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musedblues · 4 months ago

Text

AMORE ~ FATI (part 1)

a/n: wait until the movie? nah. haven't stopped thinking about this freaky fucker since the trailer dropped! eat up, babes. also the horny police called and there is a warrant out for my arrest.

description: after winding up in a crime related to the royals, geta strikes up a deal with you.

warnings: down right hoe shit, sexual descriptions, gruesome descriptions, minimal historical research/ distant memories from high school test, cliff hanger. MINORS DNI

Part 1 of 2 (at least)

///

The afternoon was like any other, the day your life changed. You awoke to an empty home, gathered your cart of crafts, and headed to the stalls. You sold your paintings there and begged the clouds to cover the swelter of the sun.

For your landscape art, you accepted coin. You accepted food. You accepted a jeweled ring that afternoon, just as well. An exchange like it wasn't out of the ordinary. You pawned the adornment for cash that evening, and made the trek back home. With plans to paint pictures into the night, to sell off the next day.

Your home was quaint, once big enough for two, now only you haunted the halls. The man you'd once been forced to marry had been dead for many months now, and a certain freedom was found in his absence. But a certain monotony about your routine seemed to predetermine the days ahead as far as you could see them. So, you painted.

As you fiddled with brushes and stained your grey dress with speckles of deep amber, a bursting knock came across your door. The guest gave you no time to greet them before turning into an intruder. Two royal guards burst into your home, shouting and grabbing you and dragging you away. All so quickly.

You went fighting. You cursed as they held you in a carriage. You demanded their silence broken. But they remained stone faced as you begged to know why you'd been abducted from your home.

Your captors rode into the city, past the colosseum, right through the gates that led to the home of the reigning family. Your heart hammered in fear, knowing what you knew about the rulers. Caracalla and Geta had only just taken over the reign of their father, their mother looming near, picking sides; as you understood. Since the change in leadership, Rome hadn't suffered en mass. But a growing dread hung heavy over the population, knowing the brothers were struggling to join together in power. Knowing their clash divided not only their power, but all of Rome.

You were grabbed at once more, forced out of the carriage and into the great hall of the estate. Gold and red statues lined the entrance. A plum rug stretched before your feet, a welcoming cushion as the rest of your senses were drowned by harshness. Before you, pacing near his throne, Geta waited.

You'd seen him and his brother before, trailing behind their father at rallies. Lingering near the stands at games. You'd always let your gaze settle on Geta, if ever you'd seen him. You'd always been drawn to gawk at the trimness of his figure. The enigmatic expressions he would pull. The presence he commanded. He was easy to admire, from afar. And the towns ladies often gossiped of how alluring he could be up close, if they were lucky enough to be invited to do so. No one spoke as much of Caracalla. In his name, fear and loathing often followed.

With a glare in your direction, Geta ceased pacing. He nodded toward his guards to relinquish their hold on you.

"What is all this?" You demanded, refusing to bow or humble yourself before this ruler in anyway. How could you dare offer up respect when little to none had been offered to you? Geta seemed taken aback, for a flash. His brows furrowed and his lips parted in shock, at your boldness. But then a grin flickered across his lips and his pacing started up once more.

"You're in possession of something of mine, no?" Geta alluded. Want as you might've to argue, to proclaim your innocence, you were too baffled. What could he possibly be on about?

"You were seen taking a ring as payment today, at your stall." Geta boomed, voice filling the room, echoing off the tall painted ceilings. He started into a story, then, that made things clearer. You learned that ring was a family heirloom, stolen by a servant only one night ago. That he'd sold it to a carriage driver for freedom. You learned that servant had been slain. But the ring was still gone. And you were the last person seen with the distinct bluish jewel in your palm. There were many a shopper along the street market this morning. Several were looking into your stall as you accepted the ring for payment. You couldn't deny the action. But you didn't have it any longer, anyhow.

"I exchanged it for money. With the sellers near the river." You decidedly conceded. "I've got nothing more to do with this now release me." Your voice shook, out of fear for your fate, and anger for your circumstance.

"Names." Geta stalled his meander, a few steps away from you. His dark eyes had cast across your figure before boring right into yours. You couldn't look right at him without feeling a shiver up your spine. And you were not about to let on that Geta had this effect on you. So, you cast your gaze to the hands at his sides, and scoffed at what you saw.

"Why? Are the rings already on your fingers not good enough? You cannot be allowed to want for what you don't have, if you're in possession of more than enough already."

"What's mine is mine! No one else's." Geta yelled, keeping his eye's boring into yours. His voice shook through the halls, and fueled your rage further. Your rage for your circumstance, and for that of this nation.

"Your greed shall poison this empire." You spat at the man.

"An empire I was born to rule cannot be soured, destiny has been at work since my conception and my father's before me." Geta grinned, an all-knowing sort of smile that was meant to belittle you, you were certain. But you couldn't be made to feel so worthless.

"We are all born to die, your highness."

"Your opposition will result in bleakness if you do not answer my call for this information. Give me their names." Geta shouted, still inches from you. Geta was giving you a chance to answer. And that shocked you. You voiced your opposition only because you thought you were surely moments away from being killed, and refused to die without standing your ground. But here you still stood. Geta was letting you.

As taken aback by his patience as you were, his arrogance and demanding shouts were only deepening your desire to withhold. To stand resolute. Who were you to ruin some poor people's lives over a bit of jewelry? Your silence was deafening, each passing moment tensing at Geta's shoulders. You watched his jaw clench, you watched his eye's dance between your own. You smiled.

"Get her out of my sight." Geta hissed, waving his men to capture you once more. You rolled your eyes as they grabbed at you. "Keep her in the cellar until she starts talking. Do not, however... take drastic measures."

You shot a perplexed frown the rulers way as he shook his head in your direction. A scowl turned Geta's lips down. But as he watched you begin to growl in unwillingness to go, his smile curled to life.

"And what of you? What punishments are you allotted?" You yelled as the guards dragged you away. Geta kept his furrowed smirk pointed at you, a puzzled sparkle in his eye.

///

The cellar smelled damp as it felt, your feet squelching along the dirt paths. You'd been taken past a row of prisoners, all in various stages of wither. You closed your eyes too them, offering silent prayers for their fates in passing.

"In you go," A guard shoved you toward the back of a small cell, chuckling as he locked the barred off door. "When you're ready to talk, we just might be around to listen. Let's hope we don't forget about you all the way over in this corner."

How had you ended up here? Hours ago, you'd been at peace in your quiet cottage, paint brush in hand. Now you sat on a wooden bench, senses filled with cold. How were the gods so cruel? Why did you have to accept that stupid ring? Why didn't you admire it longer? Maybe you would've found evidence of its owner, somehow, in the royal gleam of the thing. Maybe you could have returned it with honor, the promise of your home awaiting you. But none of that was happening. Now, you were unsure of everything. But you weren't going to go down without a fight. You weren't going to rat out the innocent fellow you pawned with, for simply surviving another day of this confounding life. You weren't eager to play into the rulers demands for more, as if he didn't have enough. As if he deserved to be granted assurance when himself and his brother offered Rome none.

Hours must've passed. Guards floated by time and again, jeering at you through the bars of your cell. As they passed you by, the voices grew louder yet, giving other prisoners hell. You heard shouts and screams. You heard begging for torture to cease. You heard the stabbing of flesh and the gurgle of blood. You heard the quiet from your own cell. Why were you being spared of such treatment? Why was your confinement different from the others?

As you began to question your own sanity, and the fate the gods had in store for you, a guard was passing by your cell once more. He stopped there, jamming a key into the lock. This was it. Your turn had come. You braced to be berated as the man reached in and yanked you to stand. The guard demanded you to follow as he dragged you through the cellar the same way you'd come in.

Suddenly you were in the great hall again. The purple carpet like clouds under your step. There were servants arranging decor as if an event were to be taking place soon. Your observation of the hall was short lived as the single guard dragged you up a marble staircase. The home was vast, and full of well painted statues and portraits and windows. The sun was long gone from the sky. It had to be later than midnight. As you soaked up your surroundings and let your imagination run wild, you tried not to worry how you'd be executed. You tried to remind yourself that death waited for no one. You tried to remember the last picture you'd been painting, a field of sheep under a setting sun.

Your captor stalled before a great carved door, twisting the handle. Your captor dragged you inside.

Candles lit a room with a bed in the middle, the biggest you'd ever seen. The amber glow of the space was welcoming, despite the terror that resided about your situation. Beyond the bed was a table full of wine, bottles of all sort decorated the clothed stand. Before the table, was Geta. His slump on a stool shifted when he saw you. Moving to stand, the man dressed more scarcely than before was slow to approach you. His expression unreadable.

"Leave us." He demanded, pointing the guard to exit the room. The man's parting left chills in his wake. What was to become of you now? What was this all about?

Geta did not stay still at your front. He instead let his head roll from one side to the other as his pace turned back toward the cloth covered table. Among the bottles of wine were a scattered few chalices. He filled one with a drink. And then another.

"We caught the carriage driver who initially accepted the ring." Geta announced, back toward you all the while. You admired the tone of his shoulders, as one was left uncovered by his robe. The cloth stayed tied among his waist. "We also captured the man you pawned the ring off to. We have the ring." Geta continued, bringing both cups of wine over to where you stood. Ah, so poison was to be your execution?

Accepting the chalice in a fist, you stayed silent all the while. Geta locked his tired gaze on yours and kept talking.

"The ring was my fathers. Something he left just to me. Caracalla was given finery as well, just for himself. We do not do well with equity, my brother and I." Geta raised his wine for a sip and kept his dark gaze locked on your own. His eye's were red from lack of sleep, it seemed. His eyes were bright, all the while, as they peered into yours. This leader had a way of drawing you in. This leader had a way of making you forget you were probably on the verge of slaughter or worse.

"And while this mission to hunt down the ring has been my mission alone, Caracalla's wrath has still been promoted since he learned something of our fathers had gone missing." Geta explained.

"What's become of the carriage driver and the man I sold your ring to?" You dared to wonder.

"The servant was killed as you know, by Caracalla's own sword. The driver has been exiled at my command." Geta said. "But the man you sold it too was killed as well, by my brother's guards. Before I could get to him. You see my wrath is often equal to Caracalla's. But my bloodlust isn't as insatiable. And I can see his way of violence has stirred fear among our people. Would you agree?"

You had to nod.

"I do not wish death upon you. Blood should only be shed in battles and in honor. You were a simple moving part. You should not deserve to be killed in the crossfire. But you should pay for stumbling where you dared not have stepped. Otherwise, Caracalla will catch wind that I let you slip away without a punishment. And he will do worse."

"So, what is my fate?" You wondered, clutching the wine in your fist, unmoving. Mind whirring. Had you really been shown a backhanded kindness by the ruler you'd always believed to be more unyielding? His already alluring nature becoming more attractive as you understood this to be true.

"Exile seems drastic, yes. But it's an option." Geta raised his glass to gesture, moving to pace before a cushioned chaise. This room, his room, wanted for nothing. There was space and comfort and treasure promised throughout its expanses.

"Then there could be a fine. You'd be meant to pay every fortnight." Geta reasoned drinking once more. Still not entirely trusting of your own wine, you rested the chalice on a nearby chest, crossing your arms with a scowl. As if this Empire needed more money.

"I'm too poor to keep that up." You spat, expressing displeasure in your tone. Geta raised a brow and frowned when he realized your implication, how much work needed to be done for the betterment of the population. With a sigh, Geta cast his gaze about the room. When his pace turned naturally closer to you, his eye's locked on your face as a realization dawned across his. Geta let a smirk hint at his lips as his dark eyes glanced into yours.

"There is... another way..." Geta implied something you didn't see coming. As the man continued his languid back and forth, his gaze stayed ever fixed on your figure. And you hadn't really been ashamed of the glances you'd stolen of his, this day. He was drawing closer, as if to entice you. He didn't need to know that it wouldn't have taken much seduction. He didn't need to know that you'd already been wondering what it would be like to untie the robe at his waist.

Geta didn't need to know that you were becoming less wrought with terror by the second. You'd hoped he'd never known you were afraid, before. But now, in the flickering candlelight of his lavish room, you saw him. The persona Geta had put on all these years, all this time, was just that. You could see plain as day. Geta was full of anger, yes. But he seemed full of so much more, to you, now, too. The man seemed to hold a brewing mixture of depth about him that felt so obvious all of a sudden. Now, more endeared to the ruler, and just as attracted, you made up your mind.

"Seeing as I have no funds... let's just get this over with." You sighed, feigning impatience for the wrong reasons.

Geta circled you, eyeing you up. You wanted to melt under how hot his gaze was. But right now this was all happening far too slowly. Your interest had skyrocketed. But your time had also been heavily wasted here. You had plans, after all. He'd held you captive long enough.

"Sit down. I'm tired of waiting." You barked at him, shoving his shoulder so he collapsed into the chaise. Geta fell seated at your order but looked up to you with an irate sneer. An anger passed over his expression but morphed into curiosity in a blink.

"Seeing as to how I'm getting what I want out of you, I don't mind giving into your demands." Geta announced, as if to remind you he was the one calling the shots. You couldn't help but grin, struggling not to roll your eyes at the man's obsession with power. Humming so he knew you heard him, you settled either knee at Geta's sides.

As the ruler's fingers reached to grab at your hips, your day flashed before your imagination. Funny how life worked. How days could be spent so monotonously for so long only to become upturned and scattered about the next. You never imagined you'd find yourself straddling one of Rome's emperors over a payment for your latest painting.

Geta's kiss surprised you. Not the fact that it was bruising, and harsh. But the fact that it was. You assumed this would go quickly, without much effort put into anything besides a quick and vulgar shagging. Granted, his lips didn't press into yours longer than a couple minutes, before his teeth were digging into your neck. But the way his hands wandered to grab at your limbs and claw at your skin was a welcomed affection you had not expected.

When you finally got to untie the robe around his waist, you couldn't help but admire the build of his core, the shape of his figure. You'd heard girl's oggle over the emperor before, he was no stranger to trysts of most kind. You'd heard girl's trade deadly details of their nights spent with Geta, his lust unbridled. But the sight of his body bare before yours was better than any rumor you'd caught wind of.

As you lowered yourself into Geta's lap, he was quick to rock his hips against yours with force you had been bracing for. His grip on your hips threatened to turn you over, but you'd be damned if you let him gain complete control. You rose a hand to the man's head, raking a set of fingers through his hair. Your fingers curled to grip with perhaps too much gusto, and your hips rolled to force Geta back, more fully seated.

You heard the man let out a hoarse curse as his grip lightened, as he accepted your dominance. Did this really count as payment if you were getting more out of it?

Geta pushed you away when it was all said and done, a steady hand stayed holding your side as he nudged you off of his lap. You maneuvered to stand, adjusting the skirt of your dress with a sigh.

"I suppose I should thank you for sparing my life. Surely thought you'd take it. Shame our exchange has come to an end. Didn't quite feel like a payment at all." A daring smirk painted your face as you turned to head for the door. You heard Geta lumber to stand, perhaps drunk off wine and pleasure. His feet padded as your hand reached for the handle of your escape.

"What was the painting?" Geta asked, stalling your leave and perplexing you to turn to face him. He was shrugging his robe back into place with a raised brow. "The painting bought with my ring, what was it?"

"Oh," You realized, pursing a frown. "I- I don't exactly recall. I do a lot of landscapes. Seascapes. Could've been anything like it." You noted. Geta watched you speak, mouth opened, stalled to say more. His tongue glided over the ends of his teeth as the man nodded and sauntered back toward his table full of wine.

"My guards will see to your return home." Geta called, back facing you. You took that as your leave, anxious for some rest after exhausting your mind with wonder all day, and your body with pleasure this night. As you shut the emperor's door with a soft click, a gratitude filled your chest. That could've gone a lot worse.

///

The next day seemed surreal. You recalled the night like a fevered dream, like a plot from a book. But there were scratches along your thighs that reminded you what had happened was very truly real. You recalled the feelings Geta stirred in you with warmth.

You milled from room to room, mind in constant awe of the way your life had been spared. Since the brothers had come into power, so many senseless killings had been threatened and followed through. So much violence had afflicted common criminals and the odd person out of place alike. Was it more to do with Caracalla? Was he truly the more cruel? Did Geta have a softness about him? Or had you just gotten damn lucky?

You went about your daily chores and sat down to paint. Your art displayed sheep dotting across greyish green land. Your setting sun was in progress. A breeze flowed through the window, and you imagined it in your painting as well. A knocking rattled your door. It's persistence grating your nerves. Only now, at least, no one was intruding.

Maybe that's why you were shocked more so now than before, to see two royal guards at your front door.

"Geta is demanding your audience." One of them chuckled lowly before reaching to grab at you. He was too strong to fight off, though kick and yell you did.

Oh God, he'd realized he'd let you off easy, hadn't he? You should've pretended to hate rocking against his lap in that chair. You should've begged for freedom. Or maybe it was Caracalla after all. Maybe he'd heard of your involvement with his father's stolen ring and wished you dead. And these guards were luring you in with a false promise that Geta was the one wishing for a meeting.

While your mind raced, and the carriage took off into the city and passed the colosseum, you cursed the guards for dragging you away again. For being such fowl scum of the earth to manhandle women like they did.

It wasn't long before you were being yanked from the ride and marched into the great hall with that luscious purple carpet underfoot. Geta was there, assessing a scroll with a couple of servants nearby. His shock surprised you, when his glance looked up from the papers.

As you squirmed against the holds the guards kept on you, Geta shoved the scroll he held onto, into the grasp of a servant. He drew his sword from his side, the instrument of war and horror blinding you in its brightness. The emperors stomp in your direction was quick, his footfall shaking the building and you to your core. This was it. This was your fate.

"Release her now!" Geta yelled, directing his fury to one of the guards at your side. Before the words fully formed from the man's mouth, either of the guard's grips had unlatched from your arms. You did not see that coming. You almost couldn't comprehend that his blade had missed piercing straight through you.

"You were gone for all of a few seconds before you bring her back here?" Geta quizzed, face red with anger. He held the end of his sword to the man's chin, forcing his footsteps back.

"You- you told us to go fetch the girl from last afternoon, is that not what we did your highness?" The guard was bold in asking, though his voice trembled.

"I told you to ask her to come. I told you to remain at her door in patience. And you dare drag the woman back in the matter of mere moments? With force? That's a direct disregard of my orders!" With speed that rallied a gasp from your throat, Geta whipped his sword to slash at the knees of the guard that defied him. The man let out a cry as his legs gave way, sending the fellow to collapse. Geta ordered the other guard to take the injured one to a medic and stay there until he was ready to deal with them further. His blood pooled and stained the purple carpet.

"Why am I here again?" You couldn't linger in uncertainty any longer, once again failing to greet the leader without any respect of his authority. Geta plunged his red stained sword into its sheath as he demanded his servants get out. The workers scattered at the sound of his command, scurrying toward exits. The room was filled with quiet as Geta turned to face you fully.

"I'm sorry they dragged you here. You were only meant to show up if you so wished." Geta's voice was lower, his rage subdued. He confounded you, the way he held so much darkness and contempt about him. The way he eased into constraint. These were not the stories you had heard. This was not the man described to you by retired servants and wives of soldiers. He was more withheld, before you. And it caught you by surprise time and again.

"But since you are here now, and you have not yet raised a hand to lash across my cheek, I shall tell you," Geta went on, letting his eyes do what they had done before. Letting his gaze sweep across your figure. "I asked you here to present to you a proposition. An invitation to spend more evenings like the one we shared just before."

"You cannot be serious." You let a breath of a laugh fan from your throat.

"I'm hardly ever anything but." Geta reasoned with a curled lip and a shrug of his shoulder in a way you knew was meant to get you to chuckle for real. This man continued to confound you. This man contained multitudes. How had no one else, in all their gossip, mentioned this?

"Is this more to do with payment? Did our exchange not suffice?" You reasoned, still uncertain of the terms in which Geta was asking.

"I think you know exactly how well our exchange sufficed. Well enough for me to not have stopped dreaming of doing exactly that time and time again. I'm merely asking because I wish too." Geta was so close, his breath ghosting across your cheek, his eyes searching yours. "And now you get to decide what you wish. Who am I to deny you a choice?"

"What happens should I turn to leave?" You wondered.

"A guard would take you home. And with fair treatment, I'd make certain."

"What happens should I stay?"

"A servant would take you upstairs. And your imagination could fill in the rest."

Well, this certainly wasn't how you expected your day to turn out. That painting of all the sheep and the sunset would have to wait another long day. You suddenly couldn't dream of plans outside of those featuring Rome's half reigning emperor.

With a nod toward the door you'd seen Geta's servants go through, he grinned.

With footsteps more certain of the direction of his room, you found yourself locked in there, waiting.

///

The next weeks were filled with plans you couldn't tell anyone without fear they'd think you'd gone mad. You spent days milling about the stalls to sell your landscape paintings, careful of the payments you accepted. You'd harvest the fruits from your garden for meals and wait until night fall, when your promised escort arrived.

Nights were spent in Geta's room, on his floor, against his wall, in that blessed chaise. Nights were spent shoving the emperors head into the pillows as your hips rocked together. Nights were spent demanding he speed up and slow down at your desire. Nights were spent with Geta sharing wine in between drawn-out romps. You'd drink and laugh and carry on, a couple times until the sun peaked dimly into a new day. You'd stay drinking, sharing stories about where you had come from and your hardships. Things you'd hardly spoken of before. Things you couldn't believe Geta would listen so intently to.

It started off as only a few times throughout any given week. But at the end of those nights Geta would always ask about the next. You'd offer up a day or a time and he'd promise you that he'd see to it happening. He would pour you more wine and tell you the dirtiest jokes, and ask what pleased you most before those nights ended.

But after a while, he stopped asking. And your escort showed up outside your door more nights than most. And it became a rather expected part of the schedule of either of your days.

This night as you padded across the purple carpet, following behind a servant you'd come to trust; a ruckus was sounding from the stairwell you headed toward.

There you found Geta and his brother spitting fowl words in one another's direction. The men were swarmed by guards, ready to take on any outcome of the boys spat. And while they argued about political things you weren't privy to the full details of, you understood they spoke their father's name. You heard Caracalla remind Geta that their father had decidedly upped Rome's soldiers pay to ensure their loyalties to the empire. You heard Geta shout something about how his father was dead, how the brothers needed to learn to ensure loyalties in their own manner. And then he noticed you had arrived.

"Thank God." Geta seethed, waving his brother off, taking the stairs two at a time to lower himself to greet you.

"For you, Geta, trust is easily earned, isn't it?" Caracalla shouted, still domineering about the stairs. "A bat of your lashed eyes toward any common whore and they come flooding through our halls." Caracalla cast a snarl in your direction that turned Geta's blood so hot you swore you could feel the smoke coming off him. With a decidedly quick hand, you rested your fingers to grip Geta's arm, stopping him from running up the staircase to rip his brother in two. You didn't care so much what Caracalla thought of you, so long as Geta's opinion remained unchanged.

"But my powers of persuasion are not so charming. And I must demand trust more harshly. And I must remain harsh to keep control. And I do control the half of this empire entrusted in my name!" Caracalla was seething, fists balled at his sides, eyes bulging with rage. You'd never known anyone to be fueled by such negativity. Geta had slowly started toward his brother, letting your grip remain on his arm.

"We'll reach an agreement. But not till morning. Go back to your side of the estate, now." Geta demanded, taking the staircase slowly, keeping his eyes on his brother. The younger one stood shaking with fury as the elder led you to his room. Guards and servants followed, wordlessly seeing the pair of you behind closed doors. A couple of soldiers usually waited on either end of this hall, but tonight a few more lingered near in addition. These boys really hated each other.

Once locked in his room, safe from rage and question, Geta had you pinned against the wall. He'd usually greet you. He'd usually ask about what paintings you'd sold that day, or if you'd had any great stories of your family before they sold you to a husband. Or of your husband before he died. But tonight, Geta was ravenous. Tonight, he moved more accordingly to the rumors you'd once heard about him.

The emperor didn't fuss with your clothes. He didn't give you time to unravel his either. No sooner than his hand had crept up the skirt of your dress, was he rocking his hips into yours, pounding your back against the wall.

Your nails clawed at the back of his neck and your legs curled to flex around his waist. Geta was relentless as his body hammered into yours. He huffed harder with each new pulse and let out some cursed sighs when your teeth pierced into his shoulder, to keep from screeching all the same. You knew the guards could hear from the hall. But they didn't need to hear more than they had too.

His efforts had ended, his face stayed buried in your neck. But you weren't ready for it to cease.

"You think you're finished? You're only just getting started." You barked, pawing at Geta's head and forearm, shoving him downward. He didn't hesitate, his knees cracked to the floor with force you knew had to hurt. But he didn't seem phased. Geta seemed entirely entranced on bending your knee over his shoulder. Scratching his fingers along your skin. Burying his head between your legs. And he did so consciously, like a duty being fulfilled. He was relentless tonight, and you felt lucky to be relented against.

When your pleasure had ended, and you were left to slide from the wall to find footing, you found the wine too.

"Well, I can't help solve Rome's problems," You began, pouring you each a drink. "But I hope I've just helped solve some of your own, your highness." You half mocked, but half spoke in well-meaning regard. Geta hummed somewhere behind you. His voice sounded nearby. But his hands fell to close the space between you, gripping at the hilt of your hips.

"Dunno, might need to try a couple more times." You could hear the smile in his tone, and you felt his sultry chuckle against your neck, where he nearly dared to place a kiss, but didn't. Geta only reached ahead for his chalice, and asked about your day.

///

You didn't need to sell paintings. You could've lived a basic enough life, fed from the food you grew in your garden, rested from the comfort of your own bed. Secure enough in your late spouses left over finances.

You had known married life for all of five years. Wed before you'd even turned old enough to know better. All because your parents thought it best. They said you'd been sold to a husband to take care of you, in the long run. He did care for you, in his own twisted way. He kept you fed and housed until he died. And he left all his meager earnings to you in his passing. It wasn't much, but it was enough for you, for now, for a while.

You started painting when you moved in with him, to fill the days that dragged on so endlessly. You dreamed of freedom from the man for so long. And kept painting when he died, to fill those same days that were just as endless and a lot quieter to boot. He'd left you all alone in the expanses of the great wide world, yet freedom seemed even more unobtainable to you then, somehow. So, you painted. And decidedly started selling those paintings when the house filled up without room for any more of them. You kept selling them when you realized how eagerly peers bought from you.

You'd made friends down at the stalls. You found a quaint routine there, waiting in the sun to trade paintings for coins, and chattering with townspeople while the mornings stayed young. Bakers and seamstresses and writers alike shared your routine, all becoming familiar faces you were pleased to see each day.

"Goodmorning, you!" A trio of girls your age came giggling your way. Girls you'd invited over a few times. Girls you were happy to see now.

"Listen, are you going to the games in three day's time? I'd like us all to twirl about the colosseum buzzed on vino, carefree!" The small brunette leaned across the table your art was displayed on.

"She just wants to go to wait on Geta, afterward. He always invites girls in after the games." The blonde rolled her eyes, leaning against the post of your stall as you chuckled in understanding, and out of sudden apprehension. You and Geta agreed to your trysts because he trusted how discreet you could be. When you refused to bend your will to give the names of the people you pawned his ring to, he admired that. You couldn't give yourself away, now.

"But haven't you heard?" The redhead leaned in, waving you all to listen closer. "Geta hasn't invited any of the girls that wait at the empire gates in, in weeks."

You'd often trailed in past that very line of girls in question, much to their growing displeasure. Luckily, none of them were from the side of the country you had resided. None of them could spread your name around in whispers, as they did not know it.

"I'm still eager to take my chances." The brunette joked, going on to beg you to come to the games at the colosseum.

"I don't know." Was the best answer you could give without disappointing your friends, or thinking up a messy lie on the spot.

///

Another night in Geta's room was unusually spent in his bed. You'd been used to being forced against a chest of drawers, his voice growling in your ear. Or yours demanding the emperor sit on the stool before the table of wine, and wait in agony like a good, obedient, merciful ruler.

But tonight, Geta had you moving slower in his sheets. He'd closed his eyes as your hips rocked atop his, nice and easy. And when he reached to flip you over, his core pierced languidly into yours. His hand brushed across your cheek and his eyes stayed steadily locked on yours.

"Are you feeling quite alright?" You couldn't help but worry, too overcome with the silence that fell about the room. Geta had been resting at your side, his finger tracing the same pattern against your stomach forever.

"What if you stayed, tonight?" The ruler asked, after a while.

"You didn't answer my question. You realized, still confused as to what mood you'd found Geta in tonight. You'd been often surprised by his wit and his resolution. But this wasn't a way you'd known the emperor before.

"You didn't answer mine either." He pointed, finger still dancing across the skin of your abdomen. You turned your head to find Geta's gaze. His head rested on a pillow at your side, his eyes rolling up to lock with yours. His dark brown stare was illuminating. His curls graced his head so delicately. His silence was so reticent this night. Maybe it was the fact neither of you had had any wine.

"I'll stay if you tell me what's going on in that head of yours." You shot a pointed look to the man at your side who let a lifeless smile flash across his lips as his eyes turned away from yours. Silence filled the room once more, but you got the sense that Geta was choosing his words a while.

"Nothing... none of this is how I thought it would be." Geta spoke. You kept your eyes cast across his amber lit room, fixating on the pattern of the wallpaper. What did he mean?

"What's this?" You quizzed. "Ruling an empire? Sleeping with me? Sobriety from wine for a night?" You tried to joke, desperate for some kind of clarity.

"None of it." Geta responded, his inflection implying everything you listed was weighing on his mind then. And that surprised you. He was always surprising you. Silence settled yet again, and stayed for a while. It was Geta who broke it, after so long. He sat up to meet your eye, searching your gaze before offering a nod. You nodded back, knowing that meant your promise to stay here had been sealed. He rose from the bed to dim the candles, and crashed back into it with a sigh.

When Geta rested his head of golden curls on your chest, in the dark and quiet of his room, you finally understood what he meant. This was all very different now, than it started. None of it had turned out in an expected way. But you felt at ease with it all. You hadn't shared a bed with anyone since your late husband, and those times simply did not count in your mind. You did not care for that man as you had come to care for the one laying against you now. And that dawned on you in fear. But then, a realization that it didn't matter. Not now. Now, you got to rest under the weight of the emperor, for one peaceful night.

///

The next morning was bright and felt early in your bones. And it wasn't long before it hit you, the games were meant to happen today. Geta's stirring at your side was a relished wonder, as his smile widened to see you upon waking. But it all came crashing down as servants and soldiers demanded quick work of getting up and ready for the day of events.

"It will be too hard to send you away now, with all the crowds starting to gather." Geta realized, peering from the window of his room to the public below. "I'll have some appropriate attire sent for you. You shall join us today." The emperor's smile was bitten back, but you saw it reached his eyes as his looked into yours.

Things were shifting with Geta. Night's were turning into days with him. Festivities were offered to be shared. You knew better than to ask. You knew better than to wonder why. You simply thanked him for his offer and waited for clothes to change into as the leader headed out of his room, yelling for a guard to hurry along and follow. You milled about Geta's room, admiring the wallpaper in the daylight. Admiring the stained glass of his window. You traced your finger along carved chests and bed posts. You dared to open a drawer, finding a collection of jewelry there, a familiar blue stoned ring at the front of the collection.

You snapped the drawer shut in a hurry when a knock came across the door.

"Hello." A familiar face entered. Julia, the Emperors mother, twirled in the room with a stack of garments. "These are mine from seasons past. I brought a few, just in case." The woman was dear, with soft curls that matched her sons, gold earrings that brightened her blue eyes. She smiled and introduced herself as if she needed too. For her, you bowed.

"Such a pretty thing, you are." Julia cooed, resting her clothes at the foot of the emperor's bed before turning to consider you. "I've seen you come and go. Quite the feat to boast over. Geta never struggled to make friends, not like Caracalla. But he has failed to keep so many of them."

Julia kept a studying gaze on you as you thanked her for her kindness and watched her saunter out the door. The woman told you to meet the family downstairs once you readied yourself. That's when a certain anxiety settled in the pit of your stomach. What was this? What had you gotten yourself into? Worry plagued your mind as you squeezed into a bright blue and plum skirt. The fabric hugged at your figure but fell so elegantly to the floor. You never dreamed of such finery adorning you. You'd never dreamed of a life so different from the one you'd been used to living.

Downstairs, everyone had gathered, gearing up to head out. Guards of every kind kept the ruling brothers on either side of the room while Julia flitted about, laughing with a man you didn't know. Senators and councilors seemed to mingle with the family just as well, their wives and children patiently lingering on the outskirts of the gathering.

When Julia found you descending the stairs her first greeting after a smile was to tell you how perfectly the dress fit, how powerful you seemed entering the room. She said you held a certain presence about you, keeping a watchful eye on your expression as you gushed to thank her for such continued kindness.

And then you were off, trailing with the wives and the children of the party as the royal family presented themselves before the public. They were loved and hated so that the cheers and boo's from the crowd muddled together in an indistinguishable roar. Your heart pounded to realize how close you were to the action of the day, to realize how viscerally the opinion of the public mattered to the fate of the royals.

You watched Caracalla pull some face, pointing a finger at a citizen who cursed his name on the families walk toward the colosseum. You watched women line themselves along the path Geta walked, his politics be damned. You watched as he turned to look back, smile stretching wider as his eyes found yours. You watched then, as Julia stalled to join your side, and failed to calm the quickening of your heart as she held your arm to walk with you. None of this was how it used to be.

The woman leaned in, explaining exactly how today's games were meant to go. She yammered about the history of it all and pulled a few giggles from your throat as she threw in some personal deadly details about old games she'd bore witness too.

Once you'd all reached the colosseum, the brothers were ushered off to find their royal box, while Julia strategically placed you just outside of there. She frowned when she reminded you could not be allowed to join them further than here, but smiled when she hoped you'd enjoy the day's events. You watched her saunter off, stopping a guard and pointing in your direction before she disappeared in the box all the while. The guard locked his gaze with yours, offering a respectful nod as you considered your surroundings.

All kinds of vendors and stalls were open around every entrance of the arena. All kinds of people wandered about, sampling food and drink, playing cards at tables until the event's kicked off. You decidedly began to wander about, accepting free samples and smiling to people you'd seen in passing. You shielded your eyes from the sun and noticed that guard trailing nearby, keeping a steady eye on your every move.

When the crowds began to clamor toward the inside of the arena, you realized the games were about to begin. You downed a free sample of wine and found your way to watch from afar. Caracalla and Geta were announced in, and greeted with that same muddled roar of praise and disregard. You watched as Geta ate up the attention. You watched as Caracalla fought against it, spitting and arguing with some poor guard in the box. There was something so volatile in the air, as if one wrong move from either of the emperors would unleash havoc. The public was only one excitable realization away from realizing their joined forces could rip the royals from limb to limb. Geta was quick to shift focus to the games, demanding the publics energy be reserved for the battles that were begun, turning the spotlight away from himself. It was a tactical move, but you worried if he and his brother did not change the course of their political actions soon, no amount of pantomime could save them.

Another few swallows of wine helped ease your nerves, all the while. You'd forgotten how on edge the public had only just seemed. You'd been entranced by Geta's presence even from so many miles away. His distraction's had worked wonders on the crowd, his excitable reactions to the winners and losers kept the arena entertained for the better, for now. He kept you entertained all the while. When he would tear his gaze from the games every once and a while, you liked to imagine he was looking for wherever you might've been.

When you wandered off to find more wine, the guard that had been following you stayed back, glued to the battle that was happening. You returned with two cups, to share. The guard tried to deny your kindness but caved with a smile at your insistence to have at least one drink. It was a day of festivities after all.

"We thought you weren't going to make it!" A voice familiar echoed over your ear. Turning from the view of the battle, you found your friends. You chuckled as you greeted the small brunette, buzzed enough off wine to shrug your nerves away. You couldn't exactly explain how you ended up here, to them. Or how you'd come to dress so finely. But they didn't pester you too much about it, drunk all the same. The girls swarmed you with giggles and hello's and how are you's.

"Change your mind, have you?" The blonde teased, raising her brow at you. But your mind was too slow to understand why.

"This is the gate the royals always leave from. Isn't it obvious?" The small brunette pointed, waving her hand to gesture around. When you glanced up, you noticed a particularly increasing population of young women that had begun to collect around the area. Geta always famously exited from this path, and always famously collected a girl or two to follow him back to the royal hall.

"Oh, no, I just sort of-" You stumbled over words, "ended up on this side." How were you to explain this all away? "I actually... should be going now that it's nearing an end. Get home before sun set." This reason sounded good enough in your head to speak aloud, as you began to walk backward, waving to your friends all the while. You spun on your heels, anxious to get away, making up your mind to head home should that be your only sound escape. But you'd barely walked a dozen paces before that guard was gliding close and halting your leave.

"You're not to go. I'm to see you united with her highness when she passes through that exit."

"Is- is that what she ordered?" You asked meekly, looking up to the roman soldier who loomed over you with his bulky build, yet kind eyes. The man did not speak, but lifted a hand to spin you around by the shoulder, placing a gentle palm there to guide you back where you came from. You saw your friends notice, perplexed gaze's settled on your march as you stepped closer to where they'd stayed waiting.

Caracalla was the first one to storm through the arched entrance, scowling at you on his storm toward his chariot. But then, a spectator, too drunk for his own good, began to slur insults to the emperor. The fellow had barely began cursing Caracalla's name, before the ruler stepped close to grab the man by his throat, strong enough to lift him to the tips of his dirty toes. The citizen struggled to breathe, squirming for relief. Caracalla shouted in the man's face, something about knowing better. The ruler let go, the citizen dropped to the floor in a rattled gasp. When Caracalla demanded the guards that followed him, to slaughter the citizen still choking for breath on the ground, you'd had enough.

"Do not do that. Have you such little mercy?" It wasn't to be helped, the way your body and mind worked together to force out a shout. You should have been more afraid of the way Caracalla turned to fix his fiery gaze on you. But rage at the senseless violence was all you could feel. Yet, the guards were already slashing their swords at the belly of the the citizen, so he might suffer still before passing.

Caracalla stood considering you, longer than you expected. The crowds fell silent, the only noises were the hoarse cries from the dying man. And your heart hammering in place.

Caracalla moved his look from you, to the guard steady at your side, and back to you. His head shook, and a scoff left his throat. He turned to leave, kicking the man he'd murdered on his exit. Your body shook with panic. Your stomach churned at the realization that you'd escaped yet another royal execution.

The crowds parted to let Caracalla pass, steering clear of the angry little man. Your friends seemed to think of walking closer to where the guard had stalled you to wait. But their confounded and horrified expressions morphed into something more wonder filled, as their collective eye unfocused from your position.

You were too busy assessing your friend's questioning gazes to see he'd appeared. But instead, you heard Geta's voice in your ear.

"I'd say you're lucky he spared you. But I think there are more powerful forces than luck working on your side." You heard him say. Your friend's gazes had no doubt been locked on the emperor, but soon fell more perplexed onto you, yet again. And then you realized everyone's eyes had shifted to you. The entire crowd that had watched you speak against the vindictive leader just ahead. The same crow that had pushed closer to wait for a scrap of attention from the man that spoke to only you, now, was casting a collective stupefied glare right at you.

"I'd like to take you away now, but I'll have you wait on my mother. She hasn't stopped bringing up your name since this day has begun." Geta stayed speaking lowly, and you nodded to assure you understood, keeping your nervous gaze cast on the crowd that had fixated their attentions on you. "Do not worry though, tonight we can debrief in more ways than one."

You had to turn and grin at him then, pleased to see he'd waited to share a smirk with you. He was off no sooner though, parting through the crowd with little acknowledgement their way. Your friends kept their slack jawed gazes set on you as you wondered for a beat about saying something to them. But then Julia was sweeping you away, resting her clutch at the bend of your arm like she'd done before.

They watched you leave, just as everyone had. You shot your friends a quick shrug and an expression you hoped they'd understand meant you'd catch them all up later, if ever you could dream up a good enough fib.

Unlike your journey here, Julia asked all about you on your trek back. You gave thoughtful answers, not daring to spare the truth of your meager life to the woman, but hoping the way you spoke of it would endear you to her somehow. It wasn't like you needed to be adored by Julia. But you did long to be respected in some basic human way, by the royal woman.

///

That evening went on strangely. Caracalla locked himself away in the furthest parts of the halls. No one dared speak about him in his absence. No one had dared to allude to his fury or righteousness at all. Instead, the tone of the evening was rather merry. You shared a meal with a mile long table of strangers, glad all the while to have been welcomed in the celebrations of the day. You gabbed with socialites and senators alike, until one by one they headed for home and bed. Try as you might to take your leave, Julia would not let you. She only kept dragging you from guest to guest to introduce. Until you were the last one standing. Until even Julia had made her exit from the room, Geta too. Leaving you to wait in the parlor until further command.

A pair of guards stood unmoving near the doors, as you sat at the head of the dirty table. There were plates and glasses and saucers left awry, covered in crumbs for the kitchen maids to come and handle. There was a steady crackling fire on the opposite end of the room. There was wallpaper that didn't put your senses at ease the way the kind in Geta's room often had.

When the sound of the door opening stirred you from blank thoughts, you shifted to stand. Julia was easing into the room, smile and curls soft as ever. Eye's full of a certain kind of knowing. Behind her, Geta followed. His mother spoke your name, as if to grab your attention, as if she didn't already have it.

"You're not to return home." The woman began, gliding to stall before you. Geta shouldered past her, moving to stand at your side and watching as his mother spoke. "I've noticed you come and go, as I mentioned." Julia went on. "And I've noticed how my son has been less fraught, during the time you've been around. I've heard you speak, and I've seen you command a presence in any room you enter."

"What are you on about? What is this?" Geta demanded, that brooding gaze of his beginning to darken as understanding evaded him.

"As good as she has been for you, son, I'm certain she'll benefit our empire just as well." Julia glanced to Geta before her gaze settled unmovably on yours. Your chest filled with the weight of a realization. Your mind buzzed with wonders of her implications. "You will marry in two days time. Enough to spread the news across the public, and plan something grand."

"Marry?" You breathed, feeling your heart hammer in your stomach.

"You actually don't-" Geta began.

"I actually am watching this empire teeter on the edge of collapse." Julia interrupted Geta, causing his jaw to clench and his brow to darken further than before. "If we do not start moving more intentionally in the direction of change, you and your brother will ruin everything. If you marry this girl, you will marry someone from the very public you've been so often accused of dismissing. This girl is clearly capable of not only earning our family greater public favor. But she would be your bride, and you two together would have a better chance of making sense of this empire than your brother. Caracalla cannot be allowed to overpower your rule, Geta. Do you realize how close that idea is to becoming our reality?" Julia was insistent. "You do not have a choice. This has to happen. For all our fates." She was looking right at you again.

You were shaken, stunned, totally unprepared. Just days ago you were living such a carefree reality, all you knew were paints and pleasure by way of the emperor's hands. But now all of a sudden, all of Rome's fate depended on if you stayed standing here or made a break to sprint for the door.

"Get out." Geta pointed, coldly dismissing his mother. She began to argue back, pleading his name to listen. "Get out! I command it!" Geta was fuming, rage becoming his entire essence. You couldn't help but screw your eyes shut at the boom of his voice. You heard a guard approach to see the royal mother out of the door. She went without a fight, but insisted Geta had no choice, insisting she was already making plans to assure this fate for the both of you. As one guard saw her out of the room, the other followed, leaving you and Geta alone in the room with the ugly wallpaper.

The fire stayed crackling in the corner. The table stayed dirty. Geta began to pace, like he did, hands on his hips, head shaking in an effort to make sense of things.

"You are quiet." He spoke up, softer than he had spoken all night.

"I am choiceless." You warbled. Hadn't this already happened to you? Hadn't you already been forced to wed a man for the betterment of some kind of future? You thought you'd already paid your dues. You thought freedom was supposed to be promised at some point. You thought you'd had it, just days ago. But even still you were captured by the powers that be. It wasn't like you were opposed to being Geta's bride. But you were rocked to realize it didn't matter what you wanted, in this life. It was just going to keep happening to you, against you, despite you.

You watched as Geta sped up his pace, thinking. His eyes danced as if to keep up with an invisible coming together idea. And then his moving stalled. He rolled his shoulders and let his eyes rake up your figure, like they so often did. Geta's brown stare bore into yours, as if to search for an answer to a question not yet asked.

"You claim to have been born to die." Geta gestured, sauntering closer. "I claim to have been born to rule. But we have failed to consider what there could be to live for. I have reason to believe my answer to living lies within you." His speech was imploring. He meant it. He only ever spoke with authority, by that you weren't surprised. But by his meaning, by the tenderness in it, you were. "As ruler, I shall make the final decision regarding my mother's demands. But... I shall also wait here in silence as you choose your fate. I will command no guard after you should you flee. This time, this wedding, you'll be allowed to choose."

"Should I flee, will there be fines? Will I forever be in your debt somehow?"

"I shall see to it that you owe nothing to this empire if you leave it. But you must leave it entirely, you must go far from here. It's the only way I could make these guarantees."

"Should I stay..."

Geta loomed closer, until his breath fanned across your face. So close you could see the golds speckled across the brown of his eyes. Close enough to kiss.

"I would see to your value." Geta breathed, stalling an inch before you. "Your profile on coins. Your voice heard above others. Your throne... My bed... I'd see to it."

Your heart hadn't stopped pounding since this conversation spun to life. But it beat harder yet, at Geta's tone and implication now.

"Take my hand." Geta held an open face palm before you. "Or turn away." You glanced to the door.

You considered all that lie beyond it, the quiet, the vastness. The race to the finish line of life would be slow and steady outside these doors. Your freedom would be quiet and lonely. Then you turned to Geta and saw a different kind of future to consider. And then a thought dawned on you. What if the freedom you'd always been in search of, was not just yours alone? What if an entire empires fate had always been pressed into the back of your heart, clear in the front of your mind only now that you understood everything Julia had said. You thought of your latest painting. The one with the sheep and the sunset. You wondered if maybe it was a sunrise all along.

Your hand flexed, knuckles deciding between clenching and raising up. Until suddenly your palm was in Getas. Until suddenly your fate, and all of Rome's, had been sealed.

///

Part 2 Coming Soon...

#joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #emperor geta #emperor geta fanfic #geta x reader #gladiator 2 #joseph quinn x reader #fem!reader #joe quinn smut #minors dni

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augustinewrites · 2 years ago

Note

what are reader’s thoughts about gojo’s black shirt look (similar to what we see in jjk 221) aka what does she think of that bod (＾▽＾)

afternoons were busy, in your experience. the school was awake and alive with energy, bodies moving to and fro as they worked through the day's tasks.

at this time, just after lunch, people typically stopped by your office. whether it was megumi stopping by for a reprieve from his larger than life friends, shoko coming to drag you out for a late lunch, or gojo coming to sprawl himself out on your couch.

so when the sun is high in the sky and no one has come to bother you, you're a little concerned.

when you inquire principal yaga about this, he says he'd last seen nanami headed towards the training grounds. naturally, that's the first place you go. surely he can help you round up your students and their other teacher.

when you arrive at the training grounds, you're surprised to see the first and second year students gathered there, including shoko, watching something just out of your periphery.

"what are you guys doing?" you ask, catching shoko's attention.

she simply gestures to the main area. "sight-seeing."

"sight-seeing?" you frown. "this is the training grounds."

"i know."

you follow her line of sight, curious to see what's gotten everyone's attention.

oh.

the summer breeze combined with the afternoon sun seems to have prompted nanami and gojo to shed a few layers of clothing as they sparred. nanami's abandoned his blazer, the sleeves of his blue dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, and the topmost buttons undone.

gojo's thrown his jacket aside, leaving him in a nicely fitted black t-shirt.

wordlessly, you lower yourself to sit next to shoko.

with his loose-fitting uniform, it was easy to forget how brawny your fiancé was. now you could see everything. broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist and long legs.

he's handling himself in hand-to-hand combat against nanami with ease, footwork practiced and posture immaculate. his body is tight, muscular, rigid. the tension of his toned biceps just right as he swings at the blond. he smirks when it connects and the sorcerer is knocked backward a few steps. it's horribly attractive.

"hey," shoko interrupts your daydreaming when she nudges you. "did you need something?"

you're too busy tracking a drop of sweat rolling down the side of gojo's throat to recall. "i don't remember."

you can't really focus when he's panting like that, chest heaving and tongue darting out to glide across his bottom lip. he grunts with the effort of deflecting a hit, his muscles flexing as he maneuvers his torso to avoid a follow up. when his shirt rides up, you absolutely don't think about where that white trail of hair below his navel leads, heat pooling in your gut as--

"why aren't you both working?"

you both jump as if you'd been caught doing something illegal as principal yaga steps in front of you, arms crossed.

"sorry, sir," you apologize, bowing your head as your face heats up.

_____

gojo is equal parts confused and aroused when he steps into your office and you immediately lock the door behind him. this may or may not have been the beginning of a fantasy of his.

“noticed you oogling me earlier,” he smirks. then he pauses, thinking. “or is it ogling? am i saying it right?”

“satoru?”

“yeah babe?”

“shut up.”

he's half convinced this is a fantasy when you grab the front of his shirt and pull him close, hungrily pressing your lips to his.

he goes to lift them hem of his shirt up, but you stop him, muttering,

keep it on.

well, he thinks as you trail kisses down the column of his throat.

if you say so.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #keeping up with the fushigojos: extended cut!

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cottonlemonade · 2 months ago

Text

First Date

word count: 1027 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: University AU!Matsukawa x chubby!Reader

genre: suggestive fluff

warnings: mdni

request: watching Goosebumps with pumpkin-spice popcorn, dressed as a shark with Issei || fluffy-spicy, watching a scary movie with crush Matsukawa

Issei had it all planned out.

Ask the hottest, most drool-worthy girl in his year on a date - check.

Make the invite something that wasn‘t downright romantic at first glance - going to see a horror movie - check.

Be casual about it - uhm…

And whatever the cost, do not seem desperate. Yeah. That one definitely needed some work.

But none of that mattered anymore because he sat down next to you in the movie theater, joining the many many other couples with people giving each other discreet head nods about the one collective plan - play the protector for your date.

30 minutes into the movie it all started to go according to plan. Nothing super scary had happened yet but he felt you lean further towards him as time went on. The first truly scary scene had you bury your face in his shoulder and, ever the suave knight in shining armor, Issei smoothly wrapped his arm around you for comfort. He was so distracted by watching you squirrel away the popcorn that he missed the straw a few times as he tried to take a sip of lemonade and during the next jumpscare that had the whole movie theater scream in surprise (he was definitely the loudest and highest) the lid of his soda cup popped off and the ice-cold liquid poured all over your shirt and jeans.

Fumbling for his jacket pocket he produced a very squished, lint-covered tissue packet, pulled one sheet out, and began dabbing, realizing a moment later where his hand was and what it was doing. His movements didn’t stop, but just kind of slowed.

“I‘m so sorry.“, he whisper-yelled and you simply shook your head, excusing yourself to the bathroom.

Issei felt like an idiot, a sentiment not entirely foreign to him from his time in high school.

As the movie went on he kept bouncing his leg and checking his watch. When you hadn‘t returned three and a half minutes later he jumped up and went to look for you, ready to grovel.

His apology speech began the moment he pushed open the door to the ladies‘ room and was met with an indignant yell of a middle aged woman who just fixed her hair in the mirror.

Bowing over and over he let her pass and then spotted you, standing by the sink, your shirt very much in your hands and not on your body, running it under the faucet.

You just stared at him, the only sound in the otherwise empty bathroom being the running water that you turned off a moment later.

“I am so sorry.“, he repeated, “The lid was probably not…“ He trailed off. You had turned to him to show you were listening and he didn‘t know where to look anymore. The pouch of your tummy in obvious need of lovingly blown raspberries, your love handles that called out to him to be grabbed, or your breasts, very much shimmering with water and residual soda in a pretty lace-trimmed bra. He forced himself to look in your eyes, lost his train of thought, and then focused on a spot somewhere a little south of your left ear lobe - also, he possibly stopped breathing altogether.

“Don‘t strain yourself.“, you scoffed teasingly.

After another look he met your eyes again and continued, “As I was saying, the lid was clearly not properly … lidded on the cup and yeah, I may or may not have squeezed the cup a little but I didn‘t mean to douse you in lemonade.“

“It‘s okay.“, you chuckled and turned back to the sink to take another shot at the bright yellow stain on the white shirt.

He stepped closer, genuinely trying to find a way to help but his eyes were instantly drawn to your boobs again and to his absolute horror, he swallowed - audibly - at the sight.

“Yes, Issei?“, you asked sweetly, obviously greatly enjoying his reactions.

“In my defense, they started it. - Sorry, ahem I meant- Let me help.“ He reached for the top in your hand and his forearm grazed your tummy, turning him effectively to goo and resulting in the shirt being dropped to the floor.

You clicked your tongue and went to pick it up. But when you straightened, your eyes were focused on his pants. He looked down and saw the very visible outline straining against his thigh.

You raised a brow, “Are you…?“

“How could I not be when I first touch and then see the world‘s softest boobs.“, he muttered, almost accusingly but definitely distraught, to your cleavage.

You tilted your head to catch his eyes and he noticed a mischievous glint now sparkling in your look under the fluorescent lights.

Maybe, just maybe, if he asked really nicely, he could offer to kiss the remaining soda drops off your skin. He extended his metaphorical feelers, trying to suss out the mood in the movie theater ladies‘ room. Then Oikawa‘s number one rule he had once mentioned when giving him unprompted dating tips came to his mind: Don‘t be a creep.

Issei figured that his humble request could possibly be construed as “creepy“ under the wrong circumstances.

Well, this and any other fantasy that shot through his mind as his eyes once again became transfixed by various parts of your body.

“Okay, time‘s up.“, you grinned as you pulled the still rather wet shirt back over your head, the fabric sticking unfairly to every curve, divot, and bulge.

You made one final attempt at drying off the now relatively clean shirt with a handful of paper towels, then turned to him.

“You coming?“

It was a truly unfortunate choice of words in his opinion.

“You go ahead, I have to uhm… take care of something.“

“This is still the ladies‘ room.“, you smirked.

“And unlike the men’s room, it smells like flowers! Now out, woman, I have things to do.“

With a loud cackle, you left the bathroom. Issei sighed and looked down at his problem, then jumped and shrieked a moment later when the door opened again and you poked your head inside, beaming at him with a wink, “Have fun~!“

art: @ppopporibb on Twitter

a/n: thank you to the anon for this request! I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing this silly idiot. 🌟

for requests see here

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ssahotchnerr · 1 year ago

Note

Aaron coming back from long cases with a bouquet for you and little girl Hotchner 😭🖤 her bouquet may just be a few stems from yours but it means the world to you. He won’t hand you the bouquet the way he buys it either, he’ll trim the stems and put it in a vase!!!

unconditional

omg stop 😭 i can't get enough of girl dad!aaron i just can't cw; fluff <3

when you wake up, aaron's fast asleep next to you.

the prior night when you went to bed, you were alone - just as you have been for the past, almost two weeks. a case has kept your aaron away from you and time since then has gone achingly slow - almost painful.

he looks adorable, with his face smushed into his pillow, his thick hair disheveled and the comforter pulled all the up to his chin. although you have the desperate urge to throw your arms around him for being gone for far too long, you let him sleep. he needs it; it seems as if he never nearly gets enough, and from his heavy sleep-tainted breaths, you can only imagine how exhausted he must've felt before succumbing to. after pressing the gentlest of kisses to his forehead, you quietly slide out of bed.

you first peek your head into jack's room, checking on him. it's early, and as you figured, he's still off in dreamland. since it happens to be saturday - no school and no morning soccer practice this week - like his father, you let him sleep.

when you peer into your daughter's room next, she's awake, standing up in her crib and her hands holding onto the rail. she grins at the sight of you, letting out a small squeal in excitement. with a smile on your face, you shush her as you approach, her pitch high enough to wake up the boys if continued.

when you finally trail into the kitchen, with baby girl hoisted on your hip and set on getting her breakfast started, you fall short in your tracks, your heart immediately warming at what you find.

on the counter, there's a bouquet of the prettiest flowers you swear you've ever seen. they're even extremely similar to the flowers you held on your wedding day, walking down the aisle towards aaron. it's a memory you'll never forget, and wish you could relive over and over again - aaron smiling from ear to ear, teary-eyed, looking as handsome as ever in a tuxedo. luckily, that's what photos are for.

besides it, is a smaller, glass cup. it's filled with a few flowers from your bunch; the matching display is only a bit smaller, notably for your daughter. aaron even took the extra time to trim them before he went to bed, so they're not towering out, or is the weight of gravity pulling the petals down towards the surface of the counter.

and for jack, who wouldn't be as thrilled receiving flowers, there's a mini lego set - a small car to be put together.

the sweet gesture causes a swirl of emotions within you - aaron, as exhausted as he was and despite how late he returned, still took the time to show his unconditional love for you, and for both children.

you couldn't picture a more perfect start to the weekend, or a more perfect life.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine

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undead-supernova · 18 days ago

Text

Prologue - Chapter 1

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

plot: you and Mr. Munson are freshman english teachers at south jefferson high school and it seems that some of the kids think he's a better teacher than you. and, yeah, you're a little bit pissed

wc: 3.9k

no cw for this prologue - (lighthearted enemies to lovers)

a fun 2000s idea i had after watching the tv show English Teacher

title reference: We Are Going To Be Friends by The White Stripes

You were a curious moth to a smoldering flame. If anyone accused you of such a thing, you’d tell them they were crazy. And yet, here you were, staring at a piece of lined paper sticking out of a locker.

It belonged to Dustin Henderson, obvious from the Weird Al sticker stuck next to another of a retro baseball hat that read This is my thinking cap! Yeah, undoubtedly Dustin’s.

You thought about trying to push it back in so he could avoid some stupid bully ripping it. There was no reason for anyone to do that, but Dustin was a freshman and, well, he wasn’t exactly the most popular guy here.

Fuck it, you thought before taking a step forward.

As you touched the worn corner, you spotted your name poking out from the page. Next to it was…Mr. Munson’s?

You couldn’t help yourself from pulling it out just a little further.

I just think Mr. Munson is better

Huh?

You yanked the paper from the slit, fisting it with both hands as you scanned the page. That was undoubtedly his handwriting, haphazardly written like he was always thinking faster than he wrote.

So what the hell was Dustin Henderson doing saying that Mr. Munson was a better teacher than you? Dustin was in your class, not his! How the hell would he know?

A sudden flood of panic washed through you, causing you to throw a glance over to Aisha sitting farther up the hallway, scribbling away at something. She was always here before everyone else, begging you to give her homework early. Most days the answer was no. Most days.

But today, her attention seemed far away.

You looked back down, noticing a bunch of tally marks in pencil and pen. Even one was made with…an Expo marker? What the fuck?

she’s hot though, someone responded under Dustin’s comment, taunting you in red ink.

dude I’m dating Suzie

that doesn’t mean you can’t look

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

Why did this feel like betrayal? Why was the word gnawing at your gut? Why was it bringing that bagel you’d scarfed down this morning up to the surface?

“Find anything good?”

You startled, instinctively jumping backwards and into the chest of the person behind you. Whirling around, you were face-to-face with Mr. Munson himself.

This was the first time he’d spoken to you. Ever. You’d been here since last spring, subbing for a teacher on maternity leave before she decided to become a stay at home mom. The hiring process was much easier after that. You’d see him at staff meetings and watch him holding the door open for the students after school like he was herding zoo animals off of his arc.

And now here he was, looking way too put together for a Monday morning. He had a crisp white button down with a noticeably ironed black tie and his long hair skillfully tucked into a low bun. His shaggy bangs were freshly trimmed with little tendrils framing his face. You couldn’t help but think he was the only teacher here without dark circles under his eyes.

“I…” you trailed, trying to parse through everything that’s just happened. The tally marks. The comments. The other candidate standing in front of you. The sheer amount of tally marks declaring you inferior to said candidate.

Mr. Munson’s eyes flickered down at the page, eyebrows shooting up. Before you could respond, he plucked it from your fingers. He mouthed the words as he read, scanning intently.

And then he let out a wheeze of laughter.

“Dustin fuc—freaking, excuse me, Henderson. You know, he’s just—” He looked back up at you, grin fading as he noticed your deflated expression. “Woah, hey. Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, hurt your feelings or whatever.”

“It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine and you hated that it wasn’t fine.

There was an image that flashed briefly before your eyes, of a note stuck to your locker with gum. A love letter from your crush, the one you held to your chest with a death grip as you floated through the cafeteria to his table. The great swell of hope before the roar of laughter that ensued. Before he high-fived his friends and let you down hard.

But this wasn’t your hometown. The walls weren’t flecked in vertical lines of blue and gold. The lights didn’t signal a death sentence.

And standing in front of you was your colleague, stuck with you in this limbo between the past and the present.

“Don’t let it get you down or whatever. They’re just kids.”

You could’ve sworn he saw the swirling fog that lingered in your eyes. Was this him letting you down easy?

Then why does it feel like a jab?

Mr. Munson was acknowledged as the favorite teacher of the freshman class last semester. You’d caught the tail end of this recognition, watching him laugh and roll his eyes as he gave a quick salute and sat back down. Mr. Munson, who already had everything figured out within the first year of teaching here.

You opened your mouth, pathetically suppressing the urge to ask, How did you do it? What am I doing wrong?

But the wave of students coming through brought you back to the current moment, stifling any admittance of weakness.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you said. “Gotta run, bye.”

You turned.

“Isn’t your classroom that way?”

Wincing, you turned back around, watching a smirk fill Mr. Munson’s stupid face. His eyes flickered toward your classroom three doors down from his before back at you.

“Yep, thanks. I know where my classroom is.”

“Yeah, I bet you sure do.”

“Great.”

That was the last time you would ever speak to Edward Munson.

Two weeks after you two found the list, you’d decided to sit in the empty break room for lunch. Every time you went to the cafeteria, you saw Mr. Munson there, laughing with the music and band teacher, Chelsea Jennings.

The numerous times you’d tried sitting even slightly near them, you always heard Mr. Munson talking loudly about his Creative Writing elective. He’d rattle on about the short stories he’d assign them as models with authors even you didn’t know. Names that flew past your head, some even being professors from the local university you hadn’t attended. Professors that he still talked to.

You had taken up the Poetry elective, quickly updating the curriculum to include more female poets and sprinkle in some of the moderns. You’d desperately wanted to talk to someone else about it, but insecurity spread the second you realized all of your poets were well-known. But how could you ignore Emily Dickinson, Annie Finch, Pablo Neruda, and Mary Oliver?

Chelsea wasn’t the only one who talked to him so casually. The other teachers would greet him with such warm demeanours that it made you feel sick. George Bedding, the junior geometry teacher and Mathletes coach, ruffled Mr. Munson’s hair and pretended to punch him before sitting next to him. The fucking P.E. teacher and football coach, Shaun Atkins, even clapped a hand on his shoulder while heading towards the line for pizza day.

The few teachers that had been more than welcoming to you were never around for lunch. Angela Bradbury, one of the senior English teachers, was always helping students or hidden away in her room, nibbling on her Wonder Bread sandwiches while reading the latest romance novel. Sarah Stewart, an art teacher, was your closest ally but spent her lunches working on her own projects.

See? There was no need to be jealous of him. You weren’t stuck on the outs. You fit in just fine.

Or, at least, that’s what you once thought. Now you had no idea how you were being perceived. And if you hadn’t come to the break room today, you would’ve spiraled. Again.

The room was small, coated in depressing beige with flimsy cabinets filled with powdered creamer and Folger’s coffee that expired two months ago. The refrigerator could barely keep anything cold.

So, yeah, no one really came in here.

(The other teachers hid a coffee pot in one of the supply closets with the good creamer in a mini-fridge you’d all chipped in for. Rumor has it that even Principal Scott used it.)

You sat down at the folding table, lower back already aching from the lack of support the metal chair gave you. At least you wouldn’t run into Mr. Munson again.

He’d just laughed while you were in the throes of humiliation. You supposed he didn’t have to think much about it because he was the one who was winning. Even if he was just some guy in his mid-thirties who must’ve taken this job as a last resort.

As if you hadn’t done the same.

But that was irrelevant.

And, yes, you looked at Dustin a bit differently after the incident. Every time he raised his hand, which was a lot, you couldn’t help but see his penciled scrawl.

Mr. Munson is super fucking cool

You wondered dejectedly if they wrote that during your class.

Before you could let out a frustrated groan, you noticed Mr. Munson in the doorway with a metal lunchbox covered in band stickers. He paused, wide eyes locking with yours. You couldn’t help but glare.

Should the opinion of fourteen-year-old boys affect the way you treat another adult? No, probably not.

But you weren’t always known to be a rational person.

It could’ve been minutes. You couldn’t say. The two of you locked in a stare that seemed more like predator and prey than two teachers just trying to make it through another Tuesday. His dumb expression, dark eyes as wide as a deer caught in the fluorescence. You, a mountain lion trying desperately not to devour your sandwich, chips, and Coke in one bite. Including the aluminum can.

What was worse was the longer you stared, the more you noticed how attractive he was. Properly attractive, with lips coated in what seemed to be tinted chapstick. There was no way his lips were that pink, right? And he had to be using some kind of mascara with how dark his eyelashes were. Then there was his hair, seemingly still stuck in the Eighties with the waves. At least he brushed his hair at all, which was more than any of the greasy-haired teenage boys that frequented the halls. Maybe he could be something to aspire to.

Maybe he already was.

Mr. Munson moved silently, only heard as he pulled out the chair across from you, the legs screeching against the dirty linoleum. You surveyed his lunch, an already cooked ramen cup with a Dr. Pepper. He must’ve found a better microwave in Sarah’s closet.

The teachers of South Jefferson High School had a lot of secrets hidden in their closets.

You finally dug into your sandwich, nearly moaning in relief. The school had implemented some new rule that the kids couldn’t bring snacks or they’d be “confiscated.” This rule applied to the teachers as well which was fucking cruel. You’d said your tearful goodbyes to apple slices with caramel and coughing fits between periods because you’d tried to choke down packets of Cheez-Its.

However, you weren’t prepared to watch Mr. Munson heave noodles into his mouth with a plastic fork, slurping and sucking the entire time. You couldn’t help your grimace, desperately trying to hold back the sound of disgust in the back of your throat.

Until he looked up, stray noodles plopping back into the styrofoam.

“Uh, what kind of sandwich is that?”

He only swallowed after he posed his question. Jesus Christ, this was the guy the kids were deeming their favorite? If only they saw him like this.

“Turkey and provolone,” you responded curtly.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Really? ‘Cause I see other stuff on it.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Banana peppers and onion.”

“And lettuce.”

So much for that scared little deer. Now he was some annoying warthog or a fox trying to slither through chicken wire.

“Why are you interested in my sandwich?”

He shrugged, a hint of a smile growing in the corners of his lips. You hated it. “It, uh, looks good.”

“It’s Jersey Mike’s,” you said bluntly.

Mr. Munson only shrugged again. “I only have ramen at my apartment.”

“Right.”

“And that fridge is a piece of shit.”

“True.”

“Woah!” he exclaimed, a huff of laughter leaving his lips. “Did we just agree on something?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the feeling of being a teenage girl again. It figures you’d revert after being in this environment for so long, with the stinging scent of cleaning supplies and hormones spreading like diseases. But nothing prepared you for this to transport you back to a time once easily forgotten.

On instinct, your tongue grazed the front of your teeth, laving over the missing braces that hadn’t been there for nearly twenty years.

“Why do you care?” you snapped.

Something flickered across his eyes, too quick for you to distinguish. “Oh, I see,” he started, pointing his fork at you. It was then you noticed that it was in fact a spork. “You’re still pissed off about the list.”

You feigned a snort, waving him away as you took the final sip of your Coke. “What? No way.”

Another pearl of laughter flew out of him. “Has anyone told you you suck at lying?”

“Has anyone told you you’re annoying?”

As soon as it flew out of your mouth, you realized just how mean it sounded. You winced.

Mr. Munson let out another laugh but this one didn’t sound the same as the last. “If I had a penny for how many times I’ve been called annoying, I think I’d be, like, the wealthiest guy alive.”

“You’d surpass Bill Gates?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He pretended to think about it before nodding. “Oh, yeah.”

“Wow.”

You couldn’t help the ease you felt when he played along. But the irritation started right back up as he reopened his mouth.

“I know you’re impressed,” he teased. “It’s okay. Go ahead and gawk.”

“Yeah, I’m absolutely starstruck.”

“Don’t worry about the list.” When you rolled your eyes again, he added, “Seriously! Those guys are just bored. I bet you’re a great teacher.”

“Thanks.” You didn’t even pretend to mean it.

After another shovel of noodles, he said, “But, just between us, I am kinda the best English teacher here.”

You couldn’t help a third eye roll. “I sincerely doubt it.”

A smug grin filled his face. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be sponsoring the new book club next semester.”

A flare of anger flooded your veins.

“What?”

“Don’t get too jealous there,” he teased.

You shook your head. “No, I’m sponsoring the book club.”

He let out a hum and tilted his head. “You sure? ‘Cause I didn’t see your name on there.”

You scoffed. “I didn’t see Edward Munson on that list.” You said his name with a certain amount of venom that you knew wasn’t lost on him. His resulting scowl said it all.

He stood up, smoothing out his shirt and fiddling with his tie. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to deal with us being partners then.”

You were at a loss for words, unable to do anything but watch him move towards the door. “Been great talkin’ to you,” he said. He threw his napkin in the trash can before glancing at you over his shoulder. “I’m Edd-ie, by the way. Don’t wear it out.”

He walked away but you couldn’t help but throw a napkin at his fading figure. It made it as far as the end of the table.

That was the first moment you wondered why he’d decided to eat here in the first place.

“There must be some kind of mistake!” you exclaimed.

Principal Scott shook her head for probably the fourth time in two minutes. “I don’t see why you can’t work with Mr. Munson on this. If anything, that makes the club stronger.”

“It’s my chance to try and connect with these kids,” you explained, desperation leaking through your professional demeanor. “Ed—Mr. Munson has been here way longer than I have—”

“Only by a year,” she corrected, but you were far from over.

“ —and he has a leg up on me with them! I want to start making an impact! Kids these days are less interested in reading than ever before. It stopped being cool. What if I could inspire them to care? What if I could get them to read things that change their point of view on the world, to inspire them to think further outside of the little box their environment puts them in?”

Eddie was impressed by your speech, even if he wasn’t supposed to witness it. He’d actually been on the way here to talk to Principal Scott himself to try and keep his spot as the club’s head sponsor. Maybe keep you there but reduce your authority.

But then. Well. He heard you talk like this.

“And that’s great,” Principal Scott continued. “I just don’t see why you and Mr. Munson can’t do that together.”

“The kids like him,” you said before coughing. “At least, that’s how it seems.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “How am I supposed to do this work if he’s taking the spotlight? I’m just supposed to stay sidelined?”

He thought about the first time he saw you, at that first staff meeting you’d attended. You fidgeted a lot, all flustered and nervous like all new teachers were. Even in your fear, he thought you were pretty. Standing there, shifting from one heel to the other like you’d rather go barefoot than stand in the opposite corner.

You’d looked over at him at the same time, caught up in an awkward staring contest where both contestants refused to stop blinking and had no idea when to call it quits. It didn’t help that you seemingly relaxed at the connection. It was kind of adorable.

When he saw you in the halls after that, he found himself pausing to observe you. You were always there to wish the kids a good morning and a good rest of their day with a certain amount of sincerity that he could never muster. If there was a hyperventilating kid in the hallway, you were the first one to huddle them into your room to help them down from whatever ledge their raging hormones put them on that day.

Once, he’d walked past your room to see you opening a drawer while saying, “Don’t tell anyone about my secret stash, okay?” You pulled out a bowl of candy that even had his mouth watering. The student nodded her head, puffy-eyed but already reaching in. “If you promise to keep it a secret, you can come get candy whenever you want. How does that sound?”

If you were outside directing carpool, the worst of all the roulette wheel of responsibilities South Jefferson had to offer, you always seemed energized. Like it wasn’t a chore whatsoever.

He knew you cared about these kids. He did.

But you seemed to have absolutely lost it at the mere implication that you weren’t already everyone’s favorite English teacher. You’d developed some personal vendetta against him as if it was his fault that fourteen-year-olds with greasy hair, braces, and cruel acne flares thought better of him. Especially Dustin Henderson and his group of nerds. He meant that with all the love in the world, of course.

The way you spoke to him was more intriguing than infuriating. Amusing, even. But then you said his name with such disdain, such vitriol. It prodded at something deep inside him, a well of nearly forgotten memories that seemed to overflow the second you said his name like that.

So, yeah, maybe he was starting to develop a bit of a vendetta against you.

Eddie had to shift his plans. Clearly you weren’t going to give up easily. Maybe he’d annoy you to the brink of insanity and get you to drop your sponsorship. He’d always had proficiency in that skill. Besides, it wasn’t too mean. What was another push?

“Don’t you think you’ll get better turnout rates if he’s there?” Principal Scott reasoned. “If the kids like him so much, you can use that to your advantage—and his. I know Mr. Munson is a dedicated teacher. He’s given your speech to me dozens of times about things that quite frankly matter less. He’s passionate. Just try to work together. It doesn’t have to be that complicated.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “Fine. I can do that. Thank you for your time, Principal Scott.”

“Call me Carrie.”

“Yes, thank you, Carrie. I’ll see what I can do.”

Eddie thought about walking away. Really, he did.

But there was a part of him that really wanted to see you. Your figure had been obscured by the doorframe and, sure, he’d gotten enough from your words alone.

Nothing prepared him for the sight before him. You were utterly defeated, scratching at your neck as you hunched forward. The cross-strap bag you always carried was slipping off of your shoulder, causing you to groan as you fixed it.

As your eyes flickered up, he watched the scowl that seemed reserved for him deepen.

“What?” you challenged. “You wanna gloat?”

It was then Eddie realized he’d been grinning. He gestured to his face. “Was I not already gloating?”

“I can’t believe this,” you grumbled, quickly strolling past him.

But Eddie had a hard time knowing when to stop. And maybe, just maybe, he was solidifying his new plan. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

“You could take a picture, you know,” he continued. “just so you can keep up with every face I have when I win.”

“Shut up.”

Oh, he could get this done before Christmas break was over. If he challenged himself enough, maybe by the end of next week.

“I can lend you a camera if you’d like.”

You halted with a huff. “I’m trying to get things done for these kids. I’m trying to help them. Do you not get that? Or is this just a mask you wear to make people like you?”

Eddie tried to disguise the quirk of his eyebrow as he considered your words. But judging by the upwards flick of your eyes, he knew he’d been caught.

What was it that you saw in him that hadn’t been uncovered since his youth?

“You think so low of me.”

“I haven’t been given a reason to indicate any other kind of reaction to you and your incessant need to be a pest at any given time of the day.”

Eddie resisted the urge to give you a slow clap. Instead, he settled on “You done?”

You took a deep breath before nodding. “Yes.” Something seemed to shift as you took another deep breath and straightened your posture. “Winter break is coming up next week. We should try to figure out how to make this work. Why don’t we go get coffee or something and hammer out the kinks.”

“I think that is a great idea,” he replied, his tone more mocking than anything. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You opened your mouth, seemingly to say one thing before hesitating and starting over. “Meet me next Tuesday at Java Bean at one p-m.”

Eddie grinned, smugly wondering what your reaction would be when he said his next words. Professionalism be damned.

“It’s a date.”

Your eyes widened, amusing Eddie to no end. Oh, yeah. That hit something.

“Do you hear yourself?” you asked, nearly scoffing at him.

There were those eyes of yours, searching for something in his. As if you were both trying to find the truth behind your cement walls of defense. But you gave up first, spinning around and trudging down the hallway.

“See you Tuesday!” he called after you, smiling triumphantly when your shoulders locked up.

Oh, yeah. This would be a cake walk.

thank you to @jo-harrington for all the time she took helping me with the writing process and @littlexdeaths for always making the best dividers. i love you both so much it's hard to articulate.

#we are going to be friends series #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson/you #Eddie munson/reader #eddie munson fanfiction #y2k!Eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #Eddie munson x fem!reader

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lale-txt · 1 year ago

Text

what gets their heart pounding... ♡ [partly ns.fw] ↳ w/ Gojo, Geto, Nanami & Shiu

a/n: reader is gn! i've written these kinds of hcs for OP in the past and i am just so weak for the mix of fluff and a lil bit (a whole lot) spice (´⌣`ʃƪ) part two is already in the drafts, hehe

❦ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

discovering the snack drawer you keep for him at your place, because you know he has a sweet tooth and you want him to feel at home

when you lift his blindfold to gaze into his eyes, unaware that he’s drowning in yours as well

feeling how small your hands are compared to his when he interlaces his fingers with yours, your thumb drawing small circles on his skin while he holds your hand

the same hand wrapping around his length, a little greedy even, your thumb now rubbing over his dripping tip in a way that feels familiar

the small gasp you let out every damn time when he finally presses into you until he’s fully inside, your eyes fluttering open for a heartbeat until they close in bliss again till he starts moving

the vivid memory of you sinking your teeth into every part of him within your reach, trying to muffle your moans (you’re at school after all), and seeing his skin bloom with your tiny love bites the day after

❦ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

when you play absentmindedly with his hair while he rests his head in your lap on this hot summer day, both of you seeking out the shadows of the gingko trees

the sweet sound of your laughter, the one you only let out when it’s just the two of you and no one else around

wearing your scrunchie on his wrist because he tends to forget his hair ties often (you both know he doesn’t, he just wants an excuse to keep something that belongs to you so you’ll always come back to him)

the stolen kisses and how you part your lips for him so willingly, as if you want to invite his whole being into you

your fingers tangled in his hair while he pushes you against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, your panties still dangling from your ankle while he keeps thrusting inside of you

finding said panties in the pocket of his jacket the day after, the scent of yours still sticking to them, as well as the promise that you’ll meet again soon

❦ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

seeing all the bakeries all over town you pinned for you two to visit together when you have a day off

the ways your eyes light up outside of the shop windows already, pointing at all the baked goods you want to try with him, knowing it’s not about the food but about spending time together over something you both love

your thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth to wipe away a crumb, only for your lips to meet his shortly after in a gentle kiss

the longing in your eyes when you watch him undress, needy mewls when he takes his sweet time to hang up his suit neatly, unbuttoning his shirt slowly until you grow impatient and reach out to help him with hungry hands

your fingertips on his skin, exploring every inch of muscle as if he was carved from marble, and your lips trailing down his abs, your breath so hot and heavy on his skin

seeing you melt under his praise when you unbuckle his belt to free his aching cock, only to take it down your throat so, so deeply until your face is nuzzled against his trimmed happy trail

❦ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐔

your name popping up on his phone display, texting him at random times of the day to tell him how much you miss him while he’s busy with clients, you being sweetly unaware how much it means to him

hearing you laugh softly when he calls you by your favorite pet name, knowing how easily he can charm you like that

seeing you wear the expensive gifts he got you, fingers sliding over the necklace around your throat as if to claim you as his and his only

your tongue swirling around his fingertips when he slides them in your mouth, eyes pinned on you while he cups your chin with his other hand, knowing you want to be good for him

how greedily you stick out your tongue to swallow his spit, eyes pleading him to make a mess out of you, one to remember

the sounds of flesh on flesh echoing from every wall when you get on your hands and knees for him, as if your insides were molded just for him

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #shiu x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #shiu kong x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jjk scenarios #jjk reader insert #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #shiu kong

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premierplaysolutions · 1 month ago

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How Do Music Play Panels Benefit Kids?

Are you also looking for a device for children that can play an important role in their overall development, be it emotionally, physically, in terms of creativity or anything else? For this, we think that if a child is connecting with music then we will see many good changes in him, hence we would like to recommend Music Play Panels. These can be installed anywhere and do not require a huge space.

#Playgrounds #School fencing #Early Years #Climbing Walls #Wooden Sheds #Musical Play Panels #School Playground Equipment #Daily Mile Tracks #Outdoor Gym for Schools #Trim Trails #Canopies and Shelters for Schools

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stvolanis · 8 months ago

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What about rafe with a reader who talks a lot land has a bubbly personality and he’s getting annoyed cause she’s just talking on and on and he’s already in a bad mood and so her just talking he’s getting annoyed and like he makes a comment of “why don’t you stop talking and put your mouth to a better use” (sorry for how badly worded this is)

hi! I kinda imagine this as maybe bestfriend!Rafe who kinda manipulates the reader yk? Also knocking two birds w/ one stone by adding a little bit from a different request, hope you don’t mind!💞

Rafe Cameron! who loves his silly little best friend who he’s had a claim on since 6th grade :). Always so sweet to him when you guys were in school together. Giving him the answers, walking with him to all your classes, rides home after school with you on aux cause how could he ever say no to you? Not to mention the fact that he knew you harbored a little crush on him—

Rafe Cameron! Who knew you were heavily inexperienced in the sexual realm of things, which he made sure of after he beat up every guy who even thought they’d be able to breathe the same air as you. He takes great pride in being able to teach you things no one else will. Of course you’d question it, looking up at him with those pretty doe eyes that make his cock pulse with confusion when you guys were in the back seat of his truck one day. “Rafey, I dunno if we should do this—feels weird.” You muttered, your hand tightly wrapped around his cock with his hand shoved down your pants. “Thought you wanted to take care of me, sweetheart? This is just what best friends are supposed to do.”

Rafe Cameron! Who’s been having an exhaustingly annoying day after another group fight between the kooks and pogues. He’s a little scratched up, moping around your house as you go on and on about why he shouldn’t have fought, what could have happened—and then suddenly trailing off to your favorite pasta shell? It was hurting his head. Too much for him to process as he rubbed his temple, watching you babble mindlessly.

Rafe Cameron! Who finally has had enough of your constant yapping. “God, baby, you ever shut the fuck up? Hm? Jus’ be fuckin’ quiet, little girl.” He hissed through clenched teeth, pinching your cheeks together harshly to cease your talking, yet the way your eyes watered and thighs clenched together didn’t go unnoticed. “Think you jus’ need somethin’ stuffed in there so you’ll shut up. That it?” He mocked. You looked up at him from your knees, confused as to what he was referring to.

Rafe Cameron! Who’s cock slapped against your waiting tongue in a taunting manner. Curved slightly, with trimmed hair at the base and heavy balls. His scent strong, consuming your mind with an aching throb between your thighs you knew only Rafe could help. “Gonna teach you how to suck dick like a pro, kay?” He urged, pushing his fat tip into your mouth, further and further till the sounds of you gagging and gasping for air around him was all he could hear, and tears running down your pretty face was all he could see. “That’s my girl. See? All you needed was some good dick to shut cha’little ass up, huh?” He cooed.

don’t be shy, ask to be a part of the tag list and request things!!

TAG LIST: @elvisalltheway101 @epthedream69 @claire-elvisgirl @elvisrealgf @littlehoneyposts @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @luxuriouslokistan-3 @foxevxid @sapriao @xiyingly @jazminsjaz @likeits2002 @www-interludeshadow-com @khxna @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @hockeyrat @rafeswhorejjsslut @peterpan-neverfails @sunflowerskenz @lemonadygirl @newavenger @bloobewy @hewwokitti3

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asterias-record-shop · 8 months ago

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cherry cola and popcorn (s.h.)

Steve Harrington was never one to repeat dates with you, someone he wanted to be his high school sweetheart for the rest of his life. But, when he realized how much you loved drive-in movie dates, he had to put that in the rotation of your dates. Tonight, though, was couples night at the drive in, and something just had Steve turned on. – 2.1K words

Steve wanted to get you flowers. Your favorite flowers, specifically.

He didn’t really get anyone flowers until he got with you, and he saw how much you loved getting them, so stopping by your house to pick you up for the movie before walking in to watch you lovingly cut the flowers to put into a vase.

After picking his favorite bouquet that reminded him of you, he walked back to his car and drove to your house to pick you up – aware of the fact that what he probably just thought up would most likely happen.

So when he knocked on your door and you opened it up, a black dress with a cherry pattern dotted all over the fabric and your neckline dropping low to show off slight bits of your pretty tits.

“Hey baby!” You giggled when you saw him, quickly taking the flowers. “Oh, they’re so pretty! Thank you, Stevie,” you leaned forward to kiss his lips as he walked inside, his hand settling in the small of your back as he followed you in. “What movie are we watching tonight?”

Steve hummed softly, kissing your temple. “Mmm, not sure. It’s Couples Night, so I’m assuming a romance.”

His words made you groan, sighing softly. “I hope it’s not one of those cringy ones.”

He smiled as he watched you take the flowers out of plastic, starting to take off the leaves and trim the stem. He knew you would do that, that’s how you always took care of your flowers.

“Would you rather that or erotica?” He laughed as you groaned, sighing.

“Honestly? Erotica,” you giggled as you cut the stems diagonally. “Better than some damn cringy ass romance.”

“You don’t like romance, baby?” Steve came behind you, holding your hips with a smile, tucking his face into the crook of your neck with a smile. “You don’t think I romance you?”

“I like the way you romance me,” you leaned back into him, smiling widely as you tilted your head to the side so he kissed against your skin. “Not the cringy romances on TV.”

He hummed softly as he let his hands trail down the smooth fabric of the dress, tilting his head slightly. “I love this dress. Is it new?”

You smiled, nodding. Steve always noticed the little things. “Mhm. Just got it.”

His hands started to go lower on your sides, his lips kissing firmly against your neck. The feeling made your head spin as you inhaled deeply, slowly putting the flower food at the bottom of the vase before filling it up with water.

“Think it might be my new favorite,” he whispers, biting his lip. “Definitely my new favorite, to be honest… looks so good on you.”

You hummed softly, nodding as you put the flowers into the vase. They fit perfectly. “Reminds me of cherry cola.”

He smiled. You loved cherry cola. “Then why don’t we go get your favorite from the drive in?”

You hummed, nodding. “Definitely. I got some allowance, too.”

Steve shook his head, kissing under your ear. “Uh uh… I invited you out, I’m paying.”

He was always like that, always a gentleman when he started taking you out on dates – and you at some points hated it. He really wanted to do as much as he could for you, and you hated it as much as you loved it, just because you really wanted to give back to him.

Still, he wanted to make sure that you knew that you could repay him in other ways, like wearing this pretty dress.

“Come on,” he whispered, smiling. “Let’s go. I don’t want us to be late.”

You hummed, nodding as you grabbed your purse and both of you walked out. He opened the door for you like a gentleman, helping you inside before going around and quickly getting in. Starting the car, he pulls you to the center seat making you giggle, wrapping one arm around your form and softly kissing your head before he drives off.

You let your hand settle on his thigh, tracing patterns against the denim before going up and down steadily. Steve knew how to hide the fact you were turning him on, for fucks sake, he had been hiding you ever since he met you.

So, as you drove towards the drive-in movie theater, the only thing on his mind was getting you that cherry cola. And, of course, some popcorn for himself.

Most of the time in this relationship, he wasn’t the one to think about himself, your pleasure and your happiness over his own. That was just the type of person that was in this relationship, his relationship with you.

So when you both finally got to the drive-in movie theater he painstakingly had to draw his attention from your fingers and to the teenage boy at the ticket stand. Steve had seen the guy around the school, and he looked even more tired here than he did at school.

Steve tipped him after buying the tickets, weaving through cars to get as close as possible to the screen as you started taking off your seatbelt. He turned off the car as you tugged at his jean jacket.

“Come with me to the snack shack?” Your voice was slightly whiny as you looked up at him with wide eyes, teasing him.

How could he say no to that?

So, he followed you to the snack shack, his hand continuously on the small of your back as you both went through the line where he watched you order a large and medium bucket of popcorn, with two cherry colas and a box of your favorite candy before you got to the cashier.

The girl told you the price and you held your hand out to Steve, your boyfriend already putting his wallet in your hand as he gathered everything that you had purchased, positioning his arms expertly as you paid. You kept his wallet with you as you both walked back to the car, commercials playing as you got in and he passed you the drinks so he wouldn’t spill before going around.

He passed you the popcorn as you stuck a straw into your bottled cherry cola, sipping on it as Steve pulled you closer, softly kissing your head as you popped a piece of popcorn into your mouth.

“Want some?”

Steve shook his head as you pouted slightly, looking back at the screen as you fixed your dress. His hand slowly pulled away from your shoulders, fixing his position to the side as he let his head duck down to kiss into your neck.

His kisses were hot and wet, open mouth against your neck as you inhaled shakily, tilting your head to the side as you set the bottle and box of popcorn in his cupholders. “Stevie-”

He hummed, shaking his head into your neck as his large hand started to bunch up your dress. “Fuck, baby… I told you this is my favorite dress… it’s doing something to me, I swear,” he whispered against your neck, his tongue trailing the expanse of your collarbone. “Can I baby? Please?”

You couldn’t focus on his words, tilting your head back as his hands slowly explored your body, one gently pushing apart your thighs to let his fingers trail up and down your slit while the other cupped your braless tits.

“Please baby? I want you so bad, I promise I’ll be gentle…”

Steve was never gentle, not unless you needed him to be. And right now, with the way he was sucking and digging his teeth into your skin, you didn’t need him to be gentle.

“You don’t have to,” you whisper as he smiles into your neck, finally pulling away from your neck with slightly puffy lips. “J-Just… don’t make it so obvious.”

“Come here baby,” he whispered as he shifted you to the driver's seat, pressing the small switch on the side of the seat to lean his seat back. You yelped, not expecting it as he slowly ducked under your dress, groaning as he trailed his nose into your inner thigh. “Fuck, you never wear panties under dresses like this… it drives me fucking insane.”

You gasped as he nudged his nose against your clit, a breathy exhale against your fluttering cunt making your thighs twitch.

“Spread your legs for me baby…” he puts one of your feet on the resting spot meant for a driver’s foot and the other on the slight lift of the floor for the middle seat. “Mmmm, your cunt looks so fucking pretty…”

You could only imagine how you looked, absolutely soaked and your lips puffy as he let his tongue trail circles around your clit. His fingers slowly massaged against your entrance, his blunt digits making you squirm slightly as you whined and started to roll your hips.

“St-Stevie-”

“I know, babe,” he murmured, nodding into your slit as he let his tongue flick against your entrance to taste your perfect essence. “Fuck, you taste so good… so fucking good.”

You pushed your hands under your dress, bunching it up at your waist and lifting it to see Steve licking languidly up and down your slit. A shiver ran down your spine as you watched him, his eyes never leaving yours as he sucked against your clit, a whine leaving your mouth as he slowly pushed his fingers into you. He always stretched you out with his fingers before he pushed his tongue into you and used it to make you cum countless times.

“Steve,” you groaned as you tilted your head back, your thighs shaking as you held the back of his head, pulling him closer. “Fuck, Stevie-”

“I know,” he whispered against your clit, languidly pumping his fingers in and out of you. Your walls clamped down on his digits as he flexed them inside of you, slowly pushing all of those special buttons that drove you insane. “I know, baby, I got you. I know what makes you feel good.”

Oh, you knew that he knew what made you feel good.

He let his teeth trail your clit just how you liked it, and he let you guide his face with slight tugs on your hair as you bucked your hips. He let you fuck yourself on his fingers, only languidly pumping until he heard your moans get louder, pushing his fingers deeper and rougher to hit that special spot inside of you that he knew would make you come undone.

His fingers inside of you felt so good, he knew what he was doing, he always did. You knew as soon as you came on his digits, he would use his tongue to fuck into you until his jaw ached.

So that was what was on your mind as you whined loudly, bucking your hips into his fingers as his lips continued their assault on your clit, sucking and nibbling against the sensitive bundle of nerves that began to puff up at his constant stimulation.

“Come on baby,” he whispered against your clit, groaning softly as he pushed his fingers in down to his knuckles. “Cum.”

You wailed as your hand pressed against the window, trying to steady yourself as your other hand kept his face in your cunt, bucking your hips into his mouth as you groaned loudly. He laughed against your cunt, groaning as you continued to use his fingers, your walls clamping down onto his digits making him shift his mouth down to your entrance.

He twisted his hands so that his wrist was up, curling his fingers inside of you and opening his mouth as though you were giong to cum like a faucet.

You basically did, hips bucking on their own as your hand pressed into the window, your other fingers tugging his hair back as he stayed close to your cunt, wet squelching filling the car as you wailed. He was always so good at this, so so good…

When you finally came down from your high, hips rolling lazily with soft whines as he pulled his fingers out of you and looked up.

“You don’t think we’re done, do you baby? The movies still got time left, and I’m not leaving this damn drive in until I fuck you.”

I do not ever give consent to my work being published on other platforms or being translated at any point, even if it is a request. If my work is on any other platform, it’s without my permission. Your media consumption is not my responsibility.

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bear-remn · 4 months ago

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I am ON MY KNEES, frothing at the mouth for Ayato's post! Keep up the great work!! Loved reading through em all! ♡

— ayato headcanons!

hiii, ty for waiting, ayato is one of my favorites boys in DL so i hope the love is serving, hoping you guys enjoy this post as much as i did writing it!!

tw: this post contains nsfw (+18)!!! if you don't like that content don't read it!

i had such a great time drawing this beautiful man, i really love him so i hope you guys love him as much as i do.

his looks and selfcare

so, ayato appearence... i love this man... cof cof one of my favorites cof cof... so i have a lot of thoughts on him.

to begin with i think ayato is a very, and i mean it, a very attractive man with a masculine presence and aura that makes me weak. for starting ayato is really cute and hot at the same time, and i am only talking about his face.

i think ayato face has a sharp jaw, and his smile is really a plus to his faction's, cute and both handsome at the same time, his eyes are'nt too slanted but has a very cat eye looking, has some long lashes and his gaze is very energetic, powerful, penetrating, dominant and cocky. so he has a killer eyes basically.

i like to think ayato has only one dimple, on his left cheek, it only appears when he smiles or laughs. and ayato has such a cute laugh.

but ayato face even if he has a very strong jaw, he still have a delicate and armonic face, he is a real beauty.

and bc ayato is a vampire he does'nt sweat, any, so does'nt really smell bad, but he does enjoy taking his showers, he prefers showers than baths, and it has to be a hot boiling water, he likes to relax while he cleans himself, ayato uses a scrub sponge to achieve an even greater sense of cleanliness, use a exfoliating soap and his shampoo is made of honey. he likes that smell a lot.

ayato also has a very atlethic body, he likes sports a lot! he began with the basic ones, such as basketball and soccer, but then became interested in swimming, ayato enjoys having this one in the comfort of his home.

i think ayato body is very... good, like bc he is good at sports, has some good muscles, his arms are cozy and his chest too, i love to think of ayato with big pectorals, and his abs??? omg... ayato also has a good and pominent v line, and as shu, ayato also has a (not so bushy) happy trail, i like to think that ayato is not againts his own body hair, he trims it sometimes but ayato just let his body be.

i think ayato knows how attractive he is, so he uses that to pick his clothes, like he is totally into compression shirts, dear lord. also he has a comfy but tight style, like to show his pectorals, abs and strong arms always so he puts tight fits, also likes jackets, i mean, those jackests racers use, or universal ones, or just showy and flashy jackets. very expensive too, dont like dupe's.

and i think that ayato used tio bite his nails, but since the death of his mother he stopped this, now, ayato paints them in black, not always tho, just when he is too bored and look for too long at his nails.

i think ayato also can grow a beard but he feels strange, so he shave it off, and after it he puts sunscreen only where he shaves. one time he did'nt and some acne pop out so he got scared since.

random stuff

so, ayato is really my favorite with these ones.

i think ayato is one of the most clingy and romantic one, probably bc he can't keep his hands, eyes and mouth off you but thats for later.

ayato enjoys, like really, loves romantic movies, he has seen every each one of them, really likes when the couple dont get together at the end, he thinks that is real love but he would never let his lover go.

i think ayato has win like medals of his favorites sports, except for soccer, he is'nt the runner type. and has a little shelf of trophies.

and even if ayato sleep in classes, i think he knows everyting bc how many years has he been in there? like a vampire for ever? he definetly don't need school, and in his childhood he probably studied obligated and unhappy (ofc), so when ayato learning things "obligated" in school he hates to put attention to it. i also think ayato has cheated in some exams or tests, like, he sits at the back and then copy his classmates, gets pissed if someone dont give him the answer.

and speaking about school, ayato is really popular, more than you think, i like to think that ayato is know as the treasure of his grade, i mean, he is maybe the best at gym class and don't get bad grades, he is attractive and stuff. like, you cant walk past ayato and dont look back bc he man is gorgeous.

i also think that ayato deep down, do enjoys spending time with laito and kanato, like, playing for dumb things and joking while eating, i think he do loves them, but he don't give them any kind of affection or let them have his things. oh, and ayato is very posessive, one time kanato used his soap and ayato got really mad that almost hit kanato for it. ayato dont share either food or his stuff, nothing.

i think ayato likes to go to these typical japanese festivals (idontknowthenamessorry) only for the food, and for his pretty privileges never pays, he always makes the people selling stuff give him free things.

i think ayato used to be a really insecure and anxious kid, he bited his nails and his fingers, often ended on sucking his own blood for it. and when he entered his teen ages, i think ayato pulled his hair, you know, like those people that can't help but pull it and dont notice, he had a bald spot once but no one notice.

i think ayato is the guy that when gets mad, randomly yell "bitch!" with no fucking reason, like if he is'nt finding one of his socks and gets upset, he would just yell at the air, or when someone is being terrible annoying he just yell "shut up you bitch!" its his favorite curse word. and also, when he is hearing gossip he would just comment "bitch?" like a reaction. its part of him.

oh, and a little detail, i think ayato is a little scared of religions, but not like physically, more like, he does'nt get it so always get chills from seeing religious things or hearing something related. all bc of horror religious movies, he just thinks those kind of people can be a little crazy.

nsfw

oh, i have been waiting for this, and i know you guys too so.

ayatos dick? oh dear lord.

i think ayato has a solid and proud 18 cm when is hard, like, his dick is thick and his balls also are really heavy, the tip is a little more pink and his pubic hair is there but really short and well kept. and it does'nt look up, its a little down for how heavy his dick is, and ayato always has some of liquid coming out. so his tip is glowy.

i think ayato is so dominant, he is not a bottom, but he do likes when you fignt back to be the dominant one, or talk back to him, or defy him. he really finds it hot. too submissive partner for him can be a little boring.

i think ayato loves to get reaction out of you, like he will literally try to make you nervous in all chances he gets, and his way of doing it, he is really such an ass. like if you two are studying together and he does'nt get something, he totally does but, will ask you to explain, and will play dumb until he randomly just say "i might understand if you sit on my lap... or take off you skirt, maybe like that my mind can focus on you haha" or when ayato take you blood and he is not desesperate and just having a little he will say "enjoying i see, wanting some more? i see what kind of face you are doing, dont be shy now" and his smile with his beautiful dimple? he is really a killer.

i think ayato, ofc when ayato is in love with you or just want you for himself, he is such a little kid, always holding your hand while walking or while he drives and you are by his side he is the kind of guy to hold onto you leg and squeeze it. or when he wakes up he always kiss you sleepy, or when you two say goodbye he will hug you tight and kiss you tenderly. and his kisses really are everything.

i like to think that ayato is a really good kisser, like, he knows how to go from a cute and tender kiss to a hungry and wet one, he just knows, and loves kisses too. like if you two are in a little argument and you face got a little blushed by amger he will just kiss you to shut you up and also bc he loves when you get blushed, he thinks you look so good with red cheeks "muah...what!? don't hit me! i could'nt resist you!"

oh, and if you two are together he totally is the kind of man that when passing behind you will slap you butt, not hard, he just hit it. or when you get up he also slap it, or when you bend over, or when you look pretty, he just like to touch you butt. i imagine ayato having like a normal and totally out of the clue question "hey love, do you know where my charger is?" and when you respond he kisses you "i'll go check" and slap your ass before leaving.

but oh, he doesnt only like your butt, he is obssesed with you body, i think ayato is the type of man that when you two are watching movies is touching you, like you leg, he touch it not sexually ofc, or you feet, or you hair, or any part that is comfortable for him to touch. oh and it is canon that ayato likes when you touch his hair so he also ask for that a lot when you two are just hanging out.

i think ayato can get worked up real fast, like he is so obssesed with you and so in love, in his own way, that a little peck on the lips will do to him. and after that he will try and make you get in the mood. i think ayato is not pushy about it, i mean, he tell you but he likes to work the mood first. i think ayato will start kissing you, ofc, while his hands hold your waist making you come closer, and if you two are standing up he will walk you to some surface, like a bed, a couch, a table even, he does'nt care. but not the floor tho.

and before dropping you in the bed he will squeeze your ass and slap it to then get you on bed. and he can't stand you body being so hot, bc they as vampires, dont get any kind of body heat. so he will take his shirt off before join you in bed "like what you see? be grateful for how good i treat you, ok? hehe" and his dimple really makes you weak.

me too girl, me too.

i think ayato enjoys rubbing his body against yours, like he pushes his erection against your leg as he kisses you, of course bothering your lip with his fangs, while his hands sneak under your t-shirt to pull out your bra, and his cold hands really know what they're doing, touching your skin possessively. and his breaths? when he is horny he can be vocal, but he is just so masculine.

you know when someone has such a masculine presence? and they show it with every action? but they are so pretty and handsome? thats ayato right there.

and ayato definetly will mess up with you, like he will tease your nipples through your clothes, while looking at the expressions you make "if you keep looking at me like that... i wont be able to hold myself from devour you completly" and his dick just trobs in his pants.

and he really holds back from tearing your clothes apart, like, i think ayato might take yout clothes off and just contemplate you, he loves your body. and he is going straight into your pussy.

I imagine him kneeling on the bed, he takes your legs and raises your hips to have you at the height of his mouth, he loves to eat your pussy, depending on the mood of course, it will be fast or slow, and if he is slow, he concentrates more than anything on your clit, sucking carefully and caressing it with a flat tongue "damn honey... youre so fucking wet, so good ohmm..." and he moans while eating it. he can get so pussy drunk sometimes.

and yes, he does call you honey sometimes.

and when you suck ayato's dick, he likes to be seated in the bed and you on all fours, so he can see your ass, loves to see your back as well, good arched and if you have dimples on your lower back he goes crazy, and if you suck for too long his tip his legs might shiver so ayato will take his dick off your mouth by grabbing you by your hair "fuck... don't do that honey, keep sucking me good, ok? be good for me... yes ah... only for me..."

i think for the poses that ayato likes, he probably likes a lot of them, like i think his favorites can be with your legs on his shoulders, or from behind.... but do love to have you legs on his shoulders. i imagine ayato putting it in slowly while watching you face, and his eyes are so fucking hot, he is the kind of man that will tell you with his eyes how much he desires you.

and about his pace, i do think ayato likes to start slow and deep and eventually become more rough or fast. so when he is slow he makes sure to bump a little so your tits bounce a little, and he loves to see your tits bounce, definetly will bite your ankles but not drink too much so you can keep up.

and when ayato begins to be more rough, he will slap your ass hard as he thrust you so deep, you can feel how he can touch every part of you. eventually the pose will become a mating press. his dick is just so hard and hot for you and his balls so heavy as they hit your ass.

"fuck.... ooh yes... you like that huh? you take my dick so... fucking good..."

and as ayato's balls slap your ass, he also will slap you on the cheek, not too hard tho, so then he can grab your neck and see you straight into your eyes as he keep fucking you. the room is full of wet noises and your moans, and his heavy breaths.

and ayato if feeling more horny than usual, lol, he will chain you to the bed, or put a collar with a chain to make you move. like i think ayato will be deep in you and you're too lost in it so he pulls the chain from the collar on your neck and smiles when you moan "don't take your eyes off me honey... watch me fuck you" and his abs look absolutely delicious when he thrust into you.

and if you are about to come, ayato will take it out and watch how you squirm and cry out for not cumming, frustrated bc you cant do nothing more than complain, with your hand chains keeping you in place "what? i wanted some fresh aire haha... youre melting me with that pussy of yours" and then put his heavy dick bewteen your folds, slaping a little just to hear how wet you are "hear that? your body is so honest with me... you're hole body is mine" and his cocky smile makes his dimple come out, ofc your pussy reacted to that fucking beautiful smile, so he laughs, he can be a little mean.

i think ayato do know how to make you squirt sometimes, like edging you a little, then fucking you dumb until your legs tremble in his sides, and while you cum ayato will take his dick out and slap it in your folds, and then pushing it in just where you like it over and over, and he loves to make you squirt on his dick, he thinks is so hot.

"oh fuck!... yeah... make that pussy cry... fuck yeah" and then slap your face to kiss you hungry as he keep fucking you.

oh and when ayato cums? he gets sloppy.

i think ayato can't control fully his body when he is about to cum, but one thing he always does, is taking it out and crawl on top of you while masturbating himself so he can cum in your face, and having ayato on top of you, with his dick tip on your lips, his face all messed up, his chest going up and down as he feels it coming, dear lord "open wide... be good for me honey... im close... oh fuck!" and he cums a lot, likes to see you swallow it "you did good, be grateful for making you feel good, yes?"

the aftercare is really cute with ayato, i think ayato will be exhausted after cuming maybe three times? or maybe two, so he will ask you to cuddle him, and he is the small spoon. likes to feel you touching his hair. makes him feel safe. after having a break, he will definetly get in the mood again, or if he bites you, ayato can get sleepy while doing it, but he keeps the need to fuck you more, maybe more calm and not so... him "cmon... wanna be inside you some more... be grateful, i'll make you cum just like before, what about doing it on my mouth huh? it sounds good is innit? haha"

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