#this is the most difficult prompt yet

[valerileygreen]

It's an Arthur x Eames fic, rated M and no particular warnings save what you'd expect from the canon. I really love how it shows the ongoing tension between Arthur and Eames, spanning literal years before finding resolution, and how it uses the theme of totems to delve into Eames' history and heart.

@inception30daychallenge day 6: a fic rec

[sahkuna]

NOT SO INVISIBLE STRING — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: the universe has a funny way of working. gojo always knew he was destined to be with you and so did others. it just took some time for you to figure that out as well.

content warning(s): FLUFF! eventual smut so 18+ mdni, fem! reader, pining gojo (sooo cute), mutual pining, friends to lovers, unproetected sex, gojo calling you baby multiple times while going innn.

word count: 6.8k zoo wee mama... pls read anyway or i'll d—

SPRING 2008

“So, you’re not gonna miss me? Not even a little?” 

An arm was suddenly thrown across your shoulders, leaving you to bear its weight. The press of his uniform stuck to your nape, making his presence all the more difficult to ignore.

Fellow students bustled and sidestepped their way around you two, some even falter in their steps to ogle briefly at the scene unfolding before them.

“Satoru, move!” Shoko— your saviour— jabs Gojo’s side, urging him to budge, but to no avail.

He’s still tethered to your side, twirling around his diploma in his unoccupied hand despite your best efforts to create space between you two. “You’re literally blocking people’s way toward the gates,” she says.

It’s graduation day and the last day of school for the spring semester, bringing the school year to yet another successful end. It also meant that today would be the last time your upperclassmen would walk on school grounds as students.

The sun was beginning to dip behind the many trees surrounding the school, and its marvellous glow cast warm hues of pink and orange that stretched across the sky. Its rays descend onto the school’s campus; setting for a brilliant, comforting atmosphere. 

Answering Gojo’s initial question about whether you’d miss him, you avert eye contact with your persistent senior. “I never said that,” your voice teeters between a grumble and a groan riddled with exasperation. 

Your eyes sweep the courtyard and you spot a few familiar faces in the crowd. Some are gathered along the steps leading up to the school taking photos to commemorate today. Others linger on campus chatting amongst themselves, and some whack each other with their diploma scrolls while others treat theirs delicately.

And not too far off from where Satoru holds you hostage stood a small crowd of his classmates—specifically, his female classmates— waiting for their chance to bid their goodbyes...

Or stumble out an unprepared confession thrown out in the heat of the moment before they may never see Gojo Satoru again.

Who knows. 

All you’re sure of is that they are most definitely throwing you shady death glares from your peripheral.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss you,” Gojo says, his arm still looped around your shoulders. He has half a mind to drag you away from standing right front and centre in the entranceway and shuffles you off to the side. “All the years we’ve spent together—”

“Two years, by force.” 

“— and now we’re being split apart,” he finishes, paying no mind to your sardonic comment. The infliction in his voice prompts you to turn to look at him, only to wind up and see a slight pout tugging at his soft, pink lips. “How ever will we manage?”

You smother down the urge to heave a loud and heavy sigh at the clingy characteristics he’s displaying today and decide to play nice.

Gojo’s always been one to be playful, perhaps even a bit pushy at times but it was all in good nature. However, for some reason, his antics have reached a whole new level today. 

Emotions were running high among staff and students alike. Some are more potent and… persistent than others.

“You’ll be fine,” you assure, patting his arm half-heartedly, “and I will certainly be fine. Everything will be just fine.”

In the middle of your sentence from the corner of your eye, you spot another one of your seniors— Geto Suguru. You watch him step out from a conversation with two classmates of yours (Haibara and Nanami) and is now trekking his way over to where you and Gojo occupy the front steps.

“Geto-senpai!” 

Geto greets you warmly by placing a comforting hand on your head and gives you a reassuring pat once, then twice. The action leaves your hairstyle a little dishevelled, nonetheless, there’s a small smile tugging at your lips.

You’ve only interacted with Geto a sparse number of times outside of class or at the end of the school day. Whenever you both would cross paths you appreciated how he would regard your presence with temperance. It always left you feeling at ease. You’ll miss him. 

You’ll especially miss how he was so quick to offer you and Haibara snacks from the vending machines on campus.

Gojo emits a pathetic squawk at the special name drop.

Pale, white brows are pinched tightly together with faux betrayal. “How come he gets honorifics but I don’t?!” he complains once Geto’s within earshot. 

“I see that Satoru's already started…”

Though Geto was talking to no one in particular, Shoko chips in given that she bore witness to Gojo’s incessant pestering toward you ever since the home bell rang. “You missed the part where he blocked her from getting to the lockers for a good several minutes.” Unzipping her bag, she carelessly shoves her diploma into it. 

“But anyway, I’m gonna head out for a smoke. I’ll catch you guys later.” Before departing, Shoko stretches her hand towards you and gives your arm an affectionate squeeze. “Get home safe, ‘kay? Don’t let these guys keep you out too long.”

Which reminded you…

“Gojo, this has been fun and all…” Being rag-dolled around by your upperclassman across campus has been anything but fun. “But I really should start heading home now.”

You wanted to beat the rush hour of students and working-class alike trying to go home on a late Thursday afternoon. Looking for empty seats on the 4:25 PM train was brutal and you did not have the energy to stand the entire ride home.

Sensing your air of urgency, he eventually relents. Heaving a dramatic sigh, Gojo steps back a few and gives you some space.  

“Gimme a second, yeah?” He rummages around in his uniform pocket, searching for something. It only lasts about a second before he pulls out his flip phone.

“Suguru!” A curt upward nod of Gojo’s head is the only warning Geto gets before he tosses his cell toward his best friend to catch. You’re appalled that he catches it so easily with the little to no notice that was given. “Take a picture of us.”

…Huh?

Your brows drew close-knit together with confusion. “What are y—?!” Before you can even finish your question, you’re pulled tightly into Gojo’s side. 

His arms circle your neck once more, but this time, he uses the opportunity of your close proximity to tip his head to the side and knock it against your own. 

“Smile,” Gojo murmurs into your ear, his slender fingers pinching at your cheek prodding for you to plaster on a sugary smile for the picture.

You don’t have enough time to register, let alone recover from how his lips faintly brushed against your skin, Gojo’s already obnoxiously yelling “Cheese!” towards the awaiting camera.  

Snapping the photo Geto sports a lazy grin admiring his work. “Looks good,” he says before he tosses the phone back to its owner. 

You’re still reeling over the gentle graze of Gojo’s lips against your cheek, too dazed to digest what’s going on around you. What. In. The hell. Just happened??? 

Sputtering out a laugh, Gojo grins down at the image on his phone. “What’s with that face you’re making, huh?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you look up at Gojo curiously. Whatever was in that picture that made him smile that wide couldn’t have been good. “What do you mean?” You question, stepping closer to see what he was referring to on his screen.

Gojo tips his cell over and shows you the photo Geto took. There you both are in grain, Gojo looking the most lively out of you two. Despite the quality of the camera, you can see the proud and happy smile he wears compared to your frazzled and confused expression.

If anything, it looked like you were the one who was graduating and he so happened to snag a photo with you before your big send-off.

“I wasn’t ready…” you grumbled, looking away from his phone.

There’s a faint smile lingering on his face, blue eyes still trained on the screen. His voice's cadence grows warm and carries a small hint of affection.

“That face of yours is what I’m gonna miss the most.”

SUMMER 2009 

To no one’s surprise, you and Gojo kept in close contact, even after graduating high school. 

Well… More so Gojo kept in contact with you. Consistently. 

Whenever he can.

He was there during your spring graduation (shocker), much to the elation of the entire female population from your graduating class. Looking back, the number of times he stopped to pose with random students around the school when he came to greet you was absurd.

You’ll also never forget how loud he cheered when your name was called despite Principal Yaga telling the audience to hold their applause and hollers until after the ceremony.

Fast forward to the summer of ‘09 where Gojo consistently seeks your presence to go and hang out with him now that you have a freed-up schedule. Whether it's with him alone or with Geto and Shoko, you can always rely on him to shoot you a ‘u busy?’ text an hour before dragging you out for the rest of the day.

“Sooo,” you start slowly.

Your eyes skim across the playground, watching the few children who were there amble and climb on the jungle gym before you. The sun was beginning to descend below the skyline, and hues of warm orange press onto your features casting you and your surroundings in a soft glow. 

“You’re a… guardian now,” you state, eyeing how Gojo stretches his legs out beside you. 

You both sit at a park bench, the chorus of laughter and playful shrieks surround you as you watch Megumi— a kid Gojo now supposedly looks after— poke mindlessly at something buried beneath the playground’s sand.

“Yup!” he chirps, but then it’s swiftly followed by a hesitant, “Well, sorta kinda…”

There’s a mental warfare going on in his mind as he combs through the various explanations he can give you, searching for one that would be both concise and easy for you to digest.

“To put it simply, from here on out I’m going to be a constant in Megumi and Tsumiki’s life.”

You think of the step-sibling duo. They’re the sweetest pair of children you’ve had the delight of coming across, and now…

“They’re doomed,” you say with pity, your gaze still focused on the youngest Fushiguro. 

Gojo gasps in disbelief at your bold accusation with his hand flying to his chest, clearly having taken offence. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” he asks.

But before you could give him a smart alec answer, the cheerful exclamation of your name pulls your attention elsewhere. The soft thump of Tsumiki’s shoes approaching prompts you to smile brightly. With open arms, the girl practically throws herself at you and giggles.

You give her cheek an affectionate squeeze. Despite her being in the second grade, you couldn’t help but coddle her. “Why hello, Tsumiki!” 

It takes her a few moments to finally release you from the hug, backing up a bit she glances up at you. “Where were you? I missed you on Tuesday, the swings weren’t fun without you!” she says, pouting.

“I wasn’t feeling the best, so I had to turn down Gojo’s invite to meet you guys at the park that day.”

Upon hearing all the commotion, Megumi spots Tsumiki talking to you a few steps from the play area. It prompts the young boy to walk over and join you three at the bench. He nods his head over at his step-sister and says, “She thought you guys broke up.”

Huh?

You blink rapidly. “Broke— Broke up!?” You squawk, the inflection of your voice rising at the ‘up’ part.

Where could she have possibly gotten that idea from? You and Gojo weren’t even dating!

Gathering your composure you plaster on a sweet smile, ready to explain to the young pair that you and Gojo weren’t together like that before a heavy arm comes hunkering down onto your shoulders. “Even if she tried, she can’t get rid of me that easily,” Gojo comments.

Christ.

Tsumiki claps her hands together in glee at this revelation. “Yay! ‘Cause I like you!” she confesses. “I thought I’d have to deal with Gojo and his friend with the big ears pushing me on the swings forever.” And with that, the girl’s already off running to the big yellow slide, pulling Megumi along in her wake.

The sweet smile you wear grows more and more strained the longer you two sit there on that damned bench with Gojo’s arm still lodged around you like it belonged there. 

Long delicate fingers drum themselves along your bare shoulder which leaves a tingling sensation that lingers against your skin.

“Gojo Satoru…” you hiss between clenched teeth.

Your hand creeps up to give his knee a mean pinch, but as always, Gojo reads your movements like a damn book and catches your hand in his before that could happen. “Hm?”

“What do you mean ‘Hm’?” You gesture in the general direction of where the kids are playing. You feel your brows start to pinch together. “Why would you tell them that?!”

“It’s true though, no?” Snowy white wisps of hair fall in front of his eyes shaded by his signature round sunglasses. “We haven’t ‘broken up’ and we’re still together. Just not in their understanding of it.”

“You—! That’s not—” You flounder for words, trying to spit out why he can’t go around inadvertently feeding into the imagination of whatever relationship Tsumiki and Megumi thought you two had. But you come up blank.

“You’re irritating, you know that?” you say, as you try (and fail) at removing his arm which still rests comfortably around your shoulders, pressing you tight against him. “You’ll wind up confusing them.”

An easy smile slips onto his lips as he observes Tsumiki and Megumi scramble up the slides. “Relax,” he responds. “They’re smart kids.”

And until it was time for the Fushiguros to go home, there you two sat underneath the thinning ochre sky. Stuck under the guise of an unspoken relationship.

WINTER 2011

Being the “middleman” between two people who are so obviously into each other but cannot figure out how to hang around each other normally was all too common for Shoko.

It’s a shame that Geto wasn’t available to come down and hang out with the three of you tonight, he would’ve revelled in getting a kick out of this expected yet unexpected… turn of events.

Brought in as a buffer between you two, with an unlit cigarette dangling loosely from her lips Shoko leaned back in her chair and watched the buzzing scene before her unfold with bemused eyes. 

Underneath the comforting golden glow of the restaurant’s hanging table light, Gojo picks at the cookie dough chunks that litter your plate to which you turn a blind eye. Now, Shoko could’ve easily brushed this occurrence off, seeing that friends often eat from each other's share of food all the time.

But something was... different.

With Gojo seated to your left inside the booth, he neatly cuts up a piece of his soft, creamy cheesecake and leverages the small serving on his spoon. “Here, try some of mine,” he says.

Harmless, right? 

So, you reach for your own spoon to retrieve the sample of dessert that he was offering you. But without any hesitation, Gojo lifts his cutlery to your lips and prods the food toward your mouth.

There was no way that he intended on doing this right here, right now. In front of Shoko especially.

“Say, ‘Ahhh’!”

Concern creases your brow when Gojo continues to press the spoon against your lips, idly humming as he waits for you to open your mouth so he can spoon feed you as if he were your mother. A delicate, yet sure hand cupping your chin and everything.

He was being serious.

From your peripheral, you catch the slow spread of a Cheshire-like grin creeping onto Shoko’s face.

You press your fingers onto Gojo’s wrist and frown. Trying to retreat from his hand, a peal of nervous laughter bubbles out from you at his display of reckless affection at the table. “Give me a br—”

Gojo uses the opportunity of your uncertain state to slip his sharing of the  Japanese cheesecake into your mouth in the middle of your sentence. Your eyes widen a small fraction at its creamy taste, prompting him to comment, “It’s good, right?”

The cigarette threatens to slip from Shoko’s mouth, as her lips slightly gape at what just happened before they curve into a soft smile. Her brown eyes are warm with… something. It’s as if she knew something that you didn’t.  

“Ehhh…” Is all she says before you’re already jumping down her throat to clear up any misunderstandings.

“It’s nothing!” you supply in a rushed manner. Your main objective was to simply imply that this was nothing for her to lose her head over. Hell, even the friendliest of friends feed each other all the time! Right?

But at your remark, Gojo’s mouth downturns into a cute little pout. “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” From the corner of your eye you glance at how he’s fixed another spoonful of the dessert, and it's hovering in your direction.

“Sato—” Fuck.

You quickly correct yourself on your mistake, and school your voice to have a bit more edge to it. Despite that, you don’t overlook how hard Gojo’s beaming at you. “Gojo, not now.”

“Ehhh?” Shoko exclaims once again, but this time the cadence of her voice has changed. It’s gained an amused note to its tune. “You call him Satoru now? Since when?”

“I’ve been begging her to use it for the longest time ever,” Gojo answers on your behalf, and he ignores your mutter for him to please stop talking in favour of jabbing an accusatory finger at you. “You know how painful it was to see you be all chummy and on a first-name basis with everyone but me?”

Lord. You’ve forgotten how dramatic he could be. 

There’s a teasing glint in Shoko’s eye that you quite don’t like, and her lips purse heavy with consideration at his comment. “You make him beg?”

Groaning, you cross your arms against the table and bury your face. You can’t with them. Your two former upperclassmen were the bane of your existence right about now. 

“I’ll kill you both,” you mutter, your speech muffled by the fabric of your sweater.

A FEW YEARS LATER

A calming blue nightly glow ripples through your curtains, casting your room in nothing but moonlight. Amidst the serene silence, you idly stare at your screen and read the text Satoru sent you right as the clock struck midnight.

Satoru: Are you home?

What an ominous question. Your eyes skim over his message again. And then again. 

…And again.

Thumbing through your phone, you glance at the time displayed on the top of your screen. It’s been five minutes since you’ve opened his text. You should probably send something back soon before he quintuple texts you.

As you’re about to respond right when Satoru immediately shoots you another.

Satoru: I KNOW you see this!!! ( `ε´ )

Satoru: Hurry hurry hurry

You: yes... why?

Now it’s his turn to take a while to respond. First, it takes a couple of minutes for you to receive that pinging chime; indicating that he’s texted you back— which isn’t too bad because you like to consider yourself a pretty patient person. 

But then five minutes slowly turn into ten, and that ten becomes a whopping fifteen until finally he answers.

Satoru: Open your door.

What the fuck.

Satoru: Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepl

So that’s why he took so long to reply. The man was coming all the way down from his place to come and visit you!

You: you're actually insane.

You: hold on!

Rising from your seated position on your bed, you stalk over to your bedroom door and are about to exit when you spot yourself in a nearby mirror.

“Oh!” you exclaim to no one in particular. You can’t open the door for him looking like… this.

Wait, why do you care about what Satoru thinks of your clothes?!

 He’s seen you wearing much worse. Like that one instance in first-year, when you had to borrow Geto’s spare parachute pants because Haibara accidentally spilt his soda all over your lap during an informal outing with everyone.

Yeesh.

Shaking your head, you slip out of your room and pad down your apartment hallway wearing your discoloured oversized band tee and shorts. Upon reaching your door, your hand hesitates on the doorknob. 

It stays like that for a few seconds until the doorknob is rattled in a fashion that’s all too persistent, annoying, and all from—

“Satoru!” you hiss, swinging the door open. You’re ready to chew him out on how much of a nuisance he may be for your sleeping neighbours a few doors down. But your looming reprimand falls short on your tongue once your eyes take in the man facing you.

“Happy birthday!” 

In the darkness, the soft glow of sparklers illuminates your features and highlights the exquisite details of a beautifully decorated cake held in Satoru’s hands.

Wordlessly, your hand aimlessly searches for the light switch to brighten up your hallway so that you may get a better look at what’s on the cake. 

Something trembles in your chest and it hurts a little to breathe. But not in the way that you detest.

He’s cute.

Gojo Satoru is so heartbreakingly cute.

On the cake, you see that damn grainy photo you two took on his graduation day back in ‘08. The photo you love to hate.

Wetness springs to your eyes from the entire gesture, from the fact that he ensured he was the first one through text and physically to wish you a happy birthday, and from the fact that he’s here right now.

“Hey…” There’s concern creasing Satoru’s expression as he pokes his head down a little to get a better read on you. “Are you crying?”

You sniff back your tears and grunt out a watery, “No… Shut up and come in already.”

Ushering him inside, Satoru hands you your cake, toes off his shoes and heads straight to your living room. Good to see that he’s already making himself at home.

Plopping himself down onto your couch you hesitantly follow behind him, suddenly feeling like a stranger in your own home. “Come, come!” He waves a welcoming hand at you and pats the seat beside him, insinuating that you should sit.

With immediate interest, you do as he says and take a seat beside him after you position your cake in the middle of your coffee table. The couch feels so small now, with him spread out like that.

Pulling out something from his pocket with one hand and tugging off the party hat from his head with the other— had he been wearing that the whole time?— Satoru clears his throat. “Before you cry again, I gotta make sure you’re able to see your present first.”

He takes your head in his hands, and you realize his fingertips are a little cold as they press on your warm cheeks. Stretching the string down from the party hat a bit, he places it under your chin and snaps the cardboard cone into place on your head.

Breathing a noise of satisfaction seemingly content with how you look, a cheeky grin dances across Satoru’s face. “Perfect. You can now go ahead and open your gift,” he says, handing you a small black velvet box with the company logo HW scrawled across it.

“Wait, what,” you deadpan.

This can’t be what you think it is.

“It’s not a ring!” Satoru blurts. But composes himself seconds later with a quip of, “Unless you want it to be?”

Har. Har. Very funny.

You disregard what he’s said and peel open the box with caring hands.

Inside was the most extravagant necklace you’ve ever laid eyes on. A diamond pendant laid bare inside the box in the shape of a forget-me-not with your birthstone at the flower's centre. 

That could’ve easily cost him a little over one million yen if you think about it deeply.

“Satoru!” you squeal.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around his neck and squeeze your longtime friend into your loving embrace. Satoru’s gift to you almost topples and sinks into the crevice of your couch had it not been for his quick hand to catch the necklace.

Your heart’s racing, and initially, his body goes rigid until he gradually relaxes under your hold. “You’re crazy, ’s too expensive!” you sparingly chastise him. 

Satoru swallows hard and brings a careful arm up to reciprocate the hug. You feel the warm press of his arm against the thin material of your shirt. 

“Nothing’s too expensive if you’re involved,” you hear him murmur into your ear. “So, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You give him one last bone-crushing squeeze, hoping that your rare show of physical touch does not go unnoticed and exemplifies how grateful you are. Pulling away from him you look him dead in the eyes. “Thank you, seriously.”

Shrugging you off like it was no big deal as if he didn’t blow double, maybe even triple the money the average Japanese businessman earns on a singular paycheque toward your necklace, Satoru casts you a gentle smile and changes the subject. 

There would be no need to dwell on it any longer with what’s to come.

“Now…” He gives your lower back a soft pat. Once, and twice. “A birthday kiss from the birthday girl.” Satoru puckers out his lips and shuts his eyes real tight, making a huge show out of it.

For extra effect, he even hums a prolonged Mmm-ing sound to emphasize him waiting for you to initiate it.

It’s a joke; you know he’s joking. He has a ridiculously long history of being overly affectionate with his teasings and whatnot. 

But this time, you really do lean in and take said kiss from him.

There’s something incredibly adorable about this kiss that has your heart surging in your chest. Partly because it’s the first time that you’re kissing each other, but mostly because of how frigid and careful it is. It made you feel as if you were in high school all over again, trying a plethora of new things for kicks and giggles.

The tension was almost palpable, thick enough to suffocate the air he breathed. Even when you pulled away creating space between you both, Satoru still felt a lingering lump in his throat.

Cracking your eyes open, you see that Satoru’s own are blown wide. Piercing cerulean eyes stare unblinking at you. Normally, you would’ve found that to be off putting as hell, had it not been for the slow rise of a blooming pink crawling up his neck.

“Sorry,” you offer weakly. Sensing that you may have gone too far, you make an effort to scoot off his lap. But a determined arm holds you in place.

“Again.” He swallows thickly, and your eyes follow that mesmerizing movement in his throat. “I… I didn’t do it right. Please.”

And who are you to make him beg? So, you do as he says.

Leaning in, your lips press against Satoru’s once more. And this time, he has the sense to close his eyes and bask in it, not daring to let his nerves get the best of him (though he’d never admit it). 

Slotting yourself to be more flushed against him, the tips of your noses brush and you feel Satoru’s hand smooth down your spine. The pads of his fingertips press onto your exposed skin peeking out from underneath the hem of your shirt bunched around your hips.

God, you wanted him bad.

It’s abrupt, the way you push yourself off him and force yourself to stand on your feet, breaking the kiss. The rise and fall of your chest is a bit staggered and Satoru’s is too. He’s all red-faced and his snow-white hair is a bit dishevelled, considering how many times you’ve combed your fingers through it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Cute. 

That alone made you want to jump his bones even more.

You shake your head and get one good look at him before you leave him to head down your hallway. He looked perpetually enraptured by you, eyes hyper-focused on your every movement.  “Come to my bedroom.”

Satoru’s stunned, the implications of your remark not lost on him.

And like a keen lost puppy, of course he follows. He joins you in your bedroom seconds after you and stands in the doorway, just kind of hovering there. Not sure of what to do.

Wait. Did he come here too fast? Did that make him look overly desperate? A million and one questions rush through Satoru’s mind as his neck grows red, stained with embarrassment, want… arousal. 

Seeing how he seems to be short-wiring at your doorway, you beckon him to join you on the bed with your hand. Once he does, he sits extremely close next to you. His clothed thigh brushes against your bare one, which sends a jolt of electricity through you.

Your fingers find his nape once again and they stroke up on his fresh undercut, prompting him to shiver a bit. “Why’re you so shy all of a sudden?” you question, your voice going gentle with a provoking edge to it.

Gaining some of his personality back, Satoru pinches your cheek. “‘Cause I didn’t think you’d want to kiss me!” But his mean hand then turns soft and slides along your jaw, his thumb rubbing smooth circles into the skin just below your ear. 

“Well, I’m here,” you say, scooting impossibly closer to the man beside you, “and wanting.”

Message received.

Hauling you onto his lap, Satoru cradles your face in both hands and kisses you deeply. It’s full of emotion, expressing all the things he’s been wanting to say for the longest time. A trembled exhale escapes you, and it’s through that that Satoru uses the opportunity to slide his tongue alongside yours. 

The kiss is frenzied, but so filled with love.

“So you like me?” he asks, his breathing laboured.

“Yes,” you bite, pushing him away from you and onto the mattress. “As if swapping spit with you wasn’t enough.” You guess you’ll have to show him how much you undoubtedly like him, love him even, through other means. 

He huffs a breath of laughter and drops his back onto your bed. Underneath you, you see Satoru’s eyes sparkle as he watches you have your way with him. 

But something’s up.

His eyes climb up a little higher and this time, he barks out a real laugh.

You still have that piece of fuck sitting on your head. You probably look stupid as hell right now.

Discerning that you’re about to raise your hand to your head, Satoru holds your wrist in his palm. There’s something bright that gleams behind those alluring pools of blue, warm and tender. He bites back a smile. “The birthday hat stays on during sex.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “You’re so dumb,” you growl with artificial frustration and tear off the cone-shaped hat from your head, tossing it into the depths of your room. He whines at its loss, but you’re quick to placate him with a slow roll of your hips into his lap.

Satoru’s jaw clenches and his hands fly to your waist, gripping you tightly as you continue to grind yourself down onto his erection. Your ministrations pull a wanton whimper from his lips, one that has you grinding with more purpose— the purpose of hearing that sound again.

“Do you like that?” you ask.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, else he’ll let out a pathetic string of moans.

“I know, me too.” Satoru’s dick lurches in the confines of his pants as he watches you dry-hump him into the mattress slowly, your eyes shining with lust. Fuck, he could get hard just off your expression alone. “It feels reeeally nice being up on you like this,” you continue.

You have a fucking dirty mouth. One that Satoru’s growing more and more addicted to the more you speak.

There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs that you can’t quite alleviate. While rolling your hips into Satoru’s lap— with his occasional thrust to match your movements— felt good, it can only do so much. You wanted and needed more.

And so did Satoru, because he’s already pulling at the waistband of his pants. His thumb loops two layers and tugs both his pants and boxers down, revealing his toned V-line. 

Fuck.

You fall victim to Satoru’s enamoured gaze from below, which makes you squirm hot with arousal. “Take it off,” he commands.

He wants you to strip him of his clothes. 

Caught taking a startled breath, you ignore the wicked, handsome smile that slinks onto his face as you slip off his lap so you may curl your fingers around his waistband and pull. Your pussy clenches when his erect dick springs into view, and the heat pumping through your veins runs a little hotter.

You shiver at how pretty and filling his dick looks. After a few seconds of openly ogling at his lap, Satoru clears his throat which successfully gets you to drag your eyes back up to his face.

“While that was nice,” he starts, leveraging himself up onto his elbows and grins at your cute error, “I meant you, baby. Take it off.”

“Oh.” 

Seriously? Just ‘Oh’?

Mentally facepalming, you shimmy your shorts down your legs along with your panties. They pool down at your ankles and you step out of them to stand between his legs.

Fully sitting up, Satoru pats his lap; encouraging you to sit on him again. “C’mere.”

You crawl onto his lap, but you don’t sit down fully. Hovering a few inches away from his cock, your knees press on each side of his thighs, trapping him in. 

There’s no way in hell you were gonna sit down right now, knowing that if you do, you’d be pressing your bare pussy onto his naked thigh and he’d feel everything. Exposing how wet you are.

Humming, Satoru lifts the hem of your oversized top to your breasts and sighs. “Pretty,” he murmurs before he leans forward and captures your nipple into his mouth.

You gasp harshly at the titillating feeling. Your hands balance on his shoulders for support, as he rolls your nipple on his tongue.

“Sa— Ah!” You cry out. The hand between your legs startles you and has you whimpering in the open air.

“You’re wet,” he comments, slipping a finger against your slick pussy.

“Shut up about it…”

But he doesn’t. Another finger joins the first and delves down between your lips, gradually easing them inside you. They push against your walls, curling in a way that has you gasping into his neck. “You got wet from grinding alone, huh?” 

A breath stutters out of your mouth and you rock yourself against his hand. You can’t take this anymore. You want more. “Do you have a condom?” you ask.

“I—” he groans when your hand slides between you two, your fingers curl around his dick and stroke his tip along your leaking slit. “I didn’t bring one, because I didn’t think we’d—”

Oh.

Biting your bottom lip, you sling a heavy arm across Satoru’s shoulders. You meet his hungry gaze with one of your own and inch closer toward his dick that rests against his stomach. What you’re about to do could be risky, but at this given moment you couldn’t find it in you to be overly stressed about it.

“No worries,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, “I trust you enough to pull out in time.” And like that, you push down on him and ease Satoru’s cock into your aching cunt, making him bottom out inside you completely.

You’re so wet and slippery that it took little to no effort for him to slide inside. The noise of your slick sticking to where you two meet at the hips has you two moaning softly in unison.

The harsh mutter of your name echoes off your bedroom walls and goes straight to your cunt. “So tight,” he grits out behind clenched, white teeth.

Each time you slide up and down on his cock, Satoru grows more unrestrained with his vocal appreciation of how well you take him. Desperate little moans escape him each time your sweet cunt squeezes him of all he’s worth.

You were no better. Choppy, broken whimpers can be heard from you, loving how he stretches your walks with your length. He fits perfectly inside you like your cunt was destined for this moment, for him alone. 

“Let me fuck you,” Satoru blurts out. He was losing it, and he could feel him tipping closer and closer to the edge of release.

“You are— Ugn!” you say weakly when his hands grab your ass and he stands, lifting you with him as if it were nothing. Kicking off his bottoms, Satoru props you on your back against your mattress.

 Crawling between your legs, he positions the crown of his cock to press against your opening. “No,” he drawls, with one hand on the base of his shaft and the other propped beside your head. “Let me fuck you.”

He pushes in and you swear you see stars. 

Satoru pistons himself faster and faster inside of you, rocking your bodies against the mattress which makes your wooden headboard tap noisily against your drywall.

You fear your neighbours may have some… less than pleasant words to share with you about the noise tomorrow morning. 

“Ah! Fuuucking— shit!” You wail. Euphoric tears start prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Don’t stop, please!”

The pleasure melts through you when Satoru presses down harder into you, his hand finding the back of your right knee and hikes your leg around his waist so that he can fill you at a new angle.

“Baby,” he murmurs into your neck. He says it like you’ve been his for years. “Say my name.”

“S—Satoru!”

Laughing a little, probably too fucked out of his mind, Satoru removes his face from your neck and presses a hot, searing kiss onto your lips.

You yelp when he drives his cock more harshly into you, growing more desperate with the urgency to come inside you.

Riding his high, Satoru says the first thing that comes to mind, which is a long drawn-out, “Haaa…”

What Satoru meant to accomplish was to wish you another ‘Happy Birthday’, but of course, it all gets garbled up in his throat due to his approaching orgasm and comes out sounding fucking obscene.

That’s what gets you.

You come hard, your back bowing off the bed. Satoru, remembering your initial statement about how you trust him to pull out, does exactly that. Albeit, he did it at the very last second, but you avoided a pregnancy scare. So you can’t be mad.

Thick ropes of his cum splash across your bare belly and some get on your top. You’re hyperaware of how it trickles down your abdomen, some dipping into your belly button.

Wow.

Breathing hard and heavy, both coated in sweat among… other sensual fluids, Satoru rolls onto his back.

“Stuck with me for life, huh?” he asks, delicate fingers intertwined with yours. 

You hum. “Seems so…” you agree quietly. 

Now that you think about it, there hasn’t ever been a moment where Gojo Satoru hadn’t been present in your life, ever since meeting him during your high school days.

You two lay like that for some time, soaking in each other’s company until the early traces of morning light ripple through your curtains.

You’re about ready to shut your eyes until your thoughts are accosted by something you offhandedly forgot. 

“Satoru?” you begin, tone nice and sweet.

“Hm?”

You sit up slowly so you can peer down at his blissed-out face. “By chance, was the cake you got for me made out of ice cream?”

You know how deep his love for sweets goes. You just pray and hope to whatever higher power that he chose the safe route and chose a normal ca—

“…Yeah, why?”

Jumping out of bed, you rush to the living room where the cake is probably spilling its guts out all over your expensive, mahogany coffee table. “You IDIOT!” 

A string of curses follows you out into the hallway, as Satoru sits on your bed confused.

“What’d I do?!”

Whether you liked it or not, you were stuck with this bumbling idiot if he had any say in the matter, an invisible string keeping you two bound.

And maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Even if it’s at the cost of your ¥20,000 table.

if you read this far, we're fucking making out.

[nottsangel]

impatient — t.n.

pairing: theodore nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut 18+, unprotected vaginal sex, degradation, face slapping, creampie, cursing, dirty talk, cum eating, public bathroom sex

word count: 2.3k

summary: it was difficult keeping your hands off your boyfriend while with his friends, so you decided to tease him until he gave him.

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You couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was that made you so incredibly horny tonight— whether it was your boyfriend’s piercing blue eyes staring at you, or his expensive cologne filling your nostrils, or his deep voice and Italian accent, or maybe all of it combined with the alcohol in your system. Whatever it was, you felt an ache between your legs, prompting you to rub your thighs together to create some friction— you desperately needed to feel him and it consumed your mind.

Theo was completely oblivious as he chatted with Draco— a cigarette in one hand and the other arm wrapped snugly around you. You were discreetly watching him, observing every single detail as you bit your lip, yearning for his touch. Poor Pansy was busy prattling on in detail about her new crush, but it was one ear in and the other out as you were distracted by Theo's gentle touch beneath your shirt, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin, and the way his eyes occasionally met yours, making your heart flutter.

Even though they were more Theo’s friends rather than yours, hanging out with the Slytherins was usually fun, however, this time around wasn't quite as enjoyable. Your mind was filled with countless thoughts and fantasies of Theo fucking you in every way imaginable— missionary, with your hands pinned above your head, or doggy style, while he roughly pulls your hair, or— “You alright, cara mia?” Theo’s deep voice snapped you back to reality, causing your eyes to widen as you blinked rapidly, nearly choking on your saliva.

“Y-yeah, why wouldn’t I?” You responded quickly, furrowing your brows and forcing a smile, masking your true thoughts as you gazed up at him, trying your hardest to hide the fact that him, naked, on top of you is the only thing on your mind right now. Theo’s blue eyes briefly narrowed, considering your behaviour to be somewhat strange but he shrugged it off, taking a drag from his cigarette.

His rough hand roamed over your body, from your waist down to your thigh, dangerously close to where you craved his touch the most. You bit your cheek, struggling to maintain composure as you were practically eye-fucking him and watched the smoke lazily drift from his lips. Fuck it.

“Actually, no. I am not alright.” Theo redirected his attention to you, his brows drawing together in puzzlement as he gazed down at you before you rose from your seat and moved to sit on his lap, facing him with your arms wrapped around his neck. He spread his legs wider so you could sit on his right leg more comfortably, his eyes tracking your every movement.

“What’s wrong, Piccola? Talk to me.” Theo asked with curiosity as you drew closer to him, your nails lightly grazing his skin, sending shivers down his spine as you gathered the courage and whispered into his ear. “I’m so fucking horny, Theo. I need you. I need to feel you inside of me.” His eyes widened a bit and his jaw clenched as he uncomfortably shifted in his seat, taken aback by your response. Theo collected himself quickly before taking another drag from his cigarette and exhaling the smoke, its scent filling your senses, before putting it out.

“You’re gonna have to wait, princess.” “But Theo-“ “I said, you’re gonna have to wait.” He repeated himself with his gaze fixed ahead of him and his voice cold and devoid of any emotion. His authoritative tone and piercing gaze made you feel a chill to the bone, yet it somehow only fuelled your desperation. Pressing your lips to his neck, you placed soft kisses on his skin while wiggling your ass right on his crotch, causing him to instantly grip your hips with one hand, holding you firmly in place, his nails digging into your flesh.

“You’re playing a dangerous game here.” he warned with his lips pressed tightly together, his expression reflecting a sense of disapproval. Challenge accepted. You knew you had his attention now, and you weren’t going to give up that easily as you gazed up at him through your eyelashes, batting your wide, doe-like eyes. The contrast between your innocent appearance and your naughty behaviour only turned him on more.

Normally composed and collected, Theo found it increasingly difficult to control himself as he prodded the inside of his cheek with his tongue, growing visibly more frustrated. A cheeky smile spread across your face, knowing you were close to getting exactly what you wanted. “Just let me make you feel good baby, I know you want it. I’ll even let you cum inside me.”

Theo’s knee restlessly bounced up and down while he tried to focus on the conversations in the room— Lorenzo was once again bragging in detail about some girl he fucked the night before, but it became unbearable when you subtly began kissing and sucking on his earlobe while your soft hands wandered all over his tense body.

“I’m wearing that set you like. You know, the black one... with the pretty lace.” You paused, taking in his stressed form with a sly grin. “It’s just a bit… a bit uncomfortable, though. You should help me take it off.” Theo momentarily closed his eyes and inhaled sharply before unexpectedly rising to his feet, causing you to stumble forward. He forcefully seized your wrist and pulled you along as you struggled to keep up with his fast pace and felt his grip tighten with each step.

“Where are you off to?” Draco asked confusedly but Theo ignored him, his gaze fixed ahead as he purposely strode forward with long steps, as if driven by a clear goal. Opening the door to the dimly lit corridors, deserted at this hour, he forcefully dragged you along with him.

“Theo, where are we-“ “Shut up.” You gulped when his stern voice cut you off, taking long strides as the chilly air prickled your skin with goosebumps. He pushed open the door to the toilets and aggressively hauled you inside, causing you to let out a small squeal. After closing the door behind him, he turned, looming over you, his large figure pushing you towards the sink, causing you to stumble backwards and shiver as the cold porcelain met your back.

It was dark and quiet in the bathroom— shadows clung to the corners and edges of the room while moonlight softly illuminated your boyfriend's handsome features, providing the only light in the place. The occasional drip of water from the sink added to the mysterious and eerie atmosphere, emphasising that you were the only souls in the vicinity. An unpleasant mix of heavy cigarette smoke along with the faint lavender scent of soap entered your nostrils, only to be quickly overpowered by Theo’s cologne as he stepped closer and closer to you, his tall body pressing against yours.

Theo abruptly gripped your face, his fingers pressing into your cheeks as he forced you to meet his gaze. “You wanna behave like a fucking brat? Then you’ll get treated like one” He hissed as he let go before your face abruptly met the palm of his hand, slapping you with force. Your head cocked to the side as you felt a bit lightheaded due to getting more turned on with each passing second, your arousal dripping down the inside of your legs beneath your skirt.

Theo gripped the back of your thighs before swiftly lifting you up and placing you on the flat surface of the sink. He smirked when he noticed your wet underwear as he spread your legs before massaging his thumb over your clothed swollen clit, causing you to take a hitched breath. “So pathic. You just always need to be filled with my cock, hm?”

He moved his mouth to your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine before he began sucking on your skin, leaving you covered in love bites. “Use your words and tell me what you want, bella.” He whispered, followed by him sucking and biting on your neck more aggressively, causing goosebumps to form all over your body before wrapping your legs around his body to pull him closer to you.

“I want— need to feel you inside of me, please.” you murmured, your fingers running through his soft hair while his hands wandered to the hem of your shirt before pulling it over your head and tossing it across the cold tiles of the empty bathroom. He met your pleading gaze with his own intense blue eyes, gleaming in the moonlight before removing his own shirt as well, revealing his muscular body and making you drool at the sight.

“And you think you deserve it?” he questioned while sliding your soaked underwear off and tossing them on the floor. You nodded cautiously, unsure of what answer he wanted to hear but the need to feel him taking over your entire brain. “You do? Such a stupid fuckin’ slut.” He growled before unbuckling his belt and pulling both his pants and boxers down as his erection sprung free against his abs, precum dripping from the tip.

“If you want it that bad, then I’ll give it to you.” He growled before he positioned himself in between your legs and pushed in with one quick thrust, no warning, making you moan out his name as you threw your head back. He quickly set an unrelenting pace, completely stretching you out as you felt a hint of pain that was soon replaced by immense pleasure as he pounded into you. His hand travelled over your tits, squeezing them firmly before putting his thumb in your mouth, forcing you to suck on it as you innocently gazed up at him. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

He then removed his thumb from your mouth before his palm struck your face with force once again, the impact of the slap sending a burst of a stinging sensation through your skin, igniting a feeling of ecstasy as the tip of his cock simultaneously brushed against your sweet spot, causing you to let out a shattered breath. “You like that shit, no?” He asked with a condescending tone and a malicious grin on his face, his Italian accent heavier than usual. “Of course you do, such a naughty girl. Always beggin’ for my cock.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but were unable to form any coherent sentences, resulting in merely choked sobs to leave your mouth as his cock massaged your walls so perfectly. Theo gazed down to where your bodies met, watching his cock disappear into your body, making him groan. “Gonna fill you up so good, bella. You want that?” He asked, his voice raspy and hoarse.

You eagerly nodded with your eyes closed as his hips snapped against you and the sounds of smacking flesh echoed in the empty bathroom, along with your erotic moans as the pleasure kept building. He gripped your face, forcing you to look at him as your eyes shot open, “Use your fucking words.”

“Fu— fuck, please! I want it so fucking bad” he released your face before his hand roamed to your core followed by his thumb rubbing fast circles on your swollen clit, causing all of your muscles to tighten, your fingers gripping the edge of the sink as if your life depended on it. You felt your release nearing as his cock brushed against your g-spot over and over again, each hit sending a wave of pleasure through your entire body. You wrapped your legs tighter around his torso, bringing him as close to you as possible.

It didn’t take long before your orgasm finally struck you, causing your back to arch and your vision to blur as you clenched tightly around his cock, seeing stars as he fucked you through it. “That’s it, princess. Cum all over my cock.” He didn’t come long after you as his thrusts became sloppier and his fingers gripped the flesh of your hips firmly followed by him emptying himself, feeling the familiar pool of his warmth deep inside of you. A string of Italian curse words left his lips as he threw his head back and painted your walls white with his cum.

He rode out his high while you struggled to catch your breath, your chest heaving up and down before he gently pulled out. Your legs were trembling as you felt his sperm slowly trickle out of you, but Theo was busy putting his clothes back on before gathering your underwear from the floor and stuffing it in his pocket. “What are you doing!? I need that, I’m literally dripping everywhere!” You snarled, knowing that if you stood up right now, his cum would drip all over your legs. “No, you don’t.” Theo replied coldly before running his fingers over your cunt to gather your mixed juices, causing you to wince in overstimulation before he forcefully stuck his digits in your mouth, forcing you to suck them clean as you drooled all over them. “Problem solved.”

Feeling exhausted as your eyes struggled to stay open, you whined, “Let’s just… go back to your dorm and shower together, please? ‘m so tired.” Theo lifted you gently and set you down, causing you to sway slightly on shaky legs. He gathered your clothes, helped you dress, then planted a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Not a chance. We’re gonna go back to the others and you’re gonna face the consequences of your own actions.” He ordered strictly before taking your hand and dragging you through the door to the chilly corridors once again.

“But— but literally everyone can see we just had sex Theo, it’s fucking embarrassing.” “Good. Let everyone see. Let everyone see that only I can fuck you this good. Let everyone see that you’re all mine, cara mia. Mine and mine only.”

reblogs and comments are very appreciated !!

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[cordeliawhohung]

Touch Me 'Till I Vomit (pet!au) [1]

ghoap x reader pet!au where simon keeps johnny as a pet, but can't keep up with his high sex drive and antics. in order to satiate him, simon decides to go looking for another pet to keep the silly pup entertained. sort of an introductory work bound to become a series of one shots like my mafia!au

cw: simon is a freak, non-con photography, a little dark content, nsfw, slight bdsm dynamics, owner/pet dynamics

Simon wasn’t a photographer, not a good one anyway, but he wasn’t to blame. His large hands were better fit for shredding meat than creating art, but he figured all art was good when the muses were beautiful. 

He had been on the hunt for nearly three hours by that point, wandering throughout the city where the population was thickest. Armed with nothing but his phone, Simon captured photos of various specimens that meandered throughout the streets as they went about their lives. There were roughly twenty pictures he had saved in his gallery of unsuspecting women he figured would be Johnny’s type. Pretty blondes in flowery dresses, alluring doe eyes looking out at the streets; he stole photos of any soft and sweet thing that he figured Johnny would have fun sinking his teeth into. 

A black mask and dark clothes wasn’t the most unsuspecting thing for him to wear on such an outing, yet it was to his advantage at the same time. Several women had caught the slight glint of the camera lens on his phone as he stole eternal glimpses of them. Many of them had even opened their mouths to protest his intrusion, until they looked at him, anyway. Not many people had the bravery or fortitude needed to stand up to a creature as wild and brutish as him. Their mouths shut with such promptness he nearly chuckled at how bashful they were. 

Hunting got more difficult as the sky grew darker. Fresh meat hid behind locked doors that Simon could have easily torn down if he had so desired, but that wasn’t the time. As the lights started to illuminate the street, he dived down into the depths underneath London where tunnels spanned for miles, spider-webbing just below the skin of the city. The stench underground grew more acrid the further he pushed and Simon couldn’t help but huff at it. This was why he enjoyed living out of town, off in some secluded home nestled in the cold embrace of trees and lavish fields. 

Made it harder for his pet to wander off, too. 

The sharp clicking of heels caught his attention as he waited just beyond the yellow line on the platform. Dark eyes flickered to the newest prey that approached, and Simon found himself drinking in the sight of her. Proper clothes covered her body with a simple blouse and a pencil skirt. Dark tights covered the expanse of her legs with its sheer fabric where it was beautifully topped off by a classic pair of heels. The sway of her hips was dramatized by the steps she traversed, her pace slow and careful lest she roll an ankle walking in those heels. 

She was dressed professionally, and if Simon had to guess it was for an interview. By the look on her face, it didn’t go very well. Distracted eyes stared down at the phone in her hand as her lips pressed into a frown. Anxious fingers tapped away as she typed out a message to someone — perhaps a lover? Someone would be crazy not to snatch up a specimen such as that — as she stepped down onto the platform. 

Before she could get too close, Simon quickly dug his phone out before stealing a photo of her. He had gotten so used to the motions he didn’t even have to think about it; not that it was difficult anyway. With her attention still focused elsewhere, he found he was able to snap a few more before she finally put her phone into her bag and began to pay mind to where she walked. She continued further into the platform, well past Simon, and vanished into the crowd as if she had never been there at all. 

Cute. 

It didn’t take long for the tube to take Simon to his stop, and it was even shorter before he seated himself in his car to head back home. The drive itself was the longest part of everything. Annoying traffic, bad drivers; he didn’t feel like he could untense his body until he approached the familiar sight of home. The old and dilapidated building wasn’t much more than an heirloom passed down in the Riley family, but it had quickly become his sanctuary. Seclusion meant he was safe. Seclusion meant he could love in peace.

Warm lights poured through the sheer curtains that covered the windows and were only disturbed by a figure pacing around just beyond them. Simon’s car died off with a sputter as he pocketed his keys before approaching the door. A thick deadbolt kept the house latched tight and secure, though he was confident Johnny knew better than to attempt to dash out by that point. Especially not that day when he had the prospect of such a good treat. 

Johnny was there to greet him at the door with a toothy grin, and the damn pup nearly knocked Simon over as he bounded up to him. His hands pawed at Simon’s chest as if he couldn’t get enough of him, and he didn’t calm down until the man grabbed hold of the collar around his throat. Blue eyes widened as he looked up at his owner, lips twitching with all the words he wanted to exclaim.

“Down,” Simon warned. 

“Did ya get the pictures? Like you said you would?” Johnny questioned, his body still unable to retain his buzzing excitement. 

Instead of answering him verbally, Simon gave a sharp tug on his collar before directing him further into the house. Ancient wood floorboards creaked underneath their weight as they entered the living room. It was devoid of all decor, unless cracks in the paint could be considered art. A rusted lamp was the sole source of light in the room, and the only thing even worth looking at was the glorious stone fireplace that sat against the far wall, but it was much too warm out to light. 

Simon pulled Johnny down onto the old sofa next to him, and the man instantly burrowed into his side, eagerly waiting to see the pretty pups. The phone screen illuminated both of their faces in sync as it blossomed to life, and Johnny almost salivated at just the prospect of what he would see. It didn’t take Simon long to pull up his gallery, and he scrolled to the first photos he had taken that day before angling it so that his excited pup could see it too. Twitching fingers reached out to swipe along the screen, and Simon watched as Johnny’s eyes dilated at every piece of meat he looked at. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he shifted on the couch, and all it took was a simple glance to see how worked up the poor pup was. A hardened bulge strained against the zipper of his jeans, and a groan reverberated in his throat as he continued to swipe through the countless choices put in front of him. 

“Si, they’re all so beautiful. Can’t I have them all?” Johnny whined. 

“Only one,” Simon countered. 

“I’ll be good,” Johnny said with a pout. 

“Just one, Johnny,” Simon repeated, voice more firm. 

Sighing, he continued to swipe through Simon’s phone as his eyes glossed over beautiful legs and delicious hips. It had been so long since he had last seen a woman it was nearly impossible to hold himself back. His body craved them in a way he couldn’t put into words, and he felt like the only thing that would offer him solace would be to burst out of his skin. 

His restless buzzing suddenly ceased when he caught sight of the last group of photos in the gallery. A beautiful woman had him utterly transfixed as she appeared to have descended down a long set of concrete steps. There was something about the troubled look on her face that had his mouth watering. Like he knew he would be able to fix it. Like he could bully the worry out of her with his cock alone. 

“This one,” Johnny said, his decision definite as he held the phone up for Simon to see. “I want this one.” 

[quirrrky]

—•✦ THE BOY IS MINE

OIKAWA, KUROO, BOKUTO showing you that he belongs to you and you to him

≡ NOTES ⋮ I'M BACCKKK! and I'm super excited, can;t wait to fangirl w/ y'all! I'm gonna cri 😭 I miss my boys sm T^T bokuto's made me giddy and kuroo's got me smiling like shit...don't get me started with oikawa!

OIKAWA

You were on the sidelines watching the man you adored so much being adored by so many other girls. No lies, some of them were prettier than you, you’d think. They could be a good match for your boyfriend.  

Still, you didn’t bother. Tooru always assured you of your worth and how perfect you were for him in every sense––the most beautiful in his eyes.  

Tooru delivered an impactful serve, and the crowd cheered including the other girls beside you. Even from afar, he sent you a smile with a matching flirty wink. The girls squealed with so much giddiness, probably thinking it was for them.

He cast another glance at you, which you returned primly.  

You were always his number one fan. You might not be on par with him when it came to Volleyball, but you didn’t mind being his cheerleader, his anchor and the source of his strength whenever he’d feel inadequate.  

You were secured and not moved by how many fangirls he had until now. The reporter pulled Tooru to the side together with a known female Volleyball player who’s around the same age as him.  

The two of them were the top players of their teams–the most competent. The reporter and everybody else simply admired seeing the both of them side by side.  

“Oh! They look so good together!” You heard those around you murmured.  

“Maybe they’re dating...” The others speculated. 

A bitter sting gnawed inside you. The image of Tooru happily playing Volleyball with a partner who could really challenge him head-to-head was making it difficult for you to breathe.  

You were lost in your thoughts when you suddenly felt a hand around your wrist, gently dragging you somewhere.  

T-Tooru?  

He brought you by his side and laced his arm firmly around you. 

“Practice and perseverance are totally the keys in winning but for me it’s not just that,” Tooru responded to the reporter. “We all need a lucky charm, I tell you.” He pulled you closer to him, shifting his gaze to lovingly study your face, saying, “And I got mine right here.”  

You blushed, feeling the heat crawling all over your face. The crowd squealed and hollered yet they didn’t matter in that moment.  

The reporter ended the interview with lighthearted teasing directed at you and Tooru, prompting the start of the last match.  

“How ‘bout a good luck kiss, huh?” He teased.  

“W-What’re y-” You weren’t even able to finish as he already placed a sweet peck on your lips. “Tooru!” You complained when he parted, and he replied by playfully sticking his tongue out.  

Your fingers travelled your lips. Perhaps, you’ve got nothing to worry about after all.  

KUROO

It’s a big day for you and your boyfriend. It would be the first time he’d be giving a welcome remarks to open his institution’s black-tie event. You were even proud to be the one who did his speech.  

As his extra special plus one, he never left your side with both of you just keeping things, hands to yourself, acting as a professional and sober couple. 

However, you were bothered to say the least. You always knew that you had a fine boyfriend. He looked straight out of a novel after all. Tall, handsome and with a good suit to complete the look.  

Tetsurou seemed like every billionaire bad boy in the books you’d encounter in bookstores’ new adult section. It’s no wonder that the girls in his company party all had their eyes on him like he’s a piece of hunky meat they’d jump on at any moment. 

Deep inside, you’d want to be swallowed by the universe below. You were never insecure about your looks, well, maybe sometimes you were like right now! Were you not even pretty enough for them to keep their attraction to themselves? Were you not playing the eye candy part so well?  

Do you even look good beside him? 

Black dress, pretty face and hypnotic smile all amplified by the sweet scent of honey—you’re Kuroo’s most prized possession, not that he treats you as an object. Well, yes, to put it simply you’re the object of his desires, adoration and affection.  

Wasn’t it obvious that you were with him? Yeah right, call him petty, but he couldn’t bear the eyes of these bastards on you.  

Hell, pretty was even an understatement when it came to you. As much as he wanted you to be revered for being the goddess that you are, he still couldn't accept all the gawking you’re receiving and him being disregarded like he wasn’t even there when he’s the boyfriend, the future husband and the forever person.  

He promised he’d behave himself and keep the PDA on low since today’s a formal event, but it looked like he won’t be keeping up with that anymore. 

Jolted, your shoulders rose as Tetsu slithered his arm around your waist. He tugged you closer to him so you were both attached to the hip. You just froze in surprise when he leaned, placed a kiss on your forearm and dropped another one on your shoulder.  

You felt the heat rushing to your face. Your eyes held his as they met. “What...what are you doing?” you whispered and he propped his chin on your shoulder.  

“Showing them who you belong to.” 

Internally, you’re partying. You’d be lying to say that you didn’t want that because you definitely want to show all these girls that Tetsu would only have his eyes on you. “Okay, just don’t overdo it.” 

A lopsided grin appeared on his face. “Not very sure about that.” 

BOKUTO

At last, your fiancé, superstar athlete Bokuto Koutaro, will be arriving home tonight. It has been several months since he’s been away to train and to participate in the Olympics. Now, he’ll be coming home after playing with his utmost best.  

You were standing, waiting for him in anticipation at the airport. This was the moment you’d been waiting for and your face immediately lit up after seeing him walk from the arrivals. His eyes were still sleepy with his pillow still latched around his neck.  

In anticipation, you took a step forward approaching him, but the reporters and his fans beat you to it. Now, he’s swarmed with the crowd taking pictures and asking him questions. Some of them were even bumping into you and all you could do was watch. You were just a mere ordinary citizen, lurking in the shadows of those who admire him.  

You clutch on your chest. You were truly happy for him. Genuinely happy for the recognition he’s receiving. He deserved every bit of it, but...How you’d wish to be closer to him. Be the home he goes back to where he could be just Koutarou, the loving and silly boy you came to love. You just missed him so much. 

A bitter smile appeared on your face, surrendering to your fate until his eyes met yours across the sea of people. He glowed radiantly, beaming at the sight of you. Without hesitation and despite everybody else around, he made a way for himself towards you. 

With so much excitement, you yelped as he hugged you tight and carried you that your legs hooked around him in reflex. Koutarou peppered kisses over your face cooing so lovely that he finally got to see and be with his most adorable Y/N. You giggled, getting a little ticklish with his kisses.  

“Babe, babe! Not here!” You protest in middle of chuckling. “There are people around.” 

Koutarou pouted. “But I miss you so much.” 

“Me too,” you said in a wide grin and he giggled like a school kid finally getting his favorite toy as present.  

He rubbed his nose against yours. “Let’s go home!” 

@pixelcafe-network

[targaryen-dynasty]

SERENITY.

Part 2

Dad!Aemond Targaryen x wife!niece!Reader

With Aemond’s arm around you, and his lips pressing against your temple, the fatigue you were feeling could wait for a little while, if it meant you got to indulge in those rare moments of serenity for just a little bit longer.

WARNINGS: Canon typical incest/Targcest, fluff, female Reader (no mentions of appearance besides color of her eyes), mentions of difficult pregnancy and birth, soft dad!Aemond

WORDS: 1.1 K

“Hae mērot gierūli. Se hāros bartossi.” As one we gather. And with three heads.

The voice was a distant rumble. It held a familiar edge to it, yet your tiredness made it difficult to make out where it came from. The calmness of it made you want to sink further into the silk sheets, the soft sigh leaving your lips indicating that you were close to falling asleep again – until it settled that you heard voices in your chambers. In the midst of the night.

Reaching to your side to check for the man you had married three summers ago, you couldn't feel his body right where he was supposed to sleep, the vacant spot already cold, which suggested he had been gone for quite some time by now.  

And if you had to guess, you’d say it was late into the Hour of the Owl already.

“Prūmȳsa sōvīli. Gevī dāerī.” We shall fly as we were destined. Beautifully, freely.

When your lilac eyes eventually opened, your marital chambers were only dimly illuminated, forcing them to adjust to the dark. Most candles had gone out, and not more than an ember glowed in the fireplace. The light of the moon, however, shone through the drapes hanging in front of the windows, highlighting their subtle movements in the gentle breeze, and the tall frame of your husband standing behind them. 

A deep sigh escaped your throat, one that gathered the attention of your occupied husband. You hadn’t even been aware that you had held your breath, and quickly placed a hand on your chest to stop yourself from making any more sounds, not wanting to wake your babe.

“Ēdrugon, ābrazȳrys,” he hummed, though his voice was slightly muffled. Sleep, wife. 

Leaning over the edge of the cot standing on your side of the bed, there were no distinct snoring sounds coming from the boy it belonged to, his little blanket missing as well. It merely was the reddish dragon egg sitting neatly in the corner, having yet to hatch. Your boy was nine moons old by now, and it became less and less likely it was going to hatch at all. 

You rose from the bed, quietly, and pulled a thin robe over your shoulders, tying a knot in the front. Sidling toward Aemond, you soon spotted the small head of your son resting on his shoulder with your husband’s lips pressed gently against the side of the boy’s face. A warmth spread through your body at the sight, your heart fluttering. 

“Emā naejot ēdrugon hae sȳrī,” you purred, cautious to not wake the sleeping babe in his arms. You have to sleep as well.

As you came up to him, you brushed your hand over Aemond’s back, resting at his waist, and craned your neck to meet his eye. His sapphire eye was gleaming in the soft light the moon casted upon you three, making him look as if he had been forged and created by the Seven. 

Your lips pressed to his shoulder, and only then did you notice that he was bare-chested, prompting you to raise your eyebrows. Aemond slightly turned and reciprocated the gesture, oblivious to your surprise, though his lips pressed to your temple with him taking a deep breath of your scent. 

He carefully shifted the hold on your son, supporting him with his right arm as he slid his other around your waist to pull you against him and meet your lips for a kiss that robbed you of your ability to breathe. 

“He was not able to find rest,” Aemond rasped, words fanning over your lips. “He sleeps most peacefully in our arms than in the cot, you know.”

You nodded, and allowed your fingers to ghost along the crown of his head, caressing the tuft of silver hair your son possessed. Your eyes crinkled at the corners, your heart swelling at the realization that you two had created the very being Aemond just cradled in his arms.

Turning your head toward the window overlooking King’s Landing, you were in awe that the rawness and vulnerability of the moment even made the filthiest of cities seem peaceful and quiet, yet the true sight to behold was and always would be the prince standing right next to you.

Despite the rift parting your House into two, Aemond had always been a dutiful husband, taking care of you and protecting you just like he had vowed to do on the day you wed in the traditions of the Faith. Duty. It had never been more than that to him. But with your pregnancy taking a woeful turn, and the much more miserable birth following, something in him had changed. 

His training with the sword could wait more often than not, if it meant for him to get the chance to bond with you, and, after the birth, your son. And knowing all too well that he prioritized full nights of sleep, moments like these made you even more aware of how much he had grown into his newfound responsibilities. 

For all that the people of court found the prince to be cold or even cruel at times, he was nothing if not incredibly gentle with you and your son. 

When you looked back at Aemond, you already found him staring at you with the striking lilac eye of his, an expression of deep affection written all over his features. The warm look in his eye made you feel weak in the knees, just like it always did. 

With a soft smile on his lips, his hand trailed from your waist to your stomach, gently rubbing over the small bump that slowly started to blossom. His touch was tender, loving even. 

“You deserve your rest more than ever with the child growing within you,” he noted, “return to bed and get some sleep, my love. I shall watch over him.”

You nodded as you watched Aemond’s head tilt forwards to look at the sleeping boy that was cradled in the crook of his arm. You were exhausted, but at the same time, a part of you wished to spend every moment you could with your little family.  

A cheeky smile grazed your lips. “But what if I want to stay?”

His brows raised slightly as he regarded you, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I believe that we,” he nodded towards your son, “would not mind your company, provided you are not too tired.”

“Perhaps just for a few moments longer,” you replied softly to which he nodded in return.

With Aemond’s arm around you, and his lips pressing against your temple, the fatigue you were feeling could wait for a little while, if it meant you got to indulge in those rare moments of serenity for just a bit longer. 

[marigoldenblooms]

An Important Lesson - One-Shot

Pairing: Professor!Wanda x Fem!Reader (MINORS DNI - 18+)

Prompt: After years of rigorous study, you were nearing the end of your graduate program. Companionship had become a figment of your imagination, until your film professor caught your eye. Taking something from her desk, you hope you could catch hers- and you got more than you bargained for.

MINORS DNI - 18+

Tags: Who is Y/N I don’t know her, Dom!Wanda, Sub!Reader, Porn with plot, teasing, orgasm denial, vibrator use, thigh riding, Mommy kink, Professor kink (sparingly), no aftercare, slight dub-con, dumbification, praise, dom/sub dynamics, power imbalance (professor/student), age gap (Reader is 26 while Wanda is 34), brat taming if you squint. 

A/N: Holy balls, I did not realize smut was so hard to write. Major kudos to all who seem to do it so effortlessly! I know I envy ‘em. This is my first foray into writing this kind of fic (my university’s spring break has brought a lot of writing firsts), so if you have any feedback I’d love to hear it! This is also vaguely proofread! Wanted to do some practice before the evental sex in Unica Sempter Avis (Because USA is certainly an Abbreviation of All Time), and other ideas I’ve got cooking up. I'd love to write another part to this, if y'all would be down! Thanks y'all again!  Edit: An Important Lesson is getting a second part! Read a teaser here! >:)

Word Count: 2.5k - Read length: 9 minutes, 5 seconds.  Pictures aren't mine, credit to their owners! ~~~ 

The pen hadn’t been worth stealing, and yet here you were. 

Professor Maximoff’s classroom was overwhelmingly quiet, dark and empty with familiar rows of tables curved in a half arc around her desk, pushed off to the side. She’d always pace within the front few rows where you sat, and you’d have to crane your neck to keep her in view when you weren’t scribbling down paraphrases of what she said. She taught Advanced Film and Media Critique, which generally lended itself to analyzing the shit out of old TV shows. Maximoff was a difficult professor, but you weren’t looking for easy, especially in your graduate program. After a few years of working your ass off to make enough money, you’d wiped the floor with your bachelors and now you were vying for your masters, in your last few weeks of grad school. And you knew Professor Maximoff liked you, which didn’t make it so bad. 

You knew other things about her too - for instance, there was no way she wasn’t a lesbian. Whenever you’d raise your hand her eyes would snap to you, and you swear her face would curl into a smile that was beyond professional. You’d catch her staring in your direction during exams on multiple occasions (to be fair you did the same when she wasn’t looking, but that’s besides the point), and you swear up and down that she winked at you during your midterm. She’d hold onto your hand a little too long when you turned in papers, and always offered ‘tutoring’ sessions which you humbly declined in the beginning of the semester, your grade being nigh perfect in her course. Between that, the short nails, tailored suits, and the rings- oh, so many rings- there was no way your professor wasn’t gay, and possibly had the hots for you. Your studies had been your priority over companionship for so long,  And now, within a few weeks of your final, why not make a move?

Heist films had been the topic of last week’s lecture, and so nicking something small would be a good segway, right? You’d return it to her tomorrow after class, mention something flirty (perhaps about stealing her heart), and see where it went. If you were lucky, you’d have her number by the end of the course, and perhaps take the older woman to coffee after your final exam. You’d bring her to the movies, but that might turn into more of a lesson than a date. 

As you’d pluck a pen from one of her desk drawers, you notice that it was slightly heavier than most. You clicked it once, then a second time- and nothing happened, so it went into your pockets. You’d move to exit the dim room, before a plaque caught your eye- her degree. It was neatly pressed into its frame: Wanda Maximoff, Masters of Arts in Film and Media Studies. You remembered her mentioning she was working on her doctorate, a proud grin sparking at that. Perhaps you’d get to know more about her dissertation and herself shortly. ------------------------------------------

Class went by faster than most, although it didn’t help that you were anxiously awaiting the end of Professor Maximoff’s lecture. She had worn a trim fitted sleeveless blouse and buttoned pants, both beautiful shades of burgundy. A myriad of gold rings decorating her hands as she’d motion with them through her talk. You’d have to keep your eyes off her fingers, nose deep in notebooks as you’d scramble to collect her words before your incoming final exam. 

“And what is the significance of I Love Lucy’s laugh tracks?” Wanda would ponder aloud before your hand immediately shot up, the lone attempt out of your fifty or so classmates. She’d grin at you, “Yes, dear?” 

You almost forget what you were about to say, holding onto the vestiges of it as you’d sputter, “Oh, uhm- yes, well, I Love Lucy didn’t have laugh tracks, mostly- they were the first sitcom to have a live studio audience.” Her eyes would crinkle with mirth, and you could tell immediately that you had the right answer. You tuned out her words as your mind would swim, thinking back to the weighted pen in your jeans pocket. The pet names were new, settling a joyous fuzz both in your mind and between your legs. It was things like this that had you on the back foot- this was your chance to get her back.

------------------------------------------

“And I’ll see you all in two days,” Wanda would return to her desk, sitting atop it rather than in the chair behind it. One of your classmates had asked why in an icebreaker towards the beginning of the semester, and if you remembered correctly she said ‘Just like the view from up here,’ or the like. If you’d been on the same track mind as now, you probably would have noticed how she stared at you during her spiel, a detail only discovered in hindsight. Now, you had all the pieces. 

You pack up slowly, shimmying your belongings into your overly stuffed bag. Hanging back until there were few students left, you flag her gaze with a hand and an upturned smile, “Professor, I was wondering if I could..” Your words would halt in your throat, thoughts thickened and syrupy as she’d look down to you, head tilted a degree off kilter. Would it be embarrassing to admit you’d never been this close to her before? Her lips would be pursed, but would break into a wild grin, and you felt yourself melt right there. You weren’t a teen anymore goddamnit, focus- “Talk-” you’d squeak, clearing your throat hastily to camouflage the blunder, “Talk with you, after class. Professor.”

Her brows would raise, and you could almost see the cogs rotating in there. Her eyes would dart within the now-empty room, adjusting her position on the desk- and it’d become increasingly obvious (you can deny it no longer) that you were standing directly in between her slightly parted legs. This wasn’t how you were expecting it to go, but here you were. She’d start taking off her rings. “Of course, darling,” she’d tease again with a roughened lilt. Those damn pet names. “What do you need?”

“I think I have something of yours, Professor-” Your mouth would open a few seconds before you’d speak, and you swear she’d smirk at how she had you, devoid of any thought. Something about her had you smiling and kicking your feet, and boy did she know it. Without any further bravado, you’d pull out the pen, “I hate to say it, but I think you’ve stolen-”

“Oh,” She’d breathe, Wanda’s face tinting with a pinkish hue, yet her smile only grew larger. Her gaze would narrow, voice dripping with a sultry air that almost knocked you off balance, “I didn’t let you borrow that, did I?”

“No Professor,” you admit, beginning to launch into your story, before she’d shush you- shush you, words piling up into a lump in your throat. 

“And do you know what it does, darling?” She asks, her tone a breathy whisper now. You swallow, shaking your head no. She fucking giggles. She takes the pen from your hand, clicking it three times, and it’d start to buzz. Oh, my god. It was a fucking vibrator.

“Too dumb to even recognize what this is? And I thought you were so smart..” She’d tease, a flush forming on your face in tandem with a shiver down your body. You open your mouth to speak, and yet her warm, calloused fingers would clasp your jaw shut. “Shhh, don’t want your pretty little head to even think, darling. How about Mommy show you how it works, hm?” 

You’d nod immediately. She’d abandon the toy, clicking it off as her hands would slip beneath your shirt, and it felt like time had frozen. She was so soft, and your mind glazed over. Your breath hitched as she’d trail upward, palming your skin before running her fingers over your bare breasts. You’d watch as Wanda’s pupils would blow in seconds, a devious smile bubbling into view, “No bra?” She’d murmur lowly shaking her head as she’d start to knead your flesh, “Just couldn’t remember it, hm? My precious student, too busy thinking of me to get dressed, were you?” You nod again, a pitiful mewl escaping your throat. 

“Yes- Yes, Professor..” You arch into her touch, although that bliss was short-lived as you feel her dig her hands further into your tits, sharper than you’d like. She’d tsk at your reply, and you look up to meet her eyes- oh, that was the wrong answer. 

“Did you already forget my title, baby?” She’d ask almost tauntingly, her gaze sharpening as she’d shift her hands from your skin. You’d chase her warmth, dazed as your skin would flush and tremble, slotting yourself up against her. She’d run her thumb over your lips, crooning at your immediate submission. She could use that. 

“It seems Mommy has a lot to teach you, dear..” Her touch would ghost across your exposed forearms, her feather-light touches only stuttering your breath further. “And I think you’re ready for your first lesson. Think you can handle that, darling? Keep your eyes on me,” Her hands would dig into your jeans, rougher against the hem’s fabric, “Think you can take this off for Mommy?”

“Please..” You beg, raising your hips to strip yourself bare, your glance trained on her. You don’t miss how her eyes darted down to your bare cunt, having slid off your panties too, or how she licked her lips at the sight of your slick. Her hands would hold your legs open, the cold lecture hall’s air chilling your exposed skin. Still staring at Wanda, you’d discard your shirt in the same breath, her jaw clenching as all of you felt the cool air. Feeling exposed, the urge to flee ebbed away some of your arousal. Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom? Your focus was immediately drawn again as she’d capture your chin in her hand, pulling it harshly to meet her gaze. Her eyes were dilated, a thin sheen of sweat on her brow as she’d pant, both from your disobedience and your thighs rubbing against hers. “Look at me,” she’d hiss, taking your lips into a searing kiss. Your answer? Fuck. Yes.

Your cunt would grind against her leg as Wanda would pull your hips up and onto her thigh, grip bruising as your lips would crash together. You could smell her vanilla perfume as she’d tug at your bottom lip with her teeth, a familiar buzzing sound heard but not registered before you felt it on your clit. “Mommy- yes, Fuckin’ christ, there-” You’d keen, lurching back as Wanda’s hand would rest on your hip, keeping you from escaping her touch.

Wanda would groan at your words, voice a little breathier as her hips would stutter against yours, “There’s my good girl..” Teasingly, she’d circle your clit with the pen-shaped toy, gasping herself as she’d feel the aftershocks of its pulse on her clothed cunt. “Taking Mommy’s toy so well..such a sweet girl for your Professor-” 

You’d rock your hips against her, the friction from her dress slacks and the vibrator’s pulse bringing you to the edge embarrassingly quick. Wanda wouldn’t notice your frenzied breathing or how you lost your rhythm, but she would hear your words; drawn between husky whines, “Mommy, please, I’m so close, fuck-” Your face would flush, legs beginning to tremble before the whole feeling was ripped away from you, Wanda’s grip leaving as the buzz would click off. With shaky breaths, your eyes would rise to meet hers- only to see a teasing grin. She’d pat your arms, gently coaxing you off of her thigh, the few sparks of friction from that not enough to bring you anywhere close to your release. You’d blink, thoughts thickened and reeling, brow furrowed ever so slightly for her- and Wanda loved it. 

“You did so well for your first lesson, dear..” She’d croon, brushing herself off as she’d rise to her feet, leaving you on her cluttered desk. “But, Professor, I didn’t-” You’d begin and she’d silence you right there, hand rising to close your jaw shut again. 

“And you won’t come unless you call me by my title, darling. You’ve received your correction for your first mistake- and for stealing from me,” You nodded slowly, absorbing her words as though they were molasses, and her smile only widened at how dazed she’d made you. “And if you disobey again when you’re with me, alone- then I’ll lower your grade by five points. Understand?” 

If you were in any kind of fog before, you cleared it from your thoughts immediately. “Yes, very clear- uhm,” You pause, noticing the stain on her pant leg where your pussy had ground into the fabric, and you feel your face warm. Wanda would shift her stance and you’d look up- she leaned above you, a single brow raised. You’d swallow, keeping your eyes on her completely, “Yes, Mommy- I understand.”

“Good girl.” That was the right answer. She’d smile at you, her praise going straight to your cunt. Could she not have given you a few more seconds? Maybe you could’ve gotten off without her noticing. She’d interrupt your mind with a quick peck on the lips, and you felt your wits slow, swimming with thoughts of her mouth. Oh, that was why- couldn’t get away with anything if you didn’t think anything at all. Wanda’s grin would only intensify as she’d watch you dress, clothing rumpled from the haste it had been taken off. After a few minutes, you were back to prim and proper..besides your racing heart and flush whenever Wanda so much as moved. “This was great..” You’d murmur, pressing the wrinkles from your shirt, gaze flicking back up to Wanda’s- your professor still watching you with a smooth, secretive smirk. 

“Of course it was, dear..but it’s still nice to hear you say that. Anything for my best student,” She’d wink at you and you’d fold, feeling your palms clam up. Since when were you this weak in the knees? She’d settle at her desk again, her hands clasped together on its wooden grain. You’d be taller than her now, with her sitting down- and yet there was an aura she commanded that you couldn’t outdo. You turn to leave without any further fanfare but her voice would seize you again, just as warm as her touch. “I’ll be expecting you after tomorrow’s classes, then? I think some…after-hours remedial work for my course would do you well.” 

Were you really about to fuck your professor in her own classroom, again? You’d leave her hall with a bright smile, a reply, and a secret. Your answer? The same as before - Fuck. Yes. 

And your secret?

You’d stolen the ‘pen’ again.

[queers-gambit]

Love What You've Done with the Place

song by Rascal Flatts

prompt: he's never been a man built for relationships, until you come into his life. now, the house feels like a home.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: more brain rot rambles, probably cursing, NOT edited, very docile, fluff, romance, hardened men being simps.

It started with clothes. Just a few, here and there; left behind, forgotten, purposefully stuffed in his dresser for when you stayed the nights. He didn't mind, in fact, Tangerine encouraged you to bring whatever you felt comfortable with leaving since he hated how early you'd leave in the mornings to get ready for work. He found his mornings were peaceful when you were around; neither rushed, both content, starting your days on high notes with each other.

So, he made the decision and found an old sitting-vanity for you. He put it in his bedroom simply because he was fascinated with the hair and make-up process; thinking it was incredible that women had such skill. When he came home about 3 months ago, he noticed your vanity when he first got home from a particularly difficult mission. Your chair was draped in an old university tee shirt, and he smiled.

It was like watching your comfort grow and it warmed something deep in Tangerine's heart. Your make-up wasn't always in a neat array, sometimes just left from a quick touch-up; making the house feel more like a home.

Tangerine also bought a strainer for the shower's drain to catch your hair. He didn't get angry like previous boyfriends did when he found strands of your hair left behind - not on purpose or by some gross standard, but it was natural that hair shed in a shower and not every single strand could be picked up. So, to make life easier, he just quietly bought the hair trap, placed it, removed whatever empty bottles from the shower, and went about his day. But then he started to notice your hair left other places.

His counters, his sink, the floor, your vanity, his bed sheets and pillows.

Tangerine had his issues with possessiveness in the past, but this wasn't remotely similar. No, Tangerine found himself smiling when he would find your hair in his clothes; thinking it was funny, almost like a mark or badge of honor to designate him as yours. It was a brief thought, but Tangerine actually felt giddy by the idea of people just knowing he was off the market 'cause his lady's hair was clung to his suit jackets.

He liked it. He really did. He'd not admit it aloud, but he liked it.

Tangerine wasn't the most humble man in the world, but he certainly liked to flash what was his. Golden jewelry, expensive, tailored suits, shining Italian leather shoes. And now, you, the woman who invaded his heart and head - and now his home. He adored showing you off, feeling affirmed and invigorated by the longing glances men threw your way, and while he expected jealousy from other women, they seemed more impressed by your beauty and grace as well.

He remembers one night, after a several weeks long mission, he just wanted to hold you. His throat was a little choked up when he called you, knowing you were at home after reading an earlier text. So, you rushed over in the middle of the night and he'd yet to let you go home - three days later.

"You've gonna have to let me out of bed sometime," you smiled playfully. "I have work tomorrow - and no, I'm not calling out again."

"C'mon, love, don't leave me alone," he whispered, looking like a beaten down puppy. The mission was much harder than he'd let on, but Lemon usually always filled you in. He thought it was important for you to know certain details that Tangerine was sure to omit, knowing those were the details that haunted him.

"I'll be back after my shift," you promised, nuzzling his nose with your own. "I also need new panties and clean clothes."

He sighed, "Some in there," he pointed to his closet now.

"What?" You giggled.

"You've left enough behind, got a bit of a collection goin', yeah?" He smiled softly, wrapping you back up in his arms. With a sigh, he relented, "I'll let yah go to work, love, just... Need this a bit longer."

You obliged, but the next day, you were gone before he woke up. With a frown, Tangerine dropped back onto the bed - but inhaled deeply when his nose buried into your pillow. He hummed in pleasure, feeling himself brim with contentment, bringing the fluffy item to his chest and nuzzling it; your perfume left behind to soothe him.

Was Tangerine clingy? Oh, for sure! He didn't think so, but you knew better. The contract killer liked you close, liked his hands on you; even if it was just a hand on your waist or a nose near your neck. He missed you when gone, but he usually held himself back from texting you all day - wanting you to be able to focus on your job.

But that day? He was inept, just wanting you; wondering if he paid you the same salary, if you'd consider just staying home. So, he texted you several times.

This obviously threw you off a little, knowing him better than himself most days. But he just missed you, so, you sent a selfie - promising you missed him too and would be home right after work.

He saved the photo and tried not to dwell on how you said you'd "be home" and not "come to his place". He had to take a few moments to calm down, feeling his heart zing with unfamiliarity - but not being afraid of it like he had been when you first started dating. He could recognize he was happy, that he was excited to see you everyday, and that the idea of coming home to you was far too appealing to ignore any longer.

It seemed neither of you needed to actually have an official conversation about living together. Lemon didn't mind, in fact, he was the one who insisted you have your own key; adoring you and whatever affect you had on his emotionally constipated brother. So, some mornings, Tangerine wasn't surprised to find a slightly damp towel left hanging in the bathroom, nor by the make-up on his counter - you using that mirror because of the fluorescent lighting. He never put it back, he didn't move it - he liked seeing it. It meant you were still here, and the idea of it being gone made his stomach knot with anxiety. He also wasn't surprised when he went to use the shampoo you insisted would help his curls flourish (you were right), only to find it damn-near empty. His shower gel, too.

When you came home that evening, you had Target bags in hand; replacing whatever was empty, making Tangerine grin to himself by how in-sync he felt with you. He'd never had a connection such as this, only ever feeling close enough to Lemon, but you changed everything for them both.

How Tangerine ended up with someone courteous was truly beyond either of them. Someone kind, caring, adventurous, sweeter than pie - someone definitely out of Tangerine's league, something he never let himself forget. He adored you to your core - thinking someone such as you should never have gotten tangled up in someone like him, but he knew, if the time ever came, he'd never be able to let you go. In fact, most days, he had to convince himself not to just pick you up and carry you around while he did chores or ran errands.

The very idea of losing you sent his heart into his stomach; hallowing his chest in a harrowing fashion that made it hard to breathe. Just a week or two ago, Lemon found Tangerine in the kitchen, hand to his chest as if he couldn't catch his breath, heaving for air; his worry spiking, but quickly realizing what was wrong.

"Bruv, you've gotta breathe - calm down," he tried to coax. "You're having a panic attack, you've gotta just focus on breathing."

"Fuck off with that!"

"Seriously, man," Lemon insisted, catching Tangerine in a vulnerable state enough that he actually listened without much of a fight. When Tan seemed a little more under control of his own emotions, Lemon asked, "What the hell happened?"

Tangerine shook his head, "Nothing t'worry 'bout - "

"Bullshit," Lemon snapped. "I've never seen yah like that, mate, the fuck happened?"

It was embarrassing, but Tangerine managed to answer, "Just... Just started thinking that if she ever left me, I'd fucking crumble, mate."

This made Lemon frown, "She's not gonna leave you, man. You know that. The girl's madly in love with you, yeah? Like madly in love - like to a degree it makes her stupid in the head, all right? Obviously, you too," he chuckled, shaking his head as he affectionately ran a hand over the back of Tan's head. "You're workin' yourself up, 's all right. You don't have to think about that - ever - 'cause she's it for you, mate. Yeah? Hear me? She ain't goin' nowhere, not without you."

Tangerine needed the assurance. Being alone after having a taste of your love felt impossible to Tan now, something he was never bothered by before. Seriously, why give a fuck about a relationship when he had his brother? Someone who loved him unconditionally and wouldn't leave? And then he met you and understood why people gave fucks about relationships.

It was as if every room you ever entered was brightened up simply by your smile. Your laugh wasn't always the most ladylike, but it was genuine and true and always made Tangerine smile to himself. During any public outing, Tan was always close - we've established this - but he liked to play a small game. One of your love languages was physical touch, so, you liked kissing him if even just for a single second. He was aware of your lipstick, feeling the tacky substance stain his cheek, but he wouldn't wipe it off. His game was to see how long it'd take before someone would point it out; his reputation didn't always warrant others to feel secure enough to speak up. Some nights, Lemon would motion to his cheek, and other nights, you'd return home, remove your make-up, and swipe make-up remover over his cheek to clear the color away.

However, it wasn't often you ventured in public due to Tangerine's innate introverted nature. You went if The Agency made it mandatory or if you were feeling stir crazy, but majority nights, Lemon would find you both lounged on the couch in various positions.

Sometimes, you'd be watching a movie together or binging a show. Other times, you were reading a book while Tangerine poured over paperwork. And once or twice, Lemon's come home to find you belly laughing and playfully scolding Tangerine as he tried to paint your toe nails. It was a homey sight to Lemon: seeing his brother so in love and at ease, hearing your laughter, the entire flat filled with warm smells of burning candles and homemade meals.

It wasn't evident at first, but with you laying in Tangerine's arms, clothes left on the floor, bellies full of whatever meal you had prepared that evening, favorite show playing on the bedroom TV, he realized that he loved what you had done with the place.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[steviewashere]

Working It Out

Rating: General CW: Implied/Referenced Depression Tags: Post-Canon, Future Fic, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Teacher Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Sad Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Hinted Breakup Conversation, But They Work It Out, Difficult Conversations, Talking Through Feelings, Soft Eddie Munson, Discussion of Future For @steddieangstyaugust Day 31 Prompt: "I'm not going to beg you to love me."

🎸——————🎸 Steve is happy for Eddie. Really, he is. Has the whole rockstar thing figured out. On the cover of Rolling Stone, booking late night slots on television, getting recognized in public spaces, and selling out stadiums. It’s the life he’s always dreamed of. It’s what he’s wanted since he was little.

So why can’t he be happy, too?

He thought that, by now, he’d have some part of his life figured out. Now that he’s entered his thirties. That he’s got some sort of college degree. A reasonable resume. The social connections needed to climb certain ladders. Yet, he’s not satisfied. Not pleased the way Eddie is.

The house they have is…too much. Lavish and big and bright. Hard earned, but hardly comfortable. It’s not cluttered like the Munson’s trailer was, it’s not warm and welcoming and the definition of pure and utter comfort. That was home, to Steve at least. It was a change of pace from the house he grew up in—alone and scared and desperate for attention he couldn’t find, instead sprawling between empty rooms that had too many windows and cleaning a pool too big for one person. This new house he now resides in is just that. A house.

By now, he thought that he’d be happy. That he’d be waking up refreshed and ready to greet each morning. That he’d be fine talking to Eddie over the phone, waiting around for those late night rings, trying to catch all the messy postcards in the mail. The postcards that come in random intervals and never actually reflect where Eddie is. It makes Steve anxious that he can’t pinpoint where Eddie is most of the time—left to bite his fingernails until he hears Eddie’s voice, and even then…sometimes he’ll call and won’t get an answer. And it’s no use to leave a message, it’ll be a hotel staff member or a person that’s now paying for the room.

All he does is wait and sleep and eat expensive food. He twiddles his thumbs. He’ll take a car to work, met with the smiling faces of herds of kids he teaches, and then he takes the silent drive home. Where he sits on an uncomfortable leather couch, satin pajamas that replaced old sweatpants a few years ago, staring off into nothingness that’s as ice cold as his chest feels.

He hates the waiting around, though.

Sometimes, he just wants to get up and leave. Search for something else.

But he loves Eddie too much, he knows. He’s not going to do that.

——— The front door opens and the thud of suitcases is heard. Steve leaves their bedroom, red eyed and face puffy. Wipes his nose on the sleeve of his pajama shirt, hands shaking with relief. Relief and anxiety and desperation and…terrible longing.

“Stevie!” Eddie crows, greeting. Arms open wide. Whip-wild smile on his face, eyes big, unshaven jaw. His hair is thrown up into a ponytail, bouncing with his boisterous immediate attitude. “Baby, baby…I have so many stories to tell you. It’s been such a good tour! I can’t”—he stops himself abruptly, arms falling back down at his sides. His voice that was previously so loud, echoing to their high ceilings, now softens. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did…did something happen?”

Steve shakes his head. No, he thinks, it’s not Vecna. It’s not the Upside Down. It’s just me.

He takes a step forward, then several, and the last couple until he’s five feet in front of Eddie. Oddly, he feels small. Like the kid that greeted his parents when they came home from long business trips, already angry, already disappointed. He wants to curl up into a ball and keep crying, never admitting out loud what’s wrong. Feels that innate, incredibly deep urge to climb out one of the many windows and just run away. Like he tried to do so much when he was younger, heavy lopsided backpack on his little body, discarding letters of anger under his parents’ door so they’ll know he’s gone, and his mind set on a friend’s house—typically Tommy. Sometimes Carol.

But his friend that he’d go to now, Robin, she’s several state lines over. He can’t just up and leave now. He can’t just pack up his car and go. Eddie’s money is Eddie’s money. And even though they made an agreement that the cash is shared, it still would feel wrong to take some of it just to…abandon all that he has now. Which would probably include Eddie. And he doesn’t want to think of that.

His chest is concave and heavy, yet empty—hollow. Like it’s been for months. For years at this point. He takes a deep breath, ignoring how it shutters through him, makes him half-form a hiccup in the back of his throat. “I’m not…happy, Eds,” he admits in a whisper.

Eddie’s eyebrows raise slightly. Eyes growing bigger and concerned. The corners of his mouth pulling down. “How so, sweetheart?”

Steve can’t look him in the eyes. Looking at the floor below his bare feet. The cold hardwood that resembles too much of his parents’ house. He takes another steady-ish breath, almost gasping with it. Rubs his hands together below his stomach, like a nervous kid about to be caught.

“I hate it here,” he chooses to start. “I hate this house. I hate the way it echoes when I talk into it sometimes. I hate having to…” Steve looks up to Eddie. Merely avoiding his eyes, focused on the tip of his nose instead. “…I hate trying to figure out where you are because sometimes you won’t answer the phone, or maybe the postcard you sent doesn’t come in time. I hate that I even have to call you to figure out how you’re doing. 

“I can’t just turn over in bed and ask you how your day was. I can’t look you in the eyes when I talk to you because you just aren’t there. I’m so lonely, Eddie. I’m so…I feel just so…Empty.”

What follows that is a tense silence that even the sharpest of knives wouldn’t be able to cut. He doesn’t think flames would melt the tension. Nothing could get through it.

“You’re not happy…because of my work?”

He didn’t say that exactly, but it feels like the truth. Steve nods. “I’m happy for you,” he says, “I am. But your dream isn’t my dream. I honestly don’t even know what I want out of life, but I know this isn’t it.

“I’m just so tired of waiting around. Makes me feel like I’m waiting up for my parents to come home. And you know how that was. You know how I felt being there. Like I had to earn their attention, their love…whatever.” He shifts from side to side, still nervous and stomach turning. His eyes ache from drying out after all the crying earlier. He never thought that being honest would hurt so much. Steve swallows hard. Softly, he confesses, “I’m not going to beg you to love me. I don’t want to do that. But I don’t want to live like this either.” He looks back into Eddie’s eyes, finally. Met with the same miserableness that’s twisting inside of him. It makes his heart drop to his stomach. “So, if me being…if my current feelings get in the way of your dreams, I think we better…y’know.”

Steve doesn’t know, not really. Isn’t sure where he’d go right now. If all of this just falls through. He’d probably have to relocate his job, and he doesn’t want to say goodbye to his class of kids. Maybe he should’ve just waited for all of this to go down.

Instead, he’s met with a soft touch to the small of his back. Eddie leads them into their too spacious living room, on that uncomfortable leather couch, huddling in close to one another.

“Stevie,” Eddie whispers, “look at me, please.”

Hesitantly, he does.

“There you are,” Eddie coos. Soft hands envelop Steve’s right. Thumbs working into the hard points of his knuckles, nails gently tracing over old scars. “Baby,” he speaks softly, “I want to first of all say, thank you for telling me how you’re feeling. Okay? I like knowing things like this, sweetheart. Where you’re at in your head. Where you’re at with our everything. And I need you to know that none of what you said affects our relationship. None of it. If anything, it makes me understand you more. Makes me realize what isn’t working for us.

“But you are my first priority, always. Always, Steve,” he speaks firmly. “And I have to be honest here, too. I’m starting to hate the work that I do. I love creating music, I love working with smaller artists, I like getting out and seeing the world. But I hate doing it all the time. I hate that our days out sometimes gets interrupted by people on the street, or paparazzi cameras in our face. I hate that when we call, you sound so fucking tired from your day at work, waiting for me to answer the phone. I hate that I can’t get mail back from you, already gone before it’d come in the mail.

“I hate this house, I do. Even if we’ve had our fun with it”—he wiggles his eyebrows at that, eliciting a tiny snort from Steve—“it’s too big, you’re right. It’s uncomfortable to me, I gotta be honest. This couch we’re sitting on is fucking ugly and really trashy, even if it cost a pretty fucking penny. None of this us, I see that especially now.”

Steve sucks in a slow breath through his nose. Murmurs, “What are you getting at, Eds?”

Eddie brings up his left hand to Steve’s right cheek, gently cradling it in his palm. Thumb swiping reverently on the dried tear tracks there, the sticky hot skin. “I spoke with the band. With my agent. Told ‘em that this was my final tour. That I quit,” he confesses quietly, “that I’m going to sell this stupid fucking house. Move somewhere more remote, smaller, homelier. Somewhere we can be close to our real family, our friends. Maybe even somewhere we can get married one day. I told ‘em, loud and clear, that I’ve got love waiting for me back home that I know for certain I’m not going to find anywhere else.

“Being in love with you, Steve, has been more of an accomplishment, a brighter dream, and a fucking blessing compared to my first dream. You are why I keep going most days. And I don’t want to lose you over something we’ve both come to hate.”

He blinks at Eddie. Blinks and blinks and blinks. “You want to leave it all behind? Just to be here with me? Babe, that’s…that’s kind of insane, you know that?”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie hums. Eyes giddy and warm. “Guess you could say I’m crazy in love with you, sweetheart. I’d rather be with you. I’d rather stay in a home we put together with our hands rather than picking from some stupid catalogue. I’d rather water our plants while you make a classroom of kids smile. I’d rather greet you at the door, kiss on the cheek, taking your briefcase, ready to make us some warm dinner so that we can watch trashy television shows in our underwear, kiss until we’re fucking gasping, and then be able to wrap myself around you in our bed. Every fucking night. That sounds like more of a dream come true than anything.”

“You’d really leave it all behind, though? Just to be with me?”

Eddie rolls his eyes playfully. “Yes,” he swears. “Yes, sweetheart. A million times—yes! If I have to tell you every day that you’re worth staying for, then so be it. But you’re worth everything, you’re worth more than any riches I make from this crummy career.”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s other hand still wrapped around his. “Okay,” he whispers. 

He lets Eddie dote on him, soft and sweet and languid.

And later that night, wrapped around each other in bed, Eddie stroking the bridge of Steve’s nose, Steve’s fingers working circles into Eddie’s hip—they’re content.

“Can we get a dog in our new home?” Steve asks.

Jokingly, Eddie murmurs, “Now you’re asking too much.” He boops the tip of Steve’s nose. But there’s a big, foolish grin on his face. Eyes too soft to mean anything malicious. “I’m kidding, sweetheart. Maybe we’ll go to the humane society in the morning?”

Steve, for the first time in a long while, smiles. “Sounds like a plan, Eds. I love you.”

“Sweetheart, I love you until the universe fucking explodes. And then some.”

🎸——————🎸

[islandofsages]

hey, I could ask the royal boys (Leona, Kalim and Malleus) with the male reader who is already the king of his country, like the boys thought he was a prince like them, but then on any given day he lets out a complaint how difficult it is to govern the kingdom and study for exams at the same time, sometimes he just wanted to be the prince and not the king.

characters: leona, kalim and malleus x king!male reader

tags: platonic, canon compliant, fluff, imagines + scenario format

warnings: a little bit of negativity towards reader in leona's part, a bit of swearing in kalim's

author's notes: loving all the male reader requests rn. i think i strayed a bit from the prompt but i hope you like it anyway <3

Leona Kingscholar

Though being a prince himself, he’s not as “diplomatic” with the other princes at that school - except for you probably. No don’t ask him what happened, he’s ready to accept it as it is

At least because of your (assumed) status, he finds it easier to communicate with you; at least you’re not one of the top five most powerful mages in the world or the most optimistic person in Twisted Wonderland

Hangouts with him still consist more of silent chilling though; both of you just need to get away from it all for a while

He doesn’t question the days that you’re gone - sometimes people just end up needing you to do this and that. He tries not to dwell on it too much, lest his inferiority complex gets the best of him

Until one day, you come back after one day of absence, which is normal enough until-

“*sigh* I swear, being king is less appealing as my retainers make it sound, especially since I also have to go to school all the while.”

I’m sorry, being what now?

He knew you were royalty, that much he got from everyone whispering about you back when you enrolled and since you made little mention of your background, he just assumed you were a prince like him

You let out a tired chuckle then and comment on how you forgot that you never told him you’re an actual king of a nation

He has mixed feelings over this - he thought he finally met someone a little bit like him, yet you’re just another one of them and you never bothered telling him who you are?

But don’t worry, he gets over his feelings of betrayal after a while; it’s not like the reveal changed who you are as a person. You’re still the same guy who he’s been hanging out with and he knows his brain is trying to defend itself

You apologize for not telling him sooner and despite your complaints, you try not to sound ungrateful, especially considering his issues

At some point, even Leona himself starts to forget about that fact

It doesn’t matter if you carry a whole nation on your shoulders because - and he will never say this out loud - he knows you’re capable and if you start to crumble, he’ll be there for you.

Kalim Al-Asim

Though he’s not one to really care about someone’s social status, he’s happy to have more royal friends

Doesn’t stop him from spoiling you. Haven’t you heard? Any friends of Kalim are also friends of his many, many fortunes

He invites you over to Scarabia for parties every so often and either you are surrounded by people or everyone leaves you alone out of intimidation

But hey, if the latter happens, Kalim is more than happy to help you make some friends (unless you’re uncomfortable with it of course but he’ll still try to help)

One time, at one of his many parties, you two were simply laughing over something and it reminded you of something-

“That makes me think of the time this creature took a shit on my throne back at home - it took a few days for the stench to fade!”

Oh, of course, your throne! Everyone totally has a literal throne back home! Until Kalim realizes that is, in fact, untrue

As if he wasn’t already excited at the prospect of a new friend, he gets more excited at the fact that you have your own throne and is, he concludes, a monarch

You brush him off, light pink decorating your cheeks, saying that it’s not really that special - and you mean it

You tell him of the experience and you couldn’t help slip in a few complaints; it isn’t easy to juggle both school and royal responsibilities at the same time

He only listens in and tries his best to understand; he is no king, and though he is a housewarden and a prince, your struggles differ from his by a long mile

From that day on, he makes sure to check in on you and if you’re feeling less than, he’ll drop everything and do anything to relieve you of your stress

When he drops by your nation and your palace, he brings in a whole parade. It’s so Kalim that you can only laugh

You knew that story about a creature shitting on your throne was gonna be a good story at parties.

Malleus Draconia

Your presence is an absolute delight to him; it didn’t occur to him to ask what kind of royalty you are but it didn’t matter either way

He finds himself more comfortable talking about his heritage around you, knowing that you can somewhat relate to being of nobility

If you’re not part of his club, sometimes you tag along on his gargoyle crusades for the hell of it - seeing him so passionate about something brings a smile to your face

On one of your many escapades, he points out a gargoyle and begins to ramble about its features

Hearing it suddenly makes you remember-

“Ah gosh, I just remembered I should be back home right now, some of my people will be coming over to construct some gargoyles around my castle.”

He doesn’t question it at first but then the phrase “my people” registered in his mind. Wait, what do you mean your people?

You start to apologize for not telling him and also the fact that you have to leave that very moment

After you came back after the whole ordeal, you sit him down somewhere and tell him about your position

As mentioned, it doesn’t matter to him what responsibilities you have, as long as you can be his friend

You breathe out a sigh of relief and invite him to continue where you two left off last time

Nothing changes much between you two, except for the fact that you share more of your kingly experiences

He definitely drops by your place at least once - he could never miss out a chance on seeing some new gargoyles

And as he looks on at those beautiful waterspouts, you can’t help but be grateful that they can serve as a source of happiness for someone too.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

HUNDRED TWO POINT THREE

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader

Synopsis: as they say, in sickness and in health, but Aaron Hotchner seems to take sickness too seriously. WARNING: a whole lot of nada (i hope). all fluff. overprotective!aaron (duh). not proofread !!!! Word Count: 912 A/N: THIS IS A REPOST of a req from my sweet, sweet lumi @egdropsoop when i was sick. i had to mourn accidentally deleting the original post. it felt so heart-wrenching. and i couldn't find the draft in my docs for almost a week, so it was another type of panic and heartbreak. this writer is such a dummy sometimes, but i hope rereading the fic in case it pops in your feed isn't so bad

 This week’s case, by far, has been the most difficult you have yet to experience. 

 Besides the buzzing summer heat of Los Angeles and the loud commotion in each corner of the local precinct, not only did you have to bring back sticky sweat and ringing ears, but you also brought back a mind-numbing body temperature of 102.3 degrees.

 With Emily’s driving and Spencer’s constant rambling, by the time you guys arrive at the airport, your body is creaking with chills and joint pain. 

 “Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

 You feel Hotch’s hands lay atop yours, prompting your brows to clash and your head to turn to your side where he towered over you. “What? I’m trying to make tea.” You say disorientedly, breathing quite ragged.

 It’s his turn to knit his brows. “Sounds reasonable, but don’t you think your cup has enough hot water?” You follow where he’s looking at your blushing red hand, steaming with heat. “You’re going to burn your hand at that rate.” He adds, lifting his gaze back at you. 

 He reads you for a moment. Your pinkish cheeks, heavy breathing, and disoriented state told him enough to make a deduction. They tell tales that are similar to those of a small Jack Hotchner after a venture in the rain or dry sweat over a fun visit to the park. 

 “You have a fever,” He informs you sternly.

 “No, I don’t.” Your nose crinkles, shaking his hands off yours and straightening up. The simple movement alone brings your head to spin, pushing you against the counter. You close your eyes, “M’kay, maybe I do.”

 Everything seems fuzzy, but you feel Hotch’s gentle hand over the small of your back, and you’re suddenly being led to one of the two couches in the jet, momentarily seeing a pouting Spencer Reid, woken up from his slumber as he mumbles to another seat.

 Hotch wraps his jacket around yours, squatting in front of you. "Honey, why don't you lay down? Get some shuteye." His voice is gentle in your ears. He squeezes your hand in his while the other brushes away loose strands off your burning face.

 “You okay, mama?” Derek turns from his seat, “Want some cocktail with that fun swirly straw you and Penelope love?” He jokes lightly in hopes that humor will lessen the throbbing in your head.

 “It’s not the time for jokes, Morgan. If you’d like to help, maybe stay quiet in your seat.”

 The entire jet shuts up.

 Emily and JJ’s low whispers halt as they shift their gaze from where Hotch blocks Derek’s view. Spencer tries his best to stifle his laugh, but Rossi only shakes his head.

 “She has a fever, Aaron. Not cancer. Let the lady sleep in peace.” Rossi interjects in defense of the team’s eye candy.

 Hotch ignores him, rolling his eyes. He maneuvers back to the kitchenette in search of some cloth and a bucket to fill with tepid water. 

 Derek settles back in his seat with a look of disbelief, “I thought I was dead for a second.” He mutters under his breath. “He’s gone full papa bear mode on her.”

 They watch as Hotch pulls heaven and hell in your favor. He makes tea. Even finds a can of soup from somewhere in the cabinets, wondering why none of them has ever seen that before. He goes back and forth, placing a cloth over your forehead.

 His goal is to get you out of feverish delirium by the time the jet lands back in Quantico. And Hotch is quite the mission-oriented guy.

 "Aaron..." You mumble almost unheard if only everyone isn't eavesdropping.

 "You need something, hon?" He gently blots the cloth over your face. His sleeves are rolled past his elbows, and a rivulet of sweat is over his temple from all the movement he's made in the past ten minutes.

 "Stop fussing and let me sleep, hmm? Go drink some scotch with Dave or something." You shoo him with one hand and steal the cloth from him with the other.

 Hotch shakes his head as if your eyes haven't been shut tight for a while now, prying the cloth off your hand. "Come on, now, sweetheart. I can't just leave you alone." He coos, successfully repossessing the damp fabric.

 It takes a toll on your body when you sit up, yanking the small towel a second time from his grasp, more aggressive this time.

 "Hey, be careful—"

 You raise a hand to shut him up, "Aaron Hotchner. Take a break, or I swear you won't have a bed to sleep in when we get home." You huff, willing your facial muscles to look as intimidating as you possibly can at your state. "And Jack will not side on you. We both know I'm his favorite. So get." You point at Rossi's direction.

 He sighs in defeat, leaving a kiss on the crown of your head. "Fine. But tell me when you need something—"

 "Start walking, Aaron," You shake your head, giving him a stern look.

 The unit chief trudges to the seat next to Rossi, where the older agents offer a glass. Before Hotch can even decline, you voice rings in the jet.

 "You better take that glass."

 He rolls his eyes, but does as you say.

 Everyone fights their will not to burst into laughter, or they just might get pushed off the jet.

hotch masterlist | masterlist

[tealfloyd]

ANONYMOUS REQUESTED:

"Okay, okay! Hear me out on this: An MC who gifts every boy and the staff (minus Crowley) a specially made gift (alongside chocolate ofc) for Valentine's Day. For example, Riddle gets a bouquet of roses alongside heart-shaped chocolate, Ace getting a chocolate cherry pie and a watch, and Cater gets a skateboard and spicy chocolate.

I can just imagine the chaos that will ensue.

"Hey! Your chocolate is bigger than mine!"

"No fair! I wanted that too!"

Thank you and have a great day!"

AN UNTYPICAL VALENTINE’S

“Congratulations, MC. You have now become the Santa of Valentine’s Day!”

SUMMARY: It's Valentine's Day in Twisted Wonderland, and you already know what that means: a mix of chocolates and petty discussions~! (Everyone x Fem!Reader)

WARNINGS: None... Other than MC’s empty wallet.

CONTENT: Ortho doesn’t have a section, but his reaction is described in the introduction. Me trying to understand these boys and their past, so they might seem a little ooc. Also Lilia’s part may have end up a little too philosophical. 

A/N: Okay okay. I know Valentine’s was five months ago, and that I was in an unexpected hiatus for more than six months, but I just really wanted to post this because this draft was eating me alive. Also, I don’t know why, but Pomefiore’s part was so difficult to write, and thus, I ended up giving up temporarily.

Annnd, I know that the request asked for the staff as well, but I didn’t want to make this longer than it already is, so I decided I will post it separately. Eventually.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this! :)

WORDS: 10K+

Ah, Valentine’s Day. A lively festivity that encompasses love and friendship, usually celebrated by those who want to demonstrate affection to the people they care about the most, being in a platonic or a romantic way.

Yet, that’s talking outside of Night Raven College, an academy that’s full of eccentric students, and so, on behalf of that eccentricity, things are a little bit different.

And it all starts with your protective and small companion, Grim.

You finished checking your bag for the last time before leaving, assuring that all the chocolates and gifts you packed were inside, afraid of forgetting any of them in the dorm.

“Sevens, how am I going to carry this...?” You murmured while staring at the huge sack that contained all of your presents, thinking that it resembled the bag that a certain character would only use every Christmas.

All you did was sigh, mentally preparing yourself to carry that seemingly heavy Santa bag.

Or at least that’s what you were going to do, until a sleepy voice stopped you from doing so, effectively getting your attention.

“Where are you going, henchman...?” Grim groggily asked, yawning as he rubbed his eyes. “And why do you have that bag...?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Grim’s drowsy expression as you approached him, scratching his head lightly. “You see, since today is Valentine’s, I wanted to make something special for our friends, so—” And before you could finish your sentence, an excited scream echoed from the old dorm, startling you both.

"Did someone say Valentine's?!" Conrad yelled, cheerfully floating around.

"This brings back so many great memories! I still remember all the chocolates I've received when I was alive. Such great days~" Brawley said, his mind consumed by memories from his past, all while wearing a nostalgic smile.

"Oh, what do we have here~?" Arthur asked, curiosity getting the best out of him as he picked some of the presents that were at the top. "Some gifts for your friends, perhaps~?" He teased, wiggling his eyebrows in a funny manner.

Letting out a soft chuckle while trying to calm Grim down—who was certainly not happy after the abrupt appearance—, you answered. “Indeed, it’s Valentine’s after all. Do they meet your expectations?” You jokingly asked, prompting a playful laughter from the trio of ghosts.

“I absolutely approve them, but I don’t know if those students will.”

“It's obvious they will! She even has personalized chocolates for all of them!”

“That’s true... I wonder how long it took you to prepare all of this.”

They commented, starting a light chat about the festivity, all laughing and having fun. However, in between the funny remarks and jokes, Grim had enough, whining in annoyance as his brain tried its best to understand what was happening.

“What are ya’ talking about?” He complained, turning to look at you with an angry expression. “Henchman! Explain this madness!”

“Well, Grim,” you started, trying to find the correct words to clarify the meaning of this holiday to him. “Valentine’s Day is—“ Although it seemed that you didn’t have to in the first place, seeing that you were once again interrupted by your strangely excited fellows.

“Oh!”, Brawley exclaimed. “Can we explain it?”

“Yeah, we’re the best people, er- Ghosts when it comes to Valentine’s,” Arthur enthusiastically stated.

“Can we make the explanation, MC?” Conrad asked, and since you didn’t want to ruin their happiness, you agreed.

“The floor is yours,” and with that cue, they stood in front of a confused Grim, who looked at you with slight fear and overall confusion.

It took you a few moments to realize that they took it quite literally as you listened to their old-styled song about the festivity, which maybe overused the word “love” in a romantic way... Yet, it was a detail that you didn’t pay much attention to, instead deciding to enjoy the show.

But someone that didn’t take this lightly was Grim, being that a certain sentence was starting to repeat in his mind over and over again: “A day when love stories start! Who would be the next one to take this important step~?”

He was so alarmed that he missed the part where they explained that it was also a day to share with friends, so the first thing that passed through his head was: “They’re tryin’ to steal my henchman! I cannot let that happen!” 

And so, a genius idea was born.

“I’ll go with you, henchman!” He suddenly exclaimed, taking you by surprise, frowning in response.

“Really?” You inquired, and so did the ghosts, adding themselves to the confusion train while raising an eyebrow.

“What? I’m just sayin’ I’m going with you!” Grim repeated, further confusing you four.

“Yes, I heard that, but why...?”

“Why not?” Your companion said, avoiding answering since he knew you were going to tease him about it, instead choosing to walk towards the front door.

“Why though…?” You questioned for the last time, eyeing him with suspicion as you made your way towards the door, picking the bag—that was, to your surprise, much lighter than you thought—in the process.

“We don’t have time for this! If we hurry, we can come back in time for dinner!”

Now that was the Grim you remembered, and even if you never thought that hearing that sentence would make you relieved your wallet isn’t pleased to hear this though, this time it certainly did.

“Okay, let’s go then,” you said, turning to your translucent companions—who still had their mouths wide open, very much resembling to a cartoon—to wave them goodbye.

“Goodbye, guys! We will see you later! The song was amazing, by the way!” Was the last thing you said before closing the door, snapping the ghosts out of their trance.

“Aw! She loved our song!” Was the first thing Conrad said, happy that you liked their performance, not noticing the strange looks he received from the other two.

“Is he just going to ignore the fact that Grim seemed suspiciously protective over MC?” Arthur asked, and Brawley shook his head, disagreeing with him.

“It’s not weird that Grim is protective over her, that’s like a world-known fact,” he paused for a second, as if trying to think of the results of your sincere actions. “I’m more intrigued by how those boys would react upon receiving such a lovely gift from their oblivious love interest.”

And that, my dear Brawley, is what are we going to witness today.

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, FIRST STOP: HEARTSLABYUL

Heartslabyul was your first dorm of choice, and that was because you knew everyone will be in the same place at the same time. It was supposed to be easy; go in and go out.

Yet, what was the first thing you heard when entering the dorm’s living room? Screams. Certainly one of the most welcoming sounds while stepping into a place that embraces the idea of discipline.

Seeing that the other students (or at least most of them) were minding their own business, you thought it was not that big of a deal. After greeting the ones that weren’t busy, you both walked over to the kitchen, encountering a not so peculiar scene: Riddle arguing with Ace.

"Guys?" You asked, eyebrow raised as you wondered what happened.

"Oh, Prefect!" Cater exclaimed, cheerfully approaching you. "Thanks for appearing! This situation was #stressingmeout," he commented, thankful for your presence.

"Prefect," Riddle said after coughing slightly, attempting to compose himself. "What brings you here?"

“Well, since I assume you already know what day it is, I thought it would be nice to gift you some chocolates,” you voiced, chuckled at the expressions of your friends as you gave them their respective presents, who were pretty much baffled to hear that. “Or maybe you don’t know, and the heart motifs everywhere are misleading.”

The ones that caught up the fastest were Trey and Cater what a surprise, promptly putting two and two together and realising the reason behind your sudden but cute action.

"Sevens, is it Valentine's already?" Trey questioned, placing a hand on his hat to cover his face due to the embarrassment.

"Are these for us~?" Cater excitedly asked, already pulling out his phone to document this moment. "They are totes cute! Thanks, Prefect!" He said, taking dozens of pictures of the little red box.

“Valentine’s...?” Deuce muttered, face turning pale after his brain clicked and realised what that meant. “I’m sorry, MC! I don’t have a present for you!” He quickly apologised, bowing before you.

"You don't have to give me anything, you know?" You assured, trying to ease his concern. "I just wanted to gift you all something as thanks for all your help and support, and for being my friends, of course."

And that is how you make the Heartslabyul (and pretty much anyone in NRC) students blush in mere seconds; if these guys weren’t blushing before, now they undoubtedly are.

"Yeah, yeah, enough of these speeches!" Grim chimed, wanting to move onto the next dorm already. "We don't have all day! Let's go, henchman!"

"Geez, what has got into you today?" You said, turning to the students to wave them goodbye. "I have to go now; I hope you liked the— Agh! Grim, stop pushing me!"

In an instant, the two of you departed, leaving behind five startled students who were speechless by the sudden turn of events.

Riddle’s heart-shaped chocolates match his new bouquet of red roses.

Riddle never had a Valentine’s Day celebration before. Mainly because his mom, being the main factor in his life, used to call the holiday a “disruptive event,” and so, he ended up thinking that Valentine’s was an unnecessary and dumb festivity. You can now assume he doesn't think that anymore. As everyone already guessed, this boy was red; in fact, if you inspected his face closely enough, you would notice that his cheeks were tinted with the same shade the flowers gifted to him had, which he used to cover his face. And don’t get me started when he saw the chocolates; he nearly dropped the box out of embarrassment, not believing that you were bold enough to give him heart-shaped chocolates... But it’s not like he’s complaining so please gift this boy more heart-shaped sweets.

Trey’s hazelnut chocolates match his new set of heart measuring spoons.

Trey doesn’t know how he could’ve possibly forgotten about Valentine’s; his family owns a bakery, by the Sevens! He must’ve had the date imprinted on his mind by now! He's just wondering how he didn't think about it before while looking at the gifts, feeling a bit guilty that he didn't have anything for you. Although... That doesn't mean he wouldn't focus on your kind-hearted present, after all, who could after receiving such a detailed gift of your dear romantic interest friend? Immediately after this, he knows that he has to make something for you as well; something to remind you how special you are. Hence, why his mind is in a whirlwind of ideas, contemplating which chocolate would best match your taste, and what’s better, he can use that cute set of spoons you just gifted him.

Cater’s spicy pumpkin chocolates match his new skateboard.

Cater was very aware that today was Valentine's Day. Like, it's Cater we're talking about. He literally spent the entire week thinking of gift ideas for a friend crush in order to find the perfect one for you. He just wasn't expecting for you to pull an uno reverse card on him, or at least not before he gave you your gift. Less to say that he was over the moon with this action; he already had a new wallpaper and ten new posts featuring his new possessions. He was so excited that he forgot he had something for you, and by the time he remembered you were already gone. He figures out he can drop by Ramshackle later, but it didn't take long for him to realise that everyone would have the same idea. Oh well, what a perfect occasion to have a new skateboard~.

Ace’s chocolate-covered cherries match his new frog watch.

Ace has never been a big fan of Valentine's. After breaking up with his first girlfriend, he ended up disliking the romantic idea of the holiday. Though that didn't mean that he didn't like the presents and the chocolates, which he would sometimes receive. He used to feel confident when receiving those, yet he didn't give them too much importance, so he doesn't understand why he was blushing over some chocolate-covered cherries and a stupid frog watch. Like, are you mocking him, MC? Do you really think that he would use such a dumb thing? He definitely doesn't think that this is so cute coming from you, and he definitely is not going to use that watch everyday spoiler alert, he is definitely going to.

Deuce’s cinnamon flavored chocolate eggs match his chicken plushie.

Deuce isn't very versed when it comes to Valentine's. He did celebrate it with his mom, but that was literally it. The only times he received chocolates and other gifts were from anonymous letters, but he thought it was a joke, so he never tried to find the author (which ended up being a girl that had a huge crush on him). Hence why this boy is worried. He definitely appreciates you and your gifts, because it’s not every day that you get a Valentine’s gift from your crush! Like, what is he supposed to give you (even though you said it was fine) after you took the time and effort to elaborate such a wholesome gift? He ends up worrying so much about it that the chocolate has probably melted by now. But don’t worry, his plushie is still safe and sound!

You may be thinking that “they ended up living happy forever after,” right? No. That’s not how Heartslabyul works.

"Hey! Why is your chocolate bigger than mine?!"

"How is that my fault...? Hey! Stop trying to steal my chocolates!"

"There's no need to fight. I'm sure that the Prefect made sure to make everyone's chocolates equally."

"Yeah! You should worry about what to gift her instead~"

“I will take my leave then. You're free to come with me to try to find something that she would like.”

"Why did that sound so condescending...?"

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, SECOND STOP: SAVANACLAW

Savanaclaw’s was the second dorm you entered, and even if you loved the dorm, you weren’t sure how your chocolates were going to handle its weather because, surprise surprise: heat and chocolates do not go well together. Unless they like melted chocolate.

The situation didn’t seem to go any better, as you didn’t know where could the Savanaclaw students be. Well, all of them except for Leona, who was comfortably sleeping on the living room’s couch.

“Maybe we should find the others first. I don’t want to wake—” You commented, being abruptly interrupted by Grim and his yells, sighing upon the situation. “—Him up.”

"Hey, sleeping beauty! Wake up!" Your companion shouted, about to jump on his stomach before you grabbed him, keeping Grim from doing anything he might regret.

“Why are you being so goddamn loud...?” Leona grumbled, groggily standing up with a scowl on his face due to the sudden awakening. Looking at Grim, fully aware that he was the nuisance that interrupted his sleep, he sent him a threatening stare.

Before Grim could reply (or try to, at the very least), you stopped him from doing so, further explaining why you were in the dorm to begin with.

"I'm sorry, Leona. I'm sure it wasn't Grim's intention to wake you up in such a rude way," you stated, briefly glaring at the pouting creature.

"That's not true! And don't think that you've scared the great Grim! I—" Deciding that it was enough, you started to scratch behind his ear, sending an apologetic smile to the dorm leader in front of you, who seemed to be a little annoyed jealous of this action.

"I brought Valentine's presents for all of you," you answered, momentarily shocking the lion for a few seconds before his lips erupted into a smirk.

"Valentine's, huh?" He remarked, stepping closer towards you. "Then I guess today's the perfect day to—"

And just like we saw before (and will continue to see), Leona was interrupted, because students at this college apparently don’t like when people are about to finish their sentences.

Ruggie and Jack weren't far away from where you three were. In fact, both of them were preparing their meals before they heard your voice coming from the living room.

And when they decided to check, what's the first thing they see upon exiting the kitchen? His dorm leader shamelessly flirting with you at a really close distance while you carried a sleepy Grim.

"What do we have here~?" Ruggie chimed, walking towards your side so he could be near you. "What can we do for you, Prefect~?" He asked, ignoring Leona's death stare.

"And why did you bring such a large bag?" Jack questioned, making the two beastmen suddenly notice the heavy bag you were carrying on your shoulders.

"Glad you asked, Jack," you replied, looking through your bag’s different contents until you finally reached the ones that were labelled after them. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

Immediately following your statement, you presented them with their respective gifts, easily recognizable by the distinct yellow hue of the packaging.

The beastmen’s cheeks were slowly turning into a bright red after receiving the present, treating the little package like the most precious thing on earth, which was true, at least in their eyes.

"Are these… For us…?" Ruggie hesitated, unsure of how he should react.

"Duh! Didn't you just hear her?!" Grim said, annoyance showing in his voice.

"You're just jealous you didn't get anything," Leona guessed, smirking upon seeing how irked he got by that teasing comment.

"I'm sorry, MC, but I don't have anything for you," Jack apologised, and before he could even think of bowing before you, you stopped him.

"You don't have to give me anything. As long as you like the present, I have nothing to worry about," you explained with a small smile, starting to walk towards the exit. "Unfortunately, I can't stay for much longer. So, I guess I will see you later!" 

And with that, you managed to leave just before your fluffy companion started to complain.

Leona’s smoked dark chocolates match his new lion pendant.

Leona isn’t that used to celebrating holidays, and Valentine’s wasn’t the exception. He would sometimes receive large amounts of gifts, ranging from expensive jewelry to different sets of clothing; things that he would just leave unused and forgotten. But your gift is a different story. You can be sure this man is going to use that necklace until he dies. He’s not going to entertain the possibility of it going missing in the depths of his bedroom, already frowning at the imaginary scenario of looking at your sad face while you ask where his gift was. He even clicks his tongue in annoyance, putting on the pendant to make sure it wasn’t going anywhere. Let’s see how fast you catch on this one, herbivore.

Ruggie’s mini donuts covered in chocolate match his new handmade bracelet.

Ruggie hasn't received, nor gifted a Valentine's gift ever. Holiday presents were (and still are) something that he deems as important and special. The only times when he did gift something to someone were during birthdays and as thanks, and vice versa. He’s not used to receiving presents outside those situations, and what’s even more surprising to him is that you were the one that brought the gift. Actually, no; what’s more surprising than that is that you don’t want anything in return, something that really caught him off guard. Less to say that he is going to be over-protecting those presents; this was something that you made for him and him only, and so it shall continue that way except the donuts, he can’t let them rot, can he?

Jack’s pear cider chocolates match his new snowboarding gloves. 

Jack has actually received quite a few Valentine’s gifts, but the thing is, just like Deuce, he still doesn’t know who the person behind those presents was. He never paid a lot of attention to it at the time, and so he continued with his life. Now he’s aware that he had to paid attention before. The one day that he doesn’t check the calendar ends up being Valentine’s Day; I can completely assure you that he’s setting up an alarm for the next one, also adding to the reminder some present ideas that say: “you’re my crush,” but don’t scream it. When you leave, he stands so still you can mistake him for a statue; if statues could wag their tail, of course.

Savanaclaw is savage what a shock, right? These boys would not even let the other one stand next to their present. Sevens, they wouldn’t even let them breathe next to their present.

"I feel sorry for you. That's really all the Herbivore got you?"

"At least I will make sure to use it. I wonder how long it will take before that pendant disappears."

"What did you say?"

"I guess I will see you later. I don't want to be a part of this."

"Hey, come back!"

"We haven't even started on your present!"

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, THIRD STOP: OCTAVINELLE

Octavinelle, as your following choice, felt like a secure place. You were almost sure you were going to find your friends in the blink of an eye, give them their gifts and head to the next dorm. Yet the variable you didn’t have into account was considering how empty and eerie the dorm appeared at first glance.

"Henchman?" Grim started.

"Yeah?" You answered, slowly walking towards the Mostro Lounge.

"Don't ya’ think there's something fishy going on today?"

"What do you mean?"

"Floyd and Jade aren't here."

And upon that remark, you stopped. Looking around to try to spot your usually welcome committee, you noted that Grim was correct. Jade and Floyd were nowhere to be found, slightly confusing you.

"Well, today must be a busy day at the Mostro Lounge. They are most likely working," you said, resuming your walk.

Although Grim didn’t seem to want to continue the walk, scared to be a victim of whatever evil scheme the eels were plotting.

You assured that you wouldn’t let anything happen to him on your guard, to which he responded by saying he didn’t need your protection, rambling about how you dared to think he wasn't strong enough to protect you— Ahem, to protect himself and you, until he suddenly stopped.

"Henchman," he started again.

"Yeah?" you answered a second time.

"I think there's someone behind us—"

Noticing two large shadows that covered yours, you both slowly turned around, encountering two identical faces that looked down on you with a sly smile, vocalizing:

"Shrimpy~!"

"What a pleasant surprise to see you here, Prefect."

Grim let out a high-pitched scream, hiding behind your legs due to the shock, unaware of the death stare that Floyd directed at him.

"Ah, Jade, Floyd. We were just talking about you," you said, sighing in relief upon listening to their characteristic voices.

"Wah~! Did you hear that, Jade? Shrimpy was looking for me~" Floyd exclaimed, to which his twin only chuckled.

"I heard that she was looking for both of us, in fact," and before his brother could whine in response, Jade added. "Why would that be, Prefect?"

"Before I answer to that, do you know where Azul is?" you asked, looking behind them in hopes that the octomerman would appear.

"Azul? Oh, that's right," Jade let out a small smile. "He must be looking for us."

"Eh~? But I don't want to go back!" Floyd whined, thinking about what he could do to avoid going to work again. "Oh!" He exclaimed, an imaginary light bulb appearing over his head. "I can hide behind you, right, Shrimpy~?"

"You can try, but I don't think it would do much," you responded, and just when he was about to do it, you heard a yell coming from the end of the hallway.

"Jade! Floyd!" Azul screamed, walking over to where you were. "Do I need to remind you that you are still working? If you continue—"

"Hello, Azul," you greeted, seeing how the businessman yelped due to the surprise, unaware that you were behind Jade. "Great timing, I was about to look after you."

"Prefect!" He exclaimed, unconsciously tidying himself up, trying to distract you from his earlier action. "And why did you want to see me?" He stuttered, cheeks tinted of a light pink.

"I'm sure you already know what day is today, so I'm just going to give you these," you briefly explained, handing all of them their respective gifts and chocolates. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

"Valentine's...?" Floyd muttered, face brightening up due to the excitement. "Does this mean Shrimpy loves me~?" He boldly asked, trying to get a shy reaction out of you, all while Azul covered his face in embarrassment, making this scenario all the much more entertaining to Jade, who was lightly chucking.

Yet when all of this unfolded, you talked, saying something that took all three of them by surprise. “Of course, I love you all after all,” you replied with a bright and contagious smile; it was at that moment that Grim realised that if he didn't do anything about this soon, they wouldn't let you go, and he can't let that happen.

"Henchman! We have to get going! Is gonna take us forever to finish if we stay here!" 

You sighed at Grim’s impatient behavior, not really understanding where it was coming from. But he was right; your chocolates weren’t going to last a whole day outside, they just weren’t made for that kind of purpose.

"As you see, me and my new guardian have to get going, so I will see you later," you joked, being weakly dragged by your companion, biding them farewell (hoping that Floyd wasn’t going to carry you like a sack of potatoes, again).

Azul’s blueberry flavoured chocolate coins match his new octopus coin.

Azul didn't really care about Valentine's (and no, it’s not because he was made fun of constantly during this day, why would you think that? It was, please give this boy lots of hugs and support); the only reason keeps track of it is that he knows it's a very profitable holiday. And I said "didn't" because that was before he realised that he had a crush on you... Okay, maybe Jade made him aware, but he still realised it. He spent the last couple of months planning the perfect plan to confess to you or at least try to, but this wasn't on his schedule. He marked this situation as "very improbable," hence why he looks like he has a fever. Furthermore, he tries to dissimulate it since he doesn't want the twins to make fun of him (again), but it's too late. A flustered Azul is always going to be interesting to witness.

Jade’s chocolate shaped mushrooms (like the Meiji Kinoko Chocolate), match his new decorations for his terrariums.

Jade is sort of neutral about Valentine's. He's not one that usually gives gifts (he definitely gave Floyd some mushrooms as a Valentine’s gift, and you can tell he was not happy about it), but he has definitely received a couple of presents, which he usually doesn’t keep unless they're interesting enough. But, if he's being honest, he wouldn't throw away anything that you gift to him; most people would call it "simping", he calls it "courtesy." His first reaction is to smile upon receiving it, yet unlike most of his mannerisms (which he keeps very controlled), this was something that to the untrained eye would go unnoticed, yet his twin and his boss childhood friend know that there's a hint of genuine happiness in it.

Floyd’s sea salt caramel lego-shaped chocolates match his new eel bracelet with his name on it.

Unlike his brother, Floyd thinks Valentine's is a very interesting holiday. He considers it the “funniest” day just because he finds the rejected Valentine’s faces so amusing. One thing he has in common with Jade though, is that he doesn't keep most of the presents given to him, especially if he can't see the reaction of the person. So, to meet his expectations you have to: one, give it to him directly, and two, wait for the best. Fortunately, we're talking about you, so that’s good news for you. Although the bad news is that you only have two options now that you’ve given him something: run or face his clinginess. 

If you didn’t know who these students were, you wouldn’t be amused, but if you do, well, it certainly was strange seeing all three (especially Floyd) staying idle in the middle of the hallway just... Existing.

"Why are you standing there? Go back to work."

"Aren't you going with us, boss?"

"Yeah! That's really unfair!"

"I have some important things that I have to take care of."

"Really? How strange, I remember you said that you had some paperwork to do."

"Oh~ Jade caught you lying, Azul~"

"Just go back to work, and don't even think about following me."

"Do you want to follow him, Jade~?"

"Of course, Floyd."

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, FOURTH STOP: SCARABIA

Since Scarabia was your next stop, you were a bit worried. Mainly because Scarabia’s weather, just like Savanaclaw, wasn’t the ideal for your chocolates to be in. Yet, something that kept your hopes high was your positivism, assuring yourself (in order to not panic) that you were going to find your friends rapidly.

"Henchman, don't ya' think we should hurry? I don't think those chocolates can stand this heat."

"I know, it’s starting to worry me," you responded, face changing from concern to determination. "But I think I know where they could be."

Grim tilted his head, as if asking: "What do you mean?"

"I called Kalim earlier to ask him about his and Jamil's plans. They don't stay in one place for long, so it was only to be sure."

"And where are they then?"

"Right here," you stated, standing in front of a big door: the one that contained all of Kalim's treasures.

You grabbed the handle, ready to open it when suddenly, the door pulled towards you. It collided with your forehead, making you lose your balance slightly, trying to not fall since it could make it worse.

"Prefect!" The Scarabia students exclaimed, worried and confused about what just happened. "Are you okay?!"

"It's okay, I'm okay," you reassured them, holding your head as a reflexive reaction.

"Henchman! Can you hear me?!" Grim yelled, making you wince slightly due to the headache. "How dare ya', pesky humans! She could have died!"

"I'm so sorry, Prefect! Do you need to go to the infirmary? Jamil and I can bring you there!" Kalim exclaimed; eyes full of concern out of fear of something severe happening to you.

"Don't worry, Kalim. I know it was an accident," you said, feeling much better now that they were starting to quiet down. “I’m sure it’s not going to leave a scar or something.”

"Prefect, are you completely sure? We don't have any problem accompanying you to the nurse," Jamil suggested, but you refused.

"Guys, seriously, I'm fine," you said, crouching down, so you could look for their gifts. "Now onto the thing I wanted to talk about..." You handed them the presents and chocolates. "Happy Valentine's."

"Valentine's...?" Kalim asked, thinking about something for a moment before an imaginary light bulb appeared over his head. "Oh, that's right! We also have a present for you as well! Right, Jamil?"

Jamil didn't answer, seemingly lost for a few seconds until he snapped out of his trance. "Yeah, that's right," he answered, murmuring a little "thanks," loud enough for you to hear.

"It's nothing. I hope you like it, I tried to make them the best I could."

Before they could show you your gift, Grim had enough of this and decided that it was time to move on, practically dragging you outside Scarabia.

"Goodbye guys, maybe we can see each other later— Grim! Stop pulling me! I only have this pair of pants!"

Kalim and Jamil may be very different, but if they had one thing in common as of right now is that they were completely happy to receive such a heartfelt gift.

Kalim’s coconut chocolates match his new friendship bracelet.

Kalim has definitely received plenty of Valentine's chocolates and gifts in equal amounts, even if most of them came from his parents and his thirty siblings. All of this made Kalim believe that celebrating Valentine’s like that was very normal to be honest, it’s more of a lovely Halloween than most things, but that’s fine, it’s Kalim; at least, the platonic side of it. This could explain why it felt kind of odd when he received your gift, but don’t worry! It’s a good type of odd. He knows that he has a crush on you Jamil’s courtesy, so this gave him the slight hope that you might see him more than a friend one day. And even if not, he’s totally okay with it, since he will still be able of being your friend.

Jamil’s chili pepper chocolates match his new talking parrot plushie.

Jamil isn’t very fond of Valentine’s. It is not a surprise that he didn’t receive as many gifts as Kalim, but he never showed his discomfort to not anger his family; after all, he already knew that he just wasn’t made to give and receive something like that, or at least, that was his mentality until you and your adorable present came into the picture. He just thinks you’re a box full of surprises He had absolutely no idea that he was going to fall for you, but just like he never expected to like you, you surprised him with a gift. You gifted him something. MC, let me tell you that if he wasn’t head over heels for you, he now is.

Scarabia is by far the most normal one out the seven dorms. They’re happy, and that’s all. The difference is that one of them shows it and the other doesn’t.

“Did you see that, Jamil?! She said she made them herself!”

“Yes, Kalim, I heard it. You don’t have to yell”

“Oh, right, sorry!”

“...”

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, FIFTH STOP: POMEFIORE

Pomefiore, being the next one on your list, gave you hope. Hope that maybe your original plan will work, and that you would be able to leave quickly enough to continue the rest of your long journey.

But, as you already may have guessed, things can’t be that simple.

“How strange...” You muttered, walking away from the common room after finding it empty. “Where could they be?”

“Nyah! It’s gonna take us forever to find them!” Grim whined, already tired from all the searching. “Can’t we just leave the gifts at their doors?”

“I’m not going to do that, Grim,” you stated, intently searching for your friends. “The whole point of this was to hand them the presents personally, even if it takes me the whole day.” Believe me, MC. It is going to take you the whole day.

“But we can’t just expect them to appear out of nowhere!” He claimed, unaware of the towering figures that stood right behind him after voicing those words.

“Yes, that seems certainly impossible,” Vil said, scaring Grim to the point where he climbed to your arms, hissing at the student. “Oh, did I scare you?” He teased, a bit more playful than usual.

“For your information, ya’ didn’t scare me!” Your companion quickly retorted, and although he tried to come up with an excuse to fight back, you stepped in to prevent a petty argument—certainly a wise decision—.

“So, before Grim can start a discussion here, in the middle of the hallway. Again,” you called out, eyeing him, trying to make him understand the hint. “I would like to give you these.”

“Are these... Gifts?” Epel asked, unsure of why the sudden display of affection. “Why are ya’ giving us this...?”

“Epel, don’t be disrespectful,” Vil corrected, sighing upon seeing that his little apprentice apparently didn’t know what day it was. 

“You see, Monsieur Crabapple. Today is the magnifique holiday called Valentine’s Day!” Rook briefly clarified, proceeding to deliver a monologue embellished with fancy words, listing all the wonderful things that Valentine’s entailed. “How wonderful out of you, dear Trickster, to grace us with these detailed presents!”

The hunter approached you, taking your hands in his as he gazed into your eyes, seemingly aware of the looks he was receiving from his housewarden and dorm fellow.

It wasn’t until Vil coughed that Rook stopped, only chuckling slightly while leaving your hand, not wanting to infuriate his beautiful friend.

“They do seem very elaborate. So, I’m grateful for this present, dear potato,” he thanked, looking at Epel to remind him that he hadn’t thanked you yet.

“Oh! Thank you for these gifts, MC. I’m sorry that I don’t have anything to give you in return...” The boy apologized, making you sigh once again.

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” You commented, amused at your friend’s sincere words. “I’m not doing this in exchange for gifts. This is a gift to thank you all for being amazing friends.”

Ouch. Collective friend-zoning. That must’ve hurt.

“Yet, we do have presents for you, ma chérie,” Rook voiced, not wanting you to go before you received their display of affection.

“Indeed. We don’t have them here, but—”

“No!” Grim interrupted, having enough of the whole conversation. “Henchman, it’s getting late and, we still have lots of gifts to deliver!” He said, trying to convince you to get out of Pomefiore before Vil and Rook’s charms trapped you there.

You turned to the students, doing an apologetic bow before explaining. “I’m sorry, he’s right. I can’t stay for much longer. But I appreciate the intention, and I hope to see you later— Grim! Why are you so impatient?!”

“We have to keep moving! So say goodbye to them already!” The little creature demanded, threatening to rip the hem on your pants.

“Okay, okay! Goodbye, guys! Maybe we can meet later!” Was the last thing they heard you say before disappearing behind a corner with your protective monster-cat.

And so, surprised and with rosy cheeks that weren’t part of their makeup, they headed towards the— Oh, it seems like they don’t remember anymore... You’re giving people amnesia, MC.

Vil's chocolate-covered berries match his new bouquet of violets.

Vil has a long history with Valentine’s Day; specifically the gift part of Valentine’s. This man right here has received countless gifts and cards from fans and people around him confessing their love in extravagant—and sometimes expensive—ways. He’s used to this by this point, but his balance point was broken the moment you decided to hand him that present. Dear potato, have you ever thought about being the partner of a renowned celebrity? No...? Well, would you like to? Because Vil takes this detail as your way of expressing your fondness for him. Sure, you said it was because he’s an ‘amazing friend’ (which he obviously is), but that doesn’t mean you can’t see him as more than a friend. After all, Vil’s patience is truly one of his virtues just don’t tell him you have a gift for Neige. You know, only if you want him to live a bit longer.

Rook’s mint chocolates match his new poetry book.

Oh dear, when I say no one at Night Raven College loves Valentine’s as much as Rook does, I’m being completely serious. We’re talking about a holiday that’s all about expressing love, and taking into account that Rook calls himself “le chasseur d’amore...” There’s not much left to piece together, is it. He is mesmerized by this gift; it doesn’t matter if you said it was to appreciate his friendship, he’s focusing on the fact that you, kind and wholehearted you, seemed to put so much effort to make this present that was for him and him only. Oh, beautiful Trickster; I hope you are prepared, for this dedicated hunter is going to be next at your feet expressing his admiration and appreciation for you in a very... ‘Rook manner,’ for the next couple of days... Or weeks. Maybe months, but it’s not like he didn’t do that from before, so that’s fine.

Epel’s chocolate-dipped apple rings match his new apple plushie (with an evil smile, may I add)

Epel isn’t really involved in Valentine’s. His experience with it consists of him occasionally receiving some gifts from his family and carving out some apples with Valentine’s elements on them. Being the only young boy in a village full of elderly people, we can assume that he never really got into touch with the romantic part of the holiday; at least, not until now. And I have to congratulate you, MC; you just made Epel’s face resemble an apple, and all because of your thoughtfulness. Now, does he think that having plushies is manly? No. But will he put your gift aside because of this? No. Not only because it will make you sad, but also because he assumes it wouldn’t be so bad to have an evil apple plushie in his room. You know, at least it’s evil, and that makes it a bit more manly. Sevens Epel, a manly apple-?

Pomefiore are just turning on the passive-aggressive mode. Nothing can stop these boys from feeling superior just because they received a personalized gift (which everyone got, but let’s not ruin their fantasy).

“Isn’t our belle Trickster so endearing. To take her precious time by making all of us these detailed gifts; ah, what a beautiful way to celebrate Valentine’s!”

“Although yours doesn’t seem that detailed, Rook. Are ya’ happy with that pocket diary?”

“I could ask the same to you, Epel. Although I may say that plushie compliments you.”

“Quit that, please...”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Monsieur Crabapple! The magnifique shade of this plushie truly enhances your beauty!”

“I’m not going to ask you anything from today onwards...”

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, SIXTH STOP: IGNIHYDE

Ignihyde had to be the easier dorm to “infiltrate” so far. The housewarden was known for being a programming genius, but also, and most important of all, for staying in his room.

It was a fool-proof plan. Entering Ignihyde, encountering Ortho along the way, and finally, greet Idia at his bedroom Nothing could go wrong.

And this may surprise you, but contrary to all the things that happened to you today, nothing went wrong. In fact, the list of events I just spelled did happen in that order.

After entering Ignihyde, you were greeted with the usual sight of an almost empty living room, saluting the few students that weren’t occupied with winning an intense game of Animal Crossing.

Subsequent to the first stage of your plan, you encountered the youngest Shroud brother while walking towards the oldest, seeing his cheerful face approach you with a welcoming voice.

“Hello, MC! What brings you here today?” Ortho said, instantly noting the large bag behind your bag. “And why are you carrying that bag? Are my brother and you going to study today?”

You giggled at his comment, shaking your head in refusal. “Not exactly. I’m here to gift Idia a Valentine’s present.” You explained, followed by asking if he was in his room.

Ortho stayed silent for a couple seconds, quickly searching for the holiday you just mentioned, and when he knew what it was about... Let’s just say that his expectations of you confessing to Idia (because honestly, at this point he knows his brother isn’t going to, for now, at least) were rising like the sky-high.

“Of course! My brother will be very happy to see you and to receive your awesome present, MC!” The little one answered, taking you by your hand to guide you to Idia’s room.

As soon as he arrived, Ortho knocked on the door, patiently waiting for his brother’s response.

“What is it, Ortho?” Idia asked, lazily opening the door, thinking that Ortho had come up with another plan to hang out with you. Jokes on him, no plan was needed, as you were right in front of him, a wide smile plastered over your face. “MC—!” He blurted out, surprised to see you.

“Hello, Idia,” you exclaimed, assuming that it would be best if you explained the meaning behind your visit. “I know you may be busy, and I don’t intend to take much of your time. I just wanted to give you this,” and thus you gifted the blue haired boy a small blue box, alongside a translucent bag of chocolates.

“Huh...? W-why are you giving me this...?” The boy questioned, only to be smacked with a reality check by remembering all the special side quests he completed regarding the love and friendship’s special day. “Oh. OH—”

In the blink of an eye his hair goes from blue to a bright pink, not giving you enough time to comment about it since he shuts the door just as fast, too embarrassed to pronounce a word other than a small: “thank you.”

“Brother! Are you okay? Your heart rate is going extremely fast!” Ortho voiced, not really helping Idia’s situation don’t tell him that, he’ll get sad.

“Don’t worry, Ortho. I’m pretty sure Idia’s okay. He must’ve been taken aback, that’s all.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely fine and we should definitely go to deliver these last presents,” Grim suggested, already making his way back to the mirror chamber.

“Not so fast, Grim. I have yet to give Ortho his gift.” The mentioned raised an eyebrow, certainly not expecting that.

“A gift? For me?” He uttered while moving his head to the side in curiosity.

“Yeah, for you,” you reiterated, handing him a little box—no chocolates this time because, well, he’s a robot—. “I hope you like it. You can place them wherever you want, and they also got little chains in case you want to bring them with you.”

He stares at the keychains, looking at the similar characteristics between him, his brother, Grim and you; and with a bright smiley face, he exclaims: “thank you, MC! I will make sure to take great care of these!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We have to keep going, if you don’t mind.”

“Goodbye, Ortho. And goodbye, Idia! Hope you like your present too!” You voiced, unsure if he heard you or not.

Oh, and indeed he heard you, it’s just that he’s a little too occupied trying to not die from cuteness overload— Never mind, he just short-circuited.

Idia’s peanut butter chocolates match his new videogame.

Taking into account his past, we can safely say that Idia didn’t really have a lot of experience with Valentine’s, aside from the games, that’s for sure. He never gave or received any chocolates nor gifts, and you know what? He was fine with that; just enjoying his games and not worrying about love and romance at least irl, because this man proclaims himself as an expert when it comes to ships in manga and video games. He was fine, and now he isn’t. His mind is flooded with too many questions, like: why on earth would you give him anything? Is it because of social etiquette or because you wanted to? How did you get your hands on this game? Should he take this as a sign to finally confess his undeniable crush on you—? Okay, he may have gone a little too far with that one. But don’t worry! He is going to do it, it’s just that it might take a bit of time. He’s absolutely going to gift you something back, don’t doubt it. But you may want to wait after the short-circuit passes.

VALENTINE’S DELIVERY, SEVENTH AND FINAL STOP: DIASOMNIA

Now, you knew that Diasomnia was going to be a tough one. Firstly, you were sure there was going to be a lot of shouting (Sebek’s courtesy), followed by Lilia, and possibly Malleus’ teasing. Silver was the only one that didn’t really do much apart from being the most normal being out of the four that’s a compliment, Silver. You make MC’s life a bit easier.

“Okay, Grim,” you started, happy upon seeing that this was the last location. “After this, we can go back to Ramshackle and eat the dinner you were so impatient for. Isn’t that exciting?”

No response.

“Well, I know you’re tired, but I have to thank you for accompanying me today. Even if you were a bit rude and odd, it really means a lot that—” 

“The Great Grim is going to fight all of you...!” He interrupted, mumbling incoherent things while you looked at his sleeping face, not sure when or how he fell asleep.

“I should have guessed that a whole day of walking may end up in this,” you muttered, carefully lifting him up so he could rest in your shoulders, trying to accommodate him the best you could as you made your way towards the Witch of Thorns’ dorm.

If felt strange having Grim by your side and not hearing him chit-chat with his characteristic tone, after all, it’s not like Grim and silence usually got along unless he was sleeping or reprimanded.

Feeling a bit bored, you started to hum softly, slowly strolling to find the garden, where you thought your friends might be.

It didn’t take long for you to encounter them, and they, likewise, didn’t take long to notice you were there. 

Malleus approached you first, a smile spreading across his face upon seeing you. “How delightful it is to see you, Child of Man. What brings you here today?” He asked, unsuspecting of the surprise you’ve prepared for all of them.

“Oh. Don’t tell me the rumors are true,” Lilia voiced, floating behind you to take a peek inside your bag. It seemed like him, unlike the rest of the dorm, was aware of your intentions.

“What rumors...?” You questioned, keeping him from grabbing one of the small boxes sitting at the bottom of the bag. 

He blinked in surprise, followed by a giggle after realising that you had no idea what was being said behind your back. “I wouldn’t like to ruin the surprise. It’s something you may want to express yourself, am I right?”

“Master Lilia! What do you mean by that?” Sebek shouted, prompting you to shush him quickly so Grim wouldn’t wake up. “You dare to quiet me down, human—!”

“Sebek,” Silver intervened, noticing the sleeping being on your shoulders, and thus he pointed it for the green haired boy to see.

“I’m sorry for shushing you, Sebek. It’s just that Grim is asleep and I don’t want to wake him up,” you apologized, hoping that your crocodile friend would try to lower his voice at least a little.

“O-okay, human. But—!” He paused briefly, trying to not raise his voice. “I’m not doing it because of your orders.”

You sighed, thankful for his thoughtfulness, even if he didn’t want to admit it. “Thank you, Sebek.”

Malleus coughed as he eyed his guardian’s red face, wanting to continue the original topic. “Say, Child of Man. You were about to tell us the meaning behind your visit.”

“Oh, that’s right,” you replied, cautiously taking the four remaining gifts to give them to the students. “I wanted to give you something as a Valentine’s Day present. So, I hope you like these details,” you stated, sighing after handing out the gifts, glad that this would be the last parade.

“My, my. I didn’t expect to receive a Valentine’s Day gift until a couple more of years,” Lilia muttered, seemingly happy to see his gift. 

Silver stood silently for a few seconds, quickly realising that he had to thank you, softly expressing his gratitude over your recent action.

Sebek felt in the obligation to ask the purpose of this unexpected act, but since he wasn’t able didn’t want to express it his usual way, he recurred to mumble a small ‘thank you,’ taking you by surprise.

And the last and most dramatic reaction of all had to be given to Malleus. Just as we’ve seen before, he tends to... Overreact a little when it comes to small details like this one; so, in truly dragon-fae fashion, he kneeled before you, took your hand and prepared to say the words he’s been wanting to say for a long time now.

Lilia, however, had to step in, immediately clarifying how Valentine’s Day is also a day express your love for your friends. Less to say that if Malleus had his dragon ears, they would be flopped down like a puppy.

“Well. It seems that your wonderful visit has brought new moments to reminisce about,” the old fae said, trying his best to ease the situation. “We are very grateful for what you’ve gifted us today.”

“I’m happy to see that you’ve liked them,” you voiced, chuckling a bit after witnessing their reactions. “And, although I can’t really stay for much longer, I enjoyed this moment with you.”

You were about to head out after biding them goodbye, only to be stopped by Malleus, who was still a little gloomy for the news he just received. “Do you really have to go now, Child of Man?”

“Unfortunately, I do. It’s already late and Grim might get mad at me if he finds out that he’s not at Ramshackle when he wakes up,” you calmly explained, softly caressing his cheek as you walked away, promising him that you would have more time to spend together tomorrow.

You better keep that promise, MC. Malleus is already too dejected to suffer another deception.

Malleus’ gelato truffles match his new gargoyle keychain.

Malleus’ knows what Valentine’s is, but his knowledge about it is limited to the romantic part of it. Hence why he is about to pursue you, ready to propose, again, and take you to his castle so that you can live a long and happy life together; until Lilia explained him the other side of the holiday, disappointing the dragon fae. Well, excuse him, Lilia, but how was he supposed to know that humans also celebrate their friendship during Valentine’s. He’s frustrated, but also enchanted  in a nutshell, he’s a mess right now. Yes, he’s still quite sad that this wasn’t a confession and that he may have to wait a bit of time before making a move on you, but nonetheless, you just expressed that you care and appreciate him, and that, at least for now, was enough for him.

Lilia’s green tea chocolates match his new bouquet of black and fuchsia roses.

Lilia has witnessed and experienced many Valentine’s days during his life. He probably has enough information to fill an entire encyclopedia about it, maybe including some of his stories as a bonus. Having lived for so long, Lilia finds enjoyment in how humans celebrate their holidays; and Valentine’s wasn’t the exception. He reminisces about his past lovers and confidants, basking in the subtle aroma of his recently acquired bouquet while thinking about all the memories he made along the way. This may sound like something an old man would say, but Lilia truly relishes in the fleeting moments that life graces him with; he most definitely takes delight in spending those moments with you, happy to see that you also enjoy his presence.

Silver’s cashew chocolates match his new deer plushie.

Silver’s pretty much indifferent towards Valentine’s. He doesn’t have time to celebrate these kinds of festivities when he has to make sure his young master isn’t in any danger. But he guesses that once a while won’t hurt... Malleus and Lilia are within his sight, Sebek is right next to him, and he doesn’t have the will to reject your gift. After all, who is he to decline such a selfless act? He gives you a warm smile as his cheeks turn into a slight shade of pink, uttering grateful words until he was too sleepy to continue the conversation. Just as he was slowly falling asleep, he unconsciously hugged his new stuffed plushie, unaware of the future teasing his father would carry out. Well, seeing the bright side of it though: he had an splendid nap and you had another sleeping beauty Silver picture. A win-win situation indeed.

Sebek’s lemon caramel chocolates match his new crocodile and dragon mug.

Sebek wasn’t and still isn’t fond of Valentine’s Day. In fact, he’s not fond of almost any of the holidays that you, mere humans, like to celebrate. However, even if he states that he doesn’t care about your gift and complaints about your display of affection towards his young master, Sebek ends up liking you a little bit more than usual. Don’t be mistaken, human! It’s not because of the cute action you just confer upon him, why would you even think that? He just thinks that a gift like this can be very useful, that’s all! He’s not smitten by your sweet smile, kind and thoughtful self, or the way your eyes shine when you’re happy... Wait, what was he saying? Oh, of course! He’s definitely not smitten by any of those things I just mentioned, so don’t you dare to think that after he gifts you your Valentine’s gift. What? It’s called being polite, you know?

Diasomnia might be the only dorm that doesn’t take down the gifts from the other students. Most likely because they were all a happy and beloved family... And also due to them thinking very highly of their presents. But is something that most people have done at this point, so the first part still stands.

“How come I didn’t know about this...”

“Oh, don’t worry, my prince! For the Prefect most certainly did this with love and effort for all of us!”

“It certainly seems that human put so much care into these...”

“What are you mumbling, Sebek?”

“N-nothing!”

“That’s right. If I gift Child of Man a present deserving of her, I can partake in this celebration with her.”

“What an enlivening idea! This makes the perfect occasion to try out that cookie recipe I got from Jade, kee hee~”

“Father, please don’t.”

INITIAL STOP: RAMSHACKLE

The wood of the door creaking was the only sound that could be heard upon returning to your dorm. Being accustomed to it, you didn’t think of it as you left Grim on the couch, sitting next to him while watching his peaceful face, far away in dreamland.

“Aww, isn’t he the cutest when he isn’t awake?” Brawley commented, appearing out of nowhere as he floated around the little creature.

“So, tell us, MC. How did you Valentine’s journey go?” Conrad asked, anticipating an answer that never came. “MC?”

When the ghosts turned to look at you, all they found was your sleeping form, who couldn’t resist the tiredness after a whole day of walking and searching.

“Poor thing. She must be so exhausted,” Arthur said, dragging a blanket to shield you from the cold weather. “I can’t believe she really took it upon herself to prepare all of those gifts.”

“Right? I haven’t seen anyone so determined to prepare so many boxes and chocolates without expecting something in return,” Brawley added, trying his best to sneak a pillow under your head.

“Well, she may not expect anything in return, but I’m almost completely sure those boys are going to return the favor,” Conrad voiced, placing Grim in a more comfortable spot close to you, careful to not wake him up.

After that, your ghost fellows decided to float around for a bit, talking amongst themselves to guess what the gifts your friends had for you might be, also questioning if they were also thinking of competing not only for your attention, but for your love as well.

THE END~

DON'T REPOST.

EVERY CHARACTER BELONGS TO DISNEY AND YANA TOBOSO, AND I DON'T TAKE CREDIT FOR THEM.

[railingsofsorrow]

we should just kiss, like real people do

[emily prentiss x reader]

summary: in which there was only one bed. . . pairing(s): emily prentiss x f!bau!reader w.c: 1.6K warnings/content: rivals to lovers; mostly fluff; understanding feelings; angst (if you notice); language; suggestive content near the end and cursing (making out) so I'm classifying this 15+ 

A/N: can you believe I have never written for the only one-bed trope? crazy. but anyway, this is my entry for @reiderwriter writing challenge "daydreams and shooting stars" (love this theme btw), and congrats on the 5k followers!! I chose the prompts "only one bed" and "enemies to lovers" with emily prentiss.

navi

masterpost 

cm masterlist 

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"Oh, you gotta be kidding me."

You frown, feet halting at the entrance of the room because your roommate can't move so you can enter and finally get some rest. You hated Derek. He usually pairs up with you whenever you need to share a room during a case but today Penelope has come along and you already knew you had lost your usual roommate for the night. You don't blame him, really. Or Penelope, they just have their... thing. 

But you do blame him for leaving you with the personification of annoyance: Emily Prentiss.

It's not that you hate her, you just don't really get along and you don't have to. You have to be coworkers and civil towards each other, which you do. But sleeping in the same room for an entire night? - Maybe more, because this case is proving to be very difficult to be wrapped up in just one day - That you’re not sure you can do without jumping out of a freaking window.

"Prentiss." You hiss, behind her in the hallway. "Can you move? I need a shower."

Emily steps away and when you enter, you understand why she had frozen by the door. You imagined it was a spider or any kind of bug but that's worse. Way worse. 

"You have to be kidding me. There's only one bed?"

Emily throws her go-bag on top of the mattress, already moving around the room as if she has decided her fate. 

"What are you doing?" You ask, eyes narrowed as she takes some clothes off her bag.

"Taking a shower?"

"No, you're not. I'm going first."

Emily shrugs, throwing a towel on her shoulder. "You're taking too long." 

"You're not taking the bed."

She offers you a menacing smile. "Yes, I am. I touched it first."

Your eyes widen in disbelief and you're one step away from throwing her out the window. "You touched it f- What are you, five?"

"The floor looks pretty comfortable."

Letting out a scoff you place your own go-bag on top of the bed. 

"Then you sleep on it."

Emily shots her a look and you hold her gaze in defiance. She looks away first and your lips stretch into a satisfied smile as she walks inside the bathroom. You contemplate going downstairs to ask for another room available, but you're curious to what her next step will be. 

Let's see who's sleeping on the floor tonight. I know it won't be me.

Your logic proves to be flawed when Emily has her limbs splattered out on the middle of the mattress, fingers typing away something on her phone distractedly. Your go-bag is on the floor beside hers and you raise a single brow in her direction, even if you're not sure she's aware you left the bathroom yet. 

"Prentiss."

She says your name in a hum, attention locked on her phone. 

You throw your wet towel in her direction, it lands right in her face. A laugh escapes you as she yelps, sitting up in surprise and yanking the wet towel from her face. 

Her dark eyes send you a glare that you're not affected by in the slightest. Except for the fact that she looks good with an annoyed face on- What? 

Oh, your brain is most definitely sleep deprived.

"Bed is mine. Move." You order, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing again as she throws your towel back at you. 

"Nope." Emily lays back down, earning a groan from you and you actually consider sleeping on the floor so you can pull her feet at night so hard that she falls out of bed. Then, she says something that has you rolling your eyes. "There's plenty of space here though."

"Great, more for me."

"I am not sleeping on the floor," Emily repeats, calmly, supporting herself on her elbows to have a better look at you. "So it's your call."

“You serious?” There's annoyance in your tone and a little bit of exhaustion. You're not in the mood to play games, you'd definitely entertain her if you weren't so tired. “Fine. You win.” Her brows shot up to her hairline. “Well? Scoot over.”

Her eyes are scrutinizing you and you give her a glare as you adjust on the bed, pulling the blanket over your legs. 

“Lost something?”

She shrugs. “Just thought you'd be one of those who can't bear the idea of sleeping in the same bed with someone else.” 

Your forehead creases as you lay down, lifting the blanket as you do it. “Why?”

“I don't know.” She shrugs again, but now you see a little smile on her lips. You feel yourself trying to stop your own lips from imitating hers. “You just give me the vibes.”

“The vibes?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Something about the way she keeps analysing you when you look away makes you feel self-conscious. 

“Do you hate me?” 

From how fast you turn your neck, you feel it snap as you twist, causing you to wince and sit down. 

“What? No!”

She smiles a little but it's contained. 

"Could have fooled me."

"Prentiss." You say with a look. "I don't hate you."

"Right," she hums, resting back down on the pillow, her dark strands spreading out around her head. "You just don't particularly like me?"

A sigh escapes your lips and you shift on your side of the bed. Why is she bringing this up now? Couldn't it be some other moment where the two of you aren't sharing a bed, extremely close to each other?

"You don't particularly like me either," you shot back, shrugging, pretending to be unbothered.

"That's not true." She says it fast, not thinking twice, a tinge of indignation in her tone that gets you almost laughing. "What? I don't!"

"Could have fooled me."

Emily's eyes narrow at you which earns you a little satisfaction at using her words against hers. When you turn to offer her a joke about how you've been treating each other over the past years you catch her staring at you, that same stare from before. You have no ideia what it means.

"What?" You ask in a whisper to not disturb the silence that has installed into the room. It is almost... peaceful. Which is an adjective that does not match when it's you and Emily in the same room.

“You're beautiful. Kind of.” 

And now you're sure you're leep deprived because why on earth would Emily Prentiss ever call you beautiful? She finds you annoying and boring and—

“You okay?” You're surprise to notice you're the one asking that. 

Emily lets out a scoff. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“You just called me beautiful and you hate me.”

“I do not hate you. You hate me.”

You nudge her with a playful shove, she's near the edge of the bed so the way your shove causes her body to waver, almost making her fall off the bed gets your eyes widening before you grip her elbow to pull her back. Emily ends up colliding with you with a yelp. Then, the most surprising — but weirdly endearing? — thing happens: she starts laughing. 

And her head falls on your shoulder while you're frozen trying not to move. You don't know why but your brain shortcuts at your proximity and the way the sound of her laughter enters your head like an enchanted melody.

Emily leans back slightly, her breath tickling your cheek as she speaks. Her tone sounds shaky but you can't be sure, you're trying too hard not to stare at her lips. “If you drop me off the bed,” she begins. “I'll take you with me.” 

Now she's the one staring down at your lips and you swallow hard nervously. 

“Then we'll both... uh.” Words. Use your words, do you know how to speak or the fact that a beautiful woman is staring at your lips makes it hard? “... we'll both fall off the bed. But you'll still fall first because... I'll be pushing you?” You don't why it gets out as a question. 

Emily's gaze locks into yours and your body shivers from head to toe.

“What would you hate me more if I kissed you right now?”

“Oh, for fuck's sake just do it.” 

That's the cue for her to press her lips against yours. Soft, gentle and warm. Your hands have a mind of her own as one of them grips the back of her neck to deepen the kiss, the result of years of yearning for a coworker you had convinced yourself hated you and that you hated too.

“I've wanted...” Emily drawls out, kissing down your jaw. “...to do that...” back to your lips “... for so long.” 

You hum into her mouth, smiling as she loops a hand around your waist. 

“I think we— we may have had a little bit of... miscommunication.”

She leans back to give you a look and you take advantage of the quick break to stare at her swollen lips. Courtesy of you. 

“You think?” Emily tease, thump running across your lower lip. “Will you stop calling me Prentiss now?”

“Isn’t that your name?” You chuckle at her scowl. 

It's safe to say she shuts you up with a kiss. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

taglist: @ninkieminjaj

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni

word count: 4k

summary: after finding him wounded in an empty alleyway, against your better judgment, you decide to patch him up in your apartment. you expect that to be the end of it, never to see him again, that is, until you do.

warnings: piv, rough sex, dirty talking, biting, claws make a brief appearance, mild degradation (he calls you slut once), mention of female masturbation

You live in a world without heroes. Yet, the villains roam free. 

You’re used to it by now, walking through the damp alleyways. You hear a shout here and there, always keeping your head bowed as you walk past whatever might be going on. Once upon a time, this bothered you. But after a knife to your stomach and a punch to the cheek, you learned to look the other way around, no matter how painful it might be. Sometimes you find yourself wondering why this might be. You always assumed some type of ying yang situation should be in place, making everything right, but you seem to be living in a world without good. Without light.  

You don’t know what prompts you to do it. You’re walking back from work, the scent of rain and the stench of exhaust thick in the air. All you want to do is get to your cramped apartment before the downpour. 

You think it’s the wind that makes you turn your head, you hate when your eyes water and dry out. When you do turn, you stare into the familiar abyss of the alleyway behind your apartment. It’s truly pitch black. Despite the darkness, you see a faint movement in shadows, a loud sound, a crash. You see a flash of red, blue. Your eyes narrow—what the? 

You know well that you shouldn’t, that whatever was lurking in the shadows would be bad news, but you do it anyway. With a grunt, you open the flashlight of your phone and take a step closer. There’s a man laying on the cold ground, he doesn’t seem to be moving. 

“Hello?” you call out. No answer. “Um, are you drunk or high? Should I call an ambulance?” 

The broad figure groans and your heart nearly lurches. “No,” he mumbles. “No doctors.” 

With a slight tremor in your step, you come closer. You shine the light into his face, his brows furrow, an annoyed scowl etching into his handsome features. Your lips part with a soft exhale. He’s so handsome. 

Then you get a good look at the rest of him—what the hell is he wearing? 

“Do you need help?” you ask, unsure. He doesn’t seem to be bleeding, his eye looks a bit swollen though. Wait, scratch that, you think you spot some blood on his lips. “Should I get you anything?” 

Maybe you sound foolish, but you know better than to just call 911 for a random person. Everyone is a criminal these days. Fuck, if he was a criminal you should call the cops, this city is seriously starting to cloud your better judgment. 

“No cops,” he chokes and coughs, as if he can read your thoughts. “Go away, I’ll be fine.” 

No, he won’t. 

He knows it. You know it. 

“I live right next door,” you answer against your better judgment. “I have a first aid kit. I can patch you up if you want? I don’t wanna brag, but I am a nurse in training.” 

He makes a sound that is similar to a chuckle but the sound quickly fades into a vicious cough. You tuck the phone into your pocket and lean over, “Alright big guy, you’re coming with me,” you attempt to throw his arm over your shoulder but that proves to be more difficult. “Can you stand? Even a little.”

He nods and straightens up a bit. You’re still carrying most of his weight but you manage to get him past the door and onto your couch. 

You must’ve thrown him a little too hard because he lets out a loud grunt, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle the sound. 

“Sorry,” you mutter. “Just wait for me here, I’ll come back with water and the first aid kit.” 

The man makes another sound. You’re starting to think this is his only form of communication. 

When you come back, he’s still where you left him. Albeit looking a bit more alert now, eyes constantly scanning your humble apartment. You can’t really blame him though, you would do the same thing. You eye him warily, then place the glass of water on the coffee table. He glares at it like it’s poison. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” 

He scoffs, “I don’t think you could even if you tried,” he answers, tongue moving over his bloody bottom lip. He points at the table. “And there’s a coaster right there.” 

“Who are you, my mother?” 

Despite your sharp tone, you place the glass on the coaster and sit on the coffee table, the small first aid kit in hand. “Does that thing have a zipper, or. . . ?” 

His right brow and lip cock up simultaneously. You’re acutely aware that no matter what you do, you’ll never be able to understand what’s going on in that head of his—Not that you want to. He’s a stranger. A man that looks strong enough to hold you by the neck before you can reach the pepper spray nestled in your bag. 

The silence makes you uneasy, and when you finally open your mouth to speak, he leans forward. “Don’t freak out,” he grunts. 

“Why would I freak out—” The rest of the sentence dies in your throat, his suit glitches—glitches—like a damn video game. It blinks once, twice and you swear you can see little particles glimmering on his skin, fading away from reality. Panic flaring in your gut, you look down. 

Pants still on. And here your thought that the entire thing was a one-piece suit. 

“I said don’t freak out,” he repeats, eyebrow raised and head tilted to the side. You snap your mouth shut. 

“I’m not freaking out,” you say, voice shrill. “Who’s freaking out? Not me.” 

His shoulders are broad, arms muscular with thick veins meandering down. You’ve never been a fan of veins popping out but whoever this man was made it look good. You swallow over and over in a weak attempt to wet the inside of your mouth. You fail helplessly. You’re not even aware that you’re holding the first aid kit with an iron grip, knuckles aching from the pressure. His torso is completely bare now.

“I don’t have a zipper,” he says unhelpfully, unaware of you behaving straight out of a 1950s cartoon. 

“I can see that.” 

God, he is the weirdest stray you ever brought over. 

He points at the box, “So do you actually know how to use what’s inside or were you just bluffing when you said you were a nurse?” 

“A nurse in training,” you quip. “And no, I wasn’t bluffing.” 

With great strength, you finally drag your eyes down his torso. There’s a splatter of blood, some of the drops rubbed into his skin and the crimson trail is followed up by a giant slash across his stomach. The bleeding had stopped which was a good sign. You lean closer, your fingers fiddling with the box at the same time, narrowing your gaze you notice the wound is deeper than you had initially thought. 

“Whoever it was that attacked you got you good,” you murmur. Without a second thought, you slide off the coffee table and kneel in front of him, you miss the glint in his eyes as he looks down, miss the way he spreads his legs so you can fit better. 

“How do you know it wasn’t me who attacked them?” 

The rough tone of his voice prompts you to look up. For someone who’s been stabbed, he’s eerily calm. His arms are spread over the backrest, chest slowly rising up and down as his eyes flit across your face, searching. The muscle in his jaw twitches, lips stretching into something resembling a snarl. Suddenly you’re hyper-aware of where you are, the position you’re in. The sound of danger rings in your ears—you don’t even know this man’s name. Your breath catches in your throat, stomach jumping. You don’t know why you initially felt so comfortable with him, as if you were long-lost friends, but you aren’t. You were being reckless. 

“Scared?” he asks, venomous, hunching over your frame, caging you in. Heat radiates from his thighs, a stark contrast to the cold fear gripping your insides. He hooks two fingers under your chin, lifts your head up. Your bottom lip quivers. “You should be. You live in a dangerous world.”

“And you don’t?” you counter, your voice barely above a whisper, your words hanging in the air, challenging his assertion. The question slips out before you can fully comprehend its weight, and you see his jaw tighten as he ponders for an answer.

You meticulously cleanse the wound, removing dirt and debris with steady hands. The sting of antiseptic fills the air, intermingling with the charged atmosphere. You’re not shy with the way you touch him, a simmering annoyance warming your gut. He can take it, you think applying further pressure. He doesn’t make a sound. 

The dim light of the room accentuates the harsh contours of his face, and his piercing gaze feels like it's cutting through your soul. You drag your teth against the smooth surface of the inside of your cheek. You’ve never had a patient stand this still. 

Finally, just as you complete the final wrap of the bandage, he gives you an answer. 

“Not the same one as you do.”

Miguel O’hara was his name. He told you just before disappearing into the neon lights of the dark and cold city. You didn’t think much of it, you were sure you wouldn’t be seeing him again, which meant remembering his name was useless.

But your mind wouldn’t let him go. You tasted his name in the dark hours of the night, hand between your legs, coming as you thought of scenarios where instead of dousing his wound in antiseptic, you took his cock into his mouth, helping him in a different way. His suit left little to the imagination and now that your imagination roamed free, you’re glad that it was. 

Convinced that he’ll never show up again, you continue on normally, half in fear due to the chaos around you, trying to do your best. 

That was until he did show up. 

You step out of the shower, water trickling down your skin, softened by the warm steam. The towel hangs loosely around your chest, on the verge of slipping off. You never quite mastered the art of securing it tightly, but living alone means you don't have to worry about walking around naked if it happens to fall off.

The window cracks open, cold air seeping through, chilling your freshly warmed body. Tension instantly builds in your body, your eyes slowly moving to the window. You see him then. Miguel. He pushes the window open and climbs in, not saying a word. You hold the towel tightly around you—a dream, you think, it has to be. 

With quick, large steps, he crowds your space, forcing your back against the wall. The air is knocked from your lungs, your throat convulsing with a sudden panic. He’s not touching you. 

“M-Miguel,” you whisper. “I didn’t—I didn’t think I would see you again.” 

“Neither did I,” he answers, large hands cupping your waist and pinning you to the wall. “I’m tired,” he adds, words dropping from his lips more like a punch than a plea. Like someone is squeezing the words out of him. 

“What do you need?” 

His eyes drop to your lips, a hungry gaze that sends shivers up your spine. You hold your breath. He’s so close, close enough that you feel his breath on your damp skin. He tilts his head to the side, eyes closing. 

“I need to not think,” he answers painfully slow, tasting every word. “I need to not feel. I need to not worry. I need to disappear for a while.” 

Miguel takes a long, languid breath. Filling his lungs with the scent of your watermelon body wash. His tongue pokes from between his lips, moving over the bottom one. “Can you give me that?” 

His fingers tighten, the soft fabric of your towel bunching in his palm, you swear you feel the bite of nails despite the fluffy exterior. Your eyes search his. You know nothing of him. Only his name that he’d begrudgingly given you. Your pulse quickens, the rush of blood loud in your ears. He’s not here for you, that’s something you need to keep in mind before going any further. He’s here for the release, for the simple act of having another’s warmth surrounding him. You’re an escape. Something simple and easy he doesn’t have to think about when he runs off to deal with whatever he deals with. 

After seconds that feel like hours, you decide you want to give that to him. You don’t mind the hurt you’ll feel after. Letting him take what he wants knowing that’ll affect you more than him. Something about him makes you not care. 

“I can,” you breathe, instinctively searching for his lips with your own. “Do your worst Miguel O’hara.” 

You drop the towel, damp fabric pooling at your ankles. His eyes widen briefly before smiling something wicked. His forehead touches yours, nose brushing your own as his lips ghost an inch away. Your breath catches in your throat, the need growing between your legs. A chuckle drops from his lips reminding you of gravel. You don’t share his humor, you just want to feel him. 

“You don’t want my worst,” he grunts. “You’ll break.” 

“I won’t.” 

He scoffs but doesn’t argue. Miguel doesn’t attempt to probe you wrong, breaking things is meant to have consequences. You either try to fix it or ponder over what you’ve done, he wants none of that. Instead, he presses flush against you, body firm in contrast with the soft swell of your chest and stomach. Your nipples tighten. He crashes into you, tongue hungrily slipping between your lips as his mouth moves greedily.  You feel hands on your chest, kneading, squeezing, pinching. You moan into his mouth, he swallows the sounds, grinding himself hard into you. You’re shaking, his body suffocating. 

“If I touch you,” he says into your mouth, fingers skimming the outside of your thighs. “Will you be soaked for me?”  With a whimper, you nod. He grins, canines looking sharper compared to what they did before, “Such a good little slut,” he growls. 

Contrary to what he’d said, he doesn’t slip his fingers between your legs to see if you’re telling the truth. Instead, he slots his thick thigh between your bare legs, pushing the muscle up until you’re left gasping, your hands flailing as you wrap them around his broad shoulders. The pressure makes you dizzy, the fabric of his suit softer than what you expected, a delicious friction over your aching clit. You moan openly into his neck, teeth scraping against the vein. 

“I’m going to fuck you like this,” he murmurs. “Up against the wall,” his suit fades away, cock hard against the soft planes of your stomach. You shudder as precome smears over the skin. He continues, licking your lips. “Then up against the window, want you to be loud. Want you to scream and tell me to take. . .” 

The emphasis on the “t” sends a million tiny needles biting into your skin. Your chest heaves with the brush of his lips, you want to feel it again, the plush feeling of faux softness on your mouth. But he doesn’t give you that. He smiles a cruel smile, one that chills your skin but lights a fire in the pit of your stomach. He tilts his head. 

“And take. . .” 

You chase his lips, he refuses to give you what you want. 

“And take. . .” 

Your frustration grows, a desperate sound twists through you, and your fingers curl around his neck, knitting through his hair as you give the curls a warning tug. He doesn’t seem to be affected in the slightest. He drags his lips down your neck, hitches your one thigh up his hip, and positions his length against you. He doesn’t look at you, nor say another word. He fills you with one hard thrust, knocking you back against the wall, your body sliding up the rough interior. The stretch of him lingers on the line of being painful. There’s a bite to it, but also a deep pleasure that makes your legs shake. 

“So fucking wet,” he rasps, sinking his teeth into your neck. It feels sharp enough that you think he breaks the skin, blood filling his mouth, but that’s not the case. The feeling quickly passes when his mouth crashes into yours in a messy kiss. He doesn’t wait for you to adjust, he doesn’t care. He takes what you give him and he does so violently, splitting you into two with every thrust. 

He grabs handfuls of your hips, lifting you off the wall before slamming you back down with renewed fervor. He angles each thrust to the point of almost pain. You cry out, a long, desperate noise that almost drowns out his own, panting gruffly. You can feel the heat in your veins coursing through you as pleasure builds, the almost unbearable sensation sending you into overload. Your toes curl, your nails dig into his skin as his name leaves your lips in a plea for him to not stop. His hands grip you tighter as his movements become more violent, eyes locked together as they both reach the brink of ecstasy. 

The look in his eyes, the furrow of his brows, the parting of his lips, the damp curls at the base of his scalp—it does something indescribable to you. You arch your back to give more for him. All your focus narrowing on the feeling of him. 

Suddenly your body strains as he stills, the thunderous rumbling of your orgasm hitting you full force as you feel yourself tighten around his shaft in an attempt to prolong the blissful pleasure. His grip slackens and you fall forward against him, boneless as you feel the last throes of your orgasm lingering in your veins. You lick the salt off his skin, your body grinding sloppily against him. 

“Fuck,” he hisses between gritted teeth, still achingly hard inside of you. “Already?” 

“I—I never came that quick before. . .” you answer with a slight slur of speech, you’re tingling all over. 

You’re not sure but you think you see a hint of pride in those dark smug eyes, “Don’t think you’re off the hook,” he says. “You’re mine until the sun comes up.” 

Miguel is a man of his word. 

He fucks you up against the window, just like he said. Your breasts pressed up against the cold smooth surface as he takes you from behind. It burns. It burns yet you can only beg for more. You scream his name, fog up the window, the rough drag of his cock forcing the roll of your eyes every goddamn time. The feeling of being stretched wide never passes, each thrust like the first time. 

He holds you by the nape, pushes you forward, the pressure only adding to the fire. You figure out soon he likes holding you like that. He enjoys shoving you up against things, adding to the idea that you’re just a fleeting moment and nothing more. When he pulls out you instinctively search for him with your hips. His cock lays heavy over the curve of your ass, he spreads you and presses his cock between the globes, rocking until thick ropes of come land on your back. You shudder, breathless, your vocabulary reduced to only his name. 

You feel a grip on your chin and he turns you enough so that he can slot his lips against yours. Your neck aches but your part for him anyway, allowing the taste of him to flood all your senses. When he parts only a string of saliva connects you, your breathing coming  in heavy pants. 

A second later the world around you blurs and you quickly find yourself straddling him above the bed. The old furniture creaking in protest. You forget how nervous you would be if it were someone else, how self-conscience you would be riding a man but Miguel doesn’t give you a chance to think about it. His feet planted firmly on the bedding, he snaps his hips, burying himself deep into the tight fist of your cunt, over and over, until you’re stupid for him. 

His name rips from your throat, you can’t even think of saying anything else. You attempt to muffle yourself with the back of your hand but he’s quick to yank it back down. 

“No” he utters a low, guttural sound, hands coming up your back. “I said I wanted you to scream.” 

He sounds unhinged, like something snapped inside of him. You feel teeth on your collarbone, nails dragging down your back, sharp, leaving long lines of irritated skin. A pleasurable pain blossoming over your skin. 

You begin to unravel as you thrust your hips against him, his movements setting off white-hot sparks of pleasure like incandescent lightning. Moans rush from your lips as his name is repeated in a mantra and you cling to him desperately, your hands clawing at his back and your nails digging into his skin as you spiral ever faster into oblivion.

Miguel is relentless in the way he drives into you. You can feel him swell inside you, every thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He moves his hands to your hips, pushing and grinding against you as every muscle in his body strains. 

His breathing is quick and harsh against your ear, his voice a hungry growl, “That’s it, take it. You were waiting for this, weren’t you? Hungry for a cock no matter who it belongs to.”  

You can’t answer. 

Miguel’s hips thrust harder, faster—his orgasm crashes through him, his hands gripping your hips painfully as he spills his hot seed deep within you. You find yourself trembling as aftershocks of pleasure ripple through you, your body feeling like electricity as you come down from the high. You clench tightly around him, your own overwhelming orgasm ripping through you, overstimulation making you cry out. 

He spins you both, bringing you to lay underneath him. Miguel collapses against you, breathing heavy as his grip on you slowly relaxes. He holds you for a moment, your heart thrumming as his forehead briefly rests against yours, breaths mingling. Then, with a satisfied groan, he pulls away. You let out a hiss. It feels achingly empty. 

You’re surprised when he starts pushing your legs apart, watching his spend trickling down your folds and making a mess on the sheets. He pushes globs of cum back into you with thick fingers. Your head falls, back arching into his touch. “You made such a mess,” he says, sounding almost transfixed. Cramming fingers inside of you and curling them, your body seizes. 

After that, you’re not sure when he leaves. Sleep takes you and when you wake, he’s gone. No note, no message left behind. The only evidence that he was here is the ache between your legs, and the taces of him still lingering on your thighs. 

You’re sure you won’t be seeing him again. He got what he came for. 

The next night he’s back, climbing through the window for more. 

[cordeliawhohung]

uhm enjoy this totally self indulgent hurt/comfort pornstar!gaz x reader where you fake an orgasm on set (:

Two hours isn’t an uncommon amount of time for a shoot. Even for the most experienced of actors, there are plenty of position changes, water breaks, and directions to be given that always bogs down film time in some capacity. You’re used to it. You’d been in that industry for years, so you know how to pass the time, especially when filming with Kyle. He always knows how to make you laugh, how to strike up a conversation as lights and camera angles are adjusted — it’s always nice with him. 

But something is different about today. It feels painfully long, like you’ve spent a majority of your day there rather than just a handful of hours. You’re more quiet than usual, and when Kyle attempts to strike up a conversation, your responses are just as empty as your eyes. A terrible glossiness has taken over their usual beautiful sheen, yet you still push through in all the obnoxious angles the director has you contort into in order to give the viewers the best visual possible. 

Kyle notices almost immediately. There’s something empty and numb in the way your body reacts to his touches. Your pretty moans sound dull when he pumps two thick fingers into you, and your brows don’t pinch together when he whispers in your ear. When he sinks his cock into your cunt after an overly drawn out foreplay period, you don’t flutter around him like you normally do. All your little tells — those delicious tells — have suddenly vanished off the face of the earth, leaving the studio feeling empty as he ruts into you. 

Really, you’re just glad your face is in the mattress while Kyle fucks you, because you don’t think you could look him in the eyes. Not when you’re feeling like that. It’s as if some void has taken up the space in your chest just for something rotten and vile to fester in the darkness. Nothing feels good. It doesn’t feel bad either, it’s just so far out of your reach you don’t even bother trying to chase it. 

You’re so… tired. Tired of filming, of being there in that fucking studio as people peer at you from behind cinema cameras and lights so bright you’re all but promised a migraine later. You just want it to be over; to go home and sleep until whatever that darkness is finally passes, so you do the unthinkable. 

You’ve never had to fake an orgasm with Kyle before. He always takes such good care of you, always is so attentive and in tune with your needs and desires, but you’ve done it so many times before with other actors that it’s easy. It’s easy to wrench your eyes shut as you force your thighs to tremble, and you moan and groan like a pathetic bitch in heat just how you know the viewers like. What makes it difficult is that Kyle’s pace slows, as if trying to gently fuck you through the orgasm that was never even on the crux of arriving. 

The moment he pulls out and tells the director he’s done for the day, you know you’ve fucked up. 

“Huh?” the director asks as if baffled. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” Kyle repeats. 

“We’ve got Viagra on hand if you need it,” the director says, trying to convince him to go longer. 

“I said that’s enough.” 

You bury your face further into the fresh linens at Kyle’s biting tone. You’ve never heard him sound so stern before; not the playful and teasing Kyle Garrick. It was enough to get the director to give in, and you hear a symphony of sighs echo throughout the room as everyone starts to tear the set down. Though all you wanted to do was go home, you couldn’t bring yourself out of the sheets. Maybe you didn’t really want to go home at all; just melt into the bed until there was nothing of you left. 

Plush fabric brushes against your back, causing you to jolt. Kyle smooths your robe over your body as he gently urges you to sit up so you can get your arms through the sleeves. 

“C’mon,” he quietly prompts, “let’s get cleaned up.” 

Once you are both properly wrapped in your robes, Kyle keeps an arm snug around your waist as he leads you into your dressing room. Usually the two of you go your separate ways once the cameras stop rolling, but he doesn’t this time. He closes and locks the door behind both of you as you mindlessly wander towards the counter. Pressure begins to build behind your eyes as white hot shame boils in your stomach, climbing up your chest and into your face. 

Kyle lets you run away for only a short moment before he’s crossing the distance between the door and the counter, hands ready to mend whatever is broken. You want to retract, to continue to hide away instead of facing the beast eating you from the inside out, but your fortitude breaks the moment his hands reach your shoulders. 

“Doll,” he says, voice so soft it’s as if he fears he’ll shatter you with words alone. “Where’s your head at?” 

You refuse to look at him, and instead your eyes keep glued to his chest as you keep your head lowered. The biting sting of tears builds in your eyes just as your bottom lip begins to tremble. It’s impossible to articulate the way bile eats at your esophagus just at the thought of trying to spill your guts to anyone, let alone Kyle. You try in vain to keep a straight face, but your sniffling has already given you away. 

“You know you don’t have to fake it with me, yeah? If you’re not into it, we can always stop,” Kyle then says. 

Wide eyes suddenly pierce through Kyle’s face as you look up at him, bewildered. “You could tell?” you ask as your voice cracks. 

It’s difficult for him to find the words to explain how familiar your body is to him. How he has every inch of it ingrained in his mind as if it had never been separate from him at all. Yet you give him no time to even think before your hands are pawing at your eyes as you try and wipe away your tears. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong. Everything feels so off, but everyone was already getting set up and I just- I don’t know,” you ramble. 

“Hey, hey,” Kyle shushes. His hands glide from your shoulders to your cheeks where he holds your head in place, forcing you to look at him. His touch is almost as warm as his eyes are as he studies your face, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he continues. “You don’t have to explain anythin’ to me. We all have those days. Just… promise me next time you’ll talk to me. I don’t wanna fuck you if you’re not into it.” 

His words destroy you in a way nothing else has, and it’s enough to really get the waterworks running. Despite it all, his gaze is soft as his thumbs brush your cheeks, and you begin to melt into him as your hands reach for his chest for stability. 

“I promise. I’m sorry, I promise,” you sob. 

Kyle cradles the back of your head as he holds you in the tightest embrace you’ve ever received. The soft fabric of his robe soaks up your tears as your body rattles with each cry that escapes. Soft kisses press against the crown of your head as he holds you together, refusing to let you crumble. 

He doesn’t pull away until you do, and you wipe at your wet face. Crying doesn’t make you feel any better than you thought it would, and if anything it leaves you feeling emptier than before. But Kyle doesn’t give up on you. It isn’t long before the dressing room fills with steam from the running shower and he’s leading you in there with your hand in his. 

Hot water washes over your body while Kyle scrubs you clean. There’s something holy about the way his hands glide over your skin, as if he’s cleaning you from the inside out. Neither of you say a word, you just stand there and let him work at you until your muscles loosen and you’re so tired you’re certain you’ll fall asleep on your feet. 

Kyle guides your heavy head up to look at him, and you watch his eyes take in the sight of your tired lids. Concern is still etched deep into his features even as his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip. Gears begin to visibly turn in his mind, and you feel your chest expand with something warm. His mouth twitches before it lands on yours, stealing you away with a kiss. There’s something different about this kiss. It’s leagues different from the ones he normally gives you on set; the primal, messy kiss where his tongue slips into your mouth as if he’s trying to devour you. 

No, there is something different in the softness of it all. How he’s not trying to devour you as much as he is trying to know you. When his lips break away from yours just to dive back in for more, you nearly confuse it for love. You’re not sure what it is, or what it’s supposed to be; all you know is that it leaves you feeling a little less empty and only wanting more. 

[grandline-fics]

Hi can i request a Luffy x fem!reader where the pair are just two dumb idiots together like the reader has a personality like his (overly enthusiastic and optimistic) and they do everything together but they both dont realize that the like eachither (bc again dumb idiots) and the crew works tgt to make them both realize and get them to confess to eachother?

DESCRIPTION: You’re just as clueless as Luffy and the crew have to intervene to make you both realise your feelings

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Luffy

WORDS: 1,734

A/N:  Thank you for this request. I honestly didn't know how to make this work in the beginning but I'm happy with how this fell into place. Hopefully you like what I came up with

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

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Once upon a time the Strawhat crew believed that their Captain was one of a kind. They took his energetic nature, clear motivation to only do what he wanted as his current mood directed without any thought beyond that, stubbornness, and still unwavering joy in the face of most things as the concoction that could only be Luffy. However they were all collectively shocked when you crash landed into their lives and promptly made them realise that everything that made Luffy his loveable yet exhausting self was also very clearly what made you you too and when you and Luffy first interacted it was like two points finally connecting, never to separate. 

All their adventures before you came along seemed like such a breeze, how naive they had been in those days to consider it difficult to keep up with Luffy’s optimism and spontaneity. After you joined the crew if felt like double the work. It didn’t matter if they had eyes on one of the chaotic pair you two created because without the vigilant supervision over both of you, it only assured a disaster that could have been avoided. It never mattered to you or Luffy because at the end of the day you two would be laughing and telling the drained crew that it had worked out in the end and that there had been nothing to worry about. After a while it wasn’t the lack of thought to the crew and their wants of an easy time on an island to explore that frustrated them, it was the fact that you and Luffy still hadn’t realised you had feelings for each other and continued to act like oblivious morons every single day while also so clearly showing them and anyone else you interacted that you were two idiots in love. 

“They’re doing it on purpose.” Nami muttered one day, arms folded tightly across her chest as she glared at you and Luffy running about the deck of the Sunny, laughing and chasing Chopper without a care in the world. Suddenly Luffy grabbed one of the masts and propelled himself through the air. Chopped managed to dodge but you ended up being the one Luffy tackled loudly onto the ground. There was a beat of silence before the two of you burst out into loud laughter once more, doing nothing to move out of the position you were currently in. “They have to be doing it on purpose. They’re evil geniuses.”

“Don’t give them so much credit. They’re both just blind to how they really feel.” Zoro disagreed from his spot in the shade, opening his good eye to look you and Luffy’s way. “Don’t know how many times the stupid cook and I have brought it up. Luffy just believes he loves them the same way he loves us as his crew.”

“Oh no, that’s a very different kind of love compared to what he feels for us.” Usopp said with a small shake of his head. He supposed that the only reason this whole matter hadn’t been resolved yet was because of your personality. Anyone else would have been more aware of the difference and clear feelings and actually talked things out with their Captain. Everyone seemed to let out a collective sigh of exhaustion and resignation. All of them wishing-more for their own selfish peace of mind more than anything- there was something to be done and help you both realise your feelings.

It wasn’t until a week later that the crew stopped at a new island to relax and enjoy while they waited for the Log Pose to set. While some took to resupplying the ships, others took to exploring. You weren’t exactly annoyed that you hadn’t gone with Luffy, you were just confused at why Usopp and Nami insisted on you joining them on their shopping trip and no one else coming with them. Had they had a fight with some of the others on the crew that you weren’t aware of? You certainly hoped not, you didn’t like the crew fighting amongst themselves. 

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Nami whispered to Usopp as they remained a couple paces away from you. Operation: Divide and Conquer might have had a good name but the strategy didn’t seem all that good except try and get you to confess to Luffy by either making you jealous or straight up lying. If they couldn’t get through to you, they would try the same tactic with Luffy.

“It has to!” Usopp hissed back, quickly throwing you a nervous smile when you looked over your shoulder with a curious tilt of your shoulder. “Hey let’s go in here!” He called out in a panic, pointing to the closest store. You stopped and shrugged, going along with whatever the sniper wanted. You had nothing to buy on this trip so you were just here for company and fun. Still this wasn’t what you’d thought would be on his or Name’s shopping list.

“Is someone getting married?” You asked, looking around the store filled with elegant gowns, robes and suits. Suddenly your eyes lit up as you hurried to hug Nami and Usopp tightly, so this was why they had insisted on you coming with them. You couldn’t fully understand why they were being so secretive but it didn��t matter given how overcome with happiness for them. “You guys! I’m so happy for you both! Have you told the others?! Are you getting married on the island?” 

“WHAT?! NO! ” Nami blurted out in shock while Usopp could only shriek at the implication. “We’re not getting married!”

“Oh…that’s a shame.” Your smile fell slightly. “I always thought you two made a nice couple. Guess I was wrong. So who is getting married?” You asked, staring intently on your friends who stammered and struggled to think of something. Operation: Divide and Conquer was crashing and burning around them and their brains all but blanked as together they rambled together while you patiently listened. Neither of them really knew what they’d told you or knew if it made any sort of sense but you seemed to accept it and continued with your day with the frazzled pair.

When you returned to the Sunny later that day you went to your usual perch of the railing near Sunny’s head. Silently you thought over what Usopp and Nami told you and were beginning to work it out in your head when Luffy appeared beside you with a bright grin. “Hey, what’s got you so frustrated looking?” He asked, oblivious to the rest of the crew on the deck; all of them pretending to go about their business when they were only making sure they were close enough to hear. 

“I’m thinking about Usopp.” You explained in a dazed tone, absently running your fingers along your bottom lip, deep in thought. Luffy frowned slightly while different sets of eyes glanced Usopp’s way, all confused about what he and Nami did while they were alone with you. “I’m trying to work out this wedding.”

“Usopp’s getting married?” Luffy asked. On the one hand he was happy but on the other hand he thought Usopp would have told him personally. “To who?”

“That’s what I’m trying to work out.” You mumbled before taking a deep breath, deciding to start from the beginning. “Usopp’s enemy wants him to marry their princess to avoid a great battle but he doesn’t want a fight or to get married so he needs to make them think he’s already married so they don’t get angry right? He needs Sanji to cater the wedding, Brook to preform the music, and Zoro to be his bodyguard so they’re out. Nami said because she’s giving Usopp the money for the wedding that’s the only favour she’s doing and won’t marry him as well because that’s not fair. Usopp said he can’t marry Franky or Robin because they’re like his parents and Chopper’s a reindeer and that’s weird. Which leaves us.” 

The more you explained the situation the more Usopp and Nami shrank towards the floor out of despair and embarrassment. Why had you believed that nonsense enough to now relay it to the entire crew who were now looking at them in bafflement. Through it all Luffy hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. He didn’t want Usopp to be forced to be married to someone he didn’t like but it didn’t stop him from quickly turning on his heel and looking to his friend. “Usopp I’ll marry you!”

“You can’t marry me dumbass!” Usopp shouted back making Luffy glare, all but standing in front of you to block you from Usopp’s stare.

“Well you’re not allowed to marry them. So it’s me or the princess.” Luffy told him with defiance in his eyes.

“Why can’t he marry me?” You asked curiously while getting to your feet, watching Luffy blink as he only now considered his fierce sense of protectiveness and possessiveness towards you. 

“Because I don’t want him to?” He suggested with a shrug. “I don’t want you to marry him, I don’t like it.”

“Well I don’t like you being married to Usopp.” You added, voicing your own reluctance and unhappiness at the thought of Luffy marrying…well anyone. There was a silent exchange between you and Luffy as though you were communicating in your own way through a look alone. Together you both grinned with a faint blush creeping across your cheeks as you both whipped your head towards Usopp and declared in unison.  “Usopp you’re marrying the princess.”

While it hadn’t been the grand romantic epiphany the crew had been expecting to witness, they could tell that a shift between you both had occurred. There was something a little more intimate between you both while you both remained your happy, energetic selves. No one on the crew had the heart to tell either of you that Usopp had been completely lying about the arranged marriage so they never mentioned it again. They were however all in agreement that if it ever was brought up it was to be brushed aside and explained as a story Usopp had been thinking of writing and nothing more. But from the looks of things slowly developing between you and Luffy they could all see that it was shaping up to having a happily ever after.