#you're just giving him enrichment now

[syn0vial]

funniest part about the bounty hunter wars by K.W jeter is how palpatine thinks he's screwing boba fett over by hiring him to take down the bounty hunters' guild, completely ignorant to the fact that boba is a sicko who thinks making himself public enemy #1 of every bounty hunter in the galaxy sounds like the most fun he's had in ages.

it's literally like,

palpatine: that fool boba fett doesn't know that he is but a pawn in my nefarious plot to sow desperation and discord among the bounty hunters of the galaxy. he will be completely unprepared for the torrent of violence and retribution he is about to unleash upon himself. how wonderful it is to make a creature complicit in the workings of its own destruction! >:) boba, like 2 pages later: i can't wait to sow desperation and discord among the bounty hunters of the galaxy 😊 it's going to be sooo fun when my actions unleash a torrent of violence and retribution against me 😃 can't wait!

[pomefioredove]

can I request house wardens + leech twins with a reader who doesn't eat enough bc Crowley doesn't give them enough for food, and they end up really ill and collapsing or something. I'm cravin some fluffy comfort rn, pls and thank you 🙏

I got you🫡🫡 as someone who's been through an eerily similar situation, I really liked this request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ another crowley moment™️

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jade, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, mentions of food and not eating

Riddle wouldn't even have to like you to rush to your side. but he does like you, which makes it all the worse

after checking your vitals, you're in the infirmary. he's got doctors for parents, after all, and he knows that malnutrition is bad

he should have seen the signs...

with exams coming, he's been so busy, and he assumed that you were just tired from studying

but he can feel guilty later. right now, he needs to focus on you getting well again, and not killing Crowley

(then, of course, he'll look for some legal statute or clause that he can threaten Crowley with so you're fed properly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona noticed you'd been acting a little weird lately, but watching you collapse still puts him in shock

luckily, Ruggie and Jack are nearby to help you to the infirmary, so Leona can focus on hunting Crowley down like an animal

there are very few times where Leona is particularly grateful for his status, but this is one of them. just one word on how his family will be hearing about Crowley's neglect, and the old bastard is begging him for forgiveness

even after that, Leona still sends Ruggie with snacks and drinks to Ramshackle

and if you ever scare him like that again, you'll regret it (lovingly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the news of you collapsing during flight lessons reaches Octavinelle rather fast. no one is particularly surprised, since Floyd had mentioned how easily you'd been bruising lately just the night before, but everyone is certainly worried

Azul is the first at your side, asking you all sorts of questions, worried sick. Jade has to remind him to give you space to rest, since you look exhausted (had you always had those dark circles? how could Azul have not noticed?)

now, Azul and the tweels could easily find a way to pressure Crowley, but they know better than to trust him

from now on, you'll be eating in the Mostro Lounge, free of charge

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

perhaps Kalim was just oblivious, because he really didn't think anything was wrong until you were suddenly on the floor in front of him

sure, you'd been a little moody lately, but he figured it was just a thing you were going through. and besides, you know that you can talk to him about anything... right?

Jamil hurries to check your pulse, and shouts for him to get the school nurse- which is jarring, because Jamil never shouts

when you explain everything to Kalim later, he feels... terrible. he should've known- no, he should've asked

Kalim insists you stay at Scarabia while you're recovering, and makes sure you have the most enriching, delicious meals money can buy

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil knew it was bad, but not this bad. if he had known you were on the verge of collapsing, he would've taken a firmer approach to getting you to eat

you're going to worry him to death someday, you know that?

after he's done verbally eviscerating Crowley, he'll insist on joining you at every meal. he'll eat at Ramshackle, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if that's what it takes

he's subtle about it, at least

if he notices that your plate feels empty, he'll just take some food from his and put it on yours. gracefully, elegantly, without a word

you'll come home one day to see your kitchen stocked with vitamins, supplements, and apples (courtesy of Epel)

<3 and a note that says he'll treat you to dinner whenever you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

never scare Idia like that ever again. he wasn't even with you when you collapsed, and he STILL nearly had a heart attack

listen, he knows he's not a great role model when it comes to nutritional eating, but you have got to tell him these things. he would've had Ortho go get takeout! or something!

typical Crowley behavior, SMH. what does he think you are? a rabbit? even the school horses get treated better...

no way that Idia is going to even bother with that old fart, anyway. you want something? he'll get it for you. you don't even have to ask, he'll just send food to your place (and have Ortho check your vitals more often but shhh)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I would not want to be in the room when Malleus finds out about this

not even the building. you know what? I'd steer clear of the whole island, because it will not be pretty

when you collapse in front of him, it feels like he's dying, too. the panic sets in, and he sends Lilia to look after you, and Silver and Sebek to escort you to the infirmary, and then he casually threatens to smite Crowley. obviously

if the students and staff of NRC thought Malleus was scary just being Malleus, he's terrifying when he's mad

(rest assured that you will be getting ten times the amount of food from now on)

it's thunderstorms for days after, but he never leaves your side

[court-jobi]

Meal Prep

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's works or the lovely art found here))

Pairing: Bakugo x reader (biker!prohero reader, afab pronouns used)

Words: 5k

Rating: M | 18+ (begone, minor extras- it's too spicy for you, Kacchan says so)

Warnings: hand-holding sexy times, first time!Bakugou/reader, food and commitment as a love language, FEELINGS, accidental quirk use, pet names, piv smut, established relationship, wrap it up, this is fantasy

Summary:

Katsuki made you food; fuel and comfort all in one. He won’t let you touch that door handle in the car even if you’re the one driving, and calls you Angel Eyes like it’s your name. He’s not just the badass of the agency office who stuns you with his strength and resolve; he’s ready and willing to take a step beside you and do life together.  And you in turn want to be soft for him, want to give in and let him take care of you. That brand of love made you want to jump his bones.

A/N: It's spice, yall. Someone needs to rein their quirk in, and I'm not naming names (Katsuki Bakugou)

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

When Bakugou turned to his side -feeling the hand at his lower back- and went to lift you up on the counter for some kisses, something just... came over you. 

Your moves were tame at first- rubbing his chest and shoulders at the moment’s reprieve. Just giving yourself sweetly into it. Now with his hands on you, he got really hard really fast, and made some quip about you getting fresh between shared ravishments of love. 

Sure, you were biting at his lips longer than usual. Sure, you were hanging onto him in a manner far more codependent than you'd ever claim to be. By the look in his eye, he wasn't ever gonna be caught complaining, though. You’ve  been stared at and longed after across any room you're in just as wantonly, and he's the first to second your opinion when it matters. He calls you every night he's away for missions, and stays his need to sleep just to be able talk to you while your time zones are flip-flopped. 

Although, it was rather hungry of you to be so enamored by him today: where even the simplest conversation about the prices of strawberries going up made you fall slack into him. 

He asks what brought this on~ 

"Just love having you here,” you surmised, “I– like not doing these things alone." 

You’d made the economical offer to cook together and split the bills. Since your diets were fairly similar anyway, you might as well buy in bulk. He was in an indulgent headspace tonight, since he’d been laying on the pet names thick all day; this, his rare day off. Yours is tomorrow, but you were fortunate enough to get off at a decent hour to get the grocery shopping done early- with him. 

– only Bakugou enforced a strict habit of insisting on taking care of the receipt at the store, but never letting you settle up your half. The ‘slip of the mind’ he suffered from the first time was no longer an accident, but a routine.

Now, two stacks of four portioned meals each lay side by side prepped in the fridge. Some additional protein packs top your stash to keep on hand between long night drives; small and compact, they help fuel you mid-mission so you don’t have another repeat of a blood sugar drop while enroute with a squad of heavyweight heroes making a cross-city trek. Bakugou preferred to pick out treats as a surprise in those meal kits. Trivial as gift giving goes, but it offers some enrichment to your otherwise predictable menu. You haven’t seen what he’d snuck in the cart underneath that bag of string beans this time, and just saw their packed away presence in the fridge, teasing you.

But back at the sink where he’d begun to wash up, you ignored their mystery. Now, you just wanted to show him how much he was appreciated.

Yes, something switched in your brain: making meals together, sharing cleanup duties, counting these little moments as blessings and feeling like life’s weight wasn't all just on you put you in a mood. You both might not have necessarily gotten too fresh before today, but this wasn’t simply a domestic dance with lust.

Katsuki made you food; fuel and comfort all in one. He won’t let you touch that door handle in the car even if you’re the one driving, and calls you Angel Eyes like it’s your name. He’s sharp and fast to stop you from doing something stupid, and was the loudest voice in the room when your top 20 ranking was announced across the agency conference table. He’s not just the badass of the agency office who stuns you with his strength and resolve; he’s ready and willing to take a step beside you and do life together. 

And you in turn want to be soft for him, want to give in and let him take care of you.

He wanted to show you he loved you; down to the grind of meal prepping on a Sunday night. That brand of love made you want to jump his bones.

Your adoring man nuzzles and talks to your neck, "Gettin' sappy again, angel."

He is down bad for you: no matter how sassy he makes the observation sound– that scratchy, rumble tone doesn’t help with your dizzying brain at all.

You offer up your neck a little, scratching along the base of his spine for full, soothing effect.

"Whass’wrong with that?" 

Bakugou simply purrs back happily.

"Cuz if you start saying shit like that, I'mma start sayin' shit. Shit I won't be able to stop spewing once I start."

"Maybe I don't want you to stop."

He senses your heart peeking through your words. Your eyes carry the message loud and clear, too, though they’re having a hard time staying open from the headrush. 

Lifting his heavy head, Bakugou studies you thoughtfully, before stepping into this soft side of yours.

"You don't want me to stop." 

Of course you don’t, so you shake your head.

"You want me to stay." 

Through a smile, you give your shy agreement. 

Even more vulnerable, Bakugou’s rare touch of a smile makes its appearance,

"You want me to stay forever? Make sure my lady's fed and happy?”

"Yes," you sink into him, happier than ever. 

"Looks like I'm staying then. Already made you dinner. Whaddya want me to do next?" 

"Hmm– kiss me?" 

Bakugou leans in to grant you your simple wish- but fully laps at your mouth instead. He means to entice, draw things out, make you want him that much more while giving himself nothing but torture at the same time. He’s used to making himself sweat; at least this was the fun simmer that didn’t burn.

The blonde moans low in his chest when you brush his cheek’s scar with your thumb. 

"Whaddya want, pretty girl,” Bakugou scoops you in close, memorizing this hot look of need you’re having right in the middle of chores, “What, y’want me to kiss you forever too?" 

Fixed on his lips -currently teased between his teeth- you give a rare curse that contrasted your sugar sweet demeanor, 

“Hell yes--" 

Kisses smash between you as sloppily as you want while he pulls you off the counter, over to the couch, and plops you on his lap, where you adjust to a squat over him and followed his persistent pull for you to sit. 

Pink lovemarks all over your neck, Bakugou’s rough attentions drive his hands to go just about anywhere he wants in a need-driven frenzy. Whether to warm you up or keep himself from perspiring too much? Who's to say.

Suddenly as he growled out his pleasure at your hips fitting up upon his lap, Bakugou fisted your  shirt in each palm– he tugs you deliciously tight as you kiss the daylights out of him.

Through his satisfied chuckles, he thought all was good until he started feeling some pops muffling in his hands. 

Bakugou knows what's coming– it's the speed of this onset that freaks him out-

His senses shout at him lightning quick, so it's a miracle that Bakugou immediately threw his hands out, shooting off hot sparks with palms out towards the coffee table- spooking you into a yelp. 

The panic settled just as soon as it came– you stared at each other after the round of pops stopped. 

Somehow, you were never afraid he’d ever sweat to the point of harming you, so you rolled with it as if he didn’t just almost blow you to bits. Must just be excited. 

Cheeky, you  thumbed to your bedroom before mimicking a Dynamight-style ‘stressball’ in your palm.

"Need your gloves?"

Bakugou rolled his eyes, "Fuck.... Fine."

As if a little coverage on his hands was going to be the end of the world. 

"I could make a condom joke instead, so be grateful!~" 

A pruned hand smacked your thigh in protest. “Har. Har.”

As you dismounted him (since you knew he was just gonna be pouty and sulk until he could touch you again), you pulled him up by his neckline so that he followed hungrily behind you and didn't cause a stink over it. In your room, you dug in his designated helmet for his gloves, which he roughly handled and donned while you rounded his strong set of shoulders and kissed him through it across the bits of skin you could reach.

"Can't believe I gotta put these fuckin’- things on- every time I get hot and fuckin' bothered-” 

"We'll figure that out, honey. Hey,” you pull him up to your sightline, “You still got me?”

Gloved but no less handsome as ever, Bakugou looks far too dazed to try his hand at driving your bike. Better he crash here, with you. He grabs you close; his answer.

��-- then there’s no complaints here. It’ll work; for now."

He moans kind of high and happy into your kisses on his mouth again. The sound ripples in you, coaxing more love out from your needy fingers and gentle kneading and soft layers that he’s mad he couldn't reciprocate anymore. He voiced this displeasure when he tugged up on your thighs and tipped you onto the bed. Setting a knee between your thighs and capturing a hand in his to pin you, Bakugou firmed up his brows, 

"Well, maybe I wanna feel you BACK, huh?"

"I get that, Katsu-honey~ we'll-- work on it. Learning curve." 

One thing the Hero World would be fast to assume about Katsuki Bakugou is that he'd take whatever he wanted from someone making eyes at him; that he'd be dominant and mean and addictive and that one might regret pushing his buttons in the bedroom, because it would be far too much. ‘Better not test him, he’d be too rough.’ But you hardly think this way, as you have him here:

Here, you look up to him, lovesick and shy, pulling him down because he feels too far away. And tempered as he is when he's in deep, Bakugou reads you and quickly responds in kind. He does kneel over and meets your lips, but freezes like steel as he tries to figure out how to be close but not crush you, despite your yanking for it.

"Katsuki~~"

"I'm not dropping ninety-five kilos a’ dead weight on you, dummy,” he chortled, “Not gonna happen."

"But I want you~~"

"Oh, you want me, huh? Needy girl..." Pets caressing down your cheek, you cup your Katsuki’s arm instead as it trails gingerly down the neck, stopping at your collar, until you force it down its path more towards your chest, and lower. 

His touch carries very little pressure. Rather, you see him just watching his own movements in a haze- "Pretty, pretty girl."

A thought crosses your mind and you feel confident; if you voice it, he’ll answer you honestly. 

"Have you never dated anyone before, ‘Dynamight’?"

Without an immediate defense, you're happy to see he’s still letting you guide his hand to slide under your shirt collar and sift along your bra line. 

Unphased, he answers a gentle -but surprising- ‘no’.

"No high school crushes?" you press, flattered.

"Tch, I went to UA. When would I have had time for that?" Bakugou slides your strap and shirt more to the side as he explores, then kisses the shoulder.

Breathy, you challenge after your happy hums. “Kirishima did..."

He only gave a bemused scoff.

“And look where that got him. Is he anywhere close to being #1?" asks the #5 ranked Pro Hero.

"No,"

Bakugou’s gloved palms have successfully reached your breasts, pulling the rest up and off with confidence now, eyeing over your skin deliciously. 

"Guess who is?"

"Y-you~"

"Damn right." Bakugou licks and teases around the space your nipple would lie under the cup, "And y’know how I did it?"

Sights locked onto him, pulling other side down to sift your underclothes up to his gloved hand's touch.

"I'm a fast learner. That's how you get to be the best. Learn fast, do it right. Gets you results at the top of the board. I'm damn good at learning something I want; 'specially when that something's you."

You can’t keep quiet now. Not at this, your forever favorite Pro Hero undressing you with eyes and hands, 

"Ugh God..."

His hands pawed at every bit of you.

"Name's Katsuki, Angel Eyes. But I'll answer to that if you want~"

Your sexy laugh turned to a moan as he sucked hard at your neck to please you, then worked on getting himself fully topless to match. Once laid back with a delightful little jiggle of everything wonderful, Bakugo's sight lay fixed on you, hands running everywhere he could reach now. 

For once, he looked a little scattered, unsure what to do next besides pet you and breathe.

You teased a leg up his, and tried prying his hard shell open again, "There's no wrong way to play, y'know~"

"Heh?"

"You look like you're working-" you rubbed your own tits, a handful each, "-trying to figure out your next move. But really, there's no bad option. It's just me."

Understanding, he nodded, but still looked conflicted.

"And I don't bite, promise~" you tried for levity, finally making him chuckle a little and bring life to his smirk.

"Y'might as well, looking at me like that."

"What, this?" you kneaded and pushed your tits together.

"Fuck, me..."

"S'what I'm saying."

Then in a sweet move, Bakugou pulls you up to cradle you by your jawline and kisses you lovingly, then holds your foreheads in place while he takes a couple practiced inhales. 

Beneath you, you see how excited he is, but also how tense his core has become. It ever so barely trembles.

A muted string of a confession leaves him, 

"I talk big shit... but... never done this part." –this part being sex, you now gather- "Sue me if I'm tryna do right by you. I- feels like my heart's literally goin’ a mile a minute here, what the hell..."

"Mine too~" you run a soothing drag of your nails up his arms before smoothing up and over to his waist, "You are doing right by me, though~ just go with what feels right. I just want you, Kats."

"Yeah?"

"I want you,” you assure him with charged-up love and desire for him, “-so bad."

That was seemingly all he needed to clear his head because he fell right down to you, crawling beside you and scooping you up into his arms where he could trail his hand all up the expanse of your back. Somewhere in there, he slipped off your pants and took the chance to feel all up and down your legs with greedy chuckles.

He'd moan what a gorgeous sight and gentle thing you were, his mouth leaving no limb untouched or unpraised. He's also high on the attention you gave him right back, especially when you tipped him onto his back and kissed along the lines of his chest. Bruises and dips mark up his otherwise perfect skin, but you're pleased to have your Katsuki enjoying this if his sighs are any indication of his arousal. 

Bakugou quirks a brow as he settles back, preparing for you to mount and have your way with him. Consent is king and he doesn't wanna force you to be in a position you don't want.

“Y’want me here?” he asks with hands supporting your waist. “Show me how it's done?”

The sight below you has you ready to pass out on the spot. He’s handsome and horny and all yours.

"Ready when you are~" 

The line between Dynamight and the man behind the title is blurred as he settles into a cocky smirk. He's proud and never one to shy away from attention- not even this, so it seems. 

Bakugou chips his chin up at you with his full support. 

"Atta girl~" 

You whimper when you grind on top of him at first: not simply at how hot the first pass is for you after so long, but how wrecked Bakugou looks as he exhales with force. It's an effort to will himself still, and you love the look of it on him. 

Pride surges in you as you sway yourself over him, checking him over and making sure he's comfortable. 

“You got me?”

His sights open again, to you in all your glory. Any edge he carries in his waking hours is gone as he's let comfort and ease take the wheel over his nervous system. 

Bakugou is pretty damn adorable this way, but you'd only ever say so when he's fully confident- not out on a limb trying something this new with you for the first time. Here, you'd build up his confidence and see how he rises to the challenge. But you’ll go slow, above all else.

Fingers find renewed life as he squeezes you,

“I got you,” he says in wonder, getting there, “I gotcha." 

But right before you lifted up to let him shove his waistline down, he stopped you from sitting with a hard hand at your tummy. In a quick switch, he's cursing nervously about needing to wrap it up. 

Before he could toss you off, you brought his face back to you with a tender hand, keeping him from getting up altogether and bolting for his bag slung somewhere in the kitchen. 

"I'm covered on that front, hon,” you stifle any laughing at his earnest pursuit, “Planned a bit ahead- got in with the nurse a few months back."

Bakugou stills, but then his confusion and concern give way to something deeper. He’s looking at you, awed. 

"You're on it-?"

"Mhm. I'm all set, baby. There's no one else, just– just you. I won't stop ya if you'd feel better with one on, just wanted you to know. " 

Fondness for the hero-turned-friend-turned-lover made you rake your fingers through that mess of blond hair you daydream of petting and bringing out a groan from him all by yourself, 

"However you want me: inside or out~"

Recognition heats him up more, "You sexy, fuckin' girl..."

Catching you back in his arms, Bakugou falls in love all over again. He’s sinking into you sideways, hiking your leg up and over his hip and just holding you close– your man is all in for this the moment he's submerged in you.

"FUUUUUuuuuuck yehehehess…”

You're overwhelmed and giddy and full, and find that it's not just you who's laughing by the time you make eye contact. It's thrilling and perfect that you're here -doing it- and you’re obsessed with how close you two are in this moment that it makes your relief palpable and light-hearted. 

After heated kisses to get him to actually start moving, you're turning every laugh into a love-filled moan: a sound that Bakugo chases with everything in him. 

Eventually the momentum is like a run, fueling him with the more he hears, and is soon tipping you back to settle on top himself-- in charge and letting you take backseat. By how you gawk up at the show of strength, it’s more than alright with you~

"Oh my God, yes sir!!" you squeal seeing him in charge.

"Yeah? Like this, pretty girl?” Bakugou is in his element, despite having just joined the party moments ago, “Y’like your ‘Backpack’ on top, makin sure you don't move a fuckin’ muscle?"

Each huff and moan he makes glues your sights to the spot- head dipping to where you are slamming together, which only makes him ramp it up even more to give you a show.

‘Yeah yeah yeah-- oh FUCK, why haven't I gotten my head out of my ass sooner, you are FUCKING incredible!--’

The sounds Bakugou’s making are passionate and raw, even more so as you're close and you tell him so through near tears. You’re about to cum, embarrassingly fast for you- but then why wouldn't you when the sight of the love of your life is rocking your world off its hinges and sending you into the best headspin?

"Do it baby, do it do it do it~" he growls the freedom deliciously to you– so you will your hand to let go of the comforter and start rubbing your clit wildly to get you over the edge, till you're bucking up and siezing through relieved sobs. 

Bakugou almost damn near chokes on his own shock at the feel, yet only slows a little bit while he holds you down, holds you through it. Once you’re reaching up for his shoulders again -your cue that you're ok and settled - he dives down to your level for some hard kisses as a reward.

Somehow he breaks from the haze of you deliriously giggling for him soon enough, gasping out  desperate lines that nearly made your heart explode– all while going right back to fighting like mad to go over the edge like you did.

“Fuck, I love you.. fuck, I love you, fuck fuck fuck–”

The closer he gets, the hand pinning yours to the bed starts to burn�� which takes your attention.

From watching him fuck you to check your joined wrists is more urgent: Bakugou’s forearm is trembling and visibly sweating all down to the cuff absorbing the rest.

Pretty much sobered you right up by the incoming pain, you're surprised, but you fake it in your bliss and rush him along anyway, until he cries out and shudders into your neck as he finishes– kissing it lightly in thanks muttering all sorts of nonsense you couldn't make out once he sinks onto you- spent.

“Fun, right baby?”

Bakugou’s grunting at every little move of his body.

“S’... M’dizzy,” he rasps, “S’it always dizzy?”

Under a spell yourself, unearth some spare sass n’ sweetness from your back pocket, 

“When it's good,” you give your valid opinion, your free hand making your mark along his arm to settle him down, “when they listen to what you need, n’ when they can provide- even before any clothes come off. I find it best that way, that is…”

Bakugou’s head lolls to the side, pressing a kiss to the tender space just in front of your ear.

“That it is…”

Your palm is pulsing. Hot. But still, you let him find rest, wondering more if he was ok since he was never EVER this gushy, but as his release turned into relieved laughs, Bakugou bridged over you to blow your hair back with a playful gust of his lips and gave you some more indulgent kisses. Sweet as ever, you kissed him back and pressed into his thumb working over your still joined hands.

"You like me~" you taunted.

"huh?~~”

"Y’said you loved me..."

Katsuki giggled, "Shuddup, dummy."

This prompted your tug to free your hand again, hissing when he released and revealed your palm: tinged with an onset of a blister, splotchy with heat–

"THE FUCK??!!” Bakugou noticed the damage himself, “DAMMIT, why didn't you SAY I was cooking you alive??" 

At his apology ridden eyes, you didn't want this hiccup to stall the moment you'd just shared. Flexing each of your hands easily, you shook off any look of pain and beamed up at him instead. 

"You weren't! It just got a lil hot~" he looked at your face again, confused as to why you're not upset at his repeat offense, "BBQ, amiright?" 

Your no-longer sweetheart growls down at you, textbook Bakugou BiteTM.  "NOT. funny." 

You laughed at the nature of it all. 

"I'm ok, baby. Whew... Oh my God~"

Your relief is something fuzzy and delighted to you, but knowing how your darling Katsuki gets in his own head about how fiery his quirk can be, you give him a little wink to quell any fears. 

It works, as your assurances always do. He admires your sated bones and lays another sloppy smooch on you. A silent promise; he’ll take a look at your hand in a bit. 

In moving up your body to reach his shirt to wipe himself with, he slipped out, still hot and heavy (given that he came already) and undeniably turned on- even in this state. You cringed at the mess hitting the cooler air. Hearing your complaint, Bakugou pecked your cheek and nuzzled you back adoringly. 

"Love you, angel.”

"I love you too~" your easy reply passes your lips wistfully.

A dry ache in his chest, he made to rise and see about getting you two a little more comfortable, feeling that same wetness too and grumbled about washing his damn hands, but you stopped him with a little whine.

"Stay~~" 

Crimson eyes softening to yours, the boyish charm returns to Bakugou’s otherwise stoic demeanor. It's a sign he’s clearly plagued in an afterglow buzz.

"Cmon, lemme clean us up. I need the fan on." 

Even colder? Darn his body temp. "Nnng.." 

He gets up anyway, but promises his return with a chip to your chin, "I'll stay, gorgeous. Told you so. I'll stay as long as you want tonight." 

When he came back with the wet washcloth, he coaxed you to stand on your own and go take care of yourself, too. The top sheet is changed and re-tucked in before you got back– mismatched from what remained on the bed before, but you didn't really care. 

He’s made himself comfortable in the bed, only slipping on his boxers you can barely catch the edge of from the sheet in his lap. It’s only made you fold all over again- proof that your boyfriend knows where you keep your spare sheets in the first place. 

You slipped on a fresh pair of panties in your pit stop, but went hunting for your loose shirt again, not bothering with anything under. This got Bakugo's attention seems,

"What, you cold?"

"Little bit~"

"M’over here, then," he patted his chest, you joined him, only to have him sneak his arm under your shirt and tease your tits again, "Don't see why you need this shitty thing while I'm around, just gettin' in my way.."

Giggling and sinking into him, you couldn't fault him. He did have to stay gloved for so long earlier. You laid a kiss straight on his cheek while he had his fill of you.

"Happy girl?" he sings down to you.

Happy girl indeed. "Mhm~ Happy Murder God?"

"Heh-yeah,” Bakugou schooled his breaths to sync to you, “I could get used to this."

"We'll figure out the glove thing."

"...M'sorry for almost toasting you.”

“Eh- I can handle a little snap-crackle-pop.”

Bakugou snorts, tapping out the jingle beat for ‘rice crispies’ on your shoulder. All's forgiven on that front. 

“Really shoulda thrown those in the washer," he grimaced above you, looking over at the door where he set them back with his riding gear. 

"We'll get it later," You snuggled down in his arms, happy to take his leftover heat. “Washer’s all yours~”

"Yeah. Yours is better than mine anyway,” Bakugou leans his head fully back onto your propped up pillows. A contented sigh forces the rest of his muscles to lax. “--piece of crap rattles like it's about to blow up. Yer dishwasher’s better too.”

As he chatters away, he played with the ends of your hair absently. 

“I thought you were my dishwasher?”

Bakugou pauses his twirls, “Oi, I never said I was signing up for that! I was bein’ nice.”

“Yes, you were~” you kissed his neck to force his rising growl down. Works every time. You're back to snuggling in his arms with a contented sigh. “I’ll do them next time.”

“If you’re fast enough, slowpoke, then sure.”

You can barely make out your washer thrumming in the next room as well as the even more distant smooth jazz channel streaming from the living room, but remembered your earlier mindset and just hugged him tighter.

This, you'd certainly miss when he went home tonight. Feeling this close, this warm together, having shared something really special and intimate that you couldn't take back for the life of you. It might make things even worse when it comes to your attachment to him– you two are pushing it at the agency with minimal touches unless there's something really scary that forces his walls down in order to comfort you- or vice versa. After all, your affinity for one another is no one’s business but your own… but you typically are satisfied by his more public ties to you in all the ways that matter- mostly to others in your circle and strangers who he threatens to kick if they keep starin’ at you.

But here, Katsuki holding you is second nature. His true nature. He tells you he cares with every returned text, knowing look, and tender touch he keeps limited in shared company- with you as the sole recipient. 

You can only wish this could be your life everyday. Where you can maybe even start your own agency down the line somewhere; Japan’s first true power couple who can take names like none other. Launch yourselves higher and higher, work yourselves out of a job, and take a retirement in whatever way looks best for you–

When you get quiet in your thoughts, he even knows your 'hiding' tell. Your pillow tilts down to try and get your attention, finally demanding your eyes with a question laced with clear thinking,

"You meant stay stay,” Bakugou asked gently, “-didn't you. Not just- for the night.” 

You softened… nodding ever so much. Leaving room, in case he didn't agree.

What you wouldn't give for him to be your meal prep partner till you both retire from hero work- and then some.

Either nothing went through his mind, or one singular anthem bounced around in there, because all Bakugou did to your little melting expression was kiss you softly, turning you back into the bed, and flopping solidly on top of your chest.

"...gimme 30 minutes. Then let's go get my shit. I call the front room work table."

You're over the moon, and your jaw drops on its own. He’s so ready- barely even thought it through! Or maybe… he was always thinking of it, and was waiting on you.

With that excitement flooding you, you peppered his hair full of kisses until he groaned for you to stop– only after the first ten...

[h5eavenly]

Fallen Star┃Jake Sim

Twenty - you're pretty when you're mine. warnings: smut and angst yipeee

Masterlist ✶ prev ✶ next

“What do you think?” you ask, foolish perturbation coloring the cadences of your voice. Your teeth sinking into your bottom lip with vigor the longer Jake’s silence stretches, the slower his teeth chew on the piece of dessert you had given to him with a glimmer in your eyes, a plead for his opinion.

“It’s good.” He answers shortly.

You release your lip into a pout, shoulders slumping down with disillusionment at the lack of buoyancy in his voice, yet the bags that seem almost permeant under his eyes, evidence of his everlasting fatigue that is pasted onto his features renders you mute. Aware that your pining for his approval is merely a desire to feed your hungry heart, woven with longing.

Jake’s eyes flit to your face then, taking note of the adorable disappointment awfully out of place on your face, it has his own heart softening, his fingers brushing across the skin of your arm with susurrates of your attention.

“I mean it. It’s really good bunny.” He reassures, attempting to demolish through your sulking. And you, with a heart as fragile as glass, one that is easy to peek through just as fast it trembles, only shake your head at him.

“You don’t look like you enjoyed it though.” You mumble, your pout enriching with the sway of your feet like a kid complaining how they didn’t get a taste of their favorite candy.

Jake’s smile disperses across his lips with fondness you don’t notice, his expression melting into endearment at the way you can never keep your words lodged into your heart for too long, your thoughts lingering at the tip of your tongue, yet he always manages to prompt them to spill.

“Have I ever lied to you?” he urges with a hum, titling his head at you in strives to catch your eyes and it works right away.

“No.” you shake your head.

“Then believe me this time too.” As if to make a point he takes another bite of the red velvet cupcake and this time it’s you who breaks into a smile tinged with fondness, like glass refracting light into a rainbow.

It’s directed at his kindness, at his attentive comfort towards you despite the heavy burden of simply existing weighing him down. You don’t get enough time for gratitude to unravel through your words because in a moment of your eyes falling into each other, a brush of his fingers in between the slots of yours, Sunghoon is standing between you two, a look of horrified disgust dancing between you two.

“Can you two not in flirt in the middle of work?” he comments with a roll of his eyes, one that has the tips of your ears tinting pink.

“We’re not flirting.” You defend weakly, your own words holding little to no conviction even to your own ears as you bunglingly retract your hand.

“Alright,” Sunghoon raises his eyebrow at you, tone dripping with irony “Can you shoo? I still need to dress Jake for his photoshoot.” He trails off, your eyes fliting to the couple pieces of garment he’s holding in his arms “Some of us need to actually work you know.”

“Hey!” you deliver a light slap to his shoulder “I work really hard! Tell him Jake” you turn your head to Jake with a pout of offense clambering over your face.

“I don’t know to me it looks like you’re slacking off right now.” Jake says, a sly grin is thrown at you and your mouth falls open with an overemphasized shock.

“Wow you’re really gonna betray me like that?”

“mhm. Are you gonna cry about it, little bunny?”

“As if! Give me back my cupcake” you attempt to snatch the half-eaten cupcake out of his grasp, leaning your body over the chair he’s sitting down in and yet it’s all deemed a failure when Jake stretches his arm out and away from you, a teasing smirk dispersing across his lips, eyes gleaming with mischief as your chest brushes against his shoulders.

“Jake!” you whine with facetious annoyance “Give it back! You’re not worth my treats”

“I don’t think so.” He mocks, watching with satisfaction etched onto his face at your futile tries.

You don’t get to register his other arm sneaking around your waist with a firm grip, ensuring you don’t end up stumbling onto your feet and falling over with the way you’re leaning over him. It’s such a saccharine gesture, one that comes as silently as a fluttering breeze sighing through petals of cherry blossom. A tincture of warmth spreads across your chest and you only feel it when Sunghoon has separated you two with an annoyed groan, reiterating his need to dress Jake.

“Shoo! Now!” He chastised and you had walked away with an overly dramatic pout drawn on your lips, throwing puppy like looks over your shoulder at them.

It only earned you a middle finger from Sunghoon and a snort from Jake.

You only think about his touch protracted moments later, when you still feel the heat of his body radiating off your waist, as if his touch has seared itself upon your skin. A coat of infatuation you can’t seem to take off. It’s the sole reason your heartbeat is abidingly fast even when his touch is long gone, even when his eyes are no longer on you but instead focused on Sunghoon’s face as they discuss his look. You remain a constant in a field of overgrown affection, your fingers itch – tinged with compulsion to pluck them out, you don’t have the energy nor the time to water them and yet, you don’t. your gaze glistening with heedless wishes.

Just a little longer.

You had yearned.

Even as the day unfolds like it always does, congested with Jake’s busy photoshoots and you running around in hope of making anything flow a little smoother for him. It’s only at the very ending hours of your schedule, the night sky had settled with a frigid air circling through the streets. As you sit in the backseat of the van with Jake’s head on your shoulder, exhaling tired puffs of air, and eyes closed.

Somewhere along the ride and in between seemingly unmoving traffic, he had rested his head on your shoulder, with mumbles about how tired he is. Albeit the days that have passed by with you snuggled between his covers or him falling asleep in your bed as if it’s his own, your body still can’t grow accustomed to having him so close.

Yet you still linger in your silence, putting on a show of having it all together as you scroll through your emails, mindlessly while Jay sits opposite from you, scrolling through his own end of work.

“Do you wanna go back to my place?” He whispers right into the skin of your neck, it has your fingers pausing across the screen of your iPad with bated breath, a shiver of something akin to excitement trialing down the length of your spine with fervor.

It isn’t an aberrant question, it’s one that you have heard for more days than not, one that you memorized the action that follows right after, the taste of his lips upon yours and the cruelty of his hands across your body. Yet how come they feel so welcoming? When did his light no longer blinded you but rather pulled you in?

“Sure.” You reply after a few silent beats, clearing your throat and adjusting yourself on your seat.

Jake only hums, and you smile to yourself as the amiability of his proximity filtrates through your essence. You smile, unaware of the heedless wishes driving you into the deepest end of the ground with promise of suffocation, unaware of the way Jay eyes you two.

Your night unfurls like it always does whenever you’re close to him, although with a few different elements it all ends in the same way. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself as you’re standing in the middle of his kitchen and amidst attempts to make a warm cup of tea that Jake didn’t even ask for. You grew a proclivity to try adding any weights of comfort to him, whether that was between the walls of his own home or dreadful hours of photoshoots and interviews.

And you enjoy it really, within your days you have accepted the fact that caring for Jake comes to you with no duress, in fact it is him that had always pushed you away from doing unnecessary things for him you’re not sure if he wasn’t used to the way you looked at him with genial amiability rather than reproach.

You enjoy it until you’re forced to be faced with the reality that none of this means anything cavernous than two lonely souls stumbling upon tender succour in blurry lines and scraps of affection.

You enjoy it until nights like these have your insecurity bubbling to the surface, protruding every sense of certitude he had whispered in your ears even when he didn’t have to. It all crumbles with vast impetus only because you saw a framed picture of Soojin on one of the tables in the living room.

You’re not sure how you never noticed it before, maybe because you and Jake never really spend much time outside his bedroom walls.

but you wish you didn’t. you wish you had gone blind for a moment or rather you wish you didn’t care as much as you did, there’s so much you wish for and yet none of them can be breathed into life in the same semblance you have to tie yourself back from tripping on questions you want to ask.

Is what between you and I merely a comfortable lie?

But none of it mattered, not when your chest had tightened with prodding thoughts, like knives stabbing at your heart with reminders that you will never be good enough.

Because you were feeling so good until moments ago, floating atop the clouds as Jake had muttered to you about how he needs to shower first, you took it upon yourself to ruminate through his displayed pieces, fingers grazing the soft petals of forget me not and eyes lingering on the singular painting he had hung up on one of the walls. You had paused with a dilated gaze, stupefied by the way fate seemed to work because you didn’t need to look at the signature to know who it belonged to you.

The art style was one that you couldn’t mistake for anything else, yet your smile had fallen from your face with enormous force as you took notice of the pictures of Soojin. You had to reason with your brain that they are close, even if you hate it but perhaps it was the fact that she holds space you never will, perhaps it was that you’re not even anything remotely close to what she is to him. You will never leave evidence of your existence behind.

Perhaps it was the fact that you and Jake do not mean anything outside the walls of his bedroom.

“Bunny?” you swivel your head around with surprise on your face as if forgotten where you were “What are you doing?” Jake asks– now freshly showered- leaning on the doorframe of his kitchen, his eyes darting over your figure rapidly.

“Making you tea.” You blink yourself out of your thoughts.

“Why? You don’t have to.”

“I know,” your smile tilts up your lips with ease, warmth that’s only ever entailed with whispers of his name “I wanted to.”

It’s only moments later when the both of you are on the couch of his living room, the entire space enveloped with darkness if not the moonlight seeping in through his open window.

“You’re awfully clingy today.” You comment as his arms tighten around your waist with dripping affection, pulling you against his chest impossibly closer and rests his chin on your shoulder. You don’t give room for yourself to waver even when he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Vanilla and cinnamon engulf his being with you.

“’m not clingy.” He mumbles, halfheartedly and with no intent for them to hold any meaning over your ears, so you don’t let them, only humming as your fingers graze the length of his arm, tracing over his veins, your fingertips leaving a trail of blossoming life behind “I’m just tired.” He adds after a while, as if his exhaustion is not a see-through flimsy excuse to have you closer, his chest pressing into your back.

“Do you wanna go to bed maybe?” you ask, concern inscribed into every stroke of your voice, as warm as the tea you had just made him and it has him smiling against your neck, evoking your smile to raise melting into a giggle “What?” you ask and when he huffs out a chuckle, yours sync with his colored pink like the flush upon your cheeks.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, hugging you tighter “I just wanna stay like this for a bit.” Your heart trashes around your chest, and you fail not to waver akin to spring air wisping through your hair in the daytime.

“We can stay like this for as long as you want.” You whisper and he hums in agreement.

As a tranquil silence settles upon the two of you, his humming continues, turning into a sweet melody that you don’t recognize evoking your curiosity from Paris to rise to the surface once again. Although it isn’t coherent singing it’s enough for your soul to perchinto a similar placid feeling akin to floating atop waters warmed by the unforgiving sun or maybe it’s simply the warmth that comes from falling in love.

“What’s that song?” you whisper, afraid to break through his tonality of serene.

“It doesn’t have a name.” he answers after a few beats of silence.

You contemplate on the urges arising to ask for more information. Your fingers itching with heedless wishes yet again, so foolishly selfish like unraveling parts of him, a heedless wish like diving into him, looking through every nook and cranny of his being, even the darkest place he wishes light never touches. You don’t really linger on why, on where this urge exactly comes from and instead your nerves take over, worried you might catch yourself too far in, so you hold your tongue instead.

Your eyes dart across the living room in rapid search for something else to talk about, as they land on the piece of art hung upon his sage colored walls and your eyes light up, reminder of the piece you share.

“That painting.” you start, and he peeks at it, looking where your eyes are glued.

“What about it?”

“It’s really pretty.” You reply, feigning ignorance as your eyes trail over the name signed on the corner.

“I bought it at one of those college expos. I don’t really care about art, but I liked this one I guess.” He explains and your lips curl up into a grin as your fingers smooth over the length of his arm.

“Why this one?”

“I guess I could see what the artist was feeling.” His voice is soft, almost getting lost in the folds of silence if not caught by your heart “and I felt the same at the time.” He continues, tone sliding even softer, abrading across the surface of your chest with warmth the same way your nails to his skin.

“What do you think the artist was feeling?” Your smile slowly melts off your face, your essence overtaken by curiosity.

The painting was darkened by colors of gray and black, leaning towards petrifying it was a figure with their head in their hands as if in the middle of an agonizing scream, a couple of hundred nails stabbed into the skin.

“Guilt.” He replies “I felt like the artist was really struggling to overcome his guilt. As if it’s a part of you that you can’t seem to shake off. A shadow that constantly follows.” He continues, tone vulnerable as if the same liability still bears his soul, as if that shadow still loiters behind him.

His answer has your chest tightening compulsorily, as your eyes flit across the splashes of paint once again the meaning comes to you the same. Unfurling from the depths of darkness you can’t help the pain of realization that settles, it floods your being with a similar laminate of guilt.

“Niki painted this.” You say, letting out a breath and Jake stills, leaning his head back to steal a look at your expression.

“Your brother did?”

“Yeah,” you answer keeping your eyes fixated on the painting, darting over every swivel of color “I never really looked at his paintings this deeply before to understand.” you let out a chuckle that lacks humor and Jake doesn’t answer but you feel his gaze on you, fits his fingers in the empty spaces between yours with a squeeze.

“He’s really talented.” He says after a few minutes with sincerity.

“He is. He’s always been amazing at everything he does.” Your gaze falls to your interlocked hands, the sight of his fingers in between yours stirs something cloyingly tender within you “I wish he didn’t have to feel that way.” You continue with a soft voice, as if unwittingly revealing the concerns haunting your mind.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not something you can take away.” Jake whispers back, his thumb brushing over your hand.

“I know.” You smile, turning your head to catch his eyes with yours and the benignity woven in them almost has you melting, the skin of your fingers craves to mesh with his.

I wish you didn’t have to feel this way.

You almost want to whisper to him, right in whatever blurry space has been built between you two.

“You’re doing everything that you could, and it's amazing.” His eyes are penetrating, filled with seas of truth that you plunge yourself into with no second’s thoughts, your heart trembles with each word, your eyes softening so marginally.

Will you

“Thank you.” your chuckle escapes you gravelly, tinting your cheeks with a blush along the way “in the past none of my partners liked how much I cared about Niki- i-it feels like no one understood” Jake listens intently, a smile twinged with incitement for your emotions to unwind, spilling with a hue of rare amenability “So thank you for saying that.”

Allow me

“I think you dated a bunch of idiots if they weren’t able to envelope your heart with the same kindness it radiates.”

A silly urge to cry takes over your being albeit no tears fill your eyes, and your lips slightly twitch upwards in a grin twined with nothing but warmth that comes from the glimmer present in his tired eyes or perhaps it’s the heat emitting from his body pressing against yours, maybe it’s in the sincerity that laces his voice so effortlessly as if peering through your veils comes as easy as breathing to him.  Whatever it is, it is in this fleeting moment that you feel no need to hide but rather strangely feeling safe enough to spill whatever substance have plagued your soul for years.

To stay

“Do you mean that?”

“That you dated a bunch of idiots? I thought that was common sense?” you roll your eyes with a chuckle, his own smile rising as you deliver a slight jab to his stomach with your elbow.

“Jerk.” His own laughter erupts with ease, stealing your heartbeat as you attempt to free yourself from his embrace, his arms tighten around you. denying you.

“Have I ever lied to you?” he whispers against the shell of your ear, and you squirm with a shake of your head “Then believe my truth this time as well.”  He continues plaiting his words with a hum, a squeeze of his arms around your middle as if he’s not the reason breathing grows harder and harder to catch. An endless chase.

By your side?

“Sometimes I feel like I barely have anything to offer maybe that’s why I end up with a bunch of idiots.” You admit after a while, hushed as if shameful of the insecurity coating your flesh “Yeonjun – my ex that cheated on me at work remember? Yeah-“you chuckle nervously, a bitter edge to your laughter as if the memory is still fresh in your mind “used to say that all the time- that there’s nothing particularly special about me.”

You’re silent for a few tantalizing minutes, your gaze turning hazy as if recollections of every painful word Yeonjun has ever muttered still surrounded you, they twirl around your mind with the same affliction.

“I wonder why do I crave to be something-“you pause with darting glances as if trying to find meaning in the gaping holes of your being until they catch his “special so bad?”

Jake’s have always known his incarnation to turn coarse, his propensity for honesty remains abiding and he never knew to sugarcoat his words, they come out harsh, sharpened like an edge of a blade. You are a paradox to his own existence, the complete opposite of him, a gentle soul with words coated in candied affection.

It’s baffling to him, how someone as extraordinary as you could feel this way.

So, he shouldn’t be surprised at the words of raising at the tip of his tongue, almost choking him with its sweetness merely because it is directed at you.

“Isn’t giving your heart away the most precious thing you could ever offer?”

“What if my heart isn’t good enough either?”

“How could it ever not be good enough when it’s yours?”

As your eyes dance around each other, his reveal nothing but pure, crude veracity. It dawns on your being so intensely you’re not sure you have even a mere moment to question the fastening beats of your heart. You’re not sure when was it exactly that your world has shrank to nothing but him. When was it exactly that chasing fleeing gazes and waiting for touches of lust upon your skin have turned into this?

“How could it not be special when every particle of your essence is you?”

You never knew comfort that comes so simple yet so vigorous with its weight, how could such a minuscule word have such a big impact on your glass heart, on your staggered breath and how could it water your hope so effortlessly?

Another seed of heedless wishes grows, venturous with desire like asking him if I gave it to you would you still think the same?

“I don’t know how you make words sound like that.”

“Like what?” he asks, even in the middle of his living room his eyes sparkle as if they hold specks of stardust, his lips twitch upwards in a smile like the glimmering moon.

You feel foolish with the transparent reverence flowing through every part of you, in the tips of your fingers and in the delicate sentiment of you. You grow sorry for the rest of the world for stealing the scintillates of the night sky, you’re in his arms and you’re awfully sorry because there’s no way for you to share.

“I don’t know how you make everything sound so magical.”

“I think you’re just soft for me bunny.”

“You wish.” You snort, your words lack meaning and more than anything power.

“Do you ever miss Yeonjun?” he murmurs after a few moments of quietness, and your surprise takes you like a storm passing by with vehemence, it has your eyebrow twitching with semblance of annoyance that you’re not sure why it filtrates through your thoughts.

You don’t expect it, maybe not when you’re on his lap and in between touches of tender affection.

“Do you miss yours?” you retort back, harsher than intended and bittered by his nonchalance.

“Sometimes.” He answers and your nails dig into his flesh lightly, not sharp enough to evoke his notice “But we ended on good terms and we’re still friendly.”

You poke your tongue in your cheek as your eyes trail over that picture of Soojin once again, you’re somewhat thankful he can’t feel the heat of your furious gaze as you glare at the unmoving picture, and yet you’re somewhat annoyed he seems unaware of your frustration the way it imbues your senses has you faltering with hesitation at an answer to give back, so you don’t. Instead, you dwindle into silence intoxicated by your rapid heartbeat and the feeling of his breath on your cheek.

It's only when your own chest starts heaving as his lips ever so slowly, softly pressing into your neck with a phantom of a kiss, almost imperceptibly. His fingers trailing under your blouse with purpose, his touch scalding hot as his fingers graze over your hipbone and your lips separate with an audible gasp.

“What?” he breathes out an amused chuckle at your response.

“I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“What were you expecting?” He whispers, his voice tinted with allure the same way his other hand travels up your jaw, denting them with his fingers as he turns your face to him, you grow breathless, stolen by how enchanting his existence remains to be.

“I-I don’t know.” You breathe out, your eyes unfocused on anything other than the soft looking skin of his lips, even when it tilts upwards in an all-familiar teasing smirk that manages to irk you each time.

The space between you grows smaller and smaller as he invariably inches forward, his exhales mingling with yours and your mouth falls open with a silent moan, his fingers – with desire emanating from them slip past the confine of your pants. Your body burns with the heat of his touch, longing colors your gaze the longer he doesn’t kiss you and his glisten with mirth as he keeps his lips atop yours, almost touching yet not close enough.

never close enough.

“For someone who pretends to be unexpectant you sure are wet.” Your face burns with a blush so deep you could only hope the dark aids in concealing it, even when Jake’s thumb is pressing onto your clothed clit and your throat bubbles with the threat of a whine.

His scorching gaze scouring over passing expression lingering on your face for not long enough, yet amply enough for his own breathing to rattle, for his own sanity to abscond, overtaken by an utter ache to have you, ache to have you falling apart it has his fingers moving on their own, with a losing battle trailing behind as he buries them in your underwear, your arousal coats his hand as it slips inside of you.

“Jake.” you fall apart as easy as the whine escaping your mouth, as easy as the groan he lets out when he slots his mouth against yours with a bruising kiss, his other hand trails down from your jaw to your throat and your heart reels.

“mhm? What is it baby?”

“I-I thought you were tired.” You mutter weakly throwing your head back on his shoulder as he works his fingers deeper into you.

“Never too tired to fuck you.”  he replies, eyes glued to the way your mouth falls open, your eyebrows scrunching up in pleasure.

Jake’s cravings seem to turn decadent whenever you’re in the picture.

It’s the same way he learns to press his cravings into your back that night, with touches and kisses that abide closer to tender love than the way he looks at you, the way you moan his name, his thumb trails over your spine with fervor, his lips press into your neck with purpose to imprint himself onto your skin, a desire for you to give him something diverting to wear beneath his blood.

“Fuck! Right there!” you moan loudly, your fingers gripping the sheets below you tightly.

“Yeah? feels good baby?” he still asks with a whisper drilling into the same spot as if you’re not falling apart with drool staining his sheets, you still nod with a whine.

“So- so good oh my god- I’m close, don’t stop!” your words are barely coherent, getting cut off by your whimpers.

“Me too baby- fuck you’re so good-“ you keen at the fallen praises from between his lips, the knot in your stomach growing impossibly tighter with the same way his grip tightens around your hips, his thrusts growing harsher, the slap of the skin sounds sinful, reverberating through the walls. A pleasurable groan escapes him at way the you squeeze around him after a particularly hard thrust.

“fuck-!" he growls fucking into you deeper, harder, faster anything to have you crying out "You’re so pretty when you’re mine.”

You’re not sure if you hear him correctly, if your mind had conjured up a couple of words to feed your delusions, convocation that they’re closer to reality than none yet your orgasm feels like it dissolves you into liquid with how hard it hits you, the sounds emitting from you are foreign to your own ears only increasing in volume when he follows with the same path, his come spilling into you.

You’re feeling hazy as he pulls out of you, the air heavy even when he kisses behind your ears with murmurs of needing to clean you up.

You have fallen silent the entire process and it’s not until the both of you had changed that he’s pulling you into bed atop his chest with a question lingering in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice soft with careful tenderness and you only nod your head with a smile.

“i’m just sleepy and tired.”

“My dick is that good?” You don’t need to look at him to know he’s wearing that same annoying expression he has whenever he teases you, a smirk and a glint in his eyes.

“Fuck off bro.” your hands react before your mind, grabbing one of the pillows and hitting him square in the face, the chuckle that erupts from his lips is otherworldly heavenly and your eyes soften, mind plagued with the words he had said earlier.

“Bro? What is wrong with you? I just fucked you.”

“No what is wrong with you?”

“A lot.” He answers and you arch a brow at him, biting back a smile when he rolls his eyes at you with endearment tinting his hands as he pulls you closer to him once again, your head rests atop his chest and you fall into tune with his heartbeat.

As he runs his hands through your strands, the both of you are quiet, something akin to a tranquil silence fills the room yet your mind races with everything that has happened the few couple of weeks, Jake remains unstable, days pass by with him saying a few words to you then fucking you only to fall asleep with the same silence between you, then other nights unfold similar like today, with you pulling effortless laughs from his lips, gentle kisses scattered on your skin.

you're so pretty when you're mine

Did he mean it? or did you imagine it? Have you finally gone mad?

Perhaps it’s that sole reason your hope climbs over every other feeling, perhaps is the heat seared onto your back with whispers of the words he muttered that have you slipping with a new devotion, one like foolishly wishing for your souls to intertwine.

Maybe that’s why you thought it would be okay for you to speak after a while.

A fatal fantasy -

“When we were in Paris.” You start with overflowing prudent, circling the air as you slightly tilt your head upwards with intent to steal a glance at him, his hum comes as encouragement for you to continue “you told me you want to love music the way you used to do but you never answered me when I asked you why.” Your voice is much quieter than before, and his body grows rigid in counted seconds, shorter than you could blink away your orgasm.

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.” He replies with a deepened sigh, tone monotone and you chew on your lower lip with evident nerves at the lack of emotions radiating from him.

“I’m not gonna force you.” you say, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking again “I know things have been tough.” You’re met with quietude from him, one that has the tips of his fingers ceasing atop the skin of your back as if warning you to tie your tongue into a knot, do not break through your vows that took you countless enticing stares to keep.

Your heart abides a trivial piece of glass, yearning for him cuts through like the light of dawn coming to life with increasing heartbeat and woven with feelings you refuse to plaster labels on. Perhaps deep down your soul seeks for everything to fall apart.

“I know you must feel very lonely with how things are. with your mom gone and then your undiagnosed ocd-“you don’t get to finish your sentence before Jake is flinching away from you.

“What?” He sits up on the bed with a furrowed brow and a fire lacing his gaze as it lands on you, the heat of his body abandoning you has you itching “Are you trying be my fucking psych?” his tone - albeit does not change in volume, it still has apparent venom tinting every syllable. It has your heart trembling in your chest with the fear of stepping in too far, tripping on a ticking time bomb that explodes with a bat of your eyelashes.

“No I just thought-“  with nerves aptitude in your tone, limbs. You sit up as well, your fingers trailing over his arm in searched comfort, a reminder that mere minutes ago he was still entangled with you “I’m just trying to help and I thought-“you stumble, on your words and on your quivering heart as you try to find the right words to say yet your cognitive facilities shut down at the disillusionment sneaking into his irises.

“You thought what?” He lets out a short solemn laugh yet long enough to have your temerity crumbling as if daring you to speak.

“I opened up to you earlier and I thought maybe you’d be able to do the same.” You clarify with a whisper, eyes widened with pure longing.

A heedless wish.

“So, you thought you could talk like you fucking know a thing about me.” he grumbles, annoyance evident in the way he pushes his hand through his disheveled hair, and you watch with a shaking heart as he trudges out the bed with slumped shoulders.

“What? No, I’m trying to get to know you, Jake.” You defend, albeit debilitated by the obstacles of ice materializing in his eyes, you follow with the sun in yours.

“By treating me like a fucking project?” He’s growing angrier, it’s so visible in the cruelty that drips from his voice, in the way his eyes widen with a scalding fire threating to take you both down.

“I don’t treat you like a project.”

“Oh, cut the bullshit yn!” he swivels around to face you and you still in your trail with a bated breath “You think I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing? We talk for one night and suddenly you’re talking as if you have the cure to all my problems! Like you can fix me.”

“I’m sorry if it came out that way.” You mutter, your irises shaking with sincerity he doesn’t get to witness, not when he’s overtaken by anger, not when fear trickles in just as intense “When I saw that you had Niki’s painting I just thought-I thought we would be able to relate to each other. That there are sides of us we could understand.” He scoffs at your words, shaking his head in disbelief and your chest tightens, as if callous hands have made their way inside you with abhorrence, squeezing your fragile organ.

“Relate to each other?” He speaks, low and more to himself with displeasure written all over his face “You didn’t even understand what that painting meant until I explained it to you yn how the fuck are you gonna understand anything about me?”

“I know but-“

“God yn do you ever just stop and think about the way you act? The things you say?” As if a monster that has been unleashed, the shackles covered in rust, and they crack with the lump forming in the middle of your throat with a threat for tears to burn your cheeks with scalding trails “Do you ever stop and think about how overbearing you act sometimes?” Jake cannot stop, he feels it in the way his blood burns as it runs through his veins “why can’t you fucking listen to me when I tell you to stop? Why do you need to push me past my limits?”

“I’m sorry maybe I worded it wrong but my goal this time wasn’t to push you.” your words are not getting through to him, instead something akin to hideousness he’s all too familiar crumbles inside of him.

“I feel fucking sorry for your brother he has to deal with this kind of shit from you on top of whatever lead him to make that fucking painting.” His tone is cold and low when he speaks you but they break through your bones harsher than anything he had ever said to you and they crack, extending all the way to your heart, forming scars on the surface he had so delicately soothed not long ago.

You almost want to scoff at yourself more than anyone, how could you be so stupid to think of yourself as anything more than trivial glass that stays unaware of its imminent fate?

Jake regrets his words the moment they leave his mouth, not because of the bitter taste they leave behind but rather over the broken look that seeps into your face as quick as he inhales. His anger for you flees, tumbles to the ground right next to your puddle of blood, woven with your heartbreak and caused by the bullets he aimed at you while he wavers, colored with remorse.

It only penetrates him deeper when you grow quiet, your eyes fliting everywhere as if trying to find meaning in his words somewhere other than his face, as if you didn’t look at him you’ll be able to find different facets of them, ones that aren’t directed at you with only for hurt to unfurls throughout every nook and cranny of you. but then your eyes dart up to him, this time your eye contact doesn’t transpires with desire nor hidden giggles from you. This time your expression completely crumbles with excruciating agony.

“That’s too cruel to say even to someone like me Jake.”

Your words come out choked despite the tears glimmering in your eyes none fall, and it feels like punishment that dawns on him right away, he blinks rapidly at you, too aware of the harsh words that he let slip. There’s real pain in your voice, albeit your pure ability to display your emotions carelessly, he had never seen you this hurt, not in this unadulterated form and he falls speechless.

“bunny,,” he’s not sure what to say, his mind empty but it doesn’t matter because then you’re harshly wiping at your eyes with your arm and in mere moments you’re turning away from him.

He doesn’t know how long he stands in the dimly lit corridor, but it’s long enough to feel the weight of his own words pressing him down until he feels close to suffocating, he stares at his palms and fragments of your broken heart stares back at him.

You should have known heedless wishes were meant to break rather than mend.

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[prettyboykatsuki]

I NEED YOU EXCITED, I DON'T WANNA FIGHT IT | Y. OKKOTSU

✵ tags ; established relationship, friends to lovers, afab +fem!reader, forward!reader, back and forth power dynamics, dry-humping, hickies / marking, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, riding. fingering, dirty talk, 18+

✵ wc ; 7.3k (good lord)

✵ a/n ; written with my beloved @princess-okkotsu in mind!! i hope i did your boy justice </3 and thank u for everything literally wouldn't have passed chem w/o you

so not used to have such little warnings on a fic. lol. title is from fire and desire by drake.

✵ synopsis ; yuta wants to do right by you which is why he's so determined to take your relationship slowly. well, he tries too, anyway.

Yuta Okkotsu is a believer of doing things the right way. 

He repeats this to himself like a mantra as he hangs out alone in your bedroom. He closes his eyes, elbows resting on the little table, face buried in his palms. Maybe it’s closer to a form of manifestation - like if he says it with enough hooplah it will mean something more than a jumble of words and syllables. 

He must clarify that he is trying to do the right thing right now. He is trying so very hard to do the right thing because Yuta Okkotsu wants to remain righteous where possible. 

It’s part of his job as a sorcerer, now well into his 20’s and more conscious of the world around him. He’s strong enough to put his money where his mouth is and experienced enough to know that trying to maintain some ethical code is part of staying alive in this business. 

And it’s not that Yuta considers himself particularly upright. His friends and colleagues often tell him that he’s a bit unhinged and hard to get a read on. His morals might not always align with greater society, but he never does something that goes against his own beliefs. A lot of which can be summarized quite easily ; anything to defend his comrades.

It really is so important for Yuta to try and be civil in these aspects. Lest he fall into something truly dark. Even he knows what he’s capable of, at least a little. 

That’s why he’s left with no choice than burying all of his thoughts of you and using every ounce of energy he has to suppress it as deep as it can go 

You know, with all the love that’s influenced his life and all of the years he’s spent  learning to be less timid - none of it seems to matter when it comes down to you and him. The logistics of a relationship and the idea of one are two very different things. When it comes to your relationship, he’s been keen in adhering to his strict timeline of milestones. First date, first hand-holding, first deep kiss. It’s a matter of honoring you - because before being boyfriend and girlfriend, you were Yuta’s comrade and companion. Before your relationship status, you're his cherished and valued person. 

So because he’s chivalrous. Because he’s romantic. Because he cares about you. 

And also because the sheer  magnitude of his desires for you perpetually leaves him in a state of distress and disarray. It’s all of the above, all at the same time. And sometimes it leaves him a little overwhelmed. 

He barely manages in his daily life but this? This is torturous. 

Being in your bedroom unprompted is destroying every ounce of self-restraint he’s built through these last three months. He’s made it through your relentless bullying without giving into his Earthly desires.

It’s just too ideal in a way, being in here. Everything feels like you. There’s pictures of your friends and family around the room. Everything has your scent. Your clothes are littered on the floor and hung over the back of your desk-chair. It’s so you and Yuta loves you and he’s not going to survive being in here despite it all.

It’s embarrassing. Yuta is not the timid teenager he once was. But for all the ways he’s good at standing his ground, his demeanor is all but worthless when it comes down to you.

You’re a few years his senior and you’ve always been a slippery character. He’s enriched by your curiosity of the world. You’re a researcher and archivist of cursed information, coming out of the Kyoto branch. You have plenty of accolades and always manage to teach him something new and come out of difficult things on top. 

Mostly, Yuta recognizes all of the good in your heart. He really thinks very highly of you.

There was an obvious passion for your work that Yuta was endeared by in the initial stages of your relationship. Plus you were easy to talk to. You’ve been a good friend to Yuta for years now, ever since you called on him to do some research on him and Rika. And, as the years passed you became closer until one night it hit him that his feelings of admiration were a little closer to something like love. 

And with big, wet tears in his eyes (and a fair bit of liquor in his system) he blubbered about his feelings for you. He isn’t sure what reaction he was expecting at the time. You were happy which was great, but there was also something so lax about it all. Yuta remembers it so vividly. The way you waltzed up to him, tucked some hair behind his ears and kissed him gingerly with all the confidence in the world. Like it mattered but it didn’t. Like nothing could be more obvious than your feelings for each other. 

“I’m pretty crazy about you too, Okkotsu-san.” 

After asking if that meant you were dating like the bumbling, lovesick fool he is - you officially began going out as a couple. And at first, it was smooth sailing. It wasn’t too different from your usual hangouts.

Eventually though, you had pointed out that it doesn’t really feel like you were dating. Suggested that maybe sleeping together would help break the ice a little. That was what started this moral dilemma. 

Being honest, it wasn’t like Yuta hadn’t considered it. What thoughts he cooked up while alone in the sanctity of his bedroom is between him and the heavens only. It was just the way you suggested it. You saying it made it all feel so real. And Yuta wasn’t sure how to deal with that. He wants to cherish you so much that he felt like he couldn’t consider your offer too lightly. 

And he told you as much, hand in yours and red-faced to which you only blew some hair out of his eyes and laughed. A simple okay, a nod, and a kiss.

Of course, if everything had been smooth sailing this would be a different thing altogether. While Yuta had declined sleeping with you too soon, you had absolutely no plans to make his life easy. He’s not sure how much of it is on purpose. Knowing you, probably a lot. You’re a smart girl, after all.

So all of your bending over and tongue kissing before going home and selfies that just border on boudoir are probably very purposeful. But he’s endured it all. He should cherish you more. He’s been determined to not give in. 

The fact he’s all but ready to blow his load over just being in your room makes him feel pathetic. And maybe he is, a little. But only for you. 

Yuta likes to think of himself as a collected individual. Really.  He knows being this worked up over something as innocuous as his girlfriends room is ridiculous. He knows he’s being ridiculous.

But he really, really wants to uphold his beliefs here. So he’s stiff, sitting with his hands clasped and holding it together just barely. 

He practically jumps out of his skin when you return to your room with a tray of refreshments. 

“Woah, Yuta. You okay?”

He turns around to look at you. A mistake, apparently. His eyes land on the sight of your bare legs before he forces himself to meet your eyes. You’re so pretty to him. Always so beautiful without any effort. 

“Huh? Yeah. Sorry, just got lost in thought.”

You put the tray down on the table in front of him before sitting on the edge of your bed - facing him. The distance between you is minimal. You reach out to pet the top of his head with the palm of your hand, scratching his jaw tenderly. Yuta feels loved by the touch. 

“You sure? Looks like you saw a ghost.”

Your genuine worry makes his spine feel like it’ll melt. He puts his hands over yours, rubbing his cheek against your palm.

“Promise I’m okay. Just—it's nothing serious.” 

“Mm. Even if it’s nothing serious, I wanna know what stuff you’re worried about, ‘kay? So tell me if you want.”

He feels unsteady but so happy. 

“Thank you, my love.”

“Yeah, of course. You wanna keep sitting on the floor or…?”

The minute you ask him, he feels the hair stand up on his neck. 

“The bed…?”

You give him a look of confusion before you break out into a knowing grin.

“Oh, I forgot. I mean to remain chaste, my liege. Just wanna cuddle a bit.”

“Are you making fun of me?” He asks, not masking the pout in his voice. 

You tilt your head to one side, leaning  back on your palms. 

“A little,” You say mischievously, shrugging “I’m used to your lifestyle of celibacy.” 

He frowns at you. “It’s not like that, I just want to—“

“I just want to cherish you because I love you and want you for more than sex yadda yadda yadda. I know. And I respect your wishes even if I think it’s silly.” You say, taking the words right out of his mouth. His frown deepens.

“It’s not silly to me.” He says, almost petulantly. At this, you grab his face in your hands which catches him off-guard. You knock your forehead against his, bent over to do it. 

“I know that too, you dummy. The point is that I’m not trying to get in your pants right now.”

He can’t help but smile, pulling away to kiss at your wrist. You giggle. 

“Well, what do you want?”

“To be wrapped up in each other like otters.”

“So romantic.”

“Right? So get up here.” 

He gives in sooner rather than later. You scoot till your back is along the wall next to your bed and Yuta wastes no more time in joining you. Your bed is crazy comfortable. Just laying it in makes him want to fall asleep almost immediately. He gets cozy  before directing his gaze to you in front of him. He feels like he’s gonna throw up and the only thing that’ll come out is his heart. You give him a look of amusement. 

“Enjoying the view?” You tease. He laughs, leaning forward to tuck his face into your neck.

“Yeah. Smells like you,” 

“So cute.” 

“Don’t know how to feel about being called cute.” He says honestly. He peers up at you and you’re giggling and he can feel his heart rate sky-rocket. You twirl a piece of his hair around your index finger. 

“You’re cute and cool and handsome. Better?” 

“Yeah. Yes.” 

“Mm,” You respond. He looks at you as your expression drifts off somewhere. He can’t take his eyes away from your face “Sorry you had to stay over.” 

“It’s fine. It’d be a shame if you didn’t get anything to look over while we were there. If you make any breakthroughs, it’d be good for Gojo-sensei.” 

“You still call him that even though you graduated so many years ago?”

He flushes slightly. 

“Force of habit. My point stands.” 

“Mhm. Thanks for being so supportive. I didn’t think it was that late, y’know? I would’ve tried to hurry if I knew,” You say thoughtfully “But I like having you over.” 

He gives you a once over as he pulls away, eyes flitting to your lips. You give him a small grin. 

“Kiss me.” 

He looks at you apologetically. 

“That’s not fair. We can’t kiss? Making out doesn’t count as intimate relations, Yuta.” 

“Okay, but it can lead to them.” 

“If it’s that serious, I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“Wait, no.” 

“Then kiss me.” 

He sighs. 

“Just kissing, okay?” 

“Okay, you monk.” 

He laughs at the comment before pressing his lips to yours tenderly. You have no such intent of leaving it that way - your hand on immediately on the nape of his neck. The softness of your tongue makes Yuta feel like there’s fizz in his head - like the water inside of him is seltzer. He thought you would at least try to give him some mercy. 

He probably shouldn’t expect that from his favorite girl. He pulls away, out of breath. A little line of saliva breaks off between you. Your grin is eye-catching, like glass in the sun. Yuta wouldn’t mind burning in the magnitude of your light. 

“Just kissing,” He emphasizes, trying to be firm. You hum, hand on his cheek. You rub your thumb on his lip tenderly, looking at him square in the eyes. He’s stronger than this, he swears. 

“We are just kissing though?” 

“Baby.” He frowns. A laugh bubbles up from your stomach and he’s so entranced by it he nearly forgets what he’s trying to convince you of. 

“Since when is making out too naughty? Teenagers do stuff like that, Yuta. We’re grown-ups.” 

“That’s the whole problem.” He says back in faux exasperation. You look like you’re going to kiss him again, but you lean into his ear instead. Your breath is warm and ticklish against his skin. 

“Yuta,” You murmur with such clear intent he feels himself break down under the weight “Can’t we have sex, hm?” 

Blood rushes down to his dick so fast he’s embarrassed. He stares at you as you pull away, a look  in your eyes that makes him want to collapse. Of course he does. He wants to have so much sex with you so often it’s starting to drive him up a wall. Is there anyone in the world other than him masochistic enough to turn down the offer? He’s doubtful to say the least. 

“I want to,” He admits. You beam and nod. Your hand slides down to squeeze his waist. He swallows thickly. 

“Yeah? Then why can’t we?” 

“I just..don’t want to rush things,” He replies with as much conviction as he possibly can. The sincerity must reach you because you soften a little “We’ve known each other for a long time. And it was already hard to get here. I just want to make sure it’s right.” 

“You’re so thoughtful,” You murmur to him, running over his hip bone with your thumb “And that makes you really sexy, you know?” 

“What if it gets all messed up?” 

“Our relationship is stronger than that, yeah. It can withstand a handjob.” 

He groans at your vulgarity before laughing. 

“I’m being serious!” 

“I know and that’s so sweet of you. But I really, really don’t think it’ll be that bad if we have sex. We might fuck like rabbits for a few days but that’s not really the end of the world.” 

He feels heat creep up his next as you nuzzle your nose against his, whispering softly. 

“And doesn’t that sound nice? Cooped up in this little room, fucking each others brains out. Just you and me.” 

He feels his dick steel against his will. He looks at you seriously, a fire in his expression. 

“You’re being unfair.”  

“Who, me? Never. I’m just telling you what I think.” 

He groans in complaint. Is this the right thing to do? He doesn’t think so. But it’s not like he doesn’t want to. He really, really wants to have sex and there’s never been such a perfect opportunity. You’re a little too good at turning him on and he’s a little too pent up to think about it more clearly. It feels like the only thing he can think about, a side-effect of this whole conundrum. There is a right way to go about this and he can’t say for certain yours isn’t the one. 

Plus the vivid picture you’ve painted of the two of you fucking in a room for hours is making his whole body burn up with lust. Fuck, the things he could do to you in all that time without it ever being enough. 

Yuta didn’t know he was aching for you so badly until he was this close to having you. 

“Baby,” He can feel how deep his voice is getting. It’s taking all of his strength to keep it in. 

“How do you want me? Tell me. You’ve been thinking about me right?”

“Always,” He confesses, staring at you without any restraint “Always thinking of you.”  

“Doing what?”

Oh. This is… 

Oh.

“I’ve never seen you naked.”

“Then you daydream about seeing me naked? How tame.” 

“It’s more than that, it’s—I want to make you feel good. You’re so good to me. And I wanna…”

You stare at him. You’re so cheeky. 

“You wanna?”

“Want you to feel good. But because of me. All because of me.”

A wave of heat passes through him. He looks at you and you look...different. You look turned on, fingers carding through his hair. Right now all Yuta can think about is how much he wants. A word with so much weight behind it he can hardly keep up. God doesn’t Yuta want you more than he’s ever wanted anything. 

The room feels like it’s hotter than it was a few seconds last. A thick tension spreads over everything like jam. Yuta is too dazed to do anything. He can only watch as you sit up. You guide him to lay on his back and climb on top of him with ease. Your thighs feel warm and soft as you straddled him, taking his hands to put them on your waist.

He slides them up underneath your shirt lightly, enough to feel the warmth of your skin on his calloused fingers. Your eyes lock as you lean forward the slightest bit, caging Yuta in with your hand next to his head. 

“So possessive,” You tease, seeing right through him like you usually do. He really is. He thought he was a little better at hiding it “Already all yours, Yuta.” 

That makes his dick twitch. You must feel it because you laugh at him about it and his hands grip even tighter. He’s gonna lose his mind, being swept up by you so easily. He’s gotten so used to forfeiting restraint. Always goes in head first because that’s how cowards have to learn to fight. But he’s forgotten how to hold back. How to suppress. 

Right now, he feels like an animal. He feels like a restless hound dog, straining against the spiked collar he’s tried to keep himself in place. What does that make you, he wonders? 

In an attempt at transparency, he looks at you and says “I want you so much.”

And your reply is about all the permission he needs. 

“Then take me,” 

Yuta heeds your words and takes. It’s easy to flip you both over from where you are. He mumbles an apology as you yelp in surprise - and he hopes you’ll forgive him for his impatience. He’s been picturing this for months now. He knows what he wants, and that’s you on your back with him on top of you - making you feel so fucking good you can’t stand it. He slots his legs between yours, hovering over you as your bodies press into each other. 

You wrap your arms around Yutas neck with ease and he leans in to kiss you passionately. Despite where you are, it’s clear you're helping set the pace. Yuta is eager to follow. It starts off slow enough but when you pull away once, you're opening your mouth enough to let him in deeper. You stick your tongue out and Yuta follows suit. Everything is so hot he feels like it’ll burn, and you taste like mint toothpaste. He likes swapping spit with you like this, the messy way the drool runs down his chin and yours like you can’t get enough for each other. 

He has no idea how long you stay like that. Just kissing is a dangerous game. The nip of your mouth and the press of your incisors in his lower lip leave him shuddering. His hard cock is pressed against your abdomen, and he can’t help himself but hump into the soft plush of your tummy. Even through the stiff material of his jeans he can feel you. 

He quivers and whimpers into your mouth but you swallow the noise with delight. Your fingers find themself at the nape of his hand reaching up, tugging at the root. You pull away to give him a chance to breathe. He sounds pathetic, he knows it, but fuck he can’t hold it in anymore. Your voice is cool and collected yet rich and heady. It feels like a salve to his raw nerves, calming to him. He closes his eyes and humps into you and everything feels like it’ll disappear. Yuta just wants to give into his base needs. He wants to be all yours as much as he wants you to be all his and everything is so tangled up in his mind. 

“That feel good, Yuta?” 

“Y-yeah. Yes. Oh, yes.” 

You giggle at him a little and Yuta looks up at you. Look at the swell of your lips and the flush and sheen on your skin. Too much, too much, too much. 

But not enough at the same time, he rubs his cock against you again, harder. 

“So pent up,” You comment smoothly and Yuta groans in agreement “Why don’t I help you a little?” 

Unsure of what you mean, he stares at you hazily. You push him off, making him stand to his knees and he watches you as your hands come to the ends of your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it somewhere. You have nothing on underneath. His mouth dries out almost completely. Bare skin of your shoulders and the curve of your neck and your chest so open. Your nipples are hard against the cool air, standing to attention.

Your b0dy is so much sexier than he could’ve conjured up in his head. The real thing doesn’t even compare, and the way you move as you take off the rest is so fucking mesmerizing. Yuta watches you take off your pants next -  you put your legs up to slide them off. 

There’s not a single part of you that Yuta doesn’t want to claim for himself. He traces the outline of your legs, the bend of your knee and the arch of your foot. He should worship you, after all - he was right for trying to restrain it before. If he had this in the beginning, he’s afraid of what kind of person he might become. He’s scared of it even now.

 Yuta is of course the type of man to get sick on his own devotion. He’s always been like that. That’s what the rings on his hands always mean. He wants to make himself sick on you. 

Nothing could be more intense than just watching you undress, he doesn't think. You toss your shorts somewhere, but leave your panties on. Yuta still has his clothes on. The only barrier between you now is a thin layer of cotton. There’s a damp spot on it. He can’t stop his hand from reaching out, pressing into it with his thumb as gently as he can. You gasp. His eyes go wide. 

“It’s okay,” You assure, a smile on your face “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

He hums, dumbstruck, and smooths his thumb over the seam. There’s something salacious about the boundary itself. The material that’s keeping him from just taking you. 

“C-can you leave them on..? For a bit?” He asks. You blink twice. Even if you’re confused, there’s not any judgment. Yuta really does love you. 

“Uh-huh. If you want me too,”  

You give him the floor this time, Yuta thinks. He takes his shirt off too. He doesn’t take his jeans off completely, though. Only unzips them, pushing them down past his boxers to give him some breathing room. And with that he’s back on top of you. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips but moves down towards your jaw. The little fluttery sigh that leaves you makes everything close in around him. Like it’s only you two in the entire world. He leaves them down your neck, down your collarbone and sternum. Warm open mouth kisses trying all over every inch of you. 

His hands shake as he reaches out for your chest. You chuckle and reach for him. Guide them to squeeze your tits firm, a cheeky look in your eye. He tries to take more confidence in it now. Gropes the fat between his fingers, palms over your nipples in appreciation. He’s entranced by it, pushing them together and teasing the hardened buds with the pads of his fingers.

“So pretty,” He mumbles, mostly to himself “You’re so pretty,” 

“You’re pretty too, Yuta.” 

He can feel a blush crawl up his skin. He ducks his head down to take your nipples into his mouth. You let out a soft moan of pleasure that encourages him to suck harder on one and use his fingers to tease you where his mouth can’t reach. Your sighs are shaky and you're gently losing your composure.

 He wants to shatter you completely. 

He grabs your thighs and encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist. And you do with his guidance, a well of desire about to burst within him. He adjusts until his cock is snug against your clothed cunt. A broken oh, leaves your lips and Yuta humps into you, shifting until he hits the sweet spot. Your voice sounds again, pitchy and melodic like a wind chime and that’s when Yuta knows he has it. 

He has you right where he wants you now. Bodies pressed into each other and so involved, so together. Yuta can feel you everywhere. He’s always been in sync with you but every notch is turned to ten. The shallow rise and fall of your stomach, the slightest tenseness in your spine that melt away when he gives you a little attention. He has you in his grasp but he wants to hold onto you tighter. He feels like he’s been struck by lightning, the way his nerves are revved up.

He focuses on where your lower bodies meet, tongue poked between his lips and furrow in his brow. Drives his clothed, hard cock against your cunt, catching the crown into your clit until you’re shaking underneath him. There’s something so primal about it that Yuta can’t take it. He can’t think clearly anymore, lost in the feeling of dull pleasure. If it feels so good like this, being inside you might be too much. You’re both naked mostly except for where you both need each other. So close in proximity that Yuta can hear each of your short pants. Erratic and almost thoughtlessly driven by one single thing, pleasing you. Feeling each other, all wrapped up together. There’s something romantic about the mutual desperation. 

Drawing out those moans as he sucks at your tits, making you feel how hard he is. How pent up and needy and fucking horny he is all for you. 

Just humping your soft, sweet little cunt through your panties makes Yuta want to risk everything he’s got. The push and pull of too much and  not enough at the same time.  It’s so fucking euphoric. Your fabric keeps wetter and wetter, and Yuta doesn’t know if it’s you or him - his pre-cum dribbling through his boxers. Mixing together so that there’s less friction than there should be, material all soaked through and tacky. 

He can feel your pussy pulse and tremble. Your spine goes stiff and Yuta pulls away to look at you. You’re beautiful. You’re on edge, in complete bliss and so fucking beautiful. 

“Oh, oh, Yuta - shit, like that. G-gonna, gonna,” 

He doesn’t know what overtakes him, but he babbles on pulling away. 

“Cum for me, please—fuck, baby, p-please, need it,” 

You cum the first time just like that. For Yuta, humping each other like two lovesick teenagers. All for him you get all broken. He can’t help but burn the image of you underneath in his head forever. He needs to see it all again. 

“Oh, that felt so fucking good,” The praise feels like it’s being injected into his bloodstream“You make me feel sho good,” 

The slight slur in your words and praise all together makes him too happy. He kisses you, sloppy and lovedrunk, tongues touching and teeth chattering. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” Yuta says with as much conviction as any one man could have. You laugh so loud it makes him smile. “I don’t wish well for anyone you dated before me.”  And you laugh again even louder. 

“You sound polite even when you’re threatening people.”  You say with nothing but affection. Yuta wants more. He wants you. Even with this quiet lull, he’s thinking about how he can get you to cum again. 

He nudges his nose to your cheek, kissing the corner of your mouth before he talks. 

“I want you to do it again,” He states, slow and steady, trying to feel out your willingness “And then I want to fuck you,”

“Wanna fuck me after you make me a mess?” You say, much more bluntly than he has. You’re not wrong “Are you a sadist after all, Yuta?”

“You look good when you’re messy. ‘s not my fault.” He replies, a little bite to his words. This delights you to the point he's proud. He does his best not to look uncool and this one time he’s succeeded. 

“Make a mess of me, Yuta,” You encourage, probably because you know he needs it. And he does “I want it.” 

“Yeah,” Comes his reply, as he pulls himself off of you “Me too,” 

The pace slows down now. The room smells of sex and Yuta can still feel the blood rushing in his ears but nothing so frantic. He lays you back, your legs undoing from behind him and resting. Yuta kisses your sternum first, a wave of emotion running through him. He puts his hands on your sides, sliding them down to meet your hips and squeezing tight. 

He kisses his down your body like it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. He can feel you curl in above him - not completely. But you seem a little astonished, and he'd be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel like he accomplished something. He works his way lower slowly, rubbing small circles into your skin as often as he can. Caressing you and committing your body to memory. He wants you to feel him as much as he’s feeling you, to feel his touch. The tension in the air is strengthened by his silence. 

If he were saying anything it’d be something like this. Like can you feel it? how much i love you? or i want all of you. Things he can’t often muster up the strength to say. He’s good with his words but not good enough to communicate all of it so bluntly. Yuta is brave in areas other than love. Sometimes your adoration makes all the words clog in his throat. This is better for him, the physicality brings him peace of mind. 

He likes how you feel. Your skin is much softer when he compares it to his, feels so different and more plush and comfortable. Yuta likes taking you in his hands and kneading the skin gently enough to relax you. Lower and lower, a trail of wet marks until he’s close to your clothed cunt. He stares at the sticky material, kissing it feather light before redirecting his attention to your thighs. 

He starts again, at the bend of your knee - and works his way inward. He’s rougher now, taking time to mark up your inner thigh with precision. Yuta can’t help himself, placing kisses in the last places his teeth bit you. He does it again and again, up along one thigh and then moving to the other until you’re covered in them. 

You’re trembling with anticipation. A sense of contentment washes over Yuta as his breath fans over your cunt, so completely soaked the fabrics a different color. His tongue runs over the material, a shameless moan of pleasure leaving his mouth. You arch your back, hands reaching to take root in his hair. The sensation of tension on his scalp makes his cock twitch. It’s salty and a little bitter, the mix of his pre-cum and yours altogether. Yuta goes to do it again anyway. The mess of it gets him excited, unconsciously rubbing into the sheets underneath him. 

“O-oh, Yuta.” 

He shivers, hands planing over the tops of your thighs as he brings him down close to him. 

“Yeah, yeah baby. Just me and you,” 

A soft laugh leaves your mouth. Yuta can feel how worked up you are. You’re quiet and tense. Some part of him wants to leave you like that waiting, but the other part of him wants to give you everything you’ve ever asked for. He gives into the latter, because that’s what he wants more. Rolls the fabric off of your legs with a deep sigh, a pleased hum. He loves the way you smell, the scent of sex and arousal mixed with the fancy soaps you keep in your bathroom. Your pussy is as pretty as you are, a sheen of arousal all along your slit. Your clit peeks through, swelled from need. Yuta kisses it without thinking. 

He starts slow. Lays his tongue flat against the seam of your cunt before dragging it up. The taste of you covers his mouth, tangy and slightly sweet - Yuta can���t get enough of you. He moans in appreciation, repeating the gesture as he pulls your pussy close. His nose bumps into your sex. He peers up at you with his lashes. You’re so pretty it makes him want to please. He repeats this over and over - licking at your clit with enthusiasm. Your clit is hard and needy, throbbing against the soft, smooth muscle of his tongue as he gains a sort of rhythm. He gauges your reaction when he tries something new, adding pressure until you’re squirming underneath him. When you start growing noisier, Yuta knows he’s hit the right pace. 

And he stays like that, your pussy soaking his mouth and chin. He adjusts himself slightly, rubbing his fingers between your folds. You let out a soft oh above him, making him want to laugh. He keeps at it, his fingers sliding far enough to tease your entrance. Your hole is twitching without him having done much at all, his middle finger teasing and prodding. 

“Don’t t-tease so much,”  You pant. 

Yuta nearly blows his load listening to you talk like that. He didn’t think you could be so cute. He listens though, pushing his middle finger into you with ease. It doesn’t take too much effort. Your insides are so incredibly wet for him. Your walls are so soft and inviting, syrupy to the touch. Yuta loves feeling them. He gives you time to adjust to the new sensation, fucking in and out slow enough that the tension melts. He gets knuckle deep with his middle finger and when it doesn’t seem like you’re tense anymore - he goes and adds another. 

He does both in tandem - and there’s a period where it’s all a bunch of sensation for you. Eventually it stops being just a feeling, turns into pleasure. He curls his fingers up against you hard, rubbing the soft and spongy area and he can feel you practically lurch forward. Your spine arches, mouth dropped open in a soft ‘o’. Another feeling of pride spreads through his chest, his whole body. He wants you to let go again just like this. While he fingers your weepy cunt and with your clit in his mouth - he wants to see how far he can push. How wet you can get before he ever gets inside. 

Yuta isn’t one for competition or ego. He’s always been easy-going. But something about you being underneath him like this, moaning for him like this - makes him feel like he should put in a little more effort to prove himself. He wants to make you feel so good, wants to see your composure break down steadily. He wants you praise him for it, to fuck each other like animals in the thereafter of your second orgasm. He pushes towards that goal steadfastly, and soon enough your body catches up with him. 

Yuta can practically feel your stomach tighten. You let out a noise, a string of mismatched syllables like a warning. Yuta only hums in encouragement, keeping his pace exactly the same. Feeling it is incredible. His fingers can feel the way your walls tighten up so hard and the tremors of the aftermath. 

Your back curves in a C as you cum, hard for him and he can feel it. He can feel you cum. He can see you, see the pleasure crash into you like a tidal wave. A second. Yuta made you cum twice in a row and he’s already itching to do it a third. 

You practically pry him off as you ride the wave of your high. You sigh deeply, and Yuta licks his fingers. He waits for your adoration, pleased to receive as you pull him up for a kiss. 

“You’re so fucking good, Yuta,” You say and Yuta feels his resolve crumble. He needs to fuck you immediately “So, so good to me baby.” 

He whimpers into your mouth. “I need you.”

You laugh breathlessly, your hand reaching between your bodies to squeeze his cock. Yuta shudders and you giggle to yourself. 

“Yeah. Bet you’re feeling pent up, Yuta. How about I treat you this time? That okay?” 

“Treat me?” 

“By riding you,” You say, smiling at him. He gets chills from the offer “You want that?” 

“Oh. Oh, fuck - please. Please?” 

You smile at him. 

“Lay on your back, sweet boy.” 

Sweet boy. He swallows thickly but does as you say. Lays back and watches you climb over him a second time tonight - this time with a much more obvious intent. He can’t stop thinking about how gorgeous he finds you - no matter how many times he sees you, it’s not easy to get used to. 

You sit up on his lap, naked and beautiful, your hangs tugging down his boxers just enough to free his cock. He hisses at the sensation of air, then moans because your hand squeezed around the shaft. Yuta watches, bewitched, by how you spit into the palm of your hands and let it drip down onto his cock. You stroke until he’s covered in it, saliva making a mess of him. When he’s all wet, you scoot forward just slightly. A hand ends up on his chest as you pull your hips up. 

Guiding the tip to your hole, you sink down on Yuta finally. He can only recognize loosely that there’s no condoms to be seen but he doesn’t find it in himself to care. There’s a slight sensation of tension that quickly gives away to nothing but slick, white-hot pleasure. You feel amazing. It’s not like anything he’s ever felt in his entire life and each time you drop down another inch - he’s biting his cheek trying not to cum immediately. That’d be such a waste, even if you’ve promised to fuck like rabbits - Yuta wants to make this last long. 

You lower yourself steadily until all of him is inside. Your expression is slightly pinched, and your whole body trembles before you finally seem comfortable. You lean forward, your hand next to Yuta’s head as you look at him. 

“Cum when you feel like you need to, ‘kay?” 

Yuta just swallows. 

Before he gets a chance to adjust to the feeling, you pick your hips and slam them back down on his cock without breaking a sweat. Yuta nearly screams, his hands immediately shooting to your hips to try and slow you down. You give him a wry grin, He almost wants to plead for your mercy. 

“Want me to go slower?” 

“Please be nice.” 

You giggle but heed his request. Repeating the motion but slower as promised, you rock yourself steadily onto Yuta’s cock. The pace is controlled and smooth, a rhythmic pass of your hips over and over. Your insides feel like they’ll melt him completely, make him liquid from the inside out. You’re picturesque riding him, tits bouncing and leaned forward enough that Yuta can see the concentration on your face. He watches you find your own pleasure in it too - somewhere half-way between grinding and bouncing that makes you look so good. He feels so incredible like this. 

He moves his hands so they’re grabbing your ass and only moves with you slightly. Not enough to change the pace, but to meet you. The room is filled with the sound of skin hitting skin - a tacky smack as your bounces hard enough to hit Yutas thighs. Something about is so vulgar, but something about is so sensual. He can feel every nerve in his body standing on edge. Your hand moves gently between your bodies to tease your clit as you ride and Yuta can’t help but be impressed by your stamina. He feels so spoiled. Feels so mind-numbingly good he wants to go brain dead while you drain for everything he’s got. 

Your expression is blissed out as you hit your stride, absolutely debauched. He can feel you again, another rush of arousal. He’s getting better at telling when you’re close. Your pussy is so sloppy all for him, because of him. So messy that it’s dripping down his cock onto his balls, all over the sheets underneath you. He can feel you clench in anticipation - the sudden spasming in the build up. 

“Gonna cum again and I want you cum right after me, yeah baby? Can you do that?” 

Yuta groans. 

“Pleasepleaseplease.” Is all he can make out. You laugh, breathy. Your pace is still the same as you rub your clit. The third time you cum is less intense. It’s a shorter wave, a softer sort of orgasm that seems to ease you more than it does anything else. Even still, you clench around his cock hard - getting so much wetter than you were a minute ago. 

It’s in the tremors that Yuta finally feels in touch with himself again. He loses himself completely. Finally giving into the sensation that’s been drowning him, He feels it in his entire lower body. Every atom of him finally catching up to the high of the release. It’s so intense when he opens his mouth nothing comes out. His eyes shoot open then go back closed. The coil in his stomach loosens more slowly at first than all at once, like a car crash. When Yuta finally cums he sees nothing but white stars in his vision. He can’t scream, can’t speak - so he holds onto you tight and finishes to the sound of your gentle coaxing. Your voice is shot hoarse as you coo to him.

“That’s it baby, cum for me. That’s it, there you go.” Echoes around in his head. Cum spurts out of him, thick and hot in your walls and he doesn’t even try to pull out as he goes completely limp underneath you. 

When he opens his eyes back up again, you're both just as ragged as each other. Yuta can’t stop himself from laughing. He hugs you tight to his chest as you lay on top of him - naked bodies and tangled limbs. 

“I love you,” Yuta says blearily. You laugh. 

“I love you too, Yuta.” 

__ 

After you and Yuta manage the energy to shower, you find yourselves back in bed. It’s late when you’re finally ready to sleep, being in the same positions you were before. Only this time with new sheets. 

Yuta lets you into his arms, wrapping them around you as you nuzzle into his chest. 

“So. Was it worth breaking your rules?” 

Yuta can’t help but break out into laughter at your question. He nods his head, a flush on his expression. 

“Yeah. Yeah it was.” 

[isalisewrites]

A Deep Dive into JKR's Terrible, Amateur Writing - Part One

Welcome to my new series, where I will prove to you, dear reader, that J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series and resident Twitter TERF, is actually a very, very poor writer.

And when I say 'poor writer,' I'm talking about her prose, her sentence structure, and her scenes. I am not going to discuss anything about the HP world nor the plots of the books.

This is all about the nitty gritty in the craft of writing itself.

Disclaimer for all readers: I'm going to sound very confident in my posts. I'm going to be working under the assumption that I'm a better writer than JKR. Because I am. My apologies if this rubs you the wrong way. You're just witnessing two and half decades of experience with the intensity from a neurodivergent who is hyperfocused on her special interest. I didn't just learn how to create stories; I learned the craft of writing to a minutia of details.

After years of being beaten down by others, I will no longer tolerate that.

I will be using my writing to compare with hers to make some of my points. Some of what I say in these posts could be considered stylistic choices. However, in my humble opinion, most of this is a difference of skill, which can be learned. Yes, everything I'm going to teach and cover in this series can be learned. There's no 'talent' here. You can learn how to become a better writer right here and now. You only have to understand the craft of writing and sentence structure to better improve your prose and scenes.

I don't have fame and money.

I don't need them to teach you how to write better than JKR.

You're free to disagree with my stances about this and about everything I cover, of course. But if you're a writer, you might gain some insight from this post and I sincerely hope you are enriched by my efforts in this. I spent quite a few hours on this post. Helping others become a better writer than JKR is one of the greatest contributions I can give to society.

Thus, take what resonates and leave what doesn't.

I have stated before: JKR's writing is bloated in the wrong places, underwritten in others, and the prose is poor. These problems show up in all of her HP books.

Buckle up, my writing friends. Grab a snack. Hydrate. Let's begin.

Class is in session.

In this post, we're going to dissect a page from HP4.

There's so much wrong with this page and the three pages of this scene overall. So much to go over. Bullet points I'll cover from this page:

Disconnected Dialogue Lines

The Great Sin of Adverbs

Too much fucking dialogue!

Wrong focus altogether in this scene

Out of POV writing

First point. This is a huge ongoing issue I see in all of the HP books. There are a lot of disconnected dialogue lines, which become confusing over time. This could be an issue of the publisher, but it's still a problem. In the middle of this page, we have:

Sirius hesitated. "I've been hearing some very strange things," he said slowly.

Wait, wait, wait. Who said this? Listen, I know. I know it's Sirius. However, this is an improper placement on the page and can become confusing because Harry also goes by he/him pronouns and he's also in this scene. While the dialogue here suggests Sirius is talking, it could easily be misinterpreted if there were other characters or if he said something that Harry could've just as easily said.

To make this dialogue more clear for the reader, it should go as follows:

Sirius hesitated. "I've been hearing some very strange things," he said slowly.

Second point. JKR is an adverb sinner, a criminal. Jail. "Do not pass go; do not collect $200." Arrest her for these blatant crimes, please, for the love of god.

Look, I love adverbs. They're great. Don't fucking listen to anyone who outright demonizes them (including your huffy, uppity literature professors). Adverbs are the seasonings of writing. You season your food; you also need to season your writing when the case asks for it.

However...

Adverbs should always be used sparingly when connected to dialogue tags. The setting in this scene is: Harry is in the Gryffindor Common Room at night crouched in front of the fireplace where Sirius is in the fire in a floo call. I read through the whole scene, though I've only shown one page here.

Harry says a line of dialogue 'slowly' three times and Sirius says a line of dialogue 'slowly' two times.

The same adverb 'slowly' is used FIVE FUCKING TIMES IN THREE PAGES.

I want to scream, not gonna lie here. Set this adverb on fire!

What does this adverb do for us in this conversation? What is so important that we have to be told that five lines of dialogue were said slowly? What do they contribute? Spoiler alert: nothing. What are their facial expressions? Harry is 14. He's exhausted since it's well after 1am or so and he's burdened with the new knowledge of dragons for the first task. He's kneeling in front of a very hot fireplace. There's fire fumes and smoke, potentially. Is he fidgeting? Is he yawning? Rubbing his eyes? Bouncing a leg? Is he picking at the carpet or rug?

Harry is a tired, burdened child.

Show me this!

Now I'm not saying that you can't use adverbs in your dialogue tags. There's a huge difference between "he said softly" and "he whispered." It's about balancing the moment when an adverb says just enough versus an adverb replacing well needed scene enrichment. Let's compare this with a section from my HP time travel fanfiction, Terrible, But Great, Chapter Thirty.

Dumbledore nodded at Monty, pocketing his wand. “Mr. Potter.” “Lo, Professor,” said Monty, pout gone, but still a watchful light in his gaze. “Is there a problem?” asked Dumbledore in a mild tone. Ice slipped in between Tom’s ribs, piercing his flesh. Monty tilted his head. “No, sir.” Oh, but Tom knew better. He could see through that innocent facade. The man could’ve been a Slytherin for how much he was cataloguing every little detail, from Tom’s appearance, to the content of the selected books, and to the supplies of ink, quill, and parchment scattered on the surface of the table. Tom masked the raw, whirling feelings in his chest with a well practiced blank, emotionless expression. He willed himself to hide.  “Nothing at all, sir,” said Tom lightly. “Young Mr. Potter was regaling me about his friendship with Miss Malfoy.” Monty glanced at Tom, brows furrowing. Those blue eyes were piercing, filled with suspicion. “Was he now?” Dumbledore said; though his tone was still without direct accusation, Tom could hear the hint of it. “Then, may I ask, why a silencing charm was necessary for such a benign conversation?” Tom wet his lips. His throat was dry. “I thought it wise to avoid disturbing others in the library.” “I am awfully loud,” said Monty with a sage nod. “Ah. A noble intent. However, it is not an appropriate use of magic in the library,” said Dumbledore, his gaze firm as it bore down on Tom. “Ten points from Slytherin. I think it’d be wise to take your studies to your common room, Mr. Riddle.” “Yes, sir,” whispered Tom.

I only used "said Tom lightly" once in this section to show Tom attempting to be unaffected by Dumbledore's interference. I did not dialogue dump information in giant chunks. I did utilized actions tags versus adverbs, like Monty tilting his head or Tom licking his lips. I suspect that if JKR had written this scene, she'd have used lines like:

"No, sir," said Monty curiously.

or

"I thought it wise to avoid disturbing others in the library," said Tom nervously.

The adverbs that JKR's uses add nothing to her scenes. They're just thrown into them without a thought. Did she even reread this scene after she wrote it? I cringe in agony if I use an uncommon word more than three or four times in an entire 4,000 to 7,000 word chapter, let alone the same adverb five times in three pages. Good grief.

There are two other adverbs used in this page, hastily and bitterly. Hastily does nothing for the scene and is connected to another issue, but I'll go over that in the end. However, bitterly is one of the adverbs I'd keep. It gives us a glimpse into Harry's feelings here. We need more of this, but we got nothing.

Thus, the overuse of adverbs in JKR's dialogue detracts and steals so much from the scene.

Third point: there's too much dialogue and no description whatsoever. Again, the adverbs are a pathetic attempt to give us something, but they're thrown in there without a damn forethought. We're missing the crackle of the fire and the smell of it. We're missing Sirius' facial expressions. We're missing Harry moving around on the floor, fidgeting, yawning, rubbing his eyes, feeling the heat of the fire, bouncing his legs, picking at the rug, something, anything, etc.

The dialogue is bloated with a terribly boring conversation. It's just endless dialogue with nothing else. No, it's awful. Welcome to the fourth bullet point. This scene focuses on the entirely wrong point. This scene is 100% a plot device and it's terribly done as well. It's three pages about Karkaroff being a Death Eater--oh no he might be trying to kill you, Harry, aaaaaa--and something about Bertha Jorkins being near Voldemort's last location. Meh. Who cares. Somebody has been trying to kill Harry in every book thus far. This isn't a new development, sweetie.

We been done know this, okay? Come on.

This is a stilted, unnatural conversation between Harry and Sirius. It's not realistic. It's not normal. Telling Harry about the Karkaroff's past is boring and does nothing for him. One line, maybe two, for Sirius to say, "Hey, keep an eye out for Karkaroff. He's an old Death Eater." Done. End of Karkaroff information. And cut Bertha Jorkins out altogether. I'm sorry, but why the hell are we talking about a dead woman to a 14 year old kid whose biggest problem at the moment is dealing with a jealous friend, school ostracization, and a giant fire breathing lizard???

These points are important to the plot, but they're not important to Harry.

The plot isn't important. No, it's not.

Harry is the POV character.

Harry is the single most important aspect in every scene and should be treated as such.

The plot should weave around Harry, slowly revealing itself to both Harry and the reader. Harry should not be the weaver of the plot. He should not be used in plot devices.

Do you know what part of the conversation was summarized in the prose between Harry and Sirius in a single paragraph versus the three pages about Karkaroff?

Harry talking about how no one believes him about not putting his name in the Goblet of Fire. About the school hating him. About Ron, about his betrayal and his jealousy. About Rita Skeeter. About seeing the dragons as the first task. These are all important to Harry. These all are causing pain to Harry's heart right now. Somebody give this child a hug, please.

We missed out on exploring Harry's feelings here. The author skips the MOST important part of the conversation, what could've been a deeply emotional, either positive or negative, conversation between Harry and Sirius.

Oh, this scene could've been so good. It could've been amazing. There are so many paths that could've been explored here, too.

We could've had a callous Sirius, who doesn't notice Harry's state of being, and just goes on and on about nothing of importance where Harry clams up. Or we've could've had a comforting Sirius, who attempts to give Harry some actual advice about his friendship with Ron. We could've seen Harry opening up in his body language, connecting with this parental figure in his life. We could've heard a story of Sirius' time as a kid at school with Harry's father and the marauders.

We were robbed of an important moment between Harry and Sirius.

Instead, the author puts the focus on the red herring 'foreshadowing' of Karkaroff. What a waste. She's trying to put suspicion on him, rather than Moody/Barty Crouch Jr., the real Death Eater in disguise. Again, who cares. It's not about them. It's about Harry and how his experiences are affecting him. It's about how he reacts to them.

This scene is a waste of time and paper. It's empty of emotion and movement/flow. It's just there for a set up and it's glaringly obvious during a second read of the book.

When I say, "The writing is bloated and underwritten at the same time." this is what I mean. We're focusing on the wrong things here.

Fifth point. JKR breaks the POV character with the following line:

"--and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm," Sirius said hastily, seeing Harry about to speak, "but...

Harry is the POV character. Sirius 'seeing Harry about to speak' should NOT be occurring in the prose whatsoever. To fix this with the bare minimum of effort for this poorly written dialogue line:

"--and reading between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts--" Harry opened his mouth to interject, but Sirius said hastily, "Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm, but..."

I wouldn't write these lines like this, by the way. I just don't want to rewrite this. It's a poor paragraph overall, but this is an example of returning the POV back to Harry. Sirius isn't 'seeing' anything anymore. Harry is doing an action and Sirius reacts to his action.

Breaking POV is a rule that can be occasionally broken, but should be done so with intent and purpose. I'm pretty confident when I say that JKR probably had no idea that this was a mistake on her part in the prose.

All right then.

We have come to an end of Part One in this series. We have dissected a single page and a single scene in JKR's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. The page in question is 333 should you wish to look it up and study the scene yourself.

More to follow because I have lots of pages to go over. This will definitely be series, ah dear.

And so, please do the world the greatest of favors and write better than J.K. Rowling. I promise, it's not that hard once you see the differences.

Until next time.

Isa

[astronicht]

Hi I hope this isn't presumptuous, but so, that post you made about Tolkien making the lads leave their weapons outside the hall and CS Lewis thinking the hall was gonna get burned down by a lady who also wanted to kill herself... what's the historical precedent for that? Is there a trope in medieval lit where people like... do that? I ask because uh. I am obsessed with Children of Hurin and there's a scene where that like, happens. And I'm obsessed with that scene, and would love to know if there's like, cultural/mythic context that would enrich my knowledge!

OH BOY, sorry I'm getting to this late, it's been uhhh a summer, but one, this is a very good question!! And two, yes there is absolutely precedent, particularly in early medieval literature, and high medieval literature set in the early medieval (circa 500-1100 AD) past. I'll let someone else debate how often people actually historically locked their enemies into a hall and burned them, but especially in Old Norse literature (and if Fellowship felt like it leaned a little more on Old English literature, Two Towers, where Eowyn appears, felt a little more Old Norse) this is common. Off the top of my head, you've got many Icelandic family feuds ending in burning the whole family in their hall, like Njal's Saga (Old Norse), Attila the Hun dramas (yeah he's a big guy in the burning halls circuit, but actually not in the way you might expect) like his cameos in Volsung Saga (Old Norse) and Nibelungelied (Middle High German), and my vague recollection of a few Irish and Welsh versions that no search engine is giving up for me right now.

This, predictably, got long and slightly off topic.

Disclaimer: As usual, I should say I come from an Old English-centric background, and Old English literature is actually notable among all its neighbors for not burning down too many halls. Second disclaimer, all links are not proper citations, they just go to wiki.

Hall-burning in literature is, to my understanding, part of the concerns of a few early medieval cultures in which revenge is not only expected but in many cases legally reinforced and codified, and one in which conflicts could spiral to engulf -- figuratively, or literally and in flames -- entire families. Many medieval Icelandic sagas are focused on this exact type of destruction of whole families or friendship/community units. Most relevant of these to Eowyn, Two Towers, and the vibes of Edoras (since alas I am only partway into RotK and can't speak to Children of Hurin yet!) is Volsung Saga, which is set on the Continent, not Iceland, and actually has to do with Attila the Hun. As mentioned before, an incredible amount of stuff turns out to have to do with Attila. We will come back to him!

So, on the particular post you're talking about, a few people iirc have replied pointing out that the hall in TT is clearly supposed to be based on a hall from Old English literature, namely the hall in Beowulf, which famously did not actually get burnt down. And that's all true! I was not posting with much nuance; I was mostly having a joke at the expense of CS Lewis. However, I was also referencing a very very common trope in Old Norse/early medieval stories, and I personally think JRR was as well (AND I think Beowulf was also very consciously referencing the exact same motif anyway) (no one has to agree with me, a tumblr blog, on any of these points).

The thing about the hall when our heroes approach is that the scariest damn thing in that hall is Eowyn. Certainly not every hall-burning story requires a woman with no other recourse to set the fire (in fact, the "warrior band approaches unknown hall which might have a grudge against them" is a trope that can get you killed in a pretty homosocial environment, as I guess Aragorn at least was aware, being a big reader). Still, the presence of a woman who is swiftly running out of options does fit what I'd consider one of the or perhaps The best known version of the early medieval burning hall trope: Gudrun, who shows up in at least a dozen different texts in both the Scandinavian and the German language traditions, including Volsung Saga, a text which itself often gets paraded around as the basis of lotr (which I'm sure it is, in that JRR appears to have simply and very fairly based lotr on every piece of early medieval vernacular literature I can think of).

In a portion of Gudrun's story (which of course changes a bit in each retelling), after her first marriage she is unhappily married to Atli, who is none other than our main man Attila the Hun. After Attila kills her brothers for reasons (in one version, her father), seeing no other way to take the necessary revenge and no other way out, she kills the two sons she had by him, serves them to Attila for dinner, has Attila killed, and then sets fire to the hall with everyone in it. After this, she attempts to drown herself.

The self-destruction of this act is a really important beat, and has only gotten more-so as a comparison to Eowyn the further I've read into RotK (currently, I'm at the houses of healing after merry and eowyn take on the witch king). It's a lot clearer in the book than the films, for me, that Eowyn going off to battle was not so a straightforward empowering and/or freeing move, despite allowing her some agency, but more the one path she saw as available to her with which to die with honor (which was pretty much exactly what Gudrun was facing as well). Like Gudrun, whose first husband was a great hero but has died, Eowyn's romantic choice is a hero who is presumed dead (sorry Aragorn they did Not believe in your ghost skills). In fact, in some versions Gudrun does put on armor and fight with her brothers before they're killed. She kills Attila with her own hand, with the help of another man who needs to avenge a blood feud against Attila.

So while Eowyn didn't get forced into marriage to Attila Wormtongue (with apologies to both historical Attila and that one historical skald also called Wormtongue who was reportedly hot) and burn the whole place down, she's still trapped, and like Gudrun chooses destruction alongside her household.

Reading her arc feels so much like watching Tolkien write a fix-it for Gudrun. What if she got this one little chance, and this one other little chance, and this one more -- tiny little shifts in the narrative that allow her to get out, and not through fire, and not through death.

Anyway, this got away from me. I hope it added some context to the Children of Hurin arson case! Thanks for the ask

[russellsppttemplates]

A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)

There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it

Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".

"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.

"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".

"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.

Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.

The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.

You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.

On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.

"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".

Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.

"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".

"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.

"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.

"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.

"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.

"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.

"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.

When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.

"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".

"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.

"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".

"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.

"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.

"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.

You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.

Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.

When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.

"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".

Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.

"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".

He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.

"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.

"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.

"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".

"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.

"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".

"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.

"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".

Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.

After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.

"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.

"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.

"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".

"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.

"I suppose I do", he blushed.

"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.

Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.

"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.

"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".

"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.

"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.

"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".

"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.

"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.

"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".

"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".

You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.

"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.

"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".

"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.

"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.

"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.

"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.

"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.

"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.

"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.

.

Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.

"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".

"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.

Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.

"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.

"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.

"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.

"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.

"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.

"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.

"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".

"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.

"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.

"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.

"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".

"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.

"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.

"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.

.

After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.

"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.

"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.

"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.

"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.

"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.

"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.

"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.

"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.

"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.

.

"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.

"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.

"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.

Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.

"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.

"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.

"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.

"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.

"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.

"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.

You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.

"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.

Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.

"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.

"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.

"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".

"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.

"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.

"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.

"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".

"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.

When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.

Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.

"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.

Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.

"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.

"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.

The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.

"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.

You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.

"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.

"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.

The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.

"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.

"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.

"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.

"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".

"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.

"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.

"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".

"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.

"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".

"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.

[daisyofwaterdeep]

Just gonna start of saying I LOVE your drabbles - especially big fan of what you’ve written about Gortash as of recently :D could I humbly request your thoughts on how Gortash might try to win over a particularly stubborn (gn) tav/durge? Perhaps with some… questionable consent towards his methods 😌

Gortash/Reader (reader is gender neutral with a vagina) Tags: NSFW, dry humping, dubcon, manipulation, fingering TW: sexual assault, noncon, sexual violence, kidnapping, descriptions of violence and gore, object insertion

A/N: kinda went ham on this one...please be mindful of the tags!

'Conquest'

Gortash had handpicked you as his assistant. As soon as he saw you, some nobody helping with the armory in Wyrm's Rock, he gestured to his advisor and demanded to have you brought in for briefing.

At first it was based solely on your looks--having an attractive assistant around to fuck on a whim would be great for stress relief. But as he watches you, he detects a defiant shine in your eyes, a sort of "just try to mess with me" sort of attitude in the way you carry yourself that draws him in.

As he sits you down and informs you of your new post, he gets a better reading on you. You're guarded, surprisingly so, and even as he offers you a pay raise for a far less cumbersome job, you don't look at him with gratitude-- only caution.

Most wouldn't hesitate to blubber out thanks and praises at such an opportunity, but you...you seem to know that there's a catch. That nice things don't just fall into one's lap. He likes that cleverness about you.

As much as Gortash enjoys an easy lay, this is far more fun. Like sexual enrichment-- working for his reward.

It's going to be a challenge and a delight to fuck you.

~~~

Gortash lets you settle into your job before making a move. Nearly a month passes before he decides it's time to test the waters.

You approach him as he's reading over a letter at his desk.

"I'll be heading home soon. Is there anything you need before I go?"

He hums to himself, pretending to think as he sets the paper to the side and leans back in his chair. "Hmm, no, nothing comes to mind." He stops, gives a short laugh, then adds, "Well, a blowjob wouldn't be remiss."

The look you give him is adorable. Pretty lips parted, eyes wide, and an almost immediate pinkening of your cheeks. Gortash wishes he could get your expression painted so he could enjoy it at his leisure.

"I--" Your lips move soundlessly for a moment before finding your voice. "I c-could see if Sharess' Caress makes house visits."

Gortash waves his hand in the air and laughs again. "That was a tasteless joke, my apologies." He gets up from his chair, stretching his back out with a small grunt, "However, I do appreciate the lengths you would go to for my sake."

You incline your head politely, cheeks still rosy. "Of course."

"But I will say, if you ever decide to treat me to a bit of...stress relief, I'd rather it be sourced from within the fortress." He holds his hands out in a grand gesture, "I have a reputation to uphold, after all."

You shuffle on your feet, "Makes sense...I'll keep it in mind."

"Wonderful." He mirrors you with a polite head nod of his own. "Now, don't let me keep you. Go enjoy the rest of your day."

As soon as you leave, Gortash's shoulders slump and he holds onto the back of his chair. Damn. Part of him was really hoping that would work. It would have been too easy of a victory, sure, but also.... a blowjob really does sound quite nice right now.

~~~

"Are you finished with these?" you gesture at the stack of books perched on the edge of Gortash's desk.

He looks up for only a moment to cofirm before going back to his work, "Yes, you can put those away."

He move his arm out of the way as you pick up the massive stack and begin carefully navigating to the bookshelf across the room.

The quiet shuffle of you putting them away and the scratch of his quill on parchment fills the room for a time, but when you let out a soft noise, he can't help but divert his attention.

There you are, on the tips of your toes, pressed against the shelf, trying to slide a book into it's high home but failing by a whole inch.

Gortash is out of his chair and slinking up behind you before he can think better of it. And when he does have a chance to think, he's already looming behind you, close enough to smell the shampoo in your hair. He decides that this is a good idea, actually. He had dipped his toe into the waters last time and nothing came of it, so maybe it's time to really jump in. He tells himself that it's merely seizing an opportunity for his overall plan--his overly eager and half hard cock has nothing to do with it.

You squeak as he presses up against you, outstretched arm beginning to come down, but Gortash is quick to grab your hand and brings the book back up. He slides it into place easily, then lets the tips of his gauntlet graze down the length of your arm before moving his mouth near your ear.

"It looked as if you needed some help."

The near whisper of his voice ghosting along your skin gives you a shiver, one that Gortash can feel run through your entire body.

"L...Lord Gortash?"

Your voice matches the same quiet of his own--it's nervous, yes, but still private, confidential. You aren't necessarily trying to stop him from what he's doing.

And if you aren't going to stop him, then he sure as all the hells is going to continue.

He lets out a soft, satisfied breath against your cheek as he presses his hips more firmly against your ass, knowing full well that you can feel the stiffness of his cock. You let out a small gasp but otherwise stay still, so Gortash indulges further, his hands dropping to your hips and he sets into a slow, deliberate grind.

He wonders what's going through that pretty head of yours right now. Are you scared you'll lose your job if you stop him? Are you surprised that he wants you? Have you been waiting for him to make a move like this? Are you disgusted, infuriated, turned on? The thoughts crowd his mind as the deliciously inadequate friction has his cock throbbing, his lips brushing over the curve of your neck in something nearing a kiss.

If he takes it further, what will you do? Will you push your ass back into him, begging to be taken? Or will you finally find your voice and demand for him to stop?

Gortash brings his hands forward, fingers already finding the cool metal of your belt buckle, enraptured by the flutter of the tendon in your neck, cock jerking and sticky as precum oozes and smears in his pants--

A knock comes at the door.

In an instant Gortash is two paces away from you, falling easily back into his airy persona just as the door opens and a worker comes in. He shoots a look at you, still standing where he left you but pretending to straighten the books with stiff, jittering movements. He silently applauds your efforts as the worker approaches with a small bow.

"My lord, your guests have arrived."

Damnit. He had completely forgotten about his afternoon meeting. Part of him-- a very hard, throbbing part-- considers postponing, if only for 15 minutes.

But of course he can't do that.

With his blood still running hot, Gortash follows the worker out of his study and into the hall, mentally cursing the inopportune timing all the while.

~~~~

He needs to rethink his strategy.

A night of cooling off and masturbating has allowed him to think more clearly. The stunt he had pulled was fun, sure, but it's not what he wanted.

A few glasses of wine and some brainstorming through the night finally led him to what he does want-- for you to fall for him. For you to be grateful for his touch. He wants you to feel downright terrible for just how bad you want him. No, no want. Need. And he's concocted the perfect scenario for such a thing. It'll take a bit of elbow grease and careful planning, but that's where he really excels.

The first step of his plan starts as soon as you come in for your daily duties. He's usually already nose-deep in work when you arrive, but today he's standing by with a smile, waiting for you.

"Ah, perfect timing." He raises a finger and dabs it at you, putting on a charming smile. "We need to talk before you go about your duties."

You don't look particularly thrilled with the idea, but your face says that you expected as much. It's time for him to put on his show.

His smile falls with his voice, "I apologize for what happened yesterday. It was entirely inappropriate." He lets a soft edge of weariness creep into his words as he holds out his hands, "I'm tired. Overworked. And I admit that I've grown used to relying on you in stressful times such as these." He waves his hand and furrows his brow, "But that's no excuse to do such a thing to you." And now, a sorrowful expression paired with a gold-gilded hand over his heart. "If you would like to resign from your post, I'll ensure you are handsomely compensated. But if you stay, I can promise you, such a thing will never transpire again."

A rousing performance, he must say. Even if your face didn't betray your forgiveness-- which it does-- he knows he has you in the bag.

You shuffle on your feet, hands clasped in front of you, "I appreciate the apology."

Gortash sighs with a soft, relieved smile, eyes still trained on you as you work out your next sentence.

"I'd...like to stay."

"Thank you." He feels a predatory gleam threaten to sneak into his expression as he bows his head. "I truly don't know what I'd do without you."

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

And now, onto the fun part.

~~~~

"Everything went according to the plan, I presume?"

"Oh yesss," The banite grins wide, his yellowed teeth as much of an affront as his breath. "Got 'em in there for ye, all nice and ready. Put up a bit uvva fight, all squawkin' and squallin' at first, but the pretty lil' thing's calmed down some." He jerks his thumb to the metal door behind him. "Been on guard duty while the other two 'ave their fun."

Gortash is grateful for the falling night that hides the darkness that crosses his own face, though his voice stays just as cordial.

"Oh? What sort of fun?"

"Just tossin' em about, really." The banite looks around the empty dock before shuffling forward, a wicked glitter in his beady eyes, "Arnie found some nice rocks-- pebbles really," The man snickers, "We've been stuffin' em up in the pretty thing. Seein' how many can fit." He puts his hands up before adding, "Ah, but no sex stuff, like ye said. Made sure all three of us kept our britches on."

"I see."

Gotash steps forward and with one swift jab of his hand upward, slices the man's carotid artery with the tip of his gauntlet. The banite sputters and clutches at his neck, hot gushes of blood spurting from between his grimy fingers as his eyes go wide and his mouth gapes wordlessly. Gortash had planned to dispose of the men when their role was through out of necessity, but now it's out of anger.

"Perhaps you'll learn to follow directions in your next life."

Gortash grabs the man by the collar--the other side, so as not to filthy his clothes with the pig's blood, and yanks him to the edge of the dock. The man's floundering and uneven footing does the rest of the work for him. A large splash in the dark of the water, a bit more struggling, then nothing but the sound of the sea.

As pissed as he is...this could work. It could work damn well, in fact. His mind is already churning, reevaluating the situation and turning this error to his advantage.

With a new plan in mind, Gortash takes in a deep breath and opens the door.

Two lanterns illuminate the warehouse, only supressing the darkness in a single corner. And there you are, only visible as a pair of bare legs on the stone floor, two men on their knees and obscuring the rest of you.

Gortash has always taken pride in the control he has over his emotions. But in this moment, he lets that control go completely.

A swift end is made of the men with a few brutal jabs of his claws. They try to stumble to their feet and grab at their weapons, but the blood pouring from their gurgling throats is too heavy of a flow, and all too soon, they collapse to the floor, dead.

With that out of the way, he finally gets a look at you. Even if he's beyond annoyed at the hunks of waste he's just disposed of, he does have to applaud them for their work. You look stunning-- Completely bare, hands tied behind your back, legs splayed open, face tear-streaked and eyes terrified. He's grateful for the terrible lighting, because his cock stiffens immediately at the sight of you.

"What happened?" Gortash falls to his knees by your side, "Are you okay?"

"Th-they," Your voice is virtually a croak, thrown out from your crying and yelling. He watches as you swallow roughly before trying to continue, "They a-ambushed me. As s-soon as I opened the door, they--"

Your words waver as despair threatens to take you once again, so Gortash leans down, snaking an arm under your back.

"It's alright darling. I'm here now." He shakes his head, "Gods, what was I thinking, sending you here alone...?"

He helps you sit up, noting the way you jolt and whimper, your legs unable to close. He hasn't dared to venture his eyes down just yet, but it seems they did a number on you.

Another slice from his gauntlet releases the rough rope that binds your hands and you bring them forward slowly, shoulder sockets seemingly tender from being forced behind you for so long. As you rub at your chafed wrists, Gortash unfastens his cumberbund and quickly shucks off his coat, draping it across you.

"Th-thank you," you sniffle, clutching the coat to your chest.

"Of course." Gortash places a gentle hand on your back, "Let's get you out of here. Are you able to walk?"

You had been slowly regaining your composure, but your face crumples at his words, fresh tears cascading down your cheeks.

"Th-they put...inside...m--"

Your sentence ends on a soft wail as you bury your face in his jacket.

"Hush now, it's alright." Gortash slides an arm under your knees and carefully picks you up, loving how you so easily wrap your arms around his neck, even as your body stiffens in discomfort. As he adjusts your weight in his hold, you gasp and he hears the distinct soft patter of a single pebble hitting the stone between his feet.

There's a large crate nearby that he gingerly perches you on the edge of. He makes sure you've got a good hold of his jacket before grabbing one of the lanterns and setting it nearby.

"I'll fetch a doctor--"

"No," You cut him off, eyes going wide as they flit over to the dark masses of the men, "P-please, don't leave me."

"Then I won't." He gently places his hands on your shoulders, forcing you to look up at him. "I won't leave, if that's what you want. But that means I'll have to care for you here."

He can see it written all over your face. The fear, the shame, the humiliation-- but also the relief. The trust. The men that had tormented you are dead and cooling in the shadows of the warehouse, and your savior is standing in front of you, eyes earnest and full of concern. He sees the way you want to tell him not to look, but also the desire to be cared for.

Gortash drives it home with a gentle smile and his soft, confident words. "You needn't worry anymore. I'm here now."

And just like that, you're his. Your bottom lip quivers but you nod shakily, raising the coat up to your mouth and spreading your legs, your knees coming out from either side of the dark fabric.

"Good," He says, voice hushed and calm even as he kneels down in front of you, his blood thundering in his veins. "As wide as you can."

With bated breath from the both of you, Gortash grabs the end of his coat and pulls it up, gently placing the length of it in your lap.

Mud is matted in your pubic hair and smeared on your inner thighs, but even still, he can smell the distinct musk of you. And with your legs wide as they are, your labia is spread, showing the soft pink folds of your vagina, also streaked with grime. His cock engorges fully as he gently grabs your thighs and pushes them open just a bit further and sees, with a rush of twisted excitement, the smooth grey surface of a pebble bulging from your entrance.

"We need to get them out." Gortash says, surprised by just how even his voice is as he slides off the fingers of his gauntlets and places them on the floor next to him. "It may hurt, but I need you to bear with me. Alright?"

Your head is like an old rusted machine, the first nod is like a lurch, then the next two come easier with use.

"Good." Gortash places one hand on your thigh to steady you and brings the other forward. "Try to stay calm."

Even though you seem desperate to obey, as soon as a finger brushes against the softness of your inner folds, your muscles flex and the pebble at your entrance sinks in deeper.

"Relax, Gortash nearly coos the word, his thumb rubbing a comforting circle into your thigh, " Relax for me, darling."

The tension in your muscles eases with small jerky jumps in between, and Gortash waits for you to let out a long, shuddering breath before trying again.

You tighten involuntarily as his fingers brush against you again, but this time, he doesn't pull back. His finger slides in next to the pebble, the juxtaposition of your soft hole and the hard rock making his head swim and his cock ache. He hooks his finger before pulling it out and the pebble, a little bigger than a grape, pops out of you and skitters onto the floor. Your pretty little hole flutters and contracts as you gasp and another pebble is immediately clogging your entrance, this one seemingly bigger.

"You poor thing," Gortash has to push the stone back into you to get his finger to fit, and he can feel it clack and scrape against the other rocks still stuffed inside you, "I know it probably hurts, but you're doing wonderful..."

He pushes the rock subtly up as he speaks, delighted at the way you whimper and bury your face into his coat as your thighs close around him. The soft meat of your entrance clenches around his finger and he softly tuts, using his free hand to spread your legs once again.

"Relax, darling, it's alright."

"S...sorry..." Your voice is muffled through his coat, but he can still hear your strain and embarassment.

"You don't have to apologize," He assures you, curving his finger around the stone, "This one might hurt, okay? So try to not to tighten if you can."

He hears you suck in a deep breath before shuddering your muscles loose. With that, he begins pulling the rock forward. It's nearly hypnotizing, seeing your tiny hole stretch tight as the slimy surface of the stone pushes up to it, against it, resisting the pressure of his finger.

"Try pushing for me," He says, breathless, "Try to relax and push."

"Ah--" The muscles in your thighs clench and you let out a strained gasp that breaks into a hurt whimper as your hole stretches more, more--

With the widest part of the stone past, the rest slides out all at once, the plum-sized rock clattering to the floor as your hole gapes open from it's size. Two more pebbles, much smaller, fall from you and join the others at his knees.

"There we go, that's it darling, shh, shh, it's alright--" He softly comforts you as you gasp and cry out soft little noises of relief.

He rests both hands on your thighs, watching as your entrance contracts with jittery clenches, a thick gush of natural juices streaked with dirt and blood leaking from your abused hole. Gods, he's half tempted to shove his cock in you-- to share that pain of heavy stones pressing against his most tender parts.

But he can't, of course. So instead, he fishes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes at your folds. You seem to appreciate the break, sighing and relaxing as you lower the coat from your face. Good, because he'll get to see your expression for what comes next.

"We'll need to get you cleaned properly, but this will have to do for now."

He meets your eyes as he speaks, bringing his hand up and dragging the cloth slowly and deliberately over your clit.

Your eyes flutter and your mouth falls open as your thighs close around him involuntarily. It lasts for all but a moment, though, because the coat comes back up to hide your face. What a teasing little thing you are.

"Poor dear," he glides two fingers back into your entrance, feeling the grit of the dirt as he goes in deeper and you tighten. His other hand rests in his lap, as casually as he can, to subtly rub at his erection. "It'll all be over soon, so hold on for a little longer."

And it really does seem to almost be over-- the palm of his hand meets with your mound as he goes in as far as he can, fingers slipping around the last two stones. A shame, really. But he can work with this.

"They're in deep," He frowns, raising up on his knees for a better angle. "This may be difficult, darling. Just hang in there."

You peek at him from behind the jacket and nod nervously.

Gortash has to work to keep his own face straight as he slides a third finger into you, bottoming out easily with his palm pressed firmly over your clit. He pins the two stones against the roof of your cunt and lets them move and slip from his hold. He spreads his fingers inside of your to retrieve them, exploring the wet, swallowing heat of you to his pleasure. You gasp as his palm grinds against your clit, legs pressing into his sides once again.

"Almost," He breathes out, cock jerking madly against his thigh as he pushes in deeper, "It's alright, just a little more..."

Your breathing is picking up and, soft, distressed whimpers leave you with every minstration. His hand is coated in slick, it's positivley soaked as he pulls his fingers out halfway with a stone, only to 'lose' it and have to push them back in.

He knows that he's getting less subtle in his excitement, but you seem too far gone to understand that, or perhaps you don't care. Either way, the sounds you're making are becoming sweeter, more raw, and your legs are trembling as they squeeze around him. He wants to rip the jacket away from you, to see the way your chest is heaving, to get a look at the pleasure-pained face you must be making right now...but even if he's being more indulgent than he should, that would definitely blow his cover.

"Wait," You stumble out on a shaky breath, your body jerking forward and your eyes wide, "W-wait, please--!"

Your words break off in a sharp cry as your back arches and your pussy locks around his fingers, juices gushing around his intrusion and running down his forearm. Gortash lets out a small noise of his own, hopefully hidden in the throes of your orgasm, and uses the cover of your clenched eyes to fondle his leaking cock. He finds his own release a mere second later, the hot spurts of his cum soaking into his pants.

It's torturously perfect, having to keep his face as straight as possible as he's wracked with pleasure, forced to supress his shivers and shakes, even as you slowly loosen into your own.

"Gods, I'm..." Your face disappears behind his jacket again as your voice wavers, "I'm so sorry..."

"Shh, it's alright." He says in a near whisper, hoping it negates the post-climax gruffness in his voice, "It's not your fault, dear."

He easily traps the two remaing stones and gingerly extracts them, though it still makes you jerk and gasp. He notes with flared nostrils that your cunt has gotten swollen and puffy from your orgasm--looking perfectly inviting for some soft licking and sucking, though he wouldn't dare. The slick running from you seems to be clear now, the natural processes of your body clearing your passageway. You still may end up with an infection, but this will certainly help ease things.

He folds his handkerchief and dabs at your folds politely, cleaning you up as best as he can before finally standing up, his head light and his heart still pounding just as fiercely.

"Let's see if you can walk now."

He holds out a hand to you and you take it, your other arm pinning the jacket to yourself modestly. You're unsteady on your feet, but you only have to endure for a few moments as he helps you put his coat on. As soon as you're decent enough, Gortash leans you against him, a protective arm around your shoulders.

"Come, darling. Let's get out of here."

As he leads you out of the warehouse, he has to fight a devious smile as you tiredly rest your head against his arm.

[queenendless]

📱Home Screen (Teen!Gojo x Fem!Reader x Teen!Geto)📱

A/N: So this is from my Curses Love (JJK x Reader) book on Wattpad under my other username on here; CosmicQueen10.

This is set in an AU where you're a student alongside these two at JJ High. Dating them both. And they're cool with it. Gonna write more with this AU in mind here and there. Also gonna write these shorts to ease my need for precious content with my two faves and put them out as much as possible.

All credit to the characters/show/pics goes to Gege sensei. Please don't steal or copy my work. Please like and reblog. I hope you enjoy.

Nodding off amidst the cool breeze and the warm skinny sunbeams trickling through the shade of the tree leaves covering you, the rustling of your hair stirred you slightly awake, followed by a familiar enriching laugh.

"Y/n-chan~?"

You softly whined as you rubbed your eyes, working yourself more alert, as you blinked until your vision cleared up to witness yourself sitting on a bench amidst the school grounds, right beside your beaming grinning boyfriend.

"Wakey wakey, sweetie~!"

The arm of one Gojo Satoru wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side, as his other hand opened up his flip phone.

"Wanna take a photo with me~?"

"Huh? Uhhhh .... okay."

The flash of the phone's camera snapped.

"Ooh~! Lookie lookie~!" Turning his phone around, you saw what made his face lit up.

His shades slid down to the tip of his nose, his vibrant blue eye opened giving a side view to the camera, his free hand squeezed your shoulder, and your closed eyed blushing face as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

"If you wanted a new home screen, you could have just said so." You couldn't stop smiling bashfully as he chuckled at the sight.

A weighted plop on the empty spot beside you on the bench grabbed both your attention.

"Sorry for making you both wait."

"About time, Suguru. Hey, take a look at this! Ain't Y/n-chan so cute~?!" Gojo literally smothered his phone screen all up in Geto's face. "You gotta get in on the action, buddy~!"

"Hmm," Geto hummed in thought; mirth already overtaking his black eyes as did his own sneaky grin. "Not a bad idea, Satoru." As he pulled out his own phone out of his pants pocket, his other hand brushed through your hair, cradling the back of your noggin as your cheek rested on his shoulder. "Care to take another, honey~?"

You had an inkling this would transpire. He is your other boyfriend, after all.

Besides, you like where this is going. You nodded shyly, earning a sly smile in return before he posed you two just right. The flashing of his phone's camera came next.

The snapshot of him kissing your forehead as you bashfully closed your eyes while also blushing vividly earned a hearty chuckle from Geto and a woo-hoo whistle from Gojo as you chose to keep your face buried on Geto's shoulder for the moment; adding to their amusement.

"Not bad, not bad Suguru~ However, if we make this a trio set, then we'll really hit the jackpot~!"

"Yeah yeah, I'm right here ya know!" You finally looked up, pulled out your own phone, readying to take your own selfie. "But I'm choosing the pose this time."

"And that would be~?" Their united voices; the delight evident on their expecting faces, made you duck your head in steamy sheepishness. Your finger beckoned them to draw closer to hear your whispered desire. Hearing what you asked made them exchange smirks.

"Deal. On 3. Ready?" Gojo asked.

Your shy nod confirmed it.

"Okay ... 1 ... 2 ... 3!"

And as you tapped to take the shot, in came a third flash.

Just as twice before, it all happened so fast.

Your giggle broke out through the air at the sight of what overtook your screen.

Gojo smooching your right cheek and Geto kissing your left cheek, a small but lovely smile on your face.

"Best. One. Yet~!" Gojo cheered.

"Agreed." Geto hummed in content.

That was your new home screen.

For now, at least.

No doubt newer ones would top them all along the way.

[prettygrltatum]

aaaaa simon asking bimbo!reader out??? or like fluffy hcs abt the two n their dynamic 🥹🥹

omg simon asking reader out is making me explode. sorry for the last responce btw lol, I had somethings going down :33 and im tired too lmao

warning: just some guy harrasing tf out of you and just being a dickhead, spelling mistakes

It was simple idea to him. Just walk right up to you and ask you out to dinner or a drink. Maybe even gas you up a bit. Tell you how pretty you are (which you know already) or that your outfit is cute.

But his body was betraying his mind. Amerging from the locker room, he sees little ole you. Or just your hair. All pretty and ready to work out he assumed. Shame he was getting ready to leave.

But a small and weak plea rings and travels through his ear. It was you, your sweet and addictive voice.

"Hey doll, just give me your number! I can give you a good time!" A man, proabarly in his mid life talking you up. Simon creeps behind the corner, eyebrows furrowed and in anger. Only if he could snap his neck right off. He can but what will you think? Think of him as amurdering machine like everyone else?

"The only you're having is in the geriatric ward, fuck off creep." you whined trying to squirm away from his hand. He could just stand by and watch you get treated this way. No. No way.

Simon's hulky foot steps march down the hallways. His grumbled catching the both of yours attention. "Leave the girl alone, she doesn't want you. Get a move on mate." He said, husjky and enrich of a natural Manchester accent.

"Hey leave us alone. I don't need your help buddy." The man bravely snapped back, his smirk wide as he turned back to you. Before Simon could catch life in prison for fucking this guy up, your legs swung at the stranger.

"FUCK!" He hollered. You pulled out your pepper spary and started to bend over him and spary it directly in his eyes. "Yeah fucker you don't like that you old saggy ass bitch!" You cursed. All the while Simon stood there, a bystander you could say.

As the man groaned and cried, you smiled at Simon. "Thank you mister!" Oh the way you said mister too-

"I-I uhm. You're welcome." He mumbled, all his confidence all of a sudden drained. You hand shot at his bicep, squishing and rubbing them. "You must come here often! You're rip mister! No doubt you would have wreck this guy."

Simon wanted to ask so badly, but yet again his body betrayed his mind once more.Why now? You were just too pretty for him. Not even worthy of being by your side even if it was only for a while. But yet-

"Mister, your eyes are very pretty. They remind me of my favorite chocolate bar. Like the wrapper."

Wait huh-

"I wanna take you out on a date with you! As a thank you! I'd go out with you than this wrinkled date here."

Simon just nodded his hand as he let you grabbed squish all over you. Finally his body was in sync with his mind.

[calliesmemes]

ATLANTIS: THE LOST EMPIRE (2001)

SENTENCE STARTERS PULLED FROM THE DIALOGUE FEATURED IN THE ANIMATED FILM ATLANTIS: THE LOST EMPIRE, with some quotations slightly modified for roleplay purposes.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

   “   Uh, would you gentlemen please excuse me for a moment?   ”

   “   If I ever hear the word "Atlantis" again, I'll step in front of a bus!   ”

   “   You have a lot of potential.   ”

   “   Who... who are you? How did you get in here?   ”

   “   I'm acting on behalf of my employer, who has a most intriguing proposition for you.   ”

   “   Relax. He doesn’t bite … often.   ”

   “   Did you really know my grandfather?   ”

   “   We stayed close friends ‘till the end of his days.   ”

   “   He spoke of you often.   ”

   “   I've spent my whole life studying dead languages.   ”

   “   I will stake everything I own, everything that I believe in... that this is the genuine Shepherd's Journal.   ”

   “   I'll show them! I will make them believe.   ”

   “   For years your granddad bent my ear with stories about that old book.   ”

   “   Your grandpa was a great man. You probably don't realize how great.   ”

   “   Don't let her age fool you.   ”

   “   Our lives are remembered by the gifts we leave our children.   ”

   “   Atlantis is waiting. What do you say?   ”

   “   Boy, I’m so excited, l-l-l-I can't even hold it in.   ”

   “   Excuse me? I need to, uh, report in?   ”

   “   Blondie, I got a bone to pick with you.   ”

   “   If you're lookin' for the pony rides, they're back there.   ”

   “   You can’t put a price on the pursuit of knowledge.   ”

   “   This should be enriching for all of us.   ”

   “   Now tell me your story, my little friend.   ”

   “   This is an outrage! You must leave at once! Out, out, out, out, out!   ”

   “   Now, what have I told you about playing nice with the other kids?   ”

   “   Back to the pit from which you came!   ”

   “   OK, everybody. I want you to give Mr. Thatch your undivided attention.  ”

   “   Cartographer, linguist, plumber. Hard to believe he's still single.   ”

   “   Captain, you'd better come look at this, sir.   ”

   “   Do you want to do my job? Be my guest.   ”

   “   How much time do we have?   ”

   “   I don't think he's comin' back.   ”

   “   Move it, people! Sometime today would be nice!   ”

   “   I won't sugar-coat it, gentlemen. We have a crisis on our hands.   ”

   “   Looks like all our chances for survival rest with you, Mr. Thatch.   ”

   “   We’re all gonna die.   ”

   “   Looks like we have a little roadblock.   ”

   “   That thing is going to keep me up all night, I know it.   ”

   “   You know, we've been pretty tough on the kid. What do you say we cut him some slack?   ”

   “   Hey, Milo! Why don't you come sit with us?   ”

   “   Hey, Milo, don't you ever close that book?   ”

   “   I know, I know. Sometimes I get a little carried away.   ”

   “   You know, that's what this is all about, right? I mean – discovery, teamwork, adventure. Unless, maybe, you're just in it for the money.   ”

   “   Hey, how’d you learn how to do that?   ”

   “   I never got to meet your grandfather. What was he like?   ”

   “   He was like a father to me, really.   ”

   “   My parents died when I was a little kid, and he took me in.   ”

   “   That is so cute!   ”

   “   Uh, no... no offense.. but how does a teenager become the chief mechanic of a multimillion dollar expedition?   ”

   “   So, what... what happened to your sister?   ”

   “   I just like to blow things up.   ”

   “   All right, who's not dead? Sound off.   ”

   “   Maybe that's our ticket outta here.   ”

   “   I gotta hand it to you. You really came through.   ”

   “   They can smell fear just by looking at ya.   ”

   “   We are explorers from the surface world. We come in peace.   ”

   “   Come. You must speak with my father now.   ”

   “   Someone's having a good time.   ”

   “   Commander, there were not supposed to be people down here. This changes everything.   ”

   “   This changes nothing.   ”

   “   You presume much to think that you would be welcome here.   ”

   “   I know what you seek and you will not find it here.   ”

   “   Your journey has been in vain.   ”

   “   May I respectfully request that we stay one night, sir?   ”

   “   Your heart has softened, Kida.   ”

   “   A thousand years ago, you would have slain them on sight.   ”

   “   We were once a great people. Now we live in ruins.   ”

   “   The kings of our past would weep if they could see how far we have fallen.   ”

   “   Our way of life is dying.   ”

   “   When you take the throne, you will understand.   ”

   “   Well, the King and his daughter don't exactly see eye to eye.   ”

   “   Well, if he's hiding something, I want to know what it is.   ”

   “   Look, I have some questions for you, and I'm not leaving this city until they're answered!   ”

   “   Oh, there is so much to ask about your world.   ”

   “   You are a scholar, are you not?   ”

   “   I got a few questions for you, too. So let's do this, OK? You ask one, then I'll ask one, then you, then me, then...well, you get it.   ”

   “   how did you get here? Well, I mean, not you personally... but your... your culture. I mean, how did all of this end up down here?   ”

   “   Wh... what... what … are you telling me… that you remember what happened because you were there? No, that... that's impossible...   ”

   “   How was my accent?   ”

   “   You know, you deserve credit for even... even gettin' this far.   ”

   “   By the way, we were never properly introduced. My name's Milo.   ”

   “   Uh, hey, you got a nickname?   ”

   “   You know, my grandpa used to tell me stories about this place as far back as I can remember.   ”

   “   I just wish that he could be standing here with me.   ”

   “   We are not thriving. True, our people live. but our culture is dying.   ”

  “   I wish there was something I could do.   ”

   “   Why don't you lead the way, because I have no idea where we're going.   ”

   “   This is amazing! A complete history of Atlantis!   ”

   “   I am such an idiot.   ”

   “   This is just another treasure hunt for you.   ”

   “   I would've told you sooner, but it was strictly on a need-to-know basis.   ”

   “   Welcome to the club, son.   ”

   “   Mercenary? I prefer the term "adventure capitalist."   ”

   “   You don't know what you're tampering with, Rourke.   ”

   “   Academics. You never want to get your hands dirty.   ”

   “   I got to admit, I'm disappointed.   ”

   “   You're an idealist, just like your grandfather.   ”

   “   For once, do the smart thing.   ”

   “   I really hate it when negotiations go sour.   ”

   “   Well, as usual, diplomacy has failed us.   ”

   “   You've got to listen to me. You don't have the slightest idea what this power is capable of.   ”

   “   Let’s get this over with. I don’t like this place.  

   “   Doesn’t anything surprise you?   ”

   “   Talk to me, Thatch. What's happening?   ”

   “   So I guess this is how it ends, huh?   ”

   “   You've read Darwin. It's called natural selection. We're just helping it along.   ”

   “   Be serious. This is wrong, and you know it.   ”

   “    You pick now of all times to grow a conscience?   ”

   “   She has been chosen... like her mother before her.   ”

   “   I followed you in, and I'll follow you out.   ”

   “   it's been my experience that when you hit bottom, the only place left to go is up.   ”

   “   What do you think that you are doing?   ”

   “   We're going to save Atlantis, or we're going to die trying.   ”

   “   Well, I have to hand it to you. You're a bigger pain in the neck than I would have ever thought possible.   ”

   “   Tired? Aw, that's a darn shame, because I'm just getting warmed up.   ”

   “   There's a hero's welcome waiting for the man who discovered Atlantis.   ”

   “   I don't think the world needs another hero.   ”

   “   I'm going to miss that boy. At least he's in a better place now.   ”

[pomefioredove]

Hello 💕 If you're still accepting headcanons requests, could you write something about a reader who seems normal and "ordinary" and even a little shy/demure but shines brilliantly on stage as if a completely different person (can be an actor, singer, idol etc.) with Rook and Vil and the Pop music club (separately)? Tysm 💓

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the opposite of stage fright

type of post: headcanons characters: cater, kalim, rook, vil, lilia additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu

introverts are Lilia's favorite people

...to torture

when you first started attending club meetings, he assumed you were some kind of groupie

I mean, who wouldn't want to fawn over him?

but he still tried to drag you into club activities

you just... refused to play anything, wouldn't sing, wouldn't so much as speak...

but Lilia was confident he could get you to stop holding back

so, the club got clever

at their next concert, Kalim ~magically~ has a sore throat

and who else to take his place but the only other member of the club?

manipulative little fae...

and, as he thought, you had been holding back

the concert is a rousing success

...and he's never going to let you forget it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is like a bloodhound for talent

he can smell the potential on you from one look at your plain, slightly-disheveled self

he knows that any other student would have ignored you. but he isn't just any student

he knows you're holding out on him

and he'll crack that shell of yours no matter what it takes

that is to say,

once you've caught his eye,

you will never know peace again

...and maybe that sounds like an over exaggeration, but if you're a timid person, it's your worst nightmare

I mean dance rehearsals twice a week, vocal training, posture, projection, poise, presentation-

everything

the other Pomefiore students may give you odd looks as you walk by on their Housewarden's arm,

but he knows

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kalim doesn't need a big performance to know that he's already proud of you

what can I say? he's got enough enthusiastic hugs to go around

and he definitely doesn't mind that you're shy

...honestly, the thought hasn't even occurred to him

even if you don't want to party or dance or say hi to everyone in the dorm every time you come over,

he like you. he doesn't need anything else

you're already amazing to him

and ... in a way, he kind of turns out to be right?

he had always said he could see the star in you, and here you are, performing on stage like a professional!

...not that he isn't surprised

Kalim is completely blown away

it's all he can talk about for the next week, actually

(much to your embarrassment)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Rook had a feeling

...and he's also listened to you singing to yourself when you thought you were alone

I mean WHAT who said that

he definitely just had a feeling

now, seeing you on stage, he's almost brought to his knees

having watched the seed of your beauty blossom into a beautiful flower is the ultimate enrichment for him

and unlike Vil, he waited for you to blossom on your own

a hunter is nothing if not patient, after all

though, he still can't help but feel a little accomplished...

even though he didn't push you, or train you, he kept the secret of your beauty all to himself

...which is a kind of guidance

admittedly, he wouldn't have minded keeping it all to himself for a little while longer, though

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Cater always just thought of you as...

...kinda cute. right?

you were shy and quiet, always avoiding his camera, meek, the kind of person that doesn't last long at NRC

...of course, he had to take you under his wing!

sort of?

really, he just liked that you let him talk your ear off

he didn't even mind that you never let him take your picture! ...kind of

and he thought he knew you pretty well, but...

...seeing you on stage after the music club's performance...

totally wiping the floor with them...

well, well, you still find ways to surprise him

of course, though, now that he knows you're a world-class performer, he's never going to let it go

he got a lot of likes on the videos of your performance, after all

I guess he finally got that picture he wanted ;3

[kittynugg]

okay now this is getting out of hand who gave stan mabel's sweater

there's a time traveler on the loose and they keep giving the youngins of new jersey accessories that arent supposed to exist yet

i dont think he likes pink

anywayyy reblogs appreciated as always, or like it or just scroll past it but if you want anyone else to see this you're gonna have to reblog :>

also i did one of little ford if you're interested shdfksdhkuh

insanity is once again below the cut

what was i DOING the scale was all off

"duhhhh uhhh whats hair"

i figured it out eventually like i always do

gave him a face, it is enrichment

did NOT know what i wanted the pose to be

eventually decided on this despite wanting to give him little dino hands instead because i cannot dra w hands

colored without shading

also i drew most of this with my cat sitting on my shoulders

my back hurty

[lionhanie]

riwoo as your boyfriend! ♡

fluff, boyfriend riwoo x gn reader!

word count: ~760

warnings: none

a/n: been having a severe case of boyfriend riwoo thoughts like i desperately need to keep him in my pocket

likes ♡ and reblogs ↺ always appreciated!

never ending source of laughter and (really bad) dad jokes but he’s cute so you always end up smiling regardless

the effect he has on the members is practically ctrl c + ctrl v when he’s with you

nobody can deny that he has some BANGERRRRR jokes but when he’s always trying to make ‘em…. its inevitable that some will miss LMFAOOOO but he’s lucky to have you as his partner, because you always end up giggling when he looks to you when a joke flops

everyone will groan when you’re all hanging out and riwoo pulls the corniest play on words known to man, meanwhile you’re on the sidelines facepalming as you chuckle into your hand. “see, y/n understands how funny i am!” he boasts, feeling super full of love knowing he always has you to laugh at his jokes aw :,((((

i think he would literally have sparkles in his eyes every time you compliment him. he loves being praised by his partner!!!!! especially if we’re talking about something he’s worked really hard on or is particularly proud about 

you’re in the practice room with him, sitting on the floor and leaning against the mirror as you watch your boyfriend replay the same section of the song he’s been trying to choreograph for HOURS. even though it’s getting late, you’re completely mesmerized by the way he moves, his intricate facial expressions, and his (super cute) look of frustration when he isn’t quite satisfied with the steps he just made

“ah, this doesn’t look right. i feel like my flow is all off today,” riwoo groans as he lays flat on the floor next to you, splayed out like a starfish. “maybe i should just restart tomorrow. should we go home now, y/n?”

“mm, i thought you looked really cool though? that footwork you did for the chorus was amazing, it’s crazy to think you came up with it just now!” you’re deep in thought as you give him your two cents, finding it easy to compliment him when he’s just /so talented/ in the first place. “i don’t think you should get rid of everything you worked so hard on, but maybe you should get some rest so you can clear up your doubts about it!”

riwoo can feel his ears burn at your never-ending praise, cheeks starting to hurt from smiling too hard at your words. “okay, if my sweet y/n thinks i did a good job, then i must’ve really come up with a great choreo this time. come on, let’s go eat~!” 

methinks he’s big on rlly casual dates! stuff like staying at home and playing games, going on walks together, cafe hopping across the city, things along those lines :3

ooommmmfffgggg like. i’m thinking about enrichment time w riwoo LOLLLLL. it was a long day & you’re both just washed up laying next to each other on your shared bed just . scrolling on your phones. not a word said to each other for Lord Knows how long…except for the occasional poke to your shoulder bc riwoo wants to show you the funny dog vid he saw on his instagram explore feed… the two of you are just so content being at home together in comfortable silence that neither of you really mind that it may not seem particularly “exciting” to many

if you aren't staying in, riwoo loves going on walks with you, especially a little bit after the sun finishes setting. the weather’s a lot cooler without the sun, there’s less people out and about, and the mixtures of pinks, purples, and oranges from the sunset linger in the sky still -- and he has you! your fingers are interlocked as he swings your hands back and forth as you walk and talk about your days </3

okay…..now just IMAGINE what riwoo would be like if he had a s/o who worked at a bakery/cafe/pastry shop

first of all. riwoo would be all DOE EYED every time u left for work n just being like … “could you maybe… bring home any leftover pastries if there are any today? to make up for the fact that you're LEAVING ME ALL ALONE for a couple hours >:(” literally BEGGING u to bring him home something with his eyes awh

when you come home after your closing shift, he engulfs you in a huuuuge hug that lasts for maybe…. 5 minutes…. mainly because you smell like SWEETS and he literally wants to Eat You bc you smell so yummy LMAO 

im convinced this would be his DREAM PARTNER because wdym he can just waltz on into the store when 1) he misses you and 2) he can get his sweet tweat AT A DISCOUNT bc ur working… oh you're just so perfect for him! :,)

he is SO HAPPY to support you in any way that he can, without a doubt

i feel like you’d text him like “baby i’m really dreading work today :(“ and then when you’re on your break riwoo is there to visit! and he brought you snacks so that you aren’t too hungry by the time your shift ends; you can’t deny that his presence alone makes working a little more bearable, def gives you the motivation to keep going so you can quickly go back home to ur sweet boyfie

or if you’re feeling a little unconfident about the big test you have coming up, so you need to spend a couple hours studying every night-- i just KNOW riwoo is sat at the table with you for that mental support. you’d go through flashcards together, him quizzing you on each one and literally jumping in joy when you /finally/ get a term you’ve been struggling with correctly (he has no idea what he’s testing you on, but he’s just happy to be there for you!)

© lionhanie 2024 ; all rights reserved!

[citrinae]

avoid the crowds.

law x reader

summary; you're an aspiring biologist, hard-working on your phd. when you're coupled with your colleague law to enrich your research, you're mortified to discover that other's personal projects may be a little more ambitious than you’d anticipate. 

contents; gravedigging, only a pinch of gore, explicit at times, toxic attachments, love/hate, smoking, references to mary shelley because i’m a nerd & law is pathetic, college/academia!AU, gn!reader, wc: 2k. this is actually my very first time writing for this freak, intensely praying that i did him justice. check here for more spooktober shenanigans.

masterlist

Dirt on your shoes, on your jeans, under your nails. Pushing a lit cigarette between your lips, you realise your hands are slightly trembling. It’s slowly that you take the smoke in, a burning sensation into your lungs making you forget about the cold creeping up your cheeks, your ankles and into your bones, and you keep it there for a moment. Your eyes wander to the number of gravestones carrying the memory of someone’s friend, partner, or sibling, all cared for and regretfully gone. There’s a rustle coming from your right, boot sliding on the ground before his knee bumps into yours. With his hat he brushes the dirt off his lap. 

“This shit is bad for your health,” Law says, with a hint of superiority that has you pursing your lips around the cigarette. 

“These guys haven’t seen a pub in decades,” you manage to keep your cool. “Thought they wouldn’t mind if I brought them a piece of memory.”

He doesn’t play along. “They are dead. I doubt they care about much of anything.”

“How do you expect your students to like you if you can’t even take a joke?” you say through an exhale. 

“Honestly?” Law props his weight on the shovel he’s dug into the ground, legs spread. “The very few students I’ve had so far were actually funny.”

“Fuck you,” you huff. “Honestly.”

“Kindly reminding you that we’re in a cemetery,” he drones. “I'd restrain my libido for when we get back.”

You give him a look, still not believing he said that. His fingers—long, nimble, tattooed at the knuckles—rest atop his knees as he absently watches ahead. He’s slack in track pants and sweater, not that tonight makes him any different from the way you’ve always known him—cold, laid back. The sky is dark, only a few hours away from dawn. At your feet lingers a plastic bag he’s filled with everything needed for his fun little science project. 

Or rather, your fun little science project, now that you found out about it and agreed to let him do his magic before your eyes. The only condition was that you do it quietly—so far, you’re being terrible at it, and still he keeps you by like some sort of low-cost apprentice. Looking at the spots where dirt has been immaculately removed and battered back into place, your stomach threatens to turn. 

How have you ended up like this?

(There was someone in your research group; a guy called Trafalgar D. Water Law. A brilliant fellow, a committed academic. A little bit of an asshole, if you were to be completely honest. Law rarely ever spoke to the rest of you, let alone spend time with the group. Frequented the lab when you were about to call it a day and left early in the morning, just before you'd put on your whitecoats, fluorescent light droning overhead and steam hovering from coffee mugs. The nights were when he liked to work the most, doing whatever the fuck he was up to. Your PhD coordinator said something about reinventing surgery; but not even they were able to run into further detail. You were all too buried in your own projects to pry.

Water gathered at the tip of your nose and dripped onto your shoe. Your clothes were soaked and plastered to your skin; you hadn’t expected to rain that night. 

“Jesus fuck,” you managed under your breath. There was a dense, awful smell lingering in the air, the door to the research room locked with no spare key to use. “Law, are you in there?” 

Movement on the other side, pretending you didn’t exist. Your hair curled at your nape, wet and cold, and a feverish sensation began to climb up your temples. 

You tried again. “I left my journal in here, and, uhm,” scratching your head, “see I really needed to look up some notes tonight. May I come in and fetch it so I can leave you be?”

Still no answer; you were starting to get angry. 

You also needed a towel. 

“Listen up you freak,” through gritted teeth. “I don’t give two shits about what you’re doing or how many dicks you had to suck to be allowed to act like you own this fucking place. My day was bad enough to only care about my stupid little notes I left in that stupid little room, so please, for the love of god, open the door or else I’ll break a window or something and tab the damage on your weird ass name.”

“Who’s breaking what?” It was coming from behind; you turned, and stopped. Wiping his hands with a white washcloth, there stood Law, hoodie sleeves rolled to elbows, dark hair dishevelled, bags under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. 

The sounds you were hearing from inside the workroom didn’t cease. You felt heavy with the onset of a headache. 

“But if you’re here,” you said, incredulous. “Then who’s—” a second of thought. “What’s—”

Folding his arms, fabric thrown over his shoulder, “Yeah?”

The words felt weird leaving you, “What do you keep in there?”

“Nothing to be concerned about,” Law said, plainly. He seemed to know better than coming up with an excuse. There were steps that you heard, after all, nothing a branch against a window or a vending machine could replace. 

“You were saying you needed something?” he added, searching his pockets. “Let me get that for you, stay right there.”

But you didn’t stay put. You couldn’t. Shortly after watching him turn the key into the lock, careful not to reveal much of what awaited him inside, impulse had you setting your foot in the door. An elbow pressed on steel, a tattoo beat into floor tiles. And you could hardly hear the disturbed hiss leaving him now that you were facing a true miracle of modern medicine.)

They say the secrets of Heaven and Earth ought to stay in the palms of the one behind their making, for the man was made a crafty artist, but, alas, uncompleted. Understanding is a bottomless pit, only for the divine to fill and look after. But why are they to be frowned upon, half-made creatures, clinging to the knowledge that would make them whole?

(A strange friendship took shape that night. You agreed to keep the secret and Law allowed you to keep him company during the nights, borrowing notes, studying equipment. Little of this brought anything new to your own research, and yet, being in Law’s presence felt like a giant leap in your career. You wouldn’t be made to admit it, but you admired him, and at the same time he seemed almost content with the ease at which you were navigating the dense volume of research. As far as work was concerned, you were making a surprisingly good team—that you could both agree on despite your infuriating personalities. 

Some uneventful nights you would fiddle with his earrings as he measured the diameter of a human limb. Some other nights, his hand would flatten across your back as he showed you how man-made particles quivered and dispersed under the microscope. Your eyes ached from lack of sleep but your curiosity was a persistent fiend, always hungry for more, begging to be kept entertained. Slowly you found yourself disconnected from everything happening around you other than your undergraduate classes and lab work. Everything in your world revolved around science, and consequently, around Law. 

But spending so much time around each other would soon get the best—or worst—of you both, on a night just as rainy as the one you started working together. There was an hour left until the sky would start bleeding into a deep gradient of blues, two before the building would be animated with swarms of steps and voices. Tables had been diligently swept with no trace of your nightly work, equipment dismantled and notebooks locked away—just like Law instructed you to. Your steps echoed down the hallways of the facility, dark and empty, comfortable silence lingering between your forms as you were heading out. Exhaustion crept into your body to the point walking felt like floating. To your left, Law’s breathing seemed heavier than usual. You found yourself cagily tracing the contours of his hair, his ear, his neck and shoulder, stopping at his hand that he kept buried into a pocket. 

A beat later, too soon to tell how it happened, you were pressed against a wall, Law’s stare taking from confused to determined as he tried to keep up with his own actions. 

There was a pause. 

“You don’t have the guts,” you provoked, adrenaline pushing your mouth into a smirk. 

Law clicked his tongue. Then he kissed you, deeply, viciously, and you returned it without much thought. White hat collapsed on the floor as your fingers struggled to make their way through his hair, digging themselves into his scalp, touching and searing everything they found in their reach. Standing so close to him you were surprised to catch a faint trace of cologne lingering under all the metal and soap and formalin he worked with. Your head spun. His hand was cold as it touched you under your sweater; with his other he had to cover your mouth to keep a sound from coming out.

It didn’t stop you. He urged you somewhere more secluded.)

You flick the ashes off your cigarette. “Hey,” you say, trying to figure out the inscription chiselled on a gravestone. “Is it fair? To disturb these people’s peace like that?”

Law breathes out, heavily, a little shaken himself. He thinks about it for a moment. Then, massaging a temple, he says, “I think it’s a little too late to ask yourself this.” He’s right. 

“Maybe.” It’s faint, distracted. 

Some would say you’re giving them a second chance; you know that’s not the case here. None of you wants nothing out of this but the Promethean high of discovery. Performing miracles with a scalpel and needle, building an universe of your own. 

(Your research sessions carried on like this. Passing thread through layers of dead skin, sinking your teeth into Law’s skin moments later. Papers and pens and scissors scattered on the floor. Bodies feverish and drenched in sweat. Taking his chin between thumb and forefinger, you relished the faces he made after claiming that you inspire him. With his cock deep inside you, Law admitted he was glad to have found a use for that foul mouth of yours. When you use it to say his name, he added on, his voice grave and possessive, beard tickling your earshell, it makes him believe your voice was sewed for him.)

Wind blows in your direction, sharp like a slap in the face, and your body starts coiling within itself as it does. 

“Time to go,” Law says, already back on his feet.  

You insist that he carries the bag. And so he does, hoisting it around his shoulder without much care for its contents. You stub out your cigarette under your foot, and your eyes roll heavenwards when he demands that you pick the thing up. 

“I was meaning to,” you sneer, bending down. “Who do you take me for?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Law hands you the shovel. 

“For the record,” dusting off your jeans, “When faculty reviews are up, I’m ruining your ass.”

Law’s smirk is offensive. “Double-check your spelling before sending anything in.”

No one says a word on the way back to the facility. With weight propped on your shoulders and stars hiding one by one behind the horizon, the moment feels almost serene, and you dismiss the impulse to close your eyes because you know you will be falling asleep as soon as you do. For now, you end up settling with this space between dream and reality, hoping that maybe, somewhere, awaits the truth you’ve been working so hard to earn.