#of course like all shame work it's going to be two steps forward one step back however. i think it'll solve a lot of my interpersonal issue

[glittercorvid]

uh oh besties, i've worked through enough of my shame that the inner diva siren's call is getting louder and louder... girlies i think we're about to enter our flamboyant era

[peachesofteal]

MELOS (PART THREE)

main masterlist / Azriel's masterlist

Part two here / Melos masterlist Azriel/female reader - 6.6k words - AO3 Tags - 18+ mdni, explicit content, hurt/comfort, caretaking, possessive behavior, usual warning for Azriel's self loathing. Brief suicidal ideation. Azriel willing to rip anyone to shreds for threatening his mate, complicated IC dynamics, Amren sucks. Oral sex - fem receiving, little bit of edging, Dom/sub undertones, praise kink. canon compliant.

Fear.

It slams into him, shakes the bond so violently he almost drops out of the sky, forces him off course over the jagged peak of Illyria, urging him to follow the intensity of your panic towards Velaris. Gone is his assignment, his contact awaiting his visit, his work. One objective rises above it all.

You. 

The Palace of Bone and Salt is in shambles, but he hardly notices. Somewhere it registers in the back of his mind there’s been a quake, there are injuries, damage, but none of it matters.

The only thing that matters is his mate in front of him, trembling, eyes wide and glazed over, blood trickling down your face and blooming across your ribs. There’s a roaring sound between his ears, dread and rage and agony all compounding into a mounting explosion, and for a moment, he worries he might level the city for its crime of harming you.

Feyre is tense, and Cassian watches him warily. “What happened?”

“We found her under there,” he points to a dilapidated merchant’s stall, his stomach roiling at the sight of it, heavy stone counter cracked in half, wood and glass scattered across the ground, “protecting a little girl. We think she’s in shock.”

Not shock. Trapped in memories.

There’s a haunted look in your eye, a flicker of nightmares.

His brave girl. 

He holds himself at bay, holds himself back from shooting into the sky with you cradled to his chest, carrying you as fast as the wind will allow to Madja, or pulling you into a cloud of shadow so he can arrive uninvited in her living room.

“She needs a healer.” His jaw has never been clenched so tight. The smell of your blood is making him sick.

“We know,” Feyre tries to reassure him, but at the same time angles her body to block his path. Cassian shakes his head, because he knows, just as Feyre should, standing between a male and his mate is a very bad idea. He loves Feyre, but his affection for her is nothing compared to what he feels for you, and her behavior in this moment, is reckless. “Az,” she tries to caution him, tone pitching low, serious, “maybe you should back-“

Remove her, the shadows snap, she is in our way.

“You need a healer.” He pretends she doesn’t exist, pushes his anger as far away as he can manage, and addresses you instead. You shake your head.

“I need to go. Home. I need to go… home.” Cassian snorts. Azriel wonders if it’s possible to break his jaw in one punch.

You’re slipping, unsteady on your feet, going somewhere in your mind he cannot follow and his panic ratches upward as he says your name and you don’t respond.

“Feyre,” Cassian murmurs, “step back.” She stiffens, but listens, and he surges forward, unable to keep away any longer.

His heart sings as he cups your cheek. It’s the first time he’s touched you since his hands brought you harm, and he chokes on a breath as you lean into his touch, satin against scars. “Look at me,” he soothes, trying to draw you back to the present, but it’s a losing battle. You’re going to pass out, and you’re scared, he can read it all so clearly, scared to slip away in the dark, scared to succumb to the nightmare in your mind. “It’s okay.” I’m here, he wants to scream, you’re not alone. You fist his shirt and blink like you’re trying to clear the fog from your head, but it’s not enough.

In one moment, you’re here, you’re with him.

And in the next, you’re collapsing in his arms.

Time is so fickle.

There’s not enough of it now. For so long, his existence was a plague, an endless agony rife with shame, a life undeserving. He dreamt, multiple times, of falling out of the sky and into the Sidra, sinking to the bottom and letting the cold water fill his lungs. He never wanted more, not truly. He had no need for time.

Now, it’s all he wants. More time for more chances to tell you how sorry he is and kneel at your feet, beg you for forgiveness. More time to know you. To love you. Time to learn your likes and dislikes, what makes your nose wrinkle, what adds a skip to your step. Time to take you flying, to trek through the forest with you on an endless scavenger hunt, watch as you bite your lip and furrow your brow at Moonflower’s worktable.

If the Mother would give him another chance. 

If you would.

Time is fickle, because for months, he’s begged it to slow down, and now, he’s pleading with it to speed up, bring him to the moment where you wake.

Madja assured him you would make a full recovery within a day or two. She left a healing salve for the gash in your side, and some sleeping draught in case you were too uncomfortable to rest. You were exhausted, she told him, far weaker than she was comfortable with, body and magic wrung dry.

“Try to get her to eat something,” she said, “and then make sure she sleeps. She needs it. A lot of it.” 

The guilt is insurmountable. It chews away at his insides, burrows itself deep beneath his skin like a disease, rotting his flesh and mind. All he sees is your face, terrified, tormented, first in his dungeon and again, in the Palace. He sees you shuddering amongst the ruin, eyes rolling back in your head, collapsing in his arms. He can still hear your gasps, your pleas from that night, the steady thump of your heart slowing as he took your air, again and again. It’s these memories, these moments igniting in his chest, pain so visceral it aches, the agony of his mate’s suffering tearing him apart from the inside out. No matter the end of his story, of yours, there will always be this cordolium within him, this stark regret plaguing his every step. You’re so beautiful it possesses the power to break him, a strange, beautiful creature, breathtaking from the tip of your nose to the depths of your mind, and he’s a monster, lurking in your nightmares.

A beauty, and a beast.

You whimper and twitch in the blankets, hands fisted, limbs stiff. “Shhh,” he strokes the apple of your cheek. He's been able to settle you somehow, lull you back to peace thanks to the music spinning between your soul and his, threads knitting around the frail, fledging bond, pushing you to take comfort in him as you rest. It's more than he could ever ask for. “You’re okay, sweet girl. You’re safe.” Your sleep has been fitful, at best, and he wonders if he’s the one haunting you, or something else.

He's still in the chair beside the bed when you begin to blink groggily, trying to get a grip on your surroundings. You’re clouded with confusion, echoes of apprehension strumming down the bond, and he meets it, tempering it with reassurance in hope it reaches the other side. “Hey,” he murmurs, holding perfectly still like you’re a small animal and he’s the predator determined not to spook you as you push up onto your elbows with a groan. “Careful. The wound in your side is pretty raw.”

“Where am I?” you croak, and he reaches for the glass of water waiting on the table.

“My house. I didn’t think you’d take kindly to me breaking into yours.” Mostly true. He can’t deny there’s a warm hum of satisfaction purring in his chest at having you here, in his bed, safe within his walls, and he was too unsettled by the thought of bringing you to the River House, or the House of Wind, even though Feyre tried to insist.

Over the course of his life, Azriel’s loyalty, his dedication to his family, his court, has been instinctual, engrained in him down to the core, and his drive to protect his loved ones, Velaris, has been one of his defining features for centuries.

But this instinct has now shifted to you, and you are still an unknown to his High Lord.

“You brought me to your house…” You glance around, unsure. He knows how it seems. A venomous trap laid by him to ensnare you, to hold you here, by his side, forever. A way to feed poison into your veins, stun you, paralyze you, so he can steal you away, shield you from the world.

“You needed a healer, and rest. This was the logical option." You hold his gaze. It’s one of those instances, one of many, where there’s nothing else but you and him, nothing else that matters, nothing that even comes close. He wishes they could last forever. “I had to make sure you’re okay.” He braces for your wrath, the tart, sweet contrast of a raspberry, pinching the pockets of his cheeks and rolling across his tongue. He had a taste of it in the Middle, with the swamp, and now he craves it. Your fight, your cunning. Clever witchling. 

Your expression sours at the salve. “How bad is it?”

“A piece of marble crushed your ribs, and the jagged edge ripped your skin open. Madja says you’ll be healed in a day, but your body is exhausted and slowing the process. She left a sleep tonic, if you need it.” He murmurs, walking the line of too much and too little delicately, desperate to avoid crushing this fragile truce.

You shift, wincing, small yelp slipping free from between your teeth, and he stills you, brushing his hand along your arm before he can stop himself. “Easy.” The touch is electric, a live wire arcing through the room, crackling in the air, and he draws away out of fear, worry he’ll startle you. “We should get you home,” he says softly, and you nod. He won’t try to force it, push this farther. You won’t be comfortable here, and he’s cradling this burgeoning peace, fanning its flame, encouraging it to grow, trying to keep from ruining it. Working at something he's not sure he can achieve. 

“Yeah I… I think that’s a good idea.” You sit up slowly, leaning to one side to alleviate the pressure on your ribs. “How far is it? To my house?” He frowns.

“Far. We’re on the other side of the city. Do you think you can winnow?”

“I don’t know.” You try to wriggle closer to the side of the bed, but it’s fleeting, and your shoulders slump with defeat.

“I can take you, if you’d like.” You glance at his wings.  

“With those?”

“No, I wouldn’t fly with you in this cold.”

“With the shadows then.” You look down at your lap, and the weight of his choices crash like a wave upon his shoulders. The last time he took you through shadow, it was to the chamber, and then back. He swallows.

“It’s the quickest way.” You fix your gaze across the room, sweeping over his dresser, the nook lined with bookshelves and overstuffed velvet chairs, the chest of weapons on the opposite side. Charcoal grey drapes frame the floor to ceiling windows, aquamarine and citrine refracting through the stained-glass onto the deep, nearly black, green walls and polished wide plank wood floors.

“This is your room.” Your fingertips glide across the sheets, black satin, and his cheeks grow hot. 

“Yes.”

“It fits you.” Your lips tilt into the thinnest crescent moon, something akin to a tiny smile, and optimism soars in his heart.

You hold out your hand, the tattoo a mirror to his, the ink and magic of salvation, his contrition, the thing he now bows to, idolatrously.

Without it, he’d be lost.

You take a long, deep breath and uncurl your fingers, opening your palm. The small sliver of trust knocking his entire existence askew.

The meaning of this-

This trust you deign to place in him now, when you’re vulnerable, when your magic is feeble and your physical strength is sapped, is an infinitesimal gift, divinity defying all.

Unworthy. Another thing you’re giving him that he’s unworthy of.

The threads sing, weaving notes together, highs and lows, one side of a fugue, one side still waiting.

Your throat bobs with a swallow, and you graze your fingertips against his. “You’ll take me home then?”

He’s not sure he can leave you here.

She’s in pain, the shadows bemoan as they carefully flutter at your ankles. You’re too fatigued to notice, too busy contemplating the stairs with trepidation. Climbing them is a daunting task, one he fears you may fail. You’re hurting, completely exhausted, and he’s powerless. He can’t fix it or take it away, like everything else that’s happened. Your eyes are nearly dead, drained, and the shadows flitter around you anxiously. She cannot hold herself up. 

I know.                                                                   

“Can I help you up the stairs?” You shake your head vehemently, and like you’re trying to prove something, attempt to take the first step on shaky legs, gripping tight to the banister like it will keep you steady.

Your knees give out immediately, and his self-restraint vanishes. He lifts you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, petrichor and oakmoss flooding his senses, and you don't even flinch. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, “let me help.”

“I’m tired,” you whisper, voice smaller than he’s ever heard, and he tightens his hold.

“I know. Let’s get you into bed, alright?” Weak limbed and limp, you slump against him, giving yourself over. More trust, more of these things he does not deserve. 

“Madja said your bandage won’t need to be changed before you’re healed, so you won’t have to worry about that tomorrow.” He carefully guides you back against your pillows, trying to ignore how caring for you, holding you, being here with you ignites a swath of feelings in him, possessiveness, protective instincts, obsession. Devotion. The rage, the hatred, the darkness haunting him slips into silence, drowned out by the music, the melody overtaking all.

“Okay,” you mumble, trailing off into a yawn as you squint at him. He wants to stay right here, sitting on the edge of your bed, his hip against your thigh, the neutral, barely there contact chasing off the stygian sullenness waiting to welcome him back to its embrace.

Don’t push it. 

He stands. You follow the movement, head tipping back, exposing your throat. Such a vulnerable place, one he greatly wants to drag his lips across. “I’ll let you sleep.” He says instead, stifling the pleasure surging in his blood at the way your eyes track him. He swears he seems a flicker of sadness there, but it’s gone before he can truly process it, hold on it, commit it to memory. When you don’t say anything else, he nods, drawing a sable shroud around his shoulders, readying to step into-

“Azriel,” he freezes, catching your gaze, “thank you.”

“Of course.” He’d do anything for you, little witch. Anything you asked. 

“I’ll see you next week?” There’s a tinge of trepidation on your tongue but it’s not fear. It’s uncertainty. His lips lift into a smile, a genuine one, one that only exists around you.

“Next week.”

He’s summoned almost immediately, and arrives in Rhys’ office to find an audience of his brother and Feyre, Amren, Cassian. The only one missing is Mor.

He quiets himself. Hides everything inside, pulls the shadows close, reinforces the walls around his mind. “What is it?”

“What is it?” Rhys hisses, anger flashing through the room’s thickened fog of magic. “What is it?” Azriel slips into the mask, the one he perfected long ago, and crosses his arms. A mirror image of the father he hated.

“Your mate is a witch.” He looks to Cassian, who shakes his head. He didn’t do it, didn’t betray the secret, this turbulent reality.

It was bad enough they discovered he had a mate in the first place, but disappearing for two weeks, without communication, has its consequences, and he has a hard time denying Feyre anything. When she asked where he had been, what had caused him to leave so suddenly without word, everything came out.

Almost everything. 

“She’s not a witch, her mother was.”

“So she’s only half a witch,” Amren says drily, rolling her eyes. The shadows rumble, rankle with rage. 

“I could smell it, Az, but she’s done nothing wrong. We don’t want to interrogate her.” Feyre looks at him with sympathy, and he only regards her with that same cool stare. Rhys who appears to be of a different mind, snarls at him.

“You will bring her to me, immediately, and I will determine what kind of-“

“No. She is none of your concern.” He will not play this game. He will not give Rhys a single second with you, if this is his intention.

“She is a witch, living in my Court!”

“And do you not trust my ability to evaluate a threat?” It takes everything, everything he has, to keep his tone measured. Cassian’s eyes dart between the two of them and then clears his throat.

“He tortured her, Rhys.”

“I don’t care,” he snaps, “he is blinded by a mating bond.” He turns his attention back to Azriel, raw power crackling through the air between them. “You will bring her to me, or I will retrieve her myself, and you will not like what happens if I do.”

The room explodes in shadow. Midnight closes in from all sides, climbing the walls, crawling across the floor.

The bond thirsts for battle and blood, for his brother’s head, and Azriel’s vision tunnels, soaked in crimson, in wrath, malevolence worthy of a smote god.

Amren stands. Cassian takes a step forward.

“You would threaten my mate? Is this what we’ve come to?” He’s descended past reason now, encased in an icy coffin of fury, and his siphons gleam, the killing power inside him salivating at the potential for violence. For destruction.

His people are monsters, and so shall he be. 

To protect you, to protect his mate, he’d become anything, a brute, a nightmare, it makes no difference.

“Az, let’s-“

“Cassian.” He seethes, refusing to take his eyes from Rhys, “while you may be more amenable to how your mate is treated by our brother, I am not.” Guilt flashes in Rhys’ gaze, and a breath catches in Feyre’s throat with a small, strangled sound.

“This is ridiculous. Just bring the girl and be done with it.” Amren snorts, casually inspecting her fingernails to appear as if she’s unaffected, but Azriel knows better. The shadows know her heart, her truths, how she mourns the loss of what she once was, how she loathes the fact that she’s High Fae. How she’s all too aware of her weakened state, hiding behind her posturing and assumed infinite wisdom that's slowly becoming irrelevant. Like her.

“Amren. Shut up.” Cassian bites out, his siphons casting a rubied glow around the room, mixing with Azriel’s cobalt blue, painting them together into deep purple hues.

“You will never touch my mate, Rhys. Never.” His brother’s face sparks with surprise and then his lip curls.

“Or what?”

“Rhys!” Feyre whips towards him, horror and disappointment settled into the furrow of her brow. “This is enough.” She looks at Azriel. “We trust your judgement Az, of course we do, and Rhys forgets I met her in the Palace saving a child’s life.” She hisses, her own power pulsing between the brothers, creating a physical barrier.

It’s not wrapped tight to Azriel, but to Rhys.

It seems his brother has been outranked.

We can break it, the shadows croon.

No. 

This is his family, dysfunctional as it may be, as tumultuous it may be, they are still his.

Rhys is still his brother. His High Lord.

“Let’s take a breath, cool off.” Feyre coaxes, nudging at the fortress of Azriel’s mind. Go. I will speak to him.

Don’t bother. 

He will listen to reason, just… give it some time. 

He spares Rhys one more glance as his wings flex and shakes his head. “I am disappointed in you, brother. I had hoped by now you would have learned from your mistakes.”

He expects another challenge of some sort. “No swamp today?”

“No swamp.” You lead him to your workspace in the back of Moonflower, a light, airy space with shelves and shelves full of herbs, flowers, plants growing from glass jars, and hunk of rocks, precious metals, strips of steel haphazardly tucked beside them, all chaotic, all disorganized. Like your home, it’s fitting. “I figured you could hang out with me while I work.” It’s a trial in its own way, daring him to protest, to vanish, to be bored by you, disinterested.

He won’t. He’d never.

“What are you making?” The table is full of stuff. Books, a mortar and pestle, a brass scale. There’s a long, sharp knife next to a thick stalk of something purple that smells like lemon, flanked by two glass beakers, and a heaping pile of salt. A raised metal circle holds a sphere over open flame, its contents a cyan rich liquid just on the cusp of a boil.

“Today I’m trying to finish a batch of contraceptive tea, and a cleanser.”

“A cleanser?”

“It’s an elixir that pulls poison from the body. All the healers in Velaris keep it stocked. Works well for a hangover too.” You bless him with another smile, the second one today, and he tucks it away for when sleep struggles to come and he needs something to cling to.

You pin him with assessing eyes. Anything could roll from your tongue, a question, a request to fulfill the bargain, a demand to never see him again, and the precipice is agony. He wonders if this is how it would be to fall without wings, drop out of the sky and plummet towards the mountains, jump from a cliff and crash into the sea. Would his heart pound the same, lungs scream the same? Would he experience peace, the same he feels in your presence, would his past flash before his eyes, would his family, or you? Conflict shivers from behind your walls towards him, twisting through the bond. “You owe me an explanation, and while I… I do need to hear it, desperately... there are other things that weigh on me. The fact that you know well enough about me but I know very little about you." You draw a pattern through the heap of salt, suddenly distant. It passes, and you blow out a long breath. "Azriel… who are you?” He frowns.

“I am… the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster, I’m-“

“No. What are you, if not those things, the Shadowsinger, the Spymaster. Who are you?”

“I…” the answer doesn’t come and there’s suddenly a nest of cotton muffling sound and thought, spinning tangled webs throughout his brain. Who is he? 

“I'm clever,” you lift your nose and smirk, tracing the rim of the glass beaker to make low whistle tones, “and a friend. I make a very good honeysuckle whiskey cocktail, and I love to read. I’m a hunter too, of fungi and moss, the occasional crystal. I'm an alchemist, I balance nature and magic. I’m a daughter.” Your voice hitches on the last word, vowels pulled apart at the edges, longing lingering on your lips. It pains you. Another puzzle in the long list of surprises, another riddle you’ve posed without an answer, a truth he struggles to find. “Try,” you whisper, ever watchful.

“I’m a bastard.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, the stain upon his life since the day he was born. “And an Illyrian,” a brute, a monster, “I’m exceptionally skilled at causing pain and killing. I am warrior, a fighter. I have turned suffering into art. I am…” he doesn’t look at you. You’re the only thing capable of making him feel real fear, fear of your pain or suffering or anguish, the fear of your rejection, the fear of your disgust, and he can’t bring himself to see it on your face. “I am alone.” He braces for the pity, the same sharp sympathy given to him by his family.

“Well. Those are awful.” His gaze snaps to yours. You’re aggravated, and curious.

Always curious, our girl. 

She is, isn’t she? 

“You’re a brother, aren’t you? And an uncle?” He nods. “So, not alone. And you’re a bastard, probably mocked for it, hurt for it, but here you are, so I imagine you’re perseverant, strong. Strong in the physical sense too.” You peek at his shoulders, his arms, traveling down his chest before redirecting your attention to his face, somewhat abashed. “U-um, you’re-“

“Clever. Like you.”  

“Clever, like me. Brave too, I think, and probably devoted, loyal, considering your line of work.”

“Yes,” he whispers, symphony rising, notes colliding with perfect pitch, ringing in ears, a celestial rhythm waiting for the crescendo to match.

“Loved.” It’s a blazing star shooting across the sky, a buttery sweet sentiment melting in his mouth, loved.

“You didn’t list it for yourself.”

“Because it didn’t belong.” Loved? You don’t consider yourself loved?

“Why?”

“Because there is no one left. I am a good friend, a great one, but my secret prevents others from being a good friend to me. You cannot be loved if you are not known, not truly.” It crashes into him, the severity of your words. You cannot be loved if you are not known, not truly. 

Is he known? Truly known? Is he loved? 

Molten silver bubbles over from the sphere to a beaker, polychrome and pearl trickling down the sides, sizzling into a powder at the bottom. “Ah!” You jerk away from the table, bringing your hand to your chest, and he goes cold, shadows vibrating.

“What?” He’s around the corner and in front of you immediately,  

“It’s nothing, the silver just dripped on me.” You burned yourself. His chest tightens. 

“Let me see.” He cradles your hand in his, shadows quivering around your fingertip as he pulls you over to the tap. He turns the handle to the right temperature, cool but not cold, before putting your blistered skin under the spigot. If he’s fast enough, he can stop it from scarring, stop it from marring your lovely skin, prevent it from being with you for the rest of your life. “How does that feel?”

“Good.” You’re not looking at the water splashing down into the copper sink, or the burn. Instead, you're studying him, contemplating, considering.

“Do you have any cream here? Or maybe one of the salves you make...” He trails off, trying to think about what he’s seen in the shop out front, but everything he means to ask dies in his throat when you wrap your other hand around his.

“I’m okay, Azriel.” Right. Of course you are. It’s a small burn, not even the width of your fingertip. Suddenly, he feels very, very foolish, exposed, and he ties a cloak of obsidian around his shoulders, pulling the tendrils down around his forearms.

“Sorry, I-“

“I know.” You caress the shadows curling around his elbow, dancing through them with grace, inspecting, studying. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you whisper, and his throat tightens.

“There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing.” You shake your head.

“There is… there has to be because I should you hate you, shouldn’t I?”

“You should.” You should do more than hate him, you should fear him, detest him, run from him.

“But I don’t. I don’t hate you, I’m not scared, and I don’t think it’s the safety net of the bargain. I don’t… I don’t understand it. I’m not frightened of you, but I am… I’m frightened of this.” Your palm flattens over your heart. He should tell you; he should confess-

but then he could lose you. 

“I should tell you to leave, but all I want to tell you is you’re not alone.” He tries to dig his heels into the ground against the magnetism dragging him downward, farther and farther until he’s holding your face, nearly nose to nose, counting your breaths, each speck in your irises. Decision and indecision hums down the bond, an endless tug of war you fight, a battle he wants so badly to win for you. You push up onto your tiptoes- 

and then crash your lips to his. 

It’s hungry, lush, teeming with life like your beloved forest. You unknowingly push it all through the bond, desire, confusion, worry, each feeling a chord, a note, trying to complete the song. He’s losing himself in it, veering off the path and diving headfirst into the unknown, too incensed to think for a moment before he wrests his discipline back into place.

Stop.

Control.

He rests his forehead against yours as he draws a measured breath.

His. He’ll show you what it means. To be his.

“You are perfect,” he presses a ghostly kiss to the corner of your mouth, “brilliant, kind, brave. You are far more than I deserve, a blessing I never knew could exist. A goddess I would worship my entire life.” An endless pool of hesitance and longing eddies in your eyes, a paradox he knows too well, and he prepares to step away, disappear, run. 

But you reach for him with a whisper.

“Worship me then.”

Fervor. Frenzy. It all explodes, detonates through him to you, whipping down the bond again and again, madness ebbing at the edge of his mind.

His. His, his, his. 

The two of you collide, and he’s rough, unintentionally, but it’s met blow for blow in a distorted dance, hands, fingers, mouths everywhere, his tongue against yours. It’s not enough, your touch under his shirt, traveling up to his shoulders, a leisurely stroll becoming a hectic sprint, encouraging him, knitting your fingers in his hair, nipping at his jaw. He plucks the ribbon tying the neckline of your dress together, your breasts spilling out into his hands.

“Azriel,” you’re whimpering, rolling your hips against the thigh he’s nudged between your legs, shivering as drags his thumbs across your nipples and follows with his teeth, sharp for the sweet, “don’t tease.”

Wild one. 

The shadows sweep everything off the worktable, and he lays you back, hiking the skirt up over your belly, dragging soft kisses on your skin beneath your navel as he spreads your knees wide, wide enough to accommodate his shoulders, exposing a pair of black panties, weeping pussy waiting for him underneath.

He has no patience and twists his fingers in the hem, tearing the fabric away from your body. “Cauldron,” he murmurs, running his knuckles up and down your seam, enjoying how you shiver each time he teases a little pressure against your clit. “Look at you-  beautiful everywhere.” Dawn in a drizzle, your scent makes his mouth water, and his cock aches, painfully heavy. This is not about him, it’s about you, as all things are now.

He'll have plenty of time, he prays, plenty of time inside you, plenty of time to bury his cock in your slick, warm cunt. 

He kneels. Kneels at the altar, kneels for you. This is veneration, the cleansing of his soul. He’ll make himself worthy, through fire, through ash.

You, you, it’s all you. 

The bond is insatiable, it shrieks like a banshee in the night, his side slamming against yours again and again, hungry and hunting, trying to crash through the sky-high brambles blocking its path.

His. His. Hishishishis- 

“Azriel,” you whimper, practically vibrating, fidgeting on the table, fingers gripping the edge. You go taut as he pulls your thighs over his shoulders and leans in to finally put his mouth on you, tasting, flicking his tongue over your swollen pearl. He’s too broad between your knees, the width of him leaving you completely exposed, every nerve ending on display, every drop of dew ready for him to drink. The size difference is startling, pleasing, and he rumbles his approval into your cunt, tracing your clit with a pointed tongue.

He wants to make you come so badly, but the fiend in him wants to play. “Can you take a finger?” You manage to rasp out a yes, and he feeds you one, unable to look at away at how you clench around it, pressing up past the knuckle, making you sing for him. “That’s it,” he works slowly, pushing and pulling as you arch on the table, toes curling against his shoulder blades, digging into his flesh, “good girl.” You’re tight, tight enough a second finger fills you, tight enough you squeak a little when he kicks them upward, searching for the spot, the one likely to make to go limp.

“Az,” you tug at his hair, and he kisses your pussy, mouth soaked, almost drowning in silken sap, fresh rain, salted earth, the strange and beautiful taste of you.

“Just a bit more,” he finds the textured velvet space and strokes, pinning your hip to the table with his free hand. “There it is, be still,” he croons, pleased when you listen, stammering something like yes and please, panting between syllables. Your nails scratch against the wood, walls clutching his fingers as you writhe, greedy, insatiable, wild as nature intended you to be.

He circles your clit with his tongue and your knees instinctively try to jolt closed, but he shakes his head, correcting you, commanding or coaching, lines too blurred to tell the difference. “Keep your legs open, sweet girl, nice and wide for me so I can make you come.”

 “P-please, please.” Your spine arches and you grip the hand on your hip tight, rising to the crest of the wave he knows is about to crash down. He balances you there, just on the swell, pushing harder on the spot inside you, listening to the way your breath catches. “Ah, fuck, it’s t-too much-” you kick your feet and hiccup, head rolled to the side, eyes wide and brighter than the full moon, tears starting to gather on your lashes.

He'll eat you alive, lick you clean right to the bone, inhale you. Swallow you. Keep you inside himself forever, keep you safe and sheltered. Hidden away.  

“I know, I know,” he coos. Normally he’d make you wait, drag it out until you were a mess far past this while he edged you into madness, but now is not the right time, the right moment.

Still. His blood yearns for it. For your tears, for the way you’d cry as he bounced you on his cock, as his body buried yours into his mattress, as he split you open, fucked you full of his cum.

But for now, this will have to do.

“Poor thing. Does it ache, sweetheart? Do you need to come?”

“Y-yeah, I need it please… I need… I need you.” I need you. If this is all he gets, if this is all he’s earned and it crumbles afterwards, he’ll hold onto those words, treasuring them with his last breath. I need you. He kisses your thigh and then sweeps over your clit, licking and lapping, coaxing your release until you break apart, clapping a hand over your mouth to smother your strangled scream. He praises you- my good girl, look at you, did so well, so perfect- and wrings every last drop of it from your body, only rising from between your legs once you’ve stopped twitching.

Your face is slack, sloped in a small delirious smile, and he licks his fingers clean, kisses the inside of your knee. “Are you with me?”

“Mhmm.” You try to hop down and end up stumbling forward, face planting directly into his chest. His arms come around you on instinct, cupping the back of your head, cradling it, skimming his nose along your hair and breathing as deep as he can, filling his lungs with forest and fauna, fresh snow in the twilight of the first winters day.

Don’t let go, don’t.

Everything in him is warm, at peace. Idyllic.

Your hand creeps across his thigh. “I can…”

“No,” he pulls your fingers to his mouth and presses a kiss to each one, slowly, savoring, “not today.”  An easy smile spreads across his face at the sight of your blown pupils, swollen lips, but the bond thrums with confusion, unease.

“Do you not want me to…”

“I want to have you in any way conceivable, witchling,” he strokes your cheek, “but not here.” Your worktable is in shambles, and as if you forgot, you grimace and huff, pulling away. “I can help-“

“No, it’s fine.” The things scattered to each end begin to arrange themselves, finding their rightful places, glass beakers and molten silver, crushed bundles of herbs and finely ground powders all returning to how they were as if nothing ever happened, tinge of damp foliage and peeling birch rolling around you in a cloud.

“Neat trick.”

“It’s not a trick,” you protest, affronted, and his stomach drops.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“ The side of your mouth quirks playfully, and he closes the gap, curls an arm around your waist as you place your palms on his chest, laughing. Just the brief sound of your happiness might kill him, stop his heart. He finds the curve of your ass instinctively and squeezes, kneads the flesh hard enough you suck in a sharp breath.

“Little brat.” He could take you right now. He wants to. Flip your dress up all over again and bend you over the table, pressing your cheek to the wood and kicking your legs open. You’d still be wet, wanting, pussy swollen and tight, milking his cock as he made you come on it until you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer.

Not now. 

This, whatever this is, this step forward, this rebuilding of what could have been, is fragile, so incredibly tenuous it terrifies him. A small light trying to swell in a sea of sombrous fog, fighting for a chance to shine.

Anything could snuff it out.

“Our next… meeting won’t be until the very end of next week.” The sun is setting over the city, bathing it in a spectrum of opalescence orange-gold streaked with violet, it’s beauty paling in comparison to the brilliance of yours.

“Why?”

“I’m travelling.”  A ripple of tension cascades along his spine. He planned other things for this conversation, hoped to broach the subject of the Solstice ball and ask you to accompany him, but now…

“Where?” The bond rumbles in apprehension, echoing from both sides, his wings rustling in response.

“Spring.” Absolutely not.

“No.” You glare at him.

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

“I’m aware.” He should soften his tone, tread carefully, but the monster inside, the one fused to the bond overrides sensibility, caution, showing his true colors. Brute. Bastard. Illyrian. 

“I-“

“I’ll go with you.” Balance. You sigh.

“I am fine on my own, Azriel.”

“I know.” But he’s not. “As you said earlier, I still owe you an explanation.” That gives you pause, your scrutiny harsh and piercing, more lethal than the fine point of a blade.

Finally, you acquiesce with a nod. “You do.”

“Let’s use that time for it then.” Please. He’s always pleading, digging a deeper hole, dragging himself across broken glass.

The bond is tightrope, one strung from his soul to yours. He tugs it towards his side, trying to drag yours from the vadon, flush your indecipherable thoughts free from the forest of your mind.

Eventually, your hard-bitten expression turns conciliatory and though you cross your arms in front of your chest, you bite out an agreement, teeth gnashed, defiance glittering in your gaze.

“Fine.”

[snazzynacho]

— Emperor of Time

Chapter 1/?: Vivamus, Moriendum Est / Let Us Live, For We Must Die

Emperor Geta x female oc

Read on ao3. Masterlist. Words: 1.7k. Part 2

Summary: Emperor Publius Septimius Geta somehow time travels to the future. With no way home and no idea how he ended up in a random woman’s living room in—he later works out to be—modern-day Britannia, he is forced to adjust as well as he can. And, maybe the woman talking a funny-sounding-gibberish-language to him, might not be all that bad…The gods have plucked him from his wealthy imperial-born path and plunged him deep into the unknown—a time of the modern world. Will he accept this fate or brutally shove it back into their mocking faces?

Tags/warnings: Gladiator 2 spoilers. She/her pronouns used, time travel, red string of fate, fluff, angst, humour, eventual romance, possible smut, female reader, atheist reader, mental breakdown, suicidal thoughts, implied/referenced past child abuse/abusive father, Christianity/Catholicism hate, British English lessons, Latin lessons, references to ancient Roman religion, mythology and lore. (I am no expert so sorry for Latin language/historical inaccuracies.) No beta we die like Geta.

Geta has always wondered what the gods have planned for him.

Of course, he knows his birth rite is being emperor, albeit grudgingly a Co-emperor, with his mad brother. Yet, he still enjoys the power and wealth that comes with being emperor.

Still, his mind also wonders to the inevitable…his death. How have the gods panned out his life? When will he die? Much to his ego, he always assumed it would be when he is old and has lived a full life as a rich emperor, with a grandiose funeral and many people mourning—the entirety of Rome, he hopes.

But, he never foresees this…

One moment Geta is in the palace and the next he is…nowhere?

His vision goes black. It feels like he’s floating in an endless abyss. It reminds him of when he and his brother Caracalla would go swimming as children. He always loved how freeing it felt to lie flat on his back, letting the ocean guide him away from any troubles that were tormenting him.

But in this case, in this pitch black atmosphere, he feels slightly uneasy. He cannot see a thing. He only senses his heart thumping in his chest and hears his breathing rapidly increase by the second.

His mind takes a moment to comprehend what is happening and soon is full with endless questions.

What is this place?

This is no—dare he says it—Elysium.

Unless, there is no such thing as—

He stops himself. He is in no mood to denounce his religion now.

Geta inhales a shaky breath, trying to steady himself. He tries to take a step forward, but he finds his leg is stiff. He slowly realises his limbs feel as though they weigh a ton.

He attempts to move again. He uses all his strength, groaning at the strain on his body to move. Slowly, he starts to move, gliding through the unknown.

A flicker of light emits in the distance. An exit perhaps? His legs pick up speed, running to, what he hopes to be, safety. As Geta reaches closer to the light, he makes out a field of wheat under a blanket of blue sky—the Elysian fields.

He cannot help but grin. A feeling of warmth and protection grows in his body at the familiarity of it. He will be safe there, even if it means he has died.

His outstretched hand reaches the doorway to Elysium, but just as his finger grazes it, it vanishes before his eyes, plunging him into darkness again. He gasps. Dread fills his body.

No, no, no, no.

Is this all a trick?

Geta grows cold again. His head lowers in shame and he feels tears prick his eyes.

Before he can let them fall, he sees two glowing hands reach out and hold his. He looks up, blinking away the tears so he can clear his blurry vision. Is he seeing what he thinks he is seeing?

The glowing hands belong to a woman, her hair flows all around her as if she is standing in a gentle summer breeze. He cannot make out what colour her hair or robe is, or what shade her skin is.

She glows a white almost blinding light, with a thin orange fire outlining her figure—similar to a flickering candlelight.

Her face is still blurry, with no features to be seen. He blinks again, thinking it is a few tears being stubborn. But he still cannot make out her face.

He does not feel scared though. This great presence is all too calming. He wants to speak, to ask who she is, but he opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He does not know what to say exactly.

“You are not ready yet, my child,” her soothing voice lands in his mind.

His mouth is dry. He goes to speak again, but the same problem arises. She lets go of his hands, cradling his cheeks. Her hands are warm and comforting. He closes his eyes, unable to resist leaning into her touch further. Finally, she places a kiss on his forehead.

Abruptly, she pushes him away gently.

Geta’s body glides backwards fast. Her shining figure becomes smaller and smaller, shrinking in the distance. With his limited information about what is happening, he can only assume this means he's going back home, to the palace in Rome. How will he explain this to anyone?

Suddenly, the atmosphere around him rips. It tears like a piece of paper, revealing a blinding white vision, his eyes burning. His arms wrap around his head, covering his eyes. His eardrums pound as the environment shakes as though he is in the middle of an earthquake and rumbles with incredible volume.

He cowers and moves his arms, trying to also cover his ears from the noise, but it's no use. The deafening sound, unsteady oscillation, rumbling, and, blinding light—it's excruciating.

Geta screams in pain and fear, praying that it ends. The blinding white grows and grows until it swallows him up.

And then, it all goes still…silent.

He opens his eyes, blinking. His ears ring loudly, almost as deafening as the rumbling. He's lying flat on the ground, but not outside. He's inside. But it does not look like a building he recognises.

He rises and is immediately hit with a pounding in his head. His legs wobble but he ably regains stability. He looks around the room. The interior design, from the furniture down to the walls and layout, is completely alien to him.

By the gods, where is he?

He stands there for gods knows how long, contemplating his life and purpose when a presence enters the room, rubbing his temple with a trembling hand.

He turns, meeting his gaze with a young woman. However, she is dressed in the most bizarre clothing—thick blue fabric wrapped tightly around her legs and held together around her waist with a shiny metallic object which looks a bit like a silver coin to him. On her top half, she wears a cloth, loose and light pink with short sleeves, and stitching around the hem. And the most bizarre of all, a contraption that looks like two big round pieces of glass in front of her eyes, that rests on her nose and has two arms reaching behind her ears. It looks like a second pair of eyes, like bug eyes.

They stare at each other in shock for a few long seconds until the woman lets out an ear-piercingly loud scream.

Geta covers his ears quickly, clutching the sides of his head. He glowers from the ringing in his ears and the pounding head he already feels added onto this newfound pain from her screaming.

The scream finally stops but she still looks petrified, as does Geta, probably. He watches her eyes dart frantically around the room, landing on the broom resting against the wall. Her hands reach for it, dropping a small rectangular device from her hand in the action. Geta wants to inspect whatever contraption it is—if he were in a different circumstance, that is. Right now, he believes the best thing to do is to stand completely and utterly still, like a statue. He's afraid of this new environment.

Why have I been sent here?

She jabs the broom close to his torso, like she is wielding a spear. He notes that she is clearly not a gladiatrix, since her angle is off. And her feeble arms are too weak for her to even be considered one. He concludes that she is a very poor fighter.

Still, he looks utterly shocked at her blasphemy. Does she know he is an emperor? Purposefully trying to inflict harm or kill a god-emperor calls for the punishment of death!

She shoos him, continuing to jab the broom in his general direction, but never actually hitting him.

Geta’s eyes snap down at the broom which, from her jabbing motion, has blown dust into his face and, most importantly, his luxurious robes. He coughs, flapping his hands to rid the dust cloud from his face. Once cleared, he tries to brush the dust particles from his robes. A scowl forms on his face. He shouts at her in Latin, his language, but she has no idea what he is saying.

She then yells at him in her language, her frustration evidently reaching the surface. To which he grimaces at her foreign words. A foreigner committing sacrilege against her emperor? How unsurprising, he thinks to himself.

She seems to growl out of exasperation, letting go of the broom. The wooden handle clackers against the hardwood floor.

Suddenly, a loud unrecognisable noise from outside resounds around the room, having flown in through the open window.

His head snaps to the direction of the noise, alert.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her outstretched arm, seemingly trying to stop him, but he's already running to the window. He leans over, holding onto the window sill for leverage, gazing out into the surrounding view—detailing roads, buildings, and other establishments. It is nothing like he has ever seen before.

The noise sounds like it should belong to some sort of animal or beast, but he sees nothing of the sort—only big chariots, all of different colours, which emit smoke and have four black wheels in each corner, driving on the road.

Throughout his life in Rome as Emperor, he held the privilege of being endowed with hundreds of gifts from all over and had been granted the opportunity to travel all around the world, to places where they had occupied new territories—and not once has he ever seen buildings or technology like this. It is mind-boggling.

Where is this place?

Behind him, she grabs her device from the floor where she dropped it. He feels her footsteps thud on the floor, stopping beside him. She stares at him, desperately wanting to know what is going on inside of his head, as does he.

It all becomes too much for Geta. He slowly steps back away from the window, yet his eyes forbid him to look away from the unfamiliar sight outside. His breath quickens as his boundless thoughts race through his dizzying head. He feels as though he is on a different planet, if that is possible. Maybe he can find a soothsayer to help him…anyone…anything.

His head feels weightless, the blood rushing far too rapidly. His stomach churns. His legs grow weak, his body is suddenly too heavy to uphold. His hearing starts to go, unhearing the noise of the funny chariots. His vision goes speckled, black spots appearing, before they swallow him whole. He does not remember falling backwards.

YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS.

A/N: ummm hey yes I am publishing another Gladiator 2 fanfic when I haven't even finished the first one (yet) <3 It’s because I am way too impatient and need to share this with you all NOW. I hope you liked it! Comments are always lovely to read and reblogs are appreciated! :)

Tag list for this fanfic: (comment if you want to be added)

[cjlouwho]

Bucktommy all dressed up and dancing together

oh you gave me the perfect excuse to write buck and tommy dancing to the song I put on repeat and imagine them having played at their wedding. If you'd like to listen before, after, or while reading, here you go.

“You look fancy!” Buck noted with a smile as he walked into their new place. “Got a hot date I don't know about?”

Tommy was dressed to the nines. A black and white tux with a bowtie, hair perfectly coiffed. It was a bit confusing, seeing as they had planned to order tacos and spend the evening putting furniture together once Buck got off work.

“Something like that,” Tommy replied slyly. “Go get changed. I've got your tux on the bed.”

Buck tilted his head, confused. “Where are we going?”

“Who said we were going anywhere?”

“Tommy, I- I don't get it.”

“Humor me, Buckley.”

“Oh, we're whipping out the last name, are we?” Buck asked, wiggling his eyebrows as he headed for the bedroom. “Okay, Kinard, I'll play along with your silly little games.”

Buck went into their room and got changed, put on his dress shoes and fixed his hair as well. He had no idea what was going on, but he couldn't help the butterflies in his stomach. Tommy had a way of making Buck feel like he was the only person in the world. And even though he didn't know what was about to happen, he had a feeling this was one of those times.

He came back into the living room to dimmed lights, candles lit, and Tommy holding a bouquet of red roses.

Now Buck felt a little worried. His eyes widened. “Did I forget an anniversary? Oh my God, Tommy, I-”

Tommy moved in closer, cutting off his worries with a kiss, two fingers under the chin as per usual.

“You did not forget an anniversary,” he whispered against Buck's lips before pulling back from him and handing over the flowers. “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Well,” Buck smelled the flowers, “you succeeded.”

Tommy shrugged. “You're always surprising me, keeping me on my toes, figured I should return the favor sometime.”

“Oh please, you surprise me every day. I'm always learning something new about you.”

Tommy held out his hand for Buck to take, and Buck glanced between him and the flowers. “Shouldn't I put these in a vase?”

“We will in a minute,” he nodded toward the table near them, hand still outstretched. “Lay them there for now.”

Buck gently set them down, then placed his hand in Tommy's. He let Tommy lead them to the center of the living room, where he then stopped.

“What're we doing?” Buck asked, utterly confused.

Tommy pulled their stereo remote out of his pants pocket, pressed a button, then stuffed it back into his pocket. He kept his hold on Buck's hand, but took a couple steps back, asking, “May I have this dance?”

The music began and, although he felt like he had just arrived on a new planet and skipped the tour, Buck said, “Of course.”

From this moment, life has begun

From this moment, you are the one

Right beside you is where I belong,

From this moment on

“You look beautiful tonight.” Tommy spoke softly, bringing Buck close to him. They each had an arm wrapped around the other's waist, their other hands still intertwined as they began to dance.

“Thank you. My boyfriend picked my outfit for me.”

“Oh he did, did he?”

“Mhm.”

“He's got good taste.”

Buck swore Tommy's eyes twinkled as they stared at one another. The whole world could have imploded in that moment and Buck would have been none the wiser.

“Hell yeah he does. You should, uh, should see how good he looks though. Smokin' hot.”

From this moment, I have been blessed

I live only for your happiness

And for your love, I'd give my last breath

From this moment on

“Not that I'm complaining but, um, what's all this for?” Buck asked.

Tommy let out a sigh. “I was thinking about how we never got to dance at Maddie's wedding, and that's a damn shame. I was looking forward to it.”

Buck couldn't help but laugh. “That was six months ago, Tommy!”

“Six months too long.”

I give my hand to you with all my heart

I can't wait to live my life with you, I can't wait to start

You and I will never be apart

My dreams came true because of you

Sometimes, Buck felt like he was dreaming. That Tommy was a figment of his imagination. Someone he created to make himself feel complete.

And maybe another person couldn't actually complete you, but Tommy came pretty damn close.

Buck moved his arms to drape over Tommy's shoulders, hands cradling at the nape of his neck. Tommy used the change as an opportunity to bring them even closer, his arms around Buck's waist, hands settled at the bottom of his back.

“I love this song,” Buck said, resting his head on Tommy's shoulder. “Reminds me of when I was little, hearing it on the radio.”

From this moment, as long as I live

I will love you, I promise you this

There is nothing, I wouldn't give

From this moment on

“Anything Shania is a favorite of mine, but you know that already.”

Buck smiled, humming as he turned his head to nuzzle into Tommy's neck. “Walking in on you dancing to Any Man of Mine in your underwear? I'll never forget that one.”

Tommy snorted. “It's a wonder you didn't leave me right then and there.”

“It's a wonder I didn't propose right then and there.” When Buck realized what he said, his body stiffened. He went to pull back, to ask if that was too much, but Tommy kept him close.

“I would've said yes.”

The words were spoken barely above a whisper. Buck almost missed it completely. But he didn't. He heard Tommy and it made his heart skip a beat. He melted into him further.

Oh, you're the reason I believe in love

And you're the answer to my prayers from up above

All we need is just the two of us

My dreams came true because of you

Technically, they weren't dancing anymore. Instead swaying gently as they held each other up.

Buck lifted his head slightly, just enough to look into Tommy's eyes. “Did we just sort of propose to each other?”

Tommy smiled, his nose scrunching up in the way Buck loved so much. “I don't know. A little bit, I think. A promise, maybe?”

Buck nodded, laid his head back down. “I like that.”

From this moment, as long as I live

I will love you, I promise you this

There is nothing I wouldn't give

From this moment, I will love you

As long as I live, from this moment on

Buck made no effort to release himself from Tommy's grasp as the song ended. He closed his eyes, now wet with tears as he became overwhelmed by the amount of love he felt. “Can we play it again?” he muttered out, willing his voice not to break.

Tommy moved just enough to hit replay on the remote and press a lingering kiss to Buck's forehead. “As many times as you want.”

From this moment, life has begun

From this moment, you are the one

Right beside you is where I belong

From this moment on...

[peachsayshi]

Hey Peach! How are you?

I want to request number 64 (Unexpected kisses that get all hot and heavy) with geto suguru please and thank you 🌸💓

➳  minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

⥽ notes: hello, sweets! thank you so much for sending over this request. I'm sorry it took me some time to write out but I do hope you enjoy this little scenario between geto x reader! I hope you are doing well! tags: non-curse au; geto x reader are "rivals". a little angsty and steamy.

"why do you hate me?" suguru asks, but he's standing far too close to your liking. his pretty boy smile a glow in the shadows, his body closing in as he takes another step forward.

you stutter when you breathe, your chest rising and falling. you place one hand against his heart, feeling it beat as you halt his movements. your eyes shift to the window behind you, watching the rain shower underneath the thunderous applause from clouds above.

there is truly no escaping. a part of you wishing you had left with your group in the morning as intended. but now you're stuck here all by yourself with suguru. with no place to go, and no light to guide you out.

"I don't hate you," you say through gritted teeth, irritation igniting in the depths of your core. you swallow the uncomfortable knot in your throat.

it's a shame that you can't get along with suguru. it's not like you haven't tried, but for whatever reason that man manages to get under your skin in ways you can't even explain. you don't know if it's his infuriating attention to detail, or the fact that he knows what is the right thing to say to send you over the edge.

"you do," he replies, making you catch your breath because he actually sounds disappointed.

two hands come to both sides of your face, his palms pressing against the wall as he looks down at you. a crackle of lighting shatters the sky, illuminating the serious expression on his infuriatingly handsome features.

how did you both end up here after being in a heated argument only a few minutes ago?

"well, you don't like me either," you insist, lifting your head high and turning your chin up proudly.

he taps his thumb against the wall, contemplative. a twitch in his jaw as he takes in your words.

"I never said I didn't like you-"

"of course you did," you bite back, stubborn to believe that these words are true because why else do you both keep getting off on the wrong foot.

"when?"

your brain filters through every memory, every conversation, every exchange to recall any ounce of evidence to validate your statement.

suguru dips his head down, your hand squeezing the fabric of his shirt. so tight your knuckles turn white, and you're ready to push him away. but your spine tingles when you feel him lightly graze his lips over yours, his breath fanning your skin.

"when?" he repeats.

your mind spins, your heart races. you find yourself easing your grip, while Suguru's hand meets your waist.

he must be teasing you, you think. playing a dirty joke. but before you can fight back, he leans in for a kiss, pressing his mouth firmly against yours.

the gesture is soft and kind. so sweet it's like you're eating a spoonful of sugar. he pecks your mouth once, pulls away to give you a second, before returning for another kiss.

waiting, hoping, you'll invite him for more.

and when you do he slides his tongue hungrily, one hand dropping to the curve of your shoulder while the other reaches for your thigh to hook your leg over his hip, keeping you pinned up against the wall.

you rock your hips against him, desperate for friction. and when he returns the gesture it only makes you moan. an explosion erupts from within - engulfing you with a desire that's foreign to your being. there's a clash of lips, teeth and tongue - nips and kisses that make the space between your legs pulse. your hand grips onto his hair, the other curling around his neck.

you don't even want to breathe. you want to keep fighting. keep arguing. and this new form of communication works out nicely for you, you think.

but there's a flicker above, warm light colliding against the cool bolts from the lightning outside. the power returns abruptly, shocking you and suguru when you both stop kissing to stare up at the ceiling.

you're both panting, limbs linked as you remain intertwined in complications that you don't have the time to sift through at the moment.

suguru returns to look at you, licking his lips to taste you once more. he eases his hold, helps readjust your posture as he takes a small step back. his gaze never leaves yours, confusion boiling in his irises. you part your lips to say his name, but instead he cups your cheeks with both palms and leaves one more innocent kiss in his wake.

you are stunned when he drops his hands, a tiny grin a sign of relief.

he hums, "maybe, you don't hate me either..."

your heart is feverish watching him walk away, and for the first time in your life, he manages to leave you speechless.

requests for these prompts are closed.

[ticklygiggles]

Ten minutes in heaven | Wrioney [n$fw]

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY IN THE AFTERNOON WONDERFUL FABI @lovelynim! I hope you enjoy this little gift! It's my first time working Wrioney, I hope I made them justice and you like this! I LOVE YOU ❤️

Summary: Wriothesley not only stood him up, but also ghosted him. It's only Lyney is so mad. 

Words: 2k+

“Sigewinne, let me out! I'm not kidding!” 

“Nope.” The sweet voice came from outside. “I'm tired of listening to you both bickering, so you'll both stay there until you reconcile.” They couldn't see her, but Sigewinne nodded, proud of herself. “Or else you won't get out. I'll be back in ten minutes.”

00:01:00

Lyney whined, pressing his forehead against the wooden door. If he had known that his visit to the Fortress of Meripide would end with him locked in that small closet with the person he least wanted to be around at that moment– well, he wouldn't have gone in the first place.

Besides, he had only gone for one reason: he wanted to fight. He wanted to argue with the administrator of the place, also called Wriothesley, also called his boyfriend. Turning his head slightly, he looked at Wriothesley standing behind him, arms crossed above his broad chest, with his imposing stature and his warm eyes fixed on Lyney. Lyney frowned, also crossing his arms and leaning his back against the door. Wriothesley chuckled and a deep blush spread across his cheeks from pure anger; he bared his fangs in a snarl, glaring at the other man. 

“What?!” 

Wriothesley shook his head softly, “are you really that mad at me, kitten?” 

Somehow, Lyney felt heat radiating from his vision, he was ready to attack at any second. “Don't call me that! I hate you so much, get me out!” 

Wriothesley chuckled again, shrugging his shoulders. “I can't. Sigewinne has the key and I'm not planning on destroying my office.”

“Hmph!”

00:02:07

Lyney couldn't decipher the emotion in Wriothesley's eyes. Something between sadness and tenderness and shame and love– he couldn't stand looking at him anymore and he closed his eyes, turning his head. 

“Listen, kitten-” 

“Don't call me that.”

“Lyney, I'm truly sorry about what I did,” Wriothesley said, gently touching Lyney’s elbow, but the magician jerked away. “You know my work here is not easy, I truly wanted to be there on time, but then Neuvillette came by and I had to take care of some stuff and-”

“It's not just that!” 

Lyney hated that he felt his eyes tearing up. He was used to Wriothesley's rudeness, but knew it was not on purpose. It was true that his job wasn't exactly an easy one, and Lyney forgave every time Wriothesley missed one of their dates or arrived ridiculously late, because he understood, he really did. But just because he knew that Wriothesley's job kept him busy most of the time, Lyney made sure to invite him to a super important show he was having months in advance, and he made sure to remind Wriothesley every single week, every single day and he promised so sure of himself that he was going to be there. 

But of course, he wasn't, but the worst thing was that it had been two weeks since that day and Lyney had heard absolutely nothing from Wriothesley in all that time! He even thought that something bad had happened to him, but what was his surprise when he found him stuck in his office; when their eyes met, Wriothesley didn't even seem surprised to see Lyney and greeted him as he normally did. Wasn't that too much?! 

“I can't believe you treated me like that. And you know it's not only about you not coming to see my show, but you just not reaching me in two whole weeks! Do you know how worried I was?!” 

“I'm so sorry, I really have no excuse for that,” Wriothesley said sincerely, scratching the back of his head. “I thought you'd be really angry with me, so I wanted to give you your space, but… I think I messed up even more.”

“Yes you did!” Lyney wiped the tears from his cheeks angrily, and taking a single step forward, he encountered Wriothesley's body and punched him in the chest. “I felt so bad! I thought you didn't want to see me anymore! You're so stupid, Wriothesley!” 

Perfect, now he was really crying. Lyney whined and growled when Wriothesley suddenly hugged him, pressing him tightly against his chest. He struggled, trying to break free from the embrace, he didn't want to be comforted, he wanted Wriothesley to know that he had made him feel terribly bad! 

“I'm truly sorry, Lyney,” Wriothesley said softly, his deep voice against Lyney's ear making him shiver. “I was just careless and stupid. I truly wanted to go see you, but I didn't dare– I didn't know how to face you and what to say to you after promising for months that I would be there. I'm sorry, kitten.” 

Lyney pressed his face against Wriothesley’s chest and cried. The last two weeks had been hell for him. Had Wriothesley stopped loving him? Had he missed Lyney's show because he never  wanted to see him again? Worse yet, had something happened to him? Did he get into an accident when he was on his way to the show? A thousand and one thoughts ran through his mind, they didn't let him sleep, eat, and sometimes even breathe. He was afraid to go to the Fortress of Meripide because he didn't want to know if something bad happened to Wriothesley, but in the end he did and to find him there… just working. 

“I was scared! I hate you so much, Wriothesley!” 

That was a lie, of course he didn't hate him, on the contrary, the only reason he was there was because he loved him desperately. His heart longed to see him safe and sound, he wanted to be in Wriothesley's arms again and hear his voice. Lyney just couldn't hate him because he loved him too much. 

Wriothesley gently cupped his flushed, wet cheeks, his thumbs gently rubbing under his eyes to wipe the falling tears away. He pressed a tender kiss to Lyney’s forehead, then his nose and the corner of his mouth before pressing their foreheads together. 

“Please forgive me, Lyney. Just this once. I promise I'll do better.” 

Lyney whined, his eyes crossing a little as he tried to look at Wriothesley’s. “I just want you to let me know you won't come and if you're okay! I understand about your stupid job!” 

Wriothesley chuckled and Lyney couldn't help but smile, gently hitting his arm. “You are so stupid!” 

00:04:45

Wriothesley nodded, “I am. I missed you very much, kitten.” 

Lyney pouted and with a smile, Wriothesley kissed his lips. A small, chaste kiss that made Lyney feel butterflies, but a small kiss like that wasn't enough for the two weeks they hadn't seen each other. Lyney wrapped his arms around Wriothesley's waist and brought him close to him, his tongue pushing between the other's lips, making him gasp into Lyney's mouth. Wriothesley grabbed the back of Lyney's head, tilting his head back slightly so he could kiss him better. A war broke out within their mouths; gasps and soft moans escaped their lips as they hungrily devoured each other. 

Lyney felt light-headed, breathless. His heart was beating fast, bouncing within his chest. He had missed Wriothesley's passionate kisses so much, his strong hands holding his face, the warmth of his body against him. He had missed it so much. He opened one of his eyes, his sight slightly blurry with tears; Wriothesley's expression was a sight to behold… but why was he looking so happy after the torture he made Lyney go through? He had forgiven him, but would he get out of this without being punished? Of course not! 

Lyney tapped his fingers against Wriothesley’s waist, between those fierce kisses, Wriothesley barely noticed the light touch on his waist, but it was very different when Lyney pressed that super sensitive spot just above Wriothesley's hips. 

00:05:37

Wriothesley gasped, quickly pulling apart and grabbing Lyney's shoulders to push him away. “What are you- ngh!” His words got stuck in his throat, Lyney was smirking widely.

“What? Did you really think I won't punish you? Silly Duke.” 

Wriothesley opened his mouth to say something else, but Lyney pressed against him, cornering him against the wall as his light fingers clawed at Wriothesley’s hips, making him jump and break into loud laughter. He arched his back, but Lyney simply pressed against him tighter, one of his legs between Wriothesley's. He always found it funny how a big guy like Wriothesley became almost useless when tickled; even someone small like Lyney could manhandle him a bit like this. 

Wriothesley's hands tried to push Lyney away, but when his nimble fingers moved under his arms, Wriothesley pressed his arms to his sides, laughing brightly. He squirmed and begged between gasps and laughs and squeals for Lyney to stop, but his pleas fell in deaf ears. 

“Ah, so your armpits are still really ticklish, hmm? What about here?” 

“N-NoHOho! K-KihiHIhitten, plehehease!” 

Snorty giggles left his mouth when Lyney started to wiggle his fingers against the sides of his neck, a sweet spot the magician especially loved. It made Wriothesley so desperate, his laughter panicking and his squirming intensifying. It seemed completely torturous to him and Lyney couldn't help but feel a little sadistic seeing Wriothesley's state. He was flushing already, even crying as he mercilessly tickled his neck and- oh? 

00:06:40

“You are disgusting, Wriothesley. Why are you grinding against my thigh? Ah, I see, you liked your tickles too much?” 

Wriothesley shook his head, going crazy with the tickling on his neck. His hands lacked the strength to push Lyney's fingers away, and Lyney laughed.

“S-Stohop, PLEHEASE, I- NGH!”

“You don't want me to stop,” Lyney purred, the maddening tickling stopping so he could palm Wriothesley's hardening cock above his clothes. “You're not supposed to enjoy your punishments, Wriothesley.” Lyney wrapped the red tie around his hand and pulled at it, bringing Wriothesley’s face close to his. “I really should show you how pissed I am with you, hmm?” 

“K-Kitten,” Wriothesley gulped, his teary eyes blinking and trying to find a way out. Lyney smirked. “I s-said I'm sorry. And you said… you forgave me.” 

Lyney shrugged, “and I did, but you need to learn your lesson. Do not mess with me again, Wriothesley.” 

Wriothesley gasped when Lyney suddenly dropped on his knees in front of him, his fingers hooking on the waistband of his pants and the elastic of his underwear and pulled them down to his knees at once. Wriothesley whimpered and he tried to cover his half hard dick, but Lyney slapped his big hands away and took Wriothesley’s cock between his smaller hands. 

His cock wasn't even half its usual size, but Lyney knew what to do. He lifted the cock with one hand and his tongue traced a warm, wet path of saliva from Wriothesley's balls to the tip. Wriothesley's legs shook and he pressed a hand against his mouth to keep from making a sound. Lyney laughed, closing his mouth around the tip and circling with his tongue. The salty taste of precum exploded in his mouth as his hand moved up and down slowly, stroking the growing length. 

“L-Lyney,” he moaned, his voice muffled behind his hand. 

“There we go,” Lyney said, pulling the cock out of his mouth with a pop and it kept up, moist and dripping. “That was fast, huh? Were you pent up? Did you miss me during these two weeks? You just wanted to fuck me, right?” He slapped the tip of Wriothesley's cock and he trembled, a deep moan leaving his mouth. 

“I- I didn't only miss f-fucking you, I-”

“You didn't? I don't believe you,” Lyney said with a shrug, his hand wrapping around Wriothesley's cock again, stroking him fast. “I think you just wanted to put this thing on my butt all these days.” 

Wriothesley shook his head, grunting and moaning, his hips circling and thrusting. Lyney smirked, oh his poor Wriothesley was so close to cum. He really was pent up, hmm? What a shame~

00:08:59

“No you can't.” Lyney stopped, his hands moving away, and Wriothesley cried, clenching his dick as trying to reach his peak, but it was useless. 

“H-Huh?! W-Why not?!”

Lyney pouted, looking at Wriothesley's cock as the tip of his finger tapped against the wet head, making it twitch. “It's frustrating right?” Lyney pressed a kiss to the tip and looked up at Wriothesley. “That's how you make me feel, Wrio. So. Frustrated.” 

Lyney stuck his tongue out and licked the salty precum before pushing the whole length into his mouth. Wriothesley was huge, but Lyney wasn't scared of it anymore, rather he was hungry. Wriothesley moaned loudly, his hands moving to grip at Lyney's hair. The magician frowned and slapped at the hands, pushing them away from him as he started to bobble his head, sucking Wriothesley. One of his hands gripped Wriothesley's thighs to keep his balance while the other started to tickle his balls.

Wriothesley gasped. “Nngh! H-Hold on! Hold ohohon! D-dohon't tickle me t-tohoo!”

He squirmed and Lyney frowned, pressing his hand against Wriothesley's hip to keep him in place. 

“L-Lyney… ah! Ah! I'm c-cumming. I'm- 

“Phaw!” 

00:09:15

“N-No, please! Le-Let me cum, please. Please!” Tears of despair fell down Wriothesley's cheeks. Oh, Lyney loved seeing him so desperate. He smiled angelically. 

“Ow, you wanted to cum, Wrio? I'm so sorry, I had no idea!” Lyney raised, placing Wriothesley's cock between his legs, making him hiss. “You really wanted to cum?” He whispered against Wriothesley's lips and he nodded desperately. “I really wanted to see you these two weeks.” 

Wriothesley whined, “I'm sorry, Lyney. I'm s-sorry- anh!” 

Lyney began to move his hips, squeezing Wriothesley's cock between his thighs. The duke moaned, his eyes crossing. Lyney smirked, his fingers flicking Wriothesley's hardened nipples over his suit. “Are you feeling well, your excellency?” Wriothesley shuddered, nodding as his breathing became erratic. He was close again. “Oh no, his excellency is going to cum, does he deserve it?” 

“Yes! Yes, please don't stop, please, I-”

00:10:03

“I am back! Are you guys reconciled?” 

Wriothesley gasped and Lyney giggled when he pressed him tightly against him, but he pulled away, leaving his cock twitching with yet another ruined orgasm. 

“What a shame, you were so close, Wriothesley,” he whispered, shrugging and winking at him before turning around. “We're ready, Sigewinne, we're good again.”

“Great! Then I'll open the door.” Lyney heard the key turning in the bolt and the padlock opening, Sigewinne's small hand closed around the knob and she turned it, trying to open it. ‘'Huh?! Why can't I open it?!” 

A wide smile appeared on Lyney's face as a hand pressed against the door, right next to his head.

“Sorry, Sigewinne,” Wriothesley said, his voice strained. “We still… need to talk.”

“Ah I see,” Sigewinne said, leaving the knob. “Then I'll let you to it then. I'll be back in another ten minutes!” 

They both heard small footsteps walking away and then the office door opening and closing. Lyney laughed softly. 

“Do you need something, Wrio?” 

00:01:01

“Yes and we have ten minutes for it.” Lyney gasped when Wriothesley pulled his shorts and underwear down, freeing his hard cock. A finger touched his butthole and he whimpered, holding onto the door. “Let's see how much you missed me, Kitten.” 

Lyney purred. “I wonder~” 

Lyney wondered if ten minutes would be enough to satisfy Wriothesley… and himself after being away for two whole weeks. Ah, make-up sex was always the best.

[call-me-copycat]

Only You

➤ Welcome - Introduction and request rules (requests are open + some info about me)

▶ Characters: Shinso x GN Reader

▶ Genre: Comfort

▶ Summary: You've been feeling a little forgotten, Shinso's popularity bringing in people who take up more of his time. Shinso, however, lets you know that you're far from that.

▶ Word Count: 3134

▶ Warnings: Feelings of insecurity

U.A was the school everyone went to when they dreamed big. It was easy to do such a thing in such a large, colorful world. One of the biggest things a person could dream of was being a hero, a dream everyone possibly held at one point. Over time, as one grew they realized that that's all it was - a dream. And so, it was dropped.

You admired Hitoshi since day 1. He quickly proved that he wasn't like the others, putting up with all negative allegations thrown at him and continuing to push forward towards that dream he held so close to his heart. You liked to say that heart was made of gold.

It was at the entrance exam that you noticed him, standing slightly aways from the large group crowding the doors. Back then, he seemed just like another face in the crowd. But you kept running into him. Over and over. You saw how frustrated he became, how unfair the exam was towards those without physical quirks. You worked up the courage and talked to him after the exam was over, something you didn't regret doing despite the hushed whispers that would go on around you two.

It was just you and him. Versus the world.

It used to be so simple. He got into the General Course, you in the Hero Course. Still, you continued pushing and pushing him - something you didn't even have to do much of seeing as his drive to become a hero was a burning flame of passion that flared with an intensity that'd put others to shame.

You and him.

School was the only time you used to see him, and that eventually morphed into going to his house to study every now and then. Then, to taking casual walks to the corner store. All the way to you both taking daily bike rides together, and at that point it had gotten where you both couldn't go a single day without seeing each other.

You both matched each other perfectly when it came to passion. His passion to achieve, and yours to support and love almost mirrored each other. It was one of the reasons why he showed up on your door step one night, his face red as he pushed a single rose into your hands.

You both kept at it, and when two passionate souls get together to achieve something it's only bound to go one way.

And... He did it. He made it to the Hero Course. Class of 2-A, with a new seat right next to yours.

But...

You couldn't help but feel that things weren't going as planned. You thought it would be seamless, he'd go into the Hero Course and would just be another student as all the others.

You had forgotten just how popular the Hero Course was.

It was natural for him to garner attention. He had the looks and the charmingly grumpy personality, and paired with that burning passion that Hero Course students seem to love it made sense that he'd be seen as 'the perfect hero student'.

Suddenly it wasn't just you and him.

People greeted him in the halls, people invited him to lunch, people asked him to come to their houses. They were invading your space, and you couldn't go anywhere without seeing at least one person trying to befriend him.

It began to drive you mad. Of course you weren't entirely against the fact that people liked him now. But... Where were you in this equation? With so many new faces, would he discover other people he liked better? What if he got tired of you?

Thoughts like these plagued your mind daily. You couldn't help but tighten the grip you had on your bag as you reminisced on the beginning of your first year. Where were these people then?

"Hey. "

You jumped a bit at the sudden hand Hitoshi placed on your shoulder. It was the end of the school day, and you both were walking down the empty halls (hopefully without interruption).

As you looked up at him, he couldn't help but feel something was off about you. Your demeanor just wasn't the same, it hadn't been for the past few days - something only he could tell.

"Everything alright?" His tone was soft, a stark contrast from how he normally greets others.

You turned your full attention onto him. His bag was left a little ways open, one of his shoes were untied, and his hair was ruffled in its usual messy stance. You could only think of how much you cherished him in that moment. There didn't seem to be a way you could confess your worries without coming off as greedy.

"I... I'm sorry if this comes off as a little selfish, but..." Sighing, you could only try to piece together how you'd word this. In response to your furrowed expression, Hitoshi gingerly went up and brought his arms around you. He wasn't one prone to outwardly showing affection much, but he felt this moment was an exception.

He ran his fingers gently through your locks of hair as he sensed you were getting worked up, and frowned at the thought. Selfish? You were the light in his life, the cheerleader he never knew he needed. You were the furthest from it.

"Nothing you can say will convince me that you're selfish, I'm serious." He kissed the top of your head. "You can tell me anything, what's on your mind?"

You squeezed him a little before pushing yourself away from him so you can focus a little better. It was hard, and you turned to picking at your fingers as you tried explaining yourself. With your attention directed to the ground, you started.

"I...I- We've been together for awhile, haven't we?" Thinking back to all you've been through with him, you began going through it all with a deep fondness. "I remember meeting you at the entrance exam, and I remember the moment you were told you had gotten into UA... And how happy you and I both were", you sighed a bit, remembering every detail.

The anxiety that you both felt the weeks after the entrance exam. The excitement at the announcement of you both getting into UA together. The consolation after it was decided he'd be in General Studies and you in the Hero Course.

"I remember how upset you were when you didn't place the Hero Course. I knew you had the strength though, and that's why I always cheered you on. You know that I was always by your side, right?"

He placed a finger on your chin as he brought your head up so he could face you, not liking the sad expression on your face.

"Of course I know that - you've been by my side since day one. And for that I can never thank you enough for all that support. I- ", he looked away for a split second, seemingly trying to gather his thoughts. When he looked back at you, his dark indigo eyes were filled with warmth as he gazed at you lovingly.

"I don't think I'd have gotten this far without you. "

It was touching, to realize just how much Hitoshi remembered. For him to be able to recall everything you've done all in his name so fast only meant that it had a lasting impact on him. And with that, your heart swelled a little more.

Giving him a wobbly smile, you felt your eyes water a bit before you blinked them back to normal.

"And I'd do it all again, too. But, now that you've transferred to the hero course, I can't help but feel that everyone's starting to notice you and your dedication," It sounded so bad when put into words, and you could only attempt to hide yourself by covering your face with your hands.

"I- it's just that..." Sighing once again, you tried your best to recollect your thoughts. "You've come so far... And I feel that there's so many people noticing you. So many people that only care about those that make it far, but don't care about those at the bottom. Those very people that I'm worried about trying to overturn me..."

Your body tensed at the thought. The contrast between now and then made it all feel as though everything good given was artificial, that no one really truly cared.

And then, there were those that do. Would you even be able to compete with them either?

Clenching your fists in frustration, your vision dropped to the ground as your eyes began to water. "You mean so much to me. So much so, that I can't help but feel - but worry - about... Being forgotten."

With your view on the ground you stop fretting about worrying Hitoshi and let your body go lax as tears dot your face. "A-and I can't help but believe that you're going to find comfort in someone else... That you're going to move onto greater things..."

"...And forget that I was always here."

Shock.

Guilt.

Sympathy.

And so much more suddenly flooded Hitoshi's head as he saw you completely drop every worry you've held on to, on top of him. You've always been such a strong-willed person, so to see you've been worrying about so much for so long shook him to his core.

Hesitantly, gently, he pried your hands away from your face so he could hold you close as he did earlier. Pulling you into a tight embrace, he buried his face in your neck as his own eyes started to water.

"I know that becoming a hero has its issues, this is one of many. To start," Breathing a heavy breath, Hitoshi quickly formed a list in his head.

"I will never find comfort in someone else. I don’t ever want to find comfort in someone else because they won’t be you." It was a maddening thought.

Hitoshi was... Picky.

Most people were too loud. Too bright. Too much, too little, too far, too late. They were either one thing or another, and that's why he consistently struggled to make friends growing up. You however, were perfect.

You fit him, matched his pace. He didn't believe there'd ever be another person on the planet to conveniently check off every single box he had on his list the way you did. Alongside that, he was a simple man. He found you, you found him. Why look for someone else when he was perfectly happy with you now?

Why trade in a phone when the one he had worked fine? Why toss out an old blanket and get a new one when it warms him the way it should? He never understood those types of people, it was too much work to do such things - not to mention shallow.

Before you could get a word in, he was at it again.

"Two; I will never leave you behind. I will never forget you. No matter how far I go, I will always remember you." You always thought of him when he needed it, always kept on pushing him forward despite making it into the Hero Course yourself. You had everything, and could have left him behind. Yet, you didn't. Even if you did, Hitoshi believed he'd easily let you back in - he was just too attached.

It was sweet of him to already have a way to reassure you. He was persistent, one of the many reasons he got so far after all. It helped, hearing your partner himself console you. But the voices in your head wouldn't budge, constantly conjuring up worries and aches you couldn't escape.

Sniffling a bit, you gingerly wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into his touch.

"I-I know... I can tell how much you care for me though everything you do," the air was heavy as you paused. "I just... can't help but worry anyway. I'm always worried. There are so, so many other people that like you, that want to be close with you... It hurts a little at all the things that could happen in the future."

In response, Hitoshi brought a hand up to the back of your head, gently cradling it as he ran his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.

"You're right. "

You could only move your head away and look up at him in shock, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

"It's only to be expected that I'm going to meet many new people on this path that I'm taking. I might even make some new friends," looking down at you, he gave you a smile filled with warmth and love. "But no matter how many new people I meet, none of them will ever mean as much to me as you do. "

You moved your head back down to rest in his chest after the initial shock wore off. His words were more than reassuring, they were loving. But... The pain always lingered.

"I just can't help but wonder how much you'll love me in the future, after meeting so many new people... And wonder how much you even love me now..." You felt a little hazy at the thought, your mind not working as well as it normally did at that moment.

Tightening his the grip around you for a moment, Hitoshi pulled away slightly so he could look at you properly, gently putting a finger under your chin so you'd look at him properly.

"How much do I love you...?"

He repeated your words in a soft tone, his dark indigo eyes never leaving yours.

"How much do I love you, you ask? I don’t think words could describe how much I love you..."

He closed his eyes for a few seconds, taking a deep breath to control his swirling emotions, seemingly creating an inferno inside of his mind.

"You're... You're my first love, the first one I've ever fallen in love with. My-"

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat in an attempt to keep himself from getting too emotional, Hitoshi opened his eyes once again, everything suddenly clear to him.

"My most precious person."

The air was silent between the two of you for a beat, as all you could do was look up at him in admiration. The bond you both held was special, as it developed and grew over time. And bonds formed that way are normally one of the strongest.

"I-"

He put a finger over your lips, effectively silencing you.

"Let me speak. "

You watched as he took a deep breath, looking almost frazzled. It was odd, as Hitoshi was typically one of the best to keep his cool. Seeing him work himself up so much over you simply confessing your worries to him... Words evaded you.

"I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again. You are the most precious person to me. I-"

He let out a small sigh as all the things he’s been keeping inside for too long suddenly poured out, also taking advantage of this moment to truly show you everything he ever felt for you.

Hitoshi was a cold guy on the outside. He kept people away, kept friendships shallow at most - all for the sake of his safety. Bullies tainted his idea of relationships of all shapes and sizes, so he naturally kept himself closed off.

But, you. You were here, and you were in need of consolation. He didn't ever learn how to express himself properly. All he knew was that he loved you, and that he needed to let you know how much he did. Even if he struggled.

"I love you so so much. I-"

He took a deep breath to calm himself down. There was so much he wanted to say, yet at the same time he was at a loss for words.

"No matter where I go, or what happens to me, nothing-" He brought his hands down to grab yours, giving them a quick squeeze, "and I mean absolutely nothing will ever make me stop loving you."

It was hard. Watching him tear himself up so much about your worries. But, he cared. He cared so much. And that was all that mattered to you.

"I may not be a very affectionate person... I know I’m not always there when you need me, and-"

Sensing he was working himself up too much, you took initiative and moved your hands to cup his cheeks. Both your eyes meet, and in between you two, hundreds of unspoken words bounce in the air.

Leaning into your soft touch, Hitoshi brought his hands up and gently wrapped them over yours, relishing the feeling of his skin touching yours. Even in the smallest actions you made him feel so loved. He gazed at you without word, letting all his emotions be conveyed in that look. Love, affection, assurance, protection, and all sorts of emotions that he couldn't quite word.

Hitoshi leaned down just a touch and pressed a soft kiss against your forehead, closing his eyes as he took in the feeling of your warm skin against his lips.

"Nothing and no one can make me stop loving you."

The idea of leaving you behind, and letting some stranger take hold of you almost made his emotions flip 180°. It was such a nauseating thought to him, he cherished you so dearly and fully believed that there wasn't a soul that deserved you in the same way. You both did everything together, both did everything for each other, fit together like puzzle pieces.

"I won’t let anyone take you from me. Especially not some person who doesn’t even-" heaving out a heavy breath, he cut himself off in an attempt to not bring down the mood once more. Neither of you needed that.

It was odd to think about. So odd. Hitoshi also worried the same thing about you in the end as well. He never seemed to show any signs of worry. Never seemed to falter in confidence. Yet, here the two of you were. Sitting and worrying, loving each other too much and hurting yourselves over what might happen.

Suddenly, you felt a little less lonely.

"I-" you grabbed his hands in yours as you stepped back just enough to see his face. "I've been supporting you since day 1. And I intend to continue doing so until the very end." Looking up into his eyes, he smiled a little at the newfound sparkle yours had.

Squeezing his hands in yours, Hitoshi chucked.

"I know. I know you will."

@hitoshisbf

Thank you so much for the request! I'm very sorry for the wait, but I hope this suits your request! I started it on your ask, but I made the mistake of saving it to drafts and in turn it disappeared ( ⌯᷄ ·̫ ⌯᷅ก )

I had to start over in the morning, I apologize for the extra delay (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

If you ever want to request again I'll always be here! Wishing you the best, hope you have a lovely day! ( ˶'ᵕ'˶)و.ᐟ.ᐟ

[simplybakugou]

Story Mode | Mystic Academia: Kaminari Denki's Route

⋆ PAIRING: gamer/streamer!kaminari x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: slight violence and danger; mentions of blood; swearing ⋆ WORD COUNT: 788

A/N: the first written story mode! hehe it’s inspired by yoosung’s route but i did my best to make it my own :)

NOTE: credits to @eraserhead-transparents for the kaminari cap and this part was inspired by day 10 of yoosung's route

Mystic Academia: Kaminari Denki's Route Masterlist

“Dude, are you sure we’re going the right way?” Kaminari whispered, crouching as Sero had instructed him to do in order to avoid being caught on any of the secret base’s security cameras.

“Yeah,” Sero answered plainly, studying his handwritten blueprint of the base as he moved ever so quietly. “I’ve got everything marked down on here and there should be a back door around here…”

“It’s right there!” Kaminari gestured to the closed door just ahead of the pair. “Wait what if it’s locked?”

“You think a locked door is gonna be a problem for me?” Sero asked as they approached the door, turning the door handle to confirm it was in fact locked. He began picking the lock, which he did so with ease. He swung the door ajar slightly, confirming his confidence in his skills.

“You’re right. My bad,” Kaminari said with a firm nod. They peered into the room, which appeared to be empty except for a few black crates that were nailed shut. The boys entered the room, Sero closing the door behind them. Another door was in front of them and Sero repeated his actions and opened it slightly, peering inside carefully.

Kaminari leaned over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse. “Well is there anybody there?”

“Dude, we’re trying to be discreet,” Sero whispered to his friend, bringing a finger to his lips to remind Kaminari of the reason why they were there. Sero opened the door. “Looks like no one’s here.”

It was a small room with grey walls. Only a chair and a desk with multiple computer screens and monitors was present. 

“Whoa looks like your place,” Kaminari commented, eyes widened at the amount of screens before him.

Sero immediately began to start working, sitting himself down at the chair and connecting a USB drive to the server. 

“Are you copying all of the data now?” Kaminari questioned, clearly out of his league and element with this area of work.

“Yup. Once it’s done downloading it’ll wipe the servers completely,” Sero says, typing away at the keyboard in front of the main computer screen. “These losers won’t see it coming.”

“Won’t we now?” A voice erupted from behind Kaminari and Sero.

They whipped their heads to the source of the voice, Kaminari stepping away from the mysterious man. He was in all black with a hood covering his head. His scarlet eyes were piercing as they looked back and forth between Sero and Kaminari. He had a small amused smile on his face, his arms behind his back.

Sero stood up, blocking the USB drive. He had to ensure that they got away with this vital information. He was risking his life for it.

“Who the hell are you?” Sero questioned.

“Aw come on now. No need to be so rude,” Unknown chuckled humorlessly. “I should be asking that since you two broke into my facility.”

“We know you already know who we are,” Kaminari stated plainly. “Isn’t that why you went after our friends?”

“Oh, so the event coordinator is just a friend to you?” Unknown laughed.

Kaminari and Sero were taken aback. The only way for this mysterious man to have known about Kaminari’s feelings for Y/N was if…

“You’ve been reading our messages?!” Sero exclaimed in disbelief.

“Of course.” Unknown shrugged. “I mean I did trap your beloved coordinator in the office after all. Hacking into your chat rooms was nothing.”

His eyes flicked over to Kaminari. Unknown took in his figure, continuing to chuckle amusingly. “It’d be a shame if anything happened to you, Kaminari Denki. I was looking forward to your little love story. But it looks like the MFA love story will have to come to an end.”

Kaminari grabbed the drive from the server behind him and tossed it to Sero. “Run! Get outta here!”

“What?!” Sero exclaimed, catching the drive and looking at his friend as if he were a madman. Sero had no intention of leaving the base without Kaminari. 

“Just go! We got the drive!” Kaminari pushed Sero towards the exit doors. 

Unknown let go of his arms from behind his back, his hand clutching a knife as he lunged forward, a menacing grin on his face as he swung at Kaminari. He pierced Kaminari’s arm with the knife as Kaminari grabbed the chair and pushed it towards Unknown, knocking Unknown back to the floor.

Kaminari winced in pain, clutching his forearm that was gushing blood. But the adrenaline had kicked in and Kaminari couldn’t focus on the pain as he sprinted for the door, his blood dripping in splats onto the floors.

Unknown’s maniacal laughter echoed through the walls. “We’ll get you! You’ll join Paradise soon enough!”

JOIN THE TAGLIST

[flightfoot]

ML Fanfic Recs for 2023: 5K - 10K words

So I’ve been going through and adding particularly good fics I’ve read throughout the year. Only Complete fics, of course. Enjoy!

Plagg eats Destruction while Tikki eats Creation. They choose not to tell their Holders exactly what that means.

Ladybug’s partner joins with Hawk Moth and she can’t figure out why. Not at first, anyway.

Adrien had started expecting the family breakfasts. He had NOT been expecting his father to collapse in the middle of one.

Adrien and Marinette both vaguely remember young playmates from when they were kids. Their first friend. Shame they didn’t remember each other’s names.

Marinette’s itching to win a prize for beating a merfolk in a race. Thankfully, a merman, Chat Noir, decides to challenge her. Pity that Adrien was busy that day.

Adrien finds a tiny, mousy guest in his new home, and makes a new friend.

Marinette helps lead a revolution to overthrow King Adrien with the help of her most trusted ally, Chat Noir. 

Ladybug and Chat Noir find a toddler wandering around during an akuma attack. Who could her parents be?

Chat Noir wrote a tweet mocking himself as Adrien. This totally does not come back to bite him in any way.

An akuma swapped Marinette’s and Chat Noir’s bodies. Marinette AS Marinette, not as Ladybug. This causes some problems.

All this and more below the break!

---

you don’t even know me at all (but I was made for loving you) by @ladyofthenoodle

They didn’t remember each other. The hospital told them there’d been an accident—brain damage—but Alya had told them the truth, later. Who’d they’d been to each other. What they’d given up, and why.

But even with their memories of each other gone, Adrien and Marinette are still inextricably tied together—by law, by their social circles, and by their hearts.

And in the apartment they share, there's only one bed.

Yep, it’s the “there was only one bed” trope XD! I especially love how it was used here, how Adrien and Marinette are strangers now but they had a whole life together, and they pine for each other even without remembering, and how Marinette just can’t believe how in love with her Adrien is even though he doesn’t remember her. I loved the emotional turmoil the two of them went through together in the fic, and the resolution, it’s great!

---

Experimental Feeding by Machina_Fun_T

Plagg eats Destruction*. Tikki eats Creation*.

They don't explain that to their holders.

*Warning - This diet has side effects.

I just found the whole idea here fascinating. Basically, Plagg and Tikki prefer to eat things that align with their concept somehow, and even get boosts from them. They decide not to explain the details to their Holders though (just to mess with them I think) which prompts Adrien and Marinette to both do a lot of experimentation to figure out what their kwami likes to eat the most.

---

Until I Found You by @linnieluna

Working their way up to a settled adulthood, Marinette and Adrien, now 23, gain a reason to believe that they are expecting—way earlier than they ever planned. Still unwed, it evokes a revelation on Adrien’s behalf.

Was it time to take the next step forward?

I loved the emotions here, how Adrien and Marinette reacted to the results of the pregnancy test, how complicated their feelings about it were - and how it prompted Adrien to take action. It’s a really sweet fic!

---

From school bells to wedding bells by @linnieluna

When the superhero duo takes on another exhausting fight against an akuma, Chat Noir does what he never hesitates to do and takes a hit for his partner. The problem being: neither of them knew what power the akuma possessed.

That is... until he is transported into the future. More specifically, to his friend Marinette's wedding.

Ah I love time travel fics! Older!Marinette’s surprised, Younger!Adrien’s bewildered, and Older!Adrien is off knowing exactly what happened and giving his younger self some subtle heads-up. 

It gives Adrien something to look forward to, to cling onto, through bad days in the future at least!

---

u + me = love by @xiueryn

Marinette has a massive crush on Adrien. He has a crush on the superhero, Ladybug. When he says the only person he'll invite as his plus one to an event is Ladybug, Marinette takes her chance to romance him for the night. AU.

(a fanboy and fangirl start to date.)

This is just a fun Ladrien story. Ladybug is happy to oblige in Adrien’s fantasies, and no one else believes that he’s actually dating Ladybug.

---

Disintegrated Pancakes by @scribeofrhapsody

Adrien had started expecting the family breakfasts. He had NOT been expecting his father to collapse in the middle of one.

I’m shocked I haven’t seen more of this sort of thing, with Adrien finding out his father’s Monarch via seeing the Cataclysm wound. I love that Alya gets involved in this, being the person Adrien runs into after fleeing the room, and then Adrien getting to talk things out with Gabriel and Nathalie. Thankfully Gabriel is at least not completely incapable of being reasoned with here, or things could have gone worse than they did. It’s a nice little read, though with an ambiguous ending (at least at the time when I write this).

---

Like Smoke From A Furnace by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

Marinette and Adrien give up their Miraculous. Ladybug and Chat Noir never meet again.

This one’s an angsty fic with a happy ending (though there is a little fluff in there as well.) Adrien and Marinette get together and have a family together, while Scarabella and Kitty Noire continue to fight Monarch for the next decade. But it still eats at Marinette that she never found out what happened to Chat Noir, that he never said anything before they both vanished, and Chat reappearing during an akuma attack when Kitty Noire was taken out of commission doesn’t help with that - especially since he won’t leave her head and she needs to commit herself to her family, doesn’t want to be torn by his presence. She cares about her family too much. 

Ladybug and Chat Noir never meet again... but there are other ways for them to meet up and talk things out.

---

with this ring by @thelibraryloser

She thought “you and me against the world” had sounded like lopsided odds before, when she hadn’t even dreamed “you against me” was a possibility. Or maybe she had dreamed it, but at least in those dreams he’d had cold blue eyes and a stark white mask.

The villain she’d fought today had looked at her through her partner’s own bright green eyes.

It wasn’t meant to be this way.

Short and sweet Sentiadrien enemies canon divergence fic here! I adored Marinette finding out why her kitty seemed to have “betrayed” her, and the righteous anger on his behalf once she figured out that it wasn’t of his own free will. Her comforting Adrien about it was just... really good. It’s a Hawkmoth Defeat fic too, so the immediate aftermath gets covered as well. Adrien needs a hug.

---

Miracoffee by @pauliestorylover

Ever since the last Mr Pigeon attack over nine months ago, Hawkmoth has fallen off the face of the earth, seemingly for good. There’s never been a better chance for an identity reveal—but after keeping her identity a secret for so many years, Marinette feels incredibly nervous about one.

When Chat Noir accidentally finds Ladybug working at a café, Alya comes up with a brilliant idea. If Ladybug and Chat Noir interact regularly in a civilian setting, surely they’ll move towards an identity reveal without outside interference?

Adrien Never Goes To Public School Coffee Shop AU here! It’s funny how he clocks Marinette as being Ladybug IMMEDIATELY. And then after discussing it for awhile, decide to make a bit of a game of the identity reveal, having Chat come in on pre-determined days and seeing whether Ladybug can figure out who she is, all while they get to know each other, even if in passing. 

Love the other Miraculous heroes making cameos as well, Marinette seems annoyed that Nino cosplaying as Carapace actually doesn’t tip anyone off XD.

---

Nothing Else Matters by LiquefiedStars

Marinette couldn’t figure out Chat Noir. He was supposed to be her partner, but instead ended up working for Hawk Moth. Still, her heart betrayed her and when a strong connection forms between them, Ladybug goes to Chat looking for answers, finding out more than she bargained for.

Sentiadrien enemies AU fic! He never wanted to fight against her, but Gabriel caught him before he could transform for the first time, and with his father using his Amoks against him, he had no choice. 

I like that there’s a solid explanation for why Fu let Adrien keep his Miraculous even though he’s been working against Ladybug, I don’t often see explanations for that that I’m satisfied with.

---

For the Sake of a Ring by @rosie-b

An akuma that transfers people's consciousnesses into other universes hits Ladybug, sending her into a world where everything is the same... but instead of earrings, she's wearing a ring on one hand! She's only just arrived in this universe, but already Plagg seems to have gone missing. It's up to Marinette to figure out what happened before she's sent back home!

This fic takes place in the future, after Season 5, but it does not contain any leaks or major spoilers. Please keep the comment section spoiler-free, too!

This is really cute, Marinette gets transported into a world where she’s married to Adrien and is really confused as to why and how they got married at sixteen. Adrien’s just an adorable puppy who thinks his wife is the most amazing person in the world! 

---

His Princess and Her Knight by @seas-of-silver

Adrien, Marinette, Nino and Alya have a group assignment about how the past has shaped them into the people they are today, but they’ll make a discovery that’ll send them searching for answers.

This fic is adorable, Adrien, Marinette, and Nino uncover that they all went to the same preschool together, with Adrien and Marinette immediately latching onto each other, Adrien being the knight to Marinette’s princess, and also making friends with Nino. Sadly he was pulled after two weeks, but it made quite an impression on him.

---

A Friendship Not Abandoned (Just Delayed) by @nomolosk

Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste first met as tiny little kids, but then Adrien had to move away. When they finally meet again, will they even remember each other, much less become friends again?

Poor Adrien keeps on saying or doing just the wrong thing to give Marinette the impression that he’s a bully like Chloe when he’s not, and he keeps desperately trying to fix it. So a bit of an enemies au in that way, since Marinette doesn’t like him much. He does gradually manage to convince her that he’s a good person though.

---

as luck would have it by @silver-hibiscus

It's Adrien's birthday, and there's an akuma attack. Luckily, Ladybug and Chat Noir are there to save the day! Even if they're not the heroes that we're familiar with...

Not so much a kwami swap as an another au entirely.

Same title as one of my own fics, funnily enough! Though entirely different premise. This is a Gabenath fic, with Gabriel as Chat Noir and Nathalie as Ladybug, complete with a lovesquare and some unspecified other person as Hawk Moth. In this version, Gabriel and Emilie had some terrible fights and were separated, with Gabriel realizing along the way that he’d been a distant father and working to rectify that, he’s a pretty decent person here. I could actually kind of see this being a feasible path Gabriel could have gone down, if he wasn’t so desperate to revive Emilie and hadn’t gone so far to try to distance himself from who he was and where he came from back before he met Emilie and started changing to fit in with the upper class.

---

The Price by @clawsoutspotsoff  

He clutched his chest, feeling his lungs burn  as his body started to give out beneath him. No. Not now. Not this time, when he was so close.

He wrenched his arm back, striking with the other as he called his sword to his hand, fire and lightning and ice tearing through his nerves as he did, but finally, finally, the resistance gave way and he stumbled backwards.

Without looking, he turned and ran, calling a portal to appear before him. He fell through it, landing on a cold, hard floor in utter darkness. He could still hear shouting over the rushing in his ears, every part of his body failing at once, and before he could be pursued, before he could collapse any further, he forced raspy words through his torn, aching throat.

"Plagg, Tikki, unify!"

The world went blessedly, eerily silent.

---

Written for MiraculousFanworks' fanfic wars 2022

Will that be cash, credit, or memories?

This was a great look at how the Wish could potentially happen, what the kwamis might do to help mitigate the worst aspects of it on the people they care about... and what the price would be for it.

---

Emotional Mountain Ranges by @liiinerle

After Zoé's attempted romantic confession to Marinette is interrupted by an incensed Chloé and Audrey Bourgeois, she's left distraught and adrift, a crying mess in an alleyway far from home. Ladybug saves her from the incoming akuma, and tries to help her back on her feet - and Zoé wonders what she could possibly have done to earn this much attention from a superhero...

Lovely Zoenette fic here! I especially like how Marinette talks to Zoe, reassures her that she’s good enough, that she (as Ladybug) isn’t as perfect and composed as she thinks, and just... tries to get Zoe to have more confidence in herself. It’s mostly from Zoe’s perspective too, which I like since there aren’t a lot of Zoe POV fics.

---

The Mer-Human Race by @rosie-b

Bringing her hand closer to his lips, Adrien tried to plant a kiss on it, but Marinette pulled away before his lips could touch her.

“Save it for your girlfriend,” she said teasingly. “Or do you still not have one yet?”

Adrien smirked and crossed his arms.

“It’s a girl,” he said. “And I know her in real life. That’s all you get. Now, let’s get back to planning, shall we? We have a mermaid to beat.”

Lovely world-building here! Merfolk and humans have had a treaty for a long time, so there’s a tradition where merfolk can challenge humans to a race, and whoever wins gets to ask for a reasonable sort of reward (in Marinette’s case, she wants to be allowed to captain a ship at a younger age than is usually allowed). Alya, Nino, and Adrien are naturally very encouraging towards Marinette, and luckily for her, a nice merman going by the name of Chat Noir shows up and challenges her to a race...

Yeah you can see where this is going XD. It’s fun, I thoroughly enjoyed it.

---

Late Bloomer by @generalluxun

On what might very well be the last night of her life, Sabrina Raincomprix pulls out a very special scrapbook, pressed between the pages is the past, the past she has never shared with anyone. She relives how she got to this moment one page at a time, preparing herself for the end. A phone call interrupts her self-imposed exile and brings news that could change her life forever.

Even if it does though the question looms... change it how?

Sabrina-centric Hanahaki AU here! I love how it goes into Sabrina’s relationship with Chloe over the years, the good and the bad - and even what happens post Revolution. 

I love the description of some of the plants involved, and what they mean, what they represent. If you want a fic that delves more in Sabrina’s character and her relationship with Chloe, this is a solid choice.

---

Slowly Fading (from my misery) by @wehadabondingmoment

“You’re looking awfully deep in thought today, minou.” Ladybug’s gloved hand stroked over his hair and Chat Noir closed his eyes with an unstable breath.

He got like this sometimes. Lately, it had been getting worse.

Or: Gabriel likes using the rings to order his son around. After a while, it starts having effects on Chat Noir as well. (The more often Gabriel commands Adrien to act a certain way, the more it gets ingrained in his mentality. He suffers because of it.)

This is a gorgeous fic. Adrien’s been puppeted around, forced to obey orders for reasons he doesn’t understand, for so long, so often that a lot of times his own body doesn’t even feel like his. A lot of residual orders keep on bubbling up and stopping him from doing what he wants to do, and he just... doesn’t understand why. Considering how Adrien looked in Pretension when Gabriel forced him to go to his room so he could talk to Marinette alone, and how desperately Adrien tried to head back there but couldn’t make himself open the door, how terrified and confused he’d seemed, I think his feelings here, his mindset, is pretty close to canon.

---

Spread Your Wings by @myladynoire

Set before the Finale. Félix uses his Kwagatama to summon his father's memory and has a talk with him.

I love Colt’s characterization here, how we see his mindset, his beliefs, and even what made him the way he is. We have a limited amount of knowledge about him in canon, only having the play Felix and Kagami put on to go off of, but myladynoire made good use of it! I’m glad Felix got some closure here as well.

---

Cheating Cat by @11jj11

When Emma and Isaac Dupain-Cheng realize that Adrien is Chat Noir, that can only mean one thing... that he's cheating on Marinette with Ladybug, and they're the only ones that know!

This is really cute, with Emma and Isaac being worried about Adrien supposedly cheating on Marinette and wanting to talk to Ladybug to stop her from dating Chat Noir. That’s not all that’s going on here, though - Isaac’s actually adopted, but he and Adrien are still related, which puts an interesting twist on the tale. There’s a reason he’s especially sympathetic to the fact that Adrien being Chat Noir means he would have had to fight his own father...

---

A Mousey guest by charliepoet13

Adrien Agreste has finally managed to break away from his father and make his way out into the world. One faithful night, after settling down in his new home, he spots a strange guest.

Adrien X Multimouse fic here! So this is inspired by the Borrowers, with little people the size of mice living amongst ordinary-sized humans, and Marinette got a little careless here XD. But soon finds that Adrien’s friendly and not a threat. It’s adorable and reminds me of the The Littles book series that I read when I was a kid!

---

Three Crazy Days by @lea-panthera

In which Marinette's mind is forced to stretch a mile.

So Bunnix drops off Marinette’s future daughter for her to take care of, who blabs that her grandfather is Hawk Moth, and then things quickly spin out of control XD.

---

all of your flaws and all of my flaws (are laid out one-by-one) by @coffeebanana

Ladybug and Marinette have both been acting strangely since Monarch's defeat, and Chat Noir would give anything to know why—to be able to help them. He just...didn't expect his answers to come when Ladybug drags him to his father's statue in the middle of the night along with a bag full of spray paint.

If you felt unsatisfied with Adrien being left in the dark about Monarch, with Ladybug lying about Gabriel being a hero, this is a great fic to read. Marinette’s breaking down keeping this secret, seeing people treat Gabriel as the hero she told people he was, until she finally snaps and has to do SOMETHING, has to tell SOMEONE the truth. 

Which Chat takes pretty well! He knows how persuasive his father could be, and he’s mostly just relieved at finally hearing someone say that Gabriel wasn’t a hero. It’s still a lot to cope with though.

---

@ ladybug by @hefoundme

Trending in Paris

1 · Trending #JusticeForPapillombre

2 · Technology · Trending Tsurugi Corp Trending with Tomoe Tsurugi

3 · Trending #LadynoirStrong

So this is a multimedia type fic showing various online conversations and things that would likely be going on in Miraculous Paris. It doesn’t really have a coherent narrative per se, and is more like a series of vignettes. It’s a lot of fun, like there’s a section going over Andre’s ice cream reviews, Alix talking with Max about how she’s worried about Alim falling down conspiracy rabbit holes, an image of the most popular google search terms for Adrien, all sorts of things! It must’ve taken a lot of work and I think it’s worth a look. 

---

Don’t be a Stranger by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

Chat Noir has been fighting Chrysalide alone for years when one day, Ladybug appears. She seems to already know him, and is a little too eager to be friends. But the more she pushes for her and Chat Noir to reveal their identities, the harder she is to trust.

Written for Ladynoir July Prompt 31 - “In Every Universe”

This is an intriguing story, with a somewhat open ending. I don’t want to spoil too much about it - the plot hook in the summary should already give you a pretty good idea of the premise. It is a little strange seeing LADYBUG pushing for an identity reveal and making jokes during akuma fights, but given what’s happened, I could see why she’d try to do things that made her think of Chat.

---

hands red series by katrinette

Summary for the first fic in the series, a serpent in these still waters:

Marinette's on her knees before her new king, preparing to swear the oath that binds her to serve him to the best of her ability.

To the man whose father had her parents killed.

Every word tastes like ash in her mouth.

Marinette’s plotting to overthrow the corrupt monarch, as the French tend to do. She doesn’t know King Adrien all that well, since he just ascended to the throne recently, but she’s certain that he’s just as bad as his father.

Of course, rebellion’s aren’t very effective without help, so after biting her tongue with the new king, she rants to her partner in crime, a man whose true name and face she does not know, but who she deeply trusts nonetheless: Chat Noir.

---

Falling (sick) with you by @chocoluckchipz

Nothing would be easier than taking a pair of earrings off an unconscious Ladybug. Doing so would bring his mother back and end their decade-long strife. He shouldn't be hesitating when a chance of a life time presented itself to him. He should not be looking for excuses and reasonings as to why spending another twenty or so years fighting this woman rather than pleasing his father and giving his mother another chance at life was not such a bad idea after all.

Ah, I love a good enemies au! Even when they’re enemies, Chat is unwilling to hurt Ladybug. Though honestly, he makes himself out to be more of a villain than he actually is, it’s pretty obvious to everyone that he’s not trying as hard as he could to get her earrings. There’s very good reason for that.

---

Lost Little Kitten by soliea0death

Monarch hasn't been seen for a while, but that doesn't mean that Ladybug and Chat Noir aren't still needed as the heroes of Paris. Also, the new holder of the rabbit miraculous may need some more practice when dealing with time travel. One-shot Ladynoir ;);)

This is adorable. Ladybug and Chat Noir find a toddler wandering around and try to find her parents, to no avail, so they decide to take care of her (well Ladybug said she was gonna leave her with Marinette, but you know what that really means). Of course Bunnix had to come to collect her since she was displaced from time, but neglected to say who her parents were...

Anyway this was adorable, and I loved the explanation for how, exactly, the little girl ended up in the wrong time period.

---

Eat, Pray, Duck by @trishacollins

Gabriel Agreste split his twin sons apart when his wife died, keeping one with him and sending one to London with his sister. Unfortunately, the Supreme was not willing to let this be.

He wanted a matched set.

Felix is a weapon, a servant of the Supreme. On a mission to retrieve the stolen Miraculous.

In a world that has outlawed kindness, sometimes the most dangerous person is the one who chooses it anyway.

I love this glimpse at what might have been going on with Felix back in Shadybug and Claw Noir’s world, I did wonder what might have been going on with him. Poor kid, he managed to have it even worse than he did in canon. I really loved seeing his interactions with Luka, the Couffaines rebel through kindness it seems!

---

Front Page News by @tiredfloridianbutverygay

Nadja couldn't sleep at night, not when there were still so many unanswered questions about the final battle. How did the Alliance rings seem to have the exact answer, to know exactly what to say?

Why did they turn everyone into a Miraculous-powered army? Why was Gabriel asking everyone to join with Monarch to help capture Ladybug and Cat Noir?

It was time to get to the bottom of this, and Paris' best investigative journalist was on the case! No stone would be left unturned and Paris would never be the same.

This one’s a pretty unique follow-up to the season 5 finale! I love Alya and Nadja investigating to try and figure out what happened with Monarch and exposing the truth, people deserve to know.

---

Friends who kiss by @kuromori4

It’s been about a week since Shadybug and Claw Noir’s goody-two shoes alternate universe counterparts convinced them to betray the Supreme and join the Resistance. And while they are determined to be better… It hasn’t been easy. While both Shadybug and Claw Noir have a lifetime of problems to untangle if they want to be good people, they realize a new look doesn’t magically make you a nice person. As if that weren’t hard enough to deal with, the two ex-Villains struggle with defining what their new relationship might be.

I love the two of them talking things out, and struggling. Shadybug in particular is still very prickly and prone to making snide comments about Adrien, even though she doesn’t really know him, and she still hasn’t totally come to terms with her own true feelings about Claw Noir. Though by the end they um. Figure that out, I guess you could say XD.

---

Dragon by @liiinerle

Tomoe keeps telling Kagami about the importance of her heritage, but refuses to tell her what that heritage is. When Kagami looks it up for herself, she finds a lot of interesting information, a lot of frustration, and a deep and burning question - which Tomoe refuses to help her answer.

This is a Kagami character study, with Kagami questioning her mother’s actions, but knowing that standing up to her is a no-win proposition. It doesn’t help that D’Argencourt’s mirroring some aspects of her mother’s behavior, with being upset if she doesn’t fight well, but also being upset if she beats him. There’s no right answer here, which leads her to take out her frustration on others. Luckily, Marinette’s there to calm her down, to talk things out with her.

---

adrien agreste and the consequences of tweets making fun of yourself by Anonymous

Well, Adrien thinks, what’s the worst that could come from a few poorly thought-out tweets lightly ribbing his own civilian identity?

I love the focus here on how people just assume what Adrien’s thinking and feeling and act on his behalf, without actually waiting to see what HE wants, and Adrien’s growing frustration. How they create a version of him in their heads, but don’t care to check with reality to see whether he actually wants their “defense”. 

---

Spin the Bottle by @kasienda

When the bottle cap comes to a stop dead center on Nino, Adrien’s both relieved and somehow more anxious.

His first kiss - not his actual first kiss, but still kinda his first kiss - the first kiss he will remember, will be with someone he deeply cares about.

But Adrien also cares what Nino thinks of him, so what if he’s a terrible kisser?

Nino offers him a reassuring smile, and he relaxes. Adrien glances at Alya for permission, and she just shoos him towards Nino.

Adrien turns to Nino, leaning closer. If his stomach had been squirming before, it now feels like a half dozen Kwamis have taken up residence in his gut. But Adrien doesn’t hesitate. He blocks out the presence of all of his friends watching, and instead focuses on Nino - like Nino is a stage partner in a photoshoot.

Except kissing Nino is nothing like a photoshoot.

...

Adrien kisses Nino in a game of Spin the Bottle, and then neither can stop thinking about it. Alya really likes how flustered her boyfriend is by all this. Marinette though, can't handle it and keeps running away.

This is a great Alya X Adrien X Nino X Marinette poly fic! I love them all talking out their feelings and realizing new things about themselves. Alya’s instrumental and bringing everyone together, though she, herself, is also nervous about confessing to her longstanding crush XD

---

a rose by any other name by @asukiess

Adrien's scared Loveybug only loves Catwalker.

Loveybug's scared Chat Noir only loves her, and not Ladybug.

How does the rest of the saying go again?

So obviously, this is part of the Loveybug AU, where Marinette gets stressed by her responsibilities as Ladybug and wanting to get away from that persona, and adopts a new persona as Loveybug, complete with a new transformation. This is a really good glimpse of this AU, I really love the Ladrien (Lovedrien?) especially, with her talking out her conundrum with Adrien.

---

The Two-Body Problem by @mixelation

Good news: they now knew how the akuma’s power worked, and the akuma had run off and given them time to regroup.

Bad news: the akuma’s power meant she was now in Chat Noir’s body, and Chat Noir was in her body. Her body, which was currently still Marinette.

Ah, I love a good body swap. This is set while Adrien and Marinette are dating, so he can’t help flirting with Marinette a little, even in these circumstances - which is a bit of a problem since Marinette doesn’t realize he’s her boyfriend. And also they’re in each other’s bodies, which makes it feel weird.

And then there’s the whole “someone is gonna need to use the Ladybug Miraculous” problem. It’s not as if Chat KNOWS that he currently has her Miraculous in his earlobes...

---

Windows 5 + 1 by @dadplagg-mamatikki

A bet between Kim and Alix trigger a chain reactions of events where Adrien jumps out of windows.

I love this. Adrien needs very little prompting to jump out of windows, heck he’ll do it with NO prompting, it’s hilarious XD. Heck he even asked whether Kim would prefer a normal jump or a theatrical one! It’s really not that surprising though, considering how we’ve seen Adrien dive from the top of his rock-climbing wall onto his couch.

---

I know there’s been pain this year (But it’s time to let it go) by @ninadove

“What? Nooo! Adrien doesn’t hate Christmas.”

“Are you absolutely certain? What was he like last year?”

“Well, he —”

Marinette furrowed her brow, scanning her own memories. Of course she was absolutely certain. At least, she thought she was.

Okay — she could not ignore that Adrien had run away from home that night, wandering the snow-covered streets to escape the freezing cold of his own home. Nor could she brush away the disintegrated Morris column, cataclysmed for the crime of bearing his own face.

Oh, and the shaky videos circulating on YouTube. That musical number was… Concerning, to say the least. Still, it was no smoking gun.

Right?

“Oh my god,” she squeaked, plopping down against the counter. “Adrien hates Christmas.”

I love Marinette and Felix doing their best to cheer Adrien up, it’s adorable. Especially Marinette’s attempt. It’s very Marinette, I laughed out loud XD. There’s a lot of senticousin bonding here, so if you like that, this is a good one to check out!

---

A Shadyverse Holiday by @lucid-ao3

The duo's curiosity grew after the encounter with their alternate selves from the Shadyverse. What was this other world like, and how were Shadybug and Claw Noir doing in the aftermath of their visit?

It's the polite thing to do, after all, for a superhero team to check in on their parallel universe counterparts and wish them happy holidays.

That is, if there's any happiness to find...

[In which Ladybug and Chat Noir take a holiday trip to the Shadyverse.]

I love this glimpse of the Reverse World, and how it makes Ladybug and Chat Noir question whether their own is really so different, if things could have turned out in their own world the way they did in the Reverse World - for better or worse.

---

what makes a human (am I?) by GraceM_TheStoriedLife

Adrien comes to Marinette's out of nowhere. Usually Chat is her rock. Tonight, it's her turn. (Or, in which Adrien discovers some secrets he's not prepared for and Marinette is as Marinette-y as always.

So Adrien discovers he’s a sentimonster and immediately runs to Marinette for support. It’s as cute and angsty as you’d expect. She is, of course, very supportive of him. Also some discussion of Gabriel being abusive, since both she and Nino had been trying to get Adrien to see that. Especially with how, exactly, Adrien found out he’s a sentimonster. He can relate a little better to Felix’s experiences now than is healthy, I’ll just say.

---

Caught In A Multimouse Trap by @a-flaming-idiot

Adrien was having a rather slow morning. That was until he discovered a tiny superhero trapped in his home and decides to be a bit of a hero even out of his suit.

This was adorable! Adrien does his best to care for the little miniature superhero caught in a mousetrap, bandaging her up as best as he can (thankfully only her tail got caught so it’s more of a phantom pain than an actual injury) and just... it’s really cute.

---

fine line by @bbutterflies

“Catwalker?” Loveybug asks.

“Hmm?”

“Do you remember… what happened before us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Before we were heroes. Was there someone else?”

Catwalker goes quiet for a moment. “I don’t know,” he finally says.

This is a surprisingly angsty take on the Loveybug AU. Here, since the Loveybug and Cat Walker transformations are so unnatural, they’re having negative side effects on Marinette and Adrien, causing them to be constantly exhausted and even to get amnesia the longer they continue using them.

---

You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess by @mexicancat-girl

With Team Miraculous now full-time holders, Ladybug has them patrolling in pairs like her and Chat Noir.

New partners Pigella and Purple Tigress get along phenomenally, their easy banter and similar wavelengths making working with each other a joy in and out of combat.

But sometimes Tigress is surprised just how close she is with her partner. Sometimes she tries not to feel too guilty thinking about it.

There’s some nice Julerose here! I love them kinda getting into a lovesquare with each other, though it’s not as much of a problem as it is in canon since it’s reciprocal in every relationship and they’re both down for a poly. It’s fun, and I love the “Luka attempting to woo some of his love interests” plot going on in the background XD.

---

Plans Aren’t Everything by BeeRye

Feeling a bit fed up with constantly having her dates with Marinette cut short, Kagami sets aside some time in order to plan the perfect outing for the two of them. Despite being the holder of the Miraculous of the Black Cat, she believes one day of romance isn't too much to ask for. As long as she treats it all like she does everything else in her life, the results she wants should come to pass.

She doesn't quite know what to do if that ends up not being the case.

This was adorable and captured Kagami’s mindset well, she decided, rather optimistically that she could just brute force the date into going well. Unfortunately, that’s not gonna stop Hawk Moth. Fortunately, Marinette has her own back-up plans...

[mypoisonedvine]

32:"I wish they could all know about us." 48:"there's no way that was just a one-night thing." 54:"just one more kiss?" With Thomas Shelby, Raymond Leon or Ernst Schmidt

-❄

oh my gosh I've been wanting an excuse to write for ernst for ages!

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), secret relationship, semi-public sex, a bit of marking kink?, cocky lil shit ernst with a fluffy side

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

You could feel his eyes on you as you worked-- it was distracting, even though you were pretending to ignore it, and you had to put all your energy into looking like you were actually being productive so he wouldn't interrupt you.

Which, a few minutes of silence later, he did anyways. "So, are we going to talk about it, or--?"

"No," you said firmly.

"O-okay," he agreed, looking back at his own work.

That silence only lasted for about ten seconds.

"I want to talk about it," he announced.

"I don't care," you frowned, turning to face him, "we said we wouldn't talk about it. There's nothing to talk about."

"Nothing?" he repeated with a scoff. "That's what it meant to you, nothing?!"

"No, I didn't say that, of course it meant something, I just--" you began, but stopped yourself when you realized what you were doing, and he smiled proudly.

"See? See what I did there? I made you talk about it," he explained smugly, "and now we're talking about it. Was that so hard?"

You wondered if he meant to say that-- to say exactly what he'd said to you two nights ago. Of course, he'd said it pretty differently then: he'd told you he was going to make you come a third time, and you swore up and down you couldn't do it again-- but then after a few minutes you were clawing helplessly at the sheets under you, sobbing his name, shaking all over. Was that so hard? he'd asked you, mocking how quickly you'd fallen apart for him.

So, yes, your heart sort of skipped a beat when he said that, and your thighs pressed against each other-- he noticed, clearly, since he glanced down at your legs and back up at you with a smile, but thankfully he didn't call you out.

"We can talk about it," you offered, making him perk up, "later."

He sighed again. "And how am I supposed to be productive when all I can think about is this conversation in the indefinite future?"

You rolled your eyes. "I don't know-- just figure it out, okay! We can't talk here, in case someone comes in..."

His eyebrow raised. "So that's what you're afraid of, then. Of anyone finding out."

"W-well, yeah, of course," you replied. "It would make everything so much more... complicated. And I'd never hear the end of it-- and think of how hard I work to be taken seriously around here. Can you imagine if some of those guys knew about it? They'd probably think I only became an engineer to sleep around-- or think they have a chance with me, too. I just can't handle that right now."

He nodded, stepping a bit closer to you. "You're right. I hate that you're right, but you're right."

"It's not that I'm... ashamed of it-- or of you," you offered, lowering your voice a bit. "You understand, right?"

He reached forward, a hand resting on your waist which made your heart skip again-- the way he'd held you that night, keeping you pressed up against him, touching you everywhere he could reach-- "Of course I understand," he said, breaking you out of the memory. "It's just a shame... I wish they could all know about us."

You looked up at him, smirking a bit. "Us?" you repeated. "Who said anything about us? We just hooked up one time, that's it."

His hand slid up from your waist to your back, pulling you into him. You knew you should push him away-- you had your hands on his chest, prepared to if you heard anyone coming by-- but you were too caught up in the warmth of him, the smell of his cologne, the way he was looking at you right then. "There's no way that was just a one-night thing," he said, almost a hint of anger in his voice-- of incredulousness, that you could even suggest that. "You were there, you know what it was like."

"What was it like?" you challenged.

"Perfect," he answered instantly, making your face heat up.

"Well, I don't know about that," you hummed, "there was that time where I accidentally kicked you. Or the part when you stopped for water and totally spilled it all over your bed."

"No, that was all perfect, too," he decided.

"You didn't mind sleeping on a wet patch?"

"Darling, you'd already made one."

You choked on your own throat, looking away to try to collect yourself. He smiled and used the opportunity to hook a finger into the neckline of your uniform, tugging it down a bit and humming proudly.

"My mark is still there," he noticed. "You're welcome, by the way-- for only leaving them where no one would see."

"No, there was one here," you corrected, placing your finger on a certain place on your neck, "I covered it with makeup."

"Oh! Impressive," he nodded, "I wouldn't have noticed-- right here, you said?"

His finger traced the place, and you nodded.

"Hmm, this spot right here?" he repeated, voice softer, moving closer.

Your eyes fell shut as he latched his lips onto it again, you mouth falling into a quiet sigh. "E-Ernst, I told you, we can't--"

You cut yourself off with a whine as he grabbed your hips, guiding you back to sit up on the console; your legs instinctively wrapped around him as his teeth grazed your pulse again, and he growled quietly.

"What if someone c-comes in, and sees us?" you panted, holding tight onto his shoulders.

"Let them," he purred. "They'd have to see it to believe it, anyways: how beautiful you look like this... how easily you give in to me..."

"Fuck," you whimpered, your back arching when his tongue traced a line up your neck.

"I still can't believe it," he continued, "everything you let me do to you, how perfect you feel inside. It's like you were made to take me."

"God damn it, Schmidt, don't talk like that," you hissed, using a commanding tone that he was much more familiar with from you.

"Are you getting bossy now?" he noticed with a grin, pulling back to look at your face. "I don't mind. You can tell me what to do."

Your heart pounded but your brain, finally, took control. "Fine, here's what you should do: stop. Before we do something really, really fucking stupid."

He smiled a bit, and nodded. "Okay-- you're right. We shouldn't."

You sighed with relief, and he pulled back slightly, though not enough to let you get off of the console.

"But before we stop, just one more kiss?" he pleaded, giving you those cute puppy eyes you couldn't resist.

"Sure," you agreed, smiling as he leaned in closer-- but he stopped, and his hands were suddenly opening your uniform's belt. "Wh-what are you--?"

"Sorry, darling," he winked, "but you didn't specify where to kiss you. So I chose myself."

Your head fell back with a sigh as he sunk to his knees in front of you. "F-fuck, Ernst, you can't be serious-- if someone saw us--"

"Don't worry," he purred as he started to tug your trousers down, "if this goes anything like last time, it shouldn't take me very long."

[mandos-mind-trick]

Inspiration

Summary: You're a famous romance novel author. Your boyfriend is more than willing to help you get over your writers block.

Pairing: Hunter x reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, established relationship, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, lots of teasing, hair pulling, romance novels.

A/N: You can blame thank @moonlightwarriorqueen for this one. Been thinking about it all day since that ask and I had to write it.

MASTERLIST

You let out a heavy sigh once more, rubbing your eyes. 

“Everything alright?” Hunter asks, stepping into your shared bedroom. 

You let out another sigh, before nodding. “Yeah. Just...can’t quite get this scene right.” 

He hums thoughtfully, crawling onto the end of the bed. “What’s happening in the scene?” 

“Well, the love interest currently has his hand up the protagonists’ skirt in the middle of the kitchen.” You turn to look at him as he stretches out on the bed next to you. “I just don’t know what direction to go from here.” 

“Well, I think they’d both like to cum.” He says, deadpan. 

You slap his chest playfully, rolling your eyes. “Well of course that’s the goal. It’s just how they’re going to reach that goal that I’m unsure about.”

You had been embarrassed at first, when he’d asked what you did for a living. 

You usually were when people asked, either lying or skirting around the truth. It wasn’t shame that brought these feelings forward when you were asked by any means. No, you love what you do. It was more...loathing for the inevitable awkward conversation that followed. 

You had been honest with Hunter, mostly because you knew just by looking at him he wasn’t really going to know what you were talking about. 

Hunter didn’t exactly strike you as being a romance novel reader. 

That’s what you do. You’re one of the galaxy’s most famous romance novel authors. You write under a penname, of course, so no one knows who you actually are. You rarely reveal who you are anyway, only to people you know very well. People you trust. 

You had been right in your assumption about Hunter. Even if he hadn’t spent his entire life training and fighting a war, you doubted he’d be spending his free time reading romance novels. 

You had never expected him to read one of them, after the two of you began seeing each other. 

You wanted to simultaneously melt into the floor and explode when you entered your living room to find him holding up a datapad with one of your most popular book covers on the screen. You’re sure your body temperature went up a few degrees as he’d simply sat there holding the datapad with a raised brow. 

“My Clone Lover?” He’d asked, giving you an exasperated look. 

“They were very popular during the war.” You’d shrugged, shuffling your feet bashfully. “There’s a whole series.” 

“A series?” He’d asked in disbelief. 

You didn’t expect him to have read it already. He’d mostly had critiques of smaller details like the GAR and clones' day to day lives and how much freedom they actually had. You of course being a civilian had little knowledge of the military and war and had only had a few resources to go off of. Though, most of your readers probably weren’t reading for military accuracy. 

He only brought up those parts of the stories after you began to get physical in your relationship. 

Hunter’s a good lover. Despite his inexperience at first, he’s attentive and a quick learner. He learns exactly where to touch, where to squeeze, what spots he can simply run his fingers over that leave you squirming.

It doesn’t take much to work him up, either. 

“I think I can help draw up some inspiration.” He says, his voice pitched low and gravely as he tugs the datapad from your hands. 

He hovers over you, letting the datapad drop to the floor with a gentle thud. He presses his lips to yours, his hand sliding down your side to grip your hip. You hum against his lips, wrapping one arm around his broad shoulders. He presses closer to you as his hand slides down your hip to your bare thigh, squeezing gently. 

“You’ve been getting into the candy stash again.” He murmurs against your lips. 

“It helps me focus.” You giggle. 

“Sure.” He laughs, dragging his hand up your thigh.

“I know you like it when I taste sweet.” You tease. 

He hums again, biting down on your lower lip gently. “I do love the way you taste.” 

His hand pushes your baggy shirt, one of his actually, up around your waist. His fingers are rough on your skin as he slips them under your panties, his middle finger dragging through your folds. 

“Already so wet for me.” He groans, gathering your juices on his finger. 

“Can’t help it.” You moan, gasping quietly as his finger drags over your clit. “You just have that effect on me.” 

“Me, or the thoughts in your head?” He asks, circling your clit slowly. 

“I think about you when I’m writing.” You gasp, fingers gripping his bicep. “That’s what makes it so realistic.” 

He pulls away from your lips, leaning his head on his hand as he stares down at you. His finger continues to circle your clit, slowly working you up. “You base your protagonists’ love interests after me?” 

“To an extent.” You say, fingers digging into his arms as your toes begin to curl with pleasure. “The human ones, at least.” You gasp, hips jerking as he adds just slightly more pressure. “Even some of the other species.” 

He pauses, looking down at you. “Even the Wookiee?” 

“I did say ‘some.’” You roll your eyes. “But I still mostly picture you. The way your hands feel on my body. The way you touch me. The way your cock feels inside me.” 

“You should dedicate your next book to me. ‘To my boyfriend and his magical cock. Thank you for the inspiration.’” He says. 

You slap his arm, letting out a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.” 

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss you again. “I’m joking.” He presses his finger into your pussy, making you gasp. “I’m more than happy to secretly offer inspiration for your characters.” 

“Good.” You gasp against his lips, his tongue tangling with yours. “Cause no book will ever compare to the real thing.” 

He groans against his lips as he eases a second finger into you, curling them upwards. You let out a strangled moan against his lips as he finds that spot inside you, your legs squeezing around his hand. 

He releases your lips to press his face into your neck. “The kids are gone for the night.” He says, lips brushing your skin. “Be as loud as you want.” 

Your head falls back as another moan is torn from your lips by his fingers pressing hard against that spot inside you. Your legs shake, walls squeezing around his fingers. “Kriff, Hunter!” You whine, your clit dragging against his hand as he fucks you with his fingers. 

“That’s it, baby.” He groans, licking at your neck as you writhe under him. “Cum for me.” 

You cum with a cry of his name, soaking his fingers. He continues to fuck you through your orgasm until you’re starting to shake from the overstimulation. He pulls his hand from your underwear, pushing himself up to sit as he takes them into his mouth, licking them clean. 

You breathe heavily as you watch him, the damp spot on your panties only getting bigger. He groans as he licks every last drop of your release from his fingers before he’s tugging his shirt over his head, revealing his tattooed chest. You bite your lip, lifting your hips so he can tug your panties off, slipping your own shirt over your head. He kicks his pants to the floor, revealing his hard cock. The tip is leaking already. As you said, he’s easy to work up. 

He moves between your legs, lifting one over his shoulder. You bite your lip as he stares down at you with dark, lust filled eyes. “You look so good under me.” He says, pressing a kiss to your knee. “Look even prettier once you’re fucked out.” 

“Kriff.” You groan as he slips his cock into you. 

He presses all the way into you, folding your body as far as it can. You reach up and tug his bandana off, carding your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch, and you drag your nails along his scalp. He lets out a groan, a shiver wracking his body. You smirk, tugging lightly on the strands. He lets out a louder groan, his hips jerking, causing his cock to move inside you. 

“Fuck me, Hunter.” You groan, wrapping your other leg around his waist. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He groans, pulling his hips back just slightly before thrusting back into you. 

Your body moves with his thrusts as he sets a steady pace, the headboard knocking against the wall. Neither of you care to be quiet, not with the house to yourselves. You moan loudly as he shifts his hips inside you, back arching off the bed. 

“Just like that!” You gasp as his hips snap into yours. “Don’t stop!” 

You move your hips with his, your hands pressing against the headboard for leverage as you push yourself back against his thrusts. Your eyes roll back as he continues to hit that spot inside you, unintelligible sounds coming from your lips. 

“Feel so good.” He groans, hands gripping your hips almost tight enough to bruise. “Squeezing me so tight. Kriff, gonna make me cum!” 

You drop one hand to your clit, circling it desperately. You squeeze tight around him, one hard thrust from him sending you over the edge. You scream his name, writhing under him as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

“So beautiful. So kriffing beautiful cumming like that on my cock!” He moans, his hips stuttering before he’s cumming inside you with a deep groan. 

“Kriff,” You breathe, shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

Hunter groans, letting your legs fall around him as he drops on top of you, just managing to catch himself before he squishes you. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your hands against his back. He always gets sensitive and overwhelmed thanks to his senses, but you’ve figured out ways to help him ground himself. 

You work on steadying your breathing as he buries his face in your neck, pressing gentle kisses to the sweat-soaked skin. You keep yourself wrapped around him, ignoring the feeling of his seed slipping out of your pussy. 

“Feeling inspired?” He murmurs against your neck, rolling you both onto your sides. 

“Hmm,” You hum, carding your fingers through his hair. “I’m not sure. We might need to try a couple more angles.” 

He smirks against your skin, his cock getting hard against your thigh once more. “I think we can manage that.” He nips playfully at your throat. “Always happy to help you with your inspiration.” 

Ye ole Ragu list:

@rosechi @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @wolffegirlsunite @jedi-hawkins @sinfulsalutations @freesia-writes @littlemissmanga @clio3kantarella @eris-k @thorsterstrudle @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @sleepingsun501 @dystopicjumpsuit @wings-and-beskar @blueink-bluesoul @starrylothcat @523rdrebel @thrawnspetgoose @originalcollectionartistry @gwalchmai2970 @maddiedrmr @sunshinesdaydream @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @lickylickylicky @sweetheartsnips @mssbridgerton @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mooncommlink @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @hellhound5925 @commanderblood @crosshairlovebot

[wooahaes]

right in front of you

pairing: non-idol!jihoon [trsr] x gn!reader

genre: fluff. office worker au.

word count: ~1.0k

warnings: oblivious reader.

daisy's notes: the way id get fired for getting distracted too easily w jihoon around tbh

Jihoon was… Well… Jihoon. The two of you happened to be the youngest of your coworkers, and something about that had turned Park Jihoon from Jihoon, the cute guy at work to Jihoon, partner in crime and lifeline. 

It wasn’t that everyone was rude. You respected your seniors as much as anyone else would, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that some of them were on a power trip at times. Not all of them, thankfully: just one or two members of the staff that liked reminding you that they were in charge, all while treating you like you were some kid they’d found off the street and graciously given this job to (even though you aced the interview with your own skills and your actual manager had never acted this way toward you). Jihoon would text his remarks to you, forcing you to hide smiles whenever you glanced at your phone, or he’d whisper them to you on the elevator ride out of the building, or on those coffee outings that he took you out on when he wasn’t buying you dinner. At some point along the way, your crush on Jihoon went from a surface level thing to something deeper. 

Of course, it probably wasn’t going anywhere. Jihoon was cute and sometimes he flirted with you, but he casually flirted with plenty of people from what you could tell. At least… That’s what it felt like as you stood across the room from him, watching as he charmed a few of your coworkers. He let out a warm laugh, lighting up the room more than the Christmas tree you’d watched Hyunsuk decorate with a few interns. 

“You’re admiring again.”

And of course he had to come up to you, a cup in hand half-filled with fruit punch. Hyunsuk leaned against you, watching as Jihoon dazzled the room. 

“Am not.”

“You’ve been standing here the entire time,” he said. “There’s no shame in it. You should go ahead and ask him out.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you stepped away from him, throwing away your empty paper cup. “Whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m going out to get some air.”

Hyunsuk whined at you playfully, but let you go. You escaped out of the office, pressing the button for the elevator as you collected yourself. Maybe you should ask Jihoon out sometime, but… not tonight. Tonight felt far too soon to make your move. Besides.. Did Jihoon even like you like that? He didn’t seem interested in anyone at work…

The elevator doors slid open, and you stepped in. Seconds after you pressed the button for the ground floor, someone rushed onto the elevator, turning around once he was safely inside. The doors slid shut, and you were met with the reflections of yourself and Jihoon in the clean doors.

“I made it,” he said aloud after a moment, teaching up to loosen his tie slightly. He looked at you after a moment, a confident smile on his face. “I thought I’d miss you.”

You blinked at him, brows drawing together. “Huh?”

“I saw you leave,” he said. “I got caught up talking to the interns, but I had hoped the elevator was slow.”

Something about the way he was looking at you with a sense of tenderness in his eyes was enough to make your heart skip a beat. Now you felt silly: Jihoon didn’t look at other people like this. You looked forward again, not hiding your smile as you stepped a little closer to him. 

“Then I guess it’s good that it was.” 

Jihoon’s hand brushed against your own, and you took initiative to take it. “Are you heading home for the holidays?”

“I don’t think so. Are you?”

He nodded. “I’m heading back to Busan,” he said. “My family wanted to see me, and since we have the time off…”

The elevator slowed to a stop, and the doors slid open. The two of you stepped off together, Jihoon’s hand warm in your own. You ran your thumb across the back of his hand, “That sounds fun.”

“You could come with me, you know.” 

“Oh, really?”

He chuckled. “Really. If you don’t want to be alone… Then you can come with me.” He swung your arms a little, smiling. “My family won’t mind.”

As your friend or as your partner? One of those felt a little soon. Then again, you’d already met his family before. His parents came into the city a few weeks ago, and you happened to run into them as he was parting ways with them after a lunch out with them. Jihoon had waved you over and introduced you as a close friend then with this cute smile on his face that honestly reminded you of the one he’s had since the moment he ran onto the elevator and—

Oh my god. Jihoon wasn’t even hiding it. You stopped dead in your tracks, and Jihoon turned to look at you.

“Is something wrong?”

“I’m an idiot.”

Jihoon could only stare at you at first, clearly confused by your confession. “No, you aren’t—”

“No,” you squeezed his hand. “I like you, too.” 

Jihoon relaxed, chuckling to himself. “I know.”

“You knew?!”

“Why do you think I kept asking you out?” 

Holy fuck. How were you so oblivious? Maybe it was because you were too caught up in thinking about your own feelings that you never stopped to consider his. “Jihoon…”

He stepped closer to you, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “There’s a cafe with hot chocolate not far from here,” he said. “I’ll buy you a cup. It’s better than the cheap stuff that Hyunsuk bought.”

You smiled to yourself, averting your gaze. “Okay,” you said softly. “But I’m buying next time.”

Jihoon guided you toward the front doors of the building, his hand securely holding yours. “I’ll hold you to it.”

taglist: @twancingyunhao

[whataperfectwasteoftime]

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight - A Songfic

Pairing: None 

Rating: General, although my blog is, as always, 18+ only 

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, breakups, mentions of Teresa x Patrick Jane

Summary: I am a visitor here. I am not permanent. 

A/N: @whatsnewalycat said that The District Sleeps Alone Tonight by the Postal Service was a Marcus Pike song and then I listened to it during a thunderstorm and imagined a whole scene based on it. I’m not sure whether or not to call this a songfic, but there are several direct quotations from the lyrics and the “plot” of this follows the song pretty closely.  For best results, listen to this song while you read. The lyrics are posted at the end of the fic <3

Masterlist

A lone figure cuts through the wet fog, his collar turned up and shoulders hunched forward in a futile attempt to ward off the elements. The faded leather jacket may have been sufficient enough for even the coldest winter days in Austin, but against the drizzle and wind in this new climate, it only succeeds at keeping him dry. Mostly. The notion that he may not be as well-prepared as he had originally thought himself to be grates on him, shame niggling at the back of his spine at the realization that he doesn’t even know where to go to purchase a winter coat.

A gust of wind sends thousands of miniscule, stinging droplets of water into his face, making him grimace, and Marcus wonders to himself how it could possibly still be raining with temperatures so close to freezing.

It seems as though he’s stopped at every street crossing, because of course he is, and he squints against the endless line of headlights and brake lights extending in either direction, blurring and distorting in the soggy weather, as he waits for the traffic lights to turn.

It gets dark so early here.

His phone buzzes against fingers shoved in his pockets, and he fishes it out to read the text message that flashes on the screen.

Sorry, I think you might still have my spare key? If so can you mail it back? Thx.

The cavity of his chest feels empty and raw as his vision seems to darken around the words, twisting and warping them much like the rain and the headlights. Marcus pockets the phone again without responding and stares blankly at the ground. He thinks about the endless, pitch-black tunnels stretching out in every direction beneath him, wondering how many feet of asphalt and concrete there are between the bottoms of his feet and the top of the cavernous expanse of the DC underground. He imagines the sidewalk crumbling, sending him down into the unknown depths.

In reality, he takes the escalator across the street.

The station is buzzing with life–as it always seems to be, no matter the hour–and Marcus watches vibrant humanity swirl around him. Two teenagers sharing the same pair of headphones. A tired-looking mother with two young children. A woman in a business suit, eyes glued to her phone. A disheveled old man, smelling of booze, that everyone subconsciously steps around without even a look in his direction. 

Marcus fishes in his pocket for his metro card, his fingers bumping against the badge he had immediately unclipped from his lapel upon leaving work–the one that spells out a single word with big block letters, just another indignity upon all of the other indignities he’s suffered this week.

When he had asked why his regular badge–the one he’s clipped on his lapel every morning for over a decade–wasn’t sufficient, the bored door attendant tried to explain about building access being tied to his network credentials, which were tied to something called “Active Directory,” and it couldn’t be done right now because they were experiencing downtime after a backup server failed, and Marcus didn’t really understand what any of this meant or why this hadn’t all been set up beforehand, but there was hardly a point in trying to get answers to his questions because none of it would speed up the activation of his new credentials, nor the delivery of his new laptop, which wasn’t arriving until Monday.

None of this was done with malicious intent, of course; nor is he the only new employee affected, going by the line of badged Agents standing in line every morning this week to get the day’s temporary access, but Marcus still feels like a marked man. Separate. Apart. Singled-out. 

I am a visitor here. I am not permanent. 

It only compounds upon that same feeling inside of him: that feeling that he’s on some sort of strange vacation, and that soon he’ll be able to return home. Home. To his little duplex in Austin, where he shared one wall with Mrs. Ruth Galloway, the eighty-five year-old widow he had a cup of tea with every Sunday at two pm. To the city he knows, the field office where he’d spent most of his career, with familiar rooms and familiar faces… where she walks through the familiar halls. With him. 

Marcus swallows thickly, shoving the painful lump down into his stomach. 

No, he can’t go home.

The spacious condo certainly doesn’t feel like home when he opens the door to find the large living room dark and cold and foreboding, although that’s probably mostly his fault–the walls are still lined with moving boxes, most of them still half-full with his belongings, messy and unkempt after rummaging through them to find the essentials and leaving the rest.

When he had toured the building, two weeks before the move, the large residence felt full of dreams, of possibilities, rather than empty and sterile. Marcus remembers going from room to room, his head filled with images of an idealistic future: a king-sized bed, his and hers towels in the pristine bathroom, a bookshelf large enough to fit all of their books in the first spare room, and, in the second spare room… a crib. 

Now, they’re just two empty rooms. 

The fridge is empty too, Marcus suddenly remembers, having not had a chance to find a grocery store yet. He’s been living out of takeaway containers, not even bothering to open the box of dishes and silverware. He takes out two styrofoam boxes–one half-filled with leftover Pad Thai, the other with chicken Tikka Masala, and dumps them side-by-side into the same container with a half-grimace.

Beats going back out into the weather.

There are two beers left in a six-pack bought three days ago, so he opens one and takes a long sip while the microwave heats his food. He thumbs through the mail he left on the kitchen counter absentmindedly, finding mostly junk advertisements and coupons, but a takeout menu for a Sushi restaurant catches his eye. As he sets it on top of several other menus he’d accumulated over the last couple of days, the microwave beeps, alerting him to the fact that his dinner is ready. 

Marcus sits at the kitchen table and flicks on the TV in the living room, setting the channel to some random rerun of a syndicated sitcom that he doesn’t recognize, mostly for background noise. He pulls a somewhat-soggy copy of the Washington Post he snagged from the breakroom from his messenger bag and flips through the pages without really reading any of the headlines until he finds the crossword. He halfheartedly fills out the clues as he eats, the canned laugh track from the show filtering in and out of his awareness. The clue ‘strips in geography class (6 letters)’ finally causes him to rub at his temples, setting down the pen as he rises to his feet to toss the empty container and bottle in the trash. 

The other beer is popped open, and Marcus settles down on the couch, flipping through channels. He pauses briefly on a black and white film–Roman Holiday, he recognizes after a minute or two of watching–but when Ann and Joe kiss on the riverbank, he quickly switches to a basketball game instead. Keeping the volume low, he lets his mind wander as he blankly watches the teams run back and forth on the court, not all that interested in the score. 

He needs to buy food. He needs to find somewhere he can get a winter coat. He needs to find a post office, he suddenly remembers, thinking of the text message from earlier. He checks the time–late, probably too late. Wait, no–it’s two hours earlier in Austin. Two beers is hardly enough to even feel the alcohol, but apparently it’s enough to dull his sense of judgment, because he finds himself pulling out his phone. The call goes straight to voicemail, and he tries not to think about the possibility that she’s screening her calls because of him.

“Hi, uh… Hi. I’m sure you’re busy, but I got your message earlier about the key, and… I think I do have one, yeah, but I’m not sure… where, exactly. I’m still in the process of unpacking, got a couple more boxes to go through,” Marcus says, looking at the large pile of boxes in front of him and knowing he’s got many more throughout the house. “I’ll make it a priority to find it and send it off this weekend.

“It’s really nice here,” he continues, seemingly not able to stop the flow of words once they’ve started. “There’s a Thai place down the street that you’d like, but the spring rolls are so-so. Not like that one place we found in Ridgetop, remember that one?” Marcus chuckles softly to himself, hardly recognizing the sound of his own laughter, and it sends a pang down into his chest. “I–” he stutters, blinking rapidly. “I know things weren’t perfect between us. The–the timing wasn’t right, and there were a lot of… of uh, obstacles in our way, but I’ve been doing–” he huffs humorlessly, “–a lot of thinking over the past couple of days, and I think I understand now. I saw a life that I wanted, and… I pushed for it. I pushed too hard, without–without thinking about how you felt about it, about whether you were ready, whether you even wanted a life with me. You were… you were trying to tell me, that whole time… and I didn’t listen. But I… I think I finally see it–why I was the one worth leaving. It was never going to be me, it couldn’t have been. I ignored all the signs that I was pushing too hard, not listening, pressuring you…” He takes a shaky breath, and lets it out slowly. “I’m sorry. You were right to leave. I–I wish you the best, Teresa.”

*

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

The Postal Service

Smeared black ink

Your palms are sweaty

And I'm barely listening

To last demands

I'm staring at the asphalt wondering

What's buried underneath

I'll wear my badge

A vinyl sticker with big block letters

Adhering to my chest

That tells your new friends

I am a visitor here, I am not permanent

And the only thing

Keeping me dry is

You seem so out of context

In this gaudy apartment complex

(Where I am) A stranger with your door key

Explaining that I'm just visiting

(Where I am) And I am finally seeing

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

D.C. sleeps alone tonight

You seem so out of context

In this gaudy apartment complex

(Where I am) A stranger with your door key

Explaining that I'm just visiting

(Where I am) And I am finally seeing

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

The district sleeps alone tonight

After the bars turn out their lights

(Where I am) And send the autos swerving

Into the loneliest evening

(Where I am) And I am finally seeing

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

Why I was the one worth leaving

[siriussimon]

tumblr is stupid and deleted my anon’s request :c

they asked for, something of ghost where he’s too busy and stressed with work so he wouldn’t be the type of guy to have hook ups. this is where fem reader comes along to power sub ghost until he’s so pussy drunk he’s goes feral!!! ^.^

this idea had me drooling when i read it, thank you anon! hope you like <3

warnings: nsfw. fem reader x inexperienced?ghost. spitting. profanity. wrap it before you tap it!

inexperienced!ghost who hasn’t gotten laid since who the fuck knows when. poor thing is so busy with the task force, his needs are an after thought but that all changes when he meets his little rookie.

inexperienced!ghost who’s been dating you for awhile but the two of you haven’t even had sex yet. what a shame :( of course you respect his boundaries and his time at work since he’s your lieutenant but why can’t someone take care of him for a change?

inexperienced!ghost who sat in his office chair, working hard as usual, you thought enough is enough. walking into his office, with purpose, you went around his desk. this got his attention.

“baby, i know you like to go to bed together but i have a lot to do toni—“ his words were cut short as you stepped into the space between his legs. you placed your hands a top his shoulders, massaging the tense flesh, you hummed in response to the deep groan that left his lips.

“sh, just let me take care of you, yeah?” you said so sickly sweet. your hands traveling down his large arms, straight to his big belt buckle. his chest began to rise and fall more deeply. his hands went to grab your hips but you swatted them away.

“hands to yourself, big boy.” you giggled as you freed his large cock from his jeans. the sight alone made your thighs clench. this was the first time you saw him like this. he was huge. you weren’t sure if he was gonna fit but you’d make it fit just for him.

“lovie—“ he groaned, as you spat in your hand, then rubbing it up and down his length, spreading his pre along his tip. the sight of his head thrown back in bliss, made you slick between your thighs.

“feel good, baby? you look so good.” you said so sweet to him, as you began to straddle one of his thighs. you continued to play with his cock, slow strokes and then fast, making his hips thrust into your small hands.

“hmf…baby, please.” he all but whimpered. the way you had this giant man coming undone by just your hand made you burn into flames. you began to stroke his cock faster, the song of your spit and his precum making the lewdest of sounds. you couldn’t help but rock yourself against his thigh, needing some type of friction. one of his hands snaked around your waist and down your back, gripping the fat of your ass.

“ ‘m so close, fuck, baby— ‘m gonna, gonna..” he couldn’t even talk and all you were doing was jerking the poor thing off? you didn’t want to let him off easy though. :( he had been depriving you. you released his cock, making him groan from the denial of his orgasm.

“you fuckin’ brat—“ he moaned out almost pathetically. you moved off his thigh, sliding off your night shorts and panties before gripping his jaw tightly into your hand.

“so mean.” you pouted sarcastically, as you let yourself sink down on his cock. the stretch burned so deliciously, you whimpered as he bottomed out inside of you. his hands went straight to your hips, there would definitely be bruises there tomorrow.

“fuuucckkk..” he moaned, his head lolling forward, kissing your collarbone that was exposed from your sleep tank.

“you feel so good, si. hm, so good.” you whimpered as you began to bounce up and down on his cock. he felt so overstimulated, your pussy was clenching down on him like a vice. his head was filled with nothing but you and your pussy.

you slowed your movements once more, grinding into him in circular motions. your hands grasped the sides of his neck, you don’t know how he was breathing with his mask still on, your fingers gently moving it up to the bridge of his nose. his lips looked so red and puffy. so pretty just for you. you smashed your lips into his, all teeth and tongue, swallowing each others moans.

then something clicked in simons head.

he wrapped his arms around your waist, standing up, he pulled out from your warmth as he swiftly twisted you around. a gasp fell from your lips, hands flying to brace yourself on the desk. his hands gripped your hips and slamming his cock hard into you. your mouth opened into a silent scream, hands clenching into fists as he finally took you.

now you were the whimpering mess underneath him.

“such a slutty girl i have, hm? couldn’t wait till i..fuck, till i was done with my work? just had to have my cock so fucking deep inside you.” his voice was so hoarse and mean. you were in heaven.

“si! please, just needed you so bad.” you whimpered as he abused your cunt. his hips slapping into you ass, and the sound of your wetness could be heard in the room. his hand went to your neck, pulling you back against him as he thrusted harder. he was so fucking close. his hips began to thrust into you fast, his breathing became harder, groaning in your ear in bliss.

“fuck, pet. taking care of me good aren’t you? so fucking good, my love. fuck, im gonna—“ he moaned once more, before giving you two more hard thrusts before emptying out inside you.

you whimpered in bliss, pressing back into him for more, his hand still wrapped around your throat, his other across your tummy holding you still for him. he hummed, pressing a sweet kiss against your neck making you giggle.

“you little minx.” he grunted, as he pulled out from you, the sight of his cum dripping down your thighs was a pretty sight.

gonns kms now cause i cant take the stress away from our ghost :((

[romanxeisdeadbutimnot]

Zosan nsfw drabble// cw: noncon, forced noncon? If that makes sense, violence (this is dead dove so be warned) wip

There wasn’t much that could detain Sanji and Zoro, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. Rogue Marines were more powerful than they originally thought - could they even still be considered Marines?

The grogginess that came with waking up from the clinking of keys was nothing compared to the absolute shame and patheticness Sanji felt at being chained to the wall. His arms were stretched above him, his shoulders aching for release. His ankles were bound more securely to the ground, his body in an awkward slumping position.

Sanji couldn’t look around to see where Zoro was - he knew he was there from his breathing, but it sounded muffled, like something was in his mouth.

Spending the last few nights trying to scheme and get out of there (and no response from the brute), Sanji had to put his trust in either a rare opportunity or his captain that was searching for him. He had no doubt that Luffy would get them out of here, and then maybe Sanji could cook for all of them.

A low grumble from his stomach made him want to double over in pain, but Sanji couldn’t. His eyes were still closed, and he wished very much that he was back on their ship with the others.

“Wake up, you sack of shit.”

Sanji could barely hold his head up, and his eyes struggled to stay open. In front of him were a handful of colorful characters. That familiar branding on their clothing that could suggest they were officials burned into Sanji’s memory.

“Come back to kick the shit out of me more?” His voice was gritty and strained, exhausted from the beatings. Sanji didn’t know their motives, but he could take a wild guess that it had to do with his crew’s bounties.

“Don’t flatter yourself. You aren’t who we’re looking for.”

Sanji’s head felt limp as he let it hang, no longer looking at the group. His body was slowly getting weaker, and yet he still had the nerve to retort so freely.

“Hey, look at me!”

A rough hand grabbed Sanji’s face and jerked it forward, the force making his shoulders stretch painfully. His breathing quickened, the pain searing through his body. Sanji swore he was going to lose his arms soon.

The fury that enveloped Sanji was evident on his face, the urge to spit on his captors overwhelming.

“I won’t tell you shit!” Sanji hissed, his words coming out slurred because of his squished face.

“You can’t beat it out of me!”

An outrageous laughter from not one, but all of the men. It sent chills down Sanji’s spine, his body tingling from the pain, hunger and fury.

“Oh, we have something new in store today!” Sanji’s face was let go, and he could still feel the warm indent of those rough fingers.

What sick new game could these people be playing? Sanji could think of a few things, but he’s already lived through them. His loyalty knew no bounds, handing anything these monsters could throw at him.

It came as a shock when one of the men stepped closer, unlocking one of the ankle chains. As he did so, he was rough, but Sanji felt relief as the metal clasp came undone.

The same was done with his other ankle, and Sanji tried to flex his legs to get some semblance of control. Of course, this didn’t work. The Marine that had held him gestured to some of the men, and two came forward to pick up Sanji and stand him up.

Despite his power in his legs, this position he was in for the last several days had made him a bit weak and unsteady. Sanji’s legs shook, and the two men held him roughly as he saw the men at face level.

“What, are you going for punches now? Finally ready to get your hands dirty?” Sanji let out the most pathetic sounding attempt of a laugh, despite how grim his situation was.

It was just as he said - the main Marine took a huge swing to Sanji’s gut, making him grunt out in pain. Bile rose in his throat, but he managed to swallow it back down. He felt sick, almost thankful for the men holding him up so he didn’t collapse back into that dreadful position.

“You really don’t know when to keep your little jokes to yourself, you stupid pirate!”

The main Marine stepped forward until he was almost face to face with Sanji. His breath smelled of rot, booze and the thick stench of old tobacco. It nearly made Sanji puke.

“You know who we’re looking for - and I suggest you tell us, before we make sure you won’t be able to walk again.”

A whiny laugh, one that could grate the nerves of anyone around him. Sanji looked at the main Marine, his eyes making contact with theirs.

“I would rather die than tell you anything, you deplorable, rotten sack.”

A punch to the face, and Sanji saw stars. He could taste blood in his mouth, and his head felt as if it were going to break in two. He didn’t even make a noise in response, and instead collapsed back on the ground.

Sanji’s shoulders burned as he collapsed, the sudden yank of the chains on his arms made his eyes water. There was no way he was going to get out of this in one piece, and the sudden onslaught of potential failure made Sanji nearly tear up.

He could hardly make out what the Marines were saying, his head still spinning from the punch. The pressure in his head was so intense, he almost couldn’t see anything.

But he could feel - oh god, he could feel.

Tbc

[brittscafe]

Hiii can you do headcanons for Mayuri falling in love with a childhood friend

ahhh yesss! I think Mayuri is such a complex and interesting character which is why I love writing about him :)

You both were friends at a young age as you lived outside the walls of soul society.

Once Mayuri and you became very close, he disappeared one day leaving you.

It comes to Mayuri as a shock when you come into the soul society as one of Ichigo's friends trying to rescue Rukia from her execution decades later.

Of course, he's got a watchful eye on you as you run throughout the maze of the soul society.

He sits in his lab and watches you day by day.

Unknown to you, he's been coming to your aide as you go through obstacles and unfriendly soul reapers.

You end up in the 12th division barracks and you're surrounded by the members of the Research and Development Institute.

Mayuri easily senses your presence and rushes his way to the front.

Once Mayuri steps inside the room and you lock eyes, your heart drops.

You instantly recognize the boy behind all the face paint and makeup caked onto his face.

The members of the 12th squad seem to disappear as they realize that you're not a threat.

Mayuri and you stand perfectly still, hearts ramming as you gaze into each other's eyes.

"I like the new look. Mad scientist?" you speak up, gulping and swallowing your anxiety.

"Yeah. That's what I was going for," Mayuri replies shyly.

"I remember. That's what you wanted to be...a scientist. I guess you got your dream, huh?" you comment, stepping forward.

Although, you were curious. What happened to him? What happened to the electric blue hair and golden hues of his eyes?

What happened to the innocent little boy you used to know?

You immediately throw your arms around him and squeeze him tightly.

"W-what are you doing?" Mayuri stutters out, unsure what to do with his hands.

His emotions come flooding in, emotions that he hasn't felt since he last saw you.

"I never thought I would see you again," you comment, a smile tugging on your face.

Mayuri's mouth gapes open and he nods his head.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles out, lowering his head with shame.

You furrow your eyebrows as you're confused with his words until he reaches out.

You gasp loudly as his fingernail strikes you in the chest and your body rattles.

You glance down at the long fingernail extending into your chest and your eyelids start to become heavy.

Mayuri didn't know what to do, but he knew that you couldn't be here.

Once you wake up, you find yourself in a jail cell with Mayuri standing outside and watching you.

This time, he looks like himself. No makeup or face paint on him.

He spends hour apologizing to you about how much he's changed as a person and you couldn't even recognize him anymore.

Tears are gleaming in your eyes and you shake your head.

"I still recognize the same boy I knew all those years ago," you speak softly and his eyes widen.

Mayuri goes against his morals and decides to let you out and even helps you save Rukia.

After Aizen betrays the soul society, Yamamoto decides to let you stay and help the soul reapers.

As you and Mayuri grow closer and closer as you work together in his lab, you consume Mayuri's days.

Soft touches are shared and laughter lingers in the air.

It becomes very obvious to everyone in the soul society that Mayuri is head over heels in love with you.

Mayuri isn't very good at expressing his feelings so he decides to use his actions.

You're both working a late night in the lab and Mayuri pulls your chair over to his, pressing his lips against yours.

A soft 'I love you' was said between you two as you pull way from the kiss.