#no but seriously in a modern au he would be so sweet

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain, mention of Sirus' family but no talk of abuse, some talk of traumatic injury

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Sirius hates the cold. It makes him look ill, his nose always runs, and he does not have a head made for hats. 

The walk to the rink yesterday was bad, with the chill and the early hour and the dark mood that seemed to permeate him like it infused his very blood, but you made it better by being yourself. He suspects you might have even been going out of your way to be sweeter than usual, given that you knew it was the anniversary of the day Sirius ran away from his family’s home. You’d tried to cheer him up. Still, yesterday was bad.

Today is worse. 

You’re silent as you stalk down the sidewalk, one boy on either side of you. You said hello to both him and Remus as you stepped out the door of your apartment, and then that was it. If it were Sirius it might make sense, but you always have an unnatural amount of energy in the mornings. Obviously you’re not speaking to him. And Sirius is still upset about the addition of the death spiral to your routine, so he’s not speaking to Remus. And Remus is hardly one to spark up conversation during an uncomfortable silence, so that just makes the three of you a very sullen, very silent procession to your early fucking morning practice. 

Except when you arrive, the rink is already bustling. You take one step inside before going back out the door, forcing both boys back outside with you.

“What the fuck?” Remus tries to peer inside. For once, Sirius agrees with him. “Who’s taken our slot?”

“I don’t know,” you say, but you’re still standing in front of the door like you’re barring their entry. “I’m going to go find out. You guys stay here.” 

“Why?” Sirius asks.

Even when you look at him you’re not really looking at him, your eyes distant. If you’re trying to make him feel like shit, it’s working. “Because I don’t need either of you going in there to bite someone’s head off. I’ve got it.” 

With that, you slip inside, not giving either of them a chance to argue. Sirius supposes he could go after you anyway, but you seem like you’d bite his head off, and he’s hurting enough from the cold without that extra ailment to contend with. He pulls out a cigarette instead. 

“You really shouldn’t do that,” Remus hums, but when Sirius looks over the other boy is lighting up too, a cig dangling from the corner of his mouth. When he sees Sirius struggling with his lighter, his fingers frozen and clumsy, he rolls his eyes and steps closer. 

Sirius goes still as Remus cups a hand around his cigarette, lithe fingers an inch from his mouth. The lighter rasps once, and the warmth next to Sirius’ face is a welcome sensation. When Remus steps away Sirius straightens his shoulders, expression carefully impassive as he inhales. He doesn’t thank him. 

“She’ll have your ass for doing it, too,” he says. 

Remus lifts a brow, blowing smoke out one corner of his mouth. “Why? I don’t need my lungs for anything.” 

Sirius shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. She thinks she should be in charge of the whole world.” 

A soft chuckle. Remus looks out to where the sun will rise in a few hours, the sky still a sweet blue. “Maybe she should be.” 

Sirius can’t help a little smile at that. He takes comfort only in knowing Remus doesn’t see. “Don’t let her hear you say that.” 

They lapse into a brief silence, easier and more contented than Sirius would have thought possible between the two of them. It breaks only when you come bustling back out the doors. 

“Okay, so apparently—” You stop, looking between them both. “Guys. Seriously?” 

“What?” Remus asks, but Sirius knows better, dropping his cigarette and stamping it out. 

Your gaze flicks over him, almost approving but still a far cry from friendly. He swears your mouth wants to smile at him, only you’re not letting it. 

“Those are so bad for you,” you tell Remus. 

He levels you with a dry look, the brave bastard. “What does it matter? I’m not an athlete.” 

You wince but don’t back down. “Athletes aren’t the only ones with reason to live past fifty.” You give him a hard look. It takes a while, but eventually Remus relents, dropping his cigarette as Sirius had. You nod, crouching to pick up both dog-ends and taking them to a bin. “Each one shortens your life by eleven minutes, you know.” 

Remus meets Sirius’ eyes, incredulous. “She comes prepared with statistics?” he asks in a hushed voice. 

Sirius nods. “Told you so.” 

You brush your hands off on your pants. “Okay. Anyway, hockey practice got moved up.” 

“You’re joking,” says Remus. 

“Nope. And, someone else got wind of it before us, because the slot they had at nine has already been filled. We can’t practice today.” 

Sirius shakes his head. “Bullshit. Why did hockey get moved?” 

You shrug, hugging your middle so your hands can burrow under your arms for warmth. “Management said they didn’t know, only that someone on the team asked for a different slot just for today. Seems like they were sweet-talked into it.” 

Your eyes meet Sirius’ for half a second, and he takes out his phone, frigid thumbs anger-typing away. 

“So that’s it then?” Remus asks. He looks like he’d really like his cigarette back. “We’ve just woken up before dawn and we’re not going to practice?” 

You sigh. “Seems that way. We can come back during open skate, but you know how that is.” 

Sirius scowls, and Remus’ expression twinges with distaste. “Yeah,” says Remus, “let’s wait until tomorrow.” 

You all break where you usually do, though hours ahead of schedule, Remus going off towards his place and Sirius walking you in the direction of yours. 

“Fancy a coffee?” he asks you, voice intentionally light. 

It has the expected effect. You bristle at his easy tone, keeping your eyes ahead. “No, thanks.” 

“Fair enough.” Sirius would really like something to warm his hands, but he suspects he needs to pick his battles with you today. “Fancy telling me when we’re going to be friends again?” 

You blow out a harsh breath. It crystalizes in front of you, and you walk right through. “Don’t be daft. We’re always friends. It’s because I’m your friend that I’m so pissed off with you.” 

He nods slowly. “I don’t follow.” 

You shake your head, anger quickening your pace so that Sirius is nearly jogging to keep up with you. “Why can’t you ever stay out of your own way?” you ask him. “I know yesterday was hard for you, but you can’t be an asshole to everyone just because you’re having a bad day.” 

“Hey now, that’s not fair.” Sirius knows joking probably isn’t the best tactic with you right now, but he can’t help himself. “I wasn’t an asshole to you, was I?” 

“That’s what I mean!” You stop so hard he nearly plows into you, but you don’t so much as flinch at the possibility. Your stare is fierce. “You can’t keep trying to scare him off. It’s not going to work, and we need him. Can’t you see how much better he’s made us already? I know you didn’t want a coach, but Remus is good for us. So you can stop being so difficult.” 

“I am not being difficult,” says Sirius, though he often is. You stick your tongue in your cheek, annoyed, and he fights the urge to take your face in his hands. He hates having you cross with him, but at least you’re talking. “And you don’t know what we would be like if he weren’t here. We might’ve been fine.” 

You sigh, looking suddenly tired. And so, so disappointed. “That’s not the point anyways. You know what you said to him yesterday was wrong.” 

Sirius feels a dull stab in his gut. He knows. He does. He knew it the second it came flying out of his mouth, and he has no idea why Remus doesn’t seem as livid with him as you are. Remus, with his even voice and his exasperated, knowing looks and that stern little wrinkle between his brows, who seems able to wind Sirius up better than anyone else. A match to his short fuse. 

“How would you feel?” you ask. Some of the anger has fallen away from your voice, leaving it soft and sad. “What if we went to competition in a few weeks, and you injured yourself so that you knew you could never skate again. And then someone used it to mock you.” 

“He’s risking us doing that,” Sirius says, stubbornly, though he can hear the plea in his own voice, “by asking us to change the routine.” 

“He’s trying to help us,” you reply firmly. But your shoulders droop, and you sigh. “I know you feel bad about it. I’m done being mad at you now. It’s exhausting.” 

Sirius feels too hollowed out to revel much in the victory, but your arm linking through his does help some. “Some could say that was my plan all along,” he jokes weakly. 

You make a halfhearted attempt at a chuckle. “Good thing I know better. If your hands are in danger of falling off, you could stop at mine, make yourself a coffee.” 

“When I asked you for coffee five minutes ago you said no.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t done punishing you yet.” 

[toxycodone]

boyfriend hcs + modern au kabru

Genuinely...one of the only chatacters that makes for a semi-normal relationship and and actual good boyfriend

OKAY FOR ONE MODERN AU KABRU. HEAR ME OUT. He dresses in a really specific way to me. You know how like, maybe the male romantic lead of a 2000s disney movie would dress? With the short sleeved shirt, jeans, some bracelets on either wrists?? Like it’s a very basic outfit but he doesn’t need anything too crazy. Kabru’s beauty carries him so far he seriously does not need to dress insanely well or I fear he will make too many strangers fall in love with him.

You're a bit of a fixation to him. He's not like going as far as Laios to actually take physical notes and such, but he makes a lot of mental notes about you.

The way you brush your hair? The expression you make while you focus? Perhaps even littler things like how your brow quirks when you try to be polite but he knows you're lying? Yeah. He can read you like a book.

I think this can kinda cause issues because in his little mind palace he's like. anticipating how you will react to things and has a lot of communication issues surrounding it. Instead of just outright saying things he tends to beat around the bush and test the waters before like eventually being forced to say what’s on his mind.

(Or in some cases he may feel it’s better to withhold info which like. Is an entirely separate can of worms. MAKE HIM TALK AND BE HONEST YOURE AN ADULT YOU CAN HANDLE IT).

However this perceptiveness DOES benefit him a lot and make him a good partner though. He can sense a depression episode coming from a mile away. Or when you’re stressed.

But for smaller things, he tends to keep things you like around the house and in stock. Down to your favorite chips to the body wash you always use. Just yeah 💞 He’s sweet and makes sure these things are in stock (and will bring things he thinks you’d like home now and then. He gets happy when it turns out his hunch was right!)

Never ever forgets a birthday, an anniversary, anything. If it’s a date you two deem important, he will ALWAYS get it right and you two will have plans accordingly.

Not a huuuuge PDA person. Kabru’s more lowkey, he’ll have an arm around you or a hand at the small of your waist while you two are around others. You’ll get a kiss to the cheek or a quick peck on the lips but he doesn’t wanna like. Go super crazy in public.

YOUR PARENTS LOVE HIM. THIS IS A GIVEN. Oh my God it is genuinely impressive how easy it is for him to get on your entire family's good side. He's the type of guy that gets the "so when are you guys gonna get married?" comments. If you two break up, you're getting a lot of sly comments about him being the one that got away. Future partners have HELLA big shoes to fill

And your friends? Yeah he fits smoothly into that group as well. No issues at all. I think all your friends would at least have a positive view of him if they don’t decide to start hanging out with him themselves.

Honestly, I think people get a little jealous. He likes to turn up the charm around others (for his own amusement really) and I just KNOW people are seething with jealously because he’s so charming and you are so lucky.

^ This also means he’s gets flirted with in public. He likes it, but he’s very quick to politely shut it down. But he’ll tease you about being jealous afterwards, but you know he’s not going to do anything to betray your trust.

Regarding. Kabru’s own family life. I think he’s really apprehensive to introduce you to Misril. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to know his family. It’s just…complicated. He and Misril are complicated. I think he’s gonna have to lay down some ground rules with you as to not like make things awkward (guilt trippy mom you know they vibes)

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | 16:49 ⏤ FREE GOODIES

SUM. : you had more baked goods than you were able to sell and decide to give them out for free to the firefighters at your local fire station to say thank you

TAGS. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; baker reader ; firefighter james ; james being a love sick puppy ; he hides it well though ; remus and sirius begin scheming ; everyone knows james is in love ; it's obvious to everyone but you

LENGTH : 1.6k

NOT PROOFREAD OR EDITED

“No! Don’t tell me!” you giggle as the man behind the counter grins widely and laughs along with you, his hazel eyes carefully watching as you bring up a brown paper bag and a steaming take-away cup of coffee, “Our special BLT sandwich and a dark roast, cocoa blend to go,”

“All ready for me, huh?” James teases as you smile innocently. He pays for his order and goes to inspect the contents of the brown paper bag as you move behind the cash register and file away his notes, “And a mini treacle tart!” James’ voice lights up in cheerful surprise when he sees the unexpected treat but hurriedly goes in search for more payment in his wallet. 

“Don’t you dare, James,” you scold light-heartedly, “it’s on the house,” his movements stop and he meets your eyes, ready to retaliate. However, sensing your seriousness, his shoulders slacken and his expression eases into a grateful smile instead. 

“Thanks, you’re an angel,” of course, he couldn’t help but send you a wink. His words spread a heat across your cheeks but you pay it no mind, hoping that any signs of your flustered state can be ignored as long as you didn’t draw attention to it. 

“I know I am~” 

“Take care, angel,” with a toothy grin and a wave, James turns and leaves, his day already looking as bright as could be. 

James has been visiting your little bakery and cafe for the better part of a year now; he’s become one of your beloved regulars, maybe one of your most beloved. He was just too handsome and charming for his own good, cute and sweet and always gentleman with you. His uncontrollable dark curls and round glasses gave him this boyish appeal that you couldn’t help but fall for. His voice is smooth and comforting, his eyes a mesmerising hazel, his lips a pretty shape—

“Hey!” snapping out of your daze, you turn to your co-worker in shock.

“Wh-what?”

She smirks and wiggles her brows at you, “I knew you had a thing for him,”

“Oh shush Leona!” you huff and fold your arms but burn hotter in the cheeks when she laughs at you. 

“No need to deny it, I can see why you’re so head over heels~”

“Is that any way to talk to your boss?” making your way over, you playfully nudge her side as you plant yourself beside her and help with the cupcake decorations. 

Gasping, Leona grasps at her chest in mock offence, “I never believed you were that kind of boss! I was tricked—!” her mock ramblings were cut off with another nudge to her side that sent the both of you into a fit of giggles. 

“What should we do with all this?” you ask with a huff, staring in disappointment at all the leftovers in your display cases. Most would only end up in the trash and it broke your heart to see such goodies go to waste. 

“Why don’t you donate them at the local police station or fire department?” Leona suggests with a smile as she wipes down surfaces, “The fire department isn’t too far from here so you can go there first and do the police station on another day we have extra leftovers,”

Smiling brightly, you nod and get to work, “Brilliant idea Leona! How come I’ve never thought of that before?” 

“Maybe because you’re too busy all the time?” with a light-hearted pout, she faces you and presses on about how you need to consider yourself as a priority for once and actually go home on time. She had a point; the bakery was consuming your life. But you worked hard on the things that mattered to you and that was always a trait you were proud of. Every day you return home with pride and fulfilment in your heart; you loved that feeling despite the ache in your limb. Sighing, your enthusiasm slows considerably but you keep on packing up a random selection of baked goods, “Just think about it at least, boss,” Leona comes up behind you and gives you a quick but heartfelt hug, “we want you to be our boss forever so you have to stay healthy,” just like she always does, she brings a smile to your lips and slowly helps you with packing up the rest. 

With the bakery closed up, you head out with your packaged leftovers piled high in the passenger seat of your car and wave goodbye to Leona before pulling away. She was right in saying that the fire station wasn’t too far, it was a short five-minute drive from your bakery with parking close by too. 

It was a little unnerving. You had never done this before. And, even though you knew there was nothing wrong with doing this, your nerves still caused a stir in your chest and stomach at the thought of facing such brave and dedicated workers. However, it was that simple thought that pushed you forward. These men and women deserved free baked goodies and more for all of their hard work, there was no need to be shy about it. Balancing the stacked packages in your arms, you push the front door open with your back and carefully turn around as you step into the space. 

“Whoa, you need help with those?” someone calls from your left and you turn to see a handsome brunette, standing tall with an almost invisible dusting of freckles on his nose and a faint scar across his cheek and jaw. 

“Good afternoon!” you chirp happily and sheepishly accept his kind assistance, “I— umm, I wanted to give you guys some of the baked goods from my bakery. We made a little too much today,”

He grins widely as he appraises the tall stack of packages before turning to you with gratefulness in his eyes, “So that’s what smells so delicious,” the two of you share a laugh, “Thank you so much for this, it’s very kind of you,” a warm heat coats your cheeks as you shyly wave off his praise, which he shakes his head at discreetly but still maintains his happy grin, “come,” he tilts his head to one direction, “lets go feed everyone,” 

Remus introduces himself as he leads you down a hallway to the lounge room, where he suspected most of his colleagues congregated to. When you give your name in return, he tilts his head and mutters something unintelligible under his breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” 

“Oh nothing,” he chuckles softly, “I just thought it sounded familiar,” you had questions but shrugged and shrugged them off as unimportant when the two of you finally made it into the lounge area. Entering the space, you see the firemen scattered around the wide room, a group were playing cards around a table with several spectators, one or two were reading a book while another small group stood by a small kitchenette with steaming mugs, chatting between themselves. 

“Remus!” a dark haired man with a visible neck tattoo walks up from where he stood observing the card game, just so he could sling his arm over the brunette’s broad shoulders, “Who’s our cute guest?”

Remus introduces you and the purpose of your visit but his voice slowly fades into the background as soon as you meet eyes with a very familiar pair of hazel pools. 

“James?” blinking in surprise, you tilt your head and observe the man in his fireman uniform, minus the heavy jacket, leaving him in a black compression shirt to showcase his muscles. It made your cheeks heat up again but hotter. You had no idea how brawny he was with his soft charm and sweet face. But this was a very pleasant surprise. 

The man in question stands up, staring at you as if in a trance and makes his way over as Remus and his raven-haired friend step away with devious grins on their faces. They weren’t the only ones however, everybody else in the room looked on with a similar grin stretching across their lips, slightly leaning forward in their interest. 

“Wh-what are you doing here?” he sounds like he’s choking on air, breathless and in complete disbelief at the sight of you. 

“I uh– there were some leftover goodies at the bakery so I thought I could give them to you guys…as a thank you for all your good work,” you admit softly, staring up at him with timid eyes and watching with a gradually racing heart as a toothy grin takes over his features. His eyes sparkled with mirth under the fluorescent light and your heart skipped a beat in your chest. How does he do that? 

“You’re really too kind,” and so perfect James wanted to finish, ignorant to his friends’ snickering. Please be mine! It was a desperate wish and one that he had been making for a long time but he needed to keep his cool. He understands how overbearing and clingy he could be at times and didn’t want to frighten you.  

“You guys deserve it,” you return and silently hold up your packages with a smile. Happily, he takes the load and leads you to a table where he helps spread them out for his friends and colleagues to take as they please. Everyone around you gushes at the array and sings your praises in between their gratitude for the kind gesture. Amongst all the chatter, you also manage to hear soft whisperings that didn’t quite fit the rest of the words at the forefront of surrounding conversations. 

“That’s the cute baker Jamesie has been gushing about for months now, huh?”

“Seems so. Finally, we can put a name to the face,”

There was some laughter, “He looks like a love sick puppy,”

From the corner of your eye, you observe James and the goofy grin on his face, trapped in a daze as he stares down at you with adoring eyes and a soft blush on his cheeks. In your head, you make a mental note to visit the fire department more often. 

A/N : it just feels right that James is a firefighter, right? i'm not the only one who thinks this? nevertheless, i hopefully managed to convince you lovelies otherwise hehehe~

NAVI.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @sageskisses444 @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @fortheeeefics @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @ghostgardn @rosalyn-s @seungtelevision

[luveline]

Hello lovely Jade! Can we please get something where reader is watching a horror movie with best friend!Remus (that’s she’s head over heels for) and is so scared she ends up on his lap? Love you!

love you :D♡♡ fem, modern au

"I really don't like this." 

Remus laughs under his breath. "Don't be a scaredy cat," he whispers. 

You take the pillow from his lap without asking and hold it in front of your face, peering over the top as the TV turns quiet. Quiet means suspense, and suspense leads to jumpscares. 

"I always am," you whisper back, stretching back in your seat. 

The settee is old and dipped in the centre, leaving you and Remus thigh to thigh, as close as you can be to one another without having your legs tangled. "It's not that bad," Remus says, putting an arm behind you in a show of support. "It's hiding in the kitchen cupboard, watch." 

His warning doesn't stop the flinch of the demon's appearance nor the way you jump back, almost dropping your head into him. "Sorry," you say. 

"Don't apologise," he says, but it's lost as the horror keeps on coming— the demon possesses the daughter, the daughter splits her head open on a wall. Something sharp splinters from her face and it's disgusting, it's too much, you whine something silly and push the pillow over your eyes. "Dove, don't suffocate. Look, I think it's done now," he says.

You look as he tells you to, trusting of your oldest, bestest friend, and your loyalty is rewarded with another scare that catches you off guard completely, a fleshy face of black gore so close to the camera that it feels like it's in the room. You scramble away from the screen and into Remus' arms forcefully, turning away from the screen and into his embrace. "What the fuck," you gasp. 

Difficult to explain why you're genuinely frightened but not the immediate safety of Remus' arm behind you, the tight hold of it, the ridge of a bicep pressed hard to your shoulders. "I'll turn it off," he says quickly, though his hands stay right where they are on your jumper. 

He smells like sandalwood and autumn rain, that earthy smell of rain and crushed leaves, like a walk in the woods. You start to laugh as you breathe him in, aware of the terrible fool you've made of yourself and the humour in the situation, at least. 

"I'm so sorry," you laugh, moving back, careful not to knee him somewhere delicate. 

His face comes into view, not half as annoyed as you worried it would be, brown eyes sugary sweet with soft lashes to match, his hands falling to your elbows. "Let me pause it." He keeps a hand on the middle of your back, fingers spread, encapsulating. It says I'm here without asking for anything in return. "Fucking hell, dove, I know you have bad nerves, but I've never seen one get you like that." 

You should put some amicable space between you. Remus should drop his hand. Instead, you put your hand on his collarbone and catch your breath, the excitement an instant headache waiting to bloom behind your eyes. 

"There," he says, his gaze back on you. "That'll help." 

You glance over your shoulder. Remus has changed the channel to World of Zoo, where a baby panda tries to stand while holding its own foot. "Nice," you say, smiling sheepishly to yourself. Nice. You loser. 

You turn back suddenly when his hand strokes your cheek. Two fingers, the backs of his marriage and pinky, tracing a short line down your still trembling cheek. "Seriously, dove, calm down. You think I'd let something hurt you?" he asks softly.

"No, I–" Can he stop you from swallowing your own tongue. "Of course not." 

"I can't believe it," he says, dropping his hand. "Never seen you like that, what happened?" He rubs your back roughly like he's trying to warm you up. "Let me make you a cup of tea, lovely." 

He says this, and yet he makes no move to leave your side. His behaviour is almost as odd as the way you respond, sinking into his touch. 

[lyrefromthesea]

Kinktober - Hair kink with Tengen

pairing: Tengen x f!reader

content warning: nsfw, p in v, Tengen with chest hair/happy trail, hair kink (reader), riding, mating press, creampie, modern au

When you decided to go into the bathroom, there wasn't anything that really moved you to make that decision. Pure boredom and the hope to find a distraction forced you to stand up and walk upstairs.

The bathroom door stood open - one of your husband's habits. He always left the door open when he was showering. It wasn't anything new, yet hoping for a kiss, you went inside to see him.

Tengen stood in front of the sink, only wearing his shorts. Not long and they would be gone too, the bathtub was already filled with steaming water. However, when you saw the razor in his hand your eyes widened. He brought it to his chest, seemingly trying to shave the fine hair growing on his body.

"What are you doing!"

He would've been listening to the accusatory tone in your voice more, if it hadn't been for your phone hitting the ground. To his surprise, you completely ignored the expensive article, your wide eyes staying on him.

"I don't know, what did I do?" He looked down at himself. Was he missing a limb? The horror on your face was unbelievable. He checked his whole body, glancing at you again when he didn't see anything out of place.

"Is it because of your cream? Ya said it was fine la-" You shook your head, stepping closer and looking at the black razor in his hand.

"Were you.. going to shave?" You asked. He felt like he was in a game show, the only right answer unknown to him. Were you asking rhetorical questions?

He looked down at himself, glancing at the silver hair on his chest. He looked almost displeased for a moment, as it something about the sight irked him. "I wanted to shave, then take a bath. We could cuddle after-"

You interrupted him again, this time looking at him with a hint of sadness. "Yes, I- I get it, but why?" He looked at you once more, were you seriously asking him why he wanted to shave?

Silence filled the room for a moment, the gears in his head turning. "It's not flamboyant."

"Who told you that?" Your voice was filled with disbelief. Sure, he's been occasionally chasing his arms and legs, but his chest hair? He never even thought of that!

"I heard a few woman talk about it, when I went shopping. They didn't like it, I thought maybe- what if ya felt the same?"

A mix of emotions fluttered up in your body. He wanted to shave for you? That was.. sweet, but you liked his hair! Besides, why would he even listen to other woman? He could've asked you!

"Baby.." The quiet tone of disappointment made him hearken, subconsciously leaning closer. He watched you step towards him, hand gently taking the razor from his, putting it on the sink.

"If you want to shave, that's okay.. but not for others, especially not me.." He felt your hand on his chest, gently rubbing over his body, sending tingles across his skin.

"You know, I really like it.." He leaned even closer, pleasantly surprised when your lips brushed against his neck. His hands were wandering over your body until they could rest on your waist.

"You look so good and I can't help but stare whenever I see you like this.." Hearing you whisper those words made excitement well in his stomach. His hands wandered down to your ass, squeezing the flesh lightly before picking you up.

He waited for your legs to wrap around his waist, pressing his lips against your neck as soon as you were finished. One, two, three kisses and he spoke again.

"That all ya wanted to say, pretty..? I feel like you're trynna hide something." He teased, smirking when he felt you biting your lip. The tension in the room was clearly rising and he just needed one more tease before things escalated.

"..And I really, really, really love your happy trail, baby. It turns me on so much." You felt his hands squeezing your ass, he was waiting for more. His lips were pressing against your neck again, sucking on the spots he knew you loved.

"Ah- and I- I love when you fuck me and I can feel it rubbing against my clit.."

"Yeah, pretty.. Come on, I know you can do more than that." His hands were grabbing your hips, guiding you to bounce on his shaft. Your little tease from before had escalated into a session of intimacy.

You obliged, trying to move up and down with more speed, the force of your movements picking up. He knew this was exhausting for you, considering his packing size, you couldn't ride him for a long time. That didn't mean he couldn't enjoy this though.

The man hissed when he felt your hands on his chest, instead of pressing them against him, sinking your nails into his skin. "Are ya close already, pretty? Fuck, let me help you."

He pressed you down by your hips, making you moan from suddenly being impaled on his cock. He didn't stop, beginning to rock you against him, grinding intently.

"T- Tengen!" You gasped, your clit was being pressed directly against his groin, the white hair creating never-ending friction against the little nub.

"Come on, cum for me." He sucked on your collarbone, letting out a content sigh when he heard you crying out, your insides gushing around his cock.

"Feels good, hm? But we're not done yet, baby." He spoke against your skin. He held onto your body, making sure it didn't hurt when he pressed you against the mattress of your shared bed.

"Haven't come yet, have I? Gotta feel good too." His hands hooked under your thighs, pushing them up until they were nearly pressing against your chest.

"T- Tengen.. I d- don't know if I can go a- anymore.." He glanced at you, listening to your slurred words. He had to stop himself from cooing at you, gently rocking his dick into the depths of your insides.

"All good, I know ya can come another time." He answered, almost pulling out before he thrusted back into you. His curses were nearly drowned out under the sound of your whines.

"S- shit, you're so tight, pretty.." He muttered, he had slowed down his movements, yet he continued slowly thrusting into you. "Relax for me, yeah?"

He leaned down, his tongue pressing against yours as his pace picked up again. The weight of his body got your legs pressing against your chest. You swore you could taste his tip in your throat at this point.

His speed picked up when small tears started gathering in your eyes. With the way you were squeezing his cock he couldn't last long, instead making sure to grind himself against your clit whenever he bottomed out.

And then you were crying out again, feeling him thrust into you a few more times before he was groaning into your kiss.

He leaned back to take in your trembling form, still rocking himself into you. Your insides were clearly milking him for all he was worth, as a good husband, it was his duty to give it all to you.

When you were finally coming down from your high, his warm hands were soothingly rubbing over your legs, knowing that they were likely to feel sore later.

"Ya wanna bathe with me? Water's probably cold, but I could heat it up for us." You only let out a defeated huff, too tired to answer. It didn't matter, he was already helping you up, knowing that you would appreciate a hot bath with him.

[sixosix]

happy 5k, six! i remember finding you randomly one day bc i wanted to read more genshin fics and look where you are today!! you absolutely deserve all the love n support you're given rn /p /happy

in any case, i can't resist the event calling out to me frfr, so if it's possible, may i please request a badtzmaru plushie, wanderer, and fluff?

wc 300, modern au; THANK U SO MUCH ANON WHATTT that means so much to me!! so glad u were w me thru my journey... and also im sorry LMFAOO u sent this ask a month ago,,, i hope u'll be able to read this anon<3

5K EVENT SPECIAL | EVENT MASTERLIST

“What the hell is that,” Kunikuzushi said blankly.

“It looks like you! Doesn’t it?”

The badtz-maru plush stared back at him, daring him to deny it. Kunikuzushi glared at it with contempt rolling off of him in actual visible waves. “No. No, it really doesn’t.”

You held the plushie by his face and compared the unhappy expressions. They looked terrifyingly similar. It was hilarious, and so you burst out laughing at Kunikuzushi’s face.

Bullied, Kunikuzushi snatched the plushie off your grip and reared it far from your reach. “Why do you even have this?”

Kunikuzushi was scowling and trying his best to come off as intimidating, but with the badtz-maru plush in his grip, it was excruciatingly difficult to take him seriously. Or maybe it was because you’d gotten too used to him that it didn’t affect you. His attention was still attention from him.

You grinned and batted your eyelashes in a way you knew would make him falter. “I told you already. It reminded me of you.”

Kunikuzushi was still scowling, but his arm no longer extended like he was seconds away from chucking the palm-sized stuffed toy. It was still staring at him, and you were reminded of those pets looking like their owner videos.

“How long have you had this?” he asked, voice much quieter. His ears were red.

“Probably since you left to visit Japan.”

“A week?”

“A week!” You gasped. “That’s shorter than your last trip. Did you miss me that much?”

He cocked a brow. “This is more home than that shithole.”

You wanted to coo and tease him for that rare glimpse of vulnerability (even when veiled by his indirect wording), but you knew what he meant—you knew what it felt like. Your quiescent house only ever felt like a home when Kunikuzushi was here.

“Should I buy you a plushie that looks like me for you to take?” you wondered aloud, genuinely considering it. The stupid badtz-maru plushie you bought out of a moment of weakness from missing him, no matter how ridiculous, helped you when your arms felt a little lonely.

“No need.” Kunikuzushi threw the plushie to the bed, ignoring your alarmed shout. He drew you in by the waist and smiled in that deceptively sweet way only he could really pull off. “I’ll just take the real deal along with me instead.”

[blackknight-kai]

I don’t talk about her much, because she changes based on the au I use. The art below for my OC is from the wonderful WKZ who is not on the platform anymore for reasons of their choosing - *Friend if you see this know I appreciate you and you are missed*

If you want more of her let me know 😊 I’m gonna write some fics with her.

OC name: Kavara

(I do have a monkey version of her written out 😊 just not added to this post cuz she’s special and I’m still working on her)

Mix of Modern/Ancient Era traits

- [ ] Shes 5’6”/167 cm tall , shorter than the monkeys, her forehead is at mouth height (I hc them kinda tall? Like 5’10” /177cm or so). She has nice curves/ not too skinny not too hearty and a c/d-cup.

- [ ] She has deep burgundy red hair due to fire based abilities (wip)

- [ ] Amber eyes / almost orange in the right light

- [ ] 6 little dark freckles/moles that are in a straight line all the way down her cheek starting from the far side of her left eye, almost like a tear left stain, like me, (lore thing I’m still thinking about)

- [ ] Depending on what I use her for she has short curly/wavy hair or long curls.

- [ ] Likes peach scented body oil. (😏)

- [ ] Used to look mean - but she is gentle inside.

- [ ] Has to touch everything that’s soft if she walks by it, soft blanket? Gotta touch. Soft monkey? Gotta touch. Also likes being wrapped in cozy soft things. (Likes lots of pillows and blankets on her bed - she runs warm though so likes the air to be cool)

- [ ] Seriously she loves petting his fur…would do it all day long.

- [ ] Doesn’t eat sweets often, too rich for her.

- [ ] Likes sweet fruits though like peaches, plums (likes the tart skin on these the best), and crunchy apples.

- [ ] Dances/wiggles in her seat a little if she likes her food a lot

- [ ] No matter what AU she always finds DO/WK (or his variants) handsome instantly- crush may take longer but she always finds him charming and interesting in his own way.

- [ ] Enjoys messing with DO-Wukong/catching him off guard. Shes a little menace too (especially to those she likes). Enjoys annoying people (but not too much- like if making a pop sound with her mouth repeatedly gets under your skin she’s gonna do it - not to the point of pissing you off but she’s gonna get on your nerves).

- [ ] Chews on stuff sometimes to alleviate aggression/help keep focus/lower anxiety.

- [ ] Not a big drinker but will have a drink or two. Doesn’t mind a drunk monkey.

- [ ] Likes to collect pretty rocks and smooth stones that feel good in her hand.

- [ ] Not big on fancy luxury. Or stuffy clothes.

- [ ] Her weapons are similar to Kratos, (dual blades that can be smoldering etc and have chains she can use to throw them and pull them back. She likes to make big explosions 💀

- [ ] She hides them as earrings so they are always with her.

- [ ] Under her outfit she wears chest wraps to keep girlies together and tight to her chest. She wears the equivalent of panties but a loincloth sash covers her ass and front- legs exposed - this way if she loses her outer wear due to her fire she isn’t nakey.

- [ ] Puts her friends first.

- [ ] Curses internally a lot- sometimes out loud.

- [ ] Again, seems tough/uncaring but she is the most accepting person (as long as you aren’t genuinely bad/do bad shit) and will be the mom friend.

- [ ] Enjoys taking care of DO/WK. wants always help him, he’s her best friend. (Eventual lover)

- [ ] Wants him to feel cared for - and that she’d be there for him.

- [ ] in alt universe’s she would fight the fuckers at the begin of the game for him. Or by his side. She would genuinely die to keep him from having to resign himself to dying just to be free.

None of this is fine tuned but it’s the basic of whatever I got. I changed some stuff to suit my needs so…so I’m sorry if it’s a bit confusing but here we go!

This is a version of her specifically meant to know Wukong before BMW events. (Other versions of her like modern au or whatever I need her for don’t follow this but have similar things)

She is an immortal, one birthed of fire, chaos, destruction, (rebirth if you think about how fire culls the land for new life to grow), the embodiment of the roaring fires on the sun basically.

So in her younger days she is not exactly well liked, shes strong and was someone who didn’t like to held down. She didn’t outright disobey or was rebellious but if something wasn’t right or if she felt slighted/felt someone was slighted she would make that shit known. Quick to anger.

Because of this she had pissed off the wrong person, they placed a curse on her - (again not fine tuned) and it basically is like a black tar root that starts from her heart and starts spreading and coiling around her body the more emotion she feels, specifically negative ones like (seen negative) anger, hatred, fear, all those kinds of emotions.

She can heal, but the pain and the curse will spread to such agonizing levels that if she pushes it too far it will take over her body and encapsulate her/put out the fire in her which keeps her immortal. She of course tries to break the curse but there isnt anything that works. It’s like a spore that is attached to her heart that has molded to her and wont go.

Unfortunately this makes her shut down emotionally, she doesnt have a support system so as much as she tries to fight the agony gets worse and worse. Her fire dims, not dead, just dims. Kavara at this point just does her duties, keeps to herself, and represses all emotions whatsoever. She’s free of pain and honestly doesnt have to worry about shit, so it becomes her new norm.

In comes Sun Fucking Wukong.

The charming egotistical chaotic monkey yaoguai that wants to play immortal. She hears of him mostly, but remains indifferent. Until one day they finally meet.

Probably the worst thing that happens to a lot of people actually…..because Sun Wukong is the first to make her laugh. Ever. Not one of those “haha i am victorious” laughs she might have had when fighting back in the day. No, a full on belly aching laugh. Tears down her face and a wide pretty smile, something she honestly wasn’t capable of/thought she had. (She’s beautiful but never thought about it I guess)

This is the first time she realizes that HAPPY or positive emotions dont make the curse spread.

Wukong of course takes this as his sign to KEEP making her laugh (when he isnt being a little shit in heaven and to others).

Over time they do become friends, he learns of her curse, she learns of his goals. Unfortunately for everyone else Wukong influences her to stop being an emotionless doll and she becomes his partner in crime. Best chaotic duo ever.

THERES MORE BUT THIS IS JUST SOME OF HER STORY!!!

I didn’t wanna give the WHOLE lore, if you want more let me know. It’s quite a bit and a mix of angst & happiness.

Same with a version of her that meets Destined One. It’s a different AU and one that is a bit on the angsty side but I will ALWAYS give a happy ending.

[hismourningflower]

「 sugar cookies | fanfiction 」 wriothesley x gn!reader | fluff, modern!au | valentines fanfiction. ↳ additional tags. established relationship, potentially ooc wrio, a tiny bit suggestive? baking, not proofread as of right now !! ↳ happy valentines, loves !! ♡

data has been uploaded! @soleillunne, @dumbificat, @lovingluxury, @starryshinyskies, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @ainescribe

the jade's guidelines | genshin masterlist | send an ask to join the jade's taglist! specify genshin, honkai or both

with the temperatures now starting to pick up in fontaine, WRIOTHESLEY is fully aware of what holiday is to come. how could he not be? the pink and red merchandise plastered in every shop window, cute cartoon hearts decorating usually ordinary packaging and of course the sweet - but suffocating - scent of roses the moment he enters a supermarket.

winter beginning to fade out only meant one thing... valentines day. as someone who works fairly remotely and only converses with prisoners on the daily of the city's local prison, wriothesley never had a reason to celebrate valentines day. in fact, he would sometimes be caught sneering at the obnoxious colour scheme every time february wrapped around. he'd even go as far as turning his head away, wishing for anything but the twenty-four hours to pass over.

that was until just under a year ago. under the peer pressure of a few friends - namely clorinde and navia, out of the goodness of their hearts, - he'd decided that maybe blind dating wasn't so bad. his tiring routine he'd burned into his mind was beginning to make his body and mind both ache equally as much and all he was starting to think about was a change in his life.

wriothesley was perfectly locked into his habit of waking up early, working at the prison, commuting home and going straight back to sleep but... where's the fun in that? and as navia had quite teasingly stated, he was starting to waste his life away as a workaholic.

that's where he met you, after all. someone who turned a blind eye to the awful schedule of his work rota and that growing collection of different teas he stashed in his kitchen cupboards. in turn, the growing collection was now tucked neatly in your shared kitchen cupboards instead.

now he had a reason to stare at the brightly coloured gifts and cheesy slogans, taking every single factor about you into consideration when it came to the smallest things about valentines; including the card, yes. it took wriothesley an hour and navia's quiet begging for him to choose a card for you, his first valentine. at least, the first one he'd ever cared to delve this far into valentines gifts for.

"you're hopeless," navia whines under her breath as the two exit the store, opening the iced coffee she'd purchased from the chilled section (and i quote, how else was she going to put up with him?), "i didn't think i'd ever see you take valentines this seriously."

her comment perks his attention from his phone, where'd he been texting none other than you whilst you was on your break at work. he makes a noise before chuckling, deep and hearty as he adjusts his tie awkwardly. there's a heat creeping his neck as he clears his throat, eyes darting anywhere but the fashionable blonde as she sips her aforementioned iced coffee with a smug smirk.

"yeah, well - i don't care," he retorts boldly and navia almost spits her coffee out, giggling behind her hand as she covers her lipgloss coated lips for some form of dignity, "sometimes i wonder why i'm still friends with you?"

"rude. anyways, i'm the reason your social circle is so big now. i'm glad i don't have to watch you work yourself to death anymore." navia sighs, shaking her head as the conversation takes a vulnerable turn for the both of them. wriothesley can't deny that despite how much they bicker from siblings, she's always cared for him with good intentions. there's a moment of him debating how clorinde bagged such a kind-hearted girl before he almost makes himself chuckle at the thought.

large calloused hands rummage in the reusable bag you'd shoved into his chest before you hurried out of the door for work this morning, mindlessly checking over all the gifts and ingredients he'd acquired with a slight break in his bank account. your boss had called you in for the morning, already throwing a spanner in the works of your valentines day preparations however they promised you'd be free before lunch - which meant the baking you'd been so excited for could still go ahead, according to plan.

later that day, in the midst of wriothesley fumbling around in the kitchen cupboards as if he was lost in his house, you arrived home. that shift had been less than ideal, adding onto your frustration of being called into work in the first place. yet the grin that etches onto your partner's stubbled face draws you from that frustration; it calms you, eases you into the comfort of his burly arms when you rest your head against his chest and forget your worries.

"work was that bad?" wriothesley's voice murmurs in your ear and you can barely stifle a nod, nuzzling against the warmth radiating through his clothes as he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head.

"that bad," you mumble in response, sighing as you force yourself to pull away from your boyfriend's hypnotising hold before you fall asleep standing up, "time to bake out my anger - what recipe did you end choosing?"

"sugar cookies," wriothesley seems quite proud of his choice, a calloused hand gesturing towards the numerous multicoloured sprinkles he'd prepared on the kitchen counter - knowing him, that could be very well the only ingredients he brought, "you know, with that heart cookie cutter you begged for the other week?"

a playful scoff leaves your lips, a gentle hit of your hand against his shoulder as you brush past him, rolling your sleeves up to your elbows so that you can start the tedious process you'd signed yourself up for on this fateful valentines day. the soft hum of wriothesley reverberates around the kitchen of your shared home, sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window and basking in the potted plants you'd decorated the windowsill with.

your friends had been dubious about you moving in so soon with wriothesley but you knew only a few months in that you would trust this man with your life. despite his gruff, solemn demeanour, wriothesley was in your eyes perhaps more akin to a deflated puppy from all his years working in the prison, lacking social experience outside of the prisoners and co-workers he'd dip into conversation with daily.

strong arms wrap around your waist whilst you're busy measuring out ingredients, your eyes narrowed in focus as your gaze darts between the electronic weighing scales and the flour in your unsteady hands as wriothesley takes to wrapping himself like a koala around your body; he's inseparable from you, unable to stay away for mere moments as if you'll disappear if he doesn't have his rough hands somewhere on your soft body.

"i'm trying to focus..." you huff under your breath, biting your tongue as wriothesley rests his chin on your shoulder, watching your precision intently as the warmth of his breath tickles against your neck. it makes your hairs stand on end but not as much as the gentle kiss he presses to your exposed shoulder. you almost elbow him in the ribs for the minor distraction.

"i can see that," he chides with a grin, brushing his stubble against your skin and you really can't say no when a trail of kisses litters your skin from your shoulder to your collarbone and neck, "happy valentines day, darling."

"happy valentines day," you sigh softly, giving up on your endeavour to measure ingredients successfully under these circumstances. you place the opened bag of flour down, leaning back onto his chest in defeat, "i hope you choke on these sugar cookies later."

wriothesley chuckles, his thumbs rubbing rhythmic patterns on your hips where his hands are positioned, holding onto you tightly to stop some manic villain possibly ever stealing you; hey, it's possible! the man lets out a content exhale, appreciative of the warm comfort you give him outside of the gruelling job he'd thrown himself into for a living, "i love you, i really do."

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

© thexianzhoujade 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[seikkoi]

ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜰɪᴠᴇ [1, 2, 3, 4] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 9.8k

There isn’t any conversation surrounding Pepper’s visit, or the divorce, but it’s all around you regardless.

Random items disappear from the penthouse–a Pollock (your present takes its place), some throw pillows from the study, and a few Turkish ceramics you never knew existed. The phone rings far more than you care for. Tony has far more meetings than you care for. A bespeckled lawyer and his blonde associate nearly become housemates, spending hours behind the frosted glass door. Natasha makes a few appearances as well, which confuses you the most. You find the spice in her perfume too bold.

On her third exit in as many weeks, you question Tony on it. He absently traces patterns on your calves, seemingly not paying attention to you or the film on screen. 

“Should I be worried?” you hide your sincerity behind a glass of wine, twirling the stem between your fingers. The red liquid mirrors the motion inside, spidering against the walls.

“About Natasha?” he asks incredulously. 

“Yes,” you draw out, “and you–all of it, really.” 

“Now why on Earth would you be worrying about me?” 

You would love to point out the obvious and address the building-sized elephant in the room that says  ‘you’re recently sober and just got a divorce’ but the look on his face tells you it’s unnecessary. 

Tony finds a way to answer the unasked anyways. 

“It’s a shit ton of paperwork, and signing things, so it’s annoying, yes but I am fine. Scouts honor.” 

He kisses your hand and grins with all the confidence in the world. It’s so fucking arcane each time–close to magic in how it undos every worry and mirrors his gleam. 

You wished it had more permanent effects. Something long-lasting and memorable. Easy to spread over the evening and into the early morning hours, when he’s inconsolable in your arms. You could turn it back into magic words. Banish whatever miasma racked his body and go back to peaceful nights (because you had those at some point, right?).

Being able to ask the hard questions doesn’t mean shit if the answer’s always a dismissive work of fiction. You never learned what caused their separation, or sent ‘everything to shit’ as Tony put it. Not because you didn’t ask, no that question came the same night Pepper did.  Apparently it’s the same driver of every modern American divorce–money. Tony summarizes the event as a fatal disagreement over corporate shares, though like always you feel you’re being told an official story. Clean cut with all messy details chopped away. 

“You don’t have a signature stamp at this point?” you joke.

“Oh no,” Tony’s hands brace your ankles to pull you closer, “ every squiggle needs to be authentic and fresh.”

“Right, how could I assume anything less.” Your eyes roll but you let your legs drape over his lap. 

“Seriously, I’m doing fine–things will calm back down soon.” A gentle squeeze drives the point home. 

A thought crosses your mind. An insecurity, really, but one you haven’t let go since meeting Pepper.

“If it’s like, I don’t know,” you hesitate under Tony’s raised eyebrow, “–I can head back to my apartment if it’s too much.”

Stark Industries was still footing the bill even though you spent less than 10 hours there in the last two months. There’s a fear in overstaying your welcome, or whatever it is you were doing here. Either way, you figured it was less than ideal to have your girlfriend around during a divorce. 

“If what’s too much?” 

“I don’t know, if you need your space right now or–” you answer exasperatedly.

“Honey,” he gives a hearty laugh, “if I ever start asking for space, call a doctor.”

All resistance becomes futile.

You keep your apartment (for unnecessary security), but more time lapses between visits. You issue a long overdue farewell to bartending. Even being driven, the commute to that side of town is hellish and the whole thing got more pointless with each day. You drank in the fruits of this life, but not without a tiny bit of unease. It’s unease that you bury down under all the other feelings. The affection, the simplicity, the serenity. So you swap mixers for paintbrushes and solitude for the man you love. 

Other subtle changes require a quicker adjustment, but you’re getting dangerously good at adapting. With Tony’s birthday past, you recognize a pattern to Harley’s visits. Every three months like clockwork. You begin to anticipate them well enough, and start appreciating his occasional presence during your early morning tea. By his third appearance, you brew two cups.

On the first visit he barely utters a word. You were ready for some witty insult that never came, and offered him a cup in silence. You want to ask why he arrives so early just to sit in his father’s kitchen, but opt for peace instead. 

Once Pepper’s placard is gone in the parking garage and Natasha stops showing up (at all hours of the day, atleast), he’s there a second time. 

“How he’s doing with the,” he trails off, peering at you over an empty mug as the sun starts to break. He doesn’t need to motion at the empty space for you to pick up his meaning.

The official story is dancing on your tongue. The one you’ve told two times over at this point (Jarvis, Natasha). He's perfectly fine, better even. It was a piece of cake then, but now you can’t seem to look Harvey in the eye and speak in half-truths. 

“Honestly,” you sigh, “Good–not good, I don’t know.”  You were dying under  the irony of it all. Consoling Tony in the darkness of morning and then watching him make million dollar deals by noon. You don’t know how he’s managing any of it, and if any of this qualifies as okay. 

Green eyes blink slowly through an overgrown fringe. Barbers were clearly scarce in the last three months, wherever he spent them. Exhaustion forces a yawn before he speaks again, pinching his nose. 

“Figured as much.” Harley stands for the sink.

He goes through the labor of washing the ebony cup, a rare quirk amongst the obscenely rich. You’d learned they are very reliant upon their quiet servants. You wondered if he did it out of modesty or good manners.  

“Do you know why they separated?” If he was in the mood to talk about Tony, you weren’t going to pass up the chance.

“Uh, something with the company, her share or whatever. Always about the money with them.” he answers casually, tossing a look over his shoulder. 

It’s genuine enough, but all too similar to the rehearsed lines. You half-expected him to call you nosy. 

“No real loss there.” Harley adds, a hint of disdain in his voice

“Not a fan I take it?” The flimsy tag finally crumbling under your ministrations.

He chortles as he slumps back into the bar stool. 

“Pepper can be, uh,” A yawn and an eye rub take precedence, “overbearing, yeah that’s a good word for it.”

“Yeah, can’t imagine that worked well for Tony.” You murmur into your tea.

“Oh it most definitely did not.” Harley laughs again. “Not for a guy that does the opposite of whatever you tell him.”

His laugh is infectious (like father like son), and you smirk even though instead the mental picture makes you cringe. A lull passes between you. Outside, morning traffic begins, trickling upwards to interrupt the quiet. It cues Harley to get back to whatever it is he comes here to do, while you move on with the day. 

As an advantage of all the free time, you get to invest more time in your estranged friendships. Being around old friends turned out to be surprisingly good. You had anticipated more awkwardness, but there was something comforting about not having to wear a mask for once around someone besides your boyfriend. 

At this point, you slowly filled in a few close ones about your relationship with Tony. Clearly you were in this for the long haul, and keeping things under wraps was becoming futile. The general consensus was positive, thankfully. Obviously, that’s due to a great deal of details being omitted. The act left a sour taste in your mouth. Not from the content–how easy it was. You hated to repeat such behaviors, but it was less complicated this way. You wouldn’t have to labor through justifying your relationship, or hear concerns you didn’t already have. 

Tony’s reception was, oddly, less positive. He didn’t care much for your old ‘starving artist’ clique. He thought you should take advantage of his access to New York’s greatest–the real pioneers. It took little arguing from you for him to drop that thought entirely, and he conceded to just be happy to see you happy. 

Like good friends, they tease about your newfound love. One asks when they’ll get to meet ‘Mr. CEO’ and you have to brush it off casually. You like your worlds better separate. 

A sweltering autumn soon becomes frostbitten winter. This gives you less light to work with, resorting to find shuddering shoulders in complete darkness. You don’t think it’s worth searching for warmer pastures or a simpler life. No, you order a cashmere robe and get used to seeing by touch. 

Late nights in the tower turn out to be a great place to hone such skills. The halls are narrow and void of any windows, so you ghost the pads of your fingers around for customary shapes. A cushioned nook and a neglected book lull you into a nap one evening and you wake past the sunset. If you were able to sleep so late undisturbed, Tony must be preoccupied. You planned to tiptoe into the kitchen without a sound, but your ears catch words murmured behind the glass. The door is cracked slightly, just enough to let a streak of light breaks across the hardwood floor

“–fifteen, ten, maybe if we’re lucky.” 

The bespeckled man’s words are measured, precise as usual. You can almost picture his lips barely parting to utter syllables behind round-trim frames. 

“Jesus christ–the fuck am I paying you for? Because I am paying you, like a metric shit ton” 

At Tony’s voice, you press closer. 

“I’m not the idiot getting a divorce.”

“Okay, okay, let’s just stay focused here.” Natasha raises her voice above the two men, and you hear a chair drag across the office.

“Uh-uh, don’t think you’re getting off scot free–we wouldn’t even be having this conversation if you did your job a tad better too.” 

“I will say it was ‘lot easier to spread the financials between two people.” 

Social norms concerning privacy start to get to you, urging your feet to pivot and take you back upstairs. Your escape goes undetected, and you seek refuge in the shower. 

You wash the day away under warm jetstreams. Part of your mind is stuck replaying everything, wondering how he was handling it all, trying not to indulge in the urge to check the sink drawer. In a flash, you toss the thought away. It’s easy to not overthink at this hour. Especially when coconut vanilla soap tugs you back towards exhaustion. You make it back out to the bedroom, where you find Tony removing his shoes at the end of the bed.

He smiles at the crack of light from the bathroom. Tony’s days were getting longer while the rest of the hemisphere’s got shorter. He would say he missed when life was simple, but he can’t remember such a time. Life growing up was anything but simple, then the older he got the more it sucked out every ounce of his energy. Everything after became, well, everything after.

Picturing a new future keeps him going. One in a coastal city, something global like New York but much, much warmer. He fights the urge to picture your silhouette amongst the waves. It’s not guaranteed. He might find himself in this dreaded cycle all over again. Then his coconut scented fantasy would be tarnished. 

No, it’s better to cherish the present with you. Like right now, watching coconut scented water droplets descended down your legs and shoulders. Even though he knows he won’t be here long. Truly, he’d wish you weren’t awake,  knowing he’d have to leave soon.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You teased, abandoning your towel as you pulled the dresser open.

He’s easy to rile up, and you know exactly what you’re doing–bending over slowly to pull your panties above your hips. You can’t help it when he stares like it’s his first time seeing you, every time. 

“Please don’t tempt me.” 

Tony’s voice is low, barely above a whisper. He’s unmoving on the edge of the bed, hands braced beside his thighs as his eyes follow the movements of your hands around lacy black fabric. Truly he’s perplexed. Who knew watching someone get dressed would be just as much of a turn-on. Or maybe it’s just you.

You toss one of his faded band tees on, and he thinks this might actually be better than any sun-soaked dream (it’s definitely just you). 

You cross the bedroom, the loose cotton brushing against your skin with each step. As you approach, you snake your arms around Tony's neck and straddle his lap. His large hands ghost up the smooth skin of your thighs, leaving a trail of warmth as they make their way to your back. The moment your skin touches his, Tony’s eyes lock onto yours, but you can tell his focus is elsewhere.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask softly, raking your hands through brown coils.

You assume his mind is still on the conversation downstairs, but the grin spreading on his face says otherwise. His lips move to pepper your exposed neck with kisses, still smiling.

“Really wanna know?” 

“Sure, hit me.”

The ghosts across your veins turn into full blown grazes. 

“You, in a bikini, drinking margaritas somewhere with no extradition laws.” 

You chuckle at the notion and swat his shoulder when his teeth find your pulse point. 

“Hey, you asked,” he laughs into your skin, gripping your hips tighter, “besides it’s your fault–’smell like I’m damn near there already.” 

Tony’s mouth turns hungrier and hungrier, moving feverishly across every exposed inch until the flesh is tender and you're panting in his lap. It’s just encouragement, so he doesn’t pause for a moment as his fingers slip behind your lace. They work at the wetness already ruining the fabric, dragging it across your length and making your shiver. 

Okay, sure, maybe another period of minimal alone time was getting to you, maybe. Sue me, you thought. Honestly, Tony should be more grateful to have such a willing partner–and you told him as much. Unfortunately, this elicited a need for Tony to instill a sense of gratitude in you.

In the next second, you're tossed onto your back, wrists pinned tightly above your head. His other hand pulls your panties down your legs and you try not to make a joke about the futility in getting dressed. Instead, you soak his weight against you, the roaming hand between your thighs and teeth on your neck. 

Marking you is the obvious goal-sucking harder with each breathy whimper. He wasn’t kidding earlier, either. You smelled good enough to devour and he intended on doing so. His danced along your folds, a cufflink scratching the supple skin at the top of your thigh.  They are never anywhere long enough to give you any real pleasure. Just to take more breath from your lungs and feeling from your legs. 

You squirm against vicuna dress pants, trying to gain more friction on his hand. Instead of catering to your needs, he stops all together and the noise you make is almost pathetic. Who are you kidding, it’s fully pathetic–it couldn’t have been over two weeks, and pleas can hardly form on your tongue for more. 

Tony reels back with a smirk that flips your stomach. A scheme is brewing behind darkened pupils. His eyes stay on you as his hand returns to your center, slow and heavy over your clit. 

He doesn’t relent when your wrists strain and hips buck against him. No, a tighter grip and knee over your hip hold you steady enough for his fingers to work faster. You want to chastise yourself for how much you missed this–then two fingers slide into you and there isn’t room to think of much else.

He moves quickly and silent, like a serpent, finding that perfect rhythm that makes your eyes flutter. Your soft moans fill the quiet space. He’s too steady, not changing a muscle as your peak comes closer. The most desperate you get, writing against his palm to get even one extra inch of depth, the slower he moves. 

“Did you have fun sneaking around?” 

Your eyes flutter open in the dim bedroom, Tony’s sly grin shining above you. It cuts straight through the fog of pleasure taking you over. 

“I don’t know what you’re–” you start to bluff. 

“You’re not very sneaky, you know? Or a good liar. That’s a particular skill set that you, my dear, sorely lack.”  Slow and teasing, he slides two fingers back into you.

“Okay, okay. Maybe I was eavesdropping a little.” He finally moves with purpose again, but of course not enough.

“A little? Let’s not start underrepresenting things, hm?” 

Before you can debate him further, he withdraws and you think you might honestly cry if this continues.

“Okay, point taken, would you please stop torturing me now?” 

“Now, why would I reward bad behavior?” he asked, lowering his gaze.

“If it helps, I wasn’t trying to.”

“It doesn’t.” 

His palms grip your hips, flipping you onto your stomach and lifting your waist upwards. The sudden movement leaves you breathless, searching for balance on your forearms until they’re pulled behind your back. 

“You know exactly which nerve to press, don’t you?” he breathes into the base of your neck, chest flush to your back as he hands work at his zipper.

How ironic, considering he spends the next hour tuning your body like an instrument. Knowing exactly where to press, where to ease off, until you finally unlock, bare and moaning into the mattress.

Afterwards, you fall asleep to the steady beat of his heart. 

You’re half way to sleep when Tony slinks out of your arms. At first, you don’t bother stirring. Then, the soft draw of the dresser catches your ear. 

You flip over onto your stomach to get a better view. You watch Tony’s shadowy figure attempt to quietly dress. For a rare sight, he abandons the tailored suit for dark Levis and a t-shirt. It hardly looks like him, in the best way possible (ignoring the obvious question of where the hell he planned on going in that. Less larger-than-life, more real. This, now this was someone you can imagine running into at the grocery store. The sharp edges of his suits always added a degree of gravitas to everything.

“Where are you off to?”

“Going to see a man about a horse.” 

He leans down for a bright smile and a quick kiss before he leaves, and you let sleep suppress any thoughts about what that could possibly mean.

You awake to a sun that has long outran the horizon. The sheer curtains were already pulled back, with the smell telling you Jarvis made a feast for breakfast. Tony’s side is empty. Which is no surprise there, but you don’t expect him at the kitchen table. 

He grins behind a newspaper as you approach. Jarvis is busy with the espresso machine, muttering curses under his breath. 

“Tell me, what are your thoughts on cyclamen–oo, or actually, narcissus, yeah, that’s better.” Tony asks like you've been having some sort of conversation before five seconds ago.

Jarvis clicks the tamper in with a satisfied click as you stare back confused. You’re two blinks away from falling back asleep and desperately craving something stronger than green tea. 

“What are you-Is-Are those restaurants?” 

“Oh, morning ma’am. Shall I prepare you a tea, perhaps breakfast?” Jarvis turns at the sound of your voice, wiping damp grounds from his hands.

“Good morning, but no, just some coffee, please.” You try to sound natural. It’s weird giving someone else orders. 

“Nope, flowers. We could do something simple like a peony but I don’t think that matches the whole vibe with the satin garlands.” Tony continues. 

“Tony, hon, I have no idea what you’re on about right now.” you groggily slouch in the chair beside him. 

“We, my dear,” the newspaper is folded and plopped onto the table for dramatic effect, “are having a Christmas party. The proverbial ‘we’ in this situation being the company, of course.” 

“A Christmas party?” you muse with a laugh.

“For tax purposes, a gala. For my purposes, and therefore to make it fun, it is indeed a party, yes.” 

Espresso warms your veins as you listen to Tony ramble through plans for catering, guests, decanters and a whole bunch of other shit you can hardly keep up with. Good thing that responsibility falls to Jarvis, who jots away on a worn notepad. Once your eyes fully open, the thought starts to excite you. Your yearly festivities normally boiled down to a bottle of chardonnay and some loosely Christmas film like Die Hard. “Plus, if I auction some art, it works out even more.” He punctuates his brilliant plan with a bite of a muffin. 

“That’s not like a massive trigger for you?” 

High-volume social events dropped off the radar recently, for good reason, you assumed (not that you minded a break from fake smiles and cold handshakes) . Instead, Tony dragged you along to more intimate dinners with whatever broker or councilwoman he needed to charm. Your role as plus-one never went anywhere, but doing so at Tony’s your home would give you more confidence. 

“What are you, my sponsor?” he teases but you're less amused at the thought. 

“You don’t even have a sponsor.” You know so, because Tony believes Narcotics Anonymous is a, quote, ‘sad-ass glorified tea party’. 

“I have Jarvis.” He’s completely serious, and Jarvis hides his laughter behind a stack of plates.  

You don’t want to point out the obvious cognitive dissonance. That a man who spends his nights in petrified somnolence might crack under the pressure of dozens of inebriated colleagues. Not now, in a moment of peace. Not in front of Jarvis. You’re not sure how much sound slips out into the hall.

Tony watches the worry creep over your face from the edge of his newspaper. With a sigh, he abandons it again.

“Look, all you have to do is look pretty–which is no sweat for you, maybe drink a few apple cider cocktails, and relax. I’ve got everything else perfectly handled.”

He gives you a look, both reassuring and decisive. It’s a simple message meant to be taken without debate, ‘trust me’. 

You get one more peaceful morning drinking tea in the dark with Harley before the holiday season.

The event overtakes your life from Thanksgiving onward. You really don’t know how this sudden festive fervor spawns, but it slowly creeps into everything. From the elevator music, to miniature elves by the door, to candy canes everywhere, and more Christmas ties than days in December (you can’t be sure he’s not switching them multiple times a day). 

You weren’t a total Grinch, not by a long shot. Tony just so happened to be creeping into that weird overly festive zone reserved for suburban moms and kindergarten teachers. 

“Tony, what’s all of this?”

Vivaldi plays faintly on the record player. There’s a delicately placed mistletoe just off of the elevator, accompanied with a haphazard trail of roses leading out onto the balcony. You navigate through a candlelight kitchen juggling a heavy box of resin. 

“Tony?” you call out again once the box makes contact with the counter,

“Out here!” 

You follow the voice and rose trail to the balcony. Unsurprisingly, he’s donning a god awful Christmas sweater, grinning and pointing to the wool like it’s runway fashion. A small table holds two covered silver platters, and a tall bottle of champagne rests in a bucket of ice. It’s the kind of overtly romantic display you’d gotten since night one, but it never fails to sink your breath straight in your heart. Something about the way he’s standing there, beaming like a nervous, lovestruck fool, tells you this isn’t just a normal gesture of affection.

Still, your lips part to thank him, but he stops you instantly. 

“Just wait–” he pleads, “I got like thirty minutes of practice into saying this and I can’t fuck it up.” 

His voice is rushed enough that you believe. Clearly the words were threatening to jump out of him. It sets you a bit on edge, trying to anticipate what this was about. You indulge him anyway and nod. 

Tony crosses the balcony to take your hands in his, thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

“Okay, I know things haven’t been copacetic around here. And I know I’ve asked for a lot–more than I ever thought I would–and you know sometimes it feels like I’ll never be able to return what you’ve given to me, but I swear I’m going to make this worth it.” 

He squeezes your palm, tired brown eyes searching yours for something, any sign that his words meant a single thing. It’s a fast-winded speech that makes you wanna laugh at the irony. Tony, the man who’d move the stars if they had a price tag, somehow feeling the need to repay you.  Yet his voice is raw like a frayed nerve. Exposed to the cold winds whipping against the tower glass. 

“Tony, you’ve made it more than worth it, everyday.” You smile, though it’s worth wondering what’s driving him to say all this. The words ring true regardless.

“Not nearly enough,” he says softly, “but I’m going to–I’m going to give you the world.”

In that moment, you see it: the weight of everything he’s been carrying. Your ribs seem to tighten inside your chest. That unspoken fear you’ve both been trying to avoid–it was far easier twenty seconds ago when you thought it was yours alone. You realize now that the fearless man you saw in fact was scared of something (losing you, primarily). Yeah, you comforted him through nightmares, but even then he managed to carry an aura of control.  

This wasn't about  holding onto the life you’ve built together, the one that’s felt so fragile lately. And for the first time, you see how much that matters to him, too.

He starts to say something else, dropping your hands. His fingers fiddle behind his back, seemingly nestled in his back pocket. He stares like he intended to say something else, lips parting and closing right back. In the next second, he seems to shift gears, pulling you into a hug. 

You welcome the warm embrace, as the chill has started to gnaw at your bones. He plants a kiss to the top of your head, and you want to stay in that feeling for the rest of your life.

Sadly, he does eventually pull away to admit dinner on the balcony would be quite miserable, and the two of you move inside. 

You could spend the rest of the evening overthinking about what all that meant, but you don’t bother. Why go through that mental labor, when instead you could drink $500 champagne, carefree while your handsome boyfriend flirts with you like it’s the first date. 

You don’t think about it then, or later in the night when your legs are pressed to your chest and you can’t recall a single thing he said. You focus on what he’s saying then–filthy words about who you belong to, and exactly where you belong–a whimpering mess underneath him.

Even when it turns possessive (more so than usual), when your throat is littered with marks and his hand stands to leave another on his hip, you don’t think of it. But it’s the only thing on Tony’s mind. When another orgasm rips through you, all he can think about is how much he needs you. He whispers ‘you’re mine’ over and over and over as you fall apart just so your broken moans can still echo–so he can hear just how true it is. How could you, with such a dutiful guide at the helm?

Afterwards, when you’re drained of every ounce of life, it still doesn't bother you. You don’t wonder if tonight might be another night he slips into plain clothes and disappears until sunrise. You can’t muster a single thought as his arm slinks around your waist to pull you closer. 

You simply close your eyes, and let sleep take you. 

Eventually the days tick by to the gala, and you’re somewhere between impressed and overstimulated with all the ensuing holiday glamor. 

Though, you can’t say he doesn’t go all out. 

The first floor of Stark Industries is transformed from a cold minimalist space to Ebenezer Scrooge's worst nightmare. A makeshift stage sits at one end, complete with enough tinsel to suffocate a horse and twinkling garlands. Piles of fake snow anoint the corners, and a particularly large one sits beneath a 12-foot tall Christmas tree in the middle of the lobby. The open bar even serves drinks in frosted holiday glasses. He even has the guards wearing reindeer ears. 

By ten p.m. the vast floor seems smaller than a shoebox, packed with guests in evening gowns and tailored tuxedos. Initially, you’d planned on wearing a new piece for the gala–something to make the overwhelming festivity Tony demanded. Once it came time to get dressed, your eyes caught the sanguine dress. You hadn’t gotten the chance to wear it since your first date. It had felt too exquisite for any other occasion, but for some reason you were drawn to wear it tonight. 

You wish you could say Tony had a good reaction–or a reaction at all. From sunrise until the doors opened, he’s caught up in planning and preparations. Matter of fact, you were two hours into the gala and had only seen glimpses of him shaking hands in the crowd. It takes away from the expected familiarity. You imagined this night to be simple, easy for you to blend it with Tony on your arm, in his home your home. Instead, you wander like a lost gazelle, feeling every pair of eyes on you. You want to blame the dress. Revealing and bright red.

In the blurry swarm of faces, bright auburn stands out. Natasha wouldn’t be your first pick, but she’s the only familiar face and you need a respite.

You squeeze in next to her at one of the corner tables. The spice of her perfume permeates your nose but you can look past it for the moment. She pays you no mind at first, legs crossed and head turned to the crowd. You don’t mind one bit. It’s quieter towards the back, and you have no issue with it staying that way. 

Natasha sighs deeply, almost in boredom, maybe annoyance, but not with you. 

“I don’t know how you stand him.”

“How do you figure?” you respond absently, picking apart at a stray piece of tinsel.

“One of the richest men on Earth-I know he’s got the ego to match it.”

“You’d know better than I would, wouldn’t you?” you answer. You’d gotten the sense Natasha and Tony back way further than him and Pepper a while ago,

“Touche, but I’m not dating him.” she shifts to take another sip from her glass, “though, I’m not really sure why you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you really love him, or are you just after a family fortune?” Emerald eyes points like knives, her tone blending from casualty to scorn.

“W-what,” you stammer, “Of course I love him–Tony pursued me.”

“Please, he’d pursue anything with a pulse,” Natasha chuckles, “and relax, I’m just finally getting around to doing my due diligence.” 

“Your ‘due diligence’ is being a cunt?”

“Ooh! I see you’re a feisty one–you did sit here after all, you know.” she muses.

“Just needed a break from the crowd,” you mummer, rising. 

“Stay then–relax, like I said.” she gestures towards your now-empty seat. When you sigh and retake your place, she smiles. “I like you, you know.”

“We’ve barely spoken.” you declare, a dry chuckle spewing alongside. 

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know a smart person when I see one.” 

“Smart?”

“Smart decisions, going out with Tony, not screwing that up, though I’ve been told you’ve come close a few times.”

“Who–”

“This isn’t an interrogation, like I said, I like you–I don’t really care what happens between you two.”

“Then what is this?” you flag the nerdy tuxedoed waiter for a glass of water. 

“You said it yourself, we’ve barely spoken. My job is to keep Tony’s business running smoothly, and that’s become a lot harder since he won’t make a single decision without considering the ‘y/n’ of it all.” 

You scoff, unimpressed. “We don’t talk about his business.”

“Oh, I know,” Natasha remarks, “A bartender has no idea how to run a billion dollar corporation, and even less of an idea how to advise one.” 

“This is the part where you tell me I have no business being with him, right?” The waiter drops off a tall pitcher of water for you both. Once your glass is full, he passes along a message that Tony’s speech starts soon. 

“Dear god no,” Natasha laughs, “I imagine you’ve heard that enough–and he’s much more pleasant since you came around. Besides, you’re living the dream.” 

“Is that so?” You have to give a laugh of your own (considering you had a bit of jealousy buried for her). 

“Oh yes, filthy rich, live in a penthouse, never work another day in your life, loving husband–maybe not my dream, but still a dream.” 

You don’t know if she’s trying to be funny but your next laugh is genuine, and she joins in.

“What is your dream, then?” you question.

Natasha’s grin stiffens, surprised. Contemplation passes for a second and you worry that you’ve underdone the last three minutes of camaraderie. 

“Ballet teacher–but that stays at this table.” She gives you a matching pointed look.

“My lips are sealed.” You do try not to giggle, but it’s odd to imagine her frigidity in a warm lit studio surrounded by tutus. 

“Did you mean it, what you said about Tony? That things are...okay?” Natasha asks, referring to Tony’s sobriety. It’s weird how everyone dances around it, especially someone so usually straightforward as her. 

It was weeks ago when you parroted that claim. And you only call it that because the question annoys the fuck out of you. It’s entirely subjective, and you give in to the optimistic look in their eye and tell them what they want to hear. He’s fine, better even.

Maybe it’s because she’s being nice, or because you already gave up this facade with Harley, but you can’t be bothered to pretend you know what’s going on with him all the time. Besides, clearly you weren’t doing a good enough job for her to ask you about it again

“I want to say yes, but I don’t know, I guess?” you admit, staring into the crowd. 

Natasha’s mouth parts to speak again, only to have the microphone’s feedback interrupt her. The host–some Nobel prize winning chemist Tony invited to pull donors–clears his throat before starting his introduction, and the noise draws to a lull. Natasha excuses herself, presumably to find Tony before his speech. You decide to stay at the back of the lobby, with a good enough view of the stage. 

Supposedly this entire sordidly festive affair had a true business purpose, some big announcement Tony was making on the ‘future of the company’. He didn’t explain much more than that, and you’re certain the technical logistics were beyond you anyway. 

After a long, boring welcome, the mic is passed off to Tony. It’s the first time today you’ve been able to see him fully–draped in a jet black tuxedo and bright red bowtie. 

It whines again in his grip, and Tony pauses once the cheers die down, glancing at the expectant faces below. Thick cards press into his palm, each written meticulously inked by Natasha last night He clears his throat, glancing out past the lights into the crowd. He hopes they can’t see how heavy the stillness starts to weigh on him like before. The sudden quiet, all that attention. Including yours, somewhere out there. His heart stalls at how must look to you up here. Larger than life probably, or maybe you weren’t looking at all (he hopes you aren’t). A hundred odd pairs of eyeballs, and he hides from yours. 

Tony knew what he had to do, and was quite confident in his choice. But he can’t risk looking you in the eye while he does it. Ironically, his decision had very little to do with you, and everything to do with Pepper. The edge of his mouth still twitches. 

“Tonight…” he starts, turning the twitch into a warm smile, “…I’ve asked you all to be here in celebration, to celebrate Stark Industries, and talk about the future of the company,” He clears his throat, rolling his shoulders as if trying to loosen some unseen knot.

There’s a small, brief ripple of confusion among the front of the room, murmurs. Something shifts in his expression—just a flash—before his eyes catch something and harden. A gesture is made to the guard at the end of the stage. His hand tightens around the mic.

“To keep things transparent,” he says, stuffing the cards into his pocket, “the real reason I threw this party, asked you all to be here, is because I want everyone to see how much this means to be.”

Your ears perk up. Natasha swears under her breath, glancing at you before sharply leaving the table, tapping away at her phone. Tony can’t hide from your gaze anymore, and he finds your confused face in the back corner. Before you think about a path to escape, the crowd follows his attention, taking their eyes from the billionaire to the nobody fiddling with tinsel alone.

“I want to celebrate the love I have for this woman, and take this opportunity to share it with everyone.” 

What the hell is he doing?, you think. He can't be doing this here, like this. 

“The truth is,” he pauses, feeling his phone buzz off the hook (most certainly Natasha telling him to stop), “I’m getting married, and Stark Industries will be welcoming a new partner in its operations.”

The room erupts in a chorus of oos and awes, all to the tune of your racing heart. It takes you a second to process. He means getting married to you. You never even talked about marriage, the future, anything like that. Yeah, maybe in passing the idea came up, but at no point did you accept a marriage proposal. 

Everything feels nauseatingly blurry after. Random individuals come over with their congratulations, while half the crowd stares and the other half still bothers to listen to the rest of Tony’s speech. It’s a bunch of nonsense about restructuring and profits, and you’re too confused, pissed, and too fed up with fake smiles to bother standing around to listen. 

You suffer through two more superficial conversations about the marriage you were only made privy a few minutes ago. Finally, you escape to the restroom. You find an empty stall to hide in, trying to process what was going through Tony’s mind.

He couldn’t be serious, could he? This wasn’t real–it was some ploy or tactic. He didn’t genuinely intend to marry you. You didn’t like to think of the long-term for the same reasons you didn’t think about the short-term. This was unpredictable, you learned that. You learned to be okay with that. You could soak in the pleasures indefinitely without ever worrying about how it might all end. This, this brought it into a sharp focus you weren’t ready for. 

You’re not even certain he’s fully divorced yet. 

Once your palms finally dry, and the threat of a panic attack fades, you step out of the restroom. You don’t even know what to think, and the sterile walls weren’t helping. Glancing back toward the gala, you spot Tony scanning the room—until his eyes find yours. You don't hold his gaze long; instead, you turn sharply toward the elevator. You hear your name faintly called from somewhere behind, but you keep moving down the hall, ignoring it.

He breaks into an awkward jog to catch you. You keep your eyes forward.

“[Y/N], look I know this wasn’t what you were expecting, and I can explain I just need–” he starts,

“You’ve lost your fucking mind, Stark,” Natasha heels stomp angrily down the hall, stepping in front you to point her finger in Tony’s face, “what the hell are you doing?”

“Alright, alright, not you right now–cut it out!” He smacks her hand away flippantly, “I’m not entirely sure you and Matt haven’t been drinking the kool-aid either.” 

Tony huffs and straightens his bowtie and you step back from Natasha’s heat. Behind the three of you, someone gets their hands on a karaoke machine and a terrible rendition of Santa Baby follows.

“The whole point of this bullshit was to go public and get out of this shit so explain to me how this gets us anywhere closer to that?” She grits.

Tony throws his hands in the air, “Maybe it doesn’t, but your dumbass plan wasn’t any better.”

“You think marrying her is going to help you? You know I was joking when I said that, right?” 

Suddenly, a spotlight seems to beam over you. Neither party stops their death glare to fully acknowledge you. That wasn’t a proposal–you were just some pawn in their game.

You don’t even know what the hell they’re playing for.

“This is a great time to remind you who signs your checks.” 

Only then do her eyes bother to glance at you. 

“This isn’t gonna end well, and you know it.” She concedes, still stern. After that, she stomps back off into the crowd. 

Tony turns towards you, but you're already back at the elevator, watching the buttons finally reach L.

“[Y/N], please–” 

The doors ding open and you don’t stop to hear anymore. Despite your feverous attempt to close the doors, Tony makes his way inside. The door just barely misses his coattail, to your annoyance.   

Even worse, and completely on par for the evening, the jingle bells elevator music plays the moment the doors shut. 

A hard, awkward beat passes. You’re pinching the bridge of your nose, sparsely emptied of any more energy for this night (mentally or otherwise). 

“You look fucking stellar, by the way, love that dress–”

“Tony.”

“Right, you’re right, sorry.”

Neither of you spare another word from the elevator to the bedroom. Tony follows behind, closing the door softly as you toss your earring onto the dresser. You’re waiting for him to speak again. Explain, deflect–hopefully just explain, but he doesn’t. He sits at the end of the bed, eyes trained to you in the mirror. 

“Why didn’t you ask me? Alone? Before today?” you sigh, “

“I wanted to, I was going to, the other night on the balcony I just–” he answers quickly, but trails off in a way that has you turning to face him instantly.

You don’t doubt that for a second. Truthfully, the level of effort and random heartfeltness of the night gave you some clue. But, when it never came you just chalked it up to Tony being Tony. Painfully romantic in most conditions. 

“You just what, didn’t want to?” There’s anger, though you know it's hypocritical. 

“No I just,” he exhales, dragging his fingers through slicked back hair, “I knew you’d say yes.”

“You knew I’d say yes? What the hell does that mean?” Your necklace joins the rest of your jewelry with a loud clink. 

“This is coming out all wrong–”

“You think?” The six inch heels are the next thing to go, throwing haphazardly in the closet. Tony rises to cut you off in front of the door, eyes pleading for understanding you’re not sure you have. 

“I saw the look in your eye, I’d done so much to make sure you’d say yes in that moment because I needed you to–not because I wanted it and that wasn’t the way it was supposed to go.”

“You don’t know that I’d say yes.”

“You would,” he says with that practiced charm, all sunny but hollow. A trademark Stark move—confidence teetering on arrogance. When you hesitate, he’s ready with another word, a gaze intense enough to hypnotize. “You know you would.”

You laugh, looking away as if it’s absurd. “Are you really so sure?”

His hand slips into yours, gentle but firm, thumb brushing across your knuckles in a way that makes it seem like he’s talking to you, only you, and not the thousand voices in his head screaming at him to get this done. 

“I know you’re scared, but” he says, leaning into your warmth. “Don’t leave me hanging here, please.”

“You sound so desperate, it’s kind of sad.” 

But there’s a softness to your voice now, a hint that he might be getting through. For a moment he was worried he wouldn’t be able to get away with this again, that you’d learned all his tricks since the boutique. 

It’s enough of a crack in your resolve for him to keep pushing. He slips closer, voice low. 

“Look, I know I keep asking a lot of you, but, There’s a pause, just long enough to let the ache in his voice sit, before he adds, “this could fix everything, everything can be okay.”

There’s a sliver of doubt in your eyes, and that’s what he clings to. 

“And when was the last time everything was okay, Tony?” You watch him in the bureau’s mirror. 

 “It could be. All I need for you to do is say yes, so I can fix this,” He squeezes your hand, the hint of desperation all but veiled now. 

And when you finally exhale, when that flicker of sympathy slips in, he knows he’s won.

It’s good enough. Better than he hoped, honestly. The relief slides into him like a tonic, loosening the tight lines in his jaw. He keeps his hand on yours, knowing the warmth of it will serve to distract from the creeping dread, from the hollow pit that’s been widening ever since the stakes got so high he couldn't see the top of them.

For Tony, this is all still just a means to an end. One step closer to true liberty and the life he was supposed to have. If he had to lie and disappoint–cheat and charm, then he’d do it. It would be worth it. In the end, the sum of his achievements would outweigh his sins.

He reminded himself of that a month ago, the night before he decided to have the gala. When the bedroom door closes, a sigh of relief escapes. He was lucky that you didn’t catch the conversation with Matt and Natasha in full. What he had in the works was sensitive, and he couldn’t have that ruined by anyone knowing the details in advance. He couldn’t lose you again, not when he needed you most. 

There is a shred of guilt as the elevator whirs down to the garage. You’re probably thinking the worst, understandably, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Only to pray his love was enough to placate you for now. 

Especially when he doesn’t even want to fucking do this. Each day seems to come at the loss of his autonomy, another suit on his payroll telling him what’s best for his life. It’s more deplorable when the people closest to him come up with the shittiest ideas to fix this. He can truly thank Pepper for his recent migraines (and a bunch of old ones). Filing for divorce was quite a move to try to get what she wanted, and throw him to the mercy of the Securities and Exchange Commission at the same time. If you listen to Matt, Tony’s mere minutes away from a cold cell. If you listen to Nat, Tony’s plummeting stock will be the sealer of his fate. And as of right now, two of the smartest people he knows can’t come up with anything that doesn’t come at the cost of you or his company. And he can’t live with either. 

Since, both their solutions arguably suck, he tells a lie or lack thereof to find a third opinion. Or a hail mary. However it’s called, it’s a long shot that he can’t be certain won't jeopardize him even more. 

The drive to Hudson Valley is peaceful, to the point he forgets his world is on fire. It’s late, or early, depending on who you ask. Few cars grace the road and he finds solace in the solitude. The radio is ignored for the repetitive rumble of the tires, until paved tar turns into rough gravel. 

When Pepper sent over the address, he wasn’t too surprised. She always rambled about moving out of the city, dreaming of cabins in the woods and sprawling hills. Tony could never wrap his head around living anywhere else. In retrospect, that was another early omen. They never even shared the same dream. 

He can’t say it doesn’t look impressive. A dark a-frame that strikes beautifully against the earthen spruce. Maybe that is why she had him drive all the way out here and not somewhere in the city. Part of masterplan to show him what she presumes he’s missing out on. 

The porch lights flicker on once he parks, and he makes his way up the stone path to find Pepper sitting just outside the door. She’s preoccupied with a thick novel, acknowledging Tony with the raise of a finger. 

It’s strange, being alone with her for the first time in years. She’s not dressed in Valentino but tattered college sweats he had forgotten about. Seeing her at the penthouse all those months ago was troubling, but this was different. Here, it’s too quiet. Even though he’s a few paces away from the table, he can hear the tension of her nails against the pages–the swirl of wind through her hair. Sure, she can’t control the environment but he knows this is a calculated move too. To make him wait, make him uncomfortable. Every other sense sharpens in the absence of constant noise. Norway spruce and duplicity. 

He’s losing his nerve and he needs this over. 

“Why the hell’d you make me drive this far out anyway?” He tries to keep a level voice, knowing she wouldn’t hesitate to use his irritation against him. 

“It’s the one place I’m certain your little spy hasn’t found yet.” she murmurs.

Okay, fine, so he’d used his son to spy on his ex-wife. Big deal, he couldn’t be certain she wasn’t doing the same. Plus, Harley had offered to keep an eye on her. It was a matter of security, not personal (mostly). 

“Can we get on with this?”

“I suppose,” she sighs, tossing the book onto the table. The thud reverberates, stark against the stillness of the valley. “But I’m not sure what it is you want from me–you did call me after all.”

“I did.” And he’s regretting it every second.

“So, what can I do for you?”

“You can start by accepting the deal Murdock sent, and let this be over.” 

Pepper chuckled, crossing her legs. “What are you playing at, Tony?”

“I’m not playing at anything–this needs to be over, you need to move on.”

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffs, “this is all very rich considering you’ve held me in litigation for months, you rejected my offers over and over, so why the sudden change of heart?”

A cold chill and burning annoyance pull him closer to the table. 

“Yes, because I should just give you forty-five percent of my company–I can get it gift-wrapped too if that makes it all the better.”  

“That’s right, your ego won’t let you admit I’m the only reason you have a company to speak of.”

“Can’t you find an ounce of compassion in that gaping pit you call a soul, for me?”

“Such harsh words from someone who needs something from me.” Pepper smirks and stands once the heat recedes from Tony’s face. 

“Take the twenty percent, finalize the papers, and end this, or else there won’t be anything for either of us.”

She circles the table to stop in his view. Tony wishes he had a time machine.

“Let me guess, someone’s under a little heat.” she muses, voice high and dripping in sugary venom.

“Little is an understatement.” He steps back, hands tight in her pockets.

“And why would I give up my shares to help you?”

“This entire thing started with you, and the second it wasn’t convenient you ran. The least you could fucking do is help me out of it.” Tony snapped. 

“Right, and if I don’t?” 

She still laughs, because it’s all a good game to her. Entertaining to see him against the ropes–desperate enough to reach out to her. For once though, it’s calming. It soothes his anger and reminds him why he agreed to this at all. This time, he had an ace up his sleeve.

“Then I’ll tell just that to whoever needs to know–you know I have the evidence. You’ll go down right alongside me.”

In the quiet solace, for a moment, she’s outplayed. Her smile falters and brows crinkle. Truthfully, as much as he’d love to, he could never sell her out. But she had a terrible tendency of assuming the worst of him, and he was banking on that. 

“Please do, I’m sure they’d love to hear what I know about Obadiah.” 

Oh, so that was her ace.

A soft buzz vibrates his back pocket. He doesn’t need omniscience to know it’s you. He can picture it clearly–you, traipsing around the penthouse looking for signs of life. He knows you hate that feeling, and he hates to cause it. 

There’s a more pressing issue; not giving Pepper the emotional reaction she wants.

“You wouldn’t do that.” Spare words from some forgotten bin. 

“Not if you don’t force my hand.” 

A painful pause ensues. The valley’s fauna recognize the tension, silencing out of respect for the sound of Tony’s plan shattering. A true stalemate. Not what he came for, but his throat swells thinking about the aftermath from a war of attrition. 

He can’t let that get out, above all else. That’d be his dissolution. Stark Industries, everything he worked for would vanish. You, without question. You never see him the same again. The crafted image he sought, the life he was creating with you for you, it’d be wasted effort. 

“What’s it gonna take for you to help me?”

After another migraine-causing conversation, Tony slumps into the driver seat, shoulders heavy and eyelids even heavier. Fifteen minutes have passed since your text, and he wonders if it's better not to answer at all. 

[ everything okay?  ]

[ be home soon ]

Ignore. Deflect. Move on.  

The drive back to the city is less pleasant. Actually, it’s a nightmare that he disassociated through the moment he entered the garage. He was, tragically, fucked. There was no telling if he had the capital to replace whatever Pepper took, and he certainly couldn’t risk everything by going public. And if he didn't give Pepper what she wanted, he might be looking at a depressing future behind bars. And that was not an option. 

So he’s at the mercy of the ginger Judas who put him on the path in the first place. Go figure. There’s self-blame for entertaining this option at all. For not guessing she’d snake her way into the upperhand like always. This wasn’t a beast he could defeat with regular tactician and planning. No, he needed to surprise her–usurp her. Piss her off the way she pissed him off. Go against the grain and act in a way that she couldn't predict. Something she couldn’t maneuver around. 

So, when the mic graced his hands, and the coached words on his marriage, the marriage  he never asked you about. The marriage he couldn’t ask you about because he wasn’t ready either. 

He said fuck it, and did it anyway. 

He knew you would’ve said yes then, so you obviously would answer the same afterwards. Even if you were predictably, and understandably pissed, you loved him, and he intended to use that. Grand gestures were his thing after all. A huge public soiree was more on brand than some private dinner. And, he was Tony Stark. The man who got everything he wanted. Why would your hand be any different? Certainly it fell under the same bracket (and really, an argument could be made that he had your loyalty regardless–this was just a title). 

It was justified in his mind the moment the words hit the mic. It just sounds right– Y/N Stark. Like he should have made it that way a long time ago. For a second, the ceaseless pit of vengeance is taken over by something more. 

It;s even easier to justify when he gets a wave of childlike excitement over it. Imagining the ring on your finger, the life he could have with you. Palm trees and salt waves on a remote coast. No more Stark Industries, no more nightmares about cold federal prisons, just you and him. 

Then, in the crowd, he spots what must be Pepper’s lookout. A short, brayish man stays still while dozen roar in congratulatory apologize. Pepper should’ve coached him better, a clear sore loser in a room full of winners. 

The real reason he’s doing this comes back. Tony makes a quick signal to the guard behind him, and moments later the man is escorted upstairs. He used to hate doing this. But he soon learned that humanity gets you nowhere in this business. Still, he almost tells his team to go easy. Then he remembers the cold look on Pepper’s face at the valley while he plead for mercy like a sad dog. 

Fuck that. The man knew the risks. It’s not Tony’s fault they didn’t play in his favor. 

Out of whatever kindness was left, he makes a note to have his body dumped somewhere nice. 

PART SIX SOON

[mci-writing]

heyy~ may i habe, hcs nsfw of senku, tsukasa, and gen fucking their s/o in the kitchen? like senku you guys fucked up something and waiting on an order, tsukasa takes you while youre making breakfast or something, and gen uses cream from a pastry youre making to lick it off your body? thank you ily i hope i did this right lol.

This has been years in the making, huh?

Sexy Kitchen Times (w/ Senku Ishigami, Tsukasa Shishiou, and Gen Asagiri):

TW: smut, modern/no petrification/post petrification au, small bit of bondage in Gen's part (he ties reader's wrists to the bedpost), no beta whoops, overstim in Senku's part, Tsukasa fucks his s/o next to a still hot stove 🤷🏾‍♀️

Ishigami Senku:

You had tried warning him from the get-go that substituting the recipe's ingredients with chemicals from his lab would be a horrible idea (esp when he pulled his Bunsen Burner seemingly out of thin air), but nooo he wanted you to trust the science process bc he was more than 1 billion percent sure it would work

Now you were standing in the middle of a nearly destroyed kitchen while ordering from the noodle place down the block, sending your lover a glare he knows a little too well when science experiments that involve you go horribly wrong

He hugs you from behind after cleaning up most of the mess, burying his face in your neck as he pulls you closer to him

This was what your friends deemed the affection maneuver, a move Senku only makes when he knows he might be sleeping on the couch for the night

"Y'know, it's so sexy when you get mad like this, dragonfruit" He'll teasingly whisper along the shell of your ear, pressing soft kisses into your skin while his fingers rub sensual circles into your hips

And for the moment, you completely forget about the kitchen debacle when his lips meet yours, turning you in his hold and helping you settle on the counter. He tugs your top off between kisses, nipping at whatever skin he can reach while his one of his hands happily move to fondle your chest

And, like always, it ends with you riding his cock (bc his stamina maxed out smh), your hands gripping onto his thighs for dear life as his tip nudges at a certain sensitive spot while he times the delivery guy through calculating the speed of your rocking and the pitch of your moans, who is definitely 10 minutes late this time

Your brain is mush by the time the food does get there, Senku happily coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you with a sweet "Just one more? So I can make it up to you?". It's the closest he can get to you forgetting the whole conundrum and he gets to watch your face shift in overstimulated pleasure

He does still sleep on the couch later that night, but it's only for a couple minutes before you cave and make him eat you out as payback (which you both know is just going to lead to a round of competitive sex, but I'll mind my best)

Asagiri Gen:

You'd already had an idea this would happen when Gen kept making innuendos about the glaze you'd made for your donuts earlier in the day, but a part of you wasn't really taking his words seriously until he'd told you to wait on the bed

I mean, you couldn't really go anywhere with your wrists tied to the bedpost, but you could hear the small happy pep in his step as he made his way back to you with the icing bag nuzzled snuggly in his hold

"Baby, look what I've got," He eagerly coos as he towers over your body, setting his knee beside you as he slides in closer on the bed. He holds the tip over your lips, squeezing enough for a little bit of the sweet concoction to spill out.

After your tongue swipes the small bit away, he gets to work setting a small dollop on each of your sensitive parts, stopping to admire his work once he finishes

He ensures that you've been licked clean of any stick sweet residue by the time he's finished, keeping track that you're thoroughly prepped before nestling into your welcoming heat

And he happily covers certain areas of your body with the cream again before fully allowing himself to go to town, enjoying the way his cum mixes with the sugary substance on your skin

Shishio Tsukasa:

"Ts-Tsukasa..." You manage out in an airy tone, tightly gripping the counter as the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. The small sounds you make as he pushes the head all the way in only make him smirk

He leans forward as he pushes fully inside, taking the time to cut the stove off before his hand softly grips your hips and drags you back against him.

"You shouldn't have teased me so much," He softly states into your ear, tugging on the lower back tie of your apron so it hangs freely from your body by the tie around your neck. His right-hand moves to grab at the plush fat of your ass, a smack sounding as he brings his heavy palm down and squeezes as soon as he gets a good grip on it

He easily slides in and out from the perfect combination of spit and lube, the tight hold on your hip allowing him to push and pull against you as he pleases

Each spill of his name from your lips only encourages him to go faster, the breakfast you'd been hard at work creating forgotten with each deep thrust he made inside, stars clouding your mind

[ninthcircleofprythian]

Boop or Treat

Modern AU - Azris

Warnings - pure sweet Halloween fluff

Word Count - 1k

Author's Note - the boops are back! THE BOOPS ARE BACK! And as with everything that goes through my brain - it usually ends up with some form of Azris. Shout out to @thecutestgrotto for the amazing boop dividers. Enjoy and Happy Halloween! (This is also unedited - we die like men)

The sound of the front door slamming shut stirred Azriel’s attention from his task.

“You’re late,” he boomed as he made his way to the front hallway. “I was nearly about to come looking for you.”

“Sorry,” she huffed as she tossed her backpack into the corner and gathered the shopping bags she had dropped unceremoniously at her feet. “I made a couple stops on the way home. I had an idea.” 

Azriel observed the mischievous twinkle in his teenage daughters’ eye, like a star shining in her dark irises. Scanning over her armload he noticed at least one of the stops was the craft store. 

“This wouldn’t be another costume idea would it?” Az sighed. She had changed her mind on what she was dressing up as at least a dozen times over the last couple weeks. More than one late night was required of him and his help in order to pull off whatever idea she had concocted up that time. 

But the day was here. Today was Halloween.

“This is the one,” she giggled as she led the way into the living room. “It’s genius. It’s perfect. And best of all - we can whip it up in no time.”

The bags were upended into a pile on the coffee table, the supplies spilling haphazardly on its surface. 

“Ok – so here’s the plan,” his daughter started, rubbing her hands together with glee.

A couple hours later, the plan had come to fruition. Azriel had to give it to her, it was indeed a fairly simple idea that didn’t require a ton of time. Genius and perfect however he was still unsure of since he wasn’t exactly fully understanding of what it was, but his kids were excited and that's all that mattered. 

His young son looked up from the project his daughter had tasked him with. “I can still wear my Spiderman costume with this right Papa?” 

“Of course you can,” Az answered with a smile. 

“Yeah bud, anyone can boop,” his sister piped up from her gluing. “Just remember - just like I showed you.”

He scrambled from the floor, donning his modified oven mitt wrapped in bandages. “BOOP!” he cried as he tapped his mitted paw print hand against her forehead before breaking into a fit of giggles.

“Exactly! Perfection,” his sister laughed as she put the finishing touches on her skeleton paw mitt. 

The sound of the garage door opening caught Azriel’s attention. “Dad’s home,” he announced.

“DADDY!” squealed his son as he scurried toward the door.

“Remember the plan!” his daughter bellowed after him as she rose from the floor.

Azriel trailed behind them and joined their formation by the door. Both of them stood not quite still, giggling furiously between them, one arm tucked behind their backs. 

The door swung open just as Az took his place, matching his children’s stance. 

Eris took two steps through the door before stopping dead in his tracks, eyes narrowing as he took in his family standing before him conspiratorially, all wide grins and giggles.

“What’s this?” he questioned as he kicked the door closed behind him. “I thought we were going trick or treating. Where are your costumes?”

“We’re ready,” his daughter said seriously as his son broke into a fresh fit of giggles. 

Eris’ eyes narrowed further as he looked to his partner for some clue of what was happening. His only answer was a shrug and a lopsided smile.

While his attention was diverted, his daughter approached as if she were going to hug him. Eris bent slightly to set down his briefcase before lifting an arm to embrace her. Slipping one arm around him in a side hug, she brought her hidden hand from behind her. Before Eris could fully comprehend the apparatus she was wearing on her hand - it made contact with his face. Squarely in the middle of his forehead. 

“Boop,” she giggled as she pulled away.

“What the -,” Eris sputtered. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” his son interrupted from in front of him. “I have to tell you something!”

“What is it, buddy?” Eris said as he bent lower to his height.

“Come here,” he whispered. “It’s a secret.”

Eris once again locked eyes with his husband, knowing full well at this point that it was some kind of trick. Azriel only nodded towards their son with a look that said “play along”.

“Alright, bud.” Eris whispered back. “What’s the secret?”

Whipping his hand from behind his back he revealed his mummy paw for only a second before it too tapped against Eris’ nose. 

“Boop!” his son whisper yelled before falling to the floor in exaggerated laughter. 

Straightening to stand, Eris stepped towards his husband with a chuckle. “What exactly is going on here?”

“Don’t ask. Just go with it,” Azriel smiled broadly as he leaned in for a kiss. One gentle peck of a kiss was all he got as Az pulled his face back, now giggling himself. 

“What has gotten into you all?” Eris quirked a brow.

The hidden hand that Eris hadn’t even noticed behind his husband's back rose up to meet his gaze. 

“Boop.” Az chuckled as his paw mitt pressed against Eris’ lips. 

Before he could retract his hand fully, Eris grabbed Az’s wrist, inspecting the appendage with curiosity. “What exactly is it?”

“It’s supposed to be a ghost.” Az sighed with a laugh. “The kids needed my help so mine got a little rushed.”

Eris planted one more kiss to Az’s lips, this one lingering a bit longer than before. “As long as they’re happy, I guess,” Eris sighed, smiling. “We should get going before all the good candy is gone,” he announced to the room.

“WAIT!” their son wailed. “I’m still gonna be Spiderman! Let me get my costume!” He scurried off toward the stairs. 

“I’ll get the buckets,” their daughter mentioned as she walked away, slipping a cat ear headband over her head. 

Eris shrugged off his suit jacket before hanging it on the hook. Leaning back against the counter he tipped his head against Az’s shoulder. 

“Happy Halloween,” he said, nestling in a little closer.

Draping one arm over his husband, he leaned his face into Eris' rust colored hair. The silky strands rubbed over Az’s lips as he pecked a kiss to the crown of Eris’ head. “Happy Halloween, my love.”

Taglist -

@mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @chairofchaos @pit-and-the-pen

@prythianpages @c-starstuff-man0

[wannab-urs]

Pedro Pascal Character Fic Recs | Vol 42

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist

Howdy Folks,

guess who's back! I don't know if I'm back to doing these consistently, but I have a hell of a list for y'all. Tags and summaries provided by the author, commentary provided by yours truly.

Mindfuck - Dave one shot by @whatsnewalycat

He said he could rattle the bees from your buzzing honeycomb brain. All you had to do was trust him with this power. So you did. And you do. Your valiant beekeeper meets you at this hotel every other Tuesday night, except on holidays.

Hypnotism, hypnosis-kink, Imperfect Praxis of Hypnosis, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Praise Kink, Smut, unprotected piv, D/s dynamic, Dom Dave, Mindfuck

One of the weirdest things I've ever read, but also one of the best. I was super into this. Mindfucking is WILD.... I'd read more of this universe in a heartbeat

Bittersweet Love - Dieter one shot by @ozarkthedog

Dieter is in recovery from drug addiction, the disease that cost him you. This is his first premiere after getting clean and his first one without you.

angst but with a happy ending! mentions of drug use and alcohol but nothing graphic.

This is such a sweet fic? That might be a weird way to describe it. I just love Dieter getting his shit together and all the good coming his way because of it.

Starlet - Dieter one shot by @whocaresstillthelouvre

Your husband has a big movie premiere, sure he looks great, but his co-star looks even better.

PWP, threesome, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), lesbian fun, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, addiction talk, sober Dieter, Kit Kats, I wrote this for the bi girls.

This fic is a dream, seriously. I want a hot movie star husband to bring pretty movie star women into my bed please and thank you.

Pas de Deux - Din series by @burntheedges

When Din Djarin – principal dancer at Concordia Ballet Company and generational talent in the classical style – suddenly left CBC and joined the Nevarro Ballet Theater mid-season, it shocked the ballet world. You never would have guessed that he would change your life, too.

modern AU, ballet AU, fluff, angst, flirting, dancing, lots of ballet terms (I’ll define things/link videos/etc. -- see below), misunderstandings, character study, romance, pet names (sweetheart, beautiful), lots of tension, later: smut, kissing, grinding, fingering, p-in-v sex, creampie, each chapter will have its own tags, Din lifts reader (see note below about reader)

This is one of the few modern Din AUs I've read, as I tend not to like them, but I can't recommend this enough. I was drawn in by the summary and hooked by the first chapter!

Never Let Me Go - Ezra one shot by @yopossum

Loving, reverent domestic smut with sweet, submissive Ezra.

SMUT; no plot that’s it just porn but with FEELINGS; sub!Ezra; established relationship; super duper in love; domestic fluff; comfort; gratuitous pet names; praise kink; body worship; body hair; grinding; breast and nipple play; teasing/edging if you squint; light bondage; riding; PIV; no condom (there’s come y’all); religious language and imagery as literary device; Ezra the human thesaurus; prose gettin purple; making grown men whine and cry; reader is not gendered, has breasts and a vulva/vagina, is described as having puffed nipples and dimpled thighs, can straddle Ezra, but no coloring, size, appearance, age, or ability is otherwise noted; Ezra is an amputee and healed and we love it (no gore or trauma or background re: his arm); but I did write this because I was watching Prospect without actually watching and was inspired by *~*those sounds*~* out of context tho; Beatrice is not reader’s name, just a nerdy Dante reference; I stole this title from Florence Welch; old person on tumblr; is this spacing wack?; not a beta in sight; 18+ only no minors

SUBMISSIVE EZRA!!! I loved this. Such a gorgeous fic.

Stick Buddies - Frankie series by @auteurdelabre

You and Frankie find yourselves in a complicated situation when invited to Benny's wedding for a week in Mexico. Despite your strained friendship, you both pretend to be a couple to save Frankie embarrassment when seeing his recently engaged ex wife. However as you navigate through this charade, old feelings and unresolved issues resurface.

friends to enemies, angst, fake relationship, bickering, there's only one bed, destination weddings, enemies to lovers, jealousy, idiots in love, revealed secrets, mutual pining, smut, HEA, so many fucking tropes.

friends to enemies to lovers??? Sign me the fuck up.

Where You Left Me - Frankie one shot by @chaotic-mystery

You meet Frankie for a date and reminisce about your relationship.

MAJOR character death. No movie AU but fuck Tom. This is overall angst heavy and please take care of yourself. Grief & loss, sadness, memories, I think that’s it? It’s just overall a bittersweet and tragically lovesick story. There’s no physical descriptions of reader other than wearing a black dress at one point and having hair that tickles Frankie’s nose. no y/n used

This shit made me cry in the best way. Please read this.

One of Your Girls - Frankie one shot by @pedropeach

unpacking some of frankie's old things leads to a revelation about his past. (OR to put it simply: frankie morales x triple frontier boys circle jerk)

Circle Jerk, Sub!Frankie, Bukkake, Facials, Cumplay, Cum Swallowing, frankie is literally a cum dumpster (and loves it), Praise Kink, Pet Names, Dirty Talk, oral (m receiving), Deepthroating, Cock Worship, Use of restraints, Sexy Photographs, Sharing, brief mentions of anal sex (m/m), for story purposes you are frankie's current gf, frankie x all the guys individually, this includes tom but he's not part of the circle jerk, sry tom

Really was not expecting this to be as tender and soft and sweet as it is considering it's one of the more filthy things I've ever read. Absolutely love it.

I'll Carry You - Javi P series by @almostfoxglove

You reunite with your childhood best friend when he arrives home from Colombia. Javier's sudden return to your life exhumes buried heartbreak, but he longs to set things right.

Eventual smut. Reference to canon-typical violence, injury, and the death of a parent. Plenty of alcohol consumption, yearning, and angst. YEARNING!!!

The yearning is exquisite. The fic is exquisite. I'm in love with this fic

Remorse for Remedy - Joel series by @pedgito

Alone, the Miller's brothers seem like your only hope. The outbreak is still fresh, weeks after the fall and all that matters is survival and the unlikely comfort that comes along with a man who wants nothing to do with you.

early outbreak, canon typical violence, morally grey!joel, smut (warnings given with each chapters), exploration of kinks, enemies to lovers, age gap (early 20s/mid 30s), unhealthy coping mechanisms, detailed warning with each chapter

I haven't ever read a series about Joel immediately post outbreak, which is wild. It's always raider!joel or qz!joel or jackson!joel. I love this new perspective and I'm so excited to read more.

Biology - Joel one shot by @endlessthxxghts

Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship.

Well slap me silly and call me an uncle fucker because this fic was amazing. (they're not really related don't. look. at. ME.)

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Joel series by @justagalwhowrites

After the death of his daughter, Joel Miller fell apart. But when searching for answers at the bottom of a bottle and within his own rage doesn't fix it, he resigns himself to working for his brother in private security. It's a job that starts him down the path to stability and a semblance of a life, even if it's not one he particularly wants. At least it does until you show up. The biggest movie star in the world with your newly adopted niece in tow, you throw everything about Joel's life into flux. Is he capable of letting himself feel something again while protecting the only things left in the world that matter?

Protective Joel, Ellie & Joel Bonding, Joel is Bad at Feelings, POV Joel, Joel Needs a Hug, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

So pumped for a new Kit fic. Super into bodyguard Joel. The angst right out the gate is so beautifully painful, I just know I'm gonna cry once a chapter at least. (i've only read one chapter, so I have some catching up to do!)

Professor's Pet - Joel one shot by @chaotic-mystery

Professor Miller wants you to teach the class tomorrow morning & you need help being less nervous. What if he’s the reason you’re nervous, though?

Age gap but not specified, power imbalance (professor x TA, reader stutters when nervous, academic weapon, teasing, fingering, one (1) pair of panties ripped to shreds, oral (f receiving), spitting, pussy slaps, praise kink, name calling (good girl, sweetheart, baby, smart girl), dirty talk, talking you through it, spanking, condescending a little bit, cum eating, face riding, nasty freaky kisses to share your cum, no use of y/n

I cannot begin to explain how hot him helping her practice is. And then the smut.... I need a shower

Call It What It Is - Joel one shot by @joelsgreys

A disagreement over patrol duty leads to declarations that have been long overdue.

JACKSON ERA JOEL. established relationship. HEFTY AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and joel is 56). ellie and joel are fine bc i said so and they deserve nothing less. reader handles a rifle, joel’s a little too overprotective and almost seems controlling, but i promise he is not. well, maybe just a smidge. arguing, admission of feelings, joel miller says i love you (yes this is ooc, no i do not care bc i need this old man to tell me he loves me). angst, fluff. quite a bit of side character interaction before we get to joel and reader in the second half. the only physical description of reader is that she is shorter than joel.

We love overprotective Joel in this house

The Guard Dog - Pero Tovar one shot by @avastrasposts

Sent to your uncle's bleak castle in the north of England, you expect only a dreary existence until you meet his groundskeeper, a scarred, frightening Spaniard. But love in the Victorian era is not easy and life doesn't follow straight paths.

this is mainly all fluff with a bit of angst. Some of that casual racism and predjudice of the period rears its ugly head though. I've tried to keep the reader as blank as possible, but it's Victorian England and she's a lady so I have to presume she doesn't speak Spanish and has fair skin. No use of y/n.

This was so beautiful. I love the setting, I love the characterization, I love the story

Bloody Kisses - Tim Rockford/Dio series by @perotovar

shane has been in denial about himself for a while. newly single and with the help of one of his favorite singers, he opens his eyes to a new venture he could possibly take: the cop he sees on a semi-regular basis, detective tim rockford.

takes place in the early 00s, age gap (shane is 23, tim is 40), internalized homophobia, hurtful names (fairy boy, faggot, queer as a slur, etc), a gay porn magazine, lots of references to peter steele of type o negative (and his playgirl issue), male masturbation, acab, angst, protected p in a, fingering, excessive amounts of lube

I started reading this a while ago, but I never added it to the spreadsheet. I'm in love with how soft Tim is with Dio UgH

In the shadows of others, we grow - Tim Rockford/Dave York series by @sin-djarin

What happens when you put two different areas of law enforcement in the same room a few times a year to atone for their 'sins'? You find common ground and figure it out. Together.

M/M, Established D/s dynamics, each chapter contains individual warnings.

This pairing?? Obsessed. The feelings?!?!? Give me 14 more fics in this universe PLEASE

An End to Drought - Javi P one shot by @almostfoxglove

The future of your family's homestead hangs in the balance as Javier Peña comes home in the middle of a drought.

Javier Peña Smut, Soft Javier Peña, Sweet Javier Peña, Javier Peña Has a Big Dick, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Neighbors,Javier might be a god? who knows!, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Penis In Vagina Sex, Oral Sex, Creampie, Sex, Vaginal Sex, unprotected piv, Freyr, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Post Season 3

I'm obsessed with the way the challenge was interpreted. Is Javi a god? We don't know... but he sure fucks like one.

Some shit I wrote:

Make it Hurt - Logan Howlett x f!mutant!reader - sparring + pain kink

Morning Ride - Logan Howlett x f!reader - soft morning sex

You're So Dark - Dave York x f!reader - prof!Dave x student!Reader

[lovelykhaleesiii]

My Best Girl

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Best Friend's Dad!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader [Modern AU]

WORDS: 1,200.

SUMMARY: Your best friend from University, had been begging all year long for you to join her back in her home town to spend the holidays with her family. Being the loyal friend you are, you thought it would be the decent thing to do...

WARNINGS: age-gap implies (consensual & legal, reader is 18+, Jahaera aged up), innocence kink, praise kink, degradation kink, Daddy kink, p in v sexual intercourse, edging, cream pie, breeding kink (if you squint), slight dub-con, thigh riding implied, jealous!aegon, possessive!aegon, swearing.

A/N - thanks to the wonderful, talented, beautiful @valeskafics who planted this AU in my head... I have plunged deep into a dilf!Aegon rot. ily bby xx

You had no intention of ever sparking a relationship over the holiday period, let alone with an older man... That just so happened to be your best friend's father.

Jaheara Targaryen, you had fondly grown acquainted with over your undergraduate semesters in University: so enraptured by each other, she practically was begging for you to join her over the holiday period: saving you from spending a lonesome, seldom time alone on campus.

The moment you laid eyes on her beloved father, Aegon Targaryen, you felt your heart beat halt, breath hitched in your throat, and a rather odd yearning ignited between the sweet spot between your thighs.

He was a rather handsome man, you could no deny: his unique features had softened with adipose, yet his age had shown, along with whatever hardships he had faced. Scarring across his brow, beneath his eye socket, and yet he exuded a formidable presence, it somewhat intimidated you.

You struggled to even maintain eye contact, doe eyes constantly fluttering from the larger man before you, to your scuttling feet, before Jahaera dragged you away into the privacy of her own room.

You subtly attempted to pry, asking singular questions about her father, in which Jahaera would mindlessly respond with a swift response.

A divorcee, his relationship with Jahaera's biological mother had been tense from the beginning, incompatible. She did disclose he had many flings, occupied with one night stands and frequented by regular women of the neighbourhood, yet did not dare to settle, for whatever reason.

That is until, you had mindlessly wandered off venturing the opulent double-storey, before abruptly being surprised by Aegon's presence in the kitchen during the later hours of the night.

"And what might a pretty girl like you be doing wandering in the dark, hmm?"

Your mind rushing with fleeting, blank thoughts, moments later you found yourself being effortlessly lifted onto the counter top, rutting your aching, soaked cunt against his sturdy, meaty thigh, before he would taunt and tease your silky folds with his tip. Burying his dense girth inside of you, stretching your walls like no man has ever.

Since that surreal night, awake the next few days as if you lived through a vivid, fever dream: your relationship blossomed with your best friend's father, in discrete.

Aegon relished in how flustered and bothered you get, even with the faintest motions, such as close proximity, his overpowering musky scent intoxicating you with each inhale: making you weak in the knees, and butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach.

Regardless, of the age difference you both shared similar interests in films, attitudes and romance.

Aegon devoured your innocence: despite having been in previous relationships, your innocence in trusting him to take the lead, to protect you and be intimate with you, reinforced his belief in you.

He took you seriously from the beginning: having the decency to not treat you like some mindless, young fling.

Your vulnerability towards him, drove him mad: as he felt a responsibility towards you.

In return, you favored his wisdom, with life and in the bed. He taught you how to really please a man.

He would often praise you: admiring your beauty, your intelligence and demeanor. Although, in the end he was somewhat of a youth, relishing in teasing you, making logic cease as he fucked you senseless.

"My good, little whore so greedy for a Daddy, she took her best friend's, huh? Daddy's gonna have to punish you for that little stunt. Thinking you can come in here looking fucking ravenous."

Regardless of Aegon's intent to care, his sex and affections were rough. Manhandling you, spanking you till your cheeks remained red and raw with tenderness for days [certain his handprint was strewn across your flesh], gripping and pulling your hair with such force. He needed to instil some fear, a mutual understanding as he preferred to call it, that you could not go anywhere now without his knowledge.

When you both weren’t being intimate, he enjoyed our company, having you mount and straddle his thigh and lap. Watching him attend to work, answering phone calls, getting so riled up when he was arguing with his correspondents. You had come to realise, Aegon had a rather quick and fierce temper.

Many times, Jaehaera pleaded and fought with her father to take you out to the local city clubs both in the company of her hometown friend [males present] and without, and time after time, he stubbornly denied the two of you from leaving the premises.

Overtime, he refused the idea of you having male companions and friends.

“I know what boys are like at that age baby, they don’t want to be just friends… You’re mine now, and I don’t like to share.”

Jahaera frustrated and uncertain of his motive would excuse herself, and recluse in her room, leaving you pampered and dolled up for Aegon's own undoing.

He enjoyed watching you from afar pampering yourself: "dolling yourself up for Daddy, baby? Always lookin' so beautiful, I need to keep you running around her for my own viewing."

The moment the word slipped your vile tongue, was the moment something snapped in Aegon, that made him cement his feelings for you... Daddy.

He favored the moment, demanding you obey his every command, moaning heavy breaths for you to repeat yourself in a constant loop, directly into his ear.

He wanted you to acknowledge him as almost your savior. Considering him almost god-like which, you faintly had.

Another niche about your elder boyfriend: he purely enjoyed in fucking you raw, no protection, as he craved to feel you.

"Baby this ain't my first rodeo, I'll pull out okay. I'll get you the pill if I have to--"

"Good cause I still have two years to go, and I don't think J-Jahaera would appreciate this-"

"But your already such a slut for me, taking me so fucking well and perfect, she brought you on a platter for me, knowing damn well I couldn't resist... Surely?!"

Regardless, Aegon's attempts at hiding the affair would occasionally plunder: sending you "anonymous" gifts through the mail, of wealthy jewels, the finest material of laundrette and perfumes.

Countless times Jahaera poorly attempted to pry the truth from your sealed lips: she knew that you were seeing someone, just not who...

When it came to returning to campus: you would often exchange raunchy pictures: Aegon was poorly tech-savy in comparison to you: so a dick pic and video at most, was all he could provide.

You however, thrived off online. Sending him nude pics of yourself [this was a first], only to be showered with compliments, before Aegon would request to video call you: jerking himself feverishly as he ached to feel your tight walls swallowing his dick.

You nearly got caught by Jahaera, lurking his social media and the texts, before coming up with a reasonable excuse.

You would be the first to say "I love you" hesitant and all, Aegon however, had no shame to admit it. The words fell naturally off of his plump lips.

And so, Aegon's intent with you surpassed the theatrics of his previous licentious behaviours. He is obsessed with you!

general taglist - @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1 @aegonslawyer

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @jawline-of-steel @daughter-of-the-stars11

[cielur5ww]

Idk, a modern Au Scaramouche being soft. It can be considered a gn reader, because it does not specify any pronouns... although I did it thinking of a reader amab.

Headcanons of Scaramouche and you, I think no pronoun is specified. Mention of hickeys, nothing explicit, Scaramouche is a proud.. (he is a bit silly)

Scaramouche bf! He doesn't understand in the slightest why you always put too much effort into decorating when you do your schoolwork, (half of him understands) what you do for aesthetics but to him, it seems unnecessary. (It's minimalist)

Scaramouche bf! Every time he gets upset (he's not serious) all he wants from you is for you to shower him with affection. He is hungry for affection, touch or words (better both to relieve that hunger)

Scaramouche bf! who always complains and snorts, annoyed because both of them live far away from each other. Although you see each other in classes and everything, he also wants to spend time with you alone, simply in your room, seeing what nonsense you will come up with today or simply a date at a cafe or walking through squares, enjoying the peace.

Scaramouche bf! who is actually called Kunikuzushi, but now to leave that painful past behind he calls himself Scaramouche, although he doesn't want anything to remember about his previous name... it really doesn't bother him in the least if you call him Kuni or kuzushi, because he is quite used to it. That you call him that, it's as if that nickname was simply made for him, so that you could say it through your lips with that stupidly sweet smile for him (ironic, right?)

Scaramouche bf! He definitely takes care of his skin, although he has almost absolutely no imperfections, he follows a skyn care routine, and he would like to guide you in this type of world of face and skin care if you didn't do it before!, but if you already did So you would like both of you to be together, each doing your own skin care routine.

Scaramouche bf! Good memory and he takes pride in it, but when something happens he acts like an idiot who doesn't know anything or doesn't remember it (he likes to bother you)

Scaramouche bf! Totally embarrassed if you go to the gym and one day you suggest that he sit on top of a bar to do chest exercises, and carrying his weight you do quite a few repetitions... (he gets embarrassed although he tries to maintain his defiant and mocking attitude.)

Scaramouche bf! He is surprised and freezes in a few seconds if you were to carry him so easily, he knows that he weighs little but the fact that you carried him without effort... surprises him and, clearly, he doesn't blush a little, he simply beams, telling you to put it down. And if you don't do it, and you carry him calmly like a princess... he will be with his arms crossed... maintaining an expression of annoyance but you can't take it seriously when that light blush becomes more and more noticeable on his cheeks, it's cute even though he's annoying.

Scaramouche bf! that his physical strength is below the average man (just a little) and sometimes he HATES asking you for help carrying things, because he is supposed to be independent and not weak. (In the end you approach him on your own, and you will have to insist on helping him until he finally says yes... but reluctantly, as if he could really carry that heavy box that, according to him, weighs 100kg ... or if you stop insisting, he will get upset anyway because you didn't want to help him.)

Scaramouche bf! who uses concealer to hide the hickeys that were stupidly dark, he doesn't even know how the hell he leaves you... that you leave him in this ridiculous state (He likes it anyway)

Just bland headcanons, sorry this isn't reviewed, just vague ideas. Any mistake... well it will be there

[scrimbly-mc-scrombly-iii]

BBC ghosts modern au fanfics where Cap is a teacher, or a dad, or otherwise just good with kids are my weakness. Especially patcap fics where they’re dads to Daley omg ahafqfvwg

It’s in character too, look at his dynamic with Kitty, he’d be such a good dad. like he acts so stand-offish and strict but he’s actually so sweet and caring and it melts my heart in canon and in the fandom.

bro would be the type of guy to take kids problems seriously! bro would be the type of guy to talk to them like they’re actual people, and not be condescending or dismissive! bro would be like that teacher you fondly remember for the rest of your life!

you know i’m right!!!!

[papiliotao]

THE PURRFECT DATE

ੈ✩‧₊˚ GN!Reader

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Characters: Heizou, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Synopsis: Your boyfriend takes you to a cat café!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Warnings: reader and Heizou have a tiny misunderstanding but it's overall very fluffy, a cat injures the reader in Xiao’s, Scaramouche

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Content: crack, fluff, modern!AU

Heizou

When your boyfriend told you that he was going to take you to a cat café, you weren't quite expecting this. You had anticipated a cute date with Heizou, sipping on sweet drinks and petting adorable felines. However, Heizou had decided to be act difficult instead.

"Oh! Look at this cat! It looks like you, don't you think?" Heizou pointed at an ginger cat. The cat was staring blankly at you with absolutely no thought in its eyes. Meeting gazes with the creature truly felt like staring into an endless abyss. Your jaw dropped, and you turned to stare at Heizou in shock. "Wow. Even your expressions match now."

"Stop," you begged him, feeling your face beginning to heat up. Your boyfriend seemed taken aback by your reaction. His eyebrows furrowed as his forehead scrunched up into a prominent frown. However, his expression quickly twisted into a small smirk.

"What's wrong, love?" your boyfriend snickered. You felt your face burn with the heat of a thousand suns. Shikanoin Heizou was impossible. It almost felt like he would never stop teasing you. You swore that even if the world was ending and the sky was falling, your partner would find some way to flirt with you or poke fun at you.

"Why exactly do you think I resemble that cat?" you inquired, snorting a little when you saw the feline attempting to groom itself. It ended up losing its balance and rolling over. Did your boyfriend seriously compare you to such an idiotic creature?

"Man alive. I thought you were smarter than this," Heizou said, shaking his head and feigning disappointment. "Fine, I guess I'll let you in on a little secret," he whispered, leaning closer to you to talk into your ear. The feeling of his lips brushing against your skin flooded your senses with warmth. Yet it was a warmth that caused shivers to wrack your body. "You're cute." You felt an exhilarating touch of soft lips to your cheek after he said those words, causing your heart to race.

"So you don't think I'm stupid?" you asked your boyfriend.

"Stupid?" Heizou bursted out laughing. "Love, where did you get that impression from?" He glanced at the cat and then back at you. The cat was now running around, chasing a cat wand that one of the visitors was waving around. In its haste, the orange feline accidentally ended up running into a wall. You winced at the sight, but the furry creature was unphased. It simply stood up and continued to chase the toy.

"See what I mean?" you mumbled, a bit embarrassed that you had jumped to conclusions earlier. You looked down to obscure your flustered face from your boyfriend, but he tenderly placed his hands on your cheeks and forced you to look up at him.

"Adorable," Heizou remarked, "just like a cat."

Kazuha

Going to a cat café with Kazuha was a mistake.

It seemed like a good idea at first. Your boyfriend had always had a natural feline affinity, so you figured that it would end up just being another wholesome date. However, you did not quite anticipate the extreme reactions of the animals.

As soon as you and Kazuha walked through the front door of the mostly empty café, you found yourselves in a troubling predicament. Without warning, a mass of furry bodies scurried over to you and your boyfriend ⁠— well, mostly your boyfriend. An amalgamation of cats surrounded Kazuha, causing you to step aside to give the felines some space. They meowed at him, nuzzled against his legs, and purred in his presence.

A grin adorned Kazuha's face as he bent down to brush his fingers gently against the pelt of a cat that reminded you of a fluffy cloud on a summer day. He giggled lightly, causing butterflies to dance within the pit of your stomach. His laughter was music to your ears — a timeless melody that would never fail to bring a smile to your face. You shrieked internally when you saw how he handled the feline as if it were a fragile treasure — precious but prone to breaking if one was too rough.

Based on the way he interacted with the cats, even a stranger would have been able to tell that his touch was always soft and tender, and as his partner, you knew better than anyone that this was true. It showed in the way he would loosely grip your hand whenever the two of you took late night walks together. It showed in the way his fingers would ghost across your sun-kissed hair during waking hours. And it showed in the way he would press saccharine kisses against your lips with the utmost care ⁠— passionate, but not suffocating. It was clear that he prioritized your comfort above all at any given moment.

Despite knowing that Kazuha was generally a kind and affectionate person, you couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous of the cats. You felt ridiculous for harboring such feelings toward such clueless creatures. However, you couldn't really control how you felt. The green-eyed monster named envy whispered words of ridicule as you watched your boyfriend interact with the felines gathered at his feet.

Kazuha glanced in your direction and shot a smile at you. You pouted as he turned back to the cats. It seemed that he could feel you glaring at his back because your eyes met pools of crimson before you knew what was happening. Your shoulders relaxed slightly, and you felt the tension in your facial muscles alleviate. Although you were still miffed, the galaxies contained within your boyfriend's ruby eyes never failed to make your heart to flutter.

"My love," Kazuha spoke softly, gazing at you with an expression that spoke of adoration and adoration alone. "It appears that something is bothering you. I won't force you to tell me what the problem is, but I would truly appreciate it if you did. I hate seeing you upset." You sighed. Nothing slipped past your ever-perceptive boyfriend.

"Promise you won't laugh at me?" you asked Kazuha, noticing that all his attention was now on you. The cats around him remained close to him, but he was no longer focused on them. You were the only thing on his mind.

"I would never dream of it," he responded.

You took a deep breath before bluntly stating, "I feel a bit jealous." Although your statement was rather vague, you knew you didn't have to elaborate any further. Kazuha understood you like no one else. Your boyfriend's eyes widened in surprised before they crinkled with slight amusement. However, his features softened as he made eye contact with you.

"Love," Kazuha started, "come over here." He beckoned for you to close the distance between the two of you. You complied with his request. As you walked, the cats parted ways to let you through. It almost felt as though you were royalty of some sort.

Once you were directly in front of Kazuha, the boy took your hand in his. Sparks were flying as he slowly brought your knuckles up to his lips, relishing in the dreamlike moment. As his lips met the back of your hand, you felt his soft hair tickling your skin. Although it wasn't a kiss on the lips, it was no less magical. Your boyfriend always knew the best ways to capture your heart. You were slightly disappointed when Kazuha pulled away to speak, leaving nothing but a lingering warmth in his wake.

"This world contains a great many wonders, but no matter how many beautiful, remarkable, and captivating sights I come across in this lifetime, you will always be my favourite. I love you."

Scaramouche

Your boyfriend glared daggers at you as yet another cat padded up to him and rubbed itself against his legs. Everything about his demeanor screamed "why did I agree to this?" You simply giggled, causing Scaramouche’s frown to deepen.

Who knew that your cold and grumpy boyfriend would turn out to be such a cat magnet? You were having the time of your life snapping photos of Scaramouche with the fluffy felines. Although he was scowling in all of them, your heart couldn't help but do flips when you checked the images.

"Put your phone down," Scaramouche hissed at you. It turned out that being Scaramouche's significant other did not mean that you were exempt from hearing his irritated tone of voice. You shook your head, refusing to give in to his demands. Scaramouche rolled his eyes but didn't protest further. Although he would never admit it, he really did have a soft spot for you.

"Alright, time to set this as my phone wallpaper," you snickered, staring your boyfriend straight in his indigo eyes as you spoke. Scaramouche wrinkled his nose and glared at you.

"If you're going to make a photo of me your wallpaper, at least make it a good one," Scaramouche snorted.

You simply stared at Scaramouche, a little confused. "How would you know whether or the images turned out good? I haven't shown them to you yet." Scaramouche chuckled as though you had asked him the most ridiculous question he had ever heard in his life.

"Even if they're decent, I'm certain I could do better," Scaramouche smirked at you. Normally, you would have immediately shut Scaramouche down out of spite, but your curiosity got the better of you. You walked over to your boyfriend, ensuring that you took caution so as not to accidentally trip over any cats, and handed him your phone.

"Do your worst," you challenged him.

Without hesitation, Scaramouche wrapped a hand around your waist and pulled you close to him, causing you to yelp. He then set your phone’s camera to selfie mode and took a picture of the two of you, ensuring that the small black and white cat sitting beside him was visible as well. It was, admittedly, a cute image, but you refused to accept defeat.

"So, what do you think? Am I a great photographer, or am I an absolutely godly photographer?" You groaned as your boyfriend grinned at you in a cheeky manner. How was it possibly for someone to have an inferiority complex and a massive ego at the same time?

"Whatever," you mumbled, refusing to acknowledge Scaramouche’s victory. "Watch my stuff. I’m going to the bathroom," and with that, you left your boyfriend to his own devices, with no one but the tiny cat by his side to keep him company.

When you returned from the bathroom, you were met with an absolutely shocking sight. You had to blink slowly and pinch yourself to ensure that you weren’t dreaming.

Scara was sitting on the ground with the black and white cat in his lap. He was scratching the creature behind the ears. The purrs of the feline rang out nonstop through the café, sounding almost like the rumbling of a motorcycle engine. As you looked more carefully, you noticed the corners of Scaramouche's lips were turned up in a small smile. His gaze also appeared softer than usual. You recognized it as a look that your boyfriend reserved for the few that he loved.

You quickly decided that you needed to capture the moment with your phone. However, there was just one problem. The device was on the ground right beside Scaramouche. It seemed that he had placed it down close to him in order to hold the cat.

With all the stealth and care that you could muster, you crept in your boyfriend's direction, inching toward your phone at an agonizing pace. Each second felt like an eternity spent in suspense, perpetually anticipating that Scaramouche would look up and realize you were there. Fortunately for you, he was too focused on petting the cat under its chin to notice you approaching.

Miraculously, you managed to make your way to Scaramouche's side nearly silently. Swiftly, you bent down to retrieve your phone. "Smile!" you exclaimed, causing your boyfriend to tilt his head upwards to gaze at you. The cat mimicked him. Scaramouche's eyes widened, and before he realized what was happening, you took a picture of him.

"Hey, look at that," you remarked, showing Scaramouche the image. "I took a better photo than you."

"You're a persistent fool," your boyfriend snapped with exasperation lacing his tone. He huffed out a sigh and went back to running his fingers through the cat's fur.

"But I'm your persistent fool," you insisted. It appeared as though your words had struck a chord within him, for as you made eye contact with your boyfriend, you observed that his indigo eyes had filled with a sporadic warmth.

"Hmph. Fine. I suppose you’re correct. After all, if you weren’t either of those things, you would have given up pursuing me by now," Scaramouche whispered. "What I meant to say was, thank you for putting up with me. I know I’m not the best boyfriend at times, but your stubbornness has allowed you to continue loving me. Thank you, so much, for being infuriatingly adamant, my dear."

(And for the record, you ended up making the photo you took of Scara and the cat your wallpaper)

Xiao

"Xiao, are you scared?" You eyed the dark-haired boy suspiciously. He had been hesitant to accompany you to the café in the first place, and now it seemed like he was avoiding any and all contact with the cats.

"No," he retorted, backing away from a large ragdoll cat. You giggled. He was definitely scared.

"Are you sure?"

Xiao paused for a moment before answering you, "Yes, I’m sure. Do you really think I would fear such helpless creatures?" You stayed silent, observing Xiao’s interactions with the ragdoll. Your boyfriend kept edging away from the feline as it stepped closer to him. It was clear that he was trying to be subtle about his movements, but he was failing miserably. For some reason or another, Xiao wanted the cat to stay away from him.

Unfortunately for Xiao, the cat eventually managed to back him into a corner. You knew it was time to step in and help when you saw Xiao shrink back. He looked at you, his amber eyes pleading for you to do something.

Suppressing your laughter, you picked up a toy mouse and dangled it in front of the feline that was holding your boyfriend hostage. Instead of leaping for the trinket, the cat turned to face you. It hissed at you and swiped its paw, aiming to scratch your arm. You moved out of the way just in time to avoid getting injured. It appeared that the ragdoll was solely focused on you now. You had saved your boyfriend but at what cost?

The cat refused to relent. Its aggression toward you didn't cease. A flurry of forceful bites and vicious clawing was unleashed. Behind the cat, Xiao stared at you, a conflicted look glinting in the honeyed irises of his eyes. However, something in him seemed to break when the cat finally managed to hurt you, causing a tiny bead of crimson blood to run down your left hand.

He frowned and clenched his fists. Sighing, Xiao carefully approached the cat, wrapping his arms around the feline. As soon as the overly-ferocious ball of fluff was lifted into Xiao's gentle hold, it calmed down. Your lips parted slightly as you regarded the sight in wonder. It seemed that the cat really liked Xiao.

"Is everything alright?" an unfamiliar voice rang out after the turmoil finally subsided. Upon examining your surroundings, you found that a café employee was standing a few steps away from you and Xiao. They glanced at you and then at Xiao. The worker did a double-take after seeing Xiao holding the cat. "Well that's a first."

"Is something wrong?" Xiao bluntly questioned the employee.

"No, not really. It's just that Toffee, the pretty ragdoll in your arms, typically doesn't take kindly to people. I don't know how you managed to win her trust, but it seems she enjoys being around you," they responded. "From the way you're holding her, it seems like you're a natural with cats!"

"You should have seen him earlier," you snorted. "He was afraid to even approach one of them." You noticed the tips of Xiao's ears slowly turning a shade of rosy pink. How adorable. "By the way, Xiao, why were you acting like that?" It was out of the ordinary for your nearly fearless boyfriend to cower in the face of such harmless prospects. Both you and the worker listened intently as Xiao spoke.

"Since you insist on knowing," Xiao started, sighing a little, "I feared that I would accidentally cause harm." Oh. That was why Xiao seemed reluctant to lay so much as a finger on the felines. You should have expected it. Your boyfriend was definitely a little intimidating and rough around the edges, but on the inside, he was an absolute sweetheart.

"It appears that you've done the opposite though," the employee remarked. "I mean, I don't think I've ever seen Toffee this relaxed. I think she feels safe with you." Xiao peered down at the cat, and sure enough, her eyes were closed, and her breathing was serene and gentle. She had fallen asleep.

"I see," Xiao responded dryly. To most, Xiao would have appeared rude for his lack of a complex response, but you knew that your boyfriend simply didn't know how to keep a conversation going. Throughout the course of your relationship, you had to learn how to read into the smallest of gestures to truly comprehend how much Xiao loved you. Thankfully, the worker standing before you simply brushed off his wry response.

"You know, the cats here are up for adoption," they said, addressing both you and Xiao. "I think it would be lovely if Toffee could go to a home where she feels secure." You exchanged a look with Xiao. The two of you knew exactly what the worker was insinuating.

"We'll consider it," Xiao told them.

(After two weeks of tireless late-night research, you returned to the cat café to sign the adoption papers)