#so i do not describe settings as much as i otherwise would.

[whateveriwant]

might I request how tf 141 tries to turn you on maybe? Sorry kind of a weird request you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to ;-;

Not a weird request at all, anon! Hope you enjoy! 18+ only, GN!Reader

Price

Three words: full body massage

That man loves to get his hands on you, and it doesn’t even have to be sexual in nature, honestly. Any opportunity to touch you, to caress you, to help ease the tension from your body, he’ll gladly take it (and if afterwards you’ll let him ease himself into you, well, that’s just an added bonus 😉)

He might use special rollers or electric massagers sometimes, but mostly he just sticks to those big, strong hands of his

He'll start by slicking up his palms with some oil, warming it up before he applies it to your skin

Beginning with your shoulders, he’ll slowly work his way down your body, paying special attention to the areas you need most targeted

Aside from those tender spots, he’ll also be sure to focus on a few of your more erogenous zones, namely your thighs and your ass (he's an ass man for sure)

By the time he's finished, you're all supple and pliant before him, but there’s something else too – a sort of warm, fluttery feeling in your gut

Luckily, he knows just the remedy for that sensation. And oh! Would you look at that? You're already in his favorite position: prone

Ghost

We all know he tends to be a man of few words, and this applies to every environment he finds himself in

…At least, every environment outside the bedroom, that is

Because when he's in the mood, you best hold on tight to your pants if you don't want them flying off from how he talks to you (but, I guess, your pants coming off is his end goal anyway)

You'll just be going about your day, minding your business, when you'll get a call from him while he’s “busy” at work

He'll start off casual at first, inquiring about your day, your plans for the night, etc., but it won't take long for the conversation to steer to the real reason for his call: to describe the way he's going to fuck you when he gets home

He'll go into excruciating, toe curling detail about all the things he's going to do to you; just how good he’s going to fuck you until you forget your own name

I hope you're not in public when you take his call, otherwise you better have the poker face of a lifetime if you don't want to make a scene in front of several dozens of witnesses

Gaz

He's a big romantic at heart, so rather than just going straight for the bedroom, he'll slowly work his way up to it over the course of the evening

First, he'll treat you to a nice dinner – either by cooking it himself or by taking you to that fancy restaurant you love but think is much too expensive for every day dining

Beneath dimmed, romantic lighting, together you'll share a delicious meal, a glass or two of wine, and of course a tasty dessert to cap it all off

The conversation will be light and pleasant (nothing unbecoming whatsoever), but while he might not outright voice the plans he has for you later in the night, that look he keeps giving you from across the table speaks volumes

When you’ve finished your meal and gradually made your way back home/to the bedroom, even then he still isn't done buttering you up just yet

He'll put on some slow music, maybe light a couple candles to really set the mood, even draw you both a bath if you're feeling up to it

Once he does finally take you to bed, it'll be a seamless transition from an evening overflowing with desire and passion

Soap

‘Subtlety’ is not really a word in his vocabulary, so most of the time when he's horny, he's just turning to you and asking if you want to fuck

However, sometimes when you need a little more build up than that, he has a few tried and true methods he knows will work you up

He'll change so that he’s walking around your flat wearing a pair of gray sweatpants. Wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants, mind you

Whilst wearing said sweatpants, he'll proceed to stretch and flex around you, showing off all those muscles he knows you love, as well as highlighting a few other assets he knows drives you crazy (i.e. bulge printtttt 😍)

He'll then get really touchy with you, starting innocent at first – brushing an eyelash from your cheek, straightening the neck of your shirt – before he gets more and more brazen with his petting

And when he's real close like that, leaning right into your ear, he’ll mutter soft praises to you: telling you how beautiful you look, how good you smell, how soft your skin is where he’s touching just there

By the time he finally goes to ask if you want to have sex, he doesn't even get the words out before you're jumping him like a wild animal. All according to plan…

[gemsalive]

re: that HEFTY siffrin sweep on id5’s isat favourite blorbos poll — this might sound silly but i do actually think it’s kinda fascinating that isat, as a game so inseparably steeped in (for lack of a better way to describe it) queer fandom culture, managed to so completely sidestep the common Fandom Phenomenon that i suspect was behind the poll in the first place by creating a main character that is also overwhelmingly the fan favourite character for once.

obviously there are any number of factors we could point at to explain the extent to which siffrin nomiddlenames nolastnames manages to grab people and absolutely not let go, but personally i think one of the most interesting ones to consider is the one specific to the medium — that is, how siffrin subverts the “silent blank slate video game protagonist” archetype in such a way that happens to be primo brainrot breeding grounds.

like, when a video game dev makes a silent protagonist it’s usually a bid to maximize immersion by closing the aesthetic distance between player and character as much as possible, right? which is especially true of rpg video games — players find connection in the generic, as that is what gives you the freedom of motion to insert yourself into the story in whatever unique shape suits you best. you are your character and your character is you.

(as ever, post ran long. yall know the drill. tossin in a quick header pic before thoughts on blank slates & blorboification continue under the cut)

and then you’ve got siffrin, who is expressly pointed out to be the taciturn type; who when initially giving the player exposition about their journey so far doesn’t seem to hint at a life or history or even really any motivations outside the journey; whose every thought and action is narrated in second person so as to keep tracing and re-tracing the connection between him and you.

even their design — all darkless and shapeless, bundled up in that big cloak, as if an invitation for you to fill it in with whatever lets you relate to them most! at this point they are their own character for sure, but they also have enough very clear parallels going on with the silent protagonist archetype to feel more than accidental.

of course, as you keep playing you start to recognize that his blankness is much, much more than just a grab at immersion; his apparent lack of backstory, itself a fundamental piece of backstory. this is where he flips dramatically in the player’s perception from “generic vessel for story delivery” to “thoroughly multidimensional character trapped within endless torment nexus custom-built to target and exacerbate all his very specific worst traits rooted in very specific traumas”.

yknow, the good stuff !

but by then you have also been playing enough to be feeling the effects of the thing isat’s design does best of all. i’m talkin bout that ludonarrative lockstep baby. every piece of isat’s gameplay is designed to make you feel what siffrin is feeling — you understand by now that he is not a stand-in for you, but all the same you share in his frustration, his grief, his rare moments of joy and the subsequent heart-in-your-shoes devastation when that joy is inevitably poisoned — and through it all, the desperate grasping for anything new — all as if they were every bit your own.

so in this way the connection is maintained, even if you were someone for whom siffrin’s particular traits & struggles might not otherwise cause you relate to them at all if you had encountered them elsewhere, in a setting where you weren’t actively controlling them as a player. siffrin still gets to carry all the “just like me fr” impact of the blank slate protagonist in the tropes he embodies and in the game mechanics’ design, while totally free to evolve completely into his own character and keep you relating to closely them all the same. now toss back in the fact that said traits & struggles very much ARE of a flavour that a great many people Would Tend To Relate To and just like that you’ve got a perfect storm cookin.

too individual and compellingly written to be an empty vessel for plot delivery. too closely connected with the player’s emotional state to be a story observed impassively from the outside. he has 92 mental illnesses and for the low low price of free u can give him yours to carry too. nobody is doin it like him. congratulations on your well-deserved nose sniffrin nomiddlenames nolastnames <3

[chlorinecake]

☆ ☆ ☆ You’re All Skin n’ Bones, Baby

— ⊹ ⛓️ 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 ♯ Trouble Maker!N.RK x Good Girl!Reader 🍴

⛓️ 𝗣𝗟𝗢𝗧 ♯ When your father, a.k.a the dean of your university, sets you on a quest to help the troubled transfer student from your art class rewrite the rebellious narrative staining his character, you two find yourselves falling for each other, discovering a new art of taking chances, making mistakes, and getting messy...

⛓️ 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗦 ♯ Swearing, Awkward Situations, Riki Vandalizes Your University with Graffiti, Name-Calling (Flirting), Kissing (With Tongue), Hickeys (Kinda), Riki Has A Tattoo, Lingering Touches (Nothing Below The Belt), Suggestive Jokes, Reckless Behavior, Some Fluff and Angst if You Squint

⛓️ 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 ♯ 4.2k ──── 「 生きがい 」

Friday, The Dean's Office,  3:32 p.m.

“Simply put, Riki is a very misunderstood youth, and you, _____, so happen to be one of the few people who sincerely understand him.”

You stared back at your father, who sat in his leather chair at his desk, a dumbfounded expression upon your face as you crossed your arms. “And you're telling me all of this because of what again?”

“Because I need your help,” Riki butted in from where he sat beside where you stood on your feet, drawing your attention back to his casual disposition.

From the way his long legs extended lazily before him to the way his black combat boots hit the ground with loud thumps every time his foot bounced out of boredom, the poor kid was just as big as his behavioral problems...

That is, roughly 187 centimeters worth...

However, in spite of his large stature and occasional bouts of clumsiness, Riki Nishimura was lighter than a feather on his feet when it came to dancing, a.k.a., one of the few things in his life that he found joy in, aside from you, his family, and the comfort of his bed...

Looking back at your father, he gave you a pleading look, hoping that he would somehow soften your heart without the use of any more words.

And it’s not that you didn't want to help Riki...

I mean, he was one of your closest friends, and you otherwise would've leaped at any opportunity to spend more time with him, so long as it wasn't under such circumstances.

In the past, your father never really approved of your friendship with Riki, simply because he had a track record of rebellion according to the other universities he attended and ended up getting kicked out of.

'A homeschooled delinquent,' some would call him, but you preferred sweeter names for him—names that described the real him.

It's just that the whole idea of having you, the “perfect student,” coach a more troubled peer seemed like a poor excuse of a publicity stunt.

Riki was much more to you than that... he deserved better than to be scrutinized like some sort of criminal just for being his authentic self.

And the odd reality was that you and the other kids at your university with allegedly clean records were no different from Riki.

All misguided and all��a little reckless here and there...

Taking risks was part of being young, last time you checked.

The only difference is that Riki wasn't as good at hiding those parts of him like the rest of the students at your university were...

They were either forced or pressured to hide behind a mask that resembled good grades, perfect attendance... stuck within a cookie-cutter framework, and exhibiting perpetual compliance to the ways of the academic world—

“Fine,” you sighed, straightening your posture to appear more obliging than you were actually feeling, “but only if you promise not to make this some sort of project, Dad... Riki's my friend, not some charity case to make you look good.”

Your father scoffed at your insulting words. “What do you take me as, some kind of crook? Such a thought never even crossed my mind, _____,” he corrected sternly before continuing, “My concerns for Riki come from a good place and have nothing to do with what I can gain from you agreeing to help us-”

“Fix him, right?” You interrupt, making a shy smirk tug at the corners of Riki's mouth at the awkward tension in the room now.

“Honey, you know that's not what this is about,” your father sighs, getting up from his seat and straightening out his suit. “Riki is not a broken lamp that he should be fixed... but a lost soul in need of positive redirecting.”

“And who better to help than a fellow peer?” Riki winks at you, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Precisely,” the dean finishes, pushing his chair under the desk before making his way to the office door. “I expect you two to run into hurdles on this journey, but hopefully it's a process that helps you both grow... together...”

You shake your head, uncrossing your arms from over your chest as your father’s eyes flicker between you and Riki now.

“Oh, and one more thing, ____... this young man may be troubled to some degree, but he can certainly teach you a lesson or two on respect.”

Slam.

The office door closed slowly, but with its habitually loud locking sound, making your insides shake a bit.

You look back at Riki, who only had a shrug to offer you, though you knew your father was expecting you and Riki to see yourselves out of his office.

So y’all did, all the way to your separate homes, where you would dread the following Monday when Project: “Positively Redirect” Riki would commence!...

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Next Monday, ART Room 8080, 5:30 p.m.

The bottom of your ass was stinging given how long you had been sitting in the uncomfortable desk chair.

Your back had also started to burn with a similar pain, and the only thing that seemed to delight you amidst the lengthy "Elements of Art" lecture was once again the tall boy sitting beside you.

The voice of your instructor faded away in your ears as you observed Riki holding an ink pen, gliding its ball-tip against his skin in careful lines.

“You suck at drawing,” you whisper to him.

“And your mother’s a cow,” he retorts plainly, despite the smirk curling at his mouth.

From what you can tell, he was drawing a spiderweb in the shape of a heart on the inside of his wrist; The same romantic spiderweb design that was graffitied on your university's parking lot pavement a few days ago.

You always found it endearing how Riki's right wrist would be full of inky doodles by the end of each lecture, thanks to him being left-handed.

Though, other people found his habit to be odd… immature, even... and you never understood why those people even felt the need to speak—

“You’re really making an effort at this character development thing, aren’t you, babes?” You ask sarcastically, tilting your head at him now.

“Yup,” he answers matter-of-factly, eyes still trained on the inky design staining his pale skin.

You took in the expression on his face—the way his lips often poked out slightly like a duck whenever he focused on something.

It was a sight that always made you giggle inside… mostly because you found cute things to be humorous, but also because Riki had a way of making you feel all giddy for reasons you didn't fully understand—

“Wanna kiss ‘em or something?” He asked, looking you dead in the eye with his own piercing ones.

“E-excuse me?” You scoffed with both confusion and feigned disgust.

“I mean these,” he said, showing you the doodle of a skull on his wrist that had big, red lips to match the crimson bows at each pigtail. “Heard you like it juicy,” he continued, raising his eyebrows at you flirtatiously.

“Shut the fuck up,” you swear, shoving his shoulder slightly.

And with that, the class was concluded, and students were loading up their textbooks into their backpacks in every which direction—

“You’re really not that different from me, y’know that?” He said in a mocking tone, “Especially not with that raging potty mouth of yours...”

“I was provoked to use such language, you dick.”

“Then you have very poor emotional regulation skills for your age.”

...

“I’m leaving,” you say, getting up from the seat and slinging your bag over your shoulder, “have fun making out with your new dOodLe sKuLl giRLfriEnD... Heard you like ‘em skinny, anyways…”

“Pfft... Where’d you hear that crap?”

“Around,” you lied, knowing that Riki wasn't the type of guy to have weight preferences when it came to girls...

He only had personality preferences, and so far, you were his absolute favorite person yet, crumby attitude and all.

“Whatever,” he said, in between your brief voyage to the campus lockers where you put your things away. “Also,” Riki began again, leaning against his locker while looking at his reflection in the mirror, “should I... change?”

“What, your diaper?”

“No, my outfit, stupid. Unless you don’t mind being seen with a guy who looks like me these days...”

His words sting you for some reason, and you know exactly what he was trying to imply with that comment.

The other day, Riki heard your father complaining to an instructor in his office about student's not 'abiding by standards of clothing apparel,' and of course, the poor boy assumed the comment was specifically directed towards him-

“You look fineee, Riki,” you reassure him, closing your locker before caressing the side of his arm gently. “Besides, I'd never feel ashamed walking beside you... ripped jeans, piercings, and all...”

His mind paused for a second, focusing a little too hard on the way your touch somehow warmed him from both the outside and within.

“Hey,” you started, your voice pulling him back from his thoughts, “Earth to Riki...?”

“Y-yea, right... Earth,” he stammered, running a shy hand through his hair before adjusting his backpack over his shoulder.

“Let's get out of here, then,” you chuckled, walking down the hall now as he followed closely behind you.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Later, On Some Unknown, Majestic Path, 6:17 p.m.

You two made it to a bridge—the crossing road where you and him expected to straighten out the crooked mess of rumors and past infamies plaguing Riki’s reputation.

“You got the letter, right?”

The letter, he heard your words replay in his mind...

The very letter in which Riki divulged a sincere handwritten apology to the Dean of your university discussing his declining academic performance, poor behavior, aptitudes to improve, and blah fucking blah...

Anyone with a good head on their shoulders could tell that Riki was a fantastic artist, but every rose had its thorn, with Riki's impulsive creative side often getting the best of him...

Aside from going against the dress code and skipping classes, Riki recently vandalized school property with a spontaneous mural of skulls, spiderwebs, and other edgy doodles on the parking lot pavement.

Nobody knew he was responsible for it aside from you, and you had no intention of ratting him out for it...

Yes, it was an unusual design to see every morning at the center of such a prestigious university, but regardless of all that, you figured the graffiti looked pretty cool, actually...

Besides, it was an art school for crying out loud; weren't students supposed to express themselves here?

Or perhaps you only felt that way because Riki was responsible for it, but I digress.

“Yeah, I double checked before we left,” he said plainly, looking down the brick road ahead. “Oh, and uh... I know I've never showed you, but my place is actually the small one right over there… with the candle-like furnace on top... you see it?”

“Yeah, I see it,” you smile softly, just as you catch on to him walking ahead of you and down the right path instead of the left one.

“Hey, the dean's office is this way, remember?”

“Uh huh... and it’s still gonna be there when we get back.”

“Bro, where’re you going?”

“Bro, nowhere,” he replied mockingly, still walking away from you, “I just need to clear my head before sending this stupid letter… just in case I run into the dean or something...”

“And would that really be so bad?” You pressed, “I swear, it’s like everyone views my dad like a scary monster just because he’s doing his job...”

Riki felt himself internally gag at the reminder that you were in fact the deans daughter.

“Since when do you, of all people, defend your dad?”

“Hey, I may be a disrespectful fart towards him at times, but that doesn't mean I can't stand up for him.”

“Uh huh,” Riki nods skeptically, “he must be giving you extra brownie points and allowance for that shit or something...”

“Yeah, actually, he is! And I don't plan on sharing any with you, either... not my brownies points NOR my petty cash...”

“Good,” he retorts playfully, mirroring your bratty behavior, “my piggy bank likes being empty, anyways... PLUS, I’m trying to cut back on sugar these days...”

“Well, good luck with that then... citrus helps, though… with the sugar cravings, I mean.”

“I know... that’s why I’m hanging out with you... duhhh!”

“Oh, so you’re implying that I'm sour, now?”

“If the shoe fits,” he shrugs, and a few moments pass before you’re walking through a front door, through his living room, and eventually onto a balcony.

The house was so dimly lit that you couldn’t make out much of anything while inside, other than the smell of tea and leather cleaner.

“What d’you think?” Riki asks, spreading his arms out to show off, “Gnarly landscape, am I right?”

“You’re so right,” you agree, walking over to the ledge and observing the large pasture that made up his backyard. “It’s beautiful here.”

The two of you look over the edge for a while, folding your arms over the stone balcony until you catch him looking off to the other side, something about him immediately catching your attention.

“Woah?” You exclaim, finding your hands in his hair as you turn his head, examining the thing that caught your eye.

“Woah what? Is there a bug on me or something?” Riki asks, bending his knees slightly so you can reach him better.

“No, it's a tattoo.” You clarify, “I didn't know you had any real ones...”

“Oh yeahhh… I uh... I got that one a while back when I was in high school... I have another one, too, but it's under my clothes, so I can't show you until we're marri-”

“What's it say?” You ask with a whisper, examining the fine textures of inky Japanese characters staining the ivory skin behind his ear.

The tattoo in itself was relatively simple, but you believe that's what made it all the more stunning...

“Ikigai...” He answers with a deep voice, looking in your eyes with his own piercing ones, which makes you retreat your touch from his hair, “it refers to something that gives us our sense of purpose... our reason to live...”

The silence is so loud after he says that that the sound of distant birds and wind-chimes fills your ears as if you were wearing headphones.

That's when you hear a door hinge creak in the distance—

“Riki?! I don’t have my glasses on, but your bedroom looked oddly tidy and you never tidy your room, so now I’m worried—”

“In a minute, Grams!” Riki called out in a deep voice, resting his hands at his sides as he looked back at you, the elderly woman having stayed outside, keeping to herself.

Despite her few wrinkles, she was a perfect shadow of Riki, from her similarly fierce eyes, the long legs she stood on, to her plump, duck-like lips—

“What’s the deal with your face right now?” Riki asked, drawing your attention back to him.

“Oh, you mean my beauty?” You returned sarcastically.

“No, the other thing,” he corrected, “…made your eyes go all big and bright.”

“Oh… Possibly shock, then?”

“But from what cause?”

“Grams,” you repeated, looking over the balcony at the same shed-door the woman just came from. “I didn’t know you lived with anybody…”

“I don’t; she lives with me,” Riki continued, flicking a mosquito off his arm. “She’s kind of mental, so I gotta take care of her like she took care of me.”

“That’s sweet,” you murmur quietly to yourself, but he hears you anyway-

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing…”

“You definitely said something.”

“No I didn’t?”

“Haven’t I ever told you how terrible you are at lying?”

“No, actually,” you respond plainly, “But you have told me that you think I’m beautiful... well, indirectly, but it still counts.”

He furrows his brows at you. “When did I say that?”

“Literally a few seconds ago?”

“Seriously?”

“Damn… Now I'm starting to think you didn't mean it.”

“No no no, I meant it!” Riki says, raising his voice slightly, “P-probably...”

“Well, thanks anyway,” you return, looking back over the balcony at the sight of his grandmother roaming their garden.

“I think you're beautiful, too, Riki.”

A silence swarmed between you two now.

Not an awkward silence, but a silence nonetheless.

A pleasant peace…

Riki bit his lip to keep himself from smiling, but you had already noticed his expression by now, poking a finger at the apple of his slightly rosy cheek, making him swat your hand away playfully.

“Stop that or I'll bite you,” he threatens.

“But babyyy… you look so cute when you're blushing,” you teased, making the poor boy feel like he was just seconds from internally combusting because of you.

Riki never got worked up over compliments like this, but then again, you proved to have a stronger effect on his emotions… one that even you father could see.

“I seriously will bite you, ____,” he warns again through a contagious chuckles, grabbing a hold of your wrist at the same time your hand gripped his bicep, making him stop in his actions.

You two shyly meet each other's eyes now, faint smiles present on both your faces until you release your grip on his arm, his touch still remaining at your wrist.

“Riki.” You speak quietly, and for reasons you don’t understand at first… but that’s when he decides to speak up instead—

“I wanna show you one more thing,” he starts, still holding your wrist as he steps up with a strong lunge onto the balcony ledge, resting his foot on the wooden plank attached to it.

“Riki, get down from there!” You shout.

“Not until you join me first.” He reasons with a smirk.

Judging from the way he briefly peeks down at the ground beneath him, you can already tell that he wants you to jump with him.

“Riki… I’m not doing that... I-I can't… and I can’t let you do that, either.”

Funny thing is, you said all of this while doing a lunge yourself, joining the tall boy on the balcony ledge and holding his hand tightly as you let your feet find the wobbly plank next.

“Why not?…” He presses.

“Because… you’re all skin and bones, baby,” you sigh nervously, feeling your heart rate increase with every passing second. “I’m afraid that I’ll either hurt you or that you’ll hurt yourself.”

Riki gives you a shady look now. “You have no idea how insulting that is to me, do you?”

“Be careful, asshole!” You shriek, his strength having tugged at your hand, making you tread even further down the plank now.

“Geez, would you relax, drama queen? I’m doing fineee, see? We’re fine… Just don’t let go of my hand until I say so, okay?”

“H-how am I even supposed to trust you in a state like this?” Your voice comes out just as wobbly as you feel in your knees, being sure not to look down as that would only make things worse for you.

“Hmm… not sure,” he shrugs, “But maybe it would help if you stopped policing me for like... one fucking second?”

“Fine. A second has passed, now can we PLEASEE go back to the bridge—ahhh!”

Riki jumps first, but because you were holding hands, you fall with him, tumbling into the grassy pasture before landing on top of him.

“That was fun, right?” Riki asks while scanning your face, wind knocked out of him; he's panting slightly beneath you, chest rising and falling given the rush of adrenaline he just received.

“Are we even alive right now?” You ask back, seriously not being able to believe that you both survived such a fall... everything around you seemed light, and you weren't sure if that had something to do with your head spinning or something worse. “Please tell me this isn’t heaven.”

“Not unless you really think that’s what being on top of me feels like…”

You gave him the deadliest side-eye you could muster—

“Shut the fuck up,” you curse him, making a light chuckle rumble in his chest.

For a brief moment, you look up, just now realizing that Riki’s backpack was scattered among the grass with all of his school supplies decorating the landscape.

Sighing, you planted your palms on the ground before trying to get up, only for the strength of Riki’s arm to keeps you down, fusing your body’s together.

“Riki, the dean's office is gonna be closing soon, we gotta get going-”

“And my future can wait, ____,” he said, looking into your eyes, “just let me enjoy this moment in the present for a little longer, alright?”

You wait to answer before eventually nodding, watching his chest heave slower now, but still in a rising and falling manner.

“You're nervous about something,” you whisper, even though it was more like a question to him.

You felt your stomach flutter at the way his hand was secured at your waist now, trailing up to the side of your face with his other hand.

“I am,” he says plainly, voice deep and vulnerable, “so please, just... don't say anything or else you'll make this worse for me, okay?”

“You're not about to try and kiss me, are you!?” You ask, screwing your eyebrows at him.

“And just like that, you made it worse for me,” Riki sighs, not being brave enough to meet your eyes anymore.

His hands leave your body, falling beside him as if he were about to start making snow angels in the bed of grass.

“You think you deserve a kiss—of all things—after almost getting us killed just a few seconds ago?”

“I meannnn,” he starts, looking back at you now before repositioning his hands behind his head with latticed fingers, “one kiss wouldn't hurt, right?… Maybe even just a few…”

No words are exchanged from this point.

It just becomes a moment of you two looking at each other, your hands roaming up his torso now as you sit up to straddle him, keeping him pinned to the ground with your weight before placing a kiss on his cheek.

“You're a very odd boy, Riki Nishimura,” you say, watching a smile spread across his face as his skin still tingled where you kissed him.

Your hands find his that were tucked beneath his head and put them back around your body like they were before.

“I may be odd, but the least you can do is kiss me normally,” he whispers, taking hold of your face and crashing his lips into yours, eyes fluttering shut at the blissful contact.

And it feels too good to say it's your first time... It feels too right...

You tilt your head to deepen the contact, making him hum beneath you at the sudden way you took control again, feeling his hand gently cradle the nape of your neck.

“Please,” he says breathlessly in between, catching on to the way your body shuddered when his touch went under your shirt, resting at the dip of your waist, “Don't make me stop yet...”

And all you can do is pant in response, feeling your heart rate increase with the passion as his tongue just barely comes into contact with yours, making you melt into the warmth of his lips even more.

But his delicate fingers are cold as they touch you, not necessarily wandering, but inching their way up from your waist to the side of your ribs, only to pull you closer as your bodies meshed into a sprawl of flustered feelings.

“You just can't get close enough to me, can you?” You ask him through a quiet breath, making him chuckle slightly as your catty question.

“Don't rub it in, dweeb,” he replies with a raspy voice, just as a low groan slips past his pretty lips, and you're just now realizing that you were kissing along his jawline, his head thrown back against the grass as your soft lips kept peppering his skin, “I'm actually enjoying what you're doing to me for once...”

And his last sentence comes out so quietly, you otherwise would've missed it if you weren't right by his neck, humming with each kiss you placed against him, making his grip at your waist tighten slightly until you abruptly pulled away, looking back at him with your own fuzzy vision...

Despite that, you could still make out the lovesick expression taking over his gorgeous features, both his heart and mind in a haze as he looked back at you, purity dancing in his eyes.

“W-why'd you stop?” He stammers, almost pouting as a smirk tugs at the corner of your mouth now, your own cheeks being dusted a rosy hue given the blood rushing to your face.

“Because,” you say plainly, crawling off of him now as he lets out an exaggerated sigh, sulking at the missing warmth of you straddling him, “that's all you deserve for the day.”

“And tomorrow?” He presses, eyes half-lidded.

“I'll tell you after we deliver this letter to the dean,” you say, looking up at the window to his house, “and when your grandma isn't watching us...”

“Wait, she's what?”

Riki sits up now, whipping his head almost instantly in the direction of his house to see what you were still blushing about, and it was none other than his grandmother, clapping in the distance at the sight of you and Riki laying beside each other on the grass.

“So that's why you've been tidying up recently; you've met a pretty girl,” she says in an old voice, making him hide his face with his hands while groaning with embarrassment. “Awww, don't be shy; she just had her lips all over you... Oh, and I'm his grandmother, by the way!”

“Nice to meet you,” you say while giggling, watching Riki practically crumble to pieces, knowing that his grandma had just seen everything.

"Well, make sure you two don't stay out too late... it's getting dark,” the woman warned, even though it was still relatively sunny outside.

Must be her vision, you thought to herself.

“Got it, Grams,” Riki sighed, sitting up now with a forced smile as he waved his grandma off, the door creaking behind her as the sound of her television program faded off with the melody of her laughter.

“You good?” You ask, catching on to the way Riki's sight pans off now, a certain thought rising to his mind as he took a few shaky breaths.

“Y-yea, I'm alright,” he answers, not meeting your eyes until he asks, “You didn't bite me, did you?”

His fingers find his neck now, grazing over the light pink spot where you had kissed him, but it was only that color because of your lip balm, not because you bit him.

“I might have nibbled, yes...” You start timidly, trying to hold back a smile at the way his eyes widened now, worried that you might mark him. “Don't blame me though when you started it.”

“No, I didn't, you blood thirsty vampire,” he scoffs with over-exaggerated offense. “There's a mark on me now, isn't there?”

"No, you idiot... Besides, I wouldn't want your grandma to have a hickey as her first impression of me,” you correct, getting up from the ground now to collect his scattered school supplies from around the yard.

Your words lingered in his mind for a bit.

A girl like you leaving a bad first impression? The thought seemed foreign to him, but at the same time, comforting...

He was finally starting to see things the way you saw them. You and him really weren't all that different—just two people from different walks of life, upholding varied reputations, but still and all with kindred spirits.

Spirits for fun and adventure... youth and romance...

“Wasn't even worth it,” you mumbled to yourself, picking up the envelope that was now stained with a bit of dirt given the fall.

“What wasn't worth it?” He repeated, looking over his shoulder to find you on your knees in the grass, hair slightly disheveled from all the action.

“Jumping, first of all... and second, kissing you...”

“Right,” he says while drawing out the syllable, side-eyeing you with his legs crossed, “Because I definitely told you to get on top of me and kiss all over my neck like a human mosquito.”

“Trust me, I regret doing that.” You tease, fake gagging, to which he chuckled at you, “Your lips tasted weird, anyway...”

“Pfft... weird how?”

“Sour,” you poke, making him look down in his lap, smiling at the memory of you two in the hallway earlier.

Eventually, he gets up to help you gather the rest of his textbooks, pencils, notes, and chocolate bars that fell from his backpack, holding it open as you loaded it up and set trail back up the hill you just jumped off of.

“And you're sure this whole letter thing is still a good idea?” He asks, adjusting the strap to his backpack over his shoulder as you two walked beside each other.

You take a second to glance at yourselves, taking in the light of your messy clothes, blushing faces.

"Oh, you’re definitely still sending that.”

“Cool… But should I revise it at all since we have extra time?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” is all you say, taking his hand in yours as y’all walk side by side...

⛓️‍💥 AUTHOR'S NOTE — I've had this fic collecting dust in my drafts since July of this year, but @microwvdstrawb3rri3s reminded me that my blog has been long overdue for a new Niki fic, so I decided to post it finally.... Also, I'm adding a special tag here for @bambangan because I REALLY feel like she‘ll enjoy this fic (considering how Niki's character is pretty similar to how I wrote for him in my Flirty TSA Series a while back 🤭)...

tysm for reading this quick lil fic !! ✗⚬ﾒ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆ and feel free to check out my masterlist for more !!

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @nishiimuranights @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @microwvdstrawb3rri3s

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)

In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.

Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior

[Part 4] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

"Damn it!"

The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.

"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."

You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.

"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"

"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"

"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows. 

"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.

"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.

"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette. 

You swallow. 

Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves. 

"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago. 

"No." 

That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up the tongue.

Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.

Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?

You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess. 

Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick. 

"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."

"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"

You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture. 

"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"

"H-huh? What for?"

You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity. 

"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."

You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.

"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.

"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"

"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly. 

The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery. 

The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.

Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details. 

"Wakasugi has been taken."

A chaotic murmur ensues. 

"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been on their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."

Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh. 

If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family. 

"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching. 

"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds. 

"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.

"What did you say?" 

Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.

"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."

"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.

There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.

"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job." 

He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.

"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.

"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."

The tall yakuza smirks mockingly. 

"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."

Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.

"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him. 

Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.

"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.

"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."

No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.

He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats. 

He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects. 

"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.

If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.

"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."

The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes." 

Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already. 

The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback, and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant. 

"Where's everyone?"

"They ran away."

"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.

"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."

He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.

"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.

"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"

"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."

He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.

"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"

Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"

"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out. 

But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin. 

You grimace a little at the mental image. 

The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.

You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips. 

"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.

"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."

He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.

"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.

So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.

"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."

"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.  

Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie

[safetypinxtales]

Together with you | Azriel

(Lonely with you pt. 2)

summary: heart break sucks. Missing your friend sucks even more. It is mind-blowing what a little open communication can do.

words: 4.1k

warnings: angst with happy ending, terrible communication at parts (sorry), mention of alcohol consumption, fluff, just general misery, neutrally described reader/no reader description, no use of y/n, dumb idiots in love

notes: so this got a lot more angsty than first anticipated, but here it is! Not sure how I feel about it, I like some parts, not so sure about others - feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

part 1

Cold. Your bed was freezing cold. And empty. 

Like lying on a frozen slab of stone, utterly alone and undeniably pathetic. Just as alone and pathetic as yesterday, when you woke up on the couch in the living room. No Azriel in sight. Like he wasn’t the one to practically beg you not to leave him alone, and then he went and did that exact thing to you. 

It was humiliating. You were humiliated.

And that was why you had avoided him like he was contagious for all of yesterday, burying yourself in paperwork or hiding away in the library. But your plan was far from foolproof, you’d barely made it through yesterday without seeing him, so today had to be different. If being close to you was so shameful he had to sneak away before you had a chance to wake, you would simply remove yourself from the situation and spare yourself some Gods damned dignity. 

You had already written to Mor, your excuse of needing to get away from the happily mated couple for a few nights only a half lie. You were in desperate need of a good night’s rest, however that was not the most pressing issue at hand. But there was no need for her to know that. Yet. She would find out eventually, she always did, and you would be stupid to expect otherwise. 

Two hours past sunrise should mean that the Valkyrie training would be full and well underway, and thus it would be safe for you to make your escape. You got the things you’d need and made your way up the stairs to one of the smaller balconies overlooking the training ring. You knew you really shouldn’t, because what good would it do? But you had to. Just a quick glance. Quietly you moved towards the railing, scanning the people below. 

There he was, a thing of graceful, terrifying beauty. He seemed to be demonstrating a movement with a training sword for some of the priestesses. He moved with such fluidity, wielding the sword in his hand as if it was an extension of himself. He was like death on swift feet. A fallen angel, a dark prince. 

He was beautiful.

You must have accidentally made a sound, because his head shot up and his eyes zeroed in on you. Oh Gods. The intensity in his gaze, and the increasing pressure in your chest was too much. He didn’t want you. 

You staggered back, one little step and you had winnowed yourself down to the city streets. This was good, you needed to get away. He left you alone. He drew back first. You knew all of this, so why did it hurt such an unreasonable amount?

You rubbed your chest in hopes of getting rid of the tightness that seemed to have moved in there since yesterday morning, and then you set course towards the one stop you had to make before getting to Mor’s. 

-

It had been three days since you arrived at Mor’s apartment with a paper bag filled with the sweetest, sugar-powdered pastries your favourite bakery had to offer. It had taken you both approximately 20 minutes to devour them all, after which you no longer had anything to distract your friend from digging up the truth behind your visit. 

You were in love with someone who did not harbour the same feelings towards you. And you desperately needed to get away from him, to save what remained of your heart. 

You had cried, drank some wine, and then cried a little more. You went back to the bakery for more pastries the next day, and the cycle repeated. 

The crisp, early-spring wind was a menace today as you were on your, now daily, pastry run. You were trying to stop your hair from whipping around like a being possessed, cursing up a storm, when you heard him call your name. 

You froze to the spot, like his voice was some primal command. That insufferable tightness in your chest was as present as ever as you forced yourself to put on your brave face and turned towards him. 

There he was, jogging towards you, his brow furrowed. 

“Hey,” Azriel breathed as he came to a stop in front of you. His shadows swirled out in your direction, but retracted before they had a chance to reach you. 

“Hi,” you mumbled back, suddenly finding the cobbled street very interesting. 

He cleared his throat and took a step closer. You took one backwards. The cobblestone looks different here than in the alley by the bakery. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while… you haven’t been home – at the House, I mean,”  he coughed lightly. I wonder if it was made with, like, a different technique? Or maybe the stones are just differently shaped or something?

“Yeah, no, I’ve been staying with Mor for a bit.” It’s definitely mossier on the smaller streets, maybe that’s why? It just shifts the perspecti–

“Angel, please look at me.” 

You didn’t want to, Gods you didn’t want to. But alas, you seemed to have no power when it came to Azriel. 

Any other day, the worry swimming in those hazel eyes would have melted your heart. Today, it just hurt. “Did I do something? Is that why you… haven’t been around?” 

You scoff, “No, you didn’t do anything, Azriel. It’s fine.”

“It’s obviously not fine! I haven’t seen you in days, and now you can barely look at me?” He exclaimed, exasperation clear in his voice. “Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped, or made you uncomfortable – but I miss my friend,” his hands twitched where they rested at his sides, shadows swirling around him with unease.

“Oh, please,” his brows furrowed further at the dry laugh that escaped you, “Are you being serious, Az? I fell asleep in your arms, after you pleaded with me to stay with you – and then I woke up alone.” His face fell. “How do you think that feels? I mean, you must know how I feel about you!” You cursed yourself for the way your voice quivered, and that damned burning feeling behind your eyes that you were so sick of.

“What– no, I didn’t– what do you–,” he stuttered. He actually stuttered. The spymaster of the Night court couldn’t even come up with an excuse for being an ass.

“Save it. I get it – you were lonely, we’ve all been there,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself, “I have to go.”

You turned back in the direction of Mor’s apartment, pastries be damned. You just had to get away.

Azriel had other plans though. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, the cool wisps of shadows snaking up your forearm. You couldn’t help the way you recoiled from his touch, how it seemed to ignite every nerve in your arm. 

“Wait–,”

“NO!” A sob wracked your body. “No, just leave me alone, Az. Can’t you tell that you’re hurting me?” His face twisted in time with your words, and tears pricked your eyes. “Being around you hurts!” 

His shadows were whipping violently around him, but he was as still as death itself.  Something like dread and confusion were clouding his eyes.

He called after you as you walked away. But he didn’t stop you, nor did he try to follow you. And you didn’t dare look over your shoulder, too scared you might run back and give him the rest of your heart, shattered as it may be. No, instead you carried the shards in your hands, tears rolling down your cheeks, one after the other. 

You weren’t sure how you were ever going to be okay. 

-

The bedroom door creaked open, and you pulled the duvet further over your head.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Mor said in a sing-song voice. You weren’t sleeping.

“I’m not asleep,” you muttered, huffing loudly at the giggle that escaped her.

“Yeah, well, calling you a crybaby would be insensitive so I went for the next best thing.” 

Her comment made the corners of your lips twitch, and you silently cursed her for always knowing how to cheer you up. You had gotten quite comfortable in your misery.

You pulled the covers down and looked over at where she stood. Your chest grew uncomfortably tight when you saw what was in her hands. 

“Another one?” You asked and rolled over to face the window. You had forgotten how stubborn he was. Competitive bastard. 

“Yes, and they just seem to get bigger and bigger. I like the daffodils in this one though, very spring-esque. The other ones didn’t have any daffodils,” she mused as she walked in and headed towards the far end of the room, most likely towards the dresser. It was the only surface area not currently taken up by a bouquet.

This was the sixth bouquet he’d sent. In three days. He had turned Mor’s guest room into a damn flower shop. Just being in a ten feet proximity of this room would have sent Cassian into a sneezing frenzy.

“Remember that time in Elain’s garden, when you told me daffodils were your mom’s favourite flower? That she called you her little daffodil when she carried you in her womb? They are very beautiful – just like you. 

“Yours, Azriel.” Mor read the note before carefully putting it back with the flowers. 

Every set of flowers had come with its own handwritten note. He had apologised in the first one, the rest told you he missed you, recalling memories of moments you’d shared. Each one ended with a heartfelt compliment, one that brought tears to your eyes every time, without fail.

Mor let out a slight sigh. “I am fully on your side here, and I don’t want to pressure you into anything, but… are you sure you don’t want to talk to him? I know you’re hurt, and you have every right to be, but… he’s a good male and he likes you – a lot.” 

She’s right. You figured that out two days ago. But your pride was wounded, and your trust had been betrayed, and it stung. 

However, somewhere along when the initial pain had started to diminish it had slowly but surely gotten replaced by the agony of missing him. Now you didn’t know what part of the pain came from what, you only knew that it hurt. 

But Gods, you really did miss him – more and more by the minute. You missed him in your bones; your best friend, your partner in crime, the male you loved. 

“Alright, you don’t have to say anything. I have to visit Rhysand to go over some work though, and I won’t be home until late tonight, probably. There is food and tea in the kitchen, or you can go down to the pub downstairs and ask them to make you something. Just… make sure to go there earlier in the evening to avoid drunken idiots, okay?” You rolled over to look at your friend, who once again proved herself to be way better than you deserved. You nodded. 

“Thank you,” you whispered and her lips curved upwards in a soft smile.

“Of course, take care of yourself,” she said, that warm smile still intact as she made her way out of the room, closing the door behind her. 

After dragging out your stay in bed a few more minutes, the thought of a warm cup of tea became too enticing to ignore. Chucking on a thick sweater you dragged your feet out of the bedroom.

Once in the kitchen, you put the kettle on the stove and went in search of some tea. Where was the one Mor made you yesterday? The one that felt like drinking a warm, spiced hug – you needed that one right now. You found it in one of the cupboards just in time for the water to start boiling. So you made your cup of tea, drizzled in a little bit of honey, and walked out to the living room. You had just put your tea down and made your way over to the wall of bookshelves to pick out a new story to escape into when there was a knock on the door.

The way your entire body froze, yet seemed to come alive at the same time, signalled you knew who it was. How your body and soul could possibly know it was Azriel on the other side of that door, you weren’t sure. But alas, as you crossed the living room towards the entryway and tugged the front door open, there he was. 

He looked tired. His eyes seemed uncharacteristically old, his skin dull and the bags under his eyes were undeniable. Despite this he still managed to look as breath-taking as always. 

Those tired eyes met yours, and you swore you felt time stop. He was here. Your Azriel. 

Except he wasn’t yours, was he? A truth that only stung worse when your name fell from his lips. But seeing him here, like this… you could live with never having him, you thought. As long as he was in your life, if only as a friend.

That’s why you breathed out a “hi,”, and opened the door wider, a silent invitation to step inside. His shoulders sagged in relief as he stepped over the threshold.

“Hey,” Azriel whispered on a shaky breath, as you closed the door behind him. You stood in silence for a minute, neither of you apparently knowing what to say.

Azriel was the first to break the silence, “so, uh– did you get the…”. Bouquets is what he didn’t say, but he didn’t have to.

“Yeah, yeah I did,” you mumbled, never really meeting his eyes. “Pretty.”

“Yeah? Okay,” you could see him nodding out of the corner of your eye. “Good.”

You raised your gaze to meet his, and your heart clenched. You just wanted things back to the way they were, you wanted your friend back. Because standing here in front of him, not knowing what to say was awful. So you did the only thing you could think of…

“I miss you.” Your voice wavered more than you’d ever care to admit, but there it was – the truth. 

Azriel’s shoulders visibly shuddered at your confession. “Oh, angel,” it was your time to shudder. “I’ve missed you too, so much. I’m so sorry,” his eyes glazed over as he continued, “but please believe me when I say that I did not know – about how you felt. And maybe that makes me stupid, and blind, and oblivious–”

“No,” you interrupted him, “you’re not any of those things, Az.” His deprecating words wounded you so deeply, a heavy sadness filling your chest. 

“I should have known. I never would have– I wouldn’t have been such a coward if I knew.” You swore you heard the remnants of your heart crack. 

“Azzy…” You stepped towards him and reached up to cradle his face in your hands. His own hands flew up to your wrist and you prepared for him to reject your touch. 

Only he didn’t. 

Instead he gently held your hands in place and leaned into your touch in a manner so tender your breath hitched in your throat. His thumbs swiped across the backs of your wrists.

“I’m sorry, I got all up in my head and I–,” you didn’t let him finish.

“It’s okay Azriel, I forgive you.” His posture straightened a little as you continued, “I’m sorry too.” 

You felt a tear roll down your cheek, and before you could even register it happening, Azriel had pulled you into a hug. He wrapped an arm around your waist, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he held you against his chest. He was so warm, and comfortable, and safe, and one tear became two, became three. All the while, Azriel held you, wings enveloping you in a cocoon as he whispered sweet nothings into your hair. 

After what felt like hours, but was merely just minutes, Azriel dropped his wings from around you and as you felt his arms ease their hold on you, you took half a step back. His hand that had cradled the back of your head now cupped your cheek, the other came to rest on your hip.

You dried your tears, ungracefully wiping snot from your nose, and you once again lifted your head in search of those hazel eyes you had grown so in love with. And as your gazes locked – that’s when you felt it.

Like the snap of a bowstring, dead center in the middle of your chest, that glowing, golden thread locked into place – forever connecting your soul with the male across from you. 

The impact was so intense you staggered back, knocking into the end table behind you. Your hand flew up to your chest, fingers clutching the fabric of your sweater as you tried to make sense of what just happened. 

Azriel is your mate.

Does he know? Does he even want you? A thousand thoughts swarmed your head, but they were all overpowered by one: mate. He was your mate. 

Azriel stood, one arm still partially outstretched, eyes wide and brow furrowed. Something like bewilderment filled you to an overwhelming degree, and it took you a moment to realise that the feelings did not belong to you. They were all Azriel, unable to keep his emotions from bleeding across the bond to you. 

“You’re my–,” you stuttered.

“Yes,” he breathed in response.

“I– I’m your–”

“Yes,”

“You knew?” His eyes shuttered at your question.

“Yes,”

You had to sit down. 

You wobbled over to the couch and dropped down. You didn’t even realise he’d followed you until you felt the seat dip beside you. 

He seemed to realise words were not something currently in your possession, and took it upon himself to start to explain.

“You were sleeping, had been for probably an hour at least, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I have–,” he swallowed and his whole body shook as he professed his next words. “I have been in love with you since the moment I saw you. When Rhysand introduced you to everyone and you were trying to sneak glances at all of us, thinking you were being discreet. You weren’t – quite the opposite actually.” You turned your head to look at him. One of those rare smiles decorated his face as he recalled the memory. “I think everyone noticed, but no one said anything. They were all probably as smitten by you as I was. Not only were you so adorable, you were the most divine female I had ever seen. Your eyes shone so brightly, and you radiated such calmness, such security – like every problem that had ever been wasn’t so bad after all. Like everything was always going to be fine, as long as you were around. You looked heavenly. Like an angel.” He whispered the last part and as his eyes met yours you sucked in a breath at the emotion swimming in them. 

Angel. His dedicated pet name for you. What he had been calling you, and only you, since that very first day. Not only were you the only person with that specific pet name – you were the only one of Azriel’s friend to even have a pet name, you realised. Sure, he referred to Rhysand and Cassian as his brothers. But you were his angel. 

“You love me?” You croaked, fresh tears filling your eyes.

“Yes, I do.” You hiccupped, face twisting as your chest filled to the brim with so many emotions you could not possibly name them all. He took your hands in his, and gave them a light squeeze as he continued, “When we were on that couch I was just… watching you. Holding you. Realising how perfectly you fit in my arms, when you moved. You snuggled deeper into my chest, like being close to me was an instinctual need, and then you sighed, and you smiled in your sleep – and I couldn’t breathe,” he took a deep breath, “that’s when the bond snapped.” You wanted to reach out and smooth out that crease between his eyebrows. Instead you just moved closer to him, pressed yourself into his side, and when he looked down at you, you gave it your best at pushing some of that endless love you held for him down that glittering bond. 

A sharp exhale left his parted lips and he gave your still entwined hands another squeeze. When he looked at you his cheeks were tinged with pink, the tips of his ears flushed. 

He loved you. 

He was your mate and he loved you.

“I was so shocked. Why would it snap now and not earlier?” He shook his head, his eyes not once leaving yours. “Then I started to… doubt myself,” his brows furrowed deeper, “what if you didn’t want me? I didn’t even know if you knew. Knew and… and decided you didn’t want to be with me. The Gods know I don’t deserve you.” 

You couldn’t help the broken whimper that escaped you as you listened to this wonderful male voice how lowly he thought of himself. 

“Don’t say that Azriel,” you croaked, your voice thick from crying. “I love you so much. I look at you and my heart fills to a point where I genuinely think it might burst,” you coughed out an attempt at a laugh. “You are a good male, and I could not imagine a greater honour than the Mother choosing you as my mate.”

A single tear rolled down Azriel’s cheek at your confession. You untangled your hands from his, instead crawling into his lap. This wonderful male, and he was all yours. The love that filled your chest felt so secure, so safe. Like the warmth of the morning sun. Like the smell of freshly baked bread, and early morning bird song. It felt like the beginning of something great. 

You raked your hands through his hair, and as you leaned in to kiss that lone tear away from his jaw, you watched his eyes shutter closed. 

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips, your forehead coming to rest against his, “my mate.” 

His hands found your hips and gripped them tightly, and the touch was more than welcomed. If it was up to you to decide, he would never let you go – forever in each other’s embrace. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered once more, breath hot against your lips. “I shouldn’t have–… please don’t leave me again.”

“Never,” you promised, and then, like waves crashing ashore, you leaned in that last bit and pressed your lips to his. 

His entire body shook beneath you as he reciprocated the kiss, moulding his lips to yours and you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly right it felt. Like coming home. And as your lips moved together that glowing thread became a wild, real, physical thing between you. His hands gripped you tighter, like you were his lifeline. Pulling you impossibly closer, as if you were the air he needed to breathe. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip and your lips parted, letting your tongues meet in the most delicious of ways. 

The kiss was claiming, overpowering and you could not help the whine that escaped you as his fingers dug into your sides. A primal growl rattled deep in his throat, alighting every nerve in your body. 

This.

You wanted to stay right here, just like this, forever. 

-

You didn’t know how long you actually did stay like that – the two of you seemed to, again, be able to defy the concept of time together. But you were now laying on the couch, Azriel’s heart drumming a steady beat in your ear, a warm, overwhelming comfort overtaking your body. 

Slowly, you started to feel yourself drifting off to sleep, and with your head on his chest, his arms around you, the opening and closing of the front door and Mor’s voice that followed, felt so very far away. You almost didn’t apprehend what she said as her voice moved in closer.

“You better not leave her this time,” she ordered, and the rumble of Azriel’s voice, how very safe it made you feel, lulled you deeper and deeper into unconsciousness. 

Your body was impossibly heavy, the words he mumbled into your hair the last thing you registered before sleep claimed you.

“I won't,” he pressed a kiss to your head, “never again.”

tags: @hnyclover @justdreamstars @historygeekqueen @sharknutz @icey--stars @mel-wcst @alysena2 @lewsnumerounofan

[hoe4hotchner]

It's okay if u don't write this since it might be on the verge of angst. But could you write something with preferably fem reader being overwhelmed for some reason so they don't take care of themselves especially their hair and hotch sees them struggeling and offers to help brush it and he's really sweet and some kisses please 🙏

This is much more angsty than I thought I would write it. Reader has long enough hair to get knots and tangles, but otherwise gn and not described.

Knotted mess | [A.H]

WC: 0,6k

Requests are open

           You sat on the bed, staring blankly ahead, the hairbrush heavy in your hand. The overwhelming weight of everything had finally caught up to you. Work, responsibilities, the pressure of keeping it together - it had all drained you. Even the simplest task, like brushing your hair, felt like an impossible challenge.

           Your hair, tangled from days of neglect, hung in limp knots over your shoulders. You'd kept it up for most of the week, hoping your colleagues wouldn't notice how unkempt it had gotten. You felt too exhausted to even try. A part of you wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come. You were just… numb.

           The sound of footsteps approached, and you didn’t need to look up to know it was Aaron. His presence was usually grounding, a quiet power that always made you feel safe, but tonight, you couldn’t even bring yourself to pretend you were okay.

           “Sweetheart?” he asked gently, his voice filled with concern. He knelt down in front of you, his warm brown eyes searching your face. “What’s going on?”

           You shook your head, struggling to find words. “I just… I don’t know. I can’t do it. I’m so tired.”

           He glanced at the brush in your hand, then back at you. He knew this wasn't about your hair. Without saying a word, he reached out, gently taking it from your grasp. “Let me help,” he said softly, sitting beside you.

           You didn’t protest. You couldn’t. You just nodded as he moved behind you on the bed. Gently, he gathered your hair in his hands, carefully working through the tangles with the brush.

           His movements were slow and patient, each stroke of the brush a tender gesture of care. He didn’t rush, didn’t say anything, just let the soft, rhythmic sound of the bristles fill the quiet space between you.

           As he brushed, you felt some of the tension in your shoulders begin to melt. His presence, his gentle touch, was like a cure to your racing mind. You closed your eyes, focusing on the soothing feeling of him working through the knots, each one falling away like a burden you’d been carrying alone.          

           “You’ve been trying to do everything yourself,” Aaron murmured after a while, his voice soft and full of understanding. “But you don’t have to.”

           His words hit something deep inside you, and your breath hitched slightly. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d been holding in, trying to keep it together, trying not to ask for help.

           “I just… I didn’t want to bother you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

           He set the brush down gently and shifted closer, wrapping his arms around you from behind, his chest warm and solid against your back. “You could never bother me,” he said softly, his lips brushing against the side of your head. “I’m here because I love you. Sometimes you have to let me take care of you too.”

           You leaned into him, the dam inside you finally breaking as tears began to spill down your cheeks. Hotch held you tighter, pressing soft kisses to your temple, your hair, your shoulder - each one a quiet reassurance that you weren’t alone.

           After a moment, you turned in his arms, burying your face against his chest as he cradled you. He kissed the top of your head again, his hand stroking your back slowly, comfortingly.

           “You’re always so strong,” he murmured, his voice full of admiration. “But you don’t have to be, not with me.”

           His words, his touch, everything about this moment made you feel like you could finally let go of the weight you’d been carrying. You tilted your head up slightly, meeting his gaze, and without hesitation, he leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

[randombush3]

love's gonna get you killed

alexia putellas x reader

summary: alexia is older, wiser, and trying to make you the best. in doing so, she loses sight of more important things.

words: 5.4k

warnings: it’s a little bit toxic and there’s an age gap

notes: the request for this can be found here. genuinely never flinched more when writing something and this is only the beginning... NEW TRILOGY TIMEEEE

p.s. it's set in two timelines and i hope you clock otherwise this will not make sense

then again, this could've been a fever dream over the past few days soooo

Morning. 

Like dawn; like the freshness of dew on the grass and a light breeze. A thousand suns and the bluest of skies. 

How do you even begin to describe it? 

A spark? 

Yes. It starts with a spark. 

Barcelona play Levante. An away match for the former, but hardly a challenge. Tough games are increasingly difficult to come by with the depth of their squad (and the failings of their league), but Alexia doesn’t mind too much. The break is welcomed with open arms, and she loves nothing more than to crush her opponent. 

She is merciless, but she is never unkind. 

The goals come flowing like an unstoppable river; white-water rapids tearing up the shitty pitch and obliterating the Levante players. Alexia runs to stay afloat, to further prove the excellence of the club she adores, and her buoyancy is mimicked by those of equal skill. 

Weirdly, an intruder survives the flood. 

What was struck off as a clean sheet is flipped on its head; tainted, stained. 

One goal. 

One magic boot, one hero. 

One player saves Levante from losing four to nil. 

The small-ish crowd wildly shouts your name, well-acquainted with screaming those syllables after seeing the swoosh of the white net and the step towards victory. 

Alexia’s eyebrows furrow, although she knows they are not going to lose. It’s frustrating for her, having failed to apprehend a pass somewhere down the line that had connected and connected until it found your feet and soared home. In her head, clouded with pride, it makes no sense. 

Who the fuck thinks they can score against the greatest club in the world? 

(Maybe, thinking about it now, Alexia is a little unkind.) 

The rallying war-cry that she roars catches your smug attention. You’re glad she thinks you’re a threat, even if your team is technically being thrashed.

Somehow, Alexia assigns herself to mark you. The fluidity of Barcelona’s formation allows for the defence to press higher than their manager’s instructions, and, as you are clearly the best Levante has, you are all over the ball; drawn deeper into the action. You almost forget the definition of ‘striker’, too engaged in the midfield. 

You’ll be bollocked for it later, you think when there’s a brief reprieve, the ball rolling out of play for a Barcelona throw-in. You look at the gap you have left in the front line and the chaos you have caused in the midfield, and you try to convince yourself to return to the game-plan. But then there’s Alexia Putellas, her hand pressed against your back, fingers gripping your shirt to stop you from intercepting the bouncing ball as it hurtles towards one of her own. 

Alexia Putellas has a decisive grip on you. She pulls you back, and she makes it seem easy. 

You take one look at her expression, jaw clenched as she concentrates on ripping your team to shreds, and feel the need to roll your eyes.

Her determination to embarrass you is admirable enough. It’s clear that Alexia can’t handle losing in any capacity. It’s clear that she cares. 

She is worried, and that is obvious too. 

She doesn’t let you get very far from her, despite the shouts for extra coverage down the middle. Alexia is clever when it comes to football, and she can smell talent like a blood-thirsty shark. Preoccupying herself with defending meaningless passes that only wind the clock down would be useless; it will always be useless when you are on the pitch. 

Because you’re good. Really good. Young, fresh, talented, and just what the Barcelona squad might need. 

The ball comes to your feet and she is ready to quell the threat. She faces you, her closed defending designed to make you feel caged. However, when the ball slips between her open legs, she is left to catch smoke in the wind, and, though it’s at her own expense, she is impressed. 

Just like that, something ignites. 

...

Alexia wakes up with a low, determined groan. Her alarm is loud and you begin to move in your sleep, distressed by its intense, relentless mission to rouse the entire world. Alexia doesn’t care if you want to sleep in. She thinks you should be foaming at the mouth to train with her today. 

It’s the day after the latest league match. 

Together, Alexia and you scored three shared goals. The connection on the pitch is undeniable, and has been since Barcelona leapt at the chance to sign you at the start of last season. 

She’s an impactful player and is lethal when her passes are fired towards you. 

Days like these are tests. You hear the alarm and know you are waking up beside your captain, not your girlfriend. 

The alarm might as well signify the start of another trial; another exam. Do you want to be good, or the best? Do you know that talent is not everything? 

Whenever the questions appear, more in her eyes than on her sharp tongue, you hold back your remark. It’s the same every time. 

Maybe I don’t want to be the best, Alexia.

Maybe I have more talent than you, Alexia.

Captain Alexia Putellas is easier to shout at than the woman you love. 

...

Levante loses but you do not seem disheartened; you’re only twenty, and there will be many more matches to win in the future. 

You wipe the sweat from your brow, laughing at how some of the Barcelona players grimace as you hold out the same hand for them to shake. They are mostly the younger ones; those you know from the national team. 

They ask you whether you’re going to celebrate your goal later. There’s no real reputation of partying attached to your name, but there is a certain standard that comes with being a young and bright star. Kick-off was early, and it would be a good day to explore Valencia’s nightlife. 

“I’m going home tonight,” you explain pointedly, just to stop them from further taking the piss. 

“No way.” 

“Yeah, we’re having dinner.” 

“You and your family are–?” 

“I’m trying to move past it,” you reply. It’s curt and a clear end to the conversation. The crowd of players disperses soon after and you are following the victors back to Barcelona before you know it. 

A sleek, black car picks you up from the station with more than the necessary fanfare. The driver’s window rolls down, revealing an unfamiliar face; dark sunglasses, starch-ironed shirt. 

“You’re new,” you mutter to the driver as you slide into the backseat. He remains silent. “Where did the last one go? It hasn’t been that long.” He couldn’t have died or anything, you’re sure of it. 

It has only been, what, four years since you were last here? 

Your parents divorced when you were seven. Like most cases, you were caught in the crossfire, but that was hardly traumatic enough. 

They were liberal and believed in your emotional capacity with slightly more vigour than it deserved. They told you all the gory details: who slept with whom; who should go to Hell. 

The most gruesome part was the debate about who should keep you. It was a bloody battle, but not a choice a seven-year-old was able to make. And your father, the pathetic man he had become, bowed out after a month, fucking right off to Munich with a new job and bitterness in his heart that led him to vow to never, ever be in contact with you again. He lost and he chose to keep on losing. 

Fatherless, it was easy to attach yourself to the man your mother began to rebuild her life with. He was caring and he made your spiralling mother happier, funding lavish shopping trips and holidays. 

You moved into his house in the most affluent part of Barcelona – that was home, even if it didn’t quite feel like it. 

But you grew older, and so did the wonderfully in-love couple. Your father’s nose moulded itself onto your face, and his eyes grew more prominent whenever your mother tried to converse with you. It haunted her, your likeness, and it was unsettling to the man who wanted a family of his own. 

There was an easy route to rid themselves of you: boarding school in the US. You cried, riddled with homesickness, every night for months, while they procreated as though they had no pre-existing child. Soon came twins; a mix of their own, a family of their own. 

So they became four, and, at sixteen, you became one; emancipated and ready to train in the Wolfsburg academy, having progressed quite well through the years at school (earning your call-up to Spain’s youth teams, winning a few medals, showing off what you considered the talent that made your existence worthwhile – the usual). 

“Hi,” you say as the door to the mansion swings open. The marble floors are vaguely familiar, but the two boys peering at you behind the housekeeper are not. “Is, um, dinner ready yet?” 

...

With the alarm still blaring, Alexia runs a warm hand down your bare back, calloused fingers pressing into the divot of your spine. It is always like this with her: one thing said by her actions, another by her mouth. The nature of the message flips and switches as she pleases, but she never seems to be entirely able to make up her mind. 

You sigh into the pillow, burnt by the flames left in the wake of her touch. “I’m tired.” The sound is muffled but clear enough to slowly tick down the seconds until the bomb explodes. “I’m tired from last night, Ale. From the match and, you know…” 

She shuts the alarm off. It’s an hour earlier than what it needs to be, but once upon a time, there was a reason for that. 

You catch a glimpse of the past behind your closed eyes as you feel her weight shift on the bed, legs straddling your hips as the sheets are pulled down to expose more of your bare skin. Her hands traverse your body, pressing into the muscles of your back with too much pressure and none at all. She is a lead weight and she is a ghost. 

She is full of contradictions. 

“You need to come with me today.” She grazes over a purpling bruise, inflicted by her own ravenous mouth. You hiss in pain, but it is forgotten the minute her lips kiss the crime scene with something almost apologetic. 

“Baby, I’m too tired to train.” 

“Your passes were sloppy.” Kisses trail across the backs of your shoulders, the base of your neck, the middle of a canvas she wants nothing more than to wreck over and over again. “And you were lucky to scrape your goal.” Her teeth sink into your flesh experimentally; the sharp pain gone before you begin to process it. “It was a beautiful goal, though. You looked beautiful scoring it.” 

You groan, your body arching involuntarily into her touch, pulled in by something stronger than your will. Alexia is intoxicating; Alexia clouds your mind. “I missed that shot,” she continues, dangerously close to anger. “Your fault.” 

“How was it–” You whimper as she targets the knots in your back. “How was it my… my fault?” 

Her fingers dig into the tightness of your muscles, unaffected by how you tense beneath her. They are sore, but it is more than that. 

Alexia has trapped you, and you are at her mercy. 

It sends shivers down your spine. 

“Because,” she whispers, her breath hot against your ear, “I was too busy watching you. You’re such a fucking distraction, you know.” 

“Ale…” 

Her laughter is musical but plays a haunting melody that prickles the hairs at the back of your neck. “Don’t be so desperate,” she purrs, her hands roaming lower with a searing heat behind them. “I missed a hattrick because of you, and it was pathetic.” 

You whine. 

“Tell me what you need, and maybe I’ll give it to you.” 

Your breath hitches, the words caught in your throat. She knows exactly what she’s doing, how to unravel you piece by piece until you’re begging for her. 

She loves it when you beg. 

“I…” You’re not a stranger to demanding things. You’re not pathetic, you’re not. “You. I need you.” 

“Good girl,” she murmurs, rewarding you with a kiss that sears your skin. Her hand slips lower, teasing the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, making you gasp. “But you have to earn it. You can’t afford to make the mistakes you made yesterday again.” 

You’re no longer listening. It’s not what you want to hear.

...

Unwelcome is the word that first springs to mind.

There is a long, mahogany trench table set, looking unnatural with the five places that throw the balance off. As though to emphasise your differences, you are ushered to the head of the table by the housekeeper, your half-brothers hesitating at the open doorway of the dining room, almost afraid to be alone with you. 

You remember being told your mother had given birth by the housemistress at school. She’d offered to see if you could get on a flight home, but no request for your presence had come; the hint had been received loud and clear. 

If they didn’t want you, you didn’t want them. 

But you don’t miss the shirt one of the boys is wearing. 

“Where’d you get that?” you ask curiously, encouraging them to approach with a tight-lipped smile. The one dressed in a Levante shirt looks at the other. 

“It’s his,” they say at the same time. It’s a little creepy. 

“Papa wouldn’t let us get your name, but that’s what we wanted.” 

“You guys like football?” you ask, forcing a casual tone. 

They nod enthusiastically, thumbs poking into their chests as they state their positions and opinionated ranking on the local team. “We get our teammates to watch your highlights. We’re gonna see you at Barça next season!” 

“How do you know I’m going to Barça next season?” you tease. “Because I didn’t even know that.” 

“Papi’s friends with Sr. Laporta, tonta.” Frowning, you grow less amused of the tidbit. Maybe your stepfather feels guilty. Maybe he wants to give your career an unnecessary helping hand. But you’d rather be sent into the Queen’s League than sign because of your connections.

Despite the tension hanging in the air, you lean back in the chair, trying to ease the stiffness in your shoulders. The eyes of your half-brothers flicker between you and the table. You’re a stranger to them, and their apprehension is understandable. It stings, but it isn’t your fault. 

The housekeeper returns, clearing her throat to interrupt the stilted silence. “Dinner will be served shortly,” she announces, her eyes avoiding yours. You scrutinise her, trying to remember whether she was there when you were first sent away. Is she new? “Boys, why don’t you fetch your father from his study?” 

Emboldened by the prospect of their escape, the one in a Levante shirt steps forward. “Can we play after dinner?” 

Before you can answer, a familiar voice interrupts. "Boys, give your sister some space." They are scurrying away in an instant. 

You look up to see your mother standing in the doorway, her expression stern. There's an awkward pause as she takes a seat at the other end of the table, her eyes never meeting yours.

"Good to see you," she says, her tone clipped. You nod, acknowledging her presence without offering a response. “I was surprised to hear you were coming. Have you run out of money?” 

“I have money.” 

"Then why now?" she presses, her eyes still avoiding yours. The question hangs in the air as you take your time to answer it. Past arguments seep into the room, and, despite the large windows and high ceilings, you feel trapped. 

You take a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. "I wanted to see my family," you say, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. 

Your mother's lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, you think she might actually say something kind. But instead, she shifts her gaze to the polished surface of the table. "Well, here we are," she says, her tone flat.

...

There is something about the soft way Alexia cares for you that keeps you by her side. She’s not a bad person, and she is sorry when she is mean. You can be worse, so, really whose fault is it? Sometimes you provoke her. 

None of that matters now, though. Not in the airy space after sex and before the world begins to turn again. The sun is beginning to rise now, bathing the room in fresh light that must unsettle your girlfriend. She is trying to calm herself down, lying beside you to regain her strength before she will haul you both up. 

If you hadn’t wanted to train, you should never have spoken this morning. 

Your fingers draw lazy patterns on her stomach, nails grazing up and down tanned skin as you trace out words you cannot bring yourself to say. In this moment, everything feels perfect. You’re not sure whether your mind is still clouded with desire, but you have to close your eyes to stop tears from falling. 

“I love you,” you whisper, voice barely audible. 

“I love you too,” she replies.

It’s easy to say it because it’s true. 

It’s true because Alexia has been there for you like no one else. 

Your whole life has felt like a terminal at an airport. Everyone around you has their own emotions about their own adventures, and the crowd rushes to various gates – various destinations – with urgency you have never sought, nor found. You often stand in the middle of the bustling, bumbling mass of people, head in your hands, wondering why they seem to know where life is taking them. 

When you signed for Barcelona, it was a surprise. You hadn’t believed your little brothers when they had let it slip, and you were certain your worth was going to be exploited in another league – maybe you’d go back to Wolfsburg, maybe you’d explore abroad. Maybe your mother sending you away was a good thing, because it proved that Spain wasn’t your home. 

Sure, you held the passport and spoke the languages, but… but maybe you didn’t belong. 

Then came Alexia, who told you the opposite of what you were starting to live by. 

Alexia – older, wiser, with a clear head on her shoulders and a drive like no other – wanted you to stay, wished you’d see yourself for what was so clearly in front of her eyes. You knew you were talented, but she knew you could be the best. 

Just like she was. 

Because Alexia was aware of the intricacies of ageing, of how experience was not going to be her saviour in the very end. She was focused on a legacy: her brilliance would live on in you. 

She loved you for it. 

She loves you still. 

You can feel her heartbeat, steady and reassuring. Dawn casts shadows across Alexia’s features, hiding the dark circles under her eyes in a bath of dim grey. She smiles, and the tenderness in her gaze is reserved for you, reserved for moments like these. She reaches out, fingers brushing your cheek gently. 

“We should get up,” she murmurs. 

You nod, knowing she’s right. Alexia is always right; you’ve learnt that over the years you have been together. “Just a few more minutes,” you mumble back anyway. 

Hands slide over your waist, pulling you into her body. Her laugh is quiet and giggly, full of love and fondness for a sentence she had predicted you’d say. “Okay,” she agrees. “So we’ll do three hours today, not two. Yeah?” 

...

The dinner doesn’t last very long for you, although that may be because you make it painfully clear you want to leave after the first course. Your stepfather catches on – you question if he had been hoping for this – and jumps at the chance to drive you to a high-end restaurant in central Barcelona that he is sure you will enjoy. 

He knows the chef, he says. He’ll wave money in your face and pretend that it makes these things forgivable. 

You’re hardly arguing though, so there’s not much room for complaint. 

The restaurant welcomes you into the cocktail bar, having awaited your arrival after being enticed by the name of the credit card attached to the tab. Your stepfather is well-known around these parts, and although the notion of a fifth member of his perfect family has been obscured for a long time, there is a shared surname between you and your little brothers that offers you half a place in this small shroud of gente rica. 

Sitting alone at the bar, you order a martini. The glass is cold against your fingertips, and a shiver runs down your spine despite the warmth of the busy restaurant. It’s loud here, with every table full of happy, wealthy patrons who do both business and pleasure all at once, but you feel distant, disconnected. 

You don’t belong here. 

It’s a struggle of yours. 

You never seem to belong anywhere; always an afterthought, always an add-on. 

There is no space that is moulded to fit your body, no path that has been carved out solely for you. (Or, if there is, it is really fucking hard to find.) 

Football is sort of your thing, but the whole nature of professional sport is to fight hard so you don’t get replaced – therefore implying that no one is inherently one-of-a-kind. 

Sometimes, you convince yourself that that isn’t what you want, but that is a lie. Everyone wants to be unique. Everyone wants to be loved for who they are. 

A tap on your shoulder pulls you out of your self-damning thoughts. 

“Are you alone?” 

You turn to find Alexia Putellas standing beside you, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and something else you can’t quite place. It seems she is more surprised to see you here than you are to see her, but she swallows her comment to look you up and down. 

Her scrutiny is intimidating. Maybe that is how you are supposed to feel, maybe that is what she wants. After all, the intensity of the match still lingers in your aching muscles, and seeing her now, out of the context of football kits and harsh tackles, is almost surreal. 

“Alexia, hi,” you say, forcing a smile. 

She repeats her question firmly, concern knitting her brows together. She’s wearing makeup, but you decide she doesn’t need it. 

Alexia is really pretty. You get lost on your way to answer her. 

She places a hand on the same shoulder she tapped, unaware of how your skin sizzles because of her touch, fearing you will run away from her. You have a skittish look about you, she’s noticed, and, for some reason, she wants you to stay put. 

“Come, sit.” Her hand waves in the direction of her table, filled with women around her age who must be her friends. A part of you finds it unfair that Alexia appears to have friends because someone once said sacrifices are the bricks that pave the way to success, but you put it out of mind to deal with politely declining her invitation.

Your hesitation only seems to spur her on, however. 

“You remind me of me, you know.” Your martini glass is empty, and her nose wrinkles with disapproval. 

“I do?” you ask, interested in what similarity she is going to draw between you. 

She holds up two fingers to the bartender, mouthing her order with a small smirk, before looking down at you from where she stands and you sit, inspecting your face. Her fingers gently wrap around your chin, and she tilts your head upwards. “You have that look in your eyes.” 

Laughter rings out from her table, followed quickly by calls for her to return to her meal. She ignores the noise, focused entirely on you. 

Alexia tries to suppress her thoughts of how beautiful you look – how ruggedly captivating, how… enticing – and she is sure she is successful. 

Until you lick your lips and ask her to elaborate. 

She is silent for a moment. 

It’s the first time someone has made you feel like nothing and everything all at once; like the brightest star in the galaxy, like an unused lump of clay. Like you are both wondrous and plain. Exceptional and just like everyone else. 

Alexia’s and… not. 

You are completely at her mercy. 

You agree to join her and her friends for dinner. 

As you approach the table, the group welcomes you with warm smiles and a polite interest in who you are. Alexia’s introduction makes you blush as she details your goal and the success attributed to you at such a young age (she emphasises that part for her own conscience), and it is only a moment before you settle into an empty seat beside her, somehow put at ease. 

The conversation resumes its flow, light and lively, but Alexia is distracted from the discussion of their next holiday. She has questions, many of them, and she figures you are detached from the Catalan they speak in and are silently begging for a language you do understand. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Alexia murmurs in Spanish, leaning in a bit closer. “Figured you’d, you know, be licking your wounds in Valencia.” 

Two drinks are delivered to your table; one for you, one for Alexia. She watches your lips as they part to take a sip, pinching her own thigh when she catches herself. 

“I used to play for Levante,” she continues as you stoically nurse your drink. “When I was younger, Barça sent me off to get some experience. They called me back soon enough.” 

“I never played for Barça.” She raises her eyebrows in surprise, more so for your assumption of her assumption than anything else. You notice her expression. You laugh and Alexia finds she’s quite a fan of that sound. “I’m from Barcelona, Alexia. I speak Catalan and everything.” 

“You don’t sound–” 

“My stepfather has a house in Sarrià and told me to fuck off to boarding school when I was younger. So I went to America and I had to do Spanish classes, and ‘cause I’d renounced my family, it was like learning Castellano all over again.” 

“Like a madrileña,” Alexia finishes off, amused. “Boarding school, eh?” 

“Lost my parents, lost my accent. Childhood of dreams,” you respond sarcastically. “I’ve just come from a family dinner, actually. I left after the starter because… well, it fucking sucked seeing my mother pretend–” You hold your tongue, embarrassed. “Sorry, I don’t mean to dump it all on you. The martini’s loosened my lips.” 

Your laugh this time is self-deprecating and a little painful to hear. Alexia shakes her head and is about to encourage you to carry on, when she catches the heat rising to your cheeks and wonders whether that would be for the best. Instead, she thinks you might prefer to hear something else. “How about another drink after you’re done with that?” 

The rest of the night is a blur. 

Alexia is torn between wanting to impress you and wanting to protect you. She doesn’t know which to follow: the reasonable responsibility drilled into her head, captain of Barcelona, captain of Spain… or the pulse between her legs that grows stronger every time her gaze falls to the low-cut top you’re wearing. It’s this desire that must destroy her judgement, and, after you have insisted on paying for the meal with your stepfather’s credit card, Alexia finds herself having to text the younger girls at Barça to see if any of them can come get you. 

Pina’s busy, Cata’s out with her friends, and Jana claims she’s emetophobic. 

Briefly, Alexia wonders if she imagined you being friends with any of them, but, at the end of the day (or beginning – as it is rapidly approaching tomorrow), she really does have to take you somewhere. She won’t let your half-catatonic body lie on the streets of Barcelona, and so she hauls you into a taxi and waves goodbye to her friends. 

“Interesting recruitment method for the B team,” jokes one of them as they disperse. “Wait, sorry. You waxed lyrical about her tonight enough for me to know that she’d be on the first team with you.” 

“Her contract must be in the works,” Alexia agrees, choosing to ignore the saccharine tone such a compliment was voiced with. “I swear, she’s going to be the best.” 

You’re not paying attention to any of this, of course, too busy pressing your hand against the glass of the taxi’s window, giggling every time you imprint the shape of your palm. “Alexia!” you call out, wanting her to share your enjoyment. “Alexia, look!” 

She turns to look at you, her stern expression softening when she sees how your eyes have lit up. She can’t help but smile at the innocence of your little game, and if the taxi driver raises his eyebrows in the rearview mirror, Alexia chooses not to notice. 

“Very impressive,” she says, cringing at how she sounds like she is soothing a child. You seem even younger now, especially when your ears perk up as she speaks in Catalan, a picture of something you confessed to have lost years ago. 

It’s a horrible conflict to have brewing inside of her, and she shakes her head, trying to clear it. Her composure becomes harder to maintain with you being pressed up against her in the backseat, but all thoughts she has are thrown into a deep, dark ditch that she decides to deal with at a later date. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, your voice slurred and eyes wide with curiosity.

“My place,” comes the simple reply. It’s the only option left. She knows she can make sure you’re safe, and, besides, the idea of you at her place feels comforting, as though it were not supposed to be any other way.

When the taxi finally pulls up outside her apartment building, Alexia pays the driver and helps you out of the car. You falter like a newborn foal learning to walk, and she encourages you to lean heavily on her so that the journey inside will be quicker. The walk to her door feels longer, and each step is tentative as she continues to debate her decision. 

But she’s going to care for you. That’s all. 

You marvel at her apartment, which shocks her after she has learnt about your childhood, but she takes the compliment and guides you to her bedroom under the guise of giving you a ‘tour’. The spare bedroom is unusable, seeing as the bed has become the latest storage cupboard for her boxes of awards and PR packages, so, again, this is the only option. 

You collapse unceremoniously onto her mattress with a loud sigh. 

Alexia stands there for a moment, watching as you settle into her bed. As much as responsibility and protectiveness hangs over her head, she also feels something much deeper inside of her beginning to swirl into a storm. She’s not ready to acknowledge it yet. 

Taking a deep breath, she glances at you once more. “You need to rest.” Her voice carries the authority of the woman she is; a woman who is much older and wiser and who has more power than ethical to be feeling any kind of attraction towards you. Her hand hovers over you, brushing a stray hair from your forehead. The warmth of your skin under her fingertips sends a jolt through her, but she quickly pulls her hand back, focusing on her current task.

“Thanks, Alexia,” you mumble, already half-asleep. 

After that close-call, she rights herself, looking around her room for a moment before heading to the kitchen to fetch you a glass of water. She places it on the bedside table, knowing you'll need it in the morning, not wanting to wake you up to drink it now. She then finds a spare blanket and a pillow, setting up a makeshift bed for herself on the sofa in the living room.

Exhausted from the day, she expects to fall asleep quickly, but she is tortured by the same question, over and over again. 

How the fuck did she get here? 

[bizbat]

HEYY!! What about Jaybird with an s/o whos also a vigilante and she’s like super serious and quiet, Her outfit for fighting is like super duper revealing aswell so add nsfw :3

(If ur comfortable with it!!)

It's The Suit

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Jason Todd x Fem!AFAB!Reader

~ Explicit Smut

~ Reader is mentioned to have "plush thighs", but appearance is otherwise not described.

~ Wc: 2.4K

~ You can find more of my works here.

C/W: Smut, Pet names (Angel, Doll, Slut, Baby, Princess) Mdom, Groping, Light Choking, Spit, Creampie, Cunnilingus/Analingus (Jason eats it from the back) Use of the terms "cunt", "mound", "tits", "slutty", "pussy", Pussy Smacking, Public Sex, Begging, Pussyjob

There's just something about that suit . . .

"You know, you are technically on my turf." His voice is crisp in your ear. It seems he only ever puts what Batman taught him to use when he wants to mess with you. "If you were anyone else I'd have dropped you off Gotham Bridge by now."

"How sweet . . ." You respond in a monotone voice. You're laid on your stomach, perched on top of a building with a set of binoculars in front of your face. You're more focused on the perp you've been trailing all week than your . . . boyfriend? Friend with benefits? Guy you sometimes go out to eat with, and have sex with regularly? Doesn't matter, you're doing your best not to pay any attention to him.

"Are you sure you're not cold in that thing?"

You wish he would do the same. He knows how much comments about your costume bother you, but he can't help it! It's just a little thing, barely big enough to hide, well, anything really. He can't tell you how many times he's seen it ride up between your cheeks, or be so taut against your body that he can see your nipples poking through on extra cold nights. Not to mention the cutouts on your sides and chest.

If it was made out of any other material you could probably wear it to a club and leave with a couple hundreds stuffed in it.

He's already reaching for your body before he even realizes it. It's too late to stop now, his hands are already stroking their way up from your calves. It's frankly beyond him at this point. "It's just so . . . tiny."

"Everyone always says that." You squirm, your leg subconsciously kicking up when he brushes over that sensitive spot on the back of your knee. "Black Canary basically wears the same thing, and no one ever says anything about her suit." You mumble, still not turning to face him. Jason can't help but be amused by your response. "No, she doesn't, and yes, they do." He presses his thumb into your skin, massaging the tense muscles beneath his gloved fingertips.

"Jay, I-I have to fo-" "Shhh, I know, I know," You try to push his hands back, your skin becoming more and more sensitive the higher he gets. It doesn't help that he's applying the perfect amount of pressure. "Just . . . focus baby, alright? Focus for me." It's hard to do what he says when he's slipped off his helmet and is now pressing feathery kisses to your exposed skin.

Still though, you try, pulling the now discarded binoculars back to your face and hoping he decides to cease his ministrations. Unfortunately for you, he's got no plans to stop any time soon. "What's he doing, baby?" His hands inch closer and closer to the dip between your legs, his hands squeezing and tugging at the fat of your upper thighs. "Tell me." He says sternly.

Your hands clench around the binoculars. You have to take a few breaths to calm yourself enough to answer him. "He-he's ah-" His thumbs are working their way under your suit, teasingly stroking your lips. "He's leaving n-now, probably headed-Jason!" He laughs again, he knows he's been pushing it. "What, doll? What's wrong?" He says, as if he didn't just have his face between your thighs, his lips gently kissing your pussy through your suit.

"I told you to focus," He says with a smirk, his hips almost grinding into the concrete below him. "Don't you worry 'bout what I'm doing, yeah?" He only continues, two of his fingers brushing against your mound as he plays with the band of your suit, tugging it away from your heat so he can get better access. Try as you might, he pokes at your folds with his tongue, the wet muscle barely dancing against your lips.

You can't stop your hips from swaying back to meet his face, begging for him to use more pressure. The tips of Jason's ears burn at your tiny gasps, the cute little noises only encouraging him to try and make you louder. His hand, the one not tugging at your suit, begins its attack on your ass, grabbing and squeezing your soft, doughy flesh. By now you've completely lost sight of the guy you were trailing, your hips chasing his face.

You moan his name, the binoculars once again thrown to the side, as you rise to your knees, your chest still parallel to the concrete roof beneath you. "Ohh, that's it angel," Jason finally stops toying with the stretchy fabric of your suit, pulling it to the side of your ass so he can finally see all of you. "Such a pretty pussy. So wet for me." He sticks his tongue out, pressing it flat against your folds, before licking a stripe all the way up to your asshole, circling it with his tongue.

He shallowly wriggles his tongue inside, just deep enough for you to reach back and push at his head with a whine. He laughs, lightly smacking your ass before kissing the puckered hole, and lowering his head back down to your pussy. "Alright doll, I get it, I get it." He uses two of his fingers to spread your lips, putting your dripping cunt for him.

He kisses you there too, before winding back and spitting a fat (unnecessary) glob of spit directly onto your clit. He works too well, sucking and licking exactly when and where you need him to, his pace slowly speeding up. The way he moans into you, it's as if it's just as pleasurable for him as it is for you. And it must be, the way his cock is straining against his zipper like this. God, you've got no idea what you do to him, especially in that tiny, slutty little suit of yours.

And dear God, he starts using his fingers, and your vision blurs and your back arches even deeper. Your chest heaves as he pumps his fingers in and out, curling against your g spot everytime, all while his tongue still swirls against your clit, flicking and circling the perky nub. Your hand finds its way into his hair, your fingers curling around the inky locks as he drinks up your juices. Jason groans at the feeling of your slick practically pouring down his chin.

It's a wonder how he's even able to breathe, his face so deep between your plush thighs. Not like he cares, though, if he could choose a way to go out again, it'd be with his face buried deep in your cunt. He's in heaven, he swears it. He can hear the sound of those pearly gates opening, though that might just be the sound of your sweet, sweet broken moans. That, combined with a lack of oxygen. Besides that, you can't tell him he's not eating out an angel right now.

Eventually though, he rips himself away, loudly sucking air into his lungs so he doesn't actually go to heaven. He curses his body for needing air to breathe. Maybe he can use "increasing his lung capacity" as an excuse to eat you out later, not now though. Right now, his cock is so painfully hard from being neglected, he's struggling to form proper thoughts.

"You ready for me, doll? S' this slutty pussy ready to take me?" He asks, ripping off his belt and shoving his pants down just enough for his cock to spring out. With the amount of spit and slick dripping down your thighs, it's a stupid question, but he absolutely refuses to fuck you unless you say you're ready for him. Part of you thinks its a consent thing, which is great, more guys should be like that, but part of you knows it's because he wants to hear you, little Ms. Stoic, begging for his cock.

You're on the verge of tears, your eyes completely unfocused at the feeling of his fat tip smacking against your weeping cunt. "Jay," You moan, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Jay . . ." He shakes his head. He's losing his mind, but the small bit he's still clinging onto won't let you get away with that, he's gotta make you beg for him. "C'mon, slut, I know you can do much better 'n that." He ruts against your cunt, his cock hard and red from waiting.

He smacks your ass again, hypnotized by the way it jiggles beneath his palm. Precum oozes deliciously from his tip, adding even more lubrication to your already soaked hole. He could cum just from the sight of your pretty lips glistening under the moon light and street lamps. He's so close to just giving in and making both of you feel good, when he hears your voice breaking through his clouded thoughts.

He feels like he's got water in his head, though your little "Please uck me Jay, need your cock," is loud and clear. Without further stalling, he lines his aching tip up with your hole, awestruck at the way it clenches around nothing, before he finally sinks in, after what felt like hours and hours of foreplay. You almost collapse, the only thing preventing your hips from dropping to the side is Jason's firm grasp on your suit, using the cutouts on your side as leverage to pull you back against him.

Even through all the wetness, he stretches you out, his cock filling you up so perfectly it makes your eyes roll back into your skull. Jason's head lolls back, a deep groan escaping the bottom of his chest at the feeling of your tight, slick walls gripping his cock. "Fuckin' perfect," He doesn't waste any time, his hips slowly moving to drag his cock back and forth inside you, his tip catching along your walls.

He's mindlessly babbling at this point, cooing about how good you feel, about how you were made for his cock, his hands white-knuckle gripping your suit. He speeds up, his cock tapping against your cervix in a way that has your stomach doing flips. "Faster Jay! Please, please please!" You pant, your ass bouncing against his pelvis as your hips chase after his.

How could he deny you when your voice is like honey in his ears, and your skin feels like silk. He feels his balls tighten at your moans, his body physically reacting to your sobs, your pleads. You've got no idea what it does to his ego, to hear his favorite, icy, little princess crying for his cock. Or at least, what it would do for his ego if he wasn't solely focused on cramming every inch of his cock deep inside your tight heat.

He thrusts faster, his tip smacking rhythmically against your cervix at a bruising pace. "So fuckin' messy, this pretty pussy's so fuckin' messy," He huffs, his chest tightening with every stroke as he feels your gummy walls closing around him tightly. Without even thinking about it, he reaches down and frantically rubs at your clit, already sensitive from his mouth. "Shit, baby, ya' close?" He pulls out without warning, flipping you over onto your back and pushing your knees up to your chest, before sinking back inside you.

"Can feel ya, ngh, feel so fuckin' good." He ends each sentence with his cock. He holds your legs down with his broad shoulders, his chest pressed against yours. One hand reaches back down to rub at your clit again, his ears ringing with delight at your moans. "Shit, shit, shit, shit," He huffs against your ear. "So close baby, so close." He nips and licks at your neck, his teeth occasionally tugging at your earlobe as his orgasm looms closer and closer.

Your tears run down either side of your pretty face, your skin so hot you're almost steaming in the cool Gotham air. You're just as gone as he is, if not more, your arms limply draped across your face as you mindlessly take all the pleasure he gives you. "Want-want it, Jay," You coo in his ear, or at least you think you do, your mouth is open but you can't tell if any words are actually coming out.

"Cum for me baby, let it out, need you to cum." He's begging you, his fingers losing any type of rhythm and structure, his hand grinding down desperately against your poor, tired nub. Is he crying? He feels something wet on his face, but he can't tell if it's from you or him. You aren't too far from him, lightheaded from the force of your legs pressed to up your neck.

You just need a little more, just a little more, you can feel it. You're right there, right there, right there! Are you yelling? Whatever. Your orgasm hits you so fast and so hard you're pretty sure you black out for a second. You feel like you're on a boat, the warm sun shining brightly on your skin, your body gently rocking along the tide. The waves speed up, but you're mostly numb by now, the heavy crashing barely disturbing your peaceful state of mind. The only reason you're brough out of your delusions is because you can feel something against your lips.

Your vision clears, though it's still a bit hazy. Jason's still on top of you, his eyes nearly cross as he peppers sloppy, wet kisses along your face, not even conscious enough to aim for your mouth as he begs you to cum, not realizing you already have. He's so used to making you cum first that his body won't even let him cum until he knows you have. That, of course, doesn't do him much good when he's not cognizant.

Realizing as much, you use the small amount of strength you have left in your face to hold his face still, pulling him close enough to press your lips to his. He thrust a few more times, before his hips still inside you, his thick, warm seed spilling out and staining both of your clothing with white. Sweat drips down his forehead, soaking his hair and tantalizingly trickling down his neck. He leans back, allowing your legs, which are completely useless by now, to slip off his shoulders, before he finally collapses on top of you.

You cradle his head in the crook of your neck, silently brushing the hair along his neck with your fingers, as you both rest in one anothers embrace. When your brain starts working again you'll chew him out for ruining your stakeout. For now, you'll settle with a raspy sigh. "You always do this." You sound more annoyed than you are.

He shrugs, dead serious with his response, his head still resting on your shoulder. "It's the suit, not my fault."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Duck on a String II

Jessie Fleming x Child!Reader

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Summary: Uncle Magda gets you a duck

When Mama is busy doing things for the Blue Team, you get to hang out with your auntie and uncle.

Auntie Pernille and Uncle Magda always take you to the park to feed the ducks, even when it's raining like it is now.

Auntie Pernille pulls up your duck coat and Uncle Magda flips up your hood so you can look like a real life duck.

"Uncle Magda!" You squeal as she pulls the hood down to cover your eyes.

"Huh? Did someone say something? I thought I heard something."

"Uncle Magda!" You say again but she keeps looking around in confusion.

"I could have sworn I heard someone say my name. But I'm auntie Magda so I must have misheard."

You puff out your cheeks in annoyance. Uncle Magda is silly sometimes. She thinks she's an auntie like Pernille is an auntie but that's not true. Niamh once told you that Magda gives off dad vibes so you're pretty sure that makes her your uncle.

It's silly for her to think otherwise.

It hardly matters though because auntie Pernille rescues you from her teasing by picking you up so you can finally leave the house.

There's a lake at the park near the house with lots of ducks and swans. You don't quite like swans as much as ducks but they're still cool and you still feed them.

Auntie Pernille holds your hand as you throw duck feed off the jetty towards the waiting ducks.

Uncle Magda would usually stand on your other side but she slipped on the lake bank and fell into the bushes earlier so she's trying to dry off further away.

"Auntie Pernille," You giggle when you've run out of duck food," Uncle Magda's all wet!"

"She is," Pernille laughs too," She's a bit silly, isn't she?"

"And wet!"

"And wet."

Uncle Magda looks a bit depressed as she waits for you both, wringing out the bottom of her shirt. "It's not funny," She says," I'm going to catch a cold."

"It's your fault," Pernille says," You're the one who fell!"

"A duck tripped me! It was an accident."

"Ducks aren't mean, Uncle Magda," You tell her," You tripped yourself."

She gasps in mock outrage. "Well, just for that, Duckie, I won't give you the duck egg I found."

You freeze. "Duck egg?"

She nods, bringing the egg out of her pocket. "It was all by itself. I reckon it needs a mummy."

You cradle it in your hands.

"Magda," Pernille says reproachfully.

"Pernille," Magda replies," It's probably not even fertilised. It was abandoned. There's no harm in giving her a dead egg."

You don't know it's dead though and when you get home, you make your Mama set it up in a little straw box with a lamp over the top.

Jessie's happy to oblige your little pet project, mainly because you're taking such good care of it. She isn't quite sure why she hadn't given you an egg to look after before.

You're being so good with it, so nice and helpful.

Her whole world comes screeching to a halt though when one evening your little feet go pitter-patter, pitter-patter towards her.

You aren't much of a runner, preferring to toddle along with your string of ducks. Running means something has happened.

Jessie shoves her seat back and looks away from her laptop, already turning to comfort you.

But you're smiling and your little hands clutch a baby duck.

Jessie's mouth hangs open.

"I...Duckie..."

"My Quackers! Finally hatched!"

"Duckie..."

"Need to keep him warm, Mama!"

"Duckie..."

"And give him cuddles!"

Jessie's not quite sure what else she can say but your name as she stares in shock at the little duck. She was certain that Magda told her it was a dead egg.

If she'd known any different then she'd have been prepared for having two little ducks in the house.

Briefly, she wonders if she can send it away to a shelter but you've already named it. You're already saying sweet things to it and it's already looking at you with what Jessie can only describe as awe.

You're attached to each other and Jessie can't separate you now.

Two little ducks for her to take care of now.

She sighs, unable to keep the smile off of her face. "Come here, duckie," She says," Lets order stuff so Quackers can be comfortable."

[rubyuji]

Treat (Kim Mingyu) ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍰 ⋅ ☆

“So Y/n, I see you noticed the cute baker in the kitchen. Any plans on getting to know him?” °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Genre: Fluff

AU: University!au

Pairing: Culinary Student!Baker!Mingyu x Medical Student!reader

Warnings: None just tooth-rotting fluff

Synopsis: An average medical student getting by who meets the cute baker from the small bakery across the street in front of her university.

Note: This used to be a TXT fic but I edited it and now it’s a Mingyu fic because I have a bunch of wips that I’m dying to finish. Here’s something for me to post at least, happy reading! As always, don’t forget to like + reblog as a way to support.

WC: 5.4k

Being a medical student was a pain in the ass and was way worse than how people would describe it, it cost money, time as well as your mental and emotional stability. It’s not like anyone would want to study the anatomy of a human in a dull lecture hall with like forty other people, or know how a whiff of a cigarette could even kill you.

Yet here you were, already going the works of med school, and there was no turning back from it all, because although you were passionate, you still had a limit to how much you could take, even if you had always dreamed of becoming a pediatrician to keep you motivated.

“Oh my God Jihyo, I don’t think I’m ready to take this exam. I’m probably going to flunk this semester and I’ll be stuck as a receptionist in scrubs at a local clinic if I don’t get my head straight” you say tearfully.

Your friend Jihyo chuckled as she patted your back comfortingly, assuring you that you would do just fine and that you had already done enough studying the past few days. You weren’t stupid, just dramatic.

“You’ll be fine Y/n, don’t worry about it otherwise you will start to feel even worse. You’ve studied like crazy so it would be insane if you didn’t do so well, like you always do” she smiled softly in reply.

You shoot Jihyo a weak smile back and sigh once again, at least one of your best friends kept you somewhat sane, you couldn’t say the same for your appearance though. With heavy eyebags and eyes that looked as hollow as your soul, anyone would probably mistake you for a psych ward patient if you were caught walking around by yourself.

“Thanks, and good luck to us once we step into the exam hall. We’re gonna need it, me especially” you sigh after gathering the rest of the materials you’ll need for the exam itself.

When an hour passed, the exam completely drained you of all the life you had left. You stepped out of the exam hall with Jihyo groggily. You just wanted to go home and sleep all your problems away, but if you were already struggling as a freshman, how much more would you be in the future knowing you still had thirteen more years to go?

“Is it too late to change careers and become a full-time sugar baby or stripper?” You ask your friend and roommate, Rosé, who was just as drained as you were.

“I don’t think so. Let’s go on that sugar baby website” she chimed back in exhaustion. Chungha laughed at you both on the couch before setting down a pizza on the coffee table in front of you, along with a few drinks and a huge bottle of coke.

“Cheer up ladies, we’ll get through all of this before you know it. Now eat up, the food’s getting cold” Chungha hissed.

You and Rosé helped yourselves without another word, the three of you scarfing down all the food and complaining about midterms just to get your system going.

In the middle of the conversation, Rosé had suddenly brought up the bakery that just opened across the university.

“By the way, a new bakery opened up across the street from our school, do you guys wanna try and visit tomorrow?” She chirped.

You guys didn’t have anything to lose, so you and Chungha agreed before setting a certain time to meet after your last exam. That was when you realized it was getting late so you all cleaned up and started to get ready for bed.

“Goodnight you two! Good luck as well, we’ll need it for our last set of exams” You bid your roommates goodnight as you retreat into your room.

“Whew! That was exhausting, I’m glad everything is over with because chemistry should be the least of my problems for now” you cheered.

Rosé groans and runs a hand through her hair in frustration. Chungha was late, and it was because her boyfriend Jungkook wanted some alone time with her.

“God if Chungha doesn’t come in like five minutes I’m gonna assume they need their ‘THEM’ time” she huffs. You laugh and just grab Rosé while giving Jihyo a call. If Chungha getting it, at least someone else can take her place, for now, her boyfriend probably needs a lot of relief.

“Jihyo can come, she’ll be there in like ten. For now, we should order in advance” you say, as you both enter the bakery.

The interior was very cute and minimal, everything was white marble, be it the racks and tables with checkered flooring. On the ceiling hung two crystal chandeliers that reflected light causing a blur of rainbows to scatter across the room.

“Wow you were right, this place is adorable Rosie! Let’s go order drinks and pick our bread” you squeal and drag her over.

Behind the register, you see a guy with black hair and another guy with light brown hair bickering about something.

“Jeonghan, I swear to fucking God if you—“ the black-haired male was cut off after seeing you and Rosé walking over.

“Go serve the customers first, I’ll be waiting in the back” The brunette smirked, and retreated into the kitchen behind the counter.

At the counter, the guy greets you with a charming smile, just about charming enough to get you flustered, but you didn’t want to look like a mess right now so you browsed the menu behind him.

“Hi! Welcome to Carat Cravings! What can I get you two today?” You read his nametag and saw that he was named Seungcheol. ‘Cute’ you say to yourself and smile back at him.

“Can we get one fruit and egg tart with a margarita pizza for here, please? And for the drinks one caramel macchiato and one americano, both iced with a fruit ade please” Seungcheol punches your orders into the register and looks up at you both again.

“Will that be all?” He asks, and you nod as you hand him your card. Rosé looked at you almost frazzled and was about to refuse your offer to pay, but then noticed that you had caught wind of another guy from behind in the kitchen.

As Seungcheol hands you your card back, you and Rosé make your way to a table near the window. “So Y/n, I see you noticed the cute baker in the kitchen. Any plans on getting to know him?” She giggled softly.

You looked at her with a glare and shook your head furiously. No, you weren’t the kind of person to date because you always prioritized your studies more than anything, but you had to admit, the baker was just so cute.

He was tall and had beautiful sunkissed skin with jet black hair and had a face that almost resembled a puppy, and maybe you also couldn’t help but notice that he had nice hands that kneaded the dough so well. You’d imagine what his hands would do if they were—

“Y/n! Hi Rosie!” Your thoughts were cut short as Jihyo entered the bakery and called over to you both excitedly. She was beaming as you made space for her to sit beside you.

“Hi Jihyo, you look happy for someone who came out of our hour-long exam” Rosé eyed her suspiciously. Jihyo only laughed and waved off what she said while staring both of you down.

“My sister called right after and said the hospital she’s working at is accepting part-timers! I just came here feeling happy about it” she says excitedly.

You and Rosé were shocked but also happy for her knowing that having a sister who worked at a hospital had its perks too. Jihyo was just one of the lucky ones, but everyone starts somewhere.

“Sorry to interrupt ladies but here are your orders! If you need anything else you can just call for me or the other guy behind the counter, the one with light brown hair” Seungcheol placed your orders on the table and the three of you thanked him politely.

When Seungcheol had finally walked out of earshot, Jihyo had lowered her voice into a whisper. “This bakery is cute but oh my god, I never expected the workers to be cute as well,” she says in a giddy tone.

You laugh at her and take a piece of the pizza while sipping on your caramel macchiato, Jihyo still ogling at Seungcheol as Rosé gives her a disgusted look.

“Come on you two, what happened to putting our studies first? If you date during your freshman year you are going to end up as a receptionist in scrubs you hear me” Rosé says sarcastically, but you were too busy staring at the baker who just came out of the kitchen.

He was talking to the two other males behind the counter and sighed. That was when you noticed that he had eyed you up and down too before looking away.

“Y/n? Hello? What the fuck, oh wait it’s that baker” Rosé says with a huff. Jihyo giggles and shushes her, noticing how flustered you became all of a sudden.

The two knew you were never one to talk about guys or wanted to date since high school, so seeing you all worked up over someone you didn’t know would only make teasing you even worse.

“New motivation to go to class every day? I know you have evening classes, so maybe I could ask them what time they close” Jihyo says with a smirk.

“Oh shut up, the baker is just some stupid eye candy you know. I can’t let that go to waste” you try to brush it off, but in reality, you two were practically checking each other out without your friends noticing.

On the other hand, Mingyu also seems to have noticed you and how you stared at him from across the room. Opting to check you out too because you didn’t look that bad either, and because he needed a break from being in the kitchen since the morning.

“Mingyu? Are you alright? Don’t tell me you’re checking out that girl over there with her friends, I was planning to get first dibs because she looked the most interesting” Jeonghan whined.

Seungcheol smacked him on the back of his head and went to tidy whatever was on the counter until a few more customers came in, but then he turned towards the two.

“I mean, you’re not wrong. She looks really pretty, but Mingyu seems to put her on edge. They barely even know each other, but you can feel the tension between them, just go talk to her Gyu” the older male grins.

Mingyu rolls his eyes at the two and notices that Jun has also come out from the back to get a breather. Business was a bit slow today, but they did just open so there was no harm in being a bit laid back.

“Are you guys talking about the group of girls over there? We just opened and you’re already ogling at our customers, be more professional” Jun says nonchalantly.

“Well I need a girlfriend, the girls in my major aren’t all that so ogling at the bakery respectfully would seem better than asking out a girl who wouldn’t know how to interact with me” Jeonghan rolls his eyes and drags Jun back to the kitchen where he’ll be taking over for Mingyu, whilst Wonwoo takes his place at the front.

In the midst of this all happening, you notice the other boys by the counter and rip your eyes off Mingyu to focus on what Jihyo and Rosé are talking about.

“The food is so good here! I can’t believe they just opened, I want to gatekeep this place forever” Jihyo gushed. Rosé nodded in agreement and turned to you, to which you replied with a confused expression.

“Well, we are done. How about we head home so we have more time to relax? I’m sorry if I’m rushing, but I have a show to catch up on” Rosé blabbered. You laugh at her and nod as you all collect your things.

“See you tomorrow Jihyo! I’ll call you” You smile and wave as the three of you part ways, you and Rosé going home together since you were both roommates.

“Alright! Stay safe you two!” Jihyo then turned and walked towards her apartment, which was about two blocks from the bakery itself.

At home, as you’re studying on the living room floor, you notice Chungha sitting on the couch behind you. “I heard from Rosie that the pastry maker from the new bakery caught your eye” she joked.

You roll your eyes and shake your head at the accusation, is it not normal to ogle at people once in a while? And how did word travel so fast?

“Trust me, he’s just eye candy. It’s nothing personal” you sigh, whilst highlighting a sentence in your book. Chungha huffs and takes a sip from her mug, smirking at you.

“I doubt it, you’re such a nerd Y/n. You already work your ass off at school so why not live a little and date? Come on, this guy is probably just as studious as you are, considering he works at a bakery with his friends” she says matter-of-factly.

“So working at a bakery that he started with his friends makes him a nerd like me? I’m so impressed Chungha, you should’ve taken criminology, to be completely honest,” you reply sarcastically, which earned you a slap on the back of the head.

“Come on, if you’re going by tomorrow at least talk to him. I mean, what do you have to lose? You’re smart, pretty and you’re kind. Not to mention, wasn’t he also checking you out?” You felt your face grow hot, guess you weren’t that slick after all if Rosé noticed it too.

Before you could retaliate, the two of you heard the soft pattering of feet and a laugh coming from the hallway. It was Rosé, and it seemed like she’d overheard your conversation through the paper-thin walls of the apartment.

“Y/n! You should go see him! It’ll do you good I promise” she squealed. Chungha laughed and nodded along with her, it seemed like your roommates were some of the most insufferable people in the entire world.

“If I do it will you guys finally leave me alone?” You say weakly. The other two nodded eagerly with wide eyes and you mentally facepalm.

If a simple conversation was gonna get them off your tail, then so be it. It’ll be quick and it’s not like it’ll be a routine part of your day.

The next morning, you couldn’t be any more wrong. You woke up earlier than you should’ve for your first class of the day, and as you fixed yourself in the mirror, you thought about the baker and why you ended up just mentally thanking your friends for the challenge.

“Good morning Y/n, you seem chipper this morning” Rosé greets you from the kitchen. You smile shyly at her and look away, which gives off the impression that you maybe were anticipating the morning more than you thought, compared to the night before.

“Looking forward to talking to him now? Seems like a culinary major so maybe you’ll find him easier than you’d think” she continues.

“Yeah, yeah maybe I am a bit excited since he is cute. I bet he has a girlfriend though and I’ll prove you guys wrong, maybe his eyes just wandered” you laugh while Rosé only gives you a smirk and a scoff.

“When you start dating this guy, I bet you’ll thank us for setting you up like this. Studies can always come second, and who said you can’t multitask?” you bid your goodbye and race to the elevator of your apartment building, sighing from the intense teasing, but before the elevator doors could close, a voice had called over from the end of the hallway.

“Hey! Wait up!” You quickly press the open door button and lo and behold, there stood the exact baker you and Rosé were just talking about this morning, except he was in a chef outfit. ‘Maybe she was right’ you chuckle.

“Thanks for that— Wait, you were with your friends at the bakery yesterday” The tall male recognized you as you nodded back and gave him a friendly smile.

“I’m surprised you even remember me, but I’m even more shocked that you live in the same apartment building” you reply with a laugh. Mingyu scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and nods.

“You guys were one of our first customers, so it’s honestly hard to forget since it’s kind of special in a way” The elevator doors open and the two of you walk out, still engaged in a conversation.

“Oh before we do part ways, I’m Y/n! I had plans to head to the bakery later but it seems like your shift won’t start ‘till the afternoon it seems” you say cheekily.

“I’m Mingyu, it’s nice to meet you. Don’t worry, I only have one morning class before the others take over for the night, so you will be seeing me right after” Mingyu chuckles. Your face heats up so you immediately bid the male goodbye and walk over to your bus.

Microbiology was probably one of the worst classes to ever have in the morning, so a coffee fix for the rest of the day was just what you needed. You offer to buy your other friend Nayeon one too since you needed someone to go with you, just to lessen the effects of being around Mingyu at least.

“I’m starting to get sick of studying fungi and bacteria all day, can you believe every fucking surface we wipe a swab on has some form of disease” you grimace.

The bell of the bakery chimes and you already see a familiar head of brown hair behind the register. “Hi welcome to Carat Cravings! What can I get you guys today?” It was still fairly early in the morning, so you guessed that the ones working the morning hours mostly had evening classes just like you.

“One americano and one caramel machiatto, both iced. While we’ll get a breakfast platter please” Jeonghan punches in the order and you hand him your card, once again, to pay. At that exact moment, Mingyu had come out of the kitchen to greet you.

“Wait you know her?” Jeonghan suddenly asks. Mingyu nods and you greet him back shyly, you two had only just met by chance at the elevator of your apartment building.

“She lives in the same building, anyways Y/n this is Jeonghan. Since you’ll be coming here more often, I assume, then you should get to know us” he grins back at you. Jeonghan gave you both puzzled looks but you nodded in reply, a grin also plastered onto your face.

“Go ahead and find a seat then, your orders will be out in a few” You and Nayeon make your way to a window seat in the corner and take out a few of your notebooks just to go over what was discussed in your lecture.

You are writing down another important note on your iPad when you hear the clinking of glasses and see another blonde beside your table, you guessed this was the other guy named Jun.

“Here you are, let us know how you feel about the food before you go by the way! Also here’s something from Mingyu that he wanted me to give you” he handed you a note and you looked at him confused, then looked over at the counter where you noticed the man as he ran back into the kitchen.

Jun walks away as you open the note, your friend Nayeon is confused as as you are. “Oh—? It’s his uh number?” You say in a flustered manner. ‘Let’s get closer! Here’s my number since I’m too shy to give it to you :)’ it said.

“Aww! Y/n that’s so cute!” Nayeon squeals as you look away shyly to bring out your phone to type in his number. “Hey, he’s just being friendly don’t be like that!” You deny it, but Nayeon wouldn’t let up.

After that day, Mingyu had pretty much become a routine part of your life, except that one phone call after a few weeks of talking to each other.

“Y/n? I didn’t expect you today since you seemed so busy, how was class?” Mingyu chuckles from the other line. You smile at his words before replying, no matter how busy, Mingyu always manages to ask you about your day.

“Well it was pretty ok I guess, I’m just sad I couldn’t stop by the bakery today because it rained too” you reply sadly. You hear the line go silent and hear a few muffled jeers and laughs in the background. ‘Cute’ you thought.

“Don’t mind the guys. Since you called, I wanted to know if you were free this weekend? Jun’s taking over for me” Mingyu asks.

“I am actually! I don’t have anything planned right now. What do you have in mind?” You reply a little too enthusiastically. You hear another chuckle on the other line and cover your mouth in embarrassment.

“You’re so cute, let’s go to a café! I don’t want us to feel so lost since it’s our first time hanging out personally” Mingyu smiled on the other line before hearing Wonwoo gag from behind him. You blush at Mingyu’s comment and try to contain the urge to scream.

“Alright then, text me the time and I’ll put it into my schedule for the week. Bye, Mingyu! Good luck at work!” The other members all smirked at Mingyu and he bid you goodbye as well, this time with reddened ears.

The taller male then turns to his friends who go back to cleaning up before they close the bakery soon. “Yeah, it’s nothing. I just made a friend I swear, besides, she lives in our apartment building so it’ll be weird if I didn’t at least make acquaintances with her” he tries to convince them.

“Yeah right, I’d ask my cute neighbor out on a date if I were you too. Cut the bullshit Gyu, we know you like her” Wonwoo says while laughing.

Mingyu looks away, they definitely weren’t wrong and even though he did have dreams of becoming a top pastry chef one day, he also couldn’t risk not seeing you again.

“It’s always studies first, but I overheard she’s also one of the top students in her major. You bagged the beauty and brains Gyu!” Seungcheol exclaims.

Jeonghan looks at his friend in confusion as to how he even knew this information, but the older only chuckles in response.

“I got this information from Jihoon just so you know, he’s pretty close to her other friend Jihyo I think” Seungcheol concludes. Mingyu sighed and went to fix the pastry display, he was in for a rough week he supposed.

On your end, your two roommates had also overheard the conversation and squealed just as you ended the call. “He asked you out on a date?! Y/n that’s wonderful!” Rosé screams, immediately engulfing you in a bear hug.

“Guys it’s just a regular hang out between friends! He’s just our, cute, neighbor and baker you know” you stifle out. Chungha gives you a look of disapproval and flicks your forehead.

“Yeah, yeah. We all know you two are whipped for each other and it’s been two weeks since they opened up, you two will probably make it official before you even start the second date!” She huffs out. You frown, were you really in denial? You wouldn’t know for sure.

The date (if you could even call it that), came by faster than you could blink and now here you were, standing in front of the mirror, with your makeup done and in a pretty white dress with matching white ballet flats.

“Why do you look so dolled up? It’s a friendly date isn’t it” Rosé teases. You turn to her and see her leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on her face.

“I just wanted to look presentable you know” you squeak out, knowing you were caught red-handed. It was autumn so you had to take your last chance to at least wear something pretty before layering everything.

“Anyways, tell me the details once you’re back! And take A LOT, and I mean a lot, of pictures with him ok? You two look cute together” Rosé runs away before you can reprimand her, and you suddenly hear your phone ping.

“Y/n! Someone’s at the door for you!” Chungha calls out lovingly. You stiffen, was it necessary for your roommate to act embarrassing at the most inconvenient time? You walk out of your room and make eye contact with Mingyu from the hallway.

Mingyu’s eyes widen at your form, the two of you were wearing matching outfits, both white and looking like you had dressed for the spring instead of the cold autumn weather.

“So?—“ Chungha was cut short as you sprinted and grabbed Mingyu’s hand, leading him down the hallway hurriedly with a laugh.

“I’m sorry, my roommates can be a handful sometimes. Now, where are we going?” You grin. Mingyu’s ears redden after realizing your hands were still intertwined, but you didn’t seem that bothered so he led you to his car that was parked in the basement.

“Are you planning to kill me?” You joke. Mingyu shakes his head and you laugh. “No, no! Just taking you to my car since the café is in the uptown part of the city. It’s a bit far but I guarantee you’ll like it” he replies in a flustered voice.

“Are you sure you’re not some murderer plotting my demise and you’re secretly taking me to your getaway house with your actual girlfriend” you blurt out. He looks at you in confusion and now it was his turn to laugh.

“I don’t think I’d be here then if I had a girlfriend, trust me, I’m more into my studies and passion than you think. So, consider yourself a special girl” Mingyu unintentionally flirts. You hit his shoulder out of habit, but he didn’t seem to mind either as he continued to laugh at you.

“Why’d you ask me out anyway? My other friends are way prettier and way more interesting than me, and don’t think I’m saying that out of pity, I’m just confused since I’ve always had my head buried in books as well” you admit shamefully.

“In all honesty, I just felt an instant connection with you, call it whatever but I’ve never felt like this with someone before” The street lights illuminate his face and you thank the gods above that he can’t see your flushed face in the dimness of the light.

“Oh, we’re here by the way. Let me park and don’t get out until I open the door for you” Mingyu parks the car at a spot in front of a very comfy but also expensive-looking café, before getting out of the driver’s seat to open your end.

You get out and thank him bashfully, the two of you heading inside. It didn’t seem too crowded for a weekend, which relieved you a bit since the ambiance was much more peaceful this way.

“Good afternoon! Welcome to Nabi’s, what can I get you two today?” The cashier smiles. You turn to Mingyu, and he looks at you with another grin, immediately ordering since you aren’t all that familiar with the place.

The cashier punches it in and Mingyu pays for everything, leaving you flustered for the umpteenth time that day. ‘What a gentleman, and he doesn’t have a girlfriend?’ You tell yourself.

“Your orders will be out shortly, you can take a seat and we’ll bring it right over. Have a good one, and here’s your change sir” Mingyu gladly takes his card and leads you to the second floor of the café.

Upon stepping into the seating area, you were immediately greeted with a beautiful view of the city. “Mingyu this is amazing!” You run over to the seat next to the window, and this causes Mingyu’s heart to race. How could you be so endearing even in the smallest aspect?

“It’s nothing, it’s a place I like to go to when I want to be alone, but I brought you here because it’s special to me” he admits while sitting down in front of you.

“Thank you honestly, I feel very special now that I’ve earned enough trust from Kim Mingyu to be able to go to one of his favorite places” You giggle, your stomach full of butterflies from how he treated you.

“Well, I did want to say this and I’m afraid it might be too early, but here it goes” You look at him curiously and stay quiet so you can listen to him better. You were always one to make anyone feel heard and comfortable.

“I like you Y/n, as if it isn’t obvious enough. The day I saw you with your friends at the bakery, something just stood out to me about you, and after getting to know you, it made you a hundred times more attractive to me. It might be a bit early but I wanted to let you know that I’d be willing to wait for you as long as you let me” Mingyu says wholeheartedly.

You were shocked, you liked Mingyu just as much as he did you, but his confession and sincerity were so out of the blue. Was this guy sure about not having a girlfriend?

“Mingyu, I don’t know what to say. I like you too! At first, I was pretty in denial about my feelings since I didn’t want to end up as a receptionist in scrubs and only really stuck to my studies, but you opened up my heart in a way. No need to wait, I’m willing to be your girlfriend” you confess as well.

You stare at Mingyu and notice his ears turn red while a huge smile starts to make its way onto his face. “You don’t understand how happy you make me Y/n, I won’t disappoint you” he holds your hand from across the table.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, Mingyu and you talking for hours on end about everything you missed out on during the first few weeks of getting to know each other, what you guys had in common, and even planning out the second date.

Mingyu and you walk through the basement of your apartment together as he takes you home for the night, dreamy smiles on both your faces and hands intertwined with each other’s. It felt magical almost that you’d even met this guy, he came straight out of a storybook.

“I had so much fun today, thank you Mingyu. I’m so happy,” you say in the elevator. Mingyu engulfs you in a hug and nuzzles his face against the crown of your head, you two did seem like a lovesick couple already.

“Thank you for today as well Y/n, I couldn’t have asked for anything better. Now let’s take you home so you can rest well, even if I don’t want to let you go just yet” he says cheekily.

The elevator dings and you realize that you are already on your floor. You start to feel sad but Mingyu still walks you over to your apartment down the hall, the two of you constantly exchanging glances as you get to your door slowly.

“Goodnight Mingyu! Thank you again, boyfriend, I’ll see you tomorrow at the bakery after class?” You quip. Mingyu nods and you kiss him on the cheek before typing in your door combination.

“Boyfriend huh? Goodnight then Y/n, sleep tight love. I don’t want to let you go just yet” he pouts. You laugh again and give him one last peck, this time on his lips, which causes his eyes to widen again.

“You’ll see me tomorrow! Now go rest up sleepyhead, you always work so hard” After you finish that sentence, you open the door and bid him one last goodbye before he walks away, and you walk into your apartment.

Once the door is closed, you hear the shrieks of your roommates and massage your temples. You were going to be in for it tonight, but at least you finally had the man of your dreams.

© rubyuji 2024’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Steal Away - Malleus

Author Notes: I wrote this fic a little while back and its just been gathering dust in my documents until now. I guess you could say this fic is a bit of a callback to simpler times pre-Diasomnia chapter, though it doesn't have to be specifically set at that time. This fic was written while I listed to the song “Steal Away” by Robbie Dupree. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader/ sfw/ fluff/

Word Count: 979

I slipped quietly out of the front door and onto the porch of Ramshackle Dorm. My eyes quickly finding the shadowy figure that had drawn me out of my warm bed and into the chilled night.

Most people would probably be distressed by seeing a tall, horned figure out in their front yard in the dead of night. But I wasn’t concerned. After all, I happened to know the young man whose lilting humming currently filled the otherwise silent darkness quite well.

“Hornton,” He turned at the sound of my voice, bright green eyes widening slightly as he spotted me before he relaxed once more.

“Child of man, I wasn’t sure if I should expect you after you didn’t come out to greet me last time….”

And there it was. His signature pout. It was hard to believe that anyone could find this man terrifying when I was looking at him like this. Especially considering that he let me call him ‘Hornton’ of all things.

“Sorry about that… I guess I must’ve been really tired the other day,” His expression softened as I explained my absence from whenever his last visit had been.

There was a slight smile on his face as he tilted his head, “Is your daily toiling so great that you fall into such a deep slumber when the evening comes?”

I laughed slightly at his odd way of phrasing before shaking my head, “Well, Crowley and school together do keep me pretty busy, but I think I was just sleeping really well.”

His smile turned amused as he continued to gaze at me, “And what of tonight? Does sleep evade you, Child of Man?”

I blinked up at him before shrugging, “Maybe a little? I just saw you and wasn’t really that tired, so I came out to chat.” 

And it was true. Up until the moment I’d seen Malleus’s glistening faerie lights, I’d been curled up in bed listening to Grim’s soft snores, feeling totally incapable of falling asleep.

He hummed in response before turning to glance into the distance before looking back my way with a distinct frown, “It seems I shall not be staying long this evening.”

His pout had returned, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. Sebek and Silver were no doubt out looking for him, and that meant he would either be returning to Diasomnia or giving them slip yet again.

I reached out, patting his arm affectionately as I grinned at him, amused by his sulking, “Hey, it’s okay. I doubt this will be your last evening escapade.”

His eyes widened in an almost comical fashion as he echoed me, “Escapade?” His gaze turned thoughtful, and he seemed to look past me, at some distant point of interest, before reaching a sudden decision.

A grin that I could only describe as evil crossed his pale face as he looked at me and held out a gloved hand, “A splendid idea, Child of man. Shall we steal away?”

I blinked up at him, startled and with widened eyes, before fumbling out a reply, “Wha- What?”

He chuckled, a low sound that, accompanied by his gleaming, unnaturally green eyes, made him both appear and sound distinctly villainous. 

Maybe I actually could understand why some of my classmates were wary of him. Just a little…

“An escapade. Would you like to come with me?” His explanation confirmed my suspicions. 

The great Malleus Draconia, heir to the throne of the Valley of Thorns, was asking me if I wanted to help him avoid his bodyguards and play hooky.

It was an impulsive decision, and I honestly wondered if Ace’s troublesome ways were beginning to influence me, but I found myself slipping my hand into his nonetheless, “Just for a bit, we don’t want to worry them too much.”

His grin was now positively devious as his fingers curled around my hand as if he were claiming some sort of prize, “They would be fine even if I stayed away all evening.”

I squeezed his hand slightly and grinned back at him as I teasingly scolded him, “Behave.”

He chuckled again before tugging me over towards him and wrapping an arm around me. I stumbled slightly but managed to catch myself against him before I looked up at him as the strangely firefly-like green lights began to float around us. A signal that he was just about to use his magic and teleport to some place.

In the distance, I could hear Sebek calling for his lord, but I ignored him in favor of questioning Malleus, “Where to?”

His gaze met mine, and he squeezed me ever so slightly in a half-hug before turning his bright-eyed gaze towards the sky with a truly villainous grin, “Where else? Into the night, of course.”

There was a floating sensation and flash, and then we were gone. Leaving the front yard of Ramshackle dorm empty as both knights came walking up. One, perfectly calm even as the other one agitatedly scanned the area.

“LORD MALLEUS?” Sebek’s yell shattered the silence of the night as Silver shook his head.

“It looks like they’ve already left,” His voice was distinctly tired sounding as he trailed off in a yawn that had Sebek looking at him irritably.

“Who are they? The only person I’m concerned with is Lord Malleus!” Silver sighed almost immediately at Sebek’s intonation before looking at him meaningfully.

“Malleus and Y/n. We should leave them be. Father said having friends was good for Malleus,” And with only those words, Silver turned and started to stroll away. Leaving a sputtering Sebek to follow him.

“Bu- But… A HUMAN?”

“Quiet Sebek. You won’t want to wake the ghosts like you did last time,” Silver hardly even missed a beat as he continued on his way. Leaving you to spend time with Malleus for as long as your shared escapade lasted.

[frostdayz]

Special day in Asgard

Loki x reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: After many days of not really having loki to yourself he plans a day of only you two.

warnings: nothing unless you hate fluff!

AN: Sweet and whipped Loki oh how I love you!!!!!! Hope you all enjoy, I loved writing this :)

my stories never really describe the readers gender so unless stated otherwise all my stories are gn!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I stirred, blinking awake to the gentle warmth that kissed my skin. I could feel the cool sheets beside me and rolled over to find Loki, already awake, his piercing emerald eyes studying me with a soft, affectionate gaze.

“Good morning, my love,” he greeted, his voice smooth and soothing, like a quiet stream in the early morning light. His dark hair spilled over the pillows, framing his face in elegant disarray.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, still drowsy as I burrowed deeper into the blankets. “You’ve been watching me again.”

He chuckled, his deep, rich laughter reverberating in the stillness of the room. “How could I resist? You look so peaceful when you sleep. It’s a rare moment when I get to see you so at ease.”

I smiled sleepily, letting my eyes drift shut again. But before I could slip back into slumber, Loki shifted, leaning over me to plant a soft kiss on my forehead. His cool lips contrasted with the warmth of my skin, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.

“As much as I enjoy watching you sleep, I thought today we could do something different,” he murmured, his breath ghosting against my ear.

I opened one eye, peering at him suspiciously. “What kind of different?”

He grinned, mischief glinting in his eyes. “No tricks, I promise. Just a day for us. No royal duties, no interruptions—just you and me.”

That got my attention. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I looked at him. “Really? You’re not being summoned by Odin, or Thor isn’t planning another one of his adventures?”

Loki shook his head, his expression softening. “No, not today. Today, I’m all yours.”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face as I reached out to cup his cheek. “I like the sound of that.”

Loki’s eyes sparkled as he leaned into my touch before pulling away and sliding out of bed with effortless grace. “Then let’s start the day right, shall we?” He offered me his hand, and I took it, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

We both got dressed, Loki in his usual dark green tunic that accentuated his lean figure, and I in a flowing Asgardian cloak he had gifted me not too long ago. As we left our chambers, Loki’s hand found mine again, his long fingers intertwining with mine as we made our way to the palace’s grand kitchen.

When we arrived, Loki waved away the palace staff with a gentle nod, insisting that today, we would be preparing our own meal. It was rare for royalty to step foot in the kitchen, but Loki relished the idea of doing something simple and domestic. I found it endearing—another glimpse of the man behind the mask of the trickster.

“What are we making?” I asked, eyeing the vast array of ingredients that lined the countertops.

Loki smirked as he waved his hand, and with a flick of his fingers, various ingredients floated toward us. “Something simple but delightful. How do you feel about pancakes?”

I raised an eyebrow, a small laugh escaping my lips. “Pancakes? That’s what you consider ‘delightful’?”

“Of course,” he replied with mock seriousness, his lips curving into a playful grin. “They are a delicacy in Midgard, are they not? And I’ve mastered the art of making them. You’ll see.” He joked.

Despite my skepticism, I watched as Loki set to work. True to his word, he moved with practiced ease, mixing flour, eggs, and milk with a fluid grace that only he could possess. I helped where I could, handing him ingredients and stirring the batter while sneaking glances at his concentrated expression.

Once the batter was ready, Loki heated the skillet with a flick of his wrist, and within moments, the rich aroma of cooking pancakes filled the kitchen. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment wash over me as I watched him work. This moment, this simple act of cooking together, felt so natural and yet so extraordinary at the same time.

Soon, we had a stack of golden pancakes sitting between us, topped with fresh fruit and drizzled with syrup Loki had conjured up from who knows where. We sat at the table, eating leisurely, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“These are really good,” I admitted after taking a bite. “You weren’t lying.”

Loki smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “I told you. I’m full of surprises.”

After breakfast, we left the kitchen and wandered through the grand halls of the palace. The towering columns and intricately carved walls were familiar to us both, but as we walked hand in hand, it felt like we were seeing them in a new light. Loki regaled me with stories of Asgard’s history, tales I’d heard dozens of times before but never tired of. He spoke of grand battles, ancient legends, and even the occasional prank he had pulled on Thor during their younger years.

“And then, of course, Thor fell for it,” Loki said with a grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he recounted one of his many pranks. “He was always so eager to believe whatever I told him.”

I laughed, picturing Thor’s confused expression. “I can’t believe he didn’t catch on after the first few times.”

Loki shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “That’s the beauty of it. Thor has a good heart, but he’s not always the most… observant.”

As we walked, our conversation flowed effortlessly, like a dance we had perfected over time. We told each other stories we had heard countless times before—tales of our lives, our adventures, and the moments that had brought us together. And yet, each retelling felt just as special as the first.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the palace, we found ourselves in the palace gardens. The air was cool, and the scent of blooming flowers filled the atmosphere as we walked along the stone paths, hand in hand.

“Let’s have dinner out here,” Loki suggested, glancing up at the sky as the first stars began to twinkle overhead. “Under the stars.”

I nodded, loving the idea. “That sounds perfect.”

With another flick of his wrist, Loki conjured a table set for two in the middle of the garden. Candles flickered in the gentle breeze, casting a soft, romantic glow over the scene. Plates of food appeared before us—an array of Asgardian delicacies that looked almost too beautiful to eat.

We sat down, the night air cool against our skin as we dined under the stars. It was quiet, peaceful, with only the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the palace in the background. Loki’s gaze never left mine as we ate, his eyes reflecting the light of the stars above us.

“You’ve made this day perfect,” I said softly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Thank you.”

Loki’s expression softened, and he squeezed my hand gently. “You make every day worth living, my love. You are my greatest treasure.”

As the night wore on, we finished our meal and lingered in the garden, talking and laughing as the stars shone brightly above us. Eventually, the coolness of the night air drove us back inside, and we returned to our chambers, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

We undressed in comfortable silence, slipping into bed with the ease of two people who knew each other intimately. Loki pulled me into his arms, his cool skin a comforting contrast to the warmth of the blankets.

I nestled into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I don’t want this day to end,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

Loki pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head, his voice low and soothing as he replied, “It doesn’t have to. We can have as many days like this as we want.”

I smiled, feeling a sense of peace settle over me as I drifted off to sleep in Loki’s embrace. Today had been perfect—a day filled with love, laughter, and the quiet moments that made life so beautiful. And as I fell asleep, I knew that with Loki by my side, every day would be just as perfect as this one.

[anistarrose]

I just saw a post with a very dangerous conflation of terminology going around (and on International Asexuality Day, no less!) so as a polite but firm, and apparently much-needed reminder:

Sex repulsed/averse, sex indifferent, and sex favorable are terms used by the asexual spectrum community to describe individual feelings and interest levels towards sex. You don't have to identify with any of these terms (all of the time, or any of the time) to be ace-spec, but lots of ace-specs consider them useful vocabulary — since we do, after all, exist on a wide spectrum.

These terms are not the same thing as being sex negative or sex positive, and they should not be used interchangeably! Sex negativity and sex positivity refer to attitudes towards sex in a societal setting, and the associated regressive, queerness-punishing societal norm (sex negativity) or movement to fix/overthrow that societal norm (sex positivity).

Calling sex repulsed asexuals "sex negative" conflates ace people's individual feelings about sex with societal sex negativity and cultural conservatism. Maybe not to you using that term, knowing what you mean, but to potential readers. And that doesn't mean you're consciously aphobic or anything, but it's still a vital misconception to address — because implying, accidentally or otherwise, that ace people are invariably sex negative or even responsible for sex negativity is pretty fucked up!

It encourages acephobia in queer communities (especially online ones), drives wedges between people who would otherwise be among each other's closest allies in the fight for queer liberation... and even neglects the fact that even sex repulsed asexuals suffer harm from sex negativity, too! Sex negative culture doesn't let you talk about asexuality without being accused of "oversharing," or "corrupting the youth!" That's, like, one of the aphobe talking points, even though it's just recycled homophobia and transphobia, and it proves the need to truly understand asexuality and sex positivity as forces that are by no means inherently opposed!

TL;DR: Please don't conflate sex negativity with sex repulsion or aversion — it feeds misconceptions that in turn feed aphobic discourse. This sex positive, sex averse ace, and many others in the same boat or similar boats, will all thank you for using the right wording!

[bomber-grl]

DAMIAN WITH A FLIRTY BOYFRIEND

JUSY JDNDHDKWBDJDNKD

🫀🫀🫀

😭

And if reader works with Batman/oracle

Like, a mini oracle 🥺

And bothers Damian as much as he can

Flirty as fuck

Damian Wayne x Flirty!Reader

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x M!Reader

Art Creds to @/RLDDLE69 on twt/X

Even the before the two of you began to date you were rather…straightforward

If he can even call you that

He honestly admired it since he’s also pretty straightforward but when you set your sights on him?

Yea it’s no longer a good trait

It’s gotten even worse after you’ve established your relationship

You’re constantly calling him pet names and always flirting with him whenever and wherever you can

Ranging from when you’re hanging out at school or just during the day

It’s not like he can catch a break from you when he’s not pretending to just be a normal civilian

Because you’re quite literally in cahoots with his father and oracle

Basically everyone else too

He acts as though it’s annoying and bothersome but his reactions say otherwise

Whenever you wrap an arm around him and begin to compliment him, even mildly- a light blush will dust his cheeks

And like the tsundere he is (only way to accurately describe him so sorry for the cringe) he’ll act as though you’re nothing but distracting him 👀

Which would work since the blushing is very light

But cmon, he lives with built in detectives and are around them basically 24/7

They know that your constant flirting causes Damian to fluster

And so he becomes a victim to some relentless bullying teasing from his family members

Which then prompts him to ask you to no longer be flirty and basically exert PDA anymore so that he’d no longer be a victim

This only makes it worse for himself as you practically cling to him and compliment him over the top and explain all the reasons you can’t do that- them being him

Of course as usual- you’re teasing him and he can’t help but give in

Did I forget to mention that?

Damian refuses to acknowledge him liking that you flirt with him all the time

You both knew that to some extent

The only time he gets upset (?) is when you’re on a mission or just on patrol and you’ll just start pulling pick up lines out of your ass

Like Damn how desperate could you possibly be?

He’s the desperate one

Not much changes when you’re the one filling in for barb or assisting her

Your job is to review the perimeter through technology and see a good route into wherever he’s breaking in

-checking security cameras and looking for any bad guys to give him a heads up to a tee

Well instead of doing that, you’d much rather whisper the cringest, sweetest thing you could

Damian never knew how many words rhymed with pookie, that’s saying a lot

Hence why you two are no longer allowed to work together on missions because you’re too much of a distraction for him

Rip but you reap what you sow 🤷

[impactedfates]

Letters Unsent - Genshin + HSR Boys x GN! Reader

★ Summary: After their death, you find a letter. A letter he wrote. A letter he wrote for you, a letter he wished he could’ve given to you personally. A letter describing his feelings.

☆ Characters Included (Separate): Diluc, Wriothesley, Cyno, Argenti, Jing Yuan + Gepard

★ Genre/Trope: Angst + Hurt/No Comfort

☆ Warnings: Major Character Death (Not the Readers)

★ Extra: Angst is fun, angst is nice :)) // Might make another part with different characters if this does well // Not fully proof read // Motivation came back cuz of sad tunes/hj

He said he'd be back, that it'll be quick. Despite your worry, you knew he was strong, so he'd be able to protect himself right? So you trusted him. Trusted him so much that when his co-worker showed up to your door with an expression you couldn't exactly read, you were confused. It was about him but...he was fine right? Then why were they telling you he had passed? The injuries he sustained was...to much for his body to handle? The healers couldn't help him? But...he said he'd be back...you were snapped out of your thoughts when they handed you a letter with your name on it. "I think he knew he wouldn't be able to make it...so...he wanted you to have this...even if he couldn't hear your answer"

"To My Dearest,

If I'd ever be lucky to even call you that. Although this isn't ideally how I wanted to do this. I believe I can only get these things on paper, it's much too difficult otherwise. I was never good with words so I hope this alternative is alright for you.

Ever since the day I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were different. Not in a bad way. It took me way too long to figure out the reason for this was due to the fact I loved you.

I loved seeing your smile.

Hearing your laugh.

Loved the small talk we had that would end up with me taking you home. You made me feel something I didn't think I would ever feel, and I'm unsure if I even deserve it.

If I even deserve you.

Whether or not you feel the same way, I hope we can stick together as long as time allows us.

Sincerely

Diluc."

"To Y/N

Hope you're doing well, life in Meropide is still as dull as ever. Well, unless you decide to visit, you really do light up the room when you come by don't you? Or maybe that's just for me.

Anyways, preferably I would be telling you this in person, but more work has piled up. That's also why our little tea sessions have to be put on hold for now. Don't worry, as soon as this all clears up and I investigate this one area, then we can go back to the usual.

I have this one blend I think you'd really like!

Anyways, enough beating around the bush.

I like you.

Like like you.

I love you.

So much.

I can't even begin to describe how much I love you, and even if I did I feel you'd be gagging at how cheesy I was being haha!

But really, I love you so much. I want to be with you, of course I understand if you don't feel the same. But Sigwinnie would have my head if I postponed this confession any longer.

I hope to see you again after my work.

Yours Truly

Wriothesley"

"Hello Y/N

I never thought I'd be writing this kind of letter in my free time. Unfortunately for me, it seems as though fate likes making things harder for me and whenever I want to even try to talk to you about this, it's much more difficult than it was when I practised in the mirror.

Or...

Well...

Practised to Tighnari.

We can ignore that for now though as I'm still trying to put this all together in words.

I would let you borrow my TCG set, you can use it as you please and I'd even let you touch my limited edition cards.

If that's not making any sense then how about a joke?

How does a fruit confess?

They say "Olive You"

.

.

.

Get it, because an olive is a type of fruit, and olive sounds like "I love"

.

.

.

I love you"

"My beloved rose

As much as I'd love to tell you all these words in person, my search for Idrila is still ongoing and I am unsure when I'll be able to see your beautiful face once again.

Ever since my eyes laid on your beauty, I thought I had found Idrila herself, but once I got to know you. Even if you weren't the Goddess, you could almost rival her.

The sparkle in your eyes.

The pretty little smile.

Your wonderful personality.

All those things you think are flaws? I love each and everyone of them. They are not flaws to me and it pains me knowing you think of yourself like that.

Once we meet again, I want to make sure you know how deserving you are of these words, how your 'flaws' aren't flaws and how much I love every bit of you.

Though I am aware I find many things worthy of praise. I want to let you know that you're different.

I don't just want to praise you, compliment you. I wish to love you, hold your hands and protect you with my life, no matter what it takes.

I love you so much, and if I could be so lucky to call you mine. Well, I think I'd be the happiest man alive.

I will return soon,

Signed

Argenti"

"Morning, Afternoon or Night

I'm not too sure when the Cloud Knight will give this to you, or when I'll give this to them. Whatever the case, I won't beat around the bush too much.

I love you.

Nothing could compare the feeling in my heart when I see you.

The smile that will never fade as long as you're there by my side.

You are just amazing. In all my years of living, never would I have thought to have met someone as perfect as you.

Even Fu Xuan herself can see just how enamoured I am for you, although for her. She's been using it as an advantage to do work.

'If you finish now you can see them quicker'

'How would they feel knowing that you're not working?'

'Stop dozing off or they won't come to see you ever again!'

I must admit, they all do work. Even if in hindsight, not only would I still see you even with work uncomplete, I'll see you plenty of times and more to come but I don't think you care all too much about my sleep.

But I digress.

I hope this letter finds you well, take as much time as you need to consider my words and think about your own feelings.

I'll be waiting where I always am.

Jing Yuan"

"Dear Y/N

Aeons this is embarrassing. But it would be even more embarrassing if Serval kept teasing me about this. I've been putting this off for so long, worried about how you'd react.

Your answer.

And if this would change your view on me...but you're not that kind of person. I know you're not. And after a bit of thinking, to save me from stumbling on my words. I decided to write a letter.

Serval should be the one giving this to you, so I hope she didn't say anything to you, I would nearly die of embarrassment if she did. Anyways!

So...I know it's probably not much hoping Serval wouldn't say something actually, knowing her, she gave it away with one sentence but...

I like you, a lot. More than you could ever know.

And I'm more than happy to talk to you about this in full once I'm back from my mission.

I can only pray you feel the same, but even if you don't.

I hope we stay friends.

Until next time,

Gepard"

WOOO FINALLY GOT THIS DONE AFTER FOREVER.

Sorry if any characters are OOC, I tried my best with writing what I think they'd write in a confession letter, but I hope you enjoyed this anyways!

[pigeonpeach]

Pussy eating Championship!

Character: Wriothesley, Arlecchino, Jean, Diluc, Shenhe

MINORS DNI

Warnings: slight somnophilia, overstimulation, slight exhibitionism, reader has a pussy!

Arlecchino

When she said she wanted to award you, you didn’t expect this. You held your legs as high as they could go as her tongue worked over your cunt. She was merciless, if she thought you were getting to spaced out she’d lightly lightly dig her teeth reminding you to stay focused. Oh your poor legs, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow and help with the kids at this rate. You’re mouth was stuffed with your apron as she seemed to be eating you like a full course meal. You had already climaxed several times but she still refused to let you up. Your moans muffled as all you could do was take it.

Jean

When she said she needed to de-stress you playfully suggested she just use you to do so. She didn’t take that as a joke but a challenge. You were spread out over her desk on your third orgasm as she lapped at you like her life depended on it. You couldn’t stop trembling. No one would come by at this hour you knew but still, you were flushed and completely exposed. Your dress pushed down in the front and pulled up the the back. You felt so exposed, and considering the sounds she was making too, oh boy. Anyone walking by must’ve heard.

Wriothesley

You didn’t even know what happened to trigger this heat he seemed to be in. All you did was greet him in his office and suddenly he tears your tights and lifts you into the air and onto his face! You can’t get up or off, he has a firm grip on your legs and he isn’t budging. You spotted his restrained cock. You hesitantly unzipped his pants, undoing the button to which it sprang out catching you by surprise. You blushes seeing just how hard he was. But you wanted to return the favor. He didn’t seem to mind though, his tongue roughly lapping at your lips, his lip’s sucking at your clit making you shake. You wrapped your fingers around his cock as you came right then and there. You just hoped your clothes would remain in one piece, otherwise you would have to walk out of her with his jacket covering you.

Diluc

You had been dozing off waiting for your husband to come home so you cold surprise him with your new set of lingerie. When you awoke your legs were lifted into the air as his face was buried inbetween your legs. You could only dig your hands into his hair and grip the sheets as he seemed determined to devour you. You could only bite your lip as you didn’t know what to do from here. Your goal was to please him but he didn’t seem to care about his own needs that much. Although he seems to grind his cock against the bed.

Shenhe

You we’re currently below Shenhe, her thighs pinned against your face as you tried your best to keep up with her pace. Her own lips on your lady bits, she ate you out with a fervor one would describe as completely animalistic. You couldnt help but wonder if you were any as good, your moans muffled with her weight as you tried so dearly to also return the favor. Sex with her quickly turned into overstimulation. You just couldn’t keep up with her for some reason. How could a mortal woman like herself have the actual stamina of a god? You climaxed again whimpering and crying out. She finally parted her lips lighting herself off and looking down at you. Her expression still the same as before.

“Do you want to stop here? That was your fifth orgasm.” She said. Immediately you were embarrassed, you had only been able to make her climax twice.

“N-no.. i want to make you feel good too.” You said with a pathetic determination. She smiled as she sat on you.

“Good, i like your taste. Its better than any beverage I’ve had. I’d like more if you’d let me.”