#dire x reader

Divus Crewel

Ashton Vargas

Mozus Trein

Sam

Divus Crewel

If anyone was more likely to take you in like he would a child to help you feel better about the holiday season, it would be this man. You would spend a lot of time with him, shopping and wrapping gifts for the other staff members. He makes sure to keep you distracted so that you have no time to mope about and wallow in self-pity, even if that’s all you want to do.

You help him decorate his apartment as well, and each ornament he has belongs in the color-theme he selected for this year, which was black, white, gold, and a splash of red. He, too, used his magic to lift you up so that you could place it on top of the tree. This is also a time where you learned that Professor Crewel preferred to remain well-dressed even in the comfort of his own home.

When he gave you your present, it had a well-written card on it. He told you how proud he was of you and how far you had come, and you didn’t even get to the gift itself before you started crying. He opened his arms to you, and you ran into them, sniffling your tears away. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head to comfort you, holding you as a moment of silence took hold.

Ashton Vargas

His apartment was… unique. His living room didn’t have a couch, but rather was a gym itself, despite the apartment complex having a gym. He claimed that they didn’t have the equipment he needed, and he kept you on an exercise regimen during your stay ‘so that you wouldn’t slack off.’ In reality, he didn’t know what to do about your seasonal depression, but he knows exercise can help, and he offers to exercise alongside you.

There’s not a lot of room to put up a tree, so you instead decorate the equipment stands, and you place the gifts that you wrap onto the treadmill that he owns. His kitchen has a few holiday-themed things, and you put lights on top of his cabinets so that the lights will shine onto the walls. It was simple, but it worked and spirited the place a bit more.

Coach’s gift to you was a few gift cards to a few different places in the town below NRC, as he didn’t know what you or Grim would have liked. He freaks out when you start crying, but you say, through sobs, that it was from being grateful. It had been a while since you saw someone as a family figure, and you were glad that he was the one.

Mozus Trein

When he had invited you to his house for the holidays, you were low-key kind of expecting a dungeon. Lo and behold, it was a small but warm and welcoming house. You met his two daughters, and they were very happy to meet you. They became your older sisters, in a sense, with how quickly they accepted you as their family.

A tree was decorated in the corner of the living room, and everyone sat gathered. Presents were passed out, and you were going about in a circle, unwrapping one present each. You were aware that you would be meeting your professor’s daughters, so you made sure to get them some gift cards, as you did not want to show up empty-handed. Trein told you that they would understand, but you were pretty adamant.

Eventually, it got to you, and you unwrapped the one from Mozus, him looking at you with an amused look. Inside of it were a few books to read in your free time that reminded him of you, and each of them had a message that he wrote within them. One of those messages was detailing how proud he was to call you one of his students, and that Lucius even liked you, and you wrapped your arms around him and started crying. He returned the favor, hugging you as though you were his child, and your newfound sisters joined in on the hug as well. Family hug.

Sam

He didn’t go home for the holidays, and opted to stay at the Shop because there were students who still needed things. That being said, he did invite you to celebrate in the shop with him. He’s kind of like your cousin with how close you two were. Anyway, you decided to help him decorate the shop appropriately, as it was feeling a bit dull in there. Lights lined the corners of the walls and the edges of the shelves, making it more festive.

The back of the shop looked similar, but there was a tree back there as well. His friends on the other side helped him decorate it, as well as you and Grim. It had a bunch of different colors, but it was able to portray the different personalities between the multitude of you. You smiled with nostalgia lining your lips at the star on top, and you had a feeling you were going to make it through this season unscathed.

The air behind the monastery was cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and the distant echo of training shouts from the valley beyond. Afternoon sun slanted low, golden light filtering through the rough stone and climbing vines that wreathed the secluded corner. It was supposed to be a time for drills, breathing exercises, and channeling Hamon into disciplined focus.

But here, in the quiet shadow of the monastery wall, there was no discipline; only you, pressed close against Dire, mouths sealed together in a kiss that grew hungrier with each breath.

His lips were warm and steady, moving against yours with the kind of confidence that spoke not of fleeting lust, but of someone who knew what he wanted, someone who loved what he held. Dire kissed like he meant it, each sweep of his tongue, each lingering press of his mouth, threaded with devotion that made your pulse skip. His hands cradled your face at first, thumbs brushing your cheeks, before sliding down the sides of your neck, to your shoulders, to your waist, pulling you flush against the solid wall of his body.

You melted into him, sighing softly, your fingers curling in the fabric of his tunic. The muscles beneath were hard from training, solid as the stones of the wall behind you, but he held you gently, always with care.

When the kiss broke for air, his forehead rested against yours, and his voice was low, steady, tinged with warmth. " You know," He started, breath fanning your lips, " if we're caught, they'll scold us for skipping training."

You smiled faintly, brushing your nose against his. " Then we'll just have to make it worth it."

His laugh was soft, a sound that vibrated through his chest, and his mouth claimed yours again, his hand sliding firmly down your back until it gripped your hip, tugging you closer. He pressed you slowly backward until the rough stone wall met your spine, warm from the sun, unyielding beneath his strength.

Your breath caught as he pulled back just long enough to look at you. His gaze was fierce but tender, eyes searching your face with an intensity that made your heart clench. " I love you," He told you simply, as though the words were as natural to him as breathing.

Then, before you could even respond, he bent, gripping your thighs with strong, steady hands. With practiced ease, he lifted you, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist as he pressed you back against the wall. The stone scraped faintly through your clothes, grounding you in the reality of it, even as desire lit a fire low in your belly.

Pinned between him and the monastery's wall, your arms looped instinctively around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair as his mouth sought yours again. The kiss was rougher now, not careless, but charged, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as his hips pressed forward, the heat of his arousal grinding against you through layers of fabric.

You gasped into the kiss and he groaned low, the sound vibrating through you. His grip tightened on your thighs, holding you securely even as he rolled his hips with deliberate pressure.

" Tell me you want this," Dire murmured against your lips when he pulled away slightly, his voice husky with both need and restraint. His forehead pressed to yours again, his breath ragged now. " Tell me, and I'll give you everything."

Your answer came not in words at first, but in the way you kissed him desperately, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you. When you finally broke for air, you were breathless but certain. " I want you, Dire. Always."

Something in his expression softened, though his body trembled faintly with the force of holding himself back. He nodded once, as if sealing a vow, and then lowered his mouth to your neck, pressing slow kisses along the line of your throat. Each brush of his lips made you shiver, each scrape of his teeth made your breath hitch.

His hands shifted, one holding you steady beneath your thigh, the other sliding up under your tunic, his calloused fingers stroking your skin with aching tenderness. He touched you as though memorizing every inch, his palm spanning the curve of your waist before gliding higher, tracing the lines of your ribs. When his hand finally cupped your breast, his thumb brushing lightly over the peak, you moaned softly, head tipping back against the wall.

" Perfect," He whispered, lips brushing your collarbone. " You're perfect to me."

The words melted into you, heat pooling low as he kissed his way back up to your mouth, his hand working you with deliberate care, never too rough, always attentive to every sound and shiver you gave him. And all the while, his body pressed firm against yours, rocking faintly as if he couldn't bear to let go, couldn't stop even if he tried.

You clung to him, your legs tight around his waist, urging him closer, and when he finally shifted, lowering one hand to fumble briefly with his belt, your breath caught, anticipation surging like fire through your veins. He adjusted you once more to bunch your own fabrics up to get them out of his way before he freed himself completely, his tip pressed hot against you, the promise of him stealing your breath.

He paused, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his expression soft. " Are you ready?" He asked, voice low, steady despite the tremor in his body.

" Yes," you whispered, and the word came out like a vow.

With a slow, careful push, he eased inside, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he groaned, the sound raw with both pleasure and the effort to control himself. You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, the stretch intense but grounding, every inch of him filling you.

He held still at first, his breath harsh against your neck. " You feel... gods, you feel incredible." His voice shook, as if the sensation of you had undone him entirely.

When he began to move, it was with steady thrusts, his hips rolling into you with strength tempered by restraint. Each motion pressed you harder against the wall, the rough stone biting faintly at your back, but you barely noticed. All you felt was him, his body, his love, his devotion poured into every movement.

Your moans filled the quiet space, mingling with his low groans, the sounds of your bodies moving together echoing faintly off the monastery wall. Your legs clung tighter around him, pulling him deeper, and he responded with a sharper thrust that drew a cry from your lips. He kissed it away, his mouth devouring yours even as he pressed harder, faster, his restraint beginning to fray.

" I love you," Dire murmured between kisses, the words spilling from him like truth he could no longer contain. " I love you, I lo- ah,"

The rhythm built, each thrust stealing your breath, each kiss grounding you in his devotion. Your climax tore through you, leaving you gasping, clutching him tightly as pleasure rippled through your body. Dire groaned your name, his thrusts faltering as he joined you, his release spilling into you with a shuddering cry muffled by your kiss.

For a long moment, you stayed there, tangled together, his body still holding you against the wall as though he never wanted to let go. His breath was ragged, his forehead pressed to yours.

" I meant it," He whispered once he caught his breath, his thumb brushing your cheek. " I'll love you every day, every moment. Always."

And as he lowered you gently back to the ground, kissing you again softly, you knew he meant every word.

✥ Firstly, just because he’s a prude doesn’t mean he knows he’s a prude. In fact, Dire fancies himself something of a devil in terms of romance, he thinks he’s too bold for those timid-hearted younglings, truly!

✥ Has written many a saucy love letter in his time, the very thought of the filth he’s written makes him red in the face when he thinks about it, “I would kiss your bare knee”, “If you were at my side this night, the cold would not frighten me so”, and “My love, my body yearns only for you” are just a few of the salacious gems he’s patted himself on the back about. What a dog, eh?

✥ It’s so painfully easy to riled Dire up it’s almost not fun, you could blink at him wrong and he’d think you were a minx. Touch his hand when taking something from him? He’s already wide eyed at your confidence. Put your face close to his for any reason? Are you trying to seduce him? Or, Seven forbid, you- I can’t even say it... Put a hand on his thigh? Good job, you killed him, he’s gone. Donezo. No more birdman.

✥ The first time he sees your calves he trips over air and his mask smashes into the ground so hard it’s amazing the beak didn’t crack off. And you’re just, out! Like that! Without a care! Our poor headmaster is so flustered he has to run off into an unused classroom to hyperventilate, he’s so hot all of a sudden and his big flashy coat seems far too thick.

✥ Will actually scream/yelp out loud if you wear anything off-the-shoulder, like, clutch his chest (and pearls) and shriek. Once he realizes that no one else seems to care you’re entirely exposed, he’ll play it off like he saw a bug or something. He doesn’t care, nope, no sir, he’s not sneaking peeks behind his mask at all. Shoulder are so mundane and totally not attractive to him at all.

✥ Don’t mention collarbones. Just don’t, for his sake, don’t.

✥ If you ever manage to get his number, you’re in for a treat! He still think love letters are the way to anyone’s heart and sends you a paragraph text so long you have to scroll for 2 minutes to reach the end. He’s quite proud of himself, he’s smugly sure you’re shivering at the thought of him.

✥ His bravado is dead the moment he open the image you sent him in return. He not touching his phone for a month btw, he can’t even type his password without going red and yelling in embarrassment. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or in front of people, if he thinks about it, he’s yelling.

✥ Goes to Crewel for help because he realizes he’s in over his head but also still wants to look cool and experienced to you. Crewel laughs at him and tells him to struggle. Dire wonders what he pays any of the teachers for.

✥ Moving past Dire’s crisis over how everyone has magically become more experienced than him, we should also talk about how proud this man is. He absolutely loves praise and likes being told in detail that he’s doing a good job. Keep it sweet and if you think you’re over doing it? Do even more, because he’s eating it up no matter how cheesy or irrelevant the praise might be. You could say he makes great omelets and he would feel like the sexiest man alive.

✥ Definitely says “making love” instead of “fucking”, and if you say fucking he’s going to correct you and/or be flustered by your vulgarity. 

✥ Has never said “dick” in his life, always always uses a euphemism. 

✥ If his partner tries to dirty talk him he’s just going to stare with his jaw on the floor and now no one gets to do anything because Dire.exe has stopped working for the rest of the night. 

✥ Just, help him. He’s stuck in the 1900s somewhere and you’re going to have to hold his hand through modern-day hook-ups, he’s lost and afraid but morbidly intrigued by everything you teach him once he gets over his pride.

Divus Crewel

Ashton Vargas

Mozus Trein

Sam

Divus Crewel

Ashton Vargas

Mozus Trein

Sam

Divus Crewel

Ashton Vargas

Mozus Trein

Sam