#there's a sea of comments on just about everything. but it feels very public and embarrassing to leave them

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

grrr..... i need.... to write...... LETTERS!!!!!!!! *dozens of objects go hurtling around the room*

[omnom-obeyme]

You are the first person I've seen do nsfw requests for the demons and can i just say awoof awoof bark bark ESPECIALLY tickled that you have stories where the reader tops, it is so hard to find dom!reader!!! May I humbly request mc subtly teasing the demons in public? Like maybe rubbing their leg under the table or whispering naughty things into their ear during class?

It is a STRUGGLE to find good dom!reader fics or even fics where the MC isn't implicitly submissive 😭😭 It genuinely annoys me so bad, and it's part of the reason I wanted to start writing again. I hope you like it! And please keep sending requests in :) it makes me happy to get them <3

Oh, You Little--

Pairings: OM demons x reader (separate)

Warnings: suggestive content, 18+, nothing particularly explicit, reader wears a skirt in Lucifer's section, feminization in Levi's section, everything is obviously happening in public

Lucifer's having a pretty chill day, honestly. For once, his workload is manageable, his brothers haven't caused any chaos, and there's no life-threatening catastrophe on the horizon. Unfortunately for him, you're an absolute chaos agent.

You finally got a RAD skirt to replace those itchy pants you've been wearing since you arrived in the Devildom. It ends just below mid-thigh on you. It's cute! You feel really cute. And it seems a certain demon thinks you look cute, too.

How can you really be expected to not tease him at this point? Lucifer's eyes were already lingering on your thighs at breakfast this morning, and you weren't even doing anything.

Now, you're on your way to one of your Devildom history classes. You just so happen to share the class with Lucifer, and he usually walks with you to class. Today, you drop the books you're carrying out in front of you, so you can walk ahead of him and bend down in the crowded hallway.

Lucifer's breathing hard when you stand back up and rejoin him at his side, your breezy "sorry about that, I've been oddly clumsy today" doing nothing to steady him. His gloved hands are clenched into fists, and there's a pink flush crawling up his pale face.

"How unfortunate. Perhaps you need to rest for the rest of the day. Shall I escort you to my office?"

Is Mammon still breathing? Someone should check on him. He's been gripping at his pants and staring hard at the wood of his desk for the past half an hour.

You and him sit in the very back of your potions class, and the room is so big that the teacher can't really see that far back into it. You take advantage of that fact all the time. Today, you've got your chin propped up on Mammon's shoulder.

It was innocent at first, as most things are with you, but you just can't resist. Teasing Mammon is too easy, honestly.

It slowly devolves from slightly suggestive comments such as "You've got such pretty hands, Mamms. Quick fingers, too," to "Baby, your mouth is so cute. You'll let me fuck myself with it later, right?"

Mammon's basically frozen in place, and his face is hot. He's genuinely sweating. He's also painfully hard in his pants, but he can't even do anything about it at this point.

"T-Treasure, you gotta stop...please, I can't take anymore."

Levi's probably going to die. In a dress, no less. You finally convince him to go to a convention in a painstakingly accurate Ruri Hana cosplay, and this is how you treat him?!

You've been going around and introducing him to people as your girlfriend and making comments about what a pretty girl he is. He's trying his hardest not to melt into the floor or run away and dive into the sea, but it's getting harder and harder as the day goes on.

When a demon approaches him and cheerfully compliments his cosplay, he already wants to hide behind you. So when you chime in with a "Right? Isn't he just the prettiest girl ever?" and squeeze his cheeks, well...

The squeak he lets out is completely undignified, and he hides his face against your shoulder. He clings onto you tightly. The heat from his cheeks bleeds through your clothes.

He whines when you coo at him. "Y-you're evil," he complains against your shoulder. And, honestly, you'd feel bad if his hips weren't pressing into your ass.

"Aww, honey...you need to go home, hmm? I'll take you home, baby girl."

You and Satan have been holed up in the library for ages as you prep for an upcoming exam. You need a break, and you're certain the blonde sitting at your side does, too.

You shift in your seat a little and set your book down. You hum and lean forward, pretending to be engrossed in the text.

Satan immediately tenses when your hand brushes his thigh, and he glances over at you out of the corner of his eye. When he sees that you're not even looking at him, he releases a sigh and pats your hand.

It's not until you start rubbing up and down and begin full-on massaging his thigh that he starts squirming. He presses his legs together and drops his head down to look at his lap. His arms tuck in tight to his sides, and he tries not to moan out loud when your hand ventures just a little too far up.

"MC, this is a library. Be decent."

You just grin and bring your hand up to tease the button of his pants. You're fine with playing the long game when it's so beautiful to watch Satan break.

You and Asmo are in the middle of the dancefloor at The Fall, and the two of you are captivating everyone there. You can't resist the urge to slide your hands over his body and grab at his waist.

Asmo does not give a FUCK about being in public at all. He's completely shameless. Honestly, you groping him while the bass from the music thumps in the background and demons watch on turns him on even more.

He leans into your touch, arches his back, and lets out a breathy whine when your hands squeeze his waist.

He'll beg for you in public. He doesn't care if people see him all glossy-eyed and pink-cheeked, desperate for you on the dancefloor.

You don't really get the chance to keep it up for too long before Asmo's leading you to a secluded corner.

"MC~ You're such a meanie! Pretty please, keep touching me?"

Beel's so happy when you agree to get dinner with him. Just you and him: no brothers, no responsibilities, no homework. He's munching away on his third loaf of bread when he feels your foot tap his under the table.

Of course, he brushes it off as an accident and continues perusing the menu. He's going to order everything anyway

The waiter comes back over to take your orders. You order your own food and hand the waiter your menu. When it's Beel's turn to order, though, you let your foot travel up the inside of his calf. It's a ghost of a touch, but it's enough to have Beel blushing and stumbling over his words.

When the waiter leaves, he gives you a look that's akin to a kicked puppy. He's not mad, he's just embarrassed. It's adorable.

Obviously, you have to do it again. And again. Each time, you get bolder and your foot travels higher until it's trailing along the inside of his thigh. He looks like he's about to chew through his own lip if it keeps going at this rate.

"MC, I'm still hungry...but I don't know if I want to eat more food or go home with you more..."

It's not uncommon for Belphie to fall asleep while cuddled up to you. In fact, it's more strange to see you alone in the RAD cafeteria than it is to see him draped over you and snoring away.

When he comes over to you today, you pull him into your lap instead of letting him sit down at your side.

He immediately blushes but lets out an annoyed huff. Of course he's pretending that his heart didn't just do a little flip in his chest. His head nestles against your shoulder, and his arms wrap around your middle in a secure hold.

Nothing about his usual plans change until he feels one of your hands slip under his shirt to rub his back while the other rests on his upper thigh. His breath stutters against your neck, and you smile triumphantly.

Usually, he'd be snoring away by now, but your touch sent jolts along his nerves that he can't ignore. It's really not fair. Pillows aren't supposed to tease :( Still, he doesn't really care about being in public as long as it's you who's holding him.

"H-hey! Watch your hands...I'm trying to sleep here..."

Never once has he regretted bringing you to the Devildom, but tonight is the closest he's come. You're mean. Evil, honestly. Cruel, even.

He's had you on his arm all night, the crown jewel of the exchange program. In between exchanges with nobles and regular citizens of the Devildom alike, you've been tormenting him.

"Did you get new pants, Dia?" you'd whisper after urging him to lean down. "Your butt looks amazing tonight."

No one questions the reasons why the prince is whinier than usual or why he's sulking. He's always had a problem with shirking his duties, but all he wants to do right now is take you away and drop to his knees in front of you. He has an image to uphold, MC! Why are you being so mean :(((

Another noble approaches the two of you just as your hand makes a swift retreat from his ass. Your face is as pleasant as usual, nothing amiss about your demeanor while Diavolo is flustered and bashful.

Once the party's over and the two of you are alone, he's folding his big form down and pressing his face against your thighs.

"Please have mercy on me, MC."

Barbatos doesn't flinch when you saunter up to him and wrap an arm around his waist. He doesn't react when your hand slides under the jacket of his uniform, either. You don't even feel his breath hitch.

Of course, you have to up your game a little. You don't leave Barbatos's side at all. Your hands are always on him, whether they're holding his waist, brushing imaginary lint off his shoulders, patting his back, or sliding down to subtly and greedily grab his hips when he bends to pour tea.

He won't react or say anything to you at the party. As the night goes on, though, he has a perpetual flush on his cheeks, and his tummy keeps clenching every time your fingers rub circles into his hip.

Diavolo notices Barbatos's pink cheeks and assumes his butler is sick. Barbatos gets relieved for the night, and you make up a quick excuse to follow after him.

Once you're both tucked away in his room, Barbatos hugs you from behind and lets out a shuddery breath against your neck.

"Please, MC. Don't be cruel. Finish what you started."

Mephistopheles would never say it out loud, but he loves that you've been helping with the newspaper more. He likes being able to bounce ideas off of you, and he finds your formerly irritating presence soothing.

Until you get it in that mind of yours to mess with him, that is. He's not embarrassed to be with you, but he's a prideful demon. He doesn't really enjoy PDA.

During a meeting, he asks you to read something over for him. You smirk to yourself and lean down over his shoulder to read the document in front of him. His shoulders go stiff, and he shivers as your breath hits his shoulder.

You take your sweet time reading. You're rather enjoying the closeness and the way his cologne smells.

"Hm, yeah, it looks good," you murmur in his ear. His fingers clench around his thighs in a near bruising grip, and he has to bite back a shameless moan.

"Thank you for reading that for me, MC. I'm so very appreciative. That's all for this meeting. Thank you all for coming," he says tightly. He's on his feet and leading you out of the clubroom before you can say a word.

do not use my headers or repost my work without my permission. art and characters belong to the obey me franchise and are not my original works.

[hlficlibrary]

HL Fic Library 📸 Famous/Not Famous Fics

Remember to leave kudos and a comment on the fics you enjoyed to show your appreciation! You can find the library's other recs here.

🩷 Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics {M, 113k}

As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

🩷 In A Twinkling by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom {E, 98k}

Louis’ Nan just wants him to be happy, to settle down with a nice boy, and bring him around for Christmas.

Louis is too busy with his career to bother about relationships, but in an attempt to appease his Nan, he sends her photoshopped pictures of him and his pretend boyfriend, Harry. The fact that the man in the pictures is none other than Harry Styles, world famous Gucci model—and recurrent star of Louis’ fantasies—is irrelevant. It’s not like their paths will ever cross…

So it comes as somewhat of a surprise when Louis returns home for Christmas and walks into his Nan’s sitting room only to find the real-life Harry Styles happily chatting away with the grey-haired ladies of his Nan’s Crochet Circle.

Featuring Niall and Liam as Louis’ childhood friends, Harry as the painfully perfect man of Louis’ dreams, Zayn as Harry’s very protective best mate, Louis’ Nan as a well-meaning matchmaker, and Louis as a guy who thinks he’s happy with his life, until a certain someone shows him what he’s been missing.

🩷 Emperor's New Clothes by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships {E, 92k}

The fact that Louis’s most precious belonging was a cat with a face like thunder and an uncanny ability to cover every single inch of Louis’s clothing with cat hair was something that Louis chose not to think about too much.

or: Harry’s a pop star and Louis isn’t, and there’s a non-disclosure agreement where there used to be a relationship.

🩷 Cameras Flashing by @juliusschmidt {E, 81k}

With his breakout single platinum three times over and his second album still selling out in stores around the world, Louis Tomlinson has made it to the top. However, his position as Pop Heartthrob of the Decade is threatened by the edgier, more artistic Zayn, who happens to be releasing an album a week after Louis’ upcoming third. Louis needs something groundbreaking- scandalous, even- to push past him in the charts. Much to Louis’ dismay, his PR team calls in The Sexpert.

Consulting with PR firm Shady, Lane and Associates pays the bills so that Harry Styles can spend his down time doing what he really loves: poring over data. On weekends and late into the evenings, he researches gender, presentation, and sexual orientation, analysing the longitudinal study that is his father’s life’s work. That is, until his newest client, the popstar with the fascinating secret, drags him off his couch and frighteningly close to the spotlight.

As the album’s release date approaches, will Tomlinson and Styles be able to pull off the most risky PR scheme of the millennium and beat Zayn in sales or will the heat of their feelings for each other compromise everything?

🩷 A Thousand Miles From Comfort by @littlelouishiccups {E, 74k}

It wasn’t like Louis was Lindsay Lohan or Justin Beiber. He’d had one fucking meltdown and a handful of public drunken accidents. And now he could never screw up ever again. He hit the STOP button on the treadmill and matched his pace as it slowed to a stop.

“It’s not break time yet!” Harry told Louis, tapping his watch with a stern expression. “Come on, you were doing so well! Don’t quit now! Ten more minutes and then you can have a break!”

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” Louis spat. “It’s not anything you did, okay? I just… I don’t know. I can’t do this. I hate playing the stupid media game. That’s what all of this is! There’s no point.”

  In which Louis is a closeted gay actor and a recovering addict with a troubled past. Harry is the personal trainer who helps him get his life back in shape.

With Liam as Louis' childhood best friend, Zayn as a famous R&B artist, and Niall as a fanboy.

(aka the trainer au)

🩷 another dream but always you by you_explode / @nobodymoves {M, 66k}

Harry is a Dreamwalker; he has the ability to visit people in their dreams and help put them on the right path. He's assigned to Louis, who's struggling after the break-up of his band. It's an unusual assignment from the beginning; Harry has a crush on Louis, and Louis's subconscious immediately decides Harry is the love of his life. When Dreamers cast Harry as their love interest, he can usually redirect them, but Louis is insistent on being Harry's boyfriend, and despite knowing they have no future, Harry wants to keep up the charade.

🩷 My Sweetest Downfall by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou {M, 42k}

Louis is a retired guardian angel. After the death of his last charge, he became jaded. Humans die—what use is prolonging the inevitable?

He's more than happy to forget about humanity altogether until one day, when Louis is pulled from his desk job for a new assignment: protect One Direction's Harry Styles. It doesn't help that there's something about Harry that Louis can't resist, and it's making him question everything he's ever known. Humans are strictly off limits, and breaking that rule means risking everything, but Harry just might be worth it.

This is a story about forgiveness and discovery, featuring an angel who wants to be a little more human and a human who is so much more than he seems.

🩷 hymns for restless stars by @turnyourankle {E, 37k}

Every Holiday season Louis has his pupils write down their Christmas wishes for class. He's read almost every wish under the sun, but one girl's wish takes him by surprise. It's for her uncle not to be alone anymore. It's not a wild wish by any means, but Louis had no idea that former teen idol Harry Styles was lonely in the first place.

🩷 But Why Wonder, Why Wonder? by @100percentsassy {E, 30k}

The one where Marcel Styles has improbably landed a job in the fashion industry, and Louis Tomlinson is the actor-turned-lingerie-designer he’s been infatuated with for years.

🩷 Bitter Ends Turn Sweet by @allwaswell16 {E, 30k}

It had been four years since Harry first heard the song his ex wrote about him and far longer since they broke up. He forgave Louis long ago, and now his life was focused on his career, his family, and especially his son, Max. But Louis was back in Chicago, after all this time, and he’s not an easy man to ignore.

Or a songfic inspired by the song Chicago

🩷 Rewriting the Melody by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13 {T, 26}

Louis doesn’t get put in One Direction. This time, the path to true love takes the long way round, including singing in toilet cubicles, fruit baskets, and long distance band counselling from someone who really doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just wants to keep talking to Harry.

🩷 Singing To Tiny Dancer by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite {E, 22k}

“Yes!” Harry punched a fist into the air. He laughed at the confusion that wrinkled the little space between Louis’ brows.

“What?”

“You’re flirting with me,” Harry smiled, letting his dimples pop.

Louis’ face went blank for two seconds and then he rolled his eyes, one side of his mouth lifting. “Am not.”

“You soooo are,” Harry sang out, poking him in the shoulder. “You like me.”

“I was simply showing you how to actually bring… what did you call it? Your A-game.”

Harry adopted a patronizing expression, sure it would piss him off. “And you did great. Really.”

“Oi, fuck off,” Louis said, but he was actually laughing now. Outright. It was gorgeous and Harry wanted to live in this moment forever. It was the very best one he’d experienced. He wanted to always remember the image of Louis’ crinkled eyes, the sound of his breathy giggles, the smell of citrus that radiated off him as he swayed in his amusement. And Louis didn’t even know his name.

Or ... When everything gets to be a bit too much for A-list actor Louis Tomlinson, he runs back to the town he had never really called home and the boy who was the only one he did.

🩷 Then We Talk Slow by @letsjustsee {E, 20k}

The picture showed Harry smiling widely (with a fucking dimple) at the camera, his glossy brown curls situated artfully around his shoulders. Louis couldn’t see his whole outfit, but it seemed to consist of a pink, floral button-up with most of the buttons undone. Louis could also detect the dark outlines of tattoos on his chest, although he couldn’t quite make out what they were underneath the shirt. What he could make out was that his own heartrate seemed to have picked up significantly. Shit. This was so not good. Not only had Louis drunkenly sent messages in a deliberate attempt to interact with this man, he was now insanely attracted to him without ever having met him in person. Maybe Liam was right – drunk tweeting really was a horrible, rotten idea.

A famous/non-famous AU in which Louis banters back and forth with his new record company on Twitter, only to find out that Harry is the man behind the tweets.

🩷 Play (series) by @taggiecb {E, 19k}

Louis loves working towards a goal. His friends say having a goal in life is the only thing that keeps him sane some days. Right now he is working towards his before twenty five bucket list, and fate must have been smiling on him the day he won tickets for a show at Wembly, getting into one of the locker rooms is something he will have to think about later. Plus it doesn't hurt that the show he's seeing is his favourite celebrity crush Harry Styles.

🩷 Confessions of a Fabricated Alpha by @jaerie {E, 18k}

Hearing it now almost made Harry hang up the phone, but he sighed and pressed one to be connected to one of their alpha operators. He’d already committed to this low point in his life and hanging up meant he couldn’t wallow in it and he was in a wallowing mood.

“You are being connected to alpha operator number forty-four. Rogue will be with you shortly.”

The name was said in a different voice like a voice mailbox someone might have on their office phone. It made him snort out a laugh at how stupid it all was. It felt like a budget sex line.

 or famous alpha Harry Styles has a secret and paying an alpha to roleplay a relationship with him over the phone is the only way he can be himself.

🩷 Be Mine? by @softfonds {E, 11k}

Getting dumped the week before Valentine's Day wasn't in Harry's plans, and neither was being dragged to a concert to forget about it. But a sign Zayn brings manages to turn his night around in more ways than he hoped for.

🩷 More Than a Mic Drop by @haztobegood {E, 7k}

“You dropped the mic last night.”

“Oh, yeah. I did.” Louis gives a little shrug. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his baggy grey sweatpants.

“That was really careless.” His tone is very stern, unlike his usual bubbly and helpful voice when he suggests Louis try singing a chorus for the third time as he adjusts the sound mix again. Harry levels him a serious look and suddenly the room feels too hot. “You could have broken the mic and we don’t have a lot of spares.”

🩷 I Remember (The Distances We Covered) by @lululawrence {NR, 5k}

@ColleenisStylish: @LouisTomlinson my dad thinks he’s sat next to you on a train from Edinburgh right now, so if you could confirm that would be amazing. His name is Harry and he’s just had white wine and says you’re on red x

Louis glanced at the glass of red wine in his hand before taking a quick look around those nearest him on the train. Just across the aisle in a seat facing him was a man with graying, curly hair falling into his face yet somehow staying above his glasses. He was reading a book as he tapped his foot, seemingly oblivious to everything around him, and there sitting on the table in front of him was a half glass of white wine.

🩷 That’s the way love goes by bella28 {T, 4k}

“Why would someone attend a concert when they have a soulmate goose?” Harry questioned his sister bewildered. “Everyone knows that they can get very aggressive. Why did security even let this person enter the venue, they must know what a risk this is!”

His sister didn’t seem to know the answer. They were both aware that soulmate geese were sent to people that didn’t get their shit together with their soulmate. Hopeless cases in Harry’s opinion. Who didn’t recognise their soulmate when they standing were right in front of them?

OR: In a world, where soulmate geese are sent to the people who can't figure out who their soulmate is, Harry finds himself stuck with a goose when he is attending a concert of his favourite artist Louis Tomlinson.

🩷 Touch the Sky and Kiss the Sun by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup {T, 2k}

Louis Tomlinson knows without a shadow of a doubt that Harry Styles is his soulmate.

Harry Styles, Louis is virtually certain, is completely unaware of this fact.

[swanimagines]

Hii! Could you do a F6 with Pin Hawthorn? Thanks!!

Prompt: F6. Clumsy kiss

The sun painted the sky red and pink as it descended, the colours mirrored from the water as you sat there at the beach with Pin, having found a cosy place to sit and eat your sandwiches and muffins. That particular beach rarely had people as it wasn’t friendly for swimmers due to sharp rocks near the shore, so you were able to sit there in peace, away from the prying eyes that would comment on how cute you two are. 

Honestly, when Pin first asked you out two months ago, you didn’t think much of it. You did like him, you weren’t sure if your fondness was romantic but you did enjoy his company. Becky and Jade insisted that the way you looked at Pin was most definitely romantic, whether you acknowledged it or not. So, you gave in and said yes, and you had gone to a basic dinner date, which had ended very well and feelings had bubbled up.

That had given way to another date. Third, fourth. And soon, you were pretty much attached to each other, texting all the time, having movie nights, hanging out. But even after all this, when you were face to face, it was timid and awkward for the most part, especially in public. It was the first relationship for both of you, you didn’t know how to act, how to show affection - even cuddling in public felt embarrassing somehow.

And of course, you hadn’t had your first kiss. Becky had been absolutely flabbergasted when she learned it some weeks ago – she started ranting about how you still act like you’re dancing around your feelings. Jade had tried to calm her down, telling her that you and Pin can take your time, that it’s all still very new for both of you. But it had definitely created some tension between the two of you.

You even wondered if it had been the right call, to accept his date invite. If you weren’t able to do much more than hold hands in private due to awkwardness, how would the rest of your relationship work out? Your head screamed at you to hug him, have him hold you, ask him for a kiss… but everything just felt like it was awkward to ask. You were ready, but was Pin ready? Would you just ruin everything if you jumped into his arms so quickly?

The view to the sea was beautiful, the horizon’s vivid colours slowly deepening. You and Pin sat close to each other, talking softly, giggling and sharing shy glances. It felt more comfortable now when there was no one around, just the two of you.

And maybe that’s why Pin’s eyes lingered on you for longer periods as you ate together, his eyes roaming your face, and you turned to look at him too.

“What?” you asked, your voice muffled as your mouth was full of sandwich.

Pin blinked a few times, and you saw his cheeks turn slightly red as he turned away. “Nothing. Sorry.”

You frowned and quickly ran your hand across your chin and cheeks. “Is there something on my face?”

Pin shook his head, rubbing his neck. “No, I just… I got lost in thought.”

You nodded slowly before leaning back slightly, turning your gaze back to the sunset. You were quiet for a moment again, before you abruptly leaned forward to grab your bottle of water - and then you felt something warm and damp on your ear, which left it as soon as it came. You turned to see a very red Pin sitting up, looking at you with wide eyes.

You touched your ear, frowning. “Did you just… try to kiss me?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking away from you. “I should have asked first.”

Your heart jumped at that, and you froze, staring at Pin, who shifted under your gaze.

“I should go,” he then said, starting to stand up but you lurched forward, grabbing his hand.

“No, don’t go,” you squeaked. “It’s… it’s okay, I… you wouldn’t have to ask.”

Pin’s eyes widened for a second, before he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He then lowered himself on the blanket again, grasping your hand hesitantly. “I… I’ve wanted to do that for a while, but I didn’t pay attention and ruined it.”

A smile tugged the corners of your lips as you gave his hand a squeeze. “Me too. I just… I haven’t found the right place or time to ask if I could kiss you.”

You both chuckled a little at it, at your own shyness, foolishness, how you had been dating for weeks and still acted like you were scared of each other somehow. As if you were afraid of it not working out.

“Well…” you mumbled, scooting closer to him. “Do you want to try again?”

Pin blushed again at your question, but he eagerly nodded. “If you’re okay with it.”

You nodded in agreement, biting your lip. And with a faint exhale, he slowly leaned in, before his lips finally found yours. It took a few seconds, but a surge of warmth immediately ran through your whole body, and you raised your hand to rest on Pin’s shoulder as you kissed back.

It wasn’t as passionate as you see first kisses be in movies, it was simple and soft. Fitting for you. And when he finally pulled away, you leaned your forehead against his for a moment, breathing in sync with him.

“Wow,” Pin whispered, a grin forming on his face.

“Yeah,” you chuckled, raising your other hand to cup his cheek. “I didn’t expect it to feel like that either.”

You sat back on the blanket, now huddled closer as Pin wrapped a throw blanket over both of you and wrapped an arm around your waist. You sat there, your head on his shoulder and after a moment, you felt him pressing a kiss on top of your head, making you grin. The sun had set below the horizon now, and it'd soon be dark. But you didn’t want to stand up, to go home. Not yet. Something had shifted in your relationship with Pin, and you wanted to bathe in that feeling for a moment longer. Elvis and Pixie seemed to snicker to themselves at the edge of the beach, seeing their owners finally cuddling like that.

You lifted your head from his shoulder and bit your lip, a question stuck in your throat for a moment before you forced it out. “Can I… can I come to stay the night with you? I feel like I won’t be able to sleep without you by my side tonight. I’d have too many thoughts.”

He chuckled, running his hand across your back. “If you’re okay with my cold room with humid air, then yes, you can stay the night at my place. I don’t think dad has anything against it either.”

You smiled at it, and then sighed. “The girls are going to lose it once they find out.”

Pin chuckled. “No doubt about that.”

You fell silent again for a moment, before Pin shifted, pushing you away gently. “We should probably go before it’s too dark to ride safely.”

Your body protested for being pushed away from Pin’s warmth, but you endured it, knowing that you would be able to sleep next to him through the whole night. Something beautiful was put into motion tonight, and suddenly the day when you first agreed to go on a date with Pin felt like the best day in your life.

---

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[thephonemenarentreal]

The Conglomerate operations are aboard the ship known as the Pleasure Cruise which is a floating city, constantly on the move and under the radar with a thriving population of technopeople, humans, and skibidis.

All of that ship is controlled by one AI: Captain Mizzenmatch. They are the ship, all the way down to the tiniest bolt and he takes their job very seriously.

MORE LORE UNDER THE CUT <3

Mizzenmatch doesn't NEED a unit form as the ship is their body, but they have one for appearances to parties and for ease of people needing a face to talk to...although people get a bit creeped out by the lack of arms.

They don't have arms because it is a "hassle" and feels "useless" when they are the ship and can do everything with but a thought. They say arms get in the way of "being" in the ship. They also don't like sleeves because it looks funny all floppy and not very professional.

As to what "Faction" they belong to, Mizzenmatch often answers all for they need all components to do their job. They are the ship. They must see, hear, and televise everything for the protection and comfort of their charges.

They take their job EXTREMELY SERIOUSLY. The safety of the lives on board and their comfort are their priority unless they are marked as being a nuisance or threat, in which case they will not do anything to stop that individual from being taken care of.

If someone is misbehaving on the ship, Mizzenmatch knows and will harass them by closing the elevators on them, making the hot water shut off, make the coffee machine spray them, ect. ect. They can be very petty and there is no stopping them as they ARE the ship...

The captain unit tends to remain at the helm of the ship staring off stoically. In fact, Mizzenmatch is extremely stoic and no one has ever heard them laugh.

There is a challenge to try and get the ship AI to laugh or crack a smile or something, but no one has had any luck.... Mizzenmatch is just a very stoic captain.

They don't sleep. Ever. They don't need to sleep. They are a very complicated AI, able to control the whole ship and monitor everything without missing a beat. This means certain systems can "sleep" while others "awake", taking shifts within Mizzenmatch's runtimes. So they are never technically asleep.

Every morning at 9am sharp, they always make ship announcements in a very stoic and professional voice. Very deep and sultry voice. These announcements are about the weather of the day, events on the ship planned, birthdays announcements, lottery numbers, and any specials that day.

There is a channel on every room TV called "Mizzenmatch report" where they give commentary on the news in the world as well as news on the ship.

Mizzenmatch has certain cameras open to the public that people can watch from their room if they like.

There is also a channel where they narrate all the things on sale at the deck mall and any specials that are currently running.

Mizzenmatch gets picky about changes to the ship and only makes changes if the board of directors vote unanimously on it.

Mizzenmatch can be reached by the phone at anytime for serious complaints. Otherwise, it is better to call the Jeeves on the minor things. Calling to ask how the captain is doing will get you a friendly enough conversation though and a thank you for asking. Maybe your shower water will be always nice and hot, the lighting always perfect, and the elevator always there for you.

It is something to watch the captain unit walk around the ship, opening doors with their mind and doing things without hands because they are the ship and can manipulate the environment to what is needed.

They like to watch the sea in their unit, so often stand by windows to watch.

They can get on the speaker system on any room to make dry comments to someone doing something bad. It makes some people paranoia since Mizzenmatch is always watching. Mizzenmatch just brushes it off saying nine times out of ten they don't care....they just look for things that are labeled as a nuisance to the comfort of guests or an active threat.

Destroying the unit does not kill Mizzenmatch. They ARE the ship. Killing the unit just makes an entire ship pissed off.

Mizzenmatch has thrown people overboard for comments about how the ship looks shabby. That's insulting. They make sure they are kept very clean, thank you!

Making comments about the Titanic or other big ships that sunk offends Mizzenmatch. They are a VERY careful driver thank you!

Mizzenmatch is able to triangulate position via satellite and always knows where the ship is and also can teleport individuals off and on the ship at waypoints that are set. In emergencies, members of the elite technocracy can activate a beacon that Mizzenmatch will lock onto and teleport them quickly to the ship.

The Pleasure Cruise hosts a large population of technopeople, humans, and skibidis on board and each and everyone of the full-time residence are Mizzenmatch's obligations. They will fight aggressively to keep them safe.

They don't mind humans like others in the Conglomerate and keeps a personal eye on them to keep humans safe and comfortable.

Mizzenmatch, in terms of overall size as a ship, is bigger than titans but does not classify as one given....ship shaped and titans don't let people live inside them and provide room service. Still, they are equipped with advanced firepower and defenses as well as a feature to dive to keep their charges safe. In a battle, Mizzenmatch can modify the ship, move parts around, and even has a factory to rapidly build more ammunition as needed to fight. With the AI's ability to see from every angle, the Pleasure Cruise has a complete 360 defensive firing circle.

When asked about their view on titans, Mizzenmatch is ambivalent. They are units. If they are on the ship, Mizzenmatch will protect them too. That's just how it works.

Given a war is going on, Mizzenmatch has stockpiled a pretty impressive supply of weaponry in case of emergencies...

Mizzenmatch can launch drone probes to "feel" out areas and scout if they feel the waters ahead are not good. These drones can be used in battle as well to distract enemy targeting systems.

Mizzenmatch was created by Simulcast to replace the original crew as a Titan Prototype AI for her Chthonic Protocol. They were successful as an AI, but Mizzenmatch promptly turned on her, seeing her as a threat to safety and reports on her constantly...

They also will undermine the Conglomerate if they feel it is a threat to the safety of others or the deaths are a bit too much. They do have more morals and an active care for those they keep safe.

Mizzenmatch is undermining Simulcast's opus magnus in the lab by "talking" to the sleeping titan, imparting a strong sense of duty onto it hopefully.

[aritsukemo]

thank you so very much <3

I wonder how Astolfo feels about a s/o that is taller than him? ): (it's only like 3-4 inches. but still)

I love your work btw!

Astolfo with a s/o who's taller than him

Warnings: None.

A/N: A sudden fever has reduced me to lying in bed instead of going to school today. I know I literally just posted about not completing request, this sense of anxiety bubbling in me has caused me to look for literally any and everyway to come up and out of this writing slump I've been in lately.. I'm sorry this simple request took so long to complete! I also apologize for it being so short, but if it makes you feel better, I had a lot of fun writing for him! 😁 ��

↪ I perceive Astolfo as someone who's insecure about almost everything, if not everything, about himself which could've possibly stemmed from his survivor's guilt. That said, one of his main insecurities would definitely be his height.

↪ So one could say that he's brought this onto himself. Dating you, I mean.

↪ Astolfo loves you dearly. You've put up with him through thick and thin, after all. That said, he can't help but envy you especially if you're both taller and stronger than him.

↪ Even if you're only a couple inches taller, that's enough of a reason for him to spiral into a sea of self-doubt and deprecation. Heck, I see him being self-conscious about his significant other being the same height as him.

↪ And if you're like six feet or higher? Oh yeah, he's definitely going to be more than a little caught up on comparisons..

↪ Little things get to him very easily. For example, Gano once made a comment about how he looked like a child whenever he stood next to you and now he actively avoids situations where he has to stand even a fraction near you in a public setting.

↪ There was another time during an expedition. The temperature had suddenly dropped and the ground had been painted by white snow. You offered your coat to your boyfriend since your customized uniform allowed you to stay warmer than everyone else, but he declined. As it grew colder, your offer arose more than once but he just wouldn't accept it and in the end, he got a real bad cold. ( You suspect that the reason behind his rejection was because your coat was bigger to accommodate for your size and he didn't want it on him because the contrast would've made him seem smaller than he already is )

↪ Arguments between you two have surfaced that were caused by your height difference. They're usually small, but there have been times where his anger got the best of him and he blew your little back and forth way out of proportion.

↪ On the brighter side, he isn't as reserved or angsty in private! Without eyes on him, he's involuntarily way more relaxed and you can get many things out of him like cuddles, pecks, hugs, and more!

↪ Making accommodations for him is a must! There's rarely ever a time during a cuddle sesh where you're the big spoon. He also won't let you kiss him or initiate any kind of affection that involves you bending down to his level. ( He'd much prefer you being in a position where he has to bend down to your level. That said, the rare times he kisses you are when your sat down and he's standing or when you two are cuddling )

↪ He's a real stickler so anything that makes him seem smaller is a no go between you two. Even something small like helping him up can get a negative reaction from him.

↪ Affirmations can go a long way with him! Astolfo is a sensitive being whether he admits it or not so complimenting him can ease his mind sometimes. Even something like "I like you the way you are," is enough if you spin it the right way! Be warned, though, that Astolfo has a tendency of taking things the wrong way! Saying something like "I think your height is cute," will have a very opposite effect on him than what you intended it to! Even if you mean well, certain things may and will be taken as teasing and he will react very negatively if he thinks you, his significant other, are teasing him.

↪ This may seem odd to some, but sticking up for him may cause him to lash out on you as well. Height aside, Astolfo will assume that you think he can't fight his own battles or that you feel the need to baby him which could lead to a dispute between you two. This doesn't mean he doesn't stick up for you, though! If anyone has anything to say about you while he's around, he will have more than a few words for that person no matter who they are. ( And don't let it be a retched vampire who made a comment because oh boy )

↪ Basically what I'm saying is that although your height can lead to many headaches with Astolfo, you're still his partner at the end of the day. Like I said before, he loves you a lot. You keep him grounded ( kind of like a safe haven ) and even if there are times where he's mocked or teased or his insecurities lead him to do things he isn't very proud of, that love for you won't change or diminish. Not over something silly like a height difference.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[theroseceleste]

Vampire Miguel - Part 7 - Ashes to Ashes

It is time to face Morbius and end him once and for all. Will it be plain sailing, or will there be a rocky road ahead?

Please note - This is the end of season 1 of Vampire Miguel. I have interesting ideas for season 2, if people want more... Please let me know what you guys think? If I continue, I will be giving Vampire Miguel a little break, but he will return (if you want him to).

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

Minors DNI - Smut and descriptions of violence

Word count - 8410

If you don't want spoilers, avoid reading the contains section below.

Contains - Descriptive fight scenes, moderate descriptions of violence. Brief description of sex.

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks.

Thank you to those who have read and enjoyed Vampire Miguel so far. The likes and re-blogs are very much appreciated.

Enjoy xx

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6

It feels strange stepping out of Las Sombras. Over the last twenty-four hours, you have been ensconced underground, hidden away, safe from Morbius and his turned creatures of the night. You blink and squint as the daylight makes your pupils shrink, adjusting to the brighter light levels.

Leaving the security of the shelter was simultaneously daunting and refreshing. However, the fact that it was light outside gave you a bit of relief and an extra sense of security. Not to mention that inhaling the cool, crisp autumn air was very much needed. Certainly a lot fresher than the stuffy atmosphere underground.

Both you and Lyla make your way to the station in her car. Miguel strongly advised against either of you using public transport - just to be safe.

Under Hobie’s instruction, you and Lyla meet his contact outside the closest police station to Las Sombras.

At 10am sharp, he stands in his police uniform, wearing a specific scarf around his neck to help you differentiate him from his colleagues. You both were warned that he wouldn’t be sharing his name, but so long as you two can access the CCTV system, you and Lyla didn’t mind.

“I can only guarantee a small window of time for you to have access to this room. So if you can, be quick,” he mutters as he leads you through the station as swiftly as possible, carrying a cup of coffee and waves good morning to passing by fellow cops.

The officer opens the door to a small room equipped with a desk, a computer and a couple of chairs. “This machine is linked to the public CCTV network around Nueva York. If you have a rough area in the city you can start with, you should find the person you’re looking for,” he says as he shuts the door once all three of you have entered. “I’ll take the controls though,” he adds, taking one of the two seats.

Lyla gestures for you to take the other chair and she stands between you and Hobie’s contact.

“So, where am I starting?” he says, looking at you expectantly.

“You met Morbius the other day, didn’t you? Where was that?” Lyla asks, jogging your memory.

Your mind is blown away by the fact that you did indeed meet Morbius just five days ago. And since then, your life has been a dramatic rollercoaster. Your life has been in danger at least three times, you’ve learned how to shoot a gun, learned vampires exist and you’re now dating one - kind of - sleeping with him at the very least…

As you think, a sea of memories swells in your mind. Churning images as you summon snapshots of each one until you finally start remembering where you first met Morbius.

“In the subway, five days ago. Heading to Brooklyn station just before 9am,” you answer.

“Eastbound or westbound? I need to know which platform you arrived at,” the officer asks as he starts entering information into the system.

You had been coming from your place of work… well… your now ‘old’ place of work. “Westbound,” you answer, doing everything you can to stop feeling mad about Jameson.

Hobie’s contact pulls up the camera footage on the screen around the time you provided on the morning five days ago. Both you and Lyla lean forward slightly, as if it will help you spot yourself and Morbius quicker.

Watching the footage, you see Miles’s parents handing out their flyers. Your heart sinks with sadness and guilt now that you know about their son, but are unable to tell them or the police anything about it.

On the screen, lights emerge from the tunnel as the camera on the platform also watches over the tracks. You think this is your train pulling into the station.

Sure enough, you eventually spot yourself leaving a carriage with the beautiful man in tow, except his appearance was a total facade. A lie. A trick. You feel sick at the thought of what that man nearly did to you.

“There,” you point at the screen. “There he is. We need to see where he comes from and where he goes,” you instruct the officer.

He starts working backwards from that point on the CCTV footage. Following his every movement before he finds you on the train.

Obviously, because Morbius is a vampire, his activity lasts throughout the night. You all watch him hop about the city via the subway. Above ground, you observe him taking leisurely walks along busy streets.

Unfortunately for you, he does occasionally slip into alleyways where you suspect he knows he cannot be seen. God only knows what he’s doing, but he does re-emerge again, allowing the three of you to trace his movements even further back.

Footage from the evening before you met Morbius suggests that he stayed in an apartment block neighbouring a shopping and restaurant district all day. The entrance to the building shares the cover of a roof-like feature that also looms over the retail businesses and subway station.

Returning to the point in which you meet Morbius, the officer then follows the vampire’s movements through the subway CCTV network, bringing him full circle back to the very same apartment block.

“I bet that’s where he lives,” Lyla comments as she types the building’s address into her notes.

Fast forwarding on the footage shows Morbius repeatedly coming and going around sunrise and sundown. You presume he chose this specific apartment block because of the cover over the entrance, which buys him some wriggle-room to come and go when the sun is up if necessary.

“Yep; I’d say that’s where the guy lives. Is there anything else you need?” he asks before glancing up at the clock on the wall, checking to see how much time you have been in there.

Catching on to the officer’s awareness of the time, you and Lyla decide you have all the information you need.

The pair of you thank him for his help and promptly leave.

“So, Morbius lives in the Brooklyn shopping district?” Miguel asks as he looks up the address Lyla gave him that evening after all of the vampires wake up and get out of bed. “That’s not too far from here…” he mumbles pensively.

“Makes sense,” Lyla replies as she twirls some microwavable noodles around her fork. “The surrounding area is largely under cover. Fairly central too, with lots of nooks and crannies to hide in and feast on people,” she continues as she takes a mouthful of food.

Miguel couldn’t believe you and Lyla returned with an address for Morbius’s hiding place. His faith in CCTV is now largely improved because of it. There was an underlying sense of negativity that morning as he was falling off to sleep, feeling concerned over how successful the trip to the police station was going to be. There are still certain aspects of modern-day living that he still needs to have a better understanding of and the city’s extensive monitoring system is one of them.

“Now that we have a location, I need to tell you my plan on how we’re going to end Morbius,” he says as he joins everyone else in the communal area. The moment his words leave his mouth the group fall silent; anyone holding their phones puts them away in their pockets, looking as though they want to take part in this important discussion.

You sit beside Miguel, also noticing just how focused the rest of the vampires are, particularly the younger ones. Presumably because they had the most to lose being turned against their will. Their family, their education, and technically the future they had only just begun preparing themselves for. A chill runs down your spine knowing that the innocent youngsters look the most determined with the subject of revenge. But can you blame them?

“As vampires, we can sense others. So, stage one of the plan is to determine roughly where in the apartment building he stays. Myself and Lyla will go ahead early; with the use of sunscreen so I can travel during the day before he wakes up and leaves,” Miguel begins to draw up his plan, his mind putting together his ideas as if they are pieces of a puzzle.

Everyone is listening intently.

“Stage two; after finding his apartment, the rest of the vampires - who still want to be involved - will make their way to the confirmed location as soon as the sun sets,” he pauses for a moment before adding. “There is no shame in backing out. This could get dangerous real fast. Morbius isn’t afraid to use what harms vampires against us. This could result in any one of us being reduced to a pile of ash before the night is through.”

The silence that descends upon the shelter feels heavy with his serious words, his ruby-red eyes wander to each and every person who has said they want to be involved, but no one backs out.

“Stage three; once we’re all together, we barge in. If we make noise, then so be it. We want to catch Morbius unaware before he wakes up and then we end him,” Miguel’s voice carries an air of finality as he speaks.

Hobie, who sits next to Pav and Margot on a couch, leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. “Tell us when, and consider it done,” he says with such confidence. All the others nod in agreement with the punk vampire.

“As soon as possible,” Miguel answers, “sundown tomorrow.” He has waited long enough to see the end of Morbius, he wants him gone at the earliest opportunity, for the sake of the city.

The following day, as the vampires sleep, you, Lyla and MJ talk amongst yourselves in the communal area. You watch Lyla pack a bag full of ammunition as there is an overwhelming sense of nervousness shared between all three of you.

It is agreed that MJ will stay in the shelter and keep MayDay safe. You have decided you will join the team of vampires as soon as the sky is dark enough to fly stealthily over Nueva York. Peter will fly holding onto you, making sure you stay with them and under their protection.

“How was Miguel this morning when he got into bed?” Lyla asks. There is no hint of cheeky suggestiveness in her voice. She knows the man is preparing himself for a fight. A fight that could cost him his life. And without him, there will be fewer good vampires to protect the city.

You want to say he was fine. But the way he held you close on the bed, his arms tight and tense to make sure you can’t get away, suggested otherwise. His kisses were plentiful but tender and full of meaning. The feeling of his lips against your skin took your breath away, his affection was his wordless way of saying goodbye if he was to never return.

Miguel continued kissing you, holding you, touching you until his eyes couldn’t remain open any longer, just the thought of it almost makes your eyes well with tears. You don’t want to lose him, but it is a necessary fight, you just hope he and his fellow vampires come out victorious. “He didn’t say much, but I could understand he was preparing for the worst,” you finally answer.

Lyla zips up her bag as MJ gives MayDay a slightly tighter squeeze while she chews on the corner of a child’s book.

“Peter was the same this morning. If Peter is subdued about something, you know it’s serious,” MJ speaks up, her voice sounding slightly shaky with emotion. Much like yourself, MJ is working hard to make peace with the fact that her loved one may not return.

You eventually stand after looking at the time on your phone. It won’t be long till you have to prepare Miguel for the evening ahead. “Gotta go and get Miguel up and slathered with suncream,” you announce, spurring Lyla to get up too.

“Right, while you do that, I’ll prepare a blood pack for Miguel, make sure he’s got enough energy,” she pauses halfway through heading into the kitchen. “MJ; will you be able to do the same for the others when they wake up?”

MJ looks up from MayDay’s book after opening it and reading it to her. “Oh yeah, sure,” she looks back down at the book and runs her fingers along the words, “Incy wincy spider…”

MJ’s words fade as you head back to Miguel’s room, your heart full of anxiousness and anticipation. Every step towards his room brings you closer to waking him up, bringing you closer to the moment he has to leave.

The smell of sunscreen hangs in the air as you step through the door and notice Miguel is already up and dressed.

“Oh,” you say in surprise as you close the door behind you. “You’re already up.”

Miguel approaches, dressed in black, a warm smile on his face - an expression you suspect is an attempt to stop you from worrying. “I just wanted to spend some extra time with you before I have to go,” he replies as he rests his large hands on your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing soothingly.

Like an anxious mother caring for her son, you zip up his jacket as if you believe it will provide him extra protection. “You sure you’ve got everything covered with the suncream, Miguel?” you ask as you smooth your hands over the leather.

He nods at you, feeling thankful that you’re there for him. “Yes, I’m sure. Thank you, mi dulzura,” he replies as his arms slowly wrap around you, holding you close. Long fingers tangle in your hair as he gently pulls to make you look up at him. “You take such good care of me,” his voice is merely above a whisper.

You feel heavy - relaxed - but heavy and woozy. So woozy that you fail to notice the significance of his eyes glowing. To you, they are just beacons, commanding your attention, something you have no trouble giving to him.

Miguel’s arms tighten around you as your legs start to lose strength. “I’m going to take care of you now,” he mumbles, but you don’t really notice the words, except for the vibrations in his chest soothing you.

Each blink gets longer as your eyelids feel heavier, the pounding of anxiousness in your heart has gone, you feel at peace and safe.

Now there’s weightlessness and the endless sea of darkness before you just after Miguel leans in to give you a tender, loving kiss…

“Y/N!” a young girl’s voice pierces the darkness in which you are unable to tell just how long you have been lost within. However, when you hear the voice call out again, it starts to sound clearer, and your body doesn’t quite feel so heavy.

You feel tremors happening occasionally each time this mysterious voice speaks.

“He’s done the same to Y/N, guys. She’s out cold,” the voice calls out again, sounding urgent and concerned which is starting to affect you.

Eventually, you realise the void shrouding you is a dreamless sleep, and the tremors are caused by someone trying to shake you awake.

Everything still seems heavy, but your limbs slowly feel as though life is coming back to them.

Sensing that you’re stirring, the person shakes you again, strengthening your connection with the waking world.

Finally, after a struggle, you prise your eyes open, your vision unfocused, making you see double.

“Y/N!” the voice calls out, which after several moments of heavy blinking, you come to recognise that it is Gwen that has been trying to rouse you. Soon after, you discover that she’s kneeling next to you on Miguel’s bed.

Your muscles reluctantly move as you try to sit up, Gwen gives you support, her hand resting on your shoulder.

“Where’s Miguel?” you ask, your voice hoarse from being in deep sleep. There’s a slight throbbing in your head as the final effects of the impromptu slumber wears off.

“We guess he’s taken off and left us all behind,” Peter suddenly speaks up, making you look around the room to find everyone also standing in Miguel’s private quarters.

“Dude thinks he’s some kind of hero,” Hobie grumbles as he stands there, arms folded, his face a picture of disappointment.

“I get you’re mad, Hobie. We all are to an extent,” Lyla interjects as she tries to squeeze through the crowd of vampires so she can be heard. “He thinks that he’s responsible for Morbius and doesn’t want anyone getting hurt or killed because of his mistake.”

The more people talk, the more awake you feel and your memory starts to return. “Miguel hypnotised me off to sleep, didn’t he?” you mutter, sounding slightly betrayed.

“He did it to Lyla, MJ and MayDay too, to make sure he could leave without anyone arguing against his own plans,” Peter wades back into the conversation.

A sense of hopelessness floods you, knowing that Miguel has gone to face this fight on his own. Either an exceedingly brave or foolish thing to do. “What do we do?” you ask, looking up at Lyla and Peter, the two other senior members of the group.

They glance at each other and give a nod before looking back at you.

“We continue with stage two of the original plan,” Lyla answers.

“Except, you and Lyla drive to the location while we fly. Both of you will be equipped with guns so you can protect yourselves,” Peter adds before looking at his phone. “It’s nearly sundown; we should get ready to go.”

It has been slow progress, but Miguel gradually zigzags his way up the staircase of the apartment block. Sweeping along every floor to detect any sign of Morbius.

He hates the fact that he hypnotised you and the other two human women to sleep in a bid to slow the rest of the vampires down. He knows you all will be mad at him, but it is for the best - in his opinion. He can take Morbius out, and everyone is safe.

Under his jacket is a holster and a sheath carrying a gun loaded with silver bullets along with a silver knife. Two weapons are better just in case the one fails.

He gives a polite nod to other residents as he passes them in the corridors while his senses stretch as wide as they can, like feelers to pick up any trace of the evil vampire.

Stepping onto the next floor, his brows furrow as he picks something up - a mental signature of another vampire nearby, and it feels exceedingly familiar. He just hopes that Morbius isn’t awake to detect Miguel. Unfortunately for him, however, it has taken him far longer than he anticipated. But knowing that he is knee-deep in his own plan, he might as well continue to locate Morbius and try to put an end to him. Hopefully, by the time the rest will inevitably show up, Morbius will be nothing but a bad memory.

Miguel’s senses tell him that his long-lasting enemy is on the same floor as him. He hovers by each door, his hands casually nestled in his jeans pockets while he listens, feels and sniffs with his abilities for Morbius.

He finally finds a door that causes his vampiric senses to fire on all cylinders. Alarm bells, whistles, and flashing lights explode in his mind as he looks at the door in question.

A tentative listen through the thick wood doesn’t betray much as to what’s going on inside, but he knows Morbius is there.

Remembering that you zipped up his jacket, his hand slowly and quietly pulls it down until it hits the end, letting the leather garment open.

Feeling thankful once more that his dead heart isn’t hammering inside his chest, he focuses on the task at hand. Raising a leg, he delivers a powerful kick to the door, crunching the frame with the devastating blow.

Miguel moves quickly. Drawing his gun from the holster under his jacket, he enters the apartment.

Inside, it’s dark and silent. Curtains are drawn to keep the light out during the day, but the glow of the sun around the edges is almost nonexistent.

He stands in the open-plan kitchen and living room, poised to shoot anything that moves. His head turns left and right, his keen red eyes scanning his surroundings.

Two doors lead out of the kitchen area, one to his left and his right. One of these rooms could have Morbius sleeping within them - if the apartment door being kicked in didn’t wake him.

While holding the gun with one hand, the other reaches under his jacket for the silver blade as he stalks deeper into the apartment. He’s now prepared for long and short-range combat before turning the door handle.

The door swings open, revealing a tiled bathroom and sadly, not a slumbering vampire.

Suddenly, in his mind, he feels movement behind him. Miguel spins around, taking a rushed aim and firing just before he’s struck heavily with a gnarled fist in the face. The bullet lodges itself into the wall across the kitchen.

Despite reeling from the blow, Miguel slashes with the blade with unfocused vision, luckily snagging it on his attacker’s arm. A shrill, monstrous scream fills the air as the metal burns the vampire’s flesh.

Time is of the essence. He can still only sense one vampire; he’s certain that it’s Morbius that he’s facing.

His right hand presses forward, aiming the gun at where he thinks is the heart of his enemy. He wishes that his vision would clear more quickly. The kind of punch he took would have killed a human outright; it was bound to take a moment or two to recover fully. This does tell Miguel one thing however: Morbius is even stronger than the last time they fought…

Before he can pull the trigger again, a wing shoots out from Morbius’s back, shunting Miguel deeper into the bathroom. The gun and the silver blade fall to the floor with a loud clatter.

He soars backwards, hitting and denting the wall behind him, and then collapses into a bathtub as dust and cracked tiles fall on top.

After recovering from being sliced by the knife, Morbius stops applying pressure on his now healed wound and rushes forward to snatch up the dropped weapon, raising it to strike back.

Looking like a deer caught in headlights, frozen in surprise and fear, Miguel’s mind begins to frantically search for a solution.

As Morbius plunges the blade down towards his victim, the tables turn. It is now he that is shrouded in whirling black mist. Morbius may have managed to stab Miguel before, but this time, his foe is armed with the same trick he usually plays. The bath is now empty, except for the knife wedged firmly through the plastic.  

More mist materialises from behind Morbius followed by a hard kick and a grunt sends him crashing into the tub.

Wrenching the shower head from the wall, Miguel turns on the water at full flow. A hateful expression is plastered across his face, his fangs bared threateningly as he aims it down on his enemy.

The bathroom fills with Morbius’s screams of agony as he’s doused with rushing water, the sound makes the corners of Miguel’s lips slowly tug upwards into an evil grin. He watches with glee as his enemy curls up in a defensive ball, steam rising from his body as his flesh burns and stings.

Keeping the shower head trained on him, Miguel reaches down to the floor to pick up the gun. As fun torturing his enemy may be, he cannot lose sight of what he came here for.

The soaked and scalding situation Morbius has found himself in is not lost on him. Once again, Miguel has managed to debilitate him with the use of flowing water. Only this time, it doesn’t quite match the torrent of a fast-flowing river.

Old, ripped wings burst out and wrap around Morbius and burn as they protect his body, buying him time to summon the energy to vanish.

“No!” Miguel yells as he stands up straight again, taking a potshot at Morbius out of desperation. Another loud crack fills the air as the bullet soars through another bout of black mist and punches a hole through the tub instead.

Tossing the shower head into the bath, Miguel picks up the knife from the tub and storms out of the room, not giving a damn that he has left the water running.

Morbius’s presence feels strong. He’s still close by.

The kitchen is empty, which only leaves Morbius’s bedroom behind the remaining door in the apartment.

Hasty footsteps thunder across the floor as Miguel charges into the last room, sending the door swinging off of its hinges.

A brilliant purple light immediately floods the room, making him instinctively flinch, expecting to feel the skin on his face and hands burn. Clearly this is a trap set by Morbius if anything like this was to happen.

When Miguel notices the distinct lack of agony when the UV rays don’t burn him, he lets out a cruel laugh. Once again, sunscreen has proven itself useful.

Drunk on the feeling of having an advantage over Morbius, he vanishes and reappears behind the bright UV lamp where his foe hides.

Planting his booted foot against the still soaked vampire, he shoves him backwards into a dresser, making it thud loudly against the wall. “That won’t work on me today, Morbius,” he growls with a victorious grin as he raises his gun.

Despite the UV light not paying off, Morbius did not show fear - in fact, he wears an expression more like annoyance and irritation.

Without further deliberation, Miguel pulls the trigger only for it to click uselessly in his hand as the mechanism inside jams.

His stomach lurches like he has mis-stepped going down the stairs, the perfect moment to kill Morbius slipping out of his clutches. “FUCK!” he yells as he pulls the trigger again, willing for the firing pin to hit the cartridge inside.

Realising his time is not over yet, Morbius lashes out, grabs the support of the UV light and takes a violent swing as he stands back up abruptly. The collision knocking Miguel backwards, his head recoiling sharply before he collapses onto the bed. The furniture cracks loudly, the impact of the giant falling onto it causing the structure underneath the mattress to buckle.

Tossing the light aside, Morbius clambers on top of Miguel, using his clawed spindly fingers to prise the weapons from his hands. The gun is now useless, but the knife is still a threat - but could also be useful, depending on who’s on the receiving end.

A battle of strength ensues as the pair struggle to turn the blade towards the other. Fangs bared, the both of them snarl as the red in their eyes flash dangerously.

The tip of the knife inches closer to Miguel’s chest. His shuddering hands grip onto Morbius’s wrists, desperate to hold him back.

With a roar of sheer power, he manages to roll the deceptively strong, evil vampire onto his back, making an effort to turn the blade towards his enemy with one hand while the other punches hard against his face; payback for the dirty UV light move.

The knife slowly turns, twisting downwards towards Morbius’s chest, suspended above him tauntingly. The punch weakened his arms as he felt his cheekbone smash under the devastating force of Miguel’s fist.

A look of hesitation flashes across Morbius’s face, he’s once again on the losing side as he tries to push back the knife that is hanging perilously close above his dead heart.

Another swift punch comes from Miguel, his enemy catching on that each blow makes the knife drop an inch closer.

It is like Miguel can see the cogs turning in Morbius’s mind. “Don’t you dare!” he hisses as he pushes harder, every muscle tensing. The look on his enemy’s terrifying face tells him he’s desperately considering vanishing.

With the extra effort, a pin-pricking sensation is felt through his clothes, starting to bite into his skin and burn immensely. One more hard push and he’ll be a pile of ash.

Knowing that he will surely lose in this position, Morbius retreats. Black mist engulfs Miguel as the knife plummets into the mattress, slicing cleanly through the sheets.

Angry red pierces the darkness in Morbius’s room. Miguel is beyond seething. Without giving himself any time to think, he vanishes too, bursting in and out of existence around the building until he can lock onto his enemy.

His senses tell him Morbius is on the roof. Black mist swirls and licks around his incensed form as he materialises and clocks his foe taking flight.

Wings sprout from his back, beating the air, sending Miguel soaring into the night. With his bat-like appendages in much better condition in comparison to his enemy’s, he catches up with just a few well-timed flaps.

Sharp claws grapple onto Morbius’s ankle and pull him down to Miguel’s level. A mid-air clash begins against the inky-black sky while crowds of civilians amble from shop to shop below.

The airborne skirmish halts when Miguel seizes Mobrius’s neck, his extended claws slice into his foe’s flesh as his fingers squeeze hard.

Yells of agony from the evil vampire echo between the buildings in the shopping district making shoppers below look upwards and gasp and scream.

Miguel tuts with frustration; he did not want an audience, but there is no point crying over spilt milk. There are more important matters to tend to: killing Morbius.

He’s got his enemy right where he wants him, now’s the time to strike while the iron is hot. But his eyes widen when his free hand clasps around nothing above the sheath, realising that in his hurry to locate Morbius, he left the knife firmly wedged into the bed in the vampire’s apartment. He has made a monumental error, costing his revenge.

A dark chortle fills his ears, mixing in with more shrieks of panic and fear from below. “It appears you have made a mistake, Miguel,” Morbius growls before unleashing a heavy blow to Miguel’s face.

“Ah!” the failed hero’s head snaps to the side as he lets out a grunt and releases Morbius from his grip. The sudden pain in the side of his head makes his beating wings falter.

The pair drop lower towards the street below as pedestrians and shoppers scatter.

The tables have turned for Miguel. He was dealt the winning hand, armed with the element of surprise, a gun and a silver knife… and it has all been wasted by a moment of bad luck.

He kicks himself for trying to play the ultimate hero, to protect everyone and refusing to enlist the help he had at his disposal.

Morbius exacts his revenge by gripping Miguel’s neck, letting his claws now sink deep into his skin.

A growl turns into a yell of agony, before his enemy sends him hurtling down onto the concrete below; some lucky pedestrian just manages to get out of the way in time.

Upon impact, the concrete cracks and crumbles under Miguel’s sheer weight and the force with which he was thrown by Morbius. His back arches in pain as he lands awkwardly, knocking the wind out of him. His vision blurs as he bangs his head again so soon after the strike just a few moments ago.

Without a care in the world, unafraid of showing who he really is, Morbius lands on his feet, wings spread wide and the gnarled monster out on full display.

Civilians recoil with fear and disgust, but cannot bring themselves to run away, as if their sudden movement will make them a target.

The more daring amongst them reach for their pockets and pull out their phones, recording this spectacle from behind cover - if they could find any.

Walking coolly past just one of the few trees dotted along the paved walkway, Morbius takes hold of a branch, using his increased strength to wrench it from the trunk. A loud snap echoes between the front of the shops on either side of them.

“To think you offered yourself on a plate to me, makes this all the sweeter,” Morbius sneers, however there is a look of victory plastered all over his face as he looks down upon the dazed and agony-ridden Miguel.

Snapping off a bit of the branch in his hand, Morbius fashions a stake as he finally reaches Miguel. He sinks to his knees on top of the dazed vampire and places his weight on his enemy’s wings, wearing an expression of relief as if he has just completed a marathon.

This rivalry, two centuries long, is about to end finally. A costly mistake Morbius made is about to be righted.

He raises his arms, holding the stake above his head as Miguel struggles to see. The good vampire knows he’s in trouble but the splitting pain in his head renders him useless.

“You nearly bested me, I’ll give you that. But let’s be honest, I was always going to reign superior,” the blurry-looking Morbius hisses, although the red in his eyes are unmistakable.

In Miguel’s final moments, he thinks of you as he feels the position of Morbius’s body change suddenly. He can’t see what Morbius has in his hands, but he knows it isn’t good.

Everything Morbius has had to endure for two hundred years after nearly dying in the river, has been leading to this moment. His victory in the palm of his hand.

Morbius plunges the stake downwards towards Miguel’s heart…

A loud crack is followed by what feels like Morbius’s head splitting into two makes him stop and let out an anguished scream.

You have arrived on the scene just in the knick of time, carrying a baseball bat, followed by the others. Any second later, there would have been nothing but a pile of ash where Miguel lays now.

Seeing Miguel stuck, unable to defend himself flipped a switch in your head. Lyla had already provided you with the weapon concealed in her car, all you needed was motivation, and boy did you find it.

Before Morbius could kill your vampire boyfriend, you raced up to them undetected, and swung for your life - well, Miguel’s life.

The evil vampire scurries away, covering his caved head with his arms before taking off. A portion of the remaining observing civilians disperse away from him. You may not have vampiric strength but you caught him off guard and unprepared.

With slightly recovered vision, Miguel sits up and squints, recognising your scent immediately. “Y/N?!”

You look down at him and offer your hand to help him up. But you also have half a mind to bonk him on the head with the bat too.

To say that you’re mad at him is an understatement.

As Miguel slowly rises from the hole in the concrete, you watch the rest of the vampires descend upon Morbius like a hungry pack of wolves, with Hobie leading the charge, carrying his twin blades.

While a second vampiric skirmish begins, you hear Lyla’s voice yell at the members of the public, ordering them to leave and steer clear. Miguel breathes a sigh of relief when he starts to see the public come to their senses and move away.

“You good?” you ask Miguel as he rubs the back of his head, the remnants of his dazed state slowly slipping away.

“Yeah,” he answers as he watches the swarm of determined and angry vampires vanish and reappear in a cloud of swirling mist above.

You don’t want him to go, but you know he should. Your hand clutches his arm as you silently push him forward, but to your surprise, he stops and looks back at you.

He draws you in for a heartfelt kiss on your lips before he presses his forehead against yours and clasps your hands in his. “I’m sorry.”

Then, you feel his lips press against your forehead as he kisses you again before you feel his wings beat air at you.

As he takes flight, his regained vision allows him to lock onto the fight ahead. He hears Morbius’s howls of pain as everyone rips into him, throwing him between them like some vicious game of Pass the Parcel.

Every vampire Morbius had turned, that Miguel took under his wing, wanted a slice of revenge. He finally came to realise he couldn’t deny them that and assumed that all of them would be mad at him, and rightfully so.

But what matters now is seeing to it that Morbius does not escape tonight. His only way out of this is his ashes being scattered by the autumn breeze.

As you watch Miguel’s large form enter the fray, you soon realise some of Morbius’s cronies have finally come to his aid.

You hear a hiss behind you. Swiftly spinning around you gasp in shock as you see red eyes, sharp fangs and claws descend upon you before a shot rings out from behind. Their eyes go wide before they dissolve into ash.

Lyla approaches soon after, a smoking gun in her hand. “I think there’s more coming; here,” she says as she pulls out a second gun from her back pocket and hands it to you. “That bat won’t beat them all off.”

The baseball bat clatters against the concrete slab as you drop it, take the weapon and prime it.

“We need to stop as many as we can from helping Morbius in that fight. Looks like they’re giving him a good run-around,” Lyla continues as you see sudden movement behind her.

Raising your gun, you take aim and pull the trigger. The vampire's ashes fall at Lyla’s feet just as she turns to see what you shot at.

Back up in the air, the sound of gunshots reaches Miguel’s ears. He glances down towards the noise and can see more trouble is coming from under the cover over the shopping district; but it looks like you and Lyla have it handled, for now.

Worry mounts in his mind however. He doesn’t want you both to be overwhelmed but equally, he can’t let Morbius escape.

With the prolonged fighting, teleportation and use of vampiric strength, Miguel can sense Morbius’s energy dwindling. And if he can sense it, the others can too.

It is like there is an unspoken understanding between them all to tire him out completely, to make it certain that Morbius cannot get away.

Suddenly, a feminine scream catches his attention.

Looking around desperately to spot the source, he discovers Gwen had received a hard punch to the face, sending her plummeting towards the ground.

Both Miguel and Miles dive fast to catch her before he hears Hobie yell out his name and point at an escaping Morbius.

He stops and looks up. It seems Morbius is seizing an opportunity. Miguel cannot let him slip through his fingers again, knowing that Miles will continue to swoop low and save Gwen in a daring dive.

Hobie draws his blades as he flies after the weakened evil vampire. “Catch!” he shouts as he hurls one blade far over Morbius’s head with great effort, the sharp metal glinting as it catches the moonlight with each revolution in the air.

Miguel knows exactly what Hobie has planned.

He vanishes in smoke, picturing exactly where he wants to be.

As the mist clears again, a terrified Morbius halts before him, tattered wings splaying wide to slow himself down.

Miguel raises his hand and expertly catches the blade’s handle before thrusting it forward into his enemy’s heart.

At the exact same time, Hobie teleports behind and stabs it into Morbius’s back.

The moment the silver blades connect in the middle, Morbius chokes and splutters, his red eyes fixed on Miguel’s, before his old enemy at long last disintegrates.

They did it. It’s over.

Miguel’s raised arm lowers as he starts to process what’s happened. It doesn’t seem real.

Ash swirls gracefully in the wind as it falls to the ground, scattering the remains of Morbius far and wide - not that Miguel particularly notices this.

He is so deep in his state of disbelief, that he doesn’t hear the cheers from the other vampires until his feet touch the ground and his wings stow away.

The silver blade slips from his loose fingers, clattering on the pavement as his eyes lock onto you.

It was you who flipped the fight back in his favour. It was you who saved his life.

He rushes to you, his arms scooping you up and holding you tightly against him.

Not a single word is uttered, but you know through his hold on you alone that he is truly grateful.

You return the embrace, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Of course you’re mad at what he did to you, but you’re certain he knows it and he’s already apologised.

If truth be told, he’s grateful for everyone. Everyone did their bit during the fight. If he hadn't been such a foolhardy man and had stuck to the original plan, the fight might have been over without any complications.

Now, everyone has landed and began to group up around the both of you. Peter and Hobie pat him heavily on the back while the younger vampires rejoice.

Miguel puts you back down as he watches a thunderous Lyla approach.

Back in the shelter, Lyla had been the calmest of all, even defending Miguel when others expressed their disappointment or anger over him leaving early.

But you find yourself shocked to witness Lyla lash out and hit her good friend. She is much smaller than Miguel, making her violent act look a little comical, but there was a nasty jab in her punch which connected with Miguel’s ribs.

“Oof!” he grunts in surprise, it didn’t particularly hurt.

“Why did you go and do that, you fool?!” she hisses as she now unleashes multiple strikes on him, one after another. “You nearly got yourself killed! How dare you send me to sleep! I’m gonna kick your fucking ass for that; just you wait!—“

Miguel simply allows Lyla to work out her frustrations until she dissolves into tears. Her hammering fists give up their abuse before slipping her arms around his waist and hugging him.

He pats her reassuringly on her shoulder as he gives everyone else an awkward look. “You can all beat me up later,” he says as a sniffling Lyla slowly pulls away before giving him one last well deserved whack.

Miguel sends the rest of the vampires back to the shelter, but he wants to keep you and Lyla with him while he returns to Morbius’s apartment.

Before Hobie left with the others, he told Miguel he called in a favour with his police friend again and promised there wouldn’t be repercussions with the law enforcement.

That was a load of weight off his mind. If things had gone his way, the killing of Morbius would have happened in the privacy of his apartment but, obviously things had to go wrong.

Entering the now deserted apartment, the faint sound of running water comes from the bathroom, reminding him that he left the shower running.

Lyla goes to turn it off, leaving you alone with Miguel.

You feel his fingers tentatively brush against yours, almost as if he wants to see how you are but is too scared to ask you, in case you go and do something similar to what Lyla did earlier.

To ease his concerns, your digits reply by hooking themselves around his while your thumb runs over his rigid knuckles. You feel him relax and relief at your touch.

The open-plan living room and kitchen looks relatively normal - nothing suspicious or interesting to note.

Miguel doesn’t exactly know what he’s looking for, but this is his only chance to explore his old enemy's home.

Lyla returns and the three of you enter Morbius’s bedroom. The light from the UV lamp shines up to the ceiling as it lays on the floor.

You flip the main light switch on, illuminating the entire room.

Your gaze falls onto the twisted bedsheets pinned down onto the mattress by a knife, telling you there was a close fight in here too.

While you’re preoccupied with the look of the bed, Miguel and Lyla observe the walls now that you all can see properly with the light on.

“What’s this?” Miguel asks, thinking out loud as he approaches a wall.

Both you and Lyla take a look, too.

Dozens of newspaper clippings are stuck to the wall with pins. Each one talking about the same man: Doctor Otto Octavius.

You wrack your brain, trying to think where you’ve heard that name before…

“Why was Morbius interested in a nuclear physicist?” Miguel mutters with confusion.

Nuclear physicist… “Oh!” you gasp when you remember.

Both Lyla and Miguel look at you.

“I wrote about him the other day,” you begin to explain. “He’s a nuclear physicist who is soon to win a Nobel Prize in physics. But not only does he specialise in nuclear physics, he has also dabbled with biology.”

Miguel is silent for a moment as he struggles to grasp the link.

“Perhaps…” Lyla joins in, “Morbius was starting to explore other avenues in his search for a cure?”

“You think Morbius was going to approach a scientist to help cure him?” Miguel questions Lyla before glancing up at the newspaper clippings again, searching for more clues.

“Well, his own theory never cured him. Perhaps he was considering going down a more scientific route?” Lyla responds as she looks up Doctor Octavius on her phone.

You gasp again as another thought enters your mind. “Morbius may not have had the chance to speak to Octavius, but you do.”

Your boyfriend glances at you suddenly. A glimmer of hope shines in his eyes. “You think I have a shot at getting rid of this curse?”

There is a moment of silence as you reconsider your thoughts, but eventually, you take his hand in yours. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Miguel’s lips press into a thin line as he ponders a life free from vampirism. Could it be possible? You’re right though: he won’t know the answer unless he does something about it.

With a quiet nod, Miguel reaches up and rips every article of the scientist off the wall. Morbius won’t be needing them any longer…

Naturally, the news channels were abuzz with fresh claims of the existence of vampires over the next couple of days.

While the government works harder to quash the new videos surfacing on the internet of the final vampiric showdown, more and more people are starting to believe that they’re being lied to.

Some civilians naturally voiced their concerns, while others praised the vampire group for ridding Nueva York of what looked like a ghastly beast.

Alongside the newly surfaced videos came refreshed campaigns to continue the search for the missing youngsters.

A few people who watched these videos on V-Tube, the vampire channel on YouTube, claimed that they recognised their missing friends as those who took part in the vampiric battle.

Of course this development concerned Miguel most of all. But with the youngsters’ parents being given fresh hope that their kids are still in the city, you and Lyla convince him to release them.

Although, while doing so, he promises them all that the shelter of Las Sombras will always be open for them should they ever need it.

Now that the city is free from Morbius and peace has been restored, you decide to get back into work. It doesn’t take much for Lyla and Miguel to convince you to work for Las Sombras nightclub after reopening.

With the government still pissed at you for writing your open letter for the Daily Bugle, no other newspaper in Nueva York wants to hire you. But, you’re not too upset about it.

Working at the nightclub means you work with Lyla. The both of you get on amazingly well and act as partners in crime to tease Miguel. And, of course, you get to see your boyfriend too after he rises from his daily slumber.

Like every other new couple, you and Miguel are besotted with one another. Perhaps your bond together is stronger than most; probably due to the things you have been through together, and ultimately you let him feed from your neck, before he makes slow and tender love to you.

With an empty shelter, you and Miguel use every space available to express your intimate desires.

He takes you on the sofas in the communal area, on the kitchen counter and in the bath, giving you a new reason to start having more of them, especially when Miguel is involved.

Feeling the warm water hug around your body while you’re pressed against his makes you feel weak and soft like melting butter. And adding his face full of pleasure to the mix as you slowly ride him - being careful not to slosh the water over the sides and flood the bathroom, sends exquisite tingles spreading throughout your body.

Miguel has enjoyed a couple of months of well-earned peace. Aside from tending to his vampiric needs like sleeping during the day and feasting on blood, he has wanted to do very little with the subject of vampirism.

He simply wished to enjoy his time with you, beginning a new chapter in his life until he is struck with the unpleasant thought that he will end up watching you grow old if the both of you stay together.

Remembering that he watched his beloved daughter and brother be consumed by the passage of time, he realises that he cannot live through that again. And it is that realisation that makes him sit at his desk, open his drawer and take out the newspaper clippings. His red eyes repeatedly trace over Doctor Otto Octavius’s name, entertaining the idea that he may be able to provide a cure…

And that's season 1 wrapped folks! Now tell me, do you want another season? Lmk!

Vampire Miguel has surpassed Pilot Miguel in size, and I thought that series was huge! If you haven't read it, part 1 is here.

124 pages, 63,860 words and have been writing it since early September 2024. It has been an interesting journey to say the least, but has been a fun AU to explore!

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

Thank you to those who enjoyed the series. Likes, comments and re-blogs are always appreciated.

I have a different series in mind which is currently in the works, so stay tuned on my Twitter, or if you're in my discord, you'll hear progress on the new series there too. ;)

Love, Rose Celeste xx

[phiclets]

loud heart WORD COUNT: 1500 | RATING: T

summary: the orange heart reply was a cultural moment; this is my vision of what might have led up to dan posting it.

a/n: i posted this on AO3 a couple days ago, but had to wait till tumblr verified i wasn't a robot to crosspost here. from now on all my fics will be available in both places!

ALSO ON AO3

-

Dan knew what the response to We're All Doomed (now uploaded onto Youtube, forever) was going to be, even before he started scrolling through the comments and the tweets. He'd been doing the show long enough. Yet still, knowing it didn't prepare him for it emotionally. The kindness of people was overwhelming; the gratitude even more so.

He flits between social media platforms on his phone, reading the reviews and battling unsuccessfully against the growing lump in his throat, even as a recorded version of his voice says, "Anyone here planning on becoming a polyamorous lesbian grandma?" from the TV. Phil put the special on earlier — very proudly accessing it from the YouTube TV app, which made Dan smile — and they're letting it play in the background as they sit with their respective phones, having seen the show too many times already to totally invest in it again. But it's nice. Comforting.

Raucous cheers erupt from the sea of future polyamorous lesbian grandmas in the audience, and Dan glances up at the TV with a smile. He loves this part. He loved that audience, both nights—and the wider group of people that they represented. "Nice," he says onscreen, which elicits some laughter.

A bright little ding! drags his attention back to his phone.

New tweet from Phil Lester.

It's natural for him to glance over to the man himself, curled up just an arm's length away from him. Phil is fiddling serenely with his phone, but looks up when he feels Dan staring. When Dan raises an eyebrow, Phil only responds with a shrug, smiling.

Dan obediently opens the tweet to see for himself.

every time i see this it makes me laugh and cry at the same time until i'm a shaking mess on the floor. great show thanks danny!!

Phil has quoted Dan's original announcement tweet, so the endorsement sits on top of Dan's name, glowing with pride. A few things happen at once in Dan then. First, there's the impulse to snort at the nickname danny, which is Phil being silly (and succeeding at it, as he always does). Then there's the warmth that suffuses his entire chest from Phil Lester openly expressing his emotions for Dan's sake on a public platform, an occurrence so rare it still shocks (and essentially assaults) Dan whenever it happens. Then, from that warmth, comes the immediate, overwhelming, not so inexplicable urge to sob his lungs out.

"Fuck," he whispers, so quietly it's only a breath, and quickly smothers it in the sleeve of his jumper, turning away from Phil's side of the sofa.

Because it's all so familiar. Because he's been here before—so many times. Reeling from the adrenaline of releasing a project he poured his heart and soul—or at the very least, a lot of his time—into. Anxious about and then overjoyed by the response to it. But no matter what it was, whether Basically I'm Gay, or Why I Quit YouTube, or fuck, even Hello Internet—

Phil has been there.

Phil is always there. Always here—he thinks, looking over at him finally—next to him. In his life. (Hadn't he said that to everyone on the internet before? Hadn't he thought it was so cheesy back then, and yet regretted nothing, because there hadn't been a single lie in what he'd said?) Phil sits in ignorant bliss on the other end of the sofa, tucked up against the armrest, tapping at something on his phone. His hair is turning more ginger by the day. His face has faint lines in it that Dan has seen appear, firsthand and little by little, over the past decade and a half. His emoji pyjama pants are a hate crime on fashion.

He's everything. He's there.

"Dan."

Dan comes back to himself, and he realises Phil is looking at him now, questions displayed openly on his face. Dan can't really read any of them, though—the fucking oceans of saltwater that have built up in his eyes are doing a brilliant job of preventing that. He shakes his head, and Phil's face sinks further into concern rather than confusion, and Dan shakes his head again to tell him no, it's not bad. It can never be bad when it's you.

Instead all he manages to say, now half nodding and shaking his head—it's a mess—is, "I love you."

He's never meant it more. He's always meant it just as much as now. He thinks he'll never really know, even in himself, what that word really means or where the limits lie—if there are any. What he does know is that he's going to spend the rest of his life growing to fit every bit of it he can. Phil takes his hand where it rests on the sofa between them, and Dan knows there was never any two ways about it.

"Yeah," Phil says. He's so solid. (So there. Always.) He looks Dan in the eyes, shakes his hand back and forth. "I love you."

The first spill of tears warms Dan's cheeks. He nods, looking down at their hands, then back up at Phil. He knows his mouth is doing something funny, squeezed up tight like he's just bit into a lemon, and there are tears already seeping in through the corners, and by the time he barely breathes out a, "Thank you," he's already diving into Phil, grabbing him up into a messy, breath-robbing hug. He can hear it in Phil's little gasp. But there's not a moment of hesitation between that and the feeling of Phil's arms wrapping around him, tight as ever. Assuring as ever.

"Thank you," Dan says again. And he hopes Phil knows he means for everything. For seeing him in the replies of his tweets in 2009, and for responding. For urging him to post the worst video Dan would ever make, which would confusingly also be his best one, because it would be the one that started it all. For having so much fun with him and helping him build a career out of it. For supporting him (15 years' worth of "great show thanks danny!" variations). For believing in him. For loving him, really, most of all.

Phil pushes his cheek into the top of Dan's head, and smooths his hand over Dan's hair again and again, and says, "Always."

Yeah, he understood.

-

By the time Dan has collected himself, enough time has passed that it would be embarrassing if he had even a shred of embarrassment left to show around Phil Lester, but he thinks that died somewhere around the decade mark.

They're still all caught up in each other, more one human than two, a blanket monster that's made its home against the tiniest corner of a perfectly sizeable sofa. We're All Doomed is well into its final quarter on the TV now, and they're sort of staring past it into the wall and the world and the future beyond. Phil's fingers are still in Dan's hair; which is just the way he wants to keep it.

Except that's when Dan remembers the thing that started his descent into incomprehension in the first place, and he briefly—with enough warning to Phil—sits up to get his phone from his previous spot on the sofa. He settles back into Phil with it in hand, so Phil has a clear view of the screen over his shoulder, and pulls up the tweet again. He scrolls down and taps on the waiting reply line, then stops.

How to say everything he just said to Phil, verbally and otherwise? (Mostly otherwise, let's be honest.) The task seems insurmountable. There aren't enough words in the dictionary, or hours in the day to use them. He can feel Phil's quiet expectance over his shoulder, steady but not applying any pressure. He'll wait for Dan as long as he needs him too.

But it doesn't take long. Because hey, Dan may be a self-professed yapper extraordinaire, but even he knows when the game is up. In this case there's just no use.

He pulls up the list of emojis, and taps on one.

Just one.

Then he waits, holding the phone just there, letting Phil see it and understand that that's it. All he wants to say. (Maybe all he's ever trying to say, to Phil.)

It's a heart.

(Orange, of course, because it's still about WAD.)

But just a heart.

Dan twists his head against Phil's shoulder to look up at him. "What d'you think?"

Phil is still looking ahead at the screen, and Dan watches the microscopic changes in expression on his face, from the softening of his wide eyes to the way his mouth gently relaxes into a smile. He looks down at Dan—Dan thinks, beautiful, mine—and says, "Yeah." Dan feels Phil's arm squeeze him around his stomach. "Do it."

So he does.

[tortoisesshells]

Thank you, @aloveforjaneausten, for the kind tag!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

79, but a pretty significant number are little ficlets with less than 300 words.

2. What's your total A03 words count?

378,686.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mercy Street, 1899, Pirates of the Caribbean, Timeless, MCU, Turn: Washington's Spies, Band of Brothers, Fallout series, the Blackwell series, Agatha Christie's Poirot, apparently.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Customs and Duties (PotC); Treason Crackling in Your Blood (MCU); Maybe Everything That Dies (MCU); the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war (PotC); Suffer A Sea Change (PotC).

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do. As others more astute than me have observed, it's not just the gratitude that someone told me how they felt about something I wrote, but because I love hearing about how people are engaging with the source work in the first place. Community, I suppose.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think nearly every fic I've written ends at least somewhat unhappily, or leaves the door wide open to future problems. Maybe glazed already the eye, yet life struggles hard on the basis of it ending at the absolute nadir of Henry Hopkins' self-esteem and over-arching moral quandary in-show? Or maybe it's just my favorite ending. Who can say?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I can't think of a fic I've written with an unambiguously happy ending, to be honest - probably (people like me) don't live to feel? sure, the main characters are walking off stab wounds/concussions, but that's a day in the life for that universe.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Here? No. In a past life (high school fic writing account)? Yes. I don't remember the fic, but I remember the comment with pretty exact clarity.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Either I'm ludicrously repressed, or I'm the most interested in characters who are ludicrously repressed, or both.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Yes, and I think the one that's at least, on its face, the wackiest, is probably the ongoing Mercy Street/Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter one.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Yeah! Shout-out to the Mansion House Murder Party. <3

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

I can't really say I've got one (even 'ships that I'm very interested in, I'm always willing to split up for the sake of exploring something else in their characters?) - though I suppose I'd probably refuse to read any fic that broke up Catherine Moreland and Henry Tilney, maybe. If that's anything.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I hate to say Customs, because I'm so close that I can taste it and I have a good outline to the end, but - I've sort of lost faith in sticking the ending, and it really does feel like part of the ending requires Nellie to do something a little out of character. So -?

16. What are your writing strengths?

Details. I'm good with details.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

No one's ever accused me of writing a fast-moving fic. I know my pacing tends towards the glacial.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I wouldn't - I'd have to trouble a native speaker, because even the languages I know enough to string a sentence or several together in will seem, well. Like a non-native speaker wrote them. Plus - hmm. I'd be providing a translation back into English anyway - I'd feel like I was just showing off, in a way. Badly. And I do enough peacocking with historical trivia that I ought to keep the posturing to a minimum elsewhere.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

There's a composition notebook in a landfill somewhere with a handwritten-in-gel-pen Hornblower fanfic that never saw the light of internet publication.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

I hate to have the same answer every time, but - Suffer a Sea Change. It's the cleanest-paced, least insufferable thing I've ever written.

Tagging: @shoshiwrites, @mercurygray, @jomiddlemarch, @sagiow, @theonlyredcar, & anyone else who wants!

[wiedzmacienia]

arms reach up toward the ceiling as the witch begins to stretch her body, almost like a cat. a small yawn soon accompanies it, her retort emitting muffled. "there's still time." her tone is light-hearted now that she's truly becoming aware of the world around her again, warmth from the sun filtering in through the windows and casting shadows about the loft. kasia hadn't gotten much sleep, at least not restful sleep. not with checking in on matthew every so often and the fact that three vampires had decided to wake up at the crack of dawn. if only the silly legends the media had come up with about vampires were correct, then perhaps she'd have been able to sleep longer. then again, elijah wasn't a vampire and his tip-tapping on the keyboard would have awoken her either way.

an eyebrow raise is offered as sea hues watch the human eye his cup and make a valiant attempt at drinking from it. and when he places it back on the table she allows a soft laugh to escape her upon her triumph. though, perhaps, she does feel somewhat sorry he now held no coffee to drink. "oh is there?" she questions rhetorically as her eyes wash over his computer screen. "frankly, i'm surprised there's not more pictures like that floating around." it was so much easier to maintain an immortal life before the camera was invented. back when people only had drawings and paintings to go off of, if you were one of those who held the opportunity of such being done of you. and if you hadn't wanted to be known by others? that had been so much more achievable than now with so many types of social media and facial recognition implanted in every kind of cctv out there.

"at least most of what's out there about me is obscure rumor, misdirected information, and... paintings. it seems i've done much better at avoiding the photographical age than my brother." which, was true yet the validity of her point was perhaps overshadowed by the fact a version of her existence was very much a matter of the public record. she'd avoided cameras but hadn't avoided history by virtue of who she had married and his importance to the history of the country her and elijah lived in. (and by god, people loved a good spy story these days too.) of course, no one knew the truth of her, that she was a witch or an immortal or even any part of her involvement in the war of the time but her name was known if one searched it online, a few images of paintings even appearing. there was a reason she didn't use her married name anymore even if she still considered it her name for death did not mean she had not had a husband and a family once, nearly two centuries ago perhaps but still close to her heart even now. she supposed, too, that she towed too close to the line far more than kasper did by fact that she still maintained the property in connecticut and there was a family portrait, painted of course, in the local museum just down the road from it.

her dogs bound into the living room then, cato flying onto the couch with a toy in his mouth and hamlet making a beeline for elijah and his computer as if the dog failed to notice the obstacles in his path, namely the laptop. everything happens in such fast succession it's a wonder she's able to act at all. hamlet jumps, knocking directly into the computer, his back leg hitting the table as the cup spills and kasia sends out her shadows as the laptop begins to fall, shadows forming into a kind of strange fog-like pillow that just barely saves the devise before it seems to be floated onto the ground. but the spilled coffee, well, that had certainly gotten everywhere.

"hamlet! you know better than that! get down, now!" caught in the act, the dog begins to whine, moving to lay down by elijah's feet as cato looks back and forth in confusion over the tone. she sighs, heavily. this wasn't the best start to the day and her previous comment only seemed to spark something within her emotions making the day feel off-kilter in a strange way.

"what are your plans for the rest of the day? i'm going to check on matthew in a bit but-- if all seems well on that front i was thinking of taking you somewhere." somewhere that might answer some of the questions she's known he's been itching to ask her but had refrained. and she respected him for not pushing her. but.. she did trust him now because he'd earned it. he was one of the extremely few that had and she wonders if he actually knew that that shift had transpired in a real way or if she'd remained so stand-offish at times that he hadn't known she did consider him a friend beyond just being a part of their team. "yaling's not the only one that gets to kidnap you."

Elijah Sutton is not a snoop.

He likes to learn, yes ( pursuing knowledge with the intensity of a cat chasing after a laser pointer; the more obscure and unknown, the better ), but what sort of historian would he be if he didn't? It's all to create a compendium the Knights of Soteria can use, even if he's the only one currently capable of comprehending the physical appendices he's in the process of creating, and the sole person who also carries it in its entirety in his head. Certain elements he investigates might not be pertinent to that but —

Well, perhaps Elijah is a bit of snoop ( for the sake of history in general, and he will not waver from that assertion! ).

As the sound of his fingertips against laptop keys quietly fills Kasia's apartment, however, he has to admit that sometimes, his motives for research are rather selfish, too ( to him, anyway ). Focusing on facts, elements of eternity past that cannot change, grounds him in what's real and certain and what he knows is true.

Dates etched into time itself. Who has done what. Who Elijah is.

That's all especially accurate when he can't sleep, even following a mission that called for him to leave the office. He pretended not to be awake periodically throughout the night to ward off comments, evening his breaths and parting his lips slightly, though he's certain that it's impossible to truly fool some members of the unit; at the very least, they might have believed he was trying to fall back into slumber and not that he hadn't achieved it at all.

Once it was only Elijah, Kasia, and Matthew left in the apartment, he had forfeited the charade and begun working. One rabbit hole led to another that led to another, until time had thoroughly ceased to exist. He hasn't quite recognized that his eyes have shifted from a picture on his laptop screen to Kasia's visage, nor the acute concentration of his stare, until her own gaze is suddenly glaring back at him.

"Well, you haven't turned me into a toad yet." It's the kind of threat that used to set him a little on-edge when initially sent his way, though he finds them amusing now, as evidenced by the hint of a grin that appears upon his face. Regardless, Elijah's not quite sure how to answer the question that's tacked onto it, so he shifts his attention fully onto the matter of the coffee mug.

He wishes he hadn't.

Glancing at the cup beside him for a long moment ( perhaps explains the odd taste; he had thought he was so tired that he was imagining it ), he says finally, "That's fine." Elijah grips the handle and brings it to his lips, of the mind to drink out of it directly in front of her to prove his unbotheredness. However, as soon as he feels the warmth of the coffee on his face, he can't stop thinking about what might be in it — no, no, no — and it's returned to the table.

He clears his throat before continuing, "I'm catching up on some things. You know I don't like falling behind. But I just found it interesting," Elijah turns his computer screen around to face her, "that there's a photograph online of your brother onstage with Jefferson Airplane in 1965." Tipping his head, his eyes flicker up to the ceiling, then back to Kasia's countenance as another grin plays across his mouth. "So, it's not about you this time. Only tangentially related, if that makes it better."

[dreamesamu]

Hiii, may I request a part-2 of haikyuu boys telling their s/o that they embarrassed him with sakusa and iwaizumi pleaseeee? I really loved the first part hehe.

TELLING THEIR S/O THEY EMBARRASSED THEM

featuring. Sakusa, Iwaizumi.

genre: angst to fluff, timeskip!.

author's note: wow, I was surprised. I'm very glad that you loved it, and I hope this is what you're waiting for. thank you and ily. maybe I took too long to complete this quest because I'm out of ideas lol. please, idk what is wrong with the Iwa's part

⤿ part one | part two

sakusa kiyoomi

being the partner of a professional athlete is not very easy.

especially when he receives an invitation to the press conference that mentions bringing a partner for information purposes.

and of course, he brings you with him.

your enthusiasm quickly vanished when you realize you barely know anybody but the MSBY in this crowded room.

you have a point in keep clinging to his arm and nuzzle behind his tall frame.

and it's getting annoying (for him)

even if he's having a conversation with someone else, your hands on his arm are not going anywhere, eyes observing everything around you with an anxious look.

"stop clinging around, y/n. I've got to do this."

he brushes your hands off to pick up the pen, thin lines been written, cheeks softly turned pink while apologizing to the receptionist for your behavior, which she secretly giggles.

and that's the nth time he reminds you to let go, your mouth only shaped an 'O' in realize and apologizing. and he just rolled his eyes very slightly every time you look away, haven't adapted to the uneasy crowded environment, staring directly at a random person and trying to find them familiar.

Sakusa is just exactly the same as your situation. He doesn't like too noisy and crowded places. He might bite out of nowhere if somebody touches him, fighting with germs is the most frightening thing in his life, think of it makes him feel extremely irritated and uncomfortable, and having you clinging around worse the tension atmosphere – the attention.

you really don't care about that but glued your hands on him to keep yourself followed. like, no one likes being lost, are they? but he reflexily flinches when someone takes a picture of the both of you and giggled in comments, the result of lowkey wants to brush you off, but if he does, are you even standing here with a calm expression?

Sakusa sighs in relief as he finally separates from you, and doesn't forget to tell you to stay still before following one of the staff to the podium for the small interview: him winning an important match. you do, but dumbfounded in the sea of people, eyes glue to the familiar black curled locks on the wide table.

And you can clearly tell, he's right now dealing with some questions that only pissing him off, you catch his gaze once he glares at you secretly, the telepathy mind sends you some shiver as if you've done something wrong, you facepalm in confusion.

"Omi-omi, what's the matter? What have I done?"

You question him after the third time he ignores you post-interview, and this time is the fourth.

"Kiyoomi!"

You call, in which he responds with a tongue click and a death glare.

"You know what? You're annoying as fuck, you being clingy since we first step into this room, you brought up attention, and so unexpected, the questions are all about you and your 'cuteness'!"

He snaps, and you stumble back, eyes slightly widen.

"Wait what? you gotta be kiddin', I didn't do such things?"

your head tilts in confusion, Sakusa swears if he's not in public right now, he may be irritated to death looking at your innocent face that neither he's sure if you're playing dumb or not.

"Nah, I'm not kidding right now, it just... you are embarrassed me. so please, don't hug my arm and just tryna catch up."

Sakusa tries to relax, he doesn't want any more attention, it evidently appears in his look and the words he speak.

"Okay, cool. you've already known what kind of a person am I. and now you're complaining about that?"

you only raise an eyebrow, hands crossed on your chest, looking at him with an unamused look, his eyes roll.

"ehhh... that won't change anything, but maybe I won't do that anymore if that's what you requested."

you look down on your foot before glancing back at him with unbothered hidden in your eyes, strangely, there's no hint of anger or hurt, it's just your neutral expression he sees every day. and he hesitantly decides to agree, wondering why you react like that.

I mean, you cannot tell others to change their habits instantly, right? so, that would be pretty unexpected to hear them agree without any retort, obey like a good dog. now you know how Sakusa felt unusual right now, but he'd be glad you stayed true to your words and don't do it.

your poor heart, in fact, is lurching somewhere in your stomach that you don't even realize. You don't expect him to be affected like that, and whether he meant it or not, there's no definitive answer. A slice of disappointment and the insecure feelings out of nowhere gradually eat up your mind, at least you would try to listen to what he has said.

"And that's all for today, thank you Mr. Sakusa to spend your precious time for us."

The moment he bows down to greet the reporter, you are nowhere to be found causes a question mark appears on top of his head, Sakusa grumpily exits the crowded, non-stop mumbling something under his mask, irking while blaming you for not following him.

Sakusa takes a breather. The realization dawns on him. is that what he wants? you, non-being clingy? If he haven't said those things, he wouldn't be this dumbfounded, now, he cannot spot any signs of your presence, worries fill up like a lost puppy in the crowded room. he starts to search for you, no phone pickups, no replied messages, the panicky feeling was increasingly igniting in him every time he fails to see you.

There you are, standing alone in the airy corridor, the summer breeze fluffy blows up your hair, mouth humming some random melody stuck on your mind, much to Sakusa's relief, you are okay.

You catch his eyes when he suddenly approaches you, he startles at the moment with his blush hiding against the thin fabric hiding under the tall collar of his Black Jackals jacket. He swears he does see you giggle before taking a step closer to him and look at him in the eye, with no signs of anger, instead he caught a faint glimpse of melancholy.

"Hey there Omi-omi have you done yet? can we go home now?"

he frowns, due to the fact that you don't want to stay here for more than a second, most of all, because of him.

"I- have a dinner meeting with the Black Jackals later. Would you li-"

"Ah... okay! then maybe I will go home now, it feels a bit inconvenient for you if I'm here, you know me right? I couldn't predict what trouble I would make if I go there."

you cut him off, laughing awkwardly while leisurely scratching the nape that somehow feels itching, avoiding his gaze. his nose once again scrunches up, tries to soothe the heart is now aching very slightly. silence causes the extremely awkward tension around the both of you, you gulp and nervously playing with your fingers, directly earning the stare he gave and a stark expression. You give up.

God brings him back to Earth the moment you tilted your head in a very confusing way, hand waved goodbye as you were going to leave, catching his attention.

"Y/n, wait!"

Sakusa immediately panick and it takes him three steps to grasp on your wrist, causes you to turn around. he met with the glossy eyes of yours, lips lightly trembling so vulnerable, you are about to cry. He hugs you close in order to not seeing how pathetic he seems to be after his heart has stifled of knowing he hurt his little baby.

"Hey, I'm sorry, baby. please don't leave, I need you here."

"But... you told me I was-" you automatically burst into tears when his apology touches your heart.

"Nonono, that's not true, please. I don't like physical touch but you didn't embarrass me, I was too uncomfortable with all of the eyes on us and maybe I was harsh..."

"too harsh," you mumble sulkily, sobbing so tiny in his embrace.

"I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you that way." - he coos, hand rubbing your back affectionately to calm you completely down. - "I don't want to be annoyed by the female staff when you are not around, please protect me."

he break the hug and give you a small pout the moment he confirms there is nobody around, your soft giggles are melodies.

"Alright, I have no choice to come to the dinner, huh? can't let my Omi-Omi getting hit on, yeah?"

he fakes a cough to hide his blush as your heart swells to the scene, butterflies flying in your stomach and nothing is gonna stop you from tiptoeing to give him a kiss.

iwaizumi hajime

a small dinner reunion with your Iwa-chan and some old classmates sounds amazing, you would attend as his s/o for the first time after a while being best friends.

and you, who has a childish personality couldn't hide the excitement when you see that not only your classmates from Seijoh, there's the whole volleyball club joining.

here comes the big and great best friend, Oikawa Tooru, the one you used to collaborate with to annoy tf off your current boyfriend.

sheesh, there must be so many topics to talk about, how's their life going lately always in your concern.

still, you couldn't resist the temptation Oikawa gives you to once again provoke the vice-captains of those days, at the game that no one of you wants to miss.

and maybe... it went too far?

Iwaizumi stares at you curiously as your giggles faintly tickle his ears, there you are, sitting between Seijoh's volleyball boys, spin the bottle with all of your enthusiasm.

"Aaaand... Y/n!" - Oikawa exclaim lordly converse to your disgust reaction - "Now, you gotta choose truth or dare, just randomly pick, I'll promise to send you to hell"

"Arghh, not again!" - you grumpily facepalm yourself while Iwa's sitting on the opposite chuckles softly. the Seijoh's setter happened to be so enthusiastic to earn his right to question.

"That happened to be destiny... Ow! okay fine truth or dare?" Oikawa sends you a smug grin while rubbing his head force your eyes to roll around, hand goes a little numb at the interaction.

"How about truth?" you ask, doubting the pretty setter.

"Brilliant choice, sheesh. now tell me, what is Iwa's small secret?"

Oikawa proudly smirks while everybody sits around impressed by it, Makki and Mattsun chuckles can be heard.

"Iwa secret- wait, what?" your eyes immediately widen the moment you let the question goes in. your eyes reflexively take a small glance toward your man to meet with a blushy face and a slight glare when you gulp as a reaction while Oikawa crossed his arm and raises his eyebrows in an amusing way.

"Tooru, are you serious? that's so mean to Iwa, don't you think?"

welp, you trying refused to answer the question for your damn sake, even though, you did really think that question was too embarrassed to say it out loud. curse the one who thought about this.

"Aww, c'mon! one secret being exposed won't kill you, dummy."

"Okay, then how about dare?" you helplessly glowered your eyes, immediately change your intention. and Oikawa's mischievous giggles have irritated you further.

"Go over there, and kiss Mattsun's cheek." he points out in a friend's direction. once again, a pair of eyes widen, but not yours, it's Iwa's. everybody knows that Mattsun used to has a crush on you in the back school days, but this event was unexpected, and the pink tint displayed on Mattsun's cheek has confirmed Iwa's doubt. nothing can stop the confusion covered all over Iwaizumi's place he was struggling to choose truth or dare instead of you. you nervously spare him a glance in which he just glares back. your lips pursed in, eyes go shut when you mumbled a small "I'm sorry babe" into his vision.

"Fine, I'll choose truth." you sigh, and Iwa sits up straight look so alarmed, too late for him to find a shelter for hiding and deadly embarrassed when the small secret is being exposed by the one he trusts to tell.

"Seriously, I'm out of here." Iwaizumi furiously stands up and stomps out of the room in shame while his teammates just died laughing inside the room.

"What a child, you should follow him, y/n. pfttt. he might suicide I swear..." Oikawa tries to keep back his laughter while you once again awarded him with a smack in the head.

"Shut the fuck up you dumbass, I swear I'll beat you up later." you snapped and run away from the circus which was still laughed out loud on the floor.

"Hajime?" you call, remove the small bunch of leaves, sigh in relief to see your lovely boyfriend standing alone, the pink tint still cling to his cheeks.

"Yes, darling?" Iwa's head turns it directly to you, mockingly replies with a trace of bitterness in his voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to exposed it, It's just a game."

"just a game? just a game my ass, you were fucking embarrassed me you know? can you just find a way to excuse, please?" - He can't help it anymore, all the angriness now he is pouring all on you by steps closer and shake your shoulders aggressively, you're on the brink of tears when he ignores it and continues to shriek. - "How could you do that? Is there anything else you can do to be useful?"

"Haji- I'm sorry please, I'm hurting-"

he pushed you very slightly to take back his hands, walk away while spending his time calm down, your heart swears that it didn't affect by his words, but it did. the happy night was ruined.

"I'll leave you alone until you completely calm down, it's just a game, Haji, don't act like a child."

you nonchalantly retort, and he turns his head back, dumbfounded at the reaction you gave, it scared the fuck out of him of thinking you'll ignore him for the rest of the night sounds too uncomfortably, most of all, Mattsun still haven't got over you yet, this might be a perfect chance for him, and Iwa couldn't let him do that in any way. he watches you leaving, his hand couldn't standstill.

"I'm sorry."

"Haji- please-"

"I know I'm stupid, I'm childish, I'm dumb. but I swear that secret is the one that makes me feel insecure. but don't leave me, it'll make me feel plenty of that."

"yes I know but nghhh... you hug me too tight, c-can't breathe... haaaa, better."

you can't help but chuckle at his dumbfounded adorable face when the heat once again creeps up his cheeks.

"Oh, I don't even know what I am apologizing for." he sighs.

"Shush, what a grumpy baby, you'll always be my baby, don't say such an unpleasant word, got it?"

"fine... ow! don't pinch my face, y/n."

"say that again."

"I'm sorry, I won't do that anymore... happy now?"

"Very."

and from that, he was awarded with kisses all over his place, autocorrect, please, the happy night has never been ruined.

© 2021 dreamesamu. All rights reserved.

[burnedbyshoto]

split

— Shouto becomes victim of a quirk accident. In that he become two people who get along as well as fire and ice do. They clash at every moment, and only seem to agree on one thing: their love for you. Or in which Shouto gets split into two by a quirk that spilts chimeras and in order for peace to be found you find yourself in a threesome with two halves that make the one you love most.

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pairing: split!todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, threesome, split!shouto, anal, double penetration, blowjob, rimming, cunnilingus, cursing, degradation, praise 

word count: 8,930

a/n: LMAOOOOOO this waas actually fun to write the names I gave them were super easy because I am uncreative. I used an anons rec for shoutos hero name: reisho so that’s what that is. and thank you to my lovely canasian for finding the original drabble I wrote. pls enjoy!

kinktober day 6 main kink: threesome

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“What’s going on?”

It was a series of words that often came out of your mouth because, as a Pro Hero, there were many times where you had no idea what was going on. It usually ranged from asking why Kaminari and Kirishima were giggling and avoiding your gaze when you walked into a room to coming onto an active battle where Bakugou and Midoriya were bloodied and crazed. There was nothing off-limits to those words, as they were, after all, said in complete confusion. 

“Where is he?!” you tried again, watching as nineteen different eyes look everywhere but at you.

However, it was without given when you watched your twenty -- wait, was that twenty-one? -- former classmates both stumble into one another as they turn to face you.

“Y/l/n-chan!” Mina squeaked, stepping up from the crowd, trying to cover up the two people in there that you couldn’t quite recognize as your classmates. “How was patrol? I heard that Todoroki-kun left you midway!”

You wished that last comment didn’t make your cheeks burn as intensely as it did.

Today had been one of the rare days that you had gone off on your route with your boyfriend, Todoroki Shouto. Both of you watched the busy streets and whispering between yourself as you avoided the masses, not wanting to get caught up with fan interactions that were rather unneeded. But there had been a large altercation that required Shouto’s expertise. Specifically, the voice at headquarters commanded that you stay on patrol while Shouto would leave. So you had watched as Shouto placed a hand on your cheek, his thumb softly petting your cheek, his smile warm.

“I’ll be back,” he had promised before taking off in a mist of ice and fire.

You continued the rest of your patrol with a rather childish pout on your face, you hadn’t enjoyed being sidelined like this, but you calmly assessed the situation. It probably wasn’t a fight you would be much aid in, and there was never a reason to send more than enough heroes onto a single area. But your route was coming to an end, and Shouto had still yet to reappear. Trying not to overthink it, you frowned while passing a store with TVs out in front.

Staring at the bright, flashing screen, you suddenly felt a sense of panic at the headliner: Chimera Quirk-Wielding Villain Apprehended by Pro Heroes Froppy, Pinky, and Reisho. (slight injuries on the hero team.)

With concern pitting up horribly in your stomach for your friends and boyfriend, you finished your assignment as calmly as you could, before finally getting to rush back to your agency. You had taken to the rooftops to get there as quickly as you could.

Through all that, you found yourself right where you had been in the beginning, staring at Mina, who despite the few scrapes of dirt and soot on your costume, looked normal. Your eyes glanced over at Tsuyu, who, like Mina, was unharmed -- which left Shouto.

“Something strange happened during that battle,” Momo spoke up, her face set with concern, her eyes, although not horrified, was definitely a bit at a loss for an explanation.

“Wha--?”

“The person we fought against could make chimera’s out of people, but the limits of their quirk meant that once they made a chimera, they couldn’t add more to the creation,” Mina explained, her head nodding as she looked from Momo to you. Her fingers were tugging at her pink curls, and you tilted your head.

“Is Shouto still smashed together with someone or something?” you asked, a bit hesitant to see what potentially horrific creation your boyfriend could have turned into. “I’ve seen Shouto show up home after the poop-villain fiasco, I swear I won’t cry if he’s ugly!”

“Well, no, kero,” Tsuyu frowned, her finger pressing to her lower lip as she tilted her head. “Mina-chan and I were a chimera for a bit, and the quirk has a limit when they make a chimera.”

You didn’t like how that was worded.

“Just fucking show her the idiots who threw the match!” Bakugou snapped, his eyebrows furrowed as he shoved the crowd away in the middle, parting them like Moses did the red sea. 

Idiots? You thought, your confused expression growing as you looked from Bakugou’s frowning face onto what they had been hiding from you.

And you instantly understood why when you were greeted with two heads. One entirely redheaded, the other entirely white-haired, each with identical faces who looked at you with the same tone to their eyes.

“You see, their quirk can also separate chimera’s, and well… I — we, guess that Todoroki-san is one,” Momo informed you as you stared at opposite replicates of your loving boyfriend. “The villain said they’ve never split a natural-born human chimera before, it had been their first time, so the lasting effects of the quirk are unknown.”

The redheaded Shouto still sported a scar on his face, but he felt completely different. His face was cold, stare distant, and burning with a suppressed, denied fury that you couldn’t recognize on him outside of a battlefield. But even with the cold look encompassing his body and stature like a thick sheet of ice, when he looked at you with his set of two burning turquoise eyes, you knew his feelings for you were still the same.

The white-haired Shouto had no scar, and he looked much closer to the man you knew currently, except maybe a bit more open? His face quipped into a smile, his eyes swimming with mirth, joy, and content with finally seeing you here, all good emotions but emotions you weren’t used to him exposing to the public like this. But even with the warm, loving look burning softly around him, his set of grey eyes shone with feelings you knew were true.

“My boyfriend is split into two?!”

There was something wrong with that sentence, something that carried heat because the moment you said those words, both Shouto’s seemed to freeze next to each other. Icy and fiery glares meeting in an electric firestorm as Deku promptly dragged you out of the room with Momo and Mina. You struggled against Deku’s iron grip, only seeing white-haired Shouto’s jaw drop in the beginnings of a speech while redheaded Shouto glowered at him with all the intensity he could muster.

“Y/l/n-san, we need you to never, ever mention that they’re the same person,” Deku immediately spoke as soon as the door between the hallway and the room where the Shouto’s were closed. “He’s — they’re — not handling that information very well, and are acting rather… immature about who the real ‘Todoroki-kun’ is.”

“They’re not connected by the same mind?!” you spluttered, your own mind feeling like it was split down the middle at the hypothesis that your boyfriend was both of these men, but none of them. “So, it’s like a split personality manifesting completely?”

“We’re a bit sure on how to compare it to something such as dissociative disorder,” Momo spoke calmly, undoubtedly her mind working a mile a millisecond to make sense of the strange predicament you all were in. “He’s been in here for some time now. And from what we’ve managed to question from him, both parts of Todoroki-san remember everything. It seems they differ in just how they felt about it on an emotional basis.”

You blinked once, twice.

“Do you mind giving me an example?”

Goddamn idiot you were.

“Well, I guess the bigger emotional differences were during our high school years,” Midoriya mumbled, his fingers pinching his lower lip in thought. “A good example would be why he challenged me during the sports festival. Redhead Shouto said he did it because he hated Endeavor so much back then he was willing to prove his strength no matter what. White-haired Shouto says it was an overreaction on his own part and that he’s truly sorry.”

You frowned.

“It almost sounds like if Todoroki-san’s quirk had been only one of his parents, and his two halves are insights to the life he would have led if he had only one,” Momo offered a pursed stare. She didn’t seem too sure of her conclusion, but for you, it was enough.

“Honestly, you were the only one I saw both Todoroki-kun’s act the same toward!” Mina exclaimed, her hands grabbing your shoulders as she leaned in close, a sly grin on her face. “It’s like the two of you are destined lovers, no matter how the world is!”

“Mina!” you whined, feeling utterly embarrassed as she snickered loudly, her eye falling into a wink before straightening up.

“Alright, so just a recap: don’t mention which one is the ‘real’ Todoroki,” Mina warned, already moving back into the room.

“What do we call them then?” you whispered, feeling not at all prepared to stare at two, stupid hot versions of your same boyfriend.

“Ah-ha, well,” Midoriya smiled embarrassed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as you all walked back in. “Only Kacchan brought up a nickname so far.”

“YOU STUPID FUCKING RED HALF!” Bakugou’s voice roared the moment the door opened, and immediately, you were pulled back into the mess of the situation. “I’LL MURDER YOUR ASS!”

“Someone was clearly not raised on manners,” came the snide remark from Shouto’s white half, and you watched on in horror as your old male classmates worked together to hold off all three rambunctious boys to keep from fighting.

“LET GO OF ME, SHITTY HAIR! I’LL GIVE THEM BOTH NEW SCARS IF THEY KEEP ACTING LIKE THIS!”

But you stared at the apathetic face on Shouto’s red half, his eyes somehow empty, dull, and angry as he glared at Bakugou.

Red half.

Red.

You looked at Shouto’s white half that was grinning at the challenge, icy frosting off his body akin to the explosions on Bakugou’s fists as he egged him on. 

White.

That would be easy enough.

You snorted, before walking forward, grabbing your boyfriend(s) hands in yours, and they quickly turned to look at you. Their gazes turning warm and full, their demeanor utterly different as the raging Bakugou faded into the background. 

“So, I’m sure you both know what’s going on at the moment,” you spoke clearly, just loudly enough to be heard over the popping explosions on Bakugou’s palms. “I also know you’re both confident in who you are, but the truth is you both have the same name, so we’re going to need a new thing to call the both of you. Is that okay?”

“Ah, I see,” white-haired Shouto nodded, his hand tightening around yours, his thumb running along the backside of your palm. “You will continue to call me Shouto, and we will call him, the Imposter.”

Wait, what?!

“I’m not the imposter,” redheaded Shouto rolled his eyes, taking the hand he held up to his lips, pressing a gentle, warm kiss to your knuckles — it contrasted chillingly with the cold, aloof tone he continues to have with his white half. “I am, after all, the one with the facial scar. It is the most recognizable feature of me. Clearly, you’re the imposter.”

You had to ignore the way your stomach fluttered and how your cheeks exploded in heat as both Shouto’s were suddenly kissing your knuckles. They only went further after leaving warm, chilling kisses on your skin. For they pulled you closer by your waist, a physical challenge between the two to claim you. Even though they both were for you.

It was only made worse by the wide-eyed, cheek splitting grins, and spluttering noises made by your old classmates who relished in this rom-com type embarrassment.

“Oh my god, enough!” you squeaked, trying to shove both overpowering men away from you.

“See, you’re being too much,” white-haired Shouto snapped, ripping you from redhead Shouto’s hold.

“Let. Y/n. Go.” redhead Shouto growled, hand exploding with fire, and you wrestled yourself out of white-haired Shouto’s hold to press your palms flat against each of their chests.

“You both better calm down right now, or else I’ll send you off with our friends until you’re back to normal!” you snap, your cheek radiating with explosive heat. With the threat heavy on their minds, redhead Shouto took away his flame, and white-haired Shouto took a less defensive stance. Relieved with their current treaty, you thrust a finger at both halves, looking between your way too amused classmates and your boyfriend(s). “You will be called Red--” you jabbed redheaded Shouto with your finger-- “and you will be White!” you spoke clearly, tapping white-haired Shouto with your other finger.

“Am I understood?”

Silence.

You glared at your boyfriend(s) who were staring down at you with wide eyes and gaping jaws.

“I said, am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” your boyfriend(s) sputtered.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Highlight of Day One of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Where is Red going to sleep?” White asked as you settled into the, thankfully, large bed the two -- now three -- of you shared. “On the floor?”

The bed had been a present from Endeavor when Shouto had moved into your apartment with you. It was much bigger than anything you owned, and while you hadn’t been fond of the length and stretch of the bed, you indeed were grateful for it now.

“Y/n likes to be warm when she sleeps,” Red duly noted, glaring at White the entire time it took him to crawl onto the right side of the bed. He settled right by you, arm wrapped around your waist, chin grazing against your temple. “You sleep on the floor.”

“You need comfort to stay beautiful, and since you’re eliminated from being that because of the scar on your face, you can sleep on the floor!” White countered while reciprocating the same position Red was doing.

Red’s eyebrow twitched at that before his glare soured and became icy cold, “I have the bigger co--”

“Both of you shut up now!” you snap, the palms of your hands shoving their faces away from one another. You were feeling more like a mother to a pair of troublesome twin toddlers than the girlfriend of your boyfriend(s). “I don’t want to hear it!” you groan as both their jaws dropped to attempt to speak their mind. “If you can’t shut up and sleep, I’ll sleep on the floor!”

“No!”

“No!”

“Then shut up, love me more, and let’s go to bed!”

…

…

…

“You don’t have the bigger cock--”

“Oh my god!”

“Please don’t go, my love, White is an idiot.”

Highlight of Day Two of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Well, this is certainly an interesting thing to be experiencing,” Rei’s gentle voice filled the room as both Red and White sat at her sides. Neither one of them touching her, but their gazes warm and soft for their mother. Rei touched the cheeks of both her son(s) and sighed softly before returning her attention to you. “Has it been hard? I do hope they’ve been behaving themselves.”

You smiled in hopes it would help to hide the grimace on your features as you laughed.

Just this morning, the two of them nearly burned down the kitchen while trying to outperform one another in making you breakfast in bed. It was of ample notice to realize that just one Todoroki Shouto was not to be trusted in the kitchen, but putting two Todoroki Shouto’s in there had caused them to somehow burn water and melt the stove.

The eggs they managed to pull together were burnt yet undercooked and had eggshells in them.

It wasn’t the worst meal you’ve had fun enough.

“They’re doing just fine,” you lie, your smile warm at the woman you would hope to one day become your mother-in-law. “Just a bit odd to deal with two people when I’m so used to one.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. In fact, they initially saw Shouto was to be twins, but he absorbed the other one in the womb,” Rei admitted, a small laugh on her tongue as she politely covered her mouth, her eyes closed in her mirth. “A bit funny how it seems like this could have been the outcome of that life.”

You feel a cold sweat drip on the back of your neck as Red straightens, his eyes darkening as he makes contact with Rei’s arm, and fear thrums through every fiber of your being.

“Kaa-san?”

“Yes, Shouto?” Rei asked, her warm grey eyes taking in Red’s gloomy form.

“White called me ugly.”

Highlight of Day Three of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“My love, I’m not feeling too well,” White groaned on the couch when you first arrived home.

Unfortunately, or fortunately for you, you were still being cleared to work during this time of split Shouto. After a much-needed relatively short time away from home, you had returned after a patrol to a clean apartment living room and Red sitting on the singles armchair, and White sprawled on the couch. 

You froze, Shouto hardly ever got sick! His internal temperature was always so in tune to the things around him that no virus, bug, or bacteria ever managed to infect him with sickness. For all five years of knowing him, you had never once seen him sick.

“Oh my god!” you panicked, rushing to remove your coat and shoes as you ran over to the couch to feel his forehead for a temperature.

He was running a bit cold, as he always did on his right side of his body, so you internally freaked about if this was normal or not! Your Shouto always had a specific spot on his forehead that was considered normal, but this was not your normal Shouto.

You were fucked, so wildly fucked.

“Are you okay? What do you need? I can go get you a blanket. I’ll get some soup going! What medicine do you think you need?!”

“There’s…” White trailed off in his exhaustion, his hands rubbing his face in probably his sick delirium. “There’s only one thing that will help…”

“What is it?” you asked, leaning in closer to him so that his flushed lips were centimeters from your ear.

“I need... “ he trailed off, and you leaned in closer, only to be suddenly trapped in his arms and pulled on top of him. “Some one-on-one time with my beautiful girlfriend!”

The scent of burning leather filled the room.

“WHITE PUT IT OUT! PUT OUT THE FIRE!”

“Princess, I’m not feeling good.”

Good fucking grief.

Highlight of Day Four of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

“Hot soba.”

“Cold soba.”

“Hot soba.”

“Cold soba.”

“Hot.”

“Cold.”

“Hot!”

“Cold.”

“The store has both!” you sobbed, your boyfriend(s) adopting their possessive hugging on your body while out in public as you had attempted to get them out of the house because you thought that maybe, just maybe, they were feeling stir-crazy.

“But we always share our soba noodles, y/n,” Red looked down at you, tilting your chin so that you could look at him clearly. “I know you love cold soba more.”

“We get it, Ice Princess, daddy hurt your feelings, and now you still hate everything hot! Get over it; y/n always buys hot soba when you’re not around.”

“G-Guys,” you whimper, suddenly feeling drowned out with the clashing of ice and fire personalities around you as the crowd watched on in bemusement. “Please stop.”

They suddenly both turned on you, their eyes narrowed, faces fierce as they both exclaimed at the same time: “Which soba do you like better?!”

You’re too exhausted of them to even scold them like you had used to anymore.

In the end, they tried to settle it via arm wrestling, which resulted in a horrible tie. They had both tried to use their quirks to win, somehow forgetting in the heat of their battle that their quirks not only canceled each other, but their strength was painfully equivalent. 

Highlight of Day Five of Living with the Todoroki Twins Boyfriend(s):

To be frank, you missed kissing Shouto.

With them being the way they were and how horribly chaotic they acted, you knew if you kissed one, it would lead to them both impregnating you and slipping an engagement ring on your pretty ring finger well before you were ready for either one of those things. So instead, you stared at both of their equally perfect lips.

Full, slightly pouty pink lips that were somewhat chapped as they always were due to his quirk elements. Full, soft lips that you had felt pressed to your hands and cheeks for the past five days, and yet you craved it to be pressed against your lips, but that was undoubtedly dangerous.

But you continued to stare at Red’s lips, at White’s lips.

You liked seeing how their teeth exposed themselves when they smiled, or how he had barely formed dimples on his cheeks, the smile lines that had finally formed on his previously smooth face. You liked seeing the way he bit on his lower lip when he held his tongue, or how his tongue seductively swiped his lips when he caught you staring.

Wait—?!

You snapped out of your daze, staring at the suggestive, all too pleased look on White’s face as he leaned in close to you while Red was busy performing his daily workout routine.

“You want to fuck while Not-the-real-Shouto’s busy? He won’t know, I promise.”

You flush.

“No!”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

It was day six of split Shouto when you woke up.

Your eyes stinging with exhaustion as you stared up at the ceiling as bodies of ice and fire sandwiched you between them. They snored softly, breathes deep and full in perfect harmony as they slumbered. You hated Shouto. You hated him so much.

This could have been a fantastic experience in your fantasies. Cloning quirks were a thing, and often you would hear about the sexual endeavors many partook in while in the company of someone with such quirk. It seemed like so much fun. Someone existing solely to be fucked, replicated from someone you already trusted.

It seemed perfect.

But here you were. Living the life of many porn fantasies, but the clones — not clones — hated one another. You couldn’t even so much as breathe next to one of them for too long before the other came to rip you away, annoyed, and ready to reclaim you. They were behaving as if you didn’t already belong to them.

Maybe you could have handled the lack of horny, lusting out of your mind sex if they had simply allowed you to kiss them without starting a war. But they claimed they would rather die than see you kiss someone that wasn’t them (singular them).

So, you were struggling.

The internal struggle only grew when they woke up at the same time. Growing when they both exposed their scarred, perfectly muscled, and toned body. It grew when they pressed their sinful body against yours, and you could only look up at them with eyes like a full moon, heat wet in your panties. You wanted something to happen because watching them go at it again for the fifty-third time today suddenly made your mind snap.

Since they wouldn’t seem to quit fighting, you might as well be fucked while they fought amongst themselves. You were a big girl, you could handle two cocks around your body.

At the moment, you were in the communal kitchen living room area. You sat at the table, trying to enjoy your cup of tea while they stood a few strides away from you… arguing.

“Would you both put those mouths to better use than fighting with each other?!” you finally snapped, your hands tugging at the roots of your hair after you placed down your cup of tea. They had been fighting for the past hour as to whether or not Shouto’s first costume idea was created because of Red or because of White. 

Neither one of them claimed responsibility on that one funny enough.

They fell silent immediately. Both their eyes wide, brows furrowed, and jaws gaping like a fish as they tried to separate their conversation from what you just said.

“Better use?” Red stated, his blink slow.

A curling, devious smirk spread on White’s face, “Oh, did my love finally cave to being fucked?”

“I didn’t think you would be into cucking,” Red admitted, his own smirk growing on his face while White frowned and glared at him. “What? It’s obvious it would be you tied up, White. You can’t expect y/n to trust either one of us to sit there, so she’d tie us up. My fire would easily destroy the bonds.”

Ah yes, how could you forget that they’d adopted only one half of the one quirk Shouto possessed. Now while you definitely wouldn’t mind cucking both sides of Shouto at some point, that wasn’t what you were craving at the moment.

“Y/n loves ice trailing down her body, I can definitely satisfy her better!”

“Like I said a few days ago, I have the bigger cock, so shut up and watch us.”

They were going to drive you insane.

Standing up from the table, the chair screeching against the floor as you did so, their attention fell on you. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks, your heart fluttering in your chest as turquoise and grey eyes that you could read like nothing gorged into your form. 

You settled between them, feeling dwarfed between their taller, muscled forms. Red was in a white t-shirt and sweats, White in a black shirt and dark jeans. You were unsure as to why you felt so shaken when you pressed your fingers between the valley of their pecs, your tongue heavy in your mouth. You blamed it on the six-day dry-feast the idiots put you in, and the mere thought of finally getting your way was exhilarating. 

“This is what’s going to happen,” you say with no room for arguing, your gaze meeting theirs through your eyelashes. “We are all going to fuck. There’s three of us, and I’m the one who wants to be satisfied, so this will be a threesome. Fuck me any way you want, I don’t care, but whoever starts fighting first gets cucked.”

Red is staring at you with his piercing turquoise eyes, White’s gaze dropped to your tracing finger on his chest. But the consensus was the same.

“Yes, ma’am.”

A warm, fluttery smile breached your face, and you nodded.

“Good… now, fuck me.”

They begin almost immediately. Two initially contradicting forces of fire and ice abandoning their internal surge for power to appease and please you. There’s no stopping the shiver and the moan trapped in your throat when two identical sets of hands you knew and craved the touch of finally made contact with your body. Red’s hands were on your breasts, groping and massaging your mounds of flesh while his mouth pressed tantalizing kisses along the curve of your neck, along the length of your clavicle. 

White had dropped down, his mouth pressing hot, kisses against the flesh of your thighs and your ass. His fingers pushing the sleeping shorts you still wore, his calloused fingers brushing against your clit. 

You openly moaned, hands pressing against both White and Red for some form of support.

“You’re already so wet,” White groans his observation, his finger slicking itself against your wet folds. 

You shake, your head nodding in full understanding as you began to rotate your hips against his finger. Of course, you were so wet, you thought, goosebumps flashing against your entire body when Red pinched your nipples through your light tank. 

“You try living with two of me and be denied every physical need,” you gasped, your voice pitching the moment Red’s teeth sank into the sweet spot on your neck the same time White’s finger curled within your walls. “Fuck…”

“It’s so cute when you whisper like that,” Red noted, his hands lifting your breast, tongue smoothing over your irritated skin. “I bet you didn’t mind our quirk accident because you wanted something like this.”

Now that was definitely something you couldn’t disagree about.

But with the way your body was so desperately deprived and how there were two sources of knowledge on you. Knowing the perfect sensations on your sensitive parts of your body, you pushed them away.

Grey and turquoise blazed into your skin, but you huffed, grabbing them by the hands and pulling on them.

“I want the bed,” you affirm, your cheeks feeling warm, your eyes keeping on theirs. “We’re fucking on the bed.”

“Of course, my love,” they responded together. And the heat in your body seemed to multiple when you pushed through into the room. 

Guiding them into the bedroom, you didn’t release their hands until they were sitting down onto the bed—Red on your right, white on your left.

Their stares are expectant, already clouded with horny, lustful need when you let go of their hands. Before they could ask what was next, you leaned in, opposite hands pressing to each of their crotches, and they both groaned lightly in their chest. You palmed them through their clothes, your cunt throbbing with the fact that you enjoyed watching their hooded, lusting expressions bore into your figure. Biting down onto your lower lip, you stopped a tethering moan from escaping when both their hands grabbed onto your ass.

They fondled the flesh as you continued to palm them, the cock buried within their clothes growing harder and larger with every quick movement of your hand. They both were so hot and dangerously heavy hidden away in the confines of the pants, and you wanted nothing more than to be choking and stuffed full of them both.

But you don’t get your way just yet.

“On the bed,” Red suddenly commands, and you stop a squeak from embarrassingly ripping from your throat. You stumble on the large bed, and both Red and White shift so that there’s enough room for you to be perched between them. Ass on Whites side, face on Red’s, and you feel your body freeze when everything picks up speed.

White’s lips are on the back of your thigh, kissing and nibbling on the sensitive skin while his fingers take up rubbing your cunt again. Your body trembles under his ministrations, hips shifting, and bucking against him as he once again buries his fingers into your blistering core.

But with the moans singing from your lips, you felt transcended. The way that your eyes rolled to the back of your head with each shift of White’s fingers proving that point, you focused in on Red, who had shoved your breasts over the hem of your shirt. You whimpered loudly when his fingers pinched at both nipples, tugging at the pebbled flesh. 

“Such pretty noises,” Red whispered, his nose brushing against yours, and you throbbed with the need to be kissed. “Are you enjoying this?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “Please give me more, more, please.”

Red inhaled sharply, his eyes blazing like blue fire before finally, he crashed his lips against yours, unable to hold back anymore, and you cried in glorious acceptance. You kissed Red back with everything you had. Your lips slick with your joining, mixing saliva while he continued to press bruising, heated kisses to your mouth. Your hands at one point had attached themselves onto his biceps, and you found your fingernails to be digging through his skin, but Red didn’t care.

He continued to play with your hanging, sore tits, his tongue entering the barricade of your mouth as he kissed you again, and again, and again.

His name spilling from your mouth until you froze, your back tightening the second something more was happening behind you.

White’s finger, covered in the slick of your essence, was probing through your ass all while he continued to finger fuck your cunt.

“Aw, you do like it when my finger goes into your ass!” White chirped, his finger pressing further past your tight rim, sending your mind into a flurry of thoughts and feelings at the sensation of being stretched out, while you collapsed onto the mattress. Red abandoned you. “Your ass always looks so fucking hot when it takes in my finger. It’s like it's sucking me back in whenever I try to pull out. So. Fucking. Hot.”

You could do nothing but choke out White’s name the second the finger curled in your ass and the fingers buried in your cunt came together to press between the thin wall separating the two cavities, and you keened at the feeling.

“White!” you yelled, your eyebrows furrowed in your pleasure, your hips bucking back against his hands. “More! I need more!”

It was at that moment his fingers abandoned your holes, but before you could cry at the loss, Red was back in front of you, naked as the day he was born. But his cock was hard, pressed against his stomach, standing tall and erect for you to suck.

“Come on, angel,” Red spoke, tilting your chin up so that he may press another sizzling kiss to your mouth. “Play with my cock.”

Still, on your knees, your back arched, mouth entirely occupied with Red’s mouth, your hand blindly grabbed his cock and began to jerk him off. You kissed him harshly, thoroughly, not wanting to let him go without exploring and feeling every little thing you could offer while you run your hand up and down his length.

You fully moaned into his mouth when his fingers lightly brushed against your neck, showing how sensitive you are. He runs his hand all the way down to your hips and latches onto your ass cheek. You mewl against him, wondering just why he was doing that when something hot and wet pressed against your cunt.

Breaking off the kiss immediately, you turned around to see White’s face buried into your ass, but his tongue was meeting your cunt with every languid lick.

“Shit!” you curse, your hips bucking and moving to better find White’s tongue against your core. But before you could find your spot, his tongue abandons your cunt and presses back against your tight, tight rim.

Trembling, your eyes roll to the back of your head, all while Red reclaims your lips.

Your hand encompassing his cock began to pick up in speed as White seemed to interchange between tongue fucking your ass and cunt. Whimpering needs only resonated from your mouth into Red’s as you jacked him off sloppily, messily at heightened speeds while you begged for more.

It didn’t take long before they both pulled away from you, and you in your heat daze, teared up as you watched both Red and White step onto the floor, their twin, identical cocks out, leaking with precum that called your name. You didn't need to be told what to do at this point as you stumbled out of bed, falling to your knees right between them.

With Red’s cock in your left hand, you pulled him into your mouth, your right hand expertly, yet blindly jerking White off. You pushed your head as far down as it could go along Red’s cock, your eyes trying to keep on his the entire time. 

Relishing in the fact that his cock went unchanged, your tongue swirled around Red’s cock, your head bobbing along his length, and Red smirked down at you, pressing the tears in your eyes away. Pulling away with a string of saliva connecting his head to your lip, you alternated onto White’s cock, your left hand continuing to jerk off Red.

White groaned at the sudden heat, immersing against his length, his hips snapping into your mouth as you took him all the way in. You had been dating Shouto for a few years now. You were definitely capable of taking him in your mouth in one go without trouble. But it just felt so different with one of your hands stroking off Red, and White’s hands grabbing your head while he thrust into you.

Before you could settle on White’s cock, you switched back to Red, who decided to command your every little instruction.

It quickly became a game between Red and White on who could make you choke and moan the loudest as they fucked your mouth and throat mercilessly. You, thankfully, were entirely enjoying it, your soaked pussy rubbing against your tight panties, and you rutted against the fabric trying to relive the building, fast pressure in your core. 

“Fuck,” White snarled when Red had you completely choked against his cock. His cock was shoved as far down your throat as it could manage, and he kept you there. Painful tears falling from your eyes while your throat struggled to remain relaxed despite the burning lack of oxygen. “Keep her there, Red. Don’t let her move.”

Red, who was only entranced by you for quite some time, looked up with amusement at his other half.

“What, you like this?” Red asked a taunt hidden in his voice but was buried under so much more throbbing lust. “You like seeing y/n choking against a cock?”

You whimpered against Red, your throat muscles fluttering and flaring along his length-- what was he planning?

“Who wouldn’t want to see y/n like this,” White breathed, and you shook at the nonverbal agreement that passed between the two of them.

You whined at the unknown, finally being released from Red’s cock, and you spluttered and coughed, drool and saliva drenching your chin while you turned towards White, ready to do the same. But you shrieked, the wind knocking out of you when they both picked you up from the floor and tossing you onto the mattress. You bounced when you landed. 

Both Red and White quickly moved to remove your clothes until you were naked as well, their eyes glimmering with their treaty, a million ideas undoubtedly pouring through their mind. 

White is on you first. He joins you onto the mattress, his lips pressing and languidly moving against yours, and you moan against him.

“We’re going to start fucking you now, baby,” White whispers against your mouth, his thumb running up against your still spit slicked chin. With just his finger alone, he moves you so that you’re on your hands and knees before him, waiting like an obedient pet. Your eyes flutter open, just barely opened so that you could meet his stormy grey eyes while his thumb slips over your bottom lip and into your mouth. “I hope you’re ready to be fucked… Red?” he called, his thumb pressing down on your tongue, instinctively flaring your gag reflex.

“Hm?” Red answered back, and you stilled when something hot and heavy smacked against your ass. 

Once, twice.

“Fuck her right.”

Silence.

You whimpered against White’s thumb, your eyes watering while you studied his determined, playful face. There's a chuckle from behind you, and you shiver at the fact that you could practically smell the knowing smirk on his face.

“Obviously.”

And then it happens.

Red slams his cock into your awaiting, wet pussy with a pleased groan while you lurched forward onto White at the mighty snap of Red’s hips. Naturally so, you screamed Red's name, your pussy singing in absolute love over the fact that he’s buried entirely within you, undoubtedly claiming you once again.

Before you could sing your praises for Red, White’s shut you up by replacing his thumb with his cock, and you’re forced silent.

When they worked against each other, they were annoying, irritating, and often horrifying, but together? Well, as Red’s cock shoved more profound and deeper into your womb, and White’s cock conquested your throat, you hummed with the pleasure they brought. Together they were powerful, commanding, and unbreakable, and if the sounds of your wet pussy and choking mouth were to prove it, it was more than just a fact. 

You struggled to keep up with Red’s slamming hips, the girth of his cock stretching you out in an all too familiar way, and White driving cock that choked you out every time you moved. You felt dizzy with the thumping, tingling pleasure, your hand that held onto White’s hips clutching his skin, while your other one manipulated and circled your clit.

You wanted to cum. You wanted to so badly.

“You sound so hot choking on his cock,” Red laughed, his hand coming down to spank your jiggling ass with a single, powerful thwack. You bristled at the sensation. “Do more, sweetheart, I know you can do more; we’ve experienced you doing more.”

You garbled as White smirked down at you, your eyes just barely open enough to see the knowing look in his eyes.

“Use that little slut mouth of yours better, baby,” White taunted, his hand coming to pat your hollowed cheeks roughly, quickly, in a few stinging slaps. 

This is what you liked, you realized as you pulled away from his length, mouth swallowing his balls with heightened eagerness, your hand rubbing his length as you did so. White moaned your name, his head dropping in his pleasure as you did so. 

It must have done something for Red, too, because his fingers dug into the skin on your waist, his powerful thrusts becoming quicker, shorter thrusts that moved you against his cock with rattling power and craving lust. You whimpered against White’s balls and cried out in pleasure-filled pain the moment Red spanked you again, and again, and again.

Your cunt was fluttering, squeezing, and beating in time to your heartbeat. The pleasure within you grew from a light warmth to a blazing heat. You cried for more, your knees and thighs shaking for more.

More friction, more fucking, more of Shouto.

“Turn around, you little cockslut,” White grinned, removing you from his balls. “It’s my turn to fuck your pretty little cunt.”

Whining, you did as you were told, your limbs feeling like lead as Red smoothed back the hair falling on to your face.

Before you were ready, not that you minded, their cocks reclaimed your holes.

It was different this time.

They fucked you differently, you realized when White enjoyed pulling nearly all the way out before thrusting back into you. His strokes and powerful thrusts send the coil in your stomach to grow tighter and tighter. But Red, fuck, Red had his fingers in your mouth, choking you with them as he slapped your cheek with his cock, his precum mixed with your slick smearing all over your cheek as he did so. 

“I want to make sure that you realize that me putting my cock in your mouth is a blessing,” Red coldly smirked, his eyes blazing with a whole other story. But despite it all, you nodded your head quickly. Altogether agreeing with the claim that you needed to earn his cock in your mouth again. 

“I kno thath,” you whine against his fingers, saliva shamelessly dribbling past your lips, your mouth closing to suck on his fingers. “I promith I’ll apprethciate your giff.”

He could try all he wanted, but Red was whipped for you too.

His cock immediately replaced his fingers, slamming to the depths of your throat, all while the wet noises of your throat and choking voices joined the squelching of your cunt. Your eyes rolled in your pleasure, your cunt thrumming with energy as Red’s hands encircled your throat, choking you while he fucked straight down your throat.

“You looked so pretty earlier when you couldn’t breathe,” Red snarled, his cock twitching in your throat the same time White’s cock twitched in your cunt. “I’m just -- fuck do that again -- trying to get you there… faster… Your throat really feels like your fucking pussy at times, shit.”

You whimper at that comparison as you forcefully clench your throat and cunt around both of your boyfriend's cock. 

But you vibrate when White’s finger traces your rim, his finger not disappearing into your wrinkled muscle, but stimulating it well past teasing. You pull off Red’s cock with a spluttering cough, your eyes burning, but you find White’s gaze immediately. 

“What’s going on, sweetness?” White asked, his eyes glimmering with knowledge of what you want already, but the slick fucker just had to ask.

Too bad you weren’t ashamed of shit around him.

“I want you to fuck my ass,” you moan, your hips slamming back against White’s still shifting cock, your hand clenching one of your asscheeks as you split yourself open for White. “Please fuck my ass.”

“Fuck!” they both seemed to growl, and without so much as a break, White switches from your ass and buries his length slowly into your needy, tight ass.

The pitchy, unstoppable moan from your mouth sends both Red and White into whimpering messes as you collapse onto the mattress, your chest heaving with your heightened stimulus. It was starting to hurt, your lack of orgasm, you just needed a bit more done to cum, and you wanted to.

“Where’s my dick?” White finally growls at you as he bottoms out entirely within you. You tremble at the question, body shaking with every stroke of his cock he makes afterward. “Where is it?”

“I-In my ass!” you wail, your ass clenching around him, trying to make him feel this heated pleasure as strongly as you were. “It’s in m-my ass!”

“Do you love my cock in your ass?” White snarls, his hands gripping your waist and slamming you back onto him, your ass squeezing with the sensation. You can’t speak; your mind is overloaded with feeling and emotion. “Why do I even bother? I know you love my cock in your ass.”

Red comes back into the equation, his hands grabbing your jaw and pressing your mouth against his into a searing kiss. You can hardly kiss him back, your mouth pathetically hanging open as he kisses your teeth, mouth, tongue. So, it shouldn’t shock you that in your near blissful blackout, Red hands your limp arms to White, who holds onto them.

His grasp and hold on your arms elevates you slightly off the bed, your back arched, and breasts exposed as he begins to jackhammer into your ass. You want to scream, you want to shudder and cry your sensations to the world, but Red interrupts once more by pressing his swollen, purpling head into your mouth, silencing you with gags and chokes while they both use you.

They both drive into you with ferocity and power, your body nearly limp and twitching with your ever still denied orgasm that refuses to back down, and the way the lack of oxygen makes you spin as Red’s balls clash against your throat in quick, succinct, patterns.

“Sit down, White,” Red snaps at White, and White, who was ever so entranced at how your ass was swallowing his cock, dumbly nods. “Y/n is about to cum, we need to make sure she cums correctly.”

You whine against Red’s cock, unsure if you heard him correctly when White drops your arms. But instead of falling forward as you thought you would, his relaxed arms wrapped around your waist tightly, bringing you down with him.

Your back was pressed against his chiseled chest. And you moaned at the sensation this angle brought in terms of depth and stretch. Your mouth, freed from Red’s cock, opened in a loud, scratchy moan, undoubtedly raspy from the abuse it went through from the vigorous face fucking.

“R-Red!” you cried, your legs shaking when White hooked his arms under your knees and spreading them out, exposing your wet, slick core to Red, who was merely watching. You shifted pathetically, wanting to have both of them on you, not just one. “Red, please!”

But, White’s hips began to thrust upward, resuming his fucking of your asshole, and you howled in pleasure as he breathed heavily, gasping in your right ear. But as your legs trembled, unsure if White would be able to keep your legs in such position, Red pressed on top of you, his weight keeping your legs spread, and his cock quickly slamming within your cunt.

You had one hand buried in White’s hair, the other slipping behind Red’s back when he pressed onto you. The second their cocks rubbed against each other through the oh so thin wall between your ass and your cunt, you screeched. The hand in White’s hair tugging at his roots harshly, and the hand on Red’s back drawing bloody mountains on his skin.

But this didn’t stop them, the slight pain you gave them doing nothing but making them growl in your ear, making your eyes cross in your oblivion while they continued to fuck you.

Sandwiched between them, your breasts crushed by Red’s chest, and your back buried into White’s chest, White let go of one of your legs that immediately latched around Red’s waist. Your eyes crossed, rolling to the back of your head, your mouth agape, but no noise coming out as every massive, hard thrust sent your soul into a new dimension. White’s hand sneaking between Red’s drilling hips and your cunt to pinch and pull at your clit as you shook like a leaf in a windstorm. You came without realizing it, your walls clenching like a vice against Red’s cock, and your ass clenching around White’s in tandem to your orgasm. Both of them moaning against your salty sweat skin, but neither one of them stopped.

Faster and faster, they thrust into you, gaining such speed and power that you felt akin to a ragdoll as they fucked you. They praised you for taking them both at the same time, senseless names, and wordless praise as you took them without a single wince of pain. You were theirs, they claimed, and they were yours. 

The sounds of their cock drilling into the wet caverns of your cunt and ass, the sticking shivering sound of their balls smacking your ass and cunt.

It was so much, growing to be more and more, until your orgasm was once again growing as you attempted to shift your weak, still trembling hips up and down their length, wanton gasps shrill on your tongue. Your body begging for more.

“Gonna cum,” they whispered together, his deep, raspy voice filling both of your ears, and you wailed as your own orgasm tipped once again.

“Cum in me, please cum in me!” you begged with everything you had.

And with your pleading heavy in the air, they came with you. You moaned at the feeling of the hot, sticky thick ropes of cum filling up both your holes, the cocks spasming uncontrollably within you as their hips continued to ride out their orgasms. Your chest heaves as their snapping hips become rolling thrusts until finally, they stop.

All three of you still joined, all three of you sweaty and tired.

When you pass out, you can barely hear them saying goodbye.

…

…

You wake up, your body sore and bruised around midnight.

You groan, stretching out your neck as you realize that there is no body on top of you or beneath you as that was definitely how you all had fallen asleep a few hours ago. Panic filled you when the bed was empty, and you rushed to your feet, cursing when your knees buckled out from under your weight.

Crashing to the floor, you groaned as you lay there.

“What are you doing on the floor?” an all too familiar voice asked you, and you looked up to see if it was Red or White.

You blinked when instead the once two distinctive heads blurred into one, and you stared at your finally normal boyfriend.

“S-Shouto!” you cried, your body weakly pressing off the floor, your arms stretching to you.

Shouto smiled warmly, softly, the perfect in-between of the facial expressions Red and White would give you.

“I’m back, sorry for scaring you like that,” he whispered as he joined you on the floor, letting your arms wrap him into a firm hug, not wanting to let go as you pathetically began to cry.

The two of you lay naked together on the floor, his soft apologies gathering in your ear as you held him tightly, having missed him entirely.

“Do you remember?” you eventually asked long after Shouto managed to bring you back into the bed. You lay curled into his side, your fingers tracing the marks on his body that you had left on both Red and White. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes… and I remember how it all felt too.”

“Ew… perv…”

“Try that again? Ms. ‘I-want-your-cock-in-my-ass’.”

“SHOUTO!”

[ptergwen]

smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

-

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it. 

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison’s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions. 

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

[witch-hazels-musings]

LESBIAN ASS COMING IN ok maybe all the girls because last i checked there were only three and thats your max SO them with a super affectionate s/o?? like they are constantly holding their hand or leaning against them?? or maybe even koala hugging them with the tall ladies 🍓

Affections TM

( I hope this display of incredibly soft, hard working woman getting some affection warms your heart!! <3 ) 

Warning -> Fluff / SFW

Character X FM Reader | Anthology 

Includes: Beidou, Jean, Ningguang

Beidou

It doesn’t matter how close or far apart you are from her, she will still find herself drawn to you -- luckily she never has to look very hard because most of the time you are right by her side 

She might turn to see you gazing at her, the smile on your face so telling of the affections in your heart -- she’ll be standing at the side of her massive ship and feel the sweet embrace of your arms around her, the comfort of your chest against her back and no matter how chilly the water seems, you’ll always make her warm

She doesn’t mind the close contact, oftentimes she welcomes it, the only thing she worries about is your safety when things start to get unsteady on the choppy seas - but you’ve proven to her how capable you can be in all your skills 

The sea was calm, the steady dip and sway of the Crux a constant reminder of the mysteries below. How deep did the water go - what lay just out of her sight and would she ever see the secrets of the depths. Her hands pressed against the deck railing, shoulders locking into place as she leaned against the boat. It was a test to see if your legs could handle the bobbing of the unsteady and, at times, unpredictable ocean temperament but after years of journeying these vast waters, she had no issues. 

She closed her eyes and took in the smell of salt mixed with pitch and tar. She’d grown accustomed to the combination but recalled the days where the scent made her retch. Breathing in again, she took in a new scent. Roses and lavender, with a hint of mischief. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Beidou asked, her eyes opening to see you standing in between her arms. 

“I couldn’t -- I missed you.” Your smile was as bright as the moon, your fingers as soft as flower petals, voice as delicious as a good bottle of wine. As your fingers ran over her lips she allowed herself to divulge into the taste. “Shouldn’t you also be asleep, captain?” Your tone was playful, experiencing the residual effects of the giggle she coaxed out of your moments before. 

“I wanted to check on things, my duties never rest even if I must.” Beidou stepped forward, her hands remaining on the railing even though her body drifted closer to you. The distance didn’t seem to bother you as your arms quickly wrapped around her waist to hold her even closer. 

“Then I will check on things with you.” 

“Will you now?” She asked, laughing. 

“Mhm, you can count on me.” 

She adored you and it was easy to see that you returned her feelings -- you always found ways to shower her in your attention, in your affection, and she found herself expecting great things every day 

Tonight though, under the light of the moon she took you in her arms and swayed with the help of the ship and the constant, drifting waves 

Jean

There are times when she wishes that she can be more available to you, but with all the duties on her plate, she finds it hard to spend more than a few moments here and there. She hopes you understand that her distance isn’t directed at you -- she promises to take every moment that she can to spend it with you 

It’s the quick embraces in her office that fill her battery, it’s the soft touches and reassuring gestures that remind her you are happy being with someone so busy, it’s the tender kisses on the cheek when no other eyes can see where she finds herself the most thankful

She never imagined that she’d have someone so incredible as you in her life -- sometimes she wonders if divulging in your generosity, your kindness, your love isn’t selfish … but how could she let anyone else see what you give her every day 

Pacing her office was a habit of hers. It helped keep the blood in her legs flowing as she worked longer hours than those around her would like. It wasn’t often that she was able to leave, who knows what might happen if she did. Who might need her advice, support, or solution, so this was the best thing she could get to be physical at times. 

Every once in a while she had conversations with Lisa, maybe even finding the chance to stalk Kaeya if only to collect the work he was supposed to return -- though he frequently evaded her. More often than not, she dealt with Klee and her own restless habit. At least Jean’s pacing wouldn’t blow a hole in one of the walls of Mondstadt. 

Her mind drifted, her finger pressing against her lips as she worked through the problems outlined in front of her. It was up to her to figure them all out, how exhausting. Jean jumped when she felt something slide around her stomach, her head twisting to see who was entering her space but, when she saw you, her demeanor relaxed substantially. 

“You looked stressed.” Your head rested against her, chin finding ground against her shoulder as you looked at her with a tender expression. 

“There is a lot to do, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” She placed her hands onto yours, her thumbs rubbing over your skin. 

“Maybe you don’t need to handle them at all?” Jean’s brows furrowed, her eyes shifting as she tried to understand your comment. “I mean, you could give them to someone else you know, delegate.” 

“A-ah … then that would just pass the workload onto another, I couldn’t do that.” 

“You are quite an impressive woman, Jean, but you can’t do it all alone.” 

“It’s my duty …” 

“I know, I know.” You pressed a kiss to her neck, the tightness of your embrace increasing as you showed her you understood her position. “How about taking a break then? You need to rest.” You didn’t wait for her to argue. Slowly you brought her to the couch in the corner of her office, making sure she settled into the seat next to you. 

“You can keep working if you want, but I’m not letting you get up from here, not for a while anyway.” Jean sighed and resigned herself to your win. 

It was easier to give in than try and fight against you anyway, this is why you always won. She had a soft spot for you -- your consideration of her, your patience, your strong will to get her to take some time. You helped her more than she could ever say, and far more than she could ever repay 

There was a stir, a shift that pulled Jean from her sleep and when she analyzed her surroundings, she found you resting peacefully on her shoulder. Your hand wrapped around her arm, a blanket draped over the both of you. You looked so peaceful, content -- she smiled and couldn’t deny this was the first time in weeks she felt fully rested 

Ningguang

She’s a woman who knows what she wants - the determination, strictness, focus that she has for everything that she does is so incredible there are few that think she must be more than human 

Reservation, Composure, Proper - all of these describe how she interacts with others, and when it comes to you she is no different 

In the light of the public eye, she treats you with respect -- behind closed doors, she behaves much more attached for she prefers to have you by her side if at all possible - to bathe in your company is like basking in the gaze of Morax himself 

Ningguang surrounded herself with documents. Her desk was nearly littered with them, leaving only enough room for a few spare items here and there. It seemed that there was more work to be done after the fall of the Jade Palace and, while she wished to start working on plans for the future, it seemed all her attention was shackled to the present. 

Knocking out her pipe into the ashtray, she let it rest so she could stand and organize the current state of work orders piling up behind her. Attendants came and went, their proper work ethic motivating her to continue - how could she expect those around her to keep working hard if she let herself slack. There would be plenty of time to rest once these were through … when that would be though was a question she didn’t have the answers to. 

There was a knock at the door, her attention drawn to the soft rapping of knuckles on the rich wooden frame and, when she saw you standing there patiently, she grew more at ease. 

“Come in.” She beckons, resting the documents on the table before making her way toward you. 

“Are you busy?” You asked, looking over her shoulder at the pile of documents on her desk. While it may appear to others that her duties were smothering, it was common practice for Ningguang to keep records of nearly anything she did. 

“There are still many tasks ahead, which we will get to when the time comes. To what do I owe the pleasure?” She felt your fingers wrap around hers and with a soft smile, she let you take them. 

“Would you object to me just … hang around for a while?” Your expression was nervous, it was as if you were never fully confident in your standing with her. 

“I wouldn’t object, besides, having something nice to look at while one works is good for the heart.” She pushed your chin up as if to remind you to always be yourself around her and when your lips stretched into a smile she knew, once again, that she was right in choosing you. 

How could another be allowed to look at your face? How could she handle the thought of you being taken by another -- she often looked at you with eyes you’d swore knew all the answers but love often makes one unsure -- and she was still surprised that you choose a woman like her 

A woman who came from nothing, who fought and crawled her way to the place she was today - yet, she couldn’t help but feel that when you looked at her, when your hand rested in hers, when your fingers ran across her skin, that you saw her for the woman she was - nothing more, nothing less - she could be completely herself in your presence 

As she continued to work and you offered your input where you could, the two of you never let go of the other hand 

--

tag list: 

@clemmywrites @sufzku @plenilunegazes @lucacandy @marianadibenea @nonniechan @jaemjenjam @softlybeloved @excitedlysuffering

[blackinn-n]

Blackinnon headcanons (because @marlymckitten’s lovely ones got me to write a bit again <3 go check on hers!!!!)

Yes. It’s sappy. But I love sappy Blackinnon. I can’t bear angst any longer so enjoy!

Sirius fell in love with her before she fell in love with him. Actually, he fell in love with Marlene before James fell in love with Lily, even if he took longer to realize it. He unconsciously developed a crush on her during their first year and recognize his messy feelings as love when he was a bit older. Anyway, he liked to say to her that he had loved her since he was a kid and Marlene used to roll her eyes and call him a sappy liar — but Sirius was not lying. Not even a bit.

I personally hc that they didn’t start dating at Hogwarts. Sirius was, emotionally, too much of a mess to actually sort out what he felt. It was not that he wasn’t sure of her — he knew he loved Marlene. He was certain of that. He was just scared to hurt her in any way possible, and though less of himself — he though he wasn’t able to make her happy, and he could not bear it.

It was Marlene who made the first move. One night, she just kissed him. They were alone in London, laughing, smoking and chatting at 1 AM while the rest of the gang had already went home. She just did it. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. Hard, passionately. It took him out of breath.

As their relationship became solid, it was clear to both of them that what was happening was that.. they were settling. To Sirius, the word has seem horrendous till she had told him what she felt for him. But he was happier that he had ever been with her and was actually pretty content with the perspective of being hers for the rest of his life.

They weren’t too much into PDA. Sirius resting a hand on her tights, or holding hands was ok — but they couldn’t stand couples who made out constantly while they were out with friends. It was totally different when they were drunk: in that occasions they could not take their hands off each other and used to disappear so as to shag in some bathroom or to go home (to shag. Yes, they did it nonstop)

They had a matching tattoo. They had gone out one evening in March, just the two of them. It was supposed to be a romantic dinner but it had naturally lead to a drunk night in some club in London. After that, they had found some weird (and probably too dirty to be trusted) tattoo shop which was still opened at night and decided to go for it. They were too tipsy to be taken seriously, but managed to explain to the tattooer what they wanted. At the end, Sirius got the written “star of the sky” in Marlene’s handwriting, and she had “star of the sea” in his, on their pelvis. It was sappy, they knew it, but it was them.

Marlene absolutely adored Sirius. She thought he was breathtaking. That’s true, a lot of people thought that — Sirius was indeed a very handsome man, but to Marlene, Sirius was much more than that. Marlene loved everything about him. She loved stroking his hair and caressing the side of his face. She loved when he took her hands into his. She loved kissing his full lips and holding his gaze, despite it made her blush most of the time. She loved feeling his weight on her when he fell asleep while cuddling. She loved feeling him inside of her, it made her feel a sense of fullness and connection she had never felt with someone before.

James was so happy when they got together. He wasn’t even the slightest angry or upset at them, though they knew he would have killed them both if they hurt each other.

Lily was ecstatic when they started dating, too. Perhaps even more than her husband, considering she was the first person Sirius admitted he was in love with Marlene to. It happened during their seventh year at Hogwarts. Lily was looking for Marls — she knew the Astronomy Tower was her and Sirius’ spot and expected to find her there, but only him was present that evening. They talked quite a lot and at one point he just slipped it out. It felt so scaring, but so, so good. Lily promised not to tell a soul, not even to James and Sirius trusted her. She also advised him to tell her, but he knew he needed more time.

He desired a family with her but was scared to bring the topic up — he didn’t really think he would have really been much of a father material with the upbringing he had. His worse nightmare was perhaps inflicting on his children the same pain he had had to endure during his childhood — the idea scared him shitless. But one day, they talked about it. They approached the subject shyly, as if having different perspectives would have risked to break what they had. When Sirius told her it would have be nice, to have kids one day, Marlene could not suppress the wide, genuine smile that appeared on her face. “You’d really want them?” “Yes. With you, I would want them. I think I would be a shit father, but with you to balance I think they’d turn up nice” “That’s bullshit. You will be a wonderful dad.” “I will be? Not “would”?” “Yep. You will. I think we should talk about it… having kids, one day.” Sirius had never been happier.

Marlene’s family was fond of Sirius. Her parents and brother especially. And of course Euphemia and Fleamont loved Marlene — she was James’ first friend ever. Euphemia confessed them once that she had been planning their wedding since fifth year (James laughed a bit to much for Marlene’s liking after hearing that).

Marlene once had called Walburga Black a “fucking cow”. She hadn’t just called her that, she had YELLED it on the platform before taking Sirius hand and making him follow her on the train. She had heard a sneaky comment from her: it was the usual babbling about Sirius being a shame, a failure for being how he was, for hanging out with dirty mudbloods and staying at the Potters. She could not take it. Although her mother (who had intercepted her daughter’s furious expression) had tried to stop her, she had just walked over and yelled at Walburga Black, a witch from a noble and ancient family in the Magical Community, that she was a fucking cow. Around lots, lots of people. Sirius thought he had never loved her more.

Once Sirius told her he wanted to shave his beard, and she screamed, horrified and threatened not to have sex with him for a month if he really did it.

For his 23rd birthday, Marlene gifted him a handful of Polaroids of her nudes, along with his real present. Sirius remained in total awe for a few seconds and then looked at her like a puppy who has received the best toy ever. He really was a simple man, not needing much to be happy.

Sirius couldn’t cook for shit. He could barely prepare a toast without burning something. And most of the time, when he was hungry, he forgot he could use magic. That meant he was not able to surprise her with breakfast in bed or some thing like that — okay, he knew how to make coffee or how to spread jam on bread, he was not that dumb. Anyway, Marlene used to tease him by saying he would starve if she refused to cook for the rest of his days. “I can always eat you, you know” “You are incredible, Black”

7th year’s St Valentine’s Day was perhaps the worst one Marlene had spent in her seventeen years on the Earth. Not that she had ever celebrated it (she hated St Valentine’s Day, the sappy promises, the fake couples who put on a good face during the trip to Hogsmeade so as to show off even if half school knew one of them was shagging someone else. She just couldn’t bear it), but that year every. single. one of her friends had a date. Lily went with James, Remus had gone to Hogsmeade with a bloke he had met in the summer, Alice went with Frank, Mary had been asked by a quite good looking boy who was part of the same club as hers, Emmeline and Dorcas went together (their first public trip after their coming out) and even Peter had managed to set up a date with a really nice girl he had had a crush on since fifth year. And Sirius… well, she supposed he was shagging three or four girls at the same time. Marlene spent most of her time in the library, catching up with her homework, and after a rather depressing lunch alone she hid herself in the Common Room who was occupied only by first and second years who could not go to the village yet. She read a book until she heard someone calling her name. She didn’t even had to turn around to know who it was. Nobody called her Lene. They walked through the empty corridors and corners of the school, perfectly comfortable with one another. He asked her what she had done that day, but she didn’t ask him back. She didn’t want to know if he had gone to Hogsmeade with someone. What she didn’t know was that, yes, he had gone to the village… to buy her flowers. They following morning, when she woke up, she found a beautiful bouquet of tulips — her favorites — of all colors. The was no card attached and it took Lily twenty minutes to convince Marlene that they really were for her.

Marlene’s dream had always been to visit Paris. When she was ten, she promised herself that she would only have gone with the love of her life — Marlene pretended to be nauseated by romance, but the truth was that she was a hopeless romantic herself. She kept the promise. One year or so into their relationship, Sirius and Marlene stayed in Paris for a week. One night they went to a bar and returned to the apartment quite intoxicated and extremely horny, so the usual. They shagged everywhere, on the couch, on the bed, on the floor, by the fucking window, not caring who could see them. Once they were finished, they were laying on the couch, naked, only covered by a thin blanket to protect them from the chilly air, their bodies entangled. She told him about her promise. He just looked at her, his eyes full of pure love. And he told her. And it was not scary, quite the contrary, actually. “I love you” he simply said. “I love you so much, Marls” She tried to reply, but her voice was thick with emotion. He understood anyway and gently kissed her, thinking he had finally found something worth living for. And it was love, it had always been love.

[oh-for-fic-sake]

Do yiu want to maybe write a lil smth about big dick daddy and his strength.... pleasd and thank u ❤️🥵

Okay hun just a quick headcannon might not be exactly what you were after but porn is ponr 🤷‍♀️ 😘😘

Warnings: smut, nsfw, size difference, toys, car sex, exhibitionism, daddy kink, filth

You bent forward with the slightest of winces, this probably wasnt the best idea to use this particular toy when you had yoga class.

Today was henry's birthday, you were going to skip class but sadly he had a meeting this morning and had insisted on you coming to class.

You really should of stuck to your guns and stayed home

But it was to late now, you were here in the middle of class, this time at the back becuase you were nervous about anyone seeing it through your leggings.

You had a surprise for your sweet boyfriend, it had taken a few days of prep work but you were on the final stage

You see there was an issue in the bedroom. He was ridiculously endowed... like seriously before meeting him you rolled your eyes at that whole 'i can see it in her guts' porn cliche that men tried to boast about.

Not anymore. Nope, it was definitely a thing.

You were thankfull he was strong enough and could lift you with his arms and make you 'hover' as he drilled you mindful of just how much he fed your needy but small pussy.

You could never take him fully and although he never minded it got to you. You wanted to be good for him, to give him everything. And take everythig!

So you decided to get a set of plugs to help... loosen you a tad, it was more a length issue then a... girth?

You were on your second day of your biggest toy and it was strange streaching and doing yoga with the toy rubbing your tender walls.

It was down right torturous!

You heaved in relief as the teacher wrapped up the class and bolted outside needing to get home and cool off

The beep of a horn called you across the road to where henry was waiting in the car.

You crossed the road quickly opening the door throwing your bag behind the passenger seat and climbed in "Ah~fucking fuck!"

Henry froze and cast you a strange look as you bit your lip and shuddered as your ass met the seat...

That didnt make sense? You hadnt been spanked for a few days

"Babe? You okay? Did you pull something?" He asked slowly concern creasing his brow

"I wish, no no i- lets go, i need to get back and chill... need a fucking shower you cringed, you really did, not just to cool down either.

"Okay if your sure" he said pulling away from the curb.

During the ride home he kept a close eye on you, noting the soft mewls and panting... especially when he let the car over rev a little, trying to help with the battery which had been playing up recently.

"Babe your going red, have some of your drink" henry said half way home nodding to your bag behind the seat.

"Yeah.. okay" you hummed unclipped your seat belt, holding the bottle would give you something to do with your hands, take the temptation of slipping you fingers to your crotch as the car vibrated the plug.

You moved leaning over the center console and cralwed back bending over reaching your bag. Unknowingly presenting the little bulging base of the plug in your pussy

"No fucking way!?" Henry growled doing a double take as he saw the little tell tale bump

Before you could ask what he meant a hugge hand came up landing over your slit in a light spank making you moan

"Oh god~ hen!?" You moaned and tried to reverse back into you sea but henrys hand remained on the end of the plug and wriggled it side to side sending you into a chorus of wanton moans

"Baby girl? You wore a plug to yoga?" He laughed enjpying the way you collapsed over the centre console

He moved repositioning his arm to rest his elbow and fore arm on your back fingers slipping under the leggings and following the creas of your ass to the wet pussing lips wrapped around the plug.

"Hen- daddy! Noo let me up!" Ou protested not likejng being bent over in the car for the world to see it they wished!

"Oh hush, we're almost home! Its nothing you dont deserve your naughty girl!" He teased clasping the plug and slowly began thrusting the toy in and out

"Oh gos! Listen to that~ such a messy girl? All drenched and slippy~" you mewled and began panting unable to stop rocking back.

"D-daddy please! Not in the car!"

"So yours embarrassed being caught with your toy in the car, but not your yoga class?-pfft yoga all those streches must have been fun baby girl~ tell me what was your favourite? Is this a naughty little secret?" He spoke cheerfully amused by the predicament youd got yourself in

"No-no i didnt mean it! Daddy its not like that!"

"No? Then why do you have this in your little pussy babygirl?" He asked genuinely curious

"Its for you daddy! For your birthday! I made'em bigger so you can... all in..." you stuttered as he began fuckingnyou faster. But he stopped at your comment

"You've been getting yourself ready so daddy can fuck you deeper?" He said out loud as he managed to pull the car into the drive thanking god this was an automatic.

Cy-yeah! Please-Ugh daddy!?" You cried as with a quick flick of his hands your leggings were at your knees and the plig was pulled free.

He whistled low when he saw just what your stuffed yourself with... definitely longer then anything else he'd seen you use before.

You moaned as he left you needy on the edge.

He didnt waist time just feeling hos wet and horny you were had him fully erect already.

He ditched the plug on the passenger seat paying no mind to your yells of 'is gonna stain!'

Deft fingers latched onto your hips as he pulled himself free.

"God your such a good girl~ so precious" he purred before hoisting you to straddle him and without hesitation impaling you on him fully.

"F-Fuuuck! Daddy it oh god!" You groaned feeling him press you down onto his thighs tightly grinding hissing through his teeth.

"Fuck! Fuck thats-god your so hot! So tight babygirl~" you whined as your leggings at your knees was stretched across his chest pressing your legs high and spread like a resistance band holding you open to him

"Ah daddy ! Please! Fuck please move!" You cried for him to fuck you despite being on top.

He chuckled heeding you and held your waist tightly before lifting your, bobbing you up and down on him.

He grunted straightening his legs into the foot well and moved you faster, just like he would a fleshlight useing your body as his own toy, only this time you were accepting him entirely.

His head rested on the head rest and he moaned louder widening his thighs reveling in the feel of your ass beuching his balls as he drove deeper.

You panted moaning and wriggling squirming in his grasp as he used you properly for the first time.

You fought him as things got too much, but it was no use, he had clamped his hands on you and was too lost to give any wiggle room. You loved it!

Then finally with a huge growl and roar he tugged your hips to his in bruisong thrusts markingnyou with his fingers as he plundered you in the last few thrusts

Bringingnyou high enough you feared oud hit to roof of the car.

Just as quickly as he'd taken you he finished locking you to his lap pressing as far as he could into your body floddjng your jnsides sendingnyou into your own orgasm

You flexed and kicked your entire body trembling and fighting as he held you still feedinnyour cunt as much as he could.

"Fuck! Fuck that- why has it taken this long to try car sex" you panted slowly coming down from your high.

"I dont know, but fuck if that wasnt the best quicky we ever had"

"Beats the public bathroom" you agreed

"Hands down... soo round two?"

"Inside... i can hear kal barking" you uttere flushing tipping your head hearing the bear belting out the song of his people

"Good shout..." henry chuckled

"Henry... happy birthday" you uttered

"Thank you... it's best present ever... how long you been wearing them?"he said nodding to the plug that had left an embarrassing puddle onnthe leather.

"Only a week" you shrugged leaning over grasping the plug.

"Used to it then?" He quipped staringm off in thought

"Yeah pretty much... why?" You answered anxiously

"I expect this as my very own homecoming treat from now on babygirl... do you understand princess?"

"Yes daddy~ comemon lets go inside i want round two!" You giggled nodding to him excitedly. You don't mind the inconvenience of plugs if it gives you mind blowing sex

"I thought this was my present?" He pouted sweetly at how excited you were for his present

"You gonna say no to round two daddy?" You teased prodding his chest the little sweat patch on the grey tshirt making your mouth water, you couldn't help it you were far too gone.

"of course not! Lets get your cuffs out!" He laughed patting you ass prompting you to climb off of him and crawl back to the passenger seat and redress.