#put an ungodly amount of effort into this one

[moonstruckme]

happy new year lovie!!!! i feel bad for requesting this bc just thinking ab the volume of ur inbox is a little overwhelming and ive gone a bit overboard 😭

but..... bodyguard!james finds out his mum is quite sick right before his shift one day and leaves to take care of her after letting reader know. he has to take the week off and reader is visiting and bringing them their favorite homecooked meals everyday (which she has memorised bc, bless him, james loves to talk abt his mum) and james is LOVEEESTRUCK. she's there, bright and early every morning (with a different bodyguard bc god forbid she leaves the house with no protection right in front of james' own two eyes!!!) with muffins and flowers and bags of food in hand :( james is enamored and so sweet on her!!!!! and reader is obsessing over how vulnerable and emotionally in tune james is at a time like this!!!!! i'm thinking maybe confessions are getting pretty hard to hold back by the end of the week ☹️🩷

thank you! (if you do decide to write this or if you dont for letting me ramble on in your asks x)

Don't feel bad my love! Thank you for requesting :)

cw: sick family member

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

No matter how many times James has visited home throughout his adult life, he always manages to discover something he’s forgotten about living there. Like how particular his mum is about the way the dish towel is folded, or which drawer the scissors are kept in, or the ungodly amount of door-to-door salesmen that come by on a daily basis. 

Lately, he’s being plagued by the last. He recalls them being vaguely annoying when he was younger, but James’ family is currently going through a difficult time that leaves one with somewhat frayed nerves. He very nearly snapped at a particularly tenacious primary school student selling chocolate yesterday. Not one of his finer moments. 

So when the doorbell rings while his mum is trying to sleep down the hall, James has to make an effort to reel his wrath back in before he’s even answered it. 

Funnily enough, any negative emotion completely evaporates when he sees you on the front steps. 

“Hi,” you say, looking apprehensive. 

“Hi,” James echoes. He opens the door the rest of the way, nodding to the fill-in guard you’ve brought with you. “Hey, Singh.”

Singh nods in return. 

“I hope it’s alright that I just came by.” You give him a sheepish sort of smile. “I didn’t even realize I don’t have your phone number until now. You’re always just…there.” 

James laughs, the mood that’s descended over him since getting the call about his mum lifting slightly. “Yeah, I suppose I am. What brings you out, sweetheart?” 

You hoist the bags you’re carrying a bit higher in your arms. “I brought some stuff for you and your mom, if that’s okay.” 

A tiny hand fists around his heart, squeezing pleasantly. “Course it is,” he all but coos. “Come on in. Singh, you alright to stay here and keep watch?” 

Luckily, the other man doesn’t think to remember that James is currently on leave, and so defers to him with a curt nod. James shoots him a smile as you come inside, closing the door behind you. 

“They put Singh on day shift?” he asks, taking one of the bags from you and leading you into the kitchen. “He’s barely finished training.” 

“He seems fine,” you say in your good-natured way. 

“He took you to a location that’s never been reconned without even bringing another guard to post outside.” 

“It’s your mom’s house, Jamie.” The smile is evident in your voice, sweeter even than the smell wafting out of these bags. God, he’s missed you. “I doubt he suspects either of you are going to try and hurt me.” 

“He should be prepared for the possibility,” James says, but he can’t manage to work any menace into his tone even to tease you. You tilt your head at him, mouth curving up to one side like you’re well acquainted with his particular brand of silliness, and he lets his grievances go instantly. “You didn’t have to bring us anything, angel face.” 

You flush a bit at the endearment, directing a soft smile down at his family’s old wooden table (which is great, because now James is in the position of being jealous of a table). “I wanted to do something,” you reply simply. “How’s your mom?” 

“She’s alright.” Not great. Not worse, which is always good. If the only thing he accomplishes in a day is that she doesn’t get worse, James can feel good about that. “She’s sleeping in this morning.” 

“Oh, shit.” Your voice drops to a hush like the breeze blowing through leaves. “I haven’t woken her, have I?” 

James grins. “No, you’re good. She can sleep through anything.” 

You lose a breath. “Right, well I brought some meals to last you a few days,” you say, digging some containers out of the bag. “It can all be heated up whenever you’re ready to eat, and—oh, also some flowers. I know it’s stupid, but I thought they might brighten things up for you two.” James doesn’t think it’s stupid at all, but you go on before he can tell you so. “Can I put these in your freezer? I brought some muffins for this morning too, if you want them.” 

“Yeah,” James says, the word leaving him on a breath. “I mean, yeah to both. Thank you.” He grabs several of the containers as well, showing you to the freezer. You both start cramming them in between things, wherever they’ll fit. He takes note of the food as it goes in, a heady warmth growing in his chest. “Did you make all of this?” 

You hum in brisk affirmation. “I had plenty of time on my hands yesterday. Turns out things are pretty boring without you around.” 

“How’d you know what to make? This is all—these are our favorites.” 

You turn to him, a tenderhearted sort of smile curving your lips. “You talk about your mom a lot, Jamie,” you say. “I know all her favorites by now. And the things she’d make that were your favorites, too.” 

James hadn’t realized he’d spent so much time rambling about his mum. It hurts his chest a bit to think of it now, worse to think that you’d been listening so intently. 

“This is only really enough to get you through a few days,” you go on, oblivious to his yearning, “but I figured I’d come back with more if you’re both alright with it.” You look at him as you pack the last of the food away, your gaze careful. “I don’t want to intrude or anything.” 

“You could never intrude.” James isn’t sure how he gets the words out, his heart ballooning until it’s nearly cutting off his airflow. The cool air breezing onto one side of his face stops, and he realizes you’ve shut the freezer. “This is just…so, so kind of you. I don’t know what to say.” 

“James.” Your voice is soft. Your smile has faded, and now you look at him with an unabashed, steady kindness. “You don’t have to say anything. I can’t stand the thought of you and your mom going through this. I wanted to help, somehow.” One of your shoulders comes up in a sheepish half-shrug. “Even if it’s really small.” 

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, and you hesitate only a second before bringing your arms around him too. You squeeze him tight. James lets himself relish the feel of it, lovelorn. “It’s not small,” he says fervently. “It really…it means a lot, sweetheart.” 

You only squeeze tighter in response. When he lets you go, your gaze is sad. Worried. You ask without prelude, “Are you doing okay?” 

James gives you a half-smile. The truth of it. “Yeah, we’re alright over here. It’s hard to see her like this, but I think everything’s going to be okay.” You nod, solemn in your understanding. “Sounds like I might be doing better than you, actually, if your company’s bad enough that you’re entertaining yourself in the kitchen all day.” 

You crack a smile at that, and James’ heart lightens. “Yeah, Singh’s no you. He doesn’t seem to like to chat.” 

“Ahh, so that’s why you’ve really come out here, yeah? You just missed me.” 

“You’ve caught me.” 

It’s said like a joke, but James’ pride inflates foolishly nonetheless. “I hate that I can’t be there,” he says. “Especially now that I know they’ve put Singh on my shift.” 

“He’s not so bad,” you laugh, heading towards the table. You fold up the bags. “Anyway, it’s more important that you’re here. And I’ll be back in a couple days to restock you.” 

James fixes you with a look as you start for the door. “You really don’t have to.” 

“I’m going to,” you say breezily. “Don’t forget to put the flowers in water, and the muffins are strawberry chocolate chip.” He grins. His mum’s favorite. “I’ll tell Singh you were raving about him.” 

“Oh, please do.” He rolls his eyes, feeling lighter than he has in days. “Thanks, angel.” 

You shoot him a smile worthy of the moniker as you go out the door. “See you in a couple days, Jamie.”

[gaylordscooter]

One Year of This So-Called Hell

It's been awhile since they've started living at the castle. They've grown used to it. They wouldn't call it their home or call each other their housemates, but they certainly thought of it like that.

However, despite how long they’ve been here, they still have yet to get acquainted with Nightmare. They were all casual with each other except with him. For obvious reasons, including but not limited to the fact he kidnapped them all and puts them through grueling situations from time to time.

Though, that latter reason has diminished over time. They didn't know if he was running out of ideas or what, because recently these situations have become akin to game nights. Quite literally they would play some board game or card game. It was kinda fun. None of them were going to complain though, even if they found it odd.

But today something especially odd happened. Not only was there a breakfast setup for them when they arrived at the kitchen this morning, Nightmare himself was at the table.

At first none of them said anything to him. Then Killer decided he couldn't stand the silence and said a good morning that was directed at everyone.

“Good morning, Killer,” Nightmare responded in a formal tone. He took a bite out of his pancakes. The three were watching him in disbelief as he chewed and swallowed. He looked up, taking note that none of them were making a move to sit down. “I hope the food isn't that bad. It took me a few tries to make something decent.”

“you cooked this?” Horror asked in surprise. He shot a skeptical look at the food. He's never messed with their food before, but he wouldn't be surprised if he started now.

“I made an effort to. There are no eggs as I couldn't extract the edible part without getting the casing mixed up in it.” He continued to eat, trying to show the food wasn't tampered with.

Killer shrugged and pulled out a chair to sit down a few chairs away from Nightmare. He grabbed a plate and a few pancakes. He quickly inspected the food before dousing it in an ungodly amount of syrup and began to eat.

Nightmare couldn't help but stare at Killer's soul as they ate, as weird as that was. He was transfixed by the shape. It was different, much more reminiscent of a proper monster soul rather than the usual target.

“hey, bud, my eyes are up here,” Killer said.

Nightmare's eye snapped up as if he was a child that was caught holding a knife. He noticed that Killer’s eye sockets, which were usually empty, had ringed eyelights at the moment, but usually he’d only have them when he was experiencing intense emotions—often negative. He didn't sense any negativity from him at the moment.

“whatcha lookin’ at?” he questioned despite knowing the answer.

Nightmare felt the other two’s tension and wariness. “Your soul's different,” he noted.

Killer’s posture relaxed a little. “oh, yeah. it's been that way for a bit.” He glanced at the other two, silently pleading them to stop standing in place awkwardly and to actually join them at the table.

Fortunately, Horror read his mind and made a move to sit down, prompting Dust to as well.

“May I ask what it means for it to look that way?” Nightmare implored.

Killer seemed taken aback by the question. His smile went crooked, at least more than usual and he slouched as if to cover his soul with the table. “am i allowed to say ‘no’? you kinda already asked.”

“You need not answer,” he responded. He dropped the topic; the question made Killer uncomfortable and he would rather not drive him away.

Dust and Horror were finally beginning to eat. Nightmare was almost worried they’d never start.

“i’ll tell you if you answer two of my questions,” Killer eventually said, to his surprise.

Of course he’d turn this into a bargain. “Ask away.”

He noticed that piqued Dust and Horror's interest.

“what’s up with the breakfast? you've never done this before.” Killer said.

“I can be nice, once in a while.”

Killer scoffed, rolling his eyelights.

“And it's a special occasion. It's been a year since I first brought you all here,” he added. He debated doing something like this in the first place. His relationship with these three was unusual. He was their tormentor; their personalized hell. At the very same time, he was their provider, in a way. He’d bring them food, water and shelter, things normally a parental figure would do—even though he was everything but that.

Horror laughed dryly, “how nice, a breakfast to celebrate a whole year after you kidnapped us to treat us like your toys.”

However, as far as he knew, he was nothing but a demon and that was exactly how they saw him.

His brother was an angel, and he was a demon. That's just how things were.

“second question, why haven't you ever messed with our food?”

Horror’s expression soured as he glared at Killer like it was a warning.

“it'd be pretty effective torture, right?” He continued to eat despite the topic at hand.

“It’d be effective,” he agreed, “but only once. Afterwards, Horror would be too far gone to do anything with.”

Horror dropped the fork he was holding with a clatter. His smile was tense and nearly a straight line.

“you’d still have me and dust, though,” Killer said.

“you little shit—”

Killer turned his head to Horror revealing his serious expression to him to silently tell him, no, he's not giving him ideas. He's trying to get information.

“Killing or irreparably harming any of you would be a major inconvenience, that is why.”

Killer stood up and leaned towards Nightmare, putting his hands on the table. “you said we were easily replaceable,” he remarked.

“I said there were many like you, not that you were easily replaceable,” he corrected. He didn't like where this conversation was going. “I answered your questions, now answer mine.”

“fine,” Killer huffed, sitting back down and crossing his arms. “i don’t know,” he said.

“What?” Nightmare said in a low rumble. Was he tricked? He didn't take kindly to the notion that Killer was going back on their deal. His tentacles flicked irritably.

Horror, noticing the ends of them sharpening, decided to speak up, “he doesn't. at least, he doesn't know what causes it.”

His tentacles relaxed, no longer threatening to lash out at Killer. “Do you feel any different?”

Shouldn't he already know that?

“oh he sure feels different,” Horror said.

Killer shrunk in on himself, trying to look invisible. Embarrassment. Shame? Guilt.

Why was it suddenly harder to discern his emotions?

“I want to hear it from him.” His eye bore into Killer.

Killer groaned, bordering on a growl, “you’re telling me you haven't felt a difference? actually, i’m surprised you’ve kept me around before, considering i didn’t feel anything.”

Nightmare's eye widened.

He didn't feel anything before? That wasn't right. He could sense his emotions the whole time. That's how he found him in the first place. As far as he knew, he wasn't like Ink either. It was very clear he had a soul.

“You did feel before. That's how I found you,” he insisted.

Killer narrowed his sockets. Anger. “i was only acting, until recently. none of it was real.”

He could feel bitterness coming from Dust.

Killer frowned, risking a glance at Dust. “but it is now,” and it’s terrifying, “and it’s weird.”

“How long has it been like this?” He knew Killer was getting annoyed at all the questions but he couldn't just drop it now. He didn't care if he was getting annoyed.

Killer had the audacity to stand up.

“Sit back down,” he ordered.

“i don't need to answer you. i don't need to follow your orders. i'm not your pet,” he spat as he roughly pushed his chair in, making the table jolt.

“You aren’t,” he sighed as Killer stormed off. His eye darted to Dust and Horror. They hardly ate anything.

“it’s been fluctuating ever since we got here,” Horror said once Killer left. “but recently it's been staying that shape.”

Nightmare was surprised at Horror’s willingness to share that information. “I’ve been sensing fear from him recently.” It didn't take a genius to find out that it was connected. “But there's also been positive emotions—coming from all of you, actually.”

Horror scoffed in a way that sounded like a laugh, “call that stockholm syndrome.”

He did not know what “stockholm syndrome” was, but from his knowledge he knew that the word “syndrome” had negative connotations. Did he inflict a disease of some kind on them without knowing?

He stood up, picking up his plate with one of his tentacles that stretched over to the sink to place it down. “I will be taking my leave now. Thank you for humoring me.” His body melted into the shadows and he was gone.

Horror shook his head, “what a weirdo.” He put a few more pancakes on his plate and resumed eating.

Dust refrained from eating, merely picking bits from his pancake and dropping it back down on the plate.

“so…how are things between you and killer?” he dared to ask. It's been about a week since they had that fight. The two were avoiding each other. Well, Dust was obviously avoiding him. Killer just made no attempt to approach him—at least to his knowledge. This led to Killer spending more time with Horror, and honestly, he has no clue how Dust has tolerated this guy for so long.

Dust made a guttural noise that was basically a growl.

Though it was a clear show of his discontent, Horror couldn't stifle a chuckle.

That only exacerbated Dust’s sour mood. He stood up.

“hey, wait,” Horror said. “you hardly ate anything.”

“not hungry,” he signed.

Horror looked unconvinced. “that's bullshit and you know it.”

Dust sighed and picked up his plate.

“c’mon dude, don't go wallowing in your room.”

“don't play therapist,” Dust muttered.

“someone in this castle needs to stay level-headed. you didn't answer my question.”

“what do you think?”

“i think…that killer’s an asshole and you're right to be pissy, but you two should probably talk,” he suggested. He gave him a serious look, “he's driving me insane, dust.”

“it's all he’s good at,” he said bitterly.

“c’mon now, that's not true.”

Dust didn't even have to say anything.

“ehhh. we still care about him anyway,” Horror said.

Dust was mad that he couldn't refute that without lying.

Nightmare found Killer outside in the forest, he was nearby a make-shift shelter he made for the stray cats that lived here. It took him an embarrassingly long time to find him because he wasn't in the castle, but him being outside for once was a welcome change. Since he wasn't holed up in his room it meant Nightmare didn't have to worry about intruding on his private quarters.

Killer loudly groaned when he noticed Nightmare. He ignored him and continued to watch and pet the cats.

Nightmare remembered how terrified Killer was when he saw him hanging out with a bunch of cats. He thought he would harm them—he was so sure that he instigated a fight to protect them. Once that was resolved, he started going outside much more often just to see the cats. He was still tense whenever Nightmare was near them, however.

“Have you named them yet?” Nightmare asked.

“what’s it to ya? waiting for me to be more attached to them so you can rip them away from me when the time’s right?” Killer snapped. He didn't take his eye off the cats.

There were six of them, each of them having various colors and patterns. He was surprised Killer could take care of that many, considering he couldn't take care of himself.

Nightmare hummed thoughtfully, eye skimming over the group of cats. “I was merely curious, usually people name things they look after.”

Killer scoffed, “you named dust and horror.” The brown cat rubbed its head against his outstretched hand.

“Yes.”

“you don't ‘look after’ them.” He gently scratched the chin of the cat. It was purring.

“Depends on how you define ‘look after’. I definitely monitor them.”

“no shit,” he snarked.

“i also supply food, water and shelter.”

Killer frowned and stood up. The cats meowed in protest. He faced Nightmare. “what are you getting at?”

“You see me as needlessly cruel, as if I’m incapable of doing kind things,” he replied.

Killer laughed forcefully. It startled the cats, making them retreat to their shelter. “what? suddenly feeling like you deserve sympathy? i don't give a shit if you do kind things. that doesn't change the fact that you tortured us.”

Surely none of it was worse than their situations in their old universes.

“Right. Forgive me for digressing, but what, pray tell, is ‘stockholm syndrome’?”

It seemed like Killer found that question humorous. “you trying to do that to us? is that what your deal is?”

Frankly, Nightmare had no idea what Killer was talking about.

“you start being all nice and dandy to make us think ‘oh he's not all bad. i actually enjoy being here’.”

“You do,” Nightmare pointed out, “enjoy being here, I mean.” He could sense that clearly.

“fuck off. you don't know that for sure,” he said bitterly.

He couldn't deny the utter contempt Killer held for him.

He dipped his head. “I apologize.”

“you what?” Killer said incredulously.

Why was he apologizing? He was deceiving him. He had to be.

Nightmare didn't know what he was doing. He's hardly bothered to show remorse. There wasn't any reason to start now. Except, after seeing the companionship between the three, he couldn't help but feel jealous.

He wanted connection. It was pathetic to admit, but the only person he was close to was his brother. Was.

How cruel of the multiverse to allow him to yearn for something he wasn't allowed to have. He couldn't help but try to get what he wanted.

“For choosing you three to inflict pain upon, I apologize. You don't deserve it yet I do it anyway.”

“i don't deserve it?” Killer said. “hah! who the hell am i talking to right now? you really nightmare?” He strode closer to Nightmare and thrust a finger at him, poking him in the chest.

Nightmare was shocked by the sudden contact.

“y’know, you and me are pretty similar in some aspects. we don’t have the capacity to care and yet we're pretending we can anyway. you can't fool me. i know you're just trying to manipulate me with that apology.”

Nightmare took a minute to respond, scanning over Killer’s feelings and expression. Again, he was hard to read, like he was able to obscure it. He wasn't trying to manipulate him. He really wasn't. But he supposed he hasn't been upfront enough with him to believe that. “Do you recall when we encountered Fresh for the first time?”

Killer snarked, “what about it?”

“I could've left you, you said.”

“you didn't save us out of compassion, you just needed us for your stupid plans or whatever.”

“But you thought you were replaceable. Which one is it?” he countered.

“it's whatever's most beneficial to you,” he retorted. “you said it would’ve been a hassle.”

He did say that. Nightmare was stumped. He didn't even know where he was trying to go with this. It wasn't like he could make Killer’s hatred towards him disappear.

Maybe he could make Killer’s self hatred go away.

Why did he think that? Did he want that? That wouldn't benefit him.

Maybe he was sick of the feeling of hatred, like loneliness. Like being sick of having the same food over and over again.

He felt something down by his tentacles. He tried to hide his surprise but he hastily looked down to see one of the cats nudging against one of his tentacles. It was the brown one that cuddled Killer a moment ago. Nightmare froze.

“hey!” Killer barked and knelt down to shoo the cat away from Nightmare. “baked beans, i told you not to get near him,” he scolded the cat.

The cat meowed out a whine.

Killer frowned and stood back up as the cat walked away.

“‘Baked beans’?” Nightmare echoed. “Is that its name?”

“don’t hurt her.”

“You are awfully insistent that I’m going to hurt these cats. Has anyone told you about self fulfilling prophecies?”

Killer decided to take that as a threat and drew out his knife.

Nightmare made an attempt to seem less threatening, having all of his non-essential tentacles tucked away. “I’m not going to hurt them, Killer.”

“you're lying!” he shouted and pointed his knife at him. “i’ve seen it happen. you're going to do it, i know it! you're just trying to get my guard down.”

He’s seen it happen?

“Are you having nightmares, Killer?”

He didn't answer.

He couldn't reason with him now, he supposed. Nightmare decided the best course of action was to simply leave. He sunk into the ground.

Killer frantically scanned the area, taking a few minutes until he confirmed that Nightmare did indeed leave. He knelt down, curling in on himself as he sighed. The cats walked back over to him.

Nightmare reappeared in the kitchen, startling the two skeletons that were currently on the couch of the other half of the room.

Usually they wouldn't be startled at his appearance. At least, not anymore. He caught sight of the drinks in their hands, they seemed to be similar. He scrunched his eye in disgust. “What the hell is that?”

They were surprised at his language. Usually he didn't express surprise like that, or at all. Dust and Horror looked at each other as if neither had an answer.

Instead of verbally answering, Dust thrust the drink out. Was he offering it to him?

Nightmare got closer to inspect it. When he reached out to grab it, he saw the two’s sockets widen. He brought it up to his face, the goop covering his mouth melted away as he took a sip.

Oh god. That was awful.

He refrained from spitting it out and managed to brute-force his way into swallowing. A whole shiver rippled throughout his body, and it didn't help that it literally made the goo on his body ripple for a bit.

Horror and Dust remained painfully silent.

Nightmare calmly handed the glass back to Dust. “It's horrible,” he deadpanned.

“he was just trying to show you it, not…” Horror didn't even have to finish his sentence.

Oh great, he misunderstood. He didn't even have to drink that. It was painfully obvious he was embarrassed, even after he covered his mouth once more. “Why do you drink such awful concoctions?”

Dust shrugged, wiping the rim of the glass with his gloves before resuming the consumption of that horrific beverage.

Nightmare refrained from showing his disgust. He moved over to one of the chairs near the couch to sit down. All of his tentacles disappeared, revealing the rest of his cloak that covered most of his legs.

Dust spat his drink out while Horror gawked.

Nightmare flinched, “What?”

Dust gestured at the lower half of his body.

“you have legs!” Horror exclaimed.

“Of course I have legs!? I’m a skeleton like you two.”

“you’re a skeleton?”

Nightmare realized how little they knew about him. “What did you think I was?”

Horror scrunched his face, unsure how to answer. “not…a skeleton?? what's up with all the slime then?”

“I suppose you could call it melted parts of my own body fused with a surplus of magic. Would you care to see how I look without the ‘slime’?”

Horror was very confused at his willingness to be open about this. Which was fair. From their point of view, all of this was coming from nowhere.

Dust, however, immediately signed “yes.” It seemed like his curiosity trumped his confusion.

“Alright,” he said. He focused, shifting his energy into one concentrated point: his forehead. The usual glowing cyan crescent moon on his forehead grew into a full moon as the goop on his body disappeared, revealing white bones with a blue tint to them underneath.

The silence that came after was deafening. The way Horror and Dust looked at him felt different. It was like they saw him as a different person like this.

Sure he was less menacing in this form, but he didn't think he looked that different.

He did. He totally did. He was even smaller like this. He was probably shorter than the two if he were to stand.

“you look so young…” Horror said.

He didn't like the tone of his voice. Maybe this was a mistake.

He quickly changed back to his usual form. The dark goo flowed out from the moon like a waterfall until his whole body was coated in it once again. He immediately felt more comfortable. He decided he was never going to do that again. “As I said, I’m a skeleton like you two.”

“you’ve mentioned you had a brother, does that mean—”

“My brother is not a Papyrus, no. He looks just like me. I did not have a world like yours nor was I ever like you. In fact, I did not even have a world.”

Horror blinked at the onslaught of information. He just learned more about him than he ever has the entire year. “you're pretty chatty today.” About yourself, he meant.

“I suppose it's the torture for today.”

“torture for us or for you?”

At this point, what was the difference? Nightmare thought, but it went unsaid.

Once Dust finished his drink, he got up to put the glass in the sink. When he tried to go to the hallway, Nightmare opened a portal underneath him to get him back on the couch. He glared at Nightmare in protest.

“Dust, I know you and Killer are having some…complications right now,” he said, completely changing the subject. “Although it's provided plenty of energy for me, you two can't avoid each other forever.”

“but wouldn't that benefit you?” Horror questioned.

“I’m not going to risk Dust killing him out of anger.” That wasn't even an exaggeration considering their game of Monopoly the other day. He had to physically wrench them apart when Killer made him bankrupt. “Go make up with each other.” He summoned a portal underneath Dust, sending him to the forest where Killer was.

Dust managed to land on his feet, luckily. He didn't want to fall on his face right in front of Killer to give him something to laugh about.

Killer damn near screamed at his sudden appearance, but he played it off by coughing into his hand when he realized it was just him. Now all the cats around him were skittering about frantically. “miss me that much you had to drop by?”

Dust was completely unfazed by his pun, leaving Killer to awkwardly laugh at his own joke.

“‘m pretty proud of that one,” he mumbled as if to voice disappointment.

Of course he was proud, it was a miracle whenever he could think of a pun on the spot. It was something he was oddly insecure about, not being able to come up with jokes that well.

Dust supposed it was a reminder that he was hardly “Sans” anymore. It seemed like such a small thing until you thought about it. Dust knew he’d use humor to cope or to cheer people up. It was second nature, a skill polished throughout his life, even. To suddenly lose that ability…he wondered if Killer looks at his past self and sees a stranger.

“you just gonna stand there and stare at me like i stabbed your soul?”

While he wasn't skillful at punning, he sure was great at handcrafting every sentence he says to annoy him.

Killer’s cheerful facade dropped, “seriously, are you? i’m having a moment with the cats.”

Is that what he's been replaced with? Cats?

Even though Nightmare ordered him to make up with him, he really didn't feel like talking at the moment.

He wondered what Killer would do if he just continued to stand here in silence. Knowing Killer, he won’t be able to just ignore him.

Yet he turned around to face the cats. He knelt down to pick one up—the one with a pure brown coat—that one was his favorite. He named it something stupid but Dust couldn't remember it off the top of his head at the moment.

He just kinda held the cat for a little while, petting it in silence.

And then after a bit he stopped. The cat whined at this and hopped out of his arms.

He sighed. “i…i’m sorry, okay?” he finally said.

Pathetic, he couldn't even face him when he said it.

“i shouldn't have messed with you like that. i thought you were playing along. i forgot that…i refused to believe you really did care about me and it took you stabbing my soul to get me to realize.”

He had to pause as his breath shuddered, probably trying to keep himself composed. He still hasn't turned around or stood up for that matter.

“i don't know if i can care about you back. i care now, but,” his voice wavered, “you’ve seen how unstable my soul is. at any moment it’ll just snap back to the same old shape of a target and then boom, nothing! a pillow could care about you more than me.”

“i think all i’d do is hurt you,” Killer said. He turned his head to look at him, “you wouldn't want that, would y—woah,” only to see Dust right in front of him, crouched down to be at eye level.

Killer raised a brow bone, having zero clue where this was going.

Dust put a hand on his own chest and then gently brought out his soul.

Killer’s eyes blew wide open.

It was odd, seeing a normal monster soul for the first time in awhile. Well, it wasn't entirely normal. It was pale white, covered in cracks, and an unusual dim glow of red outlined the edges. He could guess where that came from and it wasn't LV.

Before he could ask what his deal was, Dust spoke, “get your knife.”

Oh, HELL no.

His own soul (metaphorically) jumped out of his body at the instruction. He immediately knew where this was going and he did not like it.

“no!” Killer objected. “the hell’s gotten into you? i’d kill you!”

Dust looked as calm as ever. “you're scared,” he noted.

“of course i…” Killer furrowed his brow bones. “you’re trying to prove a point aren't you?”

He saw Dust’s smile curl up. Bastard.

He held his soul out to him as if it wasn’t the culmination of his being. “hold it,” he said.

Killer stared at it, dumbfounded. “i’m not gonna—”

“forget the knife. hold it,” he repeated, apparently switching his approach to this.

Killer shakily held a hand out, allowing Dust to place his soul in it.

He dare not move, as if it was a motion sensor bomb. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop himself from trembling.

He shifted his gaze from the soul to Dust’s eyelights, unsure of which one to look at.

i could kill him. all i’d have to do is squeeze my hand shut. it’d be so easy. would it pop?

He didn't want that. God, he didn't want that at all.

“you're not going to kill me,” Dust stated like he was so sure of himself.

“i could.”

“do you want to?”

“god no.”

“and my soul’s still fine,” Dust remarked.

“what the fuck are we doing, dust?” Killer asked, looking at the soul in his hand in disbelief.

“i dunno, trust exercise?” he offered as an answer.

“pretty intense trust exercise,” he chuckled half-heartedly in an attempt to ease his tension.

“and stabbing your soul wasn't?”

“i wouldn't call a murder attempt a ‘trust exercise’.”

“you know i didn't want to kill you,” he reminded.

“right. you want your soul back now?”

Dust gave a nod.

Killer carefully handed his soul back to him. A moment later it was back in his rib cage.

He let out a sigh of relief, keeping his gaze on Dust to ensure that he hadn't become his namesake. “we chill?”

Dust smirked. “we chill.”

A portal to the kitchen opened near Killer and Dust immediately after.

They could see Nightmare and Horror sitting on the couch looking right at them. Nightmare was slowly clapping in a mocking manner.

“were you two watching the whole fucking time?!” Killer barked. He threw his hood over his head to cover his blushing face.

“Not the most conventional way I’ve seen two people make up,” Nightmare remarked. “It was certainly interesting to watch.”

“my life's not a goddamn sitcom, asshole!”

Nightmare guffawed. He was fucking with him and it was absolutely working.

Killer crossed his arms and pouted. He gave Dust a “can you believe this guy?” look.

Nightmare’s laughing ceased suddenly, “Hurry up and get inside. I have something to give you three.”

“oh, goody, is it a bomb?” Killer asked sarcastically. Despite his sass, he stepped through the portal alongside Dust.

“No, actually.”

A portal opened on the ceiling between Nightmare, Horror and them.

A shopping cart with a huge pile of clothes on it crashed down onto the floor.

It took Killer a second to realize those were the same clothes they left that time they went shopping, when they first encountered Fresh. He reached down to pick up one of the articles of clothing, they were still in fairly good shape. “how the fuck?”

“That is Killer’s gift, of course.” He looked at Dust. A wrapped present appeared in his hands. “As for you, I wasn't quite sure what would be appropriate for you.”

Dust cautiously took the present.

“how come he gets his gift all fancifully wrapped?” Killer complained. He was currently trying to get all the clothes back in the shopping cart. Alas, the pile he made the first time was a one-time feat.

“Because he's less annoying.”

Dust tore the wrapping paper and opened the box that was inside. He looked at the contents inside blankly.

“what is it?” Killer questioned.

Dust reached inside to take it out and show them.

Killer and Horror’s sockets widened as that familiar red-orange came into view.

It was Papyrus’s cape.

Nightmare was unsure what reaction this gift would get. He's seen other Sanses from Dusttale universes wearing it. It supposedly had sentimental value.

It seemed that Dust was also unsure how to react. There were conflicting emotions, Nightmare knew that much.

He carefully put the cape back in the box and signed a “thank you”.

“As for you, Horror,” He held out what appeared to be a rock at first.

Horror inspected it, realizing it was a phone—his phone. He was irked by the idea of Nightmare going to his home universe just to grab this. At least, he hoped he didn't do anything but grab this.

However, the phone might as well have been a rock. He doubted Nightmare knew the phone wouldn't even work. The thing hasn't been charged in years.

And then it caught him off guard by ringing. He flipped it open, seeing the words on the screen indicate that the call was coming from his brother.

He tried to stop his hopes from getting up. He reminded himself this could be a prank call and it wasn't his brother at all.

“Go on, answer it,” Nightmare urged.

This had to be a prank. Papyrus’s phone wouldn't be able to work there was no power—and even then he was in a completely different universe.

He answered the phone.

“SANS!” Papyrus’s voice immediately rang out. “FINALLY, I THOUGHT YOU’D NEVER ANSWER! YOU’RE ALIVE! OH MY GOD YOU’RE ACTUALLY ALIVE!” He sounded on the verge of tears.

“bro?”

“YES, SANS?”

“just checking that it's actually you and not a prerecorded message,” Horror managed to say. The smile on his face grew as it became genuine. He saw Dust and Killer watching him in his peripheral vision.

“I COULD SAY THE SAME THING. I WASN’T SURE THIS WOULD EVEN WORK!”

“how are you calling right now? was the core fixed?” he dared to ask.

“OH. UH, NO. ABOUT THAT…” Papyrus trailed off going quiet for a minute.

“what happened?” His grin faltered slightly.

“DO NOT FREAK OUT.”

“you're gonna make me freak out if you don't tell me what happened.”

“OUR WORLD WAS KINDA DESTROYED, BADLY.”

Horror’s eye socket went blank. “what?!” he shouted.

Papyrus was quick to clarify, “BUT I’M DOING FINE! ACTUALLY, WE RELOCATED TO A MUCH MORE HOSPITABLE PLACE! SURE OUR HOUSE AND THE ENTIRETY OF SNOWDIN IS COMPLETELY GONE FOREVER BUT THERE’S FOOD HERE AND MAGIC AND I CAN CALL YOU! SPEAKING OF WHICH—WHERE IN THE WORLD HAVE YOU BEEN!?”

Horror sighed in relief. He glanced at Nightmare, who looked eerily indifferent to all of this, before he answered his question. “i kinda got kidnapped by an otherworldly entity, sorry bro.”

“YOU AND YOUR WEIRD HOBBIES, WARN ME NEXT TIME. I THOUGHT YOU DIED. THE ENTIRETY OF SNOWDIN DESCENDED INTO ABSOLUTE CHAOS WITH YOU GONE—ALSO THE WORLD-DESTROYING THINGY PROBABLY PLAYED A ROLE IN THAT TOO.”

“aw geez, is everyone else okay?”

“YEA, EVEN UNDYNE.”

Horror’s expression soured at the mention of her. “well, that's great,” he said sarcastically. He vaguely heard someone else on the other side of the call. From what he heard it didn't sound like anyone he knew.

“OH, ALREADY?” Papyrus replied to the unidentified person. “I SEE,” he sounded disheartened. “BROTHER, I NEED TO END THE CALL NOW BEFORE IT TEARS A HOLE IN THE MULTIVERSE.”

“huh?”

“I’LL SEE YOU LATER, LOVE YOU!”

“love you too,” Horror managed to say before Papyrus hung up. The second the call ended he felt incredibly drained. He felt like he got a mental whiplash when he looked at the room he was in.

Killer seemed to tune out the last bit of their conversation as he managed to get all the clothes piled back on the shopping cart. It seemed like Dust helped him.

Nightmare was also looking at those two rather than at him. He wondered if he was eavesdropping on the phone call or not.

It's been an entire year since they've been here. He had no idea how much longer this would last. He didn't even know what would happen after.

“I will be out for the rest of the day,” Nightmare announced, opening a portal behind himself. “We are stocked up on supplies, correct?”

“you got it, chief,” Killer piped.

“Not my name…” Nightmare muttered before leaving.

Killer sighed the moment the portal closed, looking up at the pile of clothes. “i have no idea how i’m getting this to my room.”

“bet you can't get it to your room by the end of the day,” Horror said, still recovering from that call.

“hey. you're totally wrong.”

Horror shrugged, “time's ticking.”

Killer then decided that pushing the cart would be an effective way to get it to his room. To his credit, it wasn't until he was met with the obstacle that was the doorway to the hall that his plan became flawed. He turned his head to Horror. “so what are we betting exactly?”

[spacesodaa]

I stumbled across your albedo avalanche fic and fell in love with your writing! I saw your requests were open and wondered if you would be happy to write one with aventurine and afab reader with a shot of angst? Perhaps they are working together and his love gets hurt?

Thank you so much for your works, BTW! ❤️❤️

Aww tysm!! I really appreciate you liked my writing 🥹 I had a lot of fun writing this, hope you like this as much as I do!

Aventurine x Reader - Back To You

Characters: Aventurine, Reader (afab)

Summary: Aventurine makes a risky move during a trade with some bandits and you get hurt in the process.

Warnings: blood, angst, hurt/comfort

A/N: not proofread lmao

Aventurine watched in horror as you dove in front of him, catching the dart in his stead. He had calculated that provoking his possible business partners coult result in violence, but apparently he was horrible at math because never in a million years would he have expected you to take the shot for him. Not because he didn't think you would be apathetic to dire situations, but because he didn't think he was worth the trouble.

That was a reoccurring theme in your relationship, you have always had to remind him he was worth every effort you put in, even though his convictions were hard to break.

Aventurine deftly caught you before you could hit the rocky floor of the cave. It had been a risky move to meet the group of men in an isolated place like this, but again he had failed to take into account you had insisted to go with him and it wouldn't have been just his sorry ass to end in trouble.

The men grinned at him, seemingly satisfied with the result of their actions.

"This serves as your warning. You better lower your head sigonian trash" one of them said, before they all turned their backs on him and exited the cave. Another one of the men stopped right in front of the entrance and flashed him a toothy smile, waving. He pressed a button, causing a large rumble to erupt from right above the entrance. A cascade of rocks descended loudly, blocking the only exit.

Aventurine sat there stunned. It was clear to him now, that their intent was never really to negotiate, but to hurt him. Either directly or indirectly. If only he had insisted to go alone, you wouldn't have been in his arms progressively going limp. Only god knew what the hell was in the dart you had been shot with, so he quickly pulled it out from your belly, leaving an unhealthy purplish entry wound.

He shifted you in his grip and lowered to the ground with you. He sincerely hoped his phone would work in such a remote place. He fished it from his pocket, quickly typing the password, only to realize the rocks blocked whatever flimsy signal could reach this remote place. There were in fact, no bars in the signal indicator.

"Damn it" he muttered.

"Kakavasha..." He almost jumped out of his own skin at the sound of your voice. Aventurine brought you closer to his chest, your forehead burned against the exposed skin of his neck.

"Yes?" He hesitantly answered.

"It's not your fault" always straight to the point you were, piercing through the ungodly amount of walls he had built and reading past the facade.

"You shouldn't have jumped in front of me" Aventurine replied "what if that was a real gun and not a dart one?"

"And let you...get poisoned...?" Your words were starting to get lower, your gaze struggling to focus on anything.

"Yes! I provoked them! I miscalculated everything!" You could feel his hands shake as he held you.

"So...you must...pay the price...yeah no" you smiled bitterly, although your lips felt numb.

"It should have been my life in the gamble, not yours" he said in a defeated tone "I don't deserve you throwing yours away for me" the last part was muttered, but you heard it nonetheless.

"But you do...and the choice...is mine" you tried to say it as determined as you could muster. If the world was going to shit you would throw it away to save him in a matter of seconds. No questions asked.

The blonde man couldn't utter another word, just as you couldn't convince him to have some self worth, he couldn't convince you to give up on him. You were ride or die and he couldn't change that, maybe that was for the best. You had enough love to love him for himself too.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck and held onto you for dear life, as if it could cure you and you could keep rising next to him in the morning. What would he do if he lost you? He would lose everything once again, because as much as he didn't want to admit it to others, you were his everything.

He was scared, terrified you would draw your last breath any minute now. You didn't seem to be in pain, but you did look miserable. Your breaths were shallow and your skin was burning and covered in sweat as your body shook slightly.

Aventurine could only hope someone would notice you were gone - who would even notice a sigonian was missing? Maybe Topaz? - and come looking for you. At least he had had the good sense to leave your meeting location with Topaz.

He waited and waited, watching you slip away as the time passed. You had long lost consciousness and he could barely feel your shallow breaths against his neck.

"Please don't go..." He pleaded, eyes burning.

Your body felt numb, with a weird fuzziness in the background. It was similar to those old cathodic tube screens when no signal was available. A new type of 'annoying' you wished you hadn't learned existed.

With a bit of effort you managed to open your eyes and you were met with an unfamiliar room, dimly lit. It had white walls and some cabinets against the wall in front of you. To your left was a window with blinds obscured but you could see some light spill through the cracks. On the same side, right next to the bed were an IV bag (that you quickly realized was stuck in your arm) and a bunch of monitors beeping along with your heartbeat. Finally your eyes landed to your right, where Aventurine sat on a chair. He was leaning on the mattress of the bed you were on, head on his arms, hair completely disheveled shooting in every direction. Contrary to what one would expect from being in such a position, he was fast asleep. Even when you scooted a bit to sit up he didn't move an inch, which would have been normal if you were to be at home, but the room liked like one from a private hospital. To be this heavily asleep he must have been exhausted.

You reached your hand and gently smoothed over the rebellious locks, before switching to bushing your fingers through them as delicately as you could as to not wake him.

This was a rare sight, making you equal parts upset that you had caused it and in awe at the display of vulnerability. Most of the time he was wide awake before you so this was one of the few times you were able to watch him sleep.

The door opened slowly, revealing Topaz poking her head in. You smiled, waved at her followed by a quick gesture to keep quiet then pointing to your sleeping boyfriend.

She nodded and fully entered the room, closing the door behind her right after.

"How are you feeling?" She whispered once she was standing at your left, eyeing curiously Aventurine.

"Weird. Fuzzy?" You attempted, keeping your voice low. Which wasn't that hard because your throat was dry as hell so you couldn't talk as loud even if you tried.

"Yeah, we were told to expect something like this. The poison they used on you progressively numbs the body. We were lucky you were still breathing when I finally got to you two" she explained.

"I remember the dart. What happened after?" You asked, still petting Aventurine's hair.

"I don't know the details, but I found you two stuck in a cave and Aventurine was clutching onto you for dear life" Topaz said "I don't think I've ever seen him that terrified.

You frowned, knowing what you did, it was not hard to deduce his line of thought. He had lost so much and he had almost lost you.

If you hadn't jumped in front of him, it would have been him in your conditions and you couldn't bear the thought of that either.

"What did you guys end up doing with those 'clients'?"

"You mean the ones you two were meeting?" You hummed in response "I have no idea, Aven dealt with them a few days ago"

"Wait- a few days ago? How long have I been aslep??"

"About a week. I have never seen him leave this room more than a few minutes" she pointed to the man, who was still blissfully unaware. No wonder he was sleeping like a log.

Suddenly her phone started ringing and both of you cringed at the loud sound. Topaz quickly answered it and bolted out of the room.

The loud ringtone seemed to have been enough to disturb your boyfriend's sleep, as he let out a raspy groan in protest. You brushed his bangs away from his face and that got his attention. His head shot up, meeting your soft gaze and endearing smile.

"Y/n?" He asked, as if he couldn't believe you were there.

"Yes baby, I came back to you" he barely let you finish speaking before he bolted out of the chair to engulf you into an emotionally charged hug, a hand behind your shoulders and the other buried in your hair at the base of your neck.

"...I thought I had lost you for good" he muttered shakily "you wouldn't wake up..."

"I'm sorry to have worried you so much" you frowned, the conflictint feelings coming back full force.

"But you're going to do it again, aren't you?" He said it in a tone that was half amused and half utterly exasperated.

"Without a second thought. As much as you refuse to believe it, to me you're the world" you replied, gently prying him away from you to look at his face. You cupped his cheeks and watched intently as if you were trying to commit every detail to memory. Aventurine was simply lost in your eyes as you did, thinking of how a few hours ago he had thought he would never see them again.

You pressed a kiss to his lips, which he welcomed readily.

"Baby, you are so pale" you said, worried.

"Am I?" He cocked his head slightly "I haven't slept a wink aside from before" he chuckled, but it sounded tired. Now that he knew you were going to be okay the exhaustion was starting to take over once again.

"Why don't you cuddle with me? You can sleep and hold onto me, I won't go anywere" you smiled softly at him as you pulled him down onto the mattress with you. It didn't really take that much coaxing and soon he had his face buried into your plump chest as he held you from your middle.

"I love you" he muttered before falling asleep.

"I love you too"

[ihopeinevergetsoberr]

A quick meal

cw: shameless smut, no use of y/n, female anatomy for reader, desk sex, dirty talk, slightly rough(-ish)? perhaps??

word count: 1,5k

eng is not my first language, please inform me if you spot any mistakes!

Viktor always knew it’s what inside that counts. And so he counted. Every rich moan escaping your mouth, every squelch of the fondly fingered pussy — it’s every prominence, fold and flexure, and, of course — exactly how much pressure you prefer on your clit. Well, at least that explanation was the only reasonably-appearing one to you, because how the hell did he know how to make you cream his fingers in coats of delicious stickiness in exactly few minutes, the stretch of them so qualitative your throbbing walls could easily accept his cock with little to no effort put into penetration. He must have used an ungodly amount of diligence to develop this specific technique just for you — his precious, lecherous sweetheart. Your whimpers are a devil on his shoulder, distracting him from being a stern, dispassionate about anything except for his research man. That little temptation invited him into the warmth of your precious core instead. It kept luring in, filling his genius mind with dreamy filth. Besides: it’s so much better to be buried within the tightness of your cunt than within the loneliness of his lab, untouched and craving you in his arms so desperately. No, he most certainly would prefer the first option.

“Relax,” sultry whisper teases your ear, while the free from fucking into you hand crawled up, preliminarily teasing the swell of each breast on its way to your throat — to be wrapped around it like a pretty collar, securely tight, not firm enough to actually hurt, but to rather keep you in place, adding to the thrill, to the longing.

He rarely fucks you like this. Viktor’s never been a huge fan of quickies — he’s a taster at heart, thorough and passionate — a sloppy kiss here, a teasing lick there — working you up even when it’s not needed anymore, for the sake of pure entertainment — more his than yours, to be completely honest, but he would never willingly admit to that.

He likes to savour you, like a fresh fruit one’s supposed to eat slowly — painfully so, even, memorising the flavour in explicit detail, letting it engrave into the taste receptors.

But there’s cyanide even in the finest peaches. Eat too many — and you’re incapable of consuming anything anymore, death plastered across your gourmand-face. It takes around fifteen peach pits to kill a curious starved soul, after all.

So tonight Viktor stays away from the cyanide. He’s had enough ravishing for now, turning a solid number of your previous intercourses into love-making. He’s eager, and he’s treating you like a quick meal — totally different from his usual ‘eat-you up-like-you’re-the main course’ demeanour. Not that you mind, of course. Dining hastily has its charms too.

“Keep your legs spread for me,” the gentle demand continues to sting your ear, and as much as you’d love to comply — you simply can’t, trembling knees doing you no favours, allowing no small mercies.

“Darling?” he repeats, the sharpness of his ‘r’ a scrumptious scratch to your brain, turning you into a mess — nearly irreparable, matching the one you’ve turned his desk into once he bent you over it, capturing tightly between his erection and the hard wooden edge, kindly depriving you off the worries about your clothes getting in the way. So thoughtful of him.

Rolled up skirt rests on your lower back, exposing the plumpness of soft hips — so grabable, they’re practically begging for his attention, but he’s reluctant to pull the long fingers out of you just yet. You’re clenching around them so perfectly, blessing him with the privilege of feeling your every twitch.

The presence of your underwear doesn’t concern you anymore — it’s wrapped around your ankles, pretty lace occasionally tickling the skin, reminding of the abrupt harshness Viktor’s sinewy hands had ripped them off you with. So brusque when it comes to fucking you from behind that a mere touch feels rougher than the deepest of thrusts. Your pussy might be able to take him without turning into a mess, but your sanity? You wish he’d left you some, just the tiniest bit to at least obey him easily.

But not all wishes were meant to be fulfilled.

You mewl something hopelessly illegible as your words drown in your own moan, lewd sounds of his fingers parting the swollen folds of an already spent cunt louder than your actual voice. And suddenly body language is not a figurative concept anymore.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” the kind threat encourages hoarsely. “Or should I spread them for you?”

You can only squeeze out a nod. Viktor releases your neck with a sympathetic chuckle, and a deft hand grabs at your left calf, helping a trembling leg to step out of the damp lingerie, leaving it completely forgotten and lonely on the floor. You’ll collect it later: if only the dirty-minded inventor lets you, of course. Which was highly doubtful, since tucking your undergarments into a pocket of his dresspants started to really grow on him lately. The possibility of obstaclessly fucking you over another surface once you’re in private again is too tempting to be pushed away so fast.

You fall on his desk, cold wood a tough pillow to your flushed cheek. However the loving hand stroking at your flesh doesn’t move to proceed with complaisant ministrations on your right limb. The buckle of his belt jingles, unfastening, negligently joining your underwear on the floor. You quirk an inquisitive eyebrow, putting a rather pathetic effort into propping yourself up, searching for an explanation to his movements. But a rough palm falls on your lower back with a thump, firmly pacifying, practically smacking.

“Don’t move, dear,” he hisses, pulling his fingers out of you right before you got the chance to cum all over them. Scarily rigorous again. And vicious. But you don’t say that. It’s not like you’re able to talk coherently anyway.

Something — which you suspect to be his foot — persistently forces your legs out of the way, sprawling you more for his hungry gaze. The toe of his shoe roughly kisses each one of your heels, spreading you open, just as he’d promised.

“How rude!” you exclaim, voice dripping with fake resentment.

“Rude?” he laughs, and the next thing you feel is a caring peck on a shoulder, the sweet heat of his breath back where it belongs — teasing the shell of your ear. “Well, please excuse me this one whim, but can you really blame me? Besides, I suppose my… barbarism happened to be quite efficient.”

His tip is pressed against your entrance, slowly working its way inside, brushing a puffy labia on its way. You’re sure it’s leaking with precum for you already — it might be impossible to feel through the lavish wetness seeping out of you, but you know Viktor good enough to be certain of pearly bitterish liquid breaking out of his slit.

You don’t lack his fingers anymore — not when you’re about to be so much more palpably filled, the thickness of his cock irreplaceable with any amount of his phalanxes. An unsolved mystery for both of you. The one leading you to an embarrassingly primitive statement — whatever it is so special about him keeps you coming back for more.

“There was no need to be so ill-mannered. I could have spread my legs just perfectly fine,” you mutter a shameless lie, already expecting a protest.

“And from my expertise you weren’t exactly competent,” Viktor mocks with a tortuously handsome smirk, and you make a fatal mistake of looking over your shoulder right when his narrow hips thrust into yours, his length splitting you with a delicious burn. It takes away the remnants of your stamina. “Because trust me, I can tell when one’s incapable of standing on their own feet — let alone moving properly. Coming from an adept, figuratively speaking.”

He bends lower, warm dry lips pressed to the glistening sweat on your temple. He doesn’t rush to have his way with you anymore, hand found peace on your chin, tilting up, gently forcing a thumb into the open mouth. You greet it with a needy bite, a wordless plea to convince him to finally start pounding into you, to satisfy the body lusting for his steady thrusts.

“You’re quivering,” Viktor notes with a pensive hum. “Shall I proceed? You look like you’re in more need of a cane than I am, my darling. So wobbly.”

The plea-bite on his thumb quickly turns into a menacing one. Canine pierces the skin, earning a muffled against the mess of your hair ‘ouch’, demanding the heartily craved resumption.

“Am I pinned like this forever or are you done with the fucking drollery?”

A sultry laugh caresses your ear, and the throbbing cock inside you slips almost all the way out, leaving you clenching purely around the bulging tip.

“Save the swearing,” utters the pretty tempter.

A rough roll of his hips into yours. Ass bounces off his pelvis, the slap of skin against skin loud and resonant, mingling with your desperate gasp just perfectly. Has you seeing numerous sparks, mouth drops open in a breathless ‘yes’.

“That vocabulary is only appropriate for an orgasm.”

[cas-kingdom]

The Night Shift

A/N: First NCIS fic! Decided to keep my OC's name instead of reader as I'm pretty attached to her.

If you're alone on V Day, here's some Gibbs. <3

Title: The Night Shift

Summary: What's worse than a sick Gibbs? A sick mini Gibbs.

Words: 2568

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was tired.

She wrinkled her nose as something tickled at it and sat up to reach for the packet of tissues sitting dutifully by the pillow.

It was two am, and Emmie Gibbs was sick and tired.

Tony, the shit-stirrer that he was, leaned precariously back in his swivel chair to stare at her. If it weren’t for the squeak of the chair itself, she still would have noticed his sudden attention by the feeling of his eyes boring into her for perhaps the tenth time since they’d set up camp in the NCIS building about five hours ago. He was relentless.

Emmie paused. Tissue wedged in her nose, sinuses burning, she looked up and stared at him. Tony rose an eyebrow. Emmie hardened her stare. Tony, because he was Tony, purposefully leaned further back so she could see the exact moment he dramatically cupped a hand to his stupid little mouth and—

“Giiibbs!”

Emmie’s jaw tensed. Tony grinned in superfluous victory.

Another squeak, a more familiar one this time, and Gibbs’s swivel chair glided along the carpeted floor around the divider between the cubicles until he could see Emmie. She was still sitting up, looking quite the sight with a tissue halfway up her right nostril and her hair sticking at all angles. On any other day she would have responded to Tony’s pure gall by glaring him straight into the ground. But today was not that day. Today was a bad day. Today, her week-long, just-about-bearable cold had decided to manifest into sinusitis, and she’d woken with a face that felt as though tiny little men were mining for gold in her skull. Ducky had liked that metaphor.

Partly because she was absolutely awful at caring for herself when she was ill, and partly—mostly—because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on work if she was left to fend for herself at home, Gibbs had dragged Emmie into the office with him. She’d made her rounds all day—curled up on Abby’s little couch at first, then bundled off to an empty room when Abby found working in silence too impossible. At lunchtime, a meeting had been scheduled in the room, and she’d been forced to accompany Gibbs and Tony in the car to a naval base connected to the case they were working on, sniffling and groaning in the back seat like a Victorian child on her death bed.

And here she was now, at two a bloody m, lying on an ungodly amount of blankets, wrapped in Gibbs’s jacket and Tony’s hoodie, on the floor, feeling like her body was readying to explode. Life couldn’t get worse.

Unless you were acquainted with Tony DiNozzo. In which case, life could, and most certainly would, get worse.

Gibbs dipped his head and rose an eyebrow at Emmie. Emmie couldn’t do much in her defence but sniff. Hard. A slight protest only she had the guts to attempt. It was when he pointed a finger at her and motioned with it for her to lie down again that Emmie tossed her arms up.

“Do you know—” Another sniff—“Do you even know how hard it is to lie down and feel your sinuses drain into your throat?” Her voice was so nasally she couldn’t sound stern, even if she put every ounce of effort into it.

Tony, naturally, did not try hard to cover his amusement at that. He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, spinning from side to side absently in his chair with the tip of his tongue held between his smirking lips when Emmie turned narrowed eyes on him.

“I was getting a tissue, FYI,” she said to him and only him. “So, you can stop being a kiss ass, Anthony.”

“Emmie.” Gibbs disappeared behind the divider again. “Back to sleep.”

Tony, meanwhile, gaped. “Kiss ass who?”

Emmie ignored him and shuffled back down again. She shut her eyes and swallowed. Already the disgusting stuff had decided the place it wanted to be right now was her stomach, and was meandering slowly down her throat towards it.

“You were being a bit of a kiss ass,” she heard Gibbs agree.

“Oh, come on. You said you wanted her to sleep!”

“Yeah, and I do.”

“But you’re gonna call me a kiss ass when I tell you she’s not sleeping? Kiss my ass.”

“What was that?”

“Sorry, Boss.”

In all honesty, there was nothing more that Emmie wanted least right now than to sleep. True, she was exhausted, but the part of her brain not currently still enshrouded in said exhaustion wanted to be up and active again, helping Gibbs with the case like her internship allowed.

And yet, the man still believed she needed her head on a pillow.

The team had been working on a case all day, one she didn’t know the specifics of. It wasn’t exactly often that they stayed in the office well into the night to continue their current case, but it appeared Gibbs had a weird feeling about this one. From the snippets of conversation that she’d picked up and actually retained in her decrepit brain, a potential witness was lying unconscious in a hospital bed somewhere, and Gibbs wanted to speak to him the moment he woke up, which, according to the doctors, could be at any time. That apparently required the entire team to stay behind which, considering the fact Emmie was currently holed up on the floor of Ziva’s empty cubicle, not everyone had complied with.

The moment Tony got out of his chair to help Gibbs with something and disappeared from her line of sight, Emmie eased herself into a sitting position once more. She reached for the tissues again, rubbing at her leaking nose with the sleeve of Gibbs’s jacket and not possessing the brain power to regret that decision. She blew into a tissue, paused to catch her breath, then—

“Gibbs.”

Emmie deflated completely. Wow. The world truly hated her today.

She looked up to see McGee walking in with a bag of takeout. He barely glanced at her as he passed, choosing to instead spend that energy alerting Gibbs to the fact she was, again, not lying down.

Before either Tony or Gibbs could come into view once more, Emmie sighed, stuck two bits of tissue in both nostrils, and scooted backwards to sit against the wall.

“Can’t breathe lying down,” she said before anyone could say a single word. “And I’m tired of being tired. I don’t want to sleep anymore. Leave me alone. Don’t talk to me. Shush.”

Tony’s head appeared around the corner, and he snorted again. Then the squeak of Gibbs’s chair as he got up. A rustling. A moment later he appeared with a takeout box in his hand, walking towards her. He lifted it so she could see, and she groaned, shaking her head. A corner of Gibbs’s mouth lifted but he wasn’t about to back down on this fight. He never did.

He knelt in front of her, close enough to see the pallidness of her face and the slight sickly tremble of her small frame. Emmie visibly relaxed when he reached out a hand to press against her forehead, the coolness of his skin momentarily dowsing the heat of hers.

Gibbs checked the watch at his wrist. “Another couple hours and you can dose up again.”

“Thanks.”

“Yep. ‘Till then…” He went to withdraw his hand, but Emmie’s own hand shot up and pinned his to her forehead.

“No,” she said simply.

“No to my hand leaving, or food?”

“No.”

“You gotta eat. You know the drill. Eat or sleep.” She grumbled something and Gibbs reached with his free hand to lift the lid on the box. The smell of warm chicken soup filled the space between them, and Emmie wrinkled her nose. “Come on, kiddo. It’s only soup.”

“I feel too sick to eat.”

“Sleep it is, then.”

“Dad—”

“Hey. The cure for alll Emmie-related illness is sleep. Always has been, always will be.” It was true. Gibbs knew his daughter better than she knew herself, after all. Everyone was different, but Emmie’s medicine was sleep until she could look him in the eye and confidently tell him she felt a bit better. If years of being a single parent had taught him anything, it was that.

With a bit of reluctance, he pulled his hand from her head and leant forward on his toes. “You don’t have to lie down to sleep,” he told her. “Here—” Emmie wasn’t quite sure what he was doing with the pillows and blankets behind her, but when he sat back and she turned as much as her aching neck would allow, there was a nice little DIY upright-bed against the wall. Gibbs, seemingly proud of his work, was met with a look of absolute discontent on his daughter’s face.

He puffed his cheeks out and glanced at the soup. “Aeroplane?”

“Seriously?” Emmie deadpanned.

He reached for the spoon, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. “Worked when you were a kid.”

“There’re a few keywords in that sentence, Dad. Are you trying to give Tony more fuel to embarrass me?”

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder. Tony had returned to his desk, leaning dangerously back in his chair to gain the best vantage point. The man had absolutely zero shame.

Gibbs jerked his head. “Check with the hospital about Lupin, would you, DiNozzo?”

Tony visibly deflated. Emmie sent him a smug look and he stuck his tongue out. Reluctantly, he wheeled back to his desk and picked up the phone. “Do this, DiNozzo, do that, DiNozzo,” he grumbled to himself. “Oh, while you’re at it, why don’t you polish my boots and write a thesis on my intellectual prowess, DiNozzo? Sure, I’ll get right on it, Boss!” He dialled the number and put the phone to his ear. “Should I get your laundry and your coffee too, Boss? Should I do—hi, there! Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS, calling for an update on a patient? Ryan Lupin. Yeah, I’ll hold. Thanks.”

“Dad.” Such an exasperated voice could only belong to the resident invalid, and after only a second’s hesitation, Tony—slowly—wheeled himself back, as far as the cord to the phone still held against his ear would allow. Emmie and Gibbs were still on the floor, the former looking most disgruntled at the spoon in the latter’s hand.

“I’m being serious,” she said then.

“So am I,” Gibbs said, “very serious. I’m being very serious right now. Soup?”

Emmie rolled her eyes, but a smile was pulling at her lips all the same. She shook her head. “Go back to your desk, old man.”

Tony’s brows shot up and he grinned. “Oohoohoo!” He was close to rubbing his hands together in sheer glee. “You gonna let her get away with that, Boss?”

“Lupin, DiNozzo.”

“I’m on hold!” The fact that Gibbs made no sign that he was going to pick his daughter up on her insult, when Tony knew that if he’d been the one to call his boss elderly he’d be getting a bit more than a slap to the back of the head, hit a sore spot. “Wait,” he said, looking hilariously appalled, “you’re actually gonna let her get away with it?”

Gibbs, defeated in this part only, dropped the spoon back in the box and put it on the desk. “I’ve been called worse,” he called back, “believe me.”

“Grandpa,” Emmie said.

“Thank you, Em, that’s very helpful.”

“Ninnyhammer, pillock, douche canoe, old man—”

“You already said that one.” Gibbs chuckled. “Douche canoe?”

Emmie shrugged. “Dunderhead.”

“Alright.”

“Ugly…nut.”

“Jemima.”

McGee, who’d since been silently working and eating at his desk, paused. Mouth open, forkful of noodles on its way, he turned confused eyes to the ground.

“Her name’s Jemima?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “How long you been here McGee?”

As soon as Emmie looked the slightest bit like she was about to resume her name-calling, Gibbs put his palm over her mouth. He rose a brow in warning. She blinked. Blinked again. Then—

“Aw, come on!” Gibbs’s face contorted into one of absolute disgust as a rush of air and wet stuff flew at his hand. He withdrew it immediately, holding it away from him, while Emmie sniffed and nonchalantly used the jacket sleeve again.

“You little crapbag.” It was the best he could come up with.

“What? You think I plan my sneezes?”

Tony, up until now quite enjoying the performance, rolled quickly back to the desk with the phone at his ear. “Hi, yeah, I’m still here.”

Gibbs stood and walked briskly to his desk so he could grab the stack of napkins the takeout had come with. “I don’t doubt anything when it comes to you.”

“Thank you.” Emmie rubbed at her red eyes with her hand and slumped against the back of the wall. Gibbs, coating his hands with sanitizer, watched with a knowing eye. He shook his hands and walked back around to Ziva’s cubicle, perching on the desk to look down at her.

“You’re sick,” he said.

“I know. And?”

“And, sick people eat soup, and they sleep. Okay? They don’t stay up at all hours of the night—nooo, no, no. I’m talking now, kiddo. I know you’ve been sleeping all day, I know you wanna get up and back to work, but that’s not happening until your fever’s gone. No point in fighting that, and you know full well. Clear?”

Any other day. Any. Other. Day. The protests were practically clawing at her throat. But a sudden wave of nausea rushed over her and she backed down immediately. Still, the thought of lying down again was awful, and the tired eyes she turned on her dad somehow translated that.

Gibbs sighed. “What’s it gonna take, huh?” Emmie didn’t need to think about her answer to that. She wasn’t even sure her expression had changed at all when Gibbs shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. “No,” he said, “come on, now. I gotta work.”

This time, she did change her expression, putting it on in the way she knew worked best. Gibbs, naturally, relented.

“Fine,” he said, motioning with his hands for her to move over. She did, though admittedly it was a bit of a pitiful move with her aching body. He breathed a short laugh but came to sit in the miniscule space she’d made beside her anyway.

“Thanks, douche canoe,” Emmie whispered.

Tony put the phone down. “Still knocked out, Boss,” he said, pushing his chair backwards. When he saw Gibbs on the floor, arm wrapped around his daughter, who had her head on his shoulder, he crossed his arms over his chest and positively pouted.

“Hey, why do you get to sleep?”

Gibbs chuckled and shut his eyes. “When you’ve got a sick kid, I’ll let you sleep on the office floor with her. Wake me before Lupin does, would you?”

“How am I—Boss? Boss?” Tony threw his arms up in the air and shook his head, grabbing a notebook from his desk to doodle in. “Kiss my ass.”

“Heard that.”

“I wanted you to.”

Well, one thing was for certain. Gibbs may have won this fight, but so had Emmie.

NCIS Masterpost

[pimosworld]

Never have I ever

Kinktober Prompt-Voyeurism,Squirting,Polyamory

Pairing -Will Miller x f!reader x Tf boys x f!reader

Summary-You and the boys play a game and things take an interesting turn.

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, Voyuerism, Smut, Fluff, Rough sex, Dom Will, mentions of anal, mentions of MM dynamics, restraints, mentions of safe word but no use, established poly relationship, Unprotected PIV, cream pie, squirting, aftercare. Appropriate discussion of past relationships.

WC-4K

A/N- Set in the story of us verse but can be read as a stand alone. Reader is not race coded, no use of Y/N. This is my current WIP procrastination, when lightning strikes you must write. My first kinktober prompt. I just reached 400 followers and this is 4000 words so I’m gonna take this as my follower celebration as well.

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

“Ben, are we seriously playing this?” The five of you are situated comfortably in your usual spots in the living room and somehow the younger Miller has convinced you all to ‘make things more interesting’ in his words. 

  “I’m too old for this.” Frankie mumbles into his beer as he downs the rest. 

  “We know…that doesn’t mean you’re getting out of it.” You chuckle briefly as Santi’s hand skirts higher up your thigh under the blanket. He’s been slowly torturing you as you relaxed on the couch, all of you decompressing and going over your week. It was a new ritual to discuss the ins and outs of your time apart but it seemed Ben was growing tired of the normal mostly mundane conversation.

  “Hands up let’s go.” The impatient Miller barks from his spot on the floor, too big to fit anywhere else and you're always unsure of why Will won’t just get a bigger couch. You suggested a few months ago that it would be nice for all of you to be able to relax together. He agreed but evidently it takes time to find the perfect one. 

  Everyone reluctantly puts their hands up, Santiago opting for one hand because he can’t pry his other from the warmth of you under the blanket. The other part of you knows he’ll probably lose this game and he doesn’t feel like putting too much effort into revealing how much of a slut he was before he pulled his head out of his ass and finally told you how he felt. 

  “Both hands, Pope.” Frankie chides from beside you and Santi squeezes your thigh before drawing his hand out and flipping him off. 

  This game was an odd choice, almost completely out of left field. The five of you knew almost everything there was to know about each other. Although you’re sure the boys know a lot more about their respective sexual escapades than they know about yours. Nothing among these men is ever done by accident, you’re just waiting to see the angle that’s being played so you don’t end up trapped. The confused and amused looks on the others' faces has you a little at ease since it seems this is a solo mission for Ben and those didn’t always go as planned. 

  “I’ll start since it was my idea.” Will sends you a look from across the room as to say of course and you’re acutely aware that he hasn’t let out one protest or sign of stopping this game. You’re almost positive it’ll come down to you both in the end and he knows it judging by the smug look on his face. 

  “Never have I ever faked an orgasm.” You roll your eyes as you put one finger down. Maybe you were going to lose after all. The chuckles from the others don’t help your embarrassment, even though you should hardly blame yourself. It doesn’t need to be clarified that since you’d been with all of them there was no need to fake it anymore, but it was definitely known by all that you had to in the past an ungodly amount of times. 

  You brave a look up from the carpet that you’d all but memorized as you see Ben's wide tooth grinning at Frankie beside you. You look over just in time to see Frankie put his finger down as the redness creeps up his neck. He’s staring daggers at the younger Miller and Santi’s chuckles send vibrations through your body as you lean into him. 

  “How did she not know?” You ask him in the sweetest tone, no judgment behind it, just genuine curiosity. 

  He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, his calloused fingers digging into the patchy part of his beard. No doubt thinking how long this night will be if we have to explain each finger down,but of course that’s always Ben’s plan. He wants to draw this out for as long as he can. 

  “I pulled out and spit on her back.” He says it so sheepishly you almost feel bad for him. An image flashes in your mind and you make the mistake of looking over at Will who is doing his best to not completely lose it. You cup your mouth trying to suppress the giggle but it’s far too late. 

  “Laugh it up honey.” The funniest part is how could anyone not be thoroughly enjoying themselves when Francisco Morales is behind the wheel, but you figure it’s their loss. 

  You wrack your brain for something you’ve never done that they may have.Blowjob,one night stand,sent a nude photo,had sex in public…those are all out. 

  Will interrupts your thoughts as he speaks from the loveseat. “Never have I ever had a threesome.” He just saved you in more ways than one as you see Benny and Frankie glance at each other as they put a finger down. Santi tsks beside you and you don’t even have to look over to see he did as well. 

  You miss the look Santi shoots Frankie above your head as he makes a mental note. Ben may have been a thorn in his side at times but right now he could kiss the ground he walked on. Unbeknownst to you this has turned into a silent competition of memorizing everything you’ve never done,each time you don’t put a finger down he clocks one of them. He doesn’t even care that he’s about to lose as the room thrums with sexual tension. 

  As you predicted you and Will have the most fingers left. You have three,Will has two and Benny has one that he’s been holding onto for dear life. Santi and Frankie had long been out, Santi rejoins the group after refreshing your drinks. He knew he hasn't missed anything since it was getting harder to think of things as the game went on. 

  You need to get Ben out and you were sure this next question would. If it also took one down for Will then you would just be getting lucky you guessed. 

  “Never have I ever done anal.” Santi stifles a moan next you as Frankie not so subtly adjusts the growing bulge in his jeans. You were so focused on winning that you have no idea how thin of a thread they were holding onto. Frankie’s been fighting the mental image of checking each thing off your list one by one. Santiago isn’t faring much better not having realized how much innocence was still lying dormant in you. 

  Ben concedes as he grabs the pillow he was using on the floor, your brace for the moment that he decides to toss it at you only for him to place it gingerly in his lap. 

  “Welcome to the club.” Frankie mutters under his breath as you stare down Will who now has one finger up…interesting. 

  “Never have I ever been tied up.” Fuck

  You put a finger down and wait for the responses that eventually never come. Will was playing dirty, he knows for a fact you’ve been tied up. It had only been a week since he asked you if you wanted to try it. 

  This was it,you had to go for the kill…but how bad did you want to win? You know there’s only one way but it will certainly come at a cost. In the end the cost may be worth it. 

  You raise up on the couch sitting back on your heels,proudly displaying the two fingers you have left. You can’t chance a look at anyone besides Will or you might chicken out. Frankie’s fingers grip nervously at the blanket that’s fallen next to you. He wants to reach out and touch you, the only sound over your beating heart is the rustling of the couch cushions as Santi leans forward just into your peripheral vision. Breath in…Breathe out 3,2,1. 

  “Never have I ever made someone squirt.” You say it so fast they almost don’t catch it…almost.

  “Ha…he’s never made anyone…” Ben is silenced mid sentence as Will closes his fist and leans back into the seat. He doesn’t really care that he’s lost, in reality he’s actually won this game. Judging by the shocked looks on their faces or Ben’s mouth hanging agape. You didn’t fully think this through, your brain was clouded with the thrill of winning. 

  He almost feels bad for you as he says the momentary look of triumph quickly turns into one of defeat. It’s written all over your face as the realization sets in that you’ve completely fucked yourself, you would be a horrible poker player because you just revealed all your cards. If this were a lion's den you were a fresh piece of meat. 

  A drop of sweat trickles down your back as you lower your hand slowly to place it on your thigh. The room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. 

  “Prove it.” Santi’s voice is so close to your ear you nearly jump out of your skin. 

  Will tilts his head at you as if to challenge you. This game was far from over and you’d be damned if you were going to lose. You stand from the couch and walk over to him. Four sets of eyes watching your every move as you grab his hand and pull him to stand. You raise your eyebrows as an acceptance to his challenge and he starts to lead you away from them toward the hallway. You sense no movement behind you as you make your way to his bedroom. 

  “You boys coming or not?”  A small stampede sounds behind you and you chuckle picturing them trying not to trample each other as their bodies catch up with their feet, no doubt all thought having left their brains. 

  ****

  Santi’s lost count, has it been five or six times Will has brought you to the edge only to pull away and deny you what you so desperately want and need. He’s no stranger to this game but he doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on by it. Watching from a whole different viewpoint. Being a spectator is thrilling and watching you writhe and chase his touch after each denial makes his cock achingly hard in his jeans. 

  Frankie’s not doing much better as he tries to follow Will's rules he laid out before starting. If you want me to show you then you don’t touch her unless I tell you to. The captain in him didn’t come out often anymore but when it did he commanded respect. 

  Ben stares on with excitement and curiosity written all over his face. He watches as you grip the sheets, your chest heaving as sweat beads down your forehead. Will told you not to touch yourself and Ben didn’t know you could be so obedient. 

  Wills got you so on edge you can’t be shy anymore about the way you beg for him and plead for him to let you come. A far cry from when you first entered the bedroom. 

  He had slowly undressed you and instructed you to lay flat on the bed. He crawled over your body kissing and biting his way up your thighs and your stomach. His hand caressed your breast as his tongue laved over the other. It was too much and not enough as your eyes met the others standing in the room. They’d all seen you in this position before but something about them watching suddenly has you feeling vulnerable. 

  “Look at me.” He leaned in and kissed you, deep and passionate as his hand gripped your waist and his tongue prodded your mouth. An expert distraction to bring you back to the moment. 

  “It’s just me and you.” It was the last thing he said to you before he methodically took you apart right before their eyes. You knew he was taking his time, putting on a show. He wasn’t simply going to make you squirt and move on like some conquest. He wanted to draw this out, show them what he was capable of. 

  He started with his mouth as his breath ghosted over your slick folds. He looked up at you through hooded lids one more time to give you a chance to back out, when you gave no indication of wanting to stop he dragged his tongue expertly through your slit. Parting it with his thumb as he dove in circling your clit. You were a goner from the beginning as he brought you to the first cliff only to leave you hanging. You cried out his name in desperation as he dipped two fingers in, pumping in and out as he bit down on your thigh. The pleasure and pain mixed in with you on display had your nerves alight. 

  With each denied release you can feel the pressure building in your core, it’s so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. You can taste yourself as he leans over you again kissing you through your whimpers as your body shakes beneath him. 

  “Will please…” Your sweet voice begging is like music to their ears. Frankie would give you whatever you want if you asked him but Will doesn’t budge. 

  “Please what sweetheart…I can’t read your mind.” 

  Son of a bitch he’s trying to kill you. 

  For all his resolve Santiago can’t help but be impressed. Even if this sudden burst of confidence is all a show for them he has to admit he would’ve caved by now and just went straight for the finale. 

  You’re not even sure when Ben and Frankie sat on the bed leaning against the headboard beside you, or when Santi sat at the end to have a perfect view of your pussy clenching around nothing as your arousal drips onto the sheets below. 

  “Please Will, I need you inside me…I need to come please.” You’re practically crying as he shushes you, his cock leaking precum on your stomach as it twitches in anticipation. He’s not going to be able to last much longer at this rate either. 

  He leans back on his heels as he grips the base of his cock, slapping your clit and dragging it through your slick as he slowly prods your entrance. The noise you make almost has him buckling as you sigh into it finally having what you want. 

  He starts at a slow pace as he wraps your legs around his waist, he can see the way your face contorts with every slap of his hips against yours. You can feel every vein and ridge as the lude sounds of your sweat and slick echo in the room. 

  You can’t see it from where you are but Frankie’s itching to touch you, desperately wanting to break the rule as he watches you try not to touch yourself. 

  Ben is mesmerized as he watches your breasts bounce with every thrust of Will's hips, he wants to latch onto you and bite down until you're screaming his name, but he knows his brother would do more than scold him if he so much as tried to touch you right now. 

  Santi’s waiting…waiting for any sign or movement as to how he does it. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself but he’s seen nothing new, nothing he hasn’t done to you a dozen times over. Any indication as to what Will has managed to do before the rest of them. It’s driving him a little mad as he watches you beg for it like you’ve never had it before. 

  You can feel the tension building as Will picks up his pace, he shifts your legs to either side of his head as he punches the air out of your lungs with every thrust. He brings his thumb down rubbing fast circles on your clit as you try to grab his wrist. That all too familiar feeling has you keen and arch your back. “Grab her hands.” Frankie moves before you can think, your wrists gripped tightly in one of his palms above your head. 

  “Wait…please.” He chuckles under his breath as his chest heaves with the sharp movements. Not mere seconds ago you were begging to come and now you’re begging him to stop. 

  You crane your head back and lock eyes with Ben, his eyes are etched with worry as he lays there helpless to your pleas. “Will!” 

  “She’s fine…aren’t you sweetheart?” You can’t think, he’s fucked you so dumb you cant remember your own name let alone formulate a sentence. “Yes.” Is all you can manage. 

  “She knows what to say if she wants to stop.” He grits through his teeth as his orgasm steadily approaches, his thighs burn and he’s surely bruised your calves as he grips tightly to them. 

  You’ve never safe worded with him and you don’t plan on it now. It feels so good as the searing hot sensation creeps up your spine threatening to take purchase in your brain. “Please don’t stop.” 

  He gestures to Frankie to grab the pillow, who moves with lightning speed as he situates it under your back. Santi looks at your face then, and he finally sees it. The look of panic and bliss as you succumb to the inevitable. He’s seen this look before but he ran from it afraid that he might hurt you. Will punches something deep inside you as he lifts your hips, the sound you make bordering on pornography while your arousal coats his stomach almost forcing him out of you completely. 

  He thrusts once and twice before nearly collapsing his weight onto you as he comes through your high. He releases your legs as he leans in to give you a kiss. Will was nothing if thorough and he always made sure you were okay. It’s in this moment that you truly feel like it’s just the two of you and not aware of the blissed out expressions of the other men. 

  “You did so good for me.” He pants out against your mouth as he desperately tries to catch his breath. 

  You highly doubt this is what Ben had in mind when he suggested this game but it ended much better than any of you would have anticipated. 

  Moments pass and you’ve just barely recovered. You’re in need of a shower and some water as you try to move slightly, the grip on your wrists tighten as you look back at Frankie. 

  Do it again. 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Tagging a few who might be interested

@csarab615 @syrupsstuff @ghostslillady @uudelally @onefinnedwonder-fm @thedreadandthefugitivemind @romanarose @scarletthefierce

[duuhrayliegh]

bartender!eddie x dancer!reader

just an idea i’ve been tossing around, lmk what yall think!!!

okay but imagine that eddie munson finds himself at a burlesque lounge on the sunset strip. he’s immediately entranced by the energy and the music and the women. he absolutely had to get out of hawkins so he made the trek to LA, hoping to find some smidgen of fame with his guitar skills. instead he finds burlesque. he finds the dancing, the jazz, the women, the drinks, the overall ambience and he just knows he has to be apart of it. so he finds the band manager, begs for an audition for the band only to be redirected to the owner who denies his request but offers him a position as a bartender. does he want to be serving drinks? no, but it’s a foot in the door.

so he stays, serving drink after drink, longing to be performing in the band, performing for the hundreds of customers that pay the overpriced cover charge of the burlesque lounge. he makes it a weekly habit to ask if the band needs coverage for the guitarist, and every week the band manager says no. so he falls into a monotonous loop, one that involves him creating cocktails, checking IDs, applying an almost ungodly amount of eyeliner (and subsequently never being able to get it all fully so he looks like a raccoon as he reapplies), acquiring a numerous amount of tattoos from his tips at the bar, continuing to write songs and aching to be on the band stage. 

all of this causes him to slump. he would never admit it of course. but he’s single, in his mid-twenties, working at a bar that is continuously packed with some of the most beautiful people he’s every had the pleasure of laying eyes upon. the best view on the sunset strip with no windows. no way out. he’s slowly finding himself back in the monotony that he was trying to escape from in hawkins. he’s probably about two seconds from putting in his notice when you walk in.

you stroll in, hair bouncing against your shoulders, every bit of you looks like a dream. you stand in front of his station, eyes wide and watching the women dancing. you seem in a trance, the same trance that eddie was when he first witnessed the burlesque lounge. he knows it all too well. he can tell by your general vibe that you’re new to town so he offers you a drink “on the house, baby doll” you blush at the name, your shoulders raising in an effort to shrink yourself. “you from around here?” he knows the answer but he wants a conversation, a connection, a spark, something to make waves. “unless i’ve suddenly transported back to the land of cows and endless nothingness, no i’m not from here” “well dorothy, welcome to the land of oz” he toasts your drink before reluctantly returning to his job. 

two hours later, you emerge from the backstage area, an excited look dawning your features as you approach the bar again. “you might be seeing me around here more often mr. bartender sir” his eyebrows shoot to his hairline as he cleans the wine glass in his hand. “and that would be because?” he prompted your answer while swinging the white towel over his shoulder. “because i have a dance audition” “oh you dance baby doll?” “mostly in the mirror at home, but i know that i can learn really fast” “that what you told ol’ nance up there?” “i did, and she agreed to at least let me audition” he leans against the bar top, his hands coming to rest just beside yours on the dark grain wood. “you’re ambitious, anyone ever told you that?’ he watches your lips curl into a beaming  smile, clearly praise looks good on you “i tell myself that every day” 

your finger taps the tip of his nose before you bounce off the barstool. he watches as you flit out of the door of the bar yelling a quick goodbye over your shoulder. he realizes now that his life is about to get a whole less monotonous with you around and he can’t help but smile about that. 

[legacyshenanigans]

Completely Random list of HC's..I dunno lol, just wanted to do this.

The Lads

Who runs the fastest?

Leander, believe it or not. He's taller than the other lads and has long legs, so he can actually run real fast.

The biggest eater?

Garreth, mans can put away an ungodly amount of food, to a point where it's freakishly concerning.

Who's got a good eye for decor?

Amit, amit has a really good eye for colour scheme and general feng shui, you want someone to help you redecorate? Amits ya boi.

Who's the most likely to marry a muggle?

Not that ANY of the lads have anything against muggles, but the most likely to end up with one is Everett, being a half blood himself he's more "in tune with that world" if you will.

Who's the most accident Prone?

Garreth, he's really clumsy and ditzy

Who's the strongest in regards to physical strength?

Sebastian, he's stocky and well built.

Who's the most emotional?

Ominis, mans extra in every emotion. It's not necessarily a bad thing, even good emotions like happiness he's extra in.

Who's got the shortest fuse?

Leander, it doesn't take a lot to piss Leander off.

Who's the most intelligent?

All the lads are intelligent in their own way. However, in general, Amit is the most intelligent.

Who's the bitchiest?

Ominis, he can be the sweetest bean, or an ABSOLUTE bitch, mans can and WILL make you cry with his bitchy attitude.

Who's the best flyer?

Everett is pretty keen on a broom. He knows all the tricks and he's fast, and if you need to get somewhere quickly, ask Everett to take you.

Most likely to sleep with someone on the first date?

Sebastian 🤣 I don't need to say much else.

Most likely to have kids first?

Garreth, 100%, by accident.

Dirtiest fighter?

Ominis actually, he's REALLY nasty in physical fights.

Swears the most?

Sebastian, he's always effin' and jeffin'

Most shy around crush?

Leander, he loses all sense of brain, and ends up saying dumb shit, as much as he hates it, he can't help himself.

Lightest sleeper?

Amit, a pin drop would wake him up.

Heaviest sleeper?

Garreth, a damn tornado wouldn't wake him.

The first one to fall asleep at a sleepover?

Everett, hands down.

The one who's still awake at like 3am?

Sebastian, 100%

The Sneakiest?

Ominis, he's incredibly light footed, mans a ghost, you won't know he's there until he shows himself.

The one who talks the most?

Garreth, man absolutely LOVES a chinwag.

The one who talks the least?

Amit, man a few words, would much rather listen to a conversation than be in one to be honest.

The ones who's bark is worse than their bite?

Leander, don't get me wrong, he can be tough, and handle himself fine, bit his words are nastier than his hits.

The most messy?

Garreth, definitely.

The most neat?

Though blind, Ominis. He makes a great effort to make sure his space is tidy and neat.

~

(May do another one of these at some point)

[jukey]

Blue Lock x Reader Headcanons

Bllk boys cooking for you!!

(nagi, reo, hiori, ness, isagi, chigiri)

let me knoe if yall want part 2 gang and with who🚨🏈🔥🦅🇺🇲

Nagi x Reader Headcanons

he suggested it at first, which was quite surprising knowing how lazy he is

said he wanted to do 'boyfriend things' for you (he doesn't even cook for himself)

he kept messing up in the kitchen, adding the wrong ingredients, setting the temperature too high

dont blame him, he always bought his own meals, this is new (he cant even tell spinach and mint apart)

you just knew it was going to taste horrible once he set your plate down

to your surprise, it actually tasted good, like really good

he didn't think much of it but felt fuzzy when you complimented him

better salvage the taste while you can 'cause this is the last time he'll be doing this

Reo x Reader Headcanons

oh!

he warned texted you beforehand that he was cooking tonight

reo grew up with all kinds of people working at his mansion so there was no need for him to learn how to cook

once you've accidentally taken some wrong buses to avoid going home it was time to face him (and his creation)

a very happy reo welcomed you and lead you to the dining table

he was wearing one of your aprons and you could've sworn you saw some burned food remnants smudged on it

you smiled in pain wholeheartedly when he brought you your plate (it looked like 4 diseases mixed up)

that quickly changed when he insisted on feeding you

with no way to hide the food or run away, you gave up

first bite in you felt your tongue going through the 5 stages of grief

he was so happy when you told him it tasted amazing (it tasted like battery acid)

(i like to think he sent you this before you went home)

Hiori x Reader Headcanons

he is such a sweetheart

he actually takes you out for dinner almost everyday

you suggested it to him first and he agreed (he got that 'everything to make you happy' mindset)

he saw it more like a challenge than doing something nice for you tho (its the actions that count shhh)

he just went with something simple so it wouldn't get too bad

he lied saying he put no effort into it, that its just something small he whipped up (he counted the amounts of salt grains he needed)

after that day he decided to test his cooking skills more often thanks to your words of praise

Ness x Reader Headcanons

AWW MY DAYS

you dont even need to ask him, he already cooks for you evey single day

and if he's busy that day, he'll make food at ungodly hours and wakes you up to eat

he absolutely LOVES it when you eat his food and then waits patiently for you to say what you think of it

i feel like he gets a burst of excitement when you tell him you love it, this is why he prefers you eat his food instead of anyone elses

he tries finding excuses to make you plenty of food

one time you came home to him celebrating you for being yourself, the person whom he loves<3 (he made a whole feast for you)

he even wants to be the one to bake you your own birthday cake (watch out before its a kaiser themed one)

Isagi x Reader Headcanons

he absolutely adores your cooking so this was quite a bit of a wasted opportunity thing for him

however, he seemed really focused while working on your food

he kept asking you for help and after a while you stopped and he just whined about how unfair that is

bro would ask for 3 hints like this is some kind of quiz

he was very nervous about bringing you your food (he almost wanted to trip on purpose)

the food wasnt that bad but missed a bit of flavour or something to strengthen the taste

ofcourse you didnt tell him that as the good person you are

was happy about you liking his food but wouldn't be open to trying this again

Chigiri x Reader Headcanons

he loved this idea a lot, even wanted to ask you to participate as a competition but eventually decided to go against it

he wants to be able to cook for his partner at all times if needed

he used to chat with his mom a lot while she was busy cooking so he learned a few things from watching her

he took quite some time on presenting the food, made sure it looked very appealing

he would make cute animal faces on it<33

it was so hard for you to take a bite when the food looked so cute, he giggled at this

it tasted great, you didn't get to eat everything because chigiri stole his food back

greedy smh

i want to be one of those justin bieber memes🤕

requests are open!!!

[thatsdemko]

confusion & confessions - c.pulisic

↳ I do not own this gif. this gif belongs to its rightful owner.

masterlist

v-day collection

requested: n

pairing: Christian pulisic x fem!reader

prompt: “Only if you promise to be my valentine.”

warnings: kinda short + one mention of a fling + anxiety(?)

a/n: this is part of my Valentine’s Day collection! remember if you want a Valentine’s Day imagine or blurb you need to submit it before February 28th, 2023!

it’s been six agonizing months with Christian where you had no clue what you were. you didn’t overstep any boundaries of your siutatuonship(if that’s even what you would call this) to cross the threshold of a relationship. he seemed to make no effort to make it clear what he wanted, while you constantly hinted at being bored of waiting.

there were many nights where Christian came to you and did things that made you think ‘finally we could get out of this’ but then things would return to the normal late night fling. it was exhausting fucking up your sleep schedule for a stupid American.

and to make all matters even more confusing, he asked you on a date for Valentine’s Day. so there you sat at your vanity, struggling to remain calm in a cloud of confusion. you’d be lying to say you didn’t grow feelings for him, because you did. there was something about his charm, humor, and appeal that just made him lovable. some nights you spent fighting sleep wishing he was occupying the cold empty space next to you.

finishing your makeup, you let out a long shaky breath before turning over your phone to see the time was just reaching of his arrival. your phone was set on ‘do not disturb’ to ignore all the incoming texts from your friends telling you not to go out with him. they hated seeing you like this, but he was the closest thing you ever had to a Valentine’s Day date. and you couldn’t turn down the opportunity to see him in a suit.

getting up from your vanity, you turned to the red dress that hung on a hook of the back of your bedroom door. you ran your fingers down the silk before slipping into it, to now admire yourself in it in your mirror. he was so incredibly lucky tonight. because if it weren’t for your desperation to be out on this day, you would’ve said no. he’s put you through too much torture you couldn’t bare it anymore. so yes, this was his last chance at you.

the soft knock on the door was enough to pull you away from the mirror and go open the front door to your apartment to see him standing there with a bouquet of roses in hand, “happy Valentine’s Day, y/n.” he stepped inside handing off the roses to you now, and you gladly took them. you noted to yourself that he looked handsome. the blue suit jacket and white collared shirt, it was a sight to send butterflies and chills.

“most sex buddies usually just send them a link to an STI check, but this is more thoughtful.” you pressed a soft and quick kiss to his cheek before heading off to find a vase to place them in.

he scoffed at your words, thinking you were much more than that to him. even if he had a hard time expressing it, he really did like you. he just was horrible at saying it. his sister had to remind him that women are not mind readers.

“come on, aren’t we more than that?” he asked following you into your kitchen, where you ran the water for the fresh flowers to be soaked in.

looking up, you were met with his beautiful chocolate colored eyes, they were engulfed by your every movement, he just couldn’t remove them from you. it was your turn to scoff now shaking your head, “I don’t know, you never give me a clear sign.”

his eyes widen feeling taken back. he may not have been as emotionally intelligent as you were, but he thought he made it clear. he could recall the amount of times he came to your rescue at 3am, and the amount of times he’s begged for you at the ungodly hour. your ideas of quality time were both different, but it didn’t mean he didn’t like you any less. he just could never get the words off his chest.

sighing now, he ran his fingers through his hair, anxiously, “I guess that’s my fault. I do like you, and that’s why I asked you to go out with me tonight. so will you be my girlfriend?” his words sent an enormous amount of relief and excitement through your body. you could finally relax hearing those words. it made a smile spread big across your face.

you moved from the other side of the kitchen to him. your lips met for a quick second before you pulled away, “only if you promise to be my Valentine?”

“oh absolutely.”

[stardew-obsessed-ora]

GIVE ME SOME OF YOUR MORRIS HEADCANNONS I NEED THEM IN MY LIFEEEEE B]]]]]]]

HIIIII! TYSM FOR INQUIRING ON MY HCS! I'LL GLADLY FLING THEM AT YOU AT A VELOCITY IN WHICH NOBODY SHOULD BE PELTED BY WORDS :D (they're going to be neatly organized under the cut). I would've gotten to this sooner but life nerfed my ability to get to things within what I consider a reasonable time. I'm doing General HCs + a few dating HCs that have been sitting on my brain for a while. I'd like to note that a few of these are a bit on the angsty side? Nothing too bad, but yk yk.

Word Count: 707 words!

im sorry if this is long, I have NO idea what tends to be seen as an acceptable length for these kinds of things KAHAHAH. Regardless, I hope you enjoy them and tysm again for feeding into my brainrot. B)

・୨・┈┈┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈┈┈・୧・

₊꒷︶ HCs Babey WOOHOOOO

˚⊹Morris is around 5'9, but he likes claiming he's around an inch or two taller. If you call him down on this bluff he gets visibly annoyed

-He's literally blind as a bat oh my god. You take this mans glasses away and you've taken away his ability to perceive the world as anything but splotches. If you were to take away his glasses he'd playfully pout then grab them whilst squinting in such an exaggerated fashion (but to him it isn't exaggerated at all. he's doing the best he can to see literally any part of you)

๑‧˚Morris is quite expressive, hyper-expressive even. He practically has an expression reserved for just about every situation you could think of. Its honestly impressive.

-Morris finds it hilarious to sneak up behind Pierre during random points and go "womp womp", and a variety of other similar, ill-fitting noises. To which he is chased off. It's one of the many tiny things he finds a surprising amount of pleasure in.

˚⊹ While Morris wasn't aware of the valley's existence as a child, I do imagine he was actually from a small town somewhere in Bavaria. That's right! I imagine Morris as Bavarian! If you catch him while he's still waking up, there's a chance he'll mutter something to you in Stardew's equivalent of Bavarian-German before snapping awake and correcting it to the English equivalent. He's bilingual, and he's fluent in both English and Bavarian-German.

-Morris has an accent, but he's able to try to limit it as much as possible in order to appeal more to the audience of Pelican Town.

ʚɞ There are aspects of the southern Pelican Town accent he's picked up on. He's like a sponge when it comes to mimicking accents, and as a result, he's also a sponge when it comes to inevitably picking up on the ways people say words differently in Pelican Town. At times, he's slipped up and said certain words in the Pelican Town way™. Yes, it's broken his customer service voice. Yes, he's sobbed over that.

"Over there sits our wonderful Joja Brand™ warsher n' dryer."

"..."

"Yes."

-Morris is ungodly out of touch. Some of the younger workers at his store have shared memes in their company group chat that they totally have because I willed it into existence and he's replied with either "????" or "haha (he's confused and doesn't get it)" You could trick this man into numerous deez nuts jokes if you felt particularly evil. I'm dead serious. It'd go something like this.

"Why, hello farmer! Are you visiting in hopes to talk about that Joja Membership? Or was there something else you were interested in bringing up?"

"Yeah, so I thought Soona worked here? Soona Orlada?"

"Soona Orlada? I haven't heard of t-"

"Soona or Later you're gonna see deez nu-"

"get OUT." He says, eyebrow twitching as he tries not to drop the customer service smile.

˚⊹He has self-confidence issues, regardless of how much bravado he likes showing to the residents of Pelican town and especially to Pierre. He often doubts his own abilities, and questions very often why things haven't turned in his favor despite how much effort he's put into his job and his work. He finds himself burnt out extremely often and ends up sitting at home sulking over another day stuck in a repetitive cycle with no change. Despite this, he knows the next day over he'll force a smile on his face and go about his life the exact same way he always has.

๑‧˚ For a long time, Morris was in heavy denial over just how bad the situation he was caught in was. He was in denial over just how strenuous his own job was, and was in denial over how overworked he was. Along with this, I imagine he was in denial over everything he had been doing wrong in his position. Having corporate constantly breathing down your neck over your specific district performing well clouds your judgement. At first, he'd shoot down any remarks about this. I imagine he reacts poorly to criticism from people he feels aren't adequate or in a position to be commenting on his performance, but he takes it into consideration regardless. After a few more confrontations, I imagine he takes steps to try and improve the working conditions of the little JojaMart he's under. It isn't until Post-Community Center that he actually realizes he's been treated poorly by Joja as well. He'd feel betrayed, but I imagine he'd feel lost and at a standstill on what to do next. Realistically, he'd probably continue to work for them for as long as he could unless a better opportunity reared its head.

-I like imagining Morris as a bit of a foodie. Dude absolutely knows the best restaurants in the Ferngill republic, and absolutely enjoys a good meal. Unfortunately, due to having such a demanding job, he hasn't been able to visit any of them in god knows how long. He's had to live on those incessant Joja Microwaveable Dinners for an unspeakable amount of time (he needs help). I reckon offering up home cooked meals to him is one of the fastest ways to his heart.

₊꒷In a relationship I imagine Morris to be kind of like a cat slowly warming up to his partner. He's been lonely for most of his life, and while he's touch starved, I don't think he'd be all that used to giving or receiving affection. In fact, I like imagining that for the first little bit while he's warming up to dating he gets all red faced over any gentle touch. Heaven forbid you kiss the guy while he's still getting used to things LMJKSDHKS. He's moreso one to give words of affirmation or gifts than gentle embraces during the first little bit of a relationship. Once he warms up, however, I imagine he gives ungodly nice cuddles and gentle kisses whenever he sees his S/O. Of course, that isn't to say he doesn't still prefer surprising his lover with little gifts here and there.

ʚɞ When Morris gets particularly embarrassed or flustered I imagine he likes to look away and push his glasses against his face, acting like he's unphased, or he hides his face with his arm or his hand. It's a huge habit of his and he's definitely done it unintentionally when the farmer shoots down something he says or one of his Joja-Related endeavors.

-Morris enjoys carefully planned, thought out home dates or picnic dates as opposed to anything extravagant. Sure, he adores a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant, but seeing his S/O put so much effort into making sure he has a good time... it absolutely warms his heart. Bonus if they plan some kind of stargazing date with all kinds of things to do beforehand. At first, the concept and appeal confuses him, but the fact that they found such joy in it... he starts enjoying it as well.

₊꒷Morris cries whenever he feels an excessive amount of just about any emotion. If someone were to get him a little overly happy he'd start tearing up then apologize. If he gets too comfortable with his S/O in bed he starts to tear up. No, he doesn't know why. No, don't feel bad. He's literally in heaven. Cloud nine, even. Similarly, I imagine him as one of those angry criers. He gets absolutely pissed off and you just see him start to tear up before screaming at someone then apologizing.

๑‧˚ He enjoys plushies. I'm not expanding on why I think this I just think he'd like a cute squishmallow. He wouldn't show his enjoyment openly but you know damn well he'd have it with him in bed every night. A little buddy, if you will. If he's caught with it he chucks that shit out of view then apologizes to it privately later.

[uchihaharlot]

Shsjdjdj Imagine, you want something back from Shisui that he borrowed from you, so you sneak into his room to get it, but you hear him coming so you hide in his closet, and him and Itachi come in and are just talking, and then they start making out and stuff, and your just watching from the closet, and and and and maybe they secretly know your there and fuck each other infront of you or something like that- my brain all over for this one - also yes that was all one sentence. Fight me.

Oooo. I love this. It’s no secret Shisui can be sort of inadvertently be a kleptomaniac. It’s not malicious by any means. He just is really bad at returning things to people.

NSFW; some hot ass Shisui and Itachi; read for the details.

— So when he borrowed your favorite book. You instantaneously knew that prying it from his hands would be problematic. Not in sense that he would purposely withhold your belongings.

— But his room in a fucking mess. Aside from the rest of his house; yes you absolutely tore through it—nicely of course. The last place was his bedroom. You feared for your book and your sanity on its retrieval. Aside from the empty cans of water, and the various energy drink. You couldn’t find your book.

— Even checking under his mattress, nothing. Then you heard footsteps enclosing at an alarming rate. He was supposed to be out training with Itachi, this put a wrench in your recon mission. The second they enter the room its hushed whispers, you fortunately ended up in his closet. Chakra concealed, crouched beneath a pile of sweaty ass training clothes. Mundane words of clan business between the two as usual.

— Then silence, followed by the unforgettable sound of lips touching and soft panting. More hushed whispers, but you distinctly hear Shisui say, ‘you’re gonna get it for that little number earlier.’ Your curious eyes and hands lifted at the god knows what you used to cover your face, and holy shit. The immaculate amount of arousal spread through your body was embarrassingly high. This…this was not expected, but also not surprising. Extremely welcoming though.

— Your own Uchiha show. They worked fast, Shisui lazily stroked Itachi’s cock in one hand as the other worked his own. How would Fugaku feel knowing the clan heir was getting plowed by his best friend? Surely he wouldn’t be as excited as you. It was hot, two of the most attractive men in this clan just going at one another’s throats. Sucking and nibbling each other. Then Shisui forcing Itachi to his knees and tapping his cock against eagerly parting lips. Roughly shoving it in Itachi’s mouth eliciting him to gag. It was almost unfair how good he was at it.

— You clearly had died. This was the only sane conclusion, Shisui came home and mistaken you for an intruder and killed you without it registering. But no, it wasn’t, because the sound of Shisui’s deep moaning matched the fervent mouth pace Itachi had on his cock. Your eyes did not deceive you. Yep, this was real. It was happening, no matter. Hidden in your stuffy sanctuary, this was one thing you could see to the end and if you hand ended up in your pants. It was merely a coincidence.

— Your excitement only grew as Shisui lifted Itachi to a searing kiss, pushed him on the bed and slicked an ungodly amount of lube over his length. Itachi’s desperate effort to pull his pants down was just fast enough for Shisui to breach his waiting hole. That alone had you on the verge of climax. Your own mouth almost betrayed you with a moan. You had to stop, allow the buildup to simmer down. Watched as Shisui wrung Itachi’s beautiful hair in one hand and smack his ass with the other. Hard thrusts that made Itachi moan in falsetto. Even not touching yourself you could almost cum.

— Yet, it was endearing. They had been doing this for a while, there was no way that either one weren’t familiar with each other under these circumstances. Shisui towered over Itachi’s back side. Hand expertly stroking his cock, the way Itachi and Shisui looked at one another in this moment was ethereal. And there was that damn hand of yours. Playing tribute to yourself, matching as best you could to Shisui tenderly plowing Itachi. Their loud moaning turned into soft panting. More hushed whispers, ‘I’m close’ and ‘don’t stop.’ Had you reeling in pleasure.

— The resounding groan that Shisui let out, his hips jutting. Your eyes couldn’t keep up. Itachi milked by Shisui’s hand as his thrusts tapered and eventually stopped. The heat of your own climax felt dirty, but why should you care? It wasn’t like they heard you. Or saw you.

— A snug grin spread Shisui’s mouth. “I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.” Which, to your surprise. You though he was talking to Itachi. But when he looked behind him, it seemed that Itachi was as just as perplexed as you were.

— It was comical to at you tried to cover yourself in his smelly clothes again. Shisui wasn’t having any of it, opening the closet doors. A bewildered Itachi in the background, Shisui more amused than anything. “Next time, you’ll join us.”

— “Uh.” Where was that stupid mouth of yours when you needed it? “I came for my book.” Shisui didn’t doh t that, you were stingy with your belongings. It wasn’t his laugh that made your stomach disappear, but rather when he said. “I gave that back to you two weeks ago.”

— “Oh. Really?” Yea; you did. You hounded him for it. You usually didn’t forget these things; but there had been so much going on you forgot about it. “My bad.”

— It was a good thing Shisui was so chill. Helped you up and spun you around into the center of his room. Itachi was less than pleased that you had seen one of his darkest secrets. He was more irate with Shisui for knowing you had been there all along.

— “You owe me.” Itachi slapped his back, Shisui snickers. “You owe Itachi too.” Which wasn’t what he was getting at. “Don’t go too far after tomorrows training.”

— With that you nodded silently and made you way out the window.

[britcision]

Hey, you know what turned out to be super a lot of fun? Writing Mithrun from other peoples’ perspectives.

You know what else is a huge amount of fun? Badass evil ladies 👀 I fucking love Cithis she’s the worst

Will be posting this and other lil ficlets over on AO3! Link is at the bottom, I’m just… drastically failing at “short” so far 😅

(I just have a lot of feelings okay?)

Warnings: some mild dehumanization, because this is Cithis’ POV, and Cithis doesn’t think of others as people

Summary: Dramatic gestures are all well and good, but four in the morning is another matter entirely. Mithrun’s used to one particular person tending to his needs; unfortunately, Cithis values her sleep.

Maybe not quite as much as a chance to finally mess with her captain though. Budding Kabumisu

—————————

After Dinner Mints - Afterthoughts

“Cithis.”

Brows furrowing in irritation, Cithis rolled over, tugging the absolutely tragic excuse for a blanket that the Canaries allowed around her tighter and burrowed in.

“Cithis.”

Her name, again, and she considered folding the pillow over her ears, still hazy with sleep.

“Cithis.”

She was going to kill Fleki. Maybe make Lycion do it. Or Otta, or anyone really, honestly, she just wanted to sleep…

“Cithis.”

But the captain would just stand there all night, saying her name in that damn monotone. Probably had been for a while, before it woke her up. Honestly, she counted herself lucky when he respected her request not to just shake her.

It was inconsiderate, honestly. He’d have to have passed all three of the others to reach her, and casting spells always woke her up. It ruined her chances of getting back to sleep, where as Fleki could pop off any number of minor spells and, as Cithis was painfully aware, be snoring again in moments.

“Cithis.”

Yes, this was Fleki’s fault. And Cithis’s rest would be avenged.

Stifling a sigh, she reached for her bells and rolled over, not surprised to see the captain’s shadowy figure looming over her cot. The soft smile came to her lips without effort; that part had always been easy.

“Do you need another sleeping spell, Captain? Lie down now,” she only half asked, the chant already spilling out before her.

Honestly, she didn’t care if he dropped where he stood. So long as he didn’t fall on her.

“No.”

The magic died before it could form, and Cithis bit back a sharp hiss of irritation.

She hated that limitation, the shackle around her power that put her at the beck and call of these pathetic little wardens. The ones not loved enough by their wealthy and powerful families to keep them from a life of pain and drudgery.

And they still dared think they were better than her. When they hadn’t even earned their place.

Resigning herself to whatever the hell the captain wanted now, she forced herself to sit up, and give him her best “obedient servant” smile. Well, the best she could manage at this ungodly hour.

It wasn’t like the captain cared.

“What, then, Captain?” She asked, taking the time to actually look at him.

He looked… her brows dipped down again, frown crumpling the smile almost at once.

He looked… bad. Captain Mithrun usually did, especially on the days where she or Lycion couldn’t be bothered to make him presentable. But even dishevelled, exhausted, covered in blood, she’d never seen him look like this. It set her on edge.

And it gradually dawned on her that even though by his standards Mithrun was practically well dressed in a sleeping tunic and absolutely no filth… he looked worried.

She’d never seen him worry before.

The petulant pouting, that was nothing new, and frankly quite adorable. Annoyed, bored, satisfied, apathetic, she’d seen a lot on what most insisted was a blank face because they couldn’t be bothered to actually look.

But never this, uncertainty, worry, perhaps even fear writ large on his features and in the twisting of the tunic between his hands.

That couldn’t possibly bode well for her.

Setting her legs off the side of the cot to make a space, she pointed to it firmly, letting a little more command slip into her tone. A soft voice often worked for Mithrun, but when he was recalcitrant sometimes he needed authority.

“Sit.”

He folded immediately, dropping gracelessly to sit beside her on the creaky little cot. He didn’t seem to be injured at least, although he rarely bothered acknowledging it if he was. Better to be sure.

“Do you need a healing spell?” She asked, not bothering to prepare the magic this time. If he did, he could wait. If he didn’t, the less she had to deal with the damn leash the better.

The Captain shook his head, hesitated, and then… sunk in on himself.

Also not good.

Reaching out, Cithis gripped his chin firmly and turned his head to face her.

He looked lost, and while he was usually unfocused if they weren’t on a mission, it was never with this much vulnerability. And while she’d once thought she’d like to see that from him, see him actually begin to care about something, it was unsettling.

Not least because she couldn’t imagine what had caused it.

Humming a short note, she released him and nodded.

“Tell me what you need, Captain,” she urged him gently.

Captain Mithrun opened his mouth. Closed it again. Just as she was beginning to wonder if she’d need to enchant him just to get a fucking answer, he sucked in a sharp breath and spoke.

“I don’t feel anything.”

Taking a breath, Cithis consciously smoothed her frown away this time. Impatience had never moved the captain before, except to raise his own. And she just plain didn’t have the patience to deal with that right now.

“And that’s a problem?” It had never been before, so she was expecting maybe a sharp look, and then some more information.

She wasn’t expecting him to turn to her, his eye wide and empty.

“Yes. I…” he hesitated, looking out past her and to the rest of the tent. Cithis waited about as patiently as she felt capable of for him to find the thought.

Or give up and let her knock him out again.

“I don’t… you said there would be new desires. But there haven’t been in forty years. It takes… so much to keep moving. To eat, to sleep, and I don’t feel anything. I don’t even want to. I don’t even want to lie down and die. There’s just nothing.” He sounded almost calm, with the same lack of inflection, except… he actually sounded tired.

Another new not-improvement.

Cithis was surprised to find she was actually almost sad. In as much as she felt anything for anyone, she rather liked the captain.

He was certainly the best warden she’d ever had, even if she couldn’t just twist him to her needs and leave. Most of the spoiled rich brats the Canaries were saddled with made her sick; born into money and privilege, half of them having the first cold meal of their lives with the force.

Mithrun was… well, at the very least always entertaining, even if it wasn’t the kind of entertainment she preferred. You couldn’t humiliate someone who didn’t feel shame, and she’d only ever had one whim he hadn’t indulged, even though he’d apparently been able to resist any of them at any time.

He was… a broken, damaged thing. Usually Cithis very much enjoyed the act of breaking things herself, but she did know how to take care of what belonged to her.

Captain Mithrun had been given to her, body and soul, and while he wasn’t fit to be a proper plaything he was still very useful. Seeing him fall apart had hurt her more than she’d admit even to herself.

Or maybe it was just knowing that she hadn’t been the one to cause it, or been able to do a damn thing about it. She hated other people taking her things.

She hadn’t been able to pull him out of it, either; hadn’t been able to think of a way to try. Not before that little… ah.

Cithis had always had a gift for spotting a person’s weakness.

Reaching out, she covered the hands still twisting through his sleeping tunic to still them. The question was, if he even knew it.

“I’m sorry, Captain, but I don’t see where this is different,” she said carefully, keeping her voice light. By all accounts, the captain couldn’t read other people for shit to spot a lie on his own, but why take the risk? “What has changed to make this a problem?”

And if she was just a little relieved to see a far more familiar look of annoyance flash across his face, he didn’t need to know that either.

“There is nothing I want now. The demon is gone, and I’m not,” he said sharply, and she didn’t bother curbing her smile.

“That was true two days ago, Captain. Yet you got up. What has changed?” She repeated a little more firmly, searching his face intently for any kind of recognition.

Sullenness pulled across his features and he slumped back, folding his arms across his chest.

“Nothing. That is the problem.”

Hiding from her? He’d never hidden before.

Maybe there was something good at the root of this after all, if the captain was going to become more… interesting. She’d not had a new plaything of her own since she’d been given him, or more accurately since she’d realized just how little he actually cared for himself.

And if this surge of passion turned out to be the temporary reprieve and he sank back into motionless, well, she’d just have to enjoy him while she could.

Of course, just giving him the answers wouldn’t be nearly as fun.

Her tiredness wasn’t even feigned as she sighed, slotting her legs back onto the cot behind him and lying down again.

“I’m sorry, Captain, I’m afraid I’m just not sure what you want. Perhaps I’m just too tired… shall we talk more in the morning? When you’ve had more time to gather your thoughts?” She asked sweetly, and yes, there was that irritation again.

That little flash of petulance that only the proximity of a dungeon had dragged out of him before. Honestly, him even taking the initiative to come find her at all was beginning to look like part of a lovely new pattern.

Maybe there was a new desire already forming… at least the desire to have a desire, which she supposed would be a new feeling to almost anyone. Yes, this next part was going to be very entertaining.

A fun little thought occurred to her, and she held the blanket open for him.

“Why don’t you sleep here, Captain? I can cast you another sleeping spell, and then if things are clearer in the morning you can tell me immediately,” she offered with her most innocent, sunny smile.

And if she cast a strong enough spell, he would certainly be asleep past the time his little tallman would come looking for him. And she’d have a lovely front row seat for the show.

The look Captain Mithrun gave her was… honestly, as sceptical as it always was when she put in the effort to be charming with him. He wasn’t a stupid little thing, just incredibly unbothered.

“I don’t always need sleeping spells,” he grumbled to himself, and oh Cithis knew this was going to be fun. He’d never cared about the method of his sleep before.

Still, he obediently lay down beside her, tucked in on his side until they were touching from shoulder to ankles to both fit on the narrow cot. Cithis considered curling a leg around his waist, both for her own comfort and to see what his… Kabru would do.

That could wait for morning.

She did wrap the arm holding her staff around him though, partially for easier spell casting and partially so neither of them fell off the cot. A rare moment of mercy moved her, and she let her lips press gently against the back of his head for a moment, her voice low.

“After all, Captain… tallmen hardly live for any time at all. Even if you never have another desire for as long as he lives, that isn’t so long to wait.”

The captain stiffened in her arms, but didn’t stop her from murmuring the incantantion this time, and with a gentle jingle of her bells he slumped back into sleep.

Making a mental note to find out just how old Kabru was (and how long tallmen actually did live anyway), Cithis settled down and relaxed as much as she could, waiting to join him.

Casting spells always did wake her up, but at least now she had something interesting to occupy her while she settled.

Perhaps Fleki had had a point, and it might be worth being released on the captain’s recognizance, even if he was planning to stay in this backwater country. After all, she was his caretaker. And she’d need a front row seat to whatever disaster Captain Mithrun’s attempts at flirtation were going to be.

She’d have to make sure that Fleki was also released to stay with them, of course. That would be the start of a fitting punishment for her lost sleep.

—————

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[softestqueeen]

a kiss at midnight

pairing: miguel o’hara x reader

summary: You and your boyfriend Miguel O’Hara had a fight about his working hours and how you felt he didn’t put enough effort into your relationship. You haven’t talked to him in days and were growing more frustrated by the minute. But when the annual New Years Party of the tower is coming up, you see the perfect opportunity to make him jealous.

warnings: 18+ MDNI!! p in v sex, hand job, possessive and jealous behaviour, unprotected sex, hickeys

wordcount: 2077 words

a/n: Happy New Year! I hope you're starting good into the new year! I spontaneously decided to write this, so I hope it isn't to bad. Enjoy <3

Five days. It had been five days since your fight with Miguel and five days since you last spoke to him or seen him. You thought he was being unreasonable. You told him what bothered you and what would happen if he didn’t put more effort into your relationship. There were phases where you only saw him once a week and that was definitely not enough for you. And that’s what you told him.

But he did not like that at all.

He tried to argue with you, but you were having none of it, so he put on his jacket and left, murmuring something about a work emergency.

You haven’t seen him since.

But now is the perfect opportunity to show him what he would be missing if he left you. Today was the annual New Years Party of the tower and you knew Miguel would be attending. What he didn’t know: you would be too.

You put on you most scandalous dress that you knew would drive him insane, spent an ungodly amount of time on your makeup, and put your hair in a slightly mess updo, to emphasize your neck. You were ready for battle.

You arrived at the tower with your best friend Gwen who encouraged your little game. You entered the tower and had to stop for a second to admire the decorations. It looked so different to how it normally does, you wouldn’t have recognised it.

A waiter handed you and Gwen each a glass of champagne, which you gratefully accepted.

You were looking around and found immediately what you were searching for. Miguel O’Hara was 6’9 mountain of meat and muscle, currently dressed in a tight smoking. You could see his fangs slightly glistening even from a distance. His red eyes seem to be glowing in the dark setting and his hair was slicked back, even though a few strands were hanging into his eyes and onto his forehead. He looked absolutely delicious.

But you did too, and you were on a mission. You knew it wouldn’t take long for him to notice you; his enhanced senses would smell your perfume probably in the next few moments.

You and Gwen went onto the dancefloor with cheshire cat like grins on your faces. It was still early, only 10 o’clock, so there was still enough time until midnight, but you were in the mood to tease him already. You and Gwen started dancing and soon, you could feel Miguels eyes on you.

Miguel didn’t even know you were here. He thought maybe you were out with friends, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

There you were on the dancefloor, moving your hips and body in sync with the music. Gwen was next to you, her movements similar but to Miguel no one could compare to you.

He excused himself from the conversation he was supposed to be listening to right now, but now he had something more import on his hands. He went to sit at the bar, which had a perfect view of the dancefloor, and ordered himself a whiskey, which he downed in one go.

The burn of the liquor was just what he needed to cool down a bit. He didn’t have a lot of time to relax though, as he saw that two young and admittedly handsome men had started talking to you and Gwen. He decided to give it a moment, as he was sure you would send them away.

But oh boy, was he wrong.

After you talked for a bit, the four of you started to dance. Which was nothing to worry about, but Miguel noticed that one of the bastards was slowly coming a bit too close for his liking. He put one of his hands on your waist and whispered something in your ear, which made you throw back your head with laughter.

Miguel almost broke the glass in his hand when he saw how you started to flirt back and dance with the stranger.

He knew exactly what you were trying to do, and he hated how it was working.

You knew that this was going to drive him insane. You also knew how possessive he was and how easily he got jealous. He knew how you loved it when he showed others who you belonged to, so this was downright torture for him. There was nothing he’d rather do than whisk you away right now, but he knew he fucked up.

He never wanted to fight with you, but he was tired and overworked. He said some things that he was really not proud of, and it broke his heart that he hurt you. He planned on apologizing but wasn’t sure how to. Even though he talked about his emotions more often with you, it was still hard for him sometimes.

But he also realised that these 5 days without you were the five worst days of his life. He missed you, not knowing if you were well or what you were up to, made him realise just how much he loves you. Of course, he sometimes didn’t see you for multiple days, but you always kept each other up to date, you texted or called. But now there was radio silence.

He knew what you were doing with that sinful dress, those eyes that were exenterated by make up, your plump red lips and that hair that showed him your beautiful neck. He was desperate, but he knew he couldn’t cave just yet.

He decided he would get some fresh air and try to cool down. He knew that if he didn’t take a break now, he would do something he would regret. Ok, maybe he wouldn’t regret it, but you’d be even madder at him, and he couldn’t afford that right now.

The moment you were sure that Miguel left the room, you and Gwen excused yourselves from the two men and went to the bathroom.

“Do you think he’s jealous enough or should we torture him a bit more?”, Gwen asked you with a smile while reapplying her lipstick. She and the stranger definitely had some fun.

“I don’t know, I think he’s learned his lesson. We can back down a bit now.”, you answered her. You looked down at you phone that there was only about half an hour until midnight.

The two of you went into the main room again and started to talk a bit with a few colleagues of Gwen and Miguel, that you’ve met at parties before. It felt like the time was racing and soon it was almost midnight. You hoped you could talk it out with Miguel before then and kiss at midnight, but you were slowly losing hope.

Midnight was coming closer and closer, and you excused yourself from the conversation to find Miguel. Even if you didn’t talk it out now, you’d like to see him before the year ended.

It was now harder to find him, more people seemed to have joined the party. You were moving through the crowd, nearing the bar, hoping you would catch a glimpse of him from the higher point of view.

Once you’ve reached the bar you were looking around frantically for Miguel but still couldn’t see him. You could already hear the countdown in the background when you suddenly spotted him. He was sitting at the bar, and could sense you being near him, so he looked up to you.

Your bright eyes made contact with his red ones, and you rushed forwards.

You fell into his arms, and he caught you with ease. You leaned you face upwards and pressed your lips to his. And just when the countdown finished, and the fireworks started the two of you kissed.

The light of the fireworks illuminated the sky, and the bright colours also illuminated the two of you.

You couldn’t believe it; you finally got your midnight kiss and even though you knew you still had a lot to talk about you knew it was going to be all right.

“I’m so sorry, hermosa. I should have listened to you and not have abandoned you. Those five days where I didn’t know if you were all right, where you were or what you were doing were hell. Even Gwen didn’t wanna tell me how you were. I promise you that in this new year I will be better. If you’ll have me of course.”, Miguel confessed.

“Oh Miguel, of course I’ll forgive. I just wanted to be sure that we were both in it for the same.  I love you.”, you told him.

“I love you too!”

The two of you shared another kiss that was quickly getting heated. You could feel Miguels hands roaming your body and his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth.

You pulled away to get some air into your lungs and suggested: “How about we go somewhere a little more private, Miggy.”

You knew that nickname never failed to rile him up. He didn’t bother answering you and pulled you by the hand in the direction if the elevator. Once inside, he picked you and pressed you against the wall, while you wrapped your legs around his toned waist. You kissed again until you heard the quiet beep of the elevator that signalled your arrival. Miguel carried you to his office and opened the door without putting you down.

He carried you to his desk and sat you on top of it, before entangling your tongue into another kiss. You dress was slowly riding up and barely covering you anymore. Miguels hands travelled underneath it and you could feel him groan into your mouth when he noticed that you were not wearing any underwear. He pressed his clothed bulge against your now exposed cunt, which was getting wetter and wetter by the moment.

Miguel pushed your dress up, so it only covered you to your waist, your hips and pussy now completely exposed. While you were still kissing, you adjusted yourself so you could open his belt and trousers.

You reached into his underwear and pulled out his leaking cock. You pulled away to look at it while you started to stroke his cock. He put his head against your shoulder and started to kiss your exposed grin while groaning.

You sped up your movements and he put your hand in his to stop you from stroking.

“If you continue like this hermosa, this will be over way too soon.”, he rasped into your ear.

You just nodded and let him guide his cock to your entrance. That little kissing made you wetter than you wanted to admit, but you were glad that he could sink inside of you so easily.

When he started to push inside of you, you both let out a simultaneous moan. You both knew that you didn’t have a lot of time, so Miguel wasted no time and started to thrust into you like it was the last time he would ever get the chance to. You both moaned and groaned, relieved to be reunited.

Miguel started to suck hickeys into your neck, and you could feel his cool fangs against your heated skin. You were both embarrassingly close to your highs, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was the fact that the two of you were here, together.

You could feel Miguels cock twitching inside of you and when he started to hit that sweet spot inside of you, you couldn’t hold back anymore and came with a shout.

When Miguel felt you clamping around his cock, he couldn’t control himself anymore either, and came with a groan into your neck, painting your walls white.

You missed the weight of him inside of you and the way you could feel his cum inside of you and ultimately feel it dripping out of you.

The two of you basked in the warmth of the moment a bit more, before Miguel pulled out of you. You whined at the loss, but he was quick to soothe you with a dizzying kiss.

He helped you put your dress on again before he tucked himself inside his trousers again.

You made eye contact with each other and knew you had to get back to the party. Honestly though, you didn’t mind it, because you knew that from now on the two of you would never be in such misery again.

a/n: i hope you liked this, if so please leave some notes, likes, reblogs and comments! feedback is very appreciated!

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[adiluv]

♡ JOHN DOE + PROMPTS 13 / 22. ˚⊹꒷

﹕₊˚ʚ🌹ɞ・[word count] total ─ 1511; prompt 13 ─ 693; prompt 22 ─ 818.

﹕₊˚ʚ🍷ɞ・[warnings] yandere character [technically; no yandere behavior demonstrated], not edited/proofread.

﹕₊˚ʚ🖤ɞ・[adi moment] first part of the event! I accidentally wrote the wrong prompt while working on a request, though i decided to just do another prompt alongside it instead of letting what i’d already written go to waste! regardless, i hope that you enjoy! ꒰ ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ꒱ 

this is a part of my 200 follower / valentine's day event! if you're interested, you can view the rules for requesting on this post!

♡ prompt 13 / rom-coms. ˚⊹꒷

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・I imagine that Doe, being as romantically obsessed as he is, loves rom-coms. Honestly, with his entire character, I doubt that anybody could ever even convince me otherwise. This isn’t something that would happen after he met you, either. From the moment Doe found out about romance and rom-coms in general, I’m sure that he would watch them religiously. I’m talking to the point where you could bring up (pretty much) any rom-com to exist - whether it be from the Valley or otherwise, and he would somehow know it and have watched it. It doesn’t matter how new or old they are, either.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Not to mention the fact that his obsession with the genre manages to grow even larger once Valentine’s Day gets closer. He’s practically like one of those massive Christmas fans that turn the months leading up to the holiday into a part of it. And a part of that, to him, is watching as many rom-coms he can before you pull him away from the screen. Because, yes, there have been plenty of times where you’ve gotten home at ungodly hours of the night to find his eyes practically touching the screen as he rewatches a rom-com for what seems like the 100th time. (It certainly doesn’t help that he won't turn on any lights, and you usually don’t know he’s there until you see his silhouette in front of the TV or until he jumps behind you to greet you.)

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Regardless, he would be eternally grateful if you decided to indulge him by watching a few with him. It doesn’t matter what your opinion is about the genre itself or how many of them you’ve seen, Doe would do his best to make the experience as enjoyable as possible for the both of you. He’d probably even pull out a whole collection of them, showing them all to you and letting you choose which ones to watch. There are some that he dislikes, and will actively exclude from the watching pile because he sees them as that bad, but aside from that he’s willing to give you as much control as you want. He’d also be happy to give you some recommendations if you’re unsure what to start with, and I genuinely believe he’d put a lot of effort into finding one he thinks you’d like.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Although I imagine Doe being the type of person to want to go all out on the actual day, I doubt that he’d mind just staying indoors all day with you and binging rom-coms. I mean, considering the large amount of titles that he knows, it really wouldn’t be difficult to find anything to watch, either. (If anything, you two could probably pull an all-nighter watching them without even making a dent in the pile that he has to offer you.) It would probably even be a great date idea if the weather turned out to be rainy that day, since it would be rather inconvenient to try doing something super crazy and risk Doe losing his fake body. Honestly, as long as he’s spending time with you, he truly wouldn’t mind.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・As for Doe’s personal preferences on rom-coms, I think that he would enjoy those overly-romantic ones. Yeah. I’m talking cheesy enough to give you the sudden and irresistible urge to leave the room from how overly cute they are. If you’re the type to openly react to them, I honestly feel that he would take a small amount of joy in laughing at your reactions. They’re cute! He enjoys them, even though he might not get why you’re reacting the way that you do. 

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・I also think that he’d like rom-coms that share some similarities with your relationship! (You’d be surprised at how many Uncanny Valley rom-coms mention time loops… you’re starting to think that they’re not really an uncommon occurrence.) You have no idea how happy he feels when he sees something that reminds him of the two of you. He’d love to watch those with you and reminisce on the ways that your relationship has developed, and it’s honestly a pretty cute sight. He practically has hearts in his eyes.

♡ prompt 22 / "i cooked something for you!" ˚⊹꒷

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・On the topic of Doe and Valentine’s Day (and the idea of him putting as much effort as possible), I do think that he would still try to do something incredibly special for you, regardless of what your plans are for the actual day. He’s grateful to have you around, so he needs a way to show it! And, sure, while he’s absolutely more than willing to use his powers - namely, his psychokinesis - to take you out on the best dates you’ve ever had, it’s not exactly a viable option to him if you decide to snuggle up beside him in the familiar warmth of your apartment.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・He takes some time to try and come up with ideas, looking all around the apartment for anything that he could use to accomplish his goal. He’d even try visiting some stores in the city, trying to see if he could find any nice flowers or gifts that might make a good present. Except for the fact that he can’t. Because by the time you both realize you’d rather sit at home, it’s already gotten close enough to the holiday that most of the good gifts have already been taken, making it difficult for Doe to use his powers when he isn’t even aware of the gift options available to him. And it’s not that he doesn’t try, either. He absolutely does. But somehow, none of the people he manages to… ‘convince’ have anything of interest. The only things that he manages to acquire are a few bags of teeth, though they aren’t really something you enjoy receiving - a fact he’s learned from experience.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・He panics the day before Valentine’s when he realizes that there’s only a few hours before you return from your shift at the gas station and he’s still empty handed. That is, until he passes by the kitchen and realizes you talking about the power of cooking within human culture. Specifically, the power of going out of your way to cook something special for a special someone. After watching the cooking channel for about an hour and sneaking off to the grocery store to get ingredients (some of which being entirely different from what the recipe asks of him), he returns home and barely has enough time to hide them. You can tell that he’s hiding something from you, though you don’t call him out - more so for his sake than yours.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・Before I actually talk about Doe attempting to cook anything, I just wanted to say this. He has no idea how to cook. There have been times where he has nearly burnt the entire apartment complex down. He nearly put metal inside of your microwave. It’s a miracle to you that he’s even managed to survive as long as he has, though it makes sense when you consider how strange his diet was before he dated you. When he slips out of your shared room and into the kitchen, the only knowledge that he retains from the recipes is that the cake looks cute and is in the shape of a heart, and the smell of something burning is what wakes you up. That, plus the voice by your ear that proudly whispers: “I cooked something for you!”

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・The both of you practically run to the kitchen, and the differences between Doe and your expressions would almost be comical if you weren’t presented with the absolute monster of a cake sitting in front of you. There are random cooking utensils, cutlery, and ingredients spread across the kitchen, and it somewhat reminds you of some events that occurred within the time loop. The cake itself seems to be incredibly burnt, with frosting falling off of some spots as he’d frosted the… object much too early. On top of it seems to be a piped version of the both of you, yet it seems to look more like a scene in a horror movie than anything romantic, especially when it seems like the little version of you is melting into a puddle. Among the wreckage, Doe stands with a proud face, hugging you from behind and exclaiming about Valentine’s Day.

╰₊˚ʚ🔪ɞ・The entire mess takes about an hour to clean up together, and the cake is practically inedible, leaving Doe to finish as much of it as he can before he feels too sick. Doe takes a couple of photos of the partially eaten behemoth before the both of you throw it out, and he seems like he would cry when it thuds into the garbage. You decide to show Doe the proper way to bake a cake, finding the TV show that he had been watching and properly completing the recipe alongside him. You still put on the frosting too early, and it melts. The newer piped versions of you both meet a similar fate, although it still tastes relatively good. Overall… It's a good Valentine’s Day.

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[parisawr]

John Dory x King Trollex

Word Count: 3624

Part 2/?

“Jeez… definitely should’ve laid off the punch last night.” He chastises himself, before wincing again as another wave of pain washes over him. Slowly, he sits up, palming his head in the hopes that it’ll somehow manage to dissipate the pain. His partying habits hadn’t at all changed since he was young, including his tendency to drink ‘till he, quite literally, dropped.

But, sitting here moping about his terrible choices from the night before weren’t going to curb the headache. He slumps off of the couch with all the grace of a bag of potatoes, and practically drags himself to the shower outside. Immediately, his eyes are assaulted by the piercing light of the sun, making him groan in annoyance.

Today was going to be a long day.

—

That morning, he tends to himself a bit more than he usually would, treating himself to an impossibly large breakfast and an ungodly amount of coffee. The hangover had managed to be mitigated to a dull ache at that point, and it’s then when he’s haphazardly chewing on a bagel does he remember that he had actually made plans for that day.

He’s supposed to meet up with his brothers, Poppy, and Viva that early afternoon! The hangover from this morning must’ve made him forget! Thank goodness that the worst of it was over by that point though. He quickly shoves the rest of the bagel he was eating into his mouth and pops into the driver seat. Rhonda wakes with a rumble, and the two are off.

—

When he makes it to the village, he finds the place alive and active, with many trolls out and about helping with the cleaning effort. He saunters through, and offers his hellos to some trolls he’s passing by. Now, the only issue he was having at the moment was that he couldn’t completely remember where he was supposed to meet the rest of them at. All he remembers is that it was some sort of patch that Poppy said he couldn’t miss.

This limited information does nothing to help him out though, and he’s just about to ask some random troll for help when he hears the enthusiastic voice of Poppy calling out his name.

“JD! John! Over here!” He hears a distant voice yell.

When he turns around, he’s expecting to see Poppy quite the distance away, but his eyes go wide as he sees that the princess is much, much closer. With no warning, John is suddenly taken into a bear-crushing hug as Poppy promptly squeezes the life out of him, his back popping. He tries to laugh, but it comes out more like a wheeze as he pats Poppy on the back. “Good to see you too, girly!” Is all he manages to squeeze out.

She eventually puts him down, just when Branch manages to catch up to her, and John stretches to ease the pain in his back whilst his brother chastises his girlfriend for nearly breaking it. Once he’s properly recuperated himself, he takes his chance to properly say his hellos.

“What is up, bro?” He asks, offering his younger brother a fist bump, which the other accepts.

“Nothing much. Just going around looking for you because I knew Poppy’s directions,” he says, making air quotations when saying directions which makes Poppy roll her eyes. “wouldn't tell you anything about where you were supposed to go.” Poppy dramatically sighs, and gently nudges Branch in the arm. “C’mon, don’t be like that!” She whines, laughing a little.

She then turns to John, a bright smile on her face as she excitedly takes him and Branch by the hand. “Now, let’s get going! Don’t wanna keep the other’s waiting, do ya?” She jokes, before practically dragging the two off.

—

The spot that the queen had chosen was a secluded little dirt patch, fitted with a few small sticks that acted as benches. Of course, they weren’t the only ones there. The place was seemingly a social hub, and was filled with the hustle and bustle of trolls hanging out together. He catches Floyd, Viva, and Clay all sitting together, engaging in casual conversation. However, the second Viva notices her sister walking alongside Branch and his brother, she perks up and raises her hand, waving at them.

Of course, Floyd and Clay take notice, and stop talking to look and over and see who Viva was waving at. When they see the group approaching, they’re quick to raise their own hands to wave at them too. Poppy returns the gesture with an equally enthused wave, whilst John and Branch offer their own, less ecstatic ones towards their own brothers.

When they make it to the bench, JD greets Clay and Floyd, taking them both into a big hug that has the brothers giggling. He settles himself next to Clay, whilst Branch and Poppy sit off to the side, next to Floyd and Viva. Once everyone gets comfortable, the conversations get started.

—

They all talk about their own little escapades from the party last night, with Viva and Poppy enthusiastically talking about the performed a menagerie of songs for the crowd, and how Branch, Clay, and Floyd, all took turns doing solo performances of various BroZone songs.

Eventually however, things take a turn as they start recalling the time they spent hanging out with their troll of the day. Poppy got with an enthusiastic country troll named Skipper, who excitedly showed her her impressive banjo skills that Poppy made lyrics to on the spot to sing to it with.

Floyd ended up with a hard rock troll named Riff. According to him, the guy was a bit weird, but man, could he execute a sick drum solo. He offered to teach Floyd the basics, and even offered to take him back to his place once the party was over so that he could teach him some more, though he respectfully declined.

Clay got partnered with a classical music troll named Sonata, and the two of them went on to bond over their shared interests in doing taxes, paperwork, and other boring stuff. JD was honestly struggling to stay awake while he recounted his story, but stayed strong.

He was honest in wanting to improve as an older brother, which meant that even if his brothers were talking to him about something he thought was boring or stupid, it was important that he listened. Because it was important for them, and showing them that he really did care about their interests was a great way of showing that he cared about them.

Anywho, Branch got partnered up with a funk troll named Bootsy, whose chill yet eccentric personality made for interesting conversations. Overall, it seemed that everyone had a pretty great time. John Dory was pretty content just listening for the most part, zoning out and occasionally jumping in with a joke or two that managed to make everyone laugh.

Which was why he suddenly got nervous when everyone stopped their conversations and were now looking very pointedly at him. His smile falters just a bit , growing a little afraid that he said something wrong. “Umm… what’s wrong, you guys? Why’d you, uh, stop talking?” He inquires, following his question up with nervous laughter.

Poppy answers, a gleaming smile on her face as she does so. “It’s your turn, dude! Who’d you meet?” Ah. That. John smacks his face hard as he remembers that he wasn’t just here as a spectator. Had he really zoned out that much? Whatever, didn’t matter now. “Right, right! Sorry, was kinda caught up in the good vibes we had goin’ on here, y’know? Hehe…” He jokes.

“But uh… my mystery troll was, get this, King Trollex!” He admits, a proud tone in his voice. And honestly, who wouldn’t be? How often does a troll get the chance to meet up with genuine royalty? And not only that, become friends with them? Poppy gasps excitedly, and the rest of them, minus Branch, immediately start asking questions.

“Oh my gosh, King Trollex is like, one of THE coolest trolls ever! Besides Branch, of course.” Poppy practically squeals, turning to Branch as she mumbles the last sentence. Branch offers her a shy smile before nodding in agreement. “I need you to tell us ALL the deets!”

And John Dory does. He does just that for the next HOUR or so. Hell, he even surprised himself with how much he was talking. It was just that, well, he couldn’t REALLY explain it. It was just that there was something about the king that just made him so interesting, something inexplicable. Something that apparently made the guy worth talking about for over an hour with little to no breaks.

He talked about everything, from the way he spoke to the way he moved so smoothly through the air, as if he was drifting through the waters in his home. He talked about his laugh, and how he’d always put his hand on his shoulder as if he was going to collapse if he didn’t. He even mentioned how his ears would twitch whenever a breeze would come through! Seriously, what was happening to him?!

By the time he’s done, everybody is making little comments here and there, poking a little fun at him being “obsessed” with the king, which he clearly wasn’t. Still though, he won’t deny that he misses the guy. “I just wish there was an easier way for us to talk to one another, y’know?” He comments. “I mean, the guys a king! It’s not like he can just abandon all his duties just so he can come up here and talk with some random troll.” The others nod in understanding, but John Dory doesn’t notice when Branch and Poppy glance at each other before nodding their heads, seemingly coming to some kind of agreement before turning their attention back to the group.

Eventually, the group starts to trickle out, with Floyd leaving to go meet up with Riff, and Clay and Viva leaving so that they could help their trolls better integrate into Pop Village. Which eventually left Branch, Poppy, and JD. By that time, the sky had begun to dim, an orange, yellow hue overtaking the sky as night neared its descent. John, noticing how late it had gotten, sat up and brushed himself off.

“Well, it was nice hanging out today, you guys!” He says, straightening his jacket. “But, I’ve gotta go! Rhonda is probably wondering where I’m at right now, and I’m starting to miss my baby, too. Catch y’all later, alright?”

At that, Poppy dramatically frowns and approaches him, giving him a much, much gentler hug than when they met earlier that morning.

“Awww, okay! Just be sure to make it back here by noon tomorrow so that we can start movin’ your stuff into the bunker, okay?” She reminds him, pulling away and patting his shoulder. Branch looks on with a worried look, and John notices, offering him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there, promise.” He replies, voice firm and sure. That makes Branch smile, just a bit, and he goes in to give his older brother a hug too.

When he pulls away, he feels like a little something inside of him had healed, and he hoped that from Branch’s small smile that something inside of him had healed too. He offers the couple one last wave, then turns around and begins the long trek back to sweet ol’ Rhonda.

However, he only manages to make it a few steps away before he feels somebody tugging on his arm. Confused, he turns around, and is surprisingly unsurprised when the troll in question is Poppy. He cautiously glances around, taking notice that his brother wasn’t with her, before glancing back.

“Uh… hey, Poppyseed. What’s up?” He questions, and Poppy just smiles awkwardly. “Oh, I just wanted to, uh…” she pauses, eyes trailing off as if she thinks of what to say. After a second or so, she perks up as if a lightbulb had lit up on her mind. ”…walk with you back to Rhonda!” John Dory looks at her skeptically, eyeing her up and down. It’s not like he minded her company or anything, it was just weird having someone accompany him back on his way to Rhonda. Guess living off the grid for so long will lead you to having some isolationist tendencies.

Poppy however does not falter, and she continues to look up at him with bright, earnest eyes. Inviting her along wouldn’t be all bad. The queen made for some pretty good conversation, so with a sigh, he nods his head. Poppy squeals, giddily bouncing in place before gesturing forward for him to lead the way.

The walk back is filled with small talk, with a few jokes being cracked here and there. A comfortable silence had settled between after a while though, and JD had started humming some random tune when Poppy spoke up. “So, you and King Trollex had a real great time, huh?” She asks. John Dory perks up at the name of the troll (Why did he?) and nods his head yes.

“Well, I just wanted to let you know that if you want to, I could totally set something up so that you and king Trollex can meet up!” She offers, and John Dory sputters in shock. “W-Where did this come from? Hehe…” He nervously asks, chuckling to himself. Okay, so maybe he did sound a bit crazy about the guy when he was talking about him during their little meetup. But he didn’t think he sounded that crazy…

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me! You were talking about him as if he was the only troll in the world.” She says, looking at him with a look that reads ‘really?’

And, okay, he’ll admit it. He does really want to meet the guy again. But the guys a king, and he’s got duties and probably wouldn’t be willing to meet up with some random troll he spoke to once. But… if Poppys’ offering, who is he to turn her down?

“Well… that’d be great actually.” He confesses, scratching the back of his head. “But uh… in case you haven’t noticed, the guy lives in the ocean. How would you even reach him?” At that, Poppy just smiles. “Well I had to tell him about ‘Meet Somebody New’ Day somehow, right?” John thinks about it for a moment, off-handedly goes “oh, yeah”, and then nods his head.

“I’ll just send him a letter about meeting you at the shores tonight, and then you guys can just talk for a bit, yeah?”

John stares at her dumbfoundedly, a shocked expression in his face as he takes in what she said. “You’d do that for me?” He asks carefully, and Poppy waves her hand at him, making a ‘pshhh’ sound as if he made a joke. “Of course! And besides…” she leans in, putting up a hand between the two of them as she whispers. “Don’t tell anyone… but the king told me he was gonna miss you, too.”

John Dory can not, for the life of him, figure out why his heart skips a beat when he hears that. He sputters for a moment, a blush growing on his face as he tries to fight off the violent urge to squeal like a little girl.

“I-I… um…” Oh jeez, he’s stuttering. Why is he stuttering? Why is he suddenly starting to short-circuit at the thought of the king missing him?! “D-Did he really say that? About me?” He asks incredulously, pointing towards himself. Poppy giggles excitedly. “Of course he did! You can even tell the guy when you meet up tonight.” She says, offering him a sly wink.

Now, it was his turn to envelope Poppy into a bear-crushing hug, and the laughter of the two ring out into the evening.

—

“I just wanted to thank you, again, for this Poppy.” He tells her earnestly, barely contained excitement laced in with his voice. The queen pats him on the shoulder and offers him a smile as they approach Rhonda. “Of course, dude! I’d do anything to help if it means making new friends.” She reassures him.

When Rhonda notices them, she jumps up from her slouched position, her tongue hanging out as she practically barrels towards them. John Dory lets out a laugh when his precious Rhonda gives him and Poppy a big ‘ol glittery lick. He looks up at her, smiling brightly, and takes her into a hug, which she graciously leans into. “I missed you, girly.” He whispers to her, and the armadillo coos as if to say ‘me too’.

He lets her go and makes his way around to the entrance, opening the door and prepares to hop inside. He pauses though, just as he’s about to slip past the threshold of the door, and looks back at Poppy, who’s standing expectantly off to the side of the car. “I just wanted to say… Thank you, again, for this.” He confesses, offering her a smile. She smiles back, and nods her head. “Of course, dude. Anytime.” She says, before trailing off to the side.

“Now get going, dude! Because the letter has already been sent and he’s expecting you at the shore in about an hour!” She says excitedly, and John lets out an exasperated ‘already?!’ that makes the queen laugh.

“Oh, and uh, before you go…” She starts, raising her hand to the side of Rhonda, stopping just before she reaches her skin. “May I…?” She asks, and John chuckles. Who was he to deny his precious baby some well deserved pets? John nods, and Poppy squeals.

—

By the time John makes his way to the Beach, the yellow-orange hue of the sky is gone, replaced with a dark blue blanket twinkling with stars. He cautiously gets out of Rhonda, looking around for signs of any other trolls before taking a couple steps out into the sandy beach. A shaky breath leaves his lips, and he pauses, confused. He doesn’t remember breathing so shallowly before, what was up with him today?

“Okay Rhonda, we’re gonna be here for a while so feel free to run around!” John Dory shouts out, much to the joy of the armadillo, who perks up at the opportunity to have some fun. She quickly scampers off, and leaves John Dory alone with his thoughts and the moon.

For some strange reason, he feels nervous. Why does he feel nervous? All he’s doing is just waiting for his friend to arrive so that they can chat. That’s all he’s doing. So if that’s all he’s doing, why does it feel like his heart is gonna jump straight out of his chest if he isn’t careful? In fact, why has he been feeling like this? The only logical explanation that he's got going on is the fact that he only gets like this whenever he talks about Trollex. But why Trollex?

What about Trollex made John Dory get nervous at the thought of even meeting up with the guy? The two were friends! Friends should not be getting nervous at the thought of talking to one another, especially after it’s only been a day since they last spoke! JD, frustrated, shoves his head into his hands and begins to mumble angrily at himself and his stupid, confusing mind.

He gets so caught up in his head that he doesn’t even realize when a certain techno troll washes up on the shore. In fact, he only does notice when the aforementioned troll calls out his name.

“John! Hey, man!” He hears a familiar voice call out, which manages to shock the troll out of his stupor with a yelp. When John opens his eyes and they settle on the neon colored form of none other than King Trollex, John’s heart practically comes to a full stop.

He was here. Poppy, that crazy troll, she really did it! John chuckles to himself, letting out a mock cough as he pulls himself together.

“T-Trollex, hey! How’s it been, man?” He asks as calmly as he can, as if he hadn’t had a mini heart attack when he heard the king call his name just a few seconds earlier. The king smiles, and pulls the rest of himself on to the shore, taking a seat right in front of him. “It’s been good, just really busy, y’know. You?” He answers, looking at him expectantly for an answer.

“It’s been good, a little busy but probably not as busy as whatever you’ve got going on.” He says, straightening his posture. He quickly follows up with an apology. “Anyways, sorry if this seemed a little last minute… I just wanted to talk with you again.” He confesses, looking down, fiddling with the sand beneath his feet. That gets a light chuckle out of the king, and JD’s heart flutters.

“Dude, it’s fine.” He promises, placing a hand on John’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem to notice how the other troll practically comes to a full stop when he does that. “I don’t mind taking a little time out of my schedule to come and meet up with you! And besides, you're doing me some good, helping me take my mind off stuff, y’know?” His voice is sincere and genuine, and that helps calm the anxiety that’s been plaguing John since he first arrived.

But John can’t help but pray that the king can’t hear how loud his heart is beating.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52544056/chapters/133173169#workskin