#might as well throw out the rest of my shame and make it a self insert one too. as a treat

[euthymiya]

I GIVE YOU MYSELF — AVENTURINE (KAKAVASHA)

contents: female reader, implied sexual activity (but no explicit content), post coital conversations, hints at aventurine’s past, he tells reader his name for the first time, he is implied to return after penacony

aventurine is quiet after sex. which is a stark contrast to his usual self—he’s not quiet a lot of the time. he fills the silence with smooth talk and sweet drawls and overly loaded words to make up for the empty shell underneath. but after sex, he’s quiet. unresponsive, even. you think he’s hardly registering the rake of your nails across his scalp as you play with his hair.

his eyes are closed, fluttered shut as his head lays on your chest. a shame, you think, his eyes are far too beautiful to hide away like that, even for the sake of rest.

you know he doesn’t see them that way—but it’s not like he can be blamed. the world has always seen his eyes as less than what they truly are, and it’s only natural he takes to hiding them. typically, it’s behind those glasses of his, and you mourn the beauty of the ring of blue in his pupils as soon as the lens covers them up.

“cat got your tongue?” you murmur finally, breaking the silence and flicking the middle of his forehead affectionately. he blinks, snapping out of his trance as he peers up at you before throwing that lopsided grin on his face again.

it’s almost too easy—plastering on such a mask.

“well, if you want me to fill the silence i can certainly think of a method or two,” he winks, “just say the word.”

“haven’t you already gotten enough,” you raise an amused eyebrow as he chuckles. “don’t test your luck.”

“i always test my luck, sweetheart,” he grins, “it works doesn’t it?”

you haven’t seen him in weeks. six and a half, to be exact. forty-six days. one thousand, one hundred and fifty hours. he leaves in the morning, the last time you see him—you plant that hat of his on his head yourself as you kiss him goodbye.

i’ll be back soon, he told you.

don’t keep me waiting, you murmured between gentle pecks along his jaw.

his hand had quivered a bit in your grasp before he left, you couldn’t help but think at the time.

but he’s different somehow, now that he’s returned. you’re not sure how or why, but something about him is different. perhaps it’s the way he claimed your lips tonight, far more taking and far more confident than he’s ever allowed himself to be. like he deserves to be able to take (he does) and deserves to have someone give (you’ll always give). his hands are more daring with the way they explore you, mapping along the ridges and curves of your supple skin in ways he never indulged before.

perhaps, if you had to put a label on it, tonight it wasn’t sex. perhaps tonight, it was love you made. not that you’ve never loved him before this—you’ve loved him for quite a while now. but this time, he allows himself to love you. freely, that is.

you still don’t know his name. not properly, anyway. you’re certain he wasn’t introduced to this world as aventurine—but it’s all he’s ever given you, so you adopt the title baby. it’s easier that way, to feel like a real couple. a normal one.

come back safe, baby. how was your day, baby? goodnight, baby. i’ll see you when you come back, baby.

it’s all you know how to say. one day, if you’re patient enough and love him carefully, he might tell you his given name. you hold onto hope for that—but you’ll love him even if he doesn’t.

“and where have you been all these weeks,” you scold lightly. there’s hardly any hurt in your voice, though he can make out the lingering worry. “you left me to wonder if you were dead, baby.”

there it is again—baby. the word could practically be his name at this point, not a title of affection or a testament of your endearment. at this point, it almost feels like that’s who he is. baby. your baby.

something about it feels so wonderfully natural.

he’s silent for a moment before he murmurs, “kakavasha.”

“hm?” you furrow your eyebrows, scrunching them in confusion. “come again?”

“that’s my name,” he says quietly, “i…you can call me kakavasha.”

“kakavasha,” you test the name on your tongue, feeling him tense for a moment before he relaxes as soon as your fingers soothe through in his hair. you smile, grinning ear to ear as you repeat, “kakavasha. what a precious name. you’ve hid it for so long, you devious thing.”

he wrinkles his nose as you poke the tip, earning a giggle from you.

“i had to,” he whispers, nibbling on the tip of your finger.

i’m sorry, he wants to say.

you know bits and pieces of aventurine—kakavasha. those precious little sigonian eyes and that dreadful carving on the skin of his neck hint at enough. he doesn’t tell you, but something’s are easier to leave unsaid, letting the pieces fall slowly into place without the harsh breeze of bitter words. perhaps you’d always known that the man you love was never yours first, that he was always the property of someone else before you, before himself.

but something’s changed. kakavasha comes home different. he gives himself to you, by name and by body, by touch and feel and intimacy in ways he never could before. he gives himself away to you instead of keeping himself locked away.

you’ll keep him safe, you think. for a man who’s never truly had himself to hand you the pieces so easily, so hopefully, you couldn’t bear to let him down.

“kakavasha is beautiful,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks, lifting his head enough to plant a careful kiss to his lips. they quirk into a dazzling smile—not a plastered mask this time, but the real thing.

and a beautiful thing it is, his smile. laced with childlike glee and innocence that the world stripped away all too soon.

“i like baby better,” he says smoothly, “don’t you think it fits more?”

“i think fool fits you best if you really want my opinion,” you tease. (he pouts at that, and you know it’s only for the sake of getting another kiss pressed to his curled lips.)

“i won’t be asking for your opinion again,” he grumbles.

“but baby,” you drawl, scattering pecks along his cheeks and forehead, “don’t be like that. i was only teasing.”

he taps his cheek expectantly, waiting for another kiss, and of course, you oblige through a fit of delighted giggles. who are you to deny him, after all? after he’s been denied of so much already.

“i’ll stay this time,” he murmurs after some time (when he’s thoroughly satisfied demanding your unwavering affections), laying against your chest once more, “i won’t have to leave anymore.”

they won’t make me go.

“good,” you whisper, fingers tracing shapes into his bare back, suspiciously close to letters that spell kakavasha along his skin. he shivers under your touch, leaning impossibly closer. “you’re all mine now, then.”

“all yours,” he confirms. and finally, he can mean it.

i am so excited for his banner you guys don’t even know. if i don’t get him i’m going to eat a rattlesnake

#writing tag #aventurine x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #kakavasha x reader #aventurine x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #kakavasha x you #aventurine fluff #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #kakavasha fluff

[cecilysobsessions]

STRIP THAT DOWN (m.) | gojo

↬ word count: 7k

↬ fem!reader, stripper!gojo, sub!gojo, inspiration comes from magic mike

↬ genre: fluff / smut

↬ summary: as the owner and operator of an all-male strip club, you cater to the women that prefer the pretty and feminine younger boys to give them lap dances. oddly enough, your most popular and most requested dancer is gojo satoru. he’s too muscular, too handsome, and entirely too annoying. and, of course, he doesn’t seem to be aware you find him irritating. 

↬ warnings: gojo wearing lingerie, gojo begging, gojo got a finger fetish, gojo getting spanked, anal (m. receiving but unfortunately no pegging 😔), gojo bent over a desk, typos but pretend you don’t see them

↬ a/n: this is for everyone that love men who whimper (myself) also i just turned 21! 🎉

m.list

•••

“Your hands feel so soft,” he says more to himself than you. Then, “I wonder how they’d feel in my mouth.”

“What?” you stifle a laugh and smile.

“What?”

•••

As the owner and operator of an all-male strip club, it wasn’t exactly as fun as some might think. 

You were constantly stuck helping your dancers adjust their g-strings between sweaty ass cheeks, constantly sewing back up ripped underwear, constantly throwing out people who got a little too touchy, and more gross things you’d rather not think about. 

After being in the business yourself for several years, your boss had mentioned that you had an eye for running things, so you thought you’d give it a try yourself. You just didn’t think you’d end up running an all-male strip club. 

You’re not sure how it happened—and you’d rather not focus on that right now because one of your dancers is waving a bra in your face, his voice frantic and panicked.

“BOSS! Hello?! I need help!” he aggressively waves the garment in front of your eyes.

“Why are you going to wear a bra for tonight’s show?” you raised an eyebrow.

“Suguru doesn’t even have enough chest to fit in that size!” you heard a voice from across the room. You were currently helping your dancers with a show tonight, stressed because your name was being called in a different direction every five seconds.

It was Gojo.

The brattiest, most entitled, self-centered, good for nothing employee of yours. Good God, every time he spoke you grew irritated, even if he wasn’t talking to you. Although he annoyed you to death with his overly talkative and cocky personality, he was the best dancer here. 

Even though you catered to older women who preferred younger more feminine men, Gojo brought in the most money, brought more customers back, helped scout more dancers, and helped train the most. You hated to admit it, but he really was your most valuable employee. 

“Don't body shame Suguru,” you half-heartedly scolded Gojo, watching him as you helped Geto. 

Gojo was yanking up a pair of skinny jeans past his long legs, struggling to fit into them because his ass wasn’t exactly the flattest. Although skinny jeans might not be trendy right now, the long length and the plump curve of his ass suited it well. Somehow sensing your staring, Gojo turns to you, the corners of his mouth turning up into a sly smirk.

“What’re ya starin’ at?” he asks you with a seductive smile.

You gag. “Get pants that fit better next time.” 

“Oh? Maybe I should just wear no pants then.” he teases and you respond with a roll of your eyes.

After helping the rest of your dancers with their various costumes, you gathered them for a quick before-shift pep talk.

“Alright boys, before we start tonight I want to let you know that one of our regulars, Mina, will be here tonight. Does anybody want to explain who she is to the newbies?”

“She’s an old rich lady who’s picky and has a shit ton of annoying ass requests that’ll make you want to rip your hair out and quit.” Gojo quickly chimes in. 

Being the favorite of the club had its downsides. For private dances, Mina almost always exclusively chose Gojo. Although she tips him well, he always complains about her to you afterwards. Without fail. Every single time.

“And what kind of requests?” you ask Gojo so that he will explain to the newer boys.

“She’ll ask to touch a lot of things if you do a private dance for her. It’s up to you on what you’re comfortable with, but when we’re out on the floor, no one’s allowed to touch anything.” he explains.

Although Gojo himself could be annoying and a burden to deal with, he is good at what he does. Without him, your club would have shut down a long time ago.

“Alright, thank you, Gojo. Let’s have fun tonight, shake some ass and make some money!” you declare and your employees cheer with their fists up. 

When you go to open the doors, the line outside begins to pile in. Nodding to your bouncer in acknowledgement, you watch the club goers by the entrance as you keep an eye out for your regulars or anyone who seems new. As you greet the women walking in, you feel someone bump shoulders with yours. Looking to your side, you look up to see Gojo standing by you in a silk robe and cowboy hat.

“Hey, boss.”

“Shouldn't you be getting ready?”

“I am ready. I got a cowboy bit tonight. The ladies will love it.” he tips his hat at you, playfully winking.

“I’m sure they will.” you spot Mina walk in, watching her take her usual seat towards the front of the stage.

“Will you watch me tonight?”

“No. I’ve got work to do in my office.”

You see Gojo look down and pout in the side of your eye. He’s disappointed. Well, he can stay disappointed. It’s not like this is the only time you can see him dance. 

“But Mina is here. I’d feel more comfortable knowing you’re on the floor if she asks me for a dance. I don’t want her trying anything.”

“She won’t.”

“Still. Please?” Gojo’s eyes have a natural sparkle in them it’s hard to say no. The way he so effortlessly holds eye contact with you and begs you through his eyes pisses you off.

“We’ll see.”

••• 

If there was one thing you didn’t want, it was any of your dancers feeling uncomfortable in the presence of any of your customers. Pushing aside all the paperwork that was piled up, you made your way to the floor when it was Gojo’s time slot.

You snaked your way through the back of the crowd, your eyes and ears struggling to adjust to the moving colorful lights and the wild screams and cheers from the women in the audience. You lean against a wall, watching Gojo as he gracefully circles a chair on the stage, sitting on it to hump the air aggressively as he rocks his hips to the slow slutty song he’s chosen for tonight. He seems visibly tense, but you don’t know why. When you look closely, you realize his eyes are searching for someone, perhaps Mina. You watch him feel himself up, hands moving to unbutton his shirt before he rips it off and throws it into the crowd of women. 

His hands teasingly run over his nipples, squeezing his pecs as he teases his audience more by unbuckling his belt. He looks down at his belt before he takes it off, tossing that item into the audience too. His eyes look back up, continuing to look for someone.

Gojo makes eye contact with you. 

Then, a smile of relief.

From then on to the end of the dance, you watch him visibly relax and loosen up a bit more. He’s feeling himself and having more fun, and you’re glad that you came out to watch him like he asked you to.

•••

You’re sitting at the bar massaging your temples with your fingers, a lousy attempt to soothe your worsening headache. You swear under your breath, regretting that you didn’t take painkillers the moment you began to feel your headache. Thankfully, the lights were dimmed and all your dancers had gone home so it was just you as you finished up your final paperwork for the night. You felt absolutely miserable doing it, though. Tonight was just one of those nights.

“Rough night?” you heard the entrance door being unlocked as a shadowed figure stepped in. Walking into the dimmed light, you watched Gojo approach you, a canned drink in his hand.

“Thirsty?” he offers, opening the soda can and handing it to you as he sits next to you, his knee brushing against your leg. 

“I don’t even like soda,” your eyes linger on his leg that has brushed up against yours, ignoring the fact that he feels warm against you.

“Yeah, well, that’s the first thing I saw at the convenience store.” he chuckles obnoxiously, and you can’t help but continue to stare at his knee that is still brushed up against your leg. 

“I thought you left,” you decide to ignore the warmth you feel from his long legs as you focus on doing your paperwork. You just want to go home. “I saw you leave.”

“I know you want to go home,” he answers, propping his chin on his hand and watching you write something down. “So I came back to help. You seemed a little off tonight.”

“I was not.”

“Was it because I came in late? Were you wondering why I was late when I’m never late?”

“You were late?!” you didn’t even notice.

“You didn’t even notice,” Gojo pouts, one of his hands coming down to rest on the surface, near the paperwork you’re doing. You can’t help but stare at his long fingers, your eyes tracing the prominent veins on his hand. 

When you look up, his eyes are staring into yours through his sunglasses that sit crookedly on his nose. You don’t know if he was always sitting so close, but right now his face was leaning into yours, holding eye contact with you as his eyes gazed into yours. He blinks slowly, watching you for any sort of reaction to his stupid deep gaze.

“If you come in late again you’re fired.” you spit out in a panic and look back down to your paperwork. His stupid blue eyes were distracting you and you didn’t want him to know just how much it was affecting you. What was wrong with you?

He lights up, his smile reaching his eyes. He seems satisfied now that you’ve said something. “Yes, ma’am. Tell me what you need help with.”

“Just lock everything up.”

“That’s it?”

“And fix your glasses.”

“The crookedness adds to my sexiness. Anything else?”

“I don’t trust you to do anything else.”

“What about taking you home? Do you trust me doing that?” he playfully asks. 

“I can get home just fine.”

“It’s not safe. And besides, can’t I spend time with my favorite person?” he teases, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“You really won’t leave me alone, huh?”

“I really don’t want to.”

“Gojo,” you begin. You didn’t have the time or energy to banter with him.

“Call me by my first name.” he asks, a slight pout on his pretty lips.

“That’s weird.”

“But you call Suguru by his first name. Why not me?”

You’re surprised he noticed a small detail like that. “No. And Gojo?” you say as you stand, wondering if he’ll pout about it again.

“Yes?” he’s standing up now, his eyes peering down into yours as he looks at you from up above. He’s more than a full head taller than you, and the fact that he’s staring down at you with an air of arrogance and his stupid smirk makes you want to put him in his place.

There is a moment of tension that rises. It hangs thick in the air and feels dependent on you. On what you will do. On what you will say. You’re not sure what makes it too weird compared to the other late nights you spent with Gojo closing. 

Maybe it’s the dimmed lights or the late hours, but Gojo was looking at you with bedroom eyes so you forced yourself to look towards the door behind him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” you start packing up your stuff. Now that Gojo is bothering you, you decide that you’ll just finish everything at home.

“Wait,” his hand lands on the top of yours, his thumb slightly caressing your knuckles to stop you from gathering your things.

“I wanted to thank you for tonight. For watching me. For… for being there for me.” his voice fades, and you know it’s because he's feeling shy and embarrassed. He’s docile and quiet, something he often does when he gets vulnerable with you. You find it quite adorable.

“You’re welcome.” you go to ruffle his hair, but as you’re about to pull your hand away, he catches it one more, moving it so that you’re caressing his cheek. It’s soft, sculpted.

You watch him stare at you in awe. If anybody walked in at this moment, they would think it’s loving and intimate. 

“I really thought you wouldn’t come out.” he confesses in a whisper, nuzzling against your palm as his eyes close in bliss. 

“Clearly you thought wrong.” you don’t make a move to pull away, and neither does he.

When his eyes open, they are droopy. Gojo smiles softly, guiding your knuckles to his mouth as he presses a gentle kiss to them. When you give him a small smile, he kisses your hand again, this time it’s your ring finger. He kisses the back of your hand, then turns your arm so that he can kiss the inside of your wrist. And finally, his soft lips make their way to caress your palm as he kisses your hand one last time.

You’re not surprised Gojo is being physically affectionate with you. After all, he’s physically affectionate with almost everyone at the club, so it’s not weird to see him kissing people’s cheeks and giving bear hugs to every person he sees. But what he’s doing right now… it’s oddly intimate. Something you thought he’d never do. Especially since he isn’t saying anything playful or flirty. He’s completely serious right now, eyes unwavering as he watches for your reaction.

“Clearly I did.” He may not be kissing your hand anymore, but he’s holding it in his and studying it; watching it as if it’s fascinating. His thumb smooths over your skin, rubbing it gently with love. You feel your heartbeat speed up all of a sudden, your cheeks hot with embarrassment. 

“Your hands feel so soft,” he says more to himself than you. Then, “I wonder how they’d feel in my mouth.”

“What?” you stifle a laugh and smile.

“What?”

•••

It was 10am. And Gojo was staring down at you, shades sitting on top of his nose, his eyes peeking out from underneath. You had given Gojo a spare key to your apartment in case of emergencies since he lives a little far from the club and you’re closer. He usually let you know in advance if he was coming over to crash at your place, and the times he did it was because it was too late and he was too tired to go to his own place. But today he decided not to and he knows you don’t get up until after noon so why the hell was he here now and what did he want?

“Get out.” you spat out, crankiness lacing your voice as you turned your body to the other side of the bed and covered your face with the blanket.

“It’s an emergency.”

“Call an ambulance.”

“But it’s a fashion emergencyyy,” he pleads, gently shaking your shoulder. “I forgot to buy lingerie for tonight’s show.”

Tonight was a Saturday night, which meant it was going to be busy. Lots of customers which meant lots of tips. On nights like these, Gojo always decided to dance to something more erotic, sexier than his usual dances. He had mentioned a couple nights ago that he wanted to try out lingerie for the weekend.

“Take Suguru. Leave me alone.” you shooed him away from under the covers.

“But you live closer to the mall. Pleaaaaase? I’ll buy you breakfast and your morning coffee.” he asked.

Your head peaked from beneath the blanket and you eyed his outfit. A black compression shirt and grey sweatpants. You looked away quickly, trying to ignore how well the shirt fit snug around his biceps and chest area, and how low his sweatpants hung on his hips you caught a glimpse of his v-line.

“Fine. But you come in early to help set up. Since you were late the other day.”

You tried to ignore the looks people were giving you at the mall, but you couldn’t help but notice how everyone’s stares lingered on Gojo, or how you saw women old enough to be your grandma giving googly eyes at Gojo everytime the two of you walked by. You knew he was attractive, so why did you feel a pang of jealousy anytime anyone stared at him in awe? 

Gojo just had to wear the tightest and smallest clothes he could find. The way his pecs were so clearly defined from his stupid compression shirt and how tightly snug it was and how if you looked closely enough and for long enough, you’d notice the slight bump of his nipples through the thin fabric. 

Not to mention his sweats. Fitted, but still loose. Fitted as in you could make out the shape of the curves of his ass as he walked, but loose around his hips that his sweatpants were barely hanging by a thread. It was distracting. Eyeing him again as he sifted through lingerie, you try to ignore the slight bulge through his pants. 

“—don’t you think?” Gojo asks, turning to you and holding up the thinnest, sluttiest lingerie you’ve ever seen. It was black and thin and lacy and delicate looking. Gojo would definitely rip it while dancing.

“Too thin,” you shook your head, pretending to ignore whatever he said because you were too busy checking him out.

Turns out he noticed you staring. “You don’t even know what I said.” he tilts his head to look at you. Eyeing you up and down.

“I know what you said. I’m just ignoring you.” you brushed him off, suddenly self conscious and walking to another section of the store and searching through the different sets of lingerie.

“You were too busy looking at my tits to hear anything I said.” Gojo follows you, smirking down at you with his usual stupid arrogance that pisses you off. 

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Jealous because they’re bigger than yours?” his eyes slightly moved down to your chest, before gazing back up into your eyes.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Stop changing the subject. Here,” you picked up a bra and panty set that seemed more suitable for stripping. “You won’t rip this accidentally.” It was red and thicker and less lacy than the other set he picked up, but this one was definitely sexier and bolder. 

“I’ll try it on.”

You assumed people thought you and Gojo were shopping for you because unless you’re being dramatic, you definitely felt stares of jealousy from random people who walked by. And when Gojo asked an associate to try on his clothes—hangers of solely lingerie, you ignored the stares again. You were sitting outside the dressing room when you felt your phone ringing and saw that it was Gojo.

“Come in and help me.” he immediately said when you picked up.

“What? Why?”

“It’s—it’s a little stuck. I can't take it off. Shit’s way too tight.” he whispers through the phone.

“Why did you put it on in the first place if it was too small?” you lectured.

“I thought I could take it off! I didn’t think it’d be this hard. Help me.” you could hear the desperation and panic in his voice through the phone.

You rolled your eyes, hanging up the phone and walking up to the employee by the dressing rooms. 

“My friend needs help taking off their clothes. Mind if I go in?” she brushed you off with a wave and you walked into the dressing room area, trying to look near the floor to get a peek at which room Gojo was in.

“Gojo?” you whispered, hoping the other customers wouldn’t hear. 

You instantly saw his hand come from beneath the dressing door, waving you towards him. When he opened the door and let you in, your eyes took in the sight in front of him. 

He was right. The lingerie was way too tight around his body. The bra squished his chest together too tightly you saw a cleavage forming and it was for sure better than yours. Looking down at the panties had you staring at him in silence. It was too small you could see his dick slightly sticking out, his tip a soft pink.

“Stop staring and help me!” he stood there and whisper-yelled at you. His hands automatically covered his crotch and your eyes moved back up to his face. His face was flushed, almost looking like the afterglow after sex. His cheeks were a pretty pink and his eyes were looking everywhere but you. His eyebrows were furrowed in worry as he pleaded for your help.

“This is so embarrassing, please do something.”

You nodded, walking over to him and turning him around so his back was towards you and he was facing the mirror. You were going to start by trying to undo the bra clasp, but when you looked up, you saw Gojo watching you in the mirror. Ignoring him, you focused on the bra. Tugging at it, you finally got it open after fiddling with it and it snapped open immediately. Eyeing the marks it left on his back, your fingers lightly trace them in an attempt to soothe it.

“Turn around. Lemme see your front.” you demand, and he automatically turns to face you, his eyes watching your every move. 

Your fingers move slightly over the red irritated skin on his chest. Almost like you were under some spell, you traced the red lines, gently rubbing them to soothe it. Gojo’s chest heaves and he lets out a breath he unknowingly was holding. When you look up, his cheeks are red and his lips are parted and he’s looking at you like he’s begging you to kiss him. You didn’t realize you were standing too close to him in this cramped dressing room.

“Gojo?”

“Yes?” His voice is breathy and light and barely a whisper. You could feel your heartbeat beating in your ears and the silence is way too loud and the only thing you can hear are the other customers outside changing.

You lay your hand flat down on his chest above his heart, wanting to see if he was feeling just as nervous as you. And he was. His heartbeat was a panicked rush and he was looking at you like he was waiting for you to make a move.

“Am I making you nervous?” you ask, leaning up towards him, your lips just inches from his.

“Yes.” his Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat, and he looks at you, gaze focused on you and you only.

“Is that all?” you ask, wanting more from him. You could tell he was turned on; you didn’t need to look down at his crotch to confirm it. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing was abnormal and he was looking at you like he was begging you to fuck him with his eyes.

“You make me more than just nervous.” he admits. 

“Oh?” you waited, a silent beat hanging in the air.

“You make me hard too.” he confirmed, his voice a mere whisper. 

Just as you were about to lean into him to kiss him, you heard a loud knock at the changing room door. 

“Hey! We don’t allow more than one person in each stall!” the employee on the other side nagged.

“Oh, I’m just helping my friend take off their clothes!” you quickly step away from Gojo, turning around. 

“You can take off the underwear by yourself, right? Hurry up!”

•••

Gojo is avoiding you. 

Normally you’d be happy, relaxed, welcoming to that sort of behavior. But today it was weird. Ever since yesterday, he has been avoiding you like the plague. Even going so far as ignoring you completely when he walked in on time today and you tried to greet him. 

Gojo almost never avoids; actually it’s always the opposite. When he’s not busy, he’s following you around like a puppy and carrying out any order you bark at him. Cleaning the tables, sweeping the floor, whatever it was, he was happy to do it for you. Only today he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Hasn’t even glanced at you. 

So why did it bother you so much?

As you help set up the bar with Geto, your eyes follow Gojo’s movements as he moves across the floor, setting up the tables and chairs for tonight’s opening.

“Your eyes are drilling holes into him. Something happened between the two of you?” Geto asks by your side as you wipe a wine glass clean.

“He’s ignoring me.”

“That’s new. What’d he do?”

You think back to the last couple days. His lips on your hands. His soft, whispered tone as he stared into your eyes with those stupid bright blue ocean eyes of his. Then in the dressing room, how he became so obviously aroused by you just touching him slightly. How there was so much tension you would have fucked him right then and there if you weren’t interrupted.

“Who knows,” you shrugged it off, deciding to act like it wasn’t a big deal that Gojo was ignoring you. It totally wasn’t. Not at all. It wasn’t like you’ve been staring at him the moment he came in wondering why he won’t talk to you or anything like that. Not at all.

You’re not sure what happened tonight, but Mina stopped by to speak with you, concerned for Gojo.

“He wasn’t like his usual self tonight,” she told you. “It’s like his head was totally somewhere else. I didn’t even ask to touch his beautifully sculpted big rock hard cock like I usually do.”

“You didn’t need to tell me the last part, Mina.” you scrunch your nose in disgust at her words.

“I’m saying I’m worried. You should check up on the boy. Maybe you’re overworking him, eh?” she told you with a shake of her finger as she exited through the doors as the last customer.

You didn’t watch Gojo tonight and decided to stay in your office, so you wondered if that had anything to do with him not doing his best tonight. Wanting to find out, you started looking for Gojo throughout the establishment. The break room, the bathroom, the changing room, but he was nowhere to be found. Just when you walk back to your office to call him, you open the door to find him leaning against your desk, arms crossed across his chest.

“Who said you could come into my office?” you close the door, ignoring the fact that he’s leaning on your desk and wearing his stupid compression shirt and gray sweatpants. 

He ignores you, instead, choosing to follow you behind your desk and stare at you some more. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Ignore me.”

“What? I’m ignoring you? Do you hear yourself? I tried to say hi to you when you walked in, and you pretended to not know I was there. You’re the one who’s been ignoring me.” you told him.

“You ignored me first.” he sighs in frustration, looking away with a pout on his pretty lips.

“Gojo, what’re you talking about?”

“Yesterday! In the dressing room. You almost kissed me. You know I wanted to kiss you too. Then after that, you just pretended like nothing happened. And I hate that you don’t call me Satoru.” he almost rolls his eyes, whining and complaining like a child.

Oh. So that’s what he was hurt about. He wasn’t wrong; you did kind of just brush off whatever happened in the dressing room and pretended like nothing happened. But that’s because you didn’t know how to deal with your feelings and you assumed he didn’t want you like that. 

You’re fucking stupid.

“I’m sorry,” you stand up quickly, moving so that you’re standing in front of him. His legs part slightly, letting you stand in his personal space as he manspreads all over your desk. 

“I just assumed you didn’t think much of it, and I didn’t want to look stupid if I made a move or said anything about it.” you confessed, watching him for his reaction.

“You do look stupid,” he jests, eyes lighting back up, empty of his worries and concerns. “I’ll forgive you if you call me Satoru. No more Gojo this, Gojo that. I want you to call me Satoru.”

You throw him a thankful smile. “Mina was worried about you. She told me today before she left. Said you weren’t doing your best.”

“Mina can go kick the bucket.” 

You gasp and hit him jokingly. “Hey! She practically pays your rent!”

He wrinkles his nose in annoyance. “I got a bigger size for the lingerie. It got me my best tips ever.”

“Even though you were out of it tonight?”

“Yeah…” he says quietly, taking a moment to think to himself. “But I think I ripped it.”

“You should just buy a new one then. Don’t sew it up.”

“Hmm. I think you can sew it. At least take a look at it.” 

When you reluctantly agree, Gojo spreads his legs a little further, his hands wrapping around your waist to pull you further into him. Your eyes automatically move down to his crotch as he presses you against it, the outline of his hardened dick against your legs. He swiftly takes off his shirt, the red bra sitting against his chest. 

“You’re staring.” he observes aloud.

“No, I’m not.” you reply, your eyes trained on his hardened nipples that are practically peeking out through the lacy thin bra.

When you finally manage to tear your eyes away from his body and actually inspect the bra, you see that it’s actually in perfect condition and not ripped at all.

Then you realize what Gojo is doing. 

“You idiot! You didn’t rip your stupid bra! You just wanted an excuse to take off your clothes.” you finally look up at his eyes with a glare. His stupid ocean eyes stare down at you arrogantly, a playful smirk painted on his pretty face as he sticks his tongue out at you.

“You’re totally right. I lied to you. How mean of me to lie directly to your face, huh?” he tells you sarcastically.

You raise an eyebrow at his sarcasm. Where was he going with this?

“I suppose I might need to be punished for that.” he says, his voice bored and waiting.

You take a moment to think about what he’s asking from you. It was obvious enough he wanted you the way you wanted him; his hardened cock was throbbing against your leg and his hips began to slightly move against your body, a subtle desperation for any sort of friction.

But what exactly did he want? Did he want you to suck him off, or bend you over the desk and fuck you? Gojo didn’t seem like the type to want to do that though; from his interactions with you, he was definitely one for harsh punishments that caused pain. Masochistic little bitch.

While you’re busy thinking, your eyes stay on his lips, perfectly soft and begging to be kissed. So you lean in, pressing a warm and pleasant kiss to his lips. Gojo almost immediately gives into your warmth, leaning in closer to you, his hands wrapping around your waist. He exhales a shaky breath against your cheek, kissing you back gently. When you pull back and look at him, he raises an eyebrow.

“That didn’t feel like a punishment.”

“What kind of punishment were you thinking of?” you ask, because you weren’t about to waste your time guessing.

“Oh, I don’t know… perhaps a couple of spanks might suffice. And maybe while I’m bent over your desk.” he wonders aloud to himself.

You laugh out loud. He’s definitely thought this scenario through. Without replying verbally, you grab Gojo by the front of his bra, aggressively yanking him towards you as you greet him with a kiss. This time it’s not as soft or gentle as the first one. You’re more aggressive this time, biting down on his bottom lip and licking the inside of his mouth. He moans into your mouth, his legs wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him. His moans are dripping with desire, so desperate for more as he kisses you harder, overly excited and clumsy. 

“Pants off. Now.” you breathe into the kiss and pull away for a second. 

But Gojo is still kissing you. Your cheek, the side of your mouth; any part of your skin he can reach with his mouth. His hands are shakily tugging at his jeans, impatiently trying to yank them down. His legs leave your waist and you yank him off the desk, roughly turning him around and bending him over your desk. Pushing your things aside, you finish stripping him of his pants and they pool at his ankles.

You look down at him, taking the sight of him in. The back of his neck is flushed red, one of his bra straps is falling down his shoulder, and his curved ass cheeks are rubbing against your legs, hungry for some sort of stimulation. He’s wearing a thong, the string between his ass cheeks thin and so easy to rip off. 

Your hand caresses his ass, soothing his skin before you slap him lightly, curious as to how much he can take.

“Nghh,” he whimpers lowly. “Hit me harder.” he demands, arching his back and sticking his ass further up the air for you.

Cautiously, you smack his ass harder than the first time, and you watch his pale skin turn a bright red. 

“More.”

You give in to Gojo’s demands once more, leaning over his back and smacking his ass. You lean close to his face as he lets out a high pitched whine. 

“Quit telling me what to do, Satoru.” you harshly whisper in his ear, and he moans in return, excited to hear you call him by his first name for the first time. He rubs his ass against you again, whines of pleasure escaping his lips.

“Hnghh, spank me harder, please.” he asks you.

“You could beg a little more if you’re that needy.” you tell him with a slap to his ass, listening to the sweet sounds of his whines.

“Nghh, p-please… please…” 

“Please what? What would you like me to do to you, Satoru?” you emphasize his name, enjoying his whimper of pleasure every time his name escapes your lips.

“I want more… more than your hands on my ass.” he’s quiet, almost shy and too embarrassed to admit what he really desires.

“What would that be, hm?” your hands place on his waist, your fingers rubbing in circles on his soft skin as you whisper into his ear. “Is it just more spanking you want? Or do you want me to fuck you?”

“Mmm, God, y-yes please. Please, please fuck me. I’m so hard and horny, please let me come.” he begs you, his voice high and whiny and desperate.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” your fingers make their way between his ass, ghosting over his hole as you kiss the back of his neck, sucking hard on his skin to mark him. 

“Hnghh,” he whimpers, unable to reply.

“Answer me.” you demand, smacking his ass once more.

“F-fuck, ahh… your fingers. I-I want them in my ass. Stretch me out and fuck me until I cum, please.” Gojo finally voices, a breath of relief leaving his chest. “There’s lube in your left drawer.” he tells you, out of breath and impatiently waiting.

“Did you put that there without telling me?” you ask, taking it out from your desk. 

“Yes, I’ve been waiting for this exact moment for months.”

“What a slut you are,” you laugh, yanking down his panties and pouring the cold liquid between his ass. He moans as you lean over him again, your finger rubbing at his entrance. “How long have you been wanting me to fuck you?”

“Mmm, since I started working for you.” 

You didn’t realize Gojo had a thing for you for that long. He’s one of the OG employees that have been with you since you opened the club a couple years back. You thought it was odd he never dated much, but it turns out it was because he was too busy pining over you to consider anyone else.

While you’re distracted thinking about how long Gojo has wanted you, his voice draws your attention back to his body.

“C-Can you touch my… me, please.” he asks shyly.

“Where?”

“My cock, please.”

You smile, glad he was clearly asking for what he wanted from you. You reach down to grab his dick, stroking it firmly as your other hand works on his ass. His tip is already wet with pre-cum, and his hips are thrusting in your hand as he moans with every stroke from you.

“You’re dripping wet,” you tell him. “Ready to cum already?”

“Haaaah, I want to cum from your fingers. I bet they’re gonna feel so good inside me.” he says. Then, “you can put one finger in. I’m ready.”

You happily oblige, slowly and steadily entering his hole with one finger, and he immediately tightens around you. Your lips stay on his neck, peppering him with small kisses to aid him through the process.

“Good job, Satoru. You’re taking it so well.”

“Haaah, I love it when you call me by my name.” he tightens around you after he hears you using his name, his hardened cock throbbing in your hand as you loosen him up. 

You slowly work him open, kissing and sucking and licking his skin as he shudders and moans beneath you. But your walls are thin and Gojo is too loud. His moans are growing louder the more you fuck him with your fingers, and you’re getting worried someone might somehow hear even though it’s after hours. 

“You’re too loud.” you tell him, roughly shoving your fingers into him as a small punishment. 

You should’ve known he was going to enjoy it.

“Unghh,” he whimpers, louder than his other moans. His back arches once more, shoving his ass into your fingers and clenching around you, desperate for more. “C-can’t help it. Feels too good.” he moans out. 

Your other hand leaves his front, covering his mouth with your palm. He moans as you continue fucking him, your office dead silent besides his moaning and the sound of your fingers fucking him. You feel his tongue against your hand, licking his leftover pre-cum off your hand. 

“Filthy slut,” you tell him, and he tightens around you in response, sticking his tongue out so you can shove your fingers in his throat. 

His mouth is warm and his tongue wraps around your digits, taking them into his mouth and sucking. His eyebrows draw together and he closes his eyes in pleasure, trembling with pleasure. He’s practically fucking himself on your fingers, hips moving on their own as he chases his high. You finger him roughly, leaning down to leave hickeys on his neck as he continues to thrust into you and suck and moan on your fingers. He practically screams in pleasure when you take him over the edge, his hips stuttering as he spurts on your floor. He breathes heavily against you as you rub his ass, your other hand leaving his mouth. 

“Good?” you ask after a couple minutes of letting him catch his breath.

“Call me by my first name.”

“Satoru?” you ask and he stands back up and turns around to look at you.

You laugh at the sight of him: pants pooled at his ankles, hair tousled and sticking to his forehead with sweat, and cheeks red, and his bra barely hanging on.

“Why are you laughing at me,” he pouts, pulling his sweats back up in embarrassment. 

“I didn’t know you liked being fucked like that.” you point out, wiping your hands. 

“Well, I am a filthy slut.” he winks, his hands coming up to your shoulders and guiding you to sit in your office chair. “My turn.”

“Clean your jizz up first.” you nod towards the spot on the floor where he finished. 

His cheeks flush. “After I eat you out.”

•••

a/n: yall i was too lazy to write the second smut scene so use your imagination 😂 i’m too excited to write my enemies to lovers zuko story so stay tuned! (btw i totally named this fic after that one song by liam payne lmao)

m.list

#gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sub gojo #sub jjk #sub gojo satoru #gojo fic #gojo satoru fic #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen fic #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #smut #fluff

[fierymiasma]

𐂴 Firewhiskey and Apple Tarts 𐂴 // Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Summary: Sebastian is tasked to take a drunk hero of Hogwarts back to her dorm after a wild party in the Slytherin Common Room.

Easier said than done.

Tags: Humor, Fluff, Pining, Drunk Shenanigans, Sebastian being a gentleman, Dorks in Love, Drinking, Drunk Piggy Back rides

Word Count: 3.4k

|| Masterlist || AO3 ||

The music from the self-playing ghost instruments was enchanted so loud Sebastian could barely hear his own thoughts.  The Slytherin common room floor was sticking to his shoes from all the spilled butterbeer and firewhiskey.  Sebastian wasn't a stranger to Slytherin House parties.  Staring across the common room, he couldn't take his eyes off of the hero of Hogwarts.  The moonlight reflecting off the Black Lake illuminated her, shining an ethereal spotlight on the only person who mattered at the party.  Jumping, laughing, and swiveling her hips in a poor imitation of a dance, she looked so carefree.  It was rare to see such an expression on the Hufflepuff, especially after the horrible events of their 5th year. 

Sebastian's expression softened.  It was a shame that the party was drawing to its end.  She brought a natural light to the dreary common room.  He wished he had a couple more hours to memorize every tiny detail of her form.  What he wouldn't give to break through the crowd and sweep her off her feet.  Show her how a real Slytherin parties.

"Sebastian!  Sebastian!"  Natty hollered as loudly as possible over the blaring music.  She waved Sebastian down, and Sebastian grinned back.  Now there was a friend who would always have his back in a fight.  "Are you able to escort our friend back home?"  Natty asked, knowing full well that Sebastian knew who she was referring to. "I would do it myself but the Gryffindor tower is the complete opposite end of the castle and-"

"And no one can sneak around at night like Sebastian Sallow."  Sebastian finished for her.  "Of course, I'll make sure she gets tucked into bed."

Natty hovered, a bit nervous.  "She's ah, how you say, not very sober right now."  She giggled before schooling her expression to a more serious one.  "Can I trust you to make sure she can make it back home safe?"

There was a pregnant pause.  The quickly developing relationship between Sebastian and his newly acquired friend had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the school.   It was obvious to anyone with eyes (or without good eyes Ominis would say) how much that Slytherin boy pined for her. 

In light of all this, Sebastian felt somewhat humbled that Natty trusted him enough to entrust him with the task of walking his very inebriated crush home without any foul play.  Though Sebastian might not have been as close with Natty as he was with Ominis, he still considered her a good friend.  And, the only good Gryffindor worth knowing. 

"You needn't worry.  She'll be unharmed, except for a pretty wicked hangover.  Trust me.  You Gryffindors aren't the only ones with chivalry around these parts." 

Natty laughed.  "Good!  Thank you for doing this for me.  I truly appreciate it."  Natty turned around and waved back to the crowd.  "I found Sebastian!  He's right here!"

Natty turned to Sebastian, hiccupping a bit before giggling madly. "Well, all I can say is, nkwagaliza emikisa, good luck!  She is quite the handful."

Before Sebastian could ask Natty what exactly she meant by that, a very loud presence announced herself. 

"Sebastian!"  The Hufflepuff in question shouted, throwing her hands in the air.  She pushed quite roughly through the crowd, heading straight for the Slytherin in question.  "Sebastian!  Good evening!"

"It is a good evening now that you're here."  Sebastian agreed, wondering exactly how drunk she was.  "I believe it is my duty to escort a certain someone to their bed."

She deflated like a Shrivelfig. "Oh…okay, see you later then."

It turns out she was very inebriated.  "It's you.  You're the someone I'm escorting to bed."

"Oh!"  She smiled using all her teeth, then quickly hide them behind her hands, giggling madly.  "Why didn't you just say so, silly?  This will be great!"  She shouted over the music.  "It'll just be like our very first night together!"

Several heads turned to look at the pair of them.  Sebastian could hear voices whispering behind them.  The back of his neck turned red.  "Yes, just like our first night where we broke into the restricted section to study and did nothing else slightly interesting or nefarious."  The crowd behind them look disappointed.  "We need to be just as quiet and sneaky as we were back then.  Are you up for the challenge?"

"Yes!"  she shouted and jumped on the balls of her feet, only to catch herself on a side table, off kilter with the room spinning.

"Shhhh."  Sebastian reminded gently putting a finger to his lips.  "Quietly."  he whispered.

"ohhh ok….quietly."  she whispered back.

Sebastian gently guided her to the entranceway to the Slytherin common room.  Waving goodbye to the party patrons, he helped her clumsily climb past the threshold.  Sebastian had escorted the Hufflepuff back to her dorms many times, curfew or otherwise, despite her insistence that it was really not needed.  He waved his wand around himself as he crouched, casting the disillusionment charm.

She attempted to repeat the movement.  She wildly waved her wand before crudely tapping the tip to her forehead.

Nothing happened.

She frowned, attempting to do the charm multiple times, to no success.

Sebastian sighed.  Well, this was going to turn out to be a lot harder than it usually was.  But, he was a man of his word, and he was looking for a new type of challenge.

"Alright, it's okay just follow my lead."  He crept to the corner of the corridor, trying to peak out to watch for any prefects prowling the hallways.

Before giving the all clear, something brushed up against his hand clumsy.  He jumped in alarm, disillusionment charm disappearing quickly.  He looked down.   Oh, she was holding his hand.

"My hands are cold and lonely."  She pouted.  "Can I hold yours?"

Sebastian couldn't hold back the smirk if he could try.  Oh, this was great blackmail fuel when his Hufflepuff returned to her very sober self.  "Of course, whatever you need."

In a stroke of luck, they managed to avoid the snitching prefects for a while.  Her warm hand never left his as they snuck around the dark shadows of the castle.  It was going rather well for a bit before the pair hit yet another roadblock.  Her hand was getting heavier in his, almost dragging him down with dead weight. 

"Is everything alright?"  Sebastian asked, finally taking a look back at the other girl.

She sighed.  Her hair was a mess, plastered over her face like a heavy curtain.  She seemed unbothered to fix it.  Her head bobbed down, as if the weight of holding it up was too much for her.  "Nooooo, it's not alright.  My feet are tired and this castle is wayyy to big."

Sebastian chuckled.  He let go of her hand, much to her displeasure.  Bending down, he gestured for her to climb onto his back.  It was going to be far easier to carry her.

"Alright.  Upsie Daisy."  Sebastian said, lifting her into a piggy back ride.  Her soft chest was pressed firmly against his broad back.  Sebastian flushed, glad she wasn't able to see his facial expression.  His arms wrapped under her strong thighs.  Her kicking feet dangled against his sides.

She laid her heavy head on his shoulder.  Sebastian could feel her hot breath tickle the back on his neck.  Now, much closer to her, he could smell the spicy firewhiskey on her breath mingling with her usual honeysuckle perfume.  The walls of Hogwarts spun a little.  Sebastian could get drunk on that intoxicating scent alone.

His throat felt dry.  This might have been a mistake.

"Thanks for the piggy back ride.  You're a much better ride than Boffle Loft."

Sebastian frowned.  He didn't know any Hogwarts boys with such ridiculous names.

"Who?"

"My broom."  She mumbled sleepily into his hot skin.  He could feel her lips lightly brush against his skin.

He shivered.  This was definitely a mistake.  He proceeded to walk.  Part of him wanted to get her to her dorm as soon as possible, not knowing how much of this his poor heart could handle.

Another part of him never wanted this night to end. 

Situated very comfortably on his back, the Hufflepuff was subdued for a while before her boredom got the better of her.  Her face was as close as it has ever been to Sebastian's hair.   She had always wanted to touch it ever since they first met.  How she yearned to run her fingers through those soft curls.  How she wanted to tug at those roots seeing what fun noises she could pull from him.  Listening to her most baser thoughts, she boldly patted Sebastian's hair.  Wow, it was a lot softer than she anticipated.  Sebastian didn't seem to mind.  She continued petting his hair, marveling at it.

Sebastian's neck burned hotly.  His steps faltered.  He hitched her higher up on his back for the umpteenth time.  Sebastian's sweaty hands shifted to get a more stable grip on her thighs.

"Everything alright back there?"  He tried to ask in his most, 'I'm not affected by this', voice he could muster.

She hummed happily, now tangling her hands through his curls.  "My little Puffskein."

Sebastian halted in his tracks.  "Puffskein?"

He could feel her sigh, as if disappointed Sebastian wasn't thinking on her level.  "You know, your hair?  It's so fluffy and cute and curly.  Like a Puffskein.  I always wanted to play with your hair.  I bet it feels exactly like my new Puffskein, all fluffy and sweet."

Oh this was truly too good.  She would be mortified when she woke up in the morning. 

Sebastian continued his journey, trying not to drop her every time her wandering hands tugged on his hair just right.  He stopped walking occasionally to position her more securely since she seemed to take on the bone structure of a kneazle.

"Well, I believe this is your stop."  Sebastian stated, silently mourning as he put the drunk girl down.

She frowned, looking up at the wooden barrel that hide the Hufflepuff common room entranceway.  "I don't want to go in."

Sebastian blinked.  "Don't you want to sleep?"

"Yes, I'm exhausted."

Sebastian patiently explained to her as if she were a five year old.  "This is your dorm.  This is where your bed is."

She pouted, trying and fumbling to cross her arms before determining that motor skill far too difficult.  "I don't like sleeping here."

Sebastian was about to pull his hair out.  Why could she had not said that before all of this. "Why?"

She looked at her shoes.  "There are three girls to a dorm.  And Lenora, Adelaide and the others are nice but I just can't sleep when they're around.  I know it's so silly and so stupid.  When they're in the same room with me, my head's just a buzz.  There's just so much going on.  Constantly wondering what they need, if I'm doing anything to upset them, if they like me, or if they just downright just don't tolerate me."  She shook her head.  "Plus what if the nightmares come back, and I start screaming again?  I don't want them to see that.  I can't have them see that-"  She was starting to breathe a little too shallow and fast for Sebastian's liking.  "Oh Merlin, what if they already know?  What if they heard one of my nightmares and think I'm a freak and just haven't said anything about it.  Hufflepuffs are so nice and polite they probably just haven't bothered to mention it-"

"Stop."  Sebastian interrupted, rubbing the Hufflepuff's back, trying to soothe her.  "Enough of that nonsense.  Breathe."  She took a shaky breath.  "Be a good girl for me and breathe."  She exhaled then took a much deeper breath this time trying to steady herself.  "Good, that's it.  There is nothing to be ashamed of."  No longer annoyed, he straightened her hair, tucking the tangled strands behind her ears so she could finally see him.  "Where do you usually sleep?"

"The room of requirement."  She mumbled, not looking at Sebastian. "Right next to my plants, and my potions, and my creatures.  That's where it's safe."

Something in Sebastian's heart gave a little.  He wasn't sure what he was feeling exactly, but he didn't dwell on it.  "Well, let's get you there alright?"  He searched for her hands, lacing their fingers together.  "C'mon, follow me." 

Somehow, despite the much greater distance, the journey from the Hufflepuff dorm to the 8th floor of the Astronomy tower was much quicker.  Mostly due to the Hufflepuff's subdued behavior.

Opening the Room of Requirements door, he was just glad to see that Deek had already gone to bed.  He didn't want anyone but her to see how badly he was falling for her.

There was a dragon's hoard worth of pillows piled up on her four poster bed.  Merlin's beard, it nearly touched the top of the canopy.  Clumsily, she collapsed on the bed, attempting to undo the intricate laces of her high-heeled boots.  Without thinking, Sebastian knelt down on one knee in front of her.  He gently reaching for her shoe to untie it, just as he had so many times for Anne.  Placing her boot on his thigh, his rough hands started undoing the laces.

For the first time the whole night, her body stood at an absolute standstill.  She was quiet, patiently waiting for him to help her get to bed. 

Sebastian's hands were firm and so sure as he helped take off her tight uncomfortable shoes.  She didn't know why but she quite liked the sight of Sebastian on his knees in front of her.  Once her shoes were neatly put together at the bottom of her bed, Sebastian stood back up.  She quietly mourned the loss of his closeness.

He summoned the blanket that had been rudely thrown on the floor.  He covered her gently with it, making sure she was sufficiently comfortable.  Satisfied at a job well done, he turned, looking to find some random furniture of the Room of Requirement to pass out on.

A small hand grabbed the back of his jacket.

"You're not going to join me?" she asked.  Her voice soft and innocent.

Oh Merlin, the founders were really testing him tonight.  His vow to Natty rang in the back of his mind.  Despite every fiber of his being screaming yes, he turned around, gently removing her hippogriff-like talons on him.  "No, I'm afraid not.  There's a very nice couch that has Sebastian Sallow written all over it."

She frowned before mumbling to herself.  "I thought I got rid of that one."  She threw herself back onto her pillows, incredibly distraught.

Pulling up the covers so they met her chin, he took one last look at her.  Sebastian's eyes soften, as he moved to brush the hair away from her eyes.

"You're not going to kiss me goodnight?"  She asked sweetly.

This had to be punishment for all of Sebastian's wicked deeds.  He swallowed thickly.  Her usual well-groomed braided hair was a completely mess sticking to all the pillows.  Her make up had already left probably permanent stains on her pillows.  She looked like she took a wrestling match with a giant and somehow won.

She was gorgeous. 

"No, I'm afraid I'm pushing it enough as it is."

She looked completely devastated at the rejection.  "Is it 'cause you don't like me?"

Well, Sebastian couldn't have the love of his life thinking something as absurd as that.  Bending at the waist, Sebastian leaned over to give a light and very quick peck on her forehead.  Just like his mother used to do when Sebastian was little.

She erupted into giggles as she retreated under the confines of her blankets.  The heavy quilt did nothing to muffle her maniacal laughter.  As if she were a niffler who stole a noble's best earrings.

Fuck.  That one was probably too far.

Sebastian climbed onto a comfortable couch that the Room of Requirements managed to summon for him.  He curled around a pillow that smelled of her perfume, hugging it close to his chest.  In the furthest depths of his mind, he wondered if the hero of Hogwarts liked it when someone took care of her.  Goodness knows, the Hufflepuff was always doing favors and moving the very heavens for strangers.   Someone ought to be looking out for her as well.  As he drifted off to sleep, his tired and slightly tipsy mind, clung on to one last thought.

Sebastian Sallow wouldn't mind taking care of her for the rest of his life.

[Keep Reading Here]

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow fic #hogwarts legacy sebastian #harry potter hogwarts game #harry potter #fierymiasmawork

[wynnyfryd]

By the time Eddie gets Steve up the stairs and down the hall to his horrible plaid bedroom, the flood of excitement has fizzled out and left bone-deep exhaustion in his wake. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t felt this fucking tired since he woke up in the hospital all those months ago. “Okay, Stevie,” he sighs as he throws himself onto the bed, starfishing across the mattress. “It is possible that I have overestimated my stamina here.” 

“Oh, you think?” Steve grins playfully as he crawls onto the bed beside him. His hand comes to rest on Eddie’s happy trail, fingers skating over the soft hair beneath his belly button.

“Fuck!” Eddie squirms. “That tickles!” 

“Does it?” Steve asks with a glint in his eye that Eddie does not appreciate, but before he can do anything to defend himself Steve is throwing a leg over his lap, straddling him and holding him down while he tickles Eddie within an inch of his life. 

“Stop! Stop!” Eddie gasps, pawing ineffectively at Steve’s chest as he shakes with teary-eyed laughter, “Oh, my god, three taps, red, et cetera, you little monster.”

Steve stops immediately. 

“You’re an actual demon,” Eddie pouts as he sinks into the blankets.

Steve tips forward, laying his weight over Eddie’s chest, and the bastard’s still laughing when he presses an apologetic kiss to Eddie’s neck. “Sorry. Can’t help it if you look cute when you’re flustered.” 

“Jesus Christ.”

Steve sits back up, resting his palms against Eddie’s chest. “What does ‘red’ mean, by the way? Like, I get the gist, obviously, but, uh...”

“It’s a color system people use in kink. Like traffic lights. Basically the same thing as the tap-out system. Which, I still don’t understand how the hell you knew about that if you don’t know about BDSM, but—”

“BD what now?”

“Oh, my god.” Eddie looks up at the ceiling. Where to fucking begin? “BDSM. It’s an acronym. Bondage, Discipline — or Domination, take your pick, Sadism, and Masochism.” 

Steve makes an adorably confused face, his eyebrows drawing down. “Okay, I think I understood, like, three of those words.” 

God, he’s cute. 

“God, you're cute,” Eddie sighs, and okay, guess his filter’s out of commission for the evening. “Don’t worry about the last two for now. Those are more about pain play” — Steve’s eyes widen in alarm — “which, no shame to anyone who’s into that, but I’m not sure how much interest I have in that particular arena ever since, well...” 

Ever since bats used me as a fucking chew toy, he thinks, gesturing at his fucked-up torso. 

“Cool,” Steve says. “Me neither. I mean, I don’t think. I haven’t tried it, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You might,” Eddie smirks. He leans up on an elbow, kisses the soft skin of Steve’s inner arm. “But you don’t have to, sweetheart.” 

“Cool,” Steve says again, his shoulders slouching in relief. “So, the other two…?” 

“Sure. Bondage is pretty self-explanatory, but there are different degrees of it. The more, uh, extreme side of things usually involves shit like ropes and handcuffs, but it can be more mild. Like tying my wrists up with a scarf, or even just pinning them over my head with your hands.”

Steve’s eyes light up at that suggestion. He leans forward, pressing Eddie flat onto his back, and he scoops up Eddie’s hands and stretches them above his head, crossing his wrists and holding them there with just one hand. Jesus, his hands are huge. Eddie gulps and bucks up into him a little. 

Steve moans, leans down so their lips almost brush. “Something like this?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, his voice rough and raspy and wanting. 

Steve presses in, kisses him hard, his hips grinding down as he licks against his lips. Hot and filthy and wet. Eddie parts his lips eagerly, swallows the moan that passes from Steve’s mouth to his when Steve shoves his tongue inside. Licks behind his fucking teeth.

“Okay,” Eddie pants when they part; he smiles up at Steve, pupils blown wide and face flushed red. “So we like that one then?”

“Yeah,” Steve grins. “Yeah, we like that one a lot.”

#more eddie pov yogi steve #steddie fic #steddie drabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #a little cut material since this steve pov sequel is taking so long #for those of you who've read the series this takes place right after relax (lay it back) and before relax (that's that) #although like #this IS cut material so #don't come for me if anything in this drabble contradicts the final published ao3 version of the next installment #this is not meant to be canon this is just some fun sunday smut okay? okay <3

[genshrineimpact]

universe abound

| ◆ ch.5 ⑊ high tea.

⬙⤠ masterlist ⤝⬙

◇ a/n ◇ how do writers build such intricate worlds i am literally pulling my hair rn trying to connect the dots and covering the plot holes sldkfjlsdkf no one look

"your grace-"

"[name]."

"how could i dare to speak the sacred name with this lowly tongue of mi-"

"beel."

the joy that spreads across her expression just from a single mutter of her name makes you feel a little awkward. you weren't even saying it in a pleasant tone, more of a ‘parent scolding a child’ type of tone… you used to find the cultish and worshipping tendencies of sagau romantic, but to actually receive the treatment like this… it feels a little daunting.

"that is my name, yes!"

"hey! how come she gets called by name and not me! i, for one, will gladly call you by name as much as you want!" barbatos puffs out his chest proudly, throwing you his signature wide smile. you’re still not used to this version of him - you have definitely seen this particular skin before, but you never really owned it, seeing as by that time you had other higher priorities to use your money for instead of using them to buy clothes for a fictional character.

that's so weird to think of.

"[name]? ehe, you're staring… does this appearance please you~?"

".... eh?"

"i thought you'd like it, cause the last time an outsider visited, they had this look and you sounded so excited and happy to see him... so i decided to copy them! well, with a few modifications of course~" he motions towards the crystal cores on his braids, smiling as he's recalling an old memory, "you used to laugh whenever i start chasing around the crystalflies, remember? i couldn't help but take a few, i thought you'd like it!"

you want to question so many things in that sentence. like, what did he mean by an outsider visiting? when is this last time he spoke of? what did he mean by you sounding excited and happy? and when did you ever see him chase after crystalflies? was there such an event in the game? why is he speaking as if he’s met you in person before when you've never-

a pinming cup is elegantly served in front of you with a soft clink. your eyes trail up the arm sporting bright colored geo lines to meet morax’s amber-gold eyes, and he offers you a gentle smile.

wow, he’s so beautiful up close.

"oh. i… am glad you think so, [name]."

oh shit, did you just say that outloud?!

"[name], [name], what about me??"

you palm your heated cheeks and decide to abandon your shame altogether. fuck it, if you’re going to be here for a while - which it looks like you will be - then you might as well live out your younger self’s daydreams of interacting and spoiling these ‘fictional’ characters, "you're pretty too, barbatos. and you too, beel."

if only you had your phone with you now, so you can capture the beautiful sight of raiden ei herself blushing, eyes crinkling in a smile, shyly hidden behind her palm covering her lips. on your other side, venti himself has for once quietened down, opting to beam at you with both of his palms supporting his chin, elbows leaning against the table, faint pink dusting his cheeks and a lovesick grin on his lips.

morax sits at the last open seat across from you, still wearing the same smile as before, and you wish you could screenshot this picture-perfect scene, share it online and watch as people lose their minds. because it feels like you're starting to lose your mind right this moment.

"so, [name]. though we are more than joyous that you’ve decided to return, it would be nice to have some… explanation, regarding what has been going on. and perhaps plan our next course of actions."

morax’s calming voice does nothing to quell the sudden spike in your heart rate.

explanation? they want you to explain… what exactly? if anything, you were the one who should be hoping for an explanation. you came to this world because of the game, right? you didn't want to be here in the first place…

"i… can’t."

"your grace, please rest assured, you can trust us completely-"

"i’ll be completely honest. i can't give you any explanation because i have no idea why or how is it that i am here with you right now."

your confession brings a sudden silence over the group.

this time, the anemo archon is the one who reacts first. leaning closer onto your side, eyes wide, he tries to meet your eyes, "b-but- didn't you hear our prayers? received our offerings? isn't that why you came back?"

prayers and offerings.

you think back to the notifications you received. you suppose you can call them prayers, to some extent, although you’ve never seen it as such before this. so the 'person' behind those were… the inhabitants of teyvat themselves? and the free gifts were offerings from them?

… regardless of whom those pings came from, they were the reason why you tried to open the game. so technically, you can say that barbatos is correct, right?

you were about to nod when morax's question intercepted the motion, a slight frown forming between his eyebrows as he observes your expression.

"[name], are you aware of the state of teyvat right now?"

the geo archon’s question triggers a flutter of scenery that you’ve seen through the led screen of your device. they flash before your eyes and you briefly feel the hot lead of guilt filling your stomach. that was… what, months ago? a year? time usually passes faster in the game than in real life, but is that really the case here? because if so, you don't really want to know how the current situation is.

you decide there's no point in lying, so you nod, "just the… gist of it. i know that things aren't… good."

"... forgive me if this sounds intrusive, however, i must ask - where have you been prior to today, [name]? we haven't seen you in person ever since…. ever since you ascended celestia," he sounded… pained, when he says this, and you observe his neutral facade in confusion.

not ‘ascended to celestia’, but ‘ascended celestia’ itself? you might not remember all the lores anymore, but you could've sworn nothing mentioned that.

but then again, the original lore never mentioned the existence of a divine creator or anything pointing to such a being.

"i… i’m not…. i don’t……."

the words are tethering at the tip of your tongue, but something holds them back from spilling out. a dark thought crosses your mind, the possibility making you freeze in fear for a second.

so far, you only know that the game - or whoever it is - that's responsible for bringing you here, actually went through with it because it thinks that you can save this world, in one way or another. knowing this, you can certainly choose to go along with this whole charade; to just play your part and maybe if you're lucky you’ll get some kind of more concrete instructions on what exactly it is that you're supposed to do to ‘save teyvat’. but…

on the chance that it is mistaken, and you're not this all-divine being, the moment the real one arrives, what will become of you?

will you be tossed aside? burned at the stake? stoned to death? electrified into a crisp by beelzebul? stabbed through morax's spear? tossed down starsnatch cliff by barbatos?

you shudder. reading about those 'bad ends' in fiction works was one hell of an experience in itself, but having the possibility of those events actually happening to you is enough to make you rethink your whole plan of action. there's no guarantee that these three will believe you and there's also a possibility that they'll turn back on you the moment you tell them the truth. but lying to them just feels… wrong. and just as risky.

"before that… first, answer me this. how do you know that i'm…. well… me, and not just some… impostor… who's pretending to be the creator?"

the three archons look as if you've just slapped them right on their face. flabbergasted and looking borderline offended, morax - as expected - is the first to compose himself, and he scrambles to pick his words carefully.

"how? but… how could we not? we could never forget your voice, your grace. just as how crystalflies would gather around areas abundant with the energy of their respective elemental types, our very being always yearns to be in your very presence. it is simply the law of nature."

"the aforesaid. there is no question that you’re the divine creator. even i who have not met you directly before this occasion knows that you are, without a doubt, the one who has been guiding me all these times," beel explains with conviction, purple eyes crackling with electro, "please rest assured, if such a sinful being dare to appear in front of your eyes, i will strike it down at once and vaporize them to dust."

her words bring a certain scene at tenshukaku to mind, and you shudder. your silence only deepens the furrows on the two gods' foreheads, and they glance at each other in silence, wondering if they had somehow aggrieved you with their words. in an attempt to do damage control, barbatos inches his hand towards your side of the table and speaks to you in a gentle tone.

"[name]... your appearance may change and you may look like just a normal human being, but the whole teyvat will always recognize you as its master. and that includes its people - meaning, us! you are, undoubtedly, the one and only creator of this teyvat. this barbatos guarantees it! so… so, please, don't look so scared of us, okay?"

your eyes flick between the anemo archon and your steaming cup of tea as your brain tries to come up with a reply. you'd never pegged him of all people to be as observant as he is now… or perhaps your expressions aren't as controlled as you thought.

all this thinking and speculation exhausts you. already, you can feel a tightness at both sides of your head, a warning sign of an incoming stress headache. with a loud sigh, you slump backward onto your chair, hands raised in a surrendering motion.

"fine. i'll tell you what happened from my perspective… with one condition. i want you all to promise me. me, not as your 'god' or 'creator' or any 'divine being', but as… a friend. promise me that whatever happens in the future, you won't hurt me."

"hurt you?! my liege…," the dark purple-haired god shrinks on her seat when you give her a stern look following her outburst. meanwhile, the other two look just as petrified at the prospect of you asking them to swear that they won't do such sacrilegious action.

it finally dawns on them that you do not trust them.

".... very well. if it will ease your heart, as the god of contracts, i shall oversee this promise to ensure that it is held. a binding contract between us and a single individual - [name]."

you can feel some tension leave your body at morax's declaration. in your frazzled state, it seems that you have forgotten about that option. contracts - yes, that could come in handy, you'll have to remember it. you'd like to believe that based on his lore and character, morax would never break a contract, especially the ones he has set personally.

so for now, you should be safe…

"great. now… it's up to you to believe me or not. but i really hope you do and won't think that i'm being delusional, or something."

and so, you began your story. starting from the very beginning. your identity, your life back on earth (though you skipped telling them a lot of things there, because you don't have the energy nor memory capacity to narrate all the years you've lived in - how the hell does morax remember all his 6000 years of life??), how you found out about genshin and started playing it (it took a while to explain this because you can see the confusion in their faces whenever you said certain words like 'video game' or 'server'), how years passed and how it was supposed to be terminated but somehow only you could still access it, how you then started receiving the strange notifications…

you're fully aware that it isn't the wisest decision to lay all your cards on the table like this, but as you glance up at them in between words and find them looking back at you so intently, as if they're hanging on to every single one of your words… it warms your heart and pushes you to tell them the whole truth.

there's a glimmer of recognition in morax's eyes as you tell him about your visit to liyue. he says nothing and lets you continue talking, but there's a solemn smile that tugs on his expression when you stutter on your words, the sadness of seeing liyue so broken evident in your tone. 

you're actually talking to them.

they're actually able to hear you.

this used to be what your younger self wished for the most. you remember it well. the longing to be able to converse and interact with them, to experience teyvat in all its entirety. maybe if this whole thing happened then, you would have eagerly taken the mantle of the 'divine creator' without as much thought.

you're supposed to be all grown up now, but it seems like that yearning never truly left you. perhaps once you've passed a certain treshold, age is truly just that, a meaningless number that matters little, in the grand scheme of things.

by the time you finish, your throat is dry and the tea has gone cold. the four of you fall into silence, each of you with your own thoughts. you sigh and sip on the now-cold tea, silently waving your hand when morax notices the state of your drink and tries to stand, probably to brew you a fresh batch. he sits back obediently and regards you with a calm gaze.

"i understand now that this must be very confusing to you. we've burdened you without knowing. please accept our apologies."

you head shakes automatically and relief floods your veins, creating a small grin on your lips, "you didn't know. it's fine. so you… believe me? you don't think i'm crazy?"

"of course. this explains your hesitance and… aloofness."

"ahaha… sorry about that…"

"i'm sad that you don't remember the older times, but i believe you, [name]!" barbatos smiles, though it's not as bright as his previous ones.

"i... share the same sentiment," beelzebul fixes her gaze on you, "it appears there are some mysteries that need to be solved regarding this matter. but if i may be so insolent as to suggest, i think the matter of teyvat is more of a priority at this moment."

you understand what she meant by her words immediately, and a hopeless sigh left you.

"but i don't know what i'm supposed to do. do you really believe that i can save a whole world, when i've been living a normal life so far?" you raise your eyebrows at her, arms crossing loosely on the table as you lean forward onto it, "from my perspective at the moment, i'm powerless."

beel doesn't look at all convinced, but it was morax who speaks for her, his chin lightly resting on his other fingers which are curled underneath, as his index slowly taps onto the corner of his lips.

"if i may suggest a theory… perhaps you’ve just yet to regain back all of your powers upon setting your feet back into teyvat."

"but what if i don't have my powers anymore? or any powers whatsoever in the first place?"

"oh, but you certainly do. we're here in your abode, are we not?" he chuckles, eyes soft as his voice takes a nostalgic tone, "the sub-space creation was something you taught me a long time ago. this particular one was created by yourself. in fact, i've had the honor of visiting it quite a few times in the past, along with barbatos and a few others, to partake in various festivities hosted by yours truly…….. however, as i was saying, the sub-space needs to feed from the owner's power to continue to exist. so the fact that we're able to converse like this here…"

"aha! this realm itself is proof that you do have your powers!" barbatos exclaims, snapping his fingers in excitement and turning towards you as if waiting for your praise. across from him, beelzebul lightly pouts, and you have an inkling she's somehow upset that she's the only one who hasn't had the chance to meet you and be involved with whatever festivities morax talked about within this realm, a long time ago...

"i… i see. i didn't know that," you scratch your cheek and look down contemplatively at your crossed arms, "then… do you have any suggestions on how to… maybe regain my power? or see if it really is my power?"

"i believe getting reacquainted to teyvat itself should help. even i am not privy to the inner workings of your power, so i do not know much about it. but what i do know is that you're the one who initiates us as allogenes and you have a strong connection with teyvat, with it being your first ever creation."

you nod, knowing the implications behind his words and the pleading looks from the two sitting by your sides. they want you to visit teyvat. in the end, it all comes down to that.

"okay. i'll do it. mond, liyue, inazuma, sumeru, snezhnaya, natlan, fontaine - all seven of them, i'll go and hopefully we can figure out something."

suddenly, you blink and cast your gaze toward all three of them.

"by the way… where are the other four archons?"

a heavy silence blankets over the previously light atmosphere. another shiver travels up your spine upon seeing the solemn expressions of your beloved characters.

"[name]... though this is a regretful outcome, please understand that none of us wish for you to take the blame for it."

morax materializes a pouch sewn from some sort of intricate-looking cloth and unties the string keeping its contents from spilling, before letting them fall onto the table.

you can't help the horrified gasp that escapes your lips at the sight of four gnosis, each bearing different colors and yet all missing its luster.

green, red, and two shades of blue.

dendro, pyro, hydro and cryo.

your head spins.

"but," you barely manage to whisper; it feels like cotton is rapidly stuffing your lungs as you speak, "wh-what of the… their nations, their people-"

"i’m afraid…"

".... they’ve all been destroyed."

© genshrineimpact | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @paintingsofdragonspine | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies

ps. if you want to be removed/added from the taglist, just send an ask or dm me!

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #sagau #venti #barbatos #zhongli #morax #rex lapis #beelzebul #raiden ei #universe abound #rin writes

[cassynite]

wip wednesday

today was basically just one long drawn out fart noise but at least i went back to my roots (daefic) and finished a scene, even if it is once again a chapter ahead of the place i need to be working on. behold: the back half of dae's shitty birthday party

--

Hours after, when the fog of drink has lessened the presence of ghosts, he sits at a table across from Sparrow and tries to maintain eye contact as they continue their interminably long drinking game. Sparrow's not doing well--she's struggling to stay upright, in fact, and should have cried surrender some five glasses of wine ago.

Daeran's own head is floating, his veins thudding with alcohol--he should have ended this three glasses or so ago, but at this point it's a matter of pride. He's going to knock Sparrow out or they'll have to carry him out, and he's not sure he cares which.

Ah, well. At least the last few hours have been entertaining. Or were entertaining, at least--the fun has grown a little thin, and certainly their audience, enraptured by the stalwart Knight-Commander letting loose, have grown bored. It's only him and her left in the main hall now, the rest having trickled outside to get some fresh air.

Gods, does he want some fresh air.

Later, he'll wonder if he imagined the conversation, conjured it out of nothing but the buzzing wine and his own strange thoughts about ghosts in the family manor that would not even come out to see him one last time. A drunken vision or truth, he is still surprised when Sparrow, listing to the side, fixes him with a glaze-eyed stare.

"You're allowed, you know. To do whatever you want with it."

"Excuse me?" Words are clumsy in his mouth, but he might not have done much better if he was sober. Sparrow's expression is open, disconcertingly so, naked in a way he'd only ever seen before in minute flashes when her emotions got the better of her. It makes him shift in his seat, uncomfortable, like he's looking at something he shouldn't, or like she is reciprocating an openness he hasn't realized he is giving himself.

"What happened here is yours," she says in the same intense, earnest voice. For someone who seems loathe to string more than five words together, the wine has made Sparrow very verbose. "It happened to you. No one else. And no one else can tell you the right way to feel about it. Throw a party, burn the house to the ground. Cry or laugh or sing or mock it. The only people who can care are the ones who this was done to--you are all that's left. The dead don't give a shit how they are mourned. So don't ever let anyone tell you that you're grieving wrong."

Something bubbles in Daeran's chest--laughter, maybe, but probably something worse. He swallows it down. As if he needs some stranger's permission to do what he likes with this house, with his things, with the memory of his mother. They don't know even a fraction of what he went through, what he endures every day.

He already knows that everyone who criticizes him are bores and upright, pompous, self-righteous sycophants toadying to the queen and Iomadae and good taste. They think they have the right to judge him, and that's their mistake. If he didn't want to be sad about what happened to him then he damn well wouldn't be, and there is nothing they can do about it except sneer; and they will sneer regardless.

He isn't some pathetic, sniveling victim boo-hooing about losing his mommy. He doesn't need pity. But it's not pity that he sees in Sparrow, it's something--something else, something he doesn't want to look at fully in the face. With some amount of shame, like he's lost a game he didn't know he was playing, his gaze slides to the wine glass in his hand, still half-full. His stomach roils. The thought of drinking another drop makes him sick.

I'm not grieving, he wants to say. I don't care what happened here. But the alcohol makes the words burn in his throat. He swallows them and the bile churning in his stomach down, lifting the glass of wine that he won't drink.

"My grandfather...or, maybe it was my great-grandmother, put this bottle in the family cellar. So why did it fail the scion of the illustrious Arendaes in his time of need?"

#cassy writes #cassy wips #does this feel true to dae's character? who knows! #oc: sparrow #daeran arendae #pwotr pals

[amischiefofmuses]

Arlo & Recks. Might finally add these losers to my roster now that brain wants to develop them, if y'all wanna send them stuff that'd be welcomed!

Quick description of them under cut - Warning for dark themes

Arlo - Imp/Succubus hellborn - He/Him (FTM) - Gay

Born in the lust ring, his family were loosely involved with the criminal scene and dragged him into it when he was capable of enough to do whatever was asked of him. He went into hiding in Pride after a deal gone bad that escalated into the murder of a mob family member - committed in self defense. Fearing repercussions, he has ended up as the lackey of an up-and-coming Overlord Recks in order to make ends meet, doing whatever is asked of him. It's not the best job but he has his bodily integrity, and that means something to him. In his downtime he reviews sex toys - never showing his face in his videos but the rest of him is very much on display. He has a guarded disposition and is likely to be sassy to those he considers equal to himself, less so when it comes to those such as Overlords or intimidating sinners. He's one to generally play it safe.

Recks - Sinner - Overlord - He/Him - Bisexual

Died in the 2010's at 32. He was once a lawyer, a ruthless bastard known as the sort to throw dearest friends under the bus for a quick buck but things started going south when it was discovered he was purposefully throwing certain cases if he was paid under the table. Desperate to maintain his lifestyle, he took life insurance out on his wife a couple months before killing her, intending on making it look like a home invasion gone wrong. The police didn't buy his story and he was quickly apprehended, put in jail to await trial for his crimes. With nothing left to lose he decided he wouldn't face the shame of being found guilty, instead he hung himself in his cell. Of course he ended up in Hell. It didn't take long for him to make a name for himself, slowly but steadily making deals to gain himself power, often taking advantage of those too drunk or too high to see sense initially. At least until he had a solid foundation to build his own little empire. By no means is he a heavy-hitter, he's a lesser Overlord who has ties with Vox thanks to the show he developed to further his power. Some foolish souls get 'married' or solidify pacts by selling their soul to eachother, balancing the power and bond. Unfortunately many regret that and that's where Recks comes in. Playing lawyer, and it truly is just PLAYING in the way he does it, he allows space for the two people to try and make their case and whoever wins is free of their contract. The loser, however, belongs to him. it makes for great television and he accrues souls, wins all around. He's a bit of a diva, certainly thinks highly of himself and treats most with very little respect, they're just toys to him. Other Overlords and stronger beings, however? Well, they're treated like well-loved clients. Wined, dined, complimented, the whole shebang.

#I'll add them to my carrd when I have the oomph #recks tag tba #arlo tag tba #hazbin hotel cw #ooc || the birb speaks #my art #suicide cw #he's awful so it's not sad tho lmfao

[ronearoundblindly]

The Book of Steve Rogers (1 of 2)

Summary: You’re a writer, too, but Steve has never pushed for you to share. It’s nerve-wracking as all hell, but you’re gonna show him. You’ve *got* to show him what you’ve been working on now. It’s time.

(This is gonna be split between two posts because I wasn't expecting a few very small ideas to weave together into 5k+, but this half is basically all lovey fluff before a tooouch of smooooot in the next.)

[For @whiskeytangofoxtrot555--you deserve.]

Your hands are so clammy they stick to the pages still warm from the printer. The manuscript is sloppily bound; you didn’t feel this warranted a fancy seal. It could all go in the bin at any moment. If Steve for one tiny second doesn’t seem to approve, it’s game over. You’ll delete the whole file and burn all the copies…although currently, this is the only hard copy on the planet.

Gosh, you need to find a better phrase since you are now set to marry into an intergalactic band of heroes.

Only hard copy in existence. There. That’s more accurate.

You’ve chosen the day you and Steve officially move in together, into a new, bigger apartment on AvIn campus, to hopefully take some of the pressure off of this moment, this…present. Steve’s so over-the-moon about your new space—since you now have an extra bedroom that is the agreed ‘studio’ space for you both—plus a second bathroom and its own laundry. He’s gone off on several little shpeels about hating that someone else washes all of his clothes. Dry-cleaning and the tact suits, he understands, but his boxers? Steve doesn’t like handing that task off. It’s always made him uncomfortable. It makes him feel high and mighty. It makes him feel like Tony, though he’ll never be caught dead admitting that. So your fiance self-corrects to the point of hauling his own army duffel down to the laundry and chats up some staff while he uses a machine for himself whenever he possibly can. Once or twice he even brought his laundry over to your apartment, your old apartment now, to hang out with you during the cycles. It took a lot of effort to convince the man you’re gonna marry that he should maybe let you wash both of your things together when he isn’t around to do it himself.

Logic was a mighty weapon that day, but from Steve’s face, hell likely froze over in the process. He’s a stubborn git when he wants to be, and you love it. He loves you because you won’t let him be a stubborn git for too long. He gets to throw his ‘back in my day’ tantrum. He’s heard…and then you immediately offer him the logical option which was your choice in the first place. Everyone’s happy. When it doesn’t really matter, you let Steve win. Compromise is the name of the game.

You even compromised on what you consider is not pulling your weight when it comes to moving. Steve insisted he carry all the boxes himself, two by two, across the entire compound. His logic: it will be about the equivalent of his dozens of mile runs or the hours-long training he does regularly. It’s not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. He kissed your forehead as a warning. This was just one of those things he wasn’t going to budge on. You weren’t ever going to win this argument.

And so you took the time to print out this and hope for the best. Two hundred and seventy-eight pages weigh a fuckton, say nothing of the weight of their meaning. Your palms are sweating full-stop now.

Since your desk had to be driven from your off-campus apartment to the compound, it was one of the first things moved in. You set the beast of pulp down with a thud, leaving it to rest and cool off—or maybe just you need to rest and cool down—because Steve’s not back from his latest pickup from downstairs. Shame, but oh well, you’ll do it later.

The manuscript fits in the second drawer. You even put it face down, so it looks just like a stack of paper, not even Steve’s good drawing paper. He has no reason to look or to want it. It’s only going to be until you next see him, which might be seconds away. That thought makes your stomach swirl harshly.

Now to grab some lunch. He’ll be so proud you remembered to feed yourself without his prodding, especially because you aren’t sitting at work with a whole group of people who walk out to do just that every day. Compromise and growth. It’s a beautiful thing.

*     *     *

“D’ya’know, one of the perks of billionaire life is paying someone to do this for you,” Tony drawls with a click of his tongue slapped on the end for good measure. He doesn’t help, of course; he just leans against the door frame.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a billionaire, Tony.” Steve lifts the third-to-last box of books and papers (plus one surprise), the heaviest by far because you efficiently stuffed it full, a Tetris of bricks. Good thing he’s a super-soldier, or you would’ve had to unpack it and carry the same contents in four smaller bins.

“You and the misses are so cheap,” Stark chides.

Steve doesn’t even correct him. Tony has offered so many bad ideas for the wedding that Steve needs a single day without giving him ammunition. “We aren’t cheap. We’re thrifty. It’s a good quality to have. Maybe you could even try it sometime.”

“Ew—“ Tony wrinkles his nose as if he too saw what the empty fridge looked like this morning “—why.”

Steve snorts and pushes past the loving idiot in his way.

“When’s the housewarming party?” Tony calls after him.

If Steve could roll his eyes hard enough to shake the ground beneath Stark’s feet, he would, but alas, that kind of power eludes him. You two are only moving to a different floor, one with larger (and thus fewer) residentially suites. Instead of Steve’s original and perfectly adequate one-bedroom apartment, you’ll have three rooms and two and a half baths. You and Steve agree that it’s a bit excessive, even though you’ve been giddily chatting on how to use all the space several nights in a row, legs tangled together in bed as Steve called dibs on the smallest room to use as a studio.

You’d crossed your arms in a huff of fake irritation, shoving your naked breasts together in a ploy to distract him (in the dark because you know he can see that and it will get you what you want). “Fine, but then the other is an office or work storage. And that includes—“ you emphasized your point with a finger to his chest “—your suit, shield, and weapons. I don’t want them in the closet anymore.”

“Hmm,” Steve acted perplexed, using his Cap voice for a minute, “what if I say ‘no?’”

You cocked an eyebrow and shimmied your feet behind his calves. “That’s the hill you wanna die on?”

“No.“ He leaned forward and pushed your arm out of the way, hand sliding over your ribcage so his thumb could caress the soft swell of you. It’s his favorite. “But you’re very cute when you’re annoyed.”

“Oh, welcome, Captain Critical to my bedroom,” you teased.

“Our bedroom.” Steve’s arm wrapped around your back to pull you closer. He’d kissed you with a smile on his lips because he knows it makes you giggle. “Must be true love if I move the suits for ya, huh?”

Steve fondly recalls all of this while he waits for the elevator. These books are actually heavy enough that he doesn’t take the stairs.

You had then playfully smacked his arm.

“No, Sketch. Separate bathrooms is true love.”

He just smiled wider, hugged you a little closer, and ticked his nose up to nuzzle at your neck.

“That’s the saying, huh? Separate bathrooms make the heart grow fonder?”

He would have laughed if he weren’t thoroughly distracted by the pulse of your heartbeat against his lips. Suddenly, you didn’t have any more quips for him either.

The elevator dings, and there you are, smiling brightly as you see it’s him.

“I’m gonna get us some food. You’ve earned it, big buy,” you say with a wink, but Steve hears a nervous edge to it. Maybe you’re still concerned with how heavy the boxes are or how many trips back and forth he’s been taking, but since he’s almost finished before lunchtime, he doesn’t see the big deal.

So all he replies with is “sounds good.”

It does sound good. It sounds perfect because you’ll be out for a bit and he’s got that surprise to hang in the new place. Since he knows he can grab it now, he hurriedly drops off the heavy box and races to the stairs. He saved the surprise for last, but two boxes ahead of schedule will do just fine.

Only one other thing, he wants to write a little note, but everything is packed away. There might be paper floating around in your desk still. He’ll take a look when he gets back up.

*     *     *

It takes way longer than it should to drive out and pick up Indian. There’s traffic, a line, a substitution they needed to make when something suddenly ran out, but it’s fine. You are nowhere near as put out as the staff rushing around the packed restaurant (and you got a refill on mango lassi, so you can’t complain).

You ask Friday to swing open the door since your hands are full. It still smells like new apartment when you step in, and you passingly wonder if your first meal will christen the whole place with a homey aroma. If that’s the case, your mouth is going to water every time you come home, an impulse Steve will wildly approve of since it’s just another reminder he won’t have to give.

Steve isn’t visible from the entrance or the kitchen. You put the food on the counter and check to see if anything will need heating a little more before digging in, and then you see it.

A long rectangle wrapped in brown paper sits across the coffee table. It’s not a shape you recognize as one of the paintings you packed from downstairs, but it sits with the taped side up. Maybe Tony dropped it off? He loves to collect art. Well, Pepper loves to collect art, and Tony loves to own art.

Your finger slices beneath a corner fold. Steve’s not really one for surprises—another reason you’re so worried about your little project—so he won’t mind if he’s not here for an unveiling of a gift. Where is he anyway? Only one of the huge book boxes is there sitting by the door, so he might still be—

Oh my god.

It’s…it’s…

It’s you. The whole thing is you, or you two rather. Nearly two feet tall and one foot wide, it’s a close-up of your favorite photo of you and Steve.

But this isn’t a photo. Steve has drawn you in painstaking detail, with vivid colors, and soft edges. His arms are wrapped around you from behind as he curls forward to kiss your cheek. Your head is lifted with a huge, toothy smile, open and laughing. Natasha took the original. You and Steve don’t really remember to take photos much, and there was one time, just one time, you joked that “it’s no big deal, he can sketch us anyway” in front of everyone. You’ve never seen him draw you, but you don’t ask because he wants things private until he shares them, like everything about you two and your relationship so far.

But oh my god. You loved the original photo. You didn’t care that you didn’t have makeup on or that you wore one of his oversized sweaters. You didn’t care that your flesh rolled just a smidge between his tight arms across your middle. You didn’t care that your hair looked a bit lost because it was pulled back and out of frame. That was the photo.

This. This is you and Steve absolutely perfect. The tone of your hair is noticeably portrayed in a style you love, your skin is flawless, and he’s changed the sweater he wears to your favorite color. He hasn’t made it hyper-realistic. He didn’t simply copy over what he saw in the photograph. He interpreted what you adored about it with a few added bonuses. You look amazing. You look joyous. Most importantly, he’s captured how in love he looks by your side, enveloping you, feeding your body his heat on that brisk cold day.

You can feel that heat in your cheeks now.

“Steve,” you call out, unable to take your eyes off the art. His art. It’s already framed and everything. It’s like he knew you would want it up right here in the living room. “Steve!”

It’s odd he’d take so long to come back up—shit.

On your way to the door, you see him. He’s leaning on your desk because there’s no chair. You’ve ordered a new one, and it hasn’t arrived yet. In his hands, Steve is flipping through a document about three hundred pages thick. Your brain can’t even make up any option but the worst.

He found it. He found it with no explanation, no lead-in, no excuse.

“Sweetheart,” you huff in a rush to get over and take it back before too much damage is done. It’s not as perfect as his drawing of you; you know now that it’s not ready. Your sinuses seize and threaten to flood your vision while you beg to have it back, but Steve just holds out a long arm and easily keeps you at bay while he continues to read…

…about himself, about his life.

You’re not even sure what gibberish comes out of your mouth before he finally lifts a crystal clear gaze to you.

“What is this?”

“It’s nothing. It’s stupid. Please just put it down. I promise I’ll get rid of it if you—“

“Keeps, what is this?”

“Um, it’s,” and then you mumble a bit. His stern look tells you to try again. “It’s a…biography. Kinda. I wrote down every story you’ve ever told me. And then I…put in commentary about why it’s all important. How it all—“ a shaky breath ravages your tense system “—made you the man you are today.”

“Honey,” Steve starts with an inscrutable tone. You’re not sure what’s coming but your mind is on fire. “When did you start this?”

You giggle nervously, afraid to admit the truth, but he’ll know. Steve Rogers will know if you lie to him.

“The day…” you say quietly, “the same day you…when I sat on your couch for the first time. The day my hand was injured, again, well, the second time. I wrote down little descriptions of how you looked sketching, real you, not Captain you. I didn’t know what I’d do with it, but I knew even then that most people don’t get to see that. It just…snowballed from there.”

From where his finger sits in the stack, Steve’s already forty to fifty pages in. How long has he been in here? Jeez! He looks down at the manuscript and then back out toward the hall. He runs a broad hand over his face.

“So like a year,” he questions.

You nod and bite your lip.

“Dang, I—“ The sharp, slapping thud of paper on your desk startles you until you’re pulled into a huge hug. “I only spent three weeks on the picture.”

“Heh,” you cry-laugh. Your shoulders kick up to your ears even under the weight of Steve’s arms. “I’m an over-achiever.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh, but he’s more focused on tucking his arms beneath yours to lift you up. Your hands slide across his shoulders and bury your fingers in his hair. Steve hums between chuckles. You can feel his smile through your shirt at your collarbone.

His words are muffled in the fabric. “What’s it called?”

You quickly sweep away a few recklessly shedding tears and gasp in relief. “Ah, well, the working title—the one I’m leaning toward—is The Son of Joseph and Sarah.”

Steve stops laughing. He grips you tighter for a long moment.

It’s bright daylight. You both are fully clothed in a nearly furniture-less room. You aren’t even eye-to-eye, but neither of you has ever been so exposed to the other. From early on, Steve said he struggled to find the lines to capture you. You replied by saying you wanted the words to describe him. You’re both here now, at the finish line of your separate lives, at the start of your lives together, and you’ve done it: you’ve learned one another enough to show what you’ve seen. It’s beautiful. It’s flawed. It’s a long, long time in the making. It involves so many people and experiences you weren’t around for, but you understand.

You let Steve hold you as long as he wants, and after what feels like an eternity (which isn’t enough), he untucks his face and sniffs the air.

“Oh, wow, that smells good. I’m starving.”

You’d completely forgotten again. Good thing he’s around to remind you.

[Next Part]

I can't handle how sweet Steve would be in a relationship, guys. Like this literally haunts me at night--his cuteness, his support. Just dying, but really happy about it? Ugh, ok, happy Thursday everyone! Dignity get's updated tomorrow...

@im-a-slut-for-fluff

Ope! Almost forgot there's a masterlist.

#steve rogers fic #steve x reader #fluff and feels #fools rush in #steve rogers #fluff and romance #steve x you #fanfic #series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #eventual smut

[inkofamethyst]

May 8, 2023

LAST WEEK.  ONE FINAL WEEK OF UNDERGRAD.  

Heh so remember the way I was supposed to do nothing this summer?  Well, that lasted absolutely no time at all because I’ve accepted a TA gig for a few weeks out of the summer.  Now, look, I’ve TA’d for this class twice before at this point, so it shouldn’t take up too much mental space.  The gig is short enough that commuting and paying at the meter is less than half the price of a parking pass.  Plus, my lease doesn’t end until the last day of the gig, should I need to use my apartment.  And, most importantly, teaching has been fun for me!  Getting more experience with it will be thoroughly welcomed!  Besides, I’d’ve grown terribly bored doing nothing this summer anyway.

I have a lot of.. stuff to go through before moving.  I need to figure out exactly what I want to bring with me to a place where I could be living for six or seven years.  Beyond clothes and cookware, there’s books and my sewing stuff and honestly just figuring out what I should throw away from the past several years of living in or close to my home.  And now that I don’t need to save notes from high school for my sibling (she never found them particularly useful anyway), I suppose those should go.  Just... a lot of things I’ve been needlessly holding on to.

Preliminary summer goals: healthy haircare, sewing like a maniac, selling and donating and trashing things I don’t need anymore, packing, identifying strategies and systems for grad school success, binging a ton of shows, reading a ton of books.  And resting.  I thought I was maybe going to try to learn bass guitar this summer, but I think the transition to grad school is going to take up enough active brainpower that I might save that musical exploration for some other time.  Maybe the summer after I finish classes/comps.  When I shift into full-time research, I’m going to need to delineate work and home pretty clearly to manage my mental health, I’d imagine.

I’ve been thinking about high school a little bit recently, and I randomly remembered this one girl who auditioned for every musical and every play every single year and didn’t make the cut until her final year.  I, honestly, want to be a lot more like her.  That’s resilience.  That’s knowing what you want.  That’s weathering shame and disappointment repeatedly and not letting it affect you personally.  That’s not basing your self-worth on someone else’s opinion.  

Part of the reason I decided not to pursue theatre (I considered it with intermediate interest) was because I didn’t think it would be beneficial to my mental state to exist in an industry where my ability was constantly judged and compared (yes yes yes I know I know academia is quite similar in that regard, but my ~intelligence~ is separate from my “creative ability” in my mind, and while I value them both, I am more insecure in my identity as a creative).  I knew myself quite well, and I don’t think I had(/have) what it took to survive (maybe one day).  But knowing who you are and valuing yourself independent of what others have to say?  I’m workin on it.

Granted.  There is merit to knowing when an opportunity is simply not for you.  The limit of unsuccessful attempts is different for everyone, but if the attempts aren’t harmful to your life in any way, I don’t see a reason why that limit cannot be extraordinarily large.

Also, the group project went well in stats.  We got above the minimum grade I needed, so that’s one more A on the resume :)  now I just need to worry about cell bio’s group project :/ (I’ve done my part, just waiting on others at this point [edit, a few days later: we submitted but it’s honestly not up to the standard I was hoping for and pushing for.  literally if we’d met online for fifteen minutes synchronously I think we could’ve elevated the project significantly, but whatever, guess I’ve gotta wait and see])

Today I’m thankful for the pink lemonade I had today from the engineering building :)  I don’t ever go in the engineering building (it’s nice up in there tho), but my photo-friend was right about this.  It’s insanely sweet and I’m now suffering from a sugar-induced headache but they put their whole foot in that lemonade so I can’t be too mad.

[rakunsarebetr]

It's not your choice

so ig ill just post this story here cause I really wanted to write it

it's a multi-parter ill link the rest chapters after posting them

it's slow-paced following the life of a mha oc that was born quirkless and their parents joined the liberation army before even finding that out so yah if I get till later chapters there will be gore so yall are warned

They say your true self shows in moments of distress.

That's not quite true.

What happens is more of well,

you lose yourself.

a moment traumatic enough might force you to show how much you're willing to do to survive yes,

but what happens next is you lose yourself, everything you've ever been

and ever may be

goes straight into the trash.

Something new gets born

and well that thing is a lot of fun.

I've never been an obedient kid, quite the contrary,

I was what people might call a free soul.

A kid is crying on the ground holding his hurt arm a little girl ,glaring at him a stone is tightly held in her small fist

"And make sure to not mess with my friends !" She yelled angry, limping slightly because of her missing front tooth,

throwing the stone to the side caused the crying boy to get up and run away.

Behind her was another kid,

green eyes still watery as he hiccuped trying to stop his crying,

but he could never get it under control.

Extending a hand the little girl gave him a warm smile

"he won't be bothering us again"

and with that, the boy took her hand accepting the help, and getting up as he gave her a teary smile.

a voice took their attention away

" There's the kid that hit me, mommy!"

without even looking in their direction, the brunette girl whispered

"run"

before both of them started sprinting for their life

small hands held on tight so they didn't lose each other.

Ah yes, childhood friendship.

It's always so sweet

so pure

shame it's not you that decides what happens with your life.

It's your parents.

small hands were holding onto her backpack, big brown eyes staring at the car door as she desperately tried blinking the fat tears away

I guess she was never much better at controlling her emotions than him.

As her father opened the door of their car a shaky voice spoke from behind them

" Kichan?"

Turning she saw her friend

once again tears were brimming in his eyes.

He was clenching a beaten-up box wrapped with crunchy Christmas decoration paper a sloppily tied bow keeping it all together.

" I...I wanted to tell you bye" He said desperately trying to keep his voice from shaking and just as desperately failing.

With her side view, the girl saw her dad clench his jaw.

He never liked Izuku very much,

he would constantly tell mom how he was a bad influence and stopping Kierus's growth maybe they hated that he was quirkless

but then again so was she.

She knew that already even if everyone was saying she'll just be a late bloomer.

She never quite grasped the whole quirk mania

Quickly she was sent back to reality as another sniffle escaped her friend

" I wanted to give you that"

he started, eyes concentrated on his feet too emotional to look her in the eye, but his hands still handed the box

" to make sure you don't forget me"

the small boy said, forcing himself to finally look up at them as her own lip started trembling

without another word she just hugged him

accidentally crushing further the box in between them.

Neither cared as he hugged her back letting out another cry as he shoved his face in her shoulder wetting it with tears.

The two kids spend maybe ten or twenty minutes like this,

they couldn't tell,

all that was sure was that it wasn't enough.

Soon sadly Kierus parents divided them and put her in the car

Looking at him through the glass window she waved

the other hand gripping tightly on the door

maybe she should've jumped out of the car at that moment

but she didn't

soon enough the car was too far away and she couldn't see the green blob of hair anymore.

Gulping her hiccups

worried if she makes any more sounds her parents may get angered, the little girl sat back in her seat looking down at the gift in her lap.

Carefully she played a bit with the ribbon before collecting her courage and removing it tearing away the wrapping paper she was left with a regular shoe box and inside was a plushie,

not any plushie it was a little all might one

one of the first plushies his mom gave him

she remembered that cause Kieru was the first person he told, he was so excited about it, rambling about the stitching and details for 30 minutes straight, she never tried stopping him even made sure to look as excited as possible

it was worth it, he looked so happy

Why would he give something he treasured so much to her

There was a real chance they might never see each other again, and yet he still gave it

just so she has something from him.

I have to come back.

I will come back

#my hero academy oc #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero fanfic #izuku x reader #izuku x oc #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugo

[thequietmanno1]

Thelreads, MHA 287, Replies Part 2

1) “Yeah! The broccoli boy is the chosen one, he shall guide this quirk forward! Begone, foul demon of the potato fields, begone!”- The fact that AFO’s possession of others through his vestige is treated akin to an actual demon’s, if even more invasive and defiling, says a lot about him.

2) “Yeah Shigaraki, I mean, there’s only two of you, and there’s like, 9 of them on the other side, of course they would be winning this battle of wills. Be grateful they don’t obliterate yo asses out of here”- Tomura doesn’t actually give a crap about stealing OFA himself either, but he’s annoyed that the power can seriously resist his own overwhelming might and the destruction he unleashes with it, so that motivates him to oppose them regardless. 3) “You really gonna try this angle AfO? For real? Even though you know you can’t measure up to their will?

They might have not been stronger than you in the real world, but it comes to willpower, you don’t stand a chance, it’s like a gust of wind against a tornado. This is futile, even Shigaraki cannot help you in this.”- It’s a match-up of quality over quantity actually. Tomura and AFO are outnumbered by the other vestiges, sure, but Tomura’s hatred and ever-present rage against the world entre was groomed by AFO to be as mindless and primal as possible, in order to overcome their numbers. Individually, he can overpower each one of them, and this is only after having just awakened. Given enough time, he could further refine it, now he has experience of the vestige realm, to seriously threaten to take OFA in one go, regardless of what resistance they put up. MHA as a series has always been about emotional highs, invoking that “hell yes” feeling when the heroes pull through despite the odds, bringing you to the peak of emotion in the process. It’s therefore appropriate that AFO's plan incorporates this fact, and best to think of Tomura’s hatred this way: He’s always peaking his hatred 24/7. Even if the other vestiges can resist for a bit, eventually, they will weaken, because Tomura just keeps going and going without letting anything stop him, and that near-force of nature isn’t something a human can resist forever.

4) “OH MY FUCKINGG GOD SHIGARAKI HE LITERALLY JUST SAID HE WAS THE ONE THAT KILLED YOUR GRANDMA HOW ARE YOU NOT CONNECTING THE DOTS ABOUT WHO’S TO BLAME HERE”- Well, he still blames everybody for his issues, so it’s all the same to him. Again, for all that Tomura could be redeemed, he does everything he can to choose not to, because he’s convinced himself he’s better off as a villainous monster, no matter how unhappy it makes him deep down inside. 5) “AfO how dare you speak like that about your own son?! Shame on you, it’s a good thing you don’t have eyes otherwise you’d see how disappointed he is right now”- Izuku started off his journey as a hero with his major antagonist being his childhood bully Bakugo. Appropriately enough, the major villainous threat he faces at the end of his journey, the one his power was cultivated to defeat, is himself just a massive bully as well, and is all the more devastating an opponent for Izuku because of his past experience with it. Izuku’s self-confidence and belief that he’s “worthless” without the powers bestowed upon him have always been a major weak point in his psyche, and AFO is capable of exploiting that weakness with only a few choice sentences. 6) “AND WE’RE BACK IN THE REAL WORLD IT SEEMS

AND READY FOR ROUND TWO I SUPPOSE”- Well, that depends on who you’re referring to. Because I don’t think Tomura’s in any fit state to pilot that engine of destruction he calls a body, but somebody else seems more than willing to jump in… 7) “Oh right, here comes the rest of the circus, with definitely-not-a-todoroki preparing to throw hands against his fam again. Good lord.”- Given how unexpected Machia’s appearance will be for those fighting at the hospital, I appreciate them building up his arrival so much, given it;d be a massive diablos Ex Machina for him to burst in just as they’re on their last legs agasitn Tomura already. 8) “Oh yeah, that’s definitely the face of someone who just lost someone close to him less than half an hour ago”- Dabi’s the kind of guy to always look on the bright side of life. Twice is dead, but otherwise, things are progressing smoothly, so may as well smile so the enemy doesn’t have the satisfaction of knowing you’re upset!....if he is actually upset. Again, hard to tell, he keeps his cards so close to the chest. (MHA ch 271) 9) “…

I don`t know why, but I don`t like the sound of that.”- He’s got a plan, and he’s not gonna share it with anybody, so nobody will be able to stop him…. 10) "Toga is still… thoughtful…

Seems like she’s also keeping some distance from Dabi, but more than that, she’s looking for someone, and we know who. Midoriya is there, and so is Uraraka. She is wondering where both of them are, we know that she is."- Compress is, as ever, noteful of his allies’ true thoughts and feelings and doing what he can to make sure that they’re all together in this evendour, despite his own comparative lack of power in a fight, just like a good supporter should. I actually find it interesting that he phrases the question to Toga in such a way that he’s giving her the option to stay out of the battle if she really doesn’t want to hurt the enemy, even after all the sacrifices their side has taken. It’s more care and consideration for her loss than Dabi’s showing.

11) “We can make an argument about how Hawks had to kill Twice, otherwise countless other people would die instead, about how he was not happy with what he had done, and even about how Dabi has as much guilt as Hawks does about what happen, but that does not change what happens for Toga.

The heroes are there, and they won’t save her, they will just kill her if they deem that is necessary.”- It was one thing for the world to reject her and the way she naturally is. It’s another to realise that it might be ok with killing her if it’d be easier than treating her as a human being, especially in an ongoing warzone. To her, the idea of heroes is a oppressive force that enforces judgement and condemnation, and now arbitrary execution on her friends and allies. She knows on some level that this is part of society’s system, but she wants to meet Izuku and Uraraka, the two she knows personally amongst the “enemy” to get their perspective on events and her specifically. Is she a victim to them? Or a monster to be put down?

12) “And thus, she want answers from the two heroes who she actually trust. She wants to know what they would’ve done, if they were the ones that were there, besides Twice

Would them see him as a person or as villain? They didn’t know what he went through, the pain he felt, would the choices he had to do to survive in this cruel world even matter for them? If it came to this, would them kill him as well?”- Honestly, the outcome would have indeed been different if it was anybody other than Hawks facing Twice – both in the good and bad sense. Hawks did the best he could to respect twice as a person, but it just wasn't enough, and he didn’t have the power to stop the parade any other way in the end. Izuku might have been strong enough to smash all the clones in an instant, and if Uraraka had used anti-gravity on twice, she could have yeeted him a safe distance, but that still might not have stopped the parade from happening. In the end, the fact we don’t know if there was a better way to resolve it puts us in the same boat as Toga and the heroes.

13) “We know the answers, we know where their hearts are, but Toga has been so shaken about this whole situation that she doesn’t know what to believe anymore

Her faith is being tested, she needs the answers to see if there are heroes and villains, or if this is just a lie to justify this madness”- At this point, it’s neither heroes or villains fighting straight out of a comic book, it’s just people on opposite sides coming into bloody, painful conflict with no way to stop it. @thelreads

#my hero academia #bnha #chapter replies #thelreads #mha 287

[syn-amin]

Snippet of the First Chapter of My Reworked Dottolone fic - NSFW

“For the past year, most of my funds have gone to my research in hopes of supporting the Tsaritsa, per usual,” he began, talking in a tone Pantalone perceived to be self congratulatory. “You’re not the only Harbinger splitting your ass for a goddess,” he thought. “Nothing special about bending backwards and licking the cunt of an almighty being just to continue living your life the way you’d like…”

“But there’s been another subject of my interest, and another drain on my funds…”

“And who’s this? Someone important?” Pantalone snorted. He was getting tired of the Doctor’s theatrics. “You better not disappoint with all of this set-up you’re doing, sir.”

“Oh you know them quite well, I’m sure,” Dottore said, teeth peeking out from behind curled lips. “This person’s habits are quite interesting, I must say, and I really believe I - and the Tsaritsa’s cause - would benefit greatly from further study.”

“Could I get some examples?” Pantalone said, resting his cheek on his fist. Might as well humor the Doctor for now. Perhaps this could still warrant some entertainment.

“Exhibit one,” Dottore said, throwing down a handful of photos taken from a high quality Kamera.

Pantalone’s heart stopped.

Pictures of him.

Pictures of him in Liyue Harbor, just nights before.

Pictures of him in Liyue Harbor, just nights before, bedding another man.

“Why the fuck do you have pictures of me?” Pantalone spat, standing up from his chair, sending it flying back a foot. “Why the fuck do you have pictures of me in a private setting? Doing something so intimate?”

“Like I said, this person is very interesting to study,” Dottore said, smile growing wider by the second. “Don’t act like you’re so covert about it either, because, frankly, you’re not,” he added. “I’ve seen the tents you pitch in the middle of important meetings, your mind on anything and everything but the impending war we as Harbingers must bring. I’ve seen the way you try to slyly finger at your growing erections, very likely getting off on the fact you could be caught and shamed. I know you’ve used your status as Harbinger - or even your riches - to sleep with the people you want, when you want,” Dottore said with a gruff rasp to his voice. “To be even more frank with you, I do not care a single bit about the moral implications of your decisions,” he said while getting back to his feet. “But what I do care about is what I can get you to do for me, simply by threatening to leak this information to all who know your name.”

Dottore went silent, and did nothing but stare down at the darker haired man, his smile reaching a point where he could not smile harder, skin contorting unnaturally.

And Pantalone. He was scared. He was so scared. But despite this, his cock throbbed within his tight pants, fighting against the fabric for freedom.

Fuck had he been right about Dottore’s voice sounding perfect for doing dirty talk.

“Oho? I knew you were a filthy slut, Regrator, but pitching it when I’ve threatened your career and social standing? Bold; very, very bold…”

“You know my every habit and turn-on don’t you, Dottore? You’re just being cruel at this point.”

“Mm, perhaps I am,” Dottore hummed. “This doesn’t settle anything for us, though, in fact, I haven’t even shared my thesis, just the hook.”

“Fucking Akademia dismissee…” Pantalone sneered inwardly. “Go on then.” He was already irritable enough, but this goddamn boner was making him even more pissed off.

“Because I understand every one of your ‘habits and turn-ons,’ wouldn’t it make sense for me to use this knowledge to… give you some relief?” Dottore said with a grin. “And before you ask what’s in it for me, I’ll go ahead and tell you. You receive immense pleasure, and I receive the mora needed for my research; it works out perfectly.” He licked his lips, resting one hand on the stack of photos before him. “That phrase you said before, ‘an eye for an eye,’ I’ve really taken it to heart, Regrator.”

In seconds, Pantalone was rushing forward, reaching across the desk to grab at Dottore’s harness, pulling him into a sloppy kiss, teeth gnashing against each other. Pulling back, he whispered:

“Then you might as well get to work on proving that, Doctor.”

#genshin impact #genshin #dottolone #dottore #pantalone #genshin fic #you can read the rest of this first chapter on my ao3 acc synamin

[stevenose]

don’t delete the kisses - part 1/?

landing page

a camboy!steve au

this installment contains: a lot of lore!; camboy!steve; friend/coworker!reader; masturbation; drug use (mary jane); yearning/pining

i know i’m SO late to the pornstar!/camboy!steve party but hear me out. coworker steve that does OF/camming as supplemental income bc it’s 2023 and you’re working at a video store and no one even owns dvd players anymore.

and he’s really open about it with you. like maybe a little too open. and he’s always teasing hehe did you see my stream the other night :) and you always reply with “of COURSE not” because steve is. well. he’s steve. he’s attractive - drop dead gorgeous - and seeing him naked and hearing him moan while he touches himself would make you combust. but he’s always saying “you can you know, it’s not WEIRD or anything” (when it definitely is).

but one night, you cave. you’re very aware of his username. it’s been ringing in your head since the day he told you it. you log onto the site and almost turn back at the paywall, because why would you give steve YOUR shift money just to see him jerk off? but curiosity gets the best of you and with a red face and an embarrassed whine caught in your throat, you make an account with a keysmash as the username and pay $10 for the most basic access.

and it’s just. so much. you click the back button, then the forward button, then the back button, then the forward button again. the videos and photos you have access to are very vanilla - you’ve seen his shirt off in the summertime. but there are a few where he’s clearly jerking off, a half-lidded expression in the thumbnail, and it has fire shooting straight down into your core. you can hardly breathe. and you roll your eyes and curse yourself when you reach for your credit card again to get all-access, including the opportunity to view his live-streams. you’re so embarrassed you could die, thankful for the private browsing option.

the page refreshes and you can see. everything. everything. your mouth gapes open as you stare at a picture of his cock. it’s so pretty. it’s so - it’s more than you’d ever imagined in your head when you fleetingly thought of him like that. and having the real thing in front of you, having videos of him fucking into a fleshlight, breathing hard and throwing his head back - your hand is in your pants almost immediately. your self restraint and respect has flown out the window. now, you’re insatiable, watching steve whimper “yes, take it, good girl” and “mmm, ‘bout to cum in your slutty little hole, baby boy, spread yourself open for me.” you cum harder than you ever have in your life, that burning shame crawling back over your skin as you come down, quickly closing out of the browser and willing yourself to not think about it ever again.

but you do. man, you do. the very next day, because you remember steve streams tuesdays at 7. and you log on, clicking on his video while chewing on your lip. just to see. he’s so popular, 2k people watching his stream and it’s only started 5 minutes ago. you have no idea why he’s still working at a shit, run-down movie store when he could just do this for the rest of his life, easy.

and god, you’re such a fucking pervert. cheeks flushing when he asks the audience to play truth or dare with donations. asks for truths, and people flood in with questions, with money. what’s your favorite toy? have you ever been fucked in the ass? best time you’ve had sex?

and he’s answering, gently jerking himself off - you think he actually might only be getting off from the attention. you know how he gets when girls walk into work. and - fuck, you’re so stupid. $20 of your paycheck goes to the question what do you think about when you jerk off?

“new username,” he says, and you don’t know how he even noticed when there’s 3k viewers here. “hi, newbie. thanks for the tip! i think about different things, depends on my mood. there’s really only one person i think of, though, especially when i’m getting off when i’m - well, when i’m off camera.” he smiles, he’s so fucking charming. you wonder who, a bit of jealousy twisting painful in your gut. you want to ask who, but the rest of the viewers do that for you.

$5. who?

$1. who?

$5. someone you know?

steve laughs, kind of rolls his eyes and adjusts in his seat. “tell ya what. get me to $500 and i’ll tell you.”

you find yourself donating another $10. you’re seething at your own stupidity - if you wanted steve to rob you, you’d leave your wallet out at work. but you’re so curious, squeezing your thighs together while steve jerks off, watching the money tally up. it doesn’t take long, and he smiles big, thanking everyone for their support.

“i’m not naming names - i’m not a moron. although i know they don’t watch this.” he kind of pauses, like he’s thinking it through. “it’s a coworker. that’s all i’ll say.”

you almost throw your laptop. a coworker. it CAN’T be robin, and if it’s keith, steve has major, major issues. but there’s no WAY he thinks of you.

“you guys wanna see how i get off to the thought of them? wanna know what i think about?”

and he’s so dirty. detailing fucking them - well, you, it would seem - over the counter. fucking his fingers in and out of his crush until they’re wet and sloppy and finally sliding his cock in. he’s fucking his obscenely lubed-up fleshlight as he groans out his visions, the tendons in his neck flexing as his head throws back. “jesus - shit. i - fuck, if only th-they knew how i wanna - wanna do this to them.”

a few comments ask why the object of his desires doesn’t watch. almost every comment goes on and on about how jealous they are of whoever stevethehair wants to fuck like that. and you can’t be bothered to type a comment, even when the suspense of who is killing you, because you’re fucking yourself at the same pace that he’s fucking the toy. sweating, moaning, gasping his name, coming harder than you ever have at the same time he spills his load into the toy.

after catching your breath, you slam your laptop shut, heading for the coldest shower ever - because you’ve gotta scrub your dirty, filthy thoughts and actions and questions away.

you work with steve again two days later, and you can’t even look at him. literally. looking at any other thing in the store except for his big, brown eyes, knowing now what he’s boasting. money, fans, a huge cock. you choke on your own breath and get lightheaded around him, and his brows are furrowed harshly at you. “what’s gotten into you? everything okay?”

“super good,” you whisper, the image of him fucking that fleshlight back in your head, eyes trained on his big hands. you want to ask who he was talking about the other night, but you can’t give yourself away. it’d be too embarrassing, and even more so devastating if he was just lying for the stream. making something up just to get his pay - nothing more.

but steve’s not stupid. he can piece it together by the end of your shift. he’s immediately embarrassed, too, because despite telling you to watch him, he never meant for you to. it was more teasing than anything. the very idea that you may have tuned in to see his stream on tuesday has his blood running cold, because he mentioned you. like a fucking idiot. two seconds after proclaiming to several thousands of people that he wasn’t a moron.

“hey,” he says softly, closing and locking the front door at the end of the night. “you - i just. i just want to say - you don’t have to watch me. actually, you shouldn’t. i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable. i was just fooling around.”

you swallow hard and kick at the pavement under your feet. “yeah, totally. let’s just be coworkers, yeah?”

“yeah.”

you jerk off to him again that night. he does the same.

#steve harrington smut #stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #THIS IS THE LARGEST WALL OF TEXT IM SORRY. #reader’s gender never mentioned btw! #camboy!steve

[themackenzieboydchronicles]

Aaron Reassures Mackenzie and is Livid with Chas.

Mackron Fanfic.

"I think I might try a little walk today Aaron" said Mack "I feel a little stronger"

"As long as you're sure it won't tire you out" said Aaron getting Macks coat.

"I think I'll be fine" said Mack

"Well wrap up well" said Aaron zipping Macks coat up "Here put this scarf on"

"I heard Liam say if it wasn't for the way you looked after me I could have died" said Mack.

"I did what any other boyfriend would have done" said Aaron as him and Mack walked down the lane. "I looked after Jackson when he was dying"

"Was he your first love Aaron?" Mack asked.

Aaron nodded.

"You must have loved him so much" said Mack.

"I did. I helped him at the end when he'd had enough" said Aaron.

"That must have been hard Aaron" said Mack.

"It creased me" said Aaron.

"That took some courage" said Mack taking hold of Aarons hand.

"I know what you're thinking Mack" said Aaron.

"What?" asked Mack.

"Did I love him more than you" replied Aaron.

"No. No" said Mack holding his head down as he was thinking exactly that.

"Mack I can read you like a book. Never ever have any doubt about how much I love you" said Aaron "Coz you are the most important person in my life now" he said stopping to give Mack a reassuring kiss. "I know how insecure you are and I love you so much"

"Let's stop a while" said Mack as they came to the bridge where Meena had died. "Someone's laid flowers" said Mack starting to cry.

"Mack don't" said Aaron "She's not worth your tears and she can't hurt you anymore"

"I killed her Aaron. I killed her" sobbed Mack.

"Mack it was self defense" Aaron reassured Mack.

"I loved her Aaron" said Mack "Does that make me a bad person?"

"No Mack it doesn't" said Aaron "You've got Lucy now"

"And I absolutely adore her Aaron" said Mack. "And I've got so much making up to do to her"

"She worships you Mack" said Aaron "So just get Meena out of your head for good and look forward to your baby daughter"

"I'm sorry Aaron for making this all about me" said Mack "I know how much you're hurting over Liv. I'm sorry. It was selfish of me"

"I'm calling in on Vinny to see how he's coping Mack" said Aaron as they approached the village.

"I'll wait outside he doesn't want an audience" said Mack.

"Right I'm gojng to see mum at the pub" said Aaron who was raging as he came out of The Mill.

"What's happened?" said Mack.

"Come with me and find out" Aaron said as he dashed into the pub.

"What gives you the right to organise Liv's funeral?" he yelled at his mother who was taken aback.

"Calm down Aaron" said Paddy.

"Calm down?" he yelled "If she had been here when she should have been there would have been no need for Liv to come out in that storm. Liv died because of her" he said grabbing Mack by the arm and dragging him out of the pub. "Let's get out of here"

"What was all that about" asked Mack.

"She was with that piece of shit and Liv and Vinny were going over to babysit when she got hit by the caravan" Aaron yelled. "Let's go home before I do something stupid"

The two men made their way home "Stop Aaron" said Mack "I need to rest my leg"

"I knew this would be to much for you" said Aaron as Mack leaned against a tree.

"Just give me a minute" said Mack.

"Lean on me Mack" said Aaron as they started off again.

"Right you sit down and I'll make a brew" said Aaron.

Aaron made two mugs of tea and took them through to the living room where Mack had fallen asleep on the sofa..

"I knew that walk would be to much for him" he said as Lucy came down stairs.

"How are we going to get him up?" asked Lucy.

"We're not" said Aaron putting a throw over Mack. "I'll sleep down here with him Lucy" he said sitting on the settee next to Mack. "He's well away and it's a shame to wake him as he hasn't been sleeping too well"

"You really look after him Aaron" said Lucy giving Aaron a goodnight kiss "See you in the morning"

25.10.22.

#Aaron dingle,

#mackenzie boyd #aaron dingle #liv flaherty #vinny dingle #chas dingle #mackron fanfic #emmerdale