#nobody answer that. i know the answer is both pressure and expectation

[daincrediblegg]

Universe. Explain to me why writing chapter 1 of a long fic feels like pulling teeth but the western au that I’ve hardly outlined on paper is already a fucking breeze to write?

[uranometrias]

nobody ever loved me like you do, spencer reid

just a little prompt i couldn't get out of my head. this is majority fluff, it got kind of heavy towards the end, but no smut because i'm a coward, reader is a university student, there's an age gap between reader + spencer, unspecified, but reader is over 22. based off of 'pov' by ariana grande.

this absolutely got long as shit, i don't know how to be normal. (5.6k wrds)

"what's on your mind?" you hadn't realized you'd gone quiet until you feel the dip of the couch. it takes a moment to snap out of the little moment you've dug yourself into, but when you do you're pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend on the couch next to you. he grabs hold of the book you'd haphazardly discarded, and flips it over. you imagine internally he's tsking at you, he was always reminding you to be careful of the spine of the books you read, but you're happy he doesn't make a move to scold you about it now. instead, he closes it, and places it in his lap, letting his eyes trace all over your pretty face.

"is everything okay?" he prods, and in truth, you were fine. you didn't really know why you'd gotten so lost in your head, it just happened sometimes. domesticity was still fairly new, and despite the fact that your relationship with spencer had gotten to the point where you both were comfortable staying at each other's places for long periods of time, you still kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. spencer was the first guy you'd been with that was older, already established, had a 'big boy job' as you so eloquently labeled it. he had security.

not that you were some lazy, unprepared individual letting your life slip by, but you were still figuring things out. you were in university, and you had big dreams and hopes for your future, it just felt like it was taking forever to get there. to your future. everyone was always telling you not to wish away your youth, but by law you were no longer a child, you hadn't been for a while. your twenties were meant to be for 'figuring things out', finding yourself all over again, or that's what you were always hearing. over time it felt easier said than done.

the point was when you were still uncertain about what you wanted to spend the rest of your life doing, it was hard to feel grown up. especially when you had a boyfriend like spencer who was always doing something to raise the bar for humanity. he was a genius, he worked for one of the most prestigious units in the fbi, he was in the fbi... that in itself was an accomplishment. he had phds, bachelor degrees, and an extensive knowledge of literature in numerous languages and texts. to top it all off, he really was a great boyfriend.

you supposed it was just you feeling a bit insecure. you didn't believe that he expected too much of you, but that didn't stop you from putting unnecessary pressure on yourself. "everything's fine." you promise, and you tack on a warm smile to really sell it. the action triggers an involuntary smile from spencer, and you feel a bit faint, just because he's so pretty. "i was just watching you read." you admit, and it was true, you had gotten a bit lost in how quickly spencer was speeding through his own book. it didn't trigger insecurity, it just left you in awe at how absurdly lucky you were to have bagged spencer.

"yeah?" and he's got this edge to his voice that he usually gets when he's tired, sleepy, content. it was comforting, knowing that he was comfortable being here, like this with you. "are you sure that you're alright?" and he's leaning forward, hand cupping your cheek as he rubs his thumb over your jaw, and you lean into him. "you know you can talk to me about anything." he adds, and he's perceptive. you're certain that part of this has to do with his job, and the other part has a lot to do with the fact that he knows you so well.

"i know." you answer instantly, and you bring your hand up to hold over top his. "trust me, i know. that's why i like you so much." you beam brightly, and you lean in and press a quick kiss to his lips. it's a peck, and it sounds like one with the way that your lips smack together. you note his disappointment when you pull away just as he moved to kiss you a bit more fiercely. you find yourself giggling a bit as he pouts at you, and you lean in to offer him another kiss.

"like?" he asks, and you know he's fishing, but for what you're not sure. his eyes never look as bright as they do when he's sitting across from you. it offers you a bit of an ego boost to know that someone as handsome as your spencer consistently looks so enamored and enraptured with you. "i thought that we were a little past like..." he says, and your nose scrunches up at his big doe-eyed stare. "am i wrong about that?" and he holds his breath.

"no, you're right." you promise, and he relaxes. "we're past that." spencer looks relieved, and you wonder sometimes what's going on in his mind. he doesn't say anything for a while, he just looks at you, his thumb continues to draw soothing circles on your face, and you think you might be convinced to fall asleep if he keeps it up. "i'm sorry." you offer, and spencer's immediately shaking his head at you.

"don't apologize." he presses, and he's peeling his hand away from your face. now it's your turn to be disappointed. "and if you don't feel like we're past the 'i like yous'... that's okay too." and he looks sad now. it's your least favorite expression on him, and you wonder if you've done something wrong. "i don't want you to feel like you're rushing yourself, okay? or like you're forcing yourself to feel anything that you don't." he says, and your eyebrows furrow inward, face contorting.

"i don't feel that way." you deny sternly. spencer's head tips to the side, curls following along, and the urge to run your hands through his hair almost chokes you out. "spencer, i don't feel that way." you reiterate, and you hate that his expression doesn't change. you hate that he looks like he doesn't believe you. "i have too many feelings for you." you admit, and you shake your head. "all of the feelings." you insist, and the problem is that you haven't managed to fully verbalize what that means. spencer's told you that he loves you, often.

you haven't managed to say it back, but not because you don't believe it. it's more so out of worry that once you tell him, things will get too real. you'll grow too comfortable, and by-proximity expose parts of yourself that spencer might not be ready for. things that'll make him run for the hills, and take his sweet i love yous with him. "that's a lot of feelings." spencer replies, and he sighs deep, chest moving with the action. you smile, mostly to ward off the tension.

he doesn't return it, and you suddenly feel anxious. "do you want-" he trails off, and he looks conflicted. "if you wanted to break up..." and your heart sinks. "you would tell me, wouldn't you?" he asks, and you immediately reach out for him, his hands curling into yours as you interlock your fingers. you want to slam your head into a wall, mostly for worrying him in this way. The last thing you'd been thinking about was a breakup, in fact, you'd finally resided yourself to the fact that you were in this relationship as long as spencer wanted you.

"do you think that's what this is about?"

"isn't it?" his quick retort makes you frown, and now you're facing one another with matching pouts. "i just want you to trust me with your feelings... all of them." he explains. "even the ones i might not enjoy the most." he treads lightly, and you find that there's nobody in the world who could matter more to you. "and i'm sorry if i haven't been doing enough to let you know that." and you huff in annoyance, but not with him. never with him. with yourself for overthinking.

"you've got it all wrong." you tell him, and you hope your words sound as definitive as they feel. "a breakup is the farthest thing from my mind." you shuffle a bit on the couch, mostly to invade the space he just took. you don't stop moving until he's back in your orbit, your knees brushing against his leg. "i've never met anyone like you before." and it feels cliche, but you suppose you've earned the right to quote the words, because they're true. "i think as far as expectations for boyfriends go, you managed to smash through them all."

spencer finds himself nervous under the onslaught of kind words. he can't look away from you though, because it's so rare when you let him into your head. despite all his profiling skills, you were still almost completely a mystery. he understood your physical cues, but the emotional ones were still hard to pinpoint. "i think sometimes i still keep waiting for you to realize how amazing you are..." and he has that annoying feeling of giddiness in his stomach. it feels childish, but he adores the rush loving you continues to give him.

"i think i'm a little aware." he says, and you laugh. your hands reach out, and now you're the one holding his face. he thinks it's a comfort thing of yours, the way you like to hold onto him when you're talking. his apprehension towards touch was no match for the way your hands on his face brought him a feeling of comfort like nothing else.

"and you still want to be with me?" you ask, and you don't sound bashful, more confused than anything else. spencer's confusion soon matches your own, his eyebrows furrowing as he recites your words over and over in his head. what sort of question was that? "i just mean that there's so many types of women out there... you work with so many." and your mind drifts to his closeness with the girls he worked with in the fbi. namely jennifer jareau.

you'd only met her a few times, you knew she was married with sons, but you couldn't shake the thought that if she wanted him she could have him. she was older, more confident, disastrously pretty. "i just don't understand why someone like you would want to be with someone like me." you express, and spencer is flabbergasted. he forces you to peel your hands from his face, instead choosing to hold your hands and squeeze them gingerly.

"someone like you?" and he wants you to get it all out, every last bit of it, mostly so that he can correct every incorrect notion about yourself that you expose.

"someone who's immature, naive, inexperienced, uncertain about almost every major decision... you know? someone like me." you divulge, and he winces. "you've got so much going for you, i just don't want you to feel like i'm holding you back." you admit. "so when i saw you reading... i don't know-" you trail off, and spencer's eyes shoot across the room to his own discarded book. "i guess i just remembered how incredible you are, and how severely inadequate i must be in comparison." and your voice gets quieter as you finish.

"you could never hold me back." he states firmly. "and even more than that... i don't think it's actually possible for someone to really hold you back." he admits, and you feel him beginning to start on a tangent, though you don't mind. they were far and few in between these days. "to me it always seemed more like an excuse people use to place blame on someone else for their shortcomings." spencer's let go of your hands, and you watch them as he gestures boisterously. "for everything i'm good at, there's so many areas where i fall short."

you don't think you've ever loved him more.

"and who says phd's and fast reading skills are what make a person better suited or fit for anything?" and he knows that you want to rebuttal, so he continues so you don't get the chance to. "my skills help me with the job that i do... we can agree that's true, right?" he asks, and you nod your head. "right. but, you don't want to have my job, do you?" he asks, and your nose curls up. you thought that what spencer did was admirable, you loved celebrating the victories with him, you knew it was important, but you don't think you had it in you.

"no, i guess not." you disagree.

"and you don't need to be called 'doctor' or hold a gun, or kick down doors, in order to be... a suitable life partner."

"you're not kicking down any doors, spencer." you crack a joke, and you like that he laughs, it's the kind that morphs into a toothy smile.

"maybe not, i just mean that out of the two of us, you're not the one who needs to worry about not being adequate... i don't think there's anything in existence that would make me not want to be with you." and you feel bashful, but know full well that you can't pull your eyes away from him. "you're a lot to lose." he exhales, and you blink. "and you don't need doctorates or much of anything for that to be the case." spencer beams a little bit, "you captivate people without even realizing it sometimes." spencer's hand moves to rest on your thigh.

"you think so?"

"sometimes i try and figure out how i got so lucky, and i hope that i keep doing whatever it takes to make you stay." he admits. "does that make sense?" he asks, and you feel your heart wanting to burst out of your chest.

"it makes a lot of sense." you agree. "and i can guarantee that as long as you want me, you'll have me." you promise.

"and if i want you forever?" he asks, and you smile despite yourself.

"then i guess you're stuck with me forever, doctor reid." and he likes the thought a lot more than he anticipated. he thinks that's why he can't ignore the urge to kiss you. he leans forward, lips overtaking yours like a magnet being pulled towards a kindred force. you almost pounce, finding yourself rooted on top of his lap, fingers finally finding solace in his hair, as his hands scope out your waist and the curve of your hips.

you hum when his lips peel away from yours, landing on your neck as he peppered the space with kisses and small bites. kissing spencer was a surefire way to get you both started down a path of insatiability. it was dangerous, but you supposed with the conversation context in mind, it made perfect sense for this to be the end result. still, it feels like there's more to say, and you suppose that it's why you tighten your hold on his hair just slightly, craning your neck to give him all the access he needs. "spence?" you gasp.

he doesn't verbally acknowledge you, instead his arms loop around you, bringing you closer as he proceeds to leave hickeys in areas that would be much too difficult to hide. "spence..." you try again.

"i'm listening." he promises before he's placing a kiss just behind your ear. it makes you squirm, suddenly feeling lightheaded as his grip on your waist tightens slightly.

"can you tell me again?" you ask, and you don't want to ruin the moment, especially after he just sweetly poured his heart out to you. "tell me how you feel about me..." you instruct a bit more impatiently. spencer's more interested in leaving more marks on your skin, but he also enjoys the vulnerability that comes with expressing himself to you. he pulls away from your neck with one last peck, before his lust-filled gaze is locked on yours. you've taken to raking your nails through his hair, gently dragging against his scalp.

"you still don't know?" he asks, and part of you thinks he's doing this on purpose. it's not until you register the slight upturn of his lips that you recognize that he's teasing you.

"is it so bad that i want to hear it again?" you press, and you're feeling a bit impatient, mostly because you're itching to finally spit the three word phrase out, but you want him to say it first.

"no." he denies, head shaking. "it's not bad at all, and i don't mind telling you, but, can you ask me the right way?" and you feel the shift, the way his fingers finally slip under your shirt. it makes you jump, the way his fingertips trace over the skin of your lower back. "what are you fishing for, pretty girl?" you don't have the courage to stare at him anymore, instead you find your head glued to his chest, eyes squeezed shut, as your arms looped around him.

"i'm not fishing." you deny, and spencer presses a swift kiss to the top of your head. despite the desire to 'get to the good part' that you know you both feel, you still enjoy this part. the clinginess, the way he showered you in attention and affection that you had never believed yourself worthy of. he loved you so openly, so easily. it never felt like a burden, it never felt like something he had to try too hard at. you liked that, you liked that he made falling in love so easy.

"no?" he doesn't sound convinced. "what are you hoping i'll say then? i know you have an idea." he says and his chin is resting on the top of your head as he adjusts you on his lap. the tension still rests in the air, but he's holding you like he's comforting you almost, arms looped around you in an almost-hug that feels warm and comfortable and familiar. it's the kind that you could get lost in, fall asleep in. maybe you will, just as soon as you get through this last little emotional hoop.

"you don't know everything."

"did i say that?" he corrects you lowly, he's not impatient with you, and you wonder how long it took him to garner enough stamina to keep up with your sass.

"no." you deny, and he hums in agreement. you've taken to running your hands up and down his back, palms closing and opening as you try and quiet your anxiety. "i want to hear you say that you love me again." you admit, and it feels like a lump is forming in your throat. "i know that you do." you add a second after. "but sometimes i like to hear it anyway..." you clear your throat. "it makes me feel-" and you trail off, because you haven't really gotten over this hurdle.

spencer's smiling, and you know that he is, because as much as he knows you, you think you know him a little bit too. "how does it make you feel?" he asks, and you shake your head, eliciting an amused sort of exhale. "you can tell me anything." he reminds you, and of course you know that. "or we could move on... if it's too much to say right now." he offers you an out like the gentleman he always has been. "do you want to go back to before?" and you definitely want to kiss him.

maybe do a bit more than kiss.

"yes." you agree, but when it seems like he's about to move, you hold him even tighter to you. "wait, no." you deny, and he's exhaling through his nose. you cringe, because you know that sometimes you can be indecisive, but you think about what he'd told you earlier. you remind yourself that he wanted you, and you calm down. "i want to kiss you again." you start, and he doesn't say anything, because he knows you're not finished. "but i want to finish our conversation first." you huff, and he's surprised, in a pleasant sort of way.

"we can do that." he promises, "what do you want to tell me?"

"i like when you tell me that you love me." you admit, and you think it's good that you're not looking at him. you also like that he's still lightly dragging his fingers along your waist, it makes you shy, but you welcome it. "it's not something that you just tell everyone, so i like that you tell me, even though i haven't said it back." you feel like you're losing your breath as you rush to get it out. "and i like how what you said earlier makes me feel."

"how's that?" and spencer is spencer. he likes to drag things like this out, he likes for you to elaborate, to explain yourself. you suppose he likes to hear you just as much as you like to hear him.

"i don't know how to express it really, but it feels nice. 'cause you always sound like you mean it when you say it." you freeze when his fingers stop their slow journey, but you don't have time to focus on that right now. "not like butterflies, but it's like stabilizing." you shrug your shoulders. "and it's not the sort of thing that feels like it comes with some sort of price. like i don't hear it, and think 'oh he's only saying this because he wants to sleep with me', it doesn't-" you inhale. "it doesn't make me anxious or anything."

spencer's disappointed that his memory mostly works for things he's seen rather than heard, because he wants to relive this conversation for the rest of his life. it's a bit unheard of, especially in his lifetime. he's seen people in love, he's witnessed incredible relationships, but nothing he's seen has ever compared to the way that you manage to make him feel. he's had girlfriends, one-night-stands, experimentations, and things in between that felt like they could be the real thing, eventually. being with you though feels easy.

even when things go wrong, when you're too stubborn to communicate, and he's too tired to fight for you to, it still feels easy. like the struggles that come with your relationship are struggles he's willing to deal with. you're someone he's willing to deal with.

"it makes me want to stay." you offer, and it's scary, mostly because you've got the world's worst habit of running away when things get too real. you packed your bags at the first inconvenience, it was who you were, who you had been before spencer. you didn't stick around to fight for your relationships, you didn't let anyone fight for you either. "like... like even if things go horribly wrong, it'll still be okay as long as you still sound like you mean it when you say i love you."

you don't think you'll cry, but you do think once you're all finished, you'll want to stay wrapped up in him like this.

"i've just never met anyone that makes life make so much sense." and your leg is slightly shaking, and you're burrowing even deeper into his chest, holding him just a bit tighter. "so please... can you tell me again?" you ask, and your hands have taken fistfuls of his shirt, curling just slightly as you try and will your heartbeat to slow.

"you all done?" he asks, and you nod your head, all done with talking for now. "i'm so proud of you." and your confusion is back, as well as your ability to talk.

"what for?" you inquire, and he unloops his arms from around you. you don't want to move, but you know where this is going. still, you decide you'll wait until he asks you.

"can you look at me, please?" he asks quietly, and you're immediately pulling back, hands in your lap as you take in all the emotions resting on your boyfriend's face.

"oh, spence!" and you hope he's not about to cry. you've never been privy to it, but you can imagine what it'll do to you in your emotionally high state. "i know that was a lot, i'm sorry." you apologize despite the fact that you've done nothing wrong, a bad habit.

"please don't ever apologize for something like that." he corrects you gently. "i'm proud, because i can imagine how hard that likely was, but you did it anyway, so thank you for sharing how you're feeling with me." you look away just for a second, the moment feeling too heavy for you to manage. you're looking back at him just a moment after, his stare something you've always been terrible at ignoring and avoiding. "would it be a let down if i told you that i feel the same way about you?" he asks, and you wonder if this phase ever ends.

you don't want to wake up one day and find that your smile no longer reaches your eyes when you look at him, or hear his voice.

"no." you answer quietly. "i like when you agree with me, especially about your feelings for me." and it's a small joke, one you partially mean. "but, you still haven't told me that you love me, yet." you remind him a bit more sternly than you have been.

"i know." he retorts, and he looks a bit smug. you want to say that you hate when he gets like this, but you know you're lying. "i'm waiting to see how long it'll take you to crack." he admits, and your nose curls. he beams at you, and you want to glare, just for the fun of it. "why are you determined not to say it first?" he asks, and you cross your arms over your chest, busted.

"you don't know what's in my head." you instead argue, and his eyes roll, but he still seems amused. "i can say it first if i very well wish." you add, and his eyebrows raise, a challenge. unlucky for you, because you had a problem with being challenged. you would always walk right into his trap like a fool.

"so then say it." he taunts, and you realize pride is one hell of a killer.

"fine, i will." you retort, voice laced in mock-aggravation. "i love you." you deadpan, you say it like it's a bother. "happy now?"

"not with that attitude. can you try again? say it like you mean it?" he presses, and you're weaker in the knees than you initially believed. all your bravado goes right out the window, and you're suddenly anxious again, with no bite to curb your words, you're certain he'll hear every ounce of emotion you feel towards him if you say it again.

"spence." you exclaim, and he's not moved. you think you hate him just a little. "it's not fair, you're being mean." you express, looking down at your lap, and you know that you're only behaving this way because you're overwhelmed.

"i'm not." he promises, and he ducks just a little so that you're looking directly at him again. "i wouldn't be, especially not about this." he adds. "i just want you to say it again for me, can you do that? please?" he asks, and you hate how absurdly handsome he is sitting across from you. he's got this way of looking innocent even when he's baiting you, and he's always got this intensity in his stare that's enough to knock the wind out of you. it's kryptonite, and precisely why you concede.

"spencer, i love you." he groans, quietly, but you hear him all the same. he's kissing you before you can react, and it's easy getting lost in moments like these. he always kisses you like he's trying to swallow you whole, too handsy for his own good. his kisses are desperate, tongue swiping out just slightly, likely to test the waters. you match his ferocity, and let your own tongue drag over his bottom lip before you press a bit more forcibly, hurriedly, desperately.

"i love you." you don't know why you're saying it again, but it's not as hard as the first time. you kiss him again, grumbling when he's quick to lean out of reach. you shoot him a sour glance, and he's not moved.

"hey, i love you too." he echoes you in the most love sick sort of way. it feels precisely as you had described it earlier, and that makes you happier. the fact that the feelings didn't change, didn't disappear all because you'd said the three words back. you hum contentedly, and then your head is back on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "does it still sound like i mean it?" he asks, he questions you softly, like he's trying to preserve the moment.

"mhm." you answer quietly, and you strain to kiss his throat once, before your back to resting against him. "did it sound like i meant it?" you mimic his line of questioning, and you're happy when his arms are back around you. he's a lot more respectable this time around, but before long, his hands are finding their chosen place back under your shirt, exploring your waist and hips as you try not to squirm.

"yes." he replies, and you're glad to hear it. "can you say it again?" you suppose in the grand scheme, you do have lots to make up for. he'd probably want you to say it over and over again.

"i love you." it's instantaneous, as is the way spencer's hold on you grows more firm. you hadn't wanted to mention it, the way sitting here like this with him had you itching for more, but it seemed you weren't the only one in that headspace. "spence?" you question, and he's dragging his hand up and down your back, legs starting to bounce just slightly.

"yeah?"

"can we go back to before now?" you ask, and you expect him to be a tease. he could never just give you what you wanted, he always had to drag it out, and make you nervous.

"back to before?" he pries, and he's leading. you huff audibly, and you adjust yourself on his lap, trying to control the way the pit in your stomach seemed to grow warm, heating you up from the inside. "you'll have to be a bit more specific than that, love." he tsks, and you hate him.

"i just-" you frown, hating this part. "i want you." you deadpan. "and you know that, so i don't know why you're being like this." except you do, because it's amusing to spencer to watch you get all flustered and nervous. you don't know why, but it's how he is. you think that one day you'll try your hand at flustering him back, just to see what all the hype is about. "i want you to-" and you're not sure exactly what counts for too blunt with a boyfriend like spencer. "let's f-fuck, okay?" and spencer's got that stupid amused look on his face again.

god, you hate him.

"that wasn't too hard was it?" he questions, and you cut your eyes. you're certain he'll make you pay for the looks, and the smart mouth down the line, but you can't care right now.

"it was excruciating." you correct haughtily. "you should be ashamed of yourself for treating the girl that you love this way." you add, and spencer's got his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he takes you in. you gulp, shuffling just slightly as you realize precisely the predicament you've gotten yourself into.

"do you want me to make it up to you?" he asks, and he sounds breathier than before, which only serves to make you more of a hot-and-bothered mess.

"i-" you blink owlishly, unsure of his intentions.

"yes or no?" he presses, and you think either way this goes, your done for. "you've just got to say the word."

"yes." head nodding, eyes blown to hell, it's easy enough. "you should. you definitely should." you respond, and then he's kissing you again. he's much more intense this time, stealing all of the air out of your lungs as his nails scratch against your skin, you hands moving to cup his face, you hope to keep him anchored to you this way. when he breaks from the kiss again, you're ready to lay into him, only to squeak when he scoops you up, standing up from the chair.

your legs immediately lock around his hips, and you're panting already, he seemed to have that constant effect. all it took was a little kissing, and you were already a mess. "i love you." he says this like it's a reminder, and you are quick to chase his mouth with your own. you could say you were a bit obsessed with the act.

"i know." you reply, and his eyes roll at you, but he still looks as love sick as you feel.

"good. i'm going to need you to remember that, because when we get to the bed, i'm going to do a lot of things that might make you think the opposite." he says this like a definitive promise, and you gasp. "do you understand?" he asks, and you're shivering, the anticipation already managing to strike you down.

"yeah-yes!" you stutter. "i understand, it's okay." you add. spencer's already got this look of pride residing in his eyes, and you know that you're in for it, silly you for thinking love confessions would be enough to get you out of all the backtalk and clear attitude. "i'm ready!" you insist like the eager girl you are.

"we'll see." he retorts.

god, you love him.

[stellaaarree]

thinking of jacking miguel o’hara off while he tries to keep his pride 😇.

handjob, degrading, sub!miguel. G/N!reader

sat on his lap, lips attached to his already abused neck as you whisper shameless things to him. being greeted with a look or grunt full of disdain. as you continue your tactics of breaking him down the lightest sigh departs from his plush lips.his cheeks instantly turning pink as he forcefully scrunches his eyes and lips shut, gauging the endless teasing from his slip up.

“what was that, baby?” your voice coos, thumb coming up to put pleasurable pressure on his throbbing neck. getting him to speak. “d…don’t call me that.” he groans, unexpectedly getting the blissful feeling of miguel’s hips jerking up into yours by instinct. his lips drop open into an ‘o’ full of shame and need. you’d successfully broken him. not like he was gonna still fully submit though.

your thumb leaves the throbbing mark on his neck to the crotch of his suit. the digital hologram faltering as his fully erect cock and all of its girth goes straight against his stomach. so he does go commando, lyla had mentioned that once or twice. as miguel hears your snicker his hand comes to grip your hip. “don’t.” he warns sternly, a part of his pride joining him again. completely disintegrating as your thumb circles his pink mushroomy tip. “fuckkkkk..” his words strained. you had barely touched the man and he was already trying to push himself through an inexistent hole in your hand.

your hand ever so slowly sinks down, feeling every hard inch of him. finger pads feeling through the neediest veins. “don’t fuck around.” he chides replied with a snarky, “thought you didn’t want this? you’re waayy too proud for some pleasure. got a multiverse to save, right?” your words shameless. as soon as he composes himself to gather some words your hand jerks him fully. balls to tip. trying to purse his lips, fangs sinking in drawing a trickle of blood he has to moan. pushing his hips up for more friction he’s met with a grip around his tip that can only get him to melt backwards and let you continue.

“fuckin’ needy. you know that? what would people think if they saw you like this. getting your needy cock stroked by your assistant. bet you do this with everyone who gives you the chance huh?” your degrading words just getting him to moan and attempt to buck further. he had a thing for that to i guess. your other hand comes up to his abdomen, circling around his base and balls. “you like this?” you ask rhetorically, being greeted with no answer just more moans your hands both wrap around him. one stroking him harshly upwards while the other circled and pressed on his leaking tip. “sí, sí joder me gusta.” he pleas in spanish. poor little head not being able to comprehend english while he was being pleasured so good :(

“i’ve barely even touched you.” you scold. “gonna cum ,you slut?” this was the one time you had control of him. it was being used to the advantage clearly with all the degrading words. not knowing if it was your words or your actions, maybe both he comes. the substance dripping onto your fingers as you jack him through his high. while his mouth was temporarily open in bliss your cum-coated fingers stuff his mouth full. without thinking miguel’s tongue instantly slipping around and sucking your fingers. collecting his own pleasure as he swallowed harshly. a sour taste throughout him. it was nasty. nobody would have expected this from their set on professional boss.

“good boy.” you praise for the first time. other hand working through his still hard cock as you took him through his second orgasm, hips bucking as his thighs shook. if this was what he was like over a simple handjob, blowjobs and cowgirl would certainly fry his now needy brain as he panted for more.

a/n, omd sorry i dipped for like a week haha, i really jus wasn’t feeling it. but i’m back and horny as ever😚😚!!

[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 17 - Public

More demon shenanigans! I love Diavolo too much ya'll, can you tell? Enjoy!~

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

The restaurant wasn’t anything short of what you’d come to expect from the prince of the Devildom. Fancy dresses and suits everywhere you looked around the room that were accentuated by the glittering lights above you both. And it wasn’t even for some kind of special occasion either; you and your lover were here because you simply could be.

Yet this was by no means your typical dinner, oh no. See, you and Diavolo had this little game that you liked to play. Whenever the two of you had a differing opinion on something, such as a date day, you’d go somewhere public with a little surprise that nobody who was any the wiser could see. The first one to come undone by the vibrations was the loser.

“Darling?” The prince’s voice draws you out of your thoughts that were certainly not meant for such a public place. The low buzzing of the bullet against your most sensitive spot could be felt through your entire body. “Is everything alright?” You cursed your royal lover in your mind, wanting nothing more than to jump the man where he sat.

“Yeah, I am,” you lie, crossing one leg over the other. It doesn’t help, but does serve to add more pressure to your already aching sex. “What about you dear?” You fiddle with a ring on your right hand and watch Diavolo sit up just a bit straighter. A satisfied smirk crosses your lips, and it’s returned by the demon across from you.

“Just lovely,” he purrs, knowing full well the consequence of his words. This little game wasn’t played without blatant rules. Any check-in’s or certain words earned one point on to the opposing person to turn the toy up a notch. 

And for the moment, all is quiet again. The prince tries to be stealthy, using his foot to rub along your leg and he chuckles darkly when he watches you stiffen. A waiter comes by to ask a question and you take this opportunity to turn the little bullet in your lover’s slacks up two notches.

Diavolo’s words stutter a bit, but he plays it off as a brief coughing fit. “Are you alright young master?” the waiter asks, clearly concerned. Dark golden eyes watch you carefully in their peripheral. 

“Perfectly fine,” the prince answers with a confident smile, thus having the waiter leave the two of you in peace. “Two in one go? That’s a cheap shot Y/N.”

You smile innocently back at him. “A distraction and an attempted cheat are cause for points my love,” you tell him, quoting something he’d told you during a previous round. You feel the bullet ramp up on your end and barely cover a squeak.

“And sassing is cause enough for me,” Diavolo tells you, voice dipping down to an octave you only here when the two of you are alone. “Now behave for me, won’t you?” You bite your lip and take a deep breath to calm your frazzled senses. You couldn’t lose, not now.

Your dinner had nearly finished, and the both of you were teetering on the edge of completion. your bullet had been sitting at level 8 for the last 15 minutes, and you were beginning to lose your mind. Thoughts of your royal lover abandoning all common sense and decency to bend you over the table in front of the whole restaurant amongst other debauched things were flooding your thought to the point your answers were getting shorter and shorter.

Diavolo wasn’t exactly faring much better; you could see in the way his eyes were clouded over, dark with lust and desire each time he looked to you. You knew the kind of thoughts that plagued his mind and couldn’t wait to see where it got you. It was all too much, you couldn’t take it anymore.

Your foot tapped his to try and beg for mercy, so you wouldn’t come undone in public like this. Unfortunately for you, you and your lover knew what the other signed up for. All he offers you is a patient smile and his hand to hold. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train as you bite into your lip to try and hold back the noises that would’ve brought so much attention on the two of you. It was only made worse with the man before you cranked that little ring up, bringing the vibe up to max. You squeezed onto the demon prince’s hand for dear life, hoping to all the gods out there that nobody notices.

The only noise that made it out was a tiny whine when the overstimulation of having the bullet against your sex began to be too much. Diavolo was quick to shut it off, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand as a silent praise. The waiter from earlier was quick to arrive and ask if you were alright. Thankfully for you, and your lack of words, your royal lover was quicker. 

“They’re alright, but I do think they’ve had enough of the public for one night.”

[leclsrc]

prompt 35 with Charles????

everyone adores you – cl16

genre: fluff, drabble, 1k celebration

35: an awkward kiss given after a first date. title from this

Charles loves the story of your first date. He tells it often, over wine nights with the drivers or Secret Santa exchanges with friends. Over a glass of red or a fake Santa beard, he quells the room and goes: “Did I ever tell you guys the story of our first date?” And although everyone groans and lets out a bunch of affirmative answers, still he meets your eye from across the room, where you’re nursing white wine, or wearing an elf hat, and you smile, winking.

“Okay then!” He hollers, miming a shush motion. “No need to pressure me! I’ll tell it.”

And everyone groans again, a collective sigh, because Charles loves to pull out his best theatrics for your love story, and it means sitting through another living room one man play. Alex pretends to stand and get up, and Lily sloshes her wine or tugs her Santa hat off in her hurry to pull him beside her, because she loves the story so much. Max groans and slides onto the floor, spilling his vino or shedding his ugly fleece sweater.

You’re always silent when Charles insists on telling it because, although you fully understand the sarcastic disappointment, you also know that everyone loves the story deep down, loves your boyfriend’s goofy antics. And his storytelling aside, you’ll admit: your first date was the stuff of films.

Set up by Lewis (who continues to claim it was his worst mistake during gatherings like these), you’d met in London, where you were based for work at the time. Charles arranged the whole thing himself, with the pride of a six-year-old with a messy drawing, and looked up the best restaurants in the area. You met him outside the expensive-looking restaurant, and—

“—she goes, ‘I hope you’re paying for everything!’ and I go, ‘of course I will!’” Charles says energetically, the whole room watching him with amusement. He slides back and forth on your wooden floor, playing both you and himself, and then when it reaches that point of the story, the snooty French restaurant host: “He goes, ‘how may I help you, zir and madmwasel?’ and I go, ‘oh, I called you the other day—to reserve a table for two. Under Leclerc.’”

You looked expectantly at the host’s finger sliding through the seating chart, flipping a page, sliding through another, and then looking up with an unsmiling face. His expression said it all, and you were getting ready to leave when Charles began arguing, insisting he really did reserve a table, maybe you just can’t spell, I called your number, here it is.

“And the French host, he says, ‘zir, zis is not our number. Our number endz in 5-4-0, not 5-0-4.’” Charles pauses for dramatic effect even if everybody knows what happens next, holding his arms up. “You might be wondering, where did I reserve that table?”

“Nobody is wondering,” Pierre quips, wearing a Christmas tree sweater. Yuki swats him quiet, wearing the exact same one. 

“It was in a chicken shop down the street. So we ate there, she and I,” Charles says dramatically. “And I kept thinking, oh oh oh I’ve fucked it up, yes? No!” (A bit.) “We ate chicken and chips, and had soda, and I learned everything about her. We were probably expecting to eat steak and beef and drink wine”—he raises a glass—“but we made do. And I don’t regret it. But that’s not all!”

It isn’t. Your night had ended in front of your flat, still laughing over anecdotes shared in-between bites of chips and sips of Coke. Work awaited the both of you, so you made a flimsy excuse to go inside and thanked him for bringing you home. But you didn’t walk inside yet, like you were waiting for something.

“Something like a signature Charles kiss,” your boyfriend says proudly. “But nothing was good about the kiss. I leaned and she didn’t, and we were both stiff, and unprepared.” Everyone has a window to laugh despite themselves, because the way he describes you both is so unlike how you are now. It’s so unbelievable, it’s silly. And even you allow a laugh, hiding behind your giant glass of wine or pulling the elf hat over your shy eyes.

You’d kissed, stiff and cold, and pulled away fully aware of the stiffness and coldness of the kiss. You had smiled to try and play off the stiff cold kiss that still lingered, and then opened the door to your flat and shut it. In your head, you wondered if your chemistry seemed good in the chicken shop and then ultimately wilted when it came to everything else.

“So I stood there.” Charles says, sipping wine, hand on hip, like a middle-aged mom. “And I thought, no way am I going to let that beautiful girl go home without a proper kiss! So…”

You were still leaning against the door, not even toeing off your shoes, when it rattled thrice. You swung it open, and allowed him to kiss you then. This time it felt right somehow. Not stiff, not cold, not awkward. Turns out, you just needed to not think about it, and it became the most memorable first kiss you’d ever had.

He finishes the story, panting with the intensity of his acting. Scattered clapping meets the finale and you whoop, throwing your hat or a throw pillow to serve as a congratulatory rose. You’ve grown to realize that Charles’ stories of wins, victories, overlaps—they never go like this. He’s quieter, less excited. But for the story of your first date, he pulls out all the stops.

You wonder what comes next. Charles, though: he wonders if you’ve noticed the indent of the ring box in his jeans pocket, an introduction to a story for another day.

[strawberryblue-blog]

Say that again. Part 2. —Mason Mount

warning: a little of angst, curses.

words: +3k

#sexynote: thank you sm for the support <3 More is coming soon ;) xoxo

8 months later.

Returning to London was a difficult decision to make. Especially when you had left everything behind, with thousands of doubts and uncertainty, not knowing what would happen.

It was no secret that what hurt you the most was leaving Mason, after that night of your goodbye, you never saw him again. And you could still feel your skin crawl at the memory of his confession and his wish for you not to leave. But it was your decision and you were as eager as anyone to leave England to start a new life in Norway.

Every day that passed, you were convinced that you had already forgotten Mason and after so many months, he would have forgotten you too. It was obvious that his was a whim, as it had always been.

The flight home was pretty smooth and quick, excited to see your friends again. Sophia would be waiting for you at the airport and the anxiousness made you shiver as you walked through the gate carrying your things, expecting to see your best friend on the other side and just as you imagined, there she was. You ran to her and grabbed her in a big hug when she opened her hands to receive you, wrapping you in a big, warm embrace.

"I missed you so much," she squealed happily, still turning in her embrace.

"Me too, darling" you kissed her cheek softly.

"What about me?" you heard someone's manly voice speak. Of course he had come. He never let his girlfriend go anywhere alone.

"Mr. Havertz"you greeted with a laugh, jumping into his arms.

"Hi, little bug" you whispered, slipping into his embrace. "I almost didn't recognize you".

"It's only been eight months, Kai," you tapped his shoulder gently.

"It's been a long time since you left, bug". You smiled a little, nodding.

"Well, we're leaving now," your friend took your hand, leading you to the exit. Her boyfriend snorted at having to be the one to take all your stuff, and don't lie, it was kind of funny.

You arrived at his house after a trip full of questions and answers from both of you, especially Sophia, who wanted to know everything about your trip and your new life. You were very excited to see your friends and your parents again, who you missed like nobody else.

"Tomorrow is the game, will you come," asked Kai when they were having dinner. "I'll see my parents," you said, denying. "Maybe I'll see you later"

Sophia gave you a glimpse of complicity. Kai didn't know what had happened with Mason, you never told him and you really hoped Mason hadn't told him anything. You knew Kai was protective, he wouldn't choose you or Mason, but putting the pressure on him to know what happened between you wasn't something you wanted for their relationship, as Kai and Mason were good friends and work colleagues.

After dinner, Kai went upstairs to take a shower while you and Sophia stayed after dinner, drinking a last glass of wine.

Your friend didn't broach the subject and you were grateful she was so empathetic to you because coming back home had already upset your stomach and talking about Mason would make everything worse.

So you stayed up late chatting, trying to hide the urge to ask about him that you had. You'd only seen a couple of news stories about the club and that he was dating a famous girl, but you never inquired because you didn't want to go back to your past.

(...)

The next morning you woke up and had breakfast with your friends, still talking about so many things that had happened since you had returned. You were waiting for your mother's message that she would pick you up, but after a while, you were still waiting.

"We're leaving now," Sophia announced from the door of your room.

"See you later," you waved. "Try to score a goal for me," you squealed to Kai when he stuck his head out.

"I will," he said proudly, making you smile. -See you later, right?

You nodded, raising your hand to dismiss him. You went back to lie in bed waiting for news from your mother, so after a while you decided to call him.

"Honey!" she squealed happily.

"Hi mom, I'm here waiting for you for lunch" you said quickly.

"Oh, honey" she said somewhat disappointed. "Your father had forgotten we had a golf game and I didn't let you know."

"Really, Mom?" you snorted.

"Honey, we talked on video call yesterday and you'll be staying for almost two months. We'll have time to catch up and cuddle a lot" I commented amused.

You smiled as you heard your father's call from afar.

"It's okay, Mom" you agreed. "Call me when they're done."

"Peter, honey, T/n on the phone!" she shrieked towards your father. "He's about to play, see you honey!"

You laughed with a laugh as you heard your dad say something to your mom that you couldn't understand. You really missed your parents and it was true, you still had a lot of time to catch up. Going back to London had really made your head a mess, full of nostalgia.

You snorted, dropping the phone as you stared at the ceiling. Now what would you do? You closed your eyes trying to think.

I need you. I've always liked you.

Mason's words echoed in your head and the memories of that day came back to your mind.

You brought your hand to your chest as your heart began to pound. Don't think so hard, your subconscious said.

And just as you thought, you got up and grabbed your bag quickly, heading out to the street. You called for a cab and it didn't take you long to get to the city party. The streets were decorated in that tone blue you liked so much, people walking in them wearing club shirts, you could even read a few with your name on them.

Everything was just as you remembered.

You called Sophia and told her what had happened, so she quickly came for you at the entrance of the stadium.

You didn't even know why you had come. You just wanted to feel again what you had felt a long time ago. Your ears filled with the chorus of the stands at full volume, while the screams could be heard for miles. Your skin crawled as your eyes focused on the field, trying to find the one person you had come for.

That's when your eyes found him.

Number 19 in the center of the field.

You sighed settling into your seat as Sophia's hand took yours squeezing it, as your friend could see how you were somewhat distant from the new feeling.

The match was quite intense for both, hopefully the match would end with a victory for the blues. Your eyes hadn't stopped following number 19 since you had arrived, trying to meet his gaze but you knew he wouldn't look at you. He didn't even know you were back in London, not even that you were in the same stadium as him.

When the referee blew the final whistle, you stood up from your place, ready to go to the car to wait for your friends. Among the people you tried to walk, when a premonition echoed in your chest. Out of the corner of your eye you turned your head slightly, meeting those eyes for the first time.

Those deep black eyes staring back at you from the center of the court, recognizing you in the crowd. Mason stood static for a few moments and though you did too, you lowered your head to keep walking. The heart in your chest was beginning to pound as the urge to cry came over you.

You ended up in the aisles of the stadium on the verge of tachycardia for remembering what had happened that night. His lips on yours, his words, his touch. You hadn't felt anything like that since you left and you were sure you'd never feel it again, but you couldn't let him win this fight.

The hustle and bustle of the crowd began to die down as you moved deeper into the corridors, you picked up the phone to call your friend, trying to find your way out, you had forgotten how to escape this place. A jolt to your body made you stop, someone else had bumped into you as you were trying to read the exit signs.

"I'm sorry" apologized the other person.

And suddenly, you stopped breathing.

There it was. The one person who was capable of taking your breath away. The person you were most afraid to meet. Was the universe against you?

Why didn't you stop, why didn't you apologize and act like a normal person, why didn't your body seem to connect with your mind, why didn't your body seem to connect with your mind?

"Y/n..." he whispered.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Slowly you began to turn around, seeing him standing there in front of you. He was still wearing his team outfit, his hair damp and his face somewhat exhausted.

He looked so gorgeous.

"Hello, Mason" you greeted simply. You waited for a response but he didn't say anything else, he just stood static as he had a few moments ago.

"I have to go, it was nice to see you again" you forced yourself to smile a little, masking the ache in your chest.

All this time you thought you were over him but deep in your heart you knew, you could never forget Mason. Every day that passed you tried to move on, but leaving him that night hadn't been easy. And seeing him again wasn't either.

You turned away from your spot again, starting to walk slowly away from Mason. You were surprised to hear nothing more from him.

Why wasn't he saying anything? Wasn't he going to stop you? Had he given up on love?

Had he given up on you? Your heart shattered.

Maybe Mason had forgotten you, maybe he had found that person. He didn't love you anymore. Maybe he never had.

You had come back just for him.

You wanted to stop lying to yourself and your friends or family. You had come back to London just for Mason.

You wanted him back. But you lost him.

You were tired of running away from him and you wanted to tell him everything... but it was too late. Mason had forgotten you.

He had moved on.

You quickly turned to see him and your eyes filled with tears as you saw his back receding down the hallway.

Now it was he who was running away from you.

"Mason!" you screamed at the top of your lungs.

Please stop. You wanted to scream for him.

A tear spilled down your cheek when he wouldn't stop.

"Stop, Mason!" you begged again. "Please"

And when you least expected it, he stopped.

Your steps were giant as you walked toward him, charged in courage and bravery.

You weren't going to run away again. Head held high and heart pounding, you weren't going to let him go.

You reached Mason in a matter of seconds, who still had his back turned but as you sensed behind him, he gently spun around. His face was uneasy, his gaze dull, a sad grimace in his expression

"You won't say anything?" you asked.

Mason lifted his shoulders dejectedly.

"All right, I'll do the talking."

You didn't mind standing in the middle of the hallway cause you had so much to say. You wouldn't stand another minute with so much on your chest.

"I'm sorry" you started. "I never wanted to leave, Mason. But I had to" you said sure. "I couldn't stay when I didn't know what I felt or wanted but I know I hurt you and maybe you hate me and that's okay."

You sighed to find more courage than you already had.

"I should have called or even said something but I didn't know if what you had said that night was true, we were drunk and you had always played with me, I was scared..."

You loved Mason. You love Mason. More then anyone.

You had realized that since you had run away from him that day. While you were taking the flight, when you met your new friends, when you went to your new college, even when you were with other men. You had always loved him.

"I love you, Mason" you confessed to his bright gaze. "I know it's late, but i don't want to leave without telling you."

The words had come like a song from your mouth and now you felt the emptiness in your chest. But the pain was still there.

Mason hadn't said a word other than to look at you with his lost gaze and droopy eyes.

It's okay. You thought holding back tears, you didn't want a show in the middle of the halls of state.

You deserve it. You thought again.

Determined, you turned to, this time, leave the place for good.

But you couldn't.

The gentle touch of his warm hand stopped you by the forearm and memories took you back to that night.

That night that had changed everything.

You even went ahead of him and desperately your lips impacted with his, joining us in a perfect kiss. His lips felt just as you had imagined a million times when you were far away.

Soft, warm and delicious like the first time you had kissed them.

His large hands settled on your waist pulling you as close to his body as possible while yours embraced his muscular back, squeezing it as you felt the comfort of being in his arms again.

The rhythm of the kiss had gained intensity as the minutes passed, your lips seeking no rest as they needed each other more and more after so long. It was as if their bodies had become glued together from the electricity that coursed through them in their reconciliation kiss.

"Say that again" you asked as he did that night. "Say you can't let me go, Mason and i won't leave" you begged in a whisper remembering his words.

"I can't let you go, Y/n" he said against your lips. His forehead resting against yours as his nose nuzzled yours.

Because you didn't plan on leaving again. You knew the moment you saw Mason Mount again, you couldn't leave him.

And you were sure that this time, you would stay by his side.

PD: 2:30 in the morning and here i am writing for you. I hope you enjoy it, thanks for your support!!!!!

More imagines are coming soon, stay tuned <3

[zukkacore]

Coupling a few different headcanons together and I don’t remember if divorce exists in ATLA or if Mai is Izumi’s mom but part of me does think it would be funny if Zuko invented divorce specifically for Mai’s sake & so with her alimony from her failmarriage she’s free to spend several years being roommates w Sokka while they go to the university in ba sing se except this is not so that she can be employable her goal is to rack up as many useless degrees as possible.

One of her and Sokka’s favorite pastimes is attending essentially university workshops for open “mic” nights for like spoken word and stuff. Sokka kinda enjoys the artistry, Mai just wants to not be bored so she approaches these evenings with more irony-poisoning than he does. Mai thinks it would be very funny to sign Sokka up when she thinks he isn’t looking but much to her chagrin he’s actually better at making up poetry on the fly than he is writing it (not that he’s bad he studies different forms for fun™ like he’s basically a lit minor, but he also over-edits bc he’s extremely self critical).

Sokka Is good at spoken word but not in the way where it’s like, the hard hitting unpacking trauma kind of slam poetry, Sokka has never unpacked a trauma in his life, but under pressure he’s good at striking the right balance of comedy and the tiniest bit of vulnerability and clever wordplay. (This is also why he’s not that good at poetry he sits down and Thinks about, especially when asked to write anything abt himself bc he finds it incredibly navel-gazing and embarrassing). Still, Mai continues to play this joke on him when he least expects it, mainly bc she loves committing to the bit. She eases up for a while bc he starts to suspect her too much only to spring the bit onto him again whenever someone comes to visit just for maximum embarrassment, either Toph, Katara, or Zuko. Toph thinks the whole thing is hilarious. Zuko and Katara both find poetry night deeply moving, but Katara finds Sokka specifically being forced to vamp deeply funny.

She’s tried it w Suki but suki doesn’t even flinch & Mai wonders if it’s bc she’s just that supportive or if she’s just not that discerning when it comes to art. The real answer is that she is plently amused and will tell Sokka in her own time but also Sokka has embarrassed himself in front of Suki enough times that she doesn’t blink an eye at anything. Aang also is not fazed but that’s mainly bc he 100% wants to get in on the fun.

In retaliation, Sokka has gotten Mai on stage before but bc mai would rather die than spout poetry her time always ends up basically being musings abt her life that’s pseudo-workshopping material for a Tight Five & like… it’s not really poetry but the crowd is laughing including the guy who throws ppl out when ppl don’t stick to the correct form (on those specific days). So nobody is going to stop her. She tells a lot of really dryly delivered jokes abt her shitty childhood and her failhusband Li from the tea shop and it takes a hot sec before ppl realize holy shit, she’s actually talking abt the fire lord. And also jokes abt discovering lesbianism. Which she’s thoroughly embarrassed abt being late to the party about. & even more embarrassing to be a dyke secretly love with her best friend. Afterwards, Sokka and Mai do have to correct the other patrons who approach them bc they’re convinced Sokka is the dyke she’s in love with. But they’re just friends. (I don’t know how mining comedy out of blatant dyke drama would work if we’re right to assume Sozin invent homophobia in ATLAverse but w/e).

Also. Sokka WILL boo & heckle her out loud when her material stinks. But if anything, this gives her a chance to do crowd-work which she’s good at. So even tho it’s 100% genuine ppl do start to suspect it’s staged.

I also think part of Mai racking up unemployable degrees includes assignments where she makes really off-putting and macabre interactive exhibits/art installations bc she’s trying to work on authentically expressing herself & wants to be an unpalatable as possible to make up for the years of being a perfect daughter. But she also thinks being too earnest is deeply cringe so even tho her pieces are self evidently kinda tortured and gloomy, as a way of preserving her dignity her artist statements are intentionally as brief and opaque as possible for the highest impact comedic punch.

[gretahayes]

for the ask game, timkonbart with 44 please?

44. “You’ve always felt like home.”

"I'm having a day," Bart says, phasing into being in Kon's bedroom.

Kon hums. He's sprawled on his bedroom floor in a position that doesn't look comfortable, but he either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Bart thinks he's maybe having a day too.

"Where's Rob?" Kon shrugs. "I want Rob." Bart frowns and disappears, then reappears with a confused Tim in his arms. "Hey Rob."

"Hi Bart," Tim says. He nods at Kon as Bart sets him down. "Hi, Kon. What's up?"

"I missed you," Bart says. He feels...unfocused. Unmoored, but not in the fun way that lets him time travel and hop through dimensions. In the way that makes him feel like he's fuzzy around the edges and if people stop looking at him, forget about him, he's gonna fade away forever and never be seen again. "I missed you," he repeats, because Tim can read between the lines.

Tim softens, catching the unsaid words in the way he always does. "Alright."

Bart feels a gentle, comforting weight, like a heavy blanket or strong hug, settle around him, and he feels more anchored. He shoots Kon a grateful look. "Thanks."

Kon wiggles his fingers in acknowledgement, and finally floats over to them. "Hi Rob."

"Hi Kon," Tim repeats. He looks between them, assessing, and Bart isn't sure what he sees but it must be really pitiful because he softens even more, in that worried way of his.

"Stop frowning," Kon says, and ironically, frowns. "We don't look that bad."

"You look like you'd benefit from a trip back home," Tim says. "Both of you."

"That's why I got you," Bart says. "You've always felt like home to me."

Tim pauses, and smiles in the awkward, hesitant way he does sometimes, when he doesn't know the right thing to say and figures not talking at all is probably the smartest choice. "Aww. Well. Thanks." Tim gets back to solving-problems-mode. "Bart, could you get us blankets and pillows for-"

A whoosh, and Bart's back with an his arms full of blankets and pillows. He assembles them into what he assumes Tim wants, a blanket fort-ish contraption on the floor. "What now?" He thinks he should know what now, but he feels slow and sluggish and has he mentioned he feels fuzzy? But not in the way he can't run, in the way his brain is slow, because he can run just fine. But if he can run, his brain should be fine too, because his speed's the reason his brain is the way it is-

Kon drops onto the blanket fort, and tugs the two of them with his TTK. Bart makes a surprised noise, but Tim looks like he'd been expecting it, and doesn't bother stopping himself from landing in a jumbled heap. Tim tugs and pushes and says something, and they rearrange limbs and torsos so nobody's being crushed, but the pressure is nice. Comforting. And they're intertwined enough that Bart doesn't have to worry about fading. They've got him.

He doesn't know how much time passes, but he feels less fuzzy by the time Kon moves for the first time. He twists a bit so he's face to face with Tim, and they stare at each other for a few seconds. Tim offers a smile.

Kon turns to look at Bart. He blinks, and Bart can't pinpoint what exactly it is, but something in his eyes looks clearer. More present. He smiles, and Bart smiles back. Kon turns to Tim, still smiling, and Tim laughs.

"You guys feeling better?" He asks, even though he already knows the answer to that.

Bart flops onto his stomach, ignoring now-verbal Kon's protests and planting a big fat kiss on Tim. He's aiming for just the general vicinity of Tm's face and is impressed with himself when he manages to land it on his cheek.

Tim laughs again, pushing his face away. "Germs, Bart, gross, did you even disinfect before sharing your extra-dimensional cooties—?"

(ask game)

[losersimonriley]

I want to ask about all of it but please,,, a crumb of sundowning 🙏

Camus I would post sundowning in its entirety right here right now if you asked me to 💘

Here’s a hospital scene mixed with a little flashback:

He clears his throat, fully doubting this will do anything, but willing to try anything.

“Johnny?”

It’s the first time he’s said the name aloud since–

Since.

“Johnny?” She asks, flipping through the chart. “He goes by Johnny? There wasn’t anything in here—”

“No. No, just…,” he trails off, not knowing how the fuck he’s supposed to finish that sentence without giving the impression that they’re something they’re not. He does go by Johnny but you can’t call him that. Nobody else can either actually, unless it’s me. Right then. Jesus Christ. It’s almost a more embarrassing scenario than when he wanted to tell the nurse aide to let him be the one to bathe him.

He remembers Soap warning Alejandro not to call him Johnny. It feels like a lifetime ago. He didn’t know it at the time but that was only the first of several incidents to come from the name.

Soap has completely pulverised their only source of intel. Ghost would be seething about it if he weren’t so turned on.

Soap hadn’t lost it until the rat-faced bastard taunted him with the nickname he’d overheard Ghost use.

“Call me that one more time, ye fuckin’ wankstain, swear I—”

Soap rears back to put a boot in the man’s face, but Ghost finally gains the sense to put a stop to it. He grips Soap by the collar and yanks.

“Simmer.”

It’s unbelievable how quick the raging fire dies down. All from a simple touch and command. He vaguely wonders what else his sergeant might do if he only gave the word.

“Sorry.”

“Mind tellin’ me what the actual fuck that was about?”

“He called me Johnny,” Soap mumbles, looking off to the side.

It reminds him of a child explaining to a parent why he got into a fight in the schoolyard. Similar to a child, the reason is because of name calling. And this one is just a normal bloody name.

“I call you Johnny.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the only one who can.”

He’s said that before—weeks ago in Mexico. Ghost still doesn’t understand it, hasn’t asked, too hesitant about throwing a wrench in this little friendship they’ve started to build. It’s been so long since he’s had a mate like Johnny. Never, actually.

But throw a wrench he must do now because when Price finds out about their prisoner…well. He needs answers. Ones that make even the slightest bit of sense to himself at the very least.

“Why?”

“Because it sounds sexy coming out of your mouth, sir.”

Insubordinate little—

“I don’t know, Ghost,” Johnny sighs, running a bloodied glove down his face. “Supposin’ the both of us need to figure that one out.”

“Just a name I use for him.”

It sounds weak even to his own ears. Heat gathers in his cheeks and he can only hope the mask is high enough to cover the blush. She gives a thoughtful hum before nodding at him to continue.

Why is this so humiliating?

“Johnny,” he says with a bite. “Eyes open for us.”

Nothing. The disappointment that floods his body shouldn’t be so sharp. He’d expected this, afterall. He flops back into his chair.

Emily presses her pen down against Soap’s fingernail with more and more pressure each passing second. Simon digs his own fingers into his kneecaps and Johnny doesn’t open his eyes. Just as expected.

What’s not fucking expected is Johnny’s arm suddenly jerking away from the pressure against his hand.

Ghost shoots up out of his chair once more.

[kazvha]

Stray cats

Summary: Feed stray kids with Jiwoo

Notes: not proofread

On a fateful day, as you were on your way to the convenience store to buy milk for your breakfast, you discovered two abandoned stray cats. They looked skinny and miserable and it didn't feel right to leave them like that. So you ended up feeding the cats every other morning.

"You two look so much better now, that's good." You rub the cat's bellies. They responded with content meowing, which made you smile. "Is someone else feeding you two cuties too? I remember seeing cans of cat food, that weren't from me though." You didn't expect an answer, but a voice behind you responded.

"Yes, I also feed the cats."

You turned around to see a brown-eyed blonde boy politely smile at you. Your eyes widened slightly. "Jiwoo? I didn't expect to see you here..." Jiwoo Seo was someone you knew from the awakened academy, but you never got around to having a proper conversation with him. You heard he was a cat lover, and you supposed it was true.

His hand shyly went up to his face to scratch his cheek. "I feed the cats every time on my morning run."

"Cool, I guess I'll often see you around then."

After this moment, you had many other encounters with him. Every time, you two would exchange some short greetings, but over time, random conversations started to develop. You both would talk about whatever came to your mind while petting the cats. Sometimes the cat Jiwoo communed with also kept you company.

This got to the point where you actually looked forward to meeting Jiwoo and you assumed he felt like this too because he invited you to feed some other stray cats together. That's when you actually found out that he had a whole route and he was dedicated enough to go through it every day.

One time, Jiwoo and you had to go to the convenience store to buy more cans of cat food. He got distracted by the toys very easily and you couldn't help but share this enthusiasm. Suddenly, a realization hit you and you stifled a chuckle. "This almost feels like a date."

Jiwoo flinched and turned his head to stare at you with widened eyes.

"You don't think so...?" Warmth rises up your cheeks and ears. You had to muster up a lot of courage to say these two sentences, but what if he didn't feel the same way as you? And you certainly didn't intend to pressure him.

After a lot of thinking, Jiwoo finally answered your question. "...I think so too." A rosy blush painted his cheeks and while avoiding your surprised gaze, he continued. "I actually have a lot of fun when I'm with you and I can share stuff nobody's usually interested in. I wouldn't mind getting to know you better. And to date you, of course." That last part was so quiet that you had to strain your ears and think twice about it. To make sure, that you didn't mishear, you asked him again.

"Are you- Are you asking me out right now?"

Jiwoo's eyes flickered to yours and he gave you an energetic nod together with a hopeful gaze. In response, your features softened.

"Okay then, let's go out."

[hopefilledramblings]

If my online friends find this blog without me telling them. I will cry (I say as I send this blog to all of them)

Anyway. I've been cooking up a little thing (partially based off of a roleplay). An au where Izuru and Hajime are separate people. The fun part is that Izuru still used to be a reserve course student, just a different one (that's basically an oc) who used to be friends with Hajime.

Izuru's past self was Masami Ishihara. They were nonbinary, sexuality is still undecided. They had dark hair that almost reached their shoulders, tan skin with freckles, and green and brown eyes in the form of sectoral heterochromia. They were a bit quieter than most people, but were lots of fun when they opened up. They had some darker humor and played occasional sneaky pranks, but nothing horrendous like making fun of tragedies. They also did a lot of arts and crafts, like bracelets, origami, pop-up art, and so on. They were rather artistic in general and could be seen making drawings in their notebooks, but they mostly stuck to crafts. However, Masami lacked patience. They were easily irritated, quickly becoming passive-aggressive. But usually, they can keep most of their anger contained and just make some rude or backhanded comments.

What they struggled with most was their self-esteem. Their parents were cruel. They wanted a golden child who did everything they said exactly as they said it with outstanding grades and achievements. But unfortunately, Masami never lived up to it. They were average, mundane, and normal. They weren't special, they weren't great, they were just a person. They were pushed to enter the reserve course program and attended the school under the impression that just being there would somehow make them better.

But it didn't. Not yet, anyway.

Sometime into the school year, the Steering Committee took note of Masami and Hajime's shared self hatred due to outside pressures. They were both offered to join the Izuru Kamukura/Hope Cultivation Project. They considered it for a while, but Masami was the one who agreed to it. They didn't know what to expect, but they were desperate to actually be worth something. Anything.

Out came Izuru Kamukura, known as a talented "enigma" that shouldn't be able to exist. Supposedly, they were born with all the talent in the world, blessed by the universe to be extraordinary. No matter what task they were given, they could complete it with ease.

People tried again and again to test their abilities, to see what they're capable of, but Izuru always denied it. They only followed orders from their teachers, and frankly, they didn't feel like being used by even more people.

On the other side of things, it seemed like Masami just disappeared off of the face of the earth, and no one cared. No one except the nobody known as Hajime Hinata. He's been putting up posters and searching everywhere for Masami, but to no avail. He's not going to give up, not anytime soon, but he's losing hope as the months go by.

That is, until he comes face to face with Izuru. It felt like deja vu, looking at something familiar but being unable to recognize why. They spoke briefly, and that feeling only got worse for Hajime. Izuru had similar speech patterns to Masami, but now they felt hollow, devoid of true meaning and purpose. Hajime couldn't piece together why they felt so familiar until later that night.

He couldn't sleep. The interaction was rattling in his brain like an animal in a cage. Then, he looked at a photo of Masami, and it clicked. That person... it was Masami. But how? Why? What happened to them? How come they couldn't recognize each other? There were so many questions, but so few answers.

He decided to reach out the next day, going towards the main course building when school let out. As soon as he saw Izuru, he rushed forward and confronted him. But... they didn't know what he was talking about. They had no idea who Masami was, but when looking at a picture of them... Izuru made the connection of well. That was them. Or at least, who they used to be.

That's all I've got so far, sorry. I want to write a fanfic about it, but I get bored very fast when there isn't constant action going on in my writing. If someone else wants to, please ask first, and keep me updated! I'd love to see what people do with this idea, so long as I'm given credit. Go through their friendship with Hajime, the programming trauma they went through after the lobotomy, the rediscovery of who they are, and beyond that! :)

Here's a drawing I made of them!

[malencholic-nyx]

All eldest desi kids!!! This one's for you...

THE FAMILY DRAMA

First of all, let me say that you are absolute legends... you've been through it all - the family drama, the cultural expectations, the pressure to be a perfect role model - and you're still standing. That's not easy, so give yourselves a pat on the back. Or a whole damn spa day, you deserve it...

EXPECTATIONS

Now, I know that being the eldest can be tough. You're expected to be responsible, mature, and have all the answers. But guess what? You're human. You're allowed to cry, to feel weak and lonely, to have flaws. That doesn't make you any less of a badass. In fact, it takes courage to admit your vulnerabilities and seek help when you need it... nd hey, speaking of help - some of you may be carrying around some heavy baggage. Maybe there are things that have hurt you deeply, things that nobody has ever apologized for. I want you to know that you are worthy of healing, even if the people who hurt you never acknowledged their wrongs. You deserve peace, happiness, and all the good things in life. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.. 🫂🫂

I know we desi folks love to please others. We want to make our parents proud, impress our relatives, be the perfect child/sibling/cousin/whatever,whatever.. But let me tell you something: your happiness matters too. You don't have to sacrifice your own dreams, passions, or well-being just to please others. You don't owe anyone that. So go ahead and be yourself. Do what makes you happy, even if it's unconventional. Don't let society's expectations hold you back.

— you are amazing, you are allowed to be happy, you deserve to heal, and you should prioritize your own happiness. And if anyone tries to bring you down, just channel your inner desi aunty and hit them with a witty comeback. You got this...

—tagging @hell-lit011019 @disproportionatelysculpting I know both of you who are just like me - the eldest daughters... so~

it looks like we're in good company as the "ELDEST DAUGHTER CLUB"! I guess that makes us the queens of the family, right? We should start wearing crowns and demanding royal treatment from everyone else. Just kidding (or am I?)!!!

[lynlyndoll]

It's okay to disappear until you feel like yourself again

genre: comfort, angst

wc: 0.5k

paring: boyfriend! felix x fem! reader

appearances and specifications: this was requested by 🍈 anon!! it has references to work depression, possible family/friends issues. in this fic, reader has problems in her life.

summary: your life is draining day by day, which makes you feel overwhelmed every time. however, your boyfriend realizes something is up with you and makes sure you feel safe.

an: sorry, 🍈 anon!! I have been so busy with exams that i couldn't do anything.. :( anyway, here it is!! your request!!

Your life has been a total mess. You were growing tired day by day by the pressure you felt from different people or occasions. "Y/n do that", "y/n go there", "y/n, that's not good". Everything replayed in your head for hours while you were on bed, headphones plugged in your phone, your spotify playlist being replayed over and over again. You've always felt like it wasn't your time. Always felt like you were nothing but a nobody. A nobody with dreams. A nobody that people expected to be a somebody, but that nobody just couldn't please everyone's wishes. That's how you felt. Like a nobody that would always listen to the same trashy comments addressed to them, telling them how useless they are, how they had to do more.

You grew tired of it. And your boyfriend knew it as well. Your boyfriend knew you very well. Afterall, he was your childhood bestfriend and grew up with you, listening to all of your fears and desires. He grew up with that person that would always be motivated because others expected things from her. But he saw how much these thoughts and words drained you day by day, making you suffer in silence. You never liked to vent, he knew it, but he always tried to find a way to make you talk, to make you feel better, happier and wanted. to make you feel safe.

"y/n.." he asks you, making you come back from your mind full of negative thoughts. You look at him, your puffy, red eyes making him look at you sadly.

"Mhm, yeah, lixie?" you say, trying to make your voice sound normal. However, your boyfriend knows that you cried, which makes his heart ache.

"You need a break." he says, making his way to you. He wraps his hands around you, your head pinned to his chest while hot streams of tears soak his white shirt.

"I am trying.." you whisper. "so fucking hard. Everyday..." little hiccups come from both of you. "it's harder, it's unbearable..." you sigh, wrapping your hands around his waist, holding him even closer.

"Then take a break. A break from the stress, y/nnie." he looks at you, your doe eyes already looking at him in a mix of shock and intrigue. "It's okay to disappear until you feel like yourself again, y/n. Just know i'll always be here for you, waiting for you. I know you too well to not figure out you haven't been yourself for a long time..." he sighs, removing a few strands off your face to see you better. You analyze him and his expression. He was serious, his face a little bit shiny from the tears he had before, together with you. You let out a small smile, another round of tears in the corner of your eyes.

"Thank you." you mutter. "Thank you for understanding me."

"I love you too much to not understand." he answers, kissing your forehead, both of you drifting off.

taglist!!

@agi-ppangx @lisaaassophhhieee @hyunjin-lover20

[misscrawfords]

Would a marriage between Bingley and Georgiana work?

Been thinking about this all evening and my answer has to be: yes! Chances are it would be very successful and happy.

Firstly, from a pragmatic point of view, it's very suitable. They are of the same social class and income bracket, they move in the same circles, their families are friends. Everyone would be rooting for them, nobody would be offended. They are also suitable ages for a positive connection. Yes, currently Georgiana is only 16 but in two years time she will be 18 and Bingley about 25. This is roughly the same age gap as Henry and Catherine in Northanger Abbey and probably similar to both Fanny and Edmund and Elinor and Edward and, for that matter, Wentworth and Anne the first time round. Darcy is unlikely to pressure his sister into making a match too early and while 16 year old Georgiana, shy and barely out in society might not be appealing to Bingley, 18 year old Georgiana with a year or so of social exposure and just a bit older probably could.

Then take into account personalities. Georgiana and Bingley are already close through Bingley and Darcy's friendship and Georgiana's friendship with Caroline. This might not be Georgiana's greatest relationship in her life but I don't expect she has many friends... She's been romantically traumatised by her experience with Wickham so feeling safe with a man and trusting him will probably be key in any relationship she forms. She would definitely feel that with Bingley and know he is someone her brother approves of. We also see from her liking of Elizabeth that, while quiet and reserved herself, she is drawn to lively, open characters (as Darcy is) and so the chances are that she would find Bingley attractive as a person as well as the fact that he is handsome. In fact, if Georgiana doesn't already have a little crush, I'd be surprised.

As for Bingley, we know he has a habit of falling for women easily. I expect Georgiana is too firmly in the "best friend's little sister, basically a child" camp for him to be interested in her during the time period of the novel but, again, there's no reason that he couldn't "see her differently" when she appears at a ball some time and friendly interest could become romantic over time, provided someone more shiny doesn't appear first. (Darcy's main worry!) Furthermore, Bingley's attraction and love of Jane also shows that he is drawn to gentle, quiet, reserved women who do not easily show their emotions to strangers. (... Wow, suddenly Jane is reminding me of someone! :P) So it is entirely possible that, provided he could get over knowing Georgiana too well when she is too young, he would be attracted to her personality.

And considering the nature of marriage at that time, alliances between connected families (even between cousins) who had known each other a long time was completely normal.

In short, yes, I think it could certainly work. Darcy and Caroline are not being foolish in hoping for the match.

[sluttyshima]

7 minutes

Warnings: suggestive content (making out, grinding) but no sex

Characters: Shihai Kuroiro x female reader

Words: ~1.6k

AN: repost of a request from my old account.

pspsps @leechlips​ remember this one?

The large, dimly lit closet seemed to brighten the moment that you walked in. Kuroiro’s heart began beating faster, just as it always did whenever he saw you. Your mere existence was enough to turn the normally confident man into a clumsy, stammering mess.

His eyes followed you as you made your way towards him, smiling. Honestly, he had never expected to fall for someone as bright as you. To him, you were the sun - warm and luminous in a world that was filled with far too much darkness. He had always been content in the darkness, comfortable even. It was where he felt safest. But you… for you, he would be willing to step out into the light.

Of course, that was nothing but a fantasy that he could only let himself indulge in for so long. Kuroiro was hopelessly in love with you. Hopeless, because he knew that there was no way that you could ever feel the same about him. There wasn’t a single person on this earth that could come close to deserving you, but there were certainly men who were closer than him.

Still, how could he move on from you when you were so sweet? You always greeted him with a smile and a kind word. You showed interest in his life and his well being, asking about his day or what he had done over the weekend. Even when he stumbled over his words, you were always willing to listen to him with rapt attention. Those moments fed into his daydreams, but eventually he had to wake up and realize that he was nothing special to you. He was just another one of your many friends.

The male was so caught up in admiring you, that he didn’t realize how intense his stare had become. When you asked if he was alright, he snapped out of his stupor. Suddenly feeling warm, he looked away. If his skin were lighter, he was sure that he would be blushing.

“We don’t have to do anything, you know,” you said, mistaking his reaction as mere nerves from the current situation that the two of you were in. “We can just sit here and wait until our seven minutes are up. There’s no pressure.”

Kuroiro wanted to kiss you. He wanted to tell you how absolutely beautiful you looked tonight. Wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you there, promising that he would never let you go. He wanted you to be his.

But you weren’t, and you never would be.

You were only here with him because you had drawn his name out of a bowl. It was a juvenile party game, seven minutes in heaven, one that your mutual friends had forced the both of you to play. It wasn’t like you had chosen to be here with him. Mere chance (and perhaps a bit of dumb luck) had brought the two of you together.

“I- I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He hated the way that he stumbled over his words. “I mean, I don’t want you to do anything just because you think I want to.”

Chewing your bottom lip, you searched his face, trying to figure out what he was thinking. “Well, was there something you wanted to do?” Before he can answer, you add, “Who knows, maybe it’s something that I would want to do.”

He would have thought that lying to you would get easier over the years. But here he was, suddenly struggling to come up with a falsity that would make any sense. Nobody in their right mind would turn down this chance with you… so why should he? This would probably be the only time he would ever have an opportunity to kiss you. For once, he wasn’t going to let the moment pass him by.

“I want to kiss you.” Kuroiro blurted out the words before he could second guess himself. Then, hastily, he added, “But only if you want to.”

You take a step closer to him, placing your hands on his shoulders. “Of course I want to kiss you,” you say. One hand trails up to his neck, your nails gently scratching at his hairline. “Why else do you think I would have set it up so that you and I would end up here together?”

When you had touched him, the man’s hands had automatically come to settle on your hips. But now he froze, letting his arms drop back to his sides. He looks pained as he manages to choke out a few strangled words, “That’s not funny.”

“It’s not meant to be,” you reply, confused. “Kuro, you do know that I’ve had a crush on you for like, a year, right? I thought that you liked me too, until you started avoiding me.”

He stares at you in disbelief. As the silence stretches out between the two of you, you begin to worry that his brain has completely stopped functioning. But just when you’re about to start pounding on the door, thinking that he might need some sort of medical attention, he speaks: “You really like me?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer, giggling nervously. “It’s not like I tried to hide it. Actually, I thought that I had made it pretty obvious. Literally everyone else knows.”

Even with your insistence, Kuroiro isn’t willing to get his hopes up just yet. “Look at yourself, and look at me - the contrast couldn’t be more obvious. You’re a beacon of warmth, exuding nothing but joy and positivity.” Gesturing to himself, he frowns. “Meanwhile, I am a silhouette lurking in the shadows. I would do nothing but cast a pall over your light.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe we would compliment each other well?” You reach for his hand, and he lets you take it. The silver rings that he wears are slightly cold against the warmth of his skin. “I like everything about you, especially the things that make you different from me.”

The last of his reservations begin to fade. He can tell that you’re being completely sincere. As unbelievable as it is to him, you really do like him, darkness and all.

With a slight tug on your hand, Kuroiro pulls you closer. His arm wraps securely around your waist while his thumb and index finger grasp your chin to turn your face towards him. “If you let me kiss you now, things will never be able to go back to the way they were before.”

“I know,” you say. “They’ll be better.”

He chuckles. “Always the optimistic one, aren’t you, love?” Before you can answer, he is leaning down to capture your mouth with his.

All traces of hesitance from before are gone. If there is anything that he is sure of, it’s that he wants this. Wants you. He kisses you with confidence, his lips moving against yours slowly as he savors your softness.

“How much time do you think we have left in here?” he murmurs against your lips, not wanting to break the kiss.

“Not enough,” you retort.

The two of you begin moving with more urgency now. You part your lips for him, an invitation that he readily accepts. His tongue wrestles with yours inside of your mouth, and he groans when you suck the wet muscle.

Kuroiro backs you against the wall of the closet, one hand slipping under the hem of your shirt to grasp the bare flesh of your hip while the other cradles the side of your neck. His knee slots between your legs, providing delicious friction to the area where you need it most. You grind against him, moaning into the kiss.

You flatten your palms against his back, pulling him as close to you as possible. When you tangle the fingers of one hand in his hair and tug, he growls. The sound goes straight to your core, causing you to buck against him.

To your disappointment, he pulls away, chest heaving with his labored breaths. You whine slightly at the loss of him, but he simply chuckles and pulls you into a hug. “You’re mine now, and there will be plenty of time for us to get to know each other more intimately later. But for now,” he leans his forehead against yours, eyes closed and smiling softly. “Just let me hold you. I need to feel you in my arms, so I know that this is real.”

His words cause you to soften in his embrace. You wrap your arms around his waist, and he straightens so that you can lean against his chest. After pressing his lips to your hair in a chaste kiss, he leans his chin on top of your head.

Time ceases to exist. You lose yourself in his warmth, his scent. Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you trail kisses along the exposed skin.

You pull back, however, when you feel him playing with the fingers of your right hand. Looking down, you watch in shock as he removes a ring from his pinky finger, slipping it onto yours instead. Lifting your hand to his lips, he kisses the spot right above the jewelry.

“Please don’t be alarmed, this isn’t meant to be anything so serious as a promise ring or something like that.” He appears sheepish, watching your face to gauge your reaction. “I simply wanted to give you something of mine to wear. You don’t have to wear it of course, if you don’t want to. I would understand-”

Standing on tiptoe, you silence him with a peck to the lips. “Of course I’ll wear it,” you promise, beaming up at him. “Thank you, Kuro.”

“Shihai,” he corrects you. “My girl calls me Shihai.”

His girl.

Finally.

[crownmemes]

Politician Sentences, Vol. 3

(Sentences from various sources for politicians and/or muses in political spaces. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"There's all sorts of gossip in the press about you."

"You look like you're carrying the weight of the world."

"You probably have the answer to this whole business already!"

"You realise, of course, that you're just staving off the inevitable?"

"I apologise for the subterfuge, but it seemed the most expedient way to get you here."

"Bureaucrats don't scare me."

"I am not a nice man. It is important that you understand that."

"My advice? Don't dwell on that man's petty deceptions."

"You are one of the best liars that I have ever met, and that's saying something."

"Well, I confess to being surprised that this has escaped my attention."

"I won't be made a scapegoat!"

"Are you meddling again?"

"You did exactly what I told you? Talked to nobody?"

"Your instructions were clear."

"If you continue to look into my affairs, and are extremely clever, you will find certain minor discrepancies."

"We're birds of a feather, you and I. Both patriots. Givers, not takers."

"Some people can handle the pressure, others fall by the wayside."

"What you are about to see is classified beyond top secret."

"This is the sort of invitation that one is obliged to accept."

"The number of people who need to be told about all this must be kept as small as possible."

"You're stretching yourself too thin."

"Since when was ambition an offence?"

"If you want to drag your feet on this, feel free. Just keep in mind, this investigation could be handled quietly, or it could show up on the evening news."

"I've kept my promise, now you keep yours."

"You are but an inconvenience."

"Have you ever thought about what 'enough' looks like for you?"

"Have you ever known me to be intimidated?"

"Despite my reputation, I really don't approve of collateral damage."

"Who's to say what's accurate and what's not?"

"How would you describe your influence over the Prime Minister?"

"No, no, no, I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time. Not with the elections so... Well, you don't need to know about that, do you?"

"How many times have I lied and covered for you?"

"You can't come in here, sir!"

"I don't expect you to trust me, but at least accept that we want the same thing."

"It's a non-disclosure agreement. I would like you to sign it."

"It's time for you to lead, not follow."

"I know many kings - quite a few princes too."

"May I ask your advice on something?"

"What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room."