#.And you're telling me THIS IS FROM THE THEME SONG

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c9. Reign of Terror.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs.

song to listen to when reading this: Cool about it, boygenious

abstract: listen, I don't even want to hear it. yes, it's Simon. I told you already, I'm gathering intel during this part. don't think too hard about it, this doesn't mean anything. and yes, I think she was telling the truth. I follow my instincts and they only failed me once or twice…

When the routine settled back in, she felt like the Al-Jareena mission was a thing of the past. A week had gone by, she had no news about the mission. Or Arash. She was snapping her fingers following the rhythm of the music. 'And one, two, balancé!' She watched as the girls rehearsed in front of her, moving in pairs, one from each side of the room. They had been going on and on for an hour, the poor girls were exhausted. 'Okay, from here, piquè', she had been demonstrating everything, trying to remember her notes and the changes she had to make to the original choreography. Her blue leotard was sticking on her skin, she could feel sweat dripping down her back and in between her breasts. Her bun was starting to come untied, she kept fixing some shorter hair behind her ears. 'I don't want to see those stiff hands Jenny, please', she resumed, 'piquè, finish on your right leg. Sam and Gemma, you're going to go stage left with two saut de basque'. She stopped talking to demonstrate the jump, which was quite difficult, she had to admit. 'You finish on relevè, arms in fifth position, then repeat to the other side'. She was too old for all this activity, (Jude is delusional, she's 26). She had to catch her breath without letting the girls know she was getting tired. 'Then, Kyla, Cassie and Luna, same thing to the right as soon as the first two finish jumping, same thing to the left with group three.' She instructed and approached the mirrors in the front of the room. 'Let's see it, please'.

She packed her bag while the girls said bye to her. God, did she love being called 'Miss Alba'. She put on sweats, lifting them up over her legs without bothering to remove the pink tights she hated so much. She preferred black ones, they concealed stretch marks, cellulite… See, if the school was hers, she would let her ballerinas pick the colour they wanted. She could see during the lessons some of them were self conscious about their bodies, like she had been for years when she was younger. The way they looked at each other in the mirrors, like they were comparing themselves to the others. Some were thinner, some had bigger bums, bigger breasts, some had more muscle, some you could see their whole ribcage sticking out. School policy, black leotard and pink thighs. They were too young. But still, even Alba herself had some serious issues with her figure, demonstrating in front of everyone was challenging and took a tool on her mental health sometimes. She knew she was fit, don't get me wrong, she had worked fucking hard for years to get to where she was. Strong, lean quads, a good set of abs. She had followed every diet in the world, she learned so much about what foods not to eat, how to get the perfect body… How to be slim and toned and have fat in the right places. She gained back weight after the 'bad year' when she didn't work and decided she was not gonna feed herself anymore. Cooking was just too much back then, she spent hours going on walks with headphones in, on the verge of passing out. She was better now, she only had those thoughts every now and then. They were under control, she was healthy. Let me tell you, her legs, arms, her hips, a fucking work of art. Still, being watched by those young girls who probably spent way too much worrying about their weight and having to be the representation of perfection was daunting. Keep your abs thigh, your foot straight, your hips aligned. Hide how painful it is, hide the fact your calf is cramping and you're losing balance. A game of pretend.

When she got to work the next day, she was surprised to see a special someone waiting for her beside her door. No fucking way. She stopped in her tracks when he saw him, bag hanging from her shoulder, boots clicking on the floor. What are you doing here, how do you know this is my office? Did you ask around? Are you following me? She approached him and he took a step towards her. He had a blue jacket on, no skull mask today, simple black one. She could finally see his hair colour, dirty blonde. He needed a trim. 'Can I help you?' she said. Well well well. 'Not really' he replied, crossing his arms against his chest. He was tall, he was scarily tall. She had to tilt her head to look at him. That position made his arms look even bigger. She no problem admitting how good looking he was. 'Am I in trouble?' she asked tilting her head to the side. His mask moved slightly, but his eyes didn't exactly show a particular emotion. Was he smiling or about to punch her, she didn't know. She had always loved risks. 'You're not' he answered. He wasn't in the mood for jokes maybe. Noted.

She nodded and took a step towards the office door unlocking it and getting in, supposing he would follow. Being in there made her feel slightly more secure. It was a place where she normally had some authority. Not with him she didn't. He closed the door behind him as she put her bag on the desk. The office had two big windows which let in few shy rays of sunshine. She had a couch with a few pillows for the patients and a chair for her. She looked at him and indicated the couch, as to say 'sit'. He really didn't want to. He felt like a patient. He went to therapy before, he just didn't want to be her patient. He stood there in the middle of the room watching Jude take off her coat and hang it on the chair. She wore jeans today. Tight jeans and a jumper. He could see her boots clearer now, they were shiny and the tip of the shoe was round. They looked from the 80's. She had cream coloured socks. She looked younger dressed like that. She looked less professional and more… a civilian, a normal 23 year old girl. He had settled that was her age. Her hair loose, her casual outfit, she looked ready for a walk in the park. He wondered if she walked in the park with her dog. She looked like she had a normal job, like waitressing or maybe she was a painter or a student. She looked like she could go to the movies dressed like that, or play bowling. She looked like she was about to sit down, take her shoes off, get comfortable and tell him about her day, talk about nothing for hours without ever boring him.

She finally spoke, sitting down in her leather chair. 'Why are you here?' she asked, her hands on her thighs. 'You can sit if you want', she added. He still wouldn't move. 'I wanted to apologise for asking about last year, I realised it might be a sensitive topic'. His voice was low and soothing, his British accent heavy on every word. She didn't expect that. That was very considerate of him, the 6 foot soldier standing in the middle of her office like the representation of death that comes knocking at your door. What a strange thing to say man, did you hear stories? Did you hear your friends say I faked it? Cause I know they're saying it. 'Thanks', she said softly, a tone she had never used with him. She tried not to get triggered by his words, not to let her mind wonder back to the event he was referring to. She had to fight hard to not let her brain spiral, a fight against herself. She always seemed to lose. 'It's just something really bad, I don't like to think about it more than I already do', she explained. His eyes were fixated on her like she was a wild animal about to go extinct. He nodded and silence filled the room.

'How did the mission go?' She asked even if she already knew the answer. She was just making conversation. He didn't want to stay too much. He thought about seeing her, he thought about talking to her again and now that she was there, now that he purposely went to her office to talk, he wanted to run. 'Good. Good, yeah, thanks to you, actually'. He finally sat down. That was what patients saw then. The desk behind her, the windows and her, on the leather chair. He tried to imagine her during sessions. Her back straight, compassionate eyes, maybe a notebook on her lap. The window on her right illuminated only half of her face. Making her half an angel. She wasn't commenting on his answer, she squinted her eyes. 'Are you saying I was right and you were wrong?' she asked. Cheeky. She wasn't smiling, cause she knew she was right all along. 'I'm saying you got lucky.' She made him weak, his mouth was dry. 'So what are you gonna do next? I might get lucky again', she said. Could he tell her? She already knew so much. He decided he could share, vague answers only. 'We find where they took Khorram, we'll probably find Arash as well. We leave in a week.' She kept biting her lower lip, not in a provocative way. She was thinking. 'What did he do exactly? He's the one with that snake flag right?' she asked. She was informed. She had seen the flag she was referring to on the news and on social media. It was a green flag with a snake print, with red eyes. A symbol. 'The viper, yes. We've been following him for some time. Human trafficking, mainly.' Her expression was of disgust. 'He formed an army, he controls the main cities, he lets people starve, public executions…' he decided to stop there. She nodded, she got the gist. 'Makes sense…' she murmured. 'Reign of Terror kinda thing.' There was silence again between them.

'Reign…' he felt bad that he didn't know what she was talking about. He didn't have a degree. Jude had probably 4 or 5. But no, he wasn't that cultured. It made him feel small. Guns and war, he was the best. It was the second time he didn't know what she was talking about, she said something about a Little King or some shit. (It was the Little Price, the book). 'French Revolution, doesn't matter', she cut him off. Don't make me feel stupid Jude. He got up saying he better be going, she did too, she said 'of course'. She offered him her hand to shake. You're Italian, he decided. The hand gestures, the physical touch. Yes, to Simon shaking your hand twice was considered physical touch. She wasn't British, she was too polite and beautiful for it. How do you speak English so well then. What made you come here? What's your real name something Italian like Julia or Sarah? He reached for her hand, glad he was wearing gloves this time so he couldn't feel her skin. Less of her to think about. She looked at him, then looked down to their hands, still holding it. Her soft, caramel skin, with those dainty black nails against his skeleton printed gloves. She turned his hand so she could see the skeleton print and smiled, with her head tilted down. A smirk. She had dimples. Her eyelashes were almost touching her eyebrows. He let go of her hand and turned around, regretting he didn't wear his other mask. Would have hidden the fact that he was blushing.

notes: I was listening to 'cool about it' by boygenius when writing this. also, writing ballet is fucking hard… how do I describe the pain. also also, Jude's shoes are those chunky coquette Mary Jane shoes that you wear with socks.

notes: Julia and Sarah are not correct spellings of Italian names, more on the American side. makes sense Simon doesn't know how to spell the Italian versions. (they are Giulia and Sara). How are you guys doing, you all good? You guessed it I'm still taking my exams and working and being clinically insane and unbelievably tired.

love, mare.

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

[sillywoyscreenshots]

[the-busy-ghost]

Absolutely love it when history books have little quotes from legal documents or verses of old ballads at the beginning of each chapter

[stolligaseptember]

How can I kill myself to live - A playlist about your soulmate finding you at the end of your rope

hitchhikers on the open road, two lovers in an endless ocean // you're just like me, yeah we're meant to be // 'cause you can be the beauty and i could be the monster // priceless touch and i'll pay the cost, oh to get close to you // you're laughing like that, i really fucking love it when you bite back // give me a kiss like a kick in the teeth, my bloody lip never tasted so sweet // you can hold your own and i will hold it too // i wanna be the one that makes you stay // a big storm is brewing, but we'll be pursuing whatever keeps us alive // and i don't need saving but i can't do this on my own

[viosjaan]

actually yesterday na

[astraystayyh]

please fall before i fall

jeongin x reader. best friends to lovers. they think it's unrequited love so a bit of angst. but they're just idiots. happy ending :))

summary : 3 times you saved jeongin's ass and the 1 time he saved yours (and ended up confessing along the way). holidays themed.

winter falls masterlist.

a.n. : i am very happy to finally post my first fic for the winter falls collab with my author xi hehehehhe i hope you'll enjoy this one <333 it's very light and fluffy she's the cute one!! oh and my song rec is i bet on losing dogs by mitski

One. 

Jeongin’s thumb hovers over your contact name, his rosy lip pulled tightly between his teeth. He hesitates for a few seconds before finally dialing your number. 

“What do you want?” you start which makes an incredulous snort escape his lips, a gust of powdery air materializing before his mouth from the cold. 

“How much do I have to pay you for you to come over?” 

“Ten thousand dollars. Cash,” you precise as he mouths along to what you say, already guessing what your next words would be. 

He's come to know you at an abhorrent speed these past few months; since you sat right next to him in your biology class, head buried in an oversized navy hoodie. Your perfume knocked into him like a gentle breeze— Sicilian lemon and white bouquet notes, nostalgic summer amid an unforgiven autumn. Memories of sticky fingers from molten ice cream and feet soles meeting the warm sand wafted in the air, alluring him to the kindness of a long-gone summer, you. 

That is why he talked to you at first, because you smelled nice, incredibly so. He tells you it's because he liked the pair of shoes you were wearing. 

“What if I brought you your favorite coffee?”

“Are you outside my dorm?” you squeal and he imagines you must be scrambling to get up, opening the curtains. He knows he's right as your figure materializes behind the window. “Hi,” you wave, a small giggle escaping your lips. He can't help the fond smile that draws upon his lips. 

He thinks he likes you a little. 

“Hey, please help me wrap my family’s gifts,” he pouts, waving the coffee in the air. Your order that he memorized by heart, not even meaning to, it was just natural for him to order you coffee every day, to remember your preferences as if they were his own. 

“Why are you here if we're going to your dorm anyways?” you laugh, leaning against the window. 

“Because I know I need to bribe you,” he sighs, angling his head to the side. “Are you not going to hang up and come downstairs? The coffee will grow cold.”

“I’m coming!”

An hour later, four gifts are resting beside Jeongin's figure, perfectly wrapped thanks to your skilled hands. He's lying on the warmed tiles, and you're right beside him, so close your knee brushes against his thigh now and then. 

He is keeping count, well, more so his heart, constricting in his lungs each time you touch. 

He's so aware of you, so much he's sure you’ve crawled into his skin, morphing him into nothing but a shell of you. 

Perhaps he likes you a lot. 

“You're an insane man. Who leaves gift wrapping to the last minute?”

“You're best friends with said insane man.” 

“Remind me how did that happen again?” you ask, propping your head on your elbow, and turning to the side to look at him. Jeongin has to pretend that the sight of you hovering over him doesn't affect him. That his eyes aren't drawn to your lips, heart dissolving at your feet, hoping to brush against your own. 

Please fall before I fall, he nearly pleads.

“Why are you so close,” he feigns disgust, pushing your face away with his pointer finger. 

“What? Does that fluster you?” you question, amused, bringing your face even closer to his. He scrambles away before a blush sprouts on his face, one he wouldn't be able to justify to your scrutinizing gaze. 

“As if. You're ugly,” his eyes squint, lips thinning into that particular smile he knows annoys you. He moves to the side swiftly, anticipating the shoe you throw at him.

“You're literally— remind me to never help you again, asshole.”

“I'm kidding. Thank you for today, seriously. I didn't know wrapping gifts could be this hard.” He falls back to the floor dramatically, banging his head against the tiles in the process.

“Well deserved,” you whisper. 

“I heard that.”

“Good,” you giggle, before gently massaging the spot where he has bumped his head. He purses his lips against one another, afraid of what words might escape the confines of his throat, vocal cords moving to the gentle rhythm of your touch. 

“Will you keep on being this clumsy, Innie? mm?” you muse, tone quieter. 

The nickname makes his insides churn, it is always so tender when it falls from your lips. No one has ever called him this softly before. No one has ever called his heart before you. 

He shouldn't be this clumsy with it. It is a fragile organ, akin to glass, easily breakable, so translucent— it'd be easy for anyone to peer inside and find you in it. 

“Yeah, I probably will.”

He'll stop liking you next year. He hopes. He'll try. 

Two.

Next year has come, familiar frigid winds pulling you to Jeongin’s heart, perhaps even more so than before, cementing your being into the nooks and crannies of his soul, perfectly so, as if it was destined for you alone to fill the emptiness inside him. 

Seasons have changed and yet summer remains, its essence stored safely within the notes of your perfume, it tickles his nose as you're seated on the countertop, legs swinging lazily while he scouts through his fridge. 

“Remind me why we're doing this again?”

“Because I made a bet with Yoon.”

“Your sixteen years old brother?”

“Yes.”

“You are in college.”

“I know.”

“Why are you taking it to heart?” 

“Because I have my pride,” he says solemnly, hand on his heart and you roll your eyes. 

“You literally begged at my feet fifteen minutes ago to help you.”

A year later, Jeongin stood beneath your window once again, phone brought up to his ear, hand hidden behind his back. You pick up on the first ring. 

“Look out the window,” he quickly says before you can even speak. 

“Hello, Y/n, how are you, Y/n, are you surviving with the cold—” you say sarcastically as you pull the curtains, the words dissolving in your tongue as he brings a single flower before him— you recognize its pink petals easily, Camellia, the rose of winter.

“I did not have time for coffee, but I plucked this off the sidewalk,” he offers, an amused grin on his face. “Help me bake cookies, pretty please, I'll be forever indebted to you. Forever and ever and ever and ever—”

“This is such a poor rendition of Romeo and Juliet, I'm afraid Shakespeare is suffering in his grave right now.”

“Do you think he knows of every theater play that was done to his story?” Jeongin muses.

“That's a good question actually. I hope he didn't see mine,” you shudder before your face pales. 

“You did not tell me you ever did that!”

“I'll bake your cookies and you'll never bring this up again.”

“Deal. My Juliet,” he smirks and you throw a middle finger aggressively to his face before hanging up. He shouldn't find it as endearing as he does.

“Because, my dear Y/n, this is my holiday reputation at stake. I kind of raised the bar last year with my gift wrapping.”

“You did?” you raise an eyebrow promptly at his words and he sighs, taking out the butter before leaning against the fridge.

“We did. Which is exactly why I need your help again. Imagine how embarrassing it would be if Yoon wins,” he shudders and a giggle finally escapes your lips.

The kitchen warms up at the sight of your smile.

“It's cute when you need me once in a while,” you say nonchalantly, hopping off the counter and moving to wash your hands. Jeongin freezes in his place.

“I always need you though,” he confesses quickly, swallowing the words, hoping that this way you wouldn't be able to taste the sincerity coating them, sticky honey dripping from his tongue whenever it speaks of you.

“Good thing you'll always have me then,” you beam, your words hanging into the air, oxygen suddenly harder to inhale.

“Gross,” he fakes a shiver, as his heart drops in his chest, breaks, and twists at the weight your words carry.

He'll always have you, but not in the way he wants to, your eyes would never soften at the mere mention of his name, and you won't think that a season blooms into every room he is in. He has you, but just a fragment of you, not how you have him, as a whole, heart, body, and soul. 

He's already fallen, a terrible, terrible fall.

“Will you help me or just stare off into the distance?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. He smiles bashfully, rolling his sleeves and sidling by your side to mix in the eggs, one by one, per your instructions. 

It smells nice in the kitchen, the caramelized fragrance of browned butter, sweetened by the sugar dissolving into the warm liquid. Tentative sunlight streams through the window, and it falls perfectly on Jeongin's face, highlighting his sharp features. 

Not that jeongin needs any additional light, he reminds you of spring, a flower blooming on his face each time he smiles, his dimples two youthful fountains the roots strive from, brightening his face even more. 

He tentatively glances at you as he adds the chocolate chips to the mix, only to find you staring forward. He misses the fond look on your face by a few seconds, the tinting of your features with soft hues of pink, of spring, of him. He always misses it, always misses you. 

Three.

"I can't believe you have 37 pairs of shoes but not one nice shirt.”

“It's 36, please count correctly,” Jeongin retaliates and you snort, flopping around in bed till you land on your stomach, chin propped up by your hand. Jeongin is still rummaging through his closet, head almost disappearing into the dark void of his wardrobe. 

“What do you need this for anyway?” you question, as you scroll through your phone mindlessly. Jeongin’s eerie silence causes you to look up. 

“Um. I have a date tonight.”

“Oh.” 

His words hang over the room like a heavy cloak soaked with rain, the oxygen sucked out of your lungs and ensnared within that singular gasp.

Jeongin swiftly turns around, before kneeling beside the bed, eyes brimming with a hopeless search— you are too focused on steadying your breathing to notice.

“Should I go?”

“I mean… Why are you asking me?”

“If you don't want me to, I won't,” he speaks in an overflowing sincerity, as though he'd willingly surrender the reins of his life for you to guide, should you only dare to ask. 

A breath, a pause, and he adds, “In case you'll be lonely tonight.” Your hope deflates in an instant, akin to a birthday balloon tossed into the careless hands of children. 

Pity, that's what he feels for someone who hasn't had a date in a year while he went on ones regularly. Although they never transcended beyond that first meeting, always a first date, never a second. He says none of the people he meets are his type. 

“I have a date too.” It was the truth, Suhoo had told you to meet him at the ice rink. You said you'd think about it. You knew deep down that your answer would be no, solely because he isn't Jeongin.

Perhaps it is too late for him to fall for you.  

“Really?” 

“Yeah, with Suhoo, you know, the guy in our Economics class.”

“He's nice.”

“Mm.” 

Could you lose something you never had in the first place?

“You should wear Seungmin’s white shirt.” 

“Yeah. That's what I thought too.”

“And bring them flowers. The rose of winter, maybe.” 

You had preserved the plucked flower he gave you in a vase. The pink of the petals liquefying and bleeding into the blush on Jeongin’s cheeks once he noticed. 

“That one's just for you.” 

Four. 

You're alone on the ice rink, the frigid winds assail your form, fingers numb from winter's cruel grasp. Suhoo didn't come after all, perhaps he was offended by you calling him at the last minute to confirm your date.

The chill of disappointment is more biting than the frost— you want to melt off the ice, you want your spring. You want your Jeongin. 

But he isn't yours, perhaps he will never be. He is too sought after, too captivated by the fleeting chase of someone new to spare a glance at you. 

But in this instant, you need him. You need him to hold your hands in his larger, warmer ones and get you off the ice rink. You need the sight of his familiar dimples and blooming smile. 

So, you call him. He picks up on the first ring. 

“Are you that bored on your date?” He playfully taunts, and his voice becomes a gentle breeze that stirs the emotions you struggle to contain. Tears cascade down your cheeks in an achingly familiar path. 

“I-Innie,” you hiccup, and you’re instantly met with the sound of scraping chairs against the floor, the hastening cadence of footsteps hurrying out into the street. 

“Did he do something to you?” He speaks so coldly, a tone so foreign to the warmth of your Jeongin. He shouldn't be tainted with winter too. 

“He didn't come. Can you p-please pick me up?” 

“I will. I'm coming in a bit, okay?” 

He finds you rather quickly on the ice rink, a sore thumb unmoving between the gliding bodies. He skates over to you, almost falling twice in the process. 

“You're so clumsy,” you snort as he stands before you, sobs racking through your body once more at the sight of him.

You weren't mad at Suhoo. You were heartbroken over Jeongin.

“I'll beat him up for you. I'll tell Changbin to help me too,” he smiles, hands fidgeting as they land upon your cheeks, trying their best to wipe away your tears.

“Please don't cry. I hate seeing you cry, Y/n, I really can't bear it." The tears only fall harder at his words, as if he's stringing them forth with each touch of his.

“Did he do something to you?” an unknown voice startles you and you turn to your right to find a girl looking at you then at Jeongin, a frown etched on her eyebrows.

“No, I'm her friend I didn't-”

“I wasn't talking to you,” the girl cuts him off and you laugh despite you, as Jeongin’s jaw hangs open, before closing once more.

“It's not him, thank you so much though,” you smile gratefully and she nods, eyes wary as she glares at Jeongin one last time, before skating away.

“I can't believe that just happened,” He exhales, a breath tinged with bewilderment, before he delicately encircles a hand around your back. Gently, he guides your head to rest against the comforting refuge of his chest.

“What are you doing?” you mumble against his navy hoodie, the one he borrowed from you. You can still smell your perfume on him. 

“I'm comforting you.” 

“You don't like hugs.” 

“It's different when it comes to you.”

You close your eyes, allowing the tide of his warmth to envelop you like a cascade of spring petals.

“Where is your date?”

“I didn't go.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I love you. I'm tired of looking for you in other people,” he quickly says and you peel yourself away from him, feeling as if his clothes were suddenly made of fire. 

“What?” you whisper, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I love you,” he repeats, each word drawn out, much slower this time, his hands cradling your face, tenderly, as though holding the sun between his delicate fingers. “I'm tired of pretending you're not my summer.”

“Don't say things you don't mean,” your voice wavers. 

“I mean it. I've always loved you. You complete me in ways I didn't know were possible, and I know you only see me as a friend but-”

Your lips press against his, a culmination of aching desires that have lingered for two years. Distant laughter echoes in the background, ice cream melting onto your fingers, a soft breeze ruffling your hair, flowers blooming under the soft caress of the sun— two seasons melting sweetly into the kiss.

“You're literally so blind,” you giggle against his lips, and his smile widens, your noses brushing against one another. “I love you too, idiot.”

“You love me?”

“You're my favorite season.” 

“Don't steal my lines.”

“Hey—” he kisses you this time, the winter is long forgotten. 

Was it ever a fall if you caught him in the end?

[incorrectbatfam]

Jason is a hopeless romantic 100%

it just doesnt show

But everyone goes to him whn its time to plan dates

Dick: Hey, can I ask you something?

Jason, reading: No.

Dick: You see, Wally and I have our weekly date night coming up, but we've been to pretty much every place there is. You got any ideas for how to shake things up?

Jason: *scribbles coordinates and tosses him the Bat-plane keys*

[later]

Wally: Wow, I've never been to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

Dick: I'm glad you like it.

Dick: *texts Jason a thumbs up*

Jason: *read at 8:55 PM*

———————

Tim: Jason, glad you're here! I totally forgot it's me and Bernard's six-month anniversary. Help me out, man.

Jason, clipping his toenails: Fine. You better write this down 'cause I'm only saying it once.

Tim: *nods*

Jason: Go to Home Depot. You're gonna need some rope, a tarp, hammer and nails, a hatchet, matches, and fuel. After that...

Tim: *furiously takes notes*

[later]

Bernard: A camping trip was a great idea. It's nice to get away from it all. And I can't believe you set this all up yourself.

Tim, chuckling nervously: What's a boyfriend for if not to build a tent and chop down a tree?

———————

Duke: So the school dance is coming up.

Jason, working: Theme?

Duke: Under the sea.

Jason: Ugh, how cliché. Anyway, Armand's Tailoring has a blue suit that'll match whatever your girlfriend's wearing. Tell him I sent you. After that, call Patricia's Bistro and make a reservation with the code word "surreptitious." Alfred can take you in the limo if you give him a 24-hour heads-up to clean it. Once you're there, remind the DJ he owes me a favor to get your song requests bumped up. And remember, a slow dance is basically moving your feet in a square but otherwise go with the flow.

Duke: Sweet, thanks!

———————

Cass: Steph is sad.

Jason, cooking: *sighs*

Jason: *takes out a tub of ice cream*

Jason: *scoops a hole in the middle*

Jason: *fills it with candy*

Jason: Here.

Cass: Thanks!

———————

*phone rings*

Jason, waking up from a nap: What?

Kory: Sorry if I woke you. Barbara's coming over for breakfast in half an hour but I burned it with my powers. It was supposed to be eggs benedict.

Jason: Order takeout and put it on fancy plates.

Kory: You're a lifesaver—

Jason: *already hung up and went back to sleep*

———————

Kate: It's Renee's birthday tomorrow. I have a gift, but I'm not sure if it's good enough.

Jason, polishing his gun: If it's from you, it will be.

———————

Bruce: *walks in*

Bruce: Hey, son. Selina's not talking to me after our argument. How do I tell her how much she means to me?

Jason, reciting Shakespeare: I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, "I love you."

Bruce: You're right. I'm just gonna tell it to her straight. Thank you.

Bruce: *leaves*

Jason: *takes off his headphones and turns around*

Jason: Did someone say something?

———————

Damian: Todd, what is love supposed to feel like?

Jason: Why do you want to know?

Damian: None of your concern. Now tell me.

Jason: *shoots a training dummy*

Jason: It's when they're lodged in your head like a bullet. Except without the excruciating pain and messy red stuff.

Damian, nodding: Tell me more.

———————

Roy: *takes down a villain*

Jason, sitting on a roof: *wolf whistles*

Roy: The hell?

Jason: I know hot when I see it.

Roy: What are you doing here?

Jason: I brought Arrowdogs.

Roy: You hate Arrowdogs.

Jason: But you don't.

Roy: Aw, how sweet—EYES UP HERE, TODD!

[suguruplsr]

Pride and feelings aside…

Summary ✰ A mini story, in which, you happen to catch feelings for your fuck-buddy, Gojo Satoru, who just so happens to have a girlfriend you didn't know about until... however, someone's there to pick you up when you're falling. Geto Suguru.

,, gojo satoru x fem! reader x geto suguru , depictions of sexual/suggestive themes + scenes w/ alcohol usage , drug usage (not misused) , angst w/ no comfort.

wc: 3.1k

based on the song, 77 degrees, by Mariah the Scientist

+ full masterlist of “Seventy-seven degrees…”

tagging: @r0ckst4rjk @unmatchxd @chugao @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @fvsm4x @ivyshiyo @shadowfoxey @aliyalala @sexeyess @magalimachete @tokenblckgirl @melancholysanatomy @nekkobi @eumorele @polarbvnny @msmarklee1213 @mellow-mewow @qmsvpx @miauna @mwtsxri @ba-ks @slammynics

Dividers @/enchanthings

“satoru, fuck— right there!” honestly, there’s nothing like a late friday night, tipsy and high off a few edibles, and getting some good dick from your trusty friend, Gojo Satoru. as your hands travel along his broad shoulders, sheened with sweat under the moonlight, you realize why people fight to have this man. “yea sweetie? right here— ohhh look at you. f-fuckin’ squeezin’ me so tight.” his form that towered over you pulls away, looking down at you with a slimy grin and throwing your legs over his shoulders while you squirm. “sorry baby. you ain’t cummin’ yet. wanna play with this pussy for as long as i can, before i go~”

you don’t know when it started, you were always just friends with him. hanging out with him and the rest of your little group consisting of shoko, suguru, kento, and haibara. young adults who party over the weekends and work boring jobs during the week while considering their future. kento and shoko already chose to start college, while satoru and suguru are planning on doing something together. best friends stuff. sometimes you wonder if they really just like each other and wanna live happily ever after.

you and haibara just so happened to apply at the same famous cafe downtown. so you’ve been working as a waitress with him as a server for the past few months.

but back to your.. relationship? nah, more like situationship. well, you wish you could call it that, maybe you don’t. that reminds you too much of him. but, you and satoru are just fuck buddies who got drunk together one day five months ago. him coming over to your new house with four good bottles of soju, which were mainly for you considering he couldn’t hold his liquor. but of course, little words of how pretty you’ve always been in his eyes spewed out, and.. in the heat of the moment,, you ended up kissing him.

and that was that.

there’s nights where you can taste the soju that was on his lips that day, thinking of him as your hands trail down to the straps of your panties. but nowadays, you don’t have to play with your clit and contemplate calling the pinned contact in your messages. cringy enough, a little, “u up?” text is enough for satoru to eagerly drive to your house before you can even think of sliding a finger in.

you look up at satoru as he teases your pussy, tip pulling in and out as he emits tiny murmurs out of you. he’s so handsome like this, and any other day. cerulean eyes focused on the gap of your hole, tongue sticking out a bit and his chest muscles flexing every time he’s pushed in just a slight bit more than the tip. then as usual, he fills you up to the hilt, both of you whining as he steals away your breath with a sloppy kiss. telling you how well you’re doing for him.

you almost wish you could experience this every night.

“turn a bit f’me sweetheart~” satoru coos. he was on your couch, legs crossed with a sweet smile on his face. he had taken you out shopping, saying that a girl like you deserves to be spoiled. having daddy’s money must be nice. rather than letting him go into the dressing rooms with you, risking him sneaking in and possibly getting you two in trouble, you decided to make him let you shop on your own, and promised him a show later. and later was now.

you turned to give him a tiny twirl, showing off the pink frilly dress. you hear him make a sound of amazement, “it’s that pretty?” “no.. well— yeah, but fuck. it’s you.” satoru groans, gesturing for you to come closer. you giggle, taking your place on his lap as his hands immediately move along your exposed thighs. “mm, yeah?” you purr, bringing a hand to his throat and encasing your fingers around it while your thumb tilts his chin up to you. you love watching how he visibly folds, adjusting you in his lap with a bite of his lip.

“for sure hun. you make me wanna rip it off you, maybe even fuck you in it. so beautiful.” he hums, hand breaching the area of your heat. his fingers pull the strings of your matching lace, making you pinch his neck when he snaps it. you could feel your blood rush around your body, flustered from his pure awe. “this one feels new..” and you huff, cute eyes looking up at him with ridicule. “you can’t even see it!” but satoru only gives you that charming smile, glasses tilting with the move of his head. “but i will later, yea?” and you roll your eyes, not bothering to hide your smile as he kisses the corner of your mouth. “yea..”

you part with a kiss placed on his jaw, strutting away to try on the dozen other outfits you bought. all for him to see. you did purposely buy a few that you knew he’d like, like a few summer dresses. and of course, white lingerie underneath to top it off. you just love the attention he gives you, giving you the feeling as if you’re on top of the world. you wish you knew how to make it stay like that.

the night ended like always, your arms around his neck while he thrusted inside you with low murmurs and grunts that circled around the room. but you couldn’t help but notice his phone went off more than usual.

not any of your business though.

it’s nothing like going to a nice bar during a random hot summer night in late june, hanging out with your friends as a little catch up and drinking together. until everyone’s swallowing in their own thoughts and wandering about the place while you sit and watch.

“you two are close.” suguru hums, taking a sip of his beer while you watch satoru talk to another girl, all happy and comfortable, maybe an old ‘friend’, from the way she casually places a kiss below his jaw. your spot. you don’t know why the bubbling feeling in your chest wasn’t quelled with three cans of beer, but keeping your eyes on the white haired man and his interactions didn’t help in the slightest.

with a disappointing sigh, you turn to suguru, who gave you his signature smile, head tilted on his palm and giving you a look that would’ve made you shy away. in the past at least. “obvious?”

“for sure.”

“fuck.” you groan turning around on the barstool, facing the bar and stealing one of shoko’s shots, making her scoff with a, “what the hell?”. to which you smile sheepishly in return, the taste of vodka blooming on your lips while you’re already sliding your purse to her so she can fish out some money for her next drink.

“reminded me of us. you’re so damn selfish.”

suguru quips lowly, dark eyes studying the way your eyes narrow, glancing over to him before looking at the dark brown wood of the bar table. “yea? well i clearly haven’t lost that trait, messing with you two…” you shrug, making him chuckle. “i’d say you have a type, well.. if you weren’t going for someone as mediocre as satoru. no offense sweetheart, but don’t get your hopes up. especially when he’s attached to her.” suguru gives you a pat on the back, letting the warmth of his hand linger before walking away.

you don’t even care to ponder over his last sentence, you're sure it’ll come to you later in life. you just wish you had said something in return, wanting to prove that handsome idiot wrong. but the way satoru comes back to you with marks of that woman’s lipstick shining on his neck proves you wrong. you really shouldn’t get your hopes up, but perhaps you wish this was some romantic story where he’s just trying to make you jealous.

and not you falling down an empty rabbit hole.

“you clearly had fun.” you point out, gesturing to the fresh hickies laying along satoru’s neck. they weren’t yours, considering you haven’t seen him much lately. after maybe a week of texting and a few nudes, he had finally come over. talking about the restaurant he took his ‘friend’ to.

a look of.. guilt? takes over his expression, turning his head away on the other side of your pillow and humming. “yeah i guess.. nothing special though. not like you.” and you roll your eyes, smiling though, as you slap his bare chest, climbing on top of him and dragging your palm around his chest. “oh really? why should i believe that? if we were really special you’d..” you pause when you see his brows furrow, as if he’s expecting your next words.

touchy subject huh? you two must not be as close you thought you were.

but the look of disbelief in his eyes makes you throw it all away in your little wishing well. a well full of things satoru makes your heart wish for. you try to brush it off, giving a sigh and leaning down to kiss him. “you really think we’re special?”

“you’re definitely special.”

it takes all your might to bite down the feeling in your throat as he flips you over. your heart probably exaggerated all those gestures, those rare soft moments, everything, that made you feel like you were on top of the world. like you were his world. you feel sick, but you’ll take what you can get.

so you try to devour all of him, taking every touch with all you can. you don’t have the strength to remind yourself that, this, you two, aren’t anything special. he’s doing this for his benefit so why not do the same. even if your wants differentiate from his.

it doesn’t hurt to dream.

you focus on the feelings of satoru’s lips on yours, both of your hands trying to undo each other's clothing, but you can feel the vibrations of his phone in his back pocket. “toru~ put it up.” you whine, pushy him away slightly and giving a look when he tries to chase your lips. “fine.” he sighs, pulling out said object and quickly taking a look at the notifications as he heads to your dresser.

you aren’t oblivious, and you aren’t stupid. you can see the way he smiles, genuinely even, standing still to respond to what you think is a message.

it could be anyone, you remind yourself.

you make an exaggerated sound from your spot on your bed, making him put away the device, and looking over to you. a bothered look flashes over his eyes before he lifts his shirt up. “sorry to keep ya waiting sweets.” satoru grins, moving closer and placing a hand on your neck while you move closer to the pair of gray sweats in front of you.

“s’okay. jus’ wanna suck on y’r cock.” you sigh, emitting a laugh from him while you get to work pulling down the pants.

you couldn’t let him fuck you that night with how uncomfortable you felt. the look— no, glare. he gave you, even if it was only a split second, felt like you were intruding on something when it was the other way around. like a look of distaste.

when you told him you were too tired for anything extra, he placed a kiss on your cheek, immediately tidying himself up before heading out. the satoru you knew would never do that, unless he made sure you were feeling okay and begging to have a taste of you, maybe even staying the night.

fuck, you feel so dry you might just have to call him. for old times sake. you hate how troubled you are by your unrequited love.

satoru barely comes over now, and if he does, it’s for a quickie. which, of course, is the point of your “relationship”. but satoru had never made it feel like that's all it was. like there was a possibility for more than you two just digging in each other's pants.

but now, either he doesn’t respond or he’s busy. normal adult stuff, you get it. you shouldn’t be crying as you sip your glass of whine, sitting lonely at your dining table after satoru told you he’d be here.

something came up.

is what he told you. you even responded in that same minute, getting nothing in response while you wallow in your shame and disappointment. it shouldn’t hurt but it really fucking does. you wish you didn’t ruin the friendship. you wish so badly.

you’re probably just every other enjoyment in life for him, something he’ll use when he wants and throws away when he wants.

how fucked up of a situation could this be?

“i think we should stop seeing each other. if you know what i mean.” it’s 10 pm when satoru shows up at your door, unexpectedly and catching you off guard. it’s your second pity party after three weeks of no communication with him. three weeks since you had accepted you caught feelings for the daring heart throb of japan.

“oh yeah— totally. not like we really were.” you shrug, fighting back the feeling of bile in your throat. the expression on satoru’s face lets you know you hit the spot, making his nod awkwardly and wave. “i guess ill go now.”

you close the door shut, maybe slammed, grabbing your cold bottle of water on the table in your living room as you travel through your house to your bathroom. why did you have to see his face, why did you have to see the way he dressed up so nicely, probably coming back from a date with that ‘friend’.

you know.

you remember every single detail of his face, it wasn’t hard to notice the smudge of red lipstick on his lips.

you put the tablet flat on your tongue, swallowing it and taking a big gulp of water all in one go. the sick feeling throughout your body slowly dissipates as you stand over the sink, looking at the running water in trance.

what a fool you are, huh? falling for someone who was meant to only make you feel good. that’s just a recipe for disaster.

you don’t know how long you stayed in there, gripping your counter as tears slowly slipped down your face while you fell to your knees.

today was a hectic day, business was bustling and there were lots of people coming in the cafe for the fall themed items. like pumpkin spice latte, hot chocolate, pumpkin pie, etc. the aroma flowing through the place was even better, you’ll have to ask your boss what she may have sprayed before opening. but maybe it’s just the food.

however, seeing a few families or couples smile, the joyful mood flowing around as the hot summer slowly ended, groups of teens coming in to hang out before school starts back up. all of it felt nice. like a nice view of what your life could be if you weren’t some depressed woman who had nothing to show.

you sigh, grabbing your notepad and walking out from the back of the cafe. you just needed a tiny mental breather, too overstimulated with the many people. you never know how to explain it, like claustrophobia without literally experiencing it.

but you just leave it to your mind and senses just feeling overwhelmed. you’ll have time to take your daily pill later.

as you head to a ready table, your mind halts while your body strays to the table. the tufts of white hair, and blue eyes that locked onto you made the peace in your body waver. why was he here? maybe he came to check up on you? not like he doesn’t know where you work.

oh how wrong you are.

“how may i take your order?” your voice breaks, coughing a bit and playing it off as a minor issue when the woman in front of satoru gives you a look of concern, so sweet, and you feel like you recognize her. “hey y/n. i know you’re busy right now so i’ll introduce you to her later, im not sure if you two had met before, hehe. but we’ll have…” your smile is forced, the grip on your pen only getting stronger as you recognize the pet names he calls her, names he used to give you.

but with how casually he says them, maybe she was first.

the satoru you knew doesn’t even introduce or take out girls unless he’s dating them. which means this is clearly a new sight for you.

you don’t remember anything after they left, too caught up in your whirlwind of heartbreak and confusion to focus on anything other than getting through your shift. which led to you now, crying in your car right after work. you just needed to let it out.

better than crying on your way home and risking an accident.

satoru seemed happy with her, he really did. a tension between them that you never had with him. the woman was even sweet enough to tip you big simply for being her boyfriend’s friend. you don’t have the courage to dislike her, not when you were shamelessly looking over at her boyfriend with eyes full of want and desperation.

but of course he didn’t notice.

if only you didn’t fuck up the friendship, maybe you were just in a different light to him, compared to her. maybe you would’ve had the chance to showcase all of you to him, rather than the rough intimacy within the confines of your bedroom. fuck, you’re stupid.

how the hell are you supposed to show you love someone when you two are just having sex to cure your sexual needs. that’s like begging for a disaster to happen.

hearing a knock on the passenger side of your tinted window, you quickly shuffle to put the yellow bottle of pills in your armrest box. you take a look at yourself in the mirror, taking note of your puffy red eyes.

you hope it’s some stranger who doesn’t care about your wellbeing.

wiping your face, you roll down the window, greeted with the sight of a nihilistic smile and dark gold eyes that scan your form with a scoff. “unlock the door princess. not gonna let you get all sappy over some pretty boy who's missin’ out on someone like you.”

[whateveriwant]

Idk if you're taking requests, but here I am. Maybe TF 141 with an S/O who has ADHD and when going places, like a mall, for example they'll just completely walk away and they'll just loose their S/O

I took 'reader who is always walking away' and ran with it… ba dum tss (sorry, I had to). Anyway, I hope this is sorta what you were looking for! I was in a Christmas-y mood so all of these are winter/holiday themed!

Price

The park is especially busy for a Friday afternoon. There's children playing in the snow, daring youths having a go on the frozen lake, and families everywhere making memories to last a lifetime.

You've only been sitting on this bench for roughly a quarter of an hour before Price starts to squirm beside you, something clearly making him uncomfortable. Before you can even ask what it is, he's standing from the seat in one brisk motion.

“Be back in a moment, darling,” he grumbles. “The cold makes me need to piss like a stallion.”

As he takes off to find a place to relieve himself, all you can do is laugh and call after him to, “Wash your hands!”

Five minutes and one desecrated tree later, he emerges from the secluded thicket of bushes he found, zipping up his fly discreetly. He makes his way back to the bench you'd been seated at, a bit of a spring to his step… only to deflate once he discovers you’ve disappeared into thin air.

He sighs out loud – a long, drawn-out sound. He could say he's surprised but then he'd be lying. He knows you and your tendency to wander off; this is nothing new to him. Now it's just a matter of finding you again… for the third time this week, he remarks internally.

He would try calling you but he already knows you forgot your phone at home. He's got to get better about reminding you to take it with you whenever you leave the house, especially if he's constantly having to chase after you like you're some sort of loose gerbil.

Thankfully, he sees a set of footprints which he believes to be yours leading away from the bench. So, with no better clues to guide him, he decides to follow after the tracks, hoping they'll lead him right to you.

It's not long into it that he hears a sound in the distance, sort of a low, pleasant humming that grows stronger the closer he gets. It's only a minute or two later when – eureka! – he finds you standing with a small crowd who've gathered to listen to a group of carolers.

Ahh, of course. He should've known. You just can't resist a good live performance. Like a siren calling to you in a storm, one way or another, you'll always find your way to them.

Price easily sidles up next to you, flashing a smile when you briefly turn to take notice of him. His hand finds the small of your back as he joins you in listening, enjoying the festive songs performed by the carolers.

You're standing for a while, attention fully drawn to the singers ahead, when at some point you lean into Price’s ear, your voice lowered to a whisper.

“You washed your hands?” Your question is earnest, if not a little playful.

In response, and with a tone most firm, he declares simply, “...Yep.” Though, the way his hand slips from your back and into his coat pocket reeks of something awfully similar to guilt.

Ghost

You're on your 15th row when you spot it. There, standing not quite two and a half meters tall, perfectly green and dense and conical: your Christmas tree for the year.

An excited squeal leaves your lips and you swiftly run up to the tree to admire its beauty. “This is it! This is the one! Oh, isn't it just perfect?” you say reverently.

“Hold on a minute, love,” Ghost tries to rein you in as he lags a bit further behind. “Isn't that wha' you said about the one a few rows back? Wha' about that one?”

Oh yeah! You forgot all about that tree!

Well, now that he's reminded you, you want to do a little comparison. You tell him to stay put and guard this one while you quickly run back to check out that other one.

Two, five, nearly ten minutes pass and you haven't returned, much to Ghost’s chagrin. He thinks his bollocks must’ve shrunk three sizes by now from how long he's been standing out in this freezing cold.

After a dozen or so minutes, he tries ringing you, just to make sure everything’s alright. When there's no answer on the other end, he tries again, but is met with the same silence that has a streak of alarm bolting up his spine.

Ghost has always been a worrywart when it comes to his loved ones, and that concern only amplifies when it comes to large crowds and even larger spaces.

What's taking so long? Where have you gone? Are you lost? Hurt? Something worse? His mind begins to spiral.

Fuck it, he decides, and abandons the tree in order to seek you out. As he searches, row after row yields nothing but strangers and snow-capped firs. By now he's starting to fully panic, running around like a maniac, drawing the eyes of everyone in the lot as he yells out your name.

When he finally runs into you again – literally runs into you – he's out of breath, his heart pounding, and he grabs your shoulders with his strong hands and nearly shakes you out of your knitted cap.

“Don't scare me like that!” he's more exasperated than angry, and he pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. “Thought somethin’ might've happened to you,” he confesses, holding you to his chest like he thinks you'll evaporate if he lets go.

“M’sorry,” you mumble into the wall of hard muscle. “Got distracted.” The excuse is as weak as your skeleton feels beneath his embrace.

Distracted? What could have possibly distracted you enough that you didn't hear him screaming your name?

You pull back just enough to look at him, a sad curl to your lip that he can tell is forced. “I saw the cutest French bulldog,” you say, and Ghost has the audacity to scoff. “No, really! He was wearing the most adorable little Christmas jumper, and his name was Bark-tholomew. Bark-tholomew!” you stress.

Now that he knows you're safe and sound, Ghost loosens his hold on you, closing his eyes as he feels his pulse begin to slow.

“I asked the owners for a picture. Do you wanna see him?” you add hopefully.

When Ghost opens his eyes again, he's met with that sweet look on your face – that one he's unable to resist. He holds his breath for a beat or two, before letting out a deep, resonating sigh. “...Yeah, alright. Let's see it.”

Soap

It's unsurprising to find the mall jam-packed the week before Christmas, but that doesn't mean Soap isn't still annoyed by the swarm of bodies. But that's what he gets for waiting so long to go holiday shopping. Curse those last-minute deals and his inability to pass them up!

However, rather than wandering aimlessly through the mall, Soap has a game plan for today's spree. He knows exactly what stores he wants to hit, in the order he wants to hit them. And with you following closely behind to help, he's sure it'll be no sweat.

The first shop is easy enough to navigate with you trailing after him – providing your input when he inquires, and holding his items for him once he picks the one he wants. The second shop is much the same and the third even easier.

It's on the way to the fourth where, too caught up in his lists, Soap doesn't notice as you divert from the path, something else much more appealing stealing your attention away. It isn't until he's trying to decide between the last remaining pairs of snowmen or gingerbread men socks that he turns to ask your opinion, only to find you nowhere in sight.

He peers around the store for a second, not spotting you anywhere, before he suddenly feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. Your picture flashes across his screen and when he answers, the first question out of your mouth is, “Where are you?”

Where is he? Where are you? You were supposed to be following him, he not-so-subtly reminds you.

“I'm by the Cinnabon,” you tell him, then make a sound like you're taking a sip of something. “They've got hot chocolate. Giving out free cups of it,” you say, and that has Soap's ears instantly perking up.

Oh. So that's what had you scurrying off in his time of need. Honestly though, he can't say he'd have done any differently if he had caught scent of it like you did.

His movements falter for a beat, slowly lowering both pairs of socks in his hands. “Get me a cup, will ya?”

“Sorry. Can't.”

‘Can't’?! Well, why not?

You inform him that they're only giving out one per person and they seem to be running a pretty tight ship, so it's not like you could sneak another under the radar. And that makes sense, he supposes. They want everyone to have a chance to enjoy some.

“But that's why I called,” you continue. “It looks like they're almost out. So if you want one, you gotta come quick.”

The sudden deadline has Soap's eyes darting down to the themed socks in his hands. If he leaves now, they'll no doubt be snatched up by someone else. But the prospect of a cup of hot chocolate is equally as tempting, if not more so.

After debating with himself for about half a second, he asks, “…Where’d ye say ye were again?” as he places the hangers back on their racks. “By the Cinnabon. Right.” He makes his way to the front of the store, moving as quickly as possible. “Wait there,” he tells you, and once he's out the door, he's running full speed, his shopping bags swinging violently in his hands. “I'm comin’!”

Gaz

The night before Christmas seemed as good a night as any to take a walk around the neighborhood. So once you and Gaz had bundled up all nice and warm, you went for a stroll around the block, heading wherever your feet decided to take you.

Over an hour later, you're both just enjoying the evening – giving cheerful greetings to passing neighbors, turning down unexplored streets as you try to soak in this gorgeous night.

It's as you come up to another fork in the road that Gaz suddenly realizes one of his shoes is untied. He stoops to tie the laces, eyes cast down in his concentration, and as he does, you continue walking ahead, completely unaware that you're leaving him behind.

By the time he's finished and stands up again, you've vanished into the middle of this unfamiliar neighborhood.

Damn it. There you've gone and done it again. He knew he should have invested in one of the backpack leash things you see parents try to wrangle their wayward kids in.

You’d both left your phones at home in order to try to fully immerse yourself in this experience, so now he's forced to go old school when it comes to finding you.

He knows you couldn't have gotten very far; it's only a matter of if you went one way or the other. He picks a direction at random and after walking for a moment, he comes across a passerby whom he asks if they've seen someone matching your description. When they say they haven't, he then doubles back, repeating the process in the opposite direction.

Before long, thankfully, Gaz thinks he spots you stopped in front of a house not too far in the distance. He jogs up to where you're standing, and when he comes within earshot, he jokes, “Need to get you a bell or something, hun.”

Though the joke was lame at best, you don't react to it at all; don't even seem to hear it, honestly, which is likely given how distracted you currently are.

Your focus is entirely drawn to the house before you, your back to the street as you stare up at the brick facade. The house is stunning, absolutely covered top to bottom in all sorts of Christmas lights and decorations. It's by far the best display you've seen all year, and a breath of pure amazement leaves your lips as you take it in.

“Wow…” The word clouds the chilled air with a light puff of smoke. “Isn't it beautiful?” your awe bleeds into your voice, making it gentle, dreamy, like a sweet bell ringing in his ears.

Your tone has Gaz turning to face you, watching how you marvel at the way the lights twinkle and shine. A kaleidoscope of colors reflect off your skin, and an almost angelic glow seems to radiate from within you the longer he looks.

As he admires you, Gaz can't help how a smile slowly overtakes his face. With his eyes still trained on you, he takes your hand with his, and speaks softly, almost in a whisper, “Yeah… beautiful.”

[chqnified]

Comeback tomorrow, please, I'm not going to survive

[p1utofairy]

PAC: “i just wanna be your favorite…” ⭐️🎀💍

• which fictional characters is your person most like?

disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. take what resonates, leave what doesn't. i also just wanna say thank y'all from the bottom of my heart for the support <3 it means so much to me. enjoy!

pile 1 💸 —

"i can't wait 'til i get you on the floor, good-looking. hey, going hot, so hot, just like an oven. and ow! burned myself, i just had to touch it. but it's so fire, and it's all mine."

hiii pile 1! let me start off by saying your person is one fineeee m'fer! they look straight out of an old hollywood movie. suit & tie by justin timberlake ft. jay z won't stop playing in my head lol, their vibe is literally that song. they're gonna love taking you out to fun events and showing you off to people hehe i heard "trophy wife." this isn't in a superficial way by any means, they just really love how you look and how bright your personality shines. you have a mesmerizing appearance and an extraordinary personality to match. i feel like your eyes or their eyes is another main focus that will garner lots of compliments. ok, wow. back to the topic at hand! the characters i channeled were jay gatsby from ‘the great gatsby’, lon hammond from ‘the notebook’, and napoleon solo from ‘the man from U.N.C.L.E.’ now of course your person may not exactly look like these characters but the ✨vibes✨ are very much there. you're gonna have the time of your life with this person lol they are so damn fun and charismatic. i can hear them teasing you and and saying "don't be a brat, baby." with a sly smirk on their face LOL they're gonna make you feel so tingly and giddy inside ahhh. i feel like it was hard for them to settle down before you came into their life pile 1. they wanted to have their cake and eat it too. i mean this person could honestly have whatever they want, but you actually make them work for this relationship and they're not used to that. people (romantically and platonically) just fall for them at the drop of a dime because they are just so damn sexy, and it doesn't help that they're good with their words and actions. i just heard smooth operator by sade and ego by beyoncé at the same time lol this person is seriously a charmer! they can't help it though, they just love to socialize and have a good time. on the flip side, this sometimes weighs them down. the constant attention and socializing can make them feel overwhelmed at times. i'm thinking of ‘the great gatsby’ when jay kept throwing elaborate parties and inviting thousands of people to attend them, so that he could eventually catch daisy's attention. i'm hearing "when you're happy, they're happy!" random thought, but for some of you…your person could be from the UK/have a thick british accent. i also feel like your person is funny af, they've got jokes for dayssssss. they honestly take nothing serious…like if either of you had a bad day at work or just in general, TRUST that they will find a way to turn it around. like it'll actually amaze you how they just go through life vibing and you'll just be like how??? and i can hear them saying "i don't know, babe. i just got it like that." lol they're so cocky (but in an annoyingly hot way) you will never be able to stay mad at them. like if you were being petty and giving them the silent treatment for whatever reason…i can see you getting ready and they'd come up all close behind you, arms around your waist, kissing your neck and they'd be like "you still mad at me, baby?" and your brain would literally malfunction like €|>~€\€,\!|!]€]€YESNOYESNO.!:!,&:’ i'm crying this is hilarious. never a dull moment with them, pile 1. i'm telling ya!

other channeled messages:

theme from new york, new york by frank sinatra, gene kelly, tuxedo, her way by partynextdoor, sophisticated, expensive cologne, j'adore dior, pearly white teeth, cartier watch, swarovski crystals, meet me on the dance floor, babydoll by mariah carey, british, sprinter by dave & central cee, love island, damson idris, i'll make it happen, ballin’ by partynextdoor, diamonds are a girl's best friend

pile 2 💣 —

“who wants that perfect love story anyway, anyway. cliché, cliché, cliché, cliché. who wants that hero love that saves the day, anyway cliché, cliché, cliché, cliché.”

okayyyy pile 2, i see y'all with the bonnie and clyde vibes! let's buckle down and get serious though. i already feel like your person is very misunderstood. they might've had a rough childhood growing up or possibly struggled with connecting to their family. they feel like they fuck things up? they kinda think to themselves "why should i even try to be in a relationship, i'm a mess. i mess things up." it's actually sad because i feel like they're a great person (very soft and gentle) and when things go left/don't work out they immediately blame themselves because the blame was always put on them as a child. i'm hearing it's a "trauma response" :( aw pile 2 i feel like crying…your person really takes it on the chin and keeps it pushing. i can see them sitting on porch steps, gazing at the skyline and kinda just shrugging saying "that's just life i guess." they tend to self-sabotage before things even go into motion but before you two meet, they'll be pushed to confront their problems/fears. they have this cool, in-control, idgaf type of vibe on the outside but internally it's the opposite. i'm hearing pretty little fears by 6lack ft. j cole wow pile 2 they'll really have a soft spot for you. the characters i channeled were damon salvatore from ‘the vampire diaries’, luke glanton from ‘the place beyond the pines’ and tyler durden from ‘fight club’ which are some pretty complex personalities whew. your person is a loner by default, they feel like they really can't depend on many people. they've been left out in the cold so many times it's like they had no other choice but to become independent fast. when they meet you, pile 2…you're going to awaken them. i'm hearing j cole's verse in pretty little fears, “i'm loving your light, vulnerable. letting your guard down is honorable. 'specially when the past ain't been that friendly to you, but…there's magic in that.” it's gonna be insane to them how someone like you could display so much love, care and devotion towards them. i can see them keeping a really cute picture of you (or you two together) in their wallet/bag and just staring at it with a small smile on their face. you give them so much hope pile 2. they never knew they were capable of such strong emotions; love, happiness, joy. i can see you two laughing about something…you have this big grin on your face and when you turn your head to look at them, you just see them with a dopey smile on their face and a glint in their eyes just staring at you in awe. and you're just like "what?" but you don't even know how much you really mean to them in that moment. I'M ABOUT TO BURST INTO TEARS PLS I CAN'T. they're not used to anything stable, but you give them hope and anticipation for their future…with you. y'all are going to have to have so many enlightening, deep and forward-thinking conversations. i see them holding your hand and kissing your knuckles, taking random drives at night together while blasting music and going to the movies and talking/debating afterwards about what you hated and what you loved. k i'm crying, bye!

other channeled messages:

west coast by lana del rey, west side, successful relationship, turning tables by adele, cigarettes out the window by tv girl, well my boyfriend's in a band, ultraviolence album, someone like u (interlude) by ariana grande, toxic upbringing, scorpio moon, aries, smoking weed, american psycho, it's a forever thing

pile 3 🐚 —

“every little thing you do got me feeling some type of way. when you gimme that thunder you make my summer rain.”

welcome to your reading pile 3! idk why i wanted to say pile 333 hehe let's take that as a sign that you're about to meet your person soon. your person is so easy-going…like their energy feels so carefree and warm; like a nice summer breeze (i feel like some of you that chose this pile watch/really love the summer i turned pretty) i can see your person adjusting their sunglasses and saying "i'm just happy to be here." they're such a vibe lol. ok and why did i just randomly hear "no you're cute jeans." their sense of humor is so sjhfjdjcjdsn y'all are gonna have a lot of inside jokes together; internet memes especially. that "i'm sorry, i'm just in a silly goofy mood" shemar moore video just popped up in my head LMFAOOOO your person is hilarious pile 3. i channeled johnny storm from ‘fantastic four’, chad meeks-martin from ‘scream vi’, stefan salvatore from ‘the vampire diaries’ and conrad fisher from ‘the summer i turned pretty’ which are all pretty different but i see the vision pile 3…i see the vision. i feel like your person has just gotten back to themselves, because for awhile they weren't this upbeat and silly. i feel like this has to do with a past hurt/betrayal from either a friend or an ex-lover…that person took them for granted and made them feel small. i just randomly heard "katherine pierce" so maybe that person was very sneaky and never had good intentions in the first place. when they're with you though, they feel like a moth drawn to a flame. best friend by 50 cent just came to mind, "if i was your best friend, i want you 'round all the time. (i want you 'round me all the time) girl, i'll be your best friend if you promise you'll be mine (girl, promise you'll be mine)." i see you both posting funny photo dumps of you two together on instagram/instagram stories. i feel like y'all will be a PDA couple, and even if you aren't one of those type of people that likes all that…they're definitely gonna make you so happy that people visibly see the love between the two of you. i can see them kissing the side of your head, you slightly leaning into them…them giving you their hoodie/jacket to wear when you're cold. it's subtle things like that 🥹 so so so cute. you two have a very sacred, beautiful and divinely protected relationship. your person will be very generous with their time, money and love when it comes to you pile 3.

other channeled messages:

there goes my baby by usher, one in a million by ne-yo, connie baby, it's your world i'm just living in it, positions by ariana grande, unlock it by charlie xcx ft. kim petras & jay park, right my side by nicki minaj ft. chris brown, long walks on the beach, forever boy, vintage camera/digital camera, breakin’ my heart (pretty brown eyes) by mint condition, taylor swift, peter parker

pile 4 🌹—

“moment of honesty. someone's gotta take the lead tonight, who's it gonna be? i'm gonna sit right here and tell you all that comes to me. if you have something to say, you should say it right now.”

heyyy pile 4. i'm kinda stunned rn cause your person is sooooooooo captivated by you. like they wanted to skip all the bullshit and get right into it, and honestly…i #respect it. they think you're an absolute badass, you handle tough situations with so much grace. i'm hearing "you're better than me." lol they play no games pile 4, especially when it comes to you! i'm hearing that you've been through a lot, and it hasn't been easy for you to get to the point in your life that you're at now. they just wanna kiss you and make everything better. kiss it better by rihanna just started playing, "kiss it, kiss it, better baby." yeah your person is sensual af pile 4, it's givingggg taurus vibes. this is random af but i feel like they really love your back? if you wear a backless top or a backless dress, they will go absolutely FERAL. like fingers ghosting down your spine, their lips kissing down your neck…and don't get me started on the eye contact. their gaze is INTENSE. i’m hearing lyrics from nobody by selena gomez, "no kiss, no lips, no feel, no rush can keep me high, i swear no one…can love me like you do. can love me like you do, no." the characters i channeled were tobias eaton from ‘divergent’ and anakin skywalker from ‘star wars prequel trilogy’ which is so on brand. those 2 did not play about tris and padmé, ok?! you are their whole world pile 4. if it's not you, they don't want it. they feel so relaxed around you…like they can finally breathe. i can see them standing in a serious stance (obviously tense af) pondering about something and you just come behind them and wrap them in a big bear hug and they just…melt. they finally take that deep breath that they didn't even realize they were holding in for so long. they usually keep their feelings to themselves, but you create such a great safe space for them to be so open, honest and vulnerable; and vice versa. i'm also hearing that they are a very hands-on type of person, so whatever you need done/fixed, they sure as hell will find a way to do it for you. i can also see you two chilling/relaxing together a lot. don't get me wrong this person will always find something for you two to do, but there's something about that downtime (watching a movie while cuddled up with you on the couch, spending time with you and your loved ones/friends or taking a late night drive with you) that makes them think to themselves, "damn i really love life." 😮‍💨 you've got them locked in pile 4. it's so sweet & amazing.

other channeled messages:

1 of 1, peppers by lana del rey ft. tommy genesis, skywalker by miguel ft. travis scott, adore by cashmere cat ft. ariana grande, it's us against the world baby, 90210, pisces, dream guy, sauvage cologne, miss dior, sagittarius rising, virgo's groove by beyoncé, 1:11, best i ever had (remix) by drake & nicki minaj, all i want is you by miguel ft. j cole, bouquet of flowers, tennis bracelet, wild thoughts by dj khaled ft. rihanna & bryson tiller, cpr by summer walker

[malleleothreesome]

Stage Sex - Fellow Honest x Fem Reader (Part One)

🌟 summary: Fellow convinces you to become his latest star, taking your virginity shibari style in front of a live audience. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: afab fem reader. Porn with plot – if the plot is him convincing you to partake in the porn. I didn't write this with the intent of it being dubcon (in my mind, reader is a willing participant, and I never describe her as otherwise), but please err on the side of caution if you're sensitive to that. It's starring Fellow Honest, after all – he comes prepackaged with manipulation skills. He does use a bit of his UM after reader already consents, and I refer to his magic as hypnosis, playing into the fact that you're obedient to him and he can use you as he pleases. There is a MAJOR VOYEURISM theme to this. He calls you names like "good girl", "slut" and "whore". In part 1 he helps bring you to clitoral orgasm for the first time while he jerks himself off. Also a few lines of cunnilingus and some fingering. Shibari bondage starts in part 2, additional warnings will be listed there. Please let me know in the comments if I missed a warning or tag idk I haven't written something of this caliber before. ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 7.2k words because I'm DERANGED ༶༶༶ 🌟 song: Carousel - Melanie Martinez "And it's all fun and games... 'til somebody falls in love"

Fellow Honest’s tail swung back and forth. He had certainly done his research, and all of that hard work would finally pay off. He watched as you entered the theme park, skulking in the shadows behind the rest of the students. You struck him as an outcast—no friends, no family. A beautiful girl from another world, with a figure that would make even the Gods themselves lust after. The only magicless human girl at the all boy’s magic college. Nothing to lose. How perfect.

“Hello, Miss…?” Fellow’s eyebrow raises as he tilts his head, leaning towards you on his cane. His calculated, fox-like eyes drink in every inch of you. Extending his right arm out to you, he welcomes your hand into his.

“Y/N,” you answer, a bit startled at his overt friendliness. Yet, you allow his white satin glove to grasp firmly around your hand. 

“What a lovely name for such a breathtaking woman.” He bows forward to kiss your hand, maintaining fierce eye contact. In one swift motion, he turns toward his amusement park, wipes his mouth clean of your touch, and proudly waves his arm in the air to show off his property. 

“Miss Y/N! Welcome to Playfulland!” he boasts. He turns back toward you, weaseling his way deeper into your personal space. “It is an incredibly rare occasion to welcome someone as beautiful as you into my humble little park.”

You dismiss his praise with a flick of your palm and a shake of your head, desperately hoping not to blush. “Oh, no need to be so modest, dear. A shape like yours could make any man fall in love. I doubt the students at the college are the only ones that appreciate it.” A sly smile is plastered on his face while his eyes continue to look you up and down with intention. Your mind runs wild as you try not to absolutely melt into his praise. “Are you sure you’re not a talking doll? It’s a marvel that a woman so flawless could exist.”

You smile softly and look to the ground, cheeks burning. You tuck a strand of hair awkwardly behind your ear, stalling for composure. How are you supposed to respond to a handsome, magnetic stranger saying all the right things? Not a single soul has spoken so highly of you since you found yourself trapped in this world, forced to attend Night Raven College. Your growing ego leaves you no choice but to soak it all in.

“Tell me, Miss Y/N. Have you ever thought about becoming a performer?” He doesn’t pause to let you answer. ���Why waste your valuable early 20’s by studying and attending lectures and surrounding yourself with pathetic boys? Women as blessed as you are don’t need a degree. Surely a wealthy man can care for you far beyond a measly degree. And while you wait for him, why not fill your days with fame, riches, and adoration from performing on my stage?”

You stand in a stunned silence. This guy isn’t holding anything back, is he? Charm and charisma ooze from each syllable, making your heart race. It feels a little wrong, basking in the praise of a stranger like this. But you feel beyond lonely and underappreciated at NRC. You long to feel wanted and cared about. Why not give this attractive, complimentary man a chance?

Before you know it, the fox beastman's arms are wrapped around your torso, pulling you closer to him. "Oh, how rude I am!" he exclaims. "I haven't even given you my name."

"Allow me to properly introduce myself." With a quick spin of his heels, he steps back and bows, taking your hand once again. "The name's Fellow Honest, owner of Playfulland." He lifts his head, keeping his eyes locked on yours. "But please, you're welcome to call me whatever you'd like." He winks.

You could have sworn you felt a physical spark. Suddenly lightheaded, you pull your hand from his grasp, heart pounding in your chest. You can't take your eyes off him. You can't tell if your nervous system is trying to tell you to run towards or away from him. The longer you stare into his fire-orange eyes, the weaker your knees feel. He’s so close you can feel the heat emanating off of his body—is his perfume made of magic? 

Something inside of you urges you to step away and re-evaluate. "Uh... I should probably get back to my friends," you stammer, trying to get your legs to move. "I'm sure they're wondering where I went. Thank you for the, uh, offer, though. I’ll think about it."

Fellow's arm is suddenly around your waist yet again, his fingers pressed firmly against your lower back as he pulls you close. Your eyes widen and your breathing hitches as you make contact with his chest. You feel his lips brush against your ear, and he whispers, "I have to insist, my dear. My employees are quite skilled, but you'd be the best thing that has graced my stage in years. It would be an honor to have someone of your caliber work for me."

His proximity. His hot breath on your ear. His possessive touch digging into the soft skin of your back. You feel a familiar flutter deep in between your thighs—you like this. You want to protest, to push him away, but the electricity between you is hypnotizing. His aroma—sweet wine and fresh roses—only adds to the spell, drowning out all logic and giving way to your body’s desperate pleas to take the lead.

"I have an office inside the theater where we can discuss this further, if you'd like," he purrs, and you can feel his lips curve into a smirk against your skin. "And please, take all the time you need. You're welcome to stay the night. We have luxurious rooms available—a small taste of the lifestyle you’d have if you make the right choice. I'll have someone escort you back to campus if you change your mind."

Your eyes dart around, desperately looking for a familiar face—a way out. Where the Hell did Ace go?! What about Leona or Trey–surely your upperclassmen should have stuck around to make sure the only magically defenseless student isn’t being taken advantage of by any sexy, suspicious strangers. Not to mention the fact that you’re the only girl at school. Chivalry must be extinct in Twisted Wonderland. You feel your heart drop: maybe they never cared about you at all.

Fellow's tail flicks in excitement as he watches your expression. Your eyes are wide and panicked, and he can sense your desperation. He smothers his own smile as your body language slowly indicates defeat. How utterly effortless! He has you right where he wants you. You're his to play with, and no one is there to stop him.

"Come now, dear, it won't hurt to indulge a little," Fellow coos sweetly. Your brain short circuits, blocking all thoughts unrelated to the electrifying feeling of his slender fingers dancing along your waistline. "You're already here! Why not stay and have some fun?" His lips find their way to your neck and you let out a soft gasp as a pulsing warmth radiates from your cunt.

"Fine," you finally whisper.

Fellow chuckles victoriously against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "I knew you’d be such a good girl." He spins you around, the sexual tension forcibly dissipating as he rips you from your lascivious thoughts and begins walking you down the cobblestone path. His hand rests on the small of your back, and his cane taps merrily against the concrete as you go. Your mind is still reeling from the shocking exchange, and you can barely match his pace as he escorts you to the grand theater. 

You stifle a blush as you hear park goers whisper amongst themselves, eyes glued on you, mouths falling open. "Who is that? Is she a celebrity?”

“She looks like a supermodel,” a woman chimes in, her tone covetous. 

Fellow would never waste an opportunity for free advertisement. He turns his head toward the group as you both keep walking. “Stick around ‘til after dark and you might just see this beauty show it all off on my grand stage!” He shouts, waving his cane in the air. 

The two of you enter the theater and Fellow wastes no time leading you up the stairs toward a private hallway. His hand never leaves your waist. You pass several doors before reaching a pair of large, heavy wooden doors, which Fellow opens with ease.

You can't help but gawk at the size of his office. A massive, ornate wooden desk sits in the middle of the room, flanked by shelves lined with books and trinkets. There's a fireplace and two plush leather couches, as well as a small bar in the corner of the room.

"Please, make yourself at home," Fellow says as he closes the door behind him. He makes his way over to the bar, grabbing a bottle of wine with two glasses. You perch on one of the leather couches and he joins you, placing the wine and glasses on the table in front of you. As you inspect his office, you can't help but feel drawn to a mannequin adorned with a gorgeous bejeweled brassiere and matching pants—if there’s enough coverage to even call them that. Your faces heat up, and you quickly turn away.

"Beautiful, isn't it? One of my favorites," Fellow says, following your gaze. "Unfortunately, no one has had the pleasure of modeling it just yet." He furrows his brows in disappointment. He pops the cork on the wine bottle and begins to pour. "Maybe tonight will be the night. How lucky for me that I have the perfect model."

Something is starting to feel very exciting about all of this. You’ve never had an opportunity to wear such a costume. After being enrolled in Night Raven College only because Crowley didn't know what else to do with you, being here is starting to feel quite freeing. And the way Fellow looks at you… you’ve never felt more attractive. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, gifting you the courage and desire to be exactly who he believes you to be.

"Would you like to try it on?"

The question catches you off guard. He's now looking smugly at you. Your cheeks flush red, but you hold eye contact.

"Wh-what?"

"The outfit, Darling," Fellow says, nodding his head toward the mannequin. "You can try it on if you'd like." You take a long sip of red wine, savoring the smooth fruitiness. It immediately goes to your head, and you can't help but down the rest of it.

"Come now, Love," Fellow says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "We both know what you want."

You stare at the outfit and then back at him. Your whole body feels like it's on fire. This is a bad idea, right? Or is it?

"Okay," you say, almost surprising yourself.

Fellow claps his hands together in delight. "Wonderful! Don't worry, I'm a gentleman—I'll look away while you get changed."

You make your way over to the mannequin, wobbling a bit from the alcohol. The bra is a dark purple while the jewels are varying shades of blue, making the whole outfit glitter like the night sky. The "pants" are a matching, dark purple lace thong, with ribbon and jewel embellishments. There is a sparkling, sheer miniskirt attached, more of an accentuation than actual coverage. You reach out to touch the fabric, marveling at how silky it feels. It's so sexy. Imagining yourself wearing it on stage in front of thousands of people, with everyone staring at you, craving you, makes you a bit wet with excitement. Maybe you do want this.

You look at Fellow one more time to ensure he’s not peeping.

Reader, take note that Fellow is, in fact, peeping—through his pocket mirror that he is blocking with his body. He’s far too good at this. 

Feeling secure, you unbutton your uniform blazer, letting it slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. You undo the buttons of your shirt next, slowly exposing your bare chest. 

Fellow bites his lip as he stares into the mirror, watching in awe as you undress. Your body is even more incredible than he could have imagined. 

You slip off your shorts and underwear next, leaving you completely naked except for your bra. Your hands fumble a bit as you unhook the costume, letting it fall to the floor. 

Fellow feels his pants tighten. 

You can feel yourself getting more aroused, the excitement of being naked in a room with a stranger—soon to show off a revealing costume—starts to go to your head. You grab the brassiere off the mannequin, throwing your arms through the loops, eager to see if you look as good in it as you hope you will. 

Fellow takes his sweet time watching in the pocket mirror. He grins, pleased with your inexperience, watching carefully so that he can see every inch of your struggle, savoring in it. “Oh, how easy this is,” he thinks.

After finally finding the right combination of hooks and clasps, you manage to get the brassiere fastened. You gasp softly, feeling the cool jewels press against your nipples through sheer fabric. You can't help but feel like it was made specially for you. The way it pulls your boobs together to create perfect, plump cleavage gives you actual pride. You shimmy the panties on next, loving the way the lacy fabric rubs against your clit as you pull the thong taut against your hips—a tingling reminder that your body is desperate for any sort of friction that may be interpreted as pleasure. You give your ass a little shake as you put on the skirt, reveling in how good the material feels as it brushes against your bare skin. Engrossed in your own experience, you’re completely unaware that you're giving Fellow quite the show. 

He can't help but lick his lips, reaching down to massage his groin through his slacks. 

You spin around and strike a pose for your imaginary crowd, feeling powerful. 

"Are you ready, my love?" Fellow asks, startling you out of your daydream. 

He pockets his mirror and adjusts the front of his pants, trying to disguise his erection as best he can.

"I'm ready."

"Show me what you've got," he says. You both turn around to face each other and he gasps, his eyes widening and mouth falling open.

"My goodness, darling," he whispers. "You're exquisite."

The way he's looking at you makes you feel like the sexiest woman alive. You take a step forward, heart pounding in your chest. Fellow stands up, taking his cane in his hand. He walks over to you and stalks circles around you, gazing up and down as though inspecting merchandise. You yelp as his cold, hard cane smacks your ass.

Finally he stops directly in front of you, meeting your gaze once again. "Oh, Darling, you're an absolute vision." He cups your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb across your lips. He wears a sinister smile, and you feel your mouth run dry as you finally realize how sharp his fangs are. You're almost certain he can tell how turned on you are right now.

He pulls away to replenish your wine glass.

"I can't wait to see you dance, my dear. You're going to be a star." He gazes dramatically into the distance, waving his hand like he’s envisioning your name written in dazzling lights. He hands you the full glass and you gulp it down greedily, eager for the liquid courage. You don't even care that this man is a total stranger—it actually makes it hotter.

"Oh, one more thing," Fellow says. He stands up and walks over to the mannequin, opening a drawer next to it and grabbing a matching set of lacy thigh highs. He kneels down in front of you, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he slips the stockings onto your feet. He repeats the process on your other leg, taking his time to run his hands up and down your thighs.

You bite your lip and look away, feeling embarrassed by how wet you are. He's so close to where you want him to touch you, and you're not sure how much longer you can stand this before giving in and doing something you might later regret.

Fellow stands up, his hands gliding up your legs as he does. He gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up so you're forced to look at him.

"What a naughty little minx," he whispers. "You're practically dripping." He smirks, once again bearing his fangs in the process.

Your eyes widen, cheeks flushing pink.

Fellow laughs. "Oh, there's no use hiding it, love. I can smell it." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal. "It’s heavenly."

God dammit. You can't help but throw your head back in frustration from being outed so easily. Never underestimate a beastman's sense of smell.

He lets go of your chin and steps away from you. You let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding.

"Don't worry, darling," he says, making his way back to the bar. "I'll make sure you're properly taken care of." He refills his glass and downs it. He doesn't know how long he's going to be able to wait until he's inside you.

You try to get back on track to a more... professional topic. "So, is this the type of outfit I would wear if I were to perform?" You try to sound as innocent as possible.

Fellow laughs a slow, deranged, almost maniacal laugh that makes your skin crawl. "Oh, no, darling. Outfits like these are reserved for the backup dancers. With the plans I have for you, you'll be wearing far less." He sets his wine glass on his desk and opens one of the drawers, pulling out a roll of thin, dark brown rope. Your heart pounds in your chest as he walks toward you, unraveling the rope as he goes.

You stumble backwards instinctively and even in your drunken haze, you start trying to take note of your surroundings and look for the exit. "Is this a joke?" you ask, trying to sound as calm as possible. "You know you don't need to tie me up if you want me to stay, right?" You try your best to reason with him and hope to God you didn’t put yourself in harm’s way.

"Oh, I'm not tying you up to get you to stay, Miss Y/N." He puts on his most pleasant and agreeable facial expression, lips contorting into an innocent cat-like smile, eyes crinkled as he feigns benevolence. "It smells to me like you'd do that all on your own. Am I correct?" He tilts his head toward you and gazes into your soul with piercing, knowing eyes. 

He makes a show of walking over to the door and opening it, waving his hand through the open air of the doorframe. "Make no mistake, I'm certainly not forcing you to stay here. You are welcome to leave right now. I'll even let you keep the outfit, if you’d like." He gives you a knowing smirk and continues to hold the door open.

You gulp, feeling the familiar heat between your thighs grow stronger. Your mind is racing, trying to think of every possible rationalization to feel safe staying—anything to get your pussy the relief it deserves. If he really was a predator—you try to reason with yourself—you'd probably be dead by now. And he was right, you do feel like you could get off, just from being tied up. Your body seems to be the decision-maker here, and it’s telling you to stay.

You shake your head at his offer. "No, I'm good."

"Wonderful," he purrs, his expression darkening. He slams the door shut and turns the lock, letting the thud of the door ricochet through your body. "Now then! The reason I am tying you up is for your performance. Just a few short hours until showtime!" He steps forward, closing the gap between you. He runs his fingertips down your bare arm, stopping to wrap them around your wrist. You shiver at his touch, your body instinctively leaning toward him, yearning for more. Your face flushes red with embarrassment and arousal. You don't understand how he's able to turn you on so easily.

"You see, my dear," Fellow begins, his voice soft and seductive, "I'm not the only one who's been watching you hungrily." You feel his hot breath on your neck as he brings his lips close to your ear. "Believe me, Doll, they're going to love what they see." He takes your hand in his and places it on the bulge in his pants. His cock throbs beneath his clothes and your eyes widen at how big he is.

"I'm not just a magician, but a master of hypnosis as well," he elucidates. 

He's never before been so forthcoming in his whole career, but there's just something about you that makes him want to be upfront. 

Truthfully, he hasn't had to use any hypnosis magic at all to persuade you. No, you wanted this on your own. Despite your innocence and reluctance—you wanted him. His cold heart skips a beat at the thought. He releases your hand and once again cups your cheek. He pushes a thumb past your lips and forces you to suck on it. A deep moan escapes his lips as the sensation of your soft tongue against his thumb runs straight to his aching loins. Removing his thumb from your mouth, he slides it down your chin, tracing your jawline before moving to your neck. You arch your back and press your body against his, feeling the tip of his thumb press along your jugular, sending chills down your spine.

"And I can assure you that by the time I'm done with you, you'll be the perfect little hypnotized whore." You shudder as his tongue traces the side of your neck—it feels so good. He continues to drag his tongue up to your ear, and you moan loudly as he suckles your earlobe. Your knees are giving out, so you wrap your arms around him for support. "That's the beauty of my magic, love. No prior experience necessary. I'll ensure you put on the show of a lifetime. Simply allow yourself to enjoy the ride." You whimper softly, unable to form coherent thoughts or speak intelligibly, too caught up in the way he's pleasuring you.

"But don't worry, Love," he says, his voice low and raspy. "You'll still remember everything when we're done."

Your head is dizzy, trying desperately to process his every word. You can't stop yourself from moaning as his hands continue to explore. As far as the current circumstances go, nothing matters, as long as he’s making you feel this damn good. He takes his time groping and squeezing wherever—and whatever—he can get his greedy hands on, relishing in the opportunity to touch your perfect frame.

Looking into your eyes, he's suddenly overcome with emotion—unusual for him. This isn't something he's ever done with his employees, but there is a twinge in his chest willing him to do it. Perhaps—just this once—he can deviate from the script. Fellow hungrily crashes his lips against yours, kissing you passionately. You melt against him, opening your mouth to grant him entry. You feel yourself losing control as he dominates your mouth, exploring every inch with his tongue. You grip onto his hair, pulling him closer. His fangs lightly graze your bottom lip and it makes you shiver. The way he kisses you is so possessive and needy, and it's driving you wild. You've never been kissed like this before. His hands travel down your body and grip your ass tightly, causing you to yelp. Your hands claw at his blue coat and green vest, desperately trying to remove his clothes so you can feel his bare skin. He growls into your mouth before breaking the kiss.

"Eager little thing, aren't you?" he murmurs against your lips.

You nod in response, gasping when he suddenly pulls away. Seeing how needy you are, he smirks, delighted at how much you want him.

"Oh, Darling. Why don't you save that for the audience?" he teases. "You're going to put on a good show for them, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'll do my best. I promise I'll make you proud," you gasp, feeling even more aroused by his words.

"That's a good girl." Fellow paces the room, circling you like a vulture. You can feel his eyes on you and can't help but squirm under his gaze. He grabs the rope from earlier, stopping right in front of you. His cane appears in his grasp, seemingly out of thin air. "Such a perfect little slut, so eager to please. I bet you'd do anything I asked you to, wouldn't you?" he asks, spinning his cane with the flick of his fingers, utilizing his hypnosis magic for the first time that day. He needs to ensure your loyalty lies with him.

"Yes." You answer without reluctance.

Fellow's cane magically disappears from his hand. "Such a good little whore." He takes a strand of your hair in his fingers and twirls it before gently tucking it behind your ear. "Now, a few more formalities before we get you ready for the stage. Shall we?" You flinch at the sound of him smacking the rope against the floor, like he's trying to command a circus animal.

Your mind is fuzzy, body practically burning with desire—you don't even notice him guiding you to his desk. He bends you over the hard wood, your breasts and stomach pressing against the cool surface. He presses his body against yours, his erection grinding between your ass cheeks, and you can't help but moan. Fellow rips off his gloves, tossing them aside. His right hand snakes around your body and reaches into your panties, his fingers rubbing against your wet clit. He slips a finger inside you—finally.

"My, my…" he whispers. "So wet for me already. You’ll look so beautiful when you're on stage for everyone to see. My precious little toy."

Your breathe heavier as he continues to fuck you with his finger, tantalizingly slow. Just as you open your mouth to beg for more, he slips his finger out of you and slams a contract on the table in front of you.

"I need you to sign this first. Standard contract," he says casually. "This is a business, after all." He drops a pen within your reach. All the while, he continues grinding against you, his clothed cock rubbing against the sheer fabric of your panties, further tantalizing your throbbing clit. "Go ahead, Darling. I can't wait to show you off."

You sign your name on the dotted line, quickly dismissing what seems to be the final roadblock in your path to pleasure. There's nothing else in your psyche than how badly you need him to fuck you. Your pussy aches with desire—you can't wait any longer. "Please. Please, fuck me," you whimper, begging him to give you what you want.

"Oh, Darling," he purrs. "All in due time."

Fellow leans in close to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "I wonder how many people will come tonight just to see this pretty little body of yours?" he asks. "How many men and women will stare at you, touching themselves as you writhe in pleasure? I bet you can't wait for them to see how much of a needy little whore you are. You were born to be a star." His voice is soft and seductive as he plays on your desperation.

"Now. Let's get you out of these clothes." He expertly unhooks your bra with a single hand. With a swift yank, it falls to the floor, revealing your perfect tits, hard nipples on full display. "Beautiful. So deliciously plump and round, my flawless doll." 

You're still bent over the table as his fingers snake into the elastic waistband of your skimpy skirt and thong. He pulls it taut, ready to tear it right off of you... but he hesitates, remembering its one-of-a-kind value. Squatting slightly, he gently pulls your skirt and panties to the floor, utilizing the opportunity to bask in the aroma and view of your now-exposed pussy. He grabs your thighs where the stockings are and, quite impatient, rolls them down as his fingernails trail lines down the flesh of your legs in the process. He guides your feet out of each leg hole, revealing your full nudity. Seeing your juices glisten makes his eyes light up, mouth curling into a grin. His mouth waters and he inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent. He can't help but lean for a taste, his tongue gliding against your folds and lapping up your essence. Your knees buckle as his warm, wet tongue explores your deprived cunt. Nothing has ever felt so good. Your entire body trembles and you cry out in pleasure. He keeps his hands firmly planted on your ass, holding you in place as he continues to lap up your pussy. It feels so good, it's almost painful. He pulls away after a moment and you whimper at the loss of contact.

"So, tell me, Love. Are you a virgin?" he asks with a sneaking suspicion. He traces his fingertips down your spine, awaiting your response.

You shudder, the feeling of his fingers on your bare skin is so tantalizing. "Yes," you answer, unable to hold back your excitement.

Fellow's eyes widen, surprised by how easy it was to get you to admit that. He smirks, continuing to caress your back. "Ah, perfect," he hums. "What a privilege it is to deflower you." He reaches for his phone on his desk and utilizes the speech to text feature to say one thing: “We’ve got a virgin.” He clicks the display off and gives you a wink. "The marketing team will start advertising for a very special show tonight. I wonder how many people will come to watch me break in a virgin? I'm sure we'll sell out! An incredibly rare specimen indeed."

His words send a chill down your spine. The thought of thousands of people watching you lose your virginity excites you even further, and you find yourself becoming increasingly aroused. Your whole body is hot—you can't help but squirm as your juices slowly drip down both legs. You shudder, picturing an entire audience getting aroused, their attention rapt on you. Just the thought of how many people will want you... all of those horny people, with their eager bodies and impatient erections at the sight of you losing your innocence. A hot sensation pools deep in your belly and your clit throbs with need. You roll your hips back toward him, wordlessly indicating your desires.

He pockets his phone, delighted that the plan is progressing so flawlessly. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever orgasmed before?" You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and you shake your head. He grins, leaning in closer, his tail swishing between his legs and up onto your throbbing clit. It tickles so good. "Have you ever touched yourself?" Your body heats up, and a wave of shyness washes over you as you attempt to suppress a groan. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. He wants you to surrender yourself completely. "What a beautiful thing, modesty…" he muses. "Tell me, Dear. No need to be so shy." Your face is turning a dark crimson, and he's never found something so appealing in all his years.

"No. Not successfully," you answer softly. You've never been able to get yourself off. Your hands would wander as you'd lie in bed, desperate to find some sort of relief, but it never came. You've never had that pleasure before, and you were starting to think you may never experience it.

"Oh, Darling, you poor thing. I'll have to take care of that for you. I know all the tricks.” Hearing the zipper of his pants, you gasp in anticipation. He takes his cock out of his boxers and you feel the flesh of his hardened tip slide over your wet labia. He takes your hand in his and guides it to your clit, teaching you how to circle your fingers around it in the perfect motion.

"Just like that, Love," he whispers, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "You're doing so well. Doesn't that feel good?" You moan softly as he continues to guide you, his free hand on his cock, sliding up and down its length, using your never-ending juices as lubrication. He bucks his hips slightly as he starts to jerk himself off, letting out a quiet moan, teasing himself and rubbing his cock head against the sopping wet folds of your untouched pussy—knowing he has to save it if he wants a fruitful show. The way your face contorts and your lips part with desperate pleasure, he suddenly has to fight himself not to lose control and break your hymen right then and there.

Knowing that Fellow can’t help but touch himself to you amplifies the pleasure even further. Your fingers continue to dance over your clit and for the first time, it feels amazing. Every nerve in your body is electrified, your breath coming in short pants. Your hand feels like it's floating through space as he moves you like a puppet, directing your motions the way that he wants you. He rubs himself a bit faster as he watches you writhing, becoming more desperate and vocal than before. His own lust becomes insatiable. He’s sculpting you into the perfect masterpiece, just the way he likes it—his own custom sex toy.

"Just imagine all those people in the audience," he murmurs. His hand quickens on his cock and he groans. His hand over yours speeds up to match his pace, and he adds more pressure to show you exactly how to pleasure yourself. "All of those hungry eyes on you, craving every inch of you…" His hips jerk slightly and he moans, losing himself to his own dirty thoughts. Your clit is throbbing so painfully that tears begin to form at the edges of your eyes. He has never seen anyone become so intoxicated with the simple idea of him before, and you don't even realize how loud and desperate your moans and cries have become. His face flushes every time you scream his name, and your beautiful expression fills him with the greatest satisfaction, an image forever imprinted in his brain. The sight of you, so eager to please him—he knows now that he'll never let you go.

You feel yourself approaching explosion—the very first time—and your muscles tense in response. "Oh, fuck, every single one of them will be touching themselves, getting off to the sight of you, desperate to be where I am right now. And here you are, moaning my name as I prepare you, just aching for me to bring you to your first orgasm. You'll look so beautiful when I pop that sweet little cherry of yours." 

He groans and bucks his hips, jerking himself off faster and faster. Your clit throbs, ready to explode. "You want to cum, don't you, darling?" His voice is low and husky, and he pants heavily. "Cum for me, darling, cum for me. I want to hear you scream for me." Your toes curl, knees buckling in ecstasy. He guides your hand even faster over your clit. "That's it, Love, just let go." His voice is the sweet encouragement that pushes you over the edge, almost on command. You feel a strange electricity ripple through your leg muscles, a release that exceeds every single thing you thought you knew about pleasure.

Your first true orgasm rips through your body like a tornado, tearing apart any inhibitions and preconceived notions about reality. Everything around you turns bright white as euphoria sweeps through your body, wave after wave leaving you moaning and shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Your legs feel like jelly, and it becomes impossible to hold yourself up. His fingers leave yours, transferring their tight grip to your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him as he fucks himself furiously to the sight of you. You were like putty in his hand, melting and molding according to his wishes—a perfect, brainwashed, fucked-out little slut.

Fellow lets out a strained grunt as he orgasms, painting your ass with his seed. He can't help but sigh in pleasure as he gazes lovingly at the blank and pliant expression on your face as he drains the rest of himself onto you. He sighs as his last spurts dribble from the tip of his cock, admiring how much he's marked you as his. You're still shaking and whimpering as you come down from your high, your face contorted in pleasure, your eyes glazed over and staring into nothing. You look absolutely fucked out, and he takes a moment to admire your blissful expression before finally releasing you from his grip. He gives you a small push, causing you to fall forward onto your hands. He takes a step back to admire his handiwork—your thighs are soaked with your own cum, and your ass is dripping with his.

"Such a good girl," he praises. "You did such a good job for me. You're going to be the best performer I’ve ever had. It's about time we take you to the stage to get you set up, my dear. You’re better than I could have ever imagined.” You can only gasp, too wrecked from your pleasure to respond in words. Fellow grins with satisfaction, memorizing the sight of his seed glistening all over your back, chuckling to himself as he wipes it off with a tissue. He tosses the tissue into a random corner of his office and then helps you find your footing again.

Gently lifting your chin, his gaze softens, mouth opening to form a gentle smirk. His thumb brushes against your trembling bottom lip, a caring and fond expression overtaking his features. 

Your heart leaps into your throat as you begin to question the warmth in his smile and his affectionate gaze. Is your body's chemical response misreading signals, or are you witnessing evidence that Fellow perhaps has a bit more going on than simply taking sexual interest? A new, deeper desire to understand the mysterious man behind the curtain of your own experience begins to bloom in your mind. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your cheek. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your lips and you return it, savoring the way his soft lips feel against yours. It feels so intimate, like a lover's kiss, and your heart flutters in your chest. You pull away and look into his eyes once more, trying to figure out what he's thinking, but you can't read his expression. His face is completely unreadable, granting you no indication as to whether you're making any progress in decoding him.

He takes off his coat and helps you put it on, wrapping you up to ensure your modesty is protected for your short walk to the stage. He takes your hand and guides you out of his office, your legs still shaking from climax.

You walk together in silence, hand in hand, your head still spinning as you try to process everything that just happened. You can't believe how incredible your first orgasm felt, and you're already craving another.

"What are you thinking about, Darling?"

"I'm thinking about how I’ve never felt that good before," you admit, blushing slightly.

Fellow chuckles. "That's very sweet," he says. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. I'll be sure to give you many more orgasms in the future." His grip on your hand tightens slightly, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing for him.

You continue walking in silence until you arrive at the stage. Fellow stops in front of the stage door and turns to face you.

"Are you ready, Love?" he asks, his voice gentle. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. His carnelian gaze holds yours, his hot breath dancing across your fingers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Your heart swells and you feel yourself melting.

You nod enthusiastically and squeeze his hands, hoping he doesn't pick up on your nervous, pounding heartbeat. "I'm ready," you affirm, gazing intently into his beautiful, half-lidded eyes, feeling braver and more confident than you have all day.

He flashes a subtle smile. "Wonderful." He gives you one last peck on the cheek before turning to open the stage door. He places his free hand on your lower back and guides you onto the stage, leading you towards the center, where the lighting crew are busy at work. He introduces you and makes a show of presenting you to the crew—holding out your arm like he would for a debutante entering a ball, a prince presenting his chosen partner to a ballroom dance. The crew whistle and holler as you walk onto the stage. All you can do is stand there with the distinct smile of a hypnotized-yet-willing participant in the world's most eccentric 18+ theater. Their ogling is the furthest thing from your mind, as your attention remains firmly rooted on the charismatic manager in your grasp.

"Sorry, Boys. This one is mine. No one can have her but me." He places his hand on the side of your arm and pulls you close to him, draping an arm over your waist possessively.

As you glance up, your breath catches and your heart skips a beat; your adoring, hungry gaze is returned by his, a mirror of your own emotions shining through in his flaming irises. There's something strange about his stare—there always is. His face betrays some of that vulnerability again, an instance where he's truly letting his guard down, a crack in his meticulous and calculated visage. It’s a warm hint of softness that signals what he said to the crew might ring true outside of these walls as well.

Fellow turns back toward the crew as a new scene is placed before them, and within a split second, he resumes his demeanor of a business-oriented gentleman. "One hour ‘til showtime. Make her shine, People! We want the audience drooling the second she gets on stage!" He holds out his hand, his cane reappearing like magic. "Have fun in makeup!" He winks at you, the flick of his head gesturing you away.

Stylists appear behind you, and you reluctantly release your hold on him. He flashes a reassuring smile as you are guided away, a bewitchingly charming smile settling onto his lips. You head backstage, and he turns to get back to business.

Damn, if you made it all the way down here... wow. Thank you so much for spending this time with me. If you enjoyed this, that means a lot to me because this is pretty much just a self indulgent fic I started writing as soon as Fellow dropped without really knowing too much about him. I haven't begun writing part two, but I have my general ideas of where I want it to go. If you have suggestions for part two, please comment or send me an ask, I'd love to hear your thoughts! ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome

[thatfreshi]

Hi! Can I request a story about Tav having trouble fighting cause Astarion just fed on her and so he gets worried and protective ofc. Maybe they were ambushed at camp or something? Thank you so much for your work! I really like how you write Astarion

Tw - animal attack, lots of gore, themes of death

Recommended Song: Seek and Destroy - SZA

Against better judgment, you let Astarion feed on you almost every night. It's just one of those things, a sacrifice you make, an act of love. After decades of disrespect, scavenging for next to nothing, you thought it'd be nice for him to have something better than animals. While he always insists it isn't necessary, he never passes you up on the offer. A ritual before bed every night, like a lover's embrace, you've come to adore the feeling of his teeth.

This evening in particular, he took quite a bit. You don't mind, considering you go to bed almost right after. Light-headed, woozy, you're wrapped up in his arms.

"Thank you darling."

His embrace almost feels warm when you're this drained. You almost drift off, but he keeps you awake.

"Tav, you need to eat something first."

You groan, absolutely exhausted, trying to keep him in the bedroll.

"Nooo, I'll just do it tomorrow."

He smiles, moving your hair out of your eyes.

"That's not how it works my sweet. Now, let me get up so I can-"

Goblin war drums. The sound of the percussive rhythms bouncing off all the trees, they're not far off, and Astarion knows they're on the way. Karlach starts making her way to every tent, telling your companions to get their asses in gear.

"Tav, Astarion, let's go!"

"Shit."

Astarion whispers to himself. You're still not fully there, in and out of sleep.

"What's going on?"

Double vision, you see two of your vampire lover get up and start rummaging around for his daggers.

"Just- just stay here Tav. It's alright."

You try to rub at your eyes, desperately wanting to figure out what's going on. Before you can ask again, he's gone, and you hear more war drums outside. You quickly realize it's goblins. They must've found where you've been hiding, but your head is still spinning. Trying to get up and grab your blade, you almost fall back to the ground. Steadying yourself for a moment, you try your best to listen to what's going on outside. It sounds deadly, metal, screams. You hear Shadowheart casting left and right.

When you manage to stumble out of the tent, you're tackled by one of their dogs, or whatever wretched things they are. A scream rips out of your throat, trying to hold the thing off. It bites rabidly at your arm, leaving numerous gashes, until it's thrown off of you and stabbed to death, relentlessly.

"Gods damnit, I told you to stay in the tent Tav!"

You're too worried about your arm throbbing in pain to care about the validity of his argument. He's angry, and perhaps both of you aren't entirely certain why. It's your dominant arm, you can barely move it. Astarion goes to wrap your arm, but is quickly overpowered by the numbers again. They must've sent a large party after the lot of you. Halsin and Shadowheart are running out of magic, already drained. It's bad, but it'll end soon. With a couple more fights and a thunderwave from Gale, the rest of the goblins scurry off, knowing they're fighting a losing battle. Astarion doesn't even stop to loot their corpses, running to your side.

"You're a fucking idiot Tav, you know that?"

Gods, he could sound so mean when he wanted to. You know he says those things out of fear, but they still hurt. Despite how angry he is, he starts ripping pieces of cloth from his shirt, wrapping your arm, which is bleeding far too fast. Shadowheart and Halsin come over to supervise, both out of arcana until they get some rest.

"Yes, the two of you standing over my shoulder is quite helpful. Might as well cheer me on while you're at it!"

His movements are ragged, furious, only making your arm hurt more than it does. He's lost though, somewhere in his head, unable to hear the cries of pain as he's wrapping your arm. You're even more lost than before, your blood leaving rapidly.

"Aster, I-"

"Hush."

He then realizes you were going to tell him you were about to pass out, because you almost immediately fall over.

"Damnit!"

He holds you in his arms, your limb still not fully wrapped.

"If the two of you want to be helpful, get me some actual bandages instead of gawking at me!"

Sure, Astarion hates doing things that require hard work, but he knows how. How many times did he have to do something like this to himself, when no one was there to help wrap his wounds? Shadowheart quickly returns with all of the bandage wraps she has.

"We have to clean it or it'll get infected."

"Well, Shadowheart, I don't know how you think you're going to clean it if Tav bleeds to death."

The two healers decide it's best if he handles this himself. While he obsessively wraps your arm, the rest of the camp watches on, knowing he's too possessive to let them help. He doesn't trust them like he trusts you.

And I trusted you to stay put.

There's no way to give you more blood, not in a way that would work for you. For a moment, he simply thinks that he'll feed you some of his blood, and then he remembers. All he can do is hope you retained enough, that he didn't preemptively kill you by feeding on you tonight. Your pulse is still going, but it's slow, and you're paler than usual.

Astarion begins to think to himself, asking why he ever fell in love, why he ever let himself think twice about you. It's easy to play the game when you have nothing to lose. Second thoughts, always, he's always thinking for two people now. It's been his survival, for as long as he can remember, and now you're lodged in his brain.

"Damn you Tav, I can't do this. I can't lose you like this."

He begins to sob as he holds you, still unconscious. This beckons Gale to come over, often a voice of reason for the vampire.

"You've done all you can. Perhaps we should get Tav back inside? Away from the elements?"

Astarion is too distraught to argue, helping Gale carry you back into the tent.

"The second Shadowheart is awake, she'll be back to check on Tav."

"Yeah, if they don't die from blood loss in the middle of the night."

Gale simply sighs, knowing there's no point in fighting with him. He leaves your pale lover to wallow in his misery. Hours pass, you're still clinging on, and Astarion watches over you, panicking every time he can't see your chest rise and fall, constantly checking your pulse. You're cold, your heartbeat dangerously slow, and he keeps wracking his brain about what else he could possibly do. But there's nothing, only fate, only the gods. He sadly chuckles to himself at the thought of even trying to pray, knowing there's no higher power out there, at least one that cares about him.

"W... what are you... laughing at?"

You ask weakly, oblivious to the horrific stress he's been through. Astarion whips around quickly, wondering if perhaps he's imagining your voice. When he sees your eyes fluttering, lost somewhere between dreams and reality, he rushes to your side.

"Oh gods Tav... you- you really scared me there."

He tries to hold back tears, failing miserably. You try to speak again, but groan in pain as the feeling in your arm starts to come back.

"I know, I know it hurts. It's okay my darling, you'll be alright."

He begins fully sobbing, and you have no idea why, without being awake enough to comprehend the situation. Astarion always tries to be strong when you're weak, but watching you teeter on the line between life and death, it was simply too much to bear.

"You can't pull that shit, ever again my love, I'm so serious. I know I'm normally quite serious, but ever more so right now."

Then, a joyful, tiny laugh. Happiness. Happy that you're alive. The memories of the fight slowly start coming back, the beast that ripped up your arm, Astarion yelling.

"Aster...?"

"Yes my dear?"

You start to tear up a little, still a tad delirious.

"I'm sorry."

And then remembers as well, the things he said, the tone he spoke to you in.

"No, no my love I'm sorry. You weren't yourself, I was being entirely unreasonable. I just..."

He almost can't finish his sentence.

"I'm just happy you're okay. That's enough for me."

Your lover slowly and carefully lays down beside you, pulling you into him, being sure not to let your wounded arm drag on the ground. He holds you for a long time, until Shadowheart wakes at dawn, fully rested and ready to fix your wounds. Astarion vows silently that he'll never let it come that close, ever again.

[neverinadream]

I'm Made For You

Summary: If there's one thing Mason is certain of, its that Y/N was made for him.

Pairing: Mason Mount x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope

Song Inspo: Honey (Are You Coming?) - Måneskin

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut, dom!mason x sub!reader, dirty talk, pet names (baby, princess, good girl...) praise kink, a small daddy kink, elements of dd/lg, degradation kink, reader is called a whore, breeding kink, big on themes of ownership, body appreciation, nipple play, biting, scratching, slapping, anal play, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, unprotected sex, facial, cum play, cum eating, aftercare, not edited

Notes: me posting a mason smut just as @kepamount returns, seems like fate to me 🤭 once again, this man has got me writing filth, seriously, i need to study him to understand why he has me like this. anyway, couldn't think of summary so that's the best you're gonna get. feedback is always appreciated, so please give some, it really means a lot when you do 🫶🏻

"Look at that," Mason groans, watching his cock brush through her folds. Y/N continued to rock her hips, grinding her cunt softly over his cock, whimpering each time his tip pushed against her clit. "Fuckin�� pretty, baby," he grabs her hips, moulding his hands to their shape, "just sitting there between those pretty lips."

"Feels so good," she whimpers, rubbing the tip of his hard cock against her clit. The pleasure tingled through her body, a moan shuddering from her lips as her whole body shivered.

"You like that, princess?" He caresses her thigh, the tattoo, the head of a stag, its antlers intertwined with her birth flowers, gaining his attention. The ink on her body made her the world's rarest piece of art, and only Mason had the pleasure of viewing it. "Does it make you feel good?"

She nods. "Yes, daddy."

"And what do we say when daddy makes his little girl feel good?"

She grins, biting her lip. "Thank you, daddy."

She dips to kiss across his chest, going from one side to the next, each one soft, purposely teasing him. He waits, his body burning from the anticipation of her next move. A soft whimper rolls off his tongue when she flicks her tongue across his nipple, gnawing at his bottom lip to cage his reaction. When she lifts her hips, he takes a deep breath, just to release a sigh of frustration when he doesn't feel the familiar warmth of her sinking onto him.

"Fuck," he grits his teeth, hissing as she bites down on his nipple, "no more teasing - need to be inside you."

"Beg for it."

A low chuckle ripples through his chest. "I don't beg for anything, princess."

She squeaks, his hand tearing away from her hip to grab her by her chin, dragging her mouth down. He takes control of her in a messy clash of tongues and teeth. Spit drools down her chin when he pushes her away, his cock pulsating against her cunt as he takes in the messy display. Lips swollen. Expression ablaze with pleasure. Nipples perfect and pebbled, waiting for him to tug, twist, and sink his teeth into. And all his.

"Gonna give me what I want?" He asks, running his thumb over her bottom lip, taking her mouth as she parts her lips on a moan. "Or do I need to take it?" He presses the calloused pad flat against her tongue, pushing his thumb back until he starts to feel some resistance. The intrusion makes her gag, but he keeps going, keeps pushing until her nails her digging into his chest, telling him to stop. "That all you can take?" He mocks her with a pout. "Maybe daddy's little girl needs a bit more training?"

She shakes her head. "I'll be a good girl."

"Go on then," he encourages, tipping his head back on a groan, Y/N notching the head of his cock, swollen red with a buildup of pre-cum, against her entrance. He grips her hips tighter, taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with the air she steals as she sinks onto him. "That's it," he grunts, watching the first few inches disappear, "just taking it all like a good girl. Fuck-! That's so fucking hot!"

"Feels so good," Y/N whimpers, lifting her hips and sinking slowly back down, feeling her body stretch as she takes another inch. She keeps going, lifting her hips and sinking back down, taking him inch by inch, until she bottoms out. The feeling of fullness has her looking down at the point where their bodies were joined together. "I was made for you," she says, goosebumps rising on her skin as she feels him throbbing inside her, "made to take you, made to please you. I'm no one else's. Only yours."

"Only yours," Mason repeats, soaking in the warmth and the wetness of her cunt.

She dips, hands caressing his chest, her mouth slotting against his, moaning into his mouth as she rocks her hips back and forth, fucking herself the full length of his shaft. He bites her bottom lip, both of them sharing a grin as the metallic taste of blood burns on their tongues. He pulls away first, aligning his first and middle fingers with her mouth.

"Suck 'em," he orders, panting, his chest rising and falling on a deep breath as she takes the full length of his fingers into her mouth, "get 'em nice and wet for me."

She bobs her head, swirling her tongue around the digits, moaning at the traces of herself she can taste on his fingers.

"That's it," he groans, prying his fingers from her mouth, a string of spit still connecting the two. She quickly wipes it away.

His hand touches her ass, grazing softly over the soft globe of skin, and between her crack. The tip of his finger rubs around the puckered rim, inviting and teasing him to touch. Y/N draws in a sharp breath as he pushes against the tight muscle, whimpering as she grabs his shoulder and rocks back onto him.

"Doing such a good job f'me," he coos, sinking his finger inside. His tongue rests against his bottom lip as he parts his mouth, watching in awe as her face twists with pleasure. "Nice deep breaths," he encourages, withdrawing his finger and pushing deeper in, "that's it."

"So good," Y/N moans, tipping her head back, "and so deep, and so-" She yelps, his teeth pinched around her nipple, tugging at the sensitive bud.

Her hand leaves his shoulder and fists her fingers deep into his hair, caging his head against her chest, pressing her breast to his mouth. "Yes-! Just like that!" She grinds her hips, squeezing her eyes shut as a new wave of arousal gushes onto his cock. "Don't stop, please, don't stop!"

He flicks his tongue back and forth over her nipple, working in tandem with the finger pumping in and out of her ass. A groan sounds as she tugs on his hair, the sharp temporary pain trailing down to his cock.

"Close, baby?" He pulls off her nipple with a loud pop. "Gonna come for me?" He withdraws his finger, ignoring how she whines at the emptiness and caresses his hands over her hips; soft, beautiful skin moulding under his calloused hands. "Lean back for me," he instructs, "I want to watch my pretty girl's face as she comes."

Beads of sweat stick to her skin, slowly trickling down to the base of her neck, from where her hand travels down to her breast. Her fingers pinch and tug on her nipples, the corners of her mouth twisting upwards as the little act has her cunt clenching. He watches her do the same with the other, watching her lips part on a silent moan. The slit between the seam was small, but he knew there would be just enough space for him to slip his tongue into her mouth, to taste every bit of her.

Mason grunts, his cock twitching as she tightens around him. He knew her body, knew when she was about or close to coming. "That's it," he mumbles, hardening his grip, "chase it, baby!"

"Need it so badly," she sobs, pressing her hand back into Mason's thigh. He hisses, her nails stabbing into his skin. "So good!" Her head tips back on another sob, tits bouncing, and hips grinding faster as she feels her orgasm buildup in the pit of her stomach. "There-!" She squeals, grabbing his other thigh with her other hand. "Fuck-! I'm gonna come!"

"Yeah?" He gives her tit a soft slap, enjoying the way it bounces back to him. He does it again, and then again, each slap a little bit harder than the last. Every slap makes her whine and every slap pushes her closer to the edge. "Gonna come all over daddy's cock?"

She bites her lip and nods her head. "Daddy's cock feels so good!"

"You're dripping all over me," he groans, the base of his shaft glistening every time it withdraws from between the walls of her cunt, "so fucking wet and warm! Just perfect for me to breed." Her eyes light up and a chuckle rolls off his tongue. "You'd like, wouldn't you?" He gives her tit another slap, the sound echoing through the room. "Answer me!"

"Yes!" She's panting now, forcing the words out of her mouth as she forces the air back into her lungs.

"You need it, don't you, princess?" He thrusts up, the tip brushing repeatedly against the spot that has her thighs clamping and her walls clenching. "To be treated like a whore, to have your pussy bred, and to be reminded of who owns you?"

"I-"

"Shush," he interrupts her, "I already know the answer is yes."

He sits up, wrapping his arm around her waist, pressing her firmly against his chest. Dipping his head, he licks the sweat off her neck, moaning as the salty taste bursts on his tongue. Every inch of her tasted like heaven. His mouth trails up the column of her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses and sucking on her skin, all to tease out broken cries and ragged breaths.

She moans, feeling his hand come between their bodies to squeeze her sore breast. His thumb rolled over her nipple and caressed the underside, groaning at her softness.

"Please," she begs, the ache in her stomach becoming unbearable to last any longer.

"Come for me."

He wrapped her legs around his waist, binding the two together until there was no space or room left between them. Not even the air could fight its way between them.

"Do it," he encourages, his nose pressing into her cheek, the scent of sex, honey and vanilla on her skin. He rocks up into her, hands splayed across her back to keep her from squirming off his lap. "That's it, there you go," he coos, bucking his hips harder, his balls knocking against her bum, "my little girl's taking daddy's cock so well for me." She whimpers at the words leaving his mouth. "C'mon, cutie, just let out," he squished his hand between their bodies, rubbing her clit in hard circles, "gush all over this cock."

It's the last thing she needs to hurtle over the ledge.

The world around her had disappeared, it was just her and the body she was desperately clinging to as pleasure rocketed through her. She dug her nails into his back, scratching down, not hearing Mason hissing in her ear as she pierced the skin. She did feel the way his body throbbed for her, the momentary pain shooting straight to his cock. He could've blown right there and then, but he wasn't done with her yet.

She goes limp, lazily kissing the crook of his neck, nuzzling her face against him. "Wanna suck my cum off your cock, daddy," she whimpers, grinding her hips in slow circles, relishing the last of her high.

He gives her ass a soft slap as she climbs off, crawling to lie down. "Look at you," he grins. admiring her for her eagerness, "don't even need to tell you what to do anymore."

She matches his grin, listening to his feet pad heavily against the bedroom carpet as she waits with her head hanging over the edge. A second later, he comes into line with her vision, his eyes fixed on her, and his cock bobbing next to her head.

Bending down to kiss her, Mason pulls hard on her hair, stuffing his tongue inside her mouth as she gasps. There's nothing sweet or caring about it - just another way of claiming her.

Pulling away, he turns his attention to his cock, wrapping his hand around the base and stroking it a couple of times. A groan rattles around in the back of his throat as he squeezes his fingers tightly around the head with every upstroke, and he has to froce himself into slowing down.

"Open up," he murmurs, tapping the tip against her cheek. She does as she's told and he slides the smooth length of his cock between her lips. "Fuck, baby!" His eyes flutter shut, head tipping back on a silent groan. The angle wasn't new to either of them, but it still amazed him how far he could push back. "Just-Just take it, baby," he grunts, setting a steady rhythm, "take all of it."

She moans around him, eyes straining to look up at him, finding his jaw fixed with tension as he concentrated on fucking her mouth.

"Play with your tits," he mumbles, reaching over to slap her left breast, "give me something to look at." She replaces his hand, tweaking and pulling on her nipples, or pushing them together. "So fucking pretty," he praises, switching to slow thrusts, watching himself bulge inside her throat, "it's like you were born to suck cock."

She hums around him, squeezing her thighs together, feeling her wetness running down them.

"Who does this throat belong to?" He asks, his hand framing the side of her face, holding her mouth in place.

"You, daddy," she mumbles around him.

"And these tits?"

"You, daddy."

"And this pussy - open your legs - whose pussy does this belong to, Y/N?"

"It's yours," she mumbles once again, gagging on his length as he pushes further, "it's all yours."

"That's right," he speaks in a low voice, so low that Y/N almost misses it.

She whimpers as he withdraws from her body, leaving a faint taste of herself behind on her tongue. "Mase-"

"Stay like that, princess." He uses her spit as a lubricant, quickly jerking his hand up and down his cock, it throbbing in his hand as he feels his balls tighten. "Daddy wants to come all over that pretty face."

"Please," she begs, trailing her hand down her belly to play with clit, "please, come all over my face!"

The corners of his lips curve into a half-smile, his nose scrunching as he finally does. "There-!" He jerks his wrist faster, shooting drops of cum onto her mouth and chin. "Take it," he grunts, his thighs and bum both clenching, his hips rutting into his hand, "it's all for you!"

His movements slow down, fingers squeezing around the tip, as the last drops spill out onto his hand.

"Let me look at you," he says a second later, beckoning her up onto her knees.

Her eyes were beginning to look tired, her lips swollen, and the skin around her neck blotchy with hickeys. Parts of himself were there running into her mouth and dripping off her chin.

"My best yet," he mumbles, moulding his hands around her face, dropping to kiss her mouth. He moans, tasting himself on her lips and herself on her tongue. "Wait here," he pulls away, "I'll go get a cloth."

She flops back onto the bed, the ghost of a smile creeping its way onto her lips. She can hear the light switch in the bathroom being flicked on and the sound of the tap running before both are quickly turned off. The bed dips as Mason returns, running the warm cloth up and over her legs, and gently between her thighs.

"You did so good for me tonight," he whispers, dipping to kiss her belly. She shivers, trailing her fingers through the back of his hair. He keeps kissing up her body, cheekily flicking his tongue over her nipple, before stopping at her neck. "It wasn't too much, was it?" He asks, wiping the cloth against her cheek. "I didn't hurt you, or anything?"

She rolls onto her side, half straddling his thigh as he tosses the cloth and lies down. "No, Mason, you didn't hurt me," she shakes her head, caressing her hand over his chest. Her hand comes down to his Champion's League tattoo, tracing the bend of the dragon. "I think you love me too much to hurt me."

"I do," he agrees, circling his arm around her waist, "I love you so much, Y/N. Never forget that."

———————

Football Taglist: @shanoontje @maseandkepa @theblxefox @blueathens  @ofxinnocence @mrschilly @geek-and-proud @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @bracedes @chilwellspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @landoslover @kathb59 @emcv1427 @afterpills @pulisicsgirl @ricciardhoe3

[psychwxrdd]

drug dealer! soft! rafe being a love sick puppy

🎀 author's note: buzzcut rafe is my favorite rafe omg 😫 yk that one song "i'm a gangster's wife to an anybody killer" i had that lyrics on my head all day and it got me inspired lol and as much as i love dark/horror themes i love soooo much soft and sweet! rafe. yeah a canon of him being a drug dealer but he still is my little princess

(not mine gif)

also besties send me requests! i'm in the mood to write today

warnings: fluff, sexual mentions in the end but no actual smut

drug dealer! rafe instantly became infatued with you, the second he first saw you. he just knew he had to have you (please i can't help but imagine him staring like that one crazy stare he does in s2 when he's with barry and hears kiara in the drain lol)

drug dealer! rafe absolutely fucking worships you. like i MEAN it. he's selling his thing and worried about his busy and can't stop thinking about you, constantly texting you under the table. he has sooooo many pictures of you, not just on his phone but in his wallet as well, it's almost compulsive: he wants needs to stare at it all the time, and everyone always mocks him for this. he doesn't care about how crazy or corny they think he is or shit, thats his girl, the love of his life, his future wife and mother of his children. he would go to hell for you.

drug dealer! rafe who spoils the shit out you, if you said you wanted a big house like this or that, in color x or y, he would buy it entirely for you, the exact way you wanted. needless to say, he would buy anything you saw in a store that had your eyes shining, no matter what it is, if it would make you happy he wouldn't think twice. also, he is obsessed with the cute things you like 🥺 like imagine him buying a sylvanian family for you, or those sanrio plushies.

drug dealer! rafe who has you on his lap at any single party him and barry goes to, he doesn't let go of you for nothing. one say overprotective other say clingy, whatever it is, he always wants you on his arms. need to go to bathroom? he is waiting on the door. need a drink? he tells barry to got get it for you both (LMAO). you're tired or sleepy? he carries you around like a bride.

drug! dealer rafe taking you home and can't stop smiling staring at you sleeping, admiring your beauty and feeling his heart race from how much he loves you, how happy it feels to have you. he puts a song you like on the radio even tho it wasn't his taste or you weren't awake to hear it. you'd wake up and he'd be caressing your hair, the minute he he saw your eyes opening he said "shh, go back to sleep princess, it's late" and you were too sleepy to answer anything. he caressed your forehead, cheeks, nose, ears. he loved to put his fingers on your dots too, you had some small ones you didn't even noticed you have, but he did.

drug dealer! rafe already has a ring on his pocket just waiting for the perfect moment to ask you to marry him. you're the only person who ever gets to see this side of him, so he would probably get emotional while doing it.

drug dealer! rafe who have a MASSIVE breeding kink, but mostly because he really dreamed of having a family with you. not just because it felt good to cum inside you and it was hot, but because he really felt something he couldn't describe at the thought of you also wanting him to be the dad of your children, to have a family with him. it made his heart euphoric, it got him acting dumb. it meant you also wanted to spend your life with him, that was his biggest turned on.

[theostrophywife]

Can I get a FIC abt the reader being Theodore’s gf and best friend and she’s embarrassed and alone in her dorm bc of cramps and they are REALLY REALLY bad and he just comforts her and they snuggle and he gives her his hoodie and fluffy!! (I’m dying from my cramps in my bed rn 🙏 I need comfort from my book bf)

heart shaped bruises.

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: toothpaste kisses by the maccabees.

author's note: i'm so sorry you're in pain, love. hope this makes you feel better 💗

Bloody fucking hell. 

You clutched your stomach, doubling over in pain as another wave of cramps crashed into you at full force. An anti period pain potion. That would be your first invention after finishing your education at Hogwarts. For now, you were forced to endure the pain and misery sans magic. 

The clock on your nightstand rang obnoxiously, rattling the various barrettes and books stacked atop the table. The alarm meant that Charms would be starting soon. With a rather hard smack, you silenced the clock and buried yourself underneath the covers. 

There was no way in hell that you were going to make it to class today.

You couldn’t even get out of bed, let alone walk to the other side of the castle. No, you were staying right here. Cocooned in the safety of your blankets so you could wallow in self pity in peace. 

Apparently, suffering in silence was too much to ask for because the minute the alarm finally stopped, there was a knock on your door. 

“Go away,” you yelled, the words slightly muffled by your goose down comforter. 

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called from the other side of the door. “Are you alright, love?”

Tears pricked the back of your eyes. No, you were definitely not alright. Your uterus was an active war zone, your emotions were a poorly assembled rollercoaster in an abandoned theme park, and to top it all off, you had a raging headache like someone had taken a bludger to your skull. 

But you couldn’t say all of that. You didn’t want to freak your boyfriend out. 

“I’m fine, Theo. Just feeling under the weather.” You clamped your eyes shut, trying to block out the migraine. “Go to class without me.”

There was shuffling from the hallway before your door swung open, revealing a very concerned Theo. He took in the sight of you in bed, your cheeks flushed and your eyes red from crying all morning. Theo was by your side in three strides. 

“What’s wrong, dolcezza?”

“Nothing, I’m just not feeling well.” A fresh set of cramps chose that exact moment to pummel your lower abdomen, making you wince in pain. 

“That’s not nothing, darling.” He knelt beside you, taking your hand. “Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N. I hate seeing you in pain.”

Your eyes watered again. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Of course not, love.”

“It’s these cramps,” you said slowly, shifting to face him. “I’m on my period and it’s just really bad today. Usually I take a pain relieving potion, but even that’s not working this time around.”

Theo’s face softened. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You averted his gaze, flushing. “I guess I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“It is a big deal,” said Theo. “Everything that has to do with you is a big deal to me. I hate thinking that you’ve been suffering through this all alone.”

“I just didn’t want to bother you with something so silly.”

“You could never bother me, Y/N.” Theo gently pulled back the covers. “If anything I’m the one bothering you right now. Scoot over, darling. Make room for your Teddy.”

“But you’ll miss Charms.”

“I’ve skipped for less. This time it’s actually important. You need me. I’m not leaving you.”

You smiled softly and made room for Theo. He instantly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a snuggle. The familiar scent of sea salt and smoke felt like a warm hug in itself. Theo stroked your hair and kissed your temple. 

The cold air seeped in through your frosted glass windows, chilling you to the core. As much as you loved the ominous charm of living in the dungeons, this was one of its disadvantages. You shivered in Theo’s arms, cuddling closer for warmth. 

Your boyfriend radiated heat. You had no idea how when it was near freezing in your dorm. Theo liked to say he was hot blooded. You were just grateful to have your own personal heater. 

“Are you cold, darling?” 

You nodded, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “A little.”

Theo shifted beside you. He tugged at the hem of his hoodie and pulled it off in one swift move. “Arms up, love.”

You sat upright and did what you were told. Theo slipped his hoodie over you, smiling as the plush fabric swallowed you whole. It was warm and smelled like him. You wanted to drown in it. 

He kissed the tip of your nose. “It looks good on you, but don’t think that it gets you out of cuddling.” 

Theo pulled you to him, snuggling you from behind. He twined your legs together, making you giggle as his leg hair tickled the back of your thighs. You intertwined your fingers and kissed the back of his palm. 

The cramps may still be wreaking havoc on your body, but at least now you had Theo to comfort you. 

“How are you feeling, babe?” 

You turned, smiling. “Better now that you’re here, Teddy.”

Theo grinned and pressed a gentle kiss against your lips. “Get some rest, love. I’m not going anywhere.”