#knocking things off tables and shelves

[ventresses]

I need a Rebels Modern AU that has Chopper as an orange cat & an absolute menace (a.k.a. typical orange cat)

[loverdude]

Head in my FUCKING HANDS oh my god

[reallapiscake12]

I thought about this literally just yesterday but but AU where someone find's a puppet of Wally a keeps it, only to find out later on that he's fucking alive so now they have this silly little puppet guy who lives with them now and also might be a little fucked up

[mostly-imagines]

Who Needs Heaven? : The Drop-In

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason meets his daughters

warnings: it’s not specific if the kids are bio or adopted — this probably doesn’t make sense on multiple fronts but i DON’T CARE

see for: the vibes

His body jolts like he’s snapping out of sleep. The first thing he processes is loud conversations echoing, the sound of young girls talking over each other. He surveys over a book in his hands that he’s never heard of, though it’s opened more than halfway through and considerably worn. He drops the book to the side, coming to a stand and scanning over the environment. 

He looks around the adorned living room, taking in details rapidly. He doesn’t recognize the house he’s in but he can tell it’s somewhere he definitely does not belong. The room is filled with books on shelves and picture frames are littered in every free spot in between. The lights are warm and the furniture is colorful with pillows and blankets strewn all over. It’s a stark contrast to the refined stoic Manor he’s so used to; there’s a distinct feeling of homeliness and warmth that seeps through the walls.

He creeps into the front entryway to the house as quietly as he can, peering up the staircase to the landing above for any signs of familiarity or danger. From his right, a girl comes darting into the space, running face first into Jason. He immediately reaches out to steady her but she shows no sign of disruption. She makes a point of holding the wrapped popsicle in her hand away, keeping it safe. She blinks up at him before taking off past him, calling out, “Sorry, dad!”

Dad?

“Anna, I swear to God—” Another girl of similar age runs past, paying him no mind.

He gapes after her, thoroughly confused. Where the hell is he?

“Daddy?” He turns around and looks down to a younger girl who looks about six at most. She stares up at him with wide eyes and freckled cheeks. “Are you okay?”  

He can’t think.

This isn’t…this can’t be real. It can’t be. This is a dream. He got knocked out. He’s hallucinating. He’s dying.

He tries to keep his breath steady as this little girl peers up at him with curious eyes. “Daddy?”

He opens his mouth, struggling to find words, let alone get them out. “Where…where’s your mom?” He can barely make out his own voice.

“She’s in your room,” she tells him, looking up the stairs. 

He treds up the stairs slowly, the chatter downstairs barely getting any quieter. The second floor seems deserted in terms of the presence of children. If, if this were real (or more likely, a dream) you’ll be here somewhere. There’s no scenario where he’d ever imagine a life in a big house with a big family without you—subconsciously or otherwise. 

Several doors line the wide hallway, most of them open. He peers in the room closest to the top of the staircase, finding a heartily decorated bedroom with two twin beds. Polaroids and movie posters litter the walls and clothes are strewn across on top of the bed covers and in a few small piles on the floor. An orange lava lamp illuminates the room from a desk, shining off the glossy cover of magazines. Above, sports medals dangle off the wall against a white board, a scribbled on game of hangman midway through. A full-length mirror covered in stickers along the edges reflects a bookshelf across the room, dozens of books stuffed on each shelf. He blinks vacantly, pulling back from the doorway and continuing on.

He continues on down the right side of the hallway, passing up a bathroom and a closet before peering into the next room. It also has two beds, but it’s filled with remnants of young children. A small table with a tea set laid out on top sits in the middle of the room with various princess dresses draped across the short chairs. Pink bed sheets and butterfly-filled curtains joined by toy cars lined against the wall and strings of pink starry lights hanging from the ceiling. Both beds have stuffed animals arranged in thoughtful piles. It takes Jason a moment to notice the tattered, worn elephant with the green polka dot tie on the bed with the Cinderella comforter. Pickles. It was his when he was a kid. It’s placed delicately at the top of the pile, like he’s the king of the crop. A grand dollhouse sticks out against one of the walls, the dolls all lying asleep in their makeshift beds. Fluffy bubblegum and fuschia rugs scatter the floor just enough that you could jump across the room without ever touching the hardwood.

He turns to the last room, a door directly across that’s just cracked open. He can hear light music coming from inside and the almost inaudible shuffle of movement. He pushes the door open cautiously and takes in the sight of a woman, back to the door, folding laundry on the bed. He doesn’t even need to see your whole figure to know that it’s you.

“Sweetheart?” He sounds like he’s out of breath. 

“Yeah?” You turn around with your same kind eyes and gentle disposition. You look older, not much older but your face is more mature. You even hold yourself a little differently. You quickly notice the way he scans you with a look of bewilderment on his face and jump into concern. “What’s wrong?” You drop the shirt that you’re folding on the bed, approaching him with soft steps. Everything feels fuzzy.

“This—this is…” His voice seems far away, this body feels further. “This isn’t real…”

“What? Jay, what are you talking about?” You’re so genuinely concerned about him it makes his heart hurt and does nothing to help clear his head.

His breathing starts to stutter and his eyes can’t pick something to focus on. Everything is telling him that this is a false sense of security, he’s not safe, you’re not safe, everything’s wrong—

“Woah, hey, hey. It’s okay.” You take his face in your hands the way you know tends to ground him. “Catch me up.”

He tries to focus on the sliding clasp of the necklace around your neck. “I…I think this is…” He doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up only to wake up in a few seconds and find that it was all pretend. Instead, he’ll settle for, “...This hasn’t happened…”

You frown at that, tilting your head. “What do you mean?”

He breathes out heavy, “I think I’m dreaming.” 

“What are you dreaming of?” You walk along this train of thought with him, though he has no idea why you would entertain it. This really must be pretend.

“The future…this is…is this the future?” He’s whispering, he’s not even sure if he’s asking you or himself or maybe even God. 

You’re quiet for a minute before you speak again. “Oh,” you say contemplatively, not nearly as alarmed as you should be. You should probably be calling him crazy, right? “This is—you told me about this. Yeah, it had something to do with that clock guy—”

He blinks a few times, “The Clock King?” That does sound…familiar. Was he—he was with Bruce wasn’t he? Or maybe Dick. Both?

You nod, “Yeah, yeah. You said you ‘time traveled’ for a minute...but that was in, like…”

He fills in the blank with the year as he remembers it and your eyes go wide. “Well, this would be a bit of a surprise then.”

“We have kids?”

You laugh, brushing his hair back gently, “Yes. Yes, we definitely do. Five girls.”

“Five?” He breathes.

“Yeah. Wasn’t the plan but…” you shrug easily, “Here we are.” 

He barely stops his next question from coming out of his mouth and replaces it. “Is this something I should be hearing?”

“What?” You tilt your head for a second before realization flashes across your face. “Oh, you don’t end up remembering any of this.” You shrug, mouth scrunched up to the side, “So why not?”

He does really want to hear about them. “Please.” He whispers faintly. 

You nod reposefully, “Okay, well…” you pause, eyes on the ceiling. “Oh, wait.” You dart over to the bookshelf against the wall and pull a book from the second shelf from the top, a large pink photo album.

You shuffle back, guiding him to the bed and sitting thigh to thigh with him and placing the album on your laps. You flip it open to the first page, which displays an array of photos of who must be his daughter.

“This is Mia—Miriam—she’s the oldest. She’s thirteen now, she’s very smart and a sort of a perfectionist. Really a perfectionist.” A couple of her baby pictures were taken in your apartment and it makes his heart absolutely melt to see you as he left you, holding a baby—his baby—with a glowing smile on your face. There’s another photo of her, kindergarten aged, dressed up as Spoiler for halloween. One shows her on a bike with shimmery handlebar streams, Jason holding her steady as she learns. He’s wearing the brightest smile he’s ever seen on his own face.

“Then there’s the twins,” you continue, flipping to the next page. You laugh when his breath hitches at that. “I know. It’s not as scary as it sounds. Well, not now that they’re older. Ryan and Anna.” You point to them as you say their names, and he recognizes them quickly as the two girls that had run past the stairs. The twins look identical, the only discernible difference found in that Ryan is grinning in every picture with a glint in her eyes and Anna nearly always has a stoic look on her face. 

“Ryan is her father’s daughter. She thinks she’s very clever and even more funny, and she is but don’t tell her that, it goes straight to her head.”

There’s a picture that has to be a couple of years old by now of the two of them dressed in what looks like brand new soccer gear. Another depicts one of them chasing Tim with a firework sparkler at dusk. He sees one of Ryan covered in dirt and tiny cuts, smiling big, helmet crooked on her head.

“Anna’s a happy kid, she is. Don’t let her attitude trick you—she just likes to keep her feelings to herself.” Anna’s pictures remind him of Damian in some ways. The very intentional lack of a smile but the happiness still seeps through anyways. One of her pictures has her cuddling with two rottweiler puppies in classic Damian style. Another one shows her a bit older, on Jason’s shoulders, surveying the land.  

You turn to the next page, “And Laine, uh, Elaine,” you smile, “She’s a bit eccentric. She lives in her own world but she’ll bring you into it with her. She likes magic and glitter and offbeat things.” Laine’s pictures leave a particular warmth in his heart. She has the absolute widest smile and the brightest eyes he’s ever seen. One photo shows her having a picnic with several stuffed animals, another has her drawing a rainbow with sidewalk chalk. One picture towards the bottom of the page grabs his eye, one of Laine happily braiding Cass’ short hair at what appears to be the Manor.

“And then the little one is Aurora—Rory,” You turn to a page full of pictures of the wide-eyed girl, who has the sweetest baby face. He can tell from the pictures alone that she has your personality. You point to a picture of her giggling with bubbles all in her hair as you explain, “She’s still small but she has a big heart and a very sensitive soul already.” Jason’s practically staring a hole in the picture of Rory as a newborn in the hospital, held delicately by Bruce.

You play with the hair at the nape of his neck as he processes quietly, letting him take his time.

“They’re happy?” He asks in a whisper.

“We’re happy.” You say affirmingly. He looks you in the eyes and you see a specific vulnerability in his that you haven’t seen in a long time. “You are a good dad, Jay.”

He’s still surprised that you can read him like a book, even though at this point you’d have been together for at least fifteen-some years. His eyes burn and he’s not sure he can keep it together. But you dig the knife in all the same, “They love you. A lot. We couldn’t live without you.”

You flip through until you find a page later in the book, plopping it back open fully. The first picture he takes note of shows him outside with picked flowers scattered in his hair wherever they’ll stay put, Laine and Rory trying to straighten them out. Another is of Anna hesitantly feeding a horse an apple, Jason crouched next to her, reassuring her. On the other page, Rory is mid-air being thrown into an absolutely massive leaf pile, glee adorning her face. He turns the page to find one of the girls with a red hoodie pulled over her head and a makeshift mask made from a red plastic plate with holes cut out for the eyes. One has Mia resting against his back, passed out, as he helps Ryan tie off a friendship bracelet on her wrist.

This isn’t—he doesn’t deserve this. This can’t be true, this is more than a happy ending and he’d never even expected you to love him this long, let alone give him the world and then some. He stares at the page for a while, trying to burn every detail into his head. 

You tear your gaze away from his face to glance at the clock on the side table, muttering, “Oh shit. Hang on.”

His eyes follow you as you stand from the bed and walk across the room to the door, cracking it open a few inches before shouting out, “Bed!”

There’s a brief delay before a clamor starts towards them, all five girls thumping up the stairs.  

You turn back to him, heedfully, “You can stay in here if you want. They’re a little…a lot.” You say tentatively. Well, if there’s anything he’s accustomed to it’s big families with bigger personalities.

Jason lingers behind you as you enter the hallway, looking like a little kid in an unfamiliar place. Whatever conversations were going on downstairs have simply moved location, no urgency present whatsoever to continue on with the progression of the night. You’re trying to verbally corral them towards their respective bedrooms, but it’s a tough job with two clear headed parents on a good day.

He stands frozen in the midst of the clutter of them as they rattle off to you and to each other. He’s scared to say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing. He doesn’t want to upset or alarm them. But because he is their father, they don’t need him to do anything strange to realize that he’s being strange.

Ryan squints up at him, “What’s wrong with you?”

The question grabs Laine’s attention and she looks to you with wide eyes, “What’s wrong with Dad?”

You shake your head, “Nothing’s—”

“He’s not having a stroke already, is he?” Anna faints, no alarm in her words. Mia thumps the back of her head for that with no returning acknowledgement given by Anna.

Ryan is looking at him like she’s sizing him up. Something you did not get a chance to tell him about Ryan is that she can smell blood in the water like a shark. So it’s not surprising to you that she picks up on Jason’s disoriented state.

“Father?” She calls out sweetly.

You sigh, “Ryan—”

“No, it’s okay. I want to ask dad specifically.” She turns him away from you with a smile. She doesn’t know what’s going on and she doesn’t need to. She’s an opportunist like that. “Could I have the last popsicle?”

Anna cuts in harshly, “You better n—”

“Hey Annie, few notes for ya,” Ryan says with widened eyes and a pointed finger, “One, you shouldn’t interrupt your father, it’s disrespectful,” Anna’s face contorts at that, and she’s about to bite back but she’s cut off quickly by Ryan’s dedication to dishing out her hypocritical sermon. “Two, you shouldn’t interrupt me because it’s potentially the single greatest sin you’ll ever—”

Alright, you gave her a chance to turn it around, she’s done now. “No, you’re all going to bed now and if you’re lucky that popsicle is still there when you get home from school tomorrow.” You tell Ryan with a pointed look. She gives you a half-hearted glare, absolutely nothing compared to her real one. 

“Mom, you said—” Mia throws her hands up as she recounts a promise that you may or may not have given her, it’s anyone’s guess. 

Then Anna starts up, “That’s not fair, I called—”

Rory pipes up from behind you. “We’re supposed to read our story first.”

You inhale sharply, turning to face her, “Oh—” you crouch down to her level, holding her waist. “How about I read it tonight, Rory?”

She frowns, “Daddy always reads it.”

Ryan taps on Jason’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “Dad, listen,” she says lowly, like she’s trying to get him in on the deal of the century. “Anna doesn’t deserve it, she’s rooting for you to stroke out—”

You frown at Rory with repentance, “I know sweetheart, but—”

Laine looks quite contemplative as she announces, “It’s unholy to break tradition.”

You scrunch up your face and swivel your head to her, “What?”

This declaration does enough to break Ryan away from her scheme. She turns to her and says flatly, “You haven’t said anything that makes sense in like two weeks.” 

Jason’s mind is going a mile a minute, trying to process the fifteen things that are going on all at once and take in the fact that these are his children. His daughters and they’re so loud and opinionated and bold and he loves it. He thinks this is the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. Hell, he’d take this over heaven a million times over.

“Mom. Mom!” Mia urges, “Can you help me?”

Your head stutters between your daughters, “I—yeah. Rory, just—”

“I can do it.” He says quietly.

“Yeah?” You look up at him, hopefully, genuinely delighted that he wants to jump into this mess without the twelve years of prep that you’re dependent on. 

“Yeah.” He nods, determined and you and Rory smile up at him. Mia all but yanks you up from the floor, pulling you to her room and you can just barely make out Ryan’s hushed murmur of, “I’m getting the popsicle…”

Rory takes Jason’s hand, drowning her own in his. She leads him to the pink bedroom with all the toys, and climbs onto the unicorn bed, shoving all but a few of the stuffed animals onto the floor. Elaine follows close behind and does the same with her own bed, though the only one she keeps is Pickles.

He stands next to the bed a bit awkwardly as she pulls a book off the table next to her, the length of the book easily taking up half her arms. It takes her looking up at him expectantly for him to get the hint, shuffling to squeeze in next to her on the small bed. 

She hands him the book and he regards it with a smile. Little Women. He pauses as he starts to open it, “Where, um…where did we leave off?”

She looks at him funny, smiling like he’s messing with her. She flips the book open a little more than halfway through and stops on chapter fifteen. She presses her pointer finger down to the start of the chapter with a thump. “Right here.”

Jason takes a steadying breath and begins reading in the same soft voice he reads to you in, and it seems to appease both girls. He’s not processing what he’s saying as he sits there with his littlest daughter tucked into his side and hanging on to every last word. He can feel her breathing in and out softly and it all feels so surreal now. 

““I don't think you'll blame me, for I only sold what was my own." As she spoke, Jo took off her bonnet, and a general outcry arose, for all her abundant hair was cut short.” Rory giggles as Laine gasps, and Jason can feel the rhythm of his heart fluttering in a new way. 

He reads to the end of the chapter and returns the book to its place on the side table, and reluctantly pulls away from Rory, standing up again. He tucks her nicely, if not inexperienced, into the sheets and kisses her forehead. She immediately holds out her toy bear, silently requesting the same treatment for him. Jason kisses the bear too, happily. He does the same for Laine, taking particular note of the way she hugs Pickles to her chest tightly. 

He starts towards the door, but is quickly put to a halt. “Wait,” Laine calls out. He turns back to her wide-eyed, terrified he did something wrong. “The lights,” she says, looking up to the ceiling at the dangling stars. Oh, right. She watches him skeptically as he innocently looks around for the switch, and Rory tilts her head at him, not sure what he’s playing at. 

“It’s right there,” Rory points with a mildly sullen look to where the mechanism dangles near the outlet. Jason quickly flicks the lights on, the soft orange-pink glow of stars illuminating against the walls. Rory’s pleased enough and adjusts to get more comfortable in her bed. 

Laine however, hisses out a, “Hey,” gesturing him towards her. He sidesteps the tea table and comes around to her side of the room, kneeling down by her bed attentively. She glances over at Rory before asking in a hushed voice, “Are you an alien?” 

That, he wasn’t expecting. “...What?” 

She shakes her head reassuringly, “It’s okay, I won’t tell. But um…I would like my dad back eventually please. If that’s okay.”  

His breath stutters and he forces out an, “O—okay.”

She holds out her pinky and it takes him a second to register what she’s asking. He wordlessly pinky promises her and she smiles big, pleased with the agreement.

He stands again, feeling light headed as he heads for the door. 

“Goodnight, Daddy,” Rory murmurs against the pillow, watching him leave.

His gaze flickers back and forth from them to make sure they like having the door closed, Rory watches him bemusedly and Laine nods at him slyly with a twinkle in her eyes. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight,” He exhales, not as loud as he meant to. He clicks the door shut softly and there’s a warmth in his chest that he could get addicted to.

He wanders down the hall towards the sound of your voice, passing Anna and Ryan climbing under their covers and murmuring something to each other, half eaten popsicle in the ladders hand. He passes the staircase, peering his head into the next room over. His eyes immediately land on you and Mia stood in front of an armoire, shuffling through clothes having an exchange of considerative words.

Mia’s room is very neat and put together, everything is placed with much more intention than in the other girls rooms. Her room has more mellow colors too, largely white with soft shades of pastels throughout. There’s a desk with organized notebooks and multiple vases of flowers, with bundles of yarn placed nicely in a basket in the corner. A tall bookshelf is filled with fifty-some books with a violin case leaning up against it. Nail polishes rest beside a jewelry box on the side table next to her bed. She also has picture frames across the walls, some containing photos of flora, others of the family, and a few of what appears to be her own sketches.

“—worried it’s too showy, you know?”

You hum, “I don’t think so, I mean, not for picture day.” 

Mia turns to Jason, shirt held up against her body. “What do you think?”

He takes a second to bounce back from the surprise of being asked the question, “I, uh…I like it.”

You smile at him as Mia faces you again, “Okay, so this with that flowy lilac skirt?”

“The lilac…yeah, that would be cute.”

She nods pleased, draping the shirt over the back of the armchair in the corner.

You and Jason head out of the room, closing the door on your way out so she can change into her pajamas. 

“Goodnight!” she calls out through the crack in the door. You and Jason return it in sync, clicking the door closed. You hold his hand as you walk past the twins' open door, giving them the same sentiment with Jason’s own following quickly after. They call it out back, louder than necessary, and you close your bedroom door behind the two of you.

You rest against the door and he leans his head back against the wall next to you, glancing over at you. “I won’t remember any of this?” He seems dejected at the idea, not happy to have been handed the world and then having it swiped from his memory immediately after.

You consider it for a second, shaking your head, “I don’t think so.”

He’s quiet for a bit, thinking. “Do you have a marker?”

“A marker?” You look around casually, “Uh, yeah.” You unclip a sharpie from the mini calendar pinned against the wall, tossing it to him. You watch curiously as he holds his forearm out in front of him, popping the lid off with his mouth.

The light in the room starts to dim dramatically until his vision is completely dark. The pull of gravity on his body feels wrong and a pang of fire shoots against the side of his head.   

“Hood.” He hears in the darkness, “Hood.” The commanding voice startles him awake once again. “Are you alright?” 

He blinks up at Batman blearily, feeling like he’s just gotten hit over the head with a chair. “What…what—”

“The Clock King. He threw some sort of device at you. It knocked you out for a few minutes. Are you alright?”

He feels dizzy. “Uh…yeah.”

He cranes his head to glance over at where the Clock King is hunched over on the ground, handcuffed, inspecting the cartridge of his device closely. “Damn it, I knew it wasn’t right. Meant to knock him into the past.” He tells Nightwing like it’s some common mistake they can bond over. 

Nightwing moues at him “I don’t care?”

Knock him into the—did he go to the future? He can’t get his thoughts in order, let alone summon memories from the future. Frankly, it doesn’t matter that much to him right now—he’s sore and wants to just fall asleep next to you. 

He sits up slowly, grimacing as the pain in his head sharpens for a moment. Batman clasps his hand on his shoulder, holding him steady. “Can you stand?”

Hood grunts and pushes himself up, anchoring his weight against the ground. “Fuck. I’m going home.”

Batman says nothing to protest, instead joining Nightwing and pulling The Clock King up from the ground. Jason stumbles away towards his bike, thankful that he’s only a couple miles away from your apartment. Jesus, the future? You’re not going to believe that shit.

He climbs onto the bike with a groan, pushing up his sleeves as he prepares to start the bike. He doesn’t notice it until he revs it, but when he looks down at his left arm, he sees scribbled on his arm in sharpie:

WE’RE HAPPY

vote: do you have a favorite daughter?

❤️ REBLOGGING = SUPPORTING ❤️

[domesticandlovingmonsters]

M!Naga x F!Reader (NSFW)

Themes/Warnings: Nsfw, breeding/oviposition, aphrodisiac themes, monster x reader, fantasy world, mute monster Words: 4.5k Notes:  Hi Hi! Here is this month's free story! A quick tangle with a Naga. Hope you enjoy!

The front wooden door creaked softly as you pushed it open. The soft chime of the bell that hung over the entrance echoed through the shop like a lullaby. It was a much needed relief from the hustle and bustle of the city outside. 

One you traversed through all morning to drop off Isiah’s order. 

“Isiah?” You called towards the back of the store. Where a set of red curtains separated the front of the shop, with many shelves and tables of goods, from the rest of the establishment. 

You heard a returning chime, similar to the bell above the door but much deeper in tone. An answer from the shop owner who was no doubt busy and was signaling to give him a second. 

You decided to wander the store while you waited. Keeping your pack of herbs and roots securely on your back so you don't accidentally knock over anything. 

You browsed the many potions and elixirs that looked both delicious and mesmerizing as they swirled in their small bottles. 

Then moved on to the table of baked goods. Some of which still had a trail of steam wafting off of them. A fresh batch of brownies that smelled absolutely wonderful caught your eye immediately. 

Your stomach gave a hard reminder that you forgot to eat breakfast this morning. 

The sound of rustling curtains brought your attention from the mouth-watering display to the store owner as he slithered out between the silk linings. 

He wore loose veil’s of purple silks and velvet today. So thin in fact that you got a very easy opportunity to gawk at his broad chest; two thick plates of silver scales that melted into the deep navy blue of his serpentine tail. His dark human complexion split apart with his too wide smile as you hurried over to the counter. His hands folded smoothly over each other in Sign before he eagerly plucked open the pack and peered inside. 

“A successful harvest?” He had asked. And you nodded, allowing him to start pulling out various leafy bundles and thick dirt covered roots. 

“It was. Spring has apparently come early this year. I managed to get some of the things that weren’t on your priority list.” You pointed out the leather pouch of flower petals and seeds. Which made the spines along Isiah’s tail quiver excitedly. 

His hands were a blur with his response. “You treat me like royalty, (y/n). You will be compensated, of course.” 

You nodded and waited by the counter as Isiah dipped back behind the curtain, disappearing from sight. 

While you were waiting, a couple wandered into the store. They browsed briefly but seemed to already know what they were buying. Taking their time to browse any new stock but immediately take a few vials from a shelf that passed. Seeming to know the place well. 

They lined up behind you, talking idly until Isiah returned. His smile was welcoming when he spotted his two new customers. And he placed down a pouch of coins in front of you before Signing a question to the couple. 

“The usual?” He asked with a mischievous glint to his sharp gaze. 

“Of course. Why change what works?” The first customer chuckled and fished out some coins to pass into Isiah’s waiting hand. Once the coins were counted, Isaiah leaned over and pulled back the red curtains for the couple to pass through. 

They continued to chat as they disappeared into the back of the shop. But their voices were silenced when the curtain fell back into place. 

“It’s good to see business wasn’t damaged by that review article.” You said, matching your teasing words with an equally joking smile. 

Isiah rolled his eyes, flashing you his fangs in a silent hiss as he feigned anger. His hands spoke his reply. 

“To be honest, that article has increased my revenue. My loyal customers now make reservations weeks in advance so they have a spot amongst all the new bloods.” 

Isiah pushed the pouch of coins closer to you across the counter. “I doubled what I usually pay you since you brought me back so much. But I do have a request, if you’re free today.” 

“A request?” You asked, picking up the swollen bag of money to throw into your pack. “If you’re sending me back out to the wilds, I have a few more stops I need to make before I can go.” 

Isiah’s hands waved away your words and then he gestured for you to follow him through the curtains. 

You trailed along behind him. Thanking him as he held the curtains aside for you before continuing down the warmly lit hallway. 

Looking at the shop from outside, a passerbyer would never imagine the sheer size of the establishment within. The front store was big enough to have its shelving and still have plenty of space for a large sum of customers. 

But the back? It felt like you were walking the corridors of a fancy hotel three times the size of the shop outfront.

You passed seating areas with plush couches and soft rugs spread out beside roaring fires. 

Other areas included pools of crystalline water, bordered by beautiful gardens and mossy carpets. There was a bar beside a tile floor with many tables, perfectly illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight. 

The scents of the meals being cooked for customers made your stomach twist with jealousy, as you watched a throuple share a large thick crusted pizza between them. 

“You’ve redecorated.” You said, suddenly coming to the realization that some of the gardens were more lush than usual. And the extra marble pillars hadn’t been there last time. Each with beautiful carvings of scaled tails curling around the thick white beams. 

Isiah smiled broadly, very proudly Signing, “Like I said, business has been good since that article.” 

He led you past the restaurant and the pools to a staff only area. Where the delicious smells of cooked meals turned sickly sweet with an undertone of bitterness that plagued your nose. 

You politely tried not to shiver as the scent of Isiah’s mixtures coiled with your senses. 

You focused on Isiah’s hands as he explained his request, “I have a new concoction I wanted you to try.” He said, pausing to remove a vial from a crystal casing by the door. “They are strong and we have tested it on hybrids and monster kinds already; but not humans. It is safe for you to digest, I made sure of it. But the strength of its effect is unknown.” 

Isiah offered you the vial and you took it very carefully. The vial was made from very thin glass and it felt like you’d crack it just by touching it. 

You popped the corked lid and sniffed it. That sweet smell that filled the room tripled inside your nose and your mouth nearly watered. 

It was a usual reaction from sniffing anything that had Isiah’s venom imbued in it. But this was like you sucked on the most delicious lolly ever, and your skin rippled with goosebumps from the warm sensation that flooded your mind. 

You shivered and quickly placed the small lid back into place on the vial. “That is definitely strong.” You said with a laugh. Still feeling like someone had tickled along your sides, filling you with a blissful tingling. “What was the effect on the monsters?” 

Isiah’s smile was wicked and playful. His hands were slow as he translated in a teasing manner. “It sent a number of them into a rut that lasted many hours. Some are still here enjoying themselves.” 

You gawked up at the naga in front of you. 

Isiah was highly adept at making potions and goods that heightened everything and anything to do with pleasure. Using his venom, which was already a strong aphrodisiac among his kind, to cook and bake and brew all manner of edible contents.

The last substance you tested for him sent you into a lovely high of desire that you shared with a number of other testers. It had been a wonderful experience that had lasted the entire night. And left you feeling bubbly days after. 

However, in all your time working with Isiah or being around his establishment, you have never heard of his goods sending creatures into ruts. 

“Isn’t that dangerous?” You asked. And Isiah shrugged. 

“Only if their partners are unprepared. But I have many happy customers because of this. I only need to ensure that it isn’t going to comatose my human patrons.” 

You knew he was joking when he used the word ‘comatose”. His glistening eyes told you as much. But if this twisted a natural need into a burning desire to a monster, you seriously doubted you’d be making your other stops anytime soon. 

“I think I deserve a little break.” You said. “How do you want me to test it? Do I just drink it? Or do you want me to find someone to share this with?” 

Isiah’s deep gaze sharpened and your entire body heated up under his heavy stare. 

His hands Signed quickly as he leaned forward, his claws trailing over your cheek as he finished his question. “I was hoping I could share this with you. If you’d have me?” 

You smiled, ignoring the growing flustered heat that crawled its way up your neck and into your cheeks as Isiah’s long fingers continued to scrape carefully down your throat. His touch barely left a red mark but his talons left your skin tingling. “Your business will be ok without you?” You asked. And Isiah made a noise in the back of his throat that would have been a hissing chuckle if his voice hadn’t been taken from him. 

“My workers know what they’re doing. And they’ve been ordered to leave me for the rest of the day if you were to accept my offer.” 

You nodded again and Isiah gestured for you to follow him once more. 

He led you out of the cooking room and up some stairs to a room hidden behind a gilded set of doors. 

You knew this as Isiah’s office and had only been here once, when you first came here with herbs to trade for coins nearly at the start of his business career. 

You remember growing incredibly flustered when you noticed his office had, not only a desk and couches set for meetings; but also a large circle bed built into the floor. It was so large fifty people could probably lay in it, tangling themselves together, with ease. 

But now, you were growing more and more excited as Isiah took your hand and tugged you towards the nest of pillows and blankets. When you stood on the lip of the bed, Isiah coiled his tail around your legs, turning to face you and plucked the vial from your hands. 

Without taking his eyes off of you, he uncorked the glass container and pressed it tenderly against your lips. 

You grinned and obediently opened your mouth. To which Isiah tilted the glass vial up and the syrupy liquid pooled onto your tongue. 

The flavor was indescribable. A mixture of sweet honey and bitter dark chocolate. You eagerly swallowed the contents and as it traveled down your throat and settled in your stomach, you felt a fiery warmth begin to spread through you. 

Pins and needles prickled the tips of your fingers and you sighed as the familiar blissful sensation rushed through you. 

It was very instantaneous, your reaction. And you heard Isiah’s spines vibrate with delight.

So caught up in the enraptured feeling, you almost missed Isiah’s hands moving in front of you. Asking a question. “How do you feel?” 

You smiled and ran your hands along Isiah’s shoulders. The texture of his silks felt so good against your palms. And the rolling muscles beneath his scales had your thighs pinching closer together. 

Isiah shadowed your touches with his own. His large hands smoothed down along your sides. Carefully scraping his talons against any bare skin he found. 

It made your body shiver pleasantly.

“I feel like you’ve just wrapped me up in a warm blanket and put a vibrator between my legs.” It was a vulgar explanation but it’s exactly what you were feeling. 

Isiah’s smile looked almost triumphant as he slid his hands up along your sides and wound his arms around your middle. Pulling you closer, you eagerly fell into his embrace as he slowly twisted so you were lying beneath him on the mattress. 

His tail nudged your thighs apart and you pushed up against him as he settled between your legs. 

Isiah didn’t need to Sign to tease you. His wide smile, showing the tips of his fangs between his lips, said it all. 

Your fists tangled themselves in his silks as your breathing grew heavier. Not from lack of breath, but definitely from the need that was clawing at your restraint. 

“Don’t give me that look. Your venom already drives me insane. This is…by the Gods…please touch me, Isiah.” 

You felt the hiss vibrate through him as Isiah purred contently with your words. His hand snaked between you and you saw stars as your eyes squeezed close with the contact. 

Even with your clothes still on, that small amount of friction sent sparks to every inch of your body. 

You gasped as Isiah’s tongue swept along your throat. You felt the pinpricks of his fangs scratch against your skin and the sensation had your lungs emptying with a moan. 

Isiah rewarded the sound with a rather rushed circular motion between your legs. His fingers pressed deliciously hard against the bundle of nerves that screamed for attention. 

You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You needed to be naked and you needed his scales against your skin. Every inch of you needed his touch or else you were going to go mad. 

Your hands felt clumsy and slow as you tore off the layers from your travels. Isiah grinned down at you, unhelpful as he continued to rub and roll his palm against your core. You moaned and tried to wriggle away from him just enough to pull your pants away, but the damn naga trapped you beneath him with a single hand wrapping around your throat. 

Your eyes widened and your whole body burst with that fiery desire as Isiah shook his head down at you. His hold was strong but careful. Allowing you to breath and twist in his grasp, but you couldn’t pull away. Not even if you wanted to. 

Then his lips moved slowly and so deliberately that you caught every sweet syllable of the word; “Slowly”, and his gaze dipped low enough to point at your pants that were unbuttoned and your belt removed. 

You nodded and tortuously slowly, started to slide your legs out of your trousers. Isiah leaned back enough to watch your thighs become bare, displaying your folds as his tail returned to settle between your now naked legs. 

The very touch of his cool scales against your core had your hips rolling desperately. He grinned and pushed harder against you, his hand still firmly around your throat while his other palm squeezed and molded your breath between his fingers. 

You whimpered. Actually whimpered! As the subtle roll of his scales gave you the friction that you wanted. It wasn’t scratching that itch by any means but it was enough to have your head rolling back and your hips feverishly grinding against him. 

You felt Isiah shift and the cool scales were replaced by something thicker. You smiled and reached for him, eagerly gliding your hands down the largest of Isiah’s two cocks. 

His eyes fluttered closed as you gripped him and immediately started to rub him. Your pussy wetted the base of his length while your hands fondled and massaged the round head. 

Pearlescent precum started to bead at the tip and you licked your lips, imagining his weight on your tongue. 

But as much as you wanted to taste him, you needed him inside you twice as much. 

Isiah’s cock was very human-like. But only in shape, with the rounded head and the soft sheath that protected the tip. The rest was all naga. To the deep, almost black color that melted into silver at the head, to the massive size that had your core clenching with just the idea of him stretching you. You could feel the soft ridges along the underside and when you tilted your hips just right, you could catch that textured side along your clit. 

Isiah’s hips began to roll in rhythm with your frenzied thrusts. 

His eyes were half closed, lost in the sensation of your hands pleasuring him brutally as you worked him to full length. 

The second cock had not revealed itself yet. Which in the back of your mind, was strange. Both cocks were used for different things. But they were always both present when a naga was getting intimate.

The smallest was commonly used for pleasure, being the most sensitive part of the naga.

The larger of the two was always used for breeding. 

It was how certain male species of naga would lay their eggs. While others produced sperm, you knew Isiah’s species instead produced soft, pliable eggs. They were only ever fertilized when the second cock would be used after the largest. 

You didn’t know however, if this was something Isiah intended to do. And the thought of him stuffing you with his cock and then breeding you, had your mind turning into putty and your moans becoming louder.

The whispering of Isiah’s spines vibrating told you he enjoyed the sound. And Isiah moved so you were crushed beneath him as he started feverishly fucking himself between your thighs. 

Your moans turned into breathless cries as the ridges along his cock rolled along your clit over and over. 

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, kissing and biting the soft flesh between his scales as he gasped and hissed above you. Taking his own pleasure while you desperately tried to keep up with his heated pace. 

“Isiah, please!” Your begging plea was matched by your hands scrambling to move him in a way that gave you space to realign yourselves. 

Your bed partner nodded, panting as his tail twisted to maneuver himself so your hips no longer touched, but the rounded tip of his cock pressed against your entrance. 

The first second of pressure had you squeezing your eyes shut. So ready was your body, that it welcomed Isiah with a warm, very wet entrance for him to slide into. 

But after the first inch, your body tensed and Isiah’s spines shivered with displeasure as he forced himself to slow and properly stretch you. 

His hands were wrapped around your hips, his claws left red dents in your skin as your hips rolled in tandem to stuff Isiah’s girth between your legs. 

He was taking too long. You could take him, you knew it. He just wasn’t at the right angle. 

You managed to regain control of your body long enough that you somehow forced Isiah onto his back. 

The naga definitely let you do it and his wide smirk only fueled your need as you mounted him. Driving your knees into the mattress on either side of his hips as you wrapped your hand around his length and angled it towards your core. 

And like the smug male he was, Isiah relaxed into the pillows and let you work yourself into a frenzy. His hands found soft places on your body to pinch and squeeze while you panted and rolled your hips down on top of him. 

Immediately, the tip slipped inside and you braced your hands on his chest, murmuring soft nothings in between moans as you kept penetrating yourself on him. 

Isiah’s eyes watched every sway of your hips as you took him. His eyes occasionally rolled closed when you sunk fast down on him or squeezed in a way that sent pleasure shooting through his body. 

But his gaze was glued to you. Locked on the beautiful display of heated need that had you taking his full length and seating yourself around him. Only when your ass sat flat against his hips did Isiah move. 

He sat up so fast you were almost knock back. But his hands wrapped around your waist and held you securely against him. 

His lips found yours in a heated kiss. One that had his fangs nicking against your lower lip and his forked tongue swept hungrily against your inner cheeks. 

And then his hands started to set a rhythm. 

Bouncing you slowly, intending to test if you could take him. But you whined and shoved his hands away. Planting your hands on his chest and instead lifting your hips away from him until only the tip of his cock was still inside, and then slamming down with a slick sound of skin slapping scale. 

The friction had you seeing stars and white flashed through your eyes as you continued to ride Isiah hard and fast enough that your thighs immediately started to burn. 

Isiah writhed beneath you. Hands locking onto your waist once more as he looked up at you with dark, hungry eyes. 

His grin was wicked. Seeming pleased to see your mouth hanging open, eyes hooded and your body lost to the sensation of being so overly stuffed your belly bulged everytime you came down. 

Then his thumb nudged against your clit and your sounds twisted, becoming louder and desperate. You clutched his wrist, unsure whether to throw his hand away or lock it against you as he rolled the pad of his finger against the fiery clutch of nerves. 

You didn’t get time to decide. 

Not long after his fingers worked you over, you felt him begin to swell inside you. His rhythm, one he smoothly kept up with you, faltered and his tail writhed behind you like a piece of string on the wind.

You heard his spines vibrate and then lock down against his scales and Isiah’s head rolled back with a silent cry as his climax rushed through him. 

His hands, locked on your waist, held you tight against his hips as he rutted up into you. You were rocked harshly above him, but unable to move an inch as he spilled inside you. 

You felt his warm seed flood you, but then something thicker began to stretch you. You gasped and squirmed, but Isiah was stronger. Keeping you firmly in place as his first egg seated itself inside you. 

His rapid pace pushed the egg deeper and deeper until you felt it snugly rest against your cervix. The foreign feeling was like a cooling agent to the fire in your stomach. 

That desire still raged but a sense of contentment spread through your mind as well. 

“Is there more?” You asked Isiah. Your voice felt like sandpaper against your throat. How long have the two of you been fucking? You felt sweat along your brow and back and your thighs burned to the point you weren’t sure if you could move them anymore. 

Isiah smirked and suddenly you were on your back again. And Isiah spread your legs to the point you gasped, and continued to pound into you. 

He couldn’t fit all the way this time. Not with the first egg inside you. But the friction and new angle had you both panting again in minutes. And you cried out as his cock swelled with his second finish, laying another egg that he kept fucking deeper and deeper until you felt it slide against the first. 

The fog started to lift from your mind. You could make out the shadows that were now cast along the floors of the office from the windows. The once blue sky outside was now pooling with oranges and pinks. 

A sunset. 

But Isiah’s rough kiss scattered the sudden shock with a new sense of need. 

Again and again, Isiah pounded into you. Soon your voice was lost to you, leaving only loud pants and squeaky moans as he penetrated your overly sensitive pussy until his eggs were sweetly embraced between your walls. 

By the fifth egg, even Isiah was exhausted. He nuzzled your neck and the spines along his tail shivered softly as he curled around you. His cock still buried as far as it could, lazily stroking himself as he reveled in his own overstimulation. 

You were a mess. Unable to think and slipped in and out of a blissful slumber while Isiah used you. 

It was only until you felt him slide out of you, leaving a great gaping emptiness, did your mind finally come back to you. 

And you reached for him as his tail slid around you. Coiling your body against the thick, cool muscle against your very warm body. 

Isiah nuzzles against your back as he moves up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he settles amongst the coils of his tail. 

He then lifts his hands enough that you can see the question he Signs. 

“Is it any good?” You don’t have to look at him to sense the teasing smirk. He damn well knows it’s good. But you indulge him regardless of how scratchy your voice sounds. 

“I blinked and suddenly it was the afternoon.” You mumbled with a laugh. You shifted to get more comfortable and your sensitive walls sent flames of heat through your body as the eggs inside you shifted as well. You touched your stomach and turned your head enough to look over at Isiah. “So, what do I do with these eggs?” 

Isiah’s hands moved lazily in front of you as he snuggled more deeply into the pillows, exhausted. “You are safe with them inside you. I’m sorry I didn’t ask permission first. The scent of your heightened lust sent me spiraling. And I also have a small kink with breeding, so I lost control. I will remove them after a quick nap.”

“You’re fine. I’ve never been…bred like this before.” You admitted. Also laying your head amongst the mountain of pillows. 

You peel open your eyes when you felt Isiah’s arms moving again. 

“Do you enjoy it?” He asked. 

“Yes.” You said. Not at all ashamed to share this with Isiah. “I enjoy all manner of being used like this. I’ve just never had a Naga male do it to me.” 

“Glad to be the first.” His hands said playfully. Which you rolled your eyes at. “But it was very sexy to see you take over. I’ll happily fill you with eggs again if you ride me like that again.” 

“It’s a deal then.” You managed to mumbled before you lost the fight against sleep and were pulled into a warm, sweet sleep, nestled against Isiah’s tail.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[swordsandholly]

Treat Me Gently (Because No One Else Will)

Ch 1: The Arrangement | next | masterlist | Ao3

Ghoap x reader | MDNI 18+ | cw: PiV sex, fingering

You yawn and stretch, back popping all the way up as you finally give it some reprieve from your hours of sitting at your low coffee table that doubles as your work station. As much as you try to stop hunching like a goblin, you always slip back into it. It’s hard when your mind gets lost in the words and the pages flying by. Good posture seems to equal bad writing, unfortunately.

Your knees pop slightly as you stand up from your cushion that doubles as a ‘chair’, decidedly clocking out for the evening. Really, you should have stopped two hours ago, but you just can’t get this one damn scene right. You sigh, heading to your dresser to change out of your “work” clothes and into a ratty, oversized shirt and pajama shorts. Your phone dings just as you go to stand in front of the fridge that you already know is practically empty.

S >> Come over?

S >> I got takeout.

You snicker. Perfunctory and presumptuous, as usual. He timed it out for when he knew you’d be done with work - even taking in your propensity to go well passed your designated office hours. He probably knew you were out of food, too. Not that you’d ever expect less from Simon Riley.

>> Give me 5

You pad across the the hallway between your flats, the dangling of your keys echoing off the old walls. The floorboards always creak, announcing your presence before you could even knock on the door. Simon’s place is bigger than yours - a one bedroom as opposed to your studio. Both have small balconies, his furnished with only two fold-out chairs. You’ve tried to convince him to get a plant or something, but he just insists it will die in a day despite that being literally impossible. The whole of the apartment is sparsely decorated - the main features being that of his well worn L-shaped couch and the fancy surround sound system Simon installed. The rest of it made up of shelves lined with physical media and books.

“Evenin’.” Simon says from his kitchen as you let yourself in. He stands at the island, broad shoulders hunched as he fiddles with something.

The lock clicks behind you when you shut the door. Some soft classical music drifts from the speakers. You don’t recognize it, but you also know that asking will result in a lecture that will undoubtedly become a pop quiz at a later date. You don’t need another Tchaikovsky incident on your hands.

“Sushi?” Your brows raise as you eye the rolls and sashimi. He really went all out. “What’s the occasion?”

Simon shrugs, plating the food up on his uniform black, square plates. Yours sits neatly on a plate of it’s own, soy sauce and all. Sometimes you wonder if he keeps an index of your take out orders or if his memory is just that good. “Shipping out soon. Figured I’d get it while I could.”

You grin and move behind him. He shivers slightly as you push your cool hands up under his shirt to run along his strong core. “Doesn’t have anything to do with the whole aphrodisiac thing?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, bird.” Simon feigns ignorance. The corner of his mouth briefly quirks up before he forces it back down.

“Sure, sure.” You retract your hands, wandering over to pick up the TV remote off the well worn coffee table. “Which movie are we on?”

“Blackwell Ghost 5.”

You settle in your usual spot on the couch, leaning on the right armrest. Simon has always liked the middle - he says it’s the best for his back. You know it’s just because he likes to manspread five miles wide. It doesn’t bother you, as you generally prefer to curl up in the corner with your feet tucked. The movie rolls and you eat in comfortable silence, humming around the fresh food. He really does spoil you, sometimes.

You eye Simon while you eat. With anybody else this would all be pretense - an unnecessary preamble to imply, somehow, that this is more than a booty call. Not with Simon. Never with Simon. This is just as important as the rest of it. You watch the way his hands practically dwarf the single-use chopsticks, the way his body melts into the cushions. Your eyes rake over the strong planes of his face littered with various scars; his nose broken one too many times, the ear that’s been slightly clipped by a bullet. His hair has grown out and more stubble sprinkles across his jaw than he usually allows.

“Wotcha lookin’ at?” Simon mumbles around some tuna.

You tilt your head, smiling. “You’re fun to watch.”

“Creep.” He nudges your foot with his knee.

“Freak.” You push back.

“’ow’s the book goin’?” Simon asks.

You groan, shoving your last piece of sushi in your mouth while you debate your answer. “S’fine. Slow. My agent is being a real pain in my ass.”

He hums, that slight smirk gracing his lips. If you knew him any less you might have missed it entirely. “Need some inspiration?”

You sputter out a laugh, placing your plate on the coffee table. “Very smooth, Riley.”

“C’mere.” Simon rumbles, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you over his lap. It’s almost uncomfortable how far you have to stretch to accommodate his hips, but its so worth it as his hands rest on your waist, grinding you down against him. You gasp, giving him entrance to press his lips to yours - tongue flicking over your lower lip.

One hand tangles in his hair, the other caressed downward, shoving his shirt up and tracing the lines of muscle across his torso. You’ve always loved bodies - loved taking in their shapes and texture, their variety - and Simon’s has so much to take in. Ridges of muscle and scars, plus that little plush layer over his middle he gets while home from deployment. You tug on his shirt, only breaking the kiss long enough to yank it off and toss it somewhere on the floor.

“Y’so fuckin’ pretty…” Simon mumbles, hands wandering from your waist, to your hips, to knead at your thighs and the curve of your ass.

You squeak as Simon lifts you, locking your legs around his waist. No matter how many times he does it, his strength still catches you off guard. He doesn’t unlock from your lips, moving back to his room purely based on muscle memory. You have to resist the urge to tease him about the time he knocked your head against the doorframe in this exact position.

Your hands drift over the curvature of his broad shoulders as he lays you back on his bed. You can’t help but be fascinated by him - all hard muscle and sinew. So different from your own soft figure. Even the pads of his fingers are rough as they push under your oversized t-shirt, kneading at the soft layer over your middle.

“This okay?” Simon mumbles in your ear. You nod vigorously as his hands move up, up, up until he’s pulling your shirt and bralette off in one swift motion.

Simon buries his face in your chest, nipping at the sensitive skin before taking a nipple in his mouth. You arch into the touch, unsure of where to put your hands and opting to let them wander.

“May I?” He murmurs, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear and sleep shorts. Again, you nod, forgetting that isn’t enough for him at this stage. “Use your words.”

“Yes! Please, Si.” You whine, rolling your hips against the too-light touch.

Simon chuckles at you, pulling your bottoms off and dropping them onto the floor somewhere. He runs his fingers between your folds, obviously reveling in the way your breath catches and your chest heaves when he finally circles your clit. His lips connect with yours, swallowing every gasp and moan as he presses a finger inside.

“Fuckin’ tight t’night, bird.” He grumbles into your mouth. “‘ave I been neglecting you?”

Quite the opposite. If anything, he’s fucked you silly this past week, but you can’t exactly argue that when he presses against your g-spot and retakes your nipple between his teeth.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan as a second finger joins the first. Your nails dig lightly into his shoulders when he pressed his thumb against your clit, moving in short circles to the rhythm of the fingers inside you. You swear he’s too dexterous to be human sometimes.

You keen, body tensing as stars dance behind your eyes. You can feel the slickness of your cunt on your thighs, the squelch of Simon’s slowed movements almost too lewd.

He only disappears long enough to shuck off his pants before he’s hovering back over you, tucked into the crook of your neck. Simon gives you a moment to come down, cooing praises in your ear. “Doin’ so good f’me. Always so good f’me.”

He sits back to lightly tap his cock against your pussy, sending jolts up your spine, obviously enjoying your reaction. He grinds his cock against you, sliding easily between your soaked folds. “Christ.”

Simon reaches into the nightstand, plucking a condom out from their designated spot. He hands it to you for inspection, as always. You don’t really understand why he still does it after the two of you have had this standing agreement for so long, but it’s not a gesture you’re going to call into question. Some of Simon’s sexual habits are simply best left as they are - they’re always for your mutual benefit, anyway. You flip it over in your fingers briefly before passing it back.

No matter how many times you take him, it’s always a stretch. He’s not the biggest you’ve had, but thick enough the sensation would teeter into pain without any preparation. That’s another thing he insists on: pain has no place in intimacy.

Your lips fall open in a pitchy moan - hands fisting the sheets on either side of you. Simon falls onto his forearms resting on either side of your head. You revel in the way he cages you in, the way his tongue laps at the sweat-slicked skin of your collar bone. You both sigh in sync as his hips finally settle against yours.

You wrap your legs tightly around his back as he begins to move. A solid rhythm slowly turning into something more desperate. Simon sits up, his weight suddenly off you. Just as you crack your eyes open his hands grab tightly onto your hips, lifting them just off the bed. The new angle ruts him against that spot inside you, pushing you over the edge into another orgasm faster than you can process it.

He eventually lets go of your hips, one hand braces by your head, the other tracing your body. Plucking at your nipples, kneading at the flesh of your thighs, pressing onto your soft stomach to emphasize the fullness with him inside you.

“Give me another.” Simon demands, thumb pressing to your clit. His eyes bore through you, watching your every minute expression. “C’mon, one more, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. A rarer pet name - one you’d probably be pissed about coming from anyone else. With Simon it melts into your bones, pooling at the base of your spine. Your eyes roll back, pathetic sounds and babbling falling from your lips as you cum again in such a short span.

“Fuck.” He grunts, voice low and breathless in your ear. “Cunt feels so fucking good when you cum f’me.”

You whine, useless under him. Your limbs are utter jelly. Even as you try to roll your hips with his, your movement is stuttered. Uncontrolled. You know he enjoys how sensitive you are, how pliant you become. It feeds his ego - the part of him that needs to do things right. Your body shudders under Simon’s as he groans, all depth and gravel, his hips stuttering and slowing as he cums.

You both stop, for a moment, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath enough for Simon to push himself up, tying off the condom and tossing it before falling into his back beside you.

A silence lapses over you - the only sound in the room is that of your breathing with a slight pitch difference between your breaths. You’ve always loved this part. The quiet afterglow. The gentle way Simon will reach over to soothe down your hair while you lazily meet his eye. No words, no expectations. Just existing with someone in your vulnerability. With someone you know is safe.

“Go piss.” Simon points to the bathroom as soon as his breath is even.

You snort, pushing yourself up on slightly shaky arms. “So demanding.”

“So considerate.” He quips back. “It’s important.”

“Fine, fine.” You throw your hands up and pad off to the bathroom. You pause, looking at yourself in the mirror. What is it about Simon’s bathroom that makes you so much more beautiful than your own? Your skin glows nicely, your hair shines even as it’s mussed up from getting fucked six ways to Sunday.

When you come back Simon’s sitting up against the headboard, scrolling through something on his phone. You crawl back into bed beside him, flopping on your back and staring at the ceiling fan as it circles, circles, circles.

“When do you have to leave?”

He sighs, dropping his phone back onto the nightstand. “End of the week.”

You nod, accepting the oncoming semi-dry spell as usual. You’ve always wondered what he does when he’s gone - if he has another you out there. Another arrangement. You can’t imagine Simon going more than a couple days without someone. That’s what brought you into this in the first place - a mutual benefit. You don’t truly feel the need to ask; it’s more curiosity than anything and you don’t want the question to go misinterpreted. Not that Simon would, necessarily, he’s always been good about taking your words at face value.

With a sigh, you roll onto your side to face him, head propped on your hand. “Know where you’re heading?”

“Mexico.” Simon grunts in that tone that signals you to stop asking questions.

You trail your fingers over his chest, through the dusting of blonde hair. “Wanna go again?”

“Fuck yes.” He rolls over. You can’t help but giggle as he knocks your knees apart and eagerly plants himself between your thighs.

banner by @the-aesthetics-shop

[captain-hawks]

ask me

barbatos x f!reader

summary: you can't stop thinking about Barbatos' forked tail, and he's well aware, so he decides to show you exactly how he likes to use it over tea one afternoon.

word count: 2.2k

content: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, masturbation, tail kink, penetration in both holes, tail sex, praise kink

“Ask me.”

The smooth, low tone of Barbatos’ voice softly nudges you away from your idle thoughts, and you glance up from where you’d been staring down into the depths of the cup of tea in your hands. 

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Ask you what?”

A ghost of a smile plays across his lips as he tilts his head to the side, casually running a gloved finger along the filigree adorning the lip of the mug. As if in answer, his tail winks into view for a moment as his demon form pushes to the surface, twin tips twirling together before disappearing back under the table. 

Your heart rate picks up at the sight, and your fingertips dig into your thigh as you stretch and rotate your ankle in an attempt to stave off the desire to bounce the nervous energy right out of your leg. 

“The servants are a chatty, nosey bunch,” he muses, steepling his hands together as his green eyes sparkle.

Not quite trusting yourself to respond otherwise, you launch another question as you evenly ask, “Are they?”

He raises his eyebrows slightly and nods, leaning in slightly as if he’s readying himself to share a secret with you. “Leave anything out in the open, and they’re certain to see it.”

It doesn’t take much guesswork to figure out what he’s getting at. You’ll never forget the horror of tiredly walking back into your room at the House of Lamentation after a long day of classes last week to discover you’d left a new toy right on top of your sheets.

Asmo had excitedly drug you to a naughty looking little shop in town when he’d found you loose-lipped and horny enough one night to blurt out that one of the things you missed most about the human world were vibrators. Needless to say, you’d worn yourself out that night as you shamelessly plunged your new purchase into your needy hole, bringing yourself over the edge thrice before you finally collapsed beneath the sheets, tossing the sticky toy aside and quickly falling asleep.

And it would have been fine, really. 

You’d have no issue earning yourself a whispered little reputation at RAD for masturbating, for fuck’s sake. You certainly weren’t living in a house of angels, after all. 

The issue was the specific vibrator that you’d chosen. The one you’d been unable to look away from after your eyes landed on it across the store, subtly clenching your thighs together the entire way home as you felt the weight of it in the shopping bag knocking against your leg with each step.

When Asmo saw the immediate glazed over look on your face the moment you walked into the store, he had gleefully explained that the Devildom’s selection of vibrators and dildos might be a little…kinkier than you were used to seeing in the human world. 

Kinky didn’t even begin to describe it.

But there was one particular thing nestled amongst the shelves of monstrous cocks of all shapes and sizes that you couldn’t look away from: a teal-coloured vibrator shaped like a forked tail. 

To your surprise, Asmo said nothing when he met you at the counter with a basket full of his own purchases—he simply offered you a mischievous grin as he nudged a small bottle of lube toward the cashier for you as well. 

It was only later, safely in the darkness of your bedroom, that you let yourself think of it. 

Think of him.

Face buried against your pillow and tears of pleasure leaking from the corners of your eyes, Barbatos’ name was a silent scream on your lips as you fucked yourself with the toy, one end of the tail stuffed into your cunt while you slid the other into your ass. 

You came so hard the first time you nearly blacked out, holes squelching wetly as you greedily chased two more orgasms while the demon butler’s face flashed in the forefront of your mind. And you’d left the evidence like a beacon right on top of your bed when you’d rushed out the door for class the next morning, not sparing a single thought for the servant that would likely be in to tidy up your room in the afternoon. 

Something brushes against your bare ankle, bringing you back to the present, but you can’t bring yourself to look at Barbatos. Not now that you’re certain he knows you purposely bought a fucking vibrator that looks like his goddamn tail. 

As if he can feel the mortification pouring off of you in waves, Barbatos lays a gentle hand on top of yours. “Ask me if I enjoy using my tail on my lovers.”

You suddenly wish you’d taken Solomon up on his invitation to join him in researching teleportation spells. Turning your hand over, Barbatos begins to rub a comforting circle with his thumb into your palm, patiently waiting for your response.

One could say it’s difficult to want for anything with seven demon brothers willing to dote on you day in and day out during your stay in the Devildom, especially when you live with them. But, in perhaps the most cliché manifestation of the age-old adage of wanting what you can’t have, you’ve found it a battle in and of itself to stop thinking about Diavolo’s elusive butler. 

At first, it was his deep voice that set you off-kilter, the tone stroking its way down your spine like liquid fire. Paired with eyes that always look like they know more than they let on and a disarmingly handsome face, the brothers and Lord Diavolo himself are hard-pressed to maintain your attention at the times when Barbatos skirts about the edges of the room, unnoticed by some but always seen by you.

While your time spent in his presence has been meager in comparison to how frequently you see your housemates, Barbatos often makes the most of it with playfully witty remarks that leave you reeling long after he leaves and kind gestures that make your heart ache, like the way he made sure the House of Lamentation was stocked with your favorite tea after you made an offhand remark about it one day. 

With a menagerie of demons eager to monopolize your attention, you were nearly ready to accept defeat in the face of an impossible conquest—because in what world was Diavolo going to let you seduce his fucking butler?

Your plans to stamp out the burning embers of your little crush went to hell in a handbasket the day you saw Barbatos flash into his demon form though, unfortunately. As if seeing his elegant horns wasn’t enough to get your heart positively racing, you’d outright choked on your soup when the real star of the show revealed itself—that goddamn fucking tail. 

Levi had patted you on the back as you gasped for air, vegetables and broth launching an assault on your throat as your wide eyes took in the sight of Barbatos threateningly pointing the forked appendage in Mammon’s face as he held out a hand for the money he owed Diavolo. 

Once you saw that teal, forked tail in all of its slithering glory, there was no going back. The only direction you could spiral was further down into a frustratingly horny purgatory, wondering whether or not it would be uncouth to proposition the demon butler to fuck you with his tail. 

And now, it’s the steady reassurance in Barbatos’ eyes as he squeezes your hand that allows you to let the words tumble from your mouth before you can think better of it, “Do you enjoy using your tail on your lovers, Barbatos?”

What can only be described as a devilish smile curls at the corners of Barbatos’ mouth, and he briefly darts his tongue out between his lips before coyly responding, “In many ways. Was there a specific one you had in mind?”

Your mouth goes dry, confidence faltering at the insinuation in his tone. “I…” you trail off, unable to muster up the filthy thoughts about the male sitting in front of you that have long-since taken up residence in your head.

A contemplative noise escapes his lips as he shifts into his demon form, slowly pushing both of your teacups aside as his tail slithers up onto the table. Your breath hitches in your throat as he lazily flicks the forked edges before pressing it closer to you, the surface of it cool and smooth as it ghosts along the curve of your jaw.

“I’ve been told the secretion has a…pleasant flavor,” he muses, eyes glittering with delight when you unconsciously part your lips at the feeling of his tail now prodding against them. 

Sweet, viscous liquid that vaguely reminds you of honey, though more slick than sticky, hits your tastebuds as one forked tip presses against your tongue. 

And fuck does it taste good. 

You let your jaw relax, and Barbatos readily accepts the invitation, slipping his tail further into your mouth as the other tip caresses your throat. A fresh spurt of the sweet nectar pours onto your tongue, and you greedily gulp it down, moaning softly as you begin to suck on his tail. A soft growl of encouragement rumbles in Barbatos’ chest, plates and mugs clinking in protest when he tightly fists a hand in the ornate tablecloth. 

“And there’s also this…” he adds, tail sliding out of your mouth and trailing down your chest, effortlessly flicking open the buttons of your RAD uniform. 

Knowing full well Lord Diavolo could return to the Demon Lord’s Castle at any time, it’s a battle in and of itself not to cry out at the feeling of Barbatos squeezing your breasts with his tail. But once he uses the twin tips to tease both of your peaked nipples at the same time, the shameless whine you let out can’t be helped, not in any realm. 

Meeting his gaze, you try to steady your breathing as you ask, “Where else?”

Barbatos licks his lips. “Would you still like me to…show you?”

You nod, and his tail disappears under the table, wrapping around one of your ankles and tugging your crossed legs apart. One forked tip pushes your skirt up and out of the way and then tugs aside your underwear, the other spreading your thighs so wide that you slip down in your chair slightly.

And the moment that Barbatos slides his dripping tail through your equally slick folds, your body trembles with a jolt of searing hot pleasure, and a moan so wanton and desperate tumbles from your lips that you know you’ll never be satisfied again without this—

The feeling of one end of his tail firmly massaging your swollen, throbbing clit, the other teasing at your entrance.

The desire written plainly across his face as both tips curl around one another before he begins to ease them into your cunt.

The way he leans across the table and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, fangs scraping against your skin as you roll your hips to meet his thrusts.

The damp material of the chair beneath you, sodden with the combined arousal leaking from his tail and your wet heat.

The softly uttered, “Beautiful,” as you whimper his name. 

The feral, possessive snarl of frustration that escapes him at the sound of the front door opening downstairs.

…the way Barbatos continues to fuck you with his tail even as Diavolo unknowingly strolls into the room with a grin on his face, seemingly none the wiser to the activities hidden beneath the long tablecloth. But after he deftly snatches the last biscuit off of one of the plates in front of you, he offers you a sly wink before turning on his heel and leaving, none too discreetly closing the doors to the sitting room behind him.

You’re nearly on the verge of making a comment about what just happened, but all rational thoughts leave your head when Barbatos quietly rasps, “This is my favorite place to use it, though,” just as a forked tip nudges at the tight ring of muscle nestled between your asscheeks.

He pauses, just for a breath, and you whimper, “Please.”

Appendage covered with both of your fluids, Barbatos begins to stretch your asshole open. If you weren’t so busy moaning and whining unintelligible sounds, begging him to go deeper, you’d laugh at the thought of the silly vibrator now tucked away in your room. Because while the toy had certainly felt good, you know now that nothing can compare to the exquisite pleasure of Barbatos using his real, dexterous tail to fuck both of your holes at the same time. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, reaching across the table once more to stroke your face, thumb sliding across your cheek. “So wet for me. You take me so well.”

You shudder at the praise, hardly able to contain yourself as a wave of pleasure like you’ve never felt before rises up inside of you. And when Barbatos curves his tail so that the part not ruthlessly plunging into your fucked out holes rubs against your sensitive bundle of nerves, you tug on the tablecloth so hard the teacups go crashing to the floor, your entire body shaking with the force of your orgasm. 

Barbatos lets you catch your breath a moment before he pulls his tail out of you, and you can’t help but whine at the emptiness that follows. 

Smirking, he brings the forked edge coated in your cum to his lips and licks it clean before purring, “I have some other things I can show you, if you’d like.”

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

[yiiyiiwrites]

🗡️ | Relics and Ruins | 1

[Series masterlist] [acotar masterlist] Summary: you come from a long line of healers in the dawn court, but it seemed to have skipped you completely. So you find that your mind is more equipped to read magical objects, fixing broken or cursed relics. What you don’t expect is an Illyrian warrior seeking your expertise on his favourite broken dagger. 1455words

The blade on the table rattled to a stop, whatever secrets it whispered, you did not understand the language it spoke.

A shadow lurked over the table, you glanced to the night courts high lord, Rhys opposite you, a smirk pulling his lips as his eyes flicked from you and his friend behind you.

“Are you going to stand over me whilst I work?” You raised a brow, neck aching as you twisted in your seat and looked to the Shadowsinger.

Rhys muttered an apology on behalf of his friend. Azriel stepped back from your desk, allowing the light to creep back in. You swatted one of the stray shadows still lingering, it rolled over your finger like the curl of smoke.

The small studio space you rented, barely allowed enough room for you to navigate. Tables and shelves filled with an assortment of objects still screaming at you to fix. You were sentimental when it came to the place, the first and only part of the court that was yours. Knew the layout like the back of your hand, large windows that bathed the area in light that no dark corner could be found. And you hated the dark.

You bit your lip trying to suppress the smile at the awkward Illyrian’s taking up the space. Their Highlord’s wings vanished before he entered the confined space, the other two however had tucked their wings in tightly and tried not to move too much within the organised mess.

The longhaired one, Cassian had given you some valuable information on a shield you’d given up on decades ago. You couldn’t help but mirror his smile whenever he offered you one, brows scrunching as he translated the text engraved on the metal.

The other winged male did not speak to you, he hung back clouded by shadows. Every now and then, little black wisps brushed against the tip of your short hair, a breeze ghosting over your shoulders.

But when he did finally speak, you found yourself wanting to look at him. The knot in your stomach twisting, his smooth voice called to you and it felt familiar, comforting. You wanted to hear it again.

“How long do you think it will take to mend?” Azriel leant on the desk, gloved hands supporting him as he gazed down at you. His attention solely on you, even up close he was breathtaking.

You blinked, hands fumbling over the desk as you knocked a pile of ancient tomes over. Dust settling in the air, the action kept going on like dominoes. A cannon ball hitting the mannequin of ancient armour into the hoards of Elven bows stacked up high.

Cassian tried to catch the next thing falling, but his wings flared ever so slightly as he tried to keep his balance. Forgetting about the tight space, his wings swiped the entire contents as well as the shelf off the wall. Metal clanged to the floor and he froze.

“Do not touch that,” you snapped, running to Cassian, your fast movement making him step back. “Unless you want it to haunt your dreams for the next hundred years.” You nudged the fallen contents with your boot, keeping them all together.

“We would not want that,” Rhys paused, glancing around the studio and the mess scattering what was left of the floor. “Perhaps we should allow you the time to do your work.” He flicked his wrist, the Elven bows stacking on top of one another.

You couldn’t help but gasp, it would have taken you hours to sort out the mess, but Rhys had put most of it back in its original place. Except the items you warned them not to touch, even that being extended to another persons magic.

The three men walked through the studio, you following closely behind them. Your hands hovering behind their wings as if waiting for them to knock into more things as they went.

Cassian doesn’t meet your eyes as you stand in the doorway, the three of them tense as if waiting for one of them to speak. You turn to Rhys expecting him to say something.

“We have business with your Highlord, so we will be around if you need anything,” Azriel said, bowing his head slightly. His shadows twirled in frenzy, black wisps tangling in your hair one more time.

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the pesky wisps.

Azriel cleared his throat, shadows returning to curl round his ear as if to tell him a secret. “How long do you think it’ll take to mend the truth-teller?”

“It will take me a while, I need to familiarise with the energy surrounding the blade.” You could already hear truth-teller beckoning you. A broken echo, the voice not quite pronouncing your name properly. But it called.

They bid you goodbye and you returned to the room of relics. The noise always a welcome distraction than listening to your own thoughts.

*🦇*

Azriel’s shadows had not stopped mumbling of the girl of sunlight. He kept swatting them away, the text he was trying to read in front him blurring at their constant interrupting.

“You think she knows?” Rhys asked, his hands in his pockets as he watched the sun bathe the sky in dusky pinks and orange hues.

The thought crossed Azriel’s mind, part of him thinking there was a moment when their eyes met, but the way she retreated from his shadows made him think otherwise.

“Nah, there’s no way. Too much energy in that room. Don’t know how she can surround herself with all those relics,” Cassian said, his fingers rubbing his temple.

Relics kept their energy and magical properties forever, outliving the ones that created them. They might not be able to wielded again, but if one was worthy enough to channel that power the object would call for whoever it could hear. Most times it was a distant mumble, only a trained ear or shadow could hear it.

“Now you know how we feel brother, when we spend too much time with you.”

Cassian pulled up the chair opposite Azriel, smirking as he got himself comfortable. “Maybe I should help her, you know familiarise that energy surrounding truth-teller. I do know some riveting tales…”

“The only thing snapping will be your neck if you meddle,” Azriel spat, he slammed his book shut as if closing anymore discussion on the mender in the dawn court.

The anger spread like wildfire in his chest, ever since the bond snapped he’d been overwhelmed with emotions. His shadows were equally as messy, not sure whether to follow him or stick behind with her. A few stray wisps fell back, hiding between the relics in her studio and keeping a safe distance.

Azriel couldn’t get her off his mind, he wondered if she’d ever been beyond her home or stepped into the darkness. He knew that his life wasn’t for everyone and didn’t want to subject someone full of so much light, to something so cold.

“Did you sense it whilst we were there?”

Cassian’s question dragged Azriel back to why they were truly there, the matter of his mate paused until they got what they were looking for. But Azriel didn’t realise that the one thing he’d be looking for was her.

“No, nothing.” Rhys turned as the doors opened, the dawn courts high lord entering.

“Well why didn’t you ask my favourite mender?” Thesan asked, but he waved his hand as if answering his own question. “She did let you in, did she not?”

“I fear that our missing relic is still under the mountain, her collection did not give us any clues,” Rhysand said glancing to Thesan, the warmth in his eyes dulled at the mention of the mountain. He too had been trapped beneath it, the last resort of returning was changing to a definite return.

“Ah,” Thesan paused, a strained smile twitched his lips. “ You see the mender is a relic herself. She too survived under the mountain and is the reason we have so much knowledge on the subject.”

Azriel felt the tight pull in his chest, so she had known darkness. He rubbed his chest, wondering if she felt the same jolt there too. His shadows being a reminder of her time there, maybe that’s why she preferred the light glaring down upon her. No curtains or furniture blocking the large windows that dominated the small studio she worked in.

“Would she be able to show us the way without actually going there?” Cassian asked. Azriel thankful that he had spoken up first. His thoughts were tangled, but they all led to her and her safety.

“You would have to ask her.”

[Part two]

I wrote this on my phone and not edited so might be some errors

[marwhoa]

request: omgggg <33 did not know u did ohshe!!! i love the way u did mori u did him justice!!! is it possible to for you to write mori x tiny reader please? i just find the height difference very cute and comical. thank u! 💕

🝮 mori-senpai headcanons

morinozuka takashi x short!reader

author’s note: I like Mori :)) my favorite is Hikaru, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t write for anyone else uwu 💕

word count: 1.2k

ఌ As he does with Honey, Mori can’t help but hold you. For one, he doesn’t want to accidentally knock into you, since you’re a bit out of his peripheral vision, and he has a habit of zoning out if there’s no sense of danger! If you hate being picked up, he’ll respect that, but do note that he is crying a river mentally.

ఌ secretly finds it irresistibly adorable when you’re too short to reach things and need his help. One of his fondest memories is when he just happened to be in the right place at the right time in the library!

During study time, Mori wandered off to the library to search for books on the women’s court in the Heian Period. While he was searching, he turned down one of the aisles to catch you grumbling under your breath about how “ all the books I need just had to be placed right out of my reach, what a joke! “

He didn’t intervene! Just watched fondly as you pulled a step stool over to solve the problem yourself (you’re independent! surely you have a few tricks up your sleeve to navigate a taller world?).

Thing is, the step stool wasn’t tall enough, so you resorted to standing on your tippy toes and trying to nudge the book into a free-fall. That is when Mori intervenes, as he watched the book shelf teeter under your inadvertently-tugging hand.

“ Y/N! “

It all happened so quick. You swore the world seemed to slow as the stool beneath you flipped and the books began cascading down the shelves towards you. With your hands crossed over your head, you squeezed your eyes shut and braced for the impact. While your butt hit the floor hard, you were surprised to find your back never met the same fate.

Instead, there was a light pressure and warmth radiating from the small of your back.

Opening your eyes hesitantly, you tuned in to the pained grunt and watched as Mori was hovering over you. The weight of the bookshelf was heavy on his back, but nothing could convince him to step aside and let you take the brunt of this instead.

“ Oh god, Mori?! You—“

You were at a complete loss of words. Thankfully others in the library quickly noticed and came to help lift the bookshelf. Before you were both free, you didn’t miss the out-of-breath whisper by your ear.

“ At least you’re safe.. ”

ఌ Stays close to you in crowded situations. He will use his height and strength to his advantage to ensure you have a comfortable amount of wiggle room regardless of where you’re at—the cafeteria during high traction times, the commoners’ train while it’s rush hour, malls experiencing season-high discounts, etc. Regardless of the setting, you can count on him.

ఌ Mori can tend to have cuteness aggression, and having a partner shorter than he is definitely contributes to that. He refuses to acknowledge he ever did this, but you can remember plain as day a particular study session in the third years’ science class after school.

As you sat across the table from Mori, yammering on and on about the current problem stumping you both, there was an odd creeping feeling that he wasn’t paying attention. Lo, and behold, as you rose your head to fact-check, you found Mori’s eyes just staring at you, clear as day that not a thought was processing behind those eyes.

Just before you could reprimand him, Mori shot up in his seat and rounded the table to stop at your side.

“ Whuh—“

Dumbly, you mumbled out a noise of confusion as his hands planted firmly on your cheeks and kneaded the flesh before then pushing until your face was scrunched up and making duck lips. You tried to swat him away but found your hand freezing in midair as an unfamiliar expression washed across his features.

Laughter. Mori had actually burst into laughter, a pure and genuine laugh that echoed in the room like the sun’s rays radiating in summer. You decided to let it slide for now.

ఌ Unlike the sweeter Honey, you tended to be more of a spitfire. A feisty fire that definitely fought back, and sometimes that worried Mori. While you could hold your own verbally with a silver tongue, some people can be a bit more… physically combative, as seen in the case with a particular vacation that landed Haruhi in danger with some particularly confrontative boys. While Mori wasn’t too much a fan of how frequently you could end up in danger, he was amused by how easily most of your enemies would tuck tail and run if he so much as glared them down from behind you.

And it was quite rewarding whenever you’d turn to look at him with a big triumphant grin, shamelessly declaring “ see ? you have nothing to worry about—they’re intimidated by me! “

ఌ Even though Mori yearns to dance with you whenever the host club holds parties, because of the size difference, he usually chickens out of even offering to dance with you. He’d hate to ruin an experience like that with you just because the difference in height is so comically large.

What he didn’t account for is your free spirited personality not caring one wink of how others would perceive you two dancing—you also know that he may be tall, but it’s not like your 3 feet tall compared to his 6’4 ass. At one of the most recent soirées, you almost-quite-literally swept him off his feet when you asked for a dance.

As you both took to the floor and swayed in each other’s arms, slowly the other partygoers began enraptured by the sight. Fortunately for you two, you had both melted so far into each other’s gaze and warmth that the others watching you had completely gone unnoticed.

Mori cursed himself for being so dumb and taking so long to ask a dance with you.

He also ended up purchasing his first set of photos from Kyoya’s personal collection. They had captured you both in such a perfect light and detail that he considered opening a museum in your honor. All just to show the world what a masterpiece you both made together.

He decided against it.

The photos instead sit upon the walls of his room, congregated on the exact spot he faces every night before bed.

ఌ Once y’all are together, you tend to rely on Mori a lot more, as per the rules of “ Girlfriend Incompetence ” or otherwise known as princess brain. Things you could very well do on your own are instead passed to him as something “ only he can do ! you couldn’t possibly do it yourself ?? “

A book on the higher shelf? Well, you could easily get a step stool, but why do that when you could bat your pretty li’l eyes at Mori-senpai and he would bring down the moon at your request?

A puddle obstructs your path? D’aw, well, just go around it! Or, you could turn to Mori with a pouty lip and a sweet little “ please? “ He’d sweep you up in an instant—an easy task with how much smaller you are—and easily traverse over the puddle. You would find yourself mentally lamenting just how much longer his legs are, but you’ll get over it since it grants you the privilege of being in his embrace.

[trains-boy]

Au where Akutagawa buys a new apartment that's rumored to be haunted and decorates it all goth and pretty like only to get pissed off at the ghost who keeps knocking things off tables and shelves

Featuring Atsushi desperately trying to get Akutagawa's attention cause he's been alone in the gloomy apartment for years and he can't stand it. Mainly because even in death he can't escape the orphanages cruel punishments such as isolation. Also he just hates some of the decorations Akutagawa placed.

Akutagawa, getting ready for bed: I'm so glad that the ghost hasn't bothered me toda- *distant sound of glass falling off a table* God damn it.

[sirenmoth]

Bookworm

Based of this post i made. GN Reader

If he was sure about one thing, it was your avid love and passion for reading, he could leave you with a book alone while a worked in his office or went to run errands and you wouldn't have moved at all, expect to change the position you were reading in. You were absorbed into your own private worlds, books of different genres layed scattered around the house, stacked up agaisnt each other on any surface you could find to place one, on overcrowed shelves and side tables, even tucked up against the wall on the floor.

It was cute to see you nosedeep in whatever book you were reading but it did concern him to some extent, he managed to sneak up on you a few times, having to physically drag you to eat or to rest your eyes.

Well, by sneaking, more like louding stomping around the house, purposley making as much noise as possible, still you sat and read undisturbed by his actions.

Nothing seemed to work, the amount of books now meant he's accidentally walked into a stack on the floor or nearly had a a few fall off the shelves they cluttered, "Are you planning on moving this anytime soon?" He asked, looking in you direction.

You sat on the sofa, a blanket over your legs and a book you were somehow already nearing half way through even though it was bought a week ago, laid open on your lap, not looking up from the words you were focusing on, you nodded absent mindlessly, eyes never leaving the paper back in front of you, turing the page to start the next chapter and curling up more under the blanket.

He sighed, knowing he wouldn't get an answer from you in a while, he couldn't complain about the placements, the only spare room in the house was turned into his at home office, his own space he can retreat to if needed, so getting mad that you turned the living room into your own space was wrong,

It was only fair you got your own space, an area where you could read and store your books without worry, and so he could easy know where you were.

After reaching the midway point of the novel, bookmarking it with the bookmark he bought you as a gift after you looked at him in disgust when he told you to dog-ear the page like he does, moving the blanket from your legs and stretched. Looking around, the lack of books around caught you off guard, it instantly became clear how clean and decluttered everything looked, like you could finally breathe after drowning for so long.

"Where'd all my books go?" you mutter to yourself, getting up from where you've been sitting for who knows how long, a noise from the sunroom caught your attention, it was at the far back of the house and neither you nor he used it for much other than storage.

Calling out to him, knocking on the door to the room before opening it, he stops you " Darling! Wait there, i wanna show you something." he called from inside, sounding a little out of breath, you sighed hoping it wasn't another one of his retreat rooms, "It's not done yet." a loud noise followed by the sound of him grunting, like he was moving something around.

Puzzled, you waited outisde the room, unsure of what was happening that was so important, "Have you seen my books?" you asked him from the other side of the door, crossing your arms over your chest, "I can't find them anywhere." you add. Finally the door opens just enough for him to squeeze out and to keep whatever was inside hidden, "What was that?" you question him again, even more confused than before.

He smiled at you, taking you hand in his, "I have seen you books, so don't be mad at me." he explained, "I found somewhere for you to put them, i know you have a habit of going into that pretty head of yours when reading." That explanation did nothing to help your curiosity. He motioned to you stand in front of the sunroom door, with him behind you.

"I hope you like it, took me hours." He kissed the back of your head, reaching out from behind you to open the door.

The sight in front of you left you speechless, a whole mini library was there, right in fron of your eyes. Taking a few steps into the now renovated room, taking in the sight, a double loveseat big enough to hold two people, was pushed up agaisnt the far right wall, complete with pillows and a throw blanket over the back of it. A singular arm chair in the left corner sat with its own pillow, propped neatly in the center of the chair. Bookshelevs, both refurbished and handmade lined every available wall, reaching upwards towards the ceiling and skylights, creating a warm and cozy feeling. A ladder, which you noticed was on a whell system, sat attache to the larger bookshelf in the room. A decent sized coffee table was placed in front of the double love set, already with a few book ready to be read.

A fair of arms snake their way around your waist, pulling you out of you dazed stated. "Do you like it? Thought you could have your own space to retreat and relax." he said, watching as your eyes looked from one thing to another, "I tried my best to order them how you like it, hopefully it's ok." sheepishly he smiled, his eyes never leaving your awestruck expression.

Turning to him with the biggest smile on your face he's ever seen, you hug him tightly, squeezing him as you buried you face in the crook of his neck, giving him chase butterfly kisses on his neck and jaw, each a silent thank you for his gift and effort. "I love it, thank you so much." you reply, letting go so you explore your new personal space, running you fingers over the polished sheleves, scaaning the small decor pieces and details he added, little trinkets he brought back for you from his travles.

He sat down on the sofa, watching in adoration as you wondered around your new private world, reading the titles off the spines of the books on the shelves, happy with himself and his work, ignoring the gnawing feeling that he'll have to possibly make a new section soon when you inevitably run out of space. You grabbed a book of one of the shelves and made your way over to him, settling down between his legs, getting comfortable with his back slightly agaisnt the back of the sofa and the armrest, one leg streched out on the loveseat with you perched in betweem his legs.

His arms were back around your waist the second you stopped moving, you grabbed the blanket and threw it over both of your legs, arranging so it covered you both completly, your back against his chest and his arms around your waist, you set the novel you choose down on your lap and opened it.

A sigh can be heard behind you, smiling softly to yourself, he's not moving anytime soon and you know he just figured that out. A few minutes after you opened the book, you feel another set of eyes peering over your shoulder at the pages in front of you, "Are you reading over my shoulder?" you playfully ask, earning a grunt in response. Giggling as you readjust the book, so he could totaly not read over your shoulder.

Whatever he had planned today wasn't going to happen and can wait, this is more important.

-- Simon "Ghost" Riley, Captian John Price, Nikolai, John “Soap” Mactavish, Kyle “Gaz Garrick”, Logan Howlett and any f/o you can think of

[storm-angel989]

Omg do you know the Valentino x reader period pains thing can you do that but with vox's teenage daughter like how would he react straight panic. Most men in the 50's didn't know anything really about period cramps or periods in general. So he probably not know much besides what Vel talks about. I can imagine him doing the wtf which one do I get her in the store thing so he buys everything lol.

Another super fun request! Enjoy!

Vox stared at the shelves in a mixture of embarrassment and confusion. His gaze fell from the shelves to the list, and back again. So many colors, and why was one woman playing volleyball? He cursed himself for not simply putting Velvette’s requests on the list and pushing it off. How was he supposed to know this could happen in the middle of the night?

“Dad? Dad, I need help. I think I’m dying.” 

Vox had heard his daughter's voice from across his bedroom. He instantly sat up and turned on the bedside light, swung his legs over the side of the bed and hurried to her. 

“What’s the matter baby?” He asked frantically. 

“My belly hurts, and I’m bleeding,” she sobbed. “Daddy, what’s wrong with me?”

He felt a cold chill and sheer panic settle through him as he noticed the bright red stains on her pajama pants. No, she couldn’t be. She couldn’t have her period already, right? She was only thirteen. God, he was so not ready for this. 

“You’re not dying babydoll, come on. We need to go see your Aunt Velvette,” he said as calmly as he could. “Come on now, follow me.” He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her down the hallway. He pounded on Velvette’s door. “Vel? Vel get up! We need you!”

He heard frantic footsteps and the door swung open.

“Vox you better have a damn good reason to-”  Velvette cut herself off mid sentence at the sight of reader. “Oh. Yep, that’s a good reason. Come in honey, go to my bathroom. I need to talk to your dad for a moment. You’re okay, I promise.” 

Vox watched as his daughter walked across the room and vanished behind closed doors. He turned to Velvette, who was scribbling something down on a pad of paper. 

“Vel, you still good to handle this?” He asked cautiously. “I just-”

“Vox, it's the middle of the night. I told you ages ago to have housekeeping order the supplies she needs and you put it off. Now you need to go to the store yourself while I convince sweet reader she isn’t about to kick the bucket,” Velvette grumbled as she ripped the paper off the pad and handed it to Vox. “Everything you need is on that list. You’re going to have to go out and buy it right now.”

Vox felt himself flush with embarrassment. This was a female issue- it shouldn’t involve him. 

Velvette gave him a look. “If you had listened to me in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this situation would we? Now shoo.” 

Now here he stood, with a list of what he firmly believed were made up words. What exactly was a “tampon” anyway? Or a “thin panty liner”?

“Excuse me sir, do you need any help?” A cheerful voice came from behind him.

Vox whirled around. He could feel his face turn even more red as he thrust the list towards the unsuspecting sales girl.

“I..I need these. I mean, I don’t need them. My daughter needs them. I just…”

The sales girl seemed unphased. “How old is your daughter?”

“Thirteen.”

“Okay! She needs this, and this, and this…” she loaded the items into his cart. “Easy enough! Extra chocolate too, might be a nice thing to do.”

Vox could only nod and add an extra bar of chocolate to the cart. To his relief, she packaged everything up in discrete brown paper bags. As he swiped his card, he wondered why such a necessary product was priced so ridiculously high. 

When he got back to the apartment, he knocked on Velvette’s door. She stuck her head out and took the bags. 

“I woke up Val and he’s making hot cocoa. We’ll join you two in a few minutes. Now shoo.” She slammed the door in his face. 

Vox resigned himself to the kitchen. He took a seat at the table and buried his attention in his phone as Valentino stood at the stove in his pajamas, stirring the hot chocolate pot. 

“How are you, amicito?” He asked. “Big day for our little princessa.”

Vox groaned. “Can we not talk about it?”

“I think you need to get with the times. Your little girl needs you,” Valentino replied easily. “So get over yourself.”

Vox raised an eyebrow and looked over to him. “You’re not freaked out about this?”

Valentino shrugged. “Why should I be? Our little girl is simply growing up. If you treat her like the plague she will feel shame- and that’s the last thing we want, right?”

Vox considered. He hadn’t thought about it that way, how his reaction to what was admittedly a natural event, might affect her. 

“Do you think she knows I’m…”

Valentino cut him off. “I think you did just the right thing, bringing her to Vel.”

“Here she is!” Velvette’s voice called through the kitchen. “Officially a young lady!”

Reader flushed and looked down. “Not…it’s not that big a deal I guess.”

“Oh, baby princessa, it is.” Valentino said as he ladeled the hot chocolate into a mug and added whipped cream. “The heating pad is all set on the couch. Remote is yours.” 

“Thanks Uncle Val,” she mumbled as she made her way out to the living room. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Vox asked with concern. 

Both Valentino and Velvette looked at him with a mix of annoyance and shock. From the living room, the television blared top volume. All three recognized the theme to her favorite show. 

“She hurts, she’s bleeding for the first time and she’s embarrassed about it,” Velvette answered. “Even though I told her there was nothing to be ashamed of. It’s normal.”

“So, what do I do?” Vox asked. “How do I help her?”

“You love her, and give her chocolate and give her a bit of grace if she’s crabby. Her hormones are all over the place,” Velvette replied. “And for god sake, get over yourself.”

Vox winced. He didn’t want to think about his daughter having hormones, or growing up. He knew it was a fact of life, but what he wouldn’t give to be unaware of it. Valentino handed him a cup of cocoa and he took a sip. He watched as Velvette flopped down on the couch next to his daughter. 

“She’s going to grow up, Vox. You can’t stop it,” Valentino warned. 

“I know I can’t,” Vox replied tiredly. “But I’m not ready to lose my little girl.”

Valentino gave him an irritated look. “What are you talking about? She’s still your little girl- she always will be. And right now she needs her family to support her,” he replied as he turned and left the kitchen. 

Vox sighed as he watched Val collapse on the other side of the couch. He could barely make out their chatter. After a moment, he stood up and joined them and took the seat next to reader. Concern flooded his face as he looked at his daughter. She looked pale, paler than usual. 

“How are you feeling, babygirl?” He asked. He reached over and brushed the hair out of her eyes, the palm of his hand lingering on her forehead for a moment. Was it him, or did she feel warm?

“I’m okay, Daddy, just tired,” she replied quietly. “My tummy hurts. Can I go to bed?”

“Of course you can, princess,” he replied as he pulled his hand away. “I’ll be in to check on you in a bit.” 

She climbed off the couch and wrapped him in a hug. “Night night, Daddy.”

“Goodnight baby.” He replied. 

She did the same with Valentino and Velvette before trudging back to her room. He heard the door close and looked to Velvette. 

“She felt warm, is that normal?”

Velvette rolled her eyes. “You know what? Figure it out on your own. I’m going to bed.”

“Not a bad idea to do some research, amicito,” Valentino added as he stood up. “If nothing more than to help our little princessa.” 

Vox watched them both retreat back to their rooms before shutting off the lights and returning to his own bed. He pulled out his phone and hesitated for just a moment. Breaking free of the ideas that he had been so held to in life was uncomfortable to say the least. But at the same time, he felt he owed it to his little girl to at least try to understand what she was going through. And he was willing to do whatever was necessary to make sure he was the best dad he could be.

Even if it meant figuring out exactly how to handle a period. 

[iamthemain-character]

You Drew Stars Around My Scars

four/tobias eaton x reader

she/her pronouns

TW: mentions of scars from abuse, heavy making out

Y/n’s head was swirling with thoughts of the new recruits as she headed down to to the training area. The day had been long, trying to help all the new kids as they desperately clawed to qualify. Some did well, instantly brandishing themselves as worthy Dauntless. Others, however, struggled.

And while the Dauntless part of Y/n knew that this was just the way things were done, there was still a part of her, a part that had grown up in Amity, that worried about those poor kids. Y/n’s heart twisted every time one of them failed, knowing that they slowly crept closer and closer to being cast out. Despite only being a couple years older, Y/n saw them as kids, still needing someone to be there for them.

Letting out a large sigh, Y/n was about to walk through the door when she looked down at her hands, realizing that she didn’t have her gloves on. Wracking her brain, Y/n remembered that she had lent them to Four. It was getting late at night, so he was probably either finishing up some personal tasks or going to bed. But Y/n didn’t really feel like tearing up her knuckles, and Four and Y/n were close enough friends that it wasn’t uncommon for the one to unexpectedly pop into the other’s quarters.

So regretfully Y/n turned back around and made her way to the living areas, wishing she had taken the time to remember everything she had needed before she had traveled halfway across the compound. Eventually she arrived at Four’s home, and hearing nothing following her knock, Y/n let herself in.

Y/n looked around the common area, searching the seats and shelves for her gloves. Nothing turned up, however, so she made her way to Four’s bedroom. There was nothing under the bed, nor in the closet, but as Y/n turned about she spotted a book sitting on the bedside table. Curious, she picked it up and flipped through the pages, wondering what kind of books interested her friend.

“Resorted to rifling through my stuff have you?”

Y/n whipped around to see Four standing behind her, having come out of the bathroom. The bathroom where he was evidently taking a shower, given his wet hair and glistening chest.

Oh. Oh.

Four never took off his shirt, or if he did, it wasn’t in front of Y/n. Now everyone in Dauntless was fit, but as Y/n looked at Four’s torso, she realized just how beautiful his body was. Loose, black pants rested on his hips, and his muscles tensed as he crossed his arms.

Realizing she had stared for far too long, Y/n forced herself to look at the book in her hand. “Oh, no.” Y/n said, letting out a breathy laugh. “I was looking for my gloves. Which, you wouldn’t happen to know where they are would you?”

Smiling, Four walked over to a set of drawers and pulled out the elusive gloves. Y/n watched his movements, but she couldn’t help a gasp that slipped from their lips as she saw Four’s back. A massive and intricate tattoo covered the entirety of his back, running from his neck down his lower back, with the tips of the lines disappearing underneath the waistband of the pants. Four turned with concern at Y/n’s reaction, but his face relaxed when he saw what she had gasped at.

“Have you never seen my tattoo?” He queried, walking back over to hand Y/n her gloves.

Speechless at Four being so close once again, Y/n simply shook her head.

“Do you want to?”

Bashfully Y/n nodded, curious as to what could have been so important that Four would have it inked across his whole back. He turned around once again, allowing Y/n to get a full view of the tattoo.

As Y/n dragged her eyes across Four’s skin, she saw the pattern of the lines with 5 circular symbols in the middle. Not just any symbols, she noticed, but the 5 factions. Four had all the factions represented on his back.

But as Y/n leaned closer to look at the details, her eyes shifted to something else. There were horizontal lines littered across Four’s back, and while Y/n at first thought they were part of the design, she soon realized that they were part of Four’s skin.

On instinct, Y/n’s hand came up to touch the scars. As soon as her fingertips touched the skin, however, Four flinched.

“I’m sorry.” Y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Don’t be. They don’t hurt anymore.” Four replied, and while his voice sounded so steady, Y/n could detect a bit of a waver underneath.

“What happened Four?” Y/n softly asked, gently running her hand over the scars.

Four’s shoulders tensed up when he heard the question, and for a moment Y/n regretted asking. But slowly he turned around, grabbing Y/n’s hand and holding it within his own. Softly he ran his thumb over her fingers, his eyes dark with the pain of his memories.

Four’s voice was low and thick when he spoke. “I wasn’t good enough for my father, so he tried to fix me with his belt.” Letting out a humorless laugh, Four shook his head. “I never changed, but I still got to keep these scars. Guess they serve as a good reminder that I won’t ever be good enough.”

“No.” Y/n vehemently shook her head. “No. Your father wasn’t good enough. Four you, you have always been enough. You never have to change for anyone. Not for your father, not for Dauntless, not for me. You are beautiful and wonderful and incredible just as you are.”

Y/n looked into Four’s eyes, hoping that someway, somehow he would see that she was saying the truth. He stared back, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes. Y/n could feel the warmth of his body radiating off of Four, and despite the intensity of the moment, she couldn’t help but feel her heart race as he seemed to get closer and closer.

Four’s eyes fluttered close as his face came close to Y/n’s, nose brushing her cheek as his lips angled towards her’s. He stopped just inches away, his warm breath fanning across Y/n’s face. “Tell me to stop.”

“No.”

And Four didn’t. Leaning in all the way, his lips pressed against Y/n’s. It was soft, gentle, and a little bit tentative. His lips are slightly chapped, and the scent of his body wash filled Y/n’s nose. It was sweet and reassuring, feeling the warm pressure of each other’s lips.

When Four pulled away, his heart was beating wildly. His eyes searched Y/n’s, trying to gauge her reaction. She smile, one side of her mouth edging up higher than the other. That alone sent Four over the edge.

All the tension, all the passion, all the pent up feelings come crashing over Four, and when he reattached his lips to Y/n it was no longer gentle. Hungry and a tiny bit desperate, their lips moved in tandem, engulfing the other’s.

Y/n’s hands made their way to Four’s short hair, fingers grasping the back of his head and pulling his face closer. In turn, Four’s hands slid down to Y/n’s hips, fingers digging in as he grasped them. He pulled her closer, eliciting a gasp from Y/n, but they don’t break their kiss.

Step by step the couple moved closer to the bed, until suddenly Four’s knees hit the edge of the bed. As his back hit the bed, he stared up at Y/n; her lips were swollen, a deep reddish hue giving evidence to his lips being on her’s.

Y/n didn’t miss a beat, instantly coming onto the bed and straddling Four. His hands returned to her hips, pulling her down on top of him. Y/n’s hands wandered to Four’s chest, feeling the outline of his abs and pecs. Leaning down, she slowly placed kisses along his sternum, making her way up to Four’s neck and jawing.

He arched his neck, loving the feeling of her lips on his skin. Feeling greedy, however, he turned his head back and caught Y/n’s lips with his again. Four’s hands wandered, sliding up from the hips along the sides of Y/n, feeling the outline of her body. His fingers twitched at the edge of her shirt, and she murmured a “yes”against his lips. Four didn’t wait another second, sliding her shirt over her head and throwing it to the side.

He took her in for the first time, suddenly hit by just how beautiful she is to him. Her top half covered in just a sports bra, Four’s eyes ate up every inch of exposed skin. His skin was slightly rough as his hand came in contact with Y/n’s waist, but the warmth from the touch flooded her entire body. Placing his other hand on the back of Y/n’s neck, Four flipped her over so that she was on her back and he was hovering over her.

Four grabbed one of Y/n’s thighs, guiding the the leg to rest on his hip. Hand twisting in her hair, Four pressed kisses to every inch of skin possible, from Y/n’s stomach to the valley of her breasts, and finally her lips again, loving the feeling of the pressure of Y/n’s lips against his own.

The two were breathing heavily when they broke apart, Four gently coming down and lying on top of Y/n. He pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her waist. Y/n wrapped the other leg around Four, feeling like she never wanted to leave his embrace.

“Don’t go.” Four whispered, his nose brushing Y/n’s ear.

Y/n didn’t respond, instead letting her lips on Four’s be a silent promise never to leave again.

[solarissun]

We are never, ever getting back together (pt 2)

afab!reader x Mike Schmidt

pt 1

WC: 3k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, enemies to lover, afab reader, angst, mentions of alcohol, mentions of intoxication, slow burn, mentions of child abuse, no use of y/n, aged up character

A/N: I want to apologize for any confusion the first chapter might have caused! This fic is a Mike Schmidt fic. It's just a slow burn/somewhat(?) of a love triangle and I thought adding Clapton would be funny. (plus I’m in love with him…) Before you read, just as a warning, this chapter gets pretty deep. 

Enjoy!

tags: @h3llo-k1tt @caminterrupted @jhutchismyl0verb0y

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It's been almost a month since you and Clapton's hookup. He's been texting you nonstop. Text after text floods in, and you ignore them all. You feel bad, but you’re too embarrassed to even face him. You sigh, flipping open to Clapton’s contact to read the new heap of texts.

U good?

Miss you. Hope that ur ok.

Wanna hang?

Helloooo?

Okay. Just wanted to let you know I’m thinking of u.

You groan, slamming your phone back down on the bedside table. You enjoyed the night you two had, and it felt great at the time. But now you just feel like shit. Now all you think about is Mike, and how disgusted he was with you. While you’re thinking about Mike, you realize you haven’t seen or heard him in weeks. He’s been out of his apartment way more than usual, and you’re sure he's avoiding you. To be honest, you don’t blame him. If he pulled that on you, you’d up and leave.

You lay back down on the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on a movie, desperate to think of anything else but Mike or Clapton. Suddenly, you hear frantic knocking on your door. You reach for the remote and pause the TV. You sit silently for a minute, wondering if you were hearing things. Not only is it 8 pm on a Saturday, but you also aren’t expecting any guests. Who could possibly be knocking on your door? As you're about to un-pause the TV, more knocks echo and bounce off the walls.

You slowly get up from the couch, and wearily walk over to the door. You shift to the balls of your feet, trying to peer through the peephole. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as all you see is the top of someone's head. You slowly wrap your hand along the cold metal of the knob, slowly turning it open. Your eyes widen as you see Abby on the other side.

Her face lights up, her eyes practically glowing. She squeals, bolting over to you and wrapping her arms around your waist.  “Abby!” You scream, pulling her into you.

“I missed you so much! Mike said you moved away to your castle to be a princess!” You scoff inwardly, Mike’s lie making you despise him even more. "Where is your castle, by the way?" You glance down at her, ready to make up some insane lie. Before you get the chance, you look to your left, seeing Mike skirt around the corner, bee-lining towards you. He’s panting, his face red. “Shit- I’m... Sorry. She’s so fast.” You plaster a sickly sweet smile on your face, ensuring Abby doesn’t notice the hostility between you.

Mike takes Abby’s hands, prying her off you. “Heyy! I want to play with her! Please! Please, Mike!” She whines, giving Mike her best puppy eyes. He looks up at you, a guilty look falling over his features. He shrugs at you, waiting for your response. “Okay, come in!” You say, focusing on the little girl in front of you instead of Mike. The two of them walk into your apartment, Mike clearly not wanting her to be alone with you. You give him a dirty look and he rolls his eyes. Luckily, Abby’s too focused on your decor to notice or even care.

She runs around your apartment, oohing and ahhing at every fuzzy pillow and every cute decoration lining your shelves. She opens your bedroom door, and you think she’s about to explode. She looks back at you, her eyes wide. “You can go in.” You say, giggling as she wastes no time to roll around in all the stuffed animals you still keep on your bed. You quickly follow behind her, flinging yourself in the pile. Mike leans against the door frame, smiling as he watches you both stand up and jump up and down the bed. Abby stops, her eyes catching on something on your bedside table. She jumps down, her feet landing on the plush carpet. She grabs a heart locket off your bedside table, holding it up to the light. “Woah! This is so pretty!”

You immediately freeze, your face almost lighting on fire. You quickly grab it out of her hands, stuffing it in a drawer. “Mhm, so pretty! Why don’t we get out of the bedroom?” You steer her out of the room, sliding around Mike. You loved her with all your being, but her lack of an attention span seemed like it was out to get you.

As Abby sits down on the couch, you look over at Mike. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows are furrowed. He glances back into your room, the locket he got you for your 3rd anniversary haphazardly hanging out of the drawer. You both stare at each other for what feels like forever. 

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Mike opens your front door, not even bothering to announce his arrival. He sits down next to you, a huge smile on his face. “What?” You mirror his smile, confused as to what he might be so excited about. “Okay, I know our anniversary isn't for a few days but I- I just couldn’t wait. I'm sorry it's cheap, I couldn’t afford much.” He says, awkwardly. 

He reaches into his hoodie pocket, taking out a velvet box. You look up at him sweetly, gasping as you open it. You pull out a heart-shaped locket. You feel your eyes well up as you open it, reading the words engraved inside.

“I’ll love you forever and Always, Mike.” 

You fling yourself onto him and you wrap your arms around his waist. He pulls you into him kissing you sweetly. In between kisses you mumble out, “I love you so much.” You feel so loved and so grateful that you met someone like him. You didn’t care about the money, he was worth so much more than gold or diamonds to you. 

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

You shake your head, pushing the memories out of your mind. Mike looks away from you, his cheeks growing rosey. You sigh loudly, sitting down next to Abby. Over the next few hours, you and Abby color what feels like a thousand different sheets of paper. 

By 11 pm, you’re both lying down on the floor, markers and papers scattered all across your living room. Mike watches from the couch, telling Abby a story as she draws him. A few times, you both glance at each other, but you both quickly turn your gaze to Abby instead. After Abby finishes her drawing, she holds it up to you and him. “It's so good!” Mike says, taking the paper out of her hand. He starts pointing out small little details Abby included, gushing over each and every one. You’re utterly entranced as you watch him. 

You miss him so much.

Your eyes widen and bite your cheek, wanting to slap yourself across the face for even thinking that. He abandoned you. That’s it. 

But.. He loved you so much. Or at least you thought so. How could he just up and leave without a word? You wanted desperately for there to be any other reason. A part of you was convinced there actually was. You bite down harder, a salty metal taste erupting across your tongue.

Whatever happened, he left. That’s it. There’s no excuse. You clench your jaw, trying to ignore the roller coaster that’s running through your mind. Maybe… Maybe for now you can forget your distaste for him. Just for a few minutes.

You smile softly as he and Abby burst out laughing. 

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

They leave. Too soon. As soon as the door shuts behind the both of them, the apartment is filled with deafening silence. You lay down on the hardware floor, the cold wood seeping through your shirt and biting into your back.

You never realized how much you truly missed Mike and Abby until you saw them tonight. Or… Maybe you just missed having someone to wake up to every day. Whatever it is, you shake it off and crawl onto the couch, too sad to walk a few feet to your bed. You pull a soft blanket over you, the edge of it just barely covering your feet.

You slowly drift off to sleep, dreaming of a time when you and Mike weren’t basically sending bombs to each other's front doors.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

You bolt awake, sweaty and shaky. You look around, your heart beating out of your chest. You’re unsure of what woke you up, but it scared the shit out of you. Listening closer, you hear crying, no, wailing. And it’s coming from next door. You quickly bolt up, running to your door. But, you pause as soon as you reach it. You don't want to get involved with Mike and Abby's life more than you have to. Plus, it could just be one of her usual tantrums. It could even just be something as trivial as a burnt breakfast. You pivot, turning back towards the couch. As soon as you hear screaming, you tear up all of your inhibitions and run into the hall. When you reach Mike’s door, it flies open and a woman storms out, dragging an inconsolable Abby out.

The woman, who you recognize as Mike’s aunt, is gripping Abby’s arm so hard that the skin around her fingers turns white. Mike runs out of his apartment pleading with her, “You can see she doesn’t want to go! Please, just-” Abby digs her heels into the ground grabbing Mike's shirt with her free hand. Jane yanks Abby to her side, pulling her away from her brother. “I guess I’ll have to go to the police and tell them you kidnapped my niece! I have sole custody, not you, Michael!” Mike’s eyes go wide, the color draining from his face. He takes a step back, putting as much distance between him and Jane as possible.

You watch in shock, beyond confused about what had gone down during the two years you were broken up. “You truly are a despicable woman.” He says, disgust dripping from his voice. Mike crouches down, getting eye level with Abby. “Abby, I’ll see you soon. I promise, okay?.” His voice cracks as he reaches out, wiping her tears with his thumb. Abby wiggles out of her Aunt’s grip, running forward to wrap her arms around him. He pulls her closer as she sobs into his sweater. Aunt Jane rolls her eyes and then rips Abby away with absolutely no remorse. She drags her down the hall, turning the corner, and disappearing completely.

He sits down, pressing his back against the wall. He exhales, tilting his head back and staring into the fluorescent lights. You cautiously take a step towards him, “Mike…?” He looks over at you, his jaw clenching as he sees you. “Still can’t seem to mind your own business, huh?” He scoffs, his eyes turning away from you. You pause, crouching next to him. You desperately want to comfort him, but you just don't know how. “Can.. Can I do anything?” He looks over at you, his face twisting into a death stare. “For starters, you can leave me alone.” You flinch, feeling a wave of sadness rush over you. You can’t even imagine how he feels. “Mike, please..” You reach out, your hand brushing his.

He slaps your hand away, and screams, “I said leave me the fuck alone!” You stand up, taking a step backward. “I’m sorry for having a fucking heart, Mike!” He laughs, standing up. “Oh, you have a heart? Did you ever tell Clapton why you called him at 2 in the fucking morning?” You look away from him, swallowing. “That's what I thought. Leave me the fuck alone, and stay out of my life!” You feel tears burning your eyes, threatening to spill over. Your lip quivers as you speak, “All... All I wanted to do was help.”

“This is exactly why I left you.” He turns away, storming into his apartment. As soon as the door hits the frame you break down, falling to your knees in the middle of the hall.

⚫︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎♡⚫︎

You’ve been crying for hours straight, the tears seemingly having no end. Your pillow is drenched and tissues are splayed out all over your comforter. As you wallow in despair, the sun slowly sinks further across the sky, the only light illuminating your room being the white glow of the moon.  It’s crazy to you how two entire years after your separation, Mike is still making you feel so extremely worthless. You could never be enough for him, no matter how hard you tried. What you hated most though, is that he had a point. You used Clapton. For your own sick and twisted reasons, you used him. And you hated yourself for it. 

Just as you begin to sob harder, you hear a thud against the wall, coming from the hallway. The sound echoes through the walls again, and it sounds almost like someone ran into it. You hear someone grunt and struggle, cursing. You recognize the voice and you groan, taking everything in you not to get up and check on him.

Suddenly, it feels like someone takes control of your body as you walk to your door, stepping into the hallway. You see Mike fumbling with his keys, missing the keyhole every time. He’s clearly very intoxicated. It’s surreal seeing him in such a way. He never drank when you were with him, he always told you he had to make sure Abby was always looked after and always had someone to turn to. Now that she’s not here, you guess he decided nothing is stopping him from getting shitfaced.

You walk over to him, grabbing the keys out of his hands, and unlocking the door yourself. He looks over at you, and any ounce of disdain he held for you from earlier disappeared. “Thanks..” He says quietly. You invite yourself in, making sure he gets to the couch without hurting himself. You avoid eye contact the whole time, knowing if you glance at him for even a second you’d burst out into tears.

Once he’s settled, you turn to walk away, but you feel his hand grasp your wrist, stopping you. “Please... Please stay.” He pleads. You sigh, removing his hand from you. “I can’t keep doing this Mike…” You say, finally turning towards him. He has a guilty look on his face, and he suddenly can’t seem to look at you. “I... I didn’t mean it..” He slurs, his face tipped towards the ground. 

You sit down next to him, your eyebrows raised. “You didn’t mean what..?” You question. “You know. What I said earlier. I do want you in my life…” He says, his eyes tracing the floorboards. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Mike, you’re drunk.” He shakes his head, finally making eye contact. “I swear. I do. I mean.. just look at you. I treated you like dirt and you’re still helping me? You’re just.. so.. so nice.” You frown, wishing so badly he was sober. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” He reaches out, his warm hand cupping your face. His eyes bore into yours as he speaks. “I’m not ever going to lie to you again. I promise.” You’re not sure exactly what he means by “again” but you brush it off, chalking it up to more alcohol-induced rambles. 

You stand up, Mike’s hand leaving your face and falling back to his lap. “I’m going to get you a glass of water, okay?” He nods, following your every move and watching you as you walk around his kitchen. 

Your eyes begin dancing around every framed picture he has and every drawing Abby made he has clipped to the fridge. Your eyes settle on a picture of you, him, and Abby at an amusement park, almost exactly a month before he left you. You pick it up, your thumb rubbing over the scratches in the frame. That trip was unforgettable. That was the day you knew he’d be the one you’d spend the rest of your life with. You couldn’t imagine a world without him or Abby. You put it back, wondering why he still has it. 

You fill up a glass, taking it back over to him. He drinks it in one gulp and he hiccups once it’s all gone. You place your hand on his chest, slowly pushing him back to get him to lie down. He takes the hint, lying back down on the couch. Your hand lingers there for a moment too long, but you quickly tear it away when he smiles up at you. The smile is still plastered on his face as he watches you drape a blanket over him. His eyes slip shut as he turns on his side, pulling the blanket to his chin.

You look down at him for a few moments. You just don’t understand how one moment you could hate him more than anything, and the next wish everything could go back to the way it used to be. You were half of yourself without him, and just as you started to feel complete he just had to infiltrate his way back into your life. As you watch his chest rise and fall, you just can’t help but still love him. Sadly, nothing was ever going to change that. 

You slowly creep towards the door, the floorboards creaking under you. He speaks so quietly you almost don’t hear him, “There was never another girl..” You freeze and turn back to look at him. “What?” Is all you can say. He doesn’t give you any explanation for what he just grumbled. You convince yourself you’re crazy and you’re just hearing things.

That night, you don’t sleep at all. You keep replaying that moment in your head, over and over. 

“There was never another girl.”

[seonghwaddict]

★ NEVER SAY NEVER. [ 009 ] flowers on vines.

synopsis. something about the eight most well-known boys of your campus just didn't sit right with you, so you never gave any effort to interact with them. but after a series of… interesting incidents, they can't seem to leave you alone. pairing. college students! vampires! ot8! ateez x fem! reader. genre. fluff, angst, eventual smut, college au, vampire au. chapter warnings. mildly suggestive content, implication of size kink. word count. 3k

　　　　　　　　chapter viii // chapter ix // chapter x

With a week left for the project, thirteen out of the fourteen had come and gone with the snap of a finger. You were aware time seemed to go so fast because of the person you were partnered with. Wooyoung had a way of getting the most stubborn of people to have the most fun. Meeting with him—and his friends, or, you supposed, your friends—nearly every day a week for months, it wasn’t a surprise that it went by so quickly.

You worked very well together, a shock to you initially but after getting so close to him it made sense. Not to mention how close you’ve gotten to his friends, who you now also considered some of your own best friends and loved. Not that you loved them, but you thought they were cool and fun and nice and unbelievably handsome and-

Your thoughts were quickly cut off by a knock on your studio door that cut through the music playing from your bluetooth speaker. Well, “studio” was a bit of an exaggeration.

When you and Sangmi first moved into this apartment, it became apparent to the two of you that there was an extra room. Of course, knowing that she was a dance student and probably practised for the majority of the day, you let her have the extra room but she quickly shot you down and told you to use it for your art instead. It wasn’t spacious enough to be a dance studio, anyway.

There was space for your assortment of shelves and easels, a long table stretched the length of the wall under the single window in the room, paint tubes, brushes and palette knives scattered all over the surface and various filled sketchbooks, new and scrapped canvases crammed just below the table on the equally long shelf.

You set a small couch next to the door, the wall behind it decorated with several of your paintings you favoured over the others. Sometimes, while you were working, you let Sangmi sit on the couch and relax, either watching you or doing something of her own as you enjoyed each other’s presence.

You set your paintbrush down next to your palette on the table and wiped your paint stained hands on a cloth before opening the door.

“Hey, I’m gonna go to the dance studio for a few hours.” Sangmi told you as you stepped aside to let her in. She looked at the painting of Wooyoung you were working on, the reference picture a screenshot of the dance video he filmed, taped to the top part of the easel. “Oh, it’s coming along so well!”

Over the past weeks she’s been checking on you and your progress, reminding you to eat whenever you get too carried away with painting. She’s seen all the stages and all the discarded versions of the painting, as well as all your frustration when you couldn’t get things to look quite right.

The canvas was fairly large, a magnificent oil painting of Wooyoung finally living up to your visions on the fabric—so you figured there wouldn’t be a need for smaller paintings as well. The dance was a contemporary one, choreographed to a song that made use of traditional instruments and performed on the stage of the university’s auditorium. The part you chose to paint was an almost breathtaking point of the choreography where he switched from sharp movements to an almost trance-like slowness, looking up with one hand elegantly reaching upwards. There was no denying his talent. 

The lighting from the stage’s spotlight was already dramatic, but you tweaked it on your canvas, adding more contrast and a soft glow to his illuminated features to create a more jarring effect. He looked ethereal with the way you painted him.

A couple minutes later, Sangmi left and you could continue painting in peace. Well, until the doorbell rang, at least. With a groan, you set your paintbrush down and walked into the hall to see who you needed to buzz in. As soon as you saw who was waiting outside the building, your eyes lit up and you wasted no time in hitting the button to unlock the door.

You practically ran to the bathroom to wash the paint off your fingers. By the time he arrived at your door, you already cleaned yourself up a bit and made a bit of an effort to sort out your messy hair. With a deep breath, you opened the door and practically threw yourself on him.

“Gosh, I thought I’d never see you again!” You pretended to cry into his chest as your embraced him tightly.

But Yunho only chuckled, ruffling your hair. “Oh, don’t be dramatic.”

You were only half joking. With you focused on your painting and him having to attend shootings and rehearsals for the end of year movie of the acting students, you hadn’t seen each other in a while. Each of the artistic majors had some kind of collaborative showcase near the end of the year; this year art majors and dancers worked together, the film majors worked with the actors, and the music majors worked with the theatre students. For that reason, you couldn’t find a lot of time to see half of the boys in general. 

“That’s an ironic thing to say for an actor.” You stepped away from him with a giddy laugh, noticing the bags in his hand and pointing at them. “What’s that?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Yunho smiled and walked past you to set the bags on the small breakfast table between the kitchen and living area. “I brought food. I didn’t know what you wanted,” he began taking different containers out of the bags, “so I got a variety—some soups, tteokbokki, fried chicken, japchae, gimbap and, of course, rice.”

“Thank you so much, but really didn’t have to get all this-“

He cut you off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry about it, I want to treat you to some delicious food.”

After a moment of you biting your lips with uncertainty, you nodded gratefully and moved to the kitchen to grab utensils and bowls. 

The two of you conversed comfortably as you stuffed yourselves full with the food he brought. You asked about the movie but he’d only give you answers so vague he may not have said anything at all; “What is it about?” “Well, you know, characters and stuff.” “Yunho, please!” “Ok, ok, fine… it’s a romance and involves characters.”

Though you didn’t really notice it, he paid a lot of attention to you. Whether you were talking or just eating, he was constantly taking notes in his mind. When you briefly mentioned a movie you liked, he later reminded himself to watch it when he had the time. Or when your eyes gave a slightly different reaction to a particular dish that showed you enjoyed it, he later reminded himself to make sure to order that dish next time he brings you food. Even when he was the one talking, he was so focused on the warmth in your face as you listened to him that he nearly lost his train of thought several times.

You told him about the progress of your painting, but adamantly refused to show it to him even when he begged so prettily. However, he quickly quelled his curiosity as you said something about wanting to surprise him and the rest of the guys. Something unfamiliar in his chest clenched when you giggled at his pout, reaching your hand over to pat his forearm.

“But I want to see your paintings!” He huffed jokingly, making you laugh again.

“I can just paint something for you out here.”

He seemed to be considering the offer for a while and then his pout disappeared, his eyes lighting up even though there was a darker glint in his eyes you couldn’t quite decipher. A smirk spread across his face.

“What if… you paint me?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ve thought about using you as a reference so-”

“No, no, you misunderstood me,” he let out a mischievous little chuckle that twisted your stomach, “I mean, what if you paint on me?”

“O-oh…” Mildly surprised by the request, you blinked. “Are you, um… are you sure you’d want that?”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you. “Of course I do! But if you don’t feel comfortable doing it, you don’t have to.”

With a newfound determination to make him happy, you nodded and got up, telling him to stay where he was seated while you went to grab some paint. Deciding oil paints weren’t the best idea, you settled on gouache, something between watercolour and acrylic that would wash off easily. You grabbed a few clean brushes and walked out with everything in your hands.

The sight that waited for you in the living room had your breath caught in your throat. Yunho was still there, as you had asked, but he had gone to the bathroom and grabbed a towel to lay on the floor.

He was on top of the towel.

Laying face down.

Shirtless.

You were glad he wasn’t facing you, otherwise he would’ve seen the way you had to turn around to pull yourself together. There was no denying how well-built Yunho’s body was—or any of their bodies, in fact—but seeing it so bare, despite only seeing his back, did things to you. For the sake of the friendship, you swallowed down the nervousness bubbling inside you and turned back around, grabbing a cup of water and a small towel from the kitchen before walking to where he laid himself down and kneeling next to his body.

You set your supplies next to you and took a breath. He sensed you next to him and turned his head to look at you sideways.

“Something wrong, tiny?”

The nickname only added into that static feeling of nervousness but you still shook your head, beginning to dip one of the brushes in water. “Everything’s fine, just relax, please.”

Yunho nodded and sighed softly, turning his head to the other side and closing his eyes. As you inspected your colour palette, you took a moment to think of what to paint on him. What would he like?

Finally, you decided to just let your hands take over instead of thinking about it too carefully. Knowing him, he’d be happy no matter what you decided to draw. Holding your breath, you let the brush lathered with paint touch his skin. There was no mistaking the way the hair at the nape of his neck stood up with goosebumps as he shivered ever so slightly. You briefly apologised about the paint being cold, but he didn’t mind at all. 

You drew a wavy, thin, sage green line from his left shoulder diagonally down to the left side of his waist, watching as the damp bristles glided over his muscles. They weren’t as defined as an athlete’s, but they were there, soft indications of his fitness.

As you let your mind and paintbrush wander, you found yourself turning that line into a vine of flowers and leaves. The style was almost impressionistic, barely abstract and precise smudges of colours that resembled plants you didn’t know the names of. With each stroke of the brush and twitch of his muscles, your shoulder relaxed and you let yourself bask in the moment just as he was.

Soon enough, you were happy with your creation and sat back to inspect it. Feeling the absence of your brushstrokes, Yunho turned his head to look at you again.

“Done?”

You tilted your head one way and then the other, looking at it from different angles before nodding with satisfaction. He gave you a toothy smile.

“Do you wanna do the front too, tiny?”

“Sure- wait, what?” Your eyes snapped to his, his question making your face feel warm. Painting on his naked front torso seemed considerably more… intimate than painting on the plane of his back.

“Yeah, like, paint on the front? Maybe you can connect the designs.”

And so you found yourself painting a similar vine on his chest after he laid himself on his back—of course, he had waited until you told him the paint was dry in fear of ruining your hard work. This vine started from his waist where the vine on his back ended and creeped up to his neck, disappearing behind his ear.

Throughout the process, you had to keep reminding yourself not to let your hands indulge in a few caresses of his porcelain skin, gaslighting yourself into believing he was just a canvas. But the way he was looking at you didn’t help much.

His eyes almost looked glossy as the reflection of the ceiling lamp’s light danced in them, looking at you with something you could only compare to adoration. You didn’t hate it at all, but you weren’t sure how to feel about it.

You also weren’t sure how you ended up in this position. At some point you must’ve been so focused, you didn’t notice him move you to sit on his upper thighs. Straddling him. But you didn’t want to make things awkward and move off him (not to mention that you greatly liked this position), so you stayed and continued your work from on top of him. You desperately tried to ignore the size difference that seemed so much more obvious when you were on him like this while he, on the contrary, revelled in it.

And at first you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, threatening to break through your rib cage. But the erratic beating soothed itself; it calmed down quickly when it came to terms with the fact that you were safe in his vicinity. He was safe.

Painting his front was similar to his back, his muscles twitching every time you brushed over them with paint. Now that you were seeing him like this, you nearly asked him never to put on a shirt again. 

You found yourself adding details that were ultimately meaningless and would most definitely go unnoticed, but you weren’t quite ready to move away from him. Not when he was looking at you with such round, tender eyes.

“Can I take a picture of this?”

His voice seemed slightly deeper than usual, perhaps because he hadn’t used it in a while. His question briefly caught you off guard, but you realised that it was kind of cute, really. So you nodded without lifting your eyes from the area you were painting just next to his abs.

Yunho’s hand reached over to the coffee table and he slid his phone off the surface. First he took a picture from his own point of view, looking down his chest to see one of your hands painting gorgeous flowers while your other one rested on his free hand’s forearm, the way you straddled him so perfectly just further down the shot.

The next picture he took was a landscape oriented photo, his hand outstretched to the side. This shot depicted the scene from the side, both of your smiling faces in the picture, as well as the bend of your arm as you painted near his neck and the soft arch of your back as you leaned over him ever so slightly. The way his free hand’s fingers rubbed and tapped their way up your thighs until they reached your waist went unnoticed by the camera.

While you were very focused on painting, you did eventually relax enough to let your own free hand explore his torso. With one hand focused on refining the flowers, the other glided over wherever the paint wasn’t touching, following the dips and rises of his body. It wasn’t until you accidentally passed your thumb over one of his nipples that he made an effort to stop you.

When it happened, he let out a shaky breath that seemed somewhat like a silent whimper, he raised a hand to close around your wrist and lifted it away from his chest. After he muttered a “tiny, please” you nodded and relaxed your hand in his grip, face flushing out of embarrassment.

Instead of dropping your hand, he repositioned his hold on it to cradle it gently, pulling it to his face and consequently pulling you further up his lap. You gaped at him as he pressed an electric kiss to your knuckles. But he didn’t stop there; he flexed your wrist to present your palm to him, his eyes never breaking contact with yours until his kisses trailed to your wrist. His lips lingered over your pulse point and you watched as his eyes fluttered shut.

It was impossible to deny the dark tint appearing on your cheeks, but you were glad to see he looked just as affected. Pink blush adorned his soft cheeks, his eyes seeming slightly dazed when he finally dropped your hand and looked up to you.

It wasn’t long after that that the paint fully dried and he had to leave, voice hoarse as he explained that he had an early shooting the next day and should probably go rest. After helping you clean up, Yunho pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, barely missing the corner of your lips, and took off into the night.

If you collapsed onto the couch and squealed into a pillow as soon as he was gone, that was nobody’s business but yours.

And if as soon as he got home, he practically ripped off his shirt and gushed to his brothers about how small and pretty you looked when you were on top of him—foregoing showing the pictures because those were for him and only him—that was also nobody's business but his either.

　　[ lilo's notes ... ] thank you all for waiting so patiently for this chapter <33. as you can see, you and yunho are quite… close 🤭 i honestly had so much fun writing this, possibly too much- but anyways, i hope you enjoyed it!! also, don’t worry, i did not forget about that little yeosang moment from the previous chapter, it will most definitely be brought up~~

　　ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ network ... @cromernet @blankjournal

　　ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ taglist ... @atinytinaa @marievllr-abg @pocketjoong @moonsangie @sarahleighflora @kiss-hwa @kyukyustar @cqndiedcherries @ateezourstars @kitty4hwa @hyukssunflower @aestheticsluut @neohyxn @mrowwww @darkdayelixer @itsokaytobedumb00 @hwa-sans @purplelady85 @seongfury @meginthebuilding27 @stopeatread @mothworked @foliea @euphoric-emily16 @teezers99 @mulletjoonsupremacy @imalildelulu @sunukissed @blehhhidk @ad0rechuu @brxken0rex @strawberry-moonpies @bluehwale-main @lightinythedark @stupefystudies @yandere-stories @skz-enthusiasttt @seongwin @huachengsbestie01 @galaxypox @moonminji @lilactangerine @lelaleleb ​​@asjkdk @honey-lemon-goose @stayteezdreams @diorwoo @yunho0o0o0o @majestickitty @shookykookie30 @0325tiny

[cybiirz]

ೃ⁀➷ DOCUMENTS

Wriothesley x Gn!Reader

Sypnosis : Seems like a certain Warden had tired himself out. Being the kind person you were, you chose to help, but you forgot how deceiving an inmate can be. He was no different…But at least he pays?

WC : 829

“Wriothesleyyy! I brought you something from Sigewinne. She says it’s for like, helping you stay awake or whatever,” You groaned out as you treaded up the stairs. Currently, you were holding a large box of medicine that you were supposed to be delivering to other inmates.

That was your punishment for getting involved in a little experiment that was supposedly forbidden in the fortress…Either way, it was tiring and you just wanted it to be done with.

Your footsteps echoed against the walls as you stomped onto the metal stairwell. Finally, you reached the top, and with a lack of breath might you add. Who the hell needed so much medicine anyway? Nevertheless, you kept your head low as you observed the different bottles inside.

“There’s a lot here, let me just find yours and…got it. Huh, this thing has way too many side effects! How the hell do you even—” You lifted up your head to look at Wriothesley, only to find him practically passed out on his desk. You paused and cocked your head to the side.

Suddenly, you had an idea and with a smile and a slight skip in your step, you closed in on the desk. Outstretching your arms, you held the box over the table before dropping the heavy equipment, creating a loud slam against the wood.

No reaction.

“Huh? So he’s really knocked out then,” You murmured quietly to yourself. You opted to walk around the table and slowly approached his unconscious form. You began poking his head, and to no surprise, no reaction.

“Jeez. You overwork yourself too much you idiot,” You whispered next to him. Glancing at all of his papers, it took less than a second to see how messed up everything was. You sighed deeply and decided to help out this son of a gun.

It had been about an hour or so, with you going over the different documents and having to dig deep into his shelves to pair up each page to its designated folder. Covering your mouth, you let out a loud yawn before looking back over at the warden. Still fast asleep.

A small chuckle left your lips as you walked back over to him. Resting yourself against the table, you lifted your left hand and gently stroked his head.

“Well I organised each and every document for you. And since I went over each word written, I've seen you’re doing a good job for this prison. Even for inmates like me, you treat us well…But you are definitely paying me back one way or another once you’re awake,” After partially scolding him but mainly complimenting him, you began to get lost in a daze as you stared softly at the man in front of you.

Once you finished speaking, his head turned slightly, eyes opening with a small smirk splayed on his lips. You swiftly retracted your hand and looked away, trying to avoid his stare.

“Thanks for that (name). I appreciate you doing that but, you know I could’ve done all of it that whole time. I wasn’t actually asleep you know?,” He replied, his voice slightly condescending.

“Yeah well I expect payment back and—” Your arms crossed over your chest before you paused. What did he just say? “Hang on, you were pretending?! You little liar! You’re so lazy that you had to fake sleeping to get someone else to do your work for you?! Now I better get that payment before I rip your—”

You were quickly cut off as a pair of lips landed directly onto yours. Your eyes instantly widened in shock as Wriothesley lifted his hand and cupped your face. Slowly but surely, you melted into the kiss and held your arm up before resting your hand onto his shoulder.

After parting, the light sounds of heavy breathing could be heard from you. You tried to look everywhere apart from him, but he moved his hand to grip your chin, causing you to face him.

“That was, unnecessary warden,” You mumbled, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“That was your payment,” He responded smugly. Looking at him with your blood rushing to your cheeks, you noticed the slight crease in the corners of his eyes. He was smiling at you, and not one of mockery or a fake smile, it was genuine.

“Well then…I have to get going and deliver these to the other inmates. Thank you for paying me back,” You cleared your throat before moving away from him and picking up the box. You left his medicine on the table as you made sure to secure the lid of the box. He crossed his arms over his torso as you began to descend down the stairs.

“(Name). Come back again and I'll be sure to repay you for whatever documents you organise for me,” Wriothesley’s voice had a somewhat teasing lilt to it, but it was evident he was serious. You rolled your eyes and simply scoffed at him before taking your leave.

But who were you to deny such a special treat?

A/N : Love me a little overworked man. But anyway, it’s finally my half term so i’ll hopefully be posting small drabbles that appear my head. Series work is becoming boring so oneshots and drabbles will probs be my thing. I might finish off the Gepard series but we’ll see. Also i’m thinking of doing a revamp to this blog buttt idk. Anyways, hope you enjoyed, feel free to leave requests!