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juleswritesstuff · 7 months ago

Text

Pieces

Just Theo losing his mind over a tiny, little dress

theo nott x fem!reader

warnings: smut (this one's filthy, y'all)

The music blasting through the Slytherin common room was not only filling your ears, but your whole body too. It was running through your veins, every muscle and nerve consumed by the slow rhythm of the bass.

You were moving to the beat without a care in the world, lost in the flow, surrounded by warm bodies moving along the same melody.

Until a pair of hands found place on your hips, a presence making itself known behind you as your back collided with his chest.

You would've recognized that scent everywhere. A smirk grew on your lips.

Bingo.

“Are you trying to kill me, bambolina ?” his smooth voice reached your ears through the loud banging of some song you didn't quite recognize. (babydoll)

His hands were scorching hot on your hips, feeling them through the flimsy fabric of your dress. The way they wanted to touch, to feel, to own.

The grin on your lips widened.

Oh, he was so easy to tease.

You turned around, meeting his eyes. Their usual sky blue had become deeper, a storm in full swing. They were dark, hungry, and yet you could still find that glint of cockiness that never left his gaze.

Theodore Nott was as beautiful as he was devilish.

Good thing you knew how to take him. Metaphorically and physically speaking.

“Don't know what you're talking about” you said, swaying your hips to the sultry rhythm and morphing your expression to one of fake cluelessness.

“Really ? I'm pretty sure you do” the grin on his face was teasing but you could see the light clench of his jaw.

Trying to keep it cool, to keep control.

Unfortunately for him his eyes scanning every inch of your body betrayed him and his illusion of a collected behavior.

“You don't like my dress ?” you asked, getting closer and circling his neck with your arms.

His hands were on your back, traveling up and down, tracing your skin through the fabric, memorizing every nook and curve of your body.

A shiver ran down your spine as he pulled you closer to him, chest to chest.

“You have the nerve to ask me that ?” he uttered, cocking an eyebrow in disbelief.

A chuckle left your lips.

“You sound so affronted, Nott” your hand slipped through his hair, combing them lightly while your bodies kept swaying to the music.

He closed his eyes in bliss, feeling your gentle fingers brush through his brown locks.

And then you pulled. A bit harsher, a bit rougher. Exactly how he liked it.

Theo groaned, his eyes snapping open as the grip on your hips became tighter.

His forehead touched yours as he leaned closer and closer.

“Oh, you want to play with fire I see” he breathed mere inches away from your lips.

“Maybe I do” you grinned, your tone challenging.

“And what happened to ‘I wouldn't touch you even if you were the last man on earth’, dolcezza ?” he asked teasingly, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. (sweety)

Your cheeks warmed up the slightest bit.

Yes, you and Theo hadn’t started off in the best of ways.

But things changed.

Especially after the most completely unexpected and undoubtedly best fuck of your life, courtesy of a very heated arguement between the two of you that ended with him buried deep inside of you while you basically chanted his name like a prayer.

You wished you could say it was a one time thing, a mistake.

But it wasn’t.

Because soon you found out that no one made you feel better than him.

Your body craved his touch, you couldn't help it.

“Well, I didn't know the wonders that your mouth and your cock were capable of at the time, can you really blame me ?” you asked back, lifting an eyebrow.

“So that's why you chose the tiniest, sexiest dress you own ? Cause you wanted to get your guts rearranged ?” he teased with a shit-eating smirk.

“Who knows” you shrugged your shoulders as a smug smile grew on your lips.

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

“You'll be the death of me, bambolina” he mouthed right on your lips before leaning in. (babydoll)

And, fuck, that felt both like heaven and hell.

His mouth was soft and rough at the same time. Hungry, needy, pure fire that was consuming you. The taste of nicotine and alcohol mixed with a sweetness that you couldn't quite pinpoint, but it was there. And it was addicting.

You wanted more. You always wanted more when Theo was involved.

His tongue teased yours, playing his dirty little games.

Your mind went blank.

“Your room or mine ?” you asked, millimeters away from his lips.

“Whichever is the closest, I don't care” he said hurriedly “Non vedo l'ora di strapparti questo cazzo di vestito di dosso” (I can't wait to rip this fucking dress off of you)

You didn't understand a single thing of the Italian coming out of his mouth as he was busy leaving a trail of eager kisses down your neck, going so slow that your brain started to melt.

You had no idea of how you managed to arrive at your dorm, too engrossed in the feeling of having him so close to you.

But now there you were.

The door closed with a click, and after a second you felt him everywhere.

His hands in your hair, on your face, your neck, hips, thighs. Fucking everywhere.

Your back collided with the wall as he kissed you like he needed air and you were pure oxygen filling his lungs.

“You’re a vixen, you know that ?” he whispered “making me lose my fucking mind moving your hips like that”

His lips were still on yours, his hands kneading the plush skin of your ass, making you hiss in pleasure.

“Didn’t know I only needed a dress to make you go ballistic, Nott” you muttered with a chuckle as he decorated your throat with slow, wet kisses.

“I couldn’t give less than a shit about the dress, Y/n. You are the one making me go fucking feral, not this stupid piece of fabric” he groaned against your skin.

“Then rip it the fuck off of me, why don’t you ?” you said, whimpers leaving your mouth as Theo found the most sensitive spot on your neck, starting to tease it with his tongue, his teeth and that sinful mouth of his.

You felt his smirk right on your skin.

“As you wish, bambolina”

In a heartbeat you heard cloth being torn, shredded to pieces.

The air suddenly hitting your skin made goosebumps appear all over your body.

Your eyes snapped to his. The fire in them almost burned you, matching your own.

Lust and hunger filled every cell of your being, seeing the poor dress resting in pieces on the floor.

Because Theo had literally ripped it off.

You didn’t think this man could get any hotter. Guessed you were fucking wrong.

“Cazzo, sei una visione Y/n'' he whispered breathlessly. (Fuck, you're a vision Y/n)

His eyes ran all over your figure, taking in every curve, every inch of your body, imprinting it in his memory forever.

Then he began his journey of torture.

He started with his lips on yours, nibbling and sucking slowly, seductively, proceeding along your jaw, traveling down and reaching your neck, kissing the skin that was already turning a dark red from his previous attentions.

He stopped briefly at your shoulder, delicately removing your bra as the pads of his fingers brushed your skin tenderly.

He left his marks all over you.

On your shoulder, your collarbones, on your breasts teasing your sensitive nipples with his tongue before sucking gently, grazing them with his teeth and sending bolts of electricity throughout your entire body.

His lips were soft, but they left a burning path everywhere they touched.

Moans and whimpers left your mouth with each and every caress of his skin on yours.

He kept giving attention to every single centimeter of your figure, going down and down until he sank on his knees.

The sight of him kneeling in front of you with that deep, dark look in his eyes turned you on like nothing ever did before.

“This might be my favorite angle of you, you know ?” you confessed, your fingers combing through his brown waves.

You felt him grin against your hip bone, kissing it right after.

“Is it ?” his tone was teasing, playful, as he traced your skin with his lips “when I’m on my knees ?” another kiss lingered on your hip “right at your mercy ?”

“Shit- yeah” you choked out a whimper as his mouth got closer and closer to your core.

The grip on his hair tightened and he let out a deep moan.

“Well, that’s good to know, princess” he said simply “cause this is my favorite place to be. Right between your thighs” and then he left a soft kiss directly on your clothed heat before sliding your panties down your legs.

A needy moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“You're perfect. You're so fucking perfect” he whispered in awe, completely drunk on the sight of your naked body.

“Theo…” you whined.

“Yes, baby ?”

Fuck, that word made your stomach churn in the best way possible.

“Just fucking get to it” you said urgently.

A cocky smile appeared on his face as he started to slowly get up, placing kisses here and there, making his journey back to your lips.

You whined, missing the feeling of his mouth lingering on your most sensitive spot.

“You’re needy” he whispered in your ear, making you shiver.

“You’re torturing me” you bit back, breathless and impertinent.

“Oh, so you can tease me in front of our whole House, but I can’t have my little fun when it’s just us ? Seems a bit unfair, tesoro” he mocked you lightheartedly with the most irritatingly hot smirk. (darling)

“Wipe that smug little smile off your face Nott, I can't stand it” you said, the annoyance in your tone as clear as the lust in it, too.

“Can’t stand it ?” he asked sensually, his breath tickling your ear before looking you in the eyes with that sinful grin that made you go feral “then why don’t you sit on it, bambolina”

His gaze was dark, the blue of his eyes completely swallowed up by blackness.

The breath got knocked out of your lungs. Hot liquid desire filled your veins.

Your entire body was consumed by him, every single cell screaming his name.

And who were you not to listen ?

“Lay down then” you said with a devilish grin, pushing him backwards until his knees hit the bed frame, forcing him to sit down.

You wasted no time and straddled his hips, your naked body flashed aginst his still clothed one.

“Fucking hell” he mumbled on your mouth as you dived in to kiss him hungrily, tongue brushing his in a filthy dance.

His hands gripped your lower back so tightly you were sure there would’ve been bruises in the shape of his handprints the following day.

And you couldn’t wait to fucking see them.

“Something wrong, pretty boy ?” you taunted, coating his neck with kisses, swiping your tongue over the skin and making him groan in pleasure.

“I have you naked on my lap, Y/n, nothing could be more right” he said, looking at you directly in the eyes with a smile and his usual cocky attitude.

“Why don’t you take off some clothes too, mh ?” you muttered, breaths away from his lips "Preferably all of them"

“Get rid of them, then” he answered you with a challenging glint in his deep blue eyes, and a sardonic smile.

You smirked, fisting both sides of his shirt and pulling harshly.

Buttons flew everywhere as you ripped the shirt open, finally exposing his perfectly chiseled chest to your eyes. Your hands ran all over his torso, tracing every hard and soft surface with fleeting touches.

God, Quidditch practice really had its benefits.

“Now we’re even” you said, kissing his lips again, referring to the dress he had shredded to pieces not too long ago.

Then your fingers traveled down, reaching the hem of his pants and brushing his half hard cock playfully through the fabric.

He hissed in pleasure, but as soon as you tried to unbutton them he stopped you.

“That can wait, baby. I need to taste you first” he purred in your ear before laying down completely, his back colliding with the soft mattress of your bed.

“Impatient, are we ?” you mocked him lightheartedly, but as soon as you felt his hands on lower back, massaging the soft skin, urging you to crawl on his body and come closer until your core was right in front of him, glistening with desire, the smile on your face was replaced by a moan.

“When it comes to you ? Always” he smiled, leaving a trail of steamy, open mouthed kisses on the tender skin of your inner thighs.

A pathetic sob left your throat.

He was going so achingly slow you were starting to lose your goddamn mind.

“Seems to me that you’re taking your sweet fucking time, instead” you snapped impetuously.

He was teasing you mercilessly, and you couldn’t stand it.

“I’ll take all the time I need if it means that I get to see you being a needy mess before my tongue even touches you” he sneered against your skin, mouth getting closer and closer to where you needed it the most, but never close enough.

“Theo, please” you cried as your hands swiped through his brown locks, spread on the pillow like a halo, eliciting him to do something, anything to give you at least some sweet relief.

“Sei così bella, cazzo” he whispered as his eyes shined with an earnestness that you had never seen in them “e sei tutta per me”. (You're so beautiful, fuck)(and you're all mine)

And then finally, finally he stuck his tongue out dragging it over your folds to get a long awaited taste.

The groan that came out of his mouth sent delicious vibrations to your clit, making your whole body squirm.

“Oh fuck” you moaned as he started to devour you messily.

He ate you out like he had been starving for weeks and you were his first meal, like he was born for it and his place was right there, between your legs. He licked and kissed and sucked all over your sensitive core, pleasuring you like no one else ever could, making you feel everything.

You writhed above him.

Loud, shaky whines left your lips as he made out with your cunt shamelessly and sloppy, coating his face with your essence and feasting hungrily.

When his lips wrapped around your clit you whailed.

The whole castle probably heared you even through the music of the party that was taking place downstairs, but you couldn’t care less.

Because Theo was beneath you, eating you out so perfectly and filthily that all you could think about was his mouth on you.

“So sweet. You taste so sweet, Y/n” he said right against your throbbing core, making you shiver. Your hands on his hair tightened their grip, using it as leverage to move your hips back and forth faster, desperately.

“Theo- shit, baby-” you couldn’t even talk.

You were close. You were so close that you felt the familiar tension building up, ready to explode.

And apparently he did too, because his mouth started to work faster, licking and lapping at an unforgiving pace.

“Go ahead, baby. Make a mess on my face” he wrapped his lips around your clit one more time and he sucked, sending you over the edge.

The coil in your tummy snapped, your vision turning white as waves of pleasure washed all over you, making your ears ring and your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

The moans coming out of your mouth were dirty, raw.

The movement of your hips slowed down as Theo kept dragging his tongue over your folds slowly, carefully, licking you clean and paying attention not to overstimulate you, but not letting even one single drop of your sweet essence go to waste.

Once you got down from your high and your brain started to regain its ability to form coherent words you shifted your gaze downwards, finding Theo looking at you while his hands caressed your legs tenderly.

“There you are. I thought I broke you for a second” he smiled, teasing lightheartedly.

You huffed a sneer as you crawled backwards with shaky legs, going back to straddle his hips rather than his face.

“Don't get too confident, Nott. It's not a good look” you bit back with a smile that matched his.

A chuckle left his lips as he lifted his torso to sit up, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

He kissed you softly, delicately, making your stomach flip.

“Everything ok ?” he asked on your lips while he tucked a rogue strand of hair behind your ear, stroking your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.

And there it was, the thing that made you so confused about Theodore Nott.

It was in moments like these when you forgot that the guy in front of you, who gave you the best head of your life and was an actual fucking excellent lover was the same guy you used to have daily insulting sessions with.

Muggles had a saying, you heard.

‘There's a thin line between hate and love’

And you were sure that that line had been all kinds of blurry since Theo had put his lips on you for the first time.

Or, maybe, even before. You didn't want to think about it.

The possibilities of that revelation being true made your stomach knot up.

So you put them to the side, and focused back on him.

“Yes” you answered, your fingers buried in the hair at the base of his neck, massaging reassuringly “I’m ok. More than ok, even”

“How about your legs ?” he asked, placing soft kisses on your shoulder.

“Is this some new way to ask me if I still have some remaining strength to ride you ?” you teased, narrowing your eyes mischievously.

“Would you believe me if I said it isn't ?” he questioned playfully, lifting an eyebrow and tightening his embrace on you.

“Not really, no” you said unconvinced, your face opened up in a smile.

“Guessed so” he shook his head in amusement, his eyes glinting in the dim light of your room.

“Unfortunately for you my legs are sore, so no riding” you admitted, your smile turning smug “but that doesn't mean that you can't fuck me in any other position know to man”

His hands on your hips tightened their grip.

“Is that so ?” he taunted, his eyes turning hungry again, the fire in them reaching the deepest parts of your soul “then tell me bambolina, how would you like me to take you apart tonight ?”

“However you want” you smirked, leaning in to kiss him again, swiping your tongue on his lower lip before biting the plump skin provocatively “go ahead pretty boy, make me cry on your cock”

His eyes got impossibly darker, hungrier. Ravenous.

“Then get on all fours for me, princess” he rumbled lowly, looking at you like he wanted to devour you whole.

You wasted no time as you kept your mouth glued to his, getting off his lap and flipping your positions. You crawled backwards a little, Theo following you as he chased your lips until you were completely laying down with him above you.

His hands caressed your hips, moving down to trace the skin of your thigh, making goosebumps appear all over your body.

Your fingers traveled everywhere, feeling the heated skin against your pads. They caressed his chest, his shoulders, his back, until they reached the hem of his pants, unbuttoning them with a swift move.

“Impatient, are we ?” he teased you, using your own words against you.

His lips latched to your neck, one hand on the mattress holding his weight and the other sliding his trousers down together with his underwear.

“Less talking and more undressing, Nott” you urged as your hands went to his hair, massaging his scalp, making him groan.

He pulled away from you just enough to take away his pants completely, leaving him naked.

Your eyes took in his perfectly sculpted lean body, and you clenched your legs unconsciously at the sight of his hard cock.

He didn't say anything to you eyeing him up like you wanted to swallow him whole, he just smirked. But the look in his eyes told you that he knew every naughty little thought you were having in that moment.

Your cheeks heated up, and you turned around facing the mattress propped up on your elbows, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you that flustered.

You had seen him naked countless times, and yet his body still had that maddening effect on you.

The bed dipped with every move he made, getting closer to you again, until you felt his breath on your ear, chuckling.

“Going shy on me now, tesoro ?” he asked playfully, leaving a kiss on that sensitive spot that made you squirm. (darling)

“Shut up” you said weakly, completely overwhelmed by the feeling of his mouth leaving a path of steamy kisses along your back, causing your whole body to shiver in pleasure.

He stopped right over the little dimples on your lower back, kissing them tenderly.

“Ready ?” he asked to make sure.

You didn't answer him, you just lifted your ass up, bending your knees and arching your back in the most sinful way you could master.

“Ready” you confirmed with a smug smile, hearing him groan in pleasure.

You turned your head a little, enough to see him stroking his cock at the sight of your exposed cunt, right at his mercy.

“You and your perfect body will be the death of me” you hear him whisper before feeling his hands on your ass.

His tip teasing your entrance made you moan pathetically.

He went slow, so achingly slow that you wanted to cry, feeling him burying himself deeper and deeper inside of you, inch by inch. Until he bottomed out completely, head to base, filling you up so good that you wanted to scream.

“Fuck-” you moaned “fuck, fuck, fuck” broken sobs left your lips as you felt him throbbing inside of you.

“Shit- baby, you're tight” he said through gritted teeth, feeling your warmth around him and trying so hard not to cum on the spot, hearing all the filthy sounds you were making.

“Move” you practically begged “Theo, please. Just move”

As soon as the words left your mouth his hips started to thrust, setting a slow and steady pace, making you adjust to his size without hurting you.

The head of his cock brushed your cervix with every prod, sending bolts of electricity to every nerve of your body.

But it wasn't enough.

You wanted more. You needed more.

“Harder” you blurted, half begging and half demanding “I'm not gonna break, Theo. Fuck me. Harder”

Not a word left his mouth, but suddenly you saw stars. His hips snapped ruthlessly inside of you, knocking the air out of your lungs, making you scream his name.

You buried your face in the pillows, trying to muffle the sound of your wails. But then you felt Theo’s chest colliding with your back and his arms around your torso, pulling your upper body up with him while he still fucked into you mercilessly.

“Voglio sentirti” he whispered in your ear, breath rugged and broken by the intensity of his hips plunging inside of you “voglio che l'intero cazzo di castello sappia chi è che ti scopa così bene” (I want to hear you)(I want the whole castle to know who's fucking you this good)

You didn't understand a single word coming out of his mouth, but you knew it had nothing to do with the language he was using and everything to do with his cock splitting you in half.

Your body was on fire, every muscle and nerve consumed by pleasure, corroded by lust.

You were close again.

Your arm reached behind you, pulling Theo’s head closer.

The position was awkward, making the kiss even more filthy, a mess of tongues and teeth.

“God- Theo, I'm close” you moaned against his mouth.

One hand holding your body flashed against his, the other going to tease your clit with slender fingers.

You were right there, his fingers drawing circles on that little bundle of nerves faster and faster.

“Cum for me, bambolina” was what he whispered in your ear, his breath tickling your skin as your orgasm hit you.

The world stopped, every single thing ceased to exist except for the exploding pleasure in your veins and the feeling of Theo’s heated and sweaty skin on yours.

The clench of your cunt squeezing his cock sent him over the edge too, painting your walls white while a strangled moan escaped his lips.

Getting down from your high you collapsed on the bed.

With your breath labored and short, your body numb and your head in the clouds you placed your head on Theo's chest as his arm wrapped around you.

Was it weird to cuddle with the guy who used to get on your nerves more than anything else ? Most definitely.

Was it also weird to fuck said guy and wanting to sometime still punch his ridiculously handsome face at the same time ? Absolutely.

Did you care ? Not one bit.

“You owe me a shirt” he blurted out after his breath turned back to normal again, stroking your hair absent-mindedly.

“You owe me a dress” you retorted back, feeling his heartbeat slowing down right under your ear.

“Shopping at Hogsmeade next weekend ?” he asked nonchalantly, like he hadn't just dropped a bomb on you.

Your eyes widened beyond measure.

“Pardon ?” your voice went several tones higher than usual, in complete disbelief from the words that had just reached your ears.

“Calm down, bambolina. No need to get all flustered” he chuckled, but rather than mocking it seemed endeared “you'll buy me a new shirt and I'll buy you a new dress. Deal ?”

You had no idea what to answer.

But in the end you accepted.

“Deal”

It wouldn't be weird...right ?

He lives in my mind rent free, I can't help it.

Hope you enjoyed 💗

#harry potter #harry potter smut #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #theo nott #theo nott smut #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #mattheo riddle #tom riddle #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #lorenzo berkshire

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scaryanneee · 2 months ago

Text

Veilguard cut content that made me lol

update: apparently all of these are in-game (thank you commenters) and i just missed them. 🫣 but, in case you missed them too:

Since the Varric letter made everyone sad - here are some more of my favorite finds after spending literal hours combing through Frosty Editor. Funny edition.

Behold, what was lost:

naked ghilan'nain?!

2. bran (update: I have been informed that this one is actually in game, I just missed it!)

3. the Randy Dowager is only part of Solas' erotica collection, apparently

anyway, more to come soon!

#veilguard spoilers #technically #solas #dragon age #dragon age veilguard #solas dragon age

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myfictionaldreams · 22 days ago

Note

For a request do you think you could write poly!marauders and how they would deal with James or Siri dropping into subspace or drop?

Prong's Day // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

Summary: James was having one of the best days of his life, and what better way to celebrate it than in the arms of the ones he loves?

Requested by: Thank you for the request, my love! I hope you like it!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, angst, subspace, subdrop, sub!james (baby boy), dom!sirius, dom!remus, sub!reader, comfort, oral (f / m receiving), orgasm denial, aftercare

Words: 2.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The crowd's roar was almost deafening as James Potter, with a shit-eating grin and all, lifted his fist in the air, displaying the golden snitch he had just caught. The quidditch seeker circled the pitch on his broom, as proud as ever as he savoured every second of the never-ending cheering.

“Potter!” screamed someone from his left. Before he had time to brace for impact, multiple of his fellow Gryffindor quidditch players had tackled him midair. It was a miracle they all managed to stay on the broom. “We won! We won!”

The infamous game against Slytherin had been won; they hadn’t even won the Quidditch Cup yet. However, Gryffindor had been on a losing streak against Slytherin over the last three years, so the excitement from the Gryffindor team was much deserved.

Your throat burned from the effort of screaming so loud. You couldn’t be more proud of James and Sirius as they continued to celebrate in the air. You were squished thoroughly amongst the crowd, being pulled from one jumping hug to another.

“Come one, let’s go down there!” Remus had to yell so that you could even hear him. Thankfully, he was taller than most, and you were able to spot him amongst your group of friends. “Grab my hand.” You did, holding on for dear life as he eased the two of you through the crowd until you were in the stairwell. It seemed everyone else had a similar idea as masses of people followed after the two of you to storm the pitch and celebrate with the team.

It took some time to find him, but soon, you’re in James' warm, crushing hug, screaming your congratulations into his ear. You’re breathless by the time you can repeat the sentiment with Sirius, whose hair was becoming loose from the low bun he’d pulled it into.

James is then collectively lifted into the air by his fellow quidditch team. It was the most fun you’d had in months as the celebrations continued as the party converged in the Gryffindor common room for the after-party. It was so loud and obnoxious that you were surprised that Professor McGonagall hadn’t shut it down, but from the whispers amongst the party-goes, she was partying just as hard in Hogsmeade.

The night soon came upon you as the music and joy had everyone in great spirits. As the clock struck midnight, you stumbled upon James, red and gold lions pained on his face and eyes drooping with exhaustion. In his current position, you would have felt the same level of comfort as he was sitting sideways on Remus’ lap in an armchair by the fire as his boyfriend whispered into his ear.

“Did someone party too hard?” you ask quietly, trying not to disturb James, but he still looks up at you with a goofy grin.

“Nope”, James responds whilst putting emphasis on the ‘P’. Resting against the arm of the chair, you began to comb your fingers through his untameable hair, finding the strands surprisingly soft as James’ eyes closed in contentment.

Smiling softly at his handsome face, your eyes darted to Remus who was also watching with adoration, his hands running up and down James' legs. “I was just telling Prongs how proud I am of him, " Remus explains, giving you a subtle wink. A hint of rosy blush deepened over James' face as he nuzzled into his boyfriend's neck. You’d noticed James's signs of neediness from the moment he was wrapped in a hug on the pitch.

It wasn’t often that James naturally became submissive, but when he did, your heart melted at how soft he became and how much you wanted to care for him. “I’m proud of you, too. I can’t believe how quickly you won the match for everyone. It was incredible!” You gave your own praise to James while continuing to massage his scalp gently.

“Thank you, " he mumbled, still hiding his face in Remus’ neck.

Leaning down to kiss the back of his head, you moved away, “I’ll leave you two to have some boyfriend time together”. Mostly, you just knew how rewarding it was to be in this headspace and to have Remus doting after you, wanting James to have some one-on-one time. As much as the boys could be dominant in their own ways, Remus was a caretaker and a giver, always craving to be praised and looked after by his submissives while remaining in charge.

However, a firm hand suddenly held onto your wrist as James partially sat up, “Wait, don’t go. I want you to be here too”. Now that he was properly looking you in the eye, you could see how glassy-eyed he appeared, realising that not only was James relaxed and content but when he was like this, it usually meant he was in some kind of subspace, whether it be in a sexual way or just needing to be touched and cared for.

Crouching down so you were closer to James, your hands rested against his chest, feeling the excitable thumping of his heart. “Yeah, you want me to stay?” James nods tiredly, head relaxing against Remus’ shoulder. “Where exactly do you want me to be?”

Your fingers lowered to skim over his calves, intending to stroke against Remus’ fingers, who clutched yours, squeezing reassuringly. You were submissive down to your very core. However, when James was like this, you needed to appear more confident and dominant just to make sure that he felt like he was being cared for and also to take away the pressure from James to care for you so he could enjoy the experience completely.

James' hand cups your face, pulling you closer until your lips hover over his. “You know where I want you”.

Kissing him slowly, you couldn’t help but moan and lean completely into him, even if the position was awkward with Remus being squished beneath, but he never complained. James’ face tilted, his mouth opening eagerly as your tongue slipped and pressed against his. He tasted sweet and oh-so addictive.

From the deep groans and the way he was clutching onto your face, he was enjoying it just as much as you were. Easing back onto your knees to catch your breath, you continued to push his black floppy hair away from his forehead as he slowly opened his eyes and asked, “Please sit on my face”.

The burst of laughter that escaped you was not meant to be as loud as it was as people around the room looked over curiously. You try to reassure him by covering your mouth as James’ blush deepens.

“I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to be that loud. I don’t think we can do that before all these people.”

Before you can comprehend the sudden movement, James is out of his seat and pulling you toward the dormitory stairs. As you pass another group of friends, you hear Sirius bellow, “Hey, where are you all going? I want to come!”

You couldn’t help but snort at the lingering innuendo, shouting, “Follow us then!” You’d never chased up the stairs so quickly before, feeling breathless by the time you’d made it to the boy's dorm.

James swung the door open and sprinted for the magically sized bed, enthusiastically jumping into the centre. He did not appear as out of breath as you and flashed you another grin. “Come and sit on my face,” he said.

With how keen he seemed, you were already soaked and throbbing with need as you reached beneath your skirt and eased your damp underwear down your legs, kicking them off. “Where are your manners?” You jest whilst beginning to crawl on the bed, half away from where Remus and Sirius had also joined the room.

“Now, this is my kinda party”, Sirius cheers whilst locking the dorm door and then moving around the bed to join James on his other side. For a second, you admired Sirius, immediately taking control by gripping James's jaw and kissing him deeply.

James emerged from the kiss even more starry-eyed than before, his gaze returning to you. “Sorry. Please come and sit on my face. Smother me, my love.”

Your cheeks warm at the crudeness of his words, but not stopping as you crawl onto the bed. Sirius’s hands are on you in a second, but only to give you some help as you straddle over James’ chest whilst leaning on Sirius so you don’t topple over.

James hands then settle on your thighs underneath your skirt, pulling on them until you’re pussy is well and truly smushed against his mouth. That man, are you out with all the enthusiasm of when he’d first caught the snitch as his face was now completely covered by your body and skirt.

His tongue licked you from asshole to clit, pushing as deep as he could into your clenching cunt, drinking every last drop of your arousal before sucking on your clit in harsh pulses. Your hips were bucking and grinding on his face to a point you weren’t entirely sure how he was breathing, but not for one second did James move you off. He held you down firmly, moaning and savouring every second.

Sirius mainly had to hold you up as you cried out. Even more so when, over your shoulder, you watched Remus undoing James’ belt, pulling his trousers and boxers down until his cock was exposed. The entire length disappeared down Remus’ throat as he greedily sucked on James.

The response of groans vibrated against your clit, causing your eyes to roll back, chasing that high that was so very close. Sirius captures your screams as you orgasm by kissing you deeply. It was nearly overwhelming the need to please him, the pulsing waves of pleasure and trying not to completely squish James’ head between your thighs.

It takes you a couple of minutes to try and find your bearings whilst sucking in deep breaths of air as Sirius sits back to admire your face. With his help, you’re able to sit back and hover over James’ chest as he continues to be orally pleasured by Remus.

What you weren’t expecting was for James’ grip to tighten around your thighs and for him to pull your hips back to his face. “I wasn’t finished”, he growls desperately whilst trying to lift his head to push his tongue into your cunt.

Glancing tentatively at Sirius for help, you moved back again, pressing a hand against James’ forehead so he was forced to look up at you. “James, baby, I don’t think I can go again so quickly. I’m a little sensitive right now.” It's safe to say James looked a little heartbroken by this. For a moment, you were sure he was potentially too lost in his subspace, but thankfully, Sirius came to your rescue.

“If you want something to lick Prongs, I’ve got just the thing. Come on, Darling, sit back here and watch the fun”. Carefully holding onto Sirius, he helped you to sit back against the headboard, giving you another chaste kiss before unbuckling his belt.

James was just as eager for Sirius as you watched him kneeling next to the lying man and slowly thrust his cock into his mouth. There was nothing you found more highly erotic than watching your boyfriends kissing and touching one another as your fingers slipped beneath your skirt.

With each groan and slurp, your fingers circled your clit until you were designing against your own hand.

“Don’t cum”, Remus ordered, and at first, it was instinct to assume he was talking to you, but as you look down at James’ body towards the scarred man, you realise that his green eyes are entirely focused on the man who’s cock was in his mouth.

James tried to cry out but was muffled by Sirius’ member, still bobbing in and out of his mouth. You knew from the way his back was arching and fists clenching that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer, and it appears the others noticed this too as Sirius quickly came down James’ through. “That’s it, swallow it all. Good boy. Remember what Moony said, you can’t come yet”.

James swallowed everything Sirius gave him, but with his mouth now empty, he begged and begged to cum. “Please, I- I need to cum, I can’t hold it in”.

Sirius takes a moment to look you over and asks, “What do you think? Should we let him cum for being so good for us?” You were just opening your mouth to agree with Sirius when James suddenly cries out, eyes closing as he cums violently on Remus’ tongue.

The man moaned as much as James had as he, too, swallowed it all, looking pleased with James, not that James could see this as he continued to keep his eyes closed, his face a mixture of pain and pleasure. “I’m- I’m s-sorry, I tried, I re-really tried. I didn’t mean to”, James stuttered, his breathing coming out in quick rushes as he struggled to control himself.

It was clear to everyone else that James had become overwhelmed by it all, and as he was already in the neverending headspace with his submission, just like you would, he began to experience a subdrop. Before you could even reach for James, he was covering his face, trying to push away from both men and turning into the mattress beneath him.

“I’m sorry, I failed, I’m sorry”, he repeated repeatedly as he came close to hyperventilating. Your fingers delved into his thick hair, trying to calm him in any way possible.

“Baby, it’s okay. Listen to me, James. I don’t want you to talk; just take some deep breaths for us.” Your voice remains calm and reassuring.

James, though, continued to chant and hide himself away. Sirius now moves to kneel next to the bed so his face can be closer to James’. “James, Darling, I need you to listen to me carefull,y and you can’t do that if you’re shouting. That’s it. Take a deep breath for me through your nose and out through your mouth. You aren’t going to be punished, it’s ok that you came. I know today has been a lot for you; we shouldn’t have pushed you”.

It was then that you realised that James was worried that he’d be punished by Sirus or Remus for cumming without permission and why he was now experiencing a subdrop. Your main priority was making sure that James felt loved and safe.

“James, I love you; please turn over so we can look after you properly.” You tried to coax him while continuing to gently run over his head and the top of his back.

“Give him a little space, Love?” Remus’ calming yet authoritative voice asked as he moved up the bed. Sitting back with Sirius against the headboard once more, you watched as Remus, always the one to help the most in these situations, did what he did best, and that was to care.

Cupping the back of Remus, he was able also to wrestle his arm beneath James and lift him up, so he was now resting entirely against Remus’ chest. Rocking the two of them carefully, Remus continued to speak quietly to him. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to punish you tonight. I love you, and I need you to understand that. We just pushed you too fa,r like Sirius says, and we’re sorry for trying to edge you for so long. You’re safe; we love you and are still so proud of you.”

James’ breaths finally evened out to a slow, deep pace as he blinked up at Remus, who carefully removed his glasses so that he could wipe away the tears on James’ face. “How about we strip off, get under the sheets and cuddle for a bit? I know how much she wants to cuddle with you” Remus nods in your direction.

“Please, James, come cuddle with me”. After what feels like a lifetime, you’re rewarded with James's small but tired smile. All four of you begin to remove your clothing with your back resting against the pillows; James half lays his toned chest over your body until his face is innocently pressed against your breasts.

Kissing his temple gently, you ask, “Better?”

“Much better, thank you Love”. You can’t help but sigh at hearing him say those words and appear more like himself. Sirius then coaxes James to drink some water and then yourself, whilst Remus breaks off a couple of cubes of chocolate for each of you.

“I just want to say, " Sirius begins to say, getting comfortable beneath the blankets and reaching for James’ hand. “I’m really proud of you today; you kicked Slytherin's ass, and I don’t think we’re done giving you rewards for that, by the way. Get some sleep, and I want first dibs on kissing that pretty little arse of yours tomorrow, and you can cum as many times as you like”.

James grins against your breast, his chest shaking with a light laugh. Then he slows to a deep sleep, and you stay awake for a bit longer, enjoying holding him in your arms.

#poly!marauders #the marauders #poly!marauders x reader #the marauders x reader #james potter x reader #james potter #sirius black x reader #sirius black #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin

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deputyrook · 3 months ago

Text

18+ - Spite/Rook/Lucanis - Playing Cards

This was supposed to be a sweet romantic conversation where they define the throuple and it turned out to be... extremely filthy smut. Uh, sorry. And/or enjoy.

A03 Link. Female Rook. 18+ Spite/Rook and Spite/Rook/Lucanis. DAV spoilers.

---

"It's all right if you fall asleep, you know. Spite and I can... play cards or something," Rook brushes her fingers through Lucanis' hair, combing through it gently. He sighs, a satisfied, happy noise, but the corner of his lip tugs down.

"I do not think he wants to play cards," He murmurs quietly. Rook's hand stills in place. Cracking an eye open, Lucanis peers up at Rook, shifting and pushing himself up on an elbow.

"We haven't really talked about him. Whether he's okay with..." She gestures between them. Rook had taken the outburst of Spite's wings wrapping around them as a sign that Spite was at least fine with what was happening, if not particularly enthusiastic. Maybe she'd been wrong?

"Okay is one way to put it," Lucanis mutters with an annoyed huff. He's not meeting Rook's eyes, instead tracing circles on her inner thigh in a way that makes heat shoot up her spine. He'd just finished fucking her into her chaise- making love to her, really. Her legs will still weak from it, and already she can feel herself starting to ache for more.

Dangerous.

"Lucanis?" She asks tentatively, by way of seeking further explanation.

"He wants you, Rook. Has wanted you. For as long as I have," Lucanis lays back down on her thighs, closing his eyes, "And you know, I'd wanted you for a long time."

"How long?" She asks, teasing, because she has to know.

"Since we got coffee in Treviso," He answers, "Maybe since you entered the Ossurary, to be honest. But Maker, you made this little noise of pleasure when you took your first drink of that cioccolata calda that went right to my cock," Lucanis groans, just from the memory, and presses his fingers against Rook's hips. "I hadn't felt anything like that since well before I was locked up. It tore right through me. I wanted you then," his voice goes soft, "But it didn't take long before I realized that I wanted more than that, too."

Okay, hoo, stop getting distracted, Rook. "And... Spite?"

"He didn't know what it meant, at first. But he caught on quick," he sighs, "I was thinking about you a lot. About all the things I wanted to do to you. With you. Some of it bled over to him, I think."

Rook smiles at him, a careful, soft look. "So... Spite wants me too. Sexually. How do you feel about that?"

Lucanis groans, a different kind of noise from the one that he'd made only a few moments before. "How do I feel? How do you feel?" He pauses for a long moment, and Rook can only assume Spite is saying something in his ear. "Yes, yes. I know you wouldn't hurt her." Another long pause, and Lucanis adds a stern, "Hey."

"Ordinarily, I wouldn't consider having another... person in the relationship," She admits. This is unsteady ground, and she wants to be careful not to offend either Lucanis or Spite. She wants both of them to be alright with their relationship, and doesn't want either of them to feel hurt or left out. "But he does share your body, with no indication that'll change any time soon. There's a good possibility you'll be together for the rest of your life, Lucanis. So in a way, he'll have to be a part of the relationship... in some capacity, anyway."

She takes a moment to think. How does she feel about Spite? About Spite, wanting her? Embarrassingly, she finds the thought leaves her warm. How different would be be from Lucanis? She swallows.

Lucanis sits up fully then, moving to take his place on the chaise beside Rook. He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, cupping her face in his hands.

"When you were gone... Spite was devastated. I mean really torn up about it. I hadn't realized how much he liked you too- really liked you, until then," Lucanis seems to take a moment to collect his thoughts, "Ever since he pulled you into the fade to get you to deal with my- our issues, we've felt more like partners. If you're not averse- if the concept doesn't frighten you-"

"You have never frightened me," Rook says, looking him in his eyes, "Either of you."

Lucanis smiles then, relieved, and kisses her gently. When he pulls back, it's seems he's gathered the courage to finish his sentence.

"I don't mind sharing, if it's the three of us," He finishes, a little nervously, "I don't know exactly what it will mean..."

"But we can figure it out. Together." Rook smiles too then, taking his hands in hers and pressing another kiss against his mouth, slow and deep.

The kiss starts slow, but it doesn't stay that way. At first, the press of Lucanis' mouth against hers is languid, as though they have all the time in the world. And then, a shudder seems to run through Lucanis. And he is pushing forward, biting at Rook's lip in a way that makes her gasp in surprise.

Lucanis- no, Spite- seems to want to devour her. He hisses against her mouth, his kisses clumsy and demanding. Rook can barely breathe he's so insistent, licking into her mouth as his hands grab her hips and pull her body closer to him. Spite's eyes flash a brilliant violet, wings in a matching shade unfurling out from behind him.

"Wanted this," Spite groans against her mouth, biting at Rook's bottom lip in a way that makes her weak, "Wanted you."

"I wanted you too," She admits, and he moans, a broken noise of need.

"Smell so good. Like caramels and jasmine and Lucanis," He groans again, and the fact that Spite seems to not only be aroused by her, but by Lucanis as well, makes Rook's skin feel alight with heat.

"Are you going to take me, Spite?" She asks, her voice breathy with need as she wraps her arms around his neck, "Are you going to make me feel good? I want to make you feel good, too."

His lips press back to her skin, this time against the column of her neck. Where Lucanis had kissed with reverence, Spite bites and nips and sucks until Rook is twisting and moaning in his arms.

When Spite leans back slips a hand under the waistband of her panties, Rook realizes that she's still an absolute mess from her earlier round with Lucanis. Rook's cheeks burn as Spite drags two fingers along her slit, slicking them with both her and Lucanis' cum. When he pulls his hand back, he looks at his wet fingers with interest, his pupils blown wide and dark.

Grabbing his wrist, Rook raises the fingers to her mouth and drags her tongue along the digits, licking them clean. She pops his fingers into her mouth, sucking at them and moaning around his hand, keeping her eyes locked on Spite's the whole time. He shudders, taking his other hand and dragging it down the back of Rook's head in a strangely gentle gesture.

When Rook draws the fingers out of her mouth, Spite uses his free hand to yank her underwear down and pull it off of her. He is already so hard- despite her and Lucanis having finished not that long ago, Rook notes- and with a fluid motion, he presses his two fingers back to Rook's cunt. The fingers enter her easily, as wet as she is, and push Lucanis' cum deeper insider of her. With a surprisingly careful motion, he pumps his fingers into her, curling them inside as he'd watched Lucanis do earlier in the evening.

Rook whimpers, a high keening sound, and Spite tilts his head in interest at the noise. This time, when he withdraws his hand, he brings it to his own lips. Keeping eye contact as she had with him, he sticks his own fingers into his mouth, sighing in pleasure around them as he tastes both Lucanis and Rook together.

"More," He groans. Before Rook can even fully register what he's doing, Spite has laid on his stomach and settled himself between her legs, and is licking a long line down the length of her cunt. She nearly squeals, the sensation so hot and her body so oversensitive, and Spite huffs out a laugh in response against her skin.

"Going to want to taste you. Forever," He moans against her cunt, wrapping his arms around her legs to keep them splayed open for him. He buries his face between her thighs, mouthing against her cunt like he really is trying to devour her.

The sensation is almost too much. If not for Spite holding her legs in place to keep her from squirming, she'd be writhing against his mouth. Holding her as he is, his mouth is an onslaught against her, a torrent of pleasure she has no respite from, that has her quickly approaching orgasm.

"Spiteeee," Rook whines, "Fuck me, fuck me, please."

"No," Spite responds, grinning against her skin, "Later. Want this. Taste."

He returns to eating her out, his nose nudging against her clit back and forth, and Rook can't help it. She presses against his face desperately, and when she notices that Spite is grinding his pelvis against the chaise, too horny and turned on just from eating her cunt to stop himself from rutting against it-

She comes with a cry, throwing her head back as the orgasm rockets through her. It shivers through her body, leaving her feeling boneless and satisfied, and Spite watches her come undone with no small amount of pride.

"Now," He says, still grinning as he pulls back, his eyes hungry with need as they rake over her body. "Now?"

"Please," Rook repeats, opening her thighs to him, and beckoning him forward.

Spite's hands fly to his pants, but despite the lack of a belt, he seems to struggle with undoing the fly and button. For just a second, Spite's frustration gives way to amusement, as more assured hands deftly and confidently undo the pants.

"There you go," Lucanis groans, sliding his pants and underwear down his hips. His cock, already red and leaking and so hard, springs out. "You know, I really underestimated how hot it would be to watch him make you come. You are such a mess."

"Fuck, I know," Rook whimpers, reaching out, "Come on, please."

Lucanis chuckles, before violet once again overtakes the colour of his irises. Spite growls, crawling up over Rook, until his cock is flush against her cunt. Unable to stop himself, he slides it against her folds, teasing her by grinding his cock against her cunt without entering her.

"Oh, Maker-" Rook groans, rocking her hips up. His cock is slick with her now, and strands of hair wet with sweat from exertion fall onto his forehead. Finally then, he presses against he entrance, and pushes in, drawing out a long, broken cry from Rook.

"Yes," Spite groans out, "Yes, yes! So good."

Unlike Lucanis had, Spite doesn't wait until she's used to the stretch of his cock to start moving, or take things slow. But at this point, Rook doesn't need him to. What she wants is to be fucked within an inch of her life, and Spite seems to read her mind.

As soon as he's fully inside of her, he pulls out almost all of the way, and then snaps his hips, driving his cock back inside of her. He fucks her deep, his hands on her hips, keeping her in place.

The sounds coming out of Rook's mouth are entirely outside of her control. She doesn't even know entirely what she's saying at this point. She's keening, whimpering out the words, "Yes" and "Spite" and "Pleasepleaseplease." Everything she's worried about, everything that could happen the next day, seems a million miles away. Here, she's able to fall apart completely.

After one particularly loud moan, Spite pulls out, flips her onto her stomach far too easily, and enters her from behind.

Rook presses her face into her pillow, muffling a guttural sound pulled from her lips. From behind, she feels Spite grab a fistful of her hair, pulling her head up.

"No. Want to hear you," He grunts, rutting back into her. She gasps, her cunt clenching around his cock, so close to coming again as he fucks her into her chaise. She can tell he's close himself by the stutter of his hips, and the way that words begin to slip from his lips. Snaking a hand to her clit, she grinds forward against her fingers.

"Mine," He breathes, punctuating the word with a thrust. "Mine, mine. Ours."

And with that word- the feeling of her hair, wrenched in Spite's grip, his body leaning over hers, and his cock pressing so deep inside of her- Rook comes for a second time. Spite follows her, spilling into her with a surprised gasp and a long groan.

She collapses onto the chaise, face down, and Spite lays heavy across her back.

"You're heavy," She complains after a long moment. Spite makes a noncommittal noise, and doesn't move.

But then, with a sigh, Spite rolls off of her. It takes Rook a second to realize that Lucanis is back in control, as he reaches out to smooth down her hair where Spite had grabbed.

"That was good?" He asks, a bit tentative. Rook turns and looks at Lucanis, a complete, bleary eyed mess.

"Yeah. But if you ask for a turn now, my legs might give out completely," She answers with a lazy grin. Lucanis grins back at her, eyes shining with affection.

"Just a kiss, then?" He asks, and Maker, Rook could never deny him. Pushing herself up, she kisses him softly, and he sighs against her mouth, contented.

"You think he liked it?" Rook asks, and Lucanis rolls his eyes.

"If he hadn't fallen asleep immediately after finishing, I think he'd be back in between your thighs right now. I'm pretty sure that if you hadn't been more insistent he fuck you, he'd have stayed there until I couldn't speak the next morning." Lucanis rubs circles into Rook's back, and with a soft chuckle, they both settle back onto the chaise. Rook yawns, pressing her head against Lucanis' chest.

"I think I might sleep through the final fight tomorrow. This is too comfortable. Sorry, Minrathous," She mumbles, already feeling her eyelids droop.

Lucanis laughs, and she can feel the rumble of it as she lays on his chest.

"Tomorrow night, we will all be back here again. I will kill a God to ensure it. Multiple, if I must," He whispers, before they drift off to sleep.

#spite dragon age #rook x spite #rook x lucanis #lucanis dellamorte #lucanis x rook #lucanis x spite #dragon age #dav spoilers #dav #dragon age the veilguard #da: the veilguard #i have no idea if this is in character im so sorry #my writing

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helluvapoison · 1 year ago

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I just read your Lucifer ABC's and the idea of him knowing everything about reader, but also needing words of afirmation just gave me an idea. Just imagine Lucifer truly asking to be tested about how much he knows reader, and they just start asking "Who is the person that i love most?" "Who makes my heart flutter and beat so loud even heaven could hear it?" "Who lives in my head rent free that even while dreaming he's there making everything brighter?". Lucifer would crumble.

I cant take this image from mi mind, please honey, show me the sweet baby crumble.

The Answer

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

“C’mon!”

Lucifer’s smile threatens to crack his face in half.

He’s been begging you to quiz him on your knowledge of him even though you assured him, you believe he knows everything about you. A part of you knows this isn’t for you; it’s for him. Lucifer wants to prove he’s a worthy mate by sharing the information he’s collected about you. His crimson eyes are big and beautiful and straight up impossible to deny. With a smile of your own, you sigh and drop your phone. Turning to give him your full attention, you rest your head in your hands.

“Alright. What’s… my favorite color?”

Suddenly his smile drops, eyes rolling dramatically to the left.

“Pfft! That’s way too easy. You need to give me a harder one than that, darling!”

Pursing your lips to the side for only a moment, you don’t need to wrack your brain very hard for a question that would stun Lucifer. A smirk tugs across your face. It’s returned tenfold. He’s vibrating with excitement when he sees you’ve conjured something, something he thinks he can answer. That only makes you more ready to win the battle he’s started.

“Who’s the first person I’d tell a secret to?”

Lucifer inhales like he’s been holding his breathe the whole time.

“That’s—!” He chokes, pupils shrinking to slits, “That’s, uh…”

You make sure to give him a few seconds before dropping the next question.

“Who’s the person I want to see every morning, noon and night of every day?”

“I-I know this one!” Lucifer assures but deflates, shoulders slumping with the amount of uncertainty weighing him down.

“Who am I thinking about every waking moment because they’re my favorite person in the universe?”

Lucifer looks like he wants to say the answer, but he’s afraid it’s wrong. His mouth opens and shuts unsure of itself. His eyes scan your face for any warning signs and although he finds none, it’s as if he can’t trust any of his senses.

Who makes me smile and laugh more than anyone?

Who’s so creative they always have me in awe?

Who can make my day brighter just by being themself?

Question after question, you tug him closer by his hips until he’s flush against you. You will your hands to deliver to reassurance your words cannot. Fingers glide up his neck and comb through his blonde locks, every stroke an apology for dragging the game on.

“Who do I love the very most and thank Heaven every night for sending him to me?”

Your hands steal the apples of his cheeks and tilt his head up. Your eyes grip his in a staring competition fueled by adoration. The games over and forgotten but it has a clear winner. Lucifer’s a blushing disaster, his voice failing him and melting to a whine. He swallows hard on nothing, eyebrows pinching together making his expression appear dangerously hopeful.

Your voice drops to an agonizingly soft whisper. Syrupy sweet yet serious.

“I’ll give you a hint. He’s my angel… His name starts with an L… He’s looking at me like he wants a kiss…?”

“I—Is… Is it.. Me?”

“Yes, Luci. The answer is you.”

Closing the small gap between you both, you finally give him a reward for answering the question correctly.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar headcanon #lucifer morningstar imagine #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader

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bunny-jpeg · 4 months ago

Note

FYI, I'm a Carlos girlyy

I would like to have killed feuille along with sugar pie and sponge Toff with the side of bubble tea, energy drink and a shot of expresso

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? hit up the menu! there are tons of things to choose from and i hope you'll find something you like! i have a lot of fun making these and it's been a lot of fun connecting with all of you! so thank you and keep the prompts coming! <3

mille-feuille: “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.” + sugar pie: “gonna let daddy hear ya?” + sponge toffee: "aw, is someone mad that they can only cum because of me?" + bubble tea: daddy kink + energy drink: doggy style + espresso shot: dirty talking, served by carlos sainz jr (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, praise kink, doggy style, daddy kink, dirty talking

you were carlos' good girl. you always were so responsive to him, so sweet and nice to others. you cared for carlos so much, everything about him you adored. and he in turn adored you. anything you wanted, he'd get for you. nothing too expensive or silly for his beautiful, good girl.

maybe it was to make up for the fact that when you had sex with your boyfriend, he had a motor mouth when he was deep inside of you. carlos' dirty talk was unmatched, at times bordered on rude. but, you knew it was just the heat of the moment. you didn't mind too much, after all, you rather liked it.

you combed your fingers through carlos' hair as you straddled his waist. you pouted at him, "it's not fair."

he smiled as he rested back on his hands. you were both on the bed in your shared bedroom. the moon hung high in the sky as you admired your boyfriend.

"not fair that you're so hot. it should be illegal. punishable by heavy fines! every time you go out, you should have to hand over a hundred dollars as a fine."

he leaned into your touch, "someone is needy. someone needs their daddy."

you shifted in his lap. you were in a tank top and sweat shorts, "i've been thinking about you all day, but that damn racing team of yours ate up all of our time together." you combed your fingers through his dark hair and sighed, "it's not fair."

"you've been saying that a lot." he grabbed you to put you down on your stomach on the plush bed. he ran his hand down your back, "aw, is someone mad that they can only cum because of me?" he knew you were stuck in sexual limbo recently. you had been trying to get yourself off, but it was hard when carlos wasn't around.

he had slowly replaced the entire collection of your toys. even the nice ones who hit your g-spot so nicely. carlos pulled orgasms out of you like a bunny from a hat. so it was easy to part from your toys. you didn't answer instead you squirmed and whined. carlos chuckled and grabbed you by the hair to lift your head up from the pillows, “gonna let daddy hear ya?”

you pouted at him, "it's all your fault!" and that just enticed carlos more. he let go of your hair and started to pull at your shorts. once those were off your legs, then followed the panties. then your shirt and bra.

and then it was only fair for your daddy to get undressed as well. slowly he got out of his t-shirt and sweatpants. his boxers were on the floor soon after and he was laid on top of you, trying to get your legs open a little.

"don't be bratty, my love.' he said in your ear, "you know i don't like when you act like a brat. because i know you so well, and you're always so good for me. so will you be good for me now?"

you nodded a little, "yes daddy. i will be." and you felt his erection between your legs and up against your pussy.

"good because i'd hate to have to train you all over again. i'm pretty sure your ass still burns from all the times i smacked it. i don't want to do that again, especially when i know how good you can be." he kissed your temple before he slipped his cock into you from the angle he was at.

you were under him, his weight on top of you. he kept your pressed to the bed. some would call it trapped, you'd call it perfectly placed. it felt good, especially with his cock hitting all your right spots. your hands were soon under the pillow as you arched your back as much as you could. (which wasn't much).

“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl. so perfect under me." he held you for leverage as he rutted against you. the feeling made you see stars as you squirmed a little bit against him. you could almost hear his heartbeat against your back.

"please, daddy." you moaned into the soft pillows. carlos would always take care of you. he would always make sure that you were cared for, loved always. he knew how deeply he wanted you, how much he yearned for you.

you were his little addiction that he never wanted to quit. he buried his nose up against your hair and happily inhaled. he took in your scent as his cock twitched inside of you. he moved faster, the need to please both of you was strong in his gut.

he panted a little heavier as the pleasure coursed through him, egged on by your moans. you felt like a total dream, even with your sugary sweet moans.

"daddy! i love you, so much. more than anything." you said with a tightness in your tone.

"i know, my love. i love you too. i think i'm addicted to you because when i think of you i grow hot. it has gotten to the point that i cannot think about you while in my car. or else i'll get distracted by your soft lips and pretty eyes, them full with tears when i choke you on my cock." he kissed under your ear on your neck and felt you shiver. so much so that your nipples grew hard.

you swallowed back a moan and moved a little bit, the pleasure was clouding your head and your heart raced, "daddy."

he kissed your heated skin, "i know. you want to cum. you want to feel good." his words were like molten heat in your skull. the pleasure was knocked up another notch and you held onto the pillow tightly.

you moaned loudly into the pillow as climax gripped you. your tensed up and felt amazing. your core felt drenched as he continued to move against you. your sounds became hotter to him as you finished around him.

you were such a good girl for him. so good for daddy. he knew that he picked the best angel to love and adore. he held onto you tighter and moved against you further. he pressed you further into the bed which made you only moan louder.

with a few more heavy thrusts, carlos finished inside of you with a heavy hiss through clenched teeth. he muttered something to himself in the euphoria haze which you didn't pick up. your guess was that he was swearing. but it felt good, his cock throbbed a little as he pulled out, a bit more cum dripped from his cock and onto the bedding.

not that he cared. he felt fulfilled, making his girl finish. he was proud every time he made you cum. he made it look so easy. he got you onto your back and deeply kissed you.

you looked at him and giggled a little, "c'mere, daddy. i want cuddles." then reached for him and got him back down beside you. his lips on you as you tangled up your legs with him.

carlos smiled against the kiss. you really were something else. he loved that you loved his dirty talk. he loved when you called him daddy. you made carlos feel whole and he knew he did the same for you <3

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obliviouscxnt · 1 year ago

Text

Control Azriel x Reader

a/n: I'm so lost, i don't know what I'm doing. Still learning how to use tumblr but in the meantime, welcome to the first fic i feel like posting.

synopsis: feyre's growing curiosity about you sparks some personal questions.

Warnings: mentioned SA, fluff, hints of sexual activities

pt.2 | pt.3

One of the first friends Feyre made in the Night Court was you. You reminded her of the twin wraiths in a way. Never saying much, if anything at all. Maybe that was one of the reasons she liked you so much.

You didn’t need to talk to enjoy each other’s presence. Feyre had as much fun sitting in silence with you as she did on a night out with Mor.

But as time passed, as Feyre became a constant in the Night Court, she had grown curious. She wanted to know more about you like she did the others.

So she started asking you questions, and to her surprise, you would answer her. Your answers weren’t clipped, or vague. You never sounded annoyed with her, you were completely open and honest with her.

“How long have you known everyone?” Feyre had asked while you gently played with her hair, her scalp tingling at your touch.

You thought about it for a moment. “Over two hundred years now.”

She tilts her head, so apart from her you were the newest member of the inner circle. “How did you meet?” She asks, shivering as the tingles travel down her spine.

You start braiding a few small strands from the front of her face as you speak. “My kind are far different from other Fae.” Feyre practically perks up at the words. She knew you weren’t high fae but she never bothered saying anything about it, she barely even noticed it most of the time not nearly enough to warrant a discussion. “They hail from no court, and bow to no lord, not even the Mother is with their thoughts.”

Feyre tried to imagine what that would be like, how they would act, what traditions they’d carry. She thought of your features, the ones that stood out among other high fae. Your ears didn’t point, your nails were like claws, and your teeth bore long sharp canines on both the top and bottom of your mouth, but the features that stood out the most were the ones you kept hidden.

Feyre saw them once, your wings. The first time she met you. Like they were just there for a formal introduction. They were big, beautiful, and intricate. They looked like moth wings, and fluttered like them too. Opening and closing slowly when you were lax.

Immediately when Feyre saw them, she felt like painting again, she could barely keep her eyes off them, barely keep herself from reaching out a hand to touch them. Maybe that was the reason for their absence in the next visit; all that remained of the glorious appendages was precise ink that lined the whole of your back, a tattoo of folded wings.

From the way they folded, they almost formed a natural cape. She wondered how far your tattoo ran, the extravagant fabrics of the dresses you wore only showed so much.

She pictured a whole colony of people that looked like you and immediately felt like painting again.

“It’s why nobody can do anything about their backward ways, they listen to nobody but themselves. Believe no one but themselves.” All preconceived thoughts of your people turn sour with your words.

“The things they’ve done, they still do…” You release a shaky breath as you finish the small braids and set them aside.

Feyre turns to look at you when your delicate hands part with her hair. She finds you sorting through a box of hair ornaments, but your eyes are clouded. Not even the most glorious of diamonds could shine through that fog. “You don’t have to...“

You blink out of your daze and wave her off as you pull out a few gem-encrusted pins and show them to her. Waiting for her to give you a nod of approval before pulling out a stunning bejeweled silver comb and repeating the same process. Your collection was truly marvelous.

“When I was saved, it was my first Flowering Night.” You spoke the words with barely concealed bitterness. “A night where all mature unpaired females are sent into the woods for any participating males to hunt down and take as they please.”

You tuck back the small braids with the sparkling pins. Feyre listened as you continued, she wanted to say something but what would she say?

“No one could run very far from our community, the woods of the Middle hold no mercy. It was either hide and hope you make it till dawn without being spotted by a male. Or die to the other horrid creatures that live in those woods.”

Feyre’s heart ached for you, her sorrow a tangible thing able to be smelt in the air. And you squeezed her shoulder, you comforted her. Her sorrow only increased. You never deserved any of it.

“I chose the latter.” You carefully place the comb into her hair, finding it in yourself to smile at the final product. You still fiddle with a few strands until you feel pleased. “A close encounter with death led to the discovery of my gift,”

Dreamwalker, Rhys had called you. An ability so rare even Helion’s exquisite library had very little information on it.

Feyre loosely understood that you could enter another person's dream. Could manipulate it as you wish, to serenity or to a blood-curdling nightmare. But what made you so powerful, what made you such a valuable asset to the Night Court was your ability to bring dreams to life. All manner of dreams.

However, your ability was sparsely used for court matters, and only necessary people knew of it. You were their trump card. Something nobody would see coming.

Feyre would never forget the time you had a nightmare, sending half the court in preparation for battle. She’d also never forget the way Azriel had fought off the nightmare incarnate to get to you. How he charged forward without an ounce of hesitation. While Rhys had stood protectively in front of Feyre, and Cassian’s siphons flared from beside her, providing a shield around them.

Feyre had realized then that Azriel would go to hell and back for you.

Feyre turns to face you, to look you in your enchanting eyes now that you are finished playing with her hair. “I was barely a woman, I didn’t know the first thing about defending myself. I didn’t know what this gift was.” She watched you raise a hand, small stars forming and trailing your fingers, blinking and shimmering as you played with them. “What good is a gift this powerful if you don’t know what to do with it? It’s as good as a broken blade.”

Feyre’s breath leaves her body when you pull down the shoulder of your elegant emerald gown, revealing a long jagged scar running diagonally across your chest. The skin puffed up from how deep the gash was. “I would’ve died if it weren’t for Azriel.”

The high fae’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly.

“He heard me screaming. And he came for me.” You pull the shoulder back up and smile. Actually, smile. Feyre had never known someone like you, someone able to flip such a horrid memory around. Someone so able to pick out the good amongst the bad. “It wasn’t until a century later that I finally accepted his invitation to the Night Court and met everyone else.”

Feyre found herself grabbing your hand and squeezing. So grateful you had accepted his invitation.

You squeeze back.

“You’re so strong.” Feyre says, furrowing her brows when you laugh like she had told a joke.

“It wasn’t strength that led me here, Feyre.” You tell her. Once again she wanted to paint you, but she felt like she wouldn’t be able to do you justice. “It was fate.”

A knock sounds at the door.

“Come in.” Feyre calls and you both look to the opening door. Two incredibly attractive Illyrian men stand at the doorway.

Rhys smiles at the sight of you two, eyes raking over the hairstyle you’d given Feyre. “You look lovely, Feyre darling.” Her face heats as you smile in triumph.

“Say goodnight.” Comes Azriel’s voice in that tone he only used on you.

You obey his command without a second thought, giving Feyre a light hug and giving Rhys a small bow before scurrying toward Azriel’s waiting arm.

You fall into step with him as his hand lands on your lower back. But before the two of you could disappear you tug on his shirt, prompting him to stop only long enough for you to turn back toward Feyre and say a final goodnight. “Dream well Feyre!” Then he continued leading you away to your shared chambers.

The mated pair watch you two travel away. Rhys with a look of content for you and his brother. Feyre with a new curiosity.

She couldn’t help but be curious about the dynamic you and Azriel had. The way that dynamic bled into the interactions you had with your friends. How you always asked for permission before doing something and always jumped up whenever anyone asked you to do something. Rhys seemed to catch on to that curiosity.

He decided to save you the embarrassment of Feyre asking you herself. He had enough of an understanding of you to know when something would make you uncomfortable, no matter how much you said otherwise.

You’d always answer any questions asked of you openly and honestly, whether you wanted to or not. It was one of the reasons many were at first against your visits with Feyre, himself included. The newly turned fae was far too oblivious to your situation to recognize when she was taking advantage of your obedience. But you assured Rhysand repeatedly that Feyre never bothered you with her questions. That you enjoyed her presence just as much as she, hopefully, enjoyed yours.

Much to everyone’s delight, Feyre regarded you with gentleness and awe from the very start. It was the effect you had on people. It was the reason Azriel didn’t put up a fight about leaving your visits unsupervised.

“[name] was raised by cruel people, they taught her that in a relationship the male's word is law. Her people think a female is expected to give up any and all control to her male. It’s one of the few things she never was able to condition herself out of, Azriel helps her by providing that control she needs.”

Feyre thinks about that, face heating at the images it created. She wondered what that would be like, to surrender herself completely. “So if he told her to jump off the nearest bridge…?”

“She’d do it, with zero hesitation.”

Rhys smirks, knowing glint in his eyes as his gaze runs over the blush that coated her face.

“But he’d never ask something like that of her. He knows her inside out, knows when something is too much or not enough.” He steps closer to her, delighting in the way her breathing picks up. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think your interest in this topic was more than innocent curiosity.”

“Well, do you?” Feyre asks, making his eyes narrow. “Know any better?”

Rhys’s gaze becomes dark. “Nope.”

****

“Did you enjoy your time with Feyre?” You sigh at his voice, the comfort it brings you. You find yourself leaning into him, and he allows it.

“It was nice.” You say truly. It felt like it was easier to breathe now that Feyre had more of an understanding. “She asked about how we met.”

The hand on your back pulls you closer to him as if he were remembering that day. Remembering what you looked like as that hideous creature held you down, slicing into you. The way you flinched away from him after he’d slayed the creature. The sheer dress that you wore, If it could even be called that. He could still picture everything so vividly.

How you eventually submitted to him, and how that made him sick. How he carried you out of the Middle and into the lands of the Night Court, never taking you into the cities. How for the next century after that he would visit you at the little private cabin only he and his brothers knew about, how he took care of you, and how he grew to love you. How you grew to love him in return.

He shoves those thoughts into the back of his mind as he opens the door to your shared chambers, walking you inside before shutting the door behind you.

His hands move to your shoulders while he guides you to sit on the edge of the large bed, big enough to fit at least three winged beings. Hands brushing down your body as he kneels before you, settling on your ankle. He brings your foot up and rests it on his thigh before slowly unraveling the straps of your heel. Once finished he continued with the right heel, his touch nothing but confident from years and years of practice.

A hand pats your thigh, letting you know he’s finished. Your eyes trail him as he heads toward the bathroom, you’d be happy to just look at him for the rest of your immortal life.

You help Azriel, though he had no problem doing it for you, by taking off your jewelry one by one, setting each extravagant piece on the nightstand. By the time you're done Azriel’s waiting for you next to a full bath.

“Come.” He beckons from beside the large clawfoot tub. Hand outstretched and waiting for you.

You saunter toward him, sighing as you let your brain just rest. Let him do everything for you.

His hands are strong, and gentle, and secure all in one as they guide you out of your gown, his clothes following not long after. You sigh as he brings you into the tub. Positioning you so you sat between his legs, back to his front.

Your eyelids slowly fall shut, coaxed by his soothing touch. Feeling nothing but content when he pushed your head back to lay on his shoulder, a gentle kiss pressed against your temple.

You were soon in a state of barely there, just teetering on the side of sleep but awake enough to move when he told you to.

“Lean forward.”

His hands rub up and down your back, cleaning and massaging the skin there. You shudder in pleasure and he hums soothingly. Like cooing at a pet. You straighten up a bit when he taps the marked skin a few times, moving forward just enough for your wings to slowly peel away from your back. What was once ink on your skin, now real moving wings.

“Spread.” And you do so, wings unfolding and stretching out completely.

You shiver as his hands brush against them, making them twitch both away and toward him. As if they couldn’t decide whether the feeling it brought you was too much or not enough.

As always Azriel handled them with utmost care, humming when small noises of pleasure escaped you. When he was finished he tapped your shoulder to let you know, but you were too tired to summon the magic needed to conceal them.

Though, not tired enough to remember it was his turn.

Slowly with lethargic movements, you turn to face him. Wings folding up again, forming a natural cape on your back. “Can I-“ You begin but catch yourself before you can finish. His narrowed eyes crinkled into a smile. Happy he no longer had to remind you of such a simple fact.

Don’t ask to touch what is yours.

So instead you reach for the soap in his hands and begin to wash him. Taking satisfaction in the way his wound-up muscles, tense from hours of work, relaxed under your touch. The way his hands rested on your hips, squeezing every now and then appreciatively. The hums that left his mouth, no longer with the intent to soothe you but to let you know how pleased you made him.

Your touches became increasingly distracted, sleep slowly leaving your system as your mind filled with nothing but him.

He smirks, a mix of amusement and attraction. Allowing his own touches to become less innocent. His hands move to wrap around your wrists, dragging your hands down, down, and down his body. Soap long ago discarded.

“Touch me.” He commands.

And nothing could keep you from satisfying him.

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron

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screampied · 1 year ago

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heyyo ex!Toji who just can’t forget you and he’s FRUSTRATED with it, he swears he saw you on his kitchen at midnight (it’s not real) and touches himself while looking at your old photos that he still has.. hope u take requests

☆ : ex-bf! toji x fem!reader

⤷ tags : part one & two, ex trope, masterbation, pervy toji, needy toji, phone sex, dirty talk, mdni. wc. 1.1k

an. yesss i do and omg i love ex bf toji tysm ngh

oh how he hates feeling like this.

ex-bf!toji was so pent up and annoyed. he’s annoyed at you for making him so irritated. so…hard. toji never realized how attached he grew towards you. after the messy break up. he found himself fantasizing about you way more than he should. it takes him a long time to move on.

that is if he ever moves on.

“the fuck..” he’d grumble, blinking twice to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks. he could have sworn he saw you in the kitchen, hovering over the sink counter, bent over while occupying yourself, doing the dishes or cooking.

with another blink, you weren’t there and he was back to reality, he scratched his head before a vexed scowl spreads on his pink lips. it was late at night, and he figured it was his own drowsiness getting to him — so he didn’t think much of it until he goes back towards his room.

he finds himself in his bed, lazily leaned back before unlocking it to look at the collection of old photos he had of you, the more…filthy ones the two of you took while intimate. he scrolls to a specific one with you on your knees, tongue sticking out and….next thing toji knew, he was dialing your number.

he didn’t have to go to his contact list because he knew your digits by heart.

he just needed to hear your voice again, touching himself at the thought and sight of you just wasn’t enough.

“oh, hey….didn’t think you’d pick up,” he breaks the silence. his voice was pitched, a hint of roughness in it. based from his breathing on the other line, it sounded like he was panting heavily. he lays back against the bed—combing a hand through his hair before wiping his nose. “i’m not gonna sugarcoat things so i’m just gonna say it,” he grumbles, clenching his jaw before swallowing. “i’ve been uh, fantasizin’ about you.”

it’s pretty late at night, and you’re still confused on why he called.

well…you probably knew. toji heard about your messy breakup. he just couldn’t get you out of his head — he wondered if it was like that for you.

“you fantasize about me?” you speak on the other end of the phone in a soft voice.

he’s always loved your voice, how sweet it sounded, especially during phone calls. the calm, smoothness of it.

“yeah,” he mutters. “thought i saw you in the kitchen today. and i got kind of hard once i was deleting pictures in my camera roll.”

“…oh?” you utter. and you couldn’t lie, you were intrigued, who were you kidding. you missed toji too—perhaps in more ways than one. you still kept the dozens of voicemails he dumped you. of just him talking, rambling, or even him talking you through an orgasm on the phone. “were you touching yourself to me, toji?”

he pauses for a brief moment before grumbling. “yeah. you know i was.”

“mhm..not really,” you giggle. “that’s kinda why i’m asking.”

toji inhales at your teasing, and he closes his eyes shut for a brief moment—you were…teasing him? he could tell by the tone of your voice. he tried to relax, squeezing two fingers down against his nose before uttering, “fuck, you should come over.”

“i’m all the way across town.”

“i’ll pick you up.”

“toji.” you rolled your eyes—you forgot how persistent he was. you could hear the want and neediness in his tone. it was cute, not to mention attractive. he was like this all because of you.

he sighs. “fine, just talk to me.”

“about?”

“talk to me,” he repeats, and his voice pitches a bit more. that made you feel tingly a bit. you knew what he meant by talking—toji was a man, an impatient one that wasn’t keen on beating around the bush nor sugar coating things. “i fuckin’ missed you. and knowing i can’t touch you right now, i feel all hot and pent up.”

you think for a moment before humming. “oh,” and then you smile to yourself. “if i were with you right now, what would you be doing, toji? what would we be doing?”

“i’d be kissing your neck, softly biting down against that spot where y’er all sensitive,” he starts—and he’s panting again, you hear a bit of shuffling through the other end of the line. “i’d kiss all up and down your body. trace my hands down your curves a-and.”

“it’s okay, just say you wanna fuck me.” you tease.

“woman….” he moans, and if you’d bet money that toji was stroking himself to you voice. he inhales and exhales, before swallowing a thick lump in his throat. the phone pressed up against his ear. “i wanna fuck you. so damn bad.”

you hum. “i bet you do,” and you were starting to get riled up yourself. toji grows quiet every time you speak, and hearing him sound all needy for you a bit horny yourself. “are you touching yourself right now, toji?”

“is it obvious?” he mutters.

“a little,” you coo, and it’s not long before toji starts to moan through the other line of the phone. his moans were low and pitchy—repeating your name again and again, you had him wrapped around your finger. “are you imagining i’m the one stroking you right now?”

“y-yeah baby.” he sighs. he hits his lip in frustration as his eyebrows press together, and he groans. “shit, ‘s not fair. y’know what you’re doing to me.”

you giggle. “i’m just talking to you. like you said.”

minutes past and toji’s jaw clenched, tilting his head back he’s just imagining the entire scene. your voice doesn’t make things better, he’s visualizing everything.

your touch, your taste, even your sweet scent. that pretty perfume you always wore—god, he wanted you. he craved you.

“f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum to just the sound of your voice.” he says. teeth clenched against each other, and he’s embarrassed. his face was flustered, flushed, whatever else. “all your fault.”

“sureee, it’s my fault.” you play along. after the long anticipating build up. toji cums, fisting his hand with pumps and watching how he made a mess on himself. a low sigh exits from his mouth and he grunts—the other like going quiet. “aww. toji, look at you, getting off to the sound of my voice. wish i could see.”

he groans. “…shut up,” before he hangs up abruptly.

you giggle before seconds later, there’s a request that pops up on your phone — and toji wants to video call you. probably so you could see the mess you made him make.

#★vegasbaby.#toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #toji x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader #tw sex #toji fushiguro x reader

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michirukaioureincarnate · 29 days ago

Text

The Blade's Shelter

A Mizu Oneshot

Fandom: Blue Eye Samurai Pairing: Mizu x Reader Genre(s): Fluff 𖹭𖹭𖹭 | Smut 𖹭𖹭𖹭𖹭𖹭 | Angst 𖹭 Theme(s): First time | Friends w/ benefits Warning(s): Sexual themes (consensual) | Slightly edited/proofread Summary: After Mizu stumbles into your hiding spot like an injured stray, you two form a silent arrangement of give and take until she gives you more than you can handle. Reading Stats: 6980 words | 27 min read Disclaimer: All characters are consenting adults | Aged 21+

─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────── A/n: bruh I started writing this AGES ago, like, I'm talking MONTHS and MONTHS ago. Idk what's up with me and writing cuz it's been hard to find joy in the process over the past few years despite being excited about my ideas. Glad that I got this over with, finally. Anyhooo, hope y'all enjoy it <3 ─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────────

⋅ ⚔ ⋅

The bitterness in your mouth made you think your gums were bleeding all the time. It started when you married into a family of well-renowned sumurais, with no protest from Mizu when you broke the news to her.

She hadn't reacted at all, perhaps because becoming a spinster wouldn't bode well for someone of your standing. You were hoping she'd save you from your pre-written fate, just as she had escaped hers. After all, women were simply pawns for negotiating where the wealth went and stayed.

Despite your musings of fleeing the upcoming nuptials, you stayed. Not because you were weak, but because you realized you couldn't do much for Mizu if you didn't go through with it.

⋅ ⚔ ⋅

She often took refuge in the empty barn on your father's estate, and you'd bribed the farmer for his silence in order to tend to her whenever she returned. The barn was your safe space to get away from the frivolities of daily life, until Mizu rolled in quietly through the top floor window one night—and nearly gave you a heart attack—when escaping from some city guards. They bled all over the floor despite seeming cool and collected.

Then they passed out.

You couldn't make sense of how someone could've scaled the barn so quietly and swung themselves in so easily from the roof. It was even more shocking when you found out that someone was a woman.

A very handsome one.

That's how it started. You tending to her wounds, and her waking up in the middle of being bandaged and flipping you onto your back with a dagger to your throat. The strangest part was her patting around for her amber-stained spectacles to put them on before opening her eyes. Warm brown eyes through the honeyed glass. She made sense of the situation just as quickly and got off you, wincing as she clutched her wound. It took some insistence to get her to stay so you could bring her some food, and she complied, eventually falling asleep in the hay. She was gone the next morning, much to your dismay, but came back because she wanted to repay you for your hospitality.

And for not ratting her out to the authorities as well.

It was a blood-stained hair comb of gold with a beautiful lotus of rose quartz petals. That thoroughly intimidated you, and the woman seemed to take some kind of sick pleasure in it before wiping away the still-wet crimson splatters.

"It belonged to a woman who fought for her destiny and sacrificed herself very happily for it," she said as she wagged the comb at you. "Hopefully this reminds you to make better choices in your own pursuit."

Shock was an understatement. "How did you–"

"You're quite loud when you're angry," she smirked. "Also, maybe don't accidentally spill hot tea on suitors that could kill you."

You scoffed and left to get her some dinner. "Stay here. I haven't eaten tonight. You might as well join me."

You gave her your name, and she gave you hers. Mizu. just Mizu. The strange woman who'd drop in every now and then with something to bargain in exchange for food and a warm place to sleep. You understood her intention quite quickly, so you went along with the silent contract, especially since she was quite mindful of the things she brought. Somehow, she always knew what you wanted that week, and you began wondering if you really were all that loud when you talked.

And so began conversations about life and dreams in whispers, but only from your end. She'd listen absently, usually on the verge of sleep until she'd start snoring. That was only until fall started rolling in slowly through the summer months, and she'd be eating slower. You'd start yapping as soon as you were done stuffing your face, and she'd listen with distracted nods. Then you noticed that she'd be done eating sooner and would sat hunched over crossed legs, arms outstretched to rest her wrists on her knees with eyes downcast, probably tuning you out as she gathered her bearings for the evening.

And then she started looking at you. Small glances at first until she had enough courage to look right at you as you talked. Frankly, you weren't ready for her direct and steady gaze. It was so intense behind those yellow-tinted glasses gleaming in the light of the oil lamp. Her eyes were warm like the bark of the sakura bonsai in your room.

It startled you. "W-what is it?"

She raised her brows dubiously. "Nothing? You were saying?"

You narrowed your eyes at her and continued your spiel about a poetry book you were gifted by a suitor. He was attempting to come off as open-minded about women being literate, but ended up offending you with the works of a man who clearly viewed women as beneathe even animals.

Mizu's head slowly tilted to the side, an elbow balanced on her knee to lift her fist, resting her cheek upon its knuckles as she continued to listen. You felt hot in the ears and looked away.

"I-I should let you sleep, I suppose," you stammered. "Long day tomorrow."

"More suitors to chase away?" she asked, a chortle behind her throat. "I'll do you a favor in exchange for missing today's payment."

Your head snapped over to her. "Mizu, I never saw them as payments. I...assumed they were gifts."

"Nothing's ever free. Neither should be your hospitality. Or your silence. Or the farmer's."

You sighed. "You don't have to pay for tonight."

"Then I'm incurring debt."

"No!" you groaned exasperatedly and shot up to your feet, swiping the tray of empty dishes from before her and rushing to the steps. "Just sleep, Mizu. We'll discuss this later."

The next morning, you found a pair of weighted gauntlets by the stack of hay Mizu had claimed as her resting spot. Metal, and quiet heavy. You'd noticed them on her wrists and ankles before.

"Goodness..." you gasped as you picked them up. "Heavy!"

How she could move with those on was beyond your comprehension, except that she must be exceptionally strong. Well, you knew that from the first time you and her met, and how she flipped you over. It was unusual for a woman to have that kind of strength, but it was inspiring to you.

A note on the ground caught your attention.

Collateral, it read. You rolled your eyes and safely put the gauntlets away where no one would see. That evening, Mizu came with her "payment". A book with a beautiful deep blue ribbon embroidered in gold.

Mizu looked quite despondent when she held it out. You took it cautiously—almost fearful, really—and noticed that it was slightly charred in some places. You leafed through it. Poetry.

"She would've wanted it to go to someone who'd appreciate it..." Mizu muttered as she walked past you to settled down onto the hay.

You turned to her inquisitively. "Won't you eat?"

"Don't have an appetite," she grumbled and slightly curled into herself, pulling the corner of the folded blanket over her body. You were confused and looked through the book a little more, finding some pages with smudged ink, as if the writer had cried over them. There were tiny splatters of something dark—blood. As you turned the pages, you noticed the writing becoming more erratic, and sentences becoming nonsensical.

You exaled sharply as something akin to grief came over you. "Mizu, is this...what happened?"

She only sighed. Whatever the truth was, you couldn't imagine how tragic it must've been for someone like Mizu to be affected by it. Even more so, how tragic life must've been for the one who wrote the poetry. Holding the notebook to your chest, you pulled the gauntlets out from their hiding place on the beam above and slowly walked over to her, lowering onto your knees.

"Mizu," you said softly, "whatever it was, don't punish yourself. Please eat."

She sighed again, more deeply than before. "I'm...too tired."

"Then let me help," she said. "I...don't have change for your payment, so let me account for it."

You couldn't believe that it pulled a chuckle from Mizu as she weakly turned onto her back. That's when you noticed the ash on her cheekbone and jaw. Her clothes smelled of smoke...and something else. Burned flesh, but only a hint of it.

You didn't want to think about what she'd been through that day.

Arranging the hay behind her, she leaned back against it to sit up as you pulled the tray over. You softened the bread in the thick soup, hoping it wouldn't have Mizu chewing too much. As you raised the deep spoon to her lips, you caught her watching you intently from behind her amber frames. Warmth rose to your cheeks, and you set your lips in a thin line to avoid making a strange face of embarrassment. You looked at her mouth, watching her lips glisten with a thin sheen of soup.

Much to your surprise, you were overcome with the urge to wipe them. With your own lips.

Mizu quickly licked them clean and snapped you out of your intrusive thoughts, and heat flared around your neck. You turned away quickly to fill up the spoon with more soup and bread, trying to compose yourself in those few seconds. When you faced her again, she had a smirk on her face.

You wanted to smack it away.

"What?" you demanded, your voice much higher than you expected it to be.

Mizu only shook her head lightly and reajusted her glasses. "It's amusing to see someone of your social standing be so..."

"Subservient?" you offered sourly.

She shook her head. "Nurturing."

It came out so soft and tender that your lips parted in surprise. It didn't help with the flush creeping down your shoulders. "We're taught to be, though. We have to care for our husbands this way eventually."

"Ahh," she nodded teasingly, "so I'm your practice husband."

"Mizu!"

She only gave you a lopsided grin before taking the spoon in your hand to feed herself. "Eat your dinner. The change is accounted for, I believe."

You rolled your eyes and did as told, happy to have an excuse to not burn up under her gaze despite the autumn chill. Eating faster than normal, you were hyperaware of Mizu watching you. Constantly.

"What is it?" you hissed at her from behind your bowl of soup. "Is there something on my face?"

She shrugged. "You're just...pretty."

"Huh? Why—you—" you scoffed. "What are you playing at?"

She shrugged again. "I don't blame your family for rushing to marry you off. You're pretty, and men see that. You make yourself even more desirable by making yourself unattainable. Must be a headache for your father."

"What on earth do you mean?"

She raised a brow at you over her own bowl of soup that she sipped from. Tipping her head back to finish it up, she set the bowl down and wiped her mouth. "Word's on the street that you're a challenge to conquer. It's got some Daimyōs talking. Even heard rumors about how you're setting up booby traps for suitors to get through."

"Oh, those aren't rumors," you said immediately before slapping a hand on your mouth. That came out too easily. "Please don't tell anyone I'm doing it on purpose. My parents don't know. They think people are being ridiculous."

Mizu grinned that same lopsided grin again. "Quite the woman you are. Who are you waiting for exactly?"

You.

The thought came to you without hesitation, and you felt embarrassed. It made no sense. Mizu was a woman. How could you, as a woman, feel for another woman? But it just felt so natural for some reason.

You'd never liked anyone so much. Ever.

"I'm waiting for no one," you grunted. "You know that."

"You're waiting for something, that's for sure."

With a huff, you gathered the empty dishes and piled them onto the tray. You didn't want to be interrogated only to be laughed at, especially when she knew everything about you.

And you knew nothing but her name.

"What about you, then?" you demanded. "What's your deal? You come and go as you please, but I don't even know if you're a criminal."

"A secret for a secret, eh?" she said thoughtfully as she fell deeper into the hay, hands clasped over her stomach. "Tough bargain. I have too many, and neither will satisfy any of your curiosities."

"How can someone have too many secrets?" you said on the verge of annoyance. "Does no one know anything about you?"

She raised her brow at you with a pointed look as she reached for her straw Kasa hat, placing it over her face as she relaxed back completely. Before you knew it, she was breathing deeply, but not snoring.

You had one question, though.

Setting the tray down, you shuffled over to her and got down on your knees. With a hooked finger under the brim of her Kasa, you pulled it up to reveal her face. Her eyes scrunched behind her glasses as the light of the oil lamp sneaked in.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Your glasses," you stated. "Tell me why you wear them."

"And get myself killed?"

"You're so dramatic, Mizu," you grumbled.

She popped open an eye. "If you're so curious, take them off yourself."

Simple enough, you thought, and moved to do so. Your lack of attentiveness came as no surprise to Mizu as she grabbed your outstretched hand by the wrist and moved like lightning. And then you were on your back with hands pinned over your head, straddled by Mizu.

Your face was on fire.

Past the bitter scent of combat and injury, she smelled of sweet wood, incense, a hint of sweat, and some of the staleness of hay.

"Did you forget what you're dealing with?" she laughed deeply from her chest, and you cleared your throat as you tried to find the words to say. She was pretty up close as she swept an endearing gaze your way, as if she thought of you as nothing more than a defenseless fawn who couldn't walk yet.

"I-I don't know what you are," you stammered. "Also, how do you move that fast?!"

It was then that her glasses slid a little lower down her nose. Only a little, but just enough for you to get a glimpse of something where it shouldn't be.

Blue.

Her eyes were blue.

You gasped, and Mizu's hands were off you in a flash as she pushed her glasses back up. She curled away from you, almost scandalized as she shoved herself up to stand with a displeased grunt.

"M-Mizu, I didn't–"

"It wasn't your fault," she cut in so coldly that you felt the chill deep in your bones. "I was careless. Too careless. I let my guard down, and that was a mistake."

"It's really not that serious."

"Not to you," she seethed over her shoulder, glaring through her golden spectacles rendering her beautiful blue irises a molten brown of fury. She was angry, though not at you. "I should go."

Before you could say anything, she'd gathered her things in a flash and slipped out of the window.

And she didn't come back.

⋅ ⚔ ⋅

You never stopped going to the barn. It was your safe space, after all. Autumn came, but Mizu never showed herself.

Sometimes you felt like you were being watched, or that a foreign shadow flitted past, but you'd ignore it. Other times, you caught a whiff of her scent, but you knew you were just imagining it.

You missed her, but you never said it out loud. All you'd do is leave food out for her every evening, and come back to it untouched, stale, and cold.

Until the first morning of winter.

The bowl was empty, and there was a beautiful Kanzashi with ornaments of purple iris flowers hanging off a braided thread.

You'd just broken your favorite Kanzashi last night.

"Mizu?" you gasped, looking around desperately. A soft thud from behind alerted you, and you turned quickly to a silhouette darkened by the cold sunlight pouring in from the window behind them.

But it was oh-so-familiar. When the Kasa came off, Mizu's face looked right at you.

She took her glasses off.

Your mouth went dry at the vibrant shade of blue peering at you, making your heart soar. And you couldn't help it. Your feet moved on their own, running in small steps due to the tight wrap of your damned kimono as you threw your arms around her waist. The warmth of her body was a comforting solace to the reality of her presence, and it enveloped you like a lover's embrace.

"You're okay," you breathed shakily against her heartbeat. It sped up under your ear, though you weren't sure why. "Where did you go?"

She wasn't breathing, and she was quite skinny in your embrace despite her obvious strength. You felt her uncertain hand on your back as her chest finally deflated.

"I had to go to Kyushu."

You pulled away and looked up at her. "K-Kyushu? That's so far away! Whatever for?"

She only shook her head. You finally let go of her, clearing your throat as you put some distance between yourselves, cold air rushing into the space between your bodies in a way that agoonized you. Straightening out your clothes, you tried to think of something to say.

"I'll get you some lunch."

"But–"

"I've been worried sick about you and the last thing I want is an argument about payment or debt," you snapped. "As punishment for your absence, you'll do as I say for as long as you were gone!"

Mizu blinked down at you in surprise, pursing her lips slightly as a hint of amusement spread over her features. She was clearly trying hard to restrain it.

"As you say, Oujo-sama."

Your hand instinctively flew for her face. It was intended to be a light and playful smack of warning, but Mizu caught it inches away from her cheekbone. She gripped your hand in hers securely, the warmth of her blood seeping onto your skin as she tugged you into her shadow.

You gasped softly, stumbling close to her chest with only the backs of your hands between each other's faces. Mizu stared at you with furrowed eyebrows, trying to convey something through her stern gaze as she—to your utter surprise—pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

Your knees almost gave away. Her lips were soft on your skin, and her breath fanned over your fingers as she pulled away, the sound of her parting lips fizzling into the air intimately. Your eyes zeroed in on her mouth, feeling faint tingles of...of yearning spread over your tongue for a taste of her.

"I missed you."

You'd both said it, breathlessly and shamelessly. Except that neither of you really knew what the other meant by that confession. For all you knew, it was all sisterly affection on her part. [A/n: useless fckn sapphics istfg both of you]

"Oh, um..." you flushed with heat as you tore your gaze off hers. "Well, I'm glad you were thinkng about me."

Mizu said nothing, only gripping your hand tighter. "Won't you sit with me?"

"Let me at least bring you some food," you insisted. "I'm hungry, and you must be too."

She raised a brow at you. "Your family's quite lenient, letting you eat alone during the day."

"Oh, no, they think I'm trying to lose weight for–"

You paused. Mizu probably didn't know, and this wasn't how you wanted to break it to her.

"I'll be back," you said quickly and slipped out of her grasp, missing her touch and closeness instantly as you scurried away.

When you returned, Mizu had made herself comfortable in the same spot of hay as she used to. You set down the food, and the conversation flowed as naturally as it did before. Well, it was just you rambling on again, but you told her about the ash-dusted poetry book, how much you loved it, but no details about its writer.

You were sure she was long dead.

Mizu listened more attentively than ever before, or maybe she was gone for so long that you forgot what it was like to be heard at all. Either way, you two talked into the sunset, and you had the farmer bring in dinner for the two of you. You didn't want to let Mizu out of your sight for even a second, fearful that she might disappear forever again.

In the cloak of the dark night with its sequin of stars, you and Mizu shared a blanket on the roof of the barn. Mizu had coolly swung herself up from the window, but you were smarter and simply used the ladder inside. And there you were, pointing out constellations to her and telling her of the stories that inspired them.

Then there was silence, and it wasn't very comfortable. Not for you, anyway. You knew you had to tell her the situation before you left the barn for your room.

"I'm...getting married," you said, "as soon as spring comes."

You were hoping for a reaction that would convince you to go against the fate your parents had decided.

"To who?" she asked coolly, completely unaffected. Your heart sank.

"A daimyō of the Akamatsu clan," you replied, subdued. "Weird guy. Doesn't talk much."

She hummed. "Does it bother you?"

"I guess..." you sighed. "I talk because I want an opinion on things. I could just talk to myself or a statue if I didn't want a response at all."

Mizu seemed to grow sheepish. "Sorry," she muttered, but you only shook your head. You understand she hadn't grown up around the things you had.

"I like that you asked me things," you said. "That's more than what most of these suitors do to impress me."

Mizu smiled. "Something's better than nothing, I guess. Will you be okay, though? Getting married and all?"

You shrugged. "Not like I have a choice, do I?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "Someone like you wouldn't survive being destitute when your father passes. Given your reputation, you'd be...taken advantage of a lot."

"Ah, you heard..." you muttered. Her father's health wasn't public knowledge yet, but you weren't surprised that Mizu still managed to get wind of it.

"Well," she sighed in a bittersweet way, "when you're married, that means no more warm dinners for me. Better find another naive Oujo-sama to take care of me."

You punched her arm, and she laughed huskily up at the stars.

"I take it that you're back here for a while," you said, and Mizu nodded. "Then I'll arrange for something at my husband's residence. We don't have to stop meeting."

"Too risky."

"How else will I be able to help?" you grumbled. "It's not like I can run away to live a life on the road with you, can I?"

Mizu was silent for a moment, as if contemplating it. She eventually shook her head. "No. You'd...hold me back."

She didn't have to say that out loud, you frumbled internally.

"What do you do anyway?" you prodded. "Or is that still a secret?"

"Sort of..." she mumbled. "It's...something I've prepared for since I was a child. A plan of revenge."

You were sure she meant to sound a little more serious, but she just seemed tired.

"I'm getting there," she continued. "I'm getting closer, I think. Something's in the air, and I don't think it'll be long before I have to travel somewhere far again."

Your heart clenched in your chest. "Is it so important? Why can't you just...stay here and live a comfortable life? You'll die if you keep getting injured."

"A rare occurrence."

"Still!"

"Like I said, I've prepared for it all my life."

You knew there was no talking her out of it. "Fine, do as you wish. I'm heading back down. It's cold."

Mizu nodded, and she helped you down the ladder in the darkness, following after you with the blanket in one arm. You watched her walk past you to the haystack lit up by the moonlight, preparing for the night. You didn't want to go just yet, but the oil lamp had run out of flame.

"I'm scared," you blurted out suddenly. Mizu paused and turned sideways to look at you. "I'm scared of getting married."

They looked sympathetic. "Why?"

"I...I don't know," she sighed. "My mother, she gave me some strange pictures and..."

Mizu laughed softly and plopped down into the hay beckoning you over. "It's not all that scary when you're both ready for it."

You shuffled over to sit on your knees by her side, feeling constricted in the kimono as always. "How do you know?"

"I was married once."

"To a man?" you said disappointedly.

She raised a teasing brow, smirking mischievously. "I wasn't aware that marrying women was an op–"

"Ignore what I said," you grumbled, earning the small lopsided grin you'd missed so much. "I'm just worried I'll disappoint my husband and, in turn, my family as well."

Mizu stared at you incredulously. "Wait, you've...have you never had a lover before?"

You scoffed. "Why would I? I simply had no interest."

"Good grief..." she stared at you in a daze. "Wow, you're really just...going into this head first."

Nodding sadly, you looked away as your heart lurched in your chest, followed by a flare of heat up your neck. "I just...wish I knew what it would be like. It's too late for that, though. The whole town will know about my engagement tomorrow. I mean, I doubt my husband-to-be cares if I have a secret lover either way, but..."

Your hands, stacked on your lap, twitched with something. An urge, a yearning, especially for closeness to Mizu. You bravely looked up at her as your heart lurched in your chest.

"Could you tell me what it'll be like?"

She looked back at you uncertainly. "It's not something that can be explained, really."

"Oh..." you sighed, looking off to the side nervously to avoid her gaze. You were hoping she would've taken the hint, but there really was no point to trying. Mizu was married to a man once, and she seemed to remember it quite fondly.

So imagine the surprise when you felt the back of her fingers gently caress your cheek. Your mouth went dry when Mizu cupped your jaw, turning your face to hers.

"I...could show you," she whispered almost breathlessly, red in the ears with a heavy gaze that searched your face in the soft moonlight pouring through the window. "I guess I'd know how to prepare you as a woman myself."

You weren't entirely sure what she meant just yet, so you simply went along with it. "That makes sense, yes."

In the darkness of the night, you heard her shuffle and felt the flutter of her fabric on your wrist. The hand on your jaw moved to brush away the stray locks from your face, fingers brushing your temple and tucking your hair behid your ear. You lost your breath as her nose brushed yours, feeling her breath on your lips. The air between your bodies grew warmer despite the immense cold of the night, enveloping you completely. Heat rolled off her body onto yours like a gentle hearth, except that you were compelled to throw your hands into the embers regardless of the burn.

But you remained patient.

She was close. So close, enough to feel the warmth of her lips on yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, and Mizu's trailing fingers up the side of your neck left sparks of pleasure in their wake. You stayed right where you were, frozen, expectant, your heart pounding harder by the moment until her fingers delicately grabbed your chin.

She pulled you in, and you exhaled sharply as her slightly chapped mouth momentarily brushed yours. Your heart soared, and your soul practically left your body as an electric blossom sparked from your chest and throughout your whole body. She pecked you cautiously, the sweet sound of parting lips dissipating faintly into the air as every cell of your skin buzzed with the awarness of her presence.

You opened your eyes a peek to see Mizu looking at you with concern and curiosity.

"Th-that wasn't so bad," you whispered. Mizu nodded, and your hands found the panels of her haori, clutching onto them as she leaned down to kiss you again. This time, she was firmer. Her hand closed on your throat, a thumb admiring its slender side before sliding to the back of your neck. You mewled softly as her fingers clutched your hair at the nape with restrained desperation that you didn't realize she had. The seemingly unfeeling and reclusive vagabond had a crack in her mask, through which escaped her soft and ardent sigh. You pulled her in closer, wishing to feel her skin on yours, fingertips tracing her clavicle to trail over the bone of her shoulder. Her other hand reached for your waist with purpose, hooking her fingers under your obi to pull you in with a simple yet strong tug.

You huffed upon feeling her body flush against yourself. Your other hand splayed above her breast, not on purpose, but she didn't seem to mind, too engrossed in cushioning your lips with the warmth of her own. Her arm around your back kept your knees from giving away, leaning into you as you tried to stay upright, her kiss tender yet coupled with something akin to need. It was making you dizzy, and you could barely keep your eyes open. You moaned softly, feeling small and secure in her embrace.

Mizu huffed as she paused, pulling you into her lap so she could kiss you better. Her hand clasped your jaw gently with practiced restraint, guiding your mouth open to press her warm tongue against yours.

Oh... you thought helplessly with a faint whine. That's lovely.

The sound you made seemed to have encouraged Mizu as she kissed you deeper, and you found yourself getting drunk on the way she felt; like cool and pure water swirling on your tongue. You'd surrendered to her, falling limp in her very strong embrace as she quenched herself upon your lips. Your hands clamored for her neck, fingers slipping into her hair to keep her where she was so you could continue to remain intoxicated, kissing her back fervently through the small mewls from your throat that you couldn't hold back.

Much to your disappointment, Mizu pulled away, breathing heavily through slightly swollen lips tinged with red. Her breasts pressed against yours with each inhale, and you loved the way it felt.

"Well..." she muttered shakily, "that's how it starts."

You peered up at her through your eye lashes, not really thinking straight. "And where does it go?"

"A-are you sure?"

You giggled, feeling victory in finally getting her to lose composure. "Unless you believe this is a sufficient enough lesson, then—"

Her kiss effectively silenced you, one that was even deeper than the last. She grabbed around your shoulders to pull you closer as she hoisted your higher on her lap. You let out a sound of surprise at her strength, and also of shame as her thigh pressed into a sensitive spot between yours, eliciting a throb of warmth that you were quite unfamiliar with.

She kissed you truly now, like she'd really missed you, softly nipping at your bottom lip after sucking on it when pulling back momentarily, then diving in to explore your mouth once more. You tried to express your desire for her in return by kissing her back, but she was too strong. She'd completely dominated you.

Her fingers dug into your obi, trying to find your curves while grunting into your mouth with displeasure. You pushed her back the best you could, finding a sliver of space between your bodies to undo your layers. You wanted to kiss her without hindrance, and your clothes didn't help. Before you knew it, your lapels fell away, and her hand slipped past the fabric to caress your bare shoulder as you shuddered from the chill of the air.

She leaned down and kissed right at the swell of your breast that peeked over your loosened neckline, following up to your shoulder. The softness of her lips trailing your cleavage elicited quiet mewls of ecstasy that turned to shuddering exhales as her tongue licked up the side of your neck, sucking lightly with breathy groans vibrating against your skin. She paused to breathe, looking up at you for your certainty. The wait was unbearable, especially since you'd been longing for this moment for ages without ever realizing it. Taking her hand, you nervously slid it down your cleavage, breathing heavily as her fervent palm slid onto your breast.

Mizu's eyes grew heavier, her callused fingers squeezing gently to fondle you. A soft, embarrassed gasp left you as her thumb ran over your nipple.

"Is...this how it goes?" you asked timidly, and Mizu gulped, licking her lips as her breath labored. She pulled you in closer, hoisting you higher on her hips until her breath fanned across your sternum, her fingers having pulled away the fabric to now reveal your bare torso to her under the moonlight for her blue eyes to gaze on.

"I..." she exhaled with a stagger, "I must warn you that your husband might not...take his time with you as I will."

You furrowed your brows. "What do you mean?"

Her eyes locked with yours as her face loomed closer to your left bosom, her eager and supple tongue glinting with spit as she pressed it against your soft peak to swipe over it. The rush of pleasure had you gasping, and her lips closed around your aerola with a gentle, wet suckle that pooled electrifying, aching throbs between your thighs. Mizu's hands immediately rose from your hips to your waist, holding you still as her eyes fluttered shut, and you felt her tongue run slow circles over the sensitive bud of your breast languidly.

"M-Mizu..." you gasped sharply, unable to escape her arms wrapping around you as your pelvis pressed against her firm abdomen. Your hips rolled against her on their own accord, your pulsing canal growing damp as it searched desperately for something. Somewhere in the soft folds between your legs was a bud that ached to be touched, and a shot of pleasure permeated from it througout your pelvis as Mizu pressed her body against you, a hand gripping the back of your thigh as her hips rolled up between your legs.

Mizu's chest rose and fell against your ribs heavily as she pulled away from your chest, leaving your damp breast vulnerable to the cool night air. "Y/n, tell me if you want me to stop."

"I don't," you whispered needily, and it was all it took for her to flip you against the haystack and be on top of you. You gasped, heart pounding as she loomed over you, keeping you in her shadow as the rest of your clothes came undone under her watchful gaze. Though you'd been naked before your female servants during baths and whilst being dressed, this was neither of those occassions.

Mizu looked like she was going to devour you.

The shyness overtook you like a wave, arms crossing over your chest as your bare legs remained parted around Mizu's waist. You felt so much more exposed than ever before, yet there was a sense of safety that came from the tenderness in her cobalt irises. Your eyes locked with hers, searching each other as her fingertips trailed down your arms, feathery touches tickling over your waist and navel as they approached the most private spot where the inside of your thighs began.

"Again..." Mizu said gently yet firmly, with a slight tremble in her voice, "you can tell me to stop."

You shook your head, more curious than nervous about what was to come. Instinctively, you knew where her hand would go. You wanted her to touch you there. You just weren't sure what she would do when—

"OH!"

The unexpectedly overwhelming pleasure of her soft touch brushing over your nub sent your back arching, eliciting a wantonly moan that was much louder than you would've allowed, and Mizu's mouth fell upon yours immediately to silence you. But it was difficult to keep your voice down when her fingers felt so heavenly swiping over the sensitive button hidden in the damp folds. You writhed under her, your knees held apart by her hips as her free arm wrapped around your arched waist to keep you steady. As she drank your surprised mewls, her fingertip petted your moist lips lovingly at your damp entrance, circling over them with a gentle pressure as her knuckles pressd onto your nub.

"Mizu," you cried between breaths against her lips, body tensing up as the ecstasy grew intense, "I—how—"

"Shh," she whispered. "Breathe. Let your body ease into it."

"I—I can't!" you gasped, feeling your walls pulsing quicker, harder as the slick dampness trickled out of you, your walls begging for something to squeeze down on. "I need more of you." It was the only way it made sense to say it. "Please..."

Mizu's mouth pressed harder against yours almost reluctantly, as if she enjoyed hearing you plead. Her fingertips pressed tentatively at the edges of your entrance, exhaling sharply as she collected your nectar to glide up your slit and carress your bud with care, only making you squeal into her mouth.

"This is how you should get," she muttered breathlessly against your tongue, "or it'll hurt when it goes in."

"W—hat goes in?" you stammered. [A/n: was gonna make the "Inserts himself? Inserts himself where?" reference from Bridgerton s3 over here lol]

She didn't give you time to think as a slender digit slipped into you easily, causing your jaw to drop and all air to be lost from your lungs with the way your walls closed around her fingers with unquenchable thirst. "Fuck!"

Your words were lost to her lips once more as another finger slipped in, stretching you out comfortably, but it was the way your canal contracted around them that sent intense waves of pleasure throughout your entire core, jolsting your hips against her palm that cupped your vulva. If her fingers inside you weren't already driving you crazy, the pressure of her palm's heel on your clit was definitely doing it. And before you could even process how the overwhelming fervor consumed your body, she began to pump her fingers inside you.

Slowly.

You were forcing yourself to breathe at this point as the pleasure seized every muscle in your body, trying to comprehend Mizu's digits sliding out teasingly with your walls begging for them to not leave, before she rammed them back into you deep enough to knock her knuckles against your lower lips, sending shockwaves through your entire body. The sound of it, her skin and bone against your thick coating of wetness, only added to the arousal, and Mizu finally stopped kissing you to let you breathe, looking down at you with a daze like wonder as her hand moved once more, thrusting into your core deeply, rigorously, her fingertips finding a particularly sensitive spot in the depths of your crevice that pulled strangled mewls and cries from your lips.

"Everyone's going to hear you," Mizu chuckled deeply. "You have to try being quite. Breathe."

She held you close, her warmth pressing through her clothes and onto your bare body as her lips savored your neck with a gentleness that opposed the way she pumped into you with vigor. The sweetness of her kiss riddled your head with euphoria, making you lightheaded. You could barely keep your eyes open anymore against the budding pleasure in your core, rendering you senseless.

Your hands flailed over her body for grounding as you begged her to keep going, your fingernails digging into her shoulders, breasts bouncing against her chest from the force of her thrusts, and your form instinctively curling against her. You could feel yourself getting sore, but you didn't want her to stop as a sensation in your core pulled like a band, growing tighter and tighter until, suddenly, it released with a sharp snap.

"MIZU!" you cried out, your spine arching like a snapped twig as your hips jumped, pulling your pelvis off her fingers as a violent shudder of bliss ebbed throughout to gush from you like an endless river. Mizu's hand slapped onto your mouth to contain your moans, and you tried to catch your breath, each inhale softening the intensity of whatever addictive buzz had overtaken you. The trembling came from your bones, rendering your twitching body limp in Mizu's arms as she fell away onto her back and pulled you close, reaching out for your undone robes to drape over you before wrapping you in her arms securely.

"That..." you huff as you hid your face into her shoulder, "that was really...um..."

"Yeah," she said softly. "Except it won't be his fingers inside you."

"Shut up," you groaned. "I don't want to talk about him right now."

She chuckled. "If you wanted to bed me, you could've just asked instead of using your wedding night nerves as an excuse."

You smacked her chest with your fist, but it didn't silence her. You were still twitching, but the high of the pleasure had died down quite a bit, leaving you exhausted like never before. It was hard to keep your eyes open, but the fear of waking up to Mizu gone kept your fingers clutched on her haori.

"Please don't leave me like this..." you muttered. "Don't...don't go away."

She patted your back almost affectionately. Well, it felt like it at least. "I'm here for a little while. Don't worry."

Though you didn't quite believe her, you decided to accept it before finally allowing yourself to be lulled to sleep.

⋅ ⚔ ⋅

─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────── A/n: NGL my insecurity about my writing skills have come back. Been working on it in therapy but maybe this is something that will stay. I just need to make the concious decision to persist regardless of how negatively I feel about my craft. ─────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────────

#mizu #bes #blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x you #mizu x y/n #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #wlw content #lesbian pride #yuri #lesbian writers

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w1w2 · 1 month ago

Text

Bored

Part 1 | Part 2 - But I'm Not the One To Keep | Part 3

Ningning x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 9,5k

Synopsis: Ningning, a charismatic heartbreaker known for her fleeting romances, finds herself unprepared for the depth of her feelings when she meets Y/N.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Ningning dorm room was dim, illuminated only by the faint, cold glow of laptop screen. The cursor blinked on a blank document like a silent taunt, its rhythmic flicker the only movement in the otherwise still room. Papers and notebooks were strewn across her desk in disarray, remnants of unfinished assignments she couldn’t muster the energy to complete. The guitar she usually turned to for solace leaned against the desk, its polished surface catching the faint light, but tonight, even it felt like a stranger to her.

The vibrant personality of her space, walls adorned with colorful posters of her favorite artists and shelves crammed with knick-knacks collected over the years seemed muted, almost mocking in its cheerfulness. The once comforting clutter felt stifling, closing in on her like a weight she couldn’t shake.

Ningning sat cross legged on her bed, her comforter twisted into a heap beside her. She leaned back against the headboard, her head tipped slightly upward as if searching for answers in the shadowed ceiling. Her hands dragged through her hair, fingers catching on tangles she hadn’t bothered to comb out, before falling limply to her lap.

The room was silent except for the occasional hum of a passing car outside her window, but inside her mind, it was deafening. The echo of her own voice reverberated with cruel clarity

"You knew what this was, Y/N. Don’t act like I promised you forever."

Her words played on an endless loop, hollow and sharp, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She could still see the exact moment they landed, as if watching a replay in slow motion. The way Y/N’s expression had faltered, those warm, expressive eyes dimming with hurt, the way her shoulders had dropped, as if burdened by a weight too heavy to carry.

Ningning groaned, the sound raw and broken as it slipped from her lips. She squeezed her eyes shut, as though she could will the memory away, but it only grew sharper in the darkness. The image of Y/N lingered, unrelenting.

She saw her on the rooftop again, bathed in starlight, the words spilling out of her with hesitant courage

"I think... I’m starting to fall for you."

The vulnerability in Y/N’s voice had terrified Ningning. It had been too much, too real, too honest. Her instinct had been to retreat, to guard herself against the kind of raw emotion that threatened to unravel her carefully constructed facade. Vulnerability was dangerous. It asked too much and gave too little in return.

But Ningning couldn’t stop seeing Y/N’s face, that fragile hope that had been shattered. She let out a shaky breath, her chest tightening as if caught in a vice. Why had she said those things? Why had she hurt the one person who made her feel like she was worth more than the labels she carried?

Her gaze darted to her phone, lying face down on the nightstand. The urge to pick it up, to type out an apology, burned in her chest, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her fingers twitched, as if sensing the weight of the words she could never take back.

Instead, she reached for her guitar, but her hand faltered halfway. What good would it do? She already knew the melodies wouldn’t soothe her tonight. She felt hollow, as if every note she played would ring false.

She slumped forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her head cradled in her hands. The stillness of the room seemed to press against her, amplifying the ache in her chest. Her own thoughts suffocated her, circling back to Y/N over and over again. Her laughter, her steady presence, her way of making Ningning feel seen without asking for anything in return.

She had let that go.

Now, left alone in the quiet of her room, Ningning couldn’t outrun the truth. The silence amplified the very feelings she was trying to suppress, and the walls of her sanctuary felt less like a haven and more like a prison.

She whispered into the stillness, her voice trembling with the weight of her regret “What the hell have I done?”

Her mind betrayed her, pulling her back to that first, vivid memory of Y/N. It had been an ordinary afternoon, the kind Ningning had spent a hundred times before flitting through the campus café between classes, basking in the attention of passing smiles and casual greetings. But this time had been different.

Ningning had stopped short as her gaze landed on the girl sitting by the window, her head bowed over a notebook. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the glass, wrapping around her like a halo. Strands of her hair, slightly tousled, caught the golden light, and her brow furrowed in concentration gave her an air of quiet determination that Ningning found unexpectedly captivating.

Her breath hitched, her casual confidence faltering for the first time in years. There was a magnetism about Y/N, an unspoken aura that drew Ningning closer without effort. She found herself staring, caught between curiosity and an unfamiliar sense of longing. It wasn’t just Y/N’s appearance, though Ningning would later recall with a smile how beautiful she’d looked in that moment, but the way she seemed completely at ease, oblivious to the bustling café around her.

Ningning had hesitated for a fleeting second, something she never did, before making her way over and sliding into the seat across from Y/N. She flashed her most confident smile, the one that usually won over even the most reserved of hearts. “Mind if I join you?” she had asked, her voice light and playful.

Y/N had blinked up at her, startled, her pen pausing mid stroke. There was no wide-eyed awe, no immediate disarming smile in response. Instead, Y/N’s gaze was polite but wary, a quiet guardedness that intrigued Ningning. It was a challenge, one she couldn’t resist.

In the weeks that followed, Ningning had sought out opportunities to be near her. She told herself it was casual curiosity at first, something about Y/N’s calm demeanor and dry wit made her stand out. But the truth was something far more consuming. Ningning found herself watching for Y/N in the library, lingering outside engineering labs with excuses that felt increasingly flimsy.

The little things.

That’s what had undone her.

It was the way Y/N’s laugh bubbled up, completely unrestrained, when Ningning teased her about her “intimidating” thermos of coffee. It wasn’t a soft chuckle or a polite giggle, it was full-bodied, genuine, and infectious, the kind of laugh that made Ningning feel like she’d accomplished something extraordinary just by being the cause of it.

It was the way Y/N scrunched her nose when concentrating on her engineering projects, her lips pursing in a way that Ningning found inexplicably endearing. It made her want to sit closer, to nudge Y/N’s elbow and ask about whatever brilliant thing she was working on, just to see that focus shift to her for a moment.

And it was the way Y/N always seemed to have an extra cup of coffee ready when Ningning showed up unannounced, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she handed it over. “Figured you’d need this,” she’d say, and Ningning’s heart would stutter at the casual care in her voice.

Ningning had never felt seen like that before, not in a way that mattered.

The rooftop.

Her heart clenched as she thought of that night, the memory vivid and bittersweet. The stars had been scattered across the sky like glittering promises, but all Ningning had been able to focus on was Y/N. She had looked radiant, her eyes reflecting the faint glow of the city lights below.

Ningning had joked about constellations, trying to lighten the moment, but the air between them had grown heavy with something unspoken. And then Y/N had turned to her, her voice trembling as she said, “I think... I’m starting to fall for you.”

The words had struck Ningning like a lightning bolt, leaving her breathless. For a moment, she had been frozen, caught between the overwhelming rush of emotions surging through her and the fear she could never quite outrun.

When she had leaned in to kiss Y/N, it hadn’t been an impulsive act, it had been deliberate, tender, and charged with all the feelings Ningning didn’t know how to put into words. The softness of Y/N’s lips, the warmth of her touch, the way she had leaned into Ningning like she belonged there, it was perfect in a way that made Ningning’s chest ache.

But perfection had its price, and Ningning knew all too well what it felt like to fall short. She had seen it in the faces of her past relationships, the disappointment that flickered in their eyes when they realized she couldn’t give them the love they wanted, the hurt when her walls refused to come down, the longing in their voices as they asked her why she couldn’t just stay.

She had tried, once or twice, to explain it, but the words always failed her. How could she describe the way love seemed to suffocate her the moment it became too real? How the very idea of being someone’s everything made her chest tighten and her instincts scream to run?

The cycle had become predictable. She would charm her way into someone’s life, bask in the glow of their affection, and then pull away the moment things grew serious. She had convinced herself it was better this way, better to leave before she could cause too much damage, better to slip away before they saw the cracks in her.

So when Y/N had opened her heart, when she had stood under the stars and said those words with such trembling honesty, Ningning had panicked. The vulnerability in Y/N’s voice had terrified her, made her feel exposed in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

Her instinct had taken over. She had pushed Y/N away, her words sharp and cutting, designed to hurt. To end things before they could begin. “You knew what this was, Y/N. Don’t act like I promised you forever.”

Now, in the stillness of her dorm room, those words echoed like a curse, each syllable clawing at her chest.

“Better to hurt her now,” she muttered bitterly, her voice cracking as she spoke the lie aloud, “than later.”

The words felt like ash on her tongue, bitter and hollow. No matter how many times she repeated them, they failed to convince her. She knew she had done it to protect herself, to shield her heart from the inevitability of failure. But instead of finding relief, she had only magnified the ache in her chest.

The memory of Y/N’s face as she walked away haunted her. That mix of hurt and disbelief, the way her voice had faltered as she tried to ask Ningning why. Y/N had deserved an explanation, deserved more than Ningning’s cowardice, but Ningning hadn’t known how to give it.

And now it was too late.

Ningning’s whispered question What the hell have I done? hung in the suffocating stillness of her dorm room, unanswered. She sat there for what felt like hours, her mind replaying the same memories, the same regrets, until her phone buzzed again.

Her gaze flickered to the screen, where Aeri’s name lit up with a simple message “Studio. Now. You can’t avoid this forever.”

Ningning sighed, dragging herself off the bed. Her limbs felt heavy, her chest tighter with every step she took to gather her things. Avoidance wasn’t an option tonight, and deep down, she knew she couldn’t keep running from her feelings. If she couldn’t face Y/N, maybe she could at least pour everything into a song.

Grabbing her guitar, she left the room, her mind clouded with doubts and melodies that refused to settle.

The studio was bathed in the soft, artificial glow of overhead lights, casting long shadows across the soundproofed walls. The padded panels seemed to absorb every sound, muting the outside world and leaving only the faint hum of equipment and the low crackle of static from the speakers. It was a space Ningning usually loved, a sanctuary where she could lose herself in the rhythm of creation.

But tonight, the familiar comfort was absent, replaced by a weight she couldn’t shake.

She sat hunched over her guitar, her posture unusually tense, her fingers idly plucking a melody that had been haunting her for days. The notes were soft, tentative, like they were afraid to fully form. The polished wood of the guitar felt smooth under her fingertips, but instead of grounding her, it only made her feel more adrift.

Aeri was at the control panel, her sharp focus cutting through the room’s lethargy. She twisted a knob with practiced ease, muttering to herself about reverb and equalization. The glow of the monitor reflected off her glasses, and every so often, she glanced at Ningning, her brow furrowing with quiet concern.

Jimin was sprawled on the couch in the corner, her phone screen illuminating her face as she scrolled lazily. Every few minutes, she would let out a soft snort or chuckle, likely at some meme or post that caught her attention. The casual ease with which she lounged felt at odds with the tension radiating from Ningning.

The room buzzed with life, yet Ningning felt miles away. The low hum of the equipment, the faint static breaking through the speakers, even the comforting presence of her friends none of it could drown out the storm in her head.

“Earth to Ning,” Aeri’s voice cut through the haze, jolting her out of her thoughts. Aeri swiveled her chair around to face her, arms crossed. “You gonna sing, or are we just gonna stare at each other all night?”

Ningning blinked, her fingers faltering over the strings. She forced a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just... give me a minute.”

Her voice sounded distant even to her, like it belonged to someone else. She gripped the neck of her guitar a little tighter, as if the familiar weight might anchor her in the present.

Aeri exchanged a glance with Jimin, who set her phone down with a small sigh. “You’ve been like this for days,” Jimin said, her tone casual but her gaze sharp. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Ningning replied too quickly, the word slipping out like a reflex. She cleared her throat and tried to soften her tone. “I’m just tired. Long week, you know?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she leaned back, kicking her feet up on the arm of the couch. “Well, whatever it is, you’d better get it out before we start recording. No half-assed vocals, okay?”

Aeri nodded, her expression softening. “Yeah. We’re not rushing this, Ning. If you need more time—”

“No,” Ningning interrupted, her voice firm but strained. “I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

Aeri hesitated for a moment before turning back to the control panel. Jimin gave a small shrug, picking up her phone again, but Ningning could feel their concern lingering in the air like an unspoken question.

She closed her eyes, gripping her guitar tighter as the melody echoed in her head. It was the only thing keeping her tethered, the one piece of her chaos that made any sense. But even as she prepared to sing, a part of her wondered if she was ready to face the emotions waiting on the other side of the music.

Her heart wasn’t in it, and they all knew it.

When she finally stepped into the recording booth, the familiar weight of the headphones pressed against her ears. The microphone stood before her, stark and unyielding, like a confessional waiting to unearth her deepest truths. She adjusted the mic stand slightly, stalling for time as the first chords of Bored began to play in her headphones.

Her fingers itched with the ghost of her guitar, but it wasn’t the melody she was struggling with, it was the lyrics. Every word felt like an admission, a raw fragment of herself laid bare for the world to see.

She closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her, and the memories followed, relentless and vivid.

It had been a warm afternoon, one of those rare, golden days where everything felt easy. She remembered sitting on the campus lawn with Y/N, the hum of distant conversations mingling with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Y/N had been bent over her notebook, her pen moving in slow, thoughtful strokes.

Ningning had plucked a small flower from the grass, a delicate splash of color against the green, and leaned forward with a grin. “Hold still,” she had said, tucking it carefully behind Y/N’s ear. The sunlight had caught in Y/N’s hair, her startled laugh soft and musical, and for a moment, Ningning had felt something unfamiliar bloom in her chest.

That laugh, that moment, it was still there, woven into the fabric of her song.

Her voice trembled slightly as she sang the opening lines.

“I’m so pretty in your head, boy, yeah Picking flowers, put ’em right behind my ear...”

The lyrics twisted the truth, but that was easier than admitting the vulnerability of the original memory. She poured her longing into each word, shaping them into a melody that felt bittersweet, like a smile hiding an ache.

Her voice grew stronger as she reached the chorus.

“Takin’ up a good rush, don’t try to fight it Paradise on Venus in your eyes...”

Y/N’s eyes flashed in her mind, bright and filled with something Ningning had never let herself name. The rooftop kiss followed, as it always did. She could still feel the warmth of Y/N’s hand resting lightly on hers, the weight of her gaze as she had said, “I think... I’m starting to fall for you.”

The words had sent a jolt through Ningning’s heart, a mix of exhilaration and panic that she hadn’t been able to untangle. And then she had ruined it.

Her voice faltered slightly, the weight of her regret pressing down like a physical force.

“Ning,” Aeri’s voice came through the headphones, soft but firm. “You’re doing great. Let’s take it from the top.”

Ningning nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She started again, pushing through the chorus and into the second verse, her voice carrying all the raw emotion she couldn’t bring herself to say out loud.

“Turning your hellos into goodbyes, I always come in hardcore...”

The words felt like a knife turning in her chest. She had turned Y/N’s soft hellos, her open heart, into something brittle and broken. She had pushed Y/N away, convinced it was for the best, but now all she could do was relive the moments they’d shared, clinging to them like lifelines in the emptiness.

She poured it all into the song, every ounce of guilt, every flicker of longing, every unspoken apology. When the final note faded, the silence that followed was deafening.

Aeri’s voice broke through again, careful and measured. “That was... intense. You okay, Ning?”

Ningning pulled the headphones off and set them down with trembling hands. “Yeah,” she lied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m fine.”

But as she stepped out of the booth, her chest felt hollow, and the ache that had driven her to create this song remained as sharp as ever.

Hours later, the studio was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the equipment and the soft clatter of Aeri’s keyboard. The raw recording of Bored played through the speakers for what felt like the hundredth time, every note polished, every vocal layer perfected.

Ningning sat slumped in a chair, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against her arm, the only outward sign of the storm brewing inside her. She stared at the monitor as if it held some answer she hadn’t yet found.

“Okay,” Aeri said, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “That’s it. It’s done.”

Jimin, who had been dozing on the couch, cracked an eye open and gave a lazy thumbs up. “Sounds killer. People are gonna eat this up.”

Ningning nodded faintly, but the weight in her chest didn’t lift. The song was done, polished to perfection, yet it didn’t feel like a triumph. If anything, it felt like a confession she wasn’t ready for the world to hear.

Aeri turned to her, her voice softer now. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Ningning replied automatically, though her voice wavered. She cleared her throat and forced a weak smile. “Just tired.”

Aeri didn’t press further, but the look she gave Ningning lingered, a mix of concern and something unreadable.

They listened to the track one last time, the haunting melody filling the studio. Ningning felt every word as if she were singing them again, the emotions sharper than before. When the final note faded, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

“It’s good,” she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else.

“It’s better than good,” Jimin said, sitting up and stretching. “This is the kind of song people are gonna remember.”

But as Ningning packed up her guitar and prepared to leave, all she could think was how much she wished she didn’t have to remember.

The song dropped three days later, and the reaction was immediate.

By the time Ningning woke up that morning, her phone was already buzzing with notifications. Social media was flooded with posts about Bored, clips of the song, glowing reviews, and endless comments tagging her name.

“@_imnotningning just gave us the ultimate heartbreaker anthem.” “Why does Bored sound so good and so savage at the same time?” “This song... wow. Ningning really said, ‘I’ll break your heart and make it a hit.’”

Jimin sent a screenshot of the streaming numbers to their group chat with a series of fire emojis “We’re blowing up. Told you.”

Ningning sat on the edge of her bed, scrolling through the messages and comments, her expression unreadable. Normally, she would have basked in the attention, maybe even posted a playful selfie with a “thank you” caption. But today, the praise felt hollow.

Her classmates were talking about the song too. Everywhere she went, cafés, hallways, even the library, someone was playing it. The haunting melody seemed to follow her, the lyrics spilling from speakers and headphones like they were taunting her.

She walked past a group of students sitting on the quad, their conversation carrying over to her ears.

“Did you hear Bored yet? It’s so good. Ningning really nailed the whole ‘heartbreaker’ vibe.” “Yeah, but like... do you think it’s just a song, or is she actually like that?”

She quickened her pace, her chest tightening.

Later that day, she sat in a corner of the café, her hood pulled low over her face. She watched from the shadows as a group of students queued up at the counter, one of them humming the chorus under their breath.

“Takin’ up a good rush, don’t try to fight it...”

Her stomach churned. They were celebrating the song, turning it into something bigger than it was ever meant to be. They didn’t know it wasn’t just a catchy tune, it was her. Her regret, her longing, her everything, laid bare for the world to dissect.

Jimin sent another text “People are calling this your best work yet. You okay?”

Ningning stared at the message for a long moment before typing a reply “Yeah. Just a lot to process.”

She didn’t hit send. Instead, she set the phone down and stared out the window, watching the world move on without her.

The song was a success. She should have been happy. But all she felt was the hollow ache that had been with her since the night she’d walked away from Y/N.

The praise was loud, but the silence in her heart was louder.

It was late when Ningning found herself wandering the campus, the cool night air brushing against her skin. The paths were quiet, lined with the faint glow of streetlights, their soft hum filling the silence. She had hoped the walk would clear her head, but instead, it only made the ache in her chest sharper.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, a notification about Bored. It was another tag, another comment praising her, another reminder of the song’s success. She didn’t even bother looking at it.

Her steps slowed as she approached the bench near the quad, tucked beneath an old oak tree. The sight of it stopped her cold. She hadn’t intended to come here, but her feet had carried her anyway, as if drawn by memory.

She could still picture Y/N sitting there, her face illuminated by the dappled sunlight filtering through the branches. Ningning had spent countless afternoons on that bench with her, sharing jokes, snacks, and moments of quiet that had felt like their own little world.

But now the bench was empty, and the silence around it felt deafening.

Ningning sank down onto the worn wood, the weight of her regret pressing her shoulders forward. She stared at the ground, her thoughts spinning in endless circles.

This is what you wanted, she told herself. You pushed her away. You said it was better this way.

But the words felt hollow, even in her mind. Every memory of Y/N burned brighter against the darkness of her guilt. She thought of Y/N’s laughter, the way it had filled the spaces between them, making everything seem lighter. She thought of the way Y/N had looked at her, her gaze steady and full of quiet affection.

And she thought of that night on the rooftop, the way Y/N’s voice had trembled as she confessed, “I think... I’m starting to fall for you.”

Ningning’s chest tightened, her hands curling into fists on her lap. She had been terrified in that moment, so scared of falling short that she had lashed out. She had thought she was protecting them both by ending it, but now it felt like she had only destroyed the best thing she’d ever had.

The quad was still, but her mind was anything but. Every line of Bored replayed in her head, the lyrics that had once felt like armor now cutting her like glass.

“Love ’til the end of the road, then I tend to get bored...”

The words had been true when she wrote them. At least, she had believed they were true. But now, sitting here alone, she realized how wrong she’d been. She wasn’t bored. She wasn’t indifferent. She was miserable.

Her hand drifted to her pocket, pulling out her phone. Her thumb hovered over Y/N’s name in her contacts. The urge to call, to apologize, to beg for another chance burned in her chest.

But what could she even say? I’m sorry for being a coward. I’m sorry for not seeing what I had until it was too late.

She opened her messages anyway, scrolling aimlessly through old chats. Y/N’s name sat near the top of her contacts, untouched since the day she had ended things. There was no new message waiting, no unread text to give her a sliver of hope.

She didn’t need to open their conversation to remember how it ended. She had ended it in person, face to face.

She remembered Y/N standing in front of her on the courtyard bench where they’d often met between classes, her arms crossed, her expression guarded yet hopeful. The question had come softly, without accusation:

“Ning, is something wrong? You’ve been... distant.”

Ningning had tried to shrug it off, playing the part of someone too preoccupied to care. “I’ve just been busy,” she’d said, her voice clipped.

But Y/N hadn’t let it go. “You’re canceling plans, avoiding me. Did I do something wrong?”

The crack in Y/N’s voice had nearly undone her, but Ningning had held firm. She had to.

“It’s not about you,” Ningning had replied after a long pause, avoiding Y/N’s gaze. “I just... I don’t think I can give you what you want.”

Y/N’s face had fallen, confusion and hurt flashing across her features. “What does that mean?”

Ningning had stood abruptly, running a hand through her hair as though she could smooth out the knots tightening in her chest. “It means you’re getting too attached,” she’d snapped, her voice rising defensively. “I didn’t sign up for this, Y/N. I’m not looking for something serious.”

Even now, sitting alone in the cold glow of the campus streetlights, she could still see the look on Y/N’s face as her words landed—the shock, the disbelief, and the crushing realization that followed.

Y/N had stood there, her shoulders stiff and her chin trembling, holding back tears. “You could have told me that from the start,” she’d said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Instead of letting me believe this meant something.”

Ningning had meant to respond, maybe even apologize, but the words had refused to come. All she could manage was a hollow echo of the line she had clung to like a shield: “You knew what this was, Y/N. Don’t act like I promised you forever.”

The memory struck Ningning like a blow, and she doubled over on the bench, her head in her hands.

Now, sitting alone on the bench, Ningning could still see the scene as clearly as if it were happening all over again. She could still feel the lump in her throat, the gnawing ache in her chest as she had watched Y/N leave, knowing she had just let go of something irreplaceable.

Her phone slipped from her hands, landing softly on the bench beside her. She pressed her palms to her face, her breathing shaky as tears threatened to spill.

“I miss you,” she whispered, the words breaking like a confession in the quiet night. “God, I miss you so much.”

The silence around her offered no comfort, only amplifying the emptiness she felt. She had tried to move on, tried to channel her feelings into the song, but it hadn’t worked.

The song was everywhere, on playlists, in cafés, on the lips of people she passed, but none of it mattered. Its success felt meaningless without Y/N.

The worst part was knowing she had done this to herself. She had pushed Y/N away, convinced it was the right thing to do, but now she wasn’t sure she even knew how to fix it.

As the first tear slipped down her cheek, Ningning let herself cry. For the first time since their fight, she didn’t try to push the feelings away. She let herself feel the weight of it, the unbearable ache of missing someone who had once felt like home.

The world around her blurred, the quiet hum of the campus fading as her emotions overwhelmed her. She didn’t know how long she sat there, her tears soaking into her sleeves, but for the first time in weeks, she stopped pretending she was okay.

The song hadn’t been meant for the world, it had been meant for herself. She had written it thinking that putting her feelings into words, into melodies, would help her let go of them. She had hoped it would be an exorcism, a way to purge the ache in her chest and move on.

But now, as she sat alone on that bench, she saw how wrong she had been. The song hadn’t taken the feelings away. It had only magnified them. Every lyric, every melody, was her running from the truth.

And she wondered if Y/N, wherever she was, had heard it, and if she’d felt even a fraction of the emotions Ningning had tried to hide.

The song’s lyrics again played in her mind as she rose from the bench, the melody haunting her steps as she made her way back toward the dorms. Her feet felt heavy, each step a reminder of the ache in her chest that refused to fade.

She barely slept that night, her thoughts a relentless spiral of memories and regrets. By the time her alarm blared the next morning, Ningning felt like she’d been awake for hours, her body sluggish as she forced herself to get ready for the day.

Ningning burst through the doors of the lecture hall, her bag half zipped and her papers spilling onto the floor. A few heads turned her way, some with mild annoyance, as she scrambled to gather her belongings.

“Sorry,” she mumbled under her breath, avoiding eye contact as she hurried to an empty seat in the back. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but her mind was already elsewhere.

She pulled out a notebook and pen, but her hand stilled after the first few lines of the professor’s lecture. The words on the board blurred, her thoughts drifting to Y/N. She imagined the way Y/N used to say her name, soft and teasing, her voice carrying a warmth that Ningning hadn’t appreciated enough at the time.

Her pen began to move across the page, not writing notes but doodling aimless shapes in the margins. Flowers, stars, anything to distract herself. But even then, her mind betrayed her, filling the empty space with memories of Y/N’s smile, the way it lit up her whole face when she laughed.

A sharp cough snapped Ningning back to the present. She glanced up to find the professor’s eyes briefly meeting hers before moving on. Heat flushed her face again, and she quickly closed her notebook, pretending to follow along.

The class ended, and Ningning shoved her things into her bag, barely paying attention as she bumped into a few classmates on her way out. The hallway buzzed with chatter, the usual post-lecture hum of voices, but Ningning moved through it like a ghost, her mind clouded with thoughts she couldn’t shake.

She stepped into the quad, hoping for a moment of calm in the open air. The sun was warm on her skin, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees lining the path. For a brief second, she allowed herself to breathe.

And then she saw her.

Y/N sat under the large oak tree near the center of the quad, her back resting against the trunk. Chaewon and Yunjin flanked her, laughing at something Yunjin had just said. Y/N was laughing too, her head tilted back, the sound light and infectious.

Ningning froze mid step, her heart plummeting into her stomach. It felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

She hadn’t seen Y/N in weeks, not up close like this. The sight of her, her radiant smile, the way her hair caught the sunlight, was almost too much to bear. Y/N looked... happy. And it wasn’t Ningning who had put that smile on her face.

Her first instinct was to approach her, to cross the quad and find a way to talk. But before she could take a step, her doubts crept in. What would she even say? I miss you? I’m sorry? I didn’t mean any of it?

She couldn’t do it.

Before Y/N could notice her, Ningning ducked behind the nearest tree, pressing her back against the rough bark. She closed her eyes, willing her racing heart to slow down. The urge to look again was unbearable, but she forced herself to stay hidden.

The sound of Y/N’s laughter drifted to her, faint but unmistakable. Ningning peeked around the tree, just for a moment, and her chest tightened at the sight. Y/N was leaning forward slightly, her hand brushing against Chaewon’s as she spoke, her expression animated.

Jealousy twisted in Ningning’s gut, sharp and unforgiving. She hated herself for feeling it, knowing she had no right. Y/N had every reason to move on, to surround herself with people who wouldn’t push her away.

But the thought of Y/N finding happiness without her was unbearable.

Ningning bit her lip, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She stayed hidden until Y/N and her friends gathered their things and walked away, their laughter fading into the distance. Only then did Ningning step out from behind the tree, her legs trembling as she continued toward her next class.

Later, Ningning sat at a corner table in the café, her tray untouched in front of her. The low hum of conversations filled the air, punctuated by the clinking of mugs and the hiss of the espresso machine. Aeri and Minjeong sat across from her, animatedly discussing their latest group project, but their words barely registered.

Ningning stared down at her plate, her fork idly pushing a piece of lettuce back and forth. Her stomach felt hollow, but the thought of eating made her nauseous.

“Ning,” Minjeong said, her tone tinged with concern. “Are you even listening?”

Ningning blinked, looking up as if startled out of a dream. “What?”

Minjeong exchanged a glance with Aeri before leaning forward. “I asked if you’re okay. You’ve been... off lately.”

“I’m fine,” Ningning said quickly, her voice tight. She picked up her fork and stabbed at her salad, hoping it would make her look convincing. “Just tired, that’s all.”

Minjeong frowned, her skepticism clear. “You’ve been tired for weeks. Is something going on?”

Aeri nudged Minjeong with her elbow, cutting her off. “Let it go. She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Ningning felt a pang of guilt as Minjeong sat back, muttering under her breath. She knew her friends were trying to help, but the thought of explaining everything, the fight, the regret, the way she couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N, was unbearable.

“I’m sorry,” Ningning mumbled, her eyes fixed on her tray. “I’m just... distracted. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Aeri tilted her head, studying Ningning with a sharpness that made her squirm. “You sure that’s all it is?”

Ningning forced a smile, though it felt like her face might crack under the strain. “Yeah. Promise.”

Aeri didn’t look convinced, but she let it go, turning the conversation back to Minjeong. Ningning nodded along absently as they talked, her gaze drifting to the phone sitting on the edge of the table.

Y/N’s contact sat pinned at the top of her messages now. Ningning’s chest tightened as she stared at it, her fingers itching to pick it up, to type something, anything.

But what could she say that would make a difference?

She pulled her hand back, letting the phone sit untouched. The noise of the café pressed in around her, but Ningning felt utterly alone.

Later Ningning left feeling more exhausted than ever, the weight of her friends’ unspoken concerns lingering in the pit of her stomach. She had promised herself that she’d keep it together, but lately, even the smallest interactions felt like a struggle.

The next few days passed in a haze. Her routines blurred together, classes she barely paid attention to, meals she didn’t taste, music sessions that felt hollow. The song’s success continued to ripple through campus, but Ningning barely acknowledged it. The praise that had once thrilled her now felt meaningless.

Her friends noticed. Of course, they noticed.

So when Aeri texted her to meet up for coffee with Minjeong and Jimin, Ningning felt a flicker of apprehension. She knew they would ask questions. They always did. And she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep dodging them.

By the time she reached the agreed place, she was running late, her mind already spinning excuses.

The café was quiet, the midday rush long gone. The faint hum of soft jazz played over the speakers, mingling with the rhythmic clink of cups and the occasional muted laugh from a nearby table. The warm scent of coffee and pastries filled the air, but for Ningning, the atmosphere felt anything but comforting.

Aeri, Minjeong, and Jimin sat at a corner table by the window, their drinks half-finished, their conversation subdued. They weren’t laughing, weren’t chatting like they usually did. Instead, their focus was fixed on the door, their expressions tight with concern.

When Ningning finally walked in, their gazes snapped toward her in unison. She hesitated in the doorway, her heart sinking as she caught the looks they exchanged. This wasn’t going to be a casual hangout; she could feel it already.

Sliding into the seat across from them, Ningning dropped her bag onto the floor with a heavy thud. “Sorry,” she muttered, keeping her eyes on the table. “Lost track of time.”

Aeri leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she studied Ningning with a raised eyebrow. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Ningning’s hand shot up to her face instinctively, as if she could smooth away the evidence of her exhaustion. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, forcing a weak smile. “Just a lot on my plate right now.”

“Yeah, we can tell,” Jimin said dryly, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. “Look, we’ve been giving you space because we figured you’d come to us when you were ready, but you’re not getting better. You’re getting worse.”

Minjeong nodded, her voice softer but no less insistent. “We’re worried about you, Ning. You’ve been... off for weeks now.”

Ningning let out a short, strained laugh, her fingers toying with the edge of her sleeve. “What, do I need an intervention now? Relax, I’m fine. Just tired.”

The words felt hollow even as she said them, and judging by the silence that followed, they hadn’t convinced anyone.

Aeri leaned forward, her expression unusually serious. Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the tension like a blade. “You’re not fine, and we’re done pretending you are. Talk to us.”

Ningning shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hands gripping the edge of the table. She could feel their eyes on her, the weight of their concern pressing down like a lead blanket.

“It’s nothing,” she said weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just... stuff. I’ll figure it out.”

Minjeong frowned, leaning closer. “Does this have anything to do with Y/N?”

The question hit like a lightning strike. Ningning froze, her breath catching in her throat. She didn’t answer right away, but her reaction was enough.

Jimin leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed and her tone pointed. “You haven’t been the same since you broke things off with her. Have you even tried reaching out?”

Ningning’s fingers curled into fists in her lap, her jaw tightening. “It’s better this way,” she muttered, avoiding their gazes.

“Better for who?” Aeri asked, her tone sharp but not unkind.

“For her,” Ningning snapped, her voice cracking slightly. She swallowed hard, lowering her gaze. “I’m doing what’s best for her. She deserves better than me.”

Minjeong’s voice softened, her eyes searching Ningning’s face. “Is that really how you feel? Or is that just what you’re telling yourself?”

The question hung in the air, and Ningning struggled to find a response. She could feel the walls she had built around herself beginning to crumble under the weight of their words.

Jimin’s gaze was steady, her tone matter of fact as she broke the silence. “You’re miserable, Ning. Don’t act like you’re not.”

“I’m fine,” Ningning shot back, her voice rising slightly.

“No, you’re not,” Aeri said firmly, leaning forward. “You’re barely holding it together, and it’s not just affecting you. It’s affecting all of us. We’re worried about you, Ning. Whatever you’re carrying, it’s too much for you to handle alone.”

Ningning’s fingers curled around the edge of the table, her knuckles white. “It’s not your problem,” she muttered, her voice sharp and defensive.

“It is when we care about you,” Minjeong said softly. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Jimin tilted her head, her voice cutting through Ningning’s resistance. “You think pushing everyone away is helping? You think hiding from how you feel is going to make it go away?”

“It’s not that simple!” Ningning snapped, her voice trembling. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make us understand,” Aeri said, her voice softer now but still resolute. “We’re here, Ning. Stop running and talk to us.”

Ningning’s breath hitched, her chest tightening as the weight of their concern pressed down on her. She looked at each of them in turn, their faces filled with quiet determination, and for the first time, she felt the walls she had built start to give way.

Her hands trembled as she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I hurt her.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with regret. Ningning blinked rapidly, her vision blurring as tears welled up in her eyes. “I hurt her, and I can’t take it back. I pushed her away because I thought it was the right thing to do, but... but now, all I can think about is how much I messed up.”

Minjeong reached across the table, her hand brushing lightly against Ningning’s arm. “You made a mistake,” she said gently. “That doesn’t mean it’s the end.”

Ningning shook her head, her voice breaking. “You don’t get it. I’m the one who ruined everything. She trusted me, and I... I threw it all away because I was scared. Scared of screwing it up, scared of letting her get too close.”

Jimin leaned back, her voice softer now but still firm. “So instead of letting her in, you broke it off? That’s not protecting her, Ning. That’s protecting yourself.”

The words cut deep, and Ningning’s defenses crumbled completely. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly swiped it away, but the floodgates had opened.

“She’s better off without me,” Ningning whispered, her voice trembling. “I can’t give her what she needs. I’ll just mess it up again, and I can’t... I can’t put her through that.”

Aeri spoke then, her tone steady but kind. “You’re not giving her a choice, Ning. You decided for her, and now you’re both hurting because of it.”

Ningning’s shoulders shook as she buried her face in her hands, her tears coming freely now. She felt Aeri’s hand on her back, a steady presence that didn’t demand anything from her.

“It’s okay to be scared,” Minjeong said gently. “But it’s not okay to let fear control you. You can’t keep running from this, Ning.”

Jimin nodded, her voice softer than before. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. But you owe it to yourself, and to her to at least try.”

Ningning sniffled, lifting her head to look at her friends through tear-filled eyes. Their expressions were filled with quiet support, no judgment, just an unwavering belief that she could face this.

The weight of her conversation with Aeri, Jimin, and Minjeong lingered in Ningning’s chest as she walked across campus the next morning. The air was brisk, carrying the scent of damp earth from a recent rain, but it did little to clear her thoughts.

Her friends had been right, she couldn’t keep running. But knowing that and acting on it were two different things. She wasn’t ready to face Y/N yet. Every time she thought about reaching out, the fear of rejection, the fear of making things worse, held her back.

She sighed, pulling her bag tighter over her shoulder as she approached her next class. The last thing she needed was to spiral in front of her classmates.

But as she rounded the corner to the lecture hall, she froze. Yunjin and Chaewon were waiting by the door, their arms crossed and their expressions unreadable.

Ningning’s heart sank.

“Uh, hey,” she said cautiously, offering a weak smile.

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, her tone sharp. “We need to talk.”

Ningning hesitated, her gaze darting to the open classroom door like it was a lifeline. Her heart pounded as if it could somehow drown out the growing tension in the air. She felt cornered, exposed, and the sharp looks Yunjin and Chaewon were giving her only made it worse.

Before she could make a move, Yunjin stepped forward, her stance unyielding.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Yunjin said firmly. Her voice was steady, but there was no mistaking the edge in her tone.

Ningning’s stomach churned as the words sank in. Her fingers fumbled with the strap of her bag, and she looked to Chaewon, silently hoping for an out.

Chaewon placed a calming hand on Yunjin’s shoulder, her expression softer but no less resolute. “We’re not here to fight,” she said, her voice measured. “We just want answers.”

Ningning sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging under the weight of the moment. “Answers to what?” she asked, though the dread creeping into her chest told her she already knew.

“To why you hurt Y/N,” Yunjin said bluntly, her gaze cutting through Ningning’s defenses. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put her through?”

Ningning flinched, the accusation landing like a physical blow. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. The memory of Y/N’s hurt expression flashed in her mind, twisting her stomach into knots.

“I... I didn’t mean to hurt her,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But you did,” Chaewon interjected, her voice steady but heavy with meaning. “She’s been trying to move on, but it’s obvious she’s still hurting. And honestly? So are you.”

Ningning felt the heat rising in her cheeks, a mix of shame and defensiveness bubbling up inside her. Her grip on her bag tightened, her knuckles white.

“I’m fine,” she said tersely, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

“No, you’re not,” Yunjin snapped, her words cutting through Ningning’s facade. “We’ve seen how you’ve been acting, like a mess, avoiding everyone, barely holding it together.” She leaned in slightly, her tone biting but not unkind. “If you’re fine, then I’m a pop star.”

The last comment hung in the air, both sharp and oddly humorous, but Ningning couldn’t bring herself to respond. Her throat felt tight, and her chest ached with the weight of her emotions. She tried to hold her ground, but the truth was written all over her face, and Yunjin and Chaewon weren’t letting her run from it.

Ningning’s temper flared, the heat of frustration rising to her face. Her voice came out sharper than she intended. “I don’t see how this is any of your business.”

Her hands gripped the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white. The tension coiling in her chest felt unbearable, and lashing out was the only release she could find.

Yunjin didn’t back down. Instead, she stepped closer, her eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and determination. “It’s my business because Y/N is my friend,” she said, her voice unwavering. “She’s been there for me when I needed her, and I’m not going to stand by and watch her suffer because you can’t get your act together.”

The words struck a nerve, and Ningning’s jaw clenched as she fought to maintain her composure. She could feel the pressure building behind her eyes, but she refused to let it show.

Chaewon sighed, stepping slightly between them, her voice calm but firm. “We’re not here to attack you, Ningning,” she said, her eyes searching Ningning’s face. “But you can’t keep pretending this didn’t happen. You need to face it.”

Ningning shook her head, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “I don’t owe you anything,” she muttered, her fists curling at her sides.

“You don’t owe us anything,” Yunjin said, her tone softening slightly but losing none of its weight. “But you owe it to Y/N, and to yourself, to stop running and be honest about how you feel.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Ningning’s throat tightened, her defenses wavering as the truth pressed against her like a physical weight. Her voice cracked as she shot back, “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t feel like crap every single day for what I did?”

Chaewon placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, her voice soothing. “Then why not do something about it? Running away isn’t making it better, it’s only making it worse.”

“I’m scared, okay?” Ningning’s voice broke completely, and she felt the first sting of tears in her eyes. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know if I can.”

Yunjin’s gaze softened, and she let out a sigh, her arms uncrossing. “Ning, no one’s saying it’ll be easy. But if you care about her even half as much as we think you do, then you owe it to her, and to yourself to try.”

Chaewon nodded, her tone kind but firm. “We’re not against you, Ningning. We’re trying to help you.”

Ningning blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. The vulnerability she had been running from for so long felt like it was finally catching up to her, and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to keep holding it off.

Ningning’s facade cracked at the words, her composure slipping as the emotions she had been suppressing clawed their way to the surface. Her chest felt tight, her breathing uneven. She tried to hold it together, but the pressure was too much.

“You think it’s that easy?” she snapped, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and despair. Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she glared at Yunjin, though her expression was more pleading than hostile. “You think I don’t want to fix this? I don’t even know where to start!”

Her words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered.

Yunjin’s sharp expression softened slightly, though her stance remained firm. She took a step back, giving Ningning space, but her voice carried the same unwavering conviction. “You start by being honest,” she said simply. “With her, and with yourself.”

The directness of the statement left Ningning momentarily speechless. She looked down, her breathing shaky as her thoughts swirled chaotically.

Chaewon stepped closer, her voice gentle but resolute. “You care about her, don’t you?”

Ningning opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat, the weight of them too much to bear. Her lips parted in a silent attempt to speak, but no sound came. Instead, her eyes burned with unshed tears as she looked away, her gaze fixed on the ground.

The lump in her throat grew tighter, and the silence between them stretched until Yunjin broke it.

“You love her, don’t you?” Yunjin’s voice was softer now, almost tender, but the question hit like a punch to the gut.

The weight of the truth she had been avoiding pressed down on Ningning, and her shoulders sagged under its heaviness. She stumbled back, sinking onto the nearest bench as her defenses crumbled entirely.

Her hands trembled as they came up to cover her face, and her voice was thick with emotion when she finally spoke. “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, her words barely audible. “I’m scared. What if I mess it up again? What if she’s better off without me?”

Her confession lingered in the air, raw and vulnerable, and for a moment, the only sound was her quiet, uneven breathing.

Chaewon crouched down in front of her, resting a comforting hand on Ningning’s knee. Her voice was steady and reassuring, each word deliberate. “You won’t know unless you try. And I think she deserves to hear the truth, from you, not from anyone else.”

Ningning lowered her hands slightly, her tear-streaked face finally visible. She blinked at Chaewon, her lips trembling as she tried to absorb the words.

“What if it’s too late?” she asked, her voice breaking.

Yunjin stepped forward, her tone softer but still firm. “Then at least you’ll know you tried. But you can’t keep running from this, Ning. You owe it to both of you to face it, no matter how scary it feels.”

Ningning’s breathing slowed as the weight of their words settled over her. The fear that had been consuming her didn’t vanish, but for the first time, she felt a faint glimmer of possibility. Of hope.

Yunjin sighed, leaning back slightly. Her expression softened, though her tone remained firm. “Look, you don’t have to figure it all out right now,” she said, her voice measured. “But you need to talk to her. Be honest about how you feel, even if it’s messy.”

Ningning swallowed hard, the weight of the words sinking into her chest. Be honest. The very thought made her stomach churn. Honesty meant vulnerability, and vulnerability meant opening herself up to the possibility of rejection. Or worse, hurting Y/N again.

Chaewon nodded, stepping closer with a look of quiet determination. “We’ll help you,” she said gently. “We can set up a time for you to talk to her, somewhere private, where you won’t feel pressured. Somewhere you can just... be real with her.”

Ningning’s heart pounded as the thought took root. Her mind raced with the possibilities, each one more nerve-wracking than the last. What would she even say? How could she begin to fix the damage she’d caused?

But as terrifying as the thought of facing Y/N was, the alternative, living with the regret of never trying, was worse. The ache in her chest, the gnawing sense of emptiness that had consumed her since the day she pushed Y/N away, was unbearable.

Her gaze flickered between Yunjin and Chaewon, both of them watching her with expectant yet supportive eyes. Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap as she finally nodded.

“Okay,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do it.”

The words felt fragile, as if they might shatter under the weight of her doubt, but as they hung in the air, a small wave of relief washed over her.

Yunjin’s expression softened into a small smile, a mix of approval and reassurance. “Good. Because it’s about time,” she said, her tone lighter now but still carrying the weight of their earlier conversation.

Chaewon crouched down slightly, meeting Ningning’s gaze as she gently patted her shoulder. “You’re not alone in this,” she said, her voice steady and full of warmth. “We’ll be here every step of the way.”

The simple gesture, Chaewon’s hand on her shoulder, the sincerity in her voice, was enough to crack through Ningning’s lingering doubt. For the first time in weeks, she felt a flicker of something she hadn’t dared to hope for: a glimmer of hope.

It wasn’t going to be easy. She knew that. But as she looked at Yunjin and Chaewon, their expressions filled with quiet confidence in her, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to make things right.

The knot in her chest loosened slightly, and she let out a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she murmured, the words carrying a weight of gratitude she couldn’t fully express.

Chaewon smiled softly, standing back up and gesturing toward the hallway. “You’ve got this, Ningning. And when you’re ready, we’ll help you figure out the next step.”

Yunjin gave a playful nudge to Ningning’s shoulder as they turned to leave. “And don’t overthink it too much,” she said, her tone teasing but still supportive. “You’ve already made it this far. The hard part’s just beginning, but you’re tougher than you think.”

Ningning couldn’t bring herself to smile fully, but the faint curve of her lips was enough. As she watched her friends walk ahead, she realized that while the path ahead was uncertain, she wasn’t walking it alone.

#kpop imagines #girl group imagines #gg x reader #kpop x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #ningning x fem reader #ningning x reader #ning yizhuo x reader

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kquil · 9 months ago

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DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER THREE

03 : SHOPPING (2/2)

CHPT. SUM. : so many stores are left on the list, the boys finally eat delicious food outside, detours are a natural endeavour and you meet a collection of interesting shopkeepers. what a day~

LENGTH : 10k

TAGS : fluff ; fun day out ; sirius and regulus being precious ; they're just kids ; reader is mother of the year ; reverse comfort ; OC ; visions ; original walburga makes an appearance ; she doesn't stay long though ; money isn't a problem ;) ; domestic fluff ; sibling fluff between sirius and regulus ; marauders fix-it-fic

← PREV. | 02 : SHOPPING (1/2) | SERIES M.LIST

“Two what?” Sirius asks, your attention snapping towards him and breaking contact with the grey-haired man standing before you.

“Do you need a new wand too, Mother?” Regulus speaks up from your other side, swiftly following after his older brother. It was clear from the differences in their elocution that they differed greatly. One was much louder, with a sharp tongue and an audacious attitude to boot; the other was of a more gentle demeanour, equipped with a clever mind and observant eyes.

Mr Ollivander leans back with an amused smile waiting to see how you’d react and whose question you’d answer first.

“The two of us need wands today, Sirius,” you hum, hoping your nerves don’t show through in your voice as you switch between the two. It was adorable how similar their curious looks appeared when staring up at you.

“Why is that?” your eldest asks curiously, the question reflecting similarly in your youngest’s eyes.

“My wand appears to be having some problems lately and, well,” you raise your gaze to meet eyes with the wand artisan behind the counter, “I was hoping Mr Ollivander could help the two of us today,” the light streaming in from the windows above reflects off Ollivander’s grey hair to create a glowing outline encircling him. His peculiar portrait reminds you of how idiosyncratic he is, like a living ghost who’s able to touch superior levels of magic and wonder. It's mysteriously intriguing but just as harrowing too. He was able to deduce so much after so short of an interaction, after all. You stare at him silently, a gentle prompt to help you and your eldest son with your homogenous need for a new wand.

“I like to focus on one client at a time,” the look he gives you offers up the decision of who should go first to be made by your small family.

Before you can say anything, Sirius speaks up with a light dusting of pink on his cheeks, “Ladies first, Mother,” he announces politely and your heart melts at his consideration. You coo and awe at his gesture while dropping down to his height where you press a loving kiss to his forehead.

“Thank you, my darling. You’re such a gentleman,” Sirius beams at your praise as Regulus meets his eyes to the right of you and grins widely. The two easily share in the small joys they’ve been able to experience around you. They don’t want to seem rude so the two of them secretly cheer at the headache you suffered to be able to change this drastically, “However," you comb your fingers through his hair lovingly, "you’re the star of the show today. Why don’t you go first, my dear?”

Sirius doesn’t refute, too distracted and pink-cheeked by your affection to do anything but nod. He then turns to Ollivander, who smiles down at him kindly. The oddness surrounding the wand artisan, however, cannot be missed and Sirius is cautious to proceed forward.

“Your name, young man?”

“Sirius Black,”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sirius. Please step behind the counter and we can get started on finding you the perfect wand, shall we?” Sirius glances one more time over his shoulder and observes the encouraging nod you give him; his heart calming from the reassuring pat you give atop his head. Another moment passes before he is led behind the counter by Ollivander. The elderly wizard proceeds to give him a short once-over before disappearing between two ceiling-tall shelves, stacked full of stored wands.

“Do you want to watch your brother find his wand, Regulus?” you ask, kneeling to level with your youngest.

“Yes please, Mother,” he nods with a shy smile, “but I don’t know if I’m allowed past the counter,”

“Don’t worry,” with a smile, you carry him up in your arms, “I can seat you on the counter instead,” for the brief moment you rise, he stays in your embrace. However, when you go to place him on the counter, you find that Regulus doesn’t want to be let go.

In a whisper, you ask if he’s alright, “Can you just hold me like this?...please?” His answering whisper melts your heart and you can't find it in yourself to say no. Even if your arms begin to ache, you aren’t going to set him down until he wants to be set down – you’re determined!

“You mean you don’t know which wand is for me?” Sirius’ words ring with curiosity more than judgment as he looks up at Ollivander.

“I’m afraid not, my boy,”

“Aren’t you supposed to know?”

Smiling fondly, Ollivander begins to explain the process, happy to answer the questions of a curious child, “Ultimately, it is the wand that chooses the wizard, Mr Black,”

Sirius contemplates Ollivander’s words for a moment as Regulus gasps in astonishment beside your ear. The awe and interest are evident in the youngest’s silently twinkling grey eyes, matching that of his elder brother. Their wonderment is clear and both are equally skilful in concealing it.

“How will I know that a wand has chosen me?

“You’ll know,” Ollivander nods. There’s something in his pale eyes that makes Sirius keep from asking anything further. Something that says ‘trust me’.

Together, you and Regulus watch over the counter as Sirius tests out a variety of wands.

At one point Sirius makes several misplaced papers catch fire, which makes you giggle quietly. Regulus stiffened in your arms momentarily at the sight of the sudden flames and only seemed to relax as soon as he heard your soft laughter. It isn't until he presses his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder that he finally draws your attention. It didn’t seem like an issue to press further about so you gave his small back a few reassuring rubs and continued to watch over Sirius – perhaps Regulus was feeling a little exhausted already. Despite the disastrous flames, Ollivander had the situation handled and simply magicked away the fire before rummaging around for a different wand, muttering softly to himself as he did so. It wasn’t until Ollivander came back with a jet-black wand with familiar-looking markings carved along its body that you smiled to yourself. This was the one.

“Try this...” Ollivander offers up the wand but after the previous incident, Sirius is much more hesitant to proceed. He was only able to resume the testing when Ollivander flashed him a kind, reassuring smile - though he remained hesitant and stiff. Sirius was too scared to turn and see your reaction to the commotion he had just caused. But it was an accident! Surely you’d understand– “Give it a wave, then, young man,” Ollivander's chuckle was able to ease some of the stiffness from his limbs as the markings beneath his fingers urged him for a sturdier grip before giving the black wand a small flick.

Appearing from the tip of his wand, a small circulating breeze moves through the room, not caring for the mess it makes of any unfiled papers nor the rattling it causes amongst the stacked boxes of wands. The breeze eventually returns to circle Sirius, ruffling his hair and clothes before eventually dying down to leave him looking bedraggled.

The result was quite confusing to the ordinary eye, which worried you, but not for the elderly wand artisan. Ollivander slaps his knee and throws his head back with a laugh. “Now that’s a match if I’ve ever seen one!” His words make Sirius stare up at him with wide eyes of disbelief.

“Really?”

Ollivander kneels beside him with a twinkle in his eye, “That’s quite a choosy wand, my boy. Wands made out of jet black Ebony are happiest when in the hands of those who are not afraid of being themselves, sticking to their beliefs no matter what external pressures there may be,” the elderly wizard’s words washed over Sirius and flooded him with a feeling of vindication. He felt light and there was a flutter in his chest. In his short life so far, it’s been so hard to adhere to his convictions, and he has never before felt so validated, “you, young man, have a very courageous heart,” Ollivander’s words make you smile widely.

You set Regulus down as Sirius makes his way back to you. The two brothers share a hug but Sirius is still unable to meet your eyes. It isn't until his younger brother pulls away from the embrace that Sirius finally wills himself to look up at you. Regulus can see the slight fear in his older brother’s eyes and he knows the exact cause; Regulus was scared too. Regardless, you haven’t done or said anything to further his fears so the younger brother tries his best to be optimistic and flashes his older brother a small smile as if to say ‘it’s going to be okay’.

Biting his lip, Sirius finally turns to find that you’ve come down to his height. Rather than a scowl on your face for his earlier misbehaviour with the discordant wands, he finds you smiling brightly at him instead. Before he could comprehend what was happening, you pulled him into your arms. One hand presses against the back of his head and encourages him to bury his face into your shoulder as the other splays across his small back to give him supportive pats.

Beside his ear, you whisper, “I’m so proud of you, Sirius,” pulling away your eyes find that his own have significantly watered, holding back tears. Tears of joy, you assess and deliver a small kiss on his forehead.

“You’re not mad at me? For setting fire to the papers earlier?”

“Of course not!” you protest and pull him into your tight embrace once more, “I’d be surprised if I don’t set something on fire when trying to find a new wand too,” he giggles against your shoulder and it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard, “I’m so so proud of you Sirius, you have your wand now, and you’re going to be attending Hogwarts soon,” you sigh into his dark curls and mutter against his temple, “Far too soon…”

Relieved by your reaction, Sirius can finally digest your words and the sincere tone behind them. He’s never heard his mother praise him or voice how she’s proud of him but here you were, whispering rare words for him to hear only. He doesn’t know if he could ever feel happiness like this ever again. It’s hard for him to even describe - he’s just so so happy.

It’s your turn to get a new wand now and the process is entirely the same. Ollivander goes through a selection of wands for you to test the feel of, giving each one a chance to see if they want to become your companion or not. After going through the first handful, you manage to light a stack of papers on fire yourself and when Ollivander swiftly distinguishes it, your group shares a laugh.

“See? I told you it would happen to me too,” you smile over your shoulder at Sirius who giggles with his little brother.

A few more inharmonious wands go by before Ollivander hands you one that's made of a light-coloured wood. The design of its body was very elegant and emulated a pattern that was reminiscent of vintage stone pillars. Widely spaced vertical ridges run along the main body and lead towards ornate, uniform designs that either look like curling leaves or crashing waves. It’s beautiful but what matters is whether or not the wand chooses you.

Flicking the wand, a spark of light escapes from the tip and you prepare yourself for another pile of papers to be set on fire. However, you’re pleasantly surprised when the light floats through the room as if it were swimming through water. It reaches Sirius and Regulus, where it proceeds to circle each of them before departing and leaving a warm touch that lingers on their cheek. The light eventually returns to you again, where it orbits your figure several times, enveloping your silhouette in an ethereal glow before disappearing. In its wake, it leaves a path of warmth that loiters in the air, suspended like the many particles of dust dancing in the light filtering in through the high windows.

Smiling in success, you hold the wand to your chest and turn to your boys who had begun to cheer for you. You could have easily lost yourself in the moment if it weren’t for your keen ears picking up on Ollivander’s mutterings. His words were all in a whisper and not meant for anyone else’s ears.

“How fascinating…” the elderly wizard smiles whimsically to himself again, “the singular wand whose properties are the precise opposite of the original became your destined companion,” you meet the pale, almost translucent eyes of the wand artisan, who smiles at you as soon as he finishes muttering to himself, “it’s truly an honour to be able to witness the pairing of an Applewood wand,”

“Why is that?” Regulus asks before you can even react. With a smile, Ollivander moves to the front of the counter and bows at the knees to his height. Their eyes lock like that of a patient but talented teacher and his diligent student.

“There are many properties of a wand that can be attributed to the reasons why it chose its ultimate owner, one of which is its wood. Your brother,” Ollivander gestures to Sirius, “has himself a wand that is made of Ebony wood, while your mother has herself one that’s made of Applewood. Applewood wands are very powerful indeed, I can assure you of that,” you find yourself leaning closer, eager to learn more, just as much as your two sons were to learn of their mother and the nature of wands, “their owners are typically ones who harbour ambitious goals and even higher principles. As a result, there stands a positive correlation between possessors of Applewood wands and the life they tend to live,” your breath remains trapped in your throat, held there by anxiety as you tensely anticipate Ollivander’s successive words, “they live a life that is long and where they are well-loved,” the relief was great and one that you were desperate to maintain. You know what you're setting out to do is going to prove a difficult challenge but it is going to be worth it, as long as your two boys are happy and by your side.

Together, both wands cost 14 galleons. And, despite the excitement you first held for meeting such a distinguished Harry Potter character, you were eager to leave, slightly scared of the amount of knowledge he potentially held. At the very least, you were able to depart on a good note

Naturally, the next order of business was to get all of Sirius’ robes and uniform at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions shop. That would be on the north side of Diagon Alley and, considering you were on the south side for Ollivander’s wand shop, you needed to direct your boys back up to the North. You admit, it was quite inefficient to go from Gringotts, which was North, to Ollivander’s (South), only to go back North when all the shops you had left to visit were up there. There were many shop names that you recognised on the way down, however, it was best to get the only singular South-side shop from your list out of the way so you could spend the rest of the afternoon easily hopping from shop to shop in the North-side.

“What’s wrong, darling?” you ask, noticing that Sirius has been staring off in one direction for some time, completely motionless and glued into place.

“Nothing… let’s go,” he grabs a fistful of your dress’ skirt but you already noticed what had captured his attention.

“A joke shop…” a small grin tugs on the corners of your lips. You remember the child-like wonder that washed over you whenever you watched the scenes featuring Fred and George Weasley’s joke shop. This joke shop isn't theirs but you wonder if it’s just as remarkable.

Sirius had no hope of ever convincing you to take a look, especially when most of today would be packed full of shopping at other shops for his supplies as a first year. In his insecurity, Sirius was only able to muster a quiet, “...yeah…”

“What a good idea,” you smile brightly and take both their hands into yours, heading in the direction of the shop happily named, ‘Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop’, “Let’s have a little look shall we? A small detour like this can’t do much harm,” Sirius was smiling from ear to ear as soon as he overcame the shock your agreement brought, “Although, I'm afraid I won’t consider buying anything,” a treat like that is meant for another time...

“That’s okay!” Sirius cheers and hurries along, making it to the door before you could and holding it open for you.

You’re beginning to realise a recurring discrepancy between the size of a shop’s exterior compared to its interior space; the joke shop is considerably larger on the inside compared to its outside appearance. It added to the joke factor of the store itself - how funny that it appeared so deviously small on the outside.

The entrance was lined with shelves filled with an assortment of joke items, all were vibrant and eye-catching. It was hard to enforce any form of restraint when your eyes couldn’t stay in one place too long, nor could your feet. There were several other children with their parents roaming the galleries of jokester paraphernalia too. Only then were you finally able to focus your gaze on your two, fascinated boys, not wanting to lose them.

“How undignified!” your eyes roll at the scratchy, annoying voice that invades your head once more, “No child of mine should ever be seen in a Joke Shop!”

“Oh Shut up, let my kids be kids,” you retaliate, folding your arms loosely as you observe Sirius dragging around his younger brother by the hand. Regulus happily heeds, not needing to be dragged to be able to shadow his older brother. Nevertheless, their small hands remain connected. The scene made you smile warmly, they’re the cutest boys you’ve ever – you want to prolong their happiness and give them as many opportunities as possible to experience the same delights over and over again.

“THEY’RE NOT YOUR KIDS!”

“YES. THEY. ARE!” shaking away Walburga’s shrill screams, you try to focus on the ground beneath you. It’s best to end this argument quickly, you don’t want to faint in the middle of a joke shop and ruin the day for your two boys; it's barely started.

You didn’t prolong your stay but enough time was spent there for you to witness Sirius’ certain appeal towards a particular item: a purple box of stink pellets. Smiling to yourself, you make a mental note of the fact before leading your two boys out and back to the north side of Diagon Alley.

It’s a relief that most shops offer delivery services, you don’t believe you would be able to carry all of your purchased items home.

At Madam Malkin’s, you bought all the necessary uniforms and robes for Sirius to have. Being an established house and family, you were attended to right away despite your insistence on no special treatment. Sirius was then measured and the appropriate sizes for his robes and other items were brought back to be tried on. He looked somewhat embarrassed from the attention but you couldn’t help yourself. There are many joys of being a mother and one of them was the ability to brag about how beautiful and exemplary your child was. To anyone within earshot and to those who, both, cared and didn’t care to listen, you openly talked their ear off about Sirius. Said son grew redder and redder with each expression of praise that left your lips without an ounce of hesitation.

Was he hearing right? You're just joking with him...but you sound so sincere. Surely those other people don't care, why are you such talk on them?!

“He looks all grown up, I’m so so proud of him,” Sirius’ ear tinted a faint red.

“I worry that he’ll attract too many girls’ attention and grow a bad reputation over breaking too many hearts. But, then again, look at his handsome face, of course, they would fall for my son,” Sirius looks to the side, trying to find interest in the cracks of the shop’s walls -- a weak attempt at distracting himself from the flames in his cheeks.

“I can already tell! He’s going to achieve so many great things, I just know it!” Sirius looks over and narrows his eyes at his giggling younger brother. Wait until he has to go through the same thing when he starts his first year!

“Yes yes, I know your son looks wonderful in his robes too but look at my son! His robes look like they were made for him!” try as he might, Sirius can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips. His heart swells up in his chest and threatens to burst from the amount of happiness your endless praise fosters in him.

Just as the checklist states, you made sure to get three sets of plain work robes in black, a pointed hat, a protective pair of dragon hide gloves, a black winter coat with silver fastenings and, lastly, name tags to attach to all items. The total amounted to 28 galleons and 44 sickles. Madam Malkins offered a service that stitched on the name tags for you but you kindly refused. It’s a tedious task but you wanted to stitch the name tags on yourself; you had the time and you wanted to do your due diligence as a mother. This is your job and you aren’t going to hand it over to anyone else. You were told to expect the owl delivery within a week.

“How about a break?” you suggest upon seeing a sudden fall in your boys’ energy. Their once slumped shoulders suddenly tense and the two peer up at you with cautious eyes. Despite the amount of progress you’ve made in cultivating a mutual rapport with them, it appears that some phrases put them on high alert regardless of the harmonic atmosphere.

“It’s okay mother,” Regulus hurriedly assures, his smile now much smaller and wrinkled at the edges from superficially conjectural nerves.

“Yeah, we’re not tired, we can continue shopping just fine,” Sirius continues, reaching out to hold hands with his brother as they stand before you with identical ambivalent expressions. It breaks your heart. Their words are simple but their actions are heavily veneered by a thin veil of coy nonchalance.

“Aren’t you two hungry?” you ask, crouching down to meet at their level, where you’ve gotten into the habit of being able to converse deeply with them. Keeping their gaze, holding each other’s attention and listening closely has led to so much understanding and that’s all you want with them.

They look at each other from your question. Sirius can see the obvious hesitation in his younger brother’s eyes and he gives his hand a small squeeze. Usually, Sirius was the more outspoken one, never letting his fears show while allowing his tongue to run and verbalise all the thoughts and opinions in his head. It was his small bit of freedom in a house that was so set on censoring him and his many opposing views, despite his young age. Oftentimes, his parents would guilt him into thinking that he was being a bad influence on Regulus, simply by voicing his views, which are usually opposite to those of his parents. Regulus had a much softer disposition, however. While Sirius carried about smug confidence and had a deficiency for self-preservation, Regulus reigned in studiousness and quiet wit. Sirius knows that his younger brother is gifted but his bright mind shouldn’t be cultivated under such oppressive practices and methods. If that happened, Sirus feared that his darling, little brother's gift would be reduced to nothing. There's no way that Sirius would let that happen to his baby brother, which is why he’s so vocal! But… what's changed?

Now he was hesitating, his throat clogged up, his palms were sweaty…he was scared. Scared to have you look at him with disapproval or disappointment. Sirius doesn’t know what happened to you, his mother, but you’re different now, he wants to love you and be loved in return. You’ve shown him that you can give the tenderness he desires, you’ve proven that he’s loveable and that he’s worth your time and attention.

He’s scared because if he makes a single misstep now… he’s going to lose that. It’s much harder losing something you’ve known, felt, and experienced than losing something that never existed in the first place…

“My dears?” you whisper with concern, leaning forward ever so slightly with furrowed brows of worry, “what’s wrong?”

“We’ll have to go home to eat…” Regulus confesses softly. He avoids your eyes as he fiddles with the hem of his long-sleeved shirt and completely misses the confused look on your face.

“It is not proper to conclude important errands prematurely,” Sirius explains as if reciting from a rulebook, “...and we don’t want to go home yet either…”

“We’re not stopping entirely,” you reassure, petting their soft hair affectionately and rewarding them with a kind smile as soon as they raise their hopeful faces to you, “we’re just having a lunch break, my loves,”

“You mean…” Sirius begins.

“We’re eating outside?” Regulus continues. Both look astonished at the notion.

“Of course, it’s better than eating back at home,” it then occurs to you a simple explanation for their odd behaviour, “Do you two not want to eat outside?”

“No!” Sirius jumps over-excited before a flash of realisation flourishes in his grey eyes and he quickly drops back, “No, it’s not that, m-mother,”

“W-we’ve just never eaten outside before,” Regulus explains shyly, “you have us on a strict dietary regime as a proper gentleman wizard of the Black family should be,”

“I’m putting a stop to that ridiculous ‘diet’ as soon as we get back,” they perk up at you but are quickly ushered forward to the nearby pub; unable to press you further on the matter.

Stepping into the Leaky Cauldron, you're greeted by the comforting aroma of hearty meals, mingling with the faint scent of crackling firewood and a faint fog of cigarette smoke. The space is a cosy retreat from the chaotic cobblestone streets outside. From the ceiling hangs several candle-lit chandeliers made of blackened iron, its flickering lights casting a warm glow upon the worn wooden tables and mismatched chairs positioned about the room. The walls are lined with shelves displaying an eclectic assortment of magical curiosities - from peculiar potion ingredients preserved in jars to enchanted artefacts that seem to hum with hidden power. An array of portraits decorate two parallel walls above brick archways. The portraits contain inky sketches that move about freely, some interacting with other portraits as a few characters walk between the varying displays. You guess they might be disappointed to realise that their selection of landscapes are largely the same - plain - but having the freedom seemed sufficient for them to stay jovial enough. At the heart of the room stands a grand fireplace, its flames dancing merrily within its brick frame. Its ochre light casts playful shadows across the room, socialising with the silhouettes of fellow bar guests.

Lighting within the pub relied heavily on candles so the atmosphere was quite dim but the tall candle illuminating the centre of your table gave the time spent there a very idyllic ambience. The two were unfamiliar with the menu items so, with their permission and trust, you ordered in their place.

Since Sirius didn’t mind what he got, you ordered for him Hunter’s Chicken. Regulus said he had a liking for fish so you got him a classic plate of Fish and Chips. For yourself, you got the cottage pie. For drinks, they got apple juice while you had a hot tea. Thinking back on the bland meals served at the Black family household, you’re certain that they were in for a treat today.

It doesn’t take long for the meals to be given out after your beverages; thankfully all of your entrees were delivered together. In front of Sirius were two succulent chicken breasts wrapped in smoky bacon and smothered in a rich and tangy barbecue sauce, baked to golden-brown perfection.

He takes his first bite and moans in amazement at the taste. The tender chicken yields effortlessly to reveal layers of savoury goodness - the sweet and smoky notes of the bacon harmonising with the bold tanginess of the barbecue sauce. Every mouthful he takes thereafter struggles between going slow or fast, the symphony of textures and tastes, leaves him craving more of the hearty dish. He doesn’t think he’s ever tasted something so appetising. Why couldn’t the food at home taste like this?

Regulus had before him a plate displaying a golden fillet of flaky fish. It’s encased in a light and crispy batter, served alongside a generous helping of thick-cut, crispy-on-the-outside-fluffy-on-the-inside chips, garden peas and a small ceramic of tartar sauce. Having not seen this appearance of a fish dish before, Regulus looks up at you with a curious look as if to say ‘What is this?’. You greet his curiosity with a sympathetic but patient gaze.

Gently, you urge him to squeeze the lemon slice over the battered fish and nod when he timidly follows your instruction, “Now give it a try, my darling, I promise you’ll like it,”

…and like it, he did!

With each bite, Regulus is met with satisfying crunch after satisfying crush. The exterior is perfectly fried, giving way to the tender fish within. The delicate cod melts in his mouth, introducing the delicate flavour of the fish, complemented by a sprinkle of salt and the squeeze of fresh lemon. Together they create a harmonious balance of savoury and tangy notes that dance happily over his palate.

“It’s delicious Mother!” Regulus grins with partially stuffed cheeks and crumbs of the batter decorating his lips. Sirius nods enthusiastically beside him, unable to speak from stuffing his mouth full of his chicken dish.

“Big brother, you have to try some!” you watch with a heart swelling up from adoration and pride as Regulus offers a big chunk of his fish and places it onto his brother’s plate.

“You too Reggie!” Sirius does the same with his chicken, generously offering up a portion from his plate. Once the two try a bite of each other’s meal, an explosion of ardour lights up their grey eyes, creating a galaxy of endless constellations in their wake. They are so precious.

Giggling at their antics, you turn to your dish and begin to eat. In all honesty, seeing them enjoying their food for the first time had your stomach already halfway full. So you happily offered a portion of your cottage pie as well. They wanted to say no but you were much too convincing and when they offered a bite of their dishes, you explained that you were already getting full.

They were named after stars but at this moment, their eyes held a galaxy of their own, just from tasting a delicious meal. You want to see them like this all the time…maybe you should begin cooking in the kitchen again? It was a hobby of yours that you enjoyed, baking too but found limited time to partake in it when your business had exponential growth.

Throughout the meal, you often forgot your unfinished plate to be able to tend to your boys. They’re not usually this messy but they were enjoying their food so well that they couldn’t help themselves. They haven’t tasted food this good before!

“You two are so messy,” you joke, giggling to yourself as you reach over with a napkin to wipe at the edges of their mouths while they chew their food. A look of shame crosses their adorable, sweet faces and they slow their mastication, avoiding your gaze.

“Sorry mother,” Regulus apologises meekly as Sirius mutters a similar apology beside him.

��Whatever for?” you pout at them, “I love seeing you enjoying your meals so much,” their expressions relax slightly when they turn to gaze up to witness your kind smile, “maybe I should get a cookbook and begin cooking up some delicious meals at home for you two, hmm?” a wide grin overcomes them, their astonishment quickly washing away from their elation at the prospect.

“Really mother?!” hopefulness makes Regulus’ voice raise an octave higher as Sirius bashfully stares up at you.

“You’d do that?... For us?” Sirius’ voice comes out unusually shy.

“Of course,” you shrug nonchalantly, trying to temper your exuberant grin, “I was getting tired of the dull, tasteless meals anyway,”

The main topic for the next visit was Eeylops Owl Emporium.

In your head, you remember the dark feathered owl Sirius owned in the films who had a horrible habit of biting people. Surely it wouldn’t affect the timeline drastically if you bought a different owl for him. It’s been on your mind how you would like to write letters to Sirius regularly, especially during his first year. You might even convince Regulus to join you so you could send your letters together; you didn’t want your son getting bit every time you wrote a letter to him so you’ll be getting him a different bird for all prospective deliveries.

Upon entering the shop, you encourage your boys to explore and keep a lookout for an owl that would be suitable for Sirius to have for school. In the meantime, you tried to pinpoint the owl with the terrible biting habit so that you may be able to steer Sirius away from ever encountering the bird. You don’t understand why Sirius would have ever decided to get a bird like that in the first place so if he manages to find it before you and decides he wants it, you don’t know how you’ll be able to convince him otherwise—

“That insolent thing bit me!” as the original Walburga’s voice enters your head, an image of the familiar black-feathered owl flashes behind your eyelids.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

‘The amber-eyed owl, quick as lightning, launches its head forward with a vicious snapping of its beak. Successful in its attack, you reel your arm back – except it’s notyourarm – with a shriek of fright and pain. Upon looking down, you observe the torn fabric of your sleeve as well as the lacerated skin of your arm – still not your arm – which begins to bleed a crimson red. Anger and embarrassment flood your veins as you prepare to curse at the insolent thing but stop when your eyes lock onto the hidden smirk of your eldest son.

“I want that one,” he says, a devious twinkle in his eyes. Before you could protest, his negligent and, often, preoccupied father, steps towards the shop clerk to request the owl for purchase. Orion hadn’t seen the vicious beast attacking you; too eager to return to his work and rushing through the list of school supplies needed for Sirius' first year. The man you call your husband only has himself to blame for waiting so late, only a week was left before Sirius had to depart for Hogwarts but, thankfully, most delivery services didn’t require that long to complete shipment.

“Let's hurry along then,” Orion clicks his tongue in displeasure over the sudden slowing of everyone’s pace, “we must be done by noon, I have better things to be doing!”

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“Wh-what the–?” blinking rapidly, your vision of the present slowly returns as you reach out to grasp onto something just to steady yourself. Unlike all other squabbles, the original Walburga doesn’t return to elaborate in her screeching voice; she is unusually silent but you’re too dazed to point it out.

You don’t realise what’s happened until you’re flinging your arm back with a sharp cry, cradling your arm to your chest.

“Mother!” Regulus runs up to you with furrowed brows marked by distress, “Are you okay?” he reaches for your arm and you bashfully show him your injury, inflicted onto you by a black-feathered owl. The cheeky thing tilts its head at you as if it’s done nothing wrong and merely proceeds to preen its feathers, unbothered by the whole ordeal – so rude.

“Not that one,” Sirius glares at the malevolent bird, narrow eyes filled with malice before turning to you with a softened look of concern.

“It’s alright my darlings,” you smile reassuringly at them both, “it’s just a scratch, let’s look for a different owl, alright?”

It took a while to calm the boys enough to distract them from the mishap and finally return to the task at hand. You're injured but you, thankfully, didn’t have to do much to convince Sirius about choosing another owl. Only… The fact that your injury looks identical to the one that appeared on the arm of (what you assume) is the original Walburga’s vision, was disconcerting.

You make mental notes of everything that happened in the short period, not wanting to ponder on the sinister details just yet, not when you were having such a fun day with your two boys.

In the end, Sirius settles on a majestic barn owl with beautiful gold and white feathers. The shopkeeper informed you that the owl was a female as he prepared all the additional items you wanted to have with the owl; treats, a small care guide, its cage, water bowl, food bowl, and all of its necessities. You don’t want to acknowledge the shopkeeper’s suspicious gaze as it periodically falls on you. It was beginning to make you feel self-conscious and you’re eager to distract your racing mind. This was probably all original Walburga’s doing. You know how much of a bitch she is but her reputation is proving to be incredibly troublesome when it comes to interacting with other people.

“What will you name her, Sirius?” you ask, hoping your voice doesn’t give away your discomfort. Thankfully, your question is a good distraction for everyone, including the shopkeeper.

“I don’t know…” Sirius ponders to himself, “Maybe… hmmm… Owletta,” he grins cheekily, proud of himself for the creative name. You can already see the marauder in him and it makes you grin as well.

“That sounds very fitting,” you wink at him as Regulus giggles to himself, enjoying the given name as well, “great choice,”

“What happened to the last owl you purchased?” the shopkeeper asks suddenly, finally finished with preparing all the items and eying you warily. You feel Sirius and Regulus’ eyes on you from his question as well and hurry to make an excuse. This situation has grown very uncomfortable.

“Last owl?”

“Yes, the screech owl, from last week,”

“It was for a gift…to a friend,” you smile innocently despite your awkward wording, grateful that the shopkeeper doesn’t ask any further questions although he does appear reluctant to hand over Owletta. But with an impatient flap of her large wings, he hands her over inside her cage. She probably felt the taut tension of indecision in the air far worse than you.

“10 galleons…” you gladly hand over payment and usher your boys out.

This has the original Walburga's name written all over it.

Continuing with the shopping, your next stop was Flourish and Blotts for Sirius’ books. The list of publications needing to be purchased was long, amounting to eight volumes of knowledge ranging from magical creatures to history and magic theory. You were tempted to read through the books yourself and learn a thing or two but didn’t want to appear lacking. As unfortunate as it is, you’re supposed to be the Walburga Black, a very proud, ‘high-class’ witch within the wizarding world, meaning that you had to be proficient in, at least, 1st year of wizarding knowledge.

Fortunately, there was an owl delivery option for the books, which saves you from carrying the heavy load but you’re beginning to feel sad for the poor owls subjected to delivering such a package. Not only that but you worried for your poor Sirius’ little shoulders and arms having to carry around those heavy books at Hogwarts. You hope to god there’s a magic bag that could carry many things without transferring the weight onto you. From the books and the delivery fee, everything costs 14 galleons in total.

It wasn’t listed on the official school supplies list but you had the foresight to go to Scribbulus Writing Instruments to buy an assortment of inks, quills and parchment. Sirius and Regulus were fascinated by the colour-changing inks available, some transitioning between two to three colours and some cycling through much more. At first, you found it odd that they hadn’t encountered such a simple and commonplace magical item before until you remembered their parents and all the unfortunate implications that came with that realisation. It made your fists clench in anger and had you impulsively buying a small pot of each colour-changing ink to the surprise and subsequent delight of your two boys.

“Y-you didn’t have to do that Mother,” Regulus comments shyly with a soft pink glow dusting his cheeks as he cradles a small pot of colour-changing ink in his little hands. That particular one was his favourite, if you remember correctly, it transitioned through an array of blue hues. He looks so adorable; you don’t know how you were able to resist reaching down to pinch at his pudgy cheeks.

“Of course, I had to,” you huff with a playful sternness before leaning down and bringing them in close to whisper for their ears only, it was as if you were telling a century-old secret. Intrigued by your actions, they lean in with rounded eyes of wonder, “But promise not to tell your father, he doesn’t deserve to know about our secret ink stash,” Sirius grins mischievously as Regulus' cheeks dimple. Nodding firmly at each other, your agreement was sealed and the three of you continued with your shopping spree.

The next stop was Potage’s Cauldron Shop, where you purchased a small cauldron before getting potioneer equipment and a telescope from Wisearce’s Wizardry Equipment. Again, like all the shops before, it was incredibly touching to be able to see your son's eyes sparkle in fascination and wonderment. You can practically hear their thoughts. Even though Regulus has to wait another year before he can attend Hogwarts, they’re both glowing with enthusiasm and alacrity to learn and experience something new. It just makes your heart ache a little over how you’re going to be mostly absent from that venture, seeing as Hogwarts is a boarding school. In the meantime, you’ll savour having them with you now and spending the little time you have with Sirius worthwhile and carry that on with Regulus while his older brother is at school creating chaos with the rest of the marauders.

Sirius’ assortment of school equipment was quickly piling up and so was his excitement. It was an excitement that proved to be very contagious as Regulus stood to his right, absorbing the delight that flowed from him in wave after beautiful wave. Seeing such precious smiles on their faces, it was hard to believe that the first day or so was filled with them fixing you with permanent scowls or passive expressions that were too mature and ill-suited to their youthful faces. These gorgeous smiles suited them a lot more… and you want to keep it that way.

Stepping back out onto the cobblestone streets, you look around with your mental list of shops that still need visiting but find your gaze stopping on the sign of a quaint, unassuming shop dubbed ‘Belby’s Potions and Ingredients’. You don’t remember ever hearing of a shop like this being in Diagon Alley but that’s to be expected, the world building wasn’t very expansive in the Harry Potter movies or books when it came to Diagon Alley, and this is without considering that you were in a different era of the Harry Potter Universe. You’ve already come across some shops that you’ve never heard of before but sit comfortably, right at home, amongst the other recognisable shops in the district; this one in particular shouldn't strike you as so intriguing.

“Is that where we’re going next, mother?” Sirius speaks up, snapping you out of your dazed state.

Smiling shyly, you make a small confession, “It’s not part of the list, I’m just hoping for a little detour to get you familiar with potion ingredients before school," you skillfully fib, "is that okay with you boys?” asking for their opinion and giving them a choice to agree or disagree always seemed to make them happy. It’s a freedom and a luxury, that they were rarely given when under the real Walburga’s ‘care’ so they were more than happy to oblige.

“Of course that’s alright,” Regulus looks past the skirt of your black dress to meet eyes with his brother, “right, Sirius?”

“Yeah!” grinning happily, they hold your hands in their much smaller ones and start pulling you along to the shop, their enthusiasm making appear like normal, happy kids, “let’s go, mother!”

Looking up at the sign once more, you allow your curiosity to spring forward. Indeed, you can’t recognise this shop before your transfer into the Harry Potter, Marauders era universe but the name ‘Belby’ definitely piqued your interest. It’s on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t quite place where you recognise the name.

Entering the shop, you were presently enticed by the entirely separate atmosphere it presented. Unlike most of the other shops that were, either, barely lit or bursting with colour, the atmosphere of this shop was remarkably serene. It was pleasant. A good change of pace. Switching from two extremes of decoration, it was relieving to finally find one that danced in the middle, leaning towards an aesthetic that was homey and unsophisticated.

Your two boys were quick to begin surveying the shelves of products themselves - a library of carefully crafted potions and their ingredients. It was clear that they too, were welcomed and put at ease by the cottage-core aesthetic of the dwelling. There were dried bunches of flora hanging from the walls and ceiling, some with cute blossoms, frozen in their prime, whilst other herbage sported brittle stems and frail, veiny leaves. The colours of the ingredients and tightly packed potions meticulously measured into phials were somewhat muted but in a very pretty sense. It was like opening a beloved, ageing book and diving into its wondrous, antiquated tales, freckled with wise passages that transcend all time and languages. The shop was very small but also very charming and well-loved; you felt right at home.

As your two boys weave through the isles of merchandise, a genial voice calls out to you, “Welcome to Belby’s Potions and Ingredients, I’m Damocles Belby, how can I help you today?” at the front counter, you observe a man in his mid-thirties with a full beard and moustache framing a no-eye smile. Slowly easing himself out of his merry greeting, his eyelids unfurl to reveal a beautiful pair of honey-amber eyes. He looks kind; his affable demeanour is just as welcoming as his cosy shop.

“Hello sir,” you hope your smile conveys, at least, half of the warmth of his own, “I’m just taking a look around, thank you,” he gives a soft ‘ahh’ of acknowledgement before nodding, “My two boys are also around here somewhere. My eldest son will be starting his first year at Hogwarts next month so I wanted him to get a little familiar with the potion ingredients he’ll be encountering at school,”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Damocles grins in approval, chuckling to himself at your chest swelling with pride for your son, “what is your son’s name?”

“Sirius Black,” you announce fondly, the friendly atmosphere coming to a screeching halt when realisation washes over Damocles’ features. The once cordial air has plunged to freezing temperatures within seconds, prickling your skin with goosebumps.

“M-madam Black,” he greets formally with a bow of his head. It’s clear that Walburga’s reputation is notoriously menacing but you’re not her and you kindly ask that he refrain from such discretionary (in your eyes) behaviour.

“I’m simply a mother to my sons and a wife to my husband,” a disgusting, pile of shit that’s a complete waste of oxygen, who doesn’t deserve the title of father or husband, “that is all,” your answer doesn’t soothe him as you’d hoped it would but your attentions are soon required elsewhere when you’re both drawn to an even cosier corner of the store.

Led there by the whisperings of your two sons, both accompanied by a tired yet melodious voice, you are greeted with the most charming sight — your boys sitting at the foot of a rocking chair, where a frail but equally kind-looking woman slumps into, her pale blue eyes shining with fondness at them as she embroiders a shimmering pink thread into a plain square of cloth in her lap. She’s dressed modestly, with her top hiding her arms in long lantern sleeves as her collar stretches up her neck. The long skirt of her dress looks layered, puffing up at the sides of her seat and what little skin you would have seen at her ankles are covered in thick socks. You wonder if she’s cold at all. Or maybe she’s just a very unobtrusive person with a likeness for coquettish and demure fashions.

“How do you know how to make the flowers if you don’t draw them first?” Regulus asks, peering over her lap in an attempt to catch sight of her work between her elegantly working hands.

Sirius nods and adds to the conversation with his question, “Yeah, and why aren’t you using magic like everyone else?”

“It comes with a lot of practice,” she answers your baby first before turning to your slightly older baby, “and I do it because I enjoy embroidering; besides…” she turns her work over to them, allowing you a glimpse of her masterpiece as well, “it always looks prettier when I embroider it myself,” your two boys ‘ooo~’ and ‘aaah~’ at her work. The interaction draws a soft giggle from you while the shopkeeper beside you sighs quietly – he sounds relieved.

“Are you feeling better, my dear?” Damocles steps up to his wife, placing one hand on the head of the cane that’s kept beside her rocking chair. His other hand reaches up to curl his fingers into a shy ringlet of her blonde hair. They are a loving couple, a 'one true pair'.

“Mr Belby, you need to stop being such a worrier,” his wife chides playfully at him, abandoning her embroidery to smile lovingly at her husband, “and besides, there’s nothing for you to fret about when I’m around such good company,” her comment makes you smile widely, proud that your two boys were growing a reputation of their own, ones separate from the infamous Black family. You can handle the stares and uncomfortable accommodations for your prominence but you wouldn't stand for them to experience it too.

“Right, of course,” Damocles nods with a short but airy chuckle and nods at the boys thankfully when they shuffle their way back to you. Sirius and Regulus had never seen such an affectionate couple before; their parents weren’t like that. And, although they wish they could grow up under such a soft and healthy model of love, they know that it wouldn’t be possible; to them, mothers and fathers don’t normally show affection for each other and that was how it was going to stay between their parents. There was no use in hoping.

“You must be these two young men’s mother,” Damocles’ wife meets your gaze and smiles, her beauty unable to be masked by her pronounced ailment, “My name is Ruth Belby, I see you’ve already met my worry-wart of a husband,” the two of you share a laugh before you’re able to introduce yourself as well. Unlike her spouse, Ruth's first reaction was not fear but rather surprise, an astonishment that quickly melted into a soft smile.

“You two have a very lovely shop,” Sirius and Regulus nod eagerly by your sides, agreeing with your comment, “it’s so much cosier than all the other shops around here,”

Damocles’ expression softens, his eyes mirroring sweet honey before he presses a kiss to his wife’s temple, “It’s all because of my wife’s keen eye, I catered this place solely for her palates’ enjoyment,”

“I’m very lucky in that sense,” Ruth’s twinkling laugh rings out as quickly as it gives way to a coughing fit. It sounds as though she’s trying to hack up a serrated knife, the sound of it making all witnesses' hearts shake with panic except for Damocles', who rushes about to quell her discomfort. He hides his worries well. His expression is completely neutral as he offers her a crisp glass of water, however, his other hand reveals his true sentiments – his true fretfulness. As soon as she's had her fill of the glass, Damocles offers up a phial of magenta liquid that you’re all too familiar with, “darling, there’s no need for that,” Ruth’s nose scrunches up at the appearance of the healing potion.

“It’s for your own good, please Ruth. I only want for you to feel better, my dear,” she grumbles and whines but eventually gulps down the healing potion, taking a moment to get over the ghastly taste before changing the topic. Your eyes fall onto her with sympathy. That potion is truly disgusting.

“That’s enough about me, I hear that this young man is going to be attending Hogwarts,” Ruth gestures to Sirius as you fondly bring up a hand to comb your fingers through his perfectly permed hair.

“Yes, he’s growing up far too quickly…” you hum, melancholic despite only being with your newly acquired sons for a little over a week. Sirius’ ears tint a soft pink and he shyly peeks up at you with pouting lips.

“Growing up is normal…” he utters like a grump.

“I know,” you sigh in gentle acceptance, “but I quite like you as you are right now,” Sirius’ eyes widen in disbelief and his cheeks burn as pink as his ears. It’s an expression that makes you smile warmly, you like the appearance of it on him, he needs to express it more often, “I want you to stay like this with me just a little bit longer, is that too much to ask?”

“...not really,” you didn’t expect him to answer but it was in a whisper so you had to lean down ever so slightly to hear him clearer, “I’ll try to stay like this a little longer for you…if you want,” his comment, heard by you and Ruth, have you both cooing at him as Regulus grins hard enough for his dimples to show again; his older brother’s rose-red face is so funny to look at!

When it comes time for you, Regulus and Sirius to leave, you thought it would just be a regular goodbye but not for your two boys. They've made good friends with the couple, especially Ruth so a memorable adieu was in order.

Regulus bows to Ruth like a true gentleman while Sirius places a small kiss on her knuckles, whereby he then turns to his younger brother and says verbatim: that’s how a true gentleman bids farewell to a beautiful lady. The gesture of your eldest made Damocles’ eyes bulge out as Ruth laughed aloud, her shoulders shaking as her eyes lit up in glee. It's a relief that she didn't have a coughing fit this time. You, yourself, don’t know why you were so surprised. It appears as though Sirius’ philanderer ways didn’t start in Hogwarts; he already had the potential even before attending the boarding school.

With another wave of your hand and a glance over your shoulder, you leave the couple whilst leading your two boys to the door in front of you.

It was then that you saw it…

In Ruth, you saw your past self. It was like looking into a mirror, a mirror into the past where you couldn’t have children no matter how desperately you wanted to have ones of your own. Like you, she probably had a list of names picked out in her head already. Like you, she probably pictured their innocent, beautiful faces in the appearance of other children. Like you, she envied the mothers who were able to conceive and desperately wished for a miracle to happen only for that miracle to never materialise. It was a mix of hopeless yearning and doleful forbearance. From your peripheral, you discern a similar impression on Damocles as he stands beside his ill-stricken wife.

Damocles Belby… why does that name sound so familiar to you?

The boys did so well today. It was long and arduous and you could see the sun beginning to set, however, it’s never too late for–

“Ice cream?” Regulus asks with glittering grey eyes.

“We can have two scoops each,” you announce, eager to reward yourself as well, “we deserve something delicious for our hard work today,” Regulus was bouncing on the soles of his feet, something both you and Sirius noticed.

“You can go first Reggie,” Sirius smiles at his little brother, who turns to you with pleading eyes.

“Can I choose my flavours myself?” he asks to which you smile and nod. Eagerly, he looks through the collection of available ice cream and decides to go for, “one scoop of strawberry and peanut butter, and one scoop of apple crumble please,” he seems proud of his order and is soon savouring it with the happiest expression on his face. It’s unexpected but he, undoubtedly, has a sweet tooth. A studious, quiet boy with a secret love for sweet things - how charming and precious.

“Can I have one scoop of the clotted cream, and one scoop of the sticky toffee pudding please,” just like Regulus, Sirius was soon delving into his ice cream too, both teetering on the edge of wanting to devour the rare, cold treat whilst also trying to make it last as long as possible. You giggle at their antics briefly before ordering your own two scoops from the same vendor who smiles at you kindly. In his gaze and wrinkled but dexterous fingers, familiar and elegant with their motions, express a love for his craft and a love for those who show their appreciation of it – the simple act of enjoying their ice cream was payment enough to him.

“Thank you kindly, sir,”

“Not at all mam, enjoy yer ice creams,” the man offers a slight tip of his head upon accepting payment.

On a nearby bench, Sirius, Regulus and you sit quietly together and finish your doubly topped cones, taking the time to observe passing wizards and witches while enjoying the little time you have left of your day out shopping. You don’t think the day could have gone any better, and Sirius and Regulus don’t think anything would be able to transcend the fun they’ve had.

Meeting each other’s eyes, Sirius and Regulus silently agree that today has been the best day they’ve ever had, not knowing that you have plenty of great days lined up for them.

NEXT. | 04 : BEGINNINGS → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : it's finally here, my promised, final update before i go on my hiatus. i'm sorry it took me so long to get out to you darlings. after my indefinite hiatus announcement, i got really busy. however, i'm sure you darlings would be happy to know that my situation has gotten better. it's not to the point that i feel like i can comfortably write but i'm definitely getting there so i can confidently say that I can see myself returning from my hiatus later on this year. in the mean time, i hope you darlings enjoy this chapter and please take care! i love you all so much and i'll see you soon x

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#sirius black #marauders #regulus black #sirius black fanfiction #regulus black fanfiction #the marauders era #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #dob series #Divorcing Orion Black series #walburga black #mother reader #isekai #fix it fic #marauders fix it fic

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nadvs · 10 months ago

Note

enemies to lovers with rafe. you go on a road trip with your friends (including topper etc..). one night reader and the rest of the friendgroup gets high and reader and rafe ends up fucking. pretty pretty please

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

content warning drug use

You don’t know why Rafe hates you so much. Since you set out on your road trip this morning, he’s been standoffish. But that’s nothing new from him. He’s always had an attitude reserved specifically for you.

You’ve always assumed he didn’t like you butting in on guy time, but Topper and Kelce have been your best friends since you were kids. You’re not going to stop spending time with them just because Rafe doesn’t want you around.

You’re in the backseat with Kelce, windows down as Rafe drives and Topper controls the music. You’ve been on the road for a few hours now, sights set on a beach house you rented to spend the night in.

When you stop at a gas station, Topper and Kelce pile out of the car to load up on snacks. You’re slower than them as you collect your things. You notice Rafe waiting by your open door, stood between the car and the pump.

“Today,” he snaps. You realize he’s trying to get to the gas tank.

“You can go around,” you reply.

“I shouldn’t have to,” he says tensely. “Why are you so fucking slow?”

You slide out of your seat and your feet find the ground, shutting the door and facing Rafe. He towers over you with a clenched jaw, glaring down at you.

“You have your whole life to be an asshole,” you mutter. “Can’t you take a day off? For once?”

He only gives you the same glare you’ve been on the receiving end of for months.

“What’s your problem?” you ask.

“My problem?” he mutters. Instead of your usual sharp retort, Rafe watches your face fall ever so slightly.

“What did I do to you?” you say softly, at a loss for why he’s always so combative towards you.

He scoffs and brushes past you, no regard for personal space as his body presses against yours. You hate that the feeling sends a rush of arousal through you. You despise him, but you can’t deny that he’s attractive.

As Rafe fills up the gas tank, he thinks about how much he hates that you look at him like that. Like you’re revolted by him.

He shakes his head. You’re so goddamned stuck-up. From the moment he met you, he could tell you’d never even glance in his direction. He never stood a chance and you love to make it obvious.

When you arrive at the beach house, you have dinner with your friends, ignoring Rafe like usual. The four of you head down to the beach to get high and watch the sunset.

Rafe trails behind you as you make your way to the shore, watching the way your ass moves with every step, feeling himself getting hard like he always does when he stares at you too long.

After a few puffs of the joint, your head starts swimming with bliss. You sit by the shore together, feet digging into the soft sand, warm wind pressing against your skin, soaking every sensation in.

Rafe watches the way the setting sun hits your features. He knows he’s not sober if he’s admitting to himself that you’re beautiful. He’s supposed to hate you.

The conversation between your friends is silly and hard to follow as it always is when you get high together. You’re not sure how much time passes when the boys call it a night.

You decide to stay sitting on the beach alone, letting the high wash over you as the waves pull up and down the shore, the moonlight glistening on the water.

Rafe’s been thinking about how you looked at him earlier today all night. The way you asked him what you did to him is turning over and over in his mind and he can’t shake it.

He decides to knock on your door after everyone has already gone to bed, but you don’t answer. When he looks out of the glass patio doors and spots your silhouette way out in the distance, he makes his way out into the warm night.

You hear someone say your name. You’re speechless when you turn to see Rafe walking towards you, shirtless, hair wet from the shower, hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweatpants. You try not to stare.

You can’t think of why the hell he would come here. If you two aren’t arguing, you’re ignoring each other.

“What?” you finally say, scowling. Rafe sits next to you, making your brows furrow in confusion.

You’ve never been plunged into privacy with him like this before.

Rafe doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. It must be a twisted mix of the weed and the way you looked at him and how long he’s been grappling with the fact that he wants you.

“You wanna know what you did to me?” he asks. “What you did - what you keep fucking doing is looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you-” He takes a breath, irritation and confusion and vulnerability gripping him. “Like you’re disgusted by me.”

“Rafe,” you scoff. God, even the way you say his name is spiteful. “You’re joking, right? You’ve been mean to me since we met.”

“Because you hate me for no fucking reason.”

“You thought I hated you, so you decided to hate me back?” you snap. “You’re ridiculous. You can…”

You were about to tell him he can leave you alone now, but the depth in his stare and the movement of his rising and falling chest and the sight of his big, bare arms propped up on his knees ignites lust to curl deep in your core.

“I can what?” he says, leaning closer to you. You can smell his sharp body wash, eyes widening when you notice just how nice his lips are.

It’s a look you’ve never given him before. At least, he’s never seen it himself.

“You always such a fucking mouth on you. Now you won’t talk?” he scoffs. “I can what? Do this?”

He leans even closer, eyes half-lidded as he gazes down at you, his mouth an inch away from yours. He hovers, so prideful that he’s forcing you to have to make the final move.

“You can do whatever you want,” you mutter, throwing the pressure back onto him.

Rafe can’t control himself anymore. He cups your cheek roughly, crashing his lips onto yours so hard that you jolt backwards. He doesn’t lose contact, shoving you down to the ground, grinding his growing cock against you.

His mouth is hot, his tongue pushing into your mouth with fervor. You can’t believe that someone you thought despised you is touching you like this.

Your hands roughly drag up Rafe’s warm, firm back and he smiles against your lips, revelling in the feeling of you wanting him, too.

He could have been doing this instead of arguing with you? How much time has he wasted?

Eager hands slip under your shirt and when he dips into your bra to palm your breasts, he exhales sharply. He pulls back, his breath on your cheek as he kneads you, thumbs rubbing over your nipples.

“Whatever I want, huh?” he rasps. “What if I want to fuck you?”

“Then do it,” you reply, your own words shocking you.

Your shorts are soon bunched into a pile by your feet between hard kisses. His hand settles between your legs, pushing your panties to the side, his fingers dipping between your folds, spreading you open.

“Damn,” Rafe whispers, running his hand up and down your wet core. You feel so fucking perfect. This is what he’s been missing out on?

The sensation of his smooth, slow strokes gives you goosebumps. It feels amazing all on its own, but combined with the solace of the drugs in your system, it’s otherwordly.

Rafe dips past the waistband of his sweats and pulls his cock out, almost breathless when he lines himself up against your entrance.

You spread your legs wider, needy for him. He looks down at you, the planes of his handsome face shadowed by the night, as he slowly fills you, every inch better than the last.

He loves the way you squeeze your eyes shut and gasp as he bottoms out inside you. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he rocks back and forth, thrusts quickly getting hard and fast.

Rafe grips your face with one hand, squeezing your cheeks and tilting your head to look at him. You meet his eyes, your moans louder than the waves crashing behind you.

He finds your clit with ease, rubbing in circles, making you tremble when you reach your peak. His thrusts get sloppy as you cum, following you quickly, mumbling a string of fuck’s with his orgasm.

Rafe collapses on top of you, your breaths fast and shallow.

When he sits up to gaze at you again, he thinks about how this blissful, fucked out look on your face is so much better than the glares you’re always giving him. And he wants to keep earning this specific look from you over and over and over again.

#who can tell i’m catching up with all my blurb requests today #this one got LONG #also i love the concept of reader being part of this friend group #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron and reader #blurb #rafe cameron blurb

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minminbunny · 5 months ago

Text

Stalker X Stalker AU - Dom! Lee Minho/Sub Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

💕Drabble Masterlist

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"Good morning, gorgeous," you whispered, taking a few silent photos from the roof into Minho's room. His sleeping body looked so precious with Dori snuggled against his face. You shuddered an exhale, licking your lips as you pulled away. Minho chuckled, watching you through his phone, "Kitty, you look so desperate," he cooed, zooming in. You realigned your camera, disappointed to see him sitting up, "It's too early, darling. You should sleep more," you whispered, watching Minho scroll on his phone.

Minho crossed his legs, his back facing the window, "Aww, they're sulking," he chuckled, endeared by your obvious pouting. You hummed, watching the time on your watch, "It's almost here," you whispered, keeping your camera in exchange for a burner phone. The parcel arrived at Minho's doorstep, "I didn't order anything," he murmured, bringing it into his room. You gulped, shakily calling his number.

Minho felt his phone ring and picked it up, "Hello?" he asked, making your breath hitch. You turned on your voice modifier, "Hope you like the gift, darling. It's curated for you," you said, breathing heavily. Minho bit back a smirk, "How did you find my address?" he asked, faking a worried victim. You shivered at his voice, "You shouldn't sign random forums, pretty. You wouldn't know who's getting them," you said, before hanging up.

Minho faced away from his window, chuckling into his palm. Making it seem like it was crying with his shaking shoulders. Guilt swirled within you but you knew the gift would cheer him up. Minho wiped the tears in his eyes, "Such a sweetheart," he cooed, tugging on the ribbon. The box was a stunning red with a cream coloured ribbon.

Minho lifted the lid and his eyes widened, "This isn't fair, kitty," he smiled, seeing his favorite pudding, cat treats for his children and a lovely looking letter. He shuddered, smelling a tinge of blood coming from the letter, "As much as I don't like knowing you got hurt, kitten. You really do excite me," he groaned, opening the letter. It wrote:

"To my dearest darling,

Was my gift to your satisfaction, I wanted to make you feel special. I hope I didn't scare you too much. The way your face lights up when you take a bite of pudding makes my heart swell. I'm always watching, gorgeous. Please dream of me.

Your admirer,"

At the bottom of the letter lies a kiss mark, Minho gulped, tracing the perverted stain, "Fuck, your lips look pretty," he whispered, checking his phone if you were still on the roof. After seeing the empty rooftop, he kissed the mark and held the letter close to his chest, "Definitely one for my collection," he chuckled, opening a secret door being his clothes, a room filled with pictures and items you've used before. "I wanted to extend our little game but after today. I don't think I can hold back," he chuckled, messaging his friend to set him up on a blind date.

You huffed, getting dressed for a date you don't want, "Lix, I told you. I'm not interested in dating right now," you sulked, letting him comb your hair. Felix chuckled, "It's just one. Plus, Jisung said it was their treat. So, you get a free meal and have a good time," he said, patting your shoulders. You frowned, "I guess," you murmured, looking into the mirror. Felix really dolled you up, your lips plump and glossy.

Your eyebags covered nicely. It was a total one-eighty from your usual attire. Felix nuzzled his cheek against yours, "Ready?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. You gulped, "Ready as I'll ever be," you said, grabbing the necessaries. Minho loosened his tie, "It's time," he whispered, waiting for you at the table. He laced your glass with sleeping powder, hoping this date would go smoothly. You exhaled, pushing open the door.

You faked a smile and looked for the table number. 'No way,' you thought, seeing your darling, sitting where your date was suppose to be. Excitement flooded your senses, 'Is this a dream?' you thought, making your way to the table. You tapped the table, "Are you Jisung's friend?" you asked, trying to be calm as possible. Minho smiled, nodded his head, "That's me. My name's Minho," he introduced, reaching out his hand.

You wanted nothing more than to screenshot this moment like an otome game, "Nice to meet you, Minho," you said, taking his hand. Minho crossed his legs, hiding his growing bulge, 'My name just glides off their tongue. I can't wait to hear them cry it,' he thought, gesturing you to sit down. You took a sip of water, finding the taste to be odd but you didn't want to ruin the mood, "Have you ordered?" you asked, wondering why the table didn't have any menu.

Minho nodded, "I have, it's allergen free. I didn't want to you wait long for dinner," he said, pouring you more water. You beamed, "Thank you for your consideration," you said, sipping more of the water. Minho allowed his mind to spin, your pretty smile, your stunning figure, the way you dressed up for the occasion. A brief thought of jealousy surged through his thoughts, 'They dressed up not knowing it was me. Does that mean that anyone would've since my kitten like this?' he thought, gripping his knife.

You anxiously glanced peeks at him, his pronounced jawline, his piercing eyes, the veins on his arms. 'Fuck,' you thought, trying to keep your eyes from rolling back at the thought of his fingers pounding your hole apart. The waitress placed your dishes on the table, "Enjoy," she said, walking away. You jolted from your dazed, smiling at Minho, "Dig in," you beamed, eating your dinner.

Minho did the same, watching your movements get more sluggish from the powder. 'Don't worry, kitty. I'll take great care of you,' he thought, enjoying the night.

You groaned, waking up in an oddly familiar room. One you've only seen through your digital camera. One you've come to love over the years. You tried to sit up, only to feel your wrists tug against the bed frame. Minho chuckled, sitting by the window the whole time, "Slept well, kitten?" he asked, moving towards you. He stroked your hair, gently grazed your arms and thighs for any weapons you kept hidden.

You gulped, pressing your legs together, trying to hide your dagger between your thighs. Minho clicked his tongue, "Now, now. Good kittens don't hide dangerous things," he cooed, brushing his hands between your inner thighs. His smirk grew, feeling a leather holster. He unclasp the holster and placed it aside, "There we go, all helpless for me," Minho chuckled, brushing your hair.

You couldn't help but feel aroused, every sense in your body melting into his dominating presence. Minho hummed, "For a perverted little kit, you sure are obedient aren't you? Did you like watching me, sweetheart. Do you touch yourself while stalking me?" he asked, holding your neck. You moaned from the pressure, you eyes hazy with pleasure, "I do. I'm sorry, Minho. I'm sorry," you whimpered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

Minho cooed, tightening his grip, "You're not sorry at all, kitten. I love hearing your unbashful moans when you ride your pretty little dildo," he chuckled, loving the confusion on your face. "What?" you whispered, staring up at him. Minho traced your bottom lip, "You should really close your windows, kitten. It was so easy to hook up a camera in your room," he said, booping your nose. You moaned at the realisation, "You know everything?" you asked, desperation lacing your tongue. Minho kissed your forehead, "Everything, kitty. You're not the only one who's been watching," he chuckled, stroking your cheek.

NSFW BELOW CUT

AFAB

"Hhgh, hah, hah," you moaned, riding his cock at a relentless pace. Minho chuckled, spanking your plush ass, "Clench for me, kitten," he growled, thrusting his hips upwards in tandem with your bounce. You did as told, your ribbed walls contracting around his girthy veiny hot cock, "Hah! Good, so good," you whined, burying your face into his chest.

Minho groaned, his fat cockhead kissing your tiny crevix with each thrust, "How many times have you imagined this, kitty? Tell me," he growled, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You hiccuped, gasping and moaning into his chest, "Every other day. Needed you, needed you so bad," you sobbed, licking his puffy nipple.

Minho groaned into your hair, his face buried in the scent of your shampoo, "Yeah? Needed my Fat. Throbbing. Cock. dragging within your swollen little cunt, huh? I watched you play with that girthy dildo the other day. Tell me which is better, kitty. My cock or that toy?" He rambled into your ear, his tongue licking your earlobe with a lewd squelch.

You whimpered, shuddering within his hold, "Your cock. Yours Minho," you cried, tears dripping onto his chest. Minho grunted, pumping his thick shaft up your cunt, his hand reaching down to rub your puffy clit, "Say my name. Say it," he growled, picking up the pace. You arched your back, clawing his chest in sheer pleasure, "Minho! Min, Min, Hhgh," you whimpered, your thighs sore and aching.

Minho groaned, feeling his cockhead ease beneath your cervix, "Cum for me, sweetheart. Let me feel your obsession," he hissed, feeling you clench hard around his shaft. Broken moans escaped your lips, drool got mixed with your tears and snot. "Hah, hhgh, cumming!" You gasped, creaming around his throbbing cock. Minho groaned, his head pounding from your tight searing cunt.

"Fuck, fuck, hah," you moaned, his semen coating your inner walls white. You panted, catching your breath from the raw intensity. Minho kissed your forehead, "You can't escape me now, sweetheart," he whispered, licking your jaw. You clenched around his sensitive cock, "Neither can you, darling," you beamed, staring into his equally possessive gaze.

AMAB

Minho groaned, his fat cockhead kissing your tiny prostate with each thrust, "How many times have you imagined this, kitty? Tell me," he growled, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. You hiccuped, gasping and moaning into his chest, "Every other day. Needed you, needed you so bad," you sobbed, licking his puffy nipple.

Minho groaned into your hair, his face buried in the scent of your shampoo, "Yeah? Needed my Fat. Throbbing. Cock. dragging within your swollen little hole, huh? I watched you play with that girthy dildo the other day. Tell me which is better, kitty. My cock or that toy?" He rambled into your ear, his tongue licking your earlobe with a lewd squelch.

You whimpered, shuddering within his hold, "Your cock. Yours Minho," you cried, tears dripping onto his chest. Minho grunted, pumping his thick shaft up your hole, his hand reaching down to rub your puffy cockhead, "Say my name. Say it," he growled, picking up the pace. You arched your back, clawing his chest in sheer pleasure, "Minho! Min, Min, Hhgh," you whimpered, your thighs sore and aching.

Minho groaned, feeling his cockhead ease against your prostate, "Cum for me, sweetheart. Let me feel your obsession," he hissed, feeling you clench hard around his shaft. Broken moans escaped your lips, drool got mixed with your tears and snot. "Hah, hhgh, cumming!" You gasped, creaming between your torsos’. Minho groaned, his head pounding from your tight searing hole. "Fuck, fuck, hah," you moaned, his semen coating your inner walls white. You panted, catching your breath from the raw intensity. Minho kissed your forehead, "You can't escape me now, sweetheart," he whispered, licking your jaw. You clenched around his sensitive cock, "Neither can you, darling," you beamed, staring into his equally possessive gaze.

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