#I did alter the wording of a question or two

[rafesangelita]

rafe + predator/prey with bambi?

warnings: dark!rafe (he’s nice at first), bratty behavior, dom/sub themes, slight arguing, shouting, manhandling, fear play, rafe chases you around tanneyhill, hide and seek, oral (m. receiving), face fucking, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, rough sex, hair pulling, choking, overstimulation, slapping, impact play (?), asphyxiation, lots of dirty talk, squirting, size kink, breeding kink, baby trapping threats, degradation

link: read more of bambi!reader here <3

w/c: 2.2k

rafe knew the second you slammed the door shut in his face that you had forgotten your place. all the soft, sappy sex you two had been indulging in had officially altered your brain chemistry into thinking you could lock him out of his room in his own house. “open this door, y/n.” rafe hadn’t raised his voice at you in a long time, and while he didn’t want to, it wasn’t long before he felt his patience running thin as you continued to ignore him and give him the silent treatment. you stood on the other side of the door, a pout gracing your lips as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“i’m trying to sort this out with you, baby, but you’re making that really hard for me right now..” rafe spoke gently, his fists balling up at his sides. “you know.. the last thing i wanna come home to when i’ve had a rough day is an attitude and a temper tantrum.” he attempted to twist the door knob, your heart beating in your ears when it started rattling against the hardwood. “i’ve been so good with you, i think you’ve forgotten just how fast things can change, bambi.” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

of course you didn’t want to be on his bad side, but something about the way his voice dropped a few octaves as if he was giving you a warning made you step closer to the door. “open it or i’ll do it myself.” for a moment there, you almost did as he said, your hand reaching down for the door knob before you heard him whisper something underneath his breath. “fuckin’ brat.” you froze just as your fingers grazed the cold metal. he wasn’t going to like what you did next. taking a step back, you shuddered as you watched the shadow of his feet. “n-no.” you whimpered, your heart beating in your chest.

rafe laughed, his jaw ticking as he felt anger boiling underneath his skin. “what was that? what did you say?” surely he wasn’t hearing right. “i said no, rafe!” you yelled back, running to the corner of his room that was furthest from the door. that did it. rafe said goodbye to any kind of restraint he had left, deciding you were going to learn your lesson about saying that little two-lettered word to him. rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, rafe let out a breath before backing away. “are you near the door?” your eyebrows knitted in confusion at his question. “no—”

before you could say anything else, rafe barged in, knocking the hardwood off of its hinges as your hands shot up to cover your ears. you stared at him doe eyed and terrified, his eyes finding yours as he rolled his shoulders back. “i didn’t want to do that..” he stalked over to you, wrapping a hand around your throat before pressing you against the wall, “why do you have to make me be the bad guy, huh?” you gasped, clasping a palm around his wrist. “please— i’m sorry!” rafe stared you down, his eyes nothing but two black holes as his grip around your throat tightened.

“are you? it seemed like you just wanted to piss me off back there,” he dragged you towards his bed, throwing you down before pinning your elbows to the mattress and slotting himself between your thighs, “that goddamn silent treatment, you know i can’t stand that shit.” his face was centimeters away, his breath fanning your cheek as tears welled in your eyes. “you know what i have to do now, right?” you shook your head, fear bubbling in your chest as you remembered the last time he had to ‘punish’ you. “please! i’ll be good, rafe! ‘don’t want to make you mad anymore..”

closing the distance between you two, rafe kissed you softly, wiping away the stray tear that managed to roll down your cheek. “i’m gonna give you a ten second head start to run, and if you decide to hide instead, you better make sure i don’t fuckin’ find you,” he whispered against your lips, “now, get the fuck outta here.” rafe moved aside, your chest rising and falling as you slipped out of the room, your feet skittering across the floor as you started running away from him. you swore your heart was beating a million times per second, the fear of being caught making your blood run cold.

you had barely made it to the bottom of the stairs before you looked up and saw rafe making his way out of the room. he was far too fast for you to outrun him, panic setting in as you started scouring through the halls of tanneyhill. coincidentally, all of the rooms were locked. rafe must’ve did that when you first mouthed off to him, having known how this night would end. “please, please, please!” you struggled trying to open the door to each room only to fall short when the knobs didn’t even budge. “come on..” you whined, rounding the corner of the hallway.

“you look so pretty when you’re scared.” you spun around on your heels, a half scream leaving your lips as rafe started jogging down the long hallway. running across the kitchen, and into the living room, rafe’s laughter echoed throughout the house as he chased you around the couch. “you’re gonna fuckin’ get it.” as a last resort attempt to throw him off, you grabbed one of the pillows from the sofa and threw it at him so you could run up the stairs. just as he caught it, he tripped over his own feet before you made your way into his study, crawling underneath his desk.

clamping a hand over your mouth, you panted softly through your nose as rafe’s footsteps sounded up the staircase. “so you decided to hide after all, huh?” your heart was slamming against your ribcage as he got closer. “i was really hoping you didn’t do that.” he almost sounded apologetic as he stepped into the room next door. you removed your hand from your mouth, fiddling with the ‘R’ pendant on your necklace. “if i get my hands on you.. god, you might just hate me.” just as it sounded like he walked past the room you were in, your heart dropped to your stomach when the door suddenly opened.

rafe walked around, stopping right in front the desk. “one of my favorite things about you is your perfume. it’s so sweet, it’s almost like you leave a trail behind you everywhere you go..” you didn’t even get to react before he was pulling you out by your feet, your screams echoing in his ears. “you make it so easy, baby, it’s like you wanted to be caught.” he pulled you up by your arms, dragging you out of the study and back to his bedroom. he forced you down on your knees, grabbing ahold of your chin as he fumbled with his belt.

“wanna talk back when i’m being nice to you? fine. i’ll just put your mouth to better use.” he said through gritted teeth. clasping your hands behind your back, you gazed up at him through your eyelashes. “listen to me when i say this, yeah?” he slipped his thumb between your lips, “right now you’re not my pretty little girlfriend, alright? you’re a slut.” your skirt rode up your thighs as you spread your legs, sitting back on your heels while you waited for rafe to stuff your throat full. upon his cock springing out of his pants, you whimpered pathetically at the butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

he stroked himself, a groan leaving his lips as he tapped his hardened cock against your tongue. “open that mouth, baby, you know how i like it.” you licked the tip, wrapping your lips around the throbbing head as he threaded his fingers in your hair. “i work all day, deal with my dad’s shit, fuck— all just to come home to that bratty behavior of yours..” he cursed under his breath as you took him deeper into your mouth. “ungrateful sluts like you deserve to be used like this.” you moaned around his length, your eyes widening when he hit the back of your throat.

“oh, my god,” rafe’s jaw went slack, his head tilting to the side as he watched you take him in and out of those pretty lips of yours. “look at me, give me those eyes.” you pulled away for a moment, gasping for air as you flashed your teary orbs at him. rafe didn’t know the logic behind it, but seeing you cry, so drunk off of his cock, he swore it was the hottest thing he’s ever seen. “holy, fuck!” he smiled down at you, his hips stuttering as you took him inch by glorious inch. “my greedy little cock whore, ‘doing so good for me.” you batted your eyes innocently, the action making him hiss.

“i wish you were good all the time, now i have to hurt you, bambi.” he pulled you up, lifting you off of the ground before slamming you down on the bed. you gasped at the impact, your boyfriend sliding your bottoms off before giving you a light smack across your cheek. “you’re so wet down here, baby. shit, you’re just glistening.” rafe tore your thighs apart, unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off as you ran a foot down his toned stomach. he pinned your thighs to your chest, his hands resting on the back of your knees. “you want this?” he ran his cock between your folds.

your eyes fluttered shut, his tip grazing your needy clit. “please give it to me. ‘wanna be good for you again!” you cried, a sob ripping itself from your throat as he thrusted into you without warning. “fuck!” rafe covered your mouth, ripping your top off so he could watch your tits bounce underneath him. the slick sound of your cunt filled the space of rafe’s room, your cheeks heating as you listened to yourself make a mess on his cock. “so fuckin’ tight, you’re pulling me back in,” he groaned, “i might just fill you up, ‘trap you with my baby..” you moaned, unintentionally clenching around him.

“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he pulled your hair, forcing you to look down at where you two were connected. you moaned, your lips parting as you watched him pull out and slowly slide back in. “this cock looks like it’s splitting you wide open,” he brought a hand down and started rubbing hard circles on your clit, “my pretty little thing.” you cried out, your back arching off of the mattress when you felt the familiar tension building in your core. his hand was damn near the size of your head, your eyes rolling back as his cock kissed your cervix with every thrust. “gonna.. oh, my god!”

rafe groaned when your orgasm hit you, a piercing scream leaving your lips as a stream of wetness soaked his lower abdomen. you laid there shaking, your nails raking down rafe’s chest as you sucked him in impossibly tighter. taking his bottom lip between his teeth, rafe didn’t slow down the work on your sensitive bundle of nerves, overstimulation setting in when you started taking the pleasure with the pain. “no more!” you gasped, your thighs closing around his waist as you attempted to squirm away from his touch. he slapped you across your cheek, forcing you to keep your eyes open.

“you’re gonna fuckin’ take it. this is what you wanted when you decided to act the way you were acting earlier, huh? shut the fuck up and take this cock.” he shoved your head into the pillows, the entirety of his palm covering your face as he chased his own high, ignoring your screams and cries. rafe watched the tears flow down your cheeks, his fingers becoming wet as he groaned at the sight. “keep crying for me and i’m gonna breed this fuckin’ cunt— ah fuckkk!” rafe leaned down, pressing wet kisses to your neck before his hips stuttered, his mouth falling open in a silent moan.

“fuckin’ hell!” he uncovered your face, admiring the pretty curve of your lips while he came, those gorgeous eyes just twinkling up at him while he filled you to the brim with his seed. rafe nestled himself deep inside of you, stilling his movements as you two reveled in the feeling of his cum painting the softness of your walls. looking into his eyes, you could see the exact moment he switched into being your boyfriend again, his gaze softening as he cupped your face, his cock still twitching inside of you. pulling out with a curse, rafe was quick to pull you against his chest.

“you okay, bambi?” he pecked your cheek, rubbing a hand against your side as you blinked, still unable to form thoughts as your body occasionally jolted with the aftershocks of your orgasm. you didn’t answer, instead you snuggled into his skin, your eyes shutting as sleep pulled at your lids. you were going to be so sore tomorrow, your muscles already aching as rafe pulled the comforter over the two of you.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Ghosted

Male Jock Yandere Ghost x Gender Neutral Nerd Ghost Reader

CW: Reader death, ghosts, spirit world, manipulative yandere, stalking, general yandere behavior, consensual sex

Word Count: 801

(Trying to get back into the habit of writing, this is the result, hope you like it! I consider a demented ghost as still being a monster and therefore still teratophilia.)

You had died in college. One moment, you were being your nerdy self, rummaging through your binder, and the next, you were on the ground. You didn't really remember much, all very fuzzy. Was it a stroke? A brain aneurysm? You had no idea.

Once you were brain dead, though, you stepped from your body and appeared on the ghostly plane. A fog filled realm that somewhat mirrored the world of the living. Though spirits could make alterations, there were spaces untouched by the activities of the still living. 

There were a lot of ghosts. Many of them wandered aimlessly or were stuck in a loop of denial, acting out behaviors as if they were still alive. Others lashed aggressively, unable to regain their grip on their sanity. 

You mostly kept to yourself. Like Jonesy taught you. He was a former jock about your age when he died in the late 80s. He still wore his letterman jacket. You weren't limited to the clothes you died in, but you figured it was a symbol of how he was still attached to his old life.

Jonesy had taught you a lot of things. He had pretty much been your mentor since you had died. He was there waiting when you passed. He said he had sensed someone might die as he was wandering the halls of the college, where he had also died years ago. 

Jonesy said he was stuck in a loop. Being alone had made him lose his mental stability. But when he sensed you were about to die, it snapped him out of it. He said you saved him, so he wanted to get to know you and help you navigate the land of the dead. 

Plus, being together would help prevent the two of you from getting mentally frail. 

It was a bit of a paradox. Jonesy taught you to avoid most spirits, but communication and relationships were essential to staying sane. 

"You just have to know the right types to befriend. Many of the people here have a darkness in them and can drag you down if you're not careful."

He also told you the other secret to remaining stable. 

"You have to keep busy, do stuff. Don't get too bored."

There was a surprising amount you could do as a ghost. You could go to stores and yoink whatever you wanted, eat whatever you wanted, play video games, there was even a ghost version of the internet! 

Getting infinite free popcorn at the movies was your favorite thing. Jonesy always did that lame pretend yawn thing that ended with his arm wrapped around you. It was nice, though. Made you feel safe. You had been touch starved in life.

The transition to him being your boyfriend was so seemless and natural that you barely noticed that it had happened. You had never stopped any of his advances. Cuddling you, holding you, and smooching your cheek.

You didn't even question it when chaste kisses led to him kissing you hungrily before carefully taking off your clothing, like he was removing the wrapping from something delicate. 

Soon you found yourself laying ass up on his bed with him pounding into you, drinking in all your lusty moans and unabashed calling of his name.

He gripped your hips firmly as he came deeply into you; the pleasure made you see stars. His girthy cock stretched you wonderfully. You felt so lucky and special that this jock spirit had taken an interest in you, a lowly nerd.

Jonesy felt lucky too. He hadn't been in a loop. For a year before your death, he had been haunting you, It was difficult to peek into the living world, but once he found you, he was addicted. 

He loved watching you read books, study, and watch anime. He especially loved watching you shower, fervently jerking hinself off as he did so. 

It wasn't enough though. He needed to have you with him! You had been so perfect for him. You were kindred souls in a way. You were always alone and starved for attention. You'd fall for his affections easily, and you wouldn't just crossover beyond the purgatory the two of you were now in, you were too depressed for that.

Influencing people who were still alive was nearly impossible, but decades of being alone had made Jonesy angry and bitter. He used those emotions as fuel and tried many times to trip you down the stairs or get you to stroll into traffic absentmindedly. Finally, the jock was successful in busting something in your head.

At long last, you were with him. As he held you tightly, after making love several more times, he knew he'd be able to keep you there forever and he'd never have to be alone again. 

[httpsserene]

I have been having SUCH a thought since the Thigh Riding, and I NEED to tell you.

We know reader has been loving Max and Charles’ thighs, but have you seen those silicone thigh toys? They’re basically ridged pads you strap to your thigh and…well you can guess what they do with them.

I just- I feel like it would elevate it, their sweet girl opening up to the world of toys whilst in the comfort of something she loved.

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞 | 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 | 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞: 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞

summary: all my (terrified and oversensitive) homies hate vibrators!! max and charles introduce you to something better.  content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. vibrators. thigh riding. sex toys. non-penetrative sex. edging. praise kink. corruption kink. dom/sub undertones. coming untouched. sub!charles. sub!reader. dom!max. pairing: max verstappen x charles leclerc x fem!black!reader word count: 2.4k words.

author’s notes: this is from december 2023, jesus christ. about fucking time right, @vetteltea? this has been haunting me in my sleep ever since this hit my inbox, now it’s y’all’s problem too < 333 psss, next post will either be toasty part two (toto) or a smau xxx

(if you’re unsure about what these specific thigh toys are, don’t worry, i would link an example but idk if that would get me put in tblr jail and i’m on thin ice with my mentions, tags, and even dms not working :| look up “grinding pad sex toy” to get an idea of what i’m referencing in this fic. )

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You’ve deeply repressed the memory of your orgasm-deprived outburst that kick started your sexual exploration with Max and Charles. Vaguely, you can remember saying that you possibly considered the thought of buying a vibrator to get yourself off since riding your pillow wasn’t enough anymore.

[…you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one)...]

[…you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy!  i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating…”]

Charles was right. You didn’t have to go streaking or buy a sex toy to get off, your boyfriends took care of you. That night, you were satisfied by riding Max’s thigh. Then a few days later, you learned how to pleasure your men with handjobs. A couple of days after that you were fingerfucked into an altered mental state, then followed up with watching Charles cum untouched as Max ate him out. You had Max’s mouth on you next and weeks later in a Spanish villa, you allowed them to take your virginity.

The five days you three spent in that villa were filled with pleasure, as Max and Charles fulfilled every request of yours without question. In bed, on the sofa, from the kitchen floor to the dining table, from the hot tub to the bathroom shower, horizontally, vertically, parabolically, from dusk to dawn—the two years of relationship you had without sexual intimacy had been put to rest. The understanding, the vulnerability, and the trust rooted within everyone had led to that moment. It was worth it.

So, one would understand your confusion when Max drops the idea of sex toys in conversation with you and Charles on a random morning. With an audible noise of confusion, you tilt your head up at him adorably, and genuinely question, “Why would I use a toy when I have you two?” Your tummy tightened when that sentence caused Charles to look at you with dripping molten eyes and Max’s mumbled grumble about corrupting your innocence goes unheard. Minutes later, you were bent over the kitchen island, the skirt of your sundress shoved up around your waist, and your white panties dangling off of one ankle as they took turns eating you out. Needless to say, you forgot about the subject of conversation the moment they knocked your legs open.

Eventually, they do manage to have a chat about toys without it devolving into sex. 

“Schat,” Max grabbed your attention, the clink of his silverware resting on his plate further interrupted your focus on spinning pasta onto your fork.

“Yes, Maxy?” you responded, meeting his eyes with a smile.

“After this discussion, we will never bring this up again if you are adamantly against the idea,” you brought your fork to your lips, munching away with a look of puzzlement, the Dutchman continued, “But, Charlie and I were talking…and we think, that—with your approval, of course—that there’s a chance you may enjoy experiencing and learning about sex toys, and how good they can make you feel. As long as either one of us is using them on you—and, with your hatred of them—they’re also not vibrators.”

You choked on your pasta, Charles making a noise of surprise as he rushed forward to pat you on the back.

Airways now cleared, you looked at Max with watery eyes, “There was not enough foreshadowing to let me know where the conversation was going. And, fuck vibrators. They are way too strong.”

The Monegasque’s eyes brightened with humor, “Hm. I think vibrators are nice, especially when they’re in Max’s hand.”

“You’re a menace and a freak,” the older man responded, “And she’s chronically sensitive. Don’t tease.”

Charles tugged at one of your curls, chuckling as he saw the brown skin of your cheeks redden.

“I mean,” you paused to play fight with your boyfriend, batting his hand from your hair cutely, “You guys haven’t been wrong with anything you’ve introduced me to. If you think that I might enjoy something…I guess I can try it. And, you’ll stop if I tell you to, right?”

“Always, mon ange.” “Of course, liefje.”

“Okay, then. I just don’t think there’s a toy that I’ll like?”

A smirk spread across Max’s lips when he glanced over at Charles, like they knew something you didn’t. His blue eyes were alight with humor as they looked back at you, “Let us worry about that.”

You did such a good job of letting your boyfriends “worry about sex toys” that you ended up forgetting the conversation happened. Until tonight, when you walked into your bedroom to see Charles on the bed completely naked, save for—what appears to be, a pink silicone pad strapped around his tanned, muscular thigh.

You freeze in the doorway, mouth parted, struggling to process the sight in front of you. The brunette is ruined. His hair is damp with sweat, strands of curls stuck to his forehead, and green eyes moist with dried tear tracks painting the ruddiness of his cheeks. His lips are bitten red, swollen, and moist with his spit—Max’s too. The bruises start on his collarbone, deep red marks brush along his clavicle and pecs, and there are visible imprints of teeth around his right nipple. Traces of Max’s unforgiving grip are painted on his waist, thumbprints obvious to your eyes. His cock looks painful; burning red, twitching randomly, the vein on his underside raised, and precome has been leaking out of his tip for a while if the puddle by the base is any telling. 

Employing his skill for perfect timing, the en-suite door opens, and Max steps into the room with a bottle of lube in his hand. 

“Charlie?” Max coos, walking over to the delirious man, pouting sympathetically when the brunette’s head falls forward to rest on his hip, ruffling his hair and scratching along his scalp. “Aren’t you going to thank our pretty girl for putting an end to your torture?”

“–rci, merci,” the exhausted man mumbles messily. Max hums in content, dropping the lube on the bed and gesturing for you to come closer. Tripping over your feet in haste to follow his order, you ask softly, “How long have you had him like this?”

“Around forty-five minutes,” Max shrugs, dismissively, “He was getting too excited as we waited for you to join us.”

Swallowing shakily, you inquire, “Excited about what?

“Your new sex toy.” 

You gasp and Max’s eyes flutter across your face as he gages your reaction. Max sees you shift on your feet and casts look downward; your thighs are pressed together for friction—you’re aroused.

“Do you want to try it?”

“Yes, Max.”

The Dutchman smiles at you, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and leans forward to press a multitude of chaste kisses on your lips, laughing lowly when you whine with displeasure as he ignores your attempts to deepen them. “You’re being so brave for me. Take your clothes off, pretty girl.”

Bare in the blink of an eye, you look at your older boyfriend for his next direction.

“Our Charlie,” Max starts, helping the fucked-out man sit up straight, “Has been so kind to volunteer his thigh to you. Strapped around it,” he pauses to slap his hand down beneath the toy, smirking at Charles’ delayed yelp, and squeezing the meat of his muscle warmly, “Is a ridged silicone pad designed to simulate the vulva and clit as you grind. The waves and spikes of silicone are malleable and soft,” Max drags his finger across them demonstratively, “and are smooth and bouncy as you slide across it, allowing for a continuous rubbing sensation—I did my research.”

Giggling nervously as your eyes flicker between Charles’ cock and the daunting pink slab of plastic, “I can tell. Um—I just ride it like it’s his thigh?”

Max nods and offers you his hand for stability as you move to straddle the pad. Charles blinks, raising trembling hands to rest on your hips, staring at you with hazy eyes. You sigh, tangling your hand in the nape of his hair and using it to pull him forward into a kiss. His lips are clumsy but eager as they move against yours, whimpers muffled into your mouth and beard scratching along your chin. He tries to tug you downwards to have you firmly sit on the pad but is halted by Max.

“Greedy, both of you,” Max snorts, picking up the forgotten bottle of lube and uncapping it to lightly drizzle some on the toy's surface, “I know you get wetter than the ocean but, better safe than sorry.”

He pats you on the ass in encouragement, and you shake your head with shame as you lower yourself down on the silicone, draping your arms around Charles’ shoulders and pausing to acquaint yourself with the new feeling. The chill of the lube startles you but aside from that, the toy is…comfortable. The raised hump sits perfectly against the curvature of your cunt and already, you’re anticipating the focused stimulation it will provide. 

Max sits behind Charles and the bed sinks under his weight, barely jostling the Monegasque’s thigh. However, it’s enough of a movement that it causes one of the soft spikes to clip your clit, pushing a quiet noise of surprise from your lips.

“Oh,” you murmur airily.

Trying to hide the quirk of his lips, Max leans forward to whisper directly into Charles’ ear, “This seems awfully familiar to the first time she rode my thigh, no?”

You whimper audibly, knowing that he purposefully spoke loud enough for you to hear his words. Refusing to fixate on Charles’ reply, you circle your hips, breath catching as the various textures set your nerves ablaze. You understand that Max added the lube to prevent any unwanted roughness—it’s rendered unnecessary as your arousal starts to leak. Digging your nails into the younger man’s back, you rock your hips back and forth slowly, moaning freely as the waves are a consistent friction against your labia. 

“It’s–fuck—i-it’s good.”

“Stuttering already,” Max tuts, and you feel the heat in your cheeks radiate down to your bouncing chest. Your rhythm roughens; dragging yourself along the toys in desperation, toes curling at every random press of the spikes against your outer lips and clit. Charles gasps in relief, your quickened pace causing his cock to bounce and rub against his abdomen in his puddle of precome. He gets lucky on every few grinds when you undulate forwards and his cock bounces to glide against your navel. His hands grip firmly around your hips and shove them into a jerkier motion, keeping you close to him so his reddened length can be soothed against your skin constantly. 

The change in angle and position has caused the spikes to form a barrage around your clit and the waves drag over your entrance, teasing you with the feeling of being opened up. Dropping your head to hide your face in Charles’ neck, you muffle your pitchy moans and shrieks by tasting the sweat beading on his skin.

“I’m jealous, schatje,” Max speaks, “I almost want to pull her off of your thigh and have her sit on my face.”

Fresh tears spill from Charles’ eyes as he begs, “N-no-no—mmmph—please, ‘m close.”

Your hips start to rabbit against the toy, and the texture between your legs is overwhelming but too pleasurable to consider slowing. 

Max yanks Charles’ head backward with a fist in his hair, “Do you want to cum, Charlie?”

The man in question babbles incoherently, chest trembling from lack of oxygen as he continues to sob; he tries to nod, but can’t, thanks to Max’s firm grip. The burning of his scalp doesn’t subdue him, it encourages him to keep tugging so the pain floods endorphins through his body. 

“You know what to say,” Max states calmly, the words sending shivers down your spine. Your own body starts to tingle as you taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue; you’re too delighted at the new sensations to let any embarrassment build from reaching the edge quickly.

Charles struggles to get his tongue, lips, and vocal cords to cooperate. You see a frantic look light in his eyes, sure he’s trying to puzzle out what language he’s sane enough to communicate in. He manages to verbalize sounds that could be likened to Max’s name if you brush past his whimpers and cries.

“Plea–,” Charles tries to push the word out pitifully, “—ah, sss'il te pla—” his cock bumps against your navel, and his words cut off, eyes rolling back before he can finish begging.

A humorous laugh leaves Max; this is the easiest way Max has ever made the younger man lose his speech. He softens, and gives into the pillow prince, “You did so good, Charlie. You tried your hardest for me, yeah? You begged so prettily tonight, almost as pretty as you look. Such a good boy, Charles. You can cum.”

Strikingly, the approval works for both you and Charles. Twin cries of pleasure erupt as your orgasms blur your vision and burn through your muscles. The feeling of Charles’s cum splattering against your stomach sends another burst of light through your skin as you continue to grind fitfully on the silicone pad. A lake of wetness puddled on the poor man’s thigh, that squelches as you move. 

Charles is rendered silent as his cock continues to pulse even when the flow of his release ceases. Max brings his hand down to squeeze at his base and Charles releases a choppy scream as it pushes another couple of ribbons out of him. His hips thrust upwards with every string, forcing hisses of over sensitivity to slip from you as it drags the soaked pad against your cunt. You would happily crawl off his thigh, but you haven’t regained feeling in your legs yet. 

Thankfully, Charles deflates back into Max, his cock finally softening and slowly losing some of its flush. Tears start to leak from his eyes again, his chest shuddering through little sobs. You whimper softly at his tears and Max pulls you both to rest comfortably in the bed, as he shushes you two through the comedown. When the tears, shivers, and shakes halt, a pleased tilt of lips rises to Charles's face as his eyes dance between you and Max. 

The Dutchman unclips the toy from Charles’s thigh and smirks at the wet peeling noise that sounds.

“So…I assume this toy has your approval?”

© httpsserene2023

[tsunaso]

"OH MY SWEET SUMMER CHILD"

pairing. (Implied) Omega!Mikey x Alpha?Sanzu x Alpha!male reader

synopsis. when Alpha Sanzu messes with the wrong omega, he learns the hard way that karma never misses. — 1.5k words part two.

warnings. mdni, amab reader, dead dove, drugging, (Implied) bitching, degradation, dubcon (due to altered state), physical restraint, dark omegaverse, humiliation, mentions of death.

alpha Sanzu who is a joke of an alpha. has little to no respect for beta’s nor omega’s, and acts like he can get whoever he wants when he wants. thinks that his looks will let him get away with harassing omegas, but karma always catches up.

alpha Sanzu who messes with the wrong omega one day and lives to regret it for the rest of his pathetic life. the omega who he had almost gone too far with was mated to the gang leader who owned the city!

　　　　　　　　　　　　⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ☆ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅　　　　　　　　　　　

“What the fuck is going on!?” Sanzu yells practically foaming at the mouth as he struggles against the ropes tying him to a wooden chair. 

“My my… what am I going to do with such a dumb fucking alpha, practically came here willingly, with the way you jumped at the smell of omagan slick.” M/n lowly purred as he strolled into the room. his scent glands work on overdrive as he pumps it out into the bare room. 

Sanzu instinctively starts to pump out his scent to try and dominate M/n’s but for some reason, his scent is a hint sweeter than usual, he makes a face but he doesn’t pay any mind to it.

“You know you're lucky that it was so easy to bring you in,” M/n face drops into a scowl. “Otherwise you would have been shot dead.”

“What are you even talking about?!” he rages, “Once I’m out of these stupid ropes I’m going to fucking gut you.” Sanzu roars with venom as he starts to growl.

M/n ignores whatever nonsense Sanzu is yapping about before sparking a lighter to light his cigar. He takes a puff before finally looking at Sanzu again. “You don’t even know why you're here… do you?” M/n says in mock pity as he lets out a quiet laugh. 

Sanzu finally stops posturing and really takes in the situation. His eyes dart around the room as he notes that he has been kidnapped to an unknown second location and is trapped in a bare room with a chair, mattress, sink, and toilet.

“Where am I?” Sanzu says quietly as he finally stops pulling at his restraints. His bright pink hair falls onto his cheeks as he tilts his head slightly. This action made his eyes contrast with his hair beautifully, you could almost say he looked cute.

M/n looks at him amused by what he is trying to do. “You’re in my-” M/n cuts himself off as he hears the door open. “Actually, hold that thought…”

M/n fully turns around to meet his mate's gaze. “Love! I’m so glad you came!”, he pauses “I know it must’ve been hard for you to come… here,” M/n says in a softer tone.

Sanzu’s eyes widened as he realized who had just entered the room. A relatively short man with long black hair and equally black eyes stared blankly at Sanzu. The man's face cringes before looking away and stepping closer to M/n.

“Is this why you kidnapped me? For some no-name omega?” Sanzu questions, his face mask of disbelief and shock. This was the omega he was messing around with in that club's alleyway!

M/n’s eyes narrow sharply, his scent souring in anger. “Watch your fucking mouth, you're talking to my mate.” M/n rages on, “You put your dirty grubby hands on my mate.” 

M/n clenches his fist, before letting out a quiet sigh when he feels his mate rest his hand on the small of his back. “This was the one that hurt you, yes?” M/n asks, turning to face his mate.

As soon as M/n says those words the tension in the room thickens as Sanzu’s mind races, as he tries to think of just who M/n is… did he really piss off such an important person?

The black-haired omega stiffly nods, a pinched look coming across his face. “I should’ve rocked his shit in that fucking alleyway” the omega lets out a growl, just thinking about the event made him angry.

Omagan pheromone starts flowing into the room like an angry river but, just as soon as it appears, it disappears. “Just.. leave me out of whatever you're about to do.”

Sanzu watches as the small omega struts away, he had never scented anything like that before. With pupils blown wide, he tries to come up with what it smells like but he can’t put it into words.

Why was he perceiving that omega's scent like this? He had scented him before… and he didn’t smell anything great, so why did he smell so different?

“Are you finally feeling the effects of the drugs?” m/n inquires, bending slightly to take in Sanzu’s ever-sweetening scent.

Sanzu blinked slowly, his pupils blown wide as the realization began to settle like poison in his bloodstream. His scent was sweeter. Too sweet. Like ripe fruit on the verge of rotting—cloying, wrong.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” His voice cracked as the first tendrils of fear curled around his throat.

M/n smirked, blowing out a slow stream of smoke that lingered in the air like a noose. "What do you think, Haruchiyo? Or should I say… soon-to-be Harumi?” 

He crouched down to meet Sanzu’s panicked gaze, tilting his head mockingly."That’s a cute nickname, isn’t it? You better start thinking of one because you won’t be the same 'big bad alpha' much longer."

Sanzu thrashed against the ropes again, his muscles straining, but it was futile. His movements felt sluggish now, like his limbs weren’t entirely his to command. The scent swirling off him was intoxicating—too intoxicating, and the disgusting sweetness of it made bile rise in his throat.

"You drugged me?" His voice was shaky, cracking on every syllable. He wanted to sound angry, but even he could hear the fear starting to bleed through.

M/n let out a low, mocking chuckle. “Oh, it’s so much more than a drug. You see…” He leaned in close, letting the embers of his cigar illuminate his smirk. 

“We’ve been working on something special for alphas like you. Arrogant pricks who think they can take whatever they want without consequence. It speeds up the shift—unlocks a side of you you’ve probably felt in your worst nightmares. You’re going to be softer, sweeter, more… submissive than you’ve ever dreamed of being. Just think of it as karma.”

Sanzu’s heart pounded in his chest as his body betrayed him further. The gummy sweetness of his scent thickened, curling around him like a noose. His mouth was dry, his skin too warm, and his thoughts felt like they were swimming in syrup.

“Fucking liar,” Sanzu spat, though it came out weaker than he intended. “You’re bluffing. This isn’t possible.”

“Oh, but it is.” M/n grinned and straightened up, casting a glance toward the door. "I thought about just killing you, you know. But, my mate is merciful, and I figured—what’s worse? Death or living the rest of your pathetic life as what you perceive to be at the bottom of society, as an omega? You’ll be crawling for scraps, begging for mercy, begging for attention.”

The sound of footsteps approaching the room pulled Sanzu from his growing panic. The door creaked open, and in stepped the omega mate once again, his dark eyes locked on Sanzu with unrelenting hatred.

“Still talking, huh?” the omega muttered. He crossed his arms, his posture deceptively casual. But his scent—it sharpened, cutting through the air like a blade. Even drugged, even in his haze, Sanzu felt the command embedded in it.

“M/n,” the omega said, his voice cool and steady, “how long does he have before it starts? The heat, I mean.”

Sanzu froze, his eyes snapping between them. The heat?

M/n looked at the omega with a knowing smile, shrugging casually. “Oh, not long now. A couple of hours, maybe? By then, he’ll be begging someone to knot him. Doesn’t even matter who.”

He exhaled more smoke, his tone darkening. “You’ll finally know what it feels like to be hunted, Haruchiyo. You’ll know what it’s like to be nothing more than a toy for someone stronger than you.”

Sanzu’s breathing turned shallow, panic clawing up his chest. “You’re lying! You can’t… You can’t fucking do this to me!” he snarled, but his voice wavered, and his pheromones betrayed his fear.

“Oh, darling,” M/n purred mockingly, leaning close enough that Sanzu could feel the heat of his breath against his ear. “I already have.”

The omega stepped closer, standing just within Sanzu’s line of sight. He tilted his head, studying him like one might a bug under a microscope. “He’s still posturing,” he said flatly. “Let me stay and watch when it starts.”

M/n arched a brow, smirking. “You’re so cruel, my love.”

The omega’s lip curled in a wicked smile. “I told you before—we should’ve killed him in that alley. But I guess watching him crumble works too.”

Sanzu wanted to snarl, wanted to roar, wanted to say something, anything that would put him back in control. But his body was growing weaker. His scent—the sickly sweetness was almost unbearable now, and the ache in his lower abdomen made his stomach churn.

He was losing.

And for the first time in his life, Haruchiyo Sanzu was terrified.

[fanaticsnail]

Don't Run

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 4,600+

Synopsis: In one moment, you were standing beside your boss and enjoying the silence between you as you worked. In an instant, the dynamic shifted: you became the hunted as opposed to the hunter. When you ducked towards the ground, shifting your eyes and tilting your head to read the tracks left by your target, Rob Lucci was hit by a wave he had long since prayed he had repressed. Instinct.

Themes: Rob Lucci x afab!reader, NSFW, 18+, smut, MDNI, primal play, no prior relationship, dub con, half-shifting, monster loving, zoan tendencies, Lucci has hit his season, knotting, slight yandere, hunting, a little out of character for Lucci as a monster, Lucci in rutt, workplace rivals to lovers, chasing, claiming, use of the word 'mate'.

Notes: I wanted to do something for Lucci that leaned a little more into the monster aspects of Zoans. I hope you enjoy!

Everything happened so fast. 

In one moment, you were standing beside your boss and enjoying the silence between you and him as you tracked a pirate for the celestial dragons. Feet falling in perfect synchrony, breaths silenced while your eyes both focussed, you found the trail you were searching for with relative ease. 

That silence was not to remain as such for long. In an instant, the dynamic shifted: you became the hunted as opposed to the hunter. When you ducked towards the ground, shifting your eyes and tilting your head to read the marks left on the ground, Rob Lucci was hit by a wave he had long since prayed he had repressed. As he took in the way your body arched and knelt low to the ground, he automatically undressed you with his eyes and saw himself claiming you as his Zoan alter. He couldn't fight it, it all coming to him as automatically as breathing or walking.

Instinct. 

Rob Lucci had earlier dismissed Hattori so the two of you could focus on using your keen eyes to search for any indication of your target, rather than your usual inclination to hand feed the bird dried corn kernels you traveled with. You were sweet amongst the sour faces he grew accustomed to. Despite how you were in battle, you always had that way of brightening any room you entered. The celestial dragons almost enjoyed you, and your coworkers adored you. 

But Lucci? He both hated the softness to you, and appreciated you being that presence for him when the time came. Your natural charisma did wonders for sating the cruelty of the celestial dragons, but Rob Lucci despised the small up-twitch in your tone. You were sweet, despite your role beside him. Too sweet for your own well being. 

The Zoan-Fruit user kept his eyes sharp and focussed, only ever affixing to the ground in front of you both while you searched. When you bent down to peer at the tracks a little closer, his chest rattled with a deep growl that bubbled and shook within his throat. 

The perfect arch of your back awoke that desire deep within his soul. His withheld urges finally broke when he saw you in that position. Ass rounded, kneeling to the ground, focussing on your task on all fours, the beast within him swelled to life against his will. You looked so good on your knees, almost playing that role he so desperately needed you to.

Submission. 

At hearing the growl, you hastily snapped your head in his direction for further instruction. Truly thinking he saw something you did not manage to see, your eyes rounded innocently and your lips parted in a soft heart-shape while you gazed at him in question.

“Sir, what is it?” you asked quietly, darting your eyes between his while reading his squared body language, “Are they close? Do I need to-?” 

“-Don’t run,” his growl cracked from the recesses of his diaphragm, “It will make what’s about to happen so much worse.” 

Slowly rising to your feet, you turn fully to face him. His purred growl grew in intensity, prompting your foot to fall back and prepare yourself for battle. Unknowing what you were preparing yourself for, you ensured you remained below his eye level while you flexed your muscles to ready yourself. 

“Have we been found?” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his face while you peered through your peripherals around the area. 

“No,” his tone quietened, that same rattling purr swelling in his chest. His lip almost upturned at the corner as he uttered a small quip, “Not yet, at least.” 

“Then what is it?” Your voice raised in frequency. You arched your back and rolled your shoulders back. “I just found their tracks. What’s wrong-?” Your sentence halted as Lucci cut you off. 

“-You... You've triggered it,” he snarled with a vile accusation laden in his tone. “The way you bent just now. I-... I need-...” He shook his head, attempting to chase away the need pooling in his belly and the adrenaline igniting a fresh wave of lust over his skin. 

Mate. 

His rounded pupils split into symmetrical slits as he focuses his shifting gaze on your much smaller form. He had hoped he had grown out of this by now, and took the correct combinations of melatonin and herbal remedies to sate it. But the way your ass all but presented to him while you knelt towards the floor said otherwise. 

Body swelling with the ignition of need, he felt his top and bottom canines protrude from his jaw while his muscles broke and cracked to morph into a larger form. His eyes never left yours as your own rounded in fright. Those eyes, that soft innocence in your face, the almost unnoticeable quiver in your lip while your heartbeat began to drum in your ears. 

“Sir?” your soft and unsure voice cut through the air, “What did I trigger? Some form of trap they laid out for us?” 

Lucci’s body vibrated with intensity. His body propelled his foot forward against his will. He was screaming to have a semblance of control. His arched eyebrows furrowed down in the center of his head. The pads of his feet expanded and broke through the soles of his shoes. Toes curled, claws protruded and cut into the dirt beneath him. 

You turned on your heels, eyes holding firmly against his and checking him over. Lucci was angry. Everything about him was screaming both aggression and need, and it began to frighten you. 

“Don't run,” he warned you, his usual cadence cutting through and his eyes widened in panic, “It will be so much worse if you do. I can't-... I won't be in control of myself if you run.” 

“What can't you control, sir?” You frown at the way your voice catches in your throat, your fright rising and taking over your body, “Talk to me. What is going on?” 

“Zoan Fruit users,” Lucci purred, a cruel smile rising on his face as he lowered his body down to the floor, “Take on similar urges of their animal counterpart. I-... I thought I'd repressed it enough.” His shoulders rolled back, his unblinking eyes drinking you in as he crouched in a low position, “But, it appears, I have come into my season.” 

Temperature fluctuations and travel had taken its toll on his body and mind, confusing the beast within him and driving his urges wild. Although he claimed disinterest in you, you were his perfect match. He hated that. Your sweetness countered his terror, your haste in fights married themself perfectly his own brutal rage. He needed you to submit to him, and he needed to ensure you did so quietly to not bring you harm.

Your eyes widened further, your arms falling out to the sides as your body began to make a choice for you. 

Rob Lucci was telling you he was consumed with the lust of the beast lingering beneath his skin and swelling his adrenaline. Putting together the pieces yourself, it seemed the animal within had chosen you to breed whilst in the middle of a mission. While you did find Lucci attractive, his abrasive and standoffish attitude pushed back your desires for him. You would rather approach Kaku to date than Rob Lucci. He was at least reasonable in your eyes. The only redeeming quality about Rob Lucci was that cute little pigeon he usually traveled with. 

“I would never ask this of you,” he halted his steps towards you, his body trembling beneath the physical strain of holding himself back, “But I can’t contain it for much longer. If, just for a moment, you could consider allowing me to be close to you,” his snout protruded, his eyes darkening as his lust deepened, “Just inhaling your scent could sate me. I wouldn’t need to c-claim you. Just allow me to hold you for a moment, a-and I can repress the need to-... fuck you.” 

More of his body gave way. His calves extended to a taller stature as his chest broadened with his skin stretching and darkening over his body to the warm gold and dark spots you had only even seen in battle. You had never been darkened by his terrifying silhouette before, never having his animality facing you. Only ever having worked beside him in this form, your heart began to panic. 

Your strength was haste in battle. Scrapping with a flurry of jolts while using your speed to counter opponents twice your size. While you attempted to scream at your body to rid it of its fear and stand your ground, your training immediately kicked in and your reflexes propelled you to run. 

“Don’t run.” 

The barked order only ignited your need to flee to safety. Immediately picking up your heels, you sprinted at your full speed throughout the heavily wooded area. You barely heard the roll of "No!" roaring from his chest as you ran.

Branches snapped beneath your feet as you sprinted towards your freedom, attempting to remain as quiet as you could with the man clawing at your achilles. Your body pushed you to full acceleration, your chest burning from the intensity of your adrenaline swelling your veins. Knees brushing with the shrubbery, breath controlled and steady, you continued to run until you felt yourself far enough from the beast to hide. 

Concealing yourself to the best of your ability on the moss-covered forest floor, you crawled backwards beneath the coverage of a fallen tree trunk. Your heart pounded in your chest as you heard the heavy panting of the leopard-man tracking you. Lucci was cold, calculated, borderline sociopathic, and usually without emotion. You felt you would be able to reason with Jabra or Kaku if they were like this, even giving into them if they’d asked politely enough. But Lucci scared you.

You heard heavy sniffs of the air, prompting you to raise your palm to clap over your nose and mouth to stifle your shocked breathing. You had absolutely lost the trail of your target now, choosing to run from your colleague while he lost control of himself in lieu of following them and bringing them in. Scrunching your eyes tightly shut, you felt four sets of heavy paws digging into the branch on top of you. 

Holding your breath, you made yourself as small as possible. Legs tucked into your chest, arms around your calves, and palm still clapped over your lips, you hid from the monster searching for you. Heavy inhales and deep rumbling purrs shook the air within Lucci’s chest and shook you to your soul. 

Behind the shroud of your eyelids, all you could picture was the man transformed into the beast above you. What would it be like to finally be caught by him? What would he do? Could he be reasoned with? Would he immediately attempt to fuck you into submission?

You did not have to ponder for much longer as the bark split beneath his claws, severing a hole in your makeshift covering with the tear in the fallen trunk. You stifled your scream, scampering to both flee outwards and bury yourself deeper inwards beneath what remained of the shelter. The two options fighting within your mind had your body uncooperative to your whims. As you finally chose to flee outwards, two large paws circled your ankles and tugged you back in beneath the large trunk. 

The animal had captured you, pinning you beneath him and growling into your face. Back laying flush with the ground, your widened eyes peered up at the half-shifted man caging you within his extended arms. His jaws split into a large snarl, saliva connecting his upper and lower jaw as he roared down at your body. 

Turning your head to the side, you expected him to bite and claw at you: hastily slashing your throat and leaving you to die in a pool of your own demise weeping out of you. But it never came. 

In lieu of such pain and slaughter from the man turned beast, you felt a friction on your stomach down over your clothed cunt. Your neck turned, his beastial jowls pulling back and extending his coarse tongue to roll over your flesh and swipe at your pulse. His hips snapped feverishly forwards, rutting his red-tipped cock against you while staining your pants with his damp precum. Inhaling your scent, he lapped at your neck and began to gnaw at the muscle: not enough to break the skin, but firm enough to hold you steady while he rubs his otherworldly cock against your clothed center. 

“Mine,” he purred against your skin, his neediness increasing in the friction against your abdomen, “Mine.” His repetition of the word rose in volume the longer he rut into you. His glossy precum dribbled against your pants, completely dampening it while he continued to growl and preen against your neck. Each time it made contact in a crude glide against your clit, your breath hitched as arousal began to seep from your slit. 

Rob Lucci was no longer reachable as the large leopard humanoid dragged his cock against your clothed heat. Gasps, grunts, and growls exited him as he continued on. He couldn’t finish like this. Not after the chase. He had you pinned beneath him, and the Zoan creature wanted to claim you completely as his prize. 

Fabric broke as his claws ribboned the material of your pants. Your legs kicked out, but his knees pinned your thighs wide as his cock bobbed with need. Within the beast, Lucci was screaming at himself to at least have some semblance of decorum. He could see you through his otherworldly eyes, glaring at you as you squirmed beneath him. 

“Still,” the beast growled, looking at your exposed cunt as it glistened with arousal. You scrunched your eyes shut and attempted to block the next few moments out. He was going to fuck you, just as he said he would, and he was going to be in this form while he did. 

In another life, you could’ve seen you both continuing to work together, building a comradery rapport as you had been for the past year. You may have even called him friend by the end of it, perhaps being open to a relationship should he halt with his cold attitude and showcase some semblance of warmth. 

“Look,” the rumbled order purred from above you. You opened your eyes, gently turning your head towards the man towering over your cowering form. The only reason you truly ran from him in the first place was due to the fright that overcame you at being on the receiving end of his wrath in this form. You would’ve never ran if you knew the kindness in the beast’s eyes as he stared down at you. His cock twitched as it made contact against your glistening pussy. His red tip leaked as he rubbed the engorged head against your clit. 

“Mine.”

Pushing the tip within you caused you to squeak out in protest. Eyes wide and gazing up at the creature, your lip quivered as the leopard-man inched further into your entrance. Your body stretched to accommodate him, the earlier grinding of his cock against your clothed cunt withdrew enough arousal as your earlier rush of adrenaline paved the way for your lust to overcome you. Truthfully, you craved this. The way he possessively held you with a need no other partner had expressed. You had never felt so wanted in your life, and within the arms of the Zoan-Fruit user, your body gave in to the touch.

Relaxing your core, you gently reached a shaky hand to press against his furred jowls. Caressing his cheek, you darted your eyes between his with a soft nod. Unsure whether Lucci was truly reachable or not, you wanted to reassure your superior that you were okay: that this was okay. The way your body reacted was okay, and your need for him was okay.

The man peered down at you like you were a meal, taking a moment to lean in to that soft touch before fully giving in to his desires. Your wrists were hastily bound within his claws as he sheathed his cock completely within your heat. The swollen bulge at the base of his cock slammed against your body: your smaller size unable to take the swell within your pussy without preparation. Your stomach bulged with the sheer size of his cock entering you, as you silently screamed out in the fine line between pleasure and pain. 

In his large left claw, he took both of your hands and rose them above your head while his right clutched at your hips. Without care, he lost himself in the feeling of your walls. You let out a soft whimper as the burn from the stretch intensified with each cruel glide. His hips snapped into yours at a punishing pace as his grasps bruised your hips and wrists. Repetitively spearing himself deep within your body, you felt your cunt beginning to clench eagerly around him. 

“Mine,” he growled once more, his pace growing rabid and feral. His thrusts were deep and intense, never expelling his full length from your cunt as you struggled to accommodate him. The burn subsided into a dull ache as his tip slapped against your cervix, prompting your soft gasps to fall away to whimpers and soft whines. Your pussy molded to his shape with each powerful thrust, but never truly felt prepared enough to adjust to his pace. 

You were a doll in his arms, his claim over you intensifying with the cruel piston of his cock in your slick heat. The way he seemed to hit all of the sensitive and pleasure forming nerves to make you cry out and clench around him had you gushing for him. You should be trying to push him off, chastising him for ruining your pants after chasing you through the forest, but each rock into your body had you getting wetter and wetter for him. You felt your body relaxing, the pit in your belly beginning to coil tight in the promise of a brutal orgasm rising.  

The squelching of his cock meeting his knot at the base had him more wild and frantic the longer he pummelled you. Completely sheathed with a rapid flurry of anxious thrusts had his base drumming against your slit. 

He was going to try and put it in. 

“L-Lucci-!” Your strangled cry had him pushing harder into you. The swell of his knot rammed against you, your tight entrance prohibiting him from bullying its way into you no matter how hard the buck or rutt. He growled in response, releasing your wrists from above your head and surrounding your waist in his firm grip. 

“Knot,” he roared, holding your waist firmer and attempting to slam his hips more intently against yours. Your pussy refused to budge, even though your mind screamed at it to allow him to. You knew he wouldn't stop until he entered that thick bulge into your slick heat, and you whimpered at the thought of him continuing to try to no avail. 

“Lucci it won't fit-,” you tried, desperately willing him to listen to you. “I can’t take y-you like this. I-If you can turn back to your regular self, I-I can-.” 

The leopard-man growled as he unsheathed his cock from you completely. You were shocked, thinking the man had come to his senses and was about to repress his animal urges and return to the cold, dark-haired man you knew him to be. Instead, he flipped you onto your stomach: face colliding with the moss-covered ground as he used the heel of his hand to arch the middle of your back and force your ass up.

In the same position that broke his hardened resolve in the first place, he immediately resheathed himself with a loud roar. The reverberations falling from his roar echoed within your chest, immediately making your pussy flutter around his hard, red cock. As the knot pressed up against you, he set a rapid and brutal pace hammering it against your slit. The heavy claps of your thighs meeting his hips had your eyes rolling in your skull, feeling completely claimed by him in the submissive position he’d curled you into. 

Crouching back onto his hind legs and planting his heels, he snapped intently into his hips from behind, slotting you down onto his cock in heavy thrusts. With his hands now both circling your hips, removed from your back in a quick glide, he used the shameful amount of slick falling from your pussy to finally push himself over that ridge. 

He managed to force his knot in with a single, intense thrust.

As soon as his knot settled into you, it caught on the ring of muscle at the base of your heat. You could taste the earth rubbed into your lips from the earlier spin, your abdomen wound in a tight vice as your orgasm halted as soon as he pressed his knot inside you. Right on the edge, and without a way to move against him to draw it forth, you felt his cock begin to twitch in the depth of your cunt none before reached. You needed something to tip you over, pussy tingling and abdomen shuddering while you whined and mewled out for him.

“Cum,” he barked down at you. His command immediately took root in your body, prompting it to submit to his wishes without question. At that order, you felt the waves of bliss crashing over you as you were shepherded into ecstacy. Your pussy began contracting and fluttering around his cock as the warmth of his own release emptied himself within you. He roared something that sounded like your name, the gurgled choke of his otherworldly voice breaking into his usual tone. 

“I-I’m cumming,” you cried out, screaming his name and a babble of incomprehensible words as your tears began to leak from the corners of your eyes, “Lucci, nnngh- I’m cumming.” You were in ecstasy, never before feeling so full and stretched by a partner prior. Viscous cum began flooding your abdomen and immediately splashing back against the base of your cervix. The knot at his base acted like a plug: holding the entirety of his load deep within you and choking you with how much volume it truly was. 

Lucci rolled the both of you onto your side, his cock still buried at the knot as the final twitches of his cock deeply spilling into you had you gasping for air. Your soft tears began to build up in intensity, rolling down your cheeks as your shoulders shook. Containing your whimpers in your lips after such a hefty release coming out of nowhere, you drew your hand up once more to press over your lips and nose. Eyes scrunched shut, you tried to contain yourself as you were overcome with heavy emotions. You replayed the events from the day, hoping it would make sense if you focussed it enough.

Your colleague had propositioned you, and while you didn’t say ‘no’, you also didn’t say 'yes,' until he was already buried within you. Terror at his otherworldly form compelled you to flee, and that chase exhilarated you to the point where your fright became arousal. Tearing through your clothes, he bullied himself into you to the point your teeth chattered at the stretch, but it didn’t feel wrong. It felt almost as if you were meant to be his-.

“-Mate,” Lucci’s voice softly purred at you. His tongue lulled out and began to drag the coarse muscle against your neck. Slowly lapping at your skin, the barbs on his lengthy pink tongue collected a few of your tears and pulled them back into his mouth. His body relaxed against you, his muscle deflating at the ring of your pussy circling at his base. The arm around your waist began to melt back to the flesh of his mortal self.

“Lucci, I-.” He hushed you by drawing you back further into his arms, nuzzling his forehead into your neck while inhaling deeply. His cock was still buried, knot throbbing as he reduced back into the mortal you knew him to be.

“-I warned you not to run,” he whispered huskily against you. His lips met your skin and pressed a warm and gentle kiss into it, “I would’ve been so much more gentle.” Another kiss melted against your skin, his words rolling easily off his tongue and pressed into you. “It could’ve been so much more beautiful. Not like...,” he twitched his cock, still deflating at the knot as he shifted back into his usual self, “...This.” 

You whimpered at the twitch, with a chuckle met in response from the man behind you. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, almost shyly in comparison to his usual cold-heartedness. You gently shook your head in ‘no,’ knowing truly that you would have a dull ache and burn as soon as you managed to struggle shakily to your feet. 

“Liar,” he muffled his lips over your pulse, his gentleness continuing as he began fixing your shirt from behind you. “You took me well, like you were made for me.” You hid your head in your hand, feeling truly fatigued and grimy after that full chase and having his cock buried balls deep within your pussy. 

After taking a moment to calm yourself down with a few gulps of air, you addressed the man behind you as your superior. 

“We lost track of the target,” you stated monotonously, “They will not be pleased with our failure.” Lucci hummed behind you, pressing his forehead to the base of your skull and inhaling now his muzzle fell back into his human appearance. He drank in your scent in any of his forms, taking you in and creating a memory of the harmony falling from your skin and rising in his lungs. 

“I don’t care. We will find them again,” he nodded, pulling back and taking a look at your body against his. You were so small, and your skin was flushed and sweaty from sprinting. “Rest now.” You nodded, your brows furrowing as you felt him still buried deep within you. The swollen knot continued to pulse against your walls, the thrum of your heartbeat deep within your pussy matching the join bulbing at his hilt. You truly felt as one with him, and you didn’t quite understand it.

“What did you call me?” You asked him quietly, “You called me something. Your-.”

“-My mate, yes,” he confirmed, settling himself behind you. Using his hand to gently caress your skin, he moved it up and down your arm before settling over the bulge in your stomach where his cock was buried. “Regardless to how you feel about me, whether you hate me, loathe me, or tolerate me for the sake of the missions: you are my mate. Mine.” 

You took a moment to think on it, rolling the thoughts over in your mind and the earlier terror his form induced in you.

“I don’t know if I want that, sir,” you confessed to him in a voice so soft it almost went unheard. Lucci tensed behind you, his muscles growing taut and already beginning to swell into his other form. He tried to calm the beast within down, managing to sate it with a few intentional breaths. Leaning into your ear, his lips and breath tingled the shell and lobe of your skin while he extended his threat with a sense of promise.

“When you wake every day with my face between your thighs, lapping at your cunt and making you cum over and over again on my face, you might change your tune,” he purred, gently tugging on your lobe with his extended canines. “When you take my knot in my office, crying and squirting on it while I hold a vibrator against that pearl at the top of your pussy, you will have it melt into your memory.” You squeaked as you felt his hand dip down between your legs and gave the tip still pulsing at the top of your pussy a gentle pinch, “When the other Zoan’s notice my scent on your body, taste our lust in the air, and see my seed dripping down your thighs beneath your uniform, you will know for sure.” 

“Know what, sir?” You asked him, turning to face him with rounded eyes. His human eyes swelled into yellowed slits, his pupils blowing in lust as he rolled your arousal around your slick pussy. His cock swelled within you, although his knot began to deflate. He slowly began to rock into you, fucking his cum back into you with slow and heavy motions. 

“You’ll know who you belong to,” he whispers, his lips meeting the corner of your mouth as his bucking kept its steady pace, “You’ll know who will protect you as his own.” His lips traveled further up to half covering your mouth. “You’ll know who will never leave you for wanting in this life.” His hand drew up to the tip of his cock buried within you, pushing down on your stomach while he fucked steadily into you. “You’ll know you’re mine.” 

“Yours?” you gasped, already feeling the need begin to rouse in your abdomen. Lucci’s lips covered your own, his pace beginning to pick up as he felt his own need swell in his stomach within his human body. Tongues colliding, teeth gnashing, he sloppily fucked into you while he passionately kissed you with all of the emotion he no longer repressed. While it was not yet love, you could feel the beginnings of the fresh sparks rising between you. Pulling away, he bore his intense and possessive gaze into your eyes, uttering one word that had you immediately almost cum there and then.

“Mine.”

And you were his, just as much as he was yours.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dave Lizewski x best friend fem!reader

Summary: Dave is devastated by your supposed crush on his alter-ego, Kick-Ass.

Genre: hurt and comfort, fluff

Warnings: jealous!Dave, swearing, not explicitly consensual kissing (both of them are okay with it however!), blood

~ thank you for requesting, anon!! this was a very cute idea!~

DAVE LIZEWSKI MASTERLIST

The comic store was more crowded than usual that afternoon. You, Todd, Marty, and Dave had squeezed into your usual booth, with you and Dave squished shoulder to shoulder as he rambles on and on as you stare at the small TV in the corner which is playing more news coverage about Kick-Ass. Your cheeks feel significantly warmer.

"She's drooling again," Marty quips, and all three boys turn and look at you with interest. 

"Who knew girls were so horny," Todd comments with a smirk and sucks his milkshake obnoxiously.

Dave, unlike the other two, looks positively flustered as he watches you. His eyes land on the screen and then on yours.

"Hm, doesn't the suit look good on him," you hum and sigh, turning to your friends with a serious expression. "Do'you think he's young? He looks young."

"Looks around our age, so I suppose that means you're free to bone him, Y/n." Todd shrugs. 

That makes Dave blush crimson.

You slap Todd's arm from across the table. "Shut up."

"We all know you want to," Marty adds and sips his milkshake like he knows something. You chew on your lip, subconsciously leaning into Dave as you turn back to look at the TV and let out an amused sigh as your eyes stay glued onto the screen. 

This isn't the first time you're pining over Kick-Ass. You've been doing it for a while now and it makes Dave blush every damn time. Some part of him feels like an asshole for feeling that way about you considering you aren't drooling over him. Not over Dave, your best friend.

No, you're drooling over a superhero who is completely different from himself. His alter-ego, someone who is undeniably so much better than him. 

How can Dave Lizes ever compete with Kick-Ass?

Todd kicks him in the shin but you're too entranced to sense the tension.  

"What?" Dave mouths and his cheeks flame crimson when Todd points between you and him and makes obnoxious kissing noises. Dave sends his friends a frown and shushes them with a shake of his head. Luckily for him, you aren't paying any attention as you watch the screen, your mind focused on only one thing. 

How does Kick-Ass look so damn good in that stupid costume?

* * *

Sirens go off as Dave limps away, blood staining his lip. He's not badly hurt, just a little shaken up. It isn't like he could feel much of the pain anyway. He sniffs and wipes a hand under his lip, groaning. The air is cold and the night is cloudy. He's been so preoccupied by you that he's been shit at his job—or worse than usual. 

Dave prepares to walk home when he hears a small sniffle from behind a tree in the park he's walking by. He frowns,something stirring in his chest as if pulling him toward the sound. 

Someone could be hurt. 

He forces some bravado as he rounds the park gate and approaches the tree, the sniffling becoming louder. 

His body stiffens when he sees you huddled behind a dress, wearing that dress you'd shown him a thousand pictures of. Realization dawns on him. Corey Addams. You did have a date with him tonight. 

That dickhead.

"What are you doing here?" The question comes out weirdly interrogating as Dave's voice lowers in an attempt to have him be unrecognizable to you and you jump, looking up as you frantically paw at your teary cheeks.

Dave feels like a jerk as he watches your face morph into one of panic and he kneels down, now panicked in his own way. "Hey, hey, it's okay. M' not gonna hurt you. Are you okay?"

He's fumbling with his words, unsure if he's even doing the right thing. You blink at him, your eyes still watery. Dave knows you have a crush on Kick-Ass so this must be extra embarrassing and in his panic, he looks you up and down and fakes a much too insightful educated guess as a way to make you comfortable. 

"Did you just get dumped?"

You scrunch up your nose in confusion and shake your head. Your crying has ceased and you huddle your arms around your legs, resting your chin on your knee. You sigh and look around at the mostly empty park.

"I'm hopeless," you say, not looking at Kick-Ass in particular. 

Dave swallows and fully sits down now, unsure what else he can do. As a superhero he wants to make sure you're safe, and as your best friend, he has a burning desire to stay with you. You turn to him and chuckle out a laugh, sniffling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, confused.

"Me. I'm a fucking joke," you whisper, laughing as you try not to cry again. "I'm so stupid."

"Why do you say that?" Dave asks in a rush, his voice high again. You're too busy self-loathing to hear the change. 

"Because I spend all my fucking time pretending that the one boy I am in love with, I am not actually in love with him! A-and then I go around trying to forget him with any boy that smiles my way or simply walks by and they're never good enough."

Dave thinks you're talking about Kick-Ass and he panics even more. "I-"

"Like how fucking stupid am I? Rambling on and on about you when all I want is him?"

Dave's heart sinks. Shit, he thinks, so you must be talking about Corey then.

After a beat of silence, he says, "I'm sure your date likes you back." He assumes you're most likely overwhelmed since you had said Corey didn't dump you and it's late and—

"My date?" you laugh, "What are you talking about? No. Not my date. My best friend," you ramble on, tears still falling. "I love him and I've messed it up too many times pretending like I don't. I- and Corey told me David's in love with Katie and I just feel so stupid."

You're too distraught to catch on to how weird it is that Kick-Ass has more information about your date than he should as you ramble on and on to him as if he understands who everyone is. Dave can tell you're mostly just speaking out your frustrations. 

"D-David?"

You nod, sniffling. "Dave. My best friend, the guy I'm in love with," you tell him and look at Kick-Ass, groaning immediately and then holding your face in your hands like you'd just done something shameful. "Fuck, I'm sorry, this is inappropriate. I'm so sorry I am wasting your time—"

You lower your hands and then he's kissing you before you can finish the sentence. His hands cup around your cheeks as he leans in and continues to kiss you.

You lose yourself in the moment for a bit, your very real yet superficial attraction to Kick-Ass kicking in as you kiss him back until reality finally snaps in and you push him away, scrambling up. 

"What the fuck?!" you scream, feeling violated as you wipe your lips with your hand.

Dave panics now fumbles with his costume. "W-Wait, let me explain," he mutters as he frantically pulls at the zipper behind his neck and throws his mask onto the dirt. He looks up, brown curls falling in front of his eyes. Your eyes widenand you blink at him. 

"Hi," Dave mumbles, his blue eyes shining as the tips of his ears burn. 

"Fuck!" you shriek and lean forward, kneeling again as you now cover his face with your hands, all kinds of emotions overcoming you. "What is wrong with you?!" You grab his mask, shoving it in his hands. Your heart is pounding as he stumbles, falling over from the roughness of the way you're tackling him. 

He grunts and holds your waist with one hand as he pushes your hands away to pull his mask back on. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!" he mutters as he attempts to zip it up. You mumble curses and take over, adjust the fabric as you sit back on your heels and simply watch him. 

Dave.

Kick-Ass is Dave?! 

You swat his arm repeatedly. "You fucker!!"

"O-ow!" Dave winces as he shields himself from the blows. 

You continue to hit him, your mind unable to process anything anymore— "I can't believe you hide this from me! And that you kissed me?! You fucking perv!" you shout, with no real bite behind your words as your palm rests on his toned chest. 

Fuck. 

Dave sits back as your assaults calm down and groans. "I'm sorry."

"Bullshit," you clap back, staring at him. "You aren't sorry. You did that on purpose because I–" you cover your mouth with your hands, "I admitted I have a crush on you."

Dave grins widely, some confidence coming back as he nods his head.

"Kill me," you mutter. 

"Kiss you?" he asks. He's looking at you with his striking blue eyes, chewing on his lower lip. You look at him in his costume and now it all makes sense. Duh, Dave Lizewski is Kick-Ass! It's all in the eyes. How could you have missed them? 

"What?" 

"You just asked me to kiss you."

You pause for a moment but then you break out into laughter.

"I didn't," you say.

Dave leans away, hurt written across his features. "But you want it," he tries. "Y/n I have loved you for years. How could you not know?"

He looks completely serious. You know him. You've known him for years. You know that look behind his eyes. Your expression softens and warmth fills your chest. 

"You can't go around kissing girls without their permission," you whisper, inching forward as your eyes drift to his lip. Dave's lips. 

Dave leans in, almost entranced as he senses your movements. You've always been connected but this feels like a magnetic pull. "I don't plan on kissing any other girls, just you," he says honestly, not even trying to make a move, "but I should have asked you. I'm sorry. I should have—"

It's your turn to pull him in, crashing your lips against his. It isn't smart, kissing Kick-Ass out in the open like this but neither you nor Dave seem to care. Your lips move rhythmically with his and you wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. 

Dave's gloved hands tighten around your hips, pulling you in even closer as he loses himself in you. You feel so at ease as he deepens the kiss, only pulling away to catch your breath. Dave's looking at you from behind his mask, his chest heaving. 

You lean in and hug him, holding him close. "Why didn't you tell me you liked me?" you whisper.

Dave wraps his arms around your middle. "Why didn't you?" he counters. 

You grin against his shoulder. "Smartass."

Once you pull away again, Dave stands and holds out his hand. He pulls you up and looks around. Thankfully no one is around. "Let me walk you home?"

You nod and nudge his shoulder as you walk. He laughs and pushes you away a little—just like always. A comfortable silence falls upon you both and you itch to hold his hand. Instead, you ask softly. 

"You're careful, right?" You look at his costume.

It's barely audible but Dave hears you anyways. He nods. 

"Yeah. I always am."

Your hand grazes his and your chest fills with warmth. 

"Good. Can't lose you when I've only just gotten you."  

tags: @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader

[excusemyobsessions]

Will you read it to me?

Zayne x MC/You

Genre:  Smut, One Shot, Afab reader POV(no use of gender specific wording)

Word count: 1700 words

Little note: Listen, I once saw a video of two girls in which one was reading out loud while the other fingered her and it altered my brain chemistry. So much so that you get this Zayne one shot because let's be honest; he would.

Disclaimer: the poems you will read are not mine. They are a semi-translation of two poems by the Portuguese author Maria Teresa Horta. They are called (by order of appearance) Não Quero Viver and Fazer Amor Contigo.

Warnings: explicit sexual content, breast play, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fluff, afab reader, no use of gender specific wording

Minors please do not interact.

(Also posted on AO3)

It was a slow, lazy morning.

You’d woken up within Zayne’s arms, kissed his forehead, each of his closed eyelids, whispered sweet nothings into his ear until he silenced you with tender kisses. Smiles and hushed giggles were lost between the sheets until you two finally got up.

Breakfast was followed by a nice stroll, replacing his usual morning jog, hand in hand, fingers intertwined.

When you got home, he told you to shower first while he checked his email and you did.

Wrapped up in the biggest, fluffiest bathrobe he’d bought just for you, you found yourself sprawled out on Zayne’s bed, a poetry book in hand.

After he’d hopped in the shower, you’d sautered into his office, to peruse his bookshelves. Much to your surprise, among all the medical texts he’d collected over the years, there was a smaller book. The cover was red although the color was slowly fading, the edges of the spine slightly frayed. When you flipped it open, you noticed the pages were already yellowing, showing signs of handling, perhaps not too gentle. And so, you were intrigued.

The mattress dipped under another added weight as Zayne crawled into bed with you, lying on his stomach next to you, one arm lazily draped over your torso.

“What have you got there?” he questioned languidly.

He slotted his head on your shoulder to take a look at the book in your hands.

“A poetry book,” you answered, turning the pages towards him. “I was quite surprised to find it on your shelves.”

Zayne hummed, and you could hear his smile in the quiet chuckle he let out. He lifted his head high enough to allow you to see his face.

“Contrary to your belief, I don’t just read medical texts,” he retorted, a single eyebrow lifted.

“Hmm, of course, you’re a man of eclectic tastes.”

He chuckled again, utterly amused by your teasing tone.

He returned his head to your shoulder, relaxing against you.

“Any interesting poems?”

“Actually,” you responded, turning back a few pages. “These are quite romantic,” and your voice assumed this almost impressed tone, perhaps a little surprised.

“Hmm, I actually don’t remember reading that book,” he told you, shifting his head just a little against your shoulder.

You could feel him nuzzle the fluffy fabric and you heard him inhale deeply.

“Will you read it to me?” he requested in a low tone.

You snickered and let out a hum of agreement.

“This one is called ‘I do not want to live’,” you began, earning an encouraging hum from him.

You cleared your throat.

“I do not want to live

Without you

Any longer,

Not even a second

Of your sleep...”

Zayne shifted against you and scooched in closer, elbows resting on each side of you, propping himself up. You glanced towards him and he was very serious, listening to you attentively. He looked soft and relaxed, wrapped up in his own bathrobe, hair damp from the shower, brushed but unstyled.

You switched the book to one hand, moving the other out to cup his cheek.

“Leaning my whole being onto you

You are my whole existence, always.” you concluded.

Zayne turned his head to press his lips to the palm of your hand, eyelids fluttering.

“Is there more?” he questioned, jade green eyes returning to you.

His gaze was tender, unworried. It wasn’t pressing or demanding. You smiled into those eyes.

You had to move your hand to turn the page and he took the opportunity to rest his chin on your chest. He nuzzled his nose against your skin right where the bathrobe was slightly parted and the sigh that left you was of one of content. 

“This one is called ‘Make love to you’,” you told him, feeling your cheeks warm up at the title.

He hummed again, against your chest, and this time you could hear the amusement and the very clear peak in his interest.

“Undress me quickly

Until I am bare…”

You felt Zayne's hands make their way to the ties of your robe, fingers slowly tugging the knot apart.

“What are you doing?” you questioned, suddenly even more flustered. 

“Just keep reading,” he told you, voice low, mellow.

You felt your thighs squeeze together at the mere tone of his voice.

“Alright,” you mumbled.

You felt him lift himself up from your chest and you shifted your hands, holding the book higher, to accommodate him.

“I deliver to you unconcealed

My desire…”

Knot undone, his long fingers slid up the collar of your robe, the two sides which were draped over your chest, and slowly tugged it open. Goosebumps rose instantly on your now exposed skin and a little shiver ran up your spine at the shift in temperature. Your nipples hardened in an embarrassing way.

“Zayne…” you whispered.

He smiled down at you.

“Go on,” he encouraged you.

You took in a breath through your nose and swallowed down the excess saliva pooling on your tongue before you returned your gaze to the book. You continued.

“I want to make love to you

Take all at once

Your mouth, a kiss…”

Zayne lowered his mouth onto your skin. His lips slid over your chest in a featherlight touch, from the very center, lower, between your breasts. He pressed his nose to your skin and inhaled deeply.

“And the parts of your body

Which I do not say?”

He kissed your skin once and then a few more times, leaving a trail of little pecks all the way until he reached a nipple. His lips parted then to take the little hardened bud into his mouth, sucking on it, nibbling lightly, licking.

Your attention was no longer on the poem, however he hummed at you, once again encouraging you to continue.

Your voice was no longer as steady as you read the next verses.

“And the things you do to me

Under the moonlight?”

His hand took hold of the breast he’d just abused and continued threading it while his mouth moved on to your other nipple. Your chest slowly but surely began arching off the mattress and into his mouth.

“While I taint you

With pleasure…”

He sucked harder and a shuddering breath fell from your lips. When he bit down, it was a sweet little moan that escaped you.

But you continued, so close to the end of the poem now.

“Slowly showing you

I am yours.” you concluded.

One finger still locked in place between the pages, you lowered the book onto the mattress and let your other hand slip into his hair, holding his face against your chest.

Zayne’s eyes flickered up to your face, fire burning inside those deep jade hues, as he continued suckling on your nipple for a while longer. By then your thighs were tightly pressed together, knees rubbing against each other.

When he pulled away, there was a thread of saliva connecting his mouth to your tit.

“Hmm, you were right… those poems did sound quite romantic,” he noted, with a little smirk. “I dare say they were delightful.”

He lowered his head again to press a chaste kiss to your abused bud, as if he wasn’t the one making it as red as it already was.

Embarrassed as you were, you hid your face with your arm, a nervous little chuckle leaving you.

You heard him shift his position and when you dared a little peek at him, his face was barely a few inches away from yours. He looked amused.

“Next time, you should read me a whole novel,” he told you, voice hushed, dripping in honey.

You tossed your arms around his neck and crushed your lips against his, the book long forgotten somewhere upon the duvet.

His knee slipped in between your thighs, to part them and slot his hips in between them as he tasted your tongue. You were dripping wet and he was rock hard.

“Hmm, who would have guessed you would get off on listening to me read,” you teased against his mouth.

You lifted your hips to rub yourself against his length and Zayne shuddered against you.

“You know your voice is my weakness,” he answered sincerely, unreserved.

He reached down to position his head right against your entrance, rubbing himself against you a few times before he slid his cock into your wet, sweet little hole.

Your eyes rolled back and you arched off the mattress, biting down on your lower lip, feeling so good, so full.

“What else would you like to hear me say?” you questioned, under your breath, gazing up at him.

Your grip had loosened around his neck and you were now laying down under him, watching the taut muscles on his chest as he held himself above you.

He pulled his hips back and then rolled them back in, grunting his appreciation at how good you felt around him.

“My name,” he answered.

He lowered himself down onto his elbows again, chest pressed to yours, hips rolling out and back in again. You let your hands slide under his robe and push it off his shoulders, baring his skin to your lips. You kissed and sucked on his tensed trapezius muscle as he pumped into you, his nose buried in your hair, quiet little grunts hushed against your temple.

You moved higher, suckled on his neck, feeling his rapid pulse under your tongue until you finally reached his earlobe.

“Zayne…” you moaned into his ear.

He moaned against your shoulder, hips stuttering, making you shiver.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes gazing directly into your soul.

“Do it again, please,” he asked, voice getting slightly whiny.

You could see the blush spread out across his cheeks.

And so you did. As he fucked you good, you moaned out his name as if it was the only word you knew, the only word that felt right on your tongue.

Regardless to say, this wasn’t the only time you read out loud to him.

[milky-aeons]

— 'TIL DEATH DO US PART

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and fyodor dostoevsky; what they would be like on their wedding day.

warnings: marriage, swearing, alcohol-intake, wife reader, w.c 3.5k

ᯓ★𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

: ̗̀➛ Dazai, who never really acted like a conventional human being, also did not propose like one, either. After dating the enigmatic Armed Detective Agent for, by then, two years, you did not expect him to get down on one knee and produce a beautiful ring, like you had seen in the movies. But you also did not expect him to drop the question like it was a frivolous thing one random Tuesday evening while you both shared a drink at your favourite late-night bar.

Blinking, your glass frozen mid-way to your lips, you turned to him and said, "What did you... just say?" That mischievous smile you were so quick to fall for flashed across his face. "I said, why don't we get married, hmm~?"

: ̗̀➛ There was no other answer in your mind, your heart, than a resounding yes. For he was the thorn in your side as much as he was your other half. Through the whirlwind of months following, you found it hard to discern where one day ended and the next began. Time bled together until you didn't have nearly enough of it, and the day of the ceremony was here. It was a casual affair not bound too tightly by tradition. By the help of the agents, an old, abandoned manor sitting by the riverside had been fashioned into your very own cathedral.

: ̗̀➛ Yosano Akiko fussed over your dress, your hair, your makeup — to a point where you thought she was having way too much fun. And yet, she left no stones unturned, either. As you walked in through the building decorated with bouquets of flowers and rows upon rows of familiar faces, she hooked her arm into yours and walked by your side. Using Thou Shalt Not Die, the doctor instructed fluttering, iridescent butterflies to sit against your dress and your veil, the cornet of your hair, any place she could in order to make you glow.

: ̗̀➛ He stood to his towering height at the alter with his back turned to you in an immaculate suit of white. And when he spun to face you, you fell in love for a second time — with his brunet hair tucked behind his ear, the blue rose pinned to his suit lapel and his eyes; how they watched you. With a type of stunned disbelief that melted into adoration. When you came to stand by his side in front of the pastor, his hand reached down to twine with your fingers, and he whispered;

"You — are absolutely breath-taking."

: ̗̀➛ Kyouka Izumi played the role of ring-bearer, delivering a small white pillow with the two shining bands once it was time to say your vows. Dazai reached out tenderly, slowly, as if to preserve this moment for as long as he could, and lifted the veil from your face. His eyes shuttered. He reached for your hand and slid the smaller band onto your finger, his eyes downcast, his voice low and intimate.

"Through you I have found what it means to love, what it is to feel human, and while I am by your side — I endeavour to protect and earn that title. For as long as I shall live, I am yours. My soul, my name, they are all yours."

: ̗̀➛ As the ceremony reached its closure, when you had both been bound to each other in heart and in soul, Dazai could not wait another moment before he could reach for you. As soon as the words you may kiss the bride left the pastor's lips, Dazai had looped his arms around your waist and bent you back into a dramatic dip. Cheers and claps filled the riverside chapel, you smiled widely against his lips, expecting nothing less of him. Your soulmate. Your husband. Your Osamu, who's name you brandished as your own.

𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 . . .

"Kunikida-kun~!" Dazai's loud voice, a little accentuated with alcohol, swam over the crowd. "Play the thing we talked about!"

Curious, your head turned to the sounds of footsteps shuffling onto the dancefloor illuminated by pale spotlights. The afterparty was in full swing, you had been flanked by a group of well-wishing women when your husband's voice reached your ears. Each of you observed as Dazai, alongside Kunikida, Junichirou, Atsushi and little Kenji took centre stage. Excited murmurs fluttered through the throng.

"What on earth are they doing?" You wondered, and then the starting notes to All The Single Ladies began blaring from the party speakers. Your mouth dropped. Every single one of the Armed Detective Agents began to move in unison to the beat of the music.

And for the third time, you fell in love with him, again. Expecting that there would be many more to come.

ᯓ★𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎

: ̗̀➛ Kunikida Doppo, who, at first, had not planned to marry you. After all, you only met twenty out of his proposed fifty-eight requirements that made the perfect wife. That was the thing about your relationship, however — you had come into the agent's life unplanned, uninvited, and turned every one of his rigid ideals up on their heads.

: ̗̀➛ Yet it was only telling of the Idealist and his old habits, how Kunikida went about asking for your hand in marriage. It had been early on a weekday afternoon when he had called you into one of the private meeting rooms of the Agency's office. He'd pushed his glasses up the strong bridge of his nose and laid out his terms. He'd even written a business contract for you to sign. The page had gone flying in the air when you had tackled him from across the table. Smattering a thousand kisses against his blushing, flustered face and breathing the words yes, yes, you silly man, yes!

: ̗̀➛ To concur with both your family's wishes and his own, a traditional wedding was set in motion. Kunikida Doppo was always a man to abide by rules and regulations, but it had occurred to you that perhaps he was taking this affair a little too seriously. For your parents, he gifted them the very traditional shiraga thread. During the sake ceremony, the blond sat ramrod straight, moving mechanically to take sips from the three cups. One for past, one for present, and one for your future. Together.

: ̗̀➛ He was so serious, in fact, that you had become nervous on the morning of your wedding — your most beloved of friends helping you into your garments, trying to soothe your thoughts. What if he doesn't want to marry me? You would whisper as they fashioned your hair up. What if I've forced him into this, what if he's unhappy? To one of your many anxieties, your friend had met your eyes in the mirror, and smiled.

"Oh, honey," She chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. "You should see the way that man looks at you."

: ̗̀➛ Her words played in your mind as the traditional music was strung during your procession to meet him. The black colours he donned made his long ponytail appear golden, his body strong, his face even more handsome. As he watched you come down the shrine walkway to be by his side, the blond reached up with one hand to push his glasses away and covered his eyes. It had taken you a few months after to realise that in that moment, Kunikida Doppo had shed a tear.

: ̗̀➛ It was not tradition for vows to be spoken, and yet Kunikida asked to say a few words as the ceremony drew to a close. You watched him carefully as he picked up the microphone, curious at the intentions he had. It was in that moment that your newly wed husband faced the crowd and brought the mic to his lips.

"First, I would like to thank you all for gracing our marriage with both your presence and your blessings. It is something we will see not to squander." "Second, I would like to say some thoughts of mine, if you would all be so inclined. Marriage, to me, was initially an agreement of convenience. I had the perfect woman laid out seamlessly. And in my wife that stands with me today, I say that she is not that perfect woman I so wished to find. But she is everything more. She is my best friend, she is my support, she is the person I go to sleep thinking of and wake up searching for. To me, she is my home, and I will take care of her fiercely."

: ̗̀➛ At your small reception, Kunikida was stolen away from you by some affiliates of the Armed Detective Agency and had his sake cup topped up one too many times. He found you afterwards, and proclaimed both his love and adoration for his newly-betrothed to everyone and anyone that was within a five mile radius.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈��𝐇𝐓 . . .

"Come here," You whispered to him, now in the comfort of your own apartment walls. A considerably uncoordinated Kunikida was struggling out of his Haorihimo, cursing in drunken slurs and promises of retribution to the small sliver of fabric.

Your fingers eased the cloth out from underneath his arms and you began to loosen the knot. Your husband was staring up at you from behind his crooked glasses. He swayed a little, and you stood in front of him, ready to support him if he went toppling forward off the bed.

But then, two strong, solid arms came up to the small of your back and he crushed you against him. Burying his head into your chest, he murmured;

"From the very first day I met you... I loved you. D'ya know that?"

Your heart grew tiny wings in your chest and began to sore. Smiling, you reached up, carding your fingers through his blond locks and undoing the tight ponytail.

"The first day you met me, you told me I was inefficient and lazy, my dear husband." You mused.

He grunted. "Same... thing."

ᯓ★𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with Atsushi was one that blossomed slow and tenderly. It was a natural progression, after three years of happy dating, for the agent to ask you to marry him. Everything Atsushi Nakajima did in regards to showing his affection for you was always timid and reserved — you never expected it; the elaborate surprise he had waiting in store for you that morning you came into the Agency's offices just like you always did.

: ̗̀➛ Well, perhaps he had a little help from the other agents, for the office was barren when you entered. Your eyebrows had creased at the very uncharacteristic quiet of the usually chaotic area you worked in. You had checked the time, wondering if you had showed up a little too early on accident. But then, there was a voice — the voice of agent Dazai Osamu, shouting at you to come to the nearest window and to do so urgently—!

Each of the agents stood at the sidewalk, all holding up a sign with different characters that made up a whole sentence. A question. And Atsushi — your sweet, kind, caring Atsushi, was perched in the middle, the biggest bouquet of roses in his sheepish hands. Will you marry me?

: ̗̀➛ Both you and Atsushi decide to get married somewhere far removed from the city skyline of Yokohama. You wanted somewhere special to remember this day, and perhaps, the great outdoors and stretching greens spoke to Atsushi's beastly side a little more, too. So you chose the heart of a nearby woodland where a great, ancient willow tree served as your alter.

: ̗̀➛ Atsushi wore a suit of sky-blue. You wore a simple slip dress decorated with accents of lace and flowers, Kenji had twined some wildflowers into your hair. The fauna of the forest acted as your choir when you walked down the small trail of brambles to your soon-to-be husband who waited at the base of the winding trunk.

: ̗̀➛ The reception was held in a greenhouse funded by the Agency's private books — you and Atsushi were members, after all, so Kunikida took a little less persuading than usual to move his ledgers around. For lunch, you served chazuke, and when you took the first dance, Atsushi's eyes appeared more gold than they were violet as they looked at you so lovingly the whole time.

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 . . .

"Atsushi, they'll notice that we're gone." You giggled, bunching your dress up so you could step over the little bush of thickets. When you both reached the winding roots of the willow tree you promised yourselves to each other underneath, Atsushi transformed his arms and legs into their tiger equivalents.

"Dazai-san said he'd keep everyone entertained." He whispered, and then stepped forward to wrap his soft arms around you. "Are you ready?"

"It may be a little late for second thoughts." You teased, but looped your arms around his slender neck and relaxed into his hold. The new golden band on your finger glinted in the moonlight.

And using that tiger-strength, Atsushi dug his claws into the ancient tree bark and began to climb. Higher and higher until you both broke through the canopy cover and could look to the millions of stars winking at you overhead.

"Oh, Atsushi." You breathed in awe, taking in the wonders above. "Oh, it's beautiful."

Your husband nuzzled into your hair and whispered, "Each one represents all the lifetimes I'd still find and fall in love with you in."

ᯓ★𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

: ̗̀➛ It had initially been you and your General lover's plan to keep your engagement quiet and have a small affair away from town. Just the two of you, because Chuuya thought some of his colleagues were insufferable pains in his ass, and all hell would break loose if they were to figure out they had a wedding plan on their hands. It was, however, unfortunate, that you two had been discussing what type of ceremony you'd like to have when Hirotsu was just about to turn one of the corners. It took exactly one hour for the entire Port Mafia to know. Two for it to reach the Armed Detective Agency.

: ̗̀➛ It was no longer a personal affair. This wedding became a spectacle within the Mafia's ranks. From the lowest levels all the way to the boss himself, everyone was abuzz with ideas and anticipation, excited that one of their top brass was getting married and they could all take advantage of the time off to have a grand party. Chuuya threatened to resign several times, you always laughed at how excited the entire criminal organisation became at the prospect of celebration.

: ̗̀➛ True to the boss' word, you and Chuuya's wedding was held in one of the grandest churches Yokohama had to offer — having mysteriously skipped the two year waiting list. The building was laved in gold and stain glass windows. Chuuya wore a fine suit of blood-red and a black tie that contrasted with his wild curls, his hard blue eyes. But when they saw you come down the aisle, they softened, and when he said his vows to you, you never thought anyone would look at you with such adoration ever again.

: ̗̀➛ The main event was held in the bowels of the Port Mafia — one of the largest show-rooms this organisation had to offer, with chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and a private band playing any songs they were requested. Chuuya, for the majority of your reception, could not seem to keep his hands off of you. If you were not by his hip, his eyes would instantly go searching for you within the throng of party-goers. When he did find you, he would place a hand to the small of your back, he'd lean in to kiss you and say;

"There you are, my wife."

: ̗̀➛ There was another reason as to why Chuuya Nakahara was originally so hellbent on taking your wedding somewhere more quiet and peaceful. And it came in the form of a brunet ex-partner waltzing into the organisation's party, a broad simper on his infuriating face. Dazai Osamu took your hand and kissed the back of it, extending his deepest sympathies and that if you ever needed to blow off steam, he could give you his number.

: ̗̀➛ The Port Mafia ballroom had originally started off with three grand chandeliers. After Dazai had purred those taunting words, there was then, only two.

: ̗̀➛ After the many shards had been swept from the floor by a cleaning crew, the private band struck an up-beat quartet. Both you and your newly-wed husband took to the floor for the first dance. Chuuya's hand splayed protectively against your back, his other gloved palm slotting into yours and guiding you to twirl, skip, spin.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 . . .

"Shit, sorry." He grumbled when your foreheads were touching, the proximity sending his breath fanning across your cheeks. His pointy canines were jutting against his bottom lip. "That motherfucker — he just makes me see red."

"Hey, it's okay." You said, catching his eyes. "Because I love you. You, Nakahara. I am all yours and no one else's."

Those words touched something deep within this man's chest. Of course, the proof that you were his sat in the form of two stacked rings on your left hand, but to hear it. To look into your beautiful eyes and see the amount of love there.

He surprised you by reaching down to your hips and lifting you up, twirling you around, around, around.

"And I'm forever yours, babydoll."

ᯓ★𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘

: ̗̀➛ The initial letter you received from Fyodor asking for your hand in marriage — originally, you believed it to be fake. A shallow joke from someone who knew of you and the mastermind's occasional on-and-off relationship whenever he returned to your homeland. But as you traced the delicate loops of the handwriting that looked so much like his own, in the intimate moonlight beams of late night — you'd let yourself imagine. Hope. Only for it to swell and dwindle like ashes of a flame. Because there was just no way he would ask to marry you. That he would marry, at all.

: ̗̀➛ It was fitting then; how palpable your shock was when the slender, pale man you had accidentally fallen in love with — like a fool — was standing on the other side of your door that early morning. You had blinked hard, rubbed your eyes, wondered if you were weary from too many sleepless nights. When the stars had cleared from your vision, he was still there. An amused little smile stretched against his lips.

"So? Are you ready to get married?" You stared at him. And stared. And then dropped your morning cup of coffee onto the tiles of your hallway.

: ̗̀➛ At the news of your sudden betrothal, your family were both elated with a healthy dose of scepticism. Who is this man you are intending to marry, they fluttered around you with questions when you broke the news. Fyodor? I've never heard you speak of him, why do you intend to marry this man, girl? At that, you had smiled, not bothering to hide the small heat of blush on your ears, and murmured;

"Because he's a thief, and he stole my heart a very long time ago."

: ̗̀➛ The wedding was held in an old cathedral of gothic architecture. You don't think you've ever seen Fyodor look so refined; standing there in his simple suit of stone-grey with a black shirt. He had his hair tucked behind his ears, his eyebags were a little less pronounced, his skin brighter — but perhaps that was just the early-morning light. When you stood before your husband to-be and handed your heart over to him, for him, there was a shift in his eyes. You could not explain it, but you knew it ran deep. You knew that in his own way, he was also handing himself over to you. And you would accept all of him, just like you accepted his name.

: ̗̀➛ Much to the dismay of your family, you did not hold a wedding reception after the ceremony, but that was only because Fyodor decided to walk with you through the freezing streets of Moscow. He held your hand, and even though on many nights where you lay together he was stone-cold, today, he felt warm.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

"Fyodor?"

"Hmm?" He answered, noticing the sheepish tone in your voice. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes.

"Why did you ask to marry me?"

Fyodor held your gaze for a long, pregnant second. It was at that moment that a single flake of snow fluttered down from the grey sky and landed on his immaculate suit. Then another. Each one the same colour as your dress, each one different to the rest.

Fyodor held out his hand to catch them. "Why does the snow fall? Because it is natural. It is meant to be. I married you because it is the way I wish to fall. With you, by my side."

requested by the lovely [ @cocodrilofeliz! ]

[austars]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ 2/22 - 11:45 pm

thinking about rafayel, who’s lover finally learns about their past.

"...you did that?"

Rafayel's words were dying on his throat. He truly, genuinely, had no answer to your question. How could he possibly explain why he did it?

More importantly, how could he explain himself for hiding it from you all this time?

It was a complete accident. Something that wasn't supposed to happen. He requested that you grab his newest paints, the ones he stored in the cabinet in his studio. They were in the front, far away from it. So how did you end up reaching so far back, enough for your fingertips to graze the shell?

He had no answers for that part. All Rafayel knew was that his wife froze at the cabinet. Your shoulders were tensing and your breath was short when he turned to glance at you. He stumbled out of his stool, immediately rushing to your side.

"No no no.." He whispered, grabbing the shell from your hands. "It wasn't supposed to be now. Come on honey, snap out of it!"

When you came back to, your eyes were wide, merely staring back at Rafayel. He dropped the shell, left completely speechless in front of you.

The truth was out. Rafayel couldn't hide this time.

"Rafayel.." You whispered, bringing a hand to gently carress his cheek. "Why would you.."

"It had to be done. I would have lost you if I didn't." He finally says as he clasps his hand over yours.

You shake your head, looking down as tears start to form. "But everything you had! Your life, your people, your home.. all of that is gone because of-"

"No."

Rafayel held you as the two of you fell to the floor. He cradled your head close to his chest as you gripped his arms like a vice, praying it was all some ugly dream. Praying that what you saw wasn't real.

But it was real. Rafayel had given you his heart at the alter, effectively destroying his whole life and his favor with the Deep Sea.

His voice was soft, soothing even. "It wasn't, and never will be, your fault. I gave you my heart on my own terms, all because I love you, my beautiful bride.”

"But what about Lemuria?" You finally question, glancing up at him. "You could have protected your people properly! Instead you-"

"Hey hey, it was my choice." Rafayel is quick to interupt you. "Lemuria's fate is my burden to carry, not yours. I will happily bear that weight if it means I get to have you by my side."

There's a heavy silence that hangs between the two of you. Rafayel doesn't say much, just some small "shh's" as he gently rubs your arm. The memories are still slowly flooding back in waves, the small details at least. But the longer it gets, the more you remember.

Then comes the dreaded question.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Rafayel's movement halts as he tries to formulate an answer. The truth? He wasn't prepared for all outcomes. What if you grew angry with him for what happened? What if you couldn't handle it and left him as a result? Every possibility of you leaving in the end was something Rafayel couldn't bear to face.

So he sighed, gently kissing the top of your head. "My love, every time I played out this conversation in my head, it ended in our marriage being ruined. I couldn't bear that thought being reality."

"But this.." You say, raising yours and Rafayel's intertwined hand. "This is reality. I don't condemn you for what you did, not at all. I vowed to remain by your side, no matter what."

It was like a huge weight had been lifted from Rafayel's chest. Sure, all the hurt will still be there. The nightmares will still haunt him. The hardships will hit him like a wave. The memories of betrayal and heartache will always be lingering in the back of his head.

But this time, his beloved can know every detail. You can truly help him through it all; help him feel as though he made the right choice. And that's worth more than being the Sea God to him.

So that night, while your asleep, Rafayel gently plays with your hair, smiling to himself.

"My heart is yours, my dear. In every universe, in every timeline, my life will be dedicated to you and only you." He whispers, sealing his promise with a gentle kiss to your head.

heavily inspired by this post on twitter by user @/sovereignsylus. go check out her stuff :)

© property of austars 2025, all rights reserved. please do not redistribute

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Neglectful Jealousy

Synopsis: Ser Aemond is faced with the unsettling feeling of your ignorance, an administration of his own medicine. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond still being stubborn and in denial, ¿infatuation?, Jealousy (both sides) PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART

You frustratingly still struck no luck in befriending or at least acquainting yourself with your knight. He had been stationed to you for a moon and a half now, but still, you hadn’t even struck up at least one conversation with him. He would only nod or shake his head; his vocabulary stuck onto two words: ‘yes’ and ‘no,’ but for the most part, he just grunts his answer or, worst yet, ignores you altogether. You were tempted to ask your brother for a new knight, at least someone whose animosity for you you could not feel wafting off him, but you felt ashamed in complaining and admitting the possibility someone holds such dislike for you. So you suffered through his silence, still trying your earnest effort for him to resemble at least an ounce of tolerance for you. 

“Cousin!” You hear someone in the gardens yell as you walk with your knight. You turn behind and smile wide as you see your cousin fast approaching. You match her pace and run towards her, Aemond following in pursuit. “What are you doing here? Did we know you were to come?” You asked excitedly, finally having a companion. “No, we are sadly just passing by on our way to the north. I am to meet my betrothed,” She smiled, but you noticed her gaze shifting to the knight with flowing silver hair who stood stoically behind you. “Cousin, this Ser Aemond— Ser Aemond, my cousin, Lady Liza,” You introduced, and your cousin stepped forward to meet eye-to-eye with your knight. “My lady,” Aemond bowed as common courtesy. 

You linked your arm with your cousin, who you noticed had been staring too fondly at your knight. “Until when are you to stay?” You asked as you two strolled along the gardens, “Just until this afternoon, my father needed to sort out a small matter with the King, and we needed to change horses as well.” She said, and you feel your excitement lower as she was only to stay a few hours, and by the sun's fall, you will be alone once more. “So soon? Why won’t you stay the night and just travel on the morrow?” You suggested, and she sighed, Liza turning her head partly to steal a glance at Ser Aemond. “That is a most generous and practical offer, but Father insists we reach the North as soon as possible, no time to be spared.” You pouted at the thought, “But let us not dwell on that; you have me for the whole afternoon; come tell me all about your line of suitors,” You blush at her words. 

Aemond went stiff at the subject proposed by your cousin, and he noticed the blush on your face. “There is not much to tell; I am still acquainting myself with them,” You say softly, not entirely comfortable with the subject. “Hm… and do you not hold a favor for any of them? Surely one holds more sway than the others,” You shook your head, unrelenting. You were to open another subject, but your cousin halted in her tracks and turned to your knight. “I would account for you being present during my cousin’s acquaintance with the other lords, Ser Aemond. Who would you say had captivated her the most?” Your cousin questioned, and you wanted to scoff because you expected Ser Aemond not to pay attention during your courtship and not answer your cousin’s query. However, you were rendered speechless as he spoke. “Lord Ashford, my lady,” he said truthfully as he had the displeasure of following you around the keep in the company of Lord Ashford the most. 

You turned to Aemond, whose gaze was on your cousin, who simply smirked up at him, an odd feeling of shock and another emotion in you that you could not express swirling in your stomach. The hour passed with you and your cousin discussing your suitors, no matter how hard you tried to alter the subject. When tea was served, it offered you a small reprieve from the topic. You picked at the candied lemons as you saw your cousin place a pastry on a cloth napkin. “Would you like some, Ser Aemond?” You hear her ask, and in your head, you can already hear the silence of Aemond ignoring her query; that is what he often did with you. “Thank you for the offer, but no, my lady,” Aemond said, his voice holding a tone of civility that was often absent when he addressed you. 

You tried to control your reactions as you sank further in your seat. How was he so polite with Liza but could not even uphold the same manners for you? You wanted to think it was because of her station, a highborn lady, but you were a princess. Should that not perhaps warrant the same degree of respect, maybe even more?

When the sun was starting to set, your cousin was already to leave. “Wait! I have a gift for you; I forgot to send it to you on your last name day; it’s in my chambers; I shall retrieve it.” You say quickly, not giving her any time to reply as you run through the halls. But as you ran, you could not account for the clink of armor following behind. You glanced at your back; your knight, who was often glued at your side, now stood in the middle of the hall chatting with your cousin. The odd sensation on your stomach returned, but now it infected your chest as well. You went to your chambers and retrieved the parcel that was meant for your cousin, returning where you had left her and Ser Aemond. You tried to hide your astonishment and perhaps even anger as you saw how freely he conversed with her. Gone was the furrow in his brows or the scowl on his lips; it was now replaced with a ghost of a smile. 

You squared your shoulders and placed a small smile on your lips as you approached. “Here,” you smiled as you handed Liza her gift, “How kind of you, sweet cousin, come, escort me to the gates?” She questioned, and you nodded. You peaked a look at your knight whose once elated presence had returned stoic the moment you arrived.  “How did you do it?” You whisper to Eliza as Aemond stays by the gates, and you and your cousin stand by the wheelhouse. “Do what?”

“Make Ser Aemond speak with you? Perhaps made him amused?” You asked quietly, watching as your cousin frowned at the rather obvious answer to your query. “Nothing, I just spoke, and he answered. Is that not how a conversation goes?” She asked; you shook your head. “I tried that, but he mostly just ignores me.” You say, low-spirited. “Hm… perhaps give him time to warm up to you; maybe it is just that,” Your cousin smiled, but that did nothing to ease the burning question in your mind. How much more time could Ser Aemond want? He had been assigned to you for almost two moons but still struggles to show at least an ounce of courtesy, but he had no trouble in showing kindness to your cousin, who he had just met mere hours ago. 

“Safe travels, cousin,” You smiled and kissed her cheek, “Thank you, and I shall see you at your wedding— hopefully it’d be sooner rather than later?” She teased, and you let out an amused laugh and a shake of your head. Stepping away from the wheelhouse and returned inside the castle. 

When a new day broke, you were still plagued by the animosity shown by your sworn protector. You thought he was simply incapable of showing cordiality to anyone, but it seemed to be that he picked those for whom he showed goodwill. 

“Princess,” Aemond greeted as always when they stepped out of your chambers every morning. He was waiting for your reply; you would often bid him good day or ask about his night and if he had found a moment of rest during his watch, but you stayed silent, momentarily confusing him. Aemond squired you through all your lonesome engagements for the day, but you uttered not a single word, confusing him even more. “Good night, Princess,” Aemond bowed as you entered your chambers as the day ended. He was once again expecting your reply, but you only ignored him, administering the same actions he did you. 

Three days had passed, and you uttered not a single word to your knight; you barely even placed your gaze upon him. He never thought it possible for you to hold your tongue for such a long period of time. He had gotten used to your babbling and him ignoring it, though he genuinely did listen; he just offered no reply. Aemond assisted you to your solarium; normally, you would leave the door open, and he would stand by it, but for the past few days, you would shut it close. Aemond is now staring at a blank wall instead of observing you as you paint and listening to you hum a tune. There was a rather bothering feeling in his gut at your avoidance and stoicism at him; he wondered if that is how you felt when he would try to ignore you moons before. 

Aemond straightened his back as a squire approached and knocked upon your door. “Princess, your afternoon tea is ready,” He bowed, and Aemond saw a glimpse of your smiling at the squire and heard a soft ‘thank you’ leave your lips. So, you can still speak, he thought, realizing further that you were truly ignoring his presence. 

Aemond stood by your side as you sat in the gardens, a book in one of your hands whilst the other held a cup of tea. Aemond stared at the back of your head, willing you to turn to him, but you kept your gaze planted on your book. At this hour of the day, you would often offer him some refreshments, but you no longer did that. Was it too forward for him to admit to himself that he had missed your concern? 

Aemond clenched his jaw as he felt and heard his stomach rumble; his last meal was last night. For once, he wished you would offer him some of the food placed before you; perhaps this time, he would not ignore your kind offer. But he had scorned you too often with his disregard. Aemond shifted in his place as his stomach rumbled once more, biting his tongue and closing his eye tightly as he tried to control his hunger. When it happened for the third time, you sighed and placed a custard tart on a plate, and raised it to him, your gaze still pointed at your book. 

Aemond was stunned at your action; he stared at the tart for a moment and felt his mouth water. He lowered his pride, took it off the plate, and hastily ate it before getting caught by any other passerby in the gardens. “Thank you, princess,” he said quietly as the food you offered sedated his grumbling stomach. Aemond heard no reply from you, only the sound of a page-turning. 

As the day progressed, Aemond still had not gotten a word from you, and a feeling started to claw at him. Guilt? Perhaps. He thought maybe he should not have been so dismissive of you, that perhaps he should not have been so overly warry of your kindness and took it for granted because now he missed it. It was hard for him to watch you be agreeable with any other person in the castle except for him. He would often watch steely-eyed as you jested with the other knights or how you would smile before the servants. And the only thing you did with him was ignore his presence.

Aemond felt determination surge him. Deciding to make you return to the way it was, with you speaking and offering kindness to him, and perhaps this time, he would not be so dismissive of you. He was not certain as to where to begin and how long it would take, but that was the least of his problems because he, after all, was your sworn protector, tasked to be by your side until his dying breath. He had a lifetime to make you like him once more. 

[adorkastock]

So I don't know who to ask about this, and since it's your profession, I figured you'd know most! I like to use Magic Poser to help me draw my characters' poses, but I feel like I always wind up altering the proportions to fit the models rather than my style without meaning to just because I'm drawing what I'm looking at. It feels less like looking at a reference and more copying a picture, and it makes me feel really bad, like I'm cheating at art. Do you have any thoughts or word of advice on this? I'd greatly appreciate it. Thanks!

Hey Nonnie! Hmmm there's I feel like kind of two questions here. One, using Magic Poser or any other legit reference to make your art is not cheating. It's just using a tool the way it's meant to be used (as a reference). There's nothing at all wrong with that. ♥ However, if you are getting Not The Results You Want from this process that's another issue entirely. So, two: what do I do if the art I'm making from reference doesn't look like *my* art? If you find that working from a reference is changing your style in ways you don't like, I have suggestions: 1) do a sketch from the reference just like you normally would in whatever style comes out naturally using the reference 2) look at the drawing you did and put the reference away 3) draw another drawing from the drawing you did but try to make adjustments towards the stylization you prefer (your first drawing is your reference for your second) OR, if your brain will do this for you: 3b) after sketching from the reference (maybe a few times for good measure) put the reference away completely and try to draw the pose from memory* and see what happens. If you think you're overly reliant on references to the point you think it's holding you back then you can start to wean yourself off of them but doing more and more drawing without them. Maybe start with a 20min warm-up on my Sketch App drawing a bunch of poses really fast from reference, then pull up a new pose, look at it, and try to draw it without checking back in at all. Honestly the best way to get to a style you like is to just draw A LOT. Draw lots of different ways. Mess around with line weight and shapes. Make things swish, make them pointy, make lines that cross over a lot, make a mess, make it neat, keep going. Do a lot of drawing and investigate what feels and looks right to you. And if a tool isn't serving your goals, you can let it go. It might be hard at first but you will find your way. ♥ * Side note: I have aphantasia which means I don't have head pictures. If I look at a reference and walk into the other room, I am not going to be able to replicated it very well from memory. That being said, if I sketch a pose over and over and over a bunch I will retain it somehow, somewhere (I don't know how brains work). The next time I go to draw that pose it will be easier. Just popping this in here in case you have the same trouble.

[eccentricwritingbaby]

arm candy

lando norris x reader

summary - enemies to lovers as the two embark on a pr relationship. reader is heavily based on cristina yang and olivia pope - intelligent and knows her worth. lando treats her as just a piece of ass on his arm. the two need to keep up appearances, yet always have time to find a fight. 

masterlist

-

“i’m sorry,” you can’t help but laugh into the conference room, “you want me to what?” your father just sighs across from you in his seat, already knowing his head strong daughter would make a fuss over this. 

“y/n…” he starts, but you shoot him a look to stop, quickly. 

“i’m sorry, are you my pimp or my father?” you ask with a mocking behavior. 

“stop, y/n,” he grits out, “stop it,”

“fine,” you shrug, rolling your eyes. 

the room was filled with five people. your father, you, adam norris, lando norris, and some mean little woman who came in meaning business and barking orders. you respected her. 

your dad and lando’s dad had been business associates for a long time, never close friends, but acquaintances nonetheless. you had never met lando before, but had definitely heard about his escapades. 

“listen,” the woman starts again, “lando needs someone normal and successful on his arm, not anymore models or influencers that last only a day and alter his image, his image needs to be clean, squeaky clean,”

“oh my god,” you laugh out in disbelief, “i can’t believe i went to an ivy university just to be someone’s high end hooker-”

“Y/N!” you dad stands from his chair, “that’s enough out of you,”

“dad, this is ridiculous-”

“no its not, it’s business,” he stands firmly on his ground, “it’s four months of fake fucking dating just suck it up and do it,”

“fine,” you mumble out, “but only for you,”

your dad takes his seat again, grumbling out a few apologies to lando and his father along with the woman. they all just nod their head as she moves along with certain details. you finally look up from where you were fiddling with your fingers, making eye contact with your new ‘boyfriend’. he sends you a quiet look of reassurance, most likely that he didn’t want to be there either. you both give each other a smile, and your mind hopes that this might be okay. 

-

“so,” lando starts, attempting to break the tension on your first fake date.

“so,” you laugh, “how are you?”

“i think we can skip the pleasantries, y/n,” he chuckles, “we’ve technically been dating for four months?”

“oh right,” you continue to play along, “met you one week ago, but we’re madly in love,”

lando chuckles into his drink before the waiter comes over to get you started. once ordered, lando glances up at you, and you can’t help but find the small twinkle in his eye adorable. and then he speaks.

“you look like someone who i would go out with, without your personality, though”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you question in offense.

“i mean usually my type is-”

“girls with half a brain?” you attempt to finish for him, but he just sharpens his gaze in your direction, eyebrows furrowing at your accusation.

“no,” he denies, “just girls who are a bit quieter,”

“so, pushovers?”

“not exactly,”

“you just want a little hot minion to control?”

“no,” he tries again, attempting to find the right words, “someone who isn’t rude,”

“oh you think i’m rude?”

“did you hear yourself in the meeting? talking to your dad like that? acting like the smartest person in the room-”

“i was the smartest person in that room,” you bite back to him, “and i’m sorry i didn’t enjoy the action of being pimped out, it’s offensive to my degrees and accomplishments-”

“you aren’t being pimped out, it’s a favor-”

“oh,” you scoff, “a favor?”

“yes, a favor, you probably aren’t used to hearing that word because you’re so self-centered,” he pushes.

“and here’s two words you do probably hear often, fuck off,”

“the rest of this dinner will be in silence,” lando directs to you, the waiter now coming over with your food. 

“finally, something we can agree on,”

-

you and lando had now been fake dating for two months. you came and went from his races, he was here and there at events in your honor, you both were successfully fulfilling your duties. the public was eating it up, excited that lando was in his ‘boyfriend era’. you both in reality were still finding each other difficult. lando found you to be pretentious and rude, you found lando to be a spoiled dick. but that was all pushed aside when it came to being in public. 

you heard the knuckles wrap on your door, and you attempt to brush the tears from your eyes swiftly. shit. you had lost track of time while on the phone with your mom, well, arguing with your mom. you forgot that lando was meeting you at your apartment soon to take a pre scheduled outing. getting up after hearing the knock once more, you make your way to open the door. 

“hey,” he grunts out, before he looks at your reddened eyes, “what’s wrong?” his tone softens with the question. 

“nothing,” you brush off, “let me just redo my makeup and i’ll be ready to go,”

“wait, y/n,” lando stops you from leaving the room, “talk to me, what’s going on?”

“you don’t want to hear about this, lan,” he catches himself smiling at the nickname that slipped off your tongue. 

“i have a heart, y’know,” he jokes quietly to you, bringing his hand up to give you a slight poke in the ribs. 

“no, really?” you ask sarcastically.

“yes, now talk to me,” he laughs to you, still trying to break you out of your shell. 

“it’s just the divorce,” you shake your head, “my parents have made me their middle man since they’ve been separated, and now i have to be my sibling's therapist too,” you choke up, trying to swallow back your tears. 

“i’m sorry, y/n,” lando moves forward, beginning to wrap his arms around you. 

“i’ve just gotta be there for everyone,” you sigh, “it’s been like that since i was a kid, i’ll be fine,”

“well,” lando starts, “i can be there for you,”

“like hell,” you laugh off, starting your trek to the bathroom.

“i’m serious,” lando pushes, “i know we’re at each other's throats, but if you need anything, you can talk to me,”

“thanks,” you squeak out, “you’re not so bad, norris,”

“why thank you, y/l/n. you’re not so bad yourself,”

-

it was race day, and you were actually excited. you and lando had a breakthrough the night he caught you crying. you both finally broke down the wall that divided and protected your hearts. you were feeling better about spending the next few months with him, it was going to be a relief to actually enjoy it. 

“are you ready, y/n?” lando calls out from the other room. 

“yeah!” you shout back, sliding your left foot into your final shoe. lando steps out of the room, dripped head to toe in papaya, bag slung lightly over his shoulder. 

“you look great,” he lets go of the compliment and you find yourself blushing, choosing to stare down at your feet instead of making eye contact. lando holds his hand you and you grasp it eagerly, readying yourselves for the show about to be put on. or was it a show?

once at the track, your hands finally separate as he heads to the garage and you move towards where his father was standing. 

“hey, mr. norris,” you greet with a smile at the older gentleman.

“please, y/n. how many times do i have to tell you to call me adam?” he chuckles with you. 

“i’m sorry, it’s just too unnatural for me,”

“well please, try,” you continue with your laughs, “mr. norris is my father,”

“alright,” you giggle, cringing a bit before squeaking out, “adam,”

“there we go!” you both joke around a bit more before a certain curly-haired mclaren driver is jogging over to you both.

“hey, dad,” he greets adam with a quick pat to his shoulder, “can i steal her for a second?” adam nods, giving you both some space as lando starts dragging you over to a quieter area.

“what’s up, lan?” you ask him, a bit of concern in your voice since you were unsure of what was going on. 

“i need to talk to you,” he sighs out, eyes holding an emotion you couldn’t put a finger on.

“what’s going on? are you okay?”

“yeah, yeah,” he shakes off, now grabbing your hands in his, “i just- i just-”

“LANDO!” his engineer calls from the garage behind him, “WE NEED YOU IN THE CAR!”

“TWO SECONDS!” he yells back over his shoulder, now turning back to face you, “listen, i really like you,”

“oh,” your eyes widen in surprise but lando just keeps rambling. 

“and not in this fake, bullshit way. i want to really take you out even if you drive me crazy sometimes,”

“lando-” you try to cut him off, but he just keeps going. 

“i can’t handle your rejection before i race so, if you’re by the gate after i finish, i’ll take it as you feel the same way,” taking a deep breath after his confession, lando leans in, kissing you roughly before pulling away and running back to the garage. you stand there for a moment, trying to process what had happened before a smile breaks out across your face. 

lando came in fourth. you cheered and cried, jumped up and down with his family and friends, and then you took off. you started your sprint to the gate, ready to meet him and finally bask in your own happiness. ready to choose yourself for once. 

you rush towards the wall just as lando is climbing out of his car. his head whips around to the barrier, searching for your face. once spotted, he breaks out in a similar sprint as you did, rushing towards you for a hug. you breathe in the moment, you and lando holding each other, for real this time, finally. 

-

you both were a giggly mess as you made your way back to the hotel room. 

“you’re coming out tonight, right?” he asks, arms not leaving your waist since you had left the paddock. 

“yeah, i’m coming,” you reply, brushing your hands up and down his arms that were wrapped around your middle. 

“okay, good,” his forehead meets yours, relishing in the feeling of you being in his arms, in private, “so my room or yours tonight?” he asks in a joking tone, referring to the two bedroom suite you were in. 

“mine,” you laugh quietly, “it smells better,” you poke him in the stomach a bit and he just chuckles with you. 

“you don’t like the smell of my race gear, love?” 

“no thank you, sir,”

“alright, well go get ready, and we’ll head out in about an hour?” lando shoo’s you to your room, patting your bum as you turn around, causing you to blush as you exit. 

later, at the club, you’re seated in the vip area with some of the drivers and a few friends. lando’s arm has been wrapped around your shoulder or waist all night, the tension between you two turning slowly from annoyance to lust. kisses stolen when they can be, waist being squeezed, and overall eye contact has made you a puddle in lando’s hands. you were falling for him, deeply. and you could tell he was too. until. he spoke. 

“that’s a nice lady you’ve got on your arm there, lando,” one of the guys in the section shouts to your boyfriend. 

“thanks, mate,” he shouts back, pulling you closer into his side. the man approaches the both of you, beginning to chat to lando about his race earlier. your mind quietly drifts out of the conversation, before you’re pulled back in as the man, now learning his name to be jack, introduces you to his girlfriend. the both of them were very fitting for each other, eyes wide open with nothing going on behind them. 

you strike up a conversation with the woman in front you about her shoes, before glance over and finding your boyfriend eyeing her up and down with ease. he catches your eyes and looks away, his arm pulling you in even closer than before. you just scoff in his direction and begin to get up from your seating. lando lets out a quick apology to the couple in front of you before chasing after you out of the vip section.

“y/n! wait! where are you going?” he shouts over the music and into your ear.

“i’m leaving,” you grunt out, continuing pushing past people in your pursuit for the exit. 

“why?”

“oh please,” you let out a laugh, finally reaching your destination and swiftly leaving the building. now in a quieter atmosphere, lando drops his voice and grabs you, forcing you to look at him, “i saw you looking, lando,”

“what? at the girl with jack?”

“yeah, i saw you checking her out,” your face hardens, morphing into the one you sported the first two months of getting to know lando. the one you had on when you didn’t like him, scaring the man in front of you as he watches, “i thought you were different, but i guess then again, people never change-”

“stop, y/n,” lando sternly speaks, “i am different, i like you. not her,”

“funny way of showing it,” you laugh, “i mean the both of them couldn’t even handle an intelligent conversation if they tried,”

“it always comes back to this with you doesn’t it?” he asks, now pushing you towards his car and retrieving his keys. 

“what does that mean?”

“you always have to be the smartest, huh?”

“that’s not what that is,” you shake him off, the both of you now entering his car before you continue, “it’s just embarrassing that you would prefer beauty over brains,”

“i don’t do that,” he whips his head around to face you, “i just appreciate attractive women, are you saying smart women can’t also be attractive?”

“don’t twist my words,” you shoot back, “just drive the damn car,”

-

“i cannot stand you when you’re like this,” lando grunts out as you arrive back into your hotel room. 

“like what?” you push back, moving to place your hands on your hips in defiance, ready for the fight about to unfold. 

“a-an arrogant, selfish, cocky-” he starts to stutter out his list, but you promptly cut him off. 

“it sounds like you’re describing yourself there,”

“no, that’s all you,”

“oh really?” you taunt, your eyes boring into his with fire, “says the guy who has only one race win under his belt but acts like he’s big shit-”

“SHUT UP!” he screams out at you, but you only push him further. 

“you want to call me arrogant, baby, we both are. it’s the only fucking thing we have in common,” you mockingly laugh in his direction, his head now fuming.

“you’re so-”

“right? correct? because i am. we both are arrogant and confident however the hell you want to spin it, who the fuck says that’s a bad thing?” you ask him as his eyes start to soften, “and i am not arrogant. i’m good at what i do, that is a simple fact,” you huff, catching your breath after your anger begins to cool. 

“you are right,” he sighs, “i guess we’re so alike that we didn’t even notice,”

“i am not like you,” you shake your head.

“and why would that be such a bad thing? you met me at the gate, remember?”

“because i am not some womanizer who just uses girls, not taking one glance at anything but their tits,” you snap at him. 

“i didn’t use you, and you know i think you’re beautiful, y/n,” lando attempts to calm the situation, but it only riles you up further.

“oh fuck that,” you spit out, lando taking a step back from you in surprise at your reaction, “fuck beautiful, if you want to compliment me,” you sneer in his direction, bringing up a finger to point in his face, “compliment my brain,” with your final say, you turn quickly on your heel in order to walk out the door. 

“y/n!” lando shouts, “stop,” he jogs over to you, grabbing your arm and moving your body to face him, “listen, i’m sorry,” he sighs, his free hand not wrapped around your arm running down his face, “i know you’re pretty good at what you do,”

“pretty good?” you scoff, “i’m great,”

“i’m trying to apologize here,”

“then apologize, correctly,” you emphasize, sharpening your gaze at him, “and don’t be sorry, be better,”

“that’s what i’m trying to say,” lando pleads, “i’m trying to tell you that i will be better,” 

“don’t tell me, show me,” you push, “i’m not your little play thing, lando. i’m not one of your little side hoes with no brain and just eyes for your money,” he scoffs at your vulgar words, but let’s you continue, “i have my own money and my own brain. i am not a body and face to just show up on your arm, you want me like you say you want me?” you rhetorically ask him, inching your face closer to his, “you have to earn me,”

“i will earn you, y/n. i want to earn you,”

“acting like this won’t get you there. i deserve better,”

“i will be better,” now with your faces inches apart, trading breath from each other’s mouths, you and lando finally quiet your everlasting argument, “let me show you, please,”

“i don’t know you, i don’t know if you’ll just say this and then go back to being a dick when you get bored,” you release your insecurities to him, his eyes softening at your vulnerability - something you rarely let out. 

“do you know who anyone really is?” he asks you, voice now quiet and gentle as his hand that was gripping your arm now begins to softly stroke it, “that’s the beauty of life, y/n,”

“getting hurt?”

“no,” he shakes his head with a laugh, “the unknown,”

“i don’t like not knowing,” you sigh, your soft side now coming out fully.

“i know,” he breathes out, “you’ve always had your entire life planned for you, y/n. it’s time you just relax, and have the ability to be surprised,”

“but what if i do get hurt?”

“with me around?” he chuckles, moving a centimeter away from your face, “that won’t happen,” he gives your forehead a light peck, “and if it does,” now a peck on your nose, “i’ll be around to help you,” and finally your lips. you give a hum of appreciation to his lips, basking in the warmth they gave you. finally separating in order to catch your breath, your foreheads rest together, eyes never leaving the others, “you don’t have to be alone anymore, y/n. you don’t have to do it all by yourself,”

“thank you,” you sigh, tears beginning to form in your waterline, “for everything,”

“no, thank you,” he replies back quickly, “for bringing me back down to earth,”

“i’ll always be around to humble you,” you giggle in his arms as he laughs with you.

“and i, you,”

-

a/n - this is not proofread so i'm so sorry if its a rambling mess, i just had the idea and wanted to write it up before i lost it

[paulmescalsbiceps]

False God . ݁˖ Roommate!James x Reader.      the alter is my hips, even if it’s a false god wc: 2.1k warnings: smut (18+), fem!reader. smut below the cut MDNI

There was nothing initially explicit about what James was doing. His fingers were simply just tracing around the knob of your knee. Touching you came naturally to James, it was something he did as an instinct. Like he was born to touch you, to feel your smooth skin under his fingertips. 

The tv blared light into the dimly lit room, playing some live tv game show that was on nearly every night. You and James had fallen into this kind of routine. You’d come home from work just as he was getting back from the gym. You’d alternate who cooked while the others showered every other night. It was nice having this routine and having James to rely on. Other partners had never treated you so gently. 

It has been nearly a month since he had kissed you and while you had kissed since, it has not escalated further than that. He wasn’t your boyfriend per se, but if you were to ask James he’d say he wasn’t completely and utterly devoted to you. Touching him felt easier, granted your cheeks would still burn at the contact but you no longer felt guilt for wanting to feel his skin against yours.

Your mind had wandered to other places. You were an adult it was normal to think about things like sex. But when it came to James you know it would be different. He was your roommate, your best friend. What if sex screwed that up? 

That didn’t mean you didn’t think about it. A lot. You couldn’t help it, James lived rent free in your mind. His smile, his muscles, his hips, the imprint that showed when he wore those bastard grey sweatpants. James’s existence was just a wet dream for you and he wasn’t aware of it. 

That was what was part of his charm. He didn’t have to chase after you with his looks to make you develop feelings. No it was his kindness and adoration that had you falling headfirst. 

Sitting on the couch with him now, with his fingers swirling at your knee, you imagined what they might have felt elsewhere. You didn’t know what James was like in bed. Was he gentle like he alway was? Or was he hard and dominant? Or a just right combination of the two? 

His fingers were long and thick, hands so big they could smother your face whole. You weren’t necessarily bothered on size, it truly hadn’t had an effect on you before, it was more about how they use it. But James just looked like it was big, and that he knew how to use it. 

Heat swirled around the bottom of your stomach almost in sync with the movement of James fingers. You had urges around him but it felt so nerve racking to have the courage to announce to James your needs. 

You didn’t even know if he wanted that with you yet, if you were pushing the boundaries by asking such a crude question. Did he think about you like you did him? 

“You alright?” James eyes detached from the screen of the tv to lock with yours. You had been inadvertently holding your breath, like if you breathed he’d hear how perverted your thinking was. 

“Yeah I’m okay, my throat is just a bit sore that’s all.” You lie voice catching in your throat. But James knows better than that, he knows you. Taking his hand off your knee and reaching to switch off the tv, James moves quickly to decode your thoughts. 

“You know you can tell me what’s on your mind anytime, no matter what it is.” James is patient with you, he’d never push you to speak your feelings if you weren’t ready. 

“I just-“ You try to piece the words together. “I think about you alot, and I was thinking about you know.. stuff deeper than kissing.” You hide your face between your hands to cover James' reaction from your view. 

“Like sex?” James was never one to worry about being embarrassed, his voice rings clear with no sign of hesitation. “If that’s something you’re ready for I’m all for it.” He brings your hands off from your face to intertwin with his own.  “But you need to wait before we dive right into to, i’m all for that too” 

God is he lovesick, his eyes resemble that of a fawn as he looks down into your eyes searching for your reaction. You do want to be intimate with James, you just don’t want to be awkward. “We don’t have to do penetration straight away.” His breath became heavy at those words, revealing his intentions. James wanted you just as much as you wanted him. And he would have you anyway you let him. 

Unsure of how to respond you bring your lips up to kiss his own. Moving in sync, James pulls slightly at your cardigan pulling it off your body. “This okay?” James asks sweetly, pulling back to search for any sign of hesitation. 

“Yes” voice breathy as you pull James back to your lips. Your hands clings to the hem of his t-shirt pulling it up over his head, with James help of course. He truly was built like a god. He wasn't shredded, there was still fat on his body. That was what made him so comfortable to lay on, but he was toned in just the right way. The same biceps that would wrap around your stomach to pull your frame against his, now completely bare making your mouth water. 

James reached for your shirt to do the same, pulling off your body in one movement. He pulled back to take you in. He wasn’t the kind to care about wearing a shirt around the house, practically half naked majority of the time. But he’d never gotten the chance to see you this naked. His pupils dilate at the view of your tits and stomach so soft. 

His tongue slightly poked out of his mouth before he realised what he was doing, pulling it back in to remain his composure. Leaning forward he grips either side of your ribcage between his palms. “Is this still okay?” He’s leaning forward to take your nipple in his mouth but hesitates to get your approval. 

You practically whine out a soft yes, James lowers his mouth toward your nipple, sucking gently at the nub while bringing the other hand to softly tug at the other. Now you were really whining, the sensation unlike anything you’d felt before.

You drag your fingers through his curls pushing his head softly into your chest, craving his mouth. James could die there, he switched over to the other repeating the same routine. “So fucking good.” He moans. “Nice and soft, all for me, yeah?” He asks looking up from between your tits. 

“Need to feel you” You confess, you need more you can feel how wet you’ve gotten just from his tongue lapping at your tits. James pulls off standing to pull down his pants, you follow the same actions. 

Looking down, you can see just how hard he’s gotten. Fuck, it strains against his red underwear, dick so fat it pulls the fabric tight over his bulge. Your breath catches in your throat at the view. “We don’t have to do anything too heavy tonight.” His voice is timid. 

Pulling your eyes from his bulge you see his embarrassment, like he’s ashamed of his large size. you push him gently back onto the couch, wanting needing to take control. take what you want from him. “This good?” you ask a red faced James who nods at your words. 

You lower yourself on top of him, cowgirl style with only your underwear separating your wetness from his drooling dick. James smiles at you, like he’s proud of you for building up the courage to ask for this. 

You gently rock against his dick, his head lolls back at the sensation. “Baby.” He moans between your thrusts. The name sounds so good on his tongue, so deep and husky. “Could get off just from this lovey.” 

His words give you an idea. You push yourself off of his body to stand and pull the remainder of your clothes off, leaving you bare in front of James. His breath hitches as he takes in your figure completely nude in front of him. Bush trimmed and hips so perfect, James can already imagine taking you, holding onto them for support.

Lowering yourself back onto James you continue your shameless movements, rocking your bare heat against his covered dick. You can see a damp patch begin to form, a mix of your own arousal and James pre cum leaking through his boxers. The image is straight up pornographic. If you'd have told yourself a few months back how you had him right now, you wouldn’t believe a word of it.

“Fucking hell, baby.” James breathes out between whines “Teasing me so good. Didn’t know you were dirty like this.” His hips thrust up to meet your own movements. His whines overpower you own. James felt like he was in heaven and he hadn’t even been inside you yet. “James.” Whining his name is the only thing on your mind, like if you were to think of anything else it’d be over. 

“Could come from just this. Feeling you make a mess all over me.” His grip on your waist tightens, he’s pulling your hips down to make you grind deeper, the feeling sends a wave of pleasure to your core. “So much better than fucking my fist to the thought of you, yeah?” James' confession pauses your movements for a split second, but his hands keep you going.

“You didn’t know? Surprised you didn’t hear me moaning your name out. Used to fuck my pillows pretending it was your thighs.” James shows no sign of embarrassment, his face wears a slight smirk. “D'you think I’m a pervert yet?”

“N-no.” You stutter out, between his filthy words and his dick throbbing from between your folds it’s hard to focus on words. “I’ve masturbated plenty to you too James.” His smile beams wider. “My horny girl.” He jokes. 

“James, I’m so close.” You speed up your movement desperate for a release, needing to feel more of him. His grip grows tighter signalling that he's close behind you. “Use me then, make yourself feel good. I’m all yours lovey.” At that you spiral over the edge. Completely blissed out you have no idea how loud you are, the only sound you can hear is James praising you. “So good for me, Baby. Always so well behaved, gotta’ have you coming like this for me every night, yeah?” Coming back to life again, James is looking up at you, eyes soft and full with love. He was so kind to you, letting you use his body for your own pleasure. He was the kind to always put you before him, in all contexts. 

He pulls you down with him, your body limp against his chest. Large arms wrap around your torso gripping the fat at your ass. “Did that make you feel good?” He asks as if he didn’t have you quivering and moaning like you’d experienced the peak of all pleasure mere minutes ago. His warm hands move from your ass up to rub at your back, smoothing out the tension created from your former position. 

“So good.” Resting your head against his collarbone you curl into him. His scent and warmth so masculine and inviting, putting you at ease. Between his presence and your orgasm, you feel yourself slipping into sleep. Before you can close your eyes and drift off, a thought invades your mind. Sitting up so quickly you jolt James who seemed to be falling asleep with you. 

“James, I didn’t let you cum.” Guilt crept into your mind. How dare you take from him and not even give him the same satisfaction back. James seems to not mind, his mouth slipping into a shy smile. “Love, I did.” He claims. You give him a confused expression, not remembering him signalling that he had cum at any point. 

James pulls you up to show you his underwear. It’s the most perverted site you’ve ever seen, not even in porn. His underwear is completely damp with your slick, colouring the red a dark maroon. Globs of sticky cum have spilled out, smeared across the fabric from your previous movements. His dick, now soft, still bulges clearly against the fabric.

“Came when you did, love.” He takes you into his arms, launching both of you off the couch. Wrapping your legs around his torso, he leads you to your shared bathroom to clean you off. “Guess we’re just in sync like that. Must mean we’re meant to be.” He mutters in your ear before closing the door and grabbing a washcloth to clean your slick and his cum from your thighs.

[moonstruckme]

hi lovely!! i just had the most amazing 7 hrs of my life just scrolling through your page and reading all of your marauders work!! i never even thought about poly!marauders being a possibility until i found your page and i think you’ve altered my brain chemistry forever???

that being said, i would absolutely be so grateful if you could write a gn!reader with poly!marauders at the start of their relationship, where reader’s a much shorter than average person and the boys (who would be so, so tall) have to learn how to walk slower to make sure they don’t leave them behind. i’m so much shorter than my friends and what i do most of the times is run forward in advance and be in front of the group so i don’t get left behind. i’m totally used to it by now, but it’d be nice to have ppl recognize not everyone can go at the same pace, you know? that was so long, so sorry!! and no worries at all if you don’t wanna write it, totally understand! love u so much 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Hi love!! Omg, 7 hours??? Were your eyes okay after that? Sorry it took me so long to get to this, but thanks a ton for requesting and I hope you like it <3

poly!marauders x gn!reader ♡ 644 words

It’s mainly James and Sirius that are the problem. Remus has learned to hold your hand to temper his own long-legged pace, but much like with talking, when James and Sirius get together they start moving at double the speed. 

“Should we call them?” he asks. 

You consider it. “Let’s see how far they get before they notice.” 

A couple more minutes go by, and Remus can barely see the tops of their heads through the crowded sidewalk. 

“Still no idea?” He searches for notes of dejection in your tone, but finds only amusement. 

“None.” 

“Let’s hide.”

He blinks. “What? No, love…” He sighs reluctantly, but lets you tug him into a nearby coffee shop. 

You buy them each a hot chocolate, and it’s five more minutes before Sirius and James go by in the shop’s window, appearing slightly bemused but otherwise unconcerned. You make to go outside, but this time it’s Remus who holds you back. 

“No, let them stew a minute.” 

The next time they come by, the pair looks noticeably more troubled. Remus knocks on the window, and you both wave when they turn to you, gawping. 

The bell jingles as they come inside. 

“Hey, we’ve been looking for you.” James rubs his hands together, blowing warmth into them. Remus feels a tiny bit guilty and takes them between his. He pretends not to see the toothy grin James shoots him. 

“Oh?” Remus makes his tone casual, and you sip at your hot chocolate to hide your smile. “For how long?” 

“Like, five minutes. You just disappeared,” Sirius complains, scooching into your chair so that you have to share it with him. He peers at your hot chocolate, then Remus’. “Oi, you didn’t get any for us?” 

“Interesting,” Remus goes on, ignoring the question, “because we’ve been in here for nearly fifteen.” 

Sirius blinks, and James cocks his head. “Really?” James asks. 

You nudge Remus’ leg playfully under the table. “No,” you tell them, rolling your eyes. “We just wanted to see how long it would take you guys to notice we weren’t behind you.” 

“You could stand to be a little more considerate,” Remus says primly, sipping his hot chocolate. 

“Aw, baby.” Sirius nestles his freezing nose into your cheek, grinning when you squirm away. “Did those little legs of yours separate us?” 

You roll your eyes, but once again Remus comes to your defense. “Their legs aren’t the problem, yours are. Until you two can learn to be considerate of the less…height privileged” —he pretends not to see the aghast look you send him, and goes on with faux dispassion— “there will be no hot chocolate for either of you.” 

Sirius scoffs, but James is nodding slowly, seeming to mull things over. “Sounds fair,” he says. “However, have you considered that we could simply purchase our own hot chocolate?” 

“Not,” says Remus, “on ethical grounds.” 

James pulls his hands kindly from Remus’ grasp, giving him an almost consoling pat on the shoulder. “C’mon, Pads, let’s go order.” Sirius hops up, and James stops by your chair on his way past to drop a kiss on your head. “We’ll try to keep to your speed from now on, lovie. Sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you say, having forgiven them long before they even knew they wanted to be forgiven. 

“Honestly, who should you really be mad at?” Sirius gives you a conspiratorial look. “Your knight in shining armor over there just called you ‘the less height privileged.’” 

“Don’t let him turn us against each other,” Remus says, reaching across the table to clasp your hand firmly. “It’s how he gets his way.” 

“I know,” you stage-whisper back. Then to Sirius, “Go get your hot chocolate, and I’ll decide who I’m mad at depending on whether there’s a slice of pumpkin bread with you when you come back.” 

He scurries towards the counter.

[jewish-vents]

Being Hmong American and Jewish is exhausting. My family had to flee to the US because of what the US did to Vietnam, my parents witnessed atrocities committed by US soldiers, and the only people who showed them any kindness here? The local Jewish community. That's why they converted. They wanted to join these people whose ethos was love and kindness, who saw them as illiterate immigrants and whose first instinct was to help. Now people try to tell me I'm a colonizer and genocidal and I stand there thinking, "Your parents' generation bombed, raped, and murdered my extended family. I don't blame the whole generation for it and definitely not the whole US. Why is it acceptable to blame my family for things we never did?"

I don't trust goyim who say that they only hate zionist Jews. Not just because they don't know what that word means, but also because I see how they treat my parents. I see them act like two people who lived below the poverty line for 90% of their lives, who learned to read in their 20's, who barely survived in this world, are colonizers and racist and bigots. I see people who say they don't hate all Jews hurl profanity at them when they wear their Magen Davids. I see the way people radically alter their treatment of them once they know my parents are Jewish, the fixed, too-steady smiles and tensed shoulders, the side-eyeing, the questions about income. And a part of me wants to tell them this is what they get for being xenophobic and hateful - if these same white goyim had accepted my parents, my parents wouldn't have found a home in Judaism. If they didn't want there to be Hmong Jews, they should have made Christianity look appealing instead of hypocritical.

It's not the hate that bothers me, deep down. It's the hypocrisy. It's the way people don't even flinch when they blame me for things Israel did when their country razed my parents' village to the ground. Hmong and Jews have a very major thing in common, which is long memory. We remember the Vietnam War. We remember the Holocaust. We're both still waiting for an apology we know isn't coming, and we've both given up on the thought of the rest of the world learning from what happened.

.

[nadiajustbe]

Underrated HMC moments I've never seen anyone talking about part 2

Howl choosing "H. Jenkins" for the shop's sign wich is the one and only moment in the series he actually uses his legal initials, as "H" can stand for "Howl" and "Howell" in the same time

Lettie being so angry about Prince Justin calling her "a sweet lady" that she said that she would prefer ever Howl over him. Wich is. Telling.

The King assuring that he never pushed Justin off and that everyone who knows them both wouldn't assume that.

Sophie being so RAGED with the whole weedkiller and daffodils situation she wasn't saying A SINGLE FULL WORD for about a page in the least. All of the sounds were like "argh!" and "Sophie gave the wordless glump of range"

The seven-league boots having the funniest description of use ever, as every time someone used it then the effects were simply narrated as "Zip!"

Howl raises the skull and quotes Hamlet directly to it, wich becomes a hundred times funnier when you remember that this Skull is canonically and ironically the only "person" in the room who can understand the reference.

Howl saying "Denmark" in the same sentence. And, again, they're in a fairly tale fantasy word. Sophie has absolutely no clue what to hell is Denmark. For Howl this is the basic knowledge of elementary school level.

Poor Percival being almost KILLED for transforming in the middle of a valley because people thought he's a WEREWOLF.

Poor Percival being STROKED with information of him being made of part of two other people right after experiencing heavy trauma, beheading, physical damages, not really well-planed adopting and moving a house.

Percival describing laying on the shelf and looking at the other parts of himself. What a lovely kids book.

Sophie accidentally making cayenne pepper magical. She would make a great seller-witch career because she doesn't need to know the spell in order to make. She takes random powder. She says it will do the duel fair. It makes the duel fare by making an opponent sneezing uncontrollable (wich is also just a way cayenne pepper affects people lmao)

Sophie's first thoughts after she heard that Howl is leaving the black door knob where it is being "Of course! There's miss. Angorian!'. Sophie, dear, he has a family out there.

Michael, apparently, hiding the money under the same brick Sophie will soon describe in CITA as "the brick where we're hiding money from Howl"

Miss Angorian and Howl acting like the spell in a modern Wales is the most normal thing ever. "That's a spell!!" "Oh yeah of course I suspected that"

“Didn’t know I used to fly up the wing for my university, did you, Mrs. Nose?” “If you were trying to fly, you must have forgotten how,” aka Sophie absolutely not understanding modern world sport terminology

Drunk Howell trying to get through the door MULTIPLE times, bumping on it before "discovering" the door

Calcifer "taking" that huge mention they lived (and almost never visited) in without buying it. It was literally said the owner is just Not Here.

Sophie loosing an acces to her own room. Wich must be really sad.

Witch of the Waste leaning on a swing when literally capturing Howl's family

Additionaly: Howl canonically NOT altering his clothes while rushing to save his family. He was running around in a long-sleeved medieval closes on a welsh playground

Sophie and miss Angorian having a whole fight over the guitar pulling it back and forward while it was making horrible sounds

Sophie literally pushing miss. Angorian off the house using the said guitar

Howl immediatly reacting when someone mentioned that the star Michael tried to catch looks sad.

Scarecrow literally running around with parts of Justin's body on its sticky shoulders for eighty percent of the book's finale

Howl saying he could be "the evil fairy at his own christening" which is probably a reference to the "Sleeping Beaty". Also. rises a question: did Howl HAD a christening. There's a huge chance he actually did.

Ben and Justin just. smiling at each other for enough amount of time for Sophie's narrative to say "If she had paid any attention she would see them". Am I interuppting something???

Lettie hating Howl's courting SO MUCH she asked Percival to bite him several times.

Additionally: Ben apologising to Howl for trying to bite him. That's also probably first time they're interacting

Howl ignoring all of it because sOPHIE HATTER