#HE PURRING HE TECHNICALLY PURRING I LOVE

[missdynamighttt]

happy birthday to the love of my life, katsuki bakugo. hope he enjoys his gift for his easter birthday: his favorite little bunny.

it had started with a birthday plan. well—technically a birthday easter plan. the odds of katsuki bakugo’s birthday landing on easter sunday weren’t high, but fate had a sense of humor. and you? you had a sense of drama.

you’d already given him gifts for his birthday. his letter—handwritten, sealed with a kiss, full of sharp sarcasm wrapped around soft, sappy sentiment you’d never admit out loud.

he read it quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed, thumb brushing over your kiss mark at the bottom. his brows furrowed in that way they always did when he was feeling too much but didn’t want to show it.

“you’re such a damn brat,” he muttered, voice thick, eyes refusing to meet yours. “but… you write good shit.”

“don’t cry, tough guy.”

he didn’t look up, just folded the letter carefully—too carefully—and tucked it into his nightstand drawer like it was something fragile. precious.

“shut up,” he said, voice rough. “you’re lucky i like your dumb handwriting. even if it looks like a drunk squirrel tried to learn cursive and gave up halfway.”

“aww. that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“don’t push it.”

he reached out, grabbed the front of your shirt, and yanked you into a rough, lingering kiss that left no room for misinterpretation. when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“best fuckin’ letter i’ve ever gotten,” he murmured, low and soft like a secret.

a few small gifts were scattered on the dresser: limited edition all might merch, a new hoodie he’d been eyeing for a while (that he absolutely knew you were going to steal), and that spicy snack mix he always hoarded like a dragon with gold.

he stood there, arms crossed, doing his best to look unimpressed, but the way his ears turned a little red gave him away.

he eyed the merch first, holding the figure up with a raised brow. “…you been stalkin’ my browser history or somethin’?”

you grinned. “nah. just love you enough to pay attention.”

he shot you a look—equal parts flustered and fond. “tch. hoodie’s mine. you’re just gonna steal this in two days.”

“i give it one,” you said sweetly.

he looked at you, eyes soft but unreadable. “still wearin’ it anyway.” then he found the snack mix. “you didn’t eat any, right?”

you gasped, mock offended. “i would never.”

still, he leaned down and kissed your cheek before grabbing the snack mix and tearing it open immediately.

the cake? well, it was slightly lopsided, the frosting uneven, but it was made with love—and caramel with cinnamon. he didn’t say much when he ate it, just grunted, grabbed a fork, and took a second slice without a word.

you hovered awkwardly nearby. “so… good?”

he chewed slowly, gave you a deadpan look. “tastes like love and poor frosting skills.”

“rude.”

he grinned, leaned over, and pressed a sweet kiss to your temple. “still the best fuckin’ cake i’ve had in years.”

“you say that every time.”

“yeah,” he said, mouth full. “and i fuckin’ mean it every time.”

now, though, it was time for the real present.

so when he walked into your shared bedroom after a long morning of birthday messages and half-assed hero paperwork, the last thing he expected was you, perched pretty on the bed.

pink bunny ears twitching with every little movement you made. a tight, pastel one-piece hugging your every curve. sheer stockings accentuating your thighs, and a fluffy little tail pinned to your lower back like a gift-wrapped tease.

katsuki stood by the edge of the bed, arms crossed, expression unreadable as he took you in.

you sat perched on the bed, legs crossed, every bit the picture of flirty confidence. your gaze was locked on his, unapologetic.

“happy birthday, katsuki,” you purred, lips curling into a sly smile.

his crimson eyes dragged over you slowly, deliberately, his tongue running over his teeth before he finally spoke. “the fuck is this?”

“what’s it look like, hm?” you stretched out, back arching just enough to show off your curves. “figured i’d... hop into something special for you.”

his jaw ticked. “you think you’re funny, huh?”

“a little,” you admitted, shifting onto your hands and knees, crawling toward him at the edge of the bed.

his eyes darkened as you closed the distance, your hands sliding up his chest when you reached for him, kneeling in front of him. “thought you’d like a cute little bunny to play with, birthday boy."

katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose, grabbing your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up so you were forced to meet his gaze.

“you know what happens to dumb little bunnies who tease too much?”

you swallowed, trying to keep your confidence, even as the heat in his gaze sent shivers down your spine. “they get spoiled rotten?”

“wrong. they get fucked.”

a thrill shot through you, heat pooling in your stomach as he crowded closer, his other hand slipping down to grab your ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

“bet you thought you were bein’ cute, puttin’ this on. bet you thought i’d let you bounce around and tease me all night.”

you let out a breathless giggle. “bunnies do like to bounce…

his fingers trailed down your back, playing with the delicate ribbon lacing up your tail before giving it a sharp tug. you gasped, gripping his shoulders to steady yourself.

“that so?” his lips brushed against your ear. “then let’s see how long you last when i really make you bounce.”

he took you in—your ridiculously boner-inducing ensemble, the way your chest rose and fell a little faster, the anticipation in your eyes. then, with slow precision, he sat down on the edge of the bed and patted his thigh.

"come here," he ordered, voice thick with authority.

you swallowed, your body already thrumming with heat as you climbed onto his lap. his hands settled on your waist, thumbs stroking your skin through the sheer fabric of your stockings. he let you hover there, deliberately drawing out the moment, making you feel the power shift between you.

"go on," katsuki murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he guided your hips to settle against him. the heat of him pressed against you, even through the layers between you.

your breath hitched as he held you there, letting you feel just how hard he was, how much he wanted you. his grip was firm, unwavering, making it clear that he was in control even as he let you take the lead.

he shifted, leaning back to watch you straddling his lap. his hands slid down, gripping your hips, guiding you to grind against him—slow, deliberate, teasing. the heat between you was undeniable, the layers of fabric doing little to hide just how affected you both were.

you whimpered, trying to tug your bodysuit aside, reaching for the bulge pressing up against your core. but his hands stopped you, fingers curling around your wrist.

“uh-uh,” he hummed. “not yet. little bunnies gotta hump first.”

you whined softly, frustration bubbling to the surface as you squirmed in his lap. “katsuki, please—”

“please, what?” he cut you off, voice sharp, mocking. “please fuck you already?”

you nodded desperately, biting your lip.

he scoffed, his expression darkening as his hand shot up to tangle in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to expose your throat.

“i said hump,” he growled. “that needy little cunt doesn’t get filled until you earn it.”

you tried to slow, to catch your breath, but his hands were relentless, grinding your hips against the hard line of his cock beneath you.

his fingers dig in as he helped you move. every time you tried to slow down, his hands tightened, forcing you to keep up, forcing you to take it.

you barely had time to catch your breath before katsuki pulled you forward, burying his face between your tits.

“fuck, you’re soft,” he groaned, tugging the fabric away before his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking hard.

you gasped, back arching as heat shot straight between your legs. his teeth grazed your sensitive skin before his tongue soothed over it, his other hand coming up to knead your other breast.

you tried to keep moving, to keep bouncing, but between his hands gripping you and his mouth marking you up, your body was giving out, shaking from the overwhelming pleasure.

“k-katsuki—” you gasped, hands tangling in his hair, tugging.

he growled against your skin, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, his lips glistening. his smirk was feral, eyes burning with satisfaction.

“hm? thought you liked to bounce?” his fingers dug deeper into your thighs, a warning. “or do i gotta fuck you like the greedy little thing you are?”

you whimpered, hips bucking desperately along with a nod. he laughed, licking a stripe up your chest before capturing your nipple between his teeth again.

“that’s it,” he praised, voice strained. “knew you’d look so fuckin’ good like this.”

you sobbed, rolling your hips, desperate for more, and he grinned like he’d won. you weren’t sure how long he made you keep going, but by the time he finally took the reins, you knew you were fucked.

“aww, poor thing,” he cooed mockingly, pressing a hot kiss to your throat before nipping at your skin. “tired already? guess i better take over before my little bunny gets too worn out, huh?"

before you could respond, he shifted, one arm wrapping tight around your waist as the other yanked your bodysuit to the side, finally giving you what you’d been aching for.

the thick head of his cock pressed against your dripping entrance, teasing, pushing just enough to make your breath catch.

nails digging into his shoulders, your legs trembling as he eased inside—slow and torturous, filling you inch by inch until your walls clenched around him.

katsuki groaned through gritted teeth, holding you still for a second, letting the stretch overwhelm you. then his eyes flicked up to your face, and that familiar, dark grin curved his lips.

“you wanted to be a cute little bunny, huh?” katsuki grunted, fingers digging into your hips, guiding you as you bounced on his cock. “bunnies fuck like crazy, y’know that? they go at it all night long.”

you could barely respond, your moans breaking into gasps as he thrust up to meet you, driving deeper, harder, forcing you to take him to the hilt every time.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he taunted, voice thick with amusement. his fingers dug in as he guided you, making sure you didn’t slow down. “thought bunnies were supposed to be full of energy.”

you whined, gripping onto his shoulders for support, trying to keep up with the brutal pace he was setting.

each bounce forced his cock deeper, the obscene sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room. you whimpered, legs shaking as he controlled your pace, refusing to let you fall back into lazy movements.

he leaned forward, breath hot against your ear. “put on the ears, shake your ass, act like a toy—and now you’re surprised i’m treatin’ you like one?”

you sobbed, clutching at him, body trembling from the overwhelming mix of pain, pleasure, and the pure, filthy thrill of being used exactly how you wanted.

“good fuckin’ girl,” he rasped, slamming up into you harder.

your moans were broken, breathless, every movement sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. your hands clutched at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto as he thrust up to meet you, filling you so deep it made your head spin.

your head fell against his shoulder, body shuddering as pleasure built higher, hotter. his arms wrapped around you, keeping you flush against him as he took control, lifting you just to slam you back down, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

every time your pace faltered, he’d lift his hips, thrusting up into you so deep it stole the breath from your lungs. a whimper slipped from your lips, fingers digging into his chest as you tried to keep up, but he wasn’t making it easy.

“what if i fill you up, huh? make sure this bunny knows her fuckin’ place?”

he suddenly slammed you down onto him, making you cry out, and he groaned low in his throat. your nails raked down his back as another wave of pleasure crashed over you, but he wasn’t letting up—not when you looked so fucked-out and desperate.

“gotta train you better,” he muttered against your skin, his smirk widening when you clenched around him. “bunnies are supposed to breed, aren’t they?”

you let out a broken moan, body shuddering, and he laughed breathlessly, one hand slipping down between your bodies to rub tight circles against your clit.

he was gripping your waist before flipping you in one fluid motion, pressing you down into the sheets. his breath was hot against your ear as he settled behind you, caging you in.

“aww, don’t tell me you’re tappin’ out already?” he cooed, tilting his head. “and here i was thinkin’ i’d finally get to see you breed like a proper bunny.”

heat shot through you at his words, making you clench around him, and katsuki groaned, his grip on you tightening.

“oh? you like that?” his grin widened. “shit, maybe you are just a dumb little bunny in heat.”

you gasped, nails dragging down his back, and his hips suddenly snapping up to meet yours, driving deeper, harder—sending sparks of pleasure up your spine.

katsuki didn’t give you a second to breathe. toes curling against the sheets, your vision blurring as he fucked into you harder. the slap of skin echoed through the room, punctuated by your gasps and his low, hungry groans.

“that needy little pussy’s fuckin’ leaking,” he growled, dragging his fingers through your slick before pressing them against your clit in tight, punishing circles. “soaked through that slutty little costume, too.”

you choked on another moan, face buried in his chest as your body shuddered, everything building—tight, unbearable, right on the edge.

“gonna cum like a dumb bunny while i fuck you full? huh?” he taunted, pulling your head closer by the ears on your head and forcing your back to arch deeper.

“yes, yes, katsuki, please—” you sobbed.

“beg for it. tell me what you fuckin’ want.”

“i want you to—want you to cum inside, need it, need it so bad, katsu—”

“yeah?” his thrusts faltered for only a second, a low, wicked groan slipping from his throat. “wanna be bred, huh? wanna be my filthy little bunny full of cum?”

you cried out, so close it hurt. “yes! please—please, fill me up—”

his grip tightened on your hips as he slammed into you one final time, deep, brutal, until you screamed his name. your body convulsed, pleasure crashing through you as you clenched around him, falling apart.

“take it. every fuckin’ drop.”

katsuki growled low, and then he was spilling inside you, hot and thick, hips jerking with each pulse. he buried his cock twitching deep inside you as he spilled hot, thick spurts into your clenching walls.

you whimpered as you felt it, the heat of him flooding you, dripping out before he’d even pulled out.

katsuki didn’t let go right away. he held you there, impaled and filled, his breath ragged against your shoulder. he stayed pressed against your chest, panting, one hand stroking slowly down your side as the other cradled your hip with surprising gentleness.

“shit,” he muttered against your skin, lips brushing your shoulder as his breath slowed. “fuckin’ hell..”

you snorted, too tired to do more than flop your face into the sheets. “that what you wished for when you blew out the candles?”

he chuckled—an honest-to-god laugh rumbling from his chest as he finally eased out of you, warm stickiness following in the wake.

“didn’t know i could wish for somethin’ i already had.”

“wow. look at you. getting soft in your old age.”

“twenty-six is not old,” he grumbled, but the faint blush on his ears betrayed him.

you hummed teasingly. “sure, grandpa.”

katsuki shot you a warning look, but instead of snapping back, his hand came up to card through your hair, bunny ears askew and all, his fingers surprisingly gentle.

“so... did the costume make the top ten birthday presents list, or…?”

katsuki huffed out something between a laugh and a groan, finally pulling out of you slowly, both of you flinching a little at the oversensitivity.

you felt the mess between your thighs instantly—sticky and warm, dripping down your skin—and you shivered at the loss of him.

his hands never left your body as he shifted you gently onto your back, reaching for the nearby towel he’d tossed on the nightstand earlier—because of course he was prepared, even if he pretended not to be.

“top three,” he muttered, wiping you down carefully. “right after the cake and that dumbass letter that made me feel shit.”

you flopped onto your back with a dramatic sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. “didn’t think birthday boys had to do cleanup.”

he shot you a look as he gently dabbed between your thighs, taking his time, making sure you were comfortable. “birthday boy’s the one who ruined you, so yeah—he fuckin’ does.”

you smiled, soft and real this time. “you’re getting sappy in your old age.”

he tossed the towel aside and climbed back onto the bed, settling beside you, pulling you into his chest like it was instinct. “yeah, well, turns out its not too bad when i’ve got a stubborn, sexy weirdo wearin’ bunny ears for me.”

you laughed against his collarbone. “you’re lucky i love you.”

katsuki kissed the top of your head, nose brushing against your ear. “nah. i’m lucky you’re mine.”

“and i’m lucky you’re easy to distract with cake and tits. y’know, i was actually gonna jump out of a giant egg and yell ‘surprise!’ but i figured you’d actually murder me.”

“you’re not wrong,” he said, arm tightening around you. “and you look better in that stupid bunny suit anyway.”

“careful, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

“say that again and you’re spendin’ next year’s birthday with a vibrator and a guilt trip.”

“worth it.”

he glared at you before he stripped you, hands moving with familiar precision as he pulled off the bunny ears, the one-piece, and the stockings that had barely survived his earlier onslaught.

without a word, he grabbed one of his old t-shirts and slid it over your head, the fabric swallowing you up, before he joined you under the blankets.

you felt his gaze on you, warm and intense, and you looked up at him, brow arched. “what?”

he stared at you for a long moment, his expression softening as he took in every detail of you—maybe still a little in awe, maybe still a little surprised at the way you fit against him. his fingers lightly brushed your hair away from your face.

"god, i love you. so fuckin’ much, baby.”

your heart did somersaults. but you nuzzled in closer to him.

“i love you too, old man.”

“tch. shut up and go to sleep,” he grumbled, brushing a kiss over your cheek.

but as you started to drift, wrapped in his warmth and the lingering high of everything, he murmured, barely audible:

“best fuckin’ birthday ever.”

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ AHHH HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY MAN 💗💗 omgomg i apologize for the blogs i couldnt tag, blog name wouldnt come up for some reason😭😭 I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THO 😝😝 please consider this my 4k special lmao (its only fitting sinces it 4/20 and shi), instead breeding kink with katsuki is 5k special!! would like to thank this request (one of the few first requests i had when i started this account), hope this fulfilled your request somehow!! 💗💗

⋆˚࿔ tags ˚⋆ @kodzubaby @akiii143 @mindless-existence1 @dollyfetti @st4ntwic3 @skylermiller1 @sugarcubepop @jazzywazzy859 @jealousmartini @kksmush @2elusional @ch3rryjampi3 @happinessisabutterflie @thirstygorl @zennypiee @kiansss @dullcets @kirishimasboobs @jo8920 @vrtualghoulz @inlovewjay @grim-reapers-wife @just0jordyn @ettesxythia @quixtic @whorecityyy @izayanara @valeriannnnnn @hanako-0kun @lmaolmaolmao @raining4food

[rosemaryhoney27]

"Diplomacy for the Feral and the Damned"

Bruce had just sat down in the Batcave with his second cup of post-patrol coffee—black as his mood, strong enough to keep a Kryptonian awake—when his private line buzzed. Not the Batline. Not the board line. The one buried so deep in encryption and passive-aggressive threats that even Oracle called it “Extra-Paranoid Mode.”

He stared. [Incoming Call: Vladimir Masters]

Bruce blinked. “…Oh, this is going to be a day.”

He answered with the flat monotone that had driven Gotham’s underworld into therapy. “Vlad.”

The holographic screen flickered to life—and there he was. Vladimir Masters, looking every inch the eccentric billionaire and possibly more ghost than man now. Silver-haired, in a robe that screamed “I paid three million for this and regret nothing,” surrounded by classical art, levitating books, and the faint crackle of ectoplasmic interference. The whole aesthetic screamed “If Lex Luthor was haunted by a Victorian novelist.”

Vlad beamed. “Brucie!”

Bruce’s eye twitched. “Don’t call me that.”

“It’s lovely to hear your voice, dear cousin. It’s been too long.”

Jason, eavesdropping from the shadows with popcorn, whispered, “Wait. Cousin? Since when do we have that brand of family drama?”

“Shh,” Tim muttered, scribbling something labeled Possible Interdimensional Ghost Cousins Conspiracy.

“I need your advice,” Vlad continued. “Something very personal. Deeply serious.”

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What now, Vlad?”

Vlad leaned forward, the screen staticking briefly. “How do you get your children to be civil with you?”

There was silence. Real, echoing, existential silence.

“…I wasn’t aware you had adopted children, Vlad,” Bruce said slowly, like trying not to scare off a rabid raccoon.

“I haven’t. Not technically,” Vlad said breezily. “But my godson is staying with me. Lovely boy. Has the appetite of a black hole and the sense of self-preservation of a rabid badger.”

“...Oh god,” whispered Dick, “he sounds like all of us.”

“Cute that Masters thinks we’re civil,” Damian sniffed. “How charmingly misinformed.”

“Wait. He said godson?” Tim asked, eyes lighting up. “Do you think—could it be—Phantom?”

Vlad didn’t notice the peanut gallery commentary. “The boy has caused four minor diplomatic incidents, bitten a baron, vanished into the ceiling during a formal gala, and accused a senator of being a reptilian. Which turned out to be accurate, but the delivery was unkind.”

Bruce squinted. “That sounds like… Dick, Damian, and Tim at the Wayne Foundation Spring Gala ‘19.”

“I know!” Vlad pointed at him like a man discovering fire. “That’s exactly what I said! He’s like your sons! In one small, glowing, vaguely feral body!”

“Glowing?” Steph mouthed. “Definitely Phantom.”

“So, cousin dearest,” Vlad purred. “How do you get them to listen? How do you parent the chaos incarnate?”

Bruce took a long, tired sip of his coffee and simply said, “I don’t.”

“…You don’t?”

“I survive it.”

“Bold of him to call this survival,” muttered Cass as Jason started texting Alfred for cookies and emotional support.

“Each one is an unpredictable event wrapped in trauma and tactical gear,” Bruce continued flatly. “They will not listen. They may occasionally pretend to. But only after chaos. Much, much chaos.”

Vlad sighed, running a hand through his hair. “So there’s no secret Wayne method? No clever strategy?”

“...Cookies?” Bruce offered.

From beneath the desk, something gnawed at Vlad’s ankle.

He glanced down and hissed, “Danny, stop that, I told you we don’t bite family!”

“He said that senator looked like a snake,” came the muffled voice. “And I was right.”

Vlad groaned. “Why couldn’t he just be one kind of disaster? Why all of them?”

Jason grinned. “I like this kid.”

“New cousin,” Steph agreed. “Absolutely chaotic. Ten outta ten.”

Vlad looked back up at Bruce. “So. No help?”

Bruce looked thoughtful. “Keep fire extinguishers on hand. Avoid hosting events near chandeliers. Always assume they have at least two hidden weapons. And get used to being called ‘Dad’ at the most inconvenient political moments.”

A pause.

“Also,” he added, “tell him you’re proud. Even when he’s a disaster. Especially then.”

Vlad blinked. “...That worked for you?”

Bruce glanced around the cave. Steph had stolen Tim’s notes and was writing “FERAL COUSIN CLUB” across the top. Jason was already planning a trip to Amity Park. Damian was silently judging the snack selection of this new relative. And Dick was on his phone already texting Danny memes.

“…Eventually,” Bruce muttered.

“Charming,” Vlad sighed.

From under the desk: crunch.

“Danny! Stop chewing my furniture!”

Danny peeked out, sharp-toothed grin gleaming, eyes flickering green. “Tell B-man I wanna go to one of those galas next time. I wanna meet chandelier boy.”

Jason fist-pumped. “YES.”

Bruce just sighed. “...I’ll warn the staff.”

[xichilie]

Phainon x (fem)reader x Mydei

Phainon’s Purr-dicament

This was not how today was supposed to go.

One minute, Phainon had been grinning like usual, confidently leading their little trio through the ruins as he boasted about how clearly he was the most capable one here. The next? A blinding flash from the relic they were investigating—then darkness.

And now?

Now he was a tiny, fluffy, white cat.

He sat there, tail flicking in irritation, staring up at Mydei and Y/N in absolute disbelief.

“…You have got to be kidding me,” Mydei muttered, rubbing his temples.

“Wait—” Y/N gasped, kneeling down. “Where’s Phainon?”

I’M RIGHT HERE! Phainon tried to shout. But all that came out was—

"Meow."

A long silence stretched between them.

Then Mydei sighed. Deeply.

Phainon quickly realized two things.

One: He couldn’t talk, which meant he couldn’t properly yell at Mydei or brag about how technically this wasn’t his fault.

Two: Y/N was obsessed with him like this.

“Oh, look at you,” she gushed, scooping him up into her arms. “You’re adorable!”

Phainon froze.

This… this was nice. Very nice. Y/N was cradling him close, her hands stroking through his fur, her voice soft and affectionate. He was practically melting. And the best part?

Mydei looked annoyed.

“Ugh.” Mydei crossed his arms. “Are we seriously stopping everything because Phainon turned into a walking puffball?”

Y/N ignored him, holding Phainon up so they were eye-to-eye. “Don’t listen to him. You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

If Phainon could smirk, he would. Instead, he smugly flicked his tail.

Mydei glared. “Oh, you are way too happy about this.”

Phainon, completely unbothered, stretched lazily in Y/N’s arms, his fluffy little paws resting against her chest.

“Oh, and he’s so soft,” Y/N continued, now scratching gently under his chin.

Phainon had never been this close to her before. And it was glorious.

Mydei was officially done. “Okay. That’s enough.”

“No, it’s not,” Y/N argued, still completely absorbed in Phainon. “Look at him. He’s purring!”

Indeed, Phainon was purring like his life depended on it.

Mydei exhaled sharply. “Unbelievable.”

Phainon flicked an ear, sending Mydei a look that very clearly said: Sucks to be you, huh?

Mydei twitched. “You better hope we don’t figure out how to turn you back too fast, because the moment you have hands again, I will make you regret this.”

Phainon just yawned. Dramatically.

Y/N smiled. “Don’t worry, Phai, we’ll fix this soon.”

Take your time, Phainon thought, settling comfortably in her arms.

He could get used to this.

After what felt like an eternity of Y/N showering Phainon with affection (not that he was complaining), Mydei finally groaned. “Alright, we do have an actual mission, remember?”

Y/N, still holding Phainon close, tilted her head. “Right… but we also have a tiny problem.” She glanced down at the fluffy cat in her arms, who blinked up at her innocently. “We can’t just leave Phai like this.”

Phainon gave her a slow blink—something he had learned cats did when they liked someone.

Y/N’s heart melted. “Aww, Mydei, did you see that? He trusts me.”

Mydei pinched the bridge of his nose. “He is him but smaller and with fur. Don’t fall for his act.”

Phainon stretched, his little paws pressing against Y/N’s chest again as he nestled in closer.

Mydei’s eye twitched. “Oh, he is enjoying this.”

Y/N giggled. “Of course he is! He’s getting spoiled.”

Phainon was getting spoiled, and he absolutely loved it. Not only was Y/N practically glued to him, but Mydei’s growing frustration was delicious.

“Alright,” Mydei sighed, crossing his arms. “How do we fix him?”

Y/N hummed. “We could go back to Okhama and ask the scholars. Maybe they know something about this relic.”

Phainon flicked his tail. That… sounded like a lot of effort. And possibly a lot of boring lectures.

Mydei nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably the best option. Unless you’d rather stay a house cat for the rest of your life.”

Phainon’s tail lashed. Don’t test me.

Y/N gasped dramatically. “Oh, but imagine if we can’t fix him! I’d have to keep him as a pet.”

Phainon’s ears perked up. That doesn’t sound so bad…

“I’d have to take him everywhere with me,” Y/N continued, clearly enjoying the idea. “I’d get him a little collar, maybe a tiny cape—”

Phainon beamed internally. Yes. Yes, tell me more.

Mydei looked horrified. “Absolutely not.”

Y/N pouted. “Why not? He’d be so cute.”

“Because the moment he’s human again, we’d never hear the end of it!” Mydei pointed accusingly at the cat in question. “He’d bring it up every day!”

Phainon simply curled up smugly in Y/N’s arms, tail wrapping around himself like a little prince.

Y/N giggled. “Okay, okay. Let’s get going.”

Back at Okhema…

By the time they arrived, word had already spread that Y/N was carrying around an unusually friendly, fluffy white cat. People kept stopping her, cooing over “such a beautiful little thing.”

Phainon, of course, lapped up every ounce of attention.

Y/N, beaming, let a group of kids pet him while Mydei stood nearby looking deeply unimpressed.

“Look at him,” Mydei muttered. “He’s supposed to be suffering, and instead he’s being pampered like some divine beast.”

Y/N giggled as Phainon purred louder, snuggling against her. “Oh, don’t be jealous.”

Mydei scoffed. “I am not jealous.”

At that moment, an older merchant lady stopped to admire Phainon. “Such a sweet little kitty!” She gave him a few head scritches before glancing at Y/N. “Is he yours?”

Y/N hesitated. “Oh, well, not exactly—”

“No,” Mydei interrupted flatly. “No, he’s a stray from the dumpster.”

Phainon glared.

The merchant chuckled. “He’s clearly attached to you.”

Phainon smugly flicked his tail. That’s right. I am.

Y/N smiled. “He really is.”

Mydei groaned.

After a long and extremely smug walk through the city, they finally arrived at the scholar’s hall. An elder scholar examined the relic, nodding sagely.

“Ah, this is a transformation artifact. Ancient magic, quite powerful. Thankfully, the effect is temporary.”

Phainon’s ears perked up. Oh?

“How temporary?” Mydei asked.

“A day, at most,” the scholar said. “Possibly a few more hours.”

Y/N pouted. “Oh. I was starting to like having him as a little cat.”

Phainon was about to agree—until he noticed Mydei smirking.

“Oh, fantastic,” Mydei said, tone dripping with satisfaction. “Because the moment you’re back to normal, Phainon, you and I are having a very long conversation about this entire day.”

Phainon suddenly wasn’t in such a hurry to be human again.

True to the scholar’s word, Phainon eventually started glowing.

Y/N placed him gently on the ground, stepping back as the golden light enveloped him.

When it faded—there he was. Back in his full, human glory.

Grinning, Phainon stretched. “Oh, it’s so good to have hands again.”

Y/N chuckled. “Welcome back.”

And then—before he could do anything else—Mydei grabbed the collar of his coat.

Phainon barely had time to react before Mydei dragged him outside.

“Alright,” Mydei said, voice too calm. “You had way too much fun today.”

Phainon smirked. “Oh, did I?”

Mydei’s eye twitched. “You purring? Absolutely disgusting.”

Phainon grinned wider. “Jealous?”

Mydei groaned.

Y/N, still inside, watched them go with an amused smile.

Honestly? She had kind of enjoyed Phainon’s Purr-dicament.

And something told her he had too.

[anglbunny]

please stop doing stepcest its actually disgusting 🥀

🃏

STEP BRO?

♡. stepbro!kaiser, stepcest, smut mdni, fingering, dub-con (kinda)

It was always like this with Kaiser. He didn’t follow rules. Not the house ones, not school ones, and definitely not the ones that were supposed to keep step-siblings from doing… this.

You hated him. Because here you were — again — back pressed to the kitchen counter at 2AM, wearing nothing but a sleep shirt and your pride. His hand braced beside your head. That dangerous little smirk pulling at his mouth.

“You always sneak around like you want me to catch you off guard,” he murmured, eyes flicking down to your thighs.

You swallowed hard. “This is the kitchen.”

“This is my kitchen,” he corrected. technically it was his house but gosh.. “And you’re standing in my spot.”

“I’m making tea—”

“Wanna know what I think?” he cut in, voice low, dripping with wicked confidence. “I think you wear those tiny little shorts hoping I’ll notice. I think you like it when I look at you like this.”

You glared, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re disgusting.”

He laughed — and fuck, he was beautiful when he did. Sharp jaw, low lashes, the curve of his mouth sinful as ever.

“Keep saying that,” he said, stepping closer. “But you’re still here. Still letting me look. Still trembling like you’re waiting for me to touch you.”

You were. God, you were.

Your breath caught when his fingers brushed your hip. Just a graze, like he was testing something. Like he knew you wouldn’t stop him.

"You think Mom would believe me or you?" he whispered, leaning in until his breath ghosted your neck. "That her perfect daughter bends over for her stepbrother when she thinks no one’s watching?"

“I’m not—”

His hand slipped between your legs — firm, smooth, sure.

You gasped. Your back arched.

“Oh? What’s this?” His tone was pure mockery. “Wet already? Guess I did teach you well.”

You slapped his chest, weak and shaking. “Michael—”

“God, I love when you say my name like that,” he growled.

His fingers slid along your folds, teasing your entrance, dragging slick across your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

Your thighs trembled. Your hands fisted in his hoodie.

“I could ruin you right here,” he whispered against your ear. “Make you cry. Make you beg. Wouldn’t even need to fuck you — you’d fall apart just like this.”

You hated how true it was.

Hated how your body betrayed you with every slick, sinful sound between your legs. Hated how his name kept catching on your tongue like a prayer — or a curse.

He dipped a finger inside. Just one. It slid in way too easy.

“You’re tight,” he muttered, voice almost reverent. “Fuck, you really are saving yourself. For what? Some boring guy from class who’d cum in his pants trying to finger you?”

You whimpered, gripping his hoodie tighter.

“Nah,” he growled. “You’re made for this. For me.”

Another finger joined the first. You gasped, biting your lip hard.

Your legs were shaking, the counter biting into your lower back, but you didn’t tell him to stop. You couldn’t.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, lips brushing your jaw. “Go ahead.”

You said nothing.

He curled his fingers just right, hitting that perfect spot that made you jerk.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “That’s what I thought.”

His thumb toyed with your clit now, rough and relentless. You felt your orgasm building fast — embarrassingly fast — and Kaiser knew. Of course he did. He always knew.

“You gonna come for your big brother, baby?” he purred. “Gonna soak my fingers and then pretend you hated it?”

“I-I’m—” you choked.

“Look at me,” he ordered, voice sharp. “Look at me when you come.”

You met his eyes — cold blue flame — and then you shattered.

It hit hard. White hot. A strangled moan left your lips before you could stop it. Your legs buckled, your body trembling violently as you came around his fingers.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, holding you up. “God, you’re so fucking hot when you break.”

He pulled his fingers free, glistening in the dim kitchen light — and then sucked them clean like it was nothing.

“Sweet little angel,” he muttered, licking his lips. “Tastes like sin.”

You leaned against the counter, ruined, chest heaving.

“You’re sick,” you whispered, ashamed. Shaking.

“I’m yours,” he corrected. “And you’re mine.”

He leaned in and kissed you — messy, filthy, claiming. His hand cupped your jaw, tongue forcing past your lips like he owned you.

When he pulled back, his mouth was slick and swollen. Smug.

“This changes nothing,” you gasped.

“Oh, baby,” he laughed darkly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “This changes everything.”

Then he walked out — calm, cocky, like he didn’t just finger his stepsister on the kitchen counter.

And you? You stayed frozen. Shaking. Dripping. Wanting more.

TL: @samm1e13 @demiitria @syleepy @chaoslibra @bontenxo @pinkymangacaps @riinniies @samthesimp1 @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @rinniebinniebay @ravenbc @kamelika @luvsymai @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @silverwings920 @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @yanderebluelockfan @valexqpt @bigclownshoes @rinniewinnie787 @satorella @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @mihyas-dieehefrau @ravenbc @greekyoghurtwithberries

A/n: thanks for the req anon (fyi, if anyone thinks i'm being petty, i literally have it written in my rules i write darkcon and stepcest. sooo...)

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #21

Tony Stark had a lot of regrets in life. Most of them involved tequila, a few bad tattoos he had paid to laser off before Pepper found out, and one especially haunted incident involving a mechanical bull, a congressman’s wife, and the phrase “I dare you.” But none—not even Ultron—could have prepared him for the living, brooding, wall-punching cryptid that was Dante “Dan” Masters.

Dan was technically human. Probably. No one was brave enough to check. He stood 6’7”, made of nothing but scarred muscle and menace, had jawlines sharp enough to commit tax fraud, and wore an expression that screamed “I bench press semi-trucks for therapy.” His hair was raven black and permanently tousled like he’d just walked away from an explosion—which, considering the fact he had actually walked away from an explosion that morning, tracked. His eyes were the kind of ice-blue that made AI go glitchy and interns cry.

Also, he was Tony’s bodyguard.

“I didn’t hire him,” Tony said the first time the Avengers saw Dan.

“You absolutely did,” Pepper replied, not even looking up from her tablet. “You drunkenly told Happy to ‘get me someone who looks like a Greek tragedy and hits like daddy issues.’”

And so Happy had found Dan. Or, more accurately, Dan had found Happy—by appearing in his passenger seat uninvited while Happy was getting a cheeseburger.

Dan never explained how he got there.

“Didn’t open the door. Didn’t break the lock. Just was there,” Happy muttered for the next three weeks. “I looked down to grab fries, looked up, boom. Bodyguard. Demon. Something. He just nodded and said, ‘I eat souls of cowards.’ Then asked for curly fries.”

Tony loved him instantly.

“Look at him,” Tony whispered one night, wine drunk and emotionally vulnerable. “He’s like my own personal murder puppy.”

Steve thought he was horrifying. Natasha called him “the Babadook with a gym membership.” Bruce kept trying to blood test him, but the last time he tried, Dan snapped the needle with his eyelid.

No one knew much about Dan, other than that he was the estranged heir to DALV.CO, the global tech giant run by Vlad Masters, a man whose Wikipedia page had to be locked due to repeated edits claiming he was “the literal Antichrist.”

“Why don’t you go back to your dad’s company?” Tony asked once, halfway through their fourth bottle of scotch, lounging on the penthouse balcony like rich, emotionally constipated divorcees. “You’d be the richest guy in the world.”

“I’d rather castrate myself with a melon baller,” Dan replied.

“Hot.”

Dan just grunted and stared moodily into the skyline, brooding like Batman’s taller, angrier cousin.

There were… signs that Dan wasn’t quite normal. Like the way he phased through walls when he thought no one was looking. Or the time someone tried to stab Tony during a charity gala and Dan grabbed the knife mid-thrust, crushed it into dust with his bare hand, and said, “You missed his heart. Want a second try?”

Tony had to excuse himself for five minutes and blame it on the shrimp cocktail.

Also: Dan never slept. Ever. Tony caught him once at 3 a.m., levitating midair in a meditative pose above the workshop floor, glowing faintly green and whispering what sounded like Latin but angrier.

“Cool trick,” Tony said, filming it for Instagram.

Dan’s eyes snapped open, glowed neon, and he growled, “Delete that or I’ll haunt your teeth.”

Tony deleted it. Reluctantly. But saved a copy in a secret drive labeled “hotboy_shit_DO_NOT_OPEN.”

The first time Dan met Thor, he sized him up for half a second and muttered, “Nice hair, Renaissance frat boy.”

Thor blinked. Then grinned. “I like this one.”

The first time Dan met Loki, he pinned him to the wall with one hand, sniffed once, and said, “You smell like lies and lavender. I don’t trust you.”

“I’m flattered,” Loki purred.

“I wasn’t complimenting you.”

Loki avoided him for two weeks. Claimed it was allergy season.

Dan did not talk. He growled. He glared. He loomed like a death omen in leather jackets. And still—still—every villain who tried to attack Tony ended up launched through a wall, disarmed in under two seconds, or knocked unconscious with a flick of the wrist.

“Are you sure he’s not a meta, or like, a ghost, or something?” Sam asked one day.

Tony blinked. “Ghost? That’s oddly specific.”

“I’m just saying. I saw him walk through a vending machine yesterday and pull out a pack of gum.”

“Maybe it was broken.”

“He reached in, grabbed the gum through the glass, and said, ‘I don’t pay for artificial happiness.’”

“…Okay, that’s just poetry.”

Dan, as it turned out, was a ghost. Sort of. Not the Casper kind. More like the “cursed anomaly spawned from grief and rage after a catastrophic supernatural meltdown in a parallel dimension” kind.

But he didn’t talk about that. Ever. Unless it was to threaten someone into shutting up. Which he did often.

Tony once asked if “Dan” was short for something other than Dante. Dan deadpanned and said, “Damnation.”

Tony laughed. Dan didn’t.

The Avengers all had bets on what Dan really was. Bruce thought he was a failed gamma experiment. Natasha swore he was an eldritch entity in disguise. Steve thought he was “just a really intense guy with trauma.” (Steve was wrong.)

The truth came out, as these things do, during an alien invasion. A random Tuesday. Buildings were exploding, civilians were screaming, and Tony—stupidly, heroically, idiotic as always—got cornered by a space hydra in a burning alley.

“Dan!” he shouted through comms, panicking. “I need backup! Big slimy bastard, eight mouths, hates sarcasm!”

The hydra lunged.

Then Dan exploded out of nowhere in a swirl of black and green fire, his body wreathed in spectral energy, eyes glowing like apocalypse lanterns. He opened his mouth—and screamed.

Not like a human scream. No. Like a banshee from the ninth ring of hell having a breakdown.

The hydra disintegrated. Vaporized into cosmic ash.

Dan turned to Tony, eyes still glowing, hair on fire, his voice doubled and demonic: “You okay?”

Tony, covered in alien guts and halfway to fainting, whispered, “Okay? Okay? I think I just came.”

Dan dropped him.

“Deserved.”

From then on, everything was chaos.

SHIELD tried to recruit him. He burned their files.

HYDRA tried to kidnap him. They didn’t survive the attempt.

Someone from a ghost-hunting organization named G.I.W. showed up once, claiming he was a danger to the world. Dan stared them down and said, “I’ve killed gods for fun. You think I’m scared of a man in khakis?”

They ran screaming.

Tony, of course, was obsessed.

“You’re my new favorite thing,” he declared one night, flopping dramatically onto the couch while Dan watched reruns of Iron Chef in silence. “Like, my favorite. Sorry, Pepper.”

“Don’t drag me into your kinks,” Pepper replied from the hallway.

Dan never officially moved in. But his things started appearing—a toothbrush here, a punching bag in the gym, a fridge filled with nothing but protein shakes and hot sauce. Eventually, Tony just gave him a keycard.

And maybe a second suit in case he ever wanted to try flying. Dan declined. He could already fly. Casually. Like it was no big deal.

Also: he could turn invisible. Tony found this out when he walked into his lab naked at 2 a.m. and muttered, “If there’s anyone here, speak now or forever hold your—”

“I’m here.”

Tony screamed. Dan was perched on the ceiling.

“Why are you like this?!”

“Because I hate peace.”

Eventually, the world found out. A viral video. A fight gone wrong. Dan going full phantom mode on live TV and decapitating an alien with a manhole cover.

Headlines exploded.

“Heir to DALV.CO Is a Literal Ghost.”

“Tony Stark’s Bodyguard Is an Interdimensional Specter, and Honestly, Same.”

“Dante Masters: Hot, Haunted, and Horrifying.”

Vlad Masters showed up. Tried to reclaim Dan.

Dan answered the door shirtless, covered in blood, holding a spatula. “I’m cooking pancakes. Leave before I use you as syrup.”

Tony peeked from behind him. “He means it.”

Dan shut the door in Vlad’s face.

“I hate that man,” he muttered.

Tony smiled dreamily. “I love you.”

“…Stop.”

“Nope. Too late. Suffering together forever.”

Dan groaned. But he didn’t leave.

He never did.

[juleswritesstuff]

One love, two mouths

You didn't necessarily need magic to turn fantasies into reality. Sometimes, a broken shower worked just as efficiently.

jegulus x reader

warnings: smut

Hi! So, this is technically part 2 of this request, but it can be read as a standalone, too <3

The hands on your hips guided your movements, bringing your body to collide with his in a dance of uncoordinated limbs, his grip so deliciously tight it made you hum in pleasure.

The changing room was empty, players and students of all houses already scattered through the castle to celebrate after the last match of the season. A thin fog still lingered in the air from the showers running not even half an hour before, steam clinging to the walls in rivulets of water slowly rolling down the surface. 

The same tantalizing drops cascading down your boyfriend’s body, too. You wanted to capture every single one of them with your tongue, trace the hard planes of James' chest, savor the heat of his skin.

His lips chased yours eagerly, urgently, like he starved for them and the way they molded perfectly against his.

“You'll get all wet, baby” he breathed between hungry kisses and playful bites. A sort of warning he himself didn’t seem to care too much for. Not with the way he kept holding your body so close to his, so tight, that not even a breath of hair could come in between.

The beads of water still clinging to his torso soaked your shirt, making it stick uncomfortably to your burning skin.

But you guessed it was a deserved little punishment for not being able to wait for him to even dry himself after his shower before jumping his bones. 

Who could blame you ? James looked a little too good with only that towel around his hips.

Towel that, miraculously and unfortunately, was still holding strong.

Maybe it was for the best. You didn’t want things to end too soon. 

Not before everything actually started, at least.

“That’s hardly news” you whispered playfully, licking into his mouth, your tongues seeking each other’s.

Your hands reached for his still damp hair, carding through the chocolate locks fervently, tasting the sound of his low moans right on your lips.

The muscles of his arms flexed under your touch as the hold on your hips tightened imperceptibly.

“I meant your clothes” he purred with an amused chuckle, lips continuing their torturing journey on your skin, leaving a trail of heated, open-mouthed kisses down your sensitive neck, feeling your heartbeat against his tongue.

“Don’t care,” you exhaled with a smirk he couldn’t see but could definitely hear by the way he smiled on your skin “they’re coming off anyway” 

Or you sure hoped so. 

His hands leaving your lower back to travel up and unbutton your, now soaked and almost see through, shirt with skilled and impatient fingers definitely kept your hopes up.

“Will this be our new victory celebration ? Fucking in the showers ?” 

By the amused tone of his voice, he didn’t seem to mind one bit.

Gryffindor had won the infamous match James had lost nights of sleep for, thinking of strategies to defeat the, apparently unbeatable, Slytherin team and talking about a certain marvelous seeker non-stop.

The same seeker who seemed to be kind of out of it during the whole game, in your humble opinion. 

You were no Quidditch expert, but you were a Regulus one for sure.

You knew something was going on, still you couldn’t put your finger on it, really. 

Maybe he simply got a bit distracted by the sun getting in his eyes ?

Maybe it shined a little too brightly to be ignored ?

And maybe that sun had a name and a last name, too ? 

Who knew ?

Definitely not you. Right ?

Your mouth curved into a grin.

“Win again and you'll find out”

The digits masterfully working on the wet fabric stopped their ministrations, leaving your blouse half open.

His eyes trailed on the exposed skin of your cleavage, the lacy bra that hugged your curves peeking through the now open cloth.

The quiet ‘fuck’ groaned under his breath had no business turning you on the way it did. But how could it not when he looked at you like you were some sort of ethereal Goddess put on earth for him to worship ?

His mouth turned even more eager, hungrier. Fierce kisses decorated your skin, teasing bites complemented it with delicate shades of crimson soothed by the gentle caress of his tongue.

He traveled down, tracing your shoulder, your collarbone, your sternum, almost reaching the tender flesh of your breasts.

Almost.

Because the sound of a throat clearing echoed through the empty changing room like the rumble of thunder announcing a storm on a summer day.

The same storm that colored his eyes.

James nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice shattering the little bubble of intimacy you and him had gotten lost in, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights.

He slowly pulled away from your skin, glossy gaze focused on the source of that sound.

There, in the middle of the room, eyes settled on the mess of intertwined limbs you and your boyfriend were not even a moment ago, stood Regulus.

The corners of your mouth curled up the slightest bit.

“Ehm- I fear this is not the Slytherin changing room” James' words sounded uncertain, cautious. Almost afraid that the brooding angel that had appeared so suddenly would bite him if he said the wrong thing in the wrong way.

And he was absolutely right to be.

Regulus did bite. Metaphorically and physically speaking.

Regulus’ eyes trailed over your flushed cheeks, your neck scattered in hickeys, your soaked and half open blouse almost fully showcasing your chest and letting your bra peek through the fabric.

“I noticed,” he said, silver gaze shifting to roam over your boyfriend’s mouth-watering body, running all over James’ sun-kissed skin and the muscles flexing underneath it, the hard lines of his abs, the alluring way his v-line led down and down until it disappeared under that damn towel “These outrageous colors are hard to miss”

Unfortunately for him, the sharp sarcasm dripping from his tone did nothing to conceal the clear interest written in his eyes.

You had the feeling he wasn't talking about the colors at all.

And they surely didn’t seem so hideous if the way he subconsciously wet his lips at the sight in front of him was of any indication.

You wondered how much he saw, how long he had taken in the scene in front of him before deciding he had enough.

“What brings you here ?” James’ tone wasn't accusing, just curious. Careful. 

The way he gulped soundly at the view of Regulus’ tongue peeking through his parted lips didn’t go unnoticed.

“Except for the questionable decor, of course” you added, teasing. A daring glint shining in your eyes.

Regulus didn’t answer. Not even a word. 

He just kept observing, gaze shifting between you and James as the silver in his eyes melted, the blackness of his pupil almost erasing it completely.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as his eyes set on you at last.

“Our showers stopped working” he stated, looking at you attentively, calculating. Like, somehow, he knew.

You wouldn’t have been surprised if he did. 

It was Regulus Black you were talking about after all.

One of the brightest students in Hogwarts, star player of the Slytherin Quidditch team, the most sharp-minded person you had ever met.

And your ex-boyfriend who knew every corner of the maze your mind was.

No one fooled Regulus Black. Not even you.

“They just…broke ?” the Slytherin’s eyes peeled from your figure to focus on James and his slightly puzzled frown. Like he couldn’t really think it was possible.

“Oh, no. They gave me a warning before they did. Like every inanimate, non-incantated object would do” Regulus deadpanned, eyes narrowed and tone tinged with his trademark bite.

James, to his credit, didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by it. If anything, he looked amused, every trace of confusion and tentativeness disappearing from his face to make space for an intrigued, mischievous smile. 

“Showers speak ?” he asked in mock bewilderment, “Merlin, I bet they talk real shit about me and my ear-splitting singing, then” his head tilted to the side in that cocky but infuriatingly charming manner of his, looking at Regulus with a spark of challenge.

You shook your head at your boyfriend’s words, eyes rolling in amusement as the corners of your mouth pulled into a grin.

James was playing with fire, and he knew that. 

He knew that perfectly well.

Regulus' gaze narrowed, piercing and intense.

“Are you ever serious ?” a sheer annoyance coated his tone.

James’ eyes lit up.

“No,” he smirked, troublemaker grin on full display “I’m always James”

You almost choked on the chuckle you had to suppress. Not at the joke per se, but at the shameless audacity with which he had made it. 

You knew your boyfriend was a little reckless sometimes, his lack of self-preservation wasn't well-known among his Gryffindor peers for nothing, but you had never seen him come so close to the flames, risking being burned to the bone.

The fire in question being none other than Regulus Black.

“You think you’re funny” he stated utterly unimpressed, a perfectly arched brow cocked up.

“Sometimes” your boyfriend smiled smugly.

A huff escaped the Slytherin’s mouth, head shaking from side to side in disbelief.

When he stopped it was to look directly at you.

“How do you put up with him ?” he asked, aloof and direct as always.

James didn’t seem fazed by the harsh straightforwardness of Regulus’ question, the self-satisfied smile on his lips only growing. 

He was used to the Slytherin being borderline mean to him, and he didn’t seem to mind it one bit. You thought he liked that, even.

He was into feisty people, it appeared.

A similar grin tugged at the corners of your lips.

That was your chance.

It was now or never.

“How about I show you ?”

Both their expressions froze for a second.

Two pairs of eyes set on you as the, almost imperceptible, sound of buttons being freed from their loops followed your words. Your hands reached for your shirt, finishing what James had started.

A shiver ran down your spine as the half-soaked fabric caressed your heated skin, sliding off of your shoulders until it met the floor with a soft rustle.

“If you want,”

You held their gazes, eyes shifting from, equally wide and dumbfounded, cold steel to rich hazel back and forth while your fingers trailed on the hem of your skirt. Your hands worked unhurriedly, rolling the zipper down, letting the fabric slide off your hips as you swayed them just enough to help the cloth glide down your thighs, until it fell on the dark hardwood, joining your already forgotten blouse. 

“If you let me”

The room was still filled with sheer steam, clinging to your almost fully exposed body and making your skin glisten under the warm light of the setting sun seeping through the high windows. However, that wasn’t the reason for the increasing heat spreading through every fiber of your being.

Their eyes trailed on your figure, on the way the lace of the very special set you had chosen to wear under your clothes hugged your curves just right, enhancing your silhouette and fitting you like a glove.

There was a, not so veiled, thrill in James’ stunned stare as he drank you in, his mouth agape like he had never seen you like that. Like you weren't the one chanting his name like a prayer almost every night.

Regulus’ gaze darkened with a scorching intensity, not a glimmer of gray in sight as he took you in completely, eyes traveling on that body he had one worshiped like it was a temple.

He observed you, analyzing your tone, your words, the way your eyes kept bouncing between him and James.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing” his voice came out low, hoarse.

One of your brows quirked up.

“What game ?” there was no teasing in your tone, no trace of amusement “I was merely extending an offer”

You weren’t blind, nor stupid. You had eyes and they worked well. Some might say a bit too well. 

You observed, you watched carefully, read the room with a quick glance. It was your thing, noticing things others didn’t.

In all honesty, your discovery had little to do with your observation skills.

It was the shivers along your spine, the hair at the base of your neck standing up, the way every single nerve of your body responded to that magnetic pull. Every time their gazes locked the earth shifted on its axes and gravity wasn’t the reason your feet were on the ground anymore. It was the weight of those eyes, the desire dripping from them. 

Desire for one another. 

Desire for you. 

Their eyes met, slowly, tentatively, like they had done so many times before, that same tsunami of emotions raging in them like a storm waiting to be freed.

The room charged with a buzzing tension, and you swore you could feel it. That spark igniting, those flames burning every doubt to ashes.

Their gazes returned to you, tension becoming electric.

For a moment, nothing happened. Not a sound, not a word.

Then-

The hide covering the soles of his shoes produced a soft, dull sound on the hardwood floor as Regulus suddenly took a step forward, thick leather gloves meeting the ground with a quiet thud.

Your eyes zeroed on that movement, a sudden rush of adrenaline running through your veins.

Another step, and his arm pads were tossed aside, not a single second look spared at them.

Your boyfriend’s gaze matched yours, following every single motion of Regulus’ body.

One more stride, and his shin pads joined the rest of the mess, completely forgotten.

Until he stood directly in front of you and James.

“Do it, then”

A beat of silence passed.

“Show me”

He started with the emerald cape hugging his shoulders, unlacing the thin leather strings, and letting it slip off smoothly until cascaded to the floor in a velvety whisper.

Slender fingers grabbed the hem of his jersey, lifting it up slowly, excruciatingly so, revealing inch after inch of alabaster skin.

Lean, defined muscles rippled underneath his flesh, flexing at every hint of movement, every shift of his body, creating an alluring path that led further and further down.

He unclasped his belt without hesitation, tossing it aside unceremoniously before he went to work on his pants, unbuttoning them with little effort, digits fiddling with the zipper before rolling it down.

In a matter of seconds, he got rid of his shoes, slithered the fabric off his toned legs exposing the milky skin of his thighs, and disregarded them on the floor.

His gaze never faltered. Not even one bit.

Your brain short-circuited at the sight presented in front of you, mouth dry and heart about to jump out of your chest.

“Fucking hell”

Those two strangled words coming out from James' mouth perfectly reflected every thought swirling through your head in that precise moment.

Fucking hell, indeed. 

Because Regulus was practically naked, with that half smirk curving his lips and a firestorm rampaging in his eyes.

You turned to your boyfriend, and your knees almost gave out. 

The eagerness in his eyes, the hunger, the need simmering in them as he drank in the image of you and Regulus, together and bare, before him almost knocked the breath off your lungs.

You looked at him, holding his burning gaze, waiting. A clear question etched in your eyes.

And you ? Would you let me ?

The answer seemed obvious seeing the way he couldn’t take his eyes off of either you or Regulus. 

It was written all over him, the way he craved you, the way he craved both of you.

James wore his heart on his sleeve, it wasn’t hard to figure out what kind of thoughts were flooding his mind.

His response should’ve been obvious to you, crystal clear.

“Isn’t he beautiful ?”

“Y/n…”

“Come on, It's just an innocent question”

“Is it ?” 

"Absolutely”

“Liar”

“Answer me, Jamie. Isn't Regulus gorgeous ?”

“Fuck, fuck- yes. Yes, he is. He is- holy shit. And you are, too. You are. You both are. And I really need you right now or I'll literally combust on the spot”

He had told you not even a week before between low moans, breathy whimpers and your body moving on top of him making him lose every ounce of control. 

But you needed him to say it again. Something, anything, to make sure that conversation wasn’t just another product of your fantasies.

Except that James’ mouth didn’t move. Not until it was on you.

That mere, insignificant step between your bodies turned into dust the moment your lips collided.

It was urgent, desperate, the way he sucked on your lips, on your tongue, his hands gripping your hips so deliciously tight you knew they would leave a mark imprinted on your skin.

And you couldn’t wait for it. You wanted it. 

You wanted more. 

You wanted everything.

“I’m at your mercy” he uttered helplessly, yielding “Whatever you want, however you want it. It’s yours”

“James-”

“It’s yours”

It took you a second to understand, to fully grasp the meaning of his words, but once you did-

Oh, the thrill it sent down your spine.

Yours.

As is in you and Regulus.

Whatever you and Regulus wanted. However you and Regulus wanted it.

The blood running through your veins turned into lava, liquid heat simmering beneath your flesh.

“You mean that ?” Regulus’ voice came out low and more wavering than you had ever heard it, James’ words affecting him just as much as they had affected you. You could hear the control slipping away from him, vanishing little by little like the space between your bodies.

He was close.

They were close.

You were all a mere whisper apart from each other and it was intoxicating how you could feel the heat radiating from their skin, how their hands itched to touch, to feel, how the color in their eyes vanished with every second that passed, swallowed by that need that was raging inside each one of you. 

James’ eyes shifted to your left, settling on Regulus, looking at him breathlessly, speechless, admiring the work of art before him.

Messy curls, glossy eyes, red lips, smooth skin. 

He was a vision.

“Potter” it was bewitching the way that single word rolled off Regulus’ tongue, so firm and yet so soft, as he took a small step forward, lowering his voice to a whisper “I asked if you mean that”

And your boyfriend, who looked like he was about to get on his knees and worship the ground you and Regulus walked on, just looked at him with earnest, lidded eyes.

“I do” he choked out breathlessly “I really fucking do”

Then it happened.

The moment Regulus’ lips met James,’ everything stopped.

For three seconds. 

Three seconds in which the concept of time and space shattered to pieces.

Three seconds that lasted a blink of an eye and a century altogether.

Three seconds for James’ brain to fully understand what was happening, to realize that it was actually happening.

Three seconds and then the world set on fire.

James dived in the kiss like a man starved and Earth started spinning again, faster than it ever did before.

Every cell, every nerve and muscle, every single inch of your being came to life at the image unfolding in front of you.

James latched onto Regulus’ mouth like it was his first meal after weeks of starvation. Like he had been dying to feel that taste on his tongue and was slowly getting consumed by how addictive it was.

Regulus’ hand slipped to the back of James’ neck, drawing him even closer, lips moving on his just as relentlessly, just as famished, pure, and unfiltered need etched in the way he chased after the Gryffindor like he was the oxygen missing in his lungs.

Their tongues brushed, teasing and greedy, mouths swallowing every sound, every moan.

But, as Regulus grazed James’ bottom lip lewdly, feeling the plump and swollen flesh between his teeth while your boyfriend became putty in his hands, you couldn’t help but think that the one who lacked air to breathe was you.

You felt dizzy, high like you were on the most powerful of drugs. 

And, maybe, you even were. Because there was no other explanation for the sudden euphoria taking over your body like a tidal wave, engulfing you in a sea of need, and taking you deeper and deeper until you couldn’t breathe anymore.

You were drowning, and you couldn’t have cared less. The current taking you away was too strong, too compelling for you to resist it.

So, you didn’t.

You had set that storm in motion, after all.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped around you, bringing you back to reality and taking over every other thought running through your brain. 

A shiver ran down your spine and spread all over your body at the gentle yet urgent pressure of a strong hand on your lower back, urging you forward.

The two bodies in front of you disentangled from their embrace of limbs and tongues but never disconnected.

James’ hand was still on Regulus’ hip, sun-kissed fingers against pearly skin. His other arm was on your back, guiding you forward until you were surrounded by heat and wandering hands. Right in between them.

“Enjoying the show ?” Regulus’ breath fanned over the shell of your ear, hot and uneven, smirk concealed from your eyes but unmistakably there. His chest pressed against your back, the lean outline of his abs kissing your skin, molding to your silhouette.

And you would’ve loved to answer, let him know everything that was going through your mind in that precise moment, had it not been for another pair of sinful lips preventing you from doing exactly that.

James' mouth was hungry, relentless as it chased yours, kissing you so intensely you felt his need to your core.

Your bodies were glued, chest to chest, the material of your bra thin enough to make you feel his scorching skin right through it.

Behind you, Regulus’ mouth hovered over your neck, so dangerously close to that sweet spot right below your ear that you were struggling to keep the pathetic moan threatening to leave your throat to yourself.

His lips finally brushed your skin, teeth biting gently, teasing, soothing the delicious sting with his tongue only to start all over again. 

All the fight left your body at once.

Your mouth parted, a cry of pleasure rolling out.

And James, who you felt smirk like he had hit the jackpot himself, took full advantage of that. His tongue dipped between your lips, licking and savoring every inch of your mouth as if he didn't already know it by heart, swallowing every little delighted sound escaping your throat and going even deeper.

You were intoxicated, lost in the feeling of those two bodies that had hunted your fantasies now flushed against yours in flesh, and blood.

“It’s rude not to answer, love” your boyfriend’s voice was breathless, hoarse as he pulled away just long enough to let you breathe. That same smirk plastered onto his kiss-bruised lips.

An airless scoff left your lungs at the audacity of that statement.

“Says the one shutting me up” your retort was weak, winded, yet laced with sheer snark.

The playful half-smile he gave you in return made your knees weak. 

Or, maybe, it was Regulus and his mouth still busy worshiping your neck.

Or the fact that you felt their hands all over your body. Your arms, your waist, hips, thighs. Everyfuckingwhere.

A familiar warmth pooled at the pit of your stomach, a gentle heat that begged to be fueled.

You couldn’t wait anymore.

“James” you exhaled, trying to ground yourself, to not lose focus.

“Yes, love ?” his lips had slid to the other side of your neck, mirroring Regulus in his mission to make you fall apart.

But you had something else in mind.

“The, fuck-” you gasped, Regulus’ hand wandering dangerously close to where you ached the most “-the bench”

You didn’t have to repeat it twice. 

Your boyfriend’s mouth traveled back up swiftly, leaving small, feather-light kisses along your skin until he reached your lips, tasting them briefly once again.

There was no trace of questioning in his eyes, not even a speck of uncertainty. 

His words echoed through your head like a mantra as his body untangled from yours, albeit a bit reluctantly if the lingering touch of his hands on your hips was of any indication, to reach the wooden bench a few steps behind you.

'Whatever you want, however you want it. It’s yours'.

He had said it, and he had meant it. No questions asked.

If Regulus had said something instead, you had no doubt he would have complied just as easily.

Which brought you back to said boy and his unholy mouth teasing that sweet spot on your neck.

You turned around in his embrace, facing him, his arms still circling your figure, caressing your heated skin before they ultimately settled on your hips.

After so much time, you were standing in front of him once again, face to face and barely clothed, like you had done so many times before.

Before James. Before all of that.

It took him less than a second to capture your mouth with his.

The groan echoing in the room went directly to your core.

You weren’t even sure where it had come from.

Was it Regulus ? 

Was it James ? 

It could’ve very well been you, for all you knew.

It didn’t matter.

Not when Regulus’ tongue slipped past your lips, licking into your mouth like not even a day had passed from the last time.

“I missed you” his breath mingled with yours, hot and uneven, as he spoke those words right on you.

A faint, mischievous smirk curved your mouth.

“Yet, you jumped my boyfriend’s bones first chance you got instead” you bit his bottom lip playfully, teasing. Just like the hint in your voice.

Regulus’ grip on your waist tightened imperceptibly, bringing your body fully on his, letting his hands wander.

They slid beneath the hem of your panties, his palms gently smoothing over the supple flesh of your ass, pulling you forward.

“I have your taste branded on my tongue, Y/n” he breathed, looking you in the eyes with a heat that could’ve turned the Forbidden Forest to ashes in seconds “Can you blame me for wanting to try this new one I’ve been craving first ?”

Could you ?

It was James Potter you were talking about, after all. Gryffindor's Golden Boy, the sweetheart, the boy with a smile more blinding than the sun and the body of a God.

You couldn't have blamed Regulus even if you had been actually serious about your little provocation.

Who better than you could’ve understood him ?

Another low grunt reached your ears. And, this time, you were sure it couldn't have come from either you or Regulus.

No, that was James.

James who sat on the bench at the center of the changing room, just a few feet away from you. 

James, whose legs were spread, defined muscles flexing under smooth skin. 

James, whose towel was long forgotten on the floor. 

James who was lazily stroking himself at the sight of you and Regulus together.

Head thrown back enough to expose the blooming red marks on his neck, lustful lidded eyes looking at you through thick lashes, muscles shifting hypnotizingly at every lazy glide of his hand on his half-hard cock.

That view almost brought you to your knees. Literally.

But if the loud gulp bobbing Regulus’ Adam’s apple up and down was of any indication, you weren’t the only one to have such thoughts.

His eyes trailed over your boyfriend’s each and every move. Greedy, hungry.

A dark chuckle left his throat.

“I think I understand you now” his warm breath fanned over the shell of your ear, his lips taunting the skin with every word whispered.

Goosebumps rose all over your body.

“And what is that you understand exactly, mmh ?” your tone was as teasing as his mouth on you as you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from the scene unfolding in front of you.

James groaned again, guttural, and low as the hand bringing him pleasure sped up just enough to grant him some sweet relief.

“As if you don’t already know” Regulus’ voice was breathy, heavy, the light smirk around his words going straight between your thighs to add fuel to the already raging fire simmering in your veins, his gaze mirroring yours. His words were followed by skillful fingers, traveling up your torso, dancing on your skin, reaching the thin, lacy straps of your bra, and sliding them off your shoulders reverentially, placing a kiss right on that now naked spot.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t” you taunted, your head turning to catch the ravenous glint in those mesmerizing pools of silver.

“Maybe-” your tongue darted out, licking over his lips tantalizingly “-I just want to hear you say it”

The corner of his mouth tilted upward slightly, eyes burning into yours.

“You play dirty, darling” he whispered, his left hand tracing your back, sending shivers down your spine as his practiced fingers unhooked the clasps of your bra in a swift, precise move.

You heard James’ moan, fighting a lost battle as he tried to suppress a curse under his breath.

The humid air hit your bare chest, and you bit your lips to not let the most pathetic whine out.

“I told you, this is not a game” you managed to utter, head falling back, resting on Regulus’ shoulder but inclined enough to still witness James trying not to slowly lose every ounce of control, as he explored your almost naked body like he was studying a map, imprinting it in his brain like he hadn’t already uncovered every inch of it with his hands. Or his tongue.

“What do you want me to say, then ? That he is charming ?” he whispered right on your neck, his body now flushed against yours once again-

“That he is funny ?”

His mouth rested on your pulse point, feeling the blood pumping through your veins like a tsunami, tasting the beat of your heart on his tongue, his teeth grazing your skin sensually-

“That he is the hottest guy I've ever laid eyes on ?”

His lean yet strong muscles surrounded you, kissing your back, circling your silhouette in the filthiest of embraces, bringing you impossibly closer, hands traveling down and down-

“That him sitting there, stroking his cock like that, gets me like this ?”

His erection pressed against the plump flesh of your ass, hard as a rock, letting you feel all of him through the thin fabric of his underwear as his hand slid beneath the hem of your panties-

“That I want to taste him while I worship your sweet cunt, his cum dripping from you as you beg for more ? As you beg for both of us ?”

His slender fingers glided over the tender skin of your folds, collecting your arousal, spreading it all over you, teasing you as he caressed that sweet spot that had you see stars. 

Your head was in the clouds, hazy. You felt drunk, like you had gobbled down an entire liquor store all on your own. Regulus’ words poured gasoline on the already tempestuous fire taking over your body.

Yet, you couldn't help but smile like you had just won the highest prize in that unfair lottery called ‘life’, ecstasy soaking through every nerve, every cell of your body.

Because, right in that moment, it felt like you really fucking did.

And it was better than anything your dirty little brain could’ve ever come up with.

A breathless chuckle escaped your lips, a dark, taunting smile settling on them as your eyes turned as sharp as a cat’s, as inviting as the most forbidden of desires.

“If you wanted a taste, Reggie, you could’ve just said so”

Peeling yourself from his frame, your feet moved.

Regulus followed right behind, his hands unable to leave the soft curve of your waist as you walked that mere meter that separated you from James and his filthy little noises.

A few steps and you were in front of him, a half-smirk tugging at your lips.

“Impatient as always” you teased him, words as smooth as silk albeit the clear breathlessness in your voice “Couldn’t even wait, mmh ?”

James’ head tilted up, looking at you through that lascivious veil glazing his gaze as his mouth brushed the soft flesh of your stomach.

Your hands found place in his hair almost automatically, bringing him unconsciously closer.

“You think I would’ve managed to ?” he asked raggedly, leaving a kiss right above your navel, beginning the sweetest of journeys “With you two in front of me like that ?” he traveled down, leaving a trail of open-mouthed pecks on your heated skin.

He stopped at the hem of your panties, taking the flimsy fabric between his teeth before letting it go with a gentle ‘snap’ on your skin, the sting barely there but still able to elicit a hiss through your teeth.

His mouth dropped even lower, hovering on your aching core.

“You have no idea of the power you have on me, then” the soft kiss he left on your clothed clit snatched a whimper out of you.

James’ dark gaze fell on the boy by your side, a hand on his hip guiding him forward gently.

James’ lips worshiped Regulus’ body with the same reverence they had venerated yours, running over his lean abdomen, tongue tracing every line of his abs, biting his hipbone temptingly. 

“You’re ah-” a throaty groan cut off the Slytherin’s words “-a fucking tease, Potter”

Your boyfriend grinned against smooth, untainted skin, dropping lower and lower until the only thing remaining between his plump lips and Regulus’ clothed, rock-hard erection was less than a breath of air.

“Oh ? Am I ?”

Regulus didn’t answer.

Not because he didn’t want to --the way his lips parted like he was fully ready to bite back being enough evidence of that– but because he couldn’t.

Not with James’ tongue peeking out, licking a wet stripe along his underwear, tracing the outline of his shaft like he wanted to memorize every inch of it by heart, engrave it in his mind forever.

Regulus gasped, followed by a strangled moan.

James’ fingers hooked onto the elastic of his underwear and every word died in his throat. 

The sound of fabric hitting the floor shouldn’t have made you feel that kind of adrenaline, but it did, nonetheless. Your heartbeat was so fast, hammering so strong that you could feel it everywhere.

Your throat, your ears, between your thighs; your whole body was trembling with desire.

Your head was spinning, blood flowing in your veins so hot it burned, legs clenching together unconsciously, seeking even the faintest of reliefs at the sight gracing your eyes. A sight which your fantasies couldn’t have even come close to.

Because Regulus was naked, completely bare before you and James, his delicately sculpted body on full display. And he was painfully hard.

James swallowed, eyes blown wide and trailing on the expanse of Regulus’ alabaster skin, admiring him like he was a piece of art.

He was entranced, mesmerized, so lost into that sight that his words failed him.

He glanced at you, that same enchanted expression etched onto his features.

An incredulous half-chuckle escaped his lips, lifting the corner of his mouth in a disbelieved smile.

“Holy shit-”

It came out as nothing more than a whisper, his gaze fixated on the silhouettes in front of him like he wanted to take in every inch of skin and brand it in his brain for the rest of his life. 

“Everything alright ?”

Your voice echoed through the room, the amused spark around your words surely not going unnoticed.

“Absolutely nothing could be wrong right now, trust me” your boyfriend said with a sincere smile and that speck of euphoria still making his eyes shine under the warm light as they glanced back and forth between you and Regulus “Just trying to figure out if this is a dream, a very realistic hallucination from the deepest part of my mind or I’m truly awake. Which I’m really praying I am”

You couldn’t help but grin at his statement. You felt the exact same way.

“You fantasize about this often, Potter ?” came Regulus' voice, laced with an amusement that caressed your skin with its velvety timbre.

One of his hands rose to comb through James’ unruly locks.

Visible goosebumps raised on James’ sun-kissed skin, Regulus’ sultry voice visibly affecting him as much as it affected you.

The ecstatic curve on your boyfriend’s face didn’t falter for a second. The spark in his eyes lit up even more, burning brighter than the sun and, simultaneously, darkening his gaze like black clouds concealed the sky before the most destructive of storms.

What a remarkable sight. 

All that hunger, all that need, enclosed in a pair of mesmerizing hazel eyes. 

“I think you already know the answer to that” 

Regulus’ eyebrow arched slightly in surprise, his gaze narrowing, studying the boy in front of him, analyzing the provocative hint in his deep voice, the purposefully challenging meaning he had given to his words.

“Do you ?” you asked, gaze focusing on molten silver and black hair.

Two pairs of eyes settled on you, following your every movement, every slight shift of muscles beneath silken skin as you slowly slid your panties down, letting them glide off your legs, until they dropped on the floor, joining the rest of the clothes scattered all over the hardwood surface.

“You do. Don’t you, Regulus ?”

You knew he did. You knew him. 

All the things he tried to conceal from others, all the things he didn’t say with his mouth he spoke them through those damn eyes. And, sometimes, they were louder than words could ever be.

“Fuck-” 

That sole, breathy word coming out of their mouth, spoken in unison, would’ve almost made you crack a smile had it been any other day, any other time.

But at that moment, with their eyes dripping with pure need, showcasing every shade of desire they felt as they took in every single inch of your figure, of the body they had made their mission to adore and cherish and worship, nothing felt amusing.

“Jamie” you called, gaze glued to those pools of silver.

Pure electricity filled the room, charging the atmosphere with a tension so high you felt it sizzle in the air.

A single hum of acknowledgement let you know that he had heard you.

“Come here. Let Regulus have a seat”

He complied without hesitation, leaving the bench and taking his place next to you, hands almost automatically finding home on your waist.

Regulus’ eyes never left your figure, heavy with a plethora of feelings you had never quite seen on his face, as he too, followed your implicit request.

He sat in front of you in all its glory, legs spread, and muscles taut.

Your hand went to gently rest under his chin, guiding his head up until his lidded eyes met yours, your thumb caressing the plump flesh of his kissed-bruised lips.

“Tell me” your voice sounded as sweet as honey to your own ears “What are your fantasies Regulus ?”

The haziness in his eyes almost knocked the air out of your lungs, his lips puckering the faintest bit to leave the gentlest, most enticing feathery kiss on the finger still lingering on the plump, swollen flesh of his lip before curling up in a sweet yet sultry smile.

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest at the near reverent gesture, at the way his glossy gaze dripped with eagerness. 

You were dangerously close to losing yourself in those pits of need, had it not been for the loud gulp coming from right next to you. 

You turned your head to meet James’ gaze.

Except that you weren’t able to.

You couldn’t.

Because it was stuck on Regulus’ mouth and the way it molded against your digit. It zeroed on that simple motion, taking it in like it was the most enthralling sight in the entire world. 

A small, knowing grin made its way on your face as the realization hit you.

A discovery that didn’t get lost on Regulus either if the sensation of his lips widening in a mischievous grin right against the soft pad of your thumb was anything to go by. 

Your eyes were fixated on James, so focused on the hypnotized look on his face as his never left Regulus’ lips, on the way his pupils dilated so much the color vanished completely, on the uneven rise and fall of his chest, that you missed the Slytherin’s lips parting, his tongue peeking out, teasing the pad of your finger, biting it playfully before taking it in his mouth, engulfing it in its heat.

Your head turned to him so fast, your neck almost snapped.

You found him grinning. 

Regulus was grinning.

Not that you could make it out clearly with the way his lips wrapped around your thumb like he was sucking on the tastiest goddamn lollipop ever. His eyes, however --they showed it, they screamed it. How proud, how pleased he was with himself to have not only you, but your boyfriend too, wrapped around his finger with just that dirty little move.

Words failed you.

The air got stuck in your throat.

He looked unreal.

“How about I show you” he said, freeing your digit from the warm embrace of his mouth, his voice so hoarse and compelling it went straight between your legs.

Red-hot heat simmered in his glazed eyes, more scorching than hell itself.

You didn’t have time to even register Regulus’ words fully, your mind too lost, too clouded by the unholy image in front of you to focus on the way his hands reached for your legs, hooking behind your knees, manhandling you like you were deadweight. As he pleased.

Until you were almost sat, nearly straddling him, his length sliding over your naked, drenched heat.

The moan that left you felt downright pathetic to your own ears, but not to the two boys next to you apparently. Not with the way James’ hardness twitched in interest as a strangled groan reverberated in his throat. Not with the way Regulus’ grip reflexively tightened around you, inching you closer, his leaking head pressing on your clit.

The delicious friction made you cry in ecstasy, jolts of pleasure traveling through your whole body.

A euphoric smirk grew on your lips.

“Is this the shape your dreams take, Reggie ?” you whispered, so close to him your warm, ragged breath fanned on his skin “Me riding your cock ? Having my boyfriend watch as you take me apart ? Wishing it was his cock in your mouth ?”

The sound of a choked-out hiss filled the room. 

And it didn’t come from the boy beneath you.

The grin on Regulus’ face turned dangerous, dark.

“Sit on it, and you’ll find out”

The hint of challenge coating his tone sent pure adrenaline running through your veins.

You couldn’t help the airless chuckle that left your mouth.

If James was a tease, Regulus was a full-on menace.

But luckily, he was a menace you knew how to handle perfectly well.

“Want to fill me up so bad, mmh ?” you murmured, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and pulling lightly, just enough for it to sting.

Licking at the seam of his lips, you rested your arm around his neck, granting you enough of a balance. Meanwhile, your other hand started wandering. Tracing his jaw, his shoulders, the lean yet sculpted planes of his chest, reaching further and further down.

Until it wrapped around him, stiff and hot against your palm, tongue rolling against his in time with your practiced strokes.

The groan that came from his throat felt like enough of an answer.

So, you lowered your body slowly, steadily, angling his tip with your entrance before sinking onto his length like you had been born to.

A fairly easy task, seeing that you were wetter than you had ever been in your entire life.

Every inch of him breaching your velvety walls, every little vein scattered on the hard, smooth surface of his shaft; you felt it.

You felt it all.

Your hips collided, your thighs wrapping around him as he sheathed himself inside of you fully, burying himself so deep his head kissed your cervix, filling you to the brim.

All the oxygen got knocked out of your lungs, the stretch so good your senses go into hyperdrive.

“Shit- Y/n-” a moan reverberated in his chest as your walls clenched, contracting around him as you got used to the, once, familiar and, more than welcome, intrusion.

There was a voice in your head, telling you to move your hips, ride him until you were nothing but a babbling mess on top of him, tears streaming down your face from pure delight.

But you didn’t. You didn’t give in to that extremely tempting thought, no.

You just sat there, impaling yourself on your ex-boyfriend’s dick, letting his shape mold your insides.

“Fuck- You’re tight” Regulus rasped, the twitch of him inside of you nearly making you lose it.

But, once again, you didn’t seem to be alone in that sentiment.

Breathy, barely audible whimpers joined the cacophony of delighted sounds tumbling out of your and Regulus’ mouth, and your eyes fell on James.

On the way his gaze followed the arch of your back, the curve of your breasts, the blissful expression on your face as you took Regulus’ dick like you were made for it.

An elated smile made its way on your face, breaking through the fog of lust and need clouding your brain.

Oh, he liked it.

He seemed transfixed, completely enraptured by that sight, his fingers traveling along his tanned skin. A path that led exactly to where he was aching the most.

That was, until Regulus stopped him.

The hand not busy anchoring you to him searched for James,’ gently but firmly halting his movements right before he could relieve the visibly aching hardness between his legs.

He turned his head slightly, enough to look at the boy to his side straight in the eyes, his gaze never faltering, not even for a second, as the corners of his mouth tilted up in the lewdest, dirtiest smile.

“Don’t-” he panted, adding his alluring, strained voice to the already filthy melody hanging in the air like, spreading his hand on your boyfriend’s hip, and pulling him forward gently “-I want to feel you down my throat while I fuck her”

Bloody fucking hell, you were sure you had reached heaven.

“Jesus-” James hissed through gritted teeth, his shaft twitching in interest, reacting to Regulus’ salacious words “-got quite a mouth there, huh ?”

Regulus looked at the boy in front of him straight in the eyes, his gaze never faltering, not even for a second as the corners of his mouth tilted up in the lewdest, dirtiest little smile.

“Is that so ?” his tongue darted out slowly, tantalizingly as it gave James’ sensitive tip the tiniest of licks. The low, strangled sound that came out of your boyfriend’s mouth felt illegal to even hear “Let’s make good use of it, then”

A rush of adrenaline ran through your veins, setting every cell of your body ablaze, almost driving you to move your hips, relieving some of that need pooling at the pit of your stomach.

You watched as Regulus’ fingers leisurely wrapped around James’ shaft, feeling his weight in his hand, giving him a couple of experimental strokes.

Meanwhile, his mouth kept exploring. Licking, kissing, and teasing along James’ length, following the path of his touch. 

Until he reached his head.

And you couldn’t help but gawk, entranced and lustful, as Regulus’ plump lips sealed around it, enveloping it salaciously into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing slightly as he gave it the gentlest of sucks.

“God-” James visibly shivered, goosebumps covering his skin as the other kept working him up slowly, swirling around his tip, collecting his arousal on his tongue before pulling away with an obscenely wet ‘pop.’

You hadn’t even begun to process what you had just witnessed when Regulus, eyes glossy and lips shiny in what surely was a mix of his own saliva and James’ pre-cum, dived in and kissed you like it was his last day on earth.

It was brutal, uncoordinated, and the hottest thing you had ever experienced. All lips, and teeth, and burning hunger. And, of course, James.

Because you could taste him. Right on Regulus’ tongue.

You moved before you could even formulate a coherent thought.

A symphony of delighted sounds bounced on the walls of that room you felt like you weren’t in anymore.

You were high. Higher than ever before as your hips started gaining a life of their own, swaying back and forth slowly, savoring the sublime friction of Regulus against your tender walls as he slid in and out, inch after delicious inch.

“Think you can help me a little, chérie ?” he panted on your lips; voice shattered glass.

And you understood. 

Even if you knew it wasn’t Regulus’ first time getting acquainted with a male anatomy that wasn’t his own, and, as eager as he seemed at the idea of deepthroating James until he choked on him, it was obvious he wasn’t quite sure on how to approach said scenario.

James was, for lack of better terms, fucking big.

It had taken you a bit of…practice too before you could take him all the way in and make it a pleasurable experience for both of you.

“Regulus-” your boyfriend started, voice disheveled, winded, yet coated with a gentle concern. A hidden hesitation.

“As I said-” Regulus promptly interrupted him, firm and unwavering –or as steady as he could manage with you on top of him– as his hand rested on James’ waist, lips ghosting over the crease of his hip “-I want to feel you down my throat. All of you. I want it”

A jolt of electricity lit up every nerve of your body.

Before you could even react to the absolutely ungodly words he had just spoken, Regulus dived in again, his mouth wrapping around James like he was ready to devour him whole.

Which, to his credit, he did try. And, unfortunately, failed if the gagging sound that ripped out of his throat was of any indication.

“Jesus Christ-” James’ hand flew to Regulus’ black locks, muscles tight and tense as a string of curses left his lips, the sudden contraction around him no doubt almost sending him over the edge in a matter of seconds “-trying to kill me ?”

A small, endeared smile flickered on your face as you took in Regulus’ mildly frustrated look, eyes watery from a kind of exertion he wasn’t used to but still burning with a blinding eagerness.

Bloody hell, you wanted to eat him up. 

“Easy there, pretty boy” you cooed, the shadow of a chuckle in your voice as your lips ghosted over the shell of his ear, hot and teasing.

As enthusiastic and determined as he seemed to be about having James so deep inside of him it hit the back of his throat, and as much as that excitement made your heart nearly jump out of your chest, he needed a little guidance.

The fact that you knew exactly how to make James crumble bit by bit was merely just a bonus.

“Start slow,” you coaxed, voice reaching him in a soft whisper “just like you did earlier”

Regulus followed suit, zero hesitation in his movements as he slowly lowered his head. The tip of James' cock traced the seam of his mouth, a stray drop of arousal making his lips shine beautifully under the lights before his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet them, brushing your boyfriend’s head as if by accident.

James’ nostrils flared, a sharp inhale disrupting his already uneven breathing.

Then, Regulus’ plump lips parted, and every fight left the Gryffindor at once, his eyes zeroing on that unholy mouth as it wrapped around him, surrounding him in its heat.

”Yes, just like that” you encouraged, your own voice breathless, broken by the image your eyes were being graced with. 

An image you wouldn't have easily forgotten. It would’ve hunted your dreams forever. And, goodness, if you weren’t more than just fine with it.

So fine, in fact, that your body decided it couldn’t stay still no longer in front of such a glorious sight.

You felt dizzy, intoxicated by the feeling of Regulus inside of you, by the look of raw pleasure on James’ beautiful features, by the nearly surreal situation you were in.

Your hips started swaying before you could even think. Gently, excruciatingly slow. A rhythm so tortuous anybody else would’ve thought it a punishment.

But you knew Regulus, the same way you knew James. Meaning, you knew exactly how to ruin him too.

The hold Regulus’ arm had on your waist tightened, pulling you closer to him, making your back arch and your hips rock forward by reflex.

Your broken whines filled the air with their melodic tune, mixing with deep grunts and strangled moans, as Regulus kept his descent on James surprisingly steady.

Such a stark contrast with the way his hips snapped up, meeting yours in their desperate dance of filth and lust.

“Deeper” you mewled, your brain fogged up. 

And he complied. He complied near damn perfectly, hips thrusting up and head sinking down in unison.

Just like the cries of pleasure pouring out of your and James’ mouth. A perfect symphony.

“Fuck- baby”

Who had cried that out, you weren’t even sure.

Had you been in your right mind you would’ve definitely recognized the shattered voice that uttered those words like a plea was too low, too husky to be yours. 

But you were so lost, so slowly losing your grasp on reality as a wave of pleasure overtook you, that it didn’t matter. 

Not that it would’ve mattered, anyway.

Your eyes almost rolled back in ecstasy as Regulus lodged himself so impossibly deep inside of you he took your breath away, your insides melting.

His mouth chased James’ length eagerly, welcoming it further, deeper. Until he couldn’t anymore, the sound of his throat contracting and refusing to let any more of the Gryffindor in filling the room.

“Shit- Slowly. Slow down. Breathe” 

Among the haziness taking over your brain, James’ strained, nearly shattered voice arrived at your ears crystal clear, making that last remaining thread of your sanity snap.

You couldn’t see, couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t Regulus’ cock pulsing and pistoning inside of you, your hips rolling and grinding, taking and taking until all you could think about was the chant of his name. An unholy prayer.

“Relax, baby. Hollow your cheeks for me” James’ gentle voice coaxed.

You had to use all your strength, every drop of willpower to get your brain to regain a little clarity, enough to witness the magnificent sight right before you.

And, bloody hell, if it was worth it.

James’ hand was resting on Regulus’ head, swiping through his curls soothingly, guiding him as his head bobbed up and down in an intoxicating rhythm, mouth stretched around him and nose brushing at the base as he took him all the way in. 

Regulus looked absolutely wrecked. Eyes glossy, hazy, a sheer veil of tears that refused to spill coated his scalding gaze while it locked with the hazel flames burning in James,’ following his every word.

“Fuck yeah- Just like that” your boyfriend moaned; head thrown back in complete rapture. So lost in pleasure that he didn’t quite register it when his hips snapped forward in a tentative, uncoordinated thrust.

You watched as a flash of sheer worry traveled through his eyes. The slightest hint of panic.

He stilled immediately, breath hitching, swallowing hard as his mouth parted.

Whatever he meant to say, though, would’ve remained a mystery.

Regulus’ hand flew to James’ hips, shutting him up promptly, his grip tight enough to leave indents under his touch, molding the sun-kissed skin with his imprints.

An obscenely wet sound filled the air as he pulled away from James, releasing him from the wet heat of his mouth.

Your stomach flipped on itself, your walls clenching around him as a jolt of electricity running through your whole body prompted you to rock forward in a move as involuntary as it was needed.

Because, despite the utter dishevelment on Regulus’ face, his eyes held a look that you would have recognized blindly. 

That hunger. That greed. 

“Come on, Potter-” he croaked, voice shattered into millions of tiny little pieces, a taunting smirk on those red, glistening lips “-fuck this mouth like you mean it”

He wanted more.

What a blessing, then, that James lived to give.

So that's exactly what he did.

He gave and gave and gave, thrusting into Regulus’ mouth like a madman chasing his release, feeding him his cock like he had not just asked, but demanded.

The relentless rhythm of James' hips almost sent Regulus stumbling back before the hand not busy guiding the devilish dance of your hips anchored itself on your boyfriend’s strong thigh. 

Lewd, downright pornographic sounds reached your ears as your hips sped up their dance of pleasure, rocking back and forth, using the little leverage you had on Regulus’ thighs and shoulders to ride him, bouncing up and down his cock again and again.

Sharp thrusts pushed James deeper and deeper down the younger’s throat, and he took everything the Gryffindor gave him like he was made for it. Like he craved it. 

A needy whine rumbled in Regulus’ throat, and James' knees damn nearly gave out from the undoubtedly exquisite vibration around his sensitive dick, prompting his movements to turn erratic.

And you could imagine it. No, scratch that. You could fucking hear it.

The wet, obscene sounds of James fucking into Regulus’ mouth like a man possessed, each thrust forcing out choked moans that could've put a pornstar to shame. You could hear how he bottomed out, burying himself to the hilt, stretching Regulus’ throat until there was nowhere left to go.

But fuck, you wanted to feel it.

Your hand found its way to Regulus’ throat, delicate fingers wrapping around his neck adorning it with the prettiest of collars. A slow, gentle squeeze sent a shudder through him, his pulse hammering beneath your palm, muscles flexing as he swallowed around James’ cock. Tight, desperate, taking him in as if he could never get enough. 

You pressed just a little harder, feeling every inch of your boyfriend’s thick length through the heat of Regulus’ throat, the way he clenched and stretched to accommodate him, savoring the weight, the taste, the sheer possession of it.

The sensation nearly undid you. Regulus’ flushed skin burned against your palm, your own hips falling into rhythm with James’ brutal pace, each thrust sending another wave of white-hot arousal through you.

You were on the edge, ready to freefall in that pit of bliss, to bring Regulus with you.

He was close. You could feel it. 

The way he trembled beneath you, the way the grip on your waist turned so tight you were flushed against him, your clit brushing his crotch with every grind of your hips, the way he pulsed and twitched inside of you.

He was right there, threatening to dissolve into pleasure.

James was too, the pitch of his voice turning the slightest bit higher in a mess of moans and half-babbled words as he chased his release like a drowning man chased oxygen. A telltale of his approaching orgasm.

And you knew he wanted it, reach his high and paint Regulus’ throat into the finest of masterpieces.

You, on the other hand, had something else in mind, Regulus’ earlier words echoing in your brain like a hypnotizing mantra.

“Don't let him come” you panted, breath hot and uneven against the Slytherin’s ear.

A broken protest left James’ mouth as Regulus did exactly as you told, lips red and swollen as he pulled away from James’ hard as steel cock.

“Torturing your own boyfriend, chérie ?” he rasped, latching onto your lips not even a second later like you were the air he needed to live. Hungry, desperate, and tasting so undoubtedly James.

The rhythm of your hips got faster and faster, ruthless, your vision slowly fading to black as waves of pleasure washed over you, setting your entire body ablaze.

“No-” you purred, your mouth curling in a blissful smirk, lust taking over all your senses, and annihilating each and every one of your filters “-I just want you to make a mess of me –both of you– until I’m wrecked, dripping, and so full of your cum that I can barely focus on any other thought that’s not your cocks fucking every single grain of sanity out of me”

Muscles tense beneath your touch, alabaster skin slick with sweat and steam rising with goosebumps. 

A deliberate roll of your hips unraveled Regulus completely, his body shuddering beneath you as he spilled over the edge.

Your back arched in bliss, white noise buzzing in your ears as pleasure consumed you. Heat flooded your core, his release marking you once more, just as he had countless times before. 

You drank in every broken moan, tasting them on your tongue as they tangled with your own.

The rhythm of your movements softened, slowing into something languid, drawing out every last pulse of his pleasure. Until it halted completely.

Heavy breaths filled the air, chests rising and falling rhythmically as you and Regulus slowly came down from your high. 

The buzzing noise humming in your ears faded bit by bit, letting you regain a little clarity of your surroundings once again. Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t silence you were met with, but a melody of debauched, open-mouthed moans.

That sinful sound pulled you back in, each desperate, wrecked moan making your already overstimulated body twitch in response. 

With your mind still fogged by pleasure, you turned your head just enough to catch the sight of James. 

His chest heaving, his cock flushed an angry red and aching, still glistening from Regulus’ mouth, his fingers tight around it as he stroked himself.

“Merlin-” he rasped, his voice wrecked, his hips jerking into his hand as his thumb swept over the leaking tip “You both are trying to kill me”

You barely heard him over the sound of slick skin, of his rough breaths catching in his throat. 

Your gaze dropped to the way his fingers tightened, to the desperate flex of his wrist, to how fucking needy he was, fucking into his own palm while he stared at you like he was starving.

You had seen James needy before, seen him desperate, begging even, but not like this. Never like this.

It felt like pure gasoline poured on a fire still burning bright and strong.

And from the way Regulus’ fingers dug into your waist, from the sharp inhale against the back of your neck, you knew he felt it too.

“Fuck-” Regulus exhaled as he leaned in close to your ear. Rough, uneven, still catching his breath “-look at him”

And look you did. Because James with his jaw clenched, his breath ragged, his cock twitching in his grip as he slowly dragged his fist over the length, teasing himself, like he was trying to make it last, like he wanted to savor how utterly ruined you and Regulus looked, looked like an absolute mess.

The hottest, most delectable, and unbelievably gorgeous mess you had ever seen.

You smirked, barely recovered from your own high, but still craving more. Still craving him.

Still craving everything.

You clenched around Regulus, your breath stuttering. A slow, aching pulse thrummed low in your stomach, as your body took full control.

“Like what you see, Reggie ?” you whimpered, the thick veil of tease not enough to conceal the wreckage in your voice. 

Regulus groaned softly beneath you, his cock swelling against your sensitive walls once again, slowly, reacting to that masterpiece of a scene in front of you.

“I do-” his lips brushed your shoulders, his tongue tracing a sultry path up to your neck, his breath caressing the shell of your ear sending another sharp pulse of heat through you “-and I think he does, too”

You knew he did. You could see it. 

The way James’ fist tightened around himself, the way his hips rocked back and forth like he wanted nothing more than to shove you onto your back and bury himself inside you.

And there was nothing you wanted more.

A smirk curled at your lips, despite the way heat sparked in your belly. 

“Should we give him the full show ?”

Then you moved.

Slowly. Deliberately.

You lifted yourself up just enough to make Regulus exhale sharply, feeling every inch of him drag against your walls as you adjusted, turning, shifting, taking your time as you swung one leg over and settled back down onto him, your back molding against his chest, thighs spread wide over his, now facing James.

Now giving him the perfect view.

Your boyfriend’s strokes faltered, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes glued to the sight in front of him.

Your parted lips. Your heaving chest. The way your thighs trembled over Regulus.’ But most of all, the place where you were still stretched full, where slickness dripped down onto Regulus’ lap, where you were spread wide and open for James to see.

“Holy fuck-” Regulus groaned breathlessly behind you, his chest rising and falling hard against your back. His fingers dug into your thighs, a slow, disbelieving exhale brushing your shoulder.

You hummed, tilting your head, feigning innocence as you rocked your hips once. Just enough to feel Regulus shift inside you, just enough to tear a ragged gasp from his throat. 

Just enough to let James see exactly how full you were.

A choked-off curse left your boyfriend’s lips, his fingers twitching against his cock, his hips jerking like he couldn’t help himself, like he would’ve crumbled to pieces if he didn’t get a taste of your skin.

His jaw was slack, his hazel eyes glued to the sight of your body spread open for him, the way Regulus gripped your thighs for dear life, giving James everything as his hips bucked up, just enough to grant him some sweet relief.

James’ rhythm faltered, now uncoordinated and on the verge of desperation, caught between the overwhelming urge to keep touching himself and the way he physically couldn’t look away.

“I-” his voiced cracked “I can’t- I don’t-”

“Tell me what you want, Jamie” you coaxed, voice honey-sweet despite the need threatening to consume you whole “Tell me what you need”

“You-” your boyfriend finally rasped, voice broken, pleading “I fucking need you”

Your stomach flipped, heat licking at your spine at the way James looked at you like he was a breath away from falling apart. Like he would’ve begged to have you.

“Yeah ?” you breathed, a hazy grin settling on your lips, thighs parting slightly wider, a silent invitation “Come and take me, then”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

“Fucking hell-” he growled, tearing his hand away from himself so fast you barely had time to react before he was on you, gripping, pressing, his slick palm sliding over your thigh as he shoved his way between your legs.

“You dangerous, dangerous woman” he muttered, his voice wrecked as his lips crashed against yours, messy and desperate. His cock was hot and heavy against your stomach, smearing precum against your skin as he rutted against you like he couldn’t help himself “You-” his fingers traced over your soaked skin, teasing, testing “-are going to destroy me, you know ?”

“Like you wouldn’t let me” you murmured, tongue brushing against his, tasting him, fingers clawing at his back, feeling the heated skin under your touch.

James groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his breath shuddering as he throbbed against you.

“I would- I- so fucking would-” he whispered on your mouth, a sharp breath punched from his lungs like he was barely holding himself together. His grip tightened, his body shaking “-I’m at your mercy, remember ? I’m yours. Yours to ruin, yours to wreck, yours to break. I’m yours. You could tear my heart out of my ribcage and stomp on it, and I’d still bleed for you, Y/n”

Heat ignited into every cell of your body.

Because you knew it. Those weren’t just words. James would’ve gladly surrendered to you, laid himself open and raw before you if it meant making you happy, if it meant seeing just the shadow of a smile on your face.

You felt Regulus’ breath hitch behind you. His body suddenly tense.

You could hear it in the way he exhaled sharply, feel it in the way his fingers dug into your thighs like he needed something to hold onto. 

James’ confession had affected him.

You felt him move before you saw it, the way his hand ghosted up James’ arm, up his shoulder. Fingertips tracing, lingering on glistening, taut muscles.

And then --Regulus looked at him, his gaze locked to pleading, begging hazel pools of warmth.

“Reg-”

“Shh-” Regulus whispered, tilting his head, brushing his lips against James’ jaw.

A tease. A question etched in his eyes. Silent, searing.

James broke.

His hands left your skin for only a second, just long enough to grip Regulus by the back of the neck and drag him in.

His answer.

The kiss was hungry.

Not careful, not measured. Just a desperate clash of lips and teeth and tongue, of gasping breaths and ragged moans as James lost himself in it.

Regulus groaned, his fingers tightening in James’ hair, tugging, tilting his chin just enough to take more, enough to brand his taste on his tongue too.

"Fuck-" the Slytherin rasped, his hand on James’s jaw, his thumb swiping over his cheek, bringing him impossibly closer “-does this mean you’re mine too, now ?”

James whimpered into Regulus’ mouth, his body thrumming with heat, with need, his cock pressing hot and heavy against your stomach, slick and aching and-

“I can be”

Regulus’ fingers tightened around him, his breath shuddering as something unreadable, something dangerous, flickered across his face. His thumb traced absently over the curve of James’ shoulder, the touch almost reverent, almost claiming.

James’ breath hitched.

'I can be'

The words still lingered in the air, thick with promise. With surrender.

Your heart stuttered.

Because you knew what that was.

James wasn’t just surrendering to you.

He was surrendering to both of you. You and Regulus.

“God-" you exhaled, thighs instinctively spreading wider, your nails digging into James’ back, into Regulus’ wrist.

Regulus exhaled sharply, his grip flexing where his hand still pressed against James’ back, his body rigid beneath you. You could feel him, still thick and hot inside you, still stretched wide around him, still sensitive from how he had already ruined you once.

And yet, you wanted more.

Regulus must have felt it too, the way your walls clenched around him at just the thought, because his breath hitched, his fingers twitching against James’ skin, his pupils blown as he flicked his gaze down.

James followed his stare, down to where you were still spread open, still taking Regulus, still dripping around him.

"Fuck-" he gritted out, voice strangled "I can’t-"

"Then don’t," you whispered, arching into him, your lips curling slightly, reassuringly "Take what you need, Jamie."

James shuddered.

His hands grasped at your thighs, your hips, gripping, lifting. Your body arching between them, your breath shattering as you felt James press against you, his cock hard and leaking, teasing at your entrance where Regulus already stretched you.

Your whole body shook.

"F-fuck–" you gasped, fingers digging into James' shoulders, into Regulus’ chest beneath you, overwhelmed by the sheer filth of it, of them, of this.

James groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, his body trembling as his hips stuttered, teasing, testing, like he could barely believe this was real. Like he was afraid if he moved too fast, it would all shatter.

Regulus smirked beneath you, low and wrecked, his hands smoothing over your waist before trailing down, down, teasing over where you were slick and spread and waiting for James to take you.

"Come on, James" Regulus murmured, his voice sinful, his fingers ghosting over James’ cock, guiding, lining him up. "Don’t you want to fill her up like she asked ?"

James growled. And then he thrust, sinking into you in one deep, desperate movement.

The stretch was blinding.

A choked moan tore from your throat, your fingers clutching, clawing at James as he sank into you, slow but deep, your body struggling to take him, to take both of them.

James let out a wrecked sound, his entire body trembling as he buried himself to the hilt, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath hot and ragged.

"Fuck- fuck, oh my God- I can feel him," he gasped, his voice cracking, his hands tightening on your waist like he was barely holding himself together.

Regulus groaned beneath you, his fingers flexing where they gripped your thighs, his head tipping back as his hips jerked, just enough to make you whimper. 

"You feel fucking unreal-" James rasped, his lips brushing against yours, his body shuddering, his eyes fluttering shut like he was dizzy with it “-you're so, shit- you're soaked, baby”

“Please- fuck-” you gasped, voice breaking as another sharp wave of pleasure rolled through you. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but feel. Feel them working you open, pushing and pulling, stretching you to the point of delirium.

Regulus exhaled harshly, his grip shifting, one hand sliding up your waist, his fingers pressing into your ribs.

“Good girl-” he mused, his voice strained, his control slipping further with each thrust, his cock throbbing inside you, his breath coming in uneven gasps “-taking us so fucking well”

There was no escape from the sensation, no reprieve from the slow, devastating rhythm of them taking you closer and closer to heaven.

Your own body betrayed you, hips rolling instinctively, chasing every ounce of friction they gave you. Heat coiled deep in your stomach, thighs trembling, pleasure licking up your spine like fire. It was too much. Too much and not enough, your senses overloaded as the pleasure built, scalding and unbearable.

The way you clenched around them sent James spiraling, his body jerking against you. 

“Fuck- fuck- fuck-” he swore, voice cracking, his hips stuttering as his control slipped. “Shit, baby- I’m- fuck-, I can’t-” 

His breath hitched, his fingers digging into your hips as he slammed into you one last time, his body locking up as he came, deep and hot, a wrecked groan spilling from his lips.

Regulus cursed beneath you, a sharp, desperate sound, his hands tightening bruisingly on your waist. Your body spasmed between them, their heat pushing you over the edge, pleasure crashing through you in blinding waves.

You were shattering, piece by piece. Every nerve burning, every thrust driving you further into ruin, making your head spin, your thoughts blank, nonexistent, words a babbling mess of incoherent whimpers and mewls.

"Fucking hell-" Regulus’s voice was strained, hoarse, his rhythm breaking as he chased the high, your body milking him for everything he had. His grip faltered, his breath coming in sharp gasps before he finally gave in, hips snapping up as he spilled inside you, a low, drawn-out groan slipping from his lips.

James was still trembling against you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

Regulus lay back beneath you, utterly spent, his fingers twitching against your skin, his own breath ragged and uneven.

For a moment, none of you moved, the only sound in the room the slow, unsteady rhythm of your breathing.

James let out a weak, breathless laugh, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder “Holy fuck”

A sharp, satisfied hum rumbled from Regulus’s chest, his hands lazily tracing over your waist, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go yet. You felt the lazy glide of James’s fingers along your thigh, his breath still hot against your shoulder as he murmured “Look at you. You’re so fucking full, baby”

The words sent a shiver through you, your body still aching, still sensitive as you felt the heat of them spilling from you, slick and warm, already dripping between your thighs.

“Such a beautiful mess” Regulus breathed, his lips caressing the shell of your ear, his fingers tightening for a moment before he shifted beneath you, pulling out slowly, a strangled moan echoing in his throat.

James groaned, his lips brushing against your jaw as he eased himself back, sliding out of you with a hiss. He trailed his fingers down your thigh, teasing along the mess between your legs, swiping at the slick wetness before bringing them to his lips. His tongue flicked out, tasting, and his eyes fluttered shut. 

“Shit-” the Slytherin murmured, head tilting up slightly, meeting your boyfriend’s hazy eyes, voice thick with something dark, something indulgent “-that’s filthy, Potter”

James’ lips curled into a lazy smirk, fingers still glistening as he slowly brought them to Regulus’ mouth, brushing the plump flesh, teasing, taunting as he smeared the intoxicating mix of your arousals on his lips, making them shine, glisten under the warm light of the setting sun.

“What was it again ?” your boyfriend’s voice dropped low, almost challenging, sending a shiver down your spine “You wanted to taste me on Y/n’s dripping cunt ?”

Regulus breathed, letting out a low chuckle, his eyes dark, dangerous. But you could feel the tension in his body, the way his hands flexed against your hips. 

Your breath hitched, your body still trembling from the aftershocks as, without a warning, Regulus parted his lips, engulfing James’ digits into the warmth of his mouth.

James sucked in a sharp breath as Regulus’s tongue curled around them, dragging slowly and deliberate over the length, tasting himself, tasting James, tasting all of you. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, a quiet, satisfied sound slipping from him.

The Gryffindor's breath hitched, his pupils dilating as he watched, utterly transfixed.

Regulus pulled back with a soft ‘pop’, his tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop at the corner of his mouth. His lips curved slightly, knowing, teasing.

“What ?” he murmured, tilting his head, his voice like silk, smooth and unshaken “Wouldn’t want to waste a drop, would we ?”

James let out a ragged chuckle, his fingers tracing along Regulus’s jaw before he tugged him closer, pressing their lips together in a slow, deep kiss, sharing the taste between them.

You whimpered softly, body shuddering at the sight, at the way their tongues tangled, at the way they both moaned into it. 

Your head spun, heat pooling low in your stomach despite the exhaustion humming in your bones.

Regulus pulled away first, his lips glistening, his eyes dark and knowing as they met yours, your head laying on his shoulder as you basked in utter bliss. He let his fingers ghost down your legs, your waist, your breasts, lips kissing your cheek tenderly, almost reverentially before he moved, shifting carefully, slipping away from behind you and guiding you onto the bench, laying you out before them.

A meal on a silver platter.

Your back hit the cool wood, sending a sharp contrast through the heat still simmering in your veins. 

Goosebumps raised all over your body.

In a heartbeat, Regulus was in front of you, chest to chest with James as he looked at him like he wanted to devour him. 

“Fuck-” James breathed, his voice rough, wrecked, completely entranced.

Regulus’s smirk deepened slightly, pleased, his fingers ghosting over James’s shoulders and then-

“Sit”

And James ? James obeyed without batting an eye, sitting in between your legs, the mess of your clothes on the floor shielding his naked, heated skin from the cold hardwood.

Regulus sank down, deliberate, slow, crawling up until he was straddling James’s lap, pressing their bodies flush together, long fingers tracing his chest as he adjusted himself.

You swore you felt your heart stuttered, a sharp pulse of arousal licking through you at the sight.

James sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers twitching, his head tilting back slightly to meet Regulus’s gaze. His hands instinctively slid down, gripping Regulus’s hips, holding him there like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to push him closer or pull him away before he lost his mind entirely.

Regulus leaned in, close enough that their noses brushed, his breath warm against James’s lips. 

“Don’t lose yourself yet-” he murmured, teasing, his fingers trailing up to James’s jaw. “-we still have a mess to clean up.”

James exhaled shakily, his grip tightening, his head spinning. He was completely gone, completely undone.

He let out a quiet groan, eyes fluttering shut for a second before he forced them open again, dragging his gaze back to you. 

You were still sprawled out on the bench, watching them, lips parted, eyes wide with heat and anticipation.

Regulus turned his attention back to you as well, tilting his head slightly. His fingers trailed down James’s wrist, guiding one of his hands between your legs.

James shuddered as he obeyed, dragging his fingers through the slick mess of them still dripping from you. He brought his fingers up, watching as Regulus smirked, catching his wrist and pulling it toward him.

Without breaking eye contact, Regulus parted his lips and took James’s fingers into his mouth. Again.

James cursed, his entire body tensing, his cock twitching beneath Regulus despite how spent he was. The wet heat of Regulus’s mouth around his fingers, the slow drag of his tongue, the way he sucked every drop from them. It was fucking intoxicating.

When Regulus finally pulled off, his tongue flicking over his lower lip, he huffed a quiet chuckle 

“I think you like this a bit too much, Potter” he murmured, amusement lacing his voice.

James let out a shaky breath, a slow, crooked smirk tugging at his lips “No such thing” he rasped.

Regulus chuckled softly before leaning back slightly, adjusting himself on James’ lap as they both settled between your legs.

James looked mesmerized. By Regulus, by you, by all of it. By the heat still simmering in Regulus’s gaze, by the way he looked so completely at ease straddling him, by the way his weight felt against him.

Regulus hummed softly, trailing a finger along your thigh before flicking his gaze toward James. “Are you just going to stare?” he murmured, teasing “Don’t you want a proper taste ?”

James let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head slightly, his hands flexing on Regulus’s waist. “You’re going to be the death of me. Both of you”

Regulus smirked, leaning in until their lips were nearly touching. 

“Not yet” he murmured.

And then, together, they turned their attention back to you.

“Lay back, love” Regulus whispered, his fingers trailing up your thigh, his touch featherlight but searing “Let us clean you up”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, your legs spreading even wider, making space for them, giving them the full view of your dripping cunt, of the mess they had made.

The first slow stroke of their tongues sent a sharp tremor through your body, your breath catching in your throat, your fingers twisting into the bench beneath you.

Regulus was slow, teasing, drawing soft noises from you with every lazy flick of his tongue, while James was deliberate, relentless, his hands gripping Regulus’s hips as he buried himself in the taste of you. 

Their mouths brushed against each other as they moved, tongues sliding together against you as they both worked to devour you completely.

“Ah- ah- Oh my, fuck-” obscene moans rippled from your mouth as your hands flew to their hair, pulling, bringing them closer, seeking the heavenly feeling of their mouths on you.

James groaned into you, completely drowning in it, his grip tightening on Regulus like he needed something to keep himself tethered, his hands sliding lower, cupping Regulus’ ass as he pulled him closer, their cocks trapped between their rocking bodies. 

Regulus hummed in satisfaction, grinding down, tilting his head just enough for their tongues to brush against each other, slick and hungry, savoring you together.

 They licked and kissed and tasted you until you were shaking, until you were barely coherent, until all you could do was feel.

A broken sob ripped from your throat, pleasure tearing through you in an unstoppable wave, your entire body seizing beneath them, breaking, completely at their mercy.

They didn’t stop, didn’t pull away until they had taken everything from you, until you were spent, trembling, wrecked beyond recognition.

When Regulus finally sat back, his lips were swollen, his chin glistening, his body still firmly settled on James’s lap. 

James just stared at him, completely dazed, completely entranced, completely gone. Just like you.

Regulus licked his lips, smirking slightly. 

“You’re surprisingly sweet, Potter” he murmured, a glint of mischief sparkling in his lidded eyes.

James let out a breathless, wrecked chuckle, shaking his head.

“You really are something” a deep, satisfied sigh rumbled from his chest as he slumped back, his head lolling against your thigh. His grip on Regulus’s hips loosened, one hand tracing lazy, absentminded circles against his skin, the other slowly caressing your leg, fingers dancing on your calf.

Regulus made a soft, amused sound, but he didn’t move right away either. He just sat there, still straddling James, his back rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. One of his hands trailed over James’s chest, featherlight, and the other reached for you.

His fingertips grazed your thigh, slow, delicate, before he let his palm settle there, warm and grounding.

For a long moment, the three of you just breathed.

Your body felt boneless, floating. Completely wrecked, completely spent, your limbs weak as you melted into the bench beneath you.

Then, James huffed out a quiet, breathless laugh. 

“Fuck-” His voice was wrecked, hoarse, like he had forgotten how to speak properly.

You let out a small, exhausted chuckle in response, turning your head toward them. Your muscles ached in the best way, your skin still humming with the remnants of their touch. 

“Yeah-” you murmured, voice thick with exhaustion “-that about sums it up.”

James cracked a lazy grin, his fingers tightening slightly on Regulus’s waist “Give me a second, and I swear I’ll be able to think straight again”

Regulus hummed, his lips curving faintly as he leaned down slightly, his nose brushing against James’s jaw. 

“Have you ever had that kind of ability ?” he murmured, voice rich with amusement and that trademark sarcasm.

James huffed, shaking his head, but he didn’t argue.

Instead, he turned his head slightly, looking at you. 

His expression softened, something warm flickering in his eyes as they raked over you, your blissed-out expression, the glow on your skin, the way your chest still rose and fell in uneven breaths.

“You alright, baby ?” he asked softly, eyes glossy and warm, so warm as he left small, soothing kisses on the sensitive skin of your thigh.

Your heart swelled in your chest.

“Mmh,” you let out a soft hum, fingers brushing through his hair reassuringly “More than alright”

And it was true, you were more than just ‘alright.’ You were on cloud nine, cloud fucking ten, if it was possible. 

That had happened. And this time it wasn’t just a fantasy, it wasn’t just a product of your fervid imagination, no.

They were there, James and Regulus, in flesh and blood. 

And you were full of them.

Regulus shifted, still half sprawled on James’ lap, his fingers tracing light patterns on your stomach, featherlight and absentminded, like he was soothing you without even realizing it.

You could feel his gaze on you. Heavy, warm, lingering. 

You shivered, your eyes flicking up to his as he watched you with something too knowing in that sea of molten silver. 

Curiosity. Interest. 

“Come on” a tired chuckle rolled off your lips “Ask me. I know you want to”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you with that calculating gleam that told you more than words could, his fingers still trailing over your skin.

A half-smirk curled at his lips.

“How long ?” he asked then, voice low, smooth as silk.

James, still catching his breath, shifted slightly. 

“Mmh ?” he let out a tired, confused hum, his head still blissfully propped on your thigh “How long what ?”

But you weren’t looking at James.

Your eyes were locked on Regulus, and his searching gaze.

“You planned this-” he murmured, ignoring your boyfriend entirely, his voice laced with amusement “-so I want to know-” his head tilted “how long have you been waiting for this exact moment?”

“Long enough” you admitted finally, your hand taking Regulus’ and holding it, playing with his slender absentmindedly “Ever since I caught you two eye-fucking each other in the Great Hall like the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables didn’t exist”

Regulus let out a quiet, sharp breath through his nose, like he'd been caught in a checkmate he hadn’t even realized he was playing. But the corner of his mouth curled up, eyes glinting with something darkly entertained.

James’ eyebrows scrunched; confusion etched all over his face.

“So that’s why-” Regulus continued “-why you seemed so confident when you suggested this. Why you didn’t hesitate. Why you knew I’d say yes.”

“I didn’t” you admitted, lips twitching. 

And it was the truth. You couldn’t have known for sure. It was a total leap of faith, a jump in the darkness of your own fantasies, though you could see the faintest flicker of light sparkling at the end of the tunnel, the heat of their gazes as fire met ice.

Regulus arched an eyebrow.

The ghost of a smirk hunted your lips “Let’s just say I had a hunch”

“So, you messed with the Slytherin showers” Regulus stated, bemused. He was not asking. He already knew. 

“Oh, no. I didn’t even touch the showers” you answered, almost innocently, a coy grin slowly blooming on your lips “Barty did it for me”

Silence.

Then-

“I’m sorry, what ?!”

James sat up so fast you almost laughed, his entire body snapping upright as if someone had just hexed him. 

He looked between you and Regulus, his mouth parting slightly, like he had just connected the dots, put together the pieces of a puzzle that still hadn’t revealed its full design to him. 

“You-” He blinked rapidly, his gaze flickering to you like your words had just registered in his brain “-you what ?”

Regulus chuckled, shaking his head, the corners of his lips tilting up with something close to admiration.

”Y/n here has been playing chess while we’ve been playing Quidditch, Potter” he said smoothly, watching as realization wrecked James with the force of a Bludger to the chest as his hand traced patterns on his thigh “She planned this”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you as James gawked at you, his lips parting, then closing, then parting again.

It was like watching a short-circuited broom struggle to regain balance.

His fingers curled, uncurled.

“She-” James gaped, eyes widening almost cartoonishly, eyebrows fusing with his hairline “-What ?!”

“She planned this” Regulus repeated, his expression nothing short of entertained as he watched James’ entire worldview slowly implode “Your sweet little girlfriend set us up, James”

For a moment, just a single moment, he didn’t say anything.

You grinned.

"You said it yourself, didn’t you ?" you whispered lowly, a hint of amusement laced in your tone as you pushed yourself off the bench, finally slipping down to the floor between them, your back pressing against James’ chest as you stretched your legs over Regulus’ “Hogwarts showers can’t just break”

James inhaled sharply, simply sitting there, goggling at you absolutely floored. The gears in his brain turned and twisted, almost letting smoke out of his ears as you watched the realization hit him fully in the chest.

“Fucking hell-” he gasped, letting out the most flabbergasted laugh you had ever heard, turning his full frantic attention to you “-you did plan this !”

Regulus let out a quiet chuckle, his hands still skimming over your thighs.

"You really had no idea ?" he deadpanned, despite his lips curling into a grin.

James whipped to face him so fast you thought he might give himself whiplash.

"I-" he gestured wildly, looking between you and Regulus like he had just stumbled into some grand, ancient conspiracy. "What? No! How- when-" he huffed a breathless laugh, running a hand through his already thoroughly ruined hair. "I knew you were smart, but this is- you're-" his voice wavered somewhere between awe and sheer disbelief “Baby, you’re a bloody mastermind”

Your head tipped back against his shoulder, a laugh you couldn’t stop vibrating in your chest at your boyfriend’s utterly transfixed expression, like a kid seeing cotton candy for the first time.

“I wouldn’t go that far” you sighed fondly, cupping James’ face between both hands and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. 

The moment your mouth met his, he melted. His hands, still gripping your waist, pulled you tighter against him, fingers pressing into your skin like he needed the contact to ground himself. His lips parted under yours, his breath warm and uneven as he kissed you back slow and deep, as if he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. The bafflement from earlier dissolved, forgotten, swallowed by the warmth of your lips and the press of your body against his.

“You don’t seem too mad,” you murmured sweetly, a playful lilt in your voice as your fingers absently toyed with a stray lock of his hair.

James exhaled sharply, his hands tightening their grip on you, like he had to physically hold onto something to keep from floating away.

“Mad ?” he repeated, sounding almost delirious. He blinked rapidly, as if still trying to process the past hour of his life. “I mean-” he let out a breathless, wrecked little laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know if being scared and beyond turned on is entirely normal, but mad ? Hell no”

“Scared and horny ?” you chuckled, tracing light patterns over his collarbone with your fingertips “That’s ok. I can work with that”

“Of course, you can” Regulus murmured, his voice smooth as silk as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against the side of your face. His lips brushed featherlight against your temple before moving down, leaving a slow, almost lazy kiss beneath your jaw.

You sighed, your body melting further into James behind you, your fingers reaching for Regulus’ wrist, pulling him in just a little more.

You could feel your boyfriend’s gaze on you, the way his fingers traced your sides, your arms, your hair. Like he couldn't believe the last hour of his life had been reality and not a dream, like it had been just a fever dream.

“You look like you’re having a bit of a crisis” Regulus mused, voice smooth, teasing as his lips moved from your skin to James’ “Need a moment?”

James let out a breathless, incredulous laugh, still trying to wrap his head around it all.

“I- Yes? Maybe?” his hands trailed over Regulus’ body, hazel eyes focused on his sinuous figure as he crawled to you, to him “Shit- I don’t know, my brain isn’t working properly right now”

Regulus hummed, smirking slightly “Is that supposed to be news ?”

James shot him a half-hearted glare, still dazed, still drunk on the feeling of your body on his, of Regulus’ lips ghosting over his pulse “I’ll have you know I have a perfectly functioning brain…most times”

“Sure you do” Regulus drawled, but there was a glint of playfulness in his stormy eyes, amusement as his lips traveled up, dragging slow, open-mouthed kisses along James’ throat. James let out a sharp breath, hands tightening on Regulus' waist, body tensing beneath him like he was barely keeping himself together.

You could feel the way James’ heart stuttered in his chest when Regulus hovered, lips just barely grazing his jaw, his breath warm against his skin. 

And then, finally, he closed the space between them.

The kiss was deliberate, slow, intoxicating, an exhale of heat between them. James sighed into it, one hand threading into Regulus’ hair, tugging him closer like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

You watched, mesmerized, warmth blooming deep in your chest, pooling lower when James tilted his head slightly, parting his lips just enough to let Regulus deepen the kiss, their tongues brushing, slow and teasing.

Regulus made a pleased sound against his mouth, swallowing James’ quiet groan, like he could drink him in.

It was unfair, really, how good they looked like this, how easy they made it seem. Like they had always belonged in this moment.

Your lips parted slightly, breath caught in your throat, the ache of need spreading like fire beneath your skin.

Regulus must have noticed, because he pulled back just enough to glance at you, his silver eyes heavy-lidded, dark with amusement and something deeper.

“Do it, chérie” His voice was low, knowing, showcasing his ability to read your mind with just a simple glance “I know you want to”

“Shit-” James blinked, dazed, like he had just remembered you were there. “Sorry, love, I got a little-”

You huffed a soft laugh, shaking your head, before you reached out, fingers curling at the back of Regulus’ neck, tugging him toward you.

His breath hitched slightly, but he let you pull him in, his lips slotting over yours effortlessly.

It was warm, dizzying, the slow drag of his mouth, the way he sighed into the kiss like he had been waiting for it.

Then James' hands were on your waist, sliding up, tilting your face slightly toward him, his lips ghosting over your jaw, your cheek, before finally capturing your mouth in a kiss of his own, deeper this time, desperate and sweet all at once.

Regulus hummed against you, amused, pleased, as he leaned back in, his lips brushing against both of yours, soft, fleeting, before deepening again, the three of you tangled in warmth, in breathless, hazy want.

You felt utterly consumed. By the weight of James’ hands, the heat of Regulus’ mouth, the way they both fit against you so perfectly, like this was always meant to happen.

By the time you finally broke apart, all of you were flushed, breathless, lips tingling from the sheer intensity of it.

James let out a stunned, wrecked sort of laugh, his head falling back against the bench “Okay. Yeah. That was- that was definitely new”

“I’d say you handled it well enough, Potter” Regulus smirked, dragging his fingers down James’ arm, his other hand skimming over your body.

“Barely” James scoffed, half-amused, half-dazed.

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to James’ jaw before shifting toward Regulus, lips brushing over his one last time, basking in the warmth, in pure bliss.

“We should do that again” you offer, batting your eyelashes in the fakest attempt at innocence.

James scoffed softly, a hint of disbelief shining through. 

“You’re a menace” he murmured, though the way his arms curled tighter around you, the way his lips brushed your shoulder between words, made it clear he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Regulus hummed in agreement, his lips curving faintly against your skin. 

“An insatiable menace” he corrected, but there was something undeniably fond in his tone.

“And yet-” you murmured, a playful smirk tugging at your lips “-I don’t see either of you complaining” 

“Complaining ? Are you kidding ?” James let out a breathless laugh, tipping his head back against the bench with a dazed grin “This is the best day of my fucking life”

Regulus scoffed, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. "Salazar, you’re ridiculous," he muttered, shaking his head. 

Then, softer, he let his fingers trace lazy circles on your hip, his gaze trailing on your pleased smile "But I suppose you’re not wrong”

“Damn right I’m not” James beamed, pressing a kiss to your temple before reaching for Regulus, pulling him in with a smirk. 

You hummed, utterly content, stretching like a cat between them as their hands instinctively roamed over you, absentminded, reverent, like they never wanted to stop touching you. 

A satisfied sigh escaped your lips, your fingers brushing against James’ jaw, then gliding down Regulus’ arm.

A reminder that they were there, they were real, and you were full of them.

In more ways than one.

Hello my beautiful people 💗

It's been quite a while, isn't it ? I hope you're all doing good and that life is treating you kindly.

To make up for my absence I made sure to make this extra long, and extra filthy because I felt EXTRA guilty.

I hope you enjoy this, and thank you again for waiting literal MONTHS for this.

I hope it's worth it 💖

Thank you again for reading my work, and I'll see you in the next one <3

[dreamwritesimagines]

Declassified [13] - Barbecue

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves, you are so amazing🩷

Friendly reminder that I will be on vacation in July, so I won't have access to my laptop🩷 We will have the next chapter around August 1-2 but my headcanons and asks and everything else is open as usual! 🩷 So please let me know what you think, and I hope you like this chapter! 🩷

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: Anything can happen at a barbecue.

Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, MDNI.

Word Count: 6.6k

Series Masterlist

A short white sundress wasn’t exactly professional but then again, everyone else in the team was going to show up in casual clothes anyway.

Even you had to admit, this was a good PR move. Having a barbecue party at his place surrounded by his team and his family –Wilsons— not only sounded fun but also would show the rest of the world that he wasn’t affected by his breakup, and business was as usual.

So technically, the sundress was purely because of PR reasons and not because you wanted him to think you were pretty.

 Technically being the key word.

You fixed your hair and your dress as much as you could with one hand while holding a stack of files and a box of cookies in the other, then knocked on his door and stepped back. Excitement was rushing through your system already, and you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, then looked up as the door opened.

“So I know I came a little early and brought work but the alternative was for me to work in the middle of the barbecue which is like not ideal in terms of PR, so I also brought cookies.”

Bucky looked frozen as he eyed you up and down, his mouth slightly open and you tilted your head in confusion.

“Bucky?”

His eyes whipped to yours and he shook his head as if trying to snap out of the daze he was in, then immediately got the files and the box of cookies from your hands.

“Hey,” he said. “Uh—come in!”

You stepped inside and smiled at Alpine who had run to the hallway to see what was happening.

“Hello my pretty princess!” you cooed, crouching down so that you could pet her. She purred, bumping her head against your hand before she closed her eyes while you ran your fingers through her soft fur.

“I still cannot believe she lets you pet her.”

“She likes me,” you said. “Don’t you Alpine?”

Her answer was rubbing her face against your hand and you scratched at her head, then stood up again to look around. This was bigger than his earlier place which you figured was normal for a Congressman, but it still had Bucky’s characteristics scattered around. His old pictures with The Howling Commandos as well as with Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson were framed on the walls, and as you passed by the living room, you could see his records and phonogram at the corner. You followed him to the kitchen, eyeing his muscular body hungrily, biting at your lip.

How did this man look good both in a suit and casual clothes?

“So.” He pulled you out of your daze as he placed the files and cookies on the kitchen island. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I mean.” You plopped down the stool. “It’s not like I baked them. I don’t want to poison you or the rest of the team.”

He let out a chuckle. “Really?”

“I don’t know how to bake,” you said. “And also I needed bribery so that you’d take a look at the files I brought.”

He eyed them wearily. “That’s a lot of pages.”

“But hey, the cookies are delicious.” You opened the box to turn it in his direction, wiggling your brows. “Try one.”

He heaved a sigh and grabbed one, then bit into it and raised his brows.

“Wow.”

“Right?”

“I’m not sure I know this flavor.”

“Blueberry coffee.”

“Blueberry coffee?” he repeated and you grinned.

“Yeah well, I happen to know you don’t like it too sweet,” you said. “The guy at the register said this one is pretty good—I still refuse to believe you don’t like dessert.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” he said. “I just don’t like too much sugar.”

“I could eat dessert for breakfast, lunch and dinner.” You clasped your hands under your chin. “Did you always dislike it?”

“Well,” he trailed off and shrugged his shoulders. “I mean sugar was rationed, so I didn’t grow up with too much of it. We had it better than most folk but we still didn’t use much. And then the war and then HYDRA...It took me a while to get used to food when I got back, and desserts weren’t the priority.”

You pursed your lips, your heart clenching with compassion. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t be, I don’t mind.”

“You hate it when people ask you about your past though.”

He shook his head. “I don’t if you’re the one asking me.”

You could feel a smile warming your face, and you bit down on your lip.

“Well then, I’m making it my personal challenge to find desserts that you’ll like,” you said as he took another bite of the cookie. “And I’m warning you, I’m very ambitious.”

“Oh really?” he teased you, smiling back. “I haven’t noticed.”

“So I will succeed,” you said and reached out to grab the file at the top, then opened it. “Speaking of succeeding, I need you to take a look at these.”

He took a look at the multiple files, then turned to you.

“Coffee?”

“Oh my God, yes please.”

                                               *

The problem with you and Bucky working alone was that you got along way too well. When you were around other people you could work efficiently but when it you were alone, you got way too distracted.

Like you were right now.

“That’s not a valid answer!” he insisted and you gasped.

“It is!”

“It’s not, it goes against the game.”

“There’s only one logical answer to the 3 things you should take to a deserted island. Powerboat, satellite phone, water filter.”

“Nope.”

“The goal is to get the fuck out of the island!” you insisted, moving your hands to emphasize your point and he shook his head.

“That’s cheating.”

“Fine, what am I supposed to take with me, genius?”

“Knife to hunt for food so you don’t starve, water to not die of dehydration, blanket to not freeze to death at night.” He counted with his fingers. “The goal is survival.”

“I wouldn’t survive a day in nature,” you said. “Like, if I’m ever in the nature, I’ll just let it kill me.”

“That’s not…”

“Also,” you added. “What if the animal I need to kill is a cute deer? What am I gonna do, kill Bambi?”

“Again, you have to survive somehow.”

You gasped. “Not at the expense of Bambi!”

“Sorry about Bambi,” he deadpanned and you made a face.

“Like I said,” you muttered. “I’m not hunting, I’m getting the hell out of the island. You have fun playing Survivor there.”

“See you’re saying this now but if we were both on the island, you’d be eating Bambi.”

“Bucky!”

“I’d just lie to you about where it came from.”

Your jaw dropped and you pushed at his arm, making him let out a laugh.

 “Bambi is in a farm,” he said, trying to keep a straight face, “where she can run all she wants and be happy—”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll get on my powerboat and leave you behind,” you insisted, pointing a finger at him. “I’m just not built for survival, okay? I can barely survive seasonal change, you think I’ll survive a goddamn island? Nope.”

“I’d keep you alive,” he said nonchalantly, reaching out into the box to get another cookie while you turned your phone in your hand.

“Okay, my turn.” You sat up straighter. “We talked about this the other day with Kels and Caleb.”

“I’m listening.”

“Let’s say you woke up tomorrow,” you said. “And everything is perfect. What’s the first thing you’d want to see?”

He raised his brows, a small smile playing on his lips and you took a sip of your coffee.

“Nothing is off limits,” you said. “And no judging, because Caleb said he’d wake up to a bank account of seven figures and had to deal with Kelsey asking him ‘what about world peace you heartless ass?’ for like days whenever he opened his mouth.”

Bucky let out a chuckle, humming as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to tell you or not. You narrowed your eyes at him, resting your elbows on the kitchen island and leaning in.

“Come on,” you taunted him. “Say it.”

“In a perfect world?”

“Yeah,” you said. “You can be totally selfish. What do you wake up to?”

His blue eyes searched your face, his smile fading as he swallowed thickly, then took a deep breath.

“You,” he said. “Next to me.”

Your gaze snapped up to his, the gears in your mind screeching to a halt, your breath hitching in your throat. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, warmth rushing through your system so fast that it made you lightheaded while you tried your hardest to think through the haze.

Bucky liked you back.

…Oh God, he liked you back.

You could swear your whole body was shaking as you took a trembling breath in a desperate attempt to find your voice but before you could say anything, several voices carried out into the kitchen from the front door; Sam, Cass and AJ, and Sarah.

“Buck?”

“Uncle Bucky!”

“Boys, don’t run!”

Hurried footsteps approached and Bucky had to force himself to tear his gaze from yours, then turned to catch AJ and Cass who flung themselves to him mid-air.

“Whoa, did you guys get bigger since I last saw you?” he asked, making them giggle and you tried to pull yourself together, then waved at them.

“Hi guys.”

“Hi!”

“Oh hey there!” Sarah only hesitated for a moment by the doorframe before she went to kiss Bucky’s cheek, then turned to you. “It’s been so long, how have you been?”

“Good,” you managed to squeak out and then cleared your throat. “Great, and you?”

 “I left the door open because there are more people—” Sam paused when he saw you, his eyes going from you to Bucky and to you again. “Uh…more people coming. Hey.”

“Hi Sam, it’s great to see you.”

“Bucky, I already like your—no no no, Alpine, I come in peace!” Caleb’s voice reached the kitchen and Bucky put the boys down, then made his way to the hallway as if nothing was out of the ordinary, as if you weren’t about to pass out in the middle of the kitchen in front of Sam and Sarah.

“And I thought we were here early,” Sam commented, earning a not-so-subtle jab to his ribs from Sarah and you licked your lips, then nodded your head.

“Yeah I…we—we were working.” You vaguely motioned at the files on the kitchen island, your hands still shaky, and you cleared your throat again. “Um—excuse me.”

You made your way out of the kitchen to the hallway and grabbed Kelsey’s arm while Bucky was distracted by the rest of the team asking him where to put the things they brought before you pulled her into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you.

“What’s going on?” she asked and you covered your mouth, jumping up and down with a squeal.

“Kels…”

“What?”

“He likes me.”

Kelsey pulled her brows together. “What?”

You let out a giggle and dropped your hands, your cheeks almost hurting with how wide you were smiling while you bounced on the balls of your feet, your heart still slamming against your chest.

“Bucky,” you whispered. “He…he likes me.”

“Oh my God!” Kelsey pulled you into a tight hug, then pulled back to look at you better. “He said it?”

“Well he—you know, I asked him that question we were talking about the other day, the perfect world one. And he said he’d wake up next to me.”

“Holy shit!” Kelsey whispered and grabbed at your hand. “See? I told you!”

“I can’t believe it,” you said and let out a teary laugh, then fanned at your face with your other hand. “I’m gonna cry I think—”

“Nope you’re not, because the team will start asking questions,” Kelsey said and you took a deep breath, sniffling. “Then?”

“Then Sarah and Sam showed up, and then you guys.”

Kelsey blinked a couple of times. “You guys didn’t even kiss yet?”

“I couldn’t even tell him I like him back yet!” you whispered. “And I—how am I gonna get him alone without the whole team noticing?”

“Yeah, that’s too dangerous right now,” Kelsey said, then shrugged her shoulders. “You’ll have to wait until we all leave.”

Your eyes widened. “That’s hours away!”

“You two waited this long, you can wait a couple of hours,” she said while you let out a whine.

“But I want to kiss him!”

“You will do all that and more, just get through this barbecue nonsense.”

You threw your head back, stomping on your foot like a spoiled kid and Kelsey let out a laugh.

“You’ll be fine,” she said. “Want me to tell Caleb?”

“When you get home, yes,” you said. “I can’t risk anyone hearing it, and the place is full of people.”

“Yeah, good call.”

“And assuming I won’t explode until everyone leaves…”

Kelsey grinned. “To repeat. You could handle seven years of bad sex, you can handle like seven hours until mindblowing sex.”

Your head shot up.

“Wait wait wait,” you said, your heart doing an excited flip. “Do you think he wants to sleep with me? Like, tonight? Because I’m like so so ready but would he want to?”

“No Birdie, once we all leave you guys will hold hands and recite poetry. The fuck do you think?!”

You started fanning your face again.

“I mean I—obviously I really really really like him but also I—I want to jump on him,” you stammered. “Like, both emotional and physical.”

“Shocking,” Kelsey stated. “The sky is blue. Water is wet. You want to fuck Bucky.”

“I mean if he does want to talk about his feelings I can—”

“I don’t think any man would want to talk about his feelings when you’re in that dress and ready to jump in his bed,” Kelsey motioned at you and you beamed at her.

“Aw thank you! I got it from—”

“You can send me the link later,” she said. “We should go before they realize we’re hiding in the bathroom.”

You nodded your head while she opened the door to check the hallway, then stepped outside with you following her suit.

“Remember,” she said. “You’re not doing anything while we’re here. Too risky.”

You nodded again and fixed your hair, letting out a breath.

“Yeah,” you said as you walked with her to the kitchen. “Yeah, of course. Shouldn’t be that hard.”

                                            *

Correction.

It was, in fact, that hard.

You couldn’t focus on a goddamn thing.

You were pretty sure that Bucky had told Sam because they were having a discussion in whispers at the corner of the garden while everyone drank and ate, and the only thing that pulled them out of it was Caleb when he wanted to take pictures with the whole team and Wilsons. You had taken a step in Bucky’s direction for the picture but Kelsey had pulled you to the other side of the crowd, muttering something about PR.

And throughout all that, it was as if you were in a haze.

Bucky’s eyes barely left you the whole day, though he hadn’t come closer to you like he wanted to give you your space to think about it. It was laughable to think he was under the impression that you wouldn’t throw yourself at him after months of pining after him, but Bucky could be very oblivious sometimes so you figured it was normal.

And you were still burning under his gaze, no matter how much you tried to act normal.

“So yeah, apparently Bucky winning gave Paul a huge leverage, just like the rest of us,” Tim said while you stole a look at Bucky who was chuckling at something Caleb said and Sarah let out a laugh, then said something while motioning at Bucky, making Caleb’s jaw drop as Bucky shook his head fervently like he was trying to convince him. “He got like a six figure deal for Senator Holloway’s next campaign. Anyways, I can barely talk to you during work nowadays.”

“Yeah, I’m like swamped with work,” you said, barely paying attention to Tim. “It’s fun but also very busy.”

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said, clearing his throat like he was trying to gather up courage while Bucky’s eyes found yours, awakening the butterflies in your stomach, a fire sweeping over your face. “Do you want to grab coffee sometime when you’re—”

“I’ll talk to you later, I just remembered an email I’m supposed to send Gray,” you said without so much as hearing what he was saying before you made your way back into the house so that you could calm down a little. You let out a breath and went into the kitchen to fill yourself a glass of water in hopes of helping the fire burning at the pit of your stomach. You took a huge gulp, then turned your head when you heard Cass saying your name from the doorframe.

“Hey,” you said with a small smile. “What’s up?”

“Um, can you help us with something?”

“Sure thing,” you said, following him to the living room and AJ gave you a shy smile, then pointed at the phonograph.

“Do you know if it works?”

“I think so.”

“Can we play it? I would ask uncle Bucky but he’s talking to mom and the other guests.”

“I don’t think Bucky would mind,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, then stepped closer to the phonograph. “Sure you can. Want me to help?”

“Yes please,” they both said, making you press a hand over your chest.

“You guys are like the sweetest kids in the world,” you said and sat down in front of the phonograph, tucked your legs under you, then pulled a couple of vinyl records from the shelf underneath it. “Do you have a favorite?”

AJ thought for a moment. “We don’t know any old singers.”

“That’s totally fine,” you said gently. “We can pick together then, and it’ll be a surprise to all of us. Exciting, isn’t it?”

They both nodded and sat down, and as if on cue, Alpine jumped from the couch to curl up next to you.

“Hi,” you said with a smile as you ran your fingers through her fur. “Alpine wants to listen to music too, I guess.”

Cass reached out to pet her while you put some of the records on the floor.

“Which one?” you asked them and they both turned their attention on the covers of the records with such serious expressions that one would think they were trying to decide on something incredibly important.

“Do you have a favorite?” Cass asked and you pretended to zip your mouth shut.

“I trust your judgment.”

They exchanged glances and Cass whispered something into AJ’s ear, making him frown before he nodded.

“Um,” he said and pointed at one of the records. “This one?”

“Whoa!” you said. “How did you guys know it’s my favorite?!”

Well, no.

Sinatra wasn’t your favorite, not by a long shot but they didn’t need to know that.

Their eyes shone with excitement and AJ grinned.

“Really?”

“Oh I’m like a huge fan of him,” you said. “Okay, let’s play him then. Who wants to do it?”

“We don’t know how to play it.”

“I’ll tell you. It’s very easy.”

Cass grabbed the record, then looked at you. “What if I break it or something?”

You shrugged your shoulders and dropped your voice like you were giving them a secret.

“I have the exact same record at home,” you whispered. “If you break it, I’ll replace it with mine, and Bucky won’t even notice.”

Cass giggled and pulled out the record out of the sleeve and you turned the phonograph on.

“Okay, you have to move the needle. AJ, can you do it?”

AJ nodded and moved the needle.

“And Cass, can you place the record over there?”

Cass did as you asked.

“And now, let’s put the needle here,” you muttered, reaching out to put the needle on the record, and the melody filled the room, making them gasp. The look of excitement on their faces was so sweet that you couldn’t help but laugh, then clasped your hands together.

“There you go!” you said. “Told you it was easy.”

“Um, how does it work?” AJ asked and you pointed at the record spinning on the player.

“So there are grooves on it,” you said. “On the vinyl. The needle follows—”

“Uncle Bucky!” Cass ran to the door and your heart skipped a beat, and you looked over your shoulder to see Bucky leaning to the doorframe, watching you with a soft light in his eyes. You tried to pull yourself together and cleared your throat, then motioned at the phonograph.

“I’m teaching them how to use it.”

“We picked her favorite record!”

“They’re way too smart,” you told Bucky as if giving him a secret and Bucky chuckled.

“Oh yeah, they are.”

“And then?” AJ insisted. “How does it turn into music?”

“So yeah, the needle!” You turned to the phonograph. “Okay, the needle follows those grooves. You see those?”

“Mm hm.”

“So the needle follows those to make the sound, and there are magnets in the phonograph,” you said. “Those magnets turn it into soundwaves, and then—”

“Uncle Bucky, she looks like a princess,” You heard Cass’s very loud whisper and you bit back a smile.

“She really does, buddy.” Bucky whispered back, making your cheeks burn and AJ rolled his eyes.

“Don’t mind him,” he told you in exasperation like this was a daily occurrence and you repressed a laugh.

“And then those soundwaves follow here, and tada! Music.”

“Because of magnets?”

“Magnets and soundwaves, yeah.”

“Whoa,” AJ said and turned to Bucky. “But Uncle Bucky, you do know you can listen to music on your phone now?”

“He’s old,” you told AJ, shooting a grin at Bucky. “Give him time, he doesn’t know half of the artists we listen to nowadays.”

“I’ll show you my favorite, come on!” AJ ran to him to pull him by the hand. “You’ll love it!”

“Buddy, can you give me a minute?” he asked without pulling his gaze off you and you shook your head and stood up, making Alpine let out a noise of discontent.

“No, come on!” AJ insisted. “It’s really good music!”

“That sounds important,” you said, while Cass nodded fervently. “Go.”

He looked like he wanted to argue but ended up letting AJ pull him out of the living room to the garden, Cass running after them. You looked down at Alpine who was blinking up at you, then leaned down to scratch at her head.

“It’s fine,” you muttered while she purred. “Patience is a virtue and all that.”

                                            *

You could swear time had decided to move extra slow today.

But it had done nothing to soothe the excitement pulsing through your system, if anything it heightened it.

Thankfully, people were leaving. Everyone was in a good mood, and it was Saturday evening, so you could hear the plans they were trying to decide on as they walked from the garden to the kitchen. You pushed up the sleeves of zip up hoodie Bucky had given you earlier today when you got cold and sat down on the stool, trying to act like your heart wasn’t beating in your throat.

“Bucky, are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

“Sam, you should join us!”

“I appreciate that Kelsey, but I am too old to go bar hopping with you guys.”

“That’s not even true! We only changed like four clubs the last time.”

“Exactly.”

“Miss Wilson?”

“Thank you Caleb, but what Sam said. And I gotta put the boys to bed.”

“Mom, can we go?”

“Nope.”

“Tim?”

“I’m down.”

“Lisa?”

“Oh for sure. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Birdie?”

 You lifted your eyes from the file in front of you.

“Bucky and I will work until late I think,” you said calmly, motioning at the rest of the files. “I’ll take an Uber. See you at home.”

You could see Bucky’s head snapping up like he wasn’t expecting you to stay, Sam and Sarah exchanging glances before they both smirked and Caleb frowned while Tim looked almost sad that you weren’t joining.

“Seriously?” Caleb asked. “It’s Saturday night.”

“And just because you don’t work doesn’t mean no one else can,” Kelsey said, grabbing him by the arm, and Caleb gasped.

“I have been working all day today, if you haven’t noticed—”

“See you guys!” Kelsey said as she dragged him out of the kitchen, Lisa, Tim, Sarah, Sam and the boys following them. Bucky walked them to the door, the chatter in the hallway continuing in full speed until the door opened, and then closed again.

Then, silence.

As silent as it could be with your heart pounding in your ears.

You slipped from the stool to lean your back against the kitchen island, trying to keep your breathing under control, squeezing the phone in your hand as you heard his footsteps coming closer until he appeared at the doorframe.

God, he was way too handsome.

You tried to swallow the nervousness tightening your throat as he took a step closer, putting his hands in his pockets.

“You didn’t leave.”

“Didn’t want to.”

His blue eyes searched your face as if he was trying to read your mind, making your heartbeat even faster.

“How long?” you managed to ask and he huffed out a curt laugh.

“For…” he trailed off. “Since I first saw you. Since you waltzed into the office with that huge folder and put it on my desk and said ‘Hi, you don’t know me yet but I figured out how to win this thing.”

A giggle bloomed in your mouth.

“But why wouldn’t you tell me?” you whispered, taking a step to him and he shook his head.

“You’ve been thinking about this just for a day, I’ve been thinking about this for a very…”

The rest of his sentence got lost somewhere as shock muffled your ears before realization crashed down on you.

…Oh.

Oh, Bucky actually thought—

He had no idea you stayed because you returned his feelings, he was under the impression that you stayed because you wanted him to explain. He actually thought today was the first time you thought about the possibility of you and him.

The idea was so absurd that you couldn’t help the exhale of disbelief leaving you.

“You think—” you cut him off. “Wait, Bucky…You—you think today is the first time I’ve thought about this?”

He looked like he didn’t know how to answer your question and a laugh climbed up your throat.

“Oh my God,” you whispered. “And I thought I was very obvious.”

He frowned slightly as you licked your lips, your stomach still fluttering.

“Ask me what my answer was.”

“To what?”

“The perfect world question,” you said with whatever courage you could pull from somewhere within you. “I know your answer but you don’t know mine. Ask.”

Bucky swallowed thickly, his voice low; “What was your answer?”

You could swear you were shaking, but by some miracle, when you spoke, your voice didn’t crack.

“The same as yours.”

The look of hope that dawned on his handsome face was so foreign that it took you by surprise. You hadn’t even seen it the night he won the election; he was happy then but this was something else. He took a step to close the distance between you, his flesh hand lifting a little so that he could cup your cheek, making your breath catch in your throat. His gaze slipped to your lips, then back at your eyes as if he was asking for your permission and you looked up at him, breathless with anticipation before you nodded. You could almost hear the crackling in the air, something electric between you coming to life, getting more and more intense—

Until his lips found yours.

This was different.

From all the times Max kissed you, or all the times you kissed guys before Max, none of it had ever been like this.

This was pure, unadulterated desire.

You could feel yourself melting in his arms as you lost yourself in his kiss, your fingers curling in his shirt just so that you could have an anchor, but a small whine escaping you when he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours, his breath caressing your lips. Your eyes fluttered open as he pulled down the zipper of the hoodie you were wearing over your sundress, his movements agonizingly slow like he was opening up a fragile present before he let it fall on the floor, desire making you dizzy. He dragged his fingertips down your arm, and gently pulled your phone out of your hand to put it aside just out of your reach, your head following the movement.

“Wait, I…” You tried to think through the haze. “I need that.”

“No.” Bucky’s voice was soft as he shook his head. “You don’t.”

You blinked up at him.

“What if—” you stammered, “what if while we’re not looking the world catches fire?”

A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he leaned in again. “Good. Let it burn.”

You were beginning to think no matter how close he was, it would never be enough with the way your body ached for him. He took your breath away when he kissed you again, his heart drumming under your hand, and he wrapped his arm around your waist to press your body closer to his, only pulling back to trail his thumb over your burning cheekbone.

“God…” he whispered in awe. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

The room was spinning.

You were on fire.

It had to be because of the fire that you didn’t even realize the words coming out of your mouth until you actually heard them:

“I love you.”

And everything went still.

Including him.

It was as if someone had just poured a bucket of ice water over you, your whole body stiffening the moment you realized what you had actually said. Your eyes snapped open, your breath catching in your throat as tears of frustration rushed to your eyes, and Bucky pulled back to see you better, a look of surprise etched on his handsome face.

Of course you had to ruin it.

“Sorry, I—sorry, I’m just—I’m gonna—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as you rushed past him to get to the hallway, leaving him in the kitchen completely frozen.

You were an idiot.

You just had to open your stupid mouth and ruin it.

You couldn’t even blame Bucky or anyone else. Hazel had a point, you were the starry-eyed idiot with a schoolgirl crush who couldn’t keep her fucking mouth shut just because he had kissed you.

You all but ran down the hallway to get to the front door but the minute you pulled it to yourself, you felt his presence behind you before he slammed the door close with enough force to shake it in its hinges, making you gasp in surprise.

This must’ve been how he was on missions.

No one heard him coming until it was too late.

If this were someone else—anyone else, you would’ve been petrified but even now, through the frustration and shock, your mind somehow knew that Bucky would rather cut off his own hand than hurt you. No part of him touched you, and for a moment he just stood there behind you, the warmth of his body nearly intoxicating until he broke the silence, his voice a low murmur.

“Did you mean it?”

“What does it matter?” You managed to rasp out. “I ruined it.”

“Birdie…”

“Listen, you’ll say it’s too much, I—I know, it’s fine.” You stumbled over your words. “You’ll have my resignation letter tonight, and Kelsey will pick up my things from the office. We don’t have to talk about any of this, just…” You wiped your eye with the back of your hand. “I ruined it, it’s fine, I’m just gonna go, okay?”

“You didn’t—” Bucky let out an impatient breath. “Sweetheart, can you just look at me please?”

You were pretty sure that if you saw the look of disappointment in his eyes, you were going to collapse on the floor and start sobbing but you sniffled, then turned around to look up at him.

That didn’t look like disappointment.

He lifted his hand to wipe at the tear under your eye with a soft smile.

“I’m not gonna say it’s too much.”

For some reason that remained a mystery to you, you jumped at the opportunity to convince him; “No you should say it’s too much because it is too much, because like I’d totally understand—”

You were cut off when he brushed his lips against yours, but this time it was way too gentle like he feared you would break if he so much as held you wrong. He pulled back to let you breathe since your nose was clogged because of the tears that kept coming, and your eyes fluttered open, confusion settling over your mind like a fog, engulfing all your thoughts in it.

What was happening?

Bucky’s eyes darted over your face, and he took a deep breath like he was nervous.

“I’m not good at this,” he muttered. “But I need you to listen to me, okay?”

You pulled your brows together and sniffled, then nodded.

“I…” he trailed off. “For the last what, 80 years now? Everything with HYDRA, and those missions and cryo, over and over again, it was all ice. That was the only permanent thing. Bone-chilling cold. And when I first came back, when I got my mind back, I kept wondering why I still felt so cold, like a part of me never really left there.”

You blinked back the tears, wiping at your nose.

“And eventually, I figured it would be like that for the rest of my life. No matter what I did, what I tried, it was yet another thing that I would never get back, something that HYDRA carved into me. I got all of it out of my mind but I couldn’t get that…that chill out of my chest.” He paused for a moment and breathed out a curt laugh like he was lost in the memory, his brows furrowing.

“Until you came along,” he said, his voice a mere whisper. “And brought the warmth with you.”

You didn’t even notice the tears were back until Bucky wiped under your eye with a knuckle, trailing your cheekbone.

“I’m not gonna say it’s too much,” he told you. “I can’t. I love you too.”

…Oh.

Bucky—

Bucky loved you.

He actually loved you.

You stared up at him in complete silence as Bucky reached behind you, and you heard the unmistakable sound of the door opening before he stepped back, a shadow playing in his eyes like he was preparing for the pain, like he expected you to somehow reach into his chest to rip out his heart and walk out, leaving him with ice in his chest again.

“I’m not gonna do anything you don’t want me to,” he said. “Including keeping you here. I just needed you to know, that’s it.”

This had to be the third time he gave you a way out today, and each time it felt more and more insane to even think you would walk away.

A small sob climbed your throat, disbelief making you let out a teary laugh before you grabbed the door handle, pushed the door close, then flung yourself into his arms to pull him into a kiss. Your head was spinning, you were breathless, your heart felt like it was trying to climb out of your ribcage but none of that was enough to make you stop kissing him. He leaned down to snake his vibranium arm behind your thighs to lift you up like you weighed nothing, making you let out a squeal that soon turned into a giggle as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you to the room at the other end of the hallway which turned out to be his bedroom, not pulling back from your kiss as if it would somehow break the spell until he carefully laid you down on the bed, settling between your legs. You tugged at his shirt with shaky hands and he pulled it off his head to throw it somewhere in the room, and you had only a couple of seconds to drink in the sight of his muscular torso before his lips found yours again. You trailed your fingertips down his chest to his abs and tried to unbuckle his belt but he pulled back, making you chase his lips with an impatient whine.

“Birdie—hey,” he whispered, his warm hand cupping your cheek as your eyes fluttered open, your heart beating in your ears. “Slow, okay darling?”

You tried to catch your breath, confusion pinching your brows together. No one had ever asked you to be slower about anything in your entire life; on the contrary, you were either pushed or convinced to be faster, to rush, to get it over with, whatever it was.

In or outside the bed.

“I, um…” You tried to find your voice through the fog of desire, looking up at him as he stroked your burning cheek while you played with his dog tags. “I don’t—I don’t know how to do things slow. I think.”

You could see that fond light glimmering in his blue eyes even in the dimly lit room.

“That’s okay,” he murmured, his vibranium fingertips running up and down your leg, waking goosebumps on your skin. “I’ll teach you how.”

This was new.

And way too unfamiliar.

And for once, your brain couldn’t think, not when he was looking at you like that, touching you like that.

“And you don’t—” You paused, but somehow Bucky didn’t seem annoyed by you trying to wrap your mind around the idea. Instead he waited patiently like he had all the time in the world, like there was nothing more important than what you were about to say. “You sure you don’t want to be fast to…”

For fuck’s sake, it was so hard to produce a single thought when he was half naked on top of you.

“To do what, beautiful?” he asked softly, nudging your nose with his, coaxing a giggle out of you while you trailed your fingertips over his muscular back.

“To do something else?” you said, what Max would always say when you were in bed flashing through your mind. “To—to work?”

He looked almost at a loss for words at the mere suggestion but he seemed to pull himself together much faster than you, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.

“Birdie,” he murmured and dipped his head to kiss your neck, his hand pushing the hem of your dress up your legs, making your eyes flutter close. “I cannot even begin to tell you how much we won’t work tonight.”

[a-bit-of-writing]

24/30 - Blush

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Characters: Astarion x Reader (Female)

Words: 996

Summary: You only wanted a pear. Astarion, of course, made it about you blushing. 

notes: I’m making a collection out of these Astarion x Reader pieces. You can read the first one here -> Negotiate.

Dawn had only just powdered the treetops in rose‑gold when you padded into the clearing, determined to claim breakfast before the others stirred. Gale’s snore rumbled somewhere behind a canvas flap; Lae’zel muttered guttural insults in her sleep. The camp was blissfully yours.

Almost.

Because a white‑haired devil lounged beside the provisions basket like a dragon on its hoard, ankles crossed, fingers laced behind his head, smirk bright enough to rival sunrise.

Of course.

You cocked an eyebrow. “You’re up early.”

“Technically I’m up late, my sweet,” Astarion purred, stretching with feline grace. The motion set his silken shirt gaping wider, pale chest gleaming where two buttons had mysteriously vanished. “The night and I were having such a lovely time I couldn’t bear to part ways.”

“Mm‑hmm.” You crouched by the basket and spotted it: one perfect pear, skin flushed with gold and green, dewdrops still clinging like tiny diamonds. A rare treasure after days of trail rations.

You lifted it carefully.

Astarion’s eyes locked onto the fruit with predatory focus. “I do hope you intend to ask permission.”

“From whom?”

“From its rightful owner, darling. Me.”

You snorted. “Since when do you own the camp’s food?”

“Since I laid an elegant, discerning eye on it last night and declared, ‘That beauty is mine.’” He rose in a languid glide, closing the distance until his voice brushed your ear. “Besides, we both know I have impeccable taste.”

“Please.” You tried to sidestep; he matched you, a waltz without music. The pear sat cool and heavy in your palm - suddenly precious, suddenly bargaining chip.

“What will you give me,” he whispered, “to taste my pear?”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks - swift, traitorous. Of course he noticed; he noticed everything.

Astarion’s crimson gaze glittered. “Oh, there it is. The delightful rush of pink.” He clucked his tongue. “You are way too cute when you blush.”

“I’m not blushing,” you lied, hopelessly.

“Lies, lies, delicious lies.” He leaned forward until a silver strand of hair tickled your cheek. “Careful, love. Keep turning that charming shade and I’ll be forced to write sonnets. Very bad sonnets. The kind that rhyme love with dove.”

“That should be illegal.”

“Oh, it is. But I’m a criminal in so many delightful ways.” His smile curved razor‑sharp. “So, what will you trade?”

You swallowed. “What do you want?”

“Surprise me.” He folded his arms, biceps flexing beneath torn silk. “A secret. A confession. A dare. Something with… flavor.”

You weighed possibilities - and the pear - then exhaled. “Fine. I’ll give you something no one else here knows.”

“Scandalous already.”

You cleared your throat. “When I was twelve, I stole candles from the temple archive so I could read adventure tales after curfew.” A shy laugh escaped. “I hid them under my mattress for months before anyone noticed.”

Astarion blinked, genuine, momentary startle. “You little renegade.” Then his grin returned, wider. “Breaking commandments for literature? Positively sinful.”

“Happy?”

“Ecstatic but I think I deserve visual evidence.” He plucked the pear from your hand before you could react, then rolled it between long fingers, inspecting. “Mm. Smooth. Firm. Juicy.” His eyes flicked to yours. “Reminds me of someone.”

You laughed despite yourself. “You compare me to fruit now?”

“Only the finest.” His thumb stroked the pear’s curve with slow, suggestive care. “Look, she blushes deeper.” He sighed, mock‑smitten. “Honestly, darling, if you keep coloring like that, I’ll have to ask Shadowheart for smelling salts.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Hardly. Your pulse is racing.” He tapped two fingers against your wrist - soft, testing. “See?”

Lightning shot to your skin. You yanked your hand back. “Stop that.”

He chuckled. “Why should I? I quite enjoy seeing you unravel.” Biting lightly into the pear, he let juice run down the corner of his mouth - then caught it with a slow swipe of tongue. “Mmm. Divine.”

You averted your gaze. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Doing what?” He took another bite, lips glistening. “Do enlighten me.”

“Being obscene.”

“Obscene? Darling, this is breakfast.” He offered the pear, half‑devoured. “Care for a taste?”

You hesitated. His eyes dared you. Crimson crescents bright with mischief and something hotter. To refuse felt cowardly; to accept felt like stepping onto a blade. So you lifted it to your lips and bit where his mouth had been moments before.

The pear burst sweet on your tongue - sugar and wine. His gaze never left your mouth.

“How is it?” he breathed.

“Good.” You swallowed thickly. “Very… good.”

“‘Good,’ they say.” He tutted. “That’s hardly worthy of poetry.” He leaned close again, voice velvety. “Tell me, did you taste a hint of me? I promise, I’m even sweeter.”

“You’re impossible.”

He laughed, satisfied. “And you, little candle‑thief, are intoxicating.” He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear—fingertips chill, feather‑light. “I should warn you: if you continue blushing like that, someone less chivalrous might take advantage.”

“Chivalrous?” you scoffed.

“Well.” His grin flashed fang. “Chivalrous enough not to steal more than a pear at dawn.” He stepped back, theatrically bowing. “For now.”

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The morning smelled of dew and pear juice and danger disguised as laughter.

Suddenly he tossed the fruit high; you caught it by reflex.

“Keep it,” he said, straightening, voice softer - the faintest crack in the performance. “A souvenir of my generosity.” Then the mask returned. “But remember: every bite binds you deeper into my scandalous poetry cycle. Expect sonnets by supper.”

“Ghastly,” you teased.

“Glorious,” he corrected.

You turned to leave, yet glanced back. Astarion watched you with unreadable eyes, as if committing every blush, every stutter, to memory. For all his flair, the silence between you pulsed with something fragile - electric - real.

You raised the pear in salute. “Thank you.”

His smile gentled, just for a breath. “My pleasure… and soon, perhaps, my privilege.”

You walked away with cheeks on fire, heartbeat drum‑loud, pear juice sticky on your fingers—and the sneaking suspicion that somewhere between candlelit pages and stolen dawns, you had become as priceless to him as any forbidden fruit.

[doctorho]

dripping velvet, purring dark

Academy era Viktor x fem! curvy reader, 4.5k, no warnings only love in this house (ok there is a conversation about some people being idiots which can be interpreted as the reader getting unwanted attention at a party but it's nothing graphic or anything i promise and no-one is mean to her) also i made viktor horny and slightly subby because that's what the gremlins in my brain wanted. you're welcome. yeah! hi! not sure what this is, but here you go. the reader is described as she/her here (and curvy, and soft, and she is wearing an evening gown, because i wanted to think about pretty dresses). idk. have a thing. happy friday.

Viktor likes to think of himself as a person who's usually capable of focusing on things pretty well. On the task at hand. Give him a faulty circuit and he'll poke at it long enough to find the broken component, no problem. An error in the calculations? He'll find that missing minus sign or forgotten exponent, easy. He'll strip a wire in his sleep.

The task at hand now, though? The problem?

He had to sit through a whole evening of presentations at the academy end-of-year party, put on a polite face for the investors, and pretend not to care that one idiot after another was lining up to flirt with you while he was watching from the sidelines. You were wearing a dress that felt sinful to look at, and there was something primitive gnawing at the inside of his chest begging to be let out, and he had to just stand there and nod through the conversations, pretend he wasn't slowly boiling from the inside out.

And he was failing miserably. 

He’d known he was in trouble from the moment he saw you that night – all expensive fabric covering smooth curves and soft-looking skin, sparkling eyes and easy smiles, and he’d been done for. Before this, it’d been much easier to compartmentalize his feelings; before this, it'd been easier to ignore them. 

Before he’d kept his distance, emotionally and physically speaking, because, well, it’d been easier. He'd seen you around the Academy, all bubbling laughs and raw-honest radiant smiles and confident solutions, and he'd known that you looked…appealing, but he wasn't in the habit of holding up any illusions about what you might think of him in return. His place was in the dark dusty corner of the lab, turning over the ever-ticking problems, while you were out there shining like the sun. And sometimes you came by the lab, with new ideas or suggestions or just to borrow some equipment or ask about a shipment, and he had resigned to his role of staying at his desk pretending he wasn't burning to be closer to your orbit. 

But when he sees you in the low lighting of the party, leaning to the bar and laughing, something just breaks in him. And then he can’t pretend to ignore it any longer. And sure, maybe he’s a little bit drunk, it was easier to stand these events that way, but it still feels like a solid-honest truth in his bones that he wanted to get closer to you, and suddenly he couldn’t stand the conversation he was in the middle of. Because one of them – the sour idiots he’d catalogued in his head for the whole night, the stupid people trying to impress you with their embellished stories and inherited wealth who weren’t worth your time – one of them was circling you like a hyena again, smiling.

You were wearing a dark, floor-length gown that wasn’t, on a purely technical level, much different from what about 50% of the other guests were wearing. However, it seemed to create a significant caveat that even though there wasn’t anything indecent in the dress itself, seeing it on you made him feel like maybe he shouldn’t look at you for too long or he might spontaneously combust. There was a slit on the side that revealed a more than generous amount of leg when you walked, and his focus kept wandering from that to your silhouette, the soft curve of your hips, your chest, your face – no, that’s worse, don’t stare, she'll notice – and truly, he had to force himself to keep his eyes at least vaguely on the vicinity of the person who was currently talking to him. Something about statistics and return investment. Yes. 

He nods, pretending to look interested.

The dress drapes over your hips in soft little cascades, the fabric shimmering lightly as you moved, and something in his brain was itching, begging to run his fingers over it, to know what it feels like, to know what you feel like under it, all soft and warm and pliable under his fingers, and preferably sighing something into the crook of his neck, and–

“We'd like to get our investment back within a year,” the guy that's talking to him says – Viktor can't even remember his name, and he doesn’t really even care – and he just shifts his eyes back to the guy slowly. 

“A year?” he repeats, with the barest amount of feigned interest, and the guy goes off in a whole new tangent. Viktor shifts his posture, and lets his eyes glide over to where you were again. 

One of those idiots, one he thankfully doesn’t have the displeasure of knowing personally but who must be the son of some crooked diplomat, says something to you and you scoff through a smile, roll your eyes, and lean further into the counter at the bar. Viktor has to pretend to be present for his own conversation – yes, the new coating material for the wires was more heat-resistant, no, there was still the issue of mechanical stress, they were working on it – and you say something in answer to the current idiot (third of the night, he’d counted), and it is killing him that he doesn’t know what it is. 

You’d turned down the first two, from what he could tell. But this latest idiot was still talking to you, like he was in any way entitled to your company. And it's making something inside Viktor raise its hackles, and he doesn’t especially like feeling like that, because he couldn't justify feeling like that to himself in any tangible way, and then it all just boiled down to a resigned even if she deserves better than that i have no business dictating that for her. 

He's just about to focus on the conversation he was supposedly participating in again when something happens. He can't make out the details, but imbecile number three seems to lean way too close to you, says something, and smiles in a way that makes something cold creep down the back of Viktor's neck. And your expression coldens, too, and you say something to him, and turn away, more rigid than you'd been the whole evening. 

“Excuse me,” Viktor is saying to the Investment Guy before he can fully think it through, his own voice feeling distant in his ears, and then he's walking to the bar. 

You're alone – the idiot had had the sense to leave you alone quickly, at least. That's good. Viktor isn't sure what he's doing, but then he's leaning to the bar next to you and ordering another drink and trying to look like he isn't thinking too hard about what to do next. 

“Whatever he just proposed to you,” Viktor says slowly, looking over the bar instead of directly at you, “I assure you you can do better.”

He can hear you take a deep breath, shift a little, and sigh it out with what sounded like almost a laugh. 

“Yeah,” you agree, “I don't know what it is about people like that that makes them think they can just…” You sigh again, and make a hand gesture towards the room. ”You know.”

“Unfortunately,” he answers, resigned, “yes. I do.” 

He gets his drink and thanks the bartender, and then leans to the counter too, mimicking your posture, holding the drink and letting it swirl around in his glass. “Have you talked with anyone actually worth your time tonight?” 

You hmm. Then, “there was a little girl earlier that told me some fascinating things about insect metamorphosis.” You say casually. 

And Viktor laughs. Without meaning to, he laughs, and you smile in response, visibly relaxing a little.

“I don't think she was on the guest list though.” You continue. 

He hums in response, and rearranges his grip on the handle of his cane. “Sounds much more interesting than the conversations I've been in tonight.”

“I know,” you answer, and he can hear the smile in your voice, “you think we could swap out one of the main speakers with her?” 

He hmms again, looking over the stage thoughtfully. “I think it would count as a public service,” he nods a little, considering the list of speakers yet to come, “what do you think, who'd be a good target?”

You shift in your place, looking over the same list of speakers, plastered over the walls on both sides of the stage. “The financial talk,” you answer, “Mr. Ross. I'd much rather listen to insect facts than another boring talk about investing.”

Viktor nods. “You distract him, I'll whack him unconscious?” he offers, and you laugh. You laugh, and it warms something in him. 

“And then what?” you continue, still smiling, and he has to look away to keep his composure. 

He shrugs. “Eh,” he answers, “we drag him to a bathtub somewhere and act like he just passed out there?" He shrugs, "I happen to know three ways to get out of this room that I'm pretty sure we could use unnoticed.”

“Uh-huh,” you answer, “and then we just find the girl and ask her if she wants to talk about bugs for half an hour. Easy.”

“Exactly,” he agrees, “and then we congratulate ourselves for making the evening better for everybody.”

"Except maybe Mr. Ross."

"No," he counters, looking over the crowd, "I think he would prefer a nice little nap. Surely not even he wants to hear himself talk all the time." He takes a sip of his drink, "and I think waking up in a bathtub would be a nice change of pace to the rumors of other places he seems to have a habit of waking up in after events such as these."

“Good point,” you shift in your place, settling to lean to the counter a bit closer to him. “Perfect plan. But why'd you get to whack him unconscious and not me?”

Viktor blinks. Lifts one eyebrow. “Because you are by far more distracting than I am,” he answers, “and I thought the plan could use the distraction.”

“I don't think that's true,” you answer, “I think you're plenty distracting on your own.”

Now, he lets himself look at you. Really, properly look at you, and not even half-trying to hide it. You're smiling now, shoulders relaxed, holding your drink with fingers wrapped loosely around it, and in the warm lights of the bar there's a golden glow on your skin, and something breathless at the bottom of his stomach is aching to get closer to you, to touch you, to see if his hand would fit on your waist as well as he thinks it would, to see how you would react to that, if he could make you smile in a different way, what sounds he could get you to make for him–

“Agree to disagree,” he says, averts his eyes, and takes a sip of his drink. 

Tries to tell that wild-hungry purring thing in him to behave. 

Someone reasonable comes to talk to you – and it's about work, which is…something, probably, he has to stop himself from thinking it's better than those earlier idiots, because who's he to decide that for you? He gives you a casual wave and a nod as you depart with a smile and get swept up in the conversation about new ideas and solutions and this-new-thing you've been looking at. And he watches as you start talking excitedly, all golden and glittering, easy conversation and confident smiles, and quietly (not-so quietly) he concludes that maybe you hadn't had many worthwhile conversations with any of the guests that night because you were the most worthwhile person in there to talk to. 

He stays there sipping his drink and wondering what would be the closest appropriate time to slip out. He'd made an appearance, and technically nothing could be expected from him beyond that point. Sure, Jayce might tell him he could've stayed a bit longer, he could use the support, but nothing dramatic would happen. 

The party drones on, and he makes no effort to move – and really, he tries not to think about it too much, but that was at least in part because he wanted to keep looking at you. He promptly ignores this, even when you're laughing at something someone else said and that heavy-dark-purring something at the bottom of his stomach doesn't like it very much. 

Someone comes to ask for his opinion on something, and with a tiny sigh, he lets them pull him into the loop of conversations again. Yes, we are trying to simplify the design, no we can't cut back from the materials, they are what they are for a reason. 

Somewhere around his third ‘Why would you think that?’ of that particular conversation, he's had enough. People were stupid, and he's had enough. He's just trying to come up with ways to get out of the conversation preferably without starting a scandal of some sort, when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turns around to look at who it belongs to, and then everything in his head is quiet for a moment. 

“Hey,” you say, smiling, “sorry to interrupt, but can I steal you away for a moment?” you ask, slipping your hand feather-light down his arm, and he has to suppress a shiver. 

Viktor furrows his brows and opens his mouth, and then, like an idiot, says nothing. But he turns to leave, thankful for the window of opportunity.  

“You remember that thing we talked about before?” you continue as you steer him away from the earlier group smoothly, “I found someone who's interested in those three escape routes you had up your sleeve.” 

“Who?” he asks, because that's the only thing he can think of. You've linked your arm with his, and you're leaning on him, and you're soft and warm and you smell good, and he doesn’t trust his ability to form a full sentence. 

“Me,” you answer, “and judging by how you just looked out there,” you continue, “you.”

Viktor swallows, and something in him purrs at the idea. 

“This way,” he says, nodding towards an old stage exit, and honestly, he doesn’t even care why you want to leave, he's just grateful for the distraction and the company and drinking in every warm square inch of skin contact that you're willing to give him, even if it is just walking with your shoulder pressed against his. 

If it turned out to be a plot where you actually wanted to whack someone unconscious, he'd worry about that later. For now he was just happy to leave, and happier that you were leaving with him. 

It's easy to slip away from the crowd, and into the space between the stage curtain and the wall, if you know where you're going. You effortlessly fall a bit further from his side but keep his hand on yours, letting him pull you along, and quietly he wonders how and why and holy shit. He decides not to question it though, and keeps walking through the dim space between the cold old wall and the cascades of warm heavy velvet curtains. 

“Do you want to leave the party,” he asks, voice quiet now that the background buzz of people was muffled by the curtain, “or just get away from it?” 

You hmm behind him, clearly through a smile, and he makes the mistake of looking back at you. Surrounded by the dark red velvet curtains and only slivers of light from each side, his head – and the rest of his body – get entirely the wrong idea of what you're doing in there, because you look like a goddess in the small dim space, and he might crumble into ashes if he keeps looking at you, or he might do something stupid like pull you closer and press you into the wall, to see if your eyes would widen, if you'd gasp from the cold wall, if he could find other ways to make you gasp–

so he turns his eyes away and keeps talking. 

He quickly finds he has to clear his throat before he can do that. “There is a staff entrance that goes past the kitchen a little ways further,” he says, and motions forwards, “or there is a disused indoor balcony surrounding the stage. You would be able to see the party, but it'd feel…removed.”

You lean closer, close enough that when your voice is muffled by the surrounding velvet, it feels like you're speaking right in his ear, and he has to swallow and remind himself that that's just situational coincidence, nothing more. 

“Why do you know so many ways to get out of here?” you ask, “You sneak out a lot?” 

“I am a fan of interesting architecture,” he answers, “and not as much a fan of pretentious social gatherings.” 

“Fair,” you answer, then lean your chin on his shoulder, and he feels like his spine might spontaneously melt. “In your expertise, what would you recommend?”

“Well,” he says, trying to make it sound casual and like he wasn't breathless at all, “I think the balcony has some fairly interesting architecture.” And the lights of the party would look pretty from there. And you'd both get a breather away from the crowd. And he'd get to keep talking to you a little bit longer. And, as selfish as the thought felt, he couldn't deny it; he'd get to keep having you to himself for a little bit longer. 

“Show me the balcony,” you smile, and he obliges. Happily, he obliges. So he pulls you into a narrow staircase, and then, up. 

At the end of it there is a room that could, only by technical definition alone, be called a balcony – it was more like a hole carved into the wall, having at some point been used for seating or equipment space at events and concerts, and now just served as half-forgotten extra storage. It had, he supposed, once upon a time looked like the banquet hall did, all smooth surfaces and warm lights and thematically switched-out decorations, but now it was mostly the standard red velvet and dark wood and light marble, forgotten by the party and some of the golden light from the hall spilling into it by pure coincidence. There were velvet curtains on each side of the room, and you drop his hand to go look over the railing, and down at the party. 

His hand instantly feels cold without yours in it, but he tries his best to ignore this, and follows you to look down at the party, too. 

It looks much smaller from up there. Less chaotic. 

“I didn't know there was a space like this here.” You say quietly, “can they see us?” 

“Part of the design,” he answers, “you're not supposed to notice these spaces unless people want you to. Good place to hide extra orchestra pieces and make it feel like the sound is coming from nowhere. And–” he looks over at the people, colorful and mingling, “no, they can't. Not unless you want them to.” Then, he smiles, just a little. “But they'll be able to hear us, if we direct our voices upwards and wait for things to quiet down there first.”

You turn to look at him. 

“Sloped ceilings,” he explains with a shrug, “again, good for a hidden orchestra accompaniment.” 

“But they can't hear us talking?*

“Not over themselves,” he answers, “ironic, I know.”

You hum thoughtfully and turn around, with your back to the railing, and then you look at him and he needs to kick his brain back in line. You were gorgeous in the dim lighting, all relaxed and smiling, and–

He grips the handle of his cane a little tighter. 

“Good,” you say, and the way you say it – all quiet and warm and liquid – makes something in him purr again, entirely against his better judgement. 

“Why is it good?” he asks, because he has to hold on to some semblance of logic here, because otherwise he might just vaporize out into the atmosphere. 

“Why do you think?” you ask, slowly turning to face him, and oh that just isn't fair. You're just there, just a warm breath of space away, all soft and pretty and languid–

He doesn’t know what to say, so he goes with what feels like the safest course of action. 

“In case we want to plot any more ways to violently derail the evening's program?”

You exhale a small laugh and lean back. 

And then you lift a hand on his chest, and he's pretty sure his heart might be overheating soon. 

“Sure,” you answer, “that.” You inch closer, and Viktor is having a hard time remembering how to breathe. “Or anything else we might not want them overhearing.”

“Like?” He exhales, careful not to break the moment, and then you smile, warm and private and for him, and his insides liquify into warm, honey-thick goo, and oh, he’s not going to recover from this. 

“Like,” you repeat slowly, and then you push yourself away from the balcony railing, just slightly, into the side of the wall covered by the velvet curtain, and he lets you pull him with you, he's not stupid. His brain – along with the rest of his body – might be in the process of actively melting, but he's not stupid. If you wanted to pull him into a shadowed, velvet-covered corner, he would follow no questions asked, especially on a night like this when his insides were buzzing and you looked like that. When you looked at him like that. You smile again, and stop moving when your back hits a wall, and then you pull him just close enough to whisper into his ear. “...Anything else we might not want them overhearing.” you repeat, and, yeah, Viktor is close to becoming the best documented case of human combustion in recorded history. 

In the dim lighting, he searches your eyes into his, and you watch him, waiting, radiating heat between him and the velvet-covered wall. He's not sure why you were acting like this, but all signs were pointing towards you wanting the same thing he did, and he's not sure what he did to get this lucky, but with his every cell buzzing and vibrating and keening over to get closer, he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass. 

He wants to ask ‘why me’ or ‘are you sure’ but what comes out is a broken, desperate whisper of a “can I touch you?”, and you answer with a grin and with your fingers tangled to the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“Yes,” you breathe, “please.”

And really, he wouldn't have thought it would be so simple, but it's the please that does him in – just one whispered word and his brain short-circuits in an overflowing flash of white-hot need. Need to trigger that again, need to please, and need to finally give in to the pleasure waiting to boil. And then it all comes rushing out; the hunger. 

His hands are on your waist in an instant, and his cane clatters to the ground as he leans his weight on you and the wall and for a moment, he has the sense to hope the curtains don't come tumbling down, and they don't, which is good enough for him, because then he can let go of that particular worry and focus solely on finding your lips to his and making the most of every second of this that you're willing to give him. 

The sensations hit his brain like flashes of bright light; how soft you are under his fingers, like he'd hoped, the fabric smooth and silky, giving away easily under his touch. How warm you are, warm and breathing in a fluttered little gasp, the dusty old velvet mixing in with your sweet scent, and then when he gets his lips on you–

After that it's just golden-dark-velvet-honey-thick bliss. You breathe out a small sound that drips down his spinal cord and goes straight to the purring pit at the bottom of his stomach, and he swallows it with a hungry, greedy, desperate groan that comes from somewhere deep inside his chest, and his head is swimming with warm and real and soft and for me–

He is happily overloading his brain with this, and he doesn’t even care. He presses closer to you and you exhale another sweet little sound that makes him bare his teeth, and then his lips are on your neck and he doesn’t know anything except that he wants you to keep making those sounds and he likes the way your hands tangle in his hair and tug. 

“Tell me what you want,” he mutters to the skin of your neck, pulling you closer by the waist, and absolutely relishing in the way your chest rises and falls with short little pants he can hear you take in and out. In and out, and as he tugs at your waist again, just a bit closer, and drags his teeth against your pulse lightly, one of those exhales turns into a sweet little whine. 

He grins against your skin. 

He doesn’t waste the time or energy pretending he isn't an absolute mess over you, right now – his own breathing ragged and fast and his heart hammering in his ears, his whole body buzzing with want – but that didn't mean seeing you react that way didn't make him want to purr. 

Didn't make his insides heat up with I did that. I got her like this. She made that sound for me. For me. It's mine. 

You take a breath, slow and rugged, and then you tug him towards one of the velvet-covered seats. And he moves like he's floating, letting you guide him, because what else is he going to do? You tug him into the seat and he sits on it, gladly, and stays there looking up at you with his eyes wide and only half-lidded and his heart hammering, waiting for more. 

You give him another one of those small, private, knowing smiles, your eyes hazy, and then you step to stand right in front of him. 

And then you hover over him, just waiting for him to pull you into his lap. He does, because he is selfish and greedy and burning, and he's pretty sure he's going to implode if he doesn’t get that delicious pressure on him soon, and his hand fits your waist perfectly, and then when when you do straddle him, your hips pressing down on his, he whines. He lets out a breathless little whine, he can feel it in the base of his spine, and it makes that hunger in him want more. 

“Only the voices directed upwards travel down there, right?” you ask, voice quiet and dripping right into his ear and pooling at the bottom of his stomach. 

He swallows. “Yes.” 

You hum thoughtfully, and press your body closer to his, all soft and warm and perfect, sinking your lips down to his neck and he shivers, instinctually tilting back his head with a sigh, exposing more of his neck to you. 

“Better keep quiet, then.” 

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 7

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Also Retconning from Nesta's Spring Birthday to like late November, just because otherwise my plot doesn't work.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Sky had kinda waited for the two of them to have screeching arguments…as soon as the happy bubble of a new mating bond fell away. 

But…nothing of that sort had happened.

“Let’s just keep it just for us for a little while,” he had whispered and she had agreed, curled up in his arms. Just them.

Just for a little while. Nobody else’s opinion did really matter after all. And she knew that there would be numerous opinion be had about the fact that hse had met her mate and then moved in with him in the span of less than a day…and that the two of them were utterly and deliriously happy since then. 

Just the two of them - at least for a little while longer. Sky knew that they would have to tell their friends and family eventually, that they couldn't stay in their little bubble forever, but she was in no rush. The world could wait. For now, she was perfectly content to just be with Azriel.

And they didn’t fight. About anything. 

It was...weird. 

She was waiting for arguments. She was waiting for screaming and to be told that she wasn’t enough…for him to finally realie that he had made a grave mistake…but nothing happened. 

He didn’t care that she stuffed all his bookcases with her books…or rather that his shadows did, painstakingly replicating the order she had had in her little apartment. 

Azriel even made nice with Hector and bought him tuna, jut for her sake…

She had caught Azriel and Hector curled up on the couch together last week - Azriel reading a book and Hector sprawled on his lap. She'd stared at them for a long moment. He had let Hector drool all over his shirt. Azriel had looked up at her with a sheepish grin when he noticed her staring. "He's very cuddly," he'd said, as if that was all the explanation that was needed.

Sky had just laughed, shaking her head as she made her way over to them, sitting down next to Azriel. She had rested her head on his shoulder, reaching out to pet the cat. Hector purred loudly in approval, nudging his head against Sky's hand, and she couldn't help but smile.

Azriel kept odd hours for his work, sometimes disappearing in the middle of the night or coming home then too…but Sky did too, so it didn’t bother her.

He always made time for her - making them breakfast or bringing her coffee or leaving little notes for her. 

And she horded it all away like a dragon did with it’s hoard, wanting to enjoy that just a little while longer. 

Sky made sure to do the same for him. She knew he never slept much, so she always left a cup of tea by his bed if he was late in returning, and always left some food for him… She found him a new salve for the scars on his hand, massaging it in with all the patience in the world when he admitted to her that the muscles and joints hurt as it got colder… She bought him sweets from the same little shop in the Rainbow she got her own stash of caramel candies from… She wanted to take care of him, even if she knew Azriel would never ask for it.

She loved the way he held her, as if he would never let her go. She loved the way he whispered her name as he kissed down her body, and the way he held her once they were finished, his wings wrapping around them and cocooning her in warmth. Sky had never imagined that she could be loved like this, but Azriel made her feel like she was the most precious thing in the world.

And if Azriel wasn’t there…the shadows were.

They had become her constant companions - sliding beneath doors and around walls and windows, following her through the house. At first, the shadows had been startling, but she had quickly grown used to them - they seemed to relish draping themselves over her, wrapping around her wrists, her ankles, her shoulders. The shadows would stroke at her face and whisper her name, and Sky had taken to speaking to them as well, asking them about Azriel or if they could bring her things or fetch Hector.

It was...nice not being alone anymore. Sky had never realized how lonely she had been in her little apartment, but now that she had the shadows - and Azriel - she didn’t want to go back. She loved the way the shadows seemed to watch over her, always present even if Azriel was not. And in their own way, the shadows cared for her too, always there to provide a steadying or comforting presence - or to bring her a cup of tea, or fetch her a book she needed for research...

And besides, the shadows were much better at moving furniture than Sky was. She had quickly learned that if she needed something rearranged or moved and Azriel was not around to do it, the shadows were more than happy to help.

But most of all, the shadows had come to represent Azriel to her - they were always with her, always watching over her, and she knew that even if Azriel could not be there, the shadows would always look out for her. They would keep her safe. 

It was a strange and unexpected sense of comfort, but Sky had come to cherish it. She never felt truly alone anymore, not with the shadows constantly at her back, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

And if Azriel was there…well.

The sex was better than anything she had ever imagined.

Sometimes she woke up to him between her thighs, right in the middle of throes of her pleasure, her whole body still heavy with sleep and drenched with wetness. 

He made her feel wanted, desired in a way that she had never experienced before. He never tired of her, always wanting to be close her, and she never tired of him. Every touch felt like a new discovery, and Sky was learning Azriel’s body like she had never learned anything else in her life, learning what made him moan and tremble and beg for more. She loved the way he touched her, the way he kissed her, and the way he whispered her name as he moved inside her.

But it wasn't just about the physical pleasure.

After sex…when it was just the two of them curled up in their bed, his wings wrapped around her, his head bedded on body more often than not…they talked. A truth for a truth.

She learned more about him. About his horrible sweet tooth. About the scars that covered his hands…she had traced them one evening and he had looked at her…looked at her in wonder.

He opened up to her about so many things, telling her stories from his childhood, about the horrors of the war, and about his family. Sky listened to all of it, her heart breaking for all the pain and suffering he had endured, and vowing to spend the rest of her life making him happy. And in turn, she shared her own stories with him, telling him things she had never told anyone else. It felt...good to let go of all the secrets and burdens she had carried for so long, and to know that Azriel was there to listen and to understand.

He never once cared about her stuttering. Never once rushed her.

Though she could feel… she felt so safe with him…that the stutter eased. Still there but sometimes she could go whole sentences without stuttering once..

Azriel was always patient with her, letting her take her time when she needed it, and never making her feel rushed. And to her surprise, her stutter had eased, bit by bit.

It was a strange feeling, not having to struggle through every word, to speak without fear of being judged or laughed at. And Azriel never drew attention to it, never made her feel as if she was something to be pitied or fixed. He just accepted her for who she was - stutter and all.

Sky was…so very grateful for that. She could trust Azriel with her deepest fears and insecurities, and he would always be there for her, supporting her and encouraging her. And in turn, she would do the same for him.

Being with him was so easy.

So easy, and so natural. It felt like they had been together for years, not just weeks. She couldn't imagine her life without Azriel, and she never wanted to. He made her laugh, and he made her feel loved and he wanted her.

That was probably the most startling thing.  

Sky was working on her desk, that overlooked the lake, while Azriel preferred to work upstairs in his office, and a cup of tea was gently put down next to her, a kiss pressed against the crown of her head. She couldn’t help but lean back into him with a happy sigh, tipping up her head, turning towards Azriel and letting him kiss her properly.

“Sky?” He asked softly as she leaned into the touch of the hand on her shoulder.

She hummed in answer.

“Isn’t one of your books coming out soon?” Azriel asked her softly.

“In three weeks, just in time for winter solstice shopping,” Sky answered absentmindedly. “Why?”

Azriel was quiet for a moment, his hand still resting on her shoulder. "How high are the chances that I could…have an early copy?" Azriel asked, sounding nearly hesitant.

Sky turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. "You want an early copy of my book?" she asked, curious. Azriel's nod was immediate. A slow smile spread across Sky's face. "You want to read it?” she asked him hesitantly. He wanted to read her book? 

“I do want to read it. And I also have a friend who adores your books and her birthday is coming up…” Azriel said softly. “She’s important to me. Like a little sister. Her name is Nesta. And I think she may be your biggest fan.”

Sky blinked in surprise, touched by Azriel's words. She knew how much Azriel cared about his family, and to hear him describe Nesta as a little sister was...well, it was sweet. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride knowing that her books had made such an impression on someone so important to him.

She opened the drawer of her desk and pulled out one of the dozen or so she had stashed in there. At his surprised look she just shrugged. “I always get a few from the first print run,” she said drily.

Azriel took the book from her hands, his gaze softening as he looked down at the cover. "Thank you," he said quietly, his fingers tracing over the embossed title of the book. "I know she'll love it."

“Just tell her to please not let the newspaper get their hands on it,” Sky said drily, making him laugh. 

“She’ll protect this book fiercely,” he told her sagely. “Would you…sign it?” Azriel asked her. 

Sky hesitated. She had never once signed any of her books. Had never written the name Sellyn Drake as an autograph. 

But for Azriel...she could do it. For Nesta. 

So she took the book back, dipped her quill in her ink, flicking it off twice, and then wrote a short message to Nesta - wishing her a happy birthday and hoping that she enjoyed the book. 

Sky signed Sellyn Drake at the bottom, the movement feeling surprisingly natural… and felt strangely vulnerable as she handed the book back to Azriel.

Azriel looked down at the inscription, reading it over carefully before looking back at Sky. "Thank you," he said again, his voice soft and tender. "This means a lot to me, and to her."

Sky felt a warm glow settle over her, and she knew in that moment that she would do anything for Azriel. Anything to make him happy.

“You are very welcome,” she said simply.

He leaned down and kissed her, and Sky melted into the kiss, wrapping her arms around Azriel's neck and pulling him closer. For a moment, the world outside their little bubble of happiness seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them.

***

“It seems like we need to come to some sort of agreement,” Azriel said tightly.

Hector the cat was staring at him with one eye and doing his best to intimidate him into life-long obedience, from where he was sitting in front of Azriel, who was sitting on the couch. 

"I am not going to stop sleeping in Sky's bed," he told the cat, crossing his arms. "I am not going to stop cuddling with her." Hector hissed at him in response, clearly not a fan of the fact that Azriel was going to stick around. 

It was a potential problem. Azriel glared at the ugly cat.

If it even was a cat. Sometimes he wasn't quite sure. Maybe it was a stunted Mountain Lion. It was quite big for a normal cat. And uglier than that.

"You know, I am not above pretending to be allergic to you," he told the cat drily. Especially if Hector kept scratching him.

Hector shot him a disdainful look, clearly not worried. And then swiped out a paw to smack at Azriel's naked feet, claws carefully withdrawn. 

Azriel scowled down at the cat. "You're lucky Sky loves you so much," he muttered, glaring at Hector.

"We can agree to get along. I'll buy you that ridiculous expensive Tuna you like and you can come join us when we cuddle on the couch. Or we can draw a line in the sand and see who comes out on top." Azriel raised an eyebrow.

Drily he reflected that this was how far he had come. Trying to bargain with the ugliest cat he had ever seen.

Hector stared back at him for a moment, before finally letting out a "Meow" as if to say, "Fine, fine, you can stay - for now." 

Azriel let out a sigh of relief, glad that the cat had finally agreed to some sort of truce. And he knew that Sky would be happy too - she loved that mangly cat more than anything. So he would put up with Hector - for Sky's sake.

Hector smacked him on the arm and crawled into his lap.

Azriel hesitantly petted his head. “You do realize you weigh a ton, right?” he told the cat drily.

Sky had told him that he had been all skin and bones when she had found him. Yeah, that was definitely no longer true.

Hector rolled over on his back, demanding belly rubs.

Azriel sighed, shaking his head as he reluctantly obliged, rubbing Hector's belly, where the cat’s fur was patchy. 

 Azriel couldn't deny that the cat was oddly endearing, even if he would never admit it out loud. And as Hector purred contentedly in his lap, Azriel couldn't help but smile.

Maybe he could put up with this cat after all. For Sky's sake, of course.

Just for Sky. 

Just for Sky's sake, he bought the cat ridiculous expensive treats, a scratching post and toys.

And he found that, as the weeks went on, he didn't mind as much when Hector would jump into bed with them in the middle of the night, curling up next to Sky. Or when he would bat at Azriel's toes while he read.

Nobody ever needed to know when he asked Gwyn to help him find some books about cats and their proper nourishment and exercise.

"Thank you," he thanked the red headed priestess when she handed him a whole stack of them at the end of their next private dagger lesson.

"No, thank you.  Finally I can pay you back for all the dagger lessons," Gwyn said with a bright grin. "Are you...Are you thinking about adopting a cat?" she asked him curiously.

"No. A friend did," he answered truthfully.

"Making nice with it then?" Gwyn asked him and he sighed.

"I am pretty sure the cat plots my murder on a daily basis," he answered only half joking.

Gwyn laughed, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Have you tried giving it treats?" Gwyn suggested helpfully.

Azriel opened his mouth to respond but at that moment, Rhys landed just a few feet away. Probably training with Cassian early in the morning, before they did their usual training with the priestesses and Valkyries.

"I even bought him ridiculously overpriced, fresh tuna," he admitted drily, making her laugh.

"Good luck with your bribes," Gwyn said with another laugh. "See you later, shadowsinger," she said with a wave over her shoulder. Azriel looked after her for a moment and then passed over to one of the weapon racks, starting his usual inspection.

"Dagger Lessons?" Rhys asked him, as he crossed over to him. 

"Yes," Azriel agreed. He could hear the inflection in Rhys' voice, a lilting question. He didn't even want to know what Rhys was thinking.

"Just With Gwyn?" Rhys asked, tone still carefully neutral.

Azriel sighed, turning to face his friend. "Yes, just with Gwyn," he confirmed. Azriel kept his tone neutral, almost indifferent.

Azriel went back to his dagger inspection, keeping his mind focused on the task at hand.

He could feel Rhys's eyes on him, but he didn't waver. He knew his brother well enough to know that Rhys was trying to get a reaction out of him. And je wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Azriel didn't need to wait long. He could feel the talons of Rhys' daemati powers scratch against his mental shields just moments later. He let him in with a sigh. Was he officially going to get warned off Gwyn as well? 

Apparently Azriel was.

*If you want more from her, don't you dare pressuring her,* Rhys snapped into his mind.

Azriel nearly started to bristle. He wondered if Rhys even thought about how much of an insult it was. Ever thought of what it meant that he thought that Azriel would pressure Gwyn in anything she didn’t want. 

But he just answered flatly. *Then it will calm you to know that I couldn't possibly be less interested in Gwyn romantically.*

Maybe in another life. But not in this one.

*So what, you'll keep yearning after Elain?* Rhys asked him sharply.

Azriel looked up from the daggers, fixing Rhys with a glare.

*I behave. That's what you want. What I do or don't feel outside of that is none of your business,* Azriel gave back.

He was sick of this. Sick of Rhys treating him like he was some kind of reckless child who couldn't be trusted to make his own decisions. 

*I'll behave. As I always do.* He repeated that with more force, his glare hardening.

And as a side note, I am perfectly capable of handling my own feelings, Rhys. I don't need your interference.

The words hung in the air between them, sharp and pointed.

Azriel held Rhys's gaze for a beat longer, then turned back to the daggers. But he could feel the tension between them, the unspoken words that still hovered in the air.

He was so fucking done with Rhys’ meddling. Or with his brother not trusting him to handle his own feelings like an adult. 

*Oh really?* Rhys crossed his arms, wings spreading wide at his back. *How long have you been pining after Elain, knowing damn well that it would only bring you misery?*

It was a punch beneath what was appropriate. Both knew it.

But AZriel couldn't even fucking care at that moment.

He slammed down the mental walls, forcing Rhys out of his mind immediately.

Quite frankly, he hadn't thought about Elain once after Sky and him had accepted the mating bond. He hadn't fucking cared anymore.

 Elain could do whatever she wanted. So could Mor.  Azriel was kinda busy with doting on his mate.

Sky mattered. 

Sky actually wanted him around. Sky liked him enough to let him share her bed and curl around her and had not once flinched away from his shadows. 

Rhys could say and do whatever he wanted but he was not getting near Sky. 

"Good Morning!" At least Cassian was in a good mood.

Azriel barely acknowledged Cassian's cheerful greeting, his mind still reeling from his confrontation with Rhys. He wasn't in the mood to banter or make small talk. But Cassian, being Cassian, didn't seem to pick up on the tension in the air.

He plopped down on the ground beside Azriel, stretching out his wings lazily.

"What's got you brooding?" Cassian asked, eyeing Azriel curiously.

"Still figuring out Nesta's birthday gift," he said drily. It wasn't even a lie.

Cassian sighed.  "Good luck with that, brother. Nes can be quite the challenge to please," he said with a groan. "I still have no idea what to get her and I am her mate. I thought I would get her a new book but the only one she is interested in at the moment is the next Sellyn Drake book and that's not out for 3 weeks," Cassian complained.

Huh.

It seemed like Cassian may have just solved Azriel’s own gift debacle.

How high were the chances that he could talk Sky into giving him an early peek at her newest book?

Apparently it was as simple as asking. She gave it to him without hesitation, with a smile and he loved her just a little bit more just for that.

And he did love her. So fucking much.

It was so easy to be with her. So easy.

Azriel had never felt like this with anyone before. It was effortless to be with her, to be himself around her. She never expected anything from him, never pushed him to be someone he wasn't. She saw him for who he was, and accepted him completely.

She even accepted the shadows.

Azriel knew that the shadows were a part of him, and he had always been conscious of the way they might make people uncomfortable. But with Sky, it was different. She didn't shy away from them or make him feel like he needed to hide them from her. She even seemed to find a certain beauty in them.

She never flinched away, even when the shadows whispered against her skin...even when they touched her.

It was as if, for the first time, the shadows were not something to be feared or loathed. They were simply just a part of him, and she accepted them as such. She never asked him to change or try to control them, and it was a freedom he had never experienced before.

And quite frankly...he would rather stay with her, in their house and let himself be bullied by her cat that to sit through another family dinner.

But he did it. Just for Nesta. It was her birthday after all.

It wasn't going to be that bad. Probably.

He would just remind himself of who was waiting for him at home. That made it easy. 

And it wasn't even that bad. It could be worse.

Rhys even left him alone, mostly because Azriel did his best to stay away from Mor and Elain and Gwyn and Rhys himself for good measure, which left him with the conversation partners of Amren and Varian...and then he just needed to stay silent and let his mind wander to the feeling of Sky's hands when she scratched his scalp...the way she snuggled up to him in her sleep...to the freckles that covered her face...Azriel let his mind drift to thoughts of Sky as he sat at dinner, choosing to ignore the others' conversation. 

He knew that Rhys was probably watching him with a smug look on his face, probably thinking that Azriel was thinking of Elain instead. But Azriel didn't care. He was content in his thoughts of Sky.

Finally, they were handing gifts to Nesta, which meant that the evening was coming to an end.

Thank the cauldron for that. 

Azriel watched as Nesta unwrapped gifts from the others: jewelry from Amren, a painting of Velaris from Feyre…

“Happy Birthday,” Azriel told her softly as he handed her his gift.

“Thank you,” Nesta told him graciously, smiling at him. “Oh, chocolate!” He couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm at the bag of chocolate candies that was tied to her gift with ribbon. 

Azriel smiled, watching as Nesta excitedly tore open the bag of chocolate candies that he had bought her…Sky and him had taken an ambling walk through Velaris one afternoon, ending near the rainbow in a tiny candy shop where his mate procured her caramel candies from and he had picked them up for Nesta. 

Well, that and a few different ones to try for him and Sky.

He was just glad that Nesta seemed to like it. And then Nesta unwrapped the book.

“Cassian said you were very excited to finally read it,” he told her drily. Nesta flipped it over, eyes devouring the title.

“HOW?!” She demanded, her voice half a screech. A far cry from how composed and quiet she usually was. “How did you get it?!?” And then she was already moving to hug him fiercely, pressing a kiss against his cheek. Azriel chuckled, giving her a quick hug back. He was glad that she seemed to like his gift so much.

"Cassian let it slip that you were interested in the new Sellyn Drake book, so I thought I'd pull some strings and get you an early copy," he explained. "Happy Birthday, Nesta."

“What kind of fucking strings did you pull?!” Cassian complained pouting. “I went to every bookstore in Velaris and none could get it to me earlier than in three weeks.” 

Azriel couldn’t help but smirk at Cassian's complaint. "You know me, Cassian. I have my ways," he drawled. "Maybe you just need to expand your network."

“You had the shadows steal it, didn’t you?” Cassian asked him with a glare. Azriel couldn’t help but snort.

“No, I asked Sellyn Drake to give it to me and she did,” he said drily. “Though I'm sure Nesta couldn't care less how I got the book, as long as she gets to read it."

“Oh, I do care.” Nesta assured him immediately. “You asked Sellyn Drake? Nobody knows who she is! You know her? How? When? Why?”

Azriel chuckled, amused by Nesta's rapid-fire questions. "Yes, I know Sellyn Drake. I asked her for a favor, and she obliged. Simple as that. As for the why, well, I knew how badly you wanted to read her new novel, so I thought it would be a nice surprise for your birthday,” he told her easily, smiling softly at Azriel. 

Cassian still looked suspicious, eyeing Azriel with a critical eye. "You asked the author herself to give you an early copy of her book? Just like that?" he asked skeptically.

“Just like that,” Azriel said calmly.

“So she actually exists?” Gwynn asked him curiously, everybody turned to stare at her. “What?! You know I had my theory!”

“Gwyn’s theory is that Sellyn Drake isn’t one single person, but instead a whole group of incredible talented authors,” Nesta said with a grin.

"Oh, she definitely exists. I can vouch for that. She’s very sweet,” Azriel told Nesta simply, who opened her book, hungrily opening the front pages…

“…this is signed,” Nesta breathed. “Sellyn Drake knows my name.” 

He was pretty sure that he had heard religious people sound less worshipping than Nesta did at that moment. 

For just a moment he wanted to think about how it would be for Nesta and Sky to meet, but he forced himself not to. Not where Rhys could snap that up. 

“What?! No way!” Emerie exclaimed, clambering to take a look at the book. “Cauldron boil me.” She breathed.

“There isn’t a single signed Sellyn Drake book!” Gwyn exclaimed. 

Azriel couldn't help but chuckle at the others’ reactions. "Well, I guess that makes this a pretty special gift then," he said simply, sipping his wine with a satisfied smile.

“Very special,” Nesta told him softly, looking at him wideyed. “This is…This is incredible, Az.” 

Azriel merely inclined his head, accepting the comment. “I’m glad "It's not often that I can surprise someone who's as hard to impress as you are."

Nesta gave him a playful swat on the arm. "You know I'm not that hard to please," she told him. "You just have to know me well enough to know what I want. And apparently you do. Thank you.”

[monserelates]

Moment of Truth ; James Potter

⇨ james potter x f! reader

⇨ idiots in love | mutual pining | enemies-to-friends-to-mutual-pining | accidental confession

⇨ summary: When Y/N and James accidentally drink Veritaserum - courtesy of Sirius Black, what can happen?

⇨ content warnings: use of y/n, mild swearing, Sirius being a menace, cursing (probably), I dont know what elsee

There were precisely three things Y/N L/N hated about Potions class:

1. The smell of over-boiled flobberworms.

2. Slughorn’s terrifyingly accurate matchmaking instincts.

3. Being paired with James Potter.

Especially that one.

She slammed her textbook on the shared desk with the kind of finality usually reserved for war declarations. “If you get me hexed today, Potter, I swear—”

“Oh, please,” James drawled, already lounging on the stool like he owned the place. “If I recall correctly, last time you were the one who set our cauldron on fire.”

“That was your idea!”

“Technicalities, darling.”

Y/N glared at him. He winked. Marlene, three desks over, leaned in to whisper something to Lily that made the redhead stifle a snort. Y/N didn’t need to ask what it was. Everyone—and she meant everyone—thought she and James were secretly in love.

Everyone was wrong.

(Probably)

Slughorn clapped his pudgy hands at the front of the classroom. “Today’s assignment, my dears! You’ll be brewing a Calming Draught with a twist. Additions are encouraged. Creativity is rewarded!”

Sirius Black immediately perked up. “Creativity, you say?”

James didn’t even look. “No.”

“Not talking to you, Prongs. I’m talking to our mutual friend, Chaos.”

“You named your cauldron Chaos?” Remus asked, exasperated.

Sirius grinned. “No. I named me Chaos.”

“Oh, good,” Y/N muttered. “That bodes well.”

⸻

The potion assignment started fine. Relatively.

Y/N was grinding lavender petals with more aggression than necessary while James tried (and failed) to measure ingredients with something resembling focus.

“Don’t stir counterclockwise,” she snapped. “You’ll make it unstable.”

“I am unstable,” James said with a dramatic sigh, “but thanks for your concern.”

Y/N shot him a look. “Are you ever serious?”

“No. But he is.” James pointed at Sirius.

A beat.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

She definitely did. Or at least she wanted to. Maybe. Probably. It was hard to tell when his hair curled like that at the ends and he smelled like broom polish and cinnamon.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Sirius tiptoeing toward their cauldron like a cartoon villain.

“Sirius,” she said without turning, “step away from the cauldron.”

He gasped. “How did she know?”

Remus groaned, dragging him back by the collar, but not before Sirius dropped something into the cauldron. A tiny vial, quickly hidden.

“Black!” Y/N snapped. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing! Just a little… seasoning.”

“Seasoning,” James repeated flatly.

Sirius beamed. “Trust me. It’ll be hilarious.”

⸻

Forty minutes later, the potion shimmered an alarming shade of blue. Somehow, it was still… fine?

Y/N raised a suspicious brow.

Then Slughorn’s voice boomed across the dungeon.

"Let's make this interesting," Slughorn purred, eyes twinkling like a man who knew exactly what Sirius had done and wasn’t about to stop it. “Miss McKinnon, a few harmless questions, if you would?

Y/N froze. “Test it? Like drink it?”

James was already standing. “You heard the man, L/N. Let’s do science.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He grinned. “An idiot with charisma.”

She wanted to smack him. Or kiss him. It was getting harder to tell the difference lately.

Reluctantly, she followed him to the front. They each took a small vial and filled it with the glistening potion.

“Bottoms up,” James said.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “If I die, I’m haunting your toilet.”

James winked. “Romantic.”

They drank.

The room held its breath.

Nothing happened.

Then—

Slughorn, ever the showman, clapped his hands. “Let’s make this interesting. Miss McKinnon, ask them a few harmless questions, won’t you?”

Marlene stood, wicked smile spreading. “Gladly.”

⸻

It started innocently.

“What’s your full name?”

“James Fleamont Potter,” he said automatically.

“Y/N Y/M/N L/N,” she answered with a shrug.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Red,” James said. “Specifically when she wears it.” He pointed at Y/N.

Y/N blinked. “Excuse me?”

The class giggled. Lily leaned forward, eyes wide. “What’s going on?”

“Wait,” whispered Remus. “Did Sirius…?”

“Oh, hell,” muttered Peter.

Marlene, sensing opportunity, leaned in. “Do you fancy anyone?”

James didn’t hesitate. “Y/N.”

Y/N choked.

The words hit her like a misfired hex—slow, confusing, impossible to dodge. Her ears rang. Her heart stopped. He wasn’t joking. He hadn’t blinked. He wasn’t even smirking. James Potter had just said he fancied her. Out loud. In public. Like it was obvious. Like it was nothing. Like it meant everything.

The room erupted in noise.

“WHAT?” Sirius shouted, looking way too pleased with himself.

James tilted his head, confused. “What?”

“You—you just—” Y/N sputtered.

“You asked if I fancied anyone,” James said slowly, as if explaining it to a child. “I said yes. I fancy you.”

“I—What—You—What the fuck?!”

“Language,” Slughorn chided, entirely unbothered.

Marlene was cackling. “Okay, next question. Y/N, do you fancy James?”

Y/N opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“…Yes,” she whispered.

Silence.

“I KNEW IT!” Lily screamed.

Remus passed Sirius a Galleon without breaking eye contact.

Sirius, gleeful, blew them both a kiss.

Y/N looked like she wanted the ground to open and swallow her whole.

James looked like Christmas had come early.

“I’m going to kill Sirius,” she muttered.

“Get in line,” Remus sighed.

⸻

The potion wore off five minutes later, but the damage was done.

Y/N bolted the moment class ended. James hesitated, then ran after her.

He found her in the empty corridor outside the Potions dungeon, pacing like a storm cloud.

“Y/N—”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t try to make this a joke.”

“I’m not joking,” he said, serious now. “Not even a little.”

She froze. Her voice was small. “You really meant it?”

He stepped closer. “Every word. Even the part about the red jumper.”

She laughed—just once—and then turned away. “I didn’t want to say it. I didn’t mean to say it.”

“It was Veritaserum.”

“I know,” she snapped. “That’s the problem. I meant it too.”

He was silent for a beat. Then, softly: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you’re you, James. Everyone’s in love with you. I didn’t want to be another girl throwing herself at you.”

“You’re not,” he said fiercely. “You’re the one I wanted. The only one.”

Silence fell again.

“Ever since you hexed me for calling you babe,” he added, smiling slightly.

“I’ll do it again,” she warned, but her voice cracked.

He stepped close enough to brush her hair from her face. “You’ve been in my head since third year.”

“James—”

“I’m not saying this because of the potion. I’m saying it because I’ve been waiting for the right moment, and apparently Sirius doesn’t believe in subtlety.”

She laughed again, watery this time.

And then she kissed him.

It was slightly clumsy, a little desperate, and full of all the words they hadn’t said—but it was perfect.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and stunned, James whispered, “So… does this mean we’re dating?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered, eyes searching his face.

He tucked her hair behind her ear, voice low. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Y/N looked up, eyes still glassy. “Only if you stop calling me ‘darling.’”

“Deal,” he grinned. “How about ‘love of my life’?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

She did. She really, really did.

⸻

They walked back to the common room hand-in-hand.

Inside, chaos.

Remus and Sirius were arguing about the payout of their “will-they-won’t-they” betting pool. Peter was counting coins. Lily was still screaming.

Slughorn sent them a congratulatory owl later that evening, complete with chocolate and a note that read:

“About time, my dears.”

James kept the note.

Y/N hexed Sirius into a cupboard the next day.

James didn’t even complain.

She was still the most frustrating person he’d ever met.

But now he got to kiss her after she insulted him.

It was the best week of his life.

In the staff room, tucked behind a stack of enchanted files and a suspiciously animated portrait of a weeping badger, a large corkboard was glowing faintly.

The headline, spelled out in glittering gold thread:

❝Staff Predictions: Potter & L/N (a.k.a. The Disaster Duo)❞

Below it were dozens of slips of parchment, pinned with varying levels of smugness.

Minerva McGonagall’s elegant cursive sat in the “November” column, annotated with a tiny “Eventually, she’ll hex him and kiss him in the same day.”

Filius Flitwick had scribbled “Before Halloween—young love is impulsive!” complete with a stick-figure doodle of the pair bickering mid-hug.

Even Hagrid had scrawled something barely readable that included the words “terri'fyin’ chemistry” and “bless ‘em.”

But it was Professor Sinistra who stepped into the room now, still wearing her Astronomy robes and holding a cup of cocoa.

She eyed the corkboard, then smiled.

“They kissed,” she announced, casually as if commenting on the weather.

There was a beat of stunned silence—then a flurry of movement.

McGonagall looked up from her papers with a proud hum. “About time.”

Sprout slammed her mug on the table. “I was one week off!”

Binns floated through a wall muttering, “I had money on her storming out of Christmas dinner first.”

Slughorn burst through the door moments later, waving a chocolate-stained napkin. “Confirmed! I got a firsthand report from Marlene McKinnon. They’re holding hands, Minerva. Holding hands!”

McGonagall raised a single brow. “Did anyone inform the Board of Magical Misconduct we’re running an illegal relationship gambling ring on school grounds?”

Professor Blackwood, lurking like a shadow in the corner, sneered. “It’s barely illegal. It’s pathetic.”

“You lost the last pool, didn’t you?” Flitwick chirped, not looking up from where he was adjusting the enchanted countdown clock above the board, which now read:

“JAMES & Y/N — OFFICIALLY TOGETHER — 0 days, 0 hours, 13 minutes.”

Blackwood scowled and disappeared into his cloak like a disappointed bat.

Trelawney floated in late, peered at the glowing board, and whispered, “Ah yes. The stars align. Their souls were always fated to combust.”

Slughorn beamed. “I knew it! My Calming Draught Chaos Twist was inspired. I’ll need to write this down—perhaps an essay for Witch Weekly. Or a dramatic retelling for the next Slug Club dinner.”

From the window, an enchanted quill updated the scoreboard:

Total Winnings: 243 Galleons

Next Bet Pool: “When Will They Admit It to Themselves?” (Deadline: Midnight Tomorrow)

McGonagall sighed deeply and sipped her tea.

“I give it until breakfast,” she murmured.

And from the magical board, a tiny voice whispered smugly:

“Told you they’d kiss before October.”

taglist: @strlightfilms @glittervame

[reveluving]

till kingdom come; bucky barnes x reader

summary: the missus comes home to her two, oddly identical needy sweethearts.

warnings: implied s~mut (minors DNI!), sweet & touchy Bucky (established relationship), Reader can be an Avenger/with a Z or a standalone vigilante (also your choice if she has powers or not!), loads of Alpine moment because we love the dear girl, loads of bantering, not much Thunderbolts* spoilers I think!

a/n: brought to you by @navybrat817 because 'a kindred spirit' just warmed my soul from the inside out, and this was kinda inspired by her fic, was gonna make it a s~mut but I blanked out at the end. STILL, I am so willing to hear all the spicy details you might've imagined them doing (literally desperate), so don't be shy on me!! please enjoy, take care & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

fancy reading something new? check out my full m.list!

» implied s~mut includes: desperate & touchy Bucky tearing your top off and touching your tits, because he needs you so :((

'The sight that never failed to cause a stutter in his heart, the butterflies in his stomach, however one could describe their beloved, even if words failed to express their very being.' ;

Seeing Alpine after a day's work, or in this case, weeks' worth of work, was always a soothing balm to your soul, and the same could be said for the white feline.

Her tail standing up straight, almost doing her little signature 'tippy-taps' on the foyer floor as she greeted you at the door, staring up at you with her bright blue eyes.

"Hello," You greeted with a lilt upon closing the door behind you, placing your bag down to lift the sweet girl in your arms, "How's my silly lil' girl?" 

Alpine let out a little 'mrrp!', kneading at your top.

“Yeah? Were you behaving for daddy dearest?” You asked with the name you knew Bucky pretended not to like, as if you wouldn't catch the little tug at the corner of his lips each time you would use it.

Alpine tilted her head, the cutie, as if taking a playful offence for even asking her that.

“You're right, you're always behaving, aren't you? Unlike him.” You teased, bringing her close to your face.

Immediately, the sweet cat nuzzled into your face like it was her only chance. Purring up a storm and tickling your nose to ensure you really had her scent, especially considering how long you have been away.

“Oh, I know, I missed you, too,” You cooed, nuzzling back and letting the ball of fluff heal you inside out with her motorboat purrs the same way you would ease her mind with your presence, “Sweet girl, best girl!”

You both are.

Bucky thought to himself, having heard your return, your little tease of calling him ‘daddy dearest’, and your little reunion of snuggles and kisses with the feline.

As much as it pained him not to move from the kitchen to shower you with all the love and yearning he had within him, no matter the number of calls you had had, Alpine was faster, taking advantage of him, also putting away the confidential documents here and there as he ate.

One could say she technically cheated, having waited in the foyer for your return after overhearing Bucky's call with you.

In her mind, Bucky's mood lifting and eyes lighting up more than the usual calls he has had equals her mother's return. 

Smart kitty, after all.

And, well, who was Bucky to get in the way of his favourite girls’ reunion?

Not especially with the airplane ears and the swipes of her paws at him at every given moment, the man she was adopted by was nowhere close to you. 

She, for the most part, was being playful, but one could also say she made a good argument with her occasional crab walking at him for ‘ruining the moment’.

“Alright, pretty girl, let's go see how he's doing. Lead the way!” You placed her down, and like a soldier on duty, she took the lead, striding into the kitchen where Bucky was.

There, entering through the doorway after the feline, was none other than the woman of his life. 

The sight that never failed to cause a stutter in his heart, the butterflies in his stomach, however one could describe their beloved, even if words failed to express their very being.

“Congressman Barnes.” You smiled in a faux sickeningly sweet manner, playfully fluttering your lashes at the man who had taken his suit and dress shirt off, leaving him in his undershirt and slacks.

He fondly scoffed, but his legs were moving, crossing the room and pulling you to his chest with his right arm.

“Hi.” You greeted once more, unable to help the chuckle that left your lips, granting you the sight of him softening more than he already had when you walked in, smiling down at you.

“Hi, yourself,” He responded, his voice low like it was intimate, and truth be told, it was. Always been, be it at home or in public. It was always just you and him, “Al first, huh?”

“She was at the door first.” You justified without missing a beat.

“Heard our call, she knew.” He argued, having the audacity to pout, even if it was subtle.

“Excuses, excuses.” You tutted, “And I called you. Guess she missed me more.”

He shut you up by latching his lips onto your neck, forcing out a giggle that bubbled in your throat shortly after a gasp.

“Buck, c’mon, I need a shower!” You wiggled, finding it impossible even for a man who didn’t have his Vibranium arm at the moment.

“Excuses, excuses.” He echoed, and you could practically feel the smile against your shoulder as he tickled your skin with his heavy stubble.

He peppered your skin with kisses, from your shoulder up to your neck and jaw, before tilting your head up, caressing your chin as he stared down at you with a loving look.

Returning the smile, you kissed his thumb, moving off his hold when he had loosened a tad despite his huff of protest. Opening the dishwasher, you reached for the Vibranium arm and then the clean kitchen cloth with the other hand.

“I sincerely hope you cleaned all the gunk or dirt out before you decided to use our dishwasher like a laundry service.” You jested, wiping off the extra condensate before helping him put it on. He let you, his heart fluttering each time you did without question, before giving the limb a good swing.

“Sounds like someone doesn’t have good faith in me.” He mused aloud, taking the opportunity to pull you in once more.

“I’m just reminding.” You shrugged, lightly drumming your fingers on his clothed chest.

Truly, besides the… Odd events with the ‘Avengerz with a Z’, there was never a dull moment with you, in or out of gear.

“Sure,” Resting his forehead against yours, one arm around you and the other rubbing up and down your back, he murmured, “And for the record, I missed you more.” 

Oh, and Alpine took offence to that. 

Clearly, given the immediate ‘airplane mode’ in her ears as she listened on and stayed around on the kitchen island near the spread of Mexican food takeaway, but the feline of mischief had a plan.

She toddled out of the kitchen, and you both knew she was up to something. You and Bucky shared a look, and while it took a moment, the second he heard a rustle of clothes in the laundry room, he stiffened.

“Al, Al–!” He began, panic beneath the firm tone, only to shut up when she returned. returned with the pristine white dress shirt he had tossed in the laundry basket after a little accident.

“Bucky! Again?” You gaped, reaching for the shirt to inspect the stain near the buttonholes, “First pizza, now, what tacos?”

He dared to give you what one would’ve described as a meek, ‘boxy’ grin.

“I–It just happened,” He reasoned lamely, though it was mostly true, “When you called.”

“Which… was an hour ago.” You raised a brow. 

Well.

“I was going to get it off, honest,” He persisted, playfully narrowing his eyes at Alpine, who, in her feline way, looked all too proud to throw him under the bus, “And the call was forty-two minutes ago. I counted, and I got most of it off under running water.”

You weren’t sure why it dawned upon you then, but it did, adding, “Your arm’s not in the dishwasher because of work.”

But because of the damn sauce.

“Bucky!” You playfully nudged his side, your smile widening because you knew you had him figured out, all thanks to his ‘trusty sidekick’.

“I had it under control,” He groaned, but despite it all, he knew that you knew he would’ve gotten it taken care of. You just love to give him shit, the same way he loved pretending to whine and give faux, lame excuses to see you smile, and when he did see it, he squeezed you tighter, closer, “I’m doing my best ‘round here.”

You snorted, watching him reach for a nacho, loaded with proteins and fat, all the good stuff for nights like these.

“Open.” He commanded, his tone lighter, just like his demeanour since you were back home.

“Is this bribery?” You grinned.

“Would you say no to this bribery?” He argued back with an equally lighthearted tone.

Touché.

You shared a laugh, having a little dinner party with the three of you, your own family, each of you deserving one another like the next. Food was leagues better than what you had to settle for, given either a time crunch or lack of accessibility, your not-so-humble abode was still the embodiment of warmth and homey, and nothing could beat the company you could come home to.

Like Bucky, Alpine remained glued to your side, taking little chances to paw at your hand for a pat or a kiss on the head, and when the reunion dimmed down, she figured she was satisfied with all the attention she received from you, akin to making sure you were truly alive and well.

Bucky insisted on getting the dish washed and the laundry cleaned up, both his stained dress shirt and your set of clothes from your trip, considering you had just returned after a few long weeks. How you were able to convince him otherwise, opting for the laundry while he dealt with the dishes, was beyond him, but you always had a way to do so.

You carried Alpine to the cat tower in the living room, giving her a few last goodnight kisses before watching her curl up in a ball.

Not too long after, you carried your bag, along with Bucky's shirt, to the laundry room, your senses immediately met with the familiar scents lingering. The warm white light only added to the calming feeling as you separated the necessary, opting to wash the lighter ones first in hopes that the stain would be gone as much as possible.

In the midst of your little chore, you heard footsteps approaching. You weren't alarmed—they were familiar—nor did you turn around as Bucky embraced you from behind.

His hands roamed ever so slowly, nosing the sensitive area between your neck and shoulder.

“Might wanna take these off…” He murmured, tugging at the hem of your top.

You chuckled, not fully realizing the sheer desperation within him, “In a bit, Buck.”

But, oh, he was insistent.

“Take it off.” He muttered against your skin once more, his hands slipping under your top.

Your breath hitched, turning your head to see his eyes fluttering closed, breathing in the scent of you. Suddenly, you were just aware how… Needy he seemed.

When he looked up at you through lidded eyes, he slowly leaned in, capturing your lips with his for a kiss. Gentleness belied his desperation, though, in all honesty, he wanted you to know.

“Take it off.” He repeated against your lips, feeling you jump a tad when his metal arm brushed along the warmth of your tummy, and suddenly, he shoved your bra over your breasts, squeezing your tits in a way that was a shy away from being rough.

Brazen.

In need.

“Off, or I'm taking it off you.” He ordered this time, despite keeping his voice low, and that made the tension all the more heady.

But before you could even come anywhere close to your senses, you gasped at the unmistakable rip before the top lay torn on the floor. He turned you around, forcing you against the washing machine to meet his gaze once more, unyielding as though he had one thing and only one thing in mind.

Leaning once more, he brushed his stubble along your cheek, taking his time dragging his hands up your back before unhooking your bra.

“I said to take it off, didn't I?” He tutted, feigning disappointment as he tossed the undergarment to the laundry basket, “I'll get you another one. I'll get you plenty.”

He had the means for it, and God forbid he didn't because he'd still find a way to do anything for you.

“What do you say we… Turn in early tonight, get you cleaned up, changed…” His lips paused at your cheek, as if he just thought of something, “Or don't. Wouldn't mind you in nothing in bed either. Just wanna take care of you…”

You could only rest your hands on his chest, toying with the soft cotton beneath your fingers, “You want that? Take care of me?”

You could've sworn he hid a growl at that. 

Wanted? He needed to take care of you.

“I want nothing more.” He replied, his hands descending to your rear and feeling you move closer at the gesture.

And who were you to deny him that?

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» a/n: also, i am just learning that an undershirt is more or less the US counterpart of a singlet sooo yeah ;; gorgeous divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

[00-jammy-00]

Hii! May I pretty please with cherry on top get a yan! CEO with a darling who is on hunger strike? (Bacically refuses to eat unless freed)

Yan!CEO [Reader on hunger strike scenario]

Yan!CEO x GN! Reader

Content warning -Yandere themes, mentioned kidnapping, manipulative yan, sickeningly sweet yan, obsession, force feeding

A/N - This is the first of my little 1k follower celebration. If you have a request you want done, send through an ask <3

——————————————————————————————————

Adrian sighed for what felt like the thousandth time since you had been in his loving care. He loved you, of course he did, but for fucks sake, a hunger strike?! It wasn’t like he was some evil madman! He narrowed his eyes, looking down at your form with pure irritation before letting out another sigh.

“[Reader], dear, why are you still fighting this? I love you so why must you do this to me?” He grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose as he gazed upon the now cold plate of food in front of you. When his words were only met by a cold glare, Adrian groaned. “And now the silent treatment? Darling—“ He spoke in an exasperated tone, already beginning to get whiny. “You can’t be serious. Technically I ‘kidnapped you’ big deal! You were getting harassed by that drunk, what was I meant to do? Just sit by and watch?!” He huffed, flopping down onto a seat across from the bed you were sat on.

He met your glare with his own, his mind conjuring up hundreds of ways he could destroy your spirit but he pushed them to the side. “Come on honey. You know I love you.” He cooed, moving to sit next to you and wrap a sly arm around your shoulders. “I didn’t want to take you. I really didn’t.” That was a complete lie. He was practically jumping up and down when he had you in his car. “I just wanted to protect you.”

Adrian grabbed the fork off of your plate and brought it to your mouth. “Now be good and eat before I force this down your throat.” He let out a dry chuckle but you knew damn well he didn’t find this situation funny. He squeezed your cheeks harshly until your lips parted before shoving the fork into your mouth. “Ah! Look how cute you are! So good for me.” He practically purred, rubbing his cheek against yours affectionately.

You were idiotic if you ever thought a hunger strike would work with Adrian. He may be whiny and annoying but he’d always get what he wanted and he hated when you acted out like this.

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Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, requests are open <3

please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

[oneforthemunny]

Could we have more of rockstar!eddie and nepo reader before all the girls are born? I love hearing about them pre family

i love them so much. i had to do just a mundane, sweet little moment. this is set during the engagement. it's just them being them, really- sexy, silly, obnoxiously obsessed with each other lol. mentions of smut but really nothing graphic, just fluff and love <3

"Oh-oh-oh," Eddie's chain bracelets jingled when he snatched the remote off the side table, muting the TV, turning to you with a wide grin.

"You did some damage, didn't you, baby?" Eddie snickered, eyeing the countless bags you had in your hands, stacked high up your wrist and forearms.

A huffy eye roll was his only response, but the little twitch of your lips didn't go unnoticed to Eddie. "Are you just going to sit there? You're not even going to pretend to help me?" You snapped, letting the bags slide down your arms, delicately setting them on the floor.

Eddie cooed at you mockingly, but he still stood, walking over to the door where the other bags were, grabbing them all in one swoop.

"Christ, sweetheart, this is a lot." Eddie muttered, looking at the countless bags that scattered around you. You already had a closet- no, two, technically- filled with clothes, shoes, accessories, spilling out and into the guest rooms.

"It's not really," You pivoted, looking around. "It just looks like a lot, but the majority of it is coats, and sweaters, and boots- they're just big items."

Eddie's heart swelled with overwhelming adoration, reaching out, hands cupping your face, pulling you in for a sloppy, passionate kiss.

After the engagement, you and Eddie had decided to go look for lake houses on Lover's Lake. It still shocked Eddie how much you loved the simple life, how much you loved Hawkins. There was no fancy Michelin restaurants or extravagant night clubs; really, he thought you'd want to avoid it entirely.

Yet the second he suggested looking at houses, just mentioned the idea of having a place to stay, you'd went out and bought an entire wardrobe, bursting with excitement.

"'M just teasin' you, baby. You know I don't mind." Eddie muttered, thumbs brushing over the apples of your cheeks. "'M just shocked you were able to find this much here. Thought we'd have to go back to New York again."

"I was too, but I think everyone's going to Alta again- it's the new thing." You rolled your eyes lightly. "But it works for me because I got the cutest things."

"Yeah?" Eddie's hands slid down your waist, grinning at how you squirmed. "Why don't you show me, baby?"

"Oh yeah?" You giggled, brows lifting playfully at him. "You want a fashion show?"

"Absolutely." Eddie purred lightly, stepping over the bags, collapsing onto the couch. "Model 'em for me, baby. Show me what you got."

He'd never admit it, publicly, anyways, but it was weakness- seeing you in all your pretty things. Twisting and turning for him in all your new things- oh, it was his favorite form of foreplay.

Watching you strip down to your pretty matching bra and panty set, slipping on dress, jeans, shirts, shoes, then getting to see you model them. But his favorite, absolute favorite part-

"Ed," You hummed, an arm reached around your back, holding the dress together. "Can you zip me up? I can't reach it."

You'd always give him a little playful pout- he wasn't sure why. Like he had ever deprived you, deprived himself, of his favorite part. When he'd get to zip you up, zipper sliding purposefully slow up your frame, his fingertips ghosting over your skin just to feel your shiver. Always giving you a soft pat on your ass, a kiss on your shoulder before his chin pressed to the crook of your neck, looking at you through the mirror.

"I thought this was so cute for the fall. Maybe Thanksgiving? Or if we go out with your friends again." You tilted your head, hands smoothing over the fabric.

Eddie fought back a snort. He wouldn't dare tell you that a Prada dress might be a little too dressed up for his friends from home.

"Looks beautiful, baby. You look beautiful." Eddie grinned, nose brushing over your cheek, lips pressing to the soft skin there.

Your lips twisted in a blushing grin you tried to hide, chin ducking and smoothing out the dress. "Unzip me." You pushed him off lightly with a giggle, his hands a little too grabby on your hips.

"You better calm down, Munson." You looked at him through the mirror, tugging the straps off your shoulders. Eddie's gaze dropped from your eyes to your chest in the mirror, making you giggle.

"I still have a lot of clothes to try on." You lifted a brow at him.

"Can't wait to see 'em all." Eddie's tongue ran over his bottom lip, stepping back to look at your ass in your lacy, high cut panties.

"You buy any more sets like this?" His finger hooked under the tiny band, pulling it and releasing so it snapped against your skin gently.

The squeal you gave had him grinning, hands already reaching to grab you, but you pivoted, reaching for another bag. "Maybe," You hummed, lashes batting over your shoulder at him. "Guess you'll have to be patient and see."

Eddie's lips pressed together in a grin, eyes wild and dark, filled with dangerous excitement that always had your tummy flipping with rushing heat. "Sit down." You nodded towards the couch. "Let me show you my next one. I think you'll like it."

Eddie sat, perched on the edge of the cushion, legs spread, knee bouncing lightly as you rummaged through the bags. When you turned, Eddie barked out a laugh.

"I bought a sweater." You grinned proudly. A running joke between the two of you from much earlier in your relationship.

"You don't have a sweater? You have a fuckin' million clothes, and no sweater? Seriously?"

"I live in Beverly Hills, Ed. Why would I need a sweater?"

There in your hands, with the Ralph Lauren tags still attached, a true thick knit, cream sweater that you held proudly. "A real sweater." You giggled.

"Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about, baby. That's a real sweater." Eddie grinned around a laugh. "Lemme see it on you. Put it on for me."

The wolf whistle he gave when you slipped it over your head had you giggling, shimmying the cashmere into place. You didn't get a chance to show him the Vivienne Westwood pleated skirt you'd bought to go with it, before he had you pinned on the couch, lips hungrily tugging at yours, hands slipped under the soft fabric of your sweater.

[sungbeam]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

dragon shifter!park seonghwa x f!reader

just because you're both dragon shifters doesn't mean this courtship thing is easy.

▷ 6.1k words, pg-13, f2l, dragon shifters au, urban fantasy, swearing, mentions of a big roach/insect, shoulder kiss, seonghwa goes shirtless once (1), mentions of courtship/mating traditions, the boys are implicit in shenanigans ofc, love in the form of jewelry, very mild jealousy, pining

a/n: this au idea was like ,,, 3 months in the making but i reopened the draft yesterday cuz i was tired of rotting 😭 anyways... i think shy, romantic seonghwa is cute ! (also very much hoping this isn't too boring jsfnkdnf)

Park Seonghwa was pretty sure he fell in love with you the day you met. 

It wasn't something he openly admitted to, especially since his attraction had come first when he saw you across the dormitory common room, and was struck dumb by the curve of your smile and the way the sunlight hit your irises to make them glint like jewels. While it was stereotypical to think that dragons only cared about appearances, it didn't come from nothing. It was part of the reason why Seonghwa didn't like saying it was love at first sight; it technically wasn't, by all definitions. He just thought you were beautiful. 

It wasn't until he finally worked up the courage (thanks to his best friend Hongjoong's encouragement (shoving)) to introduce himself to you that he realized what you were—a dragon shifter, just like him. It was no wonder he felt a pull toward you; dragon shifters were a dime a dozen, especially in the city where you both attended university. He told himself his fast friendship and bonding with you came from his excitement of being the same species, as well as learning each other's cultures and traditions, as you came from different clans. 

Though, that didn't account for the amount of times he daydreamed about adorning you in his family's jewels, as it was customary in courtship traditions to wear one's mate's gems. Neither did it account for the way his heart beat faster whenever you were around, the purring from his chest after that one time you fell asleep on his shoulder… It was complicated. 

“Everyone, let's load up the cars! Quick—off your asses. Let's move, people!” Hongjoong hollered like a drill sergeant, his hands cupped around his mouth before clapping too loud for six in the morning on a Saturday. 

Who in their right mind would be crazy enough to wake up so early on the Saturday of their last spring break? Only one demon in particular, and his name was Kim Hongjoong. 

Seonghwa was still half asleep, his eyelids droopy and his limbs even droopier. He nearly flopped face-first onto the pavement outside the apartment complex. He slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and slumped over to the passenger side of the SUV. It had taken all of his willpower to not trudge out in his Lego Movie pajama set.

“—and for goddess's sake, where is Yn?”

He jolted upright. “Yn?” He blubbered, head going on a swivel. 

Hongjoong peered at him weirdly with his hands on his hips, and Wooyoung snorted, then scurried past to avoid Seonghwa's scowl. “Yes, Yn,” Hongjoong said. “Are you awake, Hwa? We literally talked about Yn coming on the trip with us last night.”

Oh. Right. 

Seonghwa blinked his bleary eyes open and nodded sheepishly. Thank goodness he wasn't in his Lego Movie pajamas. “Y-yep, of course I remember!” 

He glanced away, nostrils flaring as he caught onto a familiar scent coming down the street. He could pick out the smell of apple blossoms, tangerines, and your particular musk from a mile away if he was more awake.

“Sorry, I'm late!” Then there came the voice. Your voice simultaneously jump-started his heart and made his heart swoon. If he was about to faint, it probably wasn't going to be from sleep deprivation. 

He couldn't believe he nearly forgot you were coming to the lake with them. 

Your form came into view, your hair a windswept mess and a sheepish sort of smile on your face as you wrestled with the duffle on one shoulder, your backpack on the other, and a paper grocery bag. 

Seonghwa practically fell over himself in order to drop his own bag on the sidewalk and rush over to you. “Here, I got it,” he murmured, taking the grocery bag and duffle bag away from you so he could hold them. 

Your smile widened at him, and he swore the soft morning light was purposefully making your eyes glow right now. “Thanks, Hwa. Very sweet of you.”

“Of course,” he said with a humble nod, pointedly ignoring all of the looks he was getting from his friends. 

“You're just on time,” Hongjoong greeted you with a small smile. “How were exams for you?”

You brushed a hand through your hair, a tired laugh falling from your lips. “They were… alright,” you opted to say. “Glad they're over now, and I'm so ready for this trip.” You gestured to the grocery bag Seonghwa held. “Oh! I brought snacks, by the way.”

Mingi stuck his entire upper body out of the passenger seat of Yunho's sedan. “Yn-ah! You're riding in our car, right?” 

Seonghwa's expression molded into something sour. “Where did you get that idea from?”

“Mingi, you should just give up now,” San chuckled. He sent a wink over to Seonghwa, then glanced back at the naiad who's head Seonghwa was currently trying to glare a hole through. “We’ve already claimed Yn for our car.”

You looked on in confused amusement. “I'll split the snacks between the cars, guys. And plus, the SUV will have more room than the sedan.”

“Exactly,” Seonghwa piped up. He marched over to the back doors of the SUV to safely deposit your things within. There was no need for you to be squished between Yeosang and Jongho in Yunho's comically tiny car, when you could be in the same car as him—no, wait. That wasn't what he meant—

“Well, this is just favoritism,” Yunho jested as he slammed his trunk shut. He shot you a sunny grin that made Seonghwa glance over at you for your reaction. Yunho's being half-siren always made his voice and gestures a little more silken and sweet than the rest of them. “Are you sure it's 'cause of the extra room and not because Wooyoung's cat is gonna be in that car?”

You chuckled, shrugging. As if on cue, a lithe feline in silky black fur trotted out from the bushes. She strutted over to you, purring as she wrapped her tail around your calf. “Okay, maybe you caught me,” you said, crouching down to pet Wooyoung's cat familiar. 

Seonghwa was not going to be jealous over a cat. He was absolutely not. Some sleep would screw his head on straight—yes, sleep did sound nice. He didn't know what was up with himself this morning. 

“Pretty sure she loves you more than she loves me,” Wooyoung pouted as he stuck his head out of the SUV's back window. 

You picked the feline up with your hands, and she gave a crooning meow as you held her up to her witch through the window. “I wouldn't mind adopting her if she wasn't permanently bound to you.”

Seonghwa's eye twitched at the same time he and Hongjoong made eye contact. 

The demon's mouth curled into a knowing, teasing smile—I see you. Seonghwa could feel the heat lift to the surface of his skin as he ducked into the car. He really needed a nap.  

The remainder of the time was used swiftly as everyone finished packing things into your respective cars, including your bodies. About an hour later, you were well on your way out of the city. 

As this was all nine of yours last year of university, this spring break needed to be a memorable one. Yeosang had heard talk through the grapevine of a collection of interlinking caves overlooking a small lake. It was located a few hours out of the city proper, but it would pose as a peaceful getaway for the week. Each of the small caverns were open facing, peering over the water's surface, and each was designed to be like rooms in a house. There would be enough for the boys to sleep two to a bed, with you getting your own. 

The drive out of the city was an easy one. Seonghwa slept nearly the entire time, only waking up to a near-quiet car, save for Hongjoong's choice of music playing softly from the radio. 

“'Morning,” Hongjoong murmured, taking his eyes off the road for a brief moment. 

Seonghwa yawned and turned his eyes up and outward at the world around him. Concrete jungle had become emerald green trees speared with beams of buttery sunshine. He bet it smelled glorious. “Morning,” he said back quietly. “Are they still…” 

His voice trailed off as he twisted around in his seat and took in the middle row behind him. You, San, and Wooyoung were squished arm to arm, thigh to thigh; Wooyoung's black cat familiar laid fast asleep in Wooyoung's lap, with Wooyoung's head against San, San's head against you, and your head against the car window. Seonghwa cooed to himself at the sight, carefully snapping a picture with his phone, before returning to face the front. 

The remainder of the drive was swift, and as you approached the site of your home for the next several days, you all slowly began to wake up. Seonghwa rolled his window down and braced his arm over the open sill, a smile breaking onto his lips as he greedily inhaled the clean, crisp air. 

His eyes flickered to the side mirror, locking gazes with you. For a moment, he held your eye contact. He watched your mouth curve into that pretty smile of yours that made his insides flutter, before you looked out at the forest again. 

When Hongjoong's and Yunho's cars broke out of the trees and into the next clearing, everyone's breaths stole away. 

“No way we scored this good,” San whispered in giddy excitement as he shoved his body between Hongjoong and Seonghwa to peer out the front windshield. 

Before you stood a wide lake, its waters so clear that one could see straight to the bottom. The caverns that you would all bunker up in were on the far shore, stacked atop one another in two layers with four openings on the bottom and three on the top. A waterfall curtained off two of the cavern rooms as it flowed from the rocky outcropping that loomed over the lake, and into the lake itself; the sound was not thunderous, but a dull sort of roar that was almost muffled. 

With the sun rising higher into the sky, its beams reflected off the cascading spray of water to create a small rainbow in the mist. Suffice to say, the view in front of you deserved its own magazine. 

“Let's get our spring break on!” Wooyoung hooted as Hongjoong pulled the car around the shore of the lake to reach the base of the caverns. 

As the day sank from late morning to early afternoon, you and your friends transferred all of your belongings from the cars and into the caverns. Rooms were decided by an efficient round of Rock Paper Scissors—you luckily scored first, and chose the most private room behind the waterfall for yourself. 

Once everyone was settled, it became a race of who could get into the water—

“WAAAAHOOOO!” SPLASH!

—first. 

Seonghwa peered out from the living room cavern on the second floor to see the bodies below take a running start into the lake. He chuckled to himself, leaning his hip against the wall with a can of soda in his hand as he watched his friends break the surface of the lake, one by one. 

“You're not swimming?”

Seonghwa nearly fell forward and out of the open cave, down into the water. His hand slapped against the wall to catch himself, his heart practically tumbling out of his chest anyway. 

To your credit, you looked apologetic, grimacing through a smile as you came to stand next to him. “Sorry. You didn't hear me come in?” 

You had changed out of your T-shirt and shorts from earlier into a cropped tank top and loose skirt, a silver waist chain winking up at him from where it linked around your belly. 

The thought shoved itself into his brain—that you would look terribly divine in his jewelry.

He swallowed, dragging his eyes up back to yours. “I didn't,” he admitted sheepishly. “Guess I was too focused on watching everyone else. Have you settled in alright?”

You had chosen the cavern bedroom right next to the living room, but it was the only bedroom on this level. 

With a nod, you turned your gaze outward at the ocean of emerald green trees surrounding this little oasis. “I have,” you said pleasantly. “You?”

“Same here.” He carded a hand through his hair. “It's really quite beautiful here.” But not as beautiful as you. 

You glanced over at him again, and he wondered if he could concoct enough things to say to keep your attention on him. “Oh, I definitely agree; it's a perfect paradise, really. The waterfall” — you inclined your chin to your left — “I think it'll be most beautiful at sunset.”

He lifted one of his brows and pushed off the cavern wall. “Oh? Why do you think so?”

“If the sunset faces us,” you explained, gesturing your hand out to the eastern horizon in the distance, “then it'll reflect its light against the waterfall. As the sun sinks down and lights the sky on fire, so too will it set the water aflame.”

Seonghwa could envision your words in his mind's eye as he took in the waterfall careening into the lake below. Its crystal blue waters were so clear that it undoubtedly would reflect the shades of the sunset, and become illuminated as you said—where water turned to flame. 

A soft smile came to his face. What a gorgeous image. 

“I bet it'd look incredible from the skies.” Your words drew him back to your face. You were already looking over at him, and his heart gave a loving lurch. 

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “I agree. Have you been able to stretch your wings recently?”

You hummed, tilting your head from side to side. “Not super recently because I was locked inside to study for the last week or two. You?”

“Same,” he chuckled and reached behind his back to scratch at the nape of his neck. Usually, he tried to shift into dragon form at least twice a week to keep his wings strong, but when life got busy, it was difficult to find enough time to take to the skies. “Would—would you like to take a flight with me sometime?” He stammered, fumbling over his words. “Just, y'know, like a casual thing.”

Excellent, Hwa. The spitting image of confidence. 

He sipped on his soda, already hearing Hongjoong's exasperated sigh in his ear. 

Your smile softened at the corners. “I'd love to. After dinner, maybe?”

His shoulders loosened in relief. “Sounds like a plan.”

“This is your chance! It's a sign!” 

Seonghwa frowned at his reflection in the vanity mirror as he played around with his dark curls. Tied up? Kept down? It really didn't matter; he was literally going to be a dragon for the majority of the time, but it never hurt to appear well-groomed before a potential… ahem, friend. A friend. 

Hongjoong slumped down on the foot of their shared bed, a deadpan on his face when Seonghwa continued to ignore him. “Park Seonghwa, so help me, I will plant one of your anklets in her jewelry box—”

“And if you do that,” Seonghwa drawled as he gave up on his hair and reached for the tube of lip gloss on the vanity top, “I will tell that elven girl you've become so fond of about how you—”

“Okay, I got it,” Hongjoong cut in with a scowl. “Aish, so touchy. I'm just saying that this trip is the perfect opportunity to let her know how you feel, and to court her.”

Seonghwa knew that; of course, he fucking knew that. The thing was that if anything went poorly, you would practically be stuck here with him until the end of the trip. He cringed to himself at the mere awkwardness of that potential outcome. “It's just a wing stretch,” he reasoned aloud to himself. He grabbed one of the bottles of cologne on the table to spritz around his scent glands. “It's not like I'm going to offer her a necklace.”

“Yes, because you need to smell nice for a wing stretch.” Hongjoong fell back onto the bed with a grumble under his breath at Seonghwa's stubbornness. 

Dinner had finished up about fifteen minutes ago, and while everyone departed to do their own activities, you and Seonghwa agreed to reconvene at the tops of the caves in five minutes for your planned flight together. The days were growing longer as spring waltzed toward summer, and thus, the sun reigned the skies for a lengthier period of time. The two of you would ideally circle back in time to watch the sunset hit the waterfall.

Seonghwa left Hongjoong to their quarters as he made his way up to the rocky outcropping at the top of the waterfall. 

You were already waiting for him, your bare feet standing in the shallow end of the river leading down to the waterfall. You still had on the top and skirt from earlier, and as a light breeze wafted past, it blew through your hair and your clothes like a dream. 

You glanced up at him. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are.” He grinned as the anticipation and excitement of breaking his wings free slowly bubbled up into his chest. It wasn't only being able to spend time with you, but simply the thoughts of being his dragon self that made him so giddy. 

You hopped out of the river and padded across the soil toward him. 

Once you were in line with him, Seonghwa flashed you a wide smile and sprinted toward the cliff edge. Your laughter followed him as he dove off toward the water below, eyes falling closed as he relished in the wind whipping past his skin. 

When he opened his eyes, he skimmed the water's surface with the edge of a veiny, membranous wing, before swooping back up toward the ripening sky above. His humanoid features had fully transformed into that of a creature nearly five times his human height. Scales of obsidian, gleaming a dark blue in the light, rippled across his back, his skin. He huffed steam from his nostrils and searched for you. 

A body of iridescent white, so pearly that you appeared a shade of light purple in the burning gold light, blurred in his periphery. 

He whipped his head in your direction, watching you soar around him in a loose circle. You wrapped around him and grazed the end of your tail against his, a caress. 

He didn't want to think too much about that. 

And then your irises, blue-purple in this form, were blinking at him. Northward? Your snout gestured in that vague direction. 

Seonghwa huffed his agreement, and the pair of you took off into the skies. 

A dragon shifter's courtship traditions were different from other shifters’ cultures. For one, the value of wearing a potential mate's jewelry was equivalent to acceptance of courtship; additionally, wearing one another's jewels essentially spelled out a long-term partnership. It was similar to humans’ exchanging of rings. 

Dragons dressed their mates in their own jewels as dragons were ruthlessly protective of their hoards of treasures, and a mate was even more precious than any jewel one could acquire. There were other rituals, too—such as dousing one another in dragonfire, performing a certain mating dance, consuming meals made by their mate—but the jewels had always been emphasized in Seonghwa's clan. 

It was why he stiffened when he saw a slim, silver chain wrapped around your ankle this morning. 

The piece of jewelry looked awfully similar to something he owned, except the one you wore was studded with an amethyst on the tail, whereas the one he owned was studded with sapphire. He struggled to swallow as he stepped into the kitchen, eyes pinned to your ankle. 

The way the light refracted off the gem made the article appear so much like his own jewelry; his heart could not take a scare like that so early. Perhaps scare wasn't such an accurate word—he simply hadn't had the time to mentally prepare. 

It didn't matter how long he'd fantasized about it. Seeing the real thing would likely bring him to his knees regardless. 

“Hwa,” your amused chuckle greeted his ears as you peered at him from over the rim of your coffee cup. “Good morning.”

He tried for a smile and forced himself to look at something, anything, other than your ankle. “Hi. Good morning.” Seonghwa grabbed a cup of his own to pour a helping of the brew into. “Sleep well?”

You rolled your shoulders back, followed by your neck. But as he blew on the hot coffee, he failed to notice the way your eyes watched his movements regarding the coffee. “Mhm, way better after we flew last night.”

Seonghwa hummed warmly. “Yes, same here.” Last night was a blissful night of deep sleep. The tension between his shoulder blades had lessened considerably. 

He took a gentle sip of his beverage, and the rich bittersweetness hit him as an alluring wakeup call. You were still watching as he took a larger gulp. 

His eyes met yours. “Something wrong?” He asked, licking his lips. 

Your eyes widened. “Nope,” you squeaked out. You coughed, setting your mug on the table to lace your fingers together. “Uhm so… thoughts on kebabs for lunch? I was gonna go hunting later.”

“Mmh.” Seonghwa drained his cup of coffee. “That sounds good. I can go with you—if you'd like,” he added swiftly. Sometimes hunting could be a therapeutic solo trip and he hoped he wasn't encroaching. Though, going hunting just the two of you sounded nice, too. 

“I'd love the company,” you said. When you smiled, his own widened. 

The brief moment of peace the two of you shared shattered as two bodies barrelled into the room, followed by another set of thundering footsteps behind them. 

“YAH! Choi Jongho, I know this was all your idea!” Wooyoung appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, drenched from head to toe with dark and damp bangs hanging in his seething eyes. A puddle was beginning to form beneath him as he glared at the two giggling imps cowering behind the opposite end of the counter. 

You and Seonghwa connected gazes across the chaos. Good grief. 

From behind Wooyoung's calf, another creature poked her head out to hiss at the perpetrators. Wooyoung's cat familiar looked akin to a wet rat, the poor thing. 

“Seonghwa hyung, do something!”

Seonghwa's eyes drifted over to Jongho and Yeosang, who flashed him a pair of sheepish smiles. “Aye… both of you. Now.”

“We didn't get water on San,” was what Yeosang offered with a shrug. 

That seemed to not be the answer Wooyoung was looking for. If the witch was a dragon instead, Seonghwa was sure he would be blowing steam out of his ears. “Are you kidding me? I am going to hex you so badly, you will never know a day of peac—”

Jongho suddenly yelped, startling everyone as he leaped a couple feet in the air and ran to crouch beside you at the breakfast table. 

“What, what? What is it?” 

Yeosang's eyes had widened to the size of globes, too, as he scurried backward to the edge of the cavern. His stare was still pinned to something on the other side of the counter. 

Seonghwa peered over the ledge and swore sharply. “That is the biggest fucking bug I have ever seen in my life,” he said with his hand pressed to his face, stressed. 

Wooyoung had magically disappeared, and his cat had retreated alongside him. If even the cat didn't want anything to do with the big hunk of insect—

“AH-AH! HYUNG, IT'S MOVING!” Jongho screeched and grabbed the back of your chair to hide behind you. 

Seonghwa paused at that action, but snapped out of it when he saw the legs peek out from around the corner. “Can someone get Yunho?”

“Ohhhhh, I'm too young to die,” the youngest whispered toward the ceiling, his face contorted in fear and anguish; it was a rare thing to see from Jongho. “Yn, please, flame its ass or something!”

You sputtered, curling your feet up onto your chair with you in case the bug came scuttling toward the table. “Uh no. Yunho would literally flame me if I did!”

“Screw what he thinks. He's not here right now.”

Seonghwa clambered up onto the counter and peered over the edge again. He slapped a hand over his mouth after seeing the bug for another time. “Okay,” he said carefully, “on the count of three, we're all going to run for the edge and jump into the lake.”

Three nods from around the room. 

“One…” Everyone shifted an inch toward the cave opening. “Two…”

The fuckass bug moved. 

The countdown was abandoned—Jongho ran for the opening and tackled Yeosang into the water. Seonghwa leaped over the remainder of the countertop in time to swan dive into the lake beside you. His body sliced into the water like a hot knife through butter, and the lake's cool temperatures engulfed him in a refreshing embrace. 

Your head popped up right beside him and you shot him a laughing grin. “Well, that's definitely one way to start off the day.”

He laughed alongside you, slicking his wet hair back and out of his face. “I mean, we were gonna end up in the water at some point,” he mused. 

“True.” Your eyes zeroed in on something just below his jawline. You swam a little closer, and Seonghwa's heart catapulted into his throat. “You have a little, uhm, watercress…”

Your fingers brushed over his collarbone as you gently plucked the strand of watercress out from the links of the necklace sitting on his sternum. You lifted the plant up as if to say, 'Ta da,’ before pausing at your physical proximity. 

Seonghwa watched as a drop of water dripped down the middle of your face, down the slope of your nose, and slipped over your plush lips. Woah…

He had half the mind to reach out and thumb it away. 

“Two dragons, a fae prince, and a water mage couldn't handle a fucking roach?” 

You and Seonghwa jolted away from each other like similar poles of a magnet, heat rushing up to the surface of your skin. You both tilted your gazes up to the caves and saw Yunho appear at the mouth of the kitchen, a wide grin on his face as he held the bug up between his two fingers. 

“That sounds like a joke I've heard before,” San laughed as he walked up next to Yunho. He waved down at the lot of you in the water, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. 

Wooyoung peered out from behind San. “Instant karma!” He hollered. 

“Come down here, and we can talk about instant karma,” Jongho threw right back up at him. He flicked his wrist and sent a jet of lake water up to the cave mouth, hitting Wooyoung square between the eyes with scary accuracy. 

San howled in laughter as his friend hissed from the friendly fire. 

Seonghwa loosened a warm chuckle before turning toward you—wait. Where did you go? He twirled around in the water, eyes scanning the lake for where you'd gone. 

“Hwa!” You were by the far shore, raising your hand up to wave him over. 

He didn't hesitate to swim over toward you. The two of you swam over to the furthest edge of the lake, far from the others. The morning sun had not yet crested high enough to penetrate through the trees here, and that left you both in a patch of dreamy shade where long leaves dripped into the water like Mother Nature's curtains. 

Seonghwa clambered out onto the bank and yanked the hem of his shirt up and over his head. The material had stuck to his skin like glue, and he was a lot more comfortable without it on. 

Behind him though, he swore he heard your breath hitch. 

The corner of his lips curled upward in satisfaction. He continued to feign ignorance as he wrung his wet shirt out, arm muscles flexing as the water trickled out of the fabric. “You coming up, love?” He asked casually, peering over his shoulder at you lingering in the water. 

You cleared your throat as you pulled yourself onto land. “Y-yeah,” you said, covering your stammer with a breathy laugh. 

“Cold?” He teased, finally turning his body to face you in full. 

You passed him an expression of playful exasperation. “Freezing,” you jested back. It was difficult for dragon shifters to be cold; the amount of heat either of you generated on your own was enough to keep you warm all the time. After all, you did spew fire from your mouth on occasion. 

Seonghwa whipped his shirt out in front of him and blew a breath of steam through it. The fabric dried up fast, but instead of putting it back on, he slung it over his shoulder. 

An idea plunked itself into the forefront of his mind. “Shall we hunt?” He asked and extended a hand out to you. 

He saw the flicker of blue-purple in your irises—like lightning—as you brushed a lock of hair from your eyes. You took his hand, your fingers and palms slotting together like matching clasps of a chain. “We shall.”

Seonghwa sat at the vanity table in his and Hongjoong's room. The world beyond the mouth of this cavern was a dark sapphire, embroidered with small diamonds in its fabric—the night sky and its stars. The muffled rush of the waterfall nearby played in the background as he sifted through his traveler's chest of jewelry and gemstones. Hongjoong had half fallen asleep in the hot spring somewhere behind him, so Seonghwa was taking this time to pick out what he wanted to wear to… tomorrow…

His hand movements stilled as something caught his eyes in the chest of shiny stones. He held his breath, carefully withdrawing a silver chain out by its amethyst stone. There was no question about what it was and that it didn't belong to him. 

Your fragrance still lingered on the metal, though cool from being away from your body heat for a while. 

Seonghwa breathed out loudly through his nose as he stared at the article in his palm. 

He could hear Hongjoong emerging from the hot spring pool. “Something wrong, Hwa?”

“Did you” — Seonghwa's brows furrowed and he twisted around on the vanity stool — “steal her anklet?”

Hongjoong frowned, wrapping a towel around his waist before coming to stand beside his friend. He peered down at the article, reaching out to touch the anklet. 

Seonghwa moved his hand away and his chest rumbled with a low growl. 

A soft huff of amusement fell from Hongjoong's lips, and he settled his hand on Seonghwa's shoulder instead. “No, I wouldn't dare. I don't want to face a dragon's wrath for stealing from their hoard, thank you very much.”

“Hmph.” Seonghwa considered the article in his palm once more. If Hongjoong wasn't pulling his leg, then the logical answer was that you put your anklet in his jewelry chest. But why would you do that, and when did you? He would have smelled your scent lingering in this room if you had, and he couldn't pick up on any of his friends’ scents either. 

A flower of hope blossomed in his chest as he thought about the implications of this gesture further. Maybe it didn't matter how it got here, only what you thought about it being here in his possession.

“It's a sign,” Hongjoong giggled, squeezing his shoulder. He trudged away to go find his sweatpants to sleep in. “Your move, Park!”

Seonghwa slowly wrapped his fingers around the chain, a small smile flitting onto his face. In the mirror, his cheekbones burned the color of the rubies in his jewelry case. 

His move, indeed. 

In the morning, Seonghwa rose before day broke the dawn. 

It had come to him like a strike of lightning last night as he laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, weighing the option of wearing your anklet like a lovesick fool or returning it to you in the morning. What he'd remembered, instead, was something you told him about your clan's traditions. 

While his family held a lot more emphasis on adornment for mating traditions, your family clan put more importance on the act of making a meal for a potential partner. Consuming said meal was an acceptance of courtship and love. 

As he hunched over the kitchen countertop pouring over a recipe on his phone, he marinated on how to go about this. Presenting you with breakfast—that he only made for you, might he add—was not a subtle move in the slightest. Perhaps slipping your anklet into his things could be interpreted a couple ways, but it wasn't a glaring neon sign like this gesture was going to be. 

Nonetheless, Seonghwa got to work. He was counting on his friends to stay the fuck asleep. 

About an hour later, he was just finishing up when he picked up on the sound of your bare feet padding across the hallway toward the kitchen. Your perfume followed next, carrying into the room on an invisible breeze. Seonghwa drummed his fingers against the countertop as you strolled into the room, eyes wide and bright when you saw him there with food made. 

“Well, something smells yummy,” you said warmly. “Should I go wake the others?”

“No!” He laughed nervously, breaking into a bashful smile. “No need. This—this is just for you. I mean, I made breakfast for you.”

Your eyes seemed to grow even wider. “Break—breakfast for me? Just me?”

He nodded and wrung his hands in front of his body. “Just you… if that's okay.”

“Of course, that's okay. More than okay, really,” you murmured, eyes turning shy. The implications were too blatant not to miss or deny. 

Seonghwa gestured for you to take a seat at the breakfast table and presented you with the hot and fresh plate of breakfast he'd just made. He claimed the seat across from you with his own plate, but didn't touch it yet. His nerves made his hands shake beneath the table as he watched you take your utensil and fork a bite into your mouth. 

Something warm burst in his chest as you swallowed, then took another bite. 

“It's really good,” you said to him between bites. Your mouth was pursed into a wide smile, a tenderness swimming in your gemstone irises. “I think though,” you murmured after swallowing, “that we need to talk.”

Seonghwa's stomach tightened, but he nodded. “Agreed. I, uhm, I found this in my jewelry case last night.” He pulled out the strand of silver and amethyst from his pocket. The metal and jewel glistened in the soft morning sunlight pouring into the open cavern. 

“Oh, you didn't wear it?”

He went doe-eyed. “I wanted to—I just wanted to be clear about intentions first, just because if I wore this…” He stammered, “Then you'd be mine and I'd be yours.” 

The wording of it made your pulse skip, but it was exactly what you wanted. All of this stumbling around each other, falling over yourselves, was for this purpose. 

“Is that right, love?”

You nodded, as the two of you shared a smile in the glow of early morning. “That's right.”

He would be yours, and you would be his. 

Breakfast was dined upon in peace with quiet murmurings exchanged between the two of you, accompanied by light laughter and loving gazes. It was a marvel none of it was interrupted by the other occupants of the lakeside getaway. 

There was another thing that had to be done in order to seal the deal, however. 

When breakfast was finished and cleaned up after, Seonghwa barged back into his and Hongjoong's shared bedroom. His demon best friend was nowhere to be found, but it was no matter. Seonghwa went over to the vanity table and carefully picked up the necklace he had laid out last night. It was white gold studded in fat, glistening rubies—his prized possession, and one of the few pieces he had saved for only his future partner to wear.

That giddy excitement curled in his stomach again as he took the necklace with him up to your bedroom on the second floor. You were there waiting for him, your foot braced on the vanity stool to fix his sapphire chain onto your ankle, as your amethyst one laid around his. 

“This,” he murmured as he came up behind you in the mirror, “I've been saving for someone special.” He locked eyes with you in the looking glass, a sweet smile playing on his lips as he draped the heavy gems over your sternum. 

Blood rubies were precious and harder to come by these days, which was why Seonghwa coveted them. It only made sense that they should rest now on a person he would also come to value even more. They sat perfectly upon your collarbones, like a tiara upon your head… like it was made for you. You were yourself a treasure. 

Seonghwa could hardly contain his contentment at the sight. He wrapped his arms around your middle as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, smiling against your skin. “Perfect.”

a/n: don't forget to reblog + comment if u enjoyed!

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[a-mint-bear]

Courtship Rituals

Male Yandere x Reader

So… that's definitely space outside the window. It's been a week since you woke up on this ship, and the weird alien who keeps checking in on you is… nice enough. But something about him seems off...

____________________________

"I see you're doing well, starlight."

He’d been checking up on you more often lately. At least you were pretty sure they were a "he". Since his voice started getting translated by the device on his temple, it was sounding decidedly masculine.

Since you’d woken up on this ship, he’d been keeping an eye on you. At first, you’d been terrified, and rightly so. Waking up to an eight-foot-tall, armored alien staring at you had been too much. After screaming and throwing things, and more screaming, he'd seemed unbothered by your reaction. He tried talking to you, but it just sounded like chirps and chuffs, like a big cat. He'd done his best to communicate, but nothing was coming across.

With a defeated hiss, he disappeared for a day or so. You’d attempted to get out of the massive, round bed but the sudden movement made your vision swim and a nauseous feeling crashed over you. With so many questions still bouncing around in your head, you were frustrated that all you could really do was wait.

You had a dreamless sleep, the night sky trailing on endlessly outside the massive floor-to ceiling window that made you feel all the more insignificant.

____________________________

When he came back the next day (maybe?), you finally got a good look at him. His face was the only vaguely human thing about him, save for large, dark eyes that glowed in the dark and odd scales on his cheeks and forehead. He had pointed ears that almost looked like they belonged to a bat. They swiveled and twitched, especially when you spoke. He was rarely expressive, though you did see him attempt a smile from time to time. You say "attempt" because it was way too wide and revealed far too many sharp teeth. It set off some ancient instinct in you to stay the hell away. You tried to ignore it but still kept your guard up just in case.

A keyboard-like light panel that projected from a device on his forearm chimed as he tapped away at it, and he approached you with a metal circle no bigger than your thumbnail, matching the one he wore. You backed away, hyper-aware of the stranger's touch. He… purred at you? And while you were distracted, he tapped it to your right temple.

There was a sharp pinch, the pain pulsing away with your heartbeat. When you cried out, he was quick to touch his long, clawed fingers to yours, maybe trying to comfort you.

You could hear the device whirring away against your skin, latching onto you and beeping intermittently. You’d never felt anything interacting with what felt like your brain before, and you could say without a doubt that it was NOT great.

The noises stopped, and a low, almost ghostly voice purred in your ear.

"Communication link established. The device should be fully functional now…"

“Hello there.” His clawed finger caressed yours, soothing your pain. It eventually faded, that purring of his actually seemed to help. “I hope your rest has helped you overcome your transfer sickness.”

From then on, any time he talked to you, it swung between intelligent, endless technical talk that one might expect from this extra sci-fi guy and…

Awkward small talk?

"Lovely weather we're having today." He smiled that horrifying smile of his, sitting on the end of the bed.

With an awkward glance out the window, you had the thought that there was, of course, no weather in space.

"Have you read any interesting publications as of late?"

You shook off the odd nature of the questions, cutting to the chase.

Why were you here?

"Of course, I've brought you onto my ship for the… hmm. It seems there is no exact translation for it." He seemed puzzled, tapping away at the device. "The closest term that I can find is… ah. The Courtship."

You froze.

Courtship?

He seriously abducted you to… woo you?

And here you thought that was a cliché for extraterrestrials…

That would explain the awkward small talk. But it was still too weird.

You tried to get to the bottom of all this. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the wave of anxiety that had yet to wash away.

You had no idea as to how he would react to you just saying “No, take me back to Earth.” So, you’d have to ease into it, gauge his reactions.

You told him your name. He mulled over it, mispronouncing it a few times before growling a little. It made you freeze, your brain was again screaming “Danger, get away from here NOW”, but you needed to keep your head.

“If I could, it sounds… very similar to the word my people have for… the closest translation I can come to is the… electromagnetic radiation from self-gravitational fixed plasma points that are visible to the naked eye. Starlight… yes, that will suffice.”

If he weren’t an actual, literal alien, you would swear he was upping his word count to sound smarter. But you had no clue how this translator worked, maybe it just pointed him to the closest words to what he wanted to say.

But it seemed you had a nickname. A very romantic-sounding one. Great.

You asked him for his name in return.

"Yes, my designation. My species has little use for such titles." He brushed off the notion with a shift of his dark eyes, staring into yours again. "We do not interact with one another to require such differentiation. I have heard of my people taking a title assigned to them by their mate, for their own assurance, as we mate for life."

He leaned to be closer to you, his face uncomfortably close to yours. You guessed he was kind of handsome, for a literal alien… But that wasn’t any of his business.

"Would you like to assign me a title, my starlight?"

He was thinking of you… as his mate? Already? Or was that just an example? You’d literally spent less than a full day actually talking with him and he was talking about mating for life? It was all too much.

You didn’t want him to assume you were okay with any of this, but it might help him see you in a better light. Make you a person in his eyes, and not just a (hopefully temporary) guest on his ship. Maybe even sympathize with you when you asked him about turning the thing around and taking you back home.

You combed your mind for anything that would fit, digging deep for your middle school astronomy/mythology phases.

You asked if he would be okay if you called him Cygnus, only telling him it was the name of a star back on Earth. But it stood out with his casual “mate for life” comment, even though he resembled a dragon/cat more than a swan. Not to mention the story of an otherworldly being making advances towards someone he really shouldn’t, as Zeus once did to Leda.

“Siig…nussss…” he hissed out the last syllable, his tongue flicking out over the strange word. “Cygnus… I will cherish this title, starlight.” he nuzzled your hand to his scaled cheek, purring again. Before you could say anything else, the panel on his arm went off with a sudden alarm.

“Apologies.” he stood, tapping at some of the keys. “I must attend to something.”

Before Cygnus could step away from the bed, you panicked, reaching out and grabbing his hand. He stared at you, a curious purr slipping out before he knelt by the bedside.

You held his large hand in yours, pleading with him that you couldn’t do this. You had a life, he took you from it and this was all too much. You just wanted to go home.

His expression never changed, but he touched your hair, seeming almost entranced by it. You wondered if this alien would take pity on you, if he could be persuaded to do the right thing.

“Ah, you seem to be misinterpreting something.” You could see the realization in his dark eyes. “The language barrier is beginning to become a hindrance.”

He held your hand in a placating way, patting it gently like he had seen someone do the same thing without knowing much context.

“The Courtship is… something my people have been doing for eons. They believe that genetic variation is the key to a long-standing civilization. No two of us are genetically similar to each other after a few generations. We have varying appearances and life expectancies. We visit a faraway star system and… take a viable mate from the populace. Some do this at random, some monitor their prospective mates to assess compatibility.”

“After searching for so long, I found myself interested in the humanoid species of Earth. The longer I observed, searching for my perfect mate, the more I became… intrigued by the courtship rituals I observed.”

“You engage in meaningless banter where neither party really cares for the answer. The lingering touches, the subtle glances. Small meaningful gifts or large shows of extravagance to display to the prospective mate that they can provide. And dancing… I was especially intrigued by how your species uses such a thing for showcasing sexual compatibility. The Courtship is such a… straightforward and dull undertaking by comparison.”

“I saw you, just walking alone…” His eyes were shining as he looked at you, that damn purring started back up whenever he paused. “I’ve heard from others of my kind that we just… know. And when I saw you I knew…I knew you were my mate.”

The way he said it, it felt like you stopped breathing. He was looking at you like… like a predator who’d finally cornered their prey. That’s what your brain had been warning you about.

“We take our mate aboard our ships and begin… this word isn’t coming across. I will do some research… Regardless, this is not traditionally a… harmonious process?” he tilted his head, still as emotionless as before. “No, perhaps… consensual is the better term.”

You didn’t dare to look away from his eyes, that horrible, terrified feeling clawing down your back. You suddenly wondered if you’d ever seen him blink.

“That particular element of The Courtship continues to be necessary.”

Cygnus caressed your cheek, you could feel his claws gently touch your skin, they were blunt and curved. You were suddenly reminded of how some claws like that weren’t meant to tear and slash, but rather pin and capture.

Words completely failed you, not that you knew what to say. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

“Get some rest, my starlight.” he touched his forehead to yours, nuzzling you as he purred. “I’ll court you as long as it takes.”

He stepped out of the room and left you to your own devices, and you went into the “flight” option of fight or flight. There was no obvious way to open the door to the room, no handle or lock, just a slab of metal that stood out from the surrounding wall. You tried to rattle it, push on it, kick it down. But it didn’t budge.

The little thing on your head beeped, and it seemed to communicate with a robot eye-looking thing above the door. It lit up in recognition of your device, but then blinked red with a quick negative-sounding chime. It was confirmation of something you already suspected, but didn’t want to accept.

You were locked in. You’d probably been locked in the entire time. Cygnus’ calm demeanor made you think he could be reasoned with, made to see you were your own person who deserved to live your own life.

You slid down the door, collapsing into panicked tears.

It was clear that he saw you as anything but.

____________________________

Affectionately nicknaming the alien yandere "Siggy" in my head. because Cyggy looks a little silly, but either are acceptable.

with his face it's possible that there was a human somewhere in his lineage, way way back when. it's mostly surface level, as he doesn't even recognize it in himself. to be fair, there's no one way his species is "supposed" to look.

His people do the whole "alien abduction" thing to reproduce, probably not in the old-fashioned way but more of a gene-splice-y way, but it's still a terrifying practice.

it's been a hot second since i posted anything, started my new job and i tend to get into a creative slump when i get into work mode. but sitting down at my actual computer to write this instead of editing it on my phone or old tablet did the trick.

now im sitting here thinking "does he have a tail?" and now im debating it lol. he probably definitely has those legs, you know the ones. google tells me it's called digitigrade.

and that "armor" is really just like... a scaley exoskeleton. but not really, more like a crab shell that would grow back if damaged or ripped off. it protects his soft, vulnerable body. he molts it every year and he gets super embarrassed being seen without his "armor" ha

until next time, i have to get some work done ✌️

edit: art of Cygnus