#tumblr is horrible at looking things up though so let me know if you want a reblog of that or smth

[clubpenguinthrowaway-blog]

Garykernal or known as Runin, Module0, Mothnwizard, Blaketwo, or any other possible account is a stalker. There is more under the cut. More parts will be posted, We have to break up all of this into segments. Keep in mind, Gary is 25 through this all. The person who is a victim allowed for at least their age to be stated, that being 19. There is a minor in this situation, but for now this post is about the oldest of the victims.

Green's Story

This user has stalked and harassed a club penguin blog for some time now. Unfortunately, this blog had to be created to warn other users about this person. Green is a victim of Gary's behavior. They did not know Gary very well. Written by them, they said this to me:

"I vaguely knew them, like you pass by this person on Tumblr and like a few posts and I saw them in a discord (they got invited by someone) but after all this they got banned from said discord. They obsessed over me to an unhealthy degree, I kinda just rarely replied to the dms they sent. They only knew me for a week before confessing they were in love with me. I wasn't interested, I was kind in turning them down because I didn't want to date anyone. I was clear in this, though things persisted. Gary would flirt with me, yet I wouldn't fully process it nor did I really want to engage with it. It was clear to everyone around that it was uncomfortable. I was scared to say anything in fear of causing issues. Well, guess that went out the window considering how this went down. They would draw ship art of themself and I. My sona isn't a sona, it's my real physical self. They had an entire whiteboard fox where they drew us kissing and whatnot. Sorry White, I rather not send that to you. They would ask me to send them images and tag it as us when I didn't know them well and sure that isn't a horrible thing to do, though they crossed my boundaries a lot. They had brought up my abusers in a conversation at random while I was already stressed out. I asked them to stop at the time, they did not respect that. I ignored them even more at one point, my friends knew how overwhelmed and scared I was to come out about anything. They were my rock in this time. Yet, I was still functional with what I knew at the time. I thought it was a baseline creepy stalker they couldn't have gotten any worse than this and I'm just pissed they harassed my friend Coral because I blocked Gary and decided I had to cut them off. They were bad for my mental health, they were bad for me. In the screenshots I sent you, it all came down because they decided to look up my old username (which I did not tell them at all so they had to go digging for that) and then dmmd me about it and it felt off. Thank god I cut them off then. From what I learned recently, not only did Gary have a shrine of me, but Gary had drawn porn of them and I. When I learned this, I threw up not only because it was of me when I, in fact, do not like to be sexualized nor would it even be a normal and sane thing to just draw nsfw of a real physical person. That's just gross. I'm not a fucking oc nor am I a character from a media. I'm a real person. Flesh and blood. Yellow and I were mortified, Yellow being my current partner who has known me for years before we started to even date. Yellow had to comfort me when I left my college classroom to go throw up. All of my friends were in my dms trying to comfort me, tell me it was ok, but I feel violated. I don't care if it's stupid that I feel that way, I'm not famous. I'm not someone that should be sexualized. I'm a victim of CSA and SA, this gave me paranoia and a flare up in pstd. I know this is heavy. I hope you're able to speak for the other victims too. Coral I feel bad for, they were harassed by Gary and now a friend of Gary's to let Gary contact me after I blocked them. I'll pass you onto Coral now, after that I think you should talk to the minor who Gary sent nsfw dms to as well. Red I feel most bad for. I know that I'm the main victim of Gary, but dear lord did Red go through shit."

Green stated that they felt bad for how they typed everything out a bit messy. They wanted to get their feelings out so I reassured them it was fine. This is Green's final messages with Gary. After the final message Gary sent, they blocked them.

I asked Green for any final comments on this. "I know that I only have these screenshots to back up my end of things, though Coral has some and Red has a ton. Though if I had to state any last thing to Gary and their system, especially from my system- Yellow and I together in this, fuck off. Delete that gross porn you made of me you vile freak. You're one of three people now I can never forgive in my lifetime. I hope no one has to deal with the shit I did. To your system, if anyone has a shred of sense in it, destroy that shrine to me. Scrub away every single little bit of ship art or nsfw art that Gary made of me. God forbid this, if anyone else drew art of us together I hope they block you. Stay away from me, stay away from my system, and stay away from my friends and my family. I can't forgive you for the trauma you put on me. Maybe someday you'll be a better person, but people who send nsfw messages to minors deserve to burn. I hope Red is able to recover from this like everyone hopes I do."

Thank you Green for letting me post this. I wish the best for you and your recovery.

Coral's story -> Red's story/closing statements

[al-norton]

Dude!!! (gender neutral) Your art is amazing!! Your compositions, color palettes, the vibes! All of it! Fantastic work!!!! What brushes do you use? How do you go about picking colors and painting?

Lol thanks so much, I really appreciate it!

I currently work with Procreate inbuilt brushes and MaxPacks sample pack! His shit is Amazing, but very much not cheap so the sample pack is really all I allowed myself to get from him so far :) and I’m pretty happy with it! Very good gouache brush 🤠

From Procreate, I’d say my most used brushes are Nikko Rull for blocking in the shapes, Salamanca for more subtle renders and the see-though effects, and Blackburn for bold gestures. but, you know, it’s definitely not all I use and my brushes and process change from one piece to another

As for picking colors and painting…. Well, that’s a broad ass question :D it’s really hard to give you an answer in words… I’d say the answers are in the arts themselves and if you study them you’ll find them more easily then from me giving you a muddy and long description of my process, esp since it changes a lot depending on what kickstarts the piece. But if you have more specific questions, feel free to send them my way and I’ll answer to the best of my ability! Like, if you want to know the thought process behind a specific art or a specific choice made, I can probably explain that in a way that is helpful

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi there!ever since I saw you when I first installed tumblr it just keeps getting better. I was wondering if you can write something about a hero being the sucess of a lab and the villain being a failure(Bonus if the lab is actually evil) Don't feel pressured to do this though😗

"Do you know why I'm considered the success, instead of the failure like you?" the hero asked.

The villain sneered at them. They yanked and thrashed and struggled against the shimmering containment that wrapped around them, warping like a net from the hero's outstretched fingers, forcing them down against the cold concrete.

"Because you're a good, obedient little hero?"

The hero couldn't keep the damn trap up forever!

"Yes."

The simple response, the tone, startled the villain enough that they went temporarily still. Maybe that was the ploy. They stared at the hero through the hazy sheen of their powers, mockery draining from their face, panting for breath.

The hero had many things that the villain didn't: a body that wasn't screwed up, powers that weren't prone to out-of-control devastation, a generally sweet and more palatable disposition when it came to public relations.

And, of course, they did what they were told. The villain had never properly thought about that.

"It was their most important addition, after you...you know," the hero said, studying them. "The ability to control their experiments. To make sure that nothing like you would happen again."

A bad taste slowly flooded the villain's mouth. They shook their head.

The hero stepped forward, crouching down in front of the villain, on the other side of the containment wall. Up close, the villain got a good look at the vein snaking up the hero's wrist. The blood was just slightly the wrong colour; it made them look gorgeously healthy, radiant, compared to the sickly pallor the villain couldn't quite shake.

"If I stop taking the serum for my powers, I die," the hero said, keeping their voice light. "Quite horribly. But while the serum is in my system, I'm not in control. Not really. Everything I do is monitored. If I stray too far out..." The hero grimaced.

"Why are you telling me this?" the villain whispered.

"Because I can't do anything about it. I can't do anything about them. I signed up to do something good, to make the world better, and I..." The hero squeezed their eyes shut. "Well. I'm going to try and drag you back to them, aren't I? I'm going to hand you over to the people who hurt you, and then I'm going to make a speech telling everyone what a terrible, awful monster you are as if they don't deserve everything you give them. I'll smile while I'm doing it too."

The villain swallowed. They strained to press a hand up against the wall, but it only forced them back down against the ground harder. The villain's breath knocked out of them.

The hero winced. "Sorry."

"Isn't it better to be dead?"

"You didn't think so when you ran."

No. Maybe that had been an unfair question to ask. Still, the fury and the helplessness of it seared through the villain because ShieldCorp - they were going to get away with it. All of the others were dead! Even if they managed to expose what was really happening, ShieldCorp had the hero.

"I wanted to do something good too," the villain said, hollow. "It's not your fault they took advantage of that."

The hero shrugged. Their hand stayed perfectly steady.

"Are they listening to us now?"

"Probably."

"They'll be angry with you."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Me telling you this doesn't change anything, does it?"

"I thought you were like them. I hated you. It changes that."

The hero smiled, or something like it. It was too fragile, too wobbly, too shattered a thing compared to the beautiful thing they tossed out to the masses at every public appearance.

"I want to destroy them," the hero said. "But, when I let this force field drop so I can take you in properly, I'm going to need your help to do that. How are your powers feeling today?"

"Like I'm going to burn down the world."

The hero nodded, just once, and rose again. Silhouetted against the skyline, they looked unstoppable.

"Excellent," the hero said. "On the count of three, start with me."

The villain was ready when the containment dropped.

ShieldCorp was not.

[deliciousbasementtrash]

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

From Injustice Gods Among Us Year 5 #15

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. Will you take it?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, parental abuse, parental neglect

Word Count: 1.6k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it 

Part One, Part Two

Part Three: Skip-Bo and Chess

My mind raced as I went over the contract. Everything seemed too simple, too easy. The only terms and conditions I had to abide by were that I wouldn’t reveal his identity and that I would need to essentially be on call from the hours of 21:00 to 7:00, but roughly 24/7. The pay was a ridiculous amount. The insurance was crazy good. I didn’t realize it was possible to get that much coverage. But this went against everything I have represented in my life. Would I be betraying the people of Gotham, my patients, and my fellow coworkers, by taking this job? Would I be betraying myself and my past history? 

Gotham City: 16 Years Ago 

My father and I stood over my mother’s grave. It was strange. My mom was a woman who breathed life into everything. She never wore a dull color, she danced whenever she could, and she sang horribly and off tune. She wore her hair in two long braids with colorful ribbons. She wore sweet perfume. She wore red lipstick. She wore so many necklaces and bracelets she jingled when she walked. She snorted when she laughed. And now when I looked at her all I saw was dirt and a gravestone. Her colorfulness, her loudness, her laughter, her joy, all of it was gone. I knew I couldn’t cry though. Not in front of Dad. He got so much meaner when I did. Sometimes I wonder what my beautiful, colorful, caring mother saw in this cruel bleak man. But I guess his bitterness was supposed to balance out her sweetness. 

But without her, it felt like I was choking on the disgusting taste of my reality. We were grieving. We had no money. And the debt just seemed to be getting deeper and deeper. I tried selling homemade cookies at school to help out. I raised about 22 dollars. I came home with a smile on my face and handed my father the money. He pocketed it without another word. It was almost worse when he was like this.

It felt like he was a teapot that was brewing and I was just waiting for the wrong thing to set him off. 

Some days when I came home from school he was home. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t look at me. Other days he wasn’t there. I had to scavenge the house for food or walk to the convenience store with what little money I had scurried away. 

It felt like my life had become black and white without my mom. Everything seemed so hopelessly bad. Then one day my dad came home with a smile on his face. My first instinct was to tense my body and avert my gaze. I didn’t know what he was going to do. 

“Sweetie, come with me. I have an idea,” my father said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me out the door with him. 

He drove like a maniac and pulled up towards a seemingly abandoned building. My blood ran cold with anticipation. 

My father practically ripped me out of the car and dragged me inside. Inside there were about twenty men all pretty beat up. All of them looked at me. I picked at my hangnails and looked at my father. 

“Y/n, these gentlemen need to be healed. Be a doll and heal them.” My father’s words were clipped, and my pulse raced. I merely nodded and healed man after man. It became clear to me, even at my young age, that these men were a part of a gang. Who’s? I had no idea. 

That was until a fat man in a tuxedo and a cane walked up to my father. He handed him a bundle of cash, they whispered some hurried words and the grotesque man leaned down towards me.

His short fat finger booped my nose, and the man tilted his head back and laughed at my reaction. I wanted to bite his finger off. I wanted to go home. I wanted my mom. 

For the next two years, my father did business with anyone that could pay him. Our life went from living by the penny to living in luxury. All due to my power. The richest of the rich, politicians, businessmen, criminals, and villains, all used my services. And eventually, they tried to buy me. 

That’s when I decided to run away. Or die trying.

Gotham City: Present Day 

I sat across from Sam, my best friend, and nurse colleague. “What do you think I should do?” She was the only one that I trusted enough to tell everything to. Of course, I left out the whole, ‘My boss would be Batman thing.’ 

“Girl, if you don’t take this job I will kill you,” Sam said, taking a large bite of her pasta. 

“Do you think I’m betraying my younger self? I promised I would never be bought. I would never work for a corrupt man.” 

“Maybe you should discuss with Mr. Wayne, that you would like to remain a nurse part-time. That way you ease your conscious about everything but still live in a fucking MANSION and make BANK, you dummy head. And this way you’re reclaiming your past. You get to choose. You’re not trapped.” 

I mindlessly pushed my food around my plate, lost in thought. “That’s not a terrible idea.” 

“Of course not, I never have bad ideas. Take one more night to think about it. But I think you have your answer.” 

That night I tossed and turned in my bed. I grabbed my phone, the bright screen making me blink. 

[I accept your terms, but I do have a few remediations to the contract. Signed, y/f/n y/l/n.] 

One week later. 

 “How are you taking to your new living situation, Miss y/l/n?” Alfred asked as he expertly julienned an onion. I not as gracefully diced several cloves of garlic across from him. 

I looked up at him, smiling, “I’m still getting used to it, to be honest.” It had become a silent routine over the past week. When I wasn’t working at the hospital, or patching up Batman, I got bored. So, I started helping Alfred with cooking. 

He taught me how to play chess. I taught him how to play Skip-Bo and dominos. I had grown quite fond of the man over the short period. It most definitely was my daddy issues clinging to the first nice man I saw. But Alfred Pennyworth seemed truly kind to me. 

I hadn’t met any other members of Bruce’s family, but supposedly they were all meeting for dinner tonight. For some reason, my pulse spiked at the thought of meeting them. My past gave me anxiety when meeting new people I didn’t know. 

As if reading my thoughts Alfred asked, “How are you feeling about meeting everyone tonight?”

I cut a piece of garlic a bit harshly, “I’m– I’m fine. Do you know if I am to meet them after the dinner or before?”

Alfred’s eyebrows quirked, “What do you mean? You most probably will meet them at dinner. You are attending are you not?”

“I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to eat with the family or not,” I stated, hesitantly. 

I heard a twang of metal as Alfred set down his knife. He gave me his full attention as he said, “Master Wayne may seem abrasive, Miss. But I assure you, he would never have to eat separately unless that is what you wished.” 

Abrasive was one way to put it. He often reminded me of a feral cat when I tried to heal him. He would practically hiss that he was fine. I had to politely remind my employer a few times that this was what I was here for and to let me heal him. 

We cooked in silence for a while, when out of the blue I asked Alfred, “Alfred, are you happy?”

Alfred always holding his poise answered calmly, “Happiness is something that fluctuates in my life, Miss. I will say that knowing that Master Wayne and the rest of the family are in your capable hands is reassuring me as of late. I also have been enjoying your company, no matter how many times you beat me in Skip-Bo.”

I laughed, a true genuine laugh. “Hey, you win every time we play chess!”

Alfred smiled softly, “Miss I have been playing chess since I was five years old. If I lost I think I would have to revoke my Englishmanship.” 

After my laughter died down, another question popped in my head, “What are they like? Mr. Wayne’s family?”

Alfred smiled, “Those children are loud, argumentative, loyal, funny, stubborn, etc. I love those children with everything I am. You will too, Miss y/l/n.”

An unfamiliar sense of warmth bloomed in my chest, “Thank you, Alfred.”

“Thank you, Miss y/l/n.”

As I was getting dressed. I could not pick out what I wanted to wear. Did I want to go casual with a tee shirt and jeans? A bit more formal with a dress? Semi-casual with a skirt and sweater? I decided on the last one, with some tights on underneath. I wanted to make a good impression. It felt like the first day of school. I made my way down the stairs. No one had arrived yet. I took a seat next to Alfred, my leg bouncing. 

Alfred patted my shoulder when we heard the door open, “It will be just fine.” 

The loud oncoming footsteps mimicked my thundering pulse.

[milliesfishes]

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚𝓟𝓻𝓪𝔂 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓒𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓜𝓮𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

[fem reader] contains: mentions of pale skin, cheating, suggestive, innocent reader, reader cares to some level about snow. pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader summary: (au) you’ve been married to the president of Panem for awhile now, and you thought things were going well, until you find out he’s been cheating. author’s note: definitely going to make this a series, this isn’t necessarily a dark fic, but it’s not not a dark fic so keep that in mind. This is my first fic on tumblr and I’m still figuring out how to use the site in regards to fanfiction, figuring out what warnings I need to include so let me know if I missed anything :)  Series Pinterest Board Series Spotify Playlist

It’s a strange thing to find out that someone you’re not supposed to love cheated on you.

This is a fact you found to be true one night as you wandered the halls of the mansion you inhabited with your husband, the president of Panem. The beautiful, tortured, powerful Coriolanus Snow. A match made in heaven, as your father proclaimed when he told you after your graduation from the university. Somehow, the fact that he’d let you finish school, knowing you’d only be married off afterward made it worse.

But as Coriolanus began to court you, suddenly it wasn’t a horrible idea. He was young, and very handsome, a far cry from the men some of your girlfriends had been forced to marry. Old, balding men with more money than yellowing teeth, and horribly old-fashioned demeanors. 

Coriolanus was just as wealthy, thanks to his former Gamemaker position, and the only thing paler than his perfect blond hair was his full mouth of teeth. As for his demeanor, well, he was cold, lightly controlling (typical of a man in the Capitol), but he’d charmed you right down the aisle after all so how bad was it really?

Marriage wasn’t the storybook romance you’d fantasized about in your youth, but it was fine enough, and besides, you’d left those daydreams in the past. You never wanted for anything, were at the height of society, admired and beloved by all, especially now that he was president. The two of you made a beautiful couple, and you were free to do as you pleased, your only obligations being typical marital duty when he requested so and attending the various events his presidency demanded from him on his arm, the perfect little wife.

Even though this was an arranged marriage, and you knew he didn’t love you per se, you knew he was at least fond of you. Through the little smiles he offered you when you’d say something particularly sweet or funny, and the gifts he lavished you with, and the fact that he insisted you slept in the same bed, he showed you. And little by little, you came to like him. You looked forward to eating with him every morning and evening, even came to enjoy his touch, the little ways he gave himself to you as a husband. He treated you with respect, and you gave him what he wanted. Your body, your devotion, your image. 

All in all, after almost three years of marriage, you were content.

Until one night, when you were walking down the hallway where his office was, planning on asking him when he was coming to bed. It was getting late, and you’d taken it upon yourself to make sure he got some sleep. Besides, you missed having his warm body beside yours as you fell asleep.

Bare feet padding down the hallway, clad in a silk dressing gown, you crept toward the door. He was talking to someone on the phone, and you smiled softly. That was Coriolanus, always working. Devoted to his career, his life’s work.

You pressed your ear to the door, wondering if he was wrapping up the conversation so you could walk through the door and see him. As you did, you caught the middle of a sentence.

“...told you not to call me here, dove,” he said quietly, almost urgently.

The weight of it hit you like a punch. Dove. That was his pet name for you. Your eyes widened, and your vision blurred, the room seeming to tilt. Dovedovedovedove.

Who was he talking to?

Ear pressed to the door, you tried to make out the conversation. Maybe it’d been some kind of sick Freudian slip, a mistake.

“...I know, I know,” he said in hushed tones, voice cold. “No, not tomorrow, it’s my wife and I’s anniversary. The next morning. I’ll come to you.” He paused. “Wear the black one from last time, dove. You looked so pretty for me.” The last part was said quieter than the others.

The rest of the conversation was lost to you. Your knees felt weak, and you slid down the wall, heart pounding in your ears, arms folding automatically around yourself. Dove.

Another woman.

A million thoughts raced through your mind, and you didn’t know how long you sat there, leaning against the door. For some reason, you felt like crying. Even though you weren’t supposed to love him, it still hit like a slap across the face. For a moment, you wished he would open the door and find you there, and know you’d heard enough to know what he’d done.

But he didn’t. You could hear papers shuffling around, and eventually you stood up, your thoughts still static, and ran quietly back up to your shared bedroom, suddenly not wanting him to know that you knew.

Shutting the door behind you, you scrambled to come to a conclusion. Why was he doing this? Were you not good enough? Didn’t you give him enough?

In this haze, seeing this as the only possible reason, you tore off your dressing gown, running to the closet and digging through a drawer until you found a pretty lacy little nightdress, one he’d gotten for you. In black, he said he wanted her in black.

You pulled it on, hurriedly going to the vanity and adjusting your appearance, smoothing your hair, making sure you were perfect. The black lace stood out against your porcelain skin, making your cheeks look rosy. Your hair was luscious and soft, neatly brushed out. You looked angelic, the picture of beauty.

Quickly, picked up a little bottle, spraying the perfume you knew he liked on your wrists and neck. Does he get her this scent too?

Hazily, you stepped out and went to a chair close to the bed and picked up one of your books just to give yourself some kind of distraction. Your mind raced, a thousand unhelpful thoughts piercing your soul. Maybe if I was prettier…I can be prettier…maybe if I smiled more…maybe if I’m pretty for him right now, he won’t go to her…maybe he’ll forget…

At last, Coriolanus opened the bedroom door, shutting it behind him. The white sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, and you felt a little flutter at the sight, sitting up straight so he’d notice you…

He barely gave you a glance, going around to his side of the bed, pulling his tie off and tossing it on the chair beside his bed. He kicked his shoes off and unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it off, and it went the same way as the tie, as well as his pants. 

You stood up, putting your book down, and slowly got under the covers, letting the hem of your nightdress slide up your thigh. He pulled back the covers, getting in and resting his head back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. You moved a little closer to him, one strap of your nightdress falling off your shoulder. Nothing.

Reaching over, closer to him, you ran your hand up his arm soothingly. When he’d had a tense day at work, this usually worked, but now he didn’t respond. You moved closer, running your hand up his chest. His eyes turned to you, but they were void of any emotion. Biting your lip, you tried a sweet little smile. 

Coriolanus’ hand moved to yours on his chest, and he moved it off, giving it a little pat. His hand went back to its spot on his stomach. “Not tonight, dove.” Your husband’s words were cold, final. Dove.

Another pang went through your chest, and you moved back a little, feeling like you were free falling. Hedoesntwantyou.

Your eyes filled with tears, and you bit your lip harder, not wanting to cry in front of him. You felt ridiculous, all dolled up in your little nightdress, thinking if you were prettier he would stop cheating.

Turning to the side, facing away from him, you stared at the wall, trying to pretend to be asleep. Not that he’d notice anyways.

You eventually closed your eyes, feeling like the loneliest person in the world, even though there was a man who supposedly cared about you lying there beside you. Knees tucked up toward your chest, covers around your hips, you tried to sleep, tried to act like you didn’t know what you knew. 

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt him turn over, a hand coming over your waist, pulling you closer. It took everything in you not to push it away. Why should he get to hold you? Why should he get to walk out of one woman’s arms into another’s?

The last thought you had before you fell asleep was about how warm his hand was, and how it felt wrong that it belonged to such a cold man.

Next part

come talk about coryo here!

[genshinluvr]

Crave 7

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Scaramouche x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You and Scaramouche go to Inazuma City together! Even though Scaramouche is (reluctantly) accompanying you to the City of Eternity, you can't help but feel like you're forcing him to go with you. The next thing you know, you and Scaramouche booked a motel room overnight because of a sudden weather change. 

Note: It's been a while since I've posted something for Crave, so here is part seven of Crave! The smut is shorter than I planned for it to be, but I will make it up to you Scaramouche simps, hopefully soon. As previously stated in the previous Crave "series," I tried to keep the smut as gender-neutral as possible, but this smut does lean more toward AFAB!reader/female-bodied reader. All of my smuts do lean towards female!reader/AFAB!reader with gender-neutral pronouns. As usual, minors DO NOT INTERACT! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut as per usual, fingering, Scaramouche almost cummed on the spot lol, hair pulling, biting, cervix fucking chest/breast groping, reverse cowgirl, full nelson, creampie

Word Count: 8k

Crave "Chapters": [1], [2], [3], [4], [5], [6], [7]

The cool air of the Inazuman weather blows through your hair as you walk in the streets of Inazuma City, breathing in the sweet and savory foods. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. It feels nice to go outside every once in a while. Around you are bustling crowds murmuring, children laughing and chasing each other around, and street vendors shouting and giving customers their food.

The person beside you lets out a scoff, pushing past you. “Don’t just stand there and look around with your mouth open like a fish out of water,” Scaramouche scoffs, nudging you with his elbow. “Let’s start moving. The longer you stand there, the more you’ll be hungry and complain.” Scaramouche gestures for you to follow him.

You blink at Scaramouche and pucker your lips while watching him walk away from you. “Me? Complain? You’re the one that’s been complaining since we’ve arrived, not me.” You let out an exasperated sigh before following the shorter male. Scaramouche stops at the nearest food stall, getting in line behind a tall woman with long purple hair. You stand beside Scaramouche and cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot on the floor. 

Scaramouche looks at you from the corner of his eyes. “Why are you tapping your foot? Are you nervous?” Scaramouche asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You purse your lips, shaking your head. 

“Then stop it. It’s starting to get annoying,” Scaramouche rolls his eyes.

You stop the tapping and frown at Scaramouche, turning away from the indigo-haired man with a huff. Prior to arriving in Inazuma, you had planned on visiting Inazuma alone. But of course, your beloved boyfriends did not allow that and had one of the men tag along on your adventure outside of the abode. However, that person, Scaramouche, did not want to go to Inazuma due to personal reasons. 

“If I have to go somewhere with you, I would rather go anywhere that isn’t in Inazuma,” Scaramouche deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest while glaring down at you.

You blink at him, looking at the other men. Scaramouche didn’t have to join you on your outing if he didn’t want to. It’s not like you’re holding him at gunpoint, demanding for him to tag along. Childe rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he approaches you and Scaramouche.

Childe wraps his arms around your shoulders, gazing at the shorter male with a smirk. “And what do you have against Inazuma?”

Scaramouche scowls at Childe. “None of your business, Tartaglia. If I don’t want to step foot into Inazuma, then I don’t want to,” Scaramouche hisses.

Childe holds his hands up in front of him, chuckling. You shake your head, smiling at the fuming indigo-haired man before you and Childe. Again, it’s not like you’re forcing Scaramouche to accompany you to the City of Eternity. You know his distaste for the Electro Archon, whose also your close friend aside from Lumine, and you didn’t want Scaramouche to feel the need to keep you company. 

“Scara, it’s not like I’m forcing you to come with me! You don’t have to go to Inazuma with me if you don’t want to! Childe can come with me instead,” You said, gesturing to the ginger beside you.

Scaramouche’s eyes dart over to Childe’s direction. Childe smirks and drapes his arms over your shoulders, pulling you to his side and kissing your forehead. Scaramouche scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll accompany you to the City of Eternity. Just as long as we don’t step foot anywhere close to the Tenshukaku,” Scaramouche grumbles.

Before you can respond to Scaramouche, the man walks away with another annoyed huff of breath. You can’t help but feel bad. While Scaramouche begrudgingly agrees to accompany you to Inazuma, you can’t help but feel like you’re forcing him to. Pantalone and Dottore come up from behind you and pat your head while the other snickers.

“Don’t take it to the heart, [Y/N]. The Balladeer isn’t upset with you. It’s his resentment for his creator that’s making him cranky,” Dottore snickers, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You press your lips into a thin line, playing with the hem of your shirt. “I don’t know, Dottore. I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault,” you grumble.

Pantalone ruffles your hair and pulls you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. You sigh, resting your head against Pantalone’s chest and listening to his heartbeat against his chest. You sure hope Scaramouche’s sour attitude won’t affect the outing in Inazuma tomorrow. Still, knowing Scaramouche, he’s going to be sour the entire time until the both of you return to the abode. 

“What do you want to eat?” You ask, looking up at the menu with a sulking Scaramouche beside you.

Scaramouche lets out a long exhale through his nose. “It doesn’t matter to me. You pick,” Scaramouche replies, looking at his surroundings.

You nod and begin ordering for the both of you. After ordering your food, you and Scaramouche stand to the side, waiting for the cook to call out the number of your order. The minute you and Scaramouche arrived at Inazuma, Scaramouche had this permanent scowl on his face. You try not to let it ruin your mood, but the man is making it hard for you not to feel upset. You rest your head on the counter, waiting for the food to be ready. 

Footsteps approach where you and Scaramouche are standing. You assume it’s another customer until you hear a familiar voice. “Oh? [Y/N], and Kunikuzushi? What are you two doing here in Inazuma?”

You look up to see Ei standing before you and Scaramouche, with Yae Miko standing beside her. “Oh, no. This is not good.” You clear your throat and smile at the purple-haired Electro Archon and the pink-haired kitsune, who giggles beside Ei and waves at you and Scaramouche. Scaramouche’s face pinches with disgust before looking away from the two women.

“Your visitation was unexpected but not unpleasant. We hope you two have been doing well,” Yae Miko looks at Scaramouche, giving him a closed-eye smile, “especially you, Kunikuzushi.”

You can feel the crackling tension between the three of them. You scratch the back of your head and gulp. You smile at Ei and Yae Miko, only for it to turn out to be a grimace. Scaramouche huffs and turns to watch the vendor cook his and your food.

You laugh nervously. “We’ve been doing well! I wanted to stop by Inazuma to try some food and maybe do a little shopping while we’re at it. Scaramouche is accompanying me,” You reply, looking at Scaramouche from the corner of your eyes. “How have you two been? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you two!”

Ei smiles, tucking her hair behind her ears. “I have been busy. As the Electro Archon, there are many duties I need to tend to. And because I have been busy for a while, Miko stopped by the Tenshukaku and dragged me out into the city,” Ei replies, looking over at the snickering kitsune.

Scaramouche continues to ignore the two women standing before you and him. He rests his arm on the counter, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. While you, Ei, and Yae Miko are conversing, he starts tapping his foot on the ground.

“Can they be any slower? I just want my food and get out of here as soon as possible,” Scaramouche grumbles under his breath.

Yae Miko giggles. “If you and Kunikuzushi want to have a full experience in your exploration of Inazuma, I recommend stopping by a kimono shop. It’d be fun to dress like a local, no?” Yae Miko asks.

Scaramouche can feel Yae Miko’s gaze burn holes into the back of his head. Scaramouche continues to ignore the two women and taps his fingers on the wooden counter impatiently. You tap your chin, taking in Yae Miko’s words. It does sound fun, but would Scaramouche be interested in joining you in wearing kimonos and exploring the beautiful region?

You smile at Yae Miko and Ei, nodding. “That sounds fun! Thank you for the idea. I think we might try it out,” you say.

The two women nod before bidding you and Scaramouche goodbye and walking off. You turn around, and the food vendor places your and Scaramouche’s food down on the counter. You and Scaramouche ate in silence. The two of you have yet to look at one another after Yae Miko and Ei walked away. The tension between you and Scaramouche remains. You wipe your lips with the napkin and turn to face the Inazuman man. 

“What do you think about wearing kimonos as we explore Inazuma? If I recall correctly, Ayaka recommended a kimono shop called Ogura Textiles & Kimonos,” you say.

Scaramouche sighs, closing his eyes. “Alright, we can do that,” Scaramouche mutters.

Your eyes brighten, and a big smile stretches across your face. “Really?! You’re okay with wearing kimonos with me while we walk around Inazuma?!” You squeak.

“Mm. Yes, I’m okay with it,” Scaramouche answers. “Only because I want to see you happy.”

You throw your arms around Scaramouche’s shoulders, nearly knocking him back. You press a big kiss on his cheeks and nuzzle against him happily while Scaramouche wraps his arms around your waist and pats your back awkwardly. 

After finishing your food, you and Scaramouche walk to Ogura Textiles & Kimonos. You're excited and kind of nervous about trying and wearing a kimono because you've never worn one before, and you don't know what to expect. Is it too late to invite Ayaka to Ogura Textiles & Kimonos with you and Scaramouche to give her insights on the kimonos you and your boyfriend are going to wear? As much as you would love to ask Ayaka to join you and Scaramouche at Ogura Textiles & Kimonos, you don't think Scaramouche would appreciate having people tag along after what happened between Ei and Yae Miko.

You and Scaramouche enter Ogura Textiles & Kimonos, looking around the small store. You skim through the variations of kimonos, but none has captured your attention. Then there's Scaramouche, who looks uninterested but is trying his best to find something to wear. As much as he dislikes being in Inazuma, being with you makes it less painful and boring. An indigo kimono captures his attention, and he grabs it, only to realize there's another one beside it that matches but has a different design. Scaramouche reaches for the two indigo kimonos before he looks at you, only to see you glare at the kimonos before you while muttering something under your breath.

"Did you find anything?" Scaramouche asks, approaching you.

You shake your head. "Not really. There are pretty kimonos, but some of them aren't really my style," you mutter.

Scaramouche rolls his eyes, scoffing with amusement. "Well, in that case, here. Try this on, " Scaramouche says, handing you the indigo kimono.

You take the kimono from Scaramouche's hands and stare at it before going to the changing room after approaching the sales clerk at Ogura Textiles & Kimonos. Scaramouche sighs and leans against the wall, waiting for you to try on the kimono. This is probably going to be the only time when you and Scaramouche get to spend some alone time together. As much as he despises being in Inazuma, being away from the others and being alone with you is tolerable. Maybe while he's waiting for you to come out in the kimono, he should change into his as well. Scaramouche sighs and pushes himself off the wall, walking to the other store clerk to show him the way to the changing room. 

A few minutes after fighting with the kimono, you're able to change into the indigo kimono Scaramouche picked out for you. Well, with some assistance, of course. You walk out of the changing room and to the front of the store to see Scaramouche waiting for you in a similar kimono as yours but with different designs. You clear your throat, approaching the indigo-haired man. Scaramouche turns to look at you. His eyes widen slightly as the color pink slowly appears on his cheeks. “Scaramouche looks so cute when he’s blushing.” You smile at Scaramouche, holding your arm out and twirling for him. 

"What do you think? I say you picked the perfect kimono, Scara. Plus, we match!" You grin at the indigo-haired man.

Scaramouche clears his throat. "You look beautiful," Scaramouche mutters shyly. "I picked out the perfect kimono, didn't I?" Scaramouche murmurs, the corners of his lips quirks up.

You grin and nod, twirling around for Scaramouche to see the full view of the kimono he chose for you. You look at Scaramouche, admiring the view of him wearing something other than his daily wear. Scaramouche looks devilishly handsome in his kimono. Instead of going back to the changing rooms to change out of the kimono and buying it after, Scaramouche pays for the kimonos upfront and tells you to grab your clothes from the changing room.

You point at the kimono. "We're leaving Ogura Textiles & Kimonos wearing the kimono?"

"Yes, that is what you wanted, is it not?" Scaramouche asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You nod and rush to the changing room in the back to grab your clothes from the changing room. When you return, Scaramouche's holding a bag in his hands. The bag contains the clothes he wore prior to changing into the kimono. You put your clothes into the bag, and after Scaramouche pays for the kimonos, both of you walk out of Ogura Textiles & Kimonos. 

"Where do you want to go next?" You ask, looking around the beautiful city.

Scaramouche shrugs. "Doesn't matter to me. You lead the way, and I'll follow wherever you choose to go," replies Scaramouche.

You scan your surroundings and spot a dessert vendor from afar, calling out to passing citizens. Your eyes light up. You loop your arms around Scaramouche's left arm before dragging him to the dessert vendor. You know Scaramouche doesn't like Dango or any sweets that are sticky, so you're planning on ordering something that isn't Dango or is sticky. 

"One Dango milk, please!" You say to the vendor. Scaramouche makes a sound of distaste. You chuckle and shake your head. "Relax, it's for me. I'll get you something else. I know how much you don't like Dango or anything sweet that's sticky," you say, nudging Scaramouche lightly. 

You end up ordering Taiyaki for Scaramouche and another drink for him. You want to go shopping around Inazuma and see many things, but you don't want to overwhelm him with many activities. Maybe a little picnic under the Sakura tree trees will do. After receiving your order from the dessert vendor, you and Scaramouche begin walking around with your desserts and drinks in hand.

"Let's sit under the Sakura tree while we eat our desserts," you say, pointing over at the tree planted outside the city, away from the bustling crowd and prying eyes of two certain Electro users. 

Scaramouche wordlessly agrees and links his arms with yours as the two of you walk to the lone Sakura tree. Beneath the tree are two large boulders, large enough for you and Scaramouche to perch on top while eating your desserts and drinking sweet drinks. You brush the dirt and rocks off the boulders before sitting down, patting the spot beside you.

Scaramouche sits beside you and looks around, taking a bite of his Taiyaki. "Is this all we're going to be doing today?" Scaramouche asks.

You shrug. "Maybe! I know it's not a lot, but I didn't want to drag you around Inazuma City and overwhelm you with the things that are happening," you reply, uncapping the bottle of Dango milk and taking a sip. "We can still walk around and look at things together."

Scaramouoche hums, taking another bite of his Taiyaki. There are other activities that can be done in Inazuma, and he doesn't mind doing them with you. The only issue is the possibility of running into the Electro Archon and her Kitsune companion. Scaramouche tenses up when you lean your head on his shoulders with your eyes closed. He relaxes and sighs, resting his head on top of yours. You suddenly jerk, startling Scaramouche. Scaramouche turns to check on you, only to see you holding a Sakura bloom in your hands. Your nose scrunches up as you stare at the pink petal with scrutiny. 

You smile at Scaramouche sheepishly, rubbing your neck. "Hehe, sorry for scaring you like that. This Sakura bloom scared me when it landed on my face. I thought it was a bug," you whisper, tossing the Sakura bloom on the ground with a small huff.

Scaramouche snorts, shaking his head. "You get scared of the little things, don't you?" Scaramouche teases, pinching your cheek.

You huff again and look away, heat rushing to your cheeks. "Not necessarily! But since I have you here with me, I shouldn't be afraid, right?" You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

"What do you mean?" Scaramouche asks, tilting his head to the side.

You scoot close to Scaramouche, nodding. You loop your arms around his and snuggle up against Scaramouche with a content sigh. You rest your head on his shoulders, staring at the view of the ocean. Scaramouche blinks at you, waiting for you to reply to his question. Scaramouche nudges you. You look up at Scaramouche, who blinks at you, gesturing for you to explain.

You smile. "I have you here to protect me from harm," you murmur, leaning up to kiss Scaramouche’s cheeks.

Scaramouche scoffs and looks away, pretending not to like it. You stare at Scaramouche with a smile. The longer you look at him, the more you can see that his cheeks and ears are turning red. Cute. Dear Archons, Scaramouche is adorable. You chuckle and snuggle up against Scaramouche, taking a sip of your Dango milk. 

About thirty minutes later, you and Scaramouche leave your spot from under the Sakura trees before making your way back to civilization. Both you and Scaramouche decided to trek to the nearest island where a festival was once held when Aether and Lumine visited with Ayaka. 

You were surprised to see the island is packed with many visitors, not just from Inazuma but from other regions in Teyvat. Scaramouche makes a noise and squeezes your hands. You turn to Scaramouche, blocking his view of the festival-goers. You smile at Scaramouche and squeeze his hands.

"We don't have to stay here if you're not comfortable with being around this many people," you murmur.

Scaramouche sighs, looking around the island with a deep frown. While you and Scaramoche can do that, he doesn't want to hold you back from having fun and enjoying the festivities in Inazuma. Besides, it's not like Ei and Yae Miko are going to be at the festival as well, right? It'll be just you and him (and other festival goers) enjoying the food, snacks, and games at the Inazuman festival.

He shakes his head. "No, no. It's alright. We can walk around to see what catches our eyes," says Scaramouche, pulling you toward the large crowd of festival-goers and vendors.

You and Scaramouche go from vendor to vendor, checking out what they’re selling to the festival-goers, from desserts to street food to masks to prayer plaques. You and Scaramouche draw your wishes onto the pentagonal piece of wood. You have many wishes, and you weren’t sure what you wanted to focus on. “Is it possible to draw more than twenty-five people on the prayer plaques?” 

“Are you done?” Scaramouche asks, startling you.

You look at Scaramouche like a startled crimson fox. Scaramouche cocks an eyebrow at you; a small smirk appears on his face. You clear your throat, rubbing the back of your neck while staring at the blank prayer plaque. You don’t have a specific wish in mind. However, you want it to involve everyone in your life. Since there’s not enough space for over twenty-five people, one person should be good enough. 

You pucker your lips, shaking your head. "I haven't drawn anything yet! What did you draw?" You ask, poking him in the chest and trying to peek at his prayer plaque.

Scaramouche moves away from you, shielding the pentagonal piece of wood from your prying eyes. "I'm not showing you until you show me yours!" He huffs like a petulant child.

"Hmph! Fine! Just give me some time to think about it, and I'll show you mine," you say, walking to the nearest table to contemplate what you'll be drawing on the prayer plaque.

Despite dating Scaramouche, you only know a few details about him. From his background to the people in his life to how he became a Harbinger before being where he is now. The man is open to you, but Scaramouche has his shield up all the time. You assumed it was going to be bothersome in the beginning, but you don't blame him for putting a shield around his heart and putting up a cold exterior. 

You doodle a small image of you and Scaramouche standing beside each other with little hearts surrounding the both of you. Your wish is for Scaramouche's happiness and sense of security and belonging in Teyvat. You turn to Scaramouche and wave him over. Scaramouche walks over and crosses his arms over his chest, continuing to shield his prayer plaque from your view. You assume Scaramouche wants you to show him yours first, given the look he's giving you while keeping his prayer plaque covered.

"Don't make fun of mine, okay?" You mumble.

Scaramouche snorts. "As long as it's not ridiculous like wanting a vision," Scaramouche comments.

You roll your eyes. "It's not! I don't think I'm worthy of a vision in general because I'm not from your universe," you grumble.

Scaramouche takes a step closer to you, gripping your chin, and tilts your head up. "You're always worthy," He murmurs, brushing your bottom lip with his thumb. "Now, show me what you put on your prayer plaque!" Scaramouche pinches your cheek and tugs on it hard.

You wailed and smacked his hands, glaring at him after he released your cheek. You rub your aching cheek with one hand while cursing under your breath. You let out a long sigh before flipping the prayer plaque over and showing him the doodle, looking away from the indigo-haired man. Scaramouche adjusts the plaque and gazes at the doodles on the prayer plaque. You hear a small huff, causing you to snap your head in his direction.

"Care to explain to me what your prayer is? It looks like you want me to be shamelessly in love with you," Scaramouche teases, poking your forehead.

You sigh. "My wish is for you to be happy and feel a sense of security and belonging in Teyvat," you murmur, looking away from Scaramouche.

Scaramouche stares at you while you're looking away from him, your face feeling hot. Scaramouche chuckles and pinches your cheek for the umpteenth time today, making you groan and grab his wrist, pouting at him. Scaramouche pulls you into his arms and squeezes you tightly, kissing the top of your head.

"You're cute, you know that, right?" Scaramouche murmurs into your hair, stroking your hair. 

You peek at Scaramouche, wrapping your arm around his waist. "And what's on your prayer plaque?" You ask.

Scaramouche stares at you, nibbling on the inside of his cheek. You stare at him, waiting for the indigo-haired man to answer you. Alas, the both of you continue to stare at each other in silence while children laugh and other festival-goers murmur to each other. You narrow your eyes at Scaramouche, reaching up to poke his cheek, only for him to grab your hand halfway and lightly squeeze your hands.

"Tell me. I showed you mine and explained what my prayer was! Now, it's your turn to do it!" You said, puffing your cheeks out while glaring at him.

Scaramouche snorts, rolling his eyes and releasing your hand. "Alright, alright," Scaramouche sighs, showing you his prayer plaque.

It's a doodle of you and him— similar to yours, but his prayer plaque is slightly different. You tilt your head to the side, gazing at it questionably. You look at Scaramouche, silently waiting for him to explain what his doodle meant, but he doesn't say a thing. You look down at it again, scratching your cheek, trying to interpret what it could've meant, but only for your mind to blank.

"What's your prayer plaque about?" You whisper.

Scaramouche sighs, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours. "My prayer is for you to be by my side forever," Scaramouche whispers. "You're... precious to me, and I can't imagine my life without you."

You gulp, watching Scaramouche slowly open his eyes. Your eyes dart down to Scaramouche's soft pink lips before looking into his eyes. Scaramouche caresses your face, brushing your cheek with his thumb before leaning in to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in close to you. The kiss was rudely interrupted when a child bumps into your and Scaramouche's legs. You and Scaramouche pull away from the kiss to see the child scurry off with his siblings trailing after him. You close your eyes and rest your head on his chest while he wraps his arms around your waist. You and Scaramouche remain at the festival for another two hours before returning to Inazuma City, hand to hand, while chatting about your and his potential future.

On your way back to the city, the clear blue skies quickly change to dark gray skies, and rain starts pouring down on you and Scaramouche. The both of you run to the nearest motel in Inazuma City to stay until the rain calms down. While it wasn't your and Scaramouche's intention to stay at a motel in Inazuma, it's best to find shelter until the downpour ceases. You and Scaramouche can't return to the abode when it's pouring and thundering. 

After checking into a motel for the night, the clerk at the front desk hands you and Scaramouche the key to your room. You and Scaramouche are drenched from head to toe. Thunder booming from a distance and rain crashing to the ground, and bouncing off buildings fill your ears.

"What a good way to end the day," Scaramouche says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

You giggle. "It's definitely something! Although I wasn't able to cross 'kissing in the rain' off my bucket list," you sigh, pouting at Scaramouche.

Scaramouche pauses at the door and turns to you, raising his eyebrows at you. You smile at Scaramouche innocently before walking around him to unlock your and his motel room. When the door clicks, you open the door and walk into the room with a sigh of relief. While your kimonos are drenched, you're relieved that your and Scaramouche's clothes aren't drenched from the rain. The door makes a faint click as Scaramouche closes the door.

The motel room is lit up by two tall lamps in the corner of the room. It's not a typical Inazuman-style motel. Instead, it was a mix of Inazuman and perhaps maybe even Liyuen. You walk further into the room and stop suddenly, causing Scaramouche to bump into you. 

"Why'd you stop so suddenly?" Scaramouche asks.

You turn toward Scaramouche. "There's only one bed," You state.

He raises his eyebrows at you. "Okay and? I don't see the issue in sharing beds with each other. We are dating, right?" You nod. "Therefore, sharing beds shouldn't be an issue," Scaramouche says, pushing past you to put the bag of clothes down on the nightstand. 

Scaramouche is right! There's nothing to worry about! You and Scaramouche are dating, and it's normal for couples to share beds in motels like this. The more you look around the room, the more you start to realize something strange about the small motel. While it's a mix of Liyuen and Inazuman, there was something a little bit off about this motel. You walk to the drawer, only to find a small gray and purple box.

You tilt your head to the side, eyebrows furrowing. "Huh? What's this?" You murmur. 

You lift the box to your face, only to toss it back into the drawer and slam it shut after getting a clear look at it. Scaramouche looks at you, startled because you slammed the drawers shut. You clear your throat and turn to Scaramouche with a fake smile— Scaramouche motions to the drawers, gazing at you quizzically.

"Why did you slam the drawers shut? Did you see something?" He asks.

You gulp and smile at him sheepishly while shaking your head. "Oh, it was nothing! I didn't mean to slam the drawers shut," you lie, rubbing the back of your neck.

Scaramouche hums, getting up and walking toward you. You freeze and press your lower back against the cabinet, blocking the particular drawer. Scaramouche reaches behind you, grabbing a champagne cup and inspecting it. Where did that come from? You didn't even notice there were four wine cups behind you.

"Now, what are you hiding from me?" Scaramouche asks suddenly, placing the wine cup back on the stand and crossing his arms over his chest.

You sputter. "Nothing! I'm not hiding anything from you, Scaramouche!"

Scaramouche narrows his eyes, places both hands on your shoulders, and moves you out of the way. You groan and run your hands through your hair, mentally preparing for Scaramouche's reaction to the box in the drawer. Scaramouche looks at you, slowly opening the drawer without taking his eyes off your face, watching your expression very closely. He blindly reaches into the drawer and reaches around the semi-empty drawer before stopping when he feels a box.

Scaramouche diverts his attention from you and gazes at the box. Scaramouce reaches up and squints at the words printed on the box. Scaramouche snorts, closing the drawer with the box in his hands. He leans against the drawer, holds the box up for you to see it clearly, and chuckles.

"So this is why you tried to act like you saw nothing when you clearly see this," Scaramouche gestures to the box. "What, are you scared of a box of condoms?"

You bristle at the sight of Scaramouche's teasing smirk as he lightly tosses the box in the air and catches it with ease. How dare he teases you for getting flustered after seeing a box of condoms in the drawer! Is it possible that the previous motel visitor left their boxes of condoms at the motel? No, it couldn't be. Most people wouldn't forget something like this! Right? You gulp and tap your fingers on your thighs.

"I think this motel is a love motel," you squeak, looking anywhere but Scaramouche.

The indigo-haired man raises his eyebrows at your speculation. Scaramouche places the box of condoms on top of the drawer before walking over to you. You subconsciously step back, too embarrassed to look at the man before you. Scaramouche scoffs, grabs you by your biceps, and pulls you toward him. You squeeze your eyes shut as he grabs your chin and tilts your head up.

Scaramouche murmurs, "Look at me,"

You reluctantly open your eyes but nearly shrivel up in fear after seeing how close his face is to yours. You audibly gulp, locking eyes with Scaramouche as he smiles with amusement. Scaramouche feels joy and pride after seeing how flustered you become when he's so close to you. SCaramouche looks down at your plush lips, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip. 

"Why are you so shy, hmmm? Is it because we're in a love motel, or is it because you found a box of condoms in the drawers at a love motel?" Scaramouche asks, sticking his tongue out at you.

You look down, refusing to continue to lock gazes with Scaramouche. "Both," you mumble.

Scaramouche hums, kissing the side of your head. You gulp and grab Scaramouche's kimono, tightening your grip. Scaramouche caresses your face, his nose brushing against your cheek. Scaramouche's lips brush against yours. You close your eyes and close the gap.

Scaramouche wraps his arms around your waist while holding the back of your head with his other hand, keeping you in place. Scaramouche deepens the kiss while backing you up against the motel bed. The back of your knees hit the bed, sending you tumbling back. You look up at Scaramouche, who towers over you. Scaramouche kneels on the bed, caging you against the motel bed.

Scaramouche gulps. "You drive me crazy. Did you know that?" Scaramouche whispers.

Before you can open your mouth to respond, Scarmaouche leans down and presses his lips against yours. You automatically wrap your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss while tangling your fingers in his soft damp hair. Scaramouche straddles your hips and begins unraveling your kimono while your hands slide down to the obi and begin unwrapping his. Scaramouche breaks the kiss, brushes his lips against the base of your neck, and starts nibbling on your neck while pulling and yanking the obi off the kimono.

You arch your back to let Scaramouche take the obi off and watch him toss it to the ground. Scaramouche begins taking the kimono off you while you struggle to take the obi off him. Scaramouche chuckles and grabs your wrists, pinning them over your head. He leans down and gazes into your eyes, smirking at you. You gulp and stare up at Scaramouche, watching the pink muscle peek from his lips and swiping over his bottom lips.

"I love watching you struggle," Scaramouche chuckles, trailing one hand down the kimono and opening it.

Your face becomes warm as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling Scaramouche's eyes wander over your almost naked body. Scaramouche bites his lips as he slides one hand down to your chest and gropes it hard. You gulp and peek at Scaramouche, watching him fondle your chest. Scaramouche leans down, takes a nipple between his lips, and begins swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

You whimper softly, clenching your fist on the bedsheets. "It's not fair for you to tease me like that," you whine, arching your back and letting out shaky moans the more Scaramouche sucks and licks your nipple. 

Scaramouche releases your nipple with an audible 'pop' before looking at you, raising his eyebrows. "If it's not fair for me to tease you, then it's not fair for the others to have you before me," Scaramouche huffs, getting off the bed before grabbing you by the calves and yanking you toward the edge of the bed. 

Scaramouche yanks the kimono off your body, tossing it to a nearby chair, and runs his fingers through his hair. Scaramouche gazes down at your almost naked body with hunger. Scaramouche pushes your legs apart with his legs while taking his kimono off his lithe body. The Inazuman clothing slides off his body like melted butter, leaving him in his black, tight-fitted boxers, allowing you to see a prominent bulge. You look away from Scaramouche, face hotter than it was. 

Scaramouche snorts. "I don't understand how you're so flustered. This isn't something you haven't seen before," he smirks.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I know, but...." you trailed off.

Scaramouche hooks his fingers over the band of your panties, raising his eyebrows at you. "But?" Scaramouche asks, waiting for you to finish your sentence.

You shake your head. Scaramouche shrugs and slides your panties off, letting them pool around your ankles before throwing them into the pile beside the bed. Now, Scaramouche can take his time on you and do as he pleases. But seeing you sprawling out on the bed, naked with your legs spread, your entrance dripping with need, makes him not want to take his time with you. He wants to be inside of you immediately, plowing his cock in and out of you until you scream and cum around his cock. Scaramouche clenches his jaws and takes his boxers off. His boxers pool around his ankles before stepping out and kicking it to the side.

Scaramouche's cock slaps his abdomen--- the mushroom tip is pink and glistening with pre-cum. Scaramouche reaches down, spreads your folds open, and dips his middle and ring finger into your sweltering heat. You gasp and involuntarily clench around his fingers, whimpering and letting out breathy moans as he steadily pumps his fingers in and out of your entrance. You dug your nails into Scaramouche's arms while he fingers your entrance repeatedly.

Scaramouche leans over you with one arm, buries his face into your neck, and begins leaving hickeys all over your neck. You hook one leg over his waist and pull him toward you. You blindly reach for his erect cock and begin pumping his throbbing hot dick. Scaramouche grunts and bites down on your neck. You tense and arch your back as a choke moan escapes your mouth. All you can hear is heavy breathing coming from you and Scaramouche, the squelching of your sopping-wet entrance, and your hand meeting the base of his cock with each stroke.

The tip of Scaramouche's fingers hits a gummy wall, causing you to freeze in his arms and squeeze his cock. Scaramouche groans and slowly pulls his fingers out from your hole. You release his cock and stare at him with lidded eyes. Scaramouche smirks and licks your juices off his middle and ring finger. You bite your bottom lip, watching Scaramouche suck on his fingers. You can't help but look down at his throbbing red cock, watching it bob up and down from the slightest movement.

"What? You want a taste?" Scaramouche teases, gripping his cock in one hand before kneeling on the motel's bed with one leg and caging you in with the other.

You nod, licking your lips while eyeing Scaramouche's throbbing red cock. Scaramouch hums, pumping his cock while watching your expression closely. Your eyes are hazy with lust and need, your chest heaving up and down with each breath you take. Scaramouche hums, tapping and rubbing the bulbous tip of his cock between your wet folds. You shudder when his dick rubs up against your swollen bundle of nerves. 

"I really want to," you whisper, finally taking your eyes off his cock.

Scaramouche snorts, continuing to coat his cock with your juices. "I don't know about that, Sakura Bloom. While you may say that you want a taste, your body seems to want something else," Scaramouche murmurs, grinding and rubbing his cock against your entrance. "What is it that you really want, hm? Do you want to suck my cock, or do you want me to fuck you until you can't walk?"

You don't respond to Scaramouche's teasing comments as he continues to teasingly rub his cock up and down your folds, coating the underside of his cock in your slick. You whimper and bite on your bottom lip. You want to suck Scaramouche's pulsating cock and slurp up all of his cum until there's none left. But you also want Scaramouche to plunge his cock into your sopping-wet heat until the walls of your insides make a mold of his cock.

You throw your head back with frustration. "I don't know! I don't know! Scaramouche, I want both!" You whine, gazing up at Scaramouche pleadingly.

Scaramouche scoffs, prodding your entrance with the tip of his cock. "If you can't decide, then I will make the decision for you, pet," Scaramouche chuckles.

"Wait, what?!" 

Scaramouche rams his cock into your wet entrance, causing you to shriek and involuntarily clench your walls around his throbbing cock. Scaramouche pants, propping both his arms beside your head as he sinks his aching dick deep inside of your gummy walls. His eyes roll to the back of his head, gripping the bedsheets hard until his knuckles turn white. Scaramouche pants, burying his face into your neck, latching his teeth on your neck, and nibbling on your skin.

You whimper, locking your legs around his waist and pulling him close to you until your bodies are pressing up against each other. Your walls clench around Scaramouche's dick, trying to adjust to his size. Scaramouche groans, biting down on your neck. You let out a breathy moan when Scaramouche's pubic bone rubs up against your swollen bundle of nerves.

"Stop tensing up so much. Relax your body or else...." Scaramouche trails off, letting out a deep guttural groan.

You pant, digging your nails into his pale back and dragging your nails down to his lower back. You can't help it. The sudden intrusion caused you to tense up and clench around his cock. You take deep breaths, close your eyes, and attempt to relax your body. 

"Or else what? You'll cum on the spot?" You choke, cracking a weak smile.

Scaramouche doesn't respond. You peek at him to see his cheeks are red, and so are the tip of his ears. How cute. Scaramouche nearly cummed when your gummy walls clench around his cock while trying to adjust to the sudden penetration. You can't help but snicker, causing the indigo-haired man to snap his head in your direction with a glare. 

"Why are you giggling?!" Scaramouche hisses.

You shake your head. "Oh, it's nothing! I find it cute how you nearly cummed," you giggle.

Scaramouche glares at you and thrusts sharply into you. You hiss and arch your back, legs wrapping tightly around his slim waist. He smirks and thrusts into you again, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head, jaws dropping, tongue lolling out of your mouth when the fat mushroom tip of his cock hits a certain spot inside you.

"You seem to like that," Scaramouche comments, scoffing.

Scaramouche pushes himself off you, keeping his cock buried inside you. He stands at the end of the bed, grabs your hips with an iron grip, and pulls you toward the edge of the bed until your ass is hanging at the edge. Scaramouche begins hammering his cock in and out of your heat with no remorse.

"Oh, fuck!" You yelp, grabbing the edge of the bed for dear life as Scaramouche rams his girthy cock in and out of your quivering hole. 

Scaramouche growls, grab your hair by the roots, and pulls on it hard. Scaramouche yanks your head back and leans down while continuing to thrust into you with fervor. Scaramouche slams his lips against yours, your and his tongue rubbing against each other. Scaramouche rubs his pubic bone against your swollen, throbbing nub, making sure to put a lot of pressure while doing so. 

The bed creaks beneath you while Scaramouche pistons his cock into you repeatedly. Your whimpers, moans, and yelps fill the room while Scaramouche's growls and pants overlap yours. 

"You're a filthy slut, did you know that? Sleeping with multiple men before me," Scaramouche growls, ramming the tip of his cock into your g-spot.

You wailed and arched your back, digging your heels into his asscheeks. "Be gentle, Scaramouche! It hurts!" You whine, clawing his back until his pale skin turns red.

"Ha! Did you really think I was going to be gentle with you? A slut like yourself needs to be taught a lesson," Scaramouche growls.

Scaramouche suddenly pulls out of your sopping-wet entrance abruptly, making you cry out in protest. Scaramouche climbs onto the bed and lays on his back. He reaches for your arm and yanks you toward him. You stumble and land on his chest. Scaramouche flips you over on your back so your back faces him and adjusts you on top of him.

Scaramouche slaps your ass, "Ride me."

You huff in response and grab the base of his cock, and sink down onto his cock. You lean back, place your hands on his stomach and begin to bounce on his cock. Scaramouche grabs your wrists and pins them back, and thrusts his cock up into your entrance. You grit your teeth and plant your feet on the bed beside his thighs and begin bouncing up and down on his cock.

Scaramouche suddenly stops you midway, hooks his arms underneath your knees, and brings them up until your knees are beside your shoulders. He clasps his hands together and begins thrusting up. The new position has you gasping and curling your toes as the bulbous tip of his cock rams into your cervix repeatedly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You gasp, head falling back as you succumb to pleasure. 

Your entrance spasms around Scaramouche's cock as you're nearing your end. An all too familiar feeling starts forming in your lower abdomen as Scaramouche batters his cock against your g-spot. Scaramouche's thrusts start to become sloppy as he starts chasing after his orgasm. Scaramouche releases one leg and reaches for your swollen nub, pinching, squeezing, rubbing, and twisting the throbbing nub. 

The tight knot in your lower abdomen suddenly snaps, and you cum all over his cock before collapsing onto him. Scaramouche slams his cock into your cervix, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum deep inside of your entrance with a growl. He releases your other leg and presses his cock inside you, making sure to fill you to the brim with his cum until there is nothing left.

Scaramouche wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to lay beside him, his cock remaining buried inside of your cum-filled entrance. You take a deep breath and open your eyes, vision still blurry from your orgasm. Scaramouche mindlessly reaches for the blanket and covers your body. Scaramouche presses his lips against the back of your head, closing his eyes and trying to catch his breath.

Scaramouche reluctantly pulls his cock out from your entrance. You wince at the emptiness before gingerly rolling over to face Scaramouche. Scaramouhce caresses your face and kisses your jawlines, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his chest. You press your hands against his chest and close your eyes.

"You cum fast," you mumble.

Scaramouche scowls and pinches your ass. You squeal and slap his hand away from your ass, glaring up at Scaramouche.

You huff. "That's not a bad thing, you know! It means I got a good—"

Scaramouche covers your mouth, his face bright red. You remove his hands from your face before scooting close to him, hooking your leg around his waist. You freeze and shudder, feeling the mix of your and Scaramouche's cum oozing from your sullied entrance. You slowly remove your legs from Scaramouche's waist and wince.

The birds chirp outside, and the sun peeks from the blinds. You close your eyes and snuggle up against Scaramouche, lacing your fingers with his while Scaramouche kisses the side of your head. The door slams open as you and Scaramouche are about to fall asleep. You and Scaramouche jump and stare at the door, covering your naked bodies with the blanket. Dottore and Pantalone step into the motel room, looking around the messy room with amusement.

"Ah! So that's where the two of you wandered off!" Pantalone chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Scaramouche hisses, "What are you two doing here?!"

Dottore giggles and steps over your and Scaramouche's discarded panties and boxers. "Well, we heard there was a storm going on in Inazuma, and Lord Ayato sent us out to search for the both of you!" replies Dottore.

You hold the blanket against your chest, heat rushing to your face as you stare at Pantalone and Dottore, completely mortified. Pantalone closes the door behind him before walking over to where Dottore stands, flashing you and Scaramouche a teasing smile. Oh no. You recognize that smile of his.

"You heard us, didn't you?" you whisper.

Dottore and Pantalone nod. "That we did."

You collapse onto the bed while Scaramouche stares at the two men with disgust and embarrassment. Wait, how did they get into your and Scaramouche's motel room so easily? You're going to interrogate them when you guys return to the abode. You're too mortified to question them while butt-naked under the blanket. 

Note: Ahhh, not the best smut, I tried my best 🥹 it's been a while since I've posted something for the Crave smut series, and I hope I can post more in the future. I'm not entirely satisfied with how short this fic (mainly the smut part) is, but I will try to make it up to you Scara simps in the future! I do have an idea for a Scaramoche individual fic, and I'll most likely toss smut into the mix. If you're new here and have never read my fics before, I do have another Scaramouche smut you can read. It's Route 1 of the Burning Desire series (in my masterlist). I like that smut better than what I have written out for Crave 7, mainly because it's longer. If you guys want, you guys can join my discord server to get fanfic updates and see the progress of the upcoming fanfics in [Zhongli's Server]. You're not obligated to join, but it'd be nice to have new members :) Please be respectful to everyone and remember to follow the server rules. Anyway, to all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @lunarapple, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @heyimkay, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings to see if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[maltesejjong]

after being ia for so long, and losing the passwords to my original tumblr and wattpad accts, i am happy to say i am BACK, even if you don’t know who i am lmao. For now, imma be doing reposts of my old tumblr and wattpad posts before i start new content. Enjoy!

꒰ঌ(⃔ ⌯' '⌯)⃕໒꒱

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What’s Really Going On?

Summary: you and you boyfriend Minho have been together for a while now. Years, as a matter of fact. There’s no reason for there to be secrets, especially when it comes to your body. But after missing an appointment you had been anticipating and tension from an argument nights prior still brewing, the truth comes spilling out

WARNINGS: dom!minho, afab!reader, oral sex (both receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please y’all don’t be stupid), use of traffic light system, fingering (reader receiving), swearing, mentions of pregnancy complications, i think that’s it? Please lmk if i missed anything

Wc: 5971

MINORS DNI, THIS CONTAINS 18+ CONTENT

5:30 pm

You sigh and pocket your phone. Fifteen minutes. He's fifteen minutes late.

Of course, he's been late before, but never like this.

Fifteen minutes, you normally let slide. You just can't imagine that he'd be late when today is so important.

"Y/n! Babe!"

You turn at the sound of your name, and somewhere in you, even though it's not fair, you think eighteen minutes.

Nevertheless, you pocket your frustration and smile the smile only he can draw from you.

"Minho!"

He comes up to you, putting his arm around your waist and kissing your cheek. "I'm so sorry, baby. Traffic was horrible," he explains.

You understand, of course. It's a random Wednesday, but a major band is in town, and 500 lucky people in the area got free tickets.

But that isn't why today is so important to you.

"Why didn't you leave sooner?" You ask, slightly miffed that he ignored your suggestion to stay the night with you, so you would both be on time.

Minho doesn't answer, but you're sure you know what he's thinking. "Babe," you say, holding his arm to make him look at you, " I'm not mad, okay? It was just a bit...much." You bite down in the apology trying to jump from your lips, knowing it could just do more damage.

"What?" He looks slightly confused, as if he forgot the argument you two got in a few days ago. "Oh," he says as the memory resurfaces, "I know. I'm just thinking. Nothing bad, y/n. Just work stuff."

"Okay..."

You arrive your appointment with ten minutes to spare, feeling thankful for the cop that had created a barricaded lane for people not going to the concert, making it easier to navigate the traffic-choked streets of your usually quiet city.

"Wait here," you whisper to Minho. "Hi," you say as you approach the lady behind the desk, "I have an appointment with Mia Loffe."

The secretary, who you've never seen a day in your life at Mia's, types something on her keyboard. "Of course... Let me see... Okay, what's your name, dear?"

You swallow the reaction trying to escape at being called "dear" by someone so young. "Y/n Bang."

"Bang... Bang..." she mumbles to herself, searching what must be a busy schedule. You know Mia's been slammed with work, but she made sure there there was at least an hour for you to come in.

You even booked an appointment, something you never do with Mia, just in case.

"Okay, um, Ms.Bang?" Dread fills your stomach. "It says here that some things had to be rescheduled, but Ms. Loffe has maybe ten minutes, if you'd like to pop back there real quick."

"I, uh... No, that's alright," you say, knowing that Mia is probably getting ready for her next appointment. You don't hold it against her for not letting you know that between last night and today, there was a shift in schedule. "Can I leave a message with you? I don't want to call her while she's working. Will you please just tell Mia to call me when she's not busy?"

The secretary scratches the note onto a pieces of paper and sticks it onto her computer. "Of course. Is there anything else I can do?"

"No," you say, trying to fight the sinking feeling in your chest. "No, thank you though. Have a nice day."

"You, too, Ms. Bang."

You round the corner to see Minho scrolling through his phone. "C'mon," you say quietly.

Minho looks up at you. "Hey." He stands up. "Did Mia kick you out or something?"

You don't answer, except to say "There was a change in schedale, so i'm comine back another You don't answer, except to say "There was a change in schedule, so I'm coming back another day." You can't help but feel annoyed at your boyfriend for his lateness. Mia had even said to make sure you were there at least thirty minutes beforehand, just in case. This, you feel, is largely Minho's fault.

Minho picks up that you don't really want to talk, and doesn't pry as you drive back to your place together.

"Babe," Minho says softly once he's closed your front door, "What's wrong?"

You keep your back to him, trying to contain your feelings. "Nothing, Minho. I'm just a little tired," you lie.

"Why don't you change, and we can watch a movie?" He suggests. "I'll order takeout later, okay?"

You agree, and go change into one of his hoodies and a pair of shorts. When you come back to the living room, you see that your boyfriend's hands have not been idle. He set up a little nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, just the way you like it when you watch movies together, snuggled in close and pressed against one another.

"Is this okay?" He asks when he hears you behind him. "I wasn't sure how much you wanted snuggles, but..." he trails off as he turns and takes in your outfit. No matter how often Minho has seen you wear something of his, it gives him a rush every time.

Clearing his throat, he says "What do you want to watch?" Your ongoing agreement is that you get authority over movie snacks, and he gets authority over what food gets ordered. You both always pick what the other likes most, though, and you switch off who gets to pick the movie.

"I don't really care," you say dismissively. "You can choose. I just want muddy buddies and popcorn."

He smiles warmly, hiding his concern behind deep chocolate eyes. "Choi's alright?"

You nod, as he knew you would. "Don't forget the crab ran-goons and crispy beef," you say, putting a bag of popcorn into the microwave and nuking it.

"Oh, and egg rolls."

"Babe, I got it," he teases. "You act like I haven't known you for twelve years."

"And loved me just as long," you say to yourself, remembering the day your older brother, Chan, came home with his newfound friend, someone named Lee Minho. It wasn't the fact the he was Korean. No, Chan had lots of Korean friends, and you had you fair share. It wasn't his name. It wasn't his age or complexion.

It was his eyes. The way his nose crinkles when he smiles. It was how he acts like the mom of the group, even to the guys older than him, reminding someone to put on sunscreen, or, more often than not, cooking for everyone.

Later, it was also the way he started to look at you, like you weren't "Chan's kid sister" but a girl worth his attention, even though you're three years younger than him. It started as getting more "older brother" attention than the others. Then, you learned what flirting is. It became shy touches and bold smiles. Inside jokes and feeling jumpy if Chan was there when you were together. It became hidden kisses and climbing onto one another's rooftop in the middle of the night to watch the stars and talk. It became Chan walking in the room right when your lips touched Minho's, blouse slightly unbuttoned.

The microwave beeps, bringing you out if your trip down memory lane. Carefully picking the hot bag up by a corner, and reaching for the bowl you had put on the counter. You sigh as the smell of butter and salt taunts your stomach. You hear sounds from the TV as Minho skims past different movies.

Minho glances over his shoulder at you while you shake some ttekboki into a bowl. You can feel the worry and questions rolling off him. It took years for you to recognize the care, hidden beneath such a brash and forceful facade. He always plays his emotions close to vest, but knows how and when to pull back. That hasn't changed, except now, he has a heart that's completely open to you.

"What did you choose?" you ask, coming into the living room.

He's standing in front of the TV, arms crossed, remote pointed at the screen. "Action movie?"

"Okay," you say, setting the snacks onto the ottoman.

You lose yourself in the movie, and eventually, you don't even notice what's going on in the plot, because, as always, you re more tuned in to the Minho show. Every point where your bodies touch, his warmth, this feeling of security. You smile as his lips touch your neck for what must be the tenth time.

"I'm gonna put the order in," he says, his words warming your skin.

"Okay," you mumble, somewhat sleepily. "I'm taking a bathroom break."

He nods, his phone to his ear.

When you come back, you decide to get some water. You go to the kitchen and reach into the dish rack to get a glass. You aren't really paying attention, and nick your finger on the knife you washed this morning, after cutting an avocado. In your preoccupation with your appointment with Mia, you had left the knife pointing upwards.

"Shit," you yelp, waving your hand.

Minho comes into the kitchen. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Just cut my finger," you say, sucking on the cut, blood staining your tongue.

He gently pulls your finger away and examines the cut. "It's not deep," he says, sounding relieved. "Here." He turns the knob on the sink, and water starts flowing from the faucet.

You gingerly put your finger under the water, hissing at how cold it is. Minho stands behind you, his chest touching your back as he massages your hand under the chilly water.

"You gotta be more careful, y/n," he says with a slight laugh.

You ignore his words, and instead focus on the feeling of his fingers kneading your hand, his breath on your skin. Your pulse quickens predictably. As it always does with him.

"Thanks, babe," you say, gently pulling away, trying to calm yourself, but not entirely sure you want to.

Minho opens the medicine cabinet, searching for a band-aid. "Food'll be here in about half an hour. Maybe 45 minutes," he says, his back to you.

Something in you says "fuck it" and you go over, hugging him from behind.

You feel his muscles jump, but his voice is steady as he says "Hey, pretty girl. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you say, your cheek pressed against his back. You know you should talk to him about the appointment with Mia, but you don't want to. Not yet. You have other things on your mind.

You stand on your tiptoes and press your lips to the back of Minho's neck. He brings his arms down, abandoning his search for a bandage. "Babe?"

"Minho," you say quietly, in the same tone you use every time you're feeling a little naughty.

You can hear him swallow. "Y/n?" He turns to face you and you look into each other's eyes.

After a moment, you lean forward and kiss him, keeping your lips closed. You know he finds this as both an annoyance and a turn-on.

When you pull away, you see confusion in your boyfriend's gaze as he tries to decide which route to take. You know that he's going to wait to see what you do first.

Looking him dead in the eye, you say "Stop being such a gentleman." The code word you use to let him know what mood you're in.

You know he's decided to go with it, that he wants this too, when he says "I've never known a lady who doesn't wait for the man to make the first move."

He kisses you, hard. No playing around, no lead-up. You know this is going to get rough. Just how you like it.

He's still leaning against the counter, and you wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his tongue meet yours. You make some vague noise at the back of your throat as he somehow manages to kiss you even deeper. His hands grip the hem of his hoodie that you're wearing, and he pulls it over your head.

"Thought so," he murmurs against your mouth.

You aren't wearing a shirt. Somehow, no matter what, he always knows. One of the Minho mysteries you have yet to figure out.

Not wanting to waste any time, you yank his shirt over his head. He laughs, tousle-haired and swollen-lipped. You trail your fingers over his lean torso, one of the many results from years of dance. You love that he's a dancer, that he couldn't give less of a shit about stereotypes. It's sexy as hell.

You lean into him, forcing him to practically bend backwards, kissing him as roughly as you possibly can. He slips a hand into your waistband, his fingers teasing. You bunch his hair into your fists, knowing he won't go any further.

Not after the other day.

Not unless you tell him to.

His touch is like fire, burning into your skin. You moan slightly against his lips as his fingers slowly move to your clit, waiting to see if you'll stop him.

You don't.

What you do do is drag your fingers down his chest to his jeans, and start to unbutton them. Something you've done so many times that you could do it with one finger and your eyes closed.

Except.

There's a nervousness zapping your spine and bubbling in your stomach that hasn't been there in a while, making you fumble.

Thinking that your slip is due to him, Minho starts to pull back, but you grab his wrist with your other hand, leaning back to look in his eyes.

"Don't stop," you say.

He swallows, seeming to feel the same nervousness.

He nods and places his lips on yours, kissing his way down your jaw and to your neck, his lips gentle while his fingers are anything but, making your walls clench like crazy.

"Damn, y/n," he mutters.

"Minho... the couch. Please," you say in a strained voice.

He gathers you up and moves into the living room, a short transition in the small apartment.

You lay on your back, biting his neck, his lips, his tongue, as he works a second finger into you. Your hips lift off the couch.

"Y/n."

You look at him, seeing the question in his eyes.

You nod slowly, feeling your stomach jump. You watch him pull his fingers out, covered in your juices. He pulls your shorts down your legs, followed by your panties. He runs the same fingers that were just inside you up your ankle, your leg, to the inside of your thigh.

Minho makes eye contact with you again and you nod firmly. Yes. The green light.

He kisses the inside of your thigh, working his way to your entrance. When he gets there, you re clenching so hard around nothing it hurts. You ball your fists, trying not to make the noises so desperately trying to escape.

You wait, anticipation racking your body until he pushes your legs a little farther apart. Then he gets to work.

Finally, you can't take it anymore. "God, Minho," you moan.

"That's it, baby. Let it go. Sing for me, I want to hear that angelic voice if yours."

It feels so good. Perhaps too good. You can barely believe that you picked an argument with him over this.

You arch your back as his tongue enters your body and he makes some noise when your walls tighten even more. He pulls back and says "Relax, y/n."

"I'm trying," you mutter through clenched teeth.

As if to help, Minho starts rubbing your thigh. "No, babe, that doesn't—-" you cut yourself off, trying to get a grip. "Minho- I can't- agh-"

"Just let go, babe"

That's exactly what you're trying not to do. It's what you got so upset about on Sunday. The way you just lost control, how he encouraged it. He was a little confused, because you used to love it, the rush, the feeling, and now, he said, you're acting like it's your first time all over again. He was hurt because you called him greedy. You regret it, and you know he's going to make sure to make you such a mess and so needy that you really regret it.

One strong suck is all it takes to make you come.

You moan, grabbing at the couch as he pulls away, a devilish smirk on his face. He comes back with his fingers, shoving three fingers into your pussy, his thumb stroking your clit.

"Minho, I can't... You're gonna make me- uh!" You exclaim, coming all over his fingers.

"You know you want me," he hisses, but not maliciously. You shake your head, trembling. "Don't you?"

Again, you shake your head.

"Are you sure?"

"No. I don't want—"

"I can't hear you." He pushes his fingers even deeper.

You bite your lip, trying to pull him closer so you can kiss him, but he just raises an eyebrow in that way that drives you wild and pushes his fingers against your walls.

"One more chance, y/n. You know you want me, don't you?"

Yes," you gasp out. "I want... so bad..."

He smirks. "Who's the greedy one now?"

"Me," you pant. "Greedy bitch. I know. I'm such a dirty-"

"Keep going," he says.

"Dirty ho." Your clit aches painfully against his fingers as a fourth stretches it out. "So... such a- a slut,” you pant, somewhat hysteric.

"Mmm. You can do better than that."

You push him onto his back, yanking his jeans and boxers away.

"There you go," he says.

"In me," you beg. "Please?"

"Hmm.. I don't think you've said 'thank you' yet."

You start kneading around his dick. "Why should I?"

“I require payment," he says, his voice still so steady.

You cup your hand around his erection and start moving up and down. You take the tip of him in your mouth, tongue circling as you suck gently.

"Good girl."

You decide to show no mercy and suck as as you can, making him groan.

"Y/n. I can't-"

"To bad," you snap. "Try."

"God, you're so hot when you're fired up."

"Stops fighting."

"Oh, but then there'll be nothing left for you."

"There always is," you reply. "I’ll even be nice and help you," you say, right before he lets go and comes all over your hand and chin. "There's a good boy."

He pretends that he didn’t whine at the pet name. “Shall we call it even?" He asks, even though you know he's in no way finished.

"Oh, no," you say. "I'll let you choose."

"On your back," he orders. You comply. "And get the bra off. Stop acting like you're some innocent angel."

You drop your bra to the ground, right before he starts kissing your neck, his hands squeezing your breasts.

He moves to sit on your stomach, and you know what's coming. He holds his hand under your chin, and you spit into his palm, obliging. He uses your spit as a lubricant for his dick before he positions it between your tits, moving them back and forth, rubbing against him.

You feel him go hard almost instantly and smile inwardly. You knew he wasn't done yet. He's never down for the count that early on.

"Minho. Stop wasting time."

He raises his eyebrow again. "Who's in charge here?"

“Asshole,” you spit out. “I just fucking tolerate your orders.”

He hums in consideration. "What do you think?”

You stroke the tip of his dick, making him shudder. "Fuck me, Lee Minho. Show me what you've got."

The second you say it, you wish you could take it back.

"Challenge accepted."

This is going to be a long night.

ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆

You're leaning against the arm of the couch, watching your boyfriend enthusiastically eat a bucketful of shrimp lo mien the same way he had eaten you out not too long ago.

"You hungry?" He asks, using his chopsticks to gather the noodles into his mouth.

"Mmm. Maybe later. I'm just exhausted. Tired."

"But not tired of me, right?"

You flash him an amused look. "Unfortunately not." Your entire body is sore, your legs are weak as hell, and your clit is pounding with pain. You give him an appraising look. "You seemed to hold your own longer than usual."

Minho shrugs, mouth full of noodles. His hair is a tousled mess, his bare chest and neck covered in hickeys and teeth marks. You're sure that you're no different.

You tug the sleeves of his hoodie down over your hands and pick up your phone. "Oh, fuck," you say, realizing that you have a missed call.

"What's up?"

"Mia tried calling me earlier," you tell him. "But..."

"You were a bit busy," he supplies with a shrug. He twists away from you to grab another carton of lo mien, and you see that his back is bright red and covered in scratches. You reach out and trace a puffy red line, feeling him shiver under your touch.

"God, babe. Your fingers are freezing."

You trace another line, realizing that there are tiny beads of blood on his back. "Holy shit. Minho. Baby. Why don't you ever stop me?"

He shrugs, opening the lo mien. "I'm fine with it. I like it. You seem to like it. It also kinda kills the mood.

"But if it hurts—"

"It dushnt," he tells you, noodles hanging from his mouth like octopus tentacles.

"Still. What if I scratch too hard and actually cut you instead of just scraping the surface of your skin? Stop acting like 'the mood' is more important that your health."

He doesn't meet you eyes as he quietly says "Are we really going down this path again?"

You sigh and push your fingers into your hair.

"Maybe. Yes. I don't know!"

"Babe. I don't really know what you want me to say anymore. I told you not to worry about me."

"I'm not just worrying about you, Minho. I'm also thinking about me."

He twirls his chopsticks in the lo mien container. "Do you, y/n? Because you seem to have a tolerance the size of fucking Kilimanjaro. You never tell me to stop, even if, quite frankly, I'm exhausted and can't keep going. But I do. I do for you."

You feel your neck getting warm. "Well maybe it's your own fault for not telling me you need to stop."

"I do, though. I do, and you listen when I tell you I'm out. I'm more so a bit ticked off that you never tell me to stop. Do you remember what I said to you all that time ago? Did you even care? Because that was me, caring."

You close your eyes, remembering the color system that he devised for you, signals as to when to tell him to stop, if something he's doing hurts. "Yes, Minho. I remember. But I said that also goes for you! And you-"

"Use it when I really need to," he interjects.

"Well... well maybe I just don't really need to, then," you huff.

He cocks an eyebrow, and you tell yourself it's just an eyebrow, not a sexy move from your boyfriend. Definitely not something that turns you on.

The truth is, you've always been scared to use the light system. It's always green. Green means go. Even though you and Minho had had feelings for each other since you were in primary school- the last year, but still— that didn't stop him, who was three years older, from meeting other girls and going out with them, and you didn't try to stop him. You yourself went out on dates, kissed guys and did everything short of getting fucked for real. You wanted Minho to be the one to get your cherry. And he didn't disappoint.

Through it all, though, he had plenty of experience, experiences that you couldn't compete with unless it was oral. He told you green light means all good. Yellow is "I need a break" and red is stop. No questions asked. Whatever you're doing ends and you do something that doesn't involve sex. Red and yellow both mean "this hurts, I'm uncomfortable" of some degree.

Though you've definitely needed to, you've been worried about how Minho would react if you tell him to stop. It's one of the other reasons you argued with him on Sunday, but he doesn't know it. You made it seem like he just takes and takes, when really, it was that it hurt. You couldn't keep going, even though it hadn't even been 15 minutes when the pain kicked in. You were embarrassed. He was able to go on for God knows how long, and you weren't lasting anywhere near as close as him that day.

The look Minho gives you tells you that he's calling BS.

"Y/n."

You look at him. "Minho?"

"Look." He's always down his container of noodles and shrimp. "I know that's not the case. Why don't you try telling me what's actually up."

A spark of frustration heats your chest. "What's up, Minho, is that, thanks to you being late, we missed our appointment with Mia!"

Minho leans forward, massaging his temples. Finally, he drops his hands, his elbows balancing on his knees, and he looks over at you. "Is that what this is all about? I'm not ignoring the fact that you're dodging my question, but why didn't you say something to me?"

"Because... because it's just-"

"Not worth it? Babe, clearly it is. You wouldn't even tell me why this appointment was so fucking important to you. So important that I had to be there, which I found odd, because you usually tell me you want to see Mia alone. Which is fine, because I know that's the only girl time you two get together, so I found it strange that you wanted me there."

You clench your fists, hidden from view by the long sleeves of your boyfriend's hoodie, trying not to explode.

"And," he continues, "you still haven't told me the full story as to why you were actually upset on Sunday. You just called me greedy and said you weren't in the mood anymore. So please, please, will you tell me what's wrong? What's been going on?"

"I..." you look into his amber eyes, trying to fight the truth.

Minho puts a hand on your knee. "Y/n. Baby. Please."

The words come spilling out. "It's not that you're greedy. It's not that I don't enjoy the sex anymore. It's that... it's that I'm scared," you blurt. His expression is startled, incredulous as you go on.

"I'm scared to tell you no. To tell you to stop, that something hurts. It makes me feel like shit, when something hurts and I start to feel tired by the fifteen minute mark when you haven't even gotten started. It's not every time. But that's what was happening on Sunday. Sometimes it makes me ashamed, how much I just... it's like I'm a different person when we have sex. Sometimes I don't recognize me. Like, I turn into a mess. You turn me on like that" —you snap your fingers— "and somehow, you get me to cum four times in less than half an hour. I needed to feel justified in my feelings of 'I can't anymore' and I was scared to flat out tell you to stop, so I told you that you were being greedy and it was a turn off. And I'm sorry, Minho. I'm so so sorry for calling you greedy and disgusting. The truth is, I feel greedy and disgusting, wanting so badly, wanting so much, when I can't go on, or when you need a break. Sometimes I feel annoyed that you need to stop." You bury your face in your hands. "God, I'm such an asshole." You try to prevent the tears prickling behind your eyes.

"Y/n. Look at me. Please." You lower your hands to see Minho. "I'm sorry. Babe, why haven't you said something? If it hurts, if I'm hurting you, then you should tell me. If you can't anymore, tell me. Yellow light. Red light. Doesn't matter. Don't feel ashamed, okay? To tell you the truth, sometimes I can tell you're tired, but I'm never sure whether or not I should slow down and stop because you never tell me to, and I worry about accidentally offending you. I don't want you to think I'm assuming you're weak."

"Anyone that can ride Lee Minho for even fifteen minutes cannot be weak," you joke.

"Point taken. As for being a totally different person during sex? Well, yeah, you're gonna act differently when you're fucking. Think about it: do you go around constantly calling yourself a dirty ho and greedy bitch when you're at work?"

You don't say anything.

"I mean, unless you're getting it on with a coworker. Then we might have some problems."

That gets a laugh from you. "God, no. No, Minho. I understand what you're saying. It just... I feel ashamed and dirty after the fact. Like 'was that really me'?"

He smiles gently. "Yes, and I get that. But you have to know that there's no reason to feel that way. I don't think any less of you. And, in case you don't remember, you aren't the only one yelling and moaning and talking dirty, okay? You also aren't the only one that gets turned on instantly and cums a billion times. Then again, I, personally, can't really help it."

You smile again, that special smile that you save for him.

"Now. What about this appointment with Mia?"

The smile drops from your face as a slight panic sets in. "What about it?"

"Baby, please don't shut down now. Keep this going, okay? Why were you so upset to miss a meeting with Mia?"

You bite your lip, contemplating. "I... I'm maybe... something came up, and she... she's had a few times dealing with this with other people and knows what to do and I wanted you there so we were on the same page."

"Okay," he says slowly.

You feel your hands start to shake. "I guess it has to do with why I was so punchy these past few weeks..."

"Oh. I though it was PMS."

You shake your head. "No. Maybe a little bit, but mainly no. The truth is.." you hesitate, trying how best to go about this. "I have a rare immunodeficiency."

Minho looks at you with disbelief. "What?"

"I... I have a rare immunodeficiency," you repeat shakily.

"What is it? How did you find out?"

"Well... I actually found out from... from us having sex."

Minho's eyes widen. "Have I somehow gotten you sick? What happened? Does this have to do with why it hurts you so much?"

"No, I'll explain in a second, and possibly." You look down at your hands. "Let me ask you this: you'd say we're usually pretty... careful, right?"

He nods. "If I remember correctly, told me to download that app that tracks your cycle so we both have a record of your ovulation schedule and know what days to avoid completely. And you regularly remind me to make sure I have condoms both here and at my place and you have some sort of birth control, but you stopped taking it because it was causing some sort of issue, so no more of y/n's birth control. Correct?"

You nod. "But we're only human, and even technology can't predict something that fluctuates like a woman's period. Because it does change."

Again, he nods. "True... Wait." He looks up at you, lips parted. "Are you..?"

You shake your head. "No, babe. I'm not pregnant. Not anymore."

"Anymore?"

You nod. "Yes. I've technically been pregnant five times in the past two years."

Your boyfriend stares, mouth agape.

"After the fourth time, I went to the doctors. Do you remember how I had that constant bout of sickness?"

"I remember."

"Well.." you squeeze your fingers, preparing yourself. "I was getting so sick because my body was thinking that each fetus was actually a virus. At the same time, my body was naturally like 'okay we've got a life force in here to grow and protect'. Essentially, my body was waging a two-sided war on itself. One side to protect the baby, the other trying to get rid of it."

"But why?" You can't help but be thankful for how calm he's staying.

"You're taking this remarkably well. Better than I thought you would, anyways." You hug your arms to your chest. "Explanation: my body isn't accepting your DNA."

"So, essentially, I'm making you sick. But only when you end up pregnant?"

"Exactly."

He shakes his head. "God, y/n. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I... I wasn't sure how," you say meekly. "I mean, I'd be like 'hey, babe, guess what? I'm pregnant. Surprise!' Just to be like 'Ha. Sike!I'm not pregnant anymore' within a month."

He sighs. "True. Holy fuck. Five times?"

You nod and laugh a little. "Yeah. Guess we know what that means."

He nods conspiratorially. "Yep. Probably should've listened to everyone being like 'be smart. Be safe. Always use protection', huh?" He rubs the back of his neck. "Is there a way to fix it?"

"Fertilization treatments," you say glumly. "I hear they're absolute hell."

"But it'll be worth it, right? I mean, you don't get sick and... I mean, if you don't want kids, that's fine, I just thought... I'm not saying I'm assuming anything. I mean, obviously it's your choice, I just thought..."

For the first time, you realize just how… nervous this news is making him. Your boyfriend, the always cool, calm and collected Lee Minho is a flustered and stuttering mess. It also hits you that he actually, really, truly wants kids. He wants kids... with you. Which must mean...

No. You can't get sidetracked. Whether or not he proposes is up to him. You'll always be ready to say yes.

Back to the task at hand.

"Minho. Babe, calm down. Of course it'll be worth it."

He starts shaking his head, almost frantically. "No, no, no. Don't make a decision based on me. Do it because you want to. Don't-"

You put your hand on his knee. "Hey. Deep breaths. Yes, I want the treatments."

His body sags in relief.

"I want to get this fixed. I can't have a family if my body is killing off our kids. I dare say you'd prefer it if your children actually made it out alive."

His eyes widen at your statement. You run it through your head, trying to catch your mistake.

Then you realize: you just laid out a future of togetherness, marriage, and parenthood with Minho in those three sentences.

You try to backpedal, feeling like you've overstepped, even though you've talked about a future together many times. "I just meant, if you were me— I didn't mean—"

He cups your face in his hand. "I'd prefer it if my children made it out alive," he says softly, placing a hand on your abdomen.

You smile, relieved that you've finally told him. As Minho leans in to kiss you oh so softly, you close your eyes, envisioning your future.

[givemea-dam-break]

daughters of the evening

⭒⭒⭒⭒ in which luke’s descent from good may be found.

pairing: luke castellan x (fem) reader

a/n: hey guys!! first fic in a while and i know, i know, pjo book readers are disappointed in me… but i’m just a girl! i’m literally just a girl! please enjoy my brain baby i love her :) i love writing quests so much, so this was really nice to write for my first fic back on tumblr. i hope you guys enjoy! if anybody wants to be added to my pjo taglist, let me know!

warnings: canon typical violence, book spoilers, blood/injury description, rusty writing

words: 5.8K ⭒⭒⭒⭒

(y/n) couldn’t remember when the change in Luke became permanent.

She could remember the hints of something at the corners of his eyes, something that bit at the happiness that filled them, eating away at it like rot on wood. She could remember the slow decline in his respect for his father, respect that had barely been there for years, though was now bridging on outright disrespect.

She could remember the crux of it all, the very moment in which all of the little things began to coalesce into something ugly. A flash of claws, the deep scarlet of mortal blood followed by shimmering gold ichor. The horrible sound of screaming. Gleaming fruits of gold. Gorgeous, blooming green trees towering above them that concealed the violence below.

It was after the quest that Luke, her Luke, was never the same.

⭒⭒

“I don’t remember San Francisco looking like this.”

Luke’s lips curled into a smile. “You’ve never been to San Francisco.”

(y/n) rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen it in movies through which I have lived vicariously. It’s in one of the Indiana Jones’s, right? Looks different.”

“Those movies are from the eighties,” Luke said. “So, yeah, it’s going to look different.”

Charles Beckendorf, their questmate, heaved a sigh. “Do you guys ever stop?”

“Stop what?” (y/n) asked.

“Being annoying? Flirting? Whatever you want to call it.”

Her face felt awfully hot and she found herself unable to even look in Luke’s general direction. It was a comment that had been made many times in the past, one she was sure Luke was sick to death of, but she found herself yearning for comments like it. They meant that maybe she wasn’t dreaming up something between them.

Either way, she didn’t acknowledge it, rather stuffing her hand into her unzipped backpack and scrounging around until finally she found what she wanted. With a dramatic flair, she revealed three paper maps, each embellished with their names written in colourful pen at the top.

A moment of silence, then Luke said, “Why do we need a map each? Can’t we just share? And where did you even get those?”

“I got them back in Salt Lake City, before we happened upon that massive crab, you remember the one? All blue and slimy.” She pressed the maps into their hands. “There are multiple because knowing you both, you’ll lose them and I’m not buying any more. But, look! They’re colour-coded. Green for me because, duh, Demeter. Orange for Beckendorf, red for you. We can at least make this quest for some stupid apples interesting.”

Beckendorf raised a brow, giving her a strange look. “With glittery gel pen?”

“Glittery gel pen makes everything better,” she insisted. “I’m glad you acknowledge that. Now, come on. With all this talking you two have been doing, we don’t have much time to spare. You’re like a pair of gossiping grannies.”

The two shared a look over her head, one they thought she didn’t see, but it only made her hold back a laugh. They were a relatively upbeat group as it was, but she prided herself on keeping the mood light, especially when danger was looming. With the might of glittery gel pens, a travel-size game of Monopoly, and a cheesy puns book they had picked up off the side of the road, they would be unstoppable should their enemies need a good laugh.

It wasn’t that they weren’t capable of what was ahead of them that she felt the need to joke around, it was just her regular nerves. The three of them were experienced and powerful demigods, skilled fighters and strategists, the best of the best. Luke had his immense skill with a sword and the mind of a trickster; Beckendorf had the brains and strength of a blacksmith, and could sense a trap a mile away and disarm it in moments; (y/n) herself was a powerful daughter of Demeter and, though not to the standard of Luke, was also skilled with a sword.

They hadn’t faced much trouble before. They were a tried-and-tested trio, having been on multiple quests together in the past and finding themselves working well together. 

This time, it seemed like a match made by the Fates. A quest ordained by Hermes, Luke’s father, to retrieve the Apples of Immortality from the Garden of the Hesperides - gardens and plants being the domain of Demeter and, by extension, (y/n). And, no doubt, there would be many traps or the need for a strong mind, hence Beckendorf. He was a year or two younger than she and Luke, but had proved himself upon countless occasions. She trusted him with her life.

Almost a week now they’d been on this quest, and still she felt like a giddy child. Almost seventeen and, at her big age, she was holding back smiles and giggles befitting of a schoolgirl with a crush. Part of it was gratefulness that a demigod such as Luke had chosen her to join him on this quest, even after being friends for years and having gone on numerous quests together already. Part of it was simply that she was madly in love with the boy.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, then, watching the way the afternoon sun gleamed on his face, setting his dark eyes alight with flame. There was a curious smile on his lips, one that concealed mischief and intelligence; one she had loved for as long as she could remember. His hair was messy after days of travelling and not bothering to fuss with it - she dreaded to think of what her own looked like, the only mirror she had being her sword - but there was something so extremely endearing about it. Wild curls that gave his lightly-freckled face even more life.

Their maps didn’t help their hunt for the Garden an awful lot. For what had to have been at least two hours, they stumbled around the city, turning this way and that, earning odd looks from strangers. 

“For being the son of the god of travellers,” (y/n) said, “you are horrendous at reading a map.”

Luke gave her a nudge with his elbow as he scanned the map. He was grinning. Her stomach was doing cartwheels. “Maps make sense enough, but I think these ones are out of date.”

“Maps don’t go out of date, stupid.”

Beckendorf was holding back a smile. “I think he’s right. I think our maps are too old.”

(y/n) glowered at them, plucking their maps from their hands. Fine. They didn’t deserve to hold maps graced with her glittery gel pens anyways.

“Well,” she said. “Unless either of you have any ideas, we’re going to be stuck wandering for hours. Come on, Luke. Use your magicky journey powers. They got us this far.”

His eyes shone, and her knees felt a little weak. She loved it when he looked at her like that, when she had said something funny. It was as though the heavens themselves had descended and flooded his face with light and beauty. She couldn’t look away.

“It’s a big garden,” he retorted. “Find the big garden, daughter of the mighty Demeter!”

She knew he meant it as a joke - the sarcasm was practically dripping from his voice - but there was something in his tone that she couldn’t identify. Something deeper than a simple sarcastic comment. This had been a pity quest, of sorts, she knew. Luke had been getting restless and his father had wanted to satiate him, but it wasn’t enough. He was displeased with the gods, to say the least.

But he kept a good lock on his expressions, on his words. She wouldn’t have suspected a thing had she not known him as well as she knew the feeling of grass beneath her feet.

Eventually, combining their powers and the single brain cell that seemed to be taken by Beckendorf, they found their way to the Mount Tamalpais State Park, which was not open to visitors now that the sun was setting.

They stared up at the distant mountain, the sloping greenland and towering trees that led towards it, and heaved a synonymous groan. Quests could never be even slightly easy, it seemed. Why would the gods let them head to a random park in the city when they could have them trespassing in a state park at night, lives in the hands of the monsters and animals alike that roamed the woods? The gods would rather have them arrested than have something be easy.

“You’re kidding, right?” Beckendorf said. “We don’t have to walk all that way?”

(y/n) frowned. She wished more than anything that they could just turn around and leave, a feeling she did not often get on quests. But something didn’t feel right. There was a twist in her gut, a deep intuition that told her something was going to go wrong.

But her gut was also pulling her towards the mountain. There was a power there, unlike any she had felt before, and she wanted to know what it was. 

“We’ll be fine,” she insisted, though she didn’t feel entirely sure herself.

She was the first to make the step towards their darkening fates. If she had known the outcome, she would have turned and fled immediately.

The three of them trudged up the path, flicking on torches when the sky grew darker and the ground in front of them too hard to see. It gave them an eerie glow, entirely unlike the warm glow of their weapons. All of their features were in stark contrast to the dark surroundings; Luke’s cheekbones, Beckendorf’s eyes, her brownbone. It was disconcerting, and it felt all too much like they were the lead characters in a ghost story.

She was considering turning back about halfway there. The tug in her gut was becoming stronger, almost unbearable, and her head was pounding, filled with the worry of the possible incidents that had not happened yet. 

The only thing that kept her going was Luke’s pinky finger wrapped around hers.

Maybe he felt her nerves, so acute that she feared her sinews and tendons and bones could snap at any moment. But Luke knew her. He had known her since they were barely teenagers. He knew her better than she knew herself: every habit she had; every face she made; every hint of a feeling before she knew it was coming. He had some deep understanding of her, one that would have made her feel vulnerable in any other situation with any other person. Luke was not any other person.

His pinky was wrapped around hers tightly, warmer than the rest of her body put together. It curled around hers just so, acknowledging her worry. His jacket sleeve brushed hers.

It wasn’t until they reached the Garden at the foot of the mountain that his hand wrapped around hers fully, encasing it entirely in warmth and comfort. His palms were calloused, fingers ribbed with light scars, but she could not imagine it any other way.

The Garden of the Hesperides was easily the most beautiful place she had ever seen and was likely the most beautiful place she would ever see. Stars hung above them in the night sky, glittering so brightly it was as though they could reach out and touch them with their outstretched fingers. Lush green grass coated the ground beneath their feet and beyond, speckled with flowers so bright they almost glowed in the dark. It was bristling with life, so full of it that (y/n) could feel it all deep in her bones.

But the source of the power lay further afield.

A tree, much taller than the rest, stood at the centre of the garden, boasting more golden apples than (y/n) could count. Its branches swayed in the faint breeze in mesmerising swoops, and the scent of fresh fruit laced with something that could only be described as addictive brushed over them. A faint mist swirled around the trunk of the tree, glittering slightly in the moonlight.

“Holy Hephaestus,” Beckendorf murmured, slack-jawed.

“That’s one big tree,” Luke said. 

“You certainly have a way with words,” (y/n) said.

His hand only squeezed hers in response. She could feel his heartbeat in his wrist. How was it so steady?

There was a shift in the wind, then, and a soft bite came into the air. Goosebumps prickled the skin of their arms, raising the hair there. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but she swore she could hear the faintest lull of singing voices and could feel the weight of some large presence in the air. Nothing could be seen but the beautiful garden and the decadent tree in the centre.

“Luke Castellan,” said a soft voice. Luke visibly tensed, eyes narrowing at the usage of his surname. “(y/n) (l/n). Charles Beckendorf. We have been expecting you in our Garden for quite some time now.”

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. But, finally, after a few moments, the speaker emerged from the fine mist.

She didn’t look like much, appearing to be barely older than (y/n), but there was something about her surrounding aura that suggested she was much, much older. Dark, inky hair tumbled over narrow tawny shoulders, framing even darker eyes that shone with unknown magic. The woman seemed to blink slowly, as if bored or tired, and it looked as though she were merely floating over the ground rather than walking. It was hard to tell. Her Greek chiton covered her feet.

“We are the Hesperides,” she said, voice ever gentle, as four more women appeared, each almost identical in appearance. “Daughters of the Evening. Nymphs of the Sunset. Protectors of this Garden. What is your business here?”

There was a cockiness to Luke’s smile then, one that had (y/n) on edge. “If you’ve been expecting us, then surely you know our business.”

The lead Hesperide drew nearer, stopping a few feet away from their trio. Her sisters gathered at her sides, dark eyes sparkling with stars and cold curiosity and something overtly bitter. The demigods were clearly unwelcome here, but they intended to make a game of their quest.

(y/n)’s hand squeezed Luke’s in warning. He spared her a glance, her heart drawing still when his warm eyes met hers. His chin dipped slightly in a nod, and he gave her hand a squeeze before turning his attention back to the Hesperides.

“We’ve been sent here on a quest by my father Hermes,” Luke announced. His voice held more confidence than she felt. “We’re here to retrieve a golden apple.”

It was strange watching the Hesperides’ heads tilt in unison as if they were each an extension of the other. Voices lulled around them, soft and gentle, and the worry seeped from her very bones. Her hand fell from Luke’s. Something felt strangely at ease in her stomach despite their circumstances.

“You may try,” said the lead Hesperide. Her skin glimmered like marble in the moonlight. “Our dearest Ladon protects this tree with his life. He does not sleep. Every second of every day, he guards our gift from Gaea, the goddess Hera’s wedding gift. Do not think it will be easy to pass him.”

The Hesperides seemed to fade into the mist, then, their bodies becoming light and transparent as they slowly backed away until nothing was left but the faint singing swirling around them. The voices gave (y/n) a strange feeling, as though pulling her towards the tree.

“Who’s Ladon?” Beckendorf asked.

The three of them stood for a moment, watching the swirling mist.

“A dragon,” (y/n) said. “A big dragon.”

She could feel his presence, she realised. The heavy weight that had settled over them upon entering the Garden, it couldn’t be anything else. Even still, she could feel him through the ground, like an impending sense of death and doom. She’d had similar feelings before, an innate knowledge that the strawberry fields were close to wilting one year. Campers had called her crazy, but she knew. The earth knew.

And it knew now. She was horribly aware of the heaviness in her gut that surrounded the bright power of the apple tree. It could be nothing but Ladon.

“Any ideas, Luke?” she asked. “You’re our idea guy.”

He scoffed. “Since when? You’ve been dragging us around by our ears this entire quest.”

But he could see the nerves that she felt. He knew how strange this was for her, to feel so deeply worried about a quest. He knew something was wrong.

“I’ll get the apple,” he said, and his shoulders rose with confidence. His hand, the one that had held (y/n)’s moments ago, twitched just so. “I’m the fastest out of the three of us. You two, keep our friend distracted.”

There was a deep grumble at that moment, as if Ladon were making himself known. It shook the ground and the boughs of the tree trembled. Sweet-smelling apples tumbled into the mist.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to get the apples?” (y/n) asked. “You brought along a daughter of Demeter for a reason.”

He smiled softly at her. “That’s not the reason I brought you along.”

And, before either she or Beckendorf could protest his stupidity or question his statement, Luke’s glowing sword materialised in his hand and he was running into the mist.

The mist spread apart as his feet made contact, and (y/n)’s heart dropped. Beckendorf, one of the bravest demigods she had ever met despite his age, had a tremor in his hands as he pulled free his sword.

Within the mist was the largest monster (y/n) had ever seen. It was wrapped around the tree in a serpentine-like way, scales glimmering in the moonlight like molten copper and bronze. Massive claws sunk into the dirt surrounding the tree, at least the length of her forearm and as wide as Beckendorf’s. Every breath it released shook the branches of the tree as though caught in a gale.

The most horrifying part: the dragon had a hundred heads.

She had read about Ladon, had familiarised herself with the myths surrounding the Hesperides. Days before the quest, she and Luke had sat down at the canoe lake, poring over old history books that told the tale of Heracles and his Twelve Labours, one of which was the very quest they were being made to repeat. Luke had made a joke of it back then, unhappy with the quest he had been given and disbelieving that what they faced would be much of a threat.

But Ladon was no joke. It was an entirely different thing seeing drawings of the dragon and seeing him in real life. His hundred heads slithered through the air like snakes on the water, luminous yellow eyes watching the demigods with piqued interest. 

Even Luke faltered.

A deep breath came from all two hundred of the dragon���s nostrils, washing over them in a hot, acidic wave. The smell alone was horrendous, like an old, decrepit sewer filled with rotting rats, and it had the hairs on her arms standing and her eyes burning. 

She was worried that she may never be able to move again, frozen in place by the sheer might of Ladon, but when Luke turned to look at her, blood flooded into her veins again. He was counting on her. She wouldn’t let him down.

Ladon expected a frontal assault. He was waiting for Luke to attack, watching like a predator on prey, but he did not expect the very tree he protected to act against him.

With a heave of energy, (y/n) stretched out her arm and watched as the tree’s trunk began to swell as if filling with liquid. Ladon’s serpentine body writhed around it, twisting as he moved to accommodate the growing tree. The branches above him shook, dipping towards the ground slowly. Too slowly.

The dragon seemed to realise what, or who, was causing the change, and snarled ferociously. It was at that moment that Beckendorf grabbed a ball of Celestial bronze from his belt and, with a strong arm and remarkably good aim, threw it at the beast.

An explosion of green ignited before them as the ball slammed into Ladon’s thick hide. The dragon roared, whether in pain or fury, and set its bright gaze on (y/n) and Beckendorf.

Fear coursed through her body. She could hardly breathe. The branches wavered, pausing the pursuit to the ground. Beckendorf launched another one of his Celestial bronze bombs.

A pity quest, that’s what this had been. But, maybe, it was more than that. Maybe this was Hermes’ punishment for Luke wanting more from his life. Maybe this was (y/n)’s consequence for falling so irrevocably in love with Luke - for feeling the way she did, she would have to follow him to impossible circumstances.

But none of them deserved it.

It was at that moment that Luke took his leap.

With speed befitting a child of Hermes, he leapt onto Ladon’s mighty body, feet finding purchase on his rough scales, and launched himself upwards towards the descending branches.

For a moment, there was hope. Even Heracles had not retrieved the apples by facing Ladon, but maybe Luke would. Perhaps Luke would succeed where Heracles had not. Pride swelled in her heart, coated her tongue like warm honey, and she almost smiled.

Copper-coloured claws flashed in the moonlight. A chorus of soft, harmonising voices swirled around them like mist.

Mistake, they sang. The boy has made a mistake.

There was a cry of pain so guttural that (y/n) felt it in her soul. Her feet were moving before she could truly comprehend what was happening. The grass tried to reach for her ankles, tried to stop her in her mission, but nothing could. Had a god stood before her, she would have found her way past them. Nothing could stop her, not even this dragon that caused such fear in her bones.

She reached Luke as Ladon wound around the tree tightly, snarling protectively. Something in the beast’s demeanour hinted at pain beneath the danger, and when she saw the gold blood pooling just a few feet away, she knew why.

A claw, one of Ladon’s, severed from the knuckle down lay strewn in the grass. The dragon hissed as Beckendorf snatched it up, hefting his sword as (y/n) pulled Luke away.

He was bleeding badly. A deep gash ran from the tip of his brow down to the corner of his  mouth, somehow missing his eye but cutting just above and below. His skin was already becoming dangerously pale. Her hands were covered in blood. His blood. She was going to be sick.

“Hey,” she murmured, gently laying his head on her lap. Her hands trembled as she reached into her bag. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Luke shuddered, eyes half-lidded and struggling to find something to focus on. “Are you -?”

“I’m fine,” she said. After a terrible moment, one that took far too long, she pulled free a small vial of nectar, wrapped tightly in old face-cloths to keep it from smashing in her bag. Her hands couldn’t stop shaking as she tried to unwrap it.

Beckendorf knelt beside her, claw at his side, and took the vial from her hands. She didn’t know how his hands could be so steady. She could hardly breathe. Not with Luke so injured, not with Ladon eyeing them hungrily.

He handed the vial back, and she propped Luke’s head up slightly. With a hiss of pain, she managed to open his mouth just enough to pour the small amount of nectar in. He swallowed with a struggle.

There was no telling how long it would take the nectar to work, but they couldn’t stay there under the watchful glare of Ladon, who looked ready to attack again. (y/n) took a trembling breath.

“Beckendorf,” she said, “are you able to carry him? At least until we can get out of this place. I can try - I can clean the wound when we’re safe.”

He nodded and hoisted Luke up into his arms, careful not to jostle his head too much.

She didn’t realise she had been crying until they stopped.

Beckendorf set Luke down on a soft patch of grass beyond the Garden, and (y/n) tucked her jacket underneath his head. The nectar seemed to be working, albeit slowly. Some colour was returning to his skin, but it was hard to see under all of the blood.

“You’re okay,” she murmured again, but she wasn’t sure who she was telling. She wiped her tears with the back of her hands.

She grabbed one of the face-cloths the vial of nectar had been wrapped in, soaking it in water from her water bottle, and slowly brought it to Luke’s face.

His eyes seemed to have some ability to focus now, watching her beneath a glaze of pain. It tore her soul in half to see him in pain, wincing as she gently dabbed the blood from his cheek. Her fingers were stained. His cheek was, too.

“I’m going to keep watch,” said Beckendorf. “Those Hesperides gave me a bad feeling.”

(y/n) nodded, watching for a moment as he trudged a few feet away, just out of earshot, but her focus soon returned to Luke. She tried not to think too much about how his hand was gripping her knee as she cleaned the rest of the blood.

“Is the nectar working?” she asked when she saw his eyes drooping. “What does it taste like?”

His gaze found hers, warm and cloudy. A pained smile fought its way onto his lips despite the slowly-healing scar on his cheek. She could see the skin trying to sew itself back together with the aid of the nectar.

“That smoothie you made a few months back with the - with the camp’s strawberries,” he uttered. “And whatever those green leaves were.”

She found herself smiling despite the red coating her hands. “Mint. And it was that good, huh? Last I checked, nectar for you tasted like that weird concoction of Coke and Sprite you liked so much.”

For a moment, his eyes grew distant before refocusing on her face. They flickered over her features as if seeing them for the first time. His hand felt awfully warm on her knee.

“Anything you make is better,” he said. 

“Is that so?” She brushed his hair back from his face softly, cleaning the last bits of blood.

His skin was still stitching itself back together, but the nectar seemed to have stopped the bleeding. Second by second, blood flooded back into his face, giving him the colour that seemed to have been leached from his skin.

He nodded, his smile seeming as though it pained him less. His hand slipped from her knee, coming up to wrap itself around hers. The cloth fell from her fingers and onto the grass. Her fingers were still wet, though in the dim light she couldn’t tell if it was from water or lingering blood. She didn’t have the stomach to find out.

“You said you didn’t bring me on this quest because of my mother,” she said cautiously. Her heart was pounding in her chest. “So why did you?”

A soft squeeze of her hand. “This wasn’t a quest I wanted to do without you,” he said. “I like having you by my side. You give me strength.”

She was sure he could feel her pulse beating rapidly in her fingers, but he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t need to. It was entirely likely that he was able to read her mind, he knew her so well. And she was okay with that.

“You’re stupid, you know,” she said, but her voice wavered.

“Stupidly brave?” he suggested. “Stupidly handsome? Stupidly charming?”

“I’m supposed to be supporting you right now,” she grumbled. “Not the other way around.”

His cocky grin was back and her heart fluttered. “Which one is it?”

“Which what?”

“Stupidly brave, handsome, or charming?”

All three, she thought. All three and so much more.

“Stupidly stupid,” she decided. 

Her thumb grazed his cheekbone, the one without the scar, and a shiver ran through his body. His hand tightened on hers and his smile softened into something more personal. It was the kind of smile she would have leapt into Tartarus to ensure its permanence on his lips. Soft and kind and reserved just for her. If she'd been standing, her knees would have buckled.

“You give me strength, too,” she murmured.

A sliver of hair slipped in front of her eyes, and moments later, Luke’s free hand was there, gently brushing it away. His eyes sparkled. They seemed clearer now, less agonised.

The events of the last hour - gods, it had felt like much longer - came crashing back onto her at his touch, asphyxiating and terrifying. Overwhelming guilt filled her veins and arteries with terrible speed, sapping all the strength from her bones. Her fingers trembled once more.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her throat felt suddenly raw. “If I’d done a better job distracting Ladon, maybe you wouldn’t be hurt.”

Luke’s eyes were dark for a moment, swirling with something she couldn’t identify, but they softened seconds later. His hand rested on her cheek, warm and comforting, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at his eyes now.

“This is not your fault,” he said, and his voice was remarkably strong. “This is the gods’ fault. It’s my father’s fault. But it is not your fault.”

She tried to believe him, truly she did, but looking at the fresh scar on his face, even having been almost entirely healed with nectar, had her heart heavy in her chest. 

He knew this. Gods, he knew her every thought. His hand slipped from hers, cupping her other cheek and tilting her head so that she would look at him properly. There was a flush to his cheeks now - good, it meant he was getting better. 

“My father did this,” he insisted. “You hear me? This was not you. And, gods, believe me when I say that I’m glad it was me that went for the apples and not you. I couldn’t live with myself if you got injured.”

But you did, she wanted to say - no, scream. How do I live with that?

“I’m okay,” he said softly, cautiously, as if talking to a child who had just woken from a nightmare. “I’m okay.”

His hand fell from her face, taking hers in its grip once more, and placed her fingers on the newly formed scar.

She jerked back, terrified that the sensation would cause him more pain, but he just gave her that smile again, the one that made her knees feel like jelly, and pressed her fingers to it once more. Already, the skin was raised and slightly twisted, accommodating for the injury. She could faintly feel his pulse beneath his skin, slow and infuriatingly steady.

“It doesn't hurt,” he promised. His voice was so reassuring that she could feel it in her bones, and she was half-convinced he was secretly a child of Aphrodite, blessed with charmspeak. “I’m okay because of you.”

Her throat was achy. “And Beckendorf.”

He gave a small laugh. “And Beckendorf. But mainly you. You’ve given me strength.”

It was then that the world itself seemed to stop. He was leaning upwards, bringing her face close to his, and his lips brushed hers so softly that she feared she may have been dreaming the entire encounter.

She could taste the faint remnants of metallic blood, though it was easily brushed aside. Luke’s lips were slightly wind-chapped but she found herself uncaring when they slotted perfectly against hers.

This kiss was something she had been waiting years for, and it was better than she could have ever dreamed. The feeling of his hands on her, his lips against hers, it was something that could not be replicated in a dream, like flying for the first time and feeling the clouds beneath your fingers.

It was addictive, more so than the stupid apples that had caused Luke such pain, and she found herself wanting more. It was an effort to pull away from him, but eventually, she did. Beckendorf was only a few feet away and she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. It would make for an awkward journey home.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Luke murmured.

Finally, there was a smile tugging on her lips again. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting.”

It took another hour or so before Luke was well enough to get moving. The dark trails gave all of them a bad feeling, and (y/n) wasn’t able to shake the almost hypnotic choral voices of the Hesperides until they were out of the State Park. Luke was shaky on his feet for a little while but his strength was returning.

And with it came anger.

Not anger at (y/n) or Beckendorf, no. He still smiled at them as usual, fingers entwined with (y/n)’s so tightly it was as though he was afraid she would slip away. Jokes still slipped past his lips despite the events of the evening.

But he was filled with fiery rage. It was hidden, but (y/n) could read him like a book. She had seen the inklings of it throughout the previous days of their quest, had seen it more clearly while she was cleaning the blood from his face - this anger, though, was pure. Harder to mask.

He had already been furious with his quest, a detail he had tried to keep hidden from her. He hated the idea of repeating history and the fact that this quest was simply made to satiate him, to prevent him from growing restless at camp and questioning the authority of the gods.

This was a breaking point.

It became clearer the more time passed. As the days and weeks went by, he would hold her hand like a lifeline and kiss her so softly it felt as though she was dreaming, but the anger never left. It ate away at him, dimming his smiles and reducing any respect he had left for the gods until there was nothing left but a shadow of what had once been there.

The scar never faded. It became a reminder of what he believed to be the gods’ failure. His failure.

He was still her Luke. The Luke she had known and loved since she was thirteen. She was just terrified of what he might become.

[saruman-the-silly]

Oh hello... I wanted to make a request, I wanted to know how the Papas would react to seeing that y/n is a little chubby. Because I was looking in the mirror and I was so sad about what I saw, and now I'm lying in bed scrolling through Tumblr thinking about making this request... You don't have to do it if you don't want to, It's just that I love the way you write that I kept thinking about it.

I very much want to, thank you very much :D there is nothing, and I repeat, nothing wrong with being a little chubby, or being a lot more chubby! Whatever size you are, you are beautiful, remember that <3

This also gives me a reason to finally write something for Primo and Secondo so thank you hehe

soooooo I present to you, headcanons about the papas with a chubby reader! (gender neutral ofc hehe)

(I wrote this kind of quickly so if there are horrible grammatical errors, I will try and fix them as I find them lol)

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

Headcanons: Papas with a chubby reader

Primo:

He's very old, and a bit old-fashioned, so he just instantly thought you were an angel when he saw you. Back in his days, the curvier you were, the more attractive you were.

When he got to know you as a person, he grew to love you very quickly.

All of your curves and imperfections were a work of art for him.

Primo is also such a gentle person, and would notice the instant you were feeling down/insecure. He doesn't pressure you to talk about it though, but he still makes sure you know that he's there for you.

If you wanna talk tho? He would listen really well, and after you had poured your insecurities out on the table, he would assure you that your curves just made you more, well, you. And you were his amore, the most beautiful thing in the world.

Secondo:

He's a serious guy who does not like to talk about emotions and stuff. (I don't think he even knows how but lmao anyway)

Secondo's usually serious and no-bullshit charade was quickly torn away by you and your delightful presence. (He was freaking out like crazy when he first met you, Terzo would not let him forget how he stumbled over his words when he was first introduced to you)

Also, fuck, he couldn't keep his eyes from you. Every time you are in a same room with him, his gaze almost involuntarily shifts back to you.

He loves you. So much. So when you came to him, telling how you didn't think you looked good, he was a little confused. How could you see yourself in such a light, when you had made such an impact on him?

He reassures you that yes, he wants to be with you and nobody else.

He doesn't really know say anything else. But he doesn't need to, his actions prove the endless love he harbours for you.

Terzo:

Ah, Terzo, our hopeless romantic.

Terzo has seen many different types of bodies up close and personal during his life, but not one of them could match your beauty.

Needless to say, when he first met you he fell. Hard. Like, head over heels. Out the door went his playboy days, he only had eyes for you.

He literally worships the ground you walk on.

You had trouble believing him, when he confessed his undying love for you. (Don't blame him he just likes to be theatrical but he really did mean it)

You confessed to Terzo about your insecurities, and he proved himself to be a great listener. After talking, he reassured you that yes, he meant what he said, yes, he wants to be with you.

He would then bring you in front of a mirror, and gently kiss and caress all the parts of your body you are insecure about.

Copia:

He would understand your struggles very well. Having a history with insecurities himself, Copia isn't a stranger to body dysmorphia.

Copia loves you. So much. You helped him get through a lot of his insecurities, so, now was his turn.

He let you vent, while making you a cup of tea, and wrapped you in a tight hug afterwards. You cried in his arms and he just held you and comforted you.

Copia is very direct about his feelings toward you. He lists all the things he loves about you, and tells you how you size just makes you all the more perfect. (the man loves thick thighs)

He would do his best to make you see yourself in the same light he sees you. Copia gently traces over your stretchmarks with his finger, then kisses them and whispers to you how beautiful you are.

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

Thanks for the request annnd enjoy :D

Remember, you are beautiful no matter your size <3

[teatreeoilll]

|| Missions (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

There's not much to do after Geto leaves everyone heartbroken, (mentions of geto X reader).

MDNI just in case; language, mentions of sexual acts. So much angst.

"Coming back?" Gojo laughs at the sentiment, he runs his hand through his hair, but it just keeps falling back to cover his eyes. He knows he shouldn't say it, but he feels sorry for you, almost as sorry as he feels for himself. He looks at you, replacing the bandages on your arm, trying to keep your wound sanitary until someone finds Shoko.

"Yeah, you just saw him - you and Shoko. When's he coming back?" You wince at the pain radiating from your arm to the rest of your body.

"Suguru's not coming back."

"Then bring him back," you hiss at him, "what's the use of all that power if you can't even do that?"

Gojo knows you don't mean it. He knows you're hurt because you were away when Geto finally called because of your nasty habit of keeping your phone off when you're away on missions. But even though he knows you don't mean it, he's not in the right mood to exercise any self-control.

"Not my fault he didn't want to fuckin' see you, is it?"

"Get out," you try to keep your composure, but anger bursts through easily a moment later, "Get the fuck out!"

When Shoko comes, you're the only one left in the infirmary. The floor is full of bandages you tried to wrap around your wound but kept ripping up, too tense to put them on gently.

She picks them up silently while listening to the sobs you try to muffle by burying your face in the palms of your hands. Unlike Satoru, she doesn't say a word. Even her cursed technique couldn't mend a broken heart, and words seemed futile.

"He didn't call me," you turn your puffy eyes to her, to which she promptly stops her actions, "He didn't text, he didn't say anything. He had no problem fucking me in the showers because he was so sad, and you know baby, you're the only thing keeping me sane," you grumbled, imitating Suguru's deep voice with a raspy tone, "'keeping me sane' my ass."

And just as you wished she'd say something like 'Suguru said he tried to reach you', or 'He said he was sorry', she simply took your wounded hand in hers, "Don't move, okay?"

-

It's been three full months. Three months was longer than your entire relationship - if one could even call it that - with Geto Suguru. You kept your distance from everyone but Shoko, going in and out of Jujutsu High almost daily.

"Let me take this one," Gojo meets you when you come out of Yaga's office after a quick mission debrief. You walk past him, but he easily matches your pace, following you down the hallway. "Come on, you look like you need a day off."

"I'm fine," you walk faster now, there's a limit to how long he'd follow you, isn't there?

"Yeah, you look just as fine as me."

You stop in your tracks at his comment. Only when you finally turn to look at him, do you notice the remnants of dark circles under his eyes and the light creases on his uniform, giving him an uncharacteristically disheveled look.

"Satoru, you look horrible," you mutter, widening your eyes.

Gojo laughs, putting a long arm over your shoulder, "Me? Have you looked in the mirror recently? If you keep looking like that, someone might accidentally exorcise you."

Something about his demeanor lifts the horrible mood you've been in, you burst out laughing at his statement, "Exorcise me?" You breathe, still smiling, "You're so pale they might accidentally bury you."

He lets his arm hang loosely over your shoulder, "Go to sleep, I'll take this mission. Shoko said she's tired of seeing your face in the infirmary every other day anyway."

"She did not say that!"

"Well, she didn't say that, but I'm sure she wants to."

-

Gojo was quite sure that taking the load of missions you've put upon yourself would make you feel better, and that doing something for someone else would help him focus on anything else. Unfortunately, the consequences were quite the opposite. Your days moved slowly and uneventfully, trapping you in a constant state of reminiscing in the familiar environment you desperately wanted to get away from.

Gojo was gone for days at a time. After a while, you decided to camp out in his room, waiting for his eventual return. You already drifted to sleep on a chair in the corner when he opened the door.

"Got our rooms mixed up?" You jolted awake at the sudden voice, seeing Gojo's outline take his shoes off at the entrance to the dark room.

"No, I was waiting for you," you muttered, still wiping the sleep off of your eyes.

"Oh - as much as I'd love to, I'm not doing this to get any favors back."

You frown at his comment, "stop taking my missions, Satoru. I agreed to it just that once."

"You look like you're finally getting enough sleep." He settles himself on the bed, taking his jacket off.

"It's because there's nothing to do but sleep, I think I'm going to lose it." You get up from the chair, making your way to the door, "thank you, but please tell Yaga you'll stop covering for me."

"Ah, don't thank me," the small smile he has on his lips is illuminated by the dull light coming off the alarm clock on his nightstand.

"No, really. Thank you." you smile back at him.

"No, don't thank me, 'cause I'm not going to do it."

"You what?" You freeze, "It's not funny."

"That's good, because I'm not joking."

"I don't think you understand, I'm not asking you - I'm telling you." You make your way to the middle of the room, standing above his bed, looking down on his unbothered expression.

"I don't think you understand, I'm not giving you back your missions until you get your act together. D'you want me to call Ieri to count the amount of times you were close to losing a limb?"

"I don't think it's for you to decide just how together my act is."

"Then who's it for, huh? You clearly can't. Now, d'you mind? I'm tired." He gets up from the bed to fix up his sheets, paying no mind to your growing impatience.

"I'm not leaving until you give me back my missions," you cross your arms.

He shrugs you off, opening a drawer to pull out a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. You try to ignore the heat rushing to your face as he shamelessly starts to change in front of you.

"Quit it, Satoru." You're mesmerized by the way the muscles on his back move when he pulls the top of his uniform off, throwing it on the chair you were sleeping on moments ago, before putting on a gray t-shirt. When his hands reached to unzip his trousers, you grabbed his arm, trying to pull it away from performing the action, "Quit it!"

He shakes your hand off of his, finally turning to you, locking his eyes with yours, "I'll quit it when you stop moping around."

"I'm not moping!" You exclaim so suddenly that it even startles you a bit.

"Yeah, sure you're not." His eyes inspect your face.

"I'm not." You pull back your shoulders in a desperate attempt to seem more assertive.

"M-hmm," he utters, his face leaning closer to yours, a knot forms in your stomach when you see his eyes shift their gaze to your lips. You find yourself drawing closer to his lips, tipping your body just slightly forward, close enough to feel his breath on your skin.

"I'm not," you're so close your lips brush against his when you whisper, your hands run up his back, lifting his shirt, your cold fingers sending a chill up his spine. He presses you against his chest in one swift move, locking you within his arms before pressing his lips to yours.

"You better not," he breathes into your mouth.

-

"Does it mean I can have my missions back now?" you look at his crimson-colored face, still panting softly.

"After that? You can have mine too," He laughs.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ♕ This is gaudy as shit and I don't care. Idk. There may be inconsistencies with the story, so, sorry. I've been working on this all day. 8 pages on Google Docs so you're in for a read. Good stuff starts at page 3 (mind you, this is from Google Docs perspective.) I read, reread, rereread, rerereread, rererereread .... until I couldn't. This is a little headcanon-y and a little fic-y. It's just what I was feeling. I know you know what to do if there's anything horribly wrong. For real, though. This is so fucking long I never want to see my laptop again.

C/W ♕ Unprotected P->V, F->M & M->F Oral, M->eating his cum (sorta) from F, kinda rough sex but they like it. I'm so brain dead right now that I can't remember everything. Soft broken Hanma eventually. I like you, no shit? I like you too. Kiss kiss. Snooze snooze. Happy happy.

Funsies ♕ A link of the playlist I made while I was writing this in case anyone wants to check it out. I don't think the read will exhaust the playlist so pick any song you want and it should, theoretically work at any point?

WC ♕ 3,915 (ISH - I change things once I get it here on Tumblr, but it's around that.

♕ You'll never forget the first time you rode on the back of Hanma's bike with him.

♕ He wasn't really keen on the idea of taking you home. You weren't even his responsibility.

♕ But it was a favor for one of his captains.

♕ Hanma put his helmet on you, tightening the strap under your chin carefully so he wouldn't pinch your delicate skin.

♕ He was so pissed when he noticed how pretty your eyes were, staring so intently back into his. He had to shake himself out of the distraction.

♕ "You're not wearing a helmet, Shuji?" You asked.

♕ "This's the only one I have, obviously. And you're going to wear it, got it?" He was so adamant about that.

♕ He got you settled in the helmet and threw his leg over his bike. Looking at you impatiently, waiting for you to get on, he put his hand out and you took it.

♕ You hopped on behind him and wrapped your arms around his straight waistline. And you're not sure if your heart skipped a beat because you were so nervous about being on the back of a motorcycle with him for the first time or if it was how you felt with your cheek pressed to his back

♕ He also noticed how nice your arms felt wrapped around him. He turned his head before he took off and told you you'd better hold on tighter, he doesn't drive like a 30 year old.

♕ Hanma thought he turned his head enough from your line of vision before he smiled. But you saw it.

♕ So you did what he asked and squeezed him tighter, pressing your chest harder against his back.

♕ He started the engine and the vibrations sent shockwaves throughout your cunt body like you've never experienced.

♕ Both you and Hanma thought it wasn't possible for you to get any closer to him, but you both somehow managed to impress the other.

♕ He was at a stoplight about 3 blocks from your house and he reached back to give your thigh a little pat.

♕ "Hold on to me, hana. I'm gonna go like hell when I see that light turn green."

♕ His hand stayed on your thigh even after he took off. Stayed there for so long, actually, that you were getting concerned about the upcoming turn in the road. But he pulled his hand forward just in time to take it with ease.

♕ The wind against your face that carried his scent - which you could NOT place, (Sandlewood? Cedar? It was DELICIOUS to say the least) was starting to make you feel drunk.

♕ You could just barely hear the music playing through the small (but strangely loud) speakers --- Be Quiet and Drive (Far Away), Deftones. You had heard the song before and liked it but now it held a certain heaviness over you. Everything about this moment felt right. The night was warm. The stars were out.

♕ How the fuck had you not realized this before?

♕ Hanma is ... he's fucking sexy.

♕ He pulled up to your place and he stopped the bike, letting it idle while sitting in your driveway.

♕ "Ok, you have arrived at your destination. You're welcome, for the ride of your life." He seemed a little more lighthearted now than when he first was roped into taking you home.

♕ "Yeah. Yeah, thanks. Um, thanks. Do you - maybe ... want some ..." you just couldn't fucking talk. He looked so handsome in the soft yellow lights that lined the street.

♕ "You got some food? I could eat, yeah." He kicked the bike stand out and turned it off and reached up to remove his helmet from your head.

♕ If he missed the blush that washed over your face he'd have to be a blind man. But you noticed a faint smile on him, too. So you think he caught it.

♕ "What do you feel like? I just went shopping and I'm fully stocked." You stood with your back to him, he was in the living room looking around at the shit you had all over your walls. Weird art that made him feel things. Stuff he's never thought himself capable of feeling - not bad things, either. But new things.

♕ And you felt comfortable with all of this. Knowing he was in another room than you. Except, he wasn't in the living room anymore. He was right fucking behind you. You stopped to look up into the cupboard you stood in front of to see what was there, if it was easy and quick to fix up.

♕ He reached out and traced the curve of your waist and leaned in, putting his face to the back of your head. "You going to feed me, y/n?"

♕ Your first thought was who's going to perform CPR on your right now because you're about to die. His breath was so hot on the back of your neck you were able to document the time that your heart actually stopped beating for a second.

♕ Hanma put his hands on your shoulders and ran them down your arms. When he got to your wrists, he pulled them behind your back more roughly than you've ever been touched by any man before.

♕ And he's so much taller than you, so he has to bend over so he can talk right into your ear.

♕ "I'm sure it's ready for me to eat right now. Not much prep is going to be required. I guess, in a way, you could almost call it fast food?" He yanked you so you were standing up straight and your back was flush with his front.

♕ You didn't know what to do with your hands so you just left them where he placed them. He had his free hand back on your waist, squeezing and exploring.

♕ "I don't think I've ever wanted something so bad as I do right now, hana." He said, letting his fingers dip lower and lower. You threw your head back and it fit into the dip between his neck and shoulder.

♕ You couldn't help but think he was such a fucking gentleman, waiting for your permission before he took anything. You leaned back against his chest and turned your head to kiss him. "Then take ... take it. Take what you want, Shuji. Take it all."

♕ Hanma's hand went back up to your throat and squeezed just enough to make you gasp.

♕ He leaned around and pressed his mouth to the corners of your lips, teasing you into giving yourself fully over to the kiss and sliding his tongue down your jawline to your neck. Ending up at your ear once more.

♕ "Good girl, hana. You're so wet for me right now, I can fucking smell it. Tell me what you want me to take. Hm? You want me to take you? You're going to be so good for me. Or maybe not? Maybe you're just going to be a nasty ... little ... bitch. I think I'd like to see that. This sweet girl act you put on. I've seen you walking around like you're just the best thing around here. Well? You going to prove that to me, hana? Huh?" He said, his voice dropping an octave as he ran his hand down your stomach and dipped his fingers into your panties.

♕ He moaned into your ear, "Oh fuck, hana. You're dripping for me. I'm going to fucking ruin you."

♕ He turned you around more roughly than he had to and hoisted you onto the counter, yanking your pants down and kneeling down before you, inhaling your scent. Deeply.

♕ Hanma looked up at you with such fire in his eyes, you couldn't help but feel a little intimidated. He traced his finger over your pussy, feeling your wetness before leaning forward and dragging his tongue over the same invisible line his finger forged on your trembling skin.

♕ You arched your back and gasped as he brushed his lips against your thighs. You could feel how heavy his breathing had gotten. He pushed one finger passed your folds, then two, and you could feel yourself tightening around him.

♕ "Shu, f-fuck. Please, I need ... I need ..."

♕ He looked up at you with his eyebrows raised. "What do you need, hana. Use your words."

♕ You reached down and grabbed him by the ears, pulling him up to your face. "I ... fuck me, Shuji." You kissed him, tasting yourself on him.

♕ Hanma didn't waste a second. He pulled you off the counter and dragged you into your bedroom. You turned around and yanked at his belt buckle, pulling it from the loops all at once and threw it across the room, unzipping his pants and pulling them down.

♕ He leaned you over the bed, spreading your legs and reaching up to squeeze your ass. You looked back at him, wanting him to fill you up.

♕ Hanma rubbed his tip up and down your slit, teasing you. "Shuji just ... just fuck me."

♕ You were so whiny and needy. It was making him so hard. He wanted to fuck you right then and there. To give you what you were so desperately and metaphorically, on your knees for.

♕ But the sadist in him, found it hard to acknowledge your pleas so soon. He didn't want you to work for this, per se. But he wanted to make good and damn sure you wanted him as much as he wanted you. So what if he had to deny himself instant gratification. The look on your sweet, flushed face was already worth having to drag this out.

♕ "You've been so good for me, hana. I'm going to give you exactly what you need. But I don't want you to come too soon." He said, smirking as he pulled you back to your feet and turned you around, pressing his hands into your shoulders until you were on your knees.

♕ Hanma reached down and pulled his cock out of his boxers and he patted your chin a few times. Urging your mouth to open so he could slap it on your tongue before pushing his tip into your mouth. You let him guide you as you took him down your throat. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you struggled to take him all the way in.

♕ "Fuck, y/n. Look at you. Taking me like a good little slut. I knew you were going to act like a little bitch in heat. Choking down my cock like that." He praised you through gritted teeth. Despite sounding so volatile, it made you feel so good to be used by him this way.

♕ He pulled out of your mouth and pushed you back onto the bed, flipping you over onto your stomach. He pulled your hips up and guided his tip into you, slowly pushing himself in until he was all the way inside you.

♕ Hanma held himself there for a minute, feeling you tighten around him. He started moving again, in and out of you.

♕ You felt like you were on the edge of an orgasm with every thrust. The disgusting way he used you for his own pleasure and the way he spoke to you was driving you mad.

♕ "Shuji, fuck ... I'm gonna cum."

♕ He pulled out and turned you onto your back. He spread your legs apart and leaned over you, pushing himself back inside you and pressing his lips to yours.

♕ "Yeah? How close? How close are you?" He dragged his teeth over your ear and on down to your visibly beating pulse point and left a purple mark in his wake. You clenched up around his cock so hard when he did this that he had to stop moving and pull himself together. "Fuck! Hana! Keep that shit up and this is over. I'm fucking finished."

♕ He thrust into you harder, his balls slapping against your ass wasn't helping you hold off cumming all over him. You felt your orgasm building up inside you. You reached down to rub your clit, but he saw where your fingers were aiming and he brushed your hand aside and started rubbing soft circles on it for you. It made you moan - the most whorish, slutty sound you have ever let out.

♕ It was out of your control at this point. His dick pounding inside of you, hitting all the right spots at all the right times was making you more cock-drunk than you have ever felt. If you could even consider yourself aware of anything other than his golden eyes burning holes into yours and the rise and fall of his hips against your spread legs.

♕ Your cunt swallowed his cock so perfectly. The thought crossed your mind that you were made for each other. But that's ridiculous. Hanma hates you. Right? He didn't even want to take you home. So why, then, is he balls deep inside of you right now. Don't fucking ask, you thought to yourself. Doing any and every little thing you could to stave off your imminent crash.

♕ He could see your eyes start to roll back and he knew what was happening. He pressed his thumb harder against your clit and started circling it faster.

♕ "Cum for me, hana. Show me how much you wanted this, how much you wanted my cock inside of you." He sucked on your nipple as he fucked you. Balancing over you on his left hand, his right hand still trifling with your pulsing clit. You tried to buck up against him for any extra stimulation but he only pulled back. "Aht! I make you cum. You ... you let me. Understand, hana? I ... make ... you ... cum." He growled through his clenched jaw directly into your ear. Punctuating each word with driving his hips harder and harder against you.

♕ You couldn't hold it in anymore. You came so hard and you didn't even care that he was watching you so closely. You let your body relax and gave in to the moment. You'd pretty much checked out mentally, but whatever connection remained between your brain and your body was otherworldly. You felt his cock sliding in and out of your soaked cunt. It was so thick and long. Nothing like you imagined it would be by just looking at his tall, thin frame. (But aren't those guys always the wildcard?) It was all you could focus on.

♕ Hanma was ready to cum, too. He pulled out of you and turned you over onto your stomach again. He slapped his wet cock against your ass before pushing back into your pussy, making you moan into the sheets.

♕ You were still twitching against him. As close as he was to blowing his sticky load of cum inside of you, as hard as his cock was twitching, he was so transfixed by how you felt around him. So fucking hot. So fucking soft. So fucking beautiful. Like a goddamn flower. Your pussy made him think of the most beautiful flower and nothing would ever change his mind about that. (And he would never figure out why - but he wondered if it had to do with the weird art in your living room).

♕ "Fuck, hana. Fuck!Fuck!Fuck! You want me to cum inside this pussy? Want me to cum in my pussy, huh? Yeah? Fuck, cumming so fuck- hard, holy shit. Fuck!" Hanma came with such force, you could feel his cum pouring into you. And soon after, seeping out of you from around his cock still inside of your stretched hole. He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily. He didn't want to move, not yet.

♕ And he felt like it should bother him that he was still here with you. Still, physically, a part of you, as much as you were a part of him. But he couldn't think of a single reason why he should leave. Let alone why he'd want to leave.

♕ "Shu, you ... I ... well," you tried to speak but couldn't form a coherent thought just yet. "Um," it was useless. You couldn't think. So you just laid there underneath him. Feeling more and more empty with each passing second as the sadness of this being over filled you instead feeling full from Hanma. It was not a good placeholder for him. It was not feeling nearly as good as he did. And you felt like crying.

♕ Whether because it was just too much for you or it was just nothing to him. What if it were both? Shit. You're starting to cry.

♕ He felt you tremble underneath him and he rolled off of you, turning you over to face him.

♕ "Hey, what's wrong? Hana? Look at me, now. Did I hurt you? Did I do something?" He looked more concerned that irritated. And that's probably what surprised you the most. You tried to hide your face, but he grabbed your chin and pulled you back.

♕ "No, it's ... it's nothing. I just ... it was too much. You were too good." You said, laughing hard through the tears, wholly embarrassed by your generous assessment.

♕ "Oh, what now?" Hanma smiled and kissed you on the forehead. He reached down and grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing it. "You say I was too good? Were you even here? I mean ... I guess it's impossible for you to feel yourself. But, I guess ... I guess I'm only as good as who I'm with? And, hana," he cupped your face in his rough, slightly grease stained and scarred hand, "you were good, too."

♕ You laughed again, shaking your head. "Don't ... don't be nice to me. I can't handle it. And that's not even ... you don't have to say that to me. I know you don't like me. You can't fucking stand me. I knew all of this when I asked your captain to make you give me a ride. How embarrassing is that. I fucking am so pathetic sometimes." You rubbed your eyes with the heel of your palm. "God. You can go. You don't have to stay. It's alright. I'm ... I'll be ... fine. I always am."

♕ Hanma sat up on his elbow, looking down at you with his brow furrowed. "Hana. I can't believe you're this stupid." He rubbed the back of his neck and looked out into the hallway.

♕ "Shuji! Who the fuck is Hana? And why do you keep calling me that? My name is-" great, now you look sad and insane.

♕ "Chill, crazy. Hana means blossom. And I think, ffffuck. Ithinkyou'reprettylikeaflowerplusyourpussyispretty." His words ran together but you heard every single separate syllable. You're pretty sure you fell in love with him a little bit, too. The fucker.

♕ He leaned over you again, pressing his lips to yours. You moaned against his mouth and reached to grab his cock, but he stopped you. "No. I wanna make you feel good. It's your turn." He kissed your neck and made his way down to your pussy, licking up his own cum that had dripped out of you. You bucked your hips up into his face, reaching down to grab a fistful of his hair.

♕ He looked up at you with wide eyes, smirking. "Hold on, hana. I got you." He sucked your clit between his lips, pressing his tongue against it and making you cry out in pleasure. He pushed two fingers into your pussy and started pumping them in and out of you, hitting your g-spot while he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue.

♕ "Fuck, Shu! Fuck me!" You screamed.

♕ He looked up at you with his eyelids still heavy. "That's what I'm trying to do, baby." He said, chuckling. "Just this time, it's with my mouth. Ok? So sit back and enjoy the ride." He leaned back down and continued sucking and licking and pumping you until you couldn't hold on anymore. You came for him, all over his face. And he didn't seem to mind one bit.

♕ He crawled up to you and laid beside you again. You looked over at him and smiled. "You're such an asshole. But I kind of like you."

♕ He leaned over and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on him. Again. "No shit? I've liked you for a while. But I ... hell, I don't know. I guess I thought you were too good for me or something." He put his head against your chest, subconsciously counting the heartbeats coming from your body. "That's usually what people tell me. The guys and stuff. They always give me shit about anyone I like. Except ... except for you. They respect you."

♕ You nodded slowly, spacing out on the chunk of blond hair above his forehead. "Yeah, it helps having a cousin who's a captain. But Shuji, I do. I really do like you. I just wanted you to know that."

♕ Hanma looked up at you with a softness in his eyes you had never seen before. "I know, hana. I know." He kissed you again, pulling the sheet over both of you. He didn't want you to see him get worked up. Not over you. Not emotionally. Not just yet. But he was pretty sure he was starting to fall in love with you. And that was just something he wasn't prepared for. Though he'd have to face up to it. Sooner, rather than later, he thought.

♕ He turned over onto his back and let you snuggle up next to him, throwing your arm over his chest. He closed his eyes, thinking about how much he'd like to do this again. Just like this. Just you.

♕ You reached over and turned off the lamp, laying your head against his chest and simply being in the darkened room with him. It was so easy, you thought. And you hoped it would always be that way, though you knew better than to believe that. Because Hanma was a very complicated man on the outside and inside. And you wanted to be the one who could be there to understand him. The one who could get to know him. The one who could make him laugh and cry and feel any and everything he ever wanted to feel. You wanted to be the one who'd be there to listen to anything he had to say. Softly spoken or screamed out.

♕ And that's all you wanted. To be there for him. And with him. And with him.

♕ "Good night, little hana." He said, pulling you tighter against him.

♕ "Good night, beautiful Shuji." You smiled in the darkness and drifted off to sleep.

♕ And you didn't care how much you'd regret saying it or how much you'd try to deny it. It was true. You were in love with him. And you knew it would be some time before he could admit he felt the same way. But you would give him whatever amount of time he needed.

♕ He hoped he would be worth it. Hanma wasn't necessarily a good man. He has never been called a good man. Never has he ever really felt like one.

♕ But he heard you talking to him in the morning before you got out of bed to fix the coffee. Telling him how you'd be there for him as best you could. No matter what.

♕ He thought to himself that he hoped he'd never disappoint you. No matter what.

Taglist ::: @katkitkats @darkstarlight82 @arlerts-angel @viburnt @kazutora-kurokawa

[gaspshichat]

pearl quotes !!

i write down a lot of pearl quotes and sometimes share them in her discord server. i've decided to put every single one i've gathered into one tumblr post. i will reblog the most recent addition every saturday with any new quotes that i have acquired. you can also send me quotes in my ask box or my dms on twitter [username is gaspshichat, like usual]. no guarantees that they'll be added though!

a lot of these quotes are sus and very out of context. that is part of the point! if pearl wants me to delete this, i absolutely will

[before it gets asked, karn is her bestie boyfriend]

~|•🌙•|~

pearl: before we do that let me restock my balls

~

pearl: ooh there's things happening on the ser- A BEACON ????

~

pearl: don't thank me because i didn't approve of it

~

pearl: i hope you guys understood what i said because i didn't

~

pearl: "you killed a frog?" yup! it was for science......let it be known that is a terrible excuse in real life

~

pearl: "do you take iron tablets?" i have them!

~

pearl to keralis: well you're a letdown but i don't talk about that

~

pearl: fix ai, make them breedable

~

pearl: i got the double p! please don't acronym that

~

pearl: "do you use slabs in terraforming?" *zooms in on a slab she used for terraforming* no

~

pearl: "don't sell yourself short" it's okay i'm tall

~

pearl: they don't bite! much..

~

pearl: doc owes me child support!

*long, stunned silence*

cleo: ....okay….

~

cleo: so keralis did the kidnapping, and you did kidnapping by proxy

pearl: ...no

~

pearl: it was a heart of mutton. it was creepy

cleo: it was a meat heart :D

~

cleo: i want to mail horrible things, like animals, to iskall

pearl: oh! that's horrid

~

pearl: "you charge your other mats rent?" yes

~

pearl: i don't know if this is lag or if my balls are just popping in really slowly

~

pearl: these balls ain't going away

~

pearl: let me move my balls aside for you

~

pearl: hello ♪

karn: is it me you're looking for ♪

pearl: no ♪

karn: oh :(

~

pearl: i don't need a big, strong man to kill me

~

pearl: turn down the thing you need to turn down...you know what it is

~

karn: i fractured the world from what i can tell

pearl: ..bruh

~

pearl: what does the button do?

karn: THE BUTTON SHUTS THE DOORS ON US AND SPAWNS A BUNCH OF MOBS

pearl: i pushed the button hehe

~

pearl: cleo made the child

false: ...the child?

pearl: yeah :D it's a bebe

~

pearl: "why are there beach umbrellas at the post office?" *long pause* maybe it's because of all the water?

~

pearl: you caught me mid construction

gem: i know >:3

~

pearl: he's letting his babies loose

~

gem: look at you up there. you're adorable *punches her*

pearl: aH-

~

pearl: i am greatly navigationally challenged right now

~

pearl: i got too comfortable with hermitcraft actually working

~

pearl: ah! moist!

~

pearl: anyway that's completely distracted me away from my really passionate rockies

~

pearl: we have pickles to do !!

~

karn: let's not sit on the balls

pearl: 🤨

karn: *holds up cat toys*

pearl: oh- *starts laughing and hides her very red face*

~

pearl: just shove it in

~

pearl: how do you know what brimstone tastes like

karn: i've lived quite the life

~

pearl: give it a suck

~

pearl: our feet are not equal

karn: why are you bringing our feet into this ??

~

pearl: i could give you the australian bestie word-

karn, oblivious: alright

pearl: -but it's not pg

karn, realizing: ahhh

~

karn: it's a mental thing, you see

pearl: oh

karn: yes, i'm mentally stuck here

pearl: i see

karn: yes, i'm in a position where i don't want to leave-

pearl: that's very intense for a friend

~

karn: it's just as sweet as you

pearl: don't butter me up

karn: too late!

~

pearl: i'm flee with extra flee

~

karn: you okay, my dear?

pearl: *sobbing*

~

pearl: did you pee in the ocean?

karn, instantly: yes

~

pearl: stop wasting your bullets!

karn: sorry ☹️

~

pearl: did you think his ass was his face ????

~

pearl: in what realm is a butthole a face ????

karn: *trying to explain*

pearl: babe :I

~

pearl: take that you stupid ass robot

~

karn: on the count of three. one-

pearl: *starts blasting*

~

pearl: stupid ass spider

~

pearl: a butt is clearly defined by two cheeks, a hole, and a tail!

~

pearl: [karn] is very special. in multiple ways

[ladyxskywalker]

lost without you, i & ii

Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader/OFC

a momentary separation between you & anakin happens while you are not feeling well. however, despite the circumstances, your hearts have only grown fonder of one another each time you speak on the phone. 💙

I wrote this a while ago & was kindly asked to repost it here on tumblr. also available to read on ao3. based on a real life situation. 🌼

i.

It's been weeks since you've been together. Something awful and truly beyond your control, forcing your current separation. A horrible flu making the rounds in your home world, where you - after attending a wedding, unfortunately, had come down with it as well.

"I confess, my love, I haven't been doing well without you." Anakin confides quietly in you, taking advantage of whispering in hushed tones over the phone.

"Anakin..."

"I know you're still recovering, but I can't help it, I'm selfish for you. I want you here...right now."

A softened sigh of your breath leaves your chest with a slight struggle, a cough escaping there, and a tear drop too.

"I will be back soon, I promise. Being without my other half has truly been unbearable."

"I just...I just want to hold you."

"You will again, soon enough. I promise."

But what you really meant to say, through the emotional heartbreak you've been facing is - yes, I know things have been difficult, I just hadn't realized that you'd been going through this just as much as I was.

"Will I, though?"

It hurts the most when his own mind leads him away from reality and the truth. Right away thinking or feeling like he'll never see you again. But the thoughts are only just intrusive ones, they have no real bearing on what lies in your heart.

"Yes."

Your head starts to feel too heavy, and your pillow is much too nice for you to even attempt getting up right now.

Sleep was inevitable. You hadn't been able to rest in days. Too nervous with worry to let your eyes close.

Too sad and unable to sleep without him all alone.

"This war...sometimes feels as though I am completely by myself, even though I know I'm not. I sense everything so strongly, it's harder than I thought."

"You need human contact. I understand that more than you know."

"Yes. I want it from you."

All while laying down, your cheeks have felt your eyes as they've already gone ahead into weeping. Another sort of instinct, telling you to finally let it all out.

"Tell me...what you miss...what you hope for most when eventually I do return."

Anakin pauses on his side of things, taking a breath before surrendering to his own heart.

"I just...I just want to be close to you."

"I want that too."

"I want to hug you for as long as I'm able to. Hold you in my arms while we sleep together in our room. Watch you smile at me from the door when you wake up. But..."

"But what, handsome?"

"The days...they're too long, too far."

After holding things in for so long, he begins to get a little bit choked up.

"I miss you, Anakin."

"I miss you too..."

So for now, all the two of you can do for one another is wait. A few more days for him to be home, and another stretch of time for you to start feeling better once more.

And then, there's a little static.

Background noise.

Another voice coming through over the phone.

"General Skywalker, there are enemy hostiles about. We should flank them on foot. Surround them."

"Good call, Commander. Lead the way, I won't be long."

You can almost picture his face in your mind then. A distance resonating in his eyes, veering off somewhere towards the setting suns, before looking back down.

Confident.

Brooding.

And, maybe even a little bit tired from it all.

"Go."

"I'll call you again tomorrow. And..."

"Hm?"

"I just want you to know, I'm not going anywhere."

Right then and there, even from across the airwaves, you sensed his light and the force of his love deep within your bones.

... 🌼

ii.

after being apart from one another for quite some time, anakin gives you a warm welcome home ❤️

this part is rated M or E for smut feel free to skip if this is not for you additional content tags: soft smut, couch time, sleepy morning intimacy, implied things happening, nothing crazy

It started with a long hug and a gentle hello. A smile for you, already gleaming with excitement as he greeted you by the door.

You were going to dinner that night. A fancy one he'd been planning for weeks for your birthday. Thoughtful gifts, wrapped with care, just needing to be opened. A release of kind breath, leaving the anxious state of your lungs then, because now - finally, all is well.

And you were home .

"Are you feeling better, sweetheart?"

"Mhmm."

He pulls you closer. Your hands, finding their way up to the back of his neck to feel his still wet hair from the shower.

Anakin hums, tracing the tip of his nose along your neck - leaning into it, enjoying the touch of your skin. The smell of your perfume that he loves so much.

"Do I look stupid?" He chuckles, all while holding you tighter to him.

"No. You're perfect."

"Good. Now go, open your gifts. You've waited long enough."

But for just a minute, you'd rather just take him all in there instead. To say how much you truly missed him while you were apart. That the greatest feeling in the world right now is knowing that Anakin is the best gift of all.

The night went by so fast. Laughing with each other first, then with friends...

Sneaking off somewhere for a while in a dark corner of the bar...

The softened shadows, encasing you both in their ease of surrounding comfort. And his hands, showing you the way toward his hips in front of everyone else, without a care in the world.

Your arms wrap around him easily.

His incredible blue eyes, focus on your lips.

Then your palms cup his face, completely letting go - falling on air immediately when he begins to kiss you hard.

"Want to get out of here?"

"Mm. Yes ."

"We don't need to be here anymore."

And so, you go.

"Come here."

He reaches for you to straddle him on the couch, insistent on his keys landing somewhere on the hard surface of his table below. Making a slightly abrupt noise that he knows someone else might have complained about...

But, he doesn't care where anything is supposed to go right now, and neither do you.

Not with the way you've been eyeing him sweetly from above...

Your shoes ending up someplace with his boots as they've already fallen over...

His belt buckle, already lost underneath his messy chair on the floor.

"I missed you. I thought...I thought you were never coming back. That, maybe you were gone for good."

Anakin caresses your face, brushing your cheek with care at the tips of all his fingers.

"You're my other half, I'd never leave you. Never..."

Anakin sighs, almost afraid to speak. Always brooding, so deep in thought.

"All those weeks...I couldn't bear it. I wasn't myself."

You kiss him slowly, slotting your lips together, chests pressing, getting even closer.

"I know."

Leaning down, you trace every line of his neck with kisses. Gripping the hems of his clothes. Shifting your hips against his, silently begging for him to help take them off.

But it's you that he wants first.

Completely vulnerable and bare on top of him.

Another hand, slipping between your thighs - teasing you with his strong and capable curling. Eliciting a budding sensation there that makes you moan.

The tip of his tongue, encircling the pebbled skin of your breasts, his eyes soothed to a close as he takes each one into his mouth.

"Yes... oh , please... please ."

Then, he grins, feeling that stray shiver he seems to know so well. Shifting you just the slightest for a second to take his pants off. Guiding your hand lower against his hardest part just to arrogantly show what you do to him.

"I want you. Right here ."

And as you lower yourself down upon him, it feels as though everything is made right again.

Affectionate sighs of impassioned relief, escaping there from you both...

Foreheads dipping into an almost blind surrender to the simplest form of selfish touch...

It took some time for you to drift off. The adrenaline and excitement of seeing and truly being with him again, almost feeling like too much.

He hums when he sleeps sometimes, sensing when occasionally your eyes tend to open - watching him. Closing them softly again when you know you've been caught.

You missed his bed. The smooth sheets. His warm pillows.

The broad span of his chest, and the cool feel of his arms.

Snuggling closely to him, you check the time. Looking across the room at towards the window, judging that by now it had already been morning. Your calming hint being the comforting light of the sun.

"Mm. I haven't slept at all..."

You whisper to yourself. Unable to fathom the last time you did something like this. Or that all of it had truly been real as well.

"There you are..."

Anakin slowly opens his eyes, allowing them to adjust.

"Morning, handsome."

Looking over, you see that all this time, the sheets have grown tighter. Sliding your hand beneath the warmth of your blankets to palm what lies beneath them. Though, before you know it, both he and you are no longer guarded by your covers.

"Where do you want me?"

You whisper, pressing each word against his waiting mouth.

His kiss, feeling like the only sort of sensual welcome you ever want to know.

Then, wordlessly, he takes you by the wrist, carefully and protectively, leading you back up and over where you belong.

Reaching around the hardened length of him, the pad of your thumb grazes over the smooth tip, before guiding it towards that sensitive spot. Letting go.

He kneads at your flesh, grasping at the skin of your thighs, rolling you forward, kissing you hard. His fingers, holding tightly to the back of your head. Freeing you only when you stretch, sitting back up. Your entire being, on passionate display for him there.

"I'm a lucky man..."

He smiles, all while mumbling a string of endless thoughts. Secrets from his mind that he's been keeping. Allusions to everything he loves about you, never spoken, always bottled up. Until this overwhelming moment.

Until, right now.

"You're a goddess... so beautiful..."

You can't help it when a single tear begins to fall, when you see his pure surrender to joy slipping with dampened eyelids of his own.

A rough hand then changing the scene...

Emotions running wild when a mere gentle moment turns into something else.

Your lips, pressed into momentary capture by the welcome feeling of his palm.

All you can do is watch him, as he's watching the joining spaces between you. The quickened pace that comes from the rolling of your hips. Your fingertips, toying with your own chest there...

And then he releases you. A moan escaping, then his shuddered breaths...

Another kiss...

Then one final glide.

Your blinding wave and loving fall, following his right after...

He's so warm, so safe like this. That when he eases you off of him, carefully making space for you to sleep next to him some more, you almost can't believe that you are really here with him now.

That you've almost spent four seasons of time with this amazing man.

That either one of you no longer had to fear the thought of being alone.

No universe exists where you would ever dream of being with someone else.

And you loved him.

... ❤️

thanks so much for reading 💌 xo A

[lalal-99]

of timeless love {h.j.} | track 1

©March 2023, February 2024 by lalal-99

Han Jisung x afab!reader | trope: slice of life, coming of age | word count: 2.6k

Synopsis: You and your annoyingly adorable boyfriend Jisung move off to university, to make new friends, find a calling and learn how to live on your own for the very first time in your lives.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: I first thought of this story about a year and a half ago. I didn't feel ready at the time, but as I got better over the years, I picked this story up again. Updates might be slow, so bear with me please

Tumblr works on a reblog system. Please consider reblogging this post so that it can reach more people. Thank you :)

Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You!

You, 6 years ago, wouldn’t have bought this romantic af, straight out of a fairy-tale storyline.

You going to University? With the love of your life? Like the picture-perfect couple, smiles glued to your face? Nuh-uh. Not you. Not in this lifetime and most likely not in the next dozen—if you ever were so unlucky.

Family, love, college. All of it was bullshit. Temporary.

Nothing good ever lasted. If anything, a dark twist was already lurking around the next corner at any given moment. You couldn’t imagine a dimension in which you were ever happy. Let alone content.

Your 14-year-old emo self would never grow out of the jet-black hair. Or the countless piercings decorating your face. Or those cole-coloured ripped skinny jeans you wore like a second skin. So much you knew. Past-you only ever wanted to gloom through life in a hazy blur. Depressed about My Chemical Romance breaking up and all the other hardships life had already put you through.

That girl would have despised who you had become. Hair grown back to its natural colour. Wearing shirts without some underground metal band’s logo printed on the front. That girl would have likely made fun of you for even thinking about grades. And your future? If you ever had one, your 14-year-old self knew it would include nothing but darkness and despair.

Every teenager around you went through that phase, though you were sure it was more than that. A phase. A short and survivable part of your story. You fully and whole-heartedly believed nothing would ever change about your attitude towards life. It couldn’t, not after everything that had happened.

Overcoming that horrible chapter of your life seemed unimaginable. That you even got the chance to reach out and grab your future by its horns only had one reason. One person who was to become the most meaningful part of your life. Of the same future, he was the reason you even considered having.

Han Jisung.

A boy of innocence and noisy introversion. A boy who, despite having lived through similar trauma as yourself, had a will for life toxic enough to capture you. A boy who you became sure was the closest thing to a soulmate you would ever find.

No one could have prepared you for how hard you’d fall for Jisung. You loved him at his best, worst, and everything between. And you had fallen in love with him despite his lousy sense of humour and silly persona. Or maybe, you had fallen for him because of it. Because he had a similar story to yours but an opposite look at it.

Your 14-year-old, always-depressed, doom-certain-self could have never imagined being with someone like him. Let alone being head-over.heels. All while doing what? Watching him do something so mediocre and none-life changing as buying toothbrushes?

“I don’t know. Which ones do you think?”

Jisung presented you two indistinguishable packs of toothbrushes, waking you from your daydream. Thus, the blurriness faded and your eyes focused on the tiny words on each cover.

“These,” you decided on the left option. “Those bristles are too hard for your gums.”

“Oh, we definitely can’t have that.” With a dramatically disgusted expression, he returned the wrong set to its place on the shelf. “I want to keep at least some of my teeth.”

“Thankfully,” you agreed with a snicker. His words cracked you up more than they should have.

No doubt, your 14-year-old self would have hated yourself six years later.

“Okay. What else is on that magic list of yours?”

“Microwave popcorn and some instant ramen. And we should get some notebooks and highlighters for tomorrow. That’s it.” You listed the remaining articles off the slip of paper while crossing out the products you had retrieved from the hygiene section. “Should we split up?”

“Nah. That’s how they die in horror movies. And I’m not going out in the food court of a 7/11.”

“Fair. How about the Back-to-School aisle then?”

Jisung pondered his reply as he wandered past toothpaste and mouthwash. “Too many pens for people to draw penises on my face. The cleaning section, however? That’s a whole other conversation.”

“How come?”

“Well, there’s bleach and mops already. Also, buckets. So they can simply wheel my corpse away.”

As you walked by the pasta and other canned foods, you picked up a tray of ramen each. For convenience, if anything. Had it not been for the thinness of your wallet, you would have gone for fresher produce. So much for independent living.

With an intensive focus on your absurd conversation—Jisung listing places he would most likely die in if he were a character in a horror movie—you didn’t notice a tray of stacked goods blocking the path. It wasn’t until you bumped your shin on the square-edged tower that you finally took notice.

As a wave of pain swallowed your leg, you left out a shriek. “Gosh freakin’ dang it!”

“You good, baby?” His concern was genuine, though he couldn’t help smiling at your desperate attempt not to swear. “Let me see.”

Jisung kneeled in front of you, noticing a reddening wound once he had dragged the jean fabric up your leg.

“Just a bruise.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one feeling like your skin is being dragged off your flesh.”

“No. But I can make it better.”

He rose to his feet, arms hugging your frame as he picked you up without any effort. You giggled as he heaved you into the cart, careful not to squish the food.

“What are you doing?”

“No girlfriend of mine should have to walk when she’s in pain,” Jisung explained, helping you get settled. Pushing the crushable goods out of the way, you sat on the cans. Not the most comfortable seating, but it worked, nevertheless.

“Damn, those other girls are lu-cky.”

Jisung was pleased at how casually you had joined in on his joke. A smile formed on his lips as he pushed you along the shelves of seasonal produce.

You soon reached the Back-to-School aisle. There you took your sweet time deciding on notebook formats and highlighter colours. It kept surprising you how much fun it was to go grocery shopping when done with the right people. Everything was about 50 percent less boring because of Jisung. Jisung and his ability to find something ridiculous in anything and everything.

After you had made some other critical decisions—like which folders would make organising the year easiest, the ones with dogs or flowers in front—you finished up your school-supply-run.

When you reached the cash register, you noticed the strange looks the other customers gave you. Two young adults strolling through a supermarket, pushing each other in grocery carts? Definitely side-eye-worthy.

Maybe you would have cared more had you not been so enticed by Jisung’s mindless humming of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.

“What?” Jisung questioned your glances as he started unloading the items from the cart.

“Nothing.” You joined him, unloading all the trays of food you had picked minutes earlier. “This feels weird. Going grocery shopping together. Feels grown-up somehow.”

“We go grocery shopping once a week,” he declared with a thoughtful pout.

“But that’s different.”

After you had emptied out your purchase, he wheeled you further down the band. The woman behind the cash register seemed equally interested in you as all the customers. Soon enough, she continued doing her job.

“You mean because we didn’t have to pay for it ourselves?” He held his hand to his heart as if heartbroken. “I miss your dad, too. Always so kind, paying for all our stuff.”

You chuckled at his playful sincerity.

“No, idiot.” As Jisung reloaded the cart, you payed for this week’s necessities. “Because we’re grocery shopping on our own, living off at uni. We have officially moved out of our home, living in the big city. It’s— new. That’s it.”

As soon as you had reached the exit, you picked reached for the strawberries, unable to abstain any longer. Strolling towards his car, you handed one over to your boyfriend while sucking on your own. Like the gentleman he was, Jisung helped you jump from the car and you packed everything into the trunk.

Once you had placed the cart back by the others, you finally headed home. Or rather, the dorm room you would be living in for the next four years.

You weren’t at that point of calling it your home yet.

A comfortable silence surrounded you throughout your drive. It remained while you stacked away your half of the food back at your place and lasted until you finished. This sort of silence wasn’t uncommon these many years into your relationship—you hardly noticed it anymore.

“Man, all this talk about horror movies makes me want to watch one.” That you hadn’t mentioned this topic for over 30 minutes seemed irrelevant.

“But you’re horrible with horror movies,” you pointed out.

“Not when you’re there to protect me.”

An hour later you were sprawled out on your bed, the last sweet strawberry long gone.

With your legs entangled, Jisung’s face rested on your chest as you massaged his scalp. After minutes of fruitless discussion, Spiderman was now webbing his way through your laptop screen. In the end, it really didn’t matter what movie was playing. It never did as long as you were with each other.

Not even 20 minutes into the movie, Jisung had fallen asleep on top of you. His faint snoring was now mere background noise as you followed the plot, ehich wasn’t as simple as it sounded. Your energy was more than drained from running around all day.

Only three days ago, you had still been back home. Packing for your upcoming move to a new city, two hours from every place you had grown up in. The one thing keeping you calm throughout the stress was your sweetheart-boyfriend. To no one’s surprise. He was the only person able to keep you sane when all you wanted was to scream and cry. Had you not had him by your side, you would have drowned in all the noise your brain usually produced.

His ability to calm your nerves when you needed him to—know when to make you laugh or when to distract you from your everyday stresses—surprised you to this day. You couldn’t begin to explain how you had been lucky enough to find someone like him. Someone you loved as much as you had seen your parents do when you were younger. Let alone how he loved you the same way, almost self-destructively so.

Your 14-year-old self would have called bs. But that girl was someone else—you, but in another lifetime. You but pre-Jisung.

When the door to your room rushed open, it pulled you from your quiet slumber. You had turned off the lights earlier to set the mood but still knew the intruder was your roommate. Besides you two, only Jisung knew the code to your dorm—a decision you had previously discussed with your new roomie, of course. Seeing as he was knocked out on top of you, you could cross him off your list of possible visitors at 8 pm on a Monday.

Adapting her eyes to the darkness, she checked her surroundings before tiptoeing into the room. The light remained off as she expected you to be asleep.

“Hey,” you greeted the dark-haired beauty, making her jump in surprise at the sudden noise.

“Fu—God! You scared me.” With one hand over her heart, your roomie calmed herself from your unexpected jump-scare. Once her heart rate had settled, she slipped out of her heels and left them by the end of her bed. “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, letting your finger run along his jaw to check. He didn’t move, so you knew he was most likely out for the night. “Long night?”

She gagged with an eye roll, pulling her jeans off her legs and exchanging them for grey sweatpants. “Don’t get me started. I haven’t even started writing my thesis, and it’s already kicking my ass.”

You watched her as she also changed out of her dress shirt and into an off-the-shoulder crop top. She slipped into a pair of sneakers while making her way to her dresser where she sprayed herself in a cloud of perfume.

“You’re leaving again?”

“Yup. I spent so much time at the library today, I apparently neglected,” she air-quoted with an eye roll, “my girlfriend. At least that’s what she said.”

“The things we do to keep our loved ones happy.”

“Exactly.” Unleashing her long curls from a tight ponytail, she ran her fingers through them for a few seconds. Her beach-waves veiled her face, so she pushed them behind her ears to instead frame her near-perfect features. “Anyway, I’m staying at hers tonight, so don’t wait up for me.”

“Okay,” you agreed with a yawn, your roommate replying with a deep chuckle.

The past few days, you had mainly spent in your new room, settling in and getting ready for the start of the semester. You liked planning ahead, knowing your life was organised to a T, so you could focus on the important stuff. Your studies, and your boyfriend.

Your roommate seemed to have most of the same priorities. She had gone out every night since you moved in, be it to study at the library or spend some time with her better half. However she managed to squeeze in all the partying? You had no clue. You could only hope some of her togetherness rubbed off on you. But then again, never judge a book.

“I’m going to take you out one of these days. You are not going to be sitting inside all year. Not on my watch.”

Spending the first two days inside, you must have looked like the biggest couch potato ever.

“Sounds good.”

As she waltzed towards the door, you grabbed her attention one last time. The hallway lights blinded you with their brightness, framing her curves in a halo.

“Oh, and Hwasa?” She turned to face you, looking like she had jumped straight off a Vogue cover. How she did that without trying was a mystery to you. “Can you not tell Wheein he’s sleeping over? I wouldn’t want my first warning on the third day already.”

“Babe, as long as you’re my roommate, my dorm-supervisor-girlfriend won’t dare write you up. Just don’t set anything on fire, and you’re solid.”

With that, she waved goodbye, leaving you and your boyfriend alone. Well, apart from the ever-so-handsome Tom Holland, who somehow made full-body suits look like a reasonable choice of clothing.

Not soon after, your eyes fell close, sending you off into a deep rest.

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[milkbreadandtadpoles]

soup and stars

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snip: you keep sukuna's favorite after workout drink in your fridge. and no, you don't frequent that store. sukuna looks at you like you hung the moon and painted the sky yourself when you're either on the brink of death or not paying attention (it's only with his eyes, though. he's a certified rbf). the two of you have been hooking up for over a year with little conversation outside of snarky comments and emojis he doesn't get.

and he sometimes takes care of you when you're sick for five hours only.

warnings: suggestive language, sukuna being a parallel of this guy i used to hookup with who was srsly emotionally constipated and really milked my daddy issues, reader being dumb (lol me), probably a lot of run on sentences and weird descriptions but i am not srry ab it, no Y/N here, a lot of parentheses for some reason

authors note: omg hey. i have this a03 and i thought i'd put a tumblr to pair it together cuz i had an old tumblr but i was kinda done w her (may she rest in peace!) anywayyy my name is lillie, hi again. hope u enjoy this!! luv me some sukuna who reminds me of all my bad flings.

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Since when did you get sick like this?

This time, not that time you lied to your boss, you have an actual stomach bug. Stomach thing. Food poisoning from bad sushi. You don't know.

What you do know, however, is that everything smells bad, you can’t stomach anything other than a handful of saltine crackers. You couldn’t even finish your coffee yesterday morning; you’re just coming down from a fever. Everything is hot and cold, nothing feels right on your skin. Noises are too loud, but the silence is making your ears bleed. 

Curled up into the sheets, you shiver. It rocks over you, feeling cold despite your body burning off whatever infection is brewing in your gut. Your skin feels crusty yet damp, scalp itchy and pulled back into two haphazard buns. Stray strands lay over your forehead that twinkles with cold sweat.

Vampire Diaries plays in the background, volume loud enough so you can hear where you’re at within the series but quiet enough to give you grace if you wish to take another four hour nap. You don’t even want to get on your phone, ignoring the occasional, silent buzzes and flashing light that draw your eyes away from the fuzz of your blanket.

Time passes in a druken haze, not knowing whether you slept or not, not feeling entirely there at all. You fail to count the amount of times you got up to throw up or sit on the toilet, thankful the walls are snug enough to rest your head on the wall of it to contemplate if it’s worth passing out before you gather your wits and crawl back into bed.

There’s a rustle in your sheets, a distant sound of intro music for the vampire show.

“You still watchin’ this shit?” A gruff voice sounds from above you.

Your brows furrow in your sleepy haze- you don’t have energy to fight an intruder, pulling the sheets over your head that throbs from lack of everything. Horribly big hands paw at the clothed dip in your waist. And you let out a mixture of a whine and huff at the realization that your little fling (if you could even call it that) picked a horrible day to play.

“Sukuna,” You murmur, drawing the blankets higher above the crown of your head before he has a chance to yank it down and see your very unprepared self, “Not a good time.”

Sukuna, an occasional fuck and lackluster addition to your friend group, scoffs a laugh, muttering something about you really being a freak, something about thanking your dad for giving you all these issues that only he can handle as he gropes the flesh of your ass.

And it would feel so lovely if you weren’t on the brink of death.

“Eggroll. All the eggrolls.”

He groans, lifting his hand away from you in agreement to the safe word (because that one time when the two of you didn't have one and you reacted that way actually scared the shit out of him). 

“I’m sick.” You add quietly, urging your body to morph into a tighter ball. If Sukuna were his younger brother, or his younger brother’s friend, you’d ask either of them to cover you with another blanket. Or to refill your water bottle. Maybe even run to the store down the road and grab you some soup. But this is Sukuna, and-

There’s a harsh tug at the blanket covering your head, and you try to weakly grip the fabric in place.

“That’s why you didn’t answer my text? ‘Cause you’re all disgusting and shit?” He questions, giving one more quick tug to reveal your messy hair, the tint to the apples of your cheeks. The way his gaze feels makes the very top of your gut churn, and you scrunch your face as you decide whether or not you need to puke again.

“Mhm.” You nod, begging for the fabric back with a soft tug. Sukuna relents, snorting as you cover your head back up.

His body weight makes your bed frame squeak as he repositions himself to slouch next to you, and you peer at him through the crack of the blanket. He pulls out his phone, typing on it lazily. Through your bubbling stomach, confusion festers simply because he isn’t moving.

“Thought you not replying was you trying to be cute ’n shit.” A hand makes its way onto your lower back, the weight of it making your eyes bulge in silent surprise. With all your strength, you shake your head and whisper a soft sorry. He tuts, like all weirdly immature but mature, rude but nice and confusing older brother types do, dismissing your apology with a little pat on your back.

Another pat, and you’re snuggling into the blankets and letting your eyes close, mapping the way his hand feels and ignoring the way your stomach cramps. You hear the distant sound of a picture being taken, only being able to mutter a humiliated groan. There's a vibration where your phone is, and you know that the group chat has been notified of your predicament. 

“You eat? Take a shower?” Sukuna asks, mastering the art of making his concern dismissive. The silence on your end answers everything he needs to know, humming in acknowledgement. You’re a stubborn little shit who likes to suffer in isolation, he’ll give you that.

He synchs a basketball game to your TV, adamantly rotating between patting and rubbing your back until you’re snoring and curled up next to his lap.

When you wake up, you’re still cold, still sweating off your fever. You peers towards the bed, noticing the empty spot but the basketball game still softly playing on the screen. For a moment, you let your head slump back into the mattress before you force yourself out of bed to pee.

The weight in your body is too overwhelming to be horrified by your appearance when you emerge to make your way into a shared bathroom with your roommate. They’re all gone for work, and you don’t have the wit to ask where Sukuna got the time off to come fuck you in the middle of the day. Or why he was looking at your location. 

“I forgot how much of a bitchy face you have.” He comments, voice a note softer than you would usually hear, as you pad towards the bathroom. You grumble a quiet fuck you, slinking towards the bathroom.

You fix your hair to the best of your ability- standing up too long made you throw up. Your abdomen feels like it’s gone to three HIT classes in a row, hardly having any reserves to help you stand and brush your teeth. So you do it knelt over the bathtub, making sure to lock the door to make sure that stupid person of interest doesn’t see you so weak.

Rinsing your mouth out knelt over a tub is a new low, spitting the globs of toothpaste and water into the drain before you turn it off and brace the sides of the tub to stand and wander back out into the kitchen. Your bones feel like brittle, a bowling ball in your stomach forcing your posture to look horrifyingly old. It's been two days but you've aged thirty years. 

“Hi.” You greet weakly, rubbing your eyes before putting your arms back down as swiftly as you can. When was the last time you shaved?

Sukuna nods back, digging through a plastic bag. It’s only a few seconds before you’re sitting on the floor. The tile makes you twitch, and you wonder how you’re going to get up without looking like a hobbling mess. Maybe you’ll just crawl.

Soup and some electrolyte drinks are set out on the counter- along with your favorite candy. For a moment, your brows furrow, and then your lip wobbles in realization.

“Did you get that for me?”

“Can’t fuck you if you’re all pitiful and disgusting.” Is all he says, but his lip twitches into a bewitching smirk as your eyes well with tears and you sniffle out a sweet thank you. "Of course you’d cry over stupid shit like this." He adds, shaking his head. 

His shoes click bluntly against the floor, and he peers down at you with that devastatingly handsome, horribly mean face.

“You could just go fuck another girl.” You murmur sappily, lip jutting into a pout. And it’s true, you know it. The two of you have established that. He throws it in your face, too, when you tell him you’re busy or you’re too sleepy. Or when you simply don’t want to deal with his attitude.

His laugh tickles your heart, staring at him with wide, watery eyes as he bends down and gathers you into his arms. You squirm, or try to, holding any pride and ego close to your chest like a rabid animal as you let out a faux uncomfortable noise. There’s a familiar tap to your ass that urges you to stop, and you sink into Sukuna’s terrifyingly comfortable embrace as he carries you back to your room. The two of you have hardly cuddled before, the absolute most being him begrudgingly letting you cling onto him after one particularly rough night- only to shove you off five minutes later, giving you a pat on the head as if to say good job, thanks for the head, before leaving.

So this is new, awkward, when your semi friend with semi benefits sets you down with the upmost genteel fashion and retreats back into the kitchen. He comes back with an armful of products moments later. Soup, your favorite cup filled with mystery get well liquid, a straw and a big spoon.

“I don’t like big spoons.”

“That’s too fuckin’ bad because that’s what I got- stop pouting like that, it's disgusting.”

Sukuna sets everything down and defiantly does not grab another spoon for you. You make a noise in the back of your throat when he reaches over and urges you to sit up with a silent look that you’re expected to figure out. He lets you maneuver a pillow behind your back, lets you curl a blanket around your body and change the TV back to Vampire Diaries- he does not let you feed yourself.

When you reach for the bowl of soup (your favorite- chicken and stars), he uses only a percentage of his strength to swat your hand away, giving you another demand to stop sulking like a little kid before he’s crawling (crawling!) across the bed. Bowl of soup and too big of spoon in hand, he sits across from and in front of your view from the show.

He leans forward in a sort of endearing way, brows furrowed in a certain concentration as he scoops the perfect spoonful of soup and stars, holding it to your mouth. And he watches when you open your mouth with furrowed brows, lips closing around the dipped metal so that nothing drips down your chin. The broth warms your mouth, your stomach in an instant, making your face relax and your back slump into the pillow that supports you.

There’s a prickle of humiliation on the apples of your cheeks, something Sukuna would likely make fun of if you weren’t half asleep by the time he finishes spoon feeding you. And yea, there was one singular instance of him swiping away fallen liquid away with his thumb. And yea, you’re going to remember that forever. And most definitely are you going to internalize this as something more between the two of you than just friends who fuck (friend being a huge overstatement).

“I don’t like you.” You find yourself murmuring as Sukuna thrusts your clunky, metal, pink water bottle in your face. Obediently, as you always are, you sip at the liquid, swallowing down any grimace as he stares right at you while you swallow.

“You’re not my favorite, either.” He grunts, picking the cup up as soon as you set it down and representing it to you with a face.

“I’m at least second to your video game console.” Your grumble with pursed lips, taking another measly sip. When Sukuna raises his brows, you take a few more.

“Third. Second is pot. And it’s a PS4- fucking nerd.”

The part of your stomach that isn’t cramping to shit flutters, your fever probably rises, and you smile to yourself as you take a big gulp of the electrolyte solution. You swallow before he says the softest atta girl and takes the cup to set it back down.

Sukuna helps you shuffle under three big blankets, gives you your phone and goes to wash the soup bowl. You text Satoru with sick enthusiasm, to which he reiterates it in your (other) group chat where everyone just starts sending silly fangirlish memes. Shoko isn’t phased, Suguru isn’t pleased, either. But there’s an icky smile on your face, the thought of when it’ll end and Sukuna will go back to, well, Sukuna, gnawing at the back of your throat.

But you’ll pretend for today, like you do everyday.

“Are you leaving?” You ask when he comes back into the room, question answered when the bed dips once more.

He grunts a no, to shut up and sleep as he synchs up another sports game. You don’t mind, turning your head so you’re facing him. His back rests against a pillow with a floral case, one of your weighted stuffed animals squished between the weight of his back and the metal bed frame.

You stare with lidded eyes and hot cheeks, tracing the musculature of his shoulders and the sharpness of his face in the same pattern you do after he’s done making you quiver and shake and cry. The plush of the blanket is a perfect excuse for the sheen of sweat on your face, your stomach still molten lava and convulsing.

But it’s just a little more than a dull ache with Sukuna here, bored face and all.

For a moment, before you fall asleep for a third time today, you feel his fingertips, hard and gruff and soft, brush against your cheek, your chapped lips. You’re too tired to hide or quip at him in the static-like fashion that makes him laugh.

You swear you see his lips twitch when you hum affectionately. There’s a text waiting for your friends, a mental scoreboard to update. Smile number two. Four days apart. From holding a sparkler and ogling at it like a child at Satoru’s New Year’s Eve party to laying in bed sick, purring like a cat as he pets you.

“Stop looking like you’re going to die.” He all but requests, covering your face with a sliver of the blanket and looking back at the game. Grabbing the remote, he turns the volume up a few more notches to ignore your itty bitty, very sleepy laugh.

Seconds away from sleep, Sukuna uncovers it- you. His lingering gaze tingles your nose, all the way down to the tips of your toes. Your infatuation with him might as well be the cure to cancer from the faintest spark of energy it gave you.

He’s not there when you wake up. It could have been a fever dream for all you know if it wasn’t for the refilled hydro flask and oddly neat note scribbled for you to ‘drink the fuck up’ on one of your Sanrio sticky notes. There's a brief look of horror on your face knowing that he looked through your drawers to find one. 

You drink it all and take a gruesome looking picture, sending it to him with a silly caption- your way of saying thank you. Sukuna doesn’t respond, but the read receipts are on. And he doesn’t talk to you for awhile, as if he curates the perfect way to make you stay by letting the bubbling like for him simmer into nothing, only for it to come back in full force when asks if you’re awake three Thursdays later.He asks if he can still use the key you gave him to come by after the gym to shower because his little brother and friends are over and he doesn’t want to hear them blubber while they figure out their alcohol tolerance (or lack thereof).

A pearly, well built increment of yourself hopes it’s so he’ll check up on you, too, after he slinks into your room and fucks you just the way he likes- because he knows you like it, too.

And you say yes, like you always do. Tell him about this new body wash you got that he can use, that you just so happened to get his favorite drink from the store he get his protein powder and supplements from when you went grocery shopping.

you don’t even like that store lmfao

found a new prebiotic there! Saw it on Pintrest

sure

Sukuna is not immune to exploiting your obvious cartwheels to please him. He’ll never say thank you, and you won’t ever ask him to. You do it for all your friends, you tell him. Shoko’s toothbrush brand is in your bathroom cabinet when she sleeps over. Satoru’s moisturizer and favorite tooth-rotting snacks. Suguru’s blanket because he gets cold at movie nights. But Sukuna knows he could have whatever he asked for within the hour.

He’ll never address that he took care of you when you were sick. Both times. Or that there's a packet of your favorite gum in the console of his car. And he'd rather be dead than you, shit, anyone, find out that there's a hidden album of little you's in his phone. 

i’m just a good friend  *ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

we’re not friends.

It doesn’t hurt your feelings. Because you know he’s emotionally constipated, that no one’s ever really cared. Except Yuji, but little brothers always care. That whatever affection and consideration thrown his way will be burnt to a crisp, that he’ll only ever look at you like you hung the stars when no one’s looking, or only think about you at night when the weed isn’t helping him sleep. 

uh huh, we sure aren’t. see you later! make sure to stretch before you lift!!

stop texting me, it's fucking up my music

₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

?

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse, part 5.1

accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve. E-rated (overall for sexual content, this part M) CW: contains references to past abuse

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2

On AO3

5.1 Newsflash

“Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you, Robin? Eddie genuinely is the best thing that’s happened to me in a fucking age.”

“No way, shit-bird.” Robin grabbed Steve’s arm. He let her drag him back into the kitchen. She poured him a glass of milk, dumped it on a counter. She glared meaningfully at it then proceeded to butcher a pile of herbs.

“You like that Eddie guy too much,” she whispered, chopping madly, which always made Steve nervous. This week, she’d already gotten band-aids on three fingers. “What do you really know about him? Or him about you?”

“What kinda dumb question is that?” He whispered too, though the kitchen was otherwise empty.

“You’ve spent over a fortnight with him!”

“So? Look, I honestly think I’ve made a difference to his life. When we first hooked up, he was mopey and depressed. He’s totally pepped up.”

Or it could be all the sex and booze acting as his band-aid.

She paused in her chopping. “What’s he done for you?”

He makes me happier, too. Bite me.

Robin didn’t look in the mood for that kind of bull. She plucked a banana from a bowl and dumped it down beside his untouched milk.

“You know I like looking after people.” He picked up the banana. “I’ve got my meds and I’ve paid off most of my debts.”

“You told him about that, huh? Why you need the money so badly?”

“Get real, Robin. What was I supposed to say—'Hey, Eds. I’m your friendly neighborhood asthmatic call-boy.’” He stuffed the banana in his mouth.

“No. I mean, how your trust-fund went bye-bye, and what that horrible lawyer did to you.”

“Jesus, Robin. No!” He swallowed quickly before he spluttered all over her. “It’s not exactly a turn-on. Mommy and Daddy were loaded, and I was their coddled brat who’d been told he’d never want for anything. Before they went and inconveniently died.” He always impressed himself when he got that word out without a hitch, though it never came without a pang. “Then it turned out my trust fund was in debt. So my dad’s lawyer got me working it off with my ass, passing me around his friends. Then I finally got away, got a shitty job as a shitty bellhop… and caught pneumonia. In LA. Nobody catches pneumonia in LA! I mean, it’s beyond pathetic.”

“It’s tragic, Steve, and it’s not your fault. I honestly still don’t know how a trust fund can be in debt."

“Look, it’s over.” He took a glug of the milk and met her scowl with a cutting one of his own. “I’ll be able to rent somewhere of my own when he’s through with me.”

“Yeah, and I wouldn’t worry so much, but you look waaaay too sad when you say that. Be careful Steve. I don’t wanna have to stab lover-boy’s eyes out with an ice-pick.”

“Don’t you dare. His eyes are dazzling.”

She harrumphed despairingly then drew a key out of her apron pocket and dumped it by the banana skin. “My roomie is away. Get some sleep, or heaven help me, Steve, I got a filleting knife here with your name on it.”

…

Eddie was poring over his game notes—sucking on a cigarette and stressing his pants off. Someone knocked loudly on the door. A jerk in a three-piece suit, who Eddie vaguely recognised, let himself in.

“Mr Munson, I’m terribly sorry to disturb you.” The newcomer offered a preening smile. “I’m Larry Kline, head concierge here at the Beverly Hills Yorkshire. We met briefly when you checked in last month.”

“Right.” He unenthusiastically shook Kline’s outstretched hand. Kline’s beady eyes slid around the room. “Uuuuuh, is there a problem?”

“Have you had company staying here, Sir?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You are supposed to sign in extra guests, Sir. But seeing as you’re a very special guest, we can overlook—”

“Look, man, nobody else is staying here.” He turned away, stubbed out his smoke in frustration. “Is that why you’ve come to play ‘persecute the freak?’”

Kline’s hand flew to his chest in an attempt at mortification that reminded Eddie what an amazing actor Steve was. Steve’s douchiest fluttering of his lashes never looked that fake: “It was not my intention to offend, Sir. Please accept my sincerest apologies.”

“Accepted,” muttered Eddie, wishing he’d get lost.

Kline cleared his throat. “I am here, ahem…”

About how I’ve made your sleazy hotel stink like good ol’ Reefer Rick’s?

Kline presented a silver ashtray with a couple of mints and a scrap of paper. “It’s a delicate matter concerning your check this week, Mister Munson. I’m sure it’s just an error at your bank, but it’s bounced.”

“What?”

Kline put down the ashtray on the doily-covered occasional table. “It hasn’t been paid.”

“That’s gotta be a mistake.” Eddie found himself fiddling madly with his rings. There’d been a fat row of numbers on that check from the gaming company—he was richer than God! Apart from the house he’d bought for his uncle, he’d not gone too mental. Okay, there was the collectors’ guitars, the studio time, the… penthouse.

He got rid of Kline with a mumbled promise that he’d call the bank. He’d have to find his check-book to find the number. He stared at the phone, a ghastly turquoise monstrosity with a golden handset. And then at the mints in the ashtray, under which was tucked an invoice for 8,347 dollars and twelve cents.

He stared at it, unmoving, for a long time.

Then he ate the mints and tucked the invoice under the phone. He’d call Dustin. Later.

...

5.2 on tumblr .... On AO3

I've added a hashtag #thefreakinthepenthouse for ease of finding the earlier parts. I am very happy to tag usernames if anybody is interested... please let me know.

Thank you for reading. Likes reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

On tumblr: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3.1 Part 3.2 Part 4.1 Part 4.2

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3