#rain's fanfics

[huneyrain]

' ' let's keep dancing (to a place beyond our dreams) ' '

.・。.・゜✭・❤・✫・゜・。.

also on ao3 // word count: 6,195 // bachisagi 1/1 fluff fic

TL;DR :: Isagi is a competitive ballroom dancer, stuck to following the rules and denying his true instincts. One competitive night, and a certain monstrous boy, tears it all down to rebuild anew.

.・。.・゜✭・❤・✫・゜・。.

Footsteps clashed against the waxed wooden floors, the music overpowering the creaks of an ancient building as fingers interlaced. Rhythmic movements followed each beat, the song’s slow melody lulling the dancers into security as they spun around each other, bright lights beating down from above. They shone like stars above the Earth, but rather, in front of the crowd, the stage their personal galaxy as they attempted with all their capabilities to dazzle the planets watching. 

Onlookers sat still, nestled in cushioned theater seats as the dancers glided across the stage, black strands of hair blowing across one’s face while they focused on their assigned partner. 

Any viewer would expect a climactic moment— the song’s tune peaking just as the performers pulled off a magnificent stunt, dazzling the audience with an unforgettable show. A couple to step out of the status quo; a couple to give in to their ego. 

The song tapered off, with both performers panting, blue eyes shining beneath dark bangs as they bowed.

This show was not that show. 

“Isagi Yoichi,” they called out, a booming voice overflowing from speakers across the auditorium. “7.9 out of 10. Please bring out the next contestants.”

That was that. Follow your routine, Isagi.

Contained egoism had left him mediocre among the sea of creativity.

════════════════

Isagi fell defeatedly onto his bed, still dressed in black-tie attire from his underwhelming competition. Ankles and feet ached, legs helplessly sore, although he was too exhausted to lift them up entirely onto the bed— rather, he threw a pillow over his face, hair frazzled from the static and sweat clinging to the strands. 

“I can’t believe I lost,” he groaned, the cushiony pillow muffling his words into incoherent nonsense. “We had choreographed it so perfectly.” 

Mundanely, his mind mocked him, nestling himself further into his soft, welcoming grave, his pure intentions to do nothing more than rot for the night in his disappointingly-wasted outfit; at least, he saw it as wasted, without a win. 

He couldn’t avoid the fact, his heart aching, held back in chains as he tended to do. 

“Dance is an art, a strategy, a plan. You can’t go off script— remember that.”

He’d supposed he’d followed instructions— he thought about it more often than he wished he would. 

Puppet strings tugged at his heart, his brain, his limbs, controlling each move on the stage according to a predetermined program, his freedoms drained as he claws for the prize. The prize, the glory, the excitement lies just beyond his reach, and frankly, out of sight; an image of potential greatness muddled beneath the faces of competition and judges alike, all aiming to stand in his way. 

Something inside of him ached for more than that end.

A sigh parted Isagi’s lips, hair strands clinging with static to the pillowcase as he pulled away, sitting up on the edge of his bed. Fingers with finely-painted black nails interlaced with his matching tie, undoing the knot that held the accessory’s composure before slipping the smooth fabric across his hands. He found himself entirely consumed in thought, unaware of his own actions as he lost himself within his mind while continuing his post-competition routine. 

Hot water splashed his hands, a wince escaping him as he pushed up just an inch on the dial in response, perfecting the temperature. Blue eyes blankly stared as the water collected, foaming up beneath the spout with the aggression at which the water flowed into the bath. A sprinkle of epsom salts and a short pour of bath oil splashed in, now-free hands carefully folding up removed clothing before lowering the man’s aching body into the sweet spa he’d created. He hissed as the scalding water brushed against bare skin, adjusting to the heat as it soothed his aching muscles and put his mind to ease. 

As he settled into his newfound comfort, leaning forward just to turn off the faucet, a gentle but firm knock interrupted his peace. 

“Yoichi?”

He groaned, sinking further into a watery escape; he obviously recognized the voice, even through the door.

“What’s up, mom?”

“The mail just came; you got this, uh—” He could hear her fidgeting with paper on the other end, along with the crinkling plastic of a letter window. “—this letter, it looks like it’s from a dance association!” 

Isagi’s eyes lit up, his demeanor shifting instantly as energy overflowed within him. His mom could certainly hear the abrupt splash of water , squeaking footsteps attempting to crawl their way out of a slippery situation.

“Holy sh— I mean, wow, really?” A towel quickly found itself in his hands, wrapped around himself snugly before swinging open the door. Wet footsteps trailed behind him, soaked strands of hair leaving beads of water on his face. He found himself holding the letter before his mother could even formulate a response, dots soaking through the thin paper as he ripped it open. 

Scanning over the page, he blinked wordlessly. 

You are invited to the World’s End Dancehall. 

. . . . . . .

“One night of ballroom dance… in hopes to ignite the Japanese dancing scene.” 

Words hung in the air as he reread over the letter, pacing back and forth in his room, hair still barely dry. His suit from earlier in the night was neatly folded atop his bed, the tie rolling from the pile to the floor as he sat down harshly beside it.

He grumbled as he continued muttering the instructions; “No bringing partners, come alone… How the hell does that make any sense?”

He set the paper frustratedly at his side, crinkling the page in his grip as his free hand pushed back his bangs, thumb rubbing over his temples to ease the tension. 

“They just expect us to… click with someone?” 

The formula wouldn’t like that. His freedom-driven heart would love that. 

He straightened out the now-creased paper, studying the letter with thoughtful intent.

When’s the date? Tomorrow— Sunday night. Attire? Dress to impress. The only rule? Don’t be fucking boring.

“Harsh,” he muttered, hurt. It’s ballroom dancing— can it be anything but boring? His spiteful attitude fed into his body, tensing his grip as he scanned the words to read through the last bit.

A dancer is only as good as their partner— find one that sets your heart ablaze. 

Half-crumpled paper fluttered to the floor as the young man stormed to his wardrobe, an aggressive touch rifling through outfits in sheer determination. His eyes seemed to shine a new emotion, feverish pupils darting across fabric, no piece seemingly good enough. A hand sunk into his hair, pushing it back with a rough grip atop his head. Isagi looked back to the letter he’d let fall to the ground, a newfound surge of energy.

“Fucking ridiculous. I’ll do it.” 

════════════════

The seventeen-year-old found himself wandering, car keys rattling in his hand as the other held up a map— if the mindlessly scribbled directions on the bottom corner of an invitation could even be called that. Tall blades of grass and weeds that grew amongst them brushed against his wrists, the only skin at that height not hidden beneath a smooth, blue-black suit. 

Black hair strands wisped out in front of his face, and he blew them away, the wind inevitably kicking them back moments later. Isagi, admittedly, was not one for fashion; this was not necessarily due to a disdain for it, but rather, a pure incompetence of the subject— how to accessorize properly, match colors, the like. It’s a fact he’d unfortunately accepted, struggling to find anything besides a standard outfit in his closet. 

Still though, with a night of Google searches and an ounce of his own creativity, he’d added his own touch. A blue vest was tight above a white undershirt, while his deep navy jacket rested at the forefront. The ultramarine bowtie he’d fished from his closet tied it together well, the shade mimicking the colors swirling in his eyes. Faint second thoughts crossed through him, nervous hands fidgeting with golden cufflinks. The dusty path beneath his feet soon turned to shimmering concrete. 

The once-distracted teenager glanced up, overgrown scenery flooding his vision, a grand hall in the center of an entirely abandoned area. Mind overcast with his own internal dialogue, he hadn’t even noticed the muttering of others, individuals all drawing closer to the location centered between them. Crowds gathered, pushing through the doors as if knowledgeable of their location— although, from more than just a second of observation, it was clear the masses were just as confused as he was. The moon granted the object of his curiosity a bit of light.

At first glance, the building that stood before him seemed a bit rickety and run-down, vines strewn along the supports as greenery overtook the bricks. It’d been painfully apparent the place was out of commission, at least until an odd party planner decided this to be the optimal hosting scene. He watched a number of attendees struggle over the cracked brick entryway, jagged rocks sticking out with weeds strewn about the concrete’s edges as the leading path broke off into the doorway. When it came his turn to walk through the passage, he made conscious note of the fractured spots beneath him, tip-toeing around them, for “a dancer with ruined shoes is no longer a dancer at all”. 

Perhaps that’d just been the instructions of his mom, ensuring as a young kid he’d kept his wares in good shape. He’d supposed, though, as his feet glided across the slick wood flooring that now met his stride, that a shoe with merely a crack could not allow for such smooth movement. His focus on the niceties distracted him from the intricate interior he stepped foot in. 

Gentle footsteps turned to screeching attempts to save balance as he felt himself meet the back of another, nearly toppling the both of them in the process. When he looked forward to apologize, he caught the cold glance of a black-haired boy nearly half a foot taller than him, and decided uttered words would be worse than simple silence to keep the peace. Though shaken, the incident turned his attention to the room expanding before him. 

Murmurs amongst the crowds bounced off the tall ceiling, a chandelier swinging with vibrations far above their heads. Odd knowledge of regalities told him it was Victorian – although it seemed to shine as if brand new, pulled out of the time from whence it was created to live out a life as an untimely, untouched masterpiece. Grand staircases curved in front of them, creating a cover around the doors standing far down the hall that well-dressed partygoers intermingled within. Royal red patterns detailed every wall, every crevice, every corner, with lengthy curtains draping over railings and empty wallspace longing to hold windows. Nearly every intricate detail of the interior felt medieval, aside from one glaring difference that, quite literally, stared them down—

Cameras. Dome cameras, pointed cameras swiveling on hinges, on a hunt; for each spot you felt secure, a camera could locate you, pinning down your exact footsteps and following closer than your shadow. The most prominent entries of the surveillance system projected their vision on a screen, hanging just behind the chandelier and just low enough to remain uncovered, although still being double Isagi’s own height above the floor. You could see each person projected above as they slowly raised their heads, the sudden shock hitting them as they struggled to decide whether they were the exhibition or the voyeurs. 

Isagi hadn’t noticed how thick the air grew as the crowd doubled, tripled, quadrupled into a horde. Shoulders bumped against each other, with little room but the alluring path that led down to the ballroom’s double-doors. Arms leaned on and hung over the railing’s edge above as they struggled finding space to fit into the decadent crowd. 

“Welcome, you unmolded lumps of coal.” 

. . . . . . .

Sudden silence fell over the crowd, the wind carrying whispers of spiteful remarks. Sharp hissing spat out from the speakers hidden amongst the walls, screens shifting from amorphous blobs of movement into a single view – one man, directing an expressionless glare at the lot below. 

His hair was a blatant mess, bangs brushing across the top of glasses hiding pupils behind their reflections. When he pushed one side of hair back, the cast of a ringlight bounced off of jewelry spotted across his fingers, rings that looked much too big for the thin frame of his hands. His lips could only seem to curl further down as he scowled. 

“Not used to disrespect, I see?” His voice was smooth, yet laced with an antagonizing bite. “Let’s keep in mind, the cameras do come with mics. Perhaps keep the bitterness to a minimum tonight.” 

His instructions quelled the crowd, the previous complainers shutting their mouths as their pride was quickly stripped. A few attendees cleared their throats as they struggled to bite their tongues.

The man projected above leaned back, as if he’d been seated in a rather-flexible computer chair. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? My name is Ego. You’ve all gathered here because you’ve received an invite — from Japan’s Professional Ballroom Dancers Association, no?”

Listeners below nodded along rather slow, and he continued.

“Yes, that’s right. Although, I’d say it was more from me than from them. The professional scouts were merely my pawns in deciding who’d get to play.”

Isagi let his focus wander across the countless heads surrounding him, trapping him in by height with his own suffocating thoughts. Simple frustration told him to cut his losses and leave with what unwasted time he’d still had left – but deep-hidden intrigue compelled him to stay. 

“You all read the letter,” Ego carried on, rolling his wrists as his hands spoke along with him. “We’re looking for a good duo, something that has to come naturally. If I saw you walk in with anyone,” his hands waved, as if shooing the crowd. “You’re disqualified. Get out.” 

The organizer groaned in the back of his throat as he saw a couple miniscule figures shifting through the crowd on the cameras, his disappointment apparent; his eyes read, however, that this was at least less work on his end. 

“Good. Carrying on— I had the Association’s scouts analyze you all individually. You’ve all presented in some sort of competition across the country; whether it was really an enjoyable performance or not is up for debate.”

Ouch. Isagi’s blank expression downturned into a frown. 

The negativity was quickly put out by the continuing monologue. “You roughly one-hundred individuals have all shown some level of promise, but you’re held back by the standards of being proper and prissy. The chains of formality are holding you back, and for most of you, it will continue that way.”

Murmuring ensued. “Struck a nerve?” The host taunted on, and for a moment, the first grin of the night had spread across his face. 

It was rather short-lived as he analyzed the reactions of his underlings. “It should have – unless your egos have all been replaced with a sorry excuse for people-pleasing.”

As he rambled on nonsensically about egoism and our supposedly pathetic talents, a figure stood half-visible beside the screen, just walking into frame and – assumably, based on his sudden shift and silence – mumbling something that held some level of importance. Her red-pink hair contrasted her highbrow appearance, a black suit top and long pencil skirt covered by a stack of carried papers. Ego nodded compliantly as a lanky, ring-adorned finger adjusted his glasses. 

“Right, time constraints; thank you, Anri.” 

Although apparently complaisant, a sigh slipped beneath his words. It’d seemed like he held an odd passion for this unusual competitive torment. 

“You all have one-hundred and eighty minutes — that’s roughly three hours, for those of you ill-educated. Two of you will go on to participate together with the Association— the rest of you are as good as dead. A majority of you here are coal, stuck to their destiny buried in some shitty kid’s stocking; but it takes immense pressure to turn near-coal into diamonds. If you’re not yet entirely molded, if your carbon molecules are still free enough to change, now is your time to shine. Or I suppose, if you’re all beyond saving, at least stoke a fire worth watching.”

Isagi felt the stilling of the crowd around him, following suit with his own mind. He couldn’t quite pinpoint when the words of the bastard behind the screen began to seem so appealing– but the silence only filled with harsh breathing led him to believe they all felt the same. 

“Your time starts now. Burn out, or burn bright.” 

The mesmerizing display fizzled away.

Seconds of confused glances were quickly met with answers, the doors down the hall swinging wide as the ballroom beckoned them in. The teen would say it seemed like magic, had his eye not caught the pass of a red hair wisp. 

A ticking above them caught his ear, and for a second, his focus shifted — a timer. One-hundred and eighty minutes. He’d hardly taken in the sight of it before the crowd’s forward movements swept him in. 

Time to make the most of it.

════════════════

The ballroom had been detailed just as decadent as the entryway, with the addition of marble arches patterned along the walls. The peculiar artistry had seemed to twist the room’s dimensions, the ceiling seeming to reach far into the sky with painted stars peppered across the sleek material. It’s as close as one could get to the outside, without (most) the disturbances of a modern reality. 

Tall windows stretched from top to bottom corners, although whatever reflected moonlight could be let in was blocked by the thick curtains strewn about; they’d been practically tied shut as to graciously remind attendees of their purpose, locking them into the intimidating atmosphere that’d determine their livelihood. 

That’s how Isagi saw it, at least. He didn’t quite consider the potential that others didn’t take it so seriously. The concept of a dancer not fully enveloping themselves within the act was entirely alien to him — he’d sooner engulf himself in the flames of devoted disaster before being remotely inattentive towards his craft. 

A familiar sharp tone pierced his ears, a low hiss in the background as notes enunciated themselves through the audible shroud. Speakers clicked on one by one, following the first, a sickening harmonious whine throwing a number of attendees off their balance. The pace was slow, lagging and intense; a horrendous first dance for new partnerships, Isagi’d thought. 

The dancers seemed to mix glances between each other, eyes all glazed over and empty with thoughtless confusion. Such a melodious tone required passion, but not so much to be uncomfortably forward amongst a sea of unfamiliar faces. Stand out, sure, but not out of form —that was the basis of a well-scripted ballroom masterpiece.

Scripted being the key, here. The word made Isagi drag his head back in discontent. 

His heels scraped against the waxed floors, which would provide perfect traction had they not been obviously recently done. Planted too hard against the ground, his shoes lifted up with a gluey schlick. Avoiding overcompensating his steps, for fear of overapplied pressure, was not something he could easily do in a high-strung state. 

His persistent-yet-failing attempts of flagging down a partner with merely his burning (realistically, dull) gaze had been met unrewarded. For the first time since he could remember, he was frozen, each puzzle piece of formulated strategy struggling to fall into place with the inconsistencies, the requirements for improvisation, the pure incoherency of everything—

The pieces crashed to his mind’s floor as the crowd pushed back suddenly. 

Nearly lost beneath him, his feet shifted to hold balance as his attention shot back, watching intermingled groups spread apart as a gap widened itself between the mass. Footsteps clicked against disagreeable flooring, a combination of the crowd’s stumbling, Isagi’s curious stride, and the sounds amidst the group he was so drawn towards.

“–ahaha! Come on, guys! You’re no fun!” 

Isagi refused to admit that he’d shoved his way through rather rudely, wedging himself between mingling potential-partners as the sound called him in. Each clack of movement from the undesignated source was simultaneously unrhythmic and in-step, as if following a tune entirely separate to the screeching hums surrounding them. Obscene on the ears as it was, it was intriguing, a term Isagi’d long learned to disassociate from dance entirely. To lack direction was to lose yourself, and to lose yourself was to lose focus— “one mustn't lose focus, or you’ll lose the beat!” or so they’d drilled into him. 

So why was this entirely self-gratifying cacophony of steps so satisfying?

He found himself promptly at the forefront of the congestion, which had still been shifting to avoid the centerpiece’s path.

A man– no, he had to be just his age, — pivoted on the ball of his foot, landing harsh on the other end with an outstretched hand. Breathless, his chest rose prominently with each desperate inhale that propelled him another step. Feathered strands of hair blew from his face, the majority of yellow bangs tied up just above his forehead, drops of sweat shimmering on exposed skin. Had the eccentricity of his movements not set him apart, his attire could easily do the job; White ruffles of a shirt hung from his chest, the buttoned center the only attempt at holding together an image amongst the sea of suits and ties. A belt, closer defined as a corset, held the fabric tightly to his waist, cinching off the flowy top to taper off into classic black pants, freshly-shined shoes already scuffed along their yellow trim. 

Something of the boy reminded him of a medieval mystery— perhaps a pirate, even, in attendance solely to pillage their prospect of normalcy. 

“It’s your loss; me and my monster are more than capable!”

He pivoted once more, hand drawn close to his chest before holding them out, grasping invisible hands of a partner nonexistent. Each footstep methodically followed the typical in-tandem moveset, a simple tango seeming so different with just the difference of one participant. That, and perhaps, the flair the demented dancer added along, his own steps in-time with what Isagi’d assumed was an internal rhythm. 

The display of oddity had at least spurred on some movement, other timid attendees coupling up as groups sectioned off. Floorspace grew wider as dancers ventured out of the herd— but perhaps this newfound confidence was only brought on by the collective still observing the questionably-solo performance. 

“Move over! Here comes the–”

Golden eyes burned with newfound passion as sensible, timed movements built up to grand measures. His multi-step movements quickly launched into a rotation, spinning himself before scratching heels against the fresh floor in an abrupt stop. His hand held out, not as if reaching, but as if guided by a partner in spirit, a ghostly hand the only separation between him and a cold, rough tumble to bystanders’ feet. Puzzled exchanges from onlookers seemed to miss a core detail: the way his arm tugged back in preparation.

As immersed as he’d let himself become with his craft, Isagi took notice of the slight change. A particular move he dared not practice alone, not just for safety, but physical inability— you can’t exactly be caught by air, and so there’s no way–

He’d pivoted sharply on his feet, pushing all his weight into a falling-back motion. 

Click.

Click, click, click.

The first footstep matched puzzle pieces convening; the rest met his heartbeat as he shot forward subconsciously. 

Barely-unfinished wax kept him from slipping, locking himself in place and thanking whatever minimum-wage janitor they’d hired for saving him from overshooting. The landing weight threw off his balance, legs shuffling beneath him in ill-preparation as he kept the young man firmly in his grasp. Wisps of hair fell from tied-up bangs, blown away with pursed lips as innocently playful eyes shone up at him. The golden-eyed expression quickly turned devilish as he laid in Isagi’s arms.

“Monster,” he bit down a sharp grin. 

. . . . . . .

Isagi’d not considered himself landing in this situation – sure, he was there to draw attention, that was this haphazardly-created game’s whole purpose; he’d just anticipated stares of awe over the gawks of judgement piercing his skin, a screwball dancer in delirium splayed across his arms. The tied-up tail of yellow bangs fell back atop his head, the few free strands of hair falling back to leave his sinister face in full display, giggling on an emotional high. It sort of made the blue-suited savior smile. 

Dragging his feet on the floor for traction, Isagi could sense the other’s attempt at pushing up, and he lifted him the remainder of the way to his feet. A heavy sigh of relief slipped through just barely parted lips, and the eccentric young man looked down to brush the wrinkles from his shirt — an impossible task for such a flowing garment, but it was the formality of it that mattered. 

“You should be more careful next time,” Isagi’s awkward ahem echoed as if there weren’t masses of dancers to muddle the sounds. His hands were trembling, twitching muscles a result of coursing adrenaline accumulating in his bloodstream without an outlet. The physiological response seemed purely reflexive, every cell in his body screaming out to dive in; he couldn’t quite explain, though, his lack of irritation. He’d expect to feel some sort of frustration from the circumstance he was in, the stupidity of another to dive backwards and risk injury in a competition so unusually selective and fickle. It was entirely reckless – risking the chance of a lifetime on some silly escapade. 

It was different. He loved that.

“I’m—”

“Isagi,” the name seemed to slip from his tongue too naturally. He’d outstretched an arm, pointing directly in the face of Yoichi himself, lips upturned with a gentle laugh. Monstrous eyes held a shine not before present on his own.  “You’re Yoichi Isagi.” 

Air caught in his throat, his own introduction stripped from his tongue. Black bangs blew forward with each shallow breath, an empty-headed glaze over blue eyes. He nodded.

“Do I know you..?” Who the fuck is this guy?

The respondent giggled. “No, I don’t think so!” 

His arm retracted fast, painted nails hiding away as hands curled into balls and pushed against naturally-flushed cheeks.

(Isagi’d assumed it was natural; or perhaps the oddball had been well-versed in makeup.)

“Meguru Bachira,” he beamed, and free yellow-and-brown strands fell past his lips. “I’ve seen you perform!” 

He wasn’t some big performer — that left more questions than answers. Bachira seemed to read well the confusion written across him.  

“I go to all the shows I can,” The oddity further explained himself, each word enunciated with a playful undertone, even as he eased Isagi’s confused concern. “Gotta know my competition, y’know?” 

For as short as he’d known the man, the other couldn’t help but smirk. “And for me, you took conscious note?”

“Oh, well your dance was pretty average.”

Isagi’s smug smile was quickly replaced by defensiveness, posture sealing himself off. A mental brick wall constructed instantaneously as forgotten guards replaced themselves. Right– competition. We’re here to judge and be judged, aren’t we?

One could call it a rash response, but frankly, he owed no niceties to a could-be stalker. His arms crossed in pout. 

He’d expected Bachira to pick up on his tonal shift, to redirect, or perhaps overcompensate and fawn him up. Rather, he seemed aloof, bouncing up on his toes as arms swung behind his neck, extending one into a cat-like stretch that rattled his body. He didn’t seem the most socially apt, but something about this observation eased the sting of his affront. 

“It wasn’t bad,” his words were elongated as his muscles released their tensions, falling back to his sides after with a huff. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t mean anything. You just seemed…” 

The shorter (which Isagi grumbled about silently— he always seemed to be the shorter) softened, willing and curious to listen. Bachira’s hand revolved at the joint in circles as he struggled to find the proper words. 

“...Bored. Withdrawn. And that’s just no fun, is it, huh?”   

“Bored?” 

“Yeah,” the barely-taller let his head weigh to the side. “Like ‘ya were following some script or something, I guess.”

Quite rude of him to clock me so easily. Or to act like that isn’t the norm.

“You don’t?” Isagi scoffed.

Bachira’s expression seemed blank, nonplussed, but shifted with intrigue as he spoke. “No. I dance with my monster. It says to dance the way I want to.” 

They’d caught each other off guard, heavy stares into eyes that were slowly understanding each other. A brick loosened from that mental guard wall, crashing to the floor, only the view of each other’s gaze, the window to their souls, left in the open space. Bachira found himself extending an upturned hand without thought. The other needn’t look to know. 

“You could try… dancing with a monster, too?”

There’s that familiar click again.

Perhaps it’d been the pieces snapping into place, or maybe it’d been the sound of their heels against the ground, hand in hand as he dragged Isagi along. The tappings of what’d been set in motion were the only noise audible to their ears, centering themselves amidst the sea of dancers that had finally been majority paired up.The music that played had long shifted from achingly slow, a pace more akin to each loud thump of Yoichi’s heart. Their fingers had interlaced long before they’d thought to ask, and so, they’d indirectly acknowledged, this was okay. This meetcute was unconventional— but Isagi craved unconventional. It was certainly something they shared, reveling in a need for defiance and egoism. It was simply a possibility he’d never been presented before—

Not until Meguru Bachira.

Their heels had dug into the somewhat-sticky wax of the floors, thwacking as they lifted into smoother, softer strides. Their steps danced around each other, never overtaking the other; rather, each movement seemed to fuel the other, catapulting them into new possibilities. A simple counting tango spun around on its head; the golden-eyed teen’s feet in-count with the other’s as he encapsulated him from behind, hands holding his partner’s from behind and arms folded into an “x” before releasing Isagi from the contained space, pivoting on the ball of his foot with each an outstretched arm barely holding on to one another. When Bachira pulled him back in, he’d lift his arms just too high up, forcing Isagi onto his toes so he could more easily glide him across ill-prepared floors. 

“Don’t let me have all the fun,” the tone was low, laced with mischief and underlying laughter; Bachira’d leaned in just beside his ear, black locks brushing against brown-and-yellow wisps of hair as his breath warmed him, bringing sensation back to the surreal. “Take over, monster.”

“I’m no monster,” Isagi scoffed, eyes rolling in diffidence. No, that was a title reserved for Bachira, or whatever voice he had whispering in the winds around him, the one only he could hear. That was a name, based off what he’d witnessed, reserved solely for one who’d step out from the status quo, and Yoichi Isagi was not that one, no matter how much he’d like to be. He couldn’t help but analyze each precarious step he made, desperate to keep in-line with the other. How could movements so spontaneous be so skillful, as if the concepts were premeditated within an instant of a second?

“Sure you are— in there,” A rough arm tug pulled the doubtful dancer in, stumbling over his own feet and landing inches away from Bachira’s index finger, yellow nail polish filling half of his vision as the boy pointed to his eye. Isagi released a tense breath as he caught his balance and felt confident he wasn’t about to get his eye poked out. 

“There’s a fire inside of you. I see it.” 

God, this guy is fucking insane. He didn’t feel knowing that was any more practical for bringing out his “monster”. 

“No, really,” He continued, giggles easing Isagi’s apprehension. “Your eyes sparkle a lil’ different when we dance together. I pay a lot of attention to eyes, y’know.” 

Isagi snickered. “You get off on them?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Gross,” He laughed, but his shameless demeanor read that he wasn’t lying – maybe he shouldn’t lock eyes with the psycho so much.

But he couldn’t deny the way he burned up looking at him. 

Isagi blinked away illicit ideas, ones of which towed the line between dance, and matters more personal. When their hands met back-to-back, knuckles tough against soft skin, invisible needles pricked his skin with warmth as hair stood on end. They paced circles around each other, and, although his mind was just as clouded as before, perhaps it’d helped that his dancing capabilities were no longer alone at the forefront. Maybe it’d been shameful to admit that his focus had progressively shifted since the other had landed in his arms. 

Too enveloped in his own mind, his foot swept out from under him. A kick to his heels, he fell backward, a sneer just above him as the harsh thud of wooden floors never met him. 

What a bastard. “You—”

“Kicked your feet out,” Bachira shone. At least he was honest, and for that fact, quite blunt. Isagi’d started to wonder if he was consciously ill-socialized— but he took a liking to that, matched with the playful attitude. Within-the-box thinking was such a bore.

Gold eyes burned holes in the other’s inhibition, each taunt returned with a touch more confidence in his moves. Bachira’d stopped leading alone some time ago, Isagi’s own fire stoked with each prod from the monster. For as much as he was a rule-follower, it was clear— there was an ego buried beneath that front, simply never allowed to breathe. 

And by God, was Bachira one to fan the flames; even if they’d become explosive. 

Isagi beared intense pressure into his heels, lifting himself up with precarious footfall with pants hidden beneath hardly-parted lips. The challenge presented by such an eccentric dancer only fueled egoistic behavior, determined to match— no, that wasn’t enough; devour — his partner, to chew him up and spit him back out so long as he’d resurrect better again and again. 

Does that even make sense? Did it need to make sense? At least, to anyone but them?

Someone so attuned to their own ego like Bachira could read the scrawl of arrogance in just half a second.

Tight grip tugged at the monster’s hands, lacing fingers in an instant as eyes widened, stupefied. A wicked grin twisted Bachira’s lips, canines dragging against the soft skin of his bottom lip in an anticipation for Isagi’s explosive reaction. Dragged back, he launched into Isagi’s arm, dipped just to the brink of hitting the solid floor before being thrown back into movement and spun on an axis. Heavy pants preceded sincere smiles as the two met, painted nails fidgeting against the hands of their partners as their breath mingled within just an inch of each others’ face. They dared not feed the flicker that led their eyes astray to parted lips, a certain level of intimacy begging to be achieved with the intensity of their movement and the conveining of their thought processes — so focused on the moment, acting of pure reflex, that they’d not paid any attention to their partner’s identical lingering thoughts. 

Their footsteps careened along with the rhythmic thumps of the beat, shifting regularly but never throwing the couple off-pace. Seamless transitions from swift movements to tender, patient steps would have normally caught either of the two off-guard, surprised in their own capability, had it not been for the distraction that was their competition. 

For a moment, he’d thought, competition was an odd word to use — the goal was to create partners, was it not? Partners, a designated duo that could only flourish with the proper preparation, with staying in-line and in-rule of the other’s limitations and following a script designated by them both.

No script followed their moves, but oddly, they met at the crossroads of perfection together. Their formula made zero sense, didn’t line up; was it supposed to? Was everything about dance supposed to be so formulaic, so proper?

No, the monologue spat out Isagi’s perturbed thoughts, the ones he struggled to accept on his own accord. That’s where you failed— there’s no enjoyment this way.

Fuck the rulebook. This is my version of dance. 

His gaze flickered off of the movements he made, up to the face of his partner, flushed with fervor and a passion that hung in the air. His yellow bangs were still mostly tied up, free strands feathering across a sweat-glistened face and across lashes that fluttered shut with bliss. It’s as if he could feel Isagi’s admiration, and when eyes opened up to meet his own, they burned with a fury even stronger than before— moreso, it’d felt like his previous fire held deep in his soul had reached new possibilities, a new chemical in the mix creating a catastrophic, beautiful explosion.

The version I perform with my monster.

A final spin launched Isagi into a slide, grip digging into the ground to catch himself. His arm desperately outstretched to reach his partner, the silence highlighting the way Bachira squeezed onto his hand, as if emotional at the concept of letting go. The gentle yet secure grip left Isagi with a lump in his throat, swallowing down emotions that bubbled up deep within. 

Maybe the whirling footsteps weren’t the only reason his head spun, the fast-paced footfall not the reason his heart raced with freshly-ignited ferocity. His stomach turned upside-down when Bachira pulled him back up, and he stumbled, the shorter’s foot trampling the taller’s as he steadied him in his arms.

Maybe it’d been the thrum of his heart that’d prevented the realization — the fact that the music stopped, speakers silenced as the crowd surrounding them was no longer. The flood of faces previously observing them had thinned all to none, the sharp whine of a shifting screen not enough to draw them apart. Their footsteps had sounded loud on their own, tuned-in to themselves, no, to each other. Bachira giggled, awkward enjoyment hidden beneath hot air, and the vibrations of his partner’s laughter pressed against his chest only made it harder for Isagi to still his heart. They didn’t dare discuss their inability to pry their eyes off of each other as the speakers rattled with a voice painfully familiar.

“Time’s up, you unmolded lumps of coal.” His tone was hoarse, and the two wouldn’t doubt he’d been screaming at them to stop. It couldn’t have been long, or he’d have sent the red-headed girl in– what was her name? “Anri”? 

The blunt-banged planner leaned back, likely still seated in an unpictured computer chair, filtered out by the camera in place of shoddy backdrop graphics. His lanky arms folded behind his head, a deep groan escaping him as if he’d exhausted himself. 

“You’ll notice we’ve removed everyone else from the room,” Ego spoke matter-of-factly, although additional words followed in a low, almost-whispering grumble.

“If you’d’ve bothered to look up, outside of your damn selves.” 

Bachira snickered, sharp canines teasing his tongue as his gaze scanned Isagi not-so-subtly, obviously playing it up. It was hard to tell how serious his out-of-pocket actions were, and the concept of legitimacy sent Isagi into turmoil; he especially didn’t want to admit his racing thoughts were far from anger-fueled.

“We’ve thinned our competitors down to the cream-of-the-crop; sad to say, most others just couldn’t keep up. Snivelish as they are, their ego never seemed to take precedent over egregious rules.” 

Isagi blinked mindlessly. How he’d nearly forgotten the competition they took part in actively was beyond him — he’d found his mind locked onto a different driving force. 

There was something more that led him further now. 

“Congratulations, unmolded lumps of coal—”

His words muffled in the background. Isagi could lip-read, had he bothered to look— had his eyes not remained on his new object of burning desire. 

The rules were no longer what drove him, they were no longer the perfection he strove for.

He watched as eyes crinkled up in excitement, Bachira’s joy beaming off his face as he turned to pull Isagi into a threateningly-tight hug. Something deep in the teen’s mind begged for the subject’s further praise and approval, but the squeeze of his muscles underneath intense strength would have to suffice. He’d have plenty of time to sort out emotions with his new goalpost—

His perfect partner, Bachira. His monster.

Isagi paid no attention to the competition’s close, aside from his success alongside his other, the prospect of a future they were destined to chase together. He’d expected his heart to slow when stakes were gone, but it’d kept intensity even long after. Enveloped in sheets that night, he was near-restless, a constant replay of the day looping in his thoughts. Ironically, he couldn’t seem to remember a single dance move, a single strain of steps he’d taken to achieve his goal— all that remained was reflex and invigoration flowing through veins, newfound fervor he couldn’t explain at the presence of the monster met today. 

His face softened into a smile. This is the version of dance he’d craved.

════════════════

[bilaudad]

"Now, you listen to me"

one of my favorite scenes from chapter 15 of @moonyinpisces' brilliant fic how do we turn on the light <3

(chapter 16 just dropped last night though, kicking off act 3, and it SLAPS go read it!!)

[sirfrogthe3rd]

"If an artist falls in love with you, you can never die."

[awordsmith]

rained on with you 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you attend a few of Spencer's classes as an auditor for personal reasons and he calls you out in front of the class, and has no idea just how off he is.

katcember

who? spencer reid x college!reader when? s13 category: angst to fluff (hurt/comfort) content warnings: kidnapping of a sibling, mentions of sa (not you), anger, shouting, stress, public embarrassment, student/professor dynamic (you're not his student), Spencer being sexually harassed by female students, intense despair and sadness, self-loathing, guilt, thoughts of murder, happy ending, not proofed, reid with care word count: 8.7k a/n: my first post, be pleasant! this actually made me cry because I've had a teacher I trusted and felt comfortable with yell at me for something I thought was completely okay in front of not only my class, but another class. enjoy!

You cursed yourself, there was something about the dreary weather outside that had you rushing through the outdoor halls of the building that made everything worse, you thought perhaps it was because it perfectly resembled what you felt inside.

It's been a month, you'd told yourself the first time you'd decided to audit the first class. It was a sociology class by a woman you'd never heard of, it wasn't even a general class needed for your major, you could have taken it as an elective, sure, but by that time, the deadline to add and drop classes had ended.

You'd taken notes and must have read them a hundred times over again, the police were kind at first, understanding, but as you began to compile more and more information, they stopped listening.

Two months had gone by and they'd eventually labeled her as a runaway. It wasn't uncommon for girls her age, but you knew your sister, and it just did not make sense.

That's when you decided it was you or no one, your parents could not handle the thought of anything else, and they too–eventually–chose to move on. "For the better," they'd said, it had made you so angry and feel so incredibly helpless at the same time.

How could they–her own parents–give up just like that?

Not you. You would never forget your sister, nor her person. You had gone over the day multiple times in your head and yet could not wrap around the fact that she'd just vanished without a trace.

You were entering the third month of her disappearance in December, and coincidentally her birth month. You did not want to celebrate without her and though the mere thought of her threatened tears rolling down your cheeks, you couldn't stop. It was as if the guilt wouldn't let you.

During the day, you attended your normal classes, and at night, almost every night, including Friday–tonight–you'd attend a lecture-based class that surrounded around psychology, sociology, and criminology. You had become a regular in each of the classes, criminology being the last you started attending.

You took vicarious notes, and when you weren't studying for your course classes, you were cramming as much information you'd learned from your secret night classes into your head and pouring it into your sister's disappearance.

To quench your need for sleep, you'd taken up drinking a lot more coffee than one should normally take in a day. You had been running a little behind schedule, so when you walked into the lecture hall and all eyes–including the professor's–fell on you, you absently took a small step back.

"Sorry I'm late," you murmured, avoiding his eyes as you moved to take a seat in the front like you normally did. The hall wasn't that big and most students sat in the back-row, what few did sit in the front were pretty quiet and never said a word to you. The lights were always dim, but enough for you to see your paper and pen.

The scent of rain and coffee wafted through the air as you began the trek to your normal seat. A question abruptly stopped you in the middle of the row, you had passed all the other students and you normally would have deigned to go around them, but thought not to interrupt the prof introducing the topic of today.

"What's your name?" Called the professor. You were startled as you set your back pack on the floor and slid into a seat.

"My–my name?" you swallowed, wishing the floor would swallow you.

"Yes, your name." His voice was thick and laced with something more than displeasure.

You glanced up at him, biting your cheek for a moment, deciding how to respond. What could it hurt? You thought. You looked back up at him, meeting his eyes, they were soft, and for some reason you abruptly wondered how old he was, surely not much older than you. You mumbled out your name, then shifted in your seat to lean down and rummage through your bag for your notebook.

"I don't actually believe you're in my class," he glanced around the room briefly before his eyes returned to you, your head down. He waited patiently for you to lift it again and meet, "I'm not in the habit of being straightforward like this," he began walking toward you.

Your heart pounded in sync with each step he took. Was he made you hadn't asked him to audit his class? You should have just asked him, but he always seemed to be with someone, you even once tried to find him during his office hours, but you didn't really want to go into depth about why you wanted to listen to his lectures. You'd barely escaped the previous two.

Besides, he'd looked intimidating, just as he did now, hovering above you with his arms crossed, "tell me," you kept your head down as your cheeks grew red, knowing every one in the class had their eyes on you, "why do you keep coming back?"

When you didn't respond as you just didn't know how, he scoffed, "listen, I don't mean for this to come off as personal, but stop." You jerked your head upward, eyes pleading. He was the only professor that aloigned with your schedule.

He rolled his eyes, ran a hand down his face, and sighed. "Stop–just," he held bout a hand, a resigned and indifferent expression on his face, "girls like you are the reason I don't allow auditors in my class anymore. If you're not curious about the material, there is no reason for you to be here."

"But I am," came the tiny squeak of your voice.

He laughed, but tried to cover it up with a cough as he deigned to look at you again, "I have students here," he motioned toward the other students in the hall with his arms, "who I'm sure would appreciate their time and energy being respected, I know I do." His face fell flat, "so do us all a favor and–

"What?!" Came your realized reply. For as long as it took you, you were surprised the prof had not yet realized the mixup. You felt less embarrassed now and more–pissed. How arrogant can one person be? How big is too big an ego? "Are you crazy?" You couldn't help the shout as you stood.

To his credit, the prof–yeah, you didn't even know his name–and he thought, you scoffed internally, rolling your eyes on this outside, you took a few steps forward until you were in front of him. You shoved your notebook in his chest and waited for him to grab it before taking another step back, doing your best to ignore the number of eyes that were most defiantly flying between you and the prof.

"Look, I'm sorry I interrupted your lecture, and I'm also sorry for not asking to audit it, but to say that I've been using my free nights where I could be sleeping or working on her case to see you–" you took a breath, face flushed despite how you both wanted to laugh and cry and scream, "whatever," you shook your head, a scoff leaving your lips as you did so; you turned around, snatched your book bag from the floor, and stormed out, letting the metal door fall closed with a hard thud.

You only got a few paces away before tears began welling in your eyes and you plastered yourself against a nearby wall, the car lot you'd been at no more than 5 minutes ago right around the corner. "I'm sorry," you whispered, "I'm so–o, so-rry," you wiped your eyes, your voice trembling with and cracking with the weight of the day and the most recent events. You knew that it wasn't the last you'd see of that prof, you'd need to go back eventually to get your notebook back, that is–if he kept it, for all you knew he'd thrown it away already.

Whatever the case, just one last time, you'd need to talk to him just once more, if only to get your stupid notebook back that you stupidly handed over in a moment of dumbfounded and audacity-stricken. You just couldn't believe it.

You shook your head, swiping at the tears that had began streaming down you face. You'd go during one his office hours, perhaps he'll feel sorry or guilty. Good, you thought, he should.

Not tonight though, tonight, you were sleeping, you weren't going to think about anything. Your body was exhausted and you knew it; it had been for a while and yet you neglected it the sleep it desperately needed for favor of finding your sister and keeping up your normal schedule.

Just one night, you thought, making your way into the lot.

Huffing, you stuffed your hands into your pockets, it had been a few days now, you let Saturday and Sunday pass, Monday too, today, you couldn't handle it any longer. You needed your notebook, you were nearly there, you had gone over your suspect list, you had what you thought was a solid profile, though you couldn't be too sure, you were planning to go over it with the sociology professor when you had the chance, though you had no idea if she'd be able to give you anything more, especially if she didn't take it seriously.

You were just thinking that you could probably say it was a personal project, something to get your gears turning when you ran headfirst into someone. "Oh, I am so sorry," you backed away, reaching an arm out to steady the girl.

She glanced at you, tear-marks down her face, "it's fine," she huffed and held her head up, "it's nothing," she smiled painfully, "my fault really," she turned to you with an endearing expression, "thank you, though." She walked off quickly, no doubt wanting to get to her car.

It was such a strange experience, you had to rub your own head, thinking you'd hit it too hard and that's why you weren't walking in a straight line.

Nearing his office, you puffed out your chest, ready to stand your ground and demand your book back if necessary. You didn't believe yourself above the law, but spending a night or three in a jail didn't seem all too bad when only God knew what your sister was going through.

The smell of coffee hit you, like it always did, it became somewhat familiar in your routine, smelling it now–when you normally didn't–almost through you off.

You cleared your head and were about to clear your throat before stepping into his office, when you caught a sentence, he wasn't alone. You raised a brow and pressed your back against slightly ajar door, "please," it was the prof–his shaggy brown hair and puppy brown eyes appeared as a perfect image in your head, though his eyes were narrowed in your depiction. You glared back at the him from last Friday, then paused, catching the other side of the conversation.

"I–I don't know what you mean," murmured the student–a girl. You briefly thought of the girl you'd ran into, then through the image away in favor of eaves dropping. "I just," a char creaked and a heavy sigh came.

"Listen," the prof's gruff voice was lighter this time, he sounded almost...awkward. You smirked at it, now he was intimidated by a girl? An actual student of his no less? What kind of pathetic–

"I just was to know how I can please you, in the class, I mean," she corrected yourself, but the meaning was there and it made you cough, you'd covered it in time, swiftly moving your face into the inner side of your elbow.

"And I've told you," the prof's chair shifted, man he must be uncomfortable, you thought, feeling a little sorry for him. You had no idea–it just never crossed your mind–that he could have been yelling at you from a reasonable stand point.

You sighed and through your head back, prepping yourself for something you most definitely shouldn't do.

"I know what you said, Sir, but," the girls voice began to get pushy, which is when you thought it finally time.

You swept open the door all the way and stepped inside, arms crossed a sly smile on your face, "sorry to interrupt, oh," you let your eyes fall to the girls, "sorry I didn't know you were with someone, but," you had the decency to try looking regretful, "I'm sorry, this is really important."

It took a few seconds for the girl to register that you were now addressing her. She glanced at your dominating figure and then back at the prof, who looked both grateful and constipated. You bit your cheek to keep from laughing.

"Right," the prof said, turning to the girl who now went limp in the chair, "thank you for stopping by, I appreciate it I do."

The girl nodded solemnly, understanding this was a polite way of being dismissed. She collected her things gravelly, which is when you paused, she was young–fresh out of high school young. What was she doing trying to mess with a professor her first year in university?

Her face pinged familiar when she looked at you and you instantly made the connection from the girl you'd bumped into earlier. Your eyes widen and a just barely audible, "oh," came from you mouth.

When she was gone, you took a breath before turning back around, meeting his eyes in a silent, "so, that was crazy," his lips formed a line and his eyes almost shrugged for him.

"Does that happen a lot?" You didn't know why you asked, but you did, and well, he answered didn't he?

"More times than students come in with actually problems." He frowned, eyes fixed on the door left open.

"Maybe that just mean you're a good teacher?" You raised a brow, at least you thought he was, he did ramble sometimes, but it was enjoyable, seeing as how you were used to it. Well, you used to be, Your face tightened, "my notebook," you roamed your eyes over his desk before looking up again, "I want it back."

He nodded thoughtfully, watching you for a moment, "who is she?"

Your eyes fell, so he had read it, "my sister."

He nodded again, though you only looked back up when he pulled open a drawer. "I assume you..." his sentence broke off when heavy rainfall began.

He glanced at the door again, then at you, to which you smiled, though small, kind, "we can leave it open."

Relief filled his face and just for a second it made you angry on his behalf. Why hadn't he gone to the dean of his college? Surely it wouldn't be as bad as what he'd been going through now.

You opened your mouth to say something about it, but he spoke before you, "uhm, the case, it was dropped?"

You nodded, "yeah, last month."

"I assume you have a list? This was pretty detailed work," he held up your notebook.

"Thank you, but that's not all I have," you informed, "that's just my notebook for your class, which is incredibly insightful by the way, you should really think about becoming full time, your lectures aren't that hard to understand once you're comfortable and familiar with the material and usage of vocab..u...lar..y..." you dropped of your sentence, glancing away.

He chuckled, almost startling you out of your seat, "it's okay, I do that sometimes too."

You smiles slightly, "I know, you do it constantly during your lectures and seminars."

His smile cracked and he looked a little worried, "do I?"

You snorted, "Don't worry, they're interesting and most of the time relatable to the discussion or topic." He nodded, looking a little conscious. "So," you prodded, noting the book still in front of him.

"Oh, right," he picked the book up and handed it back to you, you didn't know what else to say, so you began to stand, "you know," his voice echoed through the office, though not large and with rain pouring down as if a hurricane was about to roll in, still clear, "if you want I can take a look at it, I am an FBI profiler."

You turned back to him and raised a brow, "what was your name again?"

He looked shellshocked, "you, you don't know my name?"

"Don't take it personal," you waved off, "I don't know my real professors' names, I call them all prof or professor for a reason."

"Do you call me professor?" He smiled, intrigued by the sudden admission. It was a little feeing, knowing that not only did he have a student in his office whom enjoyed his seminars and took detailed notes during his lectures, but who didn't have a single clue who he was. He'd written paper's, was on live television more times than he could recall–and he had an eidetic memory–and still, she did not know a single thing about him other than he taught twice a week once on a Wednesday night and once on a Friday night. He was honestly surprised he was able to get off work in time to head over to campus and set up.

"Prof," you said, grinning smugly, "professor isn't your style."

"Why not?" He scrunched his brows together.

"You're too young, it makes me feel weird and takes a hit at my pride," you grabbed your chest dramatically.

A snort came from his throat as he watched you reenact Romeo and Juliette, act 5, scene 3. He paused, referring to you as Juliette could be misinterpreted and he did not want that. He liked talking to you despite himself and he frowned as he recalled how he'd embarrassed you lat Friday, "I'm sorry," he tilted his head downward, watching your smiling eyes find his, "last Friday, that was uncalled for..."

You stared at him for a long while, trying to figure out how to say it, but eventually gave up and let your thoughts spill out, "yes, it was." He winced slightly at the harshness, you did too, you hadn't realized hoe hurt you still were, but you sighed, "at least I thought it was." He lifted his eyes and you averted yours, "look, it's not my place or anything, but what's happening is not okay, it's harassment. You should.." you bit your lip, frowned, and met his eyes through your lashes, "why haven't you gone to the dean?"

He took a breath and sat down in his chair, it squeaking on impact. You watched him run a hand through his hair, he looked contemplative, "I don't know...I just," he huffs, "they're kids, they have their entire life ahead of them, I don't know how I could just take that all away because of some silly crush."

The way he said "silly" instead of "stupid" or "annoying" made you smile. Your heart warmed and at the same time you felt sorry for him, but you were also beyond confused, "you said you were an FBI profiler?" He nodded, "then, how can't you tell the difference between–" you stopped yourself, that wasn't fair to him at all. "All right," you nodded, "if you won't go to the dean, that's your choice," you pressed your lips together, "but if you ever need a rescuing like today," you patted your arm, "I can be your superman."

His eyebrows furrowed, "don't you mean supergirl?"

"Nah," you smiled smugly again, "I mean superman."

He nodded, a grin falling over his face like it'd been waiting to break free, "okay, thanks. Oh, and–uhm," he pulled out his phone, "should I email you?"

You nodded, "as long as you let me continue auditing your class."

He smiled, eye alight with something you were certain you had never seen cross his face in the two months you'd been taking his lectures and seminars. "If you want me to look at your sister's case," he said quietly after you'd hit the door, "I'd be willing to mention it to my team."

Your eyes widened and you spun around, tears already in your eyes, you kept your hope down, but your thankfulness as clear as the notion you were going to get soaked before reaching your car was. "I would appreciate it greatly, even if nothing comes of it."

He smiled, "I'll let you know what they say after class tomorrow."

"Thank you," you swiped at your eyes, wondering how someone who you had never spoken to you up until now could make you cry so much.

You spun around, notebook covered under you shirt, and headed down the hall, where you were bound to face the wrath of the climate.

You worked out the finality of your suspect list, you could not narrow it as you'd have to actually interact with these people, and if you did, you could only think of what that meant for you sister. You didn't have all the information the cops had gathered, in fact you had significantly less, the only thing you had that the cops didn't was relation.

You threw your head back and groaned, you were hoping the prof had done his job. Yes, you still called him prof, it hit you a few minutes after ringing out your clothes before getting in your car, he'd never told you his name. You felt an urge to go back and ask, knowing it was going to keep you up at night, but as much shit as you talked, you were not brave enough to face the wind and rain again.

You were waiting for it to start hailing, thanking your school for having rooftops over their car lots. Sure enough it did bug you, but what bugged you more was what his team would say. Would they help? Would they roll their eyes and state that she clearly just ran away? Your sister was 23, her birthday was around the corner, you were just a year younger, though your birthday had passed already.

You slide out of your car, breathing in the fresh air, hoping the wind was all you got tonight. You felt someone watching you, knew you were probably just tired. It had happened a few times, so you weren't too concerned.

You were early, not wanting to cause any disruption like the last time you were here. It was a Wednesday, but at this time, the school wasn't as crowded, sometimes, if you were desperate you parked in the teaches lot and hopes no one would pay too much attention.

Your nose picked up the scent of coffee again and you couldn't help the cheeky grin that spread across your face, nor the welling in your eyes. What would he say? Would his team take the case? Would they try helping anyway if they couldn't? Despite yourself, you couldn't help but hope.

When you popped your face in, there were a few students already settled. Some glanced at you, some were too distracted by their phones, none seemed to be much affected by your presense.

"Oh, there you are," came a deep and yet squeaky voice. You spun around, finding the prof behind you, he tightened his lips, averting his eyes from your every time you found his.

Your heart failed, they had denied it. You gulped and prepared yourself, "it's alright–"

"So, they took the case–"

He startled at your disappointment as you startled at his shifty eyes. "What?" Your voice seemed octave, "what do they think?"

"Well," he stepped away from the door and moved you along using ah hand on your back so that a student might get through. You wondered what they thought of you, probably incredibly confused as to why you were still here, having an intimate conversation with their professor after he had so easily confirmed his distaste of you just a few days ago.

"What happened?" You prompted, "just tell me, I can take it." You nodded assuredly.

He huffed, stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned his back adjacent the wall, "how long has your sister been missing?"

"December 21 will make it a full three months," you stated, "what does it matter?"

"They've agreed to take the case, but they're concerned," he started, "they–" a few students passed us and entered the classroom.

You glance down at your phone, "we can continue after class," you spun around without a word and entered the class, half wondering why in the world his team took the case, you were pretty sure–from what you gathered in your night lessons–FBI profilers, BAU agents, only dealt with serial killings. It was a long shot really, and you knew there were likely cases that rendered more serious, but you just could not pass up the offer.

You didn't want to question it, but you did, the prof ended class early and that's it, you thought, I need his name, calling him prof isn't going to do it anymore.

You collected your things slowly, waiting for the hall to empty. When it was, you headed for his desk at the corner of the room. "They never found a body?" He questioned as soon as you braced your hands against his desk, back pack discarded to the side on the floor.

"No," you shook your head, eyes determined, "if they did, my parents or I would have been called in to ID it." You were sure she was still alive, you could feel it.

"If they haven't found a body, there's a good chance she's still alive," he affirmed your suspicions, in any case, I'm not really suppose to be discussing this with you...but I think we're a little past that."

"I'm superman," you remind him, chuckling away the pain in your voice "only kryptonite can hurt me."

He smiled, genuinely, kindly, "they've already started working on it."

Your eyes widened, "already? The police reopened the case?"

He faltered slightly, "not exactly...but...we have skilled...team members."

"My lips are sealed," you mimed zipping your lips.

"Did you bring your suspect list?" You raised a brown and he smiled smugly, as if to say, "come on now."

You pulled your book bag onto his desk as he stood and brought around a stool that seemed to have materialized from thin air. You moved out the way and allowed him to set it down, murmuring a thank you as you took a seat.

He was dialing someone on his phone as you slid over your list, when the person answered, he put the phone on speaker, "hey, Garcia, I'm gonna need you to run background check on a list."

"What'doyou got for me, Doctor?" Came a woman's voice from the other side of the line.

Doctor? You squinted your eyes, watching the man in front of you. Accomplished, was the world that boiled in your mind, this man was incredibly accomplished, how old was he exactly? It made you wonder, honestly. You were in your last year of college, ready to go full time after this year, but not without your sister. You still had so much you wanted to do with her.

The phone call ended, you had tuned out the entire time, "you're skilled teammate, I suppose," you raised a brow, your lis quirked slightly upward.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you'd make a one hell of a profiler." He grinned back, eyes lingering.

Your heart thrummed in your chest, oh no, your subconscious screamed, but your conscious replied anyway, "and what do you know, Doctor?"

He snorted, "alright, first of all, it's Spencer, second of all," he lifted and pointed a finger at your clothing, "you stress easily, you clean up neater when you're trying to mask something, probably juggling being a full time student and full time rookie cop," his eyes dipped to your bag, where a pin of a true crime show you loved sat perfectly, "you have interest in crime, but you'd hate the profession because of the long hours." He reached for your bag and instead of stopping him, you watched, amazed,"you prefer alone time," he placed your current read in front of you, "which means you're most likely single and have been for while," he glanced at you momentarily, then went back to rummaging, "you listen to music when you're trying to focus," he set down your headphones and sets your bag to the side again, "and I can't prove it on my own, but I guarantee if you open your phone right now and look at your purchase history, it'll have more than the average orders spent at the coffee shop across from campus."

You nodded and gulped, "a magician."

He tilted his head with a crooked grin and raised and eyebrow, "no, it's–it's just–"

"–fucking awesome?" You asked, amazement written stark across your face.

"Yes," he cleared his throat, "well, anyway," he forced his gaze back down at the list in front of you when his phone rings.

It's the girl again, says a woman, Emily, had more information and thinks he may have a location. From what you got, your sister was most likely captured by a sex trafficking ring. Your heart sinks when you hear the new, hoping and praying they were able to find her, but you knew the probability, it had been months. "She could be half way across the world by now," your throat was raw and thick.

"Hey," Spencer placed his hand over yours, "it's going to be okay. I promise." But he didn't say they'd find her, he didn't say the probability of her being found at all could be a one in a million chance, and that's when you thought almost irritatingly, he is way too good at his job.

You stood outside the coffee shop a day later, watching the downpour of the day, huffing as you stepped inside the offered warmth of the shop. There was the usual barista at the counter, her smile genuine, "hey, I was just talking about you."

"Really?" You try for a smile, not wanting her to think your sour mood because of her.

"Yep, you want the usual?"

You nodded and stepped up to the counter, "actually can I add a chocolate croissant, too?"

"Sure thing," she rang you up and you sat down near a window to wait. Your fists strained against themselves, anger had racked your brain this morning. It was all you could think about, how you'd kill the people that hurt your sister, that could even think it okay–

You heard your name being called as the door to the coffee shop rung, you glanced up to see an odd looking abominable-Spencer, you snorted, "are you okay? What are you wearing?"

He approached you, his eyebrows scrunching in confusion as he shrugged off the giant, apparently rain- repellent coat, "it's a puffer jacket."

You smiled slightly, one of the realest smiles you've had since the kidnapping. "Did your team find something?" You asked as he placed the jacket on the chair across from you and sat down. You'd assumed so, since he had been the one to email you this morning during your fist class. The fog had cleared away, so you walked instead of driving, leading to regret as soon as you reached your destination, when the rain began to pour.

"Yes, actually," he nodded, "my...they found the drop off, where the gils were being held. You would have perked up if you didn't know what the look on his face meant.

"You didn't find her," you amended, an aching sadness falling over you. You thought it might have been because you'd spent all this time looking for her, trying to prove she wasn't a runaway, and you were so close. Even though you knew the probability of finding her was slim to none, you couldn't give up, your heart and mind wouldn't let you, as long as she lived, and she was alive, you'd never stop looking.

"They're interrogating a few of the..." he cleared his throat, noting the glistening of your wet cheeks. "They, they're also going over what the victims remember, hoping it'll give them some clue as to where...uh, the others were taken."

You gulp, nodding. For a second, you felt an urge to say her name, to tell him, but that wouldn't be fair, "thank you, for everything, Spencer."

"Of course," he frowned, without thinking his hand shot out and lifted your face, eyes darting over you, he was analyzing you.

Your lip quirked, "are you profiling me right now?"

His mouth hung ajar for a moment, eyes searching, then, "no, I've already done that."

You nod, "right, last night, you know my favorite book."

"That's not what I meant," he sighed, then, as if just no realizing, dropped your face so abruptly, you had to catch it. He leaned back, then stood, "I'm...gonna go order."

You nodded, your mind racing with the thoughts of your sister. How you just wanted to hold her hand one last time, press her against you, and tell her how sorry you were. That you didn't mean it, any of it. You had no idea where she'd gone after she'd left your apartment, she had just left.

The fight was stupid, it could have been avoided completely if you'd just been a little more understanding. You hated yourself for that, how could you be so selfish, it was just one person! It wasn't even a boy, it was her friend. Your reasoning may have been a little justified, but just because you didn't know this girl–your brain stopped. Your head shot up and you wiped your tears, waiting eagerly as Spencer sat back down.

"What?" He furrowed his brows, "what did you remember."

Damn him and his profiling skills, "there was a girl, that day, my sister and I had got into a fight, we have our own apartments, but mine's closer to campus, so when she's tired she'll usually crash at mine, sometimes with friends. I only had two rules for that, one there could be no more than 2 of her friends, and that I had to know them. But I didn't know her, and that's why we got into a fight." You take a breath as you ramble out all this information, "I'd thought it was strange, I even told the cops, but they brushed it off–she–she would have never done that. She never broke my rules, that's why I was so annoyed–" you murmur, "H, her name started something with an H, I think," then you remembered.

You told Spencer her name and he had his skilled teammate, Garcia, run that name through the universities system. Of course there were multiple, so you began trying to recall things that stood out.

"Got her," came the reply, "running background check, Rossi's on the other line, brb my sunshine," a click and the call was disconnected.

You stared in awe at the phone on the table, and then you grinned, you lifted your face and was met with an equally proud expression. Your order was called soon after and you stood to grab it. As you passed Spencer his arm shot out and halted you, you looked down at him questioningly, he opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and let you go, "it's nothing."

You nodded, a little nervously. You suppressed the butterflies in your stomach, this could only end one way, he was comfortable with you, he was helping you find your sister, the entire reason you'd began auditing his class. You had told him it wasn't for him and it wasn't, but what would be the point if now...

No, you would find your sister and cease contact with him, that'd b how this ended. I'm his superman, you thought, cringing slightly, and unfortunately I only have one weakness.

They'd did it, they'd found your sister. She was being rushed to the hospital and you and your parents were doing your best to contain your relief. You couldn't help but yell at them. "I told you so, I told you!"

You had emailed Spencer the good news, though he'd probably already knew. You emailed on sing your personal emails, seeing as the university monitored the ones on canvas.

The rush of excitement and thrill was frightening. The bags under your eyes would now disappear and you could sleep again without having nightmares.

"Where is she?" You all but screeched at the receptionist, your parents took assertion, and you let them. It was evident, even to you that you were not in the right state of mind, nor were you physically great. It had taken them four days. Four days to find your sister, all this time you were out searching, it felt like a waste of time.

You couldn't face her, you took a step back, terrified of her reaction. As your parents rushed to the elevators, you stayed where you stood. You ignored their calls to you, you face unreadable in their eyes. As the elevator door shut, your took a shuddering breath. The hospital was full, which didn't seem unusual for the staff, but it was too loud for you.

Too loud, you wanted to scream, and cry, and break down, but you didn't deserve that. Not after all your sister went through.

"Hey, hey, hey," calm and gentle, his voice tugged at you like a life raft. You turned as and soon as you met his eyes the tears fell, you let out a loud wale as he wrapped you in his arms.

"She was–over two months!"

"Shh, shh," he rubbed your back and cradled your neck, you buried your face into his shoulder, "hey, it's not your fault," his voice went high for a second and then lowered again. You heart boomed in your chest–you loved that about him. The uncertainty in his voice, the way he didn't know if what he said was going to make the situation better or worse. In the single four days you had known him on a more personal level, he had grown and grown like a weed.

His presence made everything just a little bit bearable. Why, you didn't know, but you could not do this to him. You could not be the person he comforted on a daily basis because that's just what he expected of you, why he was weary and displeased with you in the first place. You could not feel this way about him, especially because it was almost mad–again you hadn't known his name more than three days.

"What did you mean?" You asked suddenly, pulling away, "when you said you had profiled me before?"

He pressed his lips together and used his thumb to wipe the tears that kept streaming down your cheek, the lights in the hospital seemed to dim and the nose seemed to filter out, "it's nothing, it doesn't matter now."

"It matters to me," you pressed, and then you thought his eyes held warning and you hated yourself all over again. "Right," you unlatched yourself from him, feeling caught it a lie, "I, I should go. Thank you for," you chuckled out a cry, but not for your sister, for you stupidity, and possibly the lost of your just formed friendship, "my families waiting."

He nodded and took–what seemed to you a bigger than necessary–step back. "See you later, then, superman."

You stifled a new set of tears and forced a smile to your face, and turned around, your face instantly falling. You stepped into the elevator, hyper aware of his eyes still watching you. You clicked the button, any button, just fo the door to shut and kept your head down, and when the doors closed, you fell to the floor, wrapping your arms around yourself.

A few floors later, you found your sisters and your parents. She was in bad shape, she had bruises all over her body, you watched your parents stand over her bed, trying to talk with her. It was okay at first, until the doctors brought out a rape kit, you just...you couldn't watch that. You needed air, you headed back toward the the elevator, your eyes rimmed red with crying and dark with the lack of sleep.

When you the elevator opened on the first floor, you kept your head down and your arms wrapped tightly around you, you walked swiftly toward the exist, too wrapped in your emotions to notice the person following you.

Once outside, you headed toward the side, where a small playground sat. You didn't know if you wanted children or not yet, or maybe you did want them, you couldn't think straight. The darkened playground comforted you. You found yourself coming face to face with a rock wall. Not too tall, but challenging enough for 10 year olds. You smiled to yourself and climbed until you reached the top, which was pretty disappointing, but it got you off the ground.

"I hope you're not thinking of jumping," his voice startled you, what was he doing here?

"Didn't you go home?" You questioned, you calfs coming face to face with the top of his head.

"I thought about it," he admits, his hand running along the wall, stopping as it finds one to grip, "but then I remembered," he hauled himself upward, "a friend I made just recently," he grunts as he pulls himself upward one final time, leaving a small space between you, "likes to watch the rain."

"What?" You your voice quivered as the word floated from your lips, but you were smiling...slightly.

He cleared is throat and held out his wrist, "one...two..."

You cleared your throat, trying to make is a bit firmer, "why are you counting–"

There, just the tiniest drop of water fell into you eye, you wiped it away, turning to him with widened eyes, "why didn't you stop me?"

You brace your hands against the rock to jump off, but Spencer stops you, grabbing you wrist, he called your name once and you made the mistake of looking into the big, brown, puppy dog eyes.

Soaked were you a few second later, Spencer too, though you weren't sure if that made up for it. There were no stars, clouds blocked them from your view. You smacked him on his chest shouting through the rain, "what the hell, Spencer?!"

"Technically, Hell is considered insanely hot by many of its believers!" He replies, earning another smack, this time to the shoulder, a laughing fit entangles the both of you as the rain fell around you and after a moment of absolute madness, you caught his eyes and you wondered if this meant what you thought it meant–what you couldn't stop your heart from hoping this meant.

"Thank you," you shouted once more, finding the courage to lean against him. It was odd, the colder you physically got, the warmer your mentally grew.

"Anytime, superman," he brushed strands of wet hair out of your face and you knew, you just knew what you felt, but it's not real, not to him. You were superman and Achilles said it best, "They never let you be famous and happy," and you knew how that story ended.

The weather seemed to ease up this morning, you were happy, two weeks had gone by and your sister was back at home in time to celebrate her birthday. You stopped auditing classes and seminar's, but you still found reasons to email Spencer. Yeah, you still emailed him, if he wanted you to have his number, he'd give it to you or ask for yours–besides, yo9u had grown fond of this way of communication, leaving everyone off with sincerely yours, superman.

He didn't seem to mind and alway replied instantly, he had become one of your closest friends, which awkwardly wasn't hard because–as he had stated previously, you preferred your alone time, which was a nicer way to say you didn't have many friends, but you didn't mind at all.

"Are you texting him?" Came your sister's question as she hopped next to you, wrapping an arm around you, leaning over your shoulder to get a better look at your screen.

"God–no," you grinned, standing up, pulling the phone out of her reach. "And it's emailing," you grumbled, heading into the kitchen.

"Emailing," she widened her eyes, following you to your kitchen, "honestly, I don't why you bother."

"He's more comfortable this way."

She took a sip of orange juice, nodding, "mm, right," she set the glass down, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed, "because he's the hot professor girls were swooning over."

"It was harassment," you pointed out.

"Oh, right," she nodded, "and you just happen to come into his life at the perfect time." She put a hand over her forehead, "my savior, my superman." She giggle as you through a jolly rancher at her.

She dodged, "ow hey–those things hurt!"

You snorted, "mmhm."

"Ssss," she hissed holding her side.

Your rushed to her, worried eyes raking up and down her body to find the cause, "hey, are you sure you're fine? We don't have to go out tonight, like I said, Mom and Dad don't think it's a good idea either."

"H-hey," she laughed, but it was pained; you helped her get to her feet again, brushing a lock behind her face, "come one, I've been through hell and back, that basically means I'm invincible now."

You frowned, then smiled softly when she met your eyes, "okay, okay fine. But the second you seem off, we're coming home."

She nodded, "it's just an arcade, what worse could possibly happen that hasn't happened already?"

You frowned, glancing away, and bracing your wrists against the kitchen counter, "if you say so..."

She ran to your room and began picking out outfits, a few of her friends were meeting you at the arcade. You were kind of there to keep an eye on her, you still hadn't apologized for kicking her out that day with the girl–that witch. Too many times did you have dreams about wrapping you hands around her neck and squeezing until there was nothing left but dust.

You vowed to have Spencer have his tech genius friend, Garcia, run backgrounds on all of her friends moving forward. No one was safe anymore. Of course, you kept that bit to yourself.

"Come on, we're going to be late!" Your sister grabbed your arm, tugging you toward the front door, for a moment, your mind took you back to the day in the coffee shop around three weeks ago, when Spencer had grabbed your arm, he'd looked like he wanted to say something, and that was the first moment you realized you might've had a crush on him.

You frowned, feeling bitter about it. It was a shitty thing, a shitty thing for you to do, but you supposed you could not exactly control your emotions like you'd wished.

The day was clear and so far, the night was too, three of your sister's friends, ones you knew well and had more than once crashed at your apartment before, had met up with the two of you.

They headed into the arcade, getting halted do to a line. They pouted and poked fun at each other for almost running into a few children. It was a good time so far, and you were having fun, if not for you sake, for your sister's all the more, but there was an ache. Something was missing and you could feel it.

"You know," your sister fell back, letting the entrance to the arcade go, "he told me everything." You jolted, your gaze jerked watching her saddened expression. She watched the concrete, "you never stopped trying to find me," she lifted her gaze then, eyes sparking and frown flipping, "I guess he thought I should know because he probably knew you'd be too scared to tell me yourself."

Was she talking about Spencer? You couldn't breath, of course she was, who the hell else was there?

"Thank you," your heart melted at her words and tears sprang in your eyes, "and I forgive you, so don't worry about it. Besides, you're not the only one to blame." She threw her head back and snorted at herself, "I broke a rule, you've had them since the beginning. So don't be too hard on yourself okay?"

Her eyes caught on something behind you and her face lit up, "Spencer! Hey, glad you could make it."

He huffed, glancing down at you while you stared up at him in complete awe. "Magician," you murmured, his gaze settling on you for a second, "no, it's just me." He turned back to your sister, mouthing a 'thank you', then, "and happy 24th birthday."

"I should be thanking you, this way, she won't be analyzing everything I do."

The threw her head back and laughed, then slide through the door and found her friends in line again.

"Spencer?" You raised a brow, a half chuckle leaving your mouth, "what are you doing here?"

"Well," he stuffs his hands in his pockets, "I have...skilled teammates..." came his response.

"And that includes my sister?"

"No, no," he waved off, "I just was able to get her number." You raised a brow and he held his hands up. "After speaking with her in person–I thought she should know how much you cared–she invited me," he threw his hands up slightly, "here."

You connected the dots easily, this must have been after you'd told her about the people that found her, after you had told her a little more about the rude turned friend professor. Your cheeks burned, though the darkness hid it. As much as you loved and wanted to be around him constantly, it also hurt you, and you hated being around him because you knew, you knew you couldn't feel this way about him.

Except you did and you were bad at hiding it.

"What's that?" He sniffed at the air, turning around and walking toward the edge of the sidewalk, where concrete met blacktop, "it's...rain."

You threw your head back and groaned, "you're kidding."

"Nope," he laughed, holding out his hand where trickles began to fall.

"I have got to have the absolute worst luck," you huffed, smacking your hands to your cheeks.

"That," Spencer said, stepping in front of you, "or," he palmed your hands, pulling them away from your face, eye tracing every line–

"Please don't tell me your'e about to say something sappy." You cringed, then popped open one eye when he stayed silent.

He was huffing, trying to hold in his laughter, "no, no I'm just gonna," he leaned in, hands finding your face, and he kissed you. You'd thought about what it would be like and a few times you even caught yourself day dreaming about it, he smelled like coffee and rain, just how you preferred, and this was real.

Every part of you on fire, despite the wind that started pulling at the trees. Rain poured over you and you jolted, screeching, "no!"

Spencer laughed at you trying to pull him to safety, "what-what? Why?"

"Not this time," you grinned up at him.

"But–but that was the best part," he whined playfully, jabbing a thumb behind his shoulder, still letting you pull him by his hand under the roof of the arcade sidewalk. "I–I thought you loved the rain?" His voice went high, the low again, the way it always did when he was joking or nervous.

"I love watching the rain, I don't like to be in the rain." You corrected.

"But I love being rained on with you," he murmured, tilting his head; his big brown puppy dog eyes shining with affection.

"Maybe next time, Doctor," you huffed a laugh and he held the door open, and you stepped a small spin to walk in, using his arm as a dome.

a/n: (please let me know if there are any grammatical errors) I am so sorry I honestly did not mean for it to be this long when I thought of the idea, but when I began writing, I realized it would be way longer than I intended and actually is now my longest fic I have ever written. I hope you loved reading it as much as I loved writing it <3

[colfy-wolfy]

If I wrote a fic about the aftermath of Surv and Monk's family losing two pups at the same moment, would you guys read it?

it'll be filled with a bunch of my headcanons about them and I promise I'll make it interesting story-wise.

happy ending? depends on how generous i am. it'll probably only be a few chaps long. simply for fun!!

[mkunart]

💧Sebastian vibes 🌧️

I hope you have a nice day! 😊♥️

Artwork by: @mkunart

[tiredfox64]

Hello! How you doing? I hope you're having a great day :D

I have a small request based on a funny picture I saw on twitter, where reader asks their crush/lover "Do you like sleeping?" and they're like "...yes?" then reader says "Wow, me too... We should try it together sometime"

I just can't choose which mk1 character, since I love all of them lmao. So I'll leave that up to you! Can be with anyone, sfw or not! your pick :p

Nap Time?

Yip notes: Hello! I’m doing alright, hope you are doing lovely （＾∇＾). This seems like such a fun idea. And you are letting me pick! Got me squealing.

Pairings: Tomas, Havik, Rain, Reiko x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️:NSFW, choking, biting, overstimulation (a bit), many positions

Tomas

Why would you ever trust Johnny to give you good advice? Trusting Johnny is a gamble, especially when you ask him for dating advice.

You were unsure of how to flirt with someone so you had to ask Johnny for help. And the help he gave you…was in the form of memes from Instagram and Twitter. He swore to you up and down that this would work on Tomas. You believed him, just like that?

So you tried it out. It might kill you to try to flirt but at least you made an effort to do so. You were a little nervous as you approached Tomas who was supervising the initiates. Immediately when he saw you he broke out into a smile. Your heart was going crazy from just looking at him. You didn’t realize the loving look in his eyes every time he stared at you. You two had a casual conversation for a bit, just the usual. You took a deep breath and tried remembering which pickup line you would use on Tomas. Something that will capture his attention but won’t be too forward.

“So…uh…do you like sleeping?” you asked.

He looked at you, his eyebrow cocked up in confusion, “…yes?”

“Wow, me too…we should try it together sometime.”

That was too forward girl! I thought you would be better than me.

You put your head down in shame before quickly walking off. A walk of shame if you will. That meant however that you missed Tomas’ reaction to your flirting. It was super effective! He knew what you meant because Johnny told him before. Thanks, Johnny. He went from his usual pale self to a shade of pink that only a rose could replicate. You’re just gonna leave him like that? All flustered like you didn’t just ask him to sleep with you. He didn’t know you felt that way about him.

You left him in an uncomfortable position. He couldn’t go find you because he had to supervise the initiates. But he was also trying to keep his composure and not think too much about being in bed with you. He can’t think about how his hands would be all over you, feeling your soft skin as his body is pressed against yours. Ah, too late he’s hard just from that. Pathetic. Better hide that.

The moment the initiates were done training he went looking for you. You were in your room, groaning into your pillows from the embarrassment you still were feeling. You thought this memory would haunt you forever. Oh how wrong you were.

Tomas was knocking on your door, still trying his best to keep his composure. You got up and opened the door. Before you could try to apologize for what you said he asked you something.

“Were you being serious? Please tell me you were being serious.” He said in desperation.

You were shocked. The pickup line worked? And he wanted you to be serious? Alright, ain’t you a winner.

You nodded your head and that’s all Tomas needed. He pushed his way into your room and only then did you notice his boner. It’s really hard to hide it with the uniform he has on. Well, go on, fix it. You started the war you better finish it. Get in bed! Scratch that, he will carry you to bed.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Your groans of embarrassment soon became groans of pleasure. And pants. And moans. And whimpers. Everything actually.

The pickup line sure did work. It got Tomas into bed with you, naked and desperate to pleasure himself with your body. You heard him groan and whimper every time he thrusted into you. He had you on your side with his chest pressed against your back and his hand on your thigh. He held your right leg up to have easier access to your pussy. His other arm was wrapped around your neck. He wasn’t choking you but holding you in place. He could choke you if that’s what you want.

You had no idea how long you guys were at it. It was like one second he was carrying you to your bed, the next he was ripping your clothes off, and now he had his dick inside of you. The dick must be good considering you were drooling in seconds and could only focus on how much he was stretching you out.

Don’t count yourself short because Tomas is just as dazed as you. Your pussy was as warm and tight as he imagined. When he first slid his cock in he let out a satisfied sigh, like he was relieved to feel your pussy squeezing him. The passion he was putting into each thrust was phenomenal. It’s like he was trying to fuck his love into you. That love sure was hitting your g-spot and making your moans go up a pitch. Soon your leg was shaking and you were telling him not to stop. He wasn’t planning on it. Tomas was as close as you were.

That pleasure was becoming greater and you both couldn’t handle it. One more deep thrust into you and you both were finished. You heard Tomas let out whimpers and moans as he came inside you. He was still thrusting a little which pushed the cum further into you. You would have been moaning as well if it weren’t for the fact that Tomas started choking you with his arm. You were not complaining. The lack of oxygen with your orgasm was the best feeling you have ever had. You could have sworn that the heavens opened and you were looking at the angels who looked down at you and asked ‘Is he gonna put a ring on it?’ Tomas better put a ring on it because you don’t ever want him leaving your side. Neither does he.

Tomas finally let you breathe once he realized he was choking you which you thanked him for doing. Like the gentleman he is he checked and asked if he hurt you anywhere. You told him to not worry and that you were fine. Once that was over he pulled you close to him and gave you kisses all over your face. He could stay here for hours with you so he could cuddle and kiss you. That lovemaking session sure did a number on you guys. It tired you out that you were soon falling asleep in his arms.

Looks like you slept with Tomas in both ways.

Havik

You’re trying to flirt with Havik? Right…how well do you think that will go for you?

Havik is not an idiot but some things go flying over his head. Using unfamiliar terms might not hit the mark. You have to be blunt essentially. But it’s hard to be blunt about wanting Havik to be your partner and asking to have sex with him. Whoever could do that is a maniac or just extremely bold. That’s not you. So the best you could do is flirt and hope it hits the mark.

You approached him as he was in the middle of looking at weapons. That mace is looking really nice to him. Whatever, you’re there now and you seem to be asking for his attention. Not literally, you were actually staring up at him until he noticed your presence.

“What?” He asked.

“I have a question for you.” You replied in a shy tone.

He fully turned his attention towards you, curious as to what you had to say considering you never got this shy before.

“So…uh…do you like sleeping?”

“…yes, why do you ask?” Don’t fuck with him. Havik has no clue what you are getting at.

“Wow, me too…we should try it together sometime.”

There was a silence that followed. A long, uncomfortable silence followed as he stared at you. His head tilted to the side a little to indicate his confusion. This might have been a failure on your part. What were you thinking? You turned around to walk away only to be grabbed by the back of your shirt by Havik. He pulled you back and held you up by your shirt. You can’t walk away after saying something so confusing to him.

“What does that even mean?” Havik interrogated you.

You didn’t want to answer him. This situation was already incredibly embarrassing for you and it doesn’t help that he wanted you to explain it to him. You begged him to forget what you said and put you down already. Havik was not gonna listen, even you knew that. He wouldn’t let you down until you told him what you meant. In a moment of chaos and stress you blurted out the truth.

“I want to have sex with you!”

I mean I would have lied but good on you for being truthful.

There was silence once more. You watched as Havik squinted his eyes. You were unsure of what he was doing until you heard him let out a dark chuckle. If his face weren’t mutilated you would be able to see that he was smiling. But since he has a permanent smile on his face it probably works out.

“Why didn’t you say so? We could do that right now.” He said with pure delight. Get to it!

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You knew Havik was a freak but you didn’t expect him to be this freaky. Who would have thought that the first position he would pick to do you in was the mating press.

Eight inches slamming into you, damn! Of course, he was going rough. He pushed your legs back as far as they could go so he could go as deep as he could. You were already crying and panting in the first few minutes. He made sure you kept looking up at him. He wanted to see every expression you made and watch every tear slip down your face. Watching your eyes roll back every time he slammed into your g-spot made him want to devour you even more.

Havik was beyond reason. His mind was only on one thing and that was fucking your pussy. You had to stay exactly how he wanted to. Every time you tried to look away from him he grabbed your face and forced you to look at him again. He wouldn’t let go until he got a nice reaction out of you.

“Aww, what a pretty face. I wonder what face you will make when I do this?”

You felt his hand wrap around your throat. Your eyes widened as you stared up at him. The excitement in his eyes was apparent. He squeezed tighter and went rougher. With the position you were in combined with everything else he was doing; it was no shock that you ended up cumming. Strained moans left your mouth as your eyes rolled back. Drool and tears were slipping down your face. Your hands could not take Havik’s hand away from your throat. You were forced to cum on his cock as he choked the life out of you. Sounds started to grow duller but the orgasm you felt was heightened. Every stroke was felt, his dick was hitting every spot down there. You could not ignore the painful pleasure you felt. And when it seemed like you were about to pass out, he let go.

You were trying to catch your breath but it was difficult since he was still fucking you. You were catching your breath in between moans and pants that were hoarse from being choked. Luckily for you, he was close. One, two, three more thrusts and he was golden. He slammed so hard and deep inside you that you could have sworn that he hit your cervix. Havik let out this loud groan that seemed to drag out. His tongue stuck out, causing some of his saliva to drip down onto you. Oh, he was satisfied alright.

Once his little moment of nature’s pleasure was over he pulled out and immediately collapsed onto you. He wrapped his arms around your waist. Tonight, you will be his pillow. You have no choice he is too big to move. Plus he wants to stay in this position with you. You are his girlfriend now. You both had sex that’s how it goes, at least in his head that’s how it works. You heard him lightly snore away. You were happy with the outcome of your pickup line. It worked incredibly well. You slowly started to fall asleep as you held Havik in your arms.

Be careful he drools in his sleep. Wait, never mind, he’s chewing on your titty in his sleep. That’s a bigger issue. At least he does it lightly.

Rain

Ah, going after the high mage himself. It’s an interesting choice to pick a man who might have never felt the touch of a woman other than his mother.

If only you had his confidence you could be better when it comes to flirting with him. Hiding behind a pillar and watching him do magic does not count as flirting. You can talk to Rain but if you try to suggest something or flirt you freeze up. He’ll ask you if you’re alright, you’ll lie and say you’re fine before walking off, and the cycle repeats.

But maybe this time will be different. When the tournament was going on you heard in the background one of the Earthrealmers, probably Johnny, using a certain pickup line on Kitana. It seemed to work since it got a laugh out of her. So it has to work for you, right? You could only hope that this man will get it.

The next time you saw him you ran up to him with a smile on your face. Rain was delighted to see you again. You always manage to make him feel warm on the inside. You get him thinking about you instead of his studies or his duties. You’ll most likely do the same right now. The conversation is going well and you’ve made him smile. Go in for the kill!

“So…uh…do you like sleeping?” you asked awkwardly.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “…yes? I would imagine everyone does.”

“Wow, me too…we should try it together sometime.”

The silence was loud.

“You have your own bed, why would you need to sleep together?”

For a smartass he sure can be a dumbass.

You were beyond crushed. Just like usual you froze up. You didn’t give Rain a chance to ask if you were okay, you walked off quickly. You left him standing there, confused and unsure if he did anything wrong.

The rest of the day went on. You stayed hidden in your room after that embarrassing fail. Rain consulted with Mileena and Kitana about what just happened. He went on and on about how he didn’t understand what you meant. He was confused about why you wanted to sleep in his bed. When Kitana asked exactly what you said Rain relayed the pickup line. In a matter of seconds, Kitana and Mileena’s faces changed. They knew what you meant. Rain saw the look they were giving him and asked what was wrong now.

“Rain,” Kitana started, “She was flirting with you.”

“She was asking to sleep with you. You know…” Mileena made the gesture with her fingers that indicated what she meant.

Computing…computing…loading…load-SEX! YOU MEANT SEX!

“By Argus, why didn’t she just say that!?” Because that’s not casual, Rain.

Rain booked it out of there, almost forgetting his water staff in the process. He was at your door in minutes. He kept banging on it with little regard for his hand. You groaned as you picked your head up from your bed. You quickly opened the door thinking there was an emergency.

“Be more direct next time.” Rain said as he pushed his way into your bedroom.

Shall we begin the party?

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

He can be an idiot at times he will admit that. Let him make it up by taking care of you.

You were facing Rain as he had you on his lap. He thrusted into you mindlessly while his mouth was occupied with your nipple. Everything about you was soft to him. He couldn’t get enough of your skin. His hands wandered all over before wrapping his arms around your waist. Occasionally his hands would move down just to get a handful of your ass. It’s too tempting how could he not squeeze it.

Your breasts were doing wonders for this man. The moment he saw them he pulled you in so he could shove his face in between them. He looked so peaceful as he sucked on your nipple. Your breasts have become his new happy place. Your fingers ran through his hair which made this more pleasurable for him. He doesn’t want this to end.

You sure were enjoying yourself. With the position you were in you were sitting right on seven inches. Seven inches that was going in and out of you at a steady rhythm. Don’t forget the fact that your clit was being rubbed every time he thrusted into you. Hell even when he took a breather and you would start grinding, your clit was getting the attention it needed. You were in a drunken daze, whimpering and pants with each thrust. It felt like his cock was reaching into your stomach. Every time he hit your g-spot you would twitch and bring his face closer to your breasts. You’re suffocating the poor man but he loves it.

Why Rain is so good at this is a mystery. A mystery you don’t care to solve you are happy with living in this cock drunken state.

This party must come to an end. You both had your fun and you couldn’t hold back your orgasm. You felt Rain’s cock twitch inside you, letting you know he was close. You made him look up at you. You saw how his eyes twinkled when he stared up at you. That look encouraged you to start kissing him passionately as the orgasm hit you both. Hot strings of cum shot into you as your pussy clenched around his cock. Both your moans were being muffled by the kiss luckily.

He held you in his arms for a while as your both caught your breath. You got off his lap and immediately collapsed onto your bed. Rain quickly came to your side and brought you in close. He had your head resting on his chest, allowing you to listen to his heartbeat. His heart was beating for you.  

What a romantic evening.  

Reiko

Going after a man who only knows war? You’re just brave at this point.

This has to be easy, right? Not many ladies are brave enough to ask out any Outworld soldier, let alone the lieutenant himself. The girls who were brave enough to ask Reiko out were either turned down or he didn’t understand what they were doing. The fact is there are no other ladies trying to go after your man. They see it as a losing game while you see it as a challenge.

You spotted him out on the training grounds with other soldiers. You ran nearby and watching from a distance as he took down his fellow soldiers. Once Reiko noticed that you were there you waved him over. He told everyone to take a quick break as he walked over to you. Once he was right in front of you he questioned why you were around and why you seemed to be waiting for him. You told him you had a question for him.

“So…uh…do you like sleeping?” you said with some confidence.

“…yes? Sleep is important to a man like me.”

“Wow, me too…we should try it sometimes.” You finished with less confidence.

“You don’t want to sleep with me.”

“Oh…” You were quiet for a bit before deciding to walk off.

His skull is too thick I fear.

Reiko stared at you before turning around. His soldiers looked at him like he was crazy. He asked them what they were looking at. They started yelling at him that he fumbled so hard. They asked if he really didn’t want to have sex with a pretty lady like you. They said Reiko was so lucky to be flirted with by you.

“Sex? She didn’t ask to have sex with me. She asked to sleep with me.” He replied.

“It’s the same thing!” They yelled back in unison.

“That’s just stupid! If she just said sex I would have said yes!” Too late, idiot!

Reiko was upset by everyone and everything. He decided to visit you once he was done training with the other soldiers. He found your home and like the weird brute he is, he climbed up to your window. You heard tapping at your window as you were getting ready for bed. You were surprised to see Reiko at your windowsill. You opened the window immediately to let him in.

“Is it really that difficult to ask for sex?” For a man like him, probably not.

You don’t need to do much to get Reiko started, your nightgown was doing the work for you.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Oo look how strong Reiko is. Holding you up as he fucks you against the wall, show off.

He needed to show you how much of a man he was. He’s an idiot, not a heathen who doesn’t need sex. Everyone needs a little bit of fun.

His lips were attacking your lips in a rough kiss as his body pinned your body against your bedroom wall. He held onto your legs and kept them wide open as he thrusted into you. His thrusts were angled a little to allow him to rub against your clit. When it comes to sex, Reiko gives it his all. He never wants to lack. So he’s gonna make sure this will be a night you remember.

You sure will remember. Your pussy will definitely remember and crave his cock again. You will remember how its curved shape was a glorious feeling. Combined with his thick size you won’t be needing any other man. He stretched you out that the pain was pleasurable.

Reiko is a rough lover in general so his thrusts were just as rough. All you can hear is the sound of skin slapping, wet sounds, and heavy breathing. You felt his teeth lightly biting down on your lower lip. He didn’t want to ruin your perfect lip so he moved down to your neck. His teeth sank into your soft skin, littering it with marks. Bite marks were appearing all over your neck and shoulders. Each time he marked you his tongue would run over the mark he just made.

“You’re going to look so pretty when I’m done with you. Can’t wait to see everyone’s reactions when they see that you’re my lady now.” He is such a cocky bastard.

You were loopy but were on cloud nine. The pain and pleasure were a devious combination. It’s a high. A high you could only get from Reiko. He is your drug that leaves evidence of his effects on you.

Highs have to end eventually. You started panting fast as you got closer to cumming. Reiko watched your face as he went faster. Your head went back against the wall while your eyes began to shut tight. Your lovely moans came flowing out of your mouth and into Reiko’s ears. He thought the only noise he ever liked was the sound of his enemies dying. But it seems like you’ve proven him wrong.

Your body went somewhat limp but he still held you up. He’s not done yet. He was still pounding away, feeling how your pussy grew wetting to the point it was dripping. He made you stare up at him as he kept fucking you. He wanted to watch you lose yourself more from this. The sight of your eyes growing wet from being overstimulated was delicious to him. It was enough to send him over the edge. You saw the satisfied smile on his face as his cum filled up your pussy. He was trying to shove it as deep as he could like he was trying to mark you even more.

He held you in his arms as he pulled out. His cum was dripping out of you and onto the floor. Whatever, you guys can clean it up in the morning. You both need rest after that rough session. He placed you lightly on the bed before getting in himself. He laid on his back with one arm behind his head and the other wrapped around your body. Reiko was a satisfied man. What would make him even more satisfied was if you asked to be his girlfriend. You need to be blunt when you ask that one.

Give this man a cigarette he is giving off that energy.

Yap notes: WOO DOGGY THAT WAS A LOT. Had to put my mind into it. Thank you for letting me pick I’m glad to do more of my favorite/ underrated men! It was enjoyable to write. Now I need a nap. Adiós!

[sscream4me]

Silence in the rain

› 𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗰 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

› 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 : Trying to flee after the rush of people, you run into a boy who doesn't seem to want to stop following you after helping him.

› 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 : I watched this movie yesterday and as a fan of Joseph Quinn, I simply fell in love with Eric, I need more of him. + English is not my first language, sorry if there are any mistakes 😿

› 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 : 2.7k

The large and loud raindrops fell with no intention of stopping. Minutes earlier, the helicopters had asked us to move to the water's edge, supposedly to be rescued, but it seemed everything went wrong. The creatures emerged from their hiding places and attacked us. The brief moment of calm vanished in less than five seconds. People were screaming and running in all directions. To be honest, I doubted we would get out of here.

I hid under a car, waiting for whoever was still around to leave. Carefully, I started to emerge from my hiding place, praying that I wouldn't make any loud noises and attract those things again.

As soon as I came out, I couldn't help but look at the sky. It had been a long time since I had felt the rain, and despite the circumstances, I still loved it. I decided to walk toward a sheltered place, taking slow and cautious steps while hugging myself. I looked around; not a single human was nearby, only destruction—or so I thought until I saw a white cat with small black spots in front of me. It looked so unreal that I didn't know if I was hallucinating or not, so with some fear, I abandoned my plan to find shelter and approached the cute kitten.

The rain seemed to intensify more and more. I could hear a couple of thunderclaps in the distance, but I still didn't stop following the kitten, which had stayed still in what appeared to be a flooded subway entrance. The little cat turned to look at me, appearing so calm with its big, bright eyes. It then turned back to the water and bent down to drink. I took this opportunity to sit beside it, simply admiring it.

Everything was peaceful—just the kitten and me—until something emerged from the water, startling us. I jumped back, not caring much about the bump I would get, and quickly covered my mouth with my hands to stifle a possible scream. My heart was racing at an impressive speed. I didn't even want to breathe, thinking it might be one of those creatures. But all the fear vanished when I heard what sounded like heavy breathing. Slowly, I removed my hands from my mouth and approached the bars, looking down at the flooded stairs and seeing a boy.

He looked somewhat scared. I couldn't imagine how long he had been underwater. The boy looked at me, tilting his head slightly as if examining me. I frowned, and shortly after, he turned to look at the cat. The little feline was beside me, so he looked at both of us before emerging from the water.

I moved from my spot to help him, extending my hand, hoping he would take it. Though he hesitated at first, he eventually took my hand and accepted my help. Once he was out, I looked around, searching for the cat, but it seemed to have gone. However, I quickly spotted it again; it had moved three or four spots ahead, seemingly heading to an alley.

I dusted off my clothes a bit and started following the cat, but I could hear a pair of "stealthy" footsteps behind me. I knew it was him, so taking advantage of a small café's awning, I stopped and turned around, frowning at him. "Go away," I said in a low voice, to which he just shook his head.

"Why are you following me?" The boy still didn't answer, so with the little patience I had, I moved a bit closer and spoke again, this time a bit louder, "What's your name?" This time, it took him a bit longer to even make a gesture. I waited a bit before he finally spoke in almost the same tone as me, "Eric, my name is Eric."

[rainstts]

F. A: Birthday Wish.ᐟ

random moments of your life being Toji's wife and Megumi's stepmother

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

✰ pairing. Toji Fushiguro x wife!reader

✰ content. MDNI, fem!reader, crack, fluff, reader and Toji already have a 5yo girl (Fuyumi), found family, pregnancy, birthday sėx, pụssydrunk AND making love!Toji (partially), breëding plus pregnancy kınk, creämpıe, praising, talking through it, unprotected, pet names, dırty tālk

✰ word count. 4.9k

✰ A/N. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR GORGEOUS BIG BOY!! And happy new year, sweeties <33

The trip to Kamakura was scheduled months ago, when Satoru offered his house to host the New Year’s party, and, with that in mind, you were able to organize everything you’d need for Toji’s birthday party too. Decorations, cake, candies and salty food, just how he liked. And when the day came, Megumi worked as your partner in that sweet crime, going in Nanami’s car with Nobara and Yuji so Toji wouldn’t see the decorations to be done. 

Only when your stepson confirmed that everything was in its right place and decorated, you stopped holding up and finally handed Toji the last suitcase so you could go. Hiding your anxiety on the road wasn’t easy, nothing passed unseen by his eyes. But, luckily for you, he was distracted this time. 

He was… Jealous?

“I’ll never understand what they see in him. Seriously! Even Yuji was there.”

Ah, yes. Another day, another complaint about how Megumi liked his teacher and family’s friend, Nanami. He was nothing different from Gojo in terms of friendship with the two of you, and yet…

“He’s polite, was always close and helpful with the kids…”

“I see, I see. Praising another man in front of your husband.”

“Toji!” You argued, seeing him rolling his eyes. “Your son can make his own choices. Maybe he just wanted to go earlier to spend more time with his friends.”

“And not with his father? Today is m-” Toji stopped himself, pressing his lips in a line and focusing on the road again. But he noticed your curious gaze, making him sigh softly. “I’m not getting younger, and he’s already fifteen! Three more years and he’ll be leaving for university, with no time for us.”

“He’ll always have time for you.”

“No he won’t. I know how teenagers are.”

“You are hard-headed, just like one.” Your reply made him huff low, hands tightening the grip around the steering wheel. “He loves you, honey. He listens to you, he looks for your advices and guidance. You have no idea how much effort he puts on himself to make you proud.”

With your head turned to him, your eyes captured how your words affected the man. His gaze softened upon the road, his hands relaxed, knuckles turning back to his skin tone, not so white anymore. His right hand moved to your thigh, feeling the fabric of your dress under his digits. With a long breath, he calmed down, and looked at you once he stopped by a red light. 

“We’re lucky to have you. And her.” He motioned to Fuyumi, your younger daughter sleeping on the backseat, and moved closer to give you a quick kiss. You smiled when you felt the scar brushing on your skin softly. 

“It’s mutual.”

Your smile made his shoulders visibly relax, and he moved his attention back to the road after a quick look down at the GPS. The car was yours, and you had the license for years now, but you still loved relaxing beside him, enjoying your passenger princess privileges while looking at his arms when he drove the SUV. 

“Just don’t make me smile to that stupid blon-”

“Toji, be nice. His wife is pregnant.”

Your reply made him click his tongue, controlling himself to not roll his eyes. Again.

“That’s why the kids are with him?”

“I don’t know, but behaving is for free.”

“Not if I pay with my patience.” He sighed, taking the road to the coast, almost getting to the house. “You know…” He started talking again, clearly having some disturbed ideas. “The kids love you. Kugisake always compliments how beautiful you are.”

“Spit it out.”

“We could…” He smiled, not finishing his statement, but you could read right through his eyes.

“I’m not getting pregnant just for you to be the “favorite uncle” again.”

“Come on! It’s not a big deal!”

“Toji! It’s a baby!”

“And? We have Fuyumi, I have experience. Sometimes I even miss how I used to hold Megumi by the neck of his shirt.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!”

“He liked it! That choked laughter was awesome.” He smiled, clearly remembering times in between his grief and the moment he met you. “Come on, think about it, uh? I know the test was negative, but we can always try again. And again. And again…”

“You’re lucky she’s sleeping.” You slapped his arm, making him stop teasing about it, while you looked at the five-year-old girl still deep asleep. 

“Think about it, please? I don’t wanna be the one dragging Shiro and Kuro everywhere while my son is with him.”

“I won’t think about anything.” Rolling your eyes, you looked away, holding your tongue to not tell the truth right then and there. 

The familiar house came into view, the sight of the beach was still heavenly and beautiful, even mid-winter. Toji parked beside Gojo’s car, leaving his seat to open the door for you, and let you wake Fuyumi while taking the dogs out by the other side. 

“Now smile and behave, we can talk about your pregnancy later.” He stated, simply as that.

“What? Toji!”

The front door was opened by Gojo, making you stop talking and walk towards the man after seeing your husband’s cynical smile, the one that never failed in teasing you to the limit. The dogs ran inside after hearing Megumi’s voice, and Fuyumi was right behind. Gojo greeted you and Toji, with him leaving the suitcases by the entrance hall, and letting the white haired sorcerer guide you both inside, towards the living room. 

The curtains were down, the room was silent and dark by the moment you came with him. Until Megumi turned the lights on. 

“Surprise!” 

Toji’s hand tightened the grip on your waist when he heard the voices in unison. He ran his gaze around the room, decorated with balloons in metallic blue and silver, a large table with the cake and sweet treats, and another side with salty food for lunch. The guests had party hats matching the colors, and Gojo handed one to you, which you quickly put on his head, ignoring his stare.

“How did you do that?” He asked, a small smile creeping up at the corner of his lips.

“I’ve had help.” You shrugged, taking the lighter with Shoko and pushing Toji closer to the table. 

His eyes immediately landed on Megumi, knowing the son had a part in it, and the boy just shrugged, just like you, standing by his left when everyone started singing “happy birthday”. Your smile was sincere, and your eyes never left Toji, while his eyes never left the candles, the cake, and every other small detail organized by you. Every new thing that was made just for him.

By the end of the song, more clapping was heard, and you felt the dark-haired man pull you into a kiss, firm and quick, respecting the others around. And, in a sweet and fast movement, he pulled Megumi into a hug, ruffling his hair when he moved away, making the boy laugh. 

“Me too, papa!” Fuyumi yelled, making the others laugh.

Toji then took her on his arm, kissing her cheek and leaning to blow the candle with her help. Closing his eyes and staying silent for a few seconds, it was clear when Toji made a wish, only leaving you curious about what it was.

Even though you felt like you could guess easily.

“Now I understand the whispers around the house.” He commented, eyes narrowed. 

“You didn’t even question it.” Megumi replied in a quiet tone, noticing his father laughing.

After taking a family picture, Satoru, who had been insisting on a speech, quickly started recording when Toji finally seemed to accept. Your gaze let him know that it needed to be a special moment, and he understood.

“Meg,” He called, making the boy raise his head in curiosity. “I’m not used to showing how grateful I am for you being a special and incredible son, the blessing your mother left for me. You overcome the expectations I shouldn’t have, and I’m proud of you, son. Thank you for the surprise.”

Megumi nodded, clearly emotional but covering up with a small smile. But Toji knew. He always knew. Satisfied, he turned to you, his next victim.

“My love… Thank you, for everything, I feel like I’ll never be able to form enough thoughts in this messy head of mine to tell you how much I love you, how you saved me, my girl. And how I’m happy for this precious little gift you gave me.” 

As Toji hugged Fuyumi, she giggled happily, and you felt tears running down with no control while you took in his words, the turmoil of both surprises you kept from him now taking its toll. But definitely a good one. 

The moment ended with a family hug, and Yuji and Nobara helped you to serve the cake as the others gathered around the table to get their lunch. Everyone enjoyed the afternoon with conversations about the expectations for the New Year, engaging topics about family, the kids’ improvements and travels. 

Close to the sunset, the kids decided to play at the beach, in front of the house, and Megumi insisted on taking his sister to give you and Toji free time, with the only advice of “behaving”. It made you laugh, of course, but your husband only shot you a smirk, murmuring a song while you led the way to the guest room you were staying in. 

“How did you find out?” Toji asked when you both stepped into the room, closing the door with a soft click when locked.

“Naobito.” 

Your answer was enough to make him remember the day you gave Maki a ride home. Toji hummed, sitting on the bed and taking his hoodie off, trying to gain courage to take a shower. You walked towards the man, placing your hands on his shoulders and massaging his muscles. 

He breathed out with the touch, a small smile could be seen on his lips before he leaned his head on your abdomen. His left hand moved up from the side of your leg to your stomach, caressing there with his thumb. It wasn’t as flat as it used to be, and he knew it. He had noticed before, and had that sweet feeling in his chest.

“How far along are you?” He asked, voice low, but slowly looked up to meet your eyes. 

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb, mama.” He smirked, both thumbs caressing your warm skin under your belly button. “You can hide the party plans from me, but not your body.”

Staring down into his eyes, you could see his proud smile, hands keeping you in place while his slender thumbs moved around your lower abdomen, silently appreciating the job he had done as his dark eyes caught every little reaction of yours. Your expression and eyes letting clear he had caught you red-handed. 

“I know when my wife is sleeping more, eating more, and throwing up.” He pointed out every little thing he had noticed. Things he didn’t miss on your first pregnancy, and certainly wouldn’t this time. “Ruined the surprise, didn’t I?”

“Yes!” You replied, slapping his shoulder softly, making him chuckle audibly. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

The man smiled widely, his eyes shining against the lights as he continued caressing you softly. Almost a strange touch coming from hands that years ago did such a dangerous job. It was at that moment you decided to take the picture off the inner pocket of your jacket. The movement caught Toji’s attention, gaze moving down to your hands, and back up to meet yours as he breathed in to say something. 

But the words died in his throat when he saw the picture in your hand. 

The usual gray, white and black glitched screen of an ultrasound, with two circles on it. The image made him open his mouth, trying to find words when he got the picture on his hand. The first circle showed a mark named “baby A”, the second one, “baby B”. 

“I- You-” Toji stuttered, blinking forcibly.

This was another level of a surprise. 

“Twins?” He asked, almost gasping for air. 

“Twins, love.”

Toji couldn’t hide his happiness even if he wanted to. The urge to just hold you close and tight made him pull you onto his lap, arms around your waist and shoulders, keeping you close as he felt that pure joy fill his mind and heart. As you finally felt the weight of the secret being taken from your shoulders, happy tears stained your face and his shoulders, and he soothed you with a soft caressing on your back, his warm touch moving up and down until you got a grip on your emotions again. 

“I didn’t know you could… We could…”

“Me neither. It was out of luck.” You smiled, caressing his chin with your right hand, the man leaning into your touch with his eyes focused on the picture. “They’re fraternal.”

“What does that mean? Are they okay? Is this a health issue?”

“No, darling. They’re perfect. They’re just non-identical, not sharing the same placenta.”

“And… And you know if there’s a boy or a girl?”

“No, I’m almost exactly three months in, so… It won’t take long for us to find out.”

“Almost three months and you’re already showing?” He asked, the deep chuckle not fooling you. Toji was proud of what he did. 

“I was huge while carrying Yumi. Need to prepare for the worst this time.”

To your words, Toji placed both hands on your stomach, feeling it once again. But the clothes bothered him, making the raven-haired man lift the fabric of your clothes to touch your skin properly. 

“Then it’s my job to make you feel better.”

His hands carefully moved down to your thighs, gripping as much flesh as he could, marking his digits on your skin easily. That heat, so characteristic from whenever he touched you, increased when you felt your lips on yours, a deep warmth spreading from your chest through your body. Toji’s hands moved to your ass, groaning loud as he slapped with one hand and tightened the grip with the other, taking a muffled moan from your lips in between the intense kiss. 

When he moved his hips up, pressing against yours, the two of you moaned. The feeling of his growing erection pulsing against your core. With a low hum of approval, Toji moved just enough to make you ride him slowly, firm hands pressing your body down against his, teasing you with soft and quick pecks. 

“Toji…” You breathed out, feeling his kisses move to your shoulders now. His large hands gripping your ass and thigh, desperate to feel you. Starving. “Love, I-”

“Don’t stop ridin’, doll.”

His words made you breathe out low, trying to control your voice, thinking about what to say back, unsure if he was actually willing to continue. Not that he never fucked you when you were pregnant previously, quite the opposite. But this wasn’t your house, and Toji usually didn’t like whenever you couldn’t vocalize for him. Moan. Scream his name.

But the way he continued to kiss you was confirmation enough, the man grunting as he pushed his hips against you again, looking for some minimal friction as he moved his hands up to your hips to move you against him again, and back down, squeezing your ass with pleasure.

The touch made you moan audibly for him, hearing the hoarse and deep sound escaping from his throat when he kissed your neck, biting your shoulders in response. Toji quickly took your jacket off, tossing it on the floor along with your shirt, taking his time to stare at  your much swollen breasts and the beautiful black lacy set embracing your skin perfectly. 

“Fuck, mama… Is this new?” Toji asked, black eyes stuck on the drawing of the lingerie on your skin, and how it made your curves look more delineated, the details he so much loved on display like a meal. 

“All for you.” Your voice was sweet, barely louder than a whisper when you leaned closer. “Rip it off.”

He pulled you closer, hooking a finger under the middle of your bra, pulling the lacy down with no second thoughts, ripping the fabric off your skin easily, and having the perfect vision of your breasts. Massaging one, Toji quickly moved to take the other on his mouth, his tongue travelling up and down the soft skin, groaning when your body shivered from the contact. 

Your back was arched for him, both hands on his chest, feeling his skin, and your mouth half open, gasping and moaning only for him to hear. Toji’s hands held your waist tight, changing positions carefully, laying you on the queen-sized bed. As he moved down, kissing your abdomen and hips, his hands moved your pants down, taking in the sight of the wet patch barely visible on your panties, his index finger moving to pull the side and make it snap back against your skin. 

Your body jolted from the impact, the skin soon reddening and his smirk widening at the sight. “So delicate, aren’t you, angel?” 

Desperate for more of his touch, you couldn’t reply, and it only made Toji chuckle more, a soft movement pulling your panties to the side. His tense breath hitting your skin, a soft movement of his hands spreading your legs open for him, exposing your wetness. 

He didn’t waste time, pressing his tongue against your pussy and letting out a rough moan when feeling how hot and sweet you were for him, keeping his eyes closed to enjoy it a while longer. 

“Toji!” You cried when he moved just enough to see your face.

The man laughed slightly at your desperation, passing his muscled arms down your thighs and pulling you closer like that, unable to move. 

“Easy, love.” 

It’s a matter of seconds for him to push his index finger into your slick entrance, sliding in easily, making you choke on your words of hurry and a low moan. Toji then started moving his fingers back and forth, curved up like a hook, hitting that sweet spot that made you squirm so easily. 

The movement made your cunt pulse and tighten around his finger, taking a pleasured moan from him, closing his eyes to enjoy how you were always so responsive. “Feels good, doesn’t it, princess?” His voice had a hint of teasing, the smile on his face proved it. 

“Y-Yes. Toji…”

“Y-Yes.” He mocked, thumb moving up to press against your clit. “I’m listening. What do you want?”

“Your mouth.”

There was no time for more stuttering, not with your husband. Toji wanted you, to celebrate with you for what he had done, and anything you asked, he would give. His tongue quickly met your pussy again, savoring you with need, with the desire he had kept in, not minding being rough when liking and sucking your wet folds and your already sensitive clit. 

Your body shuddered entirely with the feeling, his fingers getting more wet as he added another one to fulfill your pleasure, and the sound explicit and wet echoing in the room against the silence, his hand hitting your entrance while he took his sweet time on your spot.

“Mhn- Toj-i! Fuck, don’t stop!”

He didn’t dare. Not this time. Toji kept on sucking your clit with strength, licking your wetness clean as his fingers pushed in and out. You could already feel that pressure on your lower abdomen, flowing down your legs in waves, and back to your pussy in his mouth.

Until the tension on your body imploded, and you relaxed all at once, your orgasm hitting you, leaving you still in bed. Left hand in the middle of his dark hair, and the right pulling the sheets, using the grip to control your voice. Your husband wasn’t akin to share your pretty sounds with the other guests. 

Breathless, you moaned when Toji moved away, taking his fingers off you and sucking them, tasting more of you, addicted.  Only then he took his time taking his pants off, teasing you and giving you a little show, knowing how much you loved every sight of his muscles. And only got better when he got rid of his boxers.

“Keep ‘em open f’me, love.” He said, coming back to bed, right above your body, when you tried to close your legs. 

His hands moving around his aching cock, masturbating in soft motions while watching you under him, possessive, and clearly pleased that you were already showing off now two more of his offsprings. 

The vision of his large body shivering and slightly shaking with pleasure made you breathe out low and touch your thighs, gripping your flesh to control yourself. Toji’s hands met your hips, keeping you still for him again, before he pressed your thighs down, the obscene mating press making him growl.

“We’re going slow, for now.” He spoke up, teasing you while brushing the red tip against your wet cunt. “I’m gonna appreciate my sweet, little wife. Only when you cum around me, I’ll fuck you senseless. Deal?”

“Deal.”

His voice was clouding your mind, barely letting you notice how much he was holding back for your sake, and could only go back to your senses when you felt him moving your chin to face him properly. With his left hand, Toji massaged your clit, increasing the pleasure you felt when he pushed all his girth inside slowly, opening your wet folds around him. Feeling you pulsing, your husband knew you were ready for him, already shaped for his size and his only, he smiled when his tip reached your soft cervix, your sweet moans filling his ears when he pushed out and back inside. 

“That’s s-so good!” 

“Yeah? Your pussy is so warm right now, ‘luv. All tight around m-me.” He had his eyes closed, leaning to whisper in your ear. “Fucking missed this so much!” 

Your hands finding balance on his shoulders when he started his thrusts, the massive size making room for itself in you, his hips moving smoothly back and forth against yours, hitting your spots, pubes rubbing against your sensitive clit over and over and over. 

“T-Toji! Fuck, oh my-” Your voice was melting in your throat while he didn’t stop, body covering yours easily, grunting and moaning too close to your ear. “Y-Yes! Feels so- good!”

“Feels too- damn good for me, too, mama.” He was affected by your words and tightness around his girth, and not stopping meant going faster. Harder. Even if he wanted to keep it easy for you. 

He didn’t want to hurt you, no. Never his sweet, little, pregnant wife, but each thrust felt harder and rougher than the previous one, making you moan louder against his ear, fueling his fire. It was too hard for him when your cunt tightened uncontrollably around his throbbing length.

Looking down, he used the visual stimulation of your pussy swallowing his dick to move more tenderly against you, leveling his need to fuck and make love to you. It made him burn in fever while he drowned in the pleasure taking you both. 

“Ohh-h! To-ji! E-easy, love!” Your hands moved to his shoulders again, leaving red marks on his skin while your body was being flooded by that ecstasy. 

“Keep goin’, mama.” His rough voice continued, soothing you. “That’s right, cum for me again, yes.” 

Your husband kept his harsh and fast thrusts, just how it made you melt, controlling himself while his hips hit your body slowly. In the room, the wetness, moans and breathless whispers were echoing while he continued working through your orgasm, taking more reactions from you. 

“Breathe, doll.” He asked, kissing your forehead while trying to not apply pressure above your stomach. His kisses move down to your neck and breasts again. “That’s it… Can you handle one more?”

“Y-yeah… I think-”

“You can.” Toji cut out, kissing your temples on both sides. “Hold still.”

He moved you in a soft motion, helping you get on fours and placing the pillows under your chest, keeping your hips up for him. A small slap on your ass was all the warning you got before he started pushing himself into you again. Your hot walls taking his size, making the man pulse with his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling. 

Holding your hips tightly to keep you in place, he moved his own, the speed perfect for both of you, stealing moans and gasps. Opening your eyes, you looked at him from over your shoulder, noticing Toji staring down, amazed, his mouth half open, forehead sweaty with his disheveled black hair stuck. 

“No wonder why you hid your pregnancy from me, mama,” He started, not taking his eyes away while didn’t dare to stop pounding hard, hips hitting yours again and again. “If you just wanted me raw in this- fuck! T-Tight cunt, could’ve told me, ya’ know?” 

“T-That’s not-”

“Ha-ah!” Both hands pressed firmly against you, fingers digging against your warm skin. “Don’t lie to your husband, sweet thing.”

Your moan was low, choked, hands holding tight against the mattress and blankets, while you kept your eyes on him and called his name in a low, weak tone. Toji almost couldn’t handle it, too close to his own orgasm to think too hard about it, focused on fucking you like he promised. 

Faster

Harder. 

Pleasantly painful. 

“Toji- Please! It’s too-” You started, but he clicked his tongue, staring at your knitted eyebrows and teary eyes with a wide smirk. 

“Let me hear her, mama.” 

He placed his right knee on the bed, firm hands keeping you right where you were, not allowing your escape. With a pleased groan, he pushed in roughly again, your body jolting with the contact. His focus was on his movements only, bringing pleasure to both of you while hitting your sweet spots inside, heavy balls hitting your clit, reddening your skin. 

You moaned for him, mixing with the sounds of your pussy welcoming his dick. The bed hitting against the wall at each thrust, and his grunts and moans out in the open for you, the swearing escaping from his lips and the twitch of his length inside made you clench, your velvety walls more wet, spasming while cumming, calling his name.

“Fuck, sweet! She’s s-so warm!” He grunted. 

The never ending praises taking soft moans from your overstimulated cunt, the lubrication helping him slide in and out fast and faster. Your broken moans led him to another wave of pleasure, this time shooting his thick, whitish seed inside you.

“Hah! Yes… Always so- damn good f’me.” He breathed out, now moving slowly, edging himself while leaving every drop in.

Your hearts were beating rhythmically, fast, and you could only calm down when he pulled out, both hands on your thighs, keeping them open to watch his seed escaping, thick fingers rubbing your clit and pulling it back inside. 

“Ngh! Toji!” You cried, hips shaking, making him laugh. “Too much already.”

“Only because I don’t want you too tired, ma’.”

The man moved to lay on the bed, carefully pulling you closer, resting your head on his chest and kissing your forehead. Both arms wrapping around you, keeping you close. 

“How do you feel?” Your husband asked, staring back at you, hands moving, rubbing your thigh and shoulder. 

“Tired.” Your voice was quiet, an aching body soothed by his soft touch. “I need a shower.”

“We both do.”

“Don’t move.”

“As if I could.”

Leaving bed, Toji walked towards the bathroom, taking some time there, before he came back to you. Carefully, the tall man wrapped you in his arms, calculated steps guiding you towards the bathroom, a sweet perfume filling the place as he slowly put you in the large bathtub, warm water embracing your body, relaxing your muscles. 

Soon, he joined too, staying right behind you, hugging your torso and bathing you, spreading water over your arms and shoulders and massaging your skin with the liquid soap. That silly smile never left your face. 

“I love this side of you.” Your voice made him look at you, the beginning of a smile in the corner of his mouth, that little scar charming as always. 

“Just being better for my little family.” He shrugged, still washing your body first, knowing you would most likely sit on his lap to pay back. “Now a big family.”

“Yeah… We are now six. Eight, counting Shiro and Kuro.”

“I’m gonna need one of those ugly large cars.” He had a false pained tone in his voice, making you chuckle lightly.

“A minivan.”

“Hell no. Don’t torture me, it’s my birthday.” His response made you laugh, shaking your head at his drama. 

“And you’re already graying…” 

“That’s an illusion. You’re tired.” 

“You are! Look, right here.” You tried to point it out to the side of his hair, the few gray and white strands already being easily seen. 

“Shh, poor thing, you’re exhausted. Go to sleep, mama.”

His attempt in gaslighting made you laugh, moving back to relax your head against his chest yet again, stopping the teasing for now. You would let him have his happiness during his birthday, he certainly deserved it.

✰ tag list. @sad-darksoul, @e-dolly, @orangefreckles, @en-happiness, @ofcqdesi, @kaiparkerwifes, @simpforerenn, @ryomku, @moony-shinee, @pandoramyst, @prettykcals4301, @haydensjw, @sukunasthightattoos, @dancer545, @moonjellyfishie, @wonu8, @scorpiosugar, @pure--as--a--lamb

For those who weren't tagged up there, check your settings ;)

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐓𝐒, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒〃★ I do not authorize modifications, reposts, translations, or plagiarism of any kind.

[bottlesandbarricades]

I like when people mention “The Rains of Castamere” in their hotd fanfics cause I like to think the very alive Reynes of Castamere are sat in the corner of the feast going

[tinyluvs]

thinking about unprofessional!aether who presses a little too hard on dews neck when he complains of a sore throat, feels the way his breath hitches under his fingertips, tells him he has just the thing, a special kind of medicine as he’s unbuttoning his pants. laces his cum with quint so when he spills thick and heavy down dews throat it really does make him feel better

unprofessional!aether who gets phantom spread apart to see how nicely his little dick is growing, brushes wet gloved fingers against it to see how sensitive it is, phantoms hole clenching around nothing while he whimpers, does his best to answer aethers questions of, can you feel that? as aether pets down his cunt. smirking to himself when phantom whines, no!, as he pushes him over the edge, makes him cum without warning

unprofessional!aether who tracks cumulus’ heat, gets her into the infirmary during it, knowing she will whine & ask aether to do something, anything to stop the ache between her thighs. says it’s purely medical as he bends her over his desk, fucks her hard over his paperwork, tells her, gonna be late for all my other fuckin appointments, but doesn’t even try to slow down until she’s fucked out and the burn between her thighs is gone

unprofessional!aether who calls rain into the infirmary at least once a week to check on his gills after they dried out once, tilts his head to the side, ghosts his fingers along the slits until rain is whimpering, flushing deep red with embarrassment but then aether is saying how good he is while dipping his fingertips in and out until rain is crying & humping (soaking) aethers thigh

𖤐 more unprofessional!aether thoughts 𖤐 ghouls masterlist

[heavenlyraindrops]

Hi! I just started reading your post and your writing is excellent!! I was wondering if you could write a NSFW Lucifer x Reader , where Lucifer and Reader have been dating for a while but Lucifer is cautious in bed with Reader because he doesn’t want to scare her away with his dominant side, but reader actually is a sub and is into it? And keeps asking for him to show her his dominant side and on her birthday he does? Also can the reader have a praise kink too? If it’s too much I understand, thank you!

ʟᴜᴄɪꜰᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | “ꜱʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ” ——> ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.4ᴋ

Warnings: soft!dom!lucifer, monsterfucking (his demon form), he uses his tail to get you off, birthday sex, praise kink, afab!reader/ fem!reader, established relationship, creampie, rough-ish sex, p in v sex

a/n: hii love this req! I don’t really think of lucifer as a dom so I went for soft!dom, sorry if this is a bit iffy I just don’t see him that way 😭 other than that I loved writing this had sm fun haha hope you enjoy!

You traced the crook of Lucifer’s pale neck with your fingertip, sighing at the darkened purple marks and bruises littering his skin. He wrapped his arm around your waist, shivering slightly at your breath on his skin.

“What’s wrong?” He mumbled, voice muffled by the pillows and sheets. You let your head flop back, reveling in his warm embrace as an afterglow filled the air. “Nothing,” you muttered. He shifted around you, raising an eyebrow.

“Obviously it’s not nothing.”

You faltered, biting your lip before turning to him. “You know I can tell you hold back on me.” You rolled your eyes, clutching the displaced sheets around you as he turned to you, a blond lock falling over his forehead. 

“And you know that I don’t want to scare you away.” He tried to wrap his arms around you but you shimmied away, and he looked at you despondently as you sat up, licking his lips nervously as his eyes fell on your body.

“You’d never scare me away,” you sighed. “It just doesn’t feel right.” You waved at the space between you and him. “It makes me feel like I’m not giving you enough… pleasure.”

“Pleasure?” he snickered, scooting towards you. You flushed as he wormed his way in between your legs, planting a kiss to your lips. 

“Yes, pleasure,” you huffed. “We just fucked. You don’t have to make it… weird…!“ you trailed off as he began pressing more kisses, gradually becoming longer and deeper. You snaked your arms around his shoulders, tugging on the soft blond hair. 

“How about we see how much pleasure I can give you?” He whispered breathlessly in between kisses, hands slipping around your waist. You bit back a moan. 

“We just did,” you muttered, and his hand slipped in between your legs, eliciting a soft gasp. “Stop trying to change the subject. We were talking seriously-“ You cut off with a moan as he teased your entrance. 

“Well we can talk about it in the morning.” His voice was husky on the shell of your ear. “Just let me make you feel good, ‘kay angel?” You sighed, slipping with him under the covers, unable to tear your eyes away from his triumphant grin. 

“Fine.” 

-

Morning came. You didn’t talk about it. 

You pestered him for the rest of the day. You pestered him over breakfast. You two had to visit Charlie at the hotel, and you even pestered him there. 

You leaned over as Charlie started animatedly explaining her project to open a library in the hotel. “You could dom me, you know,” you whispered. “If you’re into it, I wouldn’t mind.”

You watched as his face turned bright red, and he pushed you away. “Fuck’s sake, [name], not now,” he hissed under his breath. 

“You won’t scare me away.”

“We can talk about it when we get home.” 

You pressed your lips together in a pout, but didn’t say anything, just turned back to Charlie. Lucifer threw you a sidelong glance, licking his lips again before tearing his eyes away. 

The ride home was tense. You turned to him, opened your mouth to talk. He glared at you. 

“If it’s about that, then don’t even try.”

You huffed, rolled your eyes, and crossed your arms. “Pussy,” you muttered under your breath. You saw his grip tighten on the steering wheel, and assumed he’d grown angry, not noticing the way his face flushed and the way his heartbeat intensified. 

He ignored you with a roll of his eyes, and your frustration festered. 

You reached home. He still wouldn’t talk about it. You tried everything, from begging to seduction to bribery. 

“I don’t get it,” you said, exasperated. “Why don’t you just fucking dominate me? Okay, it sounds weird and cringe when I say it like that, but-“

“You know what I don’t get?” Lucifer sighed, taking a sip from his mug, looking at you over the table. “Why you’re so hellbent on getting me to do that.”

You propped yourself up on your elbow, sighing but not saying anything, instead opting to glance out the window. Yeah, dude, I’m fucking into it, but I’m not gonna say it, am I? You sighed and picked at the foot on your plate, avoiding his pointed stare. 

You glanced up at him, noticing a small smirk playing across his lips. You wondered if he could see your red face in the warm light, despite the darkness of the night out the window. “What?” You asked, miffed.

He shook his head wordlessly and turned his attention back on the food. 

You chewed your lips, then rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the quickened thrum of your heartbeat. 

“Whatever,” you muttered.

-

“Happy Birthday!” Charlie squealed, tossing a giant bucket of confetti in your face. You spluttered as a couple went inside your mouth. 

“Charlie?” You squeaked. Lucifer circled his arm around your waist as Vaggie brought out a cake, decorated with lit candles. You bit back an excited squeal. 

The room was dark when you had entered, but now the lights had switched on, revealing the hotel staff and residents who were all eager to surprise you. Confetti littered the floor, balloons stuck to the ceiling- and, in the back, a huge banner, spelling out “Happy Birthday [name]!” In colourful writing. 

“You said we were coming for the library project,” you pointed out, jabbing Lucifer in the chest with a finger playfully. He chuckled, voice low as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Surprise?” He tried. You threw your arms around him. 

“‘Course,” you mumbled, voice muffled as you spoke into the crook of his neck. 

You hugged Charlie, too, and Vaggie and Angel, but didn’t get the chance to greet anyone else before Charlie swept you onto the couch for presents and cake. Your heart fluttered with warmth, as you looked around at everyone. 

“Thank you for this, Charlie,” you murmured. She laughed and hugged you again. “It wasn’t just my idea. It was dad’s too. And, well everyone else here.” She pulled away. “We kind of collectively had the thought to throw you this.” She placed the knife in your hand, motioning for you to make the first cut. 

Angel Dust had switched on some music- albeit inappropriate, and once everyone had finished their portion of cake he dragged you over to the bar.

“So, toots,” he smirked, nodding at Husk to pour you both some drinks, “How’s it going with Short King?”

“Ugh, fine.” You rolled your eyes as Husk slid over a glass. Angel raised an eyebrow.

“That means, not fine.”

You didn’t say anything, instead taking an aggravated gulp from your drink. Angel traced the rim of his glass, hands on his hips. “So, you wanna talk about it? Wait, no, actually, let me guess what it is.” He began listing situations off of his fingers. “Doesn’t make ya cum.” You blanched, but he ignored it, continuing. “Bad kisser? Oh, I know.” He dropped his voice to a scandalous whisper, placing his hand on your shoulder and drawing you in. “He has a foot fetish.” 

“No, no and no!” You swatted his hand away, full of embarrassment as you glanced at Husk, who was side-eyeing you both. You gulped. “You didn’t hear that, did you?”

Husk gave a languid shrug. “Just somethin’ ‘boutta foot fetish.”

You flinched. “Well, just know,” you said hysterically, “that I do not have a foot fetish.” You gestured wildly to the room. “No one here has a foot fetish.”

He at you blankly, clearly not interested. “Right.” 

“It’s true!”

“I believe ya.” 

“You don’t sound very convinced.” 

He rolled his eyes, disappearing from the bar, clearly having had enough of you. Angel blew a kiss after him before turning back to you. “So, what really is it?”

“Nothing important.” You sighed and set your almost empty glass down with a clink. “He’s great, really. He’s sweet, he’s kind, thoughtful, funny, gentle-“

“So it is the sex.”

You didn’t say anything.

“Huh. You woulda thought someone like him that’s been ‘round for so long would be better at fucking, but I guess not.”

“N-no!” You spluttered. “You’ve got it wrong, he’s great at sex. It’s-“ you glanced around quickly- “it’s addictive, really. He’s that good.” You sighed. “It’s just…” 

“Just…?”

“So. I think he’s- I think he’s like, a top or a dom or whatever, right?”

A giant grin crept its way onto Angel’s face. You ignored it, albeit annoyed, and ploughed on.

“But he’s holding back on me. He says he doesn’t want to scare me away or hurt me, but he won’t! It’s so dumb, really. And I keep asking him to show me what he’s- show me his- you know, and he won’t!”

“Well, why’re ya so hellbent on getting him to top you?” Angel quizzed, rolling back his shoulders as he threw a seductive glance at a grumpy Husk on the other side of the room. His eyes flicked back to you. “You given him a reason why he should?” He leaned forward.

“Well, no,” you grumbled. “But I don’t see why I need to.”

“You’re into it, aren’t ya?” He said, smirking. You flinched. 

“Oh well like maybe.” You shrugged, face burning up. “Don’t see why that’s significant.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Sure. Well, wishin’ ya luck.” He raised his glass. “Here’s to hopin’ he’ll finally rail you tonight.” You picked up your half- empty one and tapped them together with a clink.

“Cheers,” you muttered, downing the last few drops of alcohol from the bottom of the glass, as Angel followed suit. 

“[name].” You turned to see Charlie standing behind you, her hand closing around your wrist as she dragged you into the dance floor- aka the center of the lobby. “Come dance with us!” 

You let out a giddy laugh as she grabbed both your hands, bopping to the music. It was endearing. You twirled her around, and she picked you up and spun you before you twirled her again and released her into Vaggie’s arms, and her girlfriend swept her away into their own bubble as the music slowed.

Hands closer around your waist as you looked up to see Lucifer. “Hey,” you said breathlessly. He pressed you closer.

“Missed you,” he mumbled. You laughed again. 

“We’ve been in the same room the whole time,” you teased, placing a hand on his chest. He smiled softly, eyes lidded as you snaked your arms around his shoulders.

“Well, we haven’t had much alone time together since the start of the day, have we?”

“We can have some together once we get home.” You winked at him. “Just you and-“

“Angel! The fuck is this romantic shit? Put on something cunty!”  Cherri’s racous screams from the other side of the room cut across your suggestive sentence. The cyclops then ran over to you, grabbing you and pulling you over to herself.

Lucifer sighed as you slipped from his arms, the beat of the music thrumming through the ground. Cherri whooped. “Sorry, bitch, she’s mine for this song!” She yelled across to him. He chuckled and shook his head as Cherri’s voice struck out again. 

“C’mon, [name], shake your ass like you mean it!” 

And yours: “The fuck?! I can’t-“

“Yeah you can!”

“I’m not shaking my…” Your voice trailed off as he tuned you out, going to search for Husk to see if the cat was willing to show him another card trick. 

-

“Fuck, that was awesome.” You flopped down next to him in the car, grinning. “Best birthday ever.” You sighed, leaning your head against the window as the car drove off.

He glanced at you. “Good to know,” he chuckled. You sighed contentedly, and for a moment all was silent. 

“What were you saying, by the way?” He cleared his throat. “About, spending some time together, me and y- I mean, you’re probably tired-“ he looked away nervously, and you chuckled.

“Oh, I’m not tired,” you murmured, staring straight at him, and you watched his jaw tense and grip tighten. The air grew tense. 

“Good,” he muttered, so quiet you barely even heard him, then raised his voice again, repeating his word, more steady and louder this time. “Good.” 

-

“Luci?” You murmured, feeling his hands wrap around your waist, breath shaky on your neck. 

“Mhm?” His fingers teased the hem of your top, worming their way beneath the fabric to touch your bare skin. You shivered against his back. 

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” You tried to keep your voice light and playful, but when he slowly pressed his hips against yours and bit down on your neck it dissipated into something breathy and shaky. 

“Spending some time alone with you.” 

You hummed, turning around to face him. His hands fell to your hips, squeezing gently as you flushed. “Really?”

He nodded, eyes flicking to your lips as he leaned in for a kiss. You pulled away, eyes locking onto his. “Bedroom?”

He grinned, sharp teeth glinting. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

-

“Fuck, Lucifer,” you gasped with him buried in between your legs, lapping at your cunt like a starved man. His hands dug into your thighs, and when you tried to squirm he’d leave a harsh slap on the soft skin, telling you to stay still.

“What’s this?” You grinned breathlessly, fighting to keep your voice even as you pushed yourself up. He pulled away, chin coated in your slick. The very sight made you throb. “You’ve never told me what to do in bed before.”

For a moment he was silent, eyes boring into your face, still against your legs like a statue. His fingers dug in a little deeper and you yelped. He pushed himself up onto you, pinning you down as he grabbed your wrists and held them above your head. He leaned close, teeth grazing over your neck. 

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” He hissed. You throbbed again, the slickness between your thighs growing as your heart pounded against your ribcage. You wondered if he could hear it. 

“I-“

“Hush.” His lips began trailing your jaw and neck, leaving bites and hickeys in a trail. He slowly ground his hips against yours, and you whimpered before rubbing your thighs together, desperate for friction but only making the problem worse. “Tell me what you want.”

“I-“ you cut off, too breathless to speak. He’d never looked at you this way before. You’d never been in this position with him. “I want you to…”

“Mhm?” He coaxed gently, slowly rubbing his thumb against your clit. You arched your back, pressing your body against his. “Go on.”

“Fuck,” you hissed. “I want you to fuck me.”

He chuckled, voice low before sitting back and away from you. His hands found his zipper. 

You looked around nervously, unable to look straight at him.

What was wrong with you? You’d never been with him like this before. Usually it was you on top of him, asking him what he wanted, making him beg for it, touching him-

What changed? 

You glanced at him nervously. 

You tried to calm your nerves. You’d asked for this. You’d asked for this for ages. Sitting up, your eyes followed his movements. 

His hands were on your hips again, pulling you to him and crushing his mouth on yours. All the breath sucked out of your lungs as you whimpered into the kiss, hand fondling the growing bulge in his pants. 

He bit down on your lip, and you both fell back into the covers. He pushed himself up, grinning uncontrollably down at you. “Fuck, angel, you look perfect.”

The praise made your heat burn even more, sending fire to your cheeks. It didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

He quickly got to undressing you, unbuttoning your shirt and sliding down your skirt, and you shuddered, reaching for the buttons on his own shirt. You pulled him in for another kiss, bodies pressed together. Warmth radiated from him like a beacon. 

His hands slipped their way in between your thighs again, pushing your legs open. A soft whimper escaped him when he saw how wet you were, and he licked his lips in anticipation. 

With one swift thrust he entered. You sucked in a harsh breath as he gave a small, exhilarated laugh, voice quivering with pleasure as your walls contracted around him. He pressed in deeper, and the deep kiss of his cock inside you made you throw your head back, bucking your hips up. 

“Fuck,” he burst out, and you felt a searing heat surround the two of you. You screwed your eyes shut, and when you finally opened them, you were gazing into red eyes instead of yellow ones. 

His wings had burst from his back, arching out behind him, and horns protruding from his head. He bit his lip, a worried expression on his face. “Shit, sorry angel. I got excited and I-“

“No it’s…” your eyes roved up and down his body. “It’s nice.” It’s hot was what you meant to say, and he must have sensed it too because he laughed as your hips bucked into him again. 

He grabbed your hips and pushed them back down. “Hush,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you this time.” But his voice was shaking and his face was flushed. You sank down, trying to relax as he pressed more kisses and love bites along your collarbone to your shoulder. 

Slowly he began moving, and a small moan slipped out of you, agonized by the slow pace. “Go faster,” you hissed, throwing an arm over your eyes.  

“Maybe if you ask nicely.” You could almost hear the grin in his voice. You sucked in a quivering breath. 

“Please, go faster.” 

He chuckled, satisfied, before picking up the pace. You dug your nails into his shoulders, eyes tearing up as it grew faster, almost brutal, and he leaned down to nibble at the shell of your ear, almost crushing you down into the bed below. It rocked underneath, the sound lain underneath the soft moans and grunts filling the room. 

“Fuck, you’re doing so good,” he groaned. Another wet kiss to your jaw. “So good for me, hmm? My perfect angel.” Another snap of his hips along with the sweet nothings he whispered into your ears had you seeing stars, your eyes rolling back into your head, and he laughed quietly at the sight, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His tail snaked in between both your bodies, the tip swirling around your clit and making you let out a shaky, pleading moan. 

“Mhmm, so good for you,” you managed to gasp out through short, quick breaths, trying to catch your breath under his weight and his pace and the abuse of your clit. He nipped at your shoulder and you grabbed his face with shaking hands, pulling it to yours for a sloppy kiss. The pleasure built up to an unbearable pressure, waiting to be released. 

“I think I-“ you felt so good you thought you might die, hands falling away from Lucifer to grip and claw at the sheets beneath you. “I think I’m gonna cum-“

“Go ahead,” he whispered against your lips. “Cum for me, angel.”

You did, released around his cock, shockwaves of pleasure and relief turning your limbs numb. He fucked you through the orgasm, drawing it out long and slow, your whimpers and moans sounding like a sweet melody to him. “You look so pretty,” he groaned, breath hot on the shell of your ear. “Fuck- I think- I think I’m gonna cum too-“

You wrapped your arms around him, raking at his back, trails your fingernails were sure to leave burning on his pale skin. “Cum in me, Lucifer,” you gasped. Those words themselves were enough to make his cock throb, as he finished, cum feeling  hot inside you before he fucked it in deeper. You whimpered before he finally pulled out, flopping down beside you. Your brain had tuned out what he was saying, which was muffled through the haze of arousal. 

“…you, thank you, my good girl-“ He pressed his forehead against yours. “I fucking love you,” You shivered and he flopped down next to you, drawing you in close and burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

“I love you too,” you murmured, on the verge of passing out. You rolled over so you could kiss him. 

“Happy birthday,” he chuckled anxiously. “Was it good?”

You wrapped your arms around him. “Best birthday gift I could have asked for.” 

[childlikegoblinqueen]

Commission by the amazing @astrolavas !!!!

Hunter and Gus taking Raine to a Weird Al show. Tickets? Check. Hawaiian Shirts? Check.

Raine has NO CLUE what they are in for.

One Shot Fan Fic below.

My MySpace Page is all totally pimped out! Got people begging for my top 8 spaces!

[deityoftherain]

Even Ice Walls Fall Down Fanfic Memes

This is just a little collection of memes I made for @watcheraurora 's ranchers-centric superpowers au, particularly the third major installment, that you can find under the cut! Spoilers ahead! You have been warned!

If you haven't read the fic yet, I highly recommend it! It's so good!

[goodomensao3tagoftheday]

[frogchillinginagrave]

Here we have me dealing very well with the end of "crimson wings shield the flower" by @scrapimmortal

I am not crying the Rain Master was just not aiming very well 🥹

It's dangerous to go alone! Here taking baby Hong Hong-er with you:

(I added the flames because I painted egg yolk first and it looked disgusting)

It was a great journey with a lot of wonderful moments! Thank you so much for writing this and I am super proud and impressed of/by you!!!!! (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧