#and at least it’s not having me know the names of the steps

[poisonf0rest]

Between Flames and Shadows

♱⋅── sylus x reader x rafayel

♱⋅── about: Rafayel agreed to smuggle you into the N109 Zone, unwittingly thrusting you into danger and the arms of an even more dangerous man, Sylus— who you promised your soul to long ago. Just as you had promised Rafayel your heart. And now they both want what you have so cruelly denied them.

♱⋅── word count: 10.6k

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, threesome, pwp, enemies to lovers, jealousy, bondage, exhibisionism, voyeurism, size kink (sylus is big), mating bites/bond, double penetration, minor breeding kink, another horribly nasty duo~

art credit to @/sakimenz on x, dividers by @cafekitsune

It’s been six days, fourteen hours, and three minutes since you’ve last contacted Rafayel. 

Not that he’s been counting.

Again, he flips his phone around, scrolling through dozens of notifications, and not bothering to read a single one as he fails yet again to find your name among them. A scowl, and he tosses his phone across the couch. Insane doesn’t begin to describe the spiral Rafayel has descended into since you infiltrated the N109 Zone— since he reluctantly agreed to set you up as bait and watched you get taken away. 

Since he made a deal with the devil on your behalf. 

“The Nest, you actually got it? How?” 

“You doubted me, cutie?”

“Doubt?�� You snort, rolling your eyes as you yank Rafayel closer by the collar, gaze flickering from his lips, eyes, and back again. Leaning in closer, you wait until Rafayel’s eyes nearly flutter shut before pulling back, snatching the invitation from his hands with a smirk. “Never, fishie.”

Rafayel now wishes you had. Wishes he finally kissed you, wishes he never let you go. At least, not alone. 

The memories and regrets tug at him so violently that he can’t stand it, every “what if” fear blending in with shattered memories of you dying before him in lives past, bloody and heart torn from your chest as he’s doomed to chase after you again and again and again. 

Rafayel stands abruptly, chair falling back with a bang. 

Fuck it, he’s going after you. 

The damned N109 Zone never changes. 

Different venues, different gang names, different “world-ending” weapons. But even after several millennia, the greed and stupidity of humankind remains forever stagnant and forever their greatest weakness. That, and the nauseating smell of gunpowder and whiskey. 

It all makes Rafayel’s stomach roll, and he thumbs at his tie, slacking against his neck before he snatches a glass of champagne from a waiter. Unsurprisingly he does recognize a handful of faces, some from his own gallery exhibitions, others as past targets, or grandchildren of someone he used to know. Not that any of them mattered.

He walked down a hallway filled with Protocores leading up to the banquet hall, and yet strangely enough every last one was bought for an exorbitant amount, even the smallest fragment that barely emitted any kind of energy. What kind of idiot…

Rafayel’s frown deepens, and he shoots down yet another glass, moving from champagne to whiskey as he winces from the burn. 

Then, Rafayel spots you.

You’re alive. 

You’ve alive and you look absolutely fucking gorgeous, prowling across the auction in a cocktail dress, fabric dark enough that it only shimmers a deep red when you dance from spotlight to spotlight. 

Before he even realizes it, he’s running. Trying and failing for it to look as natural as possible,, slamming into a waiter and mumbling out an apology as he rushes to your side, nearly dashing onto the dance floor when the shadows seem to lunge– growing and shifting and laughing in an ancient language Rafayel can barely understand as something else steps out from them. And wraps a clawed hand around your waist.

Another man, infuriatingly tall and reeking of the sky and ashes, his hair bleached the same pale color, leans down to whisper something into your ear as you laugh. Laugh. 

And gods new and old, Rafayel sees red. 

Rafayel’s breath catches, chest tightening with a fury so raw it feels like it might crack him open. The din of laughter and clinking glasses becomes a dull roar in his ears, drowned out by the pounding of his heart. He barely registers the heat raging down his veins, a warning that his restraint is fraying faster than he can piece it together.

An uproar of murmuring steals your attention away from Sylus, and you finally allow your fake smile to drop. Only for your jaw to fall entirely as you see Rafayel standing only a couple of meters away, violent white flames licking against his fingertips as other guests begin to gather. 

What the fuck is he doing here. 

“Rafayel.” Your voice cuts through him, hissing in warning. But the sound of it— alive, steady, and wholly unimpressed— does nothing to soothe him. If anything, it stokes the fire.

Sylus turns slowly, his lips curling into a lazy smile. When his eyes land on Rafayel, something flickers in the depths of his right pupil. “Oh?” he drawls, voice dripping with amusement. “Looks like you picked up a stray, kitten.”

The nickname grates against your nerves, but it’s nothing compared to the way Rafayel reacts. His flames flare brighter, casting eerie shadows across the room as his fists clench. “Take your hand off her.” 

More patrons are beginning to notice. 

Sylus’s grip on your waist doesn’t waver. Instead, he tilts his head, “Her? Oh, you must mean my companion for tonight.” He shifts slightly, leaning down as if to make a point, his hands brushing against the small of your back, right where the silk meets bare skin. “I think you have it mistaken though, she’s the one who practically dragged me here. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Your pulse spikes, a mix of anger and frustration coursing through you. You force yourself to step between them, planting a hand firmly against Rafayel’s chest before he can close the distance. Thankfully, it makes the flames sputter down to a dull glow in his palms. 

“Stop,” you hiss. “What the hell are you doing here, Rafayel?”

His eyes lock onto yours, wild and burning with an intensity that makes it impossible to look away. “I came for you,” he snaps as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, congratulations,” you snort, “You found me.” Glancing over your shoulder, you catch the glint of recognition in the eyes of more than a few guests. “And so has everyone else I’ve been trying to avoid.”

Rafayel doesn’t flinch, his gaze darting briefly to Sylus before returning to you. “I don’t care about them,” he mutters, brows furrowing. “I care about you. I never should have left you, let you go. Come back with me.”

Before you can even respond a deep chuckle cuts through, Sylus stepping forward as he tucks you into his side and reaches around to place a hand on Rafayel’s shoulder. Pinning you between them. “Touching. But you should know better than to interrupt our business, artist.”

Rafayel’s flames reignite instantly, searing white-hot as he shoves Sylus’s hand off his shoulder. “I already told you to get your hands off her,” he growls, stepping forward, entire body radiating heat as he’s mere inches from Sylus’s face.

“Or what?” Sylus taunts smoothly, something in his eye flashing with amusement. “You’ll set this whole place on fire? Very subtle. I can see why you’re such a popular target.”

Target? You linger on it longer than you should've, pieces about Rafayel’s surprising knowledge about the N109 Zone and Sylus’s insistence on resonating as your partner begins to swirl around again. That is, until you physically feel the heat from Rafayel’s flames begin to char into the wooden floorboards. 

“Stop it, both of you!” Snapping, both of their heads whip down to you as you struggle to shove them apart. “You’re drawing attention. Do you want to blow this mission completely?”

“Mission?” Rafayel scoffs, his gaze snapping back to you. “If this was a mission, why would you agree to work with him?” He tilts his chin to Sylus, who simply shrugs, shadows flickering and rising at his back. Shit. 

“Her choice, really,” Sylus interjects, voice dripping with false sincerity. “Not that I blame her. All bark and no bite, aren’t you, puppy?”

Rafayel goes deathly still.

So Sylus allows himself to step closer, chest now pressing up against your bare back, the gesture irritatingly casual. Intimate. “It must be exhausting,” he continues, “Running around, chasing after scraps of attention. Does she even notice? Or is this just another case of unrequited devotion?”

“Say that again,” Rafayel growls, flames licking up his palm.

Sylus grins wider, clearly enjoying every second. Enjoying his reactions. “Oh, I’m sorry, did that strike a nerve? You must be used to following orders by now, so tell me, does she ever let you off leash, or do you only bark when commanded?”

“Sylus,” you snap again, cutting off whatever retort Rafayel has ready. You glance around, realizing the murmuring crowd has turned into a full-fledged audience, their gazes sharp and curious. “You’re both acting like children. The target—”

The sound of shattering glass cuts you off.

You whip your head around, just in time to see a hooded figure perched atop an overturned table. A small, cylindrical case glints in their hand, and your blood turns cold as you feel the overwhelming pulse of an unleashed Aether Core. 

“Run!”

The word barely leaves your mouth before the world explodes.

A deafening boom shatters through the venue, blast wave throwing you backward. The force knocks the air from your lungs, glass and debris raining down like jagged confetti. You hit the ground hard, pain shooting through your side as the heat of the explosion sears your skin.

Through the haze of smoke and ringing in your ears, you catch fragmented images: chandeliers crashing to the floor, tables splintered, and guests scrambling for cover and weapons as gunshots ring out.

Sylus is a blur of movement, his shadows coiling and slashing through the chaos. Rafayel is kneeling beside you, flames erupting instinctively to shield both of you, looking down with wide eyes.

“Get—” you try to shout, but another powerful wave of the protocore squeezes your heart, and your vision blurs as you heave for breath.

The last thing you see is Sylus stepping over Rafayel’s crumpled form, hauling him over one shoulder before beginning to carry you, too.

Then, nothing.

It’s cold. 

The explosion. The Aether Core. Sylus. Rafayel.

A gasp tears from your lips as you jolt awake, your body reacting before your mind catches up. The world spins in protest as you try and sit up, chest heaving like it’s trying to claw back air that’s been ripped away. Spinning, the world is still spinning as control of your body returns to you—pain prickles along your limbs, your skin freezing against the stiff leather beneath you.

Blinking hard, you push up on trembling arms, the faint scent of dust and something metallic clogging your nose. The ache in your skull is relentless, pulse hammering against your temples. You’re not in the banquet hall anymore. There’s no fire, no rubble, no echoing gunshots. 

Instead, shadows claw at the corners of a room you don’t recognize. Empty walls of an office greet you, dark and seemingly abandoned with an unlit fireplace, heavy drapes smothering the windows, and a lavish seating area you’re in the midst of with a couch, coffee table, and—

Someone’s there.

Slumped in a leather chair near the fireplace, head tilted at an unnatural angle, is… “Rafayel.”

You call out to him in a gasp, a raw mix of relief and dread. His head hangs low, chin brushing his chest, his arms seemingly tied behind his back. For one desperate, fleeting moment, you think he’s asleep. But the light catches on something wrong, something warping along his body. 

Shadows.

They slither down his now bare chest and around his legs, dark, writhing tendrils of unnatural energy that pulse and coil, anchoring him to the chair. They’re the only thing keeping his unconscious form upright, taut and unyielding, glowing faintly at the edges with an unmistakably familiar red glow. 

“Relax, he’s not dead.”

The voice is a smooth drawl, and your head whips around to find a heavy desk in the center of the office, and of course, the origin of the voice seated at the head of the desk, arms crossed as he watches you with an amused smirk.

“What did you do, Sylus?”

Your hands instinctively go for your guns but only brush against empty holsters instead. Weaponless, you stumble off the couch, placing yourself between Rafayel and the still-seated man as you glare down at him. 

Sylus doesn’t even flinch. If anything, your anger only seems to amuse him further. 

“We had a chat while you were sleeping.” With a sigh, he rises from his chair, every movement exuding practiced ease as he encircles the desk, making his way to you. A crow circling a corpse. “Turns out you’ve been keeping more from me than I thought. That, and your memory truly is terrible.”

Sylus stops just short of you, tilting his head back as his eyes roam your face, his grin growing sharper, fang peaking out. “Not one but two immortals? You certainly are greedy, aren’t you, kitten?”

Your stomach twists. 

Nothing he’s saying makes sense, but the words cut into your gut regardless. Like a broken promise, like an old wound. “Let him go, Sylus. Now.”

But Sylus doesn’t move. He stands there, tapping a hand to his chin, studying you with a look that makes your heart throb, his right eye beginning to glow a crimson red. Amusement flickers behind his eyes, but there’s something else, too. Something darker.

“Twice,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his gaze slipping briefly to Rafayel’s bound form. “Twice, you’ve cursed those who thought themselves unstoppable. Twice, you’ve bound your heart and soul.” His eyes snap back to yours, glinting with a sharp, cruel edge. “Not that you’d remember.”

Almost like he’s in pain. You stiffen, breath catching in your throat.

“Humans,” Sylus continues, the word dripping with scorn. “So quick to lay claim to what they desire, so insatiably greedy.” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, heavy with mockery, hands ghosting down your side as you shiver despite yourself. “And you, sweetie, are no different.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A chuckle, “Of course you don’t.”

Sylus fights the urge to laugh. No wonder the god of the ocean itself followed you around like a lovesick puppy— Sylus was hardly taking it any better, but at least he just had the self-control to hide his obsession.

A strained groan echoes through the room, low and guttural. Your head snaps toward Rafayel, the sight of his head lifting weakly making your heart lurch. His hair is matted with sweat, and when he looks up, his sunset eyes are furious blue, darker than the ocean itself, narrowing to slits as the shadows twist tighter around his body. 

There’s a moment, just a heartbeat, where you see something raw in his gaze. Relief. Desperation. And then, it’s gone, replaced by a scowl that’s as sharp as any blade.

“Well, look who’s awake,” Sylus hums, and you nearly collapse in relief, turning to rush to Rafayel’s side when something stops you halfway. 

Two simple threads of shadow chain you down, dragging you back to Sylus as the other binds your hands behind you, unaffected by your sudden thrashing. In faux comfort, Sylus curls an arm around your waist, pulling you into his embrace as the other rests against your ribs, drawing comforting circles against your tattered dress—the once pristine silk only just gifted to you destroyed with gashes and holes from the explosion.

Rafayel’s lip curls, his voice a growl despite the rasp of exhaustion. “Should’ve known a snake would take a deal and twist it. This is your plan? This is what you call a friendly competition?” 

Sylus tilts his head, his smirk turning predatory. “Careful, puppy. You’ll get your turn, I never specified who went first.”

Silence. 

You feel like you’re playing catch-up, each word only adding to the confusion as the tension grows thick enough to choke on.

And then Rafayel laughs. His entire body shakes with it, head thrown back against the chair he’s still bound to, laughing and laughing until he’s all but spitting flames. They erupt from his palms, climbing down the marble floors, vibrant pinks and reds curling into empty air as shadows dance to put them out. 

Sylus doesn’t release you, though his fingers twitch against your ribs as the flames light up the room. His smirk falters just slightly, replaced by something harder to read—a flicker of recognition, perhaps, or respect.

Rafayel’s laughter fades, his head rolling forward again as if it took everything in him to laugh at all. When his eyes meet Sylus’s, they’re cold and dark, an abyss in the ocean.

“You really think this will win her back?” Rafayel spits, tremors of barely-contained fury ripping through him as he struggles against the tendrils that hold him. The shadows only tighten in response. His glare cuts to you, begging. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a liar, a snake. All those ugly cold-blooded beasts do is lie.”

Sylus snorts, hugging you closer as the low scoop back of your dress causes your skin to brush against his chest. “Lie? Are you always this dramatic?” He tilts his head, mocking. “Perhaps you should’ve asked about the rules before we began. Backing out already?”

Flames spark from Rafayel’s body again, this time uncontrolled, swirling in frantic spirals like an inferno around him. His body trembling against the leather. “Release me then! Let me go first, let me show you she doesn’t need you. She’ll remember me.”

“You’re awfully bold for someone tied to a chair.” 

Sylus leans down to graze your neck with his lips, tilting his head like he’s savoring the sight of Rafayel’s frustration as he whispers into your ear just loud enough for him to hear. “Your puppy never stops barking, does he.”

Rafayel takes the bait, fire searing through wood, flickering in and out. “She’s not yours to take,” he seethes, shadows and flames casting violent shadows across the room. “Not yours.”

This is beyond ridiculous. 

You try and jerk away from Sylus, forgetting about the shadowy tendrils also holding you in place. Instead, you settle for pushing Sylus back with your bound arms, glaring at the both of them bickering like feral cats once again. “Both of you, stop! Whatever grudge you have with each other, leave me out of it!”

Sylus chuckles, the sound low and unnerving. “Leave you out of it? Oh, kitten, you’ve always been at the very center. You just don't remember yet.” His hand slips from your ribs to lift your chin, tilting your face toward his as he gazes down at you with something almost… reverent. “But don’t worry, we’ll help you remember everything.”

His words send a pang through you, a strange and unbidden ache that threatens to consume you from the inside out. You’re left suspended between them, chest heaving, mind a whirlwind of confusion and doubt. And yet, somewhere deep inside, you can feel it—an echo of something ancient and unshakable, something you don’t understand. Something they both seem to know.

That alone seems to calm Rafayel, at least, for long enough that Sylus can bind his hands together, unable to conjure any more flames before gagging him with a veil of shadows too. Something that immediately sends the man into a frenzy as he curses and squirms against the restraints. 

“What are– Sylus, release him right now—”

“Relax.” You’re also being hoisted higher up into the air, feet barely touching the floor as your arms strain above your head. “He’s simply upholding his part of the deal. Besides, he’s not the one who deserves to be punished tonight. That, sweetie, would be you.”

But before you can rebuke, a huff of hot breath caresses your neck, Sylus humming against your ear as you shiver involuntarily. “You can’t blame me. After all, you’re quite cruel to curse both of us and then go about forgetting entirely.” 

Sylus drags his hand down your ribs, thumb catching a rip in your dress as he tears it all the way down until his fingers reach the bare plush of your thigh. His grip tightens, and your sudden moan startles you nearly as much as it does the other two, shaking and needy at barely a touch, your body pulled upwards by Sylus’s shadows as you’re now balanced precariously between his hold and the brush of your toes against the floor. 

“Tell me, does it hurt? That part of you that used to belong to us?”

The sensation is so foreign, the warmth and gentleness of his touch such a contrast to the cruelty he's displayed, but your traitorous body welcomes the contrast, leaning into his palm. “What are you talking about?” Your voice is shaky, unconvincing even to yourself. “I don’t—”

“Oh, you don’t remember,” Sylus cuts in, mockery dripping from his words. “But your body does. That’s the funny thing about bonds, darling. They don’t care about your memories. They care about promises. The ones you made. The ones you broke.”

You can feel the heat of Rafayel's gaze on you, watching as Sylus slowly runs his hand up your leg, the heat of his touch deliciously contrasted by the cool iron of his rings, making you shudder as they circle the tender flesh of your inner thigh. You fall forward, pulling against the restraints, unable to resist the urge to push into his touch.

Behind you, Rafayel lets out a muffled roar, thrashing against his binds. His fury burns through the room, flames licking at the air around him, casting wild, flickering light that illuminates the shadows writhing against his skin. Even gagged, his expression a storm of conflict, boring into Sylus with a fire that refuses to be smothered.

“See how desperate he gets?” Sylus laughs, his breath hot against your ear. “Always so loud, so needy. So quick to burn himself, like that’ll make you notice him more.”

Rafayel’s muffled snarl grows louder, and the flames around him surge, threatening to overwhelm the shadows keeping him bound. He jerks forward, the chair groaning under his strength, his entire body trembling with the effort.

Sylus smirks, unbothered, even amused. “Careful, puppy. Else I might think you’re trying to cheat.”

You wrench yourself away from Sylus’s grip as much as the shadows will allow, suddenly aware of how exposed you are with your torn dress.

“Cheat at what?” Thrashing, you try to slip from the restraints, which only has Sylus’s Evol squeezing tighter, pulling your wrists from behind your back to up in the air.  “Let us go, now.”

“Feisty,” Sylus purrs, hand moving from your thigh to your jaw. Squeezing your cheeks between his forefinger and thumb, he wrenches your gaze off Rafayel, forcing your neck to crane up to look him in the eye as he presses up against your back.

“That’s always been your problem, hasn’t it? Always resisting, even when you don’t know why.” His lips quirk into a wicked smile. “In that case, say no.”

And then Sylus’s lips are on yours, warm and insistent.

Your eyes widen, a muffled sound of surprise rising in your throat as the warmth of his kiss spreads across your lips. It’s instinct, the way your body immediately leans into his embrace, desire and confusion tearing at your chest. 

The logical part of you wants to pull away, but oh, something deep inside you sings so sweetly at his touch, making your mind fuzzy and body hot as Sylus tilts your head to the side. The angle has your neck screaming in protest, trapped between Sylus’s possessive grip on your neck and his chest, yet you swear it’s the dichotomy between the pain of his grasp and the devotion of his lips that has you addicted.  

This close, his scent is entirely intoxicating, a heady mix of spices and smoke, breath hot against your mouth, his lips surprisingly soft, gentle against yours. He doesn’t rush, a low, contented noise humming in his chest as you deepen the kiss, already licking against his bottom lip as you crane your neck for more, grinding back against him as best you can with your arms now bound above you. 

You don’t even realize you’re doing it. 

The bond with Sylus purrs in realization, and he has to summon up every ounce of strength and control left to break away, groaning into your skin as his lips trailing along your jaw, down to your neck, teeth grazing every spot that makes you shiver, and yet refusing to sink in. Refusing to mark you as his own. Not yet. 

When Sylus finally pulls back, you're panting, flushed and breathless. An absolute mess. 

"You're fussy, kitten," he murmurs, panting, his large frame practically surrounding you, heaving as you stumble forward under the weight. "But if you want more, you need to answer me."

"I don’t understand.” You’re panting, and fuck, it’s hard to breathe. ”What does this have to do with…"

The hand not busy laying claim to your throat travels down to meet the rip in your dress, brushing across your bare ribs. You feel Sylus smile into the nape of your neck as you moan at the icy burn of his rings caressing the flushed skin of your chest, his hand large enough to cup the entirety of the poor, sensitive flesh. 

That is, until his touch retreats entirely, the searing heat of his presence replaced with an empty chill. 

“Yes or no?” Sylus’s voice is low, rough, and commanding, but there’s a crack in his tone that gives him away. “I need to hear it, kitten. I need to hear you say you want this.”

You groan, head lolling forward, feeling the last shreds of your resolve crumble. It’s almost too much to bear, shadows coiled around you like velvet chains, holding you upright even as your strength falters. 

Why were you even fighting in the first place? The thought slips from your grasp, fleeting as a wisp of smoke. You can barely recall why you’re mad at them, at Sylus, at Rafayel. The failed mission, the target slipping away…it all feels inconsequential now, eclipsed by the molten desire in your chest. Did you not want them both? Did you not dream of this? Did you not die for this? 

The flicker of Sylus’s red eye pierces through the dark, pulling you out of your own thoughts and anchoring you back to this reality as you feel the rumble of his laugh vibrate through your chest even though he’s no longer touching you. You wish he were. 

“Then say it.” You hear him step closer, but still refusing to touch you. “Say you want this, or else it stops.”

And then it’s back.

A violent surge tears through your chest, flashes of color—of memories—fluttering by in a tempest, in an unintelligible inferno as the burning within your heart returns tenfold. Images flash too fast to comprehend, but the feelings linger: love so deep it swallowed you whole, betrayal like a knife twisting in your ribs, desire that turned your world to ash. 

They ripple through you, each thread of memory, each red string of fate tying itself tighter to your soul.

You’re gasping, trying to grip your chest as it feels like your heart is going to burst from your chest, desperate for relief. But Sylus’s Evol makes it impossible to move, snaking down your body instead as it anchors you against the pain attempting to seize your entire being. 

You want them. 

You need them. 

After all, they were always yours.

"Yes."

The word tumbles out, barely audible, a whispered confession that feels like release and surrender all at once.

Control returns to you in waves, your body trembling as if it’s been dragged from the brink of collapse. Your thighs quiver, and even the hold of Sylus’s Evol isn’t enough to stop the shuddering. Everything burns. Gods, everything burns. 

Behind you, Sylus makes a low sound that only makes the shaking worse. It’s raw, guttural—a noise you feel rather than hear. His control is unraveling, and for the first time, you realize he’s as close to breaking as you are.

He’s trembling.

Even with his iron control, even with his Evol wrapping around you like armor, he can’t stop the way his fingers hover just shy of your skin, tracing the curve of your neck, your spine, your waist, like he’s memorizing you. And he’s close—too close. 

His breath is hot against the nape of your neck, and you can feel the tension radiating from him, maintaining that invisible barrier as he replays your ‘yes’ in his mind again and again and again.

“What was that?” His voice is a rough whisper, but the challenge is clear. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Yes!” You nearly yell it this time, humiliation burning across your cheeks, but it’s dwarfed by the heat of your desire. ”I said yes.”

Sylus lets out a broken sound, somewhere between a groan and a growl, and every reason he’s had to hold back shatters. His Evol ripples, shadows weaving around your body in a dark embrace. Hands fly to your hips, a palm squeezing your thigh as your left leg is lifted completely off the ground. 

Sylus inhales you in greedy mouthfuls, lips dancing down your neck, your shoulder blade, nipping into the skin, reverent and desperate in equal measure. This new position was beyond vulnerable, Sylus forcing your quivering thigh higher and higher until it presses into your chest, the crude slice in your dress providing absolutely no resistance or chance for modesty, allowing everything to be exposed to the chill of the office’s midnight air. 

And to the hungry gaze of the man seated before you. 

"So needy, kitten. Are you finally remembering?” Sylus coos against your ear, but his smirk is fixed on Rafayel, looking directly at him as his free hand trails down between the slits of fabric, toying with the lace band of your panties, long, rough fingers slipping under them in teasing circles. “Beg.”

“What?” You hate the way your voice quivers as Sylus teases your cunt through the thin, already-drenched fabric. “You’re out of your—ah, fucking—mind, Sylus.”

“Quite the opposite. After all, we have an audience to impress.” A sudden slap against your clothed pussy has you moaning, jolting against your restraints, futile, and yet the disturbance is just enough for the left strap of your dress to slip off your shoulder, exposing the swell of your breast just shy of the nipple that was no doubt already hard enough to peek through the sheer silk all on its own. 

“Go on, beg for me.”

You don’t even get a chance to argue, not when Sylus delivers another harsh slap on your clit, soothing it with a cruel swirl, just enough to have you chasing the friction, grinding down against his palm with a choked sob. His middle two fingers tease against your slit, teasing but never breaching as the soaked fabric is stretched around his digits. He’s breaking you, and it’s working. 

"...Please." It comes out in a whine, and you bury your face in his chest as you feel yourself burn in embarrassment. 

A hum and Sylus’s hand leaves your cunt, making you whine at the loss. That is, until it's replaced on your neck, pushing your head up. A squeeze. "I said beg."

The pressure of his hold and the sweet demand of his voice only makes you wetter despite yourself. "Please," you repeat, shaking, each breath cut off just slightly by his thumb. "Please, Sylus, need it."

At first you think the bastard is doing this for himself, but as soon as you finish gasping out the words, his hand moves from your neck to your hair, pulling your head back and forcing you to look across the room. 

Forcing you to look right at Rafayel.

Still bound and gagged, desperate doesn’t begin to describe him. Straining against his bounds, Rafayel’s entire body is shaking, trembling from either need or fury, gripping the leather until his knuckles turn white. Sunset eyes are glassy, blown out with unshed tears as they struggle to focus on everywhere Sylus touches you, the bruises against your neck, the quiver in your leg, the slick dripping down your thighs up to your clothed cunt.

Fuck, he’s hard. Rafayel’s cock strains painfully against his pants, an obvious dark spot tented up against his trousers, rocking against empty air with a muffled sob.

He looks more wrecked than you, and he hasn’t even been touched yet.

And that realization does horrible, terrible things to you. 

“Please. Need you, need it s’bad it hurts. Wanna cum so, so badly, please,” you whine, deliberately sweet, locking eyes with Rafayel as you drag out your moan. “Sylus.”

There’s a click of a belt buckle and you’re being lifted up into the air. Sylus holds you up by the backs of your knees, completely at his mercy as your hands flail against the restraints pulled taut above your head. Your legs are spread wide, hugged tight to his chest as you feel his length, hot and desperate, pressing into your ass. 

"Hold her down."

The shadows pull taut, wrapping around your knees as they allow Sylus’s hands to wander elsewhere, suspending you against him. At the same time, his fingers are hooked against your panties, snapping them against your weeping cunt and giving Rafayel the perfect view as the two men lock eyes.

Rafayel’s reaction is almost immediate, falling forward in the chair, moans stifled against the shadows as he watches Sylus push your panties to the side and then, without warning, thrust two fingers in knuckle-deep. 

"You're so sensitive, aren't you, sweetie? Or is it because he’s watching?" As you cry the man simply drags you flush against his chest, forcing your legs higher as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. And looks Rafayel dead in the eyes. “She’s taking me so well, isn’t she?”

Sylus follows Rafayel’s gaze, unfocused and starving as he watches the two of you, more specifically, where your cunt greedily sucks up Sylus’s fingers, meeting every grind and curl of him deep inside you as you writhe against his chest. 

Rafayel hates it, he hates it, and he hates how turned on he is at the sight.

You’re so easy, walls clenching around his digits, obscene suck following each and every movement as clear evidence even as your words fail you. With another curl of his fingers, Sylus twists his wrist, admiring the glint of your slick dripping down his palm and forearm. So wet, even as he purposefully avoids giving you what you’re seeking, planning to drive you insane before fucking you in any way that matters.

A particularly deep thrust of Sylus’s fingers has him grazing that sweet spot, and your entire body convulses, your cries echoing across the empty room in time to the lewd, wet squelches of Sylus’s ministrations. You're sobbing, struggling to find respite from the sensations as your legs tremble and familiar heat coils in your core embarrassingly fast. 

"Ah, ah," Sylus chides, and his touch disappears, leaving you empty and unsatisfied as your head lolls back against his shoulder. It takes all of your willpower not to beg him to keep going, but the look on his face makes it clear you're not allowed.

"I need—”

"You need," his grip is firm, "To learn patience. Aren’t you forgetting something? If you cum so quickly, do you really think you’ll be able to handle the both of us?"

Sylus says that, and yet he’s not exactly helping. Finally giving attention to your clit, his pace is merciless, the slick sounds of your pussy sucking his fingers in making his cock twitch in his pants.

"Yes. Yes, Sylus, I want ah– wait," you gasp, unable to move, squirming in the air as you look directly at Rafayel, almost in a plea. But that only makes the poor man almost cum at the eye contact. His entire body flushes an erotic pink at the sight of you, pathetic whimpers and unintelligible praises muffled into the shadows.

Sylus smirks, feeling you clench around his fingers, and grinds forward, your protests dissolving into static as you feel his cock grind between your thighs. Fuck, you’re close.

But Sylus isn’t looking down at you, not anymore. He’s rather focused on the poor man looking nearly hypnotized at the show you’re so generously putting on. 

So why not take it further? Sylus directs his Evol down, ripping Rafayel’s shirt and squeezing his thighs as they tease and tighten against his trembling muscles, grinning at the man practically falling apart without so much as a touch. 

"You want a taste, puppy?” 

Sylus smirks, kissing down your neck, finally undoing his Evol gagging Rafayel’s mouth as a pathetic whine echoes across the room alongside every heaving breath. “Ask nicely, and maybe I'll let you. If she cums, she’s all yours."

Rafayel has never wanted to burn a building down so badly before. 

He's a god for fuck's sake—he, the bringer of tempests, the master of tidal waves, and the keeper of fire, unable to even fucking breathe at the sight of you. This is not desire; this is sacrilege. 

But then he hears it. His name. Shattered, trembling, falling from your lips like prayers ripped from a throat too broken to care—Rafayel, Rafayel, Rafayel—your thighs quivering in the air, your body offering to something you don’t fully understand, each syllable searing through him like molten iron, branding him, unmaking him.

Rafayel’s fingers twitch with the need to destroy—burn, drown, something. But when you scream his name once more, cumming around Sylus’s fingers, the god inside him shatters.

"Please," his throat is raw from cursing through the gag, each word tasting like ash and salt on his tongue. "Please, Sylus."

It’s not enough. Sylus tilts his head, amused. Rafayel sucks in a shuddering breath, nearly falling from the chair to his knees as the restraints loosen.

"You want a god to beg?" Rafayel laughs, fury crackling beneath his desperation. "I’ll beg. I’ll kneel. I’ll crawl to her. Please, just let me taste. Don’t make me wait anymore."

“Then crawl.”

You’re only just coming down from your orgasm, bits of Rafayel’s and Sylus’s nth argument flickering through your mind— before you’re suddenly gasping for breath. 

A silent scream rips from your mouth as the restraints above you flicker with every tremor that seizes your body, knees buckling as a searing sensation against your leg bites again.

You didn’t even see Rafayel get off the chair, let alone process when he got on his knees beneath you. 

“Rafayel!” Looking down through tear-lined lashes, you watch the man lick his lips, his only apology a wet, messy kiss to the violet bruise already blooming against your inner thigh. He’s whimpering apologies into your leg, tongue slipping out to meet your quivering skin, collecting your sweat and dripping slick, smearing it higher and higher along your inner thigh. You swear no human tongue is that long.

As if coordinated, the moment Sylus releases your leg from his hold, Rafayel drapes it over his shoulder, your body suspended between them. Your hands writhe helplessly above your head, desperate to lace themselves into the man's hair and pull— closer or further, you do not know. 

Rafayel’s yanking you forward, moaning into your cunt as his lips meet your own swollen ones—too hasty, too depraved to even think of pulling aside your sticky panties. He’s eating through the fabric like a man starved, teeth grazing your clit as his tongue slips under, burying himself between your folds, tongue fucking up into you as his moans and whines are muffled only by your own and the wet squelches of your cunt.

"I— R-Rafayel—Sylus!"

Your head rolls back, falling onto Sylus’s chest as you feel Rafayel moan, the vibrations sending a shockwave up your spine. Your cum is dripping down his chin and chest, and he’s lost in the heat and taste of you, head spinning as he makes out with your pussy, sucking the drenched fabric of your panties, his poor neglected cock straining against his pants, begging for attention. In truth, Rafayel doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life.

Rafayel presses closer, nose brushing against your clit in sync with the curling and twisting of his tongue as it reaches that spongy abused spot deep inside you, the hot friction enough to send your eyes rocking into the back of your skull. 

Now you’re certain, the way it writhes inside you is most definitely far from human. 

Sylus is more than content to just watch over your shoulder, transfixed. Watch as the god kneels beneath you, head moving in a frenzy, desperate for more, a slave to his own hunger. When you try to writhe away from Rafayel, overstimulated, Sylus merely wraps his burly forearms around your waist and neck to pin you in place, the squeeze of Sylus’s biceps and Rafayel’s kissing to your cunt making you gloriously light-headed. 

Sylus watches your muscles begin to tremor, thighs locking around Rafayel’s head, and he brings his palm down to curl his fingers up into you alongside Rafayel’s tongue. 

“My, just look at you.” Sylus chuckles against your forehead as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, stifling your moans as you bite—hard—down into his sweat-slicked skin. “So needy for the both of us. Do you remember now? Do you realize the only thing your body craves is us, that we will be the only ones ever able to satisfy you?”

"Sylus, oh god, please," you moan, already delirious as you beg. 

Rafayel's head snaps up, panting between your legs, your wetness shining on his chin. He glares at the man above him, his eyes alight before pressing a rough kiss to your clit. 

"I’m your god. Do not speak to him while I'm touching you.” Rafayel’s mouth is back on your cunt, sucking, biting, and he reaches a hand up to rip the remaining fabric of your dress, squeezing your breast. "You're mine, You’re mine too. You were mine first, don’t forget that again." 

Rafayel feels the way you tense around his tongue and Sylus’s fingers and frowns, sucking harder, faster. You are a symphony in their ears, a drug in their veins, and gods, Rafayel has never felt so high.

 "Say it. Say my name,” he whines, drooling against your folds, "you're mine. All mine."

You can barely breathe.

"Say it."

"Yours, Rafayel," you cry out, your entire body shaking, "I'm yours."

"Again," he’s pleading, a growl, and you can feel it inside you, the vibration and the desperation. Ignoring the ringing in his ears, the dizziness in his vision to kiss your clit—missing, placing wet, opened-mouth kisses against your thighs and cunt a few times instead.  "Say it again."

"Yours, always, always," you can feel the tears running down your cheeks, a sob wrenching from your throat as the pressure grows, "yours, Rafayel, I'm yours—"

You’re babbling, so, so fucked out you don’t even recognize the familiar letters Rafayel presses into your clit with every swirl of his tongue—R-A-F-A-Y-E-L-R-A-F-A-Y-E-L—spelling his name as if in reminder. In possession. In worship.

The two of you are practically overstimulating yourselves, and Sylus can see the moment your eyes roll back, your lips parting with a moan, and moves his fingers to curl against your g-spot at the same time Rafayel goes back to licking up into your cunt. The god growls at the interruption and nips Sylus’s fingers almost on instinct, causing Sylus to hiss as you jerk in his hold. 

Immediately, Sylus is reaching down, yanking on Rafayel’s hair, forcing his head out from beneath you. “Ah-ah, no biting.”

But, gods, does Rafayel fight it. Whining, Rafayel reluctantly slips his tongue out from your cunt, dazed and addicted, eyes half-lidded as he attempts to find his way back to you, finally forced back onto his heels. 

"The fuck do you think you're doing? Sylus, I swear to the seas I’ll set everything on fire and let it all burn," Rafayel snarls, his body shaking with desire.

Sylus laughs. "Is that how a good boy asks?"

Neither of you misses the full shiver that races down Rafayel’s spine at the pet name. Sylus forces Rafayel’s head to the side with his grip on his hair and the god snaps out of it, smiling with the promise of blood as your cum drips from his canines. 

"I have killed for less."

"I’ll make it worth the effort, puppy. I promise."

Sylus's eyes burn into him, a silent dare. A challenge. Rafayel's gaze shifts back and forth between Sylus and you, his teeth grinding together as his cock strains against his pants. There are only two choices left, and he knows it.

“Will both of you stop fighting and please—” you scream at their stupidity, “Please just fuck me!”

Their hands are on you in an instant.

Sylus drags Rafayel up by the hair, pushing the man back as he stumbles backward onto the couch, you falling on top of him as Sylus bends you over the leather arm. Immediately, you feel the hot press of Sylus against your ass, his body caging you between them as his arms rest on the back of the couch and right beside Rafayel’s head. 

“Make him come, and I’ll fuck you,” Sylus whispers into your ear, guiding your back into a deeper arch until your breasts graze the cold leather. 

He doesn’t even finish talking before you’re pawing at Rafayel’s pants. 

You don’t need the extra motivation, not really, not when you’re already salivating at the sight of Rafayel’s pretty length, heavy and leaking as it snaps up to his abdomen as soon as you shove down his boxers.

Overly eager, you thumb at his slit, collecting the copious amounts of sticky pre-cum dripping onto his stomach as you drag your hand up and down, watching anger fade from Rafayel’s expression entirely as he writhes against the couch. 

You’ve barely even touched him and he’s falling apart. The sheen of sweat makes his muscles stick to the leather as he bucks up into your touch, babbling pleas as he watches you lean down to kiss the tip. "Poor baby. You’re this hard from just watching?"

"Please," Rafayel begs, gasping as your hand squeezes against the base of his pretty cock. "Wanna fuck you. Wanna be inside you. Please."

You hesitate, almost looking over your shoulder at Sylus for permission when you’re lifted up into the air with a yelp. Sylus only needs one arm to hoist you over the arm of the couch, dropping you onto Rafayel’s lap as the both of you moan at the mere contact of skin on skin. 

It should be embarrassing, the fact that you’re so wet that at the first few attempts, Rafayel’s cock merely slides between your thighs, grinding into your clit before trying again, Sylus cooing sweet nothings to the both of you as he purposely slows you down.

One of his large hands begins grinding you onto Rafayel’s length, letting you take him inch by inch, the other moving to stop the man beneath you from squirming, pinning him down. 

"Mhm fuck, Raf, feels so good." Relishing the stretch you finally, finally, get. Greedily sinking faster as you chase the addictive feeling, down until your ass hits his pelvis with a lewd squelch.

"Ah," Rafayel tries to meet you halfway, tries to thrust up into you but can’t so much as move with Sylus’s hand and Evol holding him down yet again. “Sylus, please, let me. Need it, need it so bad.”

The sound of Rafayel moaning Sylus’s name really shouldn’t be that hot, and yet you feel your pussy flutter, Rafayel’s cock twitching violently in you as he groans from the sudden pressure, throbbing in time to your heartbeat. Rolling your hips, you chase the friction of his pelvis against your clit, grinding back and forth as your breathing reduces to small cries of their names. 

"You can do better than that," Sylus scoffs, hand squeezing your hip, pressing down onto your lower abdomen before dragging you all the way off Rafayel’s length and slamming you back down. Again. And again.

Both of you lose your minds a little at that. Your moan is muffled as you collapse down onto Rafayel’s chest, panting, drooling at the pace Sylus is setting for you, still moving your hips as you try to distract yourself by placing messy, opened-mouth kisses up Rafayel’s heaving chest. Biting his nipple just to watch him arch into your mouth with a sob. Wanting, needing more. 

Sylus rocks you forward just a bit more and you scream, the fat head of Rafayel’s cock now ramming into your g-spot, raw and sensitive.

"Please, fuck," Rafayel gasps out, shaking at the change in angle. His jaw hangs deliriously open as he looks down, greedy eyes locked on the way your cunt was swallowing him whole. “Don’t stop, m’close. Please, ah—shit, don’t squeeze me like that— don’t stop.”

Sylus’s low laugh makes your cunt throb, gushing around Rafayel’s cock as the sticky, creamy strands begin to pool where your thighs meet. Still guiding you up and down, Sylus moves to finger at your clit, smiling as the both of you tense up immediately, smacking up once, twice, onto your oversensitive nub. 

“Very well then, make him cum. Poor thing deserves it, right?” Sylus whispers into your ear, spreading two fingers across the glossy mess between your bodies, watching your combined slick drip down his wrist. You watch him withdraw his glistening fingers with a smug, feral grin, immediately leaning down to press the digits into Rafayel’s open mouth. 

Every sound is unrestrained now, Rafayel’s eyes rolling back at the taste of you coating Sylus’s fingers, sucking diligently as his pace speeds up into brutal, frantic thrusts. Rafayel’s hips freely jerk up as he plants his feet into the couch, new leverage letting him ram himself deeper, barely pulling out before rolling his hips back into yours. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes, fuuuck."

"Cum, puppy, I know you're close."

You swallow your cries just long enough to lick across Rafayel’s blushing red ear and whisper, "Be a good boy and cum for us, Raf. Come inside me, please?”

It hits him so hard it hurts.

Rafayel cries as he cums, loud, sweet moans garbled against Sylus’s fingers, drooling around him nearly as much as his cock is drooling in you, the sheer heat of his release filling you to the brim as it squirts down your thighs and up his abs in thick rivulets. But he’s still grinding up into you as he cums, fucking his release deeper, arching his muscled back into a gorgeous curve on the soaked leather, and you feel your own orgasm quickly approaching.

"Rafayel, Sylus, wait please, too much, I’m gonna—"

"You can take it, kitten.” Sylus cuts you off, retracting his fingers from Rafayel’s mouth before tapping them against his cheek, smearing the wetness of his digits down his jaw.

Rafayel gets the message, still thrusting, hands squeezing your breasts, waist, down to your ass, spreading your thighs until they shake, all as Sylus keeps moving your hips. The two of them working together as your body shudders, orgasm hitting you without any other warning. 

Sylus hums sweet praises as your head floats in and out of reality, still deliciously stretched around Rafayel’s still-hard cock. The couch dips as Sylus settles in behind you, the heat of his bare skin caressing your back as his hands massage comforting little circles into yours and Rafayel’s hips. 

“Good job, baby.”

Both of you shudder at the praise. 

Sylus’s voice acts as little more than an aphrodisiac, all low and rough with a teasing chuckle, and the way you feel Rafayel twitch inside you makes you think he feels similarly. 

“Hey,” Rafayel’s already embarrassingly close to coming again, your every movement tightening and rocking against his length. He pushes himself up onto his elbows with a whine, nuzzling into your touch with each slow, deep thrust. “You’re taking too long. Hurry up, a deal is a deal, so hurry up already and fuck her.”  

You can’t see it, but the sight of you and Rafayel still subtly grinding against each other, panting and breathless, makes a dark flush spread across Sylus’s cheeks, his own body betraying him as he smiles. One thick arm anchors you to his chest as the other pulls Rafayel up. “So needy, aren’t you?”

You don’t know who he’s talking to— you don’t particularly care. 

Not so long as both of them were inside you within the next five seconds. 

“Shh,” Sylus kisses you quiet, silencing the whines you didn’t even realize you were letting out, "Don't worry, kitten. We're gonna take real good care of you, aren't we, Rafayel?"

Rafayel only nods, eyes half-lidded and teary as he looks down to where you and him are joined. He's still buried to the hilt, throbbing against your walls, and you both moan at the overstimulation from every movement, hissing at the cool air as Sylus slides his hands down to pull you apart, fingers pressing against his cock inside you.

"Just relax, alright? Deep breaths. This'll feel really good soon."

Slow. Torturously slow. Sylus retreats his fingers and replaces them with his weeping tip. And then he’s pushing in alongside Rafayel’s cock— careful, deep grinds of his hips that have you and Rafayel moaning, every heartbeat pulsing against your walls in violent thumps. 

"Relax."

"I am relaxed."

"Breathe, Raf."

"I'll burn you alive."

Sylus laughs at Rafayel's pained whine, and he takes that moment to tighten his arm around your waist, forcing you steady before thrusting in one brutal push. The sheer size of them, the combined pressure, and the very fact that you can feel them both rocking and throbbing against each other is enough to have you losing your mind. 

Dropping his head to kiss your shoulders, Sylus almost looks apologetic as he turns your head to the side, messily licking into your lips as he says, “M’sorry, just a bit more. Just a bit- hah fuck- a bit deeper—” 

Oh fuck, he’s not even in all the way yet.

Rafayel is moaning nonstop now, his hands finding yours and squeezing, the two of you trembling. You're a drooling, overstimulated mess between them, but all you can do is nod, a garbled, “S’okay, keep- keep going.”

That's the last warning you get before Sylus pushes deeper, until you can feel him in your throat, pound after heavy pound that shakes the entire damn couch. Holy fuck, it might break. 

They’re caging you in on either side, rhythmless, bouncing you like little more than a toy, pressing closer as the pressure grows against your walls and around your hips, reminding you of just how small you are to them in every conceivable way and how far they’re willing to go for you. How willing of worship they are. How desperate they are to prove it. 

You can feel everything, so full you can barely breathe, can barely think. Shaky fingers claw down anything you can find, digging into hard planes of muscle, and Rafayel makes a sound against your mouth like it hurts. But he isn't holding back either, the grip on your thighs bruising as he fucks into you, every thrust a sharp shock of pleasure as he and Sylus rock against one another.

The room is filled with the lewd squelch of their cock fucking into your wet cunt, taking turns in deep, uneven tempos, and the heavy, ragged sounds of your breathing.

Sylus suddenly moans, loud and unrestrained against your shoulder, and you look back to see Rafayel’s hand squeezing the pale column of his neck, the slow lick of flames leaving bright red marks against his skin in the shape of Rafayel’s palm. The pain only seems to set Sylus off further, a harsh thrust into your ass forcing you forward and deeper against Rafayel as well, nearly delirious as you’re stuck between their silent competition yet again.

Rafayel’s mouth gasps open in a feverish puff of your name over and over when you already begin clenching, practically milking them back in, pace stuttering as his swollen tip takes turns colliding with Sylus’s own and your cervix. Half-delirious, his palm comes up, pressing right where he could feel both of their cocks making a mess of you inside. 

“Ah! W-what-”

“Mhm, you deserve a reward don’t you cutie?” He’s panting against your mouth while Sylus bites the filthiest of words into the crook of your neck. The lovebites they’ve swathed across your skin will take days, if not weeks to disappear, but you’re far too gone to pay them any mind. “Take it, take our cum then. Right here.”

Rafayel’s palm digs into your lower stomach, hard.

His thrusts are short and frantic now, his face pressed into the crook of your neck as you tighten impossibly around him. The pressure builds until you can't breathe, your body shaking and toes curling as you scream out little ah’s of their names.

"Wanna-" Rafayel can barely finish his sentence, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust, the head of his cock knocking against your cervix. "Wanna fill you up, make sure you never forget. Never forget us again.”

Sylus on the other hand almost looks pained at the idea, and the sudden rush of possessiveness makes his thrusts harsher, rougher, and the sound of his hips colliding with yours fills the room.

“Yes yes yes- hah- want you to cum inside.” Arching between them, grappling pathetically for more. More. “Both of you inside, want it.”

"Careful." Sylus growls, forcing himself to breathe. To think. 

Rafayel only grins, a wicked edge to his fucked-out smile. “It’d be our mark. All ours. Our love, all full of us, our cum. You'd look so good like that, our sweet darling.”

You cry, burying your face in Rafayel's neck, his hair, the smell of him, of Sylus. "Wanna- want—ahh—want it, Sylus, please- want to feel it, want to be both of yours.”

“Don’t.” Sylus can't help but hiss, his cock swell violently inside of you, the telltale heat pooling in his stomach of a dragon marking his territory. He’s so close it’s embarrassing. 

Instead, his mouth finds your throat, sucking more bruises into the side Rafayel hasn’t completely marred. "Do you really want this? Think about it, kitten."

Rafayel laughs, squeezing your face in his hand as a low trill sounds from the back of his throat. “You believe—mhm, fuck—she can think right now?”

Sylus chooses to ignore him. Gently taking your face from Rafayel, he covers your eyes, whispering into your ear, "One more time, kitten. Do you want this?”

“Yes.”

There's no response, but the sudden, painful press of Sylus's bite makes you gasp, the sharp sting a pleasant contrast to the sweet ache spreading throughout your body. A hand pulls against your waist, another flicking cruelly across your nipple, pain and pleasure bleeding into one as you nearly collapse, two sets of hands immediately steading you instead. Rafayel moves to the unoccupied side of your neck, matching Sylus’s marks, the vulgar sounds of their tongues and sucking of teeth between moans fills your ears, just above the slap of their rough thrusts. 

Twin marks, the jaws of a Lemurian and the canines of a dragon, glowing a dull blue and red, claiming your body and soul in a way that their bonds sing. 

Sylus immediately retracts, kissing away the few escaped droplets of blood in apology while Rafayel lets them run, licking up your collarbone as the blood smears across your heartbeat, frantic under his tongue. 

Rafayel's tongue soothes the pain as he kisses the mark, hissing a soft, “ours,” into your neck.

The possessive edge in his voice sends a shockwave through your body, and you can't help but shudder, walls spasming around him and Sylus as the pleasure nearly blinds you, every sense heightened by Sylus’s palm still covering your eyes. 

Without sight, every touch, every shift of their bodies against yours, in yours, is overwhelming. And you’re crying out into the darkness as they tease and drag you up, forcing you closer and closer— 

Fuck, you’re squirting everywhere. Each thrust now punctuated by wet slaps as your hands claw and slip against the drenched muscles of Rafayel’s abs and Sylus’s chest, unable to anchor yourself as you continue to cum. Shaking with it. 

They barely notice, the sudden vice of your cunt sucking them inside as they fuck into you in shallow, desperate little grinds. Anything to get deeper and deeper still, one kissing you as you feel their tongue lick up into you and the other playing with your clit, all three of you quickly losing your minds.

It’s impossibly messy, desperate. Neither of them has any control left, both cumming inside you as you continue to convulse around them, Sylus's hips stuttering as you feel the full, hot press of his release. Rafayel isn't far behind, whining and twitching, filling you up as their combined release gushes around your thighs, staining the leather couch below with dripping pools of it.

The feeling of being so full is enough to prolong your orgasm to the point of pain, and you scream their names as best you can when you can’t feel your tongue anymore, body convulsing.

You're still dizzy when Rafayel finally pulls away, a soft whimper escaping his lips at the feeling.

“So good, so pretty for us cutie, our sweet darling, you did so well." Rafayel’s babbling to himself with a lopsided smile, guiding Sylus’s hand to your navel. "Look, look. She's so full."

Sylus pulls back, heaving, his eyes immediately falling to where Rafayel's hand rests. He can feel it, can feel both of their releases seeping out, but Rafayel is right, your lower stomach is swollen. Not quite enough to show, but definitely enough to make them both moan, and the sound draws your attention back down to earth.

“Again.”

It's the first demand you’ve given in a while, and it’s not what Sylus expected, not with the way you barely seem lucid, but there's a bright flush to your cheeks and an excited glint in your eyes, and it's so fucking hot he can barely breathe. 

What Sylus also didn’t expect was for you to immediately lift yourself off his dick, busy watching your combined spend trickle down your thighs before both you and Rafayel knock Sylus onto his back, looking equal parts feral and furious as the two of you work together to pin him down. 

“You really didn’t think I’d let you get away with everything you pulled in the beginning, did you?” 

You nod, biting into Sylus’s neck as you whisper in faux anger. “This is entirely your fault.”

Sylus could barely manage to hide his smile. 

Who knows if any of you will make it out of this alive. The only lasting truth you know now is that they’ve irreversibly claimed you. That you’ve claimed them. 

Your dragon and your god.

This is all for @jayhyunglover who sparked this obsession while I was stuck in NYC's airport-- what a way to start 2025. Regardless, a month later this was born, so thank you, darling for feeding my delusions. This one's for you~

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 6

Enjoy Chapter 6! Ch8 will be a look into what has been happening in Ghotam and Ch9 will probably follow the first episode of Invincible.

We're slowly approaching the main timeline age, so if ya'll want a specific character to make an appearance or would like to see a specific plot line this is your time to speak now or forever remain silent /j

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 6 >>next

He is crazy- he can’t just- He-!

You couldn’t even know where to begin telling what happened. One moment you were relaxing, enjoying the sun, living the dream- and then this old, 6 feet and 2 inches of pure muscle, alien-man thing just up and kidnaps you. Omni-Man kidnapped you with a simple “Hello, kid. Let’s go home.” You were more shocked than angry, to be honest, the man was just spewing nonsense as he flew you across the states.

Now, Nolan wouldn’t call it kidnapping- why, he’d never! He was just- cleaning up the streets, helping a homeless kid, even though he knew where she lived- it was adopting without all the other steps!

He was meticulous in his watching, not stalking, but watching, observing. When Cecil first called him, bringing to his attention a mysterious flying person coming and going from NYC, he was ready for a villain, an alien preparing to overtake NYC, anything but a tween kid shakily flying, almost hitting buildings and nearly being taken down by other flying heroes.

He knew she was no threat; he told Cecil as much- but he kept coming back. Something kept making him come back, just to look, to make sure she didn’t hurt herself or others- he kept telling himself. He knew deep inside why he came back every day for a year, it was the same reason why he married Debbie, it was the same reason why he couldn’t bring himself to hate his son.

Sure, she was living well, but the food she ate, if she remembered to, wasn’t sustainable, she needed home-cooked food, she needed socializing and training, she needed- she needed a family and stability. Nolan took the initiative to pack her bags and everything in her little apartment and move her into his and Debbie’s house, in the room next to Mark’s. And then, he took her.

You didn’t put up much of a fight if one at all, but really what could you say or do when Omi-Man has deemed you his and his wife’s kid, the man spoke of her highly, his son too, but still- He kidnapped you, you wouldn’t just stay- “And Debbie is making this roast beef with baked potatoes-“…

Some would call you weak, others would say you can be easily bought, but this was the greatest roast beef you had tasted in a long while. “This is amazing food, Mrs. Grayson.” You could play along for a while. The woman just smiled and thanked you, insisting on you calling her Debbie. The offer of ice cream made you sure you could play along for a long while.

She wasn’t initially happy with Nolan coming with a random kid under his arm, but one look at your disheveled appearance and wide eyes made her rethink everything. A daughter wouldn’t hurt, two kids would make the house happier, and you reminded her of those scuffed up little kittens, she didn’t have it in her to let you go without a meal at least.

Over dinner, you answered every question they threw at you, from your name to Mark asking if you like comics, but when they asked your age, you just shrugged. “Around 13-14? Can’t quite remember, I haven’t celebrated my birthday ever, mom just told me how old I was and then-“ Your body went rigid.

You were telling too much, getting too comfortable- but, maybe this was your chance at a true family. Can’t back down now, you could always just leave if you really wanted. The two adults understood as soon as you tensed up, Debbie immediately acting as her hand soothingly rubbed at your shoulder and back while they let you decide whether to continue or change the subject. “She died when I was five.”

She smiled at you softly, apologizing for prying and giving their condolences, something not even Alfred did. All Nolan saw was an opportunity to grab you and never let go, to give you what the father that clearly wasn’t in the picture never gave.

Mark just grabbed your wrist, a sad frown on his face. “I can share my parent with you. I know I’d be sad if mom or dad were gone. We can be siblings!” His bright smile was contagious, making you smile just as bright before your hopeful eyes met Debbie’s. She was sold a while back, as soon as you called her pretty while calling Nolan a bum and asking how she had the misfortune of marrying a brute, making the man grumble as he sat you on the couch, your hopeful glance just set it in stone.

Despite having a room all to yourself, you wanted to push. They were different to the Waynes, that was clear. They were warmer, talked to you, and it all felt so much better. So, you wanted to test the water by asking Mark if he’d be willing to share his bedroom with you tonight, not wanting to be alone. Not when you had the opportunity to soak in any attention they give you.

The boy was excited to have a sleepover in his room, eager to show you all the comics and toys he had- and neither Debbie nor Nolan could say no. Not to two pairs of puppy eyes. The adults were sure this weakness to saying no wouldn’t last… Hopefully.

Spending the night with Mark was amazing, it was everything you thought Dick and the other would give you. He showed you all his comics, letting you read all of them, and as the night settled and the stars were high in the sky you taught him about them. In the end, you both fell asleep in the pillow fort you made, comic books lying open around you. Your plans of escape quickly went out the window, this family thing with them felt like it was worth trying. You liked NYC, but maybe Chicago is where you belonged. And if the adults heard you two giggle and fuss around all night, they didn’t say anything.

By next week you were a Grayson, thanks to Cecil’s string-pulling. Looks like Nolan knew exactly what to say to make the man agree.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple

my greatest fear is misspelling a name and tagging someone who has never seen this 🫠

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: THE BEST MEDICINE

paige x azzi

word count: 5.6k

A/N: This is just a cute little fluffy prompt that a few people have given me. Didn’t want to not post this weekend. Let me know what you think 🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

Azzi groaned as the sharp vibration of her phone rattled against her nightstand. Squinting at the bright screen, she barely registered Jana’s name before answering, her voice thick from sleep.

“Hello?”

Jana didn’t waste any time. “Your girlfriend is sick, and I swear I’m about to strangle her in two seconds.”

Azzi blinked, still groggy. “What?”

Jana sighed dramatically and Azzi can hear Paige coughing in the back. “She’s miserable but refusing to go back to bed or take medicine, snapping at everyone like it’s our fault she’s dying of the flu.”

Azzi chuckled, rubbing her face as she sat up. “Alright, tell her I’ll be there soon.”

“She better listen to you or we’re going to be in the portal for another point guard ,” Jana muttered before hanging up.

Shaking her head, Azzi threw off the blankets and got up to brush her teeth. She knew Paige could be the worst patient—stubborn, usually restless, and convinced she didn’t need help.

…

Azzi balanced the bag of soup in one hand and the medicine in the other as she pushed open the door to Paige’s suite. The room was dimly lit, and on the couch, curled up in a ball under a thick hoodie, was her very miserable-looking girlfriend. Paige’s nose was red, her eyes were glassy, and even from a distance, Azzi could hear the slight congestion in her breathing.

Azzi pouted dramatically as she stepped inside. “Hi, sickie.”

Paige barely lifted her head, her voice raspy as she mumbled, “I’m not sick.”

As if on cue, she let out a deep cough from her chest that sounded painful.

Azzi raised an eyebrow completely unconvinced. “Right.” She set the soup and medicine down on the table before walking over, reaching for Paige’s hand. “Come on, you need to be in bed, it's too cold out here.”

But Paige didn’t budge. Instead, she burrowed deeper into her hoodie, mumbling, “Too cold to get up.”

Azzi sighed, tilting her head at her girlfriend. “Paige.”

Silence. No movement. Just Paige pretending she hadn’t heard her.

Azzi huffed. “Alright, fine.” She reached for the bottle of medicine, twisting off the cap. “At least take this—”

Before she could finish, Paige suddenly shot up from the couch, the blanket slipping off of her and falling on the floor in the process. “Nope. Not taking that shit.” Her hoarse voice carried pure disdain as she turned and made a beeline for her room.

Azzi blinked, momentarily stunned at the speed of her popping up, before bursting into laughter. “Oh, now you have the energy to move?”

Shaking her head, she grabbed the soup and the rest of the medicine, trailing after Paige. As she stepped into the room, she kicked the door shut softly behind her, amusement still dancing in her eyes.

Azzi turned to find Paige completely cocooned under her blankets, only her head visible, her red nose and glassy eyes making her look even more pitiful. Azzi bit back a laugh knowing how sensitive Paige got when she was sick. She simply shook her head as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Come on, baby,” she coaxed, holding up the small bottle of medicine. “This is the only one that’s liquid. The rest are pills.”

Paige’s lips turned down into a deep pout. “No… it’s not tasty.”

Azzi snorted, unscrewing the cap. “It’s not going to be tasty, Paige. It’s medicine.”

Paige shook her head stubbornly, burrowing further into the covers. “Then I don’t want it.”

Azzi groaned, tilting her head back. “Paige, please.”

Paige hummed in response, her eyes closing dramatically, as if that would make the conversation go away.

Azzi exhaled through her nose, giving her a look. “Please, baby. You’re not gonna feel better if you don’t take it.”

“I am fine,” Paige mumbled, voice muffled by the blanket.

Azzi arched an eyebrow. “Really? ‘Cause you sound like you swallowed a cheese grater for breakfast.”

Paige cracked one eye open to glare at her. “Wow. That’s rude. You’re mean.”

Azzi smiled. “I’m just saying. You sound worse than you did in the background of the phone. And the coughing? Baby, it’s awful.”

Paige groaned, turning her face into the pillow like a child refusing to eat their vegetables. “I don’t wanna,” she whined, her voice hoarse.

Azzi softened, rubbing Paige’s back over the blanket. “I know, but you have to. Just one little sip, and I promise I’ll stop bugging you about it.”

Paige peeked up at her. “No, you won’t.”

Azzi grinned. “Okay, maybe not. But I’ll be really nice while I bug you.”

Paige narrowed her eyes, debating. Then, in a last-ditch effort, she tried a different approach. “What if I just sleep it off? I’ll feel better when I wake up.”

Azzi gave her a flat look. “You said that last night, and now you’re actually sick.”

Paige huffed. “It’s ‘cause y’all stressed me out when we were getting on the plane.”

Azzi laughed. “Oh, it’s our fault you’re sick now?”

“Yes,” Paige said decisively, crossing her arms under the blanket.

Azzi sighed, shaking her head. “You are so dramatic when you’re sick it’s actually insane.”

Paige just blinked up at her, silently. Stubborn.

Azzi finally pulled out her wild card, her voice turning more serious. “You know if you don’t get ahead of this, you’re gonna miss a game.”

That got Paige’s attention. She stilled, her brows furrowing as she stared at Azzi. “…What?”

Azzi shrugged. “If you don’t rest and actually take something, this’ll linger. And you know Geno isn’t letting you on the court if you’re anything close to this tomorrow.”

Paige opened her mouth like she wanted to argue, but no words came out. She knew Azzi was right.

A long, begrudging sigh left her lips. “…Fine,” she muttered, rolling onto her back like she’d just been handed a life sentence.

Azzi grinned, quickly pouring the medicine before Paige could change her mind. “See? Agreeing wasn’t so hard.”

Paige scowled. “I hate you.”

Azzi held the medicine out to her with a smirk. “I you too, sickie.”

Paige rolled her eyes but threw back the medicine quickly, making a dramatic face as she swallowed. She handed the little cup back to Azzi, shuddering. “That was disgusting.”

Azzi sat the cup aside, shaking her head. “You’re dramatic.”

She messed around with the rest of the medicine for a moment before handing Paige two pills along with the water bottle from her dresser. Paige took them with much less resistance, swallowing them with ease.

Azzi smiled. “Good girl.”

Paige shot her a glare. “Don’t.”

Azzi smirked but ignored her, moving to the bag she brought with her. “I got you soup.”

At this, Paige’s attention turned toward Azzi’s movements, watching as she pulled out the container and tried to hand it to her. But instead of taking it, Paige mumbled, “Can you feed me?”

Azzi gave her a look. “Your arms still work.”

Paige pouted dramatically. “You have to be nice to me. I’m sick.”

Azzi raised her eyebrows, amused. “Oh, so you admit it now?”

Paige sighed, sinking further into the blanket with a pout. “Only if it’ll get you to feed me.”

Azzi groaned but still got up to grab a spoon. “You’re so lucky I kinda like you.”

Paige grinned triumphantly, sitting up a little and scooting over to make room for Azzi on the bed. Azzi shook her head as she sat beside her, opening the soup container.

“Alright, big head. Open up,” she teased, holding up the spoon.

Paige just smirked. “See? Was being nice so hard? No hurry, I’m starving.”

Azzi shot Paige a look, and just like that, Paige’s smirk disappeared. She sat up a little straighter as Azzi lifted the spoon to her lips.

As soon as the soup touched her tongue, Paige flinched, mumbling, “Too hot.”

Azzi sighed, pulling the spoon back. “Maybe if you weren’t rushing me—”

“I’m starving!” Paige interrupted, slumping back into the pillows.

Azzi rolled her eyes but blew on the next spoonful before holding it out. “Better?”

Paige took the bite, nodding in satisfaction. “Mhm. See? This is what good girlfriends do.”

Azzi snorted. “Oh, so now I’m a good girlfriend?”

Paige batted her eyelashes. “The best.”

Azzi chuckled, scooping up another spoonful and blowing on it again. “Uh-huh. You’re just saying that ‘cause I’m feeding you.”

Paige grinned lazily. “And it’s working.”

Azzi shook her head, amused, as she carefully fed Paige another bite. “You are so spoiled.”

Paige hummed contentedly. “I sure am.”

Azzi gave her a look. “And if I weren’t here?”

Paige blinked at her innocently. “Jana.”

Azzi nearly choked on a laugh. “Jana said she was about to strangle you.”

Paige shrugged. “She doesn’t mean that. She s me.”

“Oh, she definitely meant it.”

Paige stuck her tongue out before lazily leaning against Azzi’s shoulder. “Mmm, don’t want anymore.”

Azzi glanced at the half-full container. “You barely ate anything.”

Paige sighed dramatically. “That’s all my body can handle.”

Azzi gave her a flat look. “Paige.”

Paige nuzzled further into Azzi’s side, her voice growing sleepier. “Mmm. Just wanna lay here with you.”

Azzi sighed, setting the soup aside. “You’re lucky I you.”

Paige smiled as she whispered, “I know. Super lucky.”

Azzi set the soup container on the dresser and gave Paige a soft smile as she reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it off and tossing it aside. She knew Paige always liked to feel her skin when she was sick—said it brought comfort.

Paige, already settled on the bed, instinctively shifted closer, her body curling against Azzi's side as Azzi laid down. Without hesitation, Paige pressed her cheek to Azzi’s chest, content with the warmth. Azzi wrapped an arm around her, running her fingers gently through Paige’s messy hair.

The room fell into a peaceful silence for a while, broken only by the soft rhythm of their breathing. Azzi’s fingers moved lazily, threading through Paige’s hair as she murmured, “You always like it when I do this, huh? You close your big mouth every time.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Paige hummed lazily, her voice muffled against Azzi’s skin. “It’s... soothing.”

Azzi smiled, the warmth in her chest deepening. “It’s a nice change of pace from you being so dramatic.”

Paige let out a little whine, shifting to nestle further into Azzi’s chest. “I’m not dramatic. I just feel crappy.”

Azzi laughed quietly. “Baby you’re the drama queen of our relationship. I’ve had to deal with that for a while now. Not just when you’re sick.”

Paige lifted her head slightly to send Azzi a sleepy, half-lidded glare. “You still like me anyway so,” she muttered, but there was a smile tugging at her lips despite the exhaustion in her voice.

Azzi chuckled, running her fingers down the back of Paige’s neck. “I do, I do. But I swear, every time you get sick, you act like you’re dying or somebody killed our dog .”

Paige pouted, clearly not having the energy for a witty retort. “I might be dying,” she grumbled softly. “You never know with these things...”

Azzi rolled her eyes, shifting so that Paige was more comfortably nestled against her. “You’re not dying. You just need to rest and maybe close your mouth for once.”

Paige sighed, her breath soft against Azzi’s skin. “I hate being sick. I just wanna feel better already.”

Azzi smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I know, baby. But you’re going to get better.”

Paige stayed silent for a few moments, just breathing in the comfort of Azzi’s warmth, her eyelids fluttering. After a while, she mumbled, “You’re nice to me when I’m sick.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, smirking playfully. “I’m always nice to you.”

Paige shook her head, burrowing her face further into Azzi’s chest. “No... not always,” she murmured, clearly fighting sleep. “Sometimes you’re mean.”

Azzi laughed softly, a sound filled with the kind of affection she only had for Paige. “Am I? How so?”

Paige’s voice was so quiet now, almost a whisper. “You make fun of me when I’m weak...”

Azzi paused, her smile softening. She ran her fingers through Paige’s hair, feeling the weight of the words sink in. “You’re not weak, Paige. You’re just... human. And I love you no matter what.”

Paige let out a small, content sigh, the fight to stay awake slipping away. “I love you too.”

Azzi’s heart melted at the softness in Paige’s words. She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Paige’s forehead. “I know beautiful.”

Paige shifted slightly, eyes fluttering open for a second. “I don’t want to talk anymore,” she said, her words a little slurred from drowsy medicine. “I’m just... sleepy.”

Azzi smiled fondly at her. “You’re so cute when you’re delirious.”

Paige gave a half-hearted protest, but it was obvious her energy was spent. “I’m not delirious... I’m just...” She trailed off, her words losing meaning as her eyes began to drift shut again.

Azzi smirked, brushing a stray strand of hair from Paige’s face. “Just what?” she teased softly, though she knew Paige wasn’t going to respond with anything of value.

Paige’s voice, now more muffled as she nuzzled into Azzi’s chest, barely made it out. “I’m just... not sick anymore... after a nap.”

Azzi chuckled quietly, stroking Paige’s hair again. “Yeah, right.”

Paige’s breathing had slowed to a peaceful rhythm, and Azzi could feel the weight of her body relax further. Azzi held her closer, whispering, “Get some rest, baby. I’m right here.”

Paige let out a tiny, satisfied sound, and her body finally stilled in the comfort of Azzi’s embrace.

Azzi massaged her head for a few more minutes, watching Paige’s steady breathing, the soft rise and fall of her chest. She kissed the top of Paige’s head once more and whispered, “I love you.”

A soft snore was the only response, and Azzi smiled softly as she closed her eyes.

…

Azzi had been lying there awake for a while, absentmindedly running her fingers through Paige’s hair as she slept. It was now pretty late in the day and the room was quiet except for the soft hum of the heater and the occasional rustle of the blankets as Paige shifted against her. At first, Azzi thought nothing of how much she was moving—Paige had been exhausted, and it was normal for her to move a little in her sleep.

But as time passed, Azzi started to notice something was off. Paige was shifting more, her breathing had grown uneven. Her forehead lying on Azzi’s chest, which had been warm before, was now burning up.

Azzi furrowed her brows, brushing her fingers across Paige’s damp hairline. Paige was practically sweating through her shirt, her skin sticky with heat. Azzi tried soothing her again, running gentle fingers through Paige’s hair, whispering softly.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. Just relax.”

For a moment, Paige stilled, melting back into Azzi’s chest. But soon enough, she started shifting again, her face scrunching up in discomfort, her body restless.

Azzi let out a quiet sigh, brushing the damp strands of hair away from Paige’s forehead before leaning down to press a soft kiss against it. “You’re burning up,” she murmured.

Paige let out a small whimper in her sleep, turning her head slightly, but she didn’t wake.

Azzi frowned, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Paige’s back before finally deciding it was time to wake her up. She tightened her arm around Paige slightly and nudged her gently. “Paige, baby, wake up.”

Paige groaned in protest, her body still heavy.

Azzi kissed her temple before whispering again, this time a little firmer. “Come on, sickie. You’re overheating.”

Paige mumbled something incoherent, her voice thick with exhaustion, but Azzi could feel how warm she was. She needed to cool her down.

Azzi sighed, rubbing small circles into Paige’s damp back under the hoodie. “Paige. Wake up for me please, baby.”

This time, Paige stirred a little more, blinking sluggishly as she let out a tired, hoarse sound. “Mm... wha’?”

Azzi brushed a hand across her cheek, feeling the heat radiating off her skin. “You’re too hot, love. You need to take off your hoodie and drink some water.”

Paige groaned, burying her face back into Azzi’s chest like a stubborn child. “Don’t wanna baby,” she murmured with her raspy voice before letting out some awful sounding coughs.

Azzi let out a soft laugh despite her concern. “I know, baby, but you’re basically cooking in this hoodie.” She nudged Paige’s shoulder lightly. “Come on, let’s get it off, and I’ll grab you some cold water.”

Paige made another sleepy, reluctant sound but finally, slowly, peeled herself away from Azzi’s chest that was a little damp from where Paige was laying. She blinked at her through heavy, glassy eyes before weakly lifting her arms. “You do it please.”

Azzi chuckled, shaking her head as she sat up slightly, carefully tugging the hoodie and shirt over Paige’s head. It was damp from her sweat, which only made Azzi more certain that Paige needed to cool off.

“There,” Azzi murmured, balling up the hoodie and tossing it to the floor before reaching for the water bottle on the nightstand. She unscrewed the cap and held it out. “Drink some.”

Paige took the bottle with sluggish movements, taking a few small sips before sighing and leaning back against Azzi’s chest. “Still hot,” she mumbled.

Azzi smirked, pressing a kiss to Paige’s temple. “Yeah, you are.”

Paige let out a weak laugh, swatting lazily at Azzi’s arm. “Shut up.”

Azzi smirked, brushing her fingers along Paige’s warm cheek. “Do you wanna shower?” she asked gently.

Paige let out a sleepy hum in response, her eyes barely open.

Azzi took that as a yes, pressing a soft kiss to Paige’s temple before murmuring, “Okay, just lay down for a little longer. I’ll get everything ready.”

As she slid out of bed, Paige immediately curled back into the blankets, making herself small against the pillows. Azzi shook her head fondly before heading to the dresser, pulling out a pair of soft boxers and one of Paige’s favorite shirts for her to wear after the shower.

With the clothes in hand, she made her way out of the room, only to be met by Aubrey lingering near the hallway.

“Are you almost done playing nurse?” Aubrey said her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. “I miss my bookie and I need a hug.”

Azzi rolled her eyes as she passed by. “I’ll kick your knee in Aubrey.”

Aubrey snorted, shaking her head as Azzi disappeared into the bathroom.

Once inside, Azzi set the clothes down and turned on the shower, letting the water heat up. She reached for a eucalyptus shower steamer, unwrapping it before placing it under the stream, watching as it started to dissolve, releasing its scent into the air. The steam quickly filled the bathroom, curling into the air as the eucalyptus aroma spread.

Satisfied with the setup, Azzi grabbed a fresh towel and hung it within reach before heading back to Paige’s room.

She stopped in the doorway, biting back a laugh when she saw Paige had fallen asleep again. She was sprawled out on the bed, her head barely peeking from the blankets, looking utterly exhausted.

Azzi sighed, shaking her head as she pulled out her phone. She took a quick picture, a smirk tugging at her lips. Paige is definitely going to kill her for that later.

Throwing her phone on the dresser, she stepped forward and gently brushed a few damp strands of hair from Paige’s forehead.

“Paige, baby, wake up,” she murmured softly.

Paige stirred, her nose scrunching up as she let out a sleepy groan. “Five more minutes please,” she mumbled.”

Azzi chuckled, brushing her thumb across Paige’s warm cheek. “You literally just agreed to shower. Don’t start backtracking now.”

Paige sighed dramatically but slowly blinked up at her, her blue glassy eyes still heavy. “Mmm, but I was so comfy.”

Azzi grinned, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I know, baby, but you’re all sweaty. You’ll feel better after, I promise.”

Paige pouted but didn’t argue this time, instead letting Azzi help her sit up. As soon as she was upright, she let her head fall onto Azzi’s shoulder with a quiet sigh.

“You’re too good to me,” she murmured.

Azzi smiled, her hand rubbing slow, gentle circles along Paige’s back. “Yeah, yeah. Now come on, before you fall asleep again.”

Paige hummed in response but allowed Azzi to help her up, leaning into her warmth as they made their way to the bathroom together.

Azzi leaned against the sink, arms crossed as she watched Paige sluggishly step into the shower. The steam curled around her, and for a second, Paige just stood under the spray, her shoulders sagging in relief.

But then she turned, blinking at Azzi before sticking out her bottom lip in a pout.

“Come in with me.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “This shower’s supposed to be for you.”

Paige pouted deeper, her glassy eyes now wide as she leaned against the shower wall dramatically. “M’ too weak. I can’t. I need help,” she said while attempting her best puppy dog eyes.

Azzi scoffed. “Nice try, baby—”

Paige sniffled, her lip trembling slightly as she kept her gaze locked on Azzi. With her damp hair sticking to her forehead and her flushed cheeks, she somehow looked even more pitiful than Azzi thought was possible.

Azzi groaned, already feeling herself cave. “You are so damn manipulative.”

Paige only blinked innocently.

Sighing in defeat, Azzi shook her head. “Fine, fine.” She tugged off her clothes, grabbing a hair tie from the counter and quickly twisting her hair up into a bun. “But I swear, if you try anything, I’m leaving you in here.”

Paige barely reacted, her arms already reaching for Azzi as she stepped in.

The second Azzi was in the shower fully, Paige latched onto her, her arms winding tight around Azzi’s waist as she buried her face in her neck.

Azzi huffed a laugh, wrapping her arms loosely around Paige in return. “How am I supposed to help you if you’re latched onto me like this?”

Paige mumbled something against her shoulder, her voice barely audible over the water.

Azzi sighed, rubbing a slow hand up and down Paige’s back. “What was that?”

Paige nuzzled closer, her breath warm against Azzi’s skin. “Just five minutes,” she mumbled sleepily.

Azzi shook her head with a small smile, resting her cheek against the top of Paige’s damp hair. “Whatever.”

Paige’s “five minutes” had turned into something much longer, and Azzi was almost certain she had dozed off for a moment. At one point her breathing had slowed, and she even swayed slightly, forcing Azzi to tighten her hold to keep her upright.

Eventually, Azzi sighed, pressing a kiss to Paige’s damp forehead. “Alright, sickie, time to actually shower.”

Paige groaned, not lifting her head from Azzi’s shoulder. “M’tired.”

Azzi laughed softly. “Yeah, I noticed.” She reached for the shampoo, squeezing some into her hands before gently lathering it into Paige’s hair. Paige hummed at the sensation, her body still slack against Azzi’s.

“Y’know,” Azzi started, working the shampoo through Paige’s blonde hair, “I think you might be the neediest sick person on earth.”

Paige, eyes still closed, barely reacted. “Not true.”

Azzi chuckled. “You literally manipulated me into showering with you.”

Paige cracked one eye open. “I was using my resources.”

Azzi snorted, shaking her head as she scrubbed her fingers along Paige’s scalp. “You’re unreal.”

Paige let out a quiet sigh, tilting her head slightly into Azzi’s touch. “Feels nice.”

Azzi smiled softly, her fingers slowing as she massaged gently. “Good.”

For a few minutes, they stayed like that, talking in quiet murmurs as Azzi washed Paige’s hair. But when Azzi reached for the showerhead to rinse, she suddenly burst out laughing.

Paige frowned, eyes barely open. “What?”

Azzi pointed. “Your nose is running. You look so cute.”

Paige blinked, reaching up sluggishly to swipe at it. She let out a dramatic whine, turning her face into Azzi’s shoulder. “Stop laughing at me. You’re being mean.”

Azzi, still chuckling, rubbed soothing circles on Paige’s back. “I’m literally washing your hair. How am I being mean?”

Paige huffed, but she didn’t argue, her arms tightening around Azzi’s waist.

Once Azzi finished rinsing Paige’s hair, she repeated the process with the conditioner, her fingers gliding gently through the strands. Paige, still half-asleep, barely moved, only murmuring a quiet “thank you” as Azzi worked.

When her hair was fully washed, Azzi grabbed the loofah, squeezing some soap onto it before handing it to Paige. “Alright, drama queen, last step.”

Paige took it with both hands, blinking at it as if it weighed a hundred pounds and Azzi was asking her to do the impossible. Azzi smiled as she watched Paige sluggishly drag it across her arm, her movements slow and lazy.

Shaking her head fondly, Azzi leaned against the shower wall, watching Paige struggle through her own shower routine. “You’re adorable.”

Paige shot her a tired glare, but it held no real heat. “M’not. I’m sexy.”

Azzi grinned. “You sure are, baby.”

Paige rolled her eyes weakly as she continued to wash herself.

As soon as they stepped out of the shower a bit later, Paige grabbed a towel, rubbing it over her damp skin before letting out a pitiful sigh. “Baby…”

Azzi, already drying off, glanced over. “What?”

Paige’s bottom lip jutted out just a little. “Lotion me.”

Azzi scoffed, shaking her head as she reached for the bottle even as she said, “No.”

Paige grinned, completely unbothered. “You will because you love me.”

Azzi muttered something under her breath as she squirted lotion into her hands, rubbing them together before kneeling in front of Paige. “Alright, princess, hold still.”

Paige hummed happily, choosing to ignore the nickname, as Azzi smoothed the lotion over her legs, then up her arms and shoulders. When Azzi got to her back, she let out a small sigh, enjoying the feeling of Azzi’s hands working gently against her skin.

Azzi, however, was mumbling the whole time. “You’re so lucky I swear. What kind of grown woman begs to be lotioned?”

Paige, grinning, tilted her head back dramatically. “A very smart one.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but continued, making sure Paige was moisturized before finally stepping back. “There. Happy?”

Paige smiled, grabbing her boxers and shirt. “Very.”

As she pulled her clothes on, she reached for the towel, handing it to Azzi. “Here. Since someone forgot to bring clothes in here.”

Azzi snatched the towel with narrowed eyes. “Someone was too busy taking care of their needy girlfriend and I was even supposed to get in with you.”

Paige just shot her a smug look before walking out of the bathroom.

Azzi followed, wrapping the towel around herself as they made their way back to the room. As soon as they stepped inside, Paige flopped onto the bed, lazily watching as Azzi grabbed her own lotion and began rubbing it onto her arms and legs.

A slow smirk spread across Paige’s lips. “Damn.”

Azzi raised a brow. “What?”

Paige’s eyes flickered over her, gaze appreciative. “You just look good doing that.”

Azzi huffed, shaking her head as she continued. “You’re ridiculous.”

Paige grinned. “Just being honest.”

Azzi ignored her, finishing up before slipping on some clothes. But as soon as she was dressed, she made her way to the nightstand, grabbing the medicine with a smug grin.

Paige’s smile immediately dropped.

Azzi turned, shaking the bottle with a huge smile. “Time for round two.”

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. “I hate you.”

Azzi smirked, walking over. “No, you don’t.”

Paige peeked her eyes open, already pouting. “I do right now.”

Azzi chuckled to herself shaking her head at the dramatic groan that left Paige’s lips.

"You act like I’m torturing you," Azzi teased, shaking the little measuring cup as she poured the thick liquid into it.

Paige turned her head away stubbornly. "I don’t want it."

Azzi sighed, tilting her head. "Paige Madison."

At the sound of her full name, Paige let out a loud huff, reluctantly sitting up just enough to take the tiny cup from Azzi’s hands. She threw it back quickly, grimacing as she swallowed, before thrusting the empty cup back at Azzi with a deep scowl.

Azzi smiled sweetly. "Thank you."

Paige narrowed her eyes. "I hate you."

Azzi only grinned wider, unfazed. "No, you don’t."

Paige huffed again but didn’t argue, slumping back against the pillows.

Azzi brushed a few strands of hair out of Paige’s face before softly asking, "Are you hungry?"

Paige barely opened one eye, her face still scrunched up from the medicine. "No."

Azzi exhaled, tapping her fingers gently against Paige’s shoulder. "Can you try to eat something for me?"

Paige groaned, shaking her head as she clung to Azzi’s arm. "Don’t wanna. Just wanna cuddle."

Azzi sighed in defeat, but there was a fond smile on her lips. "Okay, pretty," she murmured, reaching for the two pills she had set aside. She handed them to Paige, along with a water bottle. "At least take these first."

Paige wordlessly took the pills, swallowing them with a sip of water before tossing the bottle aside and immediately grabbing at the hem of Azzi’s shirt. She tugged insistently, mumbling, "Off."

Azzi raised an eyebrow but didn’t fight it, pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to the side. As soon as the fabric was gone, Paige wasted no time in curling up against her, pressing her cheek against Azzi’s bare skin with a content sigh.

"You’re so needy when you’re sick," Azzi teased, wrapping an arm around Paige’s waist.

"Sshh. M’ comfy," Paige murmured sleepily, nuzzling closer.

Azzi ran her fingers through Paige’s damp hair, letting the quiet settle between them. After a few moments, she softly said, "You know, if you ate something, you’d probably feel better faster."

Paige whined into her chest, shaking her head. "Don’t wanna."

Azzi smirked. "You’re impossible."

Paige’s lips barely curled into a small, tired smile. "You still like me so I don’t care."

Azzi pressed a kiss to the top of Paige’s head, her voice softer now. "Yeah, I do."

Paige hummed in satisfaction, her breathing growing heavier as Azzi’s fingers continued threading through her hair. The rise and fall of her chest slowed, her words becoming more incoherent.

Azzi smiled when Paige mumbled something almost too softly to hear. "What was that, baby?"

Paige barely lifted her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I said… you smell nice."

Azzi let out a small laugh. "Thank you."

Paige lifted her head slightly, her heavy-lidded eyes flickering to Azzi’s lips. Azzi immediately caught on, already knowing what Paige was about to ask before she even said it.

"I wanna kiss," Paige murmured, her voice still raspy from being sick.

Azzi sighed, shaking her head. "I’m gonna get sick, baby."

Paige pouted dramatically. "I’ll take care of you."

Azzi snorted, giving her an unimpressed look. "You can’t even take care of yourself right now."

Paige huffed, her lips twitching slightly. "Well, with you, it’s different."

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the small smile on Paige’s face made it impossible for her to say no. She sighed in defeat. "Fine, commere.”

Paige’s grin widened just before Azzi leaned in, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. It was gentle, lingering just long enough for Paige to let out a small, content sigh against her mouth.

When Azzi pulled back, Paige was already giving her a goofy, smile. "One more," she mumbled.

Azzi shook her head but indulged her anyway, meeting her lips again. This time, Paige took it a step further, sliding her tongue past Azzi’s lips in a way that made Azzi swear she wanted to kill her.

"You’re unbelievable," Azzi mumbled against her lips, but she didn’t pull away—not until she actually needed air. When she finally did, she groaned, dropping her forehead against Paige’s. "I’m definitely going to be sick now."

Paige only smiled, looking far too pleased with herself. "Worth it."

Azzi scoffed, but before she could say anything, Paige was already tugging her into a laying position, wrapping herself around Azzi as she rested her head on her chest.

Azzi sighed, threading her fingers through Paige’s hair again. "You’re such a pain in my ass."

…

The soft glow of the TV flickered across the room as the basketball game played on, the commentators’ voices blending into a low hum. Paige had insisted they watch, using her sickness as an excuse to get her way. Azzi, of course, had relented—because there was no winning against a sick and pouty Paige.

But after some time, Azzi noticed Paige’s breathing was slowing, her body growing heavier against her own. A telltale sign that she was drifting off.

Azzi glanced down, smiling as she saw Paige’s eyes fluttering closed, her lips slightly parted in sleep. Shaking her head fondly, Azzi reached for the remote, turning off the TV. She pressed a lingering kiss to Paige’s forehead, mumbling, “Goodnight, sickie.”

From the depths of sleep, Paige barely mumbled, “M’not sick.”

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh at the blatant lie. “Right,” she murmured sarcastically, closing her eyes.

Before she could fully settle, Paige weakly reached up and pinched her side—a lazy, half-hearted protest. Azzi rolled her eyes, gently swatting Paige’s hand away.

“Go to sleep big head,” she whispered.

Paige didn’t respond this time, already too far gone. Azzi sighed, wrapping her arms a little tighter around her, letting the warmth of Paige’s body lull her into sleep.

Paige, as expected, drifted off first, her breathing soft and steady against Azzi’s skin. Azzi stayed awake a little longer, listening to the peaceful rhythm of it, before finally closing her own eyes, letting sleep take her too.

[heeluvv]

𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

pairing ⟢ ghost! lee heeseung x human! reader

genre ⟢ smut (slight, not too bad)

warnings ⟢ supernatural, dubcon(?), possessive behavior, dark/haunting, etc.

natty's notes ⟢ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.

the house had been abandoned for years, yet it felt lived in. the dust layered thickly over forgotten furniture, but the air carried something else―something alive. or perhaps, something not quite dead.

you had moved in only days ago, drawn to its eerie charm despite the whispers from the locals. "don't go near that house," they'd said. "it's cursed. haunted."

but you didn't believe in ghosts. at least, not until him.

he appeared on the fourth night, the first few days had been uneventful―just you, your boxes, and the occasional creak of old wood settling under your footsteps. but on the fourth night, you woke to a presence. it wasn't a sound, not even a shift in the air, but something deeper, something primal.

your breath hitched as you sat up in bed. the moon barely lit the room, yet in the dim glow, you saw him.

a man―no, a figure―stood near the window. his frame was lean but strong, clothed in nothing but the shadows wrapping around him. his eyes, dark and endless, held yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"who―" your voice faltered.

"heeseung..." the name rolled off his tongue like a secret, hushed and forbidden.

your heart pounded. "you―what are you doing in my house?"

a smirk played at the edges of his lips. "your house?" he mused, stepping closer. His movement was fluid, almost unnatural, like he wasn't walking but rather gliding through the space between worlds.

"this was mine long before it was yours." your breath caught when he neared the edge of the bed. despite the ghostly aura that surrounded him, he felt solid, real. and the way he looked at you―like he could devour you whole―made heat coil low in your stomach.

"you should leave," you whispered, though even you weren't convinced by your own words.

heeseung tilted his head, amused. "do you really want me to?"

his fingers brushed against your arm―cold at first, sending goosebumps across your skin. but then, as if your body willed it, warmth spread in its place.

your lips parted, though no sound came. you should have been scared, but the only thing you felt was desire. a longing so deep it made your skin prickle.

heeseung smirked at your silence, leaning in until his face was mere inches from yours. his breath, cool and ghostly, fanned against your lips.

"i've been watching you," he admitted, voice dropping lower, more intimate. "every night since you arrived. do you know how difficult it is to want something you can't touch?"

your thighs clenched at his words. "you're touching me now."

he chuckle was dark, filled with something dangerous. "not nearly enough."

before you could react, his hands ghosted down your sides, skimming over the thin fabric of your sleepwear. his touch left a trail of fire in its wake, making you arch instinctively.

"heeseung―" you breathed, unsure whether you were warning him or begging him.

he didn't wait for permission. his lips met yours―not in a kiss, but something far more sinful. he hovered, letting his mouth brush against yours, teasing you with the sensation but never fully giving in.

"you feel that?" he murmured, his lips tracing your jaw, neck. "even death couldn't keep me from you."

your fingers curled around his shoulders, surprised by the solidness of him, the way his body shifted between the ethereal and the tangible. it was intoxicating, the way he existed in both worlds―just enough for you to feel him, but never enough for you to keep him.

his hands roamed lower, fingers skimming beneath your gown, making your breath stutter. every touch sent sparks racing through your veins, setting you alight.

"tell me to stop," he challenged, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. but you didn't. you couldn't.

instead, you pulled him closer, needing him, wanting him, consequences be damned.

heeseung groaned against your skin, his grip tightening. "you don't know what you're inviting in, sweetheart."

his mouth finally met yours―fully, deeply, hungrily. his lips were cool, but the heat between you burned hotter than anything you'd ever known. he kissed you like he had waited lifetimes, like he had craved this for centuries. and maybe he did. maybe you were his unfinished business. maybe you were always meant to be haunted by him.

his kiss was an unraveling―slow yet brimming with a hunger that threatened to consume you whole. his fingers curled around your waist, pressing you into the mattress, the weight of him both foreign and intoxicating. his body hovered over yours, not quite solid, not quite smoke, but something in between.

his lips left yours only to travel lower, tracing the delicate line of your throat, down to your collarbone, lingering at the sensitive spot where your pulse thrummed wildly beneath your skin. you gasped as his tongue flicked out, cool against your heated flesh, sending a shiver down your spine.

"heeseung," you whispered, your voice caught between a plea and a prayer.

he chuckled, low and dark, the sound vibrating through. "say my name again."

"heeseung," you breathed, and the way his name rolled off your tongue had him groaning against your skin.

his hands moved with an eerie grace, slipping beneath the fabric of your sleep gown. his touch burned―cold at first, then warm, then searing. he was becoming more solid, more real, the longer he lingered in your presence, as if your very essence was pulling him back from the void.

"you're making me stronger," murmured, almost in awe. "do you know what that means?"

you shook your head, unable to form coherent words as his fingers traced the bare skin of your waist, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your hips.

heeseung lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours, something unreadbale swirling in their depths. "it means i can touch you―" he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just beneath your ear, "i can have you."

his lips crashed against yours again, harder this time, more desperate. his kiss was fire and ice, a contradiction in every way, consuming and freezing all at once.

there was no hesitation, restraint―only the raw, unrelenting need that had been brewing between you since the moment you first saw him standing in the moonlight.

his name fell from your lips like a mantra, over and over, as he worshiped your body with ghostly reverence. he moved like he was memorizing you, etching your form into the fabric of his existence. as if by holding you, touching you, he could anchor himself to this world.

and in that moment, you weren't sure who was haunting who.

he moved with an urgency that was almost desperate, like he'd waited lifetimes for this moment. his lips found yours again, searing and demanding, his hands gripping your hips as if he was afraid to let go. and maybe he was. maybe he feared that once he had you, you'd slip away, leaving him in the void where he had been trapped for so long.

your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer, pressing yourself against him as if that would be enough―if he would ever be enough.

his breath came ragged, his lips trailing down your neck, lingering where your pulse pounded wildly beneath your skin. "you feel so alive," he murmured, almost in awe. "so warm."

his name left your lips in a gasping moan as he moved, as he possessed you in a way that was more than just physical. he wasn't just touching your body― he was consuming your soul, pulling you into him, binding you to him in a way that couldn't be undone.

the room felt charged, the air thick with something unseen, something otherworldly. the shadows flickered along the walls, moving in sync with the rhythm of your bodies, as if the very house itself recognized what was happening―recognized that this moment was something beyond human, beyond mortality.

you shattered beneath him, around him, your body trembling as pleasure ripped through you in waves, drowning you in him, in this moment, in everything.

heeseung groaned, his grip bruising, his breath sharp and uneven as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. he stayed there for a moment, his body pressed against yours, his chest rising and failing in time with yours.

then he lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours, burning with something possessive, something final.

he leaned in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "you're mine now. forever."

and you knew, with every fiber of your being that he meant it.

natty's notes ⟢ the warnings might be wrong or i might've missed a few but oh well, hoped you enjoyed!

[moonandst4rs]

“She’s always a woman to me”

── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ──── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Masterlist

AARON HOTCHNER X F!READER

WC: 673

Summary: Aaron sees you for you. He sees the woman behind the job

Warnings / Content: Inspired by She's always a woman - Billy Joel. no use of y/n, no dialogue

A/N: Feel free to ask questions or simply chat. Any feedback and requests are welcome !! Reblogs and comments are very much appreciated <3

Being a woman is hard. Being a woman in power, working as a Section Chief in the FBI only magnifies the weight you carry. It isn’t just the job, it’s about navigating Bureaucratic nonsense. You have to balance authority with expectations, from yourself and others. Five teams. Five different teams of personalities, skills and egos yjay you have to manage day in and day out. Some are polite and show you respect—others, not so much. Aaron Hotchner’s team, to their credit, are professional. Mostly.

You’ve grown tough over the years. You had to. The world doesn’t let women in your position be soft without paying the price. If you’d let yourself be trampled, ignored, or undermined even once, you wouldn’t be here now, standing tall as Section Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. The toughness, it isn’t armour, it’s more like something you’ve learned to carry with grace. You got here by knowing exactly when to hold your ground and when to bend, ever so slightly, so the world doesn’t break you. From a wide-eyed field agent to Section Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, you’ve learned that balance. And you’ve learned how to carry the weight of other people’s lives along the way.

You do your job well. You’re proud of that. You make decisions not just for today, but for the future, for the safety of your agents, your teams. You’re steady, calm under pressure, always managing to keep the pieces from falling apart. You have to. But not everyone sees it that way. For some, you’ll always be the one in the way, the one enforcing rules they don’t want to follow. They call you harsh, cold, rigid. They talk about how you won’t let them work however they want. They forget there’s a reason the rules are there, a reason you stand so firm.

The names they call you, the insults, the accusations, they don’t hurt like they used to. There was a time when you’d lie awake at night, wondering if they were right. Now, you barely blink when they throw words your way. If anything, you’ve become somewhat detached, wishing, in a darkly amused way, that they would at least get creative. Give you something new to roll your eyes at. You’ve heard it all before. The same tired jabs, the same predictable bitterness. They don’t know how strong you really are, and they never will. Not the way Aaron does.

Aaron. He’s always there, quietly watching. He knows you can take it, he knows you’ve taken far worse, and that you’ll keep taking it because you refuse to let them see you falter. But even so, he insisted stepping in. Not always, and not in ways that make a scene, but it was enough. Enough to remind you that you don’t have to fight every battle alone. He challenges the ones who disrespect you when you’re not looking, stands by you when the weight of the world starts to feel a little too heavy. And even though you never asked for his protection, you’ve come to realize it’s something more. Something softer, something that breaks through the noise and makes you feel…seen.

You never wanted anyone to fight for you. You don’t need it. You’ve spent your life proving that you’re more than capable of fighting for yourself. But Aaron doesn’t fight to save you; he fights to remind you that you’re worth protecting. And in those moments, when his quiet strength meets yours, you realize just how much that means to you. More than you’d ever let on.

Despite everything, the long nights, the endless pushback, the harsh words, you keep going. Not because you’re unbreakable, but because you know what’s at stake. You fight for your teams because they deserve it. You stand firm because that’s who you are, and because you believe in the work you do, even when others don’t see it. And maybe, just maybe, because you know that there’s someone, someone like Aaron, who sees the woman behind the title.

[nylauninterrupted]

CL16 x Reader [The Vampire who Enjoyed Brownies]

before reading: I'm getting back into writing, so this might lack depth, please be patient with me<3 As for requests, you can still send them in, I'm just slow at working through them! Love, Nyla

summary: A handsome man moved in next door. After he introduced himself you two clicked, to the point where you'd often hang out after work. One evening you brought him brownies and came across a teacup with bloody residue in his sink...

content warnings: vampire!Charles, biting, descriptions of anatomy, mentions of blood, blowjob, smut smut smut, unprotected sex, dom!Charles, non proofread

word count: 3672

We've all heard of vampires. Vile, stealthy creatures, lurking in the shadows, craving, yearning for the blood of innocent humans. Their claws are sharp and twisted, making them perfect to ravage the human body. Their teeth are rotten and yellow, their fangs make them unable to close their mouth fully.

They (very conveniently) only come out at night, providing the best solution to children's curiosity, causing them to be scared to come out from under the covers, until dawn. At least in my day it worked, making the girls from the countryside frightened of even taking a step out the door after midnight.

Well, actual vampires are slightly different, from the tales we have been told before bed for centuries. They certainly do come out during the day. Their nails aren't exactly claw-like, most of them actually take care of them very well. Their teeth is like any other, the fangs appearing only when they feel the need to feed.

Vampires are more subtle than stories say, ravaging people's bodies by sinking their hands in their guts is a bit too messy for them. Not every vampire's goal is to kill the victim. Some are actually quite tame, choosing to find a lover that will understand their nature and feeding on them occasionally.

Animal blood is the trend right now, as morality and awareness of human emotion increased over the years.

It's a common misconception that vampires feed on blood only. In reality, they need different kinds of nutrition just like we do, just accompanied by a bit of hemoglobin. My boyfriend for example is a fan of brownies.

When a guy moved into the apartment next to yours, the one that had been empty for at least a couple of months, you didn't think much about it. Why would you, really?

You just got off work when he knocked on your door and introduced himself. His stance was a bit awkward and looked uncomfortable. It took a few minutes of chatting before his shoulders relaxed.

His name was Charles, and he was a bit older. He looked about twenty-seven, dressed in an elegant way, almost old-fashioned; you've only seen him wearing a hoodie once. Otherwise, his casual was most men's elegant. Which you appreciated, really; the turtlenecks, coats, and occasional necklaces complemented his beauty well.

You exchanged numbers, and all was well. The texts you sent to him were always sweet and polite. His responses were always punctuated, yet still quite charming.

Everything worked out fine between the two of you; you were a bit surprised to have a neighbour who took time to get to know you and wanted to spend time with you. You didn't mind really, especially considering your way to destress—whenever you felt on edge, you'd whip up some baked goods or some kind of dish.

It became your routine to send a quick text to Charles, proposing to have a bite. Although now, thinking about it, your choice of words was quite ironic.

So there you were, on a quiet and rainy Tuesday evening, knocking on your now favourite neighbour's door.

"I'll be right there!" His soft voice sounded from behind the door. You smiled to yourself, biting the inside of your lip a little. You found him very charming and felt comfortable around him, to the point where you looked forward to spending some time with him after work.

He opened the door, standing in front of you in some simple jeans paired with a white shirt and a long-sleeve beige polo over it. It looked simple, yet he wore it so well.

"Hi," he spoke, his smile audible in his voice. He enjoyed the evenings spent with you as well. More than you knew.

"Hi," you replied in the same manner, a smile forming on your face. "I made brownies."

His face lit up visibly as he looked at the plate of freshly baked brownies that you were holding. He smiled and looked back at your face, admiring it for a second or two.

"Would you like to come in?" he asked, taking the opportunity to spend more time with you and get to know you better. He grew quite fond of you over these past few weeks.

"I'd really like that." You smiled and walked in. He closed the door behind her while you went to the kitchen and set the brownies down on the counter.

He clearly didn't expect a visit tonight; his apartment was a bit more messy than usual. You didn't mind, though; you smiled a bit at some unfinished work sitting on the table next to his laptop.

Just as Charles walked into the kitchen, you turned towards the sink. Seeing your movement, his eyes widened. He sped up, trying to take your attention away from it.

"No, wait..." he started, his voice filled with sudden desperation, just as you looked down into it. You saw a pretty teacup with some dark residue at the very bottom of it.

"Don't worry, your kitchen is not that messy," you replied reassuringly, thinking that he is just worried that you might judge him for the mess.

Just as he worried, you leaned a bit towards the sink, intending to wash the cup and help him out a little, when a metallic scent hit you. It was weirdly familiar, and something in your mind clicked as your fingertips locked on the teacup's rim.

You looked back at Charles and saw something close to fright in his expression. There was sheer anxiety present in his green eyes, making them seem darker than usual. He didn't try to stop you anymore; it was too late; you both knew that.

You brought the teacup closer to your nose, taking a whiff, to make sure that was the source of the smell. It was easy to identify the remnants of the liquid in it as blood. You couldn't mistake it for anything else.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm down. He half expected you to run by the time he opened them again. He didn't dare to hope for anything besides fear from you. But once he did open them, he found you still there, standing in his kitchen, with a teacup in your hand.

"It's animal blood," he spoke quietly, with a soft pleading to it. "I promise you. I can explain."

You turned around and started washing the teacup for him, without saying anything just yet. You didn't know what to say after all. It was hard to believe that your neighbour would drink blood. He wasn't a psycho, you knew that, which is why there was only one possible explanation for it.

"I'm... I need blood to survive." Charles admitted, watching you as you moved in his kitchen, "I am a vampire. I'm sorry."

You paused and turned back to look at him. You still didn't understand the situation; maybe you just couldn't comprehend it. But despite a reasonable weariness you felt, you also trusted your own instinct. And your instinct was that Charles isn't a bad person.

"Why are you sorry?" You asked, "It's not like it's your fault, no? I mean, I didn't find you sucking someone dry or anything; it's... It's just a teacup. With animal blood."

Charles looked at you with surprise, disbelief almost. He never would have expected this level of understanding from anyone. Anyone. Even though he considered you a friend and a good neighbour, he couldn't even imagine that you would be okay with what he was.

"You're... I didn't expect you to be... Okay with it. Not just like that." He spoke, looking at you with a newfound kind of fondness. Sure, you were cute before and your personality was great, but this... This sort of behaviour just made him like you more.

"So... do you only like blood and accept the brownies out of politeness, or are they actually enjoyable?" you asked, in an attempt to put him at ease

He read your intentions correctly and smirked a little, letting out a breathy, amused laugh, with slight relief in it as well.

"They are absolutely spectacular. I promise." Charles smiled, tilting his head at you, taking in the view. He couldn't get enough of you. Your smiles, words, all of it. To him, you were as beautiful and as important as the sun was to the moon.

"I expected you to run," he admitted, his eyes softening a bit as he kept looking in your eyes, while his shoulders began to relax slowly, the anxiety finally leaving his body.

"I like spending time with you too much to pass up on it just because of vampirism." You made a joke without much thinking, not realising how... intimate your words might have sounded.

"Oh, really?" Charles asked, a smirk appearing on his face once more. "You like me that much?" 

You hesitated, looking away for a moment. You just found out that Charles, your handsome, sweet neighbour who you grew so fond of, also happened to be a vampire. And strangely enough, you didn't mind it.

'To hell with' it'—you thought.

"More than you know," you answered, your voice growing more serious and genuine, as you gazed back into his eyes again. Charles's expression changed in a similar way as yours; he understood what you were getting at.

"Do you have something to tell me?" He asked in a low, soft voice, taking a couple of slow, careful steps towards you, as if testing the waters for now.

"I don't know," you replied, taking a small step towards him as well. "How would you react if I did?"

Charles's eyes never left yours, not even for a second. It was as if you were the only thing that ever existed. Everything else just didn't matter in that moment.

"I'd be thrilled," he responded shamelessly, getting closer, their bodies very close to one another. He was now looking down at you, the height difference being more obvious, as you were in close proximity.

"Would you like to have a proper date with me?" you asked, deciding not to beat around the bush. You wanted him. You wanted him badly. "With the possibility of a relationship in mind."

Charles's face lit up as well as he took one last step closer to you, completely erasing the gap between you. He placed his hands on your arms, looking deep into your eyes.

"I would love that," he answered, smiling at you, "And can I kiss you?"

"Just kiss me?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, as you used a hair clip to put your hair up. You gave him a knowing smile, making him a bit surprised. He didn't expect you to be that confident.

"While I would love to have you, I don't have any condoms at hand. I didn't exactly prepare for this." He murmured, walking closer and nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

"I was asking in case you would like to bite me," you laughed quietly, "but I guess sleeping together wouldn't be so bad either. I'm on the pill."

Charles opened his eyes and leaned away to take a closer look at you. His olive skin flushed just slightly; he looked embarrassed.

"Ah. Sorry, I didn't mean to..." He started speaking, not wanting to make you feel like all he wanted with you was sex.

"I know, Charlie," you interrupted him firmly. "I'm not worried about that. Besides... I wouldn't tell you about the pill if I didn't want to entertain your idea."

"Aren't you uncomfortable though? Having sex with a vampire, who could very well only want your body and blood..." Charles spoke, knowing how most people would perceive this situation.

"I know that is not the case. Besides... Even if it was, who says you'd be the only one getting something out of it?" You whispered, smiling faintly as you reached out to touch his arm. You began rubbing small circles on it, your eyes focused on him entirely.

"You're..." he began, eyeing your fingers for a second. "More confident than I imagined. I can't say it isn't a turn-on."

Your eyes were like little firecrackers, shining in the dimly lit kitchen. Your lips had a shade of raspberries from a lip tint you applied right before knocking on his door. You were simply breathtaking.

"Uh-huh." You smirked, getting even closer, almost touching his chest. "What else about me turns you on, then?"

Despite your bold words, your voice remained ever so gentle and soft, melodic almost. It was soothing and comfortable, a stark contrast to what was slowly turning into dirty talk.

"Your eyes are nice." Charles whispered, making the move to finally make your bodies touch. "So pretty... And so deep... I could get lost in them."

His touch grew confident as his fingers slipped under your shirt, and his large warm hands began massaging the slightly cold skin on your back, making you shiver.

"Don't get me started on your face," he continued in a low, husky voice. "Such a pretty little thing... So young, yet it feels like your beauty is eternal... I wonder what it would look like, twisted in pleasure..."

"You could always find out," you replied cheekily, playing with his small silver necklace. "I don't mind." 

Charles eyed your fingers wrapped around the chain around his neck and gently grabbed your wrist before putting it close to his lips. Conveniently, your blouse had bell sleeves, so he had immediate access to your skin. He kept looking at you as he began planting small kisses, from your palm to your arm, getting closer and closer to you. 

As his lips inched closer and closer to your neck, his hands found their way on your back again, only this time Charles swiftly untied your corset blouse before carefully sliding it off you, leaving your torso in only a bra.

"You smell delicious," he murmured, burying his head in your neck again. "So delicious... Is that vanilla I smell?"

"Yeah," she replied, and before she could say anything else, she let out a moan as Charles started leaving small bites on her, being careful not to go too far over her cleavage.

He wasn't about to make you walk around with a bloody neck, not to mention the damage he could potentially cause if he got too excited.

"Why... Why don't you bite me properly?" She whispered breathily, making him look up from her neckline.

"I have never bitten a human before," Charles answered calmly. "It can have some... side effects, you see."

"What... kind of side effects?"

"The kind that will make you beg me to fuck you. If I get too excited, my body will release an aphrodisiac," he replied, looking at you with slightly darkened eyes.

"Well... We did kind of seal the deal already, no? I'm curious how it'd feel, and I am sure you are as well."

"It's... We don't know each other well; I do not want to force you to have sex with me." Charles exhaled.

"Charlie, you have my consent before anything happens. You didn't bite me yet, and I am fully aware of the consequences of it. Don't you want to, just a little bit?"

Charles felt his restraints crumbling. He tried to resist, knowing how powerful the aphrodisiac was. But having your eager consent, thinking about the way it'd feel to sink his fangs into you... It was just too much for him.

He felt your blood calling, whispering to him. Your veins seemed to be pulsing. You didn't only smell delicious; you looked like it. Charles closed his eyes, feeling the faint scent of vanilla again.

Without saying anything else, he got closer to you, gently grabbing your shoulders to keep you in place. You did not move, standing there in anticipation as he examined your neck, pinpointing where your jugular veins were.

If he would bite any of your arteries, his healing saliva would not be able to stop the bleeding, killing you instantly. But he was attached to you and didn't want to cause you any harm, so he focused on finding the veins instead.

Charles took his time, examining your neck, before leaning in more and placing his mouth directly on it. Without holding back anymore, he sinks his teeth into your skin, causing a sharp but pleasant pain to shoot through your body, making you whimper in pleasure.

He took small sips of your blood, careful not to overwhelm you with the amount he is taking. After all, he was feeding on animal blood, and he did not require much more. As the warm liquid filled his mouth, he couldn't help but let out a satisfied hum, gripping your shoulders a bit harder.

With every sip, his fangs releasedthe aphrodisiac directly to your veins. You felt your body gradually get hotter, making you want to take off the rest of your clothes.

Charles thoroughly cleaned your neck from excess blood, healing it partially in the process, with his saliva. He looked at you and immediately noticed the change in your eyes.

"Take off my bra, Charlie," you whispered, looking at him with your slightly widened shiny eyes. "Don't be shy."

"Trust me, darling, I am not being shy," he murmured, unclasping your bra with more ease than you would yourself. "Do you want to do it in the kitchen, or would you prefer my bedroom?"

"We will probably be more comfortable on a bed," you giggled, playing with his shirt. Before you said anything else, Charles gave you a nudge, guiding you to his bedroom. He pushed you on the bed, sliding his polo off his body, followed by the white shirt.

You stared shamelessly at his stomach and bare shoulders, admiring them. He let out a light-hearted scoff and looked at you with a smirk. He unbuttoned your jeans and was about to get his trousers off as well when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

"Let me," you whispered, unbuttoning his trousers and sliding them off while biting your lip a little at the sight of the prominent bulge in his pants.

You finally took off your unclasped bra completely, letting your breasts out of the squishing undergarment. You did not take your eyes off him while taking his pants off as well, exposing his member entirely.

He watched you as you took it in your hands and examined it. You looked up into his eyes as you began massaging it, making him hiss slightly. You smiled and took it in your mouth, sucking on its tip, making Charles throw his head back in pleasure and grip your hair.

He could not help but push into your mouth, wanting to envelop his cock whole with your warmth. And you let him, relaxing your throat. Before he could come, he pulled out, panting slightly.

"Not yet." Charles whispered, stroking your face, "Should I make you scream, sugar?"

Before you could respond, he pushed you back on the bed and crawled on top of you, looking down at you as if you were his prey. His large hands massaged your sides as he gazed at you tenderly.

"Please, Charlie," you answered quietly, "I need you right now."

"You sound beautiful like that." Charles grinned, "Asking me so nicely..."

His hands reached down and grabbed your panties, snatching them off you, though he was careful enough not to rip them.

He began rubbing the outside of your pussy, building up the tension in your whole body. You started to whine, which was a sign for him to put his finger in.

Finally, he dipped it inside, massaging your clit, before adding another one. He brought you to a climax in a couple of moments with his skilled fingers.

You panted, looking up at him, as he loomed over your shaking body. Charles smirked again and leaned in, kissing your lips, nibbling on your lip a bit.

"Do you enjoy this?" he whispered. "The thought of a blood-drinking monster, ravaging you, taking whatever he wants?"

You whined breathily, squirming underneath him, desperate for more of the bliss he could provide her.

"Use your words, Sugar," he whispered. "What is it that you crave?"

"You," you whined, trying to catch your breath. "Only you. I need you to make me feel good."

Charles kept looking you in the eye, his orbs practically gleaming with satisfaction.

"I'll make you feel good." he spoke "I can't bear seeing you beg for too long. You're just such a sweet little thing..."

His voice trailed off as he positioned himself directly at your entrance. You shut your eyes, bracing yourself for the sensation you were about to experience. You did not doubt his ability to make you feel good. In fact, a part of you was wondering if you could even take it.

You found your answer when he began thrusting into you, before he picked up on the speed, practically pounding into your clit.

Your whimpers got louder; he let out a couple of breathy moans as well. You couldn't help but enjoy the way his low, melodic voice could twist into such pretty sounds.

As the last moan escaped his mouth and you both finished, Charles pulled out of you, looking down at you tiredly. Before he could say anything, you pulled him down on top of you, burying your head in his neck.

You both remained silent for a while, simply enjoying each other's presence.

"Did you try the brownies?" you whispered, making him grin.

"That's a funny question to ask, right after we've had sex." Charles responded, looking down at you with his little grin, "I did; they were delicious. Maybe we could have some for breakfast tomorrow?"

"You want me to stay?" you asked, almost surprised.

"Darling, if I could, I would never let you go," he responded, pulling you into a warm hug, as he buried his face in your hair and breathed in your scent once more.

[vasilissadragomir]

y’all i really think sid abernathy is intellectually and/or developmentally disabled. idk if this is a common belief or not, but after the audio excerpt i’m more convinced than ever. here’s why:

1. sid’s dialogue and behavior

“you said be your rooster. you said you wanted to get to the woods at daylight.”

“haymitch!” wails sid. “the sun’s coming up!”

sid’s language and cadence suggest a young child. which makes sense; he’s 10, which is a young child. so it’s consistent that haymitch would tell sid to be his “rooster,” which is, of course, a callback to “tuck your tail in, little duck.” however, while katniss’ pet name for prim is humorous and light-hearted, her intention in using it is to make prim feel better facing the imminent reaping.

sid’s joy on reaping day, especially the reaping day of the second quarter quell, suggests sid is at best aware but unconcerned about the day’s proceedings, but realistically, that he doesn’t know or understand whatsoever what will occur. as far as he’s concerned, the most important event of the day is haymitch’s birthday.

granted, sid is 10, and prim, at 12, is reaping age. but there’s no way he can avoid the truth about the games or reaping day at school. and haymitch “resistance is not an option” abernathy would not indulge such wanton disregard for the dangers of the day. acting like the reaping isn’t happening is insolence in and of itself. unless, of course, sid’s behavior is not disregard, but true ignorance. and the only way he’d be ignorant of the reaping is if he is, at least in the eyes of haymitch and his mother, incapable of understanding it.

2. sid needing an explanation about the reaping

“i wonder whether it'll be me or ma who sits him down beforehand and explains about his role in the reaping, how he had to look nice and keep his mouth shut and not cause any trouble. even if the unthinkable happens and his name gets drawn, he's got to suck it up, put on the bravest face he can muster and climb onto that stage, because resistance is not an option.”

as implied by sid’s happy attitude in the excerpt, and now confirmed by the audio clip, sid will need to have the reaping explained to him when he turns 12. but in his worry about sid’s first reaping, haymitch is concerned with telling sid step-by-step what to do. and it’s not just about where to stand or the proceedings themselves. he will have to explain to sid that he needs to be quiet and docile.

no kid in district 12 would need it explained to them how to act on reaping day by age 12. that is, unless the normal district 12 peacekeepers would otherwise know that the kid means no harm in stepping out of line. on reaping day, with peacekeeper reinforcements and cameras, the same lenience would not apply. an intellectual disability would explain not only that, but why haymitch and their mother intend to keep sid in his happy ignorance as long as they can.

3. sid’s death within two weeks of haymitch’s defiance

the most common question about snow’s punishment of haymitch is why he didn’t have sid or lenore dove reaped. on lenore dove, it would be too obvious to reap haymitch’s girl just a year or two after haymitch’s games. that’s especially true if haymitch’s insolence is so egregious as to warrant a punishment as severe as the death of all his loved ones. after a year or two lenore dove would be aged out. to create some plausible deniability for the capitol citizens, the only realistic option for snow to reap would be sid.

with sid, he would have nine years to choose exactly the right moment to punish haymitch in this way. if sid is anything like prim, he’d be beloved in the capitol during haymitch’s games, largely for his youth and innocence. but katniss herself considers prim to be reaped. that’s a particularly strong possibility once prim was older, and thus less angelic and harmless in the eyes of the capitol. even still, rue is evidence that age is not reason enough for the capitol to grow sour at the idea of any tribute’s reaping.

so why wouldn’t snow wait it out for sid? i’m sure we’ll get plenty of reasons in the book, but the best explanation is that it would create blowback for snow if sid was reaped, regardless of his age or how beloved he is in the capitol. the most realistic scenario why that would be true is if sid is too naive and “simple” to be a threat, even as an older teen in a strong, adult-like body.

that’s not to say the capitol is “above” reaping a disabled child (see: the boy from 10 in the 75th and wovey in the 10th). but a beloved younger brother of a quarter quell victor who is ALSO developmentally disabled? the optics would be terrible for snow. that’s especially true if the capitol’s attitude toward people with mental disabilities is anything as patronizing as that of the people of district 12 (see: the people at the hob treating greasy sae’s granddaughter like a pet out of ignorance rather than malice).

4. it’s great device to explain the games to the audience without too much info-dumping

we’re going to spend much of the games in haymitch’s head. even in the midst of a battle royale, that can get boring really fast. that issue was avoided in tbosas by snow’s narration, since the boring bits of lucy’s gray’s time in the games were easily supplemented by snow’s life in the capitol.

with katniss, the quiet parts of the games were broken up with flashbacks. the flashbacks served double duty of keeping things interesting AND creating character development/worldbuilding. we saw katniss’ father’s death, her interaction with peeta, her friendship with gale, and her life at home with her mother and prim. her father’s death explained her character, the bread incident her feelings about peeta, her friendship with gale her worldview, and prim/her mother the inter-12 seam/town tensions as well as katniss’ motivations.

unlike with katniss, though, we know a lot about who haymitch is and what happened to him. we don’t need as much basic worldbuilding (and i doubt he’d have much more information than katniss does at this point, anyway), so the only things left are his family and district 12. for haymitch’s family, which is 100% seam in a way katniss’ is not, we’re going to need a new lens through which to view 12. it can’t *just* be typical single-mother seam life; we got most of that through katniss and gale. haymitch’s story has to provide a new angle.

i think that additional layer *has* to be sid. haymitch, unlike katniss, was himself reaped—what is motivating his survival? what makes him different than all the others in the seam, who are reaped to an inevitable death? a clear explanation could be that sid is incapable of surviving if haymitch dies. even with their mother working, everyone has to contribute. and if haymitch doesn’t have a gale, sid’s protection is even less guaranteed.

sure, haymitch might just have the same maternal instinct katniss has for prim, but that’s one of the key distinctions between them in the trilogy. haymitch loves peeta and katniss like they’re his own, and yet he lies to and betrays them in a way that katniss considers unconscionable. and, imo, if it’s as simple as haymitch wanting to protect sid’s innocence like katniss wants to protect prim’s, the similarities between them become less parallels and more replicas. what’s the point of sid’s death if katniss and haymitch are so similar that the loss of their siblings conveys the same message?

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Wild Gods, part 2

Part 1

1.6k words

A new morning did not bring any change. Still the strange being insist you were his mate retuned to him and still you got very few concrete answers from him.

————

There were blankets wrapped tightly around you when you awoke, but he was nowhere to be found. Maybe you could just creep away if that was the case, just avoid trying to convince him that you definitely weren’t who he thought you were.

As you looked around you spotted a small box that was clearly left to be in your line of sight when you woke up. Curiosity got the better of you and you opened it up slowly to find a beautiful bracelet, a thin gold chain adorned with large emeralds and rubies. The design was familiar and without a second thought you slipped it on before getting up.

The sun was already up and bathing everything in a soft, warm glow. It would have been quite beautiful here if you weren’t being held against your will. Your strange capture was sitting just outside, seemingly making breakfast.

“Good morning, my love” he greeted you cheerfully. “Breakfast is about ready, though it won’t be quite what you were used to before, apologies.”

Cautiously you sat across the cooking fire from him, trying to get a better read on the situation. He offered you food, local fruits foraged, a few small boiled eggs, and some sort of meat that had been skewered and roasted over the fire.

“Who are you?” you asked again.

“The lord of this place” he answered again.

“But what does that mean? What is your name?”

“All of this,” he vaguely gestured around, “is my domain. It’s not much anymore, but I will rebuild it all.”

“And your name?”

“You will remember it in time” is all he answered.

“I need to go home.”

“You are home.”

“I have a family! Parents! Siblings! Friends! They’re going to wonder where I am! I need to go back to them. You have the wrong person anyway!” You went to get up, to storm off and try to find your way back home. At this point you were annoyed by the strange being and from your rejection by the council yesterday, you could care less about convincing him that he was wrong. You just wanted to go home.

“You’re bound here” he called as you stormed off, though you ignored him.

You picked a direction and started walking, just eager to get away from him and you’d figure out the right direction to get home once you were out of the ruins. The tree line of the woods was visible and fast approaching as you made a beeline for it. Right as your foot stepped from the cracked pavers of the ruins and onto the dirt of the woods it felt as though the whole world lurched to the side, sending you stumbling, and when you looked up you seemed to be back in the ruins.

“I warned you” he was sitting not far from you and shrugged.

“Why did you do that?” you snapped at him.

“I didn’t do anything. I am bound to this place, and you are bound to me, ergo you are bound to this place.”

“So unbind me from you, you have the wrong person!”

He sighed, “You know that’s not how this works-”

“No! I don’t! Because you have the wrong person!”

Before you could even register that he moved, he was in front you and had a tight grip on your wrist, claws pressing into your skin, his voice was a low hiss, “That’s impossible! It was a thousand years ago when you were bound to me, when my mark was etched on your soul, you bear the same mark now as you did then. It has taken a long time, but you have finally returned to me and in time you will remember.”

You snatched your wrist away from him and immediately his expression fell.

“I did not mean to snap, I am sorry. It has been a long, lonely, thousand years so forgive my lack of manners” he quickly apologized. “But you are here now, with me, things will go back to how they should.”

You didn’t trust a word he said. He was bound here for some reason, trapped. Benevolent beings weren’t usually imprisoned, though it seemed for now at least you were stuck here too.

The ruins here were in much rougher shape than the rest. Blackened soot clung to the remaining walls, and at the very center where you stood felt slightly sunken in.

“What happened here?” you asked.

“It is a story for another time. Please, let’s go finish breakfast, then we can take a walk and chat.”

You followed him through the labyrinthine ruins back to where you slept last night, the food was still waiting for you. He just watched as you ate, big green eyes seemingly peering into your soul, never once looking away.

“I see you put your bracelet on” he broke the silence.

You glanced down at the bracelet that you already forgot you were wearing.

“That was one of the first gifts I gave you, it makes me happy to see it back on your wrist.”

You just gave a slight nod in acknowledgement.

He had so many questions about how the world was now, so many years confined year had left him quite out if touch, though he didn’t actually seem to be listening to your answers. Instead he was just looking at you with a soft smile and seemed to be wrapped up in his own thoughts.

“Why can’t you leave here?” you asked.

“This is my domain, it is the only place I can be.”

“You said you were bound here though, like trapped.”

“Bound and trapped are not the same, and it used to extend far past the palace. All directions, all the way to the oceans, it was all mine. But a god without followers doesn’t have enough influence to control much” he gave a little shrug, but looked away from you.

“You aren’t a god.”

“Oh? Then what am I?” he asked, “Have you ever seen anyone else like me?”

You hadn’t. He spoke like a human, walked and moved like a human, though he very much was not one. Not entirely anyways.

His head was that of a tiger, and though his body was humanoid, he was covered in soft, striped fur in a tiger’s pattern. His hands were shaped like a human’s, but appeared to have claws that could retract like a cat’s. He had a long tail, and his feet were more akin to paws.

You had heard of demons with animal traits, or humans cursed to take odd forms, though he did not seem particularly hostile, just frustrated.

“Then what are you the god of?” you asked.

“This place, the land, the people here.”

“That’s not how it works! There’s the pantheon and-”

“No. I do not know who your ‘pantheon’ is nor do I care. They are not real. There is the Great Mother, and her children, that is all” his tone was curt, it seemed you may have hit a nerve with him.

You wracked your brain for any mentions of a Great Mother or anything similar to what he had said, but there was nothing you recalled. Unless…

“You’re one of the old wild gods” you said.

The wild gods, a contested topic in scholarly circles. Shrines and temples to ancient gods had been unearthed over the years, but very little remained. No writings or distinct artifacts, just nearly destroyed structures and the occasional mural or mosaic. Some scholars claimed the wild gods once walked the planet and preformed great feats, others claimed they were some sort of warmongering tyrants over their followers, though most believed that they were never real and just an early form of religion.

While you had never seen any of these supposed shrines, the ruins here were far grander than anything else you had heard of, and despite not being far from the seat of the council you had never seen them before. Had never heard of them. It was almost as though they just appeared.

“I don’t know about that name, but I am the god of this area, and I’ve certainly been here much longer than your supposed ‘pantheon’.”

“Then why doesn’t any know there ruins are here? This is pretty close to the city, but no one knows that there here.”

“This place is protected, at least for now, so only my faithful will be able to find it.”

“So why could I find it?”

“As I have said, my mark is on you, you are connected to me so of course you can find your way back home.”

“I’ve been out in these woods plenty of times but never found them before.”

“I do not have an answer for that, but it doesn’t matter. You are where you belong now, I can start rebuilding now.”

You gave him an odd look, everything he said just felt off, “And why wait so long to rebuild?”

“I did what I could: made sure I had a room and somewhere comfortable for you to sleep, cleared the soot from much of the palace, though as I said, a god with no followers doesn’t have much influence or power. But now I have my most devoted follower back, and soon you will bear our children. Our little family will be the beginning of my empire.”

————

Tag list

@mothmansanctuary

[wendichester]

HIII HOW R UUU???? plz can I request Sam x reader who’s got a lot of energy, like a little crazy in a good way bc I feel like Sam would be tired from a hunt or smth and reader would be dancing to music, Sam would pretend to be grumpy but he really finds it cute

(bonus points if reader calls him Sammy a lot🤭)

𖦹๋࣭⭑ time of my life,

summary. you're a little ball of energy and sam finds you adorable!

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 438

notes. HIYA! thank you so much for requesting, buns! hope you like it 🩷

The moment Sam steps into the bunker, all he wants to do is collapse into bed. The hunt was exhausting—long hours, barely any sleep, a gnarly scratch on his shoulder that he’ll have to disinfect later. His entire body aches.

But the second he hears your voice—loud, off-key, and enthusiastic—he knows rest is going to have to wait.

“I’VE HAD THE TIME OF MY LIIIIIFE—”

Sam stops in the doorway to the library, rubbing a hand over his face as he takes in the absolute chaos before him.

You’re in the middle of the room, dancing like you’re at a concert, barefoot and wearing one of his hoodies—his favorite one, at that. The sleeves are way too long on you, covering your hands as you throw your arms in the air. Your phone sits on the table, blasting (I’ve Had) The Time of My Life at full volume.

Sam sighs, leaning against the doorframe. “Really?”

You spin around at the sound of his voice, your eyes lighting up the second you see him. “Sammy!”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s no real annoyance there. “You’re gonna wake up the whole damn bunker.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff, skipping over to him. “Dean could sleep through a zombie attack.”

Sam smirks but doesn’t argue. Instead, he watches as you bounce on the balls of your feet, energy radiating off you in waves. He knows you can’t help it—you’re just like this, always buzzing with life, and honestly, it’s one of his favorite things about you.

You grab his hand, tugging at him. “Dance with me.”

He snorts. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

“Sammyyyyy,” you whine, dragging out his name in the way you know makes him weak.

“I’m tired,” he protests, but you don’t let go of his hand.

“You can be tired and have fun,” you say, tugging him further into the room. “Come on. Just one dance.”

Sam groans, but the way you’re grinning at him—so full of joy and mischief—has his resolve crumbling. He lets you pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck as you sway dramatically to the music.

“There you go,” you tease, voice warm. “Was that so hard?”

Sam shakes his head, sighing heavily, but there’s a fond smile tugging at his lips. His hands settle on your waist, holding you close. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” you hum, resting your head against his chest, “you love me anyway.”

Sam chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I do.”

The song changes to something softer, and he sways with you for a little while longer, exhaustion forgotten—at least for now.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19

[acexsmhking]

Jeff The Killer x Reader

But it's like- Emo Boy from Ayesha Erotica bc you can't tell me -

"Saw this boy at the mall last Week got the kind of look to make me freak that long ass hair with the tightest jeans My Chemical Romance on his tee He looks so sick like he was dying If I said he wasn't hot, then I'd be lying"

"He said I look like Hanna Beth and bitch, I almost lost my breath"

"He bought me tickets to Warped Tour should I go? Well, bitch, for Sure he might not look like he gets bitches But honey, that dick was 11 inches"

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐝

(𝗮𝗱𝗷.) 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱; 𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝗲𝘅𝗵𝗮𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱

: ̗̀➛ Jeff the Killer x FEM!Reader

Summary: You’re approached by an.. odd looking man in the mall, asking for your number. Who are you to deny someone so intriguing

Warning(s): 18+ content, sexual content, mentions of mutilation, mentions of kidnapping, slight spit-play, slight degradation, displays of manipulation

It was a warm, bright day with the perfect breeze. And what better way to appreciate such a lovely day… then spending it inside a AC blasting, three story giant building with friends spending money? Exactly!! There is no better way. Your click of friends has been running around all noon, spending money on clothes and accessories of the likes. Can’t forget that mediocre court food that always hits the spot just right. You were still sipping on your root beer, looking for a new target to spend money on when you noticed someone approaching from your side-view.

You glanced back half-heartedly, more so to not get in their way than anything. But you saw that look, the universal gaze every man had when they wanted to completely ruin your day with their presence. Your click stopped as the man approached you, shifting somewhat awkwardly with this gleam in his eyes. His skin was pale, with what you assumed to be makeup with further dramatic eyeshadow that made him seem like the perfect emo by default.

Who knows, maybe he was the all-emo-overlord.

“ ‘M sorry, Sweetheart. I was just wondering for a moment of ya time?” He asked, however his tone sounded the least bit sorry. You raised a brow, turning more towards him as your friends waited just a few steps away. “What’s up?” You questioned, arms folded as you gave him a suspicious once over. He was by no means unattractive, tall and seemingly well built. He had a surgical mask over the bottom portion of his face, nothing odd as some people still wore them from the pandemic.

It even had a cute covering over it, matching his attire of blacks and whites. “You’re awfully pretty, I was wonderin’ I could take you out?” His voice was gravely, rough. Almost like gravel, he sounded like an Olympic smoker. You pondered for a minute. It had been a while since you even went out for a nice dinner with a guy, and he again wasn’t unattractive by any means. Even was pretty polite. Something about his eyes… they, warned you almost. Disturbed you. Something else attracted you an awfully lot.

Sighing, you gave in. You exchanged numbers with the man, you noticed how his phone was.. much older than yours. You shrugged, perhaps that was just his style or maybe he struggled. Who were you to judge someone? The man left with a wave, promising to text you later. You turned back to your friends, some of them teasing you bout the ‘hot emo boy’ asking you out.

To say that you were nervous stepping out of car was.. a mild thing to say. Jeffery, as you had learned was his name, had picked you up in an old dinky thing. Surprisingly, the interior of the car was well maintained, clean seats and floors. Of course that earned him extra points in your eyes, a man with a clean car? Who cares how old it was at that point.

Jeff had opened the door for you, like a gentleman. You gave a polite, albeit nervous, smile. You both decided on a small, family owned Vietnamese sandwich shop. Ok ok, you had decided, but they have really good cakes!! The date was actually a lot better than you had anticipated. The food was tasty, restaurant rather empty inside and the conversation was amazing. He was a charmer no doubt.

He was all sorts of funny and sarcastic in the best ways. You both had a few interests and some new ones he taught you about. He was also.. quite the smooth talker. You had a blush on your face the whole time. You hadn’t even realized when he started holding your hand across the table, his skin was rough. Far rougher than you expected, it was almost like.. sandpaper. You made no mention but he still apologized, explaining how he’d been in an accident badly burning him.

Of course, you felt bad for him. He was so sweet and funny, and smelled good. Maybe it was him or the freshly baked baguettes, but you were in-traced. Perhaps that’s why you brought him back home, allowing him to sweet talk you further. Maybe his sweet words are why you were in the position you were now, legs pushed up and spread as he practically made out with your cunt. How his tongue switched between exploring your hole and teasing your clit.

Hands gripping the bedsheets below you, mind fuzzy. He hadn’t let you touch him since he got between your legs, “Be a good girl for me and behave, yeah?” He mumbled, bottom half his face hidden as he manhandled you. Nothing clear in your mind, especially not when he reached a hand down, fingers stretching you open. “God I knew this pussy would be good, wish you could see how fuckin’ needy you are.” He growled, fingers curling just right. An embarrassingly loud moan coming from you, the texture of his skin was doing something to you.

It seemed like hours had passed of him just feasting on you, you could feel that knot in your stomach coming to a pop. But Jeff pulled away, fingers leaving your hole as you whined. Hands moving down to grab him and pull him back. But he just laughed, swatting your hands away. You heard him unbuckle his pants, saw him push them down from your fuzzy, tear filled gaze. His fingers were harsh gripping your jaw, some still wet from stretching you out.

Your heart practically dropped out of your ass as you finally got a good look at his whole face. It seemed like two deep, cuts had been placed on the side of his face. Starting from the corners of his mouth to further back. Sure he’d taken his mask off once he started kissing you, but you didn’t manage to see him before that; he was fast. “Aww, what’s wrong, whore? Don’t think ‘m pretty?” He teased, his tone was dark and threatening. You whined gripping his wrist as his fingers tightened, he squeezed your cheeks a clear sign to open your mouth.

You obeyed, out of fear or horniness you didn’t know. Maybe both. But you listened. You opened your mouth, eyes lidded as you watched him. You felt a hot glob of spit fall on your tongue, a moan leaving from the depths of your chest as you swallowed it. Jeff cackled at you; it sounded hallow and mean. “Nasty lil’ thing..” He mumbled, he released your jaw as he settled back between your legs. Jeff places his cock right on your cunt, slowly moving it against you. At times the tip catching on your clit.

You stared at him, eyes glued to what of his cock you could see. Gods he was long, you were horrified. Never had you taken something that big, never. Jeff snickered at your face, moving your legs onto his shoulders as he leaned down to your face. “What, baby? Scared?” You nodded feverishly, your hands digging their nails into his thighs. He only hummed, moving his hips back as he started pushing into you. At least he had the decency to be gentle for this part.

Jeff sighed, more than satisfied with the grip of your cunt. He gave you what he deemed more than enough time to adjust before he pulled back. Your breath caught in your throat, he was so deep. Too deep. He was bullying himself into you, hitting some spot you didn’t know you had. Hell, you didn’t even know you could take something this deep. Your throat tightened, mouth open not a single sound coming out. Your eyes started tearing all over again, he felt so good. Too fucking good.

Your nails started digging harsher into his thighs, almost like a pathetic attempt to stay grounded and push him away at the same time. Jeff wasn’t silent at all, throwing degrading words at you as he became faster. You were so soft, so wet. And you smelled delicious. One hand tangling with his hair as he leaned down, face in your neck as he started leaving marks. Sloppy and wet but harsh. His teeth unrelenting and mean as they dug into you. It was as if he wanted to rip a chunk out of you.

“Come on, slut. Reach down and rub her fer’me.” He groaned, his hips were brutal and hard. You could feel the undersides of your thighs becoming irritated at his brutal pace. Your fingers wiggled between the both of you, finding your clit and rubbing half-assed, speeding circles on it. You could barely focus on breathing correctly, it felt like he was in your lungs. Especially when he pressed your thighs closer to your head, pushing himself up as he loomed over you. Finally a pathetic whimper escaped your throat.

He did look.. pretty. Hot? Sexy? You didn’t know how to describe how he looked, his eyes looked feral as he watched your fingers. His hair ruffled from you and god his body. Something about all this made his lean body look like the sexiest thing you’d ever seen. Jeff was transfixed by your cunt. Watching how she took him in over and over, your pretty nails adoring your fingers. He almost felt bad, almost. What he wouldn’t do to take a pretty thing like you home..

Jeff gathered another glob of spit, letting it fall right on your cunt. Another deep moan falling from his lips as he watched it blend in with everything. “Oh my god! Fuck, Jeff please!” You had no idea what you were begging him for. Neither did he. But he repositioned his hips, picking back up on his previous pace as he looked you in the eyes. Well.. tried. Your eyes were blurred with tears, drool building at the corner of your mouth. Jeff smirked, was that a smirk. You had no clue as you watched him lean in yet again. Tongue trailing up your cheek as he licked your tears.

“You like this cock, slut?” He snickered, hands grabbing your midriff in a bruising hold. You nodded frantically, hands trying to grab onto whatever they could. “Yes yes! Love it.. is so good, too ‘ood!” You gasped, one hand landing on his chest as the other found the bedsheets. You didn’t even have time to brace as your felt that coil snap, body convulsing as you came. Jeff had tried to hold on a bit longer, but the fluttering of your cunt and those cute noises got him.

You felt his hips jitter a bit before stilling. Hips pressed flush against your thighs as you felt him empty himself in you. Mind dazed and fucked out to care. You panted, few more tears falling from your eyes as you looked at him. Jeff pulled out of you with a grunt, slowly as he watched his cum leak out of you. He caught his breath for a moment. He should kill you, really should. Maybe after round two, or three.

Looking at your chest raise and fall, pussy occasionally squeezing him. Nah.. why not just take you home? You have your use for him.

: ̗̀➛ sorry this took my longer than expected. I was like feeling weirdly unmotivated and motivated. I just changed the formate how I usually write the fics and that seemed to work better, LMAO! So sorry that this looks a bit different from how I usually format stuff. I really really hope you like this! I was trying to figure out how I wanted to do Jeff, but I think it’s alright for a first time. I hope you enjoy and thank you for the request! — Ace

[redk1ss3s]

Off Limits. ||Nam-gyu||

Just so happens your Thanos’ ex at the games. And to Thanos you’re off limits. But why should Nam-Gyu listen to him? After all- you’re your own person.

Warnings • Blowjobs, Bathroom bjs, Cursing, (and more?.. idk im not good at warnings😭🤞🏻)

A/n • First time writing.. kinda nervous.. anyways if you don’t like Nam-gyu keep on scrolling- MORE FOR ME! —MDNI—

ꨄ︎ You, sitting over on your bunk just eating. Meanwhile Nam-gyu is staring.. and staring.. and- jesus does he have a staring problem? You think, giving him slight glances over. What was his problem?

ꨄ︎ God you were pretty. “Nam-su, whats ya lookin’ at.” Thanos spoke after done talking to Min-su. “Its Nam-gyu.. that girl over there- damn she-“ “Nahhh.” he leans over just so his hes right up to his ear, hand on his shoulder. “You don’t want that. Fucking whore she is.”

ꨄ︎ Looking over at Thanos, hes already looking at you too. “Ya’ know her?” “Shes ma’ ex. Broke up with me cause-.. Honestly don’t know.” he leans off of Nam-gyu and lays back on the steps and sighs. Yeah whatever. We’ll see.

3rd game

ꨄ︎ The woman voice announced the game Mingle. It was already a few rounds in- he was sticking with Thanos of course. Then after the platform stopped spinning for the 3rd time, the woman voice announced 2 players. Before Nam-gyu could even look over- Thanos had already ran off with Min-su.

ꨄ︎ Fucking jerk. Then- fuck. You grab him by the wrist and pull him into an empty room and lock the door shut. Turning around to look at him and fixing your hair.

ꨄ︎ “kill me now..” he says quietly under his breath- hoping you never heard him. “Uh.. excuse me?” his eyes shoot from the corner of the pink room to you staring at him with your eye brow raised and leaning against the wall like him. “n-nothin’..”

ꨄ︎ The room stood silent for a few seconds. “Your friends with Thanos, yeah?” you break the silence. Hes looking all over the room in awkwardness. But when you talk he doesn’t even bother to look at you.

ꨄ︎ “I’m talking to you.” you say getting annoyed. God he was just like Thanos. “Yeah.” he says plainly. You just nod waiting for the doors to unlock. Not too long after they do. You turn around pushing the door open not saying a word to him. He literally just gives you the side eye when he walks out with you and scoffs walking off to find Thanos.

Before lunch

ꨄ︎ When you got back you didn’t just want to sit around like you usually did. So you went to go try and make a friend. Eventually after trying with many people, you did. His name was Dae-ho and was probably- well.. he was, the sweetest person you have ever met.

ꨄ︎ You guys sat around talking about the games and having a laugh. Not even knowing the daggers Nam-gyu was drilling into the back of your head.

ꨄ︎ But he couldn’t just go up to you. He doesn’t know you like that. It cuts him out of his trance when circle, triangle, and square guards walk in just in time for lunch.

ꨄ︎ You and Dae-ho walk up to the stand and grab the food. You look over and see Thanos, giving the guard a dirty look and behind him Nam-gyu, smiling a little nod ti the guard and walking off behind Thanos. Hah! Like a dog!

ꨄ︎ You smile a little and walk off back to Dae-ho and sit down to eat whatever shit they gave you. Meanwhile Nam-gyu was still shooting daggers. “Nam-su-“ “Nam-gyu.” he corrected him. “Right. Do ya wanna go mess with em? Ya seem.. weird.”

ꨄ︎ Nam-gyu thinks just for a second. “Sure.” Thanos smirks and opens his necklace and pops a pill- offering him one as well. Obviously, he doesn’t decline the offer and takes one too, Thanos not noticing he took one extra.

ꨄ︎ You took a bite of your food and cringed. “God, the least they could do is warm this shit up-“ “Awh man- looks like i can’t get laid today huh? Maybe another time then, right (Name)?” you get interrupted by Thanos coming over teasing you with Nam-gyu behind him. “Nah man- she’ll probably get you and pony tail at the same time! Wouldn’t doubt it.” Nam-gyu chimes in.

ꨄ︎ You give them a ‘the fuck are you doing here’ look and shake it off looking back to Dae-ho “Ignore them. There just fucking moles trying to get there small dicks wet.” you say to him looking back at them half-way through your sentence.

ꨄ︎ Thanos was about to open his mouth to say something, but Nam-gyu nugged his shoulder, signalling for them to just leave. And surprisingly they do. But just as they’re walking away, Nam-gyu looks back and glares at you. You just flick him off and roll your eyes and turn back to Dae-ho to continue your conversation.

ꨄ︎ Later on, its 10 minutes until lights out and you’re getting ready for bed. Damn you wish there was more than just a thin sheet of a blanket. All of a sudden you need to pee. ‘I doubt they’re gonna let me pee now.’ you think to yourself.

ꨄ︎ You walk through the middle of the room, and over to the bathroom door- knocking. “Hey! I need to use the bathroom!” the guard slides the little panel over and unlocks the door letting you in. That was easier than expected.

ꨄ︎ You walk in and are guided to the bathrooms, men and women. Walking into the women stall, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Damn these guards are weird. You walk to a stall, do your business and when you come out walk to the sink and look at yourself in the mirror.

ꨄ︎ For a second you have some peace and quiet. That was until the bathroom door opened, expecting it to be another girl, you only spare a little quick glance. But looking back up fast- it was Nam-gyu?..

ꨄ︎ “The fuck?” you say standing up straight. “They just let fucking pervs in the women’s bathrooms now huh?” raising an eyebrow. He looked.. almost pissed? But why is he so.. holy shit? Ew what the fuck stop thinking like that!

ꨄ︎ “I got a small dick huh, (Name)?” he spits out walking and stopping right in-front of you. What?- oh. You almost forgot about that. “I don’t fucking know? Almost all jerks have small dicks y’know.” rolling your eyes- frustrated not wanting to make chitchat right now.

ꨄ︎ He looks away and smirks clenching his jaw and poking his tongue into his cheek. Holy shit he needed to stop doing that. Then he looks back at you leaning into your ear. “Then, (Name). You’re gonna find out. Right. Now.” you look quickly back at him, confusion on your face. “What?-“

ꨄ︎ Before you could even get out your full sentence, he puts both of his hands on your shoulders and pushes you down on your knees. And when you look up, oh. He’s pulling his pants down. Your eyes blown wide. Not knowing what to do or what to say, just sit there on your knees.. watching your exes friend pull out his already hard dick right in your face.

ꨄ︎ “Small now, hey?” he says breaking you out if your staring, now looking up. When you look up he’s smirking and grabbing his base, tapping it against your cheek. “Why don’t you test the waters?” you furrow your eyebrows feeling him against your cheek.

ꨄ︎ Now hes grabbing the back of your head and before you could think, your mouth is opening and taking him in your mouth all the way. He groans and balls your hair in his fist. Leaning his head back. When he looks down- your eyes and squeezed shut trying not to gag.

ꨄ︎ “Look at me. Now.” you open your eyes and look up at him, tears in your eyes.. what the fuck was happening?! He moves your head in a slow pace- biting his lip and smirking as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

ꨄ︎ So be told.. you have never given a blowjob before. So thats great!.. ha ha.. A little bit goes by of him groaning, he pulls your hair and surprisingly you whine at it. He chuckles and his chuckle is turned into a little moan. He lets go of your hair and you keep bobbing your head.. was he even moving your head all that time?..

ꨄ︎ You grab onto his hip and he grabs onto your neck stopping your head at the base of his dick. Again, he moves his head back and groans.. and your eyes blown wide again. Feeling the warm substance flow into your mouth.

ꨄ︎ He pulls your head off if his cock and you keep your mouth shut tight- not knowing what to do with the cum in your mouth. He pulls up his pants and looks down at you. Biting his lip again, looking unfazed about what he’d just done.

ꨄ︎ He kneels down on one knee and you look at him surprised. He puts his finger on your lip, dragging it down. “Swallow.” for a split second, he’s looking in your eyes. It takes you a second to comprehend on what he’d had said. But.. you do.

ꨄ︎ Closing your eyes shut and swallowing his cum. When you open your teary eyes, he’s smirking..? He slaps your cheek gently “Good.. see ya’ (Name).” and just like that, he stands up and leaves you on the ground, on your knees like a dog. You stare into the distance for a second to comprehend on what had just happened.

ꨄ︎ You walk out of the bathrooms a little bit later and walk up to Nam-gyu and Thanos. Thanos looks over and looks confused. “What ya want barbie doll?” he says looking at Min-su chuckling to himself.. of course Min-su doesn’t laugh with him.

ꨄ︎ You lean into Thanos’ ear and whisper.. “It’s bigger than yours.. I think.” you lean back up smirking and walk away.

ꨄ︎ He turns to Nam-gyu “Stealing my girls now Nam-su?!” he says, acting like his heart broke, putting his hand over his heart. Nam-gyu just goes a giddy smile and leans his head down into his hands.

A/n • yeah so.. idk if this was cringey or not😭 but i literally had to take breaks in between when writing the smut part🙏🏻 tell me if i need to work on my smut or anything cause im thinking of writing more on the squid game characters..

[kirain]

Emmrich giving Rook her first kiss? 😶

I've never written so much romance in my life! I have been absolutely blown away by the requests and everyone's kind words, especially since this is such uncharted territory for me. I tried to keep this in line with the canonical first kiss in game.

I hope it delivers!

The moon hung heavy in the sky, its silver beams spilling through the garden where Vae and Emmrich stood. The evening air carried the scent of night-blooming flowers, a heady perfume that wrapped around them like a song. The peace, the romance—the temptation.

A sense of unease pricked at the back of Vae's mind. Her hands wrung together, a nervous habit Emmrich had rarely seen but fully understood. Her blue eyes, lidded and uncertain, briefly met his before darting away, as if ashamed. He could feel the hesitation in the space between them—the weight of something unspoken, something fragile.

"Vae?" he hummed, his voice kind, coaxing.

She swallowed before trying to speak, her words crumbling in defiance.

They had been dancing around their feelings for weeks, maybe months. Every glance, every lingering touch, every amorous word had built up to this moment of perfection. But now, her face lit by the stars, Emmrich could see it—ambivalence. The way her breath hitched in her throat, the way she swayed ever so slightly towards him, but didn't dare take that final step.

"You've never been kissed before."

It wasn't a question. She had told him she'd never been intimate, but he assumed that, at least—perhaps when she was younger—there might have been a boy who wooed her. Some friend or classmate who, in a moment of awkward, hormonal bliss, took something she was equally willing to give. A simple kiss and nothing more.

"No," she admitted, her blush deepening. "Not by anyone."

Emmrich's gaze softened, his usual sharp confidence tempered by something indispensable. He reached out, slowly, delicately, giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn't. Instead, she let him trace his fingers along the curve of her jaw, his touch light and reverent.

"You don't have to," he said, and she could tell he meant it. "We never have to, if you don't think you can bear it."

"I..." She paused, a tremor in her voice. "I do want to. I just... don't know how."

A persuasive smile tugged at the older man's lips, his dominant hand finding her waist. "Then let me show you."

Vae's breath caught as he stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against hers. His fingers swept over her cheek, until his whole hand settled there, the touch so gentle it sent a shiver down her spine. She liked it, and that was all the incentive he needed, his thumb ghosting over her lower lip.

"Emmrich," she gasped, the sensation new and exciting.

"Just breathe," he purred. "I see you, my darling."

His eyes, fervent but steady, held hers with a quiet patience. There was no demand in them, no expectation—only the promise of something she could choose, if she wanted.

She did want.

She let herself melt into his touch, basking in the way he looked at her—like she was his whole world, precious beyond comprehension. Her legs shuddered.

"What if I'm bad at it?"

Smoothly, as if rehearsed, Emmrich asked, "Have you forgotten I'm a professor?" He grinned, his tone laced with a reassurance that told her she could never disappoint him. "I'll teach you."

"Emmrich..."

"Vae."

He whispered her name like a secret, and she closed her eyes at the sound. Slowly—agonisingly slow—he dipped his head, the kiss nigh. Inevitable. Yet he paused, hovering so close, offering her one last chance to pull away. Instead, she lifted her chin with an earned trust, her silent invitation sending a needy ache through his chest.

Finally, his lips pressed against hers with an exquisite tenderness, careful and unhurried. He didn't demand, didn't take—he simply gave. A brush, a breath, a gentle push that sent heat spiraling through her body. Her hands, unsure where to go, moved to the collar of his shirt, her fingers curling into the fabric, and he moaned, approving yet restrained, holding back for her sake.

Then, he stepped back, only to capture her expression—to make sure she was comfortable. To his delight, her eyes held nothing but desire.

"What a day of unexpected splendor."

To show her how this could be.

Of pure ecstasy.

He dove back in, bringing his lips to her neck before roaming back to her mouth. He poured all his love and devotion into every ministration, hoping to reach the depths of her soul. Then, he lingered, giving her a moment to adjust, to take it all in, before he deepened the kiss just enough to fuel her hunger.

He wanted more—so much more, but he let her set the pace, let her explore the taste of his lips; guiding her, showing her. As she relaxed against the altar behind her, his hand slid back, fingers threading through her hair, cradling her as though she might collapse.

"Mmph..." Vae shivered, the kiss unraveling something inside her she hadn't known was wound so tightly.

A small sound escaped her, and Emmrich felt it—a spark of something untamed, just beneath the surface. He broke away again to meet her gaze, his fingers exploring the elegant contours of her face before gliding down to her shoulders, ready to draw her back in if she willed it.

"How was that, my darling?" he teased, his voice soft as velvet. "A worthy first time?"

Vae's heart raced, her chest heaving as she caught her breath, her cheeks blazing. She could still feel him, her lips tingling with the impression of his own. For a moment, she feared she'd float away, anchored only by his sensual grip. Then, she stared at him, enraptured by the memory, a shy smile his reward.

"...Again?" was all she could manage.

Emmrich chuckled. "As often as you like."

This time, it was her who leaned in first.

[moosesarecute]

Chapter 10: The Shadow to my Flame

Series masterlist

Masterlist

“So my mother asked to curl your hair?” Eris asked Ashe. He looked confused and also worried in a way. She couldn’t detect all the emotions in his look.

“Yes,” she answered him. “I was curtain I was getting fired and that she was only nice to me because of it.”

Eris let out a small laugh. He seemed tense, but Ashe knew he wouldn’t tell her why if she asked.

“I think she misses Lucian,” Ashe continued. “Have you heard anything from or about him?”

Eris shook his head.

“I only know he’s in spring. He never answers my letters. I’m not sure he gets them.”

Ashe was the only one that knew how much his youngest brother meant to Eris. Their family dynamic was hard, and all the brothers had been set up against each other from the start. However, Eris loved being an older brother. He loved seeing his brothers grow and learn. He just didn’t have any way to show it without being weak.

Eris looked very thoughtful, and Ashe realized it was time for a subject change.

“How was the ball?” she asked him instead.

Ashe hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with Eris since ball on Saturday. It was now Tuesday evening. So much had happened in the last week. Ashe felt like she had lived a new life. She had so much she wanted to tell him, but she knew she couldn’t.

She would wait until Sunday and then she could talk to Samli about everything. Especially the kiss. 

“Boring as usual. Only politics and dancing.”

“But dancing seems so nice,” Ashe told him with a small pout.

Eris was a very good dancer, but he never liked it. He didn’t like dance as a way of communicating. Ashe, however, would spent every ball she worked at as a way to look at all the different dances. It felt magical.

“How’s your back?”

“It’s fine. Almost doesn’t hurt anymore.”

With that, Eris pulled her up by her arms and laid one of them on his shoulder and held the other in his hand. His last hand laid at her waist.

“Do, ti, ti,” he sang the rhythm in the lightest voice he could, and then he started the dance.

Ashe couldn’t help but laugh. Both at the dance and at his ridiculous voice.

“You’re stepping on my toes!” Eris said. “I taught you better.”

That only made Ashe laugh even more, but she tried her best to not step on him again.

Eris had taught her to dance many years ago. He usually would dance with her before or after a big ball. And they always laughed their way through it.

Ashe didn’t mind being a servant. She of course wished they would get treated better, but she absolutely didn’t mind the work. But one ball. That was her wish. She just wanted to go to one ball. She had told Eris that, and her friend had since danced with her. He always said it was to prepare her for the day when her dream would come true.

They laughed and spoke for many hours. Even though Ashe’s live had taken a big turn the last week, at least the nights with her friend stayed the same. Or so she thought.

Azriel had read through the documents and the book three times. The book was rules for servants that he stole from Ashe.

Ashe.

Even thinking her name made him weak in the knees. Her soft eyes, calming voice and pretty smile.

“Mate,” his shadows sung.

“Shut up.”

Azriel was pacing back and forth in his office. He felt so stupid. And at the same time confused. And at the same time like he had the biggest crush in existence.

He couldn’t be right. He refused to be right. He felt everything at once.

Had she lied to him? Had he been blinded by the mating bond? Did Ashe at all know about the mating bond?

Please, be wrong.

He usually would just press down his feelings and pretend to forget them, but this. This was too much. He packed down the book, the hair colour, the small piece of hair and the two documents he stole from Autumn.

He felt almost his entire body shake as he made his way to the townhouse, where his brothers would be.

He walked silently into the living room and spotted Cass, Rhys, Mor and Amren. Seeing Mor made him even more nauseous. What had he done?

He looked quickly between Rhys and Cass.

“I need to speak to you two,” he said. He hated how shaky his voice was. And he saw how his brothers were going to make fun of him. They were smirking, however, they made their way to Rhys’ office in silence.

“Okay, brother. What’s going on.”

Azriel felt like he was going to throw up. He was crazy. He must have become insane. It was an insane theory, but at the same time, he found so many things that backend it.

“You okay, Az?”

He looked over and saw how both his brothers looked rather worried. He would just have to jump in and do it.

“You know Ashe?”

His brothers nodded.

“The servant you couldn’t stop daydreaming about in Autumn,” Cass said with an even bigger smirk. “You were basically drooling at her.”

“Shut it,” Azriel told him, even though he spoke the truth.

“What about her?” Rhys asked.

Azriel regretted that he didn’t write down what he needed to say. All the words got mixed up in his head. He should have found a better way to pack in the information. But he hadn’t planned this, so he just spoke.

“She’s a spy for us.”

Rhys and Cass shared a worried glance.

“We already know that.”

Right. Of course they did. He had told them before. This is so stupid, he just needs them to know.

“I think we should get her out of Autumn,” he said.

“Okay,” Rhys answered. “Why?”

“I’m not sure we can trust her any longer.”

Azriel felt like he was going to explode. Why couldn’t they just know what he wanted to tell them?

“What happene-”

“She’s my mate.”

Azriel froze when he realized what he had just said. He didn’t dare to look at his brothers. He had always planned to keep her a secret until they accepted the bond, but after what he had just learned, he needed them to know.

Ashe was his mate. He had known since the first letter. Or, his shadows had known. They would tell him all about her and tell him exactly what she was going through. They called her his mate, and Azriel didn’t know her by any other name until she introduced herself as Flame.

So yes, he had spied on his mate. But it was only to make sure she was safe.

And then when he first saw her in the dungeon, he knew for sure what she was.

He wanted to hold her then. To kiss her and touch her hair. Her beautiful…brown…hair. But he refused to do so. He was going to be strong.

That lasted about three hours, before he snuck into her cabin. He tried to figure out more about her. That’s how he found the brown hair colour and red hairs. His mate had red hair. Mother, he wished to see her with her natural hair colour. Even the thought of it made his heart dance. She would look so cute and sexy. Definitely sexy.

That’s also where he found the book for servants that told him that Ashe was forced to colour her hair.

He hadn’t meant for her to find him there, so he pretended it was a part of being one of his spies. He couldn’t stay away. He needed to know more.

That’s when he learned about all the abuse his mate had gone through. He learned about the pain she was dealing with as they spoke. Azriel wanted to do anything for her. He wanted to make the pain go away. If she had asked him for something, anything at all, he would to it.

Most of the harm had come from the High Lord himself. Why would he hurt her if she was…

After the conversation, he found it even harder to stay away. He needed to protect her. To make sure no one would ever hurt her again. He needed to see her eyes light up in a smile. He needed to feel her warmth and touch her. He didn’t necessarily mean touching sexually, even though he wanted that too. He just felt the need to hold her. Play with her hair. Hold her hand. Kiss her. He wanted to look deep into her amber eyes.

But now, he wasn’t sure he could look into her eyes without seeing…

When he saw her curled hair in the dining room, he lost all self-control. He almost drooled. His mate was so pretty.

He needed help to sneak into the office, but most of all he just needed to see her again. He hadn’t planned on kissing her. But she looked so terrified and when her hand gripped his tighter than usual, he couldn’t help himself.

Ashe had the softest lips he had ever kissed. He had to force himself to stop kissing her, before he went too far to hold back all he wanted to do to her. Her flushed face made him struggle to stand.

He let himself have one last kiss, and then he left.

But know, after he had learned what he had, he felt so stupid. How could he have trusted her so easily? But at the same time, what if he was wrong? Or what if he was right, but Ashe didn’t know? He just wanted her to be the kind, soft and wonderful female he thought she was!

After what she had told him and what his shadows had told him, Ashe had no clue.

However, if Ashe did know…then he had almost doomed the entire Night Court.

“That’s great Az! But why does that mean we can’t trust her?” Rhys’ voice pulled him out of his daydreaming.

Azriel looked at his brothers shocked faces. He saw that they were happy, but at the same time, neither one of them knew how to react. They soon begun to smile instead.

He took a deep breath and hid partially in his shadows before he spoke next.

“I have reasons to believe she is Beron’s daughter.”

Ashe was getting ready for bed. Eris had left a little of an hour ago, but Ashe had been too busy daydreaming over a certain winged male to do go to bed.

However, she was exhausted.

So, when a knock was heard from her door, she didn’t think twice. It was probably Eris coming back to say something or getting something he forgot.

If she had been a little less tired, she would know that Eris never came back to her room in so close intervals. Their friendship was a big secret.

Ashe walked over to the door and opened it. Fully expecting to see her friend or maybe Maria.

However, looking at her from the other side of the door was no other than the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

And he did not look happy.

Taglist: @tele86 @demon-master-zero @kbear8863 @atluky @mis-lil-red

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[carlarosenakilah]

I'm taking a break from The Osix Family and Wilted Ivory

Hi, you've read that right. I'll proceed to go into detail undercut

Warning that the following will be containing very sensitive topics such as su***idal thoughts, mental health issues, and whatever the fuck I went through to get me here and I don't know how to describe nor name them but overall its not pretty.

Getting straight to the point- im drained. I'm in a horrible place right now and I need to take a step back before it might escalate into something worse.

The Osix Family is always something that I will forever dedicate to. It has comforted me, carried me, and saved me from killing myself three years ago.

I asked myself, "If I'm not here, who will tell the story of The Osix Family?"

That made me stay alive, and im greatful for that because if not, I wouldn't have been where I am today standing with the coolest people I have ever met and my amazing partner in crime @alexusespido-dod.

I love Wilted Ivory too, and that's where it gets tricky.

My only plan for Wilted Ivory is to simply tell a story about growth expressed as a musical au. Hence why the art is so simple– not just to match the original Casino Cups style, but just to tell a story that I hope would inspire and comfort others. Of course, I'm happy it gained lota of love.

The Osix Family though is a different story.

Like I said, it means a lot to me, so I put so much time and energy into this series. I sacrifice time that could've been used to study for the next exam, but instead im working on the next few panels or planning the music and etc. Blood sweat and tears (literally) into making sure the art looks good, story is properly conveyed, scenes carefully picked. Even if it gained me bad scores in my exams that made me stress over about, in the end it was worth it to me. I didn't care if I'd be sick an unable to move, as long as I could at least think about it, then I would be happy.

Episode 3 was my worst.

I overworked myself for that episode. I was always in front of my tablet, I never moved out of my seat, I was just there, working on it even if it was 1 in the morning and that I should be sleeping. I told myself: "Everything will pay off! Sure you're in so much pain right now, but eventually it will all pay off! Episode 3 is looking good and interesting! This will FINALLY gain the audience and love the story deserves!"

I was proud.

Until I wasn't.

Reality hit me like a saw. The moment the episode was released I was hopeful. But nothing happened. It was all the same.

And it just hurt how something as simple as Wilted Ivory can easily gain attention and love because it was Cuphead related something well known. Meanwhile, The Osix Family–despite everything–is just barely seen.

I started to doubt myself. To question myself. Was I not doing enough. What more can I do. What should I do. Am I not good enough?

Is the story just not good enough?

That broke me. I began to have thoughts I shouldn't have. I wanted to end it all. I wanted to quit and disappear from the world. Because what was the point in pouring so much love into something only for it to dismissed.

Its not like I simply began having these thoughts.

I've had them over and over again.

As much as I hated involving him, my partner, Alex, had to deal with the many times I nearly ended it. To the point where even if he was in school, he'd go out of his way to stop me, I still feel guilty, even if he said it was fine.

I don't understand myself anymore.

Why do I even have such an attachment to this series? Its just a stupid silly series for funsies isn't it? Why does my life to depend on it?

Unfortunately, it just does.

It sucks. Pushing away my needs for the sake of this passion, only for it to just not go as I hoped it would go. Did I mention I'm also losing followers on the osix family blog? Thats so silly and coquette.

I'm so sorry if im coming off as guilt-trippy, please I don't want it to sound that way, I just want to express how deeply troubled I am because to me it actually DOES HURT.

I envy people who couldn't give a flying fuck about whether or not their stuff goes famous or gets love, I don't even understand why I am so dependent or hungry on whatever attention it gets. I hate that im like this. I want to be free from it but I just crave it.

So, for the sake of my mental health and whatever is left of my sanity, im taking a break, for good.

I will not be updating The Osix Family or Wilted Ivory at this very moment. For how long? It depends on how fucked up I have actually turned out to be today.

I might still post, keyword: MIGHT, its not any update but to just simply draw for myself, but the chances of me posting anything is horribly low.

I'm going to focus on myself, my needs, and whatever makes me happy or have fun with.

To those who supported The Osix Family or even bothered to check it out: Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

It means a lot to me, you have NO idea. Every single like, reblog, comment, hype or even the silliest amounts of theories or thoughts, they make me so happy, it actually heals me.

I can't remember names im sorry, but there was a time someone expressed how they were invested in the lore and loved the world building, it really made my day. Or when someone pointed out some small details on my waiting in a miracle animatic, it warmed my heart.

I have troubles expressing it, but im so, SO greatful.

Especially when some of my mutuals started making OCS FOR THE SERIES?? Like– it felt like a HUGE compliment.

I cant believe im tearing up as im typing this haha im so stupid lmao, but

Thank you. A lot.

And to those who weren't really into The Osix Family, its okay, don't feel bad, sometimes things are just not our cup of tea, I just needed to express my grief, cause honestly bottling it up isn't going to end well for me (and it really didn't multiple times).

I apologize for any false hope or let down your hype as Wilted Ivory was just starting and The Osix Family was finally coming back– but this treatment is overwhelming me that I need to take a step back.

That's all for now.

Thank you for... actually reading, you listening means a lot to me too.

Goodbye.

[cozmowrites]

Francesca

francesca - hozier

+++++

It wasn't like you to wait. Not for anything or anyone. But for him—brash, fiery, and always burning—you found yourself lingering. You stood in the shadow of the training gym, watching the sun drip down into the horizon, your arms crossed as the evening air cooled.

Katsuki Bakugou was late.

You could hear the echoes of his explosions inside the gym, each sharp bang a testament to his relentless drive. Most people would have been angry, or at least annoyed. You weren't sure what you felt anymore.

He burst through the doors a moment later, his hair a messy crown of blonde spikes, sweat dripping from his brow. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, and for a split second, they softened before narrowing.

"You're still here?" He asked, dragging a hand through his damp hair. "Told you not to wait."

"And yet," you said with a faint smirk, "here I am."

He scoffed, but his gaze lingered on you, his usual sharpness dulling. "Shouldn't have bothered."

"I didn't." You stepped closer, your voice quieter now. "I wanted to."

Bakugou wasn't one for grand gestures or poetic words. His love—if it could even be called that—came in fleeting moments, stolen glances, and the way he always stood a little closer to you than anyone else. It was in the way he'd grip your hand when no one was looking or the fierce protectiveness that flared in battle.

But you needed more tonight.

"Why do you do this?" You asked, not bothering to mask the frustration in your tone.

He frowned, his brows knitting together. "Do what?"

"Push yourself until there's nothing left of you," you said, motioning to the sweat-drenched shirt clinging to his chest. "Until you're more ash than man."

Bakugou's jaw tightened, and he looked away, his hands clenching at his sides. "Because I have to."

"No, you don't." Your voice softened, but you replied quickly, and you reached out to touch his arm. "You want to."

His eyes snapped back to yours, a storm brewing in the depths of crimson. "What the hell do you know about it?"

"I know you," you said, your fingers tightening around his arm. "I know that you think you have to prove yourself to everyone. That you think if you stop, even for a second, someone will surpass you."

His silence was deafening, the weight of your words hanging between you. You could see the conflict in his expression—the vulnerability he hated showing, the fear he refused to name.

"You're enough, Katsuki," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to keep setting yourself on fire to prove it."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You don't get it."

"Then make me understand."

For a moment, you thought he wouldn't answer. But then, he exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had finally caught up to him.

"I'm not like the rest of you," he said, his voice low and rough. "I can't afford to be weak. If I don't push myself, if I don't fight for every damn inch, what the hell am I worth?"

"You're worth more than this," you said firmly. "More than your quirk, more than your strength. You're worth everything to me."

The words hung in the air, raw and unpolished. For a heartbeat, he looked at you as if you'd punched him in the gut. Then, before you could second-guess yourself, he pulled you into his arms, his grip almost bruising.

"Idiot," he muttered into your hair, his voice cracking just enough for you to notice. "Why the hell would you say that?"

"Because it's true," you said, your hands sliding up his back. "And because you need to hear it."

He held you tighter, his forehead resting against yours. The world outside the two of you faded, the only sound his uneven breathing and the steady thrum of your heartbeat.

"I'm not good at this," he admitted, his voice so quiet it almost broke you. "At... you."

"You don't have to be perfect," you said, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "You just have to be you."

For the first time, he didn't argue. He didn't scoff or roll his eyes. He simply nodded, the tension in his body melting away as he leaned into you.

"Stay," he said, his voice so soft it was almost a plea. "Just... stay."

And you did. Bakugou was worth it.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Together

Jay Halstead x Reader

You push people away. It's how you cope. Only a chosen few has managed to stick around. Jay is going to prove he's not going anywhere.

You were pulling away. You could feel it and knew Jay could too. The problem? You didn’t know how to not pull away. That little voice in your head that was so damn sure and strong when it came to work was so damn quiet and uncertain when it came to yourself. You loved Jay. You knew that with every fiber of your being but that damn little voice kept whispering “He can do better than you and he's going to figure it out”

As much as you didn't want to lose him as your lover, the thought of losing him as your friend hurt worse. He'd always been there as a cornerstone when you needed him.

When Voight suggested changing partners around you'd seen the fact that Jay wanted to argue written plainly in his eyes but you spoke up and said “I agree Sarge. It's good to switch it up every now and then”

You were partnered with Adam, Kim with Jay and Hailey with Kevin. It was a big change from the usual team but all of you worked well enough together, had for years.

While you were all gearing up to roll out you saw Jay move towards you so you turned towards Hailey “Upton, check that rear strap for me?” She smiled “Of course” and readjusted it slightly then asked you to check hers too. At least by her asking you it didn't just look like you were avoiding Jay, even if he looked like a kicked puppy when you met his eyes.

“Everyone knows what you should be doing. Come home in one piece” Voight said looking around at all of you. You each nodded in turn. You grabbed your long gun then winked at Kim “Don't worry babe. I got your fella’s back” she grinned “I know you do. I got Jay's”

You smiled slightly and Kevin cleared his throat “and Hailey’s got mine if yall care” your smile turned into a full grin as you cut your eyes at him “You know I care Atwater. Anything happen to you I'm fighting the ferrymen to bring you back myself” he grinned “My girl” and bumped his shoulder against yours.

Voight shook his head but you saw a small grin “Do your damn jobs” with that he dismissed you so you rolled out. It was a quick snatch and grab. You wouldn't say nothing should go wrong because you knew your job, anything could go wrong but it should be fairly easy.

The snatch and grab went down just as planned thankfully. Six arrests were successfully made.

You were walking out of the precinct when you heard Jay call your name so you stopped and turned to see him walking towards you with one of those smiles that always made your heart flip “Hey baby. You want to go get a drink or some food or something?”

You shrugged “I'm kinda tired honestly. I was going to just go home and crash” he nodded “I can bring takeout?” He looked so damn hopeful but that voice in your head wouldn't shut up for two fucking seconds screaming about how bad it's gonna hurt if you let yourself love him as deeply as you wanted to just for him to walk away.

“It's fine honey. Um raincheck for tomorrow?” He nodded, his face falling slightly. “Ok, did I do something?” You shook your head “No, why?” he motioned back to the precinct “I've seen you stand toe to toe with Voight over trying to make you partner with anyone else and today you agreed. You haven't wanted to go out or let me come over in days. Baby is there someone else?”

Your eyes widened slightly “What?” He shrugged “I don't know here. I mean we were doing good, I thought. Is it because we had sex? Are you pulling away because of that?” You shook your head, trying not to let your eyes tear up “No Jay, of course not. Sex with you is fucking amazing”

He grinned slightly “Then why have you barely let me kiss you all week?” You shrugged and opened your mouth to say something then clamped it back “I don't want to talk here. Can you grab the takeout?” He nodded “I'll be over in a few ok?” “Ok” he took a step closer and when you didn't pull away he pressed a kiss to your temple.

You sat on your couch, waiting for Jay to knock. When he did you were up and on your feet without thinking. You opened the door to let him in and he walked in carrying the takeout bags “I got Chinese”

He walked into your kitchen as you closed and locked the front door and you heard him putting the take out trays across the counter and throwing the plastic bag into your recycling bin before he walked back into the living room, shedding his jacket and walking over to you.

He stopped just shy of you and raised one eyebrow, silently asking permission. You stepped closer to him, slipping your arms around his waist and he pulled you against his chest “There's my girl. I was wondering where she went”

You cut your eyes up at him “I'm sorry I pushed you away Jay. It's just I think I realized I was falling in love with you and I freaked out because I don't even know why you're with me and…” you were cut off by him kissing you like he was a drowning man and you were the last taste of air.

You moaned lightly against his lips and when he finally pulled away both of you were breathing a little harder “You love me?” He asked and you nodded “I do” he grinned “Good, because I love you but get it straight from here on there will be no pushing me away. You try to push me? I'll grab you and pin you to a wall. We're in this together” you chuckled lightly “You just used you pinning me to a wall as a threat. That is a fantasy Halstead”

He smirked “Oh yeah? Well baby I can make that reality right now. Just tell me you love me one more time” you smiled “I love you Jay” he groaned lightly and leaned down far enough to pick you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist “I've went the last week and a half barely touching you. I'm making up for it tonight”