#all for my comfort? my ease of life should not be at the expense of millions of other peoples lives and that’s not insane to say actually

[cvctuslesbian]

my mom tried to call me an idiot today because i said that i think the united states being built on the blood and subjugation of other people is bad

[lumiambrose]

LUMI LUMI LUMI LUMI LUUUUUMI

Would you please be so kind as to luminate my life with a one bed trope fic with isagi, my queen? 🧎🏻‍♀️

MAKE IT AS NSFW AS YOU WANT 😈

I can take him. (not in a fight though ;))

MIRA MIRA MIRA MIRA MIIIIIRAAAAA

your wish is my command ;)

pro!isagi x f!reader, one bed trope, reader is isagi’s first relationship, isagi and reader are 21+, nsfw under the cut, slight breeding kink if you squint hard enough

divider credits to @rookthornesartistry & thank you @strawchocoberry for proof-reading <3

isagi's nerves were shot. between the important match he had tomorrow and the idiotic hotel staff not being able to do their jobs, he was at a loss for words.

the two of you arrived at the hotel not long ago, baggage in tow, with reservations for the most exquisite five-star hotel isagi could book. this is supposed to be the perfect little trip for the two of you but of course, something had to go wrong.

that something being that despite having booked a room with two beds, you and isagi find yourselves in a deluxe suite, filled with luxurious amenities and only one bed. 

yes, isagi is your boyfriend and yes, he loves you, but you two have only been dating for three months. he thinks it's far too early to be making such bold moves, especially when he knows he struggles to control himself around you.

you on the other hand, oblivious to his current predicament, are having the time of your life. all the fancy little souvenirs from the hotel and expensive champagne leave you in absolute awe. you wonder how the hell you would ever make it up to your loving boyfriend for showering you in such luxury.

you currently find yourself sprawled on the king-sized bed that comes with your suite, engulfing your figure in the silk sheets and plush pillows as you take in the fresh smell of clean bedsheets.

as he glances at you, comfortable on the bed with that little smile that always makes his heart skip, he almost feels a sense of guilt. feeling bad for putting you in such an awkward situation, he decides he should somehow make it up to you.

"baby, um… i didn’t mean for the room to be like this…" he says, scratching the back of his head, the tips of his ears burning.

staring at him in confusion, you tilt your head to the side, waiting for an explanation.

“well… i initially reserved two beds for us. i didn’t want to force you into anything you felt uncomfortable with.” he confesses, looking at the ground, the window– anything but you.

realisation hits and you finally understand what isagi was referring to. you look up at him, letting out a loud giggle with a playful glint in your eyes. "i don’t see a problem."

he gulps, his mind a jumble of thoughts. sure, you are his girlfriend, but sleeping next to you? it’s a whole new level of intimacy. "n-no, of course not. i mean, it's fine, right? we're adults."

you bite your lip to keep from laughing more at how flustered he was. "definitely adults," you tease, patting the empty space beside you.

isagi shuffles over, sitting on the edge of the bed like it might bite him. "i just... don't want to make you uncomfortable," he mumbles, his eyes darting everywhere but at you.

"yoichi," you call softly, reaching out to touch his hand, "i'm not uncomfortable, silly. why else would i come with you on this trip?."

easing isagi’s mind, the conversation slowly drifts away as the two of you bask in each other's presence. after ordering dinner, unpacking and showering you both prepare to call it a night.

isagi lies beside you in bed. the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the room. he can feel the warmth of your body next to his, your arm lightly brushing against his as you both settle under the covers. his heart is racing faster than it ever has before, with every tiny touch or brush against you setting his entire body ablaze.

“you know, you’re so cute when you’re nervous,” you tease lightly, turning on your side to face him. your playful tone easing the tension in the air, and he feels a small smile tug at his lips.

“i’m not nervous,” he lies, his voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing. he can feel heat creeping up his neck, and the way your eyes sparkle with amusement isn’t helping his case.

reaching out to lightly trace your finger down his muscular arm you giggle. “really? because you’re blushing, yoichi.” your touch sends a shiver down his spine and he swallows hard. he’s really trying his best to focus on anything but how close you are and how his blood is rushing to everywhere it shouldn't be.

his nervousness finally giving way to something else, he turns to face you and meet your gaze. “it’s just… this is different. i’ve never really… you know, shared a bed with someone like this before.”

“well, there’s a first time for everything,” you murmur, your voice dropping to a more sultry tone. “besides, it’s just sleeping, right? or…” you let the question hang in the air, your eyes locking onto his.

the implication makes his breath hitch and heart thud. there’s something in your eyes, something that makes his pulse quicken and his resolve falter. the playfulness in your gaze has shifted to something deeper, something that made his previous nerves fade into the background.

he swallows, feeling a surge of confidence he didn’t know he had in him. “or… we could make the most of this.” his voice low and steady as he leans in closer to you, whispering such a lewd line, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

your breath catches as his lips hover just above yours, his eyes flicking down to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. “yoichi…” you whisper, the anticipation thick in the air between you.

and that’s all it took. no further encouragement needed as isagi closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that is soft at first, almost hesitant, but quickly deepens as the tension that has been building all night finally snaps. his hand slides down to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss grows more urgent, more desperate.

when you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other's as you try to catch your breath. isagi’s hand lingers on your hip, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin.

"maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all," he murmurs, a playful smile on his lips.

you grin while your fingers brush through his hair. “told you so,” you whisper back, before pulling him in for another kiss, one that told him that this night was far from over.

his breath quickens at the feeling of your body pressed up against his, pulling you onto his lap so that you are lying on top of him. he can feel the heat radiating between you leaving his usually overthinking mind now blissfully blank.

pulling you closer, you’re now the only thing on his mind. the need to feel you, to be with you, overtaking any previous hesitations he held onto.

your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging slightly, as he groans into the kiss, his hips pressing against yours. "shit, you... don’t want you seeing me like this," he mumbles against your lips, his thoughts a mix of shame and desire.

"seeing what?" you breath, your hands sliding under his shirt, feeling the taut muscles of his back.

"how much i... want you," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper, his face buried in the crook of your neck, trying to hide the blush that spread across his cheeks.

you smile, guiding his hand to your thigh, letting him feel the warmth of your skin, the softness that made his heart race. "i think it's pretty clear how much you want me, yoichi," you tease, hinting towards the growing pain in his sweatpants.

he groaned again, a mix of frustration and yearning. "you're my girlfriend... this should be normal, right? but it feels... different. more intense."

"because it is," you murmur, shifting so you were straddling him, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms. "i feel the same way."

he looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, his hands gripping your hips, grounding himself in your presence. "i, just... let me make you feel good. please, baby?," he’s basically begging, his voice needy for your presence.

you didn’t need to confirm your lust for him yet you still let out the slightest whisper. "i’m yours," as you lean down to kiss him again, giving him all the confirmation he needs, your bodies pressing closer, the heat between you becoming almost unbearable.

isagi's hands roam your back, slipping under your shirt, exploring every inch of your skin, as if trying to memorise the way you felt. "i don't... i don't want to hold back anymore," he confesses, his voice strained with the effort of controlling himself.

"then don't," you encourage, your lips brushing against his ear, your breath hot and teasing.

that was all the permission he needed. with a low growl, isagi flips you onto your back, his lips crashing against yours with a fervour that surprised even him. his hands are everywhere, pulling at your clothes, desperate to feel more of you, to lose himself in the sensation of your skin against his.

you moan into his mouth, your hands equally frantic, pulling at his shirt, his pants, anything that keet you from feeling all of him. "yoichi," you gasp, arching into his touch, needing more, needing everything he has to give.

"is this... is this okay?" he asks, his voice laced with both uncertainty and desire, his hands pausing before they reached your tits to look at you, making sure that you’re ok with his movements.

"yes," you breath, your hands cupping his face, pulling him down for another kiss, your body arching against his seeking friction, the connection that was so close, yet still just out of reach.

isagi lets out a shaky breath, his control slipping as he loses himself in the feeling of you beneath him. cupping and playing with your plush tits, he made you elicit soft moans. the way you respond to his touch, everything driving him to the edge of reason. he couldn't think anymore, nor did he particularly want to, only wanted to feel you and pleasure you, to finally give in to the desire that had been building for so long.

not wanting to waste anymore time, isagi relieves you of your pyjamas as you help undress him. once you were both in nothing but you underwear, isagi positions you against the headboard, slotting himself in between your open legs, leaving your bare body open for his display.

one hand grasps onto your thigh while the other hand makes its way to your chest. he cups your, now bare, chest, letting his thumb tease your nipple in a circular motion. relishing in your sweet noises and cute expressions, he leans closer to take a mouthful of your tit. his mouth is hot and damp against the flesh, sucking and nibbling on it, making the most lewd sounds for your ears only.

moving the hand that was groping your thigh up to your other tit, he plays with both of them using his fingers and tongue with the sole purpose of pleasing you, drawing out needy whines.

while deeply enjoying the pleasure brought to you by your sweet boyfriend, you want-, no, need more. a soft moan escapes your lips and you take the moment to babble incoherent words of “needing more”.

obliging to your wishes, he kisses his way up to your collarbone and neck. he leans in to nibble on your tender flesh, sucking and kissing the surface of your skin, leaving purple marks in his remains. 

“tell me what you want.” he murmurs into your ear, voice barely above a whisper.

“you yoichi, want you…” you barely manage out as you paled his aching cock through his boxers.

something inside of him snaps in that moment as he pulls you down to lie underneath him. letting his body tower over yours.

at this point isagi is fueled purely by desperate, awestruck hunger as removes his boxers and aligns his cock with your folds. “can i?” his voice needy as he barely manages to hiss the words out. 

you couldn’t take it anymore as you give him an almost too eager nod, trying to grind yourself into him. and when he finally, finally enters you, he reaches for your lips to muffle the loud screams that leave your mouth. as he finally bottoms out inside you, you’re both left whining, panting messes, breathing into each other's mouths.

your tight pussy greedily sucks him in as you take him inch for inch. adjusting to the size was not easy, but something you had to manage to make this last. all the pent up pleasure that’s been building up can finally have its release.

he starts moving inside of you, albeit slowly, every move and sensation is sending shivers down your spine and heat to your core. isagi thrusts deeper into you, bodies slapping together, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoes in your suite. your eyes roll back into your head, the pleasure overwhelming as you cling to isagi for dear life, nails digging into his back leaving marks that certainly won’t be gone by morning.

isagi’s pace begins to pick up, the rhythmic slaps of bodies getting louder. his breath coming in pants he lets out a soft whisper, “fuck-, feel good princess?” wanting your reassurance. as cockdrunk as you are, you manage to let out a quick nod babbling praises into the air between you two. “mhm, isagi! feels good- you feel too good. ahh~ too much!”

isagi only quickens his pace from your words, feeling himself twitch inside of you, his thrusts only become more erratic, the animalistic need to fill you up taking over. as your walls clench around isagi, he feels his orgasm building, he knows he won't last much longer with you like this underneath him.

each thrust sends a shock wave of pleasure through you, your body rocking to meet his. the scent of sex fills the room, the air thick with the heady fragrance. isagi's breaths come ragged, his need growing unbearable. he can't resist the urge to whisper into your ear, "you're so tight, so perfect for me."

isagi leans down, kissing your neck, his tongue trailing down your skin. the sensation sends a jolt through your body, “princess- where should i-” you interrupted him before he was even able to finish his sentence. “inside yoichi, please.” his hips buck as his hot cum fills you, spilling out from between your legs.

but it’s not over yet, no. you haven’t came yet, despite the slight embarrassment he doesn’t let that stop him. hands gliding down to your abdomen where he puts his thumb on your clit, only adding to the overwhelming pleasure.

you cling onto isagi for dear life as the wave of your own orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing. the hotel room now filled with nothing but the scent of sex, the air thick with the aftermath of your passion. catching your breaths, isagi collapses next to you, your bodies slick with sweat. despite you a panting mess and catching your breath, you look over to see your boyfriend who looks nothing short of perfect, not even looking one bit tired. a smile spreads on your face as you lightheartedly joke between deep breaths, “you don’t look tired at all, almost like you could go for another round.”

he turns over to look at you, locking eyes with you before smirking. “actually princess, that doesn’t sound like such a bad idea…”

it’s safe to say that despite the lack of sleep, isagi has never played better, leading his team to an easy victory and giving him a new pre-game ritual

don’t worry, sleep is for the weak ;)

an:

oh my god. i finally get to upload this and i'm so happy! i spent so long writing this and sacrificed way to many braincells learning how to write a full fucking fic (2.6k words wtf).

+ posting this got delayed for so long cause i wanted mira to be online when she received her req, hope you enjoyed it bbg <3

bonus:

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Testing One, Two, Three (S.R. Smut +18)

Summary: (Spencer Reid x Fem Reader) Spencer comes home, after a long week of being away, with a bag full of (sexy) surprises.

Content Warnings: Sex toy use, praise kink, dirty talk, mutual self pleasure, coming undone, overstimulation, very light submissive (Reader) dominant (Spencer) dynamics, talk of anal sex & pegging

Word Count: 3.3K

Note: This is one that I have had saved in my drafts for a very long time! And I just had the inspiration to finish it a couple days ago.

Testing One, Two, Three

It wasn’t strange for Spencer to make trips to the grocery store, to the used bookstore, or the pharmacy before making his way back to Y/N’s storybook Tudor home after work.

This evening proved to be not unlike the others. Spencer, driving his powder blue Volvo pulls into Y/N’s driveway. She watches from the windows as he takes out his satchel, his overnight bag, and other large black shopping bags. It didn’t look like it was from the grocery store and their local bookstore didn’t give customers plastic bags. Curious, Y/N unlocks the door for Spencer, deciding to meet him at her front stoop instead of in the kitchen or the hallway like normal.

“Hey there, love,” Spencer says, the nickname brushing off his lips with ease. He looks tired and worn down. Y/N thinks that traveling through two different time zones and not getting enough sleep is a way to do that to a person, but she decides she’ll keep that to herself and just usher Spencer to bed earlier tonight.

“Oh, Spence. I really missed you,” she confesses, breathing in his familiar scent. It's a little different. He smells like cheap hotel shampoo and stale coffee, not like his usual minty and green tea body wash and expensive coffee beans. 

Spencer sighs into her neck, swaying slightly as he holds Y/N in his arms on her front stoop. His bags, even the mysterious black on, lay neglected on the ground by their feet.

“I know, Y/N. I know, sweetheart,” he reassures, rubbing his hand up and down her back in a comforting gesture. “I got you something. Well, really it’s for us. But for you, mostly I suppose,” 

“You’re acting clingy and squirrely,” she assesses, leaning back to look at Spencer’s unreadable face. He simply shrugs, as if to say you’ll find out when you find out. 

“I need caffeine,” Spencer remarks, as he insists on carrying all the bags into the house by himself, “And something comfy to wear. I’ve been in this shirt for the last two days. There was a break in the case 41 hours in and we couldn’t break for the hotel. It was too out of the way,” 

“Oh my poor boy,” Y/N exclaims, helping Spencer shed his cardigan and standing with him as he takes his shoes off, “What about a nice hot shower and then some leftovers. I made chickpea curry last night. We have leftover rice and garlic naan, too,” she offers. 

Spencer, offering his thanks, grabs at his tie. His shoulders tense with exhaustion and something unreadable. He’s not usually mysterious. Usually, Spencer’s nothing but an open book. 

“You alright?” Y/N asks, doling out the portion of chickpeas and rice on the delicately decorated plates she received for her 25th birthday. 

“Fine,” Spencer says, clipped and detached. 

So unlike him. 

“Hmm. Well how was work? Anything interesting happen?” Y/N asks, attempting to spark conversation with her boyfriend. They’ve only been dating for a solid five months; enough time for whatever it was to have run its course. If Y/N didn’t know any better than she should expect herself to be circling the drain tonight along with dishes that would certainly be neglected for a pint of Java Chip. 

“Fine,” Spencer says, nodding thanks for the plate of food. He shovels in a couple bites, seemingly uninterested in continuing the conversation. 

So unlike him. 

Usually, Spencer would be clamoring to talk to her. It wasn’t too long ago that they spent long nights sharing a bottle of red and talking about everything from books to movies to the meaning of life. 

“Alright, Spencer. Cut the crap. Are you breaking up with me? Because if you are–?” 

Shock washes over Spencer’s face. And he doesn’t wear it well. He does a spit take and it’s nearly as foolish as it looks like in movies. Spencer’s eyes grow about three sizes bigger. 

“What? Break up with you? God, no,” he stammers, the sentiment clear although his efforts lacked clarity. 

“Okay.” Y/N says, tossing Spencer a napkin to mop up his mess of curry and water. “Good to know. But why are you acting so….squirrely?” 

Shifting in his seat, Spencer attempts to remain calm. His eyes, a honey brown with a cool brown rim, flit to the mysterious bag he brought in from his car. It was as if she could hear the whirring of the gears clicking into place. She follows his gaze to the bag. 

“You bought something. Something that you’re either nervous about or embarrassed? So it can’t be books. And it’s not something innocuous like a throw blanket or pie dish. And judging by your breathing growing heavy, it’s something….salacious.” 

Spencer’s thin upper lip twitches with delight. He hums, neither confirming nor denying her claims. His eyes flicker with playfulness, a contrast to moments ago when Spencer’s eyes flooded with fear and shock.

“You’re smart.” Spencer concludes, smiling with knives. He stands to presumably grab the black bag that has caused so much intrigue. “Should have been a profiler with a mind like yours.” 

“I’ll stick to what I know.” Y/N tells him, her interest in the bag only growing 

when Spencer places it in front of her on the table. “Let me guess, we’re at the stage in our relationship where you can buy me sexy underwear without it looking like you’re sleaze,” 

Chortling, Spencer blushes profusely. His feeble attempts at hiding the bag's contents fail miserably as they only pique Y/N’s interest. His eyes are wide with wonder and anticipation in the kitchen light. 

“It’s not lingerie.” 

“Alright, well whatever it is, Spencer I’m sure I’ll love it. You’re being so jumpy, it’s making me think you’ve got some really kinky sex toy in here,” she says, reaching her hand into the bag to finally examine its contents. She’s good at reading faces. From the old man who reads French Literature on the Metro to the young barista at the local coffee shop, Y/N, like even Spencer admitted, is pretty well versed at reading people. Which is why, for a split second she reads pure terror in Spencer’s eyes. 

“Oh shit,” she says, turning the box in her hand and reading the label. “You bought me a wand?” Her voice goes up an octave as if she’s just realizing what she’s holding in her hands. 

Spencer, now thoroughly, embarrassed, covers his face with his hand. His cheeks are tinged a lovely pink and he peeks through his fingers, apparently still eager. “Will you kill me if I say that’s not the only thing in there?” 

“Spencer Reid!” she shouts, slapping his hands on the table with glee and excitement. It was the very thought of Spencer Reid in a sex shop that sent both shivers down her spine, like an electric shock and shock waves of laughter through her system. “You went into a sex shop.” 

“Yes, Y/N,” Spencer contends, his tone playful enough, “But please continue your teasing. We’ll see how cocky you’ll be when you’re on the receiving end of 5000 RPMS. And that’s the lowest setting,” 

“Is that a threat?” Y/N asks, leaning in closer to Spencer. Her cleavage is eye level to Spencer’s line of vision. His eyes dart there to the bag and back to her eyes. 

He shakes his head. “A promise. Continue,” Spencer instructs, pointing towards the bag. She listens, fishing her hand in the large bag.

“That’s a clitoral stimulator.” Spencer explains, “The website I got recommendations from says that it simulates oral sex. It has eleven settings,” he continues, watching as Y/N’s eyes grow big at the thought of the toy in her hands. 

“Hmm, eleven?” she muses, putting it down next to the menacing looking hitachi wand.

“Another one? Spencer, how much money did you spend on toys?” she says aghast as she takes out yet another item from the bag. 

“It’s a Lush vibrator.” Spencer explains, waving off Y/N’s concerns for his wallet. “It’s actually connected to my phone. That means I can control it, even when we’re apart. Which, considering how much we’re apart, just might come in handy.” 

“This must have cost a lot of money.” Y/N speculates, staring at the three presents facing her on the countertop. “You really didn’t have to. You really shouldn’t–” 

“Y/N,” Spencer says, her name sounding deadly in his breathy timber, “It’s my job to make sure you’re satisfied. And I thought it would be a little fun to bring in some…reinforcements.” 

“That’s certainly more forward thinking than my last boyfriend. He was under the assumption that toys stole his thunder. But between you and me, and like every other woman he slept with, it’s probably because he hardly ever made me finish.” 

“Really?” Spencer says, looking shocked. “And he was still insecure about bringing toys into the bedroom?” 

Laughing, Y/N tosses her head back in a chortle. There was something endearing about Spencer’s genuine shock. 

 Spencer, looking half bemused and half proud, shifts in his seat. “So are we going to test them out or what?” 

Twenty minutes later, they were both in her bed. Y/N, on her back, with her feet planted firmly on the bed, watches as Spencer studies her carefully. Sweat pools in her cleavage and she grabs the sheets, needing something to grip as yet another wave of pleasure washes over her body. He had already coaxed an orgasm out of her with the clitoral stimulator. 

Spencer, fully dressed, holds the wand against her. He has a notebook to her left with small scribbles of notes detailing how fast she’s edged with each different toy. His scribbles, messy and disorganized at best, grow increasingly illegible. Spencer’s creases his brow, a sign of his intense determination, and is fuzzy as Y/N gazes down at him. She watches his look of stoic concentration, something that she finds entirely too attractive. But considering he plans on bringing her to climax time and time again tonight, she’ll give into her flights of fancy. 

“Think you like this one.” Spencer comments. He switches the wand to his less dominant, but still skillful hand to make notes on the pad. A self-satisfied smirk grows on his face, a sign that he’s enjoying this more than he’s letting on. 

“It’s really good.” she says, her voice betraying her already limited resolve. Spencer’s fingers lie casually on her thighs, searing marks into her legs that vaporize her skin. When he touches her it’s like her limb liquifies and her skin melts. She wants his fingerprints to sear into her skin, finally becoming part of her. 

“Yeah,” Spencer asks, a sarcastic smirk playing on the corner of his mouth, “Tell me more, sweetheart. Tell me how good it feels.” 

Spencer’s words are punctuated by the head of the toy rolling against her clit. He never keeps it in one place longer than a couple of seconds, either not wanting to overstimulate her too soon or to keep her on her toes longer for him. 

“It feels so…good. Better than it used to. Before I had you,” she stammers, the words clunky in her mouth as she concentrates on Spencer’s deft hand at her core and his warm lips against her neck. 

“That’s right, sweetheart. Before you had me to keep you nice and full, you had to use things like this. But I’m gone too often for you. I need to know my sweet girl is taken care of. So we’re going to test all of these toys out tonight. Till you’re drippy little mess, begging for me to finally fuck you.” 

Spencer’s sloppy kisses climb the slope of Y/N’s neck. He leaves whisper-wishes into the nooks of her skin, each one filled with promises and love. It’s a stark contrast; the sweet kisses to his hand that holds the vibrator: the bane of her undoing. 

“You know Hitachi wands are excellent for clitoral stimulation. This one has only one vibration pattern, but eight different speeds. Now that sounds like a challenge. And one that I’d like to break.” 

Y/N’s brow furrows as she gazes at Spencer with a deep concentration. He breathes against her neck, a trail full of wet kisses plotting their revenge against her sensitive skin. Spencer’s fingers hold the wand deftly as he concentrates the sensation against her clit. Y/N’s feet move up the bed, dragging the crocheted blanket with them. 

“Holy shit, Spence!” Y/N curses, her breath bated as the wand’s vibrations kick up a couple of levels. 

“That’s my girl. You like the fourth setting. Remember that, baby,” Spencer says, his lips curved into a proud smile as Y/N’s hips jut upwards in tandem with the toy, “Just like that, Y/N. I can tell you’re close. Give me another. One’s not enough for my greedy girl. And who am I to deny such a pretty face and a wet pussy. It’s all mine after all.” 

She feels the wand leave her clit and venture up to her stomach. Y/N’s muscles react like falling dominos at the sensation. She tenses as the vibrations shoot up and fry her nerves. Spencer licks his lips at the sight of her arousal sticking to her bare torso. He carefully dances the wand up to her nipples, watching with glee as they pebble even further in response to the vibrations. 

“One day I’ll give you an orgasm from just playing with these nipples. I’ll lick and kiss and suck on them till you’re dripping and begging for my cock to fill you up.” 

“Jesus, Spencer.” Y/N pants, her hips buckling as her climax reached its peak. “Can I come, please? Please let me come again? I need it so fucking bad, baby.” Her tongue peaks  out from her lips, wetting the surface as Spencer peered up at her. She grabs his collar to drag him up for a kiss just as she finally teetered off the edge, yet again. 

Spencer separates from the kiss, his lips puffy and red from Y/N’s frantic mouth. He smiles, gently caressing her head in a gesture that was entirely too sweet for their current situation. She feels Spencer’s erection in his pants; it had to be almost painful by now. 

“What was that two or three?” Y/N asks, a self-satisfied smirk plaguing her face. “I think we might set a record or something.” 

“That was two.” Spencer corrects. He takes more notes in his little notebook. “Of at least four or five. Depending on how much you beg later.” He slips off the bed and fishes through the bag. “Now, I think I have an idea for which I’d like to try next.” 

A bright pink silicone dildo with a flared based, freshly washed, lays in between them on the bed. Y/N raises her eyes in surprise. 

“Most men wouldn’t be too thrilled to have something other than their penis fuck their girlfriends, you know.” 

Spencer shrugs. “Yeah, but there’s a lot that we can do with it.” He claims, “Like double penetration or even, uh,” He blushes and stumbles over his next comment, “And pegging.” 

Y/N grins as an overwhelming sense of arousal washed over her. “Oh,” she says, skimming her fingers around Spencer’s neck. His skin is ridiculously soft, “we are so tabling that one for later. I would love to see you a mess for me instead.” 

Spencer grins. “Fuck, that’s good, Y/N. So good.” He kissed her forehead. “I wanna watch you ride it. Like you would my cock.” 

Y/N nods, as Spencer shifts on the bed, allowing for her to assume a crouched position. She looks at Spencer, his eyes laden with lust and love. He sits, legs spread in an attempt to accommodate his hardened erection in the old arm chair. He looks too good to be true, his cheeks are tinged with a blush, the dances that line between innocence and corruption. His notebook is forgotten, as he needs the entirety of his attention focused on the sight before him. 

“Good girl.” Spencer mutters, his hands resting on his thighs, but they twitch restlessly. It was as if he needs to physically hold himself back from ravishing Y/N at the sight of her crouched on her bed ready to fuck herself with a dildo her purchased for her. “Lower yourself on the toy. Give yourself an inch into your sweet little cunt.” 

His voice is deep, yet soft as he guided her pleasure expertly. She groans as the toy breaches her cunt, the full sensation is welcomed after the last hour of the wand and clit stimulator. 

“Don’t you wish it was your cock fucking my cunt, Spencer?” Y/N asks, her right hand wrapped around the flared base of the toy and the other holding herself up. Her abdominal muscles stunned with strain as her body remained in a crouched position, but the promise of release goaded her on. “You’re so hard, baby. I can see it from here. Don’t you want to touch yourself?” 

Spencer bites his lip. He nods as his hands undo his belt and his hips lift up enough so he can shimmy his pants and underwear to his knees. He wraps a hand around his cock, hard and glistening with arousal, and rubs upward with a tight fist. Spencer’s teeth dig into his bottom lip as he continues to watch Y/N lower herself onto the toy. 

“Give yourself another inch, sweetheart.” Spencer instructs as he fucked his fist. He swipes his thumb over the tip of his cock. “Fuck I wish it was your mouth or your pussy on my dick.” 

“God, you have the prettiest cock.” Y/N pants, the toy filling her up more and more as she sinks lower onto the base. “But now that we have this toy, maybe you can fuck my ass? I know you’d like that, baby.” 

“Dirty girl,” Spencer praises, a smile covering his face as Y/N’s thighs quiver, “Tell me does that toy fill you up nicely? I had to pick out the best one for my girl.” 

“Yes, yes,” Y/N answers, her voice rough and raw, “So good….I feel so full.” The pink dildo filled her cunt. 

“Good. Good.” Spencer says, his hand moving up and down his cock at a hastened pace. “Show me how you’ll ride it when I’m not here to fuck you, baby. Show me how you’ll fuck that tight cunt.” 

Spencer’s words provide the encouragement for Y/N to hoist herself up and down on the dildo. She would've laid flat on her back, a position that would have been easier on her thighs and core, but the angle she’s  able to reach makes the suffering all worth it. 

“Fuck…so good, Spencer. But I don’t think I can come from just this…it’s not…it’s not enough for me.” Y/N explains. Spencer knows that. He understands the science behind the female orgasm enough to know that many women are unable to reach climax from vaginal penetration only.

“I know, sweet girl. Don’t you worry.” He promises. “Bring your fingers to your clit

and give yourself some nice tight circles.” 

She listens. Her fingers draw tight circles around her clit. Y/N bites her lip as she feels her pleasure build and build. “So good. So good.” 

“I know, I know. Grind against the heel of your hand. You go wild when I do that, love. Like a little fucking minx. You can’t get enough.” 

The tension builds in her stomach as she grinds against the heel of her hand. Cursing, Spencer watches with lust-laden eyes as Y/N writhes on the bed. Sweat forms against her brow as her feet dig into the mattress and her thighs burn in exhaustion. Until she finally feels that familiar burst of pleasure release. 

“Fuck, fuck,” She curses, so caught up in her own pleasure the room seemed to spin around her. “I–I…Spencer, I’m coming.” 

Her release washes over her as she slumps down into the bed, finally spent with all her energy expended. She can barely hear Spencer shuffle over, nearly tripping over his feet since his pants remained gathered around his ankles. 

“Holy shit.” Spencer curses. “That was the most sensual thing I’ve ever seen.” He looks at her with half awe and half love. He pulls his underwear back up and kicks his pants off as he sits on the bed. “Are you alright, babe?”

Y/N groans, her cunt is raw with overstimulation and it is like every single nerve in her body is lit on fire in the best way possible. She offers Spencer a weak thumbs up that morphed into an equally weak fist bump. He obliged and gave Y/N a sweet forehead kiss in return. 

“So toys are a plus for us,” Spencer muses. He adjusts the pillows on the bed and helps Y/N sit up in a more comfortable position. “Thank you for this. I really enjoyed it. And I’m, you know, glad you’ll be occupied when I’m gone.” 

Y/N’s face flushes as a warmth resembling love covers her entire being. “I should be the one thanking you,” she counters, “Wait…I didn’t get you off.” She says, sitting up and then failing as her tired body gave out. 

“That’s a problem you already took care of,” Spencer protests, gesturing to his stained underwear. “I had already come untouched by the time you told me to touch myself. You put on quite the show, sweetheart.” 

She raises her eyes in disbelief as Spencer chuckles and kisses her cheek. “I’m glad you found that equally pleasurable. I don't think I’ve ever come as hard as I just did. And I doubt it’ll ever happen again.” She rises from the bed, with the help of Spencer. He grabs her waist as they make their way into her bathroom.

“Is that a challenge?” Spencer says, with a cocky smirk

“Fuck yeah it is,” Y/N said, “but I think I need like three weeks to recover.” 

Thank you for reading! Please remember, I appreciate you reading, reflagging, and commenting on all of my fics. I love your feedback and appreciate your support & community more than you'll ever know.

Tag List (I don't want to bother anyone, so just tagging people I mainly interact with)

@reidsbookclub @foxy-eva @reid-ingandweeping @boldlyvoid

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

You Should Come Thru (Hawks x Self-Insert!Reader 18+ One Shot) [COMMISSION FILL]

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” you awkwardly chuckle. “There must be truth serum in this tea or somethin’.”

“Actually, no, it’s weed.”

“….What?”

Fan Art by @almaadst ❤️❤️

Pairing: Keigo "Hawks" Takami x Black!Self-Insert!Reader

Synopsis: After a month of hard work, no play, and a bad date, Hawks invites you over to his apartment for some tea to relax and finally get some time with his bestie, but as the night grows long, you suddenly lose your filter and begin telling him things that he shouldn’t know. All because of his very special tea. 

Tags: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Friends to Lovers; Hurt/Comfort; Marijuana Consumption; Stripping; Mutual Oral; Mutual Masturbation; Body Worship; Voyeurism; High Sex; Dubcon (only because of the weed but there is verbal consent given); Facesitting; Riding; Mild Choking; Mirror Sex; Dom!Hawks/sub!Reader; Mild Namecalling; Wing Stroking; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Aftercare 

Writer's Note: Thank you again to @curiouscutie143 for trusting me with your fantasies & ideas enough to bring them to life! -Jazz

********

When you knock on his door that late night, Keigo already knows you are standing behind it. 

He smiles at seeing your face in the peephole and opens the door without a greeting. Seeing you there still in your work dress, shoes, and pantyhose from before, he leans against the door frame and smirks at you despite your tired expression. “Well, what a surprise,” he says, sarcasm evident. “I don’t suppose you’re selling something?” 

You hold your tote bag and a box from the restaurant you went to tonight in your hands. “If you think it’s a free dessert that the waitress gave me ‘cause she felt so bad for me, then yes, I do,” you glumly reply. “Can I come in?” 

Keigo’s smile grows as he runs a hand through his short-cropped, blonde hair. “Shit, you kiddin’ me?” he chuckles. “Nothing’s better than pity dessert. Come right in.” 

He opens the door wider, allowing you to walk inside the gorgeous, empty penthouse. Judging by Keigo’s attire of sweats, a white tee, and some slides, he was busy cleaning up for your arrival. The counters are clean, the pillows are fluffed and organized on the couch, and the TV is playing the newest episode of “Dinner In Dungeon” on Netflix. 

“Take off your shoes,” he says, shutting the door behind you. “You look like you need to.” 

You immediately do so, sitting down on the expensive couch in front of the TV to kick off the flats that you’ve been wearing all day at work. Keigo comes over to take the box of dessert from your dinner date, giving you a soothing smile as he does. 

“Thank you again for letting me come over, Kei,” you sigh, relieved to have your feet released from the traps of your shoes. “I’m sorry it’s so late.” He pulls a sour face at you. “Don’t apologize,” he says. “My crib, your crib. Besides, I invited you over here after work to chill, remember?” 

He turns to walk into his pristine, thousand-dollar kitchen with its granite counters, silver steel appliances, wine cooler, and personal mini-bar that has long since been used less since he eased up on his drinking. After Keigo got his burn scars from his fight with Dabi that almost claimed his life, he turned into a whole different person…for the better. 

He cropped his hair down to snip off the burned ends from the fire, bulked up a bit more so his muscles are more defined, and he stays out of the limelight more than he used to. Less clubs, fewer groupies, and less expensive shopping sprees. The burn scars on his cheek, neck, and back are testaments of the changes he’s gone through.

But he’s still the same man you’ve been friends with for years now. You first met him three years ago when he opened his account with your bank with you as his teller. Years later, you’re still his teller and your friendship is stronger than ever. You’d never do anything to change that…even though deep down, you secretly want to. 

“Well, that was to relax because you think I’m killing myself with work; not to trauma dump about my string of bad dates.” You kick your feet up on the couch, wriggling your painted toes. 

Keigo pauses in the kitchen and walks back over to the doorway, leaning his hip against it. His shirt rises up a bit to show off one of his burn scars and his toned lower stomach where you see a patch of blonde hair. You look away. “Oh,” he realizes. “Tonight wasn’t the one, huh?” 

You look back up at him, feeling your stress and the tension inside of you since your Uber ride here from your date melt away at the sight of his soft, almost somber expression. 

“Definitely not.” 

He comes over to you, holding your dessert on a plate with two forks for you both. Your waitress took it upon herself to personally give you a free chocolate mousse cake topped with whipped cream and peaches. She probably saw how unhappy you were on your Bumble date and did it as a way to make sure you didn’t stab yourself with a fork. 

“Well, you know what eases stress from work and makes you feel better after bad dates?” Keigo smirks down at you, his golden eyes tinkling. “Ugh, no weed, please,” you say in disgust. “And no alcohol. I had two glasses of wine at dinner.” Hawks shoots you a look. “Don’t worry, I took an Uber here.” 

“No, tea,” he finally answers, laughing lightly. “Not alcohol and of course not weed! I know you don’t smoke, silly girl…unless you do now.” He smirks at you. “Is work kicking your ass that bad?” 

You roll your eyes, taking a fork to get a piece of your dessert. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” you sigh. “Ever since I took that promotion, it’s like they’re running me ragged over there. The only good thing is that this pay leaves me with extra money after the bills and rent are paid.” 

You’ve had your job as a bank teller for over six years now and you take it very seriously…however, when you clock out, you don’t take calls or texts from work. Your time out of work is your own which you usually spend sleeping. Ever since you received your promotion several months ago because of your great work ethic, you haven’t spent much time doing much except working and sleeping. Which means your time with Keigo has taken the back burner. 

“Well, tell me all about it while I getcha a cup,” he says, taking a forkful of the cake before walking into the kitchen. “Take the load off and relax.” You hear him putz around in the kitchen, clinging this and clanking that, while you eat your dessert. It is rich and sweet with the peaches adding the right amount of juiciness and syrupy sweetness. 

“Don’t get me wrong, the job has great benefits, but…sometimes, I feel like I’m gonna disappear. I barely have time to hang out with you now.” You frown, thinking off all of those video game nights and days on the town that have vanished because of your exhaustion. When you come home from work, you immediately hit the hay like you haven’t slept in decades. 

And on the weekend, a time that is meant for freedom, you’re spending it in your apartment getting ready for work again! It’s exhausting! 

“Oh, I know,” Keigo calls. “That’s why I invited you over. What kind of tea ya want?” You lay back against the pillows, putting your hands on your plump stomach. “What do you got?” 

“Uhhh, Merlo, orange blossom, camomile, lemon mint, lavender—“ 

“Lemon mint, please,” you decide. “With honey and sugar.” Keigo’s fluttery laughter exits the kitchen as he fills a kettle of water and puts it on the stove. “V, we’ve been friends for years. I know how you take your tea after making it for you for so long. Keep talking.” 

You smile, glad to have someone who knows you so well. You groan, your feet flopping against the couch tiresomely. “I'm just so tired all of the time now. I don’t even look forward to my days off because all I do is sleep!” 

After a few minutes of the tea kettle whistling and more putting around in the kitchen, Keigo exits the kitchen with a tray of two tea cups, organized tea bags, and the cutest little pots of sugar and lemon slices you’ve ever seen. He sits down beside you on the couch and fixes you a cup. ”I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you,” you sigh apologetically. “Even with your hero work, you still make time for me.” 

His golden eyes cut over to you, serious yet soft. “Hey,” he firmly says. “Stop. Life is hard. Adulting sucks. We’re still friends regardless of work and responsibilities. Now drink.” 

He hands you a cup of your tea, the scent of lemon mingled with mint filling your nostrils. You hold the warm cup against your nose and breathe in the steam before taking a much-needed sip. You’re immediately filled with warmth. “Ah,” you sigh. “That’s nice.” 

Keigo leans back against the couch with you, spreading his legs as he sips his tea and visibly relaxes into the couch. You keep your eyes straight ahead, not wanting to stare dead at his thighs or his groin though it’s right in earshot. “See? Works like magic…though weed works too.” He breathes in his lavender tea and takes a sip, his eyes fluttering shut. You like seeing him relaxed like this. He looks way more handsome to you in this state.

You don’t quite know when you started thinking this way about your friend. You just know that these thoughts have yet to go away. But you won’t dare acknowledge them or tell him anything. Keigo is your bestie and that is how he’ll stay. You two have been through way too much as friends and have too much of a great relationship for you to ruin it with emotions you can’t decipher or make sense of. 

He turns to you now, pulling your feet into his lap. “So tell me about this date you had tonight. Didn’t you say it was with some guy you met on Bumble?” 

You nod, sipping your tea. “Yeah, we’d been talking for about two weeks and decided to meet for dinner. Really, I just agreed because he was paying and I thought it’d be a good distraction from work, but…” 

You pause, not really wanting to delve into tonight’s story about your horrible date. You started dating again five months ago, going through dating apps like Bumble, Tinder, and Hinge. You figured trying to find a nice, loving relationship wouldn’t hurt, but so far, your efforts have been futile. If you haven’t found hookups, you’ve found a slew of bad dates with mansplainers, closet incels, and the scummiest losers on these apps. The most recent one takes the cake. 

Keigo raises an eyebrow at you. “But?” he encourages. “Damn, was he that bad?” He laughs a bit, though he tries to stifle it as much as he can. 

You sigh, picturing your date tonight. He was a beautiful man on the outside—Colgate smile, curly hair, nice body—, but on the inside, you felt like you’d need all kinds of cleaning products to clean up his nasty personality. “Well, let’s just say I won't be calling him again.” 

Keigo laughs at this and you shove him in the arm. “At dinner, all he talked about was himself, he kept sneakily checking out other girls even though I saw, and then he acted like I had to give him “some” just because he paid even though he said he would! I even suggested we split!” 

The pro grows increasingly interested in hearing about this, especially hearing that your date was clearly a whore. “Well, what did he say?” he asks. You stare at the TV, not really watching the show. “He just kept trying to get me to go home with him, telling me he had good beer back at his place. When I said no, he looked fed up.” 

You take a sip of your tea, becoming more open with every sip. “Like, I should’ve been the one who was fed up,” you scoff. “I had to force him to ask questions about me at dinner because he kept droning on about the fact that he’s a licensed plumber and how he usually meets girls below his caliber.” 

You roll your eyes, something you’ve been doing all night. You’re shocked they haven’t rolled into the back of your head or fallen out yet. Keigo makes a noise between a disproving grunt and a lamented groan. “Oh, he was that type of guy.” He takes a forkful of the cake. 

You do the same, your hands brushing against one another as you reach for your fork. You ignore the slight spark you feel when you touch him. “Yeah,” you sigh. “But the thing is I don’t even think he liked that I have a job where I have a higher salary than he does. He was so weird about it.” 

You take another sip of the tea and pause, realizing that you’re not as angry or as disappointed as before. You feel so relaxed and at ease, your body melting into the sofa. It’s like you’re at a spa, listening to soothing music while you get your feet rubbed. “God, I’m so relaxed. That’s a first in I don’t know how long.” 

Keigo smiles, happy to hear this. “Well, that’s a good thing. Now….” He lowers his cup down and places a hand on your ankle. “Tell me more.” And so you do. You tell him about your bad date, your fears about being alone, your mother constantly getting on you about being single and giving her some grandbabies soon, etc. 

With every sip of your magical tea, you become more open and honest with your friend, running off with the mouth about your life. Keigo listens intently, running his hands over your aching feet and flicking the TV channel every so often. He never once speaks or interrupts. He only listens, which is exactly what you need. 

Finally, once the tea is almost gone, you sit back against the couch and hug a pillow to your chest. “I don’t think he’s ever gonna call again,” you continue, referring to your Bumble date. “And I don’t care! I’m so tired of meeting the same jerks who only wanna brag about themselves to anyone who will listen and only look at women as sex toys.” 

Keigo pushes the plate of empty cake aside, pouring you more tea in the process. “Not to sound like your dad or anything, but why do you even wanna try if the dating pool is so shitty?” 

You take a moment to think about it, mostly because your mind is moving so slowly. It’s like everything is moving in slow motion. Maybe going on your date after work wasn’t a good idea. “I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to try to find somebody good.” Keigo raises an eyebrow at you. “Somebody good?” he asks. “What does a “good” partner look like to you, V?” 

You are stunned by the question and suddenly at a loss of words. You’re not sure why. You’ve had these types of conversations with Keigo all the time! But suddenly, you feel nervous and like the walls around you are closing in. 

“Like…I dunno….someone who listens and is interested in me. Someone who’s understanding, caring, kind…someone who doesn’t always think about themselves. Someone who I can count on for anything.” 

Keigo doesn’t say anything. He just fixes you with an unreadable yet almost personal expression. “Don’t get it twisted though: I love my life as it is!” you quickly add. “I’ve got a great job, a crib, a car, friends, family...I don’t want you to think I’m desperate for a man to make me feel complete.” 

The blonde sips on his tea, looking confused at your sudden interest in proving to him that you’re not desperate for a man. “I didn’t say that.” 

But you continue on: “It would just be nice, y’know, to have a loving relationship. Sometimes I get lonely and I think that I’ll die alone with my cat.” You play with your fingers, looking at anything but him. You don’t want to see the pity in his eyes. 

“I know that it’s just me being stupid and overthinking shit, but it’d be nice to have someone I click with, like we do,” you confess. “I’d like a partner like…you.” 

That’s who you want in a partner. Someone who thinks of you like they think of themselves. Someone who is there for you to lend an ear, a shoulder to cry on, or a smile that gives you butterflies. Someone who you look forward to seeing and makes you happy when you think about them. Someone like your good friend, Keigo. 

Shyly, you look at him and you can see the stun in his eyes at your confession. Realizing how this sounds, your body and face flame up. “No, no, not like that!” You protest, flustered. “I-I just mean I’d want a guy like you as a partner. Y’know, someone who makes me feel safe and secure. Beautiful, even.” 

The silence that swells around you is intense and uncomfortable. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,” you awkwardly chuckle. “There must be truth serum in this tea or somethin’.” You lower your cup down on the coffee table, pushing it away as if it’s poison. 

“Actually, no,” Keigo says. “It’s weed.” 

You pause, letting the wheels turn in your head as you process what he just said. “....What?” you finally ask. “You’re joking.” You even giggle to yourself, but he doesn’t. You can tell from the look he’s giving you. “You’re serious,” you realize. 

He sips on his tea, somehow proving it to you by doing so. “Deadass,” he replies. 

“Hawks, what the fuck?!” You shout, sitting up from the couch. “Why would you do that?! You know I don’t smoke!” Keigo clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Oh, relaaaax,” he draws. “I didn’t put that much in it. Just enough to relax you. If I would’ve asked, you would’ve said no.” 

“Of course, I wouldn’t say no!” you protest, jumping up from the couch. “Because I don’t do drugs!” 

“Well, neither do I!” he retorts, standing up with you. “I’m not a pill popper or nothing, V. It’s just weed. All it does is soothe your nerves, gives you the munchies, and makes you sleep. Speakin’ of munchies, I’ve got some fried chicken takeout left in the fridge.” 

“And it also makes your anxiety skyrocket,” you angrily argue. “That explains why I’m runnin’ off with the mouth and sayin’ shit that I shouldn’t be saying!” 

You place a hand on your head, feeling it thump like a heartbeat. Speaking of heartbeat, you become hyper-aware of how much it has increased in the last few minutes and now, you can’t stop focusing on it. “God,” you exhale. You close your eyes, trying to slow your breathing and your racing mind. 

Keigo immediately turns around and rushes to you, laying a hand on your back. “You okay?” he asks, worried. Once he realizes what’s happening, he immediately springs into action and takes your hand. Slowly, he leads you back over to the couch and sits you down. 

“Stay there,” he says and as fast as lightning, he zooms back to the kitchen to get you some water and flaps back over on his big, red, fluffy wings like an angel. “Sip this,” he says, handing you the glass. “Just relax, honey. You’re okay. It’s just the weed talkin’.” 

He gently touches your knee and rubs it as you drink the ice water, taking slow sips. You try to ignore how hot you feel with him touching you, but it’s impossible to ignore. It’s been a long time since a touch has made you feel like this. His voice too—so soft and silky. “I promise I didn’t put that much in there,” he says, sounding guilty. “But maybe I shouldn’t have put any in at all. I’m sorry, V. I just didn’t like seein’ you so tired.” 

His hand gently grasps your knee and you shudder like he’s touching bare skin. “I had hoped this would relax you. You walk around like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders, y’know? The bad dates don’t make it better.” 

He looks at you then. Really looks at you, like he sees all of you—the woman you are, the woman he sees, and the woman you want to be. All in those golden irises like sunken treasure. “You deserve to be happy,” he softly says. “And you deserve to have a partner who will make your happiness and well-being their top priority. I hope whoever it is knows how amazing of a person they’ve got.” 

And in his eyes and his handsome face, you see it. He’s telling the truth. Suddenly, you feel warm and those butterflies start flapping away in the pit of your stomach. Looking at him, you think to yourself that all that you want in a partner…could it be that maybe, just maybe, who you want is…him? 

Suddenly, your hand moves on its own and cups Keigo’s face. He flinches slightly, stunned by the sudden movement, but he doesn’t push you away. “V?” he whispers, furrowing his brows at you. 

Wordlessly, you lean in slowly, assessing his face and giving him time to pull away. He doesn’t. It’s like you’re watching yourself from the outside, but you can’t stop yourself from pressing your lips to his. The kiss is tentative and short, but it absolutely sets your entire body ablaze. His lips are soft and taste faintly of lavender from the tea. His cologne engulfs your nostrils, making your hormones run wild. 

It’s the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life…and it just so happens that it’s with your best friend. 

You pull away, both of you silently staring at one another, shocked by how great of a kiss that was and what the fuck just happened. Keigo doesn’t freak out or even remotely act like he didn’t enjoy it. He only whispers, “V”, his voice barely above a whisper. But it’s enough to send your mind careening back down to Earth. “I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice small. “I didn’t…I-I don’t know why I—“ 

But Keigo stops you by turning your face towards his again and kissing you once more. This one is longer and slower. He takes his sweet time getting to know your lips and introducing you to his, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your jaw. It feels good. 

So good, in fact, that you find your hands moving to his shoulders, your fingers feeling up his toned arms and biceps. It feels good. He feels so good. You can’t believe how right it feels to be kissing and touching him. Slowly, he pulls away, his breathing ragged. “We should probably talk about this.” 

But you pull him back in for more kisses, these ones eager and heated. “We can talk later,” you whisper. “Just keep kissing me.” He listens to you, a soft moan leaving his lips as your tongue caresses his bottom lip. He parts his lips, granting you access, and your tongues begin to swirl amongst each other as your hands wander. You feel the, on your waist, your back, your ass, squeezing and kneading. 

At some point, Keigo walks you back to the couch and sits down first, pulling you on top of him. A soft, surprised moan escapes you as his hands grip your ass, keeping you locked in his lap. You straddle him and his groin, encasing him in the heat between your luscious, jiggly thighs. You keep kissing, your hands sliding down his chest, indulging in his muscles, and wanting so much to feel his bare skin. 

He pulls away with a soft pop as your lips disconnect, his gaze hooded and dazed as he stares up at you. “You feel so good here,” he sighs. “You’re so soft.” He pushes himself against you as he begins to pepper your neck with soft kisses. You moan, tossing your head back, letting him litter your throat in slow, wet smooches. Unconsciously, your body responds by grinding against him, causing something very hard to grow between your thighs. 

You gasp, looking down at his bulge. You got your best friend hard! He gives you a sheepish look with an endearingly awkward smile. “Sorry. You’ve got me excited.” A fire ignites inside of you, desperate to be freed. It might be the weed, but you feel just as excited and aroused as he is. “That’s the idea,” you giggle. You lean in to kiss him, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Bedroom. Please.” 

Keigo’s eyes flash with worry, your plea awakening something in him. “Are you sure you want this?” he whispers. “We can stop here if you want to—“ 

“No,” you exhale, shaking your head. “I don’t wanna stop. I want this.” To prove your point, you take his hand and slide it between your thighs for him to feel your second heartbeat. Your pussy is throbbing and sobbing for him, quickly becoming more insistent on being touched. Keigo’s mouth parts, a shuddering breath leaving his lips. 

You watch his wings shudder and ruffle as if you’ve touched them. He’s told you before that his feathers are sensitive. You make a mental note to experiment with them later as he cups his hands under your ass. “Hang onto me then,” he orders. “Don’t look down, okay, darlin’?” 

The pet name makes you feel hot all over and you nod, holding onto him tight. You lock your arms and legs around him as he stands up with you in his arms and gently flutters his wings. Though you gasp as you’re suddenly levitating off of the ground, you close your eyes and hug him close as he flies up the stairs to his bedroom. He chuckles at your reaction having not taken you flying before. He’ll have to do that later. 

Once you get to his bedroom, he gently puts you down on your feet and shuts the door. You look around the spacious room, noticing the sweet smell of roses and the cleanliness of it. The balcony on the left side of the room next to the bed is cracked, bringing in a soft summer breeze. “I can’t believe I’ve never seen your bedroom before.” You turn to him, noticing him sizing you up in a way that excites you. “You never had to.” 

You turn back to the king-sized bed, big enough for at least four people with a soft-looking red comforter, pillows, and… “Is that…a mirror?!” you gasp, looking up at the ceiling. There, in the square-shaped mirror hovering above the bed, you see yourself staring back. 

Keigo comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Yeah, I know; I’m a freak. Is this okay with you?” His concern for your comfort turns you on even more. You’ve never seen yourself have sex before, but the idea of looking up into the mirror and watching yourself take dick and tongue while seeing Keigo’s handsome face contort in pleasure makes your pussy spill all in your panties. 

You turn around in his arms and nod, too aroused to speak. He lazily smirks at you, his eyes hooded from arousal and the weed. “Then help me out of these clothes, will ya?” He groans, pulling on his pants. “I can’t take much more of this waiting game, babe.” 

You can’t either. You’re dying to see what he looks like without clothes. “You get naked first,” you suggest, a purr in your voice. He fulfills your wish and works his pants off while you peel off his shirt. At one point, Keigo almost falls trying to get his pants off, making you both giggle hysterically. 

Keigo gets very giggly and goofy when he’s high, something you know from many calls where he’s been high as a kite and you’re trying to sleep. Apparently, you get giggly too, unable to stop laughing. The clothes continue to come off until he’s just in his undies, exposing all kinds of savory, tanned muscle that you can’t help but touch, stroke, kiss, and lick. Keigo moans and tangles a hand in your hair as you do as you please, whispering, “Fuck, baby” and arousing “Mmm-hmms” as you do. 

When you pull away, you ogle at his burn scars for a moment, trailing your fingers over the rough patches of skin. You feel Keigo tense as you do and look up into his eyes, seeing insecurity. Quickly, you soften this by cupping his face in your hands. “I like you like this,” you whisper. “Gives you character.” 

Keigo cracks a smile and laughs, the sight adorable to you as your thumbs stroke his cheeks. “Your turn, darlin’.” Slowly, he begins to peel off your dress, slowly kissing you as he does. It’s one of those painfully slow, sloppy kisses with tongue that leave you weak in the knees and craving more of him. 

Once your dress and bra are off, Keigo sits you down on the bed and works on getting your pantyhose down. He watches you watch him pull the nylon stockings down your thighs, exposing your milky, brown skin and luscious thighs that he can’t help but stroke and grip as he leans over to kiss you. 

His lips trail down to your breasts, making you moan as his soft lips touch your hardened nipples. When he latches his mouth around one of them and gently sucks, you gasp and grasp his hair, arching your chest into his mouth. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs. “How the fuck could any man fuck up a date with you?” 

He turns his attention to your other nipple, giving it the same attention he just gave the one now tingling and coated in his spit. He toys with your tits, molding and squeezing them gently in your hands, loving how soft and heavy they are. Loud moans escape you as you tangle your fingers in his blonde locks, your pussy throbbing in your panties. “Keigo,” you mewl. “Baby, touch me.” 

He pulls away from your nipple to speak: I am, darlin’,” he chuckles. “Where else do you want me?” His golden eyes twinkle up at you with lust and mirth. Your fingers slide down to your clothed pussy, silently telling him just where you want him. You guide his hand there, but he stops. Instead, he keeps your hand there, staring at you. “No…show me.” 

You blink at him, confused. Gently, he pushes your legs open more to expose yourself to him. Then he sits up on his knees beside you and, his eyes still locked with yours, takes down his briefs to show you his very hard, very thick, very pretty cock. You gape at it, marveling at the vein trailing from the pink, bulbous head dripping in pre-cum to the base where his heavy balls hang. “Show me how you touch yourself and I’ll show you.” 

It feels like fire has crackled beneath your skin and in your veins as you do what he says. Slowly, still overcome by the weed, you pull your panties aside to reveal your glistening, wet cunt to him. “Shit,” he sighs. “You have such a pretty pussy.” 

You whimper pitifully at his nasty compliment, rubbing your clit in slow circles. You feel deliciously dirty and sexy under his gaze as he watches you, his hand stroking his dick in tandem with your slow pace. You pay attention to how his hand grips the thick base and strokes upward before going down, wanting to do the same. 

The more you stroke your pussy while he strokes his cock, soft moans and hums of pleasure leaving his pillowy-soft lips, the more you want to go further. Sitting here with your legs open and your fingers teasing your wet pussy while he gently pumps his cock in your face is the most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced. You need more of him. 

You tilt your head up and begin giving the head of his cock kitten licks and kisses, earning soft moans in response. Peering up at him under your lashes, you beg him with your eyes to give you what you want. “You want this?” he asks, pressing his cock against your cheek. You nod, parting your lips as he slides his cock over to gently rub it against your mouth. 

You open your mouth wider, allowing him to slide his cock in your mouth. “Fuck,” he groans, his gorgeous eyes rolling in the back of his head as his cock settles against your tongue. He lets you take the reins, only slowly thrusting in time with the slow bops of your head and sucks. You take your time blowing him, wanting to get to know his cock. He is thick and stretches out your throat, causing you to have to breathe through your nostrils and feel an ache in your jaw. 

But it feels so good. You love how he feels in your mouth. You love how he tastes. You love how warm he feels encased in your mouth and throat. You love the amount of spit that collects in your mouth and drips down your chin as you continue to blow him, using your free hand to play with his balls. “God,” he moans, his hand tangling in your hair. “You feel so good, V, what the fuck.” 

He feels good too. Your pussy gets wetter, your juices slipping down to your asscrack, as you continue to rub yourself in time with your slow deep throating. You absolutely love sucking his cock. It doesn’t take long for that knot in your core to begin tightening and you rub a little faster. “Kei,” you exhale around his cock. “I-I’m ‘bout to…I’m gonna—“ 

“No.” Keigo’s golden eyes flash at you, firm. “Stop.” You do as he says, slowing down before coming to a pause. “Sit on my face,” he bluntly says. You blink at him, stunned. “What?” you dumbly ask. 

“You heard me, baby: sit. On my. Face.” His hand slides down to cup yours over your pussy. “I want you to do what I’ve dreamed of you doin’ to me for years and that’s cumming in my mouth.” A cocky smirk pulls at his lips. “Don’t worry. I can handle you. If I die, I die happy.” 

You roll your eyes while he laughs, but you still think it over. 

You’ve never sat on a guy’s face before. It’s the first time you’ll be doing so. What if he’s uncomfortable? What if you can’t breathe and you accidentally smother him? What if you crush his neck with your full weight? Those pesky “what ifs” continue to haunt you, but at the sight of Keigo’s lustful eyes and warm smile, they begin to dissipate. 

So you agree. “Pat my thigh twice if it’s too much,” you say, earning a scoff in return. He then crawls up to the top of the bed, giving you a view of his great ass, and flops onto his back, head against the pillows. His smile widens and he motions you to come hither, his cock standing at attention for you. 

Suddenly feeling shy but not wanting to back out, you slowly crawl over to him and on top of him, your thighs straddling his chest. “Uh…so how do I do this?” you awkwardly ask. He laughs, his chest vibrating beneath you. “Well, first, you’ve gotta get close to my face, baby. Don’t worry; you won’t fall. Just sit on me.” 

Drawn to his smile and encouragement like a moth to a flame, you sit up on your knees and scoot closer until you’re hovering over his handsome face. His eyes peer up at you, coaxing you to come down. Slowly, you do and almost immediately, your jaw drops, and your eyes go wide at the immense pleasure you feel when his tongue hits your clit. 

“Oh, God!” you cry out, grabbing onto the headboard for dear life so you don’t spray all over your best friend’s face. In this position, he can reach everything, from his tongue caressing your clit and the folds of your cunt to his hands gripping and massaging your ass. He’s able to drink right from the source now, so he does so. He slurps and drinks like a thirsty man from your pussy, falling in love with how you taste. 

And you fall in love with his mouth. You can’t help but grind yourself against his nose as he slurps at your pussy, his tongue moving magically between your folds. “Fuck, Hawks, yes!” you sob, tossing your head back. “Fuck, please, keep going! Oh, don’t stop!” 

From between your soft, sweet, thick thighs, you can hear Keigo mumbling about how good you taste and whimpering as he continues to slurp your pussy. You’ve never heard him whimper before. It sounds so pathetic yet so sexy coming from him, the sounds vibrating against your pussy. “Fuck me,” he pleas from underneath you. “Fuck my face, baby.” 

So you do. You can’t help it. His mouth just feels too good! Your hips move on their own, grinding and rolling, causing your pussy to glide along his tongue and your clit to bump against his nose. His face becomes your surfboard and you’re trying desperately to catch that wave of pleasure that will surely cause a wipeout for you. Your moans and cries grow louder, bouncing off the bedroom walls, possibly alerting the neighbors of how good you’re getting fucked. 

Finally, that knot in your core reaches its limit and you feel yourself come undone in Keigo’s mouth. “I’m cumming!” you gasp, using one hand to grip Keigo’s hair. “Fuck, baby, I’m cumming!” Greedily, Keigo takes all that you give him, his tongue moving slowly yet deliciously along your wet slit as you cum in his mouth. 

He moans eagerly, taking everything you give him that floods into his mouth like the most delicious waterfall. Your moans are like music to him, making his cock strain and ache. He needs to bust at this point! When you begin to feel overstimulated, he finally stops and you roll off of him. 

You flop onto your back on the mattress, panting heavily and staring up at your body in the mirror. Your brown skin glistens in sweat and your hair is a tousled mess. Keigo gently strokes your side, his pants matching yours. “That was perfect,” he sighs. Tiredly, you nod. “You okay?” He worriedly asks. 

You’ve never felt better. But now you want more. So you turn to him and kiss him, tasting yourself off of his lips. “I want more,” you whisper. You don’t need to elaborate any more than that for him. “Lemme just get some stuff,” he murmurs, kissing your lips before moving to his nightstand drawer. 

There, he retrieves a bottle of edible lube and a water bottle for you. As you drink the water, you peek over his shoulder, spotting a pack of pre-rolled blunts that he no doubt smokes while he’s in here. Shockingly, you put a hand on his shoulder and nod down at the blunts. “Take one out,” you say. “I wanna try somethin’.” 

Keigo looks shocked since you seemed so freaked out about weed initially, but he does as you say and places the blunt and a lighter on an ashtray on the nightstand. You coax him to lean back, relishing how eager he seems as he lets you do as you want to him. You then straddle him, his hard cock pressing against your mound, and press your lips to his ear. 

“I wanna smoke while I ride you,” you whisper. “I want you to blow smoke in my mouth while you watch me take your cock.” 

Keigo shudders at your dirty suggestion, swearing under his breath. “Ya mean shotgunning?” He chuckles, raising an eyebrow at you. You flush bashfully, shrugging. You’ve only ever seen the act in movies, but the idea of it turns you on, especially when you’re taking cock. “I like you freaky like this,” he pants, gently nibbling your bottom lip. “Go ahead then, baby. Take your time.” 

So you do. You use the lube on him, stroking the cold substances up and down his shaft. He shivers at the chill until the lube warms up in your palm, your ministrations making him moan and whimper. “C’mon, mama,” he groans. “You’ll make me cum before I’m even inside you yet.” 

You add some lube around your entrance despite being as wet as an ocean. But you decide that you want to feel all of him, so you want to be as slick as possible. Taking hold of his shoulder with one hand while he securely handles your hips, you take his cock into your hand and rub it against your slit. He locks eyes with you, enjoying seeing the pleasure in them. “Fuck me,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Take me, baby.” 

Slowly, you press the head against your entrance and gently slide down his shaft. You take his head first, the sensations you both feel causing you to gasp in unison. Then, inch by inch, you take more of his thick cock inside of your soft, curvy body. You slowly rock your hips and bounce up and down in his lap, taking him deeper and deeper with every passing second. “Mmm, fuck, Keigo,” you whine, gripping his hips as you bounce on his dick. “You feel so fucking good!” 

Keigo would tell you the same, but he’s too busy watching your pretty ass take his cock like a good girl. He loves the way your stomach jiggles; how soft your back rolls feel as he traces his fingers over them; how your tits bounce and your thighs ripple. You’re truly a specimen, especially when high. 

Speaking of high, he remembers the blunt he put on the nightstand and reaches for it, never once taking his eyes off of you. He grabs the blunt and his lighter, still watching you ride him. “You’re doin’ so well for me, baby,” he groans. “You feel so fuckin’ amazing. Keep bouncin’ on me, okay?” 

You nod, continuing to sink down onto his cock as you watch him light his blunt. He wraps his lips around one of the ends and puffs once, twice, three times as the other end burns red from the lighter. Keigo then tosses the lighter aside and inhales deeply. The smoke billows from his lips as he exhales, his golden eyes hooded and lazy. 

“Mind if I smoke?” he jokingly asks, smiling lazily at you. You’ve never seen him look sexier. “C’mere,” he murmurs. He puts the blunt to his mouth again and inhales, holding the smoke between his cheeks. 

You lean in and make a small O shape with your puckered lips. He leans in and exhales slowly, blowing the smoke in a steady stream into your mouth. The weed smoke combined with his dick inside of you is a different kind of high. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment before opening again, dazed and slightly red. 

Keigo lets out a sexy chuckle as he watches your eyes glaze over. “Nice, right?” You slowly nod, smiling deliriously at him. As you slowly grind your clit against his stomach, you lean in again, wanting more. “You want another one, huh?” he asks. “Keep fucking me just like that then.” 

You do as he says and brace yourself on his shoulders, letting him shotgun you again for an indirect kiss. It quickly turns into a direct, sloppy tongue kiss as he presses his mouth to yours. The scent of marijuana and his spicy cologne mingles in your nostrils, somehow making you wetter and more needy. “Put your hand on my throat,” you beg. “Please, Keigo!” A fire flashes behind Keigo’s eyes, excited by your sluttiness. 

His big, red wings suddenly move around you as if to shield you from everything but him as his hand shoots out to gently grasp our throat. “Fuck, babe, you’re so hot like this. Who knew all it took to turn you into a little slut was some weed?” 

He watches you between his golden slits of eyes, his lips pressed together in pleasure as he feels your slick pussy stroke him again and again, both of you softly moaning in the darkness of his bedroom. The bed creaks and bounces underneath you, your ass softly clapping against Keigo’s thighs. The lewd sounds of you fucking only makes you move a little faster and harder. “Fuck, Kei,” you whine. “I’m gonna…gonna cum soon.” 

Through gritted teeth, Keigo nods, his face flushed. “Shit, I know,” he hisses. “Me too. Need to..need to fuck you harder.” Without warning, he shoots forward, wraps an arm around you, and begins to lift his lips up to fuck you back. You gasp and toss your head back, eyes closed from the ecstasy and his thick cock stroking your insides. Your clit rubs against his pelvis with every thrust, getting you closer to your end. 

“No,” Keigo growls. “Open your eyes.” You do so and look down into his lust-blown eyes. “Look up,” he demands. “Look at yourself getting fucked, V. Look at you take that fucking dick.” 

You slowly look up into the mirror, watching the woman above you. Her tits jiggle and bounce like ripe, hanging fruit; her soft, plump body ripples as the handsome man below her fucks up into her, bringing her closer to the brink of orgasm. Her face is contorted in pleasure, her brows furrowed and lips parted as moans and gasps leave her lips. She is beautiful. And she is you. 

Seeing you look so hot getting fucked like that…God, it’s too much. You dig your nails into Keigo’s shoulders and press your face into his neck, wailing from the pleasure. “Oh, fuck!” you cry out. “Fuck yes, baby, I’m gonna…gonna…oh, fuck!” Your orgasm sneaks up on you like the killer in a slasher flick and tears you up from the inside. You come apart at the seams on Keigo’s cock, clenching and throbbing around him as you cum. 

Keigo is right behind you, slamming his hips sloppily into yours as he tries to chase that high, even babbling as he does. “That’s it, baby, cum on my cock,” he moans. “Fuck, fuck, fuck yeah, I’m gonna cum too!” 

To get him there quicker, you begin to gently stroke his wings, starting from the wing bone to the tips of his feathers, earning a soft white and a shudder in response to your ministrations. 

After a few more thrusts and a ruffle of his wings as you slide your fingers against them, Keigo’s muscles clench and he holds onto you for dear life. Ah!” he gasps as he explodes deep inside of you. You weakly moan as you feel his warm cum flood your insides, making your pussy and thighs feel wet and sticky. “Take it all,” he exhales against your chest. “Take all of me, V. It’s yours.” 

You whimper and shudder against him, overcome by your and his orgasms. The aftershocks begin to set in, causing you to hold onto him as the aftermath of the sex begins to fade. After it does, you feel exhausted. Silence swells between you both despite Keigo still being inside of you. With a soft moan, he carefully slides out of you and flops onto his back. 

You roll off of him and lay beside him onto the cool comforter. For a while, you just lay side by side, never saying a word. Your heavy pants turn into one, mingling with the sound of cars outside. In the silence, reality sets in: you just had sex with your best friend. 

Keigo clears his throat, breaking the silence. “Uh, that was…” He trails off, trying to find the right word, but not being able to. 

“Yeah,” you agree. It was fucking amazing. But also fucking strange. 

Slowly, the winged blonde turns toward you, one wing moving to cover you like a feathery, crimson blanket. “Do you wanna talk about what just happened?” he asks. “‘Cause I think we should.” You don’t say anything because what can you possibly say to this? 

Keigo props his cheek up on his fist, looking down at you in worry. “Do you regret it?” The moonlight illuminates the fear in his eyes. He’s scared you’ll say yes. 

“No,” you immediately reply and you see relief set in. “But I don’t know where we go from here. I mean, we pretty much just ruined our friendship doin’ this.” You let out an awkward chuckle though your stomach flips at the idea. 

“No shit,” he chuckles. “But if I can be honest with you, I’d rather us have done that than not. I just hope you know that everything I said to you is true: you are an amazing woman, V, and you do deserve an amazing partner like…” He stops immediately from saying whatever he is going to say. 

“Like who? You?” you joke. You look up at him and snort at your own joke…but he isn’t laughing. He looks conflicted like he’s trying hard to hide what he wants to say. Your heart leaps into your throat and your stomach does a gastric flip. “Hawks?” you quietly ask. 

Finally, he speaks. “I’ve had these…feelings for you for some time now,” he confesses. “I don’t know when they started, but they just appeared one day. I had always adored you as my friend, but once I realized how much I wanted that to change, I started looking at you as the woman I wanted in my life and adored you even more.” 

Under his soft yet intense gaze, you feel like you’re on fire. You lay there next to him, completely frozen, afraid of ruining this moment. “I don’t wanna spring this on you,” he continues, “and if you’re uncomfortable, you can always leave. But, V, all I want is for you to be happy and I’d be lying to your face if I said I didn’t want you to be happy with me.” 

He looks nervous, playing with a silver ring on his ringed fingers. You take his hands into yours, finally feeling brave enough to state the obvious: “I feel the same,” you whisper. 

Hope appears in his widened eyes, his lips twitching up into a smile. “So?” he coaxes. “Are you down for this?” 

It now occurs to you that all of this time you’ve been searching for the one on dating apps and in the streets when all you had to do was look right beside you at the one person you would’ve never suspected. Or expected. And it could be possible that things won’t work out, but it’s also possible that Hawks could be the best thing that ever happened to you. And you want to find out. You don’t care what happens. You just wanna enjoy this with him. “Okay,” you giggle. “Yeah…let’s give this a shot.” 

With a happy smile, Keigo leans in and presses a joyful kiss to your lips, cupping your face in his warm, calloused hands. You giggle, filled with giddiness. But then that happiness is stumped when your stomach rudely begins growling. 

“That’s the weed talking,” he laughs, raising his brows humorously at you. “How about we end tonight with that takeout, some more cuddling, and a round two, hm?” He takes your hands and presses two kisses to your knuckles that travel down to your pussy, making it throb impatiently. 

“That sounds perfect to me,” you purr before leaning up to kiss him again. 

You never do make it to round two. The weed fights back after you chomp down on fried chicken and Hawks’ snack stash in his kitchen, causing you both to drift off to sleep snuggled against each other. But you don’t mind because being snuggled up underneath him in his bed, feeling the softness of his wings wrapped around you, is the most intimate thing you could ask for. 

And the next morning, in the golden light of dawn pouring in through the balcony to air out the smell of weed, he makes up for it by fucking you senseless into the afternoon. 

Yeah. You definitely made the right decision. 

THE END.

[casuallyawkardd]

Hi! Can you do a Miguel x f!reader fic where they're dating? It's expensive to live in Nueva York and the reader overworks herself at a thankless job with a pervy boss but she can't find work anywhere else. She doesn't tell Miguel about her bosses advances because she doesn't want him to worry about her but the signs are getting harder to hide.

This request sparks joy, I enjoy all the fluff I've been writing lately, but deep down I'm just an angsty little bean who likes sprinkling trauma into my writing 😇

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Warnings: MATURE THEMES MINORS DNI! Not explicit but noncon so deaddove?, sexual themes, Miguel does a no-no but it's an accident, angst, hurt/comfort

Everything had started out so promising. It was your first 'big girl' job. Well, technically not, but it was your first job in which your degree actually came in handy. It seemed like a dream come true when looking through rose colored glasses. A salary paying job at a respectable company, the annual income promising that you wouldn't have to be living paycheck to paycheck, the days of barely paying rent on time a distant memory.

The first month was the honeymoon phase, your new team being extremely helpful in showing you the ropes and helping you to establish a new routine. After being in a year-long rut, things finally seemed to be going your way. With the new job and a loving boyfriend, what could go wrong?

You didn't notice the red flags right away when you met your boss. In all honesty, he reminded you of Miguel, making you feel at ease around him. Like Miguel, he was tall and well built, tanned skin and dark hair. However, at the same time, the two had their differences. Your boss, though he had his own charms, wasn't as handsome as Miguel; he was also much more jovial than him. Everyone in the office seemed to like him, the young interns and some of the older office ladies gushing over him in secret. At the time, you had even joked that you'd shoot your shot with him if you weren't already in a happy relationship.

It was a gradual change. He had always been friendly with you, hell he was friendly with everyone, going out of his way to make conversation with you and bring you a cup of coffee when he came in in the morning. Then came the touching, his hand lingering longer than they should on your shoulders or resting on the small of your back to guide you closer to him. You thought it was weird, that feeling in your gut telling you something was wrong, but his casual nature and pearly whites would have you second guessing yourself. Maybe you were overthinking things?

Your answer came after a company dinner. It was late and he had offered to walk you home. Miguel was busy with work and the coworkers that were still there were people you didn't know very well, so you took him up on the offer. Everything seemed fine, the two of you walking side by side, keeping up friendly conversation and even sharing a few laughs. When you arrived at your apartment building, turning to say thank you and goodnight, that hand was at your waist once again. Pulling you to him, his head lowering to meet yours and your eyes widened in horror at what was clearly about to happen.

Quickly, you stiff armed him, creating much needed distance, the hand on your back seeming to hold on a little tighter. "I have a boyfriend," you reminded him, a fact you knew he was aware of.

He had just shrugged, "Who says he has to know?" your boss replies in that same, casual tone. When he doesn't see an inkling of humor cross your face, he backpedals, releasing you and holding his hands up in surrender. "Kidding, kidding, have a good night," the asshole tries to laugh it off, retreating back the way he had come. You return to the safety of your building, which doesn't feel as safe as it used to, now that he knew where you lived.

That was around the time your life at work started to go downhill as well. Your coworkers weren't as friendly, whispering behind their hands and throwing dirty looks in your direction. Your boss seemed to become more and more aggressive with his advances. Quite literally backing you into a corner when you're sitting at your desk or in the breakroom. He continuously asked you out, which you resorted to flat out telling him 'no' after multiple attempts of being polite about it. Everytime you reject him, it felt like he expected you to work later or show up earlier, scolding you when you don't comply.

It felt like it's you against the company. The work losing its enjoyment and the people who you thought were your friends now the bane of your existence. Why was this happening? What had you done wrong?

"Why don't you talk to HR?" your best friend suggests one night while you're venting.

"I did about some people, the ones who were real nasty at least," you reply with a heavy sigh, "but it feels like it's everyone. And my boss?" you groan woefully, "I get the feeling he'd just fire HR if they said someone reported him."

The frown on your friend's face deepens, a look of pity in their eye. "Well, what about your boyfriend? Does he know?"

You don't respond right away, pursing your lips a moment, "No, he doesn't."

"You should tell him!" your friend snaps at you, lightly slapping your shoulder, "He's scary right? I bet your boss would think twice about looking your way if he got his ass kicked."

"Yeah, maybe..." you don't doubt it. There had been times when you had thought about it, maybe even fantasized about Miguel showing up at your work and pummeling your boss in his stupid, charming face; and yet you haven't breathed a word about it to your other half. But, you already know why you haven't.

When Miguel and you had first started dating, he had been closed off. Understandably so, given the brief background he had told you about himself, it didn't surprise you that he had a hard time trusting people. Then one day, there was a shift, as if a switch had been flipped. He was happier around you, more affectionate. A soft smile on his face whenever you caught him staring at you, a gentle chuckle even if you weren't trying to be funny.

"Is everything...okay?" you ask him one night, the two of you lying in bed. Miguel has his head on your chest, a large arm lazily slung over your middle while you absentmindedly played with his hair.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he responds, lifting his head enough to glance up at you.

"You're just...different."

"Is it a good different?"

You smile at his change in expression. How he reminds you of a child worried they had done something wrong. "Yeah, it is good," you agree, bringing his face closer to kiss the spot between his brows. When you pull back, he moves closer. Shifting so he's above you, lips searching for yours. When they connect, it's electric. A buzz promising what's to come.

He pulls away enough to speak, "Works been a pain," he confesses, "between my duties as Spider-Man and maintaining the peace with the other universes, I can't seem to catch a break," there's a hint of annoyance in how he speaks that seems to grow the longer he thinks about it, but he catches himself. Taking a deep breath through his nose and letting out the same way, "But it's different with you. I feel like I can finally be at ease with you."

And there it is. The reason you've kept your mouth shut for months. The preservation of the little bubble Miguel and you have created. You were finally his safe space, someone he could relax around. Someone to provide a much needed calm to his already hectic life. It was something you had found in him months ago, but now the feeling was mutual, and you didn't want to ruin it.

It's not that bad, you told yourself, I can handle myself. That's what you tell yourself, after every lingering look from your boss and every snide comment your other coworkers give you. Miguel always said you were tough, joking that you'd have to be to date someone like him.

You didn't feel so tough tonight.

Work had been hard, with deadlines just around the corner, everyone was on edge. A little more venom behind their biting words, but that's not what led you to where you were now. Standing outside your apartment door, trembling as you fiddle with your keys and trying to hold back the tears until you were safely inside.

It was that asshole boss of yours again, only this time he had gone too far. Well, tried to at least. You had already come to terms with the fact he'd make you stay later than everyone else, working until the streetlights flicked on and even a little after. He had come over to your desk as you were putting your things in your bag, half paying attention to what he was saying. You were tired, ready to call it for the day, ready to go home and rest and-

Strong arms wrapped around you, making you stiffen in fear as what occurred a little over an hour ago replays in your head. The smell of takeout from your favorite Thai place brings you back and you're able to breathe a sigh of relief when you hear a familiar chuckle fill the air.

"Did I scare you, amor?" Miguel teases, releasing you and coming to stand at your side.

You crane your neck to look up at him, the look of fear now dissipated to one of surprise, "I thought we agreed to reschedule?" You had. While taking the train, clearly still shaken as you struggled to text him that your date would have to be another night. 'Had a rough day at work,' was your excuse. It wasn't a lie, just the truth with a few crucial details plucked out.

Miguel shrugged, taking your keys from your hand so he could pick out the right one for the front door. "I know," he explained, twisting the lock, "but I figured we could have a night in. Some takeout, maybe some episodes of that show you like-oh, baby you ripped your skirt," the small smile on his face drops as he spots the said rip, calloused fingers pinching the fabric before letting it go and heading inside the apartment.

It's your turn to look down at it, the urge to cry only growing at the sight, thinking it must have been torn by the metal desk in your struggles. This was your favorite skirt, Miguel's too from how he couldn't keep his hands off you when you wore it. You had planned on meeting up for your date right after work, so you had decided to wear your date night outfit to the office to save yourself a trip. It seemed like a harmless idea at first, but it turns out Miguel wasn't the only one who noticed you wearing it.

You followed at a slower pace, shutting and locking the door behind you. Including the deadbolt, something you did on occasion when you felt like you needed it. With a heavy sigh, you perked up as best you could and went to the living room; Miguel was already there on the couch waiting.

The evening went just as Miguel had suggested, your new show had a couple new episodes for you to catch up on, all while nibbling on the greasy food your partner had brought over. Under different circumstances, you would have considered tonight to be a perfect night in. A part of you felt bad, curled up on the opposite end of the couch from Miguel. Your appetite wasn't all there, only eating some of the steamed vegetables at the top of the box before setting it on the coffee table. Miguel had taken notice, of course he did, but as to why you were acting so strange he had no clue.

"Just been a long day," was all you said, forcing a smile to which he returned. When you had run out of episodes, you stood to take the leftovers to the fridge. Falling into routine gave you a sense of security, moving to start your evening chores next. Miguel called out, asking if you wanted help, but you turned him down. Wanting some time alone.

It turned out to be both a good thing and a bad one as well. The good being you were finally able to decompress, have some time to yourself where you didn't have to pretend to be okay. However, that meant you were left alone with your thoughts. The only ones in your head being about your boss. What he did...or rather tried to do.

You felt stuck, not sure if speaking up would make things worse. Your coworkers already hated you, talking bad about your 'perfect' boss would probably only make things worse. How could he even do that? To think you used to compare him to Miguel of all people. Miguel would never make you feel the way he did. Embarrass you, degrade you, hurt you-

The clinking of dishes brought you back to yourself, looking down at your shaking hands. You picked up the glass you had dropped in the sink, finishing up the last of the dishes and putting them aside to dry. Once done, you leaned against the counter, hands pressed into the hard edge of it. You blinked back the tears, trying to shake the dark thoughts from your mind. You weren't gonna cry, not again, not because of him.

"It feels like you've been in here forever, cariño," Miguel's baritone purrs in your ear out of the blue, a sort of warning as his arms wrap themselves around you again. And yet you still jumped, Miguel chuckling against your ear. "You're so jumpy tonight," he hummed, "I think you're letting work stress you out too much." Well that was an understatement.

"You're not one to talk," you reply, a bit more bite to your tone than intended, but Miguel seems too distracted to notice.

"Hmm, I think we both are due for some destressing," he murmured, fingers gliding your hair aside to plant some gentle kisses along your neck. It was a familiar dance with him, his lips trailing across your skin while his hands roamed elsewhere, alluding to what was to come. Normally, it was something you'd eagerly lean into, but today had been far from normal.

"Honey..." you tell him softly, trying to nudge him back with your shoulders, but it only seemed to make him want to be closer.

"Shh, I'll take care of you, mi amor," he soothed, planting a kiss on your cheek before coming down to resume nipping at your jawline.

"Miguel, come on," you tried to laugh it off, tried to keep your cool, but the tremor in your hands seemed to only worsen. It wasn't him, your feelings right now weren't because of him, but every touch brought you back to the office. Just tell him, the thought crosses your mind, but the stubborn part of you holds your tongue. Miguel hadn't done anything out of your usual comfort zone, even now he probably assumed you were playing coy like usual, not understanding the gravity of the situation. Why did he have to feel just like him? Firm body on your back pressing you into a hard surface, lips ghosting over your neck, teeth teasingly biting at the flesh, one hand untucking your shirt and sliding underneath the fabric to grope at your breast, the other hand gliding up your thigh, palming you from behind before migrating to the front, fingers inches closer to your center...

"Miguel, stop!" your mouth moves of its own accord. Adrenaline gives you the strength to push him back, the kitchen becoming almost deadly quiet. Your eyes are locked on the tile floor, not looking him in the eye. You couldn't look him in the eye, the thought alone of what face he was making causing your chest to tighten. The confusion, surprise, maybe even heartbreak.

The silence is broken as a sob rips from your throat, your hands covering your mouth to quiet the ones that follow. The tears are flowing freely now, wetting your cheeks and softly landing on the ground. "I...I'm sorry," Miguel's voice sounds so far away. "I didn't..I thought-"

"You didn't do anything," you speak and he goes quiet immediately. He's patient, waiting for you to continue. It's almost like an out of body experience, you lashing out seeming to open the flood gates. You tell him everything, how things at work had been going downhill for months after your boss tried to kiss you, your asshole coworkers turning on you and your even bigger asshole of a boss not taking no for an answer. The expectations of working longer hours than you were paid for. The stress, the frustration, the feeling of preservation so as not to ruin the dynamic you two had created. Your gibberish eventually leading into what had happened earlier that night.

"...I had to stay late, a-and my boss said he needed to talk and-and-"

"What did he do?" Miguel interjects and your mouth clamps shut. Tongue feeling too big to even get the words out, "Mi amor, look at me," he doesn't demand it, he pleads, the unexpectedness of it making you look up. When your eyes meet, something seems to click for him, realization flickering in his eyes. There's anger, the kind you never would want directed at you, but then they soften. As if realizing the fury he wanted to unleash wasn't meant for you. Never for you. "Y/N..."

"Don't touch me," you snap at him, regretting it immediately after. Miguel had only taken half a step, but stopped immediately at your command. It hurt him and you could tell, wanting to hold you and comfort you, but unable to. Not when his touch made the memories all the more fresh.

"Ay dios mío..." he mutters, hands going to his hips as he doesn't know what to do with them now. The kitchen goes quiet again, aside from your small sobs. Miguel sets his jaw, something he does when he has something to say, but doesn't know how to. "Did he..?"

"Miguel, please-"

"I know, amor, I know. I don't want to make you talk about it if you're not ready to, but-" he pauses, lips pressed in a fine line, pain etched into his expression. "I just-I have to know. The thought of you getting hurt and I wasn't there to stop it..baby please, for me. I feel like I'm being eaten up from the inside."

You believe him, every word. He was used to being the one to save the day, you couldn't imagine how he felt knowing he wasn't there for who he cared for most. You let out a deep breath to calm down, "No, he didn't," you answer and you can almost see the tension leave his body. At least some of it.

"What do you need? Anything. Let me help you, don't shut me out, please...You've been there for me when I needed you, please let me be there for you, please?" he almost tries to step closer to you, stopping himself like it's the hardest thing he's ever done.

You bite your lip in thought, contemplating what to suggest. Not just for you, but him as well. Miguel was always the one who knew what to do, so the feeling of being unsure was clearly foreign to him. "Honestly, I just want to take a bath."

"A bath? I can do that. Just..give me a minute," he's scrambling, it's a side of him you'd never seen. Miguel shuffling as he remembers how to move, practically running to the bathroom with unnecessary vigor, hissing out some Spanish curses when he clips himself in the side with the island counter. His eagerness has you laughing softly, momentary joy fluttering through you before the weight of your evening sets back in.

The sound of the tub filling, along with the sound of Miguel moving about the bathroom is endearing, the man himself returning to you quickly to let you know it was ready. The set up alone is a comforting sight, the scent of lavender coming from the water, one of your incense candles gently burning. The mirror was fogged up, letting you know that the water was just the right temperature. It was all so simple and yet just what you needed.

Miguel waits beside you with bated breath, the small smile you give him a sign of reassurance. He offers to wait in the living room, hoping you don't send him away to be alone like you had originally intended when you got home, but you stop him.

"I don't want to be alone."

It's contradictory, but he doesn't question it. Doesn't even furrow his brow in confusion like he usually would. The two of you don't speak, Miguel sitting on the floor, back resting against the side of the tub, all while you undress and slip into the welcoming water. You let out an audible sigh of relief, letting the suds surround you as you lie back. After a moment, you glance Miguel's way, seeing that his eyes are glued to the far wall. He's trying to be respectful, you acknowledge, trying to be there for you while also not making you feel even more uncomfortable.

His presence alone is a comfort, the image of an overprotective guard dog making you smile once more. It's a moment filled with comfortable silence, the kind you only ever seemed to find with him. You almost don't want it to end, but the cooling of the water and the pruning on your fingertips lets you know it's time to get out.

"Hey," you say, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder and making him jerk slightly in surprise. He looks over at you expectantly, eyes averting to the side so he doesn't seem like he's staring. "I think calling it early for the night would be good. Put this shitty day behind me."

"Yeah, I agree," he nods slowly, getting to his feet and heading to the door. "I put some clothes on the counter for you, I'll give you some privacy," he points to the said folded clothes, your gaze following his finger.

"Thanks," you smiled at him and he hummed in response. Miguel was being distant, but you knew the intent was to be for your benefit. Give you the space you had asked for earlier and being there when requested. "I'll meet you in the bedroom." It's more of a way to clarify than anything, you were sure Miguel had already resolved to sleeping on the couch tonight. His wariness seems to lessen, stepping a little lighter as he leaves the bathroom.

You take your time with draining the tub, drying off with a towel and slipping into your pajamas. They're comfortable, baggy and soft on your skin. You fall back into your nightly routine of brushing your teeth, washing your face and even popping a melatonin gummy in your mouth just in case.

Miguel is sitting stiffly in your bed, propped up, under the covers and hands folded together in his lap. It's almost comical, how he looks like a teenage boy awaiting the moment he finally loses his V card, but you don't dare tease him about it. Not when he's been so understanding all evening.

Sliding in beside him, you scoot until your thigh touches his, "I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier," you tell him, not sure what else to say.

He doesn't miss a beat, "You have nothing to be sorry for, cariño," he reassures you with ease, hesitantly placing a hand on your thigh over the sheets. When you don't flinch away, he gives it a comforting squeeze. "What're you thinking right now? I can practically hear the gears turning in that pretty head of yours," he attempts to lighten the mood, something you also appreciate.

You scoff, rolling your eyes tiredly, "I don't even know anymore. Everything feels so unreal," you run a hand through your hair, sighing. "I don't know what I'm going to do now. What I'm going to do now, how I'm going to even face him, what's gonna happen at work..."

"Don't worry about that right now," he interjects, "let's just go to bed, like you wanted to. Do you...want me to hold you?"

You nod, Miguel kissing your hairline as the two of you silently adjust until you're in your usual sleeping positions. Miguel on his back, while you slept on your side with one arm and one leg draped over him. One of his arms wrapped under you, a hand resting on your lower back so his thumb could trace small circles into the muscles there. As your body relaxed into his, fitting against his side like it was meant to be there, you felt at peace. At home even.

The firmness of him against your side didn't seem to trigger your traumas anymore, the idea that Miguel and your boss were similar now a distant memory. The fact you had thought of them as so alike seemed silly now. Your boss may be tall, tanned and well built like Miguel, but he wasn't warm like him. His hands had been cold when they violated you, something Miguel's never were. The kind of warmth that seemed to make everything else go away, even if for a moment. The kind that made you feel safe and loved, everything you needed and more. When you needed it most.

Tags: @prettylittlebrowngirl @khaleesihavilliard @leahnicole1219 @edgycatx @qiaipia @melovetitties @thedevax @erissco @leo-lvr@stqrlightrs

[raineandsky]

#116

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

As of yesterday, the worst pain the prince had experienced was when he accidentally nicked his finger with his father’s sword three years ago.

Today, that has been replaced with the red-hot agony of a bear trap snapping shut on his leg.

It wasn’t meant to go like this. Get to the city borders and disappear into the wilderness—that was the plan. It’d seemed such a good plan too, from the comfort of his bedroom. Easy.

Yet here he is, thrown to the floor by merciless, metal teeth. It’s more blood than he’s ever seen in his life. He’s starting to feel faint, though whether that’s the sight of his own mangled leg or the pain jolting through him at the slightest move is unclear.

Darkness is throwing a blanket over the sky. Forcing the trap open has proven fruitless, dragging himself back to the road impossible. Every fibre of him, down to his very soul, is crying to rest, to ease the pain, to just have stayed in his ivory tower prison like he always had.

Something yellow—a light!—ripples through the trees. The prince thinks, for a rather depressing moment, that heaven might be approaching, and the warden has arrived to drag him into death. It would explain why he can’t feel his hands.

“Huh,” says the warden, “that ain’t an animal.”

The light is blinding now, the person behind it haloed invisibly in its spray. The prince can see them turn, kind of, to a figure next to them.

“Well, no.” A gruff laugh. “That’s very much a human person.”

The light lowers slightly, enough to get a glimpse at the people hiding in its shadow. Oh—not the warden. A common woman, in fact, her and an equally common man, staring down at him with varying amounts of surprise and annoyance.

“Hm,” the woman says again, thoughtful. “Looks expensive. D’ya think we’d get much for him?”

The prince’s stomach does some acrobatic somersault that almost makes him throw up. He tries to move, crawl away, anything, but the trap sinks its teeth into his flesh even more, like it's trying to stop him escaping. A cry falls from his mouth, some incoherent mix of terror and agony.

One of them says something, but he can’t hear it. He can’t hear anything; blood rushes in his ears—it’s a miracle he has any left to do such—his breathing hard and laced with irrepressible noises of his own suffering. 

Another laugh as the man steps forward and back into hearing range. “We should probably make sure he ain’t from one of those places that’ll lob our heads off for the crime of looking at ‘im first.”

“He looks like one of ‘em, don’t he?” The woman steps too close. The prince scrambles without thinking, and gets the treat of the teeth gnawing harder into his leg. “Let’s get ‘im home, at least. Get the trap, Skat, and I’ll get the bag ready for it.”

“Skat?” The name rolls off his tongue so easily. Both of the commoners stare at him like they’re startled he can speak at all. “You– you were in the royal guard. I recognise your name.”

The man’s stare has turned to a hard glare in an instant. “Where’d you get that from?”

The prince attempts a smile, but the burning pain ripping through him makes it difficult. “You were one of the top knights in your guild. I– I came down, sometimes, to watch you practise. My father adored you. I adored you.”

“You’re the boy prince?” It comes out almost immediately. A connection made. A recognition. The prince could laugh with relief if he weren’t already crying. He nods quickly. “Wh–What’re you doing out here?”

The woman snorts behind him. “Sounds like a fat sack of cash,” she mumbles.

The man ignores her. “Don’t answer that; it doesn’t matter. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, huh?”

“Are you serious?” The woman scoffs as the man sets his gaze on the bear trap. “We’ve stumbled across our biggest catch yet, and we’re just throwing it away? We could be absolutely minted off him and you want me to just send him on his merry way?”

“Well, Gvette,” the man says flatly, “do you really think anyone’s gonna wanna buy something that looks like it’s been dragged through ten inches of mud?”

That gives her enough pause for Skat to don a smug grin and shoot a quick wink to the prince. “Open the trap, will ya?” he adds.

It isn’t gentle. The woman—Gvette, the prince assumes—rips the trap open and lets its barbed teeth tear through any part of his skin they haven’t already. Skat holds him, almost vice-like, as he squirms and cries against Gvette's heartless freeing of his leg. He can’t help but bury his face into the man’s shoulder when Gvette first wrenches it apart.

Skat grabs his hands to try and help up to his feet. The prince shivers at nothing. “Am—” His voice catches when he puts a little too much weight on his leg. “Am I dead?”

“Well, I ain’t one for talkin’ to spirits,” Skat says brightly, “so I’d assume not.”

“I can’t feel my hands.”

There’s a pause that’s a little too thick. “You’re cold, kiddo. You’ve been lying in an inch of wet mud.”

Gvette takes the prince’s arm, rather reluctantly, as Skat pulls a blanket from his bag. He swings it open and onto the prince’s shoulders in one easy move. “A’ight,” he says as he ushers Gvette away to retake his spot at this side. “Let’s get you warmed up and into some new clothes, maybe.”

So we can get you home hangs unsaid in the air. That, or so we can see how much people are willing to pay for you.

Neither of those are an option.

They might want his leg healed before they try anything. That would give him time, and it’d certainly give him a means of escape.

The prince clings to the old knight, with no other choice, and prays that the man’s warmth to him is true.

(next part)

[lebenspurpur]

Headcanons for slashers (whoever you want) finding their s/o smoking cigarettes after hiding it?

Only if you're comfortable of course, thank you :)

AN: I've added my personal thoughts whether they can roll a ciggy or not because it's hilarious.

RZ Michael Myers

Oh, he does not care. Not even for the fact that you tried to hide it.

Michael grew up in the 90s, I am pretty sure he is used to smoking.

He will however steal your cigarettes now. Not because they're bad for you, no, he just wants to smoke too.

It will be a nice little habit, though, smoking together. Gives you an excuse to cuddle into him for warmth while you're standing outside.

Michael can not roll a cigarette for the life of him, and you can't convince me otherwise. Either he rips the paper or he loses the filter. And they always look tortured.

Cig rolling ability: 1/10

(He gets one point because at least he knows how it works in theory.)

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent isn't bothered by the smoking. What worries him a little is the fact that you tried to hide it.

He tries to assure you that he doesn't mind, in order to hopefully ease your anxieties. After all, he's got a smoking brother already. You won't be much of a bother.

Vincent can roll a cigarette.

Come on, tell me someone with hands as deft as his can't roll a cigarette (Wow, I should stop talking about his hands).

Plus, I think he smoked in his youth as well.

Cig rolling ability: 9/10 (I'm subtracting one point because I refuse to believe he's this good at everything.)

Bo Sinclair

Bo is a smoker. And he'll find it absolutely hilarious that you tried to hide your habit from him.

He will never stop his teasing.

Now that he knows that you share his preference, he can pull so many moves. Bo's the type of guy to light your cigarettes as a flirting method.

He thinks it's hot, you think it's a little ridiculous.

Bo can roll a cigarette, but he applies too much pressure. They look a little squished sometimes.

Cig rolling ability: 7/10

Lester Sinclair

Don't we see Lester smoke in the movie?

I went into heavy research and yes we see him smoke in the movie. IN THE TRUCK, to be exact, which is a crime.

So yes, Lester is a smoker too.

He won't take it too hard that you hid your habit from him, but he still reassures you that he doesn't mind.

He likes smoking with you, in fact.

Please stop him from smoking in the car.

Lester can roll a decent cigarette. Sure, sometimes they lack good structure, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm.

He is the type of lover that will pre-roll cigarettes for you, and it's super sweet.

Cig rolling ability: 7.5/10

Brahms Heelshire

YOU DID WHAT??

I fully believe Brahms has never taken any drug in his life, ever. All his life was spent in the walls, and while his parents seem like expensive whiskey drinkers, he has probably never tried it.

So he's shocked to see his own significant other smoke.

"Don't you know that this can kill you, Y/N?"

He will forbid you to smoke, because he is a little shit brat.

However, he won't really do anything but sulk when you continue your custom. And after a while he gets used to it.

Brahms obviously doesn't know how to roll a cigarette. Not even in theory.

Cig rolling ability: 0/10

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is surprised to see you smoking, but he doesn't mind all that much.

You're your own person, and you've got your habits.

In addition to that, he thinks it's kinda hot.

Thomas has never smoked and probably never will, but if you let him, he will try.

(I tend to think Thomas is a pretty curious, and rather experimental guy because he was denied so many things in the past. Therefor, he tries to catch up with the stuff he missed.)

Nonetheless, he does not like it.

Even so, Tommy will join you when you catch a smoke break, mostly because he wants to keep you company.

Thomas would be capable of rolling a ciggy, if he ever actually tried. I mean, come on, he sews as a hobby, and you got to have pretty skillful hands for that, too.

Cig rolling ability: 2/10

(He's only this low because he never actually tried to roll one.)

Jason Voorhees

Uh oh.

He's not a fan.

Jason will try to make you stop, most likely by finding an alternative that's actually healthy.

If it doesn't work, he'll accept it, but not without a weekly complaint.

Jason would rather die than touch tobacco. He can not roll a cigarette.

Cig rolling ability: 0/10

Otis Driftwood

Otis is also heavily entertained by the idea that you hid this from him.

Except from that amusement, you won't get much of a reaction, though. Otis smokes himself, why would he care if you do?

(I don't actually remember if we ever see Otis smoke, but come on, look at him and tell me this isn't canon.)

Otis can technically roll a cigarette, but they always look horrible. They're very... sloppy.

I also feel like he's the type of guy to smoke rolled cigarettes without a filter.

Cig rolling ability: 3/10

Baby Firefly

I feel like Baby is more drawn to vapes than cigarettes, mostly because those can taste sweet.

She probably owns a pink vape, and her favorite flavor is probably something like strawberry or strawberry cheesecake.

Nonetheless, she doesn't care if you smoke. And she will scold you a little for hiding this from her. Partners are supposed to trust each other, after all.

Baby can roll a cigarette, but it will fall apart in seconds.

Cig rolling ability: 2/10

Josef

Josef is a bit on the wine aunt trip, so he's opposed to everything that goes against his usual diet (smoothies, wok pans and dry red wine, ah and occasionally some dark chocolate).

Therefore, he won't appreciate the cancer sticks, but he'll stick up with them because he likes you.

Sporadically, he'll steal a hit, but that's usually when he's tipsy.

If you ask him if he can roll a cigarette, he'll say yes, but that is a fat lie.

Cig rolling ability: 0/10

Amanda Young

Amanda is torn between amusement and worry when she finds out about your mannerism.

She doesn't necessarily mind cigarettes, but her strong history with drugs influences her opinion a little.

Though, as long as your smoking habit stays reasonable, she won't acknowledge it that much.

Amanda can roll a pretty neat cigarette on a good day, and she will roll for you if you ask her to.

Though, sometimes her hands shake too much to hold the paper properly, and then they all look horrible.

Cig rolling ability: 6.5/10

[avampyone]

Prompt 5: Letter from the Lost Days

Characters: Gabriel Devrau, mentions of Alize Miller ( @crimsonffxiv ) and Arazul De'fleur

Synopsis: As usual, Gabriel enjoys writing letters as a way to wind down from the busy day.

Setting: Sharlayan, Tranquility.

Warning- None

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

It was well into the evening that Gabriel made his way into the small space of his room with a heavy sigh of weariness leaving him. After he had finished all the chores after preparing their evening dinner, he had made sure his father was sleeping comfortably by the fire. It was his favorite place to sleep surrounded by the ample plush of the old brown chair he could recline back in.

A gleam of worry glinted in his eyes that typically contained nothing but his defiant mischief – But here alone now, he felt he could relax and ease himself into the quiet. His father was getting older thus it was harder for him to continue the work as a gleaner with all the physical work involved. The days were always so long – Studies, research, the new activities that he practiced well into the evening apart from what he tended to at home.

A bone deep lethargy gripped him, but it did not stop Gabriel from settling himself at his worn wooden desk littered with drawings of assorted sizes and styles of magitek guns. Alongside these, there were intricate sketches of different mechanical prosthetic limbs that were meant for those who had lost such in war or other accidents- that might be able to have the choice to replace such if they desired to, “If only I can win the title...” He thought of his new dangerous activities. Yet, the benefactor had made promises of a reward at the end that may be an end to all their present worries.

Taking out a fresh sheet of paper, Gabriel groaned to himself when there was the circular imprint of a coffee mug upon it. There was nothing he could do about it and paper was becoming expensive these days. He dipped the pointed end of the sharp writing utensil into the inky black container and began to write:

---

Hey Alize!

It has been about a month since you disappeared without a word. If you receive this any time soon, be sure to write back when you have the time! I know you can manage on your own well enough, but it does not mean your old friend will not worry about you.

I am writing to tell you that life is steadily improving for me! I have joined a group who are interested in assessing the limits of fighters in diverse types of environments and scenarios and their reactions to the elements of danger involved. I admit there is a certain sort of thrill to take part in such myself and have joined in for a fight or two. There was someone who injured themselves the other day, but luckily it was nothing apart from a few scratches.

There will be a tournament coming up to determine a champion and I am optimistic that I should prove to be the winner with as much as I have been practicing. This might be the chance I have to see that my father retires from his job in the gleaner business. In truth, I worry that as his sight continues to fail him that the job will become too dangerous for him to continue.

Please send me all your best luck. I’ve heard Arazul is interested in taking part in the tournament. He’s an arsehole, but even I’ll admit that he’s strong… I’ll need all the luck I can muster to stand against him. The funny thing is he asked me about you the other day...I will bet he misses scowling at the both of us from afar! Hahaha!

Be well my friend till the day we can meet again soon.

XOXO Gabriel Devrau

---

With the letter done, Gabriel folded the paper and placed a golden cactuar stamp to seal on the back he had bought on a family trip to the Golden Saucer. He glanced out the window, lifting the back of his gloved hand to muffle his yawn against to see the sun had already set. He would drop off the letter at the Miller’s tomorrow.

[chiefbeifongcanrailme]

14 & 29 for lin x zekou maybe 🥺👉🏾👈🏾

i miss my babies 👶

Aw, I miss them too! I have incorporated both the prompts.

Thank you for thinking about Zekou!

This occurs somewhere between book 2 and book 3.

Lin threw a couple of ice cubes on, and wrangled the piece cloth together before rushing out of the kitchen.

This was the last time, she swore- just as she had sworn the previous countless times.

She entered the living room to see those two hooligans laughing their stupid United Forces coats away. She rolled her eyes and walked up to them.

"Here," she whispered, handing the makeshift ice pack to the touch more sensible of the two clowns.

"Thanks, Lin," he replied, taking it from her.

Despite being in her own house, Lin felt ill at ease. The two of them, on the other hand, were right at home. At least her and Bumi had known each other their whole life. Zekou, injured and vulnerable feeling comfortable, in her- a stranger's home was wild. But to think, this was Bumi's first time in Lin's home. And, thankfully, he wasn't making a fuss about it. They had known each other their whole lives after all, and Bumi being Bumi would be comfortable in a dragon's nostril on the south pole. Zekou was probably just trying to fit in- that Bumi being comfortable meant that he too could be comfortable too. Zekou wasn't cocky- she knew him enough to draw that conclusion.

"Lin, have a seat. Consider it your own home."

But Bumi sure was cocky.

Lin scoffed and took a seat on the chaise beside Bumi.

"Ow!" Zek winced.

Instantaneously, Bumi placed his palms on her knees. "Should we call a healer?" he asked, those bloodshot eyes piercing into hers.

"I'm fine, Bumi. I just bumped it. It's just a swelling," Zekou interjected.

She looked over Bumi at her injured guest and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry. It doesn't hurt all that much."

"That's because you're drunk. It's going to hurt a lot more tomorrow," Lin offered.

"Then I'll see a healer tomorrow," he replied with a smile.

She had done her part, but she still worried. Head injuries had a way of appearing benign only to turn out serious. She decided she would follow up with him the next day. The swelling on his temple seemed to be easing up with the ice.

Nevertheless, this was the last time she went out drinking with the two of them. Their shenanigans were but a foot step away from landing them in jail- and to think she would probably arrested as an accessory by one of her rookies.

At that point, she'd rather listen to Pema talk about her kids.

"Anyway, I got to take a fat piss now. Lin, bathroom?"

Lin shook herself back to the present and replied, "Yeah, down the hall."

Within seconds Bumi had vanished, leaving an empty seat between Lin and Zek; alone for the second time in all their friendship. Bumi had this way of being omnipresent so when he wasn't physically around, there was a lull- although, in their case, it was still comfortable.

"Is the pain any better?" she asked, moving to the cushion next to his.

"Who knows," he replied with a chuckle. "My head is cold, my hands are cold- everything is numb... And cold."

"Do I have to remind you that you're a firebender?"

Zek snorted. "Won't that melt the ice and make a mess on your expensive couch?"

Lin rolled her eyes. She reached for the ice pack and Zek allowed her to relieve his chilled hands. He winced when the cloth pressed against his forehead and Lin promptly adjusted her grip to rest the ice pack lightly against him.

"No need to be gentle."

"I'm not being gentle," she retorted.

"You are gentle. You like to come across all rough and tumble but you're really just soft, gentle and caring."

Lin scoffed, pressing the ice against him with just enough pressure to make him wince again. "You clearly don't know me."

"I don't," he confessed. "We've been drinking together for weeks on end and I still only know of you what Bumi told has me."

"That's good enough."

"Oh, come on, Lin," he said, clasping her wrists and bringing the her arm down to the couch. Lin placed the ice pack on the coffee table and folded her arms in front of her chest. He continued, "Tell me something about you that I don't know."

"I don't know what you don't know."

"Okay, fair."

He stroked his beard in thought as he studied her sitting in front of him. "Have you and Bumi ever—"

"Nope. Never happened, never will."

Zekou laughed. "I was going to ask if you and Bumi ever had a heart-to-heart. But, it's funny how your mind went there."

"You obviously meant to ask me that."

"You think if you two had ever kissed- let alone had sex, Bumi wouldn't have told me? Or brought it up every time we hung out?"

Knowing Bumi, that would probably be part of the introductory package.

"Fine. Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, we've had one heart-to-heart conversation. But something tells me you already knew this."

"I did. I asked Bumi if you'd ever opened up to him and he told me you did once."

"And you wanted to waste your question on something you already knew," she deadpanned.

"You know, you tell me that Bumi and I are basically the same person. I think, you and Bumi are extremely alike- different sides to the same coin."

"You don't actually believe that!" she said rather defensively.

"He's just as avoidant as you when it comes to sharing personal things or talking about your feelings and dreams, trauma—"

"Oh come on, don't tell me you've been psychoanalyzing—"

Ignoring that, Zek continued. "So, my question to you is: what was that conversation about?"

"Mmmm," she hummed in thought. "I guess I'm just liquored up enough to answer that."

"Enlighten me." He crossed his legs and turned towards her, smile flashing across his face.

"Well, I'm sure you know I was involved with Bumi's brother."

"Yes, the last airbender."

"Right," she swallowed. "It was the night of his wedding. I had a moment of weakness, and Bumi was there. I realized I was going to be all alone- that his wedding meant there was no going back- and I began spiraling. My mother was gone, my sister was pretty much exiled and I had nobody and nothing but my badge left. That's when Bumi arrived with a bottle of champagne. He tried making me feel better by telling me how miserable Tenzin was," Lin let out a grim laugh, "but I knew he was just saying that to make me feel better. We ended up talking all night. About our lives, our jobs, parents and found that we really had a lot more in common than we thought,"

"I was right!" Zek interrupted.

She gave him a slight nod.

"And we realized we weren't actually alone. That him and I will always have our broken legacies tying us together and that's something that would never change. And then acceptance came around. Bumi is never going to be an airbender and the person I once truly loved is never going to be by my side. It was okay to be ourselves and bring enrichment to our lives the way we liked. We didn't need to fit into some mold of expectations. Whatever we're looking for will come find us when the time's right."

"Wow," Zekou said, touched. He placed one hand on hers, knowing she would likely reject the gesture. But her hand stayed under his, especially once he brought some heat to it since it was also cold from the ice pack. "That's- that is sweet. Profound."

"Didn't think I'd spill that much, did you?" she smirked.

"Well, you did outdrink me tonight," he quipped back.

"Do you know me enough now?"

His hand continued to loiter over hers. She was easing up in a way he had never seen before. So when she asked him that, he felt something warm in his chest. So much so that his thumb slowly meandered into her palm and he squeezed her hand softly.

"No," he said with a laugh. "There's still so much I want to learn about you."

Lin rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything, Bumi appeared in front of them. Zekou noticed how quickly she pulled her hand away from his- he was certain Bumi couldn't have seen it.

"I actually passed out in there! How long has it been?"

Lin stood up, hands on her hips. "Long enough. I think it's time to call it a night."

"Aw, really?" Bumi said. "What'd I miss here?"

"Nothing—"

"-seeing if Lin was interested in meeting a swarthy man the next time we go out drinking," Zekou spoke over Lin while giving her a mischievous look.

"No—"

"I think that's a great idea!" Bumi exclaimed. "Lin, pick out your best panties, we're going to get you laid next week!"

"Nope, not happening," the Earthbender called. She grabbed Zekou by the ear and led him over to Bumi, whom she yanked by the collar, and then dragged them both to her main door.

"I'm done with both you of now. Leave," she said.

Both the men laughed. After Bumi's failed attempt at giving her a hug of sorts, she opened the door for him, and Zek followed him out wordlessly.

"Good night, Chief!" they both said together.

"Good night, Commander and a good night to you too, Captain."

Zek decided to leave her with a little wink in return.

Five word prompts from here

[gojobabygirly]

         ﹙HIS OBSESSION﹚

Chapter 01.

"Your father is scum."

"I'm sick of this situation."

"Life is shit, we share the same silliness and shit here. Cheer up girl."

"How the hell can I cheer up?!." You snorted, rolled your eyes away from your two friends who were sitting across from you on the couches, trying to hold back your laments that threatened to fall on your face.

"Yo babe, are you okay?" The other, with light brown hair, demanded as she leaned forward to place her hand on the thigh of the girl who turned her face to the side, pressing her lips into a thin line.

"Y/N... what's wrong with you?." The girl with the dark brown short hair stopped sipping the liquid from her glass cup with furrowed eyebrows.

"My dad brings his bitches day and night he throws them at me and I have to serve his shit all day, he doesn't even give me my money to buy what I want!" You spat angrily.

"Things got worse." You muttered in a shaky voice, letting your tears run down your cheeks, wrinkling your eyebrows.

The white-haired man pulled the glass door back, and his four colleagues came in behind him. To his right walks a man with a huge muscular build, his azure eyes scanning the place.

Sukuna pulled back his pink hair with his tattooed hand, and raised his red eyes to the ceiling to see the multi-colored chandeliers changing every second, comfortable leather larks and boxes of fine alcohol spread out on the huge table in the suite they had booked. place considered him.

They were advancing, but what stopped them was a soft weeping voice with intermittent gasps of a girl, while the two of them quietly muttered to her perfectly fine.

"There is no other solution than this, y/n I know it's hard for you but-"

"What's wrong with your mother's family, your grandmother, who doesn't want you anymore?" They heard another girl's voice, followed by a sniff and another shaky gasp.

"They don't want me! My grandmother only takes care of her filthy pocket, it should be filled with money for life, she told me I'm dependent on her and she can't stand me being in the house, I'm not a grown woman just because I don't cook or serve them all day!.

I can't believe my mother's death ruined my life! Only to this degree because my mother's salary is over, everyone drops his masks, it turns out that all that love is only for my mother's money, sons of a bitch." With a soft voice spitting in anger and pain at the same time, satoru stepped forward to see the three girls' suite next to them.

He uninterestedly moved forward to take his seat on the sofa and leaned back, crossing his muscular arms in front of his broad chest, listening carefully, wondering why he cared about the misery and problems of others, but the voice that attracted him to listen was curious.

He saw a group of his companions spread out on the sofas that formed a circle separated by a large glass table in the middle.

He waved his hand to suguru adjacent suite and the girls' voice, huh? He seems interested, too.

"I don't know now what to do, even part-time jobs are not enough for my expenses." You sigh, raise your hand to carefully wipe your tears from your face.

"There is only one solution and it will bring you money simply and as much as you want." The brown-haired woman stammered, placing her glass on the table and pulling a cigarette from the middle tray of the table in front of you three.

"That's why I'm gay guys! Men are the worst creatures in existence." Lily added after sighing with a laugh.

"Guys, shit, girly would only get pain if she did that." The other beside her muttered, letting out a sigh.

You were playing with your fingers in your lap and staring, your mind was clouded with thoughts, today is your last day in a house because you got kicked out and no one wants you to stay in their house.

"Doll, you look beautiful when you cry." Lily added while pricking your nose with her forefinger, trying to ease your sadness.

"Lily ,Jia, I don't know what to do." You felt your eyes getting wet again, covering your face with your palms, your body feeling cold and numb from crying for days.

The two frowned, trying to calm you from crying for the third time in this place.

"Stop complaining y/n, don't be a crybaby." Jia sighed as her cigarette smoked out of her mouth and stared at the ceiling.

"I'm not a crybaby! Damn it, I'm in great misery and you're here making fun of me?,Where am I going tomorrow?,I got kicked out!." You exploded, taking your hands off your face, staring at her with a reddish face from crying, puffy red lips, a pink nose, puffy eyelids, a wet face with rosy cheeks.

"Hear my words, so that you don't need any of them." She moved her index finger towards you.

"I heard." you talked.

"Work with me." she said.

"what?." You blinked without understanding, you knew, but you refused to reach that idea.

You saw her sigh, put out the ashes of the cigarette on the table and lean back.

"Work with me, sell your body in a night club, or choose a man to sleep with for money, I know you are still young but there is no solution." She said with a blank face, what expressions do you see your eyes turning wide in shock.

"Jia are you crazy!? y/n is still a virgin and a fucking minor!." The other one sitting next to her rocked, staring at her in disbelief.

"I know she's a virgin! Being a virgin will bring her good luck and great fortune!." The other added trying to get you to accept the idea.

"The hell, I wouldn't sell my body for money! Where the hell is my dignity?!." You exploded tightening your jaw.

"Don't talk to me about dignity, do you think we are happy with our situation? We sell our bodies for money and to live! Nobody cares about Y/N!No one! Before you trample on everything or let life trample on you harshly and kill you!."

The other screamed, you flinched your head down, your lips trembled, your tears streamed down your face again, you don't know how sensitive you've been this while if someone wanted to make you cry a thousand times a day you would undoubtedly do.

"The hell you made her cry again, look what you did!" Lily hissed as she let go of her knot and hug her half-exposed chest while stroking your head with one hand, her other hand gently thinking your back.

"I want her to live! I know men are disgusting and scoundrels, but she must live. That old woman will not hesitate to throw her into a forced marriage with any idiot she sees to get rid of her!." The other added while crossing her arms angrily.

"Hey babes ,don't cry, Jia loves you and wants to give you the right solution." Lily spoke while gently patting your head.

"I think I have a good idea,for you y/n, or a good man will Please you very good."

⠀   ㅤ⎯⎯ㅤㅤ      𓇬         ㅤ⎯⎯

[whump-me]

Unseen: Chapter 14

Chapter 14 of Unseen, a novel-length whump story about a ruthless mob heiress and the superpowered assassin she kidnaps and forces to work for her—and the unexpected friendship that develops between them.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the complete novel on Patreon

---

Violet flicked off the TV. Bugs Bunny couldn’t make her laugh today, and she didn’t know why. And all the movies she tried were as boring as they were confusing. Just flickering images passing in front of her face. Meaningless.

The nagging whisper of dissatisfaction wasn’t a whisper anymore. And now it was threaded through with anxiety. A couple of hours ago, she could have sworn she heard a gunshot. Then a big commotion—hurrying feet and raised voices. She had listened at the top of the stairs, but hadn’t been able to make it out any words.

Then the commotion had quieted, with Violet no more enlightened than before.

She kept telling herself it was nothing. If it was important, Yvette would have come to get her. Yvette would have needed her. She hadn’t, so there was nothing to worry about.

But Violet knew what a gunshot sounded like. She had trained with guns. Not as frequently as with up-close weapons—there wasn’t much point in having an operative who would turn invisible if she was just going to stand back and shoot. But she’d had the training, because she needed to know how to use all the tools available to her.

And she knew what a gunshot sounded like from a distance. She knew the sound that came after someone got taken away for recycling—too many red marks, too many worried whispers about instability. That sound meant she wouldn’t see them in training for the rest of the day, or the next day, or ever again.

Maybe Yvette hadn’t come for her because Yvette was dead.

Footsteps on the stairs. Violet went invisible. She eased herself off the couch as quietly as she could and crept toward the stairs.

Who was coming for her? She didn’t know. She needed to know.

If Yvette was gone, Violet had to take care of herself now. And that began with knowing what she was dealing with.

She chastised herself for not having an improvised weapon with her at the ready at all times. She never should have let herself get so comfortable.

But the figure walking upstairs with slow, heavy steps was Yvette. Violet let out a silent breath of relief.

The look on Yvette’s face was enough to tell Violet she hadn’t been wrong about what she had heard earlier, though. Something was very wrong. Yvette’s lips were white, her eyes dark pools of pain. She had taken a shower recently—her hair was dripping all over her expensive shirt.

She smelled like flower soap. Underneath that, she smelled like fear. But her eyes spoke only of grief and a terrifying dark rage.

“Violet?” Yvette’s voice was rough with tears. She looked side to side. “Violet, where are you?”

Violet reappeared. Yvette jerked back, her hand flying to her heart. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that.”

“What happened?” Violet asked, almost in a whisper.

“Someone tried to have me killed.” Yvette’s rough voice took on a flat, emotionless cadence. “Reynold is dead. My… my assistant. My father’s assistant, really.”

The naked hurt on her face as she said his name told Violet he had been more than that. But Violet didn’t ask.

“Then you have a mission for me,” said Violet. “The person responsible. Who are they?” She marveled at the eagerness in voice. It felt like a long time since she had looked forward to a mission.

But was it really the mission she was looking forward to? Leaving her comfortable couch and going out into the night? She didn’t think so. She just wanted to do something to ease the bottomless hurt in Yvette’s eyes.

Why? She didn’t care about Yvette. Yvette was her captor. At best, Yvette was her new handler. And she had never given a second thought to her old handler’s personal life, or any pain he might have felt. He had been part of the machinery of her life, like the straps in the van that held her down, like the alarm that woke her every morning.

But Yvette shook her head. “I don’t know who’s responsible yet. There was a meeting. Someone at the meeting had to have been in contact with the assassin. He told them when I left the room, and where to find me. He probably planned it ahead of time. But there were too many people there. It could have been any of them.”

“What do you need?” Violet asked, frowning in confusion. Maybe… maybe Yvette had known Violet was scared, after all the noise earlier. Maybe she had come to let Violet know everything was okay.

Only it was plain to see that nothing was okay. And Yvette didn’t look like she was in a position to reassure anyone.

Instead of answering, Yvette pushed past Violet into the living room, where she sagged onto the couch. Violet, unsure of what she was supposed to do, followed her in but remained standing. She clutched her hands together in front of her, and squeezed them together like her palms were giving each other a hug.

There were a lot of hugs on TV. She couldn’t remember ever getting one herself. They looked nice. They looked warm.

Yvette closed her eyes. They stayed closed. Had Yvette fallen asleep?

Violet had just started to creep out of the room when Yvette spoke. “You said you were created for the work you do,” she said. “You’ve never thought about doing anything else, have you?”

“Why would I?” Violet asked. “This is what I do. It’s what I’m for.”

“But how do you know that?” Yvette’s eyes opened. The grief and rage there shifted aside to make room for an anguished question. “How do you know this is what you want to do with your life?”

Violet squeezed her hands together harder. An instinct buried deep in her gut screamed threat. Yvette was her captor. Yvette controlled her fate. And right now, Yvette wasn’t making sense.

Yvette wanted something from her, and Violet didn’t know what. Like an impossible demand made in training. The kind of thing that would earn you either congratulations for seeing through the trick question, or a red mark on your file for not understanding something that should have been obvious.

“I don’t know what it means to want to be what I am,” Violet answered. “It just… it just is.”

“But now you’ve had a taste of freedom. You know there’s more to the world than PERI.”

Impossible to reply without telling Yvette this wasn’t freedom. Impossible to risk offending her captor by speaking that truth. “My purpose hasn’t changed,” she finally said. “Only my situation. Freedom doesn’t mean not doing the work I was created for.”

“Because that’s what I brought you here to do,” Yvette muttered, her voice so low Violet wasn’t sure whether she was meant to hear it. “You were trained to obey orders, and I gave you orders.”

Was it Violet’s imagination, or were the walls of the room slowly closing in? Violet tried not to shiver at the wobble in Yvette’s voice, and said nothing.

Yvette stared into her eyes. The cold, steady calm Violet was used to seeing there was gone. Shattered. “If I were to let you go right now,” he said, “would you choose to be something besides an assassin?”

The question sped up Violet’s pulse until she felt dizzy. She imagined herself back in that restaurant, frozen, helpless. Alone.

Or was that a flicker of the old excitement she was feeling?

Did she want to hide under the bed until Yvette took her question back? Or did she want to twirl in the moonlight?

“I… I don’t know how to live out there in the world,” Violet admitted. “Not on my own.”

“I’m not sending you out there,” Yvette said. Violet came back to earth with a heavy thud. The floor was steady under her feet again. Solid. She wasn’t sure if that heavy feeling was reassurance or disappointment.

“I just want to know what you would do,” said Yvette. “Who you would be.”

“Why?”

“Answer the question. Please.” Yvette’s voice was almost frantic, like her life depended on the answer. “If you had a choice—a real choice—would you do what you do now?”

Violet knew Yvette didn’t mean lying on the couch and watching cartoons. She meant the only part of Violet’s life that mattered. The only part that made her worth something.

“It’s who I am,” she said, still not quite understanding what Yvette was getting at.

“Why?” Yvette pressed. “What makes you an assassin? Why couldn’t you choose to be something else?”

“I was bred to be a PERI operative,” said Violet. “My ability and my fast reflexes made assassination an ideal fit for me. I’ve trained for it since I was five years old.” She frowned. “Why are you asking me this?” she dared to ask.

Yvette shook her head. The anguish in her eyes turned—strangely—to shame. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.”

Tears leaked from her eyes. She swiped a hand angrily across her face and turned away.

“Just tell me what you need,” said Violet. “I want to help.” She wasn’t sure why she wanted to help so badly. She just knew she did.

“I didn’t realize just how alone I was,” she said. “Not until Reynold was gone, and I had no one left.” She gave a harsh sniff. “Why am I telling you this? You don’t want to hear it. I’ll come back when I have a target for you.” She pushed herself up off the couch.

Scarcely understanding what she was doing, Violet took Yvette’s hand. Yvette’s fingers were cold, her skin slick with tears. Violet sat slowly, and eased Yvette down with her. Yvette didn’t resist.

Violet held her hand a couple of seconds longer. Then she let go, unable to shake the certainty that a guard would appear and put them both in the punishment room. Unnecessary touch wasn’t allowed.

“You don’t have to apologize,” said Violet. “If what you need is something to talk to, then… then you can talk to me.”

“That hardly seems fair to you.” Yvette swept her hand across her eyes again. “You’re a prisoner. I caged you like an animal and asked you to kill for me. You shouldn’t have to listen to me whine at you on top of all that.” She shook her head. “He told me not to do it, you know.”

“Do what?” Violet asked.

“Steal you from PERI.”

She hadn’t called it rescue this time. “I’m glad you did,” Violet admitted softly. “It’s… it’s the same work. That part isn’t any different. But… everything else is different. Better. I can eat whenever I want, and sleep whenever I want, and watch TV, and… and things are comfortable.”

“You’re not free, you know,” Yvette said without looking at her. “That was a lie.”

“I figured that out,” Violet said. “But…” Her voice trailed off. How could she put words to something she didn’t understand herself? “But I like the couch,” she finished inadequately. “And I like the cookies. And Bugs Bunny.”

Yvette let out a soft laugh. There was more sadness in it than happiness.

“Reynold thought I should walk away from the Couvillion Syndicate,” Yvette said after a long silence. “He thought the only reason I stayed was because I don’t know enough about the world to choose something else.”

“What’s the Couvillion Syndicate?”

Yvette’s head turned sharply to her again. She stared. “You don’t know?”

“All I know is where I came from, and now this house,” Violet reminded her.

That didn’t lessen the shock on Yvette’s face. Shock shot through with shame. “This house is the Couvillion Syndicate,” said Yvette. “Or it might as well be. It’s my father’s organization. Now it’s mine. It’s who you’re working for. I really didn’t tell you any of this?”

“Why would you have? It wouldn’t have affected my work.” Joss had never told her the reason behind any of her missions.

Yvette stared at her a moment longer. “Anyway,” she finally said, “I think that’s why I came to you. Because I don’t have anyone else, which is kind of pathetic, isn’t it?” Her laugh sounded like broken glass. “But also because you only know one thing, just like me. I wanted to know… how you felt about that. Whether you ever thought you might want something different.”

Reluctantly, Violet shook her head. “I can’t help you. You belong to the outside world. People in the outside world get a choice. PERI operatives don’t. From the moment PERI chose my DNA sources and created me from an embryo, I was only meant for one purpose.”

There was a look in Yvette’s eyes now that Violet didn’t understand. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

Violet wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. With how volatile Yvette was right now, Violet thought it was probably best not to ask.

“Let me know when you have a new target for me,” Violet said. “That’s something I’ll be able to help with.”

Maybe that would make the nagging dissatisfaction go away. Maybe if she had a reason to leave the comfort of Yvette’s house. Maybe if she knew she could do something besides eat and sleep and watch TV and take the occasional break to kill.

She could help Yvette feel better. She wanted to help Yvette feel better.

Yvette nodded. “I’ll do that,” she said, standing up before Violet could reach for her hand again. “I’ll leave you alone until then. I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Violet said. But Yvette was already rushing out of the living room and down the stairs, swiping at her eyes once more.

---

Tagged: @suspicious-whumping-egg @whump-kitty @violets-whumperflies

Ask to be added or removed from taglist.

[veradragonjedi]

👕:16, 🌤: 3, 4, and 13, 🤝: 7, 20 for maxwell 👀

:D MAXWELL LUKAS BABEY

👕16. Is your character's appearance more telling or deceiving?

Telling, honestly! Not that there's a lot of people to tell. He's a sailor, or in training to be one, so he's often wearing the uniform, or oceanic-themed outfits. When he isn't, he's wearing something unnecessarily expensive... and that's very very telling.

🌤3. What season would your character say they're most similar to?

Okay, this one is interesting because I think I would say winter, and so would literally everyone around him, but Maxwell? He may have to think about it, and he may even end up describing autumn instead. Something cold and crisp, that makes its way from heat and takes control regardless of what people want, but with the beauty of the dying leaves, and the deceitful comfort of holidays, family, and early nights. Shrug! :)

🌤4. Is there a natural phenomenon that scares your character?

The patron that his family worships takes the form of mist settling over an open sea, or soft, all-enveloping clouds that choke you and hide you from others. So, I think he'd be chill with those. Volcanoes?? Man I'm sure they'd at least freak him out.

🌤13. What element best represents your character?

It's funny, the train of thought I had here. Are we looking for one of the traditional earth, fire, water, air ? If so, water, probably. Smooth, cold, manipulative, vengeful, confident, and unpredictable. However, I also thought "the elements", like, outdoors. In which case, mist! Or fog, or rain. Then I thought about the Elements, from the hit show the Periodic Table, and so I thought of silver, or carbon. One is useless, doesn't conduct electricity, malleable, but expensive if kept pristine, and the other is dangerous, able to latch itself onto groups of other elements, such as oxygen, with ease and difficult to remove, but — again — expensive when formed into a specific shape (diamond).

🤝7. Who is your character most honest with?

Probably his uncle, Peter, by choice, and his other uncle, Elias, by accident. Peter is flesh and blood and shares similar motivations, ideals, while Elias has the convenient power of Knowing every thought that enters his dear nephew's brain. It sucks but it's life, and Elias isn't there half the time before his death, so it doesn't matter to Maxwell. I wouldn't say that he and his uncles are close, but I would say that Maxwell finds an irritating sort of comfort with people of the same mind. Maxwell wants to control the world and believes that the god his family worships, the Lonely, should rule, and Peter isn't eager to dissuade him... for obvious reasons.

🤝20. What would it take for your character to get into a fight?

A looooot... Maxwell is clever about the way he negotiates and mediates situations, making the fact that he is essential to any operations that he is involved in front and centre. He twists the minds of his companions (or at least, one of their's) into believing that he is absolutely necessary to their plans if they want to have any hope of rescuing one, preventing an apocalypse, and keeping themselves alive, as he knows the most about the fourteen gods and their various rituals and powers. He is excellent at keeping himself just useful enough, without doing too much, in order to stay in circles where he can see that his goals are achievable. It takes over a year for his patience with the others to wear thin! Plus, eventually, he is beaten to death with a crowbar, so he probably isn't very good with weapons anyway.

@airlocksandaviaries @many-legged bc you love my irritating man.

[anyon-else]

Goodbyes (The Hunger Games pt. 2.5) | Dabi comes to see you and Keigo one last time before you leave for the games. He finds that goodbyes are harder when you never expected them. – spotify playlist | read on ao3

Pairings | Hawks | Keigo Takami x Reader, Dabi | Touya Todoroki & Reader, Dabi | Touya Todoroki & Hawks | Keigo Takami

Warnings | angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of abuse, mentions of sexual harassment

Author’s note | i hope i do dabi justice in this. it’s a bit more emotional than i think he’d ever get so it might be slightly ooc, so let me know what you think and feel free to leave me constructive feedback about my characterization! also this (and other .5 chapter) are not necessary to read to understand the overarching plot, they just give some insight into the lives of the side characters, and i think they’re fun to write.

Word count | 1.6k

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As Dabi looked at you for what could have been the last time, he felt at a loss for words. You were devastated, not even noticing him as he fought an internal battle about whether or not to stay, what to say to you, how to approach you. He’d never really seen you like this. You and Dabi were close, closer than he was to most people, but Keigo was always the one who supported you when you felt like this. It wasn’t something Dabi excelled at.

But Keigo wasn’t here.

“Y/N,” he said carefully. You raised your head, finally seeing that you weren’t alone anymore. He watched as you tried to compose yourself, to put on your carefully cultivated mask of indifference. It wasn’t enough to keep him from seeing the cracks. Your eyes were bloodshot, and tear tracks stained your face. Fresh tears continued to fall down your cheeks, retracing the lines down to your chin before falling onto your closed fist.

“Hi Dabi,” you gave him a weak smile, barely glancing at him before your gaze was directed back at the wall to your left. Towards Keigo’s adjoining room. 

“Look, I...you know I’m not good at stuff like this,” he started, hoping that he hadn’t completely blown his goodbye speech only one sentence in. Your small smile, this one more genuine than the last, motivated him to continue. You wouldn’t get a goodbye poem and a teary-eyed hug from him, and both of you knew that. It was a familiarity that you craved, and a comfort in itself. Dabi was solid and strong and wouldn’t do anything to surprise you. Not like the games.

Not like Keigo.

“I want you to know that I’ll be rooting for you guys. I’ll watch every day, and if you ever start to feel like there’s no hope...just know that I’m there, on your side.”

You nodded, eyes meeting his and finally, finally, he saw a glimmer of light in them. Some form of hope instead of the overwhelming fear and guilt that hadn’t seemed to leave you since Keigo volunteered. He couldn’t help but smile. 

“You’re my best friend,” you finally whispered, voice weak and cracked. This was it. This was goodbye, “I’ll get him back to you, Dabi. Just take care of him after. Please.” 

He knew that you would do this. That you would already be planning for Keigo’s survival at the expense of your life. It still felt like a punch in the gut, like all of the air was stolen from his lungs. You didn’t deserve this. Neither of you deserved this.

“I will,” his voice was quiet, though it still felt like a jolt to his system. He knew that an acceptance was the only thing that would release the tension in your shoulders, if only for a moment. It was the only thing he could think to do to ease some of your pain. Some part of Dabi felt like you’d passed that pain on to him, and now he held the weight of your fleeting life in his hands. It was a fragile thing, bound to the lives of twenty-three other children. Bound to the life of Keigo, the one person whose life you valued above anyone else's.

He briefly wondered if he should tell Keigo about your plans to keep him alive and end the game with him as the winner, but thought it would be better to keep it to himself. He’d told Keigo many of your secrets over the years, a fact that he wasn’t proud of, but this one was different. This one was about life and death. It was about bringing Keigo back alive.

He felt relieved. Then he immediately felt guilty. You were his friend too.

Before he could react, you stood from the rickety bench and threw yourself against him, arms wrapped tight around his middle. He felt you trembling and automatically lifted his arms, one hand reciprocating the hug and the other holding the back of your head, pressing it into the soft fabric of his jacket. 

“Try not to die, Y/N. If something happens to him...”

You shook your head, fingers digging into his back in a silent plea that he not continue on. Not speak the possibility of Keigo’s death into existence. But he had to. He had to know that you would fight to the end, even if you lost everything.

“If something happens, you have to come back. Okay? I know it’ll be hard, and you’ll want to grieve, but come back to me, and I’ll be there for you. I can support you if you come back to me.”

He pressed his lips against the top of your head, cursing himself when tears blurred his eyes. This was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid when he decided to accept your and Keigo’s friendship. Vulnerability felt like a disease to him, and you and Keigo both brought that part of him out. A part of himself that he hated.

But then you nodded against him, and hope bloomed in his chest for the first time since your names were called, and he felt a bit lighter than he had when he stepped in the room.

“I can’t lose you both.”

Keigo looked the same as he had on the stage. Dabi wouldn’t have been surprised if his expression had been frozen into one of easy indifference since he volunteered in Shinsou’s place. He was a prisoner of his own mind. Dabi felt helpless all over again.

“Keigo–” 

“Dabi,” his friend interrupted, standing up so suddenly that Dabi took an involuntary step back towards the door, eyes wide at the intensity of Keigo’s movements. Keigo stopped when he was less than a foot from Dabi, eyes determined, “I need you to do some things for me when I’m gone.” 

When he’s gone. Not while he’s gone, not until he gets back...when. 

He must’ve had the same self-sacrificing ideas that you did. 

“Alright.” 

“First, you need to watch after Eri,” he said, eyes locked on Dabi’s. Dabi wasn’t surprised that these requests involved the others in the district. Keigo was something of a hero within your small community. He was always the first to throw himself into the ring, even at his own expense. He was selfless to a fault. 

Except when it came to you.

“Why?”

“She’s not safe with Chisaki. I don’t have any proof, but just watch out for her and you’ll see what I mean. She always walks around with bruises on her arms, and she’s jumpier than other kids her age. Just make sure she stays safe.” 

Keigo took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shinsou,” he nodded to himself, “Aizawa will be gone during the games, and he sometimes gets bullied when he’s here on his own. If you’re around when the kids are all walking to school, no one will bother him. Just until Aizawa comes back.” 

“Just Aizawa?” 

Keigo ignored him. 

“And keep an eye on Mineta. I’ve heard he’s a creep and keeps harassing the girls in his class. If you catch him doing something, just...I don’t know, scare him enough that he doesn’t do it again.” 

In all honesty, Dabi had never heard of this Mineta kid and had no idea where to start with the ask, but he nodded anyways. These could realistically be his best friend’s dying wishes. He could figure it out on his own. 

“I-I can’t think of anything else. I know there’s more, I just...my mind is–” 

“It’s fine,” Dabi cut in quickly, watching as Keigo’s indifference melted into misguided panic, “we’ll all be fine. I’ll take care of things.” 

It might not have been the truth. Dabi hoped he wouldn’t fuck this up. 

“I trust you.” 

Fuck. Dabi didn’t deserve that trust. He’d probably only make it a day before he gave up following through on his promises. He wasn’t a hero, not like Keigo. He couldn’t save his best friends. He couldn’t save his little brother. What good was he to the district?

“Don’t get killed,” Dabi offered, trying to think of anything else even remotely helpful to offer Keigo, but both of them knew that there were a lot of things that could go unspoken between them. Anything that Dabi could’ve said, Keigo already knew. 

“I’ll try.”

Hugging Keigo was different than hugging you. Your hugs were firm. He felt like falling apart wasn’t an option when you wrapped your arms around him. That if you were there, he’d be able to stand against anything.

Hugging Keigo was softer. Keigo melted when he hugged, like it was the last time he’d ever get to do so. He’d seen it millions of times when you and Keigo embraced, and now he was on the receiving end of it.

It was a first for him from both of you, and he found himself wishing that the first time wasn’t likely to be the last. He was always adamant about his aversion to physical affection, but now it felt like he’d just received a gift, only for it to be ripped from his arms. He tried keeping a tight hold of it, desperate to keep it safe, but it was too late. It didn’t belong to him now. 

It only took a day for him to forget the exact feeling of how both of you had hugged him, and he mourned that loss first. That same day, he began to prepare himself for more loss to come.

[tzigone]

Rewatched Dirty Dancing for the first time in at least a decade

Rewatched Havana Nights, too. I've seen the original mores time, but it's been at least a decade since I've seen either.

Of course, the story is a moment in time and ends there. But people like "what happened next" and I totally went to look for fanfic on it, I admit. Way too many "she's pregnant" stories - hell no. Johnny should not have trouble getting condoms at that time in history and given Penny's recent trauma, I just don't really buy them not using birth control.

But what do I think would happen? Well, I want my couples together. But what do they do, besides be in love? I will say Baby and Johnny are part of the formation and growth of each other and each other and the the events influenced their world views in ways that would linger forever, even if they didn't stay a couple. But I'd keep 'em together, because I'm a sucker for happy ending.

I admit to not watching all that closely this time around, so may have missed details telling us what they might want.

Did Johnny really truly love dance in the sense of wanting it as a career? I know Penny said it was all she ever wanted to do - not sure if she was being honest about it. If I made one really have success at it, it'd be her, I think.

I remember how Johnny felt about about Baby's father helping Penny. Now, yes, saying he's nothing is part of his own skewed view of his own worth. But would he like to be able to do something "important" because it's what he wants, instead of just for the regard it would grant him? That ability to help, and the willingness that Baby had to do so, are something he so admires, and doe he want to emulate it?

I do think Johnny has both desire and disdain for that upper middle class lifestyle (indeed, some of the disdain at, least, is envy-driven, though some deserved, as well). The security, the comfort, the women who take care of themselves and smell nice and all the "softness" and ease are have their appeals. I don't know if he could accomplish it - college isn't expensive then (well, depending on where you are), but affording to live while you are at school is an entirely different thing. And I'm not sure his pride or sense of "rightness" would allow for college-graduate wife Baby paying his way through later (and, of course, he'd be older). College is by no means a necessity, though. But what flavor of meaningful work would suit and please him?

Anyone else think his uncle might be better off than his own folks - union painter/plasterer would not be bad pay (though it depends on how many weeks work there are each year, and, of course, is blue collar).

Baby. Frances. She grew up so much. She went from viewing her father as almost perfect to realizing he was a (still good) man with his own flaws and biases. She learned you can't always change the unjust things, but trying matters anyway. But she's not as naive anymore. It's obviously important that she not give up wanting to help - to make the world a better place. But it's the method of it, I'm curious to. Will she be a lawyer or economist or something else? Certainly, I don't expect her to live in the same sort of "bubble" she grew up in - with the idea that "those people" are "other" - that it's good to help, but that they occupy different social spheres. So I do think she'd want a more mixed (economically, socially, racially) environment and social circle in her adulthood. Does she still go for the Peace Corps or for more mundane help at home? The world and youth culture change so much in the next few years (though we have to be mindful that the actual sixties had a whole lot boring, non-activist, traditional life-style young people), and how is she affected by those changes? Don't want her the cynic.

Then for Havana Nights, there's a whole other pickle with the political elements and consequences. Javier is hopeful for a brighter future. And Castro was quite popular for a quite a while, and there really were significant improvements in life for many. But he not a proponent of violence, and the executions, imprisonments, and setting folks up to spy on each other will not endear him. So how long until he leaves, and what does he do when he does? He's devoted to his family and is the major financial provider for his mother and nephew. Having dependents makes so much more difficult. Will he get leave for the US? Will he get his family there, too or just send remittances? And his brother is a whole 'nother can of worms. Even if he does come to the US, he absolutely not going to mesh well with the earliest/first-wave emigrants, who favor Batista like US influence over Cuba.

Katey is very much the typical teen in that she no idea what she wants to do with her life. She doesn't have a "direction" or dream job or anything like that. Still very much finding her way. Just with broader horizons after her experiences. And far more cognizant of of the impact of politics. Don't know what I'd have her do.

[jacquelinemerritt]

Final Fantasy VII: Machinabridged Episode 5 Review

Originally posted on October 22nd, 2015

Cloud prepares to dress as a woman, and nobody seems to mind.

If you’ve been following my blog for a while, it is likely that you’ll recall that in my review of Dragonball Z: Abridged Episode 15, I criticized Team Four Star for their handling of a character meant to represent trans and masculine women, who after having her gender revealed was subject to many demeaning jokes that sent the message of the inadequacy of women who don’t conform to traditional expectations of femininity (a critique that I still hold to).

And then, you might recall that KaiserNeko, one of the lead writers and editors for DBZA, reblogged my review of that episode, apologizing and explaining that they had mishandled the representation of women like Dodoria unintentionally, and their focus was solely on keeping the situation in character.

I bring this up now because Final Fantasy VII: Machinabridged Episode 5 does an excellent job at showing just how much Team Four Star has grown as writers since the release of DBZA Episode 15, wiping away any concerns I had about how they would handle this part of the story.

See, Final Fantasy VII contains, as an incredibly important part of its plot, a sequence where Cloud must cross-dress and pose as a woman in order to rescue Tifa, and I was worried that the over-the-top caricatures present throughout most of this series would carry over into their handling of the cross-dressing sequence, which could easily lead to harmful jokes at the expense of trans and gender-nonconforming people.

Takahata101 nails it from the very beginning though, and this happens in part due to the presence of Aerith, whose unbridled optimism and supportiveness has her leading Cloud gleefully through the transition process, where someone like Tifa or Barrett would have immediately rejected the idea.

It’s also incredibly meaningful that Cloud is the one to suggest that he cross-dress; while he makes the comment that he could do so off-handedly, it still suggests that posing as the other gender isn’t outside of his comfort zone, and the ease with which Aerith convinces him to go for it provides more evidence for this, and it is finally fully proven that Cloud desires this when he justifies cross-dressing in the terms of how much better than Tifa he would look while he saved her.

It’s also important to note the positive reactions of Giuseppe and the Church of Brodin to Cloud’s desire. Giuseppe has great dresses all around, but as soon as he realizes that it will be Cloud’s first dress, he abandons the rest of his work in order to make the best dress of his life just for him.

Similarly, the Church of Brodin are planning on forcing Cloud into a masculine challenge of strength to obtain a wig, but when they find out that he wants the wig for the sake of (in Aerith’s words) “becoming a woman,” they give it to him without the contest, claiming that it is not their place to question or challenge his lifestyle choice.

It’s interesting as well that the wig, which normally might be seen as an object denoting femininity, has been adopted by a church of ripped, masculine dudes as a symbol of their god’s masculinity, which is a fairly clever inversion of expectations.

Finally, when the members of the Church of Brodin give Cloud the wig, and Squaticles says that no one has the right to discriminate against another person’s lifestyle, Cloud says that he feels that context is needed. Now, I’m just a girl running a film criticism blog and mostly writing about abridged series, but I can’t help but wonder if, just perhaps, that’s a nod to my criticism of DBZA Episode 15. Maybe I’m being a bit presumptive here, but it would actually be pretty amazing if that were the case, as I’d have a definitive example of my writing having an effect on the world, and who doesn’t want that?

Rating: 5/5

If you enjoyed this review, consider supporting me on Patreon.

Stray Observations

I do feel I should add a brief addendum pointing out that crossdressing and being a trans or masculine woman are not the same, but the handling of gender non-conformity in this episode is still excellent.

Cloud: “Aerith, it would appear to me that Tifa has been kidnapped by a Mafia leader with the intention to give her the sex.” Aerith: “Oh no, she can’t do that ‘til she’s married!”

“Am I, the owner of my own store, sure that I have anything else besides drugs? Noooo, I’m pretty sure.”

[mbti-notes]

I am an ESTP and I want to know whether it is possible/healthy to eschew certain societal values that don't match my own. For example, I don't value or care to dress up or wear makeup, I like a clean simple look that is low fuss/effort. However, I see others put more effort into their appearance and be rewarded for this, and this makes me want to do so as well, even though deep down I really don't care. I also find I respect myself less for giving in to societal pressures at the expense of myown

How old are you? It is normal for people in adolescence and young adulthood to struggle with issues of personal identity. Specifically, it is not always easy to find the right balance between staying true to oneself and meeting the expectations of others. Some people get trapped in either/or thinking that easily becomes too extreme.

ESTPs who only care about what they want and never think about what larger negative effect they're producing are unhealthy ESTPs, misusing their judging functions in service of a shallow, lazy, or careless Se approach to life. If you truly care about yourself and hope to feel some pride in who you are, you wouldn't want to be a negative version of yourself, and you wouldn't want to present a negative image of yourself to the world.

Ideally, ESTPs should use their powers of reason to establish the right balance between self and others, which is related to proper Ti and Fe development. In order for ESTPs to genuinely "care" about doing something, they have to understand the reasoning behind it and agree with it - this is how one arrives at better Ti-Fe balance. Sometimes, when a situation is complex, you might have to take extra steps to truly understand it. You would have to consider all the different factors and all the different ways of looking at the situation - this requires Ni big-picture visualization powers.

Taking your example of dress: On one hand, as an individual, you ought to be free to choose your own style and wear what is in accordance with your comfort, beliefs, and values. On the other hand, you are a participant in relationships with others and what you do has a larger effect, even when you don't realize it. The way you dress projects an image and that image influences how people evaluate and relate to you. Of course, how people evaluate you matters much more in some situations than others, so it's not just "to care or not to care", as though the complexity of life can be distilled into one rule. Remember: Ti values the process of coming to a rational judgment, which requires deliberation and some nuance. To develop mature use of Ti requires you to use your reasoning skills more carefully to determine the best judgment based on the situation at hand.

Imagine going to an office job interview in a swimsuit. Imagine what society would look and feel like if everyone wandered around in their pajamas all day. There is a social element of dress because the way you present yourself contributes to the overall vibe of a social environment. The vibe is real because it has a very tangible effect on how people think, feel, and behave. People dress professionally at the office because employers want to encourage professional behavior, employees want to maximize their chances of making a good impression, and clients/customers want to be assured of professional conduct. People dress casually at the neighborhood restaurant because they want everyone to feel at ease and enjoy themselves. People dress in dark shades at a funeral in order to express their sadness/grief on a somber occasion. People dress up for their dates to show that they care enough to make an effort for love.

While dress is largely a personal choice, if you understand that there is an element of dress that extends beyond you and impacts others, then a reasonable person would try to find the appropriate middle ground, wouldn't they?

To reconcile self with others isn't about "me vs them" (oversimplistic either/or thinking). It's about choosing the most constructive ways of being yourself (maximizing the benefits).