#wouldn't dare write on your blog

[joelscruff]

truth or dare (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

notification blog | kofi | in honor of my bestie han @swiftispunk who recently celebrated her birthday (and in honor of spooky season starting 🎃) i thought i'd step outside the boundaries of what i usually write and try something new. i'd also like to give a huge shoutout to @toxicanonymity whose entire masterlist greatly influenced my desire to try something like this. please heed the warnings!!! and as i said this is my first time writing anything like this so pls be kind 🫠

summary: a harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: dubcon (reader is given a choice to leave, but not immediately), dark!joel, age gap (reader is college age, joel is in his fifties), unprotected p in v sex, use of restraints, ropes, spanking, degradation, sir kink, dirty talk (use of 'little girl' as a pet name), face fucking, rough sex, creampie, brief anal play, humiliation, inappropriate use of a household item (he puts a flashlight up her cooch), marking (with a sharpie), size kink (joel is much bigger than reader and can lift her), pls lemme know if i forgot anything word count: 8.3k

Your palms are sweaty, fingers sticking to your skin as you stand at the edge of the property with goosebumps already blooming along your flesh. The air is chilly, that end of summer evening air flooding your nostrils as a car drives past through streams of leftover rainwater, headlights blurring your vision for a moment. It passes quickly and you're alone again, standing on the street corner with a mixture of anticipation and dread filling your trembling body.

Everything had been fine about twenty minutes ago. A typical party with your hometown friends, one last hurrah before everyone splits off for the third year in a row to go back to their respective colleges, back to long lectures and underwhelming frat boys. It had gone the same way it always does when you get together - shots, secrets, schemes. No end of summer party could ever be complete without a game of truth or dare, not for your crowd anyway.

It had started simple. "Which one of us had the best glow-up this year?" "I dare you to text the last guy you slept with." "What's the kinkiest thing you've done with somebody?" "I dare you to show us the last nude someone sent you." Typical borderline adolescent challenges, things you all still followed through with despite being too old for the game - it's the principle of it, to indulge and pretend, if only for a little while, that life is as simple as it once was.

"Who's the last person you had a sex dream about?"

You'd twisted your hands awkwardly in your lap, felt heat rush to the apples of your cheeks. Usually a question like this wouldn't make you hesitate, but the subject of the answer had been a slightly embarrassing one. As soon as the name Joel Miller had fallen from your lips, you'd been met with screams and squeals and excited chatter from every direction.

"He's so fucking creepy though," one of your friends had said with wide eyes, palm over her mouth, "He gives off serial killer vibes."

"Oh please, he's not that bad," another had chimed in, "He's just a loner, kinda mysterious. I see the vision."

"Are we forgetting the part where he's old as hell? Dude must be in his fifties, at least."

"But that means experience."

"It could also mean limp dick."

"You guys are disgusting," you'd moaned, leaning back on your hands, "It was one dream, let's move on."

And they had. Briefly. Until it was once again your turn and they'd all rounded on you with cheshire cat grins and glinting stares. You should have known what was coming when you chose Dare.

"I dare you to go over to his house."

You'd resisted, of course. The dare itself didn't even make much sense; what were you meant to do? Go over and ding-dong-ditch his front door like a twelve year old boy? But it had only snowballed from there, all five girls tossing in their own thoughts and ideas, talking and giggling over each other. "She should ask him on a date." "She should just flirt a little bit, see how he reacts." "She could see how far she can get with him, maybe?" "Oh shit, that's good."

You could have always said no - there was no way any of them could force you to do it, even if it would have ended the party abruptly with grumbled complaints and a slammed door. But the more they talked the more you found yourself listening, letting the concept sink in, the images of the dream you'd had the other night flooding to the front of your mind. Mysterious and elusive Joel Miller, big hands covered in the motor oil he uses to tinker with his truck, trailing his messy fingers between the swells of your breasts...

They'd managed to convince you just by the reminder alone, though also due to the fact that they'd each tossed in a twenty dollar bill and stated that simply getting a kiss on the cheek would warrant a win. The prospect was intriguing; it would be a testament to your own desirability, your game. How far can you get with your quiet neighbor who probably hasn't touched a woman in years? Who'll probably fold the second he realizes someone as young and beautiful as you is interested in him?

"I'll do it," you'd said with a smirk, rising from the hardwood, "How hard can it be?"

Harder than you thought, apparently. Because now you stand a few feet from Joel Miller's house, loitering soundlessly at the edge of his front lawn, hesitating. The sun has gone down, turning the hedges along the side of his property into frighteningly tall shadows, dark and menacing. A light breeze flows past and you wrap yourself tighter in your well-worn maroon cardigan, shivering, staring at your boots and wondering if you can really bring yourself to do this.

It'll be so humiliating if he rejects your advances. On the other hand, will it somehow be less-so if he returns your flirtatiousness and you then have to reject him once you've gotten what you came for? How will that make you look? You're not even really sure why you care - probably because the man has done nothing to you whatsoever, nothing that would warrant such a foolish prank as this being played on him. It makes you feel bad, in a way. As much as you and your friends make fun of him, he really is just a man who keeps to himself - perhaps this is going too far.

You notice light flickering nearby, a reflection of fluorescents in the puddles of his driveway. You figured he'd be in his garage - it's where he spends most of his time, bent over the exposed hood of the truck he's seemingly been working on ever since he moved in at the beginning of the summer. You've never seen him drive it, never even seen him leave the property, but you've passed by the house on more than one occasion. You've seen the way he rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, forearms splattered black and grey, expression focused on the task at hand while sweat drips from his greying temples.

Having a sex dream about him really shouldn't have been that shocking, now that you think about it. The man is a mystery, sure, but he isn't ugly by any means.

You swallow down your qualms, picturing the faces of your friends more than likely smooshed against the living room window a few houses back, watching. As soon as you turn the corner, you'll disappear from view, obstructed by the hedges and the sudden darkness of night. You take one more deep breath, one last burst of chilly evening air into your lungs, and accept your fate.

--

He doesn't notice you walking up his driveway, taking slow and meager steps as you assess the open garage, the truck with its hood popped as usual, the flickering of the florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. He doesn't notice you, but you notice him. You spot a pair of steel toed boots and long denim clad legs sticking out from underneath the truck, hear the clink and clang of metal against metal while he tinkers with something down there, unseen. As you reach the garage it becomes apparent that you still have one last chance to end this before it begins, turn around and take the loss.

But you don't.

"Excuse me," you offer in a weak voice, teetering nervously at the edge of the garage door, neither inside nor out - neutral ground.

The clinking stops, replaced by the steady pounding of your heart in your chest, the heaviness of your breathing. You try to loosen your hands from their fisted forms and unclench your fingers, focusing on the stretch of flesh and bone while the legs beneath the car slowly begin to inch forward. He's not laying on any type of support, one of those wheeled contraptions you've seen other people use - no, he's simply got his back to the ground, a back and body that's slowly coming into view.

His black and green flannel rides up where he's been laying on it, as well as the grey t-shirt he wears beneath; as he slides out from under the car you spot a bare sliver of skin just above his waistband, a patch of hair that trails down into his jeans. A lump forms in your throat. When he finally peeks his head out, you swallow around it and try to remember to breathe.

Greying hair slicked back behind his ears, cheekbones smeared slightly with something black, scruff lining a strong yet soft jawline, a plump bottom lip, and those eyes... dark brown, almost black. It's the face that's practically been haunting you all summer, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.

His brow furrows as soon as he sees you, "Can I help you?"

It's not the first time you've heard him talk, but it's certainly the first time he's ever spoken directly to you. His accent is stronger than you remember, words slipping smoothly past his lips like butter as he eyes you from the floor of his garage, knees up, hands still hidden in the darkness. A few seconds pass before you realize he's asked you a question.

"Oh, um-" You haven't thought this through very far, that's for sure. What the fuck do you even say? You take a breath and remind yourself that you're good at this, have seduced your fair share of frat boys in the past two years with minimal effort and have never heard the word no. Sure, Joel Miller isn't a frat boy - far from it - but underneath his cold exterior he's still very much a man, and very much capable of falling under the spell of a beautiful woman. You hope, anyway.

"I was just taking a walk," you lie, "Saw your light on, thought I'd come say hi."

He stares at you blankly, like he's unsure exactly how he's supposed to respond - or perhaps he's already seeing through your façade. You take a step into his garage, poised at the edge as you lean casually against the opening.

"Honestly, um-" you push some hair behind your ear and attempt to look shy, though it's not a huge jump from how you're actually feeling, "I've been meaning to talk to you, before I go back to college."

At your words he raises an eyebrow and slowly brings his hands downwards, palms pressing flat against the dark concrete. You watch as he eases himself up and out from under the truck, and god he's tall - tall and broad and huge compared to you, a fact that sends a little flutter into your belly. He takes a step toward the work bench against the wall, eyes still on you as he reaches down and picks up a rag to wipe his hands, big and wide and streaked with oil. You remember your dream and feel a twinge in your underwear.

"Talk to me about what?" he asks, massaging the rag against his fingers.

You shrug as nonchalantly as you can, taking another step inside his garage, closer to where he stands at the work bench. You cross your legs in an attempt to show them off, stretching your ankle toward a spare tire on the floor and accentuating the sheerness of your black tights, the little run that splits the material at the inside of your knee, the hint of bare skin that peeks out beneath.

"Nothing in particular," you say, keeping your voice soft and steady but doing your best to keep that shy girlishness present, "Just... wanted to." You peer up at him from under your lashes and bite your lip, then reach out your hand for him to take. You say your name.

He assesses your hand but doesn't take it, brow still furrowed. "Joel," he replies, "And I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment. Don't really have time to talk." His voice is cold and gruff, absolutely no sign of interest or attraction - dammit.

"What're you doing?" you ask, tilting your head.

He continues to stare at you blankly, "What does it look like I'm doin'?"

Okaaaay, then.

You shrug again and take another step, turning to look at the wall next to you. Tools line the shelves, wrenches and screwdrivers and the like dangling rather precariously here and there, smeared in motor oil and dust. It's a mess but you'd be willing to bet that it's organized chaos, that he likes it this way.

"What's this?" you ask, pointing to a particularly large object, something that looks like a mixture between a pair of scissors and a wrench.

"Bolt cutters," he supplies you monotonously.

"Ohh," you say with a nod, leaning a bit into the confused pretty girl stereotype and hoping maybe he's a sucker for it, "And what's that?" You point toward a small cylindrical object, black and tactical, only a few inches long.

"You never seen a flashlight before?"

Oh. Right. "Woops," you giggle, "Sorry."

You turn your face to look at him sheepishly and he's still watching you, big arms now crossed against his broad chest - impatient. Well, this is clearly not working either. He's frowning, eyes so focused on your face that you feel almost naked beneath it, like he's staring into your soul. You clear your throat awkwardly and tug your bottom lip between your teeth, breaking your own gaze away from him and trying to find something else to comment on.

"So you've been working on your truck," you state, gesturing toward the vehicle as if only just noticing it was even there, "What's - uh - what's wrong with it?"

He's clearly not buying into whatever the fuck you're even trying to sell. He remains silent, eyes still on you, and suddenly it's like you've never even interacted with a man before - and to be honest, maybe you haven't. Frat boys are certainly not men by any means, and nowhere near in the same league as Joel Miller by a long shot, probably almost triple their age with a dark and mysterious aura that feels almost suffocating. He just stares at you, slightly unnerving, but also seductive in its own way, almost like he's challenging you.

"What do you want?" he asks blankly.

"I-I told you," your voice is already faltering, losing its flirtatious edge the more you realize how dumb of an idea this was, "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, I got that," he says stiffly, "Why?"

You've already exhausted the avenues you thought might work, which means you've got one last chance before he sends you packing. With bated breath you take the final few steps toward him and - averting your gaze - you reach your hand out to touch his forearm with your fingertips. It's feather light, but you're suddenly very aware of the goosebumps that rise on his freckled flesh, the way the thick hair on his arms seems to stand on end the second your skin touches his. Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

"I think you're handsome," you murmur softly, feeling warmth rush to your cheeks when you realize that it's not a lie. And it really isn't. As your gaze gradually tilts up you catch a glimpse of the hair on his chest, peeking out from under his grey t-shirt. You spot his pecs beneath the fabric of his flannel, see the throbbing veins in his neck, the coarseness of his scruff, the sharp curve of his nose, and those fucking eyes - looking at you with a darkness, a lust, that wasn't there before.

He's not just handsome; he's fucking gorgeous.

"What're you doin'?" he asks you, that gruffness still present but being taken over by something else, something darker.

"Nothing," you breathe, still trailing your fingers along his forearm until they reach its apex and dip into the soft part behind his elbow, damp with sweat. You swallow, throat going dry as you stroke his skin with your thumb.

"Doesn't feel like nothin'," his voice is quieter, matching yours, and he tilts his head slightly as he continues to stare into your eyes, "Why're you really here, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. The word sends a burst of warmth to your chest, a smile to your lips. You unlock your eyes from his bashfully, watching your own movements as you trail your fingers back down toward his hand and wrap them around one of his fingers, so thick compared to your own. You squeeze gently, biting your lip again as you peer back up at him. Here it is. Moment of truth. You tilt your head up slightly, eyelashes fluttering as you lean forward to connect your lips with his.

Except, they don't connect.

Instead he pulls his hands away from you, brings them upwards and wraps them around your upper arms, squeezing tightly. Your eyes widen, confusion flooding your features.

"Turn around and bend over."

"W-what?" Shock doesn't even begin to describe the ice cold feeling that now makes its way through your body, edged with something else - something you can't explain.

"Turn around," he repeats, his big hands squeezing your arms even tighter - relentless, firm - as he peers down at you with a dark hunger in his eyes, glinting black beneath the fluorescents, "And bend over."

He does not give you another chance to obey - you're too frozen in surprise and confusion to do anything yourself. Instead, he uses the force of his weight on your arms to spin you on the spot, shoving you against the work bench. You feel one of his hands move from your arm to your back, pushing hard until you fold, warm cheek coming to rest against the cold wood.

"Wh-what are you doing?" your voice is meager, weak, and you feel him wrap one of his hands around both your wrists like it's nothing, pinning them against your back like they're simply twigs in his wide palm.

"What you're clearly fuckin' beggin' for," he replies gruffly, and you feel his other hand at your skirt, feel the brush of his fingertips at the hem as he reaches upward to grip the band of your tights. Your eyes widen and instinctively you pull back, pull away - he just pushes you back down.

"I'm not-" you begin, shock quickly being replaced with fear when you realize how easily overpowered you are, how fluidly he's able to tug down your tights and expose your ass to him, clad in only a black thong already lost between your cheeks.

"Oh, you're not, huh?" his voice is cold and stoic, angry, "You think you can play games with me, little girl?" His hand comes to rest against the swell of your behind and you suddenly feel his breath above you, hot in your ear, "Tell me why you're really here."

You try to lift your head up to look at him better but he just shoves you back down again. Panic floods your body, mixed with the unmistakable burn of arousal. You feel yourself twitch in your underwear, feel a sudden gush of warmth spill inside the fabric as he begins to trail his finger up and down the thin line of black cotton.

"I-I'm..." You're at a complete loss for words, unable to articulate anything, unsure of what exactly is happening - or about to happen. Two minutes ago you'd been sure he was about to tell you to leave, practically kick you out of the garage himself, and now you're not sure leaving is even a possibility.

He pulls his hand back and you cry out when it comes down to slap against one of your cheeks, a sharp sting and burn you hadn't been anticipating.

"Tell me why you're here," he repeats - authoritarian, firm.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out except a frightened squeak, something which clearly eggs him on even more. He spanks you again, harder this time, palm flat and wide against your pebbled flesh. The sound that slips past your lips is somehow akin to a moan of some sort, guttural and deep.

"I'll just make it harder and harder, sweetheart," he says then, and the pet name no longer contains the warmth it did mere moments ago; instead it's cold and detached, mocking. You're still reeling when his hand comes down to slap against you again, even harder this time, and your hands ball into fists behind your back as you let out another low moan. More slick gushes into your panties and it's impossible to deny that somehow, despite the fear twinging in your heart, you're so fucking turned on.

"M-my friends," you gasp out, and you feel him squeeze your abused ass cheek which you're sure is already dark with his handprint, "They- they dared me to see how far I c-could get with you."

He lets your words sink in for a moment, squeezing again - tighter, so tight that it hurts. You whimper against the wooden top of the work bench, legs shaking.

"So you came here to get fucked," he finally states.

"N-no, I swear, I-"

"Wasn't a question," he interrupts, and you feel his other hand tighten around your wrists, "You came here to get fucked so you're gonna get fucked, end of story."

"But I-"

Without any warning he suddenly pushes himself up against you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans pressing deliciously up against your exposed skin. You gasp, eyes going wide when you feel the long, thick shape of his dick between your cheeks, huge and hard. He holds it there, his free hand coming down to lay flat beside your head against the work bench.

"You feel that?" he asks, voice suddenly quieter but still full of that ice cold malice, "You feel that cock?"

Fuck. "Y-yes," you breathe, "I feel it."

"You have five seconds before i close this door and stuff you full, understand?" Suddenly all you can hear is the heavy sound of his breathing, the panting of your own, the thud of your heart where it presses painfully against the wood. He's giving you an out.

"I- I-" you swallow, brows furrowing when you feel his hand slacken around your wrists. You could pull away now, yank yourself out of his grasp and sprint down his driveway, return to your friends. Forget this ever even happened.

It's your last chance.

"Five," he begins, breath warm against your face.

Run. Just run.

"Four."

But why?

"Three."

Why don't you want to run?

"Two."

Why do you want to stay?

"One."

He pulls his hand up from the work bench and hits a button on the wall, eliciting a loud mechanical noise to your left as the garage door starts to close. You watch with wide eyes as your chance to leave slowly vanishes inch by inch until it's gone completely, and yet no part of you itches to run, to escape. There's nothing to escape from, you realize. You want to be here. You want him to fuck you.

As the reality of your situation starts to settle, his grip around your wrists tightens once again. You sense him reaching up somewhere above you, and you suddenly feel the harsh texture of what feels like thickly braided rope wrapping around your wrists. The realization that he's restraining you sends another pool of release into your panties, another faint squeak past your lips.

"You gonna stay still for me?" he asks, voice dark and clearer now in the silence of his garage, no sounds of rain or cars to disrupt you, "Huh? You gonna be a good girl?"

"Yes," you breathe, nodding against the wood.

"Say it."

"I'm gonna stay still," you promise, "I'm gonna be a good girl."

He finishes knotting the rope around your wrists, tight and uncomfortable against your skin. He pushes his groin up against your ass again, brings his now free hands downward to reach through your cardigan and squeeze your breasts. Your nipples are hard beneath the soft cotton of your shirt, no bra between the layer of material and your bare skin; he tweaks them in his fingers and you shudder.

"These are mine," he whispers in your ear, scruff nuzzling against the side of your face, "These tits, this ass," he drops his hands from your breasts to squeeze your cheeks again, "and this pussy." His hand drops to the puffy shape of your lips beneath your thong and you whimper. "Understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

You're not sure what he's asking for, what he wants you to say. You take a guess. "Yes, sir," you whisper, and you feel him smile against your ear. Bingo.

He doesn't bother to pull your tights down the rest of the way; instead, he rips them, pulling them apart in his big hands and reaching inside to curl his index finger around the thin strip of your thong. He pulls it - hard - and it rips from you with a rough tearing sound and a painful sting, eliciting a loud gasp from you which he rewards with another spank.

You feel his finger slip between your lips for a moment, gathering some of your release before he pulls it away. "Juicy fuckin' pussy," he mutters, and you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone, vulgar in the quiet room. You have no time to ask about protection, no time to even really process how quickly this is already happening, before you feel the warm tip of his cock pushing against your twitching hole. You gasp again, hands furling under the ropes.

"Shh," he quiets you, stilling for a second, "Don't squirm."

"Sorry," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "I'm sorry."

"What're you sorry for?" he murmurs, feeding his cock to you in small increments, reveling in the noises falling past your lips. It's so fucking big, bigger than you'd anticipated - it feels like he's spearing you, splitting you in half, especially without much preparation. It stretches and burns, but the warmth of it, the way it pulses as it invades your body, just makes you gush even more. "Hm?" he continues, "What're you sorry for? You sorry for squirmin' or sorry you pissed me off?"

Your eyes roll back as he bottoms out, his pubic hair pressing coarsely against your pussy lips, heavy balls firm to your ass. You try to speak but it's hard to get the words out when you're so full, the wide tip of him pushing into your cervix.

"You a virgin?" he asks you then, voice changing for a moment, like for the briefest of seconds he's wondering whether he should have gone slower.

You shake your head quickly, "N-no," you manage to gasp out.

"Feel like a fuckin' virgin," he grunts, pulling out and then immediately slamming back inside. Your head bumps against the work bench, a groan falling from your mouth as he makes a home inside you. "Christ," he mutters, "Tight little thing. You feel me in your stomach, baby?"

You're not sure he wants you to answer, but it becomes clear when his hand slaps down on your ass cheek again and you cry out.

"Yes," you moan, then quickly amend, "Yes, sir."

"S'what happens when you come in here, actin' like a little slut," he suddenly reaches for your cardigan and yanks it off - it catches on your restrained hands and he simply rips it and tosses it to the floor, "But then again, you're not actin', are you? Huh? What's a slut like you doin' wearin' all these fuckin' layers?"

"I'm s-sorry," you repeat, already mourning the loss of your favorite sweater, now ripped to shreds at your feet.

"Sorry's not good enough, little girl," he breathes, thrusting into you again so hard that you yelp, cheek still pressed into the splintered wood of the work bench, "That's it, fuckin' take it."

He fucks you without any reservations, any inhibitions. Your legs shake and you can hear the slap of his hairy thighs against yours as he pounds into you relentlessly. You have no choice but to take it, the stretch of his huge cock becoming less painful the more he gives it to you over and over, the room full of the wet squelch of your pussy gripping him. He grabs your hips, fingertips digging into your bare flesh as he takes and takes; you wish you could see his face, wish you could see how he looks when he's fucking you, getting his pleasure. The thought makes you whine, tears streaming down your face as your body moves back and forth against the work bench.

It feels fucking amazing. You've never had a cock as big as his before, never been fucked so deep and so hard, like he doesn't care if he breaks you, makes you cry. He hasn't touched your clit and yet you already feel you could come from just this, just the relentless push and pull of his dick inside you. Unfortunately, just as soon as you feel your orgasm starting to build, he pulls out. Your brow furrows.

"Stand up," he orders, "and turn around."

You obey, relief overtaking you as soon as you're no longer bent at such an awkward angle. The moment you turn to face him you barely get a look at his face before he's reaching down and tearing your shirt in half - easily, like it's nothing. You don't even have time to wonder how the hell you're gonna get home with all your clothes ripped to shreds when his mouth is suddenly wrapped around your left nipple, and you whine at the sensation. You peer down at him, biting your lip and watching his wet lips suckle around the hard bud, beard scratching deliciously against your skin. Your hand aches to cup the back of his head but it's still pinned behind your back, tied tight beneath the rope.

"Fuck," you whimper, and his dark gaze flashes up to meet yours as he sucks, the hint of a smirk on his lips when he pulls away.

"Feels good, does it?" he asks, and seeing the words come out of his mouth is somehow more sinful than when you could only hear them, "You like bein' used?"

You nod almost immediately despite never having experienced anything like this in your life - though admittedly you've undeniably wanted to experience this, ached to have somebody take control, tell you what to do, make you do things. It's like you've somehow known subconsciously all summer that Joel Miller could be that person for you, despite never having said two words to him. It was just a feeling, an instinct, and that dream...

"Yeah?" he continues, and suddenly his hand comes up to cup your pussy, thumb finally pressing against your clit. You cry out, tears still trickling down your cheeks. "Said you were in college, right? You take any college dick up here? Be honest now."

You nod again, "Y-yes."

"How many?"

"I... I don't know," you breathe. It's the truth, and you can tell as soon as the words leave your mouth that it does something to him. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, two fingers slipping up inside of you.

"'Course you don't know," he murmurs, pushing them as deep inside as he can, making you whimper, "You wouldn't know, would you?"

Your thighs tighten together - squeezing his hand - and he just smirks again, curving his fingers and making you moan. Your lower back digs into the work bench as he stands, pushes you up against it and peers down into your eyes again with a hunger that's only getting worse. You assess his expression, the pout of his lips as he fucks you with his fingers, the focused lines creased into his forehead. So fucking handsome.

"You're not a good girl," he breathes, nose brushing yours, "Knew it from the day I saw you. You're just made for takin' cock. Am I right?"

"Yes," you whisper, nodding shakily and bumping your lips up toward his - he pulls away again and you can't help but feel disappointed, aching to feel his lips against yours.

"Tonight you're made to take my cock, that clear?" he continues, and you watch as his other hand travels downward to wrap around it - just out of your periphery. He's too close to you, crowded so much in your space that you know he won't like it if you break eye contact. You can tell by his arm movements that he's pumping himself at the same speed he's fucking you with his fingers, inhaling deeply, "I'm gonna ruin you, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not."

"Y-yes sir," you whisper, voice squeaking when he speeds up his fingers and pumps them in and out with fervor, thumb rubbing furiously against your clit. Yet again he brings you almost to the edge and then removes his hand completely, stepping back with a low chuckle when you whimper pathetically.

Your disappointment only lasts a moment because now you can see him, see the girthy length of him that's already been inside of you hanging out of his zipper, glistening with your slick. He's huge, tip dark and intrusive, beads of his own arousal dripping from the slit; your mouth waters. His eyes cast down to where you're looking and he smiles, dark and mocking.

"Never gonna see another dick like this, darlin'," he breathes, "So you better start showin' your appreciation." His eyes glint. "Kneel."

You're practically already on your way to kneeling before he says it, in awe of the sheer girth and shape of him. The second your bare knees hit the cold floor he's crowding you again, hand coming around to hold the back of your head.

"Open wide, baby," he murmurs.

Your jaw drops and he plunges inside your mouth quickly and seamlessly, making you gasp around his length as your eyes widen. You can't breathe, looking up at him with more tears already fogging your vision as he immediately slips into the depths of your throat with no hesitation. You gag, eyes bulging as you attempt to swallow around the intrusion, find your breath, but it's impossible.

"Yeah," he breathes, both of his hands cradling your face and holding you still as he lets his cock sit unmoving in your throat, "Yeah, that's it. That's what you're made for."

He only holds it there for a few seconds but by the time he pulls it out you're gasping for air, coughing and spluttering as tears stream relentlessly down your cheeks. He keeps cradling your face, tuts to himself as you try to get your breath back. The head of his cock bumps softly against your bottom lip.

"Not off to a great start, are we?" he murmurs, "Let's try again."

He pushes his cock past your lips again and you try your hardest not to gag, a little more prepared this time. The pulsing head of his cock situates itself firmly in your throat, the pubic hair at the base tickling your nose while his balls bounce against your chin. You look up at him with pleading eyes, watch as he stares down at you with nothing but malice in his expression, contempt. You're just a hole to him, nothing more.

He pulls out and lets you gasp another breath before he's shoving himself back in, hands moving back to hold your head firmly as he fucks your face. You don't move - you don't need to; he does all the work as he drags your head back and forth along his cock, hitting the back of your throat over and over again until you're gagging and practically sobbing for air. Your knees ache against the concrete floor and you know you'll have bruises tomorrow, know that you probably won't be able to swallow properly for a few days either. Somehow, you don't really care.

When he's gotten his fill he yanks himself out and allows you to catch your breath for a few seconds, throat constricting around nothing while you choke and gasp.

"Stand up," he orders, and even though you're still gasping for air you manage to bring yourself back up, legs shaking. Saliva drips down your chin, drooling from your mouth in long strands, but with your hands tied you can't make any attempt to clean yourself up - he probably wouldn't want you to anyway.

His wide palms are suddenly on your hips, and he picks you up and places you on top of the work bench with minimal effort, arms bulging. You're completely naked now save for your ripped tights while he's still fully clothed, dripping cock still peeking out past his zipper, covered in your saliva. He steps between your legs and pushes your thighs open, then slips inside of you once again in one short push, making you yelp.

"Oh, please," he grumbles, gripping your hips tightly and pulling your bare body taut against him, head hitting his chest, "We both know you can take it."

It's not like you have any other choice at this point. He fucks you harder than he had before, now that he has easier access, can pull you so firmly against him that his entire length is continuously swallowed up entirely by your dripping pussy. His nails dig into your skin as his cock fucks up against your cervix over and over, so relentless it's almost painful. It's overwhelming how huge he is, not just his cock but his body in general, the way he towers over you and watches your expressions as he takes what's now his.

"Poor little thing," he mumbles, bringing one of his hands up to thumb the tears on your face, "Never been so full, huh? It's okay, shhh," his finger finds your lips and pushes against them almost mockingly, like he's chastising you, "Shhh, this is what you asked for, remember? S'what you wanted." You shake your head but he just nods, "Yeah, it is. You wanted that cock and now you're gettin' it."

Suddenly you're being lifted from the workbench, carried in his embrace with his cock still buried deep inside. You cry out, wrists straining against the ropes, itching to wrap your arms around his neck and hold yourself up with more stability. His arms come up to stretch along the expanse of your back, holding you still and pulling you even closer. As if on instinct your legs bend upwards to wrap around his waist, curling around his lower back while he pistons inside of you without restraint, without mercy.

"Fuck," you almost scream, feeling the rough denim of his jeans scratching against your ass, the heaviness of his balls slapping against you over and over again, "Fuckfuckfuck!"

"Yeah, there she is, there's that little slut," he says, a smile spreading across his face, voice somehow calm despite the fact that he's pounding into you over and over, "Nothin' like gettin' fucked stupid to sort ya out, huh? Needed to be punished, didn't you, sweetheart?"

You don't answer, can't answer, eyes rolling back as he fucks you with abandon. Of course it's not a surprise when he lands a hard spank against your ass, grips your cheek tightly in his palm and growls roughly in your ear, "Answer me, little girl."

"Yes," you force yourself to gasp out, head tilting back, "Yes sir, yes."

"S'right," he mutters, and you suddenly feel the pads of his fingers against your clit, rubbing at an aggressively fast pace that sends depraved noises spitting past your lips, "Come on that cock, tighten up that little pussy even more for me, baby, come on."

It only takes seconds for him to make you come, your eyes rolling back as your body shakes and writhes in his grasp. He doesn't slow his movements, keeps fucking you deep and hard as your legs loosen at his waist and you flop like a ragdoll in his arms.

"Chokin' that dick," he murmurs, "Had so many cocks in this little hole and you're still the tightest thing I've fucked," his brow furrows as he watches your face, watches as your eyes flutter open and your jaw slackens, "And what about your other hole, baby?" You feel one of his fingers prod against your asshole, circle the rim as he continues to bounce you up and down, "Ever had a cock in there?"

You tense up a little in his embrace, eyes widening. At your reaction he slows his movements, still holding you upright and allowing you to just sit on his cock for a moment while he continues to prod your asshole, "I'll take that as a no," he mutters, "Think my cock'll fit up there?"

"It won't," you whisper immediately, shaking your head.

He assesses your expression, eyes trailing up and down your face calculatingly, like he's weighing the pros and cons. Your heart stutters in your chest and you feel that fear from earlier slowly begin to creep back into your psyche, hands shaking under the rope.

"I won't," he states, and relief floods through your body; you relax in his embrace, becoming aware again of his cock still buried deep inside you. He very carefully prods the tip of his index finger inside your asshole and your eyes go wide again, mouth opening in protest. "Yet," he amends, smiling coldly at you, "I won't yet. Not today."

He pulls his finger out and walks with you to the work bench again, places you down gentler than before and peers at you with something in his gaze that you can't place, a curiosity that wasn't there before. It's gone in an instant though, and then he's fucking into you again without warning, gripping tight to your hips and slamming back and forth until you see stars.

"You thought this'd be so funny, didn't you?" he growls, looking at you again with that detached contempt, black eyes locked with yours. He brings his hand down and starts rubbing your clit again, not caring that you only just came a moment ago. "Thought you'd come here, have your fun, and leave again. But it's not so funny anymore, is it? Huh? Is it funny?"

"N-no," you gasp out, overstimulated to the point of even more tears as you squirm and writhe on the work bench, pussy aching from the insistent way he's pounding you and the relentless rubbing of his fingers against your clit.

"S'the last time you show up here tellin' lies," he mutters, "Understand me? Any time you come into my house from now on you're gettin' fucked, got it?"

"Y-yes," you cry, hands futilely attempting to ball into fists behind your back, and he shakes his head.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir!" you scream it, and just as the words pass your lips he stills inside of you, cock twitching as he starts to come. Your eyes go wide, mouth dropping open as his hand sends you into another climax just as he reaches his. Your head falls against his chest and you hear him groan above you, feel the way his cock pulsates and throbs and spits his cum in long and heavy spurts. Your thighs twitch and you feel his hand at your back, pulling you in close as he cups the back of your head.

You stay like that for a moment without speaking, your heavy breaths the only sound in the garage other than the rain now pelting heavily against the door. You swear you can hear his heartbeat.

"Good little girl, warmin' my cock," he murmurs in your ear, and you're still catching your breath, eyes closed, sobs wracking from your throat repeatedly. "Full o'me, huh? You feel all that, baby?"

You can only nod against his chest, wrists still straining against the rope as your toes curl somewhere below you and your body continues to shake. His cum settles warmly deep inside and your eyes roll back a bit when he pushes in further, like he's trying to keep it inside for as long as he can.

"Guess I found a new little cum dumpster, huh?" he whispers, carding his fingers through your hair, "I'll have to say thank you to your friends, or -" he pauses thoughtfully for a moment, "maybe I'll just have to send 'em a little message back with you."

You pull your face back from his chest, peering up at him with tired confusion. He reaches down and pulls out one of the drawers of the work bench, coming back up with a sharpie. You watch with fluttering lashes, unable to stop him - and not really wanting to - as he uncaps the marker and pushes your hair out of the way to write something across your chest, the cold tip making you jolt slightly.

"Shh," he murmurs, "It's okay, I'll untie ya in a sec."

It doesn't take him very long to finish writing whatever it is on your skin, and then he's slowly pulling his cock out of you. You whimper at the loss, thighs twitching as you peer down and watch his softening length slip past your hole, followed by a steady stream of his cum. He quickly reaches up and pushes what he can back inside, thumbing it back in carefully while the reality of what's just happened really begins to settle. You just let a man in his fifties tie you up, use you, come inside you, and write on your chest.

"Can't have all that slippin' out yet," he mutters, "Now, what can we use?" His eyes dart up to the shelves above you and he reaches up to grab something; when his hand comes back down you see the pocket flashlight from earlier, see the slightly flared base and know almost immediately what he's planning on using it for.

For some reason - whatever reason it is that you stayed here after he gave you an out, whatever reason you really came here in the first place - you don't protest.

He brings the flashlight downwards and quickly removes his hand from your pussy to replace it with the wide end, slipping it inside with only minimal resistance. You whimper and he hushes you, brushing his nose against yours as he assesses his handiwork.

"That should do it," he murmurs, then peers back up at you and pushes some stray hair out of your face "You keep that in there 'til you get home, okay?" His eyes have softened a bit, looking more similar to the way they did when you first showed up - is this the real him? You honestly have no idea.

You don't say anything, just nod slowly, feeling the anxiety from earlier begin to sink in yet again. How are you going to get home when you have no clothes? How are you going to explain to your friends what happened? How can you tell them - or show them - what you let him do to you?

These questions are clearly none of his concern. You watch as he backs up and gestures for you to stand with him; you do, with beyond shaky legs and the cold metal of the flashlight between your thighs.

"Turn around," he orders.

You feel him untie the rope from your wrists, essentially ending your time here - whatever it even was. It somehow doesn't feel real. You let them hang limply at your sides, feeling embarrassment flood your cheeks as you turn back around to look at him. He's watching you with a smirk, arms crossed - his dick is back in his jeans. He looks no different than he had when you arrived.

"Now get the fuck out," he says, dark eyes glinting once again under the flickering fluorescents, "before I change my mind."

--

The air is still chilly. The road is still wet. But thankfully, there are no cars.

You don't know how you manage to get home without anyone seeing you - hunched over, naked in the darkness, avoiding the streetlights, trying to ignore the ache between your legs and the icy intrusiveness of the flashlight still lodged inside of you - but you do. Your palms are sweaty again, heart pounding at the thought of your friends coming to greet you at the door, for the shock and confusion and screaming to begin - but that doesn't happen.

The moment you're back in the house you pull a jacket down from the coat rack and cover yourself, tiptoeing past the living room and waiting to be accosted by the friends who put you in this situation to begin with. Instead, they're nowhere to be seen. You hear the faint echo of laughter from the kitchen, hear the sounds of glass clattering and a fridge being shut. It's like they've already forgotten you even left, like the game meant nothing, and they've already found something new to entertain them, something better.

As if your futile attempt at getting a kiss on the cheek from Joel Miller is already something lost in the past.

And, you think, as you shakily climb the stairs and creep into the bathroom, tear the jacket from your shoulders and stare at your bare chest in the bathroom mirror, see the dark permanent lines that read TRUTH OR DARE...

Maybe that's how it should be.

[giannaln4]

Away For Valentine's

lando norris x fem reader

summary: McLaren had the fantastic idea to launch their car on Valentine's day, and as much as you reassured Lando he didn't have to worry about it, he still wanted to make it up to you (1k words)

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: heyy everyone! so this is the very first fic i'm posting so please let me know what you think! i'm honestly pretty excited to get started with this blog so hopefully you guys like what i write. anyway please send some ideas my way!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

Valentine’s Day was off the table this year, and so was everything you had planned for you and your boyfriend.

You were disappointed when he shared the news with you, but you couldn’t be mad at him, not when it wasn’t his fault.

He saw the disappointment in your face, and how much you were trying to hide it by just smiling and nodding, your head finding a spot on his shoulder to avoid eye contact. He appreciated you understanding the situation, like you always did, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel guilty.

“I know we had plans-”

“Lan, don’t worry about it” You took a deep breath before looking at him again, trying to get rid of the sadness in your face “I mean it, we can do that some other time”

He was about to say something but a quick kiss on the lips stopped him. You proceeded to look at him, offering him a small smile and a glance that he knew meant ‘I don’t wanna talk about it’, so just nodded as he smiled back.

A few weeks go by and his winter break was coming to an end, meaning soon he’d have to leave the comfort of your shared home and go get started with his preseason duties. That’s something you were used to, having to see him leave for long periods of times but it barely ever affected your relationship. He always made sure he made enough time for you, even when the time difference was huge and he was feeling tired most of the time, he needed to make time for you. Your love for each other was so strong that, at the end of the day, you were just relieved you still had each other even if all you had was a five minute call every day.

But still, sometimes it was hard to see him go, and this time was one of those times.

The night you knew would be your last one with him before he left he decided to take you out on a date. Fancy clothes and an even fancier restaurant were your plans for the evening, and you knew he was trying to make up for Valentine's Day. It wasn’t the same, of course it wasn’t, but you still enjoyed every second of it.

The food, the small talk, the jokes, the stupid stories, the shy glances, the small touches, everything was perfect, almost making you forget he was getting on a plane in a matter of hours, but your smile slowly faded as soon as you remembered.

The ride back home was quieter than he would’ve liked, but he knew exactly what was going through your mind, and honestly he couldn’t blame you cause his mind was flooded with the same thoughts.

As soon as you got home he ran around the car and opened the door for you, offering his hand and kissing yours as soon as he took it. You smiled softly at him and you made your way to the door. Once you were inside, you dropped his hand to take off your shoes and tossed them somewhere close to the door, sighing in relief as you started walking towards your room.

“Mhm, come back here” He whispered as he grabbed your hand and pulled you back into him

“There you are” Lando smiled softly at you as his lips found yours. After a moment he broke the kiss, and both of his hands found a better spot on your waist as he started to move along the off-tune song he started to hum. You couldn’t contain your smile, quickly trying to keep up with him. You moved together in a slow dance, it was like your bodies were in perfect harmony. 

Lando was looking down at you in pure admiration, almost as if he was trying to memorize every centimeter of your face so he wouldn't forget it while he was away, but you didn’t dare to look up, scared you would make eye contact with Lando and you wouldn’t be able to take it, so you safe option was to rest your head on his chest and pray you didn’t mess up. Although it wouldn’t matter if you did, you were just in the comfort of your living room anyway. But you didn’t wanna mess up.

He eventually stopped humming, hoping the silence would encourage you to look at him, but when you didn’t he moved one of his hands to cup your check, making you look at him. For a moment your eyes lock, making the silence feel very loud and Lando couldn’t help but smile at you, and you immediately blushed, but tried to play it off. 

“You’re a terrible dancer” He laughed and you narrowed your eyes playfully and softly hit his shoulder.

“You’re one to talk” You joked, locking your fingers behind his neck and giggling when Lando scoffed.

“Maybe we should go out to dance and I could show you all of my moves” He started to move again, bringing you closer to him.

“I thought you didn’t like slow dancing”

“I do if I get to hold you this close to me” He replied, once again finding your lips.

This time the kiss was longer, both of them savoring each other’s lips while they still had the chance “I’m sorry about Valentine’s” He whispered once he pulled away, your forehead resting on his.

You giggled at this. You had assured him a million times he didn’t have to worry about that, and he still apologized every time he remembered “You need to stop apologizing”

“But I am sorry”

“I know, but it’s not your fault” You hand fell on his hair, slowly stroking his soft curls “And I had a great time tonight, so I’d say love is not dead”

He laughed at his, dimples appearing as his eyes vanish for a moment “I still wanna make it up to you”

“You will” You replied as your head fell back on his chest “But for now I just wanna enjoy this” You closed your eyes and inhaled his scent, and after a moment of complete silence you can feel him start moving again, his soft hums interrupting the peace his heartbeat was giving you.

[blondwhxrewrites]

Hello! This is my first time writing in and I just want you to know how much I love love love your blog!!

I was wondering if you’ve ever written anything about brothersbestfriend!Mattheo. I just imagine he’d feel super guilty at first, fooling around with his best friend’s sister. Maybe he’d try to break it off but reader would get all sad and pouty, insisting that her brother will never find out.

Whether the reader is biologically related or adopted is up to you. I also did not intend for it to be this long—ANOTHER ADDITION TO THE PRINCESS MULTIVERSE

Oh my god—You being Theo's pretty younger sister and Mattheo just being absolutely obsessed with you!!! He always thought you were interesting. You've always just kind of been there, kind of tucked in a corner, watching as he, Theo, and Draco played together. You were weird in your own little quirky way—quiet, introverted, but not shy. No, you weren't at all shy, just simply quiet. 

Mattheo always felt drawn to you in a way he really couldn't understand. You two just coexisted with each other, and it stayed that way until his sixth year, when you suddenly became 'beautiful' in the eyes of society. He always knew you were gorgeous, the most beautiful girl he had ever met, but now other boys and even some girls were starting to realize it too. The whole Slytherin gang becomes your impromptu guards on the orders of Theodore Nott. Suddenly, Mattheo is walking you to all of your classes and being forced to watch over you at parties—and that's when it really starts to go downhill for him.

You're the most wonderful being to ever exist, and holy shit, does it hit Mattheo HARD. You tend to ramble about the weirdest things like human anatomy, and your army of stuffed animals, and he's just nodding along admiring you like you're some sort of goddess. You give him little trinkets as gifts and he has a whole entire box full of them because he wouldn't ever dare throw them away. He's in love—there's no denying it. He'd done the one thing he swore he would never do...he fell for his best friend's sister. You immediately notice because, A, you've been watching Mattheo your whole life, and B, you know how to read people like a book. So, being the little shit you secretly are, you one day put on your prettiest outfit and waltz on down to one of the infamous Slytherin get-togethers, which is basically just a secret rave with how intense they can get. 

Of course, Theo is huffing and puffing while being forced to watch his little sister flirt with some random girl and Mattheo—oh dear lord he is FUMING. At that point, he knows you know because the whole entire time you're sending him little glances and faux innocent smiles.

You're strewn across his bed, crying and whining as he brutally thrusts into you not even caring if you're a virgin or not because you had the absolute audacity to be a brat and he made sure you were absolutely okay with him being rough beforehand. He's whispering just the NASTIEST things into your ear. 'yeah—you like being fucked by your brothers best friend? If I had known you were such a slut I would've done this a lot earlier' His hand is wrapped around your throat, he's got you in doggy style, pressing your head down against the mattress and watching your eyes roll back. Your cunt is just gushing around him and he knows if he doesn't stop he's gonna become addicted to your pussy—which isn't really saying a lot since he's already addicted to you. By the time he's done with you you've cum more times then you can count and you are one second from just passing out.

It's like his whole entire personality switches because he's suddenly cooing sweet praises as he cleans you both up. He's pressing soft kisses to your lips as he tells you just how much he adores you, and Mattheo just knows he can't let this go—he can't let you go. He eventually, and very hesitantly, lets you go back to your dorm after making extra sure nobody is around.

That night, he just stays up, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He's in a messy situation and he knows it, but honestly he doesn't really seem to care about how Theo would react if he ever found out about you two. In fact, the next day he pulls Theo into an empty classroom and locks the door. Theo doesn't even have time to react before Mattheo just spills everything. He could've ranted about his love for you for hours on end, and he's prepared to do that—that is, until Theo yells at him to shut up and is like, 'Mate, I knew this would eventually happen, so I've had years to prepare myself for this. My sister has been in love with you for years, and I'm sick of it, so please, for the love of Merlin, just take care of her and we are good.'

You are in your dorm reading about how bodies rot over time when Mattheo just busts in and grabs your book, placing it down, and kisses you silly. 'You're mine' he states as if you don't have a choice in the matter—and you really don't. The rest of your day is just spent in your dorm with him in blissful domestic peace.

Theo can finally rest in peace because HOLY SHIT—Mattheo is as dumb as rocks because how the fuck did it take him LITERAL years to realize he has feelings for you 😐

[nr1chaedickrider]

I can only be me when i'm by your side - i'm not a monster.

As time passes recovering, you've seemed to found your place in Jihyo's arms.

cw: fluff, smut, angst, petnames, virgin!reader, sweet girl!jihyo, popular but not so popular!jihyo, basketball player!jihyo, both are 18 but they are students, mentions of death, drunk confessions, they fall in love pretty fast, lwk rushed, lmk if there is more ^_^, ~ 4k words

if you're thinking "hm! i read this fic somewhere... yes! its my heeseung fic from my bg blog @adorwoo ! which i wanted to use for jihyo !^_^ hope you enjoy anyway.

men dni.

It's not your fault.

It's not your fault.

It's not your fault.

It's not your...

Is it really?

The rain beats down on your black umbrella, the lines from Dahyun's letter playing over and over in your head. It feels like you're trapped in a vicious cycle, not being able to think of anything else.

But why?

Why didn't she tell you?

Were all those conversations about the mutual trust between you two a lie? Was it just talk to keep you from worrying?

If someone had told you a week ago that you had to be at her funeral because she had killed herself, you would have laughed at that person. Dahyun was always the happiest person you've ever met.

Even if you had been told that a day ago, you wouldn't have believed it. Because in theory, it's the stupidest thing you've ever heard.

In his letter, she wrote about how much she loved you, how she enjoyed every minute and every moment with you, how it's not your fault that she's not here anymore.

She's probably right, not just probably. She's right, and you know it. But you can't stop blaming yourself. Someone has to take the blame. Someone is responsible.

You could have helped her.

You should have helped her.

Tears run down your cheeks as you stare at her grave. Her family, her friends, they are all gone. You stand here alone, not daring to leave.

'Kim Dahyun

Born on may 28, 1998.

A friend, daughter and lover.

She will continue to live in our souls.'

It feels like your eyes are glued to the writing, you can't look away. You try to regulate your breathing, taking a deep breath.

A sigh leaves your mouth as you place the white rose next to the gravestone.

You take one last look at her grave before turning and slowly walking away.

-

"I'm Y/n, nice to meet you all."

You look at the students in front of you, all of them giving you strange looks. Of course, you are a new student, but you feel uncomfortable under their gaze. The teacher smiles at you and tells you where to sit, next to a girl called Mina.

It's as if everyone has forgotten about you again as the teacher starts teaching. You sit down next to Mina and she smiles at you.

"Nice to meet you," she whispers. You smile at her.

You can't talk to her for long because she starts taking notes for the lesson. You look around at the faces of the others. It actually looks like a normal class, but your eyes land on a girl.

She looks shorter than you, her hair is brown as well as her eyes. She's wearing a white t-shirt.

"Have you laid your eye on someone?" asks Mina, laughing a little.

"No!" you answer, a little too loudly, and you put your head on the table as a few people look at you. "I was just looking at her," you whisper.

"Yeah yeah... that's what they all say" she says.

You slowly lose yourself in your thoughts as memories of Dahyun come flooding back.

Should you even look at other girls? Is it bad?

Would Dahyun hate you for trying to find love again?

It's been more than two months since she died, but you can't stop thinking about her.

Maybe it's normal, your behavior. Your overthinking of everything, maybe you're not the only person who feels this way? Maybe there is someone else who is just as lost in their thoughts as you are.

Maybe you are simply not alone.

However, your thoughts are interrupted by the bell and Mina.

"I can show you a few things here at school if you want," she suggests, and you gratefully accept her help.

You spend the whole lunch break running after her while she shows you around.

"Why did you change schools anyway? Your old one is a pretty well-known one, and much better than here," she asks, before taking a bite of her sandwich.

The question makes you wonder, and you think about whether you should just lie to her and say that you moved, or that you were somehow bullied at your school - but somehow it feels wrong. Because you neither moved nor were you bullied. No, everything was actually fine.

Actually,

Somehow everything changed after her death.

Your classmates started looking at you funny, and you still don't know whether they are looks of pity or looks of condemnation because they blame you.

"I don't know" is your answer, and somehow it's true. Sometimes you really have no idea why you changed schools, but Mina doesn't need to know the whole truth.

She just nods in response as she continues to eat.

"The girl you were looking at in English, her name is Jihyo by the way" she says.

What?

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask.

"Because you were staring at her a lot - you looked really interested in her" she replies with a little grin.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I wasn't staring at her..." you laugh a little, but can't hide your despair. Why does she think you're interested in her?

-

"Watch out!" someone shouts, but before you can react, a basketball hits you.

You fall to the floor, your head hurts and you feel slightly dizzy as you slowly open your eyes.

The girl from your English class is kneeling on the floor in front of you, looking at you, trying to see if you're okay.

It's like a cliché high school movie.

"Are you okay?" she asks, a couple of other girls come over, but she just tells them to get something to cool off and shoos them away.

The things that can happen when you want to visit the gym...

You nod slowly, after a few blinks your vision is no longer blurry.

Another girl comes back and hands Jihyo a cold pack.

"Here, take this," she says and puts it in your hand, her hand on your shoulder to support you.

You hold it to your head, biting the inside of your cheek slightly from the cold.

Before she can say anything else, she is called by his coach, at the same moment Mina comes to you.

"I was looking for you," she says and helps you up.

You watch Jihyo jogging across the field before you leave the gym.

-

New week, new luck?

Every day you tried desperately to talk to Jihyo somehow, but suddenly she was always gone after class and you were never put in a group together.

But it looks like luck is on your side for once.

"Here's the list of groups, you have to give a presentation in pairs on a play of your choice," your English teacher announces.

You look at the picture projected on the wall.

Chaeyoung and Mina,

Sana and Miyeon,

Jihyo and Y/n,

Jeongyeon and...

Wait, what?

You read the list again and once more you see your name and Jihyo's name next to each other.

"Jihyo and Y/n," you say quietly.

"Are you happy?" Mina asks teasingly with a grin on her lips.

"Are you happy that you have to work with Chaeyoung?" you ask back - Mina doesn't answer.

Before your teacher can give you any more homework for the break, the school bell rings and everyone rushes out of the classroom.

You walk (or rather, run) to Jihyo who is packing her things away.

"Hey, I was wondering when we should meet," you say, and she looks up at you and smiles. You feel your cheeks turning red.

She puts on his backpack and stands up.

"How about Friday afternoon? My place?" she suggests and you nod.

She takes a pen from her pocket, "Give me your hand," she says, you are confused but do it anyway.

She opens the pen with her mouth, the cap between her teeth as she gently writes on your hand.

Her phone number.

It feels like she's giving you an autograph.

"Text me and I'll send you my address," she says, and before you can answer, she walks out of the room.

You look down at your hand and see a little smiley face next to her number.

You can't help but giggle as you look at it.

-

You stare at your phone - up to her front door and back down to your phone.

You are 10 minutes early and don't dare to ring the doorbell.

"You know you can just ring the bell?" someone asks you, you look up and see Jihyo smiling at you.

"I'm early, that's why-"

"Not a problem," she interrupts you.

She lets you in and closes the door behind her.

Her house is beautiful, modern and yet somehow old-fashioned.

"My parents aren't here, so I thought we could study in the living room," she says, and you nod, leaning your backpack against the table.

"Water?" she asks and you take it gratefully.

You drink a little before she sits down across from you.

You both leaf through the books, take notes, talk briefly about certain passages, but otherwise no one says anything.

Jihyo decides to break the awkward atmosphere.

"I wanted to apologize again, for the basketball," she says, and you laugh a little.

"You don't have to apologize, things like that can happen," you reply.

"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" she asks, and instead of answering, you are completely silent, thinking.

Memories of Dahyun come back while Jihyo looks at you and waits for your answer.

"Yes, I did, but she died a few months ago," you answer.

She nods slightly, "Can I ask how he died?" she asks in a quiet, polite tone, as if she really wants to make sure that she's asking something that doesn't hurt you in any way.

"Suicide," you say, short and meager, without many details (whether you know many details at all is another question).

She looks at you with a supportive look, one that makes you feel like she's really listening and that she really understands you.

Maybe she understands you even more than you think?

She puts her hand on yours with a slight smile.

"Thank you for confiding in me," she says, your cheeks slightly flushed, hers too.

You both look at each other for a moment before she lets go and you both go back to work.

-

If only the work had gone on for longer.

After the one meeting, you saw her every day of the vacation. Always with the excuse that you supposedly "need to add something" (does going to the movies together add something to your project?).

It's been more than a week since you first met.

"You're in love," Mina says as she parks her car in front of Jihyo's house.

"I-"

"Don't even try to find an excuse, it's all good" she replies with a small grin.

You both get out of the car and walk to her house, the music so loud you can hear it several meters away.

How Jihyo, who is slightly drunk, hears the doorbell is also a mystery to you.

"Hey guys!" she greets you, she shakes Mina's hand and gives her a kind of high five, she gives you a hug.

You smile at her as the three of you walk into the living room.

"I'm going to Chaeyoung," Mina whispers, or rather shouts, in your ear before disappearing.

"Y/n, do you want to play a drinking game with us?" asks Jihyo, you nod.

Maybe it was a stupid decision.

Jihyo and her friends (of whom you only know Jeongyeon) only understand drinking games to mean taking shots and asking stupid questions.

Either answer - or drink.

You always chose the second option.

After about 7 questions (maybe more, maybe less - you lost count of that pretty fast) you get up and say that you need some fresh air.

Since you've been to her house several times, you know where the upstairs balcony is.

It's quite big, with a parasol and two folding chairs. You sit down on one and close your eyes, your head throbs a little.

"Are you okay?" someone asks after a few minutes.

To your surprise (not really a surprise), Jihyo stands next to you before sitting down on the chair to your right.

"Yeah, it's just the alcohol," you say.

You and alcohol, not really a good combination.

Especially not when you're sitting next to the girl you're in love with.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" you ask out of nowhere.

She shakes his head, "I thought it was obvious" she says and laughs a little.

"I love you" you confess.

She turns to you, but before he can answer anything, you keep talking.

"I know we haven't known each other that long... a month?? more? less? but-... I just have this feeling with you that I only used to have with her"

"I thought I'd never feel it again," you say, a tear running down your cheek.

Jihyo looks at you, her eyes slightly watery.

Is she crying too?

"Y/n" she says, interrupting your continued rambling.

She gets up, kneels down in front of your chair, and -

kisses you.

Her soft lips on yours.

She pulls away after just a few seconds and you already feel like you miss her lips.

"I love you too Y/n" she says softly.

You look at her in amazement.

"Really?" you ask.

"That's why I asked if you had a girlfriend" now it all makes so much more sense.

She pulls you up and takes you to the guest room. She tries to lay you down on the bed but you pull her with you and she falls on top of you.

You both stare at each other and laugh a little.

"You're drunk, get some rest," she says, kissing your forehead.

"I'll be here when you wake up"

-

And she really is next to you when you wake up.

"Good morning..." you groan as you rub your eyes.

She smiles at you, "good morning" she says, from the look on her face you suspect she woke up just a few minutes before you.

You pull her closer to you by her collar and kiss her, she kisses you back while her hand is on your cheek.

The kiss is just perfect, gentle, slow, a perfect way to start his morning.

But it can also be perfect in another way.

It gets warmer under the covers as you continue kissing, she kisses down your jaw to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses on it. You can't help but rub your thighs together a little.

"What about the others?" you ask.

"I kicked them out yesterday after you fell asleep" she says, continuing to kiss your neck, even nibbling on it, making you let out soft moans.

"Jihyo, I think you should know that I am a virgin" you say, your cheeks heating up a little in embarrassment.

She giggles a little, kissing you on the lips again.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about baby" she replies with a smile.

She gets on top of you, continuing to kiss you.

You think kissing Jihyo is the best thing in the world.

Her hands trail over your body, giving you a soft squeeze here and there.

"Can I?" she asks, her hand playing with the buttons on your pants.

"Please" you answer with a smile.

She complies and opens them, pulling off your pants and leaving you in your underwear.

You sit up a little, your hands on her waist, feeling up her muscles, especially her abs.

"Want me to take it off?" she asks, you nod.

She pulls off her shirt over her head, dropping it somewhere on the floor.

Your finger trails up his stomach to her bra, looking at her like she is a work of art (she definetly is one).

"Done admiring me?" she asks with a teasing grin, to which you reply "never".

She leans down again, kissing your face as she starts to trail them down till he arrives at the waistband of your underwear.

"Can I?" she asks again, "yes" you answer, already out of breath.

She takes your underwear off, her hands placed on your thighs as she leaves kisses everywhere.

You can definetly tell that she has a thing for kissing.

When she places a kiss right on your clit though, you let out a small moan.

She begins licking and sucking on it, making you grab her hair with your hands as your fingers curl deeper into her scalp, leaving a delicious burn.

She drags her tongue down as she circles your core, slowly entering it a little.

You let out more moans as you turn your head to the side, moaning into the pillow.

Her tongue feels so good when you realise that you are closer and closer to your climax.

"Jihyo- I think I'm gonna-"

"Let it out princess" she mumbles against your core, the vibrations of her voice stimulating you even more as you cum into her mouth.

She smiles at you as he sits up, watching you coming down from your high.

You smile back at him as your cheeks turn red again.

"Can I?" she asks, her fingers trailing down your soft skin as her nails scratch you a little.

You look at her hand, a few veins poking out, her fingers thin but long.

You look at her again, nodding.

You pulled her closer as she rubs your clit with her fingers, you suck in your breath as she slowly pushes them in, the little stretch burning in a way that makes you even hornier.

She slips them in completly, you let out a moan in response. She takes your hand with her free one as your fingers intertwine.

She starts to slowly thrust into you, kissing you again as her tongue explores your mouth.

"You're so tight baby.." she mumbles into your mouth.

You can't help but let out louder moans when she starts to speed up a little.

Her fingers drive you crazy, it feels like she is everywhere, you feel her everywhere in your body as she exits and enters you.

"P-please jihyo- faster" you moan out, and who would she be if she wouldn't listen to your wishes?

She speeds up her thrusts, kissing down your neck again as her hot breath hits your skin.

Your hand grips the pillow your hand is laying on, moaning against your arm as you can feel Jihyo curling her fingers.

She thrusts into you again before you moan loudly, cumming as your thighs close around her wrist, panting heavily as she lets herself fall onto the spot next to you.

You both stare at the ceiling, the only sounds the heavy breathing from you.

You move her hand to yours and intertwine your fingers. She moves her head to the side to look at you, smiling.

You think seeing her smiling is something you can never get enough of.

-

Idiots in love, thats how you two can be described.

The next few months were full of love. Kisses here, kisses there. It didn't even have to be sexual, no, it was always romantic, no matter what you did together.

After a few months, she gave you a ring.

"One day I'll buy you an expensive, real diamond ring and ask you to marry me," she said, and since then you've both worn the matching rings without taking them off once.

If only it had stayed that way.

It's late at night, you're lying in bed reading a book when you get a message.

"I love you,

I'm sorry" - from Jihyo.

You sit up and stare at your cell phone.

"What's wrong?" you type and send the message, she replies,

"I can't take it anymore"

She can't take it anymore?

You feel a twinge in your head as you suddenly realize something.

It's too similar to Dahyun's goodbye.

"I can't live in this world anymore" she wrote in her text.

You look at her location, and without hesitation you walk, no - storm out of your apartment and run to her.

She's not far away, a bridge situated over a river only 5 minutes away, and you think you've never been so grateful for anything.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to see anything while your clothes get wetter and wetter, the rain completly drenches you.

Again it feels like a cliché love drama.

Only maybe this time you have the chance to have a happy ending.

Your legs are burning from all the running as you arrive on the bridge.

"Jihyo!" you shout, the rain pattering loudly on the asphalt, forcing you to shout even louder for her.

Her bike is right next to her, one leg over the railing, her hands gripping it tightly, as if she's...

Scared?

"Y/n?" she answers, her voice low and shaky.

"Please..." you say as you walk slowly towards her.

She doesn't stop you when you take her hand in yours.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, she looks at you as a tear runs down her cheek.

"I-... I didn't want you to worry. I thought this feeling would go away if I didn't talk to anyone about it," she says.

Whether your face is wet from the rain or your tears, you don't know.

"Believe me, you have to talk to me, then it will get better," you say.

Her face comes closer to yours and, without answering, she kisses you.

You kiss her back, try to grab her so you can hold her closer - but she lets go.

Completely.

You slowly open your eyes, afraid of what you will see - but you see nothing.

No one.

The rain completely overwhelms you.

"No..." you whisper, looking down on the floor and picking up something shiny.

Her ring.

You look out over the railing and see the water turning slightly red.

It feels like you're trapped in a vicious circle, like you'll never find peace again.

You are trapped, with no way out.

-

While other people find the rain soothing, you find it to be more like torture.

While other people would stay indoors in weather like this, you're outside again.

Again in front of a grave.

But this time it's Jihyo's.

Everything feels too similar and you hate it more than anything.

"It's not your fault" is a sentence you started to hate.

You hoped so much that you would never have to hear or read it again.

"Why didn't you talk to me..." you whisper, as if she could hear you.

Your hand clutches the letter, it slowly getting soaked by the rain.

You don't dare to move.

"You knew what happened..."

All time does is passing -

"Why did you hide it from me..." Your voice is full of despair.

And all you ever do is grieve.

"Life without you is no way to live" the white flower falls on his grave -

just like her ring,

engraved with your name.

She helped you recover from Dahyun's death.

You just wish you wouldn't have to recover over her death alone now.

In another universe, you've seemed to found your place in Jihyo's arms.

In this universe, you're left alone,

again.

[circusinthewalls]

Semi-NSFW Poly 141 Ramblings - MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS DNI [Masterlist]

Admittedly, you're not really one for drinking. Too picky, maybe, or simply too busy to have much of an idea for what you actually like. You wouldn't dare miss a night out to celebrate a successful mission, though, so here you sit.

You have your drink cradled in your lap, idly tracing the edges of the sweating glass while you watch Gaz absolutely wipe the floor with Soap in a game of pool. Price is watching, too, from where he's sat on your left, and you can feel his chest rumble with a low chuckle against your side when Johnny loses yet again. A shame, honestly. Who knew Gaz was so good at the game?

You hum and take another sip of your drink, eyes flickering over to the side when Ghost slides back into the curved booth. He retakes his place on your right now that he's got his second whiskey in hand. You eye him for a moment as he hikes up his balaclava just enough to take a drink, but then your gaze is forward again.

Johnny is moping, unsurprisingly. He trots off, briefly exiting your private room to get himself another shot at the bar.

While Kyle is setting up the pool table for what feels like the hundredth time your captain turns his attention to you, pulling you a little closer against him, thumb hooking beneath your waistband to stroke over your hip. You're a tad buzzed, mellowed out by what you've had of your alcohol, but the touch isn't unwelcome. Leaning back further into him, you rest your head against his shoulder, casting a questioning glance up in his direction.

"What, bug?" he asks.

Your eyes crinkle at the affectionate nickname, but you just shrug.

"You're the one staring," you mutter, to which he laughs.

"'Spose so." He leans down, brushing his forehead with yours. "Just checkin' on ya."

When his lips meet yours, you can taste the bitterness of whatever hard cider he's been drinking and initially grimace. Tastes like shit, but then his tongue pushes into your mouth, and you don't seem to care anymore.

Price gives a satisfied groan at the way you practically melt. He sets down his drink, instead using the now free hand to grope at your thigh, tugging a bit in between squeezes like he's debating pulling you into his lap. You can only whine into the kiss, lost in it all.

That is until Simon's voice pierces the fog in your mind.

"Fuckin' hell, save some for the rest of us."

Kyle chuckles, cutting in from across the room.

"Can't even make it back to the hotel," he comments, "and leaving poor Johnny out, too."

Price reluctantly pulls away to speak, but his hands don't cease their movements.

"Never said we couldn't share."

Well fuck. Maybe tonight would be better than you'd expected.

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

Blehhh, sorry for any typos and whatnot. It's late and I didn't feel like proofreading.

Will probably write up a short part two for this in the morning, but that will be proper smut. Do be on the lookout if interested? Feel free to ask to be tagged, too. o7

Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

[spitdrunken]

THIS IS INCREDIBLY SELF-INDULGENT BUT. MY BLOG!

notes: power imbalance, sexual harrassment, murder mentions.

rotating a thought in my head where 'you' are an increasingly popular erotica writer from the pride ring. with writing, you've hit a bit of a niche, as a lot of the big porn producers (VoxTech's subsidiaries) are not exactly known for their riveting dialogue or personalities. no one's there for anything more than that, but there are demons who do want a bit more 'meat', so to say, with nowhere else turn. that is where you come in!

it's not enough to make a steady living off of, not even when you start taking incredibly specific commissions, but it's never been more of a hobby anyway. you are completely anonymous online, keeping care to use throwaway emails and accounts for everything. still, voxtech's products are utterly inescapable: it's either using them, or using nothing at all. (and those rumours about their boss vox having complete control over his technology, even after selling, has to be a rumour... you hope.)

meanwhile, as your penname continues to grow more and more recognizable, it falls in the vees' meeting room. valentino's immediate suggestion is just to kill you. people in the comments keep comparing his dialogue to yours. what the fuck is that about? who the hell watches porn for the DIALOGUE in the first place?

velvette, while shrugging her shoulders, only adds that their new releases tend to go trending, prior to release. fucking far from the top of that list, but still. trending is trending.

vox, sighing internally, plasters a smile on his face. there's really no need to kill new up and coming talent, val. we should suggest them to work for us instead. and if they don't... we can simply prevent them from working. they'll make up their mind, then.

you return to your laptop to an utterly inescapable pop-up describing the opportunity of a lifetime: the chance to work at voxtech! it's a whole wall of text, describing your pay (higher than you would have expected), where you will be living (in one of the appartment buildings owned by voxtech), and when to head to their main office. there is no word on denying the contract, an utter impossibility, it seems. not that you'd dare. vox's and the radio demon's showdown was the talk of the ring for days, and apparantly, all that rancour was the source of alastor denying a contract of his own. that really is more shit than you can handle in your undead life now. so, you take the job.

as your stories are starting to get heavily promoted, velvette absolutely insists that you add in at least a couple of looong clothing descriptions, based on her tastes. she's such an overwhelming, pushy presence, that it's hard for you to say no. she goes on about how, if it gets popular enough, people might be interested in somewhat similar outfits. probably not, though, let's be honest with ourselves. she makes you model them, all the while telling you that you really wouldn't be allowed to breathe in the direction of her studio otherwise. when you ask her why you absolutely have the one modelling, she just rolls her eyes. you based large parts of their appearances after you, didn't you? might as well make you look the part.

valentino is one of the worst parts of the job. compared to everyone else, he hardly pesters you, but he's still a terrifying presence. he'll give you 'suggestions' and make you steer your work in certain directions, getting too close and blowing smoke into your face. he gives a graphic description of how he jacked off to one of your stories, just to see your response. (this is a lie: why would he jack off if he can just call some stupid whore over to do it for him? also, he doesn't read.)

if a part of one of your stories ever gets a 'porno adaptation', he's having you play the part of the director, and has you sit in during the entirety of the viewing. you can tell he takes great pleasure out of any of your discomfort, or any of your fumbling- until it's too sloppy, and then he gets mad, of course, and you end up leaving the room with shaky legs.

vox seems to be the nicest one out of the three of them. really, he's only ever been courteous to you. but you've seen him flip his lid during the aforementioned 'radio demon fiasco', which you have been wise enough to never mention, so you still walk on eggshells around him. he can also get pretty pushy about deadlines, so you're not taking any chances.

he insists on having semi-regular meetings with you about the sales figures of your most recent works, wherein you also have to describe your process on other projects and pitch new ideas. frankly, you wish these meetings could be an email! but even when you tried to broach the subject, telling him that, surely, the company leader's time is much more important than this?

he simply brushed you off, telling you that he can decide for himself who and what to spend his time on, thank you very much. now, please continue. he'll inform you of the latest kinks and dynamics that have been most popular, though with some peculiar additions as well. you swear that, sometimes, the main character really does seem to resemble yourself in those suggestions, and the love interest a member of the vees...? you're certain you're just imagining it.

[acey-wacey]

Good morning!!! Congrats for hitting 2000 followers, I think you really deserve it! Also, I'm really glad that you've returned! I've been following your blog ever since last year, when I found your "Love Rivals" and "Meeting your future children", I really like how you portray the twst characters in your writings! There are times where I smiled For the 2000 milestone event, could I please request Idia with Lavender (Mind Reading)? You know how Idia usually think lowly himself, right? What if Idia has feelings for reader, yet he doesn't take action because of his low self-esteem/fear of rejection, but when Idia got in a potion accident where he can temporarily read minds, all he can hear from reader's mind are praises and thoughts of infatuation/admiration about him.

So that's the general idea of it, the rest is up to you. Also, I don't mind if you'll make a few changes here and there. That's all, thank you and have a nice day!

This is so cute! Thank you for hanging around so long!

I may have niche-video-game-referenced my way a little too close to the sun with this one. Hopefully, it makes sense to somebody.

...

Pairing - Idia Shroud x Reader

Prompt - Mind Reader

...

"Tuna, tuna, tuna, tuna, tuna, tuna, tuna, tuna..."

It has been 40 minutes since Idia had gained his powers of telepathy and already he wanted them gone. Grim hadn't had a single thought the entire class except a dumb song he made up about tuna.

The whole thing had been Grim's fault really. The mischievous cat had run away from you and invaded the 3rd year alchemy room. And of course he ran right into Idia just as the upperclassman was adding ground eye of newt to his animal comprehension potion, causing the vial to smash all over him.

You had apologized profusely and tried to wrangle Grim back to your classroom, but Crewel made you miss your class and clean all the dirty cauldrons as punishment, thus why Idia couldn't stop hearing Grim's

Everyone else went on with making their potion, but unfortunately for Idia and his tendency to get overstimulated, he could hear the immediate thoughts of every person in the classroom. He had been trying and failing to pay attention to the lesson due to the crazy noise. Serves him right for daring to venture outside his room.

"I think I put too much nightshade."

"When's lunch again?"

"Sevens, he's pretty."

Idia perked up in his seat. That last one was your voice. He looked over to where you were scrubbing grime off the rim of a black cauldron. Much to his surprise, he made eye contact with you. You looked away so fast, he almost thought he imagined it in the first place.

"Shoot, I hope he didn't catch me staring," you thought. Idia could see the embarrassment in your face now that he knew what he was looking for. He didn't know who was standing behind him, but whoever the guy was was maxed out in luck to get the prefect to like him.

Idia turned back to his cauldron and began to stir lethargically. He tried to block out the noise coming from everyone's thoughts but it was getting very loud. He just wanted to be back in his room playing video games!

"His little pout is so cute! Poor thing, he probably wishes he was back in his room," you thought. Idia's brows furrowed as he subtly looked around the classroom trying to find the person you were thinking about. "I wonder what he's looking for."

Idia snapped back to look at you, only to find you glancing at him again. This time, you were startled but you held his gaze and offered a hesitant wave.

Idia turned his face away as fast as he could so you wouldn't see the growing blush on his face.

"Hm, his hair is turning pink on the ends. I hope he's not mad at me for staring at him," you thought, turning back to the cauldron you were working on. "Though if he doesn't want me to look at him, maybe he should try being less nice to look at."

Idia let out an involuntary squeak. He felt his head start to swim and quickly sat down on a nearby stool. He was sure he looked absolutely crazy to the other students but he was so preoccupied by your thoughts that were apparently about him.

"Is that shallow of me to think that? I don't know. I mean, I don't like him just because he's cute. I also love listening to him talk about games he likes and his inventions are crazy awesome!"

Idia pulled himself deeper into his jacket. Your gaze had been fixed firmly on your work for fear of being caught staring again, so you didn't notice Idia's rapidly increasing fluster meter.

"I like how sweet he is to Ortho, even though he kind of hates everyone else." You sounded kind of defeated when you thought that, or at least you would if your thoughts sounded like anything. "He probably hates me too. I am just another normie. Though I don't know if he co-ops Untitled Goose Game with just anyone."

"No! I don't!" he wanted to scream, but he couldn't get a single sound out of his mouth. He thought he was the self-deprecating one, but you seemed to have convinced yourself that the boy who had a big fat, very obvious crush on you hated you. He even let you play the blue switch controller even though it was his favorite.

"I do wish he would stop being so mean to himself though," you thought, more sincere than Idia expected. "He's so amazing, but refuses to believe anything nice I or Ortho say to him. Maybe if he read my mind, he'd know I'm being sincere."

Idia froze. Did you know about the potion? Had you been messing with him the whole time?

"Well, that little brat better believe me when I tell him I love him even if I have to beat it into him with a Wii remote tennis racket attachment," you thought with a playful vengeance. "Do you hear that, Idia Shroud? I'm gonna make you believe nice things about yourself no matter how many niche video games references it takes!"

That was the moment you decided to glance at Idia, downright shocked when you found him curled up inside his hoodie on a stool with bright pink hair poking out the top.

"Idia, are you okay?" you asked. When he didn't respond, you went up to him and brought your face down to where his would be if you could see it. "Hey, are you alright?"

He jumped, almost falling off the chair.

"You actually said that?" he looked stunned which confused you.

"Yes?" you offered, unsure what he was talking about. "I did just say it."

"Uh, um, I'm, uh, fine," Idia tried to smile at you but it came off more pained than reassuring.

"I don't believe you. What's the matter? Is it too loud in here?" you asked.

"Shame he's always hiding his face. His blush is so adorable!"

"Yes!" Idia shrieked frantically, catching the attention of a few nearby students. "It's too loud. I can't think."

You nodded empathetically.

"You wanna step out for a minute?" you offered, gesturing to the door with a nod of your head. Idia nodded, desperate to get away. It really was very loud, especially with everyone's thoughts flooding his brain. Your seemingly-harmless sweet nothings were only the final nail in his coffin.

You followed Idia out of the room and shut the door behind you.

"Won't Professor Crewel get mad?"

You scoffed.

"Not a single teacher at this school gets to get mad at me after everything I've done," you leaned against the wall with a calming smile. "And if they do, they'll answer to the ghosts that live in my house."

That made Idia chuckle. You lit up seeing a smile on his face, no matter how minute.

"I love seeing you smile. If only I could be the reason more often."

"You're pretty much the only reason," Idia mumbled. Your easy smile dropped.

"What did you say?"

"What?" Idia averted his eyes, his mind filling with panic. "I didn't say anything."

"No, no, you said 'you're pretty much the only reason'," you questioned, your eyes full of confusion and shock. "That sounded like... I don't know, I was thinking something and then you said that and it sounded like..."

You squinted in confusion before scoffing at yourself and relaxing.

"That's stupid, Y/N. He can't read your mind."

"Actually, I can?" Idia squeaked, his voice getting higher with every word. Your eyes widened.

"Idia," you said solemnly, standing dead still.

"Mm-hm?"

"You can read my mind."

"Well, not usually, but there was a thing with a potion and it was with Grim and it messed with my head and now I can read minds and it's actually really loud but mostly I'm just nervous because of the stuff you've been thinking and I'm just really..."

You held up a hand to silence Idia's rapid rambling. He looked away sheepishly. You sighed and blinked a few times to process before laughing. Idia looked up in confusion.

"Aren't you mad?" he asked hesitantly. "I violated your privacy."

"I mean, you saved me the time of confessing to you myself," you chuckled, a giddy smile on your face.

Idia stared at you, trying to find traces of joking but you seemed to be serious.

"You aren't mad?"

"I'm in love with you is what I am."

[ficsbynats]

The moment you sat down, you regretted your decision. Before long a practically radioactive bowl of ramen was placed in front of you. opposite to you was katsuki, with a grin you wanted to smack off his face.

Today at breakfast you strutted up to katsuki and stole his chopsticks with a piece of chicken right from his hands and popped it in your mouth. All around you you recall hearing the terrified gasps of mina, denki and sero.

"Y/N!!!", Mina screamed.

"Are you okay??", Sero questioned.

"HERE TAKE THIS QUICK!!!",kaminari exclaimed offering you his strawberry milk box.

"Huh?", You looked at them, confused at their reaction.

"WHAT THE HELL IDIOT?!", bakugou screamed towards you to which you just gave a cheeky grin chewing your food.

Before continuing your bickering, you looked back to see the three of them looking at you in shock. Kirishima spoke up, "uhh y/n you okay?"

"Huh? Yea why wouldn't I be?", You heard katsuki grumble something about how you wouldn't be if you ever dare do this again.

"Well...", He side eyed bakugou's lunch, "it's just that bakubro's food's really spicy... So you doing good?"

"Yea girl bakugou's food is not to mess with."

You smacked your lips, the food was actually pretty spicy but it wasn't that bad, but then you had to go and open your big ass mouth, "pfft this? Spicy?", You turned to bakugou, "this spicy to you? Haha this is amateur stuff bakugou!", You said with a smirk taking the chance to tease him without thinking of the consequences.

You could see bakugou getting much MUCH more pissed off. "The hell you said?..."

Your grin faltered as you heard his tone. You were in so much trouble.

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

And so the challenge commenced. Across from you sat Bakugou, with an identical bowl Infront of him as well. Both of you started eating your hot ones style ramen bowls. At first it was okay, you had an amazing plan: eat as quickly as you can before the spice kicks in. You had your pride and reputation to save for goodness sake...

Honestly, how you got out of that alive you have no idea. Both of you were able to finish the bowls unharmed, but your taste buds will disagree. But you revel in the fact that Bakugou seemed almost as struck by the spice as you. Although he was good at hiding it, you picked up on the subtle signs and the smug smirk never left your red, swollen lips for the rest of the night.

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Extra: An hour after lights out, you hear a quiet knock on your door, opening which revealed a messy haired Bakugou. "..... Wanna go grab a fuckin ice cream or something..." He said in a small voice. You noticed his own swollen lips and flushed cheeks. effects of the spice, you thought. With a small laugh, you replied "sure, let's go."

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A/n: look, My relationship with motivation has just been a bit wonky, we're supposedly taking a "break" but it came back for a while, I don't exactly know how long it will stay but I try my best to keep our relationship secure, okay? Anyways, enjoy this little piece of writing. I hope the next one will come soon.

In the meantime, check out my blog for longer pieces or similar ones. take care and water your plants, pet your pets and drink water.

Comments, reblogs and any interactions are very much appreciated. Drop a request. Stay safe <3

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

time to go home

Pairing: Mob!Andy Barber x female!reader

Summary: You thought you'd slipped out of his grasp but you should have known better than to underestimate Andy Barber.

Warnings: petnames (honey), dark!Andy, threats of violence, controlling behaviour. This blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Author's note: It's rare I go a bit dark but this was very fun to write and I am not above writing more (word count: 659)

"You look beautiful, honey."

Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice. The deep baritone causes goosebumps to rise across your skin and a shiver to run down your spine.

You had been so careful. You changed your name. You moved state. You waited. You waited years before letting yourself live again. Before letting yourself believe you were safe, that he would never find you.

You'd been wrong.

His name is nothing but a whisper on your lips as you urge yourself not to cry.

You hear the door shut softly the lock clicking into place as your heart sinks.

"I told you I'd find you."

His voice is closer now and you know better than to turn around. You can feel your muscles tensing with every painful second that passes as you wait for him to come closer to you.

This was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. In thirty minutes you were supposed to be walking down the aisle to start the rest of your life with the man you loved.

"You don't love him, honey. Not like you love me."

You spin around on instinct, forgetting exactly who you are dealing with as you prepare to give him a piece of your mind.

"How dare-"

He cuts you off with a laugh and a tight grip on your jaw.

"How dare I?" he laughs, but there's no humour there. Pulling you closer until you're against his chest, wincing as his fingers dig into your cheeks. "How dare you, honey. I've got to say you didn't make it easy. How long has it been exactly?"

You don't answer. Putting all your energy into keeping your tears at bay as you look into the cold eyes of the man you once loved, the man you now feared.

If you had known what Andy was, you would have never let yourself fall into his trap. But, hindsight was a wonderful thing.

Andy was charming, doting, protective and handsome. He was everything a girl dreamed of. He treated you like a queen, you wanted for nothing.

But there were two sides to every coin.

For as charming as Andy was he was just as manipulative. For as doting, he could be just as cold and indifferent. For as protective, he was even more possessive.

You knew Andy was a powerful man from the moment you met him but you had no idea just how much power and influence he possessed.

He made you dependent on him, had you let go from your job, and cut off from your family and friends. You became isolated. He was your only source of comfort and he never let you forget it.

"That's not what love is, Andy," you whisper, no longer able to keep your tears at bay.

The dark look in his eye should scare you but you've seen it enough times. Accustomed to what it means and you know you're not getting out of this this time.

"Just please don't hurt him," you whimper. Thinking about your fiance waiting for you at the end of the aisle.

Andy shushes you gently, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks, "Oh honey, you're really not in a position to be making demands."

Your eyes widen as a sob tears out of your throat.

Sighing, Andy rolls his eyes at your tears, clearly bored by your attachment to a man who isn't him.

"Fine, I'll let him live," Andy concedes, one hand slipping down to wrap around your throat.

You choke on a sob as his hand tightens enough to convey his next warning.

"But if you ever try and leave me again, I will put a bullet between the eyes of everyone you care about. Do you understand?"

You nod weakly, a new wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.

"Good girl," he purrs, placing a soft kiss against your lips and sealing your fate, "let's go home."

This was fun!! I wouldn't mind writing more if any one has any thoughts... thank you for reading, as always comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ✨💜

[t-lostinworlds]

The Grump & The Drunk | Miguel O'Hara

》 PAIRING: miguel o'hara x spider-woman!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: grumpy x (drunk) sunshine, fluff, humor

》 SUMMARY: You were clingy, feisty with no filter when you're drunk. Miguel had front row seat of it—literally. You're lucky he didn't mind. In fact, he was glad it was him and not anyone else. The thought made him seethe in jealousy even though you technically were not his girl. But he wasn't sure if that still rang true after tonight's drunken confession (or that make-out session).

》 WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, soft!miguel (also emotionally constipated!miguel but what's new), r calls him miggy to tease him, height difference (he's 6'9" he's an effin giant), r thirsts over him in front of his face lol, some innuendos, brief argument about feelings, overall very cute and fluffy.

》 WORD COUNT: 6.1k+

A/N: can anyone guess what movie i watched recently. is anyone surprised that i liked the grump with a side of trauma lmao. ANYWAY. this is the first time i'm writing miguel so pls be nice. wrote this fairly quickly too and it's barely proofread sooo. but i hope you still enjoy it!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

It was late.

Quiet.

Well, for now, at least.

Moments like these were rare to come by, where there wasn't much to do except to let things happen. The multiverse was stable enough not to need any intervention.

It usually was the epitome of the calm before the storm.

Nevertheless, everyone—well, those left at HQ and weren't on stakeout—in the Spider Society took advantage of it.

There was always some sort of activity going on during these types of days. Most of it were small get-togethers in the cafeteria, or perhaps a low-key karaoke in the cinema room. Other times it was much more on the nose.

Right now, there was a party held on the rooftop.

The music was blaring—muffled for him, thanks to his soundproofing—as it jumped from genre to genre depending on who successfully bribed the DJ.

It was rowdy—that he was sure of. What, with the modified alcohol strong enough to affect any Spider-Person as if they weren't enhanced, how could it not be?

Miguel wasn't one for festivities. Not to mention, strobe lights always gave him bad migraines. So after showing face for about ten minutes—he wouldn't have shown up at all but was begged to go by someone he couldn't say no to—he decided to call it a night.

Well, back to his…Spider-Cave.

He was sure there would be copyright issues if that was made official.

But it was dubbed by you so it simply stuck.

You, with bright eyes and a sweet smile as you pleaded for him to come with you to the rooftop even if it was "just a couple minutes, please?"

You, who wore a simple yet gorgeous black dress as you all but dragged him into the elevator, bouncing with excitement because it was going to be your first party here at HQ.

You, who enthusiastically sipped on your Pink Señorita—a margarita with pink lemonade—giddy to feel the buzz of the alcohol after years of being unable to.

You, who was so joyful and uncaring as you danced to your heart's content when your favorite song came on, right in the middle of the floor, shining as bright as the sun as the others revolved around you.

Miguel only watched from the sidelines, his chest aching with longing. So close but out of reach because he couldn't.

He'd only put a damper on your light.

It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when.

He couldn't do that to you.

Soft spot.

Miguel had very few of those.

Anyone who dared to give their opinion on his life with the bravery to say it right to his face said one was occupied by you.

Some would even imply that you held the biggest one.

And sure, the first time Lyla scouted you and suggested for you to be recruited into the Spider Society he might've said yes far too quickly than he should've. But that was only because he saw the way you took down a sector of the Maggia all on your own. He was thoroughly impressed.

There were also times when he let you get away with annoying him scot-free. Whether that was teasing, various nicknames, talking his ear out for hours as you refused to leave him alone to do work, and sometimes even pranks. If it were any other person doing the same things you would've done, they would be leaving the premises at least fearing their life.

He also let you spend time around his magic carpet—as you so unoriginally named it. You were constantly testing those copyright issues—quite often to the point that some of your stuff had migrated the space. There were little trinkets scattered around, evidence that you'd been here.

Miguel finally bought a desk chair perfectly suited for his big and tall stature all because you complained about not having anywhere to sit while you were up here with him.

It was more your chair than it was his, to be honest, since you definitely sat on it far more than he had.

Sure, he could've bought an extra one for you but he didn't want to encourage the teasing—that had been nonstop since you waltzed into his life—that he was playing favorites.

He preferred to stand while he worked, anyway.

Fine.

He could kinda see why many people would say he had a soft spot for you.

Speaking of…

Miguel could hear you before he could even see you.

You were giggling to yourself, followed by poor attempts at whispered apologies when you knocked over something or bumped against something else.

It made him worry a little.

Sure, you were too enthusiastic for his liking, all optimism and sunshine despite everything that you had gone through—it harshly contrasted with his personality.

But he wouldn't particularly classify you as clumsy.

He waited for you to call for him, anticipating which way you'd say it this time around. Your most recent one was: "O'Hara, O'Hara, let down your floating chair."

You thought you were really funny with that one.

But silence.

No cheeky way of asking him to let you come up.

Where'd you go?

Suddenly, he heard a very annoyed and frustrated groan, prolonged and all dramatic.

Then, that familiar thwip rang in the air.

You couldn't have been more impatient.

He was aware of exactly where you were, shooting your webs in random directions so long as you hit a column that took you higher and higher. But even if he didn't have his enhanced senses, your constant giggling would give you away.

Yet as loud as you had already been, your shriek was even louder.

Miguel didn't hesitate to jump off the platform.

His heart was pounding as he clocked your falling figure, adrenaline and fear all at once.

You looked dazed in your freefall, unable to comprehend that your cartridges were empty as you kept trying to shoot your webs.

In the nick of time, he caught you by the waist—upside down.

He let out a huge sigh of relief at the same time you turned into heaps of giggles.

"This isn't how I imagined us getting into this position," you snorted as if you weren't dangling a couple of feet above the ground, feet in the air, arms limp and swaying. "Wow…your thigh is bigger than my head!"

Miguel's whole body warmed, not only from your comments but also because you were still in your dress.

Thank fuck it wasn't a loose skirt.

Not that he would ever look. He might be a bit of a grump—temperamental at times, he'll admit—but he was still a gentleman.

Though he was glad you couldn't see the obvious fluster on his face given your current upside-down predicament.

He'd never hear the end of it.

"I'm flipping you around," he said.

"Like a pancake?"

He didn't answer. He simply tossed you into the air, your squeal echoing off the walls. He caught you again but the right way up this time—your hands clinging onto his shoulders, legs around his waist.

Miguel tried not to dwell on your closeness as he shot a web and pulled you both back up.

"You flipped me like a pancake!" you giggled, stumbling onto the platform once you reached it.

What on earth is going on with you?

One look in your eyes, his unspoken question was swiftly answered.

"Widely irresponsible to swing while drunk," he reprimanded, arms crossed over his chest.

You blew a raspberry, waving your hand dismissively. "Am not drunk."

"Then why did I have to save you from falling head-first into the ground?"

"I slipped!"

"You could've just called me to let the platform down."

"And have it take so fucking long?"

Miguel blinked.

Oh you were so drunk.

"I know it's an intimidating tactic or whatever the fuck it is you're doing. Either way, it's a choice, but it doesn't have to be so damn slow, Miggy!"

"I told you to stop calling me that," he said, no heat in his tone. He simply couldn't stand the way his heart did a funny thing whenever he'd hear that nickname slip past your lips.

"Sorry, sir," you said, sarcasm lacing each letter.

Miguel took a deep breath.

"Don't call me that, either," he said, voice an octave deeper.

You rolled your eyes, completely oblivious to the effect you had on him. "Someone's extra grumpy today."

"Night."

"What?"

"It's night."

"Pfft, you know, you should loosen up your suit," you said, waving at all of him. "Maybe the tightness is making you grumpier somehow, suffocating your muscles and everything."

"The tightness of my suit has nothing to do with my mood."

"Could've fooled me," you scoffed, glaring at him from head to toe. "You're probably chafing in weird places and it's making you irritable. I bet—no, I know you're naked underneath because even though I haven't seen you naked I can still see…stuff, many stuff, big stuff, you know, imagination and not leaving any and shit."

"Dios mío," he grumbled in disbelief, rubbing a palm over his warm face. "How drunk are you?"

"Zero percent-o, Miguelito."

He bit back a smile.

"Could've fooled me," he said, raising a brow at you.

"Don't you dare throw my words back at me," you warned, attempting to appear threatening with your chest puffed out, chin raised as you got all up in his face. You slumped with a pout a second later. "You are so fucking tall!"

"And you are so drunk."

"M'not!"

"Uh-huh, sure," he hummed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh I am very sure—Miguel, can you sit down," you complained, brows deeply furrowed as you tried grabbing onto his shoulders, urging him to settle on the chair.

He decided to mess with you a little, planting his feet firmly so you weren't able to budge him even with your enhanced strength.

Your inebriated state wasn't helping your case.

It was the first time he ever got to see you annoyed and he actually found it cute. What, with your brows deeply furrowed and that pout in full play, huffing and puffing as you pushed at his chest with your full body strength, how could he not?

"Miggy sit the fuck down!" you growled.

He resisted the urge to laugh, throwing his hands up as he obliged, "Okay, okay, I'm sitting."

Now, he was the one looking up at you.

Yet you still looked frustrated.

"Is that not any better?" he asked, confused.

"No," you mumbled, glaring down at him, pout still prominent.

The next thing he knew, you were already grabbing onto his shoulders, pushing yourself up the chair.

You sat right on his lap.

Miguel was rarely surprised these days, considering what he did for a living.

But he sure as hell wasn't prepared to have you on top of him.

He could almost feel his brain short-circuit, taking a bit more time and effort for it to get its bearings back into place.

But then, you turned shy, eyes blinking at him all wide with shock as if you didn't know that climbing onto his lap resulted in him and you being so close.

"Hi," you whispered.

"Hello," he murmured, fingers twitching to hold you. He gripped the armrest instead. "Can I ask what exactly it is you're doing?"

"What…was I doing?" you questioned, almost to yourself, scanning the nearly non-existent space between you both before your face lit up. "Oh! I'm trying to talk to you without spraining my neck, genius."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah! You try talking to a six-foot-nine Adonis of a man and see if your neck doesn't hurt after a while."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Adonis, huh?"

"Not like that," you quickly said, voice shyer. "I mean like…huge, muscular, a-and plump."

"Plump?"

"Yeah!" You nodded enthusiastically, pressing your palms right on top his chest, one on each pec. "You've got plump boobs and ass."

He almost choked on air.

"What has gotten into you?" he asked, thoroughly amused.

"You, hopefully."

"Diosito, ayúdame," he muttered, resisting the temptation to take your word for it. You were drunk. You had no idea what you were saying.

Miguel shook his head when you stared at him confused, still slow on your Spanish. Then again, he'd only ever taught you a few phrases so far.

"How many lemonades did you have?" he asked instead.

"Why are you asking me so many questions!" you groaned, head thrown back as dramatically as you could. "It's my turn to ask questions!"

"Fine," he sighed, ignoring the urge to nip at your exposed skin. He heavily disregarded the thoughts that brewed in his head from the way you were innocently squirming on him, trying to get more comfortable, your skirt hiking up in the process.

He was good at keeping his composure, mastered it after years. He could do it for a couple of minutes more.

"Why'd you disappear?" you sighed.

"Too bright. Too loud."

"Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

"You were having fun. Didn't want to spoil your mood," he stated the obvious. "Besides, my absence didn't affect anything."

"But it did," you insisted, bottom lip jutting out. "Was gonna ask you to dance."

His brow rose at that. "And what made you think I'll say yes?"

"You always say yes," you said, shrugging as if it was a known fact to the universe.

If it was you asking? Maybe.

He honestly felt a little glad he left the party early. He wouldn't even dare to imagine the outcome if he was seen out on the dance floor with you.

He would much prefer it with no audience—just you and him.

"I don't always say yes."

You narrowed your eyes, obviously not believing him by one bit.

But you didn't bother to argue.

Instead, you plopped forward, arms wrapping around his shoulders, face pressed against his neck.

Miguel froze.

He honestly didn't know what to do with himself.

Well, he wanted to do so many things at once, he just didn't know if he should—too many boundaries, too dangerous to cross.

A battle between logic and emotions.

You chose for him, though.

"Will you just—" You pulled his arms off the armrest, wrapping it around you instead. "Want cuddles, please."

How could he say no?

And for the first time in a long while, Miguel finally let himself go.

Body relaxing into the seat, he pulled you a little closer, palms rubbing soft patterns on your back as he pressed his cheek against the side of your head.

It had been so long since he'd cuddled with someone, so maybe his judgment was a little skewed. But still, he didn't remember it feeling this lovely—not until now.

Or maybe because it was you.

And if he didn't know any better, he'd say you were purring.

"Comfortable?" he hummed, rubbing the tip of his nose against your crown.

You nodded, taking a deep breath, humming soon after, "I've always wondered just how nice you smell up close."

He couldn't stop the flush that crept up his face.

"You're warm," you whispered, rubbing your face against his neck like a cat.

It made him wonder if you'd been hanging around Spider-Cat too much—or Meows Morales.

He'd rather not think about it.

Instead, he commanded his suit to uncover his hands, one less barrier between his palm and your skin. The fabric of your dress did very little to conceal your warmth as he continued giving you comforting rubs.

It made you bury yourself deeper into his arms as if you could go any further.

"This feels nice," you murmured, voice muffled against him.

He hummed in agreement.

You both settled into a comfortable silence after that.

But if he listened closely, the steady thump of your heartbeat was soft against his ears. He found the sound relaxing, and the minuscule romantic part of him imagined it was syncing with his own.

A peaceful rhythm.

Your soft breaths tickled his skin as you snuggled closer, his smile unabashedly painted on his face.

No one was here to see it, anyway.

After a few more moments of calmness, he assumed you'd already fallen asleep. He was already preparing himself to carry you across universes and back home when you suddenly spoke up,

"Can I touch your fangs?"

He blinked.

"What?"

You shifted, pulling back a little so that you could meet his eyes, face so close your noses almost touched.

"Your fangs," you repeated.

Before he could even respond, your hands were already on his face, one thumb lifting the corner of his lip while your other hand found his chin, holding him still.

"Wanna feel how sharp they are," you muttered, opting to use both hands now to pull his lips and expose his canines.

"Very sharp and dangerous," he chuckled despite himself, gently grabbing your wrists to stop your prodding. "Just take my word for it."

"You're pretty when you smile," you said, beaming and proud as if seeing his fangs was an accomplishment.

He rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself from grinning.

You smiled wider in return.

Holding your hands between you both, he absentmindedly started stroking your palms with his thumb.

It guided your gaze toward it.

"Your hands are naked!" you gasped, grabbing his wrists and bringing his fingers up to your face, wonder and awe in your eyes as if it was the first time you'd seen them without cover—it wasn't.

You'd seen him in casual clothes before.

Miguel couldn't stop his laugh from escaping even if he tried.

"I didn't know you could do that!" you said, fully amazed before your brows furrowed, pout coming back. "Why can't my suit do that? I have to get all naked just to feel my fingers."

He didn't dwell on that picture.

"I'll tweak it for you if you'd like," he said instead.

Your whole face brightened.

"Really? You'd do that?" you giddily gasped, bringing his hands up to press your palms against his like a double high five. The way your hand was much smaller than his made his heart warm.

He interlaced your fingers together. "Really."

"We're going to make a suit together!" you laughed, lovely and sweet. "That's a big big step."

He chuckled, gaze carefully tracing your beautiful features, each curve and divot glowing with happiness. He felt tempted to count every perfectly imperfect mark that littered your skin, wanting to know if it was there naturally, or if there was a story behind it.

It was supposed to be a swift glance.

He didn't mean to settle too long on your lips.

Nor did he plan to get caught.

"Stop staring," you whispered shyly.

"You're right in front of my face," he deflected, eyes back on yours.

"I know but…" You trailed off, shifting slightly, the tips of your noses brushing in the process.

"But?" he softly prodded.

"You're looking at me weird."

"How so?"

"Like…" you started, voice dropping into a whisper as if you were disclosing a secret. "You want to kiss me."

He couldn't even bother to deny the truth.

"I'll stop staring," he hummed, words holding no weight as he never removed his eyes from you.

"No!" you protested, turning flustered a second later, shyer when he smirked.

"I thought it was weird?" he teased.

"'Weird' was the wrong word," you said, scrunching your nose in thought. Adorable. "I meant different."

"How different?"

"I don't know," you admitted, leaning a little closer. "But I like it."

"Oh, do you, now?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, hands finding their way to gently cup his cheeks.

Miguel leaned into your touch with a soft smile. "Now who's staring?"

"It's because I want to kiss you," you admitted shamelessly. Your fingers traced the outline of his lips, your eyes following their path.

Miguel kissed your fingertips.

You leaned down and kissed him.

He gasped, eyes wide in shock.

A split second, they fluttered shut, head tilting, whole body melting as he kissed you back.

He spent countless amounts of time daydreaming about this moment, different scenarios, wondering what you tasted like, how it'd make him feel. But fuck—nothing could ever compare to the real thing.

It was so many things all at once.

Relief, hunger, satisfaction, desperation, fondness, fear, mind stopping, heart beating faster, soft lips, warm skin, so lovely, so sweet, so fucking addicting.

Now that he'd gotten a taste, he couldn't get enough.

Miguel cupped the back of your neck, arm snaking around your waist to keep you steady, close.

Your hand held onto his shoulder, the other finding its way into his hair, your fingers combing through the strands.

He lost any sense of control when you pulled.

Gripping your hips, he teased his tongue against the seam of your lips, slipping it in the second you opened up for him.

He groaned at your taste.

You whimpered in response.

The sound made him want to devour you.

But then you started moving your hips.

It was awakening, in more ways than one.

But the rational part of him prevailed because it was for your sake.

He pulled away, gently grabbing your chin, when you tried going back in.

"Slow down," he rasped, holding your waist and keeping you still. "Estás borracho, corazón."

"You know I don't understand," you breathed out, chest heaving, lips all plump and tempting.

"You're drunk, sweetheart," he clarified.

"I don't care," you whined, squirming.

He cupped your face in both hands.

"I do."

You pouted.

"Don't do that."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Don't pout," he sighed.

"I'm not pouting," you denied.

"You are," he said, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip.

Your pout only turned more prominent.

The beep of the clock broke him out of his trance.

It was midnight.

Miguel stood up, taking you with him before gently urging you to stand on your own two feet.

"It’s late. You should go," he said monotonously and stepped back.

You frowned.

He looked away.

"Why do you always do this?"

You were frustrated—no, you were getting angry.

He turned his back on you, eyes on the holograms even though there was nothing worth looking at.

"Do what?" he said, acting oblivious.

"Confuse the fuck out of me," you said, loud with frustration. "You act cold and distant one minute and then you're being nice and sweet the next. You keep your distance but then call me all these cute nicknames sometimes—and yes, you say them in Spanish but I asked Lyla about it once and she told me what they meant."

Traitor—thrown under the bus by his own invention.

"But then sometimes you give in and we get closer but the second I chip your walls you push me away," you continued, getting angrier by the second. "I thought things were getting better between us. But now, you won't even fucking look at me even after we just kissed—"

"You kissed me."

"You kissed me back!" you screamed.

It took him by surprise.

You had never raised your voice, much less yelled at anyone.

But honestly? There was no one else who deserved it more than him.

Slowly turning around, his heart sank when he met your tear-filled eyes.

By instinct, he reached out to try and comfort you.

It only made you angrier.

"You're doing it again!" you growled and stepped back, hands balled into fists.

Miguel stopped, hands up in surrender.

"I'm just trying to protect you," he softly said.

"Protect me?" you scoffed. "Or protect yourself?"

"I'm doing what's best for you," he reasoned, wanting nothing more than to wipe your tears away and kick his own ass for making you cry in the first place.

"You don't know that!"

"Maybe," he said, hands dropping to his sides, dejected. "But I know myself.

"Someone like me shouldn't be with someone as pure and as bright as you."

"No one gets to decide who I should and shouldn't be with," you gritted, taking long strides until you were squaring up to him. "No one but me. That's my choice."

Despite your boiling anger, despite the fact that you were glaring at him in a way that should scare him, despite the absolute animosity that lingered in your voice, your next words couldn't have brought the most opposite reaction from him.

"And I want to be with you."

Happiness, warmth, euphoria—the few things that made his heart burst at the seams.

But Miguel shook his head, eyes dropping to the ground, quickly stomping down emotions.

"I'm only going to end up hurting you," he sighed, pacing back and forth as he rubbed a frustrated hand over his warm face.

"I trust you that you won't."

"Well, you shouldn't," he insisted, eyes filled with longing, wanting to pull you close and taste your lips again despite his words saying otherwise. "You deserve so much better."

"If you believe that so fucking much then be better."

With that, you turned on your heel.

So many things flashed before his eyes, one of which was if he let you walk away now, he was going to lose you, for good.

He fucking panicked.

So much so that he jumped—right over your head.

You squeaked in shock when he landed in front of you.

Miguel didn't waste a second.

He grabbed your face and kissed you senseless.

You stumbled back, Miguel quickly webbing the chair, pulling it just in time for you to land on the cushion.

Not once did his lips leave yours.

He was bending over, hands grabbing the backrest, trapping you against it. You cupped his face, a shiver running down his spine when you trailed your hands down his chest.

But then you gently pushed him back.

He ignored the ache in his heart as he pulled away.

Miguel dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your hands in his, placing a kiss on each palm before he pressed it against his cheeks.

"I want to be with you so badly," he confessed, eyes never leaving yours so you could see it—all of him at your mercy.

"But I'm scared," he whispered, leaning into your touch. "I'm terrified that all I'll ever do is fail you, that I will never end up being the man that you deserve."

"How would you know if you won't try?" you said, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones with the sweetest smile. "And I know you think otherwise, but you deserve to be happy, too."

Miguel didn't know what to say.

So he didn't.

He kissed you instead.

It was slow, reassuring, a soft touch of your lips on his, but never less passionate.

He would've opted to deepen it a little more, but then you downright yawned between the kiss.

And here he thought you couldn't get cuter.

"You need sleep," he chuckled.

"I don't wanna go home," you grumbled, burying yourself into his chest. "It's too far."

"My room, then?" he offered.

You quickly nodded. He could almost feel you grinning against his suit.

He kissed your forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Bed?" you gasped, emerging out of your hiding spot to wriggle your brows at him teasingly. "Gosh, take me out to dinner first."

"What am I going to do with you," he grumbled, shaking his head

"Many things, I hope."

He rolled his eyes, pressing the button to let the platform down.

"Miggy, can you give me a piggyback ride?" you asked, pouting for good measure. "I'm tired."

He sighed, turned around and crouched down.

"He doesn't always say yes he said," you giggled.

"Are you getting on or not?"

"Okay, okay, geez." You grabbed his shoulders and hoisted yourself on his back, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. Cheek pressed against his shoulder, you grinned. "Always eager to have me ride you, huh?"

His face warmed.

"I'll drop you if you won't stop."

"No you won't."

Miguel loosened his grip.

You yelped, quickly tightening your hold around him.

"You're so mean!"

He chuckled, turning his head as much as he could and puckering up his lips.

You giggled as you gave him a chaste kiss, pressing your cheek in between his shoulder blades with a deep sigh.

"Lyla, please send extra blankets and pillows to my quarters," he said, smiling to himself when you suddenly got heavier on his back.

He was sure you'd already fallen asleep.

Lyla appeared in front of him a second later, her grin far too wide for his liking.

"Not a single word about this to anyone," he interrupted whatever it was she was starting to say. "Please. Just…give us time to figure this out."

"Gotcha, boss," she said. "But for the record, I'm doing it for her."

"Good."

•••

You squinted at the bright glare that roused you from your sleep. You always close the curtains, it was part of your nightly routine. Why did you forget it this time?

Sitting up, you flopped back down with a deep groan.

Your head was pounding.

Hungover.

You didn't miss this part of drinking at all.

After a few moments, you slowly opened your eyes, the ceiling looking too unfamiliar.

Glancing down, the color of the sheets wasn't the sky blue you recently changed it into. As a matter of fact, that bed was much bigger than you were used to.

This wasn't your room.

In fact, this wasn't your world.

"What did I do?" you whispered, glancing at the nightstand. You saw the tall glass of water first, then the few pills of aspirin.

It was the framed picture that made you realize where you were.

This was Miguel's room.

Memories from last night came rushing in like a train, using your brain as railroad tracks which made your headache worse.

You quickly gulped down the water and meds, throwing the blankets off of you only to flush at the discovery.

Boxer shorts and a huge jacket—you were wearing his clothes.

Stumbling into the en suite, your heart warmed at the extra toothbrush that was already waiting for you.

You quickly made yourself as presentable as possible before making your way to the only place you knew he would be at this time of day.

First to clock in, last to clock out.

The platform was already down when you got there.

It was as if he was waiting for you.

"Morning, sleepy head," Miguel greeted without looking away from the screens.

"Good morning," you responded shyly. You picked at the hem of his jacket, second-guessing your choice of not changing out of it.

You honestly didn't know where to even begin.

As if sensing your discomfort, he turned his chair to face you.

Something flashed in his eyes for a brief moment, something primal as he regarded your figure. It was gone the next second you might as well have imagined it.

"Come here," he murmured, reaching out both hands for you to take.

Walking over to him, you slipped your hands into his, the platform beginning its ascend once you did.

You gasped in surprise when he suddenly pulled you onto his lap.

He placed your hands on his shoulders, his strong fingers curling around your waist.

You couldn't look him far too long in the eyes.

It felt like you'd combust if you did.

"What, now you're shy?" he teased, smirking freely. It was a good improvement, but you didn't know if your heart could take it having him smile at you like that. "You didn't seem to have a problem with this last night."

"Don't remind me," you groaned, hiding your face between your hands.

Miguel chuckled.

God this was so new.

It felt like you were drunk all over again—no sense of what was real and what was all in your head.

But with the soft squeeze on your waist, and the gentle fingers circling around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face, you knew this was as real as it was going to get.

"What else do you remember?" he asked, thumbs drawing random shapes on the insides of your wrist.

You scrunched up your face. "Everything?"

He hummed, leaning a little closer to nudge the tip of your nose with his, urging you to keep your eyes on him.

"I have no idea how to do this…relationship thing. It's been a while," he started, a faint blush on his cheeks that made him so much more endearing. "But I'm willing to try this—with you."

Your heart grew ten times its size, you were sure of it.

"Yeah?"

He nodded, kissing your knuckles. "If you'll let me."

"We'll figure it out together," you said, holding his face in your hands with a smile.

"I'd like that," he whispered, grin turning cheeky. "On one condition."

"What?" Your brows furrowed.

"Morning kisses are mandatory."

You let out a hearty laugh, sound quick to turn into giggles when Miguel pressed his lips against yours.

It didn't take long for things to get heated.

You were picking up right where you left off last night, a little further given that alcohol wasn't in the equation anymore.

Yet with the way Miguel's hands were roaming your body, grabbing and groping whatever he could reach, tongue hot and heavy as it slipped past your lips, his deep groans vibrating against your palms as you rested it on his chest, his kisses moving their way onto the warm skin on your neck, softly nipping, tongue soothing—it was far more dizzying than any modified alcohol and then some.

It was a familiar voice that broke you off this time.

"Ahem! Uh, hello, I'm here!" It echoed from below. "The baby, too, by the way. So make sure you're…uhm, decent when you bring that thing down."

Miguel pulled away with an annoyed groan, eyes landing on the floating figure that appeared behind you.

If he could kill Lyla with one look—

"What?" she exclaimed. "I didn't say anything!"

"She didn't! You guys just weren't particularly…quiet," Peter B. defended on her behalf, chuckling. "And this place has the worst echo."

"Yeah, that's your fault," you whispered against his lips, pecking him one last time before getting off his lap.

He wasn't particularly happy about that either.

You pushed the button before he could say anything, the platform descending, smiling at him all innocent.

"I'm not done with you," he warned, voice deep with lust it made your whole body tingle.

"I'm counting on it." You winked, hopping off the platform before he could even respond.

Mayday landed in your arms before you could take a step.

"Hi, beautiful girl!" you greeted cheerfully, her chubby cheeks lifting as she giggled at you. "

"I wouldn't rush it," you heard Peter say.

"What?" Miguel gritted, still so annoyed.

"I know you're thinking about having a baby with her."

You bit back a laugh.

The utter silence from Miguel made it so much harder.

"You know nothing," he grumbled.

"Maybe," Peter chuckled, patting him on the back. "About time you made your move though."

Miguel grumbled something incoherent and turned back towards the screen.

Still, you caught the smile he was trying to hide.

It made you warm and fuzzy inside.

You walked over to him with Mayday in your arms. "Say hi to Uncle Miggy!"

Always your best accomplice, Mayday made grabby hands at him, blubbering, "Middy! Middy!"

Miguel sighed, carefully taking Mayday from you, before giving her a soft smile—the only other person he wasn't grumpy to. "Hello, peanut."

She giggled in response, climbing onto his shoulders, settling on them with her arms above his head. She always loved being so tall.

Miguel shot you a glare then, no heat to it at all. If anything, it was filled with pure fondness.

You grinned at him.

"You're a bad influence," he whispered to you.

"I don't think I am, Middy," you teased, standing on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his lips.

The way he suddenly turned flustered was adorable.

And when Mayday made a yucky sound, and Peter B. laughed, you knew your work of teasing him for the day was done.

"Come on, bub, let's go get you ice cream," you called, the little girl giggling in delight before jumping into your arms. You sent Miguel a wink before leaving him to deal with his beloved friend's teasing. Peter was practically waiting for this moment.

Many people regretted what they had done while drunk, especially when it involved something embarrassing.

Not you.

You regret nothing at all.

✫*｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[yuriisclumsy]

Sending in a request for a Genshin or Lout fic! I’ll give you a few prompts you can choose from (you only need to pick one) and write a fic for who you think suits it best!

intuition, obvious, (il)logic, test, levity

((thank you so much and no rush!!)) - @paimonial-rage

Intuition

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2058

[Authors Note]: OMG I'm so sorry guys for the late update! Something went wrong and now is now I figured it out. So here you go! It took me a while to figure this one out, but I managed to get something going. This is a gift for another blog, @paimonial-rage! They do Genshin requests (fanfiction with reader insert) for anyone interested.

»»►Cale has an intuition that [Name] is in danger.

»»►...

»»►What?

»»►That’s all I’m telling you, no spoilers for you!

The high walls of the Roan Kindom’s palace stood the testament of war being waged at its firmament. It had been many a time someone dared to destroy it, but none came close to achieving their goal.

Not when there was a great commander in charge.

In one of the many rooms withholding secrets never to shed light to the world in the palace, stood two esteemed figures; one, bearing the crown, the other, his most trusted friend and sworn-brother.

“Cale, Cale, what will I be without you?” The ever-loved crown prince–now king–asked.

“You’d still be a crown prince fighting to retain the crown, Alberu,” Cale sipped his tea nonchalantly, ignoring the unamused face he was getting.

Alberu sighs from the otherwise boring reaction. “Even after all this time, you’re still trying to piss me off. And here I thought that perhaps marrying that  girl would make you more sensible.”

“Then you guessed wrong, my king,” Cale slightly vowed.

“Stop that.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he gave a polite smile.

Alberu shook his head and let out another sigh. This won’t stop until Cale won, so it was simpler to just surrender. “How is married life going for you?” He took his tea and blew to calm it.

“It's actually going well,” Cale responded, thinking back on his experience so far.

He got married a while ago, two months ago, to be precise. It had been slow, sharing the same room with someone, but they had adjusted just fine ...aside from the fact that his wife moves a bit too much when she sleeps. Cale learned to either build a fortress of pillows that separated them or hug her the whole night–though this option comes with sweat greeting them the next morning.

“I’m still not used to her being in my—our room,” he corrected himself. “And when will you get a wife, huh? Don’t you think the kingdom deserves a queen?”

Alberu threw daggers at him mentally, hoping he’d drop dead where he stood. “Haha…funny.” He placed the cup down on the table where the saucer was. “Although…it would be nice to have someone to share my troubles with,” he looked Cale in the eyes when saying that.

Liar. You want me to ask so I can fix your messes, Cale thought, internally scuffing at the man.

He put in his diplomatic smile. “Oh, but your highness. You always can share your concerns with me, your most loyal subject. I can assure you that even the future queen would agree with me.”

“Ha! You’re a bastard through and through,” Alberu crossed his arms in amusement.

Yeah, right. The only bastard here is you—! Cale’s cup fell lento, as if time had slowed down entirely.

Alberu’s eyes widened in surprise, “Cale, are you okay?” He stared at Cale to see if it was another of his antics but he looked completely still, with his face growing paler by the second. The king shot up thinking of the worst. “Damn it! Is it poison?!” He checked the teapot for any unusual smells.

“No, no,” Cale patted the king, who by now was by his side, to calm down. “I just…had a shiver run down my spine.”

His sworn brother remained silent for a short moment, and then his mouth opened. “If it were a mare shiver, you wouldn't have reacted like that. Cale, I know you. And the you, I know, doesn’t fear much.” He grabbed Cale by the arms, “now tell me, what made you react in such a way?”

“...” Cale looked at him and then at the floor, unsure of what to tell him.

“Cale…” Alberu shook him a little, firming his hold a bit more, to show that he was there if it were something bad.

“*sigh*...I got this feeling…” he paused, inhaling grimly, “that something bad is going to happen to [Name]. But, it’s just a feeling. It’s probably my overthinking, you needn't worry about it.”

Alberu was at a loss for words. Yes, with fame and power, came great danger. But he didn’t think that his friend–his brother-in-arms–would be so unworried for a thought like that.

No… He was more worried about it than he let on.

He released his hold on Cale, straightening himself.

“Alberu?” Cale looked up from the loss of pressure, “did something happen?”

“...You need to go,” he said.

“What?”

“You need to go,” he repeated.

Cale could only stare, not sure why he was saying that. “But…why?” He looked like a small child who had lost their mother in the market and was asking for help from a stranger with a sad look on their face.

“Oh, for heaven's sake…” Alberu’s hands clutched themselves to Cale’s coat, “damn it, you dense donkey! You had a thought about your wife being hurt, you need to go, and make sure she’s in perfect shape like the good husband you are!!"

At this point some of the knights were hearing the commotion inside but dared not intrude on the scolding from a mother to their child, it brought trauma none of them wished to relive.

“So you will stand up,” he brought Cale to his feet, “and go to your wife!!”

And that’s how Cale Henituse, the great commander of the Roan Kingdom, was promptly kicked out and banned from entering the castle until the king received notice of his wife’s safety.

Cale gawked at the castle for a few minutes after that. He looked like a fish out of the water: stupid.

He sighed out of his daze. “Ron?” He turned to his butler who accompanied him on his trip.

“Yes, young master?” Ron vowed.

“Get me home as fast as you can,” he ordered as he opened the carriage doors and climbed in, shutting the door in the process.

“As you wish, Master Cale,” Ron got up to the carriage’s coachman seat. Taking the leach of the horses, he made a swift movement, and the horses were galloping towards the exit.

The path home was peaceful. Yes, there were a few pours here and there, but that was only for a bit. What could not find rest, was the man inside the carriage.

He fidgeted sporadically, his leg went up and down in impatience, and his eyes fixated on the outside where they could see the slightest glance of his territory's walls. Anything that could calm his unease.

I should have brought Raun with me, or a magic item that could teleport me back faster. He thought of all the things he could have done to fasten the transportation to his manor.

The sight of walls and a flag in the distance made Cale happy.

Home. Alas, he was closer to his wife.

The carriage passed the high gates of the city, not needing to check inside for threats when the man who had saved them plenty of times was inside. The knights saluted as he entered.

Arriving at the manor, he dismounted the carriage walking to the entrance. A few servants waited right outside the door, vowing to greet their master. He stopped just as he passed the doors, making his two trusted butlers look at him: one in worry, and the other in amusement.

“Master Cale?” Hans called. “Is something the matter?”

“...Ron,” he said his butler's name without looking back.

“Yes, Master Cale?”

“Can you do me a favor, and go hunting for a few loud quails?” He said.

Ron smirked. “As you wish, Master Cale,” he vowed before turning and leaving the manor.

“Quails?” Hans asked, “But we already have plenty of them.” His eyes widened, “please don’t tell me what I think that is referring to…”

Cale continued to the gardens where he knew his wife would be. “Don’t worry about Hans. You’re not the one getting their hands dirty with animal feathers,” he said with a smile.

“Please don’t smile when you say that…” he looked nauseous.

…

The wind blew swiping and budging any object its strength could move. The wind chime followed the rhyme of the calm breeze as it passed through. Soft humming that sounded like they belonged to a fairy filled the air of the manor’s garden. It came from the lady of the house; a beautiful and delicate flower, who married the lout son of the family.

She lowered herself to be a few inches from the bed of flowers planted for her by her husband's wishes;.He planted them for her happiness; she loved flowers as much as she loved him. 

Her hands lifted a white tulip, her eyes observed its color and physique. “You have grown from the last time I saw you,” she songily whispered. “Cale would be happy to see you like this.”

People often gossiped how, in their eyes, she took care of the plants like if they were her children. Yet, they know not that these small greeneries are as alive as any other living creature. They can call her crazy all they want, for she already found someone that loves her. Even if he did find this fixation of hers a little odd.

“Happy to see who?” a voice asked from behind.

Her head turned to see who it was that questioned her, but her smile made it clear that she knew who it was that asked.

“Cale,” she said his name, love surrounded his name. She stood up to greet her one and only husband. “You’re back so soon, I thought you said you would be in the capital for 10 days.”

“Something came up for the king, so I decided to come back,” Cale embraced her warmth. She smelled like the flowers she loved.

She returned the hug by wrapping her arms around him, “you missed me that much?”

“Shut up,” he scuffed and let go of her.

She giggled in response. “Hehehe, didn’t you though?” her eyes met his, “you missed your wife so much, that you came running here.”

“As if. I had no other business in the capital other than meeting with his majesty.” Excuses. His wife could tell. He might think that he's not that easy to read, but for her, he was like a poster in a billboard right in the public's eyes.

“Sure, sure…I believe you.”

“No, you don’t, [Name].”

“Yes I do!” She pouted.

“Master Cale,” Ron made himself known as he walked towards them.

“Ron!” [Name] ran to the old butler. “Ron, won’t you agree that Cale came back so quickly because he loved his wife so much, he couldn't spend a single day more in the capital?” She asked, dramatizing the whole thing to embarrass her husband.

Ron had the smile only a demon could have when they had their enemies greatest weakness.

“Don’t you dare,” Cale warned.

“Oh, but I must agree with Lady [Name],” he closed his eyes, “The young master whined the whole way here. “Oh, how I wish I was next to my wife. My sweet, and beautiful, [Name]...”” Ron was mocking him. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Damned old man…

“I see, I see…” she nodded along. She was enjoying this far too much.

“Okay, that’s it,” he stepped towards them and grabbed her by the arm, “we’re leaving.”

“Awe, if you wanted to have me all to yourself you can always ask,” [Name] placed a hand on her check, cooing at Cale.

“Why did I marry you?”

“Because you love me!” She gave him the happiest smile she had; the same one she had on their wedding day; the same one she had when he asked her to marry him; the same one she had when he pronounced his love. It was her normal smile.

“...” Cale had a blush on his face. He caught the smug smile from Ron, and that just made him instantly frown, ruining the beautiful moment. “Let's go,” He continued to pull her along. She giggled at his antics.

“Oh, Ron?” he halted.

He smiled, “Yes, young master?”

“Did you finish your hunt?”

Ron’s smile widened. “Yes. We’ll be having 6 quails for dinner.”

“Great,” he resumed his pace.

“Wait, I thought it was beef for dinner today.”

“That too.”

“???”

Fin

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[kagamesayu]

more on...

shidou who hates leaving bimbo!reader's side.

c/w . implied female reader, implied smut, fluff, angst ??, possessive shidou wc: 1 k a/n . ngl this took forever and it's cause it ESCAPED me oh my... it might get messy at some point and i am SO SORRY . also im slowly becoming a shidou x bimbo!reader blog this is crazy, they're just so fun to write ugh reblogs and comments appreciated ✧*.

from my shidou x bimbo!reader pt 2

it's already a problem when you have to leave to go grocery shopping or anything of the like. he tries to find every excuse under the sun to go with you, even if he doesn't have to and you live right beside a convenience store.

"ryu baby i just need to go out and get that tiktok hair mask! you don't have to come-"

"yeah yeah shut yer trap doll i'm comin'. what if my baby needs a big strong guy to help her take her things?" he flexes his muscles, smirking as you gulp.

and you're too sweet and dumb to remember that you only need to get one thing, lowkey wanting shidou to be with you cause you always forget what you wanted to buy.

"mm...but i don't wanna waste your time ryu..."

"what if ya chip a nail-"

"omg you're so right! thank you baby, you're the best!"

he'll insist on going with you and it's all fun and games until he thinks someone's looking at your cute sequence miniskirt or your tight Barbie tanktop too long.

seems like some people can't take the hint - even with his arm snaked around your waist. one thing leads to another and he's in a fight for your honour, grinning madly and thoroughly fucking up the person staring you down.

because of his reactions you tend to sneak out and get the things really quickly - this doesn't usually work out though cause shidou always has tabs on you. he's obsessed after all!

this always ens with you getting a 'punishment' which can range from having to sit on his lap and feed him grapes to letting him have all the fun he wants with you.

if you get what i'm saying ;)

it's even worse when he has to leave you for a whole different country. he regularly goes overseas for matches and you almost always go with him.

but your scatter brained self will forget the dates and there are times you can't go with him because you forgot to take the days off.

and when he finds out he's so, so sad - never mad because he never gets mad at you. loves you too much.

"doll~ oh my cute, dumb baby doll~!" he squishes your face till your lips pucker, making you look at him as he pouts at you. "why'd ya gotta hurt me like this baby~?"

"didn't mean to ryu!" your speech is muffled, fingers wrapping around the wrist of the hand holding you hostage. "forgot..."

he sighs exaggeratedly before pecking your pouted lips, pulling away with a grin. "it's okay baby. it's ok," he sounds like he's saying that for himself. "just spend all yer time with me now, kay?"

as the days creep by, he becomes much more clingy. he becomes more quick to anger on the field, scoring much more and becoming so much more aggressive in his plays.

he never brings that energy home though, he treats his baby doll with so much care, he wouldn't dare make them cry.

he only brings that drive with him into the bedroom 🥵

you've been trying to make up for your mistake by pampering him more. leaving more lipstick kisses on his face and neck and making more beaded bracelets. you'd even made him an altoid wallet with polaroid pics of you two!

not gonna say he cried when he saw this but....

you pack some pink bandaids and hair clips in his luggage, and even let him take your favourite stuffed rabbit.

"please look after mr hannah montana! he can't have gluten and seafood and he hates the colour green so please don't put him in green clothes."

"okay baby-"

"and he also needs his fluff brushed in the morning!"

"yes-"

"and he hates being in a luggage so you have to hold him in your arms!"

"anythin' for you doll~"

and when that fated day arrives he gets so, so obnoxiously clingy. singing 'i love you's and 'i'll miss you's as he hangs off your shoulders, arms snaked around you. it was like he was trying to be a part of you.

he was :) he always wants to be inside you, sexually or not

he holds you like you're his lifeline. kisses you like it's your last.

you're both in the airport, a hand holding his duffle bag, the other holding yours, mr hannah montana in your arm as you try your darn hardest not to cry. your nails are digging into shidou's hands but he doesn't say anything.

he needs to feel you clinging to him. needs to feel you need him. cause he won't be able to have you for a week and he thinks he might die thinking about it.

who's gonna kiss his 'boo boo's when he gets into fights? who's gonna paint his nails and blow dry his hair while talking about what happened at work?

who's he gonna kiss and hug and fuck?

fuck, he's going to die.

"ryu..." your whiny tearful voice breaks him from his thoughts, his grip tightening around your hand. "gonna miss you so much-!"

your mascara falls with your tears, jaw quivering as the time for his flight comes closer and closer.

"oh doll." his coo makes you pause, his hand let's go of yours only to come up to your cheek. "'m gonna call ya everyday and yer gonna send me pictures everyday, right?"

"yeah..."

"and ya got that pile of clothes in case ya get lonely?"

"course!"

"good. i'll be back so fuckin' fast baby you won't even have time to miss me~" his handsome smirk is splayed on his face, "and don't forget," he leans in close and kisses you passionately, tongue sneaking in your mouth as his hand moves to hold your throat.

when you pull away, you're breathless, panting and gasping air greedily, a string of spit connecting your lips. you don't even think about the fact that you're in an airport with his teamates staring at the two of you. you can't think about anything other than shidou ryusei.

"'m yours and yer mine, no matter where i go."

[screamingcrows]

A Good Night's Sleep (part 2) - Zandik x Reader

Author's note: Feed this to an AI algorithm and I'm giving you Clostridium difficile. Also fuck this. This is nowhere close to what I wanted, so now I'm throwing it out so it won't leer at me from my wips. Maybe I'll come back once I get over my subconscious aversion to writing smut. 1.8k words Warnings/tags: dubcon, but not how you think, dry humping, blood (very little), fem reader, tigers have barbed penises, earlier somnophilia, panic, coercion, they're both something, suggestive, nsfw, zandik is stuck in his head Part 1 MINORS, AGELESS, AND BLANK BLOGS DNI - you will be blocked on sight

"Go back to sleep"

There was a slight crack his voice despite Zandik's best effort to keep it even. He had already moved away from you, shaking his hands in the air, trying desperately to rid himself of the unpleasant sensations.

His palms tingled, caressing the ghost of your skin with every frantic movement. For the third time in his life there was nothing in his mind. It made him want to rip his hair out.

You were turning around.

Something had to be done to make you stop, he wouldn't look at you. Moving in tandem, he rolled onto his other side. The front of his boxers was wet. An urge to scream scratched at the back of his throat.

"Zandik? I- I asked you a question…"

Her voice felt like syrup, flowing into his ears. Thick, disgusting, alluring. The light sniffles were filtered out by his mind, as was the way her breaths became increasingly erratic. It felt vile, being an insect writhing on silken strands was not something that suited him.

Zandik recoiled when your fingers dug into his shoulder, you shouldn't be reaching out for him. He shuffled further towards the other side of his mattress. A calm mind to handle this, that's what was needed, and nothing about you trying to turn him around was calming. Although his mind had cleared significantly, there was still a bothersome ache in his body.

"And I said go back to sleep," he'd snapped the words at you before he could stop it.

Everything felt awful when he pushed off to stand, blanket sliding into a pile. His back was towards you when he clambered out under the net, stomping barefoot away from your little camp. Under normal circumstances he would've scoffed at anyone doing the same, if was unsafe and a blatant overreaction.

That didn't matter. Not when he could feel the sticky substance sliding down his abdomen. How it made the fabric cling to his skin. Worst of all was the smell of his own release. Even while covering his mouth and nose with a hand, he could detect those musky notes.

It made him gag, crumpling into the underbrush as he fought back the urge to empty the contents of his stomach. Morbid curiosity bid his free hand to ghost over his crotch, body jerking when he felt the wet patch. Even worse was the fact that he was still-

He shook his head, uncaring that his head still swam and any jostling came with a risk. A clear mind, that was the least he could supply. Soft sounds of running water caught his attention. Perfect.

It was closer than he'd dared to hope. Half tumbling down a small hill before he found himself on his knees. The water had already been disturbed by his movements, if there were predators, stealth was no longer an option.

The least he could do was practice restraint this time. Being found half naked, mauled in a stream was far from the legacy he desired. After what felt like an eternity of bated breaths, eyes flickering around the dark forest, Zandik dared to relax a little. If a spinocrocodile or worse had been nearby, it would've already struck by now.

Cleaning himself took longer than what was reasonable, but the cool water helped to soothe the prickling under his skin. Thoughts of you were kept at bay by his shivering, and every tantalizing memory that did make it through those defenses was quickly decimated with a simple look at the consequences in his hands.

Failure was a ruthless teacher.

His hands remained submerged in water, fingertips slowly going numb. Slivers of moonlight crept through the canopies above. There was something twisted in how gently it caressed his features when his head tilted back. Why would it shine so lovingly on him now?

Perhaps playing your preordained part was the only way to be accepted by them.

Walking back turned out to be more difficult than expected, feet dragging along the ground being a particular nuisance when paired with less than optimal lighting conditions.

How was he going to explain that he was naked? The thought of stumbling into someone else on the short walk back briefly flashed through his head, but that was a thought he would not entertain. Not until faced with that reality at least. And what would he say when you undoubtedly kept pestering him with questions?

There was no doubt that he had to go back, you still had things to complete the following day. And returning to the Akademiya alone would be folly, not when everyone knew you'd left together.

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, briefly flinching from the cold touch. How was he supposed to deny what you would've pieced together in an instant if you were properly awake. Convincing you it had been a figment of your own imagination was undoubtedly the best course of action. If only there were dreams to blame.

Conveniently, your back was turned towards the direction he emerged from. Carefully maneuvering back to his mat, he swiftly looked through the modest bag he'd brought, desperate for something to cover himself with after forsaking his clothes in the water. A waste, but one he couldn't bring himself to care about. Especially not when his focus was broken by you moving a little.

With rising adrenaline, he swiftly lay down, struggling to pull the blanket over himself without alerting you. Clean boxers gripped tightly in his hand, he waits with bated breath for what feels like an eternity, accompanied only by your soft breaths and the ringing in his ears.

When you hadn't moved for a while he took the chance to shuffle around a bit, intent on finally getting dressed again and forget this ordeal.

"You know," your soft voice caused his breath to hitch, the silence deafening before you continued, "you could've just asked me…"

He lay frozen, leg raised off the ground, boxers halfway on as he considered if acknowledging your statement would doom his set course of action. Before he could finish the thought, you continued, uncharacteristically certain with your words.

"I'm at least guessing it wasn't an accident?"

"I simply needed some air and got up. It's none of your concern," he found himself struggling to remain cordial.

Why couldn't you just leave him be?

He heard your little huff, could almost see the way you were no doubt leering at him, deep eyes narrowed in frustration. It was infuriating how quickly you flooded his mind again, the clear water of the stream having done nothing to wash away those urges.

"Why can't you just admit to it? I know that was cum on my back, Zandik. I'm not stupid."

"Good, then you'll have no trouble understanding when I tell you to stop bothering me and go back to sleep."

Admittedly, the words came out harsher than intended, but the longer you remained awake, the more difficult it would be to write all this off as a drowsy delusion.

When his eyes finally closed, everything finally began to feel better. The ordeal had even made a comfortable weariness settle behind his eyes.

It took mere minutes before his rest was disturbed by a weight against him. He turned onto his back, wanting nothing more than look at the stars and scream. Instead he was met with your face hovering above him.

You adjusted your body, straddling his hips as you straightened your back. His eyes were wide, following the lines of your body, seeing the light bruising that had bloomed from his touch. Shame burned in his blood, not from the action but the confrontation that he hadn't been nearly as restrained as he thought.

He took a deep breath, tensing when your hands pushed down on his shoulders.

"Get off"

"Why? Isn't this what you wanted?"

He had to grit his teeth when you rolled your hips, keenly aware of the blood gathering down there. It didn't help how warm you felt against him.

"I said, get off"

You shot him a glare, nails digging into his shoulders a little. He knew the look in your eyes. You were plotting something, and if he wasn't struggling to keep his focus away from your lips, he might have been able to prepare.

The relief that entered him when you leaned forward was palpable, trapped in the mindset that you would climb back down. Instead your warm tongue pressed against his pulse, dragging up the column of his neck. It made him groan, hands shooting up and grabbing your waist in an instant to stop your movements.

That was a mistake. Once more feeling your softness had his mind reeling, and he didn't miss how sighed in satisfaction when his grip tightened. Your breath wafted against his ear, close enough that he could almost feel your soft lips against his skin.

"But I want to do this with you"

Something in your voice made him shiver, stoking the embers of an unknown force. It made him briefly pause, and that was apparently all the opportunity you needed. He doesn't have time to react before you've pulled the blanket out from between your bodies.

You're practically laying atop him, the feeling not nearly as restrictive as feared. Eyes fluttering at the odd comfort it provided.

"How are you-" his voice falters, nothing but static in his mind for a moment. "How can you enjoy this?"

Bubbling laughter ringing through the darkness is all the answer he gets, swiftly accompanied by the press of lips against his collarbone. He writhed at the feeling, obtrusive and much too intimate. Would you rip out his throat if given the chance? Would he?

His fingers were sneaking under the hem of your shirt, discovering with dismay that the fabric had a moist spot at the very bottom… You hadn't changed. Repulsive.

He has to yank your hair for your lips leave the bruise they'd been carefully nurturing. Your expression reminds him of predator moments before it strikes, and he can only scold himself for not recognizing that of course the intensity he respected would bleed into every aspect of your being.

"Stay with me."

A groan is ripped from his throat when you bite down at the junction of his neck, one of your hands tugging at his hair. Tentatively, his fingers run along the curvature of your spine, feeling how you arched for him. Warmth spread through his body with every kiss and lick to the column of his neck, barely noticing how you were grinding against him.

It did feel good, he wasn't blind to how his cock throbbed from the stimuli. But that was nothing compared to the feeling of your back splitting open under his nails, nor were the whines spilling from your lips.

[keeplcving]

Hii I’ve been waiting for a blog I like to ask and I really adore your writing!!

I keep thinking about coriolanus x reader set before the reaping and the reader is being sent to the districts (maybe as a punishment from the plinths for “filling sejanus’ head with rebel ideas” or smth) but anything works!! 🩷

awe, thank you so much, sweet anon! i am honored :). i hope i understood what you wanted, and wrote it to your standards. enjoy, xoxo.

dark paradise.

(academy!coriolanus x fem!reader)

summary: she may be a rebel at heart, but only one man can tame her.

cw: discussion of arranged marriage, sweet!coryo (i love writing him like that i’m sorry!), soft sex, oral (m receiving), cuddling, pet names, talking bad about the plinths, lmk if i missed anything.

“Me? To District Two? Why? What did I do?” You interrogate the peacekeeper who had pulled you out class, mid lesson.

“Orders of a Mr. Strabo Plinth. Says here you ‘filled my son’s head of anti-Capitol propaganda’. Enough grounds to see you removed from the Capitol, I believe.”

You couldn’t believe it. You hadn’t told Sejanus anything he didn’t already believe, you merely agreed with him. The Hunger Games were awful, and cruel. You knew enough about the world before Panem, and that in the country that existed before Panem, cruel and unusual punishment was against the country’s rules. Why wouldn’t that be the case in Panem?

“What? No I didn’t! Please, believe me.” You begged, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. You couldn’t leave the Capitol, it was your home, and had been your family’s home for years. You couldn't move to the districts, you wouldn't survive.

Your family had more than enough money and influence, but not as much as the Plinths. At this moment, you regretted befriending Sejanus. Sure, he was a sweet boy, but now his father was using you as a scapegoat to explain his son's inability to conform to Capitol standards and beliefs. All for simply agreeing with one of Sej's opinions.

You thought, for a moment, that this was it. You would never see the Capitol, or anyone in it, ever again, for the crime of having an opinion. You were a top student at the academy, set to be in the running for the Plinth Prize. How could they just kick you out of your home? You felt faint, overwhelmed with emotions, unsure of what to do, or even how to react.

"What's going on?" A voice interrupts your thoughts, and you let out a sigh of relief in recognition of the voice. Coriolanus Snow. He could get you out of this, he could easily explain that Sejanus was the rebel, not you. His family had more power and influence than the Plinths did, as they weren't from the districts.

"Miss Y/L/N here is about to be transported to District Two. She's a rebel. She's been filling Sejanus Plinth's head with anti-Capitol ideals, which Strabo isn't very pleased with. His son was supposed to make the Capitol his home, not turn against it." The peacekeeper explained to Coriolanus, and Coriolanus looked like he was in utter disbelief.

"Y/N?" Coriolanus spat out, "A rebel? Unlikely. If anybody is filling anyone's head with anti-Capitol ideals, it's Sejanus. Not Y/N." He states to the peacekeeper, hoping that he will believe the heir of the mighty house of Snow over district scum. The Plinths would never be Capitol, not really.

"Is that so?" The peacekeeper responds, "How is Miss Y/L/N not a rebel? Is there anything tying her to the Capitol, other than her family? Has she agreed to be married into a family of status?"

You couldn't believe that simply agreeing to be married into a family of status could keep you in the Capitol. That really couldn't prove anything, right?

"Yes, she is set to be married to me, upon our graduation from the Academy." You almost gasped in shock, not thinking that Coriolanus would come to your defense, lying for you in order to keep you in the Capitol. You held the gasp in though, and simply nodded your head.

"I am in love with him, sir. I wouldn't dare leave the Capitol, or say anything negative about it, when I have a man like Coriolanus to continue to show me the good that lies in the Capitol." You explain, stepping back to stand side by side with Coriolanus. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side, rubbing his fingers soothingly on your side.

"How could you insinuate that my future wife is anti-Capitol? That is simply preposterous." Snow spits out, rolling his eyes before continuing, "I would never marry a woman that was anti-Capitol. I wouldn't taint my future heir's blood with someone that stood against everything that I believe in. This is absurd."

Coriolanus made a very strong case for you, leaving very little room for the peacekeeper to argue. You knew you had to go along with his lie, and keep up the act, in order to save your place in Capitol society. You lean up, and press a light kiss to Coriolanus' cheek, smiling sweetly once you pull away.

"I see, I will relay this information to my superiors. In the mean time, Miss Y/L/N is to stay at your manor, Mister Snow. There will be a trial, you will be called to testify on Miss Y/L/N's character, and her personal ties to you. I am going to dismiss you both from classes for the rest of the day, and I will be by tomorrow to collect you both." The peacekeeper grunts, turning on his heel, leaving you and Coriolanus standing in the empty hallway.

"I cannot believe you would lie for me like that, Snow." You whisper to him, and he grins at you.

"Well, Y/N, I have always had an infatuation with you, as you know," You roll your eyes at him, knowing of the crush Snow harbored on you as children. "And I could not let that district scum Plinth take you away from me before I even had the opportunity to have you." He explains, and you blush in response to his words. You couldn't believe that he still, after all this time, was interested in you. You knew you were beautiful, sure, but not nearly as gorgeous as the other girls Coriolanus spent time with, like Clemensia, Livia, or Arachne.

"You... you want me?" You ask cautiously, still in shock of his confession.

"Yes, you foolish girl. I realize I have not made my true interest in you more pronounced in the past, but I was just thinking of bringing my proposal to your father. What I was telling the peacekeeper wasn't all lies, I want you to be my future wife." Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head, not expecting a full on love confession from Coriolanus.

"Oh, Coryo." You whisper, looking directly into his eyes. You have always thought his eyes were one of his best features, and up close, you couldn't deny it. "I would love to be your wife." You smile at him sweetly, and you swear there is a blush on his cheeks, though you could never get him to admit to that.

"Really?" He asks, and you laugh, nodding. He then ducks his head, meeting your lips with a hesitant kiss. You press your lips back against his, hard, and he groans. You reach yours arms up, wrapping them lightly around his neck. You pull back for air, and press your forehead against his.

"I think we should go back to your apartment, so I can thank you. And show you that I am serious about wanting to become your wife." You tell him, and he groans again, thinking about all of the ways you could potentially thank him. You peck his lips once more, before he pulls away, gently guiding you to follow him.

As you both make the walk to the Snow's apartment, you talk about everything and anything, getting to know each other better. You both were serious, about wanting to marry each other, and if you were to marry, you should at least semi-court beforehand. And that involved a lot of getting to know each other: mind, body, and soul.

As he unlocked the door to the penthouse, you were slightly surprised to not see a fancy apartment. Rather, you saw a ramshackle place, that you could tell once held glory. You glanced at Coriolanus, who looked ashamed. You would never judge him, or his family's true financial situation, and you wanted to voice that to him. You didn't care that the Snows weren't as rich as they were before the war, all you cared about was Coriolanus. Besides, you could easily afford to pay for your future wedding, as well as help the Snow family out.

"Y/N..." Was all that Coriolanus was able to get out, before you started talking.

"Don't even bother, Coryo. I don't care that your family doesn't have as much money as it did before the war. I don't care at all about money. I know what I feel for you, and no amount of money that you have will change my feelings. Besides," You stop, worried that you may accidentally offend him with your offer, before continuing, "I could afford to pay for our wedding, and more, with all of my own money. You won't have to worry about a thing, darling. I could even help your family. I know that your cousin is a talented seamstress, and deserves more than what she has."

You see Coriolanus' jaw fall slack, before he cracks a smile you hadn't seen in years. It was beautiful, it was radiant, it was so Coryo, and you loved it.

"Really? You mean that, Y/N? You are not messing with me, are you?" He questions, worried that you did not mean a word you just told him, that you were simply toying with his heart.

"No, Coriolanus," You grab his hands in your small hands, yours quickly becoming engulfed by his large hands as he squeezes gently, "I am not messing with you. My father has a stupid amount of money, and I am his only child. I want to use the money I have for good. And helping your family is the good." You explain, wanting him to fully believe you. You would spend all of your allowance on him, if he wanted it. You had more than enough things that you knew he and his family merely wished for.

"Oh, darling. You are the sweetest woman in all of the Capitol, and you are all mine. Mine." He responds to your declaration, before leading you further into the apartment, and into his bedroom.

"All yours." You whisper, meeting his eyes. They were shining with unshed tears and love. You had never seen Coriolanus as a kind, loving man, as he was very guarded and reserved at the academy, only speaking when spoken to. However, you were so thankful that he trusted you enough to show that side of him, and it made your heart race.

He smiled at you once more, before speaking. "I remember you promising to thank me, and show me how you really feel about becoming mine, my darling." You knew that he wouldn't forget that you said that, and you were more than happy to show him how you cared for him.

You dropped to your knees in front of him, quickly unbuttoning his school uniform, and yanking the slacks down with the boxers he wore underneath. You gasped in shock at the size of his cock as it sprung up, slapping his stomach. He unbuttoned his top, quickly discarding in on the floor next to his bottoms, leaving him totally exposed for you, whilst you were still fully clothed. It felt powerful, him bare before you had everything on. He was surrendering himself to you, and you wanted to show your appreciation.

You peppered a few kisses to his thighs, before running your tongue up the entire length of his shaft. He was so long, so thick, you weren't entirely sure you would be able to fit him in your mouth. You had experience, sure, but you had never been with someone as large as Coriolanus.

He let out a low growl at the feeling of you tracing the vein that ran from bottom to top with your tongue, and you rewarded him by licking the slit of his cock, tasting his precome. Normally, the taste of a man's precome disgusted you, but his did not.

You then took the tip in your mouth gently, before hollowing your cheeks. You took him as far in your mouth as far as you could, feeling his cock bump into the back of your throat. You estimated he was about eight inches, with girth. You were one lucky woman, with a man that was far above average. You knew he would be able to pleasure you easily. But right now, all you were focused on was pleasuring him, thanking him for lying for you.

You bobbed your head up and down slowly, grabbing what you couldn't fit in your mouth with one of your hands, matching the bobs of your head with the twists of your wrist as you jerked the base of his dick. He was going crazy above you, letting out animalistic groans, hands fisted in your hair, gently tugging, as your worked your mouth over his cock.

You could tell he was close, by how loud his grunts got, and the way the hands tangled in your hair were pulling harder. You doubled down your efforts, moving your head up and down faster, making sure your hand was setting the same pace.

"Darling, I am so close. I am going to come down your throat." He warned you, panting. You didn't respond, continuing your efforts. You wanted him to come in your mouth, to truly thank him for being a kind man, at least a kind man to you. He came with a grunt, seed trickling in your throat, you swallowing it quickly.

Once he was done, you pulled off his cock, smiling sweetly up at him. He gently helped you onto your feet, making sure you were stable enough to stand after being on your knees.

"Thank you, my sweet." He told you earnestly, detangling the knots he had made in your hair with his gently with his fingers. You moaned at the sensation, and you could see his eyes turn dark at the sound you made.

He stopped running his fingers through your hair, instead setting his hands on your ass, pulling you to kiss him. The kiss was passionate, and you felt yourself beginning to dampen your panties. You pulled away from the embrace, panting heavily. You attempted to begin unbuttoning you uniform, but Coriolanus pushed your hands away.

"I want to undress you, darling. That's my job, from now on." He told you, removing both your top and bottoms, leaving you in your black, lacy bra and underwear. He groans at the sight of your breasts held up delicately in the bra, and hardens again instantly.

"May I?" He asks, his hands slipping to the clasp of your bra, waiting for your approval. When you nod, he unhooks it, gently pulling the straps down your arms, and tossing it somewhere you don't see.

Coriolanus lets out a grunt at the sight of your pretty breasts, bare for him. He kneads one experimentally, and you let out a noise of satisfaction. He smirks at your reaction, before stopping the ministration entirely. Instead, he sweeps you up, into his arms, carrying you over to his bed, gently settling you down in the center of it.

Clambering onto the bed next to you, he slips his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, meeting your eyes, searching for approval to remove them. When you nodded with a smile, he pulls them down your legs. Once they are fully removed, he spreads your thighs apart, revealing your glistening cunt to him.

He groans at the sight, and gently sweeps a finger through your folds, gathering your slick on the digit. He pops the digit into his mouth, making a noise of pleasure at the taste of you. That makes you gush a little more, pleased that Coriolanus likes the way you taste.

"Please, Coryo." You plead, "Take me. I'm yours. Please." You see him think for a moment, before climbing over top of you, muscular forearms holding him from crushing you with his weight.

"Oh darling, you are all mine. I can't wait to feel my tight little pussy clenching for me. Mine." He whispers hotly in your ear.

You grab his cock, pumping it a few times, then position the head at your entrance for him, and meet his eyes. He thrusts in, harder than you expected, immediately bumping into your cervix. You both let out noises of pleasure, overwhelmed with the feeling of one another. He begins thrusting rapidly, grunting at your slick coating his cock.

You were squeezing him like a vice, and he didn't want to embarrass himself by coming too quickly, before you could even meet your own end. He angled his hips, and slammed directly into the spot deep inside of you that had you seeing stars. You screamed, rapidly approaching your orgasm at the feeling of his dick stretching you out, slamming into your g-spot roughly.

Reaching a hand down your body, you rubbed at your clit roughly, and you feel your peak approaching. "Coryo!" You moan, "I'm so close. I need to come."

"I am close as well, my sweet. I promise, I will make you feel oh so good. Come for me" He smirks, continuing to pound into your tight heat.

"Oh! Coryo!" You scream, coming undone on his cock, your spend quickly forming a frothy circle around his dick as he continued driving into you, attempting to reach his own end.

"Please, come inside." You whimper out, and that was all he needed, spurting deep inside of you. You begin to feel faint from the overstimulation, but you fight it, and Coriolanus pulls out of you gently, the mix of your spend and his spilling out, onto your thighs and onto the bed sheets.

He climbed off of you, rolling you onto your side, before pulling you to his close, your back to his chest. You were both breathing heavily, and laid in silence for several minutes, until your breathing returned to normal.

"That was a perfect thank you, my future wife." Coriolanus whispers into your ear as you cuddle, basking in the after glow of your activities.

"I'm glad, my future husband. Thank you for everything you said today, Coryo. I mean it. I would probably be on the train right now, going to district two, if it wasn't for you, and your intelligent brain." You say, pressing back closer to him.

"It was no problem, my sweet. I knew I couldn't let that Plinth boy take you away from me, because of his own stupidity. That isn't your fault, and trust me when I say, the Plinth family will be dealt with." He tells you, eyes narrowing in anger.

"It's alright, Coryo." You attempt to soothe him, turning slightly to press a kiss to his sweaty chest, and he grunts back at you. "I'm still here, with you, my darling. There is nothing to deal with, I promise."

"He tried to take you from me. He knew I liked you, and lied to his father, to get rid of you. He thought by getting rid of you, he could get to me, without another in the way." Coriolanus tells you, and you gasp in shock. You didn't want to believe the words that were just spoken, but it wouldn't surprise you.

You knew Sejanus wanted more of Coriolanus' friendship than he had, and it didn't surprise you that he thought you were in the way of that. Sejanus was friends with both of you, or so you thought. He knew that his one best friend liked his other friend, and so he sought to destroy it. How truly awful.

"Oh, Coriolanus. I wish you had just told me that you liked me, rather than keep it a secret. Maybe this wouldn't have had to happen like this." You tell him, reaching a hand up to ruffle his curls. "I'm just glad you were there today, and defended me. I am no rebel, you know that." You giggled, continuing to run your fingers through his curls.

"You are a rebel, you are my rebel." He tells you, leaning into your touch. You blush at his words, before letting out another giggle.

You may not be the anti-Capitol rebel that the Plinths tried to pin you as, but you were a rebel in the way you loved Coriolanus Snow without a care in the world, money be damned. And that rebellious love that Coriolanus was able to tame was the only thing that mattered.

©keeplcving 2024. please let me know what you think, and feel free to send me requests! :) i’d love to write more of what y’all would like to see!!

[marilynthornhilllover]

can you please make a fanfic we’re Larissa dies like in the show then wife reader makes and attends the funeral, but when she gets home she realizes that the front door to her and Larissa’s home was unlocked so she goes in slowly but she sees Larissa at the kitchen table drinking wine and Larissa says something like “miss me darling” and then some smut if you want. ❤️💋

Filthy love

Larissa weems x Fem reader

Warning: Angst, grief, sadness, slight anger, pain, lots of talk about depression, faking of death, smut, fingering, cunniligus, usage of toys such as : vibrator and strap, slight choking, kinda soft sex, praise kink, stalker kink if you squint, slight mommy kink, slight degradation kink.

A/n: I just want to say a HUGE THANK YOU to all of you who got me to 1,005 followers!! I'm so so so grateful and happy. I'm looking forward to continue writing fanfics for you all, thank you for interacting with my work and blog and simply liking my content and i am blessed to have each and everyone of you on board with me, sending love to you all also I hope you enjoy this 1k following special fanfic 👀💖.

There wasn't enough words in the English dictionary to describe the pain and emptiness that you were feeling as you stood over larissa's closed casket. There were no more tears left to cry. All you felt was emptiness, a never ending suffocating cycle of pure sadness, filled with rage. They say death has no sting and that it sneaks up on you and it's absolutely true. Nothing compares to what you felt currently.

You couldn't feel anything, you couldn't hear anything. It's like being trapped in the middle of the ocean with no air yet your still not exactly drowning, you don't want to drown but you refuse to be rescued out of the toxicity of the air.

You felt utterly numb. It's as if you too weren't alive, like a part of you died with her, and is to stay forever buried with her. Soon you'll have to thrown the first batch of sand on her grave, plant flowers two months later, listen to people express their condolences and state how larissa was a ' sunshine in a word filled with gloom'. Correct - absolutely correct. She was your sunshine in your world of gloom.

Truth be told you didn't deserve larissa - Or maybe larissa didn't deserve you. You'd always argue, she'd always stay at work. Nothing was simple, everything was so complicated behind the thick walls of your home. Fake bright smiles where somtimes even the Toothpaste couldn't clean the disgusting words you'd both spit at eachother behind close doors just to apologize minutes after with kept hatred inside.

It's as if you weren't there, but she was still here. It's not possible. She no longer existed and you wished you could swap places. She died so you can live but really and truly you didn't want to be here either.

The word is toxic and exhausting and larissa kept things joyful for you, always ready to sacrifice her happiness to see you smile. The memories of the good kept attacking your brain, handing in return instant headaches.

The first time you both laid eyes on eachother.

The time she asked you out on your first ever date.

The time she asked you to be her girlfriend.

The time she proposed.

The time she asked you to move in.

Right until the day you both said ' I do' the only soft, truthful words to ever be said to eachother. Maybe if larissa was here she offered up her happiness. You felt everything at once. It was all overwhelming. You wanted to be no where and here at the same time. The sadness you felt inside was unbearable yet no tears dared to escape..... they all stayed dried.

With a sigh you sniffed and made your way towards your seat, sitting besides Wednesday you flicked a warm smile towards her, you weren't sure if it was quite excalty warm though, after all your warmth was laying with her hands on her chest in a small, itchy casket. Larissa hated small spaces, if she was alive she wouldn't even be lying there now..... and that's how you knew she's really dead.

Because in the back of your head, there was a part of you that believed this was all a joke and that maybe thos was all a cruel prank to be played.

" are you ok?" You turned to look at the small girl besides you, forcing a smile you nodded. She definitely didn't believed you, to be honest who would?. Calling your heart broken would be an understatement, you don't know how celion dion sang that song because your heart definitely will not be going on without larissa. If you could have took her hand in death you would have.

"Til death do us part"

Wednesday truly cared for larissa, under her tough goth act there laid a heart of gold for the sapphire, Elsa blond hair and beautifully paled skin beauty.

You were once again broken from your trance as the pastor began to do his speech.

This you realized was your Roman empire, your own wife's death. You should really he celebrating her life but she hardly enjoyed her life. She was too tied up with work and you being on her back 24/7 percent of the time. She wasn't allowed space to breathe, well now she has more than enough.

After the pastor was done doing his speech you stepped on stage to say your urology - your last words. Taking a steady breath, and a long exhale you positioned the paper infront of you on the podium as you tried your best not to allow the tears their accompanied time frame.

" firstly, i want to thank you all for truly being here today so that we can honor our beloved and bright spark, Larissa Weems..... larissa was many things.... she was a principal, to some a English teacher. She was a daughter, a lover, a role model etc but t-to." You sighed as you looked down steading out your breath as your voice broke.

" to me larissa was much more than that in my life. I was a field of dead flowers before I met larissa, a-and she was like the sun that came out, bringing both warmth and healing into my life. She was and will forever be my hero that wore heels and my sunlight that brighten and made my life and day better. S-she never failed to make me smile or laugh, even giggle. I know to many of you she was so much more than just a sun.... she was the entire world even universe. And as we lay her to rest today I hope we all find the time to heal and be storng, because that's who larissa was, storng....."

Everyone sniffed, some clapped, most breaking down in tears. You never ment for anyone to shed even more tears or for any hearts to be broken any more than they already were you just needed everyone to find peace just as much as you wanted to find it as well.

After the funeral was over you hugged everyone goodbye and wished them a safe drive home as you also headed home, already planning to sleep because you couldn't accept the pain that you will feel after arriving home and realizing the house is empty.

As you pulled into the driveway you noticed the door looked pushed open. You weren't in the correct headspace but you knew for sure weren't crazy, you remember closing and locking the door perfectly well after leaving. After switching off the car and getting out you carefully walked up to the house - the mansion.

You fired all employees for three months with pay since you needed the time and house for yourself to simply be human and do human things which in this situation will be to grieve. Upon arrival you inspected the door before pushing it open and stepping inside slowly. If there was an intruder you'd rather catch them in the act, then call the police.

" hello?? Who's there? I suggest you just surrender now or I won't hesitate to call the cops on yo-" as you rounded the corner of the kitchen you saw larissa sitting on top of the countertop with her heels long forgotten on the carpet of the dinning room chair. Her lipstick was smudge as her legs swinged back and forth. She looked...... well not dead obviously. You knew for sure you weren't dreaming and she definitely looked very alive.

She moaned softly as she finished her wine and placed the glass down ontop the counter with a small cling. She sighed as a smirk was quickly painted across her face. You didn't know how to react. Maybe you should scream and run for your life, be happy and joyful or to maybe stay sad just incase this was your own mind manipulating you into a maladaptive dream land trance.

" hello darling....." She spoke in a low husky voice as her eyes flicked up towards yours, they were dark and swirling with desires for many things - things that you knew of and knew not of.

" did you miss me?" She asked as her eyebrows quirked up in a teasing manner. Your body stayed frozen as she jumped off of the counter and strides towards you very slowly. Her hips swayed as the smirk remained on her face. You could hear your rapid heartbeat in your chest with every closer step she took towards you, not breaking eye contact nor curving her lips into a non - smirk.

She finally stopped right infront of you as she tilted her head to the side, inspecting your face, possibly trying her best to read your every emotion as well as she can. As you looked into her eyes you saw, warmth, passion, love, peace, joy, everything that made larissa unique was swirling around in her sapphire iris, you felt your connection spark that you had with her ignite as her hands made their way around your waist pulling you flush against her body.

" I'm alive, my love. Long story but right now I think I'd rather cherish you" she whispered against your earlobe, gently pressing a kiss towards your neck before leaning back to look at your face, but again it remained blank because you did not have any reactions or emotions lingering on your face or in your eyes. It's like you were a statue, frozen before time.

Larissa chuckled softly, her hands making their upwards your chest Slightly grouping your breast making a moan escape your from the back of your throat. She grinned as she pushed you up against the counter. Despite all odds and questions that needed to be asked about everything that happened you needed her badly, she was like a drug that you needed desperately to live. You grabbed her cheeks and forced her lips against yours.

It took her by surprise but she quickly kissed back with the same equal amount of passion. You opened your mouth and gaved her access as she gladly took it by slipping in her tongue and using it to her advantage. Her hands traveled down your body wildly as she squeezed your ass and grabbed your hips harshly as she picked you up and took you to the bedroom.

She kicked the door open with her feet as she switched on the lamp light before throwing you onto the bed aggressively. She crawled up towards you and reconnected both your lips again in a heated, sloppy desperate kiss that spoke so much words that the lips could never utter.

You helped her take off her clothing as she helped you in return.

" fuck I need to taste you darling" she mumbled before spreading your thighs apart and smirking. She bit her bottom lip as she admired your baby pink lace panties before proceeding to pulling it to the side. She groaned as she saw your arousal spreaded all around your cunt as your puffy clit stared back at her. Larissa wasted no time as she enveloped her mouth onto your small bud immediately setting a fast sucking pace.

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as your hands immediately flew to her hair pulling her even closer.

" your so fucking delicious darling" she purred as the vibrations from her speech made your shiver. Larissa used her hands to hold your thighs open to prevent you from squirming and bucking your hips as her tongue flicked back and forth against your clit in a rapid pace.

" f-fuck, larissa, I'm gonna cum." You whispered as she chuckled darkly, her hot breath on your cunt was driving you crazy. She knew fully well what she was doing to you. Your stomach twisted as you felt larissas fingers trace slow steady circles around your entrance that caused your back to arch.

" so needy for mommy huh baby, you need me to be alive to fuck you senseless" your brain began to get fuzzy, the effect larissa had on you was dangerous - deadly dangerous. Your grip in her hair tighten as your nails digged deeper into her scalp. Your eyes rolled back as she continued to violate your clit endless in the most oragam way possible.

You felt the knot in your stomach tied as it was ready to explode. Your other free hand gripped the sheets as you swore you were gonna leave holes in it.

" such a dirty slut for mommy darling" she cooed as she slowly thrusted her two slender fingers into you at once before pulling them out, and that was all it took before you cummed in her mouth. She removed her lips from your abused bud as she gently kissed it before leaving open mouth kisses on your hot sweaty skin all the way up to your lips.

She watched as you tried to catch your breath as you gently shivered.

" I'm not done yet princess" she whispered before leaning over towards the side table and pulling open the drawer, her hand rumbled around in there for a while before a pink clip on button vibrator cake evident in your eyes. Larissa smirked before snaking her way back down to your pussy. She took both sides of your underwear and pulled it down as you lifted your hips to assist her.

You spread your legs even wider for her. She looked up at you with an evil expression before attaching the vibrator to your sensitive clit. As soon as she turned on the button you collapsed onto the bed in pleasure. You moaned as her hand wrapped around your neck. She leaned down closely to your face, her lips ghosting yours. You leaned in to place a kiss onto her lips but she pulled away chuckling.

" such a needy little girl, letting me do what I want with her needy cunt" you gasped as she slipped her two slender fingers into your cunt, your eyes rolled back as you let out a sigh of satisfaction. You could hear as her fingers went in and out of your wet cunt with squelching noises and your sweet moans and whimpers for her. You were her bitch to fuck.

Her hold on your neck tighten even more as her pace picked up to something more brutal. You cried out as she curled her fingers in you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again that had you going dumb for her and crying. She loved the way your greedy cunt clench led down around her fingers. Your hips rocked back and forth desperate to meet her thrust.

" Come on darling, cum again for me" she cooed as she picked up her pace, pushing her fingers deeper into you lr cunt past knuckle length.

" OH GOD! MOMMY! P-PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE, NEED IT SO BAD" you screamed as larissa pinched your nipple before slapping it, feeling as your body quirked and trashed beneath her, as your cunt spasms around her fingers. You wanted to try to hold off your oragsm a little while longer, not wanting to seem ' truly desperate ' as a whore who just needed her pussy fucked every second of the day by her wife but you simply couldn't.

" I know you want to" she whispered in a sultry voice, and that was the end of you. Your back arched as you let out the most pornographic moan ever to be heard as you coated larissas fingers with your cream. She continued to fuck you through your oragsm until you couldn't take the overstiumlation anymore. She removed her fingers and cleaned them off with her tongue, keeping her eyes on you.

The way her tongue swirled around her everyone finger, licking up your juices that ran down her hand made your cunt throb. You gulp as you cleared your throat.

" I wanna ride you" you spoke lowly and larissa scoffed.

" go on, get the strap then you can fuck yourself on mommy big cock, maybe if we're lucky I can put a baby in you, get you all full and round with my baby" she groaned.

the thought along had you sprinting towards the closest to get the biggest strap with the most deepest curve possible.

And with this you knew tonight was going to be a very very long night....... hopefully one with pleasure and maybe when that's finished you can get the answers you deserve, because you didn't deserve all that pain and heartache.

[ruggiezz]

bby ya que somos del mismo rancho :3)/ entenderas mejor este pedido esque queria saber si podrias hacer headcanons para los lideres de dormitorio, reaccionando a la costumbre de aqui de saludar siempre con un beso o dos en la mejilla o aveces incluso abrazar cuando son más amigos ^^ y yap, graciaaaas y agradecida por haber encontrado tu blog *beso en la frente*

— KISS ON THE CHEEK : twisted wonderland

[synopsis] them reacting to reader giving them a kiss on the cheek as a greeting (a latin american and hispanic tradition/custom) and them being hugged a lot when being friends (also a latin american thing). reader is yuu

[characters] housewardens (except for vil since i don't write for him)

[extra] YO TAMBIÉN HABÍA PENSADO EN LO MISMO ANON, tienes mucha razón, necesitamos más headcanons así. also, me hace muy feliz de que te guste mi blog 😭

★ RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

He invited you and Grim to the next unbirthday party as the guests of honor. So when he arrives everybody has their eyes on both of you and Riddle approaches to where you're seated and greets you, what he wasn't expecting was you getting out of your seat and greeting him with a kiss on the cheek.

Is flabbergasted pt.1 and he gets as red as a tomato. Inmediately begins screaming "Off with your head" and is only stopped when Ace and Deuce run towards you both and try to explain the situation.

He gets more relaxed now knowing that's just how people back in your world greet eachother, but please, don't do it in front of everyone again, or at least without warning him, Cater took a picture and posted it on magicam and Trey teased him for it. Apparently both of them knew and were eager to see his reaction.

Low-key really embarassed the rest of the unbirthday party, he can't stop thinking about it. Riddle makes a mental reminder to ask more about your culture now, just in case you surprise him out of nowhere again.

Also finds out about the hugging aspect when you two were studying for finals, when you hugged him excitedly when you passed a test thanks to his tutoring. He gets red again, but doesn't do anything to stop you from hugging him. Riddle can get used to it, but he won't probably ask for hugs unless you both are in a relationship, so ask him out already.

★ LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

Leona, for once, decided to eat at the cafeteria since Ruggie was sick that day and couldn't bring him his lunch. He sat alone on one table and nobody dared to approach him because if looks could kill, everbody that dared look at the housewarden would drop dead. That was until you spotted him and went to greet him. The whole cafeteria got dead silent when they saw you giving him a kiss on the cheek. THE Leona Kingschoalr being KISSED by the magicless human.

"Oi herbivore, you're really bold, aren't you? Daring to kiss me in front of everyone?" Leona looked at you with a grin, if it was another person that dared to do it and not you, he wouldn't have let it go, but it was you, so he is going to let it slide. Are you interested in him then?

Disappointed but not surprised when you explain that is a way of greeting people back in your world, but hey, at least he is in a better mood now, so you better sit and eat lunch with him (in silence).

When he overhears a first year Savanaclaw student, that doesn't like Leona, make fun of him, for going "soft", and you, for being "shameless" for that kiss, he's furious. The next day that student had to run an extra kilometer at morning training.

Regarding being hugged a lot, he doesn't mind, but he won't say that. He calls you "bold" and "fearless" for doing it, but doesn't stop you. Ruggie even saw you both asleep in the botanical garden while hugging. Maybe he has developed a soft spot for you after all.

★ AZUL ASHENGROTTO

I know I made headcanons of Azul being chilean, but Yana Toboso hasn't made it canon (smh octavinelle being latino in canon when) so I'll go with how he would react in canon.

Azul invited you to Mostro Lounge to taste the new menu he carefully planned as a way of raising the daily income. He greeted you at the entrance with Floyd and Jade behind him, when you suddenly gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"..."

"..."

"Shrimpy! I want a kiss on the cheek too! Why is only Azul getting one?"

Flabbergasted pt.2, give him a moment, he needs to sort out his thoughts. What just happened. Did the prefect just kiss him on the cheek out of nowhere? This wasn't part of the plan.

Jade interrupts his thoughts when he starts laughing at him, and Azul goes back to the real world and demands at explanation at you over what you just did.

He is still flustered even after you explain that's just a custom back in your world, but has to compose himself for the sake of the rest of the customers that are staring at him. He won't mention it again the rest of his life, unless you greet him like that the next time. Needless to say, Azul got teased by the tweels after who just wouldn't let it go.

Azul is also very flustered when you hug him out of nowhere when he helps you out with an assigment "on the house". Is this also a custom of your country? It is? Oh, he's a little dissapointed you "don't mean it" in a romantic way, since he's been interested in you for a while. Just don't hug him in front of Jade and Floyd, because: (1) They will make fun of him (2) Floyd will squeeze you.

★ KALIM AL-ASIM

Kalim organized a huge party celebrating that he passed his finals exams and every dorm was invited, which meant you were invited too. While Jamil was running around Scarabia trying to make sure everything was in the right place and making sure there was enough food, Kalim was waiting excitedly near the entrance for you to arrive.

When you arrived and gave him a kiss on the cheek, he stood there shocked for a second while Jamil had a heart attack right then and there. After like 5 seconds of Kalim thinking about what just happened, he gave you a kiss back and greeted you with the biggest smile you've ever seen. You didn't even explain what it meant, he just ran with it, excited that you gave him a kiss.

Kalim doesn't care whether it's a greeting or a romantic gesture, he's just happy you're here. He's whipped for you and will accept anything you give him. Jamil agressively disagrees, he is the heir of a wealthy family, someone could see this and misinterpret the situation, but Kalim doesn't care either way and will now greet you with a kiss on the cheek, if this makes you feel more at home then he will gladly do it!

He eagerly accepts your hugs, his love language is physical touch, so he's sooo happy when you hug him, even if it's out of nowhere. Give him all the hugs you want, no need to warn him. Kalim will make it an habit to surprise you with a hug from behind, be free to do it too!

★ IDIA SHROUD

The only one that isn't getting kissed in public. He invited you to his room to play this new videogame that just dropped. Idia had bought some snacks and brought some blankets so you wouldn't be cold when you suddenly arrived and kissed him. Idia.exe has stopped working.

Flabbergasted pt.3, he couldn't even utter the word "hello" he was going to say. He's literally that "what happened to hello? how are you? my name is?" audio on tiktok. He stands there looking at the wall behind you for around 2 minutes, in total silence. So you're both standing there in silence, even after you explain to him that it's a way of greeting someone where you come from.

Idia's soul probably left his body and had to come back because he just couldn't throw you out of his room to have a minute of self-reflection and to think about the meaning of the universe and why we're all here and-

His whole hair is pink and he just fiddles with his videogame controller the whole afternoon, only replying with short words. If you apologize to him he will get even MORE flustered and start panicking over what to do.

It's the same thing regarding hugs, his hair will turn pink and he will scream internally, give him 5 business days to recover, please. It's not that he hates you or doesn't respect your culture, it's just that Idia isn't used to physical affection by other than his brother and ocassionally, his parents. But he low-key likes it, just give him a few weeks to get used to it.

★ MALLEUS DRACONIA

He visits Ramshackle's garden every night, it's his favorite part of the day since you're the only one that doesn't care much about him being "royalty" and isn't walking around eggshells with him. But he's surely surprised when you greet him with a kiss on the cheek.

"You're certainly bold, child of man. You surprise me every day"

Were you trying to court him? Was this your way of telling him his feelings were mutual? No? It's just a human way to greet each other? He needs to cancel the wedding he was already planning then, a shame. What a disappointment, and you can see he's upset over it because you catch him pouting when he thought you weren't looking.

Sebek almost has a heart attack when he sees you greeting Malleus with a kiss on the cheek when you arrive to Diasomnia. He has never screamed so loud, the glass on the windows almost broke, people in Heartslabyul say they even heard it. Lilia stops him from separating you from Malleus, thankfully.

Malleus enjoys your hugs, they are warm and it makes him feel fuzzy. He even asked Lilia what was this feeling was. Please give him more hugs, he deeply enjoys it. He just assumes it's another human custom, and he's eager to learn more about your culture, please do tell him more. Now you have another topic to talk about in your night walks.