#and he looks SO SMALL here... so tiny in that huge chair...

[yukkiji]

late night letters

late one night, you discover your husband, akaashi, writing letters to your unborn twins—poetic, anxious, and raw and nestled among them is a hidden letter just for you, thanking you for giving the most beautiful gift he never knew he needed.

chapters of us. haikyuu masterlist. leave a little stardust on my ko-fi

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre: fluff, romance, domestic fluff, timeskip!akaashi, reader and akaashi are married, pregnant!reader

wc: 5.3k

author's note: this is probably the longest chapter yet in this series and i just love akaashi sm here

you wake to quiet.

the kind of quiet that isn’t lonely, just… missing someone.

your hand slides across the bed, slow and instinctual. the sheets are still warm on his side, but empty, and it takes a beat longer than usual for your sleep-fogged brain to register that akaashi’s no longer beside you.

you shift upright with a soft sigh, one hand on your belly—a now-familiar weight that makes everything, even rising from bed, feel like a ceremony. two tiny flutters greet your palm, rolling and stretching low beneath your ribs. they’re active tonight. restless.

“guess you guys miss him too,” you murmur, brushing your thumb along your stomach.

it was slowly growing—the bump already visible beneath the soft cotton of your sleep shirt, rounder every morning. you’d caught akaashi staring at it just last night, his fingers curled loosely around his mug of tea, gaze warm and a little awestruck like it still didn’t feel real to him yet.

you wrap your robe around your body and pad barefoot toward the glow spilling under the study door. it’s a quiet light. a soft one. the kind that only akaashi would leave on this late at night.

you ease the door open.

and there he is.

sitting at his desk, curled over a notebook, glasses low on the bridge of his nose. the amber light pools around him like a halo, highlighting the slope of his neck, the slow shift of his hand as he writes. he doesn’t see you yet—his gaze is trained on the paper in front of him, lips pressed together in thought.

you could stand here forever. watching him. letting the moment stretch like a secret only you get to witness.

but you want him, too. so you speak softly.

“keiji?”

he blinks, looking up. a smile curls at the edges of his mouth—tired, warm, a little sheepish.

“you’re awake,” he murmurs. “i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“you didn’t,” you reply, stepping closer. “i just… missed you.”

his fingers close around the pen. the navy blue notebook—worn at the edges, loved—sits open on the desk. “i couldn’t sleep. i’ve been writing again.”

“to them?” you ask.

he nods, a little shy. “letters. it helps when i don’t know what to say out loud.”

there’s something so soft in his honesty. so him.

“can i read one?” you ask.

he hesitates. just for a second.

then he tugs you closer by the wrist, gently coaxing you into his space. you expect him to pass the notebook to you—but instead, he shifts in his chair, curls his hands around your hips, and tries to ease you onto his lap.

“wait—keiji,” you laugh, bracing your hand on his shoulder. “i’m huge. i’ll crush you.”

“you won’t,” he says, matter-of-fact. “you’re perfect. sit with me.”

you roll your eyes but let him guide you down, careful and slow. you settle onto his thighs, your back leaning against his chest, your legs curled to the side.

his arms wrap around you automatically. one rests low over your belly. the other folds across your ribs.

safe. anchored.

you can feel his heart beating through his chest.

he places the notebook into your hands and turns to a page near the middle. “start with this one.”

you glance down, eyes scanning the date. the handwriting is elegant. familiar. but there’s a breath in the rhythm—like he was caught off guard when he wrote it.

dear little ones, tonight, i heard your mother laugh from the other room.not just a small laugh—the kind she gives when she’s being polite, or amused—but the real one. the one that bursts out of her before she can think to quiet it. it’s loud, sometimes uneven, and always beautiful. i used to think the word "joy" was too big to describe something so simple. but then i heard her laugh like that for the first time, and i understood.that laugh is what made me fall for her. it reminded me, oddly enough, of your uncle bokuto. he has this very specific way of announcing himself—always loud, always enthusiastic. his “hey! hey! hey!” can shake the walls when he’s in a good mood. your mother’s laugh tonight felt like that. it wasn’t the same, of course. hers is gentler. warmer. but it had that same kind of energy, like the world had shifted slightly to make space for it.and just like every time before, it caught me off guard. i stopped editing. i put the pen down. i just sat there, listening, and smiling like a fool.i think it hit me then—again—that you two are real. that you’re growing, quietly, inside her. and i found myself hoping that maybe, just maybe, you inherit that laugh. not just the sound of it, but what it means. i hope you learn how to laugh without hesitation. i hope joy sits easily in your bones, even when life tries to make you small. i hope you know how deeply loved you already are, even now, when you're still just flutters and kicks and dreams in the dark. your mother has a way of making everything lighter, even on the heaviest days. i want that for you too. i can’t wait to hear your first laugh. love, papa

you laughed softly at the letter, thumb still brushing along the page, eyes tracing the elegant loops of his handwriting like they were tethered to a memory.

that night came rushing back.

back when you were still just “bokuto’s little sister” and he dragged you—reluctantly—to join his rowdy group of teammates for dinner.

“he treats you like you’re all in some exclusive club,” you had muttered under your breath. “like you were knighted into fukurodani volleyball royalty or something.”

“he basically did,” one of the second-years had laughed.

“you mean the cult?” another chimed in.

and then one of them—maybe konoha, maybe washio—said something about how you laughed exactly like bokuto when you got really going, loud and contagious and just a bit unhinged. you’d tried to glare, mouth still mid-laugh, but it only made everyone crack up harder.

that’s when you felt it: a pair of quiet eyes watching you from across the table.

akaashi keiji. second year. vice captain. mysterious, reserved, polite to a fault.

he hadn’t said much that night. but you remembered the way he smiled when he looked at you—like he’d just read the first line of a very good book and knew he wouldn’t be able to put it down.

after dinner, bokuto slung an arm around your shoulder, all proud grin and dramatic flair. “you gotta admit, my little sister’s kind of cool, huh?”

akaashi’s response was simple.

“she’s… interesting.”

you found out much later that he’d written about you that night. that even back then, he’d started cataloging you the way he did everything that mattered to him: carefully, intentionally, like the right words could make it last forever.

the thought makes your smile widen now as you sit beside him, the softest parts of the memory brushing against your heart. you close the notebook just a little, hand resting over the leather cover as you glance over at him.

he hasn’t moved from his desk—still writing, though slower now, like he’s sensed the shift in the air. like maybe he already knows what you’re about to say.

your voice is quiet when it breaks the silence between you.

“keiji?”

he hums, looking up. his glasses are tilted slightly from where he’s been leaning on his hand.

“can i… read the first entry?” you ask, eyes gentle. “the very first one. before the ultrasound. before everything.”

there’s a pause. his eyes search yours. not out of hesitation, but reverence. like offering that first page is more intimate than anything else he’s written.

then slowly, wordlessly, he reaches over and flips to the beginning of the journal. his fingers ghost over the page before turning it toward you.

“it’s yours too,” he says quietly. “it always was.”

you take a breath and begin to read.

dear little ones, i found you today. tucked between chapter six and chapter seven of a manuscript i was editing. at first, i thought it was just a misplaced sheet of paper—your mother tends to leave sticky notes and little reminders in my drafts. but this time, it wasn’t a note. it was an ultrasound photo. my hands were still holding a red pen. i remember that detail clearly because i dropped it. right there on my desk. i didn’t move for a long time after that. i just stared. there were two. two. i kept looking back at the picture, hoping i was wrong—or right—or anything that made the breathlessness in my chest feel manageable. there you were, side by side in a black-and-white blur, shaped like commas in the middle of a sentence that hasn’t finished yet. you both looked like secrets and promises all at once. and all i could think was: i’m going to be a father to two. your mother slipped you between chapters like you were part of the story—and maybe you are. the best kind. a surprise plotline. a twist that doesn’t unravel the arc, but deepens it. i didn’t tell her right away that i saw it. i didn’t need to. she must’ve known. she always knows. later that evening, i found her in the kitchen, hands resting idly on the counter, waiting for me to speak. i couldn’t. i just walked over, wrapped my arms around her from behind, and held her like she was holding the whole world for me. maybe she was. maybe she still is. papa is scared. not in the way that makes him want to run—but in the way that makes him want to stay. in the way that makes every moment feel delicate and urgent and impossibly precious. i don’t know how to raise two children. i don’t even know how to build a crib. but i’m learning. i will learn. for you. for her. you’re both so small in that photo and yet, somehow, you’ve filled up every part of me. love, papa

your fingers linger on the edge of the ultrasound letter even after you’ve finished reading it. the paper is worn slightly at the corners, softened by time, handled more than once. you can tell he’s reread it. maybe even when you weren’t looking.

your chest feels full. full of love. full of them. full of him.

you draw in a quiet breath and look up from the journal where you’ve curled up beside him. he’s watching you, eyes searching, tentative. as if the words he gave freely on the page are suddenly too much now that you’ve seen them.

but you just smile. soft, a little teary.

“they always move when you talk, you know,” you murmur, placing his hand gently over your bump. “every single time. even before they could kick properly.”

his eyes widen a little, fingers instinctively splaying over the curve of your belly.

“they know your voice,” you say, brushing a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “they love hearing their father talk. they listen.”

akaashi doesn’t speak for a beat. he just watches you like you’ve just handed him something sacred.

then—so softly it almost breaks—you hear him say, “do they really?”

you nod. “they’re already drawn to you.”

as if on cue, one of the twins shifts under his palm. then the other. a quiet nudge. a slow flutter.

his mouth parts slightly in wonder. he exhales a shaky breath. “they’re… responding.”

“they always do,” you whisper. “even when you’re just muttering to yourself while editing drafts.”

he laughs then—quiet, breathless, stunned. “i guess i have an audience now.”

you rest your forehead against his shoulder, letting your eyes fall to the journal again. and then—curious—you gently turn the page to the newest entry. the one he’d been writing tonight, the one still ink-wet and unfinished when you walked in.

your fingers still. your breath catches as your eyes scan the first few lines.

dear little ones, tonight, papa is scared. not the loud kind of fear—the kind that crashes in and takes over your chest—but the quiet kind. the kind that slips in when the world is dark and still, when everything’s supposed to be calm. it’s the kind that sits beneath the surface, even when i’m surrounded by lists and books and well-meaning advice from friends who think i’ve got everything figured out. the truth is, i don’t. not even close. i’ve stood in front of packed gyms. i’ve made impossible plays under pressure. i’ve edited full manuscripts through sleepless nights. but none of that has made my hands tremble like the thought of holding both of you for the first time. you’re still months away, still tucked safely inside your mother, and yet somehow you already occupy so much space in my heart, in my thoughts, in the future i see when i close my eyes. i worry sometimes—more than i like to admit. what if i’m not enough for you? what if i miss something important? what if i’m not the kind of father you can count on when the world is too loud, or when you’re unsure, or when you don’t have the words? what if i freeze in the moments that matter? your mother makes it look effortless. she carries you like it’s instinct. she speaks to you like you’re already here, part of every room we walk into. she reads to you. hums. she rubs her belly and smiles when you move, and i watch her and wonder how someone can be made so perfectly for something they’ve never done before. she is brave in a way that makes me want to be better. strong in a way that makes me believe i can be, too. and then i remember—she chose me. she trusted me with this life. with your lives. that thought alone humbles me. grounds me. there are nights when she’s asleep and i talk to you—just quiet things. soft words you probably don’t understand yet. but she told me something tonight that left me speechless: she said you move when i speak. that somehow, even now, you recognize my voice. that you already know i’m here. that you already listen. i can’t describe what that does to me. i’ve read hundreds of stories in my life, but nothing—nothing—has ever made me feel like that sentence did. i’m not perfect. i’ll make mistakes. i’ll probably be clumsy with diapers and pacing the floor at 3 a.m. i might get frustrated, overwhelmed, even scared. but i will always show up. i will always be there—with my whole heart, even on the days i don’t feel like i have enough to give. i love you both already. more than i knew i could. and i love your mother with every part of me, in a way that has only deepened now that you’re part of us. the two of you are the best thing i’ve ever helped create. you’ve changed everything, just by existing. one day, i hope you’ll read these letters and understand: your papa didn’t always have the answers. but he tried. and he loved you with everything he had—from the very beginning. love always, papa

you look up at akaashi, who has his head buried in the crook of your neck. he hasn’t said a word since you finished reading. his arms are wrapped around your waist, gentle but firm, as if grounding himself in the feel of you—warm, real, steady. his glasses are slightly askew, and you feel the faint brush of his breath against your skin, uneven and quiet.

you thread your fingers through his hair, slowly, soothingly, letting your nails graze lightly over his scalp. he leans into it, eyes closed, as if the simple motion is the only thing holding him together.

“keiji,” you murmur, voice soft but sure, “you’ll be a great dad.”

his breath catches against your skin, like he wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud—even though it’s written all over your touch, your presence, your love. he doesn’t say anything at first, just exhales slowly, fingers tightening ever so slightly where they rest around your waist.

“i don’t know what i’m doing,” he says quietly. “i keep thinking… what if i freeze? what if they cry and i can’t fix it? what if i say the wrong thing? or worse—what if i don’t say anything at all?”

you tilt your head, guiding him to look up at you. his lashes are damp. his expression is open in that rare way he only gives to you—no walls, no edits.

“you’ll figure it out,” you say gently. “not because you have to be perfect. but because you care enough to try. because you’re the kind of man who writes letters to two little humans who haven’t even taken their first breath. because even when you're afraid, you love without hesitation.”

akaashi swallows hard, his forehead pressing against yours.

“you don’t have to be ready for everything, keiji,” you continue, your palm resting over his heart. “you just have to be here. with us. with them. and you already are.”

you take his hand and bring it to your bump. right on cue, one of the twins kicks—a firm, steady little nudge beneath his touch. then another. akaashi lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh and a sob tangled into one.

“they’re saying hi,” you whisper. “they know you.”

“i don’t deserve this,” he says softly, voice cracking.

“you do,” you say firmly. “and they’re lucky. so lucky that you’re going to be their papa.”

he kisses you then—slow and grateful and full of the kind of quiet devotion he can never quite put into words. and when he pulls back, he touches your cheek like you’re still the best thing that ever happened to him. you lean into his hand, eyes searching his, and for a moment, nothing exists but the warmth between you. the steady, grounding presence of this man who has held you in every version of your life — now, holding you and something new, something becoming.

eventually, you reach to close the journal, fingers lingering on the final page. you’re about to place it gently back onto his desk when a loose sheet of paper slips from between the pages, fluttering to the floor like a secret.

you blink, surprised. “oh—” you lean forward, scooping it up carefully.

it’s not like the others. the handwriting is still his, unmistakable and elegant, but it doesn’t begin with dear little ones. there’s no date. no entry number. just a title at the top, scrawled like it had come out of him quickly, without editing.

to my love

your breath catches.

akaashi freezes behind you, arms still loosely wrapped around your waist. you feel the stillness in his body before he speaks, but when he does, his voice is low. almost shy.

“…you weren’t supposed to find that one yet.”

you turn in his arms slowly, meeting his gaze. “you wrote a letter to me?”

he looks away for a second. “i didn’t know how to say it out loud. so i… wrote it. just in case i couldn’t.”

you glance back down at the page, your heart thudding softly as you start to read:

to my love,

i meant to give this to you after everything had settled. when the hospital bags were unpacked. when the crying turned to soft coos. when our world—loud and sleepless and new—finally began to feel like home again. i kept this letter folded between pages of my journal, not hidden, but waiting.

because this was always meant to find you in the after.

after you became a mother.

after we became a family.

after i fell in love with you all over again in a hospital room filled with tiny breaths and tearful wonder.

you always said i was better at writing than speaking. but i’ve rewritten this more times than i care to admit. because no matter how many words i’ve mastered, they all fall short of you.

i don’t know when exactly i fell in love with you. the first night i noticed you was at that dinner bokuto forced you into. you were loud in the way sunlight is loud—bright, joyful, honest. you laughed like you didn’t care who heard it. like you wanted the world to hear. i’d never known laughter like that.

bokuto said something about you being “the smaller version of me,” but you weren’t. you were your own kind of loud—softer in your strength, brighter in your stillness. that night, i watched you from across the table, wondering how someone like you could exist in my world.

but i think i really started falling during practice. late nights. empty gyms. you’d linger nearby after team warm-downs, quiet and calm. i remember one evening in particular—i’d stayed behind, running drills again and again. you didn’t interrupt. just walked up, handed me a cold drink, and said, “you’re allowed to rest, you know.”

that was it. no small talk. no pressure. just you, seeing through me with the kind of kindness that doesn’t ask to be noticed. you made caring feel simple.

and then came spring nationals. our last tournament. i had written you a confession letter before the games started, tucked into my bag with the promise that if we won, i’d give it to you. but we lost. one step behind the champions.

i gave you the letter anyway.

you didn’t hesitate. you didn’t laugh. you just smiled and kissed me like i’d won something far greater than any title.

you became my anchor after that. especially when i stepped into the role of captain. everyone thought it suited me—quiet, collected, in control. what they didn’t see was how heavy leadership weighed when no one else was watching. every mistake felt amplified. every silence, like a failure.

you stayed. you noticed. you didn’t try to fix me—you just sat beside me. you made space for me to breathe. you were the reason i survived that year.

and then, you left.

when you got accepted into your dream school abroad, you looked at me like it might be the end of something. but i saw it differently. i was proud of you. i am proud of you. we promised to try, even with distance. and we did. for four long years, we tried. time zones and pixelated calls and missed birthdays and late-night messages.

i missed you more than i ever admitted.

so when your graduation came, i couldn’t stay away. i booked the flight, packed my suit, and flew across oceans to sit in the back of that auditorium just to watch you walk across that stage.

you didn’t know i was coming. and when you saw me after the ceremony, still in your cap and gown, you ran into my arms like the time and distance hadn’t touched us at all. you laughed against my neck, and i felt whole again.

we came home together after that. you weren’t sure what came next, but i was.

i took you out that spring night, under the cherry blossoms—just us, no cameras, no distractions. you wore that blue dress that made you look like you belonged in a poem. you kept your hands tucked into your sleeves and your cheeks were flushed from the wind.

i carried the ring in my pocket all night.

i waited for the perfect moment. but then you turned toward me, mid-laugh, with petals in your hair, and i realized—this was the perfect moment.

so i knelt down, nervous as hell, and asked you to stay. not just that night, not just that season. forever.

you said yes like you were waiting for me to ask.

our wedding was simple. intimate. just the people who had loved us through all our versions. and when you walked toward me, white dress glowing in the soft light of early afternoon, i swear i couldn’t breathe.

that was the day i stopped worrying about what i deserved. because i knew i would spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of you.

and then, somehow, you gave me even more.

you gave me them.

i watched you grow with them, speak to them like they were already your world. you’d hum lullabies you didn’t realize you were humming. you’d read out loud while editing manuscripts or folding laundry, and i’d watch you like you were magic.

and now that they’re here…

there’s a softness to you i’ve never seen before, even with all the years we’ve shared. the way you hold them. the way you instinctively calm them with your voice. the way they melt into you like they’ve known you forever.

because they have.

this is what i always wanted this letter to be—a reminder. not just of what we’ve survived, but of everything we’ve built. everything we’re still becoming.

i love you. more than the quiet mornings. more than the noisy nights. more than every poem i never finished.

and there are still little things—quiet things—i hope we always keep. like dancing to slow music in the kitchen after dinner, our hands tangled and bare feet moving across the floor, babies asleep, lights low, the world narrowed down to you and me and a song we’ve already forgotten by morning.

i hope when you're tired, when the days blur, when you start to question if you’re doing enough—you’ll reread this.

you gave me a life i didn’t know how to ask for. you made me a husband. a father. a better version of myself.

you are my beginning. you are my always.

and one day, when our children ask what love looks like, i will point to you.

forever yours, keiji

the letter trembles slightly in your hand as you finish the last word. the room is quiet save for the soft hum of the night beyond the windows and the slower rhythm of your breathing. you don’t speak for a long moment.

you just stay where you are—on his lap, arms loose around his shoulders, the weight of his love soaking into your skin like ink. your other hand drifts to your belly instinctively, even though it’s empty now. they're here now. they made it. you all did.

keiji stays still behind you, his arms circled protectively around your waist, chin resting lightly on your shoulder, waiting for you to say something. but his silence isn’t tense. it’s patient. reverent. like the act of letting you absorb this letter means more to him than the act of writing it ever did.

you finally exhale, and it sounds shaky in the quiet. "keiji…"

your voice is barely above a whisper.

you try to look at him, but your vision is glassy, so you blink hard and settle for turning just enough to press your forehead against his.

“that was…” you swallow thickly. “that was everything.”

akaashi doesn’t say anything at first. his hand runs gently along your spine, slow and grounding. “i meant every word,” he murmurs, voice rough around the edges. “even the ones i rewrote a dozen times.”

you let out a watery laugh, then choke on the sound halfway through. “you flew all the way to see me graduate, you idiot.”

“i would’ve flown twice as far.”

you shift to face him fully, legs still curled on either side of his hips, the letter folded loosely in your hand. his eyes search yours—worried, tender, waiting for more.

“i think i knew even then,” you admit softly, fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “when i saw you in the crowd… i think some part of me already knew i was going to spend the rest of my life loving you.”

his eyes soften, and his hands slip up to cradle your face. “then i guess we both knew.”

you lean forward and kiss him. not urgent. not rushed. just full. of everything. gratitude. memory. every version of love that doesn’t quite translate into words.

when you pull back, your voice is still hoarse. “they’re going to know. our kids. they’re going to grow up knowing how much we loved each other first.”

akaashi swallows, jaw tightening just slightly. “i hope so,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb beneath your eye.

“they’ll know.” you press your palm over his heart. “we’ll show them.”

then you glance at the letter again, tracing his signature at the bottom.

“you kept this all this time?” you whisper.

“i started writing it the moment we found out,” he admits. “after i saw the ultrasound in the manuscript you slipped in—subtle, by the way,” he adds with a faint smile. “i kept adding to it. every moment i couldn’t say it out loud.”

you stare at him, eyes full. “it’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given me.”

“i still think it’s you,” he replies softly. “you gave me everything.”

you press your forehead to his once more, and neither of you says anything for a long moment. just breathing each other in. letting the stillness settle.

then keiji kisses your cheek, slow and lingering, and whispers, “come on. let’s get you back to bed.”

you hum in agreement, reluctant to move but grateful for him all the same. his hands guide you gently as he helps you shift off his lap. he stands first, offering both hands to pull you to your feet like it’s instinct. one hand rests protectively at the small of your back as he walks with you, step by step, out of the office and down the quiet hallway.

the bedroom is dim, lit only by the faint glow of the bedside lamp. he pulls back the covers with practiced ease and helps you climb in, fluffing your pillow before you even ask. you settle back with a sigh, your body aching with the kind of tiredness that lives in your bones—but your heart, still full and soft, beats steady.

keiji kneels beside the bed before you can say anything, head resting gently against the curve of your belly.

“hey,” he murmurs softly, his voice almost shy. “you two awake?”

there’s a beat of silence. then—fluttering.

the smallest, lightest push from inside, and then another, a little stronger.

keiji’s eyes widen just slightly, lips parting. “they’re moving,” he says, barely above a whisper. his hand comes up to join his cheek against your stomach, fingers splayed wide.

you smile sleepily, hand resting over his. “they always do when you talk,” you murmur, amused. “they know your voice.”

his gaze flicks up to meet yours—startled, tender. “really?”

you nod, brushing his dark fringe from his forehead. “every time. it’s like they’re trying to find you.”

his expression crumples softly into something between awe and reverence. he kisses your belly—once, then again, then again, as if thank you isn’t enough.

“they’re strong,” he murmurs to your stomach, voice low and full of quiet wonder. “just like your mom.”

he pauses, hand still pressed firm and steady, eyes fluttering closed as another kick pushes against his palm. “i can’t wait to meet you both,” he says, the words so fragile and heartfelt it aches in your chest. “but stay in there a little longer, okay? we’ll be here when you’re ready. she’ll be here. and i’ll be here.”

you reach down and thread your fingers into his hair again, brushing gently along his scalp.

“you’ll be the best papa,” you whisper.

keiji kisses your skin one last time, then slowly rises to his feet. he leans over, kisses your lips, and tucks the blanket up over your belly with the same care he gives to his favorite books.

“rest,” he says, brushing your hair away from your temple. “i’ll be right here.”

he clicks off the lamp and slips into bed behind you, curling close, one arm slipping around your waist, the other resting lightly over your bump. his breath evens against the back of your neck, and the warmth of him—his words, his letter, his love—wraps around you like a promise.

you fall asleep to the soft press of his hand over your belly, the feeling of your twins stirring underneath it, and the silent certainty that you’ve built something beautiful—together.

always, together.

[judasisgayriot]

🐇Patrick Stump: High School Bunny Boy🐇

[bloodibambiidoll]

Nasty Girl ⟡˖ Older!Rafe Cameron x Perv!Reader ⟡˖

✰ Rafe is an arrogant dick, over a decade older than you and your dad’s boss, you shouldn’t want anything to do with him. So why can’t you stay away? ✰

۶♡ৎ This is a request from my angel @babygorewhore I love you sm, this one’s for you pookie ۶♡ৎ

✰ Age gap (Rafe is early 40s reader is mid 20s), Obsessive behaviors, perverted acts involving panties, gagging, choking, spit kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex, pussy slapping, pillow humping, pussy eating, cum eating, size kink 18+MNDI ✰

You can’t stand Rafe Cameron. And the fact that you’re so obsessed with him only makes you hate him more. No matter how much you hated the way he walked around like he owned the world, or the rotating door of women he brings around, you can’t shake this irresistible pull he has on you. You shouldn’t feel this way, not only is Rafe a huge dick he’s also over a decade older than you and your dad’s boss. It started off small, stealing glances at him every time you visited your dad at work, dressing in your most revealing dresses and skirts to his work events, making off handed comments and brushing past him when there was clearly room to go around. It wasn’t until you caught him in a bathroom with some lanky blonde bent over the counter while noises that resembled a crow left her body that you finally lost it.

You decided to leave the company charity event early, making sure to pass Rafe’s car and leave your tiny pink thong on his side-view mirror. He wouldn’t know they were yours, but he would know that they didn’t belong to the girl he was currently balls deep inside of because you saw her coral thong pushed to the side. After that it was like you couldn’t stop. You started leaving your panties anywhere you’d think Rafe would find them. In his office on his desk or the chair, his car became a favorite, you even managed to loop one around his drink while he wasn’t looking at the country club once. After the first few pairs you started leaving dirty photos of yourself along with them. Not showing your face, of course. Just shots of your ass and tits, always matching the underwear you planned to leave. You thought about maybe just texting or even emailing them to him but your dad gave him both of those things “in case of emergency”. So you decided to do it old school and take photos on your Polaroid. It was sexier that way, anyway.

But you haven’t done anything like what you’re about to do. You’re upstairs with the sound of loud voices all drowned together barely making it through the thick, high floors beneath you. It didn’t take you long to find Rafe’s room. A double door at the end of the long hall with gold ornate knobs was very clearly the master. You also weren’t surprised he had a keypad lock on his door, especially throwing a party like this. Your dad and his coworkers are everyday businessmen to the sivlian eye but behind closed doors they’re into some pretty deep criminal shit. Luckily you already managed to break into his laptop. It was almost too easy, he navigates technology like a grandpa even though he’s only forty. You had a passing thought about teaching him a more efficient way to organize his work laptop but you quickly shut it down. You’re supposed to hate him. Even if you him to fuck you until you can hardly breathe. He had a whole entire document of passwords and key combinations and you may have written all of them down. So you easily slipped inside after entering the numbers on the keypad.

You spent some time looking around and it was about what you expected. Sleek, expensive furniture, no decorations, the white walls bare aside from a random picture of a boat near the window. It's so clean it almost seems like no one lives here but you assume that’s probably due to the cleaners. You go through his drawers, nothing of interest really, unless you count all the clothes you could potentially steal. His bathroom is just as clean as his room and you can’t help but smirk when you notice a full skin care routine sitting on his counter. So vain. But, you can’t deny a man who is invested in his hygiene is extremely sexy. You smell his expensive colognes, his body wash, even his fucking shampoo. You inhale every single one like it’s your drug of choice. Though, you’re sure they smell a million times better on his skin, mixed with his musk.

After spending some time snooping, your focus turns back to the real reason you came in here. You walk into his large walk-in closet and flick on the light. There’s a glass jewelry case in the middle, filled with designer watches, rings, chains, and sunglasses. You approach it and try to pull open the top drawer when you’re met with resistance, you notice another combination lock. But a lightbulb goes off in your head, remembering the key code marked “jewelry case” before pulling out your phone, finding the numbers and unlocking the drawer with a click. The first drawer is, as expected, more jewelry that matches the items in the display case above. The second drawer though, that’s a different story. When you slide it open instead of expensive designer, it’s filled with lace and silk.

Every single pair of your panties you’ve left for him are in this drawer, along with the Polaroids stacked neatly. Upon closer inspection you notice that they’re covered not just in your cum, but his too. It has your pussy nearly dripping, you were already wet from the minute you saw him earlier tonight but now you can feel your slick dripping down your inner thighs, causing them to stick together under your micro dress. You have to practically drag yourself away from the sight of your underwear under lock and key, almost like they’re treasure, covered in a mixture of Rafe's cum and your own.

You look around the rest of the space and the entire span of the closet is lined with his clothes hanging on wracks. One side is clearly business attire and the other is more casual. Though there isn’t a huge difference, you’ve never seen Rafe in jeans and a t-shirt. You can’t decide if the thought is more sexy or comical. It’s hard to imagine him being well, relaxed. You grab a black button up before exiting the closet, undoing the buttons as you go. A thousand dirty fantasies run through your mind as your eyes roam over the king sized bed. But there’s one you can make a reality right now. The whole reason you came in here. You grab one of his silk pillows and wrap his shirt around it before placing it in the middle of the bed. You turn around to grab your Polaroid out of your bag and then crawl onto the mattress, mounting the pillow. You don’t bother taking your fuzzy platform heels off either, he can sleep on the grime from the bottom of your shoes along with the juices from your pussy for all you care.

You start off slow, running your hands along your body, groping your tits through the faux leather of your dress, imagining that they’re Rafe’s much larger hands. It doesn’t take you long to get worked up, your juices starting to make the cloth underneath you slick. You're so wet that when you start to jerk your hips back and forth on the pillow that you practically glide. The lace of your thong gets pulled tighter, adding extra pressure to your puffy clit. Your dress rides up your hips, revealing your ass and the plush of your thighs as your hips start to speed up. Once you start to really get into it you pull your panties to the side and yank the zipper that goes all the way down the front of your dress down your chest so your tits can spill out. You switch up the movement of your hips every few moments, rotating between using the pillow for leverage and running your hands down your body.

You start to get so lost in the throes of pleasure you almost forget where you are entirely until your white sock covered shin smacks against your pink polaroid camera. You smirk to yourself in remembrance as you pluck it from the bed and turn it on. You hold it above yourself while you press your tits together and spread your legs far enough to show your mound on top of his shirt and snap a photo. You take more than one this time, using almost the entire roll taking pictures of your body from various angles. You shove your fingers in your mouth. Take photos of your tiny thong string nestled between your ass. You even take one with his shirt held up between your teeth. That ends up being the last photo because the smell of his cologne hits your nostrils and it has you inhaling deeply while your hips start to subconsciously grind down again.

Rafe practically felt like a madman as he tried for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes to get out of this conversation with your father and their business partner. Every single time he tried to slip away he was pulled back in somehow. But that didn’t stop his eyes from traveling to the tantalizing view on his phone screen every ten seconds. He felt like a cat who caught a mouse it’s been chasing for months. All without even trying. You lead yourself into a trap he didn’t even set and it couldn’t be more fucking perfect. The fact that you had no idea that his entire house was bugged with cameras that he could see directly in the palm of his hand made his cock twitch. Rafe checked his phone the minute he got the notification that someone was unlocking his bedroom door, ready to send security up there to grab a thief. But he was oh so pleasantly surprised when he saw it was you. You weren’t like any of the other girls he’s ever seen in all his time living on this island. Your platform shoes and dark make-up were utterly enticing to him and your bratty attitude made him want to bend you over his knee until you cried. He also knew you were a naughty girl, with a dirty little secret only he knew. Rafe’s obsession for you only grew by the day and now it was at an all time high.

He decided to let it play out for a bit. He watched as you surveyed his blank walls and rummaged through his drawers. Then you made your way into the bathroom and he watched as you greedily inhaled his colognes and body washes. You went into his closet and somehow unlocked his jewelry case. He’d have to figure out how you managed to learn his key codes later. His heartbeat sped up when you reached for the second drawer but the way you looked down at the trophies you had ever so graciously gifted him with elation only made his appetite for you nearly unbearable. What really sent him over the edge though was how you were currently strandling his pillow as you bucked your hips with his shirt held to your nose.

The entire scene had him losing his mind with lust and you just kept taking it further. He watched you pull your tits out, the way you took all those slutty pictures for him and he wished more than anything in the world he could turn his phone up to full volume so he could hear the pretty little moans leaving your lips. He could tell from the avid speed of your hips and the way your eyes are rolled back that you’re close to your end and he’ll be damned if he isn’t there to see it. He finally excuses himself under the guise of having to go to the bathroom and slips up the large staircase with ease.

You're so close. The pace of your hips is so quick that the entire bed shakes underneath you as delicious euphoria is seconds away. You have the corner of Rafe’s shirt grasped tightly in your fist as you hold it up to your nose. The cloth is pulled taunt against your clit just right, drool drips down your chin onto the black material as you take in Rafe’s scent. Heat washes over you and you moan with reckless abandon, too lost in your tidal wave of an orgasm to care if anyone can hear you.

“I knew you were a dirty girl, but this is even better than anything my mind ever could’a dreamed up…” The sound of Rafe’s voice makes you practically scream and you clutch his shirt over your chest on instinct. Your entire body heats as you take in his large form leaning against the closed bedroom door. His arms are crossed and he has probably the most smug smirk you’ve ever seen in your life painted on his face as he looks over at you through hooded eyes.

“Rafe! I - aren’t you supposed to be hosting a party?” You scoff and roll your eyes, clearly trying to change the subject when you’re the one who broke into his room.

“Well… you see…” Rafe stalks over to you like a predator that caught his prey and stops at the end of the bed. He places his large hands on the mattress so he can lean down only inches from your face, his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip as his eyes travel down your body before connecting with your own. “This little unassuming mouse wandered into my den without even considering that I have eyes on every inch of this house.”

“How - how long have you been watching?” You clutch onto the shirt tighter, hiding your boobs and bare pussy even though he’s already seen both on multiple occasions. Something about him knowing it was you was making you suddenly nervous.

“Oh, sweetheart, I get a notification when someone opens that door… I saw everything. What do we have here?” His eyes are blue fire as they land on the Polaroids and he picks one up with delight before picking up another and another until he’s seen every single one. He sets them aside in a neat stack before abruptly gripping onto the shirt covering you and ripping it down your body with a growl. You gasp in surprise and use your arms to cover your nipples while slamming your legs shut. “Oh, no, none of that. Don’t get all shy on me now, I’ve already seen it all.” Rafe grabs the pillow and pulls it from underneath you causing you to fall backwards on the bed onto your ass. “Would you look at that…” He looks down at the pillow with hungry fascination as a low groan rumbles through his chest. You watch as he runs the pad of his finger through the creamy wetness before bringing it to his mouth and holding eye contact with you as he sucks it between his lips. His eyes immediately roll back when your taste hits his tongue. “Fuckin’ delicious. But I’m always tastin’ you secondhand.. I can’t wait to taste that sweet pussy directly from the source.”

You’re utterly stunned for a moment. You look up at him with your jaw hanging open while you do your best to cover your most intimate parts when all you want to do is throw your legs open and fully submit to him. You always told yourself if he ever caught you that you would make him work for it. But with the way he’s looking at you now? You can already feel yourself slipping and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“Who - who said I was going to let you taste me? And what do you mean secondhand?” You tried to say it in a biting tone but your voice squeaks and betrays your facade immediately.

“Oh, little mouse… this little back and forth we’ve been playing has been fun and all. But now you’ve wandered right into my bed and I’m done playing games.” Rafe abruptly grabs onto your ankles, pulling you down to the edge of the bed until your feet are dangling off and you try to pull your knees together again but he grips onto them and pulls them back open. “Quit hiding from me.”

His hands grip tightly onto the meat of your thighs, the gold rings on his fingers pinching your skin in a way that has you holding back a moan. The look in Rafe’s eyes is nearly animalistic as he stares down at your puffy, wet pussy. Your little black thong pushed to the side, covered in creamy, white juices. His fingertips travel down your legs gripping hard enough to bruise with every inch. He brings his thumbs to the crevices of your thighs and presses his fingers hard on either side of your folds, pushing your pussy lips together. You can’t hold in the tiny mewl that leaves the back of your throat. He punches your slick cunt together roughly a few times before pulling you apart. Your pussy clicks for him from your wetness as he pulls you open.

“Been waiting for this moment, ya know?” Rafe runs his thumb along your slit, gathering your wetness before bringing his thumbs to rub along the sides of your lips, teasing you. “I knew it was you. I had my suspicions from the beginning. Ever since you walked in on me in the bathroom…”

“How?” Your voice is a broken whisper, any thoughts of fighting back slipping further and further from your mind. Embarrassingly enough, you feel like you could come from just this.

“Well, I was almost positive after that cute little cherry thong…” Rafe grazes over your clit for just a moment before going back to teasing you. “Earlier that day you were wearing these sexy little jeans and when you bent over I got a view of that same thong. Then, to my surprise, the very same pair ended up in my office later that day.” He presses hard on your clit, giving it a few strokes and you think his teasing has finally come to an end but as soon as it’s there, it’s gone. And he goes back to teasing your pussy tantalizingly. “But then, about a week later I saw you sneaking out of my office and I decided to let you get away with it.”

“You decided?” You push yourself up on your elbows and scoff with your eyebrow raised, your irritation with him returning. Rafe just smirks before shoving his thumb knuckle deep in your pussy and curving it against your walls. It makes your eyes roll back while you wriggle underneath him.

“Yes, princess, I decided.” His other thumb presses on your clit hard but doesn’t move. “Once I was positive it was you, I wasn’t ready for it to stop. Especially once you started leaving those little pictures for me. Who knew you were such a dirty slut.” He pulls his fingers from you before landing a harsh smack on your clit causing you to yelp.

“So you knew it was me and didn’t say anything? And then proceeded to keep them in a treasure box and jerk off all over them? Pervert.” Rafe slaps your pussy again, three times in succession.

“Stop being a fuckin’ brat. If I’m a pervert, what does that make you, huh?” He slaps your pussy even harder and then brings both of his hands down on your inner thighs with a loud smack. “Leaving me your panties, takin’ dirty photos for me, I saw you inhaling my cologne like it was a line of coke. And now I caught you in my bed, coming all over my pillow. You’re a nasty. Little. Girl.” He punctuates each word with a slap to your cunt and you can’t help but moan loudly for him.

“Yeah? Well you’re a nasty old man.” Your chest heaves but you still manage to paint a cheshire smirk on your face, your eyes twinkling with mischief as you use the last of your resolve against him.

“You know what? I’m sick of your bratty fuckin’ mouth.” Rafe grips onto the thin strings of your panties and pulls them down your legs before balling them up and shoving them in your mouth. The sudden intrusion makes you gag, but it’s not unwelcome. The act of dominance and the taste of yourself on your tongue has any and all attitude in you evaporating from your body. He grabs your chin and roughly shakes your head side to side. “That’s better. You gonna be a good girl and let me taste that perfect cunt now or do I need to beat the attitude out of you?”

You moan around the lace in your mouth and drop your knees to the sides, offering yourself to him. Rafe looks at you devilishly as he lays on his stomach on the mattress and throws your legs over his shoulders. He runs his nose along your inner thigh as he takes in your sweet scent before hovering over your pussy and inhaling deeply.

“Smell so fuckin’ sweet, bet you taste even sweeter.” The flat Rafe’s runs through your folds up to your clit before circling it a few times. He nips it with his teeth and shoves his tongue as far as it can go inside of you causing you to cry out and arch your back off the mattress.

“Quit wiggling.” Rafe growls into your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. His large hand splay on your hip, holding you down as he eats you like a man starved. He circles two fingers at your entrance before pressing them knuckle deep inside of you. He caresses your sweet spot while sucking your clit into his mouth and it has an explosion of pleasure washing over your body as your orgasm consumes you.

Rafe pulls off of you when you come down from your high and brings the fingers that were just inside you to his chin dripping with your juices. He smears it around before sucking his fingers clean, groaning like he just ate the best meal of his life. He leans forward and plucks the panties from your mouth before slamming his lips against yours. The kiss is dominating and he shoves his tongue deep into your mouth, swirling it around and coating your taste buds with your own cum. He leans back to admire you and he feels like his cock is going to burst. Your hair is a mess, your dark lipstick is smudged and slick, and the zipper on that tight little dress is barely hanging on. Your tits are on full display as you lay like a perverted little angel with your legs spread beneath him.

“God damn. I’ve gotta fuck that pussy, baby.” Rafe pulls the zipper of your dress the rest of the way down before leaning up on his knees and reaching for the buttons on his shirt. “Take that shit off. Leave the socks and shoes though.”

He licks his lips as he continues to unbutton his shirt while his eyes practically swallow you whole. You quickly rid yourself of your dress and push yourself up onto your knees to watch him undress. You have to stop yourself from jumping him when he gets his shirt all the way off, his perfectly toned body towering over you. When he gets his pants down enough to get his cock out you can’t even hold in your gasp. He’s huge. So thick you aren’t sure you could wrap a single hand around him and so long that you aren’t sure if you could take him all down your throat.

“Fuck. I don’t know if that’s going to fit…” Your eyes are the sizes of saucers as you stare at his cock with your jaw slack. Those words make Rafe feel like he’s going to go insane and his hand flies to your hair, grasping onto it at the nape of your neck and yanking your head back.

“Oh, it’ll fit.” His tongue slides over his teeth and he takes his shaft in his hand so he can rub his precum along your lips, adding to the mess. Rafe uses his grip on your head to manhandle you onto your back before throwing your legs over his shoulders. He smirks down at you while he pumps himself in his hand. “You want it?”

“Yes, fuck. I want it so bad.” You tilt your hips towards him searching for any kind of friction but his hand presses down on your hip, stilling your movements.

“Oh, come on, baby doll. You can do better than that. How bad do you want it?” He taps the head of his cock against your clit a few times before running it through your folds. You try to angle your hips to push him further inside of you and he just tuts at you like you did something naughty before pulling his cock away entirely. “Let me hear it, beg.”

“Please, daddy, I want it so bad.” Rafe breathes out heavily through his nostrils and grips onto your throat, leaning down so his face is inches from yours.

“Oh, little mouse.. you’re just full of surprises, huh? I don’t think you know what you’ve done.” Rafe chuckles darkly and leans back up onto his knees, positioning his cock at your entrance. He presses his head into you and he’s so thick you already feel so full by the time he’s only a few inches in.

“Oh, god. I don’t - I really don’t know if it’s all going to fit.” The air is nearly taken out of your lungs when he thrusts his hips forward and you’re sure he’s all the way inside of you now but he pulls almost all the way out before slamming his cock into you to the hilt with his hips flush against yours. “Holy shit, oh my god.”

“I thought you wanted it so bad, now you’re whining that it won’t fit? I’m gonna fuckin’ make it fit and you’re gonna take it like the dirty little slut you are.” Rafe rams his hips into yours at a brutal pace as he grips onto your throat again and squeezes tightly. His free hand comes to rub circles on your clit and it makes your vision blur. “Yeah fuckin, take it. You gonna come for me? I can feel your pussy squeezing me. You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

“Yes, fuck daddy, please make me cum.” Your voice is a broken sob as your makeup smears messily down your face. “I’m so fucking full.”

“Yeah, that’s right, sweet thing. Give me your cum.” That’s all it takes to have an all consuming orgasm washing over you. Your walls convulse around Rafe’s thick length and he picks up his thrusts, chasing his own high. He uses his grip on your throat to press you down into the mattress and your legs fall down onto his hips. You lace them around him and this new angle has him hitting so deep you swear you’re going to feel him for days. The hand not on your throat hooks onto your bottom teeth, pulling your jaw open so he can spit on your tongue. You swallow without asking and then suck his fingers into your mouth greedily.

“You’re so fuckin’ nasty, ya know that? Letting your dad’s boss fuck you till you cry while he’s right down stairs. Leaving me your little fuckin’ panties. This perfect god damn pussy.” Rafe is babbling like a man possessed as he pumps into you hard and deep until his cock starts to twitch inside you. He growls as he fills you with ropes of his cum. When he pulls out you feel nearly hollow and then he shoves his fingers knuckle deep inside of you, collecting some of his cum on his fingers. You pull his hand back to your mouth and lick his fingers, moaning at your combined tastes.

“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you, little mouse.” Rafe stares down at you with a hunger that’s laced with obsession and you don’t even care because you’re just as obsessed as he is. “You’re mine now.”

Taglist: @nemesyaaa @strawberrydolly333 @sturnioloshacker @loserboysandlithium @gri959 @rafeinterlude @xoxohoneymoongirl @tacymbcm @bunnies-p1tst0p @starkeysprincess

Dividers by @anitalenia

[lavenderspence]

Missing the happy hormone | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: emotional reader, period mention, fluff

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Apparently Spencer Reid could make anything better - even the emotional disaster of being on your period

A/N: First, huge thank you to the cutie that sent in this request, you literally caught me while on my period so this was born. Also, here’s to my inability to write short fics, this is your only warning that i can make and will make anything long, lol. Also, my titles suck omg. And shoutout to my crazy bestie for making me a Mamma Mia girly, she rocks.

But also, happy one month to this blog! When I carved out this little space for myself a month ago I wasn’t really sure how I’d feel being back here and writing again, but so far it’s been a treat. A huge thank you for all of your support and love and thank you to my mutuals and everyone that interacted with my blog. 💕 Here’s to many more months to come!

Request: spencer x fem!reader on her period/ovulating and shes in tears all the time?? Im ovulating and have been crying for hours and keep calling my mom lmaoo he’d been so lovely and sweet I know it I can feel it in my bones

masterlist

It was a slow day at the BAU. The most exciting thing in the 6 hours Spencer had spent at work was Rossi’s invitation to dinner the following weekend. 

Paperwork had piled high after their last 2 cases, so every team member was hunched over their desk, writing and revising reports. It was a never-ending cycle - finish a report, close the file, open a new one, and start all over again.

His eyes had started getting tired after four and a half hours, his hand had started cramping and he was down two pens so far, yet there was still a prominent pile on his desk.

He suspected Morgan and Emily might have pushed a file or two from theirs onto his load, seeing as he was getting done the fastest. Regardless, every few hours JJ was bringing even more to pile on top of everything that wasn’t finished, so buried in paperwork they stayed - no matter how fast he wrote or read, or how used to the load he was.

He was just thinking about getting up to prepare a fresh pot of coffee so he could function properly for a few more hours when his phone started ringing. He felt around the pockets of his suit jacket, where it sat draped on his chair, and then pulled it free. 

His display showed an incoming call, a picture of you as he hugged you, hands around your middle and face almost buried into your neck, a soft smile gracing both your faces. A scenery rich with reds, browns, and yellows stood behind you, the beauty of fall was nothing short of spectacular. 

The picture you’d taken last year when the team spent a weekend at Rossi’s cabin in the woods, surrounded by the beauty of landscapes and leaves, nature for miles. 

He accepted the call right away, a small smile on his face. 

“Hey sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, if a little raspy from misuse. He hadn’t talked much in the last few hours - just a distracted short answer here or a hum there. He was happy you were calling, though, welcoming the reprieve from the most recent report. 

It was silent for a few seconds, and he wondered absentmindedly if maybe you hadn’t called him on accident, and then there came a tiny little sniffle from your side. 

“Sweetheart?” He prompted, “Are you there? What’s going on?” Worry was starting to creep into the base of his spine, but he still remained calm and kept his voice gentle. 

“I’m here. Hi.” Another small sniffle, “All’s good. Just…I was just wondering how much longer you’d be gone.” Your voice was small,like you thought you might upset him by asking, and a little crackly, like you yourself were upset about something. 

His eyebrows furrowed, and he checked the time quickly - 3:57 pm. 

“Probably about two more hours, there’s a lot of paperwork we need to go through.” His eyes met Emily’s as she sent him a curious, questioning look. 

“Oh, okay.” The resignation was clear in your voice, “I’ll see you later then.” The call ended abruptly, and it took him a second to catch up.

He couldn’t help but feel like not everything was as good as you claimed it was. For one, you rarely called to ask when he’d be home - you knew his work could span into the late hours, or even stretch for days. You let him update you on any changes in his work schedule. 

In your interactions, your voice was usually upbeat and teasing - especially on the phone. Your kindness was always evident in your voice, as was your mood. You were a sunshine person, if he ever met one, that’s probably why you and Penelope formed such a close bond upon meeting. 

There was something that nagged him - a change in your mood he could pick up on just by your voice - too low, too small, and the cracks that he could now identify as he replayed your conversation in his head. You were keeping yourself from crying out, and yet there was nothing more apparent than the tears in your voice. And that made him worry. 

“Reid, are you okay?” Emily’s voice snapped him from the hard stare he’d been giving his phone in the last several minutes since the call ended. 

“I…I don’t know.” His eye twitched, and he cleared his throat before he tried and failed to articulate exactly what was happening - he himself had a hard time understanding. One thing he knew was that he needed to get home. “I..um, I need to go. Can you, please?” He asked, gusting at the remaining three files on his desk before he pulled his suit jacket on and grabbed his satchel. 

Morgan and Emily shared a mildly concerned look before they both nodded their heads, “Yeah, go. Text to let us know if everything is okay.” Morgan reminded him before he exited the bullpen with a fast step and tried to keep calm.

He was aware the situation wasn’t anything that he needed to be incredibly worried over - if something was really wrong, he knew you would have let him know. Yet, he couldn’t help the way his heart constricted by the sound of your voice, or the overwhelming desire to come home and gently hold you, see what could have caused this behavior. 

You were curled up on the couch, watching as Donna helped Sophie get ready for her wedding, the gentle melody of “Slipping through my fingers” filling the empty apartment. Your eyes were watering, to the point that everything was starting to get blurry. A shaky exhale left your lips.

Today has simply been a rollercoaster. Kissing Spencer goodbye this morning was the highlight of the day. What followed was nothing short of an emotional disaster. 

You’d teared up during breakfast, images of picking berries with Spencer flying through your mind. The desire to make it a reality was strong. 

Following that had come the overwhelming urge to bawl your eyes out, for no apparent reason whatsoever. Just cry and cry until you had it all emptied out and you could take a deep breath and continue with your day. So, cry you did, and then you’d finished with your chores for the day. 

Apparently letting it all out and emptying your tear supply hadn’t happened. Seeing as around 3:30 you’d started missing your boyfriend so much, the need to hear his voice had won out, so you’d called him. You felt the need to have him home to hold you because this month’s visit from mother flow was making you feel like a crybaby.

But then there was disappointment at the notion that you needed to wait close to 3 hours before that could happen. So you quickly ended the call before he could pick up on the tone of your voice, and then you shed a few tears. 

Now here you were, rewatching Mamma Mia because you really needed a pick me up, and once again, eyes shining as the tears started falling. At this point, it was a losing battle, so you let them fall, humming to the song with a broken voice. 

That’s exactly how Spencer found you, not a minute later. His keys were in his hand, the satchel on his shoulder, and he was just a little bit out of breath. 

The moment his eyes met you, they softened as he dropped everything and sat down next to you. His hand reached up and he cradled the side of your face, wiping your tears away. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper.

“Look at Donna painting Sophie’s nails, it’s...” You hiccuped, another wave of tears washing over you. “And you’re home, why are you home?” Your question was met with a furrow in his brow, as his thumbs continued wiping underneath your eyes. 

“You called.” He answered simply. 

“But you said-” He stopped you before you could finish your sentence.

“I did, yes. But you sounded off and sad, so. Want to tell me what’s going on?” He prompted you gently as he pushed your hair back and pulled you into his lap after, feeling like you needed the physical contact. 

You weren’t ashamed to admit it, per se, but you were ashamed that your hormones had caused him to leave work and race home to be with you. 

“It’s my period,” you mumbled, hands wrapping around his neck as you hid your face in his chest, too tired to prevent your eyes from watering again. “It’s been going on all day. Randomly, I’d just get so emotional, and the tears would start. I was missing you so much too, and then hearing the song, bam, tears again. I’m so done with this Spence.” You sounded barely coherent, with your face pushed as close to him as possible. 

It all made sense now, you’d been cranky a few days ago, and then you’d told him last night your cramps were unbearable, so he knew you were on your period, but right now he felt like an idiot for not figuring it out himself. 

“It’s okay, everything is fine. The drop in estrogen and progesterone, following your ovulation triggered this. This in turn reduced the production of serotonin, your happy hormone. So, we just need to boost it a bit.” He whispered into your ear as you played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. 

“How?” You sighed into his chest, almost being able to pick up on the sound of his heartbeat.

He got deep in thought for a few seconds as you breathed in his scent, and a sense of calmness slowly overtook you now that he was home and holding you. One of his hands was running soothing circles on your back as the other held your hand, fingers interlocked. 

“How about we take a trip to the store and get you some snacks? We’ll pick up dinner on the way home and then I'll hold you some more and you'll pick a movie for us to watch.” He suggested, kissing the crown of your head once, twice, and many more times until you gave him an answer. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think that would help, but just having you here has done wonders.” You finally laid your head against his chest, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiled, and so did you. Having him here really had helped immensely, and when had it not? He was your other half, your rock, and even when your emotions ran rampant or you were feeling down, just his presence, his touch, and his understanding were enough to make it all okay. 

Later in the evening, Penelope sent you a photo of Sergio sleep-hugging a little plushy you’d gotten him, and the waterworks started all over again. Luckily, Spencer was there, wiping your tears and kissing your head, saying a thousand things without actually speaking a word.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Requests are open for both Spencer and Hotch if you want to send any!

[heetos]

plushies and headsets? ･ﾟﾟ･｡

pairing- best friend!heeseung x tiny!afab!reader

synopsis - no one expected that a mall trip with your best friend, where you spot your favorite plushy store, could end up in him making you cum all over his sheets.

tw - size kink (he's huge), tiny reader, plushy humping, masturbation, cursing, use of nicknames, best friends down bad, lmk if i missed something!!!

word count - 1.9k

a/n - stop i hate this aahhh!!! seems like u guys like huge hee n soft toys ;) i love making manly guys crazy for girly girls.. pls lmk your thoughts rahh :3

taglist - @whowantshota

as the weekends roll around, you find yourself at heeseung's house, watching him furiously click away on his keyboard.

you know he's your best friend, but he looks ethereal like this. messy hair from his headset moving around, his bangs a little sweaty from the match, his shirt sitting perfect on top of him, his thighs spread out on his chair as he cusses at his screen.

"fuck" he hisses, missing another hit as his eyes remain glued to his screen.

you know he's your best friend, but why do you clench your thighs together whenever he cusses?

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

heeseung's a big guy, much much larger than you. his hands, twice the size of your small ones, his face, beyond your reach.

"hee!!" you pout and look up at him after reapplying your lip gloss, eyes twinkling, batting your pretty eyelashes up at him. "is it too much..?"

to say heeseung is in love is an understatement. he's in awe as he finds himself zoned out looking at your tiny figure under him. he just wants to put his arms around your tiny waist, pick you up and kiss the lip gloss off your lips.

"hee..?" you whisper, blinking up at him, you find him zoned out with his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"oh... y-yeah.. looks great.." he manages to say, turning his eyes away from you to look at the plushie store. "why do you even need that, just lick your lips, same effect"

"ay! stop i paid $45 for this!!" your small fists land a punch at his muscular arm. you look at where his eyes are fixated, making you gasp. "plushies! i need to buy a new one!" you grab his arm, dragging him to the store as you run towards it, your cute little skirt riding upwards at your excitement.

heeseung feels warmth rush to his cheeks as he sees your tiny fingers struggle to grip onto his arm. your giggly state slowly making him lose his character.

your eyes sparkle as you enter the store, looking around for various types of plushies. "why do you even need these??, you've got like 4 already!" he huffs biting down his smile that naturally spreads across his face looking at you. "they're just full of cotton if didn't you know"

"woahh! i didn't know, i've been buying ones full of rocks all this while" you grit your teeth at him and slap his arm as he winces in pain.

"ugh you've got way too much strength for your tiny ass" he rolls his eyes and goes back to his phone, moving his thumbs around his screen, distracting himself from getting smitten by you.

25 minutes later, and you're still picking out the perfect new plush. debating weather you should get the cute strawberry one or the panda one. "heeseungggggg!!!"

"what" his blunt tone makes you pout up at him. when he removes his eyes from his phone, he chuckles loudly as his eyes meet your figure, completely hidden by the two large plushies in your arms.

"whatt!!" your voice comes out muffled behind the toys.

"nothing you look stupid as hell, what's taking you so long?"

"help me pick!!! they're both too cute!!" you tiptoe your way out of the plushies to look up at him properly.

"i literally saw a panda with a strawberry plush on your desk the other day" he sighs "just wait outside, i'll pick one out for you yeah?"

"really?" your eyes widen as you give him the biggest smile. "you better not pick an ugly one or else i'll beat you into a plush right here"

"fine geez i'll pick something 'cute' " he says visibly cringing at himself. taking the plushies out of your arms, smiling at how they now appear normal sized in his hold, he notices you walking out and opening your phone to call someone.

"fuck she's so cute" he mutters under his breath as he scans the store. maybe he's doing this for himself, just trying to get home quicker, but deep down he knows he's fucked with the way you jump excitedly.

"cute? what's cute..." with his hands in his pockets, he looks at some of them, imagining your cunt grinding against it. lewd thoughts flood his head even when he's trying not to think about you like that. "ugh i'll just get this weird ass bear" he pays for it quickly, rushing back to you.

"here idiot, take it" he hands the normal sized bear over to you while looking away.

"oh my god!!! hee!!!" you gasp, jumping up and down smiling and hugging the bear which almost covers your face. "it's adorable! i didn't think of this!!"

oh he's gone, he's so gone, he's so in love and is so visibly blushing at you. blood rushes to his cock once you jump up and down with it, "told you you'd like it" he chuckles, holding you down. "let's get home now i'll miss my game"

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

you're now sitting on his bed, with your new bear in your hand as you watch heeseung from afar. you tilt your head like a puppy, looking at heeseung grunt and cuss at his screen, the movements of his fingers on the keyboard speeding up. "goddamn he's hot.." you mutter under your breath, trying to distract yourself from the heat thats beginning to build between your legs.

"ah fuck yes" he growls and runs his hands through his hair, putting his headphones back on as he makes a headshot.

the moment he curses, you find yourself slowly bringing your bear down in between your legs, trying to relieve some tension. "oh shit.." you whisper softly as you shudder from the sudden pleasure.

subconsciously, you wrap your legs around the soft plush and push your hips into it. you gasp as you let out a sudden soft moan at the feeling. you're so lost in the pleasure the soft bear is giving to your clit that you don't notice heeseung's mouth wide open staring at you.

"you have some nerve doing that in my bed" he scoffs, removing his headset as he adjusts himself in his chair, spreading his legs. he eyes full of lust as he fixates on your tiny body squirming in his bed.

heat rushes to your cheeks when you notice him getting comfortable to watch you. you feel yourself getting embarrassingly wet as his eyes land at where your cunt meets the bear. its exactly what he imagined, his lewd thoughts are finally coming to life. you're grinding against the bear he bought for you? in his room? looking at him?

"baby...go ahead and strip for me?"

its embarrassing how fast you comply, getting up and swiftly taking your shirt off, sliding down your shorts until you're left with a pink lace bra and baby pink underwear. "hee... what do you what me to do baby..?"

its crazy how fast the tension in the room shifted. two seconds ago you were squeezing your thighs together at him and now he's commanding you to get off. heeseung mutters out a soft moan when he sees your perfect tiny body, your pretty lips pouting at him, waiting for him to corrupt you. his hands slowly reach his pants, your eagerness going straight to his cock. "show me how you get off on it doll "

your cheeks flush red at his order. you bite your bottom lip as you tug your panties off. he groans when he sees a string of your arousal sticking to it. you slowly raise your hips as you keep the plush between your legs. the soft material coming in direct contact with your clit makes you roll your eyes back as you position yourself over it, lowering yourself slowly onto the fabric. "like this hee..?"

"oh fuck yeah' just like that baby" he throws his head back at the site, his cock twitching in anticipation. "you're so fuckin' cute baby" he whispers hoarsely. the precum stain forming a patch and deepening the color of his grey sweatpants.

you begin to grind your hips against the pillow, moaning softly as you watch his huge cock become visibly hard under his pants. "a-ah f-fuck..hee.. feels s-so good.." you whimper, eyes shut as you hump your plushy, putting on a show for him.

he watches every move of yours with hooded eyes, his tongue licking his lips as he draws his hand towards his cock, growing painfully hard by second. "oh you're so so sexy" he moans out as his hand comes in contact with his dick. "you-fuck-drive me fuckin' crazy princess" he growls as he throws his head back, squeezing his aching tip.

you lean forward, supporting yourself with one hand while using the other to grip the head of the plush. "n-gh一fuck-d-does it.. does it feel g-good for you too heeseung..?" you moan out his name opening your eyes and looking directly into his hooded eyes.

"fuck baby yeah' feels so good" his name has never sounded so fucking good coming from someone. something about your tiny fucking body humping his on huge fucking bed while moaning his fucking name sends him into a frenzy. he bites his lips as he looks directly into your eyes. "oh fuck sake" he mutters quickly as he removes his sweatpants and slides his boxers down. his dick rock solid as he trails his huge palm over it. "a-h baby.. you're s-so fuckin' hot" he barely lets out, his eyes focused on every single movement of your tiny body fucking yourself on a plush.

eyes widening, you gasp as you watch heeseung take his pants off, revealing his huge. fucking. cock. with a blood red tip aching to cum. you almost fall over with the image of his cock right in front of you. "fuck一 you're s-so huge.." you whine as you regain your balance and shut your eyes, riding the plush as if your life depends on it. you rock your hips back and forth rhythmically, the material soaked with your arousal, creating friction against your clit as you feel the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten. you move your tiny hands over to your tits as you speed up your movements.

"god fuckk" heeseung moans at the site, his hard cock covered in precum as he jerks himself up and down slowly, trying to match your rhythm. "shit一ah- cum for me doll" he groans loudly as he watches you rut against the plushy desperately. he has never wanted to be a piece of cotton so bad. he wants to be under you, he wants his face to be under you. he wants you to grind yourself down on his face, suffocate him, cum all over his face. "make a -fuck- make a mess baby" he groans out loud as he watches you edge closer and closer to your orgasm.

your body jerks forward as you grope your tit harshly. "f-fuckkkk.. h-heeseung!! -ah- 'm gnna cum!" drool spilling from your mouth, you look at him and let out a loud pornographic moan as you cum undone on the plushy.

your tiny body feeling weak from the intense orgasm, you fall on his bed but he catches you before you could hit the bed. "hee..." you whine breathlessly as your chest heaves up and down. he hovers over you, his huge body towering over your smaller one. he gently places a kiss on your forehead. "you're the prettiest and sexiest girl ever i swear to god" he smiles as his eyes turn over to the cum-covered abandoned plushy.

you flash him a soft smile, batting up your eyelashes at him, before feeling his rock hard dick grazing over your thigh.

"ready to get ruined by me now?"

end.

[monstersflashlight]

The curse (part 4)

A/N: You can find part 1 here, part 2 here and part 3 here. Enjoy!

Demon x fem!reader || sfw

Waking up by a demon running around the room was a first.

He fucked you three times during the night, excusing himself saying he needed to make sure you were still in one piece and the curse didn’t affect you, too. But you knew better after the first time he did it. As much as you liked his head between your legs and the delicious way he fucked you dumb, you needed rest to be able to take down whatever wards were in place at the bookstore.

But still, you woke up in a foggy state, with a huge demon pacing up and down the room. It shouldn’t be comical, but the second you saw him nibbling at his claws, you broke down in the most hysterical laughter you ever let out. It felt so otherworldly and mundane at the same time, the way he was just… biting his nails.

He stared at you while you held your stomach with a hand and let your whole body radiate with laughter. “Are you done laughing at me?” He asked, a tiny smile playing on his lips.

“Why were you pacing?” You asked after your breathing came back to normal and your eyes weren’t teary with amusement anymore.

His words were like a bucket of ice water over you: “I’m worried. With each passing second you could be in danger because you’ve been here a lot more than any other creature apart from me. I’m just… getting anxious.” You walked up to him, wearing nothing but one of his over-sized shirts with holes cut on the back.

“Nothing will happen. See? I’m completely fine,” you told him as you approached and hugged his middle. He held your face between his too big hands as you sighed happily. His eyes softened looking down at you, but you could still see the hint of fear in the depths of his eyes.

He kissed your forehead and said nothing, staring into the distance as your bodies merged in an embrace that made your insides twist and turn with longing. You wanted to be able to do this outside. You wanted to make out with him in public, you wanted to bring him to your workplace Christmas dinner, you wanted to have him met your family, your friends…

He pulled back and grabbed your hand, directing you to the little kitchenette he had at the back of the bookstore. He didn’t have much, but it was enough to cook a few things. You wondered how he got the ingredients, but before you could ask he was telling you about food delivery. You nodded absently, sitting down on a stool as he moved around the kitchen. It was too small to walk around him, so you stared at his wings as he moved and prepared whatever.

“I’m getting you out of here today,” you announced as he passed you a mug with coffee and a hint of cream.

“We’ll try, little human. But if we don’t find a way out, you’re leaving. I don’t want you subjected to the curse, too, and we don’t know how can it affect you if you stay here for much longer,” his worry permeated his words and your heart constricted. Fuck, you were so in love with this demon.

“Deal,” you let out in a breath.

You didn’t want to leave, but you knew you should. You didn’t tell him, but last night you started to feel a pressure building in your chest. At first you thought it was anxiety, but it didn’t stop weighting you down to the point you could feel it making your body slow. You tried to play it cool, it was nothing, but the worry in his tone was getting to you. You didn’t know how the curse could affect you, and at this point you were pretty sure you were in danger if you stayed much longer.

You sat at the back of the store as he walked around, greeting customers and acting like he wasn’t keeping an eye on you the whole time. By mid afternoon, your body was almost lax, your strength just enough to maintain you in a sitting position. He stood behind your chair and before he could say anything you offered him an escape.

“Okay, let’s try this one,” you pointed at the runes on the book.

He nodded, his eyes unfocused as he looked down. “This is the last attempt. If it doesn’t work, you have to leave,” his voice left no room for argument, but you tried either way.

“But I’m fin…”

He cut you off. “No, you are not.” He took a deep breath, clearly trying to calm himself down, and continued: “Do you think I can’t feel your pain? I can smell it. I know you aren’t telling me everything, but I can feel it inside of me. I can feel how it’s weighting you down.” You stood speechless, not able to deny what he was saying. He sighed heavily. “After this you are leaving.”

You didn’t know what was best, but you tried either way. “But…”

“No buts. You’ll leave and return tomorrow.” His eyes were shining with that longing and pain you got to know over the days. A different kind of pain bloomed inside of you, mirroring his emotions as you thought about another day of him in the bookstore, trapped.

You stood up, planting your hands on his chest to feel him close. And then you let it out, the true concern that was eating you alive every second of the day. “But what if I can’t? What if one day outside of these walls I forget about it and never come back?” Your eyes were teary, and you had to blink fast to get the fog away.

He stared at you, eyes unblinking when he said: “Then so be it.”

“So be it?!” You tried not to sound too angry, but you failed. You were angry, you were infuriated. “You aren’t giving up on us. I won’t allow it.” You were desperate, your voice vehement as you stared at him. You wanted him to snap back, to argue, to deny your statement. But he said nothing, and you held back angry tears.

The muscles in his jaw ticked when he broke the silence: “Try the runes, little human.”

You were still angry, but you did as told. You grabbed the chalk and drew all kinds of runes around the door, it was supposed to create an empty magic space for him to pass. Your anger dissipated the second he tried to cross the door, and failed.

You saw the exact moment the barrier rose up and stopped him. It was like a physical force blocking his way and making everything around the front of the store feel electrified. He turned around with a tiny smile playing on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

He looked heartbroken if you knew what to look for, and lucky (or unlucky) of you… you did. You saw it every time you left. And it didn’t matter that you could cross at any time, that you would remember him as soon as he touched you… The fact that he didn’t exist for you outside those walls was a weight that he carried on his own, and that drove you insane.

You were in love with a demon, and you couldn’t remember him half the time. It wasn’t okay, it wasn’t fair… But there was still a ray of hope on the horizon. Maybe you two got what you needed, maybe the curse lifted and just presented itself in a different manner.

“I’m going to walk through that door and I’m going to remember you,” you voiced out loud. You tried to manifest it with all your heart, with your whole soul… but there was a burning doubt inside your chest.

“Sure.” He didn’t sound sure at all, you could see the spark of hope leaving his eyes as he stared into the empty space of the door.

You kissed him one last time, lingering a bit more than necessary. And then you stepped through the threshold…

A/N: Sorry? (Not sorry.)

Part 5 // Part 6

[madamechrissy]

I loved the toji x small boob reader so much!!! Is it possible for a gojo x small boob reader too??

Here you go, lovvve! Hope you enjoy <3

ᰔ How to get a raise ᰔ

CEO Gojo x smol boobie reader -Explicit-

"In my office, now." You hang up your phone nervously then, looking across to see your boss, Satoru Gojo leaned back in his office chair, his long legs crossed on his desk. You're his receptionist so you're right across his office, and you're an exemplary worker. Satoru is usually very kind, but something about his tone?

You tremble a bit as you stand, smoothing down your skirt. You notice your co workers looking at you, lingering at your chest, and you smile just a bit. You had a padded Victoria's Secret bra that added cups to your small breasts, and you were getting a little confidence boost at how you now fill your blouse out.

You sigh, standing straighter and heading into Gojo's office, opening the door to peer at the handsome white haired man, who leans his Gucci shades down a bit to peer down your body. You heat up when he looks at your chest, did he like the bra too, you wonder? You'd certainly had a crush on your boss as long as you've been here.

"Shut that door, Miss." You frown, doing as he says. "Shut the blinds, too."

"Sir?"

"You heard me." You push the buttons, encasing the office away from prying eyes now. He takes his Sunglasses off, revealing those swirling blue eyes that wreck you. "C'mere, sweets."

"Um... okay." You walk over nervously, then he crooks two long fingers, doing wicked things to your mind. Is this bra that good!? You step closer, then gasp as he has two hands on your breasts. "Sir!?"

"Thank god, I worried you got implants. Take this shit off now." He says with a glare, and you just blink as you look at him. "Now."

"Sir, I-"

"I don't like it. Every day I stare at these tiny, pert little tits, with your nipples hard." He unbuttons your blouse with deft hands, doing insane things to your psyche. "Now you hide them with this? Fuck that. Off."

"You look at me?" You ask softly, and he scoffs, opening your blouse and revealing the bra, taking it off with ease and then tossing it in his waste basket. "That was expensive!"

"They're even prettier than I thought, fuck." He whimpers damn near as you realize you're topless. You cover up your small little tits, but he yanks your hands down, grabbing your wrists, glaring, his white brows low over his eyes. "They're perfect. Y'know how often I jerk off thinking about sucking on these?"

Your tummy has this pressure that builds and builds, until you step even closer, hands on his now. "But they're so tiny..."

"Fuck I love that. You're perfect. Let me show you, yeah?" You nod nervously, and he sits you on his desk, bending down and his huge hands cover your breasts completley, earning his moan, and he slams his full lips on yours. You melt, pulling on his pretty blue silk tie as he brushes your nipples. "Fuck, lemme suck these pretty nipples?"

"Please, Sir." He pulls you by your waist, spreading your thighs and shoving up your skirt, then his silky white hair tickles you as he sucks a perky nipple into his mouth. Most of your entire little breast is in his mouth, hot and eager, as he slides a hand up your inner thigh. "Oh my god... Sir-"

"Satoru. Fuck you taste good." He moans, sucking the other tiny peak into his mouth, and your head falls back, as you're wetter and wetter between your thoughts.

"Satoru... F-fuck!" You whine out, earning his pretty blue eyes looking up as he leaves red marks on your tits, as saliva drips from that long tongue running circles on your aereolas.

"You promise to never wear that bra again, you get to cum. And a raise. Gotta let me burn it." You giggle, breathlessly.

"But everyone else looked-"

"Only I get to look now. Yeah, sweets?" He raises a thin brow, before he's got fingers under your skirt, and you cry out when he's slipped two long fingers in your entrance. "Promise."

"Only y-you can look at them, Satoru." He moans, then he's curling his fingers, hitting your spot and making you soak his fingers down to his fancy gold watch and cufflinks. He then pulls your hips, ripping off your panties, and they join your bra. "Hey!"

"No panties, no bra. Now let me taste you everywhere." He purrs those words, hands squeezing your breasts as he kisses up your thighs, and you decide, you'll never be insecure about tiny tits again, not with Satoru Gojo licking his way to your hot, eager cunt.

You don't even need the raise.

Hehe hope you enjoyed, don't you dare wear that bra again!!

[daeniradraconis]

The Starting Lineup - Auston Matthews

So this is just a little thing because I saw an Auston interview where he said he wants to be a coach for his future little girl’s team… and my mind immediately went there. 🥺 My hormones can’t handle it.

Big, tough Auston Matthews holding his tiny baby girl for the first time? Dreaming about coaching her future team? Being the softest, most loving dad?? Yeah. I had to write this! Enjoy the fluff.:)

—-

The hospital room was quiet, the soft hum of the machines the only sound besides the steady rhythm of your breath. You lay in the bed, exhausted yet filled with a warmth you’d never experienced before. And there, cradled gently in your husband’s arms, was the tiny miracle you’d both waited for—the beautiful little girl you’d been dreaming of.

Clara.

Auston sat in a chair beside your bed, his huge, strong frame looking almost comical as he held her in his arms. The contrast between him—a thick, powerful hockey player—and the tiny, delicate baby against his chest was striking. Clara looked so small, her little hands curled into fists, her face scrunched up in sleep, safe and warm against her daddy’s bare skin.

"She’s so tiny," Auston whispered, his voice full of awe. He looked down at her with so much tenderness it nearly took your breath away. "I can’t believe she’s ours."

Your heart swelled as you watched him, this man who had always been so strong, so confident, now completely captivated by the tiny person in his arms.

"You’re doing great," you said softly, reaching out to brush a strand of dark hair from his forehead. "She’s already got you wrapped around her little finger."

Auston let out a soft chuckle, but he didn’t even try to deny it. "Yeah… yeah, she does." His voice was thick with emotion.

Then, a new kind of determination sparked in his eyes. "You know," he started, still gazing down at Clara, "I think we need to start a Leafs girls' team."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? And let me guess—you’re going to be the coach?"

Auston smirked. "Damn right, I am. I’ll make sure Clara has a spot on the roster. We’ll start training as soon as she can walk. Maybe even sooner."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "You are so serious about this, aren’t you?"

Auston looked up at you then, his expression nothing but love and certainty. "Of course, I am. She’s a Matthews. She’s meant to be a Maple Leaf."

You grinned, leaning back against the pillows. "So let me get this straight. You’re going to create a whole Leafs girls' program just so Clara can play for Toronto someday?"

He nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Exactly. Think about it—Clara Matthews, future Leafs star. I’ll coach her when she’s little, get her skating, teach her everything I know. And then, when she makes it to the pros, I’ll be right there, front row, cheering her on."

You reached out and gently poked at his bicep. "You’re so dramatic."

Auston grinned, shifting Clara slightly so she could rest even closer against him. "Maybe. But I’m serious. I want to be the best dad for her. I want to be there for every moment, every milestone. And if she wants to play hockey, I’ll make sure she has every opportunity." He paused, his voice turning softer. "I just want her to have everything."

Your heart melted right then and there. This was the same Auston who poured everything he had into the game he loved—the same Auston who led his team, took every hit, and fought for every win. But here, holding Clara, he was softer than you had ever seen him.

"You already give her everything," you whispered, reaching for his free hand and squeezing it gently. "She doesn’t need to be a hockey player for that. She just needs you."

Auston’s gaze locked with yours, his expression filled with love so deep it made your breath hitch. "She has me," he promised, squeezing your hand back. "She has both of us. Always."

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. "Well, if she does end up playing hockey, she’s going to have the most intense coach ever."

Auston chuckled, looking back down at Clara, who had started making the tiniest sleepy noises. "That’s right. No skipping practice, no slacking. Gotta be tough out there, baby girl."

You rolled your eyes. "She’s literally a few hours old, Auston. Give her a break."

He grinned, pressing the softest kiss to Clara’s forehead. "Fine. But as soon as she can walk, we’re getting her on skates."

You sighed dramatically but couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling in your chest. "You’re impossible."

Auston looked up at you again, his expression turning serious. "No, I’m just really, really thankful." His voice was full of sincerity. "For you. For her. For this family we made."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you leaned over to kiss his temple. "I love you, Auston."

He smiled, his gaze full of love. "I love you more."

You sighed happily, watching as Auston cradled Clara against his chest, completely lost in the moment. His fingers traced gentle circles on her tiny back, his touch so soft it made your heart ache.

"You know…" Auston started, his voice quiet but laced with something mischievous. "I think she needs a little brother. Or maybe a sister. A whole little team, actually."

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide. "Excuse me? Matthews, I just gave birth hours ago, and you’re already planning a starting lineup?"

Auston grinned, completely unbothered. "I mean… yeah," he admitted shamelessly, brushing his fingers against Clara’s chubby cheek. "Imagine it—Clara leading the offense, little Auston Jr. holding down the blue line, maybe another one in net—"

"Auston!" you gasped, swatting at his arm. "Are you insane? I’m 31, Matty. I can’t just pop out a whole hockey roster. I’m old."

He laughed, shaking his head as he leaned down to press another kiss to Clara’s soft skin. "First of all, you’re not old. You’re just older. And second of all…" He looked up at you with a teasing smirk. "You’d make a perfect MILF."

You groaned, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. "You are terrible."

Auston chuckled, still staring at Clara like she held the entire world in her tiny hands. "I’m just saying… we make reallycute kids. It’d be a shame to stop at one."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the fond smile creeping onto your lips. "Let’s just get through this one first, Coach Matthews—then maybe we’ll revisit the topic next year."

Auston smirked. "Fine. But I am drafting for Team Matthews soon, just so you know."

You exhaled a tired but love-filled sigh, sinking back into the pillows. "Unbelievable."

Auston just grinned, holding Clara even closer. "Nah. Just really grateful."

And as much as you teased him, as much as you couldn’t help but laugh at his over-the-top ideas, the truth settled deep in your chest.

In that moment, watching your husband—this massive, strong hockey player—hold your daughter like she was the most fragile thing in the world, you realized something.

Auston Matthews might be known for his power on the ice, but the way he was with Clara? Soft, loving, completely in awe of this tiny human you’d made together.

It was the most perfect thing you'd ever seen, and you knew, no matter how many kids, no matter the chaos ahead, that this—right here—was everything you could ever need.

You leaned back into your pillows, your heart fuller than you thought possible. "You really are perfect, Matty," you whispered.

He glanced up at you, his eyes full of love, and for a moment, it was just the three of you. You, him, and your little girl.

And you couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest person alive.

[maruflix]

05: how much i like you ⎯⎯ prev | masterlist

you are a promising new member of the third division who, for some reason, is always given a hard time by your vice-captain. to vent your frustrations you decide to reply to a twitter fanbase’s anonymous confession, only to find out that your post was not so anonymous after all...?!

Soshiro couldn’t believe his eyes.

His trembling hands almost dropped the phone when he hears three sharp knocks on his bedroom door, followed by a voice he knows all too well.

“Vice Captain? Sorry to bother you..”

Your voice is muffled slightly as he scrambles to his door, heart thundering against his ribcage, the realization finally dawning upon him. You’re actually here to see him.

You. The person he spent months pining, daydreaming— it’s not fair, you invade all his dreams, you won’t even let him sleep in peace.

“Vice Captain, are you there? Huh, I guess he’s asleep..”

Soshiro immediately slams his bedroom door open, revealing you, standing in front of his door with a shocked expression. “Uh— ’m still awake. Hi, Y/N.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, blushing scarlet.

“So...” you start, glancing up to sneak a peek at him. “you weren’t kidding, huh? You really l-like me?”

Soshiro raises his head and shifts his weight on one leg. You make him feel so self-conscious. He wonders if he looks okay with just a shirt and his uniform pants on. His hair is already messy— why did you have to come at such an hour?

“If you want to hear me make a fool of myself, come inside. I’ll be glad to tell you just how much I like you.”

You blink furiously, cheeks warm at the invitation.

The answer is obvious: you step inside his room, greeted by the warm air of his heater. Stacks upon stacks upon stacks of books litter his desk, papers folded neatly. His uniform jacket is splayed over his chair.

Soshiro closes the door with a click and you’re suddenly aware of the fact that it’s just the two of you together in one small room.

“I’ve been... quite childish, I admit.” Soshiro is oblivious to your flustered state, “I apologize. I shouldn’t have been such an intolerable pain in the ass. Looking back, I guess it wasn’t the best way to get your attention in the way I intended...”

His apology seems so clumsy and yet so well thought out, like he’s practiced it several times. You can’t believe that the great Hoshina Soshiro is actually fidgeting nervously in front of you.

“I’ve already forgiven you.” Smiling, you bravely reach for his hand, giving them a gentle squeeze.

Soshiro’s eyes shot up to meet yours, gleaming in surprise.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t also have a tiny crush on you, because I do.” You ramble on, ”Okay, it’s actually a pretty huge crush. I have a huge crush on you.”

Soshiro couldn’t believe his ears. His hands tremble once more, squeezing yours with equal ferocity, rubbing circles on the base of your thumb. “You do?”

You giggle and nod. “Mhm.”

He pulls you into a hug, engulfing you in the scent of his cologne. He’s breathless when he buries his blushing face in your hair. “You do.”

Gently, his hands rest on your waist as he looks down at your smiling face.

You inch yourself higher, inviting him for a kiss.

And he kisses you on the lips, deeply, backing you to his bed to push you down. His hands are tangled up in your locks, bringing you closer to him. He tastes sweet, his tongue exploring every crevice of your mouth.

Your own hands make their way to his hair, tugging on them playfully. He groans, pulling away to give you a wolfish grin. Smiling, you peck his cheek. “So.. how much do you really like me? Because Narumi Gen told me you’re absolutely lovesick.”

Soshiro raised an eyebrow before biting your neck playfully, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. “Don’t say another guy’s name in my presence. As for how much I like you...” his hands wander further down, eyes twinkling up to you mischievously, “how about I show you?”

note: thank you for reading my first smau series! it’s been a good run, see you in the next one 🫡

taglist: @o-sachi, @iamjellyfish, @vashyuu, @yuudofu, @moon-cakiie, @17020 @nyxypoo @kichiyosh1 @lunavixia @ryescapades @er1kaaaaa @swivi @lumiambrose @equkki @kaoiyeva @tsubaki3192 @riceballsandanime @hibiscy @theauthorunicorn @4acoffee @sunarins @lxkeeeee @kimsangie @queencybow

←　wrong account　╱　hoshina soshiro

[velvrei]

I’m desperate for some Miguel fics 😭🩷

i know boo i got you here’s a cute flirty blind date blurb with him <3

…

you almost backed out twice. first, when your friend first pitched the idea of a blind date, claiming they had the perfect guy for you.

despite their words you walked in the venue with nerves twisting your stomach.

blind dates weren’t your thing. what if it was awkward? what if he was weird? what if he took one look at you and immediately regretted showing up?

but you were here now, sitting at a small table near the window, watching the door like your life depended on it. you were still contemplating some kind of escape plan when the door opened, and suddenly, every thought flew out of your head.

because he walked in.

tall, sexy, lean, a head of dark curls that he immediately ran a hand through as he scanned the room. his brown eyes were warm even from a distance, and his expression shifted from nervous to something softer when his gaze finally landed on you.

oh.

his lips parted slightly like he was surprised, but then, a smile—wide, genuine—lit up his face, and that was the moment you knew you weren’t walking out of here early.

he made his way over, careful but confident, his eyes never leaving yours. when he reached the table, he hesitated just a second before smiling again, this time a little more sheepish.

“hey,” he said, his voice smooth but a little breathless. “are you…?”

you nodded, smiling back despite your nerves. “yeah. you must be miguel.”

“yeah,” he confirmed, sliding into the chair across from you. he let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe something.

“wow. i—” he hesitated, then met your eyes again, something warm and sure settling into his gaze. “i think i owe your friend a huge thank you.”

your cheeks warmed, and you looked down for a second, pretending to fiddle with your napkin. you barely knew this guy, but somehow, it already felt easy.

before you could respond, the waiter came by to take your order. you opened your mouth to speak, but miguel beat you to it.

“you go first,” he said, nodding at you without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you ordered, then he did, and once the waiter walked away, conversation picked up instantly.

you learned that miguel had moved to the valley a few years ago, that he had a mom who he adored and a little baby sister who had him completely wrapped around her tiny fingers.

he told you about his love for karate—not in an over-the-top way, but in a way that made it clear how much it had changed his life.

and in return, he wanted to know everything about you.

“so, how’d your friend convince you to do this?” he asked, his elbow resting on the table, his hand propping up his chin as he looked at you like he actually cared about the answer.

you shrugged, smiling a little. “honestly? a lot of begging. i don’t usually do blind dates.”

“why not?”

“i don’t know,” you admitted.

“just feels risky, meeting someone you don’t know at all. what if they turn out to be super weird?”

miguel smirked, sitting back slightly. “oh, yeah, totally. imagine if you got stuck with some guy who just… stared at you the whole time, didn’t say a word.”

you laughed. “or worse, someone who just talks about himself the entire time.”

he grinned. “or someone who’s, like, way too into conspiracy theories.”

“or someone who chews really loud—”

“or someone who—wait.” he leaned in, lowering his voice like he was about to say something serious.

“do you believe in conspiracy theories? because i don’t wanna assume, but if you think the moon landing was faked, this might not work out.”

you rolled your eyes, laughing again, and miguel just looked at you—like he was completely hooked.

you were only halfway through your drinks when you realized the nervousness you’d felt earlier was completely gone.

everything about him—his energy, his voice, the way he listened—made you feel comfortable. wanted. seen.

at one point, you caught him staring, and when you raised an eyebrow, he just shrugged, lips tilting into a smirk.

“what?” you asked, pretending not to be flustered under his gaze.

“nothing,” he said, shaking his head slightly. “just… wasn’t expecting this.”

“expecting what?”

his smile softened. “to like you this much already.”

your heart did something stupid in your chest, but before you could respond, he leaned in just slightly, his fingers drumming lightly against the table.

“so,” he said, voice teasing but still warm, “should i go ahead and thank your friend now, or wait until after our second date?”

and just like that, you knew—this blind date wasn’t just a good idea. it was the best decision you’d made in a long time.

…

hope you enjoyed <33

cobra kai taglist: @karmaswitch @mamasfavourite @justchillin13 @timotheechalametswifeys @jeonkoowife @yoyouourmum @astreiz @adv3rc1ty @yslbaeee @amnesique @yaya-1loveart @izzyelise11 @larussoslostdaughter

[revelboo]

Will there be an update to Smokescreen's story? He's so good ♡♡

Sure!

Resolution pt 3

TFP Smokescreen x Reader

• Optics narrowing warily, he turns away to borrow the blanket draped on the little couch on the Medbay counter, listening for the sound of you bolting and he’s relieved when you stay put. Venting softly, he sets the blanket down and slides it your way with a servo. And you just stare at it before slowly reaching to take it like you think he might try to snatch it away. Watching you drape it around yourself, he has no idea what to do with you now. Reaching out his cupped hands like he’s seen the others do to let their humans climb up and be carried, you scoot away from him in answer, still sniffling and silently leaking. Not trusting him with yourself and he gets it. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says. “But we’re in hiding here, from your people and our enemies.”

• Huddling deeper into the blanket, you know he hadn’t actually hurt you and he could have easily. All he’d done was nearly give you a heart attack. And from nowhere you think of the time a mouse had gotten into your kitchen and your terrified attempts to pin it with a broom with no real plan beyond that, except that you hadn’t wanted to hurt it. Except to him, you’re the mouse. And at least he hadn’t smacked you repeatedly with a giant broom to get you to quit running. “What’s your name?”

• “Smokescreen. Yours?” Smiling as you answer, tiny fingers sticking out of the blanket where you’re clutching it to you. “Sorry about chasing you.” Embarrassed he rubs a palm against the back of his helm, door wings fidgeting. “I kind of panicked a bit.” Mostly because Arcee had just lectured him about not being seen or attracting attention. And she’s never going to let him live this down. Worse? Optimus is going to be disappointed with him and his door wings droop.

• That sense that he’s younger than the red and white one strengthens as you watch his body language. He’s alien, but his gestures, his expressions are shockingly human. It’s almost a little too uncanny. “I thought you were going to pull a Terminator on me, to be honest,” you mutter, relaxing some. “I mean this huge monster comes out of nowhere and charges right at me-” Trailing off when he grimaces, you wait and he rolls his hand.

• “Cybertronian. I’m not a sparkless thing,” he murmurs, smiling weakly to lessen the edge in his voice. Because you don’t know, how could you? “I’m a mech, a bot,” he adds, slightly embarrassed and you apologize, voice soft to make him feel even more awkward because you just look confused. Realizing how bad he is at explaining, he fidgets and again offers his hands. Optimus is better at this sort of thing and sooner or later he’s going to have to deal with that disappointed frown even if his spark constricts just thinking about it. Wants so bad to prove he’s not a fumbling youngling, that he belongs here. Might as well get it over with. Staring at his hands, his door wings droop slightly, but then you slowly stand trailing your blanket and climb into his hands. And you’re so small and warm as you settle in his palms, looking up at him. Trusting him not to drop you or hurt you and for a moment he can’t move. Isn’t sure he deserves to be entrusted with you or your trust as you lay a little hand on his servo to steady yourself.

Previous

Was talking with one of my coworkers about minis and blind boxes earlier this- and after work yesterday, she gifted me some of her kid’s Sylvanian Families kitchen stuff and said she’d look to see if there was more. Apparently her daughter has decided the little animal dolls have ‘freaky dead stares.’ Best guess is it’s 1/18 scale? Smaller than 1/12, but it’s slightly bigger than 1/24, but it’s super cute and detailed, and I can see it being about right for a mass displaced mech in a human space- still slightly too big for the space, everything including their human being small to them, so I’m happy. The chairs that came with the table have teeny, short legs that make them useless for Blokees so I raided my Rolife stuff

[ladymochimochi]

✦♡✦ Need To Know - Part Two ✦♡✦

Katakuri x Fem!Reader [AO3 Link] Part One Description: Katakuri's fantasies become reality. Tags: Clothed sex, Face sitting, oral sex (F!Receiving), Multiple orgasms, Dirty talk, Desk sex, Size difference (Reader is slightly sized up to better fit Kata), Come shot, Facial, Come swallowing, 18+ MDNI Words: 3.6k ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

It truly was getting to be too much. You could not get the sound of him saying your name that way out of your head. So desperate, so needy. It made your stomach flip and your blood run hot. Ever since that day, it was like you were stuck in a haze - floating through your daily routine around Katakuri’s estate, his moans on repeat inside your head. It had definitely spiced up your private time in your bed chambers at night as well. 

The only issue is that you would never bring this up to him. How were you supposed to go up to your huge and intimidating boss – who you also had a crush on - and casually tell him, “Hey, by the way, I was totally listening in on the other side of the door the other day. It was really hot. Should we...?”.  

Yeah. Not happening. 

So, you had kept your head down and worked diligently while trying to avoid bumping into Katakuri. But that could only last so long and you felt your face go pale when you were told it was your duty this week to clean up his office. 

Not only could you potentially see him in there, it was also the scene of where it all happened. How were you supposed to do your job and not want to die the whole time? 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Fortunately, luck had been on your side and when you had entered his office after knocking, it was evident Katakuri was out at the moment. You quickly got to work, wanting to get your chores done in here before he could return. His office was quite large but not much was in it. Just a large desk and chair and a chaise lounge with a low table, along with a rug, some decor and bookcases. The chaise lounge you always figured was just a part of the decor since there was no way Katakuri actually used it. 

Just as you were wrapping up, you heard the door open behind you and you froze. Of course, your luck could only last so long. You heard Katakuri say your name like he wasn’t expecting to see you and hearing your name from his lips again sent a shiver down your spine. Gathering your courage to face him long enough to get out of here, you quickly turned and grabbed your bucket of cleaning supplies. 

“I just finished, my lord,” you told him. “I’ll be out of here in a moment.” With a small bow, you attempted to leave but he shut the door behind him before you could even cross the room. Panic flooded your senses and you could only watch as he strode up to you. Certain bloodlines within you made it so you weren’t tiny next to him, but you still only came up to about his abdomen. You shyly looked up at him to see him looking down at you and his gaze made it feel like he was analyzing you.  

“M-My lord?” You stammered out, unsure of what to do.  

“I feel like I haven’t seen you around that much these past few days.” Katakuri told you and you felt a lump form in your throat. You swallowed it down and looked away from him. 

“Oh... W-Well, you know, I’ve been so busy cleaning all over the place. So... So many rooms, you know?” You rambled out, your face going the color of crimson. It was a stupid excuse but you couldn’t just tell him the truth outright. You had been avoiding him but you never expected him to notice. He was an important and busy man and you were just a maid that worked for him. It was clear from the other day that he was attracted to you but the fact that he noticed your absence from his presence made your heart flutter. 

His stare only continued and he made no reply to your excuse. It was evident he was not buying it at all and your odd behavior only piqued his interest even more. You began to fidget, hoping he would just let you go and die from shame in your bed chambers. His eyes drifted down to where you were white-knuckling your cleaning bucket and after a second, he visibly stiffened. 

“...You overheard, didn’t you?” His question was so quiet but you heard it all the same. A knot formed in your stomach and you felt tears prick at the back of your eyes. You could have tried to play dumb and say you didn’t know what he meant but you knew it was pointless and also cowardly. Words bubbled up your throat and you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking out. 

“I’m so sorry, my lord. I truly didn’t mean to but...” You started to confess but you trailed off, not knowing how to excuse your spying on him. Not able to face him anymore, you turned your back to him, still death gripping your bucket. You knew it was rude to do, especially to your boss but your heart just couldn’t take it. “It was wrong of me.” You whispered. 

“No.”  His reply stunned you. “It was wrong of me to do that and then put you in this position.” You turned slightly back to him and while you couldn’t see half of his face due to his signature scarf, you could see the tips of his ears were a dusty pink. The sight made your heart beat faster and it was something you wanted to burn into your brain. You turned away again, staring at his desk. This whole situation was awkward for the both of you but here you were and this needed to be taken care of.  

It was time to be honest. 

“It’s alright... I actually didn’t mind at all.” You said, your face burning hot. He stepped closer and you could feel the heat of his body right behind you. 

“Is that so?” He rumbled out, right by your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine and you finally dropped your bucket. Him being so close was making your head spin.  

“Yes. It was...” You trailed off, feeling too shy to say it aloud. But he wasn’t going to let you off like that. 

“Tell me.” He ordered as he stood back up to his full height and put his hands on your shoulders. You lost your breath at having him finally touch you. Your heart was beating so fast you felt like it may just burst from your chest. Was this really happening? Where was this even going? If it was going where you thought it was, you weren’t going to say no.  

“It was really hot. Hearing you say my name like that, knowing what you were doing on the other side of that door.” You whispered, your skin burning. He didn’t immediately reply and the silence was killing you. 

“What were you thinking about?” You breathlessly asked him and he gripped you tighter. You needed to know. What had been going through his head while he stroked himself to the thought of you? 

A beat of silence passed before he replied. 

“How about I show you?” 

You stared up at him over your shoulder with wide eyes and slowly nodded your head, your mouth now gone dry. With that he turned you around and lifted you up, hitching your legs around his waist. You let out a small, startled noise and clung to his broad shoulders. You didn’t expect him to move so quickly after how slow the two of you were going just a moment ago.  

He brought you over to the chaise lounge and sat down on the edge of it. You were now straddling him and could feel his arousal press into you. It was quite large and it made you swallow while wondering how you were going to take it – if this even went that far. 

His large hands moved to your waist to hold you in place and - to your surprise - he laid back onto the large rectangular cushion.  

“Wh-What are you doing?” You asked him startled. Katakuri was the man who never laid on his back and here he was now laying beneath you. Not that you minded really. Having this huge man now pinned under you made heat coil in your lower stomach. 

His eyes roamed over your body and his hands moved down your waist to your ass, pulling your short dress up to bunch around your hips. He then grabbed your ass roughly and you gasped.  

“I’m going to let you in on a secret.” He said as he kneaded your ass. His movement caused your hips to start rocking, grinding your core against his cock still confined to his pants and you panted lightly. “I do lay on my back from time to time. Especially when I’m about to have my hot maid ride my face.”  

His words stunned you to silence and you could only stare down at him wide eyed, mouth slightly agape. You were most definitely wet at this point and you could feel your pussy throb at how seductive he was being. 

“Now, I’m going to need these off.” He said as stopped kneading your ass and he snapped your panties against the skin of your hip. It jolted you out of your stupor. Biting your lip, you continued to grind yourself down on his arousal. You didn’t want to have to get off of him for even a second.  

“Rip them.” You told him like a soft command and his eyes widened, pupils dilating and he let out a growl as he promptly ripped both sides of your panties. You lifted your hips enough to get the ruined cloth out from under you and he tossed them across the room. 

“Close your eyes.” He rasped to you and while the sudden command left you confused, you did as he said. “Don’t open them until I tell you to.”  

“Yes, my lord.” You whispered in response, darkness the only thing you could now see. Not being able to see what he was going to do to you next added another level of heat to the situation and you could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest. Then you felt his strong hands on your hips and he was lifting you again. A small gasp left you as he brought you up and set you back again. You felt the soft fabric of his scarf on your thighs and you put two and two together that he had you hovering over his face. Knowing your bare pussy was right in front in his face made you feel so light headed, you were worried you may pass out. 

There was a small sound of fabric shifting and then you felt it. His large, hot tongue licked up your slit and you threw your head back as you let out a loud cry. One of your hands went backwards to brace yourself on his broad chest while the other fumbled to find his hair and you gripped it tightly, earning a grunt from the man below you. His fingers dug into your thighs and then he went to work on you like a man starved. 

You moaned loudly as his tongue lapped at your clit. It was an extreme pleasure you had never felt before and you gripped his hair tighter. Katakuri let out raspy groan in response and flicked his tongue faster. You cried out again and began to move your hips. As you rocked your hips in time with his licking, you could have sworn you felt...fangs? Your mind was in such of a sex haze though that it quickly left your thoughts.  

You could feel your orgasm building quickly and you quietly begged him for more. He started to switch between licking and sucking on your clit and it wasn’t long before your orgasm ripped through you. You let out a high-pitched moan and squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to snap them open. You rode out your orgasm on his face while he kept licking and sucking.  

Once you were able to catch your breath, you started to shift away from him. But he only gripped your thighs tighter. 

“I’m not done yet.” He growled beneath you and you were about to question him when his tongue plunged into your hole. You screamed out at the hot, wet intrusion. Your hand on his chest pressed down harder and you dug your nails into his flesh. You wished you could open your eyes and watch him go to town on you but you didn’t dare disobey him. His tongue repeatedly went in and out of you and you could nothing but moan, pinned down to his face.  

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.” You gasped over and over, another orgasm coming quickly. “It’s so good.” You groaned out, now having found your voice. Katakuri moaned in response and went even faster in and out of you. Your thighs began to shake and you pressed yourself down onto his face harder.  

“Yes, yes, yes!” You squealed out as you rode out your second orgasm. Once this one passed, you let out a harsh breath and doubled over, still keeping your eyes closed.  

You lifted yourself from his face and this time he let you. His own haggard breathing could be heard and it made your walls clench. It reminded you of him jerking off and you hoped you could hear more of his noises. 

With your eyes still shut, he lifted you again and put you back on his lap. His erection felt even harder than before and you bit your lip. There was shuffle of fabric again and you waited for his next order. 

“You can open your eyes now.” He told you and you slowly did so, getting adjusted to the lights again. You looked down at him and drank in the sight of him.  

His hair disheveled, large chest heaving, half covered face flushed red, eyes absolutely hungry. You could come again just looking at him. It must’ve shown on your face because he swiftly sat up, wrapped your legs around him and stood once more. This time he took you over to his desk and set you down on your feet. But your legs were still shaking and you had to grab him before you collapsed to the floor. 

“I got you.” He said as he held you up. “You doing okay?” He asked you gently and you nodded back. “We can stop if you need to.” He said but you shook your head. 

“No, I’m good to keep going. Please don’t stop.” You told him softly, looking up at him. His gaze over his scarf turned hungry again and then he turned you around, placing a hand on your back. His large hand on your back slowly pressed you down so that your front was pressed down against the top of his large desk. The hand still there gently rubbed your back as it slowly made its way down to your ass.  

He pushed your dress up so that you were exposed to him and he turned his hand to slip two fingers into your wet cunt. The sudden intrusion made you cry out as you rocked your hips back to ride his fingers. He large fingers dipped in and out of you at a brutal pace. It stretched you out good and you knew this was in prep for his large cock.  

After everything he had done to you, it wasn't long before you reached yet another orgasm. You were a stuttering mess of oh yes and please as your third orgasm ripped through you. Your breath was ragged as you rode your high. 

“Please...” You started to beg. “I need your cock, my l-lord.” You couldn’t even catch your breath but your body needed him and needed him now. You could feel yourself dripping wet and your thighs slick. 

He removed his fingers from you and you heard the clink of his belt coming undone. Your mind was fully hazy again with lust and all that was on your mind was his cock. You wiggled your ass at him, excited at the prospect of getting fucked. His hand came down and smacked against one of your cheeks causing you to cry out. 

“Stay still.” He ordered huskily and your eyes rolled back.  

“Yes... Yes, my lord.” You panted, the side of your face pressed against his desk. Then you felt the head of his cock as he notched it at your entrance. One of his hands gripped your hip as he slowly directed his cock into you.  

You moaned loudly at the stretch; he was much bigger than you ever expected but you were determined to take it all. His thumb rubbed circles onto your hip as he entered you inch by inch.  

“You’re doing so good.” He gently said to you and you clenched around him, whimpering in reply. Soon he was seated fully within you and you were breathing rapidly at being so full. Once you were fully used to the stretch, you gave him the go ahead to start moving.  

He started out slow, pumping into you with control. Your body was slowly giving into the pleasure, every thrust feeling better and better. You started to mewl and moan and he went faster, fingers digging into your hip. 

“You’re so big.” You said breathlessly. “It’s so fucking good, yes, fuck me.” You pleaded to him, starting to see stars across your vision. 

The hand that had been leading his cock into you slammed down onto his desk next to your head and you gasped. 

You felt his large frame press onto your back as he bent over to be on top of you and your walls clenched ever tighter around him. He started to drill into you and you could barely catch your breath. To be taken in such of a feral fashion made your eyes roll back into your head. 

“This... is what I was stroking my cock to the other day.” He seductively said down to you, his thrusts unrelenting. “You crying out for my cock while I fuck you like this, after I ate my fill of your sweet pussy.” 

His words alone were about to send you into another orgasm. You cried out again and dug your nails into the wood of his desk. At this point, words were beyond you and you were just a crying, mewling mess. The hand on your hip suddenly moved and he brought it between your body and his desk so he could play with your clit. You started to scream out, your legs shaking violently. It was too much, way too much. The feel of his fingers moving against your clit, the harsh thrusts of his huge cock inside you, the press of his body against you. 

Your vision blacked out for a second and yet another orgasm crashed into you at rapid speed. He picked up his pace, fucking you faster and faster through your orgasm. You were screaming so loud you were sure the whole estate – maybe even the whole island – could hear you but you didn’t care at all. Never in your life had you been fucked like this and you were going to enjoy every second of it. 

You were slowing your rapid breathing down when you realized you had been drooling on his desk. As you were going to lift your head, Katakuri grabbed your waist and brought you up himself so the two of you were standing against the desk.  

“There’s one more thing to this fantasy.” He rumbled out to you, slightly out of breath himself. You couldn’t fathom what else he had in store for you but you were willing to go along with anything at this point. “On your knees, mouth open, tongue out.” He ordered and slipped his cock out of you.  

His words made your whole body shiver and your pussy throb yet again. He stepped away from you and it didn’t take much effort for you to get onto the floor. Your body basically thanked you for doing so. You faced him on your knees and this was the first time you actually got to see his cock. 

Your brain short-circuited as you tried to process how the hell that had fit inside of you.  

What brought you out of your thoughts was his hand stroking his huge cock and you remembered he was waiting. Looking up at him, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue just like he told you to. He groaned and pumped his fist faster.  

This was really what he fantasized about? Holy shit.  

You placed your hands on the floor in-between your spread knees and hefted your chest up, cleavage on display and stuck your ass out, wanting to give him the best view. His face, still half hidden by his scarf, flushed at you doing this and his eyes had a look of desperation in them. His fist went faster and faster until he let out a guttural moan and his cum shot out onto you. 

You closed your eyes as most of it landed on your tongue but some ended up on your cheek and even the top of your breasts. Slowly opening your eyes, you made eye contact with him and then drew your tongue back into your mouth and visibly swallowed.  

“Fuck.”  

It was all Katakuri could mutter after seeing such a display. You tilted your head to the side while still looking up at him, smiling softly but with wicked look in your eye. 

“Was it everything you wanted, my lord?” 

[candycandy00]

As Heaven is Wide - A Doflamingo x Reader x Corazon Fanfic Part 3

In a world where Doflamingo and Rosinante were raised by Celestial Dragons after their parents died in an accident, they grow up to be notorious world nobles in their own right. And then they buy you at the Human Auction. Now trapped between two very different brothers, you’re shared like a toy. Maybe they’re not so different after all. Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Dubcon. Dead Dove Do Not Eat! Bondage. Master/Slave Dynamics. Violence. Manipulation. Squirting. Size Difference. Rough sex. Humiliation. Pain. Reader is described as little but only by ten feet tall men. This is a brutal, dark fanfic! You’ve been warned!

Any comments/feedback is greatly appreciated! Title comes from a song by Garbage (which really fits the mood of this fic I recommend it!). Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear!

When you get to Rosi’s room, he gently sits you on his bed. You’re still panting, trying to catch your breath after the ordeal you just went through. Rosi paces around a bit, then rushes out of the room so fast he trips and has to scramble to his feet in the hall. He returns with a glass of water and reaches it to you. 

The cool water feels good in your sore mouth and throat as it washes down the lingering taste of Doflamingo. By the time you’ve finished the glass, you’ve calmed down enough to speak. 

“Thanks, Rosi,” you tell him as he takes the empty glass and sits it on a small bedside table. His room is a bit messier than his brother’s, with some clothes strung about here and there and an empty plum jar sitting beside the water glass. Otherwise, it looks very similar to the other bedrooms you’ve seen in this manor. Huge bed, decadent furnishings, fluffy rugs.

He looks flustered as he shakes his head. “No, I didn’t do anything! I was too much of a coward to stop him sooner.”

“But you stopped him before he killed me. That’s something.”

Rosi lets a tiny smile creep over his face. “I won’t let you die here. I promise.”

You shift on the bed, suddenly remembering that you’re naked beneath Rosi’s black feathered coat. You pull it tighter around yourself. 

“Oh! Hold on, I’ll find something you can wear,” he says, going over to his closet and digging around. He pulls out a long sleeve button up shirt and hands it to you, then turns his back to you. 

It’s almost comical, since he’s seen you completely naked more than once now, but you appreciate the gesture. 

You pull on his shirt and button it all the way up. With his ridiculous height, his shirt is long enough on you to be a dress. It’s soft and warm and it smells like him. 

“I’m done,” you tell him, sitting back down on his bed. 

He turns to face you again, his face slightly pink when he looks at you. Is it because you’re wearing his clothes? 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he tells you, standing a few feet away from the bed, maintaining his distance. 

“What is your brother’s deal? I can’t believe he got that mad over a kiss! It’s not like he couldn’t have kissed me anytime he wanted.”

Rosi looks away awkwardly. “Doffy would never kiss a slave. He thinks they’re dirty.” Then his eyes shift back to you. “Oh, but I don’t think that at all!”

“It’s okay, I know you don’t,” you say. 

Rosi sighs and sits down in a chair near his closet, facing the bed. “I think it scares him, on some level, to see me bonding with someone else. I’m the only family he has, so I guess he doesn’t want to risk losing me.”

You mull his words over in your mind, then remember what Doffy said earlier. You hesitate, take a deep breath, then ask Rosi the question you know he doesn’t want to answer. 

“Is it true? What he said about the mermaid?”

His face freezes, then slowly twists as if he’s been stabbed. “He told a twisted version of it, but the basics are true.”

“What really happened?” you ask. 

Rosi pulls out a cigarette and lights it, taking a long drag before starting to talk. “Doffy bought her as a present for me, for my eighteenth birthday. I was young and horny and stupid and naive. So when she started being flirty, and then initiated things… I thought it was love.”

He pauses and pulls the cigarette from his mouth, letting it dangle between two fingers as he looks down, watching the smoke. “For the next few weeks, we were… intimate. A lot. It never even occurred to me that something was off about the whole situation. It was my first ‘relationship’, and maybe I just wanted it to all be true.”

After another pause, you prod him gently to continue. “So what happened?”

He looks at you, and he seems embarrassed as he goes on. “One day out of the blue she just started crying and eventually told me the truth. Doffy threatened her into pretending to be in love with me. I don’t know if he actually thought he was doing me a favor, or if it was all some sick game, but the fact was she never wanted any of it. I was horrified. Everything we did… everything I did to her…”

He trails off, putting one hand over his eyes. 

You stand up and walk over to him, lightly touching his shoulder. “None of that was your fault, Rosi. And she must have known that, she must have realized you genuinely cared about her. Otherwise, she would’ve been afraid to tell you the truth. Even in that situation, she felt like she could trust you.”

“That trust was misplaced,” Rosi says, “because I got her killed.”

You draw back slightly. “What?”

“I tried to free her. I thought it was the only way I could begin to make up for what she endured. I snuck her out, and paid a man with a small ship in Sabaody to escort her back to Fishman Island. I didn’t realize Doffy had servants watching us. He blew up the ship before it ever left port.”

“That’s awful!” you say, “But it still wasn’t your fault. You tried your best to help her.”

He finally gives you a weak smile. “I won’t make the same mistake again. This time, when I free you, I’m coming with you.”

You’d nearly forgotten about his promise to help you escape. After hearing his story about the mermaid, you’re even more uneasy about the whole thing. But you can’t stay here forever. Maybe… if Doffy wasn’t so cruel to you… but no. He’s going to end up killing you anyway. 

That night, Rosi insists you sleep in his bed while he takes the floor. He never touches you, probably assuming you were in no mood for such things after what you went through tonight. He would be right that you want nothing sexual right now, but you wouldn’t mind being held. 

Your mind flashes back to being in Doflamingo’s bed, to his arm draped over you, his massive, firm body behind you. Why do you suddenly miss that? Doffy almost killed you! 

These brothers are driving you mad. 

*******

You wondered if Doffy would skip a few days of calling for you, if he would have even the tiniest shred of shame for what he did to you, but he calls for you the very next day. Guess he’s shameless after all. 

When you walk into his office, you don’t bow. You simply stand there looking at him. He’s standing near his desk, and after a moment, he says, “Not going to kneel for me?”

You keep your eyes on his face. “You said we were past that… Doffy.”

There’s a pause where you think he might kill you on the spot. He’s deathly silent and expressionless for several seconds, then suddenly laughs. “You never fail to entertain me!”

You almost breathe a sigh of relief, but within seconds he’s crossed the room to you, tore your dress over your head, and dragged you to his desk to bend you over it. 

He takes you right there, roughly enough to convince you he was actually offended by what you said. His hand presses your body down against the smooth wooden surface, sliding up your spine to settle at the back of your neck. 

“Do you know why I removed your collar?” he asks, right in the middle of fucking you so hard the heavy desk is wobbling. Your splayed legs are dangling off the edges, not long enough to touch the floor. 

Your face is turned sideways, one side smushed against the wood, one side able to look back at him. “N-no,” you mutter, barely able to speak. 

His hand on your neck tightens. “Because I like this better,” he says. “I can feel your pulse, feel how fast your heart is beating, how terrified you are, and all I have to do is give a little squeeze and your tight little pussy clamps down on me!”

It’s already hard to breathe in this position, but when he grips your neck like this, you feel your airway constricting. Your body starts to panic, your heart racing, your body clenching. 

“There we go!” he says, thrusting all the way in each time. He keeps up the brutal rhythm until he cums, shooting every drop inside you. Then he releases your neck and pulls you up by your hair. This positions you on your knees on his desk, him behind you and his enormous cock still buried inside you. 

His free hand reaches around and slips between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it aggressively. Your legs begin to tremble, tears flooding your eyes. This is all too much! 

The white hot pleasure is building, making you cry out, making you go weak as you cum. You almost collapse back onto the desk, but Doffy’s arms wrap around you, holding you against him until your body stops shaking. 

Somehow, even though he’s a cruel monster, he always seems to provide exactly what your body needs. At least when he’s not actively hurting you. 

Two days later, after you’ve just finished sucking him off and pulling your dress back on, a servant quietly walks into Doffy’s office. It’s strange that he didn’t knock, even stranger that he doesn’t announce himself or make a sound. Doffy is facing his desk, reading some sort of document, his back to the servant. 

Then, to your shock, the servant holds up a gun and seemingly aims it straight at Doffy. Your eyes go wide as you look back and forth between them, wondering what you should do. The servant holds the gun steady, his finger starting to pull the trigger. 

Your body moves on its own. That’s the only explanation. You rush over, pushing Doflamingo out of the way while screaming, “Watch out!”

Huh? Should it be this easy to push a man of his size?

Both of you end up on the floor, you lying on top of him, your eyes squeezed shut while you wait for the sound of the gun firing. Only… it never comes. You carefully raise your head and look back, where the servant is standing with the gun held limply by his side. 

You hear Doflamingo laugh, and your panicked eyes shift to his face. 

“I thought you’d either let him shoot me or call out to warn me,” he says, grinning broadly, “but I never expected you to push me out of the way!”

Your face freezes when you realize this was all planned. “Were you… testing me?”

He laughs again, apparently very amused. “I thought it would be fun to see how you’d react. As always, you didn’t disappoint me.”

You stare at him, at his stupid smiling face, and feel the first tears start to drip from your eyes. You climb off him and get to your feet. “I was scared! For you!” you say fiercely, and he stops laughing, but the grin never fades. Your bottom lip quivers as you glare angrily. “You can play with my body all you like, but don’t play with my heart!”

With that, you storm out of the room, nearly knocking the servant over. It’s the first time you’ve ever left Doffy’s presence of your own will without being dismissed. 

You expect some kind of punishment for your outburst, and it comes, but not in a form you imagined. 

The next day Doffy has you brought to his bedroom, where he keeps you for hours. He spends the entire time making you cum over and over, his fingers overstimulating you until your mind is on the verge of going completely blank. 

“You don’t mind me playing with your body, right?” he asks, his hand between your shaky legs as he holds you in his lap. 

At night, as exhaustion wins out over discomfort, you start to drift off to sleep while wrapped in his arms. Just before you resign yourself to oblivion, it occurs to you that Doffy never got off even once tonight. How strange, that you were the only one receiving pleasure, even if it quickly became too much. 

Two nights later, you decide to go see Rosi. You haven’t seen him since you spent the night in his room, and you’ve figured out that Doffy only gets angry when it seems like you and Rosi are sneaking around while he’s away. 

You stand in the hallway and knock on Rosi’s door. At first, you hear nothing, and you wonder if he’s asleep. You decide to knock one more time, and that’s when you hear a series of thumps and bangs. The door flies open, and you’re hit with a cloud of cigarette smoke. You cough and wave your hand to disperse the smoke. 

“Oh, hey, come in,” you hear Rosi say. When the smoke has cleared enough, you look up at him. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of white pants that look like pajamas. Your eyes can’t help roaming over his pale, sculpted torso as he steps back to give you room to walk in. 

His room is a bit messier than you remember. There are at least ten full ashtrays sitting around, several empty bottles of various kinds of alcohol, and more clothes strewn about. 

“I haven’t seen you lately,” you say, sitting down on his bed while he takes the chair. “I was worried about you.”

“Sorry,” he says with an uneasy smile. “I’ve been keeping to myself the past few days.���

You look around the room. “I can tell. Does it bother you for me to come see you?”

“No, of course not! You can come anytime!” 

The two of you chat for a little while, avoiding the topics of Doflamingo or the plan to escape. Eventually you ask a question that’s been on your mind lately. 

“Rosi, how do you feel about me?”

He seems to tense up, his face turning pink. “I thought I already told you,” he says awkwardly. 

“Not exactly,” you tell him. “You said you were falling for me.”

His eyes meet yours. “I finished falling already. I’ve hit the bottom and there’s no climbing back up.”

You stand up and walk over to him. “So why do you barely touch me?” you ask, standing right beside his chair, your legs brushing his. 

“I just thought, with everything Doffy is doing to you, you wouldn’t want to be touched,” he says. 

You smile at him. “Usually you’d be right, but every now and then I’d like to be touched by the man I’ve fallen for.”

His eyes widen. “Do you want to be touched now?”

You step around to stand directly in front of him, between his long legs. You nod as he leans forward in his chair. He slips his hands under your dress, sliding them up your body, over your hips, your waist, and pausing to grope your breasts. 

He stands up then and picks you up. Your legs automatically wrap around his torso as he carries you back to the bed. While still holding you like a doll, he sit on the bed and shifts until his back is against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him and you in his lap. 

You kiss him while his hands continue to roam under your dress, your fingers raking through his soft blonde hair. You can feel his erection through his thin cotton pants, and you feel a sense of relief when he reaches down to free it. 

Looking down at his massive cock, it’s still a little intimidating even after being fucked by Doffy so many times. By your estimation they’re roughly the same size, so you should be able to handle it. 

Rising up on your knees, you position yourself just right and then sink down onto him. He groans at the feeling of your slick, tight pussy enveloping his shaft. You take him as far as you can without pain, and that’s when it occurs to you why he chose this position: so you could choose how deep he goes. 

Ahh, he really is a sweetheart. 

As you begin to ride him, you pull the front of your thin white dress up and hold the fabric with your teeth while your hands grip his thighs. You want to give him a good view of your pussy sliding up and down him, of your tits bouncing as you move. 

His hands start out on your waist, then move around to squeeze your ass before gliding up to your chest. He’s breathing hard, his eyes focusing on the spot where your bodies connect. 

“Can I touch it?” he asks in a breathy voice. 

You know what he’s asking. His gaze is fixed on your swollen, sensitive clit. “Yes… gently…” you breathe out. 

With one hand he reaches down, using his thumb to lightly rub the little bundle of nerves. You moan, sliding a little further down on him. His eyes flick from your pussy to your face, then back again, as if he wants to see the pleasure in your expression. 

His thumb moves quicker, applying a little more pressure. You moan again, your back arching. He watches, enraptured by the sight of you, his cock throbbing inside you. 

You cum, squiring all over his chest, clenching him before you let out a shuddering sigh. In your lustful haze, you sink down even further, until he’s fully sheathed inside you. 

Rosi leans forward, kissing your breasts, your neck, your face. “You feel so good,” he whispers into your ear. 

And then he tenses up, his muscles tightening under his skin as his cum shoots from his cock in great spurts, filling you to the brim. 

Later, you’re lying beside him in bed, his arm around you, when he drops a bomb. 

“Doffy is leaving again in three days. That’s when we’ll escape.”

You look up at him in surprise. You didn’t expect it to happen so soon. “Are you sure we can get away?”

“If Doffy‘s not here, yeah. The servants and guards can spy on me and report to him, but they can’t stop me from leaving. I’m still a Celestial Dragon. Even if they call him on the snail, we’ll be long gone before he can get back here.”

“Where will we go?” you ask.

He smiles. “Anywhere we want. We can live in a quiet little village on a small island, where they barely even know what Celestial Dragons are. Or we can go to a big city, blend in with the population, disappear into the crowd. We’ll go where Doffy can’t find us.”

You hesitate for a moment, then rest your head on his chest. You should be excited, thrilled, but something is gnawing at the back of your mind. 

“I feel a little bad for him,” you say in a quiet voice. “He’ll be all alone when you leave.”

Rosi doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then he sighs. “I know. But he brought this on himself. If we stay, he’ll end up killing you. He might end up killing me.”

You snuggle in against him. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I guess it’s naive of me to wish all three of us could be happy.”

Rosi doesn’t reply to that, only pulls you closer. 

Finally the planned day arrives. Doffy leaves on his ship as usual, and after watching him sail away, you feel a sense of sorrow. He’s a monster. You’re well aware of this. But somehow you feel sad that you didn’t get to say goodbye. 

That night, Rosi comes to get you and lead you outside. There’s a small boat waiting at the port, nestled between huge ships owned by various Celestial Dragon families. Rosi walks confidently to his boat, and is stopped by no one. A few guards simply nod as he walks by, and some men working on cleaning the docks or repairing ships all immediately bow when they notice him. 

The two of you climb into the little boat and he unties the rope securing it to the dock. You still feel nervous, even as you begin to sail away from the Holy Land.  

You sit beside Rosi, who smiles at you. “We’ll stop at a nearby island and buy a bigger boat,” he says. 

You nod, looking around and realizing the night is quite foggy. There’s something unsettling about it, something keeping you on edge. 

Not even an hour into your journey, a huge b ship emerges from the fog right in front of you. Immediately, you recognize it as Doffy’s ship. 

Beside you, Rosi curses and stands up in alarm. 

Up high, standing on the deck and looking down at you is Doflamingo, wearing a blood red suit. He’s grinning in that terrifying way as he says, “What’s this? Going for a little moonlight boat ride? You should have invited me!”

“Doffy,” Rosi begins, “just let us-“

“Shut the fuck up, Rosi.” 

Doffy said the words with such authority, such venom and such finality, that Rosi falls silent. 

Then Doffy’s face turns toward you. “As for our pretty little toy, you’ll wish I’d killed you that night in my room.”

You look back at him in horror, then to Rosi, who looks terrified. 

Doffy looks at someone behind him, probably his personal guards, and says, “Bring them to me. They’re both going to have a long night.”

[kusanagihaku]

under this orange sky

⭢ haru x mc, 2.6k

“It’s perfect,” Haru says. His voice is thick with something honey-warm, the same kind of whiskey that burns your own lungs when you think about the stretch of a future with him. His fingers find yours, find the ring tucked neatly on the fourth finger of your left hand. “It’s perfect.”  or: you try on wedding dresses with haru. on ao3 here / masterlist.

A twinkle sounds above your head as you slide the door closed behind you. 

The sight that greets you is stunning – under the quiet piano music and soft warmth of the overhead spotlights sparkle huge wedding dresses, hung neatly on gold racks suspended from the ceiling. They shimmer as though moving, a silent symphony of lace and silk and chiffon that whispers into the background of the bridal shop. 

You feel a little out of place; the air around the dresses alone smells more expensive than your entire wardrobe. You should have expected it, of course, seeing as to how Romeo was the one who booked you the appointment, but the luxury that swirls around your feet with every step is unfamiliar all the same. 

“Ma’am?” A well-dressed staff member appears at your elbow. He bows, a stiff ninety degrees, before looking at you enquiringly. 

“I, um,” you fumble to unlock your phone, “have an appointment at three?” 

The staff member peers at your appointment confirmation text before bowing again and retreating into the forest of wedding dresses. You wonder if he has ever gotten lost in them. 

You would, if left here alone – the white dresses hung up next to you tower well above your head. The ones closest to you are studded with pearls, an opulent showering that melts into creamy silk the closer it gets to the floor. The ones further down the rack are lined with tiny white beads; they swirl around the bodice of the dress as if around a snow-capped mountain, then trail off into a lace train that brushes the floor. 

They are all absolutely beautiful. 

You exhale. When Romeo said he would pay for your dress as a wedding gift, you never in your wildest dreams would have imagined dresses like these. 

(Only the best for Harry and you, Romeo sniffed, and everyone present had pretended it was in disdain and not at all related to the shine of happy tears in his eyes. I’ll call up an old friend– here–) 

Before you can think too much about the price tags, however, an old lady slightly shorter than yourself emerges from the snowy mountains. 

Her hair is as white as the clothes that surround her, and her glasses, delicately gold-framed, sparkle as she bows slightly in greeting. The smile she gives you when you return the formality is warm. 

“Welcome,” she says. Her voice is stronger than you expect. “Romeo has already sent over your measurements.” 

“Oh,” you say, faintly, and follow her into the gaping maw of white. 

You kind of wish Haru was with you. 

Even though he’d (wisely) keep his mouth shut about how the contents of half the store could fund the entirety of Jabberwock for a year, he’d reach for your hand still, a steady rock in this stream of unfamiliarity. He’d smile at you, all soft sun and spring, then turn to face your first wedding dress appointment with the same expression he uses to face all new experiences – with a confident tilt of chin and resolute squaring of shoulders. 

But alas, Haru is still hurtling his way over on the Galaxy Express, having been held back by some Darkwick administrator or another over issues with the Jabberwock caretaking, and so you have to face this on your own. 

She leads you to a small clearing in the middle of the store. There is a glass garden table set up with pillowy chairs, and you recognise the initials on the grey file sitting on its surface to be Haru’s and your own. 

The madame gestures for you to sit. She reaches into the grey file, but instead of pulling out a lookbook or a page of silhouettes like you expect, she removes a blank sheet of paper and sets it between you. 

“I find that it helps me to imagine what the wedding will be like,” she says, mildly, uncapping a blue fountain pen. “That way I can pick out exactly what you need, you know?” 

You nod. You don’t quite know. 

She peers kindly at you. “Where is the wedding going to be?” 

“A… a vineyard.” 

Or at least, that’s the closest word you can find to describe Rui’s backyard. He’d moved to a rural part of the country upon graduation, far enough away from other humans yet close enough to a Galaxy Express station for you to visit regularly. The garden he tends to now is thrice the size of what he used to care for in Obscuary, with an apothecary taking up a sizable amount of land next to it, and he keeps up his business of growing anomalous plants for medicinal or bar-related consumption. 

He volunteered a space off the side of his garden the moment Haru broke the news – what better place for a spring wedding? he had grinned, then laughed when Romeo complained about the possibility of getting mud all over his best leather shoes. 

“Ooh,” the madame trills, and notes a squiggle down. “Indoors or outdoors?” 

“Outdoors,” you say, and she looks up. 

“Have you checked the weather?” 

Your mind flashes to lilac hair and pink eyes and the biggest hug he gave you and Haru when he found out, and you laugh. “It’ll be clear.” 

The madame claps in delight. “Beautiful. Have you decided on the flower arrangements?” 

You haven’t, actually, but an image blooms almost instantly when you close your eyes. “Sunflowers.” 

She raises her eyebrows. 

Before you can elaborate, however, a chime echoes throughout the store. There is an instant, almost imperceptible change in the atmosphere, a voltaic thrum that smooths itself over your skin and settles into a familiar comfort. You barely have time to turn before he appears, all windswept and warmth, breathless at the crook of your elbow. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Haru murmurs. He smells like the sun, like the electric hum of earth, sweet and solid and yours, and you can’t help the unfurl of your smile at the kiss he presses into your hair as he slides into the seat next to you. 

“We just began,” the madame assures him. She eyes the way he scrapes his chair slightly closer to yours. “Now, how did you meet?” 

A smile bubbles up on Haru’s face, then. He takes your hand in his. “In school.” 

Days of Darkwick past flash through your mind, but here is what you see– 

Meadows of pink and rolling green. Skies of blue and black and grey and everything in between, and oceans twice as rich. Paths that wind through forests and fields, through hills and pastures, through sunset and sunrise and the beats of your heart. 

Through the beats of his heart, echoed with your head on his chest, on nights littered with stars and kisses. 

For someone who has spent the better part of your first year cursed there is little you recall beyond the soft-bright of Haru’s laugh. 

“He was the busiest captain alive,” you say, instead. “I was assigned to help his house once or twice.” 

“You were assigned to save my ass once or twice,” Haru corrects, then amends, “Ended up saving my life once or twice, too.” 

You elbow him, grinning; the returning beam he throws you sends a honey-thick swell through your heart. 

The madame notes something else down in an indecipherable squiggle. “And when did you realise you’d fallen in love?”

You blink. That’s not quite a question you were expecting– 

“Oh,” Haru laughs. “Almost instantly.” 

You flush, but the sparkle of Haru’s laugh settles into the air between you, nestles itself into the intertwine of your fingers. His thumb strokes the back of your hand. 

“There was this field we used to have to cross,” he says, “to get from the main campus to my dorm.” 

(You remember it. You could always see the red mushroom-top of Jabberwock from across the grass.)

“When you have a distance like that, y’know, the first thing you’d think of is how much you want to get across it as fast as you can. Just to save time. I used to, uh, run across the field just to get across faster.” Haru half-turns to face you, then, still sheepish at the memory. His smile is pillow-soft, fond, a quiet adoration that soaks into the clouds of his vowels. “But after we met… I found myself walking across it more often. I’d always be thinking of how nice it would be to slow down, to be able to walk and look at the wildflowers with her.” 

Oh, and the number of times you had – the number of times Haru had taken your hand in his, steady and sweet, pointed out the violets and golds and pinks and creams painting the backdrops of your evenings. The number of times he’d bumped his shoulder into yours, leaning in so close you could see where his eyelashes brushed his cheeks, where the humidity curled the ends of his hair against his forehead. The number of times he’d kissed you in the middle of that field, the number of times you’d pull away to catch the blush under his faint freckles bloom into a smile brighter than the sun. 

You’d fallen in love much slower, of course, as much as the circumstances had allowed, but you’ve long lost count of the number of times you’d decided, standing in that sea of gold-green and anchored only by his hand on your jaw, that no matter how fast Haru may run, you’d do anything to follow him. 

Your sun, your light. To love Haru, you think, is to be his personal sunflower. 

The madame does not wait for you to respond. She rises, silently, setting her pen down on the table before retreating into walls of white. 

Haru visibly relaxes into your side. His lips brush your temple as you lean into his warmth. “Romeo sure picked an expensive place, huh?” 

You snort. “Understatement. How was work?” 

Haru chortles. He flips your entwined hands over, so that the back of your hand rests on his thigh. “Same old. Had to show the new Jabberwock vice-captain how to feed the aquatics. Again.” 

You hum in sympathy. “It’s always a steep learning curve.” 

“Good thing I’m a patient teacher,” Haru muses, exasperated amusement colouring his voice. 

It reminds you so much of the time he tried to train the Capybus that you laugh, too, leaning up to press a kiss to his smile. His eyes crinkle up further, crow’s feet deepening when you break apart, but he doesn’t pull away. “Missed you.” 

“You saw me yesterday.” 

Haru presses his nose to yours. “I still missed you.” 

You can’t help the flutter of your heart; even after all this time, the sincerity behind Haru’s every word still slip-slides a giddiness under your skin. You squeeze his hand. “Good thing you’ll see me every night for the rest of your life.” 

The laugh that bubbles out of Haru is dizzy and golden and free, tender with adoration. “Lucky me.” 

He presses another quick kiss to your lips, before you are broken apart by a large bronze hanger being wheeled out from the forest of wedding dresses. On it is a dust-bag sleek in silver, hung neatly on its metal frame with only a bit of white floating out its bottom.

“This design has been sitting in my drafts for a while,” the madame says. She adjusts her glasses, and peers over them at you. “It’s been waiting for the right person, and well… after all I’ve heard… I think it might be you.” 

You share a glance with Haru before standing. For some reason you feel more nervous than you did coming in, like whatever she is offering you is more valuable than you could ever imagine. 

A staff member materialises from your left, and hefts the dustbag into a corner you failed to notice before. She unzips it on a small white podium she has set up in front of three angled mirrors. 

Another staff member materialises from your right, tugging almond curtains around where she gestures for you to stand. 

“You can undress here,” she whispers, before leaving you with the too-loud hammer of your heart. 

You barely see what the wedding dress puddled underneath your feet looks like before the madame, standing between you and the mirror, tugs it up for you, sliding the silk up and cinching it in the right places. The fabric feels like air on your skin, light and soft; as her hands work with pins and tiny safety clips you catch glimpses of tiny pearls and gold thread. 

But oh, when she steps away from the mirror, when they pull back the curtains, when you finally do see it– 

It’s beautiful. 

The lace covering the front of the dress is studded with white sequins and pearls, forming gently weaved branches of ginkgo leaves and five-petaled flowers. It winds its way from the sweetheart neckline to your torso and wraps around you to the back of the dress. Underneath the lace mesh is a glitter layer of chiffon, resting almost innocently over a nearly-cream silk; spilling down from your waistline are fine threads of gold. 

The effect is almost iridescent. It turns the artificial warmth of the store lights into diamonds glinting off the surface of a lake, into sunlight winking off drops of dew in the morning.

As you move everything sparkles. 

The strands catches the light as you shift – even though you first notice the ginkgo leaves and sequins, the bodice melts into a shimmer that is hard to pull your eyes away from. It glints a bright gold under the lights, gold like a kiss, gold like lips pressed to your temple to your cheek to your lips. Gold like solar flare through the fire-red of Haru’s hair, gold like the scent of sun in the crook of his neck. 

Gold like a dawn that breaks without either of you noticing, like a sunrise that steals over you when you’re asleep in Haru’s arms. Gold like a promise hummed into your hair, like a vow murmured wordless into the tips of your fingers. Gold like the inside of your ribcage at the end of Haru’s laugh. 

You hear a faint gasp from the madame, and a louder one from Haru. When your eyes meet his in the mirror you find him pressing his fist into his mouth, eyes wet with tears. 

His name is loaded on the tip of your tongue, and yet you are almost afraid to break the magic of the moment, of Haru’s eyes trained on you, tears sparkling on the thick of his eyelashes. You twist slightly to face him, hand slightly outstretched; he takes an involuntary step forward, and another, and another, hands reaching out for yours. 

As you turn you catch sight of the train of the gown. The lace at the edge of the train is different this time, a field of wildflowers embroidered with white beads that shimmer with movement. They wink at you when you turn; you blink, and suddenly you are back in the Jabberwock fields with Haru, bathed in the gold of sunset with grass and glittering wildflowers underfoot. There is wind in your hair and you are laughing at something or another, Haru’s loud cackle in your ear and mushroom-top of the dorm looming in the distance. His hand is in yours, warm and solid. Your heart is in his, sure and sweet, one step away from the frozen edge of forever. 

“My, my,” the madame is saying, “I knew it would be perfect–“ but then Haru is there, cradling your jaw, tipping his forehead onto yours.

“It’s perfect,” Haru says. His voice is thick with something honey-warm, the same kind of whiskey that burns your own lungs when you think about the stretch of a future with him. His fingers find yours, find the ring tucked neatly on the fourth finger of your left hand. “It’s perfect.” 

It is. 

[syndrossi]

So…the little Lynda Royce AU is really good. I was as upset as Daemon when he was looking around at their meager possessions. It made me think of…wait for it….Restoration! I feel like W!Jon definitely has more things than the twins, but compared to Rob, I’m sure his room is very plain and stark. What are the chances I might get a tiny ficlet where Daemon goes to talk to W!Jon (maybe about how he is never joining taking the black) and he gets sidetracked by how little he has. Please? Bonus, if Jon’s room is in the servants quarters and Daemon realizes that before he found the twins—W!Jon had generously given everything he had (which is not much by Daemon’s standards) to his brothers. So, please?

Daemon also has, shall we say, royal standards. So even Robb's room probably would look sparse to him. 😂 I do think that toys-wise, Jon likely had a pretty decent number. He and Robb would have almost certainly shared some, and although Robb's likely were nicer, I can't see Ned allowing a huge disparity.

The big differences, I suspect, would be in wardrobe and furniture. Good, quality furniture that meets the standards of the Warden of the North is time-consuming and costly to make. Many would be handed down through generations. So Jon's would be plainer, more modest, and just...fewer in general. Same with clothing.

Jon definitely would have tried to find his old toys for the twins, too, even if they're a lot less likely to appreciate them than most "nine"-year-olds.

Tiny ficlet because I do want to focus on Resonant in between job stuff.

x~x~x

"What," Daemon said slowly, "is this?"

Jon met his question with an expression of polite confusion that immediately evoked his younger counterpart. "What is what, Your Grace?"

His formality conjured unwelcome memories of all the times Daemon had called his brother such, whether out of pique or due to stern reminders of his place. "Daemon," he corrected him. "Or kepa, if you like."

"That is what your sons call you."

Daemon, per the tale that Ned Stark himself had constructed to explain his existence, would be the boy's grandfather at best, through marriage rather than blood.

"Did I not make my intentions plain earlier?" Daemon asked. "You are of House Targaryen, and you have protected my sons as surely as any brother." He swept the room once more with his gaze. "And this is no chamber for a prince."

"It was a chamber for three princes by your calculation," Jon said after a moment. "Will—Baelon and Aemon slept here, with me."

Daemon stared at the bed, aghast. It was not even half the width of a bed in Maegor's Holdfast. He could not imagine how the three of them had fit, even with his sons still growing.

The rest of the chamber was as sparse and modest as the bed. The table near the hearth was pock-marked and dented, its chair standing upon its last legs. The window had soot caked around the edges of the glass, both within and without. A small chest stood beside one wall, beside an equally small wardrobe.

The servants within the Red Keep are kept in finer accommodations, Daemon thought with a growing outrage. Ned Stark might have claimed Rhaegar's son as his own, but the boy had not been allowed to forget his place: below his Stark kin, forever lesser.

"You will stay with us, in the guest house," Daemon said, only for his words to be met with a small frown. "What is the matter?"

"This is my room," Jon said.

"No longer." Daemon grasped his shoulder and guided him to the door. "Your brothers await, let us go to them."

[karlachismylife]

Duty Free

#PriceGazWeek

Day two: Duty

Here comes the promised fluff! I also asked my comrades for additional prompts and they gave me: beach, sunscreen, bucket hat.

Sitting in an uncomfortable chair at the gate with his arms crossed and chin tucked to his chest, Price comes to the conclusion that civilian airports move agonizingly slow. Back at the base a helo in reliable Nik's hands would've already taken them high into the sky, eating the distance confidently - yet here the number of their flight is stubbornly staring at him from the big screen against the "Check-in" still glowing lazily and clearly in no rush to change to "Boarding". He bounces his knee impatiently, antsy and not used to having absolutely nothing to do - Kyle in the seat next to him chuckles softly and places his warm hand on the shapely thigh, calming it down like a wild animal with too much energy to burn.

"There's a smoking area down the hall, sir," he murmurs with an amused smile and nods at the long hallway guarded by vending machines with overpriced water. "Reckon you could use a walk, eh?"

John grumbles into his beard - most definitely cursing this airport and potentially a certain young Sergeant that convinced him in some mysterious way to spend their leave frying themselves under the seaside sun - and gets up, stretching his long legs and marching to the promised haven of condensed tobacco smoke.

He should think twice next time instead of allowing Garrick to weaponize his big beautiful eyes against him, decides Price.

John doesn't notice a Duty Free plastic bag tucked into Kyle's backpack as he returns right in time for them to board the big shiny plane with a friendly blunt nose - Gaz must've browsed through the store while his Captain was enjoying a cigar before the flight like some posh buisnessman in the segregated lounge.

The sea is beautiful.

Kyle has somehow scouted a secluded, wild beach not too far from the tiny family-owned hotel they stayed in, and they dragged their restless arses out there practically at dawn to ensure they get to enjoy some peace away from the noisy tourist crowds, relatively small in an unpopular vacation destination town, but still flooding the more "civil" beaches closer to the noon. And now it's just them and the rich blue sea shimmering with blindingly white reflections under the freshly risen sun. And it's beautiful.

Price, despite all his protests and indignations about the prospect of laying and doing absoltely nothing, is doing exactly that: propped onto a trusty backpack, he's resting on the ochre yellow sand quietly and watching the small playful waves bubbling in the surf zone. There are seagulls circling above the water in the clear skies, not too bothered by two humans out in their wilds amongst brown rocks with green seagrass clinging to them where the tide is slowly retreating; their cries mix with the grainy rustling of the waves and taste like salt on the lips.

Kyle is sitting facing the vast body of water that pours over the world's end slightly diagonally, so he can watch John relax too. His dark skin is shining with sweat under the bright rays and he keeps his head tilted with a lazy squint of the eyes to protect them from the light - the view is too hypnotic to tear his gaze away. Breeze draws rippling wave patterns in the dry sand, gathering tiny rock after tiny rock at Kyle's feet, toes digging into the soft warm surface and anchoring him as if a huge wave is about to crash into the shore and try and drag him into the open sea.

He's looking at John, his broad chest with dark curls of hair growing in a hundred different directions, just as unruly as the soft strands on his head; his finally almost fully relaxed shoulders, big hands with a trusty old watch on the wrist resting clasped together on the softness of his lower belly. It's obvious that Price is at least halfway asleep, lulled by the repetative song of the ocean and the weight of the heat.

Sweat soaks through Kyle's eyebrow and makes him wince a little, and it distracts him from the beautiful man laying on the sand enough to notice his skin prickling already under the sunbeams. Gaz gets up silently, leaving indents in the volatile soil, and digs up their bottle of the strongest sunscreen they could find. Rubbing the cool milky cream into his skin at least in the most exposed places, he lands himself into the sand next to John and brushes his fingers, now smelling of the nice, slightly sweet lotion, against his Captain's cheek to wake him up a bit before startling with more insistent touch.

"Sunscreen, sir," he explains quietly - this place makes him want to be no louder than the gentle breeze - when Price jolts and clears his throat. John blinks, covers his eyes with a big palm, his scrunched against the sun face a beautiful mosaic of expressive wrinkles, and sits up, allowing Kyle easy access to the pale skin with dots of freckles everywhere - like a shell that got stuck on a rock ledge next to their spot and faded in the sun, becoming white with soft peach leopard spots.

Gaz gets sucked into the process, running his hands over the bulk of muscles and fat and kneading out the knots Price brought with him to their vacation. He works out some grunts and hums from his Captain and gets him relaxed enough to slump forward and lose the everlasting boonie hat with a slightly stronger gust of wind.

Too melted under the sun and Garrick's skillful hands, Price doesn't reach for his hat immediately, not even opening his eyes, glued shut by the heat and the lazy caress, and barely finds enough restraint to muffle down a groan, when Kyle nuzzles into his dark hair and kisses behind his ear, tickling thin skin with his moustache.

"Got me wrapped around your finger," mutters John, unable to even pretend like he isn't fully content with the situation, and leans back as he's guided by Kyle's gentle hands. Gaz places a hat back onto his head and kisses him.

"You don't say," he purrs, slowly spreading the sunscreen down John's body, watching dark hair get stuck to it and prepare to turn gold in the sun.

The breeze sprays him with a few cold droplets, as if pretending to reprimand him for his mischief, but John Price stays oblivious, dozing off again in his fancy new frog bucket hat from the duty free store.