#Hope this makes you laugh when you see it

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝

You try to break up with your boyfriend. Aaron just wants to know why. (And what he can do to fix it.) [4k]

c: fem, stripper!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff epilogue, suggestive themes mdni. requested here 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

I don’t want to see you anymore. 

The text doesn’t compute at first. He reads it twice. Reads the sender’s name, his heart stopped clean in his chest. 

He puts down his pen.

The idea that the text wasn’t meant for him crosses his mind, but that might further break his heart. He knows you have clients, but you don’t contact them outside of the club. 

His second thought is that he’d been a client unknowingly, but he made it clear to you those few months ago that he liked you as you, not as a service provider, and not as something to be bought. You thought he was trying to acquire you as a private escort. He explained it as what it was truthfully, if vulnerably.

He’s being broken up with, he surmises. Over text. By a woman he adores, who he’d thought was happy. Aaron opens his phone to call you, clicking your contact, bringing it to his ear. You don’t answer. He calls again and he’s clearly declined three rings in. 

He puts his phone down and has a few minutes of unbreathable heartbreak. Just a few minutes, his hand to his stomach, trying to think of things as reasonably as he can. 

Aaron doesn’t care that you’re a stripper. He might’ve at first. Denied his attraction to you, because of course he had feelings for you when you were standing against the side of the club in your dancing lingerie, who wouldn’t fall in love with you? Every fool lucky enough to see you undressed must assume the same thing. He thought it wouldn’t work, and that you’d never be interested in a man like him. 

Interviews for information lended themselves to rare moments of conversation. He liked how you talked, how your eyes moved to his, the way you watched his mouth. Your unusual friendship with Spencer drew you closer, and activated a rare seed of jealousy within him that helped him place you in his life. He had real, tangible feelings for you. 

And now it’s over. 

He scrunches his eyes closed and gets up from his desk. Puts his coat on, but leaves his things where they are on his desk. 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks as he descends the steps down from his office into the bullpen. 

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” 

“What happened?” 

Aaron turns to Morgan, hiding his panic as well as he’s able to. “I have a small emergency. It’s fine. Can you make sure things are okay here?” 

“Hotch?” Morgan asks again. 

Aaron keeps on going. He tries your number again on the way down. Three times, a fourth by the time he’s at the parking garage. 

The fifth time, you answer. 

He almost breaks the phone, its plastic body creaking in his hand. “Honey?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore, Aaron. Is it hard to understand?” 

He’s taken aback. Some part of him had held onto the hope that it was a mistake. “Yes,” he says slowly, struggling to pull his keys out as his car comes into view, “it is.” 

“I don’t want to be with you.” 

“Have I upset you?” 

“Would that make it easier?” 

“No. I don’t think anything would make it any easier. Honey, this feels so sudden. Can’t we talk about it?” 

“I don’t want to see you.” 

“Please.” He can’t imagine never seeing you again. Just a few days ago he was sitting at the dinner table with you laughing opposite, your socked toes brushing his ankle. “Please, give me the chance to fix this.” 

“Aaron, it’s not really fixable. Please don’t call me again.”

“Y/N,” he says, firmer now. Anger leaks into his tone —what’s going on? “Let me come over. We need to talk about this.” 

“No–”

“It’s not fair to me for you to do it over the phone.” 

“…Okay. Fine. I’m at home, but I have work at six.” 

“I’m on my way.” 

He hangs up. Your terse allowance is all he needs to get in the car and drive, checking his watch. There’s plenty of time between now and six. He can figure out what’s wrong and hopefully change your mind.

He thinks about it more seriously as he’s parking outside of your place. Perhaps he doesn’t want to change your mind. You aren’t acting like you, none of your kindness can be found in such a swift dismissal, but he thinks of your foot under the table, your sock rubbing along his ankle without comment. 

He takes the stairs to your apartment. It’s not the nicest place to stay, but it’s far from a slum, either. He doesn’t worry about you when you’re home beyond the usual everyday fears: Is she eating? Sleeping? Having a good day? 

Now he’s thinking, What did I do? 

He gets to your apartment and pauses at the threshold. After a moment's deliberation, he knocks. 

“Come in, Aaron.” 

He pulls down the handle and lets himself in. You’ve mail piled on the sideboard and your shoes tucked under it, a coat rack further in bragging scarves and coats and jackets of all different colours. He’s always liked the interior of your apartment. It doesn’t feel as cold as his own, parts of your personality peeking in through everything, from the flowered tiles in the bathroom to the glass lampshade in the bedroom. 

You’re sitting in the kitchen with the light off. “Hey,” he says, voice already laden with relief he doesn’t mean to share. 

“Hi.” 

“Can I sit down?” 

You gesture for him to do as he likes. 

Aaron sits down at your table. It’s a small square just big enough to share dinner, plain wood edged in a darker slate grey outline. Sometimes when you’re feeling especially pretty, you’ll lean heavily on an elbow and grin at him, enticing him in for a kiss.

“What’s this all about?” he asks quietly. 

“I just think we’re… at the end of our relationship.” 

You don’t sound truthful. He knew there was something strange in your voice over the phone. 

“What’s making you feel that way?” 

“Does it matter?” 

Again, avoiding and evasive. 

He meets your gaze unflinchingly. “I care about you. I love you,” he says. “I know I can’t be who you pictured for yourself, and if you really can’t see a future for us, then… I’ll have seen it alone. I just wish I could understand this sudden change. Did I do something wrong?” 

“You’re not who I picture for myself,” you agree. 

“No?” he asks. 

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong, but I can’t see us together. We’re not the right fit.” 

You twist a ring around your middle finger. He thinks he’s starting to understand. “Do you think we’re not the right fit?” 

“Please don’t use your psychoanalysis on me.” 

“It’s not psychoanalysis, sweetheart, it’s– I know you.” He grimaces. “I’d like to think I do. And I’m allowing myself the audacity to believe you were happy with me just a few days ago. What happened between then and now to change your mind?” 

You stare at your two-toned table. Your mouth opens to talk, little but air making it out. Your shoulders begin tightening like you’ve been keyed between them, twisting and twisting. 

“What do you want me to say?” you ask. 

Dramatic, he’d hope you could say you don’t love him, or don’t care about him enough to let him convince you the rest of the way. “Is this really what you want?” he asks instead. 

Your staring turns to squinting. With a start, he watches a small tear drip from the corner of your eye to your nostril, to your cupid's bow. 

“No,” you say carefully, “it’s not what I want. I don’t like you being against me.” 

“Then what’s making you feel this way?” 

You cover your eyes with one hand. “I wanted to do this over the phone,” you say in a squeeze. 

He reaches for you but doesn’t touch. “I couldn’t let you.” 

“I just want you to be happy,” you say, so high he can barely understand you. “I’ll never be like you, Aaron. You’re so smart, and you’ve done so much. You’re a hero, and you must look so stupid with me. What do you think people say when they realise what I am?” 

“It doesn’t matter to me what they say. I know you, and they don’t.”

“What about what I think?” 

“What do you think?” 

You wipe your face roughly, eyes lit with an anger he’s unprepared for. “I told you, don’t psychoanalyse me. I don’t want to have to explain it, I just want to say what I have to say. I don’t want to be with you because you won’t be happy, and neither will I.” 

Aaron isn’t too prideful to recognise when he needs to fight for what he wants. He reaches over the table and takes your arm into his hand, picking it up, feeling down The length of it until he’s curled his hand over your smaller fingers. “We are happy,” he says softly, giving your hand a small shake. “I understand where you’re coming from. When we first met, I couldn’t have predicted that I’d be here with you now. I do wonder what people think when they ask me what you do and I tell them you’re a performer. I know we agreed to it, but there are moments where I feel like I’m being cruel to you. But just because there’s a stigma surrounding what you do, it doesn’t mean that you’re any lesser than me. You’re not less intelligent, or less accomplished. We chose different paths and I’m glad we did. If you weren’t a dancer I never would’ve met you.” 

“Do you know how it feels for me to come home to you sometimes?” you ask weakly. 

“I’d hope it feels as it does for me. Every time I see you, I’m relieved.” 

“Aaron, I get this rush of safety, like you’re– I’m finally safe. I can take care of myself, you know that, but now I have you it’s that I don’t even want to. And that’s stupid. I know that that’s stupid.” 

“What I’m thinking,” he says, soft, not as worried about being without you now as he is of the horrible way you’re feeling, “is that you’ve thought about all of this a lot. I’m glad you’ve taken time to reflect on us and your life, but I wish you’d thought more about what we both want.” 

“I want you to be happy,” you argue, as you had a few moments ago. 

“And I’m never happier than when we’re together.” He shrugs. “Love isn’t about work. Your job shapes you as mine shapes me, but you have to know that who you are is what’s important.” 

“I don’t know who I am…” 

“I know exactly who you are,” he says, rubbing a loving thumb over your knuckles. 

“I’m… I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you, on the phone. I knew if I talked to you like this I’d be too much of a coward to really see it through.” 

“I see. You’ve planned my heartbreak weeks in advance.” 

You shake your head sadly. “Aaron, we’re not good for each other. You make me this awful, weak version of me, and I’m no good.” 

“We have been nothing but happy since we met.” Aaron pulls your hand up and kisses the side of your wrist. He isn’t ashamed of you. He doesn’t make you weak, you aren’t. “I don’t know how to explain it. Sometimes it feels like we’re from different worlds, but it’s not that melodramatic. You’re my partner. I love you. It’s hard not to think about what others think of us, but I know exactly what I think of you, and I know what you think of me, too.” 

You share a look. 

“I’ve never heard you talk so much,” you say, your frown fading. “I’m sorry.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong.” 

“When I thought I couldn’t get any more embarrassing,” you mumble. 

“You aren’t embarrassing. Please, put the thought out of your head.” 

“Thought out of my head,” you repeat, still mumbling as you flex your fingers, pushing them between his and intertwining your hands. You bring them linked to your forehead and take a heavy breath. 

“Do you really want to break up?” he asks softly. 

Your breath warms his arm. “No.” 

“You can have the things you want, you know? I imagine that there are people who laugh when I tell them about you, but you have to know that their opinions would never matter to me.” He pulls his hand from your head to encourage you to meet his eyes. “No one else matters but me and you. We don’t have to factor in other people. We can just be together.” 

“I’m not worth all the fuss,” you say under your breath. 

“What, this fuss? Honey, a few weeks ago you cried in my lap because I got you that cake from the bakery. And you know what? I didn’t want you to cry, but getting to rub your back?” He chances a smile. “That made my night.” 

“You like making girls cry.” 

“Yes,” he says, trying not to grin like a fool as you stand from your chair and put yourself in front of him. He is no saint. He pulls you onto his thighs and wraps an arm around the small of your back, your legs either side of him. “That’s my goal in life, sweetheart.” His voice falls to a whisper as you hang your head against him, tip of your nose to a rough cheek. “Making you cry…” 

Your arms creep to his neck. Resting on him, rather than hugging. He doesn’t mind, he’ll do the hard work. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur. 

“It’s okay.” He turns your face with his to press his lips to your cheek. “It’s alright, honey, bumps in the road happen with everyone.” 

“All my fault.” 

“Maybe next time, if you feel so strongly about something, you can just extend me that little bit of faith and… know that I’m here for you. Even if it did mean we wouldn’t be together, it doesn’t have to be that you’re alone, making such a big decision. Valiant,” he adds, enjoying the warmth of you seeping into his shirt, his face, his neck where your wrist is laid against it. “You’re not a coward. But I wish you wouldn’t be this brave about breaking my heart.” 

“Stop making me feel guilty.” 

His laugh is a breath against your cheek. “No, it’s fine, isn’t it? Use me and abuse me.” 

“Shut up. Stop, what is this weird guilt tripping you’re doing?” You laugh at his absurdity. “I’d never abuse you.” 

“I know. Just step on me a bit.” 

“Stop, stop,” you mumble, your voice turning slowly from self-pitying to honey, all that love for him he knew you still had like threads of gold shooting through it, “I don’t wanna step on you, I never would…” 

“Just rough me up a little.” 

“Never.” You press your face to his neck. “Thank you for not letting me do it.” 

“I won’t let you go so easily.” His hand trails up your back, feeling the softness of you beneath your t-shirt. Fat, muscle, all of it familiar, and treasured by his touching. 

He squeezes you rather tightly, then, but you don’t complain, you just sigh. 

“It’s not that you’re not who I picture for myself, like I said before,” you confess, leaning all your weight against him, barely held up by your legs either side of him. “You weren’t, but I didn’t realise that I could have you. I didn’t really know men like you existed. I should’ve known I was looking in the wrong age bracket.” 

“That’s not very nice. In my line of work they call that a feedback sandwich, honey. Something cruel between nice things to distract me.” 

“Sorry. Just had to get it in.” 

He considers your teasing a return to normalcy, guiding your head away from his with a hand to the back of your neck. “If this was a ploy to make me leave work early, consider it successful.” 

“I know your attention usually falls to other places, Mr. Hotchner–” You burst into giggles as he pinches the back of your neck, but it’s only to pull you in for a kiss, smiling against your parted lips as your laughter fades away.

You scrunch his shirt in your hand and kiss him nicely. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“Forgiven.” Even if he did almost go into cardiac arrest at his desk. “I like begging to stay. It builds character.” 

“How long will you be like this?” you ask, shaking your head slowly, your smile poorly hidden. 

You’d needed a reminder, is all. Aaron isn’t solely business and sternness, he’s an idiot, your idiot, who likes to tease you, and doesn’t care who knows that. When he’s working he’s one person, and when he’s with you, he’s another. Both have their qualities and faults, but only one version is the one he needs to be with you. 

“At my age it’s perfectly normal to have a young and beautiful wife,” he says. “You’ve seen some of the other Section’s worker’s wives.” 

“I’m not that young,” you say. 

“So you admit it?” 

You reward him with a tired sigh, cuddling into his collar. 

—

…I'll never be your beast of burden. So let's go home and draw the curtains…

Aaron’s humming from the bedroom. He knows every classic rock song to exist, every word to every Beatles song. When the chorus comes, he sings under his breath, but you can hear him regardless. “Am I rough enough, am I rich enough? I’m not too blind…” he fades off. 

The music hums under your feet. Record player open on the floor, his Some Girls vinyl on the plate. 

You press a hand down your side. 

To inspire less worry on your part, you and Aaron are trying to be more open about the other sides of your lives. His work feels alien to you, and you worry that yours is dirty to him, despite reassurance that a job is a job. You know that already, but you can’t make yourself believe that he’s as happy as he could be if you were, say, a checkout girl. 

You’d make a cute checkout girl, he’d said. 

This is cute, too. Babydoll lingerie with feather edgings, starkly white against your skin. You fluff out the ends and neaten the crotch of your panties. Nothing is on show that shouldn’t be, but it’s still lingerie. It’s meant to excite. 

“Honey,” he says, dulcet tone carrying to the bathroom, “are you stuck again?” 

You laugh. “I bet you hope so.” 

“That’s accusatory in nature.” 

“I’m coming.” You give it a last glance in the mirror and head into the bedroom. 

Aaron’s sat against your headboard, flowery pillowcases behind his head and back. He discards the little figurine he’d been playing with out of boredom and looks you up and down, corners of his lips curling. 

“Home only,” he says. 

“I knew you’d say that.” 

“You look stunning.” His eyes seem darker. All pupil. 

“I have to wear some of these at the club, Aaron, that’s why I bought them.” 

Something in your voice makes him smile. “You said I could veto the ones that are too beautiful.” 

“I said too slutty.” 

“Honey, they’re all revealing in their ways. And I don’t have a problem with it…” He takes a breath. “Much. But some of these are meant for…” 

“The man who loves me?”

“Exactly.” 

He’d said something similar about the light blue set with darker flowers, the black set that showed the curves of your chest, and especially about the pink one-piece with white ribbons. That one gave him pause. 

“Spin?” he asks. 

One day it might bother Aaron that you dance, but for now he’s gently approving. Just wants you to be happy. So you do a little spin without any attempt to be sexy and beam when he whistles. 

“Beautiful. Really, honey, that’s the nicest so far.” 

“I have a confession.” 

“Yeah?” 

“This one was for you.” 

He’d know if you were lying. “For me?” he says, in that tone bordering stern, as much of his professionalism as you’re used to hearing these days. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t,” he says, seductions gone as he tips his head back into a pillow patterned with lavender and peony. “Unless you’re done trying those on, I don’t want to hear it.” 

“This is the last one.” 

“In that case.” He covers his face with a cushion. 

You look down. Your stomach is a little bloated from lunch, and you have a shaving rash on your left knee, but Aaron won’t mind. He never does. Without worry, you tread to the side of the bed and climb onto it, one leg over his lap. The last time you’d been sitting in his lap, you’d been teary-eyed and regretful. Fuck, what was I thinking? you ask yourself, slipping a hand under his rising shirt to feel his abdomen. It’ll never not be weird, the FBI man and his stripper girlfriend, but it doesn’t have to make sense to anyone but him and you. 

You ease the pillow down his face. 

“Are you blushing, Aaron?” you ask. 

“Not purposefully.” 

“You look a little… hot.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

It starts slowly. The heat of you atop him, the pillows moved out of the way. You didn’t expect him to stay unbothered as you paraded your new spoils, but his willpower is remarkable, and he only breaks when you let yourself settle on his lap. His big hand cups your face. 

“That’s funny.” You lift up enough to be in kissing range, but don’t kiss. You just wait for him to react, holding your weight off of his chest. 

He finds the small of your back and drags. Your gasp isn’t your own, a breathy, excited thing as he brings your face to his for a kiss. Your lips almost immediately part in anticipation of his eagerness, of his hand on the back of your neck, and the unflinching heat of his mouth as he turns his head. Your noses brush. He wades in deeper, his own breath already failing him as the bridges of your nose press hard. 

They aren’t rough kisses, but there’s something desperate there. He holds you to him until he can’t, ushering you onto your back, his weight bearing down sudden and steady. 

“I can’t believe I nearly lost you,” he utters, stroking your cheek, edging back in to kiss you before you can reply. 

You wrap an arm behind his back and hike your leg, soft thigh naked and waiting for his touch. You didn’t nearly lose me, you think. To be lost, you’d have to be something worth losing, and you’re not sure you are, but Aaron? 

“I don’t think you could,” you mumble, forcing him to kiss your cheek, your jaw, the line of your throat. He nips at your neck, a shudder racing through you. 

“I have no intent of letting it come that close again, sweetheart.” 

His hand dances up your side to the soft hill of your chest. 

You hold the hair from his face and let him kiss you. He’s here to stay, no matter how odd a pairing you might make. You love him. That’s all he cares about. 

“Want me to do that thing you like?” you offer softly, mildly playful. 

He laughs into your neck. “No,” he says, “I think tonight is about you, hm? You’re all dressed up. I think that deserves a reward.” 

You knew he’d like the white babydoll. 

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

[caitlinsnicket]

sevika relationship headcanons

warnings: smut by the end, that's probably it

a/n: i sure hope this doesn't awaken anything in me

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

She would never tell you this—not in a million years—but something stirs inside her chest whenever she manages to tower over you in any way.

You might be resting against a wall, and she comes by your side to say something, her arm staying just a few inches above your head (and you pretend it doesn’t do something to you deep down). When she realizes how close you are, it’s like a punch to her gut, and she quickly makes some excuse to leave before you notice her dilated pupils.

After the two of you get together, she loves to tease you and make sure you’re aware of the difference between the two of you (pervert). If you ask her about it, she’ll just say she likes how strong it makes her feel. But it’s not just that: it’s how much cleavage she gets to see, how much of your scent she gets to breathe in, and how easy it would be to just throw you over her shoulder and carry you off wherever she pleases.

She won’t ask you outright, but she always pats her lap to invite you to sit on it—whether it’s during one of her games, at a party, or during a meeting to organize something. She wants to have her hands on you at all times, making sure you’re content and pretty.

There are also the quiet moments, when it’s just the two of you and nothing bad is going on. She’ll climb up until she’s almost on Piltover, your hand in hers. She’ll sit down against a pillar, pull you to her until you’re sitting between her knees, her chin resting on the top of your head, lighting up a joint if she feels like it.

She can feel your heart beating against her chest, nothing else happening, and she wonders if this is something she can actually do—something she can actually deserve. But the lights are shining, children are playing and laughing, and you’re almost purring in her arms, so it’s okay.

Even after she’s used to the relationship, she gets flustered when you hold her by her waist, run your hands over it, or simply rest them there. It’s not just the promise of further touches (God knows she loves those), but also the possessiveness she sees in your eyes. It’s different from what she’s used to—not just being needed, but also wanted.

She loves to watch you fuck yourself on her strap, smoking a joint with her mech arm while her other hand plays with your ass.

She’s an active participant as well, but there’s something so thrilling about your desperation and your need for her.

When she eats you out, she always goes overboard, and you end up pulling her hair really hard. She stops what she’s doing and glares at you before telling you to go harder, then dives right back in.

She likes to pull your lips apart just to watch you clench around nothing.

She loses it when you wear those short, skintight skirts that barely cover your ass in public, your eyes making it clear that whatever you’re doing, it’s on purpose.

She sits you down on the stool in front of her, spreads your legs, and fingers you right then and there until you’re clutching her arm for dear life, trying to suppress your moans.

She licks her hand clean before taking you home.

[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[covenofagatha]

Sugar, spice, and everything nice (Part 3)

Word count: 3100

Warnings: semi-public sex, sex toys, masturbation

You spend almost all of Saturday and Sunday at the bakery, just waiting for Agatha to walk in. 

She never does. 

It was especially hard on Saturday, opening up the box full of sex toys she had sent you and then having to come into work just an hour later, being more turned on than you ever had in your life. The only thing you were looking forward to was Agatha walking in and smirking at you. You were sorely disappointed.

So much so that you hadn’t even found it in yourself to use the toys she had sent. The vibrator, dildo, clit-sucker (you had finally figured out what it was), and the long distance vibrator had sat in the box on your floor for the whole weekend, you trying to not look at it whenever you walked in. 

Was Agatha worried she had made a mistake? You hadn’t texted her Saturday morning upon receiving the package, assuming she’d be in the bakery that morning, but now it seemed too late to send a message. 

Now it’s Monday and you’re supposed to go on a date tomorrow. Maybe you can wear the vibrator on Tuesday. Even just thinking about her letter sends thrills down your spine. 

Is the date still on though? 

And then the door opens and in walks Agatha. Your breath catches in your throat and you stand up off your stool. She is stunning. 

She shoots you her signature smirk and all of your worries and doubts just melt away. 

“Hey, doll,” she says, coming to a stop in front of the register. 

“Agatha,” you sigh. “I haven’t seen you all weekend.” 

She runs a hand through her hair and you find yourself transfixed. “Sorry, sweetheart. I got a new case and it’s very time-consuming. I kept trying to get away but I just couldn’t.” 

And then you feel bad, because of course the excellent lawyer was working and wasn’t avoiding you. 

A glint appears in her eyes. “Did you have a busy weekend?” 

There’s only one thing she could be possibly talking about in that tone with that look on her face. Your cheeks redden and you look at the counter, wiping an imaginary speck of dust off it. 

“I-uh-haven’t actually used any of them yet,” you answer sheepishly. You dare to meet her eyes to see that her smile has gotten bigger if possible. 

“You haven’t? Why not?” 

You shrug, too embarrassed to tell her that you were worried she was icing you out. It sounds stupid now, with her standing right there, but your thoughts tend to get the best of you when you’re alone. 

“Do you need some help with them?” Agatha asks and you choke on nothing. You open and close your mouth a few times, not able to think straight but trying to formulate some kind of response, when she tosses her head back with a laugh. “I’m just joking, doll.” 

“Do you really want me to wear the vibrator tomorrow?” Your voice falls to a hush even though it’s only the two of you in the store. 

“You aren’t wearing it right now?” She teases and you gasp at the thought of her toying with you while you try to make coffee and talk to customers. 

“No,” you squeak and shake your head furiously. “I didn’t know-”

“I’m kidding, doll,” she assures you. “Wear it tomorrow only if you want to. It connects to an app so you’ll have to send me the code on the manual once you open it. If you want to, of course.”

“I do,” you say hoarsely, feeling a flush all over your cheeks and neck. She smiles triumphantly and taps the counter. 

“So, where are you taking me on our next date?” 

You had actually spent a lot of time trying to figure it out. Obviously, as a college student making just above minimum wage, you couldn’t really treat her to a nice restaurant and you weren’t quite sure what she liked to do. 

So you were settling for something simple. 

A nice picnic in the park to watch the sunset. Maybe go for a walk after. Quality time is very important to you and you wanted to just be with the older woman. 

You hoped it would be good enough for her. 

“It’s a surprise. Pick me up at 6 tomorrow?” Not super classy to make her come get you, but you’d much rather ride in her slick, black Range Rover than have to pick her up in your ten year old Subaru. 

“Any plans for after the date?” She asks casually. 

Your mouth opens in mock outrage. “Do you think I’m the kind of girl to have sex after two dates?” With her, you are. You hope she says yes. 

She smirks. “You seemed pretty desperate for sex after the first date, sweetheart. We don’t have to do anything though. We could always go back to my place and just watch a movie.”

“That would be nice,” you admit, even though you know you want her hands on your body. Fuck, if she wanted to come around the counter and slip her fingers into your pants right there and then, you wouldn’t be opposed. 

She seems to know where your head is at and by the darkening in her eyes, she is feeling a similar sort of way. “And if you wanted to, you know, bring those toys…maybe we could finally put them to good use.” 

Your eyes widen and you nod eagerly before you can stop yourself. She chuckles. 

“Alright, well I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night at 6,” she says, drumming her fingernails on the counter one last time before shooting you a wink and leaving the bakery. 

“Don’t you want-” Your attempt to ask if she wants coffee or cake falls upon deaf ears as the door opens and she’s gone. 

You breathe a sigh of relief that she was just busy the past two days. And you’re sort of mad that you wasted those last two days not using the toys she had sent. 

But that would end tomorrow. 

Heat was already igniting in your stomach at the thought of it. You had never used a toy before and you were especially looking forward to trying the long-distance vibrator. 

The rest of your shift is pretty quiet, not too many customers either on Mondays. 

When you get back to your dorm, though, you realize that you are positively dripping. You guess your interaction with Agatha had more of an effect on you than you realize. 

You chew on your lip and your eyes keep darting back and forth between your bed and the box of toys on the floor. 

It couldn’t hurt to test one out, could it?

You grab the box with the vibrator and open it. Glancing at the instructions, you press the power button and gasp as the purple toy buzzes to life in your palm. You turn it off, heart pounding, and lay down. 

You close your eyes and remember what it was like to kiss Agatha at the Winter Wonderland the other night. Her tongue in your mouth, her sucking your lip, her hand under your shirt. You shift and hike up the skirt you were wearing and place the vibrator on your clit over your underwear. 

A whimper is forced out of your throat and your back arches off the bed. Quickly, you pull it away. 

Holy fuck. 

You’ve never felt anything so intense. 

You take a deep breath and slowly place it against you again, mind wandering to Agatha. 

Her veiny hands, her mouth, her confidence, the way she fluffs her hair. You imagine the way her fingers and tongue would feel on you. Your hips are rolling against the vibrator – that she gave you – and you’re already close. You truly cannot believe you’ve never used one before. 

You cum harder than you ever have by your own hand at the wishful thought of Agatha laughing as she holds the vibrator against you. 

It takes you a second to calm down and when you turn the toy off, you can still feel the rumbling in your hand. 

And then you reach for your phone. Just used the vibrator. You click send before you can second-guess yourself. 

Agatha’s response comes immediately after. And? 

Changed my life lol. 

She doesn’t reply for a few minutes so you go wash the toy, but when you come back, there’s a new message. 

Just wait for tomorrow night, doll. 

Heat flashes through you and you seriously consider using the vibrator again. 

But you want to wait. You can wait. 

However, the next 24 hours pass so slowly that you think time might have stopped. 

There are countless times you look at the clock, expecting an hour to have passed, only to find that it was three minutes. 

It’s like being a child on Christmas Eve again. Except instead of presents, you’re waiting to get fucked by an older woman. 

Finally, finally, she texts you that she’s on her way and to get ready (she sends a winky face, as if there’s any doubt what she means). 

You’re wearing a short lilac skirt so you bunch it up with one hand and slide your underwear to the side. You’re already wet just at the thought of seeing Agatha so you’re able to slide the bulb easily into you. It’s not too big but you can definitely feel it deep inside you. The other piece rests against your clit and you can only imagine what it will feel like when she turns it on. 

You find the bluetooth connection instructions on the instruction manual and text it to her. 

Barely a second later, she texts back Good girl. I’m about to turn into the parking lot. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

You wait until you see her car pull up before exiting the building, and as you’re walking to the car with the basket of food and a backpack with all the toys and some extra clothes, she turns it on. You almost fall to the ground. Thankfully you were holding onto the dinner tight.  

If you thought the vibrator from yesterday was intense, it’s nothing compared to the sensation of it against your clit and inside you. 

And just as quickly as the feeling came, it’s gone. You gasp and stumble hurriedly the rest of the way to the car before she can do it again. 

Agatha’s smirk is dripping with smugness. “How does it feel?” 

“Fuck,” is all you can say and she laughs. 

“Fuck, indeed. Now, where are we going?” 

You give her directions to the park. It’s in a pretty secluded area and there’s never really anyone there when it starts to get dark, so it should be empty. Even if it’s not, you’re just having a picnic. 

And just as you suspected, there’s no other cars in the lot when Agatha pulls up to park.

“What are we going here, sweetheart?” She asks, curiosity tinging her voice. She’s not judging though. You knew she wouldn’t. 

You hold up the basket. “I thought we could have a picnic?” 

She smiles. “I think that’s an excellent idea, honey.” You lead her over to a spot by the perimeter by the hand and don’t let her do anything while you shake out the blanket and take out two plates of sushi and a bottle of wine. You pour her a glass while you finish making everything perfect and she watches you amusedly while sipping on the Rosé. 

Dinner is so comfortable and filled with laughter and jokes and questions, and once you both are done with the food, you lay down on the blanket, Agatha’s arm around your shoulders and her other hand pointing out the constellations to you. 

She shows you how to always be able to find the North Star, which is in Ursa Minor, and then points out the Big Dipper, and you lose yourself in watching her point to all the stars and hearing her tell you the stories. You’re having so much fun with her and she makes you feel at peace. 

“I didn’t realize you knew so much about astronomy,” you say in awe, focusing on her face rather than what she’s showing you. She turns her head down so she’s looking at you. 

“Have you been listening or have you been staring at me the whole time?” She jokes, kissing your nose and chuckling as you scrunch it at her. 

“I’ve been listening!” 

“Oh yeah? What’s that one then?” She points at a star and as you peer at it, her finger fumbles with something and the vibrator inside of you turns on, turning your thoughts to mush. 

You had honestly forgotten that you were wearing it. 

But it’s impossible to forget now, and your fingers dig into her side and you let out a quiet moan. 

“Agatha,” you whine when it turns off. 

“What constellation is that?” She turns it on again and your hips start undulating involuntarily as you rack your brain. Your eyes frantically dart to the surrounding stars as you start whimpering. 

“Andromeda?” It’s partly a guess but you do remember her saying something about that one. You can vaguely remember the story too. Something about her mom being vain and then Andromeda being chained for a sea monster but Perseus rescues her. 

The toy turns off and you gasp for breath. Your hips are still gently riding against nothing, missing the stimulation. 

“Very good,” Agatha muses. “How are you feeling?” 

“Why don’t you feel for yourself?” You challenge but your smirk turns into a gasp when she reaches over, pushes up your skirt, and rubs your slit over your underwear. Your hips chase her fingers but she pulls away. 

You are throbbing. 

She holds her fingertips up to the lamp and you both can see them glistening. You have soaked through your panties. Before you can say anything or be too embarrassed, she sucks them into her mouth and your jaw drops. She moans at your taste and when she opens her eyes, you can barely see the blue with how blown out her pupils are. 

“Can we go?” You rasp. 

“Sure, doll,” she says and helps you pack up so the two of you can get in the car faster. You’re checking the spot one last time just to make sure you have everything when Agatha turns the vibrator on. Your knees buckle this time because of how needy you are, but she catches you. 

“Agatha,” you breathe, pleasure overtaking your body. 

“Thought you wanted to leave?” She teases innocently and you wrap your arms around her so you can try to walk because she hasn’t turned it off. 

You’ve become a moaning mess, face pressed hotly into Agatha’s neck while she basically drags you to the car. You can see goosebumps on the older woman and you can hear her breathing get heavier so you know she’s at least a little affected too. 

“Please, please, Aggie, so close,” you babble and it seems like the car is a mile away. 

“Aw, does my baby need some relief right now?” She asks, and as pathetic as it is, you nod your head eagerly. She turns it off and you’re able to stand on your own, but Agatha takes off in a different direction of the car. 

“Where are you going?” You call after her, but then you realize she’s making a beeline towards a bench. You follow in a daze, not really sure what’s going on. She sits and pats her thighs. 

“Since you’re so desperate,” she says with a smirk. You think you might cum right then and there. She spreads her legs when you get closer so you’re able to straddle one of her legs. “Grind.” 

She doesn't have to tell you twice. You wrap your arms around her neck and bury your head back into her, moving your hips experimentally. 

And then she turns the toy back on and you rip your face out of her shoulder to bite your hand before you moan loudly. 

“Fuck,” you keen, rhythm getting sloppy but she moves her hands to her waist to help you out. 

“You like this?” She pants into your ear and your resounding moan is all the answer she needs. ���You like riding my thigh in a park where anyone could walk by and see how much you need me?”

You nod frantically, every single drag against her leg pushing the vibration against your clit. It feels so delicious and you’ve been on edge all day. 

“So desperate for me, so desperate for mommy,” she whispers and her voice shakes a little on the last word, almost like she was nervous. Clearly she had nothing to be nervous about though, because your walls clench even more and you let out a loud whine. You can practically hear her smirking at you. 

“Mommy,” you gasp, moving your hips faster, chasing your high. “Need to cum, so close.” 

“Do you want to cum all over my leg right now?” She says lowly, peppering your jaw with kisses. 

“Please, please, yes, mommy,” you beg. Agatha grabs your chin and tilts it up to lean in for a kiss, but she stops a breath away from your lips. 

And then the vibrations stop. 

“No, no,” you cry, furiously grinding against her leg, trying to regain the stimulation that you just lost. It’s no use; it’s not the same. Her fingernails dig into your hip to stop your movements. 

Your head drops against her shoulder in frustration and you can feel her body shake with contained laughter.

“Why?” You ask and you’re almost ashamed of how needy you sound. Her thumb swipes your bottom lip and then brushes your sweaty hair off your forehead. 

“I’m not having the first time I make you cum be on a park bench using a vibrator,” she says matter-of-factly. “It’s going to be in my bed, with either my fingers or my mouth.” You bite your lip at the thought and your hips give another weak jump. She smirks. “After that, we’ll have all the time for toys in the world.” 

And with that, she stands you back up and pulls you to the car, intending to make good on her promise. 

[senascoop]

┊ INSECURITIES THEY ADORE . . 엔하이펜 ☁︎

pairing, enhypen × afab reader . . . genre, scenario(s) word count, 50—60 each . . . note, these are not things ‘i’ consider as insecurities but rather things that ‘most’ people do and in no way am i shaming anyone. [LIBRARY]

. , LEE HEESEUNG ☁︎ 이희승 !

SCARS / BIRTHMARKS : Heeseung never minded your scars or birthmarks. If your birthmarks were in the right spots, he'd gently kiss them, seeing them as unique to you. As for your scars, he viewed them as part of who you are—symbols of strength and resilience. To him, they only made you more beautiful, and he'd never want you to feel self-conscious about them.

. , PARK JONGSEONG ☁︎ 박종성 !

BODY HAIR : Jay really doesn’t mind body hair at all. There are moments when you mention being too busy to shave, and he’ll simply wave it off, telling you it’s not a big deal—unless it’s for a special event. After all, why feel awkward about body hair when you’re at home? He loves you just the way you are.

. , SIM JAEYUN ☁︎ 심재윤 !

WEIGHT FLUCTUATIONS : Jake wouldn’t even pay attention to any weight changes unless you pointed it out. If you ever bring up feeling too skinny or a bit chubby, he’d just smile and say, “As long as I can hold you and feel at home, you’re perfect.” He’s not hesitant to show you off to his friends because, to him, you’re beautiful just as you are.

. , PARK SUNGHOON ☁︎ 박성훈 !

THIN / THICK LIPS : Sunghoon is genuinely obsessed with your lips and his heart aches whenever you mention them being too thin or too thick. He doesn't quite understand it, but he makes it his mission to compliment them after every kiss, hoping to make you feel more secure. To him, your lips are perfect, and he treasures every kiss.

. , KIM SUNOO ☁︎ 김수누 !

ACNE / FRECKLES : Sunoo has always thought you were beautiful, acne or freckles included. While he’s happy to help with skincare, it’s not because he thinks your acne needs to disappear—he just wants you to feel your best. He genuinely doesn’t mind being seen with you just the way you are, because to him, you’re perfect.

. , YANG JUNGWON ☁︎ 양정원 !

UNEVEN SMILE / CROOKED TEETH : Jungwon loves seeing you smile or laugh, even if your smile wasn’t perfectly even or your teeth a little crooked. Whenever you tried to cover it, he’d gently push your hand away, just so he could see your genuine smile. Over time, he made you forget that it was ever an insecurity to begin with.

. , NISHIMURA RIKI ☁︎ 리키 !

SHORT HEIGHT : Niki knew people often felt insecure standing next to him because of his height, but when it came to you, his height made you feel even smaller. If reassurance didn’t help, he’d avoid standing close, not out of embarrassment, but to avoid others pointing it out. Truthfully, he didn’t care about your height—he could always scoop you up in his arms.

© senascoop | tumblr

[jjunieworld]

BODY ELECTRIC ˒˒ 투바투

❝ 𝗶 𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰, 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆 𓈓 𝗍𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌!

p ‎⸝⸝⸝ 투바투 𝑥 fem!reader ꔛ g ‎⸝⸝⸝ headcannons, video links, smut, established relationship ── dom!txt, sub!reader, mostly unprotected sex, oil / lube, various kinks (breeding & daddy kink hehe), creampies, housewife!reader / traditional gender roles, food play?, some mean & hard dom elements because i truly can’t help myself, some roleplay, probably others than i’m missing ╱ ❨ 𝓶.list ❩

✉️ ⦂ never posted twt links before but this was kinda fun lmao ^^ i might post more sometime soon. like maybe an enha (hyung line) one?? hmm… not completely sure. anyways, i hope you enjoy!!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏  ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (⌒‿⌒)♡

𓍼 ˋ✮ YEONJUN

ʬʬʬ — him fucking you so good that your cum just spills out of you. would angle you in a way that didn’t let any escape until he’s done with you and filled you up completely. he would start fucking you again just at the sight of how messy he made you, shushing you and telling you how your spent pussy could take another round. 100% has a breeding kink.

ʬʬʬ — hates your bad attitude and how he constantly has to fuck the brattiness out of you so you remember your place and who’s in charge. slaps your ass to make sure you’re listening to him and to punish you for talking back in the first place.

ʬʬʬ — like soobin i feel like he would like to use oil too! loves watching how easily his cock slides in your needy pussy and swallows it whole. also loves taking you missionary so he can see your pretty face all twisted up in pleasure!!

ʬʬʬ — idk what it is about this but it’s just so yeonjun to me?? would eat you out after to taste the slight bubblegum flavor and then would continue eating the cum-covered lollipop like he wasn’t just fucking you with it.

𓍼 ˋ✮ SOOBIN

ʬʬʬ — would beg you to dress up as his favorite anime and video game characters!! the two of you would roleplay a little before he’s fucking you and filling you up with his hot and sticky cum (>人<)

ʬʬʬ — loves seeing you in lingerie but hates the fact that it gets in his way!! it makes him too hard and he just wants to fuck the shit out of you without having to pull back straps and lace. definitely would keep on the thigh high stockings tho, it’s his favorite!

ʬʬʬ — honestly you should know to not wear short skirts around him… immediate hard-on and he’s fucking you against whatever surface is the closest to him. doesn’t even care that you were only quickly dropping by to give him something, you’re not leaving for the rest of the day.

ʬʬʬ — the type to drench you in oil so he can watch the way you glisten all prettily while getting dumb on his cock!! loves seeing your shiny tits bounce, bonus if you have nipple piercings. i feel like he would be the type to record it all so he can get off to it again later. cowgirl is for sure his favorite position for you!!

𓍼 ˋ✮ BEOMGYU

ʬʬʬ — interrupting him playing his game was a bad idea… of course he’s gonna bend you over his gaming chair and fuck you. leaves his mic on and let’s all his discord friends hear how much of a slut you are. (/ω＼)

ʬʬʬ — love love loves sitting back and having you fuck yourself on him. gets off to your pretty little moans and the sight of his cock disappearing inside you.

ʬʬʬ — cuddling with him always turns into you feeling his bulge against your ass, to him sliding his cock inside of you “i just need to feel you,” to him pulling your hips towards his so that he can fuck you. you’re constantly sticky with his cum!!

ʬʬʬ — this. definitely how most of your nights would go when you’re super horny for him. would laugh in your ear at your whines for his cock and would tell you to get yourself off on his thigh or bulge instead.

𓍼 ˋ✮ TAEHYUN

ʬʬʬ — you begging him to fuck you without the condom on,,, he’s always so careful and you just need to feel him inside you completely, feel the way his thick load fills you up and drips out of you!! you don’t want him to pull out ♡

ʬʬʬ — him teasing your needy and wet clothed pussy. just loves how wet he can get you without even sticking his cock inside of you.

ʬʬʬ — quick morning fuck before the two of you go to the gym!! you told him “just the tip…” but you both can’t control yourselves! ended up going later that morning hehe

ʬʬʬ — his little housewife (⋟﹏⋞) you let him do whatever he wants to you whenever he wants. taehyun wants you to suck up off while you’re making dinner? you’re on your knees with his cock shoved down your throat in an instant.

𓍼 ˋ✮ HUENINGKAI

ʬʬʬ — kai needing you so bad that there isn’t even enough time to put his cock in you. would completely miss the mark and end up fucking your thighs instead!! you’d go crazy from only having stimulation at your clit and not where you need him the most. would leave your thighs covered with his cum while he bends you over for more. this video as well hehe

ʬʬʬ — so needy while he’s trying to practice. his long fingers aren’t enough so now he his to fuck you with his cock too… definitely didn’t finish practicing after this >///<

ʬʬʬ — would always have you sitting on his face. watching a movie? he can eat you out like a starved man and watch the movie at the same time. always wants to be pleasing you in some type of way.

ʬʬʬ — you’d be a good girl for daddy and let him fuck your wet pussy right? so wet that kai’s big cock keeps slipping right out!! loves hearing your moans and repeatedly asks you how much you like daddy’s cock. loves how you beg him to put it back in and fuck you deeper.

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[suksatoru]

Sukuna is sure there's something wrong with you for loving him.

He's not lovable. He didn't even know how soft love could be until you came around. Sukuna is a brutally honest man, but he can't stop muttering the lie "I don't love you" against your lips even as he kisses you

He lies a lot to you, he realizes. He lies when he tells you that you mean nothing to him, he lies when his fingers dig into your skin as he reminds you you're replaceable. He lies when he says you're stupid—you have a brilliant and creative mind he adores

He thinks you'll slowly fade away like all the things in his life eventually do. He thought his love for you would slowly flitter and diminish with time and he'd stop thinking about you constantly

Unfortunately, Sukuna wasn't familiar with love. He didn't know how unpredictable it could be at times, or how it worked. It brought out parts of him he didn't even know existed.

"I was offered a job in another kingdom."

He looks down at you. You're laying on his chest right now. A single, delicate finger moving across the dark ink swirling on his skin as your face is pressed lovingly against his scarred body.

His large palm drags itself over the nape of your neck and towards the back of your head. He gently fists your hair and tilts your head upwards so you can see his scowl

"You're not going anywhere."

You smile. It makes his chest feel tight and his heart rate pick up as you slowly lift your head off of his chest, criss crossing your legs as you sit up on the bed beside him

"Who are you to tell me what to do?"

If anyone else had even dared to think the words, let alone speak them, Sukuna would've sliced their body into more pieces than they could ever count. But you're a fearless thing. While people tie toe around him, you dance around the King of Curses like you couldn't care less.

He smiles. The gesture feels odd but his lips naturally curl upwards at your remark. One of his hands lazily caress your thigh as he gently nudges the fabric of your night gown out of the way

"Who are you to try and leave? You belong here. With me." Sukuna says lowly, his voice dropping an octave as he looks at you through half lidded eyes. You can see the amusement in his eyes as his fingers wrap around your thigh, giving it a firm squeeze before you sigh

"But what if I wanted to leave? You said it yourself, I am not a priority of yours here." You press, leaning closer with a small pout on your lips as he scoffs

"I don't care." He mutters, not meeting your eyes as he looks up at the domed ceilings above him. Sukuna's room was never a place he used to enjoy being in. To him, the golden furniture and high, carved walls never made him feel anything at all

Now, in the mornings, he'd wake up to you peacefully sleeping beside him. Curled into his side, your presence had become an unshakable thing in his room. Slowly, it became a bundle of passion and love for him to exist freely in.

"Just say you're in love with me." You tease, your soft laughter slowly pulling his gaze away from the ceiling as he watched you crawl back onto his chest, pressing feather soft kisses onto his jaw

He lets out a breath through his nose, mentally preparing himself for the words that were about to leave his mouth as he puts his hands on your waist to steady himself.

"I...I do." he mumbles, more to himself as your raise your brows in surprise

"You what?"

He grits his teeth, wondering why you're making this so difficult for him. Sukuna glares at you silently, hoping you'll be able to push past his arrogant words and see the underlying message

"You know what. So shut up and go back to doing that stupid thing you were doing." He concludes, referring to when you were tracing his tattoos. You laugh louder as your eyes crinkle in amusement

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. can you try that again, your highness?" You smirk, pressing your palm flat against his pec as he scowls

Don't give in to the brat. Don't give in to the brat. Don't give in to the brat. Don't—

"I love you."

The words come out strained, almost a whisper as he stares up at the ceiling. His grip on you is tight and he absolutely refused to look down into your eyes. He knows your lips are probably parted in shock. Your silence is long as he awaits a response, suddenly questioning if he'd said the right thing—

Both of your hands grab hold of his cheeks, slowly turning his face towards yours as one of his arms instinctively reaches out to pull you closer

Your voice is soft, but the warmth and relief that spreads through his chest is a welcomed sensation

"I love you too."

[dollishsz]

BATBOYS JEALOUSY HCS ── .✦

a/n: I just ate which like now my stomach hurts because I ate this spicy burger (10/10) and my stomach is hurting so let’s hope i don’t die from a burger😭 also request from anon (here) tysm!

(Tags: batboys when jealous of crush!reader)

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Internally Brooding, Externally Stoic: Bruce keeps a calm, composed exterior, but inside? Full-on brooding mode. He watches every move, his jaw clenching just slightly whenever the other guy laughs a little too much.

Passive-Aggressive Moves: Bruce subtly but effectively tries to interrupt. Maybe he’ll walk by and offer you something he never does, like coffee or water, just to make his presence known. “You looked thirsty,” he’ll say, while the guy looks confused.

Petty Rich Guy Move: He’ll ‘accidentally’ mention something about Wayne Enterprises, as if to remind everyone just how wealthy and powerful he is. “Funny, we were discussing corporate acquisitions the other day,” he’ll drop casually, as if it relates. (Let’s hope he doesn’t drain his bank 😞🙏)

The Comedy: When Alfred catches him glaring, he’ll dryly say, “Master Wayne, perhaps you should try blinking before you permanently furrow your brow.” Bruce will immediately deny he’s bothered, even as he side-eyes you again.

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Charm Dial Up to 100: Dick doesn’t even try to hide his jealousy. He’ll swoop into the conversation, throwing in his most dazzling smile. “Hey, I didn’t realize we were letting random guys have all the fun,” he’ll say with a teasing grin, while subtly nudging the guy aside.

Over-the-Top Compliments: He’ll suddenly become your biggest hype-man. “You know, she’s literally the smartest, funniest, and most beautiful person in the room, right? No offense to you, man.” The other guy feels awkward, and you just laugh while Dick grins smugly.

Puppy Dog Eyes: If you keep talking to the other guy, Dick’s smile might falter just a little, and he’ll stand in the background, clearly pouting. It’s so obvious that even you can’t help but laugh.

The Comedy: He’ll mutter, “Didn’t even know jealousy could feel this personal,” under his breath while side-eyeing the guy like it’s a soap opera.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Grumpy But Trying to Play it Cool: Jason’s jealousy is obvious in how stiff and silent he gets. He leans against the nearest wall, arms crossed, glaring like the other guy just insulted his whole family.

Blunt Interruptions: He doesn’t have the patience to be subtle. He’ll walk up and ask, “So, who’s this?” in the least friendly tone possible, with a fake smile that could curdle milk.

Accidental Intimidation: Jason’s sheer presence is intimidating, so the poor guy talking to you will probably start feeling uncomfortable as Jason looms over, cracking his knuckles or adjusting his jacket dramatically.

The Comedy: If you don’t notice, Jason will mutter sarcastically, “Oh sure, talk to Captain Chit-Chat over there. Not like I’m standing right here or anything.” Roy, nearby, might add, “Jason, you’re doing that ‘death stare’ thing again,” and Jason will growl, “I’m not jealous.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Awkward and Overthinking Everything: Tim doesn’t get jealous often, but when he does, it’s a mess. He watches from a distance, wringing his hands, thinking, Should I interrupt? Maybe she likes him? Maybe I’m reading too much into it…

Accidental Sulking: He tries to focus on something else, but his mind keeps wandering. He sits down nearby, pretending to work on his laptop, typing nonsense just so he can stay close without being obvious. “Haha, yeah…no big deal…” deletes everything he just typed.

Passive Observing: Tim eventually tries to casually stroll by, acting like he just happened to be there. “Oh, hey… didn’t see you there. Weird, right?” He’s so awkward it’s endearing.

The Comedy: If Kon or Bart sees him sulking, they’ll tease him mercilessly. “Dude, go talk to her.” Tim panics, “I can’t. She’s busy… laughing… with him…” Kon: “You’re hopeless.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Silent Judgment Mode: Damian watches with narrowed eyes, judging every aspect of the guy talking to you. He might even mutter things under his breath like, “He stands like a fool,” or “He can’t even articulate properly.”

Direct Interruption: Damian doesn’t have time for subtlety. He’ll walk up and flatly say, “Are you finished with this conversation? It’s becoming unbearable.” The other guy is usually too shocked to respond.

Unintentional Comedy: He’ll start critiquing the guy’s conversation topics. “She doesn’t care about your opinions on sports,” he’ll state matter-of-factly, as you try not to laugh.

The Comedy: If you ask if he’s jealous, he’ll scoff. “Jealous? Of that imbecile? Hardly.” But the tips of his ears are turning red, and you know he’s lying.

[hanasnx]

WHAT YOUR CAMERA ROLL LOOKS LIKE DATING… — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: personal face claims ノ arm kink ノ sexual content ノ established relationship ノ fem reader ノ squirting ノ nudes mention.

CLARK KENT is still a little hesitant to show his face in photos. It’s not the same if you two are taking a picture together, he’s always happy to be in one with you… but selfies seem to be a foreign concept to him. He tries for your sake because he knows you screenshot and save them, so he puts in some effort. Even though he’s cuffed you, he still wants to look nice for you.

You’ve taught him a lot about taking pictures, always insisting that you want to see him, implying parts of him that he never thought he’d show a camera. Nudes might be off the table, but you’ve gotten him to cross the line of showing off his body. He tries to hide it, but he’s got a six pack worth bragging about. Chiseled and tall, he’s a regular Adonis, and he always laughs when you make the same joke about “riding your phone” after he sends a message with his shirt off. It’s hard to boast it proudly with a full shirtless image, but he covers up just enough to keep you wanting more.

If he’s out on the go, hand pics are the norm. He won’t deny it, he knows you like them. You decorate them with bracelets you buy for him, and massage his hands, wrists, and arms as often as you can. You tell him you’ve got a fixation. You suck on his fingers, and you always ask him to show you how he curls his knuckles when they’re inside of you, stroking your guts until you come undone and squirt pours down his veins… and sometimes when you’re in a special mood, you ask him to flex and rub whatever he can shove between your legs even if that means cumming all over his swollen bicep. He might get a little sheepish taking a picture of his arm so nonchalantly knowing what you’ve done to it, and what you might be thinking being reminded of it. It’s deceptive, maybe, but he won’t lie and say he’s hoping you’re in need of a little friction when he sees you next.

[moonchildstyles]

fig

pomegrante part two: y/n finally convinces harry to go out with her and her friends, but the night really starts when they make it home

wordcount: 9.2k+

—————

"What's for dinner tonight?" 

(Y/N) peeked over Harry's shoulder, her hands landing on his back to keep her steady. There was a whole empty stretch of counter she could have stationed herself, where a well enough view would have shown her what he was doing at the stove, and yet she chose the option to put her hands on him and let him breathe in the bouquet of her scent. 

His lungs squeezed on instinct. 

"Jus'—uh—some macaroni and cheese. Thought it would be easy and all," he murmured, attempting to keep his voice even and mind from wandering. 

It had been a week since the drunken night in his bedroom had turned into the morning spent between his sheets, and yet Harry wasn't sure he'd ever actually recovered. Every now and again, when a particularly vivid memory of her hand fisted around him came to the forefront of his mind, he was out of commission for a few moments, something akin to an aftershock racing up his spine. 

(Y/N) definitely wasn't making it any easier to move past the intimate moment with the way she seemed to have completely forgone any kind of barrier that had previously kept her from being touchy-feely with him. It was moments like this—with her hands on his back in the middle of the kitchen—that had plagued him and kept him stuck on the week prior. 

Most mornings now included a lingering hug goodbye with a kiss to his cheek. The days where he beat her home, she would make a point to come and say hello to him once she'd returned from her own work day. Cuddling on the couch during a show or movie, was something that no longer required any build up; from the moment they sat down, she was at his side with her shoulder bumping his and knee skimming the cuff of his own with every shift of her form. 

Tonight, she held no hesitation before she was draping herself over his form, the warmth of her body sinking into him. Instinctively, he wanted to melt and relax, allow his bones to go malleable so that he could wrap around her the way he wanted. At the same moment, his spine went stiff, keeping him at attention as he was unwilling to miss even a single brush of her fingers. 

"That sounds good, H," she smiled, decidedly much more at ease than her counterpart, "Do you want any help?" 

"No, I've got it," he swallowed, curling his mouth into a smile as he turned his face to find her gaze already trained right on him, "Thank you, though." 

"Okay," she sighed, dropping down from her tip toes and edging out towards the living room, "I guess I can just watch our show then."

He laughed at her exaggerated show, playing along as if she were the one doing the hard work for the night. "I hope y'can manage." 

"We'll see" she sang just before sweeping out of the space and taking the butterflies in Harry's stomach along with her. 

His chest deflated as a deep breath left his lungs. It was embarrassing to admit that, from just the smallest moment, his cock had stirred for no other reason than the fact that it was (Y/N) that had touched him. There was a part of him that figured that after that night in his bed, that he would have been freed from that lingering kind of desire; that he would have gotten everything out of his system and would have been able to move on as only her friend, but everything appeared to only have intensified. 

That's why every touch and every moment seemed to make a larger mark on him. More often than not, he was transported right back to his sheets, (Y/N) tucked to his side and his chest heaving. He knew what she felt like—the touch of her hands, the heat of her skin, the pump of her heart—and he wasn't going to be able to easily forget that. 

A furrow appeared in his brow as he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He needed to finish making dinner, and then he would worry about (Y/N) and what it meant that he couldn't look at her now without a rosy glow glossing over his vision. 

—————

Scratching his head, Harry stared at his laptop screen. A spreadsheet illuminated his face. 

While he loved his project team and enjoyed his department colleagues, there were times—just like this one—that made him wonder if he was going to be driven mad on their account. The equations and rules posted in each of these cells made little to no sense, he couldn't fathom why Tylor would think this was good enough to pass along an—

"Boo!" 

A fumbled curse fell from Harry's mouth as he practically jumped out of his skin. Snapping his head to look over his shoulder as he roughly pulled his headphones off of his head, he saw (Y/N) giving him a goofy grin, biting back a laugh. 

Harry let out a heavy sigh, his heart rate settling back to normal. 

"Did I get you?" she giggled, her hands still on his shoulder though now her grip turned into a massaging roll. 

"Yeah," he laughed, sagging in his chair, " Y'scared the shit out of me." 

Her laughter only bubbled brighter. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself." 

"'S alright." He shook his head as his eyes followed (Y/N) as she fell back to sit on his bed, "You're home early." 

"Yeah," she sang, propping herself up with a hand behind her on his mattress, "My supervisor let me go early since I finished all of my reports yesterday." 

"That's nice," he smiled, making a point not to focus on the fact that seeing her in his bed elicited a much different reaction than it used to. "What are y'gonna do with all of your extra free time?" 

Something sparkled in her eyes then, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth though she made an effort to keep it from stretching wide. "That's what I came to talk to you about actually." 

"Yeah?" A flush crept up the base of his throat.

"Yeah," she chirped, "I talked to Rue and Kim, and I think we might go out tonight. They're bringing a couple of friends and I think Kim is asking her roommate to come too." 

"That'll be fun," Harry encouraged, pretending everything that happened after her last girls night didn't happen. "Y'gonna be here for dinner then, or do y'want me to save the leftovers for tomorrow?"

"Actually," she started, canting her head with a blink of her eyes, "I was wondering if you might want to come with me tonight." 

Harry's mouth suddenly ran dry. (Y/N) had talked about him joining her and her friends on a night out many different times, but he never gave it much thought. He was never one for big parties or crowded clubs, even during his university days. He was sure (Y/N) knew as much. 

He fumbled for an answer—a kind way to decline her invitation once more—, though (Y/N) seemingly met him halfway and cut him off. 

"I know you don't usually like going out like this," she started, eyes turning pleading, "But, I really, really think you'd have a good time. The bars we pick are fun, I mean it." He watched as her expression shifted, a glint passing through her eyes though her smile turned coy. "And you could meet someone, you know." 

That was the first illusion to any facet of the conversation that had taken place in his bedroom that week and a half ago. She wanted him to meet someone, still? 

While Harry had been well aware that what had transpired wasn't going to, and didn't change a single thing between them, she also hadn't again brought up the idea of setting him up. He had figured that now that she knew his secret, that she understood why he wasn't looking to find a random person in a bar, or be set up through anyone. 

(And, maybe there was the smallest, most minuscule part of him that hoped that, maybe, she was no longer interested in seeing him with someone else anymore. That, maybe she had found the same book he had pulled, and was working herself to the same page. A futile hope, he supposed). 

"I don't know, (Y/N)," he sighed, bringing his knuckle up to brush the tip of his nose, "I've still got a lot I need to get done today." 

He dared to match her gaze from where his eyes had skated over her shoulder. Her glittery, pretty, clear eyes didn't shy away from him. Her lashes flared when she blinked at him, a small gape to her lips. 

"Please, H," she murmured, a small curl touching the corner of her mouth, "You're really going to make me beg—just for a couple of hours of your time?" 

Harry swallowed, making a point to drop his gaze from hers. Beg? She was going to beg for him? 

Why would she say that? Was she trying to make him fall to the floor? Light on fire? 

A warm flush crept up his neck. "Beg?" he choked out.

"I will if you really want me to," she offered, amusement in her voice though Harry wasn't finding the joke.

"No, no, 's alright," he rushed out, sparing himself and his briefs the trouble, "Y'really want me to go?" 

"Of course, I do!" Harry hadn't realized how the air had stilled, or the way her voice had dropped until she suddenly perked up. The cheer now injected in her tone was a stark difference to whatever it was that had been between them just a moment before. "I promise you'd have so much fun; if anything we'll get to have a night out for the first time in forever." 

Truthfully, did he really think he was going to be able to say no? Especially when she sat so prettily on his bed and was willing to beg for him. 

He took in a deep breath, as if he were taking on a heavy burden before he looked to (Y/N) with thinned lips. "Okay."

It was the joy and excitement that lit her up that had Harry feeling certain in his decision. He'd never had a chance. 

"Harry, really?! I'm so excited!" She popped up from his bed only to hug him as best she could while he was still stationed in his desk chair. 

He only hesitated for a moment, his limbs stiff for a breath before he succumbed to the warmth. Feeling the strands of hair on the crown of her head tickling the tip of his nose strung memories back to the front of his mind, the kind that had his heart plunging against his ribs just as she pulled away. 

"I'm going to tell everyone, and I'll let you know what time and everything." Her chattering voice filled his room even as she began towards his door. "We should probably eat before we go out, but I'll let you know what we figure out." She paused in the threshold. "Are you excited?" 

The way she was looking at him, grin wide and eyes bright, he was only able to answer honestly. "Very excited."

With one more grin over her shoulder, she disappeared out of view. 

Harry had his eyes fixed to the door frame for a lingering moment. His lungs expanded at full capacity for the first time since she had barged in, his heart beginning to even out. He blinked as he attempted to get back to work, urging himself to focus on something familiar before he was going to have to deal with the deal he made for the night. 

When she was sitting in front of him, the perspective of a smoky bar with her sounded fun and exciting. Now he was alone with the reality of a sticky, overpriced bar being his plans for the night, he could only hope that his original excitement prevailed. 

—————

(Y/N) had her hand wrapped around Harry's wrist as she led them through the congested line in front of the bartop. He couldn't help but to mumble his sorrys and excuse mes despite knowing not a single person was listening. Holding up the rear, Harry could see ahead to where Rue and her roommate lead the charge, followed by Kim, and her boyfriend, along with Cora and her brother. The usual suspects in (Y/N)'s life; some he met back when they were both in university, others she met through work. 

Meeting up outside of the bar didn't leave much room for small talk and catching up before they were herded inside, but it was long enough for Harry to see the surprise that crossed Rue and Kim's faces. They hadn't believed that he was really going to show up tonight. And, he couldn't blame them, even if it did make him feel a bit sheepish; he hoped none of them had an ill opinion of him because of that. 

The so-called bar that had been chosen for the night was verging on a night club with the way the music was pounding loud through the room. There wasn't a designated spot for dancing , but it appeared the space had been made with the way there were few tables in the room aside from the bartop and the booths lining the room. The empty space before the DJ became the dancefloor, their warm bodies swaying and moving together. Other than strobing party lights, the bar was left in the dark. 

Rue, thanks to a connection with one of the bouncers and a bartender, was able to sweep them through the congestion in the bar to find an empty booth in the back. It was secluded, behind the large speakers of the DJ. Harry was sure he was going to have a ringing in his ears for the rest of the weekend after this, but it was a preferable spot compared to just standing around while others pushed around. 

"This good?!" Rue shouted to the line behind her (or at least Harry figured she shouted, he was just making do with reading her lips). 

It only took a few nodding heads before the group took over the vinyl seating. (Y/N) kept him close, pulling him to sit on the end of the curving booth beside her. She grinned up at him, her teeth splashed in flickers of blue and magenta thanks to the lights above. 

"What do you think!?" she bubbled, close enough that Harry could just hear the octaves of her voice. 

"'S a lot," he answered, ducking down to hover his lips by her ear, "A little sticky." 

She laughed at his words. "Yeah, I never wear cute shoes here. Thank you for coming, though." 

The way she smiled at him made up for the sweat already beginning to slick the back of his head, and the way the soles of his shoes may never be the same after this. When she looked up at him with eyes sparkling, grin wide, he wondered why he'd never said yes to a night like this before. 

"(Y/N)!" 

Whipping their heads to look across the table, Cora's brother, Colin had his gaze on (Y/N). The planes of his face were highlighted under the beams of strobing light, long shadows cast by the length of his lashes and the point of his chin. Harry knew Colin was a good looking man, and maybe that was why he felt a pinch of jealousy sting the middle of his chest. Especially when he smiled at (Y/N) like that; Harry wondered if that was what he looked like when he gazed at her too. 

"I'm going to the bar, what do you want?" 

She rattled off a simple order, something fruity and sweet that he knew was her favorite. As soon as she finished though, she looked at Harry, brows raised in question. "What do you want?" 

Flicking his eyes to Colin, Harry saw the way his lips thinned. Maybe it was because (Y/N)'s attention was spread elsewhere. Or, it could just be the way his face looked, Harry reminded himself.

Nonetheless, Harry met Colin's eyes across the table and shared his own order. "Thank you," he smiled, even if Colin didn't give more than a nod of acknowledgment. 

He and Cora excused themselves a moment later, heading back into the throes of patrons towards the bar. 

Harry didn't want to, but he had a feeling he was going to be keeping an eye on him through the night. 

At his side, (Y/N) bumped him to grab his attention. "You're going to dance with me tonight, right?" 

A smile crept onto the corners of his mouth. "I don't know, (Y/N)," he drawled, "Are y'sure you're ready for everyone to know 'm a better dancer than you?" 

She let out a peal of laughter, bright and tinkling compared to the heavy bass rattling through his bones. "I guess I'll have to manage," she teased, both of them knowing the truth about his coordination, "I promise I'll get out of your way when people start cutting in to take my place with you." 

Harry played along, graciously accepting her offer. "I think that's best for the both of us." With a moment's hesitation, he gently laid his hand on her knee. While (Y/N) didn't even blink at the contact, Harry could feel his heart rate jumping as if he wasn't the one who had made the first move. 

Especially when she threw her head back laughing and leaned right into his touch, angling her body just so, he questioned if there were any others in the room. 

As if Harry would accept anyone else's hand tonight. 

—————

Bringing the small black straw to her pursed lips, (Y/N) bit back her laughter as she saw Harry move horrendously so to the music pumping around them. Tonight's game apparently was going to be one where they threw out the worst moves they could, leaving the other to replicate them and make them that much more uncoordinated. It wasn't the right game to play if they were attempting to catch anyone's eye, but that was far from Harry's mind at the moment. All he wanted was to keep (Y/N) having fun. 

Rue, Kim, and the others weren't very far away with Colin and Kim's boyfriend having taken to staying in the booth to stake claim of the space. It wasn't hard to catch Colin looking (Y/N)'s way more than once. Even if he didn't seem particularly happy with the fact she had been sticking with Harry through most of the night, Colin hadn't tried anything more than watching on with a slight pinch to his features. 

Just as (Y/N) was going to match his move and add on something extra ridiculous, her eyes lit up, flicking over his shoulder. Spitting the chewed up straw from her mouth, she crossed the few steps between them with a giddy smile. She gestured him to lean down for her, leaving his ear level with her mouth. 

"There's a girl behind you that's been looking at you! I just saw her say something to one of her friends and point at you," (Y/N) bubbled, almost stumbling over her words, "I think she's going to come over here!" 

Harry wanted to match her excitement. He wanted to look at her smile and offer up his own. But there was nothing about this revelation that made him as excited as she wanted him to be. Was it nice to be admired, and have someone know nothing about him and still want to get to know him just from one look? Sure.

But, if that person wasn't (Y/N), he didn't have much interest. 

"I can leave if you want," she rattled on, "So she doesn't feel weird coming over here!" 

"No, no," Harry immediately fired off, "'S alright. I want to keep dancing with you." 

It was a simple admission, one that could be easily shared between friends, but felt loaded falling from his tongue. 

"But, H," (Y/N) countered, "This is the best time to meet new people! It might be fun to have someone other than me hanging around, don't you think?" 

Immediately, Harry wanted to say no. It wouldn't be very fun in his opinion, to retrace all of his vulnerabilities and secrets to be shared with someone else when (Y/N) was right there. She already knew any and everything there was to know about him, he didn't need to share any more. 

His silence was taken the wrong way by (Y/N). A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. "If you're still nervous about what you told me, I promise you'll be fine. Don't let it stop you from meeting a nice girl." She paused for a moment, Harry's throat bobbing as he swallowed around his dry tongue. "I can still help you with all of... that, anyway. If that makes you feel better." 

Suddenly, he could feel the heavy beat of his heart as it matched the bass of the music pouring from the speakers. What kind of twisted pep talk; one where she was encouraging him to meet other women and to not hold back due to his lack of prowess, while also offering to help him get some of those firsts off of his plate. 

He took in a heavy breath, grateful that he could still glean notes of her perfume over the rest of the sticky, smoky scent that filled the bar. "Yeah?" he breathed, already getting much too wrapped up in the implications of her offer. 

"Of course," she bubbled, entirely too bright for where his mind was going, "You don't have to worry about things like that. If any girl is worth your time, she'd never feel any kind of way about that part of you." 

Harry gave a slight shake of his head. "No—um—I mean... Y'really mean y'still want to help me?" 

(Y/N) reared back just enough to catch his eye, her half finished drink left to the wayside as she chewed on her bottom lip instead. "Of course." 

It verged on embarrassing how just those two innocuous words were able to cause a stirring in his stomach, his pants needing an adjustment. 

Before he had a chance to say anything in response, Harry felt a hand settle on his arm. (Y/N)'s expression loosened, her eyes widening when she saw whoever was behind him. She didn't say anything before she urged him with her hand on his shoulder to turn around, a bounce of her brows. 

Forcing himself to turn over his shoulder, Harry found a pretty girl with lengthy brown hair and honey eyes looking up at him. Her skin was powdered and highlighted to perfection, her lips a juicy pink with blush to match. Her lashes flared around her eyes, like a cat's eye. 

"Hi," she smiled, bouncing on the tips of her toes, "Sorry if I'm interrupting. I hope this isn't weird, but you're just really cute; my friends have been telling me to come and talk to you since we came in." 

Harry wanted so badly to feel flattered. He wanted to feel a flush go up his cheeks and warm his already glistening skin. But, he just didn't. 

All he felt was reluctance when (Y/N) excused herself, muttering that she was going back to the table. 

"Um," Harry fumbled, forcing a dimpled smile onto his cheeks, "Thank you. I think you're cute, too." 

It was true, the compliment. Though that was where it stopped. She was a pretty girl, but not the one he wanted. 

She let out a sweet giggle, her drink sloshing in hand. "Do you want to dance?" 

He couldn't help but to cut a look over his shoulder, finding (Y/N) sitting with Colin and Rue's roommate. An encouraging smile beamed from her features. 

He swallowed thickly. She wanted him to take this girl up on her offer. 

Honestly, he would have, if not for that smile on her face. As pretty as this girl was, she wasn't ever going to have the same creased by her eyes, the same crinkle to her nose, the same grin on her face. She wasn't the one that he saw himself readily watching reality dating shows with. She wasn't the one he wanted to end his night with. Not when (Y/N) was right there; not when she was the one he trusted the most.

"Actually," Harry started, morphing his features into an apology before the actual words even left his mouth, "I came here for a friend's birthday tonight; not really trying to meet anyone tonight." 

The lie came out less than smooth, but it appeared that was all the explanation the girl required.

Her lips formed an O as she gazed up at him. "I see, no worries," she bubbled off, shaking her head, "I totally get it! Maybe I could give you my number or something? So next time you go out, you can just text me if you want to meet up." 

Harry felt terribly guilty the more sweet and understanding she was. Rejection had never been and would never be his strong suit. And he wasn't going to be able to hone his skills tonight. 

"Sure," he choked out, already unlocking his phone to be passed along to her hands. 

She happily tapped away at his screen as she added her number to his contacts, a winking emoji stamped at the end of her name (Viola, he learned). 

"Have a fun night!" she beamed at him before leaving to rejoin her friends. 

Following suit, Harry pretended he didn't feel any eyes on him as he retreated towards (Y/N) in the booth. It was then that he caught the wolfish smile on Colin's face dissipate when he realized Harry was on his way back. 

"What happened?" (Y/N) chirped, throwing a glance around him towards the woman he retreated from. 

Harry shrugged, sliding into the booth at her side. "She and her friends are leaving soon. She gave me her number." 

(Y/N) clasped her hands in a giddy clap. "No way! She so likes you, H! I'm so happy for you!" 

It was cute, the way she bubbled his praises, as if he'd done anything at all to warrant the approach from Viola. 

"When are you going to text her?" She leaned towards him (and away from Colin) with a conspiratorial smile.

Once again, Harry lifted his shoulders in a shrug. He dropped his gaze from hers, hoping she wouldn't press for more explanation when he answered, "Not sure yet." 

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, drooping some, "Well, wh—" 

Just then, thankfully so, Kim approached the table with clear eyes, her boyfriend draped around her with his own gaze looking much less coherent. "Hey, I think I'm going to take him home," she shouted to (Y/N) over the music, "Do you want to ride with us, or are you going to stay? I think Rue and Cora are planning on staying until last call." 

(Y/N) immediately looked towards Harry, brows raised in question. "Are you ready to go home? Or did you want to stay?" 

He gave a small cant of his head, warmed by the attention she gave him. "'M alright with whatever y'want to do." 

Before he even finished speaking, (Y/N) shook her head with a roll of her eyes. "No, H. What do you want to do?" 

Rolling his lips between his teeth, Harry didn't stand a chance before his mind wandered right back to the offer she made to him on the dance floor. He... Well, he would never assume that (Y/N) would drop and follow through right away, though there was a higher chance if they weren't in public. 

"I could be ready to go home, if you are." 

(Y/N)'s features softened into a smile. "Okay," she said just before turning to Kim, "We'll go home with you, if that's alright." 

It was her turn to drop a hand on his knee, a slight squeeze of her fingers around the cuff. That was all it took to have his stomach tightening and heart choking his throat. 

Harry wondered if he would always be this easy, or if it was just (Y/N). 

Hopefully, going home early would help him find out.

—————

Harry waved one last time to Kim and her boyfriend before they drove off. Behind him, on the small tiled space just past the threshold, (Y/N) struggled with her teetering heels. 

"Are y'alright?" he murmured as he closed the door, the lock clicking into place a moment later. 

"Kinda," she sighed, "Hold on." Just as he turned to face her, (Y/N) placed her hand on his abdomen. Her fingers pressed through the material of his top just over the ridges of muscles lining his torso, steadying herself as she carefully attempted to shuck her shoes off. 

His lungs stunted, his eyes dropping to where she was just short of kneeling in front of him. The last time she touched him so low on his stomach was when he had guided her palm down his abdomen before she had taken his cock in her fist. The memory had his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. 

"Sorry," she muttered, looking up at him through the fan of her lashes, a curtain of her hair hanging over her features, "I didn't want to sit on the floor—I don't think I would have gotten up." 

He knew he was supposed to laugh along, especially when she let out a breathy laugh as she was finally able to kick off her shoes. Kicking her shoes to the side, she gave a chummy pat to his stomach before she rose to her full height. When she met his gaze, her demeanor was decidedly brighter and lighter than the direction his thoughts had taken. 

"What's wrong?" she immediately chirped, her brows slanting as she gazed up at him. 

Harry forced himself back into the moment, blinking back into the middle of his home. "Um," he coughed, turning away from her prying eyes, "Nothing—sorry, I zoned out." 

"Are you sure?" (Y/N) pressed, canting her head. Her eyes fell from his face and down the line of his neck. "Do you feel hot? You're turning red, H." 

A streak of guilt trickled through his system. She was genuinely concerned for him while he was a moment away from allowing himself to imagine if she had actually dropped to her knees in front of him and made good on the offer she extended only hours prior. 

Shaking his head, he tried his best to fight off the natural reactions his body gave when it came to his roommate. "'M alright, really. Jus' a little tired, I think." 

(Y/N) initially seemed to buy his excuse, but in that same moment, he saw something flash across her gaze. Her concerned features shifted until there was a sly smile on her lips, brows bouncing above her accusing eyes. 

"Ohhh, I see," she sang as she all but bounced on her toes, "You want to go talk to your new girlfriend." 

His eyes widened at her accusation. What map had she used to get to that destination? 

"Th-That's not—'M not—"

"It's alright, I get it," she teased, putting her hands up as if in surrender, "I'll let you get to bed. Just let me know if you need any help deciphering what the amount of i's in her Hi mean, or if the exclamation points mean she's flirting or just happy." 

Harry swallowed, shaking his head. "'M not—I don't... She was nice, but I don't think 'm going to text her." 

"And, that's alright!" she bubbled, realizing he wasn't planning on playing into her chiding, "I was only teasing. At least you put yourself out there, that's all that matters." 

A short smile touched the corners of his lips. He wasn't very interested in putting himself out there when what he wanted was right here at home. "Thanks," he mumbled nonetheless. 

Her expression grew gentle then, the look of a best friend who wanted to know what was going on in her companion's head. No more teasing was going on as far as he could see. "Why are you all flustered then? You didn't drink much tonight, but it's okay if you're feeling sick." 

"No, I—" he cut himself off before he stumbled into revealing the truth. "'S nothing." 

(Y/N) was skeptical, that much was obvious on her face. "Harry." 

"(Y/N), 'm fine." 

She canted her head, looking up at him through fanned lashes. "Harry." 

"(Y/N)." 

"Harry, there's no way anything you're thinking can be that bad, that you can't even tell me." 

There was something in the lilt of her voice, the way she so innocently pushed to know more about him in that moment. Harry wasn't sure what exactly it was, but there wasn't much fight left but the time she finished speaking. 

Truly, once again, he'd laid bare each and every of his secrets and most embarrassing moments before her. What was one more? 

For a split second, he thought back into that crowded bar. 

I can still help you with all of... that, anyway. 

He could still feel the fan of her breath tickling across his neck. He saw the way her lashes fluttered as she looked up at him with clear eyes. He saw the sincerity in her irises—both just before in the bar, as well as when she was wrapped up in his sheets. 

All of this because he had the breath taken away from him when he saw her almost kneel in front of him when taking off her shoes. 

"H—" 

"I was thinking about you," he rushed out, unintentionally cutting her off, "And, the—uh—thing y'said at the bar. About... helping me." 

A look of confusion struck her expression before she seemingly caught up. Her eyes brightened, a near imperceptible drop of her gaze down his form before she returned to his face. 

"Oh. Are you... right now?"

 They both knew the answer to her question. The suspicion only confirmed when he didn't offer any response. 

Her socked feet shifted over the carpet, the front door still only mere feet away. A small reminder that he'd not even fully made it into his home before he was taken by the sight of her alone. 

"You want... me?" 

The genuine curiosity in her tone was enough to have Harry's insides beginning to roil. Of course, he wanted her; she was the only person he can remember wanting enough to act this vulnerable. 

"Um, yeah," he answered, tongue fumbling over the words, "By the door, you were... almost on your knees." 

Peeking at her, Harry gauged her reaction to his admission. 

He watched as she blinked, lashes fluttering. Her eyes dropped down from his eyes, skipping to his pelvis. Harry didn't have to follow her gaze to know that she was seeing the slight semi he was sporting through his trousers. 

"Really?" she chirped, looking up at him through her wispy lashes. 

Harry shrugged, only a single corner of his lips daring to give a slight curl. "Back at the bar," he started, "Y'said... y'still wanted to help, so." 

He didn't need to say more, not when a light entered (Y/N)'s gaze. She tilted her head as she looked up at him. A sweet smile bloomed over her lips.

"And you've just been thinking about that?" 

His smile turned sheepish. He didn't think this was the time to really detail just how often she was on his mind.

A sparkling laugh fell from her lips then. "C'mon then, H," she bubbled, taking his hand in hers.

Something akin to a daze fell over his body. Harry didn't feel a single breath of hesitation as he followed (Y/N) from the front door. All he did was follow her steps to their sofa, his eyes unabashedly landing on her backside and the way her skirt hugged her hips. 

"You said you liked me on my knees, right?" 

Harry didn't think before he was humming a confirmation. 

"Then I have an idea for something new tonight." 

It was then that she dragged him to sit down on the sofa. Harry blinked, unsure of what to do with his hands before (Y/N) took her spot before him. On her knees. 

His heart was reeled right up to his throat. She wasn't... 

With her knees cushioned by their plush area rug (one she bought into the equation when she moved in), she scooted towards him. Her skirt rolled up over the smooth skin of her thighs, revealing more and more of her, parts that Harry couldn't help but to imagine gripping and squeezing in the heat of the moment. 

"Is this okay?" she asked, so sweet and kind. Her hands landed on the cuffs of his knees. 

"Um," Harry started, his mouth incredibly dry as it fell into a gape as he gazed down at her, "Yeah—Yes. Really okay." 

The smile on her lips was so pretty. It wasn't fair that she would just look like that, not when she was working her hands up his thighs. 

"You're funny, H." 

He wanted to respond, really. But then she started undoing the fastenings of his trousers. He could do nothing other than watch her manicured fingers unbutton the waist and pull down the zipper. His cock stirred even just from the slight brushes of her hands. 

Goosebumps erupted on his skin when she started pulling down his pants. Harry could feel her eyes on him when he lifted his hips to help her along, the kind of warm feeling that had his spine stringing up straight. 

The warmth was no doubt becoming visible on his skin, a flush creeping up from the base of his throat to the apples of his cheeks. His lips were parted, breaths coming out in quiet puffs as (Y/N)'s deft fingers crept up his thighs. The inky tiger tattooed on the meat of his leg was delicately traced with the tip of her fingernail. His cock jumped. 

"You said you've never done anything before?" she pressed, her voice drawing him in as if he weren't already hooked. 

Harry swallowed, his throat bobbing. "Other than what we've done, yeah." 

"Okay," she sounded, her fingers now creeping under the hem of his briefs, "We'll figure out what you like then. If I do something that feels good, just tell me and I'll keep doing it." 

She said it so simply, as if they weren't talking about what he was going to feel when she put him in her mouth. The feel of her touch under the legs of his briefs was enough to have his toes curling in his shoes, his hands reaching for the fallen throw blanket behind him. 

Had it really only been a week or so since they were holed up in his bedroom? His body reacted to her like he was starved, hungering for even a brush of her hand over his bare skin. Had he really thought that having her once was going to be enough to get her out of his system? Had he thought that just one touch was going to be enough? 

Harry practically sunk into the sofa when she pulled one of her hands from the leg of his underwear and instead brushed over the bulge of his cock. He felt the press of her hand over his length, the ridge of his head pressing into her palm. The catch of her nails over his thigh as she scratched down over his tattoo was felt through his body, his bottom lip being caught between his teeth.

He was only slightly aware of her eyes skipping up to land on his face while his own were trained on her hand palming his length through his boxers. The material began to stretch further as he stiffened against her touch, the cut at the front of his underwear pulling open.

When the first blurt of precum stained the front, Harry felt more of that heat creep up his skin. 

"Sorry," he murmured, already anticipating the mess that he was going to have to clean up tonight. 

"Why?" she asked, so easily with her eyes peeking up at him. 

So badly did Harry want to answer her, but she also decided to hook her fingers underneath the waist of his underwear in that same moment the question was posed. His mind went momentarily blank. All he could process was the catch of her nails over his hip bones, the drag of the material over his sensitized length, the fact that it was (Y/N).

Her question was lost when they both turned to focus on his cock as it bobbed free of the confines of his boxers. The head was already ruddy, veins roping around the length. Thank god he had just trimmed up down there before going out. 

"Okay?"

Blinking back to the world, Harry looked to (Y/N) with a gape to his lips. "Huh?" 

Her smile was too pretty to be fair. Especially not when she was seemingly bracing herself from her spot on her knees between his legs. "You're okay?" 

"Y-Yeah," he breathed, mouth moving faster than his head, "'M so okay—so fucking okay. I've been thinking about this all week." 

Her brows shot up over her eyes, light flitting through her eyes. "Really? Even when you were talking to your girlfriend tonight?" 

He knew, in the back of his mind, that she was teasing him. The way she said the word full of extra sing-song syllables, the same way she would have teased him if he weren't half naked. But there was absolutely no room in his head where he could find any joke to play along. 

"I was thinking about y'the whole time," he confessed, "She—She's not you." 

"Harry," she crooned, her eyes soft and rounded, "You can't talk like that. Not when I'm about to suck you off; you'll make me cry instead. And not in a hot way." 

Unable to hold back any more, Harry let out a flowing moan. The gravel of his voice filled their home, disrupting the hushed tones they had been using before. 

Why would she say that? When he was barely holding everything together, why would she say that?

He couldn't keep his mind from wandering to the idea of her blinking back tears with her lips stretched around his cock. Harry never wanted to see her shed any tears—especially over him—but this idea, full of smudged mascara and glossy eyes, didn't sound so bad at all. 

His composure being something just out of reach, Harry didn't have a chance before he could feel the breath of (Y/N)'s slight laugh fanning across his heated length. Just barely was he able to force himself to peel his eyes open to catch sight of her pressing her lips to the head of his cock. 

It was a gentle kiss, the same kind that she would plant on his cheek when in a particularly touchy mood. Not the kind of thing that should have made the muscles banding his thighs and blocking his abdomen grow exponentially tighter.

Harry tightly clutched the throw blanket at his sides, the material thinning against the force of his fingers. Nothing could have prepared him for how deeply something so simple affected him.

(Y/N) continued with only a small crease appearing between her brows. She kissed the crown of his length more than once, dragging the pillows of her pretty lips over the heated skin. As innocent as the act appeared, it was immediately stomach twisting when he saw the way the thin strings of his cum connected her mouth to his head. The gloss she had lost back at the bar, was back in the form of Harry's own pleasure. 

Pinning his bottom lip between his teeth, he watched with clenched hands while (Y/N)'s own moved along the strength of his thighs. One stayed braced over the ink of his tiger, fingertips denting the plush skin in an anchoring touch. The other continued on until her fist was wrapped around the base. 

A swift breath was sucked in through his nose at the touch. Once again, he was reminded that his hand paled in comparison to hers. No one else in the world could be as soft, as gentle, as firm, as perfect as she was. 

Her name fell from his lips in crooning prayers, Harry sinking further into the cushion. 

Though he was sure his lungs stopped only a heartbeat later. Silence fell over the house, Harry's mouth dropped open in a soundless moan as she took her kissing a step further and tucked his head between her lips. 

The heat of her mouth felt scorching over his sensitive skin, her soothing tongue laving over him.  Her hand at the base of his cock worked up and over his length in lingering strokes. 

Why hadn't anyone told him it could feel like this? No wonder there were millions of videos on seedy sites just about this subject alone. After last week, he doubted any pleasure could top that, and yet, here he was. 

Before he had a chance to become accustomed to the feel of her mouth, (Y/N) pulled away with a soft pop of her lips. She kept her hand moving along his length as she gazed up at him, head canted. 

"Do you want me to go deeper? Or do you like that?" she murmured, her voice lingering and warm. 

"Deeper, deeper," he rushed out, lips slicked and swollen. 

She didn't give anything more than a short smile before Harry watched as she dipped her head and took him back between her lips. 

A moan of her name fell from his lips, sandwiched between swears too jumbled to make much sense of. True to her offer, she lingered over his head for only a moment before she surged forward, taking him deeper. Harry felt hypersensitive at that moment.  

He swore he could feel each bud on her tongue pillowing against his sensitive length. The gentle suction of her cheeks hollowing out around him. The coaxing of her throat as she swallowed him down the further she took him. 

Saliva dripped down his length, slicking her hand as she continued the rhythmic pumping. Harry couldn't look away, but could barely keep his eyes open. 

Watching her felt like looking into the sun—like he was going to go blind, like he couldn't watch for longer than a moment before was going to lose it. But, he couldn't look away. He was lucky enough to have had her touch once, let alone twice. He couldn't act like this was ever going to happen a third time. He had to savor each and every moment. 

Even when he felt the tight channel of her throat closing around the very tip of his cock, he forced his eyes to stay open. Even when he saw that moment that had his muscles going taut with (Y/N)'s eyes growing glossy. It should have broken his heart to see her blinking back tears, but he only felt the winding of the pit of his stomach. 

Twice in a row, he was not going to be able to last. Twice in a row was he going to embarrass himself in front of his ultimate dream girl. 

But, god, was it worth it. 

"(Y/N), I—" 

She cut him off with a slight gag closing her throat, enough for her to pull off for a steadying breath. Her mouth was slick and swollen, dropped in a gape as she dragged in breath after breath. 

"Sorry," she mumbled, continuing the strokes of her hand, "Scared myself. I just need a second." 

"Don't be sorry, don't be sorry," he muttered, finally giving in and throwing his head back with his eyes screwed shut. Precum streamed out of his cock, vein throbbing "You're perfect, love. So perfect." 

The breathy laugh she let out was watery. "Thanks, H. You're perfect, too." 

He should have felt silly, having given out such rambling praise right now, when it would no doubt sound like the lusty thoughts of a horny mind. Not like the honesty that slipped out in a vulnerable moment. 

Though, he didn't have any longer than a pair of heartbeats to dwell before (Y/N) wiped any and all thoughts from his head. The glorious, wonderful, perfect heat of her mouth enveloped him once more. She sucked around him, matching the tight grip of her fist around his base.

"Fuck, fuck, (Y/N)," he chattered, surprised he hadn't ripped a hole in the fabric of the throw blanket puddled around him, "'M gonna cum, 'm sorry, 'm sorry. Y'don't hav-have to—" 

Pulling off of him just enough to press her pursed lips to the tip again, (Y/N) shook her head. "I want to. It's okay, honey. Do whatever you want." 

Maybe it was the vibration of her voice echoing around his length, or the sight of her pretty mouth parting for her soft tongue to lick over his head, or the encouragement that she wanted to take his cum—whatever it was, was all he needed. The bunched muscles lining his bones finally gave way, releasing him like a rubber band snapping as his hips lifted from the cushion. 

He unraveled on the sofa, a warning on his lips that didn't make it in time before the first rope spurted out of him. His lungs were stunted as he watched the first dredge released over her mouth, following the line of her nose and dripping to the shape of her lips. (Y/N) closed her eyes, a soft gasp falling from her pretty, swollen, glazed lips. It was only a second before she tucked the head of his cock back between her lips, swallowing the rest of his release. 

She continued the stroke of her hand, working him through the throes without lagging. Every pump of his release was swallowed down by (Y/N), the motion sending aftershocks through him. The grip she held on his thigh, with her nails digging into the skin was the only bite of clarity offered in that moment. 

The world felt so small then, consisting of only he and (Y/N) and the throw blanket he was never going to complain about being balled up on the sofa ever again. There could never be anything else worthy of his attention when (Y/N) looked up at him with glossy eyes, bottom lashes clumping together. All with the traces of his cum having painted over her face. 

"What the fuck?" Harry breathed out, a slight bit of delirious laughter falling from his lungs as he melted against the couch. His head fell back against the cushion, fingers cramping as he unravelled from the throw blanket. 

Pulling away with a pop, (Y/N) allowed him to come down without the distraction of her touch. 

"Good what the fuck? Or bad?" she breathed, letting go of his leg with one final squeeze. 

"Good," Harry cemented with a nod, "So good." 

Sucking in a deep breath, he pulled his head from where it had lolled against the cushions. Just in time to see her swiping her fingers through the mess on her face, licking his cum from her fingers. 

Maybe his head was still in the clouds, the lack of oxygen having made him delirious and impulsive, but Harry didn't give a second thought before he was leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. 

He could taste something salty and heady on her mouth, but he didn't care. There had been plenty of times before this that Harry wanted to kiss her, but this was the first time he couldn't find a single reason not to. He was convinced that this was the only way he could possibly show her how much he appreciated, and revered, and cared for her after she did such an act for him. 

Her skin was just a touch sticky as he cradled her cheeks between his palms, their swollen lips sealed together. The very tip of his nose grazed the bridge of her own as he tipped his head just enough. 

By the time his head caught up to his body, he realized she had gone stiff, mouth parted as if in the process of gasping. 

A string of curses ran through his head. What was he thinking? Is he stupid? Or just so horny and touch starved, this seemed like a good idea?

Just as he made a move to pull away, (Y/N) pressed forward, kissing back. Matching his movements, she tilted her head and pursed her lips. It was Harry's turn to feel the slight gaze of her nose tracing his skin. The creases in their lips lined up perfectly, fitting together like jigsaw pieces. 

Now was far from the time to confess just how many times he pictured and wondered what it would be like to kiss (Y/N), but suffice to say, the reality was galaxies better than the fantasy. 

It was a short kiss, lasting only long enough for Harry to hear his heartbeat in his ears before he pulled back.  

(Y/N)'s eyes were bright as she gazed up at him. "What was that for?" she whispered, voice croaky. 

Harry shook his head. He could go on, listing for days, though maybe that was for another time. 

"Jus' thank you." 

The smile that bloomed over her mouth was sweet and sticky, glossed by saliva and a mess Harry was going to feel more guilty over once his head was clear. 

 "You're silly, H," she murmured, tipping her chin just enough to peck his lips, "You're welcome." With that, she stood to the full of her height, Harry's hands falling back to his sides. "I'll be right back. I'm going to clean up my face, but maybe we could have a sleepover out here tonight?"

It was the way she looked at him, like this was just another night of bonding with her best friend, that was going to make his heart both bloat and break. 

Harry nodded instinctively. "That sounds like fun, (Y/N)." 

She bounced in her spot with a chattery cheer before starting off to her room, promising to be back in just a moment. 

He watched her bedroom door swing closed behind her, left alone in the quiet of the living room. Harry made an effort to put himself back together, underwear and pants pulled back up though he didn't bother to refasten them before he started towards his own bedroom. He needed to gather a few things for their sleepover, and that was what he was going to focus on and not the buzzing of his lips. Not the way his legs felt like jelly, his lungs rivaling the pounding of his heart. 

How much of a fool was he? He was never going to be able to keep from crossing that flimsy, self-appointed line that reminded him that she was nothing more than his roommate and wasn't going to ever be anything else. That boundary was miles behind him, unable to be seen. Not anymore, at least. 

Not after tonight. 

—————

figs are the roman symbol of Dionysus, god of wine, and priapus, satyr of sexual desire

ahhhhh thank u sm for reading! sorry for any mistakes and I cant wait hear what everyone thinks! any fun ideas or requests pleaseeeee send them in!

[ghcstao3]

AU where ghost is a relatively famous voice actor—by name, anyway. he’s never shown his face in those ‘behind-the-scenes’ videos, doesn’t do red carpets for the bigger productions, always leaves the press junkets to his colleagues. he loves his job, don’t get him wrong, it’s fun and creative and he’s met some really great people, he just… has never wanted to be in the limelight. that’s not for him.

and it’s easy to get away with, because all of the voices he uses are not really his. there’s elements of him, sure, but nothing someone in person could necessarily place, unless they really listened close and were some kind of super fan. in real life, ghost is soft spoken, and maybe his voice is a little rough from the years before he learned how to properly take care of his vocal cords, but it’s still completely separate from all his characters. that was a rule he stuck with throughout his career—no using his real voice.

soap likes to consider himself a fan of simon riley.

(of his work, obviously. just his work. he definitely isn’t intrigued or anything by the mystery that is the voice actor. nuh uh. not at all.)

he’s seen just about every film and show that features one of the actor’s many voices, knows what little trivia is known of him, and, ultimately, he really respects the guy. his younger sister had finally landed herself a sizeable role in voice acting pretty recently after years of odds and ends, and soap knows how difficult it is to make it in the industry. so what if he may also have a little bit of a crush on the unknown man’s talent?

and so what if that little crush has presently brought him to a bookstore, because soap had heard simon would be voicing a character in some adaptation and soap wanted to get himself caught up? it’s fine. it’s normal. totally normal.

it’s in search of the book when soap accidentally stumbles into an absolute brick-wall of a man as he rounds the corner. soap mutters out apologies, goes to move past him, but then looks up and melts, just a little. because it’s then that soap discovers the prettiest set of brown eyes he thinks he’s ever seen. and when his gaze briefly flicks down—he sees that the man is holding the book he’d been looking for.

soap grins, does his best to look charming in spite of the fact that he’d just run into this poor, beautiful bastard. “was lookin’ for that one, too.”

the man’s brow furrows in confusion before he realizes what soap had been referring to. his eyes fall almost self-consciously to the book.

“oh, yeah. it’s a good book. gave my nephew my other copy, so i’m just…” the man lifts the book in some helpless gesture.

“hm.” soap nods. he can’t help but notice how soothing the man’s voice is, low and rough around the edges, but completely soft in the middle. “y’hear they’re making a movie?”

the man perks up, and for a moment soap wonders if that’s panic he sees flash in his eyes. he clears his throat. “yes, that’s actually why i’m, well. i owned it before, but because i’m doing the—because of the movie, i had to…” the man sighs, shoulders slumping. it’s endearing, the way he’s gotten so easily flustered, like he isn’t used to small talk. “never mind. i’ll let you… i hope you enjoy it. the book. and movie too, i guess.”

soap laughs, not unkindly. “the book, we’ll see. favourite actor’s in the movie, so i’ll probably like it either way.”

“yeah?” the man cocks his head, curious. “who’s that?”

unashamedly, soap replies, “simon riley.”

it’s not unnoticeable, the way the man’s face blossoms a faint pink before he coughs and ducks his head. “he’s, uh. heard he’s good,” he says. “so others say.”

for a moment, it looks like the man is preparing to bolt, so soap sticks out his hand as a last-minute resort to keep him around just a little longer. “i’m john. friends call me soap. long story, but if you maybe let me take you out for some coffee, i could tell you?”

apprehension lines the man’s posture, but he eventually tucks the book under one arm and shakes soap’s hand. “friends call me ghost. and i’d like that.”

ghost’s hand is warm, his grip firm. soap tries not to let himself linger in the touch.

“sounds like a date.” soap smiles up at ghost. “did you want to do that today, or…?”

ghost shakes his head. “can’t today. but i can give you my number?”

soap agrees, but as he reaches for his phone he’s met with an empty pocket and the realization that he’d left it on the counter at home. he sighs, feeling disheartened, readying an excuse when he gets an idea. “d’you have a pen?”

ghost does, in fact, have a pen, though soap supposes he could’ve just gone and bought one from the bookstore just as well. soap tells him to stay put a minute, goes to retrieve his own copy of the book, and comes back with it opened to the first page.

“i’m buying it, anyway,” soap says. and it’s commemorative, he doesn’t add, of the day and reason we met. because he’s hopeful this may actually go somewhere.

ghost writes his phone number inside, deliberately hands the book back to soap with the cover pressed closed by his thumb, and they head to the register together.

it’s only when soap gets home and finally goes to type ghost’s number into his phone that he sees, above the digits, a small simon :) inscribed on the paper.

[dreamscapeee222]

Could you maybe do a reversal or Arevik's request? As someone who struggles with their body image the other way around.

A/n: I was actually planning on this. Now I write this for you :) I hope you like it!

You struggle with your body image

Vi, Jinx, Caitlyn, Ekko, Jayce, Viktor, Mel

Masterlist

Vi

Vi notices your discomfort with your reflection long before you voice it. She’s observant, her sharp eyes catching how you pull at your clothes or avoid mirrors.

"Hey, you don’t have to look like anyone else to kick butt, alright? Trust me—I’ve seen you in action." She’ll say it with conviction, her tone brooking no argument.

When she realizes how deep your struggles run, she doesn’t push, but she’s always there. She’ll drag you to a boxing gym one day, not to force you to fight but to show you how strong you are.

"You’ve got nothing to prove to anyone," she tells you after watching you land a perfect punch.

Jinx

Jinx is chaotic but fiercely protective. She notices your hesitation to eat or how you tug at your sleeves and immediately declares, "Whoever made you feel like this? I’m blowing ‘em up."

She tries to cheer you up in her own unpredictable ways—drawing exaggerated portraits of you that make you laugh and reminding you she doesn’t care about appearances.

"You’re my favorite person, you know that? And I’m the smartest person in Zaun, so... my opinion’s the only one that matters."

On bad days, she’ll cuddle up next to you, her arms tight around your waist, mumbling, "I’ve got you. You don’t need to change a thing."

Caitlyn

Caitlyn notices the subtle changes in your mood when the topic of appearances comes up. She approaches it delicately, waiting for you to feel safe enough to open up.

When you finally do, she listens carefully, her eyes soft with understanding. "You’re beautiful as you are, but I understand how hard it is to feel that way sometimes."

She makes small changes to help you feel more comfortable—like buying clothes in cuts and fabrics you’d like or planning outings to places where you won’t feel judged.

Caitlyn constantly reinforces how much she values you, not just with words but through her actions. "It’s okay to struggle. Just don’t forget that you’re never alone in this."

Ekko

Ekko’s no stranger to insecurity, so he picks up on your struggle almost immediately. He doesn’t push you to talk about it but offers little reassurances whenever he can.

"You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. And no one else gets to define what’s worth loving about you. That’s all you, alright?"

On hard days, he’ll distract you with his projects or take you for a ride through the Lanes, showing you the world through his eyes. "This city doesn’t define us—neither do the things we don’t like about ourselves."

He’s endlessly patient, always reminding you of your worth without overwhelming you.

Jayce

Jayce struggles to grasp the depth of your feelings at first. He’s used to being confident and assumes a pep talk will fix it. "You’re amazing, okay? Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

When he realizes it’s more complicated than that, he shifts his approach, becoming more attentive. He starts noticing when you’re withdrawn and subtly adjusts his behavior to meet you where you’re at.

He’ll pull you into a tight hug, his voice warm as he says, "Whatever you see when you look in the mirror... I wish you could see what I see."

Jayce is big on small gestures, like leaving notes or little gifts to remind you of how much he cares.

Viktor

Viktor is deeply empathetic and picks up on your struggles quickly, though he doesn’t address it outright at first. Instead, he starts spending more time with you, letting his quiet presence offer comfort.

One day, as you stare at yourself in the mirror with a defeated look, he speaks softly but firmly. "I’ve spent my life defying limitations—don’t let your mind be one of them."

Viktor gently encourages you to focus on what your body allows you to do rather than how it looks. He’ll share stories of his own insecurities, hoping it helps you feel less alone.

On particularly bad days, he simply takes your hand and reminds you, "You are enough. You always have been."

Mel

Mel’s approach is thoughtful and calculated, but her warmth shines through in every interaction. She notices your discomfort almost immediately but gives you the space to come to her.

When you do, she listens without judgment, her hand resting gently on yours. "There’s nothing wrong with you," she says, her tone firm yet kind. "But I’ll help you see that when you’re ready."

She introduces you to self-care routines that help her feel confident, but she’s careful never to make you feel pressured. "You don’t have to change a thing to deserve love—not from me, not from anyone."

Mel is fiercely protective, shutting down anyone who dares make you feel lesser. Her love is constant, unwavering, and she ensures you feel it in every word and touch.

Requests may be sent through the ask box. Only SFW.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ʀ ᴇ ᴅ ʜ ᴏ ᴏ ᴅ ⸻

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem Reader

Headcanon: how would he be when he's obsessed?

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The first time Jason stepped into Wayne Manor, he looked more like a stray cat than a boy. When Bruce introduced him to you—you couldn’t help but notice the defiance in his eyes, like he expected you to reject him immediately. But instead of recoiling from his rough edges, you smiled and offered your hand. It was the first moment Jason felt truly seen.

Jason didn’t know what to do with kindness, especially not from someone who looked at him like he was worth something.

“You’re going to love it here,” you said warmly, still holding out your hand.

He didn’t take it, but he didn’t forget the gesture either. That moment rooted itself in him, and he clung to it in the months to come.

You were the first person to make him laugh in years. It started small—quiet chuckles he tried to hide—but eventually, you had him cackling so hard that tears streamed down his face.

You were unlike anyone Jason had ever met. While Bruce was the stern, brooding authority figure, you were warmth and understanding. You treated him like an equal, never pitying him for his past or scolding him for his sharp tongue. You’d sit with him during his training, patch him up after patrols, and listen to him vent about the unfairness of Gotham’s streets. Jason began to feel that you were the one good thing in his life—a tether to keep him grounded.

Even in those early days, Jason couldn’t help but feel a flicker of jealousy whenever you spent time with others. Whether it was Dick dropping by the Manor or Bruce pulling you away for a mission, Jason would watch, his jaw clenched and fists tight. You were his sanctuary, and the thought of sharing you with anyone else left a sour taste in his mouth.

Jason always found reasons to keep you close. He insisted on sparring with you during training, claiming no one else could push him like you did. He memorized the way you moved, the sound of your laughter when you managed to pin him, and the way your eyes narrowed in concentration. He lived for those moments.

Whenever you went on patrol, Jason was there, watching your back like a hawk. At first, you thought he was just being protective, but over time, his behavior grew more intense. If a thug so much as glanced at you the wrong way, Jason’s fists would leave them unrecognizable. “They deserved it,” he’d mutter, his knuckles dripping with blood, his gaze softening only when it landed on you.

Jason began planting seeds of doubt about everyone around you. He’d point out flaws in Dick’s plans, subtly criticize Bruce’s parenting, and even question Alfred’s judgment, all to make you feel like he was the only one you could truly rely on.

When Jason died, it shattered you. The boy who had been your closest friend, your partner in everything, was gone. Bruce tried to comfort you, but nothing could fill the void Jason left behind.

When Jason came back as the Red Hood, his first thought was of you.

You. The only light he’d ever known. The one thing that kept him tethered to humanity. And you hadn’t saved him.

His obsession became worse, this bitter, consuming need to make you pay for abandoning him—and to keep you. Jason spiraled, his love for you warping into something darker, something unrecognizable.

Jason stalks you now, though he doesn’t see it that way. He calls it watching over you. You’re his, and Gotham is dangerous, especially with the Bat family’s enemies constantly circling.

He knows everything: where you go, who you talk to, what makes you smile. The line between love and control blurs with each passing day.

Sometimes, he visits you in secret. You’ll come home to find your favorite meal waiting on the counter or a new book sitting on your bedside table. Other times, you’ll catch glimpses of him in the shadows—just a flicker of red and black before he’s gone.

And then there are the times he lets himself be seen. He’ll stand in the middle of your apartment, waiting for you to come home. His voice is low, almost dangerous, as he says, “You don’t lock your windows, princess. Someone could get hurt.”

You try to confront him, try to reason with him, but Jason isn’t the boy you knew. He’s sharper now, more unhinged.

“You think you can just forget me?” he growls, pinning you against the wall. “You think you can move on, live your life without me? That’s not how this works princess.”

Jason’s obsession manifests in unpredictable ways. One moment, he’s protective and tender, swearing to keep you safe at all costs. The next, he’s violent and possessive, tearing apart anyone who gets too close to you.

He’s killed for you, though he’d never admit it. That coworker who flirted with you too much? Dead in an alleyway. The stranger who catcalled you on the street? Beaten within an inch of their life.

“I’m doing this for you,” he says, his voice trembling with something raw and desperate. “You don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you. I’ll take care of it.”

You try to push him away, but it only makes him cling harder. Jason doesn’t see the line between love and obsession. To him, it’s all the same.

Jason’s ultimate goal is simple: to have you. To keep you with him, away from the dangers of Gotham—and away from anyone else.

“I’m not asking, princess,” he says one night, dragging you into his arms. “I’m taking you. No one else gets to have you. Not Bruce, not Dick, not anyone. You’re mine, and I’ll burn this city to the ground before I let you go.”

And maybe, deep down, a part of you doesn’t want him to. Because for all his madness, Jason is still Jason—the boy who made you laugh, who understood your pain, who loved you in a way no one else ever could.

But at what cost?

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

[alotofpockets]

Finding comfort | Katie McCabe x Teen!Reader

Where you're always very timid, but open up to Katie

Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

-----

You had never been great at new environments. It always takes a long time before you are able to warm up to people you don’t know. So, being called up to Arsenal’s senior team and being surrounded by a whole new team definitely wasn’t an easy task.

The first few weeks had flown by, but you hadn’t really spoken to any of your teammates, besides giving short answers to their questions.No one seemed to mind that you were so timid, never pushing you. 

Behind your back they had spoken about it, not in a bad way, more so that they were worried that you weren’t comfortable here. They tried in different ways to make you feel more included, hoping you would start opening up more, but despite their best efforts not much changed. However, your teammates were patient with you, and you were grateful that they weren’t pushing.

“Good morning, are you ready for training?” Kim said as she sat down besides you in the locker room. You smiled timidly and nodded. Your team captain smiled and quietly got ready besides you. Around you the room was buzzing with the chatter of the rest of your teammates.

Training today was a gym session. You enjoyed gym days because for the biggest part of it, you were working individually. While yes football was a team sport, so that part was very important, the individual work made you feel more comfortable with the new environment.

You started with biking, as that was usually the equipment that everyone liked the least, so you would have the space to yourself. After a few minutes of cycling, Katie walked up. “Hey Kid, mind if I join you?” In response you nod. She sits down on the bike beside you and starts cycling with you.

After a few minutes of silence, Katie turns her head your way with a serious expression. “I’ve got an important question for you.” You turn to her, worried about what she might ask. Katie McCabe wasn’t known for being serious, so this must be something big or important.

“Do you think cereal is a soup?” You look at her in disbelief, definitely not having expected that question at all. “That’s your important question?” Your lips curl up slightly. “Yes, I need to know where you stand on the matter.” She says just as seriously as she started.

This time your smile breaks out and you start laughing. Katie smiles proudly before she joins in on your laughter. “So,” She says when the laughter dies down. “Is it soup?” You shake your head. “Definitely not and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

Katie gasped, her face filled with shock. “Not soup? Unbelievable. I thought you had better judgement, Kid.” You felt the walls you had up crumble bit by bit every time she joked around. 

The sound of your laughter caught the attention of a few of your teammates in the gym. They looked at the intersection between you and Katie with smiles on their faces. Who would have thought that Katie would’ve been the one to get you to open up more?

“I will let you off the hook this time. Everyone is allowed one wrong opinion, and you have just used yours.” You shake your head with a chuckle. “Good to know.”

The two of you continued chatting throughout your bike session. The team occasionally looks over, happy to see that you are feeling more at home. Wondering what kind of magic Katie used to get through to you. 

“Do you maybe want to join me and toss the ball around?” Katie is quick to say yes, happy that you want to continue opening up to her. “Right behind you.” She says as she gets stopped by Leah on the way.

“I’ve never seen her like this. How did you get her to open up?” The blonde asks full of wonder. Katie shrugs, “I told you that I am funnier than the rest of you.” She walks off proudly, leaving Leah standing there dumbfounded.  

You had picked out the weight that you wanted to use right as Katie walked up. “Alright, show me what you got, Kid.” She stood a few steps in front of you and got ready to catch the ball. You held it at chest height as you squatted down and in your movement up, you threw the ball her way. She did the same movement before tossing the ball your way again.

Just like on bikes, the two of you were chatting. It seemed like you were getting really comfortable with Katie, and there was just one thought on the older players' mind. “Why me?” She asked out loud before thinking.

“I eh, I mean you’re opening up to me and I was wondering what made you do so with me?” She threw the ball back your way. You catch it with ease and as you squat down you answer her question. 

“You just made me feel safe.” You toss the ball back but Katie is so caught by surprise with your answer that it just falls to the ground in front of her. “I win.” You say with a proud smirk.

“Yeah yeah, well done, Kid.” Katie tries to shrug off the loss, but ultimately she’s feeling very good, because she had created a safe space for you without even realising it. Growing up with younger siblings had unintentionally prepared her for youngsters joining the team.

“I want a revance on this next training.” You shake her reached out hand. “Deal, but don’t be upset if I beat you again.” Laughter erupts in the room. Your cheeks turn a bright red when you realise everyone was looking at you. 

Katie notices and puts her arm around your shoulder. “Get used to it Kid, that humour will get you far with these girls.”

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging! You can also supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

[littlelamy]

Rafe x Reader request: They’ve been going on a few dates, with Rafe in the hopes to get in in her pants. Rafe has been more of a fuckboy, lots of experience, kicks girls out as soon as it’s done and have they been inexperienced – he’s kicked them out straight away before anything happens, not having any energy to ‘’teach’’. Cue to Reader and him about to get intimate, she confesses to being a virgin and he kicks her out. HOWEVER……he this time feels like absolute shit about seeing how sad she got and realizes he has fallen for her….and he tries to fix it (happy ending)

a/n: thank you for request, hope you like it!!💗

rafe cameron was never one to think much beyond the moment. he didn’t overanalyze his hookups, didn’t question why they always left with messy hair and no promises of a second date. he had a rhythm to his life, and it worked for him. girls came and went, his phone a revolving door of contacts he didn’t even bother saving half the time.

until you showed up.

it wasn’t just that you were beautiful—plenty of girls were. but you had this quiet confidence about you, a way of looking at him that didn’t scream take me home now. you made him work for your attention, your time, your smiles. and god, he wanted to work for it.

the first few dates were surprisingly normal. no wild nights, no sneaky excuses to get you alone in his room. you made him laugh, made him feel something he hadn’t in years—light, easy, like he could just be rafe without any expectations. but tonight, as you sat on his couch, sipping wine and smiling at him in that way that made his chest ache, rafe couldn’t ignore the tension humming between you any longer.

he leaned in, testing the waters with a soft brush of his lips against yours. when you didn’t pull away, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands sliding to your waist. you melted into him, your fingers tangling in his hair, and that was all the invitation he needed.

rafe pulled you closer, his hands wandering beneath your shirt, his kisses growing more urgent. but just as his fingers brushed against the clasp of your bra, you stiffened, pulling back suddenly.

“wait,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

rafe froze, his hands stilling as he searched your face. “what’s wrong?”

you bit your lip, looking anywhere but at him. “i… i need to tell you something.”

his heart sank, the worst possibilities flashing through his mind. “what is it?”

“i’ve never done this before,” you said quietly, barely audible.

the words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected. rafe blinked, his mind struggling to catch up. “you mean…?”

“i’m a virgin,” you clarified, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

the room suddenly felt too small, too quiet. rafe sat back, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process. a virgin. you were a virgin. he hadn’t expected that. he hadn’t planned for that.

“shit,” he muttered under his breath.

you pulled your knees to your chest, your voice small. “i’m sorry. i should’ve told you sooner.”

“no, it’s not…” rafe trailed off, shaking his head. “it’s not your fault. it’s just… i don’t think i’m the right guy for this.”

your eyes shot up to meet his, wide with confusion and hurt. “what do you mean?”

“i mean… i don’t think i can give you what you deserve for your first time,” he said, his voice hollow. “you should be with someone who can… i don’t know, make it special or whatever. someone who knows how to handle that.”

the words tasted bitter as he said them, but he convinced himself it was the right thing to do. he wasn’t the guy for you, not for something this big. he couldn’t risk screwing it up.

you stood abruptly, grabbing your bag. “i see.”

“wait—”

“no, it’s fine,” you interrupted, your voice trembling as you headed for the door. “thanks for letting me know where we stand.”

rafe didn’t stop you. he didn’t know how. the door clicked shut behind you, and the silence that followed was deafening.

the guilt hit him almost immediately.

rafe spent the next few days trying to ignore the gnawing pit in his stomach, but it was useless. every time he closed his eyes, he saw the hurt on your face, the way your voice cracked when you said thanks for letting me know where we stand.

he tried to tell himself he did the right thing. he wasn’t equipped for this. he wasn’t worthy of this. but that reasoning felt thinner with every passing hour.

by the third sleepless night, he couldn’t take it anymore.

you weren’t expecting to see rafe when you opened the door. he stood there with a sheepish expression, holding a bouquet of flowers that looked suspiciously last-minute.

“hi,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

you crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “what do you want?”

“i came to apologize.”

“for what?” you asked, your tone sharp.

“for being a fucking idiot,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “i handled things wrong, and i know i hurt you. i didn’t mean to, but i did, and i’m sorry.”

you stared at him, your defenses still firmly in place. “why now?”

rafe sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “because i haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night. because i was wrong to push you away, and i hate that i made you feel like i didn’t care.”

your heart softened despite yourself, but you weren’t ready to let him off the hook just yet. “and what happens if i let you back in? do you just push me away again the second things get complicated?”

“no,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “i won’t. i swear. i just… i freaked out because i’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and it scared the hell out of me. but i’m done running from it. from you.”

the vulnerability in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes, made your resolve crack. slowly, you stepped aside, letting him in.

rafe didn’t rush you after that.

he was patient in a way you hadn’t expected, taking the time to get to know you in ways that had nothing to do with sex. he remembered the little things you told him—your favorite coffee order, the song that always made you cry, the way you liked your eggs in the morning.

and gradually, the walls between you began to crumble.

it was weeks later, on a quiet friday night, that things came full circle. you were sitting on his couch again, your legs tucked under you as you watched a movie. his arm was draped casually over your shoulders, his thumb tracing absentminded circles on your skin.

when you turned to look at him, he was already watching you, his gaze soft and warm.

“what?” you asked, smiling.

“nothing,” he said, his lips twitching into a grin. “you’re just really fucking cute.”

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks flushed. “shut up.”

he didn’t. instead, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and deliberate. his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face to deepen the kiss.

this time, when his hands wandered, you didn’t stop him.

“are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

you nodded, your eyes locked on his. “i’m sure.”

rafe didn’t rush. he took his time, every touch, every kiss deliberate and reverent. he didn’t just want you—he wanted to make you feel safe, cherished.

and when it was over, he didn’t pull away. instead, he held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if letting go would mean losing you all over again.

for the first time in his life, rafe cameron didn’t feel the need to run. he didn’t feel the need for anyone else.

he just wanted you.

and he wasn’t going to mess it up again.

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[peachysunrize]

Hide & Seek ⥃ Vampire!Aemond Targaryen

Summary: the nightly mysterious deaths make you wonder, but your grandma’s disappearance pulls the last straw. You go to see it for yourself if the myth about the creature of the dark is true and find your granny to take her home.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Dark content!! Manipulation!! Vampire!Aemond, smut, chasing & haunting, death, gore, Beauty & The Beast inspired! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, predator & prey, p in v, breeding, biting, blood & blood licking, stabbing, punching, English is not my first language<3

Word count: 4.6k+

A/n: soooo I talked to a @anjelicawrites about this idea and decided to write it so thank you for tolerating me and helping me with this idea!! also a very special thank you to @sylasthegrim for beta reading this piece for me<33 It’s inspired by Ewan’s outfit and I CANT WAIT TO KNOW YOUR OPINION ON THIS!! Comments & reblogs are so appreciated!

I don’t have a taglist for my one shots so please follow and turn on the notifications of @peachysunrizefics !

It is past midnight when you are woken up by the loud bangs on the door, yelling and pounding on the wood as someone calls your name. It is strange, no one comes to your house at such an ungodly hour, especially if they know your grandmother has trouble sleeping.

You gather your nightgown in your fist before you step down from your bed, reaching for a woolen jacket to put on before you go and answer the door.

“Coming, coming,” you yell back, and as soon as the sleep is gone from your eyes, you take in your surroundings; nothing is in its place. The house is a mess with chairs broken in half, cushions torn apart, and window shards broken into a million pieces.

“What’s happened here?” you ask yourself as you walk cautiously towards the door, staying quiet as you fiddle with the locks, thinking your grandmother is sound asleep.

You find the baker's son on your door, frantic and panting. He looks at you with wide eyes, his hands trembling, and he tries to stutter the words out.

“Y-you—“

“What’s going on? Has something happened?” you ask, wrapping the jacket around yourself tighter. You look at the poor shaking boy before you notice footprints on the snow from your house to the town. “Talk, boy.”

“Granny…” he says with fear, teeth clacking as he talks, “S-she was seen walking towards the woods with someone—“

“Are you out of your mind?” you ask in disbelief, scoffing when the boy shakes his head. “Granny is asleep inside. She sleepwalks, true, but she knows how dangerous nighttime is.”

“We thought she was on a walk with you!” He tries again, sounding desperate, “When we didn’t see her coming back we came to you! Everyone knows the myths about this town and nightly disappearances. We… we fear that your grandmother is…the newest victim.”

You laugh loudly, holding your belly as shocked laughs escape your mouth. Even the idea of your granny taking a walk is hilarious but to think of her getting kidnapped by the stranger of the night seems… unrealistic.

“I shall wake her up now,” you whisper, running back inside, jumping over the ruined furniture, and as you take in the messy room; the damage is far too severe for it to be merely sleepwalking gone wrong.

“Granny?” you say in a low tone, deep down hoping she is asleep under her flower-embroidered blanket. But when you open the door, the gasp you let out is heard from the other side of the house, “No, no, no…” 

  “Miss—“

  “Where are you, Granny?” you scream and try to make sense of the things happening around you. Your grandmother is not in her bed, her room is a mess, in fact, your entire house is. You wrap the jacket around yourself tighter, wiping your tears as you walk back to the front door to talk to the boy.

“Describe the person you saw,” you demand, your nails digging into the palm of your hands, waiting for the boy to talk, “Was it… was it as the tales say? Tall and pale, one eye carved out and teeth soaked in blood?”

“W-we could not see very clearly,” he stutters, rubbing his sweaty hand against his ripped pants, shivering under the cold wind and your much colder and teary gaze, “B-but he was tall! He… he had a long coat too and long hair as well! I did not see his face but-but I am sure his hair was as white as snow!”

“Go find a scythe in the basement and bring it to me,” you glare at the young boy when he looks back at you with wide eyes and parted lips like a fish, “Go, now. I’ll fetch the horse.”

“Where are you going?” He asks, voice shaking and hesitating, “Please, Miss, at least tell me so I can help you!”

“Enough is enough,” you wipe the tears that keep falling from your eyes, walking away from the boy to go to your room and grab a thick cloak, “I can not stand and see how people act oblivious about all the disappearances! My Granny… my sweet Granny was taken away by a man! There is no evil creature in the woods, just a man with a hunger for blood. That human is sick in the head, and should be struck down!”

“You shouldn’t go to search for Granny! People have died on that route, they have been taken to God knows where. We do not need you to go missing as well!”

“I will not,” you wrap the cloak around you tighter before you march outside, the poor boy following you with a hammer in hand he grabbed from behind a couch.

“Then let us accompany you—“

“No,” you reply, panting as you move through the snow towards your stable, petting your horse before you bring it out, grabbing a saddle, and fastening it around the horse’s body, “I will do it on my own, we have enough losses already. I will find Granny and others, trust me.”

“Please, it’s too reckless to go into the woods at such an ungodly hour! Especially now that we know that creature has Granny! Miss, let me go and tell my father about this—“

“Don’t say a word to anyone, do you hear me?” you grab the boy by his collar, pulling him closer so you can whisper harshly in his ear, “He might have ears everywhere. Tell your father about this if I do not come home in a day.”

“This is absurd! You are putting yourself in grave danger—“

“Nothing will happen to me,” you kiss his forehead before grabbing the horse’s reins and jumping over the saddle, “I will find everyone and come back, and if I am lucky enough, I will kill that man.”

“Go in grace, Miss!” he yells and hands you the hammer, petting the horse and making sure your saddle is tight and ready for a run toward the woods, “Save us from the creatures of the dark!”

“I will!” you bolt through the snow, holding the reins with one hand and the other dropping the hammer into the pocket of your cloak mindlessly as you guide the horse towards the entrance of the woods.

The crows are crowing, flapping their wings, and flying away as soon as your horse reaches them. The signs are unclear, covered in thick snow as if their old writings are not fading away already.

The howling of the wolves makes you shiver in fear. Their voices are getting clearer and closer, and you need to follow the path that leads to… somewhere. You have no idea where, perhaps a cottage, or a house, or even a castle. Based on the rumors it must be a castle, or the ruins of it at least.

The tales used to be funny, a bedtime story for little kids, but as soon as the disappearances started, things turned out for the worse. It felt as if the creature’s  long-lasting savings of food of are finished and his hunger is now looming over the city.

You turn to the left, your horse resisting and neighing before suddenly the voices of the wolves grow closer. You bolt through the path, trying to escape the voices before you stumble upon a huge gate. 

Your horse is startled by the darkness surrounding the gate, and behind the freezing bars, there rests a castle in all its glory; the building is huge, and the path leading to its entrance is surrounded by neatly cut bushes. The castle’s terraces are filled with statues of unknown creatures.

You jump down from your horse, shushing the poor animal before you walk towards the gate, examining the lock that held the doors together. Grabbing your hammer from your pocket, you swing the heavy object, trying to break the lock in one swing — the first attempt is a miss, you knock the metallic bars and create a loud sound. The second time, you hit the lock but the impact is not powerful enough to break it.

The third time's a charm; with one swing, you break the lock, fiddling with the broken thing to pull it out and open the gates for yourself.

But when you look up, you notice a flickering light coming from one of the empty terraces, and a shadow is hidden in the dark. Someone is there, you are sure of that because the glinting of a clear gemstone can be seen under the moonlight even from such a great distance.

The glinting is gone as soon as you guide your horse past the gates and towards the entrance of the castle, trying to hold it from rearing back and leaving you alone, but it is a lost cause when the animal is strong enough to knock you down and run out of this creepy place.

You sigh, tightening your grip around the hammer as you slowly push the large doors open, a rush of wind knocking you back as soon as you step inside, slamming the doors shut behind you.

You grab your hammer with both hands, cautiously walking inside the large room, looking around to find a candle so you can at least see where you are heading. Eventually, you reach a table with a burning candle on it at the bottom of the stairs. Picking it up before it ends, you make your way to a half-opened door, leading to a large dining room.

The room is cold, much colder than a human being to be able to live in, and at first glance, besides the dining table and a dusty fireplace, it looks as if no one has touched it in years.

You walk further inside the room, noticing the spider webs all over the walls and couches, even on the chairs and the empty plates — all except for one. The only chair that looks clean is on the other head of the table with an identical empty plate in front of it. But what catches your attention is not the plate, it is the full goblet next to it.

You examine the goblet, noticing the red stains around the rim, thinking of the wine this evil creature must have been having. But the smell is quite unlikely from whatever you have ever drank. No wine smells like metal nor is it so thick.

You grab the goblet and swirl the liquid in it, spilling a little on yourself before you bring the edge of it to your lips, tasting the liquid. You have never gagged so harshly in your life before, but now, you gag, cough, and spit the blood out.

You back away from the table quickly, dropping the goblet on the floor. You notice a trail of blood on the hardwood, leading to the corner of the room, hiding under the shadows. With slow and shaky steps, you follow the trail, gasping when you see your Granny lying there, no color on her face and her neck torn open.

  Granny, your sweet precious Granny who took you in after your parents’ death is now dead in a creepy unknown castle possibly haunted by a mysterious man.

  You fall on your knees next to her, letting go of the hammer as you pull her in your arms, holding her close as you sob atop her. Not in even a thousand years you could have thought about her dying like this; with so little dignity, bitten and bloodied like an animal.

Your eyes catch a shadow moving right outside of the door, merging with the darkness under the flickering candlelight. The shadow is long, and you can figure out a person’s silhouette as you slowly lower your grandma on the floor, grabbing your hammer before approaching the door without making any noise.

Slipping out the door, you follow the shadow into another hall, much larger and emptier than before, only decorated with one loveseat in front of a cold fireplace and a few empty goblets on a table next to the arm of the chair. The walls are covered in different portraits of different people, but you can see how all of them have two similar traits to your unknown haunter — long silver hair and red eyes.

  “Hmm.”

  You whip your head towards the sound, gripping the handle of the hammer tightly as you search for the source. You are scared, terrified even. Who wouldn’t be if they found their grandmother dead with blood gushing out of her while they tried to make sense of the creature who only was supposed to be a fantasy? A myth not worth exploring?

  “I wonder if you taste just as sweet as you smell.”

  “Step into the light!” you scream, your voice echoing in the room as you try to keep your breathing even, “Show yourself, you monster!”

  “Monster?” He sounds so sweet, so calming and soothing, “Sweet lamb, I am anything but a monster.”

  “You killed my grandmother!” you hold back a sob as you turn around yourself, trying to figure out where he is standing, “I should kill you myself, y-you murdered all those people! You kidnapped them and-and—“

“I did not murder them against their will,” he is walking around the room, hidden in the dark, but his footsteps can be heard as he talks, “They were all on the brink of death, I took mercy upon them, and in return, well… I feasted upon them.”

“Who are you?” You yell back, walking to where you think he might be, swinging your hammer in hopes of breaking a bone or two, “What are you, monster?”

“I am the Kinslayer your tales talk about,” he tells you, chuckling when he feels you shiver, “The long forgotten blood thirsty prince.”

“Step out, coward! If you are a kinslayer as you say, then you fear nothing! Step out and show yourself to me!”

“Oh, no, no, sweet lamb,” he hums again, his footsteps growing more distant, “I will not show myself to you so easily. You have come to my home, interrupted my meal. You are in no position to demand anything.”

“I will not leave until I kill you,” you reply, swinging the hammer and throwing it at the shadow, screaming when a loud bang echoes in the hall, alerting you that you have once more missed your aim, “I will haunt you down the way you did to all those poor people!”

“Excellent!” he chuckles once more, and you can feel him circling around you, “Let us play a game, sweet lamb; I hide and you haunt me, and if you catch me, I am yours to do as you please.”

“And if I don’t?” you pant, nails digging into your palms as you try to follow his footsteps, “What will happen to me?”

  “We shall see.”

  Then you feel him leave the room, his shadow following him outside. You bolt after him, trying to keep up with him but soon you lose track of his shadow.

You have no idea what part of the castle you are in now; a large staircase leads to two wings of the castle, and each one probably contains many rooms and halls. Figuring he would follow you either way, you choose to go to the west wing, skipping a step or two on your way up as you try to find another hall and a weapon to wield.

With ragged breaths, you reach another hall, a much larger one that you assume used to be a dance hall filled with lords and ladies, and much to your luck, you find metallic armors resting on a wall, holding a sword in their hands.

Before you can run towards them, you see a glance of the man’s white hair flowing in the wind before he’s gone again. The room is quiet and dark, but you can pinpoint where things rest thankfully due to the bright moonlight.

“Come out!” you yell, making your way to one of the armors and grabbing a sword before you see the glint of his eye for one second and disappearing again.

You try to follow his steps, or even the air that thickens when he walks away, but all is lost when you can not find him in another hall. You could be lost already for all you know, you could be in the heart of the castle where no one can hear your screams while he tears through your flesh, or you through his.

The sword is heavy but it is necessary as you carry it to the other halls attached to the bigger ones — it looks like a maze, a mind game he has created just to trap someone like you inside and have his fill with of.

You are doing your very best, but even the strongest soldiers grow weak sometimes. Stopping in the middle of a much smaller hall, you look around and take your surroundings in; a small table is next to one of the walls with cuffs attached to the sides of the table, red blood stains cover the wooden surface and you finally realize you have walked into the lion’s den with your own feet.

This room is for his victims, people he takes his time with to pull out layers of skin one by one and lick the blood off of the wounds.

  “Welcome, sweet lamb.”

  You turn around quickly, holding the sword up as best as you can as he finally walks inside the room with a candle in hand, revealing himself to your angry eyes.

“You lost,” you say shakily, your hands trembling as you struggle to keep the heavy metal up, pointing it at the pale human in front of you, “Now tell me what you are.”

“Oh, sweet sweet lamb, I did not lose,” he chuckles, one hand behind his back while the other puts the candle on the table, his white hair framing his face as he looks down at his shoes before his one eye meets your frightened gaze, “I found you, which means…”

“Don’t you dare come closer,” you say through gritted teeth, holding the sword tighter in your hand while you take a step back as soon as he takes one forward, “I fucking won, now tell me what is going on?”

“Shh,” he holds his hand behind his back, his long black coat makes him even taller than he must be, and with the way he walks towards you, it starts a fire within you, a fire so bright and burning that has you breathing faster, “I told you; I am the Kinslayer from centuries ago. Aemond Targaryen, the one-eye prince.”

“That’s impossible!” you cry out when he steps closer, wrapping your fingers around the sword as hard as you can, ready to strike if he comes much closer, “Targaryens died at least three hundred years ago! You were wiped off because of what you did to people! What you are now doing to my people!”

“My family died because they were fools,” he leans a bit down, his one red eye glimmering under the orange light of the candle, “They died because they thought begging nicely for a drop of blood would keep them safe. Only I was clever enough to find a way to survive.”

“By killing people! By murdering innocent humans who were happy an hour before you took them in!” 

He steps closer until the tip of the sharp blade is pressed against his chest, but he does not back away, not really. He is not scared of death, that much is visible, but he also loves to play, and that makes it much harder to resist him. He is trying to lure you in, to hurt him, to somehow make the first move so he would not be responsible for what may come next.

“You kill animals to cook, I like my meals fresh, warm, and immediate,” he raises his hand to the blade, wrapping his fingers around it before he pulls you closer, his blood leaking on the sword and the floor as he keeps tightening his grip, “I drink to survive, and I play to live.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” your lips quiver as you say, “You have to pay for what you did to my Granny, I will make sure of it.”

“Be my guest, sweet lamb.”

You do just as he wants, wielding the sword quickly and cutting through his hand, going for another blow before he slams you to the wall behind you with his foot, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

Another swing is thrown in his way, and you try to control the heavy object in your hands but he is fast, too fast to your liking, and dodges all the clumsy moves easily, his white hair swinging behind him with each puff and sigh he makes.

With one slap to your wrists, you drop the sword and fall on the floor, looking up at him with teary furious eyes. He only smirks and kneels before you, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear but you take your chance and punch him in the jaw, pushing him down on his back before climbing on top of him, holding his rests next to his head as best as you can while he recovers from the blow.

“I will torture you until you are begging me—uff—“

He flips you over effortlessly, holding you down on the stone cold floor with one knee between your thighs and his crotch pressing your hips down while he holds both of your wrists over your head.

“You are as sick as I am in the head,” he leans down, his hot breath ghosting against your face as he speaks, “You are enjoying this.”

“I am not!” A lie, you know it is a lie, he knows it is a lie. You do enjoy this little game, you love the thrill of killing him and fighting with him. The rage inside you bubbles more with each passing second that you are in his presence, “I would rather die—“

“I will not kill you until I have had my fill,” he whispers, hiding his face into your neck as he sniffs you, “Fuck, you smell so divine, I need to taste you, sweet lamb…”

“Fuck!” You let out a noise between a scream and a moan when he bites down on your shoulder just above your collarbone, his fangs pushing past your flesh as he reaches deep inside and starts sucking harshly, “You monster!”

He only hums and smiles, his thin lips wrapped tightly around the open wound — he can not get enough. He knew how sweet you smelled, your scent drove him crazy as soon as you stepped inside his castle but to get to taste you? Licking and gulping down your blood like a starved man is something he did not expect, especially when you are still alive and writhing beneath him in pain and pleasure.

  He can make you taste even sweeter.

  “You call me a monster while you are rocking your hips to relieve some of the ache between your thighs,” he says as he lets go of the wound, his chin and teeth covered in crimson red, “So pathetic of you, sweet lamb.”

You do not have anything to say, not really because he is already pushing your nightgown up to your hips with his free hand while his other is undoing your cloak. You shiver when the cold air of the room hits your heated inner thighs, your pearl throbbing in anticipation and primal desire.

He is just as mesmerized as you are when he rips your underwear to shreds and runs his 

fingers through your wet folds, enticing a whine from you. He has you right where he wants.

You writhe beneath him as he circles your nerves with his thumb, making your body tremble with each stroke, your cunt clenching around nothing, wetness dribbling out of your hole in need.

“It’s my time to play,” he announces and reaches between your bodies to free his already aching cock, stroking a few times until it stands in full hardness. 

He wiggles around a little while you try to free yourself from his grasp, not trying to yield too quickly, but the look on his face is enough to make you whimper and spread your legs further for him.

Aemond guides the tip of his weeping cock to your entrance, pushing in completely with one swift thrust, drawing a loud moan from your sweet lips as he sheathes himself inside you fully, filling you up nicely.

Your walls grip his length tightly, pulsing and squeezing him every few seconds before he starts moving, his hips snapping into yours as he holds himself up with one hand pushing your wrists into the floor harshly while the other holds his body up.

Your back arches off the stones, legs wrapping around his waist as your mind goes to another place, taking his cock like the sweet lamb he calls you, allowing him to take and take from you — he has prepared you after all with his silly games of hide and seek, seeding the thrill inside you.

“I shall keep you alive,” he groans in your ear as he once more moves his head to the wound he created, licking the blood from your shoulder while his cock nudges the deepest part of your cunt, making your body quiver in sheer pleasure, “Your blood is too sweet for me to waste. I will keep you here with me, as my doomed queen while I feast upon you every night, leaving open wounds for me to drink from whenever I desire—“

With a newfound strength, you wrap your legs around his waist tightly and flip him over until his head hits the stone floor and you free yourself from his grip.

Now with you on top, you take the lead, riding his cock as best as you can. Hands spread on his covered chest while you rock your hips front and back, moaning like a harlot in heat as you bring both of you to the edge of euphoria.

He falls apart first; the sight of you on top of him while half of your body is covered in blood is too much for him. It has been too long since he has had a woman bedding him, but now, with a sweet lamb like you trying to bring some pleasure to yourself by using him, he is a gone man.

He paints your insides white with his cum, and you lean back on his shin to make room for yourself, bouncing on top of him faster when suddenly you feel a dagger in his boots. 

The sudden revelation makes you climax right after him, your wetness gushing around his girth as you ride the centuries-old vampire to your pleasure while you pull the dagger out as best as you can with your entire body shaking in pleasure.

“Sweet lamb—“

His voice is lost when you stab him in the heart, not once, not twice, but five times, screaming and crying while you keep stabbing him until there is enough blood to bathe in, but even then, you do not stop. You slit his throat as well, and it is then that you feel his body soften and go limp completely.

You drop the bloodied dagger and try to move, completely pulling yourself away from his body as he bleeds out and his seed drips out of your sensitive cunt.

You took your revenge, now all you can do is hope for his seed to rot and die inside of you, or you will have to bear the offspring of a dead vampire legacy.