#so i like turning it on for people and seeing their reaction to it

[unintentionalseductress]

How To Court A Dragon

Warnings: MDNI, sex, monster fucking, DVP, explicit genitalia descriptions, double pp, size kink, mentions of breeding Summary: You unintentionally became his mate. Of course, you have some questions. A/n: Hey ya'll! I used to be called nanamiscocksleeve! Here it is! Now...I hope this isn't something people will shy away from because it took me a lot of effort to write this, not to mention all the weird questions I asked Google about reptilian mating parts (there's a sentence I never thought I'd write!). Also, the things about the pp...I was imagining this scene from The Shape of Water 🤭🤭🤭. Enjoy my fellow monster lovers!

“Sylus?” You glance over at the large, intimidating dragon occupying about half the space on the large fur rug you’re both lying on. The dragon, idly fiddling with a gilded coin, glances at you with a bored look in his ruby eyes.

“Yes, kitten?” he asks in his usual growl as he flicks the coin away onto a pile of gold. 

“We’ve known each other for quite some time.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose we have.”

“I was wondering…if I could ask some questions.”

“Questions?” Sylus looks at you with mild curiosity. “Hmm, let me consult my schedule... ah yes, I have a free moment between ‘hoarding treasure’ and ‘menacing villagers.’ Make it quick." He flashes you a sarcastic grin and you roll your eyes.

“Can you ever just speak normally? Wait that’s not my question!” You add hastily as Sylus’s eyes flash in amusement, clearly about to reply and further annoy you by not answering what you really had in mind. 

A deep, rumbling chuckle emanates from Sylus’s throat. “Go ahead, sweetie.”

You fiddle with the rug, wondering how to phrase your question. You had been living with, if it could be called that, a dragon for a reasonable amount of time now. Between the cave and Tarus City, there wasn’t a glimpse of another human for miles, and now, he was the closest thing to companionship that you had. 

Initially, you were worried he wasn’t interested in you beyond consuming you as a meal but as time progressed, the two of you had struck a balanced relationship. Now whenever you and Sylus ventured out into Tarus City, the inhabitants had begun to refer to you as the dragon’s mate. The thought had initially made you blush because ‘mate’ referred to something more carnal and intimate than whatever you two were. However, Sylus had made no effort to correct them, and now you had unwittingly accepted the title, and it had become part of your identity. 

There was a cavern within the long and winding cave filled with books from faraway lands and one day when you had nothing else to do, you’d come across a book entitled “The Courtship of Dragons”. It was obviously written from a human point of view but you’d read things that had left you with many questions; most of it seemed to be a work of fantasy like the author had made up some parts just to keep the reader’s attention. You’d turned these thoughts over and over in your head until you decided enough was enough and that you needed to get the answers straight from the dragon’s mouth. 

“I read something about…dragon mating. And I’m a little confused by it.” You venture out the topic hesitantly, looking at him for a reaction. Sylus’s face remains impassive as he regards you.  

“Dragon mating?” he chuckles as you avert your eyes back onto the rug, plucking at the fur as you do so. “Whatever did you read? Tell me. I’m quite curious to know.”

You clear your throat before continuing. “Well, the author said dragons have an innate sense about recognizing their mates and that they don’t…nest with other dragons. Is that true?”

Sylus rolls over onto his side contemplating. “Yes, that’s true. Dragons do mate for life. Once they find the one, they become their own unit. They make their own lair, and no other dragon is allowed to enter it. We get highly territorial if this is violated.” 

“I see.” You twiddle your thumbs together. “And…what if…your real mate is out there somewhere? Wouldn’t my presence be a downside?”

“My real mate?” Sylus asks in a vexing tone. “I’m not sure I follow.”

You look at him in disbelief before hedging on. “You know, your real mate. The dragon you’re supposed to be with.”

“You keep forgetting I’m only half dragon. Chances of my mate being completely dragon aren’t high.”

You click your tongue impatiently. “Fine, the other half-dragon or whatever. Isn’t she still out there? If she turns up in your life one day, then doesn’t that mean…” Your voice trails as you consider the implications. 

“Yes?” Sylus prompts you. 

“Well we’d have to shake hands and part ways right?” You rest your cheek on your palm, bearing your weight on your elbow as you turn to look at him. “I wouldn’t be allowed here anymore since you have a mate.”

“What makes you think my mate would be a dragon hybrid?”

The question exasperates you. “Aren’t you the one who said your mate wouldn’t be completely dragon?”

“I did. But you seem to be forgetting another possibility.”

“What? Is there a percentage of dragon she has to be for this to work?” 

Sylus lets out a booming laugh, the noise echoing richly off the walls of his cave. You look at him confoundedly, unable to fathom what made him laugh like this. 

“There’s no need to mock me.” You huff irritably as you watch his abdomen quiver from his mirth. “I’m just trying to familiarize myself with dragon etiquette.”

Sylus quiets down at your tone before he reaches out a clawed hand and flicks your forehead. “Can you really not think of another possibility?”

“No.” You curtly bite out the word. “And I don't appreciate being teased.”

The dragon shakes his head, a wide grin forming on his chiseled face. 

“You seem oblivious to the possibility that she could also be human.” The tone with which he says the words render you momentarily speechless. You hadn’t in fact, considered that as a possibility at all. How could a normal human become a mate to a dragon?

Almost as if Sylus had sensed your curiosity, he explains. “I didn’t make the rules, sweetie. Dragon hybrids are known to find human mates more often than not. Perhaps with the hope that their offspring have a chance to become completely human.” 

Fascinated with this bit of information, you turn it over in your head. “Aren’t you interested in finding her?”

“Finding her?” Sylus chuckles. “Why would I put in that effort when she’s been with me this whole time?” He raises an eyebrow at you as you process his words, then falter as the meaning finally washes over you. 

“Me?!” You sputter as Sylus watches amusedly, his tail swishing across the rug. “Just because the villagers of Tarus City think I’m your mate doesn’t make it true!”

“Indeed, it doesn’t,” Sylus agrees almost maddeningly. “What makes it true is the mark I left on your neck.” 

Your breath hitches and the moment seems to stand still, stuck in time like a black-and-white photograph. Instinctively, your fingers reach for the bite mark Sylus had left on the crook of your neck when he’d first met you. “What about it?” you ask defensively. 

Enjoying the flustered look on your face, the dragon calmly explains. “The mark would have faded by now if you weren’t fated for me. Mate marks last forever, no matter when they’re given.” He smirks, revealing his sharp teeth. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” You burst out, overwhelmed by this reveal. “ I’ve been sitting here day after day thinking at some point you’ll find your true mate and I’d have to think about how to fend for myself!”

“I’m sorry, but I’m confused about which of these is more distressing to you. The idea of moving out, or realizing you’re my mate?” Sylus asks the question with a lilt and you resist the urge to punch him, knowing you’d injure yourself against those scales.

“Both,” you say swiftly, then turn away from him. You’re taken aback as his tail suddenly wraps around your waist and pulls you against him. His chest is warm against your back and his breath tickles your neck as you squirm in his grasp. 

“Where do you think you’re going my little one?” Sylus purrs in your ears. Determined not to let him get a rise out of you, you sulk, ceasing all movements even as your heart pounds in your chest. His chin brushes against the top of your head like a territorial cat. “What? All bark and no bite?” A soft laugh emanates from him as he continues to hold your body against his and you realize…

“Are you snuggling me?” You resist the urge to look over your shoulder and Sylus presses a kiss to it in response.

“Yes. Snuggling between a dragon and their mate isn’t uncommon. Was that not in your readings?” He teases as he continues nuzzling into your warm skin which was steadily heating up under his attention. 

“But when did we become mates?” You rack your brains, trying to think amidst the fluffy fog now filling your brain as Sylus continues to show his affection. 

“It’s not something you become. It’s something you are. Do you ask the water why it flows, or why the sun is bright?” Sylus’s tail wraps further around you, the smooth scales feeling comfortably warm against your skin. “You just are. I knew it. The inhabitants of Tarus City knew it.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me.” You quip sarcastically as his nose buries itself into your hair, smelling the sweet scent of the soap you’d used earlier in the day. 

“Would you have believed me?” His inhalations were sending tingles across your scalp and you tried not to melt into his embrace which was surprisingly warm and secure. 

“I-I suppose not,” you admit begrudgingly before your eyes flutter closed. Sylus continues his tender handling, and with a sigh, you finally give in, rolling to face him and letting him embrace you against his chest. He doesn’t say anything but cups the back of your head, claws gently scratching through your scalp and you drowsily let him caress the silky locks. 

Noticing your unwillingness starting to fade, Sylus murmurs, “Does the prospect of being my mate seem less daunting now?” 

His tail wraps around the backs of your thighs and you glance up at him, blushing when you see him gazing back at you intently. Those brilliant ruby eyes, akin to those in his treasury, had an intensity you couldn’t place. It was almost like they could pierce into your very soul and see all of you bare. The thought made you feel exposed and you blink, trying to gather your thoughts. The sharp, dagger-like tip of his tail now rested on your hip, and you hesitantly began to finger it, unsure what to say.

“Not less daunting,” you start, observing how his tail flicks gently in response to your touch, the sharp, hooked scales at the very end softening and flattening against your palm. “Not in the least. You are ancient, powerful, eternal. People fear you even as they look at you in awe. A dragon is timeless, and as a human, I’m like a fleeting ember, a mere second in your life. I might have a thirst for revenge on those who wronged me, but I am an ordinary human. I don’t understand why you believe I would be a suitable mate.” 

 You steal another look at him and see that his pupils are starting to dilate, the dark center of them consuming the red. Sylus lets out a noise of frustration, seemingly ready to give up trying to convince you, but to your surprise, he takes a deep breath of fortifying patience, then grasps your chin with his fingers, ensuring you can see his face. 

“I’m going to give you one, final, absolute, piece of proof. And if you still don’t believe it, then I will eat you so that I don’t have to listen to your maddening doubts anymore.” His tone implies he’s being humorous, but you cautiously watch him, fully aware that you have no defenses against those teeth and claws. You nod, his fingers dipping with the movement. 

“You and I share half of each other’s soul. A typical human vessel wouldn’t be capable of such a thing. Not unless you are fated.” He lets go of your face and brings your ear to his chest. His heartbeat was a steady thud-thud-thud, and yet…it felt like a call. Like something was there inviting you to come home, even though you didn’t know where it was, and suddenly, you feel your own heartbeat start to resonate with his, automatically following his rhythm, inexplicable, deep, primal. He waits and you realize what he’s been trying to say all along. There was no reasoning behind mates. You just knew.

You swallow, feeling like you’d been doused with a bucket of cold water, then place your hand over his heart, feeling a little thrill as he covers it with his. A shaky breath forces its way out of you as you lean your forehead against him, a sense of enlightenment washing over you. 

“Understand now?” Sylus asks almost imploringly and your heart clenches at the tone. 

“Yes.” You gather courage and look him in the eyes. “I do.” Then in a much softer tone, you add, “I’m sorry.”

At your apology, Sylus gathers you in his arms, his embrace almost suffocating as he holds you. Your hands wrap around his back, feeling the points in his skin where the wings sprouted from his body. It felt strangely intimate to touch something like this, and you couldn’t help but run your fingers along the ridges, fascinated by the texture. Sylus’s breath catches in his throat and he loosens his grip, easing you back onto the rug. 

With confidence, you raise a hand to cup his face, your chest swelling with joy as he turns into your touch, his lips grazing your palm. You’d never seen him so vulnerable and defenseless, the fact that he was baring a secretive part of himself to you humbling. You don’t stop him as he lays over you, nuzzling your neck and letting out a series of low growls that sound strangely affectionate. 

You giggle, and he pauses, looking at you with keen interest. “Something amusing you, my love?”

“You’re like a cat,” you tease, then pet the hair between his horns. Even as his expression changes to being miffed, his eyelids become half closed. 

“I am most certainly not a cat.” He sounds affronted but makes no move to stop your petting, and more low growls escape his throat. You can’t control your mirth and the giggles now bubble out of you uncontrollably. 

“Then how come you’re purring?” You stop petting his hair and cup his face with both hands, a wide smile forming on your face as Sylus opens his eyes, which are hazy and languid. 

"That... that isn't purring," The dragon hybrid says with a slight huff. "That was a growl, and you know it."

“Or is that just how dragons purr?” You playfully run your fingers behind his ears, massaging the lobes and then back into his scalp at the base of both horns. 

Sylus tries to keep up his facade of stubbornness, but the gentle massages make him shiver with pleasure. "No, that's a growl. Purring sounds like..." He attempts to imitate a cat's purring, but it came out more like a deep rumbling that vibrated throughout his chest.

You snicker, and then an uncontrollable fit of laughter seizes you, the kind that makes your shoulders and chest shake. Here was this mythical creature, feared and worshipped, yet somehow, trying to imitate a cat despite insisting he was not behaving like one. You brush away a tear from your eye, then look at Sylus who’s sulking, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of crimson. Was this the same dragon that you had worried about being a mate to?

"You-you're insufferable, you know that?" He grumbled, even as he nuzzled his face against your neck; he couldn’t seem to help himself. You reassuringly pat his back. 

“If this is how dragons treat their mate, then I’m no longer worried.” 

“Is that so?” Sylus retreats so that he can gaze down at you. You can see how his expression is softening, betraying the depth of his fondness for you. 

“Yeah. I’m starting to come around.”

“Good. I’m glad I was able to change your mind.” Sylus takes your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles and causing your heart to flip-flop inside your chest. Your free hand idly strokes his back, still engrossed with the different textures of his skin where the wings began. 

“You seem to have a lot of thoughts about my wings,” Sylus observes as you fondle the leathery base.

“How big are they?” You ask curiously, then gasp as Sylus suddenly pins you under him, then with a rustling noise, his wings fully extend for your viewing pleasure. You look at them, enthralled by the contrasting marbled red and black membranes, little spikes lining the upper ridges. 

“About ten feet each,” Sylus says gruffly with a hint of pride. “Pure dragons are much bigger though.”

You reach out a finger, watching for signs of resistance and when he doesn’t show any, gently trace the membranes, observing how the sunlight illuminated through them like a backdrop. 

Sylus hums at your exploration, his wings twitching slightly before he lies flush against you, putting them in easier reach of your wandering fingers. He resumes that low growling as you do so, and as you watch him close his eyes, another question forms in your head.

“Sylus…are your wings sensitive when touched?”

He cracks his eyes open, and there’s a quality to them that wasn’t present before. A hint of…nervousness? 

“Yes.” He admits after a gap in a slightly breathless tone. “But only when you touch them.” 

His words only make you more captivated, and you continue to delicately stroke down the leathery expanses, the surfaces almost silky to your touch. As you do so, Sylus suddenly squeezes his eyes closed and lets out a rough moan, like he is doing his best to not lose his restraint. 

Your hands freeze as you feel his claws scrape against your clothes, digging into your soft skin as his wings swiftly drop from their extended positions, cocooning you in a swaddle of red and black.

Unsure what just happened, you gently try stroking his hair again. There had been no mention of dragons behaving like this in the books you’d read, and you were burning to ask him, but not if he wasn’t in the right state of mind.

“Sylus?” You call his name softly and hear him hum in response. “Are you ok?”

He lets out a few uneven breaths before resting his head on your chest just underneath your chin. “Yes…I’m fine. No need to worry.” 

“Is it all right if I ask something else?”

“Does it have to do with those ridiculous readings of yours again?” 

You’re about to protest but decide against it. He was behaving in a completely unprecedented manner and you weren’t about to kill the adorable mood. 

“Why are your wings wrapped around me like this?” Your hands rest on his flanks, feeling his tail swishing as it lightly hits your feet. 

It seems to take him a great deal of willpower to bring himself into a state where he can answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, mesmerizing, rumble, and you feel yourself tremble in response.

"When a dragon has a mate, it's not uncommon to wrap our wings around them. It's like a protective shield, a barrier that symbolizes possession. You might say it’s our way of claiming our beloved as ours." Sylus’s mouth ghosts your ear, and his next words cause gooseflesh to erupt on your skin. 

“Sometimes, the urge to mate becomes too strong and dragons don’t particularly enjoy being watched. The size of our wings is significant because they must be able to completely wrap around their mate as our primal instincts take over. Hides them from unwanted eyes. After all, there can be no treasure more precious to a dragon than our mate.”

A claw gently pushes away a stray lock of hair from your face and Sylus gazes longly at your face. Swallowing, you press on with your questions, despite feeling a steady rise of tingling heat beginning in your belly and slowly flooding into your chest and sex. 

“And when dragons mate…is it similar to other animals going into a rut?” 

Sylus chuckles, and his tail slides up your body, slithering between your breasts, the feel of each scale brushing against you sparking little flames of desire under your skin. His forehead rests against yours and his wings seem to tighten around you even more. 

“Rut would be the wrong word. A rut would imply something quick and with little intention other than impregnation. Dragons do not rut like most basic animals…we have a long and sensual ritual, lasting for a significant period, and the end goal is to ensure our mate’s satisfaction. Also, dragons do not have a set season like most animals. Rituals can occur anytime provided both mates are willing.”

Your mouth goes dry at the explanation, and you can see the edges of his scarlet irises beginning to darken even more, like bits of smoke mixing with magma. “A-A r-ritual?” Your tongue feels like it’s too big for your mouth and you stumble over the words. 

“Yes my little one,” Sylus purrs, and this time when his lips touch your ear, he follows it with a wet lick of his tongue, awakening a heady, primal, storm inside your gut. “The dragon breeding ritual. A crucial part of dragon courtship. During this time, the male will go into a rather intense state of need. Nothing matters beyond being close to and satisfying his mate. And the female must be prepared for a rather… passionate experience."

Your next words fall out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. 

“Are a dragon’s organs compatible with a human’s?” You cover your mouth as soon as you ask, face flushing with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to ask it so crudely, but too little too late. 

Sylus gives you an appraising look, his lips curling. “Well…simply put, yes. They’re compatible with human mating organs but they’re certainly not visually similar.” His reply astounds you and you blink, unprepared for his answer, rendered speechless. Questions buzz in your head as you mull over what you’ve been told.

“I’m guessing there’s more?” Sylus’s eyes glitter with mischief. 

“Ah…well….” You recall one last thing you had read and it was so outlandish that you weren’t sure how to put it into words. Sylus watches you patiently as you try to get your words together. “The book…the book said…that dragons are…that they have…” 

You swallow and bite the bullet. “That dragons have two.” 

Silence follows your words and Sylus’s eyes widen, before he composes himself.

“Heh. Were you purposely saving the interesting questions for last sweetie?” A cheeky grin quirks his lips and you turn your face to hide in his wings. 

“Now now. Don’t get all embarrassed with it out in the open.” Sylus grasps your chin and turns you to face him. “It looks like at least one thing in that book was right.”

Your eyes become as wide as dinner plates. “Really?”

“Yes. That bit of information is true. Male dragons do in fact have two mating organs.” 

The casual way Sylus says these words, like he’s giving a biology lecture contrasts your shell-shocked expression. Your mind could now only attempt to imagine what it looked like and it was going haywire at the discovery. 

Observing the stunned look on your face, Sylus gently nudges you. “Perhaps you shouldn’t ask questions that you’re not ready to hear the answers to, kitten.” 

Your eyes rove down over his body, taking in the wide view of his chest, leading down to narrower hips and legs that seemed to stretch for days. Then his tail, an appendage adding another 6 feet to his whole length. And somewhere in between all this, tucked away under his leather trousers were not one, but two, dragon penises. 

You try to recall your last encounter with a man, a knight, who had been keen on showing his abilities. It was fine, for lack of a better word, and you remembered how the man’s decently sized single organ shrunk once everything was over. Were Sylus’s similarly shrunken and stacked one above the other at this very moment?

At your lack of response, Sylus chuckles, then in an unexpected gesture of tenderness, strokes your hair. “I can tell this isn’t the end of it. Go on. Get it all out.”

Your mind seems to have lost its ability to think. Wetting your lips, you try to think of something reasonable to say but words have lost all meaning. After a few more minutes of silence, during which Sylus has wrapped you up again in his arms and tail, enjoying your closeness, do you finally venture forward with an inquiry.  

“Why two?”

Sylus makes an odd noise like he was choking down a laugh. He lets out a puff of air, chortling. “Ah, kitten. If only I knew. There are two theories, both of which don’t have much evidence to support them.” Sylus turns onto his side and you yip as you’re sandwiched between his wings, the upper one covering you like a blanket as Sylus moves into a more comfortable position, moving your body closer to his.

“The first theory is that because dragon pairings are rare, two organs help increase the chances of a successful pregnancy. The other…” he trails off and his smile becomes positively wicked before he continues. “The other suggests that having two serves no other purpose than to heighten the woman’s pleasure.”

An uncontrollable shiver runs down your spine and you feel your entire body become hot. Your voice is hushed as you ask, “And they…both…go into the same…?”

Catching on to what you were implying, Sylus chuckles at your reaction, your embarrassment only fueling his enjoyment. It was so tempting to tease you into a flustered mess.

"Ah, you're catching on, aren't you? Yes, both of them go... in the same place. And together, no less." He leans in, his mouth close to your ear again. "Can't you picture it, my dear? The sensation of both of them, inside you at the same time..."

You squeak at the graphic description and bury your face into his chest. “Ok, I’ve heard enough! Stop!” You try to calm your racing heart but Sylus’s low purr as he’d explained dragon anatomy was still ringing in your ears. There was a burning curiosity to ask him how it worked, how it fit but you were positive you would drop dead from the embarrassment. 

You twitch when Sylus puts his calloused hands on your back, soothingly stroking your skin. “It’s all right my jewel. I know it’s a lot of information to process. Take your time. I’m yours after all.” 

At his last few words, you lean away and glance at his face. “You’re mine?”

“Yes,” Sylus murmurs, the tenderness in his eyes becoming more evident. “As you are mine. I’m equally your mate as well.” There’s a tinge of possessiveness in his voice that you hadn’t heard before and it was making you feel weak; the thought of belonging to Sylus, of him belonging to you. There was an ancient concept of souls being bound at play and suddenly you find that you’re highly attuned to his mood; the atmosphere has changed, and part of you can feel the intense want that’s filling Sylus’s bloodstream, can sense the depth of his emotional bond as it echoes in his chest. Your body seems to synergize with his, each rush of blood, each dilation of the pupils, and every sigh that’s being shoved back all come into clarity. You reach out to touch his neck and the mating mark on yours seems to hum with life, drawing you closer to Sylus’s physical state. 

Sylus looks intoxicated as he drinks in the sight of you, soft and pliant in his arms despite having done nothing but talk to you about courtship. You were still shy, but he can sense there’s now a primal instinct that’s beginning to take over. His restraint was at a limit but he waits for you to make the first move, knowing he’d regret it if his first act of intimacy with you was for his own selfishness. His voice dropped even lower,  a rough, possessive growl.

“Be mine, my precious treasure. Be with me. Be Mine to claim, mine to protect, and mine to possess."

His words resonate deep within you and the overwhelming feelings you’d been holding back break like a dam. With trembling fingers, you stroke his cheek, dragging a fingertip across his lips, your breath catching as Sylus nibbles the digit. 

Gathering courage, you ask him softly, “Can I see?”

A thrum seems to vibrate through the air and Sylus nods. “You wish to see all of me? I’m yours.”

Sensing you were too timid at the moment, Sylus undoes his trousers, and they rustle as he slips them down his legs. Still in his embrace, covered with his wings, you wait, then trail your hands down his heated abdomen. His heart pounds in his chest as you do so, feeling the unfamiliar terrain of skin and scales before your hand finally reaches its destination. Sylus’s harsh breathing can be heard as he waits for you to touch him but when you do so, you’re slightly puzzled. 

Your fingers brush against smooth scales where a normal man’s genitals would be. You venture further, wondering. 

“Sylus? They are here right?” 

You hear a choked laugh, then he nuzzles the top of your head. 

“Yes, my love. Like I said, visually, I’m not like a man.” His voice is gruff as he tries to explain. His hands roam across your body, squeezing the soft flesh and purring at the feeling. 

“Then where…?”

“They're hidden beneath my scales, darling.” There’s a breathless quality as he speaks. “Just keep…petting me there.” 

Sylus closes his eyes for a moment, his body trembling as you continue to touch him. The sensation of your fingers tracing the scales on his skin was both soothing and arousing, making it difficult to hold back the possessive roar that threatened to escape his throat. Watching your reaction as you explored the area where his scales ended and something more intimate began was threatening to snap his will in two like a twig. 

“Oh!” Your eyes widen as you suddenly feel a bump starting to make itself evident. 

“There…” Sylus’s voice is gravelly. “Go ahead, my dear... Lift my scales gently. Just a little...”

You feel like little electric currents are running nonstop under your skin as you follow his orders. Your sex pulses between your closed legs, all the courtship explanations still fresh in your mind. You carefully start to lift the scales over the bump, curiosity piqued as they give way to a sort of shallow slit, then before you can go any deeper, you feel something hard and moist rise out of the patch. 

Whatever you had been imagining didn’t even come close to the real thing. You watch, transfixed, as Sylus’s twin cocks spring free, standing proudly in your palm. One was higher up on his body, and the other sat lower, and the lower one was slightly longer than the upper. Both of them were hot to the touch, beads of precum weeping from their slits. Colossal compared to a human, their surfaces were smooth but ridged in parts, in a way that resembled scales, yet softer. They were both coated in a sort of viscous, translucent, liquid, exuding from the cocks. 

Sylus groans as he feels the heat of your palm against his cocks. In a constricted voice he asks, “Well? What do you think?”

Fascinated, you gently grip the lower one, silently noting the size of it compared to your forearm, and wrap your fingers around it, barely managing to make them meet around the engorged column. A low growl leaves Sylus as you start to pump the smooth, velvety, column, observing how the shorter top one also responds, pulsing in time with its pair. A slick, wet noise fills the air as you stroke him and Sylus’s hips begin to rock against your movements. His mouth is open and he’s panting, sweat gathering on his brow as you experimentally continue to touch him. 

The scales that lined his cock were incredibly squishy and malleable, not at all having resemblance to the hard and sharp ridges on the rest of his body. As more of the lubricating fluid began to gather on his lengths, you wonder at the texture of those scales against the palm of your hand, and suddenly, start imagining how they would feel inside your cunt. Rubbing, stroking, providing extra stimulation as they nestled deep inside you. You bite your lip and steal a look at Sylus, heart jolting when you find him gazing right at you, and judging by his expression, he can feel the longing building deep inside your body. 

“I can smell it, kitten.” He inhales deeply, your scent filling his senses like an aphrodisiac. “Your arousal. It’s as potent as the daturas on the mountainside.” His cheek brushes against yours and you freeze as he kisses the corner of your lips. It was so unexpected and sweet and you turn towards him. 

“Bloom for me,” Sylus whispers before his lips lay over yours, capturing them in a deep and passionate kiss. Your breath catches in your throat and it’s like the kiss had opened a gate, all your raw desires coming loose. Like a ball of unwinding yarn, your arms draw around Sylus’s neck, pressing as possibly close as you can to him, your mouth opening sweetly to offer him your tongue.

The unbridled ardor of your reaction has Sylus groaning like a drowning man, his tongue slipping deeper into your wet cavern, sipping, sampling, and savoring the flavors that were unique to you. The rushing thrill of your surrender was a dizzying upward spiral as his hands roamed over your body, cupping your clothed breasts as his wings quivered from the tingling delight of being wrapped so snugly around your form. 

Sylus breaks the kiss and his long, dexterous, tongue licks a line down the side of your neck, sucking over the point where your pulse beat hotly, and into the crook of your shoulder. You gasp as his teeth sink into the flesh, a nip of pain flaring through you before Sylus soothes the sting with his tongue. 

“You taste as delicious as you smell my jewel,” he murmurs sensually, and continues his journey across your body, biting and sucking at your collarbone before resting between your breasts, nuzzling his face into the warmth. 

His tail has managed to slip between your legs and the jagged ridges have all smoothed into a streamlined piece of muscle, teasingly moving between your thighs, just high enough for the upper side to rub against your underwear, playing into the wetness that was already starting to gather. You moan at the stimulation, barely enough to even scratch the surface of your raging flames, and hook your leg over Sylus’s hip to give you more access. The thick tail presses into your slit, rhythmically dragging the fabric against your engorged clit as his hands busy themselves undoing the laces at the back of your dress. 

You shiver despite the rising heat as the dress falls apart at the back and Sylus drags the garment off over your head, his breath catching as he finally gets his first, unobscured look at you. His eyes rove appreciatively over your body, his blood humming in his veins as he watches your skin become ruddy, the light filtering over it through his wing casting a soft, shadowy glow. Your nipples were perked and hard, your skin smooth and creamy, with little curls of hair poking out from underneath the sides of your panties. 

You whimper as the very tip of his tail wedges into the apex of your folds, rubbing the soaked fabric directly onto your clit, sending skitters of electricity through your system. The air seems to become balmy as you breathe, harsh pants leaving you as want grows in your core, the overwhelming need to bite down and mark him back as he’d done for you becoming palpable with each passing second. 

Sylus raises a clawed finger and brings it to your mouth, which you obligingly suck, followed by a sharp bite that makes his eyes dilate and brings a grin to his lips. He slowly pulls the digit back, letting it slide between your lips and stroking the wetness onto a nipple, enjoying the way your breath becomes ragged and how your core clenches against his sinful ministrations. 

“Sylus…” you whimper, feeling tension curling in the pit of your stomach like a bow that’s been drawn too tight. His only response was a hum, his head dipping down leisurely to capture your other nipple, licking circles on it with the tip of his tongue, not unlike the motions his tail was currently drawing onto your puffy clit. His thumb and forefinger tweak your other hardened peak, pulling and pinching methodically as the moans of your pleasure fill the chamber. Now and then you feel the scrape of his monstrous teeth against the delicate skin of your nipple, just intense enough to bring a small lick of fear into you before you feel the reassuring slip of his tongue. 

Your sighs fill your head, body yielding to him, melting against the silken leathery embrace of his wings, eyes closing as the sweetening ache inside you builds. You stir as you feel his tail shift, and your panties are dragged down your legs, exposing your swollen sex. The unexpected feeling of his scales is suddenly made present as his tail lays flat between your folds, wetting itself with your slick and gliding smoothly against your aroused pussy. Your mouth opens to let out a high-pitched whine as the smoothened scales add extra stimuli to your bud, your hips moving with him and seeking out more friction. Sylus finally releases your nipple as he feels your desperate humps, and maneuvers you so that you’re straddling him, body balanced on his tail as it continues to pleasure you.

Your voice keens as your hands splay on his hard chest, the slippery appendage rocking against your clit, feeling the differences in the size of the scales while sliding closer to the base as the dagger-shaped tip tickles your chin. Your mouth instinctively moves to take it, sucking on it pacifyingly to ground yourself as your hips undulate over the rest of the sinew. You boldly glance at Sylus and his eyes are sanguineous, uninhibitedly gazing at the sight of you hot and bothered, seeking carnal satisfaction that he knows only his body can provide. 

The end of his tail withdraws from your mouth and teasingly draws back down to your breast, curling around a nipple and squeezing while he maintains the steady movement he knows you crave between your legs. With nothing to muffle your noises, your voice grows steadily louder, echoing off the high walls of the cave as Sylus guides you toward the abyss of gratification. 

“My body is yours little one,” Sylus says in a harsh whisper that has your senses on edge. You feel the flutter of his wings as they enfold you again, a little space of privacy where only you and he exist. 

“Use me for your pleasure.” His hand cups your cheek and his movements become frenzied, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you writhe over him, trying to find release. 

A soft haze seems to settle around you as your body orgasms. You feel the repetitive little spasms of your clit mirrored in your core as they become longer and more intense, flooding your body with sinful delight as you sob out your need. Your eyes are shut tight, the world becoming an incoherent mix of color and light where nothing is solid except for your mate as he pushes you through your heady climax. Even as your heartbeat turns erratic, you can sense the changes in him too as he scents the salty tang of your relief as your body relaxes. You gasp, steadying yourself as Sylus gently withdraws his tail, letting you collapse on his chest as you try to come back down to earth.

You feel his claws soothingly scratch your back and gratefully nuzzle into his chest before taking a steadying breath and peering over your shoulder at his neglected cocks. They were still standing, colossal and proud, with thick pearlescent beads forming on the tip. The slippery viscous fluid was now being exuded copiously, lubricating the entire length.

You crawl over to them, and Sylus lets out a gasp of surprise as your tongue darts out to taste one, running it over the weeping head. You taste salt on his skin and bob your head down a little lower, taking as much as you can, and Sylus fists the rug, his teeth biting his lower lip as he tries to control the raging urge to take you right there. 

Barely able to deepthroat him, you come back up, letting the moistened cock slip out of your lips before you gather both between your hands, squeezing the bases together before sucking both tips back into your mouth. Your jaw stretches wide to accommodate them, only taking him about halfway before coming back up for air. The lubricant covering them was tasteless but aided their path into your mouth and towards the back of your throat. Sylus thrusts into the inviting wetness as he tries not to choke you. You suck playfully, wet noises issuing from your mouth as you do so before Sylus suddenly jerks your head back, strings of spit connecting your lips to both heads.

“Not like this…” His voice is ragged. Swiftly, he flips you onto your back, drawing your ankles to rest on his shoulders as your thighs part for him. Your hole is quivering with anticipation as you feel one of the thick erections probe your entrance. 

“Breathe sweetie,” Sylus reminds you, his eyes growing steadily more animalistic as he pushes into you. You gasp at the feeling, then your eyes widen as Sylus gently splits you apart, your folds giving way to his massive proportions. You sniff, tears in your eyes at his size. There was pain along with the pleasure as your walls adjusted to him. 

Sylus’s wings gather you close to him, cradling you against his body as he strokes your face, whispering encouragement to you as he continues to sheathe himself into the hot moisture of your cunt. You squirm, the stretch foreign and uncomfortable, unsure what to do.

“Relax my little one. It’s ok.” Sylus kisses away your tears. “Remember we were made for each other. We’re meant to fit.” He halts, nearly fully inside, and your sniffs fade as you slowly adjust to him. Sylus thrusts softly, and you whimper, feeling so full impaled helplessly on his generous size. As he continues those deep strokes, your body seems to easen, the tension trickling away and giving rise to a whole new sensation. Your breath catches as you feel the thick mushroom head kiss your cervix with each stroke, the lower cock slapping against your buttocks with each move. The scales you had been touching earlier dragged smoothly along your inner walls with minimal resistance, flattening every time he pushed in, and erotically stimulating them as he withdrew. Every inch of your sex felt like it was being touched all at once and your eyes close dreamily as you lose yourself to the growing flutters of ecstasy. 

The next set of delighted moans are music to his ears and Sylus sensually rolls his hips each time, determined to wring out every tiny noise possible from you. Your face scrunches up in pleasure as he takes you, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you keep thinking about how the second one would feel. Your breasts bounce as he fucks you, and soon you’re breathing his name, hands grasping his forearms as your bodies fuse together.  

Sylus sees your eyes glazing over with need, your mind switching to a state where all that mattered was the hedonistic rush of your bodies working together in harmony. He pauses, interrupting his rhythm as he angles his second cock at your entrance.

You moan as you feel it but when Sylus pushes, there’s no resistance, your cunt already sloppy from his previous thrusts. The action puts his upper cock in contact with your Gspot, and your cunt feels wonderfully pliant as you feel both of them working in tandem to bring you to another peak. The added thickness combined with the scales' stimulation on both surfaces brought you to a realm of delight you hadn’t thought was possible as he starts to fuck into you with purpose, certain that you are no longer in pain.

His teeth are gritted as Sylus ruts into you marveling at the tightness of your cunt, how every clench and spasm felt on his dicks, knowing he was responsible for each one. Your combined juices start to pool at the base of his cocks, leaving a sticky ring of arousal. The wet squelch of your cunt fills the air and Sylus sees your folds, still slick from the interaction with his tail and he’s determined to make you lose control another time. 

You whine in protest when you feel him halt again and Sylus hushes you as he withdraws his upper dick and lets it sit with a moist plop back between your folds. The runny juices slide down and coat your pussy and you can feel the soft ridged scales now nestled at your most sensitive spot and you realize what he intended to do a second before it happened. With a smooth brush, Sylus buries himself back in your cunt and you feel the tingling stimulation of the scaled ridges sliding through your folds and hitting your clit one after the other. You nearly shriek at the feeling, almost on the border of overstimulation as Sylus sets up a brutal pace, his hips slamming into yours. 

Your face screws up and your eyes are squeezed closed as all your pleasure spots are stroked at the same time, your gspot and clit pulsing wetly. Sylus growls, his body pistoning in hot need as he chases his orgasm, seeking release. Your entire being feels like it’s slipping away, your cries of delight the only thing that can be heard. 

“Cum for me my love,” Sylus says brokenly, breathless and enraptured at the way you look, his legs shaking from the effort of controlling his climax before you had yours. Your body arches off the rug to feel the slick push of his cock and scales at a different angle and your toes curl as you finally let go and orgasm for the second time. It robs you of your thoughts, little brushes from the spikes continuing to push through every tremor you feel as the hot waves of gratification flood your system. 

Sylus’s hips stutter as he feels your walls fluttering around him, and lets out a feral roar as his climax hits him, his balls tightening up in urgent release and they spill their load. His abdomen clenches, his breathing rough as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. You hold onto him as you feel each spasm of his cocks both inside and out, one filling your walls with thick jets of his seed, the other dripping his hot, sticky cum onto your clit, mixing with your fluids as it drips messily into your slit, marking you as his in the most primal way possible. 

It takes a while for him to recover, nestling against you, and you’re content to feel his weight on your body as you stroke his hair. After a period of silence Sylus hums and rolls you over so that you’re on top of him. The action dislodges his cock from your channel and you quickly clench your hole closed, determined to keep all of him inside you, even though your folds are dripping from his essence and leaking onto him. 

“Mine…” he purrs as he noses your neck and you smile at him, brushing his cheeks with your thumb. A deep sense of belonging and satisfaction courses through both of you as you lay together in the afterglow of your courtship. 

“Rest for now kitten.” Sylus’s eyes are heavy with sleep as he cradles you on his chest. Your body felt wonderfully achy from your lovemaking. 

“I hope the hatchlings look like you,” he murmurs tiredly, and you blink as your ability to process starts coming back to you. 

“Hatchlings?” 

“That’s what we call our young.” Sylus tenderly cups your cheek and kisses you. “I’ll be certain to fill you a few more times to ensure it happens.” 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

@tokyorevengersrin @brekkersgf @ladyparamount @otomegamesforlife @shddyboo @supernaturalbaesduh @sweets-kozume @theimmortalbuns @venussakura @prisjean @laddelulu30 @lethargiccryptid @ravenclaw-jojo @redactedbimbo @crypt-0rchid @fattybattysblog @xinnn6 @xiaoderrrr @evansdmitri @ravenclaw-jojo @cordidy @hesperisms @redactedbimbo @erebus-et-eigengrau @prisjean @cheesemachine44

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Heritance

There's not much left for Tim in his parents' wills. Or, well, not much by his standards - the rest of the family, barring Bruce and Damian, think he is absolutely loaded and too full of himself to care. Which is maybe a little bit true; receiving about a dozen properties across the world, a trust fund and a wide collection of artifacts that his parents have accumulated through years of their archeological escapades is a lot by middle class standards.

But Tim knows how much money Drakes actually had, and a few old houses and an assembly of junk seems like not much in comparison.

In any case, it's all rather useless in Tim's position. He has no interest in traveling aside from when he has to for a mission, and he couldn't give less shits about archeology even if he tried. The trust fund is fine, he guesses, but it's not like he needs it, what with being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and one of the Wayne Wards.

So, as morbid as it is, the best reaction he can muster at his inheritance is a shrug and a mention in his mile-long list of 'things I need to figure out when I have time'. Which basically means he'll maybe get to it when he's old and retired, and not any sooner, because Tim Drake the CEO and Red Robin the vigilante are both very, very busy people who never have time.

Naturally, his life has other plans, and it's only two or three months later that Tim finds himself breaking through the balcony window of his own apartment in Praha.

It's at that moment, when he's lying on top of a soft persian rug, surrounded by glass shards and wondering if this move was enough to lose his tail that he realizes his inheritance might be slightly more than just a few properties and some boxes with old things.

Because, through his own heavy breathing, he hears a thoughtful, slightly sarcastic voice from inside the room, "I guess the door was too hard to figure out for you, wasn't it."

He sits up, turning his head so sharply it almost snaps. His eyes immediately fall on a boy not much older than him, sitting with one leg thrown over the other on the dark red couch near the wall. He looks like he clearly belongs here: white, vintage collar shirt and black, high-waist trousers, a silver ring on his thumb that looks too old to have been bought in this century, dark raven hair and perfect porcelain skin.

And he is reading a newspaper. Like a slightly bleeding costumed guy in a domino mask breaking the window and falling onto the carpet is just another Tuesday.

Hold on, this is Tim's house! He double-checked the address, there's no mistake!

"Who are you?" He demands, frowning, as his hands reach to the birdarangs out of habit.

"Keeper of Doors," the boy answers, not looking up and flipping the page, "And you're the Drakes' heir, I assume."

Tim blinks. The response provides no actual answers, it only creates more questions. "What doors?" He asks because the rest of the points can most likely be addressed later. Like the issue of his busted secret identity, right.

The boy sighs and closes the newspaper, folding it in half and uncrossing his legs to sit a bit straighter. "Doors, capital 'D'. The ones that lead everywhere you want."

"The what?.." Tim repeats, dumbfounded and lost in this unexpected nonsense. The boy gives him a truly unimpressed look, his eyebrow twitching. Then, he stands up - Tim's fingers close around the birdarang again - and steps towards the nearest door, grabbing the handle. His feet make absolutely no sound.

"Drake manor," the boy announces and pushes the door open. He doesn't step through, however, instead just standing in the doorway and turning back to Tim, gesturing for him to look.

Tim does.

Seeing the familiar hall, the one he's seen so many times, the one he walked through every day before he moved out, makes him realize a few things at once. One, he needs to revise the list of houses he inherited since it looks like they are not just properties but a map of teleportation points, most likely. Two, his parents knew full well he didn't need the trust fund, it wasn't for him, it was probably for this boy, who may or may not be the, well, gatekeeper. Three, if the first part of his inheritance turned out to be this, he is going to need to call in Zatanna to sort through the collection of his parents' artifacts lest something turns out to be actually cursed in there.

Four, he's been staring at the boy and gaping like a fish for longer than its socially acceptable.

"...What's your name?" He asks, suddenly conscious about the fact he was kind of rude before. The boy snorts, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he closes the door back.

"Danny," he introduces and snaps his fingers. The glass shards around Tim move all at once, rising from the ground and going back towards the window, like a reversed video recording. A second later, the balcony window looks as good as new, not a crack in the glass. "And you?"

"Red Ro-" Tim starts, but then pauses. Fuck it, he might as well, "Tim."

Danny waves his hand in the air, like snatching something out of nowhere, and, just like that, there's a box that looks suspiciously like a first-aid kit in his hands.

"Nice to meet you, Tim. Now, get over here and stop ruining my carpet with your blood."

[moonstonejpg]

ours (k.bakugou x reader)

"your hands are tough, but they are where mine belong in"

sum. bakugou is having a bad week, thankfully his girl is always there to make the bad days a little better

cw: a little angst, fluff at the end!

i hate hate hate paparazzi!! loosely based off of this and the song ours by taylor swift

It had been a rough week for Katsuki.

First, the hero rankings were announced, and he found himself at #15—not even in the top ten. And he swore it didn't bother him, that the rankings were just a stupid popularity contest. But you saw the way his shoulders slightly slumped in disappointment and the way his fists clenched so hard that the half-moon imprints of his nails in his skin stayed for hours after you had smoothed his fingers out.

It broke your heart to see him like that—and then yesterday he got into a silly fight with Izuku, one that was filmed and taken way out of context by thousands of people on the internet. Which in turn prompted the resurgence of people saying he didn't even deserve to be on the list at all, let alone at #15.

bakugou is mentally unstable lol

i worry about his gf tbh, those anger issues are a huuuge red flag

right?! i hope that poor girl gets out of that

she seems so sweet, he’s probably threatening her or something

It was just one hit after another for him.

And now, as he stares out the window at the crowd of paparazzi with a clenched jaw, the only thought in your mind is how this is strike three. All he wanted to do was take you out for a nice dinner to thank you for being so supportive this week, but he couldn't even do that without a swarm of media leeches waiting outside.

"Kats, we don't have to go. We can just stay here." You say quietly, worried eyes set on his tense shoulders.

"No," he growls, "I'm not letting them ruin this too." He positions himself in front of you before taking a few hesitant steps out the front door of your shared apartment building.

His warm hand envelopes your own, fingers threading through before tugging you behind him, half shielding you with his large body. The flash of the cameras and the noise of the crowd makes your vision blur, but Katsuki is moving fast, fingers tightly gripping your own while his gaze is laser focused on the awaiting black car parked on the other side of the street.

Everything is moving so fast, the shouts of the various reporters melting together around you. But you can't hear a word they say, the sound drowning out any specific words, until—

“Why him?”

And you nearly miss the step below as you freeze. The question has you rearing back as if you'd been hit, your eyes dancing towards the sound of the question. You see him right away, a male reporter who is nearly frothing at the mouth for a reaction. The reporter leans forward, eyeing you hungrily as he waits for an answer. And usually, you wouldn't give them any time of day, the daily harassment towards you and every other pro-hero and their significant other almost daily a good enough reason toignore any of their probing questions. But how could you ignore this?

“Why him?” you parrot back, white-hot anger burning through your body at a rapid rate. You don’t think twice before you’re ripping your wrist out of the blonde's hand and taking angry strides towards the reporter. You're nearly toe-to-toe with the man, and while he is a full head taller than you, he shrinks a bit from the look on your face.

Katsuki comes up beside you, gently tugging at your wrist.

“It’s not worth it.” He says lowly, looking down at you with something like sadness tinged in his eyes. And your heart cracks, picking up on the one thing he isn’t saying but you know he’s thinking.

That he’s not worth it.

And you can’t have that, you can't have Katsuki thinking that he isn’t worth any of this, because he is. He is worth everything, and despite being in each other’s lives for years now, the fact that he still doesn’t see that is devastating.  

Your body begins shaking from a mix of anger and adrenaline as you look at the crowd around you. A slow hush falls over the crowd, as if they are waiting with bated breath to see what you have to say.

“Because he is the kindest human I have ever had the pleasure of knowing; kinder than any of you will ever be. And what has he ever done to you to make you so obsessed with twisting every move he makes, every word he utters into something that makes him look like the bad guy? And for a quick buck? You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” After shooting a glare around the crowd, you keep your chin high as you grab a stunned Katsuki’s hand and drag him towards the car.

You gently push him in, keeping a hand smoothed over the back of your dress as you crawl in after him, slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.

The car ride to the restaurant is eerily quiet, and as the adrenaline begins to leak out of your body, your brain catches up to what you did. And yeah—they did need to be told off, but you start to wonder if this is something that will get him into trouble.

You weren’t a hero and you didn’t have a lick of media training, why did you think causing a scene would be a good idea? The thoughts spiral in, and you want to bury your face in your hands as dread slithers its way into your stomach.

When you get inside the building, you are ushered towards the back of the restaurant by the host, presumably to where your table is located. But before you round the corner, Katsuki is tugging you into a dimly lit closet, fingers making quick work of the lock. Even after the door is bolted shut, he stands and faces it, as you just watch the outline of the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders.

“Kats?” You say quietly, a hand hovering over his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I just—”

He shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh pushing its way out of his mouth.  

“No, you—” He shakes his head again, then turns around to face you, his body crowding you up against the wall. His eyes are dark, twinkling with emotions you can’t place. Both of his hands come up to gently cradle your face, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

You blink up at him, confused.

“Not only was that the hottest thing I have ever seen, but—well, that was the first time anyone has stuck up for me before.”

“I would do it again—anything for you really. You’re worth it. And I know that’s hard for you to believe, but you are. They can say whatever they want, but I know in my heart that I do not deserve you, and that you ” You say quietly, eyes locked on his. He smiles, eyes shining, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” He whispers in the dark of the room, thumbs caressing your cheeks.

“I love you Kats.”

“I love you too. Now, how about we ditch this place?” He asks, leaning back to tug at his tie, before bending forward to loop it around your neck. “I think that new ice cream parlor is open. So, sundaes on me?”

You nod, a giggle escaping when he bends down and tugs the ends of the tie, your body falling into him. He lets out a gentle laugh, the sound like a gentle breeze on a hot day. It has your smile stretching across your face, your heart singing in response.

He reaches down to unlock the door, but when he flicks the lock back, nothing happens. Katsuki tries again, but again, nothing happens. It doesn’t budge, not the second time he tries or the fifth, or even the tenth time he tries. On the eleventh try his hand slips from the lock, his eyes colliding with yours.

It’s silent for a few seconds, and then a laugh bursts out of him, followed by another and another. The sound has the grin staying locked in place on your face, relief flowing through you at the change in his mood.

“We—we’re stuck.” He gasps out, hands falling on his knees as he hunches over, deep laughs spilling out of him. It isn’t long before you are on the floor next to him, trying to catch your breath around your own laughter.

[lucy-ashton]

OMG, I actually remember seeing the post OP is talking about a few days ago, and honestly, I just rolled my eyes. My reaction was basically, “Ugh, here we go again—another person spouting nonsense.” It seemed like one of those random bad takes that would best get ignored and forgotten. But now, people actually have to break down why it’s such an absurd and destructive idea? That blows my mind.

Think about it: AO3 is a nonprofit platform built to celebrate creativity, not some popularity contest like social media. The idea of introducing a “dislike” button there is completely tone-deaf. Writers share their work for free—not for validation, but out of passion. A “dislike” button would invite unnecessary negativity and turn a supportive space into one that feels hostile and judgmental.

What’s even more ridiculous is how self-explanatory this should be. If someone doesn’t like a fic, the solution is ridiculously simple—just… don’t read it. Why does everything need a public opinion button? AO3 isn’t asking for feedback on what it offers—it’s giving people a platform to enjoy and explore content without the toxic dynamics of other sites.

It’s surreal to think that this idea even gained enough traction to be addressed. Why waste energy on negativity when the platform is literally designed to encourage enjoyment and freedom of expression? I swear to God, some ideas are so bad they shouldn’t even require a response, yet here we are.

heard someone say archive of our own should install a "dislike" button and I thought I should say this: no, there's absolutely no need for archive of our own to install a "dislike" button.

why? because archive of our own isn't tiktok or youtube or twitter/x where users can monetize their content. archive of our own is a nonprofit site run by fans for fans, which means every content — every fanfic — you see on archive of our own was made out of pure love and passion from the artists/authors.

ao3 authors write because writing about these characters is their happiness and passion. they write for themselves, but they were generous enough to share with you their creations.

they're not "content creators" the way tiktokers or youtubers or instagram models are. they don't "make content" for views and engagements that can be monetized.

so no, you don't get to "grade their works" unless they specifically and directly ask you to.

you don't get to "say what you dislike about their works" unless they specifically and directly ask you to.

you don't get to "dislike" works that are not made specifically to please you in the first place. you're just a guest in someone's house, a house in which they let you in because they were kind, you don't get to roam around their house and say what you dislike about their furniture. you don't get to roam around their house and say you "dislike their house".

of course, you can have your opinion about the house its host invites you in. but if it's a negative one and you find yourself not liking the house, the polite things for you to do is excuse yourself and leave without telling them you dislike their house.

and just because you personally dislike the house doesn't mean the house is "ugly" either. the house you dislike could be a favorite, most luxurious place to many others.

my point is, don't be entitled by wanting the rights to voice your disapproval of things that you get to enjoy for free. don't be entitled by wanting the rights to voice your disapproval of things that were made out of love and passion — things the artists made for themselves for fun.

it makes you look like an entitled jerk with main character syndrome. the universe does not revolve around you.

now repeat after me: don't like don't read. no one forces you to continue reading a fic you don't like. quietly leave instead of being rude to authors who write for free because writing is their source of comfort.

people are so used to contents that were made because it's a trend / contents like tiktok that were made with the main purpose of reaching high engagement and making profits that they forget sometimes things can be made out of love and be made just for fun. sometimes things are supposed to just be for people to enjoy, and if some people don't enjoy them, then they can simply leave without being unnecessary unkind.

[reiding-writing]

Maybe a fic where Cold! Reader has been letting her softer side show around Spencer, and one day when she lets a smile slip he tries to tell her that he likes her smile??

THE SMILE THAT SLIPPED — SPENCER REID!

you don’t feel things like this. you don’t. ever. except maybe you actually do.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 2.4k | fluff | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n— this came out to exactly 2400 words and it’s so satisfying

The bullpen is quieter than usual.

The exhaustion of a closed case hangs in the air, making the usual rustling of paperwork and distant hum of conversation feel almost comforting. You sit at your desk, the last few reports in front of you, fingers idly toying with your pen as you force yourself to focus.

It’s late, but no one’s rushing to leave. The team lingers, unwinding in the way they always do after a case—half-finished conversations, shared glances, a collective sense of relief.

Across from you, Spencer is flipping through a file at an alarming speed, his knee bouncing beneath the desk. It’s a familiar sight, one you’ve grown used to. You don’t realize you’re watching until his voice breaks through the background noise.

*"*You know, statistically speaking, people who work late tend to make more errors in their reports. Fatigue impairs cognitive function—kind of like being drunk, actually. So, technically…” He looks up, eyes bright with something innocently fascinating. “We’re all just sleep-deprived, paper-pushing drunks right now,”

It’s not the words themselves. It’s the way he says it—earnest and slightly amused, like he didn’t mean for it to sound like a joke but realised it as he was saying it.

Before you can stop it, a small smile tugs at your lips. It’s brief, barely there, but it happens.

And Spencer sees it.

He stills mid-page turn, hazel eyes widening just slightly. His lips part, like he’s about to say something and then thinks better of it. But after a beat, his voice comes, softer this time.

“I like your smile,”

The words hit like a misfired shot, straight to the chest. Your breath catches.

You freeze.

For a moment, the bullpen fades—the low murmur of voices, the shuffle of papers, the distant ringing of a phone. All of it disappears beneath the weight of his words.

People have complimented you before. You know how to brush them off, how to let them roll off your back like they mean nothing. But this? This is different.

Because Spencer isn’t saying it in passing. He isn’t trying to flatter you or win you over. He’s just saying it, like a quiet observation. Like a fact.

And that unsettles you more than anything.

Your expression shutters in an instant. The walls go up before you can think, instinctual and sharp-edged. You look away, shaking your head slightly, as if dismissing the moment entirely.

“Get back to your report, Reid.”

You don’t wait for his reaction. You don’t want to see it. Instead, you focus on the papers in front of you, grip tightening around your pen.

But even as you force your attention elsewhere, his words linger. Nestle into the corners of your mind.

And that brief, impossible warmth in your chest?

You don’t want to think about what it means.

You don’t look at him again.

Not when he shifts slightly in his seat, the rustle of paper between his fingers halting for a fraction of a second. Not when he exhales softly, as if debating whether to say something more.

You just keep your eyes fixed on your report, willing the moment to disappear.

Your voice had been even, detached—just the way you intended. But there had been something else underneath. Too quiet for him to catch, you hope.

Spencer doesn’t say anything, but you feel the weight of his stare. A hesitation. A question he doesn’t voice. Then, slowly, the sound of him turning a page resumes, though less fluid than before.

Still, you don’t look up.

You can’t.

—

For the rest of the day, you keep your distance.

It’s not unusual for you to be reserved—stoic, even. No one questions it when you opt out of lingering conversations, when you choose solitude over small talk. But today, you’re avoiding Spencer in a way that’s painfully deliberate.

Every time he moves near, you find a reason to move elsewhere.

When he passes your desk to grab a file, you suddenly decide you need something from the break room.

When he glances your way during a briefing, you keep your gaze firmly on the case notes in front of you.

When he lingers near the coffee pot, shifting as if working up the nerve to speak, you bypass him entirely, opting for a bottle of water instead.

And Spencer notices.

At first, he thinks it’s a coincidence. Maybe you’re just having an off day. Maybe you’re distracted.

But by the fifth time it happens, the crease between his brows deepens.

Did he overstep?

He replays the moment in his mind, trying to pinpoint where he went wrong. He hadn’t meant anything by it—at least, not in a way that should’ve pushed you away.

He had just… liked your smile.

And maybe he shouldn’t have said it out loud, but it had slipped past his lips before he could stop it. Before he could remind himself that you don’t do things like this.

That you don’t let people in.

So why had you smiled in the first place?

And why does it bother him so much that you won’t even look at him now?

—

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter.

That the tension in your chest is nothing. That his words had been just that—words.

But as much as you try to shake them, they follow you.

“I like your smile,”

It had been soft. Unassuming. No expectation, no ulterior motive. Just an observation, spoken like a truth he hadn’t realised he was sharing.

And that’s what unsettles you the most.

You’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, making sure no one sees too much, knows too much. And yet, for one fleeting second, he’d seen something.

A crack in the armour.

And he hadn’t ridiculed it. Hadn’t pointed it out with some smug remark.

He had simply liked it.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

—

The injury isn’t bad.

It’s inconvenient, sure—annoying—but it’s nothing you can’t handle. A twisted ankle, a sharp jolt of pain when you put too much weight on it, but nothing that warrants the level of concern the team is throwing your way.

"You should ice that," Emily had said after the case wrapped, nodding toward your ankle as you leaned against the SUV.

“You should get it checked out,” Morgan added when you limped your way back into the precinct after your foiled foot chase.

“You should at least sit down,” JJ had pointed out, exasperated, when you waved off Morgan’s concern and started organising the paperwork.

And Spencer?

He hadn’t said anything.

He had looked—of course, he had. You could feel his eyes on you in the way that made your skin prickle, in the way that made you want to disappear under the scrutiny. But he never commented, never pushed.

It should’ve been a relief.

So why does it bother you?

—

You avoid going to the coffee shop down the street for obvious reasons. The last thing you need is for someone to make a fuss over you limping back to the office, and you refuse to ask anyone to go for you.

You tell yourself you don’t care. That the shitty break room coffee machine is fine. That it doesn’t bother you.

But when you come back from a meeting and sit at your desk, a familiar cup is waiting for you.

The logo. The exact order. The slight hint of caramel in the air.

You blink, staring at it like it might disappear.

You glance around the bullpen instinctively, but no one is paying you any mind. No one except Spencer, who doesn’t look away fast enough when your eyes find him.

The second you make eye contact, he drops his gaze back to his book, fingers twitching like he hadn’t meant to get caught.

You should ignore it. Pretend you didn’t notice. Pretend the warmth curling in your chest doesn’t exist.

Instead, your fingers tighten around the cup, a quiet acknowledgment only for yourself.

Then, you notice the note.

A small yellow sticky note, left beside your keyboard.

—Caffeine may slow the healing process, but I figured you’d rather risk it. Your ankle should improve in stages: swelling will peak in 48 hours, and mobility should return within a week. Try not to push it. :)

It’s simple. Factual. Exactly what you’d expect from him.

And yet, you feel something catch in your throat.

Not because of the words themselves, but because of what they mean.

Because despite the fact that you’ve been avoiding him for days, despite the fact that you shut down the last time he got too close, Spencer still noticed.

And he didn’t push. Didn’t demand a thank you. Didn’t hover or ask if you were okay.

He just… did this.

And you don’t realize how much it means until you’re alone.

—

You stare at the coffee.

It’s lukewarm now, condensation beading against the cup, but you haven’t taken a sip. You just keep staring, fingers curled around the cardboard sleeve, chest tight with something you don’t want to name.

It shouldn’t mean anything.

It’s just coffee. A stupid, simple gesture.

And yet.

The fact that you have it at all. The note. The way Spencer had looked away when you caught him watching—like he looking at you just because he wanted to.

You swallow hard.

This isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. Not really. You replay the moments in your head—the subtle ways he’s always noticed things about you before you even noticed them yourself.

The way he hands you a pen without you asking, just as yours runs out of ink.

The way he subtly shifts so you have an easier exit from a crowded room.

The way he remembers your order at every coffee shop, even when you don’t go to the same one twice.

The way he never pushes, never demands, never asks for more than you’re willing to give.

The way he just… sees you.

And that terrifies you.

Because you’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length, building walls high enough that no one could ever slip through. You don’t let people close. You can’t.

But Spencer?

He’s already there.

And somehow, you hadn’t even noticed until now.

Your pulse stutters, something sharp and unfamiliar twisting in your stomach.

Oh no.

—

The next day, you wake up with a sense of urgency you don’t understand.

You can’t stop thinking about him—about Spencer. About everything. About how he’s seen you. And how that thought makes you want to hide.

You have half the mind to bury yourself in the earth and never look at him again. To pack up and leave the BAU and disappear into the anonymity of a new job, new city, new life. Somewhere no one could care enough to notice if you smiled or if you were limping or if you were secretly falling apart inside.

But you don’t.

You don’t run. Not this time.

Instead, you get to work early, before the team trickles in, before Spencer arrives and fills the room with that quietly intense energy he always carries with him.

You don’t know why you’re doing this. But the thought of avoiding him again, of pretending like nothing matters, feels too heavy to bear.

—

You don’t say anything.

You just do it.

You make his coffee—exactly the way he likes it. Not too much sugar, swirled black, in that old worn out starfish mug he should’ve thrown out years ago.

You’re silent in the break room, the hum of the coffee machine filling the space between you and the mug you slide carefully onto the counter. It feels like the most normal thing in the world to do, and yet, your heart is pounding like you’re stepping into a completely foreign territory.

You can already hear the steady click of footsteps approaching, but you don’t look up. Not until the moment is right.

He’s here.

Spencer doesn’t say anything at first. His eyes flick to the coffee on the counter, then to you, and then back to the coffee as if trying to make sense of it. It’s the same as always, and yet it’s different.

He looks up at you, caught off guard, blinking a few times.

You turn away quickly, suddenly aware of the heat in your face, as if somehow your actions were a betrayal of everything you’d been trying to keep locked away.

It’s nothing, you tell yourself. Nothing at all.

But then, before you can retreat into the familiar coldness, he smiles.

It’s soft. Quiet. Like he’s known all along what this was.

There’s no teasing in his eyes, no attempt to make light of the situation. Just understanding. And something else—something gentler than you’ve ever seen from him before.

His smile is everything you didn’t realize you needed.

And for once, you don’t run.

You let the moment sit.

You let the warmth settle between you.

You breathe in deeply, not pushing him away, not hiding behind your walls. Just standing in the same space with him, finally acknowledging what’s been there for far too long.

It’s not much. But it’s enough.

[copper-16]

Reminds Me That There's A Room To Grow Part 2

A love unraveled and yet incomparable. Where are two people to go from here?

(a/n: Here is part 2! I am so glad everyone is enjoying this so far, I've had a lot of fun writing it and getting to be creative! I’ll see everyone next Monday for installment 3 - can’t wait to hear everyone’s thoughts!)

Alexia wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected when she barged into her Mami's house the morning after seeing you at the event, dragging Alba behind her.  

But it definitely wasn’t this. 

She had explained everything to the two of them, with a carefully constructed amount of excitement. The footballer didn’t want to seem overeager, but she also found elation building within herself the more she thought about what had occurred. 

She had never expected to see you again, but there you were. Not only that, you weren’t with anyone. You still had the capacity to love her. There was a chance that Alexia hadn’t lost you, and she held onto that hope like a fire lit deep within her chest. She was almost delirious with relief at the realization that maybe the last nine years hadn’t been a total waste, that maybe she had just been waiting for you to return. It threatened to consume her, and she felt as though nothing could break the jouissance that filled her. 

At least, that was what she thought, until Eli and Alba brought her back to reality with their contradicting opinions. 

“She’s here you guys, she’s here in Barcelona. After all these years, Flori is still here and she wants to see me,” Alexia told her family, a brightness in her eyes that hadn’t been present in years. Despite this, Eli and Alba both had a frown on their face as they glanced at each other with skepticism. There was an awkward pause before Alba finally turned toward her sister with a charged look. 

“Ale,” Alba started lightly, trying not to sound too negative. “It has been nine years. Is it possible that Flori has moved on? She was the one who stayed behind, after all.” 

Her younger sister's words were pointed if not entirely incorrect. 

“Do you even know what happened? You never got an answer from her, and now she has shown up at this event with absolutely no warning,” Eli continued, a point that Alba quickly found herself agreeing with. 

When they had all left Madrid, Eli and Alba never expected to lose you so suddenly. 

Where Alexia was upset, they were angry. Angry that you had hurt Alexia for no logical reason, angry that you had done it when Alexia was at her most vulnerable, angry that you were no longer there. They had trusted you with Alexia’s heart, and you had betrayed them. Forgiveness was not possible in their eyes, not after what had occurred. 

Eli missed your mother, who had grown to become a dear friend. Alba had lost your younger brothers, Adan and Leo, who she had been close with. The breakup had been a clean break in the literal sense, but emotionally it had been so much more complex than that. There was nothing but frustrating feelings and a wretched sense of loss for all of them. Where Alexia had softened over time, becoming more sympathetic, the rest of her family had hardened in their negative feelings toward you. 

It was valiant if not feeble that the footballer tried to argue on your behalf. 

“She is here now, and time has passed. Why would I not at least give her the chance to atone or explain herself?” Alexia argued as she furrowed her brows. She looked between her sister and Mami, feeling disheartened by their reaction. 

“She gave up that right years ago Ale, when she let you leave in the midst of Papi dying and you moving to go to your dream club. She let you go, she never reached out, she never explained herself. Does that not bother you?” Alba pressed, unyielding in her temperament. 

“It has been a decade practically, and she never tried. She let you go, ripped up your heart into pieces, and walked out of that door with no remorse. We were all hurt by it, but you should be the most betrayed! She was supposed to love you, and she left you instead. Don’t tell me that hasn’t been the thing that stuck out to you the most in the past nine years?” Alba continued as her words lashed out like a whip, threatening to send Alexia’s sense of stability and hope crashing to the ground. 

“I have a chance to be happy, and you want me to give it away! Does that not bother you?” Alexia spat back as her defensiveness mounted. She stared her sister down with an intensity that usually was only found when she was playing football, not speaking to a member of her family. 

“No, what you have is a chance to be hurt again, and based on past events, that is exactly what is going to happen Alexia. Don’t be stupid,” Alba shot back, and Eli quickly placed a hand on her younger daughter's arm to stop her. 

The room came to a hard stop, but the brunette’s heart beat too fast in her chest to notice. 

Had she made a mistake in trying to be forgiving toward you? 

What if her family had a point? 

“Alba is critical but what she says is in your best interest Alexia. Regardless of how you felt about your relationship, Flori hurt you irreparably. Are you sure you want to let her in again? Is that a risk you want to take?” Eli inquired gently, her voice much softer than the loud argument of her daughters. Alexia took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm outwardly even if she felt anything but on the inside. 

You had hurt her a lot. And they said it was irreparable, but the brunette was beginning to wonder if only you could be the one to soothe the ache. It had been nine years, and she had never once come close to feeling the same way about anyone else as you. 

But you had hurt her. 

Her mother and sister were not wrong in their basis of judgment. Alexia was beginning to wonder if she had been too naive, too focused on not looking a gift horse in the mouth to see the points her family had laid out. 

The Catalan wondered if you would explain yourself fully to her if asked. She hoped dearly that the answer would be yes, but maybe she didn’t know you as well as she thought she did. 

Maybe it was stupid to trust you after all these years. As much as Alexia had wanted to be mad about everything, she could never bring herself to fault you for what happened when you were both eighteen years old. She had always just assumed that the reason had to be big for you to make the choice you had. 

But maybe it wasn’t like that at all. Maybe she had just been too trusting, too loving.

“I…I’ve spent the last nine years thinking about her, loving her, whether I wanted to or not. I know you aren’t as trusting as I am, and maybe I shouldn’t be so hopeful. But I at least want to know what happened to us that led to her making the decision she did. I need that, at the very least,” Alexia decided as her mother and sister nodded wearily. 

Alexia had always taken the blame for what had happened, even if it had been a subconscious realization. She had simply assumed that whatever it was had been her fault. The brunette must have done something for you to make such a drastic choice not to be with her after so long together. 

Eli and Alba’s arguments rang in her head, creating a commotion in her mind of conflicting information. Perhaps it wasn’t her fault, but rather something on your end. 

She wasn’t sure now. 

All that the footballer knew was that by the time she left her Mami’s house, she felt a lot more lost than she had last night. Lost, confused, and drained of any excitement that had been present just an hour previously. 

—

You had woken up the morning after the event in a trance, unable to place your own feelings. 

Had last night really happened? 

Your dress was still on the hanger, just as you had placed it last night. The ghosting of mascara under your eyes left proof of your makeup, proof of the tears you had shed on the walk home. 

All of these years later, and there she was. Somehow just as perfect and illustrious as you had remembered her to be. Nine years on and she remained unchanged, unyielding despite her newfound fame. 

You had changed a lot in those nine years. And truth be told, you thought often of the footballer, though you tried impossibly hard not to. After all, it had been you who had left. It had been your own choice to sever everything the two of you had. 

You had your reasons, sure, but it had still been you. The choice for you to make decisions in your relationship with Alexia had been revoked in that instance, and you forced yourself to try and forget all that you had lost. 

To try and forget the feeling of being held in her arms. To forget the way she curled around you as you slept, or crawled into your lap to take a nap after a long day of training. To forget how much you two laughed together, how exceedingly happy she had made you. 

You had lost all of that, and there was nothing that changed that fact. 

It was ostensibly clear why you had moved to Barcelona five years ago, even if you vehemently denied that the move was because of the Catalan you once called home. But her dream had been yours as well, and even if you were later, you still had to come. 

You found yourself in the stands of her games often, tucked in the back with a hat pulled over your head, avoiding her gaze and that of her family as well. You probably shouldn’t have been there, but you had turned into quite the masochist in the wake of losing her. 

She looked free on the field, exactly as you remembered her. Focused, ardent, driven, mirthful, intelligent, protective. 

Everything you had loved and lost. 

It’s not that there hadn’t been opportunities to see her again, especially when you had first moved and you both were young. But you never took them, knowing that it wasn’t your right. Alexia was happy, and you would never interrupt her peace for your own yearning. 

After last night though…you weren’t sure if the word you would describe her as was peaceful. It was possible you were reading too much into things, but there was an air of longing present in the brunette that confused you more than you expected. 

You wondered if she would call you, but you had no way of knowing. 

It needed to be that way. This needed to be her choice, her decision. You had been the one to take it away, and you gave it back to her almost a decade later. 

There was hope in your body, a nascent festering that took root no matter how hard you attempted to stop it in its tracks. But at the end of the day, you would gladly give back to her the right to choose in favor of everything you dreamed and desired. 

You would make peace with whatever decision that was, no matter the cost to your own happiness. 

—

“You–I’m sorry, you what?” Jenni blurted out as she glimpsed over at Mariona, who found herself just as confused and taken aback by what the brunette had just described. 

Alexia leaned back in her chair as she let out a forced breath. Her participation in this lunch was more compulsory than anything else after an entire practice of her “acting weird,” according to the striker. 

Mariona had been dragged along for a second opinion, though the midfielder had found herself growing more and more curious as Jenni’s pestering turned into real answers from the brunette. The raven-haired woman, while annoying at times, had been friends with Alexia for long enough to know when she needed a bit of a push to talk. 

For Alexia to admit that the reason she was bothered was because she had a long lost childhood lover was not exactly what Jenni was expecting. But the striker was nothing if not able to work with what she was given. 

“Let me get this straight,” the older woman began as she leaned forward against the table. “You met when you guys were like five, grew up together, started dating when you were teenagers, then were supposed to move here together, but she broke things off suddenly right before you left and you haven’t seen her since?” 

“That is correct,” Alexia conceded warily, well aware of how slightly ridiculous it seemed as a story. 

“And all of these years, you haven’t stopped thinking about her? A decade later and you’re still hung up on her?” Jenni asked incredulously, her voice nearly an octave higher than it usually was. She seemed to be out of her mind at the thought, and the brunette slunk down further into her chair, feeling overly barren. 

“You hook up with women like there is a prize for who gets the highest body count,” Alexia shot back, trying to come off as more annoyed than exposed. 

Mariona looked miffed at the vulgarity of the statement while Jenni shrugged, acquiescence in her expression. 

“Low blow Alexia,” the midfielder noted briefly, but the striker waved her off easily. 

“The woman isn’t entirely wrong, but more importantly she’s deflecting. Okay, so you’re still in love with the woman. And it just so happens that she’s randomly at the Spotify event they sent you to, and she’s still in love with you as well?” 

“Well not quite but…” Alexia started to disagree before she trailed off, her friends eyeing her with unconvinced expressions. 

“Yes, fine, sure,” she amended crossly. 

“She just happened to be at the same event? What does she do for work?” Mariona raised her eyebrow, suspicious of a coincidence that large. Alexia paused for a moment as she struggled to think of an answer. All she was drawing was a big blank, and the realization that maybe she should have been more suspicious about this whole thing. 

“I…I have no idea. I didn’t ask! She was just right in front of me, and I panicked, I didn’t know what to do!” Alexia said restlessly, the amount of fidgeting in her seat a clear indication of her nervousness. 

“Wow…she made the great Alexia Putellas panic? I’ve seen you send away more girls than a persnickety Playboy photographer.” 

“Jennifer!”

“Sorry, sorry! Anywho, you panicked, and then what happened?” Jenni amended, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. The raven-haired woman was absolutely devouring this, fighting valiantly not to smile like the cheshire cat. 

“And then we went on a walk and talked for a few minutes, she gave me her number and told me to call her, and she left,” Alexia finished lamely, sinking back into her seat. She surveyed her two friends, who only looked at her with interested expressions. 

“Okay…and what are you going to do?” Mariona inquired once she realized that Alexia wasn’t going to say anything more. 

“I don’t know what to do! My family thinks that I shouldn’t call her, that she has hurt me too much. That maybe she doesn’t deserve to be in my life anymore. What do you guys think I should do?” Alexia. 

“Listen, it seems to be a weird coincidence to me personally. All of the sudden you start to get famous and she just happens to pop up? That is a little weird to me. It sounds like this person hurt you deeply Ale, and it has stuck with you. Are you sure you want to rehash everything?” Mariona pressed, her words strict and condemning.

“I’m not sure if I do. I’ve spent the last decade thinking of her, and then suddenly she was there and I just…I didn’t know what to do with myself. I never imagined her being in my life again, and there she was! I spent my whole childhood loving her. I never saw myself with anyone else,” Alexia admitted quietly as she wrung her hands together for a moment before setting them down in her lap, unable to make her own mind up. 

The vast majority of Alexia’s teammates had never heard of you at all. Jenni was a little too old, Mariona a little too young. Those who had known of you had forgotten, easily deterred by Alexia telling them you had broken up, unrealizing of how much it meant for the midfielder to lose you. 

Mariona had begun to speak again, but the striker had tuned the two of them out, thinking quietly to herself for once. 

As much as she teased, Jenni watched her friend with a keen, knowing eye. There had to be a damn good reason for Alexia to turn away all of those girls. It wasn’t just their looks, some of them were lovely and intelligent and hilarious, and still the star midfielder had absolutely no interest in them whatsoever. 

Almost as if she was waiting for something else. 

Someone else. 

All these years there had been something missing in her, as though she looked for someone who never came through the door. Jenni had never known what was wrong enough to ask, but now she was beginning to piece together the importance of you to Alexia. Where everyone else saw reasons to criticize and judge, the striker was stuck on Alexia’s words. 

How the desire and longing seemed unable to be contained and reasoned with, despite all of the evidence to the contrary. 

“What do you want?” Jenni cut both of them off suddenly, eliciting a frustrated noise from Mariona and a surprised look from the brunette. 

“I don’t know what I want!” Alexia huffed out with frustration, but the raven-haired didn’t accept that quite so easily. There were too many hands in the pot here. Alexia had always known what she wanted to do, she was simply being deterred. 

“No, you do. You’re convoluted with everyone else’s opinions, but I think you know exactly what you want. What is it that you want Alexia?” Jenni’s eyes never wavered from Alexias, as if daring her to look away. 

She knew that the Catalan wouldn’t, and she was right. 

Alexia stared right at her friend, knowing exactly what choice she needed to make for herself. Not for anyone else, but for herself. 

At the very least, she needed to know what had happened to lose you the first time.

—

Alexia told herself she would call you in a few days, giving herself some time to cool off and think things through. 

She couldn’t even make it through a few hours before she was digging up the card you had given her and typing the number into her phone. The phone rang once, twice, three times before you picked up, and despite herself the Catalan let out a sigh of relief that you had picked up at all. 

“Hello?” You said dutifully as you held your ear to the phone, unaware of who was on the end of the line. There was silence for a long moment, long enough that you questioned if anyone was even there, before sound finally came through.

“Hi,” Alexia choked out, failing to keep her voice as calm and unbothered as she had told herself she would be. 

“Hi Alexia,” you replied, fighting to seem as unphased as possible. You were shocked she had called you, and your heart beat so rapidly in your chest it felt as though it was fluttering. 

“I know it’s sudden…but can you talk tonight?” The footballer blurted out after a few seconds. Your heart constricted with panic, but you swallowed it down and forced yourself to remain agreeable and steady. 

“Absolutely. What time and where should I meet you?” You questioned as you took a deep, bracing breath. You listened as Alexia rattled off an address and the two of you agreed to meet in an hour before she hung up. 

This might be your last chance to tell her the truth. Would it be worth it though? Was the possibility of creating an ache in her chest worth revealing what had really occurred? 

You knew her, and you knew that her guilt would be immense even if the situation was completely out of her control. You made the choice for her, knowing that it was the right one. But you were unsure if she would see it that way. Perhaps she would only see the hurt you had caused her unnecessarily, and that would be the end of it. Maybe that should just be the end of it, allowing her some answers while allowing her to move forward with her life. 

It had been nearly a decade. You had been without her nearly as long as you had been with her, and a piece of you knew that the ache would never disappear. You would always yearn for her, even if she decided to move on. 

But that was a right she had earned, and you had lost. 

It had been your own fault after all, that turned you two into this unsure, bumbling mess of emotions and challenges and strife. You would have done anything to change that if you could have. 

It was your fault but not your doing, at the end of the day. 

You arrived at the beach where Alexia told you to meet her a little early, which allowed you to sit down at a bench and look out at the ocean waves that poured in and out. You granted yourself that small moment of grace on the nearly empty beach as you slipped your sandals off and felt the lingering warmth of the sand under your feet as the sun slid behind the ocean. 

You didn’t notice Alexia’s approach until she was in front of you, and though you offered her the seat next to you silently, she didn’t take it. 

It should have been this that informed you that it would go downhill from there, but you clung to the hope that maybe this would be a productive conversation. You still didn’t know what to say exactly, but you knew you were not going to be dishonest. 

Alexia’s eyes examined you critically, as if she didn’t believe that it was really you. 

“How did you end up at the event the other day in the first place?” She inquired after a moment, and you can’t help but furrow your brows in confusion, lost as to why this was the first question she asked. Lost as to where all of this hostility came from, when you had yet to say a single thing. 

You had expected her to become angered as the conversation went on, but she already seemed cross and you had yet to say a word. 

“I work for Morgan Stanley doing investment consulting and management specifically with Spotify. I’ve become close with the people at the company as I work with them most days, and they invited me to the event. There were investors and important stakeholders that I was able to meet in person. I’ve come to the same event every year for the last three years,” you disclosed to the brunette, but the skepticism and hostility in her eyes never wavered despite your clarity. 

“Did you see me before we ran into each other?” She interrogated, and you settled into your seat uneasily. This felt less like a conversation and more like she was drilling you, waiting for you to slip up and say the wrong thing. 

“At the event, or in general?” You replied, wanting nothing but honesty in your responses. You could give her that, even if the air between you two was charged with more tension than you expected. 

“Both.” Alexia crossed her arms, everything in her posture defensive and frustrated. 

“At the event, no. I didn’t know until I was standing right in front of you,” you clarified, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to avoid fidgeting nervously. “In general, yes I had seen you. Only from afar though, at your games over the years. I never would have approached you.” 

I never would have approached you. 

Alexia felt every defense in her mind light up at that statement. When had you decided you were so utterly done with having her in your life? All the Catalan could think of was her mother and sister warning her that this was going to be a mistake. All she could think of was Mariona who talked about how strange the coincidence was that the two of you had run into her, as though it was so suspicious. 

You had left and hurt her. 

It had been your fault, that is what all the evidence seemed to tell her. 

Something pulled at the brunette’s mind though, something that begged her not to be so bellicose. Something that screamed at her that there was more to the story, and that handling everything this way was a horrible idea. 

Fear seemed to rule her though, rearing an ugly head that the midfielder was not proud of. 

“How many years,” she beseeched, fighting the wave of tears she could feel stinging at the back of her eyes. Her voice was low, wavering in a way that betrayed her emotions more than she cared to admit. You had let out a low sigh as you hung your head. 

“Five years. I’ve been in Barcelona for five years, and I’ve been coming to your games on and off for five years” you finally confessed as you shook your head. You looked up at the Catalan, who seemed caught between devastation and outrage. 

“You moved here five years ago and didn’t even think to come and talk to me? You never thought to check on me, to try and reach out?” Alexia seethed, burying her hurt behind a mask of fury. More than anything, the footballer felt like her whole chest had caved in. 

“No I didn’t. I had broken up with you Alexia, that was the choice I made. I wasn’t going to come barging back in four years later and demand that you take me back,” You tried gallantly to remain calm, even in the face of Alexia’s vexation. The brunette hated your answer, throwing her hands up in acute frustration. 

“You never even bothered to ask! You might have taken away my choice once, but you’ve spent five more years taking that choice away. You are a coward,” Alexia accused, pointing a finger at you even as everything in her screamed not to. She would regret what she said in the light of day, but all she felt right now was wounded. There was an intense urge to protect what little pride still remained inside her, and apparently in order to accomplish that she needed to lash out. 

You met her toe for toe though, not giving her the anger she wanted exactly but rather a sense of indignation. 

“I am a coward Alexia, you’re right. I wanted you to live your life, to move on, and I made the choice I thought was best for everyone at the time, including you. Don’t stand here and act like I made the choice without consideration for your feelings, because I have,” you fought, because even if you were at fault, you had tried so hard not to be selfish. If the Catalan got a single thing out of this conversation, you wanted it to be that. 

“No you haven’t, you’ve been selfish for the last decade! I lost my father, my community, and then you all in the span of one month. You disappeared, just like that. You were like a ghost, and I was on my own, and right when I needed you, you weren’t there!” She practically yelled, and it looked almost like her entire body vibrated with resentment. 

The footballer took a deep breath as she both tried and failed to remain calm. But every time she had more than a second to think, anger and vitriol seemed to flow out of her. 

“I hate myself for how much I needed you all these years, how much I longed for you. I can’t believe I didn’t see what was going on right in front of me. And now you’re back here…for what? A celebrity status? To be a WAG? I don’t have time for that, and I don’t want you anymore if you see me as such a transactional person. I don’t even recognize you anymore,” Alexia explained with an air of indignance. 

Though you had tried to remain calm, something finally snapped inside of you at that. You simply couldn’t allow for the brunette to say such things about you, and finally you allowed yourself the candor you’d held in all these years. 

“Oh for God's sake Alexia, really? I haven’t come here to be your WAG, or for your fucking money! I’m in investment banking for Christ's sake, I am fine financially! I don’t like football, but I spent my childhood going to games because you loved it and I loved you! You think it didn’t kill me to let you leave like that?” 

“You were my forever. We were young but you were the love of my life, and even now I can’t find myself ever connecting with anyone the way I did with you. I know I am older now, but I still have the same heart as I did when I was eighteen. You loved that person, and I’m not saying you need to love me anymore, but do not stand here and act like I have changed into someone unrecognizable when I have not!” You articulated, unwilling to allow yourself to be trodden over with disrespect. 

You were not the same person as you were at eighteen, but you were also not the person Alexia had made you out to be. 

The fight seemed to drain out of your body in an instance. Any hope that had been clung to was lost entirely as you decided just to be honest. You knew the brunette didn’t want anything to do with you, and in that moment you made peace with that. 

You would give her the truth, and nothing else but the truth. When you looked up at the Catalan, there were tears shining in your eyes. 

“I was sick, Alexia. I found out two days before I broke up with you that I had breast cancer, and I needed to stay in Madrid for treatment. You had just lost your father, you were moving to a whole new area of the country. You didn’t need to be worried about your sick girlfriend, trying to travel back and forth to Madrid, to have even more on your plate,” you revealed slowly as you aggressively wiped away the tears that flowed down your cheeks. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

“So yes, I made a decision for you. In all honesty, it was a decision I would happily make again and again if it came down to it. I wanted to preserve what little peace and happiness you had left before the move. I ached for you afterward, but I knew that this was the right choice. I wanted you to live your dreams, with or without me. And by the time I finished treatment and came to Barcelona, I felt that it was too late. I had broken us, it was my fault entirely that we had broken up, and I didn’t feel like I had the right to come to you and explain.”

“So no, I haven't approached you for the last five years. I come to your games and I see you play with joy and happiness, and I see you with your family, and I want to leave you with that. So don’t look at me and call me a coward or a gold digger or whatever the hell you think I am, because at the end of the day I tried to make the best choices for you and me, and I can’t take them back anymore,” you released, and suddenly you felt much older than your twenty-seven years. You head hung, and you shrugged before you spoke again, your tone bitter and defeated. 

“If you’re so intent to see all of the reasons I fucked up, fine. If you need to tell yourself that I am a selfish whore to sleep at night, fine. But I sincerely hope that when you go to sleep at night you at least remember for a second that the decisions I made were for you, not because of you. Maybe it was the wrong choice to control that for you, but I can’t go back and change it now. So please, just leave me alone if this is all you want from me. I don’t have anything more to give you, not anymore,” You stated with exhaustion, spinning around to walk away. You disappeared into the night before the brunette even had a chance to say anything, left far too shell shocked to even begin to process your words. 

You were gone without a glance backward, and Alexia sunk down onto the bench you had once occupied as remorse purged every other feeling in her body.

[shappoxs]

You guys just can't acknowledge the actual reasons people dislike TimBer and exaggerate or cherry-pick specific obviously stupid arguments.

I'll start by saying, ship what you want. There's nothing inherently immoral about TimBer. I make jokes, but I'm definitely not "Anti-Timber," but it gets to a point where you guys are just going-

Most TimBer "haters" are not these caricatures you guys like to paint us as. There are genuine reasons to dislike the ship.

1. It's genuinely bad for both characters. Queer men are allowed to have flaws, too! Yet they've stripped both Tim and Bernard of all of them and brushed any past mistakes under the rug.

Tim and Bernard were not good friends before 2020, and instead of giving them an interesting character arc, the writers just retconned all that and are trying to convince us they were besties.

2. Having Tim and Stephsplit up off-panel is already a disservice to a decades old relationship and Steph as a character. Especially because almost immediately her next appearance is as an accessory to TimBer, to tell the audience, "Actually, you should like them because she would want you to." When that's bullshit!

I'm not saying she should be jealous, but she has every right to be upset at Tim. The fact they did the exact same thing to Ariana, another one of Tim's exes who he hurt, turning her into a one-dimensional TimBer fangirl, feels very misogynistic.

They don't have to be jealous, but don't minimise them, and allow them to have reasonable reactions.

3. The way TimBer was handled feels more biphobic than the average fan reaction. This may be a personal interpretation, but so many moments feels like they're trying to belittle Tim's past relationships with women because he's with a man now. Which pisses me off. TimBer's chemistry comes from us being told about it, but I'm supposed to believe it was more meaningful than what he had with Steph?

I want to see my bisexual characters BE bisexual in ways that aren't stereotypical, but there are ways they could've done that without throwing Steph into a trash bin. As a TimKon shipper, I would be just as pissed if this same scenario played out with Kon instead of Bernard.

Honestly, I don't even want TimKon OR TimSteph if that's how the writers treat these characters. Let them bastardise Tim and Bernard just leave Kon and Steph out of this 😭

4. Most of the "he should cheat" takes are jokes or coming from people who haven't actually read the comics/comic where he actually cheats. Tim only cheated once iirc, but there is still valid criticism to be made about how flawless he's written now that he's with a man.

TimSteph's greatest strength is that we get to see them be a real teenage couple, they both make mistakes but it's watching them grow from them that matters most.

5. I'm fine with platonic TimSteph, but they clearly don't actually value their friendship. I'm also bisexual and grew up a Tim Drake fan, I am the last person who'd want his bisexuality to be erased, but I'd rather them actually do it justice than shrug my shoulders and slurp up any slop they feed us because it's gay.

Finally, I'm sorry if any of this came off as mean. I always try to be respectful even when I'm making jokes or disagreeing with someone, but I'm not perfect. Know that this is a critique of the ship and certain writing choices, not people who just innocently like TimBer.

The mental gymnastics people do to hate timber should be studied under a microscope.

The fuck you mean he is bad bisexual rep because he is dating a man… and how does that makes him gay???? Have you ever talked to a bisexual person???

“Oh it makes less of his past relationships” how?? How?!? Is he not allowed to be infatuated with his current partner? Should he continue pining after his past relationships even tho he is dating someone else???

[lesbianherald]

Based Jayce take tbh….also I’m gonna confess this on anon but one of my most pretentious takes when it comes to fandom is that everything would be way easier to enjoy if ppl understood story structure a little more. Like Jayce’s arc is a negative arc. He sucked on purpose! If you had bad feelings about him that was intentional and okay (I do think Jayce hate was overblown but I also get why it existed. Like the audience was just picking up on the feelings the show was putting down). But he was definitely Like That for a reason! Usually in good writing, characters are tools for the narrative first you know…you don’t need to justify his actions to like Jayce because he’s fictional and he’s not a real person youre stanning. But also fandom is for fun so I know this take is pretentious but also it’s my truth. My story structure….my characters who are intentionally challenging my theme….my character arc….

NO NO BUT YOU ARE COOKING ON EVERY LEVEL !!!!

(Note: This randomly turned into a very hasty analysis of the shots used in the bridge scene? Because I got on a tangent about how we interpret visual storytelling as well and oops!)

Story structure is so overlooked. The role characters are supposed to play in an overarching narrative is overlooked. So much gets ignored in the way information is presented both in the story structure and visually that sometimes it frightens me and it makes me really bummed! And it's nobody's fault! Most of us live in a society that devalues art and literacy on purpose!

I don't think it's pretentious to wish people better understood the building blocks of the story or at least understood how to take in general arcs. And I think if they did as a whole most fandom spaces would be a lot more interesting and have a lot less bizarre takes/infighting.

I also think that - where arcane's writing can get weird and murky - the visual language will cover it. (Almost to an extreme.)

It makes me think of one of my favorite scenes in the whole show and how misinterpreted it gets and how quick people are to defend jayce here despite how much it is playing on the themes of the show and how clearly he is painted as in the wrong both by the writing and the shots ok fuck -

I think all the time about the imbalance of power represented by that insane low angle on Jayce. You know what fuck it. I'm going to go get it. Fuck. This is about to become a whole thing. Okay.

If I brought an angle like this into a classroom setting, I would be laughed at for it being too obvious. But its one of my favorites because its so visceral. In fact, I've shown this to a lot of friends - the reaction to this shot is usually an audible "Woah!" or even nervous laughter! Because clearly! He's supposed to be intimidating here. This is supposed to be like. Oh. He is not who he used to be. Oh. Oh no. Its so co clearly a representation of power and corruption you may as well stamp it on his forehead.

He's not only Jayce here, he's a representation of piltover as a whole - in its physical and political positions over Zaun. In a position of power over someone he's close with, who just verbally told someone he would "understand." Now we are seeing that he very likely wont. (He will! But right now, we are supposed to be with Viktor in this scene. We are supposed to become convinced he won't right with him!)

Note that the angle we get for Viktor is way less extreme. Way more eye level. And less centered. I could go on about this too. But oooh boy. Like! Clearly we are supposed to be more with him in terms of who we find rational. Clearly he's the voice of reason here. We are level with him. He is at a safe distance. We are seeing how he is looking up at jayce without looking down at him.

In this shot, he is someone we as an audience are level with, who is gathering information, making a decision. He is remaining more measured than I think the audience is supposed to be given the angle we're getting on jayce.

The only time we do get the "reverse" of that Jayce shot on Viktor is when he is quite literally standing out of the frame almost immediately. Whose furious with the position Jayce is putting him in. This is Right after Jayce says, "They're dangerous." He's gathered the information he needs. He sees Jayce for what he is. Somebody he cannot trust. And he refuses to be put in this lower position.

Jayce is not supposed to be the one we are rooting for here. He is the person we are supposed to be disappointed in. We are supposed to question him here. This isn't only dramatically spelled out in the narrative but also in the shot choicesss!

And then we have the apology -

That's why i always question why people are like. Okay but he apologized. When the apology is framed like this! We don't even get to see viktor's face because the damage is done!! JAYCE ISNT EVEN LOOKING AT HIM !!!! It doesn't matter. We don't even get full access to Jayce here! What's at the center of this shot is the barricade that Jayce has ordered!!! This makes the apology, and "I've had a lot on my plate" purposefully look ridiculous in the context of the Narrative here! It's not enough!

Viktor is DYING. And jayce is standing here all prim and proper, with the Talis symbol very visible in that fuckass suit, saying he's had a lot on his plate. We're very clearly not supposed to look at this and go awww! baby boy <3. If this apology was a meaningful moment for either of them that changed either of their minds - it would not be framed like thisssss. These words are empty in the context of it all. Jayce may be genuinely sorry, but he's accidentally revealed way too much about how he views Viktor's people. Even if he didn't mean to. Even if he didn't realize how deeply his biases ran.

And then we have Viktor lying. Viktor knowing he has to go about this alone. And this is the shot. This is the moment of fracture. Viktor looking back at him in disgust with Jayce's barricade in the background. HES ALONE!! JAYCE HAS FAILED HIM !!! This is so critical in understanding Viktor's entire everything moving forward, and it's so so critical for Jayce as well.

People talk a lot about that moment where jayce has his hand on Viktor's lower back because yaoi but that screencap is so hard to get because that moment is almost immediately interrupted by a protestor from zaun throwing a Molotov cocktail in their direction! And the touch, that reluctant familiarity, despite the conflict, gets broken.

Something that I think gets overlooked is Jayce's face after the (Molotov?) gets thrown by a protestor. ITS ANOTHER LOW ANGLE LIKE!!! Once again. Highlighting the power he has here.

We see Jayce in season 1 act 1 really highlighted with a lot of high angles. A lot of doe-eyed wonder. He looks young. Sweet. This is not the same jayce and it is very very clear in the way he is shot. This is the point !!!!!.

There are a lot of scenes i see misinterpreted but this is the big one. And its one of my favorite scenes. Because he's so wrong here! And he doesn't really fully grasp how much so yet.

I love jayce. I love my complex man. Because here's the thing. He needed this low to reach the character highs he does later. Jayce being as loving and determined to make things right as he is in season 2 wouldn't be nearly as compelling or tragic or exciting were he not like this in season 1. It's brutal to watch him get punished by the narrative! But it's also narratively satisfying!

Anyways anon i agree wholeheartedly sorry i made it into a whole thing.

[megapteraurelia]

kuroo tetsurou and you did not have lots of interactions, usually.

so you were more than surprised when he turned to you during chemistry class and looked at you through the tuft of black hair falling into his eyes and let out a string of words that seemingly made no sense to you. his gaze cast away, a certain air of embarrassment hanging in the air when you didn’t answer, and he turned away, mumbling to himself.

“wait, did you just compare me to acid?”

“no, not acid— more like…the reaction is just so explosive, like us—  i mean, just us as in people, or like—” he breathed out carefully, and then shook his head at himself, laughter stealing itself to his voice as he rubbed his jaw, “never mind. i already fucked it up.”

now, you were not the brightest person in this world, but you could smell a butchered pick up line from a mile away. and the way kuroo tetsurou rested his chin on the inside of his hand, fingers covering his temple, effectively shielding his face from you, with the faintest of pink covering his ears, told you just how secretly embarrassed he was.

kuroo was cute, you thought. 

it didn’t take a miracle for you to come to the conclusion, especially not when you were used to hearing his loud voice boom through the class during the breaks. he was the one trying to keep some class-visiting friends in line, naturally assuming the leading role to hush them down, blissfully unaware at the same amount of loud energy he was returning.  he also didn’t escape you when he tried coaxing his blonde friend to eat more, offering to share his food only to try to bait him into taking it instead, when he got rejected.

you didn’t interact often, but kuroo tetsurou’s presence was hard to miss and the tiny flutter of your heart in response to noticing him hard to ignore.

“so,” you leaned a little over to him, and subconsciously, he had already started to accommodate you, lowering his head to catch your voice, “if you had to guess and we were, say, a chemical compound, would we be stable or unstable?”

his eyes lit up, a sly little look overtaking the embarrassment despite the little blush on his cheeks, and you could see his mouth curving up into a little grin, entirely too comfortable to walk the line between smooth-talking and sounding like the biggest nerd you had the fortunate luck of sharing seats with, “good question. we’d probably be unstable.”

oh.

you already felt your blood rushing to cover your skin in an embarrassed hue of red because you thought you were slick with that one. unstable? humiliating— but then he continued talking.

“but in a good way, you know? like, when two elements are drawn together, even if it’s turbulent. a little bit of controlled chaos makes things exciting, right?”

he looked at you with what was supposed to be a lazy smirk, though it wobbled with slight nervosity. one finger of his tried to brush away his fringe of hair, but the black strands fell back onto his face almost effortlessly. he really was cute, and for a split second you wondered the type of kisser he would be.

“so, like sodium and water?”

“okay, hold,” he held up a hand, trying to keep his expression in check (and failing to do so), “maybe not that exciting. that’s a little too dangerous, though it’s nice to know you like me that much.”

you nudged his shoulder away from you at the cheesiness, body straightening up again and an eye roll escaped you though you were anything but annoyed. if anything, you were a little charmed by the cowlicked hair, his eyes trained on you and the slight smile that didn’t know whether it should make fun of you or flirt with you. 

maybe he could do both.

you then decided to just try your luck because there was no way he tried to actually flirt with you using chemistry if he wasn’t at least the least bit interested, right? 

“yeah, yeah. maybe you should teach me some of that.”

he stared for a little while, silent and stumped (because it worked? holy—), though when he turned back to look back to the front of the class, you noticed the small, secret movement of him fist pumping the air and the stifled smile threatening to overtake his features.

(after class, you definitely didn’t overhear kuroo tetsurou whisper-yelling that you didn’t deny liking him, only for him to act all cool about it in the same minute. 

as if it was only natural for it to happen, he kept flexing his arms and striking ridiculous poses at the prospect that you supposedly were only one hair width away from being wooed by him. 

his blonde-haired friend did not seem impressed. at all.)

[ivoyzzz]

for cheol

synopsis: you work at the childrens home where Cheol lives and he takes a liking to you going as far as introducing you to his sister. what happens when the stoic girl begins to see why her little brother likes you so much?

warnings: mention of kids picking on Cheol.

a/n: thought this was so cute bc they deserve happiness !! also … are for your name!!

saebyeok liked routine. she would pick-pocket all day and then she would go see cheol. she didn’t let people into her life, she was okay with the way things were. just her and cheol.

it was like everyday. saebyeok pick-pocketed then walked to the children’s home cheol lived. she checked in then sat away from all the other kids waiting for cheol. she had expected cheol to walk out happy to see her but not as happy as a child his age should be. what she hadn’t expect was for cheol to walk out dragging a girl out.

saebyeok immediately tensed up when she saw cheol walk out with some girl who worked at the children’s home. cheol had a smile on his face as he held onto your wrist and walked over to saebyeok. “noona, remeber i told you about her.” cheol said smiling happy to introduce you to his sister.

when you agreed that you would meet cheol’s infamous sister you weren’t really expecting her. the way cheol described her and insisted that you become friends with her, you weren’t expecting a tall girl who glared at you not even giving you a half smile.

“noona, this is miss … , she teaches us games and how to draw.” cheol said smiling. saebyeok looked over you, her gaze making you feel like your tiniest movements were being judged by the stoic girl. you smiled softly at saebyeok at saebyeok and she gave you nothing but a small hum.

“i’ll let you talk with your sister. nice to meet you.” you say giving them both a small wave and walking back inside the children’s home. saebyeok’s gaze follows you back inside, then she looks back at cheol sensing this wasn’t the reaction he wanted. saebyeok ignores this focusing on the bandage on his chin. saebyeok mutters a small. “what happened?”

“i fell.” cheol answers a little too quickly. saebyeok looks at him tilting her head towards him wanting the truth. “i got pushed.” cheol sighs, but quickly adds. “the boy got in trouble by miss … , and she put the bandage on “ saebyeok eyebrows furrow, was cheol really so fond of you? the rest of the visit when on like normal cheol chatting her ear off and saebyeok asking questions.

the next visit, saebyeok checks in like normal and goes to the outside area where all the kids are. but instead of them playing like normal, your teaching them how to draw an animal. all are giggling and laughing as you make jokes about the duck your drawing. saebyeok takes notice of the way you easily make a child stop crying and put a smile on their face. she also takes notice of the way you spot her sitting and you walk over to cheol pointing to her with a smile of your face and he runs over to her. you send saebyeok a small wave which all you get in return is her barley there smile when she sees cheol.

saebyeok stops by everyday finding herself looking forward to her visits in more then one way. they go like normal you pointing towards her and cheol running towards her. you, like always wave and smile and she has started to give you a small and slight nod. maybe your making progress with her?

one night saebyeok goes to visit cheol before visiting hours are over. she walks into the office and instead of seeing the receptionist like normal she sees you sweeping the floor and cleaning a focused smile on your face. saebyeok stands there not knowing what to do, she hasn’t spoken a word to you ever. saebyeok settles on clearing her throat making you turn around smiling as you see her. “i’ll get cheol.”

when you come back with cheol, you give them their space sitting behind the desk and organizing one of the desk drawers. you can’t help but smile as you see saebyeoks face soften at the sight of her younger brother.

“hi noona.” cheol greets sitting next to saebyeok. saebyeok reaches over and ruffles his hair. “i drew you something.” cheol says softly pulling something out of his jacket pocket handing it to saebyeok. saebyeok takes it a rare smile on her face. she opens it and it’s a picture of her and cheol. “it’s really good.” saebyeok says softly to the boy. “thanks miss … helped me” cheol says proudly feeling a sense of pride after his sisters compliment. saebyeok looks over at you, where your seated at the desk. she can’t help but think feel a weary sense of confusion and content. she was confused as to what kind of person you were to kept cheol, a shy kid to open up to you. she was content that when she couldn’t there was someone who would look out for cheol.

after about 20 minutes you had walked cheol back into the building. when you walked back into the office you were surprised to see saebyeok still seated there. from what you had picked up about saebyeok she really wasn’t much of a talker so you kept the comfortable silence. “i wanted to thank you.” saebyeok muttered her sharp features moving to look at you.

”for what?” you said softly looking at saebyeok. even though saebyeok felt vulnerable in this moment your tone didn’t hold an ounce of a judgment. “for taking care of cheol.” she replied back her gaze on the wall.

“he’s a good kid, talks about you a lot. i’m happy to do it.” you say really looking at saebyeok. the way she made sure her face didn’t show what she was feeling. or maybe the way her eyes would flick over to you before returning them to the wall. “goodnight.” you smile softly as she stands up ready to leave. “night.” she says so very quietly and leaves with that.

your helping cheol tie his shoes. “..then you put this bunny over the other okay?” you say trying to put it in a way that would make sense. “that’s what my sister tried to tell me but i still don’t understand.” the little boy whines clearly getting upset that he doesn’t get it. “you can’t achieve something in one day if you want to be good at it. things take time and this is one of those things okay?” you say sitting down next to cheol. he sulks but nods and goes off to play again.

you then see saebyeok and instead of like normal calling cheol over to her you walk over instead. saebyeok looks at you as she sees you approach. her gaze is stoic but not uninviting. you take a cautious seat next to her leaving a good bit of distance between the two of you.

before you can say anything she begins. “Why are you always working?” saebyeok says looking at you with a genuine look of curiosity. there hasn’t been a time that’s she came and you haven’t been here. don’t you have off days? “I like working. i come in as often as i can.” you say with a small laugh.

“your good with kids.” saebyeok mutters her gaze on cheol happy to see him with kids his age playing and laughing. “my trick is to think like a kid.” you say raising your eyebrows with a smile. saebyeok glances at you before looking back at cheol. “cheol told me he introduced us so i could have a friend my own age.” you laugh shaking your head. cheol wasn’t clueless. you were a girl who never left her job and spent her whole day with kids, so of course your socializing skills weren’t the best. saebyeok was focused and didn’t like talking to people or people in general.

the corner of saebyeok’s lips turned upward for a second. cheol had always been a very observant kid. “what time do you get off of work tonight?” saebyeok asked causally her face not showing what was she was thinking. “i get off at 7 tonight.” you say not thinking much of it as cheol spots the both of you and walks over after finishing his game. “i’ll take you out to eat after you get off work tonight.” saebyeok said looking at you her face as stoic as ever. “okay.” you mumbled standing up not trusting yourself to say anything else. cheol ran over smiling, happy to see the both of you together.

saebyeok had convinced herself that she was doing this for cheol. cheol wanted you two to be friends and you had been good to cheol. this was nothing but a thank you and so cheol didn’t worry for her.

saebyeok waited outside the children’s home for you. you walked out spotting the girl waving and walking over to her. “where we going?” you asked smiling. “wherever you want.” she mumbled back. “there are some night markets with good food?” you shrugged to which she nodded falling in step with you.

“what do you do for work?” you asked looking up at her curiously. saebyeok of course wasn’t going to tell you that she stole for a living so she went with something simple. “i work at a cafe.” saebyeok muttered to which you nodded.

when you two arrived at the market you two had decided on a place that sells kimpap. you two took a seat at a small table. “i don’t really go out often so thank you.” you let out a small laugh. saebyeok likes the way you laugh, she’s never noticed the way a person laughed before. “me either.” she nods in agreement. “do you like art?” saebyeok mutters at you chewing her food. you look up at her with a smile. “when i was younger i wanted to be an artist.”

“do you still want to?” she follows up looking at you. “no, i like what i do. what about you, what is something you’d like to do?” saebyeok thought for a second. no one had ever really asked her questions about herself where she had to think about it. she settles for, “not really.”

an old woman walking by had dropped, her whole wallet. you saw this and picked it up standing up and handing it back to the woman with a smile. the old lady thanked you. “thank you, young ma’am. i don’t know what I would’ve done if i lost this“ the woman opens her wallet trying to hand you twenty thousand won. you shake your head not accepting the money. “it’s no problem keep your money have a good day.” you smile sitting back down.

saebyeok had watched this whole interaction in shock. if it had been her she would have pocketed the wallet. but you picked it up that thought not even crossing your mind and handed it back. then when the lady had tried to give you money you declined. you did everything saebyeok wouldn’t and it only made her more curious about you.

saebyeok lost in her thoughts picks around her food. you understood that saebyeok preferred not to talk and you were fine with silence. “that was nice.” saebyeok broke the quiet bubble around the two of you. you give her a soft smile shaking your head eating your food. “don’t give me too much credit.” saebyeok just stares at you, your not like anyone she’s ever met.

after you two finish eating and are walking back to both of your apartments. saebyeok realized you didn’t live far from her and decided to walk you home. you two walked close, arms brushing close. “i had a good time.” you say quietly. saebyeok mutters a small “me too.”

saebyeok’s previous mindset that this had only been for cheol had slowly begun to vanish. saebyeok felt the way your hands brushed every so often. the way that both of you seemed to gravitate closer to each other. it numbed her to everything else going on. saebyeok haven’t even realized it but she was slowly slipping her cold hand into yours. it felt like it was only the two of you right now, just walking down the street hand in hand. saebyeok didn’t look at you, but her hand was enough to confirm that maybe this wasn’t as friendly as cheol had intended. that maybe cheol played matchmaker. cheol had helped two girls who were each deserving of love find each other. and right now in this moment it was enough.

[asnowperson]

Takemiya Keiko interview about Kazeki OVA (1987)

Here's another short interview from platypus's stack of old magazines with cool interviews: Takemiya Keiko talks about Kaze to Ki no Uta Sanctus: Sei Naru Kana in the 1987 December issue of Puff.

Translation is under the cut, and please let me know if you spot my mistakes.

Kaze to Ki no Uta – OVA is finally on sale!

Takemiya Keiko Interview

“It will not ruin your image of the work, so please watch it!”

Let us first hear your thoughts on finishing this project.

Mr. Yoshikazu was sitting at the director’s chair. That alone assured me that everything would go smoothly, and I left everything to him. He read the manga thoroughly and gave the work his own interpretation. I had nothing to worry about. I didn’t have to ask him not to do a certain part in a certain way, or to avoid including too many “risqué” scenes. I can feel that he gave the work the treatment it deserves. Even the animation style was not too flashy and anime-like. The movements were more orthodox. Everything worked out perfectly, so I have nothing to say.

The background art was amazing. Did you ask them to draw them that way?

Both Mr. Yoshikazu and I thought that she’d be a  good fit, and suggested having the same person who was the art director for “Natsu e no Tobira”, but we couldn’t get a hold of her. We found out the reason later: The producer thought she was too slow, and we should give up on working with her (laughs). But when we said that she was the only person who could draw the backgrounds, she was hired to work in the project. However, she was too late to turn in the drafts. We really were in a tight spot. She might have been slow, but she really is an artist. When she can’t draw something, she just can’t. She gave it her all… Even though it was something that’d only be on screen for two seconds… If we couldn’t ask them to do something, I said I should go ahead and do it myself.

So, I gather that you drew some key animation yourself. Are manga and anime too different to draw for?

Both mediums are used basically to capture “movement,” so I think they are the same. You go with the flow, trying to capture “movement”… You think about how original you can express it. That’s a really fun undertaking. For example, even if it’s just a scene of a character turning to look back, if you strive to give it a little touch, you can really bring out an erotic feeling. That’s the stuff I’m talking about. If I had a lot of money, I would dabble more in in-between animation. I now understand why Otomo Katsuhiro-san was so obsessed with it (laughs).

I’ve seen the OVA. It felt like reading one of your works.

Do you think so? I didn’t ask him to do it, but to keep close to the atmosphere of the original work, Mr. Yoshikazu outlined the key points. He put the same things as my drawings in those scenes. But if you looked closely, you could tell that they were different. When I saw the whole thing, I thought “wow, it’s the same!” However, upon closer inspection, I found out that such scenes did not exist in the original. I even thought maybe something was wrong with me. The same also goes for the lines. “Did he ever say that? He might have said that…” But when I re-read, I see that no such line was uttered. I had so many moments like that.

What was the fans’ reaction to this OVA adaptation?

When I said it was happening, I received an equal amount of positive and negative reactions. Well, that’s only to be expected. So, like I thought, only when I said that Mr. Yoshikazu was the one directing it, I saw the real opposition. The animation director was decided on, but the VAs weren’t cast yet. When news of the production got out, I received letters saying “it’s too late, I give up!” (laughs) They said stuff like, “Here we are, so against this idea, but you still say that you’ll do it! I don’t care anymore!” I can say that there are people who definitely won’t watch it. It makes me happy to see the work being loved that much, but when people are that obsessed with it… It’s kind of scary. I sometimes go as far not seeing it as something I myself created. But well, there are still a lot of people who say “I might cry and whine, but I’ll still watch it.”

Can we have Ms.Takemiya, the creator herself, do some advertisement for the OVA?

The OVA didn’t embarrass me, so I’ll keep promoting it. I don’t think it’ll ruin your image of the work. But I know that there are people who are too nitpicky and say stuff like the lines of a character’s profile is kind of off and they hate it, or that their legs are too thin  or that their feet look weird (laughs). In that sense, we paid extra attention to the movement itself and tried to animate the characters in a natural manner. “The Poem of the Wind and the Trees” makes you think of subtle movements, right? We can’t have them move too briskly, and even the fight scene is nothing too serious. Because Mr. Yoshikazu didn’t want to create too vivid of a scene. Rather, he didn’t want it to stink of “masculinity” that much. And people who’ve only seen the character designs might think that they look nothing like the manga, but when they are in motion, they do look like their manga counterparts. As for the voice of the characters, I don’t know the actress of Gilbert, but we have Nobita-kun for Serge (laughs)! People who are into anime will recognize her voice, so they might be a little bit of put off by that, but she doesn’t sound like Nobita-kun here. Not at all! The more you listen to her acting, the more you enjoy it! There are parts that reflect Serge’s character, so I’m really content with the result.

Can we consider this as “episode 1” of a series? Do you have plans for a continuation?

If this OVA sells, it might happen. If this one gets a positive reaction, I think we can make another one. The producer said that’s what he thought would happen. If you ask Mr. Yoshikazu, he says it’ll be at least 6 episodes long, but I doubt that. I can’t bring myself to believe that we can make that many episodes. Anyway, to think that we won’t be working with the staff who brought it to life with such resemblance feels so sad. But I also think that if we ask them to do it again, they’ll simply run away (laughs). We’ve already done Yoshikazu-san’s favorite part right off the bat, so what remains is the hard part. He says he can’t decipher a character like Augu (laughs). Maybe another director might do better.

And what about the future of the story in manga?

There’s the stuff about marriage and children problems, how to reach enlightenment, and everything in-between until Serge’s death. But even if I drew that, that would have no meaning for people who are only here for what Gilbert and Serge had (laughs). I don’t have any plans to draw any continuation for the moment, but one day, if I ever get the chance… If the are conditions right, I think I’d like to draw it.

Can we have your final message for Puff readers?

Watch the OVA. Please do it. I believe that if you watch it once, all of your worries will be washed away.

[4ttack-ur-heart]

Abstract Love~

NSFW

Pairing: Rafayel x fem! Reader

Warnings: Rafayel tops, smut, scissors used to cut clothing.

Summary: What had started out as a wholesome idea of becoming Rafayel’s human canvas quickly shifts into sexual tension and a passionate night.

AN: I haven’t written a fic in like over a year so bare with me if there’s any mistakes or it’s just bad lol 😭

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“Hold still, Cutie.” Rafayel gently commands as he grips your wrist.

His tongue just barely pokes past his normally pouting lips in concentration as he angles the paintbrush carefully over your skin.

You let out a small giggle as the brush fibers danced across your ticklish arm. “It tickles though.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh and grips your wrist a little tighter.

You see, the day just started with him painting a commission and you stopped by to spend time with him and wind down after a long week. But after many little snarky comments and teasing each other, he managed to splatter you with paint as a joke.

Unfortunately for you, the paint splatter (according to Rafayel) looked just like a specific species of coral that grew in Lemuria. To you, it looked just like what it was; a paint splatter. He's the artist, though.

So now, you’re being held hostage and yelled at to hold still by your dramatic boyfriend while he finishes your new armpiece on the round ottoman in his living room.

“Ya know, people would kill for me to paint on them.” He says and his gaze shifts from your arm to your eyes. “You could be just a little grateful.”

Blowing a stray piece of hair out your face, you roll your eyes at his comment but stay silent.

He continues working in silence after that. A bit of annoyance runs through you as he continues to trail the paintbrush higher up your arm until the strokes hit the edge of your t-shirt sleeve.

Rafayel grabs your sleeve and tugs at the material impatiently. “Off.”

“No, Raf, I just wanna relax and you still have to finish your piece-”

“Please, baby?”

Fuck, now Rafayel sits there with the saddest puppy dog eyes as his eyebrows curve up. He even adds a lip wobble in there to really get under your skin.

You let out a sigh, a lazy smile playing on your lips as you agree. “Okay, okay. Big baby.” Your fingers curl underneath your top to take it off.

Rafayel’s hand quickly grabs you before you can tug any further. “Wait, you’re gonna smudge the paint.”

And just like that, your blood pressure rises again. Your arms drop down to your sides and wait for more directions, cause apparently you aren’t doing it right.

“Please don’t hate me.” He stands up and walks over to a nearby cabinet with his back turned towards you. All you can hear is junk rattling around as he rummages in one of the drawers.

As he turns around, you don’t miss the shiny glint in the basking sunlight of what he is holding in his hands.

You quickly sit up straighter and your mouth drops open in shock. “You are not cutting off my shirt.”

Rafayel sits down beside you again, yet you back away as he moves closer.

“Please? I’ll buy you like ten more,” he begs as if he were asking you for a piece of candy. Rafayel stares at your glare in dismay, and then the begging continues.

“Raf, I like this shirt.”

“My love,” his arms wrap around your waist and he nestles his head into your lap. “I’ve been working on that commission for hours. I just need a little break.”

Rafayel’s warm breath fans over the exposed skin on your tummy and lets out a soft groan as his arms tighten around your body.

“My rock, my inspiration, my muse. I’ll never ask for anything again.”

You let out a laugh knowing damn well that wasn’t true in the slightest.

He pouts again at your reaction and lets out a huff. “What’s it gonna take?”

Your fingers thoughtfully stroke your chin as if you were a wise man with a beard. “I want you to take me to that nice restaurant with the fancy classical music.”

He goes to respond but you cut him off before he could even let out a sound.

“And a trip to the arcade. They have a new plushie collection.”

“Done.” Rafayel pushes your body against the ottoman as he moves to straddle you and makes sure to push all of your hair away from your shirt. “Hold still, baby.”

If circumstances were a bit different, this would be so sexy.

He grips the bottom of your top, the cool metal of the scissors gently grazing your skin sending shivers up your body. The thin fabric easily slices as he gets closer to your neck.

“Tilt your head back.” His free hand grips your chin and gently pushes back, exposing your neck. With a final snip, the fabric now hangs loosely off your body, leaving just your bra exposed. He helps you out of it and discards the ruined shirt and scissors to the side.

Rafayel continues to hover over you, his breath growing ragged at the sight of your breasts straining against your bra from the position. He leans down and places a lingering kiss on your lips. His tongue glides over your bottom lip before slowly dragging his lips down your jawline and neck.

“R-raf…” you breathe out. What the heck is he doing? Is he trying to make you horny or trying to make art? If he continues, you’d know you both would be too turned on and needy for each other to continue.

“I know, I know.” His head falls on your chest in defeat. “I won’t be able to stop if we keep going.”

There’s a silence for a few moments before he lets out a sigh, the air flowing between the valley of your breasts.

Letting out another groan, Rafayel focuses on finishing you- well, his art on you.

“Don’t get horny. Don’t get horny. Don’t get horny.” The muffled words ring from him like a prayer and it sends you into a laughing fit.

“C'mon finish up.” You tap at his arm and he reluctantly sits up and grabs the paintbrush again.

The next 20 minutes were spent in silence. Your eyes were closed as you didn’t think you'd find this activity as relaxing as you originally thought. The occasional hums and steady breathing fill the void in the meantime. Rafayel had managed to paint his way up your arm, across your clavicle, and back down to the other arm. The original coral piece he had started with had expanded into various designs of foliage, all oceanic of course. Vibrant colors littered your body as different designs of seaweed, shells, and even bubbles coated most of your top half.

You feel the tip of the brush swoop down between your cleavage before abruptly stopping. Blinking your eyes open at the pause, you look down and see Rafayel’s eyes sadly staring at the front band of your bra that connects the cups. His bottom lip was stuck between his teeth as he hesitantly met your eyes.

Sitting up carefully, your hands reach back to unclasp the garment and you don’t miss the way his eyes lit up at the sight of your now naked chest.

“Are you excited that my bra is off cause of my tits or so you can continue painting?” You tease and wave the dangling bra in front of his face.

He tosses the garment away and it lands helplessly on one of his easels across the room. The blue and pinky irises were now glazed over with something you couldn’t quite catch.

“Both.”

Rafayel moved his palette stand closer to his new position. The veins in his hands flexed as he twirled the brush between his fingers and dipped it back in his colors.

“Ooh,” you shiver slightly as the cold paint bleeds from the paintbrush down your breasts and your nipples start to grow perky. “Can I put on some pasties?”

Rafayel lets out a small snicker at your words. His eyes never leave your body as he continues to paint. His eyes flick to yours and he raises an eyebrow, “Did you really just ask me that?”

Your hands move your hair off your neck and you go to rub your shoulders for warmth but remember the wet paint coating your skin.“Yes, didn’t I buy some when I wore that dress with the open back for your last exhibition? I could’ve sworn I left them here.”

“I threw them out.” Rafayel’s words were quick. Too quick. Not to mention his focus had immediately shifted back to painting your chest. Your boyfriend is not smooth, he just wants to see your boobs.

“Rafayel.” Your tone is playful as you draw out your next words, “I’m cooold.”

Rafayel’s eyes lock onto your hard nipples. His lips parted slightly as a wicked idea filled his brain. Wordlessly, he lowers his head and quickly suctions his lips around the left bud. You moan out in surprise, your hands immediately coming up to entangle into his purple locks. His tongue swirls around the bud, lips squelching against your skin and his teeth lightly graze it.

Rafayel pulls off the swollen bud with a harsh pop and dips his head to latch onto your other nipple. Your body squirms in response with little breathy whimpers leaving your mouth.

After giving the same treatment, he pulls off the other nipple, and a smirk forms on his face. “Warm enough now?”

And just like that, he continues painting, while you try to ignore the wetness forming between your legs.

Oh, this son of a bitch is evil.

Rafayel stretches the artwork down to your naval and his left hand starts to grip your hip. You couldn’t help but continue to squirm and writhe a bit as the soft bristles kiss your skin. Not to mention the now heated sexual tension building up.

You squeeze your legs together in hopes of ignoring the growing heat.

“If you keep moving, I’ll tie you down.” He threatens.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Rafayel is not normally this… bold. The sex you two have- you wouldn’t call it vanilla at all, but usually you’re the one initiating anything freaky so to have him start to tease you like this so nonchalantly is turning you on badly.

“Is that a threat?” You ask.

“That’s a promise.”

Finally, the brush stops at your pants.

“You know the drill,” he says as he tugs at the belt loop of your jeans. His fingers quickly unbutton the front and he gradually pulls them off with your panties.

“Wait, Raf, everything?” A gasp escapes you as you’re now fully bare in front of him. Another shiver runs through your body as his eyes are fixated on your cunt. You’re just hoping he can’t tell how aroused you are. Silence is his only answer. Your jeans are tossed carelessly with the rest of your clothes, but he keeps a hold of the lacy panties in his hand.

“Someone’s a little hot and bothered, isn’t she?” He asks as his thumb brushes over the wet patch on the fabric. Rafayel gives a small chuckle before dropping the panties and kneeling in front of your body.

You go to sit up only for his hand to quickly stop you.

“Stay there, paint isn’t dry yet.”

His voice had gotten a bit raspier it seems, the tone dropping as his eyes started to cloud with desire. You’re able to catch sight of his half-hard cock behind his pants and you exhaled shakily, but obey nonetheless.

Once again, the cold bristles touch your skin, making it even harder to stay still as he trails them down to your hip bones. “R-Raf…”

“Hmm?” His eyes never meet yours, too invested in focusing on finishing his creation so he can ruin the fuck out of it.

And you.

After only hearing silence from you, he finally looks over to meet your needy expression. He knows that look, he practically invented it. Your eyes had shifted to match a puppy’s and your mouth formed a pout as small huffs of air left your parted lips. The same stupid look he gave you earlier when he wanted to start this project. Oh, how it came to bite him in his Lemurian ass.

“Lemme finish up and I’ll fuck you, cutie. I promise.” His now quivering hand goes to continue painting down your thighs and you jerk abruptly as the brush kisses your inner thigh.

When Rafayel looks over, he can see the wetness start to travel down the lips of your pussy, a small puddle staining the furniture underneath you. He feels his cock twitch in his pants and his breath hitches in his throat. His hands hook underneath your thighs and pulls you closer to him before diving in like a hungry shark.

You let out a surprised whine as you feel his tongue slide into your folds and start to lick. Instantly, your leg curls around his neck and he groans into you. His tongue circles around your clit and suctions to it, much like he did to your nipples. Dirty moans leave your lips as small beads of sweat start to accumulate on your forehead.

“Hu-agh!” Your fingers grasp the edges of the ottoman fiercely as you start to slowly grind your hips into his face.

Rafayel slurps at your cunt, the filthy noises filled the once-silent room and his groans send vibrations straight to your core. After one more long suck on your clit, he pulls away, much to your dismay.

Ignoring your whines of protest, he looks at the puffy bundle of nerves and he can feel his cock fully hardening. The golden rays of the setting sun through the windows glow onto Rafayel and you can see your juices coating the lower half of his face.

“Baby, let’s stop painting,” you reach for his hand that rested on your thigh. “Please, I need you.”

Rafayel would love nothing more than to take you right here and now. To smear every piece of furniture in this room with the paint from your body, but he has a better idea in mind. An idea that required him to finish painting you.

“Soon, my love.” He leans over once more to lift your chin and he brings his face closer to yours as he seals your mouths together. You could taste yourself on his lips and you moan into his mouth when he slips his tongue in briefly. He pulls away and ruffles a hand through his hair.

Rafayel tells you to stay sitting up as he works on finishing your thighs and legs.

Soon enough, your front half is covered in paint. His detailed masterpiece swirls down your body and he swears you look so ethereal. Rafayel holds out a hand to help you up and he guides you to one of the floor-length mirrors resting on the wall.

He stands behind you as you take in his work, hands settling on the outside of your hips as he presses your body against his. A soft kiss is placed on your shoulder blade.

You really did look beautiful.

“If you give me at least twenty minutes to do your back, I promise you, my queen, I will worship you.”

A frown appears on your lips in response to his words.

More waiting?

“How would you even paint my back?” You ask since you risk the possibility of smearing or cracking the creation down your front.

“Just stand, okay? I’ll be quick.” Rafayel promises.

Bracing your hands against one of the walls in his studio, your hair was now pulled up, as Rafayel continued to paint your body.

Within only a short time, your back and the rest of your arms were completely painted. Rafayel had already planned out the rest of the piece in his mind while he was eating you out. How to enhance your figure and beauty without taking up too much time. Because, let’s face it- he wanted you, needed you. So, he had decided to go with larger and simpler designs instead of going as small and intricate as he did with your front.

You weren’t squirming as much even though it tickled as he continued lower and he wasn’t stopping as often either, his strokes deliberate and quick. Both of you guys had one goal in mind and you were eager to achieve it.

Rafayel kneeled on the ground, just barely finishing your calves.

Almost there.

Finally.

The last brush stroke was done.

Rafayel slowly got up, placing the paintbrush on the easel where your bra hung from. His hand entertained with yours. Standing in front of the mirror again, he turns you to the side so you can see his creation.

"Wow, Raf, it's beautiful."

Underwater floral patterns flowed gracefully across your body, each vibrant hue—deep blues, soft pinks, and rich greens—complementing your skin tone beautifully. Intricate details danced in the designs, tracing from the curve of your neck down to your ankles, creating a stunning tapestry of the ocean's beauty enveloping you completely.

"I wanted you to take a good look at it before it's totally ruined."

Your eyes flit down to his pants and that's when you notice how hard he is.

With that, he practically drags you to his bedroom.

“Wait,” you stopped halfway through the doorway. “I’ll get paint all over you and the bed. Shouldn’t I go wash up really quick?”

Rafayel scoffs and a smirk crosses his features as he starts to unbutton his shirt. “Cutie, that’s the whole idea.”

He reaches underneath his bed and pulls out a large folded white tarp. Quickly throwing off the pillows and duvet, he placed the tarp on top of the sheets.

You stand there, slowly getting the idea. You watch as he takes off his shirt, slacks, and boxers, tossing them in the corner. His cock was still hard as it curved upwards and the tip grazed his stomach.

Rafayel walks over to you with a new look of determination in his eyes. His hand locks with yours as he leads you to the bed.

“Let’s make art.”

Without waiting for your reaction, he gently pushes you onto the bed and crawls over you. His lips fiercely locked onto yours in a sloppy kiss as you both let out needy whimpers and groans.

Rafayel attaches his lips to your neck and starts to nibble at the sensitive skin. You let out needy whimpers when he hits your sweet spot and you curl your leg around his waist, your deprived pussy needing friction- anything.

His hard cock hits your cunt and you both react with breathy whines. The tarp crinkles and the material squeaks a bit when Rafayel leans down and lowers his head by your throbbing clit once more, his tongue darting out and circling the bundle of nerves. Not holding back anymore, your back arches off the tarp as your moans fill the air.

“Fuck, you taste so good.”

Rafayel's bare arms lock against your legs, keeping them spread as he feasts on you. His tongue trails lower and swirls around the entrance of your eager hole, his whole face practically buried between your folds.

“Augh- right there…” you whisper breathlessly. “N-no, where are you going?”

Your fingers curl into his hair when you feel him start to pull away. He hovers over you again and places his hands beside your head. His lips find yours and he starts to rut himself against your cunt.

“F-fuck.” Rafayel whimpers against you and lets out a long hum. He becomes annoyed at the thought of ending so soon when you two just barely started. “I wanted to savor this moment, but baby, I can’t. I need you. Please.”

He pulls back slightly, the intensity of his dark, smoldering eyes locking onto yours with a passion that ignites a fire deep within. They seem to plead silently, urging you to utter the words that linger on the tip of your tongue, a promise of unspoken desires hanging in the air between you.

“Please, Raf, don’t make me wait.”

His hand trails down between your naked bodies and grasps his aching cock. He slides it up your folds, coating it in your wetness before slowly sliding in.

You both moan in unison as your gummy walls envelop his cock. Rafayel’s face is buried in your neck, as one hand holds up his weight and the other tangles in your hair.

He starts to thrust in and out, and your toes start to curl. The room becomes heated fast as the sinful sounds of skin slapping mix with filthy moans.

“Mm, fuck, you feel… so good.” He pants in your ear and his tongue darts out to lick the shell of your ear. “My beautiful muse.”

His words help tighten the knot in your lower tummy with your cries become louder with every thrust as you desperately try to chase your release.

Sloppy kisses are placed along your face and his moans become ragged groans as he too is close to cumming.

“I— augh!.”

“I know, baby, I know. Me too.”

Words are really hard right now. Your mind was too cock drunk to even think straight. Rafayel lets out a choked noise and his thrusts start to falter slightly.

Dazed, your hand brings his face in front of you so you can see his pretty eyes. “F-finish with me.” Though your words are slurred and lazy, he understands completely.

His hips thrust even deeper into your hole as his body starts to shake. Your orgasm washes over you and you cry out, muscles tensing.

Before you can even recover, Rafayel pulls out of you, emitting a small noise at your sensitive walls. He roughly grabs your hips and turns you over on your stomach. The sweat on your body smears the once beautiful artwork covering your skin. The tarp shifts at the movement.

“One more, cutie, please,” Rafayel bends over your form and places another tender kiss behind your ear. “Can you do one more for me?”

You nod tiredly and he picks up your legs and spreads them once more. His fingers are placed in front of your mouth and you close your lips around them. Your tongue swirls around his digits for a good few seconds before he pulls them out.

“Good girl.”

You let out another breathy moan when his hand reaches down to finger your already stretched-out hole, ensuring you’re wet enough for another round. His long fingers are buried deep within you and your sore hips push back to rut against them.

When Rafayel pulls his hand away, there’s a long strand of cum connected to his fingers. He takes them in his mouth, humming in satisfaction at the taste.

It’s slippery when his cock finds its way to your slit again. With a slow push, he enters you again and bottoms out.

His thrusts are sloppier this time as he lays on top of you in the prone bone position. Your mind is hazy and blurred from pleasure and borderline overstimulation. The way his vulgar words are quietly whispered in your ear as if he wants to ensure you those words are for you and only you.

“You like it when I top, huh?” His words are a bit broken as small gasps and grunts are caught in between. His hand brushes away the hair sticking to your forehead from sweat and he places a tender kiss to your temple, while his other reaches under your stomach, forcing you to arch your hips.

“Mhm!”

Rafayel’s fingers find your clit once again, a broken cry escaping you in the process. The familiar coil in your tummy appeared again as your second orgasm of the evening was quickly approaching.

Loud whimpers started to leave Rafayel as well and he whines at his own orgasm building up.

“T-together, my love?”

That’s all it took to send you over the finish line. Both of you cry out in ecstasy as you finish together.

You can feel his hips stutter from his release, but Rafayel quickly pulls out before he can cum inside you a second time. Rafayel watches in a euphoric bliss as his cum shoots out all over your back in spurts before lazily trailing down your ass. The colors he had painted on you earlier were heavily faded, smeared, and now mixed with his white seed.

A content sigh escapes him as he rolls off of you and gathers you into his arms. Rafayel places loving kisses over your sweaty forehead and hair. Your fatigue quickly caught up to you and you felt like a limp noodle in his arms.

“Do you want me to start cleaning you up or would you rather lay down for a while?” He asks as he grabs a small rag sitting on the nightstand and starts to wipe the cum and sweat off your body.

"Can we just stay for a moment?" Your hand finds his resting on top of your hip, and you lock your fingers together.

"Of course, I'll start the bath in a few minutes." Rafayel brings your locked hands to his lips and kisses the back of your hand. "I love you, my muse."

----------

Bonus:

"So like... now what?"

The next morning, after freshening up, Rafayel laid the fully dried tarp against the bed. His lips were pursed and his arms crossed as he studied the tarp covered in paint.

The once-pristine white tarp had transformed into a chaotic canvas, splattered with vibrant paint that danced across its surface. The delicate designs he had painstakingly created were completely obscured, lost beneath the bold colors. Only a few faint handprints and the rough outlines of your limbs remained, turning the simple canvas into a wild abstract masterpiece.

The glass of cold-brew coffee in your hands jingles and Rafayel turns to you.

"What do you mean 'now what'?"

"I mean do we throw it out now? Or fold it up maybe?"

"We can't throw it out! This is art, this is our love, this is-"

"Porn."

[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY NINTH; side a — cheater - the vamps | e. munson x r

w; does not follow ‘stranger things’ timeline, cheating (not eddie or reader), a fight breaks out (shocker!!!!), best friends to lovers trope, angst, fluff an; i love the vamps ❤️❤️❤️❤️

mixtape here!

Eddie grunts as his foot stumbles over the rug that had been flipped over, grumbling under his breath as he looks back at the offending object. 

You'd run off and leave him once again, looking for James in the crowd of people. 

He used to be only okay with going to parties (because he was making bank), but now it’s exhausting and makes him nauseous when he goes to one. Yet, he could never say no to you…. for whatever reason. 

No. He knows the reason. You would never figure it out though. Especially now that you’re with someone like James. He makes a face when his name mentally passes through his mind, shivering as if he’d been told something disgusting and it leaves some sort of bad taste in his mouth. 

Jogging up the steps, he’s in search of a bathroom. His eyes scope the area, heading towards a door. Opening it up, he stumbles to a stop as his lips part. 

Oooh boy. 

“Eddie?” 

He’s aware again that he’d just walked into something that almost causes him to black out and do something he regrets. James is standing there with cheap, pink lipstick smeared above his upper lip. 

The girl looks away quickly, having the decency to look a tiny bit ashamed. 

“Hey, man,” James chuckles slightly. He’s nervous and Eddie can tell by the way his hands shake when they lift from the girls waist. “That was…I didn’t…I tried pushing her off.” 

Eddie scoffs. “Yet, you looked like you were having the time of your life. Goodbye, James.” He gives him a mock salute, slamming the door behind himself, muffling the pleads that leave James’ mouth. 

He’s quick to jog down the stairs once again, now on the hunt for you. He had to get you out of here before telling you. 

“Eddie!” He stops in his steps, following the sound of your voice. He hears his name once again, this time from James. He’s quick on his feet, grabbing your hand when he finally reaches you. 

“We need to leave. Now.” 

You looked a bit startled from his sudden frazzled state, stumbling but following behind him as he pulled you in between the crowd and towards the front door. You look back when you hear James’ voice call out for Eddie once again. 

“Hey, Eds. Wait for—” 

“I’m not waiting for him unless you want him to get—” Your hand slips from his once he’s outside in the cool air. He quickly turns and glances at you quickly before looking at James. 

“Honey, I was calling out for you guys. Are you leaving?” 

“James—” 

“Eddie told me we needed to leave,” You nod. “I was trying to tell him to wait on you.” 

“Tell her why I wouldn’t want to wait on you, James.” Eddie clenches his jaw. You glance between the two, suddenly confused now by the tension. It makes you slightly uncomfortable, shifting on your feet. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” James shakes his head, a small smirk pulling at his lips. 

Collecting himself, Eddie shakes his head and steps closer, his hand grabbing your wrist. “Come on. Let’s get you home.” 

“Eddie—”

“She’s not going anywhere with you, you freak,” James spits at him, pulling you back. Your brows pinch together, staring up at him as you stumble from his reaction. “You’re so pathetic thinking that she would actually want anything to do with you,” He lets out a condescending laugh. 

“I see the way you act around her. You’re not slick with—” 

Eddie wasn't sure what had happened after that. He was standing one moment, holding his composure well. 

Or…he thought he was. 

His ears are ringing now and his knuckles are throbbing. A small breath leaves his mouth when he’s dragged off of James. “Okay! Alright!” He yanks himself from whoever had a grip on his arm. He stares down at James who had tears slipping down his cheeks, slipping in with the blood. 

His chest heaves as he walks over, trying to talk calming breaths. “Don’t ever talk to me that way again,” He points to him. “Next time you think about cheating on someone, think about what happened, yeah?” 

James’ shaky hand cradles his nose in his hand as his eyes stare up at Eddie who looms over his body. His green eyes drift over to you, gulping slightly when he sees the look on your face. 

“What do you mean?” You finally speak up. 

Eddie rubs his lips together before turning towards you. “I walked in on him kissing some other girl,” His hands rest on his hips.

Man, I really need to learn how to not black out. 

Your eyes drop toward James, brows furrowing together. “I was going to tell you in the van but he just had to get in the way,” James slowly stands to the ground, shirt wrinkled a bit with spots of blood. “Which do you want to go with?” 

Eddie shouldn’t have given you the option to choose who you wanted to leave with. You tend to always give people second chances. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when you step towards him, your arm brushing over his. He nods wordlessly, pulling you away. 

James calls after you, following quickly. Eddie shakes his head and turns, holding his hand up, watching as he stumbles to a stop. “You just don’t get the hint, do you? Your actions have consequences. So next time, you wanna choose something that has your nose broken again as a consequence, think and ask yourself if you enjoyed that feeling.” 

James’ glances back at you and you quickly look away, crossing your arms over your chest. Eddie gives him one last warning look before turning towards you, placing a hand on your back as he leads you towards his van. 

The door squeaks when it opens and you quickly climb in. He shuts the door and rounds the front, quickly getting inside himself and starting it up. 

It’s quiet on the way back to your apartment. Eddie’s also slightly embarrassed, yet, not too much because he’d do that over and over if he truly needed to for you. Once he parks, he waits for you to leave his van without saying a word. 

“Do you wanna come in?” You glance over at him. He looks over at you, nodding slightly. 

“Uh, sure.” He kills the engine before getting out and rushing towards your side. You smile to yourself when he opens your door, slipping out of the van. He shuts it and follows behind you towards the stairs. 

“Sorry. The elevator is down.” 

“Again?” He chuckles a bit. 

“Again.” You nod. He smiles a bit, shaking his head slightly. You dig your keys out of your purse, unlocking the door. Eddie steps in after you, shutting and locking the door behind himself. 

“Sit. I’ll clean up your knuckles.” You motion towards the couch before walking towards your bathroom. He listens and makes his way over, sitting down as he glances down at his hand. He winces a bit.

First-aid in hand, you make your way back and sit next to him on the couch, pulling his hand towards you. It’s silent as you clean away the blood that had dried. 

“Eds?” 

“Yeah?” 

“What James said,” He quickly looks at you before looking away, gulping. “About you being pathetic.” 

“Oh,” He lets out a slight scoff, shrugging a bit. Your grip tightens on his hand. “Hey, it’s fine. I don’t care what he—”

“Especially about the part where I didn’t want anything to do with you,” You cut him off. He looks at you, noticing that you were already looking at him. “I just…I didn’t want something to happen between us and I lost you altogether.” 

“Hey…” He turns towards you as he shakes his head, a small frown on his face. “You could never lose me, okay?” 

You stare at him quietly for a moment, reaching out and cupping his cheeks softly. “Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” He whispers. 

You smile and lean close, nudging your nose against his, looking into his brown eyes. “I love you.” 

He’s quick to grin, leaning close as he presses his lips against yours. It’s not really a kiss, yet you don’t care. You laugh softly when he pulls away, his hand coming to grip the side of your neck softly. 

“Say that again.” 

You press another kiss against his cheek before nodding. “I love you.” You whisper. 

He presses his nose into your cheek softly when his lips press another kiss to your lips — now addicted. “I love you too.” Staring at him lovingly, you nod. 

“I know you do.” 

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sstar-ggirl — @love-quinn

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[waves-realm]

Atsumu, Sakusa, Suna, and Tsukishima reacting to their girlfriend wearing something revealing on a date

Atsumu Miya

Atsumu loves it. The moment he sees you in that outfit, his jaw drops, and he lets out a long whistle.

“Damn, sweetheart, ya tryna kill me before dinner?” He’s shameless about checking you out, grinning like a fool.

He will 100% show you off, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, and making sure everyone knows you’re with him.

If he notices other people staring too much, though, he gets a little possessive. Might throw an arm around your shoulders or kiss your temple just to make it clear you’re taken.

But mostly, he just hypes you up. “Hottest person in the whole damn place, and ya came here with me.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi

At first, he’s stunned silent. His eyes widen slightly, and he stares for a solid few seconds, taking in every detail.

He clears his throat and tries to act normal, but you can see the tips of his ears turning red. “You’re wearing that?”

He’s conflicted—on one hand, you look incredible, but on the other, he hates the idea of other people looking at you the way he does.

The entire date, he’s extra protective, walking close to you, guiding you with a hand on your lower back, and glaring at anyone who stares too long.

At some point, he mumbles, “You look amazing, but next time… maybe something less eye-catching.” He’s not even mad, just struggling.

Suna Rintarō

He raises a single eyebrow when he sees you, smirking. “Well, well, well. What’s the occasion?”

He loves it but plays it cool, teasing you just enough to get a reaction. “Trying to make me jealous? Or just making my job harder?”

If someone stares too much, he just gives them that look—the lazy, unimpressed stare that makes people immediately look away.

The entire night, he has his hand on you somewhere—your waist, your thigh, the small of your back. It’s casual, but there’s a definite you’re mine energy behind it.

At the end of the date, he leans in and murmurs, “Next time, you’re wearing that just for me.”

Tsukishima Kei

The moment he sees you, he pauses. His eyes drag up and down slowly, and then he just… scoffs. “Seriously?”

But don’t be fooled—he is definitely affected. His ears turn pink, and he keeps glancing at you when he thinks you won’t notice.

If you tease him about it, he’ll roll his eyes and say something sarcastic like, “I just don’t want to deal with every idiot staring at you all night.”

He acts annoyed, but he subtly adjusts his stance so he’s always between you and anyone staring too hard.

At the end of the night, when he thinks you’re not looking, he lets himself really admire you and mutters, “You really do look good, though.”

[teslasucks37]

READER TEACHING CHARLIE HOW TO FINGER HER??? YOUR WRITING IS PHENOMENAL

CW: NSFW under the cut (MDNI), sub!Charlie, inexperienced!Charlie, fingering, squirting, afab!Reader (no gendered pronouns)

A/N: Charlie is deffo experienced enough today where he doesn’t have to learn, but if we were to go back in time before he did… 🤤🤤🤤 ALSO THANK U FOR THE COMPLIMENT ON MY WRITING IT MEANS SO MUCH TO ME!!! For a long time I haven’t been able to post any fics of mine cause I thought they weren’t good or was worried that people would be sad that they weren’t done, but Tumblr has been helping me write more often and be okay with what I’ve written, so here’s this 🤭

Charlie Slimecicle x Reader

Teaching Him Hcs!!!

In the past you’d told him to just “do whatever feels right”.

You were simply too horny and needy to explain it to him in the moment.

He’d been a virgin before then, never having much experience with sex in general.

And of course when he did finger you for the first time it didn’t feel AMAZING, but it wasn’t bad by any means.

Well, he must have caught on because the next day he turned to you on the couch while you were watching a show.

“Can you… Teach me? Please?” He practically begged. “I want to know how to make you feel good…”

The question made your thighs clench.

Within seconds, you were laid back on the arm of the chair, your shorts and panties were discarded on the floor.

Charlie sat between your legs, staring in awe at the apex of your thighs, holding them like they were made of gold.

He’s practically silent, so shy and not wanting to miss a single instruction.

You grasp his wrist, separating his middle and ring finger from on his hand. “Use these two.”

Slowly pulling his hand to your pussy, you place the pads of his fingers on your slit and release his wrist.

He sighs, sliding his fingers over your entrance, slipping between your folds gently. “You’re really wet.”

“Cause I like it, Char~” You say with a smile, making his face flush.

He watches how you breathe, squirm, moan at his ministrations.

“But how do I…” He chews at his bottom lip in thought, before slowly turning his hand up and slipping his fingers inside your pussy.

“Fuck…”

He freezes, eyes wide and worried.

“Good.” You reassure him. “So good, Charlie~”

He cautiously moves his fingers in and out, constantly looking up at you to gauge your reactions to what he’s doing, to see what makes you feel the best.

“Curl your fingers up.” You plead, grabbing at his bicep and feeling his muscles flex as he moves.

Instantly, he changes his angle to reach that spongy spot inside you, taking note of the different feel.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, fuck~”

God he’s such a good learner for you.

His fingers and hands are so big he doesn’t even need a third.

And they’re so fucking long he can immediately reach that spot you struggle to with every thrust.

“Other hand.” You reach out with an open hand.

You drag his fingers over your clit, jolting at the sensation. “Feel that?”

He nods, his motions inside you slowing.

“That’s my clit.”

His eyes widen in recognition as he swipes his middle finger over it again.

“Ah~” You breathe out as he circles it all on his own. “Yeah, just like that.”

Charlie’s fingers press harder, just slightly, making your back arch.

“Mmm, keep using your other hand.”

He’s so mesmerized by your reactions he hadn’t even realized he’d stopping fingering you.

You moan out as he starts to finger you again, curling his fingers into just the right spot. “Faster~”

He obeys you perfectly, pounding his fingertips quicker into your gummy walls.

His finger on your clit becomes two fingers, circling it brutally in a way that hurts just the right way.

“Yes, don’t stop!” You moan, your head falling back over the arm of the couch. “Just like that, baby~”

Charlie’s eyes stay on your face, unable to look away from how you squirm.

His fingers feel so good, his combined motions making your vision go white

He feels your walls flutter around him, squirting around his fingers as your thighs shake around his waist.

Your orgasm wets his hands, his wrists, your thighs, his clothes, the couch.

It’s fucking everywhere.

You practically collapse where you lay as Charlie’s hands slow to a stop.

He blinks, almost scared to move.

He’d never seen someone squirt before.

Or cum in general.

Porn didn’t count, half of it probably wasn’t even real.

He watches you come down from your high, panting and shivering. “Was that… Okay?”

“Okay?” You joke, glancing up at him with glassy eyes. “That was amazing.”

Charlie smiled, filling with pride that he’d made you cum with just his fingers.

“Do you wanna be done?”

You grin, poking at the visible erection in his pants. “Not unless he wants to be…”

You guys weren’t done for at least a couple hours.

[hoetachi]

HAPPINESS OVER EVERYTHING (H.O.E) — J. TODD

suggestive themes

I hope she don't think, that I think that she's some kind of hoe

A SOFT KNOCK graced the dark oak and he already knew whom it would be. without words being exchanged, he heard the chambers turned followed by a slight creak. there you were… in your newest ‘outfit’. off the record, this was your skimpiest outfit by far (which he loved a little too much by the slight tent in his slacks) and just knew you were getting tipped well for it.

jason relaxed a bit in the chair, umbrella twisting lazily between his fingers whilst keeping his shielded eyes on your figure. a mischievous smirk graced your glossed lips as you pressed your back to his door, which he picked up on the chambers turning again. you locked it.

time for your scheduled ‘cat & mouse’ game.

you pressed yourself free off the oak and switched your hips towards his desk. “5th time this week, doll” he pointed out as you inched closer. you now was right before him leaning over, pushing your breast together slightly whilst your perfume invaded his senses. sweet as ever, a scent he’ll never get a enough of.

“they say you pickin’ favorites mista hood” you finally spoke, your hair falling over your shoulders while you stared at him doed eyes. he always liked how you said ‘mista hood’ with your slightly hidden brooklyn accent. you don’t know it, but you’re the only one who’s allowed to refer to him as that. for everyone else it’s either ‘boss’ or ‘sir’

he exhaled, “i don’t do the favoritism bullshit.”

“then what do you do?” you asked, circling his desk. ghosting your hand over the nape of his neck, if he didn’t achieved the self control he currently had, he would’ve shuddered from the ghost of your touch without hesitation. he sees why bruce stayed up on those rooftops now, the mere thought about going against your own code for desire was a thrilling experience

“i treat people how they deserve to be treated” he stated curtly. he was never the one to sugarcoat the truth, that’s what most of the staff secretly disliked about him.

if he wanted to say ‘fuck off and rot in ditch’ he had nothing holding back, absolutely no remorse. he knew everything about everyone who worked under him and knew majority of them weren’t kind people in their day to day, so why would he treat them how he would like to be treated if they were mere scum?

“so if they wanna act like gossiping schoolgirls, i wouldn’t take their comments seriously”

“is this why you’re lingering in my office instead of… displaying your talents?”

you finally made it back before and leaned again on his desk. you pretended to think about for second. how cute you are “maybe… maybe not” another cheshire smirk graced your lips

“so.. how do i deserve to be treated, mista hood?”

“i’m letting you avoid working right now for one. two between you and i, i pay you more than your coworkers out there, even though you’re here less” he chuckled at your face at the little jab towards your absence around the lounge

“you know why though” you rolled your eyes at the jab. he loved to push your buttons, your reactions were just the cutest thing to him plus he knew you couldn’t really stay mad at him.

“how’d your exam go?”

“i feel that i definitely scored the lowest on it. im way too over my head with this veterinarian thing”

he used the hook of the umbrella he’s been twirling with to pull the strap of your bikini top and snapped it back, causing a yelp from you. you dropped your head and pouted as you rubbed the suddenly aching spot between your breast, however the same hook tilted your head up.

you were meant with crimson lens and from the looks of it, he wasn’t too happy with your comment. “don’t say that. do i look like i hire idiots?” he questioned coldly, you parted your lips to answer but realized it was a rhetorical question and thought best to not say anything. “you passed that entrance exam with flying colors, which is amazing considering there’s an 9% acceptance rate so don’t dare discredit that mind of yours”

“are you intelligent!?” he raised his voice, causing you to straighten your back with a flinch before nodding your head rapidly, “say it y/n!” he raised his voice again, “i’m intelligent” you said rapidly, making you stand up straight with your gaze falling to your feet. he mentally scolded himself for his outburst. he knew better to always watch his tone with you knowing you already get enough shit while on the clock from the others. “im sorry for yelling,” he apologized

“it’s okay, mista hood” you reassured, giving him a sheepish smile. “i just don’t ever want to catch you beating up yourself. you’re a good woman” he complimented with a much softer tone

“hmph, some woman i am” you huffed, twirling the end of your hair between your fingers unamused

his brows knitted at your comment, “what did i just say, y/n?” he scolded

“i know i know im sorry, but cmon mista hood. look where i work at?”

“it’s a fixer upper… i see potential still” the last part more for himself than the actual lounge. he’ll give credit to cobblepot, he took good care for the place but it was better under jason’s ownership.

“no man wants a woman who flirts their way into their pockets” you whispered whilst looking out the tinted window towards the vip section. the urge to cup that pretty face of yours and have those hypnotized eyes on him and him only came in droves. the fight with temptation around you could make him weak than any fight with the toughest rogues in gotham.

“speed dating ain’t workin’ out for you?”

“after the compliments and pleasantries, they don’t quite stick around once the question of what i do shows face” you joked half heartedly. no matter how much of a front you put on, he knew you wanted someone to take care of you and not just try to take you home for night

“doesn’t sound like men to me”

“then what does it sound like?”

“boys trying to play big man. someone’s way of paying the bills shouldn’t define them, so don’t let them define you. this is temporary, y/n just like those boys”

“you definitely know how to flatter a lady mista hood” you smiled softly, walking around his desk and he scooted back some to make some space for you to hop up on his desk to sit

he shrugged, feeling a bit more relaxed with you closer to him. “i’m just telling the truth”

“or maybe the truth is, you’re a really good ladies man..” there was a sudden glint in your eyes and he knew it was finally time to test how strong-willed he was against his own desire

“y/n…” he warned once you brushed your leg against his

“am i toeing the line?” your voice dripping in playfulness and your eyes shadowed with seduction, he was more than thankful for the tints on goggles how he had to close them to control his urges. how did the old bat do it with the cat for so long is all he could think about. you two barely even touched and he already so bothered

disregarding his caution, you continued your pursuit of him. “i would expect you of all people to love a bit of risk every once in a while”

“don’t start something you can’t finish” that was his second warning for you

“you see, mista hood, that’s the problem”

“you won’t let me finish. got me thinkin’ you may be into edging” you moaned, pulling in your bottom lip. he almost put together how sweet the actual melody of your moans would sound and that alone practically put him closer to the edge

“i don’t mix business with pleasure”

“it didn’t seem like a problem with liz and all the other girls” he watched again as you tried to your best not to roll your eyes at the name. liz wasn’t nothing to him nor others, if he had a rough night, he knew they’ll do anything to get even a smudge of the attention that he gives you

“they throw themselves”

a pout formed on your face and god, he could’ve been putty right in your hands. “am i not throwing myself hard enough?” you batted your lashes towards him.

“you’re better than that, doll”

you giggled as you placed a hand over your chest dramatically being flattered, “you think too highly of me, mista hood”

“i do, but who can blame me of thinking of you”

“and that’s your other problem too” he watched as you smirked. pushing yourself off of the desk, you moved the umbrella aside and decided to find a more comfortable spot to sit. you slowly sat yourself on his lap, making sure he had the perfect view of your arched back before looking over your shoulder with an innocent expression. “is this spot taken by chance?” throwing your legs over his knee, really settling against his tailored suit. you were going to be his second death for sure

he exhausted exaggeratedly, you’re the only woman he has set of rules for himself.

he can’t touch you. you can comb your fingers through his hair, acrylics scratching his scalp comfortingly and he has to fight the urge to nozzle into your touch.

he can’t taste you. he’s tempted every time you leave a glossy kiss on the corner of his mouth because knowing your love for toeing the line, he’s just curious how’d you react if one day he just captured those plump lips and explored that sweet mouth of yours and pull a moan from the depths of your core

you’re completely right

you’re his biggest problem

part 2?