#this tickled the key thoroughly thank you

[huuuugestmoney]

[ SOUVENIR ]　/　whoever arranged this tropical island getaway hadn't cut any corners. the market streets stretche seemingly without end — a bustling, kaleidoscopic bazaar of stalls one after another, tarp after display of trinkets, clothes, and jewelry for the covetous eye. aventurine won't deny he's tempted, but his pay grade isn't worth just your run-of-the-mill selection of tourist goods. and neither are those he's been tasked with shopping for.

a tall, indigo-topped man catches his eye. makes sense he'd be at a place like this, doesn't it.

"sampo, isn't it?" he wears a smile and a pleasant cordiality like dressage on approach, waiting for the other to turn and process the company before he continues. "aventurine, of the ipc's strategic investment department. we'll just waive the formal introductions, and assume someone so well-informed is already aware."

"we might not be well-acquainted, but the truth is today i could use someone like you. i hear you have a keen eye, good at panning out gold from the rocks. i'm looking for a souvenir for someone with discerning tastes. what do you say?" one-hundred-thousand credits changes hands easily, one deft palm to another. "i could use your skill."

Well, well, well - if it isn't his patron, ish.

Sampo has had his reservations in dealing with the IPC - but today's quote-unquote "adversary" could just as well be tomorrow's partner, yes? Nothing is life is ever free, of course - not even 'free giveaways' but hey! They come close!

Sampo had thought twice about the tickets being offered,

but the fine print had looked innocent enough, and so he'd not bothered to think on them thrice.

Now he wonders if maybe he should have.

Sampo isn't sure whether he should feel flattered or wary that Aventurine isn't the only one here whose reputation precedes him - or, rather, that this number includes Sampo himself. Instinct suggests the latter, flaring caution, but he really, really wouldn't mind the former and getting to preen a little-- ahem. Right.

To the business at hand, then.

Sampo knows a job when he hears one.

"Hehe. You sure have a way with words, Mister Aventurine."

The feel of money is nice. So nice!

It's the best thing since sliced bread, really.

But damn if being handed this kind of lump sum with little preamble doesn't set the hairs at the nape of Sampo's neck on edge. The credits are carefully - yet deftly - stowed away, and Sampo can but beam at his new client. Clasping his hands togetther, fiddling with the edge of his glove a moment, he chuckles. Now that he's been hyped up, he can't well go gently about this, can he?

"I won't let you down, sir! Sampo Koski is on the job!"

[dekariosclan]

Hey! Love your writing so much, I was hoping to grab your opinion on something.

What kind of music do you think Gale would listen to- and if he'd be the type to play any instruments?

Hi!! Thank you, I’m so glad you enjoy my Gale ramblings!

This was a deceptively tough question to answer, because my immediate thought was: “Oh! It’s already established in canon that Gale plays the piano,” due to his romance scene illusion where he shows Tav his Waterdeep home.

….but then I realized that’s not entirely correct. Because what he actually says is:

“The grand piano plays the Lliirian Suites all by itself…”

Of course Gale would enchant his own piano!

However, I do think he would still know how to perform ‘the old-fashioned way,’ with his hands and his own skill, no magic needed. Just like in the bed version of the act2 romance scene 💜.

I feel like musical talent would come fairly easily for Gale; he speaks about ‘composing’ the Weave since he was a young child, while describing magic as ‘poetry, music, physical beauty’ all rolled into one. And given the intricate hand motions / finger motions needed to cast spells, I do believe he’d be quite adept at playing an instrument or two. In particular: the piano, harp, or lyre.

(though God help him if he ever were to play the lyre in front of Minthara. No matter how good his performance, he will be roasted more thoroughly than a chicken on a spit)

Back to the illusion scene, I will say that it does answer the question of what music he would listen to, as he refers to the ‘Lliirian Suites’—however, what category of music that is, unfortunately, remains a mystery! I tried to research what the ‘Lliirian Suites’ are, and I found guesses ranging from being related to the deity Lliira, who is an embodiment of happiness and freedom, to being an easter egg that is just a reference to ‘Larian.’

Regardless, I’m confident that Gale would love classical music and beautifully composed romance/love songs. And I can see him serenading Tav on more than one occasion, perhaps on rainy days in Waterdeep when they find themselves stuck at home. Tav cozied up on the chaise lounge, while Gale settles in with his instrument of choice, making sure to be at an angle where his eyes can frequently meet Tav’s throughout his performance.

And if at some point Gale decides he would prefer to join Tav on the chaise? (Which happens…every single time...) Well! He’ll just enchant the instrument to keep playing while he joins them.

His hands are craving a different challenge, you see. Much as he enjoys tickling the keys/plucking the strings, he’d much rather run his fingers over his beloved.

…and he intends to perform for them very, very well.

[kit-williams]

Zul alt Spray

I wanted to love Zul so much but its really hard to decide which one he deserved... SO I gave him two. This is an older Zul with his Spazeniye

This is also to try to help me break free from the writers rut I'm in

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

as always thank you @squishyowl for the dividers

Tw: SMUT

An untethered World Eater was a dangerous thing... But a World Eater with his higher faculties unimpeded was a threat to everyone around him. It was how in the span of a decade of getting his Spaseniye that he was in charge of his own warband and pulling off an insane heist of another warband's planet now being his own. He jealously guarded Spaseniye as she was the key to his success and while he didn't need to constantly stare at her to get the effects... he kept her around as she too learned a few new tricks. Zul had effectively unchained himself from a cruel master along with an uncaring father and Zul knew, while it looked like she was chained to him, he had chained himself to her... forcing her to take the yoke of Master.

His red-brown eyes glanced over to her as she stood beside him listening to the droning on of the mortal petitioning his aid. They called her The Brass Lady initially a mocking title given his prior dedicated worship of Khorne and the brass Gorget around her neck plus with her being a psyker bearing that title. She was still a pacifist in many ways and in others she realized violence would follow no matter what she did... she still only used her powers for non violence... soothing him and now she can knit his flesh back together and heal him. She was no longer the same shrinking flower that he had found chained to the floor screaming and wailing for her mistress to come back to her... only for Zul to find her instead.

He was thoroughly distracted by her as her robes were new as they had celestial patterns draped over her... a delicate veil of twisting shimmering colors over her head... hiding her hair. Her hands were still frail looking but there was only so much one could do for a Psyker. Perhaps he would be upset that all she uses her powers was for soothing him... healing him... and extending her life but he was fine with their arrangement. He glanced back to the droning man trying to focus on the words but he could smell a faint perfume upon Spaseniye skin... oh how he wanted to bury his nose into the flesh of her neck and rake his teeth upon-

"Please get to the point." Spaseniye spoke up as Zul's vision was both becoming lustful but starting to gain a red tint to it as what would win first his lust or his desire to spill blood? Well with the blood lust quelled for the moment his mind fixated on the delicate scent of the perfume tickling his nose, carrying with it a trace of her natural scent. Zul's favorite smell was when she was sweating with her scent drowning in his own in that post sex bliss... and now Zul was aroused.

He could hear that soft sharp inhale through her nose. Space Marines were akin to animals... powerful smells would assault her as he could see the way she would wrinkle her nose at him occasionally... though on the other hand she rather enjoyed that as she would have her face buried between his legs inhaling deeply as her tongue- "I will think this over. Leave." Zul said as a natural stopping of the conversation had arrived and he was done just being aroused. He stood up and gently tugged on her gorget silently bidding her to follow him.

She followed slightly behind him as they just walked out of the room. Zul was counting his steps and when he had gotten sixteen strides away he grabbed her. She hardly made a peep as he pressed his Spaseniye against the wall, forcing his knee between her legs. His scarred mouth pressed against her own softer lips. His tongue snaked its way roughly into her mouth as he was rough with her but she eagerly pressed her body against his and whimpered with delight. He pulls away with a gruff noise, "He kept looking at you." Zul groused as he pulled open her robes exposing her neck, shoulders, and bare breasts to him. Bite marks peppered her shoulders and once more his torn and scarred lips pressed against her own as he held her tightly and growled, "Mine."

"Yes yours." Spaseniye mewled as she left herself willing and pliant to his wishes. Zul bowed his head slightly as his mouth wrapped around one of her nipples and started to suckle. She writhed under his hands feeling her hands wrap around his head as she moaned softly enjoying this feeling. He could feel the way her thumbs moved against the back of his head over scars where a few of his nails were removed... a few in combat and a few via surgery... all healed by her loving hands. The shaven short blonde hair on the sides of his head moved under her hands as she moaned so softly... his own red hands held her waist, permanently blood stained and giving the rest of the skin of his arms a ruddy color to them. She felt his crooked nose push into the flesh of her breasts as he pulled his mouth away with a pop.

"I'm going to fuck you until you cannot walk." Zul stated as if it was a matter of fact.

"Oh yes please!" Spaseniye said, grinding against his leg eagerly.

He picked her up and held her close growling and snarling at anyone unlucky enough to be between there and their shared bedroom. It was clear what parts of the room were all due because Spaseniye lived in the room with him, as otherwise it would be spartan. But, he indulged in his baseline's need to have comforts where she slept; anything else was in another room out of his way. Though the large mirror in the room was his desire and it was one that had persisted for a long time to have. Oh yes for the longest time he had wanted a mirror for moments like this. Her flowing robes and his tunic quickly hit the floor leaving their bodies to press against each other.

She hollowed her cheeks as she sucked and slobbered over one of his fingers, she could taste lingering iron on the red digit, but she still ran her tongue over the callouses and cuts that lined the digit. Spaseniye let her teeth playfully scrape against his skin as he pulled his finger free with a pop and quickly bullied the wet digit between her folds. Her hands rested on his arm as she spread herself open for him to work her open as she chanted his name and Zul well he relished the softness of her skin against his torn up body and rough flesh. All the little blemishes she had gained over the years... the bites, the scars, the brand on her back, even the stretch marks on her were all from him.

She had such deliciously pliant flesh and he knew Slaanesh had gripped it's meager grasp on this part of his soul. Tightly milking all worship it could get out of the World Eater... and he gave the prince their due. He pulls his finger out before pushing into her and he feel Spaseniye gasp into his neck. His hips still as she lays under him, walls pulsing and throbbing around his cock, his blood stained hands petting her stomach and waist till she finally mewls out for him to love her. Zul chuckles for a moment as he was a fool to wait so long to tell her his feelings but he had to make sure he could keep her safe with no issue.

He fucked her in front of that mirror. Watching the way her breasts pressed against the floor and that fucked out look as he pulled her back onto his cock. When he took her on her back again he positioned them so that he could watch the way he split her open. Watching the way her sex had to be pushed open and then her body swallowing up his girth over and over just vanishing between her legs, Zul couldn't stop himself from drooling over the sight of her skin bulging slightly. "Oh gods..." She moaned as their eyes met in the reflection and she watched her own body get ravaged... she watched her breasts bounce with their stretch marks on the sides... the bruising from his fingers on her hips... he grunted over her and moved harder causing the clapping from their sweaty bodies meeting to become louder.

Zul grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her up to meet him in a kiss. Zul chuckled, feeling the way her cunt fluttered and squeezed him as he treated her roughly. It was amusing to him that someone so fragile enjoyed being handled and fucked like a whore. And he told her as such... watching her write in pleasure under him. She loved the bruises from him grabbing her too hard, bruising her easily bruised form, to have her rear be tender from a swat on her ass from him, her nipples dark from him sucking too hard and too long, her cunt feeling raw and overflowing from him fucking her till he was done... yes they gave the prince their due.

Her toes curled as she couldn't bite back the squeal of pleasure and that blissed smile on her face. Zul split himself inside of her not long after as the faces she makes when she orgasms tend to drive him mad with pleasure. He pulls out and they lay there in front of the mirror as he stares at the way her cunt is spread wide and oozing his cum. He picks her up and carried her to the bed as he collapses into his spot enjoying the mindless bliss he was in. Spaseniye eventually crawled over and nestled against him as she now smelt how he adored.

"But... I think you were right. He did keep looking at me." She spoke up.

An annoyed noise left Zul as his arm wrapped around her and he used that hand to grope and play with the flesh of her ass. "Good to know he was staring at what was mine. Wasn't going to accept his offer now I'm more certain not to." Zul groused before he pulled her into a kiss as they lounged together.

[sassyhobbits]

Misery Business, 8

masterlist

~~~

By the time the bottle of wine had been drained and the cigar smoked to a stub, they declared it was safe enough to head out. Celaena summoned a car to The Vaults then thoroughly thanked and complimented Emrys for the fantastic meal. The cook even shook hands with Rowan.

Though they had talked amicably through the last of desert and wine, by the time both she and Rowan had slipped into the car, exhaustion seemed to take its toll. They could both only sigh heavily and rest their heads back. Celaena could feel a bruise forming on her ribs courtesy of a dirty strike from Manon that managed to get through her defenses.

When they got back to the apartment, Celaena barely had the energy to shower, brush her teeth, and pull on the closest nightgown before she was asleep.

And that night, she slept hard.

So hard that no dreams dared to disturb her, so hard that, when the morning light began to tickle her eyes and awaken her, she felt as though she had only just fallen asleep.

But, the clock displayed the unfortunate truth. The night had gone by too quickly. And Arobynn requested her presence this morning.

Celaena winced as she pushed herself out of bed, body sore in all the worst places. She would likely be late for her meeting with Arobynn, but she found she didn’t have the energy to care this morning.

As she dared to venture out of her room, she was surprised to find Rowan already awake and dressed, fastening the last few buttons of his shirt. He didn’t look particularly haggard, but they had gotten back so late last night that Celaena knew he was likely more tired than he let on.

“You’re up early,” she commented, lifting her arms above her head and stretching.

It was only when Rowan’s eyes drifted down to her body and lingered that she noticed their difference in dress. While her husband was fully clothed and ready for the day, she was in nothing more than her nightgown. It wasn’t unusual for her to wear them while she ate breakfast, but she normally tossed a robe over herself. She hadn’t bothered today, which meant more of her skin was on display than usual. An amount that only grew when her dress rose as she stretched.

It filled her with a feminine sort of satisfaction to know that even Rowan Whitethorn, who had been nothing more than a brooding, cold bastard for most of their time knowing each other, was not immune to her allure.

Arobynn probably would have liked to know this too. A fact that soured her mood instantly.

“Maeve wanted to see me,” said Rowan, gaze snapping back up to hers as if he had never been distracted by the showing of her skin. “She doesn’t like to wait.”

“I can’t imagine she does,” Celaena sighed, running her fingers through her slightly tangled hair.

Rowan finished buttoning up his shirt, grabbing his wallet and keys. “I’ll be back later tonight. I’ll see you then.”

He made towards the door, but only managed a few steps before Celaena’s hand wrapped around his upper arm, stopping him in his tracks with a soft request of, “Wait.”

She felt his gaze boring down on her, though she didn’t quite have the heart to meet it just yet. Celaena still held his arm, keeping him close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

She ground her jaw before flickering her gaze up, meeting Rowan’s eyes.

“I would… appreciate it, if you would keep what I did for Manon to yourself.”

For a few moments, a heavy silence dangled between them. If Arobynn found out that she had willingly saved Manon Blackbeak’s life… well, she couldn’t imagine it would go over well. He had beaten her into oblivion for less. She didn’t know if her new marital status would change anything about his reaction, but Celaena wouldn’t be surprised if he simply didn’t care about the bruises left behind or if Rowan saw them.

A warm relief flooded through her as the corners of Rowan’s lips twitched upwards. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Celaena gave a tiny smile of her own before whispering, “Thank you.”

Neither of them seemed keen to be the first to pull away. Her hand remained wrapped around his arm, loosely enough that he could peel away if he wanted. Yet, he didn’t.

She wished she didn’t notice the strength within her hand, didn’t note his pine and snow scent, wasn’t affected by the way he was currently looking at her.

Celaena wanted to blame it on the fact that she hadn’t slept with anyone for months. But, if she were being honest, that was only part of the reason her blood was currently hot beneath her skin, that every inch of her felt electric, longing for Rowan to touch her. The other reason was that he was handsome and, despite everything being stacked against them, found that she liked him. And was unfortunately attracted to him.

She didn’t miss how his green eyes briefly fluttered down, lingering on the curves of her breasts exposed by the cut of her nightgown. When he looked back up, his eyes had darkened in what Celaena knew could only be lust. A thrill raced through her, speeding up her heart and making her breath catch in her throat.

There was something magnetic drawing them together. Celaena couldn’t even recall making the choice to inch her face closer to Rowan’s, to part her lips in offering. She wasn’t sure what was going through her husband’s head as he followed her lead, face close enough to hers that she could feel his breath ghosting across her face.

A chirping cell phone shattered the moment before it even began.

They slipped away from one another as if nothing had happened, Rowan hissing out a curse and pulling his phone from his pocket. He frowned at whatever he saw.

“It’s Maeve,” he explained, dragging a hand down his face. “I’ve got to go.”

Celaena tossed her hair back, striding towards the kitchen, nothing but calm, cool, and collected. “Don’t wait on my account. I need to be heading to Arobynn’s soon, anyhow.”

He gave a firm nod, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “Right. I suppose I’ll see you after, then.”

Celaena could only grin at her husband and say, “I’ll be seeing you then.”

…

The meeting with Arobynn started out quite smoothly.

Celaena reported all that had happened the previous night, save for the details with her saving Manon from being burned alive. It was an easy detail to skip over, especially when Arobynn was already so pleased to know that they had destroyed everything.

She remembered a time where she sat in this office nearly every day, when this entire mansion had felt like an extension of herself in a way.

But, coming back reminded her why she had been all too happy to leave. She was greeted with leers from some of Arobynn’s other men, who hated her because they thought he doted on her too much. The housekeepers and cleaners were always too frightened to meet her eyes. And, there was also a faint echoing of pained screams from beneath the expansive house.

By the end of the report, Celaena was ready to leave. She was still worn out from the long night and wanted nothing more than to collapse back into bed for a few hours.

"I'm very happy with you and your husband's work," Arobynn said, leaning back in his chair. "How are things progressing with him?"

Celaena kept her face neutral as she answered, "Very well. He… trusts me now, I think."

"That's good news, indeed."

Celaena tried to keep her expression passive and bored, tracing the tip of her finger down the smoothly carved arm or her chair. "What will become of him after we destroy Maeve?"

Arobynn sighed, pushing to his feet and coming to the other side of the desk. He leaned his weight against it, sliding his hands into the pockets of his perfectly tailored trousers. "It depends."

"On what?"

"How willing he would be to work with us. Rowan Whitethorn is a talented, vicious man. If he chooses to  work with us, I will be happy to have him. If he decides that our betrayal to Maeve is too unforgivable…"

Celaena raised an impatient brow. "Then?"

Arobynn's face was cold. "Then you would put him down. Unless, that would be a problem?"

She urged a sharp grin to her lips. "Of course not. It would be an honor."

The art of lying had been one that Celaena had always excelled in. A few months ago, she would have been perfectly content with killing Rowan. But now… she didn't know if she could do it. She could try to convince him to fake his death, but depending on how he handles the betrayal, he could leave her with no choice.

She didn't want to think about that.

"Speaking of your husband," Arobynn said, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and producing an envelope. "This is for the two of you. From Maeve and I."

A black wax seal kept the envelope closed. On the other side, written in an elegant, looping script was Mr. and Mrs. Whitethorn.

Celaena scowled. "I told her I didn't change my name."

Arobynn waved a dismissive hand through the air. "She doesn't have the time to write those herself, darling."

She didn't bother breaking the seal. "What is it?"

"An invitation," he explained. "For a small gala."

"Gala?" repeated Celaena disbelievingly.

"More of a large dinner party, but gala sounds much more elegant, doesn't it?" Arobynn crossed his arms over his chest. "We are meeting with a very powerful potential business partner from Valbara, hosting this event at Maeve’s estate."

"And you want us there for what reason, exactly? To look pretty? Neither of us get involved in your politics."

"It certainly wouldn't hurt to show our potential new friends a pretty face," Arobynn chuckled. "But, the two of you are well known. Infamous."

"A display of strength, then."

"That's one of the reasons."

"And the other?"

A smirk curled onto Arobynn’s lips. "We'll be in the heart of Maeve’s operation. There's vital information stored in her office there… and we'll be invited right in."

Understanding flowed through Celaena. "You want me to spy, to break into her office and find her sensitive files. Learn as much about her as I can."

"Indeed. If we are going to find anything to help topple her, it would be there."

Celaena could only dip her chin. "Very well, then. Is there anything else you need? I had a very long night."

"No, that's all for today. I'll send you something pretty to wear for the gala."

She hid her frown. Arobynn had bought her plenty of clothes and shoes and jewelry in the past, but that was when she had anonymity on her side. Now, wearing something bought by him when she would be paraded before potential allies, beside her husband, felt different. Felt possessive.

But that was something she would deal with later. Now, she only wanted to sleep for a few more hours.

…

The week went by quickly, the gala approaching just as fast.

There was nothing remarkable about the days that led up to the event, besides a sudden drop in temperature that told Celaena the fall snows were fast approaching. She and Rowan did their jobs, would come home, sometimes order food or Rowan would cook. Fenrys came over again one evening. It was all terribly domestic.

They didn't share another charged moment like they had that morning after blowing the Blackbeak base to hell, but there was a shift. Some guards let down. She would find herself studying the strong lines of Rowan’s body, the handsome planes of his face, with far more frequency. And she knew she didn't imagine how his gaze would linger on her, the heat simmering in his eyes.

There was no denying the attraction that now clearly hung between them, but neither dared to make the first move.

She wanted him to, though. Celaena wanted him to kiss her hard, to pull the clothes from her body, to carry her to either of their rooms and fuck until they both collapsed from exhaustion. She wanted release. A release better than what she had been giving herself with her hands.

She didn't know how much longer she could keep on playing this game. Though, she couldn't imagine Rowan could last much longer either. Celaena felt his predatory gaze on her as she strode around the apartment in her nightgowns, which only got skimpier and more scandalous as time went on, trying to goad her husband into acting.

The idea was almost laughable. In the past, Celaena never would have thought she would ever have to tease her husband into taking her to bed. But she supposed an arranged marriage would lead to such situations.

Celaena knew her husband was less than excited about the prospect of dressing in finery and socializing. He normally wasn't involved in the business side of things.

"What do you know about this guy, anyway?" Celaena had asked one night as they polished off a bottle of red wine after dinner. "Michael Something?"

"Micah Domitus," Rowan said. "Powerful man. The governor of his city."

"What do Maeve and Arobynn want with him?"

"His operation makes obscene amounts of party drugs. Expensive stuff. I'm sure they want in on that, offer to sell the stuff over here."

Celaena snorted into her wine glass. "The idea of a fancy governor selling party drugs to kids is ridiculous."

"Regardless of how ridiculous it is, it makes him that much more rich and powerful."

She sighed, leaning back in her seat. "I do not look forward to meeting him."

Rowan could only grunt in agreement.

But, despite their reluctance, the night still arrived anyway.

A box arrived the day before, a card with Celaena’s name attached. She knew it had come from Arobynn. The gift that he had promised, and expected her to don.

It was lovely, at least. The material was fine and likely expensive, smooth and soft against her skin. It was black and long-sleeved, the skirt hitting mid-calf. While it looked perfectly modest from the front with its turtleneck and coverage, the back was completely open, leaving her skin on display. She paired it with a simple gold necklace, emerald earrings to match her wedding band, and expensive black heels with a perfectly pointed toe. Once her hair was swept back, the shorter pieces hanging free to frame her face, and her makeup applied, Celaena was thoroughly satisfied. She looked beautiful. She looked powerful.

Still, there was one damned button she hadn’t been able to fasten yet.

Celaena snarled in frustration, breezing out of her bedroom into the space she shared with Rowan.

She found her husband glowering at his reflection in a mirror that hung in the hall, trying to straighten his tie. His attentions quickly shifted once she strode out.

“I can’t fasten this damned button,” she griped, fingers fumbling with the fastening at the nape of her neck. She turned her back to her husband. “Could you help me, please?”

Although she could not see him, she both heard his steps approach and felt the heat of his body as he came to a stop just behind her. Celaena’s breath caught in her throat as his fingers brushed against hers, urging them away so he could complete the task himself.

“These buttons look like real pearls,” Rowan mused as he worked, breath ghosting against the back of her neck.

Celaena clamped down on the shiver that threatened to race down her spine. “They probably are. The dress was expensive. A gift from Arobynn.”

“For what?”

For being his blade in the dark, for helping him take down his enemies, as an apology for forcing her to wed a stranger. But, Celaena said none of that, choosing instead to give a lazy shrug. “Arobynn has more money than he knows what to do with. So he spends it on over-priced gifts.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No. I adore expensive clothing.”

Rowan chuckled behind her, the sound shuddering straight to her core.

“There,” he breathed at last, fingers dropping from the claspe at her neck, trailing every so lightly down the bare length of her spine. “Done.”

It took everything Celaena had in her to not moan at the sensation of his knuckles dancing down her exposed skin, to not lean back and arch herself into his hard body. Instead, she turned around, facing her husband fully and drinking him in.

He wore a well-fit suit, likely expensive despite his griping about finery. It was a dark gray, nearly black. The shape highlighted his broad shoulders, made him appear nearly regal. He looked mighty handsome, despite his still-crooked tie.

Rowan’s own eyes traveled down her body slowly, before rising again to meet her gaze. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice barely more than a rasp.

He had never said anything of the sort to her before. Further proof of the shift in their relationship.

Celaena only grinned and said, “I know. You clean up quite well yourself, Rowan Whitethorn. Except…” She took a step forward, grabbing his tie and helping to straighten it out. She knew he looked to her rather than the work she was doing to his attire. She pretended not to notice.

Celaena smoothed his now straightened tie against his broad chest. “There. All better.”

When she looked up from beneath her lashes, Rowan was already staring at her. In a manner that made her linger close to him, that made her blood heat beneath her flesh.

“If you’re going to continue looking at me like that,” Celaena began, “then you should at least have the decency to ravish me properly.”

“Is that so?” Rowan asked, quirking an amused brow.

“It is. We’ve been married a while now and you still haven’t taken me to bed.”

“Perhaps I’ve been worried you would take the opportunity to smother me with my pillow.”

Celaena rolled her eyes. “I’m a trained assassin, Rowan. I would do something far more elegant than smother you with your pillow.”

“Good to know.”

She blinked up at him. “So are you? Going to ravish me thoroughly?”

Rowan lifted his wrist, looking at the watch that rested upon it. “I don’t know if we have time for thoroughly.”

Celaena couldn’t hold back the simmering smirk that stretched across her face. “After the gala, then?”

It was as if a flame smoldered behind those pine-green eyes. “If that is what you wish.”

“And what do you wish?”

She felt the weight of his hand on her waist, his fingers curling in tight. “I think you know that by now, Sardothien.”

“So no more hating each other then?” Her hands reached out slowly, trailing down his arms. “No more snarling and spatting?”

“I think the snarling and spatting adds to the fun,” he said. “But, I do believe we are beyond the hating.”

“I find myself agreeing with you for once.”

“Why do I feel as if that’s the first and only time I will hear that from you?” There was a ghost of a smile on his lip. “Still, we do have somewhere to be. And our car is likely waiting outside for us now.”

Although the last thing on Celaena’s mind right now was to go to a dinner party, she knew she must. So, she reluctantly stepped away from her husband who had all but promised her the night of debauchery she had been seeking. In a contrast to their heated words, he was nothing but a gentleman as he helped her put on her coat before offering her his arm.

His face was grim, as if they were about to march into battle.

Celaena patted his arm. “Don’t worry, dear husband. I’ll protect you from small talk.”

He huffed out a breathy laugh as they swept from the apartment. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She wanted to laugh freely, to be prepared to enjoy the night as much as they could manage. But, as she looked up at Rowan, she remembered the task that had been assigned to her since their engagement. To make him like her, to slither deep into Maeve’s operation, only to make it tumble all down.

It took considerable strength to keep that smile on her face as they climbed into the black of the expensive sedan sent to pick them up.

Celaena could only hope that, when the time comes, Rowan would have the capacity to forgive her for what she was forced to do.

…

Celaena had never seen Maeve’s personal residence until tonight.

Unlike Arobynn, who didn’t mind his business venture bleeding into his personal life, Maeve’s home was far separate from the headquarters of her operation. Celaena had expected her manor to be built in the same sleek, modern motifs as the headquarters she had visited last week to be. Instead, she found herself mistaken.

Maeve’s personal home held all the same old-world charm that Arobynn’s mansion did. It was a sprawling estate equipped with tight security around the edges, with neatly trimmed grass and well-lit fountains carved into the images of dancing women to lead the way from the gate to the front of the sprawling home.

Everything was clearly maintained meticulously, from the gardens to the old architecture of the home itself.

“This is Maeve’s home?” asked Celaena in disbelief as the driver neared the brightly-lit home at the top of the hill.

“It is,” her husband replied. “Did you expect something different?”

“I don’t know if I expected a blocky, modern home or a gothic mansion lit only by the lightning that perpetually surrounds it.”

Beside her, Rowan laughed.

There was a line of cars before them, well-dressed individuals streaming out of them and into the entryway. Celaena knew they were all allies or partners of either Maeve or Arobynn. She wondered if any of them were the guest of honor, or just more powerful seat-fillers to impress the governor.

Eventually, their driver reached the top of the driveway. Someone opened the door, allowing Rowan out first who then offered his hand to her, assisting her out of the tall sedan. Once again, he offered her his arm, helping her navigate the gravel road in her heels.

“Did you mean what you said?” Rowan murmured to her as they neared the expansive front doors that offered a slim peek into the ornate insides of the mansion.

“About being ravished? Or not smothering you with your pillow?”

Rowan shot her a sharp look, though it lacked true venom. “About protecting me from the small talk, smartass.”

“Ah, that.” She looked up at her husband. “I’ll certainly try my hardest, but such things can often be out of my control. Who’s to say where I’ll be swept off to when the night starts?”

It was partially true. Knowing Arobynn, he would want to show her off to some folk considering most of the anonymity she had in the past had been lost once she married Rowan. Now Arobynn could tote her around in an attempt to get people clamoring for her services.

And, of course, he expected her to break into Maeve’s private office. Rowan couldn't be with her during that.

Side by side, they strode up the stairs that led to the front of the home and the party within it. As soon as they passed through the double doors, there were people there to take their coats. Once again, in a rare occurrence of gentlemen-like behavior, Rowan helped her take off her coat, handing it and his own off to the darkly dressed workers.

As soon as their hands were free, flutes of champagne were pressed into them.

Celaena would have to commend Maeve on the service they were receiving. It was excellent.

Rowan’s hand rested on her bared back, calloused fingers dancing across the skin as he held his glass up to hers.

“Ready?”

Celaena only smiled and clinked her glass against his. “Always.”

It was impossible to ignore the glances sent their way as they strode deeper into the gilded mansion. Everyone was dressed to the nines, a kingdom’s worth of jewels and clothes draped over bodies. Some, Celaena recognized. Either she had seen Arobynn speaking to them in the past, or they had hired her to take out their enemies.

It was easy to tell the people who recognized and understood just who, exactly, she and Rowan were. A slightly widening eye, a hard swallow, a paling face. All dead giveaways.

And those who didn’t know who they were stared in a very different manner.

Desire and lust, directed at both her and her husband. It was easy for Celaena to ignore the men and women who stared her down as if they were attempting to undress her with their eyes. Those that were doing the same to Rowan, however, made her bristle. Not that he paid them any mind either.

She wondered how long they could make it before someone tried to speak with them.

Celaena quickly found out that the answer was, not very long at all.

Maeve swiftly intercepted them, Arobynn at her side.

“Welcome,” she said, flashing her white teeth in a smile. “I’m so happy to see the two of you here.”

Celaena refrained from rolling her eyes. As if they’d have any other choice.

Maeve looked every bit the elegant hostess that she was. Her hair fell in a gleaming, black sheet down the back of her violet gown. The velvet looked expensive, but judging by the opulence that surrounded them, Maeve could more than afford it.

“Thank you for inviting us,” said Celaena with a tight smile of her own. “It’s lovely.”

“Speaking of lovely,” drawled Arobynn, “you look stunning in that dress tonight.”

Arobynn himself was put together nicely as well. A deep, navy blue three-piece suit, his red hair combed back neatly. He looked untouchable. Perhaps he was.

Celaena knew she didn’t imagine how Rowan’s hand tightened every so slightly on her wait at Arobynn’s words, but she pushed it out of her mind, nodding her head in thanks.  “Your tastes remain as exquisite as ever.”

He preened at the compliment before reaching a hand out. “Come with me for a bit, darling. I have a few people who look forward to meeting you.”

Although there was a pit in her stomach at the thought, she still stepped away from Rowan, casting her husband one last look that said, Sorry. Looks like you’ll have to brave the small talk on your own for a bit.

A hint of amusement shone through his otherwise stony exterior. I think I’ll survive it. Just barely.

Celaena offered one last little smile before turning her direction fully towards Arobynn, striding forward and taking his arm. She could feel Rowan’s gaze pinned between her shoulders as she was led away into the chattering, glittering crowd.

“I must say,” Arobynn purred close to her ear once they were swept up in the masses, “You truly seemed to have done a number on Whitethorn. I’m proud.”

Celaena’s heart sank to her stomach. “Oh?”

“The only time he could take his eyes off you was when he was glaring at anyone else who looked too long at how entrancing you are tonight,” he continued. “I do believe you’ve been quite successful in your endeavors thus far. I’m proud.”

Celaena had not been studying Rowan that closely tonight. She had known that, in the privacy of their apartment, he had been allowing his gaze to wander and linger. But had he been looking at her in such a manner tonight, or had Arobynn been seeing what he wanted to see?

“Men are simple,” was all she could work out in response.

“Well, let’s hope that stays true throughout tonight.” Arobynn slowed to a stop before a tall, blond man, a charming (smarmy) courtier’s smile gracing his face. “Mr. Domitus. Allow me to introduce my heir, Celaena Sardothien.”

She masked her surprise as the man turned towards them. Celaena had been expecting to meet him with Rowan at her side, but it would seem that Arobynn had taken things into his own hands.

The stranger turned towards them fully and Celaena got her first look at the guest of honor.

Micah Domitus was a tall, elegant man. His gleaming, pale blonde hair was swept back neatly from his handsome face. He looked as though he were carved from marble, all smooth skin stretched over angular bones. He oozed easy charm, a man who was used to getting what he wanted: money, power, women… it was written all over his finely-clad, lean body.

He smiled slowly, cold eyes tracking her from her head to her toes in a manner that made her skin crawl.

Celaena let go of Arobynn’s arm and reached her hand out. “It’s nice to make your acquaintance.”

“Believe me,” Micah said, taking her hand. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Where Celaena had expected him to shake her hand, he instead held it, placing a kiss to her knuckles. It took immense strength to not draw her lips back in a snarl, to not snap at Arobynn for what felt like being pimped out.

“May I just say, Miss Sardothien,” said Micah, releasing her hand and drawing back. “You are exquisite.”

Celaena held up her left hand, flashing the emerald ring that sat on it. “I’m also married.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Married life hasn’t made her any less vicious, though,” said Arobynn, taking a step closer. “Should you ever have need of her services.”

“I have my own assassin back in Valbara,” said Micah, taking a sip of his bourbon while still looking his fill at her. “But should I make any enemies on your continent, I will keep your offer in mind.”

Celaena’s hands were balled into fists at her side, nails cutting into her palms. She longed to be anywhere else than here, dealing with Arobynn and his consorts. She had never reveled in it, but she had grown far too used to being away from her master and his schemes. It made everything grate against her far worse.

She found herself longing for a quiet night lounging around the apartment, eating takeout and sharing a bottle of wine with Rowan. She was foolish to let herself grow too used to that routine, to let herself forget that she lived under the thumb of Arobynn Hamel.

There was the warmth of a hand resting against her bare back, the scent of pine and snow surrounding her. Her fingers unfurled, the tension diffused from her shoulders, she could breathe easier.

“There you are,” said Rowan. “It’s almost time for dinner.”

The false smile on her face eased away into an earnest one as she looked up at her husband. He was already staring down at her, expression seeming to ask, Is everything alright here?

Her hand rested on his arm. Just dandy, now.

He didn’t seem to be fully convinced. Celaena saw his jaw tighten before he looked at their guest, his eyes darkening. The way he was glaring down Micah likely wasn’t what Maeve and Arobynn had in mind for their meeting, but it thoroughly pleased Celaena. Her husband was a dangerous man. It would do both Micah and Arobynn good to remember that.

“This is Maeve’s nephew, Rowan,” said Arobynn. Perhaps others wouldn’t notice it, but Celaena had known Arobynn for over half her life. There was a feathering in his jaw, a minuscule sign of fury. Clearly, he hadn’t wanted Rowan here.

“You must be the husband,” said Micah, reaching out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Rowan didn’t take his hand immediately, allowing it to hang in the air between them for a few beats before he gave it a single, firm shake. “Did I interrupt anything important?”

That muscle flickered in Arobynn’s jaw again. “Not at all. Perhaps we should all move to the dining room, then?”

“Agreed.” Micah looked towards Celaena once more. “I’ll be seeing you later, Miss Sardothien.”

With that, he and Arobynn strode away towards where dinner would be served. Though, not before her master could shoot her a sharp glare that told her that he was less than happy with how this exchange had gone. She suspected she would be dealing with the consequences of that later.

Once the pair was out of earshot, Rowan huffed a heavy breath. “He didn’t seem pleasant.”

“Were you pleasant?”

“I’m never pleasant.” He looked towards her, a smile tugging the corner of his lips. “But you know that.”

Celaena snorted out a laugh. “Indeed I did. I didn’t know, however, that your unpleasantness would ever come in handy.”

“You’d be surprised.” His hand still rested on her back, a steady, comforting weight. “You want to head to the dining room? I don’t have to talk when I’m eating.”

“Ever the pragmatist. Let’s go.”

…

Although the food was excellent, Celaena wouldn’t say she had an excellent time during the meal.

She was seated between Arobynn and Rowan, the former who seemed to revel in the fact that he knew his displeasure was seeping her direction. He made it his mission to drag her into conversations she had no interest in being a part of. He could have very well talked up her skill-set without her adding anything.

But, she also knew she had a job to complete before the night was over.

Maeve hadn’t left the head of the table all night, talking with all her guests and keeping herself busy. Her being the hostess would be a boon for Celaena as she would be far too distracted to slip away by herself or to notice whether or not a guest was present or not.

But, Celaena still had to be strategic about it. She sat through dinner and desert, watching as the guests around her drank more. Their voices grew louder, words started to slur, people were distracted. It was the most opportune time to do what needed to be done.

There was a pit of guilt in her stomach at the thought. Not because of Maeve, but because of Rowan. They had built a trust of sorts. And she would soon be abusing it.

She stood from the table, excusing herself to go to the ladies room. Rowan only seemed irked at the idea of being left to fend for himself at the table, especially while the older woman who was sat on the other side of him had indulged in a few too many glasses of wine and was drunk enough to find his grumpiness ever so charming.

No one gave Celaena a second look as she strode away from the dinner table down the connected hall. Quickly, the din of voices and laughter faded away, becoming nothing more than a distant echo.

It was easy to navigate the halls. Arobynn had procured blueprints of Maeve’s home, had pointed out her office. Celaena had studied the layout until she was certain she could find her way with her eyes closed.

She passed by expensive art and sculptures, pottery likely as old as Terrasen itself, as she ventured to the end of the hall and took the staircase to her left.

It was nearly dead silent on the second floor, the hall dimly lit. Her heels were muffled by the carpet runner that stretched down the corridor, her breaths even and deep. Celaena counted the doors she passed until she slowed to a stop before her target. There was nothing about this door that screamed about what lay on the other side, but she knew anyway.

She tried to turn the handle. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. Celaena lifted the hem of her skirt slightly, allowing her to reach under and find the lock-picking kit she had strapped to her thigh as she dressed for the evening.

The lock to Maeve’s office wasn’t anything special. Celaena had it opened within a few heartbeats and was inside within another, shutting the door behind her with a gentle click.

Celaena didn’t dare turn on a light, which left her to work with only the cold light of the moon that filtered through the giant window that looked down upon her grounds. Maeve’s home office was more like Arobynn’s: dark fabrics, well-made, antique furniture, a wall filled with old books. The desk was kept neat and organized, nothing of importance left out on its surface. But, as Celaena rounded to the other side of the desk, she found locked drawers built into it. If there were to be anything that would pique Arobynn’s interest, it would be in those.

Again, it was almost painfully easy to open those locks and reveal the files upon files inside. Exactly what she came for.

Celaena didn’t waste time she didn’t have. Eventually, Rowan would notice she was gone. There were already a few small fibs she had up her sleeve in case he questioned her lengthy disappearance, but she would prefer no confrontation at all.

So, Celaena began reading.

Maeve kept information on her shipments, her buyers, and business partners that even Celaena had no idea about. Her web was vast and wide; she had her claws sunk somewhere in every city in every kingdom. There was illuminating information about her finances and investments, showing how truly deep her pockets ran. Celaena read about those in the police force and politicians that were on her payroll, the areas in the city she had the most sway in. Celaena had always known that Maeve was a powerful woman, but she had underestimated just how much so.

Once Celaena was satisfied she had gotten a significant amount of information from one drawer, she moved to the other. Her eyes skimmed over the neatly organized tabs, trying to find one that would likely hold the most pertinent details that Arobynn would be looking for.

But then, her eyes snagged on a familiar name. A file labeled Sardothien, C.

With furrowed brows, Celaena grabbed the folder, placing it on the gleaming, mahogany desk before her. Maeve didn’t have a file on Arobynn, but she had one on her? What about herself could warrant a file locked away in Maeve’s private office?

Although time was ticking, morbid curiosity got the better of her. Celaena opened the file, eyes roaming over the information held within.

It started out innocent enough: her name, where and when she was born, her age, her height. There seemed to be a few old photos that they were able to take of her through the years, though her face was always hidden. She was sure that had infuriated Maeve before they had become allied.

That should have been it. Celaena had been nothing more than a shadow for years, there was no other information that Maeve should've had on her. And yet, there was more.

Celaena flipped the sheet with her basic information over, revealing what laid beyond.

She could have sworn her heart froze in her chest when she discovered what was there.

There was only a faint, dull ringing in her ears as Celaena looked at the photograph before her. It was a well-dressed family: an older man with steadily silvering hair, a younger man with dark brown hair and a golden woman with a kind smile. Standing before them were two children. If it weren’t for the obvious difference in age, they could have been twins. Same shade of golden blonde hair, same skin turned tan by the summer sun, same eyes-

Celaena’s breathing sped up, pressure building up within her. There were newspaper clippings from the worst day of her life, more damning photos of that little blonde girl and her family, a family tree that ended in a name she hadn’t heard in nearly fifteen years and-

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Celaena had been too shell-shocked to hear anyone approach, but it was too late now. Rowan had found her.

And there was nothing but pure fury on his face.

…

Rowan Whitethorn hadn’t made out to follow Celaena through Maeve’s home.

She had stood, excusing herself to go to the ladies room. A good deal of eyes appreciatively watched as his wife strode away, including those of that asshole, Domitus. Rowan witnessed how he had interacted with Celaena, the way he had been looking at her.

Although their marriage was little more than a business arrangement, she was still his wife. And it would do people well to remember that fact.

Though, he couldn’t blame most of the people for looking at her the way they did. Celaena looked stunning tonight. A beauty edged with danger, like a venomous snake with iridescent scales or a prowling big cat. The allure could draw people in, but always at their own risk.

There had been a shift between them this last week. Where there were once glares there was now heated glances, where Celaena had once snapped at him she now delighted in innuendo. When she wore her nightgowns around the apartment, she knew he was looking at her.

Rowan was aware she was teasing him, daring him to make the first move. And gods, there had been a night or two where he had gotten close to doing just so. He had wanted to grab her by the hips, lift the silky hem of her nightgown, find out what kind of sounds she would make when he touched and teased between her legs.

But, he had held fast, just as curious to see how long it would take her to break.

Regardless of his self-control, Celaena still managed to slip into his dreams in a manner that only an icy-cold shower could cure.

And then just that night, before they had left, the exchange they had shared, the promise that would lead to them in bed… he knew Celaena hadn’t been joking. Neither had he.

That was part of the reason that he trailed after her only a few seconds after she had left. Rowan hoped to grab her, to convince her to slip out of the party early so they could go home and finally do what everything these past few days had been leading up to.

The other reason was that his patience had been wearing thin with the older woman at his side and her relentless flirtations.

So, he had pushed to his feet and followed.

Rowan expected to just catch a glimpse of her slipping into the bathroom, but was greeted instead with the sight of his wife strolling right past it and going up to the next floor.

If Celaena had been a different person, perhaps he would have given her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she was lost or misheard the directions.

But she was Celaena Sardothien, and she was not that kind of woman.

He followed behind her, keeping his feet as soft as possible, the rage in the pit of his stomach icy and sharp. He should have known better, should have kept his guard up. In their time living together, he had forgotten who, exactly, Celaena Sardothien was.

When he saw what door she stopped in front of, the kit she had strapped to her thigh, he knew that he had been played.

Rowan didn’t follow her immediately, let her slip inside Maeve’s office and waited a few minutes. He wanted to catch her in the act, to leave no room for her to talk her way out of whatever she was doing behind those closed doors and then…

He wasn’t sure what would come next. Whether this betrayal was coming from Arobynn or Celaena herself, there would be consequences from Maeve.

He didn't revel in that idea.

Regardless, Rowan braced himself for a fight and entered the office.

What he found within confirmed his suspicions: Celaena pouring over files from Maeve’s locked cabinets. A snarl settled on his lips, fingers curling into fists at his sides. He expected her to notice him, but whatever she was reading had entranced her enough that she didn’t acknowledge his presence until he growled, “What the fuck are you doing?”

Those turquoise eyes of her snapped upwards at his voice as he strode across the office, swiftly closing the distance between them. To her credit, she didn’t flinch as he stopped right before her.

“And to think I was just starting to trust you,” Rowan hissed.

He expected her to snap, to try and convince him it wasn’t what it seemed, to distract him with her snarky jokes and her flirtations. But she didn’t do any of that. Instead, she just stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly, normally golden skin pale, eyes wide with genuine fear swimming in them. She didn't look upset that she got caught. It looked as though she had seen a ghost.

Against his better judgment, Rowan took his eyes off her as glanced at whatever file she had been reading. He saw her own name printed on the tab, confused as to why his aunt had a separate file for Celaena both here and at her headquarters. And then, he saw the photos. Photos that hadn’t been in the files about his wife that he had read. Photos of a familiar family, newspaper clips with bold, tragic headlines.

Rowan froze. He looked at the photo of the young, blonde girl clipped into the file. No older than ten, dressed in fine clothing. Everyone in Terrasen, hell, everyone on the continent had seen this photo. It had been printed in papers, blasted on the news, for months and months nearly fifteen years ago and now…

He didn’t know how he didn’t realize it before, but looking at the photo now, a younger version of the woman trembling before him, there was only one, impossible conclusion.

“Holy burning gods,” Rowan rasped, looking up and meeting those damning turquoise and gold eyes that stared at him unblinkingly. “You’re Aelin Galathynius.”

~~~

a/n: oop!! new chap! it was a long one too so i hope that made up for the wait. i personally really liked this chapter, so i hope yall did too :))

tags: @val-gon @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks​ @lattristantketchup @poisonous00​ @sleeping-and-books​ @booklover242​ @elentiyawhitethorn​ @shyvioletcat​ @charlizeed​ @swankii-art-teacher​ @nalgenewhore​ @morganofthewildfire​ @emily-gsh​ @fireheart-violet​ @fangirling-4-ever​ @leiawritesstories​ @stardelia​ @empress-ofbloodshed​ @fromthelibraryofemilyj​ @gwynethhberdara​ @rowaelinrambling​ @justreadertings​ @thegreyj​ @rubyriveraqueen​ @rowanaelinn​

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 3

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous →Part 2

Next →Part 4

Never before had you dreaded something more than you dreaded arriving for work the morning following your incident with Keishin. More than anything, you hoped he was thoroughly pissed at you and had left for work early that day so that the two of you wouldn’t have to see each other, but much to your displeasure and horror, when you stepped into the store that morning, he was sitting at the front counter, waiting for you.

How was he not pissed at you after what you had said to him? 

When the sound of the front doors sliding open filled the otherwise silent building, leaving the keys in your hand useless as Keishin had already unlocked the store, you gripped the keys tightly and swallowed hard when he looked up at you. He didn’t say anything at first, maybe because he was waiting to see if you would make the first move, but after last night you were done making first moves when it came to him.

Averting his gaze and dropping your head low, you shoved the keys back into your pocket and headed for the back room to put your stuff away and get this day over with. 

Just as you were about to open the door to the back room, Keishin cleared his throat and you stopped in your tracks, head turning to look at him without thinking about it. 

“Good morning, Y/N.” This was the very first time he had greeted you first, and on top of that, the very first time he had ever used your name. 

You weren’t sure how to respond, confusion and excitement mixing in your body to create an overwhelming concoction. “Good morning,” you mumbled in response before disappearing into the back before he could do anything else out of the ordinary, like God forbid initiate a conversation or something.

You took your sweet time getting ready, delaying heading out to the front of the store as long as possible to give Keishin ample time to leave. After about fifteen minutes or so, you emerged only to find him sitting right where he had been before, newspaper sprawled on the counter and a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Shouldn’t you have left by now?” The questioned slipped past your lips before you even had the chance to filter it through your head.

Eyes wide, Keishin was surprised that you had spoken to him almost as much as you were. “We’re expecting a big delivery today, so I’m sticking around,” he answered. “You’ve never handled one by yourself so my mom asked me to show you how it’s done.”

Your heart sank, your stomach twisted, your knees felt weak. So he was going to be here with you all day long? “Perfect,” you groaned, not even bothering to hide the sarcasm in your tone. “That’s just awesome. Great.”

“Listen, it’s not my idea of an ideal day either, but it is what it is,” he said. “So why don’t we just put last night behind us, chalk it up to exhaustion and the influence of alcohol on my part, and move forward?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, the fact that you couldn’t seem to figure him out thoroughly starting to irritate you. “How are you not angry at me?” you questioned him. “I was . . . horrible last night.”

You had spent the entire night after getting home thinking about the horrendous way you had behaved. The things you had done and said made you feel awful and you couldn’t understand how Keishin wasn’t on the brink of smacking the shit out of you right now.

“It’s fine.” He flashed a smile, trying his best to prove that he wasn’t dwelling on the past. “I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

Looking around to double check that the two of you were the only ones in the store, you lowered your voice before speaking. “But I put my hands on you. You can really just forget that?” Heat swelled in your cheeks as you recalled the less horrible events that had taken place.

“I touched you too,” he reminded you.

“Yeah, but yours was an accident.” You weren’t sure why you were saying all of this stuff; it was almost like you wanted him to be angry at you. Who knows, maybe you did. “I called you a burnout.”

Keishin let out a booming laugh at that. “Take a good long look at me, kid.” He smirked, gesturing to himself. “You really think I’ve never been called worse?”

“I don’t think that’s the point,” you breathed out.

Keishin opened his mouth to speak, but before he let a word out, he changed his mind and pressed his lips together. In the meantime, he watched you, the cogs in his head obviously working hard. “You’re an odd one, you know that?” He stood up, walked over to you, and set a hand on your shoulder. “I said it’s fine, so just forget about it, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, finally giving in. 

“Good. Now, get to work, because this place isn’t going to run itself and I’m only here to help with the delivery, so until then, I’ll be napping on the couch in the back. Wake me up when the truck gets here.”

Before you had a chance to respond, Keishin gave you a pat on the head and disappeared into the back room without another word.

You stood in place for a moment, unsure if the fact that he had forgiven you so easily was a relief or not. You didn’t allow yourself to worry too long about that though, because, like Keishin had said, you had work to do and the store wasn’t going to run itself. And, if your memory served you correctly, you had some sweeping to do in the back corner.

For about two hours, you fell back into your normal workday routine, completely forgetting about the events of the previous night or the fact that Keishin was napping in the back. That was, until you saw the delivery truck pull up in front of the store and remembered you had been given the task of waking the sleeping man. 

Heading into the back, you moved slowly and quietly even though it didn’t matter if you woke Keishin since that was what you were supposed to do anyway. 

“Keishin,” you spoke softly, not wanting to startle him. “The delivery truck is here.”

Of course, he didn’t even budge at that. Nervously, you stepped closer to the couch, unable to ignore the fact that Keishin looked completely different when he was asleep. The usual frown or cocky grin he sported was nowhere to be seen and he didn’t seem as intimidating when his eyes were closed and his breathing was so slow and rhythmic. 

“Keishin.” You reached out and placed your hand on his shoulder like he had done to you earlier and shook him slightly. Still nothing. Rolling your eyes, you were unsure what to try next aside from shouting right in his face. If only he had warned you he was a heavy sleeper. 

Deciding to try one last thing before you resorting to screeching, you leaned closer to his ear, planted your hand on his chest—a brief memory of how you had touched him last night flashing in your mind—and shook him once more while you spoke. “Keishin, the delivery truck is here,” you said, not whispering but also not being too loud.

Thankfully, the mixture of shaking him and speaking directly into his ear seemed to finally do the trick and his eyes shot open. Immediately, you jumped back, not wanting him to be weirded out by how close you were to him. 

Eyes travelling up to meet yours, Keishin yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Truck’s here?” he clarified.

“Yeah, it just arrived,” you told him, waiting for him to get up. “You should have told me you were a heavy sleeper. I was about to scream or pour water over you or something.”

Keishin cringed at the thought of that. “Well, thank goodness you didn’t. Next time, just pinch my nose or tickle me or something . . . anything but water.”

“Next time?” you asked. “You plan on taking naps on the couch often?”

“It’s my favourite place to nap. You should try it sometime,” he said before heading for the door. “Come on, let’s get this delivery over with. Try to learn fast so I don’t have to teach you again.”

“I’ll try my best.”

As you had pretty much expected, the delivery had been pretty straight forward. After helping the delivery man unload all of the boxes into the storage room and signing off on the delivery, the most time-consuming and complex part of the process was taking an inventory of the new supplies, which you picked up on pretty quickly. 

Keishin showed you how to mark down the new delivery on the clipboard kept in the storage room and where to input the total count for each item. From there, all you had to do was make sure you had received everything and had the correct number ordered. 

“Pretty easy, right?” He glanced at you out the corner of his eye as the two of you worked together at counting the inventory, keeping an ear open for customers in the process.

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem hard. Just time consuming,” you agreed. 

“Exactly. We usually get a big delivery like this about once a month, then smaller deliveries throughout the week for more perishable items, as you already know.”

You nodded, quickly becoming lost in the repetitive task of counting and writing down the amount on the clipboard. Weirdly enough, you found that you didn’t actually hate taking inventory; the simple task was actually kind of calming and passed the time effortlessly. 

“50,” you muttered under your breath, jotting down the number in the correct box right after you finished counting. When you turned back to start on the next box, you caught Keishin looking in your direction. “What?” You furrowed your brows at him. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“You,” he responded, quickly elaborating when you shot him a confused look. “Well, more specifically, why you took this job.”

You shrugged as you continued working. “I already told you. I need the money.”

“Right, so you can move out on your own. But why?”

Your hands stopped grabbing items and your mind stopped counting, making you lose track. “Because I’ve been waiting for as long as I can remember to live my own life and now that I have the opportunity, I’m not going to pass it up.”

“But wouldn’t you much rather be going to school? Surely you don’t want to work in a place like this for the rest of your life.”

You sighed heavily. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

“I’m just curious,” Keishin said. “I want to understand you better.”

“I don’t think you could truly understand unless you experienced the childhood that I did.”

Stopping his work as well, Keishin leaned against the shelf and crossed his arms over his chest. “Try me.”

Rolling your eyes, you accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to give up. “First thing’s first, I’m not saying my childhood was tragic or anything. My parents didn’t beat me. They fed me and clothed me and everything a parent should.” You started, waiting for him to nod before continuing. “I was just never allowed to live my own life or make my own decisions. I ate what my parents wanted me to eat, I wore what they wanted me to wear. I took the classes they wanted me to, I was friends with who they thought would make a good friend. They went overboard on trying to get me to do what they thought was best for me. I was never old enough or mature enough to know what I really wanted. I lived in a controlling dictatorship.”

“What about soccer?” Keishin asked, proving that he had actually remembered the conversation the two of you had had on your first day at the store. “You told me you used to play.”

You smiled fondly at the thought of your high school soccer team. “That was the only thing I ever got to pick for myself . . . and it took months of convincing, and in the end, I was only allowed to continue because I was good at it. The fact that I genuinely enjoyed it never came into account for my parents.” Your smiled faded slightly. “Sometimes they even managed to drain the fun from that as well, but I refused to let them ruin it for me because it was the only thing I had that was mine.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Every day . . . but this is more important right now.”

Keishin was silent for a few moments while he processed everything you had said. “Sounds like everything needed to have a purpose.”

“Pretty much. If something had no chance of providing success in the future, it was a waste of time.”

“So the plan is to work so you can afford your own place, then go to school next year? How are you going to afford school?”

“Well, if I had followed my parents plan for me and started working toward a law degree, they would have paid for it. But since I’ve decided to do my own thing now, I’m just lucky they haven’t kicked me out of the house yet . . . so I guess I’ll have to get a scholarship or apply for student loans. I’ll basically be scraping by, so I’ve applied for a bunch of community colleges and I’ll go from there I guess.”

Fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, Keishin lit one before sticking it between his lips. “What do you want to do?”

You laughed slightly at that. “I have no idea. I was never allowed to have hobbies or interests, so I don’t even know what I like. I just know what I don’t like. If I could do anything though, I’d apply for the University of Tokyo. They have a great soccer program. I just want to play soccer again.”

Keishin smiled. “Just soccer?”

“For now, yeah. I’ve learned that I’ll have to take life step by step, so that’s the first major goal. I’ll probably take some first year classes and see what I like and go from there. I think it’s okay to not have a set-in-stone plan sometimes . . . after all, this is the first time in my life I’ve never had my future planned out for me. It’s kind of exciting . . . scary, too, but exciting.”

Keishin sighed contently as he watched your eyes light up when you talked about the things you wanted to do in the future. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded. “Sure.”

“So what was the point of what happened last night?” he inquired. “And, while we’re at it, the past few weeks as well. How do I fit into this grand plan of yours?”

You felt your heart pound against your chest. “I thought we were forgetting about last night?”

“We are,” he assured you. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m just curious, is all.”

You thought for a moment, unsure how to phrase exactly how you were feeling. At first, you were inclined to take him up on his offer to not answer, but after how nice he had been to you today, you felt you owed him at least that. 

“Originally, I was in a pretty messed-up head space and I wanted to use you to get back at my parents,” you told him truthfully, “. . . but after last night, I did some serious thinking and realized that wasn’t the case. What I really want is to prove to my parents that not everything that is different or ‘not according to plan’ is bad. You have an  . . . alternative look about you,” you tried to phrase that as respectfully as possible, causing Keishin to chuckle, “but you’re not a bad person or, despite my harsh words last night, a burnout. You coach volleyball for high school kids and you help out at your family’s store and even though I’ve been pretty horrible to you, you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

You paused, unsure if you should say the last part or not. “I don’t know, I just think that maybe if they met you, they might realize that I’m capable of making good choices for myself even if it doesn’t fit their predetermined mold of my life.”

“You think I’m a good choice?” he asked, taken aback by your honesty.

“Yeah.” You eyed him while he took a drag from his cigarette and let the smoke spill from his lips. “Maybe not the nicotine addiction part, but hey, no one’s perfect.”

Keishin chuckled before putting his smoke out. “Okay, I’ve got a deal for you.”

You cocked a brow at him. “What?”

“If I pretend to be your boyfriend and help you fix things with your parents, you have to apply to the University of Tokyo and follow your dream of playing soccer.”

You were thoroughly perplexed. “Both conditions of that deal only really benefit me. What do you get out of it?”

He just shrugged. “Nothing.”

You scoffed. “Well, as generous and sketchy as that sounds, there is no way I would be able to afford the University of Tokyo on my own and I don’t think any amount of ass-kissing could make my parents agree to pay for me to go there to play soccer and figure life out.”

“Hey, one step at a time, right?” He used your own words against you. 

You contemplated his offer for a moment. “You’re really okay with that? Even though you get nothing but more work out of it?”

“I suggested it, didn’t I?”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “You’d really pretend to be my boyfriend? Even though I’m just some rebellious kid?”

“Your opinion of me changed,” he pointed out. “Why can’t my opinion of you change too?”

“Fair enough,” you conceded. “Well, if you’re absolutely positive you won’t regret it when you wake up tomorrow morning, I’ll happily accept your deal. Thank you.”

Keishin turned back to the stack of boxes and promptly returned to the task at hand. “You’re welcome.”

You watched him work and quietly hum to himself while he did so. This time, it was his turn to catch you staring. “What?” he looked over at you.

“I just didn’t peg you for such a softy is all,” you joked. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he scoffed at you. “Just don’t fall in love with me or anything, kid.”

You smirked. “Whatever you say, old man.”

[volleychumps]

ive been feeling fluffy lately and can u make scenarios where s/o accidentally bump or crash into akaashi, iwaizumi, kuroo, oikawa, and eita and s/o highkey has a crush on them and shocked and doesn’t know how to react but then suddenly gets a kiss on the lips/cheek/nose with a confession? idk if this makes sense loll! thx!

Awh, I’ll do a continuation of this one for the requested boys, thank you for the request, love I know you’ve been waiting a bit<3

Accidental Confessions w/ Akaashi, Iwaizumi, Kuroo, Oikawa, and Semi

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

Akaashi

The library bustled with light chatter as your earbuds played a light tune in your ears as you scanned the bookshelves, deep in thought as you decided on what to grab. The aisle was more isolated away from the others, and you didn’t mind- most people were here to study anyway, uninterested in the aisle that held the older novels.

Your eyes widen a little when you begin to pull a certain book out, the whole shelf seeming to rock with your movement as you still immediately, wanting not to cause a commotion if the shelf were to fall along with the many books obviously over-stacked on the shelves. You bite back a groan, glancing around before deciding to quickly pull the book out anyway, thinking if you were fast enough, the shelf wouldn’t be able to lose its’ weak sturdiness.

The shelf immediately begins to lurch forward, and you panic, shutting your eyes tightly on instinct, knowing your current upper body strength wouldn’t be able to support such a hardware. All you could do was pray it wouldn’t lurch far enough to fall-

You wince for potential impact, instead hearing quick footsteps and the sound of two hands jutting against the shelf. You hear books fall to your feet, and put your hands over your head in case any fell on you.

Either you were just lucky, or-

“Must be a really good book then, huh?”

You open your eyes just in time to see a hard-covered book hit Akaashi Keiji’s head, one of his blue-green eyes shutting at the impact in slight pain. The heat flames to your cheeks before you can control it, glancing around to realize if your now distanced friend hadn’t been there, you could have been squashed flat. His hands were resting on either side of you, arms outstretched as he had ducked his head to cover yours from any falling books.

The tune still playing in your ears seemed muffled as you tried to grasp the situation, a stutter fumbling into your words.

“I’m so s-sorry, does it hurt?” You melt into panic, looking away from anywhere except Akaashi’s usual blunt stare.

“Getting hit by books is never fun. Now I know how Bokuto feels.”

You shrink away, attempting to escape from Akaashi’s human cage.

“Thank you, Keiji.” You manage out in doing so, still not meeting the eyes of someone you once called a friend before certain feelings led to you avoiding him. “We should get you checked-”

“Why are you avoiding me, Y/N?”

Fuck.

“I’m not. And we should really go to the nurse-”

“Y/N.” Your mouth goes dry when Akaashi tugs one of your earbuds out, leaning into you even more as you’re suddenly thankful for the isolated aisle. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” You exclaim, fumbling your words. “I-I did something wrong! And it would just be easier to ignore everything I feel for you, but I can’t when I’m near you all the time-”

You clamp a hand over your mouth, eyes widening as you try to run again, but Akaashi easily keeps you in place, the blunt blue stare seeming to have another emotion swimming amongst his eyes matching the ocean.

“Y/N.”

“W-What?”

“I just saved you from a bookshelf and potential death. Do me a favor.”

“What?” You repeat in a squeak, shying away behind your book as Akaashi merely shows a ghost of a smile, pushing the book away as you back into the bookshelf, eyes widening at the proximity. 

The book cluttered to your feet amongst the others, the tune in your one ear still playing as Akaashi slipped the loose earbud in, filling your ears with music and your chest with symphony as his lips pressed tightly against your forehead. 

“Just let me say that I like you too, will you?” 

Iwaizumi

“Sit here! I’ll be right back!”

Iwaizumi didn’t really know how he ended up here.

The ace watches as you rush out of your kitchen with flushed features, examining the few cuts on his hand and legs from the fall of his bike. Your morning jog just so happened to be one you lost yourself in, your foot entangling with one of Iwa’s wheels that led to his painful outcome and you insisting you come back to yours to assess the damage.

Iwa crosses his arms, leaning back against the counter before wincing a little. This was nothing. The whole reason he had even accepted was-

“I found the kit-!”

Iwa watches amusedly as you trip over yourself in your return, stumbling a little before giving him a cute apologetic bow and settling next to him, fiddling with the opening of the kit.

“I’m really fine, Y/N.”

Iwa arches a brow when your movements still, and your blossomed cheeks had the ace feel pride swell in his chest at his effect on you.

“W-Wait, you know me?”

“We’re in the same class.” Iwa attempts to play it off, clearing his throat. Truth be told, the ace had heard of your cutesy crush on him a few weeks ago, only making Iwaizumi notice you more and more with each passing day. Of course, he was really good about being discreet about it-

still, that didn’t cover the smirk on his face when he caught you glancing his way once or twice.

“Right...”

“That is why you invited me here, right?” Iwa sweatdrops. “You don’t just let random men you don’t know-”

“No! Of course not!” You rush out embarrasedly as Iwa hides his teasing smirk, covering his mouth with his hand as you sterilize a cotton swab. “I do know you...”

Iwaizumi closes his eyes at the stinging on his cheek as you gently glide the swab over it, disinfecting it thoroughly as your heart pounds at the situation. How had your crush ended up seated in your empty kitchen on a Sunday morning?

“Is your bike alright?” Your shaky voice makes conversation as Iwa takes another teasing jab, scoff in his words.

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.”

“T-That’s not what I mean!” You whine, even more embarrassed than before as Iwa’s chest rises with a chuckle. This was fun.

“Where else?!” You question, wanting this to be over with once you placed a bandaid over the cuts on his cheek and hands.

“My back.”

You spin around hastily when Iwa deadass takes his shirt off, flexing a little as you hide your face in your hands, not believing this was happening. You take a shaky breath that had a coy grin tickling Iwa’s lips as he feels your hands gently trace up his back to his wound.

“Enjoying yourself?” Iwa questions as your silence makes him turn around a little, smirk fading when he sees you had buried your face in your hands once again.

“Please stop teasing me.” Your hushed voice mumbles into your palms as Iwa immediately feels the guilt wash over him, prompting the dark haired boy to turn around completely.

“Hey- I’m sorry.” Iwa gently tugs one of your hands away from your voice to reveal your teary eyes and blushing face, eyes widening at the sight as a warmth spread over his chest.

“You’re fun to mess with- I didn’t mean to go that far.”

Iwa feels something in him snap when you pout, nodding and refusing to meet his eyes before he pulls the wrist in his hand towards him, causing you to lean a little into him as your eyes widen.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“Hm?”

Your face burns at the feel of Iwa brushing his lips against your cheek, causing you to wrench out of his grip and stumble back in absolute shock. You control your breathing as Iwa pulls his shirt back on over his head, looking at you casually before swinging his bike keys on one finger. 

“So do you want to go on a date, or what?”

Kuroo

“Please grab him!”

Kuroo’s eyes widen as the cutest cat he had ever seen leaps up into his arms with ease, a grin spreading out across the captain’s features as he strokes its’ soft fur as it purrs, snuggling into his arms.

Apparently, the owner of this cat just happened to be the cutest person, in his book. For awhile now, actually.

You groan, jogging lightly up to the boy you knew as the captain of the volleyball team while bowing your head apologetically as Kuroo’s grin only widens at the sight of you. You plant your feet on the sidewalk, smiling a little at the way your cat seemed to be content with the feel of Kuroo’s arms.

“I’m so sorry!” You click your tongue, carefully taking your pet from the captain’s arms and setting it on the ground as your cat rubs up against one of your legs, grinning a tad apologetically. “Kuroo-senpai!” 

Kuroo didn’t know what to say, chuckling a little awkwardly as a heat tickled his ears. You weren’t strangers for the most part, you were just the girl who passed by him after the third bell with the same friend everyday, always offering him a bright smile and nod as you strolled past him. 

And he continued to look for that smile at the same time of each day, a little more bounce to his step each time your lips stretched for him. 

“It’s nothing, little fella got loose, did he?” Kuroo crosses his arms, fighting to keep the nervous crack out of his voice as you sigh, running the hand that wasn’t holding the loose leash through your hair. 

“He hates walks because of this thing, so I’m not that surprised.” 

“Walking a cat is a rare sight to see.” 

“You’re a rare sight to see.” You counter, tone teasing as Kuroo’s eyes widen a fraction as the heat spreads to his cheeks. “Shouldn’t you be like, spiking a volleyball right now?” 

Before Kuroo could question whether or not you paid attention in a flirtatious manner, a tug at his legs stopped him as the captain reacts quickly- 

Your pet, as a form of hell to pay, had casually walked a circle around the two of you with both of you failing to notice, walking off as the leash slowly tightened around your pairs of ankles, prompting you to trip as your ankles become tied together. 

A squeak slips your lips as Kuroo turns, relasing a loud groan as his back hits the concrete, your front falling onto his chest as Kuroo instinctively wrapped his arms around you for utmost protection. 

“You damn cat!” You groan, trying to get up to no avail as said cat licks its’ paw from a distance, causing you to roll your eyes before realizing the situation you were in. 

You lift yourself up a little with both arms, a blush rushing to your face at how close your face and the captain’s was as Kuroo’s slackened jaw tightens to form a smirk. 

“Falling for me, are you?” 

“Talk about cheesy.” You laugh awkwardly, beginning to scramble off. “Again, I’m so sorry-” 

Kuroo’s arms tighten around your waist, tugging you back down to hold you tightly from this position as the captain’s feral eyes seem to gaze up at the sky, you stuttering as you look up from his chest with blossomed cheeks. 

“S-Senpai?” 

“Just a little longer.” His arms tighten. “Please?” 

The beat of silence was filled with shock as your eyes widen at the sound of Kuroo’s chest beating rapidly, the captain chuckling when you seemed to be listening a bit too intently. 

“Now would probably be a good time for me to tell you that you’re the cutest girl I’ve wanted to take out for awhile, huh?” 

Oikawa

“Gotcha!” 

You blanch as Oikawa Tooru’s gym bag falls to the ground with a thud, catching you in the flashiest way possible before you could fully hit the ground, your papers flittering around you like snow as you bite back a groan. One of your hands rested on the captain’s chest, your waist in the hands of the one and only- 

Really, right in front of his fangirls? You think, reminded of the salad meme as you scramble out of the brunette’s hold, rushing past him with a rushed thank you in hopes to avoid the herd. 

“W-Wait, Y/N-chan!” 

You nod to his friend Matsukawa in thanks as you accept your now collected papers, ignoring his calls as you turned the corner hastily, embarrassment flooding your cheeks along with a strange beat in your chest. 

“Mattsun, I failed again...” Oikawa’s hand slackens as a pout overtakes the brunette’s lips as Matsukawa shrugs, amused by the whole situation as he nods over to the poorly-hidden fanclub. 

“Blame them.” 

Oikawa groans, turning to glare at his fellow senior. “I said help me win her over, not trip her!” 

“I’m no miracle worker.” Matsukawa simply shrugs, pocketing his hands in his school pants as he grins in the direction you had run off in. “Still, I get it. You want the girl who’s not a complete ditz for you.” 

“That’s not why!” Oikawa denies, brushing past the group of girls vying for his attention. “Y/N’s special. She doesn’t...” 

“Treat you like the asshole you are?” 

“Yeah! That!” Oikawa snaps before realization dawns on the brunette’s features, glaring at a cackling Matsukawa. “Wait, no-” 

“I can’t believe we’re friends.” 

Oikawa’s sassy retort falls on deaf ears as Matsukawa turns into his class, offering a single wave to his captain as Oikawa groans, heading in his own direction as he wonders if he’ll ever be able to tell you, deciding to skip class to sulk in his sadness. 

Rounding a corner, he’s surprised to see none-other than your figure sitting quietly in a secluded staircase that was hardly used, seeming to be skipping as well as you tapped a pen to your lips, working on some forgotten homework as a pile of the previous scattered papers sat at your side. Oikawa’s lips pull into a natural smile at your content features, his heart rate picking up, thinking he was being given another chance. 

The brunette considers his next course of action, grinning before shaking your shoulders and scaring you out of nowhere. 

“Y/N-chan~!” 

You jump, a small scream erupting from your mouth before you hastily cover your mouth with widened eyes meeting chocolate ones as Oikawa flinches, not expecting you to react that way. 

“Who’s there?” An authoritive voice booms as you both seem to panic at the same time, and the next thing the captain knows, your papers were shoved messily into your bag before your hand tugged at his sleeve as you ran, pulling him along in the process.

You throw the door to an unused classroom open before dragging Oikawa in and sliding the door shut quietly, not bothering with the light as Oikawa watches with widened eyes, thoroughly impressed. 

“You-!” 

Oikawa swallows, nodding obediently when you put a finger to his lips, listening for the chaser’s footsteps to fade away before you sigh, flicking the light on before glaring at the brunette. 

“Are you insane?”

“In my defense- who could’ve guessed that corridor echoed?” Oikawa responds with an easy smile as you relax a little at the sight before going to retort- 

The footsteps come again, prompting Oikawa to panic and tugging you so your back hits the wall next to the door, shushing you as you did to him as the easy smile comes back as his pointer finger rests against your lips as he seizes the opportunity. 

“If we get caught, I just want you to know that I love you.” 

Oikawa’s breath hitches when you roll your eyes, prompting the brunette to tilt your head up carefully, brown eyes drifting over yours before cupping your face and kissing the tip of your nose just as the footsteps race past the door, your stunned features causing the captain to smirk at the pink that lightens your cheeks. 

“I wasn’t joking.” 

Semi

The car seemed to have come out of nowhere, and your feet stilled on the crosswalk stupidly as the sign for pedestrians continued to flash as the driver tried to skid to a stop-

but it was clear that it wouldn’t be enough.

The breath gets knocked out of you as soon as you clench your eyes shut tight, trembling at what was to come until you realize that the car wasn’t what caused your loss of breath. 

Semi Eita pants, chest heaving as both of the setter’s arms supported his weight off of you, nonetheless protecting you from the horrid outcome that was darting straight at you as his brown eyes lit up, brimmed with fury and worry. You lay on your back, frozen in shock at the fast-paced events as the street of cars zoomed past the two of you on the sidewalk. 

“What the hell were you thinking?!” Your classmate questions, backing off immediately when he sees your eyes well up with tears, voice shaky as you stare up at him, unblinking as the fear trickles over. 

“T-The sign...” 

Semi sighs, turning to flick off the driver who was asking if you were okay before telling him to get the hell out of there, helping you to your feet in doing so. The walk to school should have been like any other day, Semi walking behind you to the same destination about eight feet away with his eyes trained on the back of your head- 

ever since you had held back the eight feet to wait for him on a rainy day, ushering him under the umbrella so you could both get to school at least semi-dry, Semi Eita had made it a point to work up the nerve to walk to school with you as an every day occurence-

Even if was eight feet away, content with making sure you made it there safe. 

“Can you walk okay?” Your classmate’s voice was unusually softer, yet still had his custom hard edge to it as all thoughts of making it to school on time faded from his head. 

You blink, seeming to be in a daze as you stared at the ongoing traffic that seemed to be going about as it normally would as you begin to imagine what you would have looked like under it. Semi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, not used to being so close to you as you begin to tremble before sighing. 

“Don’t worry about being late. Sensei wouldn’t-” 

“I could’ve died...” 

Semi’s eyes widen when you wrap your arms around yourself, still shaking. 

“...right?” 

“I mean, yeah?” Semi regretted the words as soon as they slipped, watching as a new round of tears came on as the trembling turned almost violent as a hand covered your mouth. 

“Oh my god-!” You hiccup, and the setter panics, moving before he can think. 

Semi’s hands cautiously take your face gently, forcing you to look at his eyes. “You’re alive. You’re fine.”

“I-I’m not-!” You seem to be on the edge of falling to panic, and Semi’s eyes widen even more as he realizes he needs to bring you back and grounded, making a split decision before he can back out. 

“Close your eyes.” Semi instructs, an authority edge to his callous voice that had you listening as the tears continued- 

The trembling seeming to lift completely as soon as Semi Eita’s lips press against yours tightly, sending your mind awhirl in a way that had him holding you against him tighter until your breathing evens out, the buildup of anxiety fading at the feeling of the amount of emotion behind the setter’s actions. 

You’re still sniffling when the setter pulls back slightly, uncaring of the public eyes of traffic. 

“S-Semi?” You manage out, wiping your eyes as Semi’s breaths take a turn to become shaky, the setter looking down with his forehead resting against yours. 

“I’ll take you to school from now on.” The words came out confidently as Semi’s thumb catches a few stray tears, locking eyes with you as the anxious feeling in your chest is replaced with a beating one- one you could hear in your ears. 

“Would that be okay?” He presses, not prepared for the small smile that takes over your features before you reach up and press your lips against his cheek sweetly, taking the setter off-guard as Semi finds himself interlacing your fingers with his. 

“Okay.” 

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

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046

[hualianff]

Smol XL

Modern AU where HX comes home around one in the morning after his night shift at a restaurant known for its exquisite fish dishes. Even after taking a dinner break during his shift, HX is starving.

It takes HX several tries to jam his key into the lock before successfully stepping into his apartment. His numb feet carry him through the foyer, heading straight to the fridge.

On his way to the kitchen, the open space to the living room grants HX a view of his roommate HC’s head turned to the television. Some sort of rom-com mixed with martial arts plays on the screen—not what HC typically watches, but HX doesn’t care enough to think too much of it.

With a large yawn, HX opens the fridge in hopes there is something moderately tasty to snack on. The sweet and tangy smell of pork hits HX’s nose, surprising him. HC must have cooked tonight because there was no pork in the fridge this afternoon when HX left for work.

HX reaches for the container sitting on the shelf at chest level, inspecting the overflowing contents of pork, veggies, and rice. He is momentarily skeptical. It’s strange for HC to leave so many leftovers after cooking. It seems HC has left enough that HX can snag a portion. When it comes to his roommate, HX certainly takes what he can get.

After glancing at the lid, HX spots a small sticky note with elegant hand-writing: He Xuan ♡

(HX: 🤨)

HX turns to the counter.

There’s another container with semi-burnt cookies in the middle of the island.

(HX: 😲 )

Begrudgingly, HX scoops the leftover food and some cookies into a bowl to take to his room. On his way, HX is forced to pass by the living room. This time he is afforded a side view of the couch.

Sure enough, HC’s boyfriend is tightly wedged between his legs, leaning back against HC’s chest. A purple velvet blanket covers them both, combining their forms into one huge blob.

The couple doesn’t notice HX. Or at least, HC side-eyes HX for a split second before leaning his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder, eyes glued back to the television.

HX shakes his head, then scurries into his room.

Even if HC is going to have XL over for dates and permeate the air with romance when HX is home, at least they always save food for him.

***

When HX gets up at a quarter till seven to brew his morning coffee, he’s met with the sight of XL cheerfully mixing pancake batter in just boxers and a t-shirt that is clearly HC’s because of the way it slips off one shoulder.

HX rapidly blinks as his eyes immediately locate all the love bites littered on XL’s collarbone.

“He Xuan, hi! Good morning!” XL exclaims, turning to face the taller man.

“Morning,” HX greets with a nod of his head. To distract himself from the physical evidence that HC is a goddamn leech, he rounds the counter until he stands beside XL. Out of politeness, HX asks, “What are you making?”

“Pancakes! I’m trying this new recipe that my mother sent me. They’re supposed to be extra fluffy and savory, and I’m going to add blackberries since those are San Lang’s favorite,” XL explains distractedly. HX assesses the bowl of blackberries, bottle of syrup, and whipped cream on the island behind them. “And don’t worry, I’ve made enough servings for the three of us and possibly extra. But that depends how hungry you and San Lang are.”

HX stares wordlessly at XL’s side profile as XL turns the stove on with a brief click! The shorter man holds his palm over the pan, waiting for it to heat up.

It’s safe to say HX is thoroughly touched, though he would rather not admit it. Despite his snarky comments, HC cares for HX with little things like doing his laundry or buying HX’s favorite snacks on a spontaneous grocery run. Then there’s XL who goes out of his way to strike conversations with HX to ask about his days and of course, cook for HX.

The two of them make quite a pair.

So here HX is, helping XL flip the pancakes while XL himself decorates the stack designated for HC. Once enough pancakes for the three of them have been cooked–half the bowl of batter left–HX picks his plate up, standing behind XL to wait for the toppings.

HX is in the middle of telling XL about this one customer who eats at the restaurant every week just to request that the head chef, which is HX, surprise them for their dinner order. It baffles HX to no end. What was the point of going to a restaurant and relying on the chef to decide what you’re going to eat?

“How can a person be so bold?” HX asks in disbelief. He tugs at the collar of his black t-shirt, itching at an area on his shoulder where his uniform slightly chafed the skin. XL laughs lightly, followed by the sound of whipped cream splattering out.

“Well, they certainly have your attention, don’t they?” he teases, flashing HX a smile over his shoulder.

HX jerks back at that.

“What? No, they don’t. Not like what you’re thinking. No. Nope, not like that-” HX rambles, narrowing his eyes at the shorter man.

“What’s their name?”

“...”

XL merely raises his eyebrows. HX exhales sharply, breaking eye contact with the devil’s counterpart.

“How could I not know? Their name is always on the receipt. It’s not my fault I’ve memorized it from seeing it so many times.”

“I never said anything was your fault. But…” XL trails off. He turns back to sprinkle some chocolate shavings onto HC’s pancakes. “Are they hot?”

HX outwardly scoffs. Seriously, HC is a terrible influence on his boyfriend!

(Little does HX know, it goes both ways.)

“What- what kind of question is that? Completely irrelevant. I’m a chef who does their job. I don’t care about a customer’s looks; I care about their tastes and whether they are sufficed by the food we serve. Nothing more,” HX insists.

He is unknowingly babbling at this point. He doesn’t know why his big mouth makes its appearance whenever he’s with XL. It just happens. Which HX will regret within a few hours. But it’s okay because no matter what HX has to say, XL is the type of person who will always listen.

Having at the very least one person like this in his life is not something HX will take for granted.

“-and it seems to work because they always leave generous tips, which I’m not complaining about-”

A raspy dominant voice asserts itself in the middle of HX’s monologue.

“Why the fuck are you talking to yourself?”

HX pauses his rambling, eyes rolling to the ceiling. This dickhead-

But before HX can turn around to respond with a defensive “fuck off,” XL’s entire body straightens up. With the plate of neatly stacked pancakes piled with berries, whipped cream, and chocolate, XL peeks his head out to the side of HX’s figure.

“San Lang! I made pancakes-!”

A startled choking sound snags in HC’s throat.

“Gege!?”

HX, in the middle of such a comical scene, can barely contain his amused smirk.

***

Bonus:

HC internally screams as XL settles into his arms for their movie night. He loves squeezing XL against his body. Hugging him from behind. Tickling him. Really, anything to get his boyfriend’s attention. (As if he doesn’t already hog most of it.)

XL alike loves being in HC’s arms. He loves listening to HC’s heartbeat while leaning back against him; loves feeling HC’s laughs reverberate against his chest.

Towards the end of the first movie, HC playfully pokes XL on the cheek. When XL turns his head around with an indignant expression, HC grabs his chin and places loving pecks all over those soft cheeks. XL instantly smiles, eyes curving into crescents from the affection.

HC quickly gravitates towards XL’s lips, pressing his mouth firmly against XL’s. Within seconds, HC’s grip on XL’s jaw tightens as he kisses his boyfriend with urgency, swiping a tongue against his bottom lip.

XL, gasping out a breathless: “Hmmph-! San Lngg-!”

Twenty minutes into their makeout session, the smoke alarm goes off. The couple breaks apart from the blaring beeping.

XL: “MY COOKIES-“ *leaps off of HC*

HC, winded as XL uses him as a springboard to jump off the couch: “OOF-“ *wheezes*

Raws:

XL IS SHORT ENOUGH TO NOT BE SEEN FROM THE BACK OF THE COUCH. HC���S FRAME COMPLETELY SHIELDS HIM.

XL IS SMOL COMPARED TO HIS TOL BF

HX saw the food and was like “yep, Xie Lian is definitely over, even if I can’t currently see him”

(Special thanks to @no-one-says-hi for contributing/listening)

[intheticklecloset]

Don’t Hate the Player (My Hero Academia)

Primary Universe

@kiyachi-tickles​ I know that for a lot of these video game fics people tend to write about Mario Kart, but I’m a SEGA girl, so I decided to switch things up and have the boys play Team Sonic Racing! And, well...Bakugou doesn’t really do well with teamwork, does he? ^^

Hope you enjoy, and thanks for accepting my request, too! I can’t wait to read it! 😁

~

“Nothing’s gonna slow me down!”

“Yeah, Kacchan. Nothing’s going to slow me down!” Deku teased his friend while keeping his eyes on the screen as his character – Silver – raced along the track with ease.

Beside him, Bakugou grumbled. “Yeah, yeah. Just wait, nerd. I’ll catch up.” This was the third grand prix they’d played in this game, having decided beforehand to play through all six of them before even firing up their laptops. Deku had already won the first two, and two races into the third, he was set to win again.

Bakugou’s character – Knuckles – smashed through objects that were in his way and shouted, “Get outta my way!”

“That’s what I’m saying,” the blonde muttered.

Deku couldn’t help but giggle. Playing video games with Kacchan was always interesting, but in this particular case, his losing consistently was just funny to him. It was a racing game – it shouldn’t have been that hard. But more than that, it was a team racing game. And that’s what was making his friend lose so much. Bakugou was nothing if not a lone wolf.

“Why are my teammates so far behind?” he complained as they began the third lap.

“If they’re behind, send them items to help out,” Deku replied, breezing through the level with ease in first place. His teammates were second and third. It was smooth sailing for them.

“Ugh, losers.” Bakugou pressed a key on his keyboard. “Here, take the dang cube. It’s useless anyway.”

Deku bit back yet another giggle as he sailed over the finish line, his teammates right behind him. Several seconds later, Bakugou crossed in sixth place with his teammates in seventh and tenth. When the scores were tallied, Deku grinned across the table at him. “Looks like I’m gonna win this one, too.”

“Shut up. We still have three grand prixs to go, nerd.”

“I know, but even if you win all three of them we’ll be tied in the end.”

“I said shut up!”

As predicted, Deku won the third grand prix. Then he went on to win the fourth as well. At this point, Bakugou was just trying to win a race.

“Move or get run over!” Knuckles shouted at his opponents.

“Yeah, what he said!” Bakugou added, staring at his screen intensely, really getting into it now. He was actually doing pretty well; this track was a bit harder for Deku’s character’s racer type, so he was actually in fourth place while Bakugou was in second. The entire race, the blonde was ahead. Then suddenly – on the last lap – Silver whipped out in front of him and crossed the finish line in first place yet again.

Bakugou whipped his head up to glare at Deku. “What was that?!”

“Team Ultimate, baby!” Deku cried, fist pumping the air. “I win again! Let’s go!”

“Come on, you bunch of losers! I thought Sonic was supposed to be the fastest thing alive! Why’s he so slow?”

With every race that went by that he lost, Bakugou grew more and more frustrated with himself. But at the same time, watching Deku grow increasingly elated with every win and even get cocky about it was fascinating to him. The nerd was never arrogant; that was part of the reason he irritated Bakugou so much. But it seemed with video games, humility went out the window.

Finally the last grand prix rolled around. This time Bakugou was doing really well, keeping up with Deku and giving him and his team a run for their money. His teammates played a lot better; it was as if Sonic had heard him and stepped up his game. When the last race rolled around, it was entirely up to the results of this track who won the grand prix overall.

Deku’s team won by one point.

“One point?!” Bakugou yelled, jumping out of his seat and throwing his hands in the air. “One point? Are you kidding me?”

“Oh, yeah!” Deku cried at the same time, not only jumping out of his seat but beginning to do a victory dance of sorts around the table. “I won! I won every grand prix! All six of them!”

Bakugou stared, watching his rival dance around with all the arrogance that was usually something he himself would show off instead. Frustrated as he was, he begrudgingly let Deku have his moment – until the nerd finished his victory lap around the table and began to take another one.

“That’s it!” Bakugou roared, lunging at the green-haired boy and tackling him to the floor. “You cheated somehow! There’s no way you were that good!”

Deku continued to laugh even as he was pinned to the ground. “Haha! Don’t hate the player, hate the ga-HAME!” He shrieked, suddenly bursting into loud laughter and struggling against his friend. “NAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! KACCHAHAHAHAHAN DOHOHOHOHOHOHON’T!!”

“This is payback for not only beating me in almost every single race we just played,” Bakugou growled as he drilled relentlessly into Deku’s hips, “but for being so dang cocky about it!”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I’M SORRYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!” Deku cried, laughing openly even as he squirmed and tried to tap out. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

“I’m not satisfied yet.” Bakugou grinned and moved to straddle his thighs so he couldn’t kick or roll around anymore. This made Deku even more hysterical than before.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! KACCHAN!!”

“Oh, no. I’m not stopping. You’ll just have to deal with it, Deku.” The atomic blonde smirked and leaned in closer to his rival’s face, knowing perfectly well he was about to be even meaner and not caring in the slightest. “Tickle, tickle, tickle, little nerd.”

For the briefest of moments, Deku’s laughter went silent from the teasing. Then it came back even stronger and more desperate than before. He begged and screamed and laughed, but Bakugou wasn’t letting him off that easy. He kept up his merciless assault on the smaller hero’s hips – yes, he was staying on his worst spot on purpose – and kept up his teasing until Deku was red in the face and crying with laughter.

“Plehehehehehehehehease!” Deku wheezed, his hysterics coming out in breathless gasps at this point. “Stahahahahahahahap, p-plehehease, I c-cahahahahan’t tahahahahahake it anymohohore!”

Finally satisfied that he’d thoroughly wrecked the nerd with tickles, Bakugou stopped, but didn’t climb off of him. Not just yet.

“Since when do you get so high and mighty when you win games?” he demanded.

“S-Sohorry,” Deku replied in a breathless giggle, still catching his breath. “I couldn’t help it. You were just…just so bad at it…I thought it was funny and it made me kind of silly.” He smiled sheepishly. “You just need more practice is all.”

“Oh, spare me.” Bakugou rolled his eyes and finally stood up, letting Deku pull himself back to his feet as well. He closed out the game, shut down his laptop, and tucked it under his arm. “Next time I’m taking you down, nerd.”

“And if I beat you again?” Deku challenged, grinning as he shut down his own laptop. “Are you going to tickle me to death again?”

Bakugou couldn’t help but let out a laugh of his own. “Not to death. I still want to fight you at one-hundred percent. But probably within an inch of your life, yes.”

“Maybe I’ll just…let you win next time.”

“Don’t you dare go easy on me, you little--!”

Deku spent the next several minutes running away from Kacchan and his laptop and his wrath, laughing all the while as his friend shouted threats and curses at him from behind – not unlike the racing game they’d just finished playing.

[buckstaposition]

La Bañadera

inspired by this brilliant idea by the brilliant and wonderful @opheliaelysia so Jess, this is for you 🥰

Javier Peña x reader oneshot

summary: Javi comes home from work stressed and exhausted, so you run him a bath to help him relax

tags/warnings: intimacy, softness, non-sexual nudity, a wee bit of suggestive flirting/banter because it’s Javi, kisses

words: 1473

La Bañadera

You attribute it to the fact that you’ve gotten to know each other better than either of you intended. Because whatever this thing between the two of you is, it means you can hear from the sound of his voice how beat he is. And it means he knew you’d be at his place, thanks to the spare key he’d slipped into your hand a while back ‘just in case’. And it means he’d thought to call, to warn you that he’d be late tonight – ‘half an hour tops’ – really not so long as to be cause for concern in his job, but he’s been brought up right and he’s thoughtful when it counts.

‘Don’t worry about it’ you’d said into the pause of his earnest contrition, a plan already forming in your mind.

The sun is bathing the horizon in deep pinks and purples when the door clicks open. You shut off the tap and rise, peeking your head out of the bathroom with a soft smile. Javi looks even worse than he sounded, shoulders tense and still walking with the slightest limp after the foot chase after Franklin Jurado. ‘I think I might bet getting too old for this’ he’d said after he’d come back from that, trying to conceal the pain as always. You’d spotted it though. You feel like something has aligned your perception and narrowed it to all things concerning Javier Peña.

“Hey.” His voice is just a tired rasp at this point. He sways, but his lips still search for yours when you step close to push the suit jacket from his sloping shoulders. “Sorry about dinner.”

You shush him with a quick peck, wave away those petty concerns as you undo the tie that he hates having to wear. The first button of his shirt is already undone; it always is. He toes off his shoes at the same time you pull the tie out from his shirt collar and sags against you, just the slightest bit. Cups your cheek, the tips of his long fingers curling almost around the back of your neck. Smiling still, you turn your head to kiss his palm, his fluttering pulse thrumming under his wrist.

“Come,” you say simply and lead him back to the bathroom. It’s not especially nice or spacious, but there is a tub and you’ve tried to set the mood with some candles and soft music. The tub sits there, steaming and expectant under its blanket of bubbles.

He huffs out a small burst of a laugh, raising his brows at you. “I didn’t forget something, did I? Anniversary or birthday or-“

“You’d forget your own birthday, you big oaf.” You scold him gently as you push him to sit on the closed toilet lid. He’s swaying so much with exhaustion he probably doesn’t even notice it anymore. You start with the buttons on his shirt sleeves, small and fiddly. “It’s nothing special but you need a break. To relax a bit, even just for a night, okay?”

He hums. Lets himself be handled like a ragdoll as you undress him. His eyes fall closed – another testament to his exhaustion.

“Smells nice.” His voice is so quiet now you barely catch it over the rustling of clothes and the soft crooning of the stereo. “Lavender?”

“It’s the bubble bath you gave me for my birthday.” You explain softly. Yes, he’d forget his own birthday, but not yours. And it’s not like you two have anything like an anniversary. For that to be the case you’d have to admit that there was something between you, would have to put a name on this fragile, intangible thing you have.

“Get in, I’ll be right back.” He pouts a bit but obliges you. Gathers his long limbs and climbs into the tub with minimal sloshing. When you come back, stool in hand, he’s sitting in the water, his back a tense sloping curve. It’s then that you abandon your original plan and take off your sleep shorts. Contemplate for a moment before the tank top joins them. Javi cracks open one eye, never too tired to appreciate the sight of you in nothing but your underwear.

“Oh, you joining me?” He winks, tongue swiping over his bottom lip absent-mindedly. Any other time you’d be more than happy to indulge, but tonight is about him alone. You roll your eyes playfully.

“Scoot.” You order, swinging one leg over the edge of the tub. He obliges you, always obliges you. You climb onto the ledge at the head end of the tub that’s only just wide enough for you to sit, squished to the wall and keeping your legs wide enough that he can comfortably fit his broad shoulders between them. He catches your hand, kisses the knuckles as he leans back, letting his head pillow on your thigh. The tub is too small and his knees poke out, or his feet, but you make do. The water is hot and already you can feel him melt into it, muscles loosening up. You help the process along by digging your thumbs into the rigid muscle at the base of his neck, making you both groan from how hard you have to press to have any effect.

“Fucking hell Javi, when did you last relax?” You’re starting to feel it in your arms now, how you have to work at kneading away his tensions and stresses. Still, you do it gladly knowing you’re doing something good for him. Your hands fan out the whole width of his coiled shoulders that bear so much.

“Uuh… 1986 I think.” He mumbles, eyes closed and one large hand wrapped around your ankle under the water, rubbing gentle circles into your skin.

You sigh. His self-deprecation is a topic for another day, and it punches you out of left field suddenly, just how much you care about him. His well-being. His happiness. It punches the air right out of you with its sudden clarity. Unaware, he tilts his head to press a lazy kiss to your knee, and all you can do is focus on the way the water droplets pearl across his collar bones, collect in the hollow of his throat.

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

“And you’re not supposed to be thinking at all.” You chide him gently. “Could you hand me those?” You gesture at the pitcher and shampoo bottle you’d prepared beforehand and placed for when you’d planned to sit on the stool beside the tub. From your current position you can’t reach them without some wild contortions, but Javi swipes them up easily, handing the items to you.

You cup the back of his neck, encouraging him to lean back, then dip the plastic pitcher in the warm water. He sighs when you let it run over his hair, body sagging just that final bit further into the bath. You take your time thoroughly wetting his dark curls, then lathering the shampoo through them. Let your nails scratch lightly, especially at that spot right behind his ear that makes him purr like some big tomcat in the perfect spot of afternoon sunlight. He’s gone almost completely boneless now, just floating in the slowly cooling water. Even the slow caress of your ankle has ceased, though he still holds it ever so lightly. He’s so handsome, his striking profile in the golden glow of the candles, that permanent pinch between his brows finally dissipated. If not for the way his mouth curves up in the tiniest of content smiles you’d think he had fallen asleep. You think it might be close to that. You lean down, press a kiss to his brow, to his cheek, then the other, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, not caring that shampoo gets on your chest. That’s why you’d taken your top off, after all.

“Almost done.” You murmur, and Javi gives only the softest hum in acknowledgement. Gently, you rinse the shampoo from his hair, taking care to massage through the strands until it’s all out. He’s completely pliant in your hands, trusting to a fault, but you’d never betray that. It’s hard earned and you only want good things for him.

“Come on now.” You reach for the fluffy towels you’d set aside earlier, only half-unintentionally tickling his side with your toes as you do. He jumps a bit, pinning your leg to his side with one long arm on instinct.

“Oh, you’re trouble.” Now he’s got both your legs in his grip and a dangerous glint in his half-lidded eyes. Just one tug and you’d be down in the water yourself.

“Don’t you dare.” You dangle the smaller of the towels in front of him. “Why don’t you dry off and I’ll show you just how much trouble I can be.”

---

taglist:  @thewayofthemandalorian @opheliaelysia @cinewhore @heatherbel 

@agirllovespancakes @pascalisthepunkest @aasimarr @knittingqueen13​ 

@thirstworldproblemss​

[lilbabycee]

groceries // chris evans

↳ request: If requests are open, can I have a bratty reader who openly flirts with another man in front of Chris (with some condescension and degrading calling her a whore etc)

↳ relationship: chris evans x reader

↳ word count: 1.6k

↳ author’s note: requests are open but other than that, i am still a whore thank you and goodnight x

oh here we go i’m excited:

you and chris both enjoy the domesticity of grocery shopping a little more than you’d like to admit

your pouty lips are like sugar and voice like honey when you beg him to get that candy or those cookies you love so much

he likes to pretend that he won’t cave into your pretty eyes and longing gaze by telling you “no, sweetheart” and walking right past it

but he knows he can’t resist you for long, your glassy eyes threatening tears and he can’t bear the thought of seeing you cry

(although he knows that you’re just being a brat)

and so there’s nothing sweeter than his acquiescence: “okay, baby, go back and grab it”

and you won’t ever act like it, but any public outing provides you with the prime opportunity to mess with your boyfriend

your arms are overflowing with an assortment of fruits that chris sent you ahead to get while he was looking at the wide assortment of vegetables two aisles behind you

and although you cockily insisted that you didn’t need the cart or a basket, you’re definitely regretting your unnecessary stubbornness right about now

the strawberries and the grapes fall from the bottom and your eyes fall shut as you groan loudly, ready to have to go back and get new ones when the heat of a body crowds yours and you don’t hear the telltale sound of plastic against the linoleum

you assume that it’s chris coming to save you from yourself but instead, a mop of curly black hair almost tickles your nose and a pair of pretty lips curve into a smile

he’s got these light brown eyes that come close to knocking the breath out of you and you think that he’s gorgeous

(but still not as attractive as your man)

“i think you dropped these,” he teases, lifting a thick eyebrow as his eyes flit over your face appreciatively

“yeah”, the word comes out breathless because you can’t stop looking at his face but you still manage to smile shyly

and so he tells you his name and you tell him yours and he can’t stop talking about how pretty you are

before you know it, it’s been a full fifteen minutes and chris - who told you to come back when you were done - thinks that you’ve been gone for a suspiciously long time and comes looking for you

he’s expecting to find you with your arms crossed over your chest pensively or your face between your hands because you can’t decide what you want

(either way he thinks you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen)

but then he rounds the corner and almost trips over the cart because you’re standing at the end of the aisle next to some guy that he’s never seen before holding an armful of what he assumes is your fruit, and he can’t help the way that his brow furrows and his mouth sets in a hard line

he can’t describe the incensed feeling that grows in his chest but he knows that it’s more that jealousy because you’re letting this man stand so close to you and touch your arm like that

a part of him knows that it’s the lingering insecurity that lives deep within the pit of his stomach but instead of letting it cripple him, he allows it to fuel his anger, virtually stomping down the row of shelves towards you

you reluctantly turn your head at the noise of feet walking in your direction, a lingering smile still on your face that immediately drops when you meet the eyes of your furious boyfriend

trepidation seeps into your bones, a poison that corrodes at the marrow and causes your limbs to go completely slack

it’s when all of your produce drops to the floor that the handsome stranger finally stops staring at you, spinning around only for that same stare to land on the very angry brunette coming your way

“chris,” you can’t help but cower slightly when his thundercloud of rage looms over you.  

he says nothing but he shoots you a murderous glare before pulling you into his side roughly, hand immediately coming to rest on your butt

you expected this but not the searing kiss that he bruises onto your lips, leaving you breathless as he squeezes the flesh of your ass in his palms

“hi, i’m chris,” he sticks his hand out with a raised brow, the warning look in his eyes a complete contrast to the warm smile on his face

he’s glowing with pride and he’s so hot but you can’t stop staring at the discarded fruit on the floor so as to not have to meet the eyes of the curly-haired man in front of you

“oh, i didn’t realize-”

“that’s okay, buddy,” chris smiles tightly. “thanks for helpin’ my girl out.”

and that’s all he says before snatching up the fruit from james? jonathan? jonah?’s arms and strolling cockily back to your abandoned cart

you walk quickly behind him, gnawing on your lower lip and refusing to acknowledge josiah? jamie? jared?’s parting remark

“i guess i’ll see you around-”

“no you won’t,” chris calls over his shoulder, grabbing you round the waist again after putting the fruit down and pushing the cart around the corner

the rest of the shopping trip goes off pretty much without a hitch

(save from a small disagreement over milk)

but you don’t prepare for what happens when you’re finished loading groceries into the car and sitting quietly in the passenger’s seat, staring out of the window contently because you’re so sure that you’ve gotten away with it

it’s when chris slides into the car and doesn’t say anything that you look over at your boyfriend, audibly gasping at how blown his pupils are

“is my little whore ready to go home?” he says nonchalantly, looking away from you to turn the key in the ignition

“what?!” you exclaim indignantly (except you’re not mad because a thrill runs through you at what you know is coming next). “i-i was a good girl-”

“don’t lie to me, baby,” he coos, engine on but he evidently has no intention of going anywhere just yet. “i saw how much you liked talking to that boy. being a little slut right in front of daddy- what, you tryna make me jealous, babygirl?”

“no- he was my friend-”

“okay, honey,” he says, still not moving and looking deep into your darting eyes

“really?” you ask, confused and a little disappointed because is he just going to drop it?

but you should know by now that your man isn’t like that

“of course not,” he sneers and the butterflies in your stomach come alive all over again. “stupid little slut - think i’m gonna let you get off with bein’ a whore in public? hmm, baby?”

“no, sir,” you reply, licking your lips and shifting in your seat, heat pooling in your core as you try to hide a smile by squeezing your lips together  

“my bad little girl,” a large hand falls on your thigh and you shiver, placing your hand over his as he rubs tenderly at the skin there. “such a dumb baby, huh?”

you nod eagerly, attempting to school your features into an expression that projects innocence and repentance because you know you’re going to get the punishment of a lifetime when you get home

“maybe i should fuck you right here,” he muses, hand absent-mindedly trailing to the inside of your thighs to press the heel of his palm to your clit

your legs automatically fall further open and you arch your back into the pressure while he runs a sole finger over the seam of your cunt

(no, you’re not wearing panties under your dress because he told you not to and you always listen to your boyfriend)

“so eager, sweetheart,” he hums, eyes focused exclusively on the task at hand. “did you wanna show that boy what an eager little slut you are?”

you plan to answer - you really do - but his finger dips into your pussy and your brain forgets how to function

almost directly after, another finger joins the first and your boyfriend is casually finger-fucking you in a semi-crowded grocery store parking lot

(the jury’s still out on whether or not this makes you even more horny)

“oh, baby,” chris laughs, eyes now locked on yours that are staring right back at him. “you’re so close already - i didn’t realize how much of a whore you were for that boy... or is this all for me? are you making a mess all over my car seats because you like getting fucked in the parking lot of a grocery store?”

(you decide that yes, this is absolutely why chris is going to need to thoroughly clean his car when you get home)

but you can’t articulate any of that so you just nod again, making chris laugh and causing a combination of pleasure and shame to wash over you

he leans over the console, attaching his lips to your neck and continuing his assault on your pussy - he’s sucking a trail of dark bruises into your skin and you love it, eyelashes fluttering rapidly as his lips move to your jaw and then your ear

“go on, baby,” chris smiles against your cheek. “cum for me, it’s okay. i won’t make you beg this time - i know that once anything gets in this tight little pussy, you don’t know how to act... that’s okay, honey. you can cum, it’s okay.”

and so you do, his voice coaxing you over the edge and the moment you do, chris gasps right into your ear and then chuckles deeply

“look, sweetheart, there’s your little friend - say hi!”

you meet those brown eyes and your entire body heats up in shame - the look on his face would be hilarious in literally any other situation but it makes you feel a little sick and slightly aroused (?)

once you’ve finally come down from your high and jules? jake? jasper? manages to tear his eyes away from the two of you (chris waves at him and you smack him on the arm because what the fuck)

your boyfriend promptly sticks his fingers into his mouth as you peel your sticky body from the leather seat beneath you - you’re panting and unsure if you’ll even be able to walk when you get out of the car

meanwhile, chris adjusts the mirror and his hands land on the wheel before he shoots you a disapproving glance

“seatbelt, baby.”

tagged: @literaturefeen​ @donutloverxo​

[noonawriter]

Find Me In The Club

Word Count:2255

Warnings: Cursing, Alcohol, Car Sex, No Protection (wrap it before you tap it)

Jongin was feeling himself.

Not literally mind you.  His outfit was on point. Black, tailored slacks, polished wingtips, and a white button down dress shirt rolled up mid-forearm was the latest of the goodies an up and coming designer had sent him. Several of his signature rings and his cologne had him walking taller for some reason. Tonight, he was going to scope out the new club across town. Mysterium was its name and if the hype was true, there would be a line down the block. He pulled up to the valet, tipping the young man a crisp fifty “Take care of her please” as he walked up to the velvet rope separating the line from the excitement inside. The bouncer almost sent him away. Almost. 

“Kai, is that you?” The bouncer squinted in his direction. He continued, “Dude. It’s great to see you man. When did you get back?”  

Kai chuckled, “Last night. How’ve you been?” 

The big man grinned,  “Just fine man. Thanks to your company, I’ve got the head position here. I just so happened to give the guy at the door a break. Come on in man.  It’s wild in there”. Kai shot him a smile, gave him a fist bump and pushed on through the crowd. He was met with a  heavy oak door. The title of the club engraved in the dark wood. It was smooth to the touch and he could almost feel the music from the otherside.

The pounding bass from the dance track could be felt deep within his soul. A sly smirk graced his face as he stared out at the dance floor. Packed with gorgeous people; the bodies moved in time to the beat.  

He saw all types. Barely legal to mid life crisis. Stick figured models dressed to kill all the way to big, beautiful ladies owning their outfits. He saw hands on hips, shoulders, asses and up in the air. Licking his lips, he took in the site before him with a pleased sigh. Tonight was going to be interesting. 

The bar was on the other side of the dance floor and he was thirsty so he began the trek through the writhing bodies.  He swayed with the beat as he worked his way through the sweaty crowd, pausing to dance occasionally. One woman in particular found her way in his path grinning sensually. 

“Hi handsome.”  He mouthed his greeting trying to get around her but she wouldn’t move. Her hands sneaking around his biceps and to his back to run down his shirt. She leaned in giving him a clear view of her cleavage; thighs exposed more than he preferred. “Dance with me” she said. It was clear she wasn’t going to leave until he played her game. He was more than willing to play along, to an extent. 

His hands grasped her hips, causing her to let out a wanton moan.  He pulled her close bringing his lips to the shell of her ear. “Nah.  I’m good”.  He spun her around and side stepped; leaving her behind with a chuckle playing on his lips. He heard the huff and sigh. The bar was now in his site so he focused on finding a good spot and what he wanted to drink.  

After finding a stool at the corner of the bar, he sat with his back to the wall, taking advantage of the prime spot to people-watch. The bartender came over to ask what he wanted but recognized him immediately. 

 “Back so soon, Kai?” He nodded and smiled brightly enjoying himself. When his drink got back to him, he sipped slowly and took a deep breath. Just because he was alone after being with his boys on tour didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun. He took in the view. The dance floor had cleared up slightly. And one woman in particular caught his eye. 

You wore a dark navy dress that hugged your body in all the right places.  Thin straps on your shoulders showed off your lithe upper body. The hem stopped mid thigh showcasing your long dancer legs. The back dipped dangerously low to the small of your back, hinting at the artwork carefully placed there.  The red bottom shoes you wore accentuated your ass.  Your hips swayed side to side to the beat; rolling gracefully. Your hair was pinned up messily on your head with a random piece here and there hanging down.

His eyes were drawn to you automatically. He was on the hunt and had just found his prey. Leaving his perch at the bar, he began to wind through the crowd looking for you. When you weren’t where he originally spotted you, his eyes darted around to find the beauty he’d spotted moments before.  

He heard a voice call out, “Just stop. Back off please.”  There was a slight panic behind the steel of your voice and it worried him. It sounded like you.  He followed his instincts and saw you and some random creep trying to dance sloppily with you.  His grubby hands on your hips, trying to pull you closer as your hands beat against his chest to push him off. His vision went red.  It was bad enough you were having to tell him to stop.  It was a completely different thing when he wouldn’t listen. 

He slipped in behind the unassuming male, placing his own hands on the guy’s hips and gripping tightly.  “What the…” the man called out.  He jerked around, eyes wider than saucers when he realized another man had his hands on him.  The stranger let go of you pushing back and turning in Kai’s grip.  

The stranger grabbed Kai’s hands and yanked them off, “Seriously dude?  What gives? That’s gross man.” 

“Yea it is.  Just like what you’re doing to her.”  Kai’s knowing look made the strange man huff and stalk away. He looked around to locate you.  You were standing to the side, eyeing him.  He plastered on his most charming smile and carefully approached. 

“Call it a long shot, but would you like to dance?”  You nod and take his hand as he led you to another section of the dance floor.  His hands made their way to your hips cautiously.  The EDM beats began to surge through the nearby speakers.  “Is this ok?  Tell me to stop and I will.” 

His words tickled your ear as he spoke, trying to be louder than the music.  You simply nodded enjoying his comforting aura.  Her body turned with a cat-like grace as you sank into his hold, swaying your hips to the music.  He timed his body with yours and together you both got lost in the trance inducing tunes.  

Your hands laced around his neck and latched into his hair, gently massaging his scalp.  His hands ran the length of your hips and thighs in random patterns; sometimes hard, sometimes soft.  You laid your head back on his shoulder allowing the milky expanse of your neck to open up to him.  Instinct drew him to the unblemished skin, tracing his lips on it from your collarbone to your ear lobe and everywhere in between; leaving open-mouthed kisses along the way.

A moan escaped your lips and he just happened to hear it.  He was already half hard and he was getting closer to full hardness with every move you made.  It made him grip you a little tighter.  You ground her hips against his faster and firmer, feeling his length through the dress pants he was wearing.  One or two songs turned into seven or eight as they lost themselves in the moment, dancing with each other.  

When he noticed the sweat on your brow, an idea formulated in his head.  His lips worked their way from your neck to the pulse point below your ear, taking his time to make purple petal shaped  marks.  His hands traveled dangerously low, playing with the hem of your dress. You shivered when his lips finally made contact with the shell of your ear. 

“Let’s get out of here, yea?”  A whine left your lips unashamedly as you thought of all the things you two could do.  You nodded a bit too enthusiastically and he chuckled at the site. He took your hand and led you outside.

Once the cool air hit you both, you took a deep, cleansing breath and surveyed him. The two of you had only danced together and still looked thoroughly fucked out.  Your hair was partially out of its hold, dress strap slightly off center and the hem of your skirt riding higher than it should be.  

His pupils were blown with lust, his shirt damp with sweat, pants bulging with his stiff length confined inside.  

The valet offered to get the car but Kai shook his head.  “No thanks,” Kai said. After taking his keys, he bent over and scooped you over his shoulder; taking off at a brisk pace to his car. You giggled, “Put me down. I can walk you know.”  Your words were intended to sound firm but you couldn’t help the laughter.  Something about this entire moment felt so right.  

His palm cupped your ass firmly to keep you from squirming about.  A moment later, you found yourself in the furthest portion of the parking lot as he punched the button on the remote.  A beep sounded and he stooped down to get you back on your feet.  He opened the door, making a show of it.  

“Ladies first.” He bowed deeply, sweeping his hand in a grand gesture.  

“Why thank you, kind sir.” You put one of your knees on the seat and crawled away from him while wiggling your ass to put on a show.  He growled, deep and rumbling.He wasted no time; jumping in behind you. Tossing the keys in the driver's seat, he yanked his button down from his pants and tossed his phone to the front seat. 

“If you value the dress you’re wearing, you might want to take it off before I take it off for you.”  His low growl made you yelp as you tugged and pulled it off your body, leaving her in nothing but a pair of grey lacy panties.  She began to pull them off but his hands reached out to stop her.  “Leave them. Those are fucking hot.”  

He paused for a moment to take in the sight before him.  You were on your knees, chest heaving with deep breaths.  His arms reached around behind you to pull the pins from your hair allowing it to cascade down around your shoulders.  The image of you biting your lip made his dick twitch.  

You scooted closer, running your hands down his bare torso, fingertips leaving trails of fire in their wake.  You made quick work of his belt and pants, working them down his thighs to discover he’d forgone underwear.  His dick stood at attention; looking painfully hard, pre-cum leaking from the swollen tip.

You wrapped your hand around his throbbing length gently, teasing tugs bringing him to a level he’d never achieved before.  His large hand wrapped around your wrist pulling it away from his dick.  She looked at him confused.

He quickly adjusted their positions; him seated and you straddling his thighs.  His fingers pushing your underwear to the side.  “I need you now. I cannot wait until we get back to my place.” 

As he spoke, one hand gripped your hips as the other hand worked on your soaking folds; lewd noises telling him you were more than ready.  Her whimpers as you rocked your hips on the fingers knuckle deep in your sopping heat.  

“You’re so wet babe.  Just for me.  All for me.”  Your eyes screwed shut, tight grip on his shoulders.  He worked you a little bit more before withdrawing his hand, leaving you to clench around nothing.  A disappointed whine left your lips as you looked at him questioningly.  He smirked and eased the tip between your folds, allowing you to sink down slowly, savoring the feeling of his thick length.  

You both groaned simultaneously as he kept still; giving you time to adjust.

“You really need to move.” Kai said huskily.  

You nodded, capturing his lips. You experimented with the pace at first.  Agonizingly slow to start out, feeling every bump and vein along his shaft, you realized he fit you perfectly. His lips attacked yours, clashing in a fight for dominance as his hands tried to guide your hips to a quicker pace. Once his fingers found your clit again, you were putty in his arms.  He planted his feet and took over, thrusting into you hard and fast.  Your whines began to morph into screams as you were teetering on the edge of an orgasm.  

“Fuck, don’t stop.  I’m al..”  He pulled back from you to watch the orgasm take over your body.  Just the sight of you writhing in pleasure over him was enough to push him to that same precipice.  Your velvet walls sucking him in tightly with each pulse of your orgasm and your moans added fuel to the fire.  He came without warning, holding you tight.

You collapsed against his chest, breathing heavily.  “Damn Jongin. That was hot.  This role playing idea really worked.”  

He grinned cheekily, “I knew it would babe. Lets kinda clean up and get home for round two in the shower.”  His eyebrows wiggled as you laughed at him. 

“Love you babe.” 

“Love you more.”

[narcissasdaffodil]

New oneshot! This is for a duplicate prompt I had and lost the ask associated with it. Think it was a different ship, but oh well! Put the A03 link for people who prefer A03 reading x

“If it’s all in my head, tell me now.”

Alecto heard footsteps in the flat and shifted under the giant blanket she had curled up under. Sadie was comfortable on her feet, and she closed her eyes, pretending to be entirely asleep. She heard the armchair squeak as Marisol sat down, and she opened one eye, noticing how Marisol appeared occupied, focused on the phone she held to her ear.

“Do you really mean it? You’ve promised me so much, and continually vanish on me. I must matter, at least a little bit to you. If I don’t, then give up. Isabel, I can’t keep dropping things for you, I have a life too.” She sighed loudly and glared at her phone. Wait. That’s her sister. You probably shouldn’t be listening to this.

Alecto moved her foot in an attempt to leave, but Sadie let out a grumpy miaow and refused to move. You didn’t plan for contending with a grumpy cat, huh?

She shut her eyes again and froze, as Marisol looked over in her direction. To her relief, Marisol went back to the phone quickly enough.

“It’s not just me you have to be aware of here. I have a girlfriend now. Alecto also can’t drop everything all the time for people. Besides, I’m not sure if she’d be up for this trip you’re planning. I know I’m not too comfortable myself. Springing shit on people really isn’t a great idea.”

Sadie climbed off Alecto’s feet who shifted slightly and pulled herself into an upright position. She opened one eye again to check Marisol was still occupied, and made her way into the kitchen, pouring a glass of water, and grabbing herself a snack. She hadn’t been able to do much all day, apart from sleeping. She hated being ill, but had the bad timing of catching something. She sneezed loudly and caught it in her elbow, pulling her blanket around her shoulders.

She took her plate and glass of water into the bedroom with her, setting them on the bedside table and taking a seat, cross-legged on the bed. She finished her snack and made her way back into the kitchen, putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. She opened the door to the kitchen, and made her way back to the sofa, avoiding the creaking floorboards and taking a seat again.

Marisol was still occupied by the phone call, so Alecto closed her eyes again and curled up on the sofa. She tried to drift off to sleep, but the noise from the conversation prevented her sleep.

“Considering the fact you’re thinking of doing something for both of our birthdays, you should maybe think of, I don’t know, asking the people you’re planning to treat first. Now, I’m going to have to go, please don’t book anything. Goodbye.”

Alecto heard footsteps come in her direction, and felt a hand on her shoulder. “H...how long have you been there? Were you always on the sofa, and I didn’t see you?” Alecto’s eyes snapped open, and she sneezed, Marisol’s long hair tickling her nose, and her head snapping up, bumping Marisol’s forehead with her nose.

“Oh shit! Oww.” She put a hand to her nose and took it away, stunned at the blood on her hand. “Typical. Today’s not been my day for sure.” She rolled her eyes in frustration, glaring up at Marisol.

“I’m so sorry! Hold on.” Marisol’s cheeks turned bright red and she facepalmed after grabbing the tissue box, sat next to Alecto and held a tissue to her nose. “I’m really sorry, didn’t realise that would happen. Are you okay?”

“Could be better. But it’s funny if anything. I had a bad cold today and your hair tickled my nose, so sneezed, and bumped my nose into your forehead. I’ve never had a nosebleed before, always wanted one.”

“You what?” Marisol stared at her, incredulous.

“Yup, you heard me right. I used to always want a broken limb too. But that was a separate thing, which I don’t want to go into.” Yup. Wanting attention from your bio siblings and mum, as you’d get ignored otherwise.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve already talked about it, but a broken arm at least, hurts a lot. You don’t want that. Trust me. I’m just surprised I didn’t notice you until now. And, that means you heard the conversation, right?” Marisol tilted her head to the side.

“Only your side. Something about birthdays, and trips. Our birthdays are 10 days apart so combining them makes sense on some levels, but I’d prefer to just have a low key thing on my birthday at least.”

Marisol nodded. “I agree. All the birthday fuss isn’t my thing, I just want to spend time with you and order food or something. And personalised gifts over a lot of massive ones. I’ve had many big parties when I was younger, and I definitely hate them. I’m glad you agree there. She was planning on going on a massive trip to Los Angeles, which means planes and staying in somewhere that’s super busy. So I had a feeling you wouldn’t like that.”

“Yeah, good idea. Thanks. Also weird injuries happen to the best of us. I broke my toe with a copy of Les Misérables, having to explain that to people is always weird. I’m glad you sorted that, sorry for listening in. I didn’t mean to, just didn’t want to disturb you with moving, and I’m exhausted.”

“Les Mis is heavy, so that makes sense, oddly. I don’t mind, really. I should’ve checked more thoroughly, you blended in with the sofa. I’m so sorry again about your nose, I’m a slight idiot.” Marisol’s cheeks stayed bright red and she stared at her lap. The blood had stopped, leaving just dried blood around Alecto’s nostrils.

“No, you’re not. It was me who sneezed, and hit my nose into your forehead. Besides, I definitely have you beat in terms of weird injuries. I walked into a glass door when I was younger, that’s where that injury is from.” She points to a scar on her cheek.

“Um…that’s not as bad as my first kiss. Not technically an injury, but I kissed Olivia while we both had braces, and we somehow got attached to each other. That took ages to sort out, I avoided her for weeks after it. And...I forgot my glasses once and head butted someone who tried to kiss me. I’ve got a surprisingly long list of people I’ve accidentally given nose bleeds to. So if you think you’re a slight klutz, I’ve easily done worse.” Marisol bit her lip and fiddled with her hair.

“Maybe we’re perfect for each other then. Both clumsy people. It would be weird dating someone who’s perfect, how boring!” Alecto squeezed her hand and grinned over at her. “Trust me. I’ll be fine, it’s just a cold, and a nose bleed. I’ve done worse myself. I’m not mad at you in the slightest, trust me.”

“Phew. Thanks and you’re so right! That makes me feel much better of being the mess in my family.”

“Look, that’s the same in terms of my biological siblings. Perfect is definitely overrated, I prefer my other siblings, who are chaotic in terms of the weird crap they’ve done, but it’s always entertaining.” Alecto gently stroked Marisol’s hair, as Marisol started to tip. She eventually left her head in Alecto’s lap, who gently stroked it.

“You’re like a cat, aren’t you? I love that, it’s cool.” Marisol’s eyes closed as she drifted off in Alecto’s lap.

[isis-astarte-diana]

The Piano Lesson

Summary: “Personally, I’ve always favoured the carrot and stick approach to education.” When Missy agreed to teach you to play piano, this wasn’t quite what you had in mind.

Warnings: NSFW. Little bit of sadomasochism but nothing heavy. Possibly dub!con or under-negotiated kink if you squint. On the whole, it’s basically fluff with Missy being a soft!domme.

Word Count: 2390

NB: A long time ago @softlilith​​ said something about a piano and a riding crop and this idea was born. It’s set somewhere between Vault Night and Handmaiden and has been sitting, unfinished, in my Google Docs for weeks. I threw in some praise kink for this anon, too! What was supposed to be porn turned into a bizarre ode to trust, vulnerability and things left unsaid. (Why am I like this?)

“No, dearest. Not like that.”

Missy’s hands flutter about your own, lifting your wrists, adjusting your fingers on the keys with tender precision. A strand of her hair tickles your cheek. She’s leaning over you where you sit at the piano bench, pressed close enough to your back to make your pulse quicken.

“There.” She taps the index finger of your right hand. “This note first.”

“Got it.” You drag your bottom lip between your teeth, flexing your hand, rehearsing the movements. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Her fingers ghost over your arms as she withdraws, giving you room to play. “Try it again. From the top.”

You take it slowly, managing the familiar first few bars of Für Elise at half tempo, fighting to ignore the slow click of her heels while she circles the piano. Her keen eyes don’t leave you for an instant.

The sound of a flat note breaking the melody makes you flinch. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise. These things take time.” This unruffled patience is an odd change of pace for her. While you’re getting more frustrated by the second, infuriated by the way your clumsy fingers miss their mark and your mind stutters over the sheet music, she seems to be thoroughly enjoying her role as tutor. Even the most hideous-sounding mistakes don’t make her twitch. “Do you know where you went wrong?”

“I think so.” She raises an eyebrow and gestures for you to continue. “I, um, misread the music. That should have been a G sharp.”

“Very good.” Her tone makes you shiver. “You’re learning. Once more, from that bar.”

It takes your hands a moment to catch up with your eyes, finding the right keys to correct your mistake. She counts you in with three raps of her knuckles against the piano’s closed lid.

Slower, this time, you repeat the bar, managing to progress a bit further before another slip of your treacherous fingers interrupts you. “Fuck,” you snap, dropping your hands from the keys.

“Language, poppet,” she reminds you, coming to stand at your side. “You’re doing very well. You’ll get there.”

“I can’t do it, Missy.” Your voice is petulant, embarrassing you almost as much as your amateur playing. “I might as well give up for the day.”

“Oh, now, don’t be so defeatist,” she chastises gently, slipping her fingers under your chin to tilt your head towards her. There’s an encouraging quirk to her painted lips. “Faint heart never won fair maid.”

“I’m making a fool out of myself.”

“You are not.” She presses a soft kiss to your forehead, tickling at the sensitive skin under your jaw until you squeak and duck your head. “I’m very proud of you, dear.”

“But I keep getting it wrong.”

“You do,” she agrees, meeting your eyes again. Ashamed, you try to avert your gaze, but she follows. “But that’s how we learn.”

“Can we start with something easier?” You smile weakly. “Frère Jacques, or something? I feel like I’ve been thrown in at the deep end a bit, here.”

“Did you expect anything less from me?”

In fact, you hadn’t expected her to agree to teach you at all. The way her eyes lit up when you asked had taken you entirely by surprise. She tuts sympathetically, giving you a wide smile that shows her teeth.

“We can always try another way.”

Your brow furrows. “Like what?”

“Well,” she tucks a stray hair behind your ear and you shiver. “I can give you some more firm guidance.”

“Firm?” It’s breathless, more pleading than questioning.

“Of course.” Missy leans closer, her nose brushing yours. “Would you like that?”

The question is loaded in a way that you can’t quite grasp. It makes your neck prickle with goosebumps. “I think so.”

Her eyes crinkle at the corners. “My very good girl.”

She kisses you, gentle but fervent, trailing her fingertips along the nape of your neck. A tremor runs the length of your body, twitching through you from fingers to toes. She chuckles as she pulls away.

“Personally,” she moves to stand behind you, placing her hands on your shoulders, “I’ve always favoured the carrot and stick approach to education.” You swallow hard, mouth suddenly dry. “I think you’ll respond quite well to that.”

“What do I do?”

She strokes down both arms, carefully repositioning your hands. You can feel her pressed against your back. “Play it again. All the way through.”

“But I- I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” she reassures. “If you make a mistake, just carry on. Otherwise you get very good at the beginning,” a soft kiss to the side of your head and a conspiratorial whisper, “and not so good at the rest.”

You wait a moment for her to step away but she doesn’t, keeping her palms resting over your shoulders and her abdomen tight against your back. Heart in your throat, you start to play.

The first mistake makes you falter. Missy taps your shoulder with one finger. “Carry on,” she reminds you, not unkindly, and you do.

It’s slow going but you make it to the end of the piece. Each false note has you wincing but, on the whole, you do feel more accomplished having completed it. You tilt your head to see her and she grins down at you.

“Well done, poppet,” she coos, chucking you under the chin, igniting you with pleasure at her praise. “Now, up you get.”

It surprises you. “I can do it again.” She smooths the confused frown from your lips with her thumb.

“You will, in a moment. First,” taking your hand in hers, she pulls you gently to your feet. “Let me give you some help. Take off your clothes.”

“I- um,” it’s a flustered squeak. “How will that help?”

She speaks as if it’s the most natural request in the world. “Well, they’ll get in the way otherwise.”

“Of... playing the piano?”

“Of the stick.”

You eye her suspiciously for a moment and she raises an expectant brow. “Fine,” you concede, beginning to disrobe.

Once you’re down to your underwear, you fold your clothes tidily and pile them underneath the piano. Mess has its place in the vault - a small act of rebellion - but you get the impression that she isn’t looking for that just now.

“Keep going.”

With a theatrical sigh, you reach for the clasp of your bra. “And just to be clear, you’re very sure that this is still about learning the piano?”

She grins wolfishly. “Cross my hearts, I have only the most chaste of intentions.” The way she drags a finger across her chest, marking two looping X shapes, makes your heart flutter. “Chop chop, now, there’s a good girl.”

It’s cool enough to make you shiver, crossing your arms awkwardly over your naked body. Missy’s eyes flitting over you from head to toe don’t help. “What now?” You’re aiming for accusatory but it comes out timid.

“Now,” she eases your arms down to your sides and guides you forwards with a hand in the small of your back until your stomach brushes the edge of the piano. The glossy surface of it feels cold. “Put your hands like this.”

Close at your back, she positions your hands on the lid, shoulder-width apart. Her hips cradle yours. You’re glad to be facing away from her as heat rises in your cheeks.

“Very good.” You can’t supress a sigh when her lips brush your bare shoulder. “Now bend over.”

Your pulse seems to skip. “Missy...”

“Do you want to learn?” She kisses your earlobe.

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then let me teach you.” Gentle hands land on your hips. “Bend over the piano.”

Beneath your breasts and stomach the piano lid is chilly. The shock, combined with the way your arse is pushed out against the warmth of her thighs through the wool skirt, makes you inhale sharply. She swipes her palm tenderly across your back.

“That’s my girl. Feet a bit wider apart, now.”

You wince as you widen your stance, acutely aware of the way it exposes you, the brush of cool air and coarse wool against your labia.

“Perfect.”

She steps away and you hear her boots clicking down the steps from the platform. You twist awkwardly to look over your shoulder.

“Eyes forward,” she says firmly, and you reluctantly obey.

“I feel ridiculous.”

“Do you?” She’s somewhere off to your right, opening a wooden chest with a creak. “Because you look delightful.”

You roll your eyes. “I really don’t understand how this is supposed to-”

“How many mistakes did you make?”

“I’m beginning to think that this was one.”

“In the piece.” She approaches unhurriedly, ignoring your sarcasm. “How many, do you think?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t count. A lot, I suppose.”

“Eleven.” Something brushes against the back of your thigh. It’s cool, smooth leather. Your breath hitches. “Perfectly reasonable, I would say.”

“Okay, then. Eleven.”

“Count them off for me.”

Before you can ask what she means, something snaps against the undercurve at the top of your right thigh.

“Ow!” Rocking up onto the balls of your feet, you reach back to rub at the stinging mark. You turn an accusatory look at her over your shoulder. “Missy, that hurt!”

“Well it wasn’t supposed to tickle, dear.” She taps the riding crop on the left side of your arse. “What number was that?”

“Well, one, but I don’t-”

“What’s the matter, poppet? Don’t you trust me?” There’s a teasing lilt to her voice but somehow the question feels heavy. You bite back a scathing remark that you don’t really mean - not right now I don’t - and turn back to the piano, dropping your hand.

“One,” you repeat.

"Good girl. Ten more, then.”

“Fine, but not so hard this time.”

“Hmm. We’ll see.” 

Another snap of the crop makes you twitch and yelp. “Ow! Two!”

She alternates sides, sometimes going higher towards the fullest swell of your arse, other times landing the crop on the sensitive undercurve where your thighs meet. By the time you count out eleven, your voice is unsteady and your breathing harsh.  A dull haze of stinging pain like insect bites lingers over your skin.

It’s impossible to ignore the slickness creeping down the insides of your thighs.

Mercifully, she doesn’t point it out. “There we are. That wasn’t so bad, now, was it?”

You scoff and admit sulkily, “no, I s’pose not.” Wincing at the sting, you straighten up and reach back to soothe yourself.

“No, none of that,” she tuts, slapping the crop against your wrist. It doesn’t hurt but shocks you enough to make you snatch your hand away. “Now play it again.”

It takes you by surprise. “I’m sorry?”

“Sit down, and play it through again.” Missy comes to stand at your side, propping her elbow up on the piano lid. “Just like before. I’ll correct any mistakes after the fact.” She pointedly sets the crop down on top of the piano.

Spotting the way that your eyes flit down to the folded clothes on the floor, she chuckles. “Oh, no, you won’t be needing those.” She slides them further under the piano with her boot. “Well, go on.” A sharp pinch to your arse makes you squeak. “Or do I need to repeat myself?”

“Nope!” You pull away swiftly. “Point made. I’ll try it again.”

The cool leather cushion of the piano bench presses mercilessly against your stinging flesh. The pain is already fading, but it’s turning into a prickling, pins-and-needles heat that you can’t ignore. You shift uncomfortably. The brush of leather against your arousal makes you gasp.

“Comfy?” She leans against the piano, smirking at your plight.

“Yes, thank you.” You clear your throat and find the keys. “Just like before?”

“Just like before. I’ll count you in.”

It’s difficult to focus when you can see the crop lying across the piano out of the corner of your eye.

Still, you do your best. Slow and hesitant, you work through the bars, doubling back over the mistakes to correct them with the right notes. Now, when your fingers slip, you wince not only at the sound it makes but at the thought of what will come when you’ve finished.

If your thighs twitch with each one, that can only be out of nerves.

“I think that was better this time.” Your voice comes out shaky.

“Much better,” she agrees. “A very good effort, my dear. How many mistakes this time, do you think?”

You can’t help squirming in your seat. “Seven. I think.”

“Is that so?” She quirks an eyebrow. “I only counted five.”

“Oh. I wasn’t really-”

“No, no,” she holds out her hand and you take it, rising from the bench. “Far be it from me to contradict you. I’ll leave it to your discretion.” Guiding you closer with a gentle tug, she touches your chin. Her fingers brush light and ticklish there. “What’s it to be? Five, or seven?” She looks at you with such tenderness that your chest tightens.

Suddenly it stops being about the piano.

You squeeze her hand and meet her eyes with some effort. She holds you there with her fingers beneath your chin. “Seven,” you whisper, in a voice that sounds like I trust you.

Something melts behind her eyes. She smiles, fond and benevolent. “Seven it is.” Inclining her head towards the side of the piano, she leads you by the hand as if she were asking you to dance.

You follow.

It feels different, this time. Despite the position, you’re not embarrassed; despite the pain, you’re not afraid. Somehow, naked and splayed out for her, you don’t feel vulnerable at all.

You feel held.

“Count for me,” she says again, and now it sounds like a thank you. The first brush of the crop against the inside of your thigh makes you gasp.

For her?

A snap of leather, bringing with it biting pain. Your hips jolt. Your back arches. Inside, deep inside, something comes untied that you never knew was in a knot.

“One!” Breathless, a giddy sort of laugh bubbles up from your chest.

She makes a quiet sound of approval. “Good girl. Back straight, now. Stay still for me.”

You flatten yourself against the cold piano lid. “Yes, Missy.”

For her?

Anything.

[cutiepisenpai]

In Your Dreams part 5

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content. Unprotected Sex. 

Six weeks had passed since they first met. They spent every moment they could together when they weren’t working but it was more of when Spencer wasn’t working. Their soul’s longed for each other when they were apart feeling lost and empty. After the first week they had met they exchange keys to make seeing each other easier. Spencer would let Y/N know when he was heading home from a case and she would be up waiting for him every time. They still shared dreams. It made the times when they were separated easier and when they were in bed together they would fall asleep side by side to spend their nights together in their dreams and get to wake up together not feeling alone for the first time in their lives. It felt almost surreal at first, neither of them knowing what to do. What was really acceptable? Some soulmates' relationships moved rather fast after meeting, almost all immediately moving in together and getting married. Y/N could understand the reasoning wanting to be close with their newly found other half, now that she had Spencer in her life she didn’t want to be without him. And with his job taking him so far away and putting him in constant danger the worry made her sick. 

Spencer is driving to Y/N’s place getting back from a case. He had called her earlier that day saying he wouldn’t be back until tomorrow because at the time he doubted they would be back any earlier. He thought about calling her and letting her know he would be coming back early but decided against it. He had keys to get in and he didn’t want her staying up waiting for him, even though she said it didn’t bother her he could see the exhaustion wearing on her. He turns the key opening the door as quietly as possible. It’s dark inside dimly lit by the streetlights peaking through the curtains. He puts his bags down on the chair closest to the door before heading down the hall to the bedroom. In the bed lies Y/N sleeping peacefully on his side of the bed wearing one of his shirts. Spencer takes a quick shower before climbing in bed behind Y/N wrapping his arms around her and a few minutes later drifting off into a peaceful slumber. Awaking in their dreamland it has changed since they found each other taking on the places they go together in their shared life. They can still change it at will but now instead of seeing darkness before the dream begins to form they will see the coffee shop they visit in the morning, their favorite bookstore, a park they take walks in and either of their apartments. Tonight though he knows he went to sleep in Y/N’s apartment but what he sees surrounding him is his own apartment and on his couch is Y/N sitting humming along to the music that plays on the record player. He enjoys seeing her like this now just like she is in real life when she’s working on something eyes closed lost in the music, her head bobs as she hums mumbling lyrics and her toes wiggle. If she was on her feet she would be dancing. He remembers the first time he went to her apartment unexpectedly letting himself in, he could hear her in the kitchen and when he rounded the corner he saw her dancing around while cooking wearing a cardigan he had left and no pants she was perfect. He walks around the couch and grabs hold of one her wiggling toes breaking her out of her trance. She almost seemed startled until she opened her eyes to see him, the once startled look on her face breaking into a bright beaming smile. “Hey, what are you doing here?” She says moving across the couch to sit on his lap as he sat down. “What am I doing here?” He says gesturing to the apartment. “I live here. What are you doing here?” “You know that’s not what I meant. I thought you were working. I don’t usually see you when you’re working. And I’m always here when you’re gone. It makes me feel closer to you.” Y/N says. Spencer hadn’t expected that, she was right usually when he was gone working they weren’t asleep at the same time if he got any sleep while working a case. “I didn’t think you came here when I was gone. I thought you would be at the beach or the waterfall or the park.” “Are you here?” She asks, “Here?” “Yea like physically, are you home? I can feel you.” She says running her hands through his curly locks. “I got back earlier, I didn’t want you to stay up waiting for me. Plus you’re so cute when you sleep in my clothes.” He says, relishing in the feeling of her hands in his hair. He brings his hands to her hips rubbing gentle circles. “I was thinking about something.” He says. “What is that?” “Moving in together in a single apartment, yours probably since you have more room.” “Are we ready for that?” She asks, “I’ve been ready to spend my life with you for so long. Are you not ready?” Y/N is chewing on her bottom lip, “It’s not that, I want to spend every hour of everyday with you but…” She trails off. How much of a difference would that really make in their lives. When Spencer isn’t working they are practically glued to each other. He spends more time at her apartment, stating it would be safer for him to come to her rather than the other way around. They go to bed together and wake up together, every part of their daily lives includes each other now, and she enjoyed it that way, so why bother waiting. Spencer kisses her forehead, “What are you thinking?” “We practically live together already, okay let’s do it.” Spencer smiles brightly and the rest of their dream is spent making plans. 

Thirty days later Spencer has moved out of his own apartment and is mostly unpacked at his and Y/N’s apartment. Y/N insisted that they keep some of his furniture to make sure he feels more at home and add color; he insists her apartment is lacking. They are unpacking the final box, “You own more books than most people have ever read.” Y/N says handing books to Spencer to place into the books shelf. “Considering your music collection is made of multiple types of media I don’t think you have much of an argument.” “Hey, music is my work, this is completely necessary. And how many quantum physics books do you own? Is there different information in them or something?” No sooner than the question left her mouth did Y/N regret it. She loved Spencer and she even loved his rants but sometimes it was hard for her to follow along. Nonetheless she listens as he explains the differences in the books she pointed out. With the final book put away and the last of the boxes broken down ready to go out to be recycled Y/N and Spencer relax on the couch. Exhausted but also exhilarated they lay together holding hands comfortably just enjoying each other’s presence. “What should we do now?” Y/N asks. “We could always nap.” “I’m not that tired but I will lay with you while you nap.” “Hmm watching me while I sleep no thanks creep.” Spencer laughs out. Y/N opens her mouth offended. “I don’t think you’re one to talk. I wake up to you staring at me a lot” “That’s because you’re so beautiful I have no other choice than to stare. I have another idea.” He says not finishing his thought. He stands up bringing Y/N with him carrying her to their now shared bedroom. “So you do want me to watch you sleep?” She laughs out before he places her down on the bed. “Nope, but I think I can wear you out to the point where you'll be able to nap.” He says leaning down to kiss her on the lips. “If you’re up for it that is.” “If you think you can.” Y/N says challenging him. Leaning down to capture her lips kissing gently while rubbing circles on the sliver of exposed skin where her shirt began to ride up. She shivers under his touch giggling, something he had learned previously was that she was extremely ticklish. Taking advantage using this knowledge he moves his hands up her sides softly causing her to squirm and start laughing loudly. “Th… thi..s is..n’t wh..aaa..at you said.” She laughs unable to control herself and he thoroughly enjoyed it. Nipping at her bottom lip, “Is this not what you want? I’m having fun and laughter can be exhausting.” He says with a smirk. Y/N responds by wrapping her legs around his hips pulling him closer and grinding against the bulge forming in his pants eliciting a moan from him and bringing a smirk of her own to her face. She raises an eyebrow at him as if to ask if he would continue to try and win at this. The thing they learned the first time they slept together is that they both enjoyed teasing each other leading to many pent up sessions. Not willing to give in just yet Spencer runs his hand through her hair before giving a small tug causing her to gasp and kissing into her open mouth. He grinds back against her all the while still tickling her sides. Y/N is so overstimulated from everything happening she can’t do anything more than moan and whimper. She puts an arm around Spencer’s neck pulling him closer into her body. Both so caught up in their activities they gave up on their attempts to tease each other. Clothes are shed and thrown to various parts of the room. Y/N gasps grasping onto the pillows, Spencer was expertly moving his fingers against her clit and trailing kisses along her neck. “Spencer.” She moans out as he moved his fingers from her clit and inserts two fingers into her. She began to rock her hips to meet the rhythm of his fingers pumping into her. He crooks his hand to rub circles on her clit with his thumb, her back arches as she moans, “Th.. hhere.. Rriight… ttthhere.” Her toes curl, “I’m gonna cum.” she pants out. “Then cum.” and just like that pleasure coursed through her body. Still spasming from her orgasm she didn’t notice that Spencer had removed his hand and was lining himself with her entrance and sinking slowly into her. He groans as he pushed in still feeling her walls spasm around him still coming down from her last orgasm. When he is fully sheathed inside of her he places a gentle kiss on her forehead. Waiting for her to show some sign that it was okay for him to continue, she taps his arm and when they make eye contact he knows what she wants to say. He pulls out slowly before reentering at the same slow pace. Her whimpers for him to speed up fall upon deaf ears as he continues at his tortuous pace. Y/N lifts her hips to meet his in an effort to make him speed up but rather than give her what she wants he hooks his right arm under her leg lifting it essentially pinning her to the bed and continuing at his set pace but reaching deeper within her. Overstimulated Y/N can do nothing more than moan, whimper and squirm under Spencer. He lifts her leg slightly higher as he rubs against her g-spot repeatedly. He moans get louder, breathier as she is reaching her second peak. Spencer finally speeds up, capturing her lips again moaning into each other's mouths as they orgasm in unison. Spencer holds himself up above her body resting his forehead against hers as they come down from their highs. When they have finally caught their breath Spencer pulls out and rolls to his side. He looks over to Y/N her eyes are closed but he can tell she isn’t asleep but it wouldn’t be long. He reluctantly gets up to go grab a washcloth to clean them up before they fall asleep. He lays back down pulling Y/N into his chest. She has already fallen asleep. He will be joining her soon and right now he can’t help but be filled with joy. He has a person who understands him like no other, always happy to see him, to listen to him rant about anything. He has waited his entire life for her and here they are.

A/N: This is the final part to In Your Dreams hope you enjoyed it. 

[oliviaischillin1204]

hairbrush

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety (i meant it to be platonic but the end feels romantic-y so whatever floats ya boat)

Word Count: 1,895 words

based on this post, in response to an anon prompt! thanks for the inspo, hope it’s enjoyable akdjhsj. also i’m incapable of writing something genuinely ‘gentle’ so this is a fair deal more teasy than the original post implied

It was a common ritual between the Sides. When Roman wanted a little TLC, all he had to do was grab his hairbrush and come find one of the other sides. Everyone enjoyed getting the chance to brush Roman’s hair: it was long and soft, and best of all, everyone knew that having his hair brushed made Roman melt.

That was how he and Virgil ended up in this position: Virgil sitting on the couch (normally, for once) with Roman on the floor on front of him. With his back against the cushion and Virgil’s legs dangling on either side of his torso, it was all too easy for Roman to soften into the soothing, repetitive stroke of the brush.

“Good?” Virgil asked. Roman sighed in contentment, nodding carefully in order to not disturb Virgil’s brushing. 

“Excellent,” he responded in a low voice. The brush was wide with firm, soft-tipped bristles, and the sensation of it running over his scalp was incredibly pleasing. Combined with the fondness of having someone care enough about him to want to make him feel good, this was one of Roman’s very favorite pastimes.

Virgil laughed lightly. “And you say I’m like a cat. You’re practically purring.”

Roman shrugged one shoulder. “Can’t help it. Feels good.”

Again, Virgil laughed, amused at how Roman’s ability to speak seemed to disappear the longer they went. “Okay, bud. Just stay still.”

The silence settled over them again, and it was so calming, Roman almost fell asleep sitting up. He could get lost in this feeling. It was downright delightful.

“Hang on, this part is sticking up weird,” Virgil murmured, and Roman merely hummed in acknowledgement before his eyes snapped back open with a gasp.

“Roman?” Virgil asked, concerned. “You good?”

“I--”

Roman paused. He was good, and he wanted Virgil to know that so he wouldn’t, but then Virgil would ask him why he gasped, and he didn’t know if he wanted to tell him the actual reason.

“Did I pull your hair?” Virgil continued. Roman paused again before giving a short nod.

“Just a bit, but it’s really okay,” he said quickly, smiling in reassurance even though Virgil couldn’t see him. “I’d-- I’d like you to keep going, if you don’t mind.”

This seemed to satisfy Virgil, who ran the brush through Roman’s hair again.

“I’ll be more gentle,” he promised. Roman nodded again, taking a deep breath as the feeling of contentment returned.

Except Virgil continued by saying, “I was just trying to fix this piece of hair--”

His hands brushed against the unruly hair in question, and in doing so he brushed his knuckles all over the back of Roman’s right ear. This time, the creative side couldn’t hide his gasp, a hand flying over his mouth as he belatedly tried to hide his smile.

He froze as he felt Virgil’s fingers go still in his hair.

“Oh,” he said slowly, and to Roman’s despair there was a smile audible in Virgil’s voice. “I get it.”

Roman shifted on the ground. “No.”

“No?” And now Virgil was laughing softly; the sound sent butterflies to Roman’s tummy. “No what?”

“You-- you know what,” Roman stammered, cursing himself for the wobbly smile rising to his face. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t--”

“Don’t what?”

“Tickle me!”

It was a stupid trick, and Roman realized it immediately. Unfortunately for him, Virgil wasted absolutely no time before he began lightly fluttering his fingers all over Roman’s ear. Roman fell into helpless titters, dropping his chin to his chest as he tried to lean away from Virgil’s touch.

“Seriously?” Virgil asked in delight. “You’re seriously ticklish here?”

Roman shook his head, though his squeaky and adorable giggles probably weren’t helping his case. “No!”

Virgil hummed, gently scratching his nails at the spot where Roman’s ear met his jaw. “I don’t believe you, Princey. It looks like you’re very ticklish right about here.”

“Ah-ha!” Roman exclaimed, jerking forward and curling in on himself. Behind him, he heard Virgil tsk.

“Oh, hell no,” he said. “Let’s fix that right now.”

Before Roman could stop him, Virgil swung his legs inwards and wrapped them around Roman’s arms; he used this new postion as leverage, pulling Roman so he was sitting up straight again. His feet rested on Roman’s forearms, essentially pinning them to his thighs.

Roman gasped. He pulled experimentally at his new restraints, then slightly harder when he realized he really couldn’t move his arms. He opened his mouth to complain, but all that came out was a series of high-pitched squeals, thanks to Virgil’s fingers gently tracing over his sensitive little ear.

“W-wait!” he giggled. “I can’t move!”

Virgil snorted. “That’s kind of the point, genius.” To Roman’s horror, he added the fingers on his other hand to the mix, this time on his left ear. The two sets of wiggling fingers against both of Roman’s ears at once was enough to send him into full on giggles, wriggling giddily against the tickles.

“This is so freaking cute,” Virgil said, and Roman felt his face growing warm at the tease. His fingers slowly swirled around and around the shell of Roman’s ears, until they hit a spot just underneath his earlobe.

Roman squealed loudly, jolting at the new electrifying touch. “Virgil!”

He could practically see the smile that was probably forming on Virgil’s face right now, as the experimental touches became more intentional in that one specific spot.

“Oh, so this is the spot? Right here? This is Roman’s tickle spot?”

Virgil’s voice lilted and bounced in just the right way to make Roman groan through his giggles. He yanked fruitlessly at his trapped arms, desperate to bat Virgil’s hands away from his ears, or at least cover his blushing face.

“Virgil!” he whined, giggling with abandon. 

“What? Does the little prince not like having his ears touched? I wasn’t even trying to tickle you, but it looks like somebody is just too ticklish for the brush, huh?”

“You’re not even brushing it!” Roman squealed. He whipped his head back and forth in a desperate attempt to dislodge Virgil’s fingers.

“Oh, you’re right,” Virgil said, pulling his hands back and giving Roman a moment to breathe. “Let me fix that.”

A second later, Roman felt the brush going through his hair, but it was no longer as relaxing as before. Sure, it still felt good, but by now he was so keyed up with the other tickles that even the brush’s bristles against his scalp were enough to set him off. He rocked in place as much as he could, his neck scrunching up involuntarily due to the tickles traveling down his neck.

“Hold still...” Virgil whispered, blowing a stream of air against his ears that made Roman squeal again. He whipped his head away from the feeling, jerking away from the hand that held his hairbrush.

Virgil scoffed. “Dude, if you actually mess up your hair after you fucking asked me to brush it, I’m gonna tickle you for real.”

Roman whined again, high pitched and frantic.

“Stop saying that!”

“Stop saying what? Tickle?”

Roman bit his lip, pointedly looking straight ahead. He struggled not to wiggle away as he felt Virgil shift forward on the couch cushions behind him.

“So you don’t want me to say--”

Roman bit off another squeak as he felt one of Virgil’s arms wrap around his upper chest, pulling him upright against the couch. He only had a second to process the feeling of Virgil’s warm breath right against his ear before the other side spoke again.

“Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle.”

His voice was low and sharp, and he paired the verbal assault with lightly scratching the brush’s bristles just below Roman’s hairline on the back of his neck.

The creative side gave a gasping laugh, scrunching his neck up and arching his back in a desperate attempt to get away from the awful tickles. Virgil’s voice was dripping with teasiness, and his words were hitting Roman’s ears like it was ASMR. It sent awful tingles down his spine and made him feel like he was getting tickled from the inside out.

Roman squawked, a sound that he would normally be embarrassed by but was too busy in the moment to worry about, and his squirming increased tenfold. 

“Nahaha! Virgil! Please!”

“Please what?” Virgil teased. “Please brush your hair? That’s what I’m trying to do, but you won’t let me!”

Roman merely laughed in response, helplessly shaking his head as he tried to shake off the tickly feeling of the brush. “I can’t--!”

Virgil tsked. “Too bad. Looks like these tickly ears are all mine, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

He dropped the brush, and once again began fluttering all of his fingers on, around, under, and behind Roman’s ears. Roman nearly cackled, head flinging back and forth, but Virgil’s fingers easily followed him. His incessant cooing only made the tickling worse; every word he said sent tingles down Roman’s back, and his warm breath continued to torture Roman’s ears in the most evil way possible.

Roman squealed, squeaked, snorted, and giggled at the tickles. He wasn’t used to having such a sensitive spot so thoroughly attacked, but if he were being honest, he wasn’t planning on asking Virgil to stop anytime soon.

After some indeterminate amount of time, Virgil pulled back, mostly because Roman’s laughter was starting to sound more than a little wheezy. He let his legs drop to the sides, and Roman immediately shot his hands up to rub away the ghost tingles at his ears.

“You’re evil,” he muttered without malice, turning to give Virgil a pout that he didn’t really mean. Virgil took one look at him and burst into laughter.

“Your hair,” he said kindly, “is a fucking mess.”

Roman felt his hair for a moment before sighing. That made sense: he’d been wiggling and thrashing all over the place ever since Virgil first grazed his ear.

“It’s fine,” he said automatically, but Virgil leaned forward to take his arm and ease him backwards onto the couch next to him.

“Here,” he said with a sheepish smile, “let me.”

He eased Roman to the side until he was leaning against Virgil’s shoulder, and the emo side immediately started running his fingers through Roman’s soft locks.

Roman stayed pouty for about all of three seconds before melting into Virgil’s side. He subconciously tilted his head to give Virgil better access, relishing in the feeling of Virgil scratching his fingers against his scalp.

“So the little prince has tickly ears, huh?” Virgil teased. His words were quiet, but they still sent a plesant tingly feeling through Roman’s body.

He squirmed against Virgil. “Why must you tease me?”

Virgil shrugged. “I mean, it is pretty cute,” he admitted, pressing a tiny kiss to the tip of Roman’s ear. A small shiver went through his body, but it honestly felt kind of nice.

“Rude,” Roman murmured, a light giggle escaping when Virgil did it again.

“Say it to my face,” he retorted, pressing a final kiss to Roman’s cheek. The creative side blushed, but the feelng of Virgil’s gentle fingers in his hair made it all better. It always did.

And if Virgil happened to accidentally brush his fingers against Roman’s ears again, and again, and again-- well, it’s not like Roman could really complain.

[forgeandgredimagines]

Mischievous Antics 『Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader』

Request: Hey hey!! I really love your work, I was wondering if you could make a kuroo x reader oneshot of kuroo messing with the reader and they start playfully fighting bc of that. I dont know if you get what I mean but thank you in advanced 🖤❤️ (Anon)

A/N: I totally get what you mean :>> I feel like Kuroo would definitely be the type of boyfriend that would always mess with and annoy you. But you still love him regardless of his ridiculous antics, because who wouldn't?

Warnings: Mild swearing

Word count: 1.5k

Masterlist!!

Everyone who's known Kuroo is well aware of the fact that he is, to put it simply, a ginormous troublemaker. Everyone knows that they have to be especially careful around the man, else they'll find themselves in some sort of sticky situation. Which is definitely why you don't have the right to blame Kuroo for taking embarrassing photos of you, that he may or may not use for blackmail, you should be blaming yourself for falling asleep in the middle of the living room wearing the ridiculous looking (though undeniably comfortable) t-rex onesie Tsukishima gifted you for your birthday, with a Korean face masks that was probably way too overpriced to be a reasonable purchase, but you didn't care. 

It was Sunday evening, you were home alone and you wanted to pamper yourself. College was just as, if not more, tiring than they made it seem when you were in high school, hence why you needed a day for yourself every once in a while.

This was precisely the reason why Kuroo decided to surprise you that night with a bags full of your favorite foods and a list of movies you two could binge watch that night. He got in with the spare key he knew you hid under a flower pot by the entrance and instead of being greeted with a big hug from you after being pleasantly surprised with his sudden arrival and presents, he found you passed out cold in the living room, a bowl of half melted ice cream precariously clutched in your arms, only inches away from spilling all over your onesie, which Kuroo found incredibly cute. The anime that you had previously been watching was still playing, you had just missed an epic boss battle between the protagonist and his best friend who was secretly evil but that wasn't important. What was important was how completely ridiculous you looked.

Kuroo tried to stifle his laughter. Emphasis on tried. He couldn't help but let out a few giggles which luckily didn't do much but make you stir groggily, the ice cream miraculously still not spilling everywhere.

He hastily carried the bags of food into the kitchen and rushed back to you with his phone in his hand, the camera app already open. He positioned the camera right above you, he made sure to get the most unflattering angle because he was a good boyfriend.

All would have gone well if he hadn't forgotten to turn the flash off. The bright light flashed over your face waking you from your slumber. Kuroo froze in place, his phone still hovering over you. You groggily looked up at him, rubbing your eyes.

"Tetsu?" You asked, your voice laced with sleepiness. Your hand brushed over your cheeks and felt the face mask, and you suddenly realized what was happening.

You two stood there for a few seconds, frozen. And just like that you two jumped like frightened cats. Kuroo jumped over the coffee table, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He ran as if his life depended on it, and to be honest, it kind of did.

You let out a screech in shock and leapt after him, the bowl of ice cream now crashing onto the ground, but he was too quick for you.

Before Kuroo could run into the bathroom to lock himself in, he tripped on the carpet but he caught himself before he crashed onto the ground, but this momentary delay gave you time to catch up on him. You made a grab for the phone but Kuroo quickly held it up in the air, far from your reach. His years of volleyball and troublemaking had lead to him developing rather fast reflexes.

He pried you off of him and ran into the kitchen instead, and found himself cornered behind the small kitchen island. You skidded to halt right across from him, the island being the only thing keeping you from strangling the man.

"Had a good nap, hun?" He grinned cheekily at you. He waved out his phone, close enough that you could see your incriminating photo in full HD but far enough that it was only a little bit more than arms length.

You growled at him as you internally asked yourself why you were dating the oaf. You threw your face mask at him.

"Kuroo Tetsurou, you are such an asshole!" You bellowed. His grin only grew wider. You dashed towards him from the left of the island but Kuroo ran towards the right, leading you two to be in the same position but on the other sides of the granite surface.

"I swear when I get my hands on you-" You began listing down rather violent ways on how you were going to make the male regret his actions.

Kuroo's face only grew more smug at these threats. "You're so cute when you're feeling homicidal tendencies." He cooed at you. "But I think this is much more cuter."

He grinned down at his phone, ignoring your death glare, when an idea popped into his head. "It would...be a shame if...this happened to be accidentally sent to someone."

You gasped at these words. "You wouldn't."

"Come on, let's be honest, we both know that I would."

He began tapping on his phone, preparing to send the incriminating photo to the groupchat you, Kuroo and your closest friends were in. This list included Kenma, Yaku, Bokuto, Tsukishima, Akaashi and several of your other friends. You'd never hear the end of it.

You clenched your fists in defeat and stared at your feet (which were t-rex feet but that wasn't important).

Kuroo was just about to send the photo when he heard a sniffle. He froze in his place, guilt already beginning to engulf him.

He turned to you, you were biting your lips in frustration, tears prickling the corners of your eyes. He hated when you cried, especially when he was the one that caused them to begin with.

"Hey, hey, no, I was just playing around. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to get upset." He cautiously approached you. "I won't send it to anyone, I promise."

He was now beside you, rubbing your shoulders consolingly, when he noticed the corners of your mouth rising by a fraction.

It was too late, you had grabbed ahold of his phone. You ducked under his arm and ran for the living room, quickly trying to delete the photo from both the gallery and the recently deleted folder, but you couldn't do this quickly as you were running from a feral and thoroughly betrayed man behind you.

He quickly gained on you and tried to grab the phone, you two were now having a tug of war contest with the unfortunate device. Kuroo then tripped on a shoe and fell onto the floor, his face landing on the spilt ice cream. The melted vanilla and chocolate was smeared all over the side of his face and was all over his hair but his focus was still on the phone that he managed to hold on to even during his fall.

"Let--go!" You cried out and you pulled with all your might.

"It's my phone--you hag!"

As Kuroo said this though, his grip on the phone loosened and you found yourself falling back from the sudden loss of force from his end. You exclaimed in delight as you brought the phone up to your face, only to gasp in horror as you took in what was on the screen.

Amidst the chaos that just ensued, one of you had unknowingly managed to send the photo the the group chat.

Bokuto, always the first to see messages, had already sent a dozen or so messages and gifs, his delight evident. Akaashi, who checked the chat because of Bokuto's spamming, was now sharing his own delightfully sarcastic comments. Yaku had just seen the photo and was already typing his reaction as you groaned in defeat.

Kuroo grabbed the phone from your lax hands and roared in laughter upon seeing the chat. He struggled to breath as he fell into more laughter, tears even started to prickle his eyes, when a bright light flashed and a little notification pinged from Kuroo's phone.

He looked down onto the groupchat only to see his own face, manic with glee. He had to admit, he looked ridiculous, with melted, sticky vanilla and chocolate ice cream smeared all over his face, clothes and hair, which was now messier than ever, which is saying something for the male.

He looked over at your smug face. You were still lying on the ground from your fall earlier, but your hands were now clasped on your own phone which was left on the coffee table beside you earlier.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

"I really hate you, you know." He said playfully as he began poking the sides of your stomach. You burst into laughter from his unrelenting tickling and struggled under him. When you calmed down from your fits of giggles, you sighed and smiled fondly at him. "I love you too, jerk."