#Hair thinning remedies

[soovyclub]

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28 Hair Loss Tips - How To Prevent Hair Thinning & Encourage Hair Growth A hair loss guide on ways to reduce and reverse excessive hair fall and balding with tips on how to prevent and stop hair loss and encourage hair growth. https://www.soovy.club/blog/hair-loss-tips-how-to-prevent-hair-thinning-encourage-hair-growth

[lokigodofaces]

"you should NOT wash your hair every day"

if any of you can explain to me, a person with curly/wavy hair (sometimes it's curlier than other times), how to not wash my hair every day without my hair being either frizzy, looking like there isn't even a bit of curvature, or both, i will stop washing my hair every day.

[69yard]

Are you Experiencing Hair Fall ? Follow These Steps to Reduce Hair Fall

Photo by Bennie Lukas Bester on Pexels.com Experiencing hair fall can be distressing, but there are several steps you can take to help reduce it. Here are some suggestions to help you address hair fall: Evaluate your diet: Ensure you are getting a balanced diet with essential nutrients like vitamins, minerals, and proteins. Include foods rich in iron, zinc, omega-3 fatty acids, and vitamin E,…

[princessbrunette]

conversing with the kook drug dealer wasn’t exactly how you’d expected to spend your time at this party — but here you were, stood outside a locked bathroom door as the party ensues downstairs, waiting for your friend to finish throwing up all of her shots whilst none other than rafe cameron kept you company.

the older boy leans against the wall as you make small talk — his demeanour oddly chill. infact, more chill than you’d seen him before. you were guessing it was more of a weed night than it was coke.

you fix your hoop earring, tilting your head as you stare up at him in intrigue.

“so what do you do, rafe?” you converse sweetly and he inhales, reaching up to scratch behind his head like he was struggling with an answer.

“i told you. deal that yayo. someone’s gotta get the good shit round here—”

“no like what else do you do? for fun?”

rafe stops in his tracks for a moment, a smirk biting at the corner of his mouth at the innocent nature of your question. it wasn’t often someone asked him something like that — so whilst he wasn’t usually a fan of small talk, you were cute, and he couldn’t help but want to entertain the conversation. rafe leans against the wall some more, blowing out air and shaking his head.

“i uh, i’m boring baby i smoke, i deal i make money n’that’s about it. not much to it i’m uh… i’m afraid.”

you get all clammy and adorable over the ‘baby’ nickname, smiling and clasping your hands together like a little doll before he’d even finished talking. “oh okay!” you respond, seeming happy enough with his non-answer, and there’s even a pause — you seeming completely unphased by the gap in conversation as you continue to gaze up at him with giddy smile before the moment is interrupted by the door flying open and your friend bolting out— back towards the party.

your head whips round to watch her, probably about to ask her where on earth she was going — but your wonder is quickly remedied by her yelling out an incoherent confession regarding her heading back to grab more shots.

you let her go, deciding someone will get to her first — before you turn back and watch rafe swagger into the bathroom, quickly checking himself in the mirror before turning his body round to look back at you.

“you wanna… you wanna see how i do it?” he licks his lips, not too sure where this was going — but he knew he wasn’t ready for the interaction to end.

being the easy going person you are, you shrug with a happy smile — following him in and shutting the door. “sure!”

the two of you stand at the sink, and you watch the way the taller cameron boy fishes in his pocket, pulling out a baggie of white powder.

“i thought dealers weren’t supposed to get high on their own supply?” you pout questioningly through the mirror and he lets out a quiet chuckle at the use of the cliche saying.

“yeah uh, they’re not. but i gotta wake the hell up… n’plus i’ve got my hands on some of the best shit this side of the island. would be a crime not to sample my own goods, right?” he drawls as he prepares the line on the white marble, the movements almost second nature to him like he’d done it a bazillion times. you watch in intrigue, tilting your head. “smoked a shit tonne of weed before this so… not sure it’s gonna cancel out that mellow high. we’ll see.” he glances up at you through the mirror, talking in a knowledgable manner, leaving with you but no choice but to nod along in interest. your curiosity always did lead you to odd situations.

you watch as he cuts the powder into a thin line with his credit card before leaning over the sink and snorting it up. in the most nonjudgmental way one could muster, you blink up at him as he draws back, sniffing and wiping his nose like it pained him.

“woo, shit.” he coughs a little, shaking himself off before clearing up the residue and pocketing the baggie, moving around you to wash his hands and push his hair back in the mirror. “your friends don’t do coke?” he chats, seeming a little more amped than before, pupils dilated in his reflection.

“they do. just not around me. i dunno why.” you shrug a shoulder and he chuckles a little harder than necessary at the comment.

“yeah… you’re the innocent one huh?” he turns back to you, and you eye his pocket in interest with a hum.

“maybe i could change that. can i try some?”

surprisingly, rafe winces — wiping his hands on his pants, eyeing you.

“uh… nah, kid. you wouldn’t like it. trust me, shits not good for you.” he walks to the door, opening it and holding it open for you to walk through. you’re quickly distracted by the gentlemanly act and smile, though he mainly did it to get a look at your ass as you walk through. “why don’t you run along n’get another drink though, a’ight? you’ll know where to find me.” he briefly passes a hand over your lower back as he scooches past you in the slim hallway, looking over his shoulder as he heads off to find some clients to sell to.

you pout for a moment, feeling dismissed — but little did you know, rafe had listened to that quiet voice in his head that he usually ignores. the one that told him ‘leave that girl alone.’

[illyrianbitch]

Safe

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel's night is troubled by a nightmare. He finds a soothing remedy in the arms of his mate.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, nightmares, slight mention of gore, death, and torture. fluff, sensual, slow, sleepy sex!!

Word Count: 3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

All that surrounded him was screaming— sharp and jarring sounds that filled the air, echoing against stone walls. Bodies littered the ground, twisted and broken, red and bloodied, faces contorted in agony. If he squinted hard enough, Azriel could force the colors to blur together, could convince himself that the crunching underneath his boots was the sound of crisp, fallen Autumn leaves— not bones. Not the people he’d killed.

Somewhere, a fire roared, consuming everything in its path, turning the world into an inferno of despair. He felt it in his hands, felt a burst of agony and pain. He heard crying somewhere distant, somewhere far enough to where it became white noise— but his own cheeks were wet. He was crying too. His hands were on fire. He was eight again. And nothing had changed.

A face—your face—emerged, eyes wide and red-rimmed, tears streaking down your cheeks as you sobbed uncontrollably. You mouthed something, the words strained and straggled as you attempted to scream. He swore it was his name that your lips let out, that you were begging for help.

Azriel sprang up, his heart pounding as a thin sheen of sweat ran down his body in a cold chill. 

His gaze landed on two things first: the nightstand, where Truth-Teller was carefully, purposefully tucked into the side of the wood, and then to you—his beautiful, sleeping mate.

Azriel's chest tightened, the fear and anguish from the dream slowly dissipating as he focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Still, remnants of his nightmare clung to him like a shroud. He ran a trembling hand through his hair. 

The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of moonlight through the thin white curtains. Azriel took a deep breath, grounding himself in the reality of your presence, the safety of your shared bed. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch light and careful, as if afraid to wake you. He smiled at your sleeping form, at how he wasn’t uncomfortable with his scarred hands against your skin— not anymore. 

His shadows seemed to be sleeping as well, their dark forms curled around you protectively. All except for one lone tendril which hovered near Azriel, an insomniac companion mirroring his unrest. He let it twist lazily around his hand as he withdrew it from your face. 

You stirred slightly, murmuring something in your sleep, and Azriel felt a wave of relief wash over him. He leaned back against the headboard, still breathing heavily, but the rhythm gradually calmed. He positioned his wings into a comfortable lay behind him. 

Azriel closed his eyes, welcoming thoughts of the first time he’d met you. He reminded himself that you were here, beside him, and wouldn’t be taken away. His mind replayed the memory of your first meeting, of the way his chest tightened when you smiled at him— he had been a goner since that first day. He thought about your first kiss next, how nervous he had been, how you took his hands and pressed your lips to his, how your lips tasted of berry from the pie you both shared. The memories combined with the smell of you, with the warmth of your body next to him, slowly soothed the last remnants of his terror.

“Az?” 

His eyes shot open and he looked over as you lifted yourself up, rubbing your tired eyes—still heavy-lidded and soft. The shadows around you stirred, a few of them joining the lone one that drifted around Azriel's hands.

“My love, did I wake you?” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head slightly, a small smile playing on your lips. “No, not completely.”

Azriel's eyes softened as you shifted closer, moving to rest atop him. He extended his wing to wrap around you protectively, a hand moving to pull you in closer.

Your bare hand came to rest on his chest and he shivered at the touch, at the chill of your skin in contrast to the warmth of his own. He grimaced at the sheen of sweat that still persisted against his skin, but you paid no mind as you extended your palm across his chest.

You gave a small laugh, the sound soft and sleepy. Azriel’s heart fluttered at it and he found himself craving for the sound to be emitted once more— over and over again until he could savor it enough to be satisfied. Not that he ever could be— satisfied, that was. He never had enough when it came to you.

“Sorry,” you murmured, your lips turned up into a sheepish smile.

Azriel smiled lazily at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He grabbed your hand, bringing it to his mouth to kiss tenderly. “You and your ice hands,” he teased gently, brushing his lips against your knuckles. 

You leaned further into him, nuzzling against his chest. “Well, you moved away in your sleep. I was left alone and cold.”

Azriel gave you a small laugh, though it held a trace of lingering unease as your words settled in his chest. Alone and cold. His eyes glazed over slightly, now looking past the moment he was in and into something much darker— momentarily reliving the memory of his nightmare. 

You placed your hand back on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. He blinked once, twice, and then he was back in his bed, arms wrapped around you.

Azriel's fingers traced the contours of your face, his touch light and reverent— sacred almost, as if he were touching a prized treasure, something holy. He moved slowly, committing every detail to memory, ensuring you were real, that you were there before him. He took it all in—the curve of your lips, the softness of your cheeks, the warmth in your eyes. Mate, his shadows whispered into his ears, Your mate. Mate, mate, mate. 

Safe.

His hand cupped your cheek and the golden thread within him sang—- a sweet, beautiful, haunting melody that pushed away the tension building in his shoulders. 

“I’m here,” you said softly, your own hand rising to cover his, grounding him in your touch. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Azriel nodded, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone. “Good,” he said, his voice steadier now. “Because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You stared at one another for a moment, the dimly lit room filled with a comforting silence, something peaceful and safe. Slowly, you moved your hand to his face, your fingers brushing lightly over his cheek. You leaned up, closing the distance between you, and brought him into a kiss.

The kiss was tender and kind, and Azriel felt everything about love within it— comfort, trust, and a promise. He pulled you in closer, his hand wrapping around you, while the other held your face gently, his thumb caressing your cheek.

You were his. And he was yours in return. 

Azriel deepened the kiss, pulling you closer, his tongue gently exploring your mouth. A soft whimper escaped you, the sound sending a wave of pleasure through his body, tightening at the core of his stomach. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes searching yours, dark with desire and affection. You only pulled him back in, your body pressing against his, a needy grind that ignited a fire within him, an insatiable need to be even closer to you, to feel you in a manner that was only granted to him. 

With a swift, fluid movement, he rolled you both so you were on your back and he was hovering above you. One hand braced himself on the bed, while the other roamed over your hips and your body, feeling the curves beneath the thin fabric of your nightdress. His scarred hands brushed over the silk, the material still gliding against the roughness of his skin.

He pulled his lips from yours, slowly trailing down your neck, peppering burning kisses against your skin. His hand moved up, sliding under your nightdress, tracing the lines of your body. His touch was gentle, exploring every inch of you as if it were the first time.

You arched into him, hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer. His name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, a sound that made his heart race even faster. Azriel's hand continued its journey, caressing your thigh, your waist, before finally making it up to your breast, squeezing gently through the fabric.

You let out a sound, a mixture of a breathless gasp and a whimper, and Azriel’s eyes found yours as his fingers grazed over the peak of your hardened nipple. He rolled it between his fingers. 

"Azriel.” 

Your voice trembled with need and something inside Azriel stirred further. This was real, you were real. 

"Yes, my love?" he murmured, his voice husky. His hand continued its slow, torturous movements, thumb brushing over your nipple in a way that made your toes curl. “What is it?”

Your hands roamed over his back, feeling the strength of his muscles beneath your fingers. You ran a teasing touch along the base of his wings, caressing the sensitive area with a chilled touch. Azriel shivered above you, lowering himself to press further against you.

"I need you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. His eyes fell to your parted lips and his lips curved into a tender smile.

"I'm here, my love," he said softly. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, sensual kiss. His tongue teased yours, the taste of him intoxicating. He pulled apart to whisper, “And you are, too.”

You nodded slowly. “I am.” 

Your words were met with a tug deep in your chest that left you breathless. You bit back a moan at the feeling of that sacred thread growing even tauter, at the feeling of his arousal drowning your senses. 

Azriel pushed the strap of your nightdress down, watching as you moved it further to expose your chest to him. He pulled you into another kiss, just as hungry, just as passionate, before he was kissing down your neck once more— down to your collarbone and right above your breast. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak.

You gasped, your back arching off the bed, pressing yourself closer to him. "Azriel," you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair.

He switched to your other breast, giving it the same attention. His fingers brushed over your hip, your thigh, before finally slipping between your legs. He found you wet and ready. The fabric of your dress bunched awkwardly at your waist, but neither of you cared— too tired to bother with maneuvering it over your head, too lost in the desire that flooded your senses. 

Azriel could have teased you, could have made the anticipation agonizing, could have spread his touches so far and light that you were begging him—like usual. Oh how he loved turning you to putty in his hands, watching as you writhed against him. But not tonight, not as he felt you beneath him, as he smelled your sweet arousal.

He spread you open with his hands, holding your legs apart as he took in your glistening core. His touch was tender, reverent, as he brought a finger through your folds, feeling your warmth and wetness. A low groan escaped him. 

"My mate," he murmured against your skin, his breath warm against your most intimate place. “So beautiful.”

You pushed yourself up on your elbows to watch Azriel as he dipped a finger inside you. His eyes locked onto yours as he curled his finger inside you, eliciting another soft moan from your parted lips. You arched your back at the sensation, head falling back slightly. 

Azriel brought his mouth to your clit, his tongue teasing and circling the sensitive bud. You looked down at him, mouth slightly open, eyes heavy with desire, and chest heaving. One of your hands went to grab your breast, fingertips tracing where your nipple still glistened with his saliva. Shadows met your hands, twisting around your breasts in a gentle, teasing attention — flitting just above the sensitive hardened peaks. 

Azriel added another finger inside you, stretching and filling you as he continued to lavish attention on your clit. His fingers and shadows worked in tandem, pleasuring you in ways that sent shivers down your spine. Each touch brought you closer to the edge of ecstasy, a simmering, building feeling of pleasure in your core. 

His free hand moved to grip your thigh, holding you steady as he brought you closer to climax. His eyes never left yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your pulse quicken even more. You could feel his fingers inside you, his tongue on you, and the tug of your beautiful bond deep in your chest. 

You let go completely, surrendering to the sensations that filled your body— with a cry of his name, you shattered. 

He lapped up your essence, savoring every drop of your pleasure. Rising above you, chest heaving, he breathed heavily as he looked down at you, something so beautiful, so real, beneath him.

You reached out to him.  "I'm here," you whispered, your voice filled with love and an overwhelming, dripping need. "Please. I need you."

Azriel nodded slowly, his desire mirrored in his eyes as he maneuvered himself to rid himself of his underwear. He returned to you, his body aligning with yours, skin against skin, a tug at the connection that weaved your souls together. 

He hovered above you, hands tracing the curves of your body, savoring how you felt under his hands— Gods, he’d never tire of feeling you, never be close enough. His light, his salvation, his mate.

He leaned down and pulled you into a kiss. 

"Anything for you, my love," Azriel whispered against your lips, his voice thick with longing and devotion. The sound of it made you clench everything below the waist. His fingers trailed down your body, finding their way between your legs once more. He guided himself to your entrance, teasingly brushing against you, and the movement elicited a gasp from your lips.

You wrapped your legs around him, urging him closer, hands gripping his shoulders as you pulled him into you. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pushed himself past your folds, a low moan escaping his lips as he sank into you. 

"Fuck," he murmured. "So perfect."

Azriel intertwined your fingers and held your hands gently above you, his head resting in the crook of your neck. With every roll of his hips, he whispered mantras of love, devotion, and praise, his voice a soothing, low cadence against your skin. You greedily drank in every word, feeling them flitter through your body like aphrodisiacs. 

The pace was slow, deliberate, almost lazy compared to the usual fervor with which Azriel ravished you. But it was exactly what he needed—soft, sensual, a reminder that you both existed in this moment, here and now.

You tightened your grip on his hands, urging him closer, wanting to merge your souls as intimately as your bodies were intertwined. Azriel kissed every area of exposed skin, thrusting into you as your cunt welcomed him greedily. 

He pulled out of you as far as he could just to slowly ease into you once again. Each thrust was thoughtful, intentional, and your whimpers grew louder as he continued. Azriel traced his nose over your shoulder, whispering your name to make you turn your head— just enough for him to kiss you. 

Mate, mate, mate. 

Safe.

Azriel groaned into your mouth, savoring your taste and how perfectly your body remembered him— how well you took him. 

He was alive and safe, in a bed that he shared with his mate— a mate that was writhing underneath him as he pushed you to another brink of pleasure.

Azriel's forehead rested against yours and he released your hands gently, allowing you to wrap them around his neck— bringing one to glide along his extended wing, eliciting a shudder throughout his body. 

"I love you," you whispered against him, “I’m here.”

Those words were all it took for Azriel to deepen his movements, for his pace to quicken as he leaned into you more, kissing you deeply as he rolled into you.

With a shared cry of pleasure, you both found release together, bodies trembling as Azriel emptied himself inside you. 

After he pulled out, Azriel spent a moment kissing you tenderly, his lips moving across your skin with reverence and affection. You both swayed together in the aftermath, riding the waves of blissful satisfaction as you lazily kissed one another, limbs still entangled like braided rope. 

He gently pulled himself away and made his way to the bathroom, returning with a warm cloth and a lazy, adoring smile. Azriel cleaned you up with gentle strokes, his kisses following the path of the cloth as he murmured sweet nothings against your skin. My beautiful mate, my treasure for life. Real, sacred— and all his. Each touch was a whisper of love and care, an intimate ritual that had grown to a routine as the bond deepened between you.

Once he was done, Azriel crawled back into bed next to you, pulling you into his chest. He wrapped an arm around you, cocooning you with his wing to keep you warm. He didn’t mind those cold fingers of yours, didn’t mind the chills they sent across his body, but tonight he would keep you close, keep you warm. His other hand found yours, placing it gently atop his heart, where you could feel its steady beat, matching yours in perfect rhythm.

Sighing contentedly, Azriel closed his eyes. He let the scent of you fill his nostrils, let the sound of your breathing fill his ears, and soon fell into a blissful, nightmare-free slumber. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

thank u to this anon who suggested i do something like this following my one-shot memories! pls enjoy this lil piece while i work on malice and LCL!! <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @justyouraveragekleemain

@panther-girl-124 @bubybubsters @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia

azriel tag list🫶🏻:

@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty

[honeyed-hedonist]

Pairings: Aged Up!Damian Wayne x Reader Word Count: 3.1k Summary: You're always just a phone call away for Damian, so he calls when he needs you. And tonight? He really fucking needs you. Warnings: SMUT--MINORS DNI. unprotected sex, creampie, degradation, size kink if you squint, face slapping (once), oral (male & female receiving), orgasm control (kind of???), basically just 3k words of Dami tearing you apart in the best way. A/N: Hello again! Posting another old fic on mine. I still blame @heli0s-writes for sending me on a Damian Wayne spiral. I will never recover from this and it's all her fault. Enjoy :3

IF YOU LIKE THIS STORY, PLEASE REBLOG IT.

It’s late. It’s always late when he calls you—3am and you’re answering the phone, the pitch of his voice deepened and gruff with need. A need that only you can satiate. “Come over, darling.” You’re out the door before you end the call, hailing a cab to the manor, pulse racing because you know what’s coming.

The path you walk when you reach the gate is so familiar, you could do it with your eyes closed, feet carrying you to the front door. There’s no need to knock or ring the bell, the second your shoes hit the porch Damian swings it wide open, the cowl stripped off, blackened liner still smeared around those beautiful green eyes. He’s looking at you like he wants to tear you apart, but you’ve always had an affinity for pretty, dangerous things. 

A step closer and you catch the way the warm light of the entryway bounces off of the thin gold chain hanging around his neck. It sparkles, and your mind conjures up the image of it swinging above your face when you’re folded in half on his bed. It makes you clench, taking another step while your eyes make the slow trek downward, his bare chest and rippling stomach that cuts to narrow, defined hips has your mouth watering. You know what they feel like against your tongue, beneath your fingers.

There’s no need for words, his calloused hand closing around your wrist to tug you inside, the heavy door shutting with a definitive click that reverberates off the walls and arched ceilings of Wayne Manor. He’s already hard, you can feel it when his arm snakes its way around your waist to pull you even closer. And then he’s crouching down, sweeping his other hand behind your knees to lift you into his arms.

You’re trapped in the heat of his gaze, the salty, earthy smell of his skin--still damp with sweat from his night spent in triple-weave kevlar. Fingers dance up the back of his neck, tangling into that silky, black hair, and his chest vibrates with something akin to a growl. It sends your pulse rushing between your legs, desire warm and heavy in your belly as he walks you up the stairs towards the master suite. 

The second you’re past the threshold, you reach for his face, wanting to feel his hot mouth on yours, but he doesn’t budge, the corner of his lips quirking in an amused smile at the whine that comes tumbling out of your throat when you try, and fail, to kiss him. “Patience, beloved.” Damian is gentle when he sets you down on the lush, thickly weaved rug that spreads out from beneath his bed, forefinger and thumb coming up to pinch your chin. His nose brushes yours when he speaks again, breath hot and sweet as it fans out across your face. “Be good.”

You watch with baited breath as he settles himself on the edge of the mattress, thighs spread open, palms flat against his knees, his posture perfectly straight. He looks like a king on his throne, and you’re prepared to bow at his feet. “You’re very overdressed, don’t you agree? Perhaps you should remedy that.” The tone of his voice leaves no room for argument, your hands falling to the hem of your sleep shirt, tugging it hastily over your head. Your shorts are your next target, swiftly yanking them down your legs. Shoes, socks, and bra all join the pile of your discarded clothes after that, and Damian hums his approval. “Much better.” 

Lifting one of his hands, he points to the space between his feet. “Come.” There’s no hesitation from you, moving immediately with a step forward, but then he scoffs, eyebrows drawn down in admonishment. “Really, pet? Is that how you’re meant to approach me? As my equal?” His words make you short circuit, brain muddled with the fog of submission, because you will always submit to him--it’s not even a question at this point. He’s in charge, he owns you, and he knows it.

Dropping to your hands and knees, you crawl towards him slowly, eyes trained on his face, trying to read him--but Damian has mastered the art of impassiveness. His calves brush against your shoulders as you wedge yourself between his legs, the only sign of his pleasure is the tent in the front of his joggers and the rumbling in his chest. It’s enough--has you salivating from your place on the floor, eagerly awaiting instruction.

He leans forward, strong hand circling your throat, fingers tightening until he can feel the ripple of your swallow. “Have you missed me?” He asks, but you know better than to open your mouth, choosing instead to nod your head. Damian hums thoughtfully, free hand stroking at his slightly stubbled chin. “Hmm, I’m not sure I’m convinced. Why don’t you show me?”

“Yes, sir.” You answer, and he relents, releasing your throat to lean back on the bed, propped up with his arms extended so he can watch you--he’s always watching you--calculating, observing, learning. Damian Wayne knows all of the ways to take you apart, and all of the ways to put you back together again, but now he’s testing you, wants to see just how much you’ve learned since you began spending nights in his bed.

Shaking fingers dip beneath the waistband of his sweats, tugging them down his thighs until the heavy weight of his cock springs free, slapping against the hard plane of his stomach with a dense thud. You moan, how can you not? He’s impressively large, perfectly curved towards his bellybutton, nestled in coarse, dark hair, thick and throbbing just for you. His head is shining with pre, glistening in the orange glow from the roaring fire in the hearth nearby. Your eyes meet, faux innocence batting up at him from beneath your lashes. But Damian knows better, knows how filthy you are, and he’s losing his patience.

You let your hand circle the base, tongue dragging a hot, wet line beneath his length until your lips close around the tip, precum tangy against your tastebuds. You moan again, eyes rolling back. The musk of his night perusing the city is still fresh on his skin, and he always tastes so god damn good like this. Dirty. Natural. It spurs you onward, his tip popping into the back of your throat as you take him all the way down. He reaches out after that, fingers gentle against the skin of your neck, his cock seated so fully inside the wet heat of your mouth that he can feel himself beneath your esophagus when you swallow. It makes him grunt, satisfied with your efforts.

It’s all the encouragement you need to move again, cheeks hollowed as you suck him off. The only sounds in the room are your labored breaths and the nasty, wet squelch of your mouth on his cock. Damian’s eyes are blown black, watching you like a predator tracking its prey, hand shooting out to curl into the hair at the crown of your head and shove you down until your nose is pressing against his taut abdomen. He holds you there, testing your limits, keeping you still, voice strained with his pleasure when he speaks. “Swallow.” He commands, and you oblige, whimpering while your thighs shift in an attempt to alleviate the ache in your cunt. 

“What’s wrong, pet? Do you want to cum?” Damian smirks at the desperate look in your eyes before he answers his own question. “Too bad.” He mocks your arousal, knowing all you really want right now is for him to fuck a hole right through you, but he needed to feel your warm, wet mouth first.  And Damian will never apologize for having his needs met, because he always reciprocates in kind. Especially with you.

He volleys with you back and forth, letting you have control before ultimately usurping you to fuck your face. When he’s satisfied, your cheeks are hot, the remnants of the mascara that you carelessly forgot to wash off is smeared down your face, and your chin is covered in your own spit as he yanks you free from his cock by your hair. “Tch--look at you, such a mess.” Damian’s free hand breaks the string of spittle connecting your mouth to the tip of his dick and smears it across your face. He’s not gentle, and you don’t want him to be, moaning open-mouthed when his palm cracks across your cheek. “Get up.”

Your actions are instantaneous, done without pause or thought, rising to your feet with his hand still fisted in your hair. He stands, too, spinning you both around until your calves hit the mattress and he shoves you backwards. You fall gracelessly onto his comforter, and he gives you no reprieve, no chance to catch your breath before he’s peeling your thighs apart to inspect your slit. Your panties are an encumbrance, one that has him growling as his long, dextrous fingers tear the fabric clean off, ripping them away to toss on the floor. 

He wastes no time, hands framing your pussy to peel your lips apart, leaning forward, he takes a deep inhale, the tip of his nose bumping against your throbbing clit. It makes you jolt, body bowing off of the bed, but his eyes cut to yours and you still immediately, knowing that he’ll stop if you don’t behave. “You have the most beautiful cunt, and she’s all mine.” Damian hums, mostly to himself, pink tongue slipping out of his mouth to circle your clit slowly. Your hands fist his expensive bedding, knuckles bone-white as he begins to work you over with his mouth.

He’s an expert at many things--knows over a hundred ways to kill a man with his bare hands--and can get you to gush against his mouth in a matter of minutes. Damian plays your body like a fine-tuned instrument, hits all the right notes to make you see stars. He curls those long, rough fingers of his against the velvet walls of your pussy, free hand applying pressure at your belly, while his plump lips suction against your pulsing clit. Barely two minutes in and you’re already hurtling towards bliss, whining and whimpering and writhing--all for him. 

“Dami, please!” You want your release. Want to cum all over his handsome face. He can feel it in the way your cunt grips his fingers, fluttering in time with the expert swipes of his tongue. He knows it’s only a few more licks until you’re careening into your orgasm. His eyes meet yours between the valley of your breasts, glittering with mirth as you cry out, begging shamelessly for him to let you cum. And then, like the menace he is, Damian releases your clit with a wet pop, effectively slamming you into a brick wall, your orgasm slipping right through your fingers with a pained cry.

Tears of desperation brim in your eyes and he tuts, rising to his feet, forearm wiping your glistening arousal from his lips and chin. “Do you have no shame? Begging like a common whore.” He’s on you in a flash, joggers discarded, fully naked as his hand once again finds your throat and he snarls above you. “Your orgasms belong to me, beloved. I decide when you deserve to cum, and tonight, you’ll be coming all over my cock. Do I make myself clear?” 

He expects an answer, but you’re transfixed, completely mystified by his overpowering, eclipsing presence above you. Damian makes you feel small. It fogs your brain, makes it hard to do anything other than mewl, thighs parting to accommodate his hips as he settles above you.  “Tch--useless little thing. All you’re good for is being my tight hole to fuck, isn’t that right, pet?” You nod, helpless and desperate beneath him, every nerve ending in your body thrumming like live wires. It’s a fact that he captializes on, slapping the mushroomed tip of his dick against your drenched slit, the wet sound that reaches his ears making him moan.

There isn’t a sound on Earth prettier than hearing Damian Wayne moan for you, your mouth falling open as you gaze up at him in awe. It’s the perfect opportunity for him to sluice the middle fingers of his left hand over your tongue. Ever the obedient pet, your lips close automatically, suckling as those same fingers push so far back they make you choke. Through your bleary eyes, you can see the sadistic smile that graces Damian’s face. It’s dangerous, and it sends a fresh rush of arousal leaking from your cunt. 

It’s almost like he can smell it, and he probably can, his irises disappearing until all that’s left are the whites of his eyes as he inhales deeply. There’s no warning, no preparation, just his gaze rolling back to meet yours when he snaps his hips forward with perfect aim, his cock stretching you open and filling you in a way only he can. It makes you scream, your back beginning to arch, but Damian is right there, pulling his fingers from your mouth to grip your throat and pin you back down against the mattress.

His pace is unforgiving. It’s brutal and deep, carving his way into your body with harsh thrusts that have the headboard knocking flecks of plaster off the walls until they cascade down like rain onto the comforter. “You. Belong. To me.” He spits it through gritted teeth, and it’s not something you’ll ever deny. Your relationship may be unconventional, but you wouldn’t trade it. Any time spent with Dami, to you, is a gift, especially if it means he’ll fuck you absolutely boneless in order to reassert his control on those nights when he feels like the world around him is spiraling. 

You take it all--every thrust, the gnashing of his teeth into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, the suffocating grip around your throat, the drizzle of spit that falls onto your waiting tongue when he pries your jaw open. Anything Damian dishes out, you take without complaint, because while he craves control, you crave subjugation--the metaphorical yin to his yang.

Your voice is hoarse when you try to speak, breath stuttering with every powerful roll of Damian’s hips, barely heard over the lewd sounds of being fucked open. Each strike of his cock inside of you hits that spongy mound of tissue, dragging his silky, hot length against it with each withdrawal. It has you climbing right back towards your inevitable peek, the only question is-- will he let you finish this time?

“Dami--m’gonna--please, m’so close, baby.” You wheeze, and he smiles, teeth blindingly white even though the haze of your oxygen deprivation. You find some reprieve from the deliciously pleasurable pain when he finally peels his fingers back from your throat, hands sliding to your shins to fold them up and into your chest. His pace never lessens, he never slips out, following the bending of your body, the new angle allowing an even deeper stroke inside your gummy walls. It has you keening, hands clawing at his chest, his gold chain bouncing against the backs of your palms.

“Very well, I think you’ve earned it.” Reaching between your bent legs, Damian’s thumb slices through the lips of your cunt that are spread wide around his cock to seek out your clit. He’s precise, circling the aching bud in a way that makes you choke, throat vibrating with a squeal. You’re close again, rapidly approaching your release, so fast you can barely keep up, the pressure in your belly building to an unbearable tightness. This time, when you meet his eyes, the malice is gone, replaced with what you can only describe as devotion. “Go on, make a mess on my cock, cum for me.”

That’s all it takes, his permission coupled with the expert swirl of his thumb and the perfect drag of his cock have you seeing stars, bursting with a cry of his name. You scream, back arching up, chest to chest with him as he cradles you close. “I know, beloved, I know. Let it all out.” He coos, still thrusting wildly through the resistance as your pussy tries to shove him out with each fluttering pulse. Damian can feel your cum weeping out around him, it wets his thighs, dribbles down the seam of his sack, drips down onto the mattress. It makes him groan, balls tightening as he reaches the point where he can no longer stave off his own release. 

With a low moan of your name he pumps into you once, twice--the third sending the first spray of his cum deep in your womb. You can feel the pulse of his length as he bottoms out with a grunt, forehead pressing against yours, breath hot against your mouth. Jet after jet of semen coats your insides, filling you up so full it almost hurts. You whimper out, and Damian shushes you, cupping your face to plant a soft kiss against your lips. “Shh,” he murmurs. “You did so well for me, my darling. Such a good girl. I’m so proud of you.”

All you can manage is a hum, Damian’s fingers carding through your sweat-slicked hair as he peppers soft kisses over your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your forehead. This has got to be your favorite part, because while he knows how to completely wreck you, he’s also right there to pick up the pieces and stitch you right back together again. 

He carries you into the bathroom, runs a bath for the both of you, coddles and keeps you close until the pair of you are falling into his freshly stripped bed beneath the sheets. His arm is slung snugly around your waist, his lips on the back of your neck as you settle in preparation of sleep. “I’d like you to move your things into the manor.” His voice is soft, there’s a hesitation there that is so uncharacteristic it nearly shocks you back from exhaustion. But again, all you’re able to offer him is a hum of acknowledgement, wiggling further into the warmth of his body, heavy eyelids closing as your consciousness wanes and you drift. 

You’ll tackle this moving in business when you’ve got a clear head and a full belly, but the prospect of taking the next step in your relationship with Damian brings you the most pleasant, peaceful sleep you’ve had in years.

[ovaryacted]

RESTLESS

PAIRING: RE2!Leon x fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Leon wakes up in the middle of the night with you on his mind. He can't help but indulge in his desires when you're asleep next to him, but is surprised to find out that you won't let him get away with it so easily.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: 18+/MDNI. NSFW. Porn without plot. Femdom. Mommy Kink. Edging/Orgasm Denial. Begging. Degradation/Praise. Slight Somnophilia. Hint of fluff at the end. Just Leon being needy.

WC: 3.2k

NOTES: This is the first installment of my kinktober. I hope you like it, I had fun writing this and just love sub Leon. Let me know if I left out anything in the warning. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

《 Kinktober Masterlist 2023 ⟡ Main Masterlist 》

Leon couldn’t sleep.

Sure, having trouble like this was normal to him. The graphic and consistent nightmares he used to have would still haunt him from time to time. There was no remedy for that, his memories forever a mark on his subconscious that would continue to be a part of his psyche for as long as he’ll remember.

Though the reason he was up at this time was far from remembering the countless horrors he saw on that terrible night in September. The only thing keeping him up nowadays was you, the only person who can both comfort and torment him alike.

All curled up on your side, you slept as he watched quietly behind you. A bad habit he developed when you two started dating early on, waking himself up to watch over your breathing to ease his anxieties. It was a way to affirm to himself that you were real, that you wouldn’t disappear the second his head hit the pillow and he woke up the next morning.

His tired blue eyes trailed over the way your chest rose and fell with every intake of breath you took, the cotton fabric of the shirt you stole from him accentuating the shape of your breasts when you exhaled. Soft sighs would pass your lips, no sign of a dream present in your mind while your hair splayed over the pillow underneath you. Despite the sheets covering your bottom half, he could already envision the thin shorts you usually wore to bed rising up your thighs.

Leon may have woken up in the middle of the night, the alarm clock on his bedside table reading 2:15 am in bright red analog. But he was wide awake now, his mind focused on one thing. You.

Carefully, he brought himself closer to you, wrapping one of his arms around your waist and pressing his body against yours. He’s done this a hundred times over, never been a problem, but the second your hips shifted backward a quiet hum settled in his throat. He dug his nose into the back of your neck, taking in the scent of your body wash and shampoo. A comforting mixture of jasmine with a hint of white musk filled his senses, a smell that he reserved just for you, one that he’d always recognize as home.

Leon noticed you didn’t stir in your sleep, still oblivious to the developing hardness against your rear. He didn’t mean to, or maybe he did, but he couldn’t help it even if he tried. You fidgeted the slightest bit, moving closer to the warmth you felt behind you and he knew he was in trouble, the fabric of his briefs starting to feel tighter.

One of his hands moved underneath the shirt you wore, going up your lower stomach and coming towards your chest. He kneaded your breasts gently, an action he’d do at random as a stress reliever when you two would cuddle.

His thumb brushed against your nipple, the nub hardening underneath his fingertips. He felt your breathing hitch before he heard it, a loud exhale followed soon after but you remained asleep. Leon continued his groping, growing harder against your back as he moved his body to gyrate against you.

Your shorts had risen completely now, one of your legs bending at the knee and lifting higher against the mattress. His other hand twitched as it slipped between your legs, lightly cupping you against the material of your underwear. He could feel your warmth slipping through the cotton, the gusset growing moist with every pass of his fingers. The hushed grunt that passed his lips couldn’t be contained, starting to gently kiss your neck while his hands roamed your body.

His cock started to swell in his briefs, pressing himself closer so he could feel your heat seeping through the material of your panties that now clung to you. Even in your sleep, your body knew Leon was the one touching you, the familiarity becoming muscle memory as he felt you get wetter under him.

“Fuck…”, he cursed under his breath, moving your underwear to the side to feel you bare. Slick developed on his fingertips as he brushed over your pulsing clit, warm just the way he liked. He could feel your heartbeat underneath the palm of his hand from where he squeezed your breast, noticing how you grew more breathless with every pass of his hands.

He was growing lost in the feel of you, of how your pliant body continued to show him how badly you wanted him, needed him to make you feel better. Fingers growing wet with your arousal, he swears he could hear a moan slipping from your lips as your hips arched towards him.

Deft fingers moved to your entrance, feeling it clench around the idea of being filled by something. Tweaking your nipple again with intention, he ground his hips harder against your lower spine, shuddering as he did. It should be sick what he was doing, trying to get a feel of you while slept right next to him, but he didn’t seem to care. Growing flushed from the fondling, he lost track of time with his face dug in the crease of where your neck and shoulder met. He was stuck in a world of his own, getting ready to insert his fingers into your hole until he heard you speak.

“What are you doing Leon?”, your voice still laced with sleep brought him back to reality, causing him to freeze with his fingers still against you.

“Shit, I-I…”, he didn’t have an explanation for his actions, refusing to tell you how he couldn’t sleep because he just needed to feel you.

“You thought you could touch me while I slept and get away with it?”, the rasp in your voice only made his dick pulse, how you shamed him for his desires despite your body saying otherwise.

“I’m sorry. Wanted to feel you, couldn’t sleep”, he mumbled against you, hiding his face and embarrassed of his actions, but not guilty enough to pull his hands away from your body.

“What did I tell you about waking me up like this?”, you started to move now, taking his hands out of your underwear much to Leon’s dismay.

You flipped over to look at him, seeing just how flustered your lover was beside you. Even through the darkness of your bedroom, you could see the way his face blushed as your eyes met. Taking a second to trail your gaze over him, your sight was directed to the obvious bulge in Leon’s navy briefs, his shirt doing nothing to cover it from you.

“Told me not to touch you in your sleep…”

“And you didn’t listen to me, again”, you came closer to him to lay a hand on his chest, appeasing Leon’s desires even more.

“I’m sorry…just love you so much I can’t help it sometimes”, that comment made you smile, a statement you knew was the truth.

Ever since the beginning of your relationship, Leon was like a puppy, always attached and wanting to be near you. It was a comfort thing, wanting to feel you whenever he could with physical touch and quality time being his biggest love languages. He was clingy in an endearing way, and that trait carried on in the bedroom, one that you loved to exploit.

“I know baby. But now look at what you did, got all hard ‘cause I was sleeping next to you. Is this what you want?”, you leaned your body more against him, your hand caressed his chest and moved up to clutch at the hair at the base of his neck.

“Fucking please…need it so bad”, it was his turn for his breathing to hitch, looking at you with a pout that only made you want to kiss him.

“Yeah? You need mommy to make you feel all better?”, the single phrase made Leon moan, feeling you come towards his neck to kiss his throat.

“Please, I want you mommy”, a confession you’d love to hear on repeat if you could.

You smirked, laying chest to chest and tilting your head up to kiss him gently. He whimpered against you, holding your face by the jaw. Lips meshed together, your tongue quickly found his, exploring his mouth while he gladly let you. With a sneaky hand, you moved to massage the bulge hidden underneath the navy material of his underwear. A whisper for more filtered through your ears as he shuddered under you, making his cravings more intense.

“My needy baby, always so desperate for me”, you said as you pulled away from him, watching Leon nod and bite his lip.

Taking his cock out of his briefs and pulling them down until he could kick them off, you started to pump him with a quick jerk of your wrist. Thumb against his slit, the slickness of his pre-cum covered your digit, your mouth watering at the prospect of running your tongue along his body. He tried hard not to be so loud with his sounds, but the more you jerked him off, the more depraved he became.

“Woke yourself up thinking about my pussy you just had to wake me up too right?”, you were toying with him, feeling his cock throb in your hand the more you spoke.

“Yeah, just missed you, missed mommy so much”

“Always waking me up because you’re horny. Can’t keep doing this to me babe, I need my sleep”, you started to pump him faster, Leon’s fingers going towards your wrist and squeezing, signaling he was getting close. “But you’re not getting off that easily, not this time”

You stopped and pulled your hand away completely, Leon’s eyes shooting open and a pitiful whine left his mouth as you stopped stroking him. Hard cock bobbing against his lower stomach, his hips jerked in search of your touch yet you didn’t provide it.

“I’m sorry mommy, I’m sorry just fuck…please don’t stop. I’ll be good, promise”

“You said that last time and didn’t listen to me. You’re breaking your promises to me baby, that’s not what I taught you”

He pouted again, already so eager for more that he had to close his eyes and try to control his breathing. His hands pawed at your hips, grasping your body as you didn’t give him what he so badly desired. 

“I won’t do it again. Won’t touch you when you sleep. Please…I can’t…”

You sometimes felt pity for your boyfriend, how he’s reached the point of not being able to get off without you anymore. He could be insatiable in that regard, not that you complained, but seeing him this pathetic always managed to ruin your underwear more times than you could count. You knew, regardless of how many times he said he wouldn’t do it again, you’d be back in this position soon enough.

Your hand went back to stroke him, a sigh of relief passing him as his hips moved towards your fist. You kissed up his neck and jaw, nipping towards his earlobe and sucking it between your lips. Leon was panting now, fucking up into your hand and feeling you tighten your fingers around him in the way he liked. His thighs twitched underneath you, another strained moan being swallowed as you kissed him once more.

Leon’s groaning got higher in pitch, resorting to pleased hums the closer he got to falling over the edge. He was so close, so close to getting that relief he longed for all night. But the second the rope of tension was about to snap in his lower gut, your touch disappeared from him again, and he could feel himself ready to cry from frustration.

“No…no please…please stop teasing me. I need you”, he was aching now, and you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

“You gonna be good for mommy if I give you what you want?”, you took off your shorts and panties as you spoke, multitasking while Leon was stuck in a daze of his own.

“Yeah, yes I’ll be good. I’ll be good for you mommy just please, I can’t take it anymore”

At this rate, Leon would drive himself crazy with just the thought of being able to feel your cunt wrapped around him. With a grin of pure delight, you straddled his lap, bare pussy against his stiff length. That sensation alone sent trembles down Leon’s spine, grinding against your wetness. The fact that you were wet from all of this only made him want you more, pure desire written in his dilated eyes.

“Be good and let me fuck you to sleep baby”, you murmured, shifting your hips more to feel the tip of Leon’s cock rub against your clit, gasping at the contact.

You positioned yourself higher above him while holding him at the base, shifting down to slip him inside you. You hissed at the slight stretch as he filled you, having him with no prep like this would be uncomfortable if you weren’t completely soaked.

The sound that left his mouth was guttural, deep from within his chest. In any other setting, he would be completely embarrassed if someone else knew what he sounded like in bed. But god you fucking loved it, loved when he was so far gone his pleasure was unrestrained.

“Just fuck me, need you to fuck me”, he begged, fingers digging into your thighs to get you to move. His eyes were already half-lidded, breathing heavily through his nose when you clenched around him.

You lifted yourself until just the tip was inside you and slammed back down. Your hands gripped his chest, beginning to bounce yourself with enthusiasm. Leon’s hands were everywhere, growing overwhelmed with all the pleasure he felt. They kneaded at your thighs with every shift of your hips, sneaking further up your body to pinch your nipples under his shirt. Riding him like this when you were half asleep and wearing his clothes made his brain turn to complete mush.

“So good, feel so good”, his words were slurring together, thrusting back up to meet your movements.

You leaned down towards him again and arched your back as you rocked against him with more force. The change in position allowed his tip to nudge into your g-spot every time you came back down with an audible slap of skin. Sweet mewls spilled out of you, your rhythm picking up enough to make the bed creak underneath you both. Leon’s hands went towards your ass and squeezed, throat bobbing as he struggled to swallow with drool slipping past his plush lips.

“Always so good for letting me fuck you like this, such a good boy for me”, you praised him, a wanton cry filled the room followed by squelching coming from between your legs.

He was growing delirious, head lolling to the side as he lost his focus. Eyes glossed over in euphoria, you could tell he was getting close again. The insistent throbbing inside you grew more prominent the second you swiveled your hips with every bounce. Leon whimpered, praying to the higher powers of the universe you’ll finally stop edging him and let him cum the way he needed.

“I’m close, please let me cum. Fucking please…”, he didn’t even know what he was saying anymore, his orgasm at the forefront of his mind.

“You want to cum inside me? Fill mommy’s pussy up?”, he nodded dumbly at you, growing pussywhipped at your words and thrusting up into you harder to match your pace.

“Yesss. Wanna make you feel good, want to fill you up. Please, please can I?”

You weren’t too far off from your release, the way Leon spoke and cried out for you was enough for your own orgasm to crest. His thumb came to play with your clit as you moved, still having enough sense to make you cum with him. You went to pull at the hair on his scalp, forcing him to meet your eyes and order him one more time.

“Be a good boy and cum for me”

“Thank you, thank you mommy, fuck-”, he babbled as his thrusting grew more frantic.

You tightened around him, the pulsing of your walls sending him headfirst into his release. A filthy groan slipped from him, fingers holding you tightly and bottoming out inside you. Your body was filled with warmth as he painted your walls white, whining when you kept riding him until your orgasm took over your body. Your thighs shook above him, milking him dry with your face tucked in his neck and biting at his skin so you didn’t moan too loudly.

You could feel the tremors running through Leon underneath you, his breathing shaky as blonde strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. The both of you were covered in a light layer of sweat, the scent of sex filling your bedroom and surrounding you both. Lifting yourself completely off of him, you gasped at the feel of being left empty, the sensation of his warm cum dripping out of you and down your thigh.

Tired arms wrapped around your body, light kisses placed on your skin as Leon nuzzled further against you. You let him curl into you then, not saying anything when he pulled you in closer to lay down on the bed with him. Your fingers ran through his hair, feeling him sigh and rub caressing circles on your lower back.

“Can’t keep waking me up like that Leon, our sleeping habits are bad enough”, your gentle voice cut through the stillness of the room, your lover’s attention back on you.

“I know, sorry”, he gave you an apologetic kiss on your shoulder, and you accepted it like you always did. You didn’t actually care about being woken up like this, if anything a part of you liked it more than you could admit.  

“You feeling sleepy yet?”, you asked him, already knowing he’ll be asleep in the next few minutes if you continued to soothe him like this.

“Mhm, thank you. I love you”, was all he had to say really, and you gave him another smile, whispering those three words back to him.

You kissed over his face tenderly, starting at his forehead, his nose, his cheek, and then his lips. He happily reciprocated, a small smile on his face despite his eyes being closed. Throwing the sheets over the both of you again, you moved to have Leon’s head lay on your chest, his ear on the left side to listen to your heartbeat.

He was quickly lulled to sleep by the beating rhythm under him, soft snores coming from slightly opened lips. You kissed the top of his head, answering the call of sleep along with him, and mentally preparing to snooze your alarm that will wake the both of you up in a few hours.

©️ ovaryacted 2023. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

taglist: @roseglazedlens @kennedyswhore @httpsuguru @httpsvix @daydreamrot @kmt123whatsthetea @cinnarette

[moonstruckme]

whimsical muggle reader who loves taking note of strange occurrences (i swear my shoes weren't here! like luna basically lol) and marauder bf who can't tell her yet about magic but loves doing some tricks for her to find. (you can pick which marauder! i was gonna go remus but i'm biased lol)

Omg I had so much fun with this, thank you for requesting!

Sirius Black x whimsical!reader ♡ 657 words

“You’re such an old woman, Moony,” Sirius says. “Is that a gray hair I see?” 

“Your fault,” Remus replies mildly. 

“We’re not all obligated to go clubbing whenever the fancy strikes you,” James argues on Remus’ behalf. “I’ve got a match tomorrow, and our poor Moony’s head is hurting him. Give us a rest.” 

“No rest!” Sirius cries, standing from the couch as if he’s addressing a weary army rather than two reluctant men. “Rest is for the elderly and geriatric.” He looks at you hopefully. “You want to go out, don’t you darling?” 

“I’m not partial to clubs,” you reply, but your attention is already elsewhere. “Remus, if you have a headache, you should have Sirius make you some of his tea. He made me some when my head hurt last week and it set me right as rain.” You glance at your boyfriend, considering you with peculiar smugness. “And the same happened when I had the hiccups a few days ago. He has a remedy for everything.” 

James cocks an eyebrow. “Does he?” 

You hum in prideful affirmation, but Sirius seems almost sheepish as he sits back down on the couch, tucking you against his side. “I’ve always been good at brewing,” he says to James with a shrug. 

“You should make him your tea,” you urge softly. 

Sirius kisses the side of your head. “Moony’s headaches are a bit tougher than yours, angel,” he says, adding at your troubled look, “but I’ll make him some later if he likes.”

“Hey,” James says brightly, “what if we go to the pub on fifth? It’s usually quiet in there. We’ll just stay an hour or so.” 

You’ve been dating Sirius long enough to know how this goes with his friends—one hour will turn into four before any of them notice—but nod complaisantly at the hum of assent that goes up from the other boys. 

“Let’s go.” Sirius hops back up before anyone can change their minds. He grabs your coat from the hook by the door, holding it out for you. 

“Oh.” Your mood sinks slightly as you remember your coat. “I should probably go get another from my room. I tore that one yesterday, remember?” 

“I fixed it for you.” 

Sirius gives it a shake, signaling for you to take it from him. You do, looking at him in awe. 

“Really, Siri? That’s so nice of you.” You feel along the hem of your jacket in search of the split you’d made the day before. You can’t find it, nor any of the smaller blemishes the garment had acquired after years of wear. “How did you do this?” 

“I sewed it,” he says breezily, shrugging on his own well-loved leather coat. 

You run your fingers over where you could swear the tear had been. “There’s not even a line or anything.” 

Remus shoots him a look you can’t decipher, and Sirius gives you a somewhat thin-lipped smile. “What can I say? I’m magic with a needle and thread. Put your coat on, baby.” 

You realize then that all three boys are already waiting for you at the door. 

“Oh, sorry.” You carefully pull on your newly impeccable jacket, following them outside. “Thank you, Siri.” 

“Anytime,” he vows, hand finding its way into your back pocket as James leads you all to the pub. 

“You’re so good at fixing things,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “My coat, and when you glued my mug back together so well, and when my peperomia came back to life.” 

Sirius chuckles. “It didn’t come back to life, angel.”

“It was dying,” you reason. “I couldn’t get it to stop wilting, but then all of a sudden it perked up.” 

“You must’ve nursed it back to health,” he replies, and his tone is blasé but the smile he shoots you is oddly pleased. He gives your ass a playful squeeze. “Stranger things have happened, sweet thing.” 

Around Sirius, they certainly have.

[ohnoa]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚...𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡

.☘︎ ݁˖ 𝐬𝐲𝐧. 𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦'𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 ᥫ᭡. 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭. 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 ༯ 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑫𝑵𝑰

...word count: 1.1k

...note from irene: don't ask.

nanami kento rests languidly on the edge of the bed, your back in his view as he graciously takes the mantle of an attentive husband.

“i literally can’t with you. you’re a natural at this stuff,” you huff, somewhere between a vent and a bout of praise that he found endearing nonetheless. he raises an eyebrow, albeit dazed by the hypnotic show of you being able to reach your own zipper - who’s a natural at what? you, who resumes your tirade with an obliviousness towards his wandering eyes, is a natural at enchanting him. your hair was blown out, almost reaching your shoulders in cloudy tufts - that had been the last mission of tonight, a hairstyle more laborious than the act of lifting weights. “you can easily get away with being stand-offish, which…i’m not saying you are but…”

he releases a soft chuckle, adjusting his cufflinks, “now, humor me for a second, my love. when have you ever seen me get defensive?” 

“huh?” you tilt your head in confusion eyeing him expectantly through your reflection as you secure your earring. 

“you don’t need to worry about insulting me, darling. i can take it. if you think i’m stand-offish, just say it.”

you briefly turn to face him, bestowing a histrionic look of indignation. “i wasn’t saying that! okay—” you raise your hands in surrender, “you are quite stoic. does that do you justice?”

he offers a hum, one of satisfaction, an invitation for you to continue to the point you had intended to make. and you do just that, bending over the vanity to apply your lip gloss as kento’s attention blithely averts to the curve of your ass. “so, yes. you could get away with what will earn me, at best, some auntie in the corner asking me if i’m okay like…please! i’m fine! i just wanna be left alone!” 

he chuckles along with you again, silently basking in your mirthful exchange… until he notices it. within seconds. the brief drag of hesitation as you began working on your hair. your makeshift puff remains put, arms raised for your hands to take the temporary role of a hair tie and…

…oh dear.

you were staring at your underarms again. in acute disdain. 

he needn’t say a word - this conundrum was as foreign to him as a blue sky. but you’ve only complained about it once, a main focus on the fruitlessness of your spending. all these regimens, remedies and receipts the length of the great wall of china for them to still be there - sizable splotches of pigmentation that you just can’t seem to get rid of, no matter how hard you try.

once, you’ve verbally lamented. 

but more than once, you’d been reluctant to don anything without sleeves, participate in anything remotely related to summer - and if you did, not lifting your arms was the war you were prepared to die in. and tonight, well, you’d had the misfortune of learning life’s indifference. the thin straps of your silky, cream white dress were well in torturing you with a reminder.

a click of the tongue bounces off the walls of your bedroom, and kento tries to think less about how your beauty terrifies him, opting to soothe you with his adeptness in subtlety. 

“darling,” he begins, standing to walk towards you, “i think you should wear your hair down.”

“hm, i think so too,” you smile warmly at him through your reflection, conducting his suggestion by letting go of your hair and instead opting to comb it out, “let’s just hope it doesn’t rain tonight. i honestly don’t get the appeal of outdoor parties.”

all that follows is a soft hum, one of admiration. truly, you are an angel sent from heaven. more than just the angelic glow of your skin under the vanity light, your smile - your soul - can account for that. he watches you, deftly pulling at your coils to maintain the perfect shape - watching you fruitlessly strive to perfect the one thing that has always been just that. you. perfect.

“what?” you meekly acknowledge his stare with a shy smile, halting your movements. 

“my love,” he drags, moving close enough for his hands to reach your hips. your attention moves away from your hair, prompting you to put your comb down and heed the sensation of his chest meeting your back. kento’s hands are calculated, a dexterous trace of your curves striving for a different kind of tenor - a lead from one thing to a delectable other. he moves his lips towards your ear, hazel eyes meeting yours through the mirror in a wordless declaration of unabashed desire. “you know that every inch of you is perfect, right?”

you shiver, at your best to conceal your want to reciprocate by scoffing playfully, “fancy, i’ve never pegged you for the corny type.” 

“i mean it,” he rejoins, ignoring your jest, softly kissing the shell of your ear before he performs the unexpected, a hand moving to gently grab your wrist, lifting your arm up above your head. “every…inch.”

oh. 

he really means it.

heat rises to your cheeks, noting how observant he had been towards your behavior earlier - this wasn’t new to you. you could stain a white shirt with pasta sauce and he’d counter your dismay by saying that it should’ve been there when you first bought it. he’d praise any part of you from head to toe. that realization had been made many moons ago. now, as all attention falls upon your exposed underarm, you forgo the need to protest, keeping your arm raised and resting your hand on the back of your husband’s head, fingertips blissfully pricked by the sharpness of his undercut. 

“mmm…every inch, you say?” you murmur with feigned cynicism, a grin rising as Kento’s hand gently slides down the tricep of your raised arm. 

“mhm…every…inch” your heartbeat is the toms of an acoustic drum set, as he reaches your underarm, lightly grazing the skin with his fingertips, prompting you to shiver at the ticklish sensation. “god, you’re breathtaking…”

he breathes it out like it’s the first time, and the sight before you is…sinful? a burlesque plays out in your reflection, a hand sensually caressing your hip whilst the other continues to draw reverent patterns on the area you’ve detested for eons. your husband, so fucking handsome, buries his face in crook of your neck, inspiring every last bit of your scent, and you still can’t help but huff in amusement, “hm, my black armpits were the ones to bring you to that revelation?”

“you amuse me, my love,” is the muffled, half dismissal towards your counter, followed by a kiss on your neck, “now, let me enjoy you.”

you giggle softly, meek at how your husband's brief praise towards your underarm has ever so slightly titillated you, “we’re gonna be late, you know…”

he perks up, privy to the suggestion you so dared to make, “if memory serves me correctly, it’s you who fails to see the appeal in these outdoor parties.”

[koostarcandy]

remedy

summary: "i think, just think, if you stay here, just for a while, play with my hair or whatever, i may fall asleep, just saying."

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: jeon jungkook rotting my brain fluff

wc: 875 words (tiny baby)

a/n: lmao look who's back because she fell asleep on jungkook's live (like literally my phone was on my face) also for this story's sake, this took place in the dark of morning and not the dawn :] also, also, there's a spoiler for the pale horse by agatha christie in here :P happy 10 years everybody! here's to more ♡

-

"how was the book, my love?"

you trip over the soft rug placed infront of the bathroom door, startled that your boyfriend's still awake at 3:33 a.m. you figured he would fall asleep after watching spiderverse reels and coming up with tons of theories about the final movie of the trilogy. jungkook lies on your side of the bed, fluffy mop of dark hair covering his tired eyes. you take your time with your skincare routine, describing the agatha christie you've been reading for the past 2 and a half hours, knowing it was gonna be a long night anyway.

"it was thallium poisoning, koo, not witchcraft. i never knew your hair could fall out in clumps because of that." you gently massage the serum into your face, looking around from the mirror to jungkook's gaze on you, slight smile playing on his pierced lips.

"did you put this before heading to bed, koo?" he moves his head absentmindedly, eyes darting from the small bottle in your hand to your face back again. you take it as a yes, meticulously placing the bottle in its designated place. you all but rush to bed, sneaking under the covers to his side of the bed.

your beloved shifts from lying to his side to on his tummy, chin placed on his special neck pillow, cheeks getting squished from his hands holding up his head. you scoot closer to him, brushing the bangs away from his face. you finally catch the stars in his eyes, nose scrunching in delight at the impromptu head massage.

"what's on your mind, baby?" you mumble into his hair, when he finds his way to your chest, arms immediately wrapping around you tightly in the softest way possible. "dunno," you feel his shoulders go up and down when shrugs, "there's always something up there now, you know?" he practically buries his face in your neck, placing a chaste kiss here and there. his fingers trace their way all the way from your hipbone to your shoulder, fidgeting with the thin silver necklace holding the delicate pendant he had given you on your birthday.

"wanna sleep and at the same, i don't wanna," he pouts, moving away from you ever so slightly to look up at you. "and why is that?" you ask curiously, smiling at him shivering at the touch of your cold fingers at the back of his neck. jungkook gazes at your eyes boring into him like warm rays of sunshine after a sudden spring shower. your moon-like eyes turns into pretty crescents when the silence gets comfortable, your bodies blending into one for warmth, despite the sultry heat outside. jungkook flings his leg over you, practically intertwined with you like vines on a lamp-post. its like his mind has come to a standstill, in a good way. the million thoughts running in his head has suddenly ceased, all because of your firm yet tender hands on him, one playing with his hair absentmindedly and the other tracing hearts on the upper part of his tattoo sleeve.

jungkook knows, despite not answering your question, you see right through his silence. he has wondered and pondered, over countless nights and self made whiskey cocktails, what exactly plagues his mind to avoid him catching up on some shut eye. he is no stranger to insomnia, often finding himself with new hobbies to while away the time till he finally gets sleepy. he boxed, karaoke-d, cooked his way through it all, that is until, he found you.

his own personal remedy, in the form of the most emotive, sometimes amorous love. nights spent with you is new everyday, no matter the place or time. you both could be on the couch, tummies full and hearts content at 9:45 p.m and jungkook would find himself asleep within seconds, something he could rarely achieve by himself. your lingering touches are something he thought he could only dream of, often waking up to you rolled over to the other side of the bed, grumbling to himself about your adventurous sleeping habits, wondering why you could never stay in one place, knowing he's subject to your teases about the same everyday. he gently pulls you to him anyway, spooning you until he finds the warmth he was searching helplessly for so long in his dream-like state.

"i can only sleep well when you're here with me," he confesses, a whisper into the dark space you both fondly call home. you catch his doe eyes on you, the night lights from outside never failing to enhance the galaxies you wake up to and sleep to everyday. jungkook clasps the back of your shirt in his hand, a subtle sign that he's succumbing to sleep's heavy hold.

"i think, just think, if you, just for a while, play with my hair or whatever, i may fall asleep, just saying."

your hand immediately resumes it's precious job, chuckling slightly at his quiet request of a head massage. his eyelashes flutter when his eyelids betray his mind, wanting one last look at you before he sees you again. before you know it, he's snoring away to dreamland in your arms, where you trust you'll meet him soon.

-

taglist: @soobhyun ; @september-husband ; @snoozeagustd ; @cherishoshi ; @fragmentofyourlife ; @jjkeverlast ; @nlsonsprings ; @starlight-1010 ; @swga-ficrecs ; @zharoszn

[aweina]

౨ৎ. PEACHES & CREAM ( 17 + ) ; raiden

tags gn reader. caught masturbating. hand job. oral sex. food play. hair pulling. friends to lovers. + 2k words.

based on this ask

the straw basket you held was snug in your grasp, filled with assortments of glossy apples, fuzzy peaches, and ripe lychees. it was all of raiden’s favorite fruits — something you learned from tomas’s daily commutes to your family’s fruit farm.

a bad fever. you distinctly traced back to kung lao’s words, a bitter look animating his face every time he spared details about raiden’s current sickening state. a layer of cold sweat covering his skin, unusually complaining about muscle aches, and his appetite only consisting of a glass of water and some good sleep.

that was bad. raiden has never gotten sick in all the years you’ve known him. he wore his skin like armor — resilient and adaptable to any weather. but with the current heat waves passing through the condensed village, it only made sense for the hardworking farm boy to be too stubborn to miss a day in the cabbage fields.

nevertheless, you admired raiden for his work ethic, but most importantly his compassion and kindness. he shined so bright when there was a smile on his face. hearing his gentle voice made your eyes flutter shut and soothed throughout the whole day. your crush on the farm boy couldn’t be anymore obvious, but it seems your subtle flirting and wandering eyes went unnoticed for years.

you gently pad through the zen garden, minimal with white rocks and gravel that held the warmth of summer — your scandals were neatly placed by the entrance, footsteps much softer and less damaging to the wooden platform. raiden’s home, blared with midnight silence all while the vicious heat waves irritably hum in your ears, making you flush under your thin garments.

drop off the basket and make your way home. that was the plan.

but your nerves heightened at the source of warm light that bled through the sliding doors — shadows of objects inked all over the paper panel. it was raiden's room. he was awake?

slowly, you got closer, softly step towards the light with a nervous grip on the straw-woven handle. you froze in shock when you heard a strangled sound coming from the other side of the panel. one step. the sound was suppressed, lodged deep in his throat. closer. a rhythmic wetness, in sync with your racing heart. in front of the door. with a hoarse voice, your name desperately fell off his lips as a gushing sound followed after.

with a shaking hand, you curiously slid open the thin panel.

it’s raiden, he just jerked off on his bed while he moaned your name.

before slipping his strained hand past the waistband of his soiled underwear, he restlessly opens his eyes and sees you standing there.

did he come so hard that he was hallucinating?

it took an awkward second to realize you were in fact, real. immediately, raiden frantically covered his lower half with the bunched up covers beside him — his usual kind eyes filled with the fusion of embarrassment and guilt. if it weren’t across his room right now, raiden would’ve used his straw hat to avoid your unreadable eyes — preferably forever.

“i – uh – i can explain,” raiden finally sputtered with desperation. he was stressed, darting his wavering gaze over to the fallen fruit basket to your terrifyingly neutral expression.

he looked away, gazing down at his fidgeting, haphazardly wiped hands.

“i’m truly… truly sorry about this. you must have been uncomfortable hearing all that – if you wish to never see me, i’ll make sure to —“

“are you still sick, raiden?”

your tone was even as you entered the humid room and slid the panel door shut. he flinched at the sound of your footstep, even more so with your lack of response to his apology.

“i – i’ve recovered well…” his words seemed to fall into silence as he looked up and watched you slowly bend down and take a peach from the floor, peeling off the fuzz with delicate fingers.

“has any of madam bo’s remedies worked well for you?”

one side of the peach was peeled off, a bead of sweet juice running down the plush fruit. it gleamed under the warm lantern light and made raiden swallow in anticipation.

“yes… they have made great improvements to combat my sickness, although… i’m still suffering from a headache.”

thinking about his lengthy absence, away from his responsibilities in fengjian, away from the sense of community, away from you, led him to a troubling spiral that left his head pounding with an intense ache. touching himself seemed like the only solution at the time, especially when his worries about you transformed into a lustful yearning.

you nodded in acknowledgement, the peach extract now ran down your arm — tacky on your dewy skin. to his surprise, you took a generous bite from the fruit, the delicate floral flavor coating your mouth. a gush of juice ran down from the corner of your lustrous lips, prompting you to take a finger and catch the leftover juice, only to apply it over your lips like a sweet balm.

raiden concentrates on your alluring movements with wide eyes, thankful for his previous panicked behavior to hide his shameful actions, only for it now to hide another painfully confined boner.

pressing your sticky lips together, you tread towards the small bed to take a seat on the edge, far from the farm boy’s reach. but with you much closer than before, raiden’s rapid breathing was apparent. he’s nervous, yet there’s a sense of urgency coursing through his stiff body. he could crawl towards you if you wanted him to, he could even set aside every ounce of his pride to beg for your touch. but then your question made his flush pink while the sudden surge of blood pumping through his veins made his cock twitch.

“mind if i try one of my remedies?”

your voice is so sweet and intoxicating, replacing all his senses with sexual desire.

raiden nodded frantically.

“o – of course, please do.” then you smiled for the first time of the night.

you crawled towards him with need, immediately latching your mouth onto his. raiden sighs in relief, sloppily kissing you back in desperation, the taste of peach on the tip of his tongue. eagerly, he lapped his pink muscle over your sweet lips. his favorite fruit coating your lips, tasting it with his own mouth — he must be dreaming. you whimpered at his gentle licking, eyes fluttering shut to memorize each caress of his tongue.

to close any space between the two of you, raiden pulls away the covers and guides your flushed body to straddle him. your weight sealed tight against raiden, his hardened cock brushed along your own clothes wetness — a choked groan escaping his lips all while you swallow them into a searing sugary kiss.

in need of some air, the both of you were panting heavily as you pulled away, a shared dazed expression on each other’s faces. you were the first to laugh, lips swollen and glossy from raiden’s eager tongue. he joined in the break of sexual tension with a small chuckle, the essence of peach was still sweet on his palate. you smile warmly as you gently brushed threads of long black hair away from his flushed face — cradling his warm cheeks into your hands.

“is it fine if i continue?” you whispered against his lips, leaving a plethora of sweet pecks in between each word.

“i could never deny you.” he confesses with no sputter or hesitation to his words — genuine and sweet.

by the elder gods, you wanted to make him feel so good.

you smiled wickedly as you leaned back and adjusted yourself, grinding agonizingly slow and hard against his hot erection. raiden hisses, rough hands suddenly firm around your waist for leverage. the dimly lit room felt more humid than before, filled with desperate pants and heady sweat. summer’s heat waves didn’t help the fact that the both of you were burning with desire.

you began to undress from your silky robe, the patterned fabric pooled by the side of the bed. raiden fondly stares at your bare body, starstruck by your natural beauty. before he could remove his own damp clothing, your nimble fingers began to undo the buttons of his shirt — exposing his heaving chest. for as long you’ve ever known raiden, a shirt clung onto his frame. never once showing an ounce of skin further than his collarbones. but this was something new. a well-toned stomach from his training with madam bo did him wonders. but with his even, golden tan shows that he does in fact train without a shirt — maybe after all this, you can accompany madam bo’s vigorous training.

but for now, your hands and lips ache to touch raiden everywhere. eagerly, you began to leave a trail of wet kisses and love marks all over his exposed body. raiden begins to groan with every scrap of your teeth, hands clinging desperately on his bedsheets. you smile at his impressive self-restraint, pulling away occasionally to fully memorize the details of his body. to the soft moles that scatter along his dewy marked skin, the deep contours that drew his frame, and finally the trail of coarse hair running his navel. he was perfect — so perfect.

raiden notices your intense gaze over his exposed form and shyly averts his eyes away, the grip on the cloth bed sheets giving him some stability.

you placed a sweet kiss over his navel, trailing down further as your cheeks began to graze his pubic hair, erection bumping against your chin.

“nervous?”

raiden shifts at your question and cutely nods.

“i am, but … i want to continue.” he has been waiting for this after all.

you nod at his words, hooking your fingers under the elastic waistband as you carefully drag down his pants. raiden lifts his weight a bit to give you easier access — a comedic look on his face when his cock accidentally slaps your cheek when his waistband reaches down to his thighs.

“oh. i - i’m sorry.” he faintly chuckled in embarrassment, shrugging off the shirt to let it join the rest of the clothing on the floor.

you shook your head when you disgraced his pants, sitting up briefly to reach towards the nightstand.

“your excitement shouldn’t bring you shame.”

the half-bitten peach felt soft and sticky in your grasp, still supple with sweet sap.

“it just needs to be taken care of.”

raiden’s eyes perk up at the softened peach and immediately shift towards his cock. are you going to –

a sudden coldness kisses his swollen, oozing tip, dripping down on his shaft. raiden immediately moans at the foreign feeling, the delicate scent of honeyed sweetness seeping on his skin. your hands squeeze the peach a little harder, getting every ounce of sticky sap onto his twitching cock. running the fruit dry, you discarded it on the nightstand and began to run your hands down his length at an agonizingly slow pace.

your name falls prettily out of his lips with every careful pump — hips moving desperately to meet your hand. with his cock much more sensitive from the new sensation of a sticky essence and his previous orgasm, he was sure that he wouldn’t last much longer. sensing raiden’s peak, you pulled away — his hips sputter for a moment until they fell back onto the bed. raiden tried to compose himself, his shallow breaths brushing against your flushed face, progressively becoming more stable.

“don’t cum just yet, i haven’t even gotten to taste you.” you jested, shifting on your knees so that you’re at head level with his cock.

“your skill makes it hard for me not to.” raiden breathes out, a small smile on his face.

you playfully roll your eyes, brushing your hand over his fingertips — urging to guide his touch. curiously, raiden follows your gentle hold onto his long fingers until you thread them through your scalp. as he was a fast learner in combat, so was he in the bedroom. with a firm grip, raiden tugs onto the back of your head. you smiled at his new sense of confidence, the hesitation in his touch much more rough with assertiveness.

without a word, he slowly guided your mouth down onto his cock — the warm air replaced with a scorching wetness.

“shit.” raiden curses, a rarity in his usual vocabulary. his dark brows pinched together, strands of hair falling from his bun. “you are amazing.”

the small praise made your mouth water, dissolving the juice clung onto his length. raiden allows a few seconds for you to relax your mouth and begins to bob your head along his cock — careful to not let you gag just yet. the sweet taste of ripe peach and bitter precum laid deliciously over your tongue, twirling over his tip with every tug at your scalp. whimpers of your name escaped raiden’s lip as the sleek sounds of your filled mouth were in sync with one another. with your mouth adjusting to the forgiving pace, you began to suckle and moan around his cock — sending extra sensations for raiden to feel. he bites back a groan, overwhelmed by the feeling of your mouth and the perfect view of his hand gripping your messy hair and glossy eyes eagerly looking up at him.

even like this, he honestly found you to be breathtaking.

“you are so beautiful. oh. it just feels so good –“

raiden tilts his head up, his cock beginning to twitch in your mouth. the heady taste of cum and peach puts you into a mind numbing trance, intently suckling and licking down his length. suddenly, you gagged at the sudden graze of his tip, noticing how much further it is down your throat. your senses suddenly flood back into you, his low whines and groans much more clear.

“i – i’m close — so close.” raiden warns, his restraint begins to slowly chipping away as his grip begins to leave your scalp tender, his pace backing more grueling with each hard thrust of his hips, making you choke and tear up.

you grip tightly into his thighs, steadily breathing through your nose as his cock continuously plunges down throat. the coil in your gut burns with greed, ready to take his load. the fast building tension came so quick, you knew instantly that he was there. and with one final thrust, raiden calls out your name, hot cum spurting down your bruised throat — coating your mouth with a salty, peachy taste. his body jerks in overwhelming ecstasy, sweat collecting around his brow bone dripping down his neck. his cock softens in your mouth, making your breathing less restricting. the death grip on your scalp exchanged to a comforting massage, gently guiding your mouth to detach from his cock with a lewd pop.

your eyes met, his much more apologetic and filled with worry. as yours was filled with a satisfied haze.

“are you feeling okay?” raiden whispered in concern, making the effort to pat down the messy strands of your hair. “i was too rough on you, i’m sorry about that.”

you shook your head, laying your head over his stomach. raiden sighs in relief, although his brows still knit with concern.

“i’m fine. what about you? is your headache finally gone?”

raiden tilts his head in confusion, until he realizes what you mean. he lightly chuckles, continuing to caress your head adoringly.

“it is actually,” he genuinely admits, eyeing the crushed peach on the nightstand in amusement. “your remedy does work after all.”

you grinned at his teasing, slowly lifting up your whole body to grab one of the few sizable fragments of the fruit — pressing its sweet yellow flesh against your cum coated lips.

“if you ever feel sick again, i can try out other remedies.” you suggested, raising the sweet remnant towards his mouth.

his eyes light up before he gently grabs your wrist as he takes a bite, holding your unwavering gaze. he catches you off guard with a sudden short tug — locking into a tender kiss. raiden gently drags his tongue along the molars of your mouth and over your quivering lips. the taste of himself and the delicate floral sweetness surprisingly compliment each other.

he slowly pulled away, a trail of saliva between your lips gleamed under the warm light.

“then i hope my fever could last a little longer.”

© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

[galebrainrot2024]

Professor!GalexYouAFAB Reader

Summary: You wake in the middle of the night, unable to sleep so Gale finds an appropriate activity to relieve both of you. NSFW 18+ Content: Explicit, Oral Sex, PIV Sex, Edging, Minors DNI

You toss and turn, sleep evading you. Despite your best efforts your brain refuses to quiet and you hear Gale stir and grumble beside you. “It’s the middle of the night..” he murmurs before wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer into his embrace. His head rests in the crook of your neck and you brush the hair from his face, admiring the strong jaw, full lashes, plump lips. You feel heat spread through you, your touch crackling with electricity as you admire him. 

“Why are you awake..” Gale turns to you, blinking sleep from his eyes and plants a soft kiss on your neck. It earns him a shiver and the sleep shakes further from him, his pupils blackening as he becomes more alert. His lips part and you feel him shift against you, a familiar firmness growing in his trousers. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you…” you say softly, cooing him back to slumber.

“I’m quite awake now..” he says, his hot breath against your neck as he flicks his tongue against it. “You look so beautiful… I rarely get to admire you at this time of night.” His voice was quiet and husky and his words were true. It wasn’t often you found yourself wide awake at these odd hours, where the moon hands almost eerily on the black dusted horizon. Gale brushes his fingers against your hair and he pulls himself up and you back to him, your bodies nestled together in a familiar “s” shape. 

You feel him shift slightly and let out a husky laugh. “Awake in more ways than one, apparently,” you tease and shift your hips back against him, the hard evidence of his erection pressed into your backside and you bite down on your lip as you feel your body stir with the familiar creeping of lust. 

You bring your hand behind you, your fingers grazing the hardened outline over his underwear eliciting a low groan from Gale. “Temptress..” he teases in your ear, biting down on your earlobe before brushing his lips against your neck. You feel his warm tongue against the delicate skin so you shudder and let out a soft moan and feel his lips curl into a smile. You and Gale had been together for some time now and even still, he pampered you, showered you with love and affection and an almost animalistic, desperate need to have every inch of you. Neither of you could be sated. 

“I’ll have to remedy that… unless you’d rather go back to sleep…” he said as his fingers outlined your sex, the cloth now dripping with your arousal. You hear him moan as he feels the wetness and drags his fingers slowly, firmly over your center and you whimper. It makes you squirm and buck your hips into his touch. He chuckles darkly. “Patience… no need to rush… there’s no where for us to be at this hour….” 

You lean your head back into him, his face burried in your neck as his fingers trace slow circles around your clothed groin and his fingers hook into the fabric teasingly. “Please..” You hear yourself beg, returned with another black chuckle. Gale’s hot breath on your neck forces goosebumps to rise across you, undulating and revealing your need. Gale uses one hand to turn your face back to him so he can capture your lips hungrily, like a man starved. 

You moan as his lips meet yours, the taste of mint and sleep and desire fresh on his tongue as it massages yours, his fingers brushing against the hollow of your neck while the other hand so painfully and delicately massaged your clothed wetness. You squirm and he kisses you harder, pulling you against him and you feel his firm, throbbing erection through his thin cloth. 

Gale rolls his tongue over yours once more, biting down on your lower lip and pulling slightly before delicately turning you onto your stomach, your face turned against the sheets. Your eyes roll back as your body braces for what’s to come. You hear Gale grunt and feel his body looming over yours, you feel his fingers against the cloth of your underwear and tease you relentlessly. Although you try to squirm, he is pinning you down and you feel him take a fistful of your hair and comb his fingers through it. His fingers race down your back, to your butt and he gives your firm roundness a pleased and hungry squeeze that makes you yelp. This elicits another moan from him and it makes your mouth water. “I’m being so patient…” you whimper, your hands above your head and grip the sheets as your body braces with anticipation, “Please,” you mewl, begging for him.

“All in good time…” Gale says huskily and once more his fingers trace between the folds of your underwear, not quite touching where you want - where you need him to. You feel feral, unhinged as the lust and arousal pulses through your body, your soaking wetness unbearable. The lightest touch will likely send his name falling from your lips like a prayer of ecstasy. You feel Gale’s lips against your shoulders and he moves down your back as if you’re a sumptuous meal. His lips graze over your raised butt and he gives a hungry bite, marking the skin but just. You whine, pressing your legs together and feel his strong hands pry your legs apart. “I’m not sure I can relieve you if you continue to bar me from entry…” he says this playfully, but the desire is dripping in his tone. You oblige, allowing him to peel your legs apart and push them further. You hear his breath hitch and you feel your hips raise and rock, desperate for him. Desperate for Gale’s touch. 

He groans and with his teeth and hands, drags your underwear off of your sex and lowers it, removing it entirely. You shiver as his hands brush up your thighs firmly, squeezing your skin as you feel his hot breath lingering at the source of your arousal. You bite down hard on your lip yet the whimper escapes unintentionally. You feel your clit pulse with desire and feel the flood between your legs when his lips barely brush your inner thigh. You moan, a high pitched mew escaping you when you feel Gale’s warm mouth against your skin, dangerously close to the source of your discomfort and need. You feel him grin and flick his tongue across your inner thigh. “I love it when you beg…” his voice is thick with need and at last you feel his fingers grip into your hips to pull you back towards him so he can feast. 

All at once you feel his hot tongue massaging each fold, expertly rolling around your clit and flicking into your throbbing cunt. You cry out and press your face into the bed, your hips bucking backward as he thrusts his face between your thighs as if famished. You feel his groans, the vibrations only heightening your pleasure as you feel him insert his capable fingers into you while his tongue flicked across your outer folds. You cry out and he thrusts his fingers harder into you, suckling at your taste, loving the nosies he draws out of you. You push your hips back into his hungry and greedy mouth and feel his warm, the wetness of his mouth clashing against your throbbing cunt and you squirm relentlessly, your mind swimming and dizzying. “Come for me.” You hear him command and it’s a tone that makes you feral, your carnal and guttural arousal completely unleashing as you grip the sheets and cry out his name, your entire body quaking as your climax roils through you and you press yourself back into his mouth. You feel him lick and suck your climax, his tongue thrusting into your cunt in place of his fingers so he can taste his work. You hear him moan as he tastes your finish, and his breath is jagged, matching yours. 

Although sated, you want more. You feel your hips roll back, wanting and you whisper in a raspy voice, “Come here…” Gale doesn’t need further encouragement. You hear him violently rip his underwear from his body and at once he is over you again and he moves you to your side, holding one of your legs up a bit and his eyes bear into yours lustfully. Your lips part and your mouth waters, your gaze flicking to his solid, throbbing erection that sits right at the folds of your throbbing sex. You bite down on your lip and look at Gale beneath your thick lashes and he leans forward to kiss you, desperate to taste you. You taste yourself on his lips and it makes you wild. You feel him press his erection against your folds and you purr, turning your body and he holds you in place. It makes you moan, preparing for him. 

Gale deliberately enters you. First with the tip of his ravenous erection and then you see his eyes roll back and resolve falter. He thrusts entirely into you, filling you and touching every sensitive nerve and you cry out. His girth makes you tremble, clench, every fiber of your being insatiable and greedy for more. He groans with delight, gripping you firmly as your bodies find their familiar, sensual rhythm. You roll your hips slowly against him and he groans, flipping you then so that you are beneath him, his knee slightly bent for further purchase. He takes your wrists to hold them over your head as Gale kisses you, the kiss sloppy and wet with need as he thrusts his hips to meet yours, the tip of him pounding against your internal pleasure centers.

“Gale…” you moan, pressing your hips up to his, wanting more, needing more. Gale meets yours eagerly and you feel yourself clench around his shaft and he moans loudly into your mouth. You whisper against his lips, “Now it’s my turn to hear you…” it was too much for him.

"Oh Gods...." His grip on your wrists tighten and you yelp as he roughly and still with such tenderness forces himself as far into you as he can manage until you are both crying out and shuddering with unadulterated bliss. You feel his cock twitch and erupt, the sticky warm fluid filling you as you climax in unison. A thin sheen of sweat covers both of you, your bodies ravaged and exhausted. The soft light of the stars and moon filter through the window, making Gale's skin appear almost effervescent.

Gale collapses onto you, his lips against your neck, your ear, your cheek as he showers you with his love. “Gods, you’re incredible… I will never understand it…" You giggle a bit as he pulls you to him once more, his face nestled into your neck. "Now come here... " you relax into him, your eyes filling with heaviness, the exhaustion and pleasure lulling you back to sleep.

[oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse]

True Colors

Ominis Gaunt x f!Reader

Summary - Anon request for "Dom Ominis (...or Dominis? 😏) X Reader" Pls let me know thoughts on how I wrote this and whether or not it seems like ~Dominis~

Word Count - 2,926

Warnings - 18+ smut, dom/sub dynamic

A/N - Pls let me know thoughts on how I wrote this and whether or not it seems like ~Dominis~

The year was now 1894 and Ominis had seemingly found some peace for himself, made his own slice of heaven in Feldcroft. Although some days he felt conflict for his relationship with what was left of the Sallows, they had calmed down in their older years.

Anne was still cursed, but all the time it seemed new remedies were being discovered to manage symptoms for survivors of the Ranrok and Rookwood catastrophe. She seemed better than she had in years. Sebastian matured and the silence he got from Ominis and Anne for so long propelled him away from the dark arts and into a lifetime of guilt.

Although Ominis gathered with Anne more than Sebastian these days, he did a lot of keeping to himself. He felt like he lived a lifetime in his 7 years at Hogwarts. Besides, living modestly in the little Hamlet he always wished to call home lended itself to less exhaustion of the Gaunt "fortune" that remained.

The only thing he missed was returning to him today; you. You had really crossed paths with Ominis around year 3. By the time he opened up around you and got comfortable, that odd student appeared in year 5 and drove him into your arms further. They pushed Sebastian in all the wrong directions and you tried desperately to help Ominis pick up the pieces from it.

You had spent some time visiting with muggles down your family tree, that had been your way to escape the chaos. You had encouraged Ominis to break away from his family to live the life of solitude he wanted. The life were he didn't have to be afraid or take anybody else's orders anymore.

Ominis' home wasn't much, but none of it normally mattered to him since he couldn't see it. If he could functionally use it that was good enough. And truth be told he spent to many years navigating grand halls of those in the Sacred 28 when he was forced, not even mentioned 7 years in Hogwarts.

As he anticipated your arrival, though, he got a little bit nervous. You were to be staying with him for a little while, would you find the décor to your liking? Did Sebastian or Anne make an attempt to mess with him and make his kitchen collection terribly mismatched?

As he fiddled with the ruffles of his shirt, cane in the other hand he heard 3 light raps at the door which he knew right away were you. He tried to mask the new heat he was feeling all over before opening the door to let you in.

"Ominis!" You had wanted to take a good long look at him, but couldn't keep yourself from throwing your arms around him first. Through the thin fabric of your blouse and pinafore you could feel how much he'd continued to fill out since you'd seem him last. He felt strong, but lean as he wrapped his free arm around your lower back to pull you close.

You could feel him nuzzle gently against your hair, murmuring your name at barely a whisper. As you stepped back you still maintained proximity, telling yourself it was solely for his sake.

"You look...well," was all you could muster as you raked your eyes over him. He wore perfectly pleated trousers that seemed like they were made for him as the hugged his calves and thighs. They were held up by some leather suspenders that must have been his favorite. His pale ruffled shirt giving you almost a teasing glimpse at the skin beneath it with how light it was.

His height, his figure, both were breathtaking, but when you looked up at his face it caused so many feelings. It was sense of familiarity looking into his milky eyes that still made you self-conscious. The softer lines that used to hollow out his face were not replace with a sharper jaw and fullness. You felt your ears go red at the thought of being alone with this man. He wasn't a boy anymore.

While you used your eyes to take him in you allowed him to use his touch as he always would with you. His fingers ran up the curve of your hip, making him smile as he realized you dressed comfortable to be around him. As he ghosted up your side he pulled back just enough to avoid being indecent and touching your breast which made you contain of whimper of sadness that made you feel conflicted.

He finished his exploration at the top of your shoulder and cupping your face with his palm where you leaned into him.

"I think you look beautiful too." It always made you laugh when he said that to you, but his expression remained soft and you knew he meant it. In all the other ways he was able to see you. He adored you.

"Well, can I come in before a stray Niffler finds it way through here?" His smile lit up the room as you walked through the threshold, closing the door behind you.

"That was one time you know. And I am used to keeping things locked up here now."

His eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to look at you seriously, but you just laughed at him and took a seat in his sitting room.

"I love what you've made here Ominis, it's such a calming place to be." You started unlacing your boots as he padded over to you, leaning against one of the supports of the home.

"It is nice to start making a different meaning for people around here when they hear my name. I feel respected here, but not feared. It doesn't erase anything, but in a way it is like a do-over for me."

Your heart felt happy for him as he talked about his life here. He even spoke of business he had with muggles and muggle-borns and you couldn't keep yourself from beaming at him. It was wonderful to see so much light shining from him after everything he'd endured in his life, after everything that had been done to him and taught to him.

"I suppose you'll be trying to settle down for some little Gaunts soon?" You nearly had instant regret saying those words, feeling unsure why it was important to you in the first place.

It surprised him for you to bring this topic up. So much so that his mouth fell open and he raised his eyebrows. He took a seat next to you before responding.

"I hadn't exactly given it much thought. It's not as if I am forced to marry a cousin to make anymore cursed little offspring." His tone was slightly bitter as he leaned back beside you, crossing his legs and stretching an arm out behind you.

You were unsure if you had upset him or not until he continued, "I hadn't really considered any of the maidens here. I haven't found anyone as remarkable as you."

He leaned forward placing the pads of his fingers along your neck first before wrapping his fingers in place. You felt like you couldn't breathe with what he must be implying, surely you're misunderstanding?

His touch felt different, it felt possessive as he swiped his thumb across your cheek, over your bottom lip and dragging it downward.

"I've thought only about you since we've met," he chuckled, "you have no idea what you did to a teenage boy, huh?"

Your mouth had fallen slack at this point as his hand slipped around your throat, without pressure, but the controlling nature of it was clear.

He shifted closer to you on the couch before he continued, "I'm not a boy anymore," your eyes close and you can feel his breathe fan out onto your face when he moves towards your ear. His words only an erotic whisper at this point, "As it pertains to little Gaunts, there's only one person for that. This is the one exception in my life where I believe I have to take what I want." He tightened his grip on your throat enough for you to understand how serious he was. He used his right hand to creep over your knee, beneath your flimsy skirt, fingers dancing on your thigh as he holds his breath for your reaction.

You can't quite contain a mewl at all the sensation. The baritone of his aroused voice, his lean fingers on your sensitive skin and curled around your neck holding your life beneath them.

He places a soft kiss to your temple, feeling your pulse, your heat, your physical reactions all pointing to this going the direction he wanted it to.

"I will ask your permission this once, to be sure you're prepared for what is to come. If you say yes, I won't be able to hold back, my love."

Truthfully, there was a lot going through your head at once, but there wasn't any way for you to deny the pooling heat between your thighs; the way you leaned into his touch like a fitting puzzle piece.

The words trembled from your mouth in desperation, "Ominis, please take me. Make me yours."

He let out a groan before roughly pulling you over to his lap. You admired his flushed pale cheeks and hair made mussed from sweat as you took in how much he must have been holding back to start out so politely with you.

He pulled your face to his with both hands and kissed you for the first time, it was a mess of teeth and tongue as you both realized just how much you wanted this. You could feel him hot and hard beneath you, your flimsy undergarments soaking as you press yourself against him.

Your hands fumbled along his sides, searching to unhook his suspenders before he used one large hand to grab both of your wrists.

"No," his voice came out breathless between kisses, "I decide when things come off." He used every once of self control to distance himself while holding you still. "Stay on top of me and remove everything."

It was impossible to deny his order. As commanding his tone was, as badly as you knew he wanted this, you couldn't keep yourself from feeling embarrassment. Even as you knew his glossed over eyes couldn't really see you, you had never felt more exposed.

You used one hand to start unfastening the 2 buttons of your jumper and the other to place his atop the one of yours doing all the work. You knew he couldn't see what was going on, but you wanted him to be apart of all of it. To feel your pulse racing and your skin heating up from exposure.

Despite him commandeering this whole endeavor, he couldn't keep himself under control as the buttons of your blouse came undone and he made contact with the soft skin beneath. You hadn't had on any upper under garments upon showing up at his door and he couldn't handle it.

He shoves it down your shoulders, grabbing your jumper to go down with it leaving you in just your bloomers. His actions were rough now as you arched your back to his every touch, him committed to memorizing the dips and curves of your body.

"You came to see me with only knickers beneath all this?" His tone was hoarse and you reveled in the fact that it was you making him feel and act this way.

"It's almost like you were begging me to take you before you even got to my door step, " his fingers dipped below the waistband tracing your stomach, "you're lucky you even made it to me in one piece," he falls past the soft tuft of hair on your mound, causing you to jolt and whine in want as he dips past your lips, "or maybe you're not. I do quite plan on torturing you in my own way."

Your hands gripped his thighs band you as you struggled to sit still, his fingers exploring and his thumb doing a number on your swollen clit. It felt euphoric to give yourself over to him, letting him be in control.

He used his hand in your bloomers effortlessly making you squirm and call out his name, begging him for more as he chuckled at you. His free hand pinching and squeezing and bit of exposed flesh he could; your thighs, your breasts, your belly. He needed to memorize all of it and mark it up for anyone who could see. Anyone who might dare try and take what was rightfully his all these years.

He took his hand away suddenly which made you open your eyes that had been squeezed shut in ecstasy. He unbuttoned his own shirt like it was nothing, eyes remaining on you as if he knew how much more heated if got you.

You just watched him in awe as he exposed his white and speckled chest with small blonde bits of hair you had never seen before. He popped his suspenders off a bit more careful as to not injure either one of you with them.

Then came the trousers. You attempted to sit still, not wanting to be scolded for trying to do anything without his command, but you couldn't keep yourself from leaning forward, mouth open and practically watering at the sinful display.

As he unfastened himself, the first thing you saw was neat display of hair and just a preview of the veins at the base of his cock. He pulled your lips to his, grabbing you by the back of your neck as you whimpered his name.

Your eyes scanned his face as he broke his kiss with you, strings of saliva between the pair of you.

"Darling, I know how deprived you are. I know you waited just for me, you filthy girl. However, I on the other hand am feeling depraved, so get on your knees for me, deslure."

Your eyebrows shot up as he spoke the last of his sentence to you in parseltongue. You had heard it before, you had imagined him saying indecent things without your knowledge, but you'd never heard it direct at you undoubtedly being something of filth.

He applied pressure on your shoulders to encourage you off of him and into the floor. Once he was sure you were listening, he lifted himself up enough to slide his trousers down past his knees and you felt like you were going to go feral.

You slid your palms up his thighs watching him toss and turn his head in some agony he decided to allow you to give him. His cock was thick and it made you nervous, having never done anything like this. Nonetheless, you felt hungry to please him and let that guide you.

You gingerly placed kisses along his thighs, his balls, and everywhere except where he clearly needed them most; where he was dripping in anticipation for them.

"More, please. I won't ask next time." He nearly betrayed the big bad persona he was putting on, but you were compelled to follow his every order. You used your tongue to start lapping up his pre-cum and spreading the mixture with your spit all over him.

He couldn't taken it as he moaned from up above you and reached a large hand down to press you up against him. He rutted himself helplessly against your lips and cheeks, gripping you the entire time until he pulled you back enough to allow you to take him into your mouth.

He gave you as much time as he could to go slow, but soon he was holding your head in place and barely giving you the time to breathe while he fucked your mouth, pure filth spilling from his lips.

"Y/N, you're so fucking perfect," he thrusted against your gags and protests, "you-I I didn't think you'd be so good to me all by yourself," you were swallowing your spit and him, yearning to please him with tear-stained eyes, "I-I thought you were so innocent. But you're taking my cock somewhere it can't even give you a baby," you could feel him start to tense up and pick up his rhythm as you gasped for air, "you're letting me fuck your smart, wet , little mouth like such a whore. I bet you wanted it all this time."

He yelled out your name at this point, holding your face down while you spluttered against him, feeling hot cum slide down your throat.

His grip softened and turned to petting you as you pulled away, leaning against his legs and coughing. He took a minute to catch his breath before leaning forward to guide you back up onto the sofa.

You collapsed against his damp chest, letting your eyes close to relax.

"Ominis?" you spoke softly, "I would like to do more things with you some time," you blushed at your own words and the confession you were about to make, "other things too. Maybe going out to feed the nifflers and...maybe actually having that baby. Er, making it too."

Even though you knew he couldn't see you, you still burrowed further against him as he tightened his grip on you comfortably.

"Absolutely, Y/N. You could, maybe help this place have a woman's touch when we do have guests over. Uh, a-uh, a seeing woman."

You smiled against him in spite of both of your terrible confessions about wanting something more together.

[lailawinchesterr]

remedy (v) — sam winchester

> prev, masterlist

summary: you deal with the aftermath of dean’s visit and your outing with sam, it goes half-way according to plan — tags: underage!reader, 22 year old!sam, med student!fem!reader, cursing, said shorter but it’s a ‘jared’ shorter, he’s 6’4.

“Are you…” Sam sighs and you can hear how tired he is, “are you okay?” Today’s been a lot for him. Dean made another appearance after Sam thought it was over, both of you came back to the apartment for a reason— so maybe you’re thinking of yourself a little, but still it’s been stressful for him.

And you just slammed the door in his face. “Changing.”

“The clothes are out here.” You curse at yourself and purse your lips. You open the door slightly, just enough to see Sam’s face, his long tousled hair, and him holding out the pile of clothes to you. You snatch them from his hand and shut the door again. 

They fit well, Sam’s only a couple of inches taller than you so it’s almost okay, the shirt’s a little too long but the pants are sweats so with a tight knot, they hang low enough that it looks cute.

You exhale shakily before opening the door and then letting out a breath of relief that he’s not here. You fold your clothes and put them on Gen’s desk, right next to her books, and take out your phone.

It might seem pathetic, a little childish, but come on, you’re spending the night with Sam, you have the right to be those things to Jess.

You: I’m staying over.

Jess: Over my dead fucking body.

You: Just sleeping. In gen’s room.

Jess: Girl that’s even sadder.

You: Not a word, whore.

Jess: Is so, slut (for Sam).

You: Not funny, Jess. Don’t tell Gen anything, okay? Besides i'm here for Sam, he wants me to stay.

It sounds even more feeble actually typed out.

Jess: Why doesn’t he go talk to lily?

You: He said they’re not together.

Jess: BITCH YOU TALKED TO HIM ABOUT IT?

You: How is that a bad thing?

Jess: IT'S PATHETIC AND DESPERATE!!! I’m going to kill you when I see you.

You shut your phone off and hide it underneath your pillow. Everything will work itself out, with Sam and Dean and Jess and freakin finals that you have next week. You finished anatomy which means there’s physiology and biochemistry 104 left for next week. Which you’ve hardly opened having just finished your histology exam. 

Someone— Sam, obviously— knocks on the door and you tuck your hair behind your ear before saying he could come in. Sam’s brushed his own down, it looks much calmer than it’s usual ‘let it be’ hairstyle he has going for him. He shuts the door behind him— is the air getting thin?

“Look, you say the word and I’ll drive you back home—”

“What? Where’s this coming from?” He raises one eyebrow and takes a step towards you, flustering you so fast, just the way he takes his steps, stares into your eyes, and you stare at your fingers in your lap.

“You slamming the door in my face, you sleeping in Gen’s room, and now you’re not even looking at me, so if you don’t want this—”

“What is this, though?” Your voice drops, slow and cautious. “What is it? Are we…”

He walks over to where you’re sitting, sits down in front of you and reaches one hand out to brush his thumb over your knuckles, “We can’t figure that out if you keep acting like this. And I really like you when you’re not being like— when you aren’t acting scared and shy. You’re the most thoughtful friend, kind.”

“Right, but as a… not-friend, I guess; it wouldn’t work out.”

He shakes his head quickly, “That’s not what I’m saying. It would work if you stopped being so afraid! Of me, or what’s going to happen! Whatever you’re scared of, just don’t be.”

“That’s stupid, Sam,” you pull your fingers away from him so his hand is laying on your lap, barely on your thigh and you keep staring at it, not looking him in the eye quite yet, “being cautious is what helps me stay happy and whole, you know? The second I let my guard down—”

“What? What do you think is gonna happen?”

“I haven’t even known you that long! It’s been three weeks.” He scoffs like that’s the lamest excuse he’s heard in his life and his hand is no longer on your thigh, only God knows where it is because you’re definitely not looking up to see.

“If you don’t look at me while we’re talking then this’ll never fucking work.” The anger in his voice burned like a wildfire inside of you, consuming. it's terrifying how well it works as you involuntarily look up at him. 

It’s not that you’re scared of Sam or that you can’t maintain eye contact, you’ve done so various times, but this feels different, like he’ll dive into your soul if you look into his eyes for too long.

“Sam, I’m not being dramatic about this,” you reinforce, harsher this time, because you know what you feel, and he won’t make it seem small and insignificant. It isn’t. This is exactly what’s helped you avoid heartbreak for the past seventeen years.

“I’m not sayin’ you are. But being scared, nervous, whatever, about this is what makes it worth it. I’m not rushing you, if you wanna take it slower, we will, but I need to know how you feel, otherwise someone’s gonna get hurt and it’ll be because you didn’t tell me what you want right now. You gotta talk to me.”

His eyes up-close are easier to read. He’s desperate for answers, you’d assume that easily with the kind of day he had; filled with questions. You let his name slip with a groan as your head falls back. This is… a lot. But when you look back at him, he isn't deterred, his eyes are still searching yours for an answer.

“I have so many questions though—”

“Ask.”

“Lily.” It comes out before you can stop it but you don’t have time for regret.

“Just a friend. You have to trust me if this is going to work.” Calling your non-relationship this is apperantly the default name.

“I do trust you,” Risky considering you just met him, “but you never told me about the hangouts. You guys go out alone.”

“She’s top of the class, it helps to study with her.” Apparently that’s something you’ll have to get used to, him hanging around other girls. No questions come to mind after that, except maybe the most obvious one. That’s bothering both of you. 

“Sam—”

“I’ll wait. If you want me to wait for six months, I will.” You tilt your head in confusion, “I like you, a lot, and if my age bothers you then I’ll wait as long as you want. But you will not use it as a reason against us.”

It's probably all you’ve ever wanted your whole life. Being the youngest in your classes, in college, in basically everything you’ve ever participated in has always made you think you’re less than you are. You can’t be successful because you’re too young, it’s okay to fail because you still have years to catch up— it’s insulting and honestly just fucking annoying. 

But it’s still not that easy, even if you want to be with Sam people will talk. You don’t look seventeen, but you are, and you’re friends know so, since you don’t have a license. You’ll get the looks and talks you don’t want to even come near but it’s inevitable. 

It’s worth it. Sam is worth it.

“Yeah let’s, can we take it slow? Just for a while, so I can understand this before we decide to get into it.” You don’t date for the hell of it but while you’re not naive enough to think you’ll marry Sam, your heart needs time to catch up.

He nods with a small smile, finally. “How slow is slow?”

Great question. How slow is kissing? Probably slow enough, you think as you lean in, your lips inches apart. His eyes do that thing again, eyes, lips, eyes. And you’re praying he’ll finally do something— Sam crashes his lips onto yours. When you didn’t immediately pull away, he tilted his head and deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue out to slide over your bottom lip. 

When he doesn’t get the reaction he wants, he bites your bottom lip but it’s so faint you wouldn’t feel it if your whole body wasn’t invested, which it is, so you comply, pushing your lips apart to give him access. His hands run up your thighs and to your waist, pulling you closer slowly so you don’t crash your teeth together. It’s slow but deep and feverish and needy. 

When he pulls away for a second and shuts his lips closed you shudder, involuntarily chasing his lips before you feel his hands slip under your thighs and he lifts you onto his lap, then moves so he’s in your place with his back against the headboard. 

He doesn’t go back to immediately kissing you, instead pulls back a little further, one hand on your waist, the other coming up to your hair, his eyes taking you in so completely you might as well be naked. “What?”

“You’re gorgeous,” You pout. That’s… sweet. Too sweet. You guys should go back to kissing. So you nod once and try to lean back in, he lets you, indulges you in a kiss. Two, three seconds then he pushes back using the hand that’s holding your head, treading his fingers through your hair. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, ‘s cute, thanks.” He shakes his head, obviously not buying it. “Just… i don’t know, it’s weird hearing it from a guy.”

“That you’re attractive? Are you joking?” You shrug and try to look around for something to do. Is it normal to have full on conversations when you’re trying to make out? “Beautiful.” He says it with a breath, like it’s consuming him “Every part of you.” He whispers that part while his eyes run over your figure up and down. 

“Okay… so kiss me?” He laughs a little and with your hands on his chest you can feel the vibrations distinctly, making you forget your question which allows a gasp to escape when his lips pull yours in. 

You can’t believe you’re kissing Sam. You can’t believe that you’re taller than him in this position. He’s the one pulling you down to get to him. Incredible. Everything about him and this.

He tests the water again before slipping his tongue into your mouth and it causes a more visceral reaction; you pull away suddenly and his eyes instantly snap open. “You okay? Was that too fast?”

No just… weird? Are you supposed to do that for him? Yeah, no way, man. You’re not a prude (kinda), you’ve watched things here and there, a woman has her needs, but this? Kissing? Not the internet’s biggest interest. 

“Sam, you know this is like— you’re my first. Ever.” Oh. Okay. So maybe he didn’t know. His face is suggesting he, infact, did not know. “Like I mean, not, maybe—” You’re making it worse.

“You’re making it worse.” He sighs and his head falls back to slam quietly against the headboard. He looks tired, but takes back his words the second he says them regardless. “‘M sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Just— you should’ve told me. I didn’t know.”

“Well, I thought I’d make it obvious the second the kiss starts, honestly.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed,” he mutters through half-lidded eyes, fingers still playing with your hair. He’s better at not freaking out about your pop-up facts, now. “Was it okay? For your first time?”

You nod quickly, “Yes, the best.” You lean down and press another kiss. It’s unhurried, and just the surface, but still so meaningful it fills your heart beyond belief. “You’re the best— but since we’re on the topic, you know that I’m a virgin too, right?” You add the last part just in case. Just in case.

“Yeah, baby, I know,” He’s probably extra tired if he’s calling you that. He should really stop if he wants you to keep it that way. “Wasn’t gonna do anything tonight, anyways. We’re waiting, right?”

“Do you want to do something tonight?” You’re not sure why you’re asking. You’re not ready. Mentally or physically. He shakes his head anyways and you let out a sigh of relief and practically slump your shoulders. He chuckles and tries to sit up.

“That bad? Then why’d you ask?”

“No not bad, ‘s just that I’m not ready yet.”

“We’re never going to do anything you’re not ready for, you know that. You shouldn’t do anything just ‘cause I want to.” You know that, it’s basically the only staple in your life considering how much of a people-pleaser you used to be back in high school. 

“Okay, yeah.” Your smile is wide despite all the highs and damn lows of today, you ended it on Sam’s lap, making out (on Gen’s bed), how the hell are you supposed to be sad about that? Not happening. But you are concerned for Sam’s health so you slide out of his grip and sit next to him instead. He faces you.

“You’re exhausted, Sam. Go to sleep.” It’s not a demand, but he seems to take it as one because he yawns and slips further into the bed. “In here?” You let out and immediately glue your lips shut.

“You want me to leave?” He’s asking but he’s also getting comfortable at the same time. So you shake your head and make a move to get out of the bed when he starts slightly, a wave of guilt washing over him, so clear on his face. “I’ll go, just give me a minute—”

“I’m just getting the lights, Sam.” You feel him sag with relief and you mirror it out of joy. You get the lights and take a moment to collect yourself then get in the bed next to him, slowly tucking yourself under the covers. You try not to touch him and he doesn’t exactly have time to comment because he’s out in a minute. 

Jess: Like a cheap whore. 

You wish you could text Jess back to shut up and that that isn’t what happened but that’s a lie— it’s exactly how it happened. You left the next morning before Sam woke up, leaving his clothes in a neatly folded pile in his living room. She must’ve checked your location. 

You: How’d you know he’s asleep? 

You text back as you pass another coffee shop on your way home. It’s only a thirty minute walk, good enough for you to think and collect your thoughts before Sam inevitably calls.

Jess: I didn’t but you confirmed it. On your way?

You: Yes.

Jess: Coffee bitch!! Gen wants matcha. 

You shut your phone off after putting your AirPods in. You’ll bring them their coffee and tell them all the details but now you need to think. Collect. Recollect. Organize.

And you will, you are. Because you’re not hiding from Sam, you’re not running away or ignoring him, you need space, like you often do, so you don’t get emotional. That, and waking up next to someone is too intimate for you so maybe a little bit of running.

But you didn’t do it just for him, you wanted to see if you’d be able to do it, be comfortable enough to sleep next to him. And despite the answer being ‘maybe?’, you would do it again. 

“Glucose is converted to glycogen, glycogenesis—” Another yawn. The sixth time in maybe just this hour and you pull your phone out to find something a little more entertaining for just a few minutes. Your brain is going to seriously retaliate if you don’t immediately get a break.

Sam: Hey, how are you?

Sam: Classes?

Your breath hitches as you stare at your Lock Screen, the little messages under his name sending a current through your entire body.  Despite the constant texting these past weeks it feels different now. You kissed. Yesterday. And you left without saying anything.

His text was sent five minutes ago so you suck it up and text right away.

You: Yes, I’m in class right now. Sorry I didn’t wanna wake you up.

Sam: It’s okay, but you should’ve, wanted to say bye.

Oh, that’s sweet. 

Sam: Be careful and text me when you’re done I wanna talk.

You: Okay. I’m done by three.

Nothing bad could possibly come out of this, you’ve already done the biggest part and he told you that he likes you. Straight up just said it and that he wants to make a relationship between you two work. Nothing else bad can come out of that.

Sam: Meet me at the cafe in front of the gate?

He wants to meet up? Now? No way, youre half out of your mind and if someone doesn’t drop you onto a bed at this moment, you will be throwing hands. You barely slept a wink in that bed, no matter how warm and there Sam was next to you, it didn’t calm you down as much as you thought it would. You still got to sleep, just not enough, a few hours considering you kept waking up every hour to check that he’s still asleep and make sure you’re not dreaming.

You: Okay.

The monologue was helpful and very true, but there’s no way you’re rejecting him when you want to talk just as much as he does, if not more.

“—and so it’s back to its normal set point. This is what we call negative feedback mechanism.” 

You might need a tutor, though.

“Hey, mum.” Your heart softens hearing her voice blare through the phone. So much background noise, your siblings, but she’s laughing as she asks how you’ve been. “Great, I’m okay. How are you guys? I know I haven’t been checking in lately, ‘s my fault.”

She asks about your grades and how studying is going and you tell her the truth, you’re a little distracted today but other than that everything’s okay, that earns you a lecture, that you cut short when you see Sam approaching your table. You already ordered a redbull for yourself and since you didn’t know what sam wanted you got water.

“Love you so much more.” You smile and shut your phone off as you stand up to greet him and he hugs you, his cologne penetrating everything at this point. Did he always smell this good because God, how? “I’m sorry I’ve just been tired so I got it— do you wanna order?” 

He shakes his head and you both sit down opposite to each other as you try and drown your drink. He looks like he wants to say something and you’re not sure anymore whether or not this is ‘nothing’ like you tried to convince yourself. 

“How’s school? Do you have classes today?”

“No, no, just a project meet up tonight—” With Lily, probably. He takes his phone out to put down on the table as it rings loudly to show a notification. “But you left, sweetheart. So I wanted to ask you about that.”

“I had class.”

“Your class starts at one, you left way before that.” How’d he know that? “Yesterday, did I make you uncomfortable?” You hate this. Two steps forward, one step back. You kissed, you thought that meant you could do more but you can’t and you have no idea why you lied to yourself.

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong?” You shrug and take another sip. “Yesterday we were tired and it was late so if you did something you regret or if you don’t mean what you said—”

“What? No, I meant it. Why, did you not mean it? You said you’d wait.” It’s moments like these where you regret having the ability to speak. Jumping to conclusions and deciding things for everyone has been your default. You’re a control freak, it’s the least you do. 

“You’re the one who’s not talking!” He says, a little loud and exasperated which forced you to lean back in your seat. “You said you want this to work so you have to open up to me.” He’s making it sound like a school project.

“It’s just how I am, I don’t like airing out every single thought and feeling I have.” And then, because if there’s one thing you know how to do it's setting boundaries, “If you don’t like that, Sam, then just go.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I want to be here but— okay, so, I’ll recap what happened. Before we slept we said we’d try to take it slow, but that you wanted me. I wanted you.” Wanted? “I want to be with you,” he says strictly, “and then I wake up and you’re back to how you were two days ago. Closed off.”

“I’m not closed off, I tell you everything. I told you I had class, and I was tired so I got a redbull.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” He says with a laugh, a little amused and thankfully, less irritated, “you told me you’re tired? I don’t mean that kind of stuff, baby, I wanna know why you left early. I’m not accusing you of anything, I just want to be there for you. You think about things way too hard and they spin out of control, and I can see it, but I just don’t know where it comes from. You need to clue me in.”

He said ‘baby’ again, and this time he isn’t sleepy. Maybe he deserves a little bit of your thoughts. It isn’t like you’re actively keeping him out, it’s just too much for a lot of people.

“Sam, I don’t mean to be closed off but I think a lot, and it’s just, I don’t know, I guess high maintenance for some people. You don’t need to know every single thing.”

“I’m not saying every single thing about your entire life, but maybe just about us for now?” Maybe time stops, maybe it doesn't, maybe you’re hearts behind it, but when you face him again it’s a different expression than before. He’s frowning at you like the answer means the world to him and you can’t help but feel guilty and enamored by how fucking beautiful he actually is. And he likes you? It’s getting harder to accept by the moment. 

Contrary to popular belief you are not just a control freak. You’re also an over-thinker with self-sabotaging tendencies that could last you three lifetimes, but you just can’t find it in yourself to do anything to hurt Sam. You just can’t. With those jutted lips and sparkling eyes.

Do his eyes always sparkle like that?

His laugh coerces you out of your daydream and— when did he move his chair closer? “Answer me, then we’ll talk about whatever you want.”

Including his eyes?

“Yes.” You should invest in tape if you’re going to start blurting out your thoughts. 

“I wasn’t uncomfortable but I need space sometimes. I get overwhelmed easily and I don’t mean it in a bad way but my mind just organizes things better when I’m alone.” He nods, looks down at your hand on the table and takes it in his, it jolts you and you look up at him. “And— sometimes holding me or just touching me overwhelms me and if I ask you to stop it isn’t because of you.”

“Like now?”

You shake your head quickly, pressing your fingers into his to assure him. “No, not now.”

“Yesterday?” You answer no and he smiles. “So you just needed to think?”

“Yes.”

“And you thought doing all of this was better than just telling me that you needed time to think.” Well, when you put it like that… “Can I kiss you?”

“What?” 

“Can I kiss you?” You should probably think about this logically before you answer— who will see you and stuff, but you’re nodding yes and he’s leaning in faster than your mind can comprehend.

It’s short, and when you pull away, you’re still so close, “so you’re not mad?”

“I’ll never be mad if you tell me how you feel or what you need.” Hell of a promise to keep, Winchester.

“Jess, come on, you know me!” The argument is a futile one, and you’re aware of it.

“I know, and that's why I'm so disappointed. You slept at his house? On my girlfriend's bed?” Right, so maybe you left the important details out like you’re make-out session in the middle of the night and both of you decide to take it slow but ultimately are in a relationship. Speaking of, this means exclusive, right? Fuck, you should’ve asked. 

“That’s— whatever! I didn’t do anything stupid, don’t worry.” Biggest understatement of the century but you just can’t bring yourself to tell her anything yet. Besides, you have exams soon and that seems like a much more important task to focus on.

“Look, babe, I’m not saying I’m angry, but you promised you’d be careful.”

“I was!”

“No you’re not. You get attached easily, and you love way too fast— Sam can control himself! If you two stop talking tomorrow he wouldn’t feel the same way you would.” It fucking burns more than anything in the world to hear it from Jess. Especially from her. Possibly because she knows you best and it would mean that what she’s saying is true, and you’re not ready to face that.

She’s right, though, and you’ve always known it. But it isn’t like that with Sam— it hasn’t been like that since you came to college. Not that Jess was with you before it but you’ve told her almost everything about you, past and present, so her words come from a place of analyzation. And love.

“I’m different now. And he’s different.”

She shrugs, moving closer, a hand on both your shoulders, “I couldn’t care less about Sam,” lie, “but I will not allow anyone to hurt you. Ever.”

And it shouldn’t be that comforting considering she’s only a twenty one year old woman who’s never had a stable job in her life and hasn’t talked to her parents in two years, but it is. It’s the most comfort you've felt the whole week, and you bring her in for a hug because of it.

For all her advice, she’s wrong about one thing. You’re not all-in with Sam. You’re scared, fucking petrified of what this could lead to, but you’re not in high school anymore, your responsibilities aren’t just ‘study and maybe get a top grade’. In uni you can very easily get kicked off— and outside of school, you have to go back home in a month. Unlike your hopeless romantic fourteen-year-old self, you’re aware of your goals. 

And maybe you can’t say it out loud to Jess yet, but you’re proud of yourself for recognizing it within yourself.  part six; baby, don’t get it twisted.

title: love notes by alexa cirri

prompt: person a: ‘come on, you know me!’ person b: ‘I know, and that's why I'm so disappointed.’ from @alphabetquest !!

they finally kissed!!!!! Is this the beginning of their relationship?? I’ve had too much angst for now so I’m thinking next chapter they just cuddle the whole time. comment if you wanna be tagged!

tag list:

@angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats 

@oohjana18294 @user-2538484747490203746579403 @wattpaduser200 @s0urw00lf @ashlynyyyyy

@strabarrybat @anu-piyakya97 @tranquilitybasegrunge

[matchpointfaist]

common tongue - art donaldson

;; you’ve spent five years hating art donaldson, and he’s spent five years trying to pry the hate from you

cw; sexual content, degradation, angst, spitting, slapping, biting, art and reader are both kinda evil!

this is really short i just couldn’t stop thinking ab it! sorry! literally wrote this in like 15 mins the urge was killing me

when the meanings gone, there is clarity

and the reason comes from the common tongue

of you loving me

and it’s easy, darlin, don’t need a remedy

and the reason comes from the common tongue

of you loving me

you watched art’s match intently, your eyes darting back and forth between him and his opponent, who was currently demolishing him. with one last, echoing hit of the ball, art had lost. “40, love. zweig takes the match,” the announcer called, and you watched as art threw down his racket, frustration lacing his every moment, and stalked off the court.

you found him just outside the men’s locker rooms, sweat still dripping from his hair, his muscles taut as he stood there. “you let him beat you,” you said, your voice breaking the silence of the empty hallway. “i don’t want to fucking hear it today,” art snapped, his voice raspy with anger, “i’m serious.” “like that ever stopped me before,” you laughed sarcastically, “seriously, art, what was that? you’ve beaten him before,”

you reflected on your time at stanford, when art beat nearly anyone he competed against, especially patrick zweig. “fuck off,” he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, “if you came here to instigate, i’m not in the mood, honestly,” “i’m here to tell you you played like a fucking bitch,” you snapped back, “you lost to a fucking loser,”

his hands were on your jaw in an instant, yanking you closer to him, his voice slow, “shut the fuck up. you’re so high and mighty, like anyone even knows who you are,” he spat. you flinched slightly, the anticipation wound tightly inside you, “yeah? nobody knows who i am, art? then why are you so obsessed with me?”

his lips crashed into yours roughly, five years of tension and hostility pent up into this moment. “you think i’m such a fucking loser,” he seethed, “but you come here time and time again, antagonizing me into fucking you. i’m so pathetic, but i know you don’t ever want to leave my hotel room in the morning. you act like you hate me but you come here begging for me like a fucking slut every time i’m in town,”

you relish in the sound of his voice, stretched so thin with self restraint, with violent anger, his breath hot against your face. “don’t fuck me then,” you say breezily, “tell me to leave and i’ll go. look me in the face and tell me you don’t think about me every time you’re on that court, and that’s why you lose every fucking time. because you know i’ll be waiting for you and you’ll get to bury all your problems inside me,”

he grabs you by your throat roughly, pushing you against the wall. “i’m not even gonna wait to get you back to the hotel, since you wanna act so needy for it,” he says, inches from your ear, “gonna fuck you right here in this hallway. maybe patrick will come, see what a fucking loser i am making you scream for it, huh?” you whined underneath his grip, prying at his fingers. he released his grip on your throat, his now free hand coming to the waist band of your shorts, pulling them down roughly.

“art,” you snap, “you’re not fucking me in this hallway, you’re fucking insane,” “if you don’t want me to, you tell me to stop, otherwise i’m doing what i want with you,” he said, his voice dripping with anger, a layer of possessiveness, “don’t get to act like that and then tell me what to do,” he kissed you roughly, pulling one of your legs up around his waist, his fingernails scraping you as he grabbed at your thigh.

your back arched off the wall, leaning into his touch, hating how easily you gave into him. he pulled away, glaring down at you as he pushed down his own shorts just enough to free his cock from the fabric, and your mouth watered at the sight. he pushed your panties to the side, a sarcastic laugh leaving his mouth as he felt just how wet you were against his fingers. “not even gonna take these off, just gonna move them to the side. treat you like the fucking whore you are,” he said, his voice low.

you gasped as he slid into you in one quick, fluid motion, not taking anytime for you to adjust before he fucked into you roughly, his hand returning to its position around your throat. “tell me i’m a fucking bitch now,” he spat, a strangled groan leaving his throat. “you’re a fucking bitch, art,” you mewled, and you swore you felt him get even harder inside you, “only good thing about you is your cock. i’m sure patrick could even do this better,”

something in him snapped, and he squeezed the sides of your jaw, forcing your mouth open, his jaw tense as he spit into your open mouth. your mouth twisted into a smirk as he released your jaw, and you swallowed it, eliciting another groan from art.

“you’re so fucking pathetic,” he panted against you, his theusts growing rougher, “this is the only thing you’re good for,” “don’t act like you don’t love me, art,” you whimpered, “i know you think about me,” “i think about you like this, in your fucking place, but nothing else,” he snapped, his gaze unbelievably intense as he glared down at you still, “this is all i’ll ever love you for,”

you slapped him before you could stop yourself, raking your fingernails down his cheek, your face hot with humiliation and frustration and years of art refusing to admit his feelings for you. his hips only faltered for a second, before he was grabbing your hips roughly and fucking into you harder, biting down on your neck, “fucking bitch,” he growled into your skin.

your back arched into him again, your body betraying you as you shook against him, your high pitched moans echoing through the empty hallway. “gonna cum for me? hm? i can tell you’re close,” art groaned, his hand between the two of you rubbing your clit roughly. you dug your nails his shoulders, your breath rapid as you came around him, nearly screaming his name. “good fucking girl,” he moaned, his head tipping back, his cum spilling into you as his hips jerked against you.

you pulled your leg from around his waist, your eyes stinging with tears as you pulled away from him, pulling up your shorts. “hey, wait,” art panted, eyes wide as you started to walk away from him, “what’re you doing?” “going home, wouldn’t want to inconvenience you staying around your hotel in the morning,” you snapped, your face hot with shame, “this will never happen again,” “wait,” he grabbed your wrist, “i didn’t mean that, come on,” “how am i supposed to know what you do and don’t mean, art?” “you told me what a fucking bitch loser i am,” he said, his voice cracking with exasperation, “it’s just what we do, don’t go,”

“i don’t want to keep doing this,” you sigh, running your hands through your hair, “it is just what we do, i know, i’m just tired of acting like there’s not something here,” his eyes softened, “you think there’s something here? i’ve felt it, but i thought,” he laughed bitterly, “i guess i kinda thought you hated me,”

“hated you? jesus, art. you’re not that pathetic,” you said sarcastically, “i’m not saying i’m in love with you or anything. just maybe i don’t want to hear about how you don’t want me there in the morning,” “but i do want you there in the morning. please, come back with me,” you sigh, feeling yourself giving into him, “yeah, fine. you should win something at least,” you say, glaring at him with the fresh anger still on your mind. “yeah, whatever. i’m gonna flaunt you in front of zweig, see if he stays cocky after that.”

[littlejuicebox]

Little Lockpick.

Okay this is the last addition for the weekend.

My ADHD hyperfixated on Dadstarion and now I need to focus on my big girl life and job for the week.

Definitely didn’t mean to go this crazy on the writing but hey, when inspiration strikes. 🤷‍♀️

I really need to update these headers at some point. Problems for future Gina.

Summary: Toddler Gale has developed new magic skills and wants Papastarion to open a lock NOW. Right now. Tav has some interesting news after an appointment.

Tags/Warnings: kids, babies, parenthood, fluff, idk what else?

*

Astarion is in his office, trying to work, which is almost impossible with Gale sitting on his lap. The toddler is fiddling with something in his small hands as his father reads over a scroll for the second time, trying to focus on the words. It’s become increasingly difficult to do so as frustrated huffs and grunts escape the almost-three-year-old.

“Daddy! Help!” Gale exclaims, pulling Astarion’s attention from the scroll and down to the little silver-haired boy. The toddler is shaking what’s in his hand up at his father, nose crinkled in displeasure.

“Hmm…” The elf murmurs, taking the little toy — if you could call it that — from his son. It’s a small padlock. The toddler had been trying, quite incessantly, to open it for nearly half an hour. It was enough to keep Gale pre-occupied while his mother went to her appointment, but now the toddler is getting frustrated and his father knows there will soon be a melt down if the issue isn’t remedied.

“Little prince, where did you find this?” Astarion asks while handing the tiny metal lock back to Gale. The silver-haired boy climbs off his father’s lap. Uncoordinated legs take him over to the bookshelf along the office wall, and he points to the bottom shelf.

“Found here! Right here.” The toddler babbles, crinkling his white eyebrows at his father, wondering why the older man is asking him such a silly question. Gale is growing more impatient, upset that Astarion simply isn’t doing what he asked and opening the lock. But no, daddy insists on asking him these questions instead, “Why daddy? Why? Open it!”

Tiny fingers grip the loop of the lock again, trying and failing to release the mechanism with sheer force. The child’s two little arms aren’t strong enough to pry open the lock. Gale is growing more and more frustrated. Red patches flush across his cheeks as he grunts, compelling Astarion to move from his chair and crouch in front of the toddler, intending to placate him.

“We need a key to open the lock, Gale. I was hoping there would be one near where you found the lock but I don’t think—“ The elf starts, but he’s cut off by a high pitched wail escaping his son.

“OPEN! OPEN! OPEN!”

The little boy is throwing himself on the ground now, still gripping the offending toy. Fat, frustrated tears are falling from his gorgeous green eyes. He’s practically the spitting image of his father, and even in his tantrums he is a beautiful, adorable thing. But Astarion begins to panic, knowing Gale needs to calm down, he needs to calm down before—

The toddler shrieks at the top of his lungs and a powerful gust of wind comes from nowhere, knocking Astarion onto his back and sending a flurry of papers shooting off the desk.

It’s ironic, Astarion thinks, that his son is named Gale and the first spell he can unintentionally cast is a gust of wind whenever he’s throwing a tantrum. The elf is groaning in pain as his eyes clamp shut; he is trying desperately to regain his composure before he addresses the toddler. These terrible twos have been… well, terrible. Astarion’s patience is running thin.

He remembers his wife’s coaching. Deep breath in, long exhale out. The poor little prince doesn’t know any better.

The wind scares Gale into silence. He doesn’t yet understand his powers, and when he sees his father knocked prone on the floor, he starts crying again. They’re sticky, snot-filled, guilty tears, this time. He doesn’t understand how he conjures the wind, but he does know that the damage is his fault. Despite his current tantrum, Gale is an overall empathetic and sensitive boy, and the vision of the damage he’s done worries him.

“Sorry, daddy!” The toddler gasps through choked cries, sitting himself up and bunching his hands in tight, worried fists which he brings to the sides of his face, “I a bad boy!”

Astarion rolls himself up to a sitting position and scoops the child into his arms with a belabored sigh, “You’re not a bad boy, Gale.”

He soothes the child in a soft coo as he rubs small circles on the little boy’s back. Gale’s small body continues to wrack with sobs as his father places a kiss on his crown of silvery curls and whispers, “You’re just an exceptionally powerful one. But you get that from your mother, little prince.”

The elf stands, taking his son with him in the process as he walks out of the office, headed towards the bedchambers and still rubbing the little boy’s back as the toddler begins to calm down.

The papers will just have to be cleaned up later.

*

“Again, again, daddy!”

When you find your husband and child, they are both laying atop your bed, facing away from the door. Gale is giggling incessantly and clapping his hands together, asking his father to repeat something.

“There you two are. What are you doing?” You ask as you enter the room, one hand on your stomach. You’ve just come from an appointment with Jaheira.

The two men turn their heads and grin at you practically in unison. It makes you chuckle. It’s truly startling, how similar they are from their looks to their mannerisms. You catch sight of Astarion’s old lockpicking kit between the two of them, and your eyebrow cocks curiously.

“Are you really showing our toddler how to pick locks, Astarion?” You ask as you make your way to sit on the bed with the rest of your little family.

“Yes. But it’s a bit of a story, love. I’ll fill you in on the details later.” Your husband responds, handing the padlock and one of the tools to Gale, where he attempts to mimic the previous motions of his father. His tiny tongue sticks out as he focuses.

Astarion moves to kiss your cheek and then lightly brushes his fingers against your abdomen, subtly greeting the growing life inside, “How did the appointment go?”

“Good…” You murmur in a long, drawled out way. By your tone and the large grin spreading across your face, your husband can tell something is up.

His eyebrow cocks as he assesses your face, trying to decipher the thoughts behind your eyes. Whatever it is, it obviously isn’t bad news, and the knot in his stomach he’d constantly carried prior to this preliminary check-up is starting to finally subside as he analyzes you.

It took a long time to conceive this round; you two had nearly given up. When you finally missed your moonblood, both of you were waiting with bated breath for the first month. This experience was a sharp contrast to Gale’s conception, which happened easily, by accident and without much thought. Both of you had been emotional, nervous wrecks up until now.

“What is it, darling?” Your husband asks, smiling despite himself, simply matching your energy.

“Jaheira is almost certain it’s twins, Astarion.” You respond, and then you’re laughing as you watch your husband’s face turn from shocked to excited to worried to overwhelmed all in the span of a few seconds.

“Twins?” He asks, dumbly, trying to process the new information. A hand comes to rake through his curls as he exhales through the shock, “Love, we might need to hire some more help, I know you said you didn’t want to, but—“

“Yes, I was thinking the same. Especially if they’re also going to show Gale’s same penchant for spells.” You agree, and at the mention of your son’s name he perks up and grins at you, proudly showing you the lock, “Speaking of which…”

You reach into your robe pocket and retrieve a small beaded necklace before patting your lap, and beckoning to your son, “Come here to me, my little love.”

Gale obliges happily, crawling over to settle in your lap. You kiss the crown of his head and then clasp the small necklace onto the toddler. Astarion is watching you curiously, his head tilts to the side as he brings his hand to grasp the necklace and examine it. The toddler sure does love that lock, he’s barely acknowledging either of you as you speak around him.

“It’s a dampener,” You explain, “I was telling Jaheira about the recent development. She gave me this. It won’t completely take away Gale’s powers… but it should help to reduce the strength of his spells until he learns to control them himself.”

Astarion nods with a relieved sigh, “Good. If I’m being honest, darling, I was worried he might accidentally hurt you.”

You nod knowingly and then groan as your stomach begins to growl. The appointment took a bit longer than you thought; it’s past your usual lunch time. You begin to stand, pulling the toddler in your arms with you as you say, “Now how about lunch in the sunroom? I’m starving.”

Astarion hums in agreement, “Go on, my love. I’ll grab the food and join you two in just a moment.”

You nod and carry Gale out, singing softly to the little boy as you head to the sunroom, leaving Astarion to gather his own thoughts for a moment.

The elf throws himself back on the bed with a groan, running his hand through his curls once again. Twins.

Twice the joy. Twice the work.

Astarion cannot help but to laugh, and then smile, even though he knows the next few years are going to be hectic. Perhaps more hectic than he’d imagined. Before long he’s rolling off the bed and headed to the kitchen, planning to prepare a platter of sandwiches and tea for himself and his two — four — little loves.