#i feel like for him while the hair like. Is tied to the transition its also like a. mental health thing

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

brainstormin'

#i am sorting out Ideas #i feel like for him while the hair like. Is tied to the transition its also like a. mental health thing #its not just cutting this is going to ease the dysphoria its this shit is long and greasy and it makes me feel bad yk #plus shorter hair is easier to wash! therefore you shower more therefore you feel better #i think the fact his hair is grown out by dark era is just a sign of Spiraling #had he been able to bother about it he wouldn't have let it get to there in the first place #i think beast dazai should have longer hair than dark era #he feels a lot like that post thats like im probably trans but i dont have time for that rn #probably puts his hair up in a bun or smth #does this all make sense #anyway also wheres that post where its like dazai would do his own top surgery while he was in hiding because im subscribed to that #that is what happened #my art :d

[calmcoldevening]

Pov: You knew slashers, when you was a child (Slashers x fem!reader)

I'm back! Well, it os a lazy post from my drafts, until I end my new idea <3

TW: no

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, Brahms Heelshire, brothers Sinclair

P.S.: English is not my native language, so lot of these words was translated by simple translator, sorry for misspells and e.t.c.

Enjoy this!

Thomas Hewitt

The transition to a new school has always been a great stress for a child, especially in the middle of the school year.

You and your parents often moved from city to city. Maybe it was their work, or maybe they just wanted to show you as many different places as possible so that your childhood would remain really memorable — you didn't know. But the constant moving was followed by a change of schools and kindergartens. On the one hand, you liked it — new acquaintances, interests and a lot of positive emotions, after all, you were a cheerful and active child — but it also brought its inconveniences — you didn't have "best" friends, you had no more than a couple of months to communicate with each of them, and multiple the change of the team has made you a real chameleon in society.

You were ten years old when you and your parents moved to Texas. The age when most classes have already been divided into peculiar interest groups, which are quite difficult for a new person to join. That's why your mom decided to bake cookies that you could distribute to new classmates. Who doesn't like homemade cakes? You actively participated in the cooking process. A little more practice, and you could learn these cookies on your own. As soon as the treat was ready — several pieces were successfully taken away by your father — your mother beautifully put it in a colored box, now tied with a ribbon. The inscription "Welcome" was painted on the lid in gold paint.

It was very hot in this area of Texas. Therefore, on your first day of school, you decided to limit yourself to a beautiful white T-shirt with some simple pattern and black shorts. The first impression is the most important, right? Your mom took you to school by car. At the reception desk, your mom introduced you and found out the number of the right office. After kissing you goodbye on the cheek, she left you to your own luck. Although you were already used to it, a nervous feeling of anticipation bubbled somewhere in your chest; your palms were sweating.

After a good seven minutes, you were standing in front of the right class, 212, clutching a box of cookies to your chest. Adjusting the strap of the gray backpack, you exhaled anyway.

Your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Sullivan, introduced you in the office. A lovely woman with curly locks hanging down on both sides of her face and freckled cheeks. Her soft figure, dressed in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, caused a surge of strength and confidence in you. The woman lightly put her arm around your shoulders, so motherly, and asked you to tell about yourself.

"My name is Y/N Y/L," your voice trembled slightly while your gaze ran over the children sitting in the classroom, "I'm ten. I like animals and beading... Mm, my parents and I move around a lot, so I don't think I'll stay here for more than two months. I hope we'll become friends."

You ended your performance with a sincere warm smile. Mrs. Sullivan asked you to take an empty seat. Your choice fell on the farthest place by the window; a guy was sitting behind it, hunched over and staring at the street. Was he weird? No, rather unusual. He had long black hair, so unusual for a boy; his gaze was lowered somewhere on the dusty road near the school, so you couldn't see his eyes. Sitting down next to him, you quickly took out a notebook and pencil from your backpack.

"Hello?"

The boy seemed startled by your voice. He looked at you uncertainly, and you saw a face wrapped in bandages. Sad cornflower blue eyes peeked out from under the white cloth.

"I'm Y/N," you whisper, holding out your hand to the boy, "And what's your name?"

There was no response. Disappointed, you lowered your hand, now paying attention to the teacher's explanation. The woman was writing down her words on the blackboard, and you quickly began copying them into your notebook, clutching a pencil until it crackled.

There was something about this boy that attracted you. It doesn't matter if it was his shyness or isolation — you decided that you definitely want to make friends with him.

At recess, you approached a group of girls. They were dressed up like girls from fashion magazines that you often saw in kiosks by the road.

"Hi," — you said with a light smile.

"Well, hello," said one of the girls, popping a bubble of gum.

"I want to ask. M, that boy," you pointed to the long—haired boy, "What's his name? I asked, and he ignored me."

"Haha, he won't answer you. That's our little Tommy," another girl hissed sarcastically, giggling, "Thomas Hewitt is weird. Very strange. I heard that his father is his brother!"

"And he's also a terrible freak!"

You awkwardly put your hand in your hair. Thomas didn't look as disgusting as the girls described him. It's all rumors. And what to take from these children, they probably didn't even try to talk to Hewitt!

You didn't talk to this company anymore. After waiting for lunch, when all the children went out to the garden at the school, you again approached the boy. He didn't budge. It seems he hasn't even written anything since you sat down next to him.

"Hey, hello?" you waved your palm in front of the guy's face, "Thomas, right?"

This time the boy paid attention to you. There was no emotion visible under the thick layer of bandages, but you were sure that he arched an eyebrow questioningly. He's wondering how you know his name?

"You were sitting alone, so I came over. Your name is Thomas, right?" you repeated the question, finally the boy nodded, "That's wonderful! I'm Y/N, let's get acquainted."

Smiling happily, you hand the guy an open box of cookies. Golden crust with chocolate chips. You had no desire to share such a delicious thing with such terrible and tactless people. And Tommy. Tommy was different. He was timid and calm, unable to cause harm.

"Help yourself," you babble, sitting down next to Hewitt, "I made them myself! Not without my mommy's help, of course..."

You blush slightly and see Thomas's eyes narrow. He smiled! He seems to be starting to like your company.

"Can I call you Tommy?"

• Thomas has become noticeably happier since you met him. The boy began to spend more time outside the house, in your company (Luda was very surprised by this, because usually after school Tommy always came home and sat in his room).

• For your birthday, Thomas himself sewed a soft toy for you, a fox, as he found out later, this is one of your favorite animals. The toy was sewn from different, but matching pieces of fabric, a little sloppy, but quite skillfully. It made you smile. You threw your arms around Hewitt for joy.

• Once you praise him, Tommy immediately blushes a lot. It's good that it's not visible under the layer of bandages. From the moment you became friends, Thomas's self-esteem has risen a little.

• When you first offered to help Thomas change the bandages, he strongly refused. The boy just couldn't let you see his face. But when he finally gave up, Hewitt was pleasantly surprised that you didn't scream and run away. You didn't call Tommy a freak or a monster, but only sympathetically stroked his scarred cheeks.

• Over time, you began to understand Thomas without words, absolutely. You found the right answers in his movements, grunting, awkward head turning or excessive gesticulation. Even Luda was a little amazed at your nonverbal communication, but the woman was glad that her son finally found a real friend.

• Tommy often showed you his drawings. It was like the scribble of a five-year-old child, but you were always happy to accept the leaves and hang them over your bed. Basically, Thomas drew his family: angry Charlie in the corner of the paper, Monty sitting next to him in a chair, a little further away, Luda was cooking, and in the center of the drawing you and Thomas holding hands and smiling.

• It was the first time you begged your parents to stay in this city longer. Fortunately, they agreed after seeing your enthusiasm for the "strange boy".

Brahms Heelshire

• Your parents and the Healers kept in touch for a while, you can say your families were very close. You first met Brahms on his fifth birthday. He was a very well-mannered but private boy, so Mrs. Heelshire was only too happy to introduce you.

• At first, your communication did not work out. Brahms was a rude child in places, took away your toys and teased you.

• His true attitude towards you showed up when you didn't come to his house, although you were visiting the Heelshire family every Monday and Wednesday. He was seriously worried. All morning Brahms sat in his room by the window and looked at the road going through the forest, waiting for your little body in your favorite blue dress to appear from behind the trees. But you were never there. It turned out that you were just sick. That day Brahms went to your house and did not leave your bed, squeezing your hot palm.

• Your parents worked most of the time, so they were not against your games with Heelshire Jr. You stayed in their house more and more often, sometimes even overnight, and you and Brahms made noise all night, forcing his mother to swear. But still, the woman was glad that at least Brahms was behaving quite comfortably and boldly with someone.

• You were only a couple of months younger than Brahms, but you thought it was a good reason to tease you.

• The boy allowed you to enter his room without knocking, consider it a worthwhile privilege, because Heelshire does not let everyone into his personal space.

• When you were sad, Brahms brought you bouquets of flowers hastily made with his own hands. That's why his palms were green most of the time.

• Brahms makes wonderful sandwiches. He often makes them when the two of you are having a "picnic" in the garden. Although in fact he agrees to it only to admire you.

• Heelshire loves sweets very much. Very. His mom doesn't allow the boy a lot of sweets and cakes, so you secretly bring them to him from home. The boy is insanely happy.

• Brahms loves kissing. This habit, or rather the need, appeared in him because you praised the boy in this way. Has he finally cleaned the room? A kiss. Did he break his mom's precious vase during the catch-up today? A kiss! So now he can demand them for any reason. He especially likes it when you kiss him before going to bed, and Brahms falls asleep hugging you.

• You're his best friend. That's why Brahms trusts you with all his secrets. You are the only one to whom he has told about the strange and frightening thoughts that sometimes sound in his head.

"Good night," Mrs. Heelshire said, turning off the light and closing the door behind her.

You smile and blow her a kiss, covering your mouth with your palm. When the woman's footsteps recede, you exhale with relief, plopping down on the pillow with force. Squinting your eyes, you wrinkle your nose, trying to blow away the stuck strands of hair from your face. Brahms giggles and gently tucks your hair behind your ear.

The room is cool. The window is slightly ajar, letting in a light autumn wind. The curtains are swaying from side to side, taking chaotic frightening shadows.

You get under the covers up to your nose. Brahms follows your example, pressing his whole body against you, and you stroke his head.

"If I ever do something very, very bad, will you stay with me?" Heelshire whispers, looking up at you.

You look into his sad emerald eyes and laugh. He likes to put pressure on your pity, because he knows that at such moments you see him as a tiny abandoned kitten.

"I don't think you'd do anything so bad, Brahms."

"But if I do. What if everyone turns away from me. Even mom and dad. Will you stay with me?"

You pressed your lips together, frowning. Brahms had never asked such strange questions before. And how can a child who is only eight years old think about something like that after a while. Looking down at the ceiling, you turned your head, looking into Brahms' eyes.

"Yes. I'll stay."

"Honestly?" Heelshire asks incredulously.

"Honestly."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise you, silly boy!" you abruptly cover his face with a blanket, holding the edges on both sides of his head.

The boy was kicking, trying to get out from under your weight, while you tried not to laugh. Taking pity on his futile attempts, you took off the blankets, admiring Brahms' flushed face. Heelshire was breathing heavily, and his cheeks and nose were burning like Chinese lanterns that your parents launched on your birthday.

"I won. Again," you grin.

Brahms is silent. You sigh and lie down again, turning your back to Heelshire. Your eyes are shining with joy, and your lips continue to curve in a smug grin. You know that Brahms will not dare to do something to you in return. He always let you get away with such antics. Absolutely always.

When you are ready to fall asleep, through the chatter in your head you hear a plaintive whisper. Having opened your leaden eyelids, you groan with displeasure.

"Kiss me," Brahms whines, and you get up on your elbows, chuckling softly.

"Okay," you kiss Heelshire on the lips, "Good night, Brahms."

• "Now I've won," Brahms croaks, pressing you against the wall and spreading his hands on both sides of your head. Just like a child. Except now he's not the victim here, but you. Although was he ever a victim in your games? Rather, he always played the role of a presenter, you just didn't notice it, as if you were looking through your fingers. And who would have thought that that innocent little boy would ever stand in front of you, towering over your body by a good two heads, and grinning with eyes shining in anticipation through the black slits of the mask.

Sinclairs

Christmas is the most mysterious and magical holiday of the year; the day when the whole family gathers at one big table to properly celebrate this moment together; the day when you receive a lot of gifts from all kinds of relatives, which you sometimes did not realize; the day when all wishes come true.

You clumsily shuffled along the road, shaking your back every now and then to adjust the heavy backpack. Things inside rattled a lot, and you tried to straighten your back faster to avoid crumpled packages.

Christmas was your favorite holiday. And although your parents have been working constantly lately, you were glad that you could spend this family holiday with your friends.

You met not so long ago, only about four months ago, when you first moved here. Ambrose turned out to be a very nice and cozy city with friendly and caring people. Mrs. Sinclair, Trudy, and your mom became friends right away— their interests converged on art. That's when I met her sons, the woman suggested that you make friends with them because of their similar age. And it turned out to be a very good idea. The boys quickly became addicted to you.

Once again adjusting the canvas straps of the backpack, you quickly climb the steps requested by the snow and knock on the sand-colored door several times. On the other side, there is a fussy shuffling and dissatisfied grumbling.

"Hello," you say, smiling, when the door swings open in front of you, revealing a view of the timid Vincent.

The guy nods to you and opens the door wider, motioning you to enter. You kiss Sinclair on the cheek of the mask. Brushing off your feet at the threshold, you quickly take off your shoes and leave your backpack at the shoe shelf. Music from an old radio is coming from the kitchen, some station unknown to you is playing old songs from the seventies. As soon as you entered the room, Vincent stood at the stove again, frying something in a frying pan. Whenever Trudy was busy making figures and arranging a museum that she someday wanted to open, it was Vincent who did the cooking and other household duties. Bo was stubborn and didn't want to do "women's" work, and Lester was still too young for such a large-scale activity. The latter was now sitting at the table and skillfully sliced an apple with a hunting knife into neat pieces.

"Morning, Lester," passing by the boy, you leave a small kiss on his forehead.

"Hi, Y/N!" Sinclair winces contentedly, flapping his big copper eyes.

You sit down next to the boy and imperceptibly take a piece of apple from under his nose, throwing it into his mouth contentedly. There were already several plates and cutlery on the table. Vincent loved order, so he prepared everything in advance.

"Where's Bo?" you ask, rocking slightly in your chair, for which you get a menacing look from Vincent.

"Mom asked him to help at the museum," Lester replied, "He should be back soon."

You notice how Vincent turns off the stove and turns his whole body in your direction. The guy takes a notebook lying on the table and quickly scribbles something.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"Yes," you say shortly, when Vincent closes the notebook and puts it back, "Honestly."

Sinclair puts the hot omelette on plates and pushes you a bowl of oatmeal cookies. You happily take one piece. Vincent sits down across from Lester and lifts the mask just enough to see his mouth. You frown, noticing the edge of his deep scar.

"Hey everyone," it was heard from the threshold, when the front door slammed shut with force, "Oh, honey, and you're here," Bo walks past you, lightly touching your shoulder in greeting, and sits down next to Vincent.

During brunch, you watch Lester and Bo actively negotiate. When their plates are empty, you decide to step in.

"Since everyone is here," you babble happily, clapping your hands to attract the attention of the guys, "I want to give you gifts a little earlier than planned, do you mind?"

"Of course not," Bo abruptly pushed away from the table, "I'm all for it, babe."

Bo winked at you playfully, to which you rolled your eyes. Vincent signed something, and you looked at Lester. Your sign language was not yet good enough to understand most of the phrases, you barely remembered the words of politeness. That's why you've always relied on little Lester at times like this.

"He said: "Why are you doing this so early?"", Lester explained, innocently blinking his eyes.

"What's the difference," Bo frowned, "Sooner or later — the main thing is that she gave."

You didn't comment on the elder Sinclair's words, but just got up from the table and went to your backpack resting in the hallway. When you came back, the brothers were already sitting in a kind of semicircle on the floor. Bo sprawled impressively closer to the sofa and grinned in anticipation; Lester, in his usual manner, sat cross-legged; while Vincent tucked his knees to his chest.

You sat down between the twins and put the backpack next to you, unzipping it. You said "Close your eyes" and, as soon as the boys fulfilled your request, you began to take out colorful boxes. All packages had the same color, different sizes. Alternately, you put the gifts in front of them and allowed them to watch. Lester giggled when he saw that his box was the biggest.

"Merry Christmas," you drawled, spreading your arms out to the sides.

The very first gift was opened by Lester. The boy happily tore open the package, scattering the paper around him, and screamed when he saw the cherished surprise. A big stuffed fawn. He had a soft beige body and neat brown horns sticking out in different directions. The muzzle was cheerful, with a big nose and shiny button eyes.

"I knitted it especially for you," you babble, smiling, when Lester looks up at you with an enthusiastic look.

"Thank you!" the boy throws himself on your neck with lightning speed, squeezing your body until the bones crunch; you stroke his back.

Bo was a little surprised when he saw a set of tools under the wrapper. He loved tinkering and was well versed in mechanics; the fact that you remembered about this hobby touched the guy a little; his lips curved in a slight smile.

"Well, thanks, babe," Bo grins, patting your hair.

You're pouting a little. All the time spent in the morning combing this tangled nest has gone to waste. You are dissatisfied with blowing off a few strands that caught your eye.

The last person to open his gift was Vincent. The boy very tenderly unwrapped the package, not trying to tear it, as if stretching and savoring this moment. You watched the deft but careful movements of his fingers with burning impatience. Finally, Sinclair took off all the paper, removing it from the side, and looked down at what he saw. A large set with colored pencils. Exactly the one that the boy looked at with undisguised envy in the window of an art store about a month ago. Did you remember that? With slightly trembling hands, Vincent takes the box and turns it in his hands. There were several more drawing pads under it.

Vincent looks at you, and you see the trembling gaze of his azure eyes in the slits of the mask. Such unbelievers, but at the same time grateful. You crawl up to the boy and hug him tightly, nuzzling his neck. Vincent lets out a ragged sigh.

"Merry Christmas to you, boys," you congratulate them once again, seeing the boys' satisfied smiles.

"So why did you decide to give it to us so early?" Lester asked, clutching the toy to his chest.

"Oh, that," you awkwardly fix your hair, "Well, my parents decided to leave. To another state. We'll leave tonight. So I thought I could have some fun with you now."

There was an oppressive silence in the room. You were afraid to look up, but you could feel the disappointment on the boys' faces. Your heart was painfully squeezed in your chest, from which you gritted your teeth with a creak.

"Will you come back?" Bo broke the silence.

"I don't know. Dad was offered a job in another state. Mom just said I wouldn't be able to see you."

You looked at each of the boys in turn. Vincent's head drooped, Bo's brows furrowed, and Lester's lips tightened into a crooked thread. The elder Sinclair sighed heavily.

"We'll be waiting. All together," he looked at you from under his brows, "Just try not to come back to us."

• Vincent loves sweets; but, often, Bo takes most of the goodies. That's why you put an envelope with several edible bracelets in one of the donated notebooks. Bo will probably consider them girly and will not take them away from his brother.

• You have been knitting a fawn for Lester for about five days; the boy is very happy with your gift. Your relationship is like a brother and a scary sister. He is always ready to rely on you; Sinclair is glad that he has such a caring person, unlike the same brothers (in particular Bo).

• Trudy adores you. You could say that in these few months she began to perceive you as her own daughter. You even know where the spare keys to the back door of the house are.

• Bo always tries to impress you as a self-sufficient high school student. He saw his father's old magazines with tackles, seduction and other materials not for children, so he decided to train on you. He didn't notice how he fell in love.

• Vincent is a good cook.

• Most of Vinnie's drawings in the new notebooks are you. He will paint your portraits for many years after your leaving.

#slashers x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelsire x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair

[cafeinthemoon]

Ruins - Part XVIII

Chapter 18/?

Wordcount 2,3k

Title Part XVIII

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Previous chapters 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8 . 9 . 10 . 11 . 12 . 13 . 14 . 15 . 16 . 17

Symbols ⭕ . ➕. 💛

Warnings: none

Tagging @holdyourwine @lilacshouko @shirayuki-ayumi (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: So... its been a while lol First, let me tell you that this time I've spent without posting on social media was important, because I was really tired. I was stressed from work, I started college and was worried about all of this, so I barely had the time or the energy to sit in front of the notebook and write something, or even edit my drafts. I was feeling saturated from it, and sensed that if I continued to do it, the results, that is, the next chapters of my ffs, would be trash. I hope you understand this time.

This chapter is like a transition, and that's why it's short compared to others. The next one we will finally have the process of marriage and the rest, which I've been wanting to work on for too long! Now I'm really excited for that! So have this brief update and I see you in the next one :)

You didn’t wait until they approached your spot, neither you said anything to express your surprise: once you laid your eyes on them, you let go of Hades’ hand and, without waiting to see if he was going to follow you, you started running toward the group. There was no mistake: there you had your parents, your sisters and your niece, all of them marveled by the vision of the Gardens and cheered up by the fact that you were the first person they met once they crossed the Gates.

Your happiness deepened when you reached them at last: they were all well dressed and had refreshed expressions, indicating that, as much as your own travel to those lands, theirs was far from tiring despite the distance between Valhalla and Midgard.

As a little child who were left in a neighbor’s house for an entire day, once you saw your mother, you passed straight by a surprised Hermes and threw yourself in her arms. All the thoughts, anxieties and expectations you carried that morning came back at once, and you just started to cry.

– Mom – you mumbled – Is that really you, mom?

Though she responded to your gesture with equal emotion, even she was surprised with all those tears.

– My baby! – she laughed – You’ve missed us this much?

– You have no idea – you whispered back, now looking into her eyes.

Your father, who was watching everything with diversion, approached you two, and you opened your arms to hug him too.

– Y/n-chan, is it just me or are you a bit taller since the last time we’ve saw you? – he joked, putting his hand upon your head – What have they been feeding you?

You laughed until you were breathless: not only you’ve long passed the period of growth, but you were also the shortest among your sisters for most of your lives, and that has been a matter of interest for your father since you were, in fact, little. You used to get angry with this in the beginning, but later you’ve learned to send the provocation back to him, just like you did that time.

– Well, maybe you’ve became shorter, dad. It’s just a matter of perspective!

Everyone laughed, and you finally turned to your sisters.

Luna, who, just like you, shared physical resemblance with your mother, was dressed in blue and had her hair tied in a single, long braid; Helena, who was more like your father, had a pair of big eyes glowing with all the things she was seeing, and a curly hair left untied, spreading around her shoulders, where she had a rosy shawl to protect her against the evening’s breeze. Though she was way younger than you, she has passed you in height, and everything indicated that she would keep growing.

Luna was the one holding Ellie, your niece, and the baby let out a sequence of little screams when you arrived, eager to get your attention. She started laughing when you took her in your arms and the girls came to hug you.

– How are you doing, girls? – you asked between the hugs – You’ve never looked so beautiful!

– The same could be said about you – it was Helena’s calm response.

You laughed.

– They have really good cosmetics around here!

– I’m willing to try them, then! – Luna commented, enthusiastic.

Still holding the baby, you finally turned to Hermes.

– Thank you so much for bringing them here, Hermes-sama. It’s the best gift you’ve ever gave to me.

The gods’ messenger, always in his composed manners, nodded.

– I was just doing my job, y/n-san.

Ellie was the first to see when Hades approached, pointing at him with a curious expression. You turned and immediately felt the heat coming up to your cheeks: you’ve got so excited when you saw your relatives that you just left him behind, and only then you realized that this wasn’t the most appropriate thing to do, for despite being his bride and having built a strong, intimate bond with him, you were still human and he was a god, and that could be seen as offensive for anyone who would hear of this.

With this in mind, you stepped ahead and were going to apologize for your behavior, but you had no chance, for you were no longer the focus of the group: while Luna and Helena stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and fear, your parents, immediately understanding they had another divine being before them, bowed their heads in respect.

You soon took the responsibility of doing the presentations.

– So… This is Hades-sama, from Greece – you spoke in a low, shy manner – He’s the King of the Underworld and, as Hermes-sama might have informed you, my future husband.

Hades, now by your side, smiled with sympathy.

– It’s a beautiful family you have, y/n – and, approaching your parents and putting one hand on each one’s shoulders, – You are the family of my future wife. You bow to no one.

Their faces brightened up at those words, said in a soft, comforting tone, and you felt a sort of pride with the scene: if there was any chance of your family not accepting your relationship or not trusting him – after all, that marriage meant taking you away from them and to Hellheim – it disappeared the moment they were treated with genuine respect. You mother, in particular, was satisfied with what she was seeing, which you noticed in the clear message you’ve caught in her eyes: being the responsible for three girls who would soon start their own lives out of her guardianship, it was only natural that the kind of people with whom they’d chose to live was among her biggest worries, and, whatever she was expecting in this sense, to see one of her girls becoming a god’s wife was beyond her imagination; but, if you were happy with this, she wouldn’t ask for more.

Hades greeted your sisters with manners that reminded you of the old gentlemen you used to see in important events at your city, nodding and making brief comments about their beauty. You and the girls always made fun of this, because the old – and, many times, uninteresting – men were the only ones who would behave like this, but having that polite, handsome man making use of those manners without the affectation typical of those other ones convinced them of the honesty of his words, and that left them ecstatic.

Finally, he turned to you and to your niece, who has been observing him with attentive eyes since he arrived and had no problems in being picked up by him, laughing and stretching her little arms to the stranger who received those gestures with diversion.

– And this is my niece, Ellie – you introduced the baby while passing her to his hands; and, with a playful smile, – I guess she likes you!

– Me or my earring? – he asked in return, laughing as he tried to keep the girl’s hand away from his ear; and, to her, – Your curiosity surpasses my expectations, little one!

Though Ellie clearly didn’t understand what curiosity or expectations meant, she seemed to enjoy being held by Hades more than by yourself, because, after playing with her for a moment, she refused to return to you when you tried to pick her back, provoking everyone’s laughter.

And, as expected, your mother was the first to verbalize her opinion on this.

– You have a way with small children, my Lord! That’s surprising, to say the least!

Hades turned to her with a sort of prideful, nostalgic smile.

– I am the eldest of four brothers – he let Ellie hold his index finger – I still remember when each of them were just like Ellie-chan.

Hermes, who was observing everything in silence, was the first to reply that time.

– Let’s pray that this conversation never reaches Poseidon-sama’s ears, uncle.

– I agree with you, Hermes-sama – you, the only human there who met Poseidon, completed with a clever smile.

***

Hermes led your family to rooms on the wing of the apprentices on the human lodge, so that you would stay close to them for the entire period of their stay. It was established that, while your parents would have one room for themselves, your sisters and the baby would stay in a contiguous one, both located on the floor under your own room; to access them, you’d only need to walk down the stairs and cross a corridor for a few meters.

Just like the apprentices, they were all allowed to visit the Gardens and take their meals at the common room, and they enjoyed each opportunity in that sense. Well, actually, your parents decided to turn their stay at the blessed lands into a second honeymoon, something that was first pointed out by Helena and confirmed by you and Luna when you saw them walking with their hands entwined in the Gardens in the next morning of their arrival; your sisters, on their turn, had no difficulties in making friends with the other girls, particularly with Heracles’ disciples, so that later he came to express his contentment in knowing this, stating that you were lucky to have such excellent siblings.

***

Those days spent in the company of your beloved ones were the happiest since your arrival at the divine lands: having your relatives and the man you loved in the same place, and seeing them getting along, was more than your could ask for, even when you knew it wouldn’t last forever.

About this, you already have established your opinion, which was discussed later.

You were taking care of your flowers at the Green House. Your garden, by the way, was growing larger, and that only added to your contentment.

That afternoon, you were upon a small staircase, watering the flowers above your table, when you heard the door opening; you recognized the visitor’s steps and smiled.

– You’re late – you warned him as you walked down the stairs and put the watering can on the floor, beside the table, then crossed your arms to pretend irritation – We were supposed to to take a walk at the Gardens… but this was half an hour ago.

Hades, who was in fact the visitor, walked around the table and stopped by your side, surrounding you with his arms.

– Will you forgive me for this small crime, little one, if I reveal my reasons to you?

You shrugged.

– You can try.

As you imagined, he was with your parents.

– We’ve spent a wonderful time together – he explained – During which interesting conversations happened.

Your face heated up with that.

– Well, if these conversations didn’t include my parents narrating embarrassing episodes of my childhood that I intended to keep out of your knowledge, it’s okay for me.

This caused laughter from your partner, who replied that he then preferred to stay silent about the topics of the said conversations.

***

You had your arms leaning on the wood guardrail as your eyes followed the stream passing under the bridge. The murmur of the water, as sweet as the first time you heard it, was now like the music from a dream, from a memory you’ve long lost and then happily retrieved: yes, you were revisiting the places of the garden where you met for the second time, and now you were in the middle of that bridge where you had your first conversation about your dreams. Those events happened months ago, but to you it hasn’t been more than a few days, and the emotions you’ve experienced that day were vivid inside you.

Apparently, Hades had similar feelings towards it, and he showed it to you: you felt his fingers brushing your hair, then his hands bringing you closer, for a hug.

– Your mood seems lighter now that you have your family here, my y/n – he kissed the top of your head – The time you’ve spent with Heracles was really worth it.

– Indeed, it was – you murmured, passing your arms around his waist – Honestly, I feel even better now that they’re here. If I was scared by all the reasons I’ve told you before, now I know that it was silly of me to be afraid. There’s only room for happiness in my heart these days. Heracles-sama taught me to value the time I have with them instead of concentrating in the future days, in a time when they won’t be with me. And this is what I’m trying to do right now.

– A wise choice – Hades commented – And, judging by what I’ve learned from your parents, they must have the same view on this question. Have you already talked to them about it?

You sighed and moved away from his hug.

– Not yet. I know I have to do this, and they’re probably waiting for something of this type, but I’m still nervous about taking the first step.

– Well, if this helps, you can try to find a chance to bring out the subject during an informal moment. You know, sitting around a table and discuss things like a meeting between monarchs is quite stressful.

You turned to him with a frown.

– This is something stressful for you? – and, with a giggle, – You never told me that!

His lips stretched in a smirk in response.

– There are a few things I still haven’t told you, my girl. For example… – you felt his hand surrounding your waist and bring you back to him – I was sent straight to our future when I saw you holding your niece in your arms. You created such a beautiful scene together.

Your cheeks heated up.

– Our future? Are you talking about…? – you gasped – Hades, we will have a long time to think about this, don’t you think?

The god approached his lips from your ear, as if his next words shouldn’t be heard by anyone but you.

– I do. But there’s nothing wrong in speaking about this right now.

#shuumatsu no valkyrie hades #snv x reader #ror x reader #ror hades x reader #snv hades x reader #record of ragnarok x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader

[wanderingmind11]

Zeri x Juliana drabble

This is a short piece I wrote for Valkyria Chronicles 2 since there is nowhere near enough stuff for the pairing, let alone the game in general. Hope you enjoy!

Juliana laid on her bed, wondering about everything. Who was she, if she couldn’t prove herself to the world? She was Juliana, but what was the person behind the name. She curled up, seeking warmth on the cool night, and let her thoughts wander.

Her mind brought her to various scenes within her collective past. The manor where she grew up and spent so much time among other nobility. The grounds of the school, without a soul. The nature trails outside of campus. The village near the school, where so many students hung out. She floated in and out of them, walked around, and reached various objects, whether it was a piece of fruit or a pen, yet her hand went through. No connection with the world, these worldly attachments proved meaningless in the unconscious space. The pajamas she wore reminded her as such.

The scenes transitioned from one another. She exited stage right within the village and showed up at the manor once again. It rarely dawned on her how overwhelming the silence could be within these places. Were houses where the commoners lived ever like this? Every place has its silence, but more important were the chatter and bustling activity which easily brought a house to life. The manor needed a lot of people to achieve the same familiarity. She wasn’t sure how many people it would take, definitely more than three people, yet she could figure a much smaller house only needed at least three people. Maybe two people could be enough.

She wasn’t sure how to feel. Why was she here? She wanted to cling onto anything familiar. If people turned their backs on her, she could always retreat to her room. Not like going back home was an option while classes were in session. With nowhere to go in mind, she ended up in the main room, the center of socialization, where she performed her outward personality as a brash and confident noblewoman. It was a familiar act. Only she stood in the center of the room, unable to hide the self-esteem with which she struggled deep down inside.

And there was Zeri, off in the distance. Juliana, who didn’t expect him to be there, blushed. There he was, dressed in a tuxedo, hair neatly combed like it usually was, but she noticed the handkerchief tied around his arm, rather than placed in the jacket pocket. His face showed a special kind of softness, for which he was never known, with a soft smile and relaxed eyes. While she wished she looked better in that moment, she walked slowly toward him. Juliana wanted to know he was real, that he truly existed within her thoughts. In invitation, he extended his hand.

When their hands met, Juliana felt the warmth coming from him, flowing through her like magic. Her pajamas transformed into an elegant pink dress, which she often wore at balls, like the one from way back when, right before the school year started. The darkness gave way to the light within the room. She felt at ease.

“Shall I have this dance?” Zeri asked Juliana with gentleness in his voice. She was flustered, feeling alive in this moment.

“Of course,” she replied, as she looked into his eyes, getting lost in them, “may you lead the way.”

“My pleasure,” he said as he led her to the center of the ballroom floor. It was the two of them, the only ones who mattered here and now. They steadied each other, hand in hand, and slowly moved along the dance floor. It all felt so different to her because in the past, she wanted to stay away from him, she resented being paired with him as if it were some elaborate joke, but in this very moment, she embraced it, she was glad to have this opportunity. Time slowed down as they could truly act as one, the naturalness with which they danced spoke to their real chemistry. They knew each other better than anyone else, going beyond their past rivalry. Was he who she wanted more than anyone else? Juliana could always ponder on her feelings later. She wanted to live within this moment. For the first time in as long as she could recall, she felt at peace with her world.

#valkyria chronicles ii #valkyria chronicles 2 #zeri #juliana everhart #zeri x juliana #valkyria chronicles #drabble #writings

[lem-cup-rev]

3.5&6 | Remember / The Portal

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

-Spoilers-

THAT ROCKED!

I teared up at the end!

Oh my god!

I would say that was the strongest maintaining of momentum She-Ra has had so far. They really made the most of this sequence with its single progressively-increasing threat. I was caught up in the action all the way. Broken reality eeriness, fear, warped versions of familiar conflicts, heartbreak, bravery.

First of all, I’m hype for Horde Prime! I love how neatly it was set up that this event would summon him, regardless of what went down with the attempted portal opening. What a perfect, tantalizing segue into the next season’s new stakes.

The ending scene back in reality was so excellent. After going through a mixing pot of the entire show so far, coming back to the present moment and remembering the messy, exciting state that we left the status quo, every character having a meaningful reaction to the situation. It made the series feel so tied together, so intentional, so full of interesting characters going through changes.

Angella’s speech got me straight in the heart. It tied up her and Glimmer’s arc so well. I wasn’t really expecting anything to give way in their conflict, and for Angella to recognize her mistakes was so surprising and compelling.

I cared about the Best Friend Squad's friendship a lot more than I ever have before. It felt so meaningful when they got together and started remembering how comfortable they are with each other. I love that the Bow’s dads episode actually came up in a meaningful context!

ENTRAPTA! 💜 We have come full circle to the sinister mad scientist in her castle! She is fully my second favorite character now. She has so much personality, all the time. All her hair stuff is so fun. I love the way she talked about friendship in this one. Her remembering Hordak was really powerful! I’m feeling that relationship so much! And I love that she’s the supergenius character who knew reality was broken immediately. But still didn’t know about the life she left behind!

Micah. Extremely cool knowing he was a real participant in the fantasy because he’s still alive, but the others thought he was an illusion. I love that he tried to say so at the end.

All of the “dream come true” alternate realities were so cool and eerie. It really shows a creativity in character writing to show who they would be in a completely different story. It was all so nostalgic and simple, making it feel like the characters have really changed throughout the story. It was especially creepy in the Fright Zone where Adora doesn’t know they’re the bad guys – the idea that she successfully sacked Thaymor, and the field photos of the princesses looking scary, especially Glimmer.

Madam Razz was a delight to have in class. We really haven’t seen her in a while. I like her whole thing. I really like how the legend of Mara has shadowed the story for many, many episodes, usually tantalizingly vague but really important to Adora. Razz’s hint here that Mara saved the world. The way her name is a power word here, symbolizing everything that changed after Adora left the Horde. (It was extremely funny when it appeared on the cake.)

I love the initial reality warping - things disappearing, time skipping, memories adjusting. It felt like it was playing with the narrative itself. The illusion was trying to tell a certain story, but the characters were noticing the scene transitions and plot holes. The character writing and visual effects like the memory flashes felt really strong, and it was just scary and exciting.

I love Scorpia hating Adora on sight. I like to imagine that this is normal for her - that Scorpia is just as willing to be a complete dick to someone as she is to dote on them, it just depends on her first impression.

Seeing Shadow Weaver be mildly stern to Catra was a gut punch. It really put in perspective how monstrous we’ve seen her be so many times.

Catra was a star here. It was extremely cool and scary to see Adora slowly remember that Catra has hurt her, that she’s scared of her. What a creepy thing to have a monstrous person acting as your friend and only your gut is telling you something’s wrong.

Catra’s half-dissolved pure hatred form was really cool. At first I thought this was a bit redundant in establishing that she’ll do anything for revenge. But then I realized this is about Adora coming to a change. She’s ready to cut Catra out as the toxic person she is. What a brutal, interesting theme. I can’t wait to see where it goes next.

So that was Seasons 2 and 3 - the second quarter of the show.

I thought there were a lot of fantastic and partially-fantastic episodes, but they were all fantastic in different ways! Ties That Bind had playful Catra mischief. Signals had ominous Horde tension. White Out had bizarrely stand-out production values and writing across the board, like a heightened version of the She-Ra appeal. Light Spinner had a moody, mysterious character tangent. The Price of Power had a more energetic, vicious Horde drama. Huntara was a return to high fantasy adventure with exciting battles and moral challenges. Once Upon a Time in the Waste was nonstop fanservice of Catra being a brutal badass. Moment of Truth was a rapid cascade of character drama and new loyalties. And the final two were, of course, their own thing entirely - a self-reflexive journey through the whole show so far, driving home the season’s final themes and character beats!

This show is fascinatingly inconsistent. I really never know what I’m going to get. Different writers seem to be going for different things. A lot of those things freaking rock.

I think it makes a lot of sense that it would be hard to pin down what this show is going for. The tension between silliness and trauma is a strange one. In a lot of ways it feels like a single-author vision, and yet I love what it was able to become being shared between many authors. Being messy and going a lot of different ways is far from the worst narrative sin. I even love when the awful episodes come up. They’re hilariously obnoxious, fascinatingly frustrating, and I get to write about them here.

This seems to be a show about villains now. The heroes are rapidly falling behind in terms of interest and strength of their character arcs. But besides that, there are simply more major characters on the villain side than there are on the hero side. Adora, Glimmer, and Bow versus Catra, Entrapta, Scorpia, Shadow Weaver, and Hordak.

I really don’t mind it with how much I like the villains. And if this show is about the cruelty and unspoken nuance of uneven power dynamics, it makes total sense that they have more to work with in the toxic friend group. But still, I’m excited to see if the heroes manage to steal the show back in the second half.

Shrewd readers will notice I stopped the Catra’s Crimes meter for now, as Catra’s arc is reaching such an exciting peak that I didn’t want to undermine the vibe by carrying on that particular joke. I wonder if it will make a return in Season 3…!

Thank you for reading. I hope you have a good night.

Next time: Long live the Queen.

#review #spoilers #episode #5⭐️ #she ra and the princesses of power #spop #she-ra and the princesses of power

[kyunisixx]

La Vie En Rose

a/n: Happy New Year, everyone! I've been wanting to follow up my first silver fox!Jimmy fic for months and finally here it is and just in time for the holidays (and a birthday gift for myself)! Here is the unofficial part 2 of "lover man". Enjoy!

theme(s): new year's, silver fox!/present day Jimmy, fluff, warning: cute ass dog, and just Jimmy being just sickeningly sweet. Ugh.

summary: Undeniably, the idea of having a dog around is utter perfection―a pet to lounge with in their antique couch, a pet to love and to adore.

“I would love to keep her.”

pairing: silver fox!Jimmy Page x f!reader

“Y/N, darling? Are you ready to go?”

She heard Jimmy yell from downstairs as she clasped the briolette cut obsidian earring on her left ear. Taking a last glance at her attire through the mirror, a black and gold themed dress with an intricate transition of lace by the hem and black heels, she took the purse from the vanity table and checked for her important belongings inside. “Yes! I’m going downstairs now.”

An exclusive invitation to a formal dinner party hosted by good friends celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary. If Y/N was honest, she’d rather spend the night dining in with her lover instead of spending a few hours of empty laughs and occasional compulsory sips of champagne every now and then to somehow lessen the awareness of how the time was dragging so slowly. Too slowly.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, Jimmy stood up from the couch, his eyes lingering on her as he approached with a gentle shake of his head.

She laughed, “What?”

“Just how did I get so lucky?” Taking her hand in his, he twirled her in a slow waltz to get a proper look. When she turned around to face him, Y/N posed playfully with a slow flutter of her eyelashes. “You like it?”

The green in his eyes sparkled in delight as he jested, “Oh no, I hate it. In fact, I want it off and tossed on the floor.”

“Why, thank you. You don’t look so shabby yourself, Mr. Page.”

‘Not so shabby’ wasn’t enough to describe his allure, donning a creaseless, stark black velvet suit. A lovely contrast to his sleek silver hair which was delicately tied into a ponytail by his nape―helplessly and wantonly, how she longed to mess it up.

No time. That could wait.

“Shall we go? The driver’s waiting.” Jimmy leaned in and kissed her temple as they walked outside.

She snuggled into the car seat, hand intertwined with his as her eyes followed the trees passing by. Starting to feel the cold engulfing her, Y/N almost regretted choosing the dress she has on now. She felt Jimmy squeeze her hand and asked, “Are you alright?” To which she nodded with a soft smile. “Are you?”

“I’m sitting right beside you, what more could I want?”

Warmth spread throughout her the apples of her cheeks and she answered by lifting his hand by her lips, kissing the slightly withered yet soft skin. Such power and dexterity, to have created some of the most potent and influential art in the history of music, yet he had the hands of the most gentle lover. Her mouth lingered before she placed her temple on the cold car window.

Her brows furrowed as she spotted something on the roadside. She squinted her eyes, “Is that-”

As the vehicle moved forward, that ‘something’ turned out to be a―

“It’s a puppy!” Y/N exclaimed. She turned to the driver and asked to stop the car before looking back to see if the pup was still there. Without thinking, she opened the door and walked, teeth immediately chattering from the chilly air. She knelt down as she got beside the crying puppy and warily held out her hand in case it cowered from her touch. She heard Jimmy follow her soon enough. “Is it alright?”

“It appears to have an injury on its back paw,” she observed and scratched the back of its ear after the puppy smelled her hand. She cooed softly, “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

“We can’t leave it out here, then, with the injury and the temperature.”

She nodded her head in agreement while gently examining the pup’s limping paw. Realizing the puppy was a girl, she replied “She’s quite friendly. She must have strayed far from her home and family.”

“We should take her to the nearest clinic while we still have some time.” Jimmy suggested.

“Do we happen to have a blanket in the trunk? Or anything I could wrap her with?” Y/N asked and stood up momentarily. The driver shook his head, “No, Ma’am. I’m afraid there isn’t any.”

She pursed her lips and looked back down, trying to figure out how to hold the pup without potentially touching its injury.

“We can use my jacket”

Her head whipped back to look at Jimmy who was already shrugging off the coat past his shoulders. She sighed, “Are you sure?”

“Of course. But we have to hurry, she’s already shivering.”

Y/N helped him wrap the jacket around the yapping puppy, avoiding the injury on its back right paw. He stood back up, the puppy now in his arms and whining.

Jimmy turned to the driver. “Take us to the nearest animal clinic, please.”

“We’re about to be late for the party.” She mumbled, head resting on his shoulder as they sat by the bench in the waiting area of the veterinary clinic. There was no doubt to Y/N’s mind they looked out of place with their attire as she stared at the succulent placed neatly in the middle of the coffee table and she almost wanted to laugh.

“We should just cancel, then.” Replied the man beside her and she looked up with a shake of her head.

“Jimmy, that’s not necessary. Mayb-”

He raised his hand, index finger interrupting her as he fished for his phone from his pocket and dialed the number. “Shh. It’s fine, I didn’t want to go anyway.”

Y/N watched in astonishment as Jimmy stood up and talked on the phone, muttering along the lines of “I’m sorry to cancel on such a late notice, Arthur.” and “We’ll make it up. Best regards.” And kissed his cheek as he sat back down with her. Her lover held onto her for a few minutes and placed his lips against her temple, she heard him inhale softly―an action he does so very often, done unconsciously―it had become their love language.

“What do we do with her?”

“Do you want to keep her?” Jimmy asked after a pause to think.

Keep her.

Y/N gasped and looked up at him with her brows raised, searching his eyes as she let his words sink in. Granted, when she moved in with him some years ago, it felt to her that it was where she had always longed to be―anywhere in the world with Jimmy was home. There was never a lingering minute of loneliness or distance even when both of them were busy and working. They had their own corners, different worlds on usual days. With him working on a project or constantly on the phone with people and her with her face buried in the nook of her laptop, they'd always find a way to somehow be around each other, simply just taking pleasure of being close and touching every now and then.

Yet, undeniably, the idea of having a dog around is utter perfection―a pet to lounge with in their antique couch, a pet to love and to adore.

“I would love to keep her.”

Mabel barked gleefully as Y/N set her glass of wine on the counter, sock covered feet gliding over the kitchen floor as she danced to the music. The Border Collie, now a few months older and heftier, jumped with a tilt of her head as she figured out how to dance along the slightly tipsy human.

Jimmy, meanwhile, laughed and watched as he washed the dishes―now putting the last plate on the drying rack before drying his hand on the towel. Y/N held out her hand to beckon him, “Come, come. Join us.”

He chuckled with a shake of his head but came to her anyway. His hands found the curve of her waist as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Jim.”

“Yes?”

“I’m so…” She trailed off. Looking out in the distance as Mabel now sat on the floor.

Jimmy hummed, “So what?”

Y/N paused, taking her time to reply. “I’m so happy. You make me so happy, I’m just glad to spend another year with you. Now with Mabel too.”

She felt him smile against her forehead, “You make me very happy, love.”

In silence and in the lulling melody of the trumpet in the background, they danced in slow circles until a booming sound went off in the sky outside, a crackling followed suit after.

Fireworks!

Y/N pulled away and took Jimmy’s hand as she ran outside, almost tripping when Mabel chased them on the way. The man behind her yelled with a hearty laugh, “Oh, careful!”

They stood on the front porch, watching as the gunpowder erupted mid-air. Y/N searched and looked at the dog, checking if she was alright. It was completely normal for pets to get frightened by sudden sounds and it may stress them immensely. However, to their surprise, Mabel only barked excitedly as the sky lit up with bursts of color. They watched in silence, looking forward to another year of love and joy.

“Happy New Year.”

permanent taglist: @jonesyjonesyjonesy , @jimmys-zeppelin , @dreamersdrowse , @thatiloveyouso , @salixfragilis , @rebel-without-a-zeppelin , @reincarnated70sbaby , @timetraveller4 @jimmylovesme (let me know if you guys want to be on the permanent taglist or a separate member taglist!)

jimmy taglist: @ritacaroline

#silver fox!jimmy page x reader #jimmy page x reader #jimmy page #jimmy page fanfic #robert plant #john bonham #john paul jones #led zeppelin fanfic #fluff for the holidays and the girls what else

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Let’s say England has a long-term girlfriend he knows isn’t the biggest fan of marriage bc her family had been really really pushy (before she got the heck out of dodge) about her marrying + reproducing ASAP. How might he react if she came to him and said she was kinda starting to like the general concept of marrying him — that is, the whole ‘together forever’ bit. Thanks!

I confess darling that I have been trying to finish this prompt for well over a year, and I offer my sincerest apologies that it’s taken me this long to finish it. Still, despite my tardiness, I hope you enjoy, and I thank you for your patience with me.

You had never intended to fall in love, not with the constant push of your relatives to fall in line like a perfect child.

First, marriage to someone they deemed acceptable, raising the perfect 2.5 children, followed by quietly settling into parenthood and complaisant contentment until the day you last drew breath.

Truth of the matter was, you had avoided all chances of romance for the first few years after you moved away from home, carefully slipping away from anyone who seemed remotely interested in you.

You knew your folks would have disproved such behaviour had they learnt the truth, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You had your own dreams to pursue, your own story to tell, your own life to live; you didn't need someone by your side to feel complete.

You were happy as you were, finding enjoyment in your work and figuring out your place in the world.

You didn’t need, or frankly want, anything more than that.

That was of course until you met him.

Falling in love with Arthur Kirkland had been a complete accident. He slipped past all of your defenses and took up residence in your heart as if he had always belonged there.

It started out slow enough; at first you simply knew him as a familiar face from the cafe in Waterstones, steaming cup of Darjeeling and a chocolate croissant sitting forgotten on the table in front of him, always too focused on his reading to pay any attention to the outside world. After one particularly crowded Sunday afternoon, he began to transition into your favorite dining companion, the two of you often taking turns paying for each other’s food. Slowly but surely, you began forgetting about your books, too wrapped up in conversation, and before you knew it-

You had come to love every part of him- the gentleman that you begrudgingly introduced to your parents, the rebellious and passionate activist, the cocky and playful little shit who had long ago memorised all the best ways to disarm you, and the ancient soul who cared so deeply, who still stretched himself thin most days in effort to protect each of his loved ones.

You fell in love with his voice, whispering sonnets and sonatas and sweet nothings in your ear while his arms cradled you from behind.

You fell in love with his eyes, still losing your footing sometimes when the light caught them just right, dreaming momentarily of summer forests and grassy glades and the misty dews of spring.

You fell in love with his smiles, from the satisfied grin at stirring up Peter’s ire to the breathless wonder each time you kissed or complimented him, to the bright, beautiful, blinding smile he wore when he was incandescently happy, his entire countenance iridescent from his joy.

You loved him completely- for his devotion, for his sweet gestures, for his damned impishness, for his wit, his sass, and the soft spoken affection.

You loved him: for his patience, for his recklessness, for his resilience, for his possessive pride that was somehow more charming than alarming.

He was unique, an enigma that, even after having lived together for years and dating even longer, kept you on your toes, his energy and random spouts of spontaneity proving to you that, even if you spent one hundred lifetimes with him, he would always remain a puzzle you would never fully solve.

And by God did you want to.

Arthur had stolen your heart away from you before you had even noticed he was close enough to take it, offering his own in its stead.

You had remained reluctant, confided in him your fears about settling down, how much you dreaded becoming trapped in a monotonous rut of tedium. He was quick to reassure you, showing through words and actions far more impassioned and teasing than he had ever shown prior, that an eternity with him could never be boring.

Even on quiet days, like today, with a steady drizzle painting the world in greys, Arthur humming quietly while adding another patch to his denim vest, and no other disturbance apart from the cat’s chittering at the robins playing in a puddle by the iron fence- Even now, you weren’t so much bored as you were pensive.

You had been thinking about a future with him a lot in the past few days, some irrelevant ad on your mobile about wedding venues catching your attention and slithering into the back of your mind.

What kind of wedding would he like? Would Arthur prefer something small and intimate, or would his hubris crave a larger venue, giving him yet another chance to prove to the world that he belonged at your side, no one else?  You couldn’t help but wonder if he would wear his uniform or a suit, if he would leave the rats' nest he called a hairstyle untouched, or if he would perhaps slick it back in that way that somehow made the normal rakishness disappear, a confident, refined cavalier standing in his place.

You knew of course that none of this mattered unless you actually talked to him first; as far as you were aware, he was content with the current arrangement, and he respected your views of marriage.

He had known, for a long time, just where the grim outlook stemmed from, and he never breached the subject again.

But now-

You had thought it was enough to hold his love, his faith, his vulnerabilities. But life was so fleeting, and now those few things were no longer enough.

You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, wanted the cheesy partners’ towel and flip flop sets. You wanted the physical reminder that you held his heart, the comforting reminder that he completely possessed your own. You wanted to be by his side forever, holding his hand through the good and the ill, facing new worlds and challenges and the uncertain future together.

You knew the risks, of course.

Marriage to a Nation carried an even heavier burden than the simple oath of “till death do us part.”

No, marrying Arthur would mean weaving your entire lives together, binding you on a spiritual level far surpassing mortality; it would mean sacrificing your chance to ever grow old, to eternally give yourself away: heart, mind, body, and soul.

But this was Arthur, who sang showtunes in the shower, who spent hours making silly faces at the cat, who was ridiculously competitive about Halloween costumes, the man who sat down and memorised the entirety of The Tempest in one night just for the bragging rights.

He already owned your heart, constantly invaded your thoughts and daydreams, and God knew he had long, long ago claimed your body, making certain not a single millimeter of his new territory went unexplored.

Would it really be so bad to give him your soul, too?

Glancing back up, seeing his eyes narrowed in concentration, his fingers handling the needle with expert precision, lips slightly parted, reading glasses fallen halfway down his nose-

You knew your answer.

It was always going to be Arthur for you, only Arthur.

Forever, should he have you.

But now you faced the challenge of telling him that.

It should be simple enough; you really held no more secrets from him, and he no longer bothered trying to hide anything from you. You loved how open you were with one another, cherished the honesty that served as the very foundation to your relationship.

But the truth was that you were terrified.

It had been so long since either of you had spoken of marriage, since the topic was even a thought in your minds, and-

What if he didn't want you anymore?

What if he-

"I can see the steam coming outta your ears."

The unexpected presence of Arthur's voice startled you, eyes darting back over to the very man who was unwittingly tormenting you.

He had barely moved from his earlier position, though his glasses had been pushed up into his hair and he was studying you curiously, if not bemusedly.

"You good there?"

By default, you nearly responded with an affirmative, some playful, lighthearted thing that would have dismissed his concern immediately. You cut yourself off mid-start, then, while shifting to sit properly in the armchair, you decided to push forward. "Can we talk?"

You watched as his expression shifted, revealing his concern as he tied off his thread, setting aside the patchwork and gestured for you to join him on the sofa.

There were a few awkward moments where you took up your favourite positions, Arthur tossing an afghan across the pair of you despite your insistence that you didn't need one, the flicker of a grin as you begrudgingly thanked him, and then shifting around as you both got comfortable, but soon enough-

"Alright, now; talketh at-eth me."

It was impossible to fight the smile his choice of words triggered, a reference to an inside joke so old now that you could scarcely recall its origin. Seeming to deem it a success, his own soft, reassuring smile greeted you.

"Seriously though, luv-" His hand came to rest atop your own, his fingers gently tapping a familiar rhythm against your skin. "What's troubling you?"

You were half-tempted to offer something short of sincerity, something innocuous and mundane that you could both laugh over and forget again within a few hours. Yet, you knew that if you didn't tell him now, didn't ask him now, you would never find the courage again.

"I've been thinking-"

"Ah. A scary premise in its own right."

"Oh, shut up," you retorted to his tease, smacking his arm for his troubles. He rewarded you with a grin, all fondness and mischief. Opting to ignore him, you pressed on, eyes downcast to avoid whatever judgement he may offer.

"As I was trying to say earlier, before I was so rudely interrupted-" The teasing fell off, and the worry crept back in. "I've been thinking. About us."

"O-oh?"

Were you not so consumed by your own anxieties, you would have noticed his stutter, would have seen the sudden tension in his posture, the fear in his eyes. As it was, you were completely oblivious to all of it, and made yourself continue at his prompting.

"I- I think I'm ready."

He mimed the word "ready" to himself, parroting it with utter befuddlement. "For wha-"

"I mean, I know I wasn't for such a long time, and-" Suddenly, you were off, half unhinged. Now that you had admitted the truth aloud, it was all rushing out of you, everything you had come to love about him, everything that-

A finger pressing firmly against your lips stopped you mid-tangent, and when you glanced up to find piercing, blazing emerald focused on you as if you were the very center of the universe, whatever remained of your ramblings disappeared entirely.

"What are you trying to say?"

A simple question, so easy to answer, yet it carried with it the weight of Infinities, demanding nothing save the truth, in its most basic state.

You were lost in his gravity, half-drowning in whatever this new feeling was. It was addicting, another riddle to be solved.

"Marry me."

Time stood still, the words weighing heavily in the space between you, now seemingly insurmountable despite being no more than mere decimeters.

Arthur showed no reaction, revealed no indication that he had even heard your plea, your query, your command, your request, and yet it echoed over and over in your own mind, the tone, the weight, the untimeliness-

Every facet- from your inflection to chosen tempo- crescandoed as an accusation, a mocking symphony that he would reject you, that you would be left with only the haunting strains of your ill-conceived proposal.

And yet-

There was a hesitation in his eyes, the face of a man who wanted wholeheartedly to believe what he had heard, but had been burned far too often in the past to dare allow himself hope.

"You-" His eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed as he studied you once more, only for the suspicion to disappear again almost immediately, disbelief swiftly taking its place. "You're serious?"

It was then that you finally read his nervousness, understood the strange emotion reflecting in his eyes.

You had lead him to a precipice, the vast Unknown before you both, and-

And he was just as fragile as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.

You gave his hand a light squeeze, hoping to ground you both, and offered him a nod. “If you’ll have me, anyway.”

His eyes flickered between your own, darting back-and-forth so quickly in search of a lie, of any doubts, of any hint that you were less than certain- yet you knew he would find none of that.

“What about your family?”

The question took you by surprise; in the moment, you had completely forgotten anyone else even existed.

You weighed his question carefully. Marrying Arthur would give your family leave to gloat in self-satisfaction, and you knew with absolutely certainty that they would hold it over your head for the next three decades. But looking into the eyes of the man before you, remembering all that you had already seen and done together, you found that others' opinions no longer mattered, really hadn't mattered in a long, long time.

“I couldn’t care less about them. Arth-”

Whatever you were going to say was forgotten as he closed the remaining distance between you, moving so swiftly that you scarcely had a moment to steady yourself before he captured you in a searing kiss, one of his most passionate by far.

Somehow, despite the suddenness of it all, the initial force, the intensity- 

He was being incredibly gentle, and moving slowly enough to almost be more a torment than a treat. Almost.

You found yourself lost in a daze when he finally pulled away, just enough for each of you to catch your breaths, just far enough that he could study you with rapt attention. You could have drowned in his eyes, endless greens magnetizing in their intensity. His hands were still cradling your cheeks, still holding you firmly in place, a not completely foreign expression creasing his features.

You couldn't quite place it, even as your memories shifted desperately in search of its mate.

"'If I'd have you?'" His words, a rhetorical refrain of your own mere moments earlier, were scarcely a shared breath between you, murmured in timbre so low it summoned a shiver. There was the smallest twitch of his lip, his head tilting ever so slightly as more of that damned deviousness made its presence known. "I fully intend to have you regardless, luv. But the formality of it all certainly adds a particular je ne sais quoi, wouldn't you agree?"

You'd be damned if he knew just how that made your heart flutter, if he knew just how much weight that reassurance had lifted from your shoulders.

Carefree, content, you offered a playful smile. "Till death do us part then?"

Arthur no longer bothered trying to restrain his smile, soft and sincere in a way that left you breathless. "I'll love you till even the stars go cold, my dear."

Thanks for reading~

#england x reader #aph england #arthur kirkland x reader #hello lovelies~! #hws england #hetalia england #aph arthur kirkland #hetalia arthur kirkland #hws arthur kirkland #reader insert #hetalia x reader #hello lovelies! #readerfic #thanks for reading! #aph england x reader #hetalia england x reader #hws england x reader

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 13 - Spinning

Tags: Friends with Benefits, Smut, Angst

Summary: You and Gojo are caught up in your feelings and he unintentionally breaks another rule. 

A/N: (18+ / minors and ageless blogs dni) New chapter! This is a bit of a filler chapter but I am working up to some dramatic things (smut and angst coming up!) plus revealing some of the secrets that happened in the timeline 👀 I hope you enjoy it! And as always comments are appreciated ☺️

- - - 

Sitting cross legged on your bedroom floor, you proceeded to fold the fresh laundry into perfectly neat piles. Music enveloped your room, the bass from your speaker bouncing off the walls as you mindlessly hummed along to the track that was playing. This is how you were choosing to unwind after a long work week, by organizing and cleaning up your apartment. There was something completely cathartic about resetting your space and you found yourself having plenty of free time on your hands recently.

Gojo has been exceptionally busy. At first there was an itch when you began seeing less of him, the two of you would plan to get together but that consistently kept getting cancelled. Eventually those plans transitioned to you agreeing on catching up with one another once things settled. Now it seems the only time you managed to hear from your friend was with sporadic phone calls and random text messages that he would send you at weird hours. The itch slowly turned into an ache, that familiar knot in your stomach making its presence known more often than usual.

There was something about the way he managed to fill the silence. You always gave him a hard time about talking your ear off but realised that he actually entertained you with some great conversations.

Even though half the time he was talking about ridiculous subject matters…

You had to hand it to Satoru though, he always spoke with such enthusiasm he would make the concept of paint drying seem fascinating.

He was fascinating.

Eight years of friendship have taught you that but you were smart enough not to feed his ego. Despite the two of you being close, Gojo still never fully let you in. You couldn’t deny that you were intrigued by him, curious to know more about the strongest sorcerer who seemed totally unphased by his own title whenever he was around you. You wanted to know more about how he fought off curses and protected people from the evils that seemed to be invisible in your eyes. Although he consistently evaded your questions, he did slowly open up about other things. You particularly loved the way his face let up when he talked about his students and it made you realise that if there was anything Gojo Satoru had committed himself to, it was his role as an instructor to the next generation of sorcerers.

Still, you usually tried to pry information out of him when the two of you would get lost in deep conversation, noticing the way Gojo would drift in his own thoughts whenever the subject seemed to focus on him.

Clearly there was an extent to which the man loved talking about himself.

There was a point when he spoke where you saw his face grow pensive as he brought up an old friend. He referenced him in passing but the way his mouth fell pained you just as much as it seemed to hurt him. Your question was on the tip of your tongue, eager to learn more about the people within his own circle, but Satoru immediately shifted the conversation onto something else.

That wall, much like his infinity, is impenetrable.

Unfortunately, the dynamics were in his favor. You wished that you could conceal your own emotions as easily around him but it was impossible. Gojo had the capability of knowing exactly how you were thinking and feeling at any given second. His incredible perception was his advantage, that’s why he is able to gauge your reactions so well.

You smiled subconsciously to yourself, goosebumps floating up to your shoulders when you realised how much you wanted your arms wrapped around his neck, your body pressing into his chest while breathing that spicy, sweet cologne…

Stop it.

You paused your action, the jeans on your lap in a mid-fold as you froze in place and your brain instantly turned off those dangerous ideas.  

You swallowed your own emotions, your abdomen tight when you realised that you had just spent the last ten minutes having intimate thoughts about Gojo.

You really shouldn’t but there was something about the way he acts around you that made you the slightest bit curious as to what he was thinking and how he was feeling.

How often did you cross his mind and did he even miss you as much as you did him?

At some point the two of you were going to have to stop this little game you were playing. Even though you weren’t seeking it out at the moment, you do want to settle down eventually with somebody you love. Satoru made it perfectly clear where he stood on relationships. He had no desire to get involved with anybody and the concept of marriage was something he completely rejected.

You recalled having a conversation with him about: 

“Are you really telling me that you’re okay living as a bachelor for the rest of your life?”

“Happily, actually…” Gojo replied, while you both continued your heated debate on the prospects of love.

“But why are you so against it?”

"I have my reasons,” he replied with a shrug.

Satoru always seemed to have a reason for everything but he was not willing to share it with you, leaving you in moments like this to analyze the little things he says to try and put the pieces together yourself.

Truthfully, you don’t want to stop as you found yourself fixated on this new…friends with benefits-ship…

Everything about it felt so good that you couldn’t even remember what things were like before you started hooking up.

How could you go back to just being friends after he’s seen you in your most vulnerable state? How were you supposed to pretend that his hands haven’t unraveled you into submission time and time again? How could you sit next to him without thinking about kissing him for hours on end? How were you supposed to listen to him talk without remembering the moments where he would whisper angel in your ear?

How the hell did you manage to keep your hands off him before this even started?

There was always the unspoken fact that you found each other attractive but since this new dynamic has started the two of you were like magnets whenever you were in close proximity to one another.

Well, you were able to keep the barrier because you were in a happily committed relationship with Haru, you interjected and suddenly you found yourself slumping your shoulders.

Haru was in love with you. He gave you the companionship you needed, he filled the silence with mindless conversations and was the one who held you when you needed him. He was the one to swallow your cries with soft kisses, that made you laugh in hysterics when you needed to boost your mood…

Your heart stopped, realizing that you were seeking out what Haru gave you with Gojo. Your gut wrenching at the idea of you using your friend to fill the emotional gap that Haru left. This ache that knotted your insides meant nothing and you were letting your thoughts confuse you into thinking that you were missing Gojo.

All you needed was to get your distraction back.

After all, Gojo is just your friend.

You had no reason to think anything else could come of this and burned any other thought about Satoru from crossing your mind for the rest of the evening.

If you even thought for a second that you might be falling for him, you would cut ties immediately. You weren’t going to put a strain on your friendship because you’re silly ideals were getting in the way of your agreement.

The two of you were just fucking.

Nothing more, nothing less.

***

Gojo studied the woman before him, acknowledging the fact that she is one of the most stunning individuals he had ever laid his eyes on. She was older than him by ten years but if it wasn’t for the age on her online profile, he wouldn’t have been able to tell.

She was tall, meeting his own towering height, give or take a few inches. Her long, pin straight hair flowed to her hips, accentuating her curves and covering her supple breasts. Her face could strike down any man that looked at her with those deep eyes and he was tempted to nibble on her full lips. Seeing her in person made Gojo realize that her price was high for a reason and totally justifiable.

Anyone would pay extra to fuck a goddess.

Somehow, he wound up here thanks to his own frustrations. His desire for you was driving him wild and his own hands weren’t enough to solve this problem. He still respected the rules that were unbroken and knew that as long as he didn’t go too far with Ami, he was fine. He wasn’t going to have sex with her but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t help him out with his current predicament in other ways.

Besides, you did tell him that he was allowed to see other people. However, that didn’t stop his stomach from twisting at the thought of climbing into bed with someone other than you. He couldn’t quite figure out what this awkward sensation was or why he was bothered by his own decision to meet up with Ami in the first place.

Gojo stripped down to his boxers before sitting on the edge of her satin covered mattress. She was admiring him with amusement, the tempting smile on her lips telling him that she was also enjoying what she was seeing.

“You paid for a full hour but said that you might not be here for that long. Did something urgent come up?” she questioned, her voice sensually low and sending a shiver up Gojo’s spine.

My she is dangerous, he thought to himself, knowing full well how this entire experience would go under different circumstances.

The circumstances being, well, you.

“I don’t plan on sticking around too long...” he explained.

“I’ll have to adjust your pay accordingly then,” she replied, taking a few steps forward until she was standing in front of him.

“I don’t mind paying for the full hour,” Gojo teased with a grin, his free hand moving to touch her silky hair as he rubbed it between his fingers.

She smiled, nearly taking his breath away as she brought her finger to the blindfold covering his eyes.

“I don’t like accepting money for free,” she  stated, tracing her touch down his chiseled jawline. “I bet you’re handsome but I am guessing you don’t plan on taking this thing off to show me what you really look like.”

“Yep,” Gojo smiled as Ami proceeded to slide across her bed next to him. "And you guessed right, I’ve got an exceptionally pretty face.”

“Cocky too,” she purred, “there’s a special way I treat guys like you…”

Gojo hummed, switching his position so he was lying back against her pillows. Ami crawled her body over his lean torso, her hands rubbing up and down his thigh as she glanced in his direction.

“Oh, yeah? I would love to see how...” Gojo insisted, his breath growing heavy as she guided her hand all the way to his mouth.

She traced his bottom lip with her thumb, a devious mask highlighting her stunning features as she spoke, “Be a good boy and lie back while I take care of you…”

He fully caved, allowing this sultry siren to take control by touching and teasing his body however she pleased. Gojo usually enjoyed relinquishing his power every now and then but for whatever reason it was taking some effort for him to fully immerse himself with what was happening. Ami straddled his cock, before proceeding to press her mouth against his. Her lips were working fervently over his own as she deepened the kiss, but the spark that he needed just wasn’t igniting.

When Ami flicked her tongue over his, he would only think about the sensation of yours. The taste of you in his mouth lingered like an addictive poison. One that he craved every single time you crossed his mind. The sound of your moans played in his ear and the sweet way you called out his name when he touched you between your legs filtered his brain. He was only brought back to the reality that it wasn’t you pushing your body against his, when Ami wrapped her fingers around his throat. He tried to erase you and focus on the woman before him but was persistently failing.

She could see that something was off from how he was responding to her caresses. “Are you sure you're up for this tonight, baby?” Ami teased, whispering into his mouth as she snagged his bottom lip between her teeth. “You don’t seem ready for me...”

“Fuck…” Gojo grunted out of frustration, knocking his head back as he pressed his fingers to his temple. “It’s not you, I’m just distracted…”

“What’s on your mind?” she continued, stroking his broad chest lovingly to try and coax him out of the daze he was in.

“Not what...who…” he responded shyly, his cheeks blushing ever so slightly by his admittance.

“I see…” she cooed, “Wife? Girlfriend?”

Gojo scoffed, a comical laugh escaping him as he shook his head.

“Definitely not.”

Ami pressed her lips together, her nail doodling along his upper body with random figures as she continued to question her intriguing client.

“Tell me about her…”

Gojo froze, his hands digging into Ami’s thighs upon hearing her bold question, “she’s just a friend. There’s nothing to say...”

“Is she beautiful?”

“She’s gorgeous,” Gojo exhaled, his words passing his lips faster than he could process what he had just said. Ami tracked her hands down between her legs, stroking his boxers as she massaged his length.

“Tell me what she looks like…”

He described you in detail, from your sinfully sweet lips to the beautiful sound of your laughter and how soft your skin felt in his hands. She continued tricking him into revealing the intimate thoughts that swirled in his mind when he thought about you. She heard the way Gojo’s voice wavered as he swelled between her hands, the tip of his cock poking through his underwear as the pre-cum stained the material of his boxers. Ami pulled the clothing away from his hips, hands returning to grip his member as she continued stroking up and down his shaft.

“Do you think about fucking her with the other women you meet?”

“Yes,” Gojo revealed through gritted teeth, swallowing hard as she played with his tip by circling his thumb over the slit of his cock.

“How often?”

“Too often,” the sorcerer hissed, his hips bucking into her hands.

“I bet you wish you were fucking her right now, don’t you?”

She saw how turned on he is and how easily the thought of you brought him close to his release. Ami spread her legs, adjusting her stance until she brought the tip of his cock to her entrance. Gojo hesitated, knowing that he needed to stop what was about to happen. This wasn’t supposed to go this far. He was only here for a quick hand job or blowjob, but he couldn’t suppress a satisfied moan as she slid down to take in his length.

“F-fuck, wai-...”

“Shh, baby, close your eyes and think of your sweet angel…” Ami whispered in his ear, making Gojo roll his blue irises to the back of his head as he relaxed into her touch.

She didn’t speak after that, fulfilling her promise of taking care of him but also ensuring that his focus was solely on the mental image of you. The sound of her skin bouncing up and down his length took over the entire room. The way Ami stated that you were his was enough to send him over the edge and it didn’t take long until he climaxed at the thought, quickly pulling out of her and releasing hot ropes of cum all over her stomach but imagining that it was you the entire time. She immediately cleaned herself up after they finished, before giving Gojo some privacy and allowing him to get himself together.

After he got dressed, he pulled out his phone to transfer the payment. He doubled the amount he was supposed to give, totally aware that she didn’t reach her own release and was disappointed in himself that he couldn’t pleasure the remarkable temptress before him.

He slipped on his boots, his mind racing as the guilt rushed right through him. He hated that broke another rule, especially since this particular one was a boundary you set for your own comfort. He was angry at himself that he disrespected that and was annoyed for crossing the line in the first place.

What the fuck is wrong with me?, he thought to himself.

“I told you I don’t get paid for doing nothing. I don't accept money like that, not even from spoiled rich boys like you,” Ami stated, her words stung but she spoke in such a gentle tone that didn’t offend the sorcerer. She was leaning against the wall as she appeared before him, her body now covered with just a pink robe.

“You got me off but I did nothing to reciprocate. I tell all the other girls to charge double if that happens.”

“How considerate,” she mused before arching her brow in delight at him, “but for the sake of my own conscience I feel like I need to give you something in return…”

Gojo stood up from his seat, smoothing out his clothes before approaching her slowly. Even though he got what he wanted out of this arrangement, he was feeling worse about himself the longer he stayed in this room.

“How about a piece of advice before you leave and we can call it even?” Ami questioned.

“What is it?” the sorcerer wondered, hearing her feet patter against the carpet as she followed his footsteps to her front door.

She paused when she reached for the handle, before tilting her face and directing her full attention towards his covered eyes.

“Tell your friend how you feel or cut off whatever it is you’re doing. If you don’t tell her then you’re fucked, plain and simple.”

“Look, what happened just now doesn’t mean anything…”

She raised her fingers to his lips, stopping him from even attempting to defend what transpired.

“Don’t take this the wrong way but you’re easy to read. I have had clients come here trying to forget their lovers and those who come to see me because they can’t resist their own primative urges. I see the ones who are lonely, who only visit me for companionship and nothing more. Then there are the ones who are like you, who will bury themselves in any cunt they see just to pretend that they aren’t in love with somebody else…”

Gojo clenched his jaw, squeezing his hands together as the heat rose up to his face.

“You don't know what you're talking about. Besides, wanting to fuck somebody and being in love are two very different things.”

“True, except those two things are tangled up in one person when it comes to you…”

Gojo pressed his lips into a thin line, unsure as to why her accusation made him so irritated.

“Awww, don’t get angry, pretty boy. It’s unbecoming for somebody as handsome as you are…” Ami whispered, before kissing him on the cheek as she said her goodbye. “It’s okay, I promise that your secret is safe with me…”

*** 

CHAPTER 14: JEALOUSY

#Gojo Satoru #Gojo Satoru x female reader #Gojo Satoru x reader #gojo x female reader #Gojo Satoru x female reader #Gojo Satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanficiton #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[bleachhaven]

Congrats on 1500 followers😊😊😊 can I request NSFW headcanons/scenario of Shunsui coming home late and waking up his wife for sex💋 Thanks!!!

Yes please goddamn it! I love these request for everyone’s favorite Bleach husband!

I have many feels about this man and I intended to write headcanons but this turned into a scenario instead. So this turned out to be almost 1900 words. I clearly got carried away, and it is evident that I have thought about this scenario way too much. I won’t apologize for it. Shunsui seduced me by simply existing!

Kyouraku Shunsui comes home late to wake up his wife for some lovin’ (smut)

One would think that after 10 years of being the new Soutaicho, Shunsui would be able to come home at a decent time. He does have two, not just one, fuktaichos after all. But that’s not the case most of the time. The Soutaicho’s work is never really over and definitely never on a time that was convenient for him or the people in his life.

With both him and his wife being in the Gotei 13, their busy schedules almost always ensures that they keep missing each other even if they do indeed live in the same house.

Sure they’d carve out time to be with each other, plan elaborate date nights overlooking sunsets with extravagant picnics...but still his job did take its toll. Some nights they’d both be home at a relatively decent time but they would be far too exhausted to do anything other than take a quick shower and go to sleep.

Lately, it’s been busier than most. The new Taicho of the 13th Division was being finally appointed. Kuchiki Rukia was an exemplary candidate, and Shunsui had every faith that she would do right by the division that was once held by his beloved best friend, but the paperwork for the new appointment and subsequent transition was, to put it mildly, a pain in the ass.

Today had been hectic. His last responsibility had been to visit the 13th Division’s barracks and make sure all the finer details were finalized with Rukia. Sure, someone else could have done it and he would have passed it on to the nearest unsuspecting subordinate had it been any other division. But it wasn’t. It was the 13th and the 13th was always Juu’s. Shunsui had to do it himself. It was the right thing to do.

However, that hadn’t really gone well at all. 

The official business was, of course, successfully concluded. Nanao-chan had taken care of everything, and Rukia was not only ready but eager to take on her responsibilities starting tomorrow, after the official announcement at the Taichos’ meeting. 

Except, walking past the Ugendo, and being reminded that Jushiro wasn’t there...it had put him in quite the dark mood. This announcement meant an ending he really was not yet ready to face. The 13th would no longer be Juu’s. Just another reminder that his best friend was gone and never coming back. It was...just painful in a purely illogical and gut wrenching way.

He’d wandered the seireitei streets, hoping to lose the cloud over his mind so he didn’t take it back home to his unsuspecting wife, but it hadn’t helped much.

When he finally got home, she was fast asleep. Maybe that was for the best. If she had been awake, she would have definitely wanted to talk it out with him. She could sense his mood in an uncanny way. But Shunsui wasn’t in a mind to talk. Not tonight.

They weren’t the kind of couple to wear fancy nightclothes to bed. In fact, they both chose not to wear anything at all. Shunsui’s body anyway ran quite warm and clothes would feel suffocating, so he slept fully nude. When he first met his wife, she loved her cute pyjamas and sexy négligée. Of course he couldn’t resist her in them. But after a while, he succeeded in convincing her the benefits of sleeping nude. Now, he knew, she wore nothing but panties under the covers.

He quickly took a shower to wash away the day’s grime and dried himself before dropping the towel on the floor. His wife would have his head for him leaving it there but...he had a lot on his mind tonight. 

He slowly walked up to the bed and stood there for a moment looking down at her. She looked so peaceful as she slept. No concerns furrowed her brows, and her lashes rested upon her smooth cheeks. She was sleeping on her side, facing the side on which Shunsui slept, her hand reaching out as if she meant to hold him. As if she yearned for him in his absence. 

The sheets were bunched up, barely covering her. One shapely calf teased him, inviting to be touched. He had no intentions of  resisting he temptation. He slowly ran his hand up her calf, feeling the smoothness and the firmness of her leg all the way up to her knee. He kept moving upward, lifting the sheet as he went, to rest his hand on her thigh.

She stirred a bit, and twisted away to lie flat upon her back. He quickly retracted his hand. He didn’t want to wake her. Not yet anyway.

When she moved, the sheet moved with her, unwrapping her like she was his favorite candy ready to be devoured. Her curves in all their glory were bared to his eye.

Her nipples were already pebbling, teased by the cold air in the room. He aided the task by moving his index finger up over her abdomen, his touch so slow and feather light. He flicked a nipple and watched it stand upright as if begging for his mouth.

His mind made up, he climbed up on the bed. He took his time, unrestrained by anything demanding upon him. Tonight, even his wife couldn’t distract him by trying to pleasure him. Instead, he got to explore her body as he wished to do so.

He moved over her delicate neck, the back of his hand caressing the soft skin there. Usually, whenever they made love, he worshipped her body as if it’s the only religion he’d ever known. But tonight, his mood was different. Tonight, he wanted to devour her, not delicately or lovingly, but with a passion that would consume them like an inferno. It was already burning him inside, this desperate need to take her, and take her hard. Tonight he wanted to sacrifice them both at the altar of his darkest desires.

Almost as if she could sense his thoughts, her eyes opened to look up at him, a bit confused and still half asleep. “Shunsui?”

“Shh...” he hushed her.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice still husky with sleep. There it is again...that uncanny ability to read him like an open book.

He stared into her eyes, and she easily read his intentions. “I don’t want to talk about it, love,” he told her. “I just...want you.”

She didn’t say anything more. She simply held out her arms to pull him into her embrace. He fell into her, perhaps even crushing her, his body settling right between her spread thighs.

Their kiss was almost fervent with need. At least that’s what it felt like for him. No gentle romancing tonight. No soft seductive kisses or delicate nibbles. His mouth devoured hers, teeth biting into her full bottom lip. The wiry hair on his chest rubbed tantalizingly against her breasts. They both marveled at the contrast -soft curves against hard planes, smooth skin against the roughness. 

One hand wound up in her hair at the back of her head, holding her still as he took what he needed from her. The other hand moved between their bodies to reach down and find that his earlier ministrations as she slept had her wet and ready for him.

“I don’t think I can wait, petal,” he whispered, scraping his teeth across her jaw. His hardness pressed against her soft thigh told her as much anyway.

She reached up and sunk her hands into his hair, undoing the ties. The pull on his scalp was painful but strangely arousing. Her gaze bore into his, and it drove him insane to see the same intense desire reflected back at him. “I’m not asking you to wait, Shunsui. Fuck me. Now.”

With well practiced rhythm, he buried himself in one thrust. Face to face, pressed up close like this, he could see her eyes close shut, and her teeth bite that lip as he stretched her. A bit of pain mixed with pleasure. It amazed him how even after all this time, that first slide into her wet heat could still feel like the first time he was ever inside of her. It had him ready to burst in no time already, and he hadn’t even moved yet.

“Love, I don’t think I can go slow tonight,” he said, apologetic that he might not be able to make it good for her like he was wont to do.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, taking him even deeper if possible. “I didn’t ask you to, did I? Just fuck me already, Shun,” she said, biting his ear playfully. His wife was a sassy little thing that drove him crazy sometimes.

With one hand resting by the side of her head for leverage, he held on to her hip with the other as he began to move. Considering how much bigger he was compared to her, he had to hunch a bit, but this was his absolute favorite position. He felt close to her in every possible way and he got to see just how she looked when she came apart for him. 

As he moved over her, thrusting deep, her moans filled their room, like music to his ears. “Yes...god, yes. Just like that...” His wife loved to let him know just how well he was doing at pleasing her.

His thrusts became faster and harder. He was so close. So close that he was afraid he might cum before her, which he had never done in their entire marriage. But she was right there with him, taking his desires into her lithe little body as if she was made for him. The harder he went, the more she took it, finally until they both burst into pieces...his tension easing away as the intensity of the orgasm eased in.

They were both gasping by the end of it, trying to catch their breath. It has been a long time since they went at each other like this - intense and fast. A definite contrast to their slow, sensual lovemaking.

He realized his hand was still holding tight to her hip. He let go and reached up to cup her face. “Did I hurt you?”

“Mmmm...I don’t think so,” she moaned, stretching a bit, the movement hardening him all over again. Her eyes widened in surprise at his non-existent refraction period. “Again? Really?”

He grinned lecherously down at her. “I can’t help it when I have such a sexy little wife, now can I?” he asked teasingly. Playfulness was always a good distraction, and he wanted her distracted enough that she wouldn’t question him about the reason why he had woken her up in the first place.

By the time they were finally done with round two, the exhaustion of the day caught up with Shunsui, and he was out like a light, cradling his wife. The last thing he thought was how lucky he was that he had someone who truly understood him and what he needed.

She gazed down at his sleeping form with a sad smile. She knew her husband was troubled, and it was clearly evident that he was not willing to talk about it. After all, you weren’t with someone for years and years without learning to read everything they did and didn’t say. And with Shunsui, it was always the things he didn’t say or hid behind a playful seductive remark that revealed more.

She wouldn’t press him. Not until he was ready to tell her, which she knew with experience would happen sooner than later. So she pressed a soft kiss to his stubbly cheek, and settled down next to him. His arms unconsciously wrapped around her, cradling her in his body heat. It was always easier to fall asleep when he was next to her, so that’s just what she did.

__

Written for the

✨ 1500 Followers Celebration ✨

…and requests for this are officially now closed.

__

Thank you to everyone who sent in their requests! I had a blast writing them ALL. This blog is officially at 1600!! 

We shall have another celebration at the 2000 milestone :)

—

Normal Ask Box is open for requests so send in your Bleach fantasies today!

Or check out more of my work through the Masterlist here!

#kyouraku shunsui #shunsui kyouraku #shunsui x reader #smut #bleach headcanons #bleach imagines #bleach #1500 followers celebration

[wthtorke]

Cultural Differences

One shot commission for @scallopedsuitcase ! Thank you! 

You didn’t know what to do anymore.

When you heard that the Yautja-Human peace treaty was finally up and running and that not only that meant everyone was safe and sound but also that the galaxy’s greatest and sexiest species was to roam free within your planet. You were proudly part of a small community that wasn’t opposed to...engaging-, with such creatures.

It didn’t take long for you to find your Yautja of interest. He was tall. Taller than any other partner you ever had before. That alone did things to you. Their ships had taken residency in whatever forests seemed best to them. You’d never thanked the skies more for living right outside a reserve in your life. 

The first thing you checked was his wrist from afar. To make things easier for everyone while they sorted out yautja translators for humans, yautjas interested in human contact wore different colored lights on their wrist gauntlets. Some of the colors were; red for ‘No Contact’, yellow for ‘formal contact only’, blue for ‘Friendly contact’, and purple for ‘Accepting of human advances’.

Now, while the term was awkward at best, but you were the happiest human on earth when your crush showed up on your street with that purplish wrist gauntlet. it’s lights dancing, glowing brighter and then darker again in an endless cycle.

He was everything you’ve ever dreamed of physically and after some time observing and building up your courage-, you found that his personality was just as much endearing as his physique. 

You’d taken to hiking, something you didn’t exactly have the habit of doing, all in hopes of spotting him by his ship, and so you did. So, there began your mission. While you didn’t have a translator on your person, there was one language that was known to all the galaxy.

Flirting.

Flirting was supposed to be exciting, charming, and well, what better way to let someone know you were totally into them, right? Surely, some winks and gestures here and there would pass him the message loud and clear.

2 weeks in of hiking and you could feel your muscles hardening up. The way your body responded to this new routine spoke volumes of your previous sedentary ways, never really having a reason to leave the house if it wasn’t for work or well, buying what you needed. So far, however, your flirting had brought you no results. The times you could make out his expressions when he saw you were...not pleasing. He looked...confused, at best. 

So, you sat at home on a particularly cold night, holding a warm mug of hot chocolate to keep the shivers at bay, wondering what could you possibly be doing wrong. You bit your lip, winked, wore your best clothes, and still, nothing. It was frustrating.

You checked on your translator order situation, refreshing the page now and then as you knew they were updated at night. When the peace treaty was first announced and the ‘requesting’ system was up, you hurried to place your order. The translator wasn’t cheap, and it would only be one of the very prototypes, meaning it wouldn’t be able to translate everything at once so fluidly, but at least you’d be able to communicate faster before most of the people could, and that alone made you very happy, it was exhilarating. 

The translator had been ‘In Confection’ for months now, finally coming around the expected date of postage as your page told you. 

Another hour went by before you refreshed it again, the yellow dot becoming green with the text you had been waiting for underneath it. 

“In Transit.”

Finally.

With newfound excitement and determination, you pulled up the weather report for tomorrow’s morning and afternoon, sighing as you thought of your Yautja crush yet again.

The next morning came as fast as your head hit the pillow as you jumped up and out of the bed, ready to start your day with your morning jog, hoping to see him either on the way up or down the trail. Teeth brushed, hair tied up, and a water bottle filled, you made your way out the door, feeling the chilly morning air fill your lungs, wiping away the last remains of sleep from your body.

While jogging, you fell in thought. 

The translator wouldn’t take more than 3 days to arrive. In little time you’d be able to communicate with him...but what if he didn’t like you? 

Your jogging slowed down to a walk as this hit you hard in the head.

What if he had already rejected you and you didn’t catch it? You thought about it further and so came the odd looks he gave you, the puzzled stares, and more. You made your efforts well known and well shown as well, and he didn’t growl or try to move away, so it couldn’t have been that bad, right?

You looked at your feet as you walked, lost in those thoughts as you hit something hard, making you stumble back a couple of steps. You looked back up in surprise only to find out it wasn’t something but someone.

“Oh, hi! Sorry, I um, I didn’t see you,” You said, doing your best to gesture to him, and then your eyes, trying to tell him what you said.

As always, he stood there for a second, slowly nodding afterward. He tilted his head to the side a bit, getting a little closer to your person as if inspecting your face. His tusks were close to your face, so close you thought he was going to kiss you. Or well, try to, given he didn’t have lips.

“I-,” was all you managed to get out before he stepped back, shaking his head slightly before reaching behind his back, where his pouch usually was. Hands coming forward again, he extended his arm, opening his palm to present you with something.

You gasped at the notion of receiving a gift from him, this could only mean courtship, right?

Looking down at his hand, you were more than confused to see a very human-made looking pill bottle. “What?” You said, picking it up from his hand.

‘Melatonin. Sleep aid.’

“Sleep aid?” You questioned, looking back up at him, “Are you saying I look tired?!” You said, shaking the pill bottle towards him, the yautja raising his hands a bit, the universal sign for ‘hey calm down’.

But what could this possibly mean?

“I tried so hard! And you say I took tired? I’ve been coming here every day to see you! You-!” You sighed, shoulders slacking a bit after your outburst. “Okay, okay. You know what? Fuck-, I get it, I’ll let you be,” You said, turning right back around, deciding to end your exercise right there when the biggest hand you ever felt closed around your arm, making you look back again.

You had heard the Yautja language before, but hearing it live was just as foreign. He was speaking fast, the clicks and guttural growls making absolutely no sense to you.

He still, somehow, managed to look confused while speaking such a harsh tongue.

“I don’t understand!” You exasperated, yanking your arm free and sighing again. You put your hand up, “Wait.” you said. 

He looked at your hand, which accompanied with the word made something light up in his face as he nodded this time. “Good, I’ll um, see you later,” You said, waving and making the rest of your way back to your house.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it. Sitting on your couch while staring at the pill bottle on the table. It was what it was, you supposed. It was truly melatonin. 

But what did he mean with it? Did he want you to sleep well? Why did he think you weren’t getting enough sleep?

“Where did he even get this?!”

The pill bottle was sealed still, just like the ones you’d buy at the drug store. Could you imagine? A Yautja walking in a drug store and purchasing melatonin? If you told that to someone, they’d think you were crazy, even with the whole peace treaty going on.

Another day went by and you didn’t go jogging anymore, afraid your ‘relationship’ could turn sour if you saw him again without your translator. Still, the pill bottle haunted you, sitting in the exact place on your table.

On the second morning after your disastrous encounter, the doorbell rang. And you knew exactly what it was for. Sprinting for the door, the mailman was different, clearly a private company worker, holding your package with both his hands, looking around as he waited for you to come up.

Package picked up, opened, and fiddled with. After 15 minutes, you sat in your living room muttering words into your translator, watching as it came to life, making some odd sounds in what you knew was the yautja language.

Now you could go talk to him, for real.

Picking up the pill bottle from the table, you sprinted up the trail again, regretting not bringing your water bottle as you reached the place where you last saw him, panting and a little red in the face.

You looked back up when you heard soft purring, a sound you hadn’t heard before but wished dearly to.

‘It means affection’ you recalled reading once from the article the first human to mate a yautja wrote, ‘Fondness’.

You straightened yourself, clearing your throat before looking up at him, “Um, hi, I- ah fuck,” you fiddled some more, producing your translator from your pocket, getting a curious look from the yautja before you.

“I hope this works” you muttered before lifting the device closer to your mouth and taking a deep breath. “Hi, I hope this translates what I’m saying decently, now, I’d please like to know what did you mean with this?” You said into it, waiting a second before it started its clicking noises.

The Yautja’s expression changed instantly, his eyes widening as he leaned forward to the sound of his language. He squinted as he kept listening, making you blush in embarrassment. God, was the translator that bad?

Upon hearing the last of the clicking, you lifted the pill bottle to him for emphasis, waiting for him to react.

He stood up straight again, eyeing the bottle he gave you a few days prior, still unopened. He extended his hand, shaking his head when you offered him the bottle, pointing instead to the translator in your other hand. “Oh, of course!” You handed it to him, watching as he had a look at the digital screen, apparently switching its mode from ‘Human to Yautja’ to ‘Yautja to Human’ seeing as the translator worked with just about every human language around the world.

Satisfied with the settings, he started speaking into it himself, gesturing to the pill bottle while he did so and then, to your surprise, to your face. This made you gasp a bit, your mind jumping to the worst conclusions possible. Did he think you were ugly? Well, you’d have to wait and see.

As he finished speaking, you both gave the translator a couple of seconds when a male voice spoke up, making you jump a bit, hands shaking in anticipation. “Hello. I thought you were sick. Whenever we had an encounter, you would make these strange expressions. I searched for them, the results were that what could be possibly making you have these...tics, was lack of sleep. The excessive blinking, biting your lips, involuntary facial pulling, all are the result of sleepless nights, excessive exhaustion, and the medicine for that is...that, for humans anyway.”

“WHAT?!” You yelled, snatching the translator back from his hand as he stared at you with yet another confused expression. “I was flirting with you! Flirting! I’m not sick!” You said, holding out the translator as it did its thing.

Confusion melting away into realization, he spoke again, not bothering to hold the translator but simply stepping closer to you.

“You were trying to court me?”

“Yes! I was winking at you! It’s a human thing!” You said, then realizing your mistake, “Oh...human thing...Ah fuck” You covered your face in embarrassment, “God, that’s why you always looked at me like that, I-”

“Would you still like to...court me?”

“Yes!” You said, head jerking up again so fast the yautja before you flinched a bit. “I-, yes.” You cleared your throat, a hard blush creeping its way across your face again.

“Good, it was my plan to court you too...after you had healed of your...sickness.” He said, chuckling, “Which apparently was no sickness at all.” He cleared as you squinted at him, “Well, I’m Yeyinde.” He said, “I’m glad we can finally communicate, always wanted to ask you a few things.”

You smiled, feeling that blush coming back again, “How about we go on a walk? Then we can talk about anything you want” You said, holding out your free hand for him to take.

“Of course,” He rumbled, massive hand closing gently around yours as you started walking up the rest of the trail.

#yautja #Yautjas #yautja x reader #predator #predators #The Predator #yautja x human #human/yautja #yautja/human #Headcanon #commission #Kofi #Alien #alien relationship #courting #alien courtship

[bubble-tea-bunny]

come fly with me

[hermes x reader]

author’s note: every time i see his name i pronounce it like the brand out of  habit even if there’s no accent grave lol

word count: 2,572

You sense the bright light of morning through your closed lids and it prompts you to wake. But even as your eyes slide open, you still feel as though you’re dreaming.

A man is kneeling down next to you. You don’t know who he is but perceive he means no harm, for his gaze as he observes you is concerned, no doubt wondering what you’re doing out here. You don’t remember falling asleep outside, but the weather has been so nice as of late, you wouldn’t put it past yourself to have drifted off after laying beneath the stars, simply appreciating their magnificence.

As your vision comes more into focus, and the blurred edges merge into finer lines, you note that the sun shines behind this stranger’s head, and it appears remarkably like a halo. Your focus slides lower, drifts over brown hair pulled back into a neat braid to avoid obscuring his face, the highlight of which are his eyes—brilliantly blue, like crystals, and putting the backdrop behind him to shame. He’s beautiful.

Suddenly you’re nervous to be the center of his attention, so rapt it’s like he can see right through you. You must look a disheveled mess in contrast, your own hair tousled, your eyes bleary with the last bits of sleep. But as if he can hear your thoughts, he smiles gently, a gesture to put you at ease.

“Hello,” he greets you. His voice is hushed, taking care not to disturb the peace of these early hours, and it’s warm, washing over your skin and fighting away the chill of the cool evening.

You open your mouth, poised to speak, but at first nothing comes out, though from nervousness or from the fact your vocal chords are still waking up after hours of not being used, you don’t know.

“I… I must have fallen asleep out here,” you state rather dumbly, because what else could it have been? It’s not as if anyone had carried you out here in the middle of the night. Your cheeks redden from embarrassment but the man’s smile widens, amused and—if you aren’t imagining things, owed to the idea that maybe you really are dreaming—charmed. Though for what reason, you haven’t the slightest clue.  You struggle to call yourself a picture of grace at any other point in a day, least of all fresh from sleep.

“It seems you have,” he responds. “I imagine it was comfortable?”

Not wanting to continue this conversation while still laying down, since it’s a little awkward, you sit up, and he backs away slightly to give you space. The notion of sleeping on the ground certainly doesn’t sound comfortable, and so you assume he asks this in light jest, but oddly enough, you don’t feel any stiffness or aches. Your body is relaxed, pliant. You feel well-rested.

“It was, yes…” you trail off, absentmindedly pondering on this anomaly.

The man nods, satisfied with your answer, and stands. You have to crane your neck to look at him, and as he turns his head to look out at the rolling hills, lush green and divided in the middle by a dirt path, you see a string around his neck which is attached to a golden helmet. The brim swoops and lifts in the back, colored silver to resemble a pair of wings.

Then he turns to you again, now offering you his hand. “Well the day is too nice to waste staying here. Would you like to take a walk with me?”

You’ve been aware this entire time that you don’t know who he is, and logic would dictate you turn down his invitation. No matter how nice he may be, it would be unreasonable as well as  unsafe. But even for all that, you find yourself not tied down by any semblance of reason, and perhaps it’s against your better judgment that you accept.

You take his hand and he pulls you up easily. Maybe it’s his smile that does well to quell any apprehension, for you think you would follow him anywhere. Maybe you were incorrect and to go with him now was the better judgment on your part, because you don’t feel that this is wrong or dangerous. And he’s right: the day is splendid and it would make no sense to stay on the ground alone. It’s better enjoyed with companions.

The two of you follow the trail for a while, pausing whenever small creatures cross from one side to the other: mostly bunnies and deer, but at one point when passing by a lake there’s a duck and her ducklings plodding single-file behind her. As the world around you wakes and you walk in comfortable silence, your anxiety melts away and you instigate a conversation.

“Were you just passing by and happened to see me?” you inquire.

The man glances down at you briefly before looking ahead once more. “I was.” He nods. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He’s sincere as he says it, and it makes you grin. “Well I’m glad it was you who found me.”

The smile on his lips mirrors yours. “I am too.”

Flowers line the path, leaning inward as if to welcome any who walk past. They grab your attention, and you skip ahead to pick some of them. They only require a gentle tug for the stems to snap and you gather them until you’re holding a small bunch of the white flower in one hand. You bring them closer to your face so you can smell them: the scent is subtle and fresh, like the air after it rains. The man finally catches up to you and you twist around. There’s that expression in his eyes again, one of amusement, and again you blush, attempting to hide it by the flowers as you duck your head, but you don’t think you’re successful.

He peers over your shoulder. “Let’s go this way now. There’s bound to be more flowers in that direction.”

You turn and follow his line of sight. The trail has led to a forest, and veering off here would lead you into the thick of it. The man takes the last few steps to close the distance and stand next to you, and you look up at him. “Okay.”

Sunlight pierces the gaps in the foliage, the rays which light the ground soothing to behold and to walk through. It’s like a painting, calm and peaceful, displayed on the finest marble and you’re honored to be in the midst of it, maybe not as the subject, for you think the birds who cast shadows as they soar above you are more worthy of the privilege, but you’re content to be there at all, even just off to the side.

The woods lead to a meadow and the man was correct: there are more flowers here. Their colors vary, from white to lavender to yellow, and the sun envelopes them all in its heat, unhindered in this clearing. The tall grass shifts with your every footstep and brushes your calves, light as a feather, and you giggle. It tickles.

Your eyes rove over the expanse before you. There are more trees, another portion of forest,  on the other side, but this place is so peaceful, and the sun is in the perfect position, centered in the sky, that you would hate to leave so soon.

“I’d like to lay among these flowers…” you murmur. It’s an aside you mean to mutter only to yourself, but given your proximity to the stranger—no, not a stranger anymore, but more of a friend—he hears you fine despite the low volume with which you said it.

“Why don’t we?”

At this, you blink and glance up at him. He’s already watching you with a twinkle in his gaze and he’s smiling. You can’t help smiling too and you feel so warm to be in his presence.

So in the middle of the clearing you find a suitable spot and settle down, lying on your back with the bunch of white flowers still clutched in one hand. You have to squint and use your free hand to shield your eyes from the glare of the sun, but then you close them and the furrow of your brow relaxes, and you can fully enjoy the nature which surrounds you.

Dragonflies buzz and you can hear them flittering along, the beating of their wings louder as they approach, then becoming quieter as they pass. The grass shifts as your friend comes to join you now. He sits, and you hear a brief shuffling before he follows suit and lays down. Together you bask in the sunlight, but for how long, you aren’t sure. Not that you’re interested in tracking the time.

“Your suggestion to tarry a while was a good one,” he compliments, breaking the silence. “It feels pleasant to rest here.”

His compliment makes you grin and your eyes open. You turn your head to look at him. He’d removed his helmet from where it was hanging around his neck and placed it next to him to allow him to lie back comfortably. “The sun makes you feel so refreshed, doesn’t it?”

He hums. “I think it has more to do with the company.” He opens his eyes and also turns to look at you, and the blueness of them is incredibly soft. Your smile grows.

And though you’re confident you could pass the rest of the day in that meadow, the two of you move on. It’s done with a bit of reluctance on your part, but it fades quickly because you agree with him: it’s the company which makes you feel refreshed. The colors of the sky are shifting as mid-afternoon turns into early evening and it occurs to you that you have been walking since the morning yet you aren’t tired, nor has it felt like many hours have transpired. You know it has to do with him. You think you could do this forever, walking with him.

When the sky is a blend of indigo and orange, you ask if anyone is expecting him. We’ve been together all day, you explain. No one might wonder where you are?

He chuckles. “That’s kind of you to be concerned.”

Your cheeks feel warm. He’s awfully good at getting that reaction out of you.

“No one’s expecting me,” he continues. “But even if someone were, they’d understand my lateness, given I’m with someone so sweet. I’m not keen to part ways too soon.”

Your chest feels tight, like your heart is wrenching and you’re scared it might break. “Me neither,” you state shyly.

Then gradually the indigos and oranges transition to black as the sun fully disappears below  the horizon and you are sad to see it leave. You’ve also long since left the meadow and the forest surrounding it behind. The land you walk through is wide, flat, empty. There aren’t any plants or animals and it feels foreign, adjusted as you had been to the lush scenery of this afternoon. The only feature worth noting are the mountains that come into view now, which, while you’d already assumed them to be tall, are taller than you first thought as you get closer, so high they seem to touch the clouds, perhaps even extending past them.

“This way.” The man’s voice pulls your attention away from staring up at the clouds. There’s a path that leads farther into the mountain. “Watch your step. It’s rather dark.”

What light of the moon reaches through small gaps in the mountain reflects off the helmet strung around his neck. He takes care to move slowly to ensure you don’t lose him but the glint of his helmet serves as a beacon. The more you venture in, you wonder where you’re going. Should you ask him? The idea of doing so hadn’t crossed your mind all day because you’d been happy just to be with him, no apprehension about the destination, or whether or not  there was one. But now…

The words are on the tip of your tongue, about to be voiced, but they die out once you turn a final corner and spot a river. The water is dark, almost black, and a haze settles above it that obscures what might possibly be on the opposite shore. Once you do speak, it’s still a question, but it’s no longer about where the two of you are headed. He doesn’t need to tell you that.

“Wanted to let me down gently, didn’t you?” The manner in which you ask this is quiet, lightly teasing but also laced with a sadness you do little to hide.

Hermes—for now you know confidently who he is—leads you right to the edge of the water and then stops, twisting around. “I chose to take the longer route with you.”

You meet his gaze. His eyes are sorrowful, yet for their melancholy they are still just as beautiful, and they’re tender as he looks at you. “Why?”

He takes a deep breath, momentarily glancing at the water then returning his focus to you. “You hadn’t realized what happened, and I didn’t want to tell you. I decided we would venture through the nature you love so much, taking breaks where you desired, to listen to the bugs and to feel the sun.”

Thinking back to this morning, you recall that when you’d woken up, you hadn’t checked behind you. If you had, you would’ve noticed your body there. You’d been too enamored by Hermes to do that. Though you suppose there are worse ways of being led to the Underworld, and you’d always be grateful to Hermes for choosing to take the long way.

“Through it I’ve grown very fond of you,” he confesses. He offers a small smile, and you surmise it’s a struggle, at odds with a frown because of where he has brought you, and what it implies. “A day with you was a lifetime, and it still didn’t feel long enough.”

You muster a smile of your own. “One day or an eternity, I don’t suppose any length of time ever would.”

A boat comes into view, appearing to materialize through the fog, and once it stops at the small dock, the front bumping gently and the water lapping against the support beams, Hermes gives the ferryman two coins. Treat her well, he instructs. And then he turns to you a final time, and when your heart squeezes, you really think it has broken.

Glancing down, your eyes settle on the flowers you’re gripping. You’d kept them with you the entire journey. But now you hold them out to Hermes, and the heaviness in your chest seems to lighten slightly as he takes them and the expression on his face becomes a little less crestfallen. You would hate to leave him in such a forlorn state.

“Thank you, Hermes.” You hope he can detect the sincerity, and when he smiles faintly, you know that he has.

He helps you onto the boat, clasping your much smaller hand in his to provide support, and he stands on the shore as the ferryman pushes away, watching you until the fog engulfs the boat once more. And though he’s alone, the flowers in his hand make him feel far from lonely.

#hermes x reader #hermes imagine #blood of zeus x reader #blood of zeus imagine #blood of zeus #hermes #bubble-tea-bunny #queue

[little-mad]

A Seat at the Table Pt. 1

~ Prologue Story ~

~ Part 2 ~

Guess who's baaack? Yup, it's Gavin and Rael, ready for another lil adventure. This one is gonna be shorter than Downsides of Thievery, but I have several little pieces planned for this universe so don't worry, these lads aren't going anywhere.

Gavin just wanted to sleep in. Considering he had been...let’s say “self employed” ever since graduating high school, he was unaccustomed to being dragged out of bed at an unholy hour. The past two mornings had been the same way, but somehow he’d managed to scrape himself out of bed. This time however, his body seemed to be holding a protest.

“You need to get up,” a familiar voice called, the same voice that had already urged Gavin awake a couple minutes ago.

The only response Gavin offered was burying his head deeper into the stunningly plush handkerchief that served as his makeshift sheets.

There was a pause, then suddenly he felt a gust of warm air roll over his back. “If you don’t get up on your own, I’m going to have to make you,” the voice was much closer now, in fact it sounded as though the speaker was only a few inches above Gavin. A shiver ran across his spine, but still his tired brain refused to signal any action from the body. The only thing he did manage to do was shoot back an irritable groan.

The hot breath remained for a moment before disappearing. “Good, maybe he’s leaving me alo--” The blanket that had been protecting Gavin from the early morning chill was suddenly ripped away. Before he could even let out a complaint, a firm pressure took hold of either side of his waist.

A less than dignified yelp slipped out of Gavin’s mouth as he was effortlessly snatched out of his bed and lifted up into the air. He didn’t need to turn around to know what had happened, even in his groggy state he could put together the pieces. “What the hell, dude?!” he yelled as he squirmed angrily.

“You can’t say I didn’t warn you,” came Rael’s response as he rotated Gavin around so he was now dangling facing towards him.

Unlike Gavin, the teal-eyed alteon looked perfectly content being up at the asscrack of dawn. He was already dressed in his uniform, and his long black hair was neatly tied back in its usual style. He looked down at Gavin with an amused smirk on his lips, as well as a mischievous glint in his eyes that Gavin couldn’t help but feel responsible for encouraging.

Gavin scowled. “Put me down, Rael,” he ordered with as much authority as an action figure sized person could muster.

Rael’s grin widened, making him look alarmingly like the cat that ate the proverbial canary. “If you insist.” A sharp gasp got caught in Gavin’s throat as the hand holding him abruptly lurched into motion. The last thing he saw was a swath of tan before he was unceremoniously plopped down on the unidentified surface.

Scrambling to his feet, Gavin whipped around to try and make sense of where he’d been placed. It only took a moment before he realized, and when he did his face instantly began to flush red. “I didn’t mean on your lap!” he hissed, his cheeks now a bright red color as a result of being deposited on Rael’s left thigh.

There were several places that Gavin didn’t much like to be due to the fact that being there made him feel like a giant’s pet. On Rael’s lap was a big one. Other ones included being cradled in hands or set on a chest--which Rael had actually done the other day without seeming to realize how embarrassing it would be for the human.

Rael gave a small snicker, something that a couple days ago would have sounded foreign coming from the Imperial Guardsman. “Consider it punishment for not getting up the first, or second time I told you to,” he remarked, looking down at Gavin with unconcealed mirth.

Rather than try to argue, Gavin just glared up at his...mentor? Was that the right word? Parole officer was the closest thing he could think of that fit properly, but it didn’t really fit in with the medieval vibe of the alteon dimension. “Master” was maybe a better term, but Gavin would be damned if he ever referred to Rael as “master.”

Thankfully Gavin didn’t have to suffer in Rael’s lap for long, because a moment later the giant reached down and carefully scooped the human back up.

It was hard to believe how much less skittish Gavin had become about being around Rael’s hands. Over the past couple days they’d made a surprising amount of progress. That wasn’t to say Gavin’s heart rate didn’t pick up every time those oversized appendages came near him, but at least he didn’t have the urge to run for the hills anymore.

Gavin was only in transit for a short moment before being deposited back on the bedside table where his improvised bed resided. Until the palace craftsmen completed the miniature furniture set that the Emperor had commissioned, Rael had provided Gavin with a small wooden crate filled with fabric to sleep in.

Atop the table was also a small pile of clothes. The gray jumpsuit he’d arrived in the alteon dimension in was folded up neatly after having been washed for him. There were also several sets of simple garments that had apparently been painstakingly sewn by giant fingers. The work was certainly impressive, and apparently Gavin could expect even more intricate articles in the future.

“I’m going to get breakfast,” Rael announced, already making his way towards the door. “You’d better be dressed by the time I get back.” He glanced over his shoulder to shoot a warning glare back at Gavin, however the edge was taken off by the slight smile on the man’s lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” the human replied, waving a dismissive hand.

As soon as the alteon was out the door, Gavin let out a low sigh. “He still doesn’t think I can handle eating in the dining hall,” he muttered to himself as he went about getting dressed.

Ever since Gavin had started out as Rael’s assistant, Rael had insisted upon bringing their meals back to the room rather than joining the rest of the members of the Imperial Guard. At first, Gavin had been grateful. After the Ashryn incident, he had no desire to interact with any more soldiers. However, on the second day he’d begun to wonder why exactly Rael seemed so adamant about it. When he had posed the question to the alteon, he had simply responded with “it’s easier this way.”

Despite what many of the people in Gavin’s life might say, he wasn’t stupid. He knew each and every alteon was a potential danger to him. But everyone in the dining hall would be soldiers--soldiers who were bound by the Emperor’s order that Gavin be protected. Surely he would be perfectly safe there?

“I can’t spend this whole year hiding,” he grumbled. Tying the laces of his sneakers was the final touch on his outfit for the day. The human-sized shoes that were being crafted for him by a cobbler would take some time. He’d wondered why, if alteons had magic, they couldn’t just conjure a pair of shoes. But according to Rael, it didn’t work like that.

Either way, until the shoes were completed, he’d have to stick with the ones he’d arrived in the dimension with. They clashed pretty terribly with the loose fitting cotton tunic and fitted brown trousers, but looking fashionable had fallen pretty low on his list of priorities ever since he got arrested.

With no mirror around, Gavin could only hazard a guess as to what he looked like. He ran his fingers through his frequently disobedient brown locks. He felt pretty confident that his hair was a mess, aside from the fact that it pretty much always was, it had also dried uncombed after bathing the previous night.

Rael had taken Gavin to a massive stone basin to bathe in, and the experience was positively magical for the human. While the basin was intended for washing hands, at Gavin’s size the thing was almost like a small swimming pool! The water had been wonderfully warm and filled with lavender scented bubbles. It had been just the thing Gavin needed to unwind after the whirlwind past couple days he’d endured.

“They have the sausages you like again,” Rael announced as he pushed open the door, balancing an enormous tray of food on one hand.

“So you’re not letting me eat at the big kid table again, huh?” Gavin questioned, ignoring the sausage comment despite the fact that he did in fact like them quite a bit.

A stiff look came across Rael’s face as he snapped the door shut behind him. He said nothing at first, remaining silent as he took a seat on his bed with the food tray on his lap. Gavin began to think the guy wasn’t even going to bother responding until finally, “There’s nothing to gain from doing so.”

Gavin folded his arms over his chest, stepping closer to the edge of the bedside table closest to Rael. He hated when he took on that tone. It was the same tone he’d constantly used when they had first met. Gavin had started to think it was dead and gone, but clearly not.

“There’s nothing to gain from staying in here,” he countered.

Rael pressed his lips tightly together, as if there was something he wanted to say but also didn’t want to at the same time. Finally he blew out a long sigh. “I’ll think about it,” was all he said.

His tone wasn’t exactly promising, but Gavin didn’t want to pick a fight so early in the morning. His brain wasn’t full awake yet so any argument he got into, he’d no doubt lose. So for the time being, he let it go.

#i'm posting this at an absolutely terrible time #but oh well #maybe my fellow night owls will appreciate it #idk how many parts this will be for sure #I feel like I don't handle ocs the way most people do #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael #I could say this is a 600 followers celebration #but I was gonna post it anyways lol

[writethelifeyouwant]

Femme Fatale - Ch 2 / 2

Pairing: Alex x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: Sub!Alex, Domme!Reader, pegging, blow job on a dildo, praise kink, bondage, cock bondage, spreader bar, dirty talk about exhibitionism, degradation Word Count: 3.2k Created for: @spnkinkbingo - Praise Kink | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Blindfolds

A/N: Thank you so much for being my first ever commission Sin! I've had a lot of fun tackling this challenge because I've never written a Domme!reader before but I really appreciate you trusting me with your idea, and I hope I do it justice ❤️

Series Masterlist

Alex has been waiting so patiently. Since he and Y/N had gone to Femme Fatale a few weeks ago, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about everything he saw there. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what he saw Jared doing – or more accurately, what he saw being done to Jared.

Seeing Jared submit so publicly to all those people had been mesmerising; Jensen watching on proudly from the sidelines, offering Jared encouragement and praise when Jared finally couldn’t take it any longer and asked permission to cum. Jared had spurted into Jensen’s hand, held just below him while some tiny thing continued to pound into him from behind, her own domme egging her on the whole time, and then Jared had dutifully licked Jensen’s hand clean for him when he was finished. Alex had thought he was going to cream his shorts just from watching but he’d managed to restrain himself until they got home and Y/N had ridden him until they were both shuddering and sated.

He’s been dreaming about it, waking up hard every morning since that night. And not just semi-chubbed up – achingly, maddeningly, rock-solid and leaking. It’s gotten him into trouble, because he hasn’t been able to resist touching himself when he’s that hard up, and he’s not allowed to do that. Y/N had actually brought home a cock cage the night before for him to sleep in, so he didn’t wind up breaking his rules and ruining her plans for him. She can’t very well give him what he’s been dreaming about for weeks if he’s misbehaving.

Y/N had brought home a few other things last night along with the cock cage – she’d clearly enjoyed her shopping trip a little too much. The object of his fantasies is now sitting in front of him in the centre of their bed, black and threatening against the crisp, pale linens of the rest of the bedroom. The strap-on was a good size. Alex had been nervous that Y/N would be too cautious, too gentle with him, and get something shamefully small, but she hadn’t. Caution has never been her style anyways. He’s already getting ahead of himself imagining what it will be like to take something even bigger.

Alex is wearing the other new addition to their collection, a silicone plug that has been holding him open for the past hour or so while he kneels, waiting, at the foot of the bed. He had settled easily into the familiar position, his ankles and knees spread wide and in line while he sat back lightly on the spreader bar holding his legs apart. Being held open like this, he has to concentrate on staying tight so the plug doesn’t slip out. He knows if it does, he’ll be punished.

Y/N is in the shower, part of her ritual when they plan longer play sessions like this. She leaves Alex to sit and settle into his headspace while she uses the steam and the quiet to find her own. At the sound of the hairdryer, Alex feels his cock try to harden inside its restraint. That sound means Y/N is almost ready for him, and it’s a conditioned response by now, the excited heat he feels creeping under his skin. The sound of the door opening and closing comes a moment later, and Alex’s cock gives another smothered leap. She’s in the room with him now.

The scrape of blunt nails across the short hairs at the nape of his neck makes Alex shake, and the cuffs on his wrists and ankles rattle. He tries to crane his head back to see her but she pulls away, and he knows that means he’s not supposed to look yet.

“Have you been good for me, baby boy?” Y/N’s voice rings sweetly above him, sinking into his veins like a shot of something cool and calm. She’s using Jensen’s nickname for Jared again, the name he’s come to associate with this act. With dildos and harnesses and boys on their knees showing off how good they can be when they’re told what to do – when they’re owned like he and Jared are.

“Yes, Mistress,” Alex answers steadfastly. He has been good, he knows he has. He has been perfect for her.

“Yes, I can see you have been,” and he can hear the smile in Y/N’s voice, even though she still won’t move to where he can see her. He gasps suddenly but manages to choke it off before he gets too loud. Y/N had bent down to tap against his plug, nudging it maddeningly close to his prostate. “Good boy,” Y/N drops a small kiss to his shoulder in recognition of his efforts to keep quiet.

Alex savours the compliment, smiling proudly until a wisp of black trails up his back and over his eyes – his blindfold. He instantly deflates as Y/N secures the tie at the back of his head. He wants to see her. Well really, he wants to see her with a cock jutting out from her hips. He desperately hopes this doesn’t mean he won’t get to do that. A sharp tug on his cock sends Alex’s back rigid again as he tries to hold in the cry of shock at the sudden pain, however short lived.

“If you’re going to mope, we can stop right now,” Y/N speaks gently against his ear. She’s not mean about it, not cruel or teasing, she’s simply informing him.

“No, sorry, I’m sorry,” Alex sits as straight as he can manage, shoulders back, thighs and spine tensed.

“It’s okay, baby boy,” Y/N slips the back of her hand across his cheek and down his chest before pulling away. The creak of the bed springs tell Alex that she’s climbed on, hopefully, he prays as fervently as he can, to retrieve the strap-on she’d left him to contemplate this whole time. There’s moving and rustling and breathing but it’s all muddling together in his ears. He can’t make out where anything is, what anything is. He can only wait.

Something firm brushes against his lips. Y/N is in front of him now, and, he hopes, wearing the harness. The dildo is what’s pressing at his lips, and it is pressing now, not just brushing against them. Y/N wants him to let her in. He does, with relish.

“Good boy,” Y/N intones above him, her hands reaching for his head and combing through his hair. She doesn’t try directing him at first, just lets him explore the toy on his own. The silicone feels odd against his lips, it dries too quickly every time he pulls back so his mouth catches against its veins on each push back in. He isn’t sure how much of it he’s managing to fit into his mouth but he finds his limit fairly quickly, accidentally gagging himself and having to pull off.

“Sorry,” he pants, wishing he could wipe the spit that’s dripping down his chin, but his arms are still tied to the bar behind him. He must look so pathetic right now. His cock gives another twinge in its cage.

“It’s okay baby boy, try again, you can do it.” Y/N reassures him gently and pulls his mouth back to the toy. This time, when he reaches his limit and starts to pull away, Y/N stops him. She grips his hair tightly and holds the back of his head still on her cock. Alex gags again but stays still, and after a moment the intrusion doesn’t feel as bothersome. “Good boy,” Y/N murmurs above him, and Alex’s chest swells with warmth. “Just take a little more for me, baby boy. There we go,” Y/N eases him down just a fraction, and Alex starts to suck to distract his throat from wanting to push the toy out the other way.

“Fuck, you look so good like this baby,” Y/N sighs above him, petting his hair in appreciation. “Can just imagine how jealous all those guys at the club would be, seeing you suck me down so good. They’d all want a turn. It’s a shame to have you waste such a pretty mouth on a cock that can’t even feel it.” Alex moans around the toy and Y/N lets him pull back to suckle at the head. “You tryin’ to make me cum, baby boy?” Y/N laughs as Alex nods. “Such a fucking cumslut, aren’t you? Perfect fucking toy for that club.”

Alex’s mouth is suddenly empty and the air around him grows still and cold. He wants to call out, ask where she’s gone, but he doesn’t dare. Y/N keeps him waiting, testing him to see if he can behave, if he can keep quiet.

He passes.

The restraints holding his wrists to the bar click as Y/N undoes the buckles. She carefully rubs each wrist and moves the arm gently back and forth so she doesn’t shock his joints, before placing each hand palm down on the bed in front of him.

“Stand up, and keep bent over.” Alex pushes up from his knees onto his toes gracefully, in a move reminiscent of a yoga transition, and sinks his head and shoulders to the mattress, back arching and feet still widespread, leaving his ass open and on display. Arousal courses through him from the depth of the submission in this position. “So pretty,” Y/N coos. “I’ll have to bring a camera next time.” Next time. Alex’s blood sings at the promise, and he hasn’t even been fucked yet.

A fingernail trails lightly over the head of his cock through its cage, and he groans, unable to hold it in. That earns him a smack right over the plug sticking out of his exposed hole. He can’t stop the moan that follows that either, and Y/N repeats the motion harder, and harder again.

“C’mon baby, if you’re gonna moan like a little bitch then at least try to sound sexy while you do it,” she sneers behind him. Alex feels his body flame red under the insult. “You just sound like a slut. There’s plenty of those to go around, nothing making you special.” Alex cries out at the next hit and feels a spurt of precome force its way out of his cock. “That’s more like it,” Y/N praises, and he sighs in relief that he got it right.

The next sound Alex hears is the snick of a plastic cap – lube – he clenches just thinking about it. Then the plug in him is being twisted, swirled and thrust in and out of him teasingly. He moans again, now that he has permission, and Y/N pumps the plug in even harder as a reward. His ass doesn’t want to let it go when she pulls it away, oh so slowly, but it’s almost immediately replaced with her finger. It’s much thinner than the plug, and Alex feels his hole fluttering around it wantonly, silently begging for more, which she readily gives.

A second finger follows quickly and easily. The third is tougher, this time it’s a stretch, but the tight pain sends another shot of warmth through his cock and leaks out of the tip onto the bed. Y/N notices.

“You like that, baby boy?” she asks, sugar sweet. Alex nods and whines, and her fingers leave him instantly.

“Yes, Mistress!” he corrects, arching his back to try to find her fingers. She obliges him and pushes them in again.

“You think you’re ready?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answers properly, fucking himself back into her hand.

“Okay,” she withdraws her fingers and gives his butt a soothing pat. “On the bed, on your back for me, yeah?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Alex turns to sit on the bed and hoists himself back until he can feel their pillows and headboard behind him. He lays down, bending his knees and pulling them back to his chest. The bed dips below him as Y/N climbs on too, crawling between Alex’s legs. Another click, more lube drips down his ass, the cool liquid pooling on the covers as it runs off his ass. He feels the dildo press against his hole and he holds his breath.

The first nudge inside of him is strange. It’s thicker and rounder than anything he’s had back there before. The second little push is uncomfortable, and Alex scrunches his eyes shut, even though, with the blindfold on, it doesn’t make much difference. Y/N’s hands smooth up the backs of his thighs, rubbing gently, soothing the tension that had rocketed through them a moment before. After a few seconds of sympathetic touching Alex manages to relax, and he feels the dildo slip a little further inside of him.

Y/N keeps up soft cooing noises under her breath, making sure Alex knows how good he’s being, what a perfect baby boy he’s being for her. The praise makes him glow, and helps him forget the pain that’s still pulsing dully between his legs.

“I think you deserve a little reward, for being so good,” Y/N whispers when she’s finally pushed the toy all the way in, her hips flush with his.

“Can I see you?” Alex asks desperately. “Wanna look at you Mistress, please.”

“That’s what you want?” Y/N laughs, a little creully. “I was going to take this off,” her fingers skim over his balls and the cock cage keeping him soft and Alex jumps under the touch, “but if you want the blindfold off instead…” Y/N trails off, leaving the choice up to him. Alex falters, caught out by his own eagerness. If Y/N doesn’t take the cage off him now, she might not take it off at all. But on the other hand, the thought of not being able to see her the rest of the night… not being able to watch her fucking him, to see the cock pushing in and out of his body, the same sight he’d been so transfixed by when he was watching it happen to Jared… he needs to see it.

“The blindfold,” Alex whimpers as Y/N continues to tease his cock through the metal rings clamped around it. “Take off the blindfold, please, Mistress.”

“As you wish.”

Alex blinks up at Y/N’s smiling face as his eyes adjust to the light in the room. She looks fucking sexy. She’s in the same lingerine that she’d worn to Femme Fatale that night, the set he’d picked out for her to wear, and the addition of the leather harness at her hips is unfairly attractive. Alex glances down to their hips, takes in the sight of his cock lying limp against his stomach in its little metal prison, and skims further down to catch a glimpse of shiny black poking out from between their bodies. He swallows hard. This was absolutely the right decision.

“Like what you see baby boy?” Y/N taunts, swivelling her hips just a little to pull a groan from him as the dildo rubs against his prostate.

“Fuck yes,” Alex whines, the sound catching high in his throat and pouring out of him raggedly.

“Gonna let me fuck you now?” she asks sweetly, swinging her hips again.

“Fucking please, Mistre– fuck!” Alex shouts as Y/N pulls out and pistons her hips back in harshly. The pain is still there but the sharp strike of the toy inside him sends something like lightning up his spine that drowns out any other feeling his body is trying to conjure.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Y/N pants, beginning to sound out of breath as she fucks his ass relentlessly. “Love that about you, baby. Let me hear you.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” That’s the only word Alex can remember right now. He’s been waiting for this, dreaming about this, for so long and now it’s finally happening he can’t hold himself back. His cock aches and his head goes fuzzy as all the blood in his body tries to drain to his groin to get him hard but the cage keeps him soft and passive. It doesn’t stop him from leaking precum all over his stomach though. It’s dripping down his side, pooling in his belly button, leaving him slick and sticky and fucking humiliated the more he looks at it. Y/N catches where he’s looking and smirks, running her fingers through the offending liquid and bringing it to his lips.

“Look at this fucking mess, such a needy little slut aren’t you?” Alex whimpers and nods, head jerking back as Y/N pushes his hips up so she can get even deeper. “Like my cock in your ass baby boy?” Alex nods again, lost for words and breath. “Can’t wait to see how much more this slutty little hole can take. Maybe it can take two? What do you think about that, me and someone else fucking you open so you’re all loose and used up?”

Y/N’s monologue has Alex gasping for air. He’s always found her voice sexy, and when she paints these pictures for him, how can he not fall straight in and give himself up to the pleasure she’s promising?

“Wanna get you a cock that’s so big I can see it inside you.” Y/N runs her hand over his stomach, through the sticky mess he’s leaking over his happy trail. “Wanna see it right here, punching up inside you, filling you up so good.” Alex groans, pushing up into her hand and pushing his hips back onto her cock. “That’s it baby, fuck yourself for me, good boy.”

Alex is starting to get dizzy. The physical exertion and the immense pleasure and the tinge of pain and lack of hard on to channel everything into has him thrown off, and achingly desperate – obviously just how Y/N wants him. Then, without warning, the pressure on his cock disappears and it fills so rapidly it’s painful and without the chance to even think about asking for permission he’s cumming in long pulses, shooting up his chest and onto his lips and his chin. He thinks he screamed but he can’t be sure and then everything goes orange and red and splotchy, and then white.

Alex blinks awake in the semi-dark, the blue glow of Y/N’s laptop illuminating her baggy t-shirt and messy hair as she sits up in bed reading. It takes him a moment to orient himself, to remember how to move his fingers and toes but he finally manages to drag himself closer to Y/N.

“Hey there, sleepy head,” she grins down at him, and reaches out to stroke his hair off his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Completely dead,” Alex breathes. “In a good way,” he adds when he catches the tinge of worry flit across Y/N’s face. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, baby boy,” Y/N leans down and brushes his lips in a soft kiss. “So, you want to do that again?”

“Absolutely,” Alex sighs, snuggling into Y/N’s side and wrapping his arms around her like a teddy bear.

“Good,” Y/N pushes away her laptop and settles into the cuddle, curling up in Alex’s arms like a happy little spoon. “Because I’ve got some ideas.”

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#spnkinkbingo #alex x reader #alex calvert #alex calvert x reader #sub!alex #domme!reader #dom!reader #smut #spn rpf #reader insert

[oogaboogasphincter]

Hotel, Motel, Holiday Inn (Ezra x f!reader)

Summary: Staying in a hotel on Puggart Bench while in between expeditions has given you and Ezra a lot of time to develop your relationship both emotionally and physically. On your last night before you depart for your next trip together, you decide to try out one of Ezra’s kinks. Your heartstrings aren’t the only things that will be getting tied up this evening. 

Word Count: 6.8k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! because this is like 80% smut

Warnings: mild allusion to a rocky relationship from this oneshot (both partners have made up and are now in an established relationship), smut, soft-ish bondage (f gets tied up), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl please), dirty talk, swearing, a hand on a throat but no choking, one (1) instance of ✨spitting✨, questionable kink shaming??💀(a joke is made about daddy kinks), comma splice, atrocious metaphor and repetitive sentence structure galore. also no beta reader, and reader uses she/her pronouns and is afab. 

Author’s Note: this is my first smut fic! i really appreciated all of the positive feedback that i got on my first fic (💚), so i thought i would do a smutty follow-up to it! if you haven’t read it and you’d like to, you can read it here. i tried my best to make this fic readable as a standalone oneshot though, so if you’d like to do that, that’s cool too! :) i think the only things new readers need to know are that Ezra’s nickname for the reader is Goose, and The Blue is a moon, like The Green, that Ezra, Cee and the reader traveled to in my last fic. also i reference the traffic light system a lot more in this fic than i have personally read in other fics, just because i feel like it’s a great way of checking in on your partner during sex. i know it might get a lil annoying after a while, but i think it’s important to keep it up. i also wanted to include it in my first fic bc even though i might not use it explicitly in my next fics, i want it to be understood that I think it’s super important to continue to check on your partner, etc. also i apologize if the smut isn’t “realistic”, as your writer is 100% a virgin skjfskdj💀 i don’t think that means that i don't know/can't learn how to write some smut though! however i would just keep that in mind💀, and i hope you enjoy it! :)🍀💜

p.s. i'd like to say thank you to @martinsmomo​ one more time for giving me the amazing request for my first fic! 💕

gif by @skyshipper

“Go to the bedroom, strip to your underwear and wait for me.”

The patch job of your relationship with Ezra on The Blue was a success. Spending an equal amount of time with him alone, alone with Cee and as a trio boosted your strength as a group. The awkward silences and argumentative expeditions around The Blue were no more, and were replaced with friendly banter and jovial hikes. You and Ezra had made up so much that you had started to express your affection for one another physically. 

On every third day or so, Cee would go out on a trip alone, needing some time to herself. It wasn’t that she couldn’t stand the two of you - although you and Ezra occasionally found joy in pushing her buttons - but she enjoyed doing activities by herself. It made her feel like she was fortifying her transition from teenager to young adult. You and Ezra couldn’t have agreed more and supported her independent decisions. 

And on every third day or so, her absence from the pod allowed your courage to physically engage with Ezra to grow. The two of you had kept it to a minimum, not wanting Cee to notice any blushing cheeks or sweaty foreheads or panting chests when she would return. The majority of your time was spent just cuddling in positions that were a little too sexually charged to be considered platonic: a leg wound around a waist here, a hand gripping an ass there. The heaviest moment you had had was during a makeout session. 

While lying down in Ezra’s makeshift bed and mingling tastebuds, you had hiked one of your legs up and over his hips. Soon after, you felt the tip of his cock poke the underside of your thigh. He couldn’t have been harder. You dared to relieve some of his pent up arousal while still maintaining some semblance of innocence and released your grip on his hair, slid your hand down his broad chest and slipped it underneath your leg to get to his erection. You held it and ran your fingers over the tip of it, then along its length, hoping to get a good idea of what your pussy would have to take on at some later time. The moment Ezra felt the light weight of your hand, he moaned deeply into your mouth. He had then broken your kiss and warned, “Goose, in all seriousness, you should highly consider concluding your investigation unless you want to throw me into a pit of agonizing embarrassment.”

You teased, his clothed cock still in hand, “Ezra, I think we should stick to swallowing each other’s tongues and not speaking in them.” 

He had hummed in delight and grinned at you, then sighed, “Okay then, in your plebeian lingo: if you don’t stop rubbing my cock, I’ll cum in my pants.”

You both erupted in laughter, and you had snaked your hands back up his body and entangled them in his hair, taking his tongue in your mouth once again. 

After your departure from The Blue, your gang had decided to stop on Puggart Bench and decompress for a while. Cee wanted to hang out with her friends before they all went their separate ways in their new adult lives, Ezra wanted to repay the loan he had taken out for his prosthetic arm and you wanted a real bed to sleep in. Not a pilot’s chair, not a bundle of blankets on a metal floor, but a real bed. With a mattress, a comforter, a nice set of sheets, a plethora of blankets and pillows. A two bedroom suite in Puggart Bench’s most prestigious hotel was what the three of you had booked for two months before another orbiting moon made its way into the Bakhroma System for the three of you to explore. Your group had engaged in some nice, familial-like activities, nourishing your found family dynamic. 

You and Ezra had also spent quite a bit of time getting to know each other physically. While Cee would spend the day with her friends, you and Ezra never left your bed. Well, technically Ezra left the bed when he would stand, pull you to the very edge of it and subsequently use his newfound balance to pound into you with abandon. Your body hadn’t left the sheets, even when you knelt on the floor and took Ezra down your throat; your back pushed against the side of the mattress with every one of his thrusts. 

Fast forward to the present day, and it is the last day you are on Puggart Bench before you leave for The Indigo, the new moon in town. Cee is spending the night at her friend’s house, where she will be having one last sleepover with all of the girls she won’t have the chance to connect with for an undetermined period of time. You feel guilty for looking forward to her leaving because you can only imagine what your bedroom will see of you and Ezra tonight. 

While he washed your hair after a particularly exertive romp, Ezra had hinted that he had a kink that he wanted to try out with you. Without a definite return date from The Indigo, he offered that the two of you try it before you left for the moon, his desires getting the best of him. He never elaborated on what the kink is, as the both of you got entranced with washing the rest of your bodies. You plan on bringing it up tonight in the hopes of coming to a decision of whether or not you two have the patience to wait to test it out or not. 

The two of you are now putting on a facade of patience as Cee packs her things in her room. You sit in between Ezra’s legs on the couch, back to his torso, both of you reading a different book. The text fails to retain your attention, so you place a finger on the page you are on and fold it over. You shift your head against Ezra’s chest to look up at him, pupils dilating immediately as they take him in. Black thick-rimmed reading glasses grace his face, the only indication in his rugged appearance that he would be a bookworm. He glances down from his book to meet your eyes, smiling at you. He brings his right hand down, brushing the back of the dark grey metal against your cheek. You smile back at him, and a naughty thought pops into your brain. 

With your free hand, you find Ezra’s cock in an instant and palm it through his pants. His mouth drops in blissful surprise, but he’s quick to sit up and yank your hand away from his now hard dick. He snaps out a whisper, “Patience, Goose,” and places a light kiss to your temple. He gets up and walks away, afraid that you would just try to place your hand right back where it was. He was also afraid that he wouldn’t have the strength to stop you the next time. 

Suitcase clips clap from Cee’s bedroom, and moments later she walks into the living room. You look up at her from the back of the couch: still pouting that Ezra shooed you away, and he looks up at her too, standing behind the kitchen counter: hiding his erection. You both fight through your mutual embarrassment and smile at her, noticing her excitement. She beams at the two of you, suitcase in hand, and raises her shoulders, “Well, I’m going to go now.” 

She starts to walk to the door and Ezra follows her, putting a hand on her shoulder, “Have a good time, Sparrow. We’ll swing by and scoop you up tomorrow afternoon.” 

Cee smiles up at him, “Will do.” 

Ezra retracts his hand and puts both in his pockets, “We hate to bar you from seeing your friends and leading a more stable life, but we really do find solace in your company on our travels. It keeps us grounded, as much as one can be on an orbiting moon.” 

She turns so that she faces both of you, “No, that’s okay. I really enjoy being with you guys. You’re like a family that I got to pick.”

Tears threaten to run down your cheeks as you get up and rush over to her to give her a tight hug. She returns your embrace and Ezra follows shortly behind, encasing both of you in his arms. He draws giggles from his girls by placing a kiss on each of your heads, and after a moment of relishing in your found family, you all release one another. Cee says her final goodbyes, opens the door and closes it behind her, giving you and Ezra one last final smile of departure. 

You feel ashamed by the amount of heat that floods your genitals as soon as you hear the lock of the door click closed. Ezra, ever sensitive to your every mood change, pulls you in close and presses his forehead to yours, “You know we have to wait, Goose.” You nod, all too familiar with your routine once Cee left. You would wait and listen for her to walk down the hallway to the elevators, press the down button, wait for the doors to open, walk inside the chamber once it arrived, wait for the doors to close and finally start to descend to the ground floor. You did so out of respect for her; you and Ezra would never be able to forgive yourselves if she were to, for example, forget something and come back to find the two of you in the middle of some heated relations. 

Ezra’s fingers massage your shoulder blades as you anticipate the sound of the elevator opening, fully aware that he was not only dissipating any nerves you have but spurring your arousal on as well. He knows that thoughts of his fingers traveling elsewhere swarm your brain as he alternates the pressure his fingertips give you. With this knowledge, unbeknownst to you, he’s thinking about what his first order for you will be tonight. Would he introduce the kink that he alluded to the other day? Does he just want a night of repeating your default, mind-blowing agenda? How would you feel about reversing roles, and have you be his dominant and him your submissive? 

The ping of the elevator down the hall snaps him out of his trance. You eagerly await the whir of the elevator going down, and seconds later your wish is granted. Ezra lets go of you and steps back, eyes raking up and down your body twice before telling you, “Go to the bedroom, strip to your underwear and wait for me.” Such straightforward instructions to come from such an elaborate man. Ezra doesn’t waste a second in giving you seductive orders the moment he hears the elevator descending, his hunger to devour you reaching unbearable levels. With your appetite consisting of the same ferocity, you follow his instructions and go to your bedroom. Plopping onto the bed and laying on your back, you kick your shoes off, shimmy out of your pants and slide your shirt up and over your head, tossing the items to the chair in the corner of the room where you and Ezra kept your clothes. You found it humorous that he, like you, implemented the “chair of discarded clothing” into his life. 

Now in just your underwear and socks (Ezra had relayed to you that it is statistically easier to orgasm while wearing socks), you reach over into the nightstand and pull out a necktie. You had been rewarded with such powerful orgasms at the hands of Ezra - literally - that you often couldn’t hold in your cries no matter how hard you tried. The necktie’s usual resting place was in between your teeth, tied around your mouth in an effort to muffle yourself out of courtesy of your neighbors. Ezra’s mouth remained ungagged; the neighbors must’ve thought that he was trying out some new rigorous exercise regime with all of those heaves, grunts and... moans? What sort of move would cause his headboard to repeatedly knock on the wall? 

You sit and rub your thumbs on the buttersoft navy silk of the tie, patiently awaiting Ezra’s entrance into the room and later your cunt. A few moments later he comes in and shuts and locks the door behind him, an emergency precaution to protect the eyes of Cee or any intruding employee. He comes over and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. You glide over to him like a magnet and figure out a part of his kink after taking a quick glance into his hands, seeing that he’s holding rope. Black rope, to be exact, of varying lengths. He notices your quizzical brow and asks, “Spill your thoughts, Goose.” You gingerly reach out and touch the rope with your index finger, your vision moving in loops as you trace the coils. You look up and meet his eyes, those warm, curious, assuring windows to his soul that you love ever so dearly. You question, “Do you like to be tied up or do you want to tie me up?” 

He displays a faint smile, “I’d find great satisfaction in tying you up. However, I would be a liar if I claimed that the thought of you restraining me and having your way with me never joyfully crossed my mind.”

You sit there in silence, taking in his desires. You are most definitely up for this, you just approach every new romp with hesitation. You hadn’t been a virgin the first time you slept with Ezra, but no one had ever made you feel so good. So open, exposed, on display, in all the right ways. You had been set ablaze by his confident maneuvers, calmed ever so coolly by his doting ministrations. He had drowned you in his passionate love, and you had loved every single fucking second of it. It just got a bit overwhelming at times, which he would take notice of and promptly give you your time and space when you needed it. 

The rope intimidates you. It was smooth to the touch on the pad of your finger, but you could already imagine the uncomfortable burns it could give you. The tightness and thickness of the coils add to the fantasy of being completely immovable, but it also plants doubts in your mind. You voice your concerns to Ezra, “I’d love for you to tie me up, but I don’t think I’d like to start with rope.”

He cups your cheek lovingly, “Always one step ahead of me, Goose,” and picks up an end of the necktie in your lap. He rubs it with you, “I don’t want to start with the rope on you, either. I want us to work up to it.” He pats your cheek and holds up the rope in his hands, “I mean, it does look a little scary, doesn’t it?” Your newfound ease lets itself out of your lungs with a giggle, mirrored by Ezra. He turns and puts the rope on the seat at the foot of your bed, and you climb into his lap as he turns back around and cover his mouth with yours. Falling back onto the bed, his arms wrap around you like a snake and constrict you to his body. You grind your pussy onto his clothed torso, desperate for some friction, your soft moans tumbling down his throat. 

He has to pull you away from his mouth by the back of your neck, “Let me take my clothes off, sweet girl.” He gives you a chaste kiss before you roll off of him and let him stand to strip. As he gets naked, you remove your panties in a flash, and he quizzes you, “Color system?”

“Green for when I’m enjoying it, yellow for when I’m being pushed to my limits, red for when I’ve reached my limit and need you to stop.” 

“Good girl. What’s our safe word?”

“Magpie.”

“Excellent. Are you ready?” he asks as he pulls his underwear down and repeats your earlier action of throwing the discarded clothes onto the chair in the corner. 

You nod fervently, “Yes sir.” 

He sighs as he walks over to the edge of the bed and kneels, “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, Goose, you don’t have to call me that. I feel fulfilled enough in my domination with the heavenly noises your precious body emits.” 

You shrug, “It’s just natural. It’s a good girl formality, Ez. Aren’t I a good girl?”

He raises an eyebrow as he hooks his hands behind your knees and pulls your legs over the bed so you’re sitting on the edge, “I don’t think good girls let their neediness get the best of them and just fondle cocks out in the open.” You let out a devious laugh, noting his reference to your sneak attack on the couch, and he takes the necktie from you.  Your fingers run through his hair for a moment before he gently takes your wrists, smiling up at you. 

He reaches up to kiss you, and after your lips part he mumbles against them, “I’m just going to tie your hands together now, okay?” 

You nod, “Okay.” 

He gives you another wholehearted kiss before sitting back on his feet, beginning to tie your wrists to one another. You admit, although it’s incredibly arousing to watch his thick fingers twirl the smooth fabric into a knot, you grow a little bit anxious at the loss of movement. He can read it on your face after he finishes the knot, “I want you to lay back while I eat you out. I tied your hands in front of you so that you can pinch me if you want me to stop but can’t find your words.” You nod, appreciating the simplicity of his instructions. 

“I need you to use your words now, Goose.”

“Okay,” you reiterate, “Safe word is magpie. I can pinch you if I can’t say it.”

He nods, “Good girl,” and eases you onto your back. As he’s moving down your body to your core, something dawns on you, “Wait a minute.”

Ezra pauses and looks up at you with a caring expression, “What?”

“How am I supposed to stay quiet with the tie on my wrists and not in my mouth?”

He answers simplistically with a smirk, “Don't.”

You laugh, “What about the neighbors?”

“Fuck them. They should be grateful that tonight they will be an audience to one of the most beautiful symphonies that has ever been composed. And I’m not stepping foot off of this planet until I’ve heard my good girl’s clear, unabashed screams.” 

A rush of hot air leaves your mouth, enticing Ezra to come back up and push it back into you with his tongue. A moment of clashing teeth later, he retreats back down to your core and lightly knocks your legs apart. You shift your gaze downward to find him admiring your cunt, his left hand capturing his dick and pumping it a few times. He leans forward, presses a kiss to your inner thigh and then runs his sharp nose over the spot, up your leg, across your hip and back down to your wetness and inhales deeply. You can’t help but laugh at his display of rapture, his sniffing audible. He threatens you in disbelief, “My indulgence amuses you, Goose?” 

You meet his eyes with yours, twinkling with mischief, “Yeah, kind of.” 

He puts his tongue in his cheek and shakes his head, “Goose, you are being a bit of a brat.” He pushes your knees to your chest, his hands on the backs of your thighs, keeping them in place, “And you should know by now how much I love taming my little brat.” 

You are very aware of how much he enjoys brat taming, hence your acting up. His tongue licks a wide stripe up your core and a gasp escapes your mouth. He moans into you, sending vibrations through your cunt and shivers up your spine. He buries his tongue in you, his lips fornicating with your southern set, his fingers gripping your soft flesh tightly. Your anticipation of this moment has made your cunt oversensitive, so every little tickle of Ezra’s facial hair, every small movement of his warm tongue, every faint nudge of his nose and chin against your vulva makes you moan loudly. The pattern that his tongue is following suddenly picks up speed and your body involuntarily adjusts to it. Your hips buck up into his mouth, your clit weeping to be drenched in his saliva. Your tied hands lower until your fingertips are able to find his hair and intertwine with the thick brunette strands. The stability that gripping onto his hair gives you makes you hyperaware of just how close you are to cumming already. You whimper, “Ezra, please.”

This tone of your voice has been permanently ingrained in his mind thanks to your daily fucks over the past couple months. If the tightening of your hamstrings isn’t a large enough hint to him that you are close, your breathlessness is a blatant clue. He releases you from his mouth, lines of spit keeping the two of you connected, “That’s my girl, come on.” His egging on is more than you need to be shoved into your orgasm. As his tongue returns to lap at your clit, your neck arches up and your eyes roll into the back of your head. A groan rips through your throat that drowns out his muffled moans, his mouth working you through your orgasm. Your sharp intakes of air start to stagger out as your heart begins to calm down, your cunt pulsing with aftershocks. Ezra reluctantly removes his mouth from you, wetting your inner thigh with a line of his spit and your slick before pressing a kiss to the same spot he kissed earlier. The blackness of his pupils overtakes his chocolatey irises when he catches your eyes, dopamine flooding his nervous system. 

He presents his wrist, does some math on an imaginary watch and jokes, “That must’ve been a record, Goose.” You giggle and pull your hands up to your mouth, trying to hide your embarrassed smile. He reaches up and pulls your hands back down to tangle your fingers in his cowlicks, “But my desire to drink pools of your cum has not yet been satiated.” 

You swear under your breath as he dips his head back in between your legs, your voice catching in your throat when his hot breath cascades over your folds. This time, instead of licking stripes and lapping, he opts to draw shapes and trace circles against you. It sounds stupid, but man does it feel fucking good. Before you lose all self control, you give his scalp a massage, the best one you can muster with conjoined hands, as a way of telling him I love you. Simultaneously, he switches his tongue’s clockwise motion to counterclockwise and hooks his hands around the tops of your thighs, pulling you deeper into his mouth so he can devour you even more thoroughly than he already was. You brush his hair off of his sweaty forehead with your knuckles, seeing that his eyes are closed and brows are furrowed in concentration. He’s been moaning this entire time into you, blissfully lost in the heaven that is your pussy, and as his tongue picks up its pace the vocal vibrations boost your toward your release. You beg of him, “Please don’t stop.” 

He doesn’t stop. In fact, he heightens your arousal one step further than you thought possible. He notes your utter wetness and decides to fill your wanting hole by snaking his left hand down to your entrance and slipping two fingers inside you. A heated orgasm pumps through your every artery just like Ezra’s fingers are pumping in and out of your cunt, his tongue keeping a delicious pace. After your body is done convulsing with pleasure, he moves up it and stops in front of your face. 

“Open.” 

You are all too familiar with this command and obey. Ezra spits a combination of your cum and his saliva into your mouth. He presses a hand to the underside of your jaw and you close your mouth. 

“Swallow.” 

You do as he says while he keeps his hand against your neck, feeling his love concoction make its way down your throat. He groans and gives you a quick kiss before asking, “Color?” You smile and bring your hands up to scratch at his scruff, “Green. You?”

“Green.” 

Pulling your body tight against his, he hauls the two of you to the middle of the bed. He sits up and back atop your hips, pulls your hands closer to him and begins to untie your wrists. Your eyes can’t help but fixate on his hard dick, standing erect in front of you, as he speaks, “Now Goose, once you’re untied I want you to get on all fours for me,” he notices your distraction, “and if you try to pull any shenanigans, there will be consequences.” You shift your gaze up to his eyes and you swear that there’s a deep sparkle in them that is daring you, begging you, to disobey him. He liked to punish you as much as you liked to be punished by him. So, once untied, you throw him a curveball and take his orders, flipping over and propping yourself up on your hands and knees. You look over your shoulder at him to see that his face is mangled in baffled confusion, making you laugh, “What?” 

He mounts your ass and teases your entrance with his cock, “If you had attempted to grab what your eyes were drooling over, I would’ve spanked you.” 

“But I didn’t.”

He leans over your back and places his hands on either side of yours, “I wanted to spank you.” 

“I know. But I’m not a naughty girl.”

He raises his eyebrows and chuffs out disbelief, “Maybe if you continue to tell yourself that delusion, you can convince yourself that it’s true. But there’s no fooling me. I know my girl is infatuated with misbehaving in order to spite me,” he stuffs his cock inside your pussy, “Isn't that true?” He lifts his left hand to wrap his fingers around the arched column of your throat, forcing you to look up at him. 

You dismantle his lie, “I don’t do it to spite you, I do it to delight you.” 

He pulls his hips away from yours in order to prepare for a thrust and hums, “That’s one reason why I love you, Goose. You see right through me.” 

The two of you groan in unison as he fucks forward and bottoms out inside you. As he establishes a steady pace, your quivering fingers find purchase on his wrist. Even though you had slept together a countless number of times in the past two months, his girthy penetration still overwhelmed you at first, and you benefitted from at least a few seconds of adjusting. He knew this and was why he untied you; his brutal rhythm coupled with the binding of the tie would be too much for you without a little warming up. While he’s stretching you out, he murmurs encouragements into your hair, “That’s it, just like that... You’re taking my cock so well... Good girl.” 

After your muscles relax, he asks, “Color?”

“Couldn’t be greener. You?”

He grins at your response, “Green.” 

He gives your cheek a kiss before proposing his next instruction, “Why don’t you be a good girl and lay down and put your arms behind your back?”

He pauses his thrusts as you lean forward and press your cheek against the sheets. You turn to ask him just how he wants you to move, and he reads your mind, “Touch the pits of your elbows.” You twist your forearms behind your back until they are pressed against each other and the tips of one hand’s fingers graze the opposite side’s elbow. He snakes the silky tie in between your spine and wrists, the fabric gliding easily over your sweaty skin. He ties your wrists together again, this time much looser than before. He color checks you when he finishes the knot. You wiggle your arms, the amount of resistance being just right, “Green.” He hums in enjoyment and runs his fingertips down the backs of your arms, sending a pleasant shudder through you. 

Lining himself up, he places a steadying right hand on your lower back. The contrast of the cool metal of his prosthetic limb to the fire that barrels through you once he pushes himself back into your hole is divine. Both textures of his hands slip against your skin as they try to find a solid grip on your hips in order to allow him to begin pounding into you. Your whimpering spurs him on, and once he’s able to to lock you into place you both swear under your breath in anticipation. As he embarks on his ferocious rhythm, an orgasm takes you by surprise. 

Well, not really by surprise, because Ezra has proven time and time again that he can coax you to cum at a moment’s notice. 

Out of courteous instinct, you bury your face into the bed to muffle your cries of ecstasy. Ezra turns your face to the side and tuts, “Uh-uh, Goose, I need to hear you this time, remember?” 

You can barely him him, let alone understand him, while an astronomical burst of white oxytocin smothers your poor body. Unable to gain control of your composure to stop yourself, you indulge Ezra and let your screams fill the bedroom. The numbness of your mind fades away, effects of your orgasm bringing feeling back to you: the hot tears that spot your bottom lashline, the sweet soreness that the tensing of your muscles left you, the sweat that gathers in the line of your spine, the aroused slick that coats your inner thighs. 

You pant as Ezra unties you, “Good girl. Flip over and face me,” and he tenderly places your forearms to your sides. 

You’re exhausted. You can most definitely take more of his loving, but you need him to do the work, “I can’t.” 

He rolls you over onto your back, his muscular arms giving you the comfort you need to go on. A frantic, worried expression takes over his face, “You okay? Still green? I didn’t push you too far, did I? Was the tie too tight? Did I-” 

You shut him up with a kiss. You reassure him, “Yes, still green. Just fucking tired.” 

You both laugh, and he asks, “Do you want to stop?” 

You shake your head no, “I’m not sure if the neighbors heard all of that scream. I think they need another one.” 

Your dirty talk contorts his mouth into a grin of sly allure as he gets up off the bed, “I concur.” He opens a drawer of the nightstand and takes out another necktie, this one made of black wool. He gets back on the bed and says, “Let’s give them a musical to remember.” 

You snicker as he pushes both of you farther up the bed, giving you more room to mess about in. He places the second tie next to the blue one and a hand on each of your ankles, “What this next position requires in flexibility it will pay for infinitely in pleasure for you and I both, okay, Goose?” 

Your wariness is excited, “Okay?” 

He pulls your legs together and picks up the blue tie. He wraps the fabric around both ankles, beginning to tie them together, but pauses and interjects, meeting your eyes, “You’re okay with me tying you here, right?” 

You smile at his concern and mock, “Ezra, you could tie me any way you’d like and I’ll be more than happy.” 

His nose crinkles in satisfaction and he resumes tying you up. After he’s done, he pushes your thighs to your chest, bending your knees so your feet are in the air. You can’t stop the laughter that erupts from you, “Ez, what in the Bakhroma System are you scheming?” 

He gives you a wickedly teasing laugh back, “A fun time, Goose.” 

He momentarily cups your face with his left hand, “If at any point it gets too much, for whatever reason, just say the word and I’ll stop everything.” 

You take his hand and kiss his palm, “Okay.” 

He smiles, boops your nose with his thumb and pulls your arms so that they rest in the pit of your upside down knees. He picks up the black tie and does a different knot on your arms than he had done previously. He puts the binding on them higher up, which makes you hold your legs up, keeping your cunt on display for him. The wool of the tie scratches where the silk had soothed you, but you savor the friction. Ezra wastes no time in entering you again, plunging his cock deep into your fluttering walls. You brace your forehead against your shins, panting wildly. With every thrust, he hits something deep and sensitive in you, but you know you could make the experience more intense for the both of you. 

“Ez?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can you look at me?” He angles himself so he can look around your legs and meet your eyes. As you are projected into the depths of his eyes, engulfed by the lust-blown ink of his pupils, enhanced by the dark coffee that surrounds them, an “I love you” slips out of your lips. 

He compresses your body further by leaning down and capturing your mouth, “I love you too.” 

When he pulls back and his hands find the backs of your thighs, he asks for a color check. You answer green, giving him permission to ravage you. He does just that, putting every ounce of his might behind his thrusts, eliciting growls of the same magnitude from you both. The gradual construction of an orgasm starts to warm your body, your moans getting louder and louder with each passing second. In an effort to put it off, you bite down hard on your lip. Ezra notices, running a thumb across your lipline, “Goose, please, allow me to be privy to your every stuttered breath.”

“Every gasp of delighted surprise.”

“Every involuntary whimper.”

“Every lustful yelp.”

“Every plea for me to keep going.”

“Every unhinged beg.”

“Every feral scream that only I can rouse out of those magnificent lungs. Indulge my deranged wish and let me hear it all, Goose.”

His words whisk you onto an expressive whirlwind of slow-building passion. You close your eyes and watch as your orgasm transforms from a cozy snuggle to a captivating explosion; behind your eyelids, amorous red transitions to a lustful magenta. It lightens to a flirtatious and giggly bubblegum, intensifying to a vibrating, barely-there pink. Then, all at once, buckets of slumberous evergreen, pure Ezra energy, submerge you into your release. Any bit of any other color is eradicated as he pours his soul onto yours. Descending from your chameleonic trance, you open your eyes to meet his. He can see that he has torn you apart in a most satiating way, which catapults him to his peak. He pulls out of you and pumps his cum onto the backside of your thighs, his heart collapsing with joy. He smears his stickiness across both of your hamstrings and then quickly gets to work to release you from his necktie binds. The bind that he has made of your heart to his, though, is infinitely knotted, forever unbreakable. 

Your limbs untangle themselves and fall to the bed, every cell in your body pooped from the session. He asks for a final time, “Color?” 

You sigh, “Green. You?” 

He smiles, “Green.” 

He brushes the now cum-stained ties to the side and pats your stomach, stamping a handprint of his seed, “I’ll be right back, Goose.” You nod once and he gets up and exits the room, leaving the door ajar.

You flip onto your stomach, your muscles yearning for a change of position after getting pummeled into the mattress. You bend your arms to lay in front of you, elbows sighing in relief for being contracted instead of stretched. You close your eyes and rest your head on his pillow for what seems like a millisecond, but when you open them back up Ezra has returned with two glasses of water, a washcloth and a juice box. 

He folds the cloth into a triangle, dips a corner into a glass and then brings it behind you. The icy water feels good on your overheated skin as he wipes away his cum before it has the chance to dry. Once he cleans you off, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to your depleted frame. He sets the cloth down and picks up the other glass of water, “Drink this, sweetheart.” You prop yourself up on your forearms and gulp some much needed fluids down as Ezra holds the glass steady against your mouth. You hold up a weak hand when you’ve had your fill and he finishes off the drink. You never thought you would find sharing a drink like this with someone stomachable, let alone wildly attractive. But Ezra had changed you; you wanted to exchange cells, germs, bodily fluids with him, no matter how nasty it sounded when put into words. 

Ezra trades the glass for the juice box and pops the straw into the opening, holding it up to your lips, “Drink some.” You curiously eye the juice box: apple flavored, the carton decorated in bright and childish cartoons. You tease him, “You know, when I said I might have a daddy kink, this is not what I meant.” 

You both laugh, and he pokes after a moment, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” 

As you take the straw into your mouth and drink, he places a hand on the back of your head and pets your hair, “That’s it, babygirl, do as Daddy says.” An air of laughter blows through your nose and you choke on the liquid as Ezra cackles. You drop the straw and cough, “Stop!” 

He continues to laugh at you while you whine, “Why do I have to drink this anyways, can’t I just have water?” 

He calms himself down and shakes his head, “No, I want to replenish your blood sugar. Otherwise you might feel faint, and not in a good way.” He shoots you a wink and you take another sip of the juice. 

When you’re done, he puts the half-empty box back on the nightstand and lays on top of you. You joke, “You’re crushing me and you told me I have to pee right after.” 

Since sleeping together, Ezra had realized how little knowledge of aftercare you had. He had advised you to go to the bathroom as soon as possible after the deed is done in order to avoid urinary tract infections, among other pains. He nuzzles into your shoulder and protests, “In a minute.” 

Taking into account the history of his comment and your increasingly heavy eyelids, you rebut, “You know that never happens.” More often than not, when Ezra trapped you in a cage of cuddles directly afterward like this, the two of you would fall asleep and you would skip the trip to the bathroom. He grunts and moves his weight off of you, “Fine, but I’ll only let you go if I can carry you in there.” You barely have time to begin laughing before he’s swooping you up into his arms. 

After you both use your respective time in the bathroom, you and Ezra dress in matching pajamas and climb into bed. Coddling you into his broad chest, his fingers dance on the back of your neck and your lower back. You turn your head up to face him and when he returns your gaze you reference the whole night, “Thank you.” 

A smile crinkles his tired eyes, “The pleasure was all mine, Goose. Thank you for taking it all so well. Get some sleep, okay?” 

“Only if you will too.”

“Sure thing, my love.”

He gives you a kiss before you retreat back into the sanctuary of his embrace. Right as you’re drifting off to sleep, he adds, “I would like to ravage you one more time, in the morning.” 

Your smirk pulls at the fabric of his shirt, “Okay. But no daddy kink. We have to save some things to explore when we come back.” 

He hums, pressing his cheek into the top of your head before the two of you succumb to the temptation of sleep, “As you wish.”

💘taglist: @pascalpanic

#ezra x reader #ezra x you #ezra x f!reader #ezra smut #ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra x fem!reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #prospect 2018

[goodlucksnez]

short t/odoroki quirk flu

AGED UP T/ODOROKI

I wrote this IDK i if it good or if i should continue but enjoy

It was October again...a glorious October, all red and gold, with mellow mornings when the valleys were filled with delicate mists as if the spirit of autumn had poured them in for the sun to drain — amethyst, pearl, silver, rose, and smoke-blue. The dews were so heavy that the fields glistened like cloth of silver. Todoroki walked in the dewy morning to the agency his feet dragging on the slightly darken surface. The golden light pierced his orbs the headache he had been nursing kicked up in intensity and he winced in response. As the blue outline of the agency began to come into view, he swallowed his pride and gathered the energy to push the metal doors open into the warm interior.

Todoroki at the age of 24 created his agency to the dismay of his father. He had around 50 employees who all reported to him. When he entered the building the dull hum of the fluorescent lights pained him and he winced as he made his way into his office ignoring the pain and the increasing congestion in his face.

Once he sat down in his chair, his assistant came rushing in. “Good morning Sir.”

“Please Nightmare I told you to call me Shoto. But continue.”

“Of course, your morning was uneventful I assume. Well, here are your files and remember you have a meeting at 2 o’clock.”

“Thank you, Nightmare. If you could take all my calls this morning, I have a bit of a headache.”

She nodded and closes the door more quietly. As Shoto opened the desktop and logged into the files of the arrest in the past week. As he clicked on a rather interesting case called position dagger his nose started to itch and run. As he sniffled back the congestion the itch increased in intensity. He scratched his nose with his left hand. While he began to type, he found his eyes beginning to close and he turned his chair away from his desk as his breath begin to hitch.

“-ISSHoo-!! hhisSShww!- ISSHwww!”

As he covered his nose and mouth with his hand, he could not help but notice the small amount of snowflake flutter out before melting in the inside of his palm. He brushed off the strange incident as a rare occurrence, just a mishap with his Quirk. When he turned his chair back to his desk he could hear the fast footstep approaching signaling an interruption from an employee. Before the person in question could knock he pushed the button under his desk that automatically opened the door. What he says before him was no surprise. The lightly blue wavy hair was up in a messy bun and her eyes told the story something was up.

The girl spoke. “Sorry, Sir but you are needed on the front lines, The Kanto region as requested backup from all Pros in a 50 miles radius.” The girl spoke with such speed and clarity he was honestly impressed. “He gathered his thoughts quickly and cleared his throat before speaking “Thank you Melody I assume this is because of the recent gang-related violence.”

“Yes sir they seem to have taken multiple locations hostage and are asking for all pros to be bought before them.”

They both nodded in unions knowing this was some type of trap, but still, public safety was their number one concern. He gathered his gear and headed to the roof waiting for his transit to pick him up.

-----

Once he made his way to the first location he could see other familiar faces as other Pros glance his way. He simply nodded and took his place in line and observed the situation. The front of this building which looked like some kind of bank was barricaded with what looks like any furniture the gang out find. Police lights and helicopters danced over the reflective windows and he could see some moving shadows inside. He groaned the bright lights were not helping his headache and he pushed back the intensive thought that it may be getting worse. Within minutes the door opened and a figure approached the police line and shouted.

“Welcome to your doomsday hero's” The voice was amplified and bounded off the walls of the other building in complete clarity. Immediately all the Pros were on high alert. The gang was known for pulling stunts like this and failing their resolve to end hero society was strong.

The leader of the Pro's stepped forward. A man Todoroki had never had the pleasure of meeting but attended many meetings with. He had a teleportation-type quirk and was known as the multiplier.

“We have gathered as you said now let the hostages go and we can proceed.”

The figure laughed and pointed a weapon to the line of pros and spoke. “You call these Pros I bet I could take every one of them with my eyes closed, what happened to the good old days where only one could instill fear in the heart of us.”

Todoroki sighed he was tired of hearing this type of speech from gangs. But soon the man continued. “Why I see nothing but failed offspring of those who had all the power and look at them now all lined up ready to get executed.”

The words sparked something in Todoroki and he could feel his left side spark for a moment, he quickly stopped the flame and shook his head. But the man continued.

“Fine let the hostages go we have no use for them.” As the hostages were released comfort heroes quickly gathered them and took them aside to be evaluated and tend to any wounds they had received.

With a sudden crack, the pavement they stood on began to shake and crumble with lightning-fast reflexes all of the pros dispersed many activating their Quirk to stay grounded

Todoroki build a nice bridge a few feet off the ground and stood on it and watched as the earth opened up most likely a Quirk from one of the gang members still inside the building.

The chief commander spoke. “Is it a fight you want?”

The figure lowered its head as dark clouds began to gather over them the distant sound of thunder could be heard and as the figure raised it to head their eyes black and glazed over he simply stated “it’s time.” And the battle began.

Rain began to pour as the gang member-initiated his weather-type quirk and soon all of the pros were in a rainstorm. Todoroki wiped his hair from his eyes and set his eyes on the visual of the front of the building. Soon many members of the gang were beginning to exit the building activating their type of quirks and you could see a full battle was in store for him.

Todoroki hated heavy rain. He couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, and unless it was humid, made part of his quirk completely useless. Luckily, he still had some cover from the rain, but the strong wind and rain made him regret designing a sleeveless hero outfit.

Whatever. He didn’t have time to be cold. Todoroki knew he was in danger when a fist connected with his torso and he was knocked prone. As he gathered his vision again, he could see a short-haired man had him pinned to the ground and was getting covered in some type of grey substance he realized it was cement. He acted quickly and activated his fire to melt the thick substance and he soon kicked the gang member off himself and darted into the nearest alley to recover and rest. He knew he was bleeding when thick crimson began to block his vision.

Luckily for him, all of the pros combined with the strength and protection of others quickly defeated the gang, and what was a battlefield within minutes could be seen as a failed attempt to go back to their old ways where one hero was in charge.

---

He doesn’t remember how he got back to his agency he just remembered the bright fluorescent lights of their little medic and the white cotton sheets which were slowly turning red. He closed his eyes as he felt the healing power of one of his nurse’s power course through him and within seconds the pounding of his head lesson to a degree.

He sat up groggy and winced in pain as he could feel his muscles were sore and the congestion, he had been fighting back all-day shift in his face. The cheerful nurse he had hired spoke up “Well sir I’ve healed all of your injuries but overall, the battle was a success.”

He nodded and smiled a little he looked at the clock across the room and saw it was midafternoon he pushed himself off of the bed allowing his feet to connect with the floor and slowly walked back to his office.

Once he lowered himself in his chair, he took a minute to collect his thoughts however it was at that moment the itch decided to rear its head again and he found myself hunched over in a pre-sneeze limbo.

“Heh’Psh’ieww!!! Heh-ISHieww! hih’PSH! Hih’PSHH!!”

As the sneezes racked through his body, he felt the tight grip he normally has on his fire slip, and as he sneezed for a final time a rush of flame burst from the young Pro. Like his father, the flames licked the side of his face and his eye began to tear from the immense heat. As he looked at his arms, he could see the flame-resistant material struggling to stay intact, this flame was even hotter than his father's….as he sniffed and tied to gain control of his quirk, he heard a sound. He flicked his eyes over and saw the source of the noise.

A curly green-haired man was standing in his office with his mouth agape and was producing a sound that could only be described as a skipping record. Todoroki closed his eyes and put his head in his hands as he regained control of his quirk and said with a muffled voice.

“Hello, Midoriya.”

----

#Vic writes #sneeze #sneezy #snez #sneezefic #snezfic #bnha fic #bnha todoroki

[bau-baby]

the ultimate loss. 2/?

aaron hotchner x gn!reader

Summary: While you and Aaron are grieving the loss of Haley, an untimely realization comes up on your part after a night of consolation. Will anything come of it?

word count: 3k

warnings: grief, loss

A/N: Holy cannoli I am so sorry for how long this second installment took me!! Also the ending seems kind of rushed and it’s not the greatest, sorry! Now, onward with the story! 

read part one here

It has only been a few months since Haley’s service, and you have been at a loss. Ever since the time you and Aaron had together on that patio, something changed. Something that you couldn’t really put a finger on. Neither of you addressed it for fear of messing with things you weren’t ready to face. So you both did what you do best: ignore it.

You’ve filled your time with hours on the job, Aaron has been doing the same. You both merely dance around one another, not allowing your colleagues to pinpoint or figure out what happened. And if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t either. Hell, you weren’t sure Aaron knew what was going on, and he is one of the best profilers you have the pleasure of knowing. 

It’s another late night, early morning at Quantico. You’re burning the candle at both ends, losing sleep by the day. You blame it wholly on losing a friend, and sure that was the big, main reason, but you also know it’s a ploy to throw whatever it is that’s happening with you and Aaron out the window for a time.

After-action reports fill your time as the coffee keeps getting brewed and your pen isn’t running out of ink anytime soon. And you always love to think that this is your time away from Aaron, when in reality he’s right up the stairs, hunched over his desk just as you are. You saved your glances for when your hand got cramped or you needed a refill on coffee. What you don’t see was the glances he’d send your way while you were engrossed in the paperwork. 

You normally end up staying late at the office since you have a tendency to take some of the extra files from Aaron as well as the team so they could get home quicker.

You finish up a majority of your reports just before midnight, opting to take the unfinished ones home. You gather your finished files, making the short walk up to Aaron’s office before knocking. You hear him faintly say “It’s open,” and open the door.

“Hey Aaron, just wanted to drop these files off before heading home for the night. If you-” Your words die in your throat as you finally look at Aaron much closer. His eye bags were getting worse, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. “Are the nightmares still happening, Aaron?”

He knows there’s no use in lying, especially to you. He nods as he presses his pointer and middle finger to his temple, trying to alleviate the dull headache that hasn’t left him in so long. It was one of the only constant things in his life, outside of Jack and you.  With the headaches and the nightmares saddled on top of the grief, he hasn’t had true peace in months.

You tentatively take a seat at his desk and wait him out. You know that once he feels like talking, he will. He takes his time, twiddling his pen in between his thumb and pointer finger.

“I miss her. I left her at home with Jack almost every day, I was never there for his appointments or for his big milestones. I forced her to be a single mom when I could have easily just been there. I-” He stops, and you can see his eyes are brimmed with tears. You swallow the lump forming in your throat.

“Aaron, she loved you-” He scoffs, “-No, she really loved you. It tore her to pieces when she left, she just reached a point where she had to put Jack’s needs first. She still cared for you. The call I got the day you were admitted into the hospital told me enough,” You look down at your hands, trying to find the words, “You’re a great dad, Aaron. You do your best and right now that’s all anyone can ask for.” 

Aaron lets out a huff of breath and leans back in his chair. He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to lessen the pulsing headache still fully present. You only hope that your words made a difference, and you start to get up to leave.

“Wait. Please don’t go. I- I can’t stand being alone here anymore,” The admission makes your heart swell while simultaneously hurting for the broken man, and you settle back into your seat. Maybe finishing up the rest of your reports in the company of a friend wouldn’t be so bad after all.

-----

The late nights you and Aaron were pulling to keep each other company quickly transitioned to going home early to see Jack, still keeping each other’s grief at bay. Didn’t help that Jack was the sweetest kid on the planet, and one you definitely couldn’t say no to.

There were days where Aaron would just break down away from the watchful eyes of his son. He wanted to remain strong and not worry the young boy, but he knew Jack was hurting too, just as you were. Even if he was vulnerable with you at times, he still kept some walls up and held some feelings to his chest.

And Aaron would never tell you, but some days it was hard to even be in that apartment. The wall has been long since repaired, the bloodstains lifted from the carpet. But that didn’t remove the nightmares that haunted him every time he came home.

He could never forget the acrid smell of Foyet’s breath as he continuously taunted him, the knife driving into his abdomen. He couldn’t forget the fleeting memories that he surrounded himself with, a hopeful yet useless distraction as he was bleeding out on his apartment floor.

He couldn’t forget Foyet’s smile, his laugh that haunted Aaron’s deepest nightmares. 

Foyet’s words would come to him in flashes, always coming back to remind him of everything he lost.

“Do you know how much you have to study the human body to stab yourself repeatedly and not die? I don’t want to brag but I’m somewhat of an expert.”

The humor Foyet found in what he was saying was not ever lost on Aaron.

He always felt the ghost of the knife, cold metal gracing his abdomen that was slowly losing heat due to the blood blossoming around his still body.

“Do you wanna see my scars?”

The image of Foyet’s mangled abdomen was stamped into his brain, a fateful image that spoiled his sleep every night.

“Yours are gonna look just the same.”

And that they did. Aaron hated the scars that riddled his chest, the raised, gnarled skin always a reminder of his failure. He not only failed Haley, but his son that he swore to protect and give a good life. He ripped the life away from both of them. Haley would never see what Jack would become, and Jack would never remember the woman who gave her life to protect him.

No matter how much he trusted you, there was still that wall that held him back from telling you all of this. His rational brain told him that you’d help him work through it, but his trauma-riddled brain told him that he’d end up overwhelming you, even though you both lost the same person, she just had different emotional ties to both of you.

That call that you listened in on while racing to Fairfax was imprinted in your brain. You’d continually tried to tell yourself that you couldn’t change anything that happened, that you couldn’t save Haley. You couldn’t give Jack his mom back, and you couldn’t bring back Aaron’s closest friend. 

You knew it wasn’t right to blame yourself. You knew that Foyet had fooled all of you. That didn’t stop you from taking the blame, forcing yourself to relive the worst moment in your career, just to subject yourself to something you felt you could have prevented.

Jack wouldn’t have any memories of his own mother. You would just plant four years’ worth of stories as he grew up, telling him tales of how strong his mother was, and how she was the best thing that happened to his father.

Maybe these similar trains of thought are what led you to be knocking on Aaron’s door late at night. And maybe, that’s what led him to answer.

“Y/N? It’s so late, what’re you doing here?” The opened door revealed a distraught yet cozy Aaron, floppy hair and eye bags in all.

“Can I, uh, can I come in?” You remain composed, trying to regulate your breathing before you possibly could fly off the handle.

“Yeah, of course. Are you alright?” 

Now isn’t that the question of the hour, Aaron Hotchner? You aren’t really sure what you feel, so instead of answering, you walk over to his couch and sit. 

Aaron trails in behind you, two cups of coffee in his hand. You accept the cup, the ceramic mug already bringing life back into your hands. Aaron sits on the other side of the couch assuming the same position you are: a blank, grief-filled stare aimed at the table in front of you. The only sign of either of you being cognizant is your periodic sniffles. You don’t even realize you’re crying.

“I just miss her, you know?” The sentence comes through a wavered tone, and you hiccup through the tears. 

Aaron’s in a similar state, his red-rimmed eyes giving way to a tear-filled, “I know. I miss her too,”

A watery laugh leaves you, “Y’know, one time when I visited Haley, told me about how you two used to be. Before Jack, before…”

Before the divorce. Before she died.

“-just, before. She even gave me a little insight on your stint as Pirate #4 in Pirates of the Penzance,” A watery smile makes its way onto your face, and you hear Aaron huff out a sad laugh, shaking his head as he does so.

“I swore her to secrecy on that. She liked you, honestly. She loved how you were with Jack, and I can’t say that I don’t either. You being here, for us, is something we’ll always be grateful for. Thank you,” The sentence makes your heart swell, as more tears fall down your face. They’re full of grief, sadness, and a love you don’t catch onto right away, but when you do, you force that back down to whatever depths it came from.

You hear the feet padding across the floor before you see him.

“Y/N? Why are you crying?” Jack asks as he clambers up next to you and into your arms.

“Hey, bud, what’re you doing up? Your dad and I were just talking about your mom, and how much we miss her,” You say, rocking the boy as you hold him.

“I miss my mom too. Do you think we could talk to her?” He asks. You could hear how tired he is, and you look at Aaron.

Go ahead, his look says, and you stand up with Jack still in your arms. You pick up the candle and lighter on the way.

You lay Jack back in his bed, grabbing the picture of Haley off his dresser. You light the candle and hand it to him.

“Hi, momma. Y/N is here, and I miss you. I love you,” You continue to listen to the boy, but you can feel the tears pressing at the back of your eyes again. You can’t imagine what this four-year-old boy is going through, trying to understand why his mom isn’t coming home anymore.

You feel a certain pair of eyes on you from the doorway of Jack’s room, and you see Aaron watching you and Jack. He’s got this soft, sullen smile on his face as he hears Jack recount his days since he’s last talked to Haley. Soon enough, the four-year-old runs out of steam and says goodbye, blowing out the candle. You reach over, tucking the covers up to his chin, and tell him goodnight.

You walk out to see Aaron sitting on the couch again, his elbows resting on his knees, hands covering his face. You sit with him until the early morning light washes over the DC skyline, sunlight peeking into the windows. You both laugh, cry, and sit in silence as you talk about whatever, but the topic keeps coming back to Haley.

“Well, if I want to make it to the building on time, I better go back to my apartment and change,” You say as you get up to grab your shoes that have long since been forgotten, as well as your keys and such. “Oh, I didn’t even notice the time. See you at work,” He says, getting up off the couch too.

“Bye, Aaron. See you at work,” You give him a soft smile, and make your exit.

Aaron doesn’t make light of this, but seeing you leave after the night he spent commiserating with you, made him miss it more than he thought he would. The freshness of it all, the connection you shared with mutual grief, was something he never thought he’d get out of his job.

-----

When you step into the bullpen, you’re the first one there for once. Fresh clothes and a rejuvenated heart puts a small pep in your step, even on no sleep.  After the night of vulnerability you shared with Aaron, you felt refreshed, if only a little tired. 

For the sake of making sure you actually stay awake, you make two cups of coffee. Made one cup just how you like it, leaving the other one black. You set your cup down at your desk, climbing the stairs up to Aaron’s dark office. You turn on his desk lamp, setting the coffee down. You knew he wasn’t too far behind you when coming to the office, it was only a matter of time before he walked out of the elevator. 

When Aaron finally makes it to the bullpen, he sees you already cutting into the reports he left on everyone’s desks the night before. He practically floats to his office, his lack of sleep starting to catch up to him. When he opens the door, he sees the coffee mug at his desk, a sticky note attached to it. Very familiar handwriting fills the note. 

Thought we could both use some coffee after our late night. 

You know where I am if you need anything, old man. 

Sincerely, 

A very concerned friend :)

Aaron just shakes his head at the note, a smile he’s not used to filling his face. He looks through the window out into the bullpen to find you with an equally facetious smile on your face. 

That’s when it all comes crumbling down for you. The realization hits you as you turn back to your work, and you have to slow your breathing so as to not worry anyone else making their way to their desks. 

Fuck. 

You’re in love with your boss. 

You’re in love with Aaron Hotchner. 

You could not have worse timing, you realize. He just lost his wife, you just lost a friend. Neither of you should be open to dating. He isn’t open to dating, and you’d be damned if you were too.

You were never known for your timeliness, but this is a whole other level of bad.

 What are you supposed to do? There’s no handbook, nothing to tell you what you’re supposed to fall in love with your divorced boss who just lost his ex-wife. And there shouldn’t be, you’re being careless. 

It’s normal for people in grief to come together, and after a loss people make strides to fill that gap. That’s all you're doing. You don’t actually feel this way about him. 

That’s what your profiling tells you, but you don’t try to reason with it. No amount of reasoning can fix this. You’re screwed, and you know it.

That’s why you make a vow to yourself- right there in the bullpen. 

You are not going to let this get too far too fast, and you are not going to scare this man away. He is your boss first, friend second, and lover will never make that list if you keep up this fast train of realizations and possible confessions.

You get saved from your rabbit hole as you hear Reid and Morgan walk into the bullpen, talking about whatever those two can talk about at 8 AM. You just shake your head at their antics.

Those two really are like brothers.

Slowly, the rest of the team trickles in, and you’re expected for a day of paperwork when JJ flashes a file at you. Seems like you won’t your day of reprieve, but if you’re honest with yourself, you’re glad.

On top of the Aaron Revelations™, It’s been really hard these past few weeks without Haley. You usually went over to see Jack and her often, talking and laughing over some glasses of wine. Now, you just... don’t have that.

But, all that aside, you have a case.

So you put the pieces of yourself back together, compose yourself, and take a breath.

You can do this.

-----

You can’t do this.

You did fine on the case, and you know that. You remained composed, and kept your head on straight. That doesn’t change your realization, nor does it settle your feelings. Professionalism is at the forefront of your mind as you settle into your seat on the jet. Aaron sits next to you like always, and you school your expression for most of the flight, but that didn’t stop your brain from going faster than light.

You lean your head against the window, and hope against hope that everything- every feeling, every thought- would just leave you. They didn’t, but you welcome the sleep that comes like an unknown force.

When you wake, you smell Aaron’s cologne. You’re groggy, and it takes you a minute to realize that his suit jacket rests across your upper body. 

“You looked cold, just thought I’d help,” Aaron says, not looking up from his file.

That man never stops working.

“Thanks, Hotch,” You say, sleep still laced through your words. You get lost in the moment, the familiarity of it all sinking into your bones. You smile blissfully, sleep consuming your conscious again

You just miss the small smile Aaron gives you after your eyes close, sleep taking your body again.

#the ultimate loss #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader fluff #aaron hotchner angst #soft hotch #it’s a sad fic #but it’s also cute