#specialization but. hmm. can i combine the two.

[perilegs]

i've been wracking my head around on what my inquisitor's deal is with her being a tal vasoth merc and all but i think i can play it as her being literally just some guy <33

[lev1hei1chou]

Cravings

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 474 Synopsis: Gojo rates your pregnancy cravings Masterlist

Gojo Satoru, the man who claims to have seen everything, was about to embark on the most mysterious and thrilling adventure of his life: experiencing his partner's pregnancy cravings. As he sat beside you, observing your every move with amusement in his eyes, he couldn't help but wonder what odd concoction you would come up with next.

"Darling, I'm hungry," you declared, your eyes gleaming with excitement as you waddled into the kitchen, your baby bump leading the way.

Gojo raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "What's on the menu today, my dear?"

You grinned mischievously. "Prepare yourself, because this one's a doozy." With a flourish, you presented your creation: pickles dipped in chocolate syrup, sprinkled with crushed potato chips.

Gojo's eyes widened in disbelief, but being the supportive partner he was, he decided to give it a try. Gingerly picking up one of the peculiar snacks, he took a bite, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Hmm," he mused, chewing thoughtfully. "Interesting combination. The sweet and salty flavors complement each other surprisingly well. I'd give it a solid 7 out of 10."

You laughed, delighted by his willingness to indulge in your cravings. "Not bad, but I think we can do better."

And so, the culinary adventure continued, with Gojo eagerly tasting each strange concoction you concocted. From ice cream topped with hot sauce to peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, no craving was too bizarre for the two of you to tackle together.

As the days passed and your due date drew nearer, Gojo found himself looking forward to your cravings with a mix of anticipation and amusement. He never knew what strange combination you would come up with next, but he was always ready to dive in headfirst and give it a try.

One evening, as you sat together on the couch, Gojo felt a sudden pang of hunger. "I think it's my turn to come up with a craving," he declared, eyes twinkling.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Alright, Satoru, hit me with your best shot."

With a flourish, Gojo disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you in suspense. After a few moments, he returned, carrying a plate piled high with… ramen noodles topped with whipped cream and gummy bears.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter at the sight. "Baby, what on earth is that?"

He grinned, setting the plate down in front of you. "I call it… the Gojo Special. Trust me, it's delicious."

With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, you took a bite, expecting the worst. To your surprise, the combination of savory noodles, sweet whipped cream, and chewy gummy bears was strangely satisfying.

"Well, I'll be damned," you exclaimed, taking another bite. "This is actually pretty good!"

Gojo beamed with pride, his eyes sparkling with delight. "See? I told you I had a knack for this."

[daytaker]

The Gang React to You Petting Their Hair

Lucifer

"I am only going to say this once: stop."

You get one warning. One. If you do not cease and desist, he is throwing you out of his study, so help him Diavolo's Dad. No, he does not like it. No, not even a little bit. You really aren't going to stop? You're just a glutton for punishment, aren't you?

....You're very lucky he's too busy to hurl you bodily from this room. He'll just endure it for now.

Mammon

"Hah?! What's the big idea?! This is the revered hair of THE Great Mammon, I'll have you know. So that'll be 100 Grimm a touch, thanks! ....Hey, no, wait, why'd you stop?"

Once he's done turning bright red and clearing his throat, he'll try to capitalize on this whim of yours by offering you a discount on hair touches. A very poorly-planned scheme, because you're not going to pay to do something he'll start begging you to keep up as soon as you stop.

Oh, so Mammon is willing to let you touch his high-value hair for free? You're so honored. What a good boy you are, Mammon. (You can expect a bit more sputtering and some denials that he is anything like a good boy, but bro's into it big time. If he had a tail, it would be wagging.)

Leviathan

*shrieks in confused, touch-starved otaku*

Wait, no, he didn't say to stop! What's with these mixed signals? Petting his hair then stopping just because he shrieks a little bit? Did you want to touch his hair or not? Is it greasy? Oh god, when did he last bathe? ...It was only the other day. You have no reason to be disgusted. You're just a bigoted normie who assumes all otaku are crusty and gross!

Ahhhh?!?!?!?! Again?! Fine! Just don't change your mind again, because that's super confusing! And yeah, obviously he's blushing, you're petting his head and it feels nice and kind of tickles! ....Mm.... You know, once he's settled into it, it's really relaxing, actually...

Fast forward an hour or two and he's probably conked out with his head in your lap, drunk on affection and mostly asleep.

Satan

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

It feels weird. Why are you doing that? Wait, you're petting him? Like he's....a cat? Hmm. Interesting. He'll allow it. But you should do it properly. None of this mussing his hair around with wild abandon. You have to be gentle and use small movements. Maybe use your knuckles? Gently though. There, that's it.

So this is what it feels like. Admittedly, he probably wouldn't take kindly to this if anybody else was doing it, no matter how well they imitated proper cat-petting technique. But you're a special exception, so in the future, if you feel the need to do this, just let him know. And for the love of all things unholy, don't breathe a word about this to his brothers.

Asmodeus

"Oh, you like my hair? Isn't it soft? I'll show you the conditioner I use."

Asmo loves having his hair played with! Or brushed, or combed, or tugged (just not too hard, please!) His hair is silky smooth thanks to a mixture of his natural good looks and his shampoo/conditioner combination. He'll let you borrow them if you're interested. Your hair will look amazing! And it'll feel even better!

This is cozy. He'll just settle in and let you do this as long as you want. Careful you don't get too handsy; he knows how irresistible he is.

...Well, maybe if you're a little handsy he'll let it slide, but just because it's you.

Beelzebub

"Are you....petting me?"

Kind of weird, but it feels nice, so he isn't complaining. It's a little bit embarrassing, just because it makes him feel a little bit like a puppy, but then again, who doesn't like puppies? He'll be able to continue to go about his day not minding you petting his hair now and again. The only awkward part is how damn tall he is. You might need to keep a step stool handy.

Belphegor

"Nnngh, knock it off...! ... ... ...I changed my mind, do it again."

His initial reaction to being woken up to you stroking his head is annoyance, because dammit, he was sleeping. But once he shakes the cobwebs out of his brain, he'll realize that it actually felt really good and he could absolutely fall asleep under these circumstances.

He'll wait a little while, hoping you'll give it another try of your own accord, but if you don't, he'll eventually cave and grumpily ask you to do it again.

Diavolo

"Hahaha... That's enough, now."

He isn't actually a fan. Maybe it's the fact that he's a prince and has been acting as an autocrat more or less for centuries, but being stroked like an adored pet feels really degrading. Of course, he won't hold it against you, but seriously, stop.

Barbatos

"Are you finished playing around quite yet?"

Another one who isn't into this at all. He's more than happy to spend his free time petting you, if that's what you're interested in, but he is a petter, not a pettee. Read into this what you will.

Solomon

"You're so forward!"

Solomon likes it very much. Too much, possibly. Are you flirting with him? There's something incredibly intimate about touching someone's hair, don't you think? No, please, continue.

Simeon

"Um, what are you doing? ...As long as you're enjoying yourself, I guess!"

Simeon is more bewildered by this than most. Like, are you trying to scratch an itch for him? Is this one of those "viral memes" he's heard so much about? Well, it feels nice, and it isn't as if it's hurting anybody. He'll indulge you for now.

A little to your left, please. Ahhhh, that's the spot...

Luke

"Hehe, that tickles... Hey! Is this a Chihuahua joke?!"

It feels kind of nice, but as soon as he takes a second to think about it, he realizes that you're treating him at best like a little kid, and at worst, like a dog, and he isn't having any of that. He'll scold you for treating a Celestial being so casually, remind you that he's actually a lot older than you, technically, so who's the real baby, and secretly pine for more pets for the rest of his life.

[tasteracha]

kinktober - day seven

kink: sensory deprivation with felix

warnings: smut - MINORS DNI. use of blindfolds, new kink, unprotected sex. afab!reader.

felix is the one that brings it up, which surprises you because you’re usually the one that brings new things to the bedroom for the two of you to try. he’s a little shy about it, turning his computer screen towards you subtly and waiting for you to look up from your phone to notice. 

“ooh, kinky,” you tease when you see the page he has open, sex toys and furniture littering the screen with outrageous prices screaming out at you. “i thought you were gaming.”

“i was,” he whines a bit, sulking in the way he does when you poke fun at him. “but i was also thinking. about trying something new?”

“what were you thinking of baby?” your voice goes a little softer, warmth bubbling up in you as you sneak an arm around his so you can hold onto his bicep. 

“there’s this blindfold,” he starts, hovering his mouse over a silky piece of red fabric. “i was thinking i could use it on you? i think it would be really sexy.”

he doesn’t ask if it’s something that you would want to do, but the unspoken question is present in his words. you’re both good at maintaining your boundaries, both during sex and not, and the trust that you hold for each other is something you’re forever grateful for. 

“i’ve never considered it, but i would love to try it,” you lean closer to the screen, checking out the blindfold. “but this one’s really expensive. we can just use an eye mask or something, no?”

“i want to get this one,” he presses, sounding firm. “it’s made of this special material that doesn’t bother your skin, and the reviews say it’s really easy to untie if you need to do it quickly.” 

“you’ve put some thought into this, hmm?” you sneak your hand lower, fingers brushing at his waist. 

“yeah,” he breathes out, turning towards you to press his lips against yours. he bites at your lower lip, a quick thing, but you don’t let him pull away. you swing a leg over his, stomach swooping a bit when his gaming chair dips backwards with your combined weight. the blindfold is forgotten, for now. 

until it arrives in the mail, weeks later. the little package is addressed to him, but you recognize the name on the return address as the website he was looking at, so you rip it open and inspect it. it comes in a little satin bag, and when you open the drawstring it’s almost like you’re unwrapping something made of gold. the blindfold is nice though, the material soft and pliable against your fingers, and you hold it up to your cheek just to see what it would feel like. 

“it’s here?” he appears behind you, smirking when he sees it pressed up to your face. he doesn’t tease you for it now, but you know he’s tucking that information somewhere into his head to bring back later. 

“yes, can we use it now?” you’re a little surprised by how eager you are, but you can’t deny that the thought of having your sight taken away while felix ravishes you hasn’t left your mind since he brought it up. you thought that you would look a little sexier when it happened, maybe wearing your red lingerie set to complement the fabric, but right now you couldn’t care less that you were in leggings and an old t-shirt, not even a bra on. 

“you don’t have to ask me twice,” he plucks the blindfold from your hands and drags you to the bedroom, pushing you to sit at the foot of the bed. 

he’s so gentle when he ties the silky fabric around your head, making sure it’s not too tight on your eyes and that your hair doesn’t get tangled into the knot he’s making. it sets you completely at ease, any lingering anxiety that was present drifting away along with your sight. even your excitement seems dulled with the blanket of peace that’s settled over you. 

“okay?” his voice is almost deeper like this, your inability to see his lips moving in front of you making the sound more intense. 

“more than okay,” you say, knowing that he likes verbal affirmations at times like this. 

“i’m going to take your shirt off now, alright?” and even with the warning, you jump when his hands touch your waist, dipping against your skin as he peels your shirt off. it almost slides the blindfold off at it goes over your head, but he holds it in place, cradling the back of your head carefully. 

you knew that this would be different, but nothing could have prepared you for every brush of his skin against yours feeling like licks of fire dancing on your body. he takes off your sweatpants with the same amount of care, dragging them along with your panties down your legs until you’re left completely bare on the bed. the comforter feels so solid under your thighs, even the air seems hard where it’s touching you from every possible angle. he gently pushes you to lay down, warm hand on your back keeping you from falling too quickly.

there’s a rustle of sound to your left, and when he comes back and kneels over you he’s naked. he took off his clothes, your head feels the need to narrate what you can’t see happening. you wish you could see him, look into his eyes that you knew were filled with fondness as he runs his hands up and down your sides. he stops at your breasts, cupping one in his hand and running his thumb over your nipple. you can’t control the gasp that leaves you - you’ve felt this exact sensation before, but right now it feels different. it’s not the same as when you close your eyes when you’re overwhelmed, because at least then you can still see the kaleidoscope colors behind your lids. your entire field of vision is pitch black now, no matter where you look it’s planes of nothing. 

he leans forward and kisses you, and every nerve ending in your face lights up in pleasure. he swipes his tongue against your bottom lip before pulling away, and you chase his lips with a whine, blindly reaching out for him. 

“naughty,” he teases, voice rumbling against your ears. “next time i might have to tie you up.”

“oh,” you breathe out, his words sending a rush of heat to your core. 

“you would like that, wouldn’t you?” his words are warm on your skin. “you love being here like this, at my mercy for me to do whatever i want to you.”

“lix,” you whine, the need to have him as close as possible to you stronger than it ever has been. he crawls off of you, leaving you defeated on the mattress, another whine bubbling up in your throat until you feel something soft and wet stripe across your inner thigh.

his tongue. 

he presses feather light kisses to your thighs, further and further up until he reaches your pussy and his hands come into play to spread your folds apart to make room. he dives in hungrily, just an ounce of your desperation showing in him as he laps at you with urgency. it’s a sharp contrast between the gentleness he had been touching you with earlier, and you can’t stop your hips from bucking up into his face. 

“felix - lix-” you stutter out, head whipping to the side to try and hide your face. your head hits nothing, the pillow you thought was there was out of sight, literally, and a tear escapes your eye and seeps into the blindfold. you’re so overwhelmed.

“what baby?” the deepness of his voice radiates against your skin, you swear you can feel it against your clit and your entire body squirms. you need him inside of you, now, you can’t take it anymore.

“please lix,” desperation lines your words. “want your cock.”

“my baby is so polite,” he coos at you, tracing his fingers up your inner thigh towards your pussy. sensitive. “saying please while she’s asking for cock.”

you might have been embarrassed about the sound you let out any other day, but right now all you could think about was how badly you wanted him.

“okay, sweetheart,” he relents, pulling his fingers back. “do you want my cock in your mouth or in your cunt?” 

“cunt, please,” it was almost an impossible choice, but with the way your walls were clenching in on nothing you didn’t think you could survive without something inside of you. 

he enters you slowly, letting you feel every inch of his cock dragging against your walls until he’s bottomed out. he didn’t prep you, but with the way your spit-mixed slick is dripping into the bedsheets the glide is perfect. he cradles your face as he moves, pressing kisses to your forehead to soothe you, his hair tickling the sides of your face. you feel so strung out even though you haven’t come yet, like you’ve been running a marathon non-stop with no end in sight. 

“you feel so good, so tight,” felix groans, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, drawing a choked gasp from you. “i wish you could see yourself, god, you look divine.”

“ngh,” is all you can let out as he starts fucking into you, holding you as close as possible to him as he rocks the two of you back and forth. the headboard hits the wall in time with your heart, the sounds invading all of your senses along with the drag of his cock inside of you.

his hands flutter from squeezing at your sides to your tits, tickling at your skin as they travel up and down, up and down. you can feel the drool pooling up in your open mouth, aborted sounds leaving your throat as he hits the same spot inside of you that sends rumbles up your entire spine, over and over and over. one of his hands tangles into your hair, right above where the blindfold was tied, and the other sneaks past your lower belly towards your swollen clit. he swipes his tongue through it and you jerk under him; he shushes you, not pausing his evened thrusts for a single moment. 

“come for me,” he says, ripping off the blindfold, and even with the darkness in the room you come with sparks flying through your eyes as your vision returns, his eyes flooding your sight as he looks into yours. he kisses you, holding your head close as he buries himself deep inside of you, emptying into you with a groan against your lips. you close your eyes, bursts of color dancing behind your lids. 

he slumps into you, both of you breathing hard as you come down. he strokes the side of your face, brushing away the hair that had sweat-matted against your temples from the blindfold. 

“was that okay?” he asks, the timidnes returning from days before, the thing he didn’t let you see when he was taking care of you. 

“god, felix,” you sigh, turning your body a bit so that you were laying side by side, facing each other. “that was amazing. i didn’t know i would like it that much. it was so overwhelming, but in a good way, you know?”

“yeah,” he smiles at you, warm and gooey and soft around the edges. he pulls you in for another kiss, sweet as candy, just like him.

—

kinktober masterlist

[believemedarlin]

The Perfect Man

Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader (3.9k words) Also available on AO3

Summary:

“You know, if you combined all the men on the team… they’d make the perfect man.”

“What?” Emily sputtered into her wine.

Penelope giggled while JJ looked intrigued

***

A drunken night out with the girls leads to some interesting revelations.

***

“Let’s play Fuck, Marry, Kill.”

A round of groans sounded from the table, but Penelope Garcia was not to be dissuaded. 

“Come on, ladies. It’ll be fun!”

Her best puppy dog eyes firmly in place, Penelope implored her friends and coworkers with a practiced look. You were holding strong until she brought out the big guns and pouted at you.

A mere ten seconds later you caved. 

“Okay, fine,” You sighed. “But can we use kick instead of kill? I always hated that option. Why do you have to kill them when kicking would be just as effective in showing your lack of interest? No death required.”

“Ooh, I like that,” Penelope immediately agreed with a nod. “You know I’m a pacifist at heart.”

She turned to the other two women seated at the table, pout back in full force. JJ gave in first, patting Penelope’s hand with an indulgent smile and a nod. 

Seeing that she was outnumbered, Emily shrugged. “Sure. But I’ll need another drink if we’re doing this. I haven’t played this since college.”

“I’ll get us all another round.” Penelope jumped to her feet to join her and they made their way to the bar, weaving through the other patrons.

It was a rare Friday night off and the women of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit had decided to go out for a much-needed night of ladies-only fun and frivolity. They had happily left the guys to sort out their evenings and escaped the second the clock struck five.

They were all a few drinks in at this point, which is most likely the reason Penelope had suggested the game. She always got a bit playful when she drank.

They returned a few minutes later, fresh drinks in hand. 

Once settled, Penelope leaned in, an eager smile on her face. “Okay. Fuck, Marry, Kick. Henry Cavill, Ben Barnes, Zachary Levi. And go!”

Emily took a sip of her drink and wasted no time in voicing her choices, followed by JJ and you. You took turns coming up with more and more outlandish options, and pleasantly spent the next hour drinking and laughing with your friends.

You had just finished giggling over Penelope’s reasoning behind her choosing to kick Willy Wonka and marry Jareth the Goblin King so she could enjoy a night with Conan the Barbarian when Emily leaned in with a smirk.

“I’ve got a good one. Hotch, Morgan, and Reid.”

The table erupted in a chorus of ooohs and laughter. 

JJ bit her lip in thought. “Okay, since we know them personally and I’m a happily taken woman, I’m going to change mine to kiss, because it’s weird to say I want to fuck any of them. So, uh, I’ll go with kiss Morgan, marry Reid, and kick Hotch. But only barely, because I do not want him angry with me.”

“Easy,” Penelope chirped. “Fuck Morgan, marry Morgan, and kick Reid and Hotch.”

You, JJ, and Emily burst into laughter, with JJ swatting Penelope on the arm. “You can’t double up like that!”

“Can too! My game, my rules. Besides, it’s special circumstances with Morgan as an option.”

Emily snorted, then grinned. “Hmm. I think I’d go with fuck Morgan, marry Hotch, and kick Reid.”

All eyes then turned to you as you stared into your drink, taking entirely too long as you overthought the options.

Eventually, Emily cleared her throat and you looked up to see her watching you expectantly.

“What?” You grinned sheepishly with a shrug. “It’s harder than you’d think!”

The ladies teased you good-naturedly until you finally said, “Okay, okay! Um, I think…” 

You blew out a breath in a long sigh. “Fuck Reid, marry Hotch, kick Morgan. No wait… Maybe fuck Hotch, marry Reid?”

Emily and JJ cackled while Penelope put on a fake offended air. “Why you gotta kick my beloved cinnamon hot chocolate Adonis not once, but twice? He’s the perfect man!”

"I mean, a lot of women would think that, yeah, but not me.”

Penelope gasped and pressed her hand to her chest dramatically. “Why, I never.”

You giggled with a shrug. “Sorry?” 

“You’re forgiven.”

“What I want to know,” JJ chimed in with a mischievous grin, “is why you can’t decide between Reid and Hotch on who to marry?”

You buried your face in your hands to hide your blush. “I don’t know! Both seem like solid choices. I think they’d both make good husbands.”

Emily smirked. “Sure it wasn’t because you couldn’t decide which you’d rather fuck?”

Penelope and JJ burst into laughter again while you groaned into your hands.

“You all are menaces. I don’t know why I spend time with you.”

“Because we’re wonderful people and you love us.”  Penelope teased.

“That’s debatable.” You mumbled.

“Oh, come on,” she leaned into your side and laid her head on your shoulder. “You know you adore us.” Penelope batted her eyes and you couldn’t help but grin.

“Yeah, I do.”

She cheered and called for another round of drinks.

The game wound down and devolved into a rather extensive list of men and women that each of the ladies wouldn’t mind enjoying some personal one-on-one time with.

You had been sitting in a comfortable silence for the past few minutes, chin in hand and elbow on the table, your mind pondering on something Penelope had said earlier. Your voice took on a contemplative tone as you mused aloud, “You know, if you combined all the men on the team… they’d make the perfect man.”

“What?” Emily sputtered into her wine.

Penelope giggled while JJ looked intrigued.

“Okay, just hear me out. Now, granted, everyone’s idea of the perfect man is different but for me… If we go by physical attributes first, you have to admit that each guy is objectively attractive on their own. I mean seriously, was it a prerequisite that everyone has to be outrageously good-looking to be a member of the team?”

The ladies heartily agreed with laughter and nods, but you gestured across the table to them. “I’m including you three in this too. Have you looked at yourselves? You’re all absolutely gorgeous.”

“Damn right, we are,” Emily exclaimed as she high-fived JJ.

You raised your glass to her and took a sip before expanding on your premise. “So by themselves, each man is handsome but combined…”

You tilt your head in thought. “For me, it would be Reid’s hair. I’ve always liked longer hair on a guy and have you seen those curls when he lets it grow out? And then add in Hotch and Rossi’s dark hair and … yeah. Next would be Morgan and Rossi’s facial hair. I don’t know about you ladies but I like a man with a bit of scruff, you know what I mean? Goatee or full beard or just a couple of days growth, hell even a good five o’clock shadow, as long as it’s maintained and not all scraggly, I like it. Oooh, remember when Hotch came back with a beard?

“Yeah,” you sighed, a bit more dreamily than you had intended, surely caused by the late hour and not the memory of a casually dressed, bearded Hotch. “Like that.”

All three ladies shared a knowing look, but you paid them no mind. 

“Though there is something to be said about a freshly shaved face. It’s so soft…” You sighed again.

“And then there’s height.” You knew you were rambling, but with the alcohol fueling you, there was little chance of stopping you now. “They’re all at least 6 foot so the height difference is perfect for both cuddles and forehead kisses.”

At this, Emily snorted. “Forehead kisses?”

“Yes,” you snipped primly. “They are the pinnacle of non-lip-to-lip kisses and they are my favorite thing. They just make you feel so adored. Now shush.”

You shooed her and rested your chin back in your hand. “Let’s see… Eyes. Honestly, I think they all have lovely eyes. I’m not picky on eye color really but I think Hotch’s stand out the most to me. I mean, have you seen his eyelashes? It should be criminal for a man to have such beautiful eyelashes.”

Another round of nods and hummed agreements sounded from the table.

“You know,” you continue with barely a pause, “I’ve never been a fan of really buff dudes, which sorry Pen, but that’s kinda why poor Morgan got kicked twice.” You shrugged unapologetically at her. 

“I’ve always preferred lean guys. Not scrawny but not bugling out his shirt, you know? Strong but not shoved in your face. But!” You sit straighter in your chair, index finger raised to emphasize your point. “That’s just looks. Personality-wise, I’m drawn to kindness first and our boys all have that in spades. And they each show it in different ways, but it’s always present.”

You met Penelope’s eyes. “And Morgan’s kindness absolutely overrides his excessive muscle mass. He’s honestly one of the kindest people I know, even if he’d deny it. He’s not humble about a lot of things, but he is about that.”

Your eyes dropped to the table as your finger ran along the wood grain. “I also like intelligence and while yes, first thoughts go to Reid, the others are all brilliant too. Like, Rossi is so wise! It seems like he always knows what’s going on with someone before anyone else, and always seems to know just what to say just when you need to hear it. And they each have strengths that I admire. I genuinely like each of them as a person and I’m proud to know them and am honored they consider me a friend. Honestly, I feel that way about all of you.”

“Aw!” Penelope sniffled. “That’s so sweet. We love you too, you know.”

You gave her hand a quick squeeze and took another sip of your drink. 

“What about lips?”

You blinked at JJ. “Lips? I’m not sure. I don’t know that I look at them much.”

Emily tilted her head. “You seriously don’t look at men’s lips?”

“Not really? I mean, I notice smiles. And honestly, how did I not start with that? It’s usually one of the first things I notice about someone. Smiles make everyone look twice as attractive. Oh, and a sense of humor! Gotta love a man who can make you laugh.”

“This one is definitely Morgan,” Emily chimed in and you nodded in agreement while Penelope raised her glass.

“Absolutely. He always makes me laugh, but so do the others. Rossi is snarky, which I appreciate as a fellow snarker. I can’t tell you the number of times he’s made me hold back a laugh during a round table. Reid can be really funny, too. Especially when we’re making Star Trek or Doctor Who references that no one else gets. Except you, Pen, but you’re usually in your lair. And Hotch—”

“No,” Emily cut in. “No way you think he’s funny. The man barely smiles.”

You tsked and leaned in, your tone turning a bit haughty. “First of all, I think it’s a good thing that he holds those back because have you seen how handsome he is when he smiles? His whole face transforms and he has dimples. Dimples . It’s ridiculous and no one would be able to focus on work if he was blinding us with his smile all the time. And secondly, yes. He’s hilarious, actually. He has a dry sense of humor that gets me every time. And he is so straight-faced about it. I laughed embarrassingly loud once at something he said and I had to leave the room because I couldn’t stop giggling. And the man had the nerve to be smug about it later.”

You shook your head with exasperated fondness, not noticing the raised eyebrows and pointed looks the other ladies were sharing.

“Anyway,” You sighed and leaned back in your chair. “Morgan is my biggest supporter, Reid nerds out with me, Rossi gives the best advice, and Hotch makes me feel safe. All things that would attract me to someone. So, with their powers combined…” You spread your hands in a sweeping motion. “The perfect man.”

“Huh,” Penelope hummed. “You know, I kinda see it.”

“See?” You grinned triumphantly. “We really do work with amazing guys.”

A cry of ‘hear, hear’ sounded around the table and the four of you leaned in to clink glasses.

Emily settled back in her chair with a smirk, her eyes focused on you. “Okay, you waxed poetic about the guys. Now, what about us?”

You grinned. “You, my darling lady loves, all hold a special place in my heart. There’s no way I could choose. You are each the perfect woman.”

Another cheer went up and everyone downed their drinks, laughing merrily.

The outing wound down about half an hour later. You each stumbled your way outside, Emily and Penelope deciding to share a taxi.

You stood with JJ as you waved the other two goodbye; you waiting for your own taxi and JJ waiting for Will to pick her up.

“You know,” she said conversationally, her eyes on the street. “You mentioned Hotch quite a few times describing your perfect man.”

You blinked. “What? I did not.”

She turned to you with a wide grin. “Oh yes, you did. No denying it now.”

You sputtered, not sure how to reply.

She chuckled and laid a hand on your arm, just as your taxi arrived. “Seems to me like he ticks quite a few of the boxes for your perfect man.” She leaned in to whisper, “So what are you going to do about it?”

JJ winked as she stepped back to open the door of the car that pulled in behind your taxi and slid in. “Just think about it, okay?”

You nodded numbly, mechanically climbing into the back seat of the taxi while Will and JJ patiently waited to make sure you were safely on your way.

You mumbled out your address and barely noticed the drive home, arriving much sooner than expected, as your mind was focused on JJ’s words.

You shook your head as you entered your apartment, determined to think no more of it. It was just a silly statement born out of one too many drinks.

There was no way you thought of Hotch that way.

No way at all.

***

The rest of the weekend was miraculously quiet and work-free. You couldn’t remember the last time you had so much time to yourself, so you took full advantage of it.

As days off always tended to do, they flew by too quickly and Monday morning arrived before you were ready for it. You greeted everyone when you entered the department, nodding to Rossi and waving at Morgan and Penelope as you settled in at your desk.

No new case had come in, so today would be an in-office day catching up on paperwork and caseloads.

You were productive throughout the day, completing most of the pending work assigned to you, and you were feeling quite accomplished with the diminishing stack in your inbox.

Only a few minutes remained in the workday when you stood from your chair, stretching your stiff back, and made your way up the stairs to Hotch’s office to drop off an armful of completed reports.

You knocked on his door, only having to wait a second before he bid you enter.

He was focused on the open file in front of him and he didn’t look up until you spoke. “These are ready for you to review, Hotch.”

His eyes shot up to meet yours before dropping to the folders in your arms. He gestured to the corner of his desk nearest you and went back to scribbling notes on the report. “You can just leave them there, thank you.”

You set them down next to another stack and grimaced. There were multiple bundles of files littering his desk. While in-office days were great for clearing your desk of work, it unfortunately always added to Hotch’s workload.

“Looks like everyone had similar offerings for you today. Will you be able to leave at a reasonable hour tonight? I’d be happy to help with anything if you need it.”

Hotch finished the line he was writing and looked up at you through his long lashes, a small, shy kind of smile curving his lips. His cheeks were just a touch pinker than usual and you blinked because you’ve never seen that look on his face before.

He looked almost bashful, a word you would never have associated with Aaron Hotchner.

But damn, was it a good look on him. He really was a handsome man, wasn’t he? Kind, funny, successful, and a great father. He was practically the perfect man.

You froze and blinked again at the realization.

“Oh, uh,” his deep voice broke you from your thoughts. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got it covered. I shouldn’t be here too much longer.”

“Right, of course.” You nodded and prayed he couldn’t see the blush you knew was rapidly spreading across your face. “Well, good night, sir.” 

You spun on your heel and opened the door, ready to flee as fast as your feet could carry you.

His low, murmured good night followed you out the door and you nearly shivered because holy hell, even his voice was attractive.

You quickly grabbed your things and nearly sprinted to the elevators, not wanting to stay one second longer around skilled profilers who could read you so easily, knowing they would spot your flushed cheeks instantly and want to know what caused them. Or worse, they’d already know, and that was not something you were ready to discuss with any of them at the moment.

You had fully intended on ignoring JJ’s words from Friday night, but after your reaction just now, you knew she was right.

Hotch was pretty damn close to fitting the idea of your perfect man.

Or maybe, the idea of your perfect man came from Hotch.

You sighed as you entered the thankfully empty elevator, finally admitting to yourself the truth that had been staring you in the face for longer than you’d ever care to admit.

You had it bad for Aaron Hotchner.

Oh, you were in so much trouble.

***

Aaron watched as you left his office, your face a delightful shade of pink.

His eyes followed as you rushed to your desk, snatched up your things, and darted out the door.

He hadn’t meant to overhear Prentiss and Garcia’s conversation that morning as they reminisced over their night out last Friday. He certainly hadn’t meant to linger when they mentioned you and your adorable—according to Garcia—rant about the perfect man. And he most certainly hadn’t meant to lean in rather eagerly when they whispered about just how many times his name had come up as an example during said rant.

He had been pleasantly surprised and somewhat stunned by the information. He’d never thought of himself as an ideal for the perfect man. 

Sure, he supposed he had a few attributes that some women might find appealing. He had a successful career and tried to keep in shape, though that was more for his job than vanity.

But he never imagined that anyone would look at him and think that he was a paradigm of their perfect man. Least of all you.

You were a brilliant profiler, exceptional in the field and able to hold your own in a fight when needed, but you were also caring with the victims and their families. You were witty and kind and easygoing. You were someone who smiled freely and laughed readily and did your best to cheer and encourage the team on tough cases.

Not someone who would think of stoic, hardass Aaron Hotchner as the perfect man.

Still, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from drifting to the window of his office throughout the day, seeking you out.

He thought back to when you joined the BAU and how quickly you became not only an essential part of the team but a much-welcomed member of their little family. Everyone adored you and Aaron himself had to admit that you had wormed your way into his heart.

He loved the time he got to spend with you when the team got together to unwind after a case and the little moments of levity you all shared in between working. He recalled the times he managed to make you laugh and the occasions where he found himself chuckling as well. You were easy to talk to and more often than not, the two of you fell into conversation whenever everyone else was either asleep or preferred to be left alone on the jet going to and from cases.

He genuinely enjoyed your company and found himself wishing he could enjoy it more often.

His eyes wandered to the bullpen again, zeroing in on you almost immediately. Prentiss and Morgan were standing by your desk when one of them said something that made you laugh.

Your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth opened to release an enchanting sound of delight. Aaron couldn’t look away and had to admit that you really were quite lovely. Inside and out.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat looking at you but knew it was longer than appropriate. He shook his head and forced himself to focus back on his work.

He managed to shove all thoughts of you from his mind for the remainder of the day until a soft knock sounded on his door late in the afternoon.

He didn’t bother to look up from the report he was notating after giving a gruff come in until he heard your voice.

Aaron couldn’t keep his eyes from darting up to meet yours before dropping them to the large stack of files in your arms.

He gestured for you to place them on the corner of his desk next to the ones Reid had deposited earlier and thought that would be his singular interaction with you for the day.

But then your caring side came out again and you sweetly offered to help him, a proposition that both filled him with fondness and nervousness.

After all his wayward thoughts about you throughout the day, he wasn’t sure if being in close proximity with you was a good idea or not. 

Aaron looked up at you again, the late afternoon sun enveloping you, enhancing your features, and his only thought was that he’d been wrong earlier. 

You weren’t just lovely. You were stunning.

In that moment, he was completely captivated by you and his thoughts ran rampant as he cataloged every minute detail of you. Your beauty, your kindness, your brilliance, and all the little things that made you you . Everything that endeared you to him.

But his thoughts came to a crashing halt when he realized that he was staring at you. He felt his face flush and he stammered as he gently declined your help.

You bid him a good night, but Aaron couldn’t take his eyes off the spreading blush on your cheeks. It kept his attention until you were out of sight.

He blinked and dropped his eyes back to the forgotten report in front of him, a slow smile creeping across his face.

He may not have meant to overhear the conversation that caused him to think about you all day, but he was starting to be glad he had. It seemed it was all he needed to face a few truths he had been in denial about for a long while now.

He was completely and utterly smitten with you.

Now, he just had to decide what to do about it. 

Aaron sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Oh, he was in so much trouble.

[harunayuuka2060]

WHB Series #1 (Cont.)

MC: ...

Michael: *offers them a bouquet of flowers, smiling at them charmingly*

Michael: Good morning.

MC: ...

MC: I couldn’t see a shit. *from their perspective, Michael’s face is shining so brightly that they can’t make out his features*

MC: ...

MC: Raphael, Gabriel, how did this one manage to slip by you both?

Michael: It’s nothing special. I’m just stronger than the two of them combined.

Gabriel: What did you say?

Raphael: Are you saying you're superior to us?

MC: Hmm, I can’t argue with his point. They should be on equal footing when it comes to their abilities and still present a challenge to one another. If he was able to slip by without them noticing, then it means...

MC: ...

MC: That's enough. You both were tired last night, so it's understandable that you're not at your best this morning.

Michael: ...

Gabriel and Raphael: ...

Gabriel: But god... I don't think that reason is enough for us to be excused...

Raphael: Spending time with god should not be a reason for us to let our guard down.

MC: *smiles* How adorable.

Michael: ...

MC: Should I just send you back?

Beelzebub: *who could actually have stopped Michael from entering their chamber*

Beelzebub: He brought you flowers~.

MC: Tch.

Beelzebub: *chuckles* You know I'm a romantic person.

Beelzebub: He's being sincere, so I let him be.

MC: You're fascinated by his sincere obsession, eh?

Beelzebub: It won't be bad to entertain him once in a while. You can consider this as an exposure therapy.

MC: *unamused*

Michael: The descendant of Solomon is not a sinful human and has steered clear of the sinful pleasures of this world.

Michael: I know they can't possibly be involved romantically or sexually with Raphael and Gabriel, yet I still feel an overwhelming sense of jealousy.

Michael: I want them to be mine...

Michael: *imagines himself in their arms and speaks lovingly to them*

Michael: *finds pleasure in the idea, which is evident in his expression*

Beelzebub: Are not going to eat?

MC: *feels sick* I want to throw up.

Beelzebub: Oh, dear. Is it your allergy?

Beelzebub: Just think of beautiful thoughts. Ah, like when I swallowed your fledgling.

MC: *glares at him*

Beelzebub: *laughs* It worked!

Leviathan: ...

Foras: *has reported to him that Michael is having fantasies about MC*

Foras: He was so engrossed in his own activity that he didn't notice anything unusual about his surroundings.

Leviathan: ...

Leviathan: And what does Beelzebub think of this?

Foras: He finds this situation amusing, Your Majesty.

Leviathan: ...

Leviathan: Send a message to the descendant of Solomon, informing them that I will be paying a visit.

Foras: Yes, Your Majesty Leviathan.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 All Wrapped Up

All Wrapped Up: When your date with Morpheus is cut short, you are left with his coat and your own thoughts… and a bleeding finger from where said coat bit you. You find out that Morpheus’ coat is very much alive as the rest of the realm.

Warnings: Morpheus’ Coat Fucks You (this is your only warning on how nasty this is), Explicit Language, Explicit Material.

To Note: AFAB!Reader x Morpheus’ Coat

Word Count: ~6.4k

You stroll through the shifting landscapes of the Dreaming, your boyfriend Morpheus by your side. The sky above you morphs from a star-studded abyss to a canvas of swirling pastels, the colors melting into each other like ice cream on a hot day. A soft breeze carries the scent of blooming nightshade and distant rain. Yet another perfect night to spend with your handsome and beautiful boyfriend.

"You know," you say, glancing at him, "this place could use more flowers."

Morpheus' lips twitch into a barely-there smile. "Flowers? Are there not flowers throughout my realm? What more do you wish for?"

"Gilbert is currently hoarding all the best ones" you huff out in half complaint. "I'm talking about everywhere else in the realm. The places that don't have his super awesomeness."

"And what do you propose I should add?" Morpheus asks, tilting his head to the side.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe some unique roses? Lilacs? Orchids even," you gesture vaguely, enjoying the way his eyes—currently a serene blue—catch the light. They glimmer so prettily with stars. "Fun and unique flowers that you would never see together. Tulips, birds of paradise, hydrangea…"

"Fun and unique flowers, you say?" Morpheus muses, his voice like a gentle hum in the background of a dream. He lifts a hand, and with a flick of his wrist, the ground around you begins to shift. Suddenly, the once bare earth is alive with a riot of colors. Roses in every hue imaginable bloom alongside lilacs, their delicate petals brushing against the striking shapes of orchids.

The air thickens with their fragrance, a heady blend that fills your senses and makes you feel dizzy with delight. You laugh, spinning around to take it all in. "See? This is what I'm talking about."

"Indeed," Morpheus replies, a trace of amusement in his voice. "Anything else you desire?"

Before you can respond, a loud caw breaks through the tranquility. You glance up to see Matthew the Raven circling overhead. "You two look like you're picking out wedding flowers," he comments, swooping down to land on Morpheus' shoulder.

"Do you have something to add, Matthew?" Morpheus asks, one eyebrow arched.

"Just that maybe you should throw in some dandelions," Matthew says, ruffling his feathers. "You know, for variety."

You chuckle, reaching out to scratch Matthew's head. "Dandelions? Really?"

"Hey, don't knock 'em till you've tried 'em," Matthew quips.

Morpheus waves his hand again and suddenly dandelions sprout amidst the more exotic blooms. Their cheerful yellow heads bob in the soft breeze, adding an unexpected touch of whimsy to the scene.

"I have to admit," you say, bending down to pluck one from the ground. "It does add something special."

The Dreaming reacts to every movement and word from Morpheus. The sky darkens slightly as if acknowledging his focus on this moment with you. The colors become more vivid, each petal and leaf shimmering as though made of dreams themselves.

You catch a hint of ozone in the air—like just before a thunderstorm—and it makes your skin tingle with anticipation. It's as if every sense is heightened here: the sound of distant waves crashing against unseen shores; the feeling of soft grass beneath your feet; the sight of flowers blooming in impossible combinations.

Morpheus watches you with those enigmatic eyes that seem to hold entire galaxies within them. "Anything else?" he asks softly.

"Hmm," you ponder aloud. "How about some bioluminescent fungi? Something that glows when it gets dark. Can't go wrong with a good mushroom."

Matthew caws approvingly. "Now that's an idea! Glowing mushrooms could make this place even more magical."

With another wave of Morpheus' hand, glowing fungi begin to appear among the flowers. They emit a soft light that bathes everything in an ethereal glow as twilight descends over the realm.

Morpheus pulls you closer, your body fitting perfectly against his chest. The feeling is almost overwhelming—his coat is soft and warm, like the comforting embrace of a dream you never want to wake from. You really didn't. His fingers trail down your back, sending pleasurable sensations up your spine.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" His voice is a low murmur in your ear, each word vibrating through you like the distant rumble of thunder.

You nod, drawing your fingers down the lapel of his coat. The fabric feels like velvet under your touch, and the galaxy within it seems to pulse with light and energy. There is even a humming vibration beneath your fingertips that almost echo the coats appreciation of your touch.

"Morpheus," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper.

Matthew flaps his wings in agitation from his perch on Morpheus' shoulder. "Come on, guys. Do we have to do this right here?"

Ignoring Matthew's protest, you let your fingers wander further down Morpheus' coat. Each touch ignites a spark of passion that crackles between you both. His grip on you tightens slightly, as if he can't bear to let you go.

"If he does not wish to witness me kissing my beloved," Morpheus says, his eyes darkening with intensity as they lock onto yours, "Matthew is welcome to leave."

The raven lets out an indignant squawk but takes flight, disappearing into the shifting sky of the Dreaming.

He lowers his head slowly, giving you just enough time to close your eyes before his lips meet yours. The kiss is gentle at first, a mere brush of lips that sends a rush of warmth through you. But then it deepens, becoming more insistent as he pours all his longing and desire into that single point of contact.

The sounds around you seem to amplify—the rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant roll of thunder, even the faint hum of bioluminescent fungi glowing softly in the growing twilight. It's as if every element in the Dreaming is attuned to this moment, enhancing every sensation.

Your hand slides up into his hair, feeling its softness between your fingers. You press yourself closer against him until there's no space left between you. His arms wrap around you tighter still as if he could pull you into himself completely.

As you lose yourself in the kiss, your hand continues its journey down Morpheus' coat, the fabric smooth and cool against your fingertips. You can feel the coat almost react to your touch, a subtle vibration that seems to echo Morpheus' own desires.

Your fingers brush against the edge of one of his coat pockets, and without thinking, you slip your hand inside. The interior is surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the outer fabric. But then, something sharp bites into your finger. You pull back abruptly, breaking the kiss with a gasp.

Morpheus' eyes snap open, darkening from their serene blue to a concerned silver. "What is wrong?" His voice is soft but filled with an urgency that sends a shiver down your spine.

You blink in confusion, glancing down at your finger. A drop of blood wells up from a tiny puncture wound, bright red against your pale skin. "I... I think something bit me," you stammer.

Morpheus frowns deeply. He takes your hand gently in his own, lifting it to inspect the wound. His eyes narrow slightly as he studies the small drop of blood. Without warning, he brings your finger up to his lips and slides it into his mouth.

The sensation is electric. His lips are warm and soft against your skin, his tongue soothing as it laps at the wound. You shiver as Morpheus' tongue glides over your finger, each lap sending a tingling sensation straight to your core. The warmth of his lips contrasts sharply with the cool evening air, creating an intoxicating mix of sensations that makes it hard to focus. His eyes, now a deep, mesmerizing silver, lock onto yours, and you feel the world around you blur into insignificance.

The faint taste of iron lingers as he continues to lick the small wound, his movements slow and deliberate. It's almost as if he's savoring every drop of your blood. You can hear the soft sound of his tongue against your skin, a rhythmic, almost hypnotic noise that seems to echo in the stillness of the Dreaming.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally releases your finger. The wound is gone, not even a scar remaining. You flex your hand experimentally, marveling at the seamless healing.

"That was... weird," you murmur, pulling your hand back.

Morpheus' lips curve into a slight smile. "My apologies if it caused you discomfort."

You shake your head, brushing it off. "No, it's fine. Just unexpected."

He straightens, his expression shifting from concern to something more reserved. "I must return to my duties," he says softly.

Your heart sinks at his words. The thought of him leaving, even for a short while, fills you with a sense of loss. "Already?" you pout, unable to hide your disappointment.

Morpheus chuckles, a sound like distant thunder rolling through the night sky. He reaches up and slips off his coat, the fabric whispering against itself as it moves. The galaxy within it seems to pulse with life as he drapes it around your shoulders.

The coat envelops you in warmth and comfort; it’s like being wrapped in the night sky itself. Well, you are wrapped up in a galaxy.

"Wear this," Morpheus murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "So I will be with you until I physically return."

You snuggle into the coat's embrace, feeling its gentle hum against your skin—a soft vibration that echoes Morpheus' own being. The fabric is impossibly soft, caressing your body like he truly is wrapped around you.

He cups your cheek with one hand, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "I will not be long," he promises.

You watch as Morpheus disappears into the ever-shifting landscape of the Dreaming, his silhouette blending seamlessly with the twilight. The weight of his coat around your shoulders is comforting, like an embrace that lingers long after the person has left. With a deep breath, you turn and begin to make your way back to the palace.

The path ahead winds through a forest of bioluminescent trees. Their leaves emit a soft, otherworldly glow that illuminates your way. The air is filled with the faint rustling of leaves and the occasional distant call of nocturnal creatures. As you walk, the sound of your footsteps mingles with these ambient noises, creating a symphony that feels uniquely alive.

The palace looms ahead, its grand spires reaching up to touch the star-studded sky. The entrance is guarded by three majestic creatures—a Gryphon, a Wyvern, and a Hippogryph—each one regal and imposing in its own right. They nod at you as you pass through the gates, acknowledging your presence with silent respect.

Inside, the palace is a labyrinth of corridors and rooms, each one more fascinating than the last. You wander aimlessly, letting your feet guide you. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries that seem to move and change as you look at them, depicting scenes from countless dreams and nightmares. It was hard to be bored in the dreaming, but you really just wanted to spend time with your boyfriend!

You make your way through the winding corridors of the palace, each step echoing softly against the marble floors. The air is cool, almost refreshing, carrying with it the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine. The palace itself seems to breathe around you, walls shifting subtly as if alive.

Finally, you arrive at Morpheus' private chamber. The door creaks open with a whisper, revealing a room that feels both infinite and intimate. Soft starlight filters in from the high windows, casting gentle shadows across the floor.

Stars float lazily in the air, tiny orbs of light that shimmer and pulse as if they hold entire galaxies within them. You reach out to touch one, and it flutters away like a shy firefly before coming back to hover just above your fingertips. Its light is warm against your skin, sending tingles up your arm.

You wander around the room, brushing your fingers against the floating stars. Each one responds to your touch with a soft hum, a melody that seems to vibrate through your very being. It's like touching pieces of Morpheus himself—fragments of his essence scattered throughout his sanctuary.

As you explore, your gaze drifts down to the coat pocket where something had bitten you earlier. The memory of that sharp pinch makes you pause. Curiosity gnaws at you as you slip your hand back into the pocket cautiously this time, but all you feel is the warm, velvety lining.

"At least I have you to cuddle with," you murmur to yourself, a small smile playing on your lips. "Morpheus' coat is better than no Morpheus at all."

A warmth spreads through your body and you snuggle your face into the neckline of the material, enjoying the way the galaxy feels against your skin. You make your way over to Morpheus' bed and climb onto it, sighing as your hands and knees sink into the cloud like mattress.

The scent of Morpheus lingers on the sheets—a mix of stardust and midnight air that fills your senses and makes you feel even closer to him. You curl up in his coat, pulling it tightly around yourself as you nestle into the soft bedding. A nap would do nicely until Morpheus returns.

You wake with a start, the sensation of fabric skimming across your skin pulling you from the depths of sleep. Your eyes flutter open, and you find yourself staring up at the shifting, pulsating galaxy that adorns Morpheus' coat. It's draped over you like a protective cocoon, its warmth seeping into your very bones. But something is different this time.

The coat is moving, its fabric undulating with a life of its own. You gasp as it begins to slip beneath your clothing, the smooth, velvety material gliding effortlessly over your skin. The sensation is both startling and arousing, each touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

Your shirt is the first to go, the coat's sleeves tugging at the hem until it's lifted over your head and discarded. You try to sit up, to grasp at the fabric and halt its progress, but it's as if the coat anticipates your every move. It wraps around your arms, pinning them to your sides with a gentle but unyielding pressure.

"Hey!" you protest, a mixture of amusement and alarm in your voice. "What do you think you're doing?"

The coat doesn't answer, of course. Instead, it continues its slow, sensual exploration of your body. You can feel it tracing the contours of your chest, the touch as intimate as a lover's caress. The fabric seems to have grown impossibly softer, its movements deliberate and teasing.

Your breath hitches as it trails lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. The sensation is maddeningly erotic, a blend of ticklish delight and mounting desire. You squirm, trying to escape the coat's insistent advance, but it only tightens its grip on your legs, preventing any chance of retreat.

"First you bite me, and now you want me naked?" you murmur, the words coming out in a breathless whisper. The coat, of course, offers no response, save for the continued slide of fabric against your skin. "I don't think so!"

You thrash against the coat's hold, your heart pounding as the fabric tightens around you, holding you fast. It's an odd sensation, the feeling of being trapped yet cared for, dominated yet cherished. Despite your initial protests, there's a part of you that's intrigued, a small voice whispering that you should surrender to the coat's desires.

With surprising gentleness, the coat lifts you off the bed, suspending you in midair. You're aware of the cool air against your skin, the vulnerability of being so exposed. The coat's grip on you shifts, and you feel it deftly unhooking your bra. The fabric slides away, leaving your chest bare to the night air and the coat's lingering touch.

Your breath catches as you feel the coat's fabric against your nipples. It's a strange, intoxicating sensation that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. The coat caresses your breasts with an almost reverent touch, the fabric stroking and fondling with a lover's skill. You can't help the soft moan that escapes your lips, the sound echoing through the silent room.

The coat's attentions shift lower, and you feel it tugging at your pants. You're powerless to resist as the fabric peels away, leaving you clad in nothing but your underwear. The cool air teases your newly bared skin, and you can feel your arousal growing with each passing second.

As the coat continues to caress your breasts, you can't help but think that it's savoring this moment, relishing the feel of your soft, yielding flesh beneath its touch. The fabric moves with purpose, each stroke and caress sending shivers of pleasure up your spine.

Then, without warning, the coat vibrates against your skin, a subtle but unmistakable affirmation. It's almost as if it's communicating with you, confirming your suspicion that it wants—needs—this connection just as much as you do.

The vibrations are maddening, a constant, thrumming reminder of the coat's desire. You can feel it resonate deep within you, stoking the flames of your arousal even higher. The sound of your own breathing fills the room—harsh, ragged gasps that mirror the intensity of the sensations coursing through you.

Your body responds to the coat's ministrations with an urgency that's both startling and undeniable. You can feel yourself growing wetter, your underwear clinging to your damp skin. The coat's fabric teases your sensitive nipples, each brush sending jolts of pleasure straight to your cunt.

You're lost in a sea of sensation, your body moving instinctively to meet the coat's touch. The fabric strokes and fondles your breasts, the movements deliberate and maddeningly skillful. You can feel your arousal building, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

The coat's vibrations grow stronger, more insistent, as if it can sense how close you are to the edge. The sensation is overwhelming, a constant thrum of pleasure that leaves you gasping for breath. You're aware of the wetness between your legs, the slick, aching need that demands fulfillment.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, the coat's touch becomes impossibly gentle, a soft caress that brings you back from the brink. You're left hovering on the edge of climax, your body trembling with need as the coat holds you suspended in midair, caught between ecstasy and anticipation.

"Oh come on," you whine, tugging on the fabric holding your wrists. "Don't tell me you're gonna tease me too! Morpheus is already a bastard when it comes to teasing, I don't need both of you being mean to me!"

In response to your plea, the coat seems to hesitate for a moment, as if considering your words. Then, with a newfound determination, it resumes its careful exploration of your body. You feel the fabric gliding over your hips, dipping into the crease where your thighs meet your body, and then it's slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. The sensation of the fabric against your most intimate area is surprisingly erotic, and you can't help but moan as it begins to move with purpose.

The coat tugs gently at your underwear, peeling it away from your damp skin. You feel a rush of cool air against your wetness, a stark contrast to the warmth of the coat's embrace. The fabric slides down your legs, leaving you completely naked and exposed in the coat's grasp.

You're lifted higher, your body suspended in midair as the coat positions you for its next tantalizing move. The sensation of weightlessness adds to the surrealism of the moment, amplifying the erotic sensations that course through you.

Then, without warning, the coat begins to rub between your legs, the fabric soft and insistent against your sensitive flesh. You gasp as it finds your clit, the rhythmic motion sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. The vibrations grow stronger, the coat's purring growing louder as it busies itself with your wetness.

The sound of your arousal fills the room, a slick, wet noise that mingles with the coat's purring. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric as it moves against your skin, the subtle whisper of the galaxy that forms the coat's lining. It's a symphony of sensations, a cacophony of sound that threatens to overwhelm your senses.

The coat's movements grow more insistent, the fabric rubbing against your clit with a maddening rhythm that leaves you gasping for breath. You can feel the orgasm building within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

Your body responds instinctively to the coat's touch, your hips moving in time with its rhythmic motions. The sensation of the fabric against your most sensitive area is exquisite, a blend of friction and warmth that sends shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

The coat's purring grows even louder, a constant thrum of pleasure that resonates deep within your core. You can feel your arousal growing with each passing second, your body tensing as the orgasm draws nearer.

And then, just when you think you can't take any more, the coat's touch changes. The fabric between your legs begins to pulse, the rhythm matching the beating of your heart. It's as if the coat knows exactly what you need, exactly how to push you over the edge.

The sensory overload is too much to bear. Your body tenses, and then you're falling, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of overwhelming pleasure. Your cries echo through the room, a testament to the ecstasy that courses through your veins.

As the waves of your climax wash over you, your body convulses with the intensity of the sensations. Your legs are thrashing, feet twisting in the air as they seek purchase on something—anything—to ground you in this moment of pure ecstasy. Your arms pull against the coat's embrace, the fabric tightening around your wrists in response to your struggles, holding you fast as it continues to lavish attention upon your trembling form.

The coat, sentient and eager, is greedily drinking up your release, its fabric writhing and pulsing against your most intimate areas. Each spasm of your cunt sends shockwaves of pleasure through you, and the coat seems to absorb every tremor, its vibrations harmonizing with the rhythm of your orgasm.

You're acutely aware of the erotic sensory details—the wet, slick sound of the coat moving against your drenched folds, the way your breath hitches with each wave of pleasure that crashes over you, the feeling of the cool air against your heated skin. The coat's fabric is like a thousand tiny fingers, each one caressing and teasing and coaxing you towards greater heights of pleasure.

The erotic sounds that fill the room are almost as stimulating as the physical sensations. The wet squelch of the coat's ministrations, the ragged panting of your breaths, the soft whimpers and moans that escape your lips—all of it combines to create a symphony of desire that resonates with the pulsing of your blood.

"Oh god," you strain out, your body falling slack. That was an incredibly explosive orgasm. All from the coat. The coat, however, seems far from finished.

Its fabric begins to move again, slithering down your stomach in a series of slow, deliberate waves. You can't help but squirm as it traces teasing patterns on your skin, each touch sending little shivers of sensation coursing through you. The coat purrs in response.

You can feel it trailing along the insides of your legs, a soft, ticklish touch that leaves you gasping for breath once more. The coat's purring grows louder, a constant thrum of pleasure that seems to echo your own rapidly beating heart. Always thirsty it seems.

As your breathing begins to steady, the coat's fabric continues its unhurried exploration of your body. It caresses your thighs, your stomach, the soft swell of your breasts. Each touch sends ripples of pleasure coursing through you, a reminder that the coat is far from done with you.

You feel the fabric shift, a subtle movement that draws your attention back to the apex of your thighs. The coat's touch is gentle yet insistent, its fabric teasing your sensitive folds with feather-light strokes. You can't help but moan, your body responding instinctively to the promise of more pleasure to come.

But then the fabric between your legs begins to change, to grow and harden into something entirely different. You gasp as you feel the unmistakable shape of a phallus emerging from the coat's inner lining, its size and girth enough to make you catch your breath.

"Wait," you protest, your voice barely above a whisper. "That place is for Morpheus."

The coat seems to hesitate for a moment, its fabric pulsing against your skin. And then, with a sense of inevitability, the phallus continues to grow, its length pressing against your entrance with an insistence that leaves you both exasperated and intrigued.

"You've got to be kidding me," you mutter, a flush creeping up your cheeks. "First you strip me, then you make me come, and now you want to fuck me? You're a coat, for crying out loud!"

In response, the coat vibrates, a low, rumbling purr that vibrates all the way through your cunt. It's almost as if it's chuckling at your incredulity, its fabric shifting against your skin with a maddeningly sensual rhythm.

The phallus nudges at your opening, the blunt tip slick with your own arousal. You can feel it teasing you, pressing just slightly into your warmth before withdrawing once more. The sensation is both startling and arousing, a tantalizing promise of what's to come.

You're aware of the erotic sounds that fill the room—the wet, slick noise of the coat's phallus moving against your drenched folds, the soft, needy whimpers that escape your lips with each teasing stroke. You hate how delicious the sounds are. The coat purrs in response, the vibrations adding another layer of pleasure to the sensory overload.

The phallus nudges at your entrance once more, and this time, it doesn't withdraw. You feel yourself stretching to accommodate its girth, your body yielding to the coat's insistent advance. The sensation is intense, a mix of pleasure and a slight sting that leaves you gasping for breath.

"Oh," you gasp out, your hips twitching and your pelvis muscles twitching from the stretch.

As the coat's phallus begins its slow, inexorable push into your body, you can't help but gasp at the sensation. It's thick and warm, a solid presence that fills you in a way you've never experienced before. Almost tentacle like, worming around against your clenching walls. The fabric of the coat's inner lining is soft against your sensitive skin, a stark contrast to the firmness of the phallus that's currently buried inside you.

You arch your back, a soft moan escaping your lips as the phallus continues its exploration. It seems to be searching for something, its movements deliberate and unhurried. Each slight shift sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, the sensation both startling and intensely arousing.

The erotic sounds of your coupling fills the room once more—the wet, slick noise of the coat's phallus moving inside you, the soft, needy whimpers that escape your lips with each thrust. You can feel the coat purring in response to your sounds of pleasure, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation to the mix.

You're acutely aware of the erotic sensory details—the feeling of the coat's fabric against your skin, the warmth of its body as it holds you close, the scent of your arousal mingling with the musty aroma of the coat's inner lining. It's an intoxicating blend that only serves to heighten your pleasure.

The phallus inside you seems to be growing larger, its girth stretching you in the most delicious way. You can feel it pressing against your vaginal walls, each movement sending ripples of pleasure radiating through your body. The sensation is overwhelming, a constant thrum of pleasure that leaves you gasping for breath.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the rush of blood a rhythmic counterpoint to the thrum of the coat's purring. Each pulse of your heart sends a fresh surge of arousal coursing through your veins, making your skin flush and your breath come in short, sharp gasps. You're so attuned to the sensations that every twitch and shudder reverberates through you, a testament to the coat's mastery over your body.

And then, just when you think you can't possibly get any more aroused, the coat's phallus reaches a depth within you that makes your breath catch in your throat. You feel it probing against your cervix, a gentle nudge that sends a jolt of sensation straight to your core. Your eyes widen, and a startled gasp escapes your lips. "N-no," you stammer, your voice tremulous with a mix of desire and trepidation. "No. That place is for babies, not...not this."

In response, the coat's phallus vibrates, a low, rumbling sensation that reverberates deep within your belly. It's an acknowledgment, a silent affirmation of your boundaries, and the phallus withdraws slightly, avoiding the no-go zone with newfound respect. The change in sensation makes you gasp, and your hips jerk in response, the movement involuntary and desperate.

The vibrations increase in intensity, the coat's phallus humming with a steady rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. You can feel your body clenching around the thick intrusion, your muscles fluttering in time with the coat's purring. Your toes curl, and a series of soft, needy whimpers escape your lips, the erotic sounds mingling with the wet squelch of the coat's ministrations.

As the coat's phallus begins to move within you, your body responds with a rush of moisture, welcoming the thick intrusion with a slick warmth that makes each thrust an exercise in erotic sensation. The fabric inside you is velvety soft, yet unyielding, each stroke a delicious friction that stokes the fires of your arousal. The coat's movements are deliberate and measured, a slow, steady fucking that leaves you gasping for breath as it claims your body as its own.

The slithering galaxy that lines the coat's interior wraps gently around your throat, the cool fabric a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. It tightens slowly, a sexual choking that sends a thrill of fear and arousal coursing through you. Your eyes widen, and a gasp is torn from your lips as the fabric restricts your airway just enough to heighten your senses without causing harm. The loss of control, the helplessness of your position, only serves to intensify the pleasure that's building within you.

Your body clenches around the coat's phallus, your inner walls fluttering in time with the rhythmic tightening of the fabric around your throat. The dual sensations are overwhelming, a blend of pleasure and pain that leaves you writhing in the coat's embrace. You can feel your orgasm building, a slow, inexorable tide that threatens to sweep you away.

The room fills with dizzying and erotic sounds—the wet, slick noise of the coat's phallus moving inside you, the soft, needy whimpers that escape your lips with each thrust, the subtle rasp of fabric against your throat as you struggle to breathe. The coat's purring grows louder, a constant thrum of pleasure that seems to echo your own rapidly beating heart.

You're acutely aware of the sensory details—the feeling of the coat's fabric against your skin, the warmth of its body as it holds you aloft, the scent of your arousal mingling with the musky aroma of the coat's inner lining. It's an intoxicating blend that only serves to heighten your pleasure.

The phallus inside you seems to grow even larger, its girth stretching you to your limits as it plunges into your depths. You can feel it pressing against your g-spot, each movement sending jolts of sensation straight to your core. Your toes curl, and a series of soft, needy whimpers escape your lips, the erotic sounds mingling with the wet squelch of the coat's ministrations.

As the coat continues to fuck you, the fabric around your throat pulses in time with the thrusts, a rhythmic pressure that sends you spiraling towards the edge of ecstasy. Your vision begins to blur, stars dancing at the edges of your sight as the combination of sensory overload and restricted airflow push you closer to the brink.

Your body tenses, and then you're falling, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of overwhelming pleasure. Your cries echo through the room, a testament to the ecstasy that courses through your veins. The coat's phallus pulses within you, drawing out your climax until you're left a quivering, gasping mess in its grasp.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to recede, the coat gently releases its hold on your throat, allowing you to draw in a deep, shuddering breath. The phallus inside you softens, retreating back into the fabric of the coat's inner lining.

The aftershocks of your orgasm softly ripple through you and the coat's fabric shifts, its touch changing from demanding to soothing in an instant. You feel its fabric stroking your body, a gentle caress that traces the contours of your skin with a lover's precision. The sensation is both comforting and arousing, a reminder of the pleasure it's capable of bestowing upon you. So much better than it biting you.

"Can we cuddle now?" you mumble, your voice soft and sated. The coat seems to understand, its fabric tightening around you in a warm, comforting embrace. It lowers your body back to the bed as if you were the most precious thing in the realm.

You snuggle against the coat, your fingers gripping the lapels while your body still trembles from the intensity of your release. The scent of your arousal is heavy in the air, a musky aroma that mingles with the musty scent of the coat's inner lining. You can feel your juices leaking from your body, a slow, sticky trickle that slides down your inner thighs. Another mess you were going to have to clean up.

The coat, ever eager, seems unabashed by your wetness. Its fabric shifts between your legs, the tip of its phallus emerging once more to lap at the moisture that pools at your entrance like an eager tongue. The sensation is startling, a cool, wet touch that sends a jolt of pleasure coursing through you.

Your heart pounds against your ribcage like a caged bird desperate for freedom, each beat a staccato reminder of the pleasure that still courses through your veins. You're breathless, your chest heaving with each ragged inhalation as you try to regain some semblance of control over your body. But the coat, it seems, has other plans. Greedy for your pleasure.

"I can't," you protest weakly, your voice barely a whisper. "I'm exhausted."

The coat ignores your plea, its fabric shifting against your skin with a maddeningly sensual rhythm.

The tongue laps at your entrance, slurping up the remnants of your orgasm with an eagerness that borders on voracious. You can't help but squirm as it traces teasing patterns on your skin, each touch sending little shivers of sensation coursing through you. The sound of the coat's ministrations fills the room—a wet, squelching noise that's almost as arousing as the physical sensations.

"Please," you beg, your voice trembling with a mix of desire and trepidation. "It's too much."

But the coat is relentless, its tongue delving deeper into your folds with each passing moment. You feel yourself stretching once again to accommodate its girth, your body yielding to the coat's insistent advance. The sensation is intense, a mix of pleasure and a slight sting that leaves you gasping for breath.

You roll and writhe on the bed, your body twisting and turning in a futile attempt to escape the overwhelming sensations. The coat's fabric tightens around you, holding you aloft as it continues its erotic assault. You're trapped, completely at the mercy of the sentient garment that seems intent on wringing every last ounce of pleasure from your exhausted body.

"Stop," you plead, your voice breaking on the word. "I can't take any more."

The coat, however, seems determined to prove you wrong. It knows you, knows your limits. Its tongue plunges into your depths, pressing against your g-spot with a precision that only serves to heighten your arousal. You can feel your body clenching around the thick intrusion, your muscles fluttering in time with the rhythmic thrusts.

Your fingers grasp at the sheets beneath you, clenching as your makes rake against the soft fabric. You can feel the coat purring in response to your sounds of pleasure and writhes of ecstasy, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation to the mix.

Your body tenses, and then you're falling, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of overwhelming pleasure. Your cries echo through the room, a testament to the ecstasy that courses through your veins. The coat's tongue pulses within you, drawing out your climax until you're left a quivering, gasping mess in its grasp.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to recede, the coat gently releases its hold on you. Exhausted and sated, you collapse onto the bed, your body still trembling from the intensity of your release. The sound of your ragged breathing fills the room, a stark contrast to the silence that follows.

And then, just as you're on the brink of unconsciousness, you feel the coat's fabric shift against your skin one last time. It wraps itself around you in a warm, comforting embrace, a silent promise of protection and care. You snuggle against the coat, your fingers clutching at the fabric as sleep claims you at last. About fucking time.

The last thing you hear before darkness takes you is the soft, rhythmic thrum of the coat's purring, a gentle lullaby that lulls you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Date Published: 7/4/24

Last Edit: 7/4/24

[yerimbrit]

[flufftober day 29, wc: 595] - irl twilight : p. sohyun & z. xinyu

VAMPIRES AND WEREWOLVES, ah yes, the cliché that every stereotypical fantasy horror-romance story has… except, you don’t know why your company took you, sohyun, and xinyu to fulfill those roles—sohyun being the werewolf, xinyu being the vampire, and you, the beautiful female lead which has attracted both of the supernatural beings.

it’s supposed to be a photoshoot, something for a special halloween event that you three got voted for in a gravity for some reason, but these two are seriously getting on your nerves.

“take five!” the director calls, the two girls beside you still not breaking their fiery gazes. 

your shoulders slump, and you sigh, “you know you guys don’t have to actually fight over me, right?”

“we’re merely playing into our roles,” xinyu chirps, wrapping a protective arm around your waist, “right, sohyun?”

the short-haired girl (aka werewolf) hesitates for a moment, glancing at xinyu’s hand, “...yeah.”

“i know sohyun’s representative animal is a wolf, but i feel like you two should switch roles. the personalities are kind of off,” you remark, peeling the possessive arm away from your body and making your way to the refreshment tables. the two girls trail behind you, acting as if they were your shadows.

you can hear them fighting with each other behind you as you take a sip of ice-cold  water, soothing the heated nerves in your throat. but it’s too much of a bother and too much effort to break them up, because the second you turn away they’ll just start again—like just now.

when you turn around, they face away from each other like they did nothing wrong. “i can literally feel you pinching each other from here, what are you even fighting over?”

the ‘vampire’ smirks, and the ‘werewolf’ grimaces. “you.”

you can only shake your head and head back to the set, nodding at the director. 

“okay, y/n i want you to sit in that chair, and then sohyun and xinyu behind you.”

the three of you follow the instructions, and of course the girls’ hands land on your shoulders. the grip intensifies after they share a pointed look. 

the director hums, before calling out again, “actually, i want sohyun resting her head on y/n’s lap, is that fine?”

you turn your head to see what’s going to happen, and xinyu side-eyes sohyun, who quirks the corner of her lip up like an unspoken, ‘ha. i win,’ before smiling fully at you. 

her head falls neatly onto your lap, her lower body resting on the floor in an elegant manner, and xinyu’s hand moves to have her nail gently brush against your neck. her doe eyes are trained on you, whereas you’re staring dreamily at the camera, and sohyun’s sharp gaze is also directed at you.

“perfect, perfect! this is more than enough, combined with the pictures from earlier, thank you girls!”

well, the photoshoot is over. but neither xinyu nor sohyun are making a move to detach themselves from you. instead, the ‘vampire’ leans down, breath fanning your ear and sending shivers down your spine, and whispers a message into your ear, sohyun not hearing the words she delivered to you.

not that it really matters, because the ‘werewolf’ stands up abruptly and takes your hand to lead you out of the building while pulling the stupid wolf ears off of her head. 

“hey!” xinyu shouts after you two, “heyy!”

“ignore her,” sohyun whispers, whisking you away to the car before the other girl can even think about catching up, “i’m the one you’ll choose, right?”

“um…”

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : hmm...

[dwindlinghaze]

this is just an idea

remus & reader are harboring feelings for each other and it being like an unspoken thing that they like each other amongst not only themselves but their friends

but someone (could be a friend or someone outside their friend group) acknowledges it just pointing out all the things you guys do like the way you’re only affectionate with him / the two of you are very touchy or maybe you wearing his sweaters and sharing his chocolate with you

just very much them being read by someone on how they give each other special treatment (boyfriend and girlfriend treatment) and to stop being around the bush.

just fluffy goodness 🩷

hey anon !! tysm for requesting,, here's the fic. i hope u like it <3 sorry i made some tiny changes,,, i didn't realise while writing it :( ☁️☁️🤍

you'll never know

(remus lupin x reader)

contents: fluff, she/her pronouns, they know there's something between them, pure fluff

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

started as a simple friendship. thinking love hadn't been meddled in. you would talk into the night and nobody had noticed.

could you call it hope that you and remus can be something more? you always knew your little crush on the boy. you acknowledge it and accept it because who on earth would not fall in love with remus lupin.

that scruffy looking but sweet remus lupin.

he's the kind of person that you would look for in a long lasting sort of bond.

remus lupin had so many things to hold. he has to hold the burden of being a lycanthrope, he has to hold james and sirius accountable as for he is a prefect, he has to hold heavy books, he held every brain in the marauders combined.

and most importantly; he hold you. your hands, your bicep, you waist, your robe, your books.

your heart.

it was very obvious that you harboured feelings for him some time during this year.

and he does too. he knew about your feelings and respect it. he wouldn't want to cross your boundaries though- or the thin line that separates platonic and romantic in your friendship.

people around noticed. especially remus' close friends. james and sirius know the boy so well that they're aware of the differences of remus when he's with you and when he's with anyone else.

but they never really spoke about it though. they want to give remus some privacy and want him to actually be the one that puts you together.

he holds your hand when you guys are walking. he doesn't hold anyone's hand. never. he lets you eat his last bar of chocolate but would scold sirius if he even tries to touch his ten stacks of them. he pulled your hair back when it's blocking your view while reading. he lets you sleep on his lap with his favourite sweater draped around your torso.

and it's really strange to the others because he never lets anyone wear his 'favourite' sweater. if peter asked to borrow one of his sweaters, he would give him choices except that one.

it is his favourite because it was the first sweater of remus' that you wore. you were cold and had asked remus if he had an extra one in hand. and he did. it fits you a bit too large but it's perfect either way.

you only wore it once but the photographs he has taken in his mind recalling the day you wear it lingers for not only once.

that's why he loves wearing it so much. you found him wearing the sweater a lot. a silly part of him thinks that if he let anyone else wears the sweater, they would also be smitten by you as him.

"rem are you listening to me?" you looked up, eyebrows raising.

"hmm what were you saying?" he got out of his lavender haze, still a smile playing on his lips. his smile isn't a perfect smile. it's lopsided and asymmetrical. but you loved it. the way his cheeks crinkled around the edge of his lips and the way his eyes twinkle is simply a beautiful sight.

"what were you thinking about hm?" you asked as you got up from his lap into a sitting position. remus' lap felt cold, missing the warmth of you a second ago.

"nothing," he replied, though he is still smiling at you. it was a lie, he was thinking of something- or rather someone.

"i was just saying that i'm going to go up. it's almost ten," you said, pointing to the clock that hung on the wall across the sofa you were both laying at.

"oh yeah. go up and sleep, dove. you must be tired," he said before kissing your cheeks.

his lips lingered there for a while. his warm breath hovering over your skin. he always does this. he always kiss you on your cheeks or temple.

you wondered if that's a special treatment for you. he never does that to anyone else.

his chapped lips were such a contrast to your soft skin. but you never mind it. if anything you loved the way his lips felt in your warming cheeks.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

"morning world!" sirius cheered as he took a seat on the gryffindor table for breakfast.

"that lovebirds still has come down yet?" james asked.

"nope. i'm honestly getting sick of their blindness," sirius grumbled. "why can't they just date already? like- it has been six years!"

"give them time, not everything has to be rushed!" lily snapped, irritated by how loud his voice is in the morning.

"lilypad's right!" james agreed, just for the sake of lily. though he also thinks that one of you should make the move as soon as possible.

it was suffocating to see his best friends being madly in love with each other and also not doing anything about it. he knew remus is a gentleman and he would never in his life do something that could upset you but this is getting so hard to watch.

"they're coming! act normal!" peter said, turning his attention to his three slices of pumpkin pie.

"hey 'vryone," you greeted, smiling at your friends.

james' eyes darted to your fingers. they were intertwined with remus' which made the boy scoff.

"what's with the face?" remus spoke up, sitting down besides you.

"nothing- i'm just tired of you," james said, yawning.

remus ignored him, instead he put down a plate in front of you and started to place your favourite foods on to your plate.

"thanks, rem," you said, cheeks flushing. he always did this to you. he kissed the crown of your head in response.

"ugh this is so gross," sirius groaned.

"i think it's cute," lily said.

"you think so? do you what to do the stuff they do together? y'know since you like it and i also like it so we both like it and we should fulfil our needs of likeness by doing it...?" james said, sending a grin to the redhead's way.

you didn't know what happened next because remus has now occupied your full attention. he was talking about the new book he has read and thought that you would like it too. he retold the novel as a short summary for you to hear.

sirius eyed the two of you suspiciously. he knows how much remus loves you. he even talks in his sleep about how adorable your voice sounds when you're sleepy.

sirius has had enough of it. maybe it's time for him to knock some sense on remus and make you go out with him.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

"moony, what are you afraid of?" sirius asked out of the blue.

remus furrowed his brows, taken aback by his sudden question. "what?"

"just answer. what are you afraid of?"

"i don't know.... i'm afraid of toads? they're gross and sticky," he grimaced.

sirius almost wanted to slap his face. that wasn't supposed to be his answer. "i mean- what are you so afraid of until you can't date her?"

remus thought about it for a while but he doesn't really have to.

you are beautiful to him. simply, magnificent. maybe even too perfect for the world. he knows that the love is mutual and that he's not fighting alone.

you know about his furry little problem and you don't mind. if anything, you might even love him more because of how strong he is- having to go through all of that until his last breath.

you know about his vulnerable side and you told him that he can be just remus lupin when he's with you. he doesn't have to put on a facade. he just has to be him.

you both cried, laughed, cry-laughed in each other's arms. remus is a guy with a tough exterior, but you know how much of a softie he can be. you never make fun of him for it.

and you even managed to let him accept that he's not the cause of anyone's problem. he's not at fault for being a werewolf. he is just like everyone else in the school but more wonderful.

there's actually no reason to be afraid.

maybe he's just waiting for you to ask him because he's still not sure if you wanted him to actually be your boyfriend or not.

maybe he worried about you and him not working out at the end and has to suffer as ex lovers. the thought of you not being able to do your usual stuff with him anymore ached his soul.

sirius saw how remus' expression changed from a good one to a worried one. he wondered, "what's stopping you, moony? is it the werewolf?"

"as insane as it sounds, i don't worry about that," remus replied. never in his life that he ever thought about actually saying those words. but you came and changed everything. though he still worry about his lycanthropy and hurting people, he accepts the fact that he would never hurt you. you're not dumb. you can save yourself and remus trust you with every cel in his body.

it's actually bewildering how you can do that to him.

if the waters dries up and the moon stops shining, stars fall and the world goes blind, remus knows he will be saving his love for you.

"then go and ask her, moony! don't put someone in a position like y/n's. it's confusing and at the end, if you don't do anything about it, it will leave you two hurting. just trust me mate," sirius patted his on his head.

remus thought about that too- every sleepless nights. he's actually going feral right now as we speak.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

one sunny afternoon, you were sitting on the clocktower field with remus beside you.

you were informing him about the type of clouds in the sky. this topic is actually one of the small amount of information that he doesn't know.

your fingers darted to the little bubbles of clouds in the sky, "this one, it looks like cotton right?"

"it does," he replied, nodding his head at you as he looked lovingly at your face. you were so mesmerising. he is sure if anyone looks at your for more than two seconds, they would be head over heels.

"that's cirrocumulus," you beamed at him.

"ah yes, the cumulus family," he said back.

"what? i don't remember saying anything about cloud families," you laughed.

his arms were around you, secured tightly. his head was touching the side of your face. if anyone sees this from an outsider's point of view, there is no denying that you two are dating.

"well- if i can recall correctly there is cumulus, altocumulus, and cirrocumulus," he remembered.

he remembered!

of course he did. he always listens to you.

you shook your head, pushing it further on his neck.

"honestly, you two are such a cute couple-" you heard a voice coming from behind. lifting your head around, you saw a girl smiling at you and remus.

"you guys always hold hands- even right now! lupin's only affectionate towards you and that's so sweet. y'know, so you feel special. you two look at each other like you're the only people in the world! and lupin shares his sweaters with you! i could only wish," the voice continued.

your cheeks flushed, you have no idea what to say. but remus does, "i know, you'll find your own y/n soon."

the girl's cheeks reddened, dreaming about the thought of having it.

when she left, you turned to look at remus. the smile still hasn't faded. you buried your face on remus' chest; hiding it there. he knows this action all too well.

he wrapped both of his arms around you while he smiled with full knowledge. he closed his eyes, thinking about that talk with sirius.

he doesn't want to be too late. what if you give up on him because you're tired of not establishing the relationship you two are having?

"is it true you're only affectionate to me so you make me feel special?" you asked. your voice came out muffled by his sweater.

"nope. i'm affectionate towards you because i love you and i feel like myself when i'm with you," he pressed his lips on the top of you head.

your heart jolted at those three words. you knew remus likes you- but love? that just got one step beyond.

"rem, do you mean that?"

"what?" he pulled away and took hold of your face. "i love you."

you smiled against his palms. "i love you too," you whispered softly. you don't have to be loud, he can hear you just as well.

"i know," he kissed your nose.

"you do?" you feel yourself heating up under his stare.

"i feel it," he simply reply. "i'm actually disappointed because you think i only like you," he chuckled. "you're wrong y'know. i love you very very much. i've shown that to you everyday. just hoping that you'd catch up."

"sorry, i tend to doubt things."

"don't doubt me," he cooed.

"i know," you laughed. "are we..?"

"um if you want to yeah," he assured. you loved how he doesn't pressure you into things. he always makes sure that you're fine with everything.

you nodded.

"okay. we should- i don't know, what does two people do right after they tell each other about their love?" remus asked, acting confused.

"hmm i don't know, i think they hug each other? should we?"

"we hug each other everyday. we should do something more..."

"like...?" you dragged on, loving how flustered he is to even say the word 'kiss'.

"stop. i know you know."

"i do," you giggled.

"okay i'm gonna kiss you now," he leaned in and kissed you.

it was a lie if he says that he never dreamt of this. what he dreamt of was definitely far from reality because it is much better in real life with an actual you.

the kiss was tender, very gentle. when the two of you pulled away, you looked at his eyes, loving how pretty it is under the warm sun yet cold wind.

"i love you."

he pulled you closer to him- even though you're already insanely close. your face was tucked under his chin with his palm pressing your head softly against his chest, the other around your waist.

there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow he chased.

[brekwrites]

Howdy Brek!! I hope you're doing well! I love your writing, especially where Sun and Solar are the protagonists, you write their relationship in such a beautiful, sexy and tender way.I hope this isn't taken the wrong way, but there's a scenario between the two of them that's been on my mind since the last chapter of "What if". And since I don't like the anguish of pure pain without comfort because my heart and soul are weak, I couldn't help but think of a scenario where even though Solar revives with bloodlust, that doesn't necessarily mean there has to be a sad ending, because it would be a Solar who at times becomes a feral vampire and that idea besides being terrifying can also be VERY SEXY if it turns into something romantic.Imagine Sun helping to control the ""thirst"" of him boyfriend Solar (it doesn't have to be just bloodlust, it could be hunger for star power too, perhaps... and other instincts and primitive needs heheh) until New Moon finds a way to "cure" him. But Sun would definitely be safe because he's the vampire Solar's partner.I personally would love to throw New Moon into that mix but I understand that some people don't like the concept of polyamory where siblings share a boyfriend.Anyway, this is by no means an order, just an idea I thought someone who enjoys Sun and Solar's sexy and romantic content might like.You don't have to reply to this message if you don't want to ok! Take care and again, I love your stories!

Hi!! I have actually been turning this idea over in my brain since the recent episode. I agree with you. Maybe the combination of bloodlust, but it’s still physically Solar, who doesn’t need blood to survive, but still needs to sate those urges? And blood itself isn’t doing anything for him, and he’s so hungry even though he’s eaten, and he ends up biting and feeding on Sun or New Moon. I honestly like both ideas, but as divergent possibilities.

I could see a Solar that was already in a relationship with Sun being brought back, Sun trying to comfort him and being so close and he’s so hungry. Sun realizing what he wants and offering himself up, and we get that nice topping from the bottom vibe I enjoy with them. Solar’s physically dominant, he’s feeding on him, but he’s being so, so careful, and Sun is the one that’s in control, because he has what Solar needs, and in the beginning he’s having to reassure Solar that it’s okay for him to have this, he’s willing to give it to him, he wants to give it to him. Yeah, that shit slaps.

I could also see a Solar that was crushing on Moon before he died being completely embarrassed that the object of his affections is seeing this side of him. Moon is trying his best to help provide for him, but it’s not working, and one day he gets too close at the wrong moment and Solar’s instincts kick in and he can’t help it. He bites him. And Moon makes this noise that’s… hmm. Queue lots of flustered apologies and both of them retreating to think about wtf they just learned about themselves. Eventually Solar goes to apologize and Moon just blurts out that he didn’t mind it, actually, and he really likes Solar, actually, and he wouldn’t mind a repeat performance.

I’ll add both to my possible fic list, and maybe you’ll see them in the future. My idea list is LONG tho, so it might be a bit! Could make a nice halloween special lmfao.

Thanks for yapping with me, this was fun! If anyone else wants to send me fun ideas to theorize about and get a quick little blurb like this one ^ and MAYBE (no guarantees) a future fic if the inspiration strikes, feel free!

[eeboshmeebo]

🍨Sticky Sundaes on Sunday🍨

ITS FUCKIN YAOI DAY!!! Male/GN reader x Monoma Neito. Also the mandatory @jyohan because mutual 'u'

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"Hey, Nei-nei! Neeeeiiii... you okay? You're spacing out a bit."

A hand waved in front of his face to grab his attention. Your hand, and you had gotten pretty close to him while he was spacing out.

"Oh! Oh... sorry, I was just looking around. I haven't been around this part of Kazegawa before." He responds, moving your hand out of the way before continuing to look around.

You were a bit frustrated. There weren't a lot of things you could easily think of doing on a date like this. However, a nearby brightly colored ice cream parlor caught your eye. Perfect for a day like this.

"Well, we could start with that ice cream place over there. It's pretty hot today, almost as hot as you, heheh!"

You smiled at how easily he blushed at that comment and the way you grabbed his wrist.

"Well, you seem hot anyways with how red your face is, and it's not just the way you left some parts of your shirt unbuttoned."

"I- uh- b-the- the what?"

Despite his sputtering, he let you lead him to the ice cream parlor anyways after a bit of grumbling under his breath about confusing him with your words.

~✪

As you stepped into the store, you immediately noticed how many options there were for ice cream flavors. And the most prominent one being an ice cream themed after Monoma with lemon syrup hair, blueberry yogurt melts as eyes, cookie clock toppings, blue sprinkles, and with two scoops of ice cream, the 'head' being a summer peach scoop and the body being black sesame flavor. Not to mention the two red round sprinkles on the cheeks.

Of course, within that time you were looking at the advertisement, Monoma had already gotten and paid for his own ice cream.

"I'll take the limited-edition Phantom Scoop Sundae, please."

His eyebrows furrowed before widening almost comically when he saw the ice cream you ordered, almost dropping his own before you caught it in time.

"They have a themed ice cream. After..."

"Yes!"

He had a prideful smirk on his face at that revelation. A genuine smirk combined with both joy and pride that he had something like this after him.

He was obviously distracted even as you paid the cashier and dragged him off to a nearby table, the one right next to the window. the place even had those specialized cone holders at each table.

You took a picture of how happy he was, and the ice cream held up right next to him. You'd keep that for a long while...

"I almost can't believe it. An ice cream, themed after me! Even the ice cream shops know that I'm better than those A-class losers to make a season-limited ice cream of me! And- and... what're you doing?"

He was surprised out of his rant by the way you licked the ice cream you bought, and the way you pressed your lips against it. Instantly, his steam turned to bluster as he saw that.

"What? Is something wrong, Nei-Nei?"

"N-nope! It's me, there's nothing wrong with me, hahaha!"

Were your actions intentional? Who knew. Only you did. Spoiler, it was.

"Well, this one tastes pretty good, but... I wanna know how yours tastes like. We can swap for a little."

Immediately, Monoma swapped your cones. You licked up the bit of his that got onto your hand while he licked yours before blushing at the realization of an indirect kiss.

"Hmm."

He made a confused face as he heard the small hum you made, along with the way you set the ice cream cone into one of the holders.

"They both taste good, though, I have something to tell you. It's a secret so you'll have to lean closely."

His face scrunched up at that, but he set your cone down in the nearby holders anyways and leaned towards you.

"So, what's the secre- mmph!"

You only had to move slightly to kiss him. He was shell-shocked for the entirety of the few moments you both kissed before you pulled away, licking your own lips.

"I like the real thing better."

You smiled cheekily as you took your ice cream and ate the parts that were about to drip. Monoma was still blushing as he ate the rest of his own ice cream, but he was smiling, too.

Especially as he held your hand while you didn't notice.

~🍦

You both made it back to UA. You'll never forget the taste of his lips on yours or the sweetness of his happiness as he held your hand all the way back.

~💘

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[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

These were some of the tags on one of those "Are they soulmates?" polls...

Okay, once more with feeling...

The axis mundi runs through heaven but it's not the corridors that we see later on in the series that the angels use to get around up there. It's the path that a soul can take to move through their memories, their own heaven. If they follow it long enough it will lead them to the garden. Just like the axis mundi, the garden appears differently to different souls. But Sam and Dean both see the axis mundi the same, a two lane blacktop road, and they both see the garden the same, the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. Every other time they show us Heaven, souls have to pull serious tricks to get out of their heaven and into someone else's but Dean doesn't have to do anything special to find or get to Sam, he just follows the path through his heaven which leads him to Sam. Ash finds them together because they are in a shared heaven, that's literally how the show set it up. Only special cases like soulmates share heavens and they see the garden and the axis mundi the same because they are soulmates.

And whether or not Sam and Dean are soulmates in the show has absolutely ZERO to do with anyone's personal ideas about soulmates and what they are or aren't. All that matters for this discussion is what the show says. I realize the show didn't come right out and say, "Sam and Dean, you two are soulmates" but that is the only fucking reason that the idea of soulmates would have ever been brought up in the first place. What the show did say was...

Sam: So… no offense… Ash: (interrupting) How did a dirt bag like me end up in a place like this? I’ve been saved, man. I was my congregation’s number one snake handler. Sam: (smiling) And you said this was your heaven? Ash: Yup! My own… personal… (Ash shotguns his beer while Sam and Dean watch. He burps.) Sam: And when the angels jumped us? We were… Ash: In your heaven. Sam: So there’re two heavens? Ash: No. More like a hundred billion. So, no worries, it’ll take those angels boys a minute to catch up. Dean: (completely confused) What? Ash: See, you gotta stop thinking of heaven as one place. It’s more like a butt-load of places all crammed together. Like Disneyland except without all the anti-Semitism. (Dean and Sam still look confused.) Sam: Disneyland? Ash: Mm-hmm. Yeah. See you got Winchesterland. (He holds up his hands to indicate the bar.) Ashland. (He points all around outside the bar.) A whole mess of everybody-else-lands. Put them all together: heaven. Right? At the center of it all? Is the Magic Kingdom. The Garden. Dean: So everybody gets a little slice of paradise. Ash: Pretty much. A few people share—special cases. What not. Dean: What do you mean ‘special’? Ash: Aw, you know. Like, uh, soul-mates. (Silence greets his statement. Dean and Sam don’t look at each other.) Anyway. Most people can’t leave their own private Idaho’s. Dean: But you ain’t most people. Ash: Nope. They ain’t got my skills.

There are a few important things said here. When the angels attacked them, Ash found Sam and Dean in their heaven, Winchesterland as Ash calls it, not Deanland or Samland, but combined. He then says that soulmates are unusual because they share a heaven. And then, in case there was any doubt, he specifically says that most people cannot leave their own heavens. Ash can because he has special, unusual, skills. So Dean couldn't have simply driven from his heaven to Sam's heaven because heaven doesn't work that way.

Like, this really isn't that complex. What they gave us was a basic equation where they explained the variables and left the answer understood but just not filled in.

Neither Sam nor Dean could leave their heaven on their own because they lacked the skills to do so, only soulmates share a heaven, but they were together and seeing the landmarks of heaven the same way. The only thing this equals is that Sam and Dean are soulmates.

[officialstrawhat]

The Rose of Dressrosa- Chapter 3

Hello! As always please enjoy the next chapter!

Also, I just started Whole Cake Island and O. M. G.!

Trafalgar D. Law x Fem!Reader

Chapter List

Summary:

After King Riku is dethroned, Doflamingo takes you under his wing and asks you to follow only one strict rule, "do not leave the palace alone". However, your sense of adventure is too great.

Law had only one thing in mind... Revenge. And you seemed like the best way to do that.

Warnings: Dark themes, manipulation, creepy doffy

Note: Gif is not mine. Not Edited.

Word Count: 1.2K

Chapter 3

You entered the bookstore tugging the hood of your cloak as far forward as you could. Once the man at the front desk was unoccupied you walked over to him. 

“Hello. I just finished this book,” you set the brown leather back down on the counter. "This is volume two and only has tales of the South Blue and I was hoping to find the one about the Grand Line, you wouldn’t happen to have that one would you?"

“I can check.” He smiled kindly, pulling out the large inventory book. “No ma’am, sorry.” He said after a few minutes of flipping through thin pages. 

You purse your lips, “Do you know where I can find it ?” 

“May I?” He motioned to the book.

You gave him the book and he flipped to one of the last pages. “Just as I thought. Less than 100 copies were made of each. These books are so rare. Where'd you find this one?”

You opted not to tell him in the palace library but instead, “I used to read the one about the Grand Line when I was a kid. I was really hoping to find that one.”

“Well if you can't find that one there's always volumes one, three, and four out there somewhere” He told her, “You sure the one you used to read was about the Grand Line?”

“Yes. I’m positive.”

“Hmm..” the shopkeeper ran his finger on the inked words, “It says here there are only four books, covering only the East, West, North and South Blues. No Grand Line one. Sorry. We have other adventure stories in our myths and fairytale section. Feel free to browse.”   

“Thank you,” You told him feeling your heart sank. 

----

Since Doflamingo had taken ownership of Dressrosa, the Kingdom practically ran itself. Everyone in his family had their jobs and he heard no complaints so far. Thanks to his family's combined efforts he could sit in his luxurious office chair and stare out of his large window with no worry in the world. 

“Young Master,” a voice rang out in the silence.

“Monet.” Doffy greeted, not looking away from the window. “Report.”

“The money from the weapons deal has finally been transferred to our accounts, and it seems as though Caesar Clown has agreed to study devil fruits as well.”

“That all seems like wonderful news but I can tell there's something else on your mind.”

“Yes.”

“Out with it then.” 

“This concerns your Rose.”

“What about her?” Doffy's eyebrows furrowed. 

“I think you may be going too soft on her.”

“Do you?” He asked dangerously.

“She’s no longer a child bringing you flowers anymore.” She told him calmly, she paused waiting for a reaction. Monet knew she was walking a fine line. She understood Doffys reasoning behind bringing you into the family, but if you weren’t yielding results during training and you weren't assisting with family duties, what use were you. 

When Doffy said nothing she continued, “She's almost eighteen and she has been blatantly disobeying your orders. If this had been anyone else there would have been consequences. You cannot keep giving her special treatment. Especially since she's not really a part of this family.”  

That did it. The Warlord rose from his seat, “She is as much part of this family as you or I,” He told the green-haired woman seriously moving over to stand next to the large window with a panoramic view of the west side of the island, “My Rose serves a purpose in a different way. Besides, I've already spoken with her.” 

“Really? Then tell me, Young Master,” Monet moved over to stand beside him, “Where is your Rose right now?”

----

When you walk out of the bookstore you glance at the small clock tower. 

Shit…

 This was taking longer than you had initially thought it would. It may have just been by chance but you were thankful something caught your eye, in the crowd of people and toys, you spot Violet looking around the street. You weren't sure if she was looking for you or not but you were not going to stick around to find out.

Gulping, you enter a cantina whose entrance is in an alley, hoping this would shield you for a while at least until she leaves the area.

“What can I get ya?”  the bartender grunts as you sat on the stool.

“Uh-” You weren't much of a drinker, so you glanced at the dirty menu, “A sangria please.” he grunts again before walking away to make your drink. 

As he did, your mind wandered back to the book. Were there really only four volumes? And if these books were rare, how did your mother have a copy? 

You glance at a clock that was located above one of the risers that held all the glass bottles filled with alcohol and inwardly groaned. You were definitely going to be late to training now. Monet would tell Doffy, and Doffy would not be happy you knew that for sure. Pissing off Doffy was never on your to-do list but he could never stay mad at you for long. Right? 

The barman places the drink in front of you, “That’ll be seven berry.” 

Your eyes widened at the realization, “Oh, I don’t have any money.” 

The large man did not like this, “Then how did you expect to pay for this drink.” he seethed, “Oh I know. Planning on running up a tab, were ya. Hoping to cheat me!” 

“No-”

 “I’m calling the authorities.” 

“Look-”

“Here,” A tattooed hand puts down a large bill, “For her drink, and get me a bottle of whiskey.”

“Thanks,” you say guardedly. Not exactly loving the fact that some stranger had to come to your rescue.

“Don’t mention it.” The stranger sat on the stool next to you. It was at this time he got a better look at you, “You don't seem like the type to be at a place like this.” 

“First time for everything,” she said as the bartender brought the tattooed man his glass and a bottle. Looking at him more closely he didn't seem that much older than you. You looked at his hands again, this time actually analyzing his tattoos. Death, his knuckles read. 

“You don't seem like someone who's from Dressrosa.” You told him, raising your eyebrows.

“Just passing through.” He smirked, pouring the amber colored liquid into the glass  “I’m here on business.”

“Oh yeah, What do you do?” you sounded bored as you sipped your drink.

“I’m a ship's captain,” he stuck a hand out, “Law.” He used his real name. If Doffy didn’t like her out and about on her own, he was positive she would tell no one of their meeting. 

This peeked your interest and you shook his hand, “Y/N”. This man was from out of town, you felt safe knowing he would have no idea who you were. 

“Y/N,” Law repeated. “Nice to meet you.”

“So if you're a captain,” You say slowly, taking a sip of your drink, “does that mean you’ve actually sailed through the Grand Line?”

You tried not to sound too excited, but you couldn't help it. The thought of a life anywhere other than Dressrosa, it intrigued you.

“Most of it.” Law nodded, “Not many people can say that.” 

“Really?! Where have you been?” You didn’t even notice yourself leaning in closer to him. “How many Islands have you been to? Is it true there are Winter Islands? 

“Yeah, been to lots too. But I've never been here before.” he told you, before slyly adding, “Maybe you can show me around?”

He watches you smile and he smirks too. This was going to be easy.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @rebeccawinters @mj-airlines @awkwardspontaneity

[chronically-ghosted]

First Base.

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5212

summary: you agree to his every precaution. he's not going to kill you, just bite you, a little bit. You hope a lot.

warnings/tags: making out, talking in bed while half-naked, max comes with his own warning, blood but only a lil, the discovery of a new vampire ability (this is so self indulgent), established friends with benefits situation but not a relationship, #pedrostories1k, @pedrostories

a/n: i've only got two parts written. lemme know if you'd like more!

Next | Series Masterlist

🤍 Masterlist 🤍 Get notified when I post new works!

The instant he heard the term, Max was obsessed. He’d whisper it in your ear in the hallways. He’d growl it into your throat as he split you open on his mattress, fingers wrapped like iron around your wrists – those were times he had to be especially careful. He’d leave notes addressed to you at your desk, or in the apartment kitchen, with it written across the top. He’d even occasionally put “my” before it. Hell, it was your name in his phone’s contacts. 

Monsterfucker. 

Monster. Fucker.

Monsterfucker. 

His little monsterfucker. 

My monsterfucker.

Does my monsterfucker like that?

You’re being so good for me, little monsterfucker. 

I’m gonna come on your chest now, you monsterfucker. 

Was it an unhealthy nickname that he said far too often around the office and dangerously close to your coworkers? Yes. Did you regret showing him that tweet and explaining what it meant? Absolutely not. Because you were. His. And a monsterfucker. 

Unfortunately, outside the truly staggering stamina he displayed, an occasional nip at the kitchen counter after a particularly long bout of mind-blowing sex, and a flash of a toe-curlingly long tongue he gave you only after you’d begged for it for hours at a time . . . Max was often more an annoying, smug fucker than a monster to fuck. Which is to say, the fangs rarely made an appearance. Only recently had he started leaving bags of blood in your apartment’s refrigerator and even those were wrapped up in special bags that prevented freezer burn, as if to say, nothing special here. He still wouldn’t eat in front of you, always more eager to pick up dinner and watch you eat, as if the memory of human food alone would satiate him. 

He resolutely hadn’t let his fangs out anywhere near the bedroom. 

And that monsterfucker in you was finally starting to be annoyed by it. You’d done everything you could think of, short of drawing a bullseye around your jugular vein. For being a vampire with enhanced peripheral senses, he really couldn’t quite take a hint.

“Max?”

“Hmm.” 

“Can I ask you for a favor?” 

“Sure, baby, what is it?”

“I want you to bite me during sex.” 

His fingers pause in their path along the curve of your waist, over the knots in your spine. You face away from him, having just woken up, and you hope that by posing this question so early in the morning and so bluntly, it might unsettle him enough to at least consider it. His hand hovers just above your ribs, before sliding forward into the soft skin between your bones, and he chuckles.

“No.”

You scowl and sit up, glaring down at him over your shoulder. Shit, maybe asking him first thing in the morning was a bad idea. Hair perfectly tousled in a deadly combination of post-sex and sleepy morning bedhead, Max grins up at you, his right arm tucked up behind his head, giving you a full display of his solid biceps and carved chest. You’d never seen him once lift anything heavier than a stapler. Well, except for the one time he picked up your couch with one hand because your earring had rolled underneath it. 

And whoever said vampires don’t sleep was only partially correct. Max didn’t sleep, he went unconscious. Trying to wake him up before he was ready was like trying to crack open a boulder with a rubber hammer. 

You twist your mouth down to perhaps look more serious than you actually are to hide your recklessly ogling. But the instant he sees your naked torso and your tits he is the one staring shamelessly. 

“Why not? We’ve been dating for almost a year now and you hardly even let me see your fangs, much less feel them.” 

“I bit you last week on the couch when we watched that one movie.” 

“You bit me to scare me and didn’t even break the skin.” 

Max’s eyebrow jumped. Arching slightly, he settles deeper into the pillows, a small smirk dripping across his lips. His hand skims up your knee, over your thigh, his intention very clear. 

“And you want me to break your skin, baby?” He purrs.

“Max, stop. I’m serious.” 

“What were we talking about?”

“Max!” You toss his hand off your thigh and he chuckles again, far too pleased with himself. With a big sigh, he stretches, long arms spearing through the slats in your headboard, toes curling under the sheets, before dropping his hands over his stomach, shivering. He reminded you so much of a cat sometimes, it was sinful. You wouldn’t be surprised if one day you blinked up at him and his eyes were yellow. 

The sheets are frightfully low on his slim hips.

“Baby, look, that kind of shit is dangerous. It’s not that I don’t want you to see that side of me – you’re welcome to look as much as you want –,” he lifts his hands as if to demonstrate his own personal work of art, “but it’s not a joke. It’s called bloodlust for a reason. I’ve worked hard to control it, it’s not always that simple.”

Softly, he drags his fingernails over your knee, more affectionate than sultry. 

“And despite my cool and aloof exterior, I would be pretty bummed if anything ever happened to you.” That easy, devil-may-care smile fades from his face and his wide palm flattens across your knee. When he looks up at you, his eyes are soft, concerned. You rarely get Max’s vulnerable side and when you do, it makes you immediately go gooey on the inside. “Especially if it was me who hurt you.”

You sigh and thread your fingers through his. “And that’s exactly my point, Max. I know you would never hurt me. This is about trust as much as it is about the . . . bloodlust, or whatever. I feel safe with you. Safe enough to try this.”

Together, the two of you had tried pretty much every other kink, toy, or play out there and to you, this was no different. Double penetration would take on a new meaning. You didn’t let yourself even consider triple. One thing at a time.

Max’s thumb rubs thoughtfully over the meat of your hand. “We’d have to work up to it, if we’re going to do this. Make sure I remain in control.”

Your heart picks up speed. “Yes, of course. Same rules as always.”

Max pouts. 

“But I’ve been wanting to change our safe word for a while now.” 

You bring your knotted hands up to your lips and gently kiss every one of his knuckles. “If we do this, you can pick our next safe word.” 

Quick as you can, you slip the nail of his thumb into your mouth and nip him just a bit. His eyes go dark.

“That’s cheating. You’re manipulating me.” 

“Just helping my case along. But what were you saying about working up to it?” You can tell he’s losing focus, that it’s only a matter of minutes before he pulls you into his lap, but this is when he’s most pliable. He had the manic attention span of a dog tempted with a squeaky toy. You kiss the back of his wrist. “Max, c’mon.”

“We’d have to start slow. I’m talking high school, baby leagues. Making out. Light petting, then maybe heavy petting.” 

You shift closer to him, breaking your hands apart as you put an arm over his chest to the other side of the mattress. Instinctively, his hand slides up your inner thigh. His gaze watches your breasts as they swing in movement. 

“Damnit Janet . . . but okay, then we’ll go through the bases.”

“Mhmm hmm . . .” 

You brush his hair back from his forehead and he puts both hands on your hips. You have seconds now. “So, we start with first, go up to second, which is under the clothes stuff. Then third. Oral. But that’s for both of us, right?”

His thumb traces your nipple. “Totally.”

“So that just leaves home plate, right, baby? That’s it then.”

You’ve got your hand around his cock and you stroke once. His mouth parts and his eyes flutter. “What’s it?”

You laugh out your nose.

“You’re impossible, Max Phillips.”

First Base.

“Is this entirely necessary?” 

“I’d prefer you in a snowsuit or nun’s habit, but this will have to do.” 

“At this point, I’ll take the Bugs Bunny onesie you wore for Halloween.” 

Max smirks, lighting the last candle in your bedroom. He shakes out the match until it smokes and he turns back to you. You’re pouting in the middle of the bed. 

“I’m gonna sweat my tits off in all of this.” 

As part of his rules, he made you put on thick woolen socks under your straight-legged jeans. In addition to a black bodysuit as the base, he told you to wear:

A long sleeved turtle neck

A sweatshirt

A jean jacket

And a scarf

His aim was to minimize any open and available skin except the bits you intended to use or for him to bite, but the scarf you refused. It was the middle of summer for god’s sake!

But in the end, he had agreed. He was going to bite you during sex so if you had to roll around naked in a giant bubble for two weeks to get to that, you were more than willing to forgo some comforts. In addition to all but wrapping you up in a burlap sack, Max also insisted on a few extra precautions. 

The first one being that a chain of silver is within reach, next to the bed. Max drained a bag of blood about thirty minutes ago so the hunger wasn’t all consuming. A box of Chips Ahoy cookies sat on your dresser for afterwards, along with a bottle of Gatorade, a brown bottle of disinfectant, a bag of cotton balls, and some bandaids. 

“Are we making out or am I donating blood?” you teased. 

But Max only shrugged. “A bit of both, actually.” 

He also laid out an enormous white towel on your bed. You’d offered to do this in his apartment, but he wanted you as comfortable as possible, to which you frowned.

“You weren’t anywhere near this nice to me when we did anal for the first time.”

He hadn’t even dignified that with a real response but just a swat on your ass. 

But, to your enormous surprise, Max Phillips was a romantic at heart. The candles were to set the mood. 

“Plus,” he says as he crawls onto the bed with you, “it’s very gothic, isn’t it?”

“What, porking by candlelight?” 

He rolls his eyes and swoops in to kiss you on the mouth. 

“No, you little slut. Biting you. Feeding on you. So very Dracula.” He playfully raises an eyebrow. 

“Like you ever once picked up the Bram Stoker novel.” You blink owlishly at him. “In fact, I didn’t know you could read.” 

He wrinkles his nose at you and pinches your cheek.

“Of course, I didn’t read it, but I did see the Coppola film strictly for Winona Ryder. What a babe.”

“Would you make her wear five layers of clothing in the dead heat of summer?” 

“Nah, I’d just eat her outright.” Max snaps his teeth just under your jaw. He is only playing, but it sends a shiver down your spine. He chuckles at your reaction. 

“It’s too easy, baby. Sometimes I think you only like me for my fangs.” 

You bite your lip in thought, as you lean forward, draping your arms over his shoulders. His hands cup your waist.

“Well, not only. The Jag’s a nice perk too.” 

You bend your head to kiss him again, but he draws back, his hand against your cheek, gently stopping you. His dark eyes are serious. In the candlelight, they look almost gold. Despite the almost stern expression, you see something else, but you so rarely see it on him, you aren’t sure you recognize it at all. Fear. Max is genuinely fearful he was going to hurt you. 

“What are the rules again?” 

“Use the silver if and only if you don’t stop when I use the safeword.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere as long as it touches your skin.” Your stomach knots. You know it would hurt him, burn him, and you can’t imagine doing that. But he wants you to have that kind of power over him.

“Keep going.” 

You huff, knowing exactly what he’s after, that verbal confirmation. That agreement on your end as much as his. 

“We’re only going to make out. No groping, licking, or grinding.” 

“That’s right, missy, and you better be home by nine.” 

You bend over and tug his ear lightly with your teeth. But that same sincere look is on his face when you settle back again. He taps your chin with his thumb, eyes watching your lips. 

“What else?”

“After you bite me, if I start to feel dizzy or lightheaded, I also say the safe word immediately. 

Max nods, his thumb moving to anxiously skim against your cheek. “I’ll be taking less than what you’d donate to any blood drive, but it might be faster than you’re used to, so I’m not sure how you’ll react.” 

His gaze searches your face as if you are about to crack and crumble under him. The mere suggestion that the boardroom-schmoozing, bad-boy-batman, bloodsucking bastard Max Phillips is this apprehensive over a little bite is almost mesmerizing to you. He’s never been one to handle you delicately and this is the first and only time you’ve seen him so ill-at-ease.

“Baby, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” You scratch your nails into his hair just above his neck, a place that usually has him oozing into relaxation, but not this time. 

He frowns.

“No, I want to. I really, really want to. It’s just . . .” He swallows, further separating you from him and only letting his hands touch your knees. He seems to be on the verge of something and he can’t quite look you in the eyes. “It’s just . . . it can be harder to control it, for a vampire, when they have a connection with the person they’re feeding from.”

You huff. “Max, of course, we have a connection. You’re my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for months now and –,”

“An emotional connection.” If he could blush properly, he would. “A deep emotional connection.”

“Oh.” 

Is he really saying what you think he’s saying? And he’s telling you now? 

Sometimes it’s rather shocking. That an immortal creature of the night can have the emotional intelligence of a six year old. 

With a gentle sigh, you inch towards him and hitch your leg across his thighs. His eyes widen momentarily before you sit down on his lap. You card your fingers through his hair. His hands hover just over your hips. 

“Do you trust me?” 

He nods without hesitation.

“Well, I trust you too. Quite literally with my life. This is just the first step, Max. But it can be the only step if it’s too much. I won’t bring it up ever again, I promise. You’re not alone in this.”

It’s like your words are a balm to a sunburn. He nods again, closing his eyes. 

He goes up to your neck with his hand, but waits for you to initiate. Your heart threatening your throat with swelling emotion, you fold over him and gently, with care, press your lips to his. 

The hand at your neck pulls you in closer and you turn your head to deepen the kiss. 

It stays like that for a minute. Your hands just resting on his shoulders, his fingers cradling the back of your head, and the other hand sitting contently on your knee. The kisses are almost innocent in their sweetness, curious, as if you’ve really never touched each other before. They smack of puppy love and cotton candy and necking under the bleachers. They’re lettermen jackets and prom-posals. Carving names in trees and promising forever with cheap rings in the shape of hearts and hands. 

But sweet is not what you came here for. 

At the first nip of your teeth, his mouth parts instantly, and all but sucks your tongue against his. You take him in long, rich, wet swipes, tasting the heat gathered in the cup of his mouth, in the muscle of his tongue. You think you taste the faintest hint of copper and you do your best not to shiver under his palms. You remind yourself to not let your tongue go searching for sharper things.

Your hips hitch forward and down, off your knees and into his lap. You’re already warm and despite the layers, you know he can feel it. He groans, air rushing out his nose, the hand in your hair tightens down, and his arm curls up against your lower back to pull you even closer. Your fingers knot into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp just the way you know he likes, your heart already pounding, your thighs clutching his waist. He claws at your back, pressing you harder against him, but beneath the layers, you can barely feel his touch. You whine at the growing heat between your legs and the lack of sensation. You have to feel him. 

With a tug, you jerk off the denim jacket, sweat already sprouting against the valley of your spine. He whines, this time a sound of protest. 

“Baby, don’t–,” he pants, your mouth inches from his. He claws at you and the jacket, needing you nearer and distant all at the same time. “It’s for your own good–,” 

“Just one layer. Please, I’m burning up,” you beg. He relents, letting out a breathless frustrated noise. You hurl the jacket off your arm and onto the floor.

He lifts you both then, hands digging into the back of your thighs, your hands going to his collar to keep the seam of your chests pressed together, and he turns to bury you in the mattress. Despite the countless times you’ve been in this exact position, it somehow manages to feel like the first time you made out with him. That same frantic heat, that buzzing energy, that need to touch and explore but not wasting a second to linger. A pulsing warmth swells between your legs and your hips jerk up a fraction of an inch, but they keep from making contact with the seam of his jeans. He’d never do this again if you broke his rules. 

Showing him where you want him to go, you nip his earlobe as he pries your thighs apart with his hands around the back of your knees, out of habit more than anything. You suck down on the back of his jaw, the smell of his hair and aftershave scratching against the rough of your insides to burn you a little bit hotter. Your teeth worry his skin just to the right of the knot in his throat and he jerks, moaning. He shifts his weight down, his pelvis tilting into the cradle of your hips and you eagerly receive him. You’ll go as far as he’ll willingly allow, but you want him to know this isn’t all on him.

“Color?” You tear your mouth away from his, hands nestled around the backs of his ears, you push back to look him in the eye. 

He answers you a second before he lunges in to kiss you again. “Green.” 

“You wanna keep going?” Don’t grind, don’t grind, don’t grind. 

He nods, eyes closing for a second. “‘m okay, I’m okay. Put your hands up my shirt.”

You blink up at him, chest still heaving. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” So you do. You rub your palms up under the lip of his shirt, smoothing them against his sides, his chest, his stomach, which tenses as if your hands are cold. With a gasp, he drops his head into the curve of your shoulder, his breath hot, almost burning. You wonder if his fangs are out. He shifts, pressing up against your chest, deeper into your neck, rocking his hips once, and he sucks on that soft place beneath your earlobe, making you keen.

“Can I see them?” You blurt out. “B-before–,” your voice catches and you swallow the desire in your throat. “Before you bite me.” 

Max’s shoulders still. You’re both breathing heavily and you stare up at your ceiling, afraid to meet his horrified face. Maybe you’d gone too far. Asking to be bitten was one thing, but maybe he didn’t want you to actually watch when he –

“Really?”

He peels back from you, his elbows locked out on either side of your head. He meets your gaze with trepidation and . . . awe.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes, please. I even want to–,”

He’s staring at your mouth like if he thinks hard enough, exactly what he wants to hear will come out. 

“You wanna what?” His voice is deeper than gravel, lower than the graves of the earth.

“I want to touch them, Max.” You’ve never felt more exposed beneath him as he stares down at you. His hair is mussed, as if as shocked as he is. 

You think his jaw drops in surprise, but in the glint of the candlelight, you see them shine. White, glistening fangs. Slowly, he parts his mouth even more, jaw opening, and his upper lip raises a quarter of a fraction of an inch. 

In the far back of your mind, in your undeveloped lizard brain, the thing that squeezes out primal, dripping fear when confronted with things unknown, it’s pumping adrenaline. It’s working overtime. It’s going to catch fire. It’s screaming, begging, sobbing at you to run. To run fast and as far as you can because this? This thing that has you pinned beneath him – is a predator. It’s an apex monster at the top of the food chain, a precise killing machine designed specifically to prey upon your weaknesses. You can feel your muscles tighten, adrenaline roaring in your veins, you actually see his face better in the dark light as your pupils dilate, every fight-or-flight instinct you’ve ever possessed knotting together in a snarling, hissing, petrified void, all saying one thing:

Run, you idiot, run. Run. Run! 

But you don’t. You can’t. 

When you first discovered that Max was a vampire you asked him if he’d ever hypnotized you and he said no. And then you made him swear on point of stake that he would never, ever do that to you. 

You wondered vaguely if now he had broken his promise. Because you cannot look away. 

You exhale shakily, blinking up to his glistening wet mouth. With a trembling hand, you reach for his cheek, sliding it along his jaw, over the top of his upper lip, and then down. Down a single white fang, an obscene mockery of your own canine teeth. You’re surprised to find it smooth, just as hard as any of your own teeth, but you continue your thumb down to the very point of it. 

“Careful–,” he warns, the sound garbled, and a second too late. 

You prick your thumb on the razor edge of his fang. He shudders, head dropping between his shoulders. 

Wide-eyed and mortified, you immediately suck your thumb into your mouth at the first well of blood. 

“Max, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t thinking! I–”

“No,” he says gently, but his voice is hoarse. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He lifts his head, eyes unreadable, but the candlelight brings color back to them, as if they had been consumed by shadow. “It’s okay.” Gently, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, easing your thumb out of your mouth. Watching you for any hint of rejection or fear, Max guides your thumb, wet with your spit and a dribble of blood, between his lips, between his fangs, and smears his tongue across the wound. He tries to maintain eye contact, but he groans, eyes fluttering, his hips swinging down. The noise he makes sends static directly into the pit of your stomach like a hot flare. You can’t fight it; you clench down on nothing. 

Holy fuck, maybe this was a bad idea. 

“Max,” you whine softly. He hums around your thumb, tongue lapping at the tip, eyes still closed as though he was drunk and trying to get the room to stop spinning. Finally, he parts his lips and removes your finger from his mouth. You can feel his rock-solid erection pressing into your pelvis. 

He breathes, slowly, as though he was focusing on every molecule of air entering and leaving his lungs. Finally, Max lifts his eyes to you again and, again, you feel that white hot spark down between your legs. His fingers around your wrist loosen, thumb and forefinger catching around the cuff of your sleeve and slowly push it down. 

“Color?” He husks, his breath coasting over your exposed wrist.

“G-green,” you stutter out. You know it can’t be helping him but your heart is pounding, rushing, vibrating behind the thick wall of your sternum. That same adrenaline that told you to run before has now locked you flat on your back, a different kind of instinct taking over. Your thighs ache to drop open around him. Take me take me take me.

He lowers his head to your blue, pulsating vein and lets the skin rub against his smooth incisor. Your back arches just off the mattress as if he’s fucking you with his tongue. 

“Is it going to hurt?” 

He’s not looking at you now, every sense within him entirely anchored to your wrist. But he shakes his head steadily, as if staving off sleep.

“I won’t let it.” 

A prick. Nothing more. Nothing more hideous or crude than a shot in the arm. And yet you know it’s deeper, closer to bone, through flesh and sinewy muscle, into the deep thready vein. You know it’s deeper because a red ribbon of blood trickles down the flesh of your forearm. You watch it with fascination, your vision going a bit blurry as a sense of peace and ease rises up and greets you. You’re not lightheaded, but there is an ease, a delight, as if something had dulled your senses to the world. Your face breaks into a smile, even though you don’t feel your cheeks moving. 

His licks are gentle, curious, tongue a little cold against your flesh. With your other hand, you stroke his neck, then tangle with his hair. You scratch him like you would the family dog.

“Good boy, Max, you’re such a good boy.” 

And then the noise that’s been hovering at the edge of your awareness ratchets so loud you can’t ignore it any more. A buzzing, a humming, as though a thousand heartbeats were all racing in sync with one another. You don’t know where it’s coming from or what it is, but you don’t mind it – it’s soothing, sweet, peaceful. You ease your hand from his hair, back down his neck, to the knot of his spine and –

“Max, are you purring?” It’s undeniable. His entire chest is vibrating as if powered by a jet engine. 

He muffles a response into your wrist, tongue more forcefully pressing into your skin. 

“Oh my god, you are! Vampires purr?” You giggle. “If we do nothing else, figuring out you’re capable of purring has been entirely worth it.” 

Again a muffled grunt. Your heart beat skips for a moment – what if he doesn’t stop – and then another pinch and you hear the faint chunk of his fangs retracting. The humming from his chest softens, quiets smoothly, fading to silence, as he wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve. You giggle louder, that pleasant, sweet feeling still cradling you like a cloud, as he sits up from the bed. 

“Okay, now I’m kind of offended you never purred when I sucked your dick. Or that time I put on that strap-on! Or –,”

“Quiet you,” he grumbles with a bit of a smirk as he kneels down beside the bed and using the white towel beneath you, he wipes your wrist clean. Then, with his head hung down, he swipes his thumb against his mouth again. 

“What are you–,”

The pad of his thumb bright red, he gently brushes his blood over the two pin-prick holes and, to your utter shock, the skin knits itself together. You watch, transfixed, as any evidence that he ever bit you slowly disappears. With the wounds sealed and gone, Max presses a kiss to your wrist. He stands up and goes to pour the disinfectant on your dresser into one of the cotton balls. You sit up and you emerge instantly from that cloud of serenity. You’re clear headed and awake, that adrenaline rush gone. You rub your wrist, the dried blood making the skin there tacky and sticky. 

“That was . . .” You swallow. You know you didn’t orgasm but you still feel that lingering pleasantness, that almost syrup-y haze. 

“How are you feeling?” Max asks over his shoulder, his frown serious. He sits back on the bed and gently takes your wrist from your fingers. His gaze keeps flickering from the dried blood to your face as he cleans your wrist and forearm. “Any pain? Dizziness? Nausea? Do you want to eat something – or drink –,”

“Max.” His mouth snaps shut, his brown eyes open and pleading and concerned. Something dislodges from your chest and pricks your eyes. This is only the first step in getting to what you really want, but you feel infinitely closer to him, like you’ve peeled back a layer and found something as warm and as comforting as sunshine. “Max, honey, that was perfect.”

You all but fall into him, your hand tugging on his collar to bring him into your atmosphere, your orbit, and you kiss him with fervent urgency. He groans in relief, in surprise, his hand cradling your jaw. You pull back, actually a little dizzy, but you’re quite sure that has nothing to do with blood loss. 

“Yeah?” he murmurs against your lips and you nod before kissing him again. He smiles, his thumb petting your cheek as if to calm you. “Good. That’s really good, baby. You did so well.” 

You scoff. “I don’t think I’ve ever been less of a participant in something so sexual.”

His eyebrow arches. “You got off on that?”

“Fair question. I guess you have to ask . . . since I wasn’t the one literally purring with delight!”

He rolls his eyes, huffing. “That’s actually the reason I didn’t want to do this. You’re never going to let this down.” 

You pout at him, tilting your head. “Aw, poor pussy.” 

He plucks a kiss from your cheek and snags the cookie box from your dresser. You realize how starving you are and you nearly tear open the box.

“So you’re really good, with everything?” 

You nod, waiting until another time to ask him about that rather orgasmic haze you found yourself in. 

He bites his lip as he watches you lick chocolate from your bottom lip.

“Then it’s off to second base we go.” 

Next | Series Masterlist

[nakachuchu]

Gemini | Gojo Satoru

SYNOPSIS: Other halves are difficult to find and more difficult to keep.

READER: female

WORDS: 1.8k

WRITTEN: 07/26/2023

"Ah, seems like I was a bit late," you said with a soft exhale, referring to Gojo Satoru's dead body.

"Hmm?"

Fushiguro Toji's gaze fell on you as you reached behind your head. He held the Heavenly Spear in his hands, bending over to lunge.

Your hands traveled down your head, unzipping the layers of your flesh until your body was split in half.

A leg stepped out of your body, then a hand reached out to grip your arm for stability.

The body let out a cheer. "Finally! Big sis, 's been forever since I've been out!"

"Sorry, Kana-chan," you said.

"It's all right, Big sis! Who're we fightin'?"

You smiled as your body zipped itself back up and your little sister turned around to stand next to you.

"The big man in front of us," you answered. "This is a special request from Tengen himself."

Kana clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Don't see why we gotta be helpin' that fuckin' tree."

"I know, Kana, but as sorceresses, we must protect those who need us."

"Whatever," she muttered.

You smiled fondly at your little sister's attitude. Though brash, you knew she had a good heart.

"Let's make this quick," you said, lifting your arms and summoning your cursed energy. Bright purple flames erupted around your hands as you activated your technique, Hellfire.

Kana grinned, her own pink aura flaring up around her. She always loved using her abilities, especially when she got to fight alongside you.

Fushiguro narrowed his eyes, gripping the spear tightly. He had not expected to face two opponents. But it did not matter - he would cut you both down.

With blinding speed, Fushiguro lunged forward, thrusting the spear toward you. But you were ready. Ducking beneath the spearhead, you thrust your palms out, blasting Fushiguro with a wave of purple fire.

He jumped back, managing to avoid the worst of the flames. But before he could counterattack, Kana was on him. Her fists flew as she pummeled him with a flurry of glowing pink punches.

Fushiguro attempted to block and dodge, but your little sister's attacks came fast and furious.

While you were elegant and regal, your sister was a rain of hail, having the stamina of an ostrich.

While you two had similar techniques, the true power was in your differences. Kana never got tired. No matter who the opponent was, the steady beat and rhythm of her attacks never faltered.

Your true power laid in not being able to sustain injuries, meaning that death was escapable for you. You were just a hollow shell when Kana was out, but no opponent could reach her.

Seeing an opening, you summoned a whip of purple fire and lashed out, wrapping it around Fushiguro's ankle. With a sharp pull, you yanked his leg out from under him, sending the assassin crashing to the ground.

In a flash, he grabbed the Heavenly Spear and swept it in a wide arc toward Kana's legs. She nimbly jumped over it, but the move had been a feint. Fushiguro reversed direction and thrust the spear toward your heart with lightning speed.

You barely had time to react. Twisting sideways, you avoided a fatal blow, but the spear still sliced deep into your side.

The spear wound on your side slowly knit itself back together as an eerie purple glow surrounded you.

It wasn't supposed to be possible. You shouldn't have been able to stitch yourself back together because of the Heavenly Spear, but you did.

"Are you sure about this, Fushiguro Toji? Are you prepared to die and leave your children alone?"

He stared at you coldly.

"You can still leave now and see them as if nothing happened."

He grinned. "Over my dead body."

"I see. That is a shame. I don't enjoy the idea of taking a father away from his children," you said softly. "Kill him, Kana."

The purple flames on your fingertips were being sucked toward Kana like a vacuum. They combined with her pink flames to form a scythe made of magenta flames.

She twirled the scythe around before swinging it in front of her. She grinned, teeth and all at Fushiguro before lunging at him.

As the two fought, you walked toward Gojo and knelt next to him. You let out a soft sigh, then closed his eyes with your fingers.

"Big sis, I'm done!"

You stood up and brushed the dirt off your clothes, then smiled at the sight of Fushiguro's dead body.

"Great job, Kana! Make sure to take care of the spear."

The scythe in her hands disappeared and she grabbed the Heavenly Spear from his dead hand, then opened her mouth. Slowly, the scythe went further and further down her throat until it was completely gone.

The back of your body unzipped itself and you turned around. Your insides were red and made of tissue as a normal body would be.

Kana skipped toward you and laid herself into the shape of your body.

"See you later, Big sis!"

"See you then, Kana-chan."

"What the fuck was that?"

You were startled, eyes blinking as they focused on Gojo who was somehow alive. You tilted your head to the side. The only sound was the sound of your body zipping up.

"Did your body just open?" he asked.

"I think the question I should be asking is how you're alive," you retorted. "And as your senior, you should be using honorifics, Gojo."

"Should I know you?"

"I graduated a year before you came to Jujutsu Tech," you explained. "Where is the Star Plasma vessel?"

"Here!" shouted Geto from the other side of the crater Gojo created.

Spotting Amanai by his side and not with Master Tengen, you let out a laugh.

"Oh, you are so screwed," you said. "You're letting her go?"

"It's her choice," said Gojo.

You hummed. "Well, whatever. I'm only here because of Yaga. He's a good teacher, isn't he?"

The two boys blinked at you before grinning.

"Be well. Stay alive," you said to Gojo before jumping over the crater. "I won't always be there to save your asses."

Even though you had said what was supposed to be a goodbye, you got stuck with personally teaching Gojo how to be a responsible sorcerer and how to become stronger.

"I'm only twenty-two!" you exclaimed.

All the elegance you held previously had disappeared. Gojo absolutely wore you out. He didn't care about any honorifics or being responsible.

"Why did I get stuck with you?" you cried. "Please, God, help me."

Gojo was pinky deep in his nostril, picking out loose boogers.

"Don't be so dramatic, Y/N."

"I hate you," you said.

"So how'd you get that other body, anyways?" he questioned, flicking a booger in a random direction.

Your annoyance dissipated and turned into fondness.

"Kana and I were actual twins in the womb," you said softly. "Since birth, I had been blessed with cursed energy. I ate her in the womb, but she progressed in life with me. She is my technique and my other half. I love her dearly."

"Can she hear us?"

"No, not really. She knows enough whenever she's let out, but I'm the original body. I'm the host."

"Doesn't she hate you for that?" Gojo asked.

Your fingers twitched. You wished she would hate you for it. She was supposed to live too. Maybe the both of you would be normal teenagers now with boyfriends and friends to hang out with, instead of exorcising curses and killing people.

But because you were the one alive, she fed off whatever you believed in. To her, she is alive. She is your real sister and you loved her for it, so she loved you too.

"No, she doesn't," you said. "Let's get back to training."

Despite Gojo's lack of manners, you couldn't help but feel fond of him as the months passed. His raw power and talent were undeniable, and underneath his cocky exterior, you sensed a good heart.

Slowly, your irritation turned to fondness as you got to know the man behind the arrogance. You saw how deeply he cared for his friends, though he'd rather die than admit it.

Gojo changed too, maturing bit by bit under your guidance. He still loved to push your buttons, but his teasing took on a more flirtatious tone. A lingering glance here, a casual touch there.

But you were still older than him. It couldn't be anything more. His little flirty remarks were just that. It was a little puppy love.

So, you left.

You claimed that Gojo had learned everything he could from you and you left without a goodbye.

Gojo didn't see you or hear from you again until the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. It had been a decade since then.

"Y/N."

You softly smiled. "Still not using honorifics?"

He shrugged. "Never did back then."

He had just killed his best friend and the only place he could think to go was your room. You reached for his hand and smiled when you felt his skin.

"Let's sit," you offered.

The two of you sat on the edge of the bed in silence. You waited for him to be ready to talk — if he was ever ready. But you didn't mind if he never spoke.

"Why did you leave all those years ago?"

If you hadn't left, maybe Geto wouldn't have left either. Maybe you would have been able to get through to both of them.

Geto was his other half, much like Kana was yours. The four of you had your own Gemini.

Amanai had only lived for an extra week until Q wanted her dead, even after the full moon. She had no purpose anymore and only disrupted everything set in motion.

"You're grown now," you said, patting his hand. "You know why."

He pursed his lips. "You're only five years older than me."

"At the time, those five years were big. Besides, you did learn almost everything from me already."

"Not everything," he said as he placed your hand on his cheek.

He leaned into it and looked at you with those piercing blue eyes. You attempted to pull back, but he only gripped you harder.

"You spent months alone with me," he said. "And then you left, even though you knew how I felt about you. I don't like people, Y/N, but I liked you and you left."

"I'm sorry — "

"Your apologies don't do anything. They don't make me feel better and they won't change anything," he spat out.

During this spat, you didn't notice that you were leaning back while he was leaning forward until your back hit the mattress.

He removed your hand from his cheek and placed your hand at your side in order to tuck his nose into the crook of your neck.

"I trusted you."

I loved you.

"I trusted you too."

I loved you too.

He nuzzled into you. "Can we stay like this?"

"Yeah, let's stay like this."

[lunawings]

Hello~ what’s your opinion in the price of the new AiPri toys? (Specially the microphone)

I think they got into their head like…that’s WAAAY too much, just compare the Precure toy prices

Oh? Hmm... let me see.

9,350 yen? That is a lot. But... it does seem like it can do a lot of things. It's got a color screen? It's detachable? It's got TONS of minigames? It can connect to both arcade games?

Most of the Wonderful Precure toys are cheaper, yeah, but they probably have limited function in comparison and you'd have to buy multiple to complete the set. I think the AiPri mic looks like it's aiming to be multiple toys combined into one.

Like, in the past, Pretty Series has usually had two toys per series: A glowing toy (mic, Cyalume Charm, Jewel Pact) plus a toy with a screen (phone toy, watch, rosette, Design Palette...). But this thing does it all? So it's somewhat justified, I think.

Also the yen is super weak right now so it only costs $64.50 in USD (yikes).

I mean... I'm not going to buy it. But is it worth it if you are an AiPri super fan? ...Maybe.

No idea if it will be successful or not, though. My conclusion is: Yes it is expensive for Japan, but at the same time it's not totally unjustified if it's as functional a toy as it seems. Do people like AiPri in Japan enough to spend that much? I do not know.

...Wait. I was just about to post this when I realized I was only looking at the Wonderful Precure transformation toys. The original list price for the Kiraniko Trunk is 11,500 yen!? For that TINY little thing!? The heck does that do!?!?