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runa-falls · 9 months

Text

reciprocation

part 1 | part 3

pairing: best friend!steven grant x reader

cw: smut (18+), fwb relationship, PWP, face sitting, mutual-pining but their idiots so..., 69, cumming untouched, cum eating.

w/c: 3.4k of SMUT AHHH

a/n: ignore how this is suddenly typed with capital letters :0. THIS ONE IS FOR MY FAVORITE STEVEN ANON WITH THE 69 REQUEST FROM A MONTH AGO -- i'm sorry it took so long 🫠

also special shout out for @whatthefishh for reading over it like half-a-month ago 😭🙏🏻 i was going through a major writers block :^)

masterlist

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“Are you sure about this?” You watch him warily from a few feet away, shifting from side to side.

Steven is laid back on the bed patiently waiting for you, hair fluffy and soft under him. You can tell he’s been thinking about this for a while now, eager to start.

His voice is soft as he appraises the timid energy surrounding you, “I’m sure. I want it–you. I promise.” For once, Steven seems to be the least nervous between the two of you. You're not used to him being in charge or even initiating anything remotely affectionate, let alone sexual. “Do…you?”

You can already see the prominent outline of his erection pressing sweetly against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. No matter how loose and comfortable he dresses, he can never manage to hide his need for you.

“I do, but I just… don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” You wring your hands together, still unsure if you should approach him.

Steven looks at you with trusting eyes, “You won’t hurt me, darling.” His comforting words help you relax a little, almost making you forget what you agreed to, what you’re so apprehensive to attempt. He offers you a hand and you take it, letting him pull you closer and guide you onto his lap.

His voice lowers as desire drips from his lips, “Though, even if you did,” His dark eyes look up to meet yours, pure need bleeding through the gaze. You eagerly drink it in, body buzzing on top of him with flustered energy. “I think I’d be okay with it…” Your breath hitches.

You know it’s true. Steven has never shied away from pain; he even invites it in the heat of the moment. He likes to be under your control, letting you use his body to drive him crazy, even if it means teasing and denying him until he’s sobbing under you.

He loves seeing the possessive marks you leave when he wakes up in the morning, fingers ghosting over them as the night before replays in his mind, or feeling the residual sting of scratches down his torso when he takes a shower, letting the warm water draw out the sensations until he’s hard and aching for you again, and he has to seek you out, hoping you'll notice him.

You regularly get carried away, so desperate to have all of him, that you don’t even realize how intensely you devour his eagerness to please you. But Steven is more than happy to indulge your hungry advances.

He especially loves it when you soothe him after, lightly kissing each bruise and mark as you whisper sweet words, apologizing for how rough you got.

He takes it with a shy smile, basking in your affections and your gentle touch, sighing as he’s surrounded by your energy, by your undivided attention.

Sometimes he likes to pretend like you're his, like you're doing this because you love him, not because you think you're being a good friend.

It's not hard for him to imagine it when he closes his eyes, especially when you're moaning around his cock or grabbing his neck to pull him into a desperate kiss.

But when it's all over, when he's pulling his jeans back on -- still thrumming with heat -- the spell breaks and you go back to being just friends.

Now, he's going to pleasure you. Make you feel the euphoria of his mouth, so you'll want him just as much as he wants you. This is his form of reciprocation for all the favors you've given him. And he hopes it will convince you that he'd be a good lover for you. That you could be more than just friends with him.

He lets out a hushed, “Please,” as he leans into you, enticing you to follow him and capture his lips hungrily.

Steven knows exactly what he’s doing when he uses that tone, that soft shade of himself that can bring you to your knees even when he’s falling apart harder and faster than you are.

You moan against his pouty lips, feeling the softness, his gentle press, you pull him closer, eager to deepen the kiss. He lets you have control over him, merely following you as you slide your tongue against his, delicately tasting you, tenderly holding you by your waist.

Steven is always gentle with you, no matter how clouded his mind gets during these heated moments, no matter how lost in pleasure he gets or how desperately he needs you, he always handles you with delicate care.

You nip at his bottom lip, drinking in his soft mewl as you start to roll your hips against him. His grip on your waist tightens, holding you more insistently against him, letting you feel how desperately he needs you.

His lips are pink and plump when you pull away, parted ever so slightly as he stares between your bodies, working your body over him. His eyes are glazed as he cants his hips to chase the exquisite feeling of your soft center against him.

You tease him, lifting yourself just enough that he can’t grind himself against you. He whines when he can’t feel you anymore, gripping your waist with frustration.

“Love, please!”

You break the kiss and climb off of him, appreciating how ruined he looks from a few kisses and light grinding. He huffs out a breath in frustration, hands fisting with the need to touch you. To have you close.

You stand next to the bed, hair in disarray, fiddling with the hem of your large shirt to garner his attention. His bronze gaze soaks over you, flashing dark when it meets the short hem of your pajama bottoms.

“Your shorts, p-please, take them off.” It’s not a demand, Steven doesn’t make demands, it’s a request, a plea, one that you’ve heard time and time again, and have seldom refused.

Your fingers find the waistband of your shorts and drag them down until they’re pulled the rest of the way off with the help of gravity. A breathy sigh can be heard under you when you step away from the pooled clothing, leaving you in an oversized t-shirt that barely brushes at the top of your thighs.

It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time – he’s always like this.

His eyes sparkle as you shuffle closer to the bed. “Come’ere, darling.” He pats his chest, “Right here.” You timidly crawl over him, delicately straddling his chest, legs parted just above his ribs. Your knees pull in towards each other, trying to hide what your shirt can’t cover, but you don’t get far before warm fingers pry you apart.

“Show me.” It’s a bare whisper, as light as his touch gliding over the outer sides of your legs.

You reluctantly let yourself relax on him, hands gripping his soft shirt, wrinkling the fabric. Heat prickles under your skin as he cranes his neck to look at you, lashes nearly brushing the tops of his cheeks with how lustfully heavy his eyelids are. He takes that moment to breathe you in, devouring every inch of what you’re offering.

His touch disappears from your thighs, and you hear quiet ruffling behind you, then a broken groan under you. You look over your shoulder and spot his hand pressing desperately against his covered hardness.

“S-Steven…” He doesn’t stop his actions when he meets your eyes, utterly shameless with his need for you.

“Beautiful.”

His breaths become heavy, and his chest moves deliciously under you, right against your hot center. You attempt to squeeze your legs together, hoping to abate the intensifying sensations, but you can’t, his chest keeps you spread, open, and quivering just for his eyes.

Steven is barely touching you, but even the slightest hint of pleasure has you craving him.

You can’t help but close your eyes as you subtly shift over him, drinking in his soft grunts as he continues to touch himself under you. It makes you throb with heat.

Steven watches you suck your lip into your mouth to hold in wanton moans as you experimentally slide against his firm chest, hands pressing into him to support your movements.

Your initial timidness crumbles as you roll your hips over him again and your head tilts back as you begin to lose yourself in the way your clit presses so perfectly against him.

Steven’s gentle voice cuts through the carnal fog infesting your brain and pulls you back to reality. “Sit up higher for me.” His hands are back on you, urging you to scoot up. “Let me taste you – L-let me fuck you with my tongue.” You press your dripping center to his shirt-covered torso with a soft moan, feeling the small spot right in between his ribs where you’ve soaked through. “Please, baby?”

You nod wordlessly, letting him guide your body until you’re hovering over his face. Your body shivers as you feel his warm breath brush against your center.

It’s a bit daunting looking at Steven from here. His face is nestled right in between your thighs – which is not an unusual sight – but this time you are on top. You can barely see his eyes since your shirt is so big it practically drapes over half of his face. What if you suffocate him or break his neck?

“Maybe… we should rethi-” A gasp falls from your lips as strong arms pull you down to his face. “Steven!-” Without hesitation, wet heat laps at the seam of your cunt, greedily dragging over any slick that threatens to drip down your inner thigh.

Your words are effectively stuck in your throat as Steven begins to eagerly nip and suck at your softness, drawing out deep whines instead of coherent sentences. You can only hold on to the headboard to support yourself, holding back your urge to grind against his supple lips.

You moan as Steven tentatively nudges against your entrance, laving his tongue over the sensitive opening just to tease you. When he finally pushes into you, you have to hold yourself back from grinding against him like you’re riding his cock. He licks and thrusts his tongue into you, humming at your taste as you drip over his lips, down his chin.

Your hips uncontrollably buck against him as his tongue flicks at your clit. A hand drops into his hair, tugging frantically at the ends before pushing him further against you, begging – no, demanding for more. He gets the memo and focuses on your most sensitive bud, delicately suckling it until your thighs are trembling by his ears.

A ball of heat quickly blooms in your lower stomach and flushes under your skin. Familiar sparks of energy thrum up your spine, enticing you to clench around nothingness with promises of unspoken bliss and ecstasy.

Calloused fingers lift you away from the molten heat of his mouth just as you were reaching your climax. You’re gasping for a breath as Steven holds you back from toppling off the edge.

You can feel it, his breath, barely ghosting a sigh over your center, and somehow, even that slightest brush of air has you pulsing helplessly over him. He’s breathing as hard as you are, mouth glossy and plump as he stares back up at you, face flushed, and eyes glazed.

Utterly pussy-drunk.

Your grip on the headboard tightens intensely and your eyes roll shut. You can’t stop it.

A stilted cry rips from your throat as your orgasm suddenly rushes over you in full force, crashing over you like a wave. Steven can only watch, lips parted in awe, as you shatter completely untouched right above him.

His fingers grip harsh bruises into the skin of your thighs as he feels himself throb dangerously close to his own euphoric end. You moan harder at the tender marks he paints on your trembling legs. The sharp feeling travels up your legs and straight to your center.

His hands rub your thighs comfortingly, apologetically, before he starts to drag his tongue over your messy center with a hum, doting on you with kitten licks that make you shiver.

He cleans you up slowly and methodically, making sure to avoid your most sensitive area. Your body still thrums from your unexpected and intense orgasm, and his soft licks quickly become too much, even with how light and sweet he is being.

You lift yourself away from his tongue, “S-steven…no more. It’s too much!”

“You can do it again, darling…” He coos, trying to pull you back down onto his mouth. “Just one more. For me, please?”

You're head is fuzzy as you steady yourself on top of him, gripping the headboard tightly to ground yourself from the lingering sparks of mind-numbing pleasure.

Steven groans as he watches you struggle to get a grip.

“C-can’t. It’s too much…” You get off of his face and sit next to him on the bed, squeezing your legs together to suppress the bout of overstimulation that almost overtook your senses.

You look down at him when one of his hands wraps around your thigh and squeezes, a simple act indulgence that drives you crazy. Your lips part as you take in the view.

Puffy lips and glassy eyes, blown out with lust, meet your stare, begging you to climb back on, but you're still shaking where you sit. He's drenched in your slick from his chin to his neck and the collar of his shirt is soaked through, sticking sweetly to his chest.

Your eyes drift down to his sweatpants, to the prominent bulge that throbs under your gaze. He palms himself, whining lightly at the feeling of his neediness and desperation. He's so hard, begging for your touch without even saying a word.

“Okay, now it's your turn.”

His shakes his head, “No, I want more.”

“Steven…”

“Please, I want to taste more of you."

"But--" Your eyes dip down to his covered erection that you've been neglecting all night.

"Just...come back, we can do it at the same time if you want.”

Your face heats at the implication. You don’t know why you’re so coy, you just came right above his fact. You've just never seen Steven like this: so insistent and hungry.

“S-sure, ok.”

You whimper when he eagerly tugs you closer, urging you to straddle his face again. Careful to not knock your knee into his cheek, you swing your leg back over his body, but this time you situate yourself so you can take care of him at the same time.

He immediately dives back in, tongue thrusting into your sensitive channel before you're even settled on top of him. You falter and almost collapse over him, hand grasping at the bottom of his shirt for support.

"Steven! Gentle, please!" You groan out, eyes already threatening to roll back as he continues to drink you in. He hums in response, but doesn't actually let up, if anything, he becomes more insatiable, suckling every stimulus point until you're shaking above him.

You struggle against your pleasure to pull his sweats down, freeing his cock from the restraining fabric. Your mouth waters as his tip weeps for you, spilling silky precum with every breath he takes.

You've always loved Steven's cock. How responsive it is when your breath ghosts over it and how it desperately throbs for you as you swallow around him. How perfectly it fits in your mouth and how deep it can fuck your throat when he allows himself to let go.

Sucking his cock was the furthest you allowed yourself to go. You convinced yourself that these one-sided interactions would keep you from revealing your feelings, that you could deal with the friends-with-benefits bit if you didn't have an actual 'relationship'.

So you deemed actual sex as too intimate and barred letting him touch you (you just weren't sure you could handle it).

But then one thing led to another...

You failed to reject his soft kisses and couldn't resist marking him up like he's yours. And now here you are barely able to handle it as he fucks you with his tongue, hands gripping marks into your thighs as his nose nudges against your wet center.

You don't know if you could go back to just being friends when he's given you unfathomable pleasure. When he talked to you like this. Looked at you like this.

You're a mess and you're struggling to hold on to your original plan.

You try to block these thoughts from your mind as your hand wraps around his cock, squeezing it gently just to get a reaction out of him. He groans against your cunt, movements stuttered as your touch distracts him away from his task.

You unconsciously sit up on your knees and lift your hips off of his mouth to get closer to his cock. Steven barely notices, too focused on holding his orgasm off as you diligently taste him, one lick at a time.

You drag your tongue up his shaft, licking the precum that slowly cascades over his silken skin. You feel his body quake as you lave and kitten lick against his tip, gently coaxing shortened breaths and whimpers with every touch.

You dip down to engulf him into your hot mouth, enjoying the slick feeling of his cock gliding easily against your tongue and the top of your mouth.

His hands frantically latch onto your upper thighs, unintentionally pulling you back onto his mouth as he squeezes at the softness, desperately attempting to control himself.

He has to actively keep his hips from snapping against your face, you just feel so sublime, so soft and hot.

Steven cries against your cunt when he reaches the back of your throat. He can't help it when he feels you struggle to swallow around him, so tight, wet, and hot. He's just so sensitive -- especially when it comes to you.

You keep laving your tongue against the underside of his cock as you suck him in, ignoring the your jaw begins to ache as you open wide for him.

"Uhh!" His stomach tenses under you and he twitches against your tongue.

He can't be cumming already...right?

Fingers grip into your hair and you're suddenly pushed down, forced to take him down your throat. You choke slightly, eyes watering, before letting yourself relax against him.

He's lost in pleasure, grinding and thrusting his cock into your mouth like it's your cunt, shoving it deeper than you're usually comfortable with and you let him.

Steven spurts warmth at the back of your throat. You try your best to swallow it down before it dribbles from your mouth and makes a mess. He whimpers as he fully lets go, thighs tense and trembling under your touch.

He's still cumming when he tugs you back onto his mouth, feverishly lapping through your center before taking your clit between his lips. You orgasm explosively as he avidly sucks you in, already half-way there from the mere feeling of him spilling in your mouth.

Even after he has emptied himself, he continues to gently fuck your face, not yet ready to leave your warmth. His hips stutter and his breaths become uneven but he ignores the overstimulation, too attached to this closeness, to this illusion of mutual affection.

He also continues to lick you clean, despite your whines of discomfort. He lovingly places gentle kisses against your inner thigh, wishing he could stay in this position forever.

He huffs out disappointedly when you climb off of him, even tries to lock his arms around your legs to keep you there, but you were adamant to get away from his insatiable mouth.

"One more?"

You gape at him, "Steven, we already did 'one more'." You shiver, suddenly cold without his body against yours. "What has gotten into you? I've never seen you so...horny before."

He looks at you sheepishly, "I dunno. I guess, once I got a taste I wanted more." He sits up, hand wiping your slick off his face. "How 'bout later?"

"You're already thinking about later?"

He nods, "I'm always thinking about you."

Your heart thumps painfully in your chest as blood heats your face. You try to ignore it. Try not to look directly at him. Try to pretend like he didn't just say that because he probably doesn't even understand the impact that his words have on you.

He's always thinking about your favors. That's it.

"Later, then."

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant smut #moon knight

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tarjapearce · 9 months

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I don’t know if your requests are open but if they don’t you can totally ignore this, but I got and idea for the soccer family, what about gabi founding a photo book of her parents wedding like it would be so adorable 😭😭😭🫶🫶🫶

Oohh Unlocking memories 🥹♥️

word of the day:

Oeillade: Amorous or suggestive glance ✨

Everyone in the O'Hara household knew that the last Sunday of every month was deep cleaning day. Meaning, throwing things away, donating clothes that none really used, recycling, declutering and dancing to hispanics songs.

It was Gabi's turn to decluter the library. She pulled out coloring books that were no longer usable, old text books from previous grades, some old draws and inked paper. However she found a thick and leathery clip book with the title "Our Wedding Mr. & Mrs. O'Hara"

Gabi gasped and pulled out the book, removing the dust from it's delicate surface. She marveled at the first picture.

You in a lovely white dress, looking back at Miguel, he gave you an oiellade back, holding one of your hands delicately, a soft yet genuine smile on his face. He wore a black tuxedo. The picture was 12 years old. Just like Gabi's age.

She flipped the page and another picture of you both cutting the cake was shown, she could recognize some people in some pictures. Uncle Gabriel wearing a suit, and an emerald green bow around his neck, raising his glass of champagne as he had the mic.

Uncle Peter doing a goofy grin as he held the mic and pointing at Miguel, as if telling a funny story as you covered your face in embarrassment. She could recognize her aunties, MJ and Jessica, laughing on the side.

Gabi chuckled and flipped another page. Some photos were blurry, but her eyes stopped on a new one. You and Miguel holding hands at the altar, little bashful smiles on both your faces. He held you with love and attentiveness. Nothing much had changed between the two of you.

"Solecito, es hora de comer." (Supper time, sunshine)

Miguel however stopped and chuckled with fondness at the book.

"Where did you find this?"

"In the library, was cleaning up. You and Mama looked pretty"

Miguel smiled and scooted her closer as he inspected the photos.

"Uncle Peter has always been-"

"A doof? yeah. He was telling the story of how me and your Mama danced in one of his parties."

"Uncle Peter threw parties?!"

"Yeah, he did. But eventually just turned into closed one gatherings." He smiled at the first picture Gabi saw. The same look on his face.

"How long have you been together with Mama?"

"How old are you?"

Gabi gasped and giggled

"That much?!"

"Claro. No le digas a tu mami, pero sabes cómo solía llamarla?" (Of course. Don't tell mommy but do you know how I used to call her?)

Gabi giggled and shook her head.

"How?"

"Promise me you won't tell her? You'll get in trouble if you do."

Gabi made the zipper gesture on her lips and Miguel nodded.

"I used to call her Pitufina."

Gabi laughed but Miguel shushed her.

"Pitufina? why?"

"Dunno. It came to me at the moment she stood in a chair to try and get some cups above the fridge."

"She still does that."

Miguel nodded with affection.

"Did she call you something?"

"Dracula"

Your voice echoed from behind them with a knowing smirk. Miguel gave an airy chuckle

"Can you believe him? He tried to open a bottle lid's with his teeth!"

Gabi laughed.

"He still does that too!"

"I could never get rid of that habit."

You kissed Miguel and smooched Gabi on the forehead.

"Food's done. Come eat! Benjamin is beating you all in finishing first."

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #t writes✨#soccer family ⚽🕷️#gabi o'hara #wife reader

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dottores · 9 months

Text

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, theta hurts reader but only a little, this was not edited sorry for mistakes 😭

notes: alrighty guys, this is officially the last chapter of the regular schedule—after this one, updates are going to be sporadic but they will at the very least be monthly. wish i could keep up the schedule but its not going to be feasible considering i start law school this upcoming wednesday </3 i'll update the masterlist to reflect the change too

SPIT IN MY FACE

“Excuse me?”

The masked man—had Gamma called him Theta?—kept a tight grip on your wrist, holding it up in front of you so he could look at it himself. He was stronger than he looked, you tried to rip your wrist out of his hold but failed. His nails dug into your skin in response to the attempt, drawing blood. You grimaced as you watched a thin line of red seep down your forearm.

“You heard me.” Theta’s smile didn’t budge as his other hand came up to grab your chin, turning your head away from where Kappa was still buried in the crook of your neck to face him. “Was he trying to keep you hidden away or were you trying to hide from us?”

He wasn’t looking at your hand. He was looking at your finger or more specifically… where your thread was hanging from it, leading off somewhere to the left of you wherever Dottore was. You remembered how Kappa had looked down at your hand curiously before deciding to come over to you, the way he was so at ease with you for no reason. And Gamma. Gamma had looked at your hand before he started panicking and ran off.

Could they… see it?

“Hm?” Theta’s nails dug into your cheeks now, just like how he had with the aristocrat—you didn’t even know where they went, if they had taken the opportunity to flee or if he had done something to immobilize them, you couldn’t turn your head to check. You grimaced as you felt his nails break skin again. “Answer me.”

How was that possible?

You could all but taste the poison in his words, the impatience and the frustration. You were at a loss as to how to proceed—your arms were tied up with Kappa, one of your hands was stuck in his and he was forcing you to look at him, and that unhinged look in his red eyes was causing your brain to fog with fear.

Think. You had to think. You had to free your wrist from his hand. You had to get back to your room, or to Pantalone’s.

Where was Pantalone? Livid, you realized that the man was probably still listening in on the show, not getting involved, leaving you to deal with this unstable bastard.

Think. What did he want to hear? What would make him settle down at least enough to loosen his grip on you?

But how the hell were you supposed to know what he wanted you to hear? Even with just the way he spat out those two questions, you knew both answers were wrong and would set him off more. But you had to say something, the longer you went without answering his question, the more his eyes flamed with impatience—you didn’t want to know what would happen when that thin thread of patience snapped.

“I came here, didn’t I?” you asked quietly. You tried to relax your shoulders and upper body, exuding a type of faux-comfort with the man. “I came looking for you.”

Theta’s red eyes narrowed with suspicion, watching you carefully—his grip did not waver, much to your distress.

“You don’t even know who I am,” he said coldly, speaking the one truth you’d hoped he wouldn’t. His grip on your wrist tightened and his nails dug deeper into your cheeks. “I hate liars.”

“I’m not lying,” you told him, grimacing as his nail dragged against your skin. Kappa shifted in your arms, bristling, you couldn’t tell if he was watching or not. “You can see the thread, no? I may not fully understand how you can see it but the fact that you can speaks enough.”

Theta hesitated, the corner of his lip dipping in doubt as he tried to decide whether or not he thought you were lying. You watched with bated breath, tongue kissing the inside of your teeth, as a flurry of emotions rushed through his eyes ranging from anger to hesitancy and hope. Then his eyes hardened, decision made, and your heart sunk to your stomach.

“Liar.”

Again, his grip tightened but it was painful now and your body begged you to pull away or do something but he was stronger than you. He forced you closer to him, turning you so that if Kappa wasn’t between you, you would’ve been chest-to-chest with him. You wondered if you should let him go, let him flee somewhere safe, but he was still clutching your shirt.

Theta leaned in close, you could feel his breath hot against your cheek and the cool ceramic of his mask nudging against your skin where his nose would have been. You grit your teeth together as you felt something warm and wet press against the skin of your cheek where his nails had broken through, lapping at the blood.

Your face felt hot, anger and humiliation curdling your blood as Theta let out a puff of amused laughter against your skin.

“You taste like a liar too,” Theta crooned. “Lambda thinks you’re a fake sent to distract us. Are you a fake, little liar?”

Us. He kept saying us but you don’t know what that meant or how it was possible—they could see the thread but as far as you could tell, they did not have a connecting one. You had never seen anything like that before, nor had you ever read about anything like that.

You thought you should say something but your mind was reeling as you tried to piece together the puzzle and figure out what was going on.

But before you could do or say anything, Kappa squirmed and twisted in your arms, hanging over you to whack his small fist hard against Theta’s mask—with more strength than you expected from the boy.

Theta grunted stumbling back—he wasn’t hurt but the force of Kappa’s swing had partially knocked his mask off, revealing thick scars similar to the ones you had seen on Gamma. He fumbled trying to straighten out the mask and as he did, you whirled around to rush to your room.

You didn’t get far.

Not because of Theta, who was cursing as he fastened the mask back on, but because you slammed right into someone else’s chest, broad and dressed in dark clothes. You glanced up as a pair of gloved hands grabbed your waist, irritation rising at Pantalone’s thin, close-eyed smile. You wondered if you had passed or failed whatever test he expected from this situation.

The pads of his fingers pressed into your waist as he shifted you over to the side and behind him, leveling his attention on Theta as the man straightened back, narrowed eyes still trained on you instead of the Harbinger.

“Theta.” Venom dripped from Pantalone’s words as he spoke his name. “I suggest you make your way back to the Doctor’s labs instead of bothering my guest.”

“Your?” Theta spat out, taking a step forward. His eyes were wild again now, far gone from the hardened look he had directed toward you after he made his decision. You stiffened, watching as Pantalone lifted his chin, raising his eyebrows, challenging Theta. “She is not your anything, banker. Go back to counting your coins and sucking noble cock to get further in the world, stay out of our business.”

Pantalone, to his credit, did not look bothered by the dig—the only sign of anger was the way his lip twitched before he spoke: “Take it up with your maker, fraud. You have no authority here, you are not the Doctor.”

“I am-”

Sharp and loud, Theta’s voice rang up and down the hall as he took two long steps forward as if to attack Pantalone but the Harbinger only let out a huff of amusement as he cut Theta off mid-shout.

“I am not one of the subordinates who you can fool into believing you are him. You are a rabid dog running a thin line between life and death. It is only a matter of time before you’re put down, I again suggest you leave before I make that day come sooner.”

You thought that you shouldn’t feel anything for the man standing a few paces away but something deep in you clenched when Theta drew back as if he’d been physically slapped, red eyes wide with shock. The feeling did not last long though because as quick as the hurt appeared, it was gone, twisting into something far more sinister as a wide smile spread across his lips, teeth bared much like the rabid dog Pantalone claimed him to be.

“You think you can kill me?”

Something manic stained his words, deranged and challenging as if he meant for Pantalone to back his words right then and there. Theta did not have a vision, not one that you could see or feel at least, but you knew in your bones that he was far, far more dangerous than he looked—he was strong and he moved faster than any visionless human you’d ever seen. Briefly, you wondered if he even was hu-

Pantalone stepped forward and the air around the four of you crackled with an energy that made your skin crawl. You let out a shaky breath, eyes widening as you took a step away from the man, unconsciously trying to get away from the source of the energy, an unnatural and uncomfortable feeling spreading through you.

What is that?

It felt sick. Corrupted. The air tasted stale and rotted as it seeped down the halls like poison. Your vision was reacting in response to it, the purity of the hydro energy trying to repel the new, malefic energy but it was curling all around you, trying to find chinks in the thin shield your vision was providing you from the decay.

You had to get away from it but your feet were rooted to the ground, watching the scene play out before you. Neither Theta nor Pantalone looked bothered by the energy—in fact, Theta looked thrilled, eyes alight as his impossibly wide smile widened even more, a giggle slipping from his lips as he raised his hand as if to summon something, but before he could snap his fingers, his eyes dulled and his knees hit the ground hard. Almost like he had been turned off, just like that.

What-

At once, the energy around Pantalone dissipated and you could move, confusion riddling your mind as you tried to figure out what happened to Theta and what that disgusting energy was. You took a step forward, eyes wide and trained on Theta first—was that Pantalone’s doing? But as you turned to look at him, your gaze caught sight of a figure down the hall.

Dottore.

You were bleeding.

Dottore could feel his cheeks stinging but he hadn’t been sure what it was until he got to the hall in Pantalone’s wing where Gamma had left you. Theta was on the ground, empty-eyed and still, turned off courtesy of Dottore, and Pantalone was standing to the side of you, seemingly unimpressed by the whole situation.

But you were looking at him, and only him, and he could only focus on you, eyes tracing the blood as it dripped down your cheeks to your neck, dribbling down your skin. With creased brows and lips pressed together tightly, he couldn’t tell if the look you were directing toward him was suspicion or anger or something else entirely. The only thing he could feel from you was what he assumed were the remnants of the confrontation with Theta: fear, anxiety, skepticism, confusion, disgust.

Disgust, was that directed toward him or Theta or both of them? It didn’t sit well with him. He wondered how much Theta had told you, and he wondered how much you’d been able to piece together from what he had. Dottore had been hoping to keep the existence of the segments a secret from you.

The last thing he wanted to have to do was get into depth about what they were because if he knew you even half as well as he thought he did, he knew it would turn into an interrogation of all that he’d been up to with his research. Even when you were young, when the third phase of the bond had first manifested, he had to be careful about what he was thinking about so that it wasn’t transcribed to you. Countless times he received words from you that could have only been originally given by him: the names of the segments, residue, deactivate, and Dottore knew that you must be taking every word he sent you to relentlessly research into them.

“Doctor,” Pantalone finally drawled as Dottore came to a stop in front of them, forcing his attention away from you just for a second. “It’s about time that you’ve leashed your mad dog, I’m quite tired of dealing with him.”

Dottore didn’t acknowledge his words. Instead, he focused his attention back onto you—the only apparent wounds were the deep scratch marks on your cheek and wrist, painful but mostly superficial. It would heal in a few days at most, he would pass along an ointment to Pantalone so he could give it to you to speed along the healing process.

The issue for Dottore laid in the boy tucked neatly in your arms, hiding his face against your skin.

The Kappa segment.

Dottore exhaled. That would be trouble trying to handle. The Kappa segment was skittish and nervous. He usually only stuck around Epsilon, Iota or Gamma, he even tried to avoid the other segments if he could. Dottore had a feeling that it was because they reminded him of their father but he couldn’t be sure.

Either way, he had never latched onto someone like this before and Dottore had a feeling it would be an issue trying to get him away from you. He didn’t like shutting down the younger segments—or any of the segments for that matter because it tended to mess with their wiring—but he thought he might have to in order to get the kid back to the estate without alerting the entire palace to your presence and relationship to him.

His eyes lingered on you, only for a few more moments, watching the way you held Kappa close, arms wrapped around him tightly as if to shield him from danger. Kappa seemed like he was on the verge of dozing off, his shoulders rising and falling steadily—he’d never seen him so comfortable with someone that wasn’t Epsilon before. Something unfamiliar tightened his chest. Longing? Desire? Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.

He looked away sharply, finally turning his attention to Pantalone.

“Regrator, don’t act as if you spend all of your free time reluctantly handling my segments. You are usually asking for them, in fact,” Dottore said dryly. He barely spared you another look as he said: “I’ll handle this. Go back to your room and rest.”

Your face twisted and Dottore bit back a sigh, realizing that round three of his war of words with you was about to begin.

“I am not a child,” you shot back, voice tight. “You can’t just send me to my room. I have questions and you will give me answers now. I’ve waited long enough.”

Dottore had a feeling that you were not just talking about the past few hours. You were talking about the decade he had spent ignoring your existence. Unfortunately for you, he had no interest in answering your questions, not now or ever.

He turned his attention back to Pantalone, ignoring the furious look that spread across your face at being blatantly ignored. Luckily—or unluckily, time would tell—Epsilon stepped in. He watched as your brows dipped in suspicion, looking between Epsilon and Dottore warily. If you hadn’t put together something was very, very wrong with the existence of Kappa, Gamma and Theta already, he had a feeling that Epsilon’s appearance just sealed it.

Dottore turned away as Epsilon took your hand in his to press his lips to your knuckles before he gently led you in the direction of the door on the left. Gamma and Iota followed behind, the latter far more excited than the former. Gamma cast one last pleading look in Dottore’s direction just as Iota slammed the door shut behind them.

Dottore, as he turned his attention to Theta’s still body, thought this might just be the worst case scenario. All three of the children. Theta. Epsilon. The last segments Dottore wanted meeting you all somehow managed to do just that within hours of you being in Zapolyarny. This would spread to all of the rest of the segments in no time and then he would have Zeta demanding to see proof of your existence and Rho lurking about curious; he’d have Delta bashing down the palace door to get Iota away from you, convinced by Lambda that you were only here to deceive them. And he’d have Lambda doing god knows what to try to remove your existence from their lives so they could continue their research without distraction.

He needed a plan of action and he needed it fast but first, he had to deal with this.

“What happened?”

“Two aristocrats came up looking for the Kappa segment,” Pantalone said off-handedly. “Your soulmate interfered.”

“Interfered?” Dottore demanded. “What was she doing wandering around?”

Pantalone raised his eyebrows. “Was I meant to lock her in her room?”

Dottore looked at him coldly, silently telling him yes, he should have. They could not afford to have any of their subordinates run into you, much less any of the Harbingers and he knew that some of them would be searching for you. He remembered Columbina’s cryptic comment about you a few months ago, Sandrone’s fury at your presence in Snezhnaya, Arlecchino’s odd interest in you—and if Arlecchino was interested, it was only a matter of time before she sent her attack dog after you to find out whatever she wanted to know. Keeping you isolated from the rest of the Fatui was paramount.

“What happened with Theta?” Dottore asked after Pantalone let out an exaggerated sigh of agreement.

“What always happens with Theta,” Pantalone said dismissively. “He gets set off and lashes out. Was going on about her faking the bond, apparently Lambda is going around convincing them she’s lying.”

Of course, Dottore thought bitterly. He knew that Lambda had been talking to Zeta, Delta and Rho but he thought the segment knew better than to get Theta wound up about this.

He took a deep breath, taking a step away to calm himself down. Well, that made that decision: the first thing he had to do was talk to Lambda, he couldn’t have him turning the segments against you, least of all Theta, who was very liable to attack those that he thinks did him wrong. After that, he would figure out what to do with the rest of the segments because in stopping Lambda, he would have to admit to them all that you were his soulmate, that this was all real.

That this was all real.

Dottore shut his eyes briefly, unconsciously looking in the direction of where you, Epsilon and the kids had disappeared behind the dark door that led to your room. His body itched to follow them in there—the bond in work, surely, but he could feel it was getting stronger. It was stronger than it was while he had been dancing with you, and even stronger than it had been while talking to you outside of the washroom. He should just grab Theta and drag him back down to his lab, leaving Epsilon to deal with your interrogation, but his feet weren’t cooperating.

“You should speak to her,” Pantalone said as he turned to go back to his own room. “If you’re going to have me confine her to this wretched place, you should at the very least, explain to her why… lest you have a very unhappy soulmate on your hands. I doubt that would be conducive to productivity.”

Dottore hummed dismissively, glancing back at the door once. He supposed should, he didn’t want to deal with your turbulent emotions, especially when he was going to be dealing with the segments.

Distantly, a part of him wondered if he was just using that as a logical excuse to give in to the pull of the bond.

“And Doctor, do get me that prototype by the morning as promised.”

You felt overwhelmed. The older boy, Gamma, was sitting in the corner of your room, knees tucked to his chest as he watched you with the younger two. Kappa was fast asleep now, tiny arms slung around your neck as he slept—you had tried to place him down on your bed but whenever you tried to pull him away from you, his arms tightened and he started stirring awake. The other one, you didn’t know his name yet, was kneeling on the floor next to the bed where you were sitting, big red eyes peeked above the comforter, watching you with varying degrees of suspicion and distrust and longing.

He had the same scar on the upper half of his face that Gamma did, you couldn’t help but notice, down to the burn patterns and wrinkles. And they were identical, if Gamma was a few years younger, he’d be the spitting image of the kid. It was impossible. Not even brothers can be so similar as to be identical down to the wrinkles and patterns in scars.

So, what were they?

You had to have been onto something when you thought it was some sort of experiment—Kappa was too young to have been born eight years ago, Gamma and the new kid were too similar in appearances, if you saw correctly when Kappa partially knocked off the mask even Theta seemed to have some scars on his face, and Theta and Kappa both showed a strength that did not reflect in their body.

A throat being cleared knocked you out of your thoughts, your eyes drew up from the kids to where the man was standing near the door. He gave you a small, apologetic smile as his eyes met yours—red and gentle.

Who was this?

You watched the man with thinly veiled suspicion. He looked just like Dottore, silvery blue hair styled the same way and even wearing a similar dark button-up that he did.

Except unlike Dottore, he was not wearing a mask.

His skin was smooth compared to the scars of the children and instead of the ever-present frown of Dottore, the corner of his lips were turned up. You had grown used to the cold aloofness of your soulmate over the years, it unnerved you how someone could look so much like him and yet feel entirely different.

You raised your chin as Epsilon came to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, keeping your expression stony, studying him to try to figure out what he wanted from you.

“Peace,” he murmured. “I’d just like to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

He had a white handkerchief between his fingers and you were acutely aware of the blood still dripping down your cheeks and arm. He raised his eyebrows, but sighed when he realized you weren’t going to budge, placing the handkerchief back in his pocket.

“Very well,” he said quietly. “I’m sure you have questions. I can answer them if you’d like.”

Of course you had questions, but could you trust him to answer them?

He didn’t appear as if he was trying to deceive you, his eyes were warm and his lips were lax, he had none of that tightness that Dottore usually had. Was he faking it? Or was he wanting to help you? You couldn’t tell, his demeanor was throwing you off.

“You’re really her?” a new, young voice said softly, voice hesitant but tinged with the slightest bit of hope that had your heart aching. You looked back toward the kid as he peered up at you through thick curls of hair cautiously. “Our soulmate?”

Our.

Your ears rang, distantly watching as the boy reached out for your hand, thin fingers playing with yours until he reached the one your thread was looped around. From the corner of your eye, you looked at the older man, who was watching you with a knowing expression.

Our.

How was that possible? He could clearly see your thread, trying to play with it and tug at it in the same way you used to as a child, but he had no connecting one, like the Doctor did. Did that make you his soulmate but he was not yours? Was there such a thing as unrequited soulmates? But you didn’t think it was that simple, there was a critical piece of information you were still missing.

But the kid was looking at you again, anxiously awaiting your response, and you didn’t have the heart to deny him. Even if you weren’t sure what was going on, he could undeniably see your thread.

“Yes,” you finally said, watching as he lit up, red eyes pooling with tears and lips trembling as he flung himself forward, burying his face into your lap. He jostled Kappa, who kicked his foot out instinctively, but the kid was unbothered.

“I knew you were real.” His voice was muffled into the cloths of your dress. “Everyone said you weren’t but I knew you were.”

Your throat tightened and your now free hand twitched from where it was laying on the comforter of your bed, coming up to pat his head.

You let out a shaky breath, lifting your gaze to focus on the man still sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you with an indecipherable expression.

“I’ve never seen them take to someone like this before,” he said softly. “I suppose it’s just further proof that you are who you claim to be. Some of the others thought it might be a ploy.”

Others, you wondered distantly but you were more focused on the last thing he said, face twisting.

“I would not fake a soul bond,” you said tightly, mind turning to your stepfather and your mother, your dead father and your destroyed family.

“I insulted you,” he realized. “My apologies, it was not my intention. I was not one of the ones that thought that way but I figured it was best for you to know and prepare, some of them might doubt you when they meet you.”

“How many of you are there?” you asked, but the more important question that you just couldn’t push out was what are you?

“Excluding the Doctor, there are nine of us. I’m called Epsilon. Kappa is the youngest, then Iota, who is on your lap, and then Gamma, who’s sitting over there,” he explained.

You looked back over to where Gamma was sitting. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, staring out the window into the dark night… or maybe he was. Amused, you realized that he was still watching you carefully through the reflection of the window. As soon as he realized that you noticed what he was doing, he turned his head away quickly.

“He’ll warm up,” Epsilon said quietly. You looked back toward him, watching as his lips turned up, red eyes glittering, as if sharing some secret with you. “He’s nervous.”

You couldn’t help the way you let out a puff of amusement, studying Gamma and the way he was digging his nails into the palm of his hand and tapping his foot against the wood of the window nook incessantly.

“I don’t… really understand all of this,” you finally admitted, relaxing a bit with Epsilon. You let yourself lean back against the large, decorative pillows set up on the bed, watching the man that looked eerily similar to Dottore, wondering if this was what he looked like beneath the mask as well.

“This is new for all of us too,” Epsilon told you, “so I can’t really explain to you what all of the bonds might be or mean… but I’m sure that is not what you’re asking right now, is it?”

“Not entirely, at least. First I’d like to understand…”

What you are. What they are. Why you can see the thread and why the children think that I’m their soulmate too.

“Well, I’ll do my best at explaining then. You deserve that much at least.”

The heavy weight on your chest lifted, if only a little. You thought that this might be the first time in weeks, months, that someone was actually giving you answers. Your father passed and left you with only questions, the masked person from the inn gave you even more questions and not a single answer, and now even Dottore refused to answer your questions, he just sent you away for Pantalone to deal with.

“Thanks,” you said softly, eyes meeting his again.

Epsilon gave you a small smile, lips parting to speak but before he could say anything, the door to your room opened again. Your gaze shot up, eyes falling upon a familiar masked figure standing in the frame, lips pressed together tightly.

“Epsilon,” Dottore said coldly. “Bring Theta down to the lab.”

Epsilon sighed heavily, shooting you an apologetic look before rising to his feet. “Another time,” he offered, and you nodded, disappointed, ignoring how Dottore’s lips turned downward.

Epsilon made his way out of the room, slipping past Dottore, and Gamma threw himself off the nook and scampered after Epsilon, fleeing the room without another look toward you.

The door slam shut behind them, an eerie silence sweeping over the room as he left you with Dottore.

Dottore’s already sour mood worsened when Epsilon flung him a triumphant look as soon as his back was turned to you. He wondered what he said to you in those few minutes he was in here alone with you but for some reason, he doubted that you would tell him and he by no means wanted to add more fuel to the fire by appearing interested in you. Narrowed eyes followed Epsilon as he left the room, shutting the door harshly behind him and the Gamma segment so he could speak to you without unwelcome ears listening in.

The Kappa and Iota segments made no move to leave—one being fast asleep and the other now watching Dottore suspiciously, shifting behind you to peek over your shoulder at him. Dottore could see the boy clutching something in his hand, knuckles white around the object and arms tensed as if ready to throw it. Dottore raised his eyebrows, albeit knowing neither of you could see the action anyway.

He ignored Iota and drew closer to the bed, taking a seat on the opposite side of the mattress that Epsilon had been sitting on as he observed you. You looked exhausted—your eyes looked heavy and tired, they didn’t have the same spark in them that they had earlier in the night, and the blood from the scratch marks on your was smeared messily, staining your skin and dress.

Irritated, Dottore wondered why Epsilon hadn’t cleaned it up, pulling out a cloth from his jacket pocket and shifting a little closer. He grabbed your arm first, ignoring that tingling sensation as it reappeared as soon as the pads of his fingers were pressed against your bare skin, and especially ignoring the red thread tied around your finger.

He could feel your eyes on him as he carefully wiped away the blood, distantly noting that Iota had shimmied out from behind you and was darting to the opposite side of the room.

“He will not bother you again,” Dottore finally said, sparing a look to the side as Iota approached from the side, this time with bandages. He eyed the boy curiously, wondering if this room was one of the places he fled to those rare times he was stuck in the palace and got overwhelmed by the amount of people. Iota turned his head away pointedly and Dottore just shook his head, taking the bandages and wrapping them neatly around your wrist and forearm.

You didn’t respond to him and Dottore glanced up at you, waiting for you to say something. You looked away, Dottore bit back an irritated sigh, tying off the bandage and moving a bit closer to look at your face.

“Thought they just called you a doctor for the irony,” you snipped half-heartedly, keeping your eyes averted as his fingers grabbed your jaw, turning your head to the side to see just how deep Theta had cut you.

Dottore let out an amused puff of air. “They do,” he drawled, “but I’m usually presented as one to acquire more willing test subjects. I must at least know the basics.”

You gave him a withering look from the corner of your eye, bottom lip pushed out. He was grateful for his mask hiding the way his gaze lingered on it, focusing back on the scratch marks. They weren’t too deep but he didn’t have an ointment with him to spread over them, so instead he just pressed the handkerchief to the skin, cleaning up the blood.

“What are they?” you asked, eyes steeled for an argument.

Dottore sighed heavily, considering briefly trying to avoid the subject but you did not seem keen on letting this slide and he was not in the mood for an argument. He wanted to get this done and get out of your room as soon as possible, even if his body was betraying him by allowing his fingers to linger on your cheek as he wiped away the blood.

“They are me.”

Concise and to the point, as he always was, Dottore waited for the explosion of questions and demands to come from you but you only stared at him, studying him. Again, Dottore was grateful for his mask because he did not like the way he felt beneath your gaze.

“How?” you finally questioned.

“Experimentation,” Dottore said dryly, your eyes narrowed as if that was an obvious answer. His lip unconsciously pulled up into a smirk. “I was able to isolate and extract my consciousness at specific periods of my life after years of study into-”

“Irminsul,” you finished for him, voice little over a breath and eyes darting down to your forearm.

Dottore’s lips pressed into a thin line, watching you carefully—he did not like that, or did he? A part of him was impressed that you’d managed to put it together so easily just from the little he said and the words that had been transcribed to you through the bond. But on the same note, he thought that the fact that the bond had given you enough words to so easily string together how he had gone about his research was unnerving.

Not for the first time since the bond appeared, Dottore felt distinctly violated.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Study into Irminsul. All I had to do was create vessels for the consciousnesses after extracting them.”

“And they are… you?”

You were looking at Kappa with a different expression now, Dottore couldn’t figure out what it was but it made him uncomfortable, vulnerable. There was a reason why he made sure to keep all of the younger segments far, far away from people. Dottore let his hand drop back to his lap, folding the handkerchief and placing it back in his pocket.

“Yes.” His voice came out colder and sharper, and you caught the change in tone, looking up at him quickly with furrowed brows. “I’ll be taking them back to the labs.”

You didn’t look pleased, frowning as you looked down at Kappa, who was still fast asleep. Behind Dottore, Iota let out a noise of protest but Dottore only had to turn his head to the side to stop the boy from speaking his complaint out loud.

“So what? You’re just going to leave again?” you asked harshly.

“Did you think I was going to stay?” he quipped back, sarcasm dripping from his words. “That you and the younger segments and I were just going to be one happy family?”

To your credit, you didn’t look too perturbed by the harsh words but he knew it affected you, if the way your grip tightened on Kappa had anything to say about it.

“You can’t just keep me here,” you spoke through gritted teeth. “I’m not-”

“You’ll find that I can do whatever I want,” Dottore corrected, rising to his feet.

You didn’t hesitate, shifting Kappa down to lay on the bed next to you as you moved forward, fingers wrapping around his wrist to hold him in place. A commendable effort, but all it would take was one quick snap of his wrist to free it from your hold…

But he did not snap away his wrist. As easy as it would have been, instead he just stood there, staring down at you, waiting for you to say whatever you wanted to say. He tensed as if to pull away but his body didn’t cooperate—he blamed it on the bond but he wasn’t so sure that was the case.

“I’m not done,” you said. “I have more questions.”

“Another time,” he dismissed, finally forcing himself to pull his wrist back. Again, he felt a strange void as soon as the pressure of your fingers was removed from him. “I’ve wasted enough time tonight.”

Wasted?

“Wasted?” you echoed his very thought, scoffing loudly before shaking your head. “You know what, I don’t really care. What I do care about is knowing what that energy was around Pantalone—what was that?”

Dottore looked at her steadily from beneath his mask. “That is none of your business,” he said coolly. “Do not go sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong lest you find yourself a guest here forever.”

The look you gave him was nothing short of murderous. “As if I won’t be already,” you spat, rising to your feet to take a few steps closer to him after he moved away. Dottore remained rooted in place, looking down at you. “I will not be kept here like a caged animal.”

“Then maybe you should not act like one.”

“Excuse me?” Dottore’s words held no weight, but he did very much enjoy goading reactions out of you, watching as your face twisted in fury at the insult. “I came here for a reason, Doctor, and that reason was not to be imprisoned by you. I have information I need to find and one way or another, I will acquire it. You can either-”

“You will do as I say so long as you’re in this palace,” Dottore said, cutting you off by pinching your cheeks between his fingers and tilting your face up to look at him. “Just because we have a bond forced on us by Celestia does not make you untouchable, control that tongue of yours before it lashes at the wrong person. Once I get the information I want, I will consider getting you what you want. Then, we will never have to see each other again. Until then, you have reaped what you sowed and it is no one’s fault but your own that you were not adequately prepared for the consequences of your actions, do you understand?”

Just for a second, he watched as a helpless expression spread across your face, eyes glassy and lips pressed together tight as you stared up at him. His tongue itched to say something else but no words formed on it before you snapped your face out of his hold, looking away.

“Get out.”

A part of him wanted to refuse just to be spiteful—was it spite? Or was it something else, that heavy feeling weighing at his chest? That was a question he was not ready to answer, so instead, he smiled thinly:

“Gladly.”

i promise they’re going to start warming up to each other soon more than just in their internal narration <.< soon as in very soon wait til you see the scene i have planned

RBS APPRECIATED!

#dottore x reader #dottore smut #dottore x you #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you

945 notes · View notes

sethsclearwater · 8 months

Note

I knooooww you don’t prefer writing Sam (so ignore me if you’re just like “STOP ASKING ABOUT THIS MAN” 😭😂)

But could you do a poly sam & paul where sam “gets back” at paul and like shows him how it’s done (wink wink if u know what I mean?) as paul watches basically??

something smutty and sort of like “I’m the alpha” bc Ngl it would be hot LOL

i appreciate the fact that y'all know i can't stand that guy💀💀

...

"princess tell sam how quick i made you cum with my mouth this morning," paul mused cockily as he leaned back in the kitchen chair he was sat in, looking over to sam who rolled his eyes.

you blushed, shaking your head as you thought about how absolutely ridiculous you'd sound if you told your other imprinter, "princess," paul teased, sliding his hands over your hips to tug you into his lap, "you gonna be a good girl and tell sam for me?" he asked, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he waited for your response.

you thought about it for a moment before slowly nodded, always wanting nothing more than to be a good sub for both your imprinters, "3 minutes," you whispered, peeking up at sam who offered you a smile, suddenly much more interested in the conversation.

"3 minutes?" sam repeated as he stepped over to the two of you. you nodded, cheeks an even deeper red as you processed just how stupid it was that paul managed to make you cum so quickly using just his tongue.

"sunshine go lay down on the bed for me, would you? wanna show paul who can make you cum quicker," he asked softly, letting out a breathy laugh when you looked up at him with wide eyes.

you didn't see it but paul was grinning, absolutely loving that sam had finally bought into one of his competitions he always seemed to be having. "c'mon princess," paul mused, standing up and helping you get your footing before he was guiding you into the bedroom, sam following shortly behind.

"always look so sexy," paul mused as he helped you lay down on the bed, hooking his fingers around the thin band of your sleep shorts and panties before he was pulling them down and tossing them to the side.

you let out a soft sigh as you felt the cool air hit your exposed cunt, slowly letting your legs fall open as paul stepped out of them in favor of sitting down in the chair in your room while sam took his place.

"paul," sam started as he got himself situated between your thighs, "start a timer would you?" he asked, not waiting for him to respond before he was diving in between your thighs and licking your pussy like his life depended on it.

at the first touch, you let out a loud moan, immediately knotting your fingers in his inky hair and drawing your legs closer to you, "oh my god-" you whined as sam pulled your clit into his mouth, allowing his teeth to just barely graze over the sensitive bud before he was thrusting his tongue into your heat.

"sam please-" you whimpered, tightening your fingers in his hair as he set a steady pace of fucking your pussy with his tongue while he made sure to suckle at your clit every few moments. within a minute, he had you teetering right on the edge of your second orgasm of the morning.

"cum on me sunshine," sam encouraged, only pulling his mouth away for a moment before he was diving back in and desperately lapping at your soaked cunt.

he had barely finished his sentence when the coil in your belly snapped and you came undone on him, letting out a loud moan as he continued fucking you with his tongue to help you ride out your orgasm.

as you came down from your high, sam's gentle touch helped recenter you, "hey sunshine," sam cooed, sliding his hand up and down your side, "i think you broke your record," he mused, pressing a soft kiss to your hip before he was looking over his shoulder at paul who had what could only be described as a flabbergasted look on his face.

"what the hell were you even doing to her?" paul asked, both boys letting out laughs as they processed just how quickly you came undone on sam's mouth.

"how long was that?" sam asked as he grabbed a hand towel from the bedside table to clean you up with.

"2 minutes," paul responded, rolling his eyes as he came to sit behind you on the bed and gently tug you up, in between his legs so he could hold you while sam got you cleaned up.

"felt good?" paul asked softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as you nodded, dopily smiling up at him as you continued working at coming down from your orgasm.

paul chuckled at your expression, "i love you," he mused, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as sam got settled back between your thighs.

"i love you too," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder that had him chuckling again at the gentleness of your touch.

sam got settled back between your thighs, gently running the towel over your thighs to help you adjust to the sensation, "i love you too," you said as you turned your attention to sam, giggling as he smiled to himself.

"i love you too sunshine," sam reassured as he got ready to clean you up.

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wherenymphsroam · 2 months

Note

LUUUUUNNNEEEEEE :333

Got me thinking about Leon/Chris!!!

I want them 😭😭😭

MANDA !!!!

(oh my goodness this is so late we r gonna … ignore that)

but YEAH M STILL THINKING ABT THEM.

been thinking specifically abt…. like cuck leon. he will never admit it out loud, but he loves loves loves sharing his baby. loves watching and tracking every facial expression, every twitch and jump, every reaction as you acclimate to someone new.

but chris specifically? he’s squirming.

and fuck if he knows why, but there is just something about watching chris pull you onto his lap, onto his cock that pulls a whine from leon. and chris notices, of course he does — how could he not, Leon’s got you held against his chest. it’s like he’s fucking leon by extension in this position.

“try not to sound so jealous,” chris mutters under his breath, a strained groan as his pelvis settles flush against your cunt. it was no wonder why leon could never shut his mouth about you, your cunt was heaven.

“what’s that s’posed to mean?” leon forces a scoff, glaring up at chris through his lashes. it was almost cute, seeing the conflict etched over leon’s features. that furrow in his brow that begs to convey his attempt at preserving his pride. it still wasn’t easy, being honest about how much he liked watching the older man split you open on his cock. but you knew, if leons bulge rutting into your back had anything to say about it.

“come on now…” the older man chuckles as he hoists your thighs wider, thick fingers splayed firmly over your soft skin. “it’s about time we’re honest, don’t you think?”

chris’s gaze meets leon’s just as he pulls your thighs wider, wider until he’s sliding his hands to hold the backs of your knees, and he pushes. Pressing down until your feet dangle in the air, until your knees make contact with your chest, chris gives leon the best damn seat in the house. like this, leon is practically forced into seeing just how thick chris is, how much you were stretched around him. how fucking wet you are, slick glistening over the insides of your thighs.

“how long has she wanted this? huh?” Chris mutters, eyes trained on you. he’s talking to leon, sure. but everyone knows his inquiry is a double edged sword. his hips draw back, painstakingly so, ensuring you feel every damn inch as he withdrawals.

“told me all about hwo pretty she is, how fuckin- good this cunt is-“

and right back in he goes, pelvis mushing against your cunt once more. it’s obscene, the sight of the action, the way your cunt so eagerly swallows him back up. leon forces a hard swallow, doing his damn best not to audibly gasp when you keen beneath chris.

“I find it interesting you conveniently left out the part… about how greedy she is,” chris groans then, head bobbing with the effort of not letting it drop. he’s tempted to rest his forehead down on your shoulder, his body is screaming for him to smother everything you are, envelope you whole. but for the sake of leons view of you, he holds back. the satisfaction of watching leon see how you responded to him far outweighed the pleasured of taking what he wants.

“so tell me,” chris continues, biting back a growl. his voice is strained, his entire body tense. like a predator toying with its food, dragging out its eventual undoing.

“was this.. really your idea? or do we have a greedy little slut on our hands?”

I have emergency commissions open! please consider contributing/rb’ing :^)

#im ….. yeah #need ….. need them so bad ….#yaps. ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚#fairies. 𐦍 #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #chris redfield smut #chris redfield x reader #resident evil smut

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meowzfordayz · 6 months

Text

when you forget to close the door while using the bathroom

Author’s Note: this isn’t nsfw, but it’s ~explicit for other reasons. 🚽🧻💩 #shitposting #literally

when you forget to close the door while using the bathroom

Hashira x Reader, Kamaboko x Reader

Word Count: ~800

CW: explicit language, poop references

~faqs~

Do you even love him ????? 😭😭😭

WHY WOULD YOU LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN?!?!?! 🫠😵‍💫🤢

Haunted by your little gasps for air 🙃

Can’t take intimacy srsly for a while

Bc whenever you gasp ~cutely into your kisses 🥰

Zenitsu just flashes back to you doing your best to take a shit 😮‍💨🥴

Highkey takes it as a challenge 😏

A display of dominance, if you will 😎

Nods in approval (not that you can see him)

And takes ~notes for later (aka yes, he is listening closely 💀)

You don’t know it yet

But Inosuke’s already planning his move

Drink a ton of coffee (he’ll have to ask Tanjirou how to brew it) ☕️

Eat a ton of dairy 🧀🥛🍦

Make sure you’re home 😌

Take a shit (w/ the door open, ofc) 🤗

THAT’LL SHOW YOU WHO’S BOSS !!!!! 😤😤😤🫡

King of the Toilet anyone??? 🚽👑

Wonders why everything sounds louder??? 😬

A respectful gentleman tho ☺️

Will go upstairs to avoid the plops 🫢

Too bad his hearing’s phenomenal, even when hiding on top of the roof 😃

A little irritated 🙄

But whatever

You prob just reeeally had to go

He understands 😶

Will nonchalantly ask you about it the next time you’re out w/ friends 🤨

Is getting ignored for the rest of the night worth it? 🙃

Kinda 🥲

Obanai has regrets 😞

Can smell the situation from a mile away 😅

Tbf, closing the door wouldn’t have helped much 😬

Has to contemplate whether it’s worth embarrassing you over

Like, does he gently ask, “Love, would you mind closing the door?”

Or does he wince grin and bear it

Unfortunately, the toilet paper he would use to plug up his nose is currently unobtainable 🧻☹️

Should he just knock himself out for now? 🤗

You’d prob be upset if he didn’t wake up in time… 😒

Hm… 😔

😵 <— Tanjirou inhaled too deeply

“BAAABE, YOU FORGOT TO CLOSE THE DOORRR!!!!!” 🩷💕💞💓💗💖💘💝

Giggles to herself as the door slams shut 🤭

(you’re not mad, but you had to kick it closed bc it’s a lil far from the toilet seat 😅)

Holds it against you 😌

“Shinobu, could you get me a glass of water?” ☺️

“I don’t know, my dear, could you close the bathroom door?” 😃

“Shinobu, I want a kiss.” 🥺

“Mm, and I want to forget your pooping noises. I guess we can’t always have what we want.” 😃

Chuckles to himself, at first 🤭

And then becomes concerned 😕

Is it supposed to sound like that? 🙁

Or take this long?? ☹️ Should he intrude? 😖

It’s not like there’s a closed door for him to bust down…

He could just, waltz in-

Internally scolds himself: Bad idea, [y/n] would not appreciate that!

Returns to the drawing board

And settles on a careful (once you’ve returned to him), “So, my love, are your bowels feeling okay?” ☺️

🧐😒😠 <— you

😶😬😁 <— him

“They just, uh, sounded wonderful earlier?!”

“Next time, how about closing the door?”

*Sanemi is casually leaning against a wall near the bathroom entrance*

You shriek 😳

And smack his shoulder 😡

“Sanemi!!!!! Do not wait outside the bathroom like that!!!!!” 😭

“Did you wash your hands?” 😏

“SANEMI!” 😒

“... well?” 👀

You are not amused 😐

He acquiesces 😅

“Okay, okay, I confess, I heard the sink running.” 🤓

“I hate you.” 🥲

“But you trust me enough to shit with the door open.” 🥰

“Piss off.” 🙄

“I’m about to!” 🫡

(bc, y’know, he’s about to go… piss… 😆)

Doesn’t really mind

Will prob forget to remind you about it later 🙃

Until the next time you do it

…

By the fourth incident, Muichiro gives up

If anything, he’s flattered you’re so comfortable around him ☺️

Altho he is a lil worried about your ability to use a public bathroom 😶

Def uncomfortable 😕

But even more uncomfortable at the thought of discussing ~it w/ you ☹️

Giyuu knows you wouldn’t be upset

Or even embarrassed

You have like, 0 shame, as he’s both lovingly and unfortunately come to learn ☺️😬

Which means

If he mentioned it, then you’d likely end up teasing him 🫠

“Love me so much, you’ve even gotta listen to me poop?” 😉

*shudder shudder* 😭

(I mean, yes, he does love you that much, but when you put it like that 🥴)

Giyuu settles on hoping that it was a one time mistake 🤞🙏

Good luck 😃

Tengen’s never letting you live it down 😝

Will write out instructions on “How to Use a Bathroom” 🤓

And stick ‘em on both sides of the door

Step 1: Open the door

Step 2: CLOSE THE DOOR

Step 3: ✨Do your thing✨

#hashira x reader #kamaboko #headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #zenitsu x reader #inosuke x reader #gyomei x reader #obanai x reader #tanjiro x reader #tanjirou x reader #mitsuri x reader #shinobu x reader #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #muichiro x reader #giyuu x reader #tengen x reader

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honeysocksp · 11 months

Text

Doodling - Lawlu HS

Hhhhh I don’t even know how to start this post really—

This is basically a love letter to @naturecalls111 and their Lawlu high school AU. Such an incredible AU and so well written take a visit if you just enjoy art in general frr!

For this art you’ve got Luffy drawing on Law’s hand. I do this all of the time personally. I did it today just for the purpose of doodling on my hand and I feel like Luffy would too even if he’s not very good at drawing.

Uhhh Nature (i think it’s okay to call you that?) if you see this I really like your art a lot. :) it’s so well made and the anatomy is just perfect imo! The backgrounds that you draw are breathtaking. You’re so creative 😭💖💖 I dunno what else to say really I have too many good things to say about your art in one post hdhhhh.

ANYWAYS I know that this isn’t my best art piece ever but I tried I swear— this also counts as my @lawluevents 10 days of Lawlu entry for today since I don’t have time to make anything else and it’s the free day. :)))

Drawing requests are open in my ask page if anyone is interested. I’ll take any ideas. 💖🌝

p.s ignore the mistakes I don’t have enough skill to fix them. I need to study anatomy.

Oh also

A little test for a different lineart style while I was bored. Of course they’re there hhoskdjfkrk.

#lawluweek2023 #lawlu #one piece #lawlu fanart #lawluffy #monkey d. luffy #trafalgar law #hs au #Check out the person that made the AU please #Their art is go fuckin good

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moneymartin · 2 months

Text

🦌- yikes.

summary: you help lottie bake cookies!

warnings: nothing!!!! its fluffy 💞 lottie sucks at baking but you’re somewhat good at it :p

603 words

if this makes no sense i’m sorry 😭

lottie paced around the kitchen, flour all over her fingers and spread around her face. she had been trying to make these stupid cookies for your guys’ anniversary. how romantic.

unfortunately, she sucked. she sucked at everything involving a grill, an oven, and even a damn microwave. her maids and butlers did everything for her and whenever she tried, she would end up burning something in the process.

there were cracked eggshells on the ground, a bit of the egg white residue, spilled milk on the counter, and sugar scattered like ant hills on the table. “oh, come on!!” she blurts out when another one of the eggs roll off of the counter. it cracks and she lets out an exaggerated whine, drawing your attention over.

the sight is… overwhelming. your kitchen is a total mess and so is your girlfriend. she has bits of flour in between strands of her hair and its all over her face. she rubs at the back of her neck and looks at you with those eyes you can’t help but stare at forever. “yikes…”

“i can’t bake these fucking cookies! look at them!” lottie grumbles. your eyes dart to the baking sheet on the table and the shape of her extremely pathetic attempt of heart shaped cookies. they had turned out into little blobs, the edges burnt, and the chocolate chips somewhat being the only thing edible on those things. “i mean, at least you… tried?” you say and shake your head a little when the pout on lottie’s face starts to show a bit more. “here let me help you out.”

you grab the tray full of obviously inedible cookies and toss the rest into the trash. the thumps make her face contort into one of embarrassment. she felt bad for even trying to make something for you, even when she knew she couldn’t do it. “this is horrible. i hate that i can’t do anything nice for you.” she murmurs. her voice chokes up a bit and you turn your head around to look at her. “hey, don’t be like that. it’s fine. we can always try again.” you reassure.

ignoring the horrible mess in the kitchen, you grab a new bowl and gently wrap your arms around lottie’s waist. “let’s do this instead…” your hands grab hers, helping her reach out for the bag of flour and the jar of sugar. you guide her fingers and add just the right amount of everything into the bowl. she complies of course and just stands there, letting you move her hands around so she can learn. “there shouldn’t be so many eggs, okay? you don’t need 10 for just a dozen cookies.”

she just nods and keeps her mouth shut. she doesn’t wanna talk and embarrass herself by saying something completely stupid. she knows you’re good at baking and she isn’t. so, you’re willing to help. she’s your girlfriend after all. doing something together that’ll end up good in the end is always the best, especially with someone like lottie.

everything goes by quickly. the eggs, butter, brown sugar, regular sugar, milk, pinches of salt, and chocolate chips were already all in the bowl. “see! not so hard, am i right?” you smile brightly and turn lottie around to face you. her back is pressed up against the counter and she cups your face gently, pressing her lips up against yours. “thank you.” she murmurs in between the quick kiss and pulls away, humming softly. she doesn’t seem so grouchy about the cookies she made before and she’s grateful.

“lets shape these damn things now.”

#mine #yellowjackets x reader #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews yellowjackets #lottie yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #yj fic #shauna shipman #misty quigley #jackie taylor #nat scatorccio #natalie scatorccio #lottie x reader #i didnt know how to end #SORRY!

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kodydrs · 7 months

Text

The Vice-Admiral’s Daughter - Portgas D. Ace ( II )

➥ the first arguement

a/n: I might have this done by next week (i’m jinxing myself rn). writing this all feels so repetitive 😭. but hope everyone is having a wonderful day, so why not reblog / leave a reply, or send in a request / ask?

warnings: ace x fem!reader, pirate!ace x marine!daughter!admiral, fxm, 17y/o!reader, 19y/o!ace, argument, tension, non-con (but not really), pet names, single used of “y/n”, not proofread (it’s never proofread), i’m bad at tagging

summary: a series of you and ace’s “first times” - you haven’t seen ace for almost 2 years, but suddenly the pirate pops up in a bar.

ib: i lied an forgot to mention it in the first post, but the pirate x marine idea came from this post by @tinfairies

request: yes / no

The next time you met Ace was almost a year and a half later at a similar bar, but this one wasn’t in Loguetown. Instead, you were partaking in a Marine Training. Night had come and training had ended, so you had all decided to get drinks at the local bar (courtesy of the Vice-Admiral, of course). It was going to be a good night until you spotted a familiar orange cowboy hat.

‘Can you guys excuse me for a minute? I’ve gotta do something quickly.’ You told the other cadets. You got a response of “Oh come on, Y/n.” and “But we’re sitting down for the first time all day”, all of which you ignored. Not drawing attention to yourself from anyone in the bar, you walked up to the counter and took a seat beside the pirate.

Ace looked at you through the side of his eye, having to do a double take before realising who you were.

‘Hey. It’s the Vice-Admiral’s daughter!’ He shouted, resulting in a merciless jab to the ribs. He doubled over, wincing as he smiled up at you. ‘Long time, no-‘

‘You need to leave.’ You hissed as you ordered yourself a drink. He just chuckled.

‘We both know that isn’t going to happen, sweetheart.’ He says, taking a small sip of his drink.

‘Ace. There are other marines here. This whole town is swarmed with marines at the moment. You will get caught.’ You whisper-yell, chugging your own drink like it was a shot of water. Ace watched in amazement, a devilish smirk crossing his face as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

‘What happened to “I don’t drink”? Last time I saw you, I had to force you into having just one and now here you are, drinking like a sailor. What did I miss?’

‘I aged.’ You reply blatantly, like it’s the most obvious answer. ‘Last time I saw you, Ace, I was 16. It’s been almost 2 years.’

He laughs, ruffling your hair playfully and you can feel your cheeks heating up.

‘Well you certainly aged well.’ You were quick to brush his hand away, grabbing him by his hat's drawstrings and dragging him from the bar once again.

‘You’re an asshole. And an idiot.’ You curse loudly, turning heads as you cart him down the main street and into an empty alley. ‘What are you even doing here?’

‘I was bored.��

If he looked close enough, Ace might have seen the vein on your forehead pulsing and your patience snap.

‘I’m sorry. You’re in a highly marine populated area, on the busiest day of Marine training, because YOU’RE BORED?!’

He looks at you nonchalantly, shrugging.

‘That is what pirates do, sweetheart.. We get bored sometimes.’

You pinch the bridge of your nose and groan, enciting a smile from the older.

‘How is it that you always manage to be in the worst place at the worst time? It’s like that’s your devil fruit power instead of fire fist shit.’

His smirk widens and he leans back against the wall. ‘That’s because I'm not afraid to take risks.’ He winks mischievously, stepping forward towards you before stopping short when he notices your expression.

‘What's wrong, baby girl?’ He asks, tilting his head slightly.

‘I-uh.’ You’re struggling to find words, and you know that boosting Ace’s already large ego. ‘You’re a pervert.’

He bursts into laughter, making you flinch.

‘Oh ho! That’s quite rich coming from you, princess.’ There’s a glint of mischief in his eyes.

‘Rich coming from me?’ You fight, a surge of confidence flooding you. ‘You took advantage of a 16 year old girl while she was intoxicated.’

He steps closer, towering over you and you feel all the light around you disappear. It’s scary.

‘If I remember correctly, and let us both remember I was the sober one, you said something along the lines of “I want to kiss you so bad right now” and me, not being a “pervert” , told you to try saying it while you’re sober. so no, Y/n. I took advantage of no one.’

Your face flushes red, internal regret ringing in your ear as every alarm goes off. Your flight response, your “crawl into a ball and cry” response, and your fight response.

‘You’re lying.’

‘Oh yeah?’ His voice dropped down to that octave you remembered from your first drink. That animalistic tone as he slowly runs a finger down your covered stomach before hooking onto your belt. ‘Then why are you so nervous?’

You’re doing your best to not break eye contact with the man, but your breathing becomes deep and heavy as he leans in close enough for you to feel his breath on your neck as he whispers in your ear.

‘Tell me, babygirl. What exactly did I do wrong?’ He grips tighter onto your belt, pulling your forwards until your chests are pressed together closely. ‘Just answer me, please.’

You can’t form words, and all that comes out when you try to answer is a quiet whimper, like an animal caught in the hunters trap. Ace just laughs, placing a hand on your hip.

‘Now… that isn’t very convincing, princess.’ He pulls away and you gasp for air, your body finally registering that you were breathing. You can feel how hot your face is, and it only makes you more embarrassed which adds to the heat.

‘I-‘

‘You’re trying to tell me I forced you?’ Ace says, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. ‘I did no such thing, ok? What I’m doing now? This is forcing. But on that night, I took you back to the tavern because I didn’t know where you lived and you were too drunk to give me directions. From there, the bartender should’ve taken you home. So please don’t accuse me of taking advantage of you. We had a deal, remember?’

You nod weakly, breathing normally as he releases your jaw and brings his hand to the side of your hand, caressing your cheek gently.

‘I… I’m sorry. For accusing you, and- everything else.’

He looks at you with that dark expression for another second before his signature bright smile lights up.

‘It’s alright. I don’t hold a grudge. Especially not with my friends. And you were so drunk. You wouldn’t have remembered anything from that night, anyways.’

You laugh quietly, wiping your eyes of the few tears that had threatened to spill.

‘…yeah. But I wasn’t drunk.’

‘Oh my god.’ He shouts, laughing at the fact you’re still defending your case after a year and a half. Regardless of the actions prior, he pays your head and ruffles your hair. ‘Get back to your drinks. I’ll get out of here while you distract them, ok?’

You both laugh, but nonetheless split ways. You go back to the other cadets, forgetting you’d even seen Ace by the 5th drink.

taglist: reply to be added

all rights and reserves are copyright to kodydrs on tumblr. this material is not to be copied or translated.

⇦ part I

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arcaneauthor · 1 year

Text

Tattoos Tell A Story

Part 2 now up (here), Part 3 (here)

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!reader

Summary: Coloring in Ghost’s tattoos has become somewhat of a habit. It’s this habit that’s leads you to discovering a tattoo he had gotten done without your knowledge.

Warnings: Fluff, like so much fluff

A/n: This is my first time posting on tumblr and I have no idea what I’m doing. Requests now open! Pls give me some ideas😭

You found it one day during one of your little “coloring sessions”,A little habit you’ve picked up ever since that one rainy day in July. Ghost had just come back from a mission and you both wanted to soak in as much of the other as possible, just bask in one another’s presence. Three months with nothing more then a letter exchange here and there, you were gonna enjoy as much time with your boyfriend as possible.

You remember lightly stroking his arm as you curiously asked him why all of his tattoos were so dull.

~*~

“Pardon?” He questions if he heard you right.

“Your tattoos, all of them are just black. There’s no color.” Your eyes still haven’t left where you are softly tracing one of his tattoos, a depiction of an assault rifle rapped in thorns.

He raises his other tattooed arm for inspection, as if he had forgotten what it looked like.

“I don’t need em’ all flashy. Besides,” he shrugs,”Think they look better this way.”

You make a noise of disagreement, shaking your head, until a thought seems to strike you, raising your head from where it was previously laying on his shoulder, eyes looking up at him with a mischievous glint.

“Wanna bet?” Is all he gets before you bolt out of his grip, standing up to dig through the bedside drawer, grabbing a case of markers out before diving back into bed, a little too excitedly seeing as how the whole thing rocked.

You hold the case up to him as a kid would show a crayon drawing to their parents.

He stares at the markers before flicking his eyes to you.

“What are ya doin’?

You completely ignore him as you smile, a little manically, and turn to grab his arm and get to work.

He may have complained, but he never stopped you.

And he would never admit it out loud, but it did look kinda cool

It also put him to sleep

~*~

And now your little “coloring sessions” have become a bit of a recurring thing.

Sick and stuck in bed? He gives you his arm.

That time of the month and you’re curled under the covers with cramps? He’s already grabbing the markers for you.

Just having a bit of a lazy cuddle session? You’re instinctually grabbing his arm.

Today, it’s the third option. He had once again just got home from a mission and, though not as long as some of his other send offs, it still seemed way too long to you. You were sitting against one another, your back to his chest, one arm hugging you to him, the other clutched in your grasp as you fill in his uncolored tattoos with your pack of markers. His masked face was pressed against the side of your head as he watched your hands delicately glide the marker across his skin, sometimes throwing in a cheeky comment or two about how a certain color didn’t go somewhere, which earned him a slap to the thigh.

You finished filling in the rose near his elbow, moving further down towards his hand, but something catches your eye.

You’d done this countless times now, you probably know his tattoos better than he does at this point. You know that the ink goes a little off line on his skull tattoo, you know that there’s a little stray mark beside the oak tree on his bicep. You know every detail and mistake.

That’s how you know this wasn’t here before.

It’s a small little heart on the inside of his wrist, not filled in because of course it isn’t.

You bring it up closer to your face for inspection, and that’s when you notice it

The writing inside.

Y/n

It…was your name?

You whip around to look back at him with questioning eyes.

The mask completely covered the lower part of his face,though his eyes gave away the soft smirk lurking beneath.

“The boys wanted to celebrate the win. Tattoos were Mactavish’s idea.” Bastards trying to be all nonchalant about it.

“But-but, why this?” You shove his own arm into his face, like he didn’t already know what was on it.

He shrugs,”Racked my brain for an idea, but, seems you’re the only thing on my mind these days. Couldn’t get ya out of my head-“

He huffs as you plow into him with a hug, immediately engulfing you in his muscled arms.

Simon never was one for excessive pda or poetic words, rather he showed love through his actions. Attempting to cook for you, making you bubble baths, bringing you heating pads and medicine for your cramps. And this was just another one added to the list, maybe the best of them all in your opinion, cause a tattoo-a tattoo’s pretty dang permanent. In his mind, you know, this is his promise of forever to you. His version of a promise ring.

There’s no tears shed, you never were much of a crier, but the emotions were definitely felt. The warmth, the happiness, the love, all of it was basically drowning you at this point.

“You know tattoo removals hurt right?” You lean away enough to look him in the eye,”Like-like what happens if this doesn’t work out, if you decide you’re tired of me,I don’t know, piggy backing you all the time or something and you have to go get this covered?” You motion to his arm.

It’s said as a joke, but he can still somehow detect the hint of serious worry in your voice.

He lightly grabs you under the chin,”Sweetheart, if I let a catch like you go then I deserve the pain.”

Alright you know you said you weren’t a crier, but that might have brought some moisture to your eye.

He doesn’t even try and stop you as your reach to roll the mask up to his nose, a testament of how much he trusts you. Overwhelmed with emotions, you tenderly cup his face to pull him into a kiss.

It’s slow and gentle, just a smooth glide of your lips against his. His hands gently rubbing up and down your sides. You lovingly gliding your thumb across his light stubble, breathing in his musky cologne. Although intense, the kiss contains absolutely no heat, no sexual insinuation. Instead, you feel only one thing.

Love

“I love you.” You relay breathlessly as you pull away, gently knocking your forehead against his.

You share a few breathes before he replies

“I….care, about you too,” you slap his arm with an unimpressed look,”Kidding! Of course I bloody love you, got your name tattooed on my arm for gosh sa-

You cut him off with another kiss.

~*~

Bonus:

You were once again laid on the bed, squished up against his side with a thick arm wrapped around your shoulder. Your eyes caught sight of your name engraved in his skin.

You smirk at the sight,”You know,” you break silence, catching his attention away from the tv,”It would have looked better if you had gotten the heart filled in with red.”

He’s a little confused for a second before catching your line of sight. He rolls his eyes, jostling you slightly as he sat up to reach beside the bed. Now you’re the one confused.

“Well, if that was the case,” he rolls back over to present you with a red marker,”You wouldn’t get to do it yourself, now would ya’?”

You grab the marker, sparing glances between it and the proud look on Simon’s face.

Your man, This man really got a tattoo with the intent for you to do your silly little coloring on it.

Yep, definitely love him.

#ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x y/n #ghost fanfiction #fanfic #call of duty #ghost cod #reader insert #ghost fluff #fluff #writers on tumblr #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #x y/n

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ideas-live-forever · 9 months

Text

Business Trips With Ken!

inspiration strikes! i’m on a roll, i never usually write so much 😭. just some more ken headcanons/blurbs :))

send a request if you have one! i’m looking for some more ideas about what to write!

Ken LIVES to be around you

So when he learns that you have to travel for two weeks or so for your job, he’s a little bitheartbroken

The poor guy immediately assumes that he won’t even hear from you the whole time

You explain to him that you could still call him and talk every day, you just wouldn’t be in person with him for a little

He’s still very sad, but he does his best to be understanding

He helps you pack your bags and insists you bring a bunch of things you definitely don’t need for two weeks

“Y/n! You *have* to bring your favorite pillow!” Ken insists, pushing it towards you.

You take it in your hands and let out a soft laugh at his antics. He’s so worried about you, and you haven’t even left yet. It’s honestly adorable.

“The places I’m staying at have pillows, love. I’ll be fine.” You reply, your tone affectionate as you delicately set the pillow down.

“But what if they’re not as comfy? Then you won’t be able to sleep, so you might not be able to do work as well! And then you’ll get upset!” Ken persists in his actions, picking the pillow up again and hugging it to his chest. “Just take it, it’ll make me feel better. Please.”

How could you say no to that? Reluctantly, you pack the pillow in your suitcase, looking up to see a much less stressed out boyfriend.

“Okay, fine. Happy?”

“Very!” He says, smiling before he gets an idea. “While you’re at it, maybe you should bring this stuffed animal for luck.”

To your dismay, he holds up his favorite horse plush. His expression is so innocent and caring. It takes practically all of your willpower, but you manage to go without packing it.

You found that horse in your suitcase while on your trip

The next day, he insists on going with you to the airport, and he calls a taxi early in the morning for you two to get there

Ken doesn’t even let you NEAR your suitcase. He pulls it for you all the way to security

When its finally time for you to leave, he gets all teary eyed

Pulls you into a bone crushing hug.

“Call me as soon as you land, okay?” Ken says through sniffles, burying his head in your shoulder.

“I will. Promise.” You back away from the gif long enough to press a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. And we can call every day.”

Ken nods at that, blinking rapidly to try and stop the tears from really spilling down. He gives you a little smile, incredibly proud of you even though you have to be away from him. The noise of the bustling airport around you seems to draw you out of your sweet moment.

Teary goodbyes

He gives you a nice, long kiss on the lips before he lets go of you

When you finally go through security and he can’t see you anymore, he goes back home and texts you a ‘Safe flight!!! Love you so much!!’

You text him when you land, as promised, and he lets out a breath of relief

While you’re away, Ken is basically texting you all the time

Every time he sees something that remind him of you or he thought you might enjoy, he sends you a picture.

You answer him as soon as you have time too

And every day after work, you call him to catch up

He always picks up on the first ring with a “Y/n! I miss you :(“

If you’re in different time zones, he’ll definitely stay awake until unreasonable hours to talk to you

Until you make him hang up and go to bed

BUT if you have a rough at and tell him about it he will absolutely refuse to go to sleep until he knows you’re feeling better

He hates not being able to comfort you in person :((

Ken makes plans to pick you up when you land back home from your trip, but he can’t drive, so he calls a taxi again

You barely see Ken before he runs and hugs you, ignoring the weird looks he’s getting from the other people in the airport

He takes all your bags to the taxi and then sits next to you in the backseat, clinging onto your hand

Once you get home, he insists on you resting

“Ken, I should really unpack a little-“ You start as he practically pushes you into your room.

“No, you have to sleep! You were on a plane today. Get some rest. I’ll unpack. Then we can cuddle!” He says with a tone that sounds like he doesn’t plan on budging in his stance.

He keeps his promise

Ken unpacks all your bags as best as he can, putting things away correctly for the most part

Then, he joins you in the bed, grabbing you around you waist and kissing your forehead

Lots of ‘I love you’s

He falls asleep with you, excited to hear about your trip more in the morning

#ken x reader #barbie movie #ken carson #ken imagines #barbie #ken blurbs #ken headcanon #ryan gosling ken #stereotypical ken x reader #stereotypical ken headcanons

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peachsayshi · 5 months

Note

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH ok ok it’s me again! no but same i’m so “Choso on the brain” rn it’s not even healthy (leaving my acc visible cuz id really love to keep talking choso with you if you wanted! i’m not much of an active writer tho so ^^’)

I feel like Choso’s a good boy 🥺, or at least really tries to be. He knows he shouldn’t look. But the sounds of the shower running are almost deafening. The knowledge of your state behind the door, the steam traveling from the bathroom, making your scent all that much harder to ignore. It’s all an assault on his senses. Choso thinks he might explode, his body so tense it might snap from how hard he tried to keep himself sat on the edge of the bed.

(Truly don’t know how this would end up but i’d love to find out heheh)

(hiiii!! it’s nice to see you my fellow thirst buddy 🥹🧡 - also that’s absolutely fine! my ask box is open & I love chatting with you guys about our favorites 😭😭)

Oh, there are so many fun ways to play out this scenario 😏 because you’re right. Choso is a good boy. He’s a sweet boy. He does not want to overstep or come across as rude or untrustworthy. So, he breathes in to calm himself, his lashes fluttering because the scent coming from the bathroom is intoxicating. He slowly unties his hair, allowing it to fall to his shoulder then runs his fingers through the midnight strands in frustration. He undresses, removing his top in a meditative trance in an attempt to stop thinking about you lathering your smooth, soft skin in bubbling suds.

His cock twitches in his pants.

“Fuck,” he whispers; a rare swear leaving his lips. His shuts the door of the closet, his fingers pressing so hard into the wood he’s afraid he might hear it snap.

As desirable as the opportunity is, he refuses to take a peek at what’s going on behind the bathroom. He doesn’t even realize how tense he is until he hears the shower stop running.

Little trickles echo in the bathroom, the sound of your shuffling body drawing out an exhale from an exasperated choso.

What he doesn’t expect is for you to step out in a fluffy white towel cocooning your frame, the material barely covering his deepest of temptations. A sheen of dew makes your skin glow underneath the soft lighting, your anxious but curious eyes locking into his own.

“I forgot the bathrobe”

Your voice sounds so sensual despite the slight hesitation, a hesitation which might easily be mistaken as nerves. Choso clenches his fists by his side, the blood drawing to his thick member. His cheeks give him away instantly, burning a bright shade of red that makes him wish he could sink into the ground.

But he’s a good boy, like you said.

A sweet boy.

He simply clears his throat and opens up the cupboard to retrieve his robe. He hands it politely your way, mumbling “here you go” but hating the way his voice cracked.

He quickly side steps around you to head towards the bathroom, locking the door behind him. His back falls to the frame, and he slips his hand underneath his pants to squeeze his aching bulge while the other is fisted between his teeth as he stifles a moan of relief.

#(sorry for my delayed reply I typed this up yesterday but my period started >.<)#listen there are so many ways that this scenario can play out #poor baby cannot catch a break 😌#> mail 💌#> gab.💌#choso smut #choso imagine

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shotorozu · 1 year

Text

pretend boyfriend

(i use guardian because idk there was this one time i used “mom” in a though unrelated n old draft and i showed it to someone and they replied with “i don’t have a mom” 😧)

note(s): also this totally wasn’t inspired by something that happened to me some time ago 😭 and this upload is late so IGNORE that it’s no longer february (actually, for 10 days now) and focus on how i’m early for white day— basically a day in japan in which guys give chocolate to their crush or partner instead of girls giving chocolates to guys (which happens on valentines day) white day is on march 14 btw

»»————-　♡　————-««

you realize your sad plan for your single, partner-less white day— an extension of valentines day, backfired on you when your guardian asks you about a boyfriend upon your usual visit from school.

“what?” you question, sounding unbelieving of the question, like it was a collection of meaningless words. “i don’t have a boyfriend—”

“the chocolates say otherwise,” they point out, interested in the heart shaped box of sweets. “can i see a picture? i need to know if they’re good for you!”

what an… interesting way to determine who’s good for you. “there’s no boy— no one, trust me.” you insist, sounding a little more panicked than you would’ve liked— and this only fueled her suspicion.

“there has to be someone, you’re beautiful!” they insist. you would’ve felt complimented if it weren’t for the context of it all, and also the fact that they’re just talking about physicality “really, who gave it to you?”

you’re hesitant to say that you actually bought them yourself, not just to replicate the experience of having a significant other, (now that you’ve realized how hard you’ve been pining over someone incredibly unattainable)

but also because you couldn’t resist the contents of the box.

sure, you were given other pieces of chocolate and sweets from your classmates even some of the girls! (which wasn’t common to see on white day of all days) and a suspiciously expensive looking cupcake box landed on your table too.

(you didn’t eat it, you just couldn’t accept the fact that it wasn’t actually decor, until you went to eat lunch and smelled the thing.)

but those chocolates were obviously obligatory, considering the context of white day. besides, the box you bought was different— it had all your favorite flavors and it was from your favorite sweets brand. you just couldn’t help but tear a small portion of your allowance out of your wallet for this treat alone.

you don’t know what your guardian would say— they’d either insist that you’re lying, or they’d make fun of you, and none of these options sound appealing.

you deflate, not having a good defense. “… a friend.”

they don’t seem convinced. nobody used a friend to refer to their actual friend. you mentally beat yourself over this simple mistake.

this only proves their point, “hmm, okay..”

there’s a beat of silence.

“i’m still expecting a picture.”

your heart rate picks up, and you can feel your veins be filled with anxiety.

and now you’re returning to the dorms, absolutely mortified— and it clearly shows on your face based on how your best friend, todoroki shouto, approaches you at the front door with a concerned look.

“you look.. distressed.” he notes out loud, as he opens the door.

shouto’s quick to help you get your shoes off, letting you lean on him as you undo your shoelaces. he pulls off each shoe afterwards— the action so casual.

“it’s because i am, shouto!” you exclaimed, following him in. “i did something stupid and now i’m paying the consequences of my actions!”

shouto’s two toned brows furrow, there’s a deep look settled on his pretty face— and he draws all his focus on you. “whatever it is, we can fix it.”

“i’m sure but, my ego! my dignity!” you groan, and your hands cover your face as if it’ll burrow you away from the embarrassment and transport you to a place of peace.

“i won’t laugh,” he says, an indirect way of saying that he won’t absolutely clown you for any of your decision making skills.

shouto then holds his pinkie up, waiting for you to take it. it’s a clear show that he’s intent. “promise.”

“sure,” you say as you link pinkies, the warmth of his pinkie making embarrassment creep up your neck instantly. “i trust you.”

you breathe in as preparation. “i bought chocolates for myself and my guardian thinks i have a boyfriend and is asking for a picture, so now i’m screwed because i don’t have a boyfriend in the first place, and i’ve told them that i don’t but they just don’t believe me, so i might have to get a fake boyfriend for a picture!”

all of it just spilled out at once. you aren’t even sure if shouto understood, let alone was able to comprehend all of it due to the lack of reaction.

but when you carefully examine— you realize that a reaction slowly shows on his face, like it just dawned on him the information you’ve dumped.

“fake boyfriend.” he echoes, “for a picture.”

“yes!” you groan, mortified of the other possible solution of the matter being slapped in your face again, “and they need to be tall, handsome, and apparently someone that looks rich— don’t know how a picture can prove that, we don’t even have jobs.”

“anyway, they’ll just criticize me for my choice in people.” you sigh, “i’m lost.”

he folds his arms together, and he unintentionally flexes. your eyes follow the movement for a short second before you realize that you cannot be caught gawking at someone you’ve met when you were both five. “it appears you are quite in a situation.”

“yeah..”

“if only there was someone available to help.”

“yeah—”

“someone close to you.”

“i figured— it’d be awkward to ask someone who i’m not really close with to be my fake…” you trail off, brows furrowing when you realize there might be some insinuation in his words. you can’t tell what he is necessarily eluding to— but,

you take a good look at shouto— an very good look. you size him up, and he allows this as he is basically standing politely. there’s a fixed look of stillness in every aspect of his expression, and he’s calm when he speaks,

“i could play the role.” he suggests like he doesn’t understand the weight of his words, or he doesn’t care that much about it.

you can feel your heart in your throat all of a sudden, and the beat of it is becoming painfully loud.

“shouto,” you somehow manage to get out, “they know who you are.”

your deep rooted history together as close friends would be seen as a plus point, if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve refrained from showing (let alone hinting) any sign of your feelings for him. shouto did the same, except you are absolutely sure he doesn’t want anything more than platonic with you— as he has displayed no such signs.

the sudden shift of events would raise more questions instead of just solving one.

besides, who doesn’t know him nowadays? he’s tall, good looking, strapped with money and a multipurpose and hella useful quirk. heck— his appearance during the sports festival was a huge thing and has definitely made a positive mark on his reputation.

additionally, it was hard for your guardian to miss someone with an alluring presence like shouto’s, and a head full of naturally snow-like, and flaming red hair.

you think carefully before coming up with something easy. “what if i just asked one of the girls to wear an oversized hoodie; and stand on a stool? i’d crop out their face, of course. kyouka or yaomomo could—”

before you were allowed to finish your thought, shouto continued to press on his idea. “i’d be the most preferable, since the backstory makes the most sense.”

you pause. you’ve never thought of an actual backstory for you too, and you couldn’t quite indulge in the self blame— you didn’t think he’d agree at all.

“childhood friends turned best friends, and with a bond that drew us together.” his gaze fleets somewhere below your eyes, and then he draws them back up— a small boyish grin now blessing his face. “besides, you’d be in quite some trouble if they asked for a picture of their face.”

oh, that description sounded way too close to home, so much that you forgot. now that shouto mentioned one, that solution does seem to have its loop holes.

“touché.” the lengths he’d do for you is admirable, and your heart would’ve stuttered if it weren’t for the dull reminder from the back of your mind, of what it’s really like between the two of you.

“so uhm, what now? do you want to take the picture right later or—”

“now would be good.”

“oh uh, okay then…” shouto never wastes time, even when it came to unimportant stuff it seems, and he watches as you shift around to find your phone.

getting your phone is something that never takes any time, but with everything being taken account for, your hands are starting to feel like jelly.

after opening your camera app and switching to selfie mode, you position your phone carefully. not just like a photographer that was about to capture a rare wild animal laying still, but also similarly to how people take pictures with celebrities.

you are cautious of the angle. although you’ve almost seen every single expression that he could make— you’re worried how you could make everything look good, make him look phenomenal. (although it seems impossible to make him look anything but)

you end up snapping a photo that’s majorly of him, and the only show of you being in the same frame was the very top of your head shoved to the corner of the screen.

the two of you stare at the photo, exchanging glances. you might think that this is enough, considering that this photo of shouto is nowhere on the internet. so— plus one for authenticity, sorta.

he’s not your real boyfriend, but your guardian won’t know that from looking at the picture.

“let’s do a retake.”

you nearly stumble, like his words were a gust of strong wind. “huh?”

“this photo.. doesn’t seem authentic. i wouldn’t know what it’d be like to be in a relationship but the couples on television look— different. don’t you think?”

you take another look at the photo. although the couples shouto is referring to are actresses and actors playing roles— he’s right for the most part. the distance between the two of you is hard to miss, nobody would be able to guess that you two were together.

not to mention, it’s more of a picture of him instead of the both of you.

“alright then,” you say in agreement. “any suggestions?”

“if i may.”

“of course you may,” you encourage.

“then…” he shifts, feet moving closer to you. “if you’ll allow me.”

shouto’s hands reach out, and you’re immediately drawn to them. although unsure about his next course of action, you don’t stop him as he pulls you close— hands with contrasting temperatures maneuvering the positions to his liking.

eventually, the two of you were positioned in a way that made you encase shouto in your arms and have you turnt slightly towards the camera.

the side of your faces are pressed against each other’s, and despite trying your best to stop it, the proximity had your heart thumping against your ribcage once again.

making sure you don’t prolong the ordeal more than you need to— you snap the picture and attempt to pick yourself up afterwards.

but shouto makes no effort in detaching himself from you, relaxing in your arms as he leans against you to view the picture. you feel yourself flustering again, and you just know that he could end you one day and be blissfully unaware of how and why.

although you just took a big risk that could possibly have your feelings found out— you were just as curious as he was to see the outcome.

and you two seemed like a couple indeed.

“thoughts?” you ask in place of allowing yourself to slowly pass away on the inside. your skin feeling increasingly hot all of a sudden, and you’re confident the boy beside you has nothing to do with it this time.

“just as i suspected.” a small smile pulls at his lips, “we look good together.”

your brain buffers, “huh?—”

and then, he’s pressing his soft lips onto your cheek— pulling back as quickly as he pressed his lips onto you.

you choke on practically nothing, and you stare at him with eyes so wide they rival saucers.

and then it started to make sense, “what— are you playing me?— you’re doing all of this for a picture i didn’t even take!”

he tilts his head, confused for a moment before letting out a disapproving noise. “i… was teasing at some point, but i would never play you. i even pinkie swore.” he said, holding the same pinkie he linked with yours earlier to prove his memory.

“so why… after all this time?”

his gaze sharpens, “why not?” he states simply, “i figured just recently that.. the feelings are mutual, and that you’re interested in the way i’m interested in you.”

he clutches you, shoving himself deeper in your embrace, “besides, there was no way i’d let you ask anyone else to be your pretend boyfriend when i’m right here.”

“it would be just for a picture though.” you note, slightly amused that todoroki shouto was jealous at the idea of having a pretend boyfriend for a picture— even if said pretend boyfriend were to be one of the girls from your class.

a specific blank expression is pinned onto his face. “still.” he replies, quite dryly.

though the expression immediately melts away as he says these next words, “now then,” gorgeous, gorgeous heterochromatic eyes meeting yours in a gaze. shouto holds it, and it seems that he’s taking advantage of his effect on you. he’s quick, not to mention— observant too.

“we should take another picture, one that’s much real.”

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crimsonedquill · 9 months

Text

Their reaction to your battle scars during Steamy Time (Pt. 2) (Hogwarts Legacy)

Link to part 1

Here it is at last, the much-requested sequel featuring our holy trifecta of soft bois!

I’ll admit I struggle with writing for Amit and Garreth (it’s why I’m often procrastinating on requests for them, sorry loves 😭) but this turned out surprisingly well I think!

Also, Imelda has been excluded because I’m doing a separate requested fic with a similar premise for her.

Content warning: NSFW (18+). Some smut here and there, nothing too descriptive.

Sebastian Sallow 🐍

“That’s it, love, show me that cumming face…”

You honestly still find yourself a little amazed at all the things Sebastian’s hands seem to be capable of sometimes. As far as you can recall, there hasn’t been a single time between the sheets that didn’t end with you as a tangled sweaty mess, sculpted like clay under his experienced fingertips. Right now, for example, he’s fingering you so good that it’s slightly surprising you’ve only had five orgasms so far.

The Slytherin is looking up at you with a ravenous gaze, loving the sight of your body falling apart before his eyes. His free hand is caressing you through your sweater, your bottom garments having been lost to your throes of passion a long time ago. You love how much he always seems to want you, barely able to keep his hands off you even before you have stumbled your way into the bedroom. To others it may seem purely physical, but there’s always been a deeper element to his affection, a kind of protectiveness that never fails to have you melt at the soothing tone of his voice alone.

He’s chuckling now, his hand wandering while the other is preoccupied trashing you to your release. “Almost there, aren’t you, love? Go ahead… cum for your Sebby…”

The tiniest of smirks forms on your lips, remembering his hate for the nickname, though he never seems to be able to resist using it to hasten your climax. Sure enough, with a few more plunges of his fingers you crash over the edge, crying out his name as he kisses your neck.

As you come down from your euphoric high and Sebastian settles down next to you, you notice the pensive look on his face. You reach out to touch his hand. “Anything the matter?”

“Hm?” He looks at you. “Oh, no, not really. I suppose I was just wondering… well, you do trust me, right?”

You frown at the unexpected question. “Of course I trust you. Why, did I do anything to suggest otherwise?”

“No, you didn’t, I just –” He sighs, struggling with his words. “Look, I’ll be honest. I love you, I love your body, I love making you feel good. But every time we are having sex these days, it feels like there’s a… barrier between us. You’re holding back, for some reason, and I can’t help but think… is it me?”

You quickly sit up, your eyes widening. “No, Sebastian, I – no, of course not!”

“Then what is it?” His brown eyes are worried, full of tender concern. You know he would never judge you, and yet you‘ve never found it in you to be truly open with him.

“I…” You avert your gaze, inadvertently looking down at your torso. “It’s not you, it’s me.”

His hands find yours, fingers intertwining. “Tell me, then.”

Perhaps it’s the slightly commanding tone in his voice, or the way he’s touching you, providing you a sense of comfort you find hard to ignore. Either way, you draw a deep breath.

“I –“ Your voice shudders, the words sounding hopelessly pathetic as you speak them, “I don’t think I’m pretty.”

There’s a silence in the room as Sebastian considers the meaning of your confession. You’d expect him to laugh, or to tell you that you’re mad. Though if he’s thinking any of those things, his face isn’t showing it.

“Really?” he then asks, sounding more surprised than anything.

You nod feebly. You can’t help it. Ever since you were marked by the battles you’ve fought a long time ago, you were so afraid to be with anyone that meeting Sebastian seemed like a gift from heaven. You never wanted to risk losing him, even if it meant obscuring the truth.

He shifts so that he’s more or less sitting opposite you, catching your gaze even as you try to look away. “You said you trusted me, didn’t you?”

You just nod again, too shy to say anything. You freeze up as his fingers slide under your sweater, nails grazing lightly across your skin.

“Lift your arms for me?” He sounds so kind, so warm, like a glow enveloping you like a blanket, safe from the world. You comply, feeling your skin being exposed inch by inch.

“Easy,” he coos. “Slow breaths. Keep your eyes on me.”

And then your sweater is gone, and you sit there, perfectly bare. You cross your arms across your chest in a futile gesture, a dark flush spreading down from your face as you feel Sebastian observing you, seeing you.

He’s surprisingly quiet. No words of surprise, no jokes. He’s simply sitting there, letting his eyes wander. Then he reaches out.

“May I?” he inquires, looking up at you for your approval as he places a hand on your arm. You allow him to uncross your arms, closing your eyes and turning your head away as the anxiety becomes to heavy to bear. Surely he must be disappointed. He’s just too kind to show it.

Then you suddenly feel a hand cupping your cheek. He kisses your jawline, slowly, provoking a sigh as you feel part of your tenseness leaving you. He gently lays you back on the bed, finally causing you to open your eyes, met by the sight of his warm smile.

“Dear,” he says, in a half-chuckle that sends a shiver down your spine, “you are beautiful.”

And then his lips are on your collarbone, and your response is lost in a moan as he begins exploring you, nursing every bare inch. He kisses every scar, tracing the crude lines down your chest, your abdomen, your nether region. As he inches ever so closer to your sensitive spot, your fingers finding their way into his messy hair, you realise something.

You feel pretty. And it’s the last clear thought you have before you close your eyes and give yourself away to the waves of your shared pleasure.

Amit Thakkar 🦅

“May I kiss you?”

He’s sitting opposite you on the bed, his voice slightly high-pitched, trembling with anticipation. Even though you have always been good at projecting confidence at the very least, your skill seems to fail you today as you nod shyly, feeling your heart swell in your chest as his lips approach yours.

The kiss is… surprisingly adequate. Nothing special, though certainly not the disaster you had been anticipating. If anything, it’s even a little… arousing, the way he tenderly moves his tongue, using it to part your lips and seek contact with yours. Sure, it’s not like you haven’t kissed before, but even so he seems far more in control of his movements than you are. A sudden thought crosses your mind as you move slowly on the rhythm of your kiss; that somehow, Amit is more ready for this than you are.

It feels… odd, to say the least. Normally you are the assertive one, always taking charge while Amit is content with following you around. That he is the one guiding you now in these most vulnerable of moments is one you definitely didn’t see coming.

You separate, the both of you blushing. “Was that… good?” Amit asks.

You nod. “Yeah… yeah, it was.”

His face lights up, almost eliciting a chuckle from you. He’s always happy to receive great marks.

“So… can I touch you now?”

It takes a little longer for you to give your approval than when he asked to kiss you. It’s not the first time you have put your hands on each other either, though that was always with your clothes on. You want to be able to go all the way with him this time… and that thought terrifies you more than anything.

His hands move gently and deliberately, following the curves of your body. He may seem as shy as you are, but it’s obvious that he wants you. It causes you to momentarily drop your guard as you sigh deeply, letting your head crane back ever so slightly as he feels you in all the right places.

Then he moves to lift your blouse, and you snap back to reality.

His eyes find yours as you grab his wrist to stop him. You blush, immediately trying to explain yourself. “Amit, eh, perhaps –”

But words fail you. You’d spent so long building up to this moment that you feel bad backing out now.

There’s a momentary pause, and then Amit takes both of your hands into his. You’re surprised to see him… smiling.

“My dear,” he says, “I understand. You’re always so brave, so unyielding, that it must be a strange thing for you to be vulnerable like this. We don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to. But… I am ready to do this with you, if you are.”

Great, now you feel bad. Telling yourself to get your act together, you let out a shivering sigh. “I… I want this too. But let’s take it slow, all right?”

“Of course,” he nods, before seemingly getting a thought. “I may have an idea – turn around for me?”

Frowning, you turn your back to him. You feel his arms wrap around you and then he’s suddenly embracing you from behind, his warmth pressing up against you as his mouth hovers close to your ear. “Better?”

You nod. It does feel good. Though what makes it even better are his lips on your neck, gently suckling on that sensitive piece of skin that has your heart thumping within minutes.

Your breath grows heavier, more ragged, and you’re so lost in the moment that you don’t even feel the thin fabric sliding down your shoulders. Though you do sense it when he pulls back, and you suddenly realise your back is exposed.

He doesn’t say anything, at least, not at first. You can feel his eyes bore into you, his fingers reaching out to examine your scars with almost scientific curiosity. Your mind is rushing with thoughts, seeking the words to explain, to justify, but then your breathing stops at the sound of his chuckling. Oh Merlin, he’s chuckling.

“They look like constellations,” he says. You furrow your brow, slightly turning your head. “What?”

“Your scars. Look,” He traces a line near your left shoulder blade. “Corvus,”

He trails further down, finding a mark on your lower back, “Capricornus,”

And finally, his hand rests on a spot toward your right side. “Lacerta.”

You keep frowning, though you are unable to resist a smile at the enthusiastic tone in his voice. “You… you don’t mind them?”

“Not at all. I think they look… pretty.” He leans forward to kiss you on your cheek. “Was this what you were so nervous about?”

“I… I suppose I was.” It sounds almost comical now, the way your worries amounted to nothing. He starts peppering your shoulders with little kisses once more, drawing a sigh from your lips.

“I want to study them,” he coos between kisses. “To chart them, to map every detail of your exquisite body.”

You chuckle, your nerves finally loosening. “You want to study me?”

“Why not? I know for a fact you would make for a truly… fascinating subject.”

As intriguing as the thought sounds, you feel you have a better idea. With the initial apprehension and shame having melted away, you are suddenly rather eager to completely cede yourself to your lover. You move back, pressing your butt up against his pelvis, Amit rewarding you with a shocked gasp. There’s no doubt about it, all that talk about constellations and your body has made him hard as hell.

“Nice instrument you have there,” you say, voice thick with lust, “care for a demonstration?”

The heaviness of his breathing is only drawn out by the sound of his trousers being loosened. A delicious shiver ripples through you as his length presses up against your bottom, warm and throbbing. You are both nervous, anxious about the bond you are about to seal, though it’s like none of that matters anymore as he finally enters you, stretching you to your limits.

Constellations, you think with a smirk, as your vision explodes into a sea of stars.

Garreth Weasley 🦁

“Come again?”

The Gryffindor perches up from his seat, looking at you over the many bottles spewing out coloured puffs of smoke. You instantly realise this was a bad idea. Nevertheless, you repeat your query, letting out a sigh as you cross your arms. “I was asking if, hypothetically speaking, there was a potion that could make scars disappear.”

He cocks an eyebrow, obviously not having expected the question. At least, not from you.

“Well uh,” he says, scratching behind his ear, “I suppose it depends on the size, and the kind, things like that. Why do you ask, did I leave a hickey last time?”

You roll your eyes. “No. I didn’t even say it was for me.”

“Well, that much is a given. You’re the only one who’s so self-conscious about their image they need about fifty different charms every morning.”

That does it. “You know what, forget I asked,” you bristle, turning on your heels to stamp out of the classroom. Before you are able to leave, though, Garreth quickly steps around the table, blocking your path. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry – that was uncalled for.”

“You’d think?” you snarl, though your gaze is already softening. You’ve never really been able to get truly mad at the Gryffindor, knowing that most of the time he’s simply a goof with a habit of running his mouth.

“Look, err,” he says hesitatingly, “there’s no way I can say this without sounding at least moderately offensive. But – I’ve seen you knock down trolls thrice your size. Why of all things is this the thing you choose to be insecure about?”

You flash him a look. “If it were a choice, I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

“Right, but still.” He takes a step closer to you. “I think you’re pretty as you are. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“Of course it does, but…” You sigh. “You’ve never actually seen me.”

It’s true, he hasn’t. Even though the two of you have been taking it steadily for a couple of months now, you’ve never gotten much intimate beyond making out sessions or quick handjobs in the bathroom. Part of you is grateful for his patience, for his lack of questions about your odd habit of always wearing long sleeved sweaters, though he’s never been really good at hiding his eagerness to see more of you. And obviously you’ve felt the urge too, though…

“Show me, then.”

You blink, thinking you misheard. “What?”

Garreth smiles at you. “Come on, think of it as another challenge. I’m sure, at the end of this, you realise it’s all in your head.”

You want to tell him off, but… you can’t. As much as the thought frightens you, perhaps taking this one step is all you need to finally get over your fear.

“You mean… in here?” you ask, looking around the Potions classroom. It’s isolated at the moment, though you don’t find the possibility of anyone walking in at you much appealing.

Garreth thinks for a moment. “I have an idea. Follow me,”

He walks over to a door in the corridor and swiftly unlocks it with a charm. As soon as you’ve both stepped inside, he turns around and locks it again. You look around you and see a desk and shelves stacked with all kinds of potion ingredients.

“Sharp’s office?” you snap at him in a whisper.

“He won’t be back for a good while,” Garreth says, shrugging. “Black’s got him running some inane errand again. Besides, the forbiddenness of it all is rather exciting, don’t you think?”

You shake your head. Silly goof. Garreth leans back against the desk, crossing his arms. “Right, then. Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”

You thought you could do it, but now that you’re standing here with the Weasley boy looking at you, you suddenly feel shy again. You simply fidget a bit, not really feeling inclined to take any action.

Garreth cocks an eyebrow. “Still nervous? Darling, you’re looking at a fellow whose mug looks like this –” he points at his own face with a funny gesture – “and you honestly feel you have a right to complain?”

You chuckle, slightly harder than you’d meant to because of the nerves. You appreciate his meagre attempt at humour, even though it’s doing little to encourage you, which he seems to be realising as well.

“Still nothing?” he asks. “All right, tell you what, why don’t I go first?”

You are about to ask what he means when he suddenly pulls his shirt over his head. You can’t help but stare as you take in his well-defined torso, every inch of skin covered in light freckles.

“Weasley family curse,” he says with a grin. “And you thought you had it bad.”

There’s a beat as you stand there, looking like you’ve been struck by lightning. Maybe you would never admit it openly, but he does look like quite the snack. It has you involuntarily growing red in the face.

Trembling like a leaf, you start pulling at your sweater, lifting the garment ever so slowly. Garreth’s eyes linger as you bare yourself to him, tongue slipping past his lips to wet them. You don’t know what he’s thinking. You’re not sure you even want to know. All you can do is look away and desperately wish you’ll spontaneously turn invisible as you bunch your sweater up around your chest, nothing but air shrouding your scarred waist from his hungry gaze.

Before you can proceed any further, he suddenly steps forward, kneeling in front of you. You’re too shocked to say anything as he grabs your hips and moves his head toward your abdomen. There’s a slightly tickling sensation as you feel him blowing – actually blowing – on your stomach.

“What are you doing?” you ask, not knowing whether to sound amused or confused.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks, pausing just a moment to look up at you with joy-filled eyes. “I’m blowing the scars away.”

You’re genuinely lost for words. He doesn’t seem to care. He simply continues to blow on the pink markings, causing the little hairs on your skin to stand up in titillated delight.

“You’re a fool,” you finally chuckle, your trepidation breaking under his boyish charm.

“I know,” comes the reply from underneath the mess of red curls. “And you love me for it.”

His lips advance, touching your skin. Wet, soft. A sigh escapes your lips as you feel him trail down, kissing, loving.

He’s right, and you know it.

#hogwarts legacy #harry potter #sebastian sallow #amit thakkar #garreth weasley #Sebastian sallow x reader #amit thakkar x reader #garreth weasley x reader #hogwarts legacy headcanons

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