#“Some” because I have more than just this
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egophiliac · 2 days ago
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The cut they did with the latest chapter...Malleus was straight up a HORROR VILLAIN IN THE BEST AND MOST TERRIFYING WAY EVER.
"You're 'awake', aren't you, Shroud?" CHILLS LITERAL CHILLS
now, let's be fair to Malleus, he started out very politely! a dainty little knock on Idia's door. graciously allow a couple of minutes to give him a chance to realize that his rebellion is futile and all shall succumb in the end. then, when that doesn't work, a firmer but still unquestionably mannerly knock. then just straight-up haunting his shit
honestly, there was a surprising amount of Twst trying out just a little bit of horror movie in this one! like. you're having a nice cup of tea one minute and then it turns into Alice in Wonderland Does The Cube. everything's red for some reason. your friend's mom is actually a mass of giant shrieking arms rising from the depths to drown you in an ocean of chamomile. this is all a precursor to being hunted as the most dangerous game throughout a labyrinth by dopplegangers of your best friends. what's going on, Twst. are you okay.
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#art#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland spoilers#twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland episode 7 part 12 spoilers#twisted wonderland book 7 part 12 spoilers#...this felt less tangential before i went to actually post it#my brain is all over the place right now i apologize#did very much appreciate how we cut from malleus' still quite polite knocking#and then when we finally cut back a few hours later idia still hasn't answered his door and the room is just SHAKING#malleus probably thinks he's still showing remarkable patience given the situation#anyway i do apologize for this again. for some reason silver going I PLAY THE OCARINA was ridiculously funny to me and i want it everywhere#i think just because we had an incredible superband for about thirty seconds there#i'm so sad we never got to hear any of them#just imagine it#like...okay we do know cater knows how to play guitar#(the light music club tends to be portrayed as more 'enthusiastic' than 'good' but to be fair that's probably mostly lilia's fault)#and then riddle on vocals and che'nya on bass#having not actually experienced any of their playing the actual quality of which is anyone's guess#meanwhile adeuce are doing interpretative dance over in the corner#ortho is delightedly pressing buttons on a soundboard with no regard as to audio harmony#sebek is sawing away at a violin with immense gusto and absolutely zero skill#and in the back there's silver just dead-facedly piping away on his ocarina like the weird little forest nymph he is#why no i still haven't gotten any sleep. too busy thinking about how much i really want deuce to actually ask riddle about his pet dog.#i want this to be the new running joke that deuce never figures out
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markrosewater · 11 hours ago
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I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.
The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.
Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.
I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.
You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.
Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.
You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.
And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.
And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.
Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.
Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.
That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.
Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.
But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.
If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.
When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.
Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?
How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?
Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.
There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.
I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?
Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.
Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.
And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.
To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?
Thanks for reading.
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partiallysame · 2 days ago
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More Price's lil wife
You met the boys once and now you need more obviously
Had you known something in the house breaking meant big strong sexy handsome muscle burly men would come over you would have lived life a little differently. Knowing your husband only sent his team to you because he was out of town meant you had to wait again until he was separated from the rest of 141. A quick phone call to your husband that the fridge wasn’t working (hammer to whatever the pipes and wires on the back were). And an hour later you felt like you were watching Bay Watch or staring at a sexy fireman’s calendar when here comes Riley, MacTavish, and Garrick hoping out of a large truck and strutting down your sidewalk. Tight shirts. Wind blowing. Tools in their hands being tossed and caught one handed why is that sexy? 
“Heard a sweet thing needed some help.” You’re drooling
Aw man, one look at the fridge and they say you need a new one. Too damaged. All staring at you knowingly and the hammer on the counter you definitely forgot to hide. But since their already here, how about some lunch. Soap admits that other than the last meal you made them he had only been eating mess hall foods. “Think of you and your delicious food everytime im eating there.” Now that simply won’t do. When Price gets back you will be asking (demanding) for them to come over for dinner at least once a month (once a week). 
They didn't even make it back to the car when you ran back out. ‘Oh i forgot there's a hole in the garage. (Same hammer from before now covered in drywall.) The power went out. No idea what happened. Lil ol you def didn’t flick every switch until something happened. Easy fix. Wait wait the wifi isn’t working now (unplugged). However many hours later they leave and you get a text from your husband.
“You can just ask for them to come over. Stop breaking things my love.” oops
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stopaskingme · 3 days ago
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A Note on Watches
was watching Conclave with my friend and being a watch nerd, he notes:
Lawrence
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Lawrence was wearing something like an Orient Bambino (possibly passed down). Watches like that are from the eighties.
Clearly, it's not embellished, and worn over time. A used Orient Bambino exudes decorum without being flashy. Pragmatic and cultured.
__________________________________________________
Bellini
Bellini's watch was quite simple as well.
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Potentially an Omega De Ville or more likely a classic Seiko Dolce. Also an old model, implying that he's worn it for some time.
(Apparently, the Omega De Ville doesn't have the same angles) Regardless, people who opt for tank faces (square watches) tend to be ambitious. Simultaneously, they want to project humility.
'He's been doing all the right things to get what he wants,' says my friend. 'He's been curating his image.'
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Benitez
Benitez's Casio f-91w is a functional watch.
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'It exists just to do its job,' says my friend (Nate). 'No fanfare. It tells time and like [Benitez's] character, it's not trying to show up anybody. It just does its job.'
Considering this Casio costs 12 TIMES less than Bellini's Seiko Dolce, you might think this is a humble watch.
But it's not even that. It's an 'I exist' watch.
Additional note: Some people have said Benitez is wearing a Casio F-105, but my friend disagrees. Benitez’s watch face is too large (sorry for the typo) SMALL to be the F-105. Regardless, both the Casio models tell us the same thing about Benitez's character.
Additional note 2: Casio f-91w is apparently considered a god-tier watch, which is above luxury watches. It's earned that ranking because:
It's battery lasts for 10 years
It keeps time accurately
It has alarm & date function (both 12h or 24h)
It has a backlight
Water resistance for up to 30m
It can stand a tough beating.
It's versatile. You can wear it with a suit or overalls. Anything.
It's cheap, i.e. easily accessible. Just like God.
It has an annual sales of 3 mil units per year, making it the most sold watch in the world.
Side note: The current Pope (Francis) wears a Casio MQ-24-7bldf, which has similar connotations as Benitez's. The only difference being that Pope Francis's Casio is analogue while Benitez's watch is digital, showing the role age plays in preference. Both watches are hella cheap, but Benitez's watch is a tad more expensive by virtue of being digital and having more features like an alarm and backlight function, which better fits his situation in Kabul.
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rebloggingrexan · 12 hours ago
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this scene was one the franchise creator had wanted to write all his career
Things that I SWEAR I'm not making up about the Star Trek franchise:
A shifty alien bartender, his brother, and his nephew were what happened at Roswell
There are three mutually contradictory canonical explanations for what exists at the centre of the Galaxy, none of which are "A fuck-off gigantic black hole"
Two of these things are, respectively, God and the Devil
(The crew got along well enough with the Devil, but Spock had to blow-up God with a torpedo)
One of the most compelling and sympathetic characters in the franchise is a hologram of Professor Moriarty who gained enough self-awareness to realise that he didn't need to be evil just because he was written that way
If you fly too fast, you turn into a salamander
(Said salamanders are actually the inevitable endpoint of human evolution)
The universe is balanced on the back of a giant koala (why is it smiling? What does it know!?)
There have been three separate groups of Space Nazis (not just aliens with a fascist government; literal Nazis with armbands and swastikas)
There are also: two (2) cowboy planets, two (2) planets that are just post-apocalyptic versions of Cold War-era Earth, one (1) planet ruled by Chicago mobsters from the 1920s, and one (1) version of Earth where the Roman Empire never fell
The Roman planet has its own Jesus
There is an anthropological law governing parallel planetary development that holds that planets are likely to recapitulate eras from Earth history
Because of the intervention of an ancient race of ur-humanoids, most sentient races in the galaxy look like human actors with rubber prostheses glued to their foreheads
There are so many planets centred around sex and hedonism that people in the fandom use the term "Roddenberry Sex Planet" to describe them
Jack the Ripper was an alien ghost
Amelia Earhart was abducted by aliens
If you have a high ESP score, you turn into a god when you try to fly outside of the Galaxy
The major antagonists are: Space Vikings/Samurai, Space Romans (not the Romans mentioned earlier), Space Fascists (not any of the nazi groups mentioned earlier), the Space British Empire (ruled by goo people), and Space Bees (except you'll turn into one if they sting you)
Klingons have two dicks
Borg assimilation can be catalyzed by eating car batteries
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osarina · 2 days ago
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ᡣ𐭩 MAYBE I JUST WANNA BE YOURS
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: dazai does not get jealous. he especially doesn't get jealous over someone he's not even dating. because he's not dating you. he doesn't want to date you... right?
(wordcount: 5k; fem!reader, nsfw, lots of smut LOL idk what got into me this is the first fic ive written with more smut than plot in ages. but anyway: jealous!dazai, fingering, oral (f->m), semi-public/public sex. whiplash from dazai's thoughts (as always). unedited.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: hihi. SO this actually wasn't going to be connected to anything, but i decided like mid-fic that i wanted to make it a continuation to the adareader universe ive been considering building. i was too lazy to go check for inconsistencies, so if there's any dihfausihdfsudf just ignore them LOL. when i eventually make the masterlist for it and officially connect them all, ill go thru and double check for them. first i need to write them something with actual substance and not just horny posting LOLLLL.
Dazai is not a jealous man.
He’s not.
In fact, he’s the most un-jealous person in the whole world. He has no reason to be jealous, especially over you. He’s not dating you. Dazai never asked you to be his girlfriend, and that was intentional because Dazai doesn’t want a girlfriend. More specifically, he doesn’t want to be someone’s boyfriend. You’re just a friend—a friend that he sometimes fucks and occasionally seeks out to spend time with. He doesn’t want someone relying on him in a way a girlfriend would, and he certainly doesn’t want to rely on someone in the way a boyfriend would, because he doesn’t want the rug pulled out from under him when it inevitably goes to shit. 
The thought is suffocating, it makes his skin crawl.
Almost as much as the realization that the cop the two of you are assigned to be coordinating with is clearly head over heels enamored by you. Dazai scowls from where he’s standing a few steps behind you, watching as you go over the details of the file that the man brought to you—Dazai didn’t care to learn his name. And yes, Dazai means you because when the officer came over with the file, he didn’t even acknowledge Dazai’s existence and walked right over to you.
He still hasn’t acknowledged Dazai’s presence, staring at you with an adoring expression as you read through the file. Dazai thinks if this were some sort of cartoon, the officer would quite literally have hearts in his eyes—it’s disgusting, Dazai can hardly stand to watch it.
“Dazai,” you finally say, voice a soft hum. He likes the way you say his name—it rolls off your tongue prettily, and it makes his chest oddly warm. He’s not used to people saying his name with such softness; he’s used to anger, irritation, fear, but never this. He’s wondered how his given name would sound, he’s spent many nights imagining it, one hand pressed to his mouth and the other wrapped around his cock, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask you to call him by it. That’s a step too close to actual intimacy and he’s not willing to take it.
You raise your eyebrows at him, and Dazai realizes you must have said something after you said his name, but he didn’t catch it because he was too absorbed in the way you said his name to notice.
“Come here,” you say again, nodding your head for him to drag himself out of the corner he’s sulking in to come to you. He feels a bit too gleeful watching the way the officer’s expression shifts in surprise as he turns to look at Dazai, finally noticing him.
Dazai pushes himself off of the wall to take a few steps closer to you, and he may or may not stand a bit too close on purpose just to see the other man frown. He stands behind you, chest brushing your back as he looks over your shoulder to scan through the file you’ve been reading. It takes him twice as long as it usually does because he didn’t realize that being in such close proximity to you would make him as dizzy as it did, and he’s too stubborn to back off now. 
Your hair smells like vanilla, and Dazai can smell the faint scent of your favorite perfume dabbed on your neck, worn off throughout the long day. His attention strays from the file to you, tracing the smooth curve of your neck, dipping down to your collarbone and swallowing when he realizes that the top three buttons of your dress shirt are undone, the stuffiness of the tiny room and the lack of air conditioning causing small, visible beads of sweat to form on your skin. His breath catches as his gaze lowers just a bit more and-
You turn to look at him and his gaze snaps up before it can drop to dangerous territories, and Dazai catches the amused look in your eyes—you know exactly what he was looking at. Instead of having some shame, because Dazai has no shame, he shifts just an inch closer to you, one of his hands resting on your hip. He watches the way your lashes flutter the same way they always do when you’re trying to pretend you’re not affected by his touch, and his lips curl up into a small smirk.
“What do you think?” you ask after a second. 
To your credit, your voice isn’t as strained as he expected, so Dazai ups it a notch, fingers sliding from where they’re caressing your hip to trail across your inner thigh. All out of sight from the officer on your left, but Dazai can tell he’s aware that something is going on from the way his enamored expression starts shifting into a more awkward one.
Dazai gives him a smug, sardonic smile before saying, “I think our friend over here should go get us the CCTV tapes—that’ll be much more useful to us then a bunch of reports.”
The other man’s face shifts in confusion, brows furrowing and lips curving down, but before he can say no, you speak up and agree, “That would be great.”
Dazai rolls his eyes when it makes the man straighten and nod, “I’ll get it right away.”
Before he steps out of the room, Dazai tosses another look over his shoulder, this one colder than it is smug, and he says maybe a bit too snidely, “Don’t come back until you have them.”
The officer doesn’t reply as he leaves the room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, Dazai is pulling away from you to walk over to it. He locks it quickly and then turns to face you, tilting his head to the side as his gaze roves over your body. You’re leaning back against the table, eyebrows raised, and Dazai doesn’t stop himself this time when his gaze lowers to the swell of your breasts just barely made visible by your partially unbuttoned shirt.
“C’mere,” he murmurs, motioning for you to come over to him.
You don’t budge. Instead, you raise your eyebrows and say dryly, “There are cameras in here, Dazai.”
He pointedly looks up to the two corners of the room that they’re in and then back down to where he’s standing, silently telling you that this is a blind spot. After a moment’s hesitation, you push yourself off the table and make your way over to him. Dazai tilts his head back against the wall, looking down at you through his lashes as you come to stand directly in front of him. He pretends that his throat doesn’t bob when he feels your fingers slip into his belt loops.
“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, but your eyes are glittering so he knows you know exactly what the problem is—and to think he thought you weren’t cruel, you might just be the worst type of cruel there is, hiding it behind pretty smiles and sweet words. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous because that cop has a crush.”
“I don’t get jealous,” Dazai replies with a simpering smile, lifting one hand to cradle your cheek, breath catching as your eyes flutter shut, pressing your face into his hand. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”
Dazai thinks that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen—he’s thought it since the day he met you, but he thinks it especially now when you’re leaning into his touch like it isn’t poisonous, like his hands aren’t stained with blood and his soul isn’t black and rotten. You deserve better than him, and that’s another reason why he refuses to take that next step: he knows one day you’ll realize it too. You’ll realize that you’ve fallen for a mask, that the man you care about doesn’t actually exist, it’s a thing that can barely call itself human pretending to be him.
He wonders if you know. He wonders if you know that something is wrong with him—he thinks that you must have some inkling after the bout of paranoia he had a few weeks ago when he was at your apartment, but he doubts you know the extent of it. He doubts you know that thoughts running through his head whenever that officer looked at you were anything but just casual jealousy; that every time he leaned in closer to you, Dazai’s fingers twitched in the direction of the gun given to him by the Agency that he’s only supposed to use in emergencies. 
Old habits die hard, Dazai has always been quite trigger happy. They never should’ve put a gun in his general vicinity.
 He leans down to ghost his lips below your ear, savoring in the way he feels you take in a sharp breath. His fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls your head back just enough to kiss the spot beneath your jaw that makes you writhe, and just as he expects, you let out a breathy moan against his ear that makes his head dizzy, your hands darting up to cling at the sleeves of his jacket.
“Dazai,” you gasp as he kisses down your neck. He hums in response, his free hand resting on your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Are you sure…”
“I’m sure,” he says, and then adds smugly, “When am I ever wrong?”
He doesn’t have to see your face to know that you’re probably rolling your eyes at him, but he doesn’t give you the chance to make a witty remark about the first time the two of you met. His grip tightens on your waist as he flips you around so that your back is to his chest.
His hands immediately work to unbutton your slacks, lips finding their way back to your neck to pepper kisses up and down your skin as he watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest. He lets out a low groan against your skin when he slides his hand into your pants and feels just how damp your panties are.
“This better be for me,” he mutters more to himself than to you, nipping at the skin of your neck. His voice is a bit more rough now as he asks you, “Lace?”
He lifts his face from your neck to look at you. Your eyes are half lidded as the pads of his fingers trace the cloth of your panties, head lolled back against his shoulder, breath ragged and lips parted, but there’s something teasing in your gaze as it flickers up to meet his.
“The ones you like,” you breathe out, and Dazai swallows thickly. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come over after this.” 
“Shit,” he whispers, putting pressure right over where your clit is hidden, watching the way your thighs tremble. “Look at you, only I make you feel this good, yeah?”
“Don’t tease.” The whine that clings to your words makes Dazai’s head spin. He can already feel his cock straining against his pants and tries to ease some of the friction by pressing you back into him, rolling his hips against your ass. “Dazai-”
“Shhhh,” Dazai soothes with a grin, kissing up your neck to your ear when he hears the distress in your tone. “I’ve got you.” 
With practiced ease, he slides his fingers beneath your panties, middle finger dipping between your folds. He inhales sharply, immediately losing his grin when he feels how wet you are.
“This better be for me,” he repeats, a bit more seriously this time as he slides his finger between your folds, putting pressure on your entrance but not quite pushing in. “Hm?”
He waits for a response, relishing in the way your whole body trembles against him. He doesn’t even know if you know what he asked, you already seem so fucked out—lips wet and parted as you breathe in and out shakily, lashes fluttering and chest heaving.
“Tell me,” he presses, his free hand sliding up your body, untucking your shirt so he can slip his hand beneath it to feel your skin.
“‘course it’s for you, Dazai,” you say after a few seconds of confusion, like you were trying to remember what he asked. “What kind of question is that?” 
Dazai doesn’t respond to that, letting out a pleased hum as he kisses your jaw again. He also doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, quickly plunging his middle finger deep inside of you. The sudden intrusion has your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the cry that escapes your lips—he almost wants to pull your hand away, but decides against it because he doesn’t want anyone else hearing you like this.
You try to rock your hips to get him moving, but Dazai’s hand flattens against your stomach, holding you still against him.
“Dazai-” you gasp his name again, this time your voice is more pitched, caught between a whine and a complaint.
“Patience,” he coos, but his voice is strained and his breath is heavier as your tight walls hug his finger, imagining that it’s his cock instead. He drags his finger out until only the tip remains inside of you. He teases your entrance again, tracing a gentle circle but not pushing back in. “Bet you could already take two fingers for me, yeah?”
“What if he comes back?” you suddenly ask panic flying through your eyes as if you’ve only just remembered where you are. Dazai is distinctly displeased by the thought of another man crossing your mind while his fingers are inside of you. “Dazai, what if-”
“He won’t,” Dazai answers you, making his displeasure known as he nips your neck. 
“How do you-”
“The corner that the disappearance took place on—it’s a blind spot for the CCTV cameras,” he answers before you can finish. Dazai knows this because he killed a target in that exact same spot two and a half years ago. “He’ll be gone for a while. He won’t want to come back empty handed to you.” 
Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to question him anymore, sliding his middle and ring fingers inside of you and watching as your jaw falls slack. To make up for the displeasure he felt at you bringing up that irritating cop, he fucks you hard with his fingers—you barely have time to bite the palm of your hand before his fingers are stretching your walls.
He thinks he might be pushing his luck—he doesn’t know if the cameras in the corners of the room pick up sound, and if they do, he doesn’t know how well they pick it up. Even if you’re doing your very best at muffling your moans, there’s no hiding the sloppy sound of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt—it’s wet and filthy, and it has Dazai’s head dizzy. 
His eyes drag up from where his fingers are plunging in and out of you back up to your face. Your pretty eyes are almost fully rolled back as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge and your lashes are wet. One particularly rough snap of his wrist has your hand falling limp from your mouth to your side and your lips parting in a moan that Dazai doesn’t dare allow anyone else to hear. Quickly, his free hand darts up to grab your jaw hard, turning your face toward him so he can press his lips to yours messily, swallowing the keening moan before you can let it out. 
He kisses you deeply, tongue tracing the inside of your mouth gently in contrast to the rapid thrusts of his fingers. You try to kiss him back, but you can hardly even breathe with how deep his fingers fuck into you. He knows you're close—he can feel it in the way your whole body is trembling, and how your pussy flutters around his fingers, so he picks up the pace, just as desperate to bring you over the edge as you are to get there.
He’s the only one that can make you feel like this. He’s the only one that can make your body shudder and writhe, he’s the only one that can make your eyes roll back in pleasure, he’s the only one and he needs to prove it.
“C’mon, baby,” he pleads against your lips. The pet name that spills from his lips is not the teasing bella he likes to hit you with like he intended—it comes out strained, breathy, just as desperate as he feels. The lack of control scares him a bit, but he’s too out of it for it to take hold. “C’mon, once on my fingers, then as many times as you want on my cock when we get home, alright?”
He doesn’t know what you’re trying to say, the noise that spills from your lips, muffled against his mouth, is a moan, caught between his name and a please and something else he can’t make out. Distantly, he thinks that the bandages on his forearm must be ruined, he can feel your slickness dripping down his hand to his wrist and he can hear the lewd sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of you. He doesn’t care—in fact, the thought only makes his lower abdomen tighter. 
“I’m gonna-” you gasp, the only word she can make out and Dazai grins.
“Yeah, you are,” he rasps, scissoring his fingers inside of you and rubbing his index finger over your clit, and you’re gone. 
Dazai groans when he feels you moan his name against his lips, hand dropping from your face to your waist to hold you upright as your knees buckle. You cum hard on his fingers, hips stuttering and stilling, and he can feel tears spilling over your cheeks. His cock is painfully hard now and he wants nothing more than to unbuckle his pants and replace his fingers with it, but he thinks that would be pushing his luck—he’s never had any semblance of control once his cock is inside you and he needs to keep an ear out for footsteps approaching the conference room. 
He rides out your high, pace slowing as he continues to fuck his fingers into your sensitive cunt, wiping your tears with his free hand once you’ve steadied yourself. You tremble, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, and Dazai only removes his fingers when you claw at his wrist for him to stop.
His fingers are dripping with your cum, and though Dazai is aching for a taste himself, he instead lifts them to your lips. You’re still trying to get ahold of yourself, leaning back against his chest and breathing heavily, but you instinctually part your lips for him. His breath catches when you take both of his fingers into your mouth, lashes fluttering shut and tongue swirling around his digits as you taste yourself off of him.
“Fuck,” he groans, hand dropping down to rub the heel of his hand against his cock, desperately trying to alleviate the pressure. He has no idea how he’s going to hide this before the officer gets back and…
His thoughts trail off when you finally push off of him, your legs are still trembling, and your eyes are still a little hazy, but your gaze drops from his face to his rapidly rising and falling chest down to where he’s rubbing his cock through his pants. And then, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him.
“Oh, fuck,” he repeats, voice breathy this time and pupils blown wide as he watches your fingers work at the buckle of his belt.
Dazai almost wishes that the officer would come back soon, just so he could walk in on you with a faceful of Dazai’s cock. But if that happens, all of Ango’s work will go out the window because there’s no way he’s letting someone see you like this and walk out alive. 
Dazai’s cock twitches as soon as you free it from its confines. He’s already leaking an embarrassing amount of precum, and his tip is flushed red, but you waste no time before ghosting your lips across his length, suckling gently at the vein running along the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around his tip.
Dazai chews at his lower lip, thighs tensing as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat. Instead, his throat spasms as he swallows, reaching out to cradle the back of your head gently, carding his fingers through your hair soothingly.
“Lookit you,” he breathes out, voice wavering as he swallows another low groan. His fingers tighten in your hair just a bit, but he doesn’t push your face down on his cock, head falling back against the door as you work his cock further down your throat. His breath is ragged and heavy as your tight muscles spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to the intrusion, and he can feel your nails digging into the bandages wrapped around his hips. “That’s my girl.”
Another loss of control that should probably concern him, but you’re quick to take his mind off of it with the way he can feel you let out a whine around him, nails digging a little bit deeper into skin as you take him fully into your mouth, lips flush to his pelvis and nose buried in his pubic hair.
His head falls forward as he pants, watching your throat struggle to adjust to him. He strokes your hair gently, silently beckoning you to look up at him because he worries that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll let out a pornographic moan, one that will be impossible to deny if anyone over hears.
Your lashes flutter as you look up at him, eyes wide and glassy with fat tears that roll steadily over your cheeks. 
Beautiful, he thinks hazily, and his—all his. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to imagine you like this—you’re his. 
He chokes over air, free hand coming up to cover his mouth and hips jerking forward. He feels you gag around him and his hand drops to caress your cheek in apology, trying to wipe away your tears, but it’s clumsy and frantic—the sight of you on your knees for him, tears streaming down you face as you take him down your throat, is enough to send him spiraling over the edge.
His vision spots with black dots, the taut cord in his abdomen tightens and then snaps. He’s hardly able to muffle the moan that spills from his lips as his eyes knock back and his head falls against the metal of the door. His whole body tenses and spasms as he cums down your throat, he gasps for air, thumb still stroking your cheek as you struggle to swallow all of his cum.
It takes a minute for Dazai to regain some semblance of control over himself. By the time he has, you’re standing on shaky legs and tucking his sensitive cock back into his pants. His hazy gaze focuses on your face—your lips are wet and swollen, your eyes are still glassy, and this time Dazai doesn’t have an excuse as he lifts his hands to cradle your face and says quietly, “Mine.”
Your smile is teasing. “‘I don’t get jealous,’” you mock lightly, leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as his hand slinks around your body to your back, pulling your body flush to his as he deepens the kiss, sinking into the familiar feeling of your lips sliding against his. 
“I don’t have reason to be jealous,” Dazai murmurs, this time with a different meaning. He pulls back slightly so he can button your pants back up and tuck your dress shirt back into them, making sure you look presentable before the officer gets back.
Instead of teasing him again, your smile softens and you affirm, “You don’t,” and Dazai’s throat tightens. 
The thought of being in an actual relationship has always been suffocating to Dazai. Imagining having to spend the rest of his life with one person, having someone rely on him when his will to live is fickle at best and nonexistent at worst, becoming dependent on someone who could leave him on a moment’s notice… It makes his stomach churn with disgust, his chest tight with anxiety.
But when that faceless someone turns into you, Dazai realizes that the thought of a relationship is not quite as unappealing as it’s always been to him. Does it still make him skittish? Sure, but does it outweigh the green hue that colors his vision whenever someone looks at you and thinks you’re not his? Does it outweigh the bolt of fear he feels whenever he sees someone display interest in you, wondering if maybe you’ll get sick of his flighty behavior and give them a chance?
Absolutely not.
Dazai hears footsteps approaching the door he’s leaning on, and quickly unlocks it, motioning for you to stand back by the conference table. When the officer opens the door, the two of you are standing there casually like you never moved.
The officer gives you an apologetic smile that makes Dazai’s eyes twitch. “It doesn’t seem like there’s any CCTV footage from the area.”
Before you can respond, Dazai smiles tightly and says, “Wow, and it took almost twenty minutes for you to realize that—no wonder the police keep coming to us for help.”
You elbow Dazai, but he’s unrepentant, giving you a sweet smile before turning a cooler one back onto the officer. “If you don’t mind, we can finish the rest back at our office tomorrow now that we have the files. We have a date to get to.”
He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re raising your eyebrows at him, but he keeps his gaze trained on the officer, finding sick satisfaction in the way the man’s eyes dart between the two of you, a dawning expression crossing his face.
“A… date?” 
“A date,” Dazai confirms, picking up the file and motioning for you to leave. He pointedly ignores the amused expression on your face as you make your way out of the room, walking past the officer who dumbly steps out of the way. “Thanks for the help… or, well, lack thereof.”
It’s only when the door slams shut behind the two of you, do you finally echo, “… A date?”
Hesitantly, Dazai confirms, “A date?”
When you don’t immediately respond, Dazai’s smile starts to freeze, considering that maybe you don’t want to date him and he read all of this wrong. You want to keep things casual, no strings attached. But after a few agonizing moments, you hook your arm around his and lean into him.
“Where are you taking me then, hm?”
“… It’s a surprise,” he replied.
A surprise for both of you, because Dazai hasn’t thought that far ahead yet. 
A tenseness that he hadn’t even realized was in his shoulders dissipates when you laugh and press your lips to his upper arm before resting your head against it. 
“Alright,” you agree, although he’s pretty sure you know damn well this is all spur of the moment. “Let’s go then.”
Though Dazai tries to rifle through all of the options of places you like to go, when the two of you step outside, all coherent thought washes right out of the window when you turn to look up at him, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow over your face.
“What is it?” you ask when he freezes in his tracks to admire you. “Dazai?”
For just a split second, Dazai can imagine it. He can imagine a life with you, and there’s no sign of any of the suffocation or discomfort he usually feels when he thinks of long term commitment too hard. He imagines waking up to you in the morning and falling asleep to you at night, he imagines spending his days laid up in bed with you sharing kisses and sweet nothings and he imagines dragging you around the city to show you off to anyone and everyone. His thoughts start to spiral out of control, and he’s glancing down at your ring finger, wondering-
“Dazai?”
Dazai’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt, and he swallows thickly when a more realistic image comes to mind—the expression on your face when you find out about his past, the disgust, the fear, the realization that he’s just not who he made himself out to be, that he’s been lying to you since day one.
“Nothing,” he says after a moment, voice a little raspy, so he shakes his head, giving you a disarming smile and clearing his throat. “You’re just so stunning that it leaves me at a loss for words, sweet bella.”
You don’t seem to buy it, but you don’t press, arm tightening around his as you make your way back over to your car.
As soon as you look away, his expression shifts into a more downcast one as his gaze tracks back over to you. It’s only a matter of time, he remembers. His past will catch up with him sooner rather than later, and no matter what you may insist about the past being in the past, he knows everything will change when you finally realize what all he’s been hiding from you.
… but maybe there’s not too much harm in indulging while he still can. He just has to keep reminding himself that he can’t get too attached.
“You should let me drive,” Dazai says sweetly. “So I can drive us to the place and keep it a surprise for you.”
You laugh in his face. “As if.”
You usher him over to the passenger seat before making your way back over to the driver’s side, and Dazai finds a genuine smile unconsciously curling at the corners of his lips. One that quickly falls when his fingers wrap around the handle of the car door.
He thinks, maybe, it might be far too late to stop himself from getting attached.
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How To Court A Dragon
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Warnings: MDNI, sex, monster fucking, DVP, explicit genitalia descriptions, double pp, size kink, mentions of breeding Summary: You unintentionally became his mate. Of course, you have some questions. A/n: Hey ya'll! I used to be called nanamiscocksleeve! Here it is! Now...I hope this isn't something people will shy away from because it took me a lot of effort to write this, not to mention all the weird questions I asked Google about reptilian mating parts (there's a sentence I never thought I'd write!). Also, the things about the pp...I was imagining this scene from The Shape of Water 🤭🤭🤭. Enjoy my fellow monster lovers!
“Sylus?” You glance over at the large, intimidating dragon occupying about half the space on the large fur rug you’re both lying on. The dragon, idly fiddling with a gilded coin, glances at you with a bored look in his ruby eyes.
“Yes, kitten?” he asks in his usual growl as he flicks the coin away onto a pile of gold. 
“We’ve known each other for quite some time.”
Sylus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose we have.”
“I was wondering…if I could ask some questions.”
“Questions?” Sylus looks at you with mild curiosity. “Hmm, let me consult my schedule... ah yes, I have a free moment between ‘hoarding treasure’ and ‘menacing villagers.’ Make it quick." He flashes you a sarcastic grin and you roll your eyes.
“Can you ever just speak normally? Wait that’s not my question!” You add hastily as Sylus’s eyes flash in amusement, clearly about to reply and further annoy you by not answering what you really had in mind. 
A deep, rumbling chuckle emanates from Sylus’s throat. “Go ahead, sweetie.”
You fiddle with the rug, wondering how to phrase your question. You had been living with, if it could be called that, a dragon for a reasonable amount of time now. Between the cave and Tarus City, there wasn’t a glimpse of another human for miles, and now, he was the closest thing to companionship that you had. 
Initially, you were worried he wasn’t interested in you beyond consuming you as a meal but as time progressed, the two of you had struck a balanced relationship. Now whenever you and Sylus ventured out into Tarus City, the inhabitants had begun to refer to you as the dragon’s mate. The thought had initially made you blush because ‘mate’ referred to something more carnal and intimate than whatever you two were. However, Sylus had made no effort to correct them, and now you had unwittingly accepted the title, and it had become part of your identity. 
There was a cavern within the long and winding cave filled with books from faraway lands and one day when you had nothing else to do, you’d come across a book entitled “The Courtship of Dragons”. It was obviously written from a human point of view but you’d read things that had left you with many questions; most of it seemed to be a work of fantasy like the author had made up some parts just to keep the reader’s attention. You’d turned these thoughts over and over in your head until you decided enough was enough and that you needed to get the answers straight from the dragon’s mouth. 
“I read something about…dragon mating. And I’m a little confused by it.” You venture out the topic hesitantly, looking at him for a reaction. Sylus’s face remains impassive as he regards you.  
“Dragon mating?” he chuckles as you avert your eyes back onto the rug, plucking at the fur as you do so. “Whatever did you read? Tell me. I’m quite curious to know.”
You clear your throat before continuing. “Well, the author said dragons have an innate sense about recognizing their mates and that they don’t…nest with other dragons. Is that true?”
Sylus rolls over onto his side contemplating. “Yes, that’s true. Dragons do mate for life. Once they find the one, they become their own unit. They make their own lair, and no other dragon is allowed to enter it. We get highly territorial if this is violated.” 
“I see.” You twiddle your thumbs together. “And…what if…your real mate is out there somewhere? Wouldn’t my presence be a downside?”
“My real mate?” Sylus asks in a vexing tone. “I’m not sure I follow.”
You look at him in disbelief before hedging on. “You know, your real mate. The dragon you’re supposed to be with.”
“You keep forgetting I’m only half dragon. Chances of my mate being completely dragon aren’t high.”
You click your tongue impatiently. “Fine, the other half-dragon or whatever. Isn’t she still out there? If she turns up in your life one day, then doesn’t that mean…” Your voice trails as you consider the implications. 
“Yes?” Sylus prompts you. 
“Well we’d have to shake hands and part ways right?” You rest your cheek on your palm, bearing your weight on your elbow as you turn to look at him. “I wouldn’t be allowed here anymore since you have a mate.”
“What makes you think my mate would be a dragon hybrid?”
The question exasperates you. “Aren’t you the one who said your mate wouldn’t be completely dragon?”
“I did. But you seem to be forgetting another possibility.”
“What? Is there a percentage of dragon she has to be for this to work?” 
Sylus lets out a booming laugh, the noise echoing richly off the walls of his cave. You look at him confoundedly, unable to fathom what made him laugh like this. 
“There’s no need to mock me.” You huff irritably as you watch his abdomen quiver from his mirth. “I’m just trying to familiarize myself with dragon etiquette.”
Sylus quiets down at your tone before he reaches out a clawed hand and flicks your forehead. “Can you really not think of another possibility?”
“No.” You curtly bite out the word. “And I don't appreciate being teased.”
The dragon shakes his head, a wide grin forming on his chiseled face. 
“You seem oblivious to the possibility that she could also be human.” The tone with which he says the words render you momentarily speechless. You hadn’t in fact, considered that as a possibility at all. How could a normal human become a mate to a dragon?
Almost as if Sylus had sensed your curiosity, he explains. “I didn’t make the rules, sweetie. Dragon hybrids are known to find human mates more often than not. Perhaps with the hope that their offspring have a chance to become completely human.” 
Fascinated with this bit of information, you turn it over in your head. “Aren’t you interested in finding her?”
“Finding her?” Sylus chuckles. “Why would I put in that effort when she’s been with me this whole time?” He raises an eyebrow at you as you process his words, then falter as the meaning finally washes over you. 
“Me?!” You sputter as Sylus watches amusedly, his tail swishing across the rug. “Just because the villagers of Tarus City think I’m your mate doesn’t make it true!”
“Indeed, it doesn’t,” Sylus agrees almost maddeningly. “What makes it true is the mark I left on your neck.” 
Your breath hitches and the moment seems to stand still, stuck in time like a black-and-white photograph. Instinctively, your fingers reach for the bite mark Sylus had left on the crook of your neck when he’d first met you. “What about it?” you ask defensively. 
Enjoying the flustered look on your face, the dragon calmly explains. “The mark would have faded by now if you weren’t fated for me. Mate marks last forever, no matter when they’re given.” He smirks, revealing his sharp teeth. 
“Why didn’t you say anything?!” You burst out, overwhelmed by this reveal. “ I’ve been sitting here day after day thinking at some point you’ll find your true mate and I’d have to think about how to fend for myself!”
“I’m sorry, but I’m confused about which of these is more distressing to you. The idea of moving out, or realizing you’re my mate?” Sylus asks the question with a lilt and you resist the urge to punch him, knowing you’d injure yourself against those scales.
“Both,” you say swiftly, then turn away from him. You’re taken aback as his tail suddenly wraps around your waist and pulls you against him. His chest is warm against your back and his breath tickles your neck as you squirm in his grasp. 
“Where do you think you’re going my little one?” Sylus purrs in your ears. Determined not to let him get a rise out of you, you sulk, ceasing all movements even as your heart pounds in your chest. His chin brushes against the top of your head like a territorial cat. “What? All bark and no bite?” A soft laugh emanates from him as he continues to hold your body against his and you realize…
“Are you snuggling me?” You resist the urge to look over your shoulder and Sylus presses a kiss to it in response.
“Yes. Snuggling between a dragon and their mate isn’t uncommon. Was that not in your readings?” He teases as he continues nuzzling into your warm skin which was steadily heating up under his attention. 
“But when did we become mates?” You rack your brains, trying to think amidst the fluffy fog now filling your brain as Sylus continues to show his affection. 
“It’s not something you become. It’s something you are. Do you ask the water why it flows, or why the sun is bright?” Sylus’s tail wraps further around you, the smooth scales feeling comfortably warm against your skin. “You just are. I knew it. The inhabitants of Tarus City knew it.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me.” You quip sarcastically as his nose buries itself into your hair, smelling the sweet scent of the soap you’d used earlier in the day. 
“Would you have believed me?” His inhalations were sending tingles across your scalp and you tried not to melt into his embrace which was surprisingly warm and secure. 
“I-I suppose not,” you admit begrudgingly before your eyes flutter closed. Sylus continues his tender handling, and with a sigh, you finally give in, rolling to face him and letting him embrace you against his chest. He doesn’t say anything but cups the back of your head, claws gently scratching through your scalp and you drowsily let him caress the silky locks. 
Noticing your unwillingness starting to fade, Sylus murmurs, “Does the prospect of being my mate seem less daunting now?” 
His tail wraps around the backs of your thighs and you glance up at him, blushing when you see him gazing back at you intently. Those brilliant ruby eyes, akin to those in his treasury, had an intensity you couldn’t place. It was almost like they could pierce into your very soul and see all of you bare. The thought made you feel exposed and you blink, trying to gather your thoughts. The sharp, dagger-like tip of his tail now rested on your hip, and you hesitantly began to finger it, unsure what to say.
“Not less daunting,” you start, observing how his tail flicks gently in response to your touch, the sharp, hooked scales at the very end softening and flattening against your palm. “Not in the least. You are ancient, powerful, eternal. People fear you even as they look at you in awe. A dragon is timeless, and as a human, I’m like a fleeting ember, a mere second in your life. I might have a thirst for revenge on those who wronged me, but I am an ordinary human. I don’t understand why you believe I would be a suitable mate.” 
 You steal another look at him and see that his pupils are starting to dilate, the dark center of them consuming the red. Sylus lets out a noise of frustration, seemingly ready to give up trying to convince you, but to your surprise, he takes a deep breath of fortifying patience, then grasps your chin with his fingers, ensuring you can see his face. 
“I’m going to give you one, final, absolute, piece of proof. And if you still don’t believe it, then I will eat you so that I don’t have to listen to your maddening doubts anymore.” His tone implies he’s being humorous, but you cautiously watch him, fully aware that you have no defenses against those teeth and claws. You nod, his fingers dipping with the movement. 
“You and I share half of each other’s soul. A typical human vessel wouldn’t be capable of such a thing. Not unless you are fated.” He lets go of your face and brings your ear to his chest. His heartbeat was a steady thud-thud-thud, and yet…it felt like a call. Like something was there inviting you to come home, even though you didn’t know where it was, and suddenly, you feel your own heartbeat start to resonate with his, automatically following his rhythm, inexplicable, deep, primal. He waits and you realize what he’s been trying to say all along. There was no reasoning behind mates. You just knew.
You swallow, feeling like you’d been doused with a bucket of cold water, then place your hand over his heart, feeling a little thrill as he covers it with his. A shaky breath forces its way out of you as you lean your forehead against him, a sense of enlightenment washing over you. 
“Understand now?” Sylus asks almost imploringly and your heart clenches at the tone. 
“Yes.” You gather courage and look him in the eyes. “I do.” Then in a much softer tone, you add, “I’m sorry.”
At your apology, Sylus gathers you in his arms, his embrace almost suffocating as he holds you. Your hands wrap around his back, feeling the points in his skin where the wings sprouted from his body. It felt strangely intimate to touch something like this, and you couldn’t help but run your fingers along the ridges, fascinated by the texture. Sylus’s breath catches in his throat and he loosens his grip, easing you back onto the rug. 
With confidence, you raise a hand to cup his face, your chest swelling with joy as he turns into your touch, his lips grazing your palm. You’d never seen him so vulnerable and defenseless, the fact that he was baring a secretive part of himself to you humbling. You don’t stop him as he lays over you, nuzzling your neck and letting out a series of low growls that sound strangely affectionate. 
You giggle, and he pauses, looking at you with keen interest. “Something amusing you, my love?”
“You’re like a cat,” you tease, then pet the hair between his horns. Even as his expression changes to being miffed, his eyelids become half closed. 
“I am most certainly not a cat.” He sounds affronted but makes no move to stop your petting, and more low growls escape his throat. You can’t control your mirth and the giggles now bubble out of you uncontrollably. 
“Then how come you’re purring?” You stop petting his hair and cup his face with both hands, a wide smile forming on your face as Sylus opens his eyes, which are hazy and languid. 
"That... that isn't purring," The dragon hybrid says with a slight huff. "That was a growl, and you know it."
“Or is that just how dragons purr?” You playfully run your fingers behind his ears, massaging the lobes and then back into his scalp at the base of both horns. 
Sylus tries to keep up his facade of stubbornness, but the gentle massages make him shiver with pleasure. "No, that's a growl. Purring sounds like..." He attempts to imitate a cat's purring, but it came out more like a deep rumbling that vibrated throughout his chest.
You snicker, and then an uncontrollable fit of laughter seizes you, the kind that makes your shoulders and chest shake. Here was this mythical creature, feared and worshipped, yet somehow, trying to imitate a cat despite insisting he was not behaving like one. You brush away a tear from your eye, then look at Sylus who’s sulking, his cheeks turning an adorable shade of crimson. Was this the same dragon that you had worried about being a mate to?
"You-you're insufferable, you know that?" He grumbled, even as he nuzzled his face against your neck; he couldn’t seem to help himself. You reassuringly pat his back. 
“If this is how dragons treat their mate, then I’m no longer worried.” 
“Is that so?” Sylus retreats so that he can gaze down at you. You can see how his expression is softening, betraying the depth of his fondness for you. 
“Yeah. I’m starting to come around.”
“Good. I’m glad I was able to change your mind.” Sylus takes your hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing your knuckles and causing your heart to flip-flop inside your chest. Your free hand idly strokes his back, still engrossed with the different textures of his skin where the wings began. 
“You seem to have a lot of thoughts about my wings,” Sylus observes as you fondle the leathery base.
“How big are they?” You ask curiously, then gasp as Sylus suddenly pins you under him, then with a rustling noise, his wings fully extend for your viewing pleasure. You look at them, enthralled by the contrasting marbled red and black membranes, little spikes lining the upper ridges. 
“About ten feet each,” Sylus says gruffly with a hint of pride. “Pure dragons are much bigger though.”
You reach out a finger, watching for signs of resistance and when he doesn’t show any, gently trace the membranes, observing how the sunlight illuminated through them like a backdrop. 
Sylus hums at your exploration, his wings twitching slightly before he lies flush against you, putting them in easier reach of your wandering fingers. He resumes that low growling as you do so, and as you watch him close his eyes, another question forms in your head.
“Sylus…are your wings sensitive when touched?”
He cracks his eyes open, and there’s a quality to them that wasn’t present before. A hint of…nervousness? 
“Yes.” He admits after a gap in a slightly breathless tone. “But only when you touch them.” 
His words only make you more captivated, and you continue to delicately stroke down the leathery expanses, the surfaces almost silky to your touch. As you do so, Sylus suddenly squeezes his eyes closed and lets out a rough moan, like he is doing his best to not lose his restraint. 
Your hands freeze as you feel his claws scrape against your clothes, digging into your soft skin as his wings swiftly drop from their extended positions, cocooning you in a swaddle of red and black.
Unsure what just happened, you gently try stroking his hair again. There had been no mention of dragons behaving like this in the books you’d read, and you were burning to ask him, but not if he wasn’t in the right state of mind.
“Sylus?” You call his name softly and hear him hum in response. “Are you ok?”
He lets out a few uneven breaths before resting his head on your chest just underneath your chin. “Yes…I’m fine. No need to worry.” 
“Is it all right if I ask something else?”
“Does it have to do with those ridiculous readings of yours again?” 
You’re about to protest but decide against it. He was behaving in a completely unprecedented manner and you weren’t about to kill the adorable mood. 
“Why are your wings wrapped around me like this?” Your hands rest on his flanks, feeling his tail swishing as it lightly hits your feet. 
It seems to take him a great deal of willpower to bring himself into a state where he can answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, mesmerizing, rumble, and you feel yourself tremble in response.
"When a dragon has a mate, it's not uncommon to wrap our wings around them. It's like a protective shield, a barrier that symbolizes possession. You might say it’s our way of claiming our beloved as ours." Sylus’s mouth ghosts your ear, and his next words cause gooseflesh to erupt on your skin. 
“Sometimes, the urge to mate becomes too strong and dragons don’t particularly enjoy being watched. The size of our wings is significant because they must be able to completely wrap around their mate as our primal instincts take over. Hides them from unwanted eyes. After all, there can be no treasure more precious to a dragon than our mate.”
A claw gently pushes away a stray lock of hair from your face and Sylus gazes longly at your face. Swallowing, you press on with your questions, despite feeling a steady rise of tingling heat beginning in your belly and slowly flooding into your chest and sex. 
“And when dragons mate…is it similar to other animals going into a rut?” 
Sylus chuckles, and his tail slides up your body, slithering between your breasts, the feel of each scale brushing against you sparking little flames of desire under your skin. His forehead rests against yours and his wings seem to tighten around you even more. 
“Rut would be the wrong word. A rut would imply something quick and with little intention other than impregnation. Dragons do not rut like most basic animals…we have a long and sensual ritual, lasting for a significant period, and the end goal is to ensure our mate’s satisfaction. Also, dragons do not have a set season like most animals. Rituals can occur anytime provided both mates are willing.”
Your mouth goes dry at the explanation, and you can see the edges of his scarlet irises beginning to darken even more, like bits of smoke mixing with magma. “A-A r-ritual?” Your tongue feels like it’s too big for your mouth and you stumble over the words. 
“Yes my little one,” Sylus purrs, and this time when his lips touch your ear, he follows it with a wet lick of his tongue, awakening a heady, primal, storm inside your gut. “The dragon breeding ritual. A crucial part of dragon courtship. During this time, the male will go into a rather intense state of need. Nothing matters beyond being close to and satisfying his mate. And the female must be prepared for a rather… passionate experience."
Your next words fall out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. 
“Are a dragon’s organs compatible with a human’s?” You cover your mouth as soon as you ask, face flushing with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to ask it so crudely, but too little too late. 
Sylus gives you an appraising look, his lips curling. “Well…simply put, yes. They’re compatible with human mating organs but they’re certainly not visually similar.” His reply astounds you and you blink, unprepared for his answer, rendered speechless. Questions buzz in your head as you mull over what you’ve been told.
“I’m guessing there’s more?” Sylus’s eyes glitter with mischief. 
“Ah…well….” You recall one last thing you had read and it was so outlandish that you weren’t sure how to put it into words. Sylus watches you patiently as you try to get your words together. “The book…the book said…that dragons are…that they have…” 
You swallow and bite the bullet. “That dragons have two.” 
Silence follows your words and Sylus’s eyes widen, before he composes himself.
“Heh. Were you purposely saving the interesting questions for last sweetie?” A cheeky grin quirks his lips and you turn your face to hide in his wings. 
“Now now. Don’t get all embarrassed with it out in the open.” Sylus grasps your chin and turns you to face him. “It looks like at least one thing in that book was right.”
Your eyes become as wide as dinner plates. “Really?”
“Yes. That bit of information is true. Male dragons do in fact have two mating organs.” 
The casual way Sylus says these words, like he’s giving a biology lecture contrasts your shell-shocked expression. Your mind could now only attempt to imagine what it looked like and it was going haywire at the discovery. 
Observing the stunned look on your face, Sylus gently nudges you. “Perhaps you shouldn’t ask questions that you’re not ready to hear the answers to, kitten.” 
Your eyes rove down over his body, taking in the wide view of his chest, leading down to narrower hips and legs that seemed to stretch for days. Then his tail, an appendage adding another 6 feet to his whole length. And somewhere in between all this, tucked away under his leather trousers were not one, but two, dragon penises. 
You try to recall your last encounter with a man, a knight, who had been keen on showing his abilities. It was fine, for lack of a better word, and you remembered how the man’s decently sized single organ shrunk once everything was over. Were Sylus’s similarly shrunken and stacked one above the other at this very moment?
At your lack of response, Sylus chuckles, then in an unexpected gesture of tenderness, strokes your hair. “I can tell this isn’t the end of it. Go on. Get it all out.”
Your mind seems to have lost its ability to think. Wetting your lips, you try to think of something reasonable to say but words have lost all meaning. After a few more minutes of silence, during which Sylus has wrapped you up again in his arms and tail, enjoying your closeness, do you finally venture forward with an inquiry.  
“Why two?”
Sylus makes an odd noise like he was choking down a laugh. He lets out a puff of air, chortling. “Ah, kitten. If only I knew. There are two theories, both of which don’t have much evidence to support them.” Sylus turns onto his side and you yip as you’re sandwiched between his wings, the upper one covering you like a blanket as Sylus moves into a more comfortable position, moving your body closer to his.
“The first theory is that because dragon pairings are rare, two organs help increase the chances of a successful pregnancy. The other…” he trails off and his smile becomes positively wicked before he continues. “The other suggests that having two serves no other purpose than to heighten the woman’s pleasure.”
An uncontrollable shiver runs down your spine and you feel your entire body become hot. Your voice is hushed as you ask, “And they…both…go into the same…?”
Catching on to what you were implying, Sylus chuckles at your reaction, your embarrassment only fueling his enjoyment. It was so tempting to tease you into a flustered mess.
"Ah, you're catching on, aren't you? Yes, both of them go... in the same place. And together, no less." He leans in, his mouth close to your ear again. "Can't you picture it, my dear? The sensation of both of them, inside you at the same time..."
You squeak at the graphic description and bury your face into his chest. “Ok, I’ve heard enough! Stop!” You try to calm your racing heart but Sylus’s low purr as he’d explained dragon anatomy was still ringing in your ears. There was a burning curiosity to ask him how it worked, how it fit but you were positive you would drop dead from the embarrassment. 
You twitch when Sylus puts his calloused hands on your back, soothingly stroking your skin. “It’s all right my jewel. I know it’s a lot of information to process. Take your time. I’m yours after all.” 
At his last few words, you lean away and glance at his face. “You’re mine?”
“Yes,” Sylus murmurs, the tenderness in his eyes becoming more evident. “As you are mine. I’m equally your mate as well.” There’s a tinge of possessiveness in his voice that you hadn’t heard before and it was making you feel weak; the thought of belonging to Sylus, of him belonging to you. There was an ancient concept of souls being bound at play and suddenly you find that you’re highly attuned to his mood; the atmosphere has changed, and part of you can feel the intense want that’s filling Sylus’s bloodstream, can sense the depth of his emotional bond as it echoes in his chest. Your body seems to synergize with his, each rush of blood, each dilation of the pupils, and every sigh that’s being shoved back all come into clarity. You reach out to touch his neck and the mating mark on yours seems to hum with life, drawing you closer to Sylus’s physical state. 
Sylus looks intoxicated as he drinks in the sight of you, soft and pliant in his arms despite having done nothing but talk to you about courtship. You were still shy, but he can sense there’s now a primal instinct that’s beginning to take over. His restraint was at a limit but he waits for you to make the first move, knowing he’d regret it if his first act of intimacy with you was for his own selfishness. His voice dropped even lower,  a rough, possessive growl.
“Be mine, my precious treasure. Be with me. Be Mine to claim, mine to protect, and mine to possess."
His words resonate deep within you and the overwhelming feelings you’d been holding back break like a dam. With trembling fingers, you stroke his cheek, dragging a fingertip across his lips, your breath catching as Sylus nibbles the digit. 
Gathering courage, you ask him softly, “Can I see?”
A thrum seems to vibrate through the air and Sylus nods. “You wish to see all of me? I’m yours.”
Sensing you were too timid at the moment, Sylus undoes his trousers, and they rustle as he slips them down his legs. Still in his embrace, covered with his wings, you wait, then trail your hands down his heated abdomen. His heart pounds in his chest as you do so, feeling the unfamiliar terrain of skin and scales before your hand finally reaches its destination. Sylus’s harsh breathing can be heard as he waits for you to touch him but when you do so, you’re slightly puzzled. 
Your fingers brush against smooth scales where a normal man’s genitals would be. You venture further, wondering. 
“Sylus? They are here right?” 
You hear a choked laugh, then he nuzzles the top of your head. 
“Yes, my love. Like I said, visually, I’m not like a man.” His voice is gruff as he tries to explain. His hands roam across your body, squeezing the soft flesh and purring at the feeling. 
“Then where…?”
“They're hidden beneath my scales, darling.” There’s a breathless quality as he speaks. “Just keep…petting me there.” 
Sylus closes his eyes for a moment, his body trembling as you continue to touch him. The sensation of your fingers tracing the scales on his skin was both soothing and arousing, making it difficult to hold back the possessive roar that threatened to escape his throat. Watching your reaction as you explored the area where his scales ended and something more intimate began was threatening to snap his will in two like a twig. 
“Oh!” Your eyes widen as you suddenly feel a bump starting to make itself evident. 
“There…” Sylus’s voice is gravelly. “Go ahead, my dear... Lift my scales gently. Just a little...”
You feel like little electric currents are running nonstop under your skin as you follow his orders. Your sex pulses between your closed legs, all the courtship explanations still fresh in your mind. You carefully start to lift the scales over the bump, curiosity piqued as they give way to a sort of shallow slit, then before you can go any deeper, you feel something hard and moist rise out of the patch. 
Whatever you had been imagining didn’t even come close to the real thing. You watch, transfixed, as Sylus’s twin cocks spring free, standing proudly in your palm. One was higher up on his body, and the other sat lower, and the lower one was slightly longer than the upper. Both of them were hot to the touch, beads of precum weeping from their slits. Colossal compared to a human, their surfaces were smooth but ridged in parts, in a way that resembled scales, yet softer. They were both coated in a sort of viscous, translucent, liquid, exuding from the cocks. 
Sylus groans as he feels the heat of your palm against his cocks. In a constricted voice he asks, “Well? What do you think?”
Fascinated, you gently grip the lower one, silently noting the size of it compared to your forearm, and wrap your fingers around it, barely managing to make them meet around the engorged column. A low growl leaves Sylus as you start to pump the smooth, velvety, column, observing how the shorter top one also responds, pulsing in time with its pair. A slick, wet noise fills the air as you stroke him and Sylus’s hips begin to rock against your movements. His mouth is open and he’s panting, sweat gathering on his brow as you experimentally continue to touch him. 
The scales that lined his cock were incredibly squishy and malleable, not at all having resemblance to the hard and sharp ridges on the rest of his body. As more of the lubricating fluid began to gather on his lengths, you wonder at the texture of those scales against the palm of your hand, and suddenly, start imagining how they would feel inside your cunt. Rubbing, stroking, providing extra stimulation as they nestled deep inside you. You bite your lip and steal a look at Sylus, heart jolting when you find him gazing right at you, and judging by his expression, he can feel the longing building deep inside your body. 
“I can smell it, kitten.” He inhales deeply, your scent filling his senses like an aphrodisiac. “Your arousal. It’s as potent as the daturas on the mountainside.” His cheek brushes against yours and you freeze as he kisses the corner of your lips. It was so unexpected and sweet and you turn towards him. 
“Bloom for me,” Sylus whispers before his lips lay over yours, capturing them in a deep and passionate kiss. Your breath catches in your throat and it’s like the kiss had opened a gate, all your raw desires coming loose. Like a ball of unwinding yarn, your arms draw around Sylus’s neck, pressing as possibly close as you can to him, your mouth opening sweetly to offer him your tongue.
The unbridled ardor of your reaction has Sylus groaning like a drowning man, his tongue slipping deeper into your wet cavern, sipping, sampling, and savoring the flavors that were unique to you. The rushing thrill of your surrender was a dizzying upward spiral as his hands roamed over your body, cupping your clothed breasts as his wings quivered from the tingling delight of being wrapped so snugly around your form. 
Sylus breaks the kiss and his long, dexterous, tongue licks a line down the side of your neck, sucking over the point where your pulse beat hotly, and into the crook of your shoulder. You gasp as his teeth sink into the flesh, a nip of pain flaring through you before Sylus soothes the sting with his tongue. 
“You taste as delicious as you smell my jewel,” he murmurs sensually, and continues his journey across your body, biting and sucking at your collarbone before resting between your breasts, nuzzling his face into the warmth. 
His tail has managed to slip between your legs and the jagged ridges have all smoothed into a streamlined piece of muscle, teasingly moving between your thighs, just high enough for the upper side to rub against your underwear, playing into the wetness that was already starting to gather. You moan at the stimulation, barely enough to even scratch the surface of your raging flames, and hook your leg over Sylus’s hip to give you more access. The thick tail presses into your slit, rhythmically dragging the fabric against your engorged clit as his hands busy themselves undoing the laces at the back of your dress. 
You shiver despite the rising heat as the dress falls apart at the back and Sylus drags the garment off over your head, his breath catching as he finally gets his first, unobscured look at you. His eyes rove appreciatively over your body, his blood humming in his veins as he watches your skin become ruddy, the light filtering over it through his wing casting a soft, shadowy glow. Your nipples were perked and hard, your skin smooth and creamy, with little curls of hair poking out from underneath the sides of your panties. 
You whimper as the very tip of his tail wedges into the apex of your folds, rubbing the soaked fabric directly onto your clit, sending skitters of electricity through your system. The air seems to become balmy as you breathe, harsh pants leaving you as want grows in your core, the overwhelming need to bite down and mark him back as he’d done for you becoming palpable with each passing second. 
Sylus raises a clawed finger and brings it to your mouth, which you obligingly suck, followed by a sharp bite that makes his eyes dilate and brings a grin to his lips. He slowly pulls the digit back, letting it slide between your lips and stroking the wetness onto a nipple, enjoying the way your breath becomes ragged and how your core clenches against his sinful ministrations. 
“Sylus…” you whimper, feeling tension curling in the pit of your stomach like a bow that’s been drawn too tight. His only response was a hum, his head dipping down leisurely to capture your other nipple, licking circles on it with the tip of his tongue, not unlike the motions his tail was currently drawing onto your puffy clit. His thumb and forefinger tweak your other hardened peak, pulling and pinching methodically as the moans of your pleasure fill the chamber. Now and then you feel the scrape of his monstrous teeth against the delicate skin of your nipple, just intense enough to bring a small lick of fear into you before you feel the reassuring slip of his tongue. 
Your sighs fill your head, body yielding to him, melting against the silken leathery embrace of his wings, eyes closing as the sweetening ache inside you builds. You stir as you feel his tail shift, and your panties are dragged down your legs, exposing your swollen sex. The unexpected feeling of his scales is suddenly made present as his tail lays flat between your folds, wetting itself with your slick and gliding smoothly against your aroused pussy. Your mouth opens to let out a high-pitched whine as the smoothened scales add extra stimuli to your bud, your hips moving with him and seeking out more friction. Sylus finally releases your nipple as he feels your desperate humps, and maneuvers you so that you’re straddling him, body balanced on his tail as it continues to pleasure you.
Your voice keens as your hands splay on his hard chest, the slippery appendage rocking against your clit, feeling the differences in the size of the scales while sliding closer to the base as the dagger-shaped tip tickles your chin. Your mouth instinctively moves to take it, sucking on it pacifyingly to ground yourself as your hips undulate over the rest of the sinew. You boldly glance at Sylus and his eyes are sanguineous, uninhibitedly gazing at the sight of you hot and bothered, seeking carnal satisfaction that he knows only his body can provide. 
The end of his tail withdraws from your mouth and teasingly draws back down to your breast, curling around a nipple and squeezing while he maintains the steady movement he knows you crave between your legs. With nothing to muffle your noises, your voice grows steadily louder, echoing off the high walls of the cave as Sylus guides you toward the abyss of gratification. 
“My body is yours little one,” Sylus says in a harsh whisper that has your senses on edge. You feel the flutter of his wings as they enfold you again, a little space of privacy where only you and he exist. 
“Use me for your pleasure.” His hand cups your cheek and his movements become frenzied, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you writhe over him, trying to find release. 
A soft haze seems to settle around you as your body orgasms. You feel the repetitive little spasms of your clit mirrored in your core as they become longer and more intense, flooding your body with sinful delight as you sob out your need. Your eyes are shut tight, the world becoming an incoherent mix of color and light where nothing is solid except for your mate as he pushes you through your heady climax. Even as your heartbeat turns erratic, you can sense the changes in him too as he scents the salty tang of your relief as your body relaxes. You gasp, steadying yourself as Sylus gently withdraws his tail, letting you collapse on his chest as you try to come back down to earth.
You feel his claws soothingly scratch your back and gratefully nuzzle into his chest before taking a steadying breath and peering over your shoulder at his neglected cocks. They were still standing, colossal and proud, with thick pearlescent beads forming on the tip. The slippery viscous fluid was now being exuded copiously, lubricating the entire length.
You crawl over to them, and Sylus lets out a gasp of surprise as your tongue darts out to taste one, running it over the weeping head. You taste salt on his skin and bob your head down a little lower, taking as much as you can, and Sylus fists the rug, his teeth biting his lower lip as he tries to control the raging urge to take you right there. 
Barely able to deepthroat him, you come back up, letting the moistened cock slip out of your lips before you gather both between your hands, squeezing the bases together before sucking both tips back into your mouth. Your jaw stretches wide to accommodate them, only taking him about halfway before coming back up for air. The lubricant covering them was tasteless but aided their path into your mouth and towards the back of your throat. Sylus thrusts into the inviting wetness as he tries not to choke you. You suck playfully, wet noises issuing from your mouth as you do so before Sylus suddenly jerks your head back, strings of spit connecting your lips to both heads.
“Not like this…” His voice is ragged. Swiftly, he flips you onto your back, drawing your ankles to rest on his shoulders as your thighs part for him. Your hole is quivering with anticipation as you feel one of the thick erections probe your entrance. 
“Breathe sweetie,” Sylus reminds you, his eyes growing steadily more animalistic as he pushes into you. You gasp at the feeling, then your eyes widen as Sylus gently splits you apart, your folds giving way to his massive proportions. You sniff, tears in your eyes at his size. There was pain along with the pleasure as your walls adjusted to him. 
Sylus’s wings gather you close to him, cradling you against his body as he strokes your face, whispering encouragement to you as he continues to sheathe himself into the hot moisture of your cunt. You squirm, the stretch foreign and uncomfortable, unsure what to do.
“Relax my little one. It’s ok.” Sylus kisses away your tears. “Remember we were made for each other. We’re meant to fit.” He halts, nearly fully inside, and your sniffs fade as you slowly adjust to him. Sylus thrusts softly, and you whimper, feeling so full impaled helplessly on his generous size. As he continues those deep strokes, your body seems to easen, the tension trickling away and giving rise to a whole new sensation. Your breath catches as you feel the thick mushroom head kiss your cervix with each stroke, the lower cock slapping against your buttocks with each move. The scales you had been touching earlier dragged smoothly along your inner walls with minimal resistance, flattening every time he pushed in, and erotically stimulating them as he withdrew. Every inch of your sex felt like it was being touched all at once and your eyes close dreamily as you lose yourself to the growing flutters of ecstasy. 
The next set of delighted moans are music to his ears and Sylus sensually rolls his hips each time, determined to wring out every tiny noise possible from you. Your face scrunches up in pleasure as he takes you, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you keep thinking about how the second one would feel. Your breasts bounce as he fucks you, and soon you’re breathing his name, hands grasping his forearms as your bodies fuse together.  
Sylus sees your eyes glazing over with need, your mind switching to a state where all that mattered was the hedonistic rush of your bodies working together in harmony. He pauses, interrupting his rhythm as he angles his second cock at your entrance.
You moan as you feel it but when Sylus pushes, there’s no resistance, your cunt already sloppy from his previous thrusts. The action puts his upper cock in contact with your Gspot, and your cunt feels wonderfully pliant as you feel both of them working in tandem to bring you to another peak. The added thickness combined with the scales' stimulation on both surfaces brought you to a realm of delight you hadn’t thought was possible as he starts to fuck into you with purpose, certain that you are no longer in pain.
His teeth are gritted as Sylus ruts into you marveling at the tightness of your cunt, how every clench and spasm felt on his dicks, knowing he was responsible for each one. Your combined juices start to pool at the base of his cocks, leaving a sticky ring of arousal. The wet squelch of your cunt fills the air and Sylus sees your folds, still slick from the interaction with his tail and he’s determined to make you lose control another time. 
You whine in protest when you feel him halt again and Sylus hushes you as he withdraws his upper dick and lets it sit with a moist plop back between your folds. The runny juices slide down and coat your pussy and you can feel the soft ridged scales now nestled at your most sensitive spot and you realize what he intended to do a second before it happened. With a smooth brush, Sylus buries himself back in your cunt and you feel the tingling stimulation of the scaled ridges sliding through your folds and hitting your clit one after the other. You nearly shriek at the feeling, almost on the border of overstimulation as Sylus sets up a brutal pace, his hips slamming into yours. 
Your face screws up and your eyes are squeezed closed as all your pleasure spots are stroked at the same time, your gspot and clit pulsing wetly. Sylus growls, his body pistoning in hot need as he chases his orgasm, seeking release. Your entire being feels like it’s slipping away, your cries of delight the only thing that can be heard. 
“Cum for me my love,” Sylus says brokenly, breathless and enraptured at the way you look, his legs shaking from the effort of controlling his climax before you had yours. Your body arches off the rug to feel the slick push of his cock and scales at a different angle and your toes curl as you finally let go and orgasm for the second time. It robs you of your thoughts, little brushes from the spikes continuing to push through every tremor you feel as the hot waves of gratification flood your system. 
Sylus’s hips stutter as he feels your walls fluttering around him, and lets out a feral roar as his climax hits him, his balls tightening up in urgent release and they spill their load. His abdomen clenches, his breathing rough as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. You hold onto him as you feel each spasm of his cocks both inside and out, one filling your walls with thick jets of his seed, the other dripping his hot, sticky cum onto your clit, mixing with your fluids as it drips messily into your slit, marking you as his in the most primal way possible. 
It takes a while for him to recover, nestling against you, and you’re content to feel his weight on your body as you stroke his hair. After a period of silence Sylus hums and rolls you over so that you’re on top of him. The action dislodges his cock from your channel and you quickly clench your hole closed, determined to keep all of him inside you, even though your folds are dripping from his essence and leaking onto him. 
“Mine…” he purrs as he noses your neck and you smile at him, brushing his cheeks with your thumb. A deep sense of belonging and satisfaction courses through both of you as you lay together in the afterglow of your courtship. 
“Rest for now kitten.” Sylus’s eyes are heavy with sleep as he cradles you on his chest. Your body felt wonderfully achy from your lovemaking. 
“I hope the hatchlings look like you,” he murmurs tiredly, and you blink as your ability to process starts coming back to you. 
“Hatchlings?” 
“That’s what we call our young.” Sylus tenderly cups your cheek and kisses you. “I’ll be certain to fill you a few more times to ensure it happens.” 
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on-the-clear-blue · 3 days ago
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So yall know that the League of Assassin's are like, an eco terrorist thing right? Well I just had this idea.
Sam, coming into Danny's room and just face planting on his bed: Ugh...
Danny, who was sleeping, awoken as his friend who had gone missing 6 moths ago flopped onto of him: OH SWEET-NOCTURN IF THIS ISNT REAL I AM GONING TO SOUP YOY SO HARD...
Sam, reaching up and slapping her hand on his mouth:Shhh, less screaming, more sleeping, escaping murder cults takes more energy than I thought.
Sam produces to pass out and sleep for three days straight.
---
Tucker, lookingnup from his PDA: so...you joined what you thought was a peaceful protest and some how ended up in a eco terrorist death cult of assassins? I mean...shit now I have to do something interesting...
Danny, choking on his drink: Nuh uh, your the normal one Tuck, I died and now have a magical girl transformation and Sam got kidnapped by ninjas and somehow even more bad ass, you...you can still get out of this and just be a normal person.
Sam, nodding sadly: Yeah...don't conform to our standards Tucker, be your true, weak little boney self.
Tucker, sniffing:I am so going to not do that.
---
Just the idea that Sam not only got League training but also got out is hilarious to me, like yeah, that is the kinda bs that would happen.
Alsoni can just see her dropping random lore shit.
Sam, bored as the boys study: Did you know thst the Demon Head dunks himself in corrupted ecto? Yeah it's gnarly man, didn't taste good.
Danny, going to speak before pausing and thinking, before sighing:Yeah I would have licked it too.
Tucker, frowning as he finishes his "Evil invention-enator": You both have so many issues.
---
Sam, trying to teach Danny the basic league hand to hand:Come on dude! It's not that hard!
Danny, falling flat on his ass after not even touching Sam: Ow ow ow...fuck yeah it kinda is!
Sam, rolling her eyes: If not only the Demon Heads six year old grandson can learn but also Ellie? You can too.
Danny, mutterinf under his breath before pausing completely:ELLIE? What was she doing with a murder cult? I thought she learnt her lesson after the last one!
Sam, shrugging before putting kicking at Danny on the floor: I don't know she was following a guy around who was catatonic, said something about being angry at him for not answering her pen pal messages or whatever, I was more busy training to really care...like you should be doing!
---
Years later Sam is joining Danny and Tucker in Gotham, Tucker because he was scouted by both WE and Lexcorp, he wanted to choose the evil company because poorer work place regulations and the likely hood of him getting a powerbost was much higher, but was bullied by his friends/partners into choosing WE.
Sam, coming to the R&D labs late one night bringing Tucker dinner so he doesn't starve working a late shift, blinking as she sees a short boy sneaking out of the lab: Biraeam? (Sprout in Arabic) what are you doing here.
Damian, blinking right back, experimental tech Bruce has yet to clear for the field clutched under one arm and the blueprints for a new type of explosive batarang in the other: Manson...I-I could ask you the same.
Sam, raising an eyebrow and staring down Damian: bringing dinner to my husband...who works here...and I can only think that you do not. So I ask that you put those things you have down and tell your bastard of a grandfather not to step back in this place.
Damian, eyes squinting, he hadn't been around his grandfather for ages at this point but still felt offended at her tone: I don't think I will.
---
An epic fight produces where they both try not and spill/destroy the things that they are carrying until either Tucker or Tim find them and explain everything.
The everlasting Trio gets invited over for dinner (mostly because Bruce is a paranoid bastard and dislikes thst one of his employees is dateing/ is partners with an ex-LoA member) and it's a bit of just pointing at each other and shit
Sam, slamming her hands down on the table as she stands: Kindly Mr Wanye, Shut the fuck up, I know your batman, we all fucking know it so if you are going to try and interrogate us at least do it properly!
Danny, sipping his wine: I mean...I-I didn't know but I um...haven't been paying much attention to the bat dude...Rag man is cooler.
Sam, glaring:And you! Fucking Ragman? You can do so much better.
Danny, offended for his hero: Oi! He does good work!
Bruce, frowning as this night has gotten away from him: He kills people.
Sam, waving over at Bruce: Exactly!
Danny, rolling his eyes: Exactly she says, while having a kill count that's still growing, Exactly she says when she was the one that pushed that oil tycoon off the 50th floor.
Sam wincing,: Maybe not in front of batman babe?
Danny, looking over to Bruce that is looking ready to fight: Shit...imma call Tuck and tell him to start packing...
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goddamnitmahtin · 2 days ago
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Wait for Me
Ok so AU where Jason remembers being dead and remembers what he did while he was dead. And now that he’s back? He’s fucking pissed. He doesn’t actually pay attention to anything while he’s with the league. All of his self preservation? Gone. He just wants to die again and be with his Ghost King boyfriend. That’s all!
Jason huffed as Robin pushed him out of the way of the bus. Goddamn it. He was so close that time. The stupid kid. Ruining his chances.
Jason didn’t even really care that he had been replaced. He had expected it. B was never sentimental and Jason was never anything more than a sidekick anyways. He was replaceable. That was already proven. Batman always had a Robin. It didn’t really matter who Robin was. It was a title, not a person.
After pretending to be thankful for the save, Jason decided to go back to the league. Ra’s was like super evil but he was also a dumbass. It wasn’t hard to set him off. Maybe he could get Ra’s to kill him if he was lucky. Probably not. Since Talia and Damian were there. Ra’s wasn’t really much of a man. Nothing more than an idiot who didn’t want to die. The complete opposite of Jason.
He knew Talia and Damian were concerned with his behavior. The only reason he was dipped in the pit in the first place was to spite the Batman. Hoping he would be out for blood. He wasn’t stupid. But instead of getting a broken boy urging for revenge, what they had gotten was a very annoyed teen with suicidal tendencies. And very strange interests.
Jason went into his room of sorts. It was the area they let him live in. He didn’t have much, just a bed and a dresser. The only reason he even lived with them at this point was because they gave him food. He had made it clear when he was brought back that he had no interest in revenge. He just wanted to be dead. It was where he belonged after all. It had upset Talia so much that she had set up a small are for him to live in right where she could always see him. Almost like League of Assassins’ version of suicide watch. It didn’t stop Jason from sneaking out and trying anyways.
He grabbed a book he stole from Ra’s a week ago. He left his little sleeping area and went to find the old bastard. He threw the book at him, hitting him in the face. He could hear it as the book broke Ra’s nose. Good.
“Do you have a death wish?” he asked.
“YES!” Jason screamed, “If I don’t die soon, I’ll be too old for my boyfriend! If I die and I can’t date Danny anymore because I’m too old, I’ll haunt your death cheating ass until the timeline implodes!”
“You have some serious issues Todd,” said Damian.
Jason didn’t care, he just hoped Danny was still waiting for him like he promised. He had to get home. He HAD to die.
868 notes · View notes
yaniluvs · 3 days ago
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a song , that sounds like you
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[ 한 ] ✷ ‎. . sleepover with your best friend, just like before. except that . . it isn't ?
۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑏sf!han ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , humour , crack , best friends to lovers , uni au , skz ensemble . 71OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. kisses , jokes , intimacy . ┆ 💌 ⋮ requested drabble .ᐟ ֹ ₊
yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ~I.5K WORDS. yani, dont over-write and turn every simple thing into a longfic challenge: go-> status: failed. THATS WHY I TOOK SO LONG. but anyways.... i read this like a gazillion times and im very slightly unhappy about it????? idk. but i got sick of it at some point so i didnt rly proofread for the final time. soooo finally another jisung fic lol >< posted way too much abt seungmo.. not that im complaining hehe. tribute to my beloved permed-jisung and pre-shaved jisung🙏 you're missed plenty. enjoy reading, thanks to anon for the req. <3 comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3
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the night felt like any other. it was nothing new. nothing unusual.
jisung had crashed at y/n’s dorm more times than he could count, so many that they’d stopped calling it a "sleepover" years ago. it was just… what they did.
tonight was no different—except maybe it was.
jisung flopped onto her bed dramatically, limbs splayed out like a starfish. "i'm dying."
y/n, arms crossed, raised an unimpressed brow. "you literally just walked in."
"my point." he turned his head toward her, grinning wide, dimples pressing into his cheeks. "the walk from my dorm to yours? brutal. my legs almost gave up. i nearly saw the light. i need some support here,"
"what you need is exercise, ji," she laughed, already walking past him toward the kitchen. "come on lazy ass, we’re cooking."
jisung groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "cooking? can’t we order food? delivery is, like, the peak of human civilization."
"you mean the peak of your laziness."
"same thing."
"you’re cooking today."
jisung immediately sat up. "i’m sorry, what?"
"you heard me."
"y/n, have you ever seen me successfully make anything that isn’t watered-down instant ramen or burnt eggs?"
"exactly why you need to learn." she shot him a knowing smile, opening the fridge. "come on, chef-nim, apron up."
jisung scoffed. "you act like i own an apron."
"you act like i don't have a spare." she tossed a black apron his way. he caught it with a dramatic sigh, slipping it over his tee. "this is humiliating."
y/n simply tied her own apron around her waist, moving swiftly around the kitchen. jisung, however, stood in the middle of it like he was lost in a foreign land.
"so," he said, rocking on his heels, "what are we making, masterchef?"
"some fried rice, with stir-fry for the sides."
"sounds safe enough. do i get a knife?" his eyes lightened up.
y/n turned to him, eyes full of doubt, hands on her hips. "do i look like i trust you with a knife?"
he clutched his chest. "ouch."
"jisung, the last time you touched a knife, you almost lost a finger."
"it was one time!"
"one time too many." she handed him a bowl instead. "crack the eggs."
"i can do that," he said confidently.
y/n watched as he picked up an egg, tapped it on the edge of the bowl—nothing. he hit it again. still intact.
"jisung."
"hold on, it's just being stubborn."
"you're literally supposed to—"
before she could finish, he smacked the egg with full force. it exploded in his hand, yolk dripping between his fingers. he blinked.
"…okay. that was aggressive."
y/n burst out laughing. "oh, good lord.."
"why are you laughing?! this is tragic!" he held up his hand dramatically, as if he'd just lost a battle.
she wiped away tears of laughter. "you’re such a disaster."
"and yet you still keep me around."
"i really question why, sometimes."
jisung wiggled his eyebrows. "because you love me."
"debatable."
"wow. you wound me."
she handed him another egg. "try again, but gently this time."
he pouted but followed her instructions. on the second try, he succeeded. barely. a little bit of shell fell into the bowl, but he picked it out quickly, flashing her a victorious grin.
"see? improvement."
y/n shook her head with a fond smile. "barely."
as she moved on to frying the rice, jisung leaned against the counter, watching her. the warm glow of the kitchen lights softened her features, and the way she effortlessly moved around—it was second nature to her.
"you're so good at this," he murmured absentmindedly.
she glanced up. "at what?"
"everything," he said simply.
her movements stilled for a second before she rolled her eyes, turning back to the pan. "corny."
"honest."
she pushed his forehead lightly with her fingers. "shut up and hand me the soy sauce."
jisung grinned, grabbing the bottle and sliding it over the counter toward her. "see? i am useful."
"debatable."
jisung gasped. "you really enjoy hurting me, huh?"
y/n only smiled as she stirred the rice.
they fell into a comfortable silence after that—jisung humming some random tune, y/n focusing on the food. it was normal. routine. nothing new.
except maybe it was.
because jisung found himself staring at her a little longer than usual.
and yn, for some reason, felt a little warmer than the stove’s heat should allow.
the aroma of warm rice, sizzling kimchi, and soy sauce had filled the small dorm, wrapping them in the kind of comfort that only home-cooked food could bring. y/n hummed softly as she scooped the steaming fried rice onto two plates, making sure to add an extra spoonful to her best friend's because she already knew he’d ask.
jisung, sprawled out on the floor like he had no bones in his body, watched her with a lazy grin. "you really know how to treat a man."
"you’re more of a babygirl, but okay," she replied without missing a beat, setting the plates down on the small coffee table in front of them.
"excuse me? i am very much a grown adult."
"sure," she snorted. "a grown adult who can't crack an egg."
jisung gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "low blow."
yn only grinned as she grabbed the remote, flipping on the tv. they didn't even bother picking something to watch—just let some random show play in the background while she scrolled through a playlist on her phone.
and just like that, the room filled with their favorite songs.
the playlist hummed in the background, weaving through the warm, dimly lit dorm like a familiar embrace. soft indie melodies blended into old tracks from their high school days, each song a quiet echo of late-night car rides and whispered confessions. nestled between them were jisung’s own songs—songs he had written on restless nights, songs y/n had begged him to release, songs he pretended not to care about being in the playlist but secretly loved seeing there.
the air smelled of soy sauce and garlic. jisung sat cross-legged on the couch, his loose shirt and plaid pajama pants slightly wrinkled. his fluffy brown hair that he'd recently gotten permed, much to y/n's pleading, was tousled, curls falling over his forehead, casting soft shadows over his sleepy eyes. he scooped up a bite of fried rice, humming in approval as he chewed, blissfully unaware of the way y/n was watching him.
she sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, chin resting lazily against them, gaze fixed on him with a softness even she didn’t notice. he looked so at home, so effortlessly him, sitting there with his cheeks puffed out from the food she made, eyes drooping slightly from exhaustion. a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
he always ate with the enthusiasm of someone who hadn’t had a proper meal in days, shoveling food into his mouth like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
“you’re staring,” his voice came, teasing yet laced with fondness.
y/n blinked, heat creeping up her neck as she quickly looked away. “i am not.”
jisung grinned, swallowing another bite. “liar.”
but he didn’t press further. he only smirked to himself, going back to his food, pretending he didn’t notice the way she studied him when she thought he wasn’t looking.
what he wouldn’t admit—what he barely admitted to himself—was that he did the same thing.
when y/n wasn’t paying attention, lost in the flickering candlelight of their tiny dorm, jisung found himself staring. he always did. the glow of the fairy lights made her skin look softer, her features delicate and warm. her hair, slightly messy from their earlier chaos in the kitchen, framed her face in a way that made his heart ache.
she was wearing her pyjama set, and the sleeves were bunched up around her fists as she absentmindedly traced circles against the couch cushion, after a bite herself.
she was beautiful. in the quiet, in the soft spaces between their banter, in the way she existed in his world so effortlessly.
“now,” she called out suddenly, breaking him from his trance. “you’re staring.”
his breath caught in his throat, but he recovered quickly, flashing his usual cheeky grin. “i am not.”
“liar.”
their laughter mingled with the music, and for a moment, the weight of their hidden feelings melted into the warmth of the night.
jisung exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he shoved another spoonful of rice into his mouth. he chewed slowly, eyes flickering between the half-empty plate and y/n, her expression unreadable except for the teasing glint in her gaze. his own voice filtered through the small dorm, warm and unfiltered, singing lyrics he once scribbled down at 2 a.m., never expecting them to be heard by anyone but himself.
he swallowed, running his tongue over his bottom lip before muttering, “you do this on purpose.”
y/n tilted her head, feigning confusion as she picked at her food. “do what?”
“this.” he gestured vaguely toward the speaker, his voice quieter now, almost sheepish. “make me listen to myself.”
she shrugged, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth like it was the most natural thing in the world. “your music is good.”
jisung let out a small, breathy laugh, but there was something uncertain in the way his fingers tapped against the bowl. “you don’t have to lie to make me feel better, you know.”
y/n blinked, chopsticks pausing midair. “i’m not lying.”
“you say that.” he glanced at her, then away, focusing on a loose thread on his pajama pants. “but you’re my best friend. you’d tell me it’s good even if it wasn’t.”
she frowned, setting her chopsticks down with a soft clink against the ceramic. “sung..”
he didn’t respond, just stuffed another bite into his mouth, chewing like he was trying to make himself busy. y/n sighed, shifting so she could look at him properly. the glow of the fairy lights cast gentle shadows on his face, highlighting the quiet vulnerability in his eyes—the kind he tried so hard to hide.
“look,” she started, voice softer now. “i don’t put your songs in our playlists just because you’re my best friend. i put them there because they belong there.”
jisung stilled, fingers tightening around his spoon.
“you write music that makes people feel something. i know because i feel it. i always have.” she toyed with the hem of her top. “and maybe it’s because i’ve seen you go through every stage of it. the late nights, the self-doubt, the way you talk about music like it’s the only thing that makes sense in your life sometimes.”
he swallowed thickly, staring at his plate like it held answers.
“i don’t just like your music, jisung. i believe in it. i believe in you.”
silence settled between them, thick and heavy, but not uncomfortable. jisung’s throat bobbed as he licked his lips, finally daring to meet her gaze.
something unreadable flickered in his eyes, something fragile and hesitant and real.
“…you always say things like that.” his voice was quiet, uncertain. “and i never know what to do with it.”
y/n smiled, small and knowing. “you don’t have to do anything. just don’t forget it.”
he stared at her for a moment longer, chest tightening with something he didn’t quite have the courage to name. then, exhaling softly, he looked away, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
“i won’t.”
they ate comfortably, stealing bites from each other's plates despite having the exact same food. it was normal, the way their chopsticks clinked against each other in midair, the way jisung would groan dramatically after every bite, acting as if he’d just tasted the best thing in the world.
"marry me," he said, mouth full.
y/n gave him a look. "chew first."
he swallowed, grinning. "okay, now will you marry me?"
"no."
jisung clutched his chest. "you are cruel, woman."
"you are an idiot, man."
"a lovable idiot," he corrected, shoving another spoonful into his mouth.
she rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.
a beat of silence passed between them, the kind that wasn't awkward but rather filled with something unspoken. jisung glanced at her between bites, again, watching the way the light from the tv flickered against her skin.
she looked… soft. comfortable. the same as always, but maybe not quite.
"so," y/n spoke suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. "how was your day?"
jisung blinked, needing a second to process the question. they spent most of their time together, but during classes, they went their separate ways. it was rare for them to actually talk about what happened when they weren't in the same place.
"uh," he started, stabbing his rice absentmindedly. "it was fine. boring. had a music composition lecture, but hyunjin fell asleep and snored loud enough for the whole class to hear."
y/n laughed. "no way."
"swear to god. professor park just stared at him for a solid minute before moving on."
"did no one wake him up?"
"i tried, but he swatted me away like a fly."
she shook her head, still laughing. "what else?"
jisung hesitated for a moment before answering, "i worked on a song between classes."
her expression softened. "the one you told me about?"
"yeah." he looked away, suddenly a little shy. "i, uh, actually finished the demo."
"jisung!" she smacked his arm lightly. "why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"i dunno," he muttered, playing with his chopsticks. "didn’t seem important."
"of course it’s important," she said firmly. "can i hear it?"
he met her eyes, something flickering behind his own, before he looked down again. "maybe later."
she didn't push, just nodded. "okay. your turn to ask."
he raised a brow. "ask what?"
"about my day, genius."
"oh. right." he leaned back, lazily twirling his chopsticks. "so, how was your day, my dear best friend whom i love and adore?"
she snorted. "it was fine. boring, mostly. but i had this duo project in business class."
jisung hummed in acknowledgment, taking another bite. "who’d you get stuck with?"
"a guy named sunwoo."
jisung froze mid-chew, his spoon hovering just inches from his lips. his brows furrowed for the briefest second before he blinked and forced himself to keep chewing, though suddenly, the fried rice didn’t taste as good anymore.
“i see..” he said after swallowing, voice casual. too casual. “never heard you mention him before.”
y/n shrugged, taking another bite. “yeah, we never really talked until today. he’s nice, though. smart, too. i was kinda worried i’d get stuck doing all the work, but he actually pulled his weight.”
jisung scoffed lightly, poking at his food. “that’s the bare minimum.”
she snorted. “true.”
silence stretched for a beat, the playlist shuffling to another song. jisung tapped his chopsticks against the edge of his bowl, trying to ignore the weird feeling curling in his stomach. it wasn’t a big deal. just a project partner. nothing to think about.
except—
“he was pretty talkative, too,” y/n continued, oblivious to the way jisung’s grip on his spoon tightened. “like, at first, it was just about the project, but then he started asking me random stuff. like, my favorite color, what i do in my free time, my favorite coffee order—”
jisung let out a short, almost incredulous laugh. “your coffee order? what, is he planning on getting you one next time?”
she blinked, considering. “i dunno, maybe. that’d be nice.”
jisung nearly choked on air. he coughed into his fist, shaking his head. “pfft. wow. sounds like he’s… really interested in your business skills.”
y/n laughed at that, nudging his leg with her foot. “oh, shut up. he was just being friendly.”
yeah, okay. sure.
he forced a grin, shoveling another bite of rice into his mouth like it would somehow get rid of the weird, nagging feeling inside him. “so, what else did he say?” he asked, tone still light, still playful. still pretending he didn’t care.
y/n hummed, thinking. “oh, he told me i have a really nice smile.”
jisung almost dropped his chopsticks.
“oh! and that i have pretty hands,” she added, wiggling her fingers in front of his face. “which is funny, ‘cause i don’t really get the whole hand thing, but—”
“he said what?” jisung cut in, voice cracking slightly.
she blinked up at him, confused. “...that i have pretty hands?”
jisung squinted at her like she was missing something obvious. “who compliments someone’s hands?”
“i don’t know! i mean, i guess they’re kinda nice…” she examined her own fingers, flexing them under the fairy lights. “they do a lot for me, you know? writing, playing, cooking—”
“okay, but still,” jisung interjected, trying not to sound too whiny. “that’s like—textbook flirting.”
y/n snorted. “no, it’s not.”
“yes, it is!” jisung threw his hands up. “first, he asks about your coffee order—classic move, by the way—then he calls your smile nice? and now your hands?” he pointed a dramatic chopstick at her. “that’s next-level, y/n. that’s, like, hand-holding agenda.”
she gave him a flat look. “i think you’re overreacting. personally i'd love making friends like that.” she laughed.
“no, you’re underreacting!” he groaned dramatically, flopping onto the couch, staring at the ceiling like it personally offended him. “i can’t believe this. my best friend is so oblivious.”
y/n just giggled, poking his knee. “oh, come on, ji. he was just being nice. and it’s not like i’m interested in him or anything.”
jisung perked up at that, a little too quickly. “you’re not?”
she shook her head, stuffing another bite of rice into her mouth. “nope.”
something unspoken settled in the air.
jisung let out a quiet breath, something inside him easing—but he still had an annoyed little pout on his lips. “still. he was flirting. you just don’t see it ‘cause you’re you.”
“hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“it means,” he huffed, crossing his arms, “that you’re too cute for your own good, and guys like him are gonna keep trying to hit on you while you remain completely, utterly unaware.”
y/n blinked, caught off guard.
jisung realized what he said half a second too late. his ears turned pink.
“…anyway!” he cleared his throat, suddenly stuffing his mouth with rice. “this is good fried rice. really, really good.”
y/n just watched him, something unreadable in her gaze. a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips.
“dork,” she muttered under her breath.
and if jisung, in his flustered state, caught the way she was staring at him now—soft, fond, admiring—he didn’t say a word.
"sunwoo. what kind of dumb name is that?"
she laughed, shaking her head.
soon, the food disappeared slowly between them, the plates scraping softly as y/n absentmindedly pushed the last bits of rice around with her chopsticks. jisung, on the other hand, had long since finished and was now leaning back on his palms, his head tilted toward the ceiling, looking entirely too satisfied. he stretched with a deep sigh, his tee riding up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin before settling back down.
"i’m convinced you were a chef in a past life," he said, breaking the silence, his voice laced with a kind of sleepy contentment.
y/n smirked, still focused on her plate. "i’ll take that as a compliment."
"it is a compliment," he assured her, turning his head to face her. his cheek was slightly squished against his shoulder, making him look more like a sleepy puppy than a grown man. "i’m genuinely scared of what would happen to me if you weren’t around. i’d probably live off ramen and instant rice."
"you already do that when i’m not around. and still make it taste bad."
"exactly," he said, as if she had just proven his point. "my body is, like, seventy percent sodium at this point."
y/n rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. "that explains a lot, honestly."
jisung gasped dramatically. "are you saying i look like someone who eats too much sodium?"
"i’m saying your diet is concerning," she teased, finally setting her chopsticks down and leaning back as well. the food had settled warmly in her stomach, and the atmosphere felt hazy in the best way—soft, familiar, comfortable.
jisung groaned, letting his head fall back. "this is why i need you in my life. you balance out all my self-destructive tendencies."
y/n snorted, stretching out her legs. "i’m your best friend, not your dietitian."
"best friend and dietitian," he corrected lazily.
she hummed, letting the conversation drift into a natural lull. the tv played quietly in the background, an old sitcom neither of them was paying attention to, and their playlist continued to shuffle through songs they had both heard a thousand times before. outside, the city was alive, but in their small little bubble of a dorm, it felt like time had slowed down just for them.
jisung shifted, sitting up properly, and y/n could feel him staring before she even turned to look at him. "what?" she asked, raising a brow.
he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before finally saying, "i want you to be in my song."
the words were simple, casual even, but they made something in y/n’s chest tighten. she blinked. "what?"
"my demo," jisung clarified, his voice softer now, more careful. "i want you to sing in it."
yn let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "jisung, you know i don’t do that."
"why not?" he tilted his head, brows furrowing slightly. "you’re literally so good. like, so good."
she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "it’s just a hobby for me, you know that."
"okay, but why just a hobby?" his voice had that familiar edge of insistence, the same one he used when he really, really wanted something. "you could do so much more with it."
she shrugged, eyes flickering to the tv even though she wasn’t really watching. "it’s not the same for me as it is for you," she said honestly. "music is your thing, jisung. you breathe this stuff. it’s not like that for me."
"but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it," he argued, leaning in slightly. "i love your voice, y/n. you know that."
she swallowed, feeling warmth crawl up her neck. he had told her that before—countless times, actually—but something about the way he said it now felt different, heavier. "it’s just not something i see myself doing seriously," she admitted, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.
jisung was quiet for a moment, his eyes studying her face carefully. then, with a small, teasing smile, he said, "okay. but what if it’s just for me?"
she looked at him, confused. "what do you mean?"
"i mean," he started, tapping his fingers against his knee absentmindedly, "forget about, like, doing music professionally or whatever. i just want you on this song. not because i think you should be an artist or anything—just because it’s us. i dunno. i feel like it’d sound better if you were in it."
y/n bit her lip, uncertain. she liked singing, she always had, but she never really thought about it beyond the occasional harmonizing with jisung when he played guitar, or the times she mindlessly hummed while cooking. it was never something she considered putting out there for other people to hear.
jisung, however, was looking at her with those big, expectant eyes, his wide smile softened at the edges. "just think about it," he said, nudging her knee with his. "no pressure. but i think it’d be cool. i mean, imagine—our voices together in a song? legendary."
yn laughed, shaking her head. "you’re ridiculous."
"i’m right," he corrected.
she sighed, resting her chin on her palm. "i don’t know, ji."
he pouted, but there was no real disappointment in his face—just patience, quiet and steady. "i’ll send you the demo," he said after a beat. "just listen to it. see if you like it."
she nodded slowly. "fine. i’ll listen."
jisung grinned, victorious. "that’s all i ask."
another silence stretched between them, this one softer, almost charged in a way y/n couldn’t quite explain. the tv droned on in the background, but neither of them was paying attention.
jisung shifted again, stretching his legs out next to hers, their knees knocking slightly. he exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch. "i like nights like this," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself.
yn turned to look at him, watching the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones under the dim light. "like what?"
"just…chill." he cracked one eye open, looking at her. "you. me. food. music. no stress."
she smiled softly. "yeah. me too."
jisung hummed in acknowledgment, closing his eyes again. "we should do this more often."
y/n didn’t respond right away, letting the words settle between them. she thought about how much time they already spent together, how their days were filled with each other in some way or another.
and yet, something about the way he said it—like he wanted more, like he wasn’t just talking about casual hangouts but something deeper—made her stomach flutter in a way she didn’t entirely understand.
she swallowed, nudging his foot lightly with hers. "we already do this all the time, idiot."
jisung smiled, eyes still closed. "yeah. but i mean more."
y/n’s heart did something weird in her chest, but before she could dwell on it, jisung sat up suddenly, stretching his arms above his head. "anyway. we should clean around before the angry yunah gets back and starts lecturing us about leaving dishes out."
the moment was gone, dissipating like smoke, leaving yn slightly dazed in its wake.
she nodded, shaking off the strange warmth in her chest, pushing herself up as well.
"right. let’s clean up."
and just like that, the night continued, soft and slow, something unspoken lingering between them—unnoticed, or maybe just ignored.
. . .
the dishes had been washed, the leftovers tucked away, and the night stretched lazily ahead of them, the warm haze of comfort lingering in the air. the tv was still on, playing something neither of them was paying attention to, but y/n could feel the way the atmosphere had shifted—thicker, heavier, filled with something unsaid.
jisung sat on the floor again, back resting against the couch, his fingers absentmindedly drumming against his knee. now, his sleeves were pushed up to reveal his forearms, and his hair was messier now, some strands sticking out in different directions. he looked soft like this—less like the flirty, chaotic mess he usually was and more like the boy she had always known, the one who could say a million things with just a glance.
y/n sat across from him, legs crossed, arms draped over her knees as she studied him. she hesitated for a moment before saying, “play it for me.”
jisung blinked, caught off guard. “huh?”
“the song,” she clarified, shifting slightly. “i wanna hear it.”
he stared at her for a second before scoffing. “you never wanna hear my songs before they’re done.”
“um, wrong, you always reject to play them for me before they're done.” she pointed, trying to sound casual. “i feel like listening everytime. and tonight.”
“and my guitar is right here, so..” she laughed.
something flickered across jisung’s face—surprise, maybe, or something softer—but he didn’t question it. instead, he reached for her guitar, a brown one, which had burgundy, floral borders over its peaks and edges. it had been sitting next to the couch all night, like it had been waiting for the right moment.
he adjusted it on his lap, fingers finding the familiar curves of the wood, the smoothness of the strings beneath his touch. the way he handled just.. guitars had always fascinated her—not just with skill, but with love, like it was an extension of himself, a second voice that spoke when words weren’t enough.
y/n watched, her chin resting on her palm as she took in the tiny details she had seen a hundred times before but never really noticed—the way his brows furrowed in focus, the way his lips parted slightly as if he were already singing in his head, the way the warm light from the tv cast soft shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the fullness of his bottom lip.
he cleared his throat. “okay, but don’t judge, ‘cause it’s still rough.”
she rolled her eyes. “i never judge.”
he gave her a look, but it was softened by a small smile before he looked down at his guitar again. his fingers moved, the first chords filling the room—gentle, familiar, warm.
and then, he sang.
his voice was low at first, careful, like he was still unsure if he wanted to let her hear it. but as the melody flowed, he eased into it, his tone settling into that effortless, raspy sweetness that always made something deep in y/n’s chest ache.
she watched, completely entranced, as his eyes fluttered shut, lost in the song. the way his throat moved as he sang, the subtle shifts in his expression, the slight crease in his brow when he hit a note just right—it was all so undeniably han jisung, and it was beautiful.
she had heard him sing countless times before, but something about this was different. maybe because it was just the two of them, the world outside forgotten. or maybe because she was finally allowing herself to see him, really see him, in a way she hadn’t before.
his voice filled the room, smooth and raw all at once, laced with emotion that made her chest feel tight. and the lyrics—god, the lyrics.
it was soft, bittersweet, almost like a confession hidden within the melody. he sang about late nights and lingering glances, about feelings that hovered on the edge of something more, about someone who felt like home.
and y/n couldn’t help but wonder—who was it about?
her breath caught slightly as she watched him, taking in the way his lashes cast the faintest shadows on his cheeks, the way his fingers moved effortlessly over the strings, the way his lips curled slightly around certain words, like he meant them.
she felt something warm spread through her chest, something unfamiliar yet oddly comforting, like stepping into sunlight after days of rain.
when he finally strummed the last chord, the room settled into silence, save for the distant hum of the city outside.
jisung let out a breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. “so… what do you think?”
y/n was still staring. she realized it a second too late and quickly looked away, blinking. “it’s…” her voice felt stuck in her throat, so she cleared it, trying again. “it’s beautiful, ji.”
he smiled, looking down as if trying to hide how much her words affected him. “yeah?”
“yeah,” she said softly.
another silence settled between them, this one different from the ones before. it wasn’t awkward—it was thick, weighted with something neither of them dared to name.
jisung shifted slightly, leaning her guitar against the couch. his fingers tapped against his knee again, a nervous habit. “i meant what i said earlier.”
y/n tilted her head. “about what?”
“about you being in the song,” he said, his voice quieter now. “your voice would fit perfectly. you have this way of making things sound… real. i dunno how to explain it, but i think it’d be better if you were part of it.”
“i know you don’t take singing seriously, and you did say you'd listen to the actual demo.. oh which i know means a no, almost,” he cut in before she could refuse, “but just this once. just for this song.”
y/n exhaled, her fingers curling around the fabric of her sleeve. “why does it matter so much to you?”
jisung opened his mouth, then closed it, as if he was debating how honest he wanted to be.
finally, he shrugged. “because it’s us.”
her heart skipped.
“i mean, not us us,” he added quickly, looking away. “just��� our voices. together. i think it’d be nice.”
y/n swallowed. “i don’t know if i’d be any good.”
“you would,” he said, no hesitation. “and i’d be with you the whole time. we’d do it together.”
together.
the word settled deep in her chest, warm and heavy.
she looked at him again, at the hopeful glint in his eyes, at the way he was watching her like she was something more than just his best friend.
and maybe, for the first time, she let herself wonder—what if she was?
she exhaled slowly, giving him a small, hesitant smile. “okay.”
jisung blinked. “okay?”
“i’ll do it,” she said, and his entire face lit up in that way it always did when he was really happy, the kind of smile that made her stomach flip in ways she didn’t fully understand.
“you won’t regret it,” he promised, excitement buzzing in his voice.
she wasn’t sure if that was true.
because something told her that once she sang with him, once their voices blended together in a song meant for something deeper—
there would be no going back.
and that terrified her more than anything.
. . .
sprawled out on jisung’s bed, surrounded by the soft hum of the laptop fan and the distant city sounds filtering through the window, y/n felt weightless. not in the way that meant floating away, but in the way that meant she was exactly where she was meant to be.
the air smelled faintly of fabric softener, of jisung’s vanilla-and-woodsy shampoo, of warmth. the blankets beneath them were slightly rumpled, evidence of a thousand previous sleepovers, tangled limbs, and late-night conversations that bled into early mornings. the glow from the laptop screen cast shifting patterns onto the walls, moving in time with the video they were watching.
it was their friend group’s latest dance cover, the kind they always hyped up in their group chat but never actually watched until they were together.
“look at hyunjin’s face,” jisung snickered, pointing at the screen as hyunjin executed a particularly dramatic spin, his expression intense. “bro thinks he’s in a movie.”
y/n burst into laughter, hiding her face in her hands. “no, because he so does that on purpose. you just know he was practicing in front of a mirror.”
“i bet he stared at himself for hours,” jisung agreed, shaking his head. “such a drama king.”
they continued watching, throwing in their own commentary as felix’s fluid movements took over the screen, followed by minho’s signature sharpness, yunah’s grace, and minseo’s precise footwork. their friends were insane, and as much as they teased, the admiration was real.
“minho-hyung’s on another level, though,” yn murmured, her head tilted slightly. “look at the way he controls his movements.”
jisung hummed in agreement. “yeah. he’s scary good.”
a comfortable silence settled between them, only the sound of the music playing through the laptop speakers filling the air. the bed dipped slightly where jisung had shifted, moving to lean on his elbow. yn could feel the shift in weight, the slight press of his arm against hers, the warmth of his body radiating closer than before.
she turned her head slightly—just a fraction—to look at him.
and that was when it happened.
something… shifted.
it was subtle, but it was undeniable. like a string pulled taut between them, an unspoken question hovering in the air.
jisung’s eyes were still on the screen, but his fingers had stopped absentmindedly tapping against the blanket. his jaw was relaxed, but his lips were slightly parted, like he had just thought of something he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say out loud.
the glow from the laptop flickered across his face, highlighting the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose, the way his lashes cast delicate shadows against his skin. his hair, slightly messy from the way he had been lying down, fell softly over his forehead.
and then, as if he could feel her looking, his gaze flickered to hers.
it wasn’t immediate. it wasn’t rushed.
it was slow.
deliberate.
his eyes met hers, and for the first time in a long time, neither of them looked away.
the music in the background faded into something distant, something unimportant.
the flickering light, the sound of their breathing, the way the air seemed to press down on them—it all blended into something almost dreamlike.
jisung’s gaze dipped, just for a second, to her lips.
and y/n’s breath caught.
it wasn’t new, being this close. it wasn’t new, lying next to each other, watching something, talking about everything and nothing.
but this?
this was new.
this was different.
she could feel it in the way the space between them seemed to shrink, in the way her pulse thrummed in her ears, in the way jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly.
his hand twitched—just barely—against the blanket.
and then, before she could even fully process it, he moved.
slow. hesitant. but sure.
his fingers brushed against hers, a touch so light it could have been mistaken for an accident. but neither of them moved away.
yn exhaled shakily, her heart a wild drum in her chest.
and then, suddenly—
their lips met.
soft at first. just a press—a quiet, unsure thing that barely lasted a second.
but then she leaned in.
and he did too.
and it wasn’t just a kiss anymore. it was something more.
jisung’s lips were warm, careful, but there was a hunger beneath it, something restrained, something that had been waiting far too long to be acknowledged. his fingers found her wrist, featherlight at first before gripping just slightly, grounding himself.
her hands curled into the fabric of his tee, and he let out a quiet exhale against her lips, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.
the laptop screen continued playing, casting shifting lights across their skin. the blanket beneath them was soft, but nothing—nothing—felt softer than this. than him.
he pulled away first, just enough to breathe, just enough to look at her.
his eyes searched hers, as if trying to understand what this meant.
as if asking, did we just cross the line?
but the thing was—
maybe there had never been a line in the first place.
maybe they had been here all along, just waiting for the right moment to realize it.
their breaths tangled in the space between them, warm and unsteady, still trembling with something unspoken. the moment felt like it stretched infinitely—long enough for y/n to take in the way jisung’s eyes flickered, dark pools of hesitation and something deeper, something unreadable.
his fingers, still curled loosely around her wrist, twitched, but he didn’t pull away.
the glow from the laptop continued to flicker, painting soft golds and muted blues across his face, across the fabric of his tee, across the slightly uneven threads of the blanket beneath them.
she felt warm.
not just from the shared heat between them, but from something in her chest, something that felt like a slow burn, like a realization creeping up on her.
jisung exhaled, his lips parting slightly as if to say something, but then he stopped.
she blinked at him, suddenly aware of the way her heart was still hammering. loudly. so loudly she swore he could hear it.
“…we just,” she said, as if confirming it to herself.
“kissed.”
jisung let out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “yeah. yeah, we did.”
silence. not awkward, but charged.
y/n wet her lips, suddenly hyper-aware of the lingering sensation of his against hers. soft. he was soft.
then, jisung groaned, burying his face into the pillow. “oh my god. did i just ruin us?”
she blinked, before laughing softly. “you’re literally so dramatic.”
“i am not,” he mumbled into the fabric, voice muffled.
“you are. like, so dramatic. like—oscar-worthy dramatic.”
jisung lifted his head just enough to glare at her, though the way his nose scrunched up made it less intimidating. “okay, miss i-just-kissed-my-best-friend-and-now-i’m-still-here-for-some-reason—why are you not freaking out?”
y/n tilted her head. “do you want me to freak out?”
“no?” his lips quirked. “maybe?” he groaned again, flopping onto his back, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers. “i just—wow, okay, so we really did just kiss. that happened.”
she rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, her fingers playing with the loose threads of the blanket. “do you regret it?”
jisung turned his head to look at her, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. he just looked.
his gaze trailed over the shape of her nose, the way her cheek was still slightly flushed, the way her hair had fallen over her shoulder, a few strands resting against her collarbone.
then, he whispered, “no.”
her breath hitched.
jisung swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “do you?”
a beat of silence.
“…no.”
another stretch of quiet, but this time, it was softer. like a shared secret, like something that no longer needed to be questioned.
then, jisung shifted, reaching up lazily, fingers brushing against the ends of her hair. “okay. so. now what?”
she huffed a small laugh, flopping back onto the pillows beside him. “i have no idea.”
“that makes two of us.”
they both stared at the ceiling for a long moment, the sound of the laptop’s fan whirring quietly in the background.
then—
jisung turned his head toward her again, watching the way her lips pursed slightly in thought, the way her fingers absentmindedly traced shapes onto the blanket.
slowly, carefully, he reached out, resting a hand against her arm. “can we—just. stay like this? for a bit?”
she turned toward him, eyes softening. then, instead of answering, she simply curled closer, letting herself nestle into his side, the fabric of his tee brushing against her cheek.
jisung let out a slow breath, his arm naturally slipping around her, his fingers resting against the dip of her waist.
she was warm.
he could feel her heartbeat, steady against his ribs, in sync with his own.
the scent of her shampoo filled his senses—something sweet, something vaguely floral, something hers.
the sound of their breathing intertwined with the faint music still playing from the laptop, a mix of their favorite songs.
jisung sighed, letting his cheek rest against the crown of her head. “you’re kinda dangerous, you know?”
yn hummed sleepily. “oh? why’s that?”
“because i don’t think i’ll ever want to sleep without you now.”
she smiled against his chest, eyes fluttering closed. “good thing i’m not going anywhere, then.”
and for the first time that night, jisung felt like maybe—just maybe—things had fallen into place exactly the way they were always meant to.
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mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan
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wileys-russo · 2 days ago
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I love all your fics!!! From Alexia’s foundation can we get an Alexia x reader fic where you guys have a kid and Alexia won’t even take it easy on her own child while playing soccer
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take it easy II a.putellas
"alexia." the blondes face softened at the call of her name, perking up as you smiled apologetically at the few other parents you scooted past to drop down into the empty seat beside your wife.
"hola mi amor." she pressed a kiss to your cheek as you scooted a little closer. "que?" she frowned seeing the obviously amused smile on your face as you looked at her.
"i have something..." she wiped at her mouth, having had a coffee not that long ago as you let out a chuckle and shook your head. "no, but you were making that face again." her frown only deepened at your answer.
"what face?" "the face." "what face?"
"this face." you mocked her stern scowl, sitting back in your chair and crossing your arms, practically glaring at the pitch where your son was running around, his training almost finished and the sun starting to dip lower behind the trees.
clicking her tongue at you the footballer just waved you off with a shake of her hand, though by the way she continued to fidget and adjust her position you knew she was now too aware of the way her face looked.
"what is wrong with my face?" your wife eventually huffed as the final whistle blew, all the boys huddling up with their coach as some of the parents began to stand and make their way over to the gate.
"nothing baby, i like your face. i married it." you pinched her cheek as she puffed air out of her nose and rolled her eyes simultaneously.
"why you make fun of it!" she scowled again, the accented english adorable as always, both of you speaking a blend of spanish, catalan and english around your son so he learned both your native languages equally.
"amor i am not making fun of it. but it makes him nervous when you sit and scowl like that!" you laughed as her frown shifted into something more curious. "who is nervous? leo?" alexia questioned.
"no amor, his coach!" you snickered, knocking your knee into hers and nodding down to where sure enough your sons five a side coach was sparing the pair of you, mainly your wife, nervous glances every now and then.
"see? this is why i said i would drop him off and pick him up today. have you been here the whole time?" you raised an eyebrow as your wife shrugged. "parents are allowed to stay."
"parents maybe, not professional footballers." you smiled, waving at leo as he spotted you with the same bright eyed grin that perfectly mirrored your wife.
"you make him nervous because of instead of watching leo you watch him and how he trains the boys. but they are five alexia! this isn't la masia." you teased as the blonde pulled a face, standing to her feet and offering you a hand up as the team dispersed, all running toward their parents.
"no if this was la masia, they would be winning games." alexia mumbled as you shot her a look and pinched her in warning, your sons team on quite the losing streak much to your over achieving high expectations having wifes displeasure.
"again amor, they are five." you reminded quietly as she hummed, leo sprinting over with his little cleats clacking against the pavement. alexia crouched down and braced right as he crash tackled into her, easily picking him up and spinning him around with a kiss to his cheek which was wiped off in seconds.
"you did so good today! i saw your goal." you praised as your son hugged your leg tightly, ruffling his sweaty hair as he beamed up at you, grabbing your hand and chattering away faster than you could even process the words.
"mami can we go kick the ball? i'm not tired yet!" your son begged, eyes looking pleadingly up at the blonde who smiled. "sí, cariño. i just want to go and speak to your coach about something-" you clicked your tongue at her but before you could even utter a word she was gone.
"vamos niño, mami can meet us at the car."
~
you watched on with a soft smile as your wife and son chased and raced around after one another in the park not far from your house, makeshift goals set up using sticks.
"mama! foul!" leo yelled to you from the ground as alexia tripped him, stealing the ball and booting it right into her goal, raising her hands to the sky victoriously. "amor." you cautioned her with a warning glare.
"que? that was clean!" she waved you off, leo already back up and on his feet with a scowl. "foul!" he parroted pointing accusingly at alexia. "foul. penalty kick awarded!" you did your best attempt at a whistle, will cheering and sprinting off to get the ball.
"let him score." you warned your wife once he was out of earshot. "en serio?" the midfielder scoffed in disbelief at the request. "sí alexia, he is five!" you hissed as leo returned, eagerly lining up for the kick.
"vamos mami!" he whined impatiently as you gave your wife a look and she walked off to the goal, standing in as keeper as leo took a few steps back and readied himself, hand shooting up in the air making you grin and alexia hide her smile.
"go!" you clapped, leo lurching forwards and booting the ball which sailed through the air...and right into alexias hands. "no goal!" your wife announced as leo slumped over, scowl returning and kicking at the grass.
"mama i wanna go home." he near levitated to your side, frown still etched into his features. "what! leo-" alexia called out but he was already off, stomping toward the car as you stood.
"see? you could not just let him score? idiota." you smacked her arm and snatched the ball, following after your son as alexia sighed deeply, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
"leo we have to learn to lose cariño!" "i lose every week mami!" alexia winced a little at that as you all got into the car, maybe you had a point.
"lo siento hijo. how about when we get home i teach you a bicycle kick?" "sí sí sí!" "no alexia! he will break his neck!"
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enhani-ki · 23 hours ago
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fuckboy!ni-ki x reader ᡣ𐭩。ꪆৎ ˚⋅
warnings: smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.
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✶ fuckboy!ni-ki likes to lie and waste time.
a game player, smooth talker, and a liar when it suited him.
ni-ki knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted. he'd tell a girl she was the only one, that she was special, that he couldn't stop thinking about her, only to turn around and send the same message to someone else.
when he got what he wanted? he gets bored.
it was always the same: a few weeks, maybe a month if they were lucky, then he'd just start pulling away. no more sweet words, no more playful texts, it's dry responses and distance until they finally took the hint.
girls will cry, get angry, some even tried to plot revenge... but ni-ki? he never felt guilty.
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki doesn't believe in love.
he won't date and won't do relationships. he wasn't interested doing those late-night calls or good-morning texts, and the thought of commitment made him want to laugh.
he just likes a little flirting, a little fun, love songs, fucking then moving on before things got too serious.
they liked the chase, thinking they could be the one to change him, and the idea of being the exception.
but there are no exceptions. he'd rather catch a body than catch feelings for somebody he barely knows.
ni-ki was always clear about what he wanted, even if they refused to believe him.
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki was impatient.
he's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and tight jaw. his fuck buddy is late and he hates waiting. it's not his style to sit around for anyone.
he sighed, running a hand through his hair. then, he spotted a familiar silhouette approaching.
finally.
and without hesitation, he reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into the shadows.
"you took your sweet time." he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear, whispering. "i should make you pay for making me wait, don't you think?" then ni-ki started talking dirty.
and your body in his grasp stiffened.
ni-ki smirked. he loves it when someone gets shy because of him but something was off.
there's no giggle or eager hands slipping on his body.
only silence.
ni-ki pulled back, his eyes locked on your wide, terrified eyes.
you're a face he had never seen before.
"who the fuck are you?!" he blurted out.
"i- i'm sorry!" you stammered, breathing heavily in shock.
ni-ki's mouth opened to say something but before he could, you ran away, you ran so fast that your belongings spilled onto the floor in your rush to escape.
ni-ki cursed under his breath, running a hand down his face.
fuck.
not only he's not gonna have sex but he also accidentally just harassed a complete stranger.
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki got mad, completely ghosting and blocked his fuck buddy's number.
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki wasn't the type to dwell on things. if he ever made a mistake, he moved on. simple.
what happened with you? that bothered him.
maybe it was the way your eyes looked at him, it was pure fear, like he was some kind of monster... or maybe it was because he had never been the kind of guy to force himself onto someone.
he's cocky, sure. shameless, absolutely.
but he never needed to resort to shit like that and now, he just left a random girl traumatized.
great.
ni-ki took your abandoned things from his bag, staring at them in irritation. he could've just tossed this somewhere and let you deal with it, but it's the least he could do, right?
he looked for you everywhere and when he finally spotted you walking down the hall, he didn't hesitate.
"hey."
your body stiffened instantly when you saw him, you gulped and turned to leave.
ni-ki rolled his eyes and reached out, catching your wrist before you could escape. "relax," he sighed. "i'm just here to give you these…"
you hesitated but quickly grabbed your things and muttered, "thanks."
he let go but he's also expecting you to run again though he's not letting you off easily.
his fingers wrapped around your wrist again, "i'm not done..." he said. "why are you in such a hurry?"
"i gotta go…"
"oh, really?" ni-ki scoffed but released his grip. "fine. look, i'm sorry about earlier. i thought you were someone else."
"your girlfriend?"
ni-ki chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "no, i don't do girlfriends." he teased but it wasn't meant to joke or seduce. "you forgive me?"
you smiled slightly before nodding but then you tilted your head, curious. "...but why would you say something like that to someone who isn't your girlfriend?"
he smirked and leaned in again, so close you could smell his cologne.
"mind your own business, won't you?" he said and walked away.
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki found you at his playground.
parties were all the same. loud music, flashing lights, people pressed up against each other like they forgot what personal space was.
ni-ki was used to it, it's his playground.
he's sitting with his friends, a smirk on his face while some girl clung to his arm, twirling her hair and giggling at everything he said, even though he wasn't even trying to be funny.
"so, ni-ki..." she purred, leaning in close, "when are we getting out of here?"
ni-ki exhaled through his nose, he's not in the mood yet and ready to give a half-assed answer until his eyes flickered to the entrance where you walked in.
huh.
you walked in, looking... insanely good wearing a dress that hugged all the right places. it made ni-ki's fuck boy brain short-circuit for a second.
the girl beside him was still talking, but he wasn't listening. his smirk twitched and his interest became completely derailed.
"wait here..." ni-ki muttered, removing the girl's arms off of him without another word.
she sputtered in protest but ni-ki was already gone, slipping through the crowd, with eyes locked on you.
he "accidentally" bumped into you, almost knocking you off balance. his hands instinctively gripped your waist to steady you.
"wow… you're-"
you covered yourself quickly, your arms crossing over your chest, and sent him a glare before he could even think about finishing that sentence
"what do you want?" you asked, unimpressed.
he blinked, momentarily thrown off.
"nothing." he recovered quickly, slipping his hands back into his pockets.
you sighed. "have you seen my friend, f/n?"
ni-ki shook his head. "i have no idea who that is," he admitted, then quickly added, "i'll help you look."
his hand landed on your shoulder but you instantly shrugged it. ni-ki scoffed at your unfriendly action, "seriously?" he asked, rolling his eyes but followed anyway, trailing beside you like he's trying to find his friend too.
he was enjoying himself, honestly.
his eyes kept drifting to you. the way your hips swayed slightly as you walked, the way your hair swung when you turned your head... it was so distracting and ni-ki found himself grinning.
he wasn't even gonna try to flirt anymore, he was just thrilled to be by your side.
you stopped in a less crowded part of the house, scanning the room, then you were pulling at your dress subtly, adjusting the hem like you're clearly uncomfortable.
ni-ki clicked his tongue "w- why are you wearing that if you're uncomfortable?"
you turned to him sharply, eyes narrowing. "why do you care?!"
"why are you so mad at me?"
"'cause i don't know what you're trying to do."
"i'm not trying do do anything to you!"
you glared at him again, adjusting your dress.
"tch." ni-ki removed his jacket and threw it at your face.
"what the hell-"
ni-ki rolled his eyes, already regretting being nice. "wear that, idiot."
you hesitated.
he sighed and turned away, "do whatever you want."
you slipped the jacket over your shoulders then ni-ki peeked at you from the corner of his eyes where he saw you practically drowning in his jacket. you looked so tiny in it, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling.
you finally spotted your friend near the drinks table, "f/n!" you called out, relieved.
your friend turned with a smile then her eyes immediately widened when she saw who was standing beside you.
"oh. my. God." she gasped, barely even acknowledging you because she's looking at ni-ki.
ni-ki smirked at her reaction, clearly used to it. "hi. what's up?"
you friend actually looked starstruck for a second before shaking herself out of it.
"why are you with him?" she whisper-yelled at you, leaning in like you just brought home a stray cat but the dangerous kind.
"he just helped me find you." you replied, and without another word, you grabbed her arm and practically dragged her toward the exit.
"bye, ni-ki!" your friend waved at him.
ni-ki chuckled, grinning while watching the two of you rush off.
as soon as you and your friend stepped outside, she immediately started her interrogation, eyes gleaming.
"okay," she breathed, grabbing your shoulders. "do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?!"
you groaned. "it's not what you think!"
she gasped, dramatically covering her mouth. "wait… did you do it?"
you blinked. "what do you mean by it?"
she wiggled her eyebrows and giggled, playfully slapping your arm. "you know what I mean~"
you eyes widened in disgust. "i would never do it with anyone!"
she laughed as you pushed her lightly, still giggling like a schoolgirl.
"okay, okay, i believe you..." she teased. "but still, damn. ni-ki even gave you his jacket?"
she said, snatching the sleeve of the jacket and sniffed it.
you grabbed it back.
she gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "it smells expensive… sexy, actually."
you gave her a disgusted look again and tightened the jacket around you, trying to ignore the fact that, yeah, it did smell good.
"don't get so weird about this." you warned.
she only laughed, linking her arm through yours. "now tell me more about you and ni-ki."
"there is no me and ni-ki!"
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki suddenly wants to prove that he wasn't actually the asshole you thought he was but ended messing it up.
he told himself it was over. he gave back your stuff, apologized (which, honestly, he never did for anyone), even gave you his jacket, and that should've been the end of it.
he tried not to be pushy 'cause he knew better now, but he still found ways to be around you. if he saw you at school, he'd just give a casual nod. if you were in the cafeteria, he'd sit nearby, pretending it was a coincidence. and if you caught him looking, you'd glare and he would quickly look away.
he was used to people chasing him, used to girls who always wants something from him, not someone who wanted nothing to do with him. and when you made it clear, he said "you really think the worst of me, huh?"
you crossed your arms. "can you blame me?"
ni-ki huffed a laugh. "i don't even do shit to you."
but then, you might just be playing hard to get, right?
he smirked, grabbing your phone and held it high.
"ni-ki, i swear- give it back!"
you jumped, reaching for it, but he was way taller. he tilted his head, watching you struggle, and then...
fuck it.
because he's ni-ki, he's reckless, stupid and didn't think things through... he kissed you.
it was quick, barely even a brush of lips.
he pulled back, expecting a reaction, but not the one he got.
your face twisted in disbelief before you hit him.
you smacked his chest repeatedly, pushing him, "what is wrong with you?! that was my first kiss, stupid!"
ni-ki's eyes widened. "wait- what? seriously?"
you fought back your tears, shoving him one last time before storming off. "don't talk to me ever again!"
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki is doing something completely out of character.
he didn't plan to kiss you. it just happened like some dumb, impulsive thought he acted on before his brain could catch up.
he wanted to reach out but what the hell was he even supposed to say?
"hey, my bad for stealing your first kiss lol?"
"i didn't think it'd be that big of a deal."
"wait, you really never kissed anyone before?"
shit, no. that was all dumb as hell.
for the next few days, ni-ki is not being himself.
he forgot his usual girls, he hadn't even been with anyone ever since he met you.
"dude, what's up with you?" one of his friends asked.
ni-ki just shrugged, flipping his phone in his hands. "nothing."
you were avoiding him like he was some virus. you look the other way when he walked past or really refusing to even glance in his direction.
so, fine. he swallowed his pride and showed up at your house.
you opened the door, immediately frowning when you saw him. "what do you want?"
ni-ki exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
"i'm sorry, alright?" he said quickly. "i was being an idiot, i didn't think, and..."
"you're apologizing?"
ni-ki groaned, shoving his hands in his pockets. "yeah..."
you crossed your arms, unimpressed. "took you long enough."
he sighed, stepping closer. "i didn't know it was your first kiss, alright?"
you rolled your eyes, "whatever."
then ni-ki hugged you.
you gasped, trying to make him let go. "what- what are you doing?!"
ni-ki just chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder. "saying sorry?"
"by hugging me?!"
"would you rather i kiss you again?"
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"
he laughed again, pulling back slightly to look at your flustered expression.
you scowled. "you're such a pervert."
his smirk returned, teasing. "you liked being hugged though."
you smacked his chest hard. "GO HOME, NI-KI."
he grinned, backing away "but we're good now, right?"
you didn't answer, just slammed the door in his face.
ni-ki chuckled to himself, breathing in relief as he walked away.
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki is trying his best to please you... and hold himself back from being a fuck boy.
ni-ki has a serious problem. these days, he found himself doing things that were completely out of character.
like waiting outside your classroom when he swore he was just going to pass by, remembering your usual order at the café near school and handing it to you in front of everyone like it was no big deal, and making sure you got home safe after study sessions.
he wasn't even trying to get anything out of it because for once in his life, he actually wanted to do things the right way. he wanted to get a girlfr- girl friend. a friend that's a girl. that's all.
totally normal. nothing weird.
but it's so frustrating because you weren't even making it easy for him.
you still roll your eyes at him when he tried to be nice. you still gave him unimpressed looks when he offered to carry your things. and the other day, when he casually said you looked cute, you hit him with a deadpan, "what do you want?"
like, damn. he was actually trying here.
then… you'll also do things that completely messed him up.
your cheeks puff out whenever you concentrate, making him desperately want to bite them.
or how we would notice your tits slightly jiggle and move whenever you're running or simply writing. suddenly, he would have to leave the room for fresh air.
when you got mad at him, all fiery and stubborn, he had the worst urge to just shut you up, not in a way that was appropriate for a friend.
ni-ki groaned, running a hand down his face.
his first thought?
"God, i wanna touch."
his second thought?
"i need help."
you left something at school. suddenly, he showed up at your door, handing your things back along with a bottle of your favorite drink.
you looked at him confused, ni-ki rolled his eyes, pushing the bag into your hands.
"you… bought this for me?"
"don't be weird!" he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "just take it."
you stared at him for a long moment before stepping aside. "you wanna come in?"
ni-ki shook his head, he knew himself. he knew that the second he got too comfortable, his usual instincts would kick in... he would start flirting, the way he always found a way to get what he wanted.
instead of smirking and stepping inside like he usually would, he just shoved his hands in his pockets, exhaling.
"nah," he said. "i'll just see you tomorrow, okay?"
a small smile formed at your lips. "thanks, ni-ki."
he turned away quickly, waving a hand over his shoulder while his heart raced so fast. "welcome."
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki who can't figure out if you're just a damsel in distress or actually bossing him around
ni-ki likes to think he's a pretty capable guy. he's used to girls needing him for things... carrying their bags, opening their drinks, giving them rides home. he didn't mind. it boosted his ego.
but every time you asked for his help, he couldn't tell if you were actually helpless or if you're just treating him like some personal assistant.
you handed him your backpack without a word while texting on your phone.
ni-ki blinked. "uh… am i supposed to carry this?"
"yeah." you replied without even looking at him.
"…please?"
you gave him a look. "i could say please, but you're already holding it."
then later you stared at a vending machine like it had personally offended you.
"what, it didn't give you your snack?"
"no..." you huffed, crossing your arms. "it won't take my bill."
ni-ki sighed, pulling out his own money and sliding in a new bill. the machine beeped, and he pressed your selection.
the the snack dropped, you grabbed it, turned on your heel, and walked away.
the way you pouted when you struggled with something, how your brows furrowed in concentration, the tiny pleased smile you gave when things worked out in your favor... it pleased him too.
so when you showed up next to him one day, shaking your phone with an exaggerated sigh, ni-ki already knew what was coming.
"my phone is dead," you said.
he smiled "finally."
you glared, "give me your charger."
ni-ki scoffed in disbelief. "you don't even pretend to be polite anymore!"
you pouted. "please?"
his eye twitched. you're so annoying. cute but mostly annoying.
ni-ki pulled out his charger and handed it to you. "i swear, don't lose it."
"i never lose things." you said, already plugging it in.
"liar." he shook his head. "you lost your AirPods case last week."
you laughed and waved him off. "that was one time."
ni-ki smiled, he felt that stupid warmth creep up his neck again when he heard your laugh.
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki asked you to work out with him.
you regret this.
you had never worked out before but when ni-ki said, "come on, i'll go easy on you." you refused to back down.
big mistake.
now, here you are, struggling to breathe properly while ni-ki, just finished another set of weights, stood there looking like some Greek god.
sweat clung to his skin, his black shirt sticking slightly to his toned torso. his hair was pushed back from his forehead and sharp jawline got even more defined.
you gulped.
then he caught you staring. his lips curled into a grin. "like what you see?"
you quickly looked away. "shut up."
he only laughed.
later, back in your room, you are dying.
your muscles ached in places you didn't even know existed. you lay on your bed, groaning while ni-ki sat next to you, arms crossed.
"you're overreacting." he said.
"you tricked me," you accused. "you said you'd go easy."
"i did!" he defended, snickering.
you groaned again, moving slightly only to wince at the soreness in your legs.
ni-ki smiled. "want a massage?"
you looked at him. "you give massages?"
he smirked. "i'm really good with my hands."
you squinted and he laughed. ni-ki began to straddle your back, hands pressing into your tense shoulders.
the moment he started kneading your muscles, your body melted.
"oh… that's so good…" you whispered, voice airy.
ni-ki chuckled. "i am good, huh?"
"ye- yeah, it feels so good." you mumbled, already slipping into a relaxed haze.
ni-ki's hands stilled for a second.
your voice sounded… weirdly suggestive.
he bit back a laugh. he knew you were just tired, but hearing you say that in such a soft, breathy tone? hmm.
he kept massaging, feeling the tension slowly leave your body. it wasn't long before your breathing evened out.
"…did you just fall asleep?" he muttered.
silence.
ni-ki shook his head, you looked so peaceful, face slightly turned to the side, lips parted slightly.
his eyes trailed to your exposed neck, ni-ki's heart pounded while reaching out, gently brushing your hair aside.
and before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pressing soft, featherlight kisses along the curve of your nape up to your neck.
your body reacted on instinct, tilting slightly, giving him more access.
a soft, sleepy moan escaped your lips.
ni-ki's eyes widened, heart slamming against his ribs.
"…a- are you awake?" he asked.
silence.
panic surged through him. he quickly grabbed the blanket and draped it over you, standing up so fast he nearly tripped.
ni-ki ran home and the second his front door swung open, he stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind him. his fingers went straight to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging at it while his mind still clouded with you.
the soft moan you let out, the way your body naturally tilted into his touch, the warmth of your skin beneath his lips.
his jaw clenched as he glanced down at cock, his sweatpants doing a poor job at hiding the evidence of just how badly he was losing control.
ni-ki groaned, balling his fists, fighting the instinct to just take care of it.
he grabbed his phone, scrolling through his contacts.
the phone barely rang before a familiar, flirty voice answered.
"hey, ni-"
"how fast can you get here?"
the girl on the other end giggled. "mhm, about 30, 40 minutes-"
click. that's too late.
ni-ki exhaled sharply, tossing his phone onto his bed. his hand ran through his hair, feeling the frustration throughout his body. he pulled his sweatpants back up, shaking off the temptation.
and even though he had just worked out, he grabbed a set of weights and dropped to the floor, blasting music at full volume.
push-ups. sit-ups. anything to burn the tension off.
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki looked like shit the next day
you burst out laughing the moment you saw ni-ki.
he looked rough. dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess, slouched in his chair like he barely made it out of bed.
"what happened to you?" you grinned, poking his arm.
ni-ki groaned, brushing you off. "it's your fault."
"wha- my fault? what did i do?"
he turned his head away, eyes shutting like he couldn't even look at you right now. "just… drop it."
you leaned in, pushing him playfully. "come on, tell meee." you pouted. "fine, then at least let me make it up to you! what can I do?"
ni-ki scoffed, tilting his head back against the chair. "there's nothing you can do."
when class ended and you followed him towards the gym storage room.
"ni-ki!" you called, slipping inside right behind him.
he turned around just as the door slammed shut. the click of the lock echoed through the small space.
"…are you kidding me?" ni-ki muttered.
you tried the handle. locked.
ni-ki groaned, he sat and started rubbing his face. "i really don't have the energy for this right now."
you stepped in front of him, with hands on your hips. "you seriously won't tell me what's wrong?"
and instead of answering, ni-ki suddenly reached out, gripping your waist and pulling you close.
you froze as he rested his head against your stomach, arms wrapped around you.
"just shut up, will you?" he murmured, voice muffled against your shirt.
you brought your hand to his hair, your fingers brushing the strands. you began to comb through them slowly, your touch gentle and rhythmic.
his body relaxed against you, the tension in his grip softening. ni-ki hummed.
you began to smile while playing with his hair, twirling a few strands between your fingers before smoothing them out.
it's sweet... but your legs were starting to ache.
"okay... maybe just a little longer." you thought, shifting your weight slightly to ease the pressure on your feet.
ni-ki didn't move. if anything, his grip on your hips tightened, like a sleepy child clutching a favorite pillow.
your legs began to tremble faintly, you hoped ni-ki would notice.
but nothing, he was like a cat curled up in the perfect sunbeam.
you sighed quietly, glancing down at him. your hands still in his hair as you debated your options. "maybe if i lean a little, he'll..."
ni-ki let out a low hum, his grip loosening just slightly as he shifted his head. for a split second, you thought your prayer had been answered, until he wrapped his arms fully around your waist, pulling you down to his lap.
"ni-ki!" you hissed, barely catching yourself with your hands as you stumble forward.
his eyes cracked open, a sleepy smirk tugging at his lips. "why are you so tense?"
"because you're treating me like a body pillow!"
"you're comfy."
you groaned, glaring at the top of his head. ni-ki added "you should've leave me alone." the smirk of his returned as his arms tightened around you once more.
"you know..." he began, "let's just skip class, you wanna sleep with me?"
your eyes widened, your brain short-circuiting at his words. "wha-what do you mean sleep with you?" you stuttered, leaning back instinctively.
ni-ki flicked your forehead lightly, his smirk growing. "not like that, you idiot." he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "i meant just sleeping. me, you, sleeping here. eyes closed. that's it."
you laughed awkwardly. "right..."
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki realized that he doesn't want to be your friend.
ni-ki got annoyed the second you started talking about jungwon. he had just introduced him but he noticed the way your eyes stared at his friend.
ni-ki subtly stepped in front of your view, blocking jungwon from your sight.
"hey! move!" you hissed, trying to peer around him.
and instead of budging, ni-ki covered your eyes with his hands.
"what the?!" you immediately grabbed at his wrists, struggling.
he kept his hands firmly in place, waiting until his jungwon hyung was completely out of sight.
and when he finally let go, you blinked, looking around. "where is he?"
ni-ki smirked. "i killed him."
you smacked his arm.
later, he was sitting on his bed while you lounged across from him, "he was really nice," you said, kicking your feet. "and kinda cute too, like a cat don't you think?"
"who do you like better, me or him?"
you blinked, confused. "what kind of question is that?"
"just answer."
"i like you," you said casually. "as my friend."
ni-ki scoffed. maybe he did want to be your friend before but that isn't the case anymore.
"i'm not your friend."
"yes, you are."
ni-ki grabbed your face with both hands, tilting your head up before slamming his lips onto yours, aggressively like he was trying to erase every thought you had of jungwon. "friends don't do this."
rough and desperate, his fingers pressed into your cheeks as he devoured your mouth, refusing to let you breathe while angling your head exactly how he wanted..
you gripped his shoulders, a muffled gasp escaping your lips as he deepened the kiss.
but ni-ki wasn't just kissing you, he was already claiming you.
he groaned against your lips, hands sliding to the back of your neck. holding you in place like he didn't want you slipping away and the second your lips parted slightly, he will deepen the kiss even more, biting at your bottom lip like he wanted to ruin you.
and when ni-ki finally pulled away, his lips were already swollen.
"you were saying?" ni-ki muttered, still holding your face.
you stared at him, breathless, lips tingling.
"…huh?"
he smirked, wiping his thumb over your lower lip before leaning in again.
"that's what i thought."
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki can't keep his hands off you.
you used to slap his hands away.
his arm over your shoulder? gone.
sneaking his hands around your waist? not happening.
grabbing your wrist to pull you closer? absolutely not.
but after the kiss, you started letting him and ni-ki noticed... of course, he did.
the first time you didn't push him away when he rested an arm around your shoulders, he almost did a double take.
you also didn't immediately escape when he pulled you onto his lap and when he linked his fingers with yours? he was expecting you to smack his hands, but you didn't.
"you're getting too comfortable," you muttered, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.
ni-ki only smirked, giving your hand a squeeze.
"you're spoiling me, you know." he murmured against your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "if you keep this up, i'll start thinking you actually like me."
you scoffed, pushing his face half-heartedly.
ni-ki chuckled, leaning in like he was about to kiss you again. you froze, expecting the warmth of his lips- but he only brushed his nose against yours.
he pulled back, satisfied at the way you reacted. "see?"
your cheeks burned, frustration bubbling in your chest. you freed yourself from his grip and walked away, annoyed.
ni-ki watched you go with amusement. "where are you going?"
"far away from you."
✶ fuckboy!ni-ki ready to be yours.
"go put on a nice dress." ni-ki said over the phone.
you raised a brow. "why?"
he grinned. "because we're going to a restaurant."
you narrowed your eyes. "we are?"
"yeah." replied. "i made a reservation."
you got ready anyway. and when you stepped out in your dress, ni-ki scanned you up and down, "pretty." he murmured, before grabbing your hand and leading you outside.
before you both enter the restaurant, he suddenly intertwined his fingers with yours, "this is a date, okay?" he said, watching your reaction.
you blinked, caught off guard. "a what?"
ni-ki just grinned and dragged you inside.
your eyes widened as you looked around the table. all your favorite foods were there, plated beautifully under the dim, warm lights.
you turned to him, speechless.
ni-ki simply pulled out a chair for you, nodding at the seat.
the dinner was nice. way more than nice. he talked, he listened, and laughed with you.
"is this real? are you actually asking me out?"
"yes," ni-ki said, nodding. "i'm serious."
your chest tightened. you wanted to believe him but a part of you was scared.
what if he change his mind? what if you let yourself fall, only for him to break your heart once you bit into it?
ni-ki noticed your hesitation. he hated that you had to doubt him but he can't also blame why, though he wasn't just playing around.
he reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips. "just a bit more of your trust, okay?" he whispered against your skin.
you stared at him for a moment before finally leaning in to hug him.
he held you close, his lips curving against your shoulder. "you were mine the first time i kissed you."
you pulled back and laughed, playfully slapping his arm as you remembered how he stole your first kiss.
at his house, ni-ki captured your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. his mouth moved against yours, savoring every moment. he then pressed soft kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.
he found that sensitive spot that made you moan, he latched on and sucked harder, relishing the sound of your pleasure.
ni-ki started guiding you towards his bedroom, never breaking the kiss. once inside, he gently laid you down the bed, his body still pressed against yours.
he looked up at you with intense desire in his eyes, he asked breathlessly, "can i?" his eyes flicked down to your heaving chest.
you nodded, granting him permission. ni-ki didn't hesitate, slipping his hands under your shirt to fondle and tease your sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.
you arched into his touch, panting softly. he swallowed down your needy moans as he devoured your lips again, his tongue delving deep to clash against yours.
"friends won't do this, right?" ni-ki gasped between heated kisses. he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside. his mouth moved, licking and sucking at your bare breasts.
your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him against you as he lavished all attention on your tits.
then ni-ki trailed kisses down to your stomach. hooking his fingers in your panties, he groaned at feeling soaked folds. "fuck, you're so wet for me already," he murmured, tracing his finger along your slit.
he buried his face between your thighs and began eating you out with your panties on. the fabric added delicious friction when his mouth sucked the sensitive bud, lapping at your clit.
you cried out, ni-ki removed your panties. the first swipe of his tongue directly on your pussy made you both moan. you taste even better than he imagined.
ni-ki growled. diving in for more like a starving man. his talented mouth had you writhing and gasping within moments.
he couldn't help but picture how tightly your virgin pussy would squeeze his cock when he finally got to slide inside you. he just know he wouldn't last long once he felt your walls gripping him.
his tongue darted in and out of your slick folds, making you to tug on his hair harshly.
ni-ki's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs as he licked and sucked your clit with sloppy, desperate motions. sounds of your moans and gasps only served to fuel his own growing arousal with every passing second.
but he promised himself he could wait, for now, he was content to focus solely on pleasuring you, determined to make you feel as good as possible.
he sealed his lips around your clit and suckled hard, pressing two fingers inside as listened to the squelching sounds of your tight cunt.
you cried out, your back arching off the bed as he pumped them in and out. "ni-ki, i...i think I'm going to...ahhh!" your words dissolved into a wordless moan as he curled his fingers just right.
soon, your thighs clamped around his head as you came, your pussy clenching down on his fingers in rhythm.
ni-ki crawled up your trembling body to capture your lips in a deep kiss. "you taste so good," he murmured against your mouth. "i can't wait to be inside you." he said as he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the thick head of his cock at your wet folds "i'll be gentle, baby."
"tell me if it hurts too much." he added, slowly pushing forward when he felt your walls relaxed slightly.
you let out whimpers and sharp gasps, the sting of pain clouded your eyes with tears. ni-ki paused, giving you a moment to adjust to the new feeling of being filled inside completely.
the sensation of your pussy squeezing him was unlike anything else. he wanted to fuck the shit out of you, claim you so thoroughly that you'd never forget your first time but he loves you so he has to be patient and gentle with your innocent body.
your whimpers and moans filled the room, ni-ki's heart swelled seeing you like this, breathless, desperate... he can't believe that your body is his for the taking.
your cunt began to welcome him inch by inch.
"fuck, you feel amazing." he groaned, fighting the urge to hammer into you wildly.
starting with shallow thrusts, he gradually increased his pace, still mindful of your pain. and as ni-ki doing it deeper, he leaned down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. "you're taking my cock so well..." he praised. "so fucking sexy."
your eyes fluttered shut and you tilted your head back in bliss, lost to the new pleasure and pressure building inside you. ni-ki felt your walls fluttering around him erratically. "ni-ki, i think- i'm- again..."
he knew you were close.
he increased his pace, deep strokes hitting that special spot inside you with every thrust. his hands gripped your hips enough to bruise as he fucked his dick into you, grunting with the effort of holding himself back from his own release.
and with a strangled cry, you came undone beneath him. ni-ki followed soon after with a moan of your name, pulling out before spilling his cum all over your thighs.
after cleaning up, ni-ki crawled back into bed and pulled you to his chest, kissing your face and neck but you moved and positioned yourself in his hips, where his hardening cock already poking on your sensitive, beaten entrance. "ready again?" he chuckled, wrapping his arms on your waist, his face nuzzling on your neck.
you giggled and sank down on him with a gasp. ni-ki groaned at the slick heat enveloping him again, making love with more confidence this time around.
rounds later, you're all sweaty and tired. ni-ki wondered dazedly if he'd turned his sweet, innocent girl into a sex addict. "you're so good, ni-ki..." you said, kissing him. to ni-ki, you looked like a sex god, your lips kiss-swollen, chest full of hickeys, your hair is a mess...
completely wrecked by him.
he wrapped his arms around your limp form and rolled to the side, careful not to dislodge from where he was still buried inside you.
and you're there thinking about worshipping ni-ki's body for the rest of your life.
"i'm going to fuck you all over again in the shower." he declared with a wicked grin. you answered with a moan that tells him it sounds like the perfect plan.
never knew sex could hit this different when it was out of love.
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a/n: this is too long lol! enjoy <3
read Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend
read Nishimura Riki as your classmate
read part-timers!ni-ki x reader
read part-timers!ni-ki x reader part 2
read snitch - reader x ni-ki
read touché - ni-ki x reader
read touché - ni-ki x reader part 2
read exes - ni-ki x reader
477 notes · View notes
inkedinshadows · 1 day ago
Text
The Value of Love
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Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader
A/N: Thank you @batboyslutt for this request! I had so many different ideas for it, but unfortunately I could choose only one. I hope you enjoy it! 🫶🏻 and sorry for posting it later than usual, but I'm writing these day by day
Prompts: "We shouldn't be doing this. This is wrong." + "Why can't you just admit the truth?" + angst + smut + forbidden romance because of Rhys
Warnings: smut, p in v, creampie, bit of miscommunication, arguments
Word count: 1.5k
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Azriel’s kisses grew more insistent as his mouth trailed down to your neck, nipping at the soft skin there. Your eyes were closed, your hands tangled in his hair, sliding down his back, holding onto him like you never wanted to let go.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbled against your skin, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t even lift his head from the crook of your neck. “This is wrong.”
So he’d said—multiple times already.
You rolled your eyes. “Azriel,” you groaned. You cupped his cheeks and forced him to meet your gaze. “If you say that one more time while you’re balls-deep inside me, I am going to leave. Is that clear?”
Azriel’s hips faltered mid-thrust, then stilled, though he didn’t pull out. His breath was ragged, his eyes wide, his hair thoroughly mussed from your fingers running through it.
For a moment, you just stared at each other.
It was an argument you’d had more than once before, and you knew this wouldn’t be the last time. But for him to bring it up during sex? That, you would not stand for.
Azriel closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He lowered his head to rest his forehead on your chest, his breath warm against your flushed skin. “I’m sorry, princess.”
You sighed. Careful not to brush against his slumped wings, you wrapped your arms around him and tugged him closer.
“Let’s not talk about this right now,” you murmured. These were some of the last few moments you’d have together before he left for the continent, and you had no intention of wasting them on the same old conversation. “I think we were in the middle of something.”
Azriel lifted his head to look at you, gratitude flickering in his gaze before a smirk bloomed on his beautiful face. “Yes, we were.”
He rolled his hips once, driving himself deeper inside you, and you gasped softly. From there, it was easy to forget the last couple of minutes and focus on nothing but each other.
Azriel resumed his movements, thrusting into you with slow, deep strokes that drew groans from both of you. Each sound was swallowed by a kiss—lips and tongues eager to meet, hands wandering across hard planes and soft curves. Your bodies moved together as if they were made for this, as if you and he were the only beings in the whole world and nothing else mattered.
Pleasure coiled tight in your core, ready to snap with each deliberate thrust. A whispered plea was all Azriel needed to pick up the pace. He brushed his lips up your jaw to your ear, murmuring quiet encouragements and tender words that made your heart swell.
With a breathy moan, you squirmed beneath him, fingers digging into the muscles of his arms as pleasure overwhelmed you. Azriel was close behind you, your release tipping him over the edge as well. He rocked his hips a few more times before spilling himself inside you, holding himself there for a moment, panting against your ear as you both slowly came down from your high.
You turned your head to capture his lips in another kiss, trying to convey everything you felt for him through that simple gesture—the affection, the desire, the emotions you still hadn’t voiced aloud.
Azriel kissed you back, pressing you into the mattress before rolling onto his side. He opened his arms, and you immediately snuggled closer, curling up against his chest. He kissed the top of your head, and for a few moments, you simply lay there, basking in the quiet afterglow.
But as the minutes ticked by and the lingering passion faded, his words crept back into your mind. You tried to push them away, to focus on the steady rise and fall of his chest and the lazy strokes of his hand along your back, but they refused to leave.
You hesitated briefly before speaking, your voice quiet. “Why can’t you just admit the truth?”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s just…” You searched for the right words, trying not to sound too confrontational. “You always say you don’t want my brother to know because he’s very protective of me, but I think there’s more to it.”
Azriel hummed, seemingly unconvinced. “And what do you think it is, then?”
“I think you’re scared,” you admitted. “Scared of how he’d react if he found out. That he’d tell you you don’t deserve to be with me and that I should find someone else.”
His hand stilled where it had been tracing slow circles on your hip. His expression was unreadable, his golden-brown eyes fixed on you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he pulled away. Sitting up against the headboard, his wings stretched wide behind him, casting shadows over the sheets.
“That’s not what this is about,” he said. His voice was firm, but his gaze didn’t meet yours.
You pushed yourself up as well, keeping your eyes on him. You had thought about this for a long time now—how your brother would react if he knew about your relationship. You weren’t naive. You knew Rhys would be furious at first. But you also knew he would come around and realize that his little sister was grown, that he couldn’t keep males away from her forever. That she could choose for herself who to love.
“Az,” you called, taking his hand in yours. You waited until he finally looked at you again before you continued. “I know telling him might seem terrifying, but Rhys would be happy to know it’s you. You’re his best friend, and I’m his sister. If we make each other happy, why would he be against it?”
Azriel shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
That excuse again. It’s not that simple. You make it sound so easy. You don’t understand. He wouldn’t understand. Always the same words, but never a real answer.
And you were growing tired of it.
Frustration flared hot in your chest as you pulled your hand back.
“Then explain it to me,” you demanded. Your tone was sharper than intended, but you didn’t particularly care anymore. “Because from where I’m standing, the only other explanation is that you value Rhysand’s friendship more than… whatever this thing between us is.”
Azriel’s brow knitted together, his expression torn between confusion and disbelief. “You know what this is, princess. You know I love you.”
“So you’ve said.”
The words hung heavy in the air. You saw the flicker of hurt in his hazel eyes, and your chest ached in response. But you didn’t take it back. You couldn’t.
“What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was quieter now, cautious.
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze and push the words out. “It means that saying the words isn’t enough. You have to show me. And right now, you’re not doing a great job.”
Azriel inhaled sharply, as if stung. “At least I love you.”
The moment the words left his lips, regret flashed across his face. But it was too late.
They landed like a blade to the chest, slicing through the last thread of your patience.
“Y/N, I—”
You batted away the hand he reached toward you and instead got up to collect the clothes scattered on the floor.
“I do love you, Azriel,” you said, voice tight as you yanked your underwear back on. “But do you want to know why I never told you?”
He looked startled by your declaration at first, but he quickly nodded when he realized you were waiting for an answer.
“Because I didn’t want to get hurt,” you admitted, fingers swiftly buttoning up your shirt. "Because you want to keep this a secret, while I think that what we have is worth so much more than just a few stolen moments in the dark.” You slipped into your trousers, your eyes still on him. “Because I’m tired of hiding from my friends and family just because you’re scared of how my brother might react.”
Azriel said nothing. His jaw was tense, his gaze locked onto the crumpled blankets, refusing to meet your gaze.
Despite the ache in your heart, you stepped back toward the door.
“I won’t hide anymore,” you went on. “Not when it makes you miserable, but you refuse to change it. It's making me miserable too.” You let out a deep breath. “You have to make a choice, Azriel. But if you really love me like you say you do… then it should be an easy one.”
Your fingers curled around the doorknob. Still, he didn’t look at you—didn’t try to talk you out of it, to convince you to stay, to stop you from leaving.
Your blood boiled in your veins.
“Good luck on your mission,” you spat, slamming the door behind you.
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Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret
1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness
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ms-demeanor · 2 days ago
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I'm not the most security savvy but two-factor authentication makes me deeply suspicious. Is it actually more secure or is it just annoying? Especially the ones that send a code to your phone that pops up in your notifications.
It is genuinely, massively, TREMENDOUSLY more secure to use 2FA/MFA than to not use it.
One of our clients is currently under attack by a group that appears to be using credential stuffing; they are making educated guesses about the accounts they're trying to lot into based on common factors showing up in the credentials in years of pastes and breaches and leaks. Like, let's say it's a professional arborist's guild and their domain is arborist.tree and they've had three hundred members who have had their credentials compromised in the last ten years and the people looking at all the passwords associated with arborist.tree noticed that the words "arboreal" and "conifer" and "leaf" and "branch" show up over and over and over again in the passwords for the members of the professional arborist's guild.
So they can make an educated guess for how to log in to accounts belonging to the tree-loving tree lover's club, combine that with the list of legitimate emails, and go to town.
And they are in fact going to town. We're getting between 1000 and 4000 login attempts per hour. It's been happening for a couple weeks.
And every single one of those attempts is failing - in spite of some pretty poor password practices that believe me, I have been doing some talking about - as a result of having MFA enforced for the entire group. They all use an app that is synced to their individual accounts with a mobile device, except that sometimes you have trouble getting a code when you're up in a tree so some of them have physical MFA tokens.
People try to sign into my tumblr sometimes. To those people I say: lol, good luck, I couldn't guess my own password with a gun to my head. But if I *did* have some password that was, like "tiny-bastard-is#1" they would also need access to my email address because I've got MFA set up on tumblr. And to THAT I say: lol, good luck, it's complex passwords and MFA all the way down.
Of the types of MFA that most people will run across, the most secure to least secure hierarchy goes physical token>app based one-time-passwords>tie between email and SMS. Email and SMS are less preferred because email is relatively easy to capture and open in transit and cellphone SIMs can be cloned to capture your text messages. But if you are using email or SMS for your authentication you are still miles and miles and miles ahead of people who are not using any kind of authentication.
MFA is, in fact, so effective that I only advise people to turn it on if they are 100% sure that they will be able to access the account if they lose access to the device that had the authenticator on it. You usually can do this by saving a collection of recovery codes someplace safe (I recommend doing this in the secure notes section of your password manager on the entry for the site in question - if this is not a feature that your password manager has, I recommend that you get a better password manager, and the password manager I recommend is bitwarden).
A couple weeks ago I needed to get into a work account that I had created in 2019. In 2022, my boss had completely taken me off of managing that service and had his own account, so I deleted it from my authenticator. Then in 2024 my boss sold the business but didn't provide MFA for a ton of the accounts we've got. I was able to get back into my account because five years earlier I had taken a photo of the ten security codes from the company and saved them in a folder on my desktop called "work recovery codes." If you are going to use MFA, it is VITALLY IMPORTANT that you save recovery codes for the accounts you're authenticating someplace that you'll be able to find them, because MFA is so secure that the biggest problem with it is locking people out of their accounts.
In any kind of business context, I think MFA should be mandatory. No question.
For personal accounts, I think you should be pointed and cautious where you apply it, and always leave yourself another way in. There are SO MANY stories about people having their phones wiped or stolen or destroyed and losing MFA with the device because they didn't have a backup of the app or hadn't properly transferred it to a new device.
But it's also important to note that MFA is not a "fix all security forever" thing - I've talked about session hijacking here and the way you most often see MFA defeated is by tricking someone into logging in to a portal that gives them access to your cookies. This is usually done by phishing and sending someone a link to a fake portal.
That is YET ANOTHER reason that you should be using a good password manager that allows you to set the base domain for the password you're using so that you can be sure you're not logging in to a faked portal. If your password manager doesn't have that feature (setting the domain where you can log in to the base domain) then I recommend that you get a better password manager (get bitwarden.)
In 2020 my terrible boss wanted me to write him a book about tech that he could have run off at a vanity press and could give to prospect customers as a business card. That was a terrible idea, but I worked on the book anyway and started writing it as a book about security for nontechnical people. I started out with a very simple statement:
If every one of our customers did what we recommend in the first four chapters of this book (make good backups, use a password manager and complex unique passwords, enable MFA, and learn how to avoid phishing), we would go out of business, because supporting problems that come from those four things is about 90-95% of our work.
So yes, absolutely, please use MFA. BUT! Save your recovery codes.
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servicpop · 2 days ago
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short n' sweet ♡ valentines day special                            adrien ( delinquent oc ) x student president m reader
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ⓘ fluff fluff fluff ! jealous adrien , reader gets confessed to by a girl
A day where cupid strings his bow and aims his arrow at couples is the day you spend the most time stringing up heart decorations around the school. Its only a few small splashes of pink ribbons and red hearts since Valentines isn't a huge thing—some people simply don't enjoy it as much as Christmas or others—but it's a nice opportunity to liven up the school with some fun flare.
For the most part, you can see cheesy couples receive bouquets neatly arranged into something pretty for their partner or love letters being handed out the old-fashioned way. You weren't a big celebrator seeing as you didn't have a romantic partner. Of course the occasional chocolates being given to friends was a tradition you practised when nobody bothered to give you a flower or a sweet confession.
But this year was different.
After finishing the decorations, you took the time to wander the grounds before returning to your councillor room. It was early enough for the walk to be rather peaceful with the occasional wave to people you knew when they walked by. Reaching the room you, place your hand on the doorknob, twisting it until it makes that click before a hand plants on your shoulder.
“Been awhile.”
You turn your head to see him in the flesh. Adrien, with that shit-eating grin. It was completely out of character for him to show up so early—or show up at all. That fact alone sent shivers down your spine. A coincidence that he shows up bright and early on valentines day?
“Bit late but,” Adrien takes a moment to exhale before his eyes meet yours.
“Will you be my valentines?”
You stand there, blankly staring at him. No flowers, no chocolates and certainly no handwritten love letter stamped with a wax seal as you were wishing for. He couldn't have been this unromantic. For all you knew, Adrien was just some ill-mannered guy who weaseled his way into your life thinking he had you wrapped around his finger just because you two 'hooked up' underneath the staircase.
“No.” Short and sharp; unintentional or not. Sure you liked him, a little more than you'd ever wanted to admit, but Valentines was meant to be unrealistically romantic, a day where you can feel like you're living in those old romance films.
“What?” You could hear the confusion in Adrien's voice as he watches you brush past him and slam the door infront of his face, drowning out his complaints through the door.
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That whole ordeal in the morning definitely wilted your mood. The entire morning session of classes felt like a drag as if time was purposefully going slower each time you glanced at the clock.
You were probably the first person to leave the classroom when you were dismissed, rushing out to your locker to reunite with your friends in hopes of charging your social battery.
“Hey— prez? I have, um, something for you.” The nickname felt like deja vu, like you've been called it countless times by a certain someone. But it wasn't him; it was a girl around your age or even younger. In her hands was a square, pink box with 'milk chocolate' printed in a cursive font. Her face was flushed pink and it looked as though if she met eyes with you, she'd melt under your gaze. On top of the chocolates was a pretty letter with equally pretty handwriting.
It undoubtedly made you smile even if it was just a little.
You accepted her gift, making sure you flashed a polite smile at her before watching her scurry off like it had been the hardest thing of her life to come up to you like that. It was charming in a way. You skimmed the letter which was mainly just her stating her appreciation for you and how she wanted to get to know you better with her name signed at the bottom with a small heart next to it.
A few of your friends who had just made it out of class had witnessed the whole scene, patting your back and pawing at the chocolates like hyenas. It wouldn't hurt to share the love, especially when your friends seemed like they'd die without sugar.
You let them all take one before sealing the box and placing it in your locker for later, you pocketed the note just so you didn't accidentally lose it or have it slip out.
Come to think of it, the more the day went by, the more you noticed a lack of Adrien. Usually he'd make an appearance by now, whether that was to stare at you with a smirk while you walked by eachother or to 'accidentally' brush your arm on any opportunity he got.
You made nothing of it though, it was probably because he thought today was boring—given all the couples would boast their affection towards eachother in the hallways—and decided to skip. It was typical of him to do so. But it still weighed in your mind all the way until the home bell rung.
Your locker was the last stop before you could go home, opening the metal door to see that your box of chocolates were gone; replaced.
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Godiva chocolates in the shape of a heart, a letter sealed in an envelope, and a bouquet of flowers that look strangely like the ones from the school garden was neatly arranged in your locker.
“Do you like it?” You practically jump out your skin as your turn to see the man you haven't seen the while day.
“You put this here?” You ask, looking back at the gifts stuffed in your locker.
“Who else would— nevermind don't answer that.” You could tell from the furrowed set of his eyebrows that he was pissed off about something, like it bothered him enough to replace the chocolates you were given.
“I thought that maybe you didn't like how forward I was this morning.” It was one of those rare occasions where Adrien wouldn't have that cocky look on his face or that teasing lilt to his tone. He wore an almost shy expression, like he wasn't used to giving gifts this romantic.
“Seeing as you liked that girl's gift so much.” You could hear the venom roll off his tongue when he said that.
You glance down at what Adrien gave you. Godiva wasn't a cheap brand and those flowers would probably have taken Adrien awhile to personally pick and choose the ones you liked to plant in the gardens. Your heart flutters at the thought that maybe Adrien was gone the whole day because he was trying to pick up gifts for you, all cause he felt a little guilty.
“I know its over the top but—” “I like it.”
He pauses and stares down at you like its the most baffling thing in the world to hear you say 'I like it.' You look up at him, and you can't hold your smile back—this time, you smile wholeheartedly.
“Thanks, Adrien,” You look both ways to see if anyone was watching and you lean up to kiss just shy of his lips on the corners of his mouth. It was a quick peck as you almost instantly pulled back to pack up your things and walk past him.
He stands there, frozen in place before his own fingers touch his face, grazing over the spot you kissed him at.
There's a sharp bang of his fist against the neighbouring lockers as he internally crumbles, holding his face like he needed to shield what was left of your fleeting kiss.
A victory perhaps?
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a / n ; dividers made by anitalenia , and the gift graphics are made by my dearest anby !
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muwapsturniolo · 1 day ago
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Raw Dawg 𐂯 M. Sturniolo
"We uhh...W-we could go raw?"
⟢ NSFW CONTENT AHEAD, smut, fingering, condoms/raw sex, snowballing (or some version of it?), that's it me thinks. let me know if i missed something please!!!!
part 1 here (you don't have to read part one because it's chris. this is just the matt version!!)
Dividers are made by @bernardsbendystraws (as usual)
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Needy.
That's what you and Matt were both feeling.
It had to have been something in the air. The two of you woke up that morning with an anxious feeling in the pit of your stomachs. However, it wasn't anxious in a way that made you feel sick, no, it was something good.
As the two of you went about your day, the touches lingered, and the glances lasted longer than they should have. There were a few times his words seemed to have a double meaning, and there were also a few times when you shot him your famous bedroom eyes.
The day was filled with strong sexual tension - neither of you could handle it anymore.
The door shoots open as both of you tumble into his bedroom, teeth clashing, tongues tangled, and clothes falling - you couldn't get enough of each other.
As soon as you both land on the bed, his fingers find their way to your excessively wet cunt. It's not an exaggeration, you were dripping. You could feel it all day, the slimy liquid seeping out of you, squelching softly between your folds.
"Shit-" he hisses as he pulls away from the feverish kiss, looking down between your bodies. Your inner thighs were drenched with your own mess, his middle and ring finger looking the exact same. His mind was going crazy trying to figure out if he wanted to taste you, or simply fuck you. Both seemed like wonderful options, but with the way you're looking at him, he knew which option to go with.
He shoves his soaked fingers in your mouth, letting you taste your own juices as he haphazardly reaches into the nightstand for a condom. He tears it open with ease, having done it many times before. It was second nature to him, the two of you deciding it was the best contraceptive.
He rolls the condom on quickly, your hands holding the back of your knees as he lines himself up. In one swift motion, he was inside of you, both of you moaning at the first sense of relief. He grasps your thighs, starting to give you the pleasure you both so desperately crave, however, an issue occurs.
You whimper as he slips out of you, his tip prodding at the lower entrance you two don't indulge in. "Shit- I'm sorry sweetheart!" He grabs his dick once more and slides it inside of you, but it happens again,
and again
and again
and again
"Matt," you whine, tears of frustration already building in your eyes. He was frustrated too, all he wanted to do was fuck his girlfriend for hours on end - and he couldn't.
"Fuck sweetheart, I know I know. You're too fuckin' wet, I-I can't stay in!" He rakes his brain trying to think of a way to make this work.
"Get on top."
He catches the glare you give him and he groans, "Dawg, I don't know - Did you just call me dawg?" You stare at him in disbelief, there was no way he just called you, his girlfriend, dawg.
"First you tell me to get on top, and now you're calling me dawg?"
"Ok ok I'm sorry! I don't know what you want me to do! You're too fuckin' wet for me to actually fuck you and you being on top is the best thing I can think of!"
The two of you stare at each other, breathing harshly and frustrated. Both of your minds are buzzing with ways to make this work. The tension has been building all day, and you both were determined to make this work. It was only a few seconds later when Matt got an idea, his body language becoming shy.
"We uhh...W-we could go raw?"
"Matt- I know! We never go raw, we agreed on that, but baby I don't know what else to do. I really need you." His hands rub over the back of your thighs needily. You look over his face with an unsure look. Of course you wanted to have sex with him, you've been waiting all day, but would you risk going raw?
"...Fine, we can go raw. Just make sure you pull-" You're cut off with his lips slamming against yours, your body already melting into the kiss.
"Pull out, I know."
In one swift movement, he takes the soaked condom off, throwing it to the floor with no care. He was eager, he finally gets to experience sex with you raw.
Just like the previous times, he lines himself up, slowly pushing in.
It was shocking how much of a difference condoms made. You could feel everything, his warmth, the vein running up the side of his dick. He could finally feel the real warmth of your velvety walls, the sponge-like texture.
You two felt close - Connected.
He starts off with a few slow thrusts, trials if you will. When he realized that he was finally staying inside, something in him changed.
He pushes your legs to your chest, his grip harsh as he begins slamming into you vigorously. Your eyes roll back, your jaw dropping at the new and incredible feeling. The headboard was slamming into the wall, surely leaving dents and scratches into the plaster.
His moans combine with yours, creating a pitch-perfect harmony. Your bodies are covered in a thin layer of sweat, the heat between you too making the room smell like a mixture of lust and love.
You felt good, so good to the point where you no longer cared.
You manage to push his hands away from your thighs, your legs collapsing on the bed as you pull him closer. Your eyes are half-lidded, glossy as you give him those puppy dog eyes.
"P-Please, need you to c-cum in me!" You urge, pleading for him to give you something you usually would never want - but it was a craving, you were feigning for it.
You needed it.
You miss the way his pupils dilate due to him slamming into you with newfound vigor, your eyes rolling all the way back as your body lurches with each thrust. You could feel the tip of his dick reaching your cervix, nudging the sensitive spot and making you see stars.
"Fuck- god m'so close!" He grunts, his jaw clenched as he tries to get you closer to the edge.
He doesn't have to work that hard, all it took was him moaning in your ear and you were releasing all over him. You let out a small scream as your juices splash between you both, wetting the sheets beneath you as well as both your bodies.
Your nails rake down his back, leaving deep scratch marks on his milky skin as he continues to rut into you. It was becoming too much and he knew it. He whispers sweet words into your ear as he pumps into you relentlessly
"Gonna cum soon. You want me t'fill you up? Give you my babies?"
"Gonna look so pretty preg- oh fuck!"
The idea of you being filled to the brim with his seed, and being pregnant, was enough to send him over, his body shaking as he moans and groans into your ear.
The two of you lay there, fucked out and sweaty as you try to catch your breath. He sits up and pulls out of you, pushing your legs back to watch himself drip out of you.
You were a sight for sore eyes, you looked so pretty like this.
He couldn't help himself.
Despite knowing you're sensitive, he lowers his body and attaches his mouth to your cunt. You jerk and grab at his hair, yanking harshly as you feel his fingers dipping into you. Thankfully it wasn't long, but you still had no chance to catch your breath.
It was something so new and erotic, the way his lips met yours and his tongue pushed the warm salty liquid in your mouth. You moan at the taste, swallowing each drop eagerly.
He pulls back from the sloppy and lustful kiss, staring at you with hungry eyes.
"No condoms for the rest of the night. Hands and knees, now."
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