#also I am finally behind on my days rip

[crazymecjc]

shuake week day 5 - fantasy au

[thatnewweeb]

Childhood Sweethearts | Bakugo Katsuki

Summary | You moved to America when you were young, having to leave behind your childhood sweetheart. After moving back to Japan, you'll find out if things have changed between you two

Content | Fluff, honestly I can't think of any warnings for this so let me know if you see anything that needs a warning

Word Count | 1.7k+

A/N | I love the idea of Bakugo being in love with someone through his whole life, I have no idea why. At the time of posting, I wrote this forever ago

It had been almost 5 whole years since you moved away. You missed home. It wasn't like you'd wanted to move away in the first place, but your dad's job took you away from Japan all the way to America.

Finally, at 18 years old, you finally convinced your parents to allow you to move home. Having attended an elite hero school for the past 2 years, you managed to have some special arrangements made for your return home.

And so, that is how you got to where you are now, nervously walking down the halls of UA next to Principal Nezu. He had spent the first half hour of the morning before classes began showing you around and explaining a few things to you.

At the start of homeroom at 8:25AM, he walks you to the classroom of Class 3-A, the class you will be joining, starting today.

Everyone looks over as the door opens, the principal strolling in and standing at the front of the class. You follow nervously. These people have had nearly 3 whole years to get to know each other, and here you are, the new girl joining in the final year, not knowing anyone.

At least, you didn't think you knew anyone, until you force yourself to look at the class properly.

Your eyes immediately fall on a blond boy in the second row. His own eyes are widened, locked onto you. A moment later, you rip your eyes away from him, prompting him to look away also.

When you realise Nezu has stopped speaking and is now looking at you, you snap out of it and look at the whole class.

"My name is Y/N. I have two Quirks, which I am sure I will have more time sometime soon to explain. I look forward to spending this year with you." You say and bow slightly to the class.

Your homeroom teacher, Aizawa, points you to your assigned seat, so you sit down quietly, not saying another word.

It isn't until lunch, almost four hours later, that you say anything else, besides answering questions in class. Your fourth period was English with Present Mic. Having lived in an English-speaking country for almost 5 years, it was quite an easy class for you.

Almost as soon as you are dismissed from class, you're surrounded by people, wanting to talk to you, get to know you. You're fine with that, but you did have someone else you wanted to talk to. They already walked out the door though.

"Y/N!" Someone says, popping up in front of you out of nowhere.

"Izuku!" You smile, excitedly throwing your arms around your old friend.

You see a brown-haired girl blushing as she watches you hugging Midoriya.

"I can't believe you're here! I didn't know you were coming back!"

You nod. "I know, I'm sorry I didn't say anything."

He shakes his head, wanting to reassure you. "It's okay! We fell out of touch, that's not anyone's fault."

Izuku invites you to spend lunch break with him and his friends, being introduced to them all, him explaining a little about how he got into UA at all.

After classes have finished for the day, you don't give Bakugo the chance to run. As soon as you're dismissed from class, you walk over to his desk, standing in front of it and resting your hands on the surface.

"It's nice to see you again, Katsuki." You smirk.

He looks up at you from his chair briefly, quickly looking away. “Yeah, it is.”

You lean down so you’re closer to his height, him still avoiding eye contact. “Would you mind walking me back to the dorm? I haven’t actually been there yet, Nezu didn’t have time to take me.”

He tuts but stands up, picking up his bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Not saying a thing, he leaves the classroom, you following him. You know what he’s like, you know to follow.

As soon as you're out of the halls and outside, he decides to say something. "I didn't know you were coming back." He mutters.

You're just happy to hear him say something to you. "Yeah. I know."

He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

You pause where you are, stunned. You hadn't expected him to apologise to you.

When you don't say anything, he sighs and turns to you, also stopping walking. "I shouldn't have stopped responding. I was upset you were gone, and I went about things in the stupidest way. I... I regret it."

It takes a moment for you to say anything, blinking in shock. "It's okay." You smile brightly up at him. "I understand. It was hard on both of us, after all."

"Yeah, but I ghosted you. I shouldn't have done that. Not to you, you don't deserve that."

"I agree you shouldn't have done it, dummy. But I'm saying I understand, okay?"

He smiles a little, looking down at you. "Come on, let's go to the dorms." He tugs on your backpack, indicating that you should take it off. When you do, he slings one strap over his shoulder, carrying it for you.

"Since when did you become a gentleman?" You ask with a small laugh, making him grunt a 'shut up' to you, his cheeks going slightly pink.

Finally reaching the dorms, Bakugo opens the door for you, letting you into the large building.

Everyone else is already there, the people in the communal area looking at you as you enter. Other than Izuku, people seem a little surprised to see you with Bakugo, and even more surprised that he doesn't look as annoyed as he typically does.

With everyone staring, Katsuki shoves your bag back into your arms before walking over to the stairs to go to his room.

You smile a little as you watch him, shaking your head.

Izuku is the first person to come up to you, smiling. "Everyone wants to get to know you a little. If you have some time, come sit with us?"

You do what he says, walking over and taking a seat between him and a boy with a black streak in mostly blond hair.

You end up spending a couple hours with them, telling them about your Quirk and what it's like to live in America. When they ask about you seemingly already knowing both Izuku and Katsuki, you tell them that you grew up with them.

A girl with pink skin, who you learn is Mina, asks you for some stupid stories about them as kids, Izuku going red and telling you that you don't have to talk about anything you don't want to, trying to save himself the embarrassment.

Even though you're unsure if Bakugo will be annoyed at you for telling them this, you also tell them a few stories from when you and him were dating before you left for America.

Everyone seems surprised, a small uproar coming from the class. No one had ever even seen an indication that he had ever been interested in anyone, yet alone had a girlfriend. It appeared to be a ludicrous idea to most of them.

Kaminari seems to deflate a little upon realising you dated one of his best friends. Guess he thought you were pretty.

Not long after, you go find your room, needing to unpack. Right before you close the door, a foot stops it from closing. A second later, Bakugo comes into view.

"Well, hello there." You smirk a little, looking up at him.

He smirks back, placing a hand on the doorframe, standing in front of you. "Hey. Care if I come in?"

You move out the way for him to come in but tell him it's a little messy because you're still unpacking.

He doesn't even look at the room, closing the door as soon as he's inside and standing close to you, essentially pinning you between him and the door.

That's when you really realise how much he's changed. He's so much taller now than when you last saw him, his shoulders broader, entire body more muscular, a few visible scars now. The whole thing makes you a little flustered.

"So, do you have a little American boyfriend now?" He asks with a slight snarl, expression turning into a smirk as soon as you shake your head. "No? Then, would you mind if I kissed you?" He whispers in your ear.

You don't verbally respond, but the look on your face gives him the answer he needs. He keeps one hand on the wall, the other coming to rest on your waist, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. Your own hands find your way to his chest, gripping onto his shirt.

A moment later, he pulls away a little, smirking. "Guess we haven't missed a beat, huh?"

You laugh, not letting go of his shirt. "Suki, you're an ass." You say, making him laugh too.

"Yeah, but you love it." He whispers, leaning in to kiss you again. "It's starting to get late, and you haven't finished unpacking yet. If you wanted to stay in my room tonight, you're welcome to."

You look up at him, a little surprised by the proposal. When he sees the look on your face, he panics a small amount. "I didn't mean it like that! I meant we can spend the night sleeping together- no, not sleeping together! Not like that! I just meant- we- we can- I meant-"

You giggle at his nervousness, making him look a little angry. You move your hands to rest on his cheeks, standing on your tiptoes and smashing your lips against his.

When you finally break the kiss again, both a little breathless, he stares at you, mouth open slightly.

"Sorry, I had to find a way to shut you up." You smile. "I'd love to cuddle tonight, Suki."

He looks relieved, taking your hand. "Come on, let's go."

You spend the rest of the night in Bakugo's dorm, cuddling and eventually falling asleep in his bed.

Before he falls asleep, he spends a few moments just watching you, barely being able to believe that he got lucky enough to get you back into his life. He gives you a soft kiss on the forehead, holding you tighter, closing his own eyes and falling asleep.

[reiderwriter]

Puppet On A String

Chapter One of I Can't Help Myself

Synopsis: Expecting your big promotion any day, you're none too happy to hear about the departments miraculous new hire. You're even less happy when he moves into your office and starts touching things.

Warnings: Shitty office politics, brief allusions to Spencer's time in prison, swearing, reader is understandably bitter.

Masterlist || 5k Celebration Challenge

The day your professional aspirations came to a crashing halt was also the day that you met Doctor Spencer Reid. To say that your view of him was somewhat soured by the unpleasant circumstances of your morning meeting was an understatement and a half.

Sitting in your bosses stuffy work office, you felt your heart stop as the situation was explained.

“You understand, right, Y/N? We really value your work here, so we're really relying on you to help him settle in.” He grinned at you from behind his desk, but all friendliness in the gesture was dampened by the fact that he hadn't even bothered to look up from the papers he was looking through, glasses hanging low on his nose.

“I'm trying to understand, I am. But last week, we discussed me moving onto the tenure track. Are you saying that's out of the picture for me now?”

The smile turned into a grimace as he looked up at you, finally. He removed his glasses and folded them in front of him as you squirmed in your seat. You needed to advocate for yourself, but it wasn't easy when it felt like you were in the principals office being reprimanded.

“Doctor Spencer Reid will be joining us on loan from the FBI. Someone at the Bureau called in a favour with one of the college executives. The decision is above my pay grade - thus it is above yours.”

Your cheeks felt hot as he reprimanded you, and you bit your tongue as best you could.

“He will be with us for the semester, and then we can discuss your promotion again next semester. I will ask again, you understand the situation?”

You nodded, understanding the unspoken - the department wide email introducing your new member of staff and the generous donation from the FBI that came with him. You brought nothing to the department other than a stellar academic record and hard work.

“I'm glad we could both come to an understanding,” he said, aptly dismissing you as you stood to take your leave.

“Ah, one last thing, Y/N,” he said, stopping you in your tracks as you readied yourself to run to the nearest bathroom stall and cry until your first class - roughly 7 and a half minutes.

“Doctor Reid will be sharing your temporary office space. We're strapped for space, and there weren't any other facilities available at the last minute. Since your students always remark on how approachable and welcoming you are, you're the best person to show him around, too.”

The gloom in your heart hardened to anger as the man dismissed you, returning his glasses to his head and not bothering to make eye contact as he added more work to your already heavy load.

“Of course. Thank you.”

You closed the door behind you, willing yourself to not slam it, and stalked down the corridor to your own - now communal - office.

Half of your brain was screaming at you to quit, but with rent in a college town to pay, and the academic year already in session, there was no way you were finding something this lucrative again.

You'd worked your ass off for the last five months. You just had to survive three more with Doctor Spencer Reid.

You had to keep your emotions in control until at least your office, you thought, even as the inescapable tears threatened to fall down your face. You hate that you cried when you were angry, that your emotions couldn't even sort themselves out enough to give appropriate physical responses, but at least you could angry-cry in peace before your new coworker showed up.

You ripped open the door and stomped to your desk, slamming the door shut behind you as you fell down with your head in your hands and let out a frustrated groan.

“Um… hello, can I help you?”

The voice caught you so off guard, you almost jumped from your seat in shock, backing up to the single window in the office.

“Fuck, you scared the hell out of me. What- who are you?” You asked the man you now saw sitting at the sofa opposite your desk, next the door. So close in fact, that you didn't see him walking in.

He was sat down, but you could tell he was tall, slightly older than you, but with big brown eyes that betrayed some experience. He sat comfortably at first, legs crossed, book in hand, but as you spoke, he sat straighter, stiffer, his relaxed expression becoming somewhat colder.

“I'm Doctor Spencer Reid. I was told this is my office from today onwards? If I'm incorrect, I can leave you to your…”

Of course, the very attractive, soft-spoken man in front of you just happened to be the derailment of your career. Temporary, you reminded yourself. Temporary derailment.

“No. Doctor Reid, of course. Hello. I'm Y/N. We'll be sharing the office for the semester, I just didn't know you'd be here today.”

He frowned slightly, like sharing the space was as uncomfortable with him as it was with you.

“If you can excuse me, I have a class to teach in…” You looked to the shelves where your small clock had fallen over once again - the office was cramped and the shelves unstable enough that closing the door meant knocking at least three things over.

“Three minutes, shit. I have to leave, please keep to yourself, I have a lot of important documents in here.”

The words were colder than you would've liked, but you couldn't find the strength to care much about his opinion of you.

You grabbed your laptop and left the room swiftly, abandoning Spencer Reid to your shared office.

Your first meeting may have been sour due to circumstance, but your second was unpleasant on the strength of Spencer Reid's grating personality alone.

In your five months at the college, you'd worked up a system for classwork.

Gather books. Go to class. Pick up coffee. Teach. Leave class. Pick up a second coffee. Go to your office. Host office hours. Work on a research paper. Rinse and repeat for any other classes you had that day.

With such a busy and caffeine fuelled schedule, you kept your office as neat as you could with your rickety shelves.

So, returning to meet Spencer Reid a second time, you almost threw up at the sight that befell you in the office.

“Hey, welcome back.”

The man sat on the one inch of your floor that wasn't taken up by furniture with all of the books in the office stacked up around him, the shelves bare and tipping precariously to one side.

“What the hell did you do to my office?” You blanched, looking around, unable to see the set of books you had organized for your next class.

“The shelves are broken, I put in a request to have them replaced, and I've been organizing the books by topic so-”

“The books were already organized. By class, and week they're to be taught. Fuck, I have a seminar in 30 minutes, I need those books.”

To his credit, Spencer Reid looked panicked as he sat sifting through all the books, even as your anger rolled off of you in waves.

“I can fix this. What shelf was it on?”

“Don't bother, just ruin my day some more. Hey, how about next time, you just throw everything in the trash?”

“I was trying to help, we're going to be sharing the office, and there isn't exactly space for two desks with your current filing system.”

“So you decided to rearrange without telling me? Asking me? I've been here five months, but you strolled in five hours ago and decided to change everything to suit you.”

“That's not - look, I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, well, you can start your apology by footing the bill for whatever improvements you've made. We're not tenured professors. Anything we add to the room or request comes out of our paycheck, and I'm not starving myself for floor to ceiling bookshelves.”

Whatever retort he was about to make was lost as you grabbed your bag from the floor and stormed out, leaving him behind in your dilapidated office.

When you returned to your office later that day, he was nowhere to be found. His new furniture, however, was crowding the room. A clone of your own desk was pushed up against the side of it, the pair forming an L shape. Great. Couldn't have gotten any closer if you tried.

Your couch was still in place by the door, but the old bookshelves were gone. They were replaced by a sturdier looking wooden set that now shelved all the books you'd inherited in the office or were using for class. And some new titles.

He hadn't put them back in the order you needed them in, though you doubted he ever would, but instead had them grouped by topic and within groupings in alphabetical order.

“How very precise,” you said, running your fingers along the book spines as you made your way to your desk.

“Whoops,” you said, pulling out a book you knew wasn't yours and letting it fall to the floor.

Was it petty? Sure. Was it therapeutic?Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Nice. Mature,” a voice said behind you, and for the second time in 12 hours, you jumped at the sound of Spencer Reid's voice.

“Jesus Christ, you need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what, walking into my own office?” He said, leaning against the new bookshelves.

“Our office. Shared. For three months.”

“Oh so you do remember we have to coexist?” He asked, grinning down at you. When did he get so close that he had to look down at you?

“Trust me, your presence is…felt,” you said, gesturing around the cramped space.

“What classes are you teaching?” You sighed, pushing past him to the open door and sitting down at the sofa.

“Profiling and the Criminal Psyche and I'm guest lecturing in Criminology 101. I have a few special lectures on geographical profiles in the next month.”

“And office hours?”

“What?”

“Your office hours, you're going to need to post them soon. Mine are Mondays and Thursdays at 11am, you'll need to be out of the office then so I can consult with the students about any absences or grades. If you haven't decided on your hours yet, my schedule is taped in the first draw of my desk.”

You grabbed your jacket from the hook on the door and pulled it over you like a blanket, laying yourself down on the sofa.

“Why would I need your-”

“Do us both a favour and schedule your hours during my contracted teaching time. It'll be easier.”

“Then why don't you schedule yourself during mine?”

You scoffed as you pulled a couch cushion up to rest your head on, closing your eyes as you drowned him out.

“Gee, you're some kind of genius. Can't you figure that one out yourself?”

You heard his sight of frustration but plugged in your headphones anyway, enjoying your 20-minute power nap as you stubbornly refused to face the day's stress.

A week later, you were deep into a College Cold War.

Spencer had attempted what you'd thought was a truce on his second day, arranging the pile of books you needed for that week's seminars on his desk happily.

Until you went to grab the top of the stack, and his hand held yours down on top of it.

“Sorry, that's for my class,” he said, glancing up at you. He smiled as he noticed the irritation in your eyes as you ground your teeth together.

“I'm teaching a class today based on this text. It was an assigned reading-”

“What a coincidence. It's an assigned reading in my class as well. For all 46 students. You better run over to the library, Y/N.”

You dragged your hand out from under his, brushing off the heat that ran up your arm from his hand as disgust rather than attraction.

His existence was irritating, but his face and body were more distracting than anything.

Storming off, you knew you had to one up him somehow, but you wanted to put some thought into it before doing something impulsive. Your first thought had been slashing his tires, so some perspective was definitely needed.

A week passed, and you found yourself having to endure the man's company on a Friday night for a departmental welcome meal. You'd assumed a week ago when it was scheduled into your outlook calendar that it would be to celebrate your promotion, and now the egg was most definitely on your face.

You'd debated not even turning up, but a warning email had let you know that attendance was compulsory, and the dress code was semi-formal.

So, you begrudgingly forced yourself into the little black dress you'd purchased a lifetime ago for your first graduation and got yourself a taxi over to whatever ridiculously expensive restaurant you have to fast at this time.

“Y/N, you’re here. We weren't sure you'd show up, after… you know!” One of the older professors said as you walked in, pressing an air kiss to either cheek as she handed you a champagne flute.

“Well, attendance was compulsory, so here I am!” You wanted to wipe the pompous smile off the woman's face so badly, but unfortunately, she was a member of the hiring committee. Three more months of sucking up to her was in your future, courtesy of a shitty move by the FBI.

“You say that, but our guest of honor isn't even here yet. Typical, right?”

You downed the drink she gave you and excused yourself to take your seat at the dinner table, needing a place to rest your glass to save yourself from cracking it in your furious grip.

It took another hour for Spencer Reid to show his face, and to your glee, he looked genuinely uncomfortable at the prospect of the night ahead.

“Sorry, I was unpacking some stuff at my apartment.”

“Oh, did you move recently?” A curious voice trailed up the table to ask him as he awkwardly side stepped to his seat. Right beside you, obviously.

“No, just… I had some stuff packed up.”

He held his tongue, not revealing more as the table fell in an awkward silence.

You dragged another glass to your lips and sat back in your chair, doing your best to stay unaddressed as the appetizers finally came out.

“Does the department have dinners often?” Spencer whispered, his hot breath fanning against your neck as he leaned closer to you.

The hot feeling washed over you again as you turned towards him, immediately pulling back and putting some distance between the two of you.

“No. Usually, it is only when welcoming guest lecturers or when someone gains tenure.”

“So who got tenure?”

You scoffed. “Funny. Thanks, Spencer.”

“What?”

You looked back at him again, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

“This meal is to introduce you. Everyone else here has tenure.”

“You don't.”

“Yes, well, there wasn't exactly room in the budget for the hotshot FBI profiler and a steady income for another Professor.” You slammed your glass down again and picked up your bag and things, hoping the table hadn't heard your conversation.

“Please excuse me.” You said smiling at the rest of the table. Some of the women sent you sympathetic glances, but the department dinosaurs simply continued their conversations. You'd think a department of psychologists would be able to figure out they were all absolute narcissists.

You carefully exited the group and took yourself outside for some much needed air.

“Y/N.” He shouted from behind you again, and you had to be honest, you were sick of him following and sneaking up on you.

“God, what now, Spencer? Go back inside and get celebrated or whatever. They probably can't start the self-congratulatory circle jerk without you anyway.”

“I came to apologize. Again. But you don't seem to be able to handle the words ‘I'm sorry,’ at all, do you?”

He looked exasperated, but however he was feeling, you felt worse.

“Look, Spencer. I probably have nothing against you personally. But I've just been conned into another three months of probationary minimum wage because your boss at the Bureau decided he wanted rid of you for a month or two. Some of us didn't get child genius scholarships for multiple PhDs and aren't receiving two paychecks right now.”

“If money is an issue, Y/N, you know I could-”

“No. No, stop butting into my personal problems. We can be civil, but we're not… we're not friends, Spencer.”

You stepped back and let out another sigh as you forced the words to stand between you.

“Okay. I'll stay out of your way.”

“Great. Looking forward to it.”

“Sure. Me too.”

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: some awkward moments but nothing crazy.

part 1 - Part two!!! - part 3 - part 4

—————-

You indeed did not see John price the next morning but what you did see was a handwritten note stuck to the fridge beneath a magnet.

“Good morning, as I mentioned my job is demanding. I’m not sure how long I'll be gone for but I can estimate at least a month. If you need me, my phone number is below along with my check for this month's rent and the next. - John price”

You reach for the envelope that is attached behind the note and pull it open and what the fuck. You knew he had to have money but in what world would someone pay this much rent for a house with a roommate? You immediately grab your own checkbook and write him for the amount that’s overpaid, making a mental note to make sure you give it to him.

————

Weeks pass slowly and life goes on as it did before. The only difference is you're no longer struggling to make ends meet. So to celebrate your success you order that 6 foot canvas you’d been wanting for ages and a new oil paint.

When you got the notification that it had arrived, thank god for two day shipping, you squealed and ran to grab it before the mailman even walked away. He offered to help you as he watched you give it a bear hug and waddle it through your door yelling out a meek ‘no Thankyou’. You dragged it down the hallway and into the sunroom resting it up against the wall. Ripping the clear plastic film off of new canvases comes in third place to the best things in life.

Sitting in the sun that evening you stroke deep blue oil paints that try their best to replicate ocean waters, and white specks that wish they could induce the same feelings stars do.

You’ve been at this same painting for 3 weeks, coming home and straight to it. Now that it’s finally done it sits sunbathing till it dries. You still visit it and admire its larger than life beauty.

John’s been gone for 1 month and 3 weeks now and in that time some problems have arisen, 1. The faucet in the kitchen leaks and below it the pipe also leaks and the only plumber that’s willing to drive out to your house and inspect it says he won’t be available for another week which means the water bill will sky rocketing till then. And 2. you have no idea where the huge painting will go.

You walk around wondering where to place it. You thought maybe the living room, or even in your room but after testing both those places it still didn’t look right. You can only think of one other place which is the hallway to John’s room. Of course that spot is perfect, maybe he wouldn’t notice since he only spent one night here. You grabbed the drill and got to work mounting it immediately. Once all was said and done you gave it a once over, smiled, snapped a picture of it to send to your sister and walked away.

———

John arrived back exactly at the two month mark early in the AM. He opened the house door as quietly as possible and removed his boots by the door to avoid the creaking wood of the floor and continued sluggishly hauling his bag to his room. Being the man he is, he notices everything, those watchful eyes of his never miss a detail so he does indeed notice and take a second to admire the newly found painting hung in front of his bedroom door before unlocking it to set his stuff down.

After a much needed and appreciated shower he reads the clock at 7AM thinking he can sleep for a little, that is of course until he hears a knock at the door. Making his way down the hall he peeps through the window and sees a handyman?

“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” He says opening the door.

“Good morning, your wife called for a leaking pipe, told her I’d come by sometime today.” He looks down the hall towards your room and confirms the fact that you're definitely still very well asleep.

“My wife? Oh yes my wife, that lady I could’ve sworn I told her to cancel this appointment we actually got it all sorted out.” He lies like it's second nature.

“I actually charge a late cancellation fee that must be paid upfront.” He inquires slightly annoyed.

“How much?” John replies feeling sorry for this man that drove out here and is now being sent away.

“100$ flat.” John shuts the door and quickly fetches his wallet from the pocket of his cargo pants and returns with two bills one for the inconvenience and sends the man on his way.

Sleep can wait.

—————

You wake up to the sound of clanking in the kitchen and as a woman that technically lives alone in the middle of the forest you're terrified.

Grabbing the bat beside your bed still fully dressed in the least threatening attire, you tiptoe to the source of the noise and breathe out the strongest sigh of relief ever known to man.

“Jesus Christ John you scared me, what’re you doing?” You loudly admit startling him in return.

“Fixing this pipe that you called an overpriced handyman for.” You stare at him subconsciously admiring the way he looks, slightly disheveled, face screwed in concentration and strong hands twisting the wrench in his hand and let’s not mention the rise of his shirt.

“You okay?” He says removing himself from under the sink leaning back on his knees to stare up at you.

“Yeah, yes I’m so sorry, um so where did the handy man go?” He stands with a grunt and leans his back against the counter.

“On his merry way.” He replies, turning around to turn the faucet on checking if it leaks, then off to see if it still drips and as he expects, it does neither.

“How much do I owe you for the late cancellation fee?” That man has handled your plumbing issues before and you’ve definitely canceled late more than once.

“Technically you didn’t cancel on him, I did so don’t worry.” He says picking his tools up off the ground placing them messily into the tool box.

“Well Thank You.” You say awkwardly.

“Of course.” He smiles making the dimples beneath his beard awfully noticeable.

“Oh and by the way your rent is only two thousand five hundred a month.” You say walking to the kitchen drawer beside him and pulling out a check that’s already filled out and handing it to him.

“Utilities included?” He asks, grabbing the check written out for three thousand and also taking in notice that same scent that clung to those sheets you made his bed with weeks ago as you sweep by.

“Yeah I don’t mind paying more cause I mean look around, this place has my style written all over it which makes it feel more like mine than yours.” He looks baffled at your reasoning.

“I actually like the decorations, not sure I’d change a thing about it.” You laugh at what has to be a lie.

“I doubt it.” You chuckle and slightly blush at his kindness.

“No I'm serious, I especially love that painting in the hallway, where’d you get it?” You seem surprised at the mention of it and even more flattered at the compliment.

“I actually painted it.” He gives you a surprised look.

“See you’re even hand painting the art, please I can afford much more than twenty five hundred.” You act like you're considering it for a moment.

“As much as I’d appreciate it, I'm already grateful for what you pay.” You say truthfully.

“Also, welcome home.” You quip before turning around walking back towards your room to get ready for the day

—————

John’s been home for nearly two weeks now and he’s slightly growing on you and you on him. You co-exist in harmony most times. That doesn’t mean the two of you still don’t clash from time to time.

“Good morning.” He says scrambling eggs in a pan as you walk into the kitchen reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.

“Morning to you too.” You say groggily, setting your feet flat on the ground and placing the cup on the counter, reaching for the pot to pour some coffee.

“If I can just- oh I’m so sorry.” He says accidentally bumping into you making the coffee spill on the counter.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I can just clean it.” You say turning around quickly to go grab paper towels and end up accidentally running into his chest.

He grabs your shoulders to hold you in place and let your brain catch up with the speed of events.

“We will learn to both be in the kitchen together someday.” You affirm with a laugh that makes you feel alive.

“Hey the first week this happened almost everyday. If anything this is a huge improvement.” He jokingly abides.

“True.” You say as he turns around handing you the kitchen towel to clean it up. He watches you with amused eyes and a smile that still hasn’t left either of your faces and for a second something alights in John something that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear a thing you’re saying.

“John, I said did you sleep well?” You speak a bit louder, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah darling sorry I’m just going to take this to my office. I've got some work to cover.” He says hurriedly plating his food and scurrying off.

“Okay well I’ll be heading to work soon.” He doesn’t even let you finish before closing the door leaving you to stand there a little stumped.

“So I’ll assume he didn’t sleep well.” You say to yourself before pouring another cup and heading to your room to get changed.

——————

Comments and reposts are appreciated <3

@beebeechaos

@ttsbaby01

@arminarlertssword

@quakeroaksguy

@waves-against-a-cliff

@depressed-but-make-it-cute

[wandanatrules]

My Obedient Little Wife

word count- 1.4k

pairing- dom beefy g!p nat x subby fem reader

summary - Natasha has just made you her wife and she is going to take her time worshipping you

warnings- smut, oral (both receiving), dirty talk, foul language, penetration, humping

note - thank you guys for all the support on my fics! I appreciate those of you who are sending requests. I am going to start working on those asap! please keep sending them in. I am also very grateful for those who message me. I love when you guys talk to me and ask me questions! Please read and interact with all my other fics and I hope you enjoy this one!

“Are you gonna take me to bed Natty?” You asked, looking up at her with those signature doe eyes and the sexy lip biting.

She was carrying you bridal style down the hall of the hotel you were staying at tonight, before you leave for your honeymoon the next morning. Since you had just had your well anticipated wedding, you were ready to finally consummate your marriage and let her claim you as her wife.

“Of course I am Mrs. Romanoff.” She said looking down at you with a smirk before pecking your lips. As soon as she arrived at the hotel room, she quickly unlocked the door eager to get her hands on you. 

“You have been teasing me all day, baby girl.” She said throwing you on the king sized bed. “Walking down the aisle to be my wife, and then changing into this tight little dress to grind all on me in front of our family at the reception. You are driving me crazy.” 

You sat on your knees on the bed looking up into her lust filled eyes. Feeling the need to touch her, you reached up to grope her chest, using one hand to try and unbutton her shirt. Growing frustrated, you used both hands to just pop the shirt open, buttons flying everywhere, finally getting a look at her chiseled abs, before finally getting her aching bulge in your hand. 

“Baby, now you are my bride and I need to worship you, enough about me.” She said moving your hands away, and unzipping your dress. She lifted you up to pull it off completely. She kissed you on your plump lips, much like she did earlier on the altar, making out with you for a little bit, before moving south to your neck. 

“I need everyone to know that you are mine and that I own you.” She growled out between the bruises she was leaving on your chest and the trail leading between the valley of your breasts, aiming to leave more love bites there.

“We need to get this off, so I can see these beautiful tits.” Her hand expertly reached behind you and unclipped your bra, letting it fall off and freeing your perky breasts. “Uggh baby, I will never get over how good you look. These plump tits are all for me.” At this point she was laying on your chest with your tits in her mouth, truly relishing the beauty of these attributes. She felt your breath hitch as she slowly bites the hardened bud, before smoothing over it with her tongue. 

“Please nat, I need you.” You begged, pushing her head down to the place that you desperately needed it. 

“Baby don’t rush, we have the rest of our lives together and tonight I want to take my time with you. She pushed you back down onto the bed, continuing her trail of bruises down your stomach stopping when she got to your pantyclad core.  

“Please natty, please I need you.” You whined, rubbing your thighs together to try and ease the ache. 

“Now little girl.” She said before ripping your thighs apart, “I was excited to have an obedient little wife, but I guess i’m going to have to teach you.” 

She kissed your hips and between your thighs before noticing the wet spot on your white lacy panties, She put her nose on the spot, breathing in your scent before pushing her thumb down onto your clit through the panties. You writhed in pleasure finally feeling her where you need her the most. 

She took the string of your panties between her teeth slowly pulling them down your thighs, until she got them off you completely and put them in the pocket of her suit pants.

Leaning down she stuck out her tongue flattening it before licking a stripe down your cunt. She smiled at the taste, not being able to get enough. “Oh my god baby girl, my wife tastes delicious.” She said licking her lips in satisfaction.

Diving in once again, she starts to eat you out like she’s been starved for a year. She harshly grips your hips and circles your puffy clit with her tongue. You buck your hips up trying to get more of her. She pushes you down and holds you there before picking up the pace, with her assault on your clit. She licks your cunt up and down, before sticking her tongue into your tight hole, fucking you slowly. You feel your breath start to hitch and your thighs start to twitch. You and your wife both knew you were close, so she removed her tongue from your cunt and entered two of her fingers, while going back to licking your clit. 

After her tirelessly eating your pussy, you were finally to your breaking point. You felt the knot in your stomach unravel and you squirted. Nat removed her fingers from your cunt and used two fingers to quickly rub your pussy, to elongate your orgasm. She stuck her tongue out and tried to catch some of your cum, moaning at the taste. 

“My goodness baby, you’re so messy. Look at you squirting all over me, showing off your drooling cunt.” She said flipping you over onto your hands and knees, making you squeal out of surprise. 

“Seeing you like this has made me so hard baby, I just need to fuck my wife’s pussy in order to feel better.” She said before licking the cum off your cunt from behind to clean you up. She then pulled off her belt before stripping off her pants and boxers, leaving you both completely naked. 

She quickly entered into your dripping hole, your tightness squeezing her deliciously. She was already so worked up from eating you out she could’ve cum already, but lucky for you her stamina was incredible. She picked up her pace, fucking you from behind. She focused her attention on your tight ass, rubbing and fondling your cheeks, while you pushed back onto her cock. 

You were panting like a bitch in heat, as she continued to fuck you. You turned your head around to face her looking at how good she looked pounding into you. You pucker your lips signaling your need for a kiss. She leaned forward to kiss you, sloppily making out as you strained your neck. Her hands traveled up to cup your breasts and tweak your nipples.

She picked up the pace, feeling you getting closer as your cunt squeezed her aching prick. You felt her big dick in your intestines, as she pushed on the bulge appearing in your stomach. 

The knot in your stomach unraveled for the second time tonight, leaving you to cream all over her cock. She guided your hips backwards to help you through your orgasm and put her over the edge. 

“Dammit baby this pussy is so tight, it’s like it was made for me.” She said, slapping your ass and pulling you back deeper, using you as her own personal sex toy. This was enough to send her over the edge, and blow in your cunt. Her hot, wet stream of semen had traveled down your insides and filled your belly.  

You got up and turned around, both of you kneeling in front of each other. You looked into her eyes before leaning down to put her penis in your mouth. You sucked on the head before licking the shaft up and down to clean off your shared arousal. She sucked in a breath, still sensitive from her previous orgasm. She grabbed you by the hair holding you there so she could thrust her hips up into your mouth while you gagged on her.

This was one of the most beautiful sights for her to see, so it didn’t take much for her to cum again. Another hot, wet stream of cum sliding down your throat, as you swallowed every thing she gave you. She then pulled you off of her and up by the hair to kiss you again. When the kiss grew heated, you took charge and pushed her back on the bed, straddling her waist. Your clit sat on her dick and you roughly grinded on her while making out. Your tongue entered her mouth as she sucked on it. You were panting in her mouth as you wildly humped her. 

“Baby, if we don’t slow down I'm afraid we are gonna have a honeymoon baby.” 

[imminent-danger-came]

Sun Wukong Knew About MK the Whole Time: A Theory

I am currently hyped up on leftovers and iced coffee, so let's do this!

I've talked about this before, here and here, but I think it's finally time I wrote an official post. You can go and read those posts if you want to (I definitely hit the nail on the head with some of this stuff), but I will be compiling a lot of what I said on those posts here!

So. Let's get the Mr. Elephant out of the room first: The David Breen Tweets. (thread here).

I see this tweet mentioned a lot whenever I bring up SWK knowing about MK, and honestly, this is a far cry from the "it's been confirmed that SWK didn't know" definite answer everyone's been implying.

So let's break it down!

#1: "Monkey King ain't the father"/"Monkey King isn't his dad." Well of course! Being born from a stone means you don't have any parents. I see it like this: Wukong isn't MK's dad, but he's also not NOT MK's dad, it's a secret third thing (creator and creation). Or, perhaps Wukong didn't help create MK at all, but he at the very least was involved in the circumstances that lead to MK being created/being born from the stone. (Aka eldritch abomination MK theory. My Beloved. Okay sorry.)

#2: "Monkey King was ripping his way through memories looking for MK, but kept coming back to the stone. He doesn't know why." So, while Wukong was ripping through memories, he didn't know why the scroll kept spitting him out by the stone. This is not a confirmation that Wukong didn't know about MK and his origins. It also begs the question: how did Wukong know MK was in the scroll to begin with? There's also some speculation to be had about why Wukong was so desperate to find MK to begin with:

MK: "Monkey King did this?" Macaque: "It looks like he's been tearing his way through his past—trying to find his way to.." MK: "Me."

(4x11 A Lifetime of Mistakes)

-

What was he so afraid of MK finding? Or, what was he afraid the scroll would force MK to experience? I think these are questions worth asking.

#3: "Wukong's trying real hard to leave the 'not being open with MK' days behind after s3. Problem is he's got lifetimes of info to catch them up on." Well, this one is a DOOZIE. One: we already know MK doesn't know everything about Wukong and his choices because he doesn't know Wukong killed Macaque (thank you 4x11). Two: "trying real hard" and "successfully doing" are very different things. And three: YOU DON'T JUST DROP INFO LIKE "Hey, did you know you're a Monkey Demon?" ON TOP OF SOMEONE RANDOMLY. Especially not MK. You have to prepare them for it.

Wukong is trying to do better and be better for everyone around him, but that still takes work. That still isn't easy. He's still going to make mistakes, which means he's not going to always go about being open with MK in the best way.

Sun Wukong: “Point is, mistakes happen, but so long as you leave the world in better shape than you found it, then it’s all good. Right?”

(4x01 Familiar Tales)

-

This scene—to me—feels like Wukong is trying prepare MK for his eventual "Hey did you know you're a Monkey Demon?" conversation he wants (and needs) to have down the line. Yes, SWK is trying to be more open with MK, but he's also just not going to be given that chance before the truth comes out.

MK: "Yeah right, if Monkey King really was my dad don't you think he would have said something by now?" Mei: "Yeah...because he's normally SOOOOO forth coming with information." MK: "Well uh, whatever—when we find Monkey King's stone, then we'll just ask him!"

(4x05 Court of the Yellow Robbed Demon)

-

Notice how they never asked Monkey King that question? From a writing standpoint, why bring this up at all if it wasn't to imply that (even if Monkey King isn't MK's dad) he wasn't involved with MK's creation in some way?

ANYWAYS.

NOW THAT THE BREEN TWEET THAT HAS RUINED MY LIFE IS OUT OF THE WAY, let's get into the evidence given to us throughout the entirety of the show. Starting with this:

This isn't a scene that takes place during the "A Hero is Born" special, as I'm sure plenty of people have noticed before now. Of course, this could have just been Monkey King "scouting out a successor", but with everything we know now doesn't that...feel kinda weird?

We were told at the beginning of the show that Monkey King gave MK his powers, but now we know that's not true. MK has had his own powers this whole time—and that's something Wukong, at the very least, knew:

Sun Wukong: "Listen kid: You fought demons, and you didn't die, and you made it here! Not just anyone can lift my staff, but you did." (1x00 A Hero is Born)

-

MK: "This whole time, I thought my powers came from the staff! Sun Wukong: "The staff's just a big 'ol stick bud! It takes someone special to lift it." (3x03 Smartie Kid)

-

There's also 1x09 Macaque, which I have mentioned before:

Macaque: "Ohohoh no, can't you hold the magic staff anymore? Well, you know what that means—there really isn't anything special about you. You're just a kid with a heavy stick."

This scene is then followed by MK lifting the staff, which only happens because Wukong encourages him.

MK: "Ugh, I can't! I'm not strong enough." Sun Wukong: "Kid! We're definitely going to have words later, but it's time for the Hero Stuff!"

(1x09 Macaque)

-

Ultimately, Wukong knows MK can lift the staff again even after Macaque supposedly stole all of MK's powers. He knows MK can beat DBK (more on that later). He does something similar to all this in 3x14, being the one to let MK face the Lady Bone Demon, powered by the Samadhi fire, alone (even after Pigsy tries to stop MK):

Wukong want's to protect MK. That's why he went to face the Lady Bone Demon alone in the first place—but here, he let's MK stop the end of the world all by himself. Why would he let his beloved student face not only LBD, but a reality ending flame alone?

Because he knows how much power MK has. Because he knows MK is capable of doing it.

This all brings me to my main point: If before now we were supposed to believe that Monkey King gave MK his powers, and he so clearly didn't, how would Wukong not know he didn't give MK powers. And because he clearly knew he didn't give MK any powers, why would he not question where this kid's insane level of power came from? He had to have "chosen" MK to be his successor for a reason right?

ESPECIALLY because Wukong never planned on being a mentor in the first place:

Sun Wukong: "I know I can never make it up to you. Honestly, I- I never thought I'd live as long as I have let alone be someone's mentor—turns out I'm not very good at it. I guess what I'm trying to say is...I'm sorry MK. For all of it."

(3x14 Destiny Fulfilled)

-

This was also alluded to in 3x05 Amnesia Rules:

Pigsy: "Of COURSE you don't remember the kid—one day you are going to grow up to be a terrible mentor!" Sun Wukong: "Ha! Zhu Bajie, can you imagine me teaching someone? HA!"

-

So, Wukong clearly didn't ever want to become a mentor, and this directly contradicts what Wukong says to MK in "A Hero is Born":

Sun Wukong: "You're perfect!" MK: "Perfect for what?" Sun Wukong: "To be...my successor!"

Honestly, think about it: has Wukong ever once actually needed a successor? When given the opportunity, he goes off and tries to handle things on his own anyways (Leaving in s2, wanting to go and reforge the Samadhi Fire on his own, going to stop LBD alone). It's the classic "we're being told one thing and shown another" trick.

Sun Wukong: "No no no- in case you forgot I'M retired, you're the one supposed to be taking care of the bad guys." (1x01 Bad Weather)

Even in 2x01 he's lying:

Sun Wukong: "Aw, come on bud! I promised myself that when I found a successor I'd go see some friends, take a tour of my old stomping grounds, just cut loose you know?" (2x01 Sleep bug)

It's proven in the next episode, and by the fact that all of his friends are dead/gone, that literally nothing he said here is true.

And, it's also note worthy to point out, that by this point Wukong had already disappeared for hundreds of years. Why step in again at all? Why put the effort into getting a successor you definitely were never prepared to have?

MK: "*sigh* You think Monkey King ever felt like this? Maybe that's why he stayed up on this mountain, just having a good time with you guys. You know cause- cause he knew he'd be out of the way where he couldn't hurt anyone he cared about." Macaque: "Or, he was doing his usual Wukong thing and being a lazy peach eating idiot. Ignoring all the worlds problems.

(4x09 Roast of the Monkie Kids)

-

So, I don't know about you, but I'm going to trust Macaque's insight on this. I'm not sure Wukong ever planned on coming back. Sealing DBK, he effectively cut off one of his last ties to the world (please go read wlw-wukong's thoughts, they are delightful), and he had already left the world alone for a long time. Why did he feel the need to train a successor now?

The simple answer is this: because he knew he needed to train MK and teach him to control his powers, and DBK's return was the perfect way to do it.

NOW. THE S4 MK VISIONS.

So, the visions MK see's all through out s4 (4x03, 4x04, 4x05, 4x06) are of Wukong ripping through the scroll and going to the stone—David Breen confirmed that himself in the above tweets.

Here's a list of what we see:

(4x03 The Great Tang Man)

-

(4x04 Pig Napped)

-

(4x05 Court of the Yellow Robbed Demon)

-

These are what I would say are the visions of Sun Wukong trying to find MK in the scroll. Yet, they are distinctly different from what Subodhi presses MK to remember ("Tell me of your childhood, your parents." "You do not remember?" "And what else?"):

(4x06 Show Me the Monster)

-

Look at that difference!

Every vision MK has includes the same scenes, except this one. That's why I think it's a memory; that and the way it's framed, with MK closing his eyes in focus. The other visions from 4x03, 4x04, and 4x05 all are unprompted, being forced upon MK. Why make this last "vision" so different from the others? Why show our mystery lady making the stone monkey? That would be because it's a memory—be it MK's, something from the scroll, or a mix of both.

There's also the matter of like, why Wukong going to the stone would trigger any sort of vision in MK to begin with. Overall, it just seems like there something more to those visions.

This would be how I imagine the general timeline playing out:

MK is created (through help of Sun Wukong), a beautiful baby boy pops out of the stone, and Sun Wukong "loses" that beautiful boy (if Wukong knew he was born to begin with) with MK finding his way to Pigsy's.

Then it's later Sun Wukong finds MK again, coming up with a plan to make MK his "successor" (still leaving MK with Pigsy, which I think was the right call lol). As Wukong says in 4x01, "You make ONE mistake, and no one ever let's you live it down! Looks like the ghosts of my past have finally caught up with me." That's what I think this parallel in particular is really trying to show off—in some way, MK is part of his past mistakes, just like Macaque is.

AND SO. I WILL CLOSE OFF THIS THEORY POST WITH EVERYTHING WE LEARNED IN THE SPECIAL.

Sun Wukong: "Heh, nothing gets under his skin more than a monkey. Leave Azure to MK and me."

(4x12 The Plan Man)

-

Sun Wukong: "Kinda embarrassing for the Jade Emperor to have two little cheeky monkeys running circles around him the first day on the job." MK: "Well, one monkey and one unconfirmed, but *laughs* yeah! I'd be embarrassed for sure!"

(4x13 Rip and Tear)

-

Wukong sounds suspiciously confident that MK is a monkey.

Not even MK is sure what he is (which he's probably just in denial, but also "Until I know what I am, what my destiny is?" from 4x08 anyone?), but Sun Wukong is extremely certain about what MK is.

Sun Wukong: "We got this bud. Would have liked to give you some new training with your monkey form, but-" MK: "Oh yeah yeah yeah- uh um- about that— um. I- I was thinking, I've never really needed a scary new monkey form before, so, I just thought maybe I'd use it next time." Sun Wukong: "Next time? Kid, there might not be a next time! This is the time."

MK: "It's be fine! Mei and I have got this awesome new armor and everything! You know, when we look this good? Ain't nothing gonna beat us." Sun Wukong: "Kid. New armor isn't going to cut it! We have to hit Azure with everything we've got! You can't just ignore this whole part of your power because it scares you!"

(4x12 The Plan Man)

-

If the writers were trying to highlight the fact that Wukong didn't know, this scene would have gone very differently. Instead of "You can't just ignore this whole part of your power because it scares you!" I think it would have been more along the lines of "I know this is new for all of us, but you've got to accept this part of your power!".

Even this exchange at the end of the special raises some alarm bells for me:

Pigsy: "Heh, don't bother. I've been telling him that for years but he LITERALLY never listens." Sun Wukong: "Yep! That's how we roll."

(4x14 Better Than We Found It)

-

That's how "we" roll? As in him and MK, as two monkeys? Again, Wukong is surprisingly chill and okay with this new form for someone whose first interaction with it was supposedly this:

MK, writhing on the ground in pain, completely destroying the world around him, and unable to control his powers.

Sun Wukong: "Yeah! Go MK, go! Just try not to totally wreck up my stuff would ya-"

(4x13 Rip and Tear)

-

Overall, it gives me the impression that Wukong already knew what MK was before 4x07. This new form didn't scare him because he always knew that's what MK was. MK, to Wukong, is MK! And MK has always been a Monkey Demon. He has unshakeable faith in his protege, and even while MK is absolutely tearing up the world around flower fruit mountain he can't help but cheer for him.

After all, Wukong knows MK is the only one who could defeat Azure:

MK: "Ne Zha's right—while Azure has the Jade Emperor's power and the scroll, there's NO way we could beat him head on!" Sun Wukong: "I mean, some of us could beat him! *ahem* One of us, specifically-" MK: "Nope! None of us at all."

(4x12 The Plan Man)

-

"But Imp!" I hear you say, "Wukong was talking about himself here!". To which I would reply, that's not true! This scene is right after Wukong has already said he only almost beat the Jade Emperor:

Sun Wukong: "But don't worry—I almost beat the Jade Emperor single handed once! Between both of us, Azure doesn't stand a chance." (4x12 The Plan Man)

-

Between this and Wukong's pre-fight convo with MK ("We have to hit Azure with everything we've got!"), he's clearly banking on MK using the full extent of his powers to win this fight. Wukong isn't banking on his own—if he were, he would never have left MK to go and collect the scroll pieces during their fight with Azure.

Conclusion

Sun Wukong knew MK was a monkey the whole time, lol—and fate has plans for MK. Great plans, or foul? Time will tell.

And Wukong has done his best to ensure that those plans are great.

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Hi! I love your blog so much. I was hoping you could write what yandere!batfam would do if the reader just barricaded themselves in a room and does everything to make sure batfam can't get in. I hope you have a great day and drink plenty of water.

Thank you! I’m glad you enjoy my blog, and I am absolutely going to do a snippet for this!

Warnings: (implied) hunger striking, captivity, themes of obsession, violence, and threats of restraints as well as physically restraining someone.

“You know that’s only going to hold us out for so long, right?”

It’s Jason. You don’t respond, keeping silent. It was just another trick, you knew, to get you to open the door.

Not that they only needed a door. You’d shoved the massive bookcase in front of the window, shoving your bed in front of it. Your desk, and the final bookshelf, had gone to block the door.

You had no doubt it wouldn’t hold them long. It just had to hold them long enough.

“Come on, kid, think about this. Open the door, and I’ll try and talk the old man down from taking the damn door off it’s hinges.”

You hiss softly in alarm, because you had thought Bruce was gone. You thought he was away, in Nepal, in a business trip. Otherwise there was no possible way you would have been able to pull this off, you knew.

“You didn’t know the old man was back? He got a call from Dickiebird, he’s on his way to the Manor as we speak, kid. You really want him to start breaking down the door? He will, you know it.”

You keep quiet, fingers buried in the soft carpet, and try to focus. Try to breath. Bruce being here changed things. Dick being here changed things.

“Who’s all in the Manor?”

You manage to croak out, and Jason pauses.

“Not sure I should be telling you that, kid. I’ll cut you a deal, though. Tell me why you’re pulling out the anti-siege tactics and I’ll tell you some names.”

You shake your head, before you remember that Jason couldn’t see you. That was fine.

“No deal.”

You weren’t going to be explaining to them that you felt suffocated, more often than not. That they were always there, constantly hovering, a hand on your shoulder or an arm linked around yours. That you had so little agency that you felt you were going insane, on a good day.

“Then guess you’re gonna be in the dark. Head up, though. Golden Boy’s pissed.”

That manages to rip the air from your lungs. Dick was scary as hell when he got angry, scary enough that out of all your siblings captors, his anger would immediately send you into a near frenzy. He got fucking mean when he was mad, and he knew how to use his words to cut to the bone.

“What and you aren’t?” You taunt, frantically trying to stop the way your heart thunders in your ears and the way your blood pulses in your veins.

“Oh no, I’m pissed. Pissed enough I’m keeping this door between the two of us, because I don’t want to traumatize ya.” It’s- it’s almost cheerful, the way he says it, so matter of fact, but the words are phrased in a way that you know they’re true. Every syllable is tense and clipped, not quite grit out and hidden behind the easygoing bluster.

“Yeah, well, I’m also pretty into keeping the door between us.” You snap, because you are impulsive and dumb and holy shit you did not think this through.

You hear the faintest sound from Jason, and when he speaks again, his voice is sharp, sharp enough you cringe back and try not to panic.

“I fucking bet, you brat. What exactly are you planning to get out of this, huh? Planning on going on a hunger strike or something?”

The door rattles in the frame, and you yelp, alarmed.

A sigh, and when Jason speaks again, it’s softer. Cajoling.

“Listen. Bruce and Golden Boy are gonna be here soon. We can do this two ways. You either open the door, apologize to me for being an absolute menace and driving me insane, or it gets busted down, and you leave the room anyways, except with a lot more yelling and a lot higher chance of Bruce not letting you out of his sight for months. Literally.”

You bite your lip, hands fisted in the rug.

“I’m not opening the door, Jason.”

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You hear his footsteps leave. For a second, you take a moment to breathe, air whistling between your teeth, the AC loud in the quiet room.

“Open the door.”

You jump, nearly leaping a foot in the air, and the startled sound dies in your chest, eyes wide.

Bruce. Bruce was on the other side of the door, right now, and he was pissed. Pissed enough that his voice had that gravelly, rough quality it got when he was being stern and already mad as hell but trying not to show it.

“No.”

Your voice sounds small, even to you. You try to ignore it.

The door rattles on it’s hinges. It seemed, with a locked door and several heavy oak dressers between you and him, he was determined to move both. It rattles again, this time louder, and you shriek in alarm when the desk creaks. How fucking hard was Bruce hitting it?

“(Y/N), unless you want me to break this door down, open the door.” Bruce sighs after he speaks, and then breathes in, like he was trying to calm himself down.

“I know you’re scared right now. But just open the door and come out, and we can talk about why you did this, okay? I’m sorry I frightened you.”

You feel tears prick at the side of your face, feel the anxiety and the nervousness and the fear. You want to shake your head.

You don’t say anything, and he sighs again.

This time, it’s not just the door that rattles. The desk shudders, straining against the weight thrown against it, and the shelf creaks, then sways.

You’re smart enough to back up and away before it comes crashing down. Not that you don’t doubt Bruce knew you were away from the shelf, or he never would have risked toppling the heavy thing.

When he ducks through the doorway, picking his way over the shattered desk and shelf, you back away, hands trembling. He pauses.

“(Y/N). Why don’t you come over here so we can clean the mess up, and we can talk about this in a bit? Just take a breath, okay? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. It makes some of the anger drain from his features, that you weren’t hurt, but you don’t get any closer and his lips press into a thin line.

“(Y/N). Come here.”

It’s stern. It reminds you of the same voice he uses every time you try and escape or fight with your siblings. It makes your stomach twist.

Your eyes flick to the door, and Dick, who was standing not far from the door way, sharp blue eyes watching you for any movement.

You make your decision, swallow, and ease forward.

Warm arms wrap around you the second you’re in reach, pressing you against Bruce’s chest, and you feel a bit of the tension in his shoulders unwind, just barely.

“This isn’t happening again, (Y/N). Do you understand me? What if you had gotten hurt, when the shelf came down? What if you had gotten hurt when you were in here and couldn’t say anything?”

Bruce was pissed, and he grips you tightly, tightly enough that you squirm in his hold, which only makes him grip you tighter.

“I wouldn’t have gotten myself hurt! It’s practically an empty room half the time, what could I have hurt myself with?”

God, you hated it when your mouth ran faster than your thoughts.

“That’s not what matters.” Dick cuts in. “The issue is that you could’ve, and we couldn’t have done anything about it!”

He pissed, practically spitting out the words, and you can hear Bruce’s frown.

“Dick, you need to calm down.”

“No! This is the fifth time this month they’ve tried something, you have to do something, Bruce! It’s stressing everyone out!”

You open your mouth to argue, ready to defend yourself because you hadn’t asked for any of this, but Bruce speaks before you can.

“I will.”

And suddenly you are far more preoccupied with trying to prevent Bruce from picking you up, twisting and squirming to get away, but he catches you easily. He presses you against him, this time the action restraining, and lifts, taking your feet off the ground.

The entire trip through the Manor, you are twisting and pushing against him, trying to escape. You nearly get close, once, when he was adjusting his hold and you had snapped your teeth at him, but Dick had lurched froward for a moment and it had startled you so badly that you had frozen, giving him time to readjust.

You’re dumped on a medical cot, and when you see the straps on either side, it nearly takes the both of them to hold you down long enough to get them on. Bruce looks pained the entire time, as you kick and flail, and when they’re both done, your arms are strapped securely enough that yanking on them does nothing.

“Stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Bruce frowns, and then sighs, moving the cot. You’re moved with it, and you glare. “This is only temporary until we find a more permanent solution, (Y/N). Until we can trust you not to be a danger to yourself, alright? It won’t last long.”

Dick doesn’t look like he agrees.

You don’t either.

[flwrstqr]

𖠵 ⌇MY LOVE GUIDE FOR A NERD — TEASER

SYNOPSIS: as the stubborn older sister of the one and only kang sooha, the school's perfect golden girl, your life was a constant shadow compared to her shining light. one day, you find a heartfelt letter in your locker, only to realize it's from heeseung, the school's notorious nerd or loser, and it's meant for sooha. a brilliant idea strikes—you'll offer heeseung a deal: test answers and homework help in exchange for your guidance to win over soohab But as you dive deeper into the plan, you start to see heeseung in a new light, and your heart begins to betray you. who knew if heeseung felt the same?

featuring loser!heeseung x fem!reader (feat cho miyeon from gidle, choi yeonjun from txt)

genre high school au, romance, one sided enemies to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, long fic, fluff, angst, oblivious x oblivious, tutor au ish

word count teaser is 500, (fic est about 9k-10k wc)

warnings sooha dating your ex, yn being compared to sooha, yn kind of using heesseung in the beginning, profanity, kissing (no suggestive stuff or nsfw), small grammar errors (sorry), sooha using heeseung later on, yn being a bit stubborn in the beginning

disclaimer i am not saying this is an accurate representation of these idols or trying to sexualize them at all. this just something i do for fun.

release date by the last week of jul hopefully

taglist open! send an ask or comment to be added @seuliecore @isa942572 @txtlyn @immelissaaa @isabellah29 @korok127-not-nct127 @heeheeyeoiizz01 @heelee-01

danielle note so i kind of like had this idea for a few months for now. lowkey i fell in love with the plot while thinking of this so i thought it was a must to write this. so here i am >o<

YOU GO TO YOUR LOCKER AND NOTICE A LETTER, its envelope adorned with colorful stickers and cute doodles. The sight alone makes you curious. With a quick glance around to make sure no one is watching, you rip open the envelope and unfold the letter inside.

The paper is thick and slightly scented, and the handwriting is neat and careful, clearly written with a lot of thought and effort. As you begin to read, your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Dear Sooha,

I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve admired you from afar for so long, and I can’t keep my feelings to myself any longer. Your kindness, intelligence, and beauty have captivated me, and I find myself thinking about you constantly. I know this might come as a surprise since we don’t interact much, but I see you every day, and each moment I do, I’m struck by how incredible you are.

Your smile lights up the room, and your laughter is like music to my ears. I find myself daydreaming about what it would be like to be the reason behind that smile, to share in your joy and be a part of your life. You are not only beautiful but also kind-hearted and intelligent. The way you treat everyone with such warmth and respect makes you stand out even more.

I’ve wanted to tell you this for so long, but I never had the courage. I’m not the most outgoing person, and I often find myself lost in the background. But every time I see you, I feel a little braver, a little more hopeful. I’ve decided it’s time to take a chance, to step out of the shadows and let you know how I feel.

Thank you for taking the time to read this letter. No matter what your response is, I’m glad I finally mustered up the courage to express my feelings. You deserve to know how truly special you are.

Sincerely, Lee Heeseung"

Your jaw drops. Lee Heeseung, the school’s infamous nerd, likes you? The very thought is almost laughable. But then you notice the name again: Sooha. You roll your eyes as realization hits. This love letter wasn’t meant for you at all; it was intended for your younger sister, Sooha, the popular golden child of the school.

You glance across the room and spot Heeseung just as he walks into the classroom. He’s the epitome of a nerd, with his oversized glasses slipping down his nose, a mountain of books clutched in his arms, and an awkward shuffle in his step. He pauses to push his glasses up, and you can’t help but notice the way his eyes dart nervously around the room

And then, an idea strikes you. A mischievous grin spreads across your face as you tuck the letter back into its envelope.

Your eyes follow Heeseung as he makes his way to his seat, and you feel a strange mix of excitement and anticipation. This could be interesting.

📌 :: PERM TL @stariekis @nishimuraazr1zzkiii @suhiiiiiii @ashtxrie @copyhanni @jwsdoll @yejisuu @caeqey @onlyjjong @sunrenity @river-demon-slayer @dimplewonie  @hrts4hees @teddywonss @floweryang @sumzysworld @sngleehee @ohmydollie @chaewonshoney @luvj4key @dioll @jlheon  @junislqve @rikiscarf @sainns @luvlyhee @a-dream-bookmark

flwrstqr © please do not copy, steal or translate.

[alastor-simp]

Enchanting Lullaby - Insomniac Alastor x Sea Siren Reader

❥Summary: Everyone in the hotel knows that Alastor does not sleep, but what happens when he seeks you out and makes a request only you can provide for him.

❥Tags: Alastor x reader, sea siren, siren reader, insomniac, insomniac alastor, alastor does not sleep, fem reader

❥Notes: I am OBSESSED with siren songs. I find them so hypnotic and beautiful, so I wanted to write a story with a siren reader with Alastor. Wanted to give a shoutout to my friend ValerieWinks777 for helping me with this story. I recommend checking her out on Wattpad, she does amazing Alastor x reader stories.

Spending years in hell, forming unbreakable deals and ripping apart demons in his broadcasts have harden Alastor to put aside certain feelings and tasks, including sleep. Well, he used to sleep during the time when he was alive, honestly he is surprised he even could after all the horrible murders he committed. He didn't just decide one day that he wasn't going to slumber anymore, this change started slowly. Indulging gleefully in the wrath he enjoyed created new enemies, enemies he knew posed no threat, but the longer that list got, the less often he slept, as he rather stay awake and attack them head on if any of them even considered wanting to mess with the radio demon.

A couple days after the extermination war and rebuilding the hotel, it had gotten surprisingly more busy with new demons arriving to gander at the hotel, and possibly consider joining. Charlie had been working like a mad women, tending to make sure everything was perfect for the guests and also trying to lessen some of the workload on the others. She greatly appreciate everything that happened before, so she didn't want them lifting a finger with anything. Alastor, however, was not one to just stand there and not offer his assistance. He may still consider the hotel a bunch of wack-a-doo nonsense, but he has grown fond of Charlie and her beliefs, also considering how much of a gentleman he was, he wasn't going to let poor Charlie do everything herself. Charlie waved her hands in the air, saying profusely that it was okay and Alastor didn't need to help, but Alastor was persistent. "Ah ah ah. Charlie, my dear. As the facility manager of the hotel, it is substantial for me to offer my assistance. Now then! What humble tasks need to be dealt with?" Alastor said with a smile, as he bent down, putting his face closer to Charlie's. Charlie gave a sigh and small smile back to Alastor and told him of the assignments that needed to be done for today.

Alastor went about and began completing each task, stockpiling the drinks for the bar, making sure the rooms were all spick and span, obtain groceries for the kitchen and also prepare dinner for later tonight. Alastor had finally reach the end of the tasks and softly heaved a sigh. Performing small things like this was nothing to him, as he preferred to finish the job quickly and properly and not dwindle on it, but he had used a great amount of his powers to fulfill each one of them, causing him to feel more drained then usual. Alastor, for the first time, felt the need to take a good due rest, but he knew it wasn't going to be easy since it has been a millennium since he last slept. Pondering through his thoughts, he came up with an idea that could help him, as he made his way upstairs.

Knocking on your door, Alastor patiently waited, as the door to your room opened, with you standing on the other side of it, wearing your cozy pajamas. You looked up at Alastor with a smile, head tilted to the side. "Oh good evening, Al. Is there something you needed?" Alastor smiled down at you, showcasing more of his teeth. "Yes, my dear! I have encountered a bit of a dilemma and I need your assistance with the matter. Would it be alright if you could come to my chambers?" He observed your eyes glaze with confusion before you nodded your head, and walked out of your room, closing the door behind you. Alastor had hooked his arm with yours, as the both of you walked towards his hotel room.

Upon entering his room, you glanced around his room, admiring the pocket dimension he had created. It gave a calm tranquil vibe in the room, along with the static music playing from the radio in his room. Al had said nothing when the both of you had entered his chambers, and you wondered if he was displeased with something. "Um.... Am I in trouble?" You question him, twiddling your fingers together. Alastor quickly turned back around to face you, eyes widen before going back to normal, while a soft smile was placed on his face. "Heavens no! You are no form of trouble my dear, I can assure you. There is just something I need from you however." He walk closer into his room, removing his coat jacket and setting it on the chair next to his desk, revealing his red striped shirt that was hidden. He ventured closer to his bed, removing his black shoes before taking a seat on it while crossing his legs. His eyes went back up to look at you, extending his hand out, inviting you to join him.

Your face flushed for a bit, as you made your way over to where Alastor resided, taking a seat on his bed, facing him. The both of you sat in silence, before Alastor broke it. "If my memory serves me correctly, your demon form is similar to that of a sea siren. Am I correct, my dear?" He turned to face you, peering down at you while you looked at him. Your answer to his question was a small nod. "Splendid! That will be quite useful for me!" Alastor seemed almost giddy with joy, making you feel a bit confused. "Can I ask a question?" You asked Alastor. Alastor continued to stare at you, telling you to go ahead. "Why is my nature going to be beneficial for you?" Alastor eyes gazed into yours, as they were filled with confusion. Heaving a sigh, Alastor slowly grabbed your hand, giving it a soft squeeze. "As much as it pains me to say this, but I need your help, darling. I am aware of the soothing hypnotic voices of sirens, how there gorgeous songs allure sailors. I am asking you if you could sing for me, my dear." Alastor smile almost dropped a bit, his face holding a slight melancholic look as he continued to stare at you. You continued to look at him, before you asked him why you needed to sing to him.

Alastor heaved another sigh, rubbing his hair with his other hand. "It has been a drastically long time, since I have enjoyed the comforts of my own bed. However, falling asleep has not been an easy task for me, and along with the chores that I have completed for sweet Charlie. I crave a good rest now more then ever." Upon observing his face, you noticed the dark circles that appeared underneath his eyes. His smile as well seemed a bit forced, almost as if he was having a hard time keeping it up. Your heart ached for him, as you placed you squeezed his hand that was still holding yours. "I will help you Alastor, but there is something you have to do for me." Alastor raised an eyebrow at you, asking what it was that you needed. "Well, could you use your powers to soundproof the room? My siren voice may reach the others, and cause them to fall asleep as well." SNAP! Within an instant, Alastor had snapped his fingers, preventing any sound from reaching out the room.

With a nod of your head, you moved further back on the bed, waiting to make room for your transformation. A dark light enveloped your form, as your body became covered in black and white scales, and your legs had morphed together into a long mermaid tail, causing your pajama pants to slide off. Alastor continued to gaze at you in amazement, finding your form truly haunting while incredibly beautiful. Once you had completed your transformation, you leaned back against the pillow, raising both your hands up towards Alastor. Alastor stood stiff, confused at your actions. "Come here." you said, keeping your arms stretched out. Alastor realized what you meant, his cheeks become a tad flushed. "M-my dear, there is no need-" His words were cut off, as you pulled him down. His head had landed on your chest, as his whole body was placed on top of you, with his legs rested on your lower tail. Your arms wrapped around him, placing one against his hair, giving it a rub. "Shh its alright Alastor. I just want you to be comfortable okay?" Alastor hadn't moved when he was on top of you, apparently not use to actions like this. His body soon began to relax, as he nuzzled closer into your chest, moving his arms to wrap them around your back. His actions caused a soft smile to appear on your face, as you continued to play with his hair. "I'm going to start singing now, are you ready?" You looked down, waiting for his answer. Alastor peaked one of his eyes out from your chest, giving you a small nod. Giggling at his cuteness, you moved the hand from his hand to rub at his cheek, before placing it back on his red locks.

Taking a few deep breaths, you leaned your head back against the pillow. Soon, you opened your mouth, and began to sing.

(THIS SONG IS SO SOOTHING, I LOVE IT!!)

𝄞 Upon one summer's morning, I carefully did stray

Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay

Conversing with a bouncing lass, who seemed to be in pain

Saying William, when you go, I fear you will never return again

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold

His hair it hangs in ringlets, his eye as black as coal

My happiness attend him wherever he may go

From Tower Hill to Blackwell, I'll wander, weep and moan

All for my jolly sailor, until he sails home

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold

My name it is Maria, a merchant's daughter fair

And I have left my parents and three thousands pounds a year

Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be

Who love a jolly sailor that ploughs the raging sea

While up aloft in storm, from me his absence mourn

And firmly pray, arrive the day, he's never more to roam

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold 𝄞

Your beautiful song had ended, leaving the room in a calming silence. Looking down, you motioned your head to look at Alastor. His head was still nuzzled on your chest, the one eye that had peaked to look at you had closed. His breathing was slowed and he was letting out small static-like snores and a few purrs. Smiling warmly, you leaned closer to his head, giving it a soft kiss. Your hand left his head, and began to reach for the blanket nearby on the bed, motioning it to have it lay over both you and Alastor. You placed your hand back on his hair, giving it a comforting rub, as you leaned back against the pillow, whispering, "Good night Alastor."

Tag List:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes

[faebaex]

Tangled in Wonderland - A Simulation

author note: ... so this got out of hand and ended up being over 6500 words x-x really curious to see how you guys like it and react to the twist. i'm so anxious if you guys will enjoy it that i can't even right my usual rambly A/N!!

characters: Idia Shroud x GN!Reader, Ortho Shroud (Platonic)

Thump. Thump. Thump. Slam.

You sighed.

The sound of quarrelling which, through Ramshackle’s thin walls, sounded like it could be happening right next door to you.

The sound of a quiet but stern lecture, a voice full of authority that would not stand being questioned.

You rolled over in bed and checked the time on your phone. 7:00 am. On a Saturday. You groaned and rolled onto your stomach and buried your face in your pillow – not the best quality but comfortable enough – as Grim snored, spread out at the foot of the bed. You were pretty sure he could sleep through a hurricane.

Just why had you agreed to allow the NRC Tribe to stay here, again? Perhaps it was masochism?

But that didn’t do Vil any justice. He had warned you that tenacity was Pomefiore’s thing.

The morning after Vil had grandly declared that he had moved in was… Something. The best way you could describe it was that it played out like a fever dream. You had hoped it was, actually. You kept pinching yourself, hoping you’d wake up any moment. Of course, you didn’t.

You had woken the next morning to Vil knocking on your door. He was rather insistent, as he didn’t leave even when you ignored his knockings in favour of burying yourself further into the warm comfort of your bed. Finally, you dragged yourself out of bed and ripped open the door, glaring bleary eyed at Vil, who stood looking annoyingly immaculate for so early in the morning.

“I’ve prepared us some breakfast. I see you need time to get ready, but please do hurry. I have a schedule to keep.” Vil informed you, not even waiting for your response as he turned on his heel and walked down the hall. You grumbled and slammed the door shut, reeling both from the early morning veiled insult and the fact that somehow Grim had slept through it all, still snoring away peacefully on your bed.

You readied yourself as quickly as you could but took an extra few moments to smooth out your appearance more than you usually would. You’d be sitting opposite Vil Schoenheit after all, and you could really do without his comments this early in the morning.

You walked down to the lounge to see that Vil had indeed set the table up for breakfast. Mismatched bowls filled with yoghurt, berries, and some sort of… Seeds? A jug of orange juice also sat on the table, just enough for one glass each, along with a heartier jug filled to the brim with water. You had to admit, you hadn’t had such a healthy, well put together breakfast since you got there. Most days you had to forgo your breakfast entirely in order to stop Grim terrorising the school population before first period began. If this was Vil’s charm offensive, you could get behind it.

“This was the best I could do with your dorm’s… Limited implements,” Vil sighed as he drizzled a modest serving of honey on his own bowl of yoghurt before pushing the honey container towards you, “I would have brought my blender but I wasn’t if Ramshackle had running electricity.” Vil commented dryly, “does Crowley not ensure you have the needed facilities to live adequately? That man is shameless.”

Now this was a conversation you could get behind.

“Crowley doesn’t ensure anything ever.” You grumbled as you drizzled some honey onto your own yoghurt bowl under the watchful eye of Vil. The amount you put must have been satisfactory because he didn’t say anything, only began to mix his spoon in his own bowl.

“The prize money from the SDC would help change that. You could get yourself better kitchenware, maybe some more soft furnishings…” Vil began, and you rolled your eyes as you munched on some berries. Nice segway.

“Not interested.” You responded bluntly, although Vil didn’t seem too surprised by that. He picked up the orange juice jug, pouring you a glass first before filling his own, as manners would dictate. “Why are you so against the NRC Tribe staying here? You only stand to gain from doing so. Whilst there may be a bit of disruption, I’ve assured you that I would keep disruption to your routine to a minimum. I must say… I do find your stalwart refusal a little odd.” Vil stared hard at you now, and you tried not to visibly squirm from the intensity that he was studying you.

It seemed that all your efforts to not bring attention to yourself were doing the exact opposite in this situation. Vil found your behaviour odd, and Ace and Deuce had also found your behaviour odd when you didn’t attend the Pomefiore ballroom when you were requested to do so. It was rather annoying, actually, how all your hard work to be as unnoticeable as possible was turning out to be fruitless.

But if there was one thing you could rely on for a believable defence, it was the inherent selfishness of the Night Raven College students (and arguably, staff).

“Why should I go out of my way to help you? Regardless of what you offer, it sounds like a pain. I have to accommodate seven extra students? On top of all the trouble I get from Grim anyway? Sounds like a drag. Plus I enjoy having my own space.” You quipped back, your expression indifferent.

“Hmph. It seems like you fit in here more than you think.” Vil shot back sassily, an elegant eyebrow raised at your open self-centeredness.

All throughout breakfast you and Vil had an unproductive back and forth where he tried to gain some ground on getting the training camp to go ahead in Ramshackle. It was exhausting, but you managed to hold out long enough that breakfast was over and there was no reason to stay at the table any longer, for either of you. You were just leaving the lounge when there was a energetic knock on Ramshackle’s main doors. You sighed, wondering why someone else was now knocking on your door, but for all you knew it could be Ace and Deuce, wanting to walk with you to class. That reminded you that you needed to get Grim up too. Reluctantly, you walked towards the entrance, pulling one of the creaky doors open.

“Bonjo—”

You slammed the door shut.

“That was rude. Rook is here to walk with me to class. He also is delivering my blender.” Vil scolded, having followed you partially to the entrance, obviously predicting that it was Rook. You groaned loudly regardless of this, bumping your forehead lightly against the entrance door’s old wood. You had to deal with Rook Hunt now too? This was getting out of hand.

Grudgingly, you pulled open the door again, not bothering to mask your expression of displeasure as you stared at Rook, who stood with his usual enigmatic smile on your doorstep, with a blender tucked carefully under his arm.

“Ahh Trickster! How delightful your disgruntled expression looks first thing in the morning! Magnifique! Like a raging storm cloud threatening the blue skies! And Roi de Poison, as radiant as ever! Like the brightest of suns in comparison! Oh, how I wish I could burn this image into my mind forevermore!” Rook enthusiastically sang, and it was as if you could feel your mood plummeting in real time.

“Oh give it a rest…” You muttered under your breath, having to duck out of the way as Vil breezed past you and grabbed the blender off of Rook. “Yes, that is quite enough of that, Rook. There is no cloud on this earth that could threaten my shine.” Vil commented, disappearing back into Ramshackle to no doubt deposit his blender in the kitchen. “Of course not, beautiful Vil!” Rook eagerly agreed.

Now why were you catching back handed insults from both Pomefiore housewardens?!

You grumbled under your breath about this, but Rook didn’t seem to mind or care. He continued to smile at you, watching you with those ever-observing eyes.

“You seem agitated, Trickster! But might I say, you do look beautiful this morning. A fine colour to your cheeks and a wicked glint in your eye! I see that your shared breakfast with Vil has done wonders for your complexion and spirit already.” Rook continued, managing to look harmless and sly at the same time. Quite the feat.

How exactly did he know that you had breakfast with Vil?! Had he been watching you? You cursed internally, swearing to yourself that you’d buy some thick curtains for Ramshackle out of your next allowance. But knowing Rook, that wouldn’t be enough.

Instead, you glare at Rook and point a finger at him, which he watches with glee, as if he is enjoying the situation. “Stop talking.” You say firmly, and he holds his hands up genially, not at all offended at your shortness. In your opinion, Rook Hunt was a whole valid reason on why you didn’t want the NRC Tribe to stay at Ramshackle.

“Rook, it’s time for us to go. I don’t want to be late.” Vil declared as he strode out of Ramshackle, and you had to agree with Rook in that the run down exterior of Ramshackle didn’t take away from Vil’s shine in the slightest. It was quite amazing, and also kind of irritating. “You should leave shortly too, being late would be unbecoming of a dorm Prefect.” Vil sniped over his shoulder at you as he began to leave with Rook. Rook gave you a hearty parting wave, “farewell, Trickster! I do hope to be sharing a dorm with you soon!”

Not at all ominous, thank you Rook.

“And don’t forget about Grim.” Vil called, not even bothering to turn towards you as he continued on in the direction of Night Raven’s main school building.

Oh, damn it. Grim! You rushed back upstairs, on a mission to get Grim out of bed and out of Ramshackle before you were late and Crewel chewed you both out again.

After that, Vil was a semi-permanent fixture at Ramshackle. He would return in the evenings, no doubt after running the NRC Tribe ragged during practice, and then he would put you through your paces. He’d critique most of the things you did, and it wasn’t like his words of advice were unhelpful, it just didn’t help that they were delivered with the trademark Schoenheit sass. More often than not you were left reeling because he delivered his flyby judgments with such poise and poison, you were suddenly gaining a new appreciation for poor Epel.

Eventually you relented and agreed to allow the NRC Tribe to stay at Ramshackle until the SDC, but under very strict conditions. You would be receiving Vil and Rook’s share of the prize money if they won. You were not to be disturbed under any circumstances by the members of the NRC Tribe, and they were strictly forbidden from entering your bedroom. Groceries would be provided for the duration of the training camp. You also made it clear that you would not be responsible for any shenanigans that Grim pulled off during their stay, so not to even bother pestering you about it. And lastly, you would not be attending the SDC.

It was a difficult decision for you to make, but you realised that with Vil hounding you about allowing the NRC Tribe to stay, you were perhaps interacting with Vil way more than you potentially would during book five’s story path. A foul thought crossed your mind, Vil overblotting because negotiating with you had eaten into his preparation time for the SDC. At least with these conditions, you effectively minimised your role in book five to pretty much nothing, and if book five’s story decided to run its course like normal, then it was nothing to do with you.

Vil had stared at you with a knowing look when you first came to him telling him that you would agree for the training camp to go ahead, but his face slowly fell into a judging frown once you got to the end of your conditions.

“You don’t want to see your friends perform at the SDC? You do realise this is one of the biggest events of the school calendar? There might not ever be another opportunity for you to witness such a spectacle, let alone one that your friends are performing in. Not to mention… They’ve been working so hard.” Vil questions you, his tone almost scolding, and his eyes wrought with curiosity as to why you’d be so callous to the two who you’d known the longest since arriving here.

You kept your expression indifferent, giving an excuse that loud spectacles weren’t your thing. You did feel bad that you would miss Ace and Deuce’s big moment, but there was no way you could allow yourself to get dragged into a potential overblot situation again.

Of course, all of that felt meaningless now, considering that they weren’t even complying with the conditions that you had set out.

You could vaguely hear Ace complaining to Deuce about having to be up so early despite Vil technically giving them the morning off, whatever that meant. You hoped that the voices would eventually die down and you could get a couple hours more sleep, but the banging, thumping and voices went on and on. You even attempted to pass sometime by playing around on some mobile games that you had downloaded, a guilty pleasure that was a temptation too hard to resist when Crowley gave you the phone. But the noise never abated, and with a disgruntled sigh you got out of bed and decided to get ready for the day.

It felt weird being on campus so early in the morning on the weekend. It was mostly empty, which you assumed had to do with most students forgoing breakfast to sleep in, although there were a few early risers milling around campus. Some were heading towards the gates, likely heading out to town, whilst others made their way to the many other facilities that Night Raven had to offer. You yourself had decided to visit the mystery shop on a whim, thinking you could pick up a snack or two for during your breaks at the library.

You were walking up the path towards the shop when some… Large boxes came floating out the door… You stopped in your tracks, blinking several times. Were you that tired that you were seeing things now?

“Sorry Prefect, I don’t want to accidentally bump you!” Said a chipper voice coming from behind the boxes, startling you and making you hop out of the way. Behind the boxes was one Ortho Shroud, and suddenly the floating made sense. Not so much the boxes, though.

“Ah, my brother got a little caught up yesterday and forgot to do his usual food order, so I came to the mystery shop to pick up a few supplies to tide us over!” Ortho told you as he saw you eyeing up the boxes in his arms in confusion. He floated towards you where you stood off the path, and gently placed the boxes down, and they were nearly as tall as you were! Just a few supplies?!

“What are you playing?” Ortho asked enthusiastically, and you belatedly realised that you had one of the mobile games you had downloaded open on your phone, and muscle memory made you want to close it down immediately, but Ortho’s big, excited eyes made you feel too guilty to do so.

“Oh, uh… It’s just a game I downloaded, I don’t know much about it…” You fielded awkwardly, hoping to brush the topic away but Ortho only floated closer to get a better look at the screen.

“My brother plays that one too!!” Ortho gushes with glee, the sudden burst of elation catching you a little off guard. Really? This didn’t seem like Idia’s type of game… You swear you vaguely remember him saying he wasn’t that into dating sims… Although, you did suppose this one wasn’t a conventional dating simulator at the very least.

“But what happened to your screen?” Ortho asked, ripping you out of your thoughts, his head tilting to the side curiously. Now that did make you lock your phone to attempt to hide your shamefully cracked phone screen. Kalim, that’s what happened, you thought dryly. “Oh it’s nothing,” you said quickly, “I just had a small accident with it. It still works just fine!”

“Let’s get my brother to fix it!”

Oh no.

Ortho was beaming at you, eyes sparkling at the idea. You could feel your heart sinking.

“Oh no, no. I wouldn’t want to bother him! It’s totally fine, I promise!” You said hurriedly, hoping to derail the idea and make a quick escape, but it seemed like the idea had already firmly taken root in Ortho’s brain.

“It wouldn’t be a bother! My brother is really good with machines, he’ll get it fixed in no time! Plus, you two can talk about that game together! I’m sure he’d love to know there was someone else on campus who likes the same game as him!” Ortho encouraged.

Ah. So that was what this was about.

Book six had Ortho really encouraging Idia to share his gaming interests with the other students at Night Raven. Considering that the Ignihyde chapter was the next in line after book five, it did make sense that Ortho was taking this coincidence and running with it, considering you had just made it a thousand times easier for him to do so by just happening to like the same game as his beloved brother.

… But how were you supposed to say no to those eyes?! How were humanoids allowed to have such heart wrenching eyes?! It wasn’t fair.

You chewed on your bottom lip in indecision. It would be useful to get your phone screen fixed, even to stop Vil’s sassy barbs that he kept firing at you whenever he caught sight of it (something something “your belongings are a reflection of you” something something, blah blah). And this was Idia you were talking about here. He would probably freak out as soon as Ortho brought you to his room, fix the phone as quickly as possible and kick you out. Win, win?

“Okay, sure.” You relented, watching as Ortho lit up even more at your positive response. You swear you saw his hair get brighter. “But I can’t stay for long, I have other things planned for today.” You stated firmly, giving yourself an escape plan if needed. Ortho still seemed delighted regardless, moving once again to pick up those ridiculously large boxes he had been carrying. You followed suit, picking up the box from the top of the pile, much to Ortho’s surprise.

“It’s okay, I can carry them!” Ortho assured, but you shook your head, adjusting your grip on the box. It was a little heavy, but nothing you couldn’t handle. “Nah, I can’t let you carry them all by yourself. Besides, this is the least I can do if you’re going to fix my phone for me.” You remarked casually, beginning to walk with Ortho towards the Hall of Mirrors.

“You’re very kind, Prefect.” Ortho hummed, seeming quite taken with your courteous gesture.

The walk to the Hall of Mirrors from the mystery shop wasn’t long, and as you stepped through the Ignihyde mirror, you realised that you’ve never actually really seen the inside of the Ignihyde dorm. Sure, the game lets you buy Ignihyde backgrounds such as the entrance and the lounge, and you can get Idia’s dorm room as a background on his birthday, but other than that, the Ignihyde dorm has largely been a mystery compared to the other dorms. You had no idea what to expect.

It was… Very white. And shiny. Kinda made you wish you had brought a pair of sunglasses. The hallways were deserted, and you felt like you stood out like a sore thumb. You suddenly started to feel uneasy about the whole thing.

You followed closely behind Ortho as he led you to Idia’s dorm room, not trusting yourself not to get lost. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, even with the boxes he was carrying partially obscuring his view.

“Ortho, are you sure this is okay?” You asked, unable to hide the unease in your voice. Ortho didn’t stop, continuing to float along the hallways and making turns where necessary. “Don’t worry, Prefect! It’ll be fun! We’re almost there!” He insisted, and you very much felt that you and Idia were about to be in for a very unfun time. Ortho suddenly turned and opened a door that you would have missed if it wasn’t for him, as it blended into the wall so well.

“Idia, I’m back!” Ortho announced, floating in nonchalantly. You followed awkwardly, managing to bump the door closed behind you and place the box you were carrying on top of the other ones that Ortho had left by the wardrobe.

You took a moment to glance around the room. It wasn’t… As messy as you thought it would be. Wow, the background you can buy in the game really doesn’t do it any justice. That or Ortho cleaned up.

“Ah Ortho! Come check this out! I finally beat the final boss in that boss rush and got some cool new— Gah!!”

Idia had swivelled in his chair to look at Ortho but saw you instead and almost tumbled straight out of it with the way he flinched backwards, face morphing into terror. You gave him a small smile and waved awkwardly, but that only seemed to make it worse.

“I invited someone over!” Ortho stated cheerfully as Idia ducked behind the high back of his chair to avoid being seen. Rather fruitlessly too, considering you could still see his characteristic flaming hair.

“I-I can see that, Ortho! W-w-why did you invite an extrovert into my room?!” Idia complained, trying to keep his voice low but not really succeeding. The interaction was so odd to watch that you wondered if you should leave but settled for looking away instead. Ortho didn’t seem bothered at all, smiling at Idia like nothing was wrong.

“This is the Prefect from Ramshackle! I ran into them at the mystery shop, and they helped me carry our shopping back! Wasn’t that kind of them?” Ortho rambled on, floating over to his brother. Idia seemed to pluck up the courage to peek over his chair to get a better look at you, prompted by Ortho’s words, but when you looked back towards him, he shot back down in his chair, the ends of his wispy hair turning bright pink.

Wait, was he blushing?

“B-but Ortho…” Idia stammered out, but it seemed that Ortho had no mercy for him today.

“The Prefect’s phone screen is broken, and I told them that you could help fix it!” Ortho piped up over Idia’s stammering, his smile taking no prisoners, “you can help them, right Idia? Something so simple won’t even take you ten minutes.” Ortho encouraged, beaming smile still on his face.

Talking tech seemed to kick Idia out of his fluster somewhat, and you could hear Idia’s back thump against his chair as he opened one of his desk drawers and started rifling through it. “Tch, typical normies with no protection on their device, then crying when it gets bodied. So noob coded…” Idia muttered under his breath like he’d forgotten you were right there as he finally found what he was looking for, pulling the kit he was looking for out of his drawer and placing it on his desk.

Ouch.

He pushed his keyboard back, assumedly making space to him to work. “Gimme. The quicker I fix it, the quicker they leave, right?”

“Prefect isn’t a normie! They play the same game as you!” Ortho retorted and you cringed, as you sincerely hoped that wouldn’t get brought up into conversation before you could leave. But apparently, Ortho had taken it upon himself to defend your honour from his brother. Lucky you.

“Show him, Prefect!” Ortho compelled you, and you would almost find it funny how he was basically strong-arming Idia to have an interaction if it didn’t involve you. You sighed internally, powerless to Ortho’s big eyes, and walked slowly towards Idia’s desk, loading the game up on your phone. You held it up, arm outstretched so you didn’t get too close and give the guy a heart attack.

“It’s this one. I don’t play much, but this is the game I play the most. I at least make sure to login every day to get the bonuses and stuff…” You mumbled awkwardly, not actually understanding why you felt so awkward either. It wasn’t like it was a big deal. But suddenly your phone was snatched from your hand, and you were startled to see that Idia had grabbed it.

“You play this too?! I’m so into this at the moment. How far are you in the story? What cards do you have? Who is your favourite? Ugh, this screen totally kills the vibe. Hang on, let me just…”

You blinked in surprise as Idia rapidly fired off multiple questions about the game at you before putting your phone on his desk and hunching over as he got to work. It was like he was a completely different person. You knew it was the case that he could become very lively when he got to talk about his hobbies and interests, but seeing it happen in person was… Truly something. You looked between him and Ortho, with Ortho looking absolutely delighted about the interaction, and gesturing for you to take a seat on Idia’s bed whilst he worked.

“Oh, uh… I’m not very far in the story, I cleared the prologue but that’s about it. I don’t get the chance to play often… I don’t get many chances to roll the gatcha either, I never have any currency…” You answered. You didn’t really know any of the characters well enough to say what cards you had or who your favourite was, so you kept quiet on that.

“Sounds like you’re still in noobville. I’ll teach you how to play, but first I have to… Whee hee hee…” Idia volunteered, his voice pittering out as he got more entranced on working with your phone. The room lulled into silence, and you began conversing with Ortho instead, random giggles and mumbles from Idia in the background as you and Ortho chatted. Midway through one of your conversations with Ortho you noticed that Idia had been working on your phone for way longer than ten minutes. Now, you had no idea how long it took to replace a phone screen, you were no engineer. You also factored in that Ortho could have just been bigging up his brother’s ego when he said it would only take him ten minutes, but did it really take that long to fix? It felt like you had been in here way over an hour…

Ortho was projecting some clips of his favourite video games when Idia finally swivelled around, brandishing your phone with a manic grin.

“The freshly refurbished Prefect Custom Gamer Deluxe! I replaced the screen and reinforced it so it won’t break again but still has high grade touch screen sensitivity. I upgraded the battery to a larger capacity model so that you can game for longer, and of course a 2TB memory card. The original memory was awful, where did you get it? Sam’s bargain basket? Kek.” Idia gushed about your newly juiced mobile, fully in his element, “I didn’t know what your preferred colours are, so I didn’t add any custom lights. Blue’s good, though.” He commented, and that is when he finally caught you blinking at him, staring rather blankly.

“… Did you get any of that? Sigh, noobs OTL…”

You didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth, so you quickly snapped yourself out of vacant stare and quickly spoke, “I think so… It means I won’t have to delete anything to update my games anymore, right?”

That seemed to be enough, because he was smiling that startingly sharp toothed grin again. “Exactly.”

The room fell into silence again, with Idia seeming to realise that he’d burst out into a rave about his interests. He held out your phone towards you awkwardly for you to take, and you stepped forward quickly to take it, but Ortho was faster.

“Show the Prefect your cards on the game you both play!” Ortho insisted cheerfully but forcefully, clearly not willing to let this interaction between you and Idia ends just yet. You don’t know if it was because it was a game, or because he had been suitably warmed up from the tech talk, or Ortho’s wide, eager eyes. Maybe even a combination of all three, but either way, Idia agreed.

“So… Uh… Did you hear all the aggro online about what’s happened?” Idia muttered as he waited for his game to boot up. It booted up a lot faster than yours usually did. Is that what he did to your phone? If so, you weren’t going to complain.

 “Can’t say I have…” You answered honestly, and Idia scoffed lightly under his breath. “Oh right. I forgot you’re a casual.”

Why did it sting when he said it like that?!

Idia spent some time giving you some tips on free ways to get in game currency so you could roll on the gatcha more, and even recommended some social media accounts you could follow to get information on future events so that you could plan your resources and gatcha rolling accordingly. It was… Pretty helpful, actually. It was oddly nice to just chat innocently about a hobby for once, instead of constantly having to have your guard up in case someone tried to screw you over.

Idia made you boot up the game on your own phone (which you were pleasantly surprised to notice loaded up just as quickly as his own) and took a look through your card collection. He wasn’t impressed (“do you even statgrind?”) but gave you some advice regardless on who your best cards were and the more effective way to power them up, so you didn’t get locked out of the story when you progressed.

“Now show them your cards, Idia!” Ortho suggested yet again. You hadn’t missed his thrilled expression as you and Idia had been chatting, realising that he was likely delighted that Idia was talking to someone in person for once. But he was being awfully pushy about Idia showing you his card collection, even when the conversation didn’t need to be facilitated by him…

The tips of Idia’s hair went bright pink yet again, and you couldn’t resist raising a brow. What was he so embarrassed about? They were just cards, right? Idia tucked his chin in, turning his screen away suddenly. “I-I-I don’t know, my collection is pretty a-average…”

“No way! You have so many cards, show them!” Ortho tugged on Idia’s arm, with Idia trying to hide his phone in his lap, “or I’ll just project your cards for the Prefect to see!”

Idia sat up straight, looking very panicked at Ortho’s oddly specific threat. “O-okay, okay! Let me just…” He tapped away at his phone, and you had no idea what he was doing, but eventually he turned the screen back to you, showing you his card collection in all its glory.

Wow. He had tons of SSR cards. Even some UR cards… By the look of it, he seemed to only go for the ultra-rare cards of the same characters, so they must be his favourites. You looked at his card collection, nodding appreciatively and making a comment here and there, but otherwise you didn’t really have much to say. Idia’s hair was still tinged pink, and even his cheeks had an awkward half blush for reasons that escaped you.

Out the corner of your eye you saw Ortho staring at you rather insistently, as if he was urging you to keep the conversation going. Just why were you allowing yourself to be exhorted by this kid? Clearly, Ortho Shroud’s powers of compulsion know no bounds.

“Who is your favourite character?” You blurted out, hoping that would satisfy. To your surprise, Idia’s hair burned brighter, the pink flaring up at your question.

“O-oh, um… I-i… I can’t show you, because of… You know, all that aggro online…” Idia mumbled under his breath, looking down at his lap. What was up with him?

Either way, now your curiosity had been piqued.

“Tell me about the drama.” You asked, although you supposed it came out sounding more like a demand. Idia looked up at you suddenly, staring at you for a long moment, “… a-are you sure? It’s pretty long…” He mumbled, and you nodded anyway. Perhaps this would finally satisfy Ortho and then you could make your exit.

Idia’s demeanour entirely changed again, his elbows landing on his knees and he leaned towards you, his hands caging his phone. “This has been big news in the community. Like, God tier discourse. Everyone has come together to try to figure out what is going on, scrubs and tryhards alike. People have been mining the data files, I’ve tried hacking the serv—”

“Wait, wait, wait!” You stopped him, waving your hands to get him to slow down, “tell me what happened before you talk fandom dramatics.” Idia rolls his eyes but acquests.

“So a couple of months ago, something happened to the game. I’m not talking a limited time event or anything like that. I’m talking one day, every logged in for the next daily login period, and a character was missing.” Idia informed you, and you raised your eyebrows at this.

“Like, gone?” You questioned, and Idia nodded, frantically enough that his wispy hair bounced a little. You scratched your cheek, finding yourself slightly intrigued in this despite just doing it to get Ortho off your back. “I don’t think I follow what you mean…” You admitted, almost a little sheepishly, “how can a character just be gone? Wouldn’t you still have their cards?”

Idia, to his credit, didn’t seem to be bothered by you not following, only nodding along eagerly with your train of thought. “Right? But that is where it gets even weirder…” Idia begins to tap at his phone again, changing the filters on his card collection before turning the screen back towards you again, “because the cards are still there, but the character is missing.”

The sight was eerie, almost ominous. You deduced this character must be one of Idia’s favourites, considering how many cards he had, all maxed out. It made sense why he was so invested. But the cards themselves, they were…

Empty.

The cards were still there, in his collection. The background of the cards was still visible, even the other characters that appeared in the art were still there. But the character the card belonged to? Gone. Just an odd, inky smudge left in their place.

“That’s…” You couldn’t finish your thought, finding yourself at a loss for words at the bizarre, oddly chilling sight.

“Right?!” Idia hissed, really getting into the conversation now.

“Surely it must be some sort of event, right? Something to do with the story?” You tried to reason, and Idia shook his head wildly.

“That’s what we all thought, at first! Maybe they were springing some big event on us that none of the info trading accounts had managed to dig up. Sure it was a bit early for a Halloween event, GG developers, but it wasn’t like that hasn’t happened before.” You nodded along to Idia’s logic, this was exactly what you had assumed. The creepy feel of the cards definitely gave a Halloween vibe.

“But the official game pages never posted anything about it. And they weren’t responding to comments or messages about it either. So, we started to wonder if it was an update gone wrong, or a bug, and the devs were going to patch it. But still, we heard nothing from any official channels.”

You were staring at Idia, transfixed by this odd phenomenon. You’d never had anything of the sort happen in any of the games you had ever played, that’s for sure.

Idia’s cheeks flared a little pinker as he continued, “I-i have every one of that character’s cards, so I was able to check that it wasn’t just one card that had the issue, it was all of them. Other players reported the same issues, so that’s how we knew it was a game wide issue. The devs finally issued a statement, some vague BS about how they would be troubleshooting some issues with the game but not exactly what they were trying to fix. I personally think the devs have no clue what’s going on. Which is stupid, who doesn’t know what’s happening with their own software? Is it amateur hour over in that studio…” Idia finished, starting to mutter under his breath.

You mulled all this information over. Wow, clearly fandom drama in Twisted Wonderland was way more over the top than in your world.

“That’s really… Wow.” You hummed, which you thought summed up the situation quite well. You were pondering over it, eyes back on your own phone as you opened your card collection back up. You guessed you hadn’t noticed because you hadn’t rolled any of that specific character’s cards in the gatcha. You were kind of grateful, actually. It probably would have given you a fright.

“Uh…” You heard Idia hum, and you looked up at him, seeing him watching you with an apprehensive expression, “I have something to show you, if you want to… See… But you might find it weird…” He said slowly, his posture more hunched than before.

“Oh, okay?” You nodded, waiting for him to continue. You wondered if you were making him uncomfortable and had overstayed your welcome, considering Idia was starting to become more withdrawn again. His social battery was probably starting to go flat. You’d leave after this, you decided. Maybe quicker, if he was going to show you something really weird.

“The character is gone from the game’s cards, but they still appear in promotional materials that were posted online. Do you… Want to see?” Idia asked hesitantly, and whilst you found the way he asked the question a little odd, you had no reason to decline.

“Sure, why not? I feel like I’m invested now.” You smiled at him, but he didn’t smile back, only turned his gaze to Ortho. “Ortho, can you project the promotional art?”

“Easy! Searching promotional art… Loading… And, done!”

… … …

You felt your blood run cold instantly and you couldn’t stop the look of petrified horror that froze upon your face.

Projected onto the muted walls of Idia’s bedroom, in crystal clear clarity, was the promotional art of the character that Idia had been telling you about, just as he had asked Ortho to do. There was no inky smudge replacing their appearance, and they were posed rather dramatically, the norm for promo art. But something about it had your heart stopping in your chest and your hands trembling in your lap…

The promotional art…

The promotional art looked exactly like you.

[jolapeno]

9. breath of fresh air

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter nine of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.3k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: this one is called jo kicked her feet mid-writing and editing.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Baby, where are you?

I’m coming now just needed to get some plants.

If you’re the forest on wheels coming towards me line up somewhere else.

Wow, that's mean, Morales.

I am. But also, that’s a fuck load of plants.

It is and we’re going to have so much fun naming them.

Surrounded by unopened boxes, and paint tins that are due to be put on the wall, you both sit cross-legged on the floor of your soon-to-be office floor.

It's hard to stop it, the smile which spreads across your lips. The scent of fast food flows from your ripped-open bag and his neatly opened one, as you watch him turn his cap backwards and dig a hand into the paper bag as he pulls out a sauce pot.

Of course, he still finds a second to glare at the plant behind you.

“It’s up for debate, but french fries might be the way to my soul.”

Dipping his own into the sauce, he smirks. “What’s the other contender?”

You, you think.

It's there, threaded inside of you. Sewn in now. Stitched so deep into you that he’ll be remembered forever, no matter what.

Meeting his eyes mid-chew, the word you reverbing around your skull. Echoing. Practically marking itself against any surface space it can in there.

“Your mouth.”

Choking, his hand is quick to cover his mouth, eyes alarmed, quickly filling with tears as he continues to hack. Sliding his drink towards him, across the floor of the project that brought him here today.

“You can’t…” he begins, taking another mouthful, “Do that to me.”

Smirking, you grab another handful of fries. “From the gleam in your eyes, I say you like it.”

“I am not gleaming.”

“No? Damn, I’m disappointed.”

Rolling his eyes, he nudges you with his foot—your eyes glancing at the dinosaur-covered socks for the twelfth time since he’s been here.

“Luca has good taste in socks.”

“You’re telling me,” he replies, “I also have Batman ones, some cartoon ones and ones with flowers on.”

Smiling, you continue to chew. “Which ones are your favourite.”

Scrunching up the paper your food came in, you throw it into the bag. Watching him take a final bite of his own as you smirk.

“It’s the flower ones, isn’t it?”

“Definitely the flower ones.”

Laughing, tongue peeking between your teeth, you lean back on your hands, legs outstretched. “Saving them for a special occasion?”

Nodding, he takes another slurp of his drink, feeling his eyes drag up and down your legs. “Thought I could wear them for when I woo you later on this week.”

“Yeah? You want to model your socks for me, Morales.”

“Dinner and a show I heard is the perfect date night.”

Wiping his hands on his napkin, he stares at you—clean hand on your ankle, massaging it.

“You keep doing that, and we won’t be building furniture.”

Groaning, he sighs. All deep, layered with confliction—until he whispers it: after. It’s low, practically dragged through the gravel of his voice by the time it reaches your ear. Heat spreading through your stomach, not able to tear your eyes from him, just thankful that he does when he goes to stand.

A moment of reprieve, a chance to collect yourself.

That is, until he stretches out his hand, sliding yours into it as he pulls you up to stand. For a moment, just paused—staring at him, a tuft of curls poking through under the rim of his hat.

“I told you how handsome you are,” you say, arms sliding around his neck, leaning close—just enough, to press your mouth to his. “Cause you are.”

Biting the edge of his lip, he smirks. “I’ve got a utility knife in my pocket.”

“Oh?”

Brows lifting, grinning, Frankie pulls you closer. “You into that?”

“On you? Fuck yeah.”

Your lips glide over his, tasting the salt from his fries and the onion from his burger. Not caring, not as you hold him close, keeping him flush, deepening it until he clutches your jaw, walking you both back, kicking a box.

“Fuck.”

Almost laughing, you smirk. “We should…”

Tongue swiping over his lip, Frankie nods. Gaze unmoving even as you step back, bending to tidy the wrappers and bags as you glance back periodically.

“What?”

Shaking his head, he shrugs one shoulder, eyes widening as he smiles. “Nothing. Jus’… hurry back.”

It leaves your lips breathlessly, the word sure. It flows through the air to him, before you leave the room, before giddiness swallows and smothers you up. A grin not easily wiped by your knee connecting with the cabinet as you skid into the kitchen. Dousing your hands in cold water, hoping the temperature will touch your cheeks and cool them.

Thinking of him waiting near the checkout—broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his worn

You do. Almost skidding in your kitchen when you throw the trash away, pausing at the sink to wash your hands, before you’re casually walking back. Doing so, just in time to see him slide that knife along the flat-pack furniture, unboxing the drawers—staring at them all crouched wearing a furrowed expression with an IKEA pencil behind his ear.

And you’re glad he doesn’t look up at the doorway, because it gives you a minute, to lean, head resting as your heart skips a step, feeling all large and full and full of happiness. A feeling, one surging up inside of you—full of lightness and truth—swirling around your breath and trying to form into words.

But, then he looks at you. Lifts his chin, the biggest brown eyes smoothing out to look at you—and you’re sure the words are going to rip out of your throat. Forced to greet the air, and burn themselves into it.

I really like you, Frankie.

I really, really do.

Each letter swallowed back, sight dropping to the knife he holds back—an act you’re apparently quite into from the way you feel the heat in your stomach, a little ripple of want starting to stir as you slowly edge your way into the room. Listening, hanging onto his words as he offers suggestions of how the two of you can do this.

It’s why it makes sense, at first, when he asks if you’d begin building the drawers while he begins the carcass. His toolbox he’d brought in with him opening, pulling various tools you’re not sure were listed on the instructions.

It continues to make sense until you realise you began constructing the drawer, incorrectly. A disappointed voice ebbing, beginning to nip. It breeds in doubt as you study the paper again, and again. Mouth opening and promptly shutting as you try to make heads or tails of what should be a very easy thing.

But that means confessing you’re about as hopeless at building as you are at the rest of the DIY project.

Peering at the instructions again, you try not to sigh. Try not to let a heavier exhale escape through your nostrils, and possibly showcase your growing anxiety-brewed annoyance.

Because you hope he’s not having you build drawers because it’s easier. Because he views you as this hopeless thing that can’t be taught. Even if, in some ways, that assumption would be correct. You just hope that it isn’t pity or any other negative connotation that has begun popping into your mind and bursting behind your eyes in sorrowful falling dark-hued confetti.

An increasing need to prove yourself rising, flooding you as though it wishes to drown you. Making it hard to swallow, never mind breathe—eyes glancing down as they begin to burn with worry, with annoyance and a lot of other emotions you’re struggling to handle—

“Hey,” he says, soothing—hand cupping your cheek as you're tilted up from diagrams to his eyes.

The ones that soothe, that calm—that feel like a safe place.

“Hi.”

Slowly smiling, he strokes your skin. A thing you’re not sure you’ll ever tire from. Not ever. Not as long as his eyes remain as kind and full of warmth.

“I was calling out for you.”

“I’m so—“

“Wondered,” he continues, interrupting, burying your apology before it meets land and plants itself, “If you wanted a go at helping me build this bit.”

Swallowing, both the emotions that remain fizzing and the worries, you smile. “You sure? I’m not… this isn’t something I’m good at.”

“That’s why I’m helping. To teach you, right?”

Nodding, you grin when his lips find your forehead, helping you up before grabbing something from his toolbox. If newer, shinier than the one you’d seen him using—a colour as close to the one you’d said was your favourite.

“Did you buy me a tool, Butterscotch?”

Scratching the back of his head, he tries not to blush. A thing you can tell from the way he averts his eyes, and pink creeps up his neck. “Yeah, it was nothing. Just thought it be easier for you to have your own.”

“My own… prodding device?”

Shaking his head, his eyes land on you. “It’s an electric screwdriver.”

“Of course it is, I was testing you.”

Snorting, he grabs a piece of wood, bringing it between the two of you. “I almost believe you.”

You think Harry would hire me even if I know absolutely nothing about hardware or tools?

To annoy me, most probably. You doing okay?

Not really.

They want more tweaks?

Yeah. I don’t mind making the changes, but wish they’d been more clear from the beginning. So I don’t feel like a failure.

You want me to call in half an hour? Can try and make you smile.

You make me smile effortlessly. But no, it’s okay. I’m going to enjoy a shower and have an early night. Sleep off my bad mood and rest my muscles from building all that furniture the other day.

You goof.

A goof who has your toolbox and her own electric tightener.

That will sound so wrong to anyone else.

Especially if I tell them it goes with my bedside power tools.

Are they what I think they are?

Maybe.

Fuck. Put thoughts in my head now.

Do I look hot?

Always. Will you message me in the morning?

Of course, baby. Try not to dream of me.

Impossible, baby.

Just got out of the movies, was able to eat half the popcorn tub before a jump scare made it mysteriously land on the floor.

Do butter-caked fingers have anything to do with it?

No. I believe the leading cause was a mean friend picking a movie that they knew would scare me. The jury is still out on whether I could have saved the popcorn if properly notified of the jump scares.

You both have fun though?

Yes, a lot. Even if I won’t sleep for a week. I’m excited to see you tomorrow. I’ve missed you.

You’ve missed me?

Try not to grin too much, Morales.

Too late for that, Rainy. I've missed you too.

I've missed butter-SCOTCH fingers.

Can tell me how much later, if you want?

Do you want to phone sex with me, Morales? I think I'd rather make you wait till tomorrow when I see you.

Now who's mean.

It’s hard to avoid the smile on your face, even in the fogged-up mirror. Water dripping down your neck, collecting in the towel wrapped around your chest as Frankie presses his lips to your hairline.

“You feelin' clean, baby?”

“I don't think what we just did in your shower could constitute as cleaning, Butterscotch.”

Smirking, skin radiating heat, Frankie tips your chin up, mouth sliding back over yours like he had done when the two of you had stepped under the shower. The intention innocent, until hungry eyes raked over bare skin.

"Robe's on the back of my bedroom door, baby," he whispers, leaving you to finish drying in his bathroom.

As though it’s normal, routine.

Your toothbrush beside his—the products you’d packed in your overnight bag on the side of the counter.

It's a thing that makes your teeth bite down on your lip and your fingers retraced the path he drew against the suds on your skin. Thinking about how the water fell down along his jaw, ran down between your bodies as he hiked your leg up—

You jump when a clatter pulls you to the present. Heart fluttering, body resting against the side of the basin as your breath dances with the steam. Even if he's rooms away, you hear him singing.

It travelling, calling to you.

A soundtrack to you re-dressing as you hang the used towel on the hook, sliding some clean clothes on, before padding out to wrap the robe around you and grab his t-shirt from the bed.

With each step to the kitchen, you're aware of how your body smells of his body wash. A scent you wish your skin only ever smells like now, if it can’t be his aftershave. Just so you could have a piece of him, a thing to go with the texts, phone calls and video chats when the two of you find moments in between the busy.

There's no need for that tonight, not as he’s cooking for you.

Shoulder resting against the door, you find yourself not wanting to announce your arrival. Just take in his frame, how his back is to you, allowing you to watch how his muscles flex along his bare back as he grabs a knife from a drawer.

“You know, if you posted this kind of video on your Instagram, I think you'd beat that one where you're showing people how to paint wood."

Glancing over his shoulder, you hold the top up. His face shifts into gratitude as he drops what's in his hand and takes it from you. Simple, a very nothing thing that his face seems to show the opposite of.

He fidgets uncomfortably, the shyest smile trying to appear. “Shut up.” 

“While you were very informative about preparing the wood before beginning in that video, I think I know how you got one hundred thousand views in a weekend.” 

Smirking, he folds his arms. “Because you watched it on repeat while you missed me?”

“No,” you grin, watching him run his tongue over his teeth to stop himself from smirking. “You like to do a little thot-shot.”

“A what-what?” 

Licking your lips, leaning against the wall, watching his fingers run up and down his bicep, arms still folded. “You wipe your face with the bottom of your t-shirt, Morales. Showing off your… physique.” 

“Mierda.” 

“You look very good. Had to watch it myself a few times, to be sure.”

His eyes dart away, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I mean it,” you add. “You look really good, Frankie.” 

Stepping forward, you kiss his cheek. The heat from it warms your lips as you try to hide your grin. Instead, pulling out a stool from under his island and sliding onto it, elbow on the worktop, you rest your chin. Watching him turn, facing back to the ingredients and pans.

That's when you spot it. The loose curl that has fallen over his forehead as he leans forward. It just hanging there. Slowly beginning to sway as he resumes chopping and slicing.

“What're you making me?”

“Special asado tacos.”

It’s hard to suppress the whimper in the back of your throat as your stomach rumbles, his chin lifting—brow raising as you try to clear your throat.

“Sounds delicious… what makes them special? Is it the chef?”

Smirking, he shakes his head. “It’s a family recipe. So, I hope I don’t fuck it up.”

“I doubt you could, right? It’s in your bones.”

Shrugging, he stares down at some paper—his pinky flattening it, before he brushes the chopped peppers into a pan and grabs something else.

“I don’t make it often.”

“How many times have you?”

Pausing, he doesn’t look up. Just stops his knife over the skin of the vegetable.

“Frankie. Is this the first time you’ve made it?”

“No,” he answers. Quickly, red rising up his neck. “It’s just… the first time I’ve made it for someone.”

Licking your lips, you smile—fingers outstretching over his counter, it cool under your touch. “Oh, you like me, like me.”

Smirking, he continues to chop and dice, shooting glances at you. “Maybe.”

“I think you do.”

The precision he cuts with makes you almost forget your teasing—your own name, even. The quickness of it, the perfect way they’re all cut. It’s enough to make your thighs press, a new competency unlocked it seemed—as though you were both collecting and becoming aware of them all at once.

Distantly, you hear your name. Briefly aware as you flick your gaze up, of the concern etched there—the sudden silence damning.

“Hm?”

Grinning, shaking his head as he slides the chopped food away. “I said, what makes you say that?”

Sighing, all deep—almost soothing, you smile. “Well, you named all my new plants with me.”

“I did do that.”

Nodding, you roll your lips as he uses his little finger to trace down the recipe in front of him.

“And you didn’t judge me for the fact they all needed a name.”

Casting a glance your way, he both frowns and smiles simultaneously. “Baby… I’d… I’d never.”

“I know,” you say, encased in confidence, sitting up straighter, “Because you like me.”

Shrugging, he begins moving around, collecting ingredients—the back of his hand brushing over his forehead. “Maybe you’re on to something.”

Humming, you shift on your stool—watching. Finding it hard not to keep your eyes on him, not as he moves around confidently, capably, sprinkling things in and adding pinches of others.

It isn’t until he seems more content, that things are doing what they’re supposed to, do you slip from the stool. Moving towards him, sliding between him and the worktop as your fingers brush over his cheek—an act so similar to the shower, before his hand slid between your thighs and made you struggle to stand.

“I like you too,” you whisper.

His eyebrows raise at the suggestion, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Is that so?” he asks. “Well, guess if we both like one another, that means I am allowed to ask something…”

Sucking in air through your teeth, you scrunch your nose. “I don't know, do you think you're allowed?”

Pinching your side softly, he smiles. “I wanted to ask... what we are, what are we?”

Narrowing your eyes, you roll your lips, fingers continuing to twist his curls around your nails. “What do you want me to be?”

Shrugging, he smiles—eyes slowly crinkling, all slow in the way they eventually narrow, mouth parting, basking you in human-made sunshine.

“You want me to be yours?”

He groans, it vibrating through you, hips rolling against his as he presses you to the counter. Body somehow humming, even after earlier.

“Want to be mine, Francisco?”

His hand grasps your hip more intently. “More than anything.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Nodding, you tug him closer too, bodies flush, little space between the two of you. “All yours.”

His nose slides against your cheek, before his forehead rests on yours. His eyes almost blend into one large brown oasis—almost.

“Now I’m your girlfriend, do I get extra privileges?”

Frowning, he steps to the side, stirring the cooking food—one hand on your hip, as though not wanting you to move.

“You know, show me how to use your power tools?”

Snorting, he rolls his eyes. “You say mine like others are different.”

Smirking, looking at him with the most innocent eyes you can fake, taking his hand in yours. “They’re different from mine.” Frowning, he stares for a second, seemingly baffled. “Mine aren’t used to build things, rather… make legs shake and make me cry out your name.”

You hear his swallow, as well as see it.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he lies, stirring again. “Jus... Y’just incredible.”

Picking up a piece of pepper, you smile—all wicked. “Oh, I know. And aren’t you lucky I’m yours?”

THEY'RE BACK, GOD I'VE MISSED THEM. next week, we enter a spicy chapter (muhaha) and a nice little announcement about them too.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[javiscigarette]

Bad Mood

Joel x f!reader (pre/no outbreak)

Summary: Based on this ask (thank u nonnie)!! Joel punishes bratty reader that's it

Warnings: SMUT! NSFW 18+ no use of Y/N, established relationship, straight up filth not much else, dom!Joel brat!reader, spanking, fingering, orgasm denial, oral (m receiving)

Word count: 3k

A/N: Using this as my 450 follower celebration! I'm so grateful for everyone who's followed me and enjoyed my silly little fics. I love this community <3. Also, this is relatively short but I am already planning a part two to this so stay tuned hehehe. my masterlist

Joel knew you were in a bad mood the second you walked through the door. 

The door slams behind you and carelessly toss your keys on the little entryway table. You keep your headphones on as you kick off your shoes and stomp off to the bedroom, not even bothering to look at Joel who’s sitting on the couch in the living room not even six feet away. 

Joel stays silent as he watches you stride down the hall to the bedroom, wincing just slightly when he hears the bedroom door slam shut. 

You keep your music blasting as you immediately change into your comfy clothes. Today was a horrible day at work. Your boss has been breathing down your neck for the last two weeks about a project you're working on, nitpicking every single detail and telling you to make a million changes. And today, despite all the edits and changes she told you to make, she still picked it apart, telling you that you were better off restarting the whole thing. 

And now you were left with a day and a half to “fix” this project before it’s due. So yeah, you were in a bit of a bad mood. 

After changing, it’s straight to stress cleaning. With your headphones on, you storm back into the kitchen and start to pull out all of the cleaning supplies from under the sink. Your music is loud enough that you don’t hear Joel clearing his throat behind you. You only notice that he’s there whenever you stand up and turn around. He says something to you and looks at you expectedly, forcing you to stop your music. 

“What?” you snap at him, ripping out one of your ear buds. 

Joel raises his eyebrows at you and holds up his hands in innocence.  “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Your narrow your eyes at him because how dare he interrupt you right now with his genuine love and care for you. 

“No.” you reply firmly, putting your earbud back in. 

You go to start cleaning, but Joel is saying something else before you can even pick up the rag. 

You rip your earbud out again and actually snap at him this time with a “What Joel?!”  

Joel tilts his head with his eyebrows raised, giving you a silent warning to lose the attitude. 

But the last thing you need right now is someone else telling you what to do. 

“Can I please just clean the damn kitchen in peace?” you ask, your words biting a little harder than you intended but you don’t care. 

Joel stares at you for a good five seconds, his jaw subtly shifting and clenching as he grinds his teeth. 

“Okay.”

That’s all he says before turning away and walking out of the room. 

You immediately feel a pang of guilt seeing him walk away, but the anger is quick to wash it away and cloud your head again. 

You spend the next thirty minutes scouring the kitchen from top to bottom. Every cabinet door and every drawer you open is shut with a slam and you scrub the countertops so vigorously that your arm is starting to get sore. 

Thinking he’s given you enough time, Joel comes back in, standing near you as you scrub away at the spot of burnt on food on the stovetop. You can see him in your peripheral, standing a foot or two away from you but you ignore him. You already told him to leave you alone once. 

He stands there for a few moments, trying to get you to look over at him but he eventually gives up and just takes out one of your earbuds. 

The saying “seeing red” never made much sense to you until just now. 

“What the hell, Joel!” you shout, finally turning to face him. The anger boils up inside of you and you can feel your whole body heat up you try to snatch your earbud back from him but he’s faster than you and holds it up high to where you can’t reach. 

“Joel I’m so fucking serious right now, just leave me alo-” 

Joel takes out your other earbud and tosses them to the counter behind him before you can say anything else. 

“Joel!” you nearly scream, your face red hot with anger now. 

“Quit acting like a fuckin’ brat” Joel says quietly, his tone serious and stern.

“I’m not being a fucking brat, you’re the one annoying the shit out of me right now” 

Joel’s eyes narrow, trying to mask his shock at your attitude. You’re rarely ever this angry and you almost never take it out on Joel like this. 

“Drop this attitude right now and I’ll give you one more chance and act like you didn’t just fucking say that” Joel says, his voice audibly tenser. 

You roll your eyes and reach for your earbuds again, but again, Joel is faster than you and pins your wrist to the counter with his hand. 

“Joel, just fuck off” you mutter. His grip on your wrist is so tight that your fingers are starting to tingle from the restricted blood flow. You look up at him and immediately realize how fucked you are. His face is hard as stone, a deep frown tugging at his lips while he stares holes into your own eyes. 

“Okay, baby. You want to act like a brat, I’ll treat you like a fuckin’ brat” Joel spits before tugging harshly on your wrist and dragging you out of the kitchen. 

“Joel, I am not in the mood right now” you say as he leads you to the living room, nearly pulling your arm out of socket as he does. 

“I don’t give a fuck.” Joel says firmly. He stops near the couch and release his grasp on your wrist. 

“Now get on your knees and shut that mouth up with my cock.” 

You snort at his words and laugh right in his face. 

“You think I’m going to blow you right now? You’re the one who should be apologizing to me” you snarl, accusingly poking him in the chest to emphasize your words.  

Joel is still as a rock as he stares at you again, the darkness in his eyes already starting to break down some the resolve inside of you. 

“You’re gonna regret that, baby.” Joel whispers from behind clenched teeth. 

Without another word, Joel grips your wrist once again and steps towards the couch. He sits down and pulls you until you’re standing in front of him before pulling down your shorts and panties in one go. He then pulls you down into his lap and even though you try to fight back, Joel is a lot stronger than you and easily maneuvers you until you’re on your stomach laying across his lap with your face pressed against the couch cushion and your ass in the air. Joel keeps a firm hand on the back of your neck, pinning your head to the couch with your face smushed against the cushion. 

He uses his other hand to rub your ass, the soft shorts you put on earlier easily riding up and exposing most of your skin. You try to wiggle out of his grasp but there’s no use. He’s not letting go of you now. 

“How many do you think you deserve?” Joel asks, his voice steady and calm again now that he has you like this. 

You don’t say anything, just humph and try to squirm out from underneath his hold again. Bad idea. The grip on the back of your neck tightens and then the room is filled with the loud crack of his hand coming down heavy on your ass. 

You yelp in surprise, tingles of pain radiating from the spot here he spanked you. Your determination to keep up this attitude is quickly crumbling. Joel knew exactly how to put you back in your place. 

“I think at least 10” Joel says before delivering two more harsh smacks to both cheeks. You bite back a whimper, still enough willpower to try and not let him see how affected you actually are. “Starting now.” 

Your eyes roll back, and your brows furrow deeply as he gives you another hard spank. The moan in your throat comes out through your nose as a sharp exhale as you keep wiggling in his lap. 

Joel’s hand comes down on you again, the loud sound echoing in the otherwise silent house. “And we’re gonna start over if you don’t count them for me.” 

Another spank has your eyes squeezing shut. “That’s three then” you pant.  

“Nope, we’re starting from the beginning” Joel says before connecting his palm to your ass again. “That’s one.” 

You try twisting out of his grip once again and his next smack is even harder. 

“Stop trying to escape or I’m gonna add more. Now count for me” 

You stop wiggling, slowly starting to accept defeat. 

“Two.” 

Joel hums in approval and lands another harsh smack to your cheek. 

“Three” you say obediently, still trying to cover the tremor in your voice. You’re still fuming and the fact that he has you pinned down like this, completely unable to move is fueling your fire. 

Another smack.

“Four.” 

By the nineth, you’re clinging to the last shred of your control. Your cheeks are burning hot, your skin raised in the shape of Joel’s handprint. By now, you can feel him fully hard pressing against your abdomen. 

“Nine.” 

Joel can hear the tremble in your voice now, clear as day. He silently rubs his palm over your cheek, soothing the warm, swollen skin. 

His soft touch is gone as soon as it came, his fingers quickly finding your slit instead. With no warning, he plunges two fingers inside of you, easily curling his fingertips against your g-spot. 

“Yeah, I knew you’d be fuckin’ soaked” Joel says with a breathless chuckle as he keeps prodding against your spot, the lewd sounds of his fingers moving inside you echoing around the room. You cry out in surprise as Joel relentlessly punches his fingers against the spot that sends massive waves of hot liquid pleasure up your spine. You try to swallow your moans, still refusing to give in to him all the way and bite your lip until you taste the metallic tang of blood.  

“Just give it up, baby. I know you want to” Joel coos. And he’s right, you want nothing more than to just give it up and let him put you in your place. But you can’t give up just yet. This wasn’t the first time Joel has punished you and every time he does, there’s something inside you, an urge to find out how far Joel will take your punishments. 

So, you shake your head as much as you can with his hand still holding your neck against the couch cushion.

 Joel clicks his tongue disapprovingly letting you know that you made another bad choice. You suppress a groan when he pulls his fingers out of you. He takes his hand off your neck and grips both of your cheeks and spreads you open. You quietly hiss at the bite of the cold air against your burning wet heat. 

“Such a pretty pussy” Joel whispers as he leans over to get a good look. It takes everything in you not to moan and wiggle your hips in his face as he keeps you spread open and inspects you. 

Then there’s the sound of Joel spitting behind you. You swallow thickly, pushing down another moan once you feel the warm liquid dribble onto your skin and slide down between your cheeks. Your chest tightens at the sensation, and you bite your cheek as a hot wave of arousal crashes down over you. 

He sits up straight again, his hand quickly coming back to wrap around the back of your neck and hold you in place again. With his other hand, he finds your puckered hole and rubs over it with the pad of his thumb, using his spit as lube. You let out one small whine when the tip of it catches on your rim. 

“C’mon, angel. Lemme hear those pretty sounds and I’ll let you cum” Joel presses.

You can’t possibly hold out any longer. Not with your skin hot and burning from your spanking, his fingers pushing hard against your g-spot, his thumb teasing your asshole and the big, strong hand holding you down by your fucking neck. 

There’s nothing you can do to stop the loud moan that tumbles past your lips as he moves his fingers reach deeper inside of you until he presses a spot even deeper inside you. 

“There it is” Joel sighs, his chest swelling with pride as you tremble and start to fall apart underneath him. “That’s a good girl.” 

He stays in position for a little longer, your pretty sounds filling the room as he gives you exactly what you need. You’re already close because of course Joel knows how to get you there in just a couple of minutes. He knows your body almost better than his, knows what makes you tick and recognizes all of your signs. 

So, it’s not surprising that he hears the specific moans and can feel the way that you clench around his fingers, wordlessly letting him know that you’re about to reach the edge. 

And it shouldn’t be surprising when he suddenly slips his fingers out of you and lands a final smack to your ass, heavier and louder than all the others, but it still makes you cry out. You whimper at the loss of his touch and the way the burning pain radiating from his hits mixes so deliciously with the pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“Count, angel” Joel says calmly, giving you a friendly reminder that you’re still in trouble.  Five minutes ago, you would’ve ripped his head off for saying that. But obeying is a lot easier when you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm. 

“Ten. Ten, sir. Thank you” you mewl. You know that he’s probably not going to let you cum soon. You’ve been here enough times to know that much. Still, you wiggle your hips, hoping that he’d go easy on you and slide his fingers back inside you. But Joel is not known for going easy on anyone.

“Good girl using your manners” Joel praises. “But you were a very bad girl earlier. Do you think bad girls deserve to cum?” he asks, quickly washing away any of your hopes of an orgasm in the near future. 

Joel doesn’t say anything else as he maneuvers you again, pushing your legs to the ground and holding down on your shoulders until you’re kneeling in front of him while he remains seated on the couch. 

You look up at him with wide eyes, your chest heaving as your knees dig into the hardwood floors underneath you as you stay still and quietly wait for his instructions. You have no fight left in you, completely surrendering to him just in hopes of being able to cum at least once tonight. 

Joel smiles down at you and cups your jaw. You immediately nuzzle against his palm and bat your eyelashes innocently at him. 

“Now suck my cock like a good girl I know you are.” 

You follow Joel’s command easily and reach for the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull down his pants and boxers to his mid-thigh, his hard cock slapping up against his lower abdomen. 

With no other preface, you take him in your mouth, your lips wrapped around his tip as you roll your tongue all around his sensitive head. And apparently that’s more than enough teasing for Joel because his hand comes up to the back of your head and forces you down his length. 

You gag at the sudden intrusion and try to quickly recover, not wanting to give Joel another reason to punish you more. His hand remains heavy on your head, holding you in place with his cock down your throat as you drool around him for a few more seconds, your cunt throbbing between your legs as he uses you. 

“Gonna fuck that attitude right out your smart little mouth” Joel huffs. 

You give a small nod, and he lets go of your head, letting you pull off for a breath. He watches you intently as gasp for air, smirking when you start to cough. 

“My cock too big for you, angel?” Joel teases as he brings a thumb to the corner of your mouth to wipe up your drool before pushing it back in your mouth. You shake your head no and Joel smiles at you and removes his thumb so you can talk. 

“No, sir. I can take it” you reply breathlessly. 

“Yeah, I know you can, angel. Now show me how good you can be for me.” 

With another small nod you take him back in your mouth. His hand returns to the back your head and he rolls his hips up, pushing himself down your throat.

You stay as still as possible, keeping your mouth and throat open and letting Joel fuck your throat. You’ve had him in your mouth almost every day since the first month you met him, but your jaw already starts to ache like it’s impossible to get used to the sheer size of his cock. Drool starts to spill out of the corner of your mouth again and you shamelessly let it run down your chin.

Joel shows no mercy, bucking up into you like he’s completely disregarding the fact that you need to breathe. But you know he’s not. You know he has a careful eye on you, watching for signs that he’s pushing you too far. 

“Takin’ me so well, angel. Knew you could be good for me” Joel grunts, encouraging you to keep going as the hand on your head briefly pets your hair. 

All the anger that had been building for the past couple of days has dissipated. All the stress about your job and your ridiculous boss were miles away and now the only thing you're thinking about is Joel's thick cock down your throat.

You stay there for what feels like forever and allow him to use you as he pleases. Your neglected pussy clenches desperately around nothing, slick leaking down your thighs because how could you not be turned on with Joel using you like his personal fucktoy. 

You’re now drooling everywhere, absolutely soaking his cock as you breathe heavily through your nose, your eyelids heavy. And as much as Joel wants to continue to fuck your mouth until your jaw breaks, he can’t hold back his own pleasure for much longer. 

After a couple more thrusts down your throat, he abruptly pulls out and His hand is a blur as you watch him fist himself for a couple of seconds until he starts to cum. His moans and little whimpers send fire straight to your core as he paints your face with hot ropes of cum. He’s messy with it, letting it get everywhere, your chin, your mouth, your cheeks, and your hair. You mewl quietly and press your thighs together searching for any sort of friction on your dripping pussy as Joel marks you, claiming you as his.  

You patiently wait for him come back down, listening his quiet groans as he pumps out every drop. 

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he leans back against the couch and drops his hand from your head again. 

“You look so pretty all covered in my cum, angel” Joel says with a lopsided smile. You smile sweetly back at him, your eyelashes fluttering against your flushed cheek. He swipes a thumb through the mess on your cheek and slides it past your lips. You suck his thumb clean, swallowing down everything he gives you. 

He revels in the sensation of you suckling on his thumb for a little bit before slipping it out with a soft pop. You look up at him, waiting for his next instruction with the hopes of having your own release soon. 

“Knew you could be good, angel. Now go finish cleaning the kitchen and then I’ll think about letting you cum.” 

Your jaw drops as you stare up at him with wide eyes. Joel just laughs cruelly at your expression. 

“But...but Joel, please I want-”

“Should’ve thought about that earlier, angel. You know bad girls don’t get to cum. Now get up and finish cleaning” Joel says with a sickeningly sweet tone. You blink at him a few more times hoping he’d miraculously change his mind. 

But he doesn’t. So, with your attitude completely gone now, you follow his directions and shakily stand up. You give him one more pathetic, pleading look but he just smirks back at you. Accepting defeat, you turn and walk back to the kitchen.  

“And don’t even think about cleanin’ your face yet” Joel calls out from behind you. 

Ty for reading hugs and smoochies for all of you!!!

[issdisgrace]

Look what can be requested and I am so excited! It can be one of Ghost being married and after a long time finally 141 meets her husband who is someone so nice, kind and cute to everyone, attractive and a bar owner, he could meet 141 when they go to a nice restobar and boom! they see Ghost's handsome husband.

THE BAR​

WARNINGS: Nothing really other than Ghost threatening Soap​

A/N: I’m gonna to make a part 2 of this later on fyi​

We got back to base the other day and tonight Price decided to take us out for drinks, said he knew a great place nearby. Needing a drink, I decide to go on with this little adventure and in the end we ended up at a bar that is all too familiar to me. It was my husband Y/n’s bar, the one that he took so much pride and joy in. The sight of it made me feel warm inside knowing that he would be in there tending bar like normal. But it also made me worried the guys didn’t know about Y/n. I made sure of that, but now there was no way to get out of this situation. They were going to find out tonight.

Entering the bar, there were few people scattered about, typical for a Tuesday night. Y/n like I expected was behind the bar tending to the people that were sitting at it. His motions were elegant and fluid, making him look angelic. Angelic, angelic was a good word for him. He looked like he was ripped from a fashion magazine and realistically Y/n could have anyone. But he wants me and that makes me feel good like really however I digress.

We made our way to a table towards the back near the restrooms. My back was to the bar as we all sat and figured who was paying for what round. We came to an agreement and settled on Price, Soap, Gaz, and then me. Right before Price could ask us what we wanted I felt arms wrap around my waist and a kiss on my cheek. The look of utter shock written on others’ faces was comical. Already knowing who it was I leaned back into his chest welcoming his familiar warmth.

“Want your normal darling.”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I’ll get that for you right away and the drinks are on the house for your friends.”

“Thank you, love.”

“No problem.” He says before giving me another kiss on the cheek before leaving. Looking back at the guys, they are still in shock. It’s like that for a minute or two before Soap says,

“What the fuck just happened? Who the fuck was that?”

“He’s my husband Y/n.”

“HUSBAND?” They all questioned.

“Yes, husband. We’ve been married for 4 years so far, but we’ve been together for 8 years.”

“9 years coming up in 1 month, 3 weeks, and 5 days.” Y/n says, coming up behind me, setting my drink down in front of me and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I smile at that. He has always kept track of any anniversaries or birthdays. I suspect he keeps track to the hours, minutes, and seconds, but I’ve never asked.

“Oh right, how rude of me I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Y/n, I’m Simon’s husband and you guys must be Price, Soap, and Gaz. It’s nice to meet you guys. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“The Lt. talks about us?”

“Yes, He’s told me quite a lot.”

“Aww, that’s sweet Lt. You do love us.”

“Fuck off Johnny.”

“You love me Lt.”

“No I don’t. I only love Y/n.”

“That’s cute.” Gaz says.

“Sickly cute.” Soap adds.

“Leave Simon alone you two. He’ll give you hell tomorrow.”

“Alright Captain.” The two say in unison. Prices are right. If they keep it up, I’ll make tomorrow's training a living hell for them. Before I voice my agreement to Price Y/n chimes in,

“As much of a pleasure it is to meet all you guys I still unfortunately have a bar to run. So what will you guys be drinking tonight?” They team orders and Y/n gives me a quick kiss before heading back to the bar to make their drinks.

“So Lt. How did you manage to bag such a hotty?”

With all seriousness I say, “If you so much as look at him in any way other than in a friend type of way I will gouge your eyes out and feed them to you.”

I see horror flash in his eyes before he says,

“Alright, alright Lt. No need to get violent. I’ll behave scouts honor.” He holds up the boy scout hand sign.

“You’ve never been a boy scout Soap. I don’t think they would’ve even let you be one.” Gaz says.

“Rude, I would be a great boy scout. “

Price lets out a chuckle at the two, shaking his head. I join him and just shake my head. I can tell this is going to be long night.

[brilium]

❥ K I N K T O B E R 2 0 2 3

Masterlist

➽──────────❥

❥ DAY 23. Costumes! with Eren Jaeger

Summary. Jean is throwing a halloween party that you and your best friend Eren are planning to go, but things seem to take other way when Eren helps you to tie up the corset for your pirate costume and you tease him for only buying a not so simple Ghost Face mask.

Content Warning. Fem! reader, no use of Y/N, all characters are adults, smut, vaginal sex, overstimulation, choking, small degrading, fingering, thigh (knee?) riding, dacryphilia, breeding. No proof read, might edit later.

Word count. 2,745

MINORS OR AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT !!

“Eren— Fuck! B–Be more gentle!” You say in a strangled whine as you try to hold the bath counter with a strong grip.

“I–I’m trying but—” He sighs, biting his lip as the veins on his arms start to pump up thanks to how hard he’s holding while the other holds your stomach firmly to keep you straight. “K–Keep like that for me, ‘kay? I’m almost done with you.” He groans, using all his strength to not let you escape the painful air in your lungs.

You nod, struggling to breath as you shut your eyes hardly while he finishes behind you and you finally let your chest release all the suffering.

“It 's done. The damn corset is tied up, is that okay?” 

Eren steps backwards a bit to let you see your reflection on the mirror and see the finished look of your pirate costume. You smile widely, looking at every angle of how well the corset fits you and you turn at him making small jumps on your spot.

“Absolutely! What do you think? Am I a intimidant pirate?”

Eren looks up after massaging his sore forearms, finding the front view of all his work tying the corset behind you: Your breasts look so fucking good pressed against each other and sneaking out slightly through the collar of your buttoned white shirt, and he’s not letting slip how also your skirt lifted a little, again, thanks to the hold of the corset.

He uses all his strength to not jump over you and rip all your clothes to only leave you in that corset to fuck you like a beast and just nods biting his lip as his eyes try to focus on the bath wall behind you.

“Eren! Look at me in the eyes and tell me if my costume is good! C’mon, I didn’t want to spend a fortune on a costume for only one night” You hit his arm playfully, and he snorted softly, looking everywhere but at you.

“Oh, you say that now? After how you joked about me by just coming with a Ghost Face mask?” He teases, walking out of the bathroom and lying in your bed and distracting his brain with all the lines on the ceiling to not let his hard crotch keep growing.

“At least you’ve could came with that kind of robe that he uses” You say, giggling as you sit beside him and play with the loose hairs on his forehead.

“Yeah, when I asked my mom if she could lend me one of her dresses for a party at Jean’s house you should've seen how her eyes almost went white.”

You laugh audibly, sending shivers through your best friend’s spine, 

Eren's plan was just to take a few drinks in your apartment before driving you both to Jean’s halloween party. That was the plan until he arrived and the first thing that you said was “Can you help me to tie up my corset?”

His brain is fully trying to focus on your words, on your talk about how your week went or something about a grumpy lady on the market. But his body acts against his will when his hand flies to your nap and brings your face down for a kiss.

You whimper at the contact of his lips, staying still at the first contact, but slowly melting into his lips as he starts to suck on your lips with a softness that makes you sigh against his lisp when you start to move yours.

Eren is ruining the gloss that you carefully applied on your lips while his hand on your nap makes a mess on your hair that you spend hours to let it dry and comb it to look nice. His heavy sighs and cologne are also having and effect on your body that is going to ruin all yourself if you let him keep going.

“Eren—” He shakes his head when you pull back, pushing your head down again to slam his lips on yours, making you whine softly against his lips even if you’re enjoying his taste. “Eren!”

You pull back with more strength, trying to straight above him while you support your hands on his chest to look at him all blushed and with dilated pupils.

Fuck, he looks hot. So damn hot.

But he’s your best friend.

“We should stop, Eren” You say, breathless and feeling your heart sink in your chest as you can’t look away from him, even if your phone is ringing on your nightstand. “We’re best friends, I— I’ll can’t see you the same if we keep going.”

Eren shrugs, not breaking the contact on your nap and starting to caress your neck with his fingers, sending tickles along your spine.

“Won't you see me the same way?” You nod, trembling above him. He thinks about it a little and sighs, looking up at the pillows and extending his arm to grab his mask, resting near to them. “And if I cover my face?”

You frown, looking at him with confusement. He surprised you by moving his hands to your waist and push you to the bed to lie on your back while he gets on his knees above you, straddling above you with his knees on the sides of your thighs and lifts his shirt above his head to take it off and show you his toned chest.

You swallow your saliva, feeling how your heartbeat starts to fasten while you see how his pectorals go up and down heavily.

“Fuck— Your tits look so much better with this position. I hope that this shit will let me keep seeing you clearly.” Eren groans while he puts on the mask to just let you see the iconic face of Ghost Face but with the difference that his body is the muscular body of Eren that you’ve seen a lot of times.

Especially, the detail that can’t let you forget who it is is his necklace. He never takes off  that necklace of a key that he never takes off, even if his father who he hates gave it to him.

But God, he looks so good like that.

Your core starts to get more soaked picturing the image of his necklace dangling above your face as he pounds on you.

Eren bends over you putting his hands on the sides of your head to look at you face to face— Or well, mask. You can hear his hard breathing through the plastic of the mask, but you're unsure of why only being able to look at that weird face makes you hornier.

“Is this better?” His voice sounds deeper through the echo, hypnotizing you with every word.

You nod desperately, bringing your hands to his chest to caress it up and down, passing softly the tip of your nails along his skin and receiving a sweet groan from him when you scratch it softly near to his hip bone.

“Can I be a little rougher?”

You nod, holding firmly his hips with your nails as his hands start to travel from your neck to your shoulders and resting on your breasts, giving them small squeezes. 

Fuck Jean’s party, you can even let Eren rip your mattress in half if it means to keep hearing his deep voice asking how much can he ruin you.

He makes you jump slightly on your spot when he grabs the sides of your white shirt and pulls at opposite sides to rip in in two halves that he tosses to the floor. You whine in response, looking down at the small pieces that remain on your chest that barely cover your clothes breasts with your bra.

Eren’s hands slide down to your back, giving you chills as his hands unclip your bra and you let him slide it along your arms to take it off and throw it somewhere.

“You shouldn't have helped me to put on the corset if you were planning to have me naked.” You smirk, trying to hold your moans when his hands go to your bare breasts and make you sigh in pleasure at the sensation of his cold rings against your skin.

“Oh no, Dear.” Eren smirks, moving a little his knee to be between your legs and rub it against your clothed cunt, breaking your hold to make you whimper as he keeps going, “The only thing staying in you is that fucking corset.”

Eren laughs softly when you start to bring your hips back and forth against his knee for more, moaning softly as he stops squeezing one of your tits to move it along your thigh and rub your skin up and down, enjoying how you squirm harder every time that his cold rings touch a little too close to your core.

“So whiny, so needy.” Eren groans, rubbing his knee harder against your folds, opening them slightly under the underwear and feeling the start of his thigh rubbing on your clit so softly but perfectly. “It could be that it turns you on so bad to be touched by a masked man? Fuck— You’re so horny that you’re even going to make a mess on my jeans and I’ve barely touched you.”

You bite your hand to hold your moan when his leg finds the right peace, making your body tremble as you squeeze your breast between your fingers as he keeps going.

“Mo–More— Please, Eren. More, ruin me more.”

Eren snorts behind the mask, bending closer and rubbing harder against you, getting your moans louder inside the four walls of your bedroom. He lets go of your breast to hold your jaw firmly to make you look at his masked face as he leans his head to the side looking at your blushed face.

“Yeah? Do you want me to be rude?” His voice is husky, you can notice how needy is also him.

“Yes—! Fuck, yes!” You plea, rubbing harder your core against him as you start to ride the warmth of your pleasure about to explode. “M–More!”

He laughs deeply before moving his hand to your neck and squeezes it with a strength that still lets you breathe with struggle as he moves back and forth against you until your hips get messier against him.

You’ve tried choking before, but never has turned you on as hard as this time, Eren’s necklace swings side to side while he keeps moving between your legs until your tears start to sneak out from the bordered of your eyes as your view gets blurrier between the water and his strong hold on your throat.

“You’re about cum, slut. I can feel it in the fucking mess that you’re making in my knee. Fuck—” Eren groans, breathing heavy while your moans fill his ears “Cum, cum like a good slut for me!”

You start to struggle to breathe as the orgasm hits you, letting out strangled moans as you sob his name while your hips shake and rub against him when you feel your folds creaming over your underwear and trespassing to his jeans.

You tremble and shake, still moving your hips against him to ride the orgasm as long as you can while his hold on your neck softens as he watches you trying to calm with your lips half opened and how your tits tremble softly as you breathe heavily.

Eren lets go of your neck to let you relax while you try to regain composure while he takes off his jeans standing at the edge of the bed. He waits for you to calm and surprise you again by holding your hips and pulling you closer to him.

You giggle when he pulls you, feeling like a doll every time that he moves you as he wants, but your laugh stops as soon as you see him naked in front of you and only wearing his mask.

Ok, now you understand a bit why he is so insistent on keeping on the corset.

Feeling like he just read your mind, he pulls down your skirt along with your underwear and tosses it to the floor. He grabs the behind of your knees to lift them and put your ankles on his shoulders.

You’re so exposed that it makes your cunt drip in need, even if there’s still one piece of cloth on your body it feels like you’re fully naked. 

“You look so hot.” His hand stops holding your ankle to rub two of his fingers up and down along your wet folds and makes you moan softly as you soak around his fingers. “Fuck— I’ve could tried everything, everything, just to not let anyone at that party see how hot you look with that corset.”

Your hips tremble everytime that his fingers tease you by pushing the half inside and pulling out to spread your fluids around your folds and clit. You want him, you want more than only his fingers.

“Eren… Just fuck me, please—” You moan loudly when his fingers get fully inside without resistance, clenching around him immediately and making you squirm on the bed, trying to hold the sheets between your fists.

“Should I?” His fingers curl, touching your sweet spot and making you roll your eyes, but you hold your insides to not let the orgasm hit you until you feel that aching cock filling you. “Why should I risk the image that my best friend has of me? Is it worth the risk?”

You hate him, you hate him so bad. As bad as you need him.

“Eren! Please, I was stupid, just fuck me, please!” You cry, feeling his fingers fasten his peace and the knot of your orgasm getting softer.

Eren pulls out his fingers and hits you insides with his cock with one stroke that fills you with barely pain due to your dripping walls. He feels so good inside: so hard and thick that your eyes start to tear up again.

He holds your legs on his shoulders with his hands to keep you all spreaded as he pounds fiercely inside you until his tip again finds the spongy spot that makes you squeeze him harder and starts to slam against it in a non-stop peace.

Your vision goes blurry, but you’re still able to see his mask glaring at you and turns your moans louder at the view of his necklace doing the opposite to what you expected, his almost glued to his chest with his sweat and it feels so much better than what you imagined.

For Eren, the view of your tits bouncing above the corset is gorgeous, they look so soft and bouncy, he would suck them until they’re all bruised if it wasn’t for his mask.

You both start to moan louder as the orgasm gets near, and you can’t keep holding when your cunt squeezes around his length with the second sweet orgasm that covers all your body as you cover him with your fluids. Eren keeps pounding with struggle through your strong grip on his cock, but at the same time helps him to ride his orgasm with your pussy milking him with every thrust and loud groans.

Eren keeps hitting a few times as his cum fills your cunt until  it’s dripping on the sides of his base and he pulls back slowly to let all his weight fall over you, making you cough and hit his sweaty shoulder.

You’re both sticky with sweat and cum, but comfortable.

“You’re too heavy.” You protest, pinching his arm.

“You’re too noisy.” He snorts, taking off his mask and throwing it to the floor to look up at you.

His forehead is sweaty and his hairs are glued to his face, the view makes you laugh softly as you clean him with the back of your hand.

“Yeah, clean it. I’m all sweaty on the forehead because someone was saying that ‘She couldn’t look at me the same’” He makes a lame high pitched imitation of your voice and you blush, hitting his forehead softly.

“Shut up! I’m also almost dying of asphyxia with how tight you tied this corset.”

“But your tits are so soft and squishy, just like a pillow” He says, rubbing his cheek on your breasts and making you laugh.

But, still, you both enjoy the moment.

Maybe trying to turning things a little different might be good.

@softlilpeachxx

[the-scythes-pen]

Ratio x Reader

I threw this together for my dear friend's birthday! ♥ sorry it's not that great tho, my brain feels fried ;w; hopefully it's still ok though... </3

edit: rip copy + paste from google docs shredded any italics </3

-----------

“…and where do you think you’re going?”

You’re barely able to even squeak before a pair of strong, muscular arms wrap tightly around your waist and drag you back into the warm body they belong to; the sheets falling back around your body and embracing you in tender warmth just as the man behind you does.

You can feel his breath across your neck and jaw, can feel the way his strong hands so gently caress your skin, just barely teasing the bottom of your breasts.

His voice is groggy, low, and almost a growl due to him still being half-asleep, his eyes still closed and his face buried in your hair as he just barely is able to remain conscious.

“…Veritas, I gotta get up-”

Your protest is cut off by his deep sigh, and his biceps squeezing you just a little tighter.

“I do believe I told you to keep this day free of any activities, and yet you still have something you must do…”

“I couldn’t just say I can’t go, it’s mandatory-”

“That does not sound like it has anything to do with me, does it? Thus, it isn’t my problem if you happen to be late- or neglect to show up at all.”

Now it was your turn to sigh. Why was he choosing now of all times to be stubborn? He knew you had to go, and it wasn’t like he was one to encourage this type of behaviour.

“You will not be severely punished for being late, yes? So stay with me a little bit longer.”

Oh, how you wish you could. With his firm chest against your back, his arms wrapped around you oh-so-tightly, and his scent all around you. It really was heavenly here.

“Veritas, I can’t…”

You try to move again, to swing your feet over the edge of the plush bed, but Veritas is swift to pull you tighter against him.

“Stop moving. I still have a bit of time to sleep in. Do not make me angry, darling.”

A thought passes through your mind- what if you want to make him angry…? No, no- bad- you really shouldn’t! Ah, but it is really comfy here, and you are still tired…

Your hands idly wander his forearms as your eyes close, letting out a breath through your nose as your body sinks back into the mattress. “To think that I must let you go on a day such as this…” Veritas grumbles into your ear, his voice rough and husky. “…it truly is a travesty.”

You can feel his arms squeeze you just a little bit tighter, as if he knew that you didn’t want to leave him either, as if he knew that you were a bit worried about today, and wanted to keep you safe in his arms.

It’s a few minutes before you realize you nearly dozed off like this, wrapped in Veritas’ embrace, and you decide to take advantage of his seemingly loosened hold of you- pushing his arms off of you to pull yourself up to sit on the edge of the bed.

Before you could even make it all the way up however, you were suddenly yanked right back down into bed, your back hitting the bedsheets and your head once more on the pillow; and when your mind finally caught up with what was going on, you saw Veritas’ intense honeyed eyes boring into you from above.

“I told you to not make me angry, darling.” He says in that gruff, morning voice of his. “And yet you still insist on being difficult.”

Your face blooms into a deep blush, red decorating your cheeks as Ratio smirks in response to your own reaction.

He knows how much you love his physique, how much you love to see his bulging biceps and thick pecs.

However, Veritas Ratio is also aware of just how much you love his dick.

So when he sees your eyes dart away in shyness, sees how your breath catches and how your face becomes several shades darker, he’s more than willing to bring your focus back to him.

“No no, darling, look at me when I am speaking to you.” His thick fingers grasp your chin, guiding your face back towards him before tilting your head down.

His thick, erect cock laid heavy on your navel; his tip just reaching your belly button.

“Do you really think I’m going to allow you to escape when your mere presence provokes such an animalistic response in me? No- I’m going to teach you how to take care of what you’ve caused…”

[ghcstao3]

more mi6 ghost and sas soap i beg!!! it itches something in my brain so hard!!!! i love ur writing sm ur sosososo talented <333

(original post since it’s been so long i am so so sorry. also apologies if it's paced weirdly i never had much of an idea where to take the original prompt. thank you though, for supporting my writing :) <3)

-

Soap would never be so naive as to expect a warm welcome from a team of elite agents, but the cold shoulder he's thus far received from one of said agents hardly seems necessary in its place.

He's barely even said a word.

The haughty bastard keeps staring at Soap, too, like Soap can't tell there are eyes on him behind sunglasses, and a frown behind a medical mask. He refused to shake Soap's hand, hadn't even been introduced by name like the others—Ghost, is all that was offered—and now he was scrutinizing Soap in some indecipherable way that Soap would put up to a cause of him being military, if it weren't for the fact that no one else of similar status was getting the same treatment.

It's bizarre. It couldn't even be the mohawk, for once, because he'd actually grown that out in anticipation of this high-honour, high-stakes mission.

Of course, the treatment doesn't ebb as days, weeks stretch on. But Soap learns to live with it, throws himself into the mission like he has something to prove, acquaints himself with everyone else.

Ghost becomes a background nuisance. He and his perfectly tailored suits hardly hold any weight to Soap by the time they're forced together and everything becomes a whole lot clearer.

Two months into the operation is when the team finally encounters the kind of action Soap is used to; bouts of gunfire, ducking for cover, barking out commands, incapacitating enemies with force before stealth. Begrudgingly, Soap and Ghost are left to cover one another's sixes.

Admittedly, Ghost is a damn good shot and has a rather keen eye for enemies. Soap would never utter this statement aloud, but they work terribly well as a team.

When everything goes silent for several minutes and they've received confirmation that the area's been cleared, that they're free to proceed with the mission, Ghost and Soap cautiously move from where they'd been taking cover.

Then Ghost is shot in the chest.

Another few gunshots ring out following, as Soap drags the agent back into their hiding place. Thankfully his bulletproof vest had taken the brunt of the blow, but it's obvious the wind had been knocked out of Ghost, evidenced by the sharp, wheezing gasps that try to pull air into his lungs.

Soap offers nothing more than a clipped sorry before ripping off the mask that's clearly hindering Ghost's ability to draw a proper breath.

His heart drops. Soap knows that face.

For good measure, he removes Ghost's sunglasses as well, and—fuck. Yes, Soap knows that face. Intimately.

"Simon? You bastard, what the hell?"

Simon winces. He's still breathless when he replies, "Johnny, don't—later. Fuck."

Later. Soap huffs. He only agrees because there are more pressing things, of course, but also because he's not happy to imagine the nasty bruise that was surely going to blossom across his partner's chest in the coming days.

They're not as useful the second time around, but they get what they need done. Soap operates purely on confusion and a mild frustration until later finally arrives, because he'd just like to know... anything, really.

Unfortunately, later doesn't even come when the mission is completed. Later doesn't even come until about a month following Soap's discovery. Suspense nearly kills him.

They're both home again. The operation had been of enough importance that it had, thankfully, warranted everyone at least a short break. Simon is only home because of the bruise that has yet to fade.

Things are tense, initially. Words are terse yet not unkind; they give each other space yet they go to sleep in the same bed each night. Their mutual stubbornness keeps them both from acknowledging the elephant in the room.

Until Soap grows too impatient, nearing the end of his own leave.

Over an otherwise silent dinner, Soap finally asks, "Will I ever get to know what was going on during that mission, then? Why you were being such a prick?"

Simon pauses, setting his fork down with a sigh. His shoulders slump as he sits back in his chair and drags a tired hand over his face, and Soap almost scoffs. Like the issue hasn't been bothering Soap as well.

"I didn't want you to worry about me over the course of everything. In case something happened," Simon confesses.

Soap snorts. "What, like you wouldn't be worried about me? Like you aren't worried about me, already knowing what I do for work?"

"No, Johnny, that's not what—" Simon sighs again. Soap catches the way he almost moves his hand to rub his chest in habit, before rethinking the choice in remembering the bruise. "Of course I worry about you. I just... didn't want to create any unnecessary risks. I trust you, more than anyone, but I've also been in this line of work for a while. I know my own limits."

Soap hangs his head. He... understands. He does. His own career requires the same kinds of limitations, but he's still upset that Simon felt he couldn't manage.

"I'm sorry," Simon eventually murmurs. He reaches a hand across the table and covers Soap's balled fist with a warm, callused hand. "I was wrong. You're a good soldier. Should've known that seein' you were chosen for the task force."

A blush burns at the tips of Soap's ears, and gradually he unclenches his hand. "I forgive you," he says. Soap doesn't think he could fault Simon forever, anyway. "But you'd better make it up to me."

"Of course." A smile tugs at Simon's lips, something almost mischievous. "Anything you like."

(This, of course, meant that Soap would be taking great pleasure in beating Simon's records at the gun range. And perhaps a few other things as well.)