#a lot of my stories feature towers

[magpies-gold]

I was raised a PC Gamer in the early 90's when everyone else I knew played console games, and my reflexes are terrible, so I gravitated to some unusual titles. “Most important”, to me, means the ones that influenced some aspect of my style/world-building/aesthetics or that followed me into my adult years. So, in no particular order: * Loom Baby’s first narrative puzzle game. I was five or six and there was fanart happening in Crayola crayons. Swan Lake is not Swan Lake to me. It’s the Loom soundtrack. I still want my own lights and sound distaff. Gonna pick @timmcosplay’s genius prop-making brain and make it happen someday. * Riven Parts of the world in Riven heavily influenced how I designed Tieke City especially, but also a lot of my fantasy-leaning aesthetics in general. Ugh why is this game so beautiful! * Shivers/Shivers 2 I’m packaging these two as one because to me, they’re a unit. This is where we can tell very clearly that I’m not curating. The sequel, especially, is not a good game. Not at all. Avoid! It’s honestly got some heavy issues with racism (big yikes), the ending is just.... stupid, just plain very, very stupid, and both have acting that is made entirely of the worst cheese. But something about the atmosphere in these games gets to me. Spooky empty museum, spooky empty desert town. Moody abandoned public spaces, especially with the weirdly vibrant colour palettes - I can’t pretend that something didn’t follow me into adulthood from these two. * Chronomaster Reboot era graphics, a story by Roger Zelazny, straight out of the dustiest of old-school science fiction novels, and Ron Perlman! Also Brent Spiner. I played this to the point of obsession at the time and I even have the one spin-off novel that was published. I could swear I held a sequel to said spin-off in my hands in a bookstore in Vancouver once, but the internet tells me that the book I’m remembering doesn’t exist. That haunts me a bit. My desktop computer has been traditionally named Milo, after Brent’s character, ever since it was a beige Windows XP machine. Also I hate Verdry. It haunts my nightmares. * Unreal I am still very, very angry at Epic for delisting the single player game for no dang good reason last year. It’s my favourite shooter. Ugly by today’s graphical standards, certainly. but it was striving for a level of beauty that blew me away in 1998. I loved all the details they put in, and I’d put hundreds of hours into exploring every single nook and cranny available and reading every tidbit of data that I could find - like how there’s a standalone (and rather tragic) story to follow if you explore Bluff Eversmoking super thoroughly with your translator.  Every few years I still get a hankering to fire this up and run around in it. Thankfully I bought it off GOG before it got trash-binned by its parent company. 

Need for Speed Underground, Midnight Club 2, Mercenaries: World in Flames, Black, Quake II.

Honorable Mentions: Mech Warrior, Doom !&II. 

[tonycries]

Madam Kamo - C.K.

Synopsis. Bréeding kínk? Going feraI? What the hell is that? Maybe your sweet clan leader husband knows the answer…

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Choso, arranged marriage, mentions of heirs, he’s a little ínsane, elders are awful, MARATHONS, he goes FÉRAL, BRÉEDING, creampíes, a lot of cúmplay, semi-public, dóm Choso, oraI (fem rec), cervíx kíssing, making it fit, bulges, cúmflations, matíng presses, dúmbification, overstím, making him CRY, p talking, spítting, HEADLOCKS, slight 5 + 1 things, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.3k

A/N. CLAN LEADER CHOSO CLAN LEADER CHOSO

Choso Kamo - firstborn son of the ancient Kamo clan, more of a myth than a man.

Those who attended the sprawling Kamo Estate never dared utter a word about him; and those who didn’t, well, he was all that they could talk about.

He left no evidence, he left no remorse. 

Only rumors of a silent, stoic leader who could slaughter four entirely different clans before he let even a singular whisper of it spread amongst the masses. Ones of pretty mahogany eyes, and a silver bow and arrows that hit the target of your very soul - so fluid it was as if he’d forged the weapon with his own blood. 

And then there were the other rumors - more gossip than anything, really. Spread throughout every nook and cranny of stuffy social functions about how the deadly Kamo clan leader had another, secretive side. A softer side.

But, of course, rumors were rumors. Choso Kamo was simply an enigma.

And…your new husband.

“Zoning out, hm?” A hot gust of breath sends shivers sprinting down your spine, and in an instant you’re snapping your eyes to latch onto deep, hazel ones. Choso’s. The edge of his plump lips curl slightly upwards, “My apologies, this wedding reception is quite droning, isn’t it?”

Hastily breathing, “N-no! Of course not, I…” You’re wincing when yet another wizened elder saunters up to the raised platform of your table. Probably the hundredth of the night. “-yeah, maybe a bit.”

Choso stifles out a rumbling bout of chuckles as he catches your gaze, so close now that his pearly white teeth almost nick your sensitive earlobe. “Let me take care of this, my wife.”

And when Choso shifts over to nod curtly at your oncoming guest, you couldn’t help but appreciate how beautiful he is. All tall, towering lines of lean muscle, his silken black yukata wafting of heady cologne, and delicate features that made him have almost as many admirers as he did foes. 

Or, at least, delicate features that were currently twisted into something hardened. Something exactly like clan leader Kamo of all the stories. 

He’s tilting his head up, long lashes narrowed, “Elder Tanaka, a pleasure.”

“No no! The pleasure’s all mine.” The older man slurs drunkenly, and despite the way his words were just dripping with saccharine sweet politeness, years of suffering through these exact interactions had made it easy for you to spot faux niceties. Like right now. “Or should I say- the new madam’s. You must be glad to marry into a clan as esteemed as the Kamo’s.”

The plastic smile that smears all over your face is painful, and you’re biting your tongue before it betrays you. “Yes, of c-”

“My apologies for cutting in, madam.” You’re startling - but you don’t know whether it’s because of the softened fingerpads that intertwine around yours, or the utter fire curdling in Choso’s eyes. “But I must say, I am the lucky one here.”

Oh.

Elder Tanaka is more impressive than you thought - his mask of respect barely even cracks, other than the jerky twitch of one eye. Honestly, you don’t think he’s ever heard Choso speak this much ever before. Quickly gathering his bearings, “Ah- ah, of course, master Kamo! Correct as always!”

Fuck- you can’t hold back the way you roll your eyes, only remembering yourself when Choso’s engulfing hands loosen from your own to give your thigh a warm squeeze. 

“You have wedded quite the catch, of course of course.” Your unwelcome company finally, finally looks at you properly. A sneer coating his slow blinking, “I-I simply meant that considering the master’s incredible power, wealth, and options, what she brings to the table-”

“-is herself.” Choso finishes off monotonically. “And that’s all I need.”

Choso’s words were husky, his grip on you tight. And you wonder if he even realized just how hard he was clutching onto your heated skin - mountains of his palm dragging a smooth up n’ down your clothed leg.

You knew he was well-hidden underneath the lacy tablecloth, you knew that not a single elder, family member, or friend bustling about your wedding reception could see that particular touch over the dim yolky lighting. 

But something about it just made you feel hot. 

It takes you a few fuzzy seconds to realize that Elder Tanaka was still speaking - in fact, he’d even summoned over a few more members of the council to encircle your decadent table. All the more voices speaking at you rather than to you.

“-that’s what I was saying-” You’re catching croaked-out snatches of conversation, warily eyeing the way the men clap each other supportively on their backs.“-it’s about the right time don’t you think?”

Another one nods, “Jin has been waiting for so long, after all-”

“-yes yes, to have an heir-”

Oh.

That’s what had Choso’s high cheekbones currently dusted with a faintly blossoming rose pink. That’s what had his thickened digits dipping past your luxurious evening yukata to rover between your thighs higher, and higher- like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. 

Like he was yearning for it.

“The Kamo clan shall have an heir.” You’re interrupting their ramblings, the mere sound of your voice enough to make Choso’s fingertips twitch. Smooth skin prickling with heaps of goosebumps already when you lock eyes right with his. “As soon as my husband is ready, right?”

And Choso Kamo was brought up with the most rigorous of training, raised to never show even the barest flicker of emotion - especially one where he’s caught off guard.

But right now he knows that he looks as stunned as he feels.

Coral pink maw falling into a soft oh! dark whirlpools of his eyes glinting with something so utterly raw. The trembling tips of his fingers lurch up just the barest inch to drag a lazy line down your pussymound. 

He’s instantaneously shifting his free hand up in one, fluid motion to cover the feverishly flushed half of his face. Jaw clenching with a sharp click! of his teeth when he swipes the fat pad of his thumb down a fresh bead of your leaking slick, making such a flimsy mess of your drenched panties. Was this all for him?

Because now Choso’s getting…greedy.

And you’re almost letting off a slight whimper when he hastily drags his scouring hand away - that is, before every and any sound dies in your throat once your husband dips his wetted thumb past his lips and sucks. 

Subtly. 

And his voice cracks oh-so-pathetically, “R-right.”

Eyes staring deeply into yours when he parts his doughy fingertips mere millimeters to lather it with a fat wad of saliva. Your breath hitches in your chest, frantically glancing at the babbling group of men who were, thankfully, way too absorbed in themselves to notice your little…tryst.

And it’s only with all his years as a seasoned fighter that Choso’s nuzzling his soaked digits back between your jittery thighs. In a flash.

Planting exactly three soppy smack! smack! smacks! plapped onto the perfect arch of your drooling pussy. Choso’s raising his neat brows at just how those tremors make you squirm in your seat.

“Ch-Cho—so-” You’re gasping under your breath, hips repeatedly shuffling on your cushiony chair when he licks up repeated, sultry circles- no, wait, hearts along the slippery slit of your covered cunt. Up and down. “Th-they might see…”

“Shhh, don’t want them to hear, baby.” He’s leaning in to pant out a murked cloud against your ear, throat bobbing with a ravenous swallow of saliva as he then probes a few stuffy fingers under your panties. “You seem stressed– Let me take care of it.”

Oh, it was a promise - and the rasping growl that bled into Choso’s tone told you that he was well and fully intent on accomplishing his little task. “Spread those pretty legs now.”

With a steady, muscular calf hooked with your own, he’s cracking your thighs evermore parted. The scorching hot press of his big, beefy forearm over your shoulders making you feel as if you’re on the verge of melting. Practically on his lap now-

“Is everything alright, master–?” You’re hearing from what sounds like somewhere over in the distance, even though you already know that it’s from right in front of you.

“Everything is quite alright.” Choso’s plush pecs vibrate with his rapid answer, and you’re finding yourself leaning your weight onto his. Huffing and puffing near the crook of his neck, “It seems the madam is just feeling a little ah…tired, right now. Continue your talk, elders.”

Tired - you couldn’t feel more riled up if you even tried.

“Ngh- Choso-” You’re sinking your teeth into your wobbly lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. High, carved chair singing off a slight creak! when you’re bucking your hips up to jostle his gluttonous fingers closer to where you wanted him the most. “-need you.”

Well, whatever his wife wanted - you got. 

In simple nanoseconds, Choso’s snugly prying away your gauzy lace. Letting the too-thin fabric snap back against your sappy cunt with a teasing little swat!

Before you can blink, he’s gracing your panties with microscopic tears at just how eager he was to give your plump, buttony clit a good, hard push. Cold golden wedding ring perking up against your most tender spots. Flexible wrists bending towards an even vulgarly deep angle to keep you from escaping-

And you think you could scream, you think you could open your mouth to make a scene - before Choso beats you to it. Purring out an oblivious, “Is everything alright, my wife? You seem a little feverish.”

All the while slipping n’ sliding his fingerpads to smear your gluey pussylips open. Mazing down, down, down in a lecherous little pace to plug up your geysering entrance snugly full with two of his fattened digits. 

You’re clutching helplessly onto Choso’s thick yukata sleeve when the elders stare over at you curiously, “I-I’m fine, Ch- my husband. Just a few post-wedding jitters.”

“Awww, that’s alright.” He’s cooing from above you, words sugarcoated with such gentleness - but his hands were anything but. “M’here, m’here.” Setting out a vicious, ceaseless pace that has his manly fingers outlining numerous circles round n’ round your tight, flooding entrance. Motioning in slight, sleazy swirls all around your elastic hole just to fit inside properly. “Your dear Choso’s here, y’know? And I’ll take such good care of you.”

“Ah! Of course-” Ring out the replies, evidently your hurried-out shudders were not enough for your guests to lose interest. Or for Choso, either - because he’s just feeding your slobbering orifice with more fat inches upon grinding inches. “-producing an heir is a very integral part of the marriage contract. It’s understandable to be nervous.”

Shivering, “S-sure.”

“Mhm—” Choso’s trawling his pouted mouth down your perspiration-simmered temple, “-a very integral part. But, of course, we’ve got to make sure that my beloved wife is-” Quirking the very edge of his digits to clash right into the target of your g-spot. “-ready, after all.”

The clingy embrace of your warm cunt so cozy that it’s bumping Choso’s metallic ring further and further from his hilled knuckles to dredge out a chilling, languid massage along your channel. 

It takes everything in you to manage up a half-heartedly narrowed glare up at your chatting husband, easily conversing his way through every battering ram being placed on your pretty pussy. 

He doesn’t make a sign - he doesn’t even make a noise. Nothing except for a sharp, sudden inhale once another innocent peck at your lips makes your filthy hole fountain out a fresh lather of sickly sweet juices. 

Dripping all the way down to his wrist with thickly viscous adhesive, he’s making such a fucking mess. And a loud one, too. 

Slurp after slurp being wrenched out with every pound of his neatly cut nails patterning out little indents onto your most favorite spots - ones that have your legs shaking underneath the humid table. Choso’s bouncing his knee to drum out a staccato against the floor, just to cover up your cute little melody.

He has you going insane.

You’re pushing apart your legs to dig into either side of your chair with just how desperate you were for him. For more more more.

Bumping your thigh against one of his, and the mere touch is enough to send shockwaves down Choso’s sloped body. 

“Trying to tease me, baby?” He’s hovering over you even closer, darting out a hefty thud! of two fingertips- no, three - when did he even bully in another one - onto the goopy roof of your cunt. 

“M’not-” You’re biting out, head lolling ever-so-slightly backwards when Choso furrows his brows and pumps out copious thrusts that hit your forbidden g-spot dead on. Engulfed so deeply inside your hot core that the gentle curves of his palm smudge against your clit now. “J-just keep- talking.”

And, truly, it wasn’t just because your company was peering over the two of you expectantly - it was because Choso sounded so very hot. 

Vibrato husky with an animalistic sort of need, tremoring ever-so-slightly-

“Agreed, I would like a few sons and daughters.” Choso’s nodding along smoothly, although his full attention is focused on you. His wife. And the way your sweltering hot gummy walls clench around his bludgeoning fingers even tighter at the words. Faster. “Maybe three. Maybe five. Although, it’s up to the madam.”

In the corner of your eye, you’re catching them all staring at you, and you urgently force out a nod.

“C’mon now, answer them using your words like a big girl, why don’t you–?” He’s humming, tilting your burning face up. Faster. So that you can’t hide.

Lilting shrill just as unbalanced as your head was, “Y-yes-”

But of course, that wasn’t enough - that would never be enough. “Louder. They can’t hear you over the music, baby.”

Can’t do anything but claw down drawings of red, red lines all across Choso’s milky arms when he bustles into the targets of your honeyed spots even harder. Unsteady syllables spilling out from your lip before you can even register them, “Yes- yes. As…many as possible.”

“That’s it- good girl.”

Fuck. 

And those raked scratches make perfect artwork for him to admire - just as he was admiring you right now. 

It was just such a shame that the others here were, too, even if they didn’t know the complete and utter sin happening just underneath the table cloth. Sloppier. 

Choso’s kissing his teeth, broad deltoids of his shoulder positioning to hide you away from any sleazy gazes. Because they could be near, but they couldn’t see. You were his.

“Then, it’s settled-” He’s drawling, hooded eyes locked onto you. Memorizing your every minute twitch and reaction when he urges his free hand to hold onto yours on your lap. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like to the outside. In fact, Choso’s snugly prying apart your silken robes to roll over your throbbing clit and pinch. “-we can look forward to an heir, soon. Right, madam?”

And that’s all it takes for you to cum.

Your head tucking into his sculptured shoulder, thighs closing with a dull clap! as your high crashes into you headfirst. You don’t need to mutter a single sentence for Choso to know.

For his eyes to widen just a fraction at the way your treacly slit only got infinitely dewier, rounded gumdrops of your slick sprinkling down in a weepy sheen all over his messy hands. Mouth going parched at the realization that you’re orgasming right here, right now. 

“O-oh? Seems my wife agrees.” Choso’s waving those elders away now, not taking his eyes off of you for a single second. It was just too adorable how you were shaking like a leaf at his side, “Well, m’glad. So- so…glad.”

Motioning your hips in such salacious semi-circles to bump up his upright fingers against your every extra sweet orifice.

Your sticky walls were so staggeringly tightly wrapped around him that it’s making his forehead bead with sweat, low puffs of air escaping with every peak he fucks you through. Every peak of white-hot pleasure that he draaags out until your guests are finally - finally - walking back to their own tables. 

“Sh-shit-” you’re mewling when Choso barely hesitates - barely even takes a quick sweep around the room to check who might be looking - before parting from your sappy cunt with a resounding squelch!

Immediately popping those viscously-glazed fingerpads into his starved mouth, he’s letting his glassy eyes sprint to the back of his head. Musing out a moan, “Fuck- fuck!”

You can only watch with an awed gape whilst Choso stares right into your heart-shaped pupils as he cleans himself off. One by one. Before trekking his lustrous fingers back over to your cunt, and measuring out a wide few inches - perhaps nine - from the base of your teary entrance up to your tummy.

“Choso…” you’re whispering, hazy eyes blinking up at him as if through molasses. “Wha’s that for?”

And Choso only grins, stray range of knuckles thoroughly bitten underneath his gleaming canines while he measures you up. 

As if he was holding back. Keeping himself sane. And the half-lided greed in Choso’s eyes told you that he’d fuck you all proper right here and right now if he could. “N-nothing- just making sure of somethin’, my wife. Making sure that you can take me.”

Oh. 

This was far from over. You were fucked. 

And you were completely and utterly sure of it even if the topic of an…heir didn’t come up for the next few days after that. 

Not that you didn’t think about it, though - it was hard not to, when your fatally notorious husband showed such a tender side of himself with his younger brothers. 

With you.

And soon enough even through all the bustling meetings and duties of a madam, you’re still figuring out a way to tell Choso that you really weren’t kidding about what you said during that wedding reception.

Sure, you were drunk on his fingers but - that wasn’t just all, was it?

But you’d sorely underestimated just how busy a clan leader could get. And before you knew it, putting off the conversation for the morning after your wedding night had turned into putting it off for the weekend. 

Then putting it off for next week. Two weeks. 

All the way until you’re trudging along the winding corridors of the Kamo Estate during the most unholy hours of the night. Grumbling groggily to yourself about how you’d finally told him and it had ended supremely well - in a dream, that is.

Choso had been absent for almost the entire day today, attending an important land negotiation with a far-off clan, according to Jin. 

Now, you knew just how powerful your husband was - it was impossible to escape the legends and rumors, in fact - and you trusted him. Still, you couldn’t help but toss and turn the entire night away in your coldly empty bed as you wondered just how safe he would get home.

You’d been to such veiled conferences before, after all. 

And it’s simply pure worry that has you dragging yourself out of your king-sized bed to shuffle into the barely-lit kitchen. Stifling half-blindly in the moonlight through cabinets and coolers to find ah! Exactly what you’ve been looking for. 

Thank goodness this place was empty right now, you didn’t know if you could handle it if the chef was here to lecture you about balanced diets when you’re bites deep into your sugary, shaved icing.

And it’s exactly with this thought in mind that you hear a loud thud! emanating from the far end of the hallway. Your eyes widen, ears searching for more-

Footsteps. 

At this time? Your fingers itch towards the sparkling display of knives tucked in one corner of the granite counter. Ready to aim for that tall approaching shadow, ready to fling just as Choso had taught you when-

“Baby?”

“Oh–” Your breath comes out in a heavy gust of relief, eyes unable to tear away from the shaded outline of your husband, taking up every inch of the doorway. “It’s just you, Cho.”

It was. But there was something about Choso that seemed…different. Off. 

But not in a bad way - your eyes rover appreciatively over the tautly flexed muscles of his upper half, peeking out almost-blasphemously where he’d shrugged the upper half of his deep purple yukata off. 

Glinting bow and arrow stained with crimson, held in one tightly-gripped hand. Your nose wrinkles at the slight, dangerous scent of something metallic. Something not his. 

Yet, you can’t help but ogle the slow path of dewdropped sweat trailing down between the curvaceous bulge of his heaving pecs, bumping up and down over his washboard abs, before disappearing below-

It’s like you’re being bolted with an instant flash of lightning as soon as this happens, snapping your eyes over to find Choso’s weighty ones. And oh- the moment you do it’s like something in him melts. 

THUD!

You’re jumping when his weapons hit the floor - uncaring of whether this might alert anyone else in the household, uncaring of anything other than crossing the sizzling distance between the two of you in three urgent strides. 

You don’t even have the time to process it before Choso halts right before you and falls to his knees. Dark lashes fluttering up at you, he echoes, “Baby.”

Like a broken little mantra. 

“Ch-Choso- baby-” It’s just about the only thing you can manage out through hollowed gasps when he’s immediately digging two hands on either side of your hips to easily and pliably seat you on the icy counter. Just where he wanted. “-what’s gotten into you?”

“Dunno.” He’s garbling out, and you’re letting your boneless legs tumble further and further open to let him bury his face right at his favorite place - into your fluttering cunt. “Was jus’ thinking about you alllll day.”

And you could tell.

Because Choso’s every movement was depraved. Jerky. His sensory fingertips trembling when they card underneath your cottony sleep garments, bringing it up to his canines to rip–!

All with his mouth.

“Fuh-fuck-” You’re squealing at the sudden hit of cold air - followed very closely by a scorching hot breeze overtaking every inch of your cunt when Choso leans in and sniffs. Long, hard. Curdling out a feral keen at the back of his throat, “-that’s so filthy, baby.”

“Nothing’s filthy for me if s’you, madam.” At the glint of something slobbering and sharp, you can tell that he’s grinning. “If s’you or…her.”

He was enamored with your ready core, curving a gentle thumb down the glossy edges to give your driveling hole a good trickle of spittle. 

And Choso Kamo knew he had perfect aim - he knew he didn’t have to make a mess. 

But oh, he couldn’t keep himself from tilting his head just degrees to the side to let the splatters leave dripping wet splotches down your saturated folds, your inner thighs. 

Tongue so long, lolling out drunkenly to smear away that filthy excess. He’s poking heated ounces again and again back into your soppy entrance. You were practically flooding torrents of sweet, sweet juices around him, already making a mess that lacquers his dimpled chin. 

You were always so sweet - so good for him. And he can feel his ears pop already with the greedy anticipation of what he was craving to do. 

“Think you missed me, too.” He’s snickering, teeth sinking down onto the fleshy nub of your clit. It’s enough to make you want to sob. “Didn’t ya?”

Gyrating your hips in such hypnotizing little swivels off of the smooth counter, you’re feeling his candied breaths hit your gummy walls even deeper. Sloppier. Whimpering out, “Yes- yes. Missed you so badly, Cho–”

“Oh yeah?” He’s tensing up the dexterous edge of his tongue to swipe up unhurried skids of his roughened tastebuds around and around your quivering entrance. In and out. Syrupy slick leaking in heaps right as he does, Choso tilts his head back to let those gooey masses slide down his throat. “Mmm— you’re wetter than usual, baby. How badly do you want the ngh- clan leader on his knees for you, hm?”

It was true - and Choso can feel something coiling and coiling heatedly at the base of his stomach at the idea of giving you perhaps…a kid…or two to make sure you’re not so lonely anymore. 

Ah, he was pussydrunk. 

“So- too badly.” You don’t think you’d ever be babbling away like this if Choso wasn’t making out with your needy cunt like that. 

You’re tangling your fingers hastily into his dark, silken locks - gripping desperately onto his sweat-dampened scalp as you use up all your strength and push. All the way until the very tip of Choso’s button nose was meeting your pulsing clit in a harsh smooch, his chin smacking the teary ends of your cunt.

Words tremoring against the very outer ring of your puffy pussy, silvery strings of saliva n’ sap break off when Choso mutters, “Was talkin’ to her, y’know?”

Fuck. 

And you think you would be huffing and puffing about how he was talking with your dousingly wet cunt instead of you. 

That is, if you weren’t talking back to him from between your legs. 

Because the only thing louder than the slack-jawed ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips with every repeated thrust of Choso’s tongue, was the sound of your soppy squelches. “Ohhh- so that’s how your day was? Tell me more…”

So loud - so embarrassing that you can feel your heart race.

And Choso’s was, too, but for a much more lecherous reason as his tongue clashes even harder to draw out those very same pretty noises from you. He was craning his ears closer - he was addicted. 

“Yeah-  yeah, tha’s right.” Choso’s groaning, eyes faltering droopily until they were almost shut at the way his husking growls only make you wetter. Well, he could help with that. Hitting your hot core with wad after weighty wad of even more sugary spit. “Thaaaat’s fuckin’ right, missed how mouthy you hah- are. My talkative girl.”

“Cho- ngh!” You’re biting down on your tongue to hold back your words when Choso raises up a hand to leave a solid spank right on your bloated pussymound. 

He’s nodding along, head lurching intoxicatedly ever closer and closer. Wiping away a glistening streak of slick painted over his blushing cheeks - his blushing cheeks. “That’s right- would’ve made a- haaaah- a whole lotta b-better points than that stupid council does.”

Before pecking a lingering French kiss on your throbbing clit like a lover would. 

And you count one, two, three- partway through four before Choso seems to remember that he’s still in the middle of his conversation with your cute cunt. It’s rude to leave her hanging, he’s pondering.

“Well-” Stringing himself away with such a pained grunt, cerise lower lip plumping out in a pout at the mere thought of being away from you. “-better points than that stupid council d-did. They won’t be making aaaaany comments ‘bout you anymore, madam.”

Your leaden eyelids struggle to flitter open, “Wh-what do you ngh- mean, baby?”

But the only response you get is a quick staccato of swats at your leaky slit, before Choso’s curling in a thick thumb past your watering lips and in to your slicked entrance. Followed by the delicious drag of his lengthy tongue doubly slipping back inside.

Thrust after thrust. 

So extensive that he was skimming across all your ridges, mapping out every sweet spot of yours on his mouth. Your adhesive walls were clinging onto him like a vice, sappy mushes making him pry apart your thighs even more through furrowed brows. 

“Jus’- just means-” He can’t even bear to speak. To break off from stretching you staggeringly open. Your legs wrap mindlessly around Choso’s ravenous head, “-means I don’t let anyone- hah- say anythin’ about my wife.” 

Without a second thought, your eyes find his splayed-out arrows on the floor. The way they were sullied with red…

Oh. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything other than let your head jerk backwards, muffing out slight whimpers when he alternates in such sloppy measures between swirling the fattened expanse of his tongue all over every possible spot of your gummy walls and sucking on your clit like his favorite candy.

“They won’t say- do- anythin’—” In so deep now that all you could make out were numerous wet gurgles. And the pure, unadulterated love in Choso’s tone when he twists his thumb to graze right against your bruised and battered g-spot. Hard. “Not when I love her so much.”

He’s gonna raise your kids to love you just as damn much.

And when you cum, you think you might be sobbing - you’re shaking. 

Flurries of stars bursting behind your eyes as you dig your fingers through your husband’s perspired strands. Keening out, “Fuck- m’cumming- m’cumming–”

“I know I know.” He smirks hotly against your puffy pussy lips, so close that you could feel the cratered dimple of his grin. “Yer cute cunt told me, baby– heh- wouldn’t mind being welcomed ah- home by my wife like this every day.”

He lets himself be manhandled, pulled and pushed to your every whim. One of the strongest clan leaders whimpering - whimpering - when you pull just a bit too hard to mash his cushiony mouth in a deeper kiss. 

Hot. Sappy. 

You’re still shaking with sparking bouts of heat that rush down and up your spine, legs twitching when Choso pulls away with a loudly kissed mwah! Overly exaggerated just to see that shy, fucked-out expression on your face. 

He was so unfairly pretty like this - a delicate red blush burning all over his face, eyes half-lidded like he was feverish. A shimmery spray of your juiced slick drips down his chin, his bruised lips, all the way up to his regal cheekbones. 

He made a mess. And he was wearing it like a badge of honor.

Rising up, up, up to shutter your ajar jaw and plant a drenching kiss. Choso always left your mind so melty and stupid no matter what he did. 

“Do you…do you want some hngh- sh-shaved ice?” You’re babbling with your cottony tongue, unsure of what exactly to say after something as intense as…that. 

“Nah-” One kiss. Another Two. Five. “-I jus’ had something a whooole lot sweeter, madam.”

Right now it was so quiet in your kitchen. Just you, Choso, and the gleaming moonlight illuminating his pussydrunken enchantment. Even more so than usual. 

You’re glissading your arms around his sweat-matted neck, reeling him in even closer. He smells so good, piney cologne searing your senses even despite that tint of iron. Nervously musing, “Hmmm, wonder if s’always gonna be like hah- this whenever I get…cravings.”

Well- it wasn’t exactly what you wanted to say, but, better than nothing.

“Cravings, huh?” Choso’s eyes twinkle - and you’re not sure if that’s a result of the muted lighting or because of what you just said. Hopefully the latter. 

“Well- well just saying I wouldn’t mind if-”

Cutting yourself off, you’re sure it’s the latter when he rests a massive palm, warm against your tummy. Just for a split-second before tucking his big, strong arms underneath your body and propping you in an easy princess carry. “If you have cravings then I’d be the one cooking for ya, my wife. 24/7, at your feet.”

Yeah, you were fucked. 

But you never really realized just how much - just how badly - until just a few days later; seated on the polished hardwood floor of the famed Kamo archery dojo. 

It was routine for your husband to practice his pinpoint precise shooting, and by now it was your routine to watch him. 

How could you not? Because it was such a heavenly sight.

Choso’s pristine, white yukata unravelled at one muscular shoulder; showing off the rippling curves and dips of his sculptured back. Strong. His honed eyes filmed with a focus he only ever gets in bed. Adonis-like biceps bulging in a lecherous little flex when he draws the string back, back, back and lets go-

“YES!” Yuji’s resounding cheer thunders across the vast chamber with way too much volume than a six-year-old should possibly have. “Let’s goooo- big bwother hit the target again.”

A simpering smile stretches across your lips as soon as he turns to you for reassurance, gesturing out a slow nod at the way Choso keeps piercing bullseye after bullseye. “He did, your brother is very talented, Yuji.”

Humming, “When I grow up m’gonna be just like him.” 

“Of course.” You’re chuckling at his enthusiasm - the youngest of your husband’s brother’s always did have a special spot in your heart. And you can’t help but wonder when - if - you had an heir with Choso, whether they would be much the same. “You are his brother, after all.”

You’re frantically hovering your hands behind him once he bustles to a haphazard stand. Stumbling only a few times as he races over to the neat line of inventory, “Then- I’ll be just like him now.”

“Be careful!”

Ah, he really was a handful - which meant, you really didn’t expect it to go over perfectly smoothly. You’d known that simply wouldn’t have been possible as soon as you met Itadori Yuji. 

Yet, you didn’t expect everything to go so wrong in just a mere matter of seconds. 

Before you can even blink, Yuji’d tottered his way over to one particularly large, wooden bow - one used only by Ryomen Sukuna whenever he visited. Puffing out his chest as he reeled out the massively heavy weapon - overly heavy, way too much for even the most determined child-

CRASH!

“Yuji!” You don’t know who yelps louder - you, or Choso. But with your proximity, you’re the one that reaches him first, cradling the sniffling boy in your arms. 

You jostle away the weighty bow - honestly, how he even managed to lift this in the first place you have no idea. 

“Awww, don’t cry don’t cry–” You’re cooing, distantly registering the worried pants of his older brother skidding to a stop beside you. He always did have him curled around his little finger. Pushing away the pinkish curls from his forehead, “-you’re alright. See? You’re alright.”

“Are you hurt? Are you dizzy? Are you feeling nauseous-”

“Choso.” You warn, catching the way Yuji’s eyes widen in panic. 

Taking a few deeply necessary breaths to calm down. “You- don’t do that-” Choso’s hissing, but you could practically feel the worry seeping into his tone. Thumbing slow circles on his aching shoulders, “-ask me for a bow instead.”

You have to bite back a grin - with the watery glaze taking over his eyes, you wondered who was really hurt - Yuji or Choso himself. 

“M’sorry big bwother.” Blubbering through big, pearly tears that dry salty streaks down his chubby cheeks. He’s batting those lashes in a way you’re sure gets him out of any sort of trouble. Ever. The full, merciless force of it hits your poor heart as Yuji turns to you. “Sorry, mama.”

Mama. 

Mama. 

You freeze. Choso freezes.

Hell, even the twittering birds outside freeze mid-song. 

It seems like everyone in the entire world freezes except for an oblivious Yuji who only continues inching his tiny hands closer towards that guilty bow. Clearly not having learned his lesson - but you didn’t even register that right now. 

You’re staring at Choso, only to find that he’s staring right back. Droopy eyes uncharacteristically wide, blinking rapidly - it didn’t even look like he was breathing right now. 

Maw parting and closing stupidly agape, and you’re almost tempted to reach out and check whether he’s doing okay - before he finally finds his voice again. Finally. Husking out a choked-out, “W-well- maybe we should- ah- should-” He’s turning towards his contrastingly okay younger brother, “Yuji?” 

“Big bwother!” Comes the, unfortunately, helpless answer. 

And something in his beaming expression seems to jolt Choso out of his reverie, something that makes him let out a tight nod. Scooping up the giggling boy over his shoulder, he calls out at you, “Wait here.”

As Choso walks out of the doorway, you could only watch.

Only sit there for what could be four seconds - or maybe even four hundred years - until he’d presumably dropped off Yuji at the safety of Jin. Taking steady, focused strides back to you that thud! thud! thud! right along to the beat of your racing heart.

Choso’s expression is blank - pale as if he’s seen a fucking ghost. And he doesn’t even look at you, can’t even bear to once he walks back to the thickened air of the dojo. Now pointedly alone. 

Very, very alone. 

Wordlessly, he picks up his famed bow. And you swear that you can see his practiced hands tremble. Something was happening. 

It’s like an artwork that you can’t look away from. The fluid motion of aligning a singular arrow to aim for his final, rounded target. Doughy pads of his fingers pinching the string back, back, back until it snaps!

And misses. For the first time in years.

“Fuck.”

You barely have the time to compute - to even suck in a gasp of surprise before your husband comes and crashes into you. It’s as if he was magnetized and couldn’t get away even if he wanted to. 

It’s a frenzy of white billowing sleeves and powerful arms, throwing you over Choso’s shoulder in only two seconds flat - much the same way that he’d done with Yuji moments prior.

Except more…urgent. 

“Choso- Cho!” You’re squealing, as he lurches into hurried treads away. Legs kicking weakly in the air, only for your stubborn self to be granted with an unapologetic spank! right on the mound of your ass. Your nose crinkles as his long, inky locks tickle your face, “What is-”

“Be quiet.” Choso’s rasping, so small that it could not have been more than a whisper. So close that you’re drinking in heady wafts of his masculine cologne. 

Something in his snarling tone makes your stomach tighten. Digits grappling precariously onto the toned curves of his shoulders, your fingertips slide down the sweltering expanse of his exposed skin. 

And only too late do you recognize the familiar pathway towards your shared bed chamber- oh. 

So that was what it was. 

And judging by the dark, primal look swimming in the clan leader’s eyes you could only hope that you made it out alive-

SLAM!

You don’t know what’s forcing you more out of your excited little reverie - the shuddered slam! of your mahogany double doors, so hard that it makes the golden hinges shake, or the way you’re thrown haphazardly on the bed. 

Like some glorified toy. One of Choso’s favorites. 

You’re throwing your arms over his broad shoulders as you fall, lugging him in even closer with each springy bounce on the bedcoils. 

But closer wasn’t close enough for your husband - he’s bullying into every ounce of your personal space, caging you in between two splayed-out palms on either side of your thoroughly spinning head.

“Mama, is it?” Choso starts out. Slow. Thick. Like he was approaching a cornered prey. “Baby, I want…I want it.”

You’re blinking up at him through eager eyes, “Want what, Cho?” 

“I want an heir. I want to make you…” He gulps. The circles of his fingertips were so warm on your skin, trailing down lovingly all across your cheek. Your collarbones, your heaving tits - down to where you predictably flinched as he palmed your tummy. “-a pretty momma.”

Fawny strands of chestnut brown curtain his gaze, but you could tell just how serious he was. Just how greedy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Choso like this in his entire life. 

All you can breathe out is a crackling, “Yes.”

You said it. You finally said it after all these weeks. 

And it’s the only thing you hear before your yukata is all but torn off of you, Choso doesn’t even realize when he’s doing so. It’s melting away like butter underneath his strength, mere obstacles to where the real prize is - your gorgeous, shivering body.

Pebbles of goosebumps rise onto the surface of your flesh when he throws away those useless pieces of fabrics onto the tatami floor - you can have more newly tailored anyway. Many, many more with just how round and full you’re about to be very soon. 

He’d take care of it for you.

“Oh, madam- madam.” He’s spitting into your unfastened mouth, low growls sounding out across each four corners of your room. Held hostage by the arousal in your eyes, he can’t stop staring. “M’gonna ruin you.”

And Choso is feral like never before. 

Usually one to take his time during sex, finetuning you into it like a sultry waltz. His favorite hobby was to drive you mindlessly wild before he even thought of stuffing you full. But now…

Still not breaking his dreamy eye contact with you, Choso hooks a rapidfire finger over the cute bow-tied hem of your panties. Slurring down an oozing little snail trail of slick that laminates your jittery thighs with evidence of just how badly you wanted him. 

You feel the blistering pant of his mindless oh! fanning your features, leaning backwards with a loosened maw to admire just how glistening you are in this lighting. 

How ready.

With a low, fucked-up whimper breaking at the back of his throat, he rubs over the bloated curvature of your needy pussy. Slipping ever-so-slightly at the saturated puddles leaking out, Choso has no hesitation or shame when he tugs his fingerpads into his mouth once. 

Twice. Thrice. 

Dipping back down for more and more and more-

“Can’t-” He’s guttering out, eyes crinkling and- fuck, were those tears? “I c-”

You reach your hand up to smear away his hot rivulets of salt, and Choso stops his prattling like a broken record forced to a halt. He jolts as if your touch has just sent a zillion shocks of voltage down his spine, all the trekking trailway down to his furious, aching cock. 

Unsteady hands flinging apart his snowy robes - barely even bothering to remove them and wrench down his undergarments before you see it. You finally understand why Choso was so…restless.

Because he’s never been harder. 

Fuck being furious, his bawling cock was seething. Equally as red as the ripest of strawberries, the split-ended crown of his cockhead was just as plumply swollen. All proud inches nestled underneath his painfully-clenching breeder balls, ballooned and lush. Only the barest of your gaze is enough to make Choso’s lustrous tip twitch, laminating himself with a freshly dripping glaze of translucent pre. 

Though, it’s not like you were doing any better. 

Your gluey lips pucker and pout up at him once he’s wrangling your legs into a boneless hold. The feeling of his palms underneath your thighs are so soft - even despite his battle-hardened calluses. Worshipping. 

But the way he’s resting your legs on his shoulders, and folding you in half like a whining lawnchair is the complete opposite. Mercilessly into a-

“M-mating press-” Choso’s getting out through strangled breaths, as if the sole words had his poor sanity fraying at the edges. “-mating press- a- a-” Something he’s never tried out before. His head dips down, pearls of sweat simmering across his trembly upper lip as soon as your sticky folds leave a wet snog on his fattened mushroomy tip. Topping it with a generous heap of honeyed sap, “Well, hello there, baby. I have you in a mating press n’ m’gonna…gonna…”

He couldn’t even finish his sentence. 

Couldn’t even finish his thought before Choso was doing - body moving miles and miles ahead of his stupidly saccharine-sweet mind. 

“F-fuuuuck–” You’re letting off the keenest of whines, the edges of your nails leaving neat crescents all over his toned back. It was the perfect little present for the way he had you so split open. 

And he was barely even pushing past the tip. 

“Oh. Oh.” Choso’s grunts are throaty, as if they weren’t coming from the man himself but somewhere murked and dark inside him. And the same went for his feverish thrusts - tight, rigid little pushes past your slicked-up hole just to fit inside. He’s spitting into your slacked mouth, “C’mon- c’mon c’mon–”

Usually, it takes so long to prepare you to take his nine- no, ten inches. But currently, fast just wasn’t fast enough.

There’s a thundering slam! abovehead - only hours and hours later do you have enough brainpower to realize that it was Choso striking his palm down on the headboard - and it makes your clingy walls grip onto the battering mountain of his dewy head. 

Squeezing in a repeatedly adhesive-like tempo, Choso’s nose crinkles at the rubbery resistance of your snug hole. Still molding to the slightest curves and ridges of his drowned slit with every desperate rut-

“Please- take it- fucking take it.” His voice was trembling on the edge of a crack, thickened exactly the way one does when he’s about to cry. “H-how can I fuck! How can I breed ya…if I don’t-”

And you’re swearing you see his ruddied cheeks glisten with a few slipped-off tears - though, that just might be from the way that your own vision mists over when his stray hand plugs up your spilling entrance to pry two thickened, scissoring digits inside and stretch. “Fucking- take that big fuckin’- cock-”

Bullying in a few more long n’ girthy inches- You’re so full that it feels like Choso’s pushing his bloated crownhead against the spongy edges of your lungs. 

The bed dips and moans with frequent soft creaks! when he plants his curved knees firmly further apart. Flexibly so. And you’re getting a good, greedy eyeful of his pale, bulky thighs - angling at the perfect bend to snap his slender hips and jackhammer-

“Sh-shit-” Your head sinks into the cushiony pillows underneath you, and it already feels like you’re in heaven. “-don’t- don’t know if it’ll fit, Cho–”

With a bitten lip, Choso rovers down his sturdy hand from the surface of the bedframe to measure out ten solid inches. Bringing it down much the same way he did during your wedding reception, “Y-you can, baby–”

“But-”

“You will.” He’s gasping, gracing you with a soft brush of his curvaceous mushroomed head along one of your utmost favorite hidden sweet spots. It’s enough to make you buck. “Gonna take my cock, n’ you’re gonna haaah- take my seed ‘ntil you’re bloated. So I’ll make it fit- fuck- watch, I’ll make it fit.” Before you know it, that very same hand finds itself crowning your head, threatening to push you down- “C-can you say hngh- ‘biiiig stretch’ f’me?”

You’re hiccuping out, “B-big stretch?”

“Nuh uh-” By the time that Choso shakes his head, you’re being sprinkled with loose flecks of his sweat. He was in so deep now. “Say it with me- b-biiig stretch, baby–”

“B-biiig- stretch!” It takes you everything in your body to hold your own against the vicious pounds being planted and struggled into your goopy depths. Choso was determined. Frenzied. 

And god, the way you’re dumbly parroting his words is so hot. He can’t help but dollop out muggy icings of pre that slosh and swab at every nook and cranny inside you. 

“Good girl.” Rewarding you with a slow heart being patterned right on the throbbing peak of your clit, the roughened edges of his fingertips rub you just right. Not too hard. Not too soft. Your husband nuzzles his flushed head into the havened crook of your clammy neck, “S-say it again, madam.”

“Biiig-”

Honestly, it’s a wonder you manage to get exactly two syllables out at all. Because soon enough, Choso’s taking your distracted few seconds to lace his fingers onto your scalp push. To bump his hips back until your geysering cunt was struggling around his fat, bulbous tip.

Before stuffing you full all the way in-

“Fuck- no.” Choso’s spitting out venomously against your thrumming pulse, sharp fringes of his teeth digging in animalistically. Bottomed out but still pushing and pushing- Slamming a lazy stripe of luscious precum down your spongy cervix, “No- no no–”

No sooner are you full of all his massive, rummaging length, he’s making you take even more. This time in the form of dribbling, ribbony volumes of cum that leak and leak and won’t stop from his heated divot. 

It’s ballooning up your tight channel even more. Swashing around and sticking to your gummy walls like a treacly lacquer. Filling you to your very brim-

“S-so much.” You’re gaping, through tear-strung lashes. The shivering edges of your fingers subconsciously dance downwards to splotch over the puddling globs of seed tricking from either side of your sloppy slit. Squeezing out even more to coat Choso’s bulky base with creamy rings upon rings. 

And, usually, your husband might be just a bit embarrassed. Usually, he would have pulled out to make out with your pretty pussy until your scores were more than tied.

But that wasn’t your husband right now. 

“Don’t.” Choso clicks his drunkenly heavy tongue, lips pulling back into what almost looks like an oh-so-feral snarl. And you have to admit that it looks so sexy on him. He’s rudely swatting away your curious hand, “Move that fucking hand n’ let me see.”

It takes only a split-second for both your hands to be pinned underneath one of Choso Kamo’s. 

“Tha’s not enough to take.”

And only one more split-second for him to flip you over onto your tummy and stuff your head into the cushy pillows. 

He’s fucking you like he’s using you. Like he’s pumping his mushy, swollen head to nudge in the weighty heft of his cum deeper and deeper and deeper-

“Y’know I hate hngh- disrespectin’ my wife, baby–” He leans over to sigh against your ear in craving hisses, pinning you with his body. His muscles. You could count each n’ every one of Choso’s bulging abs, glissading damply against your perfectly arched spine. Bubblegum pink nipples pressed roughly into your scorching skin, “Hate it- but…”

You gasp at Choso’s audacity next - at the way it makes you so traitorously soaked when he hikes up one of his feet to rest upon your head. 

Gurgling out a stupid. “Ch-Cho–”

But he didn’t seem to hear you - you didn’t know if he was even managing to breathe at this point. Only letting his devious lips twitch up, up, up into such a satisfied grin. “-but ‘ntil I get my hngh- heh…heir, you’re gonna hafta be my cumdump, madam.”

And if the saturated slurps singing out at a near-deafening tone from your dripping pussy said anything - it was that you loved the idea. 

Especially when the changed angle makes his scouring cockhead maze between the most treasured spots of your jelly-like walls to strike numerous, merciless hits dead-set on your g-spot. 

Ah, there it was, pipes up that small voice in Choso’s overtaken brain. Jostling your hips back onto his with a sudden spank on the target of your drivelling hole, the stinging pressure makes you bump your tenderest spots again and again into his ruthless batters. 

It’s bruising - the proud circumference of his plummy cock against your elastic cervix with every recoiling bounce, the rounded patterns of his balls against the hind of your pretty pussy with each thrust.

If you didn’t think you were being fucked stupid before then you were sure now. 

Your velveteen pillowcase dampens with the ever-flooding saliva spilling from your mouth every time Choso rears his aching shaft back to plant rapid, precise strikes where you wanted him the most. 

Whimpering at how every ramming dab of his split cockhead leaves leakages of pearly white cum all over the bottom of your pussy. That sultry swirl of his dumped heaps inside of you making your head spin just as dizzily. 

You almost don’t notice it when Choso’s drifting both hands to skirt over about halfway down your tummy. Feeling for that bloated, cylindrical outline of him vulgarly messing up your insides, “Gonna be e-even fuller here soon, y’know-” He’s giggling - giggling. Erratically letting his hands slide down to your clit to give the peaked ends just a tiny pinch. “-have you all round. Full. Full-”

He can’t say anything else.

He can’t do anything else - other than watch in purely entranced awe when that makes you cum all over his fucking cock. 

So big n’ thick that your claggy walls can barely even squeeze around his throbbing shaft. The thought makes you huff as he rams rigorously through your blinding high - teeth grit, your fingers fist at the pillows and make sure you can clench-

When you do- oh, when you manage to cling your gummy cunt onto his girth as if to suck out his fucking soul, it makes Choso cum, too.

Fatigued hips somehow matching his cadence, your knees shiver on top of the softened mattress stuttering through every dousing mass of cum gliding inside your cute cunt. It was so heavy having his massive torrentials inside of you, spraying the door to your womb with a slippery sheen.

It was maddening. 

And maybe it’s been hours - maybe it’s been mere minutes. But all you know is that you’re put through rounds and rounds and more rounds. But he’s still not stopping. Still dredging out the tiniest of hollowing grinds. 

Until much, much later Choso’s breath hitches in feverish stutters. It was so steamily hot inside you, only getting more humid by the minute as you ride out yet another crashing high.

“G’na milk e-every ngh- drop-” He titters, fleshy edges of his fingers closing in around where your pussylips were the most buxom. The most leaky. “-n’ you’re gonna ngh- keep it. Keep ‘ntil you give me an h-heir. Remember that, baby– keep it.”

You’re fighting against the weight of his muscular leg on top of you. Was he clamming your pussy shut? 

“Choso, baby.” Your straining out, throat drier than the Sahara at this point. Even despite how the hypnotized way your husband looks at you makes your tongue lather with watery saliva. “Want- want more.”

You think you might just have broken Choso Kamo.

Might just have made him reach another surprising high all over again with just your simple request. He’s lifting off the powerfully pressurized foot crowned on your head in favor of lurching downwards to grab your tender throat into a headlock.

Manhandling you as he pleased. Lifting you off of the tattered pillow, the completely splintered bed frame now. 

Your chin juts over his thick, bulging biceps, fighting for both air and the space-

“More- more, she says-” He’s chuckling out, words cracking a few octaves higher than normal. From the corner of your eye, you sneak glimpses at the way that Choso’s eyes were wide, crazed. Flashing all sorts of feral promises when he plants one, two, three long thuds against your soppy cervix. “Fucking- m-more.”

You’re letting off a tiny whimper - your orgasm nothing but tingles at this point. Yearning for that the piping hot streak of seed flushed into your already-overspilling cunt. Syruping in with the rest of his numerous goopy volumes, it’s thick and needy. 

Only one.

“Sh-shit.” He’s wheezing against your ear, free hand flying down to tug at his reddened base for more more more- one’s not enough. Every possibly wiry wisp and speckle that could fill you up. Could give him an heir. “Can’t cum dry- won’t- oh.”

Rutting into you like Choso won’t stop - didn’t know if he even can stop anymore. You flinch at the suddenly hot splatter! of something warm…and wet at your shoulder. 

“Cho- oh!” Not only was the clan leader drooling out glossy spatters of saliva, he was crying. Hugging you even closer, you’re showered in neverending streams of overstimulated tears.

And Choso can only babble away, “Hope- hope s’a daughter, madam.”

A/N. AYYY y’all have been wanting more dom Choso saurrrr- Anyways hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized. 

[nemesyaaa]

❝ no brain. only big arms and fat thighs.❞

featuring himbo!rafe x reader.

⸻★himbo!rafe who’s a beast of muscles, all beefy and heavy, literally the bulky man towering everyone around him. when he's not putting on his stupid preppy kook dressing, he loves wearing those little tight t-shirts that are too small to fit his big tits but shows off his well-shaped six pack.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who is the king of manspreading. you can be sure that his massive legs are always highly spreaded every time he sits down somewhere. bonus, when he's wearing one of those favorite shorts after going to the gym, and his thick thighs are naked enough to reveal his fleshy skin filled with hard stunning veins.

✦ He's HUGE so ofc, he's gonna take a lot of place. ⸻ “sit on my lap, baby. you don't need a seat. ”

⸻★ he's more a female magnet than a womanizer. attracts women as well as he knows how to catch them but it doesn't mean he's got a hard interest in them. you're the one he cares about. he's not smart enough to get them with his brain but like any good himbos, he knows how to use his physique to his advantage. ⸻ his pretty face saves his lack of culture.

⸻★ biggest and proud member of the thirst trap community. you can be sure that he posts hundreds of photos after the gym of his large thighs and strong arms, flexing his muscle on the bathroom mirror to get all those veiny lines bulging his thick biceps and pecs.

⸻ he likes to pretend that it's for his gym bros but will delete the story if you don't see or react to his post.

✦ of course, he's an attention whore when it comes to you. that's a true himbo.

( the rest under the cut...)

⸻★ himbo!rafe who will take every opportunity he gets to show you how strong he is.

no matter your weight, he's bigger than you so don't you dare worry about your body size. you're perfect. he's gonna lift you up so easily, and it's also an excuse to show you how well–builded he is.

✦ if your feets hurt, he will carry you a short distance as well as a long one. he will open all the jam jars for you, and carry all your bags and suitcases. with him, you won't move a finger and you can be sure that you won't break any nails.

✦ you are a princess to him, and he will treat you with all the respect a girl like you deserves. he doesn't call you his baby for nothing.

✦ and that man loves to smack on your ass but you immediately need to calm him down because he doesn't know about his heavy strength. like this man, he's kind of a beast, could bruise you with just one good slap.

⸻★ big addict when you touch and compliment his physique. like yes, praise him. you're the gool girl he craves and literally dreams of. huge simp when you've just done your nails and you're testing their quality on him. he loves having your wild marks on his skin. come on, he's big. ⸻ his huge size is literally not for the WEAK so he's begging at your feets for you to use your nails on him. he wants you to dig them so hard so that every time he looks at his broaden back in the mirror, he remembers why he's paying for any of your girls appointments.

⸻★ 100% jealous. he’s really is. he doesn't want to share you. even if you're not his girlfriend, he’s convinced that you are his and that you belong to him.

the problem with himbo!rafe is that he's not really that smart... even if you're the one who made the first move with this guy in the club, you can be sure that the innocent person with whom you flirted will end up in a hospital bed...⸻while you will have all the privilege of ending up in his bed. (women can do no wrong)

he doesn't want to hear or know the context. (be serious, he's not gonna understand it in any case.) like any himbos, he hates to think. he only trusts what he sees. so if he has to spend all the party breaking the jaws of all these guys around you, you can be sure he will do it.

you don't want to care about him ? he's gonna show you a reason why you should.

this man will literally fight. yea, he got muscles to show off but also to be sure to destroy his rivals.

he is proactive. he acts, he does not think.

⸻★ if you want to go out in a short dress, a mini skirt, any tiny piece of clothing, you can be sure that he won't say no but will be clinging to you like a leech. like he's okay with your outfit but you don't go anywhere without him. it's THE RULE.

✦ if you're not okay with that, fine. you're gonna cry about it at home.

and you can pout, he doesn't care. (you're still pretty so…)he will literally mock you by saying don't play games you're gonna lose if you want to win.

“ but raf…” you start. but he doesn't care. “ do not rafe me. you've done enough tonight. ” “ i want to go to the party ! ” “ no, you just want to get on my nerves so you stay here. ”

but if you're going out and the other boys want to look at you, there's no problem. you can be sure that in the next second, their faces will be too broken to continue staring at you.

⸻★ don't talk to him about things that are too complicated like politics, ecology or feminism, you're gonna waste your time. the only thing on his mind is you so don't confuse him with things he'll never understand.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who adores when you need him. like, if this man doesn't wait for your call every time.... that's probably the only reason he has a phone.

he loves when you need him, even for random things. you need a driver? he is there. you need money? give him the amount and it's done. you need advice on your new outfit? he's gonna worship you.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who always got a soft spot for you and called you by sweet nicknames like baby, princess, peach, and pretty. he's listening to everything you have to say, don't make you repeat even if he doesn't understand a single word of what you're saying. ⸻ “ rafe, you're not listening. ” you shouted softly, snapping at him. “ of course, i'm listening baby. ” “ okay so what did I say ? ” “ that you wanna hang out with me tonight ? ” he proposed with such an obvious smile that you're forced to laugh at his audacity. “ i didn't say that. ” “ okay, but do you wanna hang out tonight ? you can't say no. i mean, it's yes or yes. ” “ okay, i wanna hang out with you tonight. ”

if you hate some people, you can be sure he's gonna be the biggest hater of those people too. but easy girl, because he's also the biggest hater of boys that you love.

✦ himbo!rafe who loves when you cry on his arms because one, his ego needs to be the first man you think about when you're sad, but also because he loves to carry you against him. shush you everytime you sob, but also kiss your forehead dearly. he's so gentle at the moment, but the moment he knows the name of who makes you cry, he's turning into an evil man.

⸻★ when you show interest in him, he loses his mind. he's like a sweet giant puppy. he's not the type to blush when you look at him but he just wants to squish you in his big arms. like, you are so nice and pretty.

you make him feel so dumb ( when in fact, he's really stupid on daily and it's not about you.)

⸻★ it's also a sucker for the size difference between the two of you. like, you are so small compared to him. so, don't try to run away from him, he will always be faster than you. himbo!rafe loves to play around with it, resting his arms on your head when he's next to you, joking about your small feets compared to him, pretending to not see you when you're around.

it's all a joke until he finds that thing can be a kink…

and that you’re maybe into it.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who's is a BIG VIRGIN not because he doesn't get any opportunities to fuck some bitches but this man wants to get his first time with you and only you.

✦ not only he cares about his virginity, but he does checks on yours every time.

⸻★ he's got a nice cock if you ask, everything so good-shaped about him…but god, he's such an himbo. there is nothing in his brain, so don't expect your dumb puppy to know how to use his pretty dick.

[whereisloe]

my angel ໒꒱

“come from way above” ❀ sevika x reader 𓆝. 𓆟

Got this idea while writing a Silco fic and realized not enough people are writing for this fine ass woman OHMYGOF

I miss my wife, tails. i miss her a lot.

“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” you’d ask as you treated Sevika’s wound, carefully watching every faint expression on her face as you did so. She only grunted in response before letting her head fall into her hand. Considering the positions you both assumed, the woman had been towering over you as you sat comfortably between her legs dressing her abdominal wound. “Aaw , we’re almost done. Just keep being good for me, yeah?” You’d tease with a passive pat to her thigh as you prepped yourself to wrap her waist.

“Shut up” She’d force through a wince as you applied pressure to the deep cut, wrapping it as you did so. “You talk too much”

Once you finished the wrap your hands were quick to roam. Snaking up her chest, and latching onto her neck as you pulled your lips onto her jaw. “Keep getting hurt like this and I might just have to give Silco a little visit for all the trouble he keeps putting you through” Sevika scoffed, half-amused at your wit as she leaned back into the chair. “That man would eat you alive, sweetheart” The petname came off more condescending than endearing as Sevika undermined your words, even brushing off the genuine concern behind the joke with a bittersweet smirk.

“Oh, you promise?” Now it was your turn to laugh as you watched that smirk wipe clean off her face when her expression grew darker. You ignored her very obvious mood change and continued cleaning up your gear. “Y’know, maybe I could get you that pay raise. What do you think?” You’d stand from your crouched position and slowly spin around, flaunting your body at the woman. You even grabbed her rugged hand and bring it to your hip as you knelt into the seat of the chair that had been exposed between her legs.

“Hilarious.” She wouldn’t even half mind you as her hand quickly replaced your hip with a cigar. You rolled your eyes at her passiveness before returning to the ground to clean up your mess. At some point you even walked away allowing Sevika to smoke in peace as you cleaned your equipment.

Once you reentered the room, you’d find Sevika casually reclined on your couch with an unlit cigar still hanging out the side of her mouth. As you got closer her eyes locked on to you, roaming you up and down but once they reached your face, they softened. Just two gentle, big eyes admiring from a distance as you admired back. You were snapped out of your trance when she threw a lighter at you. You caught the metal with ease and examined it. “You forgot to light me” She said plainly, attempting to hide the sentiment she held toward the action. It was reminiscent of the first time the two of you met outside a brothel. Long story short, Sevika was quick to describe you as a huge distraction to her mission that day despite your short interaction that even you barely remembered.

“How cruel of me” You knelt down in front of the couch, now back to admiring your partner from below as her half lidded eyes met your wide ones. Her hand, rough as it was, gently held your cheek as her thumb brushed over your bottom lip. You felt yourself melt into her warm palm as the contrast between her calloused hand and your plush skin sent chills down your skin. You sparked the lighter twice before bringing it to the end of Sevika’s cigar.

She watched you. Allowing the flame to illuminate your soft expressions, and in her eyes, manipulating your features. Making you resemble yourself that night many years ago. She wasn’t any less taken by your more aged features if anything she appreciated them. Glad to see you grow older alongside her than having to admire your beauty from an ageless photo. You would notice her unwavering stare once you tossed the lighter aside and decided to make brief conversation. “You know, I don’t remember much of the first time we met” Sevika took a puff of her cigar before nodding urging you to continue. “But I remember without a doubt the second time”

“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t” She chuckled under her breath as the memories came flooding in. You took note of her already flaking cigar as she held it between her two fingers. Quickly, you placed your ceramic tray gently to her stomach just in time to catch the ash. “That guy had a lot of nerve putting his hands on you, you’re lucky I was there. Otherwise, who knows the things he would’ve did—” Sevika cursed at the thought.

“Well, you were there and I am forever grateful for you,” your voice was low as you rub senseless shapes across her wrist with the pad of your thumb. “my angel” the words were hushed as you kissed the base of her palm, then her wrist, down her arm, and back up her shoulder until you reached her nape where you took a moment. In this time, you pushed yourself onto her, feeling her shift to a more seated position to accommodate for you, you straddle her hips as you tossed your arms carelessly over her shoulders. The ceramic tray had fallen out from under you meeting the concrete with a shattering sound as the shards dispersed. “Damn it” You sighed as you began shifting away from your partner only for her to rest a heavy hand on your waist.

“I’ll clean it, later” Sevika gently guided you back into herself only to latch onto your neck. A shaky breath left your agape lips as you laid helplessly above Sevika. The heat in your cheeks only spread as she shamelessly left those sticky love bites all over your neck.

The sounds that fell from your lips only further egged her on as she found herself getting lower and her hand higher as it slid up your stomach. Eventually, you grew fed up with her slow teasing and brought your fingertips to the seams of your shirt and watched as Sevika’s gaze grew harsh with anticipation. You were ready to lift the cloth but quickly felt your blood run cold as three heavy knocked fell against your front door. You practically jumped out your skin as Sevika scowled at the source of the noise. “Fuck, I’ll get it” You held a hand over your heart as your slowly opened the door, meeting the eyes of a man who seemed to be one of Silco’s goons.

“Sevika, boss needs ya” The man completely disregarded you. You huffed under your breath and glanced up noticing how she was already behind you, prying the door further open. “Gotchu, now get the hell out of here before somebody sees you” Sevika’s voice was cold and harsh as she talked with the man, her tone almost foreign to you as you waited behind the door for Sevika to finish. Once she did, the door was shut with a frustrated grunt as she leant up against the door contemplating her next move.

“You need me to kill him?” From behind, you brought both your arms around her, pressing your face against her shoulder, you felt her laugh. “I’m sure you could.” She turned around and pressed a brief kiss to your temple. “Drinks on me next date to make up for this”

“Drinks are always on you” Your thumbs rubbed anxiously against her waist as you become increasingly aware of how much you hated when she left.

“Guess I need to stop fucking up, then” She gave your cheek on last stroke before turning to leave only to be stopped when you grabbed her mech hand. “You’re off to a bad start if you’re just gonna leave like that” You pulled yourself into her chest, standing on your toes as your lips locked with hers. Moving in tandem, Sevika fell against the door as you cupped her face in your palms and grew warm as her hand fell on the small of your back. Toward the end of your kiss you felt that warm, genuine smile of hers form against your lips as you fell back onto your heels.

“Be sure to fly back home to me, my angel”

god punishes me by making my wives fictional :( also have yall read that hexstrap fic??? sevika please just the tip 🙏😩

[cleo-fox]

Unraveled

Summary: It was all fun and games until Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering, godly refractory periods, kitchen sex, semi public sex, Loki in a sweater.

A/N: My explanation for this one is that I saw too many pictures of Tom Hiddleston in a sweater and it gave me thoughts.

Being an Avenger has made you pretty good at rolling with the punches. After your third or fourth encounter with some alien/wizard/android bullshit, your perspective is fundamentally altered and real life seems manageable in a way that it didn’t before. You have to call your insurance company to dispute a claim? Big deal, you’ve negotiated with terrorists; you can handle Garth from Member Services.

The thing is, having that kind of perspective means that the things that do get to you can rattle you a lot more than they should. Natasha had warned you about that, but you were riding high on the thrill of successfully conquering Blue Cross Blue Shield and you kind of got to thinking she was exaggerating.

And then the seasons started to turn and Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

You can recognize when someone is out of your league. When you first moved into the Tower, it had been relatively easy for you to assign Loki to that category: he was a god. He’d been featured in last month’s GQ. You were mortal and your most recent press had been a TMZ story featuring unflattering paparazzi photos of you leaving a bodega in your pajamas at seven o’clock in the morning, a bagel halfway into your mouth. You were clearly not the same.

Up until the sweater, you’d managed to keep your cool around Loki and keep your attraction confined to daydreams and the occasional surreptitious lustful glance. Hell, you’d even had the nerve to be proud of yourself for keeping your shit together in front of him.

The sweater lays waste to all of that.

On the surface, it doesn’t seem like a sweater that is capable of completely destroying your carefully constructed composure. It’s a fairly standard crew neck in a deep green so dark it almost looks black at a first glance. But on Loki it just…does things to you. The fabric is well fitted, clinging to his biceps, pulling taut across his chest, emphasizing the line of his pectorals. It somehow accentuates how muscular he is while also still making him look lean and lithe.

The first time he wears it, you find your eyes just trail to him of their own volition, like an incredibly horny moth to the flame. It’s a day of catching yourself staring, panicking, pretending that you were actually looking at something else, and then repeating the process five minutes later when your gaze inevitably wandered again. It almost would have been funny if it didn’t put your blood pressure into the stratosphere.

To make matters worse, at the end of that day’s debriefing, he rises from his chair and raises his arms to the ceiling in a long stretch. The hem of the sweater creeps up, exposing the firm, flat muscles of his stomach, lightly dusted with a trail of hair that meanders in a tantalizing path down to his belt buckle.

You promptly choke on your own spit. Clint claps you hard on the back and asks if you’re okay, which is a question you don’t know how to answer (ultimately, you stick to a thumbs up and mumble something about dust getting caught in your throat). Loki is too preoccupied complaining about the entire concept of office furniture to notice. Or at least you’re pretty sure he doesn’t notice.

You might have been okay if that had been the only incident, but the sweater makes a repeat appearance on Friday. The following Tuesday features the deadly combination of the sweater with a pair of tight, dark wash jeans that nearly send you into cardiac arrest. Your fantasies suddenly become much more frequent and detailed.

You are not really sure what to do about this—it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it, nor can you ask him to stop wearing it without prompting some very uncomfortable questions. The idea that you’ll get used to it is laughable. 

You look at your calendar and note that spring is six months away. At least.

Fucking hell.

*

It’s a Saturday afternoon and in a strange quirk of scheduling, almost everyone is out of town for a mission or a personal obligation, leaving the Tower unusually quiet. As much as you enjoy the daily clatter and chaos that comes with living here, you find a lot of comfort in these moments of quiet, however infrequent they may be.

You intended to make yourself a late afternoon snack. That was the plan, anyway. But as you’re standing at the kitchen counter and cutting up the fruit you just washed, you realize that you’re not entirely alone. From this vantage point, you can see Loki lounging on the couch in the next room and reading.

He’s wearing the sweater. Of course he’s wearing the sweater. And the so-tight-they-should-be-illegal dark wash jeans.

Goddammit.

You have the sense to set the knife down at least. The last thing you need is a trip to the hospital because you got too distracted by your hot colleague while handling a knife.

You let your gaze travel along the firm muscles of his chest. It’s just a sweater. It shouldn’t look this good. It shouldn’t prompt these kinds of thoughts. And yet…

He shifts on the couch and the hem of the sweater creeps up. His hand drops to his belt buckle. It’s entirely appropriate, but the way his long, long fingers are splayed against his stomach makes your mind drop straight to the gutter and wonder what they’d look like wrapped around his rock hard co—

“You know, it’s rude to stare.”

His voice comes from behind you and adrenaline surges through you like an electric shock. The Loki on the couch looks up at you and smirks before disappearing in a shimmer of green.

You wonder if it’s possible to die of embarrassment and a heart attack all at the same time. It certainly feels like you’re about to.

You take a deep breath and try to collect yourself, which feels largely futile. Come on, get it together. You’ve negotiated with terrorists and insurance companies. Shake it off.

You slowly turn around, cheeks burning. Loki is standing right behind you, arms folded across his chest. You swallow.

“I um. I was—I was just…” Words escape you as your brain fires in every direction except a helpful one.

“You were just what?” His expression is intense, but you’re not sure that he’s angry.

“Spacing out,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with confidence that you absolutely do not feel.

He places his hands on the counter behind you, intentionally caging you in with his body. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him—a masculine, wintery musk that makes you want to bury your face against his chest.

“Try again,” he says. His voice is deep enough to rattle your bones.

You swallow. Everything you could possibly say seems wildly inadequate.

Loki has never been one to be at a loss for words, though, and after a moment of terrified silence from you, he continues speaking.

“I’ve noticed something curious over these past few weeks,” he says. “When I wear this sweater, you can’t seem to take your eyes off of me.”

Your heart is pounding. Fucking hell. Have you really been that obvious?

“Now why is that?” he asks, his voice a low purr.

You briefly consider trying to lie again, but the piercing green of his eyes instantly makes you rethink it. “I um…” You swallow hard. “It’s just…it suits you. You…you look good.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I look good?”

You nod.

“Interesting.” His lips twitch in a slight smirk as he looks you up and down. “And how does that make you feel?”

Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach contorting with a strange combination of fear and desire. You’re still humiliated, but the sound of his voice and the dark intensity of his gaze is intoxicating and incredibly arousing.

“I don’t—I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“Oh, I think you do.” There’s a rawness in his voice that makes your cunt clench.

You shake your head, eyes wide. You’re pretty sure he’s not really mad, but you also don't know where this is going. Surely he’s not making a pass at you…right?

“How does it make you feel to see me in this sweater?” he continues, his voice a low whisper. He pauses for a moment and when you don’t answer, he continues. “Does it…arouse you, perhaps?”

Holy fuck.

This can’t be happening.

You try to think of something clever or sexy, but the bluntness of the question and the fire in his eyes kills whatever remaining brain cells you have left. Mutely, you nod.

There’s that smirk again as he licks his lips. “Are you wet right now?”

Your cheeks burn. You give the tiniest nod possible.

“Hmm.” His hand alights on the button of your jeans. “I believe you Midgardians have a saying that is appropriate here: trust, but verify.” He slips the button free and your heart pounds like a war drum in your chest. 

You cannot believe this is happening.

“You haven’t been entirely truthful in this conversation.” His palm presses flat against your stomach, the tips of his fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. “So I’m afraid I’m going to have to see for myself.”

His hand is achingly slow, creeping lower and lower. He watches you intently as his hand cups your sex, seemingly cataloging the way your breath hitches and all the little shivers that run through you.

His middle finger finally slides between your folds and you can’t help but moan.

“Oh, you did lie to me,” he growls, his index finger joining his middle, both sliding up to circle your clit. “You’re not wet, you’re soaked.”

Your legs are already starting to tremble and you grab on to his shoulders to try and steady yourself. The fabric of the sweater is softer than a cloud against your hands.

“Sopping wet,” he continues, trapping your right leg between his thighs and the counter, the heavy weight of his erection pressing eagerly against your hip. “And this is all for me?”

Wordlessly, you nod. There’s no point in denying it—and you don’t think he wants you to, either.

“What am I going to do about this?” he muses. His index and middle fingers lightly circle your clit again and you whimper.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he says. His tone is one of light curiosity, like you’re just chatting casually about the weather. “But if I continue, you’re almost certainly going to come.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please.”

“Oh, you want me to make you come?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Right here in the middle of the kitchen?”

You nod.

“Anyone could walk in, though,” he purrs. “Anyone could come in and see me with my fingers buried in your dripping cunt. What would they think if they saw you so utterly debauched and at my mercy, begging for me to make you come?”

“Don’t care…” you gasp. How are you already so close?

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t care what they’d think if they saw us like this?”

You shake your head.

“Oh, you must be desperate.” He adjusts his hand, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit while his index finger sinks into your slick channel, making you gasp.

“Loki, please—”

“Begging already,” he says, not letting up in his rhythm. “Has it been a long time, sweetheart? When did you last feel this good?”

It’s not a question you can answer. You don’t know that anyone ever has made you feel like this. You moan, your hips bucking hard against his hand.

“Poor thing,” he tuts. “You’re clearly desperate for it. What kinds of filthy thoughts have you had about me?” he purrs. “I’ve seen you staring, I’ve heard your breath hitch. Have you touched yourself while thinking of me?”

You manage a nod and his smile turns feral. “When was the last time?”

“Last…last night,” you gasp.

“How many times did you come?”

“F-Four.”

“Filthy girl.” His free hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tips your head back. “Next time, all you have to do is ask.”

His mouth covers yours, his tongue pushing past your lips as he slides a second finger into you. You moan into his mouth as the pressure in your hips increases.

“Oh yes, let me hear all of those pretty noises,” he murmurs. “Are you going to let me fuck you against the counter after I make you come?”

You nod, whimpering.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “I think you need to be fucked properly and hard. Is that what you need?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought. This cunt is just too wet and needy for any other treatment.” He draws back to look at you more fully, giving you a lazy, hungry smile. “You’re about to lose it all over my fingers, aren’t you?”

Your orgasm is cresting, the tingling pressure in your hips becoming unbearable. You nod, lost for words.

With one more smirk, he curls his fingers inside of you. “Come for me, pretty girl, let me see you.”

Your cunt spasms around his thrusting fingers and your whole body shudders as your orgasm overtakes you, your head tipping back as you cry out.

“Oh, that’s it,” he murmurs, “there’s my good girl.”

A shiver runs through you at his words, your hips still moving against his hand, trying to draw out every last ripple of pleasure.

He kisses you as you come down from your high, and you take the opportunity to run your hands over his chest and tentatively feel the hard planes of muscle that you’ve been staring at these last few weeks. But after a few moments, he takes your hand and guides it to his cock.

His preference for leather pants or those sinfully tight dark wash jeans made you suspect that the size of his ego might actually be proportionate to the size of his cock and your initial assessment seems to confirm that theory. You rub your fingers over the denim that covers his thick shaft, feeling yourself grow even wetter at the low groan he makes in the back of his throat.

“Take my cock out.” His voice is so deep and his eyes are so smoldering, it feels like the command goes straight to your cunt. You are practically trembling with anticipation as your shaking hands  make quick work of the button, buckle, and zipper.

You can’t help but suck in a breath when his cock comes into view. He’s long and deliciously thick—big enough to be a little intimidating, but not overwhelmingly so.

He guides your hand to wrap around his shaft. He barely fits in your hand. “Look at what you’ve done to me,” he says, his voice raspy as he guides your hand to stroke his cock. “Feel how hard I am for you, feel how much I want you.”

His cock practically pulses with need, the tip slick with pre-come and you grasp him more firmly, your cunt pulsing as he gives a deeply satisfying groan.

You stroke him from base to tip, squeezing lightly. He groans again. “They told me to stay away from you, you know,” he says.

You aren’t so far gone that you can let this information slip by. “What? Who?”

“Stark. Rogers. Romanoff. My brother.” He reaches behind you and shoves the fruit and cutting board into the side, the knife clattering into the sink. “They saw how I looked at you,” he says. “They saw that I wanted you. They told me you were too good for me. Too sweet.”

You feel your jeans and underwear melt away in a shimmer of green and he lifts you easily onto the counter.

His eyes flash with desire. “I wonder what they’d say if they knew you’d let me fuck you raw in the middle of the kitchen?”

For a brief moment, frustration almost wins out over your lust. “We could have done this sooner?”

His gaze turns serious. “Darling, we could have done this the moment we met, but I’m told a handshake is more appropriate.”

You take a breath, about to embark on a rant about the individuals he’d named and how they hadn’t even asked, they’d just assumed, but Loki puts a hand up against your mouth.

“Don’t make me wait any longer,” he says. There’s a sincerity and a need in his gaze that you’ve never seen before and it’s enough to calm your anger for just a moment.

“Okay,” you say, wrapping your legs around his waist and angling your hips toward his, “but clear your schedule because I’m gonna need you to fuck me a lot to make up for all that time.”

His grin is feral as he pushes into you.

You shiver at the blunt stretch of his cock, your hands gripping his broad shoulders. He indulges in a low groan as his hips press flush against yours.

“If I’d known they were keeping me from this tight cunt, I would’ve done something sooner,” he rasps. “You feel absolutely perfect.”

“Please,” you breathe, “I need—please.”

His hips snap hard against yours and you moan, your head tipping back.

His eyes glitter as he pulls you close, pressing his mouth against your ear. “The next time I have you, I will be sweet and soft.”

“And this time?” you ask, though you think you already know the answer.

“This time—” His mouth presses against the curve of your neck, teeth scraping just this side of too hard against the tender skin. “—I’m going to utterly ruin you.”

His pace is fast and rough—the word possessive comes to mind. You twist the luxurious fabric of his sweater in your hands as his cock hits that sweet, aching spot inside of you, pressing against your sensitive cunt in a way that makes your muscles spasm and clench around him. You moan, a shiver rolling through you as you inch closer to release.

“I’m…fuck, I’m getting close,” you gasp.

His pace abruptly slows and his grin is wide and his eyes are dancing with mirth when he raises his head from your shoulder.

“That was unnecessary,” you say with a scowl.

“Oh, I just want to savor you for a little longer, my love,” he purrs as he settles into an easy and slow pace that still makes your toes curl. “You’re going to take me right over the edge with you and I’ve waited so terribly long to have you.”

“I feel like you’re probably omitting the fact that you like being a tease,” you say.

He grins again, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Both things can be true.”

He does this a few times—taking up a wicked pace that almost sends you hurtling over the edge, only to slow at the last possible moment, silencing your whimpering protests with a deep and slow kiss that is good enough to make you forgive him until a few minutes later when he does it all over again.

You hold out for as long as you can, but eventually, the ache in your hips overwhelms you.

“Loki,” you breathe when his pace again begins to increase. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he rasps, somehow finding the concentration to raise an eyebrow. “You’re quite sure?”

You nod.

“You want to come all over my cock?”

Speech is slightly beyond you at this point, but you manage to gasp a desperate plea as you hurtle into the final plateau, right before the fall.

Loki regards you with that same playful look as he fucks you. You wait, unsure of what he’s going to do, your body desperately crying out for your release.

His lips curl into a smile. “Come for me, sweet thing.”

At the sound of his voice, every one of your muscles is tensing and releasing, the slick walls of your cunt clamping down hard on the thick girth of his cock as you shudder and moan.

The remnants of Loki’s composure are fraying, his eyes closed and his jaw slack as he chases his own end. His brow furrows and he throws his head back, letting out a low groan as he comes and you think it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard.

You sag against him as you both come down from your respective highs, his heart beating hard under the soft fabric of his sweater. He reaches for your face, tilting your head back so he can kiss you, impossibly slow and soft.

You’re in the middle of the kitchen. You understand this. In a wholly rational world, you would be quick to hop off the counter, quick to try and negotiate the return of your jeans from whatever pocket dimension he’s sent them to.

Instead, you find yourself wanting to stay in this moment, with his arms wrapped around you, his cock still pulsing inside you as he kisses you breathless.

You count to ten, then twenty. At forty, you draw back slightly, only to have him pull you back into the kiss.

It’s somewhere after one hundred when he trails his lips to your neck and you manage to say what you intended: “We should probably…” you trail off as he sucks at your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine.

“We should probably what?” he murmurs against your neck, before tracing a lazy figure eight with the tip of his tongue.

It takes you a moment to find that sentence. “Get dressed and such.”

You feel the sharp press of his smile against your skin. “I think not.”

Before you can open your mouth to say anything, the kitchen is fading in a shimmer of green to an unfamiliar bedroom and the two of you tumble into a bed draped in green silk.

“I’d like to stay like this for a while,” he says, a smile playing at his lips as he slowly rolls his hips against you, somehow still impossibly hard. “In fact, I think I need to have you again.”

“I can live with that,” you say. You tug at the fabric of his sweater. “But this is going to have to go.”

His gaze is smoldering and his bare skin is suddenly pressed against yours as the sweater and the rest of your clothes disappear in that familiar shimmer of green.

“Will you like me as much without it?” he asks, rolling his hips against you.

You drag your fingernails up along the firm muscles of his back. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss you, “because as I understand it, we have quite a lot of time to make up for.”

[dyaz-stories]

an indentation in the shape of you || Cha Hyun-Su x f!Reader

summary: Hyun-Su wants to learn how to make you feel good. The two of you experiment some more.

word count: 2.8k

warnings & tags: fluff, smut, reader is afab, explicit consent, pwp, porn with feelings, fingering, dry-humping i guess?, they're both virgins and pretty awkward but they're getting better at this, all very vanilla.

first one-shot · previous one-shot

This one-shot can be read independently as there is nothing intense plot-wise that requires having read the other parts, but I do recommend reading them for context.

A/N: this is my first hyun-su one-shot without angst lol (...don't get too used to it). anyway, this is more smut, and i think it's more intense than the previous one. hyun-su is more confident in this one, and he takes charge a little more (but in other ways he's pretty subby, so do with that what you want). hope you enjoy!

There is something about watching Hyun-Su moving around in your house that warms your heart in a way you can’t quite explain. He’s seemed more confident there lately, no longer tiptoeing or stiffening around you like you could kick him out any second. It reminds you of days forever gone, when your mom used to sit at the table while doing her crosswords and your dad put music on the second he walked in through the door.

It reminds you of when this house was a home.

Right now, Hyun-Su’s fixing up a spear he’s brought here with some of your dad’s tools. It’s not his, you know that much. ‘Yi-Kyeong asked me to take care of it’, he’d said when he had set to fix it. There was something to his tone that had stopped you from asking for more, even if you think he’d have told you. He’d said her name respectfully, but with deep sadness, and you had known that there was a lot more to this story. You’d get there some day, you were sure, but not tonight.

Hyun-Su glances up at you, and you almost whip your head away to pretend you weren’t looking at him, like you’re a highschooler with a crush. Instead, you don’t even try to make it look like the long forgotten book in your lap is of any interest to you, and you give him a smile.

He stills his movements.

“Is something wrong?”

His voice is calm and deep. He sure has come a long way.

“Just like looking at you,” you answer, because it’s true, and even with all that progress, you’re not surprised when Hyun-Su looks away from you, cheeks turning red.

When he gets the courage to look back at you, though, a bashful smile illuminates his features, and you don’t think that would have happened even as recently as a few weeks ago.

“You do?”

There’s just something in the air. Something fresh and sweet and new, something that makes you bite your lower lip while you nod, suppressing the giggle that’s forming in the back of your throat. Hyun-Su’s eyes on you feel intense, and you’re not used to getting that kind of look from him. After a few seconds of that, he abandons the spear behind him to stand up and walk towards you, eyes not leaving yours for a second.

A long, intense shiver runs down your back. Under his hoodie, you can see the muscles of his shoulders moving as he walks, and fleetingly, you wonder if you’d have had a chance with him, in a world without the Apocalypse, but even that is quickly swallowed by the fact that you have him now.

He puts a hand on the back of the couch as he leans close to you to kiss you, the other coming to rest on your waist and oh, if he keeps doing things like that, you think you’ll just turn into a puddle. Your heart is fluttering, and when his hand sneaks under your t-shirt, long, cold fingers carefully caressing your skin, you think it just might fly out of your chest.

His lips move slowly against yours, and you tilt your head back as he towers over you. You feel like you’re going into overdrive from how sensual he’s being, how his tongue dances with yours as the soft sounds of the kiss fill the room. It’s not long before he’s gently pushing you onto your back on the couch, and he goes down with you, putting one knee between your legs to support himself.

And it’s all just so much. Hyun-Su’s lips, his taste on your tongue, his warm body half-covering yours, his fingers running over your ribs, and, fuck, now his knee just almost, almost pressing right where you need him to.

But this feels nice, too, and you’re not trying to initiate anything sexual just yet, so you do your best to be patient. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, and find some satisfaction in the way Hyun-Su loses his rhythm at that. Knowing that you still have that kind of effect on him, even as you’re unraveling completely under his touch, makes you just a little more confident in what you’re doing.

It isn’t long before Hyun-Su’s gotten his bearings back though, and then he kisses you with renewed passion. The kiss turns less controlled, mouth crashing against yours harder, his hand tightens on your waist— before he pulls away, panting.

“Sorry,” he says before he can catch himself, cheeks flushed.

“I didn’t mind,” you answer, but your voice is squeakier than you had intended.

“I didn’t mean to— I wanted to ask you something.”

His black eyes are wide, and as much as the blue eyes are like an electric shock running through you, you love them so much. You love how you drown in them, you love how kind they are, love that they are, truly, a window to his soul.

“What is it?” you whisper, not trusting your voice anymore.

“Just— What we did. Last time.”

No need to be a rocket scientist to figure that one out, so, even if you feel blood rushing to your face, you nod.

“I wanted to, uh, return the favor. If you don’t mind.”

It’s your eyes’ turn to widen, and you push yourself onto your elbows to better read his expression. The skin of your face tingles with how burning hot it is.

“I mean I— Sure but you don’t— You don’t have to do anything—”

“I know,” he says, shaking his head. His voice is soft. “But I want to.”

You swallow, but you lay back down. You’re more nervous in this situation than you would have expected, feel vulnerable, exposed, even if you’re all clothed for now. But you trust Hyun-Su, you do, with all of your heart, and you cannot imagine a better person to have this experience with. So, slowly, you nod.

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure,” you whisper.

“Then can I…?”

He pulls on your shirt, but without putting any force into it. His eyes are on you, waiting for your approval — or whatever you decide to answer with.

You swallow.

“Um, yes, but could you— could you also…?”

He understands your meaning without you having finished, and acts on it faster than you would have expected, almost immediately pulling his own hoodie over his head and letting it fall to the floor. You’d noticed before that, for all his shyness over other things, he doesn’t seem to care about nudity all that much, but you’re not sure what to do with it.

For now, you can at least admire the work of art that is his body, his well-defined muscles and hard pectorals, and since he’s out in the open now, you give him a nod.

“Go ahead.”

He takes off your shirt like you’re made of porcelain, pulling it slowly and softly over your head, and taking his time so it doesn’t get caught in your hair. It is such a sweet sight, how focused he gets on the task, on making sure he’s doing right, so that he doesn’t hurt you in any way. It’s only once he’s done that his gaze lands on your body. He stills, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and you can’t help but stiffen.

It might be silly, at this point in your relationship — and when the world has literally ended outside your window — but you’re feeling self-conscious. You want to fold your arms in front of your breasts, hide your stomach and any imperfection.

“You’re beautiful,” Hyun-Su says, so obviously in awe, and the weight on your stomach is replaced by sweet, sweet butterflies. “Is it— is it okay to—”

“Touch me,” you ask instead of letting him stutter through the rest of his sentence, and he almost gasps at that, pants suddenly feeling a lot tighter.

“You shouldn’t say things like that to me,” he mumbles, bright red once again, stealing a kiss from you when you open your mouth to tease.

Then he’s kissing down your neck, and you can tell that he’s mimicking the things you did to him the last time something like this happened between the two of you. You barely have time to find that sweet, though, because soon the only thing on your mind are the open-mouthed kisses he’s pressing against your skin, and how they make you so desperate to buck your hips against he’s oh so well placed thigh.

He doesn’t linger on your neck, though, soon moving down to your chest, sneaking a hand behind your back to try and unclasp your bra — something he ends up struggling you with so much that you’re the one that eventually reaches back to get it done. He’ll have all the time to learn that kind of things later. For now, there’s something on your mind, and you don’t want to have to wait any longer.

You let him slide it down your arms, then discard it, letting it fall with the rest of your clothes.

“Can I…?”

“You still don’t have to ask.”

He hesitates for a second, before going back down to press a shy kiss under your collarbone, right where your breast starts to form. He keeps kissing his way down, hands for now cautiously staying away. Finally, he reaches your nipple, and you cannot hold back a distinct gasp when he carefully wraps his mouth around it. It turns into a full moan when he flicks his tongue against it — and you could swear you feel his mouth stretching into a grin right after that.

It’s then that he cups your other breast with his hand, and you shiver. His body may be radiating heat, but his hands are cold. They don’t stay that way for long though, not with how hot you’re running right now yourself. He starts off shy over there too, at first massaging your breast gently, before his fingers dare brush against that nipple. It’s hard already, and with his mouth on the other side, all you can do is arch into his touch, moans still falling freely from your lips.

Pleasure’s running wild in your body, each and every sensation going straight down to your core, more so when his fingers experimentally pull on your nipple. You’re dripping wet already, desperate for relief, and it’s not long before you can no longer hold yourself back and buck your hips up against his leg.

He lets go of you almost immediately, glancing down at your lower body as if he doesn’t understand what’s happening. When he looks back at you, his eyes are impossibly wide, his pupils dilated.

“Did you— Did you just—”

“Hyun-Su,” you call out in a sigh, running your fingers over the nape of his neck. “Touch me.”

For a second, his whole body tenses and he just stares at you. Then he exhales.

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. “Fuck. Um. Then I’ll— I’ll just—” He starts fiddling with the button of your jeans, and just the anticipation of his touch where you need it the most sends pleasure rushing through you once more. This time, he manages to get them off of you without your help, and there’s another slow exhale. “You’re so— You’re so—”

Wet is the word you think he’s searching for, and he’s not wrong about that. The urge to reach down between your leg to take care of the ache you’re feeling is strong, but the desire to feel him down there is all-consuming, and so you wait for him, your breathing loud and ragged.

“Tell me, okay? Tell me what feels good to you.”

He doesn’t take off your panties, probably because he hasn’t gotten your jeans fully off, and instead just pushes them to the side. He’s cautious here too, at first barely brushing against the lips, which still makes the muscles of your thighs tense. It feels like you’ve been waiting for it for centuries when he finally inserts a long finger inside you, sliding in so easily from how dripping wet you are. Your hold on his shoulders tighten, fingers digging into his skin, and even with your lips pressed tightly together, your moan reverberates through your body.

“Good?” Hyun-Su asks, and his low voice in your ears does absolute wonders to you right now.

“You can add another one,” you say, except it’s probably more of a whine, but you can’t tell for sure, not with how much your head is buzzing right now.

Hyun-Su obeys almost immediately, and you bury your head in his neck to muffle the groan that follows. You feel so good, so full, and he hasn’t even moved yet. You let yourself adjust, before giving him more instructions.

“You can— You can spread them open and— ah!— m-move them in and— Ah!”

Hyun-Su follows your advice diligently, and soon you no longer even have the strength to hold on to him, falling down onto your back with your whole body arching into his touch, following after him if he pulls out. It’s so, so fucking good, nothing you’ve ever done on your own can compare to this and you don’t know how you’ll be able to go back after that.

You’re gasping and writhing underneath him for you don’t know how long, and you’re so, so close to the edge, but you need— You just need something more, so you push yourself back up on your elbows, something harder than you’d think, when your muscles feel like jelly, and that’s when you realize that his hips are bucking against your leg. You hadn’t paid any attention to it, but now you see how obviously hard he is, and the small, almost shy movements of his hips as he ruts against you.

“Hyun-Su,” you call — you’re no longer paying attention to how your voice is coming out —, “here—”

You grab his wrist, and even if it means he pulls his hand out, something that immediately has your walls clenching around nothing at the loss, guide him so his fingers brush against your clit.

“There,” you whisper. “You can keep, uh, keep your fingers inside and— and touch me there, too.”

He nods, pushes the fingers back inside. There are a few seconds as he figures out how to best put his hand, and then when he strokes your clit with his thumb, you almost immediately lose it. You only have the presence of mind to lift your leg up, just a little, so it presses against his hard cock.

It’s his turn to freeze and to let out a moan then, one obviously surprised out of him.

“You should feel good too,” you manage to mumble through the haze of pleasure.

“But I— I want to make you feel—”

“We can both feel good,” you answer, and Hyun-Su just cannot resist kissing you again. It’s messy, tongues clashing together without much control, but fuck, he cannot explain or control the way he feels about you.

You come just a few moments later, waves of pleasure crashing through you all at once as his thumb circles your clit, fingers deep inside you, moving at a tranquil pace that lets you feel all of his movements inside you.

When you open your eyes again, he’s above you, staring at you lovingly.

“Good?” he asks.

Better than that.

“That was incredible,” you tell him though even that feels like an understatement. You love the way he obviously preens under your compliment. “But— But what about you? Didn’t you—”

You reach out, but he grabs your wrist before you can touch him.

“I, um, I’ve already—”

He’s turning bright red again, but you understand without another word. His jeans are still on, and you haven’t even actually touched him, and yet he still came in his pants, against your thigh, while fingering you.

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel light-headed.

“Oh,” is all you can truly think to say. Then, shyly, “Want to go get cleaned up?”

“Together?” His voice is soft, questioning, but his eyes are in yours, comfortable instead of avoiding. You nod.

Later, you’re still in his arms, your back pressed against his chest, his face buried in your neck. And you, too, are comfortable.

There’s just something in the air, something fresh and sweet and familiar, and you think something you haven’t let yourself explore all that much, even if you’ve known, deep down, for a long time.

It just might be love.

and here we are! this one felt a lot smuttier to me than the previous part, but it was fun to write about this relationship in a less angsty way, too. maybe i should let them be happy a little more lol. anyway, i hope you liked it! next part probably won't be smut, but i don't know when it will be out. i have a new, time consuming internship that doesn't give me a lot of free time, so i don't know how much/when i'll have time to write. but i definitely have more stuff i want to write for this couple! so don't hesitate to comment and/or reblog to give me the motivation to write after work lol, and i'll also be answering my asks when i have time!

[freezerbrldes]

onanist - s.r.

PAIRING. Vampire!Spencer x Fem!reader

SUMMARY. Overcome with intense loneliness, you seek solace from any spirit that could hear your prayers. A dark century old entity answers those prays, only his obsession with you is more than you can handle…

WARNINGS. lots of mentions of blood, biting, dom!spencer, slight somnophilia, fingering, oral (f receiving), pnv sex, spencer is extremely possessive.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. This is heavily inspired by Nosferatu (2024)! The title is from one of my favorite songs off ethel cain’s newest ep, which I listened to a lot while writing this. I’ve never written dom!spencer or anything this dark so I had some help from @primomover. She helped me get the story started and I left in a section that she wrote.

credit to @cafekitsune for dividers

wc: 2,470

also on ao3

For as long as you can recall, you’ve had this recurring dream where the most captivating and beautiful man you’ve ever seen appears in your room late at night. This man embodies all your deepest, darkest, and perverted desires, and he brings out a side of yourself that you never knew existed.

He revealed to you once that his name is Spencer Reid. You know nothing else about him, yet you’re irresistibly drawn to him.

You shouldn’t even entertain these thoughts. You were married, and you shouldn’t be dreaming about anyone except your husband. However, the enigmatic man from your dreams haunts your every waking moment.

All is quiet in your empty townhouse, save for the soothing sounds of the creaks and groans of the house settling into the night.

Your husband is away on a six-week business trip, and you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions: fear of having to face the intensity of your dreams alone, but also excitement at the possibility of giving yourself up to the darkness you so desperately craved.

As you descend into a deeper sleep, the familiar dream starts. You’re standing by the balcony door as it swings open, and the curtains sway gently in the wind. A large, dark figure enters the room, towering over you as the smell of decaying flesh fills the room.

“Why do you keep visiting me every night? Who are you?” you asked, your eyes memorizing every feature of his gorgeous face, your eyes stopping at his sharp, razor-like teeth.

Spencer chuckles at your words, his loud voice reverberating through the house, causing it to shake slightly.

“Don’t you recall me? Don’t you remember calling out for me?” He spoke, his icy fingers gently caressing your face, sending shivers down your spine.

"I do remember,” you replied. “I prayed to the Lord to end my solitude." I said gently. "To send me an angel."

"Is that what I am? An angel?" He asked. As cold as his lips were, his breath set you on fire.

You looked at him - his eyes seemed to glow as they looked at your supple flesh.

"I fear you are not." You told him. He let out a huff of a laugh.

"What is to say l am not an angel that was cast out by an unforgiving god?" He swept you around in a twirl, one arm keeping your waist pulled tight against his.

“No,” you replied, your voice trembling not out of fear, but with an overwhelming sense of desire. “You are something far more sinister than a fallen angel.”

His laughter turned into a low, menacing chuckle as he spun you back around, pinning you against the wall with his body.

"Darker?" He repeated, his voice dripping with seduction and danger. "Perhaps... but you find yourself drawn to it, don't you?" His hands roamed down your sides, fingers trailing along the curves of your hips and thighs.

"This darkness within me, it stirs something primal inside you," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "A desire to be consumed, to surrender to the shadows."

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"And I will devour you whole, my child. Body and soul." His words sent shivers down your spine, both from fear and exhilaration.

You knew you should resist, but the pull towards this dark, mysterious being was too strong to ignore.

Spencer could sense your hesitation, and rage began to grow in his mind as he imagined you in your husband’s arms.

Spencer's grip on your hips tightened ever so slightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as if trying to anchor you in place. He sensed your inner turmoil, the conflict between your loyalty to your husband and the forbidden attraction you felt for him.

"You struggle with the chains of convention," he murmured, his voice a hypnotic whisper. "The societal expectations that bind you. But here, with me, those constraints fall away."

One hand slid up your side, tracing the curve of your waist and coming to rest just below your ribcage. His touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure through your veins despite the warning bells ringing in your mind.

"You can be free," he breathed, his lips grazing the sensitive skin behind your ear. "Free to indulge in the depths of your own desires, without judgment or repercussions. All you need to do is give in to me."

His touch ignited a wildfire within you, the flames of passion consuming every shred of resistance. You found yourself arching into him, craving more of that intoxicating sensation.

"You make it so easy to abandon all reason," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "To surrender to the temptation..."

Spencer chuckled darkly, the sound sending chills down your spine.

"It's almost... sad, really. So much potential wasted on trivial matters like vows and duty,” He says, his hand reached up to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back to expose the vulnerable column of your throat.

“Don't you see, my dear? I'm offering you liberation from the shackles of mortality itself. Eternal life, unbridled pleasure, unending ecstasy." He licked a stripe up your neck, leaving a trail of cool fire in his wake.

Spencer's teeth grazed your pulse point, making you gasp. The threat of pain mingled with the promise of rapture, leaving you dizzy with longing.

"Liberation?" you echoed, your mind reeling with the implications. To be free of the burdens that weighed you down, to embrace everything that brought you deep shame.

"Yes," Spencer purred, his breath hot against your skin. "Freedom from the mundane, the ordinary. A chance to explore the depths of your own depravity, to dance with the darkness within."

His hand slid lower, cupping your sex through the fabric of your nightgown. Even the thin barrier couldn't conceal the heat emanating from your core.

"All you need to do is say yes," he coaxed, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. "Give yourself to me, and I'll show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams."

Without a second thought, your lips collided with his in a passionate, messy kiss. The back of your knees hit the bed as he pushes you onto it, quickly moving onto of you.

Spencer's mouth claimed yours with ruthless hunger, his tongue delving deep to stake its claim. The kiss was bruising, demanding, a declaration of ownership. He drank in your moans, relishing the taste of your submission.

As he ravaged your lips, his hands roamed your body with increasing boldness. He palmed your breasts, thumbs teasing the hardened nipples through the fabric of your nightgown. Then, with a swift motion, he tore the garment open.

"You're mine now," he growled against your mouth, breaking the kiss only to gaze at you with predatory intensity. "Every inch of you belongs to me."

Without waiting for a response, he dipped his head to capture a pert nipple between his teeth, sucking hard enough to make you cry out. His free hand slipped beneath your panties, fingers finding the damp heat of your arousal.

Spencer's touch ignited a frenzy of desire within you, each stroke of his fingers pushing you closer to the edge. You writhed against him, desperate for more friction, more pressure.

"Please," you whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily as he toyed with your clit. "I need- I need you inside me."

Spencer's eyes flashed with triumph, his grip on your thigh tightening.

"Such eagerness," he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "But first, I want to taste you."

With a fluid motion, he sank to his knees, yanking your panties down your legs. Before you could protest, he buried his face between your thighs, his tongue lapping at your slick folds with reckless abandon.

The sensations were overwhelming— the heat of his breath, the firm pressure of his lips, the feeling of his sharp teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

Spencer's ministrations drove you wild, each lap of his tongue sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You threaded your fingers through his hair, holding him close as he feasted on your essence.

"Mmm, you taste divine," he murmured against your flesh, his words vibrating against your clit and making you quiver. "So sweet, I could devour you forever."

He pushes two fingers inside of you, curling them against your g-spot as he suckled your clit with renewed vigor. The coil of tension within you wound tighter and tighter, until finally, you shattered.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, waves of ecstasy washing through you as you cried out his name. Spencer rode out your climax with his mouth, prolonging your pleasure until you collapsed against the bed, panting and spent.

Spencer removes his clothing before returning to his rightful place on top of you.

His naked form pressed against yours, the chill of his skin a stark contrast to the feverish heat of your own. He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his teeth scraping lightly over the delicate flesh as he whispered in a husky murmur.

"I've waited an eternity for this moment, my love. For the chance to claim you, to make you mine forevermore."

His hands roamed your body, mapping the curves and contours with reverent touch. He cupped your breasts, thumbs flicking over the stiff peaks as he lavished attention on your sensitive skin.

"You're exquisite," he breathed, his lips trailing kisses along your jawline. "A masterpiece crafted just for me, and soon, I'll sink my teeth into your tender flesh and drink in your life force, binding us together for all time."

Spencer's words sent shivers down your spine, the promise of his bite igniting a thrill of fear and excitement. You knew what would happen if he took your blood- the eternal bond, the loss of your mortal self.

And yet, as he positioned himself between your thighs, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, you found yourself craving that very fate. Craving the completeness, the utter possession, that only he could offer.

"Take me," you whispered, arching your back to meet his hips. "Make me yours, forever and always."

Spencer's eyes gleamed with triumph as he sheathed himself inside you in one smooth stroke. He paused for a moment, savoring the tight heat enveloping him, before beginning to move.

Spencer set a relentless pace, driving into you with powerful, precise strokes. Each thrust hit that sweet spot deep within, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you clung to him, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of his thrusts.

"You feel incredible," he groaned, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight, so wet. As if you were made for me alone."

He angled his hips, reaching even deeper, and you felt your walls flutter around him in response. The sensation was overwhelming, bordering on pain, but you craved it, needed it to consume you whole.

"Yes, harder!" you shouted, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Fuck me like you own me!"

Spencer's grip tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as he complied with your demand. His lips trailed down your neck, biting slightly as he drew blood, licking it off of your delicate skin as he moans at the taste.

Spencer's fangs pierced your skin, sinking deep to draw forth a trickle of crimson lifeblood. He groaned in rapture as the metallic flavor danced on his tongue, the primal urge to feed overwhelming him.

But he held back, content for now to simply savor the taste of you. His tongue swirled around the wound, lapping up every precious drop before sealing the punctures with a gentle kiss.

“You taste divine,” his voice thick with desire. "Let me have a little taste of your essence. It's addictive."

He rocked into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. "Soon, I'll take more than just a sip."

Spencer's thrusts grew more erratic, his control slipping as the hunger for your blood intensified. You felt his sharp teeth sink into the skin in between your breasts. He drank deeply from the fresh wound.

The taste of you was sublime, headier than any wine or drug. He couldn't get enough. He swallowed greedily, his eyes rolling back in bliss as he savored each mouthful.

"You're mine now, body and soul," he declared, his voice low and menacing as his mouth returns to your chest, drinking the thick crimson fluid.

You moan out in both pleasure and pain, feeling disoriented from the loss of blood. Your hands tangle into his hair, holding his head in place as he continues to drink.

Spencer kept feeding, each pull at your veins dragging you closer to the edge of consciousness. But still, you held him against your chest, unwilling to break the contact.

He pulled away, a faint line of blood tracing his lips, you felt dizzy, lightheaded. Your vision blurred at the edges, the room spinning around you. But through it all, you clung to him, your body thrumming with a newfound energy, a vitality that bordered on the supernatural.

"More," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Keep feeding."

Spencer's eyes glowed with an unholy light as he smiled, revealing his razor-sharp fangs. "Anything for you, my love," he purred, already descending upon your neck once more.

Spencer's fangs sank deeper, tearing open new pathways for his insatiable thirst. With each swallow, he felt your essence coursing through his veins, amplifying his strength, his speed, his very being.

His hips pistoned forward with renewed vigor, pounding into you with ruthless intensity. The bed creaked beneath them, the headboard slamming against the wall with each brutal thrust.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice a guttural snarl. "All mine. Forever and always."

He could feel your climax building, your inner walls clenching around him like a vice. With a final, savage bite, he sent you hurtling over the edge.

Your orgasm triggered Spencer’s, the rhythmic contractions of your pussy pushed him over the edge as he buried himself to the hilt, spilling deeply within you as he drank the last of your blood.

He collapsed atop you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. Spencer lifted his head to gaze down at you. His eyes, once a vivid hazel, had darkened to an almost black hue, his face and chest completely covered in your blood.

You were too weak to move. Lying helplessly on the bed, you watched Spencer stare down at you with a wicked grin on his face.

You tried desperately to wake yourself up from this dream, but as you began losing consciousness you realized this wasn’t a dream anymore.

The last thing you hear is Spencer’s maniacal laughter echoing in your ears…

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

On the Quieter Nights

Richard Grayson x Jealous! reader

Part 2 | Part 3

Lots of angst😁I hope whoever requested this is happy.

Gotham was always alive, even in the dead of night. The city that never slept had a heartbeat of its own, its dark alleys and towering buildings all wrapped up in a never-ending cycle of crime and hope. But tonight, it was too loud, too close, and your thoughts kept racing in directions you couldn’t control.

You sat on the balcony of Dick’s apartment, staring out at the sprawling skyline, your fingers nervously tracing the rim of the coffee cup in your hands. The air was crisp, cool against your skin, but it couldn’t quell the heat in your chest—the gnawing jealousy, the hurt, the confusion.

He had promised he’d be home soon, but you already knew what that meant. Soon meant hours. It always meant hours. He was always out there, fighting in the shadows, protecting Gotham with the team—Barbara included.

Barbara.

You could never escape her. She was always there—somewhere in the background of every conversation, every story, every mission. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust Dick; it wasn’t like you didn’t know how much he loved you. He did love you, didn’t he?

But the way he looked at her… the way his smile lingered when her name was mentioned, the way his voice softened when he talked about her intelligence, her strength, the way they fit together in a way you would never understand—it all ate away at you, bit by bit. Every moment you shared with him, you felt the echo of her presence. It wasn’t enough anymore. You weren’t enough.

You heard the door creak open behind you, but you didn’t turn. You couldn’t bring yourself to face him, not yet. Not when your heart felt so raw, so exposed.

"Hey, beautiful," Dick’s voice broke through the silence, and you could hear the exhaustion in it. You could always hear it when he returned from patrol. "You’re up late."

"Couldn’t sleep," you said softly, avoiding his gaze as he stepped closer, his warm presence filling the space around you. You couldn’t help it; you still felt the pull to him, even when it felt like you were slipping further away.

"Everything okay?" Dick asked, his hand resting gently on your shoulder, a simple gesture that once brought comfort but now only seemed to remind you of the things you couldn’t escape.

You didn’t answer immediately, unsure how to voice the weight pressing on your chest. "How’s Barbara?" you finally managed to whisper, your voice so small you almost didn’t recognize it.

Dick frowned, confusion etching his features as he sat beside you, his arm brushing against yours. "Barbara’s fine, same as always." He paused, looking at you, his expression softening. "Why do you ask? You know she’s part of the team. She’s… she’s family."

You clenched your hands around your cup, trying to steady your breath. "Yeah. She’s family," you repeated bitterly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You felt his hand tighten on your shoulder, but you couldn’t look at him.

"Baby, what’s going on?" His voice had a gentle pleading edge now, a hint of worry in his tone. He didn’t get it, did he? He didn’t understand how much it hurt to see her so effortlessly wrapped around his life.

"Do you ever think about her?" You heard yourself ask before you could stop. "I mean, really think about her? The way she… she doesn’t have to try to be in your life. She’s already there."

Dick blinked, clearly startled by your words. "What are you talking about? Of course, I think about her. She’s been through a lot, babe. She’s part of my world. But you’re in my world now. You’re the one I’m with. You’re the one I want."

His words were soothing, but they didn’t feel like they were for you. They felt like empty promises, like things he was saying because he didn’t know what else to say. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and you couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

"I don’t want to be second place," you whispered, barely able to hear yourself over the rush of blood in your ears. "I don’t want to keep feeling like I’m competing with someone who’s already everything to you."

Dick’s eyes softened, and he reached for you, pulling you into his arms, but you stiffened. He didn’t know how to fix this. He didn’t know how to make you feel like you mattered more than she did. Because to him, you did matter, but to you, it always felt like Barbara’s shadow loomed over everything you did together.

"You’re not second place," he said quietly, but there was uncertainty in his voice now. "You’re everything to me, beautiful. Please, believe me."

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him so badly. But how could you, when every time he spoke of Barbara, his eyes lit up with something you would never have? How could you believe him when you saw the way his smile lingered when she was around, the way he held her a little too long, the way he called her family, as if that was supposed to make it better?

"I see the way you look at her," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I see the way you’re different with her. She’s the one who’s always been there, Dick. She doesn’t have to try to be a part of your world. She’s already in it. I’m just… I’m just the girl who gets to spend a few hours with you before you go off again."

"Baby, please," Dick’s voice cracked, and he pulled you closer, his arms tight around you as if he could hold all your pain in that single embrace. "I love you. You’re not just a few hours. You’re not just an afterthought. You mean everything to me. I swear, I only want you."

But the more he whispered those words, the more you felt like they were just… words. They didn’t change the fact that you would never be her. They didn’t erase the history they shared, the years of partnership, of friendship, of everything that made her so deeply ingrained in his life.

"I’m so sorry," you whispered, your tears falling freely now, soaking his shirt. "I don’t know how to be enough for you when she’s always going to be there."

Dick stayed silent for a long time, and when he finally spoke again, it was soft, almost like he was afraid of breaking something inside you. "You don’t have to be enough for me, sweet heart. You’re already everything. But I don’t know how to make you see that. I don’t know how to make you believe me."

You pulled away from him, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, feeling too small, too fragile. "I wish I could believe you, Dick. But I don’t know how. I don’t know how to keep pretending that I’m not just a shadow in your life, living in her light."

Dick’s expression faltered, his blue eyes filled with pain and confusion. "I don’t want you to feel this way. I never wanted to hurt you. But I don’t know how to fix this…"

You looked at him for a long moment, the ache in your chest unbearable, before you whispered, "Maybe you don’t need to fix it, Dick. Maybe you just need to let me go."

He stared at you, eyes wide, as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. "What?"

"I’m tired of feeling like I’m competing for your love," you whispered, voice breaking. "I’m tired of being second place. I don’t want to be the girl who always comes after her. I want to be enough, but I don’t know if I can keep pretending anymore."

The silence stretched between you, suffocating. And when Dick reached for you again, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze.

"Please, babe," he begged, his voice raw. "Please don’t say that. I love you. I need you."

You shook your head, turning away from him, your heart breaking in a way you couldn’t put into words. "You’ve always needed her more, Dick. And I… I just can’t keep living in her shadow."

As the door softly clicked shut behind you, you knew it was over. And maybe, somewhere deep down, you had always known it would be.

Masterlist

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Hey, idk if you're taking requests in more "dark" topics. But i was wondering if you could do this one.

A year ago i attempted su!c!de, a few weeks later i started self-harming. And even before all that, i had developed an eating disorder.

I never told anyone about the sh and the ed, my parents found out my theirselves. When i attempted tho, i asked for help, cause as a teenage girl, i was scared. A week after my attempted i had already gotten a therapist and a lot of support, but i still hid parts of my struggle (ed and sh).

I was wondering if you could do a WandaNat x reader daughter, based on my "experience".

It doesn't have to be exactly like it, but "based" on it.

I'm starting to struggle again and i just needed some kind words.

Tyy x

Fly, birdie, Fly

Note: This story will feature heavy topics based on the ask above. If you find any of these triggering please do not read this. However, I am so proud of you for being here today. You are so important. Like Natasha and Peter say in this story, the whole you leave will be impossible to fill.

Warnings: mention of past abuse, poor mental health, eating disorder, self harm, suicide ideation, reader was with HYDRA and needs a hug, good parents Wanda and Natasha, Peter is a great friend.

Word count: 3.3k

There was something about the night sky that you found freeing. The vast darkness combined with the twinkle of stars created a stillness. It was quiet. Peaceful. You sat on the roof of a random New York City apartment. You weren’t sure who lived here as your feet dangled above the city street. The coldness pricked at your skin. You liked to run your fingers over the goosebumps that formed. “There you are,” you followed the voice and saw Peter. He took off his mask and walked over to you. “Your moms are almost home. You need to get back to the tower.”

Peter was a good friend. He deserved better than you, but you gave him upgrades to his suit. On nights when the noise in your head got too loud and you needed to escape the tower, he made sure you were back before anyone found out.

Slowly, you stood up and walked to the edge of the roof. Your arms outstretched to keep your balance. “Birdie, this isn’t funny. Get down. We need to go.”

Birdie. It was the nickname the Avengers called you. When they found you, you were being experimented on by HYDRA scientists. They implanted wings into your back - white like an angel. Ironically, they gave you wings to the girl who wanted to fall. Sighing, you jumped off and onto the roof. Your ankles tingled from the impact. “Did FRIDAY report any injuries?” You asked as Peter slipped his mask back on, and you both climbed down the fire escape.

“None,” Peter answered. They were able to save the hostages.” That was good. You knew the mission was going to be difficult, but like always, they saved the day.

“Thanks for the save, Spiderman,” you smiled. You tried to give him a genuine smile, but it was hard these days. See you later.”

“Bye, birdie,” he took off, and you were alone. With a sigh, you pulled up your hoodie and started the walk back to the tower.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You managed to beat them back to the tower and start cooking. Your moms always liked to eat when they got back from a mission. Most of the time, they were too tired or hurt to cook. Cooking for them was the least you could do. Your attention got pulled away from the stovetop to the elevator. “It smells good, angel,” Natasha said.

“It should be ready soon,” you drained the pasta water and saved a little of it for the sauce. Wanda walked over to you and kissed the side of your head. “How was the mission?” It was the longest you’ve been separated from them since they adopted you. They always tried to have one of them stay behind. This mission was extensive, and the team couldn’t afford to leave one of them at the tower. They were gone for a week, and you hated how much you missed them.

“Good,” Natasha kissed the opposite side. “Tiring. I could sleep for 12 years,” you chuckled and looked over your shoulder. Natasha leaned heavily on Wanda’s back, her chin resting on her girlfriend’s shoulder. They tried to mask it, but you saw the signs of fatigue.

“Why don’t you go shower, and we can eat this in our rooms?” It was a way for you to make an easy escape, but Wanda shot that idea down with a quick shake of her head.

“We always have dinner together,” she gently patted Natasha, and the Black Widow grumbled but let go of Wanda. I’ll set up for a movie night,” there was no changing her mind when it was set to something. So you filled your bowl with as little as possible that wouldn’t draw their suspicion. By the end of the movie, your bowl was still full.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

It felt like a gift and a curse with the wings you were given. They allowed you to fly above the clouds and see the world uniquely. Then there was the cruse. The pain was unbearable when you kept your wings hidden for to long. But it was the nightmares that were the worst. Some nights, you woke up covered in sweat with a scream barely leaving your lips.

Tonight was not a nightmare that woke you up but the pain in your back. You buried your face in the pillow and bite your lip to stop the pained scream. The last thing you wanted was to wake up Natasha and Wanda. They were so tired, but the pain was awful. Silent tears raced down your cheeks as a pained whimper left your lips.

Suddenly, a gentle hand was placed in the middle of your back. You flinched away from the contact. “Sh, sweetheart. It’s okay,” Wanda’s soothing voice pierced through the pain. “You’re safe. We are right here,” you whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut.

“When was the last time you let them out?” You heard the sound of scissors cutting your shirt. Luckily, it was one of Natasha’s old SHIELD shirts. But the Black Widow asked you a question. You squeezed the blanket in your hand.

“Long,” you managed to squeak out. You could feel blood in your mouth from the wound you created on your lip. Natasha let out a disappointing sigh. You hated the sound. You hated that you were such a disappointment. “Not safe. Not safe,” you repeated. The process left you disorientated. Vulnerable. Even though you felt release from your wings being free, letting them free was almost worse. It was why you hadn’t joined the team on missions until Tony could figure out a way to lessen the pain.

“You are safe,” Wanda managed to sit you up, but the fabric of your shirt fell. She sat in front of you, and her forehead rested against yours. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

“It’s gonna hurt,” you cried. This time, it was Natasha’s hand on your back. Hers were colder and rougher than Wanda’s.

“Yes,” the Black Widow kissed the side of your head. “But it will only be for a moment then it will feel better.” You gritted your teeth, the searing heat building between your shoulder blades. After so many times, you learned to block out the noise that came with this.

The first sharp crack was followed by the pain. It felt as if your spine was being torn apart. Then, another crack. You felt the warmth of your blood from the new wounds on your back. In your pain-hazed mind, you were afraid that you were going to hurt Wanda for how hard you were squeezing her.

When it was done, your body slumped against Wanda as she whispered gently reassurances in your ear. Then you heard it—the gentle flap of your wings. Natasha touched the feathers, and you felt them twitch. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I forgot how sensitive they are, but I’ll never forget how beautiful they are.”

You never found them beautiful. They were a constant reminder of the pain you endured and the choices made of you. “How are you feeling?” Wanda asked. You felt the bed shift as Natasha stood up and headed for the bathroom. You rubbed your forehead against her shoulder.

“Tired,” you mumbled. “Sore but better.” There was a weight lifted off your shoulders. It felt easier to breathe.

“You can go back to sleep once your mom cleans you up,” you nodded, and the bed shifted again, signaling Natasha’s return.

“I’ll be gentle,” she whispered, and the warm cloth was pressed against your back. It was instant relief. Your muscles relax more. “I think keeping them out for a few days is a good idea. Allow your body some relief.” Natasha scrubbed the dried blood off your skin.

“Okay,” you mumbled, too tired to protest.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Since that night, the couple were watching you closely. They ensured you ate full meals and your wings were out for an appropriate amount of time. In some ways, you were the healthiest you’ve ever been and hated every moment of it.

The voices in your head were getting too loud. Pain was the only way to quiet them and push away the darkness. It seemed logical to spend your time in the bathroom after you ate, throwing up the food you just ate. Or drag a blade against your skin in places they wouldn’t see.

You felt dirty, weak, and guilty. Wanda and Natasha were giving you a second chance, and you were throwing it back in their faces. It was so hard to deliver that you were deserving of their love and the safety they gave you. There was a sadness in their eyes when they looked at you that they tried to hide. But you saw it. Maybe it was better if you left, saving them the pain of watching you slip away.

Once again, you found yourself atop a New York City apartment. This one was tall. Tall enough that if you kept your wings enclosed, death would be insistent. You took one step forward and-

“Woah, woah,” Peter said behind you, and you pulled your foot back. “I need you to get off the ledge, birdie.”

“Go away, Peter,” you told him without looking away from the sidewalk below you. “Go back to the tower and forget about me.”

“I can’t do that because your moms are losing their minds because they don’t know where you are. Someone disabled FRIDAY so as not to track you,” it was easy to hack into Tony’s AI system. You left a note in the mess of a lab on how you did it so he could fix the problem. “I promised them I’d find you and bring you home.”

“Why?” You asked. He was silent as you heard his footsteps walking over to you.

“Because I’ve been silent for too long. I’ve seen you hurt, and I’ve said nothing,” you closed your eyes, wobbling slightly as you lost your balance. There was so much guilt in his voice, and you hated it. You were the cause of it. It would be easier for everyone if you were gone. “You are my friend. You are one of my best friends. I know you think leaving us would cause less pain, but that’s not true. The whole you would leave would be impossible to fill.” Slowly, you turned around. He wasn’t wearing his suit, which meant he rushed over here in a hurry and put himself at risk of someone’s knowing the true identity of Spiderman. He put himself at risk for you.

Next, you noticed that his hand was outstretched as he waited for you to take it. “Please,” Peter pleaded. We all care about you. We can’t lose you.”

It seemed cliche as if he read it in one of those mental health pamphlets in the health office. But you wanted to believe him. “Peter, I-” Then it happened. It was an accident; you swore by it. Your foot slipped. The world tilted violently as your arms failed to reach for anything. A scream ripped from your throat as gravity claimed you, but Peter grabbed onto your wrist.

“I got you,” he said as he pulled you back onto the roof. Your entire body was shaking as the adrenaline ran through your veins. “I got you,” he repeated and pulled you into a hug. His heart was pounding in his ribs. “I got her,” You weren’t sure when he pulled out his phone, but he told whoever he was speaking with where you were, but it all turned fuzzy. Peter saved you, but you wished he hadn’t.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The ride back to the tower was silent. Natasha drove, Peter was in the passenger seat, and Wanda sat next to you in the back. She brought a blanket with her, and it was tightly around your shoulders. You hadn’t stopped shaking, no matter how hard you tried to stop it. Wanda held your hand tightly in hers, afraid you’d slip out of her grasp.

The contact left your skin burning. You wanted to rip your hand from her, open the car door, and run. But you stayed. They deserved that much.

Natasha parked the car in the tower garage. “Thank you, Peter,” the Black Widow said. “I’ll come and talk to you later.” Your friend nodded and said his goodbyes, but his eyes locked with yours. They pleaded with you to be honest, stay, and fight. You had no energy to smile back.

Now, the car was suffocating. It was claustrophobic, as if the car doors were closing on you, and all the air was ripped from your lungs. “Sometimes,” you found your voice. “I wish I died on the operating table you found me on,” you admitted. “Death seems easier than living.”

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Wanda whispered. You kept your eyes trained on the center console. You couldn’t stomach it if you looked at them.

“I know you both love me. I know the team cares about me. I have a place here in all this, but I’m just-”

“Tired,” Natasha finished your sentence when your voice failed you. Finally, you looked at the redhead. Her green eyes were glossy, and a sad smile was on her face. You hated that you were the cause of the pain. She reached for your face and placed a gentle hand on your cheek. Even when you flinched, her smile never faded. “Our words won’t reach you with those negative thoughts racing through your read, but your mother and I are going to fight for you and remind you every day how much you are needed here.”

Peter said something similar. The hole you would leave would be impossible to fill. How blind were you to the impact you had on their lives? “Mama,” you whimpered.

“It’s okay, dorogoy,” Wanda whispered. Your face turned into the crock of her neck and your tears stained the fabric of her shirt. Your quiet cries turned to heartbreaking sobs that shook your body. But Wanda held you strong, steady. Her heart remained constant even when you felt the slight hitch of her breathing.

“I’m - I’m scared,” you cried. “I wanna die.” With your confession, Wanda held you tighter.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Natasha wasn’t sure if the emotional outburst or the usage of her girlfriend’s powers helped you fall asleep. But you were out against Wanda, your hands twisted in the fabric of her shirt. “Let’s get her to our room,” the Black Widow spoke softly. Wanda only nodded. Her eyes were unable to look away from you. By the grace of a higher power, Natasha managed to lift you out of the back seat. You were lighter in her arms. She knew you were limiting your potions, and now she was kicking herself for not saying something sooner. The Black Widow was so scared to push you away. Now, she feared she was too late.

Thankfully, she made it to their room without alerting the rest of the team. She gently laid you down on the bed. “Should we change her out of these clothes?” Natasha asked as she looked at Wanda. Her girlfriend was quiet and gently sat on the bed’s edge to avoid disturbing you. “Hey,” she squeezed her shoulder. “Talk to me.”

“I feel like if I take my eyes off of her, she’s going to disappear,” Wanda huffed. “I’m a mind reader. How did I not see this?” Natasha sighed and moved to stand behind her. Wanda’s back was flushed against her front.

“Maybe we did see it, and we didn’t want to accept it.” Again, Wanda was quiet. There wasn’t a good way to respond to this. “Stay with her,” Natasha kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to go check on Peter.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Wanda sighed deeply when Natasha left. A crushing weight lay across her chest. Every breath she took hurt. It felt similar to when she first arrived at the tower while grieving for her brother and country. Grief was suffocating her—grief for a little girl that she loved so much and was hurting.

She stood up and walked into her bathroom. When the water from the sink warmed up, she splashed it on her face. All she wanted to do was scream and cry, but she needed to push all that down to be there for you.

Wanda was the one to find you. During her time at HYDRA, she heard whispers of other facilities that were experimenting on other kids. The Avengers were working on stopping them. A lot of them were abandoned. Until they arrived at the facility when you were held captive. The security put up a fight, but they were able to secure the building. Wanda found you strapped down to a table. Bloody and bruised and barely conscious. You flat-lined a few times on the way back to the tower, but Bruce was able to bring you back. All Wanda wanted to do was protect you.

When Ross discovered what you could do, he threatened to send you to the RAFT. Everyone was scared of the wings, but not her or Natasha. The couple saw you as a scared girl, and adopting and protecting you made sense.

Once her face was dried, she returned to the room. “Oh,” she jumped when she saw you were awake and staring at her. “You scared me. I didn’t expect you to be up.” She hoped her magic would keep you asleep until the morning.

“Nightmare,” your voice was raw and rough. “Why am I here?”

“Your mom and I wanted to keep you close,” she said, closing the distance and sitting on the bed next to you. Do you want to go back to your room?” The idea of being away from you terrified her, but it was your choice. So much of your autonomy was taken; she never wanted to force you.

“Wanna stay,” Wanda smiled, and you took her hand. Sometimes, Wanda forgets how young you are. You acted so much older, hardened by the horrible circumstances you had to endure. Now, you looked smaller, younger than only 17.

There was so much she wanted to say to you to convince you to stay and fight. But Wanda understood that pain as well. Living seemed so hard; death seemed easier. With death, you would never see how much your life meant to them. “I get it,” Wanda spoke softly. You looked away from her hands to look into her eyes. “The feeling of dread that just follows you. Like a blanket. It can be suffocating,” you nodded. “I’ve learned to let others help hold the weight. It makes it easier to breathe.” You frown and bite your lip. You habitually pitted your lip so hard it would draw blood. Wanda gently used her thumb and touched your chin to get you to stop.

“I’m scared,” you whispered. “What if I’m broken and I can’t be fixed?”

“You are not broken, sweetheart,” Wanda squeezed your hand. “You are healing, and healing isn’t always linear. There will be ups and downs, and sometimes you will fall. But your mom and I will always catch you. When tears fell down your cheeks, Wanda pushed them away, and she expected you to flinch. Instead, you leaned into her touch. Progress was good. “However, you need to want to be helped. All your choices have been made for you; you must make this one.”

Your eyebrows scrunched together as you thought it over in your head. It felt like an eternity until you sighed. “Help me,” you pleaded. “Save me like you saved me from those monsters.”

“Always.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Again, you sat on a roof. This time, it was on top of the Avenger tower, and you weren’t alone. There was music, laughter, and a warmth that filled your chest. Peter sat next to you and handed you a root beer bottle. “Alright, birdie?”

“Yeah,” you clicked the bottle against his. “Alright.”

You weren’t afraid of falling anymore because there would be someone to catch you.

[reverieblondie]

Seeking Advice

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff and Smut with Plot, Oral (fem receiving), Cum eating, Horn pulling?.

Summary: Asking out your crush can be difficult, Maybe you should seek advice from your friends on how to ask out your favorite wizard?

A/N: Look...I've been playing a lot of Baldur's Gate 3. Then this guy yelled at me and I fell. I have a thing for grumpy guys what can I say. Now do not worry! I still am writing for ATSV, TASM!Peter and my love Miguel, just I think I can squeeze the bg3 fandom on my blog. Trust I have plans for for all my fictional men. Plus I am working on request! Just had to get this story out, it was rotting my brain. Hope you enjoy it! Its kinda cheesy but its what I like, sorry.

Word Count: 6,957

The energy to the tavern is a welcomed one, All the noise you might have found irritating at a time is now a pleasant chime to your ears. How things can so easily change with time. Since becoming the city's hero many things have changed for you and your friends. The city is back to its wondrous glory. Finally, your life is starting to calm down, well for the most part… 

There is no longer a squirming in your head and the threats to the world's damnation are at the time eased, things should be perfect, and you should be happy riding an inexplicable high. You are happy for the most part, however there is just one thing that is causing you trouble now. It's the ache that swirls within you that only grows when you see him, the now master of Ramazith’s Tower, Rolan. 

The first time you felt it, it was simply a spark, harmless. It didn’t turn into this thrumming storm until the grove celebration after you defeated the goblin camp, and where he taught you his light spell. That night your fate was sealed, now as your friendship has grown you feel those glittering sparks storming through you more often. 

With a sigh, you rest your hazy head in your palm as you watch him with his siblings. The amber lights of Elfsong make his crimson skin appear as if it's glowing, he looks good in any lighting with his striking features but at this moment he looks damn near ethereal. You're acutely aware that you are staring at the trio, but in your buzzed haze from four wine goblets, you can not bring yourself to care. People are properly catching you staring like a lovesick fool; you will move your eyes eventually, you just want to watch for a bit longer. 

Rolan's journey to the city was different than yours but it was not without its hurdles, then when he got here he had to be met with the cruelty of Lorroakan. You won’t lie, you felt immense pleasure watching his spine get cracked in two for what he had done. Now with that horror over, the scars have faded and you see that Rolan is better, happier. He smiles just a bit wider and his eyes shine just a tad bit brighter. It only makes sense that the Tower and Sundries have become more successful with his influence, though you know he’s just happy that his family is now together and safe. 

Blindly you bring the metal goblet to your lips and taste the tang of the red wine nursing you through your pinning. The drink was meant to boost your confidence to go over there and shoot your shot for a date, but it only makes your head cloud into hopeless romantics. Why can’t you just ask him out? You can take on a horde of knols but you can’t bring yourself to confess to the guy you like? Doesn't get more pathetic than that…

Your eyes stay fixed on Rolan as he smirks and rolls his eyes at what Cal is saying, his clawed hand grabs his goblet and you watch as he brings the drink to his lips. Feeling looser from drinking you see as the red wine slightly escapes the side of his lips as he chugs the drink down. The deep red rolls down his jaw and you have to bite your lip from the thoughts that erupt in your mind. 

“Darling, you have got to stop staring.” 

With a sigh, you turn your head to your pale companion with a devilish smile on his face. With a roll to your eyes, you take another drink of your wine trying your best to play unbothered by Astarion as you can. 

“I wasn’t staring” 

“Tav, let's not be coy, you haven’t moved your eyes from a particular wizard since he strolled in. Sighing and squeezing your thighs together like that's going to help your ache.” 

The mentioning of the actions you thought were unnoticed makes your face blush from embarrassment. Asterion can only laugh at your fluster features as you look around the crowded tavern to see hints if others have noticed. 

“I- wasn’t, you don’t-” 

“Don’t be embarrassed, you could pick far worse. He’s a bit pompous for my taste, but the innocent little freckles on his face are pretty intriguing.” 

Astarion gives you a smirk as you whip your head to face him giving him a look of ‘back off’, though he is hardly intimated by you. 

“Relax, I am not going to take a bite out of your favorite wizard. I will leave that pleasure for you, however some advice, you won’t get him from just staring.” 

You hate to admit it but Astarion might have a point, you have been wanting to confess your feelings you just don’t know how. Looking at Rolan you rake your mind with your past chances to open yourself up but always seem to back out at the last moment, his rejecting you would be painful but being in this limbo is excruciating. You have to get your feelings off your chest for some inner peace. 

“Okay, Astarion…what's your advice?”  

Astarion's smile spreads to his lips and he sits next to you quickly, “My suggestion is you make it your mission to get that Rolan in your sheets, my dear. You obviously have had trouble getting your…” Astarion grimaces “Feelings for him out, so why not go the seductive approach?” 

You let out a laugh but Astarion just keeps his face neutral, “You think, I should seduce him? How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Simple, give him an offer he can’t refuse.”

“Yeah like what?” 

Astarion looks over at Rolan, seeming to think before his face lights up, he quickly wraps his arm around your shoulder moving your chin to face Rolan. Then he whispers in your ear, “You're going to go over to him, very calmly…place your hand on his shoulder and whisper in his ear very sweetly that you want to lick every ridge on his body.” 

Your mouth goes dry and eyes go wide at the thought…running your tongue…down…his… You blush feeling your face grow hot, so hot you think it could be radiating off you. 

“A-Astarion…I-I can’t do that…” 

“Oh, but picture it, once you're done he will be so spent he will be the one confessing to you.” 

An image of a panting Rolan looking down at you with a fist full of your hair sparks in your mind. Hells, maybe Astarion has a point…he has had plenty of experience seducing people, but you? The thought only makes it so you can’t even move. Astartion picks up on your dazed state and with a nudge he pops you from it. 

“Lucky for you there's a creature in here I have had my eyes on, so just watch and learn,” 

“Wait, you like someone?” You say it a bit shocked,

Astarion gives you a look, “Focus on your own love life, huh?” 

With that, you say quite as you watch Astarion's ruby eyes land on a particularly pretty patron. With a smirk, he grabs your goblet keeping his eyes fixed on them like a predator studying its prey. Quickly downing your drink he releases a cool and steady breath then makes his approach. He practically glides across the room to them, very carefully he starts the conversation with a smile and you can already tell the person is interested. Do they know each other?

In What seems like a quick second he is placing his hand on their shoulder and leaning down to their ear. You can only imagine what he must be saying to have their faces fluster so quickly. Nobody quite had a way with words like him. Astarion leans back up to meet their eyes where they are feverishly nodding. 

With that, he starts guiding them to the exit while turning back towards you to smirk. Well, looks like it's your turn…

Picking up your goblet you see he did finish it, okay next step. Standing you feel all the alcohol you consumed immediately go to your head, deep breath, then go. Making your way over you try to not stumble into people as you push to your destination. Keeping your eyes on Rolan you rehearse the lines in your head over and over, as you get closer. 

Rolan almost like he can sense it then flicks his eyes to you, watching as you approach. Swallowing to ease your dry throat as you continue to make your way over still keeping your nerves despite your stomach being in knots. Then his lips curl into a slight smile and you freeze…shit…looking down at your hands reality hits you suddenly, you're drunk and about to proposition him, you can’t do this…he is just going to dismiss you… the thought makes your chest ache and the feeling of your drink coming back up. 

Looking back at him he tilts his head looking at you concerned smile fading and that's when the fear of rejection rushes you. Opening your mouth you go to say anything, maybe smile at him something to mask your panic but it fails. Your lips tremble and before you know it you're rushing to the exit. 

Finding the exit you look back to Rolan, he’s up from his table and seems to be trying to make his way toward you, he looks completely confused and maybe…hurt. You can’t do this…not when you're drunk and on the verge of puking. 

With that, you're pushing out of the tavern and running off into the cool night of the city. As you're running past one of the city's allies you catch in your peripherals Astarion with that person pinned against the wall as he kisses against their neck leaving them moaning into his hand. You must have caught his attention from your running, he looks at your fleeing figure and calls out to you. 

“I guess it didn’t go well?” 

You don’t bother to give him a response, his advice might have worked for him but you're going to have to try a different tactic. 

Note to self, do not try to drunkenly ask out your crushes, it only ends in you making an ass out of yourself and puking up all your stomach contents. Thinking back on it you can only think back on the look on Rolan's face…the confusion…the disappointment…Maybe you should go talk to him? You don’t want him to think that you're trying to ignore him. You were drunk and didn’t want to spill your guts all over him. Feeling freshly invigorated you decide that you should apologize for running off. Who knows maybe the conversion could lead to something.   

Arriving at Sorcerous Sundries you're not even fully sure if he would even be there, the tower might have been the better bet. However, your guess is shown to be a good one when you see Rolan placing some tomes on the shelves. Gods, you could watch him work for hours…his dexterous hands placing everything so carefully. As you watch you think you almost see his tail wag before he’s fixing it down. The smile it causes to your face can’t be helped, though he is always so composed he still slips at times. 

As you watch Rolan work you have the oddest sensation come over you that you too are being watched. Turning your head you jerk back slightly in surprise seeing that Lae’zel’s yellow eyes are piercing into you with her trademark intensity. It’s quite odd that she is in here, she's not one for spells but as you're looking past her you see that Shadowheart is with her thumbing through a tome. That makes more sense, you're happy those two have become better friends. Especially since they did try and kill each other. 

Smiling you give Lae’zel a smile with a wave, she only narrows her eyes more at you as you move to go talk to Rolan. Approaching his tall figure you're taking in every inch of him. 

He's beautiful, from face to physique, you watch as the muscles from underneath his robes flex from his movements. It’s funny wizards are not known for their strong builds but Rolan's arms and back are a dead giveaway to his hidden strength. Looking up you trace down the length of his horns to where they disappear into his soft chestnut hair, twisted in that half-up style. You wonder if you two get closer in the way you hope he will let you play with his hair, it appears so tantalizing and soft…everything about him is tantalizing… 

In your approach your mind is running through a quick daydream of running your fingers along his horns and through his hair; it causes you not to pay attention to where you are stepping. With the perfect explanation for the night at Elfsong in your mind, you're ready to smooth things over with him. Just as you're reaching out you suddenly see Rolan's shoulders shoot up teasing like something just hit him. Confused you lean forward more but that's when you feel it, something is wiggling under your foot.  

Looking down you see that your boot is crushing his poor tail underneath your weight. Mortified, you quickly step off of it. Karlach had told you how sensitive her tail was when she yelped when someone sat on it, so having it crushed underneath a boot sure is not a great feeling. Rolan's back stays teased as he turns slowly, his tail swiftly moving away from you to go to his hands. His eyes look as if he could thunder wave you out of the building. 

“I-I am so sorry Rolan, I- I didn’t see your tail.” you ramble out as quickly as possible

“How do you not see the appendage handed down from my-!” Rolan stops his yelling and takes a breath, his hands tightening on his tail. There is now a mark from where you stepped and you feel even worse. 

“Here let me-” Reaching out for his tail you are quickly stopped by Rolan holding up his hand and shaking his head. Rolan tail in hands starts walking away mumbling a language you don’t know. 

“I’m sorry!” You call out to his fleeing figure as he ascends the stairs. 

Running your hands down your face, your intentions of apologizing to him for Elfsong completely disappear as you make yourself look like a complete ass again to him. Looking through your fingers you see that not only is Lae’zel still staring at you but now Shadowheart has joined her in watching your screw-up. You make your way over to them with your head down silently standing with them as Shadowheart keeps at her browsing. 

After a couple of moments, you see Rolan coming back down to the shop, his eyes meet yours. A part of you thinks you should go back over to him and apologize but you don’t want to annoy him further so you give him an apologetic wave. Rolan just huffs slightly with a nod before turning his back to you to get back to work. Leaning against the shelved wall you let out a long sigh.

“What am I going to do…”

“You mean about your crush on the new master of the tower?” 

You turn your head to stare at Shadowheart for her comment but she doesn’t even bother lifting her eyes away from the spines of the tomes. 

“How…what…” 

Lae’zel cuts in “Your lusting is obvious, sighing with your head in the sky with your pathetic pinning,” -wow ouch…   

A stray giggle leaves Shadowheart and you're quick to narrow your eyes at her as she bites her lip to silence herself. Crossing your arms you look back at Lae’zel 

“I am probably going to regret this, but Lae’zel what is your advice? How should I go about asking Rolan out then?”

The question is intriguing enough to make Shadowheart put her tome down and look at Lae’zel as well. Lae’zel rolls her eyes for a second before folding her arms and moving her fierce gaze to where Rolan is now helping out a customer. Lae’zel eyes narrow at him, sizing him up as she studies him before she turns back to you with a huff.

“I would not ask, I would grab that teeth-ling by the horns and command him to do as I say.”  The direct advice makes Shadowheart burst into laughter drawing attention from people near you, though you can’t seem to meet their eyes because you're too busy giving Lae’zel a confused look. 

“I don’t think that would work with him…” 

“Tis’k, you do not know this unless you try. Now go grab him by the tail and mount him forming a flesh bond with your desired.”  

You're staring at Lae’zel gobsmacked while Shadowheart practically rolls on the floor with laughter. 

“Lae’zel! I can’t just mount him!” you whisper yell at her. 

“I don’t know, she might have something to the direct approach” Shadowheart soothes

You glare at her “Oh you're done laughing on the floor?” She smirks with a shrug, absolutely no help. 

“Fine, I will gather him for you.” -what?

Lae’zel starts going towards Rolan but you are quick to grab her and drag her out. As the puzzled patrons watch you carry out the githyanki fighter cussing you in her native tongue with Shadowheart trailing behind you, smirk on her face. You try to rush out as quickly as you can mortified that Rolan might be seeing the display. 

Once outside you put her down with an apology, Shadowheart quickly places a hand on Lae’zel’s shoulder to prevent her from cutting off your head. “Why not try talking to the guys for advice? Maybe they can give you the male perspective on things.” Shadowheart offers. 

Thinking for a moment you find that she might have a point, it might help to ask the guys for some advice.

Piercing your lips you study the smiling wizard in front of you waiting for your question. 

“Actually Gale I don’t know if I should ask you for advice on this.” 

Gale's face changes from a smile into hurt then moves to irritation, “Wh- and why not?” he practically huffs. 

“Because the last time you tried to get a person to like you you ended up with a bomb in your chest.” 

“Magic orb…” he mutters while Wyll laughs, nearly choking on his wine. 

“Okay, Tav what advice are you needing? We can try our best to help aid you.” Wyll smooths out the tension of the room. 

“Well…the thing is I need some advice on asking someone out. I figured our most intelligent and most charismatic party members would have some great advice.” 

Wyll and Gale look at each other like they can detect each other's thoughts before they turn back to you “You're talking about asking out Rolan aren't you?” 

You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at the duo, “Who told you I was coming?” 

“Astarion and Shadowheart, they sang like canaries. Told us about your ...Mishaps” Gale says somewhat sing-songy. 

Sure he might have gotten a bomb in his chest but at least he got some for the goddess… And Wyll Mr. Prince Charming, half the girls in the city who were in love with him and his fancy footwork. Hopefully, they will have some good advice. You watch as the two men start pacing along rubbing their chins deep in thought. You appreciate they are taking this so seriously for your sake. 

“So have you at least tried? Asking him out? I know you two are pals but have you ever eluded to it.” 

You give Wyll an unamused look “Yeah I tried, but then something horrid goes wrong, I’m either stepping on his tail or about to puke.” 

Wyll nods trying to understand, “Maybe you could try to do an action, like an impromptu dance at the tavern between friends? The music is plentiful, and as you two sway along the music you can tell him with your eyes.” 

You watch as Wyll mimics the swaying of a dance keeping intense eye contact with you, but Gale comes behind him and places a hand on his shoulder stopping him. “Don’t think that will work with Rolan, he's….kinda dense…” 

Gale then lights up with the idea, “Why not ask him for some magic lessons? He can show you the ways of the weave and as you two flow through it, you can send him your thoughts.” 

You think for a moment, you have had him teach you magic before but…that was at the grove…and things were different. You hold that memory when he taught you his trick dear and you're about to agree to it. But you stop…if Rolan rejects you during that…it would ruin that spell for you forever…

“Yeah…he's a strict teacher…can we think of something else…Something that can explain how I feel but I don’t have to choke over the words too.” 

Gale and Wyll sit and think for a minute, then Wyll is snapping his fingers with an idea, “Why don’t you write him a letter!” 

You look at Wyll a bit skeptical, “A letter?” 

“Now that's the way to a wizard's heart, through the written word. Grand idea Wyll! Plus that helps with your shyness you can just hand him the letter! No conversion required!” Gale praises. 

You think for a moment, writing isn’t exactly your thing but it might be your only option left. Plus you're sure Gale and Wyll will help you through it! With a nod, you give them the okay and Gale is already conjuring up some paper and quill. They sit themselves on both sides of you and help you get through your thoughts. You thought it would be best to keep some more private feelings to yourself. They both seemed to be rather…really into letter writing, Gale helped fill the letter with praise of Rolan's grandeur with magic. While Wyll helps you spruce it up with flourishes about how your heart dances for him. It turned out a bit cheesy but Wyll and Gale seemed to have a good time. Maybe they should start a poetry club? 

Letter in hand you pace outside the shop, the letter was a great idea when Gale and Wyll were helping you write it but now… Now that you're here to give it to Rolan you're finding that familiar nervousness is eating away at you again. Peeking through the door you see that Rolan isn’t in the shop. It just seems to be his hologram today…Perfect! Now all you have to do is place it on the front desk for him to find later. That way if he isn’t into it you won’t have to meet his rejection immediately. The thought of Rolan looking at the letter and frowning pops into your mind, but you shake it off. Just place it down…easy…

“Tav! Hey!” 

Pausing you Turn around and see Karlach running towards you waving with a huge smile on her face. This is not good… It's not that you don’t want to see Karlach, she is amazing and you two have become incredibly close. The reason that this isn’t good is that Karlach isn’t exactly…subtle… Karlach is a complete badass but when it comes to love and romance she is a complete softie gushing about it to everyone. Wyll had told her about a crush of his one time and she had gushed about the story to anyone who would listen. It’s truly sweet that she loves love so much and gushes about her friends' conquest, but you're trying to be subtle here, placing the letter then leaving quickly, if Karlach finds out about it she's going to give you being here away.  

“Hello soldier, what are you doing loitering around Sundries? Waiting for someone?”

“Oh, no no…I just have this letter to give Rolan.” 

“Oh! What's it about?”  

“Just some questions about…spells…and curses…if he can detect the traces of the magical…What are you doing?” you quickly change the subject not being able to think of a good lie. 

“I was just at the Forge of the Nine catching up with Dammon, I had found some good iron ingots and wanted to give them to him, he could use them more than me anyways…” -oh Karlach you cutie

Karlach looks into sundries and appears to be looking around a bit, her smile slowly dies away before she turns back to you, “Well, I think you're out of luck soldier, Rolan doesn't seem to be around.”

You shrug trying to seem as unfazed as possible, “That's fine, I will just leave it on the front desk.”

“Or you could give it to-”

“No! No the desk will work, I mean…it’s important but he will find it.” you quickly interject. 

Karlach looks at you somewhat confused before she shrugs with a smile and follows you in. Finally, through the doorway, you quickly make your way to the desk and you feel…good! Finally one of your plans is going to work and you have Gales and Wyll's advice to thank! Maybe if this all goes well you will treat them to a drink at Elfsong. You will finally get your feelings off your chest, sure…it’s not exactly how you envisioned, but all the other attempts failed, this is easy and mess-free. 

Right as you reach the desk, something tells you to look up. Looking up you see Rolan descending the stairs wrapped up in whatever tome he is reading. He hasn’t seemed to notice you however so maybe you can just drop the letter and run-

“Hey Rolan! What udder luck, Tav has a letter for you!” -shit

Rolan looks away from his tome, eyes seeming to widen when he sees you and Karlach. You feel all the blood rush to your face as his eyes meet yours, you can’t quite tell if he is pleased to see you or not, kinda of appears to be…annoyed…or surprised? Damn that handsome studious face! 

Your hands tighten on the letter, you go to quickly place it on the desk and rush out but in the blink of an eye, the letter is out of your hand. Instead of it being in your hand or on the desk it's in Karlach’s hand as she is going towards the stairs…to Rolan…going to hand it to him! Oh, hells!

Rushing over to her you quickly snatch the letter from her hand. Karlach seems taken aback by your action, “Hey? What the fuck?” 

Karlach tries to take the letter back after you rudely snatched it. “Tav isn’t this for him?” 

“Uh…Yeah, but I changed my mind…”

“Changed your mind? But you said it was important?” 

Karlach goes to take the letter from you again but this time it is not so easy to take from your hand. Now in the middle of Sundries, you and Karlach are having a tug of war over a letter while Rolan looks at you two trying to piece together what is going on. With some quick moves on your part, you're able to shoulder check Karlach, not knocking her over by any means but just enough to cause her to loosen her hold slightly. 

Feeling successful you smile to yourself that you were able to get it back, but when you look back at Karlach your smile fades. Her eyes are narrowed and you see the hints of flames starting to spark around her, she looks pissed and you are about to get it. Looking up you see Rolan at the bottom of the stairs approaching you with a very irritated look, it makes sense you did have a fight in the middle of his shop. 

Shoving the letter down your pocket you do the thing that you only seem to know how to do nowadays, run. 

“Ohhhh…..so you wrote him a love letter….” 

“Yeah…I wanted to just leave it on his desk but…that didn’t work out….” 

You and Karlach sit on the stone wall looking out into the city watching the sunset. Of course, when you ran off she chased you down and demanded an explanation. You gave your explanation and that's how you are here now pouring your heart out to her. 

“Tav, I think you're going about this all wrong.”

“Oh? How do you figure?” 

“Well sure everyone giving their advice is nice but…I think you should just do what feels right to you. Instead of worrying about what he will say just…just stop being so scared and talk to him. Be honest. All these games, and trying to be sneaky isn’t how to do it. ” 

You take in her words for a moment before you speak, “So…you're telling me Lae’zel had the best advice? Being direct?” 

Karlach laughs “What I am saying is stop being so in your head Tav. Instead of talking to everyone else about this, just go talk to him. I promise it will be best that way.” 

“When should I do it?” 

Karlach hums then shrugs “Fuck if I know. Maybe it will just hit you.”

A smile spreads to your lips and you nod your head “Thanks Karlach, that...that's some really good advice…” 

Karlach smacks your back, basically knocking the air out of you. “Don’t worry I am here for all your relationship advice needs!” 

“So, how's Dammon?” you say coyly

“Oh don’t even start.” 

Laying in bed you think about all the advice your friends gave you and how all the advice had turned out. Why does this have to be so hard….

Looking outside you see how late it is, people all around are either asleep or going home to rest but as you lay you listen to the stillness of the city. Then your thoughts go back to Rolan. How you ache to be held in his arms…to get to look into those golden eyes on a dark still night like this. To talk to him about everything and nothing as his fingers gently caress your skin. You know you would so easily melt under his touch. How it would comfort you, how you want to comfort him. 

Rising from your warm bed you go to look out into the night of the city. With a click, you open the window and are met with the shivering cold of the night. A chill runs through you as you lean out and admire the star-dusted sky. For some reason, your thoughts go back to the night of the grove celebration. Rolan was being teased by his siblings as he focused on his fireworks show. They didn’t seem to be impressed but you clapped for him, before he gave some response about adoring fans there was a moment in his dark eyes where those golden fires shined just for you. That's when the glittering flickers within you started to storm. At the time you thought it was maybe residue from the magic, but now you know better. 

Holding your hands out into the still night you mimic the moves that Rolan taught you after a few goblets of wine after he got more comfortable around you or maybe just got tired of your begging. As you gesture you feel the fluttering of magic down your arms to your hands, motioning your arms up you release the spell. You used to call it just simple fireworks. Though after that night it now has a new name for both of you; Rolan’s Fire

“What are you calling it?” 

“Rolan’s Fire. You have to admit it has a nice ring to it.” 

The bursting lights grow in a flash then dim in a beautiful marriott of colors and white light. The elegance of the spell always fit him and it never failed to fill you with warmth, but now you still feel the bite of the cold despite how many memories of him you conger or how many times you spill the lights from your hands. 

“Just talk to him…” Karlach's words echo in your mind. Of course, it’s that simple, but would it be enough? Could you even be able to articulate how he sends sparks through you? Would he want you to? Or would he want something different…Clenching your fist hard, your mind running rampant with thoughts, with advice, with what you should do. Then finally you come to your decision. 

The cold air stings your face as you run down the dark streets. With every step, your mind screams how this is crazy but your heart urges your tired feet forward. Running as fast as your legs can take you, the city and the few late-night pedestrians blur beside you as your eyes keep forward to one goal. Ramazith’s Tower. 

Running up to the tower you don’t even give yourself a minute to catch your breath before banging on the doors with all your might. You know you won’t be able to rest until you finally settle this with him. Rolan needs to know, you need to know so you can function again. The pinning of your heart has thoroughly consumed you, it’s time. If only this damn door would open! 

The frustration you feel gets released as you beat against the door, 

“Stop beating against that damn door!” 

The voice sounds rough with sleep but still has that formal tone you have grown to listen for, to adore…

The door swinging open you immediately feel those sparks. His hair, usually tied back so precisely is knotted back in a messy rush, he looks surprised to see you. His handsome face contorted to scrunch in confusion at your slummed body still trying to catch your breath. Staring at him in this state is not helping you catch your breath in the slightest. 

Rolan's chest, usually concealed underneath his robes, is now exposed showing off his toned chest covered in those defining ridges that decorate his red skin. Unable to help yourself, your eyes follow the trail of his ridges to his abs then the simple trousers that are keeping the rest of him from you. 

“Tav?” his voice is laced with concern before it's going back to his usual irritated one. “What are you doing here? Going to act like a lunatic then run off again?” Rolan steps closer “What's been going on with you? I thought we were friends and you keep avoiding me! So what is it now that is so damned impor-”

“Rolan, how do I ask you out?” you interrupt while still trying to catch your breath. 

“Wh-What?” Rolan's dark eyes are wide, any trace of sleep has been knocked out of him by your question. 

Pushing past him you walk into the tower. The tower has usually been lit up when you have seen it before, but now it's dark and intimidating. Turning to look at Rolan he still has that shocked look on his face. You know your question is sudden, but you couldn’t think of anything else. Nervously you begin rambling. 

“Look, I know it’s a sudden question but I don’t know what else to do. I have asked everyone for advice, and I just can’t seem to do any of it right. So might as well just ask the source right? Because all the stuff I have tried I choke, or Im making a complete ass out of myself. So please, just tell me…so I can do it and get this…nonning ache out! I know the reject-” 

During your pacing rant, you feel hands cupping your face gently, slowly they raise your head to have you meet his golden eyes. All the words die off in your throat, Rolan’s is staring at you so intensely. With him so close you take in the details of his horns, the freckles peppering his red skin. The feeling of his hands warming your skin, you want to stay like this forever but you just wish you knew what he was thinking. 

“Rolan I-” 

“Quiet.” 

Rolan’s command instantly silences you. The sparks you have been feeling are erupting into a storm of excitement that rushes through you. His thumbs carefully brush against your skin only making you lean in closer. Rolons eyes glow in the darkness, you want to tell him how they set you on fire but right as you're parting your lips Rolan dips down and presses his mouth to yours. His soft lips make all your thoughts melt away. The thundering sparks are bursting into a warmth throughout your body. Rolan’s Fire…

Slowly as he keeps guiding your lips with a growing intensity, then carefully you feel your body being guided back. Once you feel your back meet the wall you break the kiss with a gasp, but it's only a quick second before his lips are pressing to yours once more. Rolan's hands slide down from your jaw to your hips bringing them closer to press against himself. A soft moan leaves your chest when you feel the hardness of his arousal straining against you. 

Rolan slips his tongue between your lips to taste you, the deepening of the kiss causes you to tighten your thighs feeling yourself getting wetter with each pass of his tongue. Your hands find a place on the hard ridges on his warm chest, as you trace over them slowly you feel him groan into the kiss. Then Rolan breaks the and his warm breath fans over your ear as he speaks.

“Ask me now.”

The words barely register in your foggy mind as you feel Rolan slipping his hands underneath your shirt. 

“What?” You can hardly manage the word, your shaky breath makes Rolan lean into your neck with a smile and a kiss, slowly he drags his soft lips against your skin sending shivers of excitement through you. Then his voice is back in your ear purring his words to you. 

“Ask me out again…tell me what you want…please…I need to hear it.” 

The hands underneath your shirt find your breasts and crease them as you stumble a moan trying to find your words. 

“Rolan…” 

“Yes?”, he whispers as he strips your shirt from you. His eyes roam over all your curves before he leans into your exposed chest, palming and lightly teasing at your sensitive skin. 

“I want you in every way possible…I..want you,” you practically cry as you feel him move from your chest to sink lower, sliding his lips against your stomach. Once reaching the hem of your pants he tugs down your pants, rolling your pants and underwear down carefully exposing your wet sex.  

Kneeling now you feel his lips press against your hips causing you to arch them forward. Shaky hands slide up the back of your thighs, suddenly you feel one of your legs being lifted to hook over his shoulder. Heart beating out of your chest you look down to see his eyes are already on you as he waits patiently on one knee. His eyes are completely blown with desire and you can feel the anticipation in his shaking touch as he rubs his hand on the outside of your thigh. 

“Go out with me?” you ask desperately. 

“Gods yes,” he groans before pressing his face into your folds, his hot tongue quickly finds your clit nudging and licking against the bundle making you throw your head back in a sharp gasp. 

Rolan being a quick learner latches onto your swollen bundle, sucking and twirling his tongue against it. The sudden stimulation has a moan escaping you then quickly your hand comes down to grasp one of his horns, holding on desperately as you watch him ravishingly pleasure you. 

Rolan's eyes widen then roll back as your grip gets tighter on his horn. The groan he releases from the sensation vibrates through you, tightening the coil in your stomach. The slick from your quivering slit is rolling down his chin. Moving slightly he laps his tongue to taste more, Adjusting so his perfect nose is rubbing against your clit. His tongue breaching your insides makes you grab both horns as you pull him in closer. You moan his name like a prayer as you ride against his face. 

The more you tug on his horns the more he groans, he can't help but grasp hard on your behind making you whine more as his nails dig into you. Your stomach starts to suddenly tighten more as his velvet tongue finds the sweet stop within you. 

“There! Fuck there! D-Don't, Ah!” you push your hips off the wall but he's quickly pushing them back against it to keep you still.  

Keeping his eyes on you, he watches as the hot wave of pleasure rushes through you. Clasping your hand over your mouth you moan and shake as your orgasm hits. Rolan eagerly licks and sucks up your release as you ride out your high. 

Finally coming down from it Rolan starts to move away from your spent cunt, though before he's moved away completely he gives a quick nip to your clit making you let out a sharp whine. 

Body feeling feverish you lean and brace yourself against the wall, trembling and breathing heavily. Rolan rises from his kneel and you watch in awe as a mix of your arousal and his spit glistens against his perfect face. He brings his hand to wipe his face, his eyes flicking down at you as he smiles then licks up the residue from his fingers. 

“Meet me at Elfsong tomorrow night?” 

Stars in your eyes you nod absentmindedly at him, “Yes…” 

Gods you can’t wait for tomorrow…

[sphireath-wisp]

Hihi!!! I was just wondering if you could do just little cute scenarios with sae, yoichi, and rin (gn! reader + all individual)

im sorry if this isn't as detailed as you wish but I'm just really craving tooth rotting fluff+ take your time (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Sypnosis: In the busy hustle and bustle of life, it's sometimes hard to find time to spend together. When there's time, what are the hobbies/little things both of you do together?

Warning: My readers are always morally grey in some way because it's more realistic to me, not proofread

Author's note: Thank you so much for reaching out and giving me this ask! I'll try my best to weave my story together to match your request. I owe my friend a good favour, so I hope you don't mind me adding her BL favourite here. Thank you so much for your understanding ε(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

Featuring: Sae Itoshi, Yoichi Isagi, Rin Itoshi x GN! reader

SAE ITOSHI... finds himself most at ease during late-night drives with you in the passenger seat. The windows are down, you're sticking your head out of the car despite his multiple warnings, and he can't stop smiling. His free hand is reaching for you and tugging your shirt down, and his eyes drift to your pouting face in the rearview mirror.

Usually, his late-night drives together with you have no real destination. Acting purely on a whim, Sae always drives you wherever feels right. Sometimes, it's the port right by the beach. Other times, he's driving you to an empty parking lot. Today, he decides to let you have the privilege of choosing where to go.

And when you ultimately decide to go to a playground out of all places, he scoffs but does a U-turn without hesitation.

Is it currently 11 p.m. and does he have a schedule he almost-religiously follows? Yes, and he has a feeling that he won't have enough time to drink his salted kombucha tomorrow morning. Is he tired? Absolutely. Why would he do all of this when he knows damn well he has practice tomorrow?

Hell, he's asking himself that as he opens the car door for you and helps you out.

With a cheeky peck on Sae's cheek, you wash away his thoughts and he returns the favour with a kiss on your forehead. "Let's go get a new car, yeah?" Sae shuts the car door behind you. You're bewildered, to say the least, "I'll let you pick a design this time."

"Look! It's here, it's here!" Your boyfriend, YOICHI ISAGI, geeks out in the manga section of your local bookstore. "Oh yeah, didn't they release figures already? Season 2 is being released soon, right?"

His smile only grows wider when you nod. He's crouching down beside you as you tower over him, leaning down slightly to watch him stare at the various covers. Standing back up on his feet with two in hand, Isagi seems to have reached a slight dilemma.

"Ah... should I get the latest chapter? Or should I..." Oh, isn't that the romance manga you recommended to him? The main couple was cheesy, but it reminded you a lot of how your relationship with Isagi is. Turning your head away, you find yourself stifling a giggle - how cute.

After a moment of deep thought, Isagi sulks. His shoulders slump and he kneels back down, placing both the mangas back on their shelves. Like a defeated puppy, he crouches there for a moment in silence.

"What's up?"

"I can't decide, so it's better if I don't get one or else I'll spend the rest of the day regretting it," He's solemn, your heart clenches when he forces an awkward smile. It's not a big deal, but... "You can borrow my copy y'know, don't be shy."

He perks up. It's a simple gesture, but the simplest things in life have always pleased Isagi the most. With a bashful laugh, he picks out the manga he wanted - he can indulge a little, he decides. "Right, I'm sorry. You didn't need to see how let down I was over something so small." Honestly, Isagi's a little shy. It's only been a few months into the relationship. He wants to respect you and your boundaries.

"I'll get you something in return, thank you."

RIN ITOSHI yelps when he stumbles out of your bedroom to the dimly lit living room of your apartment, sucking back a hiss from the base of his throat when something jabs at his foot. His disappointment only grows when he lifts his foot to see the imprint of a Lego brick on the sole. "What do you think you're doing? At 1 in the morning?" The once groggy Rin Itoshi is now wide awake, meeting your avoidant gaze. As you continue to piece together your Lego set, you mumble, "...couldn't sleep. I usually don't have trouble, but I don't know what's up with me today."

Despite his reluctance, he walks over to you and plops onto the carpet beside you. "Aren't you a little too old for this?" Rin begins while mindlessly piecing bricks together. His back is against your shoulder, partially leaning his weight onto you.

You scoff once he grabs the manual. "You're one to talk," you retort as you pull apart Lego pieces, "In case you haven't realized it, you happen to be playing with my Lego set."

"In case you haven't realized it, I'm helping you, idiot," There's no real malice in his voice. He crosses his legs and straightens his spine, turning to gather the pieces in a pile and redo everything from scratch. You clearly seem to be struggling. He'll never admit it, but he doesn't like the aching gap in his chest when you're not in bed with him.

It's a good excuse in his head. He's simply helping you out so you'll return to his embrace as soon as possible. It's just that. He's totally not enjoying playing with Legos with you - he convinces himself mentally with starry eyes when you both finish the overwhelming set at 2:30 a.m.

"Phew! Now to take it apart!"

"Hell no."

Taglist: @mikmwehehe, @saexy (while you did archive your old account, you are technically still on my list!! Please tell me if you want to get removed and I'll do it asap)

[gureumz]

if only you knew (that i can see you)

rating: explicit

member: jay

premise: you're enhypen's new manager and it's palpable how instantly this one member takes a liking to you. you're adamant about keeping things professional but he's very persuasive.

notes: fem!reader, dom!jay, slightly dubious consent, dirty talk, mentions of vomiting, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, a quickie (but a very hot one imo), office romance-ish (?), mentions of drinking, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: fourth of my 1k follower special! oh, writer's block is a bitch. one whole month of nothing and i churn this out in one night. big, big apologies if i've become rusty over the past month, but i couldn't get this story out of my head. also, title is by from madame swift's 'i can see you'. please enjoy!

you feel like throwing up. right this minute, right at this very second.

you're fully convinced that you're about to hurl all over your pristine brand-new sneakers, spewing chunks of this morning's breakfast (a single cup of iced coffee) on the company's shiny, newly-waxed floor.

you're moments away from it, you can feel something catch in your throat. this is it, you know this is it. goodbye to your new job, your company benefits, goodbye to this godforsaken earth—

"sorry, are you lost?"

you whip around, eyes wide. towering over you is a man, sharp-featured, lean, and unbelievably handsome.

you swallow, trying to find an answer to give.

"i'm the new assistant manager. sejin-sunbaenim told me to come straight to dance practice room 2," you manage to say with as minimal tremor as you can. the man raises both eyebrows.

"oh, it's you," the handsome stranger says, bowing. "you're ______."

you nod, chest loosening at the sound of your name. so you're in the right place, after all. one less thing to worry about.

"that's me," you confirm, bowing back.

"cool. i'm jay," the man responds with an easy smile. he reaches out and you grasp his hand in yours.

oh, he's so warm.

"i...know," you mumble out, chuckling nervously.

jay grins. he drops your hand, motioning to the door behind you.

"sejin-nim is inside. so are the others," jay informs, reaching over for the door handle. you sidestep, and for a moment, you feel like a nervous bunny, jumping all over the place and flinching at the slightest sound.

in your defense, the last thing you want is to cross any boundaries on your first day.

jay smiles at you again, pulling the door open. "after you."

you blink, momentarily distracted by the dimple on his cheek. you quickly regain your bearings, smiling sheepishly as you step into the room.

you're quickly whisked into a flurry of introductions. each enhypen member seems equally excited, or at least pleased, to meet you. they shake your hand, bow, and greet you with bright, boyish smiles.

you're dazed by the end of it all, but at least you're not thinking about throwing up anymore.

"you have the calendar i shared with you, right?" sejin, your superior, asks after the members have difted off, busying themselves with warm-ups.

you recall the zoom conference you had with sejin a week ago, how you pored over every phone number, email, and address pertinent to your job as enhypen's new manager.

"yes," you answer.

"everything's there. all orange tasks are mine, and all blue ones are kyungjun's. he's not here now, but you'll meet him probably tomorrow. you can pick another color for your tasks in the mean time," sejin explains.

"i'll email you every morning with things i need help with and you can add those to the calendar afterward," he continues. "for today, i just want you to shadow me to see what a typical day looks like for us."

you nod along, occasionally glancing at your phone, the managers' calendar flashed on your screen.

you ignore the way your heart drops when you see the stacks of orange and blue piled on each tile.

as if reading your thoughts, sejin chuckles beside you. "it may look like a lot, but the boys make it easier. they're total professionals."

you laugh along, turning back to the group. your eyes immediately settle on jay who's quick to catch your gaze.

he smiles and you smile back.

---

"________-nim! how was your first day?"

you look up from your phone, momentarily abandoning the email you were composing, an inquiry sejin assigned you to send to a local media franchise. you were on your fifth reread.

you realize with a start that it's jay.

he sets a large paper bag down on the table. you're late to notice the drink carrier he has in his other hand.

"well, however it went, i got you a drink and dinner to commemorate your first day," jay adds, taking one out of the two drinks from the carrier. he slides the cup towards you and your cheeks immediately heat up.

"you didn't have to," you say, laughing nervously. "you're too kind, jay."

jay beams at this. he pushes the paper bag towards you as well.

"this is from all the members," jay informs. "as thanks for working hard today."

before you can reply, jay bows briefly before waving goodbye and walking away.

you stare at the paper bag for a few moments, a weird flutter taking over your body.

---

jay is...strange.

or, at least, you think he's been acting strange.

it's only been a little over a month since your first day. it was easy for you to fall into a routine, seeing as the group is in between promotions. a photoshoot every other day, a pre-recording once a week, dance practice every day after dinner. the most stress you've had so far was when you forgot to phone the van driver about a change in schedule, leaving you and half the members stranded at a certain broadcast station.

jay had comforted you then, as you were near tears. he laid a hand on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing against your sweater in an attempt to soothe you.

"it happens," jay had said. you didn't even notice his hand had moved from your arm down to the small of your back.

"you're doing great," he added before withdrawing his hand.

you thought about that moment the whole night. how warm his touch was, how gentle he handled your near-breakdown.

he was your responsibility and yet jay was the one that came to your rescue.

you went out on your first official team dinner a few days after that, with the whole managerial team present along with the members. sejin recommended a quaint, yet highly-acclaimed restaurant off one of the side streets around the company.

jay had squeezed in beside you at the table, so close you can feel his body heat radiating off him. a few times his knees knocked against yours but neither of you acted like you noticed.

it was then the first inkling of suspicion rose in you.

could jay be...?

surely not. he was just being nice. he's the literal definition of a gentleman. it's just the way jay is.

of course. it's totally in his character to bring you coffee almost every day. it's normal that he rushes to open every door you walk through. there's definitely nothing weird about him gifting you an expensive box of chocolates for completing your first month on the job.

he's not flirting with you. that would be silly.

you sigh, shaking off these thoughts as you approach the small practice booth at the end of the hall. you can hear the sound of a guitar from the inside.

"jay?" you call out, knuckles knocking against the glass door. the guitar stops.

"yeah?" comes a muffled voice from inside. you slowly push the door open, peeking your head in.

jay is seated in front of the computer, his electric guitar cradled in his arms. he's sporting a loose white shirt and black joggers. his hair is unstyled, black tresses falling over his eyes. he brushes it back with his fingers.

"you have a recording like—," you pause, checking your watch. "right now."

jay gives a start, checking his phone. he groans, setting his guitar down on its stand.

"right," he mutters under his breath. he sighs, rising up from his seat.

you watch as he stretches, the bottom of his shirt riding up to reveal the top of his boxers peeking out from his pants. you catch a glimpse of a very thin sliver of skin.

you try your best to ignore that.

"you better hurry before the producer kicks both of our asses," you urge lightly, crossing your arms. you've been trying to be more assertive with the members lately, seeing as you've already had enough time to know more about them and how they're supposed to be spending their days under your supervision.

"yes ma'am," jay replies, approaching you. you step out of the doorway to let him pass.

he doesn't move for a few seconds and you peer up at him with a questioning look on your face.

"can i ask you something?" jay blurts out, shoving his hands in his pockets.

you glance around to make sure no one is nearby. you have a feeling he's about to ask something that's a little less appropriate for work.

"are you single?"

you nearly choke on your own spit. you had a sense of what he was going to ask, but you never expected him to be this direct.

"may i know why you're asking?" you reply, treading carefully. one wrong move and you can end up dismissed from this long-coveted job of yours.

jay shrugs. "just curious."

you chew on your lip, contemplating how to go about his question. you let out a breath, deciding that there's no harm in being truthful.

"i am," you confirm.

jay nods. "same."

you quirk an eyebrow at this. cocking your head to the side, you ask, "really? how come?"

"i'm sure you see how busy we are," jay counters with a smirk.

it's your turn to shrug. "that doesn't stop jake from texting that girl from—"

"you know about that?!" jay cuts in, his voice dropping to a whisper.

you snicker, shaking your head.

"i know a lot of things, jay. i'm with you guys almost every waking hour of the day," you inform.

jay looks at you with an unreadable expression. something between fear and confusion. it makes you giggle.

"i technically should take it up with HR and higher management, but the other managers and i agreed that until you guys decide to go sneaking off on late-night dates, we'll keep it under wraps."

jay's mouth hangs open, still in disbelief.

"so, if you're planning on taking some girl out, you better let me know," you say, giving jay a pointed look.

jay's expression changes then as he ducks his head to avoid your eyes.

"not gonna happen," he says.

jay gives you a curt nod and smile before pushing past you out into the hallway.

---

you and jay don't talk about that night.

you know that he knows that you know the reason he asked about the state of your love life. he definitely did it on purpose to open up the discussion.

you're determined to squash the notion before it develops further.

you're not doing it to be mean. you'd never want to hurt jay on purpose. but you have a job to do and a reputation to keep.

jay knows that. he should know that.

you get the impression that even if he did, he doesn't care. not when he's sauntering over to you now, a bag of food and an iced coffee in his hands.

"mind if i join you?" jay asks, already sliding into the seat across you. there's barely any other people in the hybe cafeteria but a nervous chill still runs up your spine.

this is nothing. just a friendly lunch between a manager and her member.

"you didn't leave me much choice," you say with a laugh.

jay shrugs, winking at you playfully. you quickly avert your eyes. better to not say anything.

"i like your outfit today," jay compliments, taking a sip of his coffee.

you glance down at yourself. you're in a plain, short-sleeved blouse, white and a little sheer. you paired it with comfortable black corduroy pants and sneakers.

nothing special. to you, at least.

you had to feign ignorance on the way jay had stared at you the whole morning while you were in a meeting.

"thank you," you reply curtly, taking a bite of your kimbap.

"i'm taking you guys home tonight." you quickly revert to another subject.

"kyungjun-sunbaenim has to attend to other things so he assigned me to make sure all of you get home safe and in one piece for today."

jay nods. "got it."

"you guys don't have anything scheduled after 11 so i expect all of you to be at the lobby by that time," you add.

you can feel jay staring as you continue to pick at your food. you fight the urge to look up.

"will do," he finally says.

---

"do you need me to walk you guys up?"

you lean out of the passenger side window, watching as the members file out of the vans in front of their apartment building. thankfully, they all heeded your word, showing up at the lobby at 11:05, ready to head home for the day.

as if to prove that the heavens were on your side, the ride home was awfully quiet, too, which was a surprise considering that it was jay, jake, and sunghoon that decided to ride along with you.

jungwon shakes his head to your question, walking up to your side of the van.

"we're good, _______-noona," jungwon says. "you get home safe, though!"

riki nods along, skipping up to you. "yeah, or else jay hyung is g—"

the youngest is cut off with a sharp elbow to his ribs by jay. riki splutters out in disbelief, complaining, but he's herded off by sunoo.

"good night," jay calls out over his shoulder, waving at you.

you wave back, observing as the boys enter the building, finally letting yourself relax as the last of them disappear through the doors.

---

a vibration jolts against your cheek and you gasp as you're ripped right out of your deep slumber.

you realize in your sleep-hazed mind that it's your phone that woke you up, ringing incessantly. you must have fallen asleep with your face against it.

you press the 'answer' button, the faint beginnings of irritability creeping up your chest.

"hello?" you say, voice sharp.

"_______-noona? i'm so sorry for waking you if you were sleeping, but i didn't know who else to call. we're sorry but we went out to drink after you dropped us off and jay hyung had a little more alcohol than he could handle."

the voice rambles on and it takes you a second to remember who it belongs to.

"jungwon? where are you? who's with you?"

a short pause. you hear the faint sound of a voice, rapidly complaining. you think it's sunoo.

"we took a cab back to our apartment but jay hyung won't get up so we're out here on the front steps," jungwon explains.

"he's just too heavy for sunoo-hyung and i while he's in this state, and the rest of the hyungs are already passed out upstairs," he adds.

you press a hand on your forehead. this can't be happening right now.

a million thoughts run through your head but you will them to quiet down, focusing instead at the task at hand.

"how about riki?" you ask.

"nothing is going to wake him up now, noona," jungwon says, exasperated.

"please, we're not in the—hic—best state, either," jungwon continues. you can still hear sunoo in the background.

you fight the urge to groan.

"okay, okay, i'm on my way," you finally say.

---

you practically fly out of the taxi, not even bothering to wait for your change. you see three figures at the front of the building and you immediately recognize them as jay, sunoo, and jungwon.

"what the hell, jay?" you ask, rushing over. sunoo and jungwon have resigned themselves to sitting on both sides of jay's sprawled figure on the stairs.

jay is on his side, hands tucked under his head as if sleeping on the most comfortable bed instead of rough concrete.

"we tried," sunoo says with a pout. his eyes are glassy, but his speech seems fine. probably tipsy, you think.

"i can carry him just fine," jungwon speaks up. his speech is definitely slurred. "but that's when he's conscious and when i'm not drunk off three bottles of soju."

"jesus christ," you say under your breath.

"okay, i'll grab from under his arms, sunoo you grab his legs, and jungwon, support his torso and that big fat ass of his," you instruct, positioning yourself at jay's head.

jay giggles suddenly, eyes blinking open slowly.

"you think my ass is fat?" jay asks, barely comprehensible with how drunk he is.

"shut up," you respond, huffing. you tuck your hands at his armpits, hooking your arms through.

sunoo and jungwon follow suit.

carrying a nearly six-foot-tall man weighing more than what you can deadlift in the rare times you're at the gym was exactly as difficult as you expected, even with additional help.

it took the three of you ten whole minutes to haul jay towards the elevator and about fifteen to get him down the hall to their unit.

only god knows where the apartment's security guard is amidst all this.

"just a little more," you pant as you combine your efforts to drag jay towards his shared bedroom with jake.

you kick the door open as you heave all your might into getting jay across the threshold.

the room's empty. jake's probably in heeseung's room.

your legs give out before you can get jay to his bed. sunoo and jungwon fall to their knees as well, all three of you breathing heavily from the effort.

"i need to throw up," jungwon declares, dashing out of the room.

"i need...," sunoo pauses, a hand held up as if to silence you, despite you not having said a word.

"i need water and an aspirin," sunoo finally says, stumbling out of the room as well.

he's gracious enough to close the door behind him.

you get up, feeling around for a bedside lamp, muttering a soft 'yes' when you finally feel a switch between your fingers. you turn the lamp on, bathing the room in a soft yellow glow.

you turn to see jay's slumped figure, his back resting on the foot of one of the beds. you approach quietly, kneeling down next to him.

"you're such an idiot," you whisper, brushing back some of the damp hair away from jay's forehead. "who told you to get this drunk?"

"no one," jay responds. you nearly jump, not expecting jay to be lucid at this point in time.

"you know i'm gonna have to tell the other managers about this," you softly berate jay, tugging off his jacket. he giggles, holding his hands over his chest.

"why are you undressing me? do you wanna fuck me or something?" jay asks in his drunken stupor.

you roll your eyes. "no, stupid, i'm making sure you're as comfortable as you can be while in this state."

"liar," jay counters. "you so wanna fuck me."

"i could report you for inappropriate behavior," you reply quietly, throwing jay's jacket to the side. you reach for the topmost buttons of his polo.

"see? you're getting me naked," jay continues, reaching out to take ahold of your wrist.

you stop to look up and you realize that jay has his eyes open, pupils focused on you. his grip tightens around your wrist as he pulls you closer.

"you know right?" jay asks.

your first instinct is to feign innocence, to ask him what he's talking about.

but you do know.

"you're drunk, jay," you supply rather simply. "we'll talk tomorrow."

jay smiles, reaching out to cup one side of your face. you freeze, letting jay's thumb run along your cheekbone before traveling down to your lips. he traces the curves of your mouth, staring intently.

you don't know whether you leaned in or if jay pulled you down, but a moment later, your mouth is against his, a desperate, messy press of lips. he licks right into you, and you can't help the groan that escapes you.

you can't be doing this. this is a clear breach of protocol, this is illegal, even.

"jay," you whisper against his lips. "jay, please."

jay pauses, pulling away slightly. he nuzzles against your cheek, waiting for you to speak.

"we can't keep doing this," you say, prying jay off you. "at least not when you're still drunk."

jay gives you a long, hard look. his eyes are half-lidded as if a step away from sleep. his mouth is parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"i'll remember this tomorrow," jay declares.

you sigh, leaning in to peck his lips one last time.

"we'll see."

---

the whole thing blew up in the members' faces. and yours.

you got a good telling-off from sejin, but thankfully nothing reached upper management. the whole group was called into one of the conference rooms the next day and sejin spared no one in his heated scolding. not even riki.

('i was sleeping!' riki had argued. sejin planted his hands firmly on his hips and listed the many different ways ni-ki could have contacted any of the managers to at least inform us of the older members' whereabouts)

you stood very still in the corner, having already received the tamer, abridged version of sejin's speech.

it's been a week now and everything was as normal as it could be, the only difference being that the whole group would be required to have their locations turned on at all times for the next few weeks until management was sure they wouldn't pull another stunt like that again.

oh, and you've been avoiding jay like the plague.

you're thankful that he made no effort in approaching you outside of what was appropriate for work and whenever he did, he'd look anywhere but your face.

it hurt you a bit to see him like this, knowing that he's probably embarrassed with the whole thing. though, you're not quite sure if he's also affected by or if he even remembers the incident in his room.

you're so deep in thought while storming down the hallway, that you nearly run into someone. their firm arms reach out to keep you steady as you try and regain your balance.

you look up and all air is knocked out of your lungs.

"oh, hi jay," you greet, stepping back. your palms clam up as memories of that night the week before flash in your mind.

"hi, ________-noona," he replies.

seconds tick by and no one talks. you know you should say something, anything. an apology, a snarky remark, or a lame excuse to get away. but nothing comes to mind.

"i'm sorry about what happened," jay finally cuts through the silence.

you shake your head, offering him a smile. "we've been over it, jay. quite thoroughly, if by sejin-sunbaenim's standards."

"that's not what i meant," jay continues. he's looking you in the eye.

you gulp, your insides churning.

"that's fine," you begin, keeping your voice as steady as you can. "we can just forget about it."

jay sighs. "i'm not sorry that it happened. i'm sorry that i needed to be drunk to let you know how i was feeling."

you're struck speechless, your brain going haywire. how do you respond to that?

"jay, you know we can't," you deflect, taking another step back. jay follows, standing over you. you feel so small, so vulnerable under his gaze.

"why not? the worst that could happen is you'll be transferred to another artist, another department," jay protests. he takes another step forward.

all you can do is stare down at the floor.

you want it, too. so bad. but you can't risk it. you're not ready, everything's still too uncer—

you feel a pair of hands on your face. you gasp, eyes darting around to see if anyone is in the vicinity.

"j-jay, not here—"

you're pulled forward, jay's strong grip around your arm. he practically drags you to a nearby supply closet, yanking the door open and pushing you in.

worry gnaws away in you as you remember the surveillance cameras in the hallway. those thoughts are immediately pushed away when you feel jay press up against you. you hear him rummage around for a switch, and suddenly, the cramped space is illuminated with dim, yellow lighting.

the closet couldn't be more than a few feet wide both ways, just enough to accommodate two people standing practically on top of each other.

jay grabs your hips and presses himself to your frame. you stifle a gasp as you feel him poking through his pants.

"i want you," jay says lowly, large hands traveling down to your ass. he holds them firmly, squeezing with all his might.

you moan, your hand flying up to your mouth.

"you want me too, right?" jay asks. he slips his hands beneath your denim skirt, a timely choice of clothing for this situation.

you don't know whether to thank or curse the heavens for that particular choice you made.

"we can't—," you begin once more.

jay shuts you up with his mouth, kissing you with so much force it drives you back against the storage shelves. jay cages you between his arms, planting his hands on the wood behind you. he devours your lips as if they were his last meal on earth.

he reaches one hand down, pressing two fingers against your mound. jay groans against your lips when he feels the wetness in your underwear.

"see? you want me, too," jay says, pulling away. he bunches up your skirt around your waist.

"keep it up," jay commands and you oblige, gripping your skirt with shaky hands. you watch as jay unzips his pants, pulling them down along with his underwear, just enough to let his already hard cock spring free.

jay yanks your panties aside, tapping your legs, signaling you to open up. you part your thighs, reaching up to steady yourself on jay.

you yelp when jay pulls one of your legs around his hips, giving him a better angle to slide in. and he does, slipping in so easily between your folds and right into your waiting hole.

"j-jay," you gasp out as he fully sheathes himself within you.

"fuck, you feel amazing," jay compliments, wrapping an arm around your midsection. "already so wet for me."

he pulls you even closer and that's when he starts to move. jay's thrusts are intense, plunging into you fully before pulling back nearly all the way out, and then sinking right back in. your eyes roll back as jay picks up the pace.

"sshh, that's it," jay coos. "we gotta be quiet and we gotta be fast."

you let out a muted whimper, burying your face in jay's chest. soft thuds can be heard as he fucks you against the shelves, your back digging painfully against them, but you can't be bothered to care, not when jay's cock is splitting you open so well.

"still gonna say 'we can't'?" jay says through gritted teeth. you look up to see his forehead creased in concentration, his pupils blown wide. sweat drips down the side of his face.

"god, you look so good like that," jay whispers. "so helpless on my cock. this is what you wanted, right?"

you nod frantically, arms wrapping around jay's neck.

"yeah," you breathe out. "wanted your cock for so long."

jay grunts, throwing his head back. "yes, keep talking to me like that."

his movements quicken and it takes everything in you to fight against the urge to let your knees buckle underneath you.

"please jay," you whimper. "fuck me harder, fuck me the way you've always wanted to fuck me."

"shit," jay mutters.

you're briefly left breathless as you feel your other leg give out, neither of your feet planted on the floor. it takes you a second to realize that jay has scooped you up in his arms, holding you up completely as he continues to ram into you. you wrap your legs tighter around jay.

jay has full control now and all you can do is hang on for dear life.

"yes! jay, yes!" you cry out against his neck. jay pants directly in your ear, fucking you at a speed that's nearly unimaginable to you.

"i-i'm gonna cum," jay manages to get out.

"do it," you quickly answer. jay pulls back to look at you.

you hold his face in your hands, nodding. jay covers your mouth with his as he gives the last of his thrusts, stilling inside you after a while. he presses himself deep within you and you moan against his mouth, feeling him pulse and twitch against your walls.

you cling onto jay for a whole minute before he stumbles back, letting you down on your own two feet. he snaps your underwear back in place, kissing you passionately as he does.

"keep it there for the rest of the day," jay mumbles against your lips, smiling.

you laugh breathlessly, unsure whether it really is jay saying all these things.

you hear a faint buzzing sound and you jump, remembering that you had your phone in your skirt.

well, before jay nearly ripped it off you.

you spot your device on the ground, snatching it up to quickly answer the call.

"hello?"

"_______? have you seen jay?" sejin's voice cuts through the silence inside the closet. you meet jay's eyes and he, too, is perusing his phone.

"no," you lie right between your teeth. "i haven't. why?"

"he has a schedule in a bit and he's not answering any of my calls," sejin says. you're not quite sure if he's worried or irritated. probably both.

"i'll try calling him," you offer. jay grins wolfishly from your side, leaning in to press open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

"great," sejin says. "let me know if you reach him."

you hang up, pocketing your phone.

"you're hot when you're breaking the rules like that," jay says against the column of your throat.

it takes all your willpower to push him away.

"there won't be any rules to break if i get fired," you say matter-of-factly. you lean in to kiss jay square on the lips.

"so you better get your ass out of here before that happens."

[m0ckest]

⚔️ Ophelia Castle

Remodel of Ophelia Villa in Willow Creek for Reaper Rewards gameplay. History & mystery emanate from this tri-story Gothic faux castle, commissioned by Victor & Gretle Goth as a home away from home. Inherited by Mortimer, the somewhat modernized but still eerie mansion now houses the current Goths—his parents, wife, and children. Upgrades include a chic kitchen makeover, an additional bedroom, a seance room & garden in the tower, and a sleek outdoor pool.

Type: Residential Size: 30x20 Price: §278.1k Location: Willow Creek Lot: Ophelia Villa Features:

Furnished for my Goth family

Includes bedroom for Cornelia & Gunther

Sleeping bag for Cass's best friend to stay over

Garden, chess table, computers, outdoor pool, etc.

No CC. TOOL used. Playtested & functional. Find it on the gallery @ m0ckest or tray files below.

⤷ simfileshare • patreon

@s4realtor @publicvanillabuilds 🖤

[twistmusings]

Character Analysis of the Twisted Wonderland Dorm Rooms - Heartslabyul

Not my usual content, exactly, but I thought this was interesting while I was researching for one of my upcoming posts!

Though the characters are in dormitories, they actually show really great characterization in the way they organize and lay out their rooms.

Long and with lots of images, so they are put under a cut.

Dorm Room Character Analysis Series

Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle has a lot of books. As in, so many that they aren't able to be contained to the larger bookshelf provided to the Dorm Leader. They have been stacked on top, as well as used to fill the smaller bookshelf to the left and stacked on top of that as well, and then also throughout the rest of the room. Little man is the highest ranking member of the library's readers club.

It is of note that Riddle's dorm is not as organized as you might think at first glance. I know a lot of people look at Riddle and oftentimes peg him as being the hyper-organized person with seems to be impossibly able to maintain how many tasks he has to balance. While that's not entirely untrue, and his room is far from messy, he does have books left open on his ottoman and stacked up on his nightstand that he was, most likely, reading in bed. His single framed art in his room is hung crookedly - and this is not a stylistic choice for the Heartslabyul dorm as some of the strange furniture. Both Deuce and Cater have similar wall decorations, but they are not hung crookedly.

Riddle is the only character to have a repeated motif of a broken heart in his decorations in Heartslabyul. Given what all we know about him and his history with his mother, this is fitting, if a little sad. Little details like this make me love to look at these rooms because you can see so much of how the designers considered the characters and their stories when designing their rooms.

Riddle also has a bouquet in a vase of Roses and White Lillies. While Red roses are a rather obvious motif throughout Heartslabyul, White Lillies are thought to symbolize purity, commitment, and rebirth. These are all strong character themes in Riddle's story.

Ace Trappola

We know that Ace likes card trick, as he learned them from his older brother, but I feel like it gets a little lost on a lot of the fandom that he likes magic tricks in general unless you pay close attention to his room card. He's got a magic wand, magic cups, and magic balls.

He likes basketball enough that he has an entire book dedicated to basketball and a hoop installed in his room.

He either has a spare dorm uniform jacket, or when he's in his room he takes off his uniform jacket and just walks around in the patterned vest and t-shirt. It's also possible, given that his brother was also assigned to Heartslabyul, that it's a hand-me-down jacket from his elder brother.

Ace has a card motif throughout his room, which is a cute touch considering he's based on one of the card soldiers. More than likely, it's because he does like card tricks and games. Of note, he also has a little callback to Deuce being his friend in his spade side table and the rest of his dorm as his rug features the Ace of Hearts, Spades, Diamonds, and Clubs.

Ace's desk doesn't seem to see a lot of use, considering that he has a tower of cards on it, which are notorious for being fragile and falling apart with too much movement. Given that we know in canon he doesn't like to study all that much, it makes sense - more than likely he built it while avoiding studying and then it hasn't been jostled because he hasn't really used his desk since.

Both Ace and Deuce (coming up) have not added personalized bedsheets to their bed as opposed to the rest of their dorm, and they're both freshmen,

As has been pointed out before, Deuce shares a room with Ace.

Deuce, of course, has magic wheel posters on his wall.

Deuce's desk is well used, and he has additional bookshelves hung on his wall. Deuce has notes sticking out of some of his books. He also seems to have a book on ducks and either cats/grim (it could be a book on magical beasts, but it's an interesting detail to add). - see addendum!

Deuce has a framed photo on his desk. I would guess this is probably a family photo of him and his mom, though I cannot confirm this.

Deuce has a jacket hanging on his wall, and while at first glance it might be easy to assume it's a PE Jacket or a Track Jacket, it doesn't match the NRC track uniform or PE uniform. This, actually, based on the cut, seems to be a motorcycle jacket, likely for riding magic wheels. It could also be something leftover from his delinquent days.

Cater's room is actually full of characterization, there are so many little details in his room it isn't funny.

To begin with, it seems like Cater's favorite color might be Orange, given that he's the only one in his dorm so far who has a noticable amount of it that breaks away from the normal Heartslabyul colors. This, of course, could be a design choice because Cater's hair is ginger, but consider that across the board it seems like quite a bit of thought was put into what goes into a character's room. Ace, for example, doesn't feature orange in the same way, and Deuce only features a small bit of blue in his rug. If someone was decorating a room, the likely reason to have so much of one color is because you really like that color, or because it matches the theme of a room. Since we know the latter isn't true, it's likely the former. Orange, symbolically, is often used to portray enthusiasm, agreeableness, and excitement when talking about color symbolism, and that tracks as that's the sort of image that Cater tends to display toward other people even if his own emotions are complex in canon.

Cater has a lot of hobbies in his room - which makes sense because canonically he does a lot of various hobbies. Cater is the sort of person who seems to be deeply into experimenting with who he is and who he wants to be.

Though Cater takes a lot of photos with his phone camera in the story, he also has what appears to be a DSLR camera.

He, of course, shows his love of music by having a small stereo, his guitar, and a pair of headphones next to his computer.

Speaking of Cater's computer, it takes up the majority of his desk, which is fitting for someone who wants to be an influencer.

Cater has a sweater at the ready on the back of his chair, leading me to believe he probably gets cold easily.

Cater also has a skateboard. I don't recall Cater ever talking about skateboarding in canon, but it's possible I missed it. Regardless, he has one - whether or not he can use it is a different story entirely.

Faces on everything. Similar to Ace, Cater's rug is a callback to all of his dormmates, though he also has a couple of emoji-like pillows/plushies. Emojis, of course, are a hallmark of digital communications so it fits with his character, though they are notably cheery and cute. I have to wonder how Cater's decor might be different if he was more honest about how he feels as opposed to playing a character most of the time.

Trey's room, similar to Cater, keeps in with having a notable color scheme with the color green. Again, this is the same color as his hair, however as was the reasoning was explained with Cater, this likely means that Green is Trey's favorite color. Green is a color associated with harmony, focus, efficiency and security.

Trey's room is notably more sparsely decorated than the other students. Most of the Heartslabyul cast have something - a photo hanging up, a unique piece of furniture, etc, however Trey really only has his hat stand. If you were to consider Cater one end of a spectrum that leans maximalist, Trey is the opposite, leaning much more minimalist.

It's also of note that Trey is probably the most organized person we've seen so far, even surpassing Riddle. His books are all kept in vertical rows, he has a pen holder on his desk, and he has a hat-stand to keep his hats. Everything in his room has a place, and there is no notable clutter.

Given that we know that Trey likes to bake, he probably doesn't spend much of his free time in his room, which is likely part of why it's so sparsely decorated outside the bed.

Similar to how Ace has a callback to Deuce, and how Deuce has a callback to Grim, Trey's rug is a clover that is divided into the shape of hearts, which is Riddle's motif, and a cute callback to them being childhood friends.

Addendums:

Several people have pointed things out in the comments, so I figured that I would go ahead and add them to this main post as well as they come in.

@margorako has pointed out that the jacket in Decue's room is indeed his jacket he wore during his delinquent days. As was featured in the Twisted Wonderland Manga. I thought it looked familiar, but this confirms that a) it's a magic wheel jacket, and b) that it is embroidered on the back. Great eye!

@eternalsnowfan02 mentioned that Cater does indeed skateboard, as is confirmed in his Union Jacket Birthday card when Jamil purchases him stickers for his skateboard. This means he is, in fact, a Skater Boy.

@xhazmia Pointed out that the book that features a head that appears to be Grim's Head is actually likely the hidden mickey for Deuce's room. Good eye! My vision is bad™ so I'm not usually the best for picking these out in the bedrooms in TWST. I managed to spot a few in the other rooms where they were pretty obvious though:

I have not managed to spot the one for Trey's room, but in looking closer I did notice something else.

This object on Trey's bookshelf is a glasses container, lending further to the notion that he's the most organized of the characters in Heartslabyul.

[bullet-prooflove]

Dean Winchester. Coat, Cheese, Flowers.

Tagging: @kmc1989 @gatefleet @private-jett @cosmic-psychickitty

Prequel to:

You, Me & Tennessee - Dean always returns to Tennessee.

On The Mountain - Dean wishes he was back on the Mountain with you.

Six Pack (NSFW) - You realise the man waiting for you isn't Dean Winchester.

Memories (NSFW) - Michael invades your home whilst you're away.

Sweet Dreams - Dean thinks about how this all started.

Deals With the Devil (feat: Michael)- You wake up with an angel in your bed.

Dean doesn’t intend to fall in love in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. It’s something that just happens after he starts hearing rumours about strange attacks up in the National Park.

You know the instant he turns up at the ranger station to investigate the circumstances that he’s a hunter. He has the same demeanour as the first one you met a few years ago, similar features. He’s surprised when you call him out on it, more so when you agree to take him up to the Fire Tower with you.

“There’s more to being a forest ranger up here isn’t there?” He had said, standing in front of the open weapons cabinet surveying the small arsenal. It’s certainly not the usual shit you see out here in the wilderness, silver bullets, long range rifles, military grade explosives. That’s just some of the interesting paraphernalia you have stored away in there.

“There’s lot of power up here on the mountain, it attracts things.” You had told him as you picked out a flare gun and a couple of blocks of C4. “Let’s just say this isn’t my first monster hunt.”

It’s refreshing being open with someone about the work he does. You spend the evening sharing a mini charcuterie board that you manage to pull together with some cheese, jerky and crackers, swapping stories about your exploits. The attraction starts then he thinks, because you’re pretty, funny and a complete badass. The shit you’ve dealt with on this mountain, it almost makes him quake in his boots. He wants to ask you how this all started for you but then you both hear the cries for help and a scratching at the door and it’s hunting time.  

It’s five hours later that you return to the Fire Tower, the both of you a little worse for wear. Your coat is shredded, there’s mud smeared across your cheek, your hair is a mess and the scent of motor oil clings to you from the C4. Dean isn’t in a much better state. He’s bleeding from a gash in his hairline and there’s a three inch slice up his forearm that you’ve managed to patch up with moss and strips from your ruined jacket.

It turns out there wasn’t just one Wendigo, there were two. It had been a fight to the death before you’d managed to trap them in the abandoned mine shaft they’d been using as a nest before activating the C4.

You’re both still hopped up on adrenaline when you get back to the Fire Tower, usually you’d take it out on the punch bag outside out then then Dean kisses you and you spend the next two hours working it out in other ways. You end up watching the sunrise together with a cup of coffee on the balcony, you wearing his t-shirt and nothing else.

He’s regretful when he has to leave. Usually he has no problem hitting and quitting but there’s reluctance in him because the two of you have shared something special up here, something he isn’t ready to let go of just yet.

“Call me alright?” He says as he writes his number on a post it note. “If you get in over your head and I promise you, I’ll come running.”

“I have a whole team of rangers who do the same sort of shit that I do, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” You tell him, tucking it into your trouser pocket.

He gets the message loud and clear. You’re strong, independent, you don’t need him, not really and somehow that makes Dean want you even more.

The next time he’s travelling through Tennessee, he ditches Sam and drops by Gatlinburg, just to check in, see how things are going on the mountain. He’s barely half way down Main Street when he catches sight of you stepping out of the florist with a bouquet of sunflowers, cradled in your arm. You’re wearing  jeans that hug your ass in a way that has him groaning and a brown leather jacket over an ACDC t-shirt.

You don’t react when the black Impala pulls up alongside of you, it isn’t until Dean calls your name that you realise someone’s trying to get your attention. You pull out your earbuds before tilting your head towards the wound down window, surprised to see Dean Winchester sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Hey.” Dean says with that handsome smile of his. “Need a ride?”

Love Dean? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[kaulitzily]

They call me Superman

PAIRINGS: Spider-Man Bill 2010 x female reader

GENRE: smut

SYNOPSIS: However, if listen closely, can hear muffled moans, growls and body slaps, resounding smacking, teeth clanking against the piercing iron ball and a quiet, quiet declaration of love.

WARNINGS: forced sex, rough sex, p in v

A/N: english is not my native language! The name doesn't fit the story a bit, because I decided to name it after a song by Superman (Eminem).

The sun was smoothly disappearing into the horizon, spreading the long rays of an orange sunset across, sinking into the sharp corners of skyscrapers, reflecting off glass surfaces and painfully cutting into the eyes with a bright warm light. The streets of London are extremely crowded. Long snakes of cars that stand in endless traffic jams, crowds of people walking outdoors, eating in local bakeries or enjoying the nature of parks.

You were twirling a fresh newspaper in your hands, reading the same headline over and over again. A bold inscription on gray paper reads: “An unknown man in a mask saved our city again! The fight that took place between Spider-Man and Vulture took place in the central clock tower of Big Ben. A lot of damage was done to the building.”

The lines cling to the soul, forcing you to hold your breath for a moment, and then take a deep breath. It was as if there wasn't enough oxygen in your chest, so you went to the panoramic window and opened it wide, letting a cold stream of wind into the apartment. It was already rapidly getting dark outside, the whole of London was in the cold shadow of the night, streetlights alternately began to illuminate the path of passers-by.

You sat down on an armchair, grabbing a color photograph from the coffee table with a masked man who gracefully sat on the roof of one of the buildings. You took this photo a long time ago, but you still didn't dare send it to the press, because it became unpleasant from the realization that this guy would be slandered in the future, as always.

Suddenly, a rustle was heard from the window. You frowned and walked over to him, resting your palms on the windowsill. There was no one there, but your hands slipped, and you almost fell out the window, but someone else's strong arms grabbed you tightly by the waist, pressing your back against your elastic chest. You sighed in surprise, grabbing the savior by the venous hands. Looking down, you saw a dark blue fabric with a strange and rather familiar pattern.. Is that really it?..

A sob escapes from your chest by itself, and you immediately push away from the rescuer. Of course, it was none other than Spider-Man himself. The mesh of the "spider web" on his suit shone beautifully from the light of the street lamps. His sharp features cast bulky shadows, and there was a grin on his plump lips. You stumbled back, eyes wide. There was a photo on the floor that you had been looking at earlier. He squatted down and picked up the photo, letting out a mocking laugh. His gaze was directed entirely at you, and his eyes flashed unkindly.

“It's not a bad photo, is it?” His low voice made me start up. Right now you felt like a real prey in the hands of a predator.

You swallowed hard, a sticky ball of saliva, watching him intently, afraid to move once again.

“Come on, why are you acting like we don't know each other?” A voice came to your ear, and you screamed, recoiling from the hero who suddenly appeared next to you. He laughed and grabbed you by the waist, roughly and closely pressing you against his hot body. And you knew why and why he came to you. After all, it was you who turned him over to the press, photographed him from under the silence and allowed people to slander him. Maybe he's taking revenge like that. Rather, it's not possible, but that's for sure.

You tried your best to resist him, push him away from you and scream with all your might, not sparing your voice, but by doing so, on the contrary, you amused the young man, he laughed and wrapped your long hair around his fist, forcing you to throw your head back. Your heart was pounding, your blood was pounding in your veins, and you were extremely short of breath. Your head was spinning from the imbalance, it felt like it was all unreal, like it was a damn dream. You desperately wanted to push Spider-Man away, but your body was shackled by fear, and you were unable to move. Probably the only thing that kept you from falling was your nocturnal guest, who held your waist and hair tightly.

You silently closed your eyes, squinting and waiting for the subsequent punishment, trying to focus on controlling your own breathing, because at this rate you could easily have hyperventilated your lungs, at least. A strong hand moved higher, circling your chest slowly and gently, massaging your tense shoulders. It seemed to you that his touch left hot traces on your body, burning you to ashes. You felt a whole range of emotions that fell on your fragile shoulders in the form of male hands, but you were distracted from your thoughts by the low voice of the hero.

“Come on, don't be afraid, baby,” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath burning your earlobe. “I really liked your photos. You're probably a professional here, aren't you?” Bill grins, continuing to stroke your girlish shoulders and collarbones with one hand, holding your coiled hair tightly with the other, forcing you to tilt your head to the side, revealing a beautiful, neat neck.

Your body was shaking either from fear or pleasure. Your lips were pursed into a thin line, you finally stopped trying to escape. You began to concentrate on the guy's stinging touches, completely throwing all unnecessary thoughts out of your head. Your body was burning with desire, and you were trembling all over. The young man leads you to a chest of drawers and makes you bend down.

“Look in the mirror. Do you like what you see, mm?“ The hero's low, hoarse voice whispers in your ear, his lips glide over your earlobe and neck, biting and sucking, pulling your thin girlish skin into his mouth.

You stare intently into the reflection, and there you see a brunette who is barely standing on her feet, leaning weakly against the white wood of the chest of drawers, her hair is in disarray, her face is red, and her chest is heaving heavily. Strong, venous hands glide over her chest and waist, smoothly tracing all the curves of her body. He playfully hooks the hem of her T-shirt, unhurriedly lifting it higher, scratching her ribs with his short nails, kissing her neck..

Soon, a T-shirt with a print of some German rock band flies back, by a lucky chance falling neatly on the bed.

“Wow..” A faint chuckle can be heard from the guest. He smoothly outlines the outline of a red lace bra, licks his own lips and plays with the tongue piercing ball, tapping it against his fangs, moving it from side to side. Surely something unthinkable is going on in his head.

He takes out your polaroid camera from somewhere and takes a picture. You immediately start up, perplexed, trying to free yourself from the guy's hands, but he just clicks and thrusts his hips, roughly pushing against your ass, creating an imitation of a push. It made you collapse against a white tree and groan.

Bill, in turn, grins and shakes the photo, making the picture appear. His hand soothingly strokes your thigh, clad in a plaid skirt.

“Well, well, baby.. You have my pictures too, don't you? I'll keep this as a keepsake..” The photo immediately disappears somewhere, and Spider-Man turns all his attention back to you. “Remind me where we're staying..?” he says playfully and abruptly lowers both straps of your bra, making you cry out.

“Shh.. Well, what didn't I see there? Although.. You'll probably look a lot better than the ones I've already seen..” Bill's fingers deftly unfasten the lace element, throwing it away. His lips press against your delicate back skin, biting and licking, making you collapse with your chest against the cold surface of the chest of drawers. The hero slides his hot palms over your bare thighs, crawling under the worthless fabric of skirt, mercilessly scratching the skin of legs, rising higher, higher, higher..

You make a squeak and jump in someone else's arms when calloused fingers touch the most intimate, pushing back the edge of your panties...

You don't even notice how nimble fingers take turns penetrating you, driving deep and rough, contrasting with slow and gentle thrusts. He shamelessly pushes your hot walls apart, doing something incredibly obscene that makes your legs cramp and your knees tremble. His thumb simultaneously caresses the bead of your clitoris in circular movements, forcing you to moan loudly and continuously. Your shoulders were covered with red marks, and Spider-Man was whispering something very vulgar in your ear, constantly touching and squeezing your soft, rounded breasts with his free hand.

Something elastic is openly poking into your lower back, which made your cheeks flush with shame. Bill removes his hand from your chest, hurriedly and impatiently trying to get rid of the belt plaque on the loose cut of his jeans. You decide to help, and putting your hands behind your back, you quickly relieve the young man of the heavy burden of punk jeans. You wrap your manicured hands around him through the fabric of his boxers, and he even chuckled at the interesting contrast of his white underwear and your black nails, but your hand squeezing his cock immediately dispelled all the notes of mischief, from which he throws his head back along with his mohawk, moaning for a long time and stopping the movement of his fingers inside you for a moment. He growls and pulls off his boxers with a jerk, lifting your skirt and leaving a slap on your smooth buttocks, which made you scream. His fingers sloshed out of your warm interior to your disappointed whimper, but something much more substantial immediately rushes in to replace them.

The venous penis of a young man of considerable size fits completely inside you, you whimper and moan, moving your hips, wanting to feel it in action. And Bill lets you. He grabs you roughly by the hips and begins a smooth movement, staring intently at the reflection and grinning.

His organ is engulfed by the unbearable narrowness and warmth of your body, he growls and pushes into you rougher, sharper. You painfully bang your hips against the side of the chest of drawers, and the young man decides to make you arch so that it doesn't hurt so much.

His balls slap against your bulging ass, his fingers leave red marks on your delicate skin, and you whimper, giving back. Bill tilts his head back, crystal clear beads of sweat slowly trickle from his forehead, stroking his sharp cheekbones and jaw, as well as trickling down his clearly visible adam's apple and muscular chest with dark dots of nipples. His abs are tense, and a wild desire arises in the area of his pubis to fuck your soul out. To get back at you for making him look like a villain in front of the whole of London, for daring to take pictures of him from under the silence, for being so fucking beautiful..

He fucks you roughly and continuously, making you scream and squirm, clench your own hands and leave bloody crescents of nails on your palms.

“Oh my God!” You're screaming, clutching Bill's big hand tightly in your hand as he presses his prominent chest against your back. He grins.

“God? Huh.. They usually call me a street bully,” He roughly punches you into a chest of drawers, hissing in your ear through his teeth: “Or a looter, a murderer, a vandal, a monster.” His cock slides a lot harder and deeper, as if trying to get back at you for all the labels they put on him because of your fault. “Do you know who came up with all this? In the next newspaper, should I expect the headlines to say "god" instead of all that filth, huh? Tell me..” Kaulitz's hips are hammering more often, the thrusts are becoming more and more erratic. You come with a deep, long moan, unable to stand this guy's rhythm any longer. He quickly slips out of you, roughly bringing you to your knees.

“Will you apologize properly, baby?” Bill gently strokes your head, pushing you, who has not yet had time to recover from orgasm, into action. You obediently open your mouth, ready to take it completely. Your hot tongue slides over the flushed head of his cock, collecting the remnants of your own semen. You play with the tip of your tongue on his urethra, making him moan loudly and squeeze your hair. You circle his venous penis, not missing a single irregularity, passing deeper into your hot narrow throat. Bill licks his lips, shaking convulsively. He wrapped your long hair in his fist and began to roughly fuck your mouth, moving his hips. You stroke his thighs, scratch with your long nails, take him deeper.

After a couple of deep thrusts, Spider-Man pours into your mouth, looks at you through his fox squint from top to bottom, arrogantly watching as you swallow everything without a trace, finally running your tongue along his entire length, collecting the remaining layer of semen on the surface.

“Good girl..” He breathes heavily and swallows the saliva that has accumulated in his mouth, picks you up by the hair and kisses you wetly, deeply and passionately, after a while he pulls away and grins. “What about the second round?”

The sun has long since disappeared into the horizon, spreading the long rays of an orange sunset across, drowning in the sharp corners of skyscrapers, reflecting off glass surfaces and painfully cutting into the eyes with a bright warm light.

The streets of London are completely empty.

There are no longer those long snakes of cars that stood in endless traffic jams, there are no crowds of people who walked in the fresh air, eating in local bakeries or enjoying the nature of parks. Everything was replaced by bright signs of clubs and restaurants, light from the windows of multi-storey apartments and the rays of a large yellow moon. Fast motorcycles and the sound of water from fountains can be heard on the street. However, if listen closely, can hear muffled moans, growls and body slaps, resounding smacking, teeth clanking against the piercing iron ball and a quiet, quiet declaration of love.