#And then they mutually devoured one another

[wasteful-sam]

A debt paid in lust [18+]

Tags:

Rolan/Dark Urge (female tiefling), F/M, shameless smut, enemies to lovers (more like haters to fuckers), hate sex, mutual masturbation, biting, choking, tail play.

Notes:

Yep, it's all your fault, @chubsono. You planted the seed of writing the hatefucking Rolan into my head. When will you learn that your actions have consequences?! (ง︡'-'︠)ง

On a serious note, I'm glad to take a break from the ongoing "Worthy" and just chill a little with this smõl, one-chapter adventure. :)

[AO3 Link]

Summary:

Tiefling Dark Urge Vexis has her murderous plans rudely interrupted by Rolan, the ever-irritating wizard prodigy. He insists on repaying her for saving his siblings, though his growing frustration with the draconic bloodline sorcerer makes the exchange anything but simple. Amused by his resistance, Vex offers an alternative form of payment - one that feeds both their urges, whether he likes it or not.

+++

A debt paid in lust

Vexis' night was not going as smoothly as she would have hoped. Another burst of murderous urge had driven her out of camp, and she was now pacing frantically close to the Last Light Inn. One thought occupied the tiefling's mind entirely - Kill Isobel. Strangle her. Cut her open. Burn her. Anything.

So far, the sorcerer has managed to keep her twisted desires under control, showing remarkable restraint when it came to killing the innocents. Not because Vex didn't want to. Rather, she was wary of getting caught by her companions. They were her only means of survival in this gods-forsaken crusade, and trust was already thin after the little "incident" with a dragonborn bard at camp.

Besides, Vexis indulged in slaughtering countless enemies thrown at their party every day. But tonight, the urge was too powerful to ignore.

And so, she finally succumbed. Standing before the inn's entrance, Vex was preparing to sneak in. No one would even notice, as most of the inn's residents were soundly asleep by now.

But, of course, just moments before committing one of her greatest atrocities, Vexis' luck ran out. The sound of footsteps right behind her made the sorcerer turn. Of all people, it was that fiery-red prick.

Rolan was just as startled by the night rendezvous as she was. It was quite a sight - Vexis, standing in an unnatural dazed state, tail wagging wildly from one side to the other, face distorted in an unhinged grin. There was something very unsettling about her. The woman's azure-colored skin matched this gloomy night perfectly. It was almost as if she was a ghost - no, an evil spirit - roaming the lands, her greenish-red eyes devouring everything on her way.

Rolan's stomach twisted. But annoyance quickly overpowered the unease. Of course, he'd meet this arrogant do-gooder tonight after he'd spent almost all day thinking about her. Just yesterday, she and her party had saved his siblings. They waltzed through Moonrise Towers like it was nothing, effortlessly tearing through the horrors inside. And Rolan? He did nothing to help.

The shame burned in his chest. He hated them for doing what he could not. And he was grateful. That was the worst part.

So, he had spent the day drowning in self-loathing, searching for a way to make it right. After hours of brooding (and an ill-advised night swim in the freezing river), he had come to a solution. He would pay the party for the rescue.

And, what do you know - here's a perfect opportunity. If only the wizard had met someone - anyone else from the party rather than Vexis.

To tell the truth, everything about her set him on edge. The way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she wielded magic as if it had been made just for her. That unshakable confidence. That unbothered smirk.

And the way her presence dug under his skin and stayed there. She was everything Rolan wanted for himself.

"Should I even ask what you're doing here?" his voice cut through the night.

Vexis barely spared him a glance, her tail flicking impatiently, "Oh, wonderful. Just what I needed," she gurgled, realizing she could kiss her murderous plans goodbye, "I was just about to leave, so."

"Wait," a muscle in Rolan's jaw twitched, but he forced himself to continue, "Since you're here, I need to talk to you. First of...," he paused, then exhaled, "I didn't have a chance to thank you for saving Cal and Lia... And I want to pay you for it."

For a second, Vexis just stared. Then she let out a dry sigh, "I don't have time for this, I'm leaving."

The wizard narrowed his eyes, hating that he had to plead with her, "It will only take a moment. Let me get the gold from my room."

The sorcerer rolled her eyes, "I'm not in the mood for a chat. I don't need your gold."

Frustration burned in his chest, "So what, you expect me to stand around, feeling indebted to you?"

"Oh, sorry," Vex sneered, her fangs glinting in the dim light, "I didn't realize it was all about your bleeding pride, wizard. It just can't catch a break, can it?"

Rolan snapped, "My pride? You're the one to talk! I'm doing what's right..."

Vexis frowned. This wasn't good. They were slipping into another of their endless arguments - fiery, volatile, and far too loud. She didn't need any more attention tonight.

With an irritated sigh, she grabbed his shoulder. Before he could react, the world twisted. A split second later, they landed outside a door on the second floor of the forge. Vex unceremoniously pushed Rolan inside, closing the door behind them.

The room was dim and hollow, the air thick with dust and the lingering scent of smoke. Below them, the faint crackle of embers drifted up from the forge.

Rolan whirled on her, eyes blazing, "What in the hells did you do that for?"

Vexis found his confusion rather amusing, "What, never used a dimension door before? Why am I not surprised," she said mockingly, studying her sharp nails in complete disregard to what Rolan had to say.

"Of course I have!" Rolan lied, his tail flicking sharply. "But you - you're audacious! You think just because you know a few fancy spells, you can yank me around like a bloody puppet?"

"Pretty much," she replied nonchalantly, "Gods, are you always this loud? I'm very tempted to cast silence next."

Rolan scoffed, his annoyance ramping up, "Of course, a sorcerer who's arrogant and disrespectful. You all have the same problem: you lack the comprehension of what hard work is…"

The wizard's ongoing tirade fell on deaf ears. Still focused on her slender, long fingers, Vex considered her options. The slaughter of Isobel was out of the question now that her murderous urge was so rudely interrupted.

Yet, the hunger inside her hadn't faded, only shifted. The sorcerer's mind wandered, picturing battles to come and the divine sight of bloodshed to inevitably follow. The visions only made it worse, as her body started trembling slightly, begging for something, anything that could bring her release.

Her gaze flicked to Rolan. He was still ranting, still indignant. It was rather comical, considering his usual hairdo was now a mess and an extravagant robe switched to lowly, simple clothes. But for once, Vexis actually studied him - his sharp features kissed by dim moonlight, eyes burning with fury, that tail lashing so temptingly behind him.

Interesting. Maybe she wouldn't need blood tonight. Maybe something else could be just as satisfying.

Just when Vex' desperate hunger needed to be clenched, all she needed was to reach and take a bite.

"Aren't you a little obsessed with me?" Vexis interrupted, her voice now silky-smooth, gaze set on him entirely.

Such a jarring change in the woman's tone stopped Rolan mid-sentence. Vex was shamelessly looking him up and down, lips parted. A single claw traced the column of her throat, slow and deliberate as if lost in thought. The sight made Rolan's heart stutter, though his irritation still burned hot.

"Obsessed?" the wizard asked, furrowing his brows, "What are you talking about?"

Even with his tone being stern, Vex caught it – a flicker of something wild in his eyes, how his mouth twitched nervously before replying. She knew he was already under her spell. The sorcerer just needs to push Rolan a little further.

"How else should I call it?" she moved closer, "You've been going on and on about repaying me instead of sleeping soundly in the middle of the night."

Rolan rolled his eyes, arms crossed in defiance, "I've told you already – I hate being indebted to people."

"Oh, that's unfortunate," Vex came even closer, now standing an arm's reach away from the wizard, "The problem is, I have no use for your coins. Maybe you can repay me in another way?"

Confused and annoyed by her blatant refusal to accept his coins, the tiefling sighed, "What do you want then?"

"How about you answer one question? I only ask that you're honest."

The look on Vexis' face - an odd mixture of something seductive yet sinister – made Rolan's fists clench. Or maybe it was just the late hour messing with his mind.

Then Vex murmured, "Do you want me?"

Surely, he must have misheard. There was no way those words had left her mouth. Just like that? Completely unprovoked? No. It must be a mistake or a trick. A manipulation. Anything.

Yet, Vexis' challenging gaze was running Rolan up and down, studying him, waiting for a response. The wizard's confused expression made her smirk. His slow unraveling was delicious.

Noticing it, Rolan scoffed, trying his hardest to regain control. He wouldn't let anyone play him. Especially someone this annoyingly arrogant, "You must be joking."

"Hm?" Vex made another step towards him, "Why aren't you laughing then?" She reached out, claws barely grazing his shirt, teasing, testing.

Rolan's breath hitched, but he couldn't give in. His pride was a fragile thing, and she was hell-bent on shattering it. "Because you're asking lunatic questions," he said irritably. He meant to pull away from her touch, but his body betrayed him - traitorous, instinct-bound. Unlike its master, it couldn't lie about its desires.

The sorcerer shrugged dismissively, "You could've said "no" ten times by now. Yet, here you stand, trying and failing miserably to figure me out, aren't you?"

Rolan inhaled slowly, forcing a veneer of confidence, "There is nothing to figure out. You are as simple as they come, except for the impressive sense of self-importance."

But his words were of no consequence to Vexis. She sighed, feigning irritation, "It's still not an answer. I'm starting to lose my patience," Vex paused as another devious grin graced her face, "Why don't we speed things up a little?"

Before the wizard could say anything, she pulled her tunic up and over her head. The fabric landed on the floor next to her with a hushed swish. But to Rolan, it sounded like the loudest thud in the realm. Or maybe that was just the deafening hammer of his own pulse, rattling through his skull, distorting everything around him.

Vex stood before him, utterly nonchalant, her upper body bare, shameless. The knowing, smug smile tugged at her lips as she read his reaction like an open book.

"You're so bad at this," Vexis murmured playfully, undoing her belt at a torturously slow pace, "Your answer was obvious from the very start. Still," she took off her trousers with one swift move, revealing her toned legs and a complete lack of undergarments, "I want to hear you say it."

She stepped forward. The space between them shrank to nothing.

Rolan wrenched his head to the side, as if not looking would somehow keep him from breaking. But it wasn't enough. Her heat enveloped him, making the wizard's own body burn ten times hotter, suffocating him. Every subtle rise and fall of her chest shifted the air between them, brushing against him. Worse still was her natural, intoxicating scent. It was as if Vex was drenched in a mixture of wildflowers, amber, and… lust. Rolan couldn't stand it. He hated how desperately he wanted her.

Yet, he made himself talk again, clinging to the miniscule remanence of pride. Rolan's voice was low and rough as he muttered, "You really think yourself so irresistible that…"

Vex didn’t let him finish. She seized his mouth with an open palm, fingers pressing firm, silencing him in an instant. Her grip was tight, although Rolan wouldn’t bother to struggle out of it – he was too startled to move, rattled by the sheer audacity of her touch.

The sorcerer tsked, her index and middle fingers gliding over his lips in slow, teasing circles, “Have you considered that you can do far more pleasurable things with your mouth than yap?”

To her delight, it seemed that Rolan finally succumbed to her cruel teasing: his eyes narrowed, a glint of challenge and rage burning in them. Just a couple more pushes, and he would be thrown into a lustful delirium.

Vexis pressed harder, prying his lips apart. The two clawed fingers made their way inside Rolan’s mouth, met by his eager tongue. His mouth closed around her digits, sucking them in deep, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes. He never broke eye contact, eviscerating Vex with his stare, hiding the pleasure her taste brought behind it.

“See?” her lips curved in wicked amusement, “If only you were more decisive, you’d been tasting my tongue instead.”

With a languid pull, she withdrew her fingers - only to bring them to her own lips. She parted them, slipping her fingers into the warmth of her mouth, moaning softly as she savored their mingled taste. Watching her, Rolan went rigid, breath seizing in his throat.

Suddenly, she stopped, moving away from him, “A shame, really, that you are a coward,” Vexis drawled, her voice laced with mock pity, “For such a loudmouth, answering a simple question was too difficult,” the sorcerer turned away, setting her final strike into motion, “The first time I saw you, I thought you were a virgin. Maybe my suspicion was right. Or maybe you just can’t -”

Rolan wouldn’t let Vex finish. His hand landed on her shoulder, turning her around with force. His other hand grabbed her hip, slamming her thighs into his. Vexis immediately felt his hardened length pressing against her lower stomach, twitching in anticipation.

“Does this answer your question?” Rolan’s voice was rough, nearly a growl, as he grounded against her.

Although Vexis’ face remained indifferent, a victorious heat pervaded her stomach: she finally broke him.

Shifting her hips just enough to make space, her hand slipped between them, fingers gliding against his core, teasing.

“Mm,” she murmured, mock-thoughtful, her touch growing more insistent, “I’m not sure. Maybe you should elaborate.”

Rolan had enough of her circus. His hand shot up, gripping her throat with just enough force to make her bite back a gasp. Their horns brushed as he leaned in, foreheads pressed together, breath hot and unsteady, “You are such a little slithery snake,” the wizard hissed slowly, his irises sharpening in a dangerous agony, “Do you always have to play dirty to get what you want?”

The tight grip around her throat made Vexis’ pulse stutter - excited, hungry. She smirked, arrogant as ever, her fingers hooking into his waistband, tugging demandingly, “Only if I know the opponent will act a sore loser about it.”

Rolan’s hand was quick as he grabbed his pants and pulled them down, freeing his throbbing flesh. His palm returned to Vex’ hip, gripping hard, claws digging into her skin.

“Sore loser?” Rolan’s voice faltered as he tried desperately to cover his groans. Vex didn’t lose any time, stroking his cock with deliberate slowness. It felt so good already, and they barely even started.

“Sore loser?” He muttered again, tone laced with frustration, “I’m not the one begging for it,” Rolan’s gaze now roamed her body shamelessly. Freckled azure skin. Razor-sharp ridges. Perfect, delicious curves. He drank her in, his arousal coiling hot and tight in his core.

She could play all the games she wanted. But Rolan knew - he would claim all of her before the night was over.

“Begging?” Vex whispered. She lifted a finger to her lips, sliding it between them. Slowly. Rolan watched, entranced, as she pulled it free and trailed it down. Her fingertip pressed against his burning tip, spreading the wetness over him.

Unable to hold it, the wizard bit into her shoulder, failing to cover his lustful huffs. Vexis repeated the circular motion, taunting him. Her own center started pulsating, making the sorcerer’s strokes grow faster.

She wanted him just as badly. And Rolan knew it.

He took off his shirt - the need to feel her bare against him was unbearable. Breathing heavily, Rolan pressed his forehead to hers, whispering against her lips, "You will get what's owed to you - every last bit of it."

He moved in to kiss Vex, but she tilted her head at the last minute, "You missed your chance to taste my lips. Now - earn it," she teased, her grip around his length tightened.

A growl rumbled from his chest. Next second - Rolan's lips were on her neck, licking and sucking in the skin, bruising it mercilessly. Hearing her whimper in pleasure made him lose all control.

"Spread it," he rasped against her skin, barely able to breeze between kisses. His hand already trailed down, seeking the heat between her legs.

Vexis shuddered but still had the nerve to taunt, "Make me."

She didn't have to ask him twice. Rolan's tail slid between her thighs from behind, brushing against her drenched folds. A wicked grin curled his lips as he felt just how ready she was.

"You are begging for it, little liar," he hissed, dragging his tail back and forth, making her squirm.

Driven mad by the friction, Vexis felt the hunger coil tighter in her core, demanding to be filled. She reached down, gripping Rolan’s tail and pushing it aside, replacing it with something far hotter, far harder - his throbbing length. A shudder ran through her as she pressed him against her soaked folds, gliding back and forth, holding him between her thighs.

Rolan's breath hitched. The sight of her stroking herself against him so shamelessly, spreading her wetness all over his length, nearly undid him.

He growled low in his throat before crashing his lips against hers at last, claiming his reward as their tongues tangled in molten heat. Rolan's hands were all over her body, unable to miss every inch, every curve.

And Vex couldn't help but melt into him, moaning in pleasure as Rolan held her tight. Her arms rose and curved around his neck as she slowed her grinding to a more intimate pace. For a moment, they both felt sane again.

But for Vexis, those never lasted. The sorcerer sucked in his lower lip, biting on the skin hard enough to draw blood. Its intoxicating taste made her feral for violence once more. Vex broke their kiss, licking the crimson remnants.

"Don't get all soft with me," she murmured in warning, digging her claws into the man's sides.

The dazed, dangerous look in her eyes said it all to Rolan. She was so infuriating, leading him toward the edge of madness.

"My bad," he whispered, voice low, laced with knowing and want, "I forgot who I'm dealing with."

Rolan grabbed her waist, spun her around, and bent her over, forcing her hands to catch onto the nearest wooden pole for support. Vex' breath hitched while he took a moment to admire her lustful, trembling core.

The way she craved him yet had the nerve to mock and push him around reignited the wizard's fury. Just like Vexis wanted.

Rolan slapped the curve of her hips, dragging her closer to him. His free hand slid between her thighs, caressing her pulsating bud. Vex whimpered, her thighs shifting, seeking more friction.

Watching her squirm for his hot, red flesh brought a grin to his face, "You can still take my gold instead," Rolan teased, bending and pressing against her, his hands kneading her breasts.

Vexis groaned, exasperated, "You have some nerve, you petulant, annoying wiz-"

Her words shattered into a strangled scream as Rolan thrust into her in one swift, claiming motion, filling her completely. The sensation made him freeze for a second - her core was so tight, so pulsating and eager, that Rolan couldn't hold his own brazen moans.

He moved, slow at first, dragging along her slick, clenching walls before slamming back in. Vexis needed a reminder that she was his now, and her uncontrolled whimpers confirmed it.

Rolan's pace quickened, hands moving uncontrollably between her breasts and waist. Her every moan, every touch, every contraction intoxicated him beyond any other known drug.

Vex' breath hitched, her body arching in response. Breathless, she begged, "Deeper."

Rolan's breath came out in ragged pants, "On your knees," he rasped.

They descended to the dust-covered floor together, their cores still intertwined in a lustful union. Watching Vex bending and arching her back and thighs into such an undignified position made his hot member twitch violently.

He gripped her hips and drove into her with ruthless precision, filling her to the hilt. A savage groan left both their mouths in unison. There was no stopping now, not when the pleasure was so divine. He hammered into Vexis mercilessly, moving her hips with quick, possessive force.

The racket of lewd noises, rampant moans, and rhythmic slaps of skin on skin filled the room. They now looked like feral animals, free of shame and concepts of decency.

Keeping his punishing pace, Rolan bent forward, fisting a hand in Vexis' hair and pulling her up just enough to make her meet his gaze, "Close," was all he could master, struggling to breeze.

The motion finally undid Vex. She let out a broken moan, enveloping his length in her sweet release. Unable to hold any longer, Rolan followed, locking his arms around Vexis as he spilled into her.

Bone-tired, they fell flat on the floor, trying to regain their breath.

Vexis shifted beneath him, turning onto her back, her sharp gaze studying the wizard's face. Red as a burning flame now, he did the same, his golden eyes traveling slowly across her face. Even now, covered in dust and marked by their violent passion, she was no less striking than the day he first saw her.

"You know," she muttered, lazily dragging her palm along his cheek to wipe away a smudge of dust, "You still owe me for saving your lot at the grove."

Rolan blinked back at her, certainly not expecting such a response. Then he scoffed, rolling his eyes to hide the way his heart hammered anew.

"Do you expect every other tiefling to pay you this sort of commission?" the wizard asked.

Vexis chuckled, "Only a sore loser like you."

"Good," Rolan replied, crushing his lips to hers, rolling his hips against her with a newfound confidence.

+++

Vexis only left their little hiding spot at dawn, body covered in his love bites and claw marks. Giving Rolan her final, arrogance-filled look, she said, "If you make it to Baldur's Gate, I might find some use for you there."

Rolan watched her leaving in silence, his body even more battered and bruised after their night rendezvous. Even twenty years later, the memory of their first violent, intoxicating union would burn just as vividly.

[ibringyouasong89]

This made me think of Mulder, Scully, and their relationship...SO HARD. #Like Jesus #It May Have Taken Them Some Time To Get Together #But When They Did #BOOM #There Goes The Universe As They Knew It #Nuclear-Atomic-EMP-Eruptions That Shook The Galaxy #They Were No Longer Separate #And You BEST BELIEVE It Was Mulder’s Star That Ate Scully’s #wink wink nudge nudge #But In NO WAY Was Scully NOT A Fellow White Dwarf Star That Would Eat Him Up In Return #It’s very sexy #In an astrophysics kind of way

wait till the tumblr girlies find out that in binary star systems sometimes one star will basically eat the other and kill them both - resulting in the most powerful thing a star could ever do in its life.

[witchcraftingboop]

As of last night, I'm finally in Act 3 of BG3. Unfortunately, my brain has since been nearly fully wrapped up in the idea of making a drow sorcerer and becoming an iconic lil lesbian war mongering couple with Lae'zel in my next run

[anistarrose]

I'd like to propose a dark horse candidate for the most interesting line in The Book of Bill. And it's this near-unreadable, seemingly one-off joke from the "Skin" page:

[ID: tiny text reading: "Help! This is not Bill Cipher. My name is Grebley Hemberdreck of Zimtrex 5. I'm one of thousands of beings Bill has devoured over trillions of years whose souls are now trapped inside him. You have to free me! It's horrible in here. He just keeps playing the song "Good Vibrations" by Marky Mark on an endless loop. Please, please, this is not a joke! The Zimtrexians were once a proud and mighty people, but now our spirits long for release from this..." End ID.]

Okay, so Bill devours souls who then live out a horrible existence inside him. That's just some typical and expected Bill behavior, right? Nothing to be shocked by? Maybe not, but one thing jumps out at me... and of all things, it's the way that Bill keeps playing that Beach Boys parody (correction provided by @fexalted: no, not in fact a Smiley Smile parody, but a real song!) on loop.

Because in The Book of Bill, there's a recurring motif of characters playing music for a very specific reason: to repel an unwanted presence inside their head. This is what Elias Inkwell, and later Ford, did with the "It's A Small World" parody — they tried to keep Bill out of their brains. Or, metaphorically... to drown out his voice.

[ID: a Journal 3 page with a cassette taped inside. It's titled: "The World Is Small Ever After for Always." Ford writes: "If it's war you want, it's war you'll get! If you want to torture me? I'll torture you back!" End ID.]

That doesn't necessarily mean that Bill finds the voices of devoured souls to be troubling, let alone downright haunting, does it? Well... not quite on its own. But there's a "color" code on the page about TV static that says a lot:

[ID: a code consisting of colorful squares, translated to letters that spell out: "he never sleeps he never dreams but somehow still he hears their screams." End ID] (screenshot courtesy of @fexiled)

The context of the page implies these "screams" come to Bill especially when he listens to TV static, and the broader context of the book implies that these are the screams of his destroyed home dimension, Euclydia. Therefore, not necessarily those of the souls he devoured, from Zimtrex 5 and possibly other dimensions.

Except... do those two things really have to be mutually exclusive?

The beings that Bill devoured were accumulated over "trillions" of years, plural, according to Grebley. In Weirdmageddon 1, Bill claims to have resided in the Nightmare Realm for precisely "one trillion" years. So the "devouring" habit probably extends back even further than his time in the Nightmare Realm...

Enter @acetyzias, pointing out a very conspicuous word — and one of the only uncensored words — from Bill's description of destroying his home dimension:

[ID: the word "mandibles". End ID.]

Oh, and how does Bill describe the "monster" that destroyed his home to Ford, when Ford asks about revenge?

[ID: Journal excerpt reading: "Sixer, it would eat you alive." End ID.]

For a long time, Bill's destruction of his home has been associated with fire, even when the story's told by Bill himself. But through the way the book characterizes Bill's guilt — and characterizes how the consequences of what he's done remain lurking deep inside him — I think The Book of Bill lays out the hints for another motif: devouring.

And, well, when it comes to how Bill destroys things... it wouldn't be without precedent.

[ID: screenshot of Bill in Weirdmageddon 3, taking a bite out of the Earth. End ID.]

[mommynott]

Naughty List

12 Days of Dickmas - Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Summary: Deciding to pass the time before your enemy heads over to work on a paired project…You lose track of time, resulting in some mind blowing fun with Mattheo👀

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, Chars 18+, college au, enemy!mattheo, toxic!mattheo, ewb!mattheo, voyarism, legilimency, masturbation, orgasm control, degrading, dirty talk, tension, clit stim, jerking off, mutual masturbation, mutual orgasms, Mattheo controlling you with just his mind

An hour. You had an hour until god-awful Mattheo would show up to your dorm to work on the project together. You hated him. Couldn’t stand the idiot. But fuck— Did he get you hot and bothered.

—Tick tock-tick tock—The clock above your bed was loud, but nowhere near as vocal as your mind was. Your legs spread as you laid naked on your bed, flicking your swollen little bud.

Pictures of Mattheo on top of you- Banging into you at full force danced across your mind while your fingers effortlessly swirled around your clit. “-Mmmm…Just…like that…” You whimpered to yourself, your eyes shut as you envisioned it perfectly.

One hour. You had time. Or so you thought…Stuck in your blissful trance— Mattheo barged in like he usually did. But you didn’t notice. Didn’t even hear him over your loud thoughts.

His eyes widened at the sight of you sprawled out on your bed. Fully nude— Fuck me. Matt didn’t say a single word. Watching you…Feeling his cock start to pool with blood and harden. “Mmmm- Matty…Yes-“ Another whimper left your swollen lips.

When he heard his name being slipped from your sexy moans- His dick fully hardened. Rock hard. A breath escaped from his lungs as he took a step forward.

“Naughty girl…Huh? Moaning my name? Thinking of me?…. Someone’s certainly on the naughty list this year.”

Mattheo’s voice echoed through your mind, at first thinking it was something you had done yourself, envisioning it. However, you were curious, your eyes fluttering open to see his stare burning into your leaky slit.

“Fuck— Uh, Mattheo?!” Your voice rasped through as you scurried to sit up and try to cover yourself. A low chuckle emitted from your enemy as he stalked over slowly, standing right at the edge of the bed.

What the fuck? I had an hour…why is he here early? You cleared your throat, your glossed-over eyes flickering between his own. “Keep touching yourself— Don’t stop.” Again, his voice growled through your head.

The use of legilimency. You knew he was a skilled and powerful wizard but fuck- Not with this. Although, it only turned you on more. Merlin— how could you hate someone so much yet want to fuck them? It didn’t make sense, not to you, not to Mattheo.

“I-I…Why are you…here so-so early?”

You finally asked as you relaxed against the bed once more, your palm reaching over your little slit but not moving your fingers just yet. “Early?— If anything I’m a few minutes late—“ The cockiness of his words chimed through your head.

“O-oh…I thought- I—“

You were tripping over your words, stuttering like crazy. But his domineering tone cut you off. “Shut up and keep fucking touching yourself, whore—“ the vulgarity of it, the degrading, you were practically a puddle.

Abiding to Mattheo’s demand, your fingers started to swirl in small and fast little circles yet again. Your gaze fixated on him while he started to shuffle down his sweatpants.

Taking out his massive length, he slowly started to stroke it. His eyes devoured you in unimaginable ways. “Mattheo…f-feels so good—“ croaking out in a small little cry, a satisfied smirk painted across his smug face.

“Keep moaning my name- Fuck— You look so hot playing with your pussy like that—“

He growled through your mind, jerking himself off faster and faster as time went on. “—Such a dirty…Pathetic little whore.” Mattheo was speaking through your head- almost as if….if he didn’t physically vocalize them, they didn’t mean anything.

Hearing the splashing of the growing wetness between your slippery folds, your moans only progressively got louder. Feeling the euphoric sensations right before an orgasm would start to hit you.

“So close— Fuck! I’m so—“

Before you could even finish your screams, you heard Mattheo’s voice shout within your brain. “Not- Fucking- yet.” He meant business. You quickly stopped, gawking at him with big eyes.

“W-what?” You asked softly, watching as he tilted his head back and let out a loud groan. Still stroking his precum-covered cock, his darkened gaze locked with yours. “You cum when I say you can, got it, slut?”

Goosebumps Erupted over your delicate skin before taking your fingers and circling them slowly once more. Giving your enemy a slight yet submissive head nod.

You kept your pace slow and smooth- not wanting to risk finishing early and pissing him off. But then yet again, he spoke into your head. “Faster- I know what you’re doin’”

Fuck. You swallowed, glazing your fingers around your clit faster. However, you knew you wouldn’t be able to last much longer. Not with how he was looking at you.

“I-I…It feels so good-“Squeaking out through a muffled cry, Matt seemed to move his own hand even faster. His gaze going from your cunt, to your tits, to your eyes.

“Fuck it— I’m close…Cum with me, you dirty…little…-fuck…whore”

Groaning through each word, you finally got the go-ahead. God, why was I even listening to him? Fuck. It was too hot though. You could hardly handle it.

Slipping your dainty fingers with ease, that familiar feeling built up quickly with ease. “I’m gonna cum, Matty- fuck me! I’m gonna cum—“ Screaming out in pleasure, your climax finally hit. Feeling your juices squirt out all over your bed sheets.

“A fuckin’ squirter? Fuckin’ Hell—“

Stroking his dick even harder, he let out a low groan before his seed shot out, cumming all over the soaked bed sheets and a tiny trickle hitting right across your mound.

Both of you hitting an intense orgasm at nearly the same time felt strange. Having only loathed each other for so long- this seemed off.

The two of you sat basking in the afterglow. Staring into each other's eyes with jagged breathes. Not knowing what to do or say…

One the 9th day of Dickmas we get…Mattheo and legilimency😈🎁

Hope y’all liked this one of matty hehehe👀 Make sure to check out more yummy fics from @nottswitch @nottsangel and @slytherinslut0 ❄️

Dividers pinned in my masterlist🌙

Love my naughty nymphs bunches 💋

[crescenthistory]

I saw that you wanted to write the girlies into your fics more often, so I wanted to make a request 8) Can I request a reader x Regulus where reader is crushing BAD on Reggie, and the girlies take it upon themselves to try and do a little matchmaking? I love your work, and your recent Barty fic was AMAZING btw!!!

the girlies<333 oh how i love them and their silly little adventures, thank you for giving me an excuse to write them babes! and for being soso sweet omg you're an angel

Summary: Dorcas has had it with two of her best friends walking on eggshells around each other to avoid their feelings. So, she puts her best meddlers on the case to end it once and for all, and make the idiots kiss.

Words: 5.7k

Warnings: not proofread, mutual pining believed to be unrequited love, use of y/n, slytherin!fem!reader, background girlies, rosekiller and dorlene, teasing, awkwardness, language, confessions of love, really cliche but makes up for it in sweetness?

Note: who wouldn't be down bad crying at the gym for reggie?

Though you believed being humble was virtuous, you did pride yourself with being a particularly kind person.

Most people in the castle got over well with you, and you had been able to float in and out of all the major friend groups in your year. The self-declared Marauders often ran to hide with you when chased by a consequence in one form or another, and the Hufflepuff quidditch team seemingly adopted you after you cheered them up after their first loss of the season. With all the pressures of Hogwarts and the lives you were soon to embark on afterwards, it was the least you could do to spread some joy, and perhaps receive a bit in return.

At the end of the day, you always came back to your friend group, though – a heap of entangled limbs and snickering, usually found in the same trusted corner of the Slytherin common room. Barty was always in some way or another physically on top of Evan, rarely conventional cuddling positions, while Pandora sat cross-legged on the floor by them, preferably braiding someone’s hair. Dorcas would sit on the table or lounge chair, waving her arms emphatically, often hitting either you or her girlfriend Marlene – the one Gryffindor you all collectively accepted – square in the face, multiple times throughout the night.

Oh, how you loved them.

And if their cheers every time you returned to them from your little friendship tours, as Barty called them, were anything to go by – they loved you too.

Then, there was Regulus Black.

The victim of whatever positions Evan and Barty felt like sitting in, as he always sat at the other end of the sofa they inhabited. The calm and collected of the bunch, except for when Dorcas or Barty said something particularly outlandish he just had to argue with. The multitasker, always with a book in hand, whether for personal enjoyment or study-related, somehow devouring them while catching every word around him. The wittiest one, well-timed remarks hitting people – usually Barty – square in the chest.

The object of all your desires.

Because while you were a kind person, and arguably well-liked, Regulus was the one person you never managed to get quite close to. You were in the same little circle of friends, sure, and had been having friendly conversation and banter for the past 7 years. In theory, you know each other like the backs of your hands, but in practice you had never been alone in a room with him for more than a few minutes before he runs off.

It hurt you once upon a time, wondering what was wrong with you to make him seemingly be repelled from you like oil from water. Over the years though, you realised that is just kind of how Regulus operates. There is some reason behind all the mechanics, but they are not for others to know, just him to sulk over, and you have to accept what you’re given until he’s ready to offer more. Though you tried not to dwell on the fact that it was only you he seemed to avoid to that extent. You had to leave it to him to figure it out, you had decided.

You could live with that, but distance unfortunately made your heart grow fonder. Painfully so.

Regulus Black with his gorgeous black curls that have been so soft to the touch every time you have been close to it during your late nights around the fireplace. Regulus Black with his flowy white shirts and silver rings, gleaming in the glow of Hogwarts’s many candles. Regulus Black with his stupidly beautiful laugh whenever one of his friends could withdraw a real one from him, as if fished from the depths of his chest. Regulus Black with his striking grey eyes that you could get lost in, and have embarrassingly so, many a time. Regulus Black with his–

“Y/N would you quit pining for just a second and listen to me!” Dorcas’s exasperated voice cut through your musings, as you looked up at her with a non quizzical hum, only causing her to groan louder.

You were laying on your bed, almost ready for the night, while Dorcas apparently had tried to get through to you from her own bed mere metres from yours. Your best friend was sat on her bedside, hands on her knees as she looked just about ready to tackle you. Lovingly, of course.

“How’d you know I was even thinking about that?” you challenge, but there is no real fight in you as Dorcas’s gaze has already levelled you.

“You think about much else?”

“Rude.”

“Ruder to call him ‘that’. Put some respect on Reggie’s name.” You rolled your eyes, and had to fight the urge to shush her.

“Oh, don’t worry, he can’t hear us all the way from the boys’ dormitories.” 7 years of friendship had taught her almost too much about you.

“Would you stop trying to read my mind?” You climbed over in her bed to give her the attention she so craved. “It’s a bit intense.”

Dorcas flopped down on her back, sighing at nothing in particular. “You love that I know you so well. And someone ought to read your mind, if you’re not going to speak it.”

“Maybe some things are better left unsaid,” you teased her, but she kept giving you a narrow stare.

“I simply refuse to believe that.”

“Hey, where’s Marls?” you ask, not necessarily because you missed the blonde and pink haired menace you had come to view as a sister. Mostly just to shift the topic at hand. “Wasn't she supposed to stay the night?”

“Yeah, but she’s running an errand for me.”

“An errand?” You quirked a brow at her, looking over at a clock you kept by your bedside. “12 minutes before curfew?”

“Yes,” Dorcas said, giving you a duh look. Stupid you.

As if on cue, Marlene all but kicked down your door with a grin plastered on her face. “How ya doin’ ladies? I brought friends.” In behind her came Pandora and Lily, smiling a bit more softly, though there was a mischievous glint in Lily’s eyes that could only be a poor habit picked up from a certain Gryffindor bunch.

You gave enthusiastic greetings in return, happy to see your friends, but your brow still furrowed at the unexpected guests. A quick glance at Dorcas, whose lips curled into a grin so innocent that it immediately raised suspicions, only deepened your confusion.

“What’s this about?” you asked, voice laced with curiosity but also a growing sense of foreboding. A roomful of your closest friends this late at night – this had all the hallmarks of an ambush.

“Oh, nothing,” Dorcas said, too casually. She was still sprawled on her back, her eyes half-closed, but you didn’t miss the smirk playing on her lips. “We just thought it would be super fun to have a little... chat.”

Pandora was already situated on the floor right in front of you, humming some unfamiliar tune as she twisted her locs absentmindedly, while Lily leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a knowing smile dancing across her face. Marlene, never one for subtlety, was practically bouncing on the spot, barely containing her excitement.

“A chat?” You narrowed your eyes at them, already sensing that you were the centre of whatever this was. “That everyone knows about beforehand except me? I think that's called an intervention.”

Marlene’s grin widened. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“Hey!” You threw a pillow at her, which she easily dodged, cackling. “Okay, seriously girls. What’s going on?”

Lily stepped forward, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ve been talking. Well, more like observing.”

“Observing what exactly?” you asked, a sinking feeling creeping into your stomach. You knew these girls, and you knew when they were up to something.

“More like observing who,” Marlene interjected with a wink, as she casually threw herself onto Dorcas’s bed beside you, almost kicking her girlfriend in the face.

Pandora hummed softly, eyes now trained on her chipping purple nailpolish. “It’s just… you’ve been staring at Regulus like a lovesick puppy for years, and he’s been acting all distant and broody in response. Now that we're in our final year, the harmony should be set right before we all leave.”

You sat up straighter. “I have not–”

“Oh, come off it, Y/N.” Dorcas finally sat up, folding her legs beneath her. “You practically melt every time he so much as glances your way, and we’ve all seen the way you fawn over his hair like it’s spun silk. It’s borderline painful.”

Your face flushed, but you tried to play it off with a wave of your hand. “I don’t fawn.”

“You do,” Lily said, with the smallest hint of a smirk. “And Regulus? Merlin, that boy has been pining for you for too long. If you're a lovesick puppy, he's a kicked street dog.”

Your heart stumbled in your chest. “Wait– what?”

Marlene clapped her hands together in delight, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment. “Oh, darling, it’s so obvious. He’s completely smitten. Why do you think he’s always avoiding you? The boy’s terrified he’ll do something stupid like… I don’t know, confess his undying love for you in front of everyone.”

You blinked, completely taken aback. You expected them to give you a get it together speech, not... whatever this is.

“But– but, what, no, he’s always so cold around me. I thought–”

“That’s because he’s a socially inept idiot when it comes to feelings,” Dorcas interjected with a shrug, never one to sugarcoat it, though her voice softened when she took in your confused face. “Look, Regulus has spent his whole life trying to remain in control, but when he's around you he can't. So, if he can’t figure out how to act, he just… doesn’t.”

Lily nodded. “He’s not used to wanting something as much as he wants you.”

"Oh, he would not be happy knowing you're psychoanalysing him like this," you mumbled, mind whirling, to which Marlene and Dorcas just cackled.

Humour at the expense of their friend – what could be better?

You struggled to process this new information. You had left your relationship with Regulus to fate, an open invitation for friendship without pursuing anything more than that. As long as you could admire him from afar, you figured it was enough. The thought that he might have felt the same, but not know how to go about it felt foreign to you. It seemed impossible, and yet, when you thought back, the signs were there. The way his eyes lingered on you just a bit too long when he thought you weren't looking. The way his laughter – rare and beautiful – sounded a little softer, a little more genuine, when you were around. The way he physically ran away from you when you got too close, always some handy excuse ready...

You had chalked it up to his aloofness, to his enigmatic nature. A large part of you, fragile and uncertain, still wanted to.

“I don’t know…” you started, still hesitant. “What if you’re wrong?”

Pandora smiled softly at you, her eyes gentle but firm. “We’re not wrong, Y/N. The stars told me as much. But if your heart needs proof, we’re going to help you get it.”

Your gaze snapped to her, as blood rushed through your head. “Help me… how?”

“That’s the best part!” Marlene all but squealed, bouncing up from the bed and throwing her arm around you. “We’re going to play matchmaker!”

You stared at them, wide-eyed. “What? No! You’re not– no meddling! You’ll make things worse.”

Dorcas just gave you a knowing look, leaning back on her hands. “How can we make things worse if there is nothing at fuck all going on between you right now because you can't get your heads out of your asses?"

"We're friends, Dorcas!"

She sighed, as if you were a child, but gave you a soft look. You think she was trying to be reassuring. "We’re not going to make things worse. We’re going to force you two to face each other, and maybe then you’ll finally stop dancing around your feelings.”

“I don’t–”

“Too late, darling,” Marlene interrupted, her grin wicked. “Plans are already in motion.”

Lily smirked. “We’ve got it all figured out.”

You were about to protest again when Pandora placed a soft hand on your shoulder. “Trust us,” she said, her voice a soothing balm against the rising anxiety in your chest. “This is going to work.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. There was no stopping them, you knew that much. Once this group had an idea in their heads, there was no turning back. Still, the thought of whatever they had planned made your stomach twist in both excitement and dread.

Marlene clapped her hands together once more. “Right, first things first. Tomorrow, we’re going to get you two alone.”

“And then what?”

Dorcas’s grin widened. “Then, you’re going to talk to him.”

"Talk?" you repeated, your voice squeaking slightly.

"Yep," Lily said with a satisfied nod. "Just talk."

"That's the worst plan I've ever heard in my life. Scratch that, not even really a plan. Just the worst I've ever heard."

"You're lashing out 'cause you're scared." Marlene said in a fake-hurt voice, wiping invisible tears from her eyes as Dorcas shoved her.

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning with a hundred different emotions.

“Don’t worry, love," Lily almost cooed at you. "We’ll make sure everything goes perfectly.”

"How?"

"We'll see where the day takes us."

Your eyes flitted between the four of them, realising then that there was no getting out of this, and that you were not sure any of you even knew what this was yet.

You let out a groan as you flopped ceremoniously down on the bed, hiding your face in your eyes.

All girls cheered as they knew that was your sound of defeat, and thus their green flag to go crazy.

The next day, your nerves were buzzing like a poorly-executed Cheering Charm gone wrong. The plan – their plan – was apparently in full swing, and you had absolutely no control over it. In fact, your only plan was to somehow avoid being alone with Regulus Black at all costs.

Despite Dorcas's little lecture to you this morning about just ripping the fucking bandaid off love, gosh, you were entirely not on board anymore. Not that you ever were.

You had tried pleading with them again at breakfast, but they had brushed you off with reassuring pats and sly grins, as if your rising panic was nothing but a trivial detail. And so, here you were, pacing in the common room while the rest of the girls casually lounged, casting side glances at you and whispering like they weren’t blatantly scheming.

“Stop fussing, would you,” Marlene drawled, draped across one of the armchairs, looking far too pleased with herself. “We’ve got it all handled.”

“You’ve got nothing handled,” you hissed, feeling the dread creep up your spine. “You’re going to ruin everything. I mean, what if he freaks out? Or worse – what if he laughs at me?”

Lily, who was lounging with a book in her lap, raised an eyebrow over the top of it. “Y/N, Regulus Black doesn’t laugh at anything that isn’t Junior falling down the stairs. You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, and even if he does freak out,” Dorcas added, casually tossing an apple in the air, “it’s because he’s an emotionally stunted mess, not because he doesn’t like you.”

Your face burned. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

“Trust us, Y/N. We wouldn’t be doing this if we weren’t sure," Marlene groans. "He likes you, okay? He’s just too much of a brooding, melodramatic git to do anything about it.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but before you could, Pandora, ever the quiet voice of reason, gave you a soft smile. “It’ll be okay. Just be honest. You might be surprised by what he says.”

For half a second you dwelled on the fact that Pandora was the one everyone went to as their little therapist, and maybe her reassurance is not just speculation, as with the other girls.

You didn't allow that second to drag out, lest your head explode.

The sincerity in her voice almost made you believe them, though. Yet the idea of being locked in a room with Regulus, of all people, and forced to confront the swirling mess of emotions you had been harbouring for years? That was terrifying.

“I don’t know,” you said, backing toward the door in a desperate attempt to flee. “Maybe we should just–"

Dorcas was quicker than she looked. She slid in front of the exit, blocking your escape route with a triumphant grin. “Nope. You’re staying put.”

Before you could make a break for it, Marlene hopped to her feet, suddenly all business. “Right. It’s time. Pandora, Lily, you ready?”

“Ready,” they both said in unison, as if this were a Quidditch match and not the absolute destruction of your sanity.

“Wait– what’s happening?” you asked, voice rising with panic.

“We’re just going to have a little chat with Regulus,” Lily said with a wink, standing up and smoothing her skirt. “Should only take a minute.”

You watched in horror as the three of them sauntered out of the common room, leaving you in a state of rising dread. Dorcas remained blocking the door, arms crossed and a gleam of determination in her eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, trying one last desperate appeal to her better nature.

“Oh, I really think I do,” she replied with a grin. “Now, be a good sport. You’ll thank me later.”

Dorcas with her quidditch strength, picked you up and carried you to your dormitory despite your many loud protests. She practically shoved you inside, landing awkwardly on the floor, heart pounding in your chest.

“Just… read something and try to relax,” Dorcas called over her shoulder, slamming the door shut behind you. “We’ll handle everything.”

“Dorcas!” you yelped, but she was already gone.

You groaned, pushing yourself up off the floor and onto one of the beds, grabbing a random book from the bedside table in a futile attempt to calm your racing thoughts. It didn’t help.

Not even five minutes later, you heard the faint sound of footsteps outside the door, accompanied by hushed whispers that made your stomach drop.

“Marlene, what are you up to?” you muttered to yourself, sinking lower into the bed. You barely had time to brace yourself before Marlene’s voice echoed from the hallway, far too chipper for the situation.

“Oh, Reggie!” she called out in a sing-song voice that was dripping with false innocence. "I think I saw the creature run in here!"

Your heart immediately stuttered in your chest. No, no, no–

“In behind this... closed door?” came Regulus’s unmistakable voice, low and suspicious. There was always something about his tone, that subtle roughness to his otherwise smooth words, that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Ugh, yes, please go fetch it,” Lily chimed in, her tone too casual to be convincing.

There was a beat of silence, and you could practically feel Regulus’s confusion through the door. “In the girls’s dormitory?” His voice was flat, unimpressed. "Can't you guys?"

"No, you're the one who got an Outstanding in Care of Magical Creatures. Please."

They couldn't be serious. What a master plan.

“It's important, Reg,” Pandora added, ever so softly, but with an edge of persistence that could sway anyone who wasn’t keen on questioning her.

There was another pause, and you held your breath. You could picture Regulus now – his sharp, silver eyes narrowing, a flicker of doubt crossing his face, his brain probably piecing together that whatever this was, it wasn’t something he should agree to. Not even Regulus is immune to charm and coercion from his friends though –and he probably couldn’t fathom the idea of Marlene calling for his help if it weren’t truly necessary – and you clearly heard his reluctant sigh through the door.

“Fine,” he muttered, footsteps nearing the door.

You had just enough time to consider how humiliating it would be to try and throw yourself out the window, but alas, Hogwarts windows didn’t accommodate such escapes.

The door creaked open, and there he was.

Standing in the doorway, looking like the very embodiment of a storm in human form, all brooding energy and understated elegance. His black curls were slightly dishevelled, his usual pristine appearance marred just enough by the casual looseness of his shirt collar, which somehow made him look even more effortlessly intimidating.

He looked around the room, eyes landing on you and widening slightly.

"Oh, hey Y/N, have you seen–"

Before you could answer or before he could even finish his sentence – slam. The door shut behind him with a loud click, the lock snapping into place.

Regulus’s head whipped around, his hand immediately going to the doorknob, shaking it lightly. “What the bloody hell?”

You watched in horror as the unmistakable sounds of footsteps retreated down the hallway, followed by Marlene’s faint, gleeful laughter.

“I’ll kill her,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone.

Regulus sighed deeply, his hand dropping from the door. He turned back to you, jaw tight, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth. "That makes two of us," he said, having clearly heard you across the room that felt increasingly smaller.

You laughed lowly, but couldn't quite meet his eyes.

“So… I’m assuming this beast was part of some master plan.”

You nodded, feeling your face heat up. “Yeah, pretty much.”

There was a heavy silence between you, the kind that felt both unbearably awkward and strangely charged. Regulus stayed by the door, leaning against it as though contemplating whether he could somehow break through it with sheer willpower. You, meanwhile, sat on the bed with your heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to escape the mess your friends had created.

Regulus’s eyes flicked to you, his expression guarded but curious. “You don’t… know what this is about, do you?”

You tried to swallow past the sudden lump in your throat, your fingers gripping the edge of the book like it might anchor you to reality. “I have a guess.”

He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest in that way that made him look even more imposing. “And?”

“And,” you echoed, your voice faltering under the weight of what you were about to say, “they seem to think that locking us in a room together is the perfect opportunity for us to, uh… talk.”

Regulus let out a humourless chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned his back fully against the door. “Talk. Of course. That sounds exactly like something Marlene would come up with.”

There was a pause, and his gaze, which had flickered away momentarily, settled on you again. You could swear his eyes softened ever so slightly as they swept over you – taking in the awkward way you sat on the bed, your hands still gripping the book like it was a lifeline. You noticed the way his shoulders, usually squared with tension, seemed to relax just a fraction, as though being here, with you, wasn’t as unbearable as you had feared.

He cleared his throat, clearly struggling to find something to say. “So… what were you reading?”

“Oh, uh…” You squinted at the title, stifling a laughter as you realised what it was. “It’s, um… Hogwarts, A History.”

Regulus’s lips twitched, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Really? You’re reading that?”

Your face heated even more, and you quickly abandoned the book, tossing it to the side. “Okay, no. I was trying to look busy while panicking over the fact that I was about to be locked in a room with you.”

"You knew?"

"I got a small warning after I was thrown in here."

"By Dorcas or Marlene?" he asked, amusement gleaming in his eyes because he knew you meant it literally.

"Dorcas."

He hummed in approval before his brows furrowed, as if registering your whole conversation, and he took a step closer, his usual guarded exterior slipping just a bit. “Why would that make you panic?”

The one question you didn’t have a safe answer for. You could feel your heart racing again, but there was something about the way he looked at you, something soft and searching in his gaze, that made it impossible to retreat.

You swallowed hard. “Because… I don't know. You’re Regulus Black.”

The words came out in a rush, like they explained everything, and to you, they did. Regulus, though, just stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly, his voice low but noticeably not cold. “Why would my family matter?”

You laughed nervously, standing up from the bed as if that might help calm the chaotic swirl of emotions in your chest. “Not your family. You. Regulus. You’re just... you. You’re smart and brilliant and intimidatingly beautiful and–” You stopped yourself, suddenly horrified by the direction your rant was going. “And it just didn’t seem like you’d ever want to be stuck in a room with me.”

Regulus blinked, his posture stiffening as if your words had physically hit him. For a moment, the usual cool facade he wore cracked, revealing something vulnerable beneath.

“You think I don’t want to be around you?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was an edge of disbelief in it.

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “I mean, yeah. You always seem so distant when I’m around. Like you can’t wait to get away.”

Regulus was silent for a moment, the air between you growing thick with tension. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, quieter. “That’s not because I don’t want to be around you.”

You lifted your eyes to meet his, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice.

He stepped closer, his movements slower, more deliberate, like he was unsure of what he was doing for the first time in his life. “I… avoid you because I don’t know how to be around you without making a fool of myself.”

You blinked, completely thrown by his confession. “What?”

Regulus exhaled a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself. “I’m not good at this – at feelings. At talking, like the girls wanted. You make me feel things I don’t know how to handle. So, I do the only thing I know how to do. I keep my distance.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, a mix of disbelief and hope rising in your throat. “Regulus…”

He met your gaze, and for the first time in the years you had known him, you felt as if you actually saw him in his eyes. The real him.

“I’ve liked you for longer than I care to admit,” he said, his voice low and steady now. “And it scares the hell out of me.”

You felt your breath catch, his words sinking into your chest and settling there, warm and heavy. It was as if the entire world had shifted in that moment, the tension between you now a living, breathing thing, pulsing with the weight of everything left unsaid.

"L– liked me?"

Regulus couldn't do anything but nod.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, stepping closer until you were just a breath away from him. You could see the way his chest rose and fell, his eyes flickering down to your lips for the briefest second before he caught himself, jaw tightening.

“Regulus,” you whispered, the world narrowing to just the space between you. “I’ve liked you too. For so long.”

His breath hitched ever so slightly, eyes wild.

He didn’t respond with words – he didn’t have to. In one swift motion, he closed the remaining gap between you, his hands gently cupping your face as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was tentative, as if both of you were still testing the waters of something too fragile to fully comprehend. Regulus’s hands, cool but steady, cradled your face with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine. The rest of the world faded away – your racing thoughts, your anxieties, the locked door behind you – none of it mattered in that moment.

It was just him. It had always been him.

As the kiss deepened, Regulus’s usual restraint seemed to dissolve, replaced by something raw and urgent. His fingers curled against your skin, one hand suddenly on the small of your back, drawing you closer until there was barely any space left between you. You felt his heart beating against your chest, fast and unsteady, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.

It was everything you had imagined, everything you needed.

You melted into him, lips, body and soul, before you pulled away breathless. The room felt impossibly still around you.

You were both standing there, eyes wide, inches apart, as if neither of you could quite believe what had just happened. Regulus’s lips were still parted, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips and back again, as though he was trying to memorise everything about this moment.

"Do you mean it?" he murmured. You felt his lips brush yours as he spoke.

You didn't need to ask what he meant. Instead you whispered a passionate yes before kissing him again, lingering against him. You could feel him begin to smile against you.

"This is not what I expected to come out of this," you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with a quiet, disbelieving laugh.

Regulus let out a breathless chuckle, one that sounded almost surprised, like he couldn’t quite believe it either. “I can't say I did either.” He paused, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “But I’m not complaining.”

You smiled, warmth flooding your chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, there was no uncertainty hanging between you. Just you and Regulus, and the quiet realisation that maybe, just maybe, all those years of longing and misunderstanding had led you exactly where you were meant to be.

You were about to say something – something witty, maybe, to break the tension – but then–

BANG!

The door flew open, slamming against the wall with such force that both you and Regulus jumped apart, your heads whipping toward the entrance just in time to see Marlene, Lily, Dorcas, and Pandora tumble inside, practically tripping over each other in their mad dash to get through the door.

“There they are!” Marlene shouted, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She pointed dramatically at the two of you, looking like she had just witnessed the Quidditch World Cup. “I told you it would work!”

Lily snorted, pushing past Marlene and raising an eyebrow as she glanced between you and Regulus, both still slightly dishevelled and very much caught in the act. “Honestly, Marlene, you could have given them a few more minutes.”

You groaned, heat rushing to your face as you buried it in your hands. “Were you all just waiting outside the entire time?”

Pandora gave you an apologetic smile, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. It made her look all the more like Evan. “We were just… keeping an eye on things.”

Regulus, who had taken a deliberate step back when the door burst open, gravitated slightly more towards you again as he ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe you lot talked me into this.” For all intents and purposes he looked exasperated – but his lips twitched in amusement.

“Oh, don’t act like you hated it,” Dorcas teased. “You’re welcome for the facilitation by the way.”

“Facilitation?” Regulus repeated, his voice dry as he glanced around the room full of over-enthusiastic matchmakers. “That’s one word for it.”

Marlene was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “I have no words for how pleased I am with myself right now.”

"Evidently." You and Dorcas chorused at the same time, causing you both to giggle, though you tried to stifle it.

“You’re all completely insufferable," you said through an ever-growing smile.

“And yet,” Marlene drawled, throwing an arm around Dorcas’s shoulders, “you love us anyway.”

Regulus caught your eye, and despite the absurdity of the situation and the embarrassment of being ambushed by your meddlesome friends, you couldn’t help but laugh. His lips quirked up in that rare, almost-hidden smile he reserved for moments like this.

“Alright, alright,” Lily said, clapping her hands together as if trying to herd a group of first-years. “Now that this mission is accomplished –” she shot a pointed look at you and Regulus, “– we should probably leave them alone.”

Marlene looked like she was about to protest, but Pandora nudged her toward the door. “Give them some space.”

As they filed out, Marlene shot you one last wink over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I expect all the juicy details later.”

You groaned again, shaking your head as they finally disappeared down the hallway, their laughter echoing faintly behind them. When the door closed with a soft thud, the room seemed impossibly quiet again, save for the soft crackle of the fire in the corner.

You turned back to Regulus, who was watching you with a look that was both amused and affectionate, his usual mask of indifference nowhere to be found. He stepped closer to you, arms circling around your waist.

"Your friends are idiots," he said with no real malice in his tone.

"Yeah, but so are we."

In privacy with you, Regulus's smile widened in a way that made your stomach flip, as he leaned in for another kiss.

[volchitsa-of-winterfell]

the way patrick zweig is so clearly a creature of desire; so fundamentally hungry. always devouring, uncaring of how desperate he might appear for it—taking a bite of the line judge's bagel sandwich before he even sits down; scarfing down his hotdog before grabbing a bite of art's, and then later treating their churros exactly the same way; picking the cigarette that tashi slapped out of his mouth up off the literal alleyway street so he can finish smoking it. acting on his hungers without asking permission first.

the way art donaldson is comfortable expressing desire without acting on it; content to yearn. mr. i-do-what-she-says-and-then-i-win obediently drinks his green juices, his electrolyte mixes; he lays his heart on the table for tashi, twice, and lets her decide when to take it; he tells her he wants to kiss her, but then lets her come to him to actually do it. a lapdog, just like patrick says: he'll turn his pleading eyes to you, desire writ across every line of him, but he is too well-bred to ever snap and just take.

....except, of course, with patrick; but even then, only when he can sublimate his desire for patrick into the appearance of desire for another woman. snapping at the churro when patrick calls him out over sowing doubt in his relationship with tashi is the obvious one, but also the fact that art is the one to come first in their mutual-masturbation experience when talking about kat zimmerman (how much of it was because of miss zimmerman and how much of it was art letting himself imagine patrick with her?). patrick, in the churro scene, describes it as seeing art "lit up about something," and while he's not wrong i think it's more specific than that. art feels deeply, keenly, but he guards the flames of his desire so carefully; banks them down and keeps the embers glowing for years. tashi is content to meet art halfway, to take the quiet longing invitations he extends. patrick is not. his desire, his hunger, is bigger than that. he wants to see sparks fly. how perfect, then, that he is the only one who can bring that out of art. he does exactly that with the racket-neck signal, and art (once he's over his shock) is once again lit up; ready to take the win, not to have it handed to him.

the way tashi duncan understands them both, perfectly, from their very first night in that hotel room that was so formative for all three of them. she kisses art first, because she already knows that if she kissed patrick first, art would take that as a rejection and retreat; put his desire away. she kisses art first because she knows patrick will not give up on his own desires that easily. she understands how to stoke art's desires and how to temper patrick's and teach him patience. and because of that, she gets them both: she doesn't have to choose.

[favefandomimagines]

The Alchemy (j.m)

Request: @mrslestappen “May I request ( shy!Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank ) pleaseeeeee, where she has been friends with the boys just like Kie, (Kie, her and Sarah were the trio of friends) and after they reconciled she is super happy because she has her two best friends back. And let's just say JJ has a soft spot for her, even though she's a kook he's always taken care of her. And they have matching necklaces (the shark tooth one, let's just say that when he got his he also created hers and they have always had matching necklaces) + kind of obsessed with her (in a nice way) and let's say because she's always been with the guys she's never really been in a relationship so imagine the reaction JJ would have if she tells him she wants him to be her first kiss (first kiss is soft, second one is hot/possesive poor JJ will devour her, because only he knows how long he waited) and the rest I'll leave it up to you. (In my head this sounded better sorry)”

Summary: she always was going to pick him, he just needed to show her.

JJ Maybank didn't think he'd ever like a Kook. Hell, he didn’t think he’d ever even tolerate one. The Kooks were the people who had everything he and the other Pogues didn’t.

They were the rich kids on the other side of the island, the ones with trust funds, yachts, and pristine lives. JJ had seen enough of their type to last a lifetime, and he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual.

Except for her.

Her name was Y/N Y/L/N, and she was the only Kook JJ had ever been able to stomach. In fact, he more than just "stomached" her — he adored her.

He couldn't remember when it started, but he was pretty sure it was around the time he realized girls were more than just annoying distractions during surf sessions.

Somewhere between scraped knees on the beach as kids and sharing late-night bonfire confessions, Y/N had become more than just his friend.

She wasn’t like the rest of the Kooks. Y/N might have lived in one of the fanciest houses on Figure Eight, but she didn’t act like it. She hung out with JJ, John B, and Pope since they were kids, running wild through the marshes and crashing parties on the Cut.

Her mom used to be close with John B’s mom before she left, which meant Y/N spent almost as much time in the Chateau as John B himself. She was their bridge between worlds, best friends with Kie and, surprisingly, even got along with Sarah Cameron after their recent reconciliation.

JJ had given her a shark tooth necklace that matched his own back when they were kids, and she had worn it ever since. The necklace was a symbol, a quiet testament to their shared adventures and secrets.

It rested just below her collarbone, a constant reminder that she belonged with the Pogues, even if she didn’t entirely fit into their world.

For the most part, JJ was content just having her around. But sometimes, like right now, with the sun setting over the water and Y/N laughing at something John B had said, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his chest that he wanted more. More than just her friendship, more than just stolen glances and the occasional accidental brush of hands.

||

It was one of those hot, sticky Outer Banks afternoons when Y/N came to find him. JJ was at the dock, cleaning up the HMS Pogue, when he saw her walking toward him. She looked like sunshine personified, with her long hair catching the light and her eyes sparkling as if she held the secrets of the universe.

“Hey, JJ,” she greeted, her voice light and carefree, but there was something nervous in the way she bit her lip.

“What’s up, Princess?” he asked, straightening up and wiping his hands on his jeans.

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her fingers toying with the shark tooth necklace he had given her. “I, uh, need to talk to you about something.”

JJ’s heart sank a little, the teasing grin on his face faltering. Usually, that phrase meant bad news. “What did you do this time? Burn down another country club?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but laughed. “No, JJ, not this time. It’s… it’s about a guy.”

JJ froze. “A guy?” he echoed, feeling like the ground had just shifted beneath him.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice softening. “I… I got asked out on a date.”

JJ’s stomach dropped, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He’d always known this day would come eventually, but he wasn’t prepared for how much it would hurt. “Who?” he managed to ask, trying to keep his voice steady.

“His name’s Trevor. He’s new in town, just moved here from Wilmington,” she explained, her eyes flicking to JJ’s face to gauge his reaction.

He knew the guy — tall, dark hair, probably some rich Kook kid whose family had money to burn. JJ felt the jealousy bubble up, hot and fierce. “And when’s this date supposed to happen?”

“Tomorrow night,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The girl he’d been in love with for years was going on a date with some random guy who had just waltzed into town. “Do you even like this dude?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted, looking genuinely conflicted. “But… what if he tries to kiss me?”

JJ’s jaw clenched. “Then tell him to back off,” he snapped, his temper flaring.

Y/N sighed, her shoulders slumping. “It’s not that simple, JJ. I’ve never… I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

The admission hung in the air between them, and JJ felt his heart stutter. Y/N, the girl who could light up a room with just her smile, had never had her first kiss. It was almost unfathomable. He swallowed hard, trying to tamp down the tidal wave of emotions crashing over him.

“Y/N…” he began, not sure what to say.

“I know it’s dumb,” she said quickly, looking down at her feet. “But I don’t want to mess it up. What if I’m terrible at it?”

He wanted to laugh because there was no way in hell she’d be bad at anything. “Are you seriously asking me for kissing advice?” he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. “Actually… I was hoping you could… you know… be my first kiss.”

JJ’s mind went blank. Of all the things he expected to hear, that wasn’t one of them. He stared at her, trying to wrap his head around the idea that the girl he’d been crazy about for years was asking him to be her first kiss. But not because she wanted him in that way — no, it was just so she wouldn’t screw up with some other guy.

“Y/N, are you serious?” he asked, his voice a low rasp.

She nodded, her cheeks turning pink. “I trust you, JJ. I know you won’t make it weird.”

Too late for that, he thought bitterly. But he couldn’t say no to her, not when she was looking at him like that. “Alright,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But if I’m gonna be your first kiss, I’m not gonna half-ass it.”

Her eyes sparkled with gratitude, and she took a step closer to him.

They stood on the dock, the sun casting golden light over the water. JJ’s heart was pounding in his chest as Y/N moved even closer, so close he could feel her breath on his skin. He could see the nervous flutter of her eyelashes, the way her lips parted just slightly.

“Just… close your eyes, okay?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotions he couldn’t quite name.

Y/N nodded, her eyes fluttering shut, her lips trembling ever so slightly. JJ took a deep breath, his hand moving up to gently cup her cheek. His thumb brushed against her skin, and he could feel her shiver under his touch.

Then, with a tenderness he didn’t even know he was capable of, JJ leaned in and kissed her.

It was soft, gentle, the kind of kiss that could be over in the blink of an eye if you weren’t careful. But for JJ, it felt like the world had stopped. Her lips were warm and soft against his, and he could feel the way her fingers clutched at his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing hard, their eyes locked.

“How was that?” he asked, his voice barely more than a rasp.

Y/N was staring at him, her eyes wide and dazed. “That was… perfect,” she whispered. But then, as if realizing herself, she shook her head. “But maybe… one more time? Just to make sure I’ve got it?”

JJ’s breath hitched. This time, he didn’t hold back. He kissed her again, harder, more desperate, like he was trying to pour every unsaid word and unspoken feeling into that kiss. His hands cupped her face, Y/N melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair, and he was lost. He was completely and utterly lost in her.

When they finally broke apart, they were both gasping for air. JJ rested his forehead against hers, his hands still cradling her face. “Don’t go on that date, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his. And then she smiled, that beautiful, sunlit smile that he loved so much. “Yeah… I think I need to cancel that date,” she said softly.

||

It wasn’t long before the rest of the Pogues found out. Kie was ecstatic, practically tackling Y/N in a hug when she found out, while John B just grinned knowingly. Pope was the most surprised, but even he seemed happy for them.

“Finally!” Kie exclaimed, throwing her arms around JJ and Y/N “I was wondering how long it would take you two to figure it out.”

JJ just grinned, pulling Y/N close to his side. “Better late than never, right?”

The group celebrated their newfound relationship with a bonfire at the beach, laughter and music filling the night air. JJ couldn’t keep his hands off Y/N, whether it was holding her hand or wrapping an arm around her waist. He’d spent so long wanting this, and now that he had it, he wasn’t letting go.

As the night drew to a close, JJ pulled Y/N aside, away from the others. “I’m glad you picked me,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes shining. “I always would have picked you, JJ. I just needed you to show me first.”

He kissed her again, slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that felt like coming home. And for the first time in his life, JJ Maybank felt like he had everything he ever wanted.

The waves crashed around them, the world fading away until it was just the two of them, lost in each other. The Pogues cheered in the background, but JJ didn’t hear any of it.

All he could focus on was the girl in his arms, the girl who had always been more than just a Kook, more than just a friend. She was everything.

And she was his.

[100vern]

hang up if u want to | kmg

he's in japan. you're at home, knowing there's no point in staring at your phone, waiting. mingyu might not wanna define what the two of you are, but that certainly doesn't stop him from asking for what he wants.

pairing: idol!mingyu x f. reader genre: situationship au; a lil angst, smut warnings: swearing. sexting — use of gendered terms for genitalia, mentions of oral and penetrative sex, masturbation, images/videos, dirty talk i guess?, squirting. one mention of reader wearing a dress. another mention of reader wearing mingyu’s shirt and it being large on her. (not meant to be an indication of size—that mf is just so large i think most people would drown in his clothes.) mingyu is domineering and kind of brat tamer-y but i wouldn't say this is dom-y at all. he also uses the term "baby" a lot bc i refuse to use y/n. rating: explicit. minors dni. wordcount: 3.6k listen to: namasenda - dare (pm) / khalid, 6lack, ty dolla $ign - otw / keshi - like i need u / edward maya & vika jigulina - stereo love / monsta x - addicted / brockhampton - sugar / shy martin - good together author's note: hello, i barely text men let alone sext them, so if this sucks my bad. i'm also not 100% comfy for writing any groups outside of bts, so i'm also sorry if the characterization is off. the mingyu brainrot was brainrotting tho bc if there's one thing he's gonna do it's look hot holding his phone in a photo, so. here we are. i was gonna wait and post this tomorrow but it's valentine's day so fuck it we ball. thank you: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, & @effortandmore for checking this over and brainstorming with me. namasenda for the lyrics in the title and inspo.

Kim Mingyu Missed Call (2)

Your eyes glance upwards at the time. It’s nearing one a.m.; Mingyu’s second call came and went only a few minutes ago. The first one will have come not long after he got off stage, because they always do. There’s a script—unspoken and unacknowledged, but a script nonetheless—and Mingyu follows it religiously.

You sigh. Leave your phone on your nightstand as you change into pajamas, back into the bathroom to wash your face. Roll your eyes as you hear the texts roll in, the sound grating and ominous as it vibrates against the wood.

All part of the script.

Kim Mingyu: just got back to the hotel Kim Mingyu: you up

Also part of the script: this is the only way it goes. Maybe Mingyu wants to text you, but adrenaline’s the only reason he ever goes through with it. That post-concert high, nothing else to do with all that energy but invest it into you, and the thing about scripts is that they get old, grow stale. Always the same thing, and you can only have that conversation so many times before you get tired and rip it up.

We all have roles to play. Mingyu is the one who refuses to define what it is the two of you have, put a label on it. He’s the one who calls from countries away and speaks in that low, hushed tone. He’s the tempter, the one who holds all the cards but refuses to lay them down.

A royal flush, every single time.

And you—you’re not helpless. Not some poor creature fighting for its life in a spun-silk web. Mingyu’s capable of devouring you in more ways than one, but it’s not like that. Not really. As laissez-faire as he is, you come and go as you please, too. Perhaps it’s as mutually beneficial as it is destructive, but that’s the nature of the production; the result of the roles you two of you play.

Kim Mingyu: you ignoring me? Kim Mingyu: i saw your ig story Kim Mingyu: knock it off baby

You smile, private and sardonic, because you aren’t helpless. Sometimes it’s your web, and it’s all Mingyu can do to keep his head above water. Another role you’d borrowed from someplace else but still have memorized. Still remember all the lines, the mannerisms.

On your story: a video of you, bare skin glittering beneath the golden-fluorescent light of your bathroom; you, with your dress unzipped, the straps slipping down your arms; your hand pressed to your chest to keep yourself covered. Your back turned to the camera, visible only in the mirror, as the silk dropped to the floor.

In the settings: only two accounts given permission to see, both belonging to the same person.

In your DMs: Mingyu, on his private account with the username that looks more like a keysmash than any legible thing, reacting with the fire emoji.

Related: the image hovering just above Mingyu’s texts. The one he’d repaid you with not long after seeing your story. A mirror selfie of his own: grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, a soaked-through white t-shirt stuck to his stomach, the lines of his abs visible.

That, and everything below it—all left unanswered.

The thing about Mingyu is he’ll give chase. Doesn’t shy away from all the things he wants; isn’t shy about giving voice to them.

But he’ll never, ever beg.

(Not like this, at least. When he’s in your bed it’s always a different story. He’s a kept man, there, and kept men have no qualms about things like that. Begging for your mouth, your pussy. Begging you to let him come.)

Normally you’d let it go. Let him talk to himself in your texts, because he’s got a lot of nerve if nothing else, but you’d gone out earlier. Grabbed a few drinks with your girlfriends, let the alcohol thrum through you like a livewire. Watched as they danced with men whose names they didn’t know and never learned and thought about what it’d be like to be able to do something like that in public.

Got home, felt a little scorned, just on the edge of bitter. Made a show of taking your dress off in the bathroom mirror and posted it someplace you knew he’d look.

You: did you like it?

Rhetorical. Mingyu may not want to put a label on this thing, might not want to be caged-in and suffocated, but you know what you do to him. All the ways you affect him.

i could tell you, comes the immediate reply, and your eyes are halfway rolled when—

Kim Mingyu: or i could show you

It takes a second to come through, but once it does your breath hitches in your throat. Far from the most obscene image he’s ever sent you, but just as effective. An expanse of tanned, soft skin, lean muscle; still in those same grey sweats, bunched up a little on the thigh as he lays in his plush hotel bed with his legs spread.

At the center of it all, the outline of his hard, thick cock, so fucking big as it stretches the fabric taut.

All you can do is stare.

Mingyu is not of this earth. This thought is nothing new: he has always existed outside the realm of possibility, in more ways than one, so this is merely a fact. Grass is green, the sky is blue, sometimes you can love someone in a way that’s so overwhelming and still be no good for them.

Another fact: it’s primal, the way you need him. Always has been.

You: what am i looking at? You: new sweatpants?

On the other end of the line, it’s easy to imagine his reaction. A quick snort of laughter, tongue pressed into the fat of his cheek before he clenches his jaw. If he were here, he’d haul you into his lap, kiss you deep and messy. Trail his fingers along your skin until they settled in the hollow of your throat.

Pull away just for a second. Just long enough to say, “Watch your mouth,” before he’s licking into it.

Kim Mingyu: don’t be like that 🙄

This time your eyes fully roll. Spitefully, you snap a picture of what’s in front of you: your bedroom wall, some drama playing on the TV, a sliver of amber light from the lamp next to you.

You send it.

You: while we’re sending pictures of irrelevant shit

Truth be told, you’re not like this often, but you get a streak of it every now and then. Only ever at times like this, when the two of you haven’t seen one another in a while and the distance between you is still so ambiguous, untitled.

Usually Mingyu will come by your place. Get you stripped down to almost nothing, have you writhing on his fingers. Then, in between satisfied groans, he’ll slap at your thighs, tell you to stop being a brat.

Kim Mingyu: then send me something worthwhile You: you first

Another beat of silence. Long enough to flick through the channels, plug in your phone, let some of that heat dissipate.

Your phone chimes, and when you look down—

Those grey sweats are long gone, replaced with a pair of black briefs barely containing his cock, still hard and curved toward his stomach. You swallow. Let your eyes linger on the corded muscle of his thighs, all that soft skin. Let your mind remind you, just for a second, how it feels beneath your fingertips, your hands, your mouth.

All the sounds he makes.

Kim Mingyu: is that better Kim Mingyu: is that what you wanted

Unbidden, the corners of your mouth lift. hm… close but no, you type out. Let it sit for a few seconds before you delete it. If Mingyu wants to be a tease, you can do the same.

You situate yourself against the pillows. Angle your phone so the length of your body is visible: your bare legs twisted in the sheets, the bruise Mingyu had sucked into the inside of your thigh before he left just barely making it into the frame. What’s fully visible, though: his shirt that’s draped over your frame, how much it engulfs you, the way you’re drowning in it. In him.

You send it.

You: depends... is this what you wanted?

The response is immediate:

Kim Mingyu: absolutely not. take it off baby.

You’ve starred in this production before, knew where it was headed the second you saw the missed calls, so you’d put on his favorite of your underwear. Skimpy red lace, part of a set he’d had sent to your apartment. Used to tell you in desperate whispers how ruined he was seeing you in them; used to have to rein himself in so he didn’t rip them off.

So you snap another photo. Spread your legs a little further, pull the hem of Mingyu’s shirt between your teeth. Know seeing that sliver of your stomach will drive him crazy, too, but it’ll pale in comparison to the underwear.

You consider video calling him. Want to see his face when you send this photo—the pinch of his brows, the slight drop of his jaw. The way he’ll whimper a little, say baby in that tone that floods you with heat: a little desperate, all hushed awe, bordering on a whine.

The same kind of heat that starts to creep back in again. There’s power in desire, in being desired, and even though you’re here and Mingyu’s in a hotel room in Japan, you can still feel it. Subconscious, like some kind of red string shit. Anticipatory.

Kim Mingyu: goddamn Kim Mingyu: you wear those for me? Kim Mingyu: fuck, i wish i was there to take them off of you

You suck in a breath. and if you were? you send back.

Kim Mingyu: you know that pair is my favorite Kim Mingyu: drives me crazy every time you wear that set Kim Mingyu: but i’ve changed my mind. i want you to keep them on Kim Mingyu: want you to keep my shirt on too You: yeah? you want me to wear your shirt while you fuck me? pull my panties to the side? Kim Mingyu: slow down baby, i’m taking my time with you

In your bed, you snort to yourself. Mingyu has never been patient with anything, but especially not with you. Most of the time he’s so keyed up, wound so tight, that it’s all the two of you can do to make it to your bed—and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes Mingyu puts all that body to use, presses your back to the wall and throws your legs over his shoulders as he eats you out. Wraps your legs around him as he fucks you right there, the slide so, so easy with how wet and messy he gets you.

You remind him of as much. Type out, you? taking your time? i’ve got a couple walls in my entryway that would say differently, and laugh when the reply comes through—can’t help myself sometimes—and promptly stop laughing at the next one: never can, with you.

Kim Mingyu: have i ever told you what i love the most? Kim Mingyu: just kissing you. you always taste so good, baby Kim Mingyu: the way you get so worked up and start grabbing at me when i’m doing it. the way you try to get me to touch you. the way you start grinding your pussy on me like you can’t go another second without me inside you

You feel like you’re on fire. Gets worse with every word you read and re-read, try to commit to memory. You know it all too well, what he’s talking about. Know how warm his skin is, how firm he feels under your touch. Know what he tastes like. How soft his lips are. The way he sounds when you start to writhe, the way he groans when he presses tighter against you, presses you into the mattress, hard cock rutting against you, enough to take the edge off but nowhere near what he needs.

You: love that too You: love when you’re inside me even more

Kim Mingyu: me too baby Kim Mingyu: love the way you feel around me Kim Mingyu: always so fucking tight Kim Mingyu: ffuck

Your stomach drops at his last message. are you touching yourself? you type, even though you already know the answer. Another sight you’re blessed to know: Mingyu’s hand wrapped around himself, how the size of his cock makes it look small in comparison. Head tilted back, abs flexing under the weight of the pleasure.

You get a singular character in reply: 응.

show me.

He doesn’t respond right away. The pause is enough to have anticipation thrumming through your veins, make you a little shaky. Your hand trembles as you trace patterns into your warm, soft skin, pretending it’s Mingyu’s touch and not your own. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that grabs at your breast beneath his shirt, thumbs over your nipple; Mingyu’s touch that has soft gasps escaping you. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that dips beneath the hem of your panties.

Kim Mingyu Attachment: 1 Movie

On the screen: Mingyu’s face greets you first, eyes half-lidded and hazy, the corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk. He tilts his head back, lets you see the sweat-slick skin of his neck, the column of his throat; pans the camera down over his collar bones, his bare chest, before he flips the screen. Can barely fit the entirety of his frame in the shot, and it strikes you someplace deep, how big he is. How overwhelming.

You suck in a breath as your eyes focus—as you take in the way he’s stroking himself. His cock glistens with whatever lube he’d indulged in, but you can’t help but pretend it’s from you and your mouth. Wish you could see the way he’d touch himself as you sucked him nearly to orgasm and told him to finish himself off. The way he’d whine, beg a little, get a little shitty with you.

“Fuck,” you say out loud. You can feel your pupils blow at the thought.

“Jagiya,” comes Mingyu’s voice, intertwined with the sounds of the tv, a city so far away from you, “fuck, I’m so fu-fucking hard.”

If you’d thought you were on fire before, it’s nothing compared to now. Hearing the need in his voice, watching the way he’s touching himself. The way his hips stutter as his body seeks out more, more, more, always more, and the way he squeezes the base of his cock so he doesn’t come too soon.

“Wish it was you. Wish it was you touching me like this. I—fuck, need you so bad.”

You watch as Mingyu strokes over the head of his cock, as each subsequent pass gets more tacky and wet. Lick your lips at the sight of it. Want, more than anything, to get your mouth on him and taste the salt of his skin, the precome he’s jerking himself off with.

Before he even needs to ask, you start recording a video of your own. Leave your panties on because you know he’d want you to. Record the first pass of your fingers through your slick, let out a disbelieving little laugh at how wet you are, how you can hear it. Moan as you dip a finger into your cunt, just to the first knuckle. Say, “I’m so wet, Gyu, oh my god,” all breathy.

Not all that different from how you sound when he’s here. When he’s flesh and blood and right beside you, on top of you.

You use the wetness you’ve gathered and move your hand to your clit. It’s throbbing beneath your touch, your body already wound too tight, and you nearly hiss in oversensitivity and relief when you finally touch yourself the way you’ve wanted to. “Fuck.”

You force yourself to take your time. Slow, small circles, when everything in your body is screaming to be selfish, begging for release the same way Mingyu’s had.

“Should I finger myself?” you ask. A sharp inhale as your next pass has your toes curling. “Wo-won’t feel as good as you, but I need—need more.”

Before you cut the video, you zoom in a little. Make sure Mingyu will be able to see the way you’re touching yourself, be able to hear the sound of your arousal, the same sounds that have warmth blooming in your cheeks.

Kim Mingyu: jesusf fuck Kim Mingyu: god baby youre so hto Kim Mingyu: wanna see you finger yourself Kim Mingyu: please

It’s a little embarrassing, how incapable you are of denying him anything. You trust him implicitly, love him even more, so it’s second nature to give in, to adjust your phone so you don’t have to hold it. Second nature to press record, pull your panties to the side just like you’d proposed earlier; second nature to make a show of sticking two fingers in your mouth, sucking on them, before bringing them to your entrance and easing them inside.

Nothing compared to the stretch of Mingyu, both his fingers and his cock, but it’s still good. Enough to have you sighing softly, barely audible over the sound of everything else: the rustling of your sheets, the low thrum of your own television, you in general.

A rhythmic song and dance. Practiced. You grow wetter with each push and pull; know Mingyu will be able to see it, the way you work yourself open. That, too, has you a little dizzy. Breathless. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Not only like this, but all the time. Does he see an expiration date? Something good while it lasted? Is there just this—something carnal and superficial?

Or does he just see you?

It drives you crazy. Inspires something within you: not just the desire to please him, make it worth his while, but to be something else, something more than this. Has your fingers moving a little faster, has you grinding your clit against the palm of your hand. Has you a whining, writhing mess; has sounds spilling out that you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard come out of you.

You send it before you can overthink it. Whatever Mingyu sees in you, at least these are the images that’ll play in his mind whenever he thinks of you. At least you’ve sunk your claws into him.

Seconds pass in a blur. You’re still on the brink of a mind-numbing orgasm, stuck in this liminal space simply because Mingyu isn’t here, and you know, too, how this goes. Know you aren’t supposed to come without his say-so in the same way he edges himself until he gets yours.

Kim Mingyu: shit shit shit Kim Mingyu: i wish that was me. wanna take you apart like that. wanna finger you while i eat you out, make you squirt all over me again Kim Mingyu: fuck i thin k about that all the time Kim Mingyu: im gonna cum

I think about that all the time.

So do you. You, on your hands and knees, Mingyu eating you out from behind. Bracing yourself against the headboard with one arm, the other one reaching behind you to pull at his hair. You remember how relentless he’d been that night. A man possessed. Disregarded all your breathless pleas, every Mingyu, Gyu, fuck, fuck, Mingyu, baby— that left your mouth. His tongue left your pussy only long enough to say, you can take it, baby before he was right back at it. Before he worked in two fingers alongside his mouth. Before his free hand came down hard on your ass, the sting startling you, making you jerk, forcing you closer to his mouth.

You remember coming with a scream. You remember coming to with Mingyu’s lips to your neck, the sweet way he was speaking to you. You remember the knee-jerk embarrassment you felt when you saw the giant wet spot you’d left on the bed and how quickly it dissipated when Mingyu pressed a kiss to your temple, called you his good girl.

You: you can come, but you know the rule

You move your fingers back to your clit, feel all that pleasure flood back, start in your toes. It’s not long before you’re pulling a blistering orgasm from your body—one that feels like it belongs to Mingyu, wasn’t yours for the taking.

thank you, he replies, right beneath a photo of his abs streaked with cum.

The comedown is jarring. You feel both too big for your body and completely out of sorts now that you’ve fulfilled your role. Now that there’s nothing to do but sit in the stillness of your bedroom, that same drama playing on television, some girl getting her heart broken.

You wonder if Mingyu’s thinking the same. If his body also sags with relief, if the absence of all that tension feels crushing. If the first thought he has in this newfound clarity is also I love you and if he also swallows it down every single time. You wonder if he thinks about his role, if it’s becoming stale and tired.

Because you know what comes next:

Kim Mingyu: i’ll be home soon Kim Mingyu: can i see you

And you also know what you’ll say. After all, you’ve played this role before.

if you've made it this far thank you so much for reading! this is prob not my best work since it's a lil rushed but i needed something to get me out of my slump.

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

[joelscurls]

give in to temptation

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

words: 5.5k

summary: you're in a relationship now — a good, healthy relationship — that doesn't stop you from texting your ex Javi late at night.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, post Narcos s3, porn with plot, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit smut, sexting, infidelity (I do not condone cheating, but unfortunately it's hot when it's with Javi), reference to masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, use of pet names (cariño, querida, baby, etc.); lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: hi! enjoy 5kish words of dubious morals bc I couldn't get this idea out of my head :)

Humidity clings to the walls, bedsheets strewn across your legs damp with sweat. You kick at them aimlessly, and the cotton grips tighter to slick skin.

In the curve of your palm rests your phone, ringer switched off and brightness turned all the way down — the last thing you want is to wake your boyfriend, dozing next to you as you text another man.

Your fingers are clammy where they wrap around metal, sweat pooling in the divots between your knuckles. 

This is wrong; you know it’s wrong, just like every time preceding this one. But the guilt does nothing to slow the adrenaline racing through your veins. If anything, it makes your heart thump harder.

That, and the words pixelated on the tiny screen of your flip-phone.

Javi [2:03am]:  I’ve been thinking about you all day, cariño. Got me so hard.

You’d met Javier Peña just over a year ago. 

A young woman alone at the bar, you’d drawn him in like a moth to a flame. He had dark brooding eyes and a savior complex that’d been made more apparent with each story he’d shared about his time as a DEA attaché in Colombia, from which he’d recently returned.

Do you miss it? you’d asked, nursing a martini.

Like hell, he’d said. But I have nothing left to give.

I don’t know if I believe you, you’d countered with a wink.

Not an hour later, you’d found yourself in his living room, dress hiked up to your waist as he devoured you. 

Sex with Javi was easy, mindless. For a while, his body served as a refuge for you after shitty days at work and arguments with your overbearing mother. A lone beacon in the fog, he was always more than willing to help you forget the stressors in your life. And your own name.

It was passionate, and filthy, and sticky — left your legs trembling and your head dizzy — each and every time. 

With him, you didn’t have to talk. Didn’t have to think. It was just sex, with no strings and no labels. Your relationship, if you could call it that, was perpetuated by the transcendent pleasure you felt in the spaces between words, when your mouths were preoccupied.

But when your birthday came and went and you found yourself another year older, an aching feeling settled in your gut — a feeling that time had begun to pass more quickly than it used to. And on its heels came the desire for something more, something you knew Javi was not willing to provide: a relationship.

The decision to end things was mutual, amicable. It was the easiest “breakup” you’d ever gone through. Maybe because it wasn’t a “breakup” at all.

A few weeks later, you’d met Nathan, a law student with a polite disposition and an eagerness to settle down. He’d treated you well, the type to open doors for you and ask about your day. On all fronts, he was a good man — a little boring, but good.

After a month, you made it official. After two, he moved into your place.

And you stopped thinking about Javi, about the way his large hand had fit perfectly around your throat, the way he’d been able to coax you to orgasm in two different languages. No, you only thought about the man in front of you, the one with the steadily growing collection of argyle ties and the unstamped passport.

Sex with Nathan was admittedly different. He didn’t make you cum as quickly or as easily; your body didn’t crave his with the same amount of fervor it had Javier’s. But it was loving, sweet, what any woman would want…should want.

And it was normal that you thought about your ex sometimes when your current partner laid his weight on top of you, that you imagined a different mouth slotted against your neck or on your tits. Because certainly, everyone did that every once in a while. It was harmless.

As long as you never uttered his name out loud, he’d remain only in your head, lost to time to exist there forevermore.

But then came the day in the grocery store, on your date to the cereal aisle to restock Nathan’s favorite, bran flakes. He’d materialized like a ghost of good sex’s past.

You didn’t dare speak to him, didn’t trust yourself to. Under the bright fluorescent lights, you’d felt your palms begin to sweat, your throat constrict, eyes glued to the selection of boxes in front of you. But while Nathan debated between store brand and name brand, you’d snuck another cautious glance at him.

Javi’s expression was unreadable. He’d looked between you and Nathan as if he were trying to solve a rubix cube. One he was becoming increasingly frustrated by. He’d gripped the handle of his shopping cart so tightly, the skin on his knuckles appeared near translucent.

And then he’d disappeared, tiny wheels on the carriage screeching, noise barely audible over your pulse.

The first text came later that night.

Are you seeing someone? it’d read.

Yes, you’d replied. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk. 

You’d quickly established ground rules: messages would only be exchanged after midnight, never two nights in a row, no calls, and — most importantly — Nathan would never find out.

Okay, Javi had said. Just one more rule: don’t use his name with me.

To your right, Nathan snores, the singular catch of an inhale in his throat, and the noise jolts you, face heating as if you’ve been caught.

Then he shifts, turns on his side, away from you. You feel a strange wash of relief. A semblance of privacy that you shouldn’t be after.

You respond to Javier with your tongue between your teeth.

You [2:04am]: thinking about me doing what?

Javi [2:06am]: Riding me. Your tits in my face. My hands on your ass.

 Your breath catches, attention abruptly pulled to the incessant throbbing between your legs.

You definitely shouldn’t sneak to the bathroom and touch yourself. Shouldn’t send Javi a grainy photo of your fingers in your panties. Shouldn’t make yourself cum with your ex-lover’s name on your lips.

Not for the third time this week.

But when your cunt inadvertently clenches around nothing, your judgment is suddenly clouded.

With one last glance at the sleeping form beside you, you clamber to your feet and tiptoe down the hallway, wetness dripping down your thighs as you go.

The bathroom door closes with a quiet click. You fumble for the lightswitch, eyes reflexively squeezing shut when the room brightens. 

You hover over the sink, steadying yourself against porcelain with one hand while you type furiously with the other.

You [2:10am]: yeah? you wanna suck on my tits?

The mirror parallel you reflects something out of a thriller, your pupils fully dilated and your forehead glistening with sweat. You almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at you in all her depravity.

You slump to the floor. Rest with your back to the side of the tub. 

Javi [2:11am]: Dying to. Always felt so fucking perfect in my mouth.

Desperate fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, into your panties. The phone balances precariously in your other hand, thumb stumbling over buttons on the keypad.

You [2:12am]: I miss your cock.

Javi [2:13am]: That’s right, querida. Best you ever had, huh?

You [2:13am]: Yes. Always made me feel so fucking good. 

Javi [2:15am]: Fuck. Are you touching yourself?

You swirl two digits at your entrance, amply coating them in your slick before dragging them up to your swollen clit. You can’t stifle the moan that slips past your lips.

You [2:16am]: yes

Javi [2:16am]: good girl

The phone distractedly tumbles from your grasp, clinking against tile as you begin to work yourself toward the brink.

And then — there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

The room spins, walls suddenly shrinking in on you as you wrench your hand out of your panties. Nathan’s voice on the other side is muffled, by the exhaust fan and by the ringing in your ears. But you can just decipher his words, his voice laden with sleep.

“Babe? Are you okay? I thought I heard-“

“Fine, I’m uh, I’m fine,” you say, scrambling to your feet, wiping wet fingers on your shorts.

The doorknob jostles, and it dawns on you then that you’d forgotten to fucking lock it.

 “No! Don’t come in,” you sputter. The door hitches, less than an inch cracked. “I just had a stomach ache, but I’m okay now. I’ll be back in bed in a minute.”

“Oh.” He yawns. Pulls it shut again. “Okay.”

You brace yourself against the sink, struggling to slow your racing heart. 

With a flush of the empty toilet, Nathan’s footsteps recede down the hall and out of earshot. You wash your hands, then, fingers shaking under the stream of lukewarm water.

You dry them hastily, not bothering to pick up the towel when it slides off the rail and onto the floor.

You [2:21am]: gotta go. sorry. 

Javi [2:22am]: ???

Nathan is far too kind the following morning. He sets a plate of buttered toast and a mug of peppermint tea out for you on the kitchen table, and presses a nauseatingly gentle kiss to your forehead as you eat.

His amber eyes scan you like he’s searching for any indicators that you’re still hurting, fingers anxiously carding through his sandy hair.

You’re sure he’s clocked the dark circles marking your undereyes — not that he knows the real reason for them.

“I’m fine,” you promise when you feel him staring.

“Are you sure?” he probes. “The noise you made was…intense; you sounded really pained.”

Pained? Not exactly.

“I know.” You stuff the last bite of toast into your mouth. Tilt the empty plate toward him.

“But I’m okay; see? Even have an appetite this morning. It was just a weird bug or something.”

The lie burns on the way out, scalds your throat. But Nathan buys it. Doesn’t ask any further questions.

Still, he tells you to take it easy today on his way out the door.

You can’t look him in the eye when you insist that you will.

You call out of work, too sick with self-loathing to show your face in the office. Instead, you mope around all day, attempt to distract yourself with the overflowing hamper of laundry in the closet.

It’s futile though, your brain paralyzed by thoughts of Nathan finding out about the affair, and the clothes remain unwashed.

He returns that evening with a plastic bag in his clutch, the local pharmacy’s logo printed on the front.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a brand new heating pad. “I realized last night that we didn’t have one of these laying around.”

You know, at that moment, that you need to end things with Javi.

Nathan is good to you. He loves you with actions, not just words. Thinks of you before he thinks of himself, in every situation. And you — you’re cheating on him. Taking advantage of him. Not even trying to be what he deserves.

You’ll try harder. To love him, to think of him. No longer will you give in to brainless, animalistic needs. Surely, you can mimic the passion you have with someone else if you just try. 

Try, try, try. You can do it.

Sleep evades you that night, coming in brief stints and leaving you breathless when you wake. 

In those conscious moments, the analog clock in the corner of the room taunts you, glaring red neon making your head pound.

After three straight hours of tossing and turning, you decide it can’t wait any longer.

You fish your cellphone off the nightstand. Snap it open.

You [3:23am]: We need to end this before things get ugly.

You’re sure he won’t be awake this late; not without reason. But then — the screen blinks.

Javi [3:24am]: Nothing’s going to get ugly. Please, cariño. 

You [3:24am]: I almost got caught last night. I don’t want to hurt him.

Javi [3:25am]: Can we talk about this? Javi [3:25am]: In person?

Your heart palpitates. For a moment, you swear it stops altogether.

You [3:26am]: What the hell? No Javi, I can’t.

Javi [3:27am]: C’mon. Just talk. Don’t you think you owe me that?

Your eyes flit to Nathan. 

You watch him for a long moment: the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slouch of his shoulders, the gape of his mouth.

He’s well and truly asleep. You’re sure you could sneak away without him waking. Slip out the door and get a cab to Javier’s, talk things through, and be back in bed before the sun rises — before Nathan even knows you’ve left. 

And then everything will be just as it was before you messed this up. You can leave Javi in the past, where he belongs. 

Of course, you’re not just going to talk. Deep in your bones, you know that. Know that when he’s there in front of you, you’ll be too weak to resist any of his advances.

Still, you play coy. Ignore the spring of excitement tightening in your abdomen. 

In a move of finality, one which you know you won’t be able to come back from, you stand. Make your way into your closet to pull some pants and a t-shirt on, your cell phone clutched in your hand. 

You [3:30am]: Fine.

Javier sends you his address — as if you’d have forgotten it. As if the name of his apartment complex isn’t permanently etched behind your eyelids, along with the wide slope of his shoulders and the plush of his bottom lip.

When the cab pulls up to the curb, the driver is visibly concerned. His bushy, gray brows thread together and his narrowed eyes catch yours in the rearview more than once on the drive across town.

It’s only when you reach Javi’s building and hand over your fare that the man speaks.

“Are you alright, sweetheart? Quite late for you to be out on your own.” 

His voice crackles, the smell of cigarette smoke heavy on his breath, and it���s strangely comforting. 

“Yeah,” you promise as you push the door open and step out.

He rolls his window down, anxiously watching as you maneuver your way to the front door. And then he’s driving off, headlights vanishing into the thick night.

Javier lets you up on the first buzz. He’s waiting for you in the entryway of his apartment, leaning with a large hand pressed to the doorframe.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him: shirtless, bronze skin cast in the dim yellow light of the corridor. 

His eyes rake over you the moment you’re in front of him, lingering when they catch on your collarbone, your breasts, your legs. He looks so imposing like this. You find yourself unable to move; frozen under his silent, lustful gaze.

“Are you — can I come in?” you ask meekly.

He nods then, a slow lift of his chin. Steps backward into darkness. You will yourself to take one step, and then another, following him over the threshold and past the point of no return.

It feels so odd to be here, in his space, with the intention of doing anything other than fucking. If you look close enough, you swear you can make out the shape of your body imprinted in the couch cushions, can hear lingering echoes of climaxes reached with your face shoved into one of his decorative pillows — can feel them, too.

Arousal pulls between your thighs. You ignore it.

You wonder how many other women have been here since you, have taken Javi in their hands or their mouths or their cunts. How many names that aren’t yours has he chanted in the throes of passion? 

And — moreover — why do you care?

You don’t. You definitely don’t.

Javi pours you a glass of wine, fills a crystal with whiskey for himself. He flicks a lamp on, casting the room in an orange glow, and settles into the couch You follow his lead, perching yourself on one of the arm rests apprehensively.

“So,” you start. “About what we’ve been…doing-“

He cuts you off with a quirk of his brow, a flinch of his jaw. 

“Javi,” you try again. “This has to — we can’t-”

“You’re sure you want to break it off, cariño?” His voice comes out low, dark.

And the thing is — you’re not sure. You wish you were, wish you had the strength to tell him definitively that it’s over, to go home to your boyfriend and block Javi’s number on the way out. 

But the flex of his bicep when he hooks his arm behind his head, the knowing smirk playing on his lips, his cock — which you can’t see, but know is long and thick under his jeans — it all makes your head feel heavy. 

You let the weight of it drop between your shoulders, hang there as you silently search for just a particle of sanity left in your being. You come up empty. 

“Fuck,” you hiss, claw your fingers into your scalp. “This is — fuck.”

Leather groans under Javi’s weight. He stands. Steps in front of you.

You don’t dare look at him, not until he pinches your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze to meet his. His eyes are charcoal-black, something devious swimming behind blown pupils.

“Baby,” he croons. “Why did you really come here?” 

You play dumb. “What do you mean? To — to talk.”

His thumb skates along the underside of your jaw, soft and placating.

“We’re not really gonna talk — are we?”

Your head spins, mind clouded by Javier’s words, his touch. You sense yourself losing resolve just as he pulls you upright by both hands. 

You’re so close like this; can taste the whiskey on his breath, can feel the warmth of his exhale against your skin.

His mouth moves to the shell of your ear, voice a mere whisper when he speaks again.

“Wanna know what I think, querida?” he asks, palm flattening at your lower back, pushing you flush against him. “I think you came here because texting wasn’t enough anymore, huh? Think you missed me.”

And the truth is, you have missed him — painfully so. You’ve missed the timbre of his voice, the caress of his hands, the stretch of his cock. All just in reach, tangible for the first time in so long.

Your need for him borders on carnal. The feeling snakes its way up from your stomach into the cavern of your ribcage, splays its weight across your delicate, pounding heart. 

And then the rational part of your brain whirs weakly to life.

What are you doing?

“I have a boyfriend,” you say. You’re not sure who you’re reminding. 

“Mhm,” Javi mutters, deft fingers peeling the fabric of your t-shirt up, up, up your body. You don’t stop him.

“And does your boyfriend —“ he kneels down, presses a kiss where exposed skin meets denim — “make you feel as good as I do, cariño?”

You can’t answer that. It wouldn’t be right. Because any of this is.

“Javi — I,” you try, cut off abruptly by dull teeth in the flesh of your waist. You yelp, the sweet sting quickly dissipating as he pauses. Pulls back. 

“You can say it,” he goads with a wicked smirk. “I won’t tell him.”

“He — no,” the words leave you before you even feel them in your mouth, and then you’re cursing yourself. You can’t take it back — it’s too late. Javi knows, you know. The only one still in the dark is Nathan. 

Javier says your name. His tone is different, soberingly serious. 

“Tell me to stop.” 

Fuck. 

“Tell me to stop,” he repeats, “and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t,” you whisper, so quiet you barely hear yourself. 

“Cariño-”

“I can’t,” you stammer, louder. “I — fuck, Javi. Please.”

“Please?”

He knows what you’re asking for; he just needs to hear you say it.

“Please fuck me.”

In an instant, he’s standing back up, grasping at your sides and impatiently guiding you onto the couch. He brackets you against the cushions, one hand splayed next to your head on the backrest, the other popping the button of your jeans open. 

You lift your ass as he tugs them down your legs, pulls them past your ankles and leaves them in a heap on the floor. And then he’s moving down your body, kneeling at your altar and prying you open for him.

You surrender to him willingly, desperation growing when he pulls your panties aside and gazes at your glistening sex, transfixed by you.

“This gorgeous pussy,” he hums, leaning down to taste you.

“Yeah?” you breathe. “You miss it?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he groans. Dips his tongue into the apex of your heat, refamiliarizing himself with your nectar before licking a languid stripe up to your throbbing clit.

You writhe under him, beg with wordless whines and whimpers for more. He knows your sounds, knows their tells, soothes you with a gentle shh against your cunt. 

His lips wrap around your clit, then, envelope it completely as he starts to suckle, and the sudden sensation makes you buck your hips.

“Javi — fuck, oh — holy-” 

He retreats, mouth shiny with your arousal. “What is it, baby? Your boyfriend doesn’t eat your pussy like this?”

“He doesn’t,” you admit breathlessly. Javi clicks his tongue. Faux-pouts at you. 

His lips reattach to your clit and you curse.

“Fuck, Javi, he — he’s never-“

The half-admission stops him in his tracks. He stares back up at you with narrowed eyes.

“Cariño, don’t tell me he doesn’t go down on you?”

Your face heats. “He — he says he doesn’t like to do it.”

Suddenly, Javi looks livid.

His fingernails dig into the meat of your inner thighs mindlessly. You watch his lip twitch and his eyes roll to the ceiling.

He’s unaffected by much these days — but Javi clearly doesn’t take kindly to a man not pleasuring his woman. Especially when you are the woman in question.

“Pendejo,” he murmurs. 

“Javi,” you whine. “Please.”

Your pleading voice seems to snap him out of it. Or at least remind him of the task at hand.

He returns his attention to your dripping pussy with one final huff. “Gonna take care of you baby, don’t worry.”

You anchor yourself with fingers of one hand twisted in the dark, sweaty curls at the crown of his head. Two digits on the other pinch at one of your hardened nipples, just as Javier begins to swipe his tongue back and forth over your clit.

“Fuck,” you sigh, draping your trembling legs over his shoulders. 

He licks your cunt like he fears you’re going to melt, lathes over your clit again and again with the wide flat of his tongue. The wet squelch of him slurping at you, eager to catch every last drop of your arousal, bounces off the walls obscenely.

You hope, fleetingly, that his neighbors are heavy sleepers. Better yet, that they’re out of town.

Maybe he’s putting in extra effort because he knows now that your boyfriend isn’t doing this for you at home. Or maybe he’s just better at it than you remember. Regardless, you find yourself completely overcome with ecstasy, close to falling apart on Javi’s tongue in a matter of minutes.

As soon as he curls two fingers into your cunt, you’re gone, cumming so hard your vision pulls and your thighs shake.

You sing Javi’s name like a hymn. It rolls off your tongue effortlessly, naturally. Like it’s made for you to recite.

He lets you come down, soothes you with gentle hands stroking along your thighs, soft lips pressed to your sensitive mound. 

When your breathing evens, he lifts off of his haunches, motions for you to lay flat on the couch with your neck supported by the armrest. And then he shucks his pants off, his cock immediately springing up to his stomach, a trail of precum dripping down his navel.

You’d forgotten how gorgeous it was — the heady, pink tip shiny with arousal, veins running along the underside of the thick base prominent. It twitches in interest as Javier leans down to kiss you, prods against your slick inner thigh when his tongue presses into yours.

You hook your legs around his back, desperately attempting to pull him closer, attempting to drag him into your achingly empty cunt.

He grins against your lips, hand moving between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance.

“Impaciente,” he mumbles.

You whine, nails digging into his shoulders. “Please Javi, need it.”

“Yeah?” He pauses with his cockhead right at your seam. “How bad?”

“Fuck — so bad, need it so bad.” Your nails burrow deeper into flesh. He hisses.

“God damn, querida; that much, huh?”

“Yes, Javi,” you groan. “Please just-”

He bottoms out in one deep thrust, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. You moan in unison, his head falling against your shoulder as he slowly begins to move. 

Your cunt sucks him in greedily, clenching around him over and over again. It’s intoxicating, the feeling of his cock nudging your g-spot with every roll of his hips. You wonder how you went so long without this. Fear you won’t be able to again.

He pulls all the way out and snaps into you before setting a new, brutal pace, one that leaves you babbling underneath him. 

The room grows palpably warmer, white heat licking at your neck, your chest, your back — where it sticks to leather. You find yourself lost in the way your bodies move together; a dance you’ve done so many times before; one you’d perfected all those months ago. 

“Shit,” Javi slurs. “Take me so well, cariño. Like you’re — ahh — made for me.”

I am, you want to say. 

“Fuck,” you moan instead, “so good, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

And it does. You’re going to snap soon, going to cum for a second time, soak his cock.

You tighten around him, a silent warning. He slips out and you whine at the loss. But then he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, spreading you wider for him and delving back in at a new angle that makes you scream.

You can feel it building now, like a snowball in your abdomen. You can’t fight it, can barely warn Javi, his name spilling brokenly from your throat as your orgasm crests.

He talks you through it with praises whispered in your ear. So beautiful, princesa — that’s it. So pretty when you fall apart on my cock. There you go; let it all out, baby.

Fucked-out and boneless, you beg for Javi to please cum inside.

He growls, low and primal, gripping tightly to the flesh of your waist as his thrusts begin to falter. “That what you want, querida? Want to — shit — want to go back to your boyfriend with me dripping out of you?”

“Yes,” you chant thoughtlessly, yes, yes, yes. 

“Dirty. Fucking. Girl.” he grits, each word punctuated by a jerk of his hips. 

He spills inside you with his teeth in the crook of your neck. There’s so much of it, filling your cunt, leaking out around his cock and onto leather. It sates you in a way you didn’t know possible, as if your womb needs to be claimed by him and only him. Nobody else will do.

You almost resent the feeling of your eyesight returning and your breaths steadying. You don’t want to come down — not if it means you need to go home.

But the sky outside is turning purple, bruising with the threat of a new day on the horizon, and you know your time together is nearly up.

“Javi,” you mutter, his chest still heaving against yours, cock softening inside you.

“Up.”

He shifts, pulls out in a devastating loss, and retreats to the opposite side of the couch.

You begin to knead the muscles in your aching calves, Javi fumbling with the pack of cigarettes on the side table next to him. He takes one out and lights it, the end glowing faintly.

“What do we do?” you ask. He rubs at the crease in his forehead, definitely set there by years of chasing after drug cartels. Maybe also by running away from meaningful conversation with you.

“You can’t go back to him,” he mumbles.

You scoff. “I can’t? I have to Javi, Nathan is my-“

“Don’t say his name,” he snaps, abruptly ashing his cigarette and turning to face you. He looks wrecked, his eyes wide and his lips downturned. 

“What do you want from me, Javi?” you bite, pulling your panties back into place and reaching for your jeans where they lay on the floor. “You want me to be at your beck and call forever? Cheat on him until one of us dies?”

“I —“ Javi sighs. “No.”

“Then what?” You pull your pants on: one leg, then the other. Pull your shirt back down to cover your breasts. 

“I — want you.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva.

“What?”

“All of you,” he clarifies. “When I saw you with him for the first time in that grocery store — my heart sank. I didn’t — didn't realize how serious my feelings were for you. Fuck, I shouldn’t have let you end things that day.”

He stands. Braces pleading hands on your shoulders. 

“I know I’m an asshole,” he continues. “I thought I could never be someone’s partner. That I wouldn’t…wouldn’t be good. How could I be when I’ve done so much bad in my life?”

You sink into his touch. His words.

“Javi-“

“No, cariño — I need you to hear this. I want to be good for you, know I can be. I’ll do anything. I just — I can’t let you get away again.”

You feel as if you’ve just been struck by an arrow. Or, more accurately, a train. Your bones hurt and your insides twist.

You’re silent for a long moment, watching as his eyes desperately search yours. You know you need to say something eventually, put him out of his misery, but you’re too afraid to find out what happens next.

The undeniable fact that you want to be with him too is almost too much to bear. You’ll have to break it off with Nathan, split his heart in half. He doesn’t deserve it, you think, over and over.

But then, maybe you don’t deserve to remain unhappy. Unfulfilled.

Maybe you need to hurt him once in order to stop repeatedly hurting yourself.

“You’re good, Javier,” you say then. “You’re a good man. You deserve good.”

“Yeah?” his voice cracks. Tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He retracts them with a deep breath in.

You grab the sides of his face. “Yes. And I — I want you too.”

Javier kisses you, so deep you think your lips might bruise. There’s finality in it — you’re his and he’s yours — and no longer will you pretend that’s not the case.

He drives you back to your place, unwilling to let his girl get in another cab alone before daylight.

Laredo looks beautiful at dawn, all dozing buildings and empty roads. You pass by your workplace and groan at the realization that you’ll have to be back there in a few hours; you can’t call out again. A stack of unfiled reports will surely be waiting for you atop your desk.

That dread doesn’t last long, though, not when you look to the man in the driver’s seat, the one who makes your mouth water and your heart skip.

When he catches your gaze, corner of his mouth turning up at you mischievously, you know for certain that everything will work out just fine.

Javi turns onto your street slowly, moreso than he needs to, a possessive hand gripping your thigh.

“Will you let me know how it goes?” he asks when the car pulls up to the curb.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I mean, I think it’s safe to say it won’t go well, but-“

“I know. But if he gives you any more trouble than he needs to, you call me.”

Your eyes flit up to your bedroom window, blinds drawn up and curtains pulled aside. The room is still dark, Nathan no doubt still asleep.

You’ll go up in a second.  After you kiss Javier one more time.

He seems taken aback when your lips catch his, maybe because it’s crazy to do this here, now. But you can’t help it. Can’t keep your hands — or your mouth — off of him now that you have him.

He relaxes into it after just a second, licking into your mouth to deepen the kiss, his hand moving from your thigh to the back of your head to hold you against him.

And then — he abruptly pulls away.

“Shit,” he curses, staring wide-eyed at the window.

You follow his eyeline, freezing when you see what he sees: Nathan, tall and shadowy, looking straight at you.

“Well,” Javi laughs nervously, “I think he knows.”

end notes: ty so much for reading! pls consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment if you enjoyed :)

tag list: @janaispunk @kajashe @amanitacowboy @planet-marz1 @littlegrungegirlaf @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @wethairjoel @catchallfangirl @pamasaur

[star2fishmeg]

Luke and 123 please because I'm obsessed with the idea of luke hiding his girl from everyone

Thank you for requesting <3

SCENARIO #123 Sneaking around/away

📞 dialling…

Hasty footsteps stumbled through the hall, voices hushing each other and hands interlocked until away from the party. She pulled him into his bedroom, closing the door behind them and feeling her back hit the wood, Luke’s lips instantly attaching to her neck in hot, open-mouthed kisses with his hands holding her hips in a firm grasp, pushing himself as close as he could possibly get without crushing her into the door. Bursts of thrill fluttered in her chest, hands gliding up his pectorals, one tangling in his curls and the other cradled his jaw as he kissed along her column, doing his best to keep his teeth at bay no matter how urgently he wanted to suck her skin purple.

“Luke! That tickles.” She giggled quietly, the little fuzz of his beard (or the start of it) brushing gently over her skin, creating little tingles that spread over the nerves. He smiled into his kissed, continuing to trail them up to her jaw and back down to the base of her neck.

He pulled away with a low moan, pressing his lips to her cheek for a peck before smiling down at her, eyes gazing lovingly into hers and melting under her fingertips holding his jaw, “Ssshh, they’ll hear us, angel.”

“Can’t help it if you’re a good kisser, well, now you are.” She teased, kissing the corner of his mouth.

He rolled his eyes playfully, shaking his head but chuckling at the memory from when they’d met in freshman year of college, officially calling themselves as together just before that summer. Luke had kissed her on a whim with no knowledge or experience on how to actually kiss a girl. It was short and sloppy, but y/n still pursued his gesture and now whenever he kissed her, it was like summer evenings by the lake where the breeze danced through her hair and eliminated every worry that chewed away at her.

“Hm, woooow,” he said sarcastically, hands riding underneath her top and soothing over her waist and back, “I think I can keep you quiet.”

Pulling him closer, nose to nose, eyes shifting between his lips and his eyes, she murmured, “Oh, can you know? Rich coming from the guy who can’t stop whining when I-”

“-Okay, okay, big talk coming from someone so short.” Luke interrupted, cheeks flushing pink. He knew he wasn’t quiet in the bedroom but hearing her say it out loud was a new type of embarrassment, especially when he was strained in his jeans from kissing her neck alone, and perhaps the work of her hands in his hair. 

“You love it, though. C’mere, you yap too much.” Lips brushing, voices lowering into whispers with eyes fanning shut.

Y/n’s head titled left and his to the right, the space between them closing as lips pressed together in an all-consuming desire, mutually licking into each other as if they’d been on the same train of thought since the start, the rhythm in the way they kissed languid. She tugged the curls on his nape, pulling him impossibly closer, strings of saliva connecting their lips every time they pulled back for seconds of air before latching back onto each other, devouring with the occasional moan accidentally slipping through. 

“You love it, though.” He pulled away again, panting, careless of the spit coating his mouth. His rested his forehead against hers, drowning in the way she looked up at him with doe-eyes, “When do you think we should tell them?”

“Baby, stop worrying and kiss me.” She spoke in one, coy breath with a smirk, desperately pulling him down into another sloppy kiss, hiking her thigh up to his hip. 

His hand double tapped her thigh before gripping it, motioning for her to jump. She did, legs hooking and locking tight around his hips as her back pressed against the door harshly, Luke’s hands snaking back under her shirt as his tongue lapped against hers voraciously. Nothing about them was aesthetically sexy, drooling down chins, teeth grazing, hips grinding into each other deliberately slow with frenzied ecstasy washing over them and brewing a bubbling excitement in their stomachs. 

Back in the living room, Dylan leaned over to Ethan, flashing the time on his phone screen, a grin smearing across his cheeks. Ethan knew exactly what he was referencing, confirming their three-year-long conspiracy theory they’d been building together. Luke and y/n disappeared fifteen minutes ago. Who takes fifteen minutes to grab a refill from a bedroom?

[arcadia-smith]

TW: 18+ smut, dirty talk, fuck, nipple play, breeding kink (?), tasting, cleaning up.

Summary: It's just that- smut. He kisses you first, then fucks you.

Word count: 1 890

"The problem is," Simon said as he leaned in, "if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop.

Your heart raced at his words, a blush spreading across your cheeks. You met his intense gaze, eyes sparkling with both nervousness and excitement.

"Then don't stop," you whispered breathlessly, tilting your chin up in invitation. Your hand came to rest on his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. "I want you, Simon. All of you."

You rose up on your tiptoes, bringing your face mere inches from his. The air between you crackled with tension and barely restrained desire. "Show me," you breathed, lips parting slightly in anticipation. "Kiss me like you mean it."

His dark eyes smoldered with barely contained desire as he drank in the sight of your flushed face and parted lips. In one swift motion, he closed the remaining distance between you, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss.

One hand cupped the back of your neck while the other splayed across your lower back, pressing your soft curves against the hard planes of his body. He kissed you deeply, passionately, pouring all of his pent-up longing into the embrace. His tongue delved past your lips to tangle with yours, stoking the flames of your mutual arousal.

When you finally broke apart for air, Simon rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. "Fuck... You taste even better than I imagined.

You bit your lower lip "I've wanted this for so long," you confessed arching into him. The heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of your dress, igniting sparks of pleasure across your skin. "To feel your hands on me, your lips..."

"You have no idea how many nights I've lain awake thinking about this," he murmured huskily, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

He placed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, occasionally grazing his teeth over your racing pulse. "Dreaming of getting my hands on you, tasting your sweet skin..."

One hand slid down to grip your hip possessively while the other found the zipper of your dress. Slowly, teasingly, he began to tug it down, exposing more of your creamy flesh inch by tantalizing inch.

The cool air caressed your newly exposed skin, pebbling it with goosebumps.

"Simon," you whimpered needily, tilting your head to give him better access. Your own hands fisted in his shirt, desperate for an anchor amidst the overwhelming sensations. As more of your back was bared, the straps of your dress slipped off your shoulders, threatening to expose you further.

Panting softly, you pulled back just enough to meet Simon's heated gaze. With trembling fingers, your reached for the buttons of his shirt, aching to feel his bare skin against yours. "Please,"

In one swift motion, he grabbed the hem and yanked the garment over his head, tossing it aside carelessly. His sculpted torso was now fully exposed, a landscape of hard muscle and smooth skin.

Capturing your wrist, Simon pinned your hand above your head against the wall, caging you in with his larger frame. He leaned in close, his naked chest brushing against the front of your partially unzipped dress as he captured your lips in another devouring kiss. His tongue plunged deep, stroking along yours sensually.

Breaking the kiss, he trailed his lips down the elegant column of your throat, pausing to suckle at your pulse point.

The moment his lips latched onto your throbbing pulse, your head fell back with a thud against the wall, a guttural moan tearing from your chest. "Oh god, Simon!" hips bucking involuntarily against his. The ache between your thighs was becoming unbearable, your core clenching on nothing.

With your free hand, you scrabbled at the remaining zipper of your dress, desperate to shed the constricting garment.

Simon released your wrist only to grab the sides of the garment. With a swift, powerful tug, he ripped the flimsy material apart. The torn halves of dress fell open, revealing the lacy black bra and panties underneath.

"Fuck, look at you," he growled appreciatively, his dark eyes raking over your nearly nude form. Calloused hands skimmed up your sides, pushing the ruined dress off until it pooled at your feet. He cupped your breasts, thumbs flicking over the straining peaks of nipples through the sheer lace. "So perfect, so fucking sexy..." It took him seconds to free your breats from the lace.

Dipping his head, Simon captured one hardened bud between his teeth, biting down just shy of pain before soothing the sting with his tongue.

A sharp cry of ecstasy tore from your throat as Simon's hot mouth enveloped your nipple, the dual sensations of his teeth and tongue sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to the core. Your back arched sharply, pushing more of your breast into his eager mouth. Slender fingers tunneled into his short hair, holding him to you as you rocked your hips mindlessly against his thigh seeking friction.

"Yes, oh god yes! Don't stop, please don't stop!" You babbled incoherently, lost to the incredible feelings Simon was evoking in your body. The damp heat of arousal soaked through the thin lace of your panties, a telltale wet spot forming on the delicate fabric.

He laved attention on your breasts, alternating between firm sucks and gentle bites, determined to wring every ounce of pleasure. One hand slid down your quivering stomach to cup your mound through your drenched panties, rubbing slow circles over your clothed sex.

"So wet already," Simon purred darkly, feeling the evidence of your arousal coating his fingers. "All for me, isn't it baby? This pretty little pussy is mine."

Hooking his fingers in the waistband of your underwear, he ripped them away without preamble, baring your glistening folds to his hungry gaze. Two thick digits delved between slick petals, circling the swollen clit before plunging knuckle-deep inside your tight channel. "Fuck, you're so tight. Gonna feel amazing wrapped around my cock."

Your inner walls clenched greedily around Simon's invading fingers, trying to draw him deeper. Obscene squelching noises filled the air as he pumped them in and out of your sopping wet heat.

"Ahhh yesss! Oh god, Simon!" You wailed, hips undulating shamelessly against his hand. The coil of tension in your lower belly wound tighter and tighter, pushing you rapidly towards a shattering climax. "I'm gonna...gonna come! Don't stop, please make me come!"

Suddenly, your entire body went rigid as the dam burst. You came with a silent scream, release gushing out around Simon's pistoning fingers.

He continued pumping his fingers through your intense orgasm, prolonging your pleasure as much as possible. When the last aftershocks subsided, Simon withdrew his hand, bringing the glistening digits to his mouth. He made a show of licking them clean, savoring the essence.

"Delicious," he rumbled approvingly. "But I'm far from done with you yet."

In a flash, Simon had you spun around and bent over the nearby table. He kicked your legs apart and notched himself against your dripping entrance, the thick head of his cock nudging insistently at your opening.

"Brace yourself, baby. I'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he warned before surging forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

Your velvety walls stretched obscenely around his thick girth, struggling to accommodate his impressive size. Tears of overwhelming sensation pricked the corners of your eyes.

"S-Simon! Oh fuck, you're so big!" You keened, nails scrabbling for purchase on the polished wood of the table.

Instinctively, you pushed your hips back, taking him even deeper. The new angle allowed him to hit that special spot inside you with every thrust.

You looked back over your shoulder at Simon, "Yes, ruin me! Make me yours, fill me up! I want to feel this for days!"

Gripping your hips bruisingly tight, Simon set a punishing pace, slamming into your welcoming heat with animalistic fervor. The obscene slap of skin on skin echoed through the room, punctuated by your mingled cries of ecstasy. He could feel every flutter and clench of your silken walls around him, urging him deeper.

"That's it, take it all like a good little slut," he snarled, angling his hips to grind against your cervix with each thrust. "This greedy cunt was made for my cock. Gonna pump you full of my seed, mark you inside and out."

Reaching around, Simon found your clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in time with his increasingly erratic thrusts. He could feel his own peak fast approaching, balls drawing up tight.

The dual stimulation of Simon's relentless thrusts and clever fingers quickly drove you to the brink again.

The filthy words spilling from Simon's lips only stoked the flames higher, making you feel deliciously dirty and desired.

"Yes, yes, YES! Fill me up, breed me!" You babbled mindlessly, too far gone to care how wanton you sounded. Your cunt rippled and squeezed around Simon's pistoning cock, trying to milk him dry. "Come for me Simon, paint my insides white! I wanna feel your hot cum flooding my womb!"

With a final twist of his fingers on your clit, you flew apart completely.

The rhythmic clenching of your velvet walls proved too much for Simon to resist. With a guttural roar, he buried himself to the root inside your spasming heat, his cock jerking as he began to come. Thick ropes of scalding seed painted your inner walls, filling to the brim and then some. It seemed like he would never stop coming, marking you as his deep within your fertile womb.

"Fuuuuck, take it all! Milk my cock dry!" Simon groaned, grinding against your ass to work his release in as deep as possible.

Finally spent, he collapsed against your back, Simon nipped at you ear and whispered, "That's it baby, you're mine. And you're stuck with me now, baby. No escape,"

Slowly, carefully, Simon eased out of your tender passage, groaning at the sight of his release starting to leak out of your well-used hole. He scooped some up with his fingers and brought it to your mouth.

"Clean up the mess we made together," he commanded softly, rubbing the pearly fluid over your lips.

You obediently parted your lips, allowing Simon to feed you his essence. You swirled the musky flavor around the tongue before swallowing. A soft moan left your lips at the taste of your combined releases.

"Let's get you cleaned up and tucked into bed. You've had quite an eventful night."

"Mmmm, carry me?" You requested drowsily, nuzzling under his chin. "I don't think these noodle legs can hold me up anymore. You absolutely wrecked me in the best possible way..."

A rare, genuine smile tugged at the corner of Simon's mouth, he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling against his broad chest as he carried you towards the bedroom "Careful what you wish for, sweetheart. Keep talking like that and we might not make it to the bed," he teased lightly, giving your bottom a playful squeeze.

Once in the bedroom, Simon gently laid you down on the plush mattress. He disappeared briefly before returning with a warm, damp cloth, carefully cleaning away the evidence of your passionate coupling from between your thighs with surprising tenderness.

"There we go, all nice and clean," he murmured, tossing the cloth aside and joining you under the covers.

[littlefreya]

Neptune's Snare

Summary: She came to take revenge on the loathsome man who murdered her fiance, only to become his captive.

Read Chapter One

Pairing: AU!Pirate August Walker x Virgin OFC (for now 😏)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Sexual themes, dark themes mentioned, historical inaccuracies, kidnapping, captivity, graphic descriptions of sex, intimidation, slow burn, sexual tension, foul language.

A/N: I was unsure whether I should do part 2, but @deandoesthingstome (💖) motivated me to do it, so I truely hope you will like it. Many thanks to @agniavateira, for beta'ing. I am no longer using my old tag list, but I will tag those who specifically asked to be tagged for this story via my new Writing Update Blog @littlefreyaslibrary.

Thanks for reading, and please reblog with a comment 🖤

Chapter Two

Hours had passed since the Captain left—hours of futile attempts to escape the cruelty of the heavy iron binds. By now, the ship was deep into the ocean, miles away from any harbour or piece of land. The notion that she’d been abducted by the most ruthless murderer known to authorities had only just begun to sink. 

As hot tears stung at her cheeks, Lizette couldn’t help but chuckle at the stupidity that led her to this fate.

‘Did you really think that a foolish girl could succeed where great men had failed?’ 

If Lizette had dared be honest, she would admit she never thought that plan through, not that it mattered much anymore. Soon enough, she would be yet another shiny trinket in Blackbeard’s gaudy collection.

Exhausted from a fierce yet futile battle, she leaned her head back against the plush, gold-paneled wall. Her weary gaze drifted through the open window, where the dark skies and black seas merged into a desolate void. No light shone through tonight; the darkness has devoured the stars and the moon. Lizette felt as if she was drowning in it too, sinking into a thick, tar-like liquid. With each breath, the collar around her throat grew heavier, the iron pressing into her skin and dragging her deeper and deeper until everything faded to black.

When she blinked again, it was still night but the cabin was lit in deep shades of honey and amber. Her heart skipped—once for the iron still hanging from her neck and twice as her bleary eyes caught sight of a shadow by the edge of the big table.  

It appeared that her host had returned. 

Boots flung across the food-abundant table, the Captain sat back in his royal velvet chair. One hand cradled a silver chalice whilst the other toyed with the edge of his thick whiskers. Silver trays of food, wine, and books were splayed before him, surrounded by dozens of fat, wax-dripping candles. The flickering flame guttered upon his eyes, painting them bright red while he observed the girl intently. 

The curiosity was mutual, at least to some extent. As loathsome as the pirate was, Lizette could not help but scrutinise. Never in her life did she see a man so crude and yet so regal at the same time, He looked like a washed-out king, holding himself to a higher status amongst the scum aboard his ship. Surrounding himself with fine art, books and scientific obscurities, one would assume that this low-life man was educated, or at least aspired to be. His appearance, too, was of some sort of false elegance,  with his moustache carefully groomed and his hair neatly combed save for an errant curl that fell upon his tanned forehead. However, the white cotton shirt that hung partially unbuttoned and loose from his shoulders exposed him for what he truly was as it revealed a myriad of tattoos, scars, and coarse hair. 

‘Nothing but a filthy scoundrel.’

“At last, sleeping beauty is awake.” 

Lizette kept her tongue knotted. The blazes on her stare answered on her behalf. 

August scoffed at the silent response. ‘Precious little thing,’ Had only she known how much he enjoyed obstinate women. The only thing that was better than bending a spitfire to his will was getting a nun to kneel before his cock.

A slight twitch tugged at his cheek; his smirk widening at the fond memory.  

‘Ah, Mary… you sure pray hard.’

Letting go of his whiskers and the chalice in his grasp, the Captain reached for a loaf of bread and split it in half. Steam rose and coiled to the air.  The scrumptious scent of the freshly baked goods quickly filled the room and wafted over Lizette in a tempting invitation. Absentminded, she suckled her bottom lip, almost able to taste the sweetness on her tongue. 

The pirate held out one piece of the loaf, an unmistakably provoking grin lighting his face. “Would you dine with me, pet?”

Weakness unfurled through her, reminding Lizette that it must have been hours, if not an entire day, since she last ate. Her empty belly flipped and gurgled so loudly that the pirate could hear it even from where he sat. Joy immediately cascaded about his glance; the impish grin between his cheeks further stretched. 

To his delightful surprise, the girl was a lot more stubborn than she appeared. Instead of begging, she offered a spiteful glare and turned her face away. 

“I’d rather starve!” 

“Suit yourself.” The Captain shrugged and bit on one of the pieces. Hums and moans sputtered from his mouth, all exaggerated to taunt his brazen prisoner. As he finished chewing, he sucked on each of his inked fingers. 

“Got a name, pet?”

“What matter is that to you?” The girl spat.

August shrugged again and returned to the chalice, dragging it on the table's surface in circular motions. A deep-red whirlpool briefly formed in his drink. He stared at it indifferently as he retorted, “Matters not, pet. But since you’ll be spending some time here in my quarters, I will require a moniker to approach you by. Question is, would you rather I choose a name for you myself? It won’t be a nice one. I can promise you that.” 

Keeping her eyes averted, the girl folded her knees and hugged them, a deep sigh sinking from her. She couldn’t even bring herself to imagine the horrendous name he would choose.

“My name is Lizette.” 

A touch of dark delight kissed his face—as if he had heard the enchanting hymn of a siren. Thoughtful, he stopped stirring his drink to the sound of her name, licked his lips, lifted the chalice and pressed it to his lips. “Ah, yes, you are definitely a Lizzy.” 

“It’s Lizette!” she vehemently corrected.  

“Oh!” The pirate abruptly twirled his free hand in the air, his brows lifting in a sardonically submissive gesture. “Forgiveness! Mercy, milady!” That had earned him the attention he was hoping to receive, as finally, Lizette snapped to glare at him. 

The pure ire on her face did nothing but feed his amusement. 

With a slanted grin and his thumb brushing his whiskers, he eyed her back. It’s been a while since a girl piqued his fascination, and this one was indeed something else. Fear seeped from her like dewy nectar from a ripe fruit. The sheen of sweat clinging to her skin and the throbbing at the crook of her neck gave away her true emotions. Yet, she exuded the unyielding fury of a harpy, the shackles around her throat barely deterring her brazen spirit.. 

‘Bold little thing. As ferocious as the ship’s cat…’ August thought and then frowned, ‘Where is that ungodly creature, anyway? Haven’t seen it in a while.’ 

“Lady Lizette…” the correct moniker rolled smoothly on his tongue in an inherently sinister sweetness. “Are you always such a rude guest to your hosts?”

“Guest?!” Lizette seized the chain that held her collar to the wall and lifted it in front of him—a deep frown decorating her weary face.  

“I am not a guest! I am a prisoner!”

“Ah! Ah!” The pirate lifted his inked index finger in an unbearably pretentious manner. "It was you who came aboard my ship willingly, and let us not forget—uninvited.” 

Lizette felt a chill in her chest, the same chill she always sensed when getting an answer wrong in her Latin lessons. He was right, and there was more to it. Pirate or not, doesn't every man deserve respect in his own home? 

That notion made her cheeks hot. 

“And if I may…“ the pirate drawled huskily and shifted into his seat. Lizette’s eyes followed his movement with the wariness of a skittish cat. Initially bemused, she realised his hand had snaked below the table and was now fumbling with his waistband. 

A deep, pulsating pang bloomed in her core as the primordial anxiety every maiden is doomed to suffer from awoke within her. Alarmed, she shook her head and blurted hoarsely, “Wait!” 

The pirate paid her no mind; either he didn’t hear or didn’t care. Then, his hand sprang back sharply with a pistol in his grip—the same one he had confiscated from her merely a few hours before. 

“Did you not attempt to murder me in my own home?” 

With those words, he slammed the pistol on the table, the dull thud booming through the cabin wall and causing Lizette to jump with a start.

Sinking back to his red regal chair, August crossed his fingers together and pressed his lips together with the contempt of an authority figure. The many golden trinkets around his fingers chimed as they collided. 

“Answer me, Pet.” 

Lizette regarded the pistol carefully. The golden floral embellishments upon the handle sparked with the candle's light.  For a fleeting moment, she wondered how fast she needed to be to grab the pistol and shoot him dead in his rotten heart. Instead, she simply nodded, much as she could with the heavy collar around her neck. The spots where the sharp edges grazed her flesh burnt as sweat dripped over the bruised skin.

“Dumb as your plan was, I do appreciate the gesture, las. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to murder me, but it’s definitely the first time it was a beautiful young lady. Was all of this because of a boy?” He challenged, crooking one eyebrow. 

This time, Lizette did not hesitate to answer. 

“You robbed me of my future!” She corrected, and though she tried to maintain a fierce demeanour, the quiver in her voice gave away the rageful grief. 

Sympathy, sadly, was not in August’s books, especially not whilst being distracted by the way her breasts pressed against the confines of the corset with every fervorous breath. A small, almost inaudible groan left his lips. He wondered if she, indeed, was a virgin. Did he deny her of her wedding night? Were these lovely tits ever in the hands of a man before? 

Surely, he would find out. One way or another. 

With a glare still fixed on her cleavage, he grazed his dimpled chin and simply shrugged. 

“Pirate.” 

Lizette hissed in response. Defiant, she snapped her arms across her chest to hide her cleavage. 

‘Pig.’

“So I robbed you of your future,” August continued, mimicking quotation marks with his long, inked fingers. “And thus, you thought you should rob me of mine?” 

“And what future would that be? Murdering and whoring?” she muttered hatefully.  

The pirate swatted a hand over his chest, giving her a fake, exaggerated pout. “Now that pains me, love.” 

Lizette could sense the blood seeth beneath her skin. She was used to men belittling her, but never did she experience such sheer mockery and humiliation. Trembling, she yelled back, “Good! I wish you nothing but pain!”

“And so she continues to insult me in my own home.” August clicked his tongue and shook his head with sardonic disappointment. “You highborn ladies sure lack respect. ‘Funny thing is, no matter how uppity women like you act, they all want the same thing…” his voice slurred and deepened, coaxing a baffled look from the maiden who abruptly forgot her wrath and ate the bait. 

“And what would that be?” 

The pirate stood and calmly paced to the fore of the table, where he leaned against the edge to peer down at his prisoner. Lizette remained guarded. he was fairly far away yet close enough for his shadow to fall upon her face and for his manhood to be situated at the level of her mouth. She struggled to avoid staring at it directly, which only made that wretched smug smile light his face again.

“What you ladies truly want is to be violated by none other but us ‘lowlife scoundrels’,” August nibbled his bottom lip, a dry chuckle escaping him as more fond memories came to mind. “Truly, the lots of you are bored by the castrated virility of the poised gentlemen. All you fantasise about is to be fucked dirty like a whore by a brute who has no sense of propriety.” 

The pirate held his fist before him and mimicked a slow pumping motion. Although Lizette did not quite understand it, his words alone were enough to leave her gravely unsettled. 

“You are an animal,” she snarled, not realising that her nails were biting into her forearms as she clutched herself so protectively. 

But that merely fueled him.    

“Tell me, Pet, did your boy satisfy those dark desires before he left a delicious bonny lass like yourself all alone? Did he split open and plundered your sweet little cunt, ass, and mouth, or did he leave you wet and miserable?”

Heat crawled at Lizette’s cheeks, yet she wasn’t sure whether it was from outrage or shame. Never in her life had she even considered the possibilities he had suggested, and now those horrifying images poisoned her mind.  

Amused by her obvious mortification, the pirate tilted his head impishly. “No? Not even a finger or a tongue?”

“Stop it!” She implored, her voice cracking.

Ignoring her plea, he clicked his tongue. “Aw, sweet, tender flower. That’s the problem, isn’t it? He left you all alone and uncharted—that lonesome seal, begging to be invaded. Well, milady, you didn’t have to threaten me with a pistol in that case. All you had to do was ask.” 

The pirate reached for his bulge and squeezed it, much to Lizette’s dismay.

”Trust me, one night with me, and you’d forget you ever loved him.”

That was enough to send Lizette over the edge. Not thinking twice, she jerked to her feet, the chains around her rattling along a furious onslaught that sputtered from her mouth. 

“Love?! What do you know about love? You are a monster! All you do is kill and rape! You are incapable of love, and I’d be damned if anyone could ever love you!” 

All the candles in the cabin flickered with a sudden gust of wind as the pirate suddenly lunged forward. He moved so fast, too fast. Lizette hadn’t even had the chance to sway from his touch, and already he was upon her. Crude fingers dug deep into the hollows of her cheek, forcing her to face his terrorising stare. 

“You think this is a game? You think you know anything about me, little girl? About what I’ve done!?” 

It was not a question to be answered, and even so, Lizette couldn’t bring herself to speak; she was suffocating, drowning on the surface. All around her, the air stood dense with the scent of iron, wine, and musky sweat, whilst the weight of his body crushed as it clung to her. 

Closer, deeper. Layers upon layers of silk and wool separated their skin from one another, and still, she sensed the curve and firmness of his robust figure. The woven map of muscles that adorned his torso and the flex each muscle made as he tensed were evident 

But none of this came close to what she saw as he forced her to look into his eyesa wrathful maelstrom pregnant with sinister urges beyond her darkest fears. It felt as if it was trying to draw her into a deep sense of anger, and grief submerged her.

Dread began to spill into her veins. He was going to kill her.

Lizette sucked in a deep shuddering breath. She was not going to join her Edward. Not tonight.

“Let go of me!” She squealed and began to punch his shoulders repeatedly. It felt like hitting iron, every blow more painful than the other, yet she refused to stop. 

Indeed, she was just like that sea monster of a cat.

Stoic as an icy sea breeze, the pirate tilted his head at the girl. Despite her desperate efforts, her battle did nothing but vex him. Quirking one eyebrow, he released his grip from her jaw and swiftly reached for her hands. Lizette did her best to evade, squirming erratically, but to no avail. With a swift single hand, he seized her wrists and pinned them above her head with a booming thud.

The girl gasped out with surrender, strands of her hair blowing back and forth upon her face as she heaved and panted exhaustingly. With his hand around her wrists and his body slightly bent to meet her height, he stood  closer to her than any other man had before. So close that she could taste the wine and sea salt on his breath and study every freckle and every scar that marked his skin. He was nothing like her Edward, she thought; he was coarse and terrifying, and despite it all, she found him tragically beautiful. 

She hated him for that. 

“Listen to me now and listen carefully,” he finally spoke, tightening his grip around her wrists.

Liaette lifted her chin disdainfully; it took every ounce of self-restraint not to spit at his murderous, smug face. 

“You’ve mistook my hospitality and playfulness for kindness, but let’s get this straight; I am not a good man. Upset me, and I will pluck that little flower between your thighs without blinking and then throw you to my crew once I have my fill.” 

His words brought a stark shiver down her spine, yet it wasn’t just fear this time but something far more primordial. Between her trembling thighs, she sensed dewy wetness. A desperate gnawing need she had never known before. Trying to ease and brush it off, she squirmed and ground her thighs. 

August’s brow rose with realisation, an immediate knowing grin spilling upon his malicious face. He leaned closer, his lips and whiskers brushing against her ear as he spoke. 

“Seems like there won’t be much resistance from you, isn’t that so, pet? Soon, you’ll beg me to fuck y…”

His words were cut as warm saliva splattered on his cheek. 

He shut his eyes momentarily, releasing a deep, exasperated grunt and then moved an inch away to fish a silk handkerchief from his pocket. Lizette watched proudly as he wiped his face. 

The pirate, however, was not amused. Throwing away the handkerchief, he offered her a deadly frown. And then he leaned in, his mouth drawing voraciously closer to hers as if meaning to devour her.

“I warned you…”

“Captain.”

A low, sonorous call followed from the door, drawing both August and Lizette to turn their heads toward the uninvited guest. 

Lizette blinked twice. The man in question was almost the spitting image of August, though his hair was wild with earthy curls and his beard fully grown, pointy, and tended with wax. Indifferent to the scene before him, he drew a pipe from his pockets and lit it with the flame of a candle that stood on a shelf near the door.  

August regarded him with slight respect, yet not without annoyance:." What is it? I am busy.”

“I can see that,” the other pirate puffed out, grey lines of smoke following through his nostrils, “you are needed at the brig.”

“About?”

“Flint might finally speak.”

Eyes ablaze with sudden intrigue, August straightened to his fall height and drew a step back from the girl yet kept his grip around her wrists. 

“I assume your methods worked, brother?” He crooked one eyebrow at the other pirate curiously. 

‘Brother, of course,’ Lizette nearly chuckled. The men must have been twins, although she could tell the other sibling had far more grey in his untamed mane. 

“My methods always work.” He answered with dry arrogance. “Finish her off later. This is more important.”

August lingered, his fingers brushing over his moustache as he contemplated what to do with his sweet little prisoner. The possibilities were endless, yet the more interesting ones would take some time, and with the trouble she gave him, he definitely wanted to give her what she deserved. 

A deep, exasperated sigh left his lips. “A moment, Gus,” he requested, finally unhanding the girl. 

The man, now known as Gus, bowed his head and threw Lizette a quick glance before disappearing into the darkness behind the door.

“It seems like I have some business to attend to, love. Shall we continue our little fun later?” August teased, slight annoyance still lingering at the tone of his voice.

Lizette did not answer. Rubbing her aching wrists, she watched him cautiously while he searched within his pockets.  She wondered what new cruel method of torment he would inflict to her now. 

To her surprise, it was a small silver key.

He lifted it to her face and offered her a razor-sharp  stare." The water is close to freezing; sharks and eels are swimming within them, and every man upon my deck is probably plotting to use you as fuckhole since the moment you stepped onboard. I trust you won’t try anything stupid in my absence.”

“Like what?” Despite her physical and mental exhaustion, she dared to speak back, “Seduce one of your crew members to fornicate with me so he would betray and murder you?” 

Her weariness must have brought out the worst in her because she would have never thought of such an inappropriate, vile thing. Then she realised it was  him who, in less than a few hours, corrupted her soul. 

August paused and contemplated for a moment as if this was an actual possibility he did not consider. However, he brushed it off with a burst of taunting laughter while proceeding to unlock the collar around her neck. “I wouldn’t  recommend it, love. They all come with so many exotic afflictions on their cock s that no doctor has even heard of.” 

As the iron was removed from her little neck, the girl rested her hands around it, massaging the cuts and bruises that formed beneath. It ached even worse as the chill air of the night pecked at the raw flesh. 

The pirate waltzed toward the table, reclaiming the pistol in an obviously provoking manner. He sheathed it back at the front of his waistband and paced toward the door. 

“I won’t be long, love,” he promised, and with that, he left and locked the door behind him.

Lizette listened carefully to the sound of his footsteps, counting them one by one until she could no longer hear him. And then, she began to search around the cabin for anything, anything that can be used as a weapon. 

‘I will not be a pirate’s whore.’  She vowed to herself while absentmindedly grazing a palm over her cheeks where August had touched her. 

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello again everyone! It's time for another Merlin au! This time featuring Uther's propaganda and a healthy dose of misunderstandings and pain! :D

This au was inspired by an idea that I pitched in a reblog of one of @tamaha's amazing posts! (Also, shoutout to my awesome mutual @achillesuwu, since you asked to be tagged when I wrote this! :) ) You can find that original reblog here!

EDIT: You can find part two of this au here!

In canon, we know that Uther had children drowned for using magic, and that most of those children were likely warlocks who were born with their magic. However, we also know that most people in Camelot believe that magic is a choice and that it's impossible for someone to be born with it, so how did Uther justify to his people both the existence of child warlocks and the killing of children for something that they had no control over?

Well, Uther utilized his propaganda to justify killing young warlocks. He found some ancient text that hypothesized that warlocks got their powers from being reborn demons, and he used those very shoddy sources to justify his actions.

He spun stories about how warlocks looked human, but weren't human at all. He told the people that while those warlock children might have looked like regular humans, they would grow into powerful demons that would hunt down regular humans and eat their souls to gain more power.

Uther's propaganda campaign was successful, and soon, warlocks were some of the most feared magical creatures in Camelot. The people were terrified at the thought of a beast that could consume souls and blend in among them, unable to detected until it was too late.

Warlocks were a regular element of the nightmares of all of the children in Camelot, who would jump at every shadow and wonder if it was a warlock, there to devour them. Arthur was among those children, lying awake late at night, trembling with fear at the thought of any person he passed on the street being a warlock who would eat his very soul, denying him any afterlife and instead turning his soul into more magical power for the warlock.

And fast forward to some point after Arthur's become king, Merlin has a pretty painless magic reveal. Arthur and the knights were out hunting, they all get ambushed by bandits, Arthur takes a bad hit that would probably be fatal, but Merlin rushes to his side and, without hesitation, uses magic to heal Arthur's wound.

Arthur was, of course, very upset to learn that his manservant and best friend has magic, and they have a big argument over it, but no one physically attacks anyone (despite Gwaine's threats to kill Arthur and the rest of the knights and run away with Merlin).

So, everyone endures a rather tense and awkward ride back to Camelot, where Merlin is the recipient of many irate glares from Arthur and reassuring looks from the knights. When they reach Camelot, Arthur bans Merlin from his presence until he calls for Merlin again. He says that he can't stand the sight of Merlin at the moment, but Merlin will owe him a full explanation later. Merlin tearfully agrees and holes himself up in Gaius's chambers for a few days, while Arthur makes an ass of himself with his foul mood, snapping at everyone in the castle.

The knights try to point out to Arthur that while, yes, Merlin had magic and had lied to Arthur, he had only revealed it to save Arthur's life. Most of the knights used that point as a tool to comfort Arthur and ease his temper, but Gwaine used that fact to rub it in Arthur's face how terrible of a person Arthur was being towards the man who had just saved his life.

Finally, after the whole castle had to suffer through five days of Arthur's prattish and unpleasant behavior, Arthur summoned Merlin to his chambers, feeling calm enough again to actually hear whatever nonsensical reasons Merlin would give for turning to magic.

You see, what Arthur, the knights, and pretty much everyone in the castle had assumed was that Merlin had probably just picked up on some small useful enchantments and healing spells for Gaius's old study of that material. Arthur was angry at Merlin for turning to magic, but he could understand where Merlin was coming from.

Everyone knew that Merlin cared about his friends to the point of idiocy, so it made logical sense that Merlin, since he had the resources available to him, would resort to learning healing magic in case of an emergency. Arthur understood that aspect of Merlin more than anyone else.

Knowing that Merlin's magic was probably just the result of him being a loving and caring idiot did help ease the blow for Arthur, and truthfully Arthur didn't plan on punishing Merlin at all. To Arthur, hopefully confining Merlin to his chambers for a few days would discourage any future stupidity along these lines, and they could put this entire situation behind them.

So, when Arthur summoned a distressingly pale Merlin to his chambers and demanded an explanation, he expected to receive some stuttered response about learning a few spells from some of Gaius's spare books and to extract a promise out of Merlin that he'd never turn to magic again, and then everything would be fine.

However, when a wrought looking Merlin opened his mouth to explain, Arthur's heart plummeted to the floor. At the very first words of Merlin's explanation, "I was born with it," Arthur's chest went cold, and he took a few staggering steps backwards until his back hit the cold wall behind him, his eyes seeking out his blade.

Merlin was born with magic. That made Merlin a... a...

"Warlock," Arthur whispered, his eyes teary and terrified all at once.

Merlin stopped his explanation and tilted his head at Arthur, a small grin pulling on his lips. Arthur flinched back slightly at the sight of it, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the all-encompassing terror, dread, and sorrow that swirled around his mind.

"Ah, so you do know the correct word for it then! Yes, I am technically a warlock, but the distinction doesn't really matter that much anyways."

Merlin made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if his words hadn't just completely shattered Arthur's heart. Arthur couldn't even listen to the rest of Merlin's explanation through the rush of his heartbeat and breathing in his ears.

The terror gripping his heart shouted at him to fight or flee, don't just stand there waiting for him to decide that he's feeling peckish for souls!

Arthur suddenly registered the pallor of Merlin's skin and the hollowness of his cheeks and came to the awful conclusion that he doesn't have much time, Merlin's already hungry and Merlin was stepping closer there was no time to escape nonono!

Arthur closed his eyes, unable to look at what must have been Merlin unfurling whatever demonic jaws he kept hidden and preparing to eat Arthur's soul...

But the sensation of his soul being devoured, whatever that was supposed to feel like, never came. Instead, he just felt a hand on his forehead, and after a few seconds another one cupped the side of his face.

Arthur hesitantly opened his eyes, almost not wanting to look upon Merlin's happy, friendly face that had always brought nothing but comfort. He didn't want those caring eyes to be that last thing he saw before he died at Merlin's hand!

Slowly, Arthur steeled himself and blinked the tears from his eyes, willing to at least face his death like a true warrior, looking at it head-on.

But, as his vision cleared from the tears, Merlin didn't look like his death, or like any sort of soul-eating monster. He just looked like Merlin, and by god wasn't that the worst part of it?

Merlin slowly smiled at him as his tears dried, coaxing him away from the wall and towards his armchair by the fireplace. Merlin gently guided him over to chair and helped him into his seat, holding Arthur's hand the entire time.

Arthur, once he was sitting, looked over at Merlin, still holding onto his hand and whispering comforting words to him, and Arthur felt like a small, scared child again, freshly awoken from a nightmare and jumping at every shadow.

It took what must have been hours for Arthur to catch his breath, stop his tears, and cease his body's terrified trembling, and Merlin sat next to him the entire time, drying Arthur's tears and comforting him.

Eventually, Arthur looked Merlin in the eyes again, and he could find nothing in them but love and care.

Whatever Merlin was, however hungry he must have been after going five days without being able to hunt for souls to devour, he apparently didn't see Arthur as a target.

Arthur took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact with Merlin. Alright, Merlin might be a soul-eating demon straight out of Camelot's worst nightmares, but he saw Arthur as a friend, not a meal. Arthur... Arthur could work with that.

He just... he needed more information before doing anything else. Merlin was still looking at him with love and concern, and with each passing moment, Arthur became more and more convinced that Merlin was still Merlin, warlock or not. And damn it all, that still counted for something. It had to count for something.

Now that his fear was marginally under control, questions swirled around Arthur's head. How did Merlin even eat souls before this? How often did he need to eat? Did he need to also eat food, or did he sustain himself and his powers on souls alone?

Before he could ask Merlin any of the pressing questions that were on his mind, Merlin had already helped Arthur out of his chair and towards his bed, readying a limp Arthur for bed whilst the king was drowning in his own thoughts.

Before Arthur even knew it, Merlin was pulling blankets over him and snuffing out the candles in his room. Merlin promised to visit Arthur again in the morning to tell him more, and Arthur barely registered his words over the storm of his own thoughts.

When morning came, Arthur couldn't even tell if he had gotten any sleep throughout the night or not, but he woke up exhausted either way. Only a few minutes after the sun had risen, Merlin burst into the room, still looking paler than usual and helping himself to one of the sausages that was supposed to be a part of Arthur's breakfast.

Just the sight of Merlin eating anything made Arthur feel slightly queasy, imaging some terrified soul being devoured at Merlin's hands. Arthur took a deep, steadying breath before getting out of bed, allowing Merlin to dress him as he normally did.

Merlin, much to Arthur's relief, was still acting like nothing had changed, like he was still the same harmless Merlin that Arthur knew him as before yesterday.

If that was how Merlin wanted to act, then Arthur was fine with it. Truthfully, even with all of the questions that Arthur had surrounding Merlin's nature, he found that he didn't really want answers to any of them. Answers would make this new reality, one where Merlin was never harmless at all and where there was a demon hiding under his best friend's skin, real for Arthur. If Arthur didn't have any answers, then he could just... pretend that everything was still fine, like nothing was wrong.

To keep Merlin by his side, he would gladly accept ignorance and pretend like nothing had changed.

However, there was still one issue that Arthur needed an answer to, to confirm that Merlin was still the man who Arthur always thought him to be.

As Merlin was cleaning up Arthur's breakfast plate, Arthur cleared his throat, getting Merlin's attention. Merlin quickly turned around to meet Arthur's gaze, but Arthur didn't feel scared meeting his eyes this time.

"Merlin, I'm willing to let everything that was revealed yesterday be forgiven, and everything can go back to normal."

Merlin gave Arthur a beaming smile at his words, and Arthur continued with a solemn heart.

"However, there is one thing I need to know. You've never..."

Somehow, the words eaten the soul of an innocent person were so vile that they refused to pass Arthur's lips, so he chooses an alternative.

"... hurt anyone who didn't deserve it, right? And you never will in the future? If we are to have any sort of trust between us, you must answer me honestly"

Arthur figured that, if Merlin was indeed forced to eat souls to survive, Merlin was probably feeding on bandits or enemy soldiers that Arthur and the knights would've killed anyways. It was the only explanation, as innocent people didn't mysteriously turn up dead regularly enough in Camelot to indicate that Merlin was feeding on them, and Arthur knew, deep down, that no matter what he was, Merlin would never do such a thing.

Merlin froze at Arthur's words, his smile falling. He lowered his gaze briefly, before meeting Arthur's eyes once more, determination shining brightly in his eyes.

"Arthur, I swear to you, anyone whom I've hurt with my powers were enemies of Camelot. Whatever I've done, I did it to protect you and your subjects."

Arthur nodded, satisfied and relieved by Merlin's answer. Nothing had to change then, Merlin was still his friend and manservant, albeit with powerful magic and an appetite for the souls of his enemies. Arthur could... tolerate that.

As the weeks went on, Arthur found himself thinking about this new side to Merlin less and less. Merlin was still acting exactly as himself, so there was no reason for Arthur to worry, let alone dwell on any thoughts of warlocks.

(And if he had a familiar nightmare from his childhood featuring a warlock, then that was Arthur's business and Arthur's business alone.)

Everything was fine, and months passed without any incidents. That was, however, until Arthur noticed Merlin becoming paler, his cheeks hollowing out again, and his eyes sporting heavy bags. As he took in the changes in Merlin over the past few days, he came to the sickening conclusion: Merlin was getting hungry again, and would need a soul to eat soon.

But Camelot was at peace, there were noticeably less bandits roaming the streets in the past year, and no assassins had come to the castle in the past months. Arthur could see that Merlin's usual... hunting grounds... had been drying up, and he needed to find a solution immediately. Arthur shivered at the thought of what devastation Merlin would unintentionally bring down upon all of them if his hunger ever got out of control.

After several hours of brainstorming on Arthur's part, he finally had an idea. It sickened him to have to consider, but he would do what he had to for the sake of Camelot.

Arthur called for Merlin to follow him as he made his way into the dungeons, where only one prisoner was currently being held. The prisoner was a minor noble who had killed several of his own servants and then used his status as a member of the nobility to cover up his involvement in the murders.

However, the nobleman was sloppy, and there was evidence left behind that proved his guilt without a doubt. He was set to be hanged for his crimes in two days time, as per Arthur's own judgement at the noble's trial, but... if he was going to be executed anyways... perhaps his death may be of use.

(What Arthur didn't know was that the real reason why Merlin looked so exhausted was because Merlin had spent every night for the past week searching for and compiling evidence that the nobleman was behind the murders, as the bastard would've gotten away with it otherwise.)

To Arthur, the criminal's death could be used to ensure that Camelot's only source of magical protection (and Arthur's best and dearest friend) didn't starve to death or go into a hunger-induced rampage, whichever came first.

Slowly, Arthur made his way to the nobleman's cell with Merlin trailing after him, where the criminal was bound to a chair on Arthur's orders. Arthur solemnly opened the door to the cell, gesturing for Merlin to follow him inside.

As soon as Arthur set foot in the cell, the nobleman started begging him for mercy, pleading with him to lower his sentence, not knowing what punishment Arthur truly had in mind for him. Ignoring the soon-to-be dead man, Arthur turned towards Merlin, who was startled by Arthur's intense stare.

"Arthur? What's going on?"

"Merlin," Arthur choked out, his voice rough with guilt, sorrow, and fear alike. Merlin rushed to Arthur's side at the sound, trying to urge him out of the cell, away from whatever issue was causing Arthur such pain.

Standing firm, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Merlin, I need you to... to do something for me."

Concern marred Merlin features as he reached out to Arthur.

"Of course, I would do anything for you Arthur."

Arthur swallowed roughly, trying to force his next words out of his throat. He'd ordered executions before, hell, he'd even ordered this man's execution before, but this was much, much harder than any of the other orders he'd given.

"Merlin, I need you to... take care of this man, as you normally do for enemies of Camelot."

Merlin reeled back with shock, looking somewhere between confused and hurt.

"Arthur, you can't possibly mean for me to..."

"I'm sorry, but yes Merlin, it needs to be done."

Merlin stared at Arthur for a few more moments, before slowly nodding his head and turning towards the bound criminal.

As Merlin stepped closer to the doomed noble, Arthur closed his eyes and turned his head away. Perhaps it was cowardice, but if there were ever a time for Arthur to show such cowardly behavior, it was here. He didn't want to see this part of Merlin.

He did, however, hear everything. There was a scream from the criminal, which was sickeningly cut off by a loud wet crunch that echoes off of the cell's walls, and then there was no sound in the cell except a very loud silence.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes to the sight of Merlin standing in front of a corpse and tried to believe that everything was still normal.

And that's a wrap on this au! Man, that got darker than I expected it to be.

Be sure to let me know if you'd like a continuation of this au!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[blackynsupremacy]

PARTY AND BULLSHIT

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: you and your boyfriend kick the new year off in the right way.

contains: inspired by this post by @cvntynac, 18+ content (mdni), oral (m receiving), face fucking, public sex, bathroom sex, praise, nut swallowing, making out, implied intercourse towards the end.

a/n: happy new year, taglist and mutuals! may this one be better than the last.

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @venic-bxtch @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy @cvntynac

“fuck, that’s it, baby.”

nicholas egged you on, one of his large hands caress your glowing, made up face while the other gently raked through your scalp as he watched his dick fill your mouth inch by inch. his body leaned backward into the white sink, the once blaring music from the party you were attending was now muffled behind the bathroom door. nicholas couldn’t contain himself this whole evening—not with how you were looking tonight. that short, strapless gold dress that you donned complimented your body type and skin tone so well. he couldn’t say enough of how ethereal you looked when you stepped out to reveal yourself after completing your final look. from head to toe, you had nicholas weak in the knees and tight in the pants. just when you guys were about to leave the house, he was even considering backing out of the event.

“babe, do we really have to go? i mean, we can celebrate new years in another way.” he tried to use that soft coaxing voice and brown, puppy eyes to try to get his way. you’d shake your head, giggling while holding onto his jaw and placing a sweet kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“as tempting as that sounds, i really wanna go out and turn up for ‘twenty-five. if you’re a good boy tonight, we can celebrate a little early.” it was now your turn to give him puppy eyes with the playful, flirtatious flutter of your lashes,

“you’d do that for me, right, nick baby?”

at the use of that nickname, you knew you’d come to a common ground with your boyfriend as you were already on the dance floor with a drink in hand. nicholas kept his end of the bargain so far—until you invited him to join you. the bass blasted through the speakers as you sensually swayed and ground your hips into his to the beat. fortunately for nicholas, he could handle what was given, but the farther you pushed up against him in that dress, the harder his dick grew. that’s how it led you to being pulled into the bathroom by him. it wasn’t long before you both gave into your desire for each other and now your head between his legs to ease the ache that he endured.

“mm-hmm.”

you hummed against the veiny skin of the impressive girth of his dick. your hands pressed onto his thick thighs with your cheeks hollowed and your head moving up and down like nothing else mattered besides nicholas’ pleasure. you paused your movements momentarily to swirl your tongue around his pink, leaking tip like a popsicle before resuming your movements. you guided your mouth to take him even deeper to the point that his tip would graze the back your throat. nicholas grip grew tighter around you, his hips start to roll with your head moving in rhythm.

“shit, my girl looks so beautiful with my dick in her mouth—you’re taking me well, sweetheart.” nicholas praised, his hips gaining a bit in speed.

god, he fucking loved how you devoured him like he was a rare delicacy. he could notice from below how your breasts were peaking out from the top of your dress, the matching golden eyeshadow glimmered on your half-lidded eyes, and your full drooling, glossed lips enclosing around the shaft to completely immerse him within the warm cavern of your mouth had his head spinning. once your hand joined the party to knead and squeeze on his balls, he was a goner for sure.

“m’bout to cum, doll. be a good fucking girl and take it—all of it.” he precisely moved his hips back and forth. at the sight of your saliva dripping from your mouth on the plush mound of your chest, they got sloppier and sloppier. your eyes started to water and your nose started to run as you thought you were gonna choke, but did you give a fuck? nah, you just wanna see your boyfriend reach his climax. nicholas let go of his grip on you and held onto the white sink behind him to balance himself as he spilled his seed within the back of your throat.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” he exclaimed, the overwhelming pleasure crashing over him.

you took it all with no problem, swallowing every drop like water. as soon as you popped him out of your mouth, nicholas swiftly carried you with your legs around his waist to sit you on the edge of the sink. he positioned himself between your legs and before you could continue any further, you both paused to hear the rest of the partiers shout,

“FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE— HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

you smile at each other, simultaneously exchanging the same holiday greeting. nicholas tenderly wiped away any tears that happened to fall from your eyes before you took the opportunity of grasping onto your boyfriend’s face, marking yet another cross over into a new year as a couple with a searing kiss on his lips to which he instinctively returns. his hands are placed at your waist before they start to roam your body. you moan out into his mouth when he grips onto your ass to grind your hips into his, not forgetting to slip his tongue within your mouth to swirl around yours. his hands journey right down to your thighs before spreading them wider and slithering underneath the dress to finally remove the damp, lace thong you wore.

although you were at a party, it was time for the real celebration to begin.

[folkdevilfables]

✵ Arachnid Ambuscade | Solomon x gn!reader

drabble (0.7k words) | sfw | gn!reader | fluff/angst

cw: spider mention, set in Nightbringer, mutual attraction, no established relationship, MC is an oblivious dunce & Solomon is touchstarved to the point that sudden close physical contact with his LI nearly makes him faint on the spot lmao

You were simply minding your own business, reorganizing some things in your room at Cocytus Hall when you suddenly noticed a huge spider twice the size of your hand on the wall to your left.

You let out a little scream and jumped away from the wall, bumping into something. Or someone.

"MC? Are you okay?"

You felt Solomon behind you stiffen in surprise as you bumped into him, one of your hands brushing his thigh. Or his hip. You couldn't really tell, you were too occupied with anxiously staring at the big spider on your bedroom wall to keep watch of whether it was moving or not.

While the sight of a spider didn't put you in a state of panic, you didn't really like spiders all that much. Especially when they were potentially dangerous and/or appeared on the wall of your bedroom wholly uninvited, deciding they intended to make your room their forever home and not pay any rent. You weren’t a big fan to say the least.

Small spiders weren't really a problem, it was the bigger ones that you were mildly terrified of. Which was stupid when you thought about it, since the smaller ones were usually the venomous ones and the bigger ones rather harmless... But you were in the Devildom and just assumed that everything was out to get you six feet under by default.

"Please get the spider out of my room, Solomon. Please please please."

You shrieked and winced as it moved.

"Anything for my adorable apprentice."

One incantation later and the spider was gone.

"...Is it gone?" Yes, you were looking at the obviously spiderless wall, but you wanted to make extra sure. Just in case. Better safe than sorry.

"Yes. I used a teleportation spell to send it to another place, away from Cocytus Hall."

"Oh, thank Diavolo." You let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Solomon!"

Turning around, you hugged him.

The surprise of a sudden hug caught the sorcerer off-guard. It took him a second to regain his composure and hug you back.

"Anyday, MC."

As you wrapped your arms around him, you felt his heart beating ferociously in his chest.

You looked up and wanted to ask him if everything was alright, but then you saw that he had small ivory feathers in his hair.

"Did your pillows explode during one of your experiments? There are feathers in your hair."

Without asking for his permission, you reached up to gently pluck the feathers out of his hair, your hand brushing his cheeks and nose several times in the process.

A good look at his face showed that his cheeks were now pale pink and his breaths ever so slightly shallow.

You eyed him worriedly. "Sol, are you okay? Do you have a fever? Was the spicy zombie dragon liver curry you ate for lunch today a little too much for you? Do you want me to go get you some medica-"

Before he had the chance to respond your D.D.D started ringing, the sudden loud noise startling both of you. Taking a step back from Solomon, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and answered the call.

"MC, there’s a giant spider in the House of Lamentation and it has already devoured Asmo's vanity and Mammon's car and now it’s chasing us!" You heard Asmo's blood curdling scream in the background while Levi was panting, trying to hastily explain the situation while presumably running for his life. "Lucifer is currently at the Demon Lord's Castle - Please, you need to help! I don't know how much longer we can run!" Mammon yowled as Levi shrieked and the sound of something being smashed could be heard.

You looked at Solomon.

The sorcerer was attentively watching you, sporting a sly smirk.

"I... erm... Levi... I don't know how to tell you this, but I can't handle spiders myself. I'm sorry, I doubt I’d be any help."

"Please MC, anything -"

Solomon gingerly plucked the D.D.D out of your hand.

"I'm sorry Leviathan, but this is one of MC's scheduled off days and they're very busy currently. I'm sure you'll be able to handle the spider on your own. Good Luck!" He cheerily ended the call and placed your phone back on the nightstand.

You shuddered. "Well, I won't be setting foot into the House of Lamentation until that spider is gone, that's for sure."

Solomon smugly smiled. "Perfect, that means I get more time to have you to myself."

Unedited Solomon icon can be found here | support banner and divider made by @/saradika | all rights reserved banner by @/cafekitsune