. “Then take her.”

You tensed, trying to figure out if this was some prank the two men were playing on you. “W-Wait—”

Orekoto ignored you, his grip on your wrist tightening as he started walking. “Come on. We need somewhere private for you two, come one Haru-kun.”

Haruka hesitated for half a second before following, his heart hammering in his chest. His confession hadn’t gone the way he planned.

But maybe… maybe this was better. He couldn’t help the shy grin he had as he followed behind Orekoto and your smaller body being pulled along.

❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎

With a sudden, forceful motion, Orekoto grabbed your wrist and dragged you towards Haruka’s prison cell. He threw open the door and shoved you inside, causing you to stumble and fall backwards onto the narrow prison mattress.

"Mikoto, what are you- ah!" Your protest turned into a gasp as he crawled over you, pinning your wrists above your head. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours with a hunger that made your heart race.

"Be quiet!" he said, his voice a low, dominant growl. One of his hands released your wrist to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Right now, I'm going to help Haruka claim what's his. I'm going to teach that fucking virgin exactly how to make a girl feel good."

Haruka stood nervously at the foot of the mattress, his cheeks flushed a deep, mortified red as he watched Orekoto manhandle you. His hands fidgeted and twisted on hem of his uniform, unsure of what to do with himself.

"M-Mikoto, is this okay?" Haruka asked, his voice small and hesitant. "Aren't you being a little too rough with Y/N?"

Orekoto shot Haruka an exasperated glare over his shoulder. "Rough?! Haruka! Do you want her or not?!?! Earlier you were a blabbering mess and she couldn’t take you seriously. You need to assert yourself, show her that she belongs to you."

Turning his attention back to you, Orekoto gripped the bottom of your top and yanked it up and off in one swift motion, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the Milgram prison cell. His calloused hands skimmed over your flesh, leaving tingles in their wake.

"First things first," he purred, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples. "Get her worked up. Touch her like she's the only thing that matters. Like she's your whole world."

Haruka took a small step closer to the mattress, his eyes wide and uncertain as he reached out a shaking hand to cup your breast. He squeezed softly, marveling at the supple weight of it in his palm.

"L-Like this? Mikoto? Is this right?" Haruka asked, his voice pitching higher with nervousness. His thumb brushed over your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

Orekoto smirked as he watched Haruka's hand explore you. "Not bad Haruka. Now, don't be shy. Really touch her," he growled, his voice a low, dominant rumble. "I want to see you slide your fingers inside her tight little cunt. Get her dripping wet and desperate for your cock."

Haruka's breath hitched at the crude words, his face flushing an even deeper shade of red. With a shakey nod, he trailed his hand down your stomach, his fingertips dipping teasingly beneath the waistband of your panties. He could feel the heat from your core showing how ready you were.

"I-I'm going to put my fingers inside now, Y/N... Okay?" Haruka said, his voice barely audible. He hooked his fingers into the side of your panties and tugged them down your legs, baring your glistening sex to his hungry gaze.

Orekoto grunted in annoyance. "Stop asking for permission, Haruka. Take what you want. Claim her."

With a deep breath, Haruka pressed a finger against your slick folds, feeling your wetness coat his digit. He slowly pushed forward, watching in awe as your tight walls stretched to accommodate him. He couldn't help but let out a soft moan at the incredible feeling of your silky heat enveloping his finger.

"Y-Y/N... you're so tight," Haruka gasped, slowly pumping his finger in and out of your clenching sex. He added a second finger, then a third, stretching you open as he curled them inside you, stroking along your inner walls.

Your back arched off the mattress, a loud moan escaping your lips as Haruka's fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you. Your hips bucked against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction.

"That's it, Y/N. Take his fingers like the needy little slut you are," Orekoto taunted, his voice a dark, dominant growl. He could see how close you were to the edge, could tell your body was tensing and quivering with impending release. "But don't you dare come. Not yet."

Haruka looked at you with wide, worried eyes, his fingers stilling inside you.

Orekoto's eyes flashed with dark intent as he watched you teetering on the brink of climax, your velvety walls clenching desperately around Haruka's buried fingers. He could see the needy, almost painful desire etched into every line of your body, and it only fueled his own growing arousal.

“Stop," he commanded, his voice a low, authoritative bark. Haruka froze, his fingers still knuckle-deep inside your fluttering sex. "Don't let her come, Haruka. Not yet. You need to mark her first, claim her as yours properly."

Haruka whimpered, he felt his dick twitching in his pants, holding back his own desperate need. With shaking hands, he withdrew his fingers from your dripping core, ignoring your whines. He fumbled with the fastenings of his pants, his cock already straining against the confines, eager for freedom.

"I-I need to...I need to put it in, Y/N?" Haruka asked, his voice high with nerves and anticipation. His cock sprang free as soon as he tugged down his pants and underwear, slapping against his stomach. It was flushed a deep, angry red, the tip super leaky with need.

Orekoto smirked at the virgin Haruka struggling to hold back his desperation. "Yes, Haruka. Claim her cunt. Bury yourself inside her and don't stop until she's overflowing with your seed. Until everyone knows she belongs to you."

Haruka nodded, positioning himself between your spread thighs. The head of his cock nudged against your entrance, slipping through your slick folds to catch on your opening. He looked down at you, his eyes wide and pleading. Though he kept hesitating… afraid to hurt you…

"I-I'm going to...AH!" Haruka gasped.

Growing impatient with Haruka's hesitant pace, Orekoto had moved over to behind Haruka and placed his hands on the small of Haruka's back, pushing the nervous boy forward so he smashed into you. The force of Orekoto's actions drove Haruka's cock deep into your tight channel, forcing you to stretch to take in his girth.

"A-Aah! W-Wait..." Haruka gasped, his eyes widening at the sudden tightness of your walls.

“Shut up and fuck her already," Orekoto growled, his hands gripping Haruka's hips tightly as he helped to drive the boy's movements.

Once he started to get a pace going for himself and Orekoto slowly backed away. Haruka could feel the way your velvety walls gripped and fluttered while his cock split you open.

"Don't hold back. Ravage her cunt until she can't walk straight. Until she's dripping with your cum and everyone knows she belongs to you." Orekoto instructed.

Orekoto's dominant words spurred Haruka on, and he began to move with more urgency, his hips slapping against yours as he drove his cock in and out of your dripping sex. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small Milgram prison cell, mingling with your needy moans and Haruka's increasingly desperate panting. Thankfully everyone else was enjoying their food in the dining area and had no idea what was happening in prisoner 001’s cell.

To keep you from trying to get away, Orekoto reached out and grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with a grip that was just shy of painful. He leaned down, his lips curling into a smirk, his breath hot against your skin. "That's it, take Haruka’s cock like a good little slut. Don't you dare try to run away from Haruka's dick."

Haruka moved his hips slamming against yours with increasing force. The head of his cock kissing your cervix with every powerful thrust.

Watching the erotic scene unfold before him, Orekoto couldn't help but grow harder by the second. The sight of your restrained form writhing on the prison mattress, impaled on Haruka's desperate cock, was almost too much to bear. He could see the tears of pleasure streaking down your face, hear your needy moans and cries as Haruka pistoned in and out of your soaked cunt.

With a low, almost feral growl, Orekoto reached down and freed his own aching erection from the confines of his pants. It sprang out, long, hard, and already leaking with need. He grasped your chin with his free hand, turning your head to face him as he tapped the leaking crown of his cock against your tear-stained cheek.

"Open your mouth, slut," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Put that pretty little mouth to work."

As if in a trance from the undeniable pleasure, you parted your lips, allowing Orekoto to slip his thick length into the warm, wet cavern of your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the head, lapping up the salty essence leaking from the tip. Orekoto groaned at the sensation, his fingers tightening in your hair as he began to slowly thrust his hips, fucking your face with shallow pumps of his cock.

The lewd slurping sounds of the blowjob seemed to drive Haruka wild, spurring him to pick up the pace of his own thrusts. He pounded into you with renewed vigor, the force of his movements causing your body to slide up the mattress with every snap of his hips. The new angle allowed him to drive his cock even deeper, the thick length kissing your womb with every pass.

Haruka's breathing grew ragged and shallow, his rhythm faltering as he rapidly approached his peak. With a strangled cry, he slammed his hips forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside your spasming cunt as he found his release. Thick, hot ropes of his seed painted your insides, filling you with his essence as he shook and shuddered above you.

“Y/N! I love you so much! You always gave me attention and I haven’t been able to get out you out of my mind. I won’t let you leave me or deny me ever. I only need you and you only need me!” Haruka whined as he came.

The feeling of Haruka's cock pulsing and throbbing inside you, pumping you full of his cum, was enough to push you over the edge as well. Your inner muscles clamped down around him like a vice, milking every last drop of his release as your own intense orgasm crashed upon you and you passed out.

Orekoto groaned low in his throat, the erotic sight of you and Haruka lost in passion pushing him over the edge of his own release. He yanked his throbbing cock from your slack mouth, aiming it at your face as thick, hot ropes of his seed erupted from the tip. Pearly strands of cum painted your unconscious cheek, marking you as a possession, a toy of their shared use.

With a satisfied grunt, Orekoto wiped the last drops of his essence from his softening cock, smearing the excess over the swell of your breast. He tucked himself back into his pants with a smirk, the evidence of his debauchery written all over your peaceful, sleeping face.

Turning to Haruka, who was still buried to the hilt inside your limp form, Orekoto patted his shoulder. "You did well, Haru-kun. I'm happy you were able to confess your feelings to Y/N. If you ever need any more…’help’…with your relationship in the future, don't hesitate to come to me. I’m sure I will gladly be able to help you again."

Haruka looked up at Orekoto, his face flushed and glowing with happiness. He couldn't stop smiling, reveling in the knowledge that you were finally, truly his. "Thank you Mikoto" he said softly, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

With a satisfied nod, Orekoto turned and walked out of Haruka’s cell, leaving you and Haruka alone together in the aftermath of your shared arousal. As the door swung shut behind him, Haruka curled his body around yours protectively, holding you close as you both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

BONUS Next Day!:

The next day, Mikoto woke up in his own cell as he blinked awake with a soft yawn, his mind foggy and confused like he had forgotten something... He could feel a strange, unfamiliar dampness in his pants, and he wiggled uncomfortably on the mattress in his cell.

Rising from his mattress, Mikoto stretched and got himself out of bed. He went to brush his teeth and got on a fresh pair of pants and underwear deciding to discard the previous wet ones embarrassed that Es or Jackolope might comment if they saw the obvious wet patch during an interrogation.

Mikoto decided to head to the cafeteria to grab a bite to eat. He made his way out of his cell and towards the communal dining area.

As Mikoto entered the dining area, he spotted Haruka sitting alone at a table, snacking on a fluffy mound of cotton candy.

"Hey there, Haru-kun! Mind if I join you?" Mikoto asked in his usual cheerful tone as he approached the table where Haruka sat, completely oblivious to what his other personality had done the previous night. He pulled out a chair setting down his tray and sat down across from Haruka.

Haruka's head shot up at the sound of Mikoto's voice, his eyes wide and anxious. He seemed to tremble slightly, a flicker of uncertainty and guilt in his expression. It was clear that he was wondering whether Mikoto remembered the details of their shared encounter with you the previous night.

"U-Um, h-hello Mikoto..." Haruka stammered nervously. "You... you want to sit with me?"

Mikoto tilted his head in confusion at his nervous voice. "Huh? Of course, Haruka. Why wouldn't I want to sit with you?" he asked with a soft chuckle. "We're friends, aren't we? By the way how did your confession with Y/N go yesterday?"

Haruka told him it went fine and you accepted thanks to his… advice. And Mikoto hummed satisfied with himself, having no clue of what Orekoto had forced upon you, or the role he had played in your defilement…

Now your sleeping body is hidden, tucked under the blankets of the mattress in Haruka’s cell hugging his rabbit plush, for him to now be able to enjoy all of your attention.

A/N: YANDERE HARUKA SAKURAI. KINDA POLY MIKOTO KAYANO. OREKOTO IS FREAKY. MORE MILGRAM SMUT SINCE NO ONE WANTS TO WRITE IT. Like serrrrrriously we have a series about criminalsssss and noooo one wants to write dark content? Fine. I will make it.

[goingmerryfics]

Could you write reader in a poly relationship with Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji? I love your writing <3

The Germa Boys’ Plaything - Ichiji, Niji, Yonji x Reader

Content: ‘forced’ relationship, jealousy, these boys are toxic and unfeeling but you like them anyway, love language talk, quick mention of Judge

Notes* I’m glad I’ve gotten the chance to meet these three already! I definitely think a relationship with one of them would be tricky, let alone three. So here are my thoughts on a poly relationship with these boys!

Ichiji, Niji & Yonji

The relationship had started without a plan or a label. You were simply… chosen one day and told by Ichiji that you were to be his personal handmaid. What you didn’t know is that would entail more duties than what you had signed up for when you began your work with Germa 66

It became more and more obvious that Ichiji liked you and that he just… Couldn’t express that. He simply labeled you as his one day and then you two were a couple. There wasn’t much input you could have on the situation

Of course, his brothers also decided they wanted to be involved and it became a whole thing

They’re always arguing over you. Jealousy runs high- so high that they’re not afraid to bring it outside for a fight just to decide who gets to sit next to you

Neither of them are the nicest partners, but they also don’t treat you too badly

Unfortunately, you like them, too. So you don’t actually mind being in this situation

Of course, there are long times when you don’t get to see them. When the boys are on missions or training, you are explicitly ordered to attend to your duties and not to be as distraction

By now, you’ve forgotten where the line was drawn between ‘handmaiden’ and ‘girlfriend’. But even that label didn’t feel right to give to yourself when it came to Ichiji, Niji, or Yonji. You were more of a plaything sometimes

They definitely make you feel like a doll at times. A toy to fight over at times

It had never been labeled specifically as a polyamory, but that’s 100% what it is

Because none of the three cared to actually sit down and work things out, the lines are very blurred when it comes to the relationship you shared with each of them. There were no rules or guidelines for each other to follow, making it a very confusing arrangement

Dates were rare, too. Usually the boys just wanted you around them as a pretty thing to keep by their side. But rare does not equal non-existent, thankfully

Ichiji knows you best, being the first man to become involved with you romantically. He knows your birthday, he orders your favorite flowers to your room sometimes, and he’s the first one to think to have a private dinner organized for the both of you with your favorite food as the meal, paired with whatever wine works best with that

Niji on the other hand, is more of a physical lover. He’s always got his hands on you somewhere if he can reach you, and dates with him are any situation where he can touch you. A walk around the castle with his arm around your waist, having you sit in his lap and making out in the library, and the like

Yonji is the most expressive out of the three and a beast with his words. He knows just what to say to make you feel special- often showering you with compliments. He likes to whisper things to you whenever he passes by as well, whether it be a sweet compliment of your outfit and how it looks on you, or a heated promise of a late night visit later. Yonji is awful with dates and tends to forget to organize them or just loses interest in whatever you’re doing together quickly. You usually take the reins on your ‘dates’, and end up doing things that are quick or simple together

You’re not sure if Judge approves of you or if he even knows of the situation. You’re not going to be the one to tell him, that’s for sure