#and he's so completely unaware of all of it

[bee-whistler]

I understand that he later regretted the film, once the truth about the Holocaust was known. I hope he died understanding that there was nothing to regret.

The humor in the movie was either centered around the barber’s complete unawareness of the atrocities that had been taking place (he’d been hospitalized since WWI head trauma and had finally recovered and been released) or were direct and savage mockeries of the dictators and their lackeys.

The way the Nazis were portrayed (in this case though, the swastika and the name of their party was The Double Cross, lol, as seen on his armband) was very much in line with what would have been seen in the cities at that time. There’s a brief view of a prison camp that was of course far nicer than the reality, but the rest is actually not bad.

Fact is, if you look at this film and think that his interpretation was far less brutal than the truth, it only damns the Nazis more. Even with the humorous aspects, this film portrays a level of cruelty and injustice that is already so starkly and obviously wrong to the eyes of any decent and civilized society that you’d wonder how it isn’t in fact exaggerating the truth.

To then find out that it’s almost the child-friendly version of what really happened should be enough to tell you that Nazis were the darkest and lowest of humanity. Fascism is thuggery, cruelty, hate and cold blooded murder, portraying human beings as disposable and harmful in order to gain power and wealth and control over masses who have been convinced that there is an enemy in every man, woman and little child of another group of living, breathing human beings. Fascism tells you that only it can protect you, that the sacrifice of freedom to their authority is in fact a choice you made to protect the people, land and principles that you love. Fascism is a large and elaborate con game.

The principles I most love include liberty for all, humanity for all. And I love this movie so much, for the humor, the innocence, the sharp wit and unrestrained ridicule of those dictators for what they really were… petty conmen who figured out the right dog whistles to control countries. They weren’t great, weren’t special… just convincing, morally bankrupt liars who happened to be at the right place at the right time.

And that’s something we’re seeing a lot of today. Here’s hoping that the inherent resistance of the American spirit to kings and monarchs will be enough to keep them from taking total control, because clearly more than half the country is slow to learn. After all, half of all people have below average intelligence.

Sorry, I’m passionate about movies and about current events! But yeah… Chaplin created a masterpiece, and I just hope someone told him so while they could.

Because someone is on the ball, Turner Classic is playing (among other WWII films) The Great Dictator today.

If you haven't seen it, please do. It was produced by Charlie Chaplin in the late 1930s, when it became clear that the war was going to happen, and came out in 1940 after it had started. Essentially, Chaplin realized that his famous mustache was about to be usurped forever by a fascist, and that fascist was going to kill a lot more people in the future than he had already.

It's a parody, made before the worst horrors of the Nazi regime were known to the general public, so there is discomfort here (if you've seen Disney's Der Fuhrer's Face, you'll get the idea), but the movie ends with Chaplin essentially saying "fuck it, no one else seems to be speaking out about this and I'm going to use my platform to do that."

For context, this character is a Jew who has been mistaken for the dictator (for obvious mustache-related reasons), and has been sent onstage at a rally to give a speech. Instead of trying to impersonate Hitler, he says what he really thinks. And keep in mind, Chaplin was coming out of semi-retirement for this. It was the first time most people had ever heard him speak, and this is what he said:

[crookedteethed]

ᡣ𐭩 Positive • ° 　 .　 *　: r. cameron

synopsis -- There are three things you know for certain right now:

You're pregnant.

The father currently has his hands all over some blonde at The Wreck.

According to Topper, you're Rafe Cameron's favorite topic during locker room talk.

warnings -- 18+-mdni, unplanned pregnancy, cursing, angst no happy ending, readers a pouge, fuckboy!rafe (?) toppers a dickhead frl, mention of abortions (once)

main masterlist(s) | taglist | wc: 2.2k

"Fuck." You stare at the positive pregnancy test between your trembling fingers.

"Fuck," you curse again, realizing you're alone in your apartment with this life-changing news.

Of course this would happen.

After months of sneaking around, of heated encounters and promises to keep things casual, one reckless night was all it took. One moment where passion overrode common sense, where neither of you cared about consequences.

A hushed "I want to feel you, all of you," slipped from Rafe's lips as he paused, the condom still on, but his desire for you raw, uninhibited, consuming him. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours, silently asking if you trusted him enough to let go..

How naive you'd been, thinking you could trust Rafe Cameron with something so intimate. The golden boy of the OBX, known for his volatile temper and reckless abandon. The type of man who treats both relationships and speed limits as mere suggestions.

And you'd fallen for those dark cerulean eyes and heated whispers like every other girl before you. Only difference was, you were now staring at the consequences of that trust, watching it turn into two pink lines that would complicate everything.

Your secret hookup.

The trust fund bad boy of the OBX. The same Rafe Cameron who's probably at some country club event right now, charming his way through a crowd of socialites, completely unaware that he's about to become a father.

You can already hear the whispers at the yacht club – the Camerons' golden boy and his latest pouge conquest.

As if sleeping with Rafe Cameron wasn't scandalous enough, now you're carrying the next heir to his family's empire.

"Have you seen Rafe?" you shout at Topper over the pulsing bass of The Wreck's speakers. Your hand instinctively rests on your still-flat stomach – a new nervous habit you've developed since seeing those two pink lines.

Topper takes a swig of his whiskey, looking entirely too amused--and drunk, "Lost track of your boyfriend already?"

"He's not my—"

"Yeah, yeah." He smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Just his favorite little Pogue to fuck behind closed doors, right? You know, he tells us everything in the locker room." He leaned closer, whiskey breath hot against your ear. "About how eager you are, how you beg for it. Though I gotta say, for someone from the cut, you've got quite the reputation among the trust fund crowd now."

Your cheeks burned with humiliation and anger. Of course Rafe would brag about all the girls he's had to his Kook friends. Of course you were just another story for their country club gossip.

"Go fuck yourself, Topper. Where's Rafe?"

"Aw, don't be like that, sweetheart. We all know you've got a thing for rich boys. Though usually we don't keep Pogues around this long – Rafe must really like something about you." His eyes raked over you suggestively. "Or some things."

The way he says it makes your skin crawl – it's pure Rafe Cameron coming out of Topper's mouth. That same calculated charm, that practiced way of making someone feel simultaneously special and worthless.

You wonder how many hours he spent watching Rafe work his magic at bars, memorizing the exact tone needed to make "sweetheart" sound like an insult. Rich boys and their fucked-up everything.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, that infuriating smirk still playing on his lips. "Hey, I'm just messing with you. No need to get your discount panties in a twist." He gestures toward the bar with his glass.

"Last I saw him, he was chatting up some blonde by the bar." Topper continued, "Though, something tells me you've got more on your mind than just another quick fuck in the coat closet."

"You're a real piece of shit, you know that?" you snap at him, hands clenching into fists.

Your head whips around, scanning the crowded bar area, but there's no sign of Rafe's familiar frame among the sea of drunk socialites.

"He's not there," you mutter, frustration building in your chest.

"What's wrong? Don't have your Kook King on a leash?" Topper calls after you as you push past him toward the exit. "Better hurry – you know how fast Rafe moves on to the next thing!"

You storm out of The Wreck, the humid night air doing nothing to cool your rising anger.

Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

Here you are, pregnant with his kid, and Rafe Cameron can't even stay in one place long enough to hear the news.

Slumping into your car, you grab your phone, fingers trembling as you pull up his contact. Three rings, voicemail. Again. Four rings, voicemail. Your frustration builds with each failed attempt.

hey, we need to talk

rafe, answer your fucking phone

where are you?

this is important

You watch the messages turn from "delivered" to "read" with no response. Of course he's seeing them. He's probably looking at his phone right now, some blonde draped over his shoulder, both of them laughing at your desperate attempts to reach him.

seriously rafe, this isn't about us. something happened

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. You could just text it. Three simple words: I'm pregnant, asshole. But somehow, dropping that bomb over text feels wrong, even for whatever this is between you.

After the tenth unanswered call, you throw your phone onto the passenger seat, fighting back angry tears.

You should have known better than to expect anything different from Rafe Cameron, who treats Pogues like they're as disposable as his designer clothes.

To him, girls from the Cut are just temporary entertainment – something to play with until a more suitable option from his tax bracket comes along.

Your phone buzzes. For a moment, your heart leaps – but it's just another notification that he's read your messages.

"Fuck you, Rafe," you mutter, starting your car with more force than necessary. The engine roars to life, matching your mood.

You consider driving to his place – you know he'll end up there eventually, probably with tonight's blonde in tow. But the thought of waiting outside his house like some desperate ex makes bile rise in your throat.

Your phone buzzes again. This time it's a text:

busy rn. talk tomorrow?

A laugh escapes you, bitter and hollow. Busy. Of course he's busy. He's always busy when it doesn't involve getting into your pants. Your fingers fly across the keyboard before you can stop yourself:

hope she's worth it. btw, might want to start setting aside some trust fund money for child support

You hit send before you can think better of it, immediately regretting it. Your phone explodes with incoming calls – now he wants to talk. But you're already pulling out of the parking lot, vision blurry with unshed tears.

Let him panic for a while. Let him feel a fraction of the anxiety that's been eating at you since you saw those two pink lines.

Besides, if he can't be bothered to give you five minutes when you need him, he can wait until tomorrow to hear how he managed to knock up his favorite Pogue.

You wake up to the sound of coffee brewing – which is impossible because you live alone and definitely didn't set the timer last night. Stumbling out of your bedroom, you freeze in the doorway.

There's Rafe Cameron, looking unfairly good for someone who should be hungover, sitting on your beaten-up futon. His expensive clothes are a stark contrast to your shabby apartment furniture, but somehow he looks like he belongs there.

Between his fingers, he's holding the pregnancy test you'd forgotten to hide in your emotional spiral last night.

"Breaking and entering now?" Your voice comes out shakier than you'd like. "That's low, even for you."

He doesn't look up from the test, but you catch the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "It's not breaking in when I have a key." He finally meets your eyes, holding up the small silver key you'd given him three months ago after that night he'd brought you soup when you were sick. "You know, the one you said was 'just for emergencies'?"

The unspoken truth hangs heavy between you. This thing between you had stopped being just hookups somewhere between the late-night conversations and the drawer of his clothes in your dresser. Between him knowing how you take your coffee and you knowing which side of the bed he prefers.

"That's not—" you start, but he cuts you off.

"Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you just going to text it and disappear like you did last night?"

"Oh, like how you disappeared with that blonde? Or should we talk about how you disappear every time after you're done with me, just to go brag to Topper about your latest fuck?"

His face darkens. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Rafe. Your locker room talk is apparently quite entertaining. 'Eager.' 'Begging for it.' Ring any bells?" You wrap your arms around yourself, hating how your voice shakes. "Tell me, do all your Kook friends know how I sound in bed, or is that a special story just for Topper?"

"That's not—"

"Not what? Not what you meant? Not what happened? Because Topper seemed pretty clear about exactly what kind of reputation I have among your trust fund crowd now."

"You really think that's what this is?" He gestures between you. "That I could think of you as just another hookup?"

"Isn't it? I mean, god forbid the Kook King actually care about the Pogue he's fucking—"

"Jesus Christ," he runs his hands through his buzzed hair in frustration. "If this was just about sex, would I have a key? Would I know your coffee order or—"

"You can't use that as some kind of proof you care! Having a key doesn't mean shit when you're out there treating me like your dirty little secret!"

The silence that follows is heavy, charged with months of unspoken hurt. When Rafe finally speaks, his voice is low, controlled: "Is it mine?"

The question hits you like a slap. "Are you seriously—"

"Just answer the question." His eyes are intense, searching yours. "Is it mine?"

The unspoken truth hangs heavy between you. He already knows the answer – can read it in the way you can't quite meet his eyes, in how your hand unconsciously drifts to your stomach.

That night without protection wasn't your first together, but it was the first time he'd looked at you like you were something more than just a good time.

Like maybe you could be everything. Now that look is back, mixed with something like fear as the reality of what you're not saying sinks in.

"Those tests—" he starts pacing, running his hands through his hair. "They're not always accurate, you know? Maybe you should take another one. Or three. Fuck, how do you even know for sure?" His voice takes on a desperate edge. "There are… options. I know a clinic in Chapel Hill. Discrete. I could make some calls—"

"You know what?" Your voice comes out quiet, defeated. "Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe this is exactly what I need to finally stop pretending this—" you gesture between you, "—could ever be anything real."

"I'm just saying we need to think about this logically—"

"No," you snap, your voice rising until it bounces off the walls of your tiny apartment. "You're trying to make this disappear, just like everything else that threatens your perfect Figure Eight lifestyle!"

You watch something crack in his expression, that carefully maintained Kook King facade finally showing a glimpse of real emotion. His hand reaches for you, then drops. "Don't—"

"I think you should go." You turn away, unable to look at him anymore. "Use that key one last time to lock up behind you."

You don't need to see his face to know he's struggling with what to say. The perfect Rafe Cameron, for once at a loss for words. It would be funny if it wasn't breaking your heart.

You don't turn around to watch him leave, but you hear the way he hesitates at the door. The silence stretches, filled with all the words neither of you are brave enough to say. Finally, the door clicks shut, and you're alone again.

Your hand drifts to your stomach, and you let out a bitter laugh. You can do this alone.

You'll move out of the OBX, maybe up to Wilmington where no one knows your name or that you're carrying a Cameron heir. You'll work extra shifts at the restaurant, save every penny.

Your kid won't need trust fund money or a father who treats relationships like they're disposable. Your child won't grow up feeling like some dirty secret.

Somewhere across town, Topper's probably already hearing about how the Pogue girl tried to trap Rafe Cameron with a baby. You can almost hear the yacht club whispers starting. But let them talk – you've survived worse than country club gossip.

(What no one would ever know: how your hands shook as you slid his key under his door later that night, or how he sat in his car outside your apartment for hours, staring at a small velvet box he'd been carrying in his pocket since before you ever said the word "pregnant."

Some love stories aren't meant to have happy endings, and some babies are meant to have just one parent who actually wants them.)

a/n -- thanks for reading, as always all likes comments, and reblogs keeps me motivated! 💕🫶🏾

taglist --

@rafestoothbrush @alexxavicry @trapistani @Hejsj @neslayuh @hotvampdragon @alyisdead @jelybely @elmolovesw33d @littlelamy @futuremrscameron @percysley @rrafeswhore @madzig @thatdesigirl17 @drewstarkeysrightarm @seqhyvnz @romantasyreader2024 @luizaelias @rafe-cameronswife @emmavzlsblog @aileenunfiltered @swe3theart-succubus @511rkive @morrrrphin @xcinnamonmalfoyx @obxrafeandjj @rafegf-real @theeternaloptimistt

[gf2bellamy]

enough — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you don't think you're enough for spencer content warnings: mention of working on a case, feelings of insecurity / not feeling good enough, spencer and reader argue , alot of angst ( pretty much all of it) a/n: currently sick in bed :( hope you guys like this <3

You knew Spencer Reid had feelings for you. It wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret. In fact, everyone on the team seemed to know—how could they not?

The way his gaze lingered on you just a fraction longer than anyone else, the way his words stumbled over themselves when you caught him off guard, the subtle softness in his voice when he said your name.

Spencer was careful, meticulous in everything he did, but when it came to you, his emotions were a little too obvious. 

There were the small, thoughtful gestures—the extra cup of coffee waiting on your desk when you’d been up late on a case, or the way he always seemed to know exactly when you needed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Then there were the bigger things, like how he always volunteered to partner with you in the field, or how he fiercely defended your theories in meetings, even when they weren't perfect. 

But maybe the most telling sign of all was the way Spencer looked at you.

Like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.

It was like he was memorizing every detail of your face, committing you to the library of his mind. And every time he looked at you like that, a warmth bloomed in your chest—a warmth you weren’t quite ready to name, but one that you felt more often than you cared to admit. 

Penelope had asked you multiple times about the situation, her curiosity impossible to suppress. “So, when are you and Boy Genius making it official?” she’d tease, wiggling her eyebrows and leaning across your desk.

Each time, you laughed it off or deflected with a joke. “What are you talking about, Pen? Spencer and I are just friends,” you’d insist, even though the words felt more and more like a lie with every passing day. 

Pretending to be oblivious to Spencer’s feelings had once been easy. A flick of the wrist, a casual smile—it had been enough to convince everyone, including yourself, that you were completely unaware. But lately, it was getting harder.

Much harder. 

Because now, every time you caught him staring at you, every time his fingers brushed yours while passing a file, every time he leaned in just a little too close when he explained something in that excited, rambling way of his, you felt it. That same warmth in your chest, that same ache you’d been trying so hard to ignore. 

The truth was, you weren’t just aware of Spencer’s feelings for you.

You also felt the same way. 

Your fingers tapped absently against your desk, a sound that seemed to echo in the quiet bullpen. Your eyes were unfocused, fixed on nothing in particular, as your thoughts wandered far from the case files scattered in front of you. 

Across from your desk, Spencer was watching you. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in concern as he debated whether or not to say something. 

“Are you okay?” His soft voice cut through the quiet, pulling you back to the present. 

“Huh?” You jumped slightly, your hand pausing mid-tap as your head whipped around to face him. Your wide eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you added quickly, your words rushing out. 

Spencer didn’t look convinced. He leaned forward just a little, resting his elbows on the edge of his desk as his gaze searched yours. “You seemed... distracted,” he said carefully. 

You laughed nervously, waving a hand as if to brush off his concern. “Just zoning out. It’s been a long day.” 

Spencer didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at you for a while, his hazel eyes soft but searching, like he could see through the thin veil of your words.

The weight of his gaze made your pulse quicken, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. 

“I’ll be right back,” you blurted suddenly, pushing your chair back. Without waiting for a response, you rushed out of the bullpen, your footsteps echoing down the hallway until you reached the bathroom. 

Inside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and stepped into the nearest stall, closing the door behind you. Sitting down on the closed toilet lid, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d run away like this. You weren’t proud of it, but sometimes it felt easier to escape than to face the thoughts that clawed their way to the surface when Spencer was near. 

People might call you stupid.

Stupid for ignoring the feelings of someone so gentle and sweet.

Stupid for pretending not to notice how much he cared for you, how much he had done for you.

Stupid for not taking the first step when it was obvious to everyone, including you, that Spencer Reid had feelings for you. 

But it wasn’t just Spencer’s feelings, was it? No, the truth was much harder to ignore now: you had feelings for him, too.

And yet, here you were, hiding in a bathroom stall, running away from everything. 

The reason felt silly—childish, even—but it was there, and it was real.

You were scared.

Scared that if you took that step, if you let yourself fall into the warmth of what Spencer was offering, you’d ruin him.

Spencer, who was so sweet and intelligent, so thoughtful and patient. He was everything good in this world, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d taint him with your flaws, your insecurities. 

You didn’t think you were enough for him. 

The thought sat heavy in your chest, and no matter how much you tried to push it down, it always came back.

Spencer deserved someone extraordinary, someone brilliant and perfect—someone who wasn’t you. 

Before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek. 

You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost didn’t hear the bathroom door creak open. 

A familiar, soft voice called out your name.

You quickly straightened up, dabbing at your cheeks with trembling fingers, but it was no use. The tears had already left their mark. 

You opened the stall door cautiously, revealing Penelope standing there in all her vibrant glory. Her floral skirt swirled around her knees, and her cardigan was adorned with her signature pins and patches.

Her warm, concerned eyes locked onto yours the moment the door swung open. 

“There you are,” she said gently, a small smile playing on her lips as she tilted her head. “Spence sent me to check on you. He’s worried.” 

Of course he did. The thought made your chest tighten. 

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the obvious evidence of tears. But Penelope wasn’t one to be fooled, especially not by you. 

She raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Sweetheart, you’re standing in a bathroom stall looking like you just had a tearful heart-to-heart with yourself, so forgive me if I don’t take ‘I’m fine’ at face value.” 

You tried to laugh, but it came out shaky and weak. “It’s just... been a long day.” 

Penelope crossed her arms, giving you that patient, knowing look that only she could manage. “I know there’s more to it than that. Spence wasn’t just worried about you zoning out—he was worried about you. And judging by those red eyes, I’m guessing he’s not wrong for being worried.” 

You sighed, leaning against the stall door for support. “It’s nothing, Pen. Really.” 

Penelope softened, she placed a comforting hand on your arm. “If it’s nothing, why were you crying?” 

For a moment, you considered brushing her off again, but something about her warmth, her openness, made you pause.

Maybe it was because she was Penelope, the team’s heart and soul, or maybe it was because a part of you was tired of holding it all in. 

“It’s... about Spencer,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Penelope’s eyes lit up in understanding, and a soft smile crept across her face. “Oh, honey. Tell me everything.” 

You let out a shaky breath, walking over to the sink and staring at your reflection. The person looking back at you seemed fragile, her emotions etched plainly on her face.

Penelope followed, standing beside you, her vibrant presence grounding you as she waited patiently for you to speak. 

“I have feelings for Spencer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the bathroom’s fluorescent lights. 

Penelope didn’t gasp or exclaim. She simply tilted her head and nodded, her soft smile growing into something more knowing, like she’d been waiting for you to admit it. 

“I figured as much,” she said gently, her tone free of judgment. “But what’s got you hiding out in here instead of doing something about it?” 

You met her eyes in the mirror, hesitating for a moment before answering. “Because I’m scared, Penelope.” Your fingers gripped the edge of the sink tightly. “I mean, he’s Spencer. He’s brilliant and kind. He deserves someone amazing, someone who can keep up with him. I just—I don’t think I’m enough for him.” 

Penelope frowned, her brows knitting together as she turned to face you fully. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. First of all, I am going to stop you right there, missy. You are more than enough for anyone, especially Spencer Reid. Don’t even try to argue with me on that.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but she held up a finger to silence you. 

“Second,” she continued, her voice firm but still warm, “have you met Spencer? That man practically worships the ground you walk on. Do you know how rare that is? To have someone like Spencer look at you the way he does? Trust me, sweetie, he doesn’t see anyone else but you.” 

You blinked, Penelope’s words hitting you harder than you expected. “But what if I mess it up? What if I ruin everything?” 

“Sweetheart,” Penelope said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “life is messy. Love is messy. But if you keep letting that fear hold you back, you’re going to miss out on something incredible. Spencer wants you. Not someone perfect, not someone else. You.” 

Her words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. For a moment, all you could do was stare at her, overwhelmed by her kindness and sincerity. 

“Thank you, Penelope,” you whispered, your voice soft and earnest. 

She gave you a bright, reassuring smile, squeezing your arm gently. “Don’t stay here too long, okay? Boy Genius is worried about you, and you know how he gets when he’s worried.” 

You managed a small smile, nodding as she opened the bathroom door. “I’ll be out soon.” 

“Good,” she said with a wink, stepping out into the hallway. The door swung shut behind her, leaving you alone once again. 

You turned back to the mirror, your reflection staring back at you with the same doubts you’d walked in with. Penelope’s words were honest, comforting, and so full of truth that they made your chest ache. And yet... the doubts didn’t leave. 

They stayed. 

What if Penelope was wrong? What if you tried, and it all came crashing down, leaving your friendship in ruins? 

You pressed your lips together, inhaling a shaky breath. There was a part of you—a small, fragile part—that wanted to believe Penelope.

But the larger, louder part of you couldn’t let go of the fear. 

“Get it together,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the sink tightly. 

You couldn’t stay in this bathroom forever, hiding from the man waiting for you outside.

The man who cared enough to send someone after you when you disappeared.

The man who had always been there, quietly offering you the kind of unconditional support you never thought you deserved. 

And yet, your feet felt like they were cemented to the floor. 

The days that followed felt heavier, even after Penelope’s heartfelt pep talk. Her words lingered in your mind like an echo, but they weren’t enough to silence the whirlwind of emotions.

Everything seemed harder now that you’d acknowledged your feelings—now that you couldn’t hide from the truth. 

Sometimes, it felt like your heart was about to burst with how much love you held for Spencer.

You’d catch yourself staring at him across the bullpen, watching the way his lips moved as he explained something in that fast, excitable way of his, or the way his fingers traced invisible patterns on the edge of a file when he was deep in thought. 

And then there were the moments when you were near him—too near. Your hands would tremble when they brushed his by accident, or your breath would hitch when his cologne lingered in the air between you.

But you didn’t do anything about it. 

You convinced yourself it was for the best, that keeping things the way they were was safer. You couldn’t risk crossing that line and ruining the friendship you’d come to treasure so much. 

Still, there were cracks in your resolve. 

You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up—pretending you didn’t feel what you felt, pretending you didn’t want to close the gap between you and let yourself fall. 

One day, the tension came to a head while you and Spencer were working on the geographic profile to catch an unsub. The bullpen was unusually quiet, the rest of the team out gathering leads.

It was just the two of you, standing side by side in front of the board, the scent of coffee and marker ink filling the air. 

You reached for the same photo pinned to the board—a shot of a potential target area—and your fingers brushed his.

It was barely a touch, but it sent a jolt up your arm, and you immediately pulled back as if burned. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. You avoided his gaze, letting him take the picture as you stepped back. Not just one step—several, putting unnecessary distance between the two of you. 

Spencer hesitated, holding the picture in his hand as his eyes flicked to you. His brows furrowed slightly, concern shadowing his expression as he noticed how much space you’d suddenly created between you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and careful, like he was afraid of startling you. 

Your throat tightened. “I’m fine,” you said, the words automatic and unconvincing. 

Spencer wasn’t buying it. He tilted his head, his gaze searching yours in that way that always made you feel like he could see right through you.

“You’ve been... distant,” he said, his tone gentle. “Not just today, but for a while now.” 

You froze, your heartbeat quickening. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, even though the words felt hollow in your mouth. 

He stepped closer, closing some of the space you’d put between you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty. “If I did, I—I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be around me.” 

Your chest tightened painfully at the vulnerability in his voice. The idea that he thought he had done something wrong, that he might blame himself for the distance you’d created, made your stomach twist with guilt. 

“No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. "It's just work has been getting to me.”

You turned away quickly, pretending to focus on the map pinned to the board. Your heart hammered in your chest as you felt Spencer’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he finally turned back to his own work. 

He let it go—for now. 

Later that evening, you were back in your hotel room, sprawled on the bed with the TV remote in hand. The case was successfully closed, the unsub in custody, but the team had decided to stay one more night before flying home.

You flipped aimlessly through the channels, barely registering the images flashing on the screen. Nothing held your attention for more than a few seconds, and the quiet hum of the TV did little to drown out your thoughts. 

With a loud yawn, you tossed the remote aside, letting it land on the bed. You leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling.  

Then came a knock at your door. 

Slowly, you got up, smoothing down your clothes as you walked to the door. 

When you opened it, your breath caught. 

Spencer stood there, hands in his pockets, his expression a mix of nervousness and determination. He was still in his dress shirt and slacks, his tie loosened just enough to suggest he’d been pacing or thinking too much, as he often did.

His hazel eyes met yours, and you saw a flicker of hesitation before he finally spoke. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice gentle but steady. 

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?” 

“I—I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice laced with hesitation. He shifted his weight nervously, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “Can I come in?” 

You stared at him, your heart racing as you tried to decipher the look in his eyes. Finally, you nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you took a couple of deep breaths, trying to prepare yourself for whatever he wanted to talk about.

Turning back around, you walked a few steps toward him, stopping just a short distance away. You were close enough to notice the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the tension in his posture as he stood there, clearly working through whatever thoughts were racing in his mind. 

You found yourself fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, your fingers twisting and untwisting the fabric as you waited for him to speak.

Finally, Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes meeting yours. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “And I know I’ve been overthinking it, probably more than I should. But I—I couldn’t keep waiting.” 

Your fingers stilled, your breath catching as his words hung in the air. 

“I’ve noticed you pulling away,” he continued, his brows furrowing slightly. “And I’ve been trying to tell myself that maybe I was imagining it, but... I don’t think I am.” He paused, his gaze searching yours. “Are you sure I didn't do something wrong? Because if I did, I’ll fix it—I want to fix it.” 

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, guilt and affection warring within you. “No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He looked relieved for a moment, but the tension didn’t fully leave his face. “Then what is it? Because I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” 

His honesty was disarming, his vulnerability leaving you with nowhere to hide. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, the words caught in your throat. 

“It’s... complicated,” you finally managed, your voice barely audible. 

Silence stretched out between you, thick and heavy. Spencer stood still, watching you intently, as if trying to piece together a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. His gaze flicked to your hands, noticing how they still fidgeted nervously with your clothes. 

And then he spoke. 

“I’m in love with you,” he said, the words falling from his lips so suddenly and so earnestly that they cut through the air like a blade. 

Your hands stilled immediately, your breath hitching as you raised your head to meet his eyes. The room seemed to shrink around you, everything else fading into the background as his words echoed in your ears. 

You hadn’t expected him to say it. Not like that. Not so bluntly, with no preamble or hesitation. And now, faced with the weight of his confession, you found yourself frozen, unsure of what to do or say. 

Spencer’s eyes darted nervously, meeting yours and then flicking away before returning.

He was waiting—for your answer, your reaction, anything. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, your mind racing too fast to form a coherent response. 

The silence stretched on, and you saw something shift in his expression. Disappointment. 

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice tight, the hurt evident as he took a small step back. “I shouldn’t have—” 

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

Spencer froze, his eyes wide and uncertain as he looked at you. 

“Don’t apologize,” you said softly, your voice trembling but resolute. You took a shaky breath.

You weren’t sure what to say to him, honestly. It was like your heart was trying to escape from your chest, but the words just wouldn’t come out. 

You looked at Spencer, his hair falling into his face just the way it always did when he was anxious or lost in thought. You had this overwhelming urge to reach out, to gently push his hair back behind his ear, but you didn’t.

Instead, you just stood there, staring at him, feeling more unsure than ever. 

"Spence, look, I—" you started, your voice faltering as you tried to gather your thoughts. 

His eyes were fixed on yours, waiting. He was so patient, so willing, and it made your chest tighten even more. You tried again, your words tumbling out as you fought to explain. 

“I didn’t want to mess things up with you. I’ve been scared that if I told you how I feel, it would ruin everything. Because... you deserve someone better than me, Spencer. You deserve someone who can give you the world, who can keep up with you... not someone like me.”

You caught yourself, blinking rapidly as the words tumbled out of you, not sure if you were even making sense anymore.

But it was like you couldn’t stop.

“I’ll ruin you, Spencer. I’ll drag you into my mess, and you’ll wake up one day and realize you could’ve had someone better. Someone who doesn’t second-guess every little thing or put up walls because they’re too scared to let anyone in.”

“That’s not how I see you,” Spencer said, his voice soft as he took a step closer to you. “You’re not a mess. You’re not some burden I’d have to carry. You’re—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, shaking your head as tears pricked at your eyes. “You don’t get it. You think I’m this... this version of me that you’ve built up in your head, but I’m not that person. I’m not perfect. I’m not enough.”

“Stop saying that!” His voice rose slightly, the frustration finally breaking through. You looked at him, startled, as he ran a hand through his hair. “You keep telling me what I should feel, what I deserve, like you get to decide that for me. But you don’t. I know what I want, and it’s you.”

“Spencer—”

“No, let me finish,” he said, stepping closer. “I don’t care about perfect, okay? I don’t care about whatever doubts you have about yourself, because none of that changes the fact that I love you. I love you for you, not some idealized version. And if you think for one second that I’m going to stand here and let you push me away because of some fear that you’re not ‘enough,’ then you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

His words hit you like a wave, but instead of feeling comforted, you felt overwhelmed. The emotions swirling between you both—the love, the fear, the frustration—felt like too much all at once.

“You’re not listening to me,” you said, your voice rising. “You think this is just me being insecure, but it’s not. This is me being realistic. You deserve someone who doesn’t bring you down, someone who doesn’t doubt themselves every time they look in the mirror.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You’re the one bringing yourself down, not me. You’re the one who thinks you’re not good enough, but that’s not the truth. It’s your fear talking, not reality.”

“And maybe my fear is right,” you shot back, your voice cracking. “Maybe it’s telling me what I already know—that you’re too good for me, and I can’t be what you need.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath. “You think you’re protecting me by pushing me away, but you’re not. You’re just hurting both of us,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this—like I’m not alone. Like I’m more than just... me. And I’m not going to let you stand there and tell me you’re not enough.”

The room felt suffocating, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

But still, the doubt clung to you, thick and unrelenting. “Spencer, I just... I can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His shoulders slumped slightly, the frustration in his eyes giving way to something softer—something sad. “I don’t know how to convince you,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with defeat. “But I can’t force you to believe me.”

For a moment, he just stood there, silent and still, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“I don’t know what else to say,” he finally murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet hurt that made your chest ache.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. You felt paralyzed, the fear and doubt swirling inside you.

Spencer looked back up at you, his hazel eyes searching yours one last time, as if hoping to find something—anything—that might give him a reason to stay.

When he didn’t, a faint, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

And then he turned, walking toward the door with a heaviness in his steps that you’d never seen before.

Your heart twisted as you watched him reach for the handle, every fiber of your being screaming at you to stop him, to say something, to fix this.

But the words refused to come.

Spencer paused for a fraction of a second as he opened the door, his back to you. It felt like time stood still. Then he stepped out, quietly closing the door behind him.

The sound of the latch clicking into place was deafening.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the closed door, your chest tight and your head spinning. The room felt unbearably empty without him.

And yet, you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Instead, you sank onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears you’d been holding back finally broke free.

You didn’t know what hurt more—the fear that you’d pushed him away for good or the possibility that you’d been wrong about everything.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

dark!barty has been on my mind so much lately!! need jealous, possessive, obsessive, barty!

AN: HECK YEAH THIRD POST OF THE NIGHT BABIEEE- Almost all my drafts are done

Trust and Obedience

Dark!Obsessive!Barty Crouch Jr. x Reader

Summary: Small snippets of moments between you and Barty, where you really should have picked up on his spiral.

WC: 11.2k... someone teach me how to write normally-

CW: Chocking, reader is referred to as 'belonging' to Barty, Barty is controlling and (at times) read as condescending, sniffing, reader trusts him way too much, slightly oblivious and innocent reader, the ends gets very ~spicy~ but cuts before anything actually happens- skip the last scene if you aren't interested in that.

It was late- far later than any of self respecting 5th year should have been awake- but no one seemed eager to call it a night. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls of the dormitory. The room was cozy, its deep green and silver tones softened by the golden glow of the flames.

Pandora was sprawled on Regulus’s bed, flipping idly through a magazine, her long hair hanging over the edge as she hummed softly to herself. Regulus sat by the window, seemingly uninterested in the conversation, gazing out into the dark grounds below. Meanwhile, Evan sat cross-legged on the floor, his wand in hand as he absentmindedly practiced non-verbal spells on the edge of a quill, making it levitate an inch off the ground before it wobbled and fell.

And you- you were seated on the floor, leaning back against Evan’s bed where Barty lounged behind you, your knees drawn up as you flipped through a book. You were engrossed in whatever you were reading, your brow furrowed slightly in concentration. Every now and then, you’d let out a soft sigh of frustration, your lips pursing as you tried to make sense of the passage in front of you.

Barty wasn’t paying attention to his own book. He hadn’t been for a while. Instead, his eyes lingered on you, taking in the way the firelight danced across your features, the way you absentmindedly chewed on your lower lip when you were deep in thought. He liked watching you like this, when you were unaware of the intensity of his gaze.

Evan, clearly annoyed by the quiet tension in the room, flicked his wand and muttered something under his breath. Your book snapped shut on its own, making you jump slightly.

“Evan!” You gasped, glaring at him.

“What?” Evan drawled, smirking. “You’ve been staring at that thing for ages. Thought I’d do you a favor.”

“You’re such a git,” You muttered, reopening the book.

Pandora giggled from her spot on the bed. “Oh, leave her alone, Evan. You’re just grumpy because you lost to Regulus in Gobstones earlier.”

Regulus didn’t react, still gazing out the window as though he hadn’t heard a word.

Barty leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees as he watched you with quiet amusement. You sighed again, leaning your head back against his legs, frustrated with how the numbers and letters on the page kept dancing between each other. Without thinking, his hand moved on its own, brushing through your hair in a slow, deliberate motion.

You didn’t pull away. You never did.

His fingers trailed down, grazing the nape of your neck, where they lingered just a second too long. He felt you shiver slightly under his touch, a small reaction you probably didn’t even notice yourself, but it made something twist deep in his chest.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low, almost soothing. “You’re too tense.”

You smiled, tilting your head slightly to look up at him, completely oblivious to the way his eyes darkened, to the way his fingers curled slightly as if resisting the urge to hold you there, to press against the pulse point beneath his touch. He imagined wrapping his hand around your throat- not to hurt you, never that- but to feel the proof of your life beneath his fingers. To remind you that you were his, even if you didn’t realize it yet.

“You’re always like this,” Evan muttered, clearly irritated. “Touching each other.”

Pandora propped herself up on her elbows, grinning. “I think it’s sweet,” she said, her tone dreamy. “They’re comfortable with each other. You wouldn’t understand, Evan.”

Barty didn’t respond, his hand still resting lightly on your neck. He liked the way it felt, the way you trusted him so blindly. It unraveled something in him, made the ever-present hunger beneath his skin burn hotter.

You laughed softly, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. “We are just friends,” you said lightly, not noticing the way Barty’s fingers twitched slightly at your words. “Right, Barty?”

His grip tightened ever so slightly- just for a moment, just enough for him to feel your pulse quicken beneath his touch- before he forced himself to relax. He didn’t like hearing you say it, didn’t like the way it sounded coming from your lips. Just friends. But it was enough for him, for now.

He played along, as he always did.

“Sure,” He chuckled, his voice steady, though there was a hint of something darker beneath it. “Just friends.”

Evan scoffed, clearly unimpressed, while Pandora gave a soft, knowing hum, her gaze flicking between the two of you with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Friends don’t touch each other like that,” Evan muttered under his breath, flicking his wand again to make the quill hover once more.

Pandora ignored him, turning her attention back to her magazine, and Regulus remained silent, as always, seemingly uninterested in the whole exchange.

“We do.” Barty challenged listlessly- only for a small smirk to over take Evans face.

Evan’s smirk widened, the mischievous glint in his eyes sharpening as he caught sight of Barty’s fingers resting lightly on your neck. The tension radiating from Barty was palpable, his normally chaotic demeanor stretched thin, but Evan didn’t seem to care.

“Well, if you’re just friends,” Evan said, dragging out the words in a tone that bordered on taunting, “then she won’t mind if I-”

He took a step forward, reaching toward your shoulder, but he didn’t get far.

Barty’s hand moved faster than anyone expected, tightening on your neck- not enough to hurt, but enough for you to notice. His other hand shot out, palm flat against Evan’s chest, stopping him mid-step with a force that was anything but playful. His eyes locked on Evan’s, cold and unyielding.

“Don’t. Touch.” Barty practically growled, his voice dangerously low. There was no trace of humor left, only a thinly veiled threat simmering beneath the surface. His entire posture was tense, like a guard dog poised to attack at the first sign of danger.

Pandora sat up fully, wide-eyed but clearly entertained than alarmed. “Oh dear,” She mused softly, a smile playing on her lips. “You’ve done it now, Evan.”

You, oblivious to the darker undercurrents in Barty’s reaction, reached up to touch his wrist lightly, as if to reassure him. “It’s fine, Barty. He’s just being annoying.”

But Barty didn’t relax. His gaze didn’t waver from Evan, who raised his hands in mock surrender, though the smirk never left his face.

“Merlin, calm down,” Evan muttered, backing up a step. “It was just a joke.”

Barty didn’t move, didn’t speak. He watched Evan retreat like a hawk, as though daring him to try again. Only when Evan dropped back onto the floor, still smirking but clearly deciding not to push further, did Barty loosen his grip on your neck. His fingers lingered for a moment longer before falling away entirely, though the tension in his shoulders remained.

Pandora giggled softly. “You’re so protective, Barty. It’s sweet, really.”

You gave Barty a puzzled look, still unaware of the possessive storm swirling behind his eyes. “You didn’t have to react like that,” you said lightly. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Barty didn’t answer immediately, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to remain calm. It was a big deal- to him. The idea of anyone else laying a hand on you, even in jest, made something dark and primal rise to the surface. But he couldn’t say that to you- you'd think he'd gone mad. Or worse- you'd worry about him.

“He shouldn’t touch you,” he muttered instead, his voice quiet but firm, as though that explained everything. “You don't know where he's hands have been.”

Evan scoffed from his spot on the floor, leaning back on his elbows. “You’re ridiculous,” He bemoaned, clearly amused by Barty’s reaction. “It’s not like she’s-”

“Careful, Rosier.” Regulus said suddenly, his voice calm and detached as he continued to gaze out the window. He slowly turned to look ag you guys, smirking as his eyes locked with Barty’s. “That's Barty’s girl. Everyone knows that.”

Evan fell silent, his smirk fading slightly as he glancegavs a dramatic groan and leaned back against the couch, smirking at you as Barty chuckled.

“Exactly right, Reg.” Barty smirked and flattened his palm against your neck, but again, you gave no reaction. 

Evan gave another dramatic groan, leaning back further against the couch. He shot you a playful glare, though his smirk betrayed any real annoyance. “Unbelievable. You just let him do that?” He gestured toward Barty’s hand, still resting possessively on your neck. “Merlin, you’re both hopeless.”

Pandora grinned from her spot on the bed, clearly enjoying the scene. “Hopelessly sweet,” she teased, propping herself up on her elbows. “Honestly, it’s like watching a couple who refuse to admit they’re together.”

You let out a soft laugh, rolling your eyes as you stretched your legs out, nudging Evan’s ankle with your foot. “Oh, stop it. You’re all making it a bigger deal than it is.”

Barty didn’t say anything, but his smirk grew, fingers flexing ever so slightly against the curve of your neck. You didn’t even notice, too busy teasing Evan by nudging his foot again in a childish game of footsie.

“You’re asking for it now,” Evan warned, leaning forward slightly, clearly ready to retaliate. He grinned wickedly, flicking his wand toward your leg to tickle your ankle with a harmless jinx.

You squealed, jerking your leg away as you laughed. “Evan, you prat!”

The sound of your laughter filled the room, light and carefree, and Barty’s gaze softened, though the possessiveness never fully left his expression. He liked seeing you like this- happy, playful, surrounded by people you trusted.

But still… his hand remained on your neck, a silent claim no one else seemed to question anymore.

Regulus returned his attention to the window, his smirk fading into the same detached calm he always carried. Pandora giggled quietly to herself, watching Evan and you bicker as if it were her favorite form of entertainment.

Meanwhile, Barty leaned back against the bed once more, his fingers trailing down your neck in a slow, deliberate motion before falling away entirely. He didn’t need to say anything. He didn’t need to react further.

Everyone here knew it. You were his. Even if you didn’t realize it yet. 

He could wait. He always had.

~~~

It’s a lazy Saturday afternoon, and most of the house is either outside enjoying the crisp autumn air or scattered around the common room. You’ve just come back from Hogsmeade, a small bag in hand filled with little trinkets and things you’d picked up during your trip. Among them is a new perfume you’d been curious about, a light floral scent with hints of vanilla and something warmer, richer.  

You dab a little on your wrists and neck, the scent quickly enveloping you in its delicate sweetness. You smile, pleased with your purchase, and- after thanking a fellow sixth year who held the door for you- stand behind the couch, tossing Evan a sweet he had begged you to grab for him.

Barty, seated across the room with Pandora and Regulus, had barely been paying attention to the conversation- until now. The moment the scent reaches him, something shifts. His gaze sharpens, zeroing in on you as if drawn by an invisible thread. He gets up, crossing the room with a casualness that doesn’t quite hide the intent behind his movements.

“You smell different,” He murmurs as he comes to stand behind you, his voice low, almost reverent. Before you can respond, he leans down slightly, his hands settling lightly on your shoulders as he inhales the scent lingering around your neck. “What is that?”

You laugh softly, turning your head slightly to glance at him over your shoulder. “It’s just a new perfume I bought today. Do you like it?”

“Like it?” He repeats, his hands sliding down your arms, his grip warm and grounding. “It’s you.” His voice is softer now, almost dazed, as if the scent alone has enchanted him. He leans closer again, this time pressing his face against your hair, taking in more of the scent. “You smell… amazing.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but the blush rising to your cheeks betrays your flustered reaction. “Alright, alright, you’re acting like I invented the stuff.”

Barty chuckles, wrapping his arms loosely around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Can’t help it,” he says, his voice lower, more intimate. “You smell too good.” His hands tighten slightly, his fingers brushing lightly against yours as he murmurs, “You should wear this more often.”

The whole scene feels strangely domestic- like something a lovesick boyfriend would do. But to you, it’s just Barty being overly affectionate, as always.

But Evan? Evan isn’t having it.

He throws up his hands dramatically, gesturing wildly at the two of you. “Oh, come on! You two have to be taking the piss at this point!” He points an accusatory finger between you and Barty. “You two must to be shagging!”

Pandora giggles from her spot by the fire, clearly delighted by the chaos. Regulus, as always, remains stoic, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“We’re not,” You say quickly, laughing as you try to wriggle out of Barty’s grip. But he doesn’t let go, holding you firmly in place, his smirk growing as he glances at Evan.

“Jealous, Rosier?” Barty drawls, his tone lazy but his eyes gleaming with amusement. “I can’t help it if I appreciate good company.”

“Good company?” Evan repeats incredulously. “You’re practically glued to her! Friends don’t do that! Friends don’t-” He gestures wildly again, flustered. “-sniff each other!”

Pandora bursts out laughing, nearly doubling over as she watches Evan struggle to find the right words. “Oh, Evan, leave them alone..”

Barty doesn’t move, still holding you loosely in his arms, his fingers idly tracing patterns against your wrist. You’re flustered but laughing, brushing it off as nothing more than playful teasing.

But to Barty, this is something else entirely. The scent, your warmth, the way you relax so easily in his hold- it’s driving him mad in the best way possible. He knows Evan’s teasing is harmless, but part of him bristles at the idea of anyone thinking they could have what he already considers his.

“We’re just friends,” You say again, more for Evan’s benefit than anything else. “Barty’s always like this.”

Evan stares at you, utterly exasperated. “Always like this? You’re telling me he always holds you like you’re the love of his life and sniffs you like you’re bloody Amortentia?”

Your cheeks flushed a passionate rosey shade. “I- well- the sniffing is new!”

Pandora chokes on another laugh, clutching her stomach as Regulus finally speaks, his voice calm but dry. “You might as well give up, Evan. They’ve been saying the same thing for years.”

Barty doesn’t respond to any of them. He doesn’t care what Evan thinks, or even what Pandora finds amusing. All that matters is you- your scent, your warmth, the way you let him hold you without question.

He presses his lips briefly to your hair, a gesture so soft and quick that it goes unnoticed by everyone but you. “You smell perfect,” he murmurs again, just for you.

And though you laugh it off, brushing away the warmth spreading across your cheeks, something about the way he holds you lingers in your mind far longer than it should. 

To you, it’s just Barty being affectionate.

To Barty? It’s you unknowingly giving him another reason to be completely, utterly obsessed.

~~~

Your head girl dorm was warm and inviting, filled with the blue haze from the lake just a few yards below. Pandora, Evan, and Regulus were already there, lounging comfortably- Pandora on your bed, Regulus perched in one of the armchairs, and Evan sprawled on the floor, fiddling with his wand as he always did.  

Their conversation had been light and easy until the door swung open, revealing you storming in, frustration written all over your face. Barty followed closely behind, his expression unreadable, calm in a way that only made your irritation grow.

Pandora’s brows raised as she exchanged a glance with Evan, who straightened slightly, clearly intrigued by the tension crackling between you and Barty. Regulus didn’t react outwardly, but his gaze flicked toward the two of you, quietly observing.

“I can’t believe you did that!” you snapped, spinning on your heel to face Barty as you threw your bag onto the bed. In all the years they’d known you, none of them- not Pandora, Evan, or even Regulus- had ever heard you truly raise your voice at him. Sure, you’d been upset with Barty before; you’d sighed, pouted, and even shot him the occasional glare. But shouting? Walking away from him? That was unheard of.  

“You had no right,” you continued, your voice sharp, crackling with a frustration that felt foreign even to you.

The door clicked softly shut behind him as Barty stepped inside. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, his posture maddeningly relaxed, yet there was a tension about him, an unspoken electricity in the way his eyes locked onto yours. His calm wasn’t comforting- it was unnerving, especially when paired with the fiery crackle of your anger. 

It was impossible to tell what unsettled the others more: the rare sight of your hostility or the uncharacteristic stillness in Barty’s demeanor. For once, the boy who thrived on chaos and disruption seemed like the eye of the storm- calm, deliberate, and entirely unbothered. 

Pandora exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Evan, who raised his brows in silent surprise. Even Regulus, who rarely looked interested in anything, shifted slightly in his chair, his gaze sharpening as he observed the brewing tension between you and Barty.

Barty didn’t respond immediately. He stood there, leaning casually against the closed door, as if he were giving you a moment to let your words hang in the air. His eyes, however, remained fixed on you, dark and unwavering, his calm exterior betraying the intensity simmering just beneath the surface.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Barty muttered evenly, his voice low and composed. “I told him what he needed to hear.”

“What he needed to hear?” You repeated incredulously, your voice rising, practically echoing off the stone walls of your dorm. “He asked me on a date, Barty. Me. Not you.” 

Pandora leaned forward slightly, clearly invested in the unfolding argument, while Evan smirked, obviously enjoying the drama. Regulus remained quiet, his gaze steady, but his lips twitched ever so slightly in amusement.

The tension crackled in the room like a live wire, yet Barty remained infuriatingly calm, his hands still tucked into his pockets, his head tilted ever so slightly as he watched you pace back and forth. Your frustration was evident, radiating from you in waves, and yet he didn’t seem the least bit concerned. If anything, he looked amused.

“You didn’t have to do that, Barty,” you huffed, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You always do this- stepping in, making decisions like I can’t handle myself.”

Barty leaned back against the closed door, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he spoke, his voice low and even. “You say that like I did something wrong.”

“Because you did!” You spun on your heel to glare at him, your cheeks flushed from a mix of anger and embarrassment. “He was just asking me on a date. That’s all. I could’ve handled it.”

“He didn’t deserve to ask you anything,” Barty replied smoothly, his tone infuriatingly casual as his dark eyes stayed locked on yours. “I did him a favor, really. Saved him from wasting both our time.”

You groaned, your fists clenching at your sides as you stopped in front of him, your head tilted back to meet his gaze. “It’s not your job to decide that.”

Barty finally moved, leaning forward slightly, the space between you shrinking as his smirk softened into something more dangerous. “It is when it involves you,” he said simply, his voice softer now, almost tender. “You’re my best friend.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, your resolve wavered. You hated how easily he could disarm you, how the sharp edge of your anger dulled the moment his tone softened, the way he tilted his head like he was waiting for you to see things his way.

Pandora, perched on your bed with her legs crossed, was watching the scene unfold with wide, curious eyes. Evan, sprawled on the floor, had long since given up pretending to be interested in his wandwork, his smirk growing wider with every passing second. Even Regulus, who rarely seemed to care about anything, was watching now, his sharp gaze flicking between you and Barty with quiet interest.

You took a step back, shaking your head as if to clear it. “I’m not a child, Barty. I can make my own decisions.”

His expression didn’t change, but his hand moved, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture so soft, so intimate, that it made your breath hitch. “I know,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t look out for you.”

You hated how easily he got under your skin, how his touch unraveled you no matter how much you tried to hold yourself together. “You don’t always have to protect me, Barty,” you muttered, though your voice lacked the bite it had earlier. “I can handle myself.”

“I know you can,” he said again, his hand lingering at the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone. “But I’m still going to.”

You huffed, crossing your arms as you tried to look anywhere but at him, though his gaze was like a tether pulling you back. His hand didn’t move from where it lingered near your face, warm and steady, and you hated how your resolve was crumbling under the weight of it.

“You’re pouting,” Barty said, his tone calm but laced with amusement, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“I am not,” you shot back quickly, though the heat rushing to your cheeks betrayed you.

“You are,” he said simply, leaning in just a fraction closer. His smirk softened into something almost affectionate as he added, “It’s cute, though. You can keep doing it.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you stumbled over your words, caught completely off guard by the casual compliment. “I- I’m not pouting,” You insisted, though your voice wavered, and the corners of your lips twitched as if you were fighting the urge to smile.

Barty chuckled, his thumb brushing ever so lightly against your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. “Sure, you’re not,” he teased, his voice dropping lower, softer. “But I don’t mind if you do.”

Pandora let out a small squeal of delight from her perch on your bed, clearly enjoying the interaction far too much. “Oh, this is precious,” she giggled, kicking her legs in the air. “You’re so hopelessly sweet, the both of you.”

Evan groaned dramatically from his spot on the floor, throwing his head back against the carpet. “Merlin, you’re both insufferable. Just snog and put us all out of our misery.”

Your eyes widened, and you whipped around to glare at him. “We are not-” but your voice trailed off when Barty’s hand slid to your shoulder, grounding you.

“Calm down, Evan,” Barty drawled, his smirk growing wider as he glanced over at the other boy. “You’re just jealous she likes me better.”

Evan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “As if. I just want to live in peace without the two of you staring at each other like a pair of lovesick Puffskeins.”

You felt your cheeks flush even hotter, but before you could protest again, Barty gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, drawing your attention back to him. His expression had softened now, his eyes searching yours.

“You can keep pretending to be mad at me if you want,” he murmured, his voice quiet enough that only you could hear. “But I know you’re not.”

You let out a loud, dramatic huff, throwing your hands in the air as you turned away from him. Without another word, you stomped over to your bed and flopped onto it with a groan of pure frustration, your legs dangling over the edge. The sound was almost comically displeased, and you kicked your feet against the mattress in a childish show of annoyance.

Behind you, Pandora stifled a giggle, and even Regulus quirked an amused brow, though he said nothing. Evan, on the other hand, looked entirely too pleased with the chaos unfolding before him.

Barty, unbothered by your theatrics, followed you over with that maddeningly calm expression still plastered on his face. He knelt at the foot of the bed without a word, slipping your shoes off one by one with deliberate care. You made a point to keep your arms crossed and your lips pressed into a pout, but the edges of your resolve wavered ever so slightly as his fingers brushed your ankles.

When he was done, he rested one elbow on the bedframe and leaned in close, his other hand resting against the mattress near your hip. His gaze was heavy, and it pinned you in place despite your best efforts to avoid looking at him.

Finally, you peeked up at him through your lashes, still pouting as you muttered, “You’re terrible at this friend thing, Barty.”

He let out a low sound- half groan, half sigh- as his head tilted slightly, his dark eyes meeting yours with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “I know,” he said softly, his voice carrying that same infuriating calm that made your chest tighten. “I’m bloody awful at it.”

You huffed again, though it came out weaker this time, and you buried your face in your hands for a moment before peeking out at him once more. “You’re not even trying to be better.”

“I’m not,” he agreed shamelessly, leaning in closer, his face only inches from yours now. His smirk softened, and for a moment, his expression bordered on something more vulnerable. “But I’m not sure I want to be better.”

That caught you off guard, and for a second, you forgot to be annoyed as you stared at him, your heart skipping a beat. You weren’t sure what he meant, not entirely, but the way his gaze lingered on yours made your chest feel uncomfortably warm.

“Hopeless,” Evan muttered from across the room, breaking the moment as he rolled onto his side with a dramatic groan. “The both of you.”

Pandora just grinned, resting her chin in her hands as she watched the scene unfold with unabashed delight. “Don’t mind him,” she said, her voice sing-song. “I think it’s sweet.”

You let out another huff, though this time it was more embarrassed than angry, and you shoved at Barty’s chest lightly. “I can't stand you,” you muttered, your cheeks flushing as you turned your face away.

Barty chuckled softly at your reaction, his smirk growing as he caught your chin with his fingers, gently tilting your face back toward him. “You say that,” he murmured, his voice low and laced with something that made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t want to admit, “but you don’t really mean it.”

You swatted at his hand half-heartedly, but he didn’t let go, his thumb brushing along your jaw in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “I do mean it,” you insisted, though your voice wavered, and you hated how easily he could unravel you.

Pandora giggled from her spot on the bed, clearly delighted by the dynamic. “Oh, come on,” she teased, propping herself up on her elbows. “Just admit he’s your favorite, and we can all move on.”

Evan groaned dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “If she says it, I’m leaving. I can’t bear to hear her feed his ego.”

Barty’s smirk turned almost predatory, and he leaned in just a fraction closer, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Go on,” he urged, his voice soft and teasing. “Tell them I’m your favorite.”

You glared at him, though it was half-hearted at best. “You’re impossible,” you muttered again, but there was no real heat behind your words.

Barty’s grin widened, and he finally let go of your chin, leaning back slightly as he rested his forearms on the edge of the bed. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said smugly, clearly pleased with himself.

Pandora clapped her hands together, her grin as wide as his. “I knew it!” she exclaimed. “You’re both hopelessly sweet. It’s adorable, really.”

Regulus, who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke, his voice calm and dry. “Can we move on now? Or are we just going to sit here while they flirt all night?”

Your face flushed even hotter, and you buried it in your hands, groaning. “We’re not flirting!” You insisted, though even you didn’t believe it.

Barty laughed, the sound warm and rich as he reached out to ruffle your hair. “Sure we’re not,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Whatever you say.”

You swatted at his hand again, but this time, you couldn’t help the small, reluctant smile that tugged at your lips. No matter how frustrating he could be, he always had a way of making you forget why you were mad in the first place.

~~~

The common room was alive with celebration, the emerald and silver banners draped across the walls shimmering in the floating candlelight. Music pulsed softly in the background, mingling with the chatter and laughter of students sprawled across couches and cushions. The Ravenclaw-Slytherin match had been brutal, but the RavenClaw team had emerged victorious, and Barty- of course- had made himself the star of the night.

You were perched on the arm of a chair across the room, a cup of butterbeer in your hand, but your attention was focused on Barty, who was lounging on one of the larger couches near the hearth. A girl- a sixth-year Ravenclaw whose name you didn’t remember- was leaning far too close to him, her laugh too loud, her hand brushing his arm as she spoke.

Your stomach twisted, and you took a sip of your drink, trying to ignore the uncomfortable knot of jealousy that had taken root. But the sight of her leaning closer, her hand lingering on Barty’s shoulder, made your blood simmer.

Pandora was the first to notice your pout. She had been sitting cross-legged on the floor near the couch, her chin resting on her hand as she observed the lively room. Her sharp eyes caught the way your gaze kept darting toward Barty and the Ravenclaw girl, and the faint downturn of your lips sent her curiosity spiraling.

“Did you just… pout?” Pandora asked, her tone laced with amusement. She sat up straighter, nudging Regulus with her elbow to get his attention. “Reg, are you seeing this?”

Regulus, ever the picture of detached elegance, arched a brow and looked up from the book he was pretending to read. He followed Pandora’s gaze, his eyes landing on your furrowed brows and the way your fingers gripped your cup a bit too tightly. A smirk slowly curled at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, this is new,” he drawled, closing his book with deliberate care. “She looks… upset. Over a person, no less. That can’t be right.”

Pandora giggled, shifting closer to you with an eager grin. “What’s the matter, love?” she teased, her voice sing-song. “You’ve got that look like someone just stole your favorite quill. What did she do?”

Your head whipped toward them, cheeks flushing under their amused scrutiny. “I don’t like her,” you blurted out, the words leaving your lips before you could stop them.

Pandora’s jaw dropped, and she gasped dramatically, clutching at her chest like you’d just delivered the most scandalous confession of the century. “You don’t like her?” she repeated, her grin widening. “You? The girl who likes everyone?”

Regulus leaned back in his chair, resting his chin in his hand as he observed you with quiet amusement. “I didn’t think it was possible,” he said lightly, his smirk deepening. “The golden girl of our odd bunch doesn’t like someone. Are you feeling alright?”

You groaned, turning away from them in a futile attempt to hide the heat spreading across your cheeks. “It’s not a big deal,” You muttered, your fingers tightening around your cup. “She’s just… annoying.”

Pandora’s laughter bubbled out again, and she leaned forward, practically vibrating with excitement. “Annoying? How so? You’ve never called anyone annoying before.”

You bit your lip, casting a quick glance at Barty and the Ravenclaw girl. She was still leaning far too close, her laugh grating in your ears as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “She’s loud,” you mumbled, your voice tinged with irritation. “And she keeps laughing at everything he says like he’s Merlin reincarnated.”

“Oh, she’s loud, at a party” Pandora turned to look at Regulus in exaggerated aspiration, her tone dripping with mock seriousness. “How dare she.”

“And laughing?” Regulus added with a feigned gasp. “What an outrage.”

“She’s touching him.” You snapped, your voice a little louder than you intended. Both Pandora and Regulus froze for a moment, staring at you in stunned silence before breaking into twin peals of laughter.

“Touching him?” Pandora echoed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Oh, darling, Barty would be thrilled to hear you now.”

“Tragic,” Regulus murmured, shaking his head with mock pity. “Jealousy really doesn’t suit you.”

“I am not jealous,” you said sharply, your voice a touch too defensive. The way they both exchanged knowing looks made your stomach twist even more.

“Oh, sure,” Pandora said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “You’re not jealous. You just don’t like the girl because she’s breathing the same air as Barty.”

Regulus leaned forward, propping his elbow on his knee as he smirked knowingly. “Breathe a little louder, and she might vanish,” he teased, his tone smooth and laced with amusement. “You’re practically glaring a hole into the back of her head.”

You whipped your head toward him, cheeks burning hotter than the fireplace behind you. “I’m not glaring,” you snapped, though the defensive edge in your tone betrayed you.

Pandora was practically bouncing now, her grin threatening to split her face in two. “Oh, this is delicious,” she cooed. “You’re jealous. Admit it. Come on, it’s alright to say it.”

“I’m not jealous,” you insisted, though your voice cracked slightly on the last word. You took another sip of your butterbeer in a vain attempt to calm yourself, but the sight of the Ravenclaw girl leaning closer to Barty made your grip tighten on the glass.

Pandora leaned toward Regulus, cupping her hand around her mouth as if whispering a grand secret. “Do you think she realizes she’s been holding that butterbeer like she wants to hex it?”

Regulus tilted his head thoughtfully, his lips twitching. “I doubt it,” he murmured back, loud enough for you to hear. “She’s too busy deciding whether to hex the butterbeer or the girl.”

You let out a frustrated groan, setting your cup down with a louder-than-intended thud. “You’re both impossible.”

“And you’re completely transparent,” Regulus shot back smoothly. His silver eyes gleamed as he leaned closer, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt. “If you’re so bothered, go do something about it. Merlin knows Barty would fall over himself if you so much as batted your eyelashes.”

Pandora nodded fervently, her curls bouncing as she clapped her hands together. “Oh, yes! Just go over there and ruin her night. It’s what she deserves, really.”

You shook your head, determined to ignore them, but the Ravenclaw girl’s hand brushing Barty’s arm again made something snap inside you. Before you could stop yourself, you stood abruptly, drawing the attention of Pandora and Regulus.

“Finally,” Regulus muttered under his breath, a smug grin curling his lips.

“Go get him, love!” Pandora called after you, her voice sing-song and filled with glee.

Your stride across the common room was purposeful, your heart pounding as you ignored the heat of Regulus and Pandora's amused stares boring into your back. You weren’t even thinking; your legs seemed to be moving on their own, fueled by a mix of irritation and something deeper, something you weren’t ready to name.

Barty noticed you before you even reached him. His sharp eyes flicked up, his smirk softening into something unreadable as he leaned back against the couch, one arm slung lazily over the backrest. The Ravenclaw girl, oblivious to the shift in his expression, was still chattering on about something inconsequential, her fingers grazing his arm again.

You didn’t stop to acknowledge her. Without so much as a glance in her direction, you stepped into Barty’s space and, in one fluid motion, sat yourself down on his lap. 

The Ravenclaw girl froze mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open as her wide eyes darted between you and Barty. Pandora let out a loud, delighted gasp from across the room, and Regulus snorted, barely able to hide his amusement. Even Evan, who had been engrossed in a conversation with another group, glanced over with raised brows.

Barty, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit fazed. If anything, his smirk widened, and his hands came up instinctively, one settling on your waist while the other rested casually on your thigh, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

You didn’t say a word as you settled into Barty’s lap, your arms crossing loosely over your chest as you stared up at him. Your expression wasn’t sassy or confrontational- it was soft, expectant, and patient, the kind of look only you could manage, one that could coax a response out of anyone without so much as a word. 

Barty’s smirk twitched, his sharp eyes softening as they met yours. The quiet patience in your gaze was like a silent challenge, and it drew him in immediately. The Ravenclaw girl’s voice faltered into awkward silence as his attention shifted entirely to you. 

“Something I can help you with, love?” he asked lightly, his tone teasing but his hands steady as they rested on your waist. His fingers flexed slightly, grounding you both in the moment.

Still, you didn’t speak. You only tilted your head a fraction, looking up at him with those wide, trusting eyes that had always been his undoing. Your lips pressed into the faintest pout, and though it was subtle, Barty recognized it instantly. He couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound warm and rich as it rumbled in his chest.

Pandora, from her spot across the room, clutched at her heart dramatically. “Merlin, she’s too sweet! Look at her!” she whispered loudly, nudging Regulus, who arched a brow but remained otherwise composed.

Regulus’s silver eyes flicked to you and Barty, a faint smirk playing at his lips. “She’s not saying anything because she doesn’t have to,” he muttered, his voice dry but amused. “That look alone does all the work.”

Meanwhile, Barty was focused entirely on you, his smirk softening into something more tender as he leaned closer, his hand sliding up your back in a lazy, possessive motion. “Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a quieter, more intimate tone. “What is it? You’ve got my attention.”

You tilted your head slightly, your pout deepening just enough to tug at his chest. “You were busy,” you said softly, your voice carrying no hint of accusation, only quiet disappointment. 

Barty’s expression flickered, the teasing edge of his smirk replaced with something almost apologetic. He shifted slightly, pulling you closer until your knees bumped against his. “I wasn’t too busy for you,” he said, his tone softer now, his eyes searching yours. “You know that.”

Pandora let out a delighted squeal, practically bouncing in her seat. “Oh, I love this,” she crowed. “She’s not even mad- just quietly disappointed. It’s perfect.”

Evan groaned from his place by the fireplace, throwing his hands up. “It’s maddening, is what it is. She doesn’t even have to try, and he’s practically falling over himself.”

You were trying to be nice. You really were.

But she was still right there.

You tilted your head slightly, your pout giving way to a small, mischievous smile. Slowly, you leaned closer to Barty, your fingers lightly brushing against his shoulder as you looked up at him, your voice soft and teasing. “You know,” you began, your tone low enough that only he could hear, “I might have something for you.”

Barty’s smirk widened as he leaned in, his hand sliding up your back to rest between your shoulder blades. His eyes searched yours, flickering with intrigue. “Oh? And what might that be?”

You let him lean in closer, his face just inches from yours now, the scent of your perfume enveloping him. He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, inhaling deeply as if trying to commit it to memory. When he opened them again, his gaze was darker, more focused, his lips quirking in an almost predatory grin.

“A reward,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear as you tilted your head slightly, letting him catch another wave of your perfume. His grip on your waist tightened instinctively, and you felt the faintest tremor run through him.

“For the win?” he asked, his voice dropping to match yours, the words laced with anticipation. His free hand slid down to rest lightly on your thigh, his fingers flexing against the fabric of your skirt.

“For the win,” you confirmed, your smile growing as you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable.

“And where,” he asked, his tone still teasing but with an edge of genuine curiosity, “might I find this reward?”

You leaned in again, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, “In your dorm room.”

The words hung between you like a challenge, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to hold its breath. Barty’s eyes widened just slightly, the faintest flush creeping up his neck before his smirk returned, sharper than ever.

Pandora let out a gasp from across the room, clutching at Regulus’s arm as she whispered, “Did she just say what I think she said?”

Regulus didn’t answer immediately, his silver eyes fixed on the two of you with quiet amusement. “She did,” he murmured, his lips twitching in the faintest hint of a smirk. “And I think she means it.”

Evan groaned dramatically, covering his face with his hands. “Merlin, this is unbearable. Just go already and put the rest of us out of our misery.”

You ignored them all, your attention locked on Barty as his smirk softened into something almost affectionate. “Well then,” he murmured, his voice low and warm as he tightened his grip on your waist. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

You slid off his lap with a graceful motion, your fingers trailing down his arm as you stood. Barty followed without hesitation, his movements fluid and deliberate as he kept his hand on the small of your back, guiding you toward the staircase.

Behind you, Pandora’s laughter rang out, bright and full of delight. “Oh, this is brilliant,” she exclaimed, practically bouncing in her seat. “I’ve never seen anything so perfectly dramatic in my life.”

Regulus chuckled softly, shaking his head as he returned to his book. “Let them have their moment,” he said simply, his tone tinged with amusement. “It’s been a long time coming.”

As the two of you disappeared up the staircase, the sound of your friends’ laughter faded into the background, leaving only the steady rhythm of your footsteps and the quiet hum of anticipation crackling between you and Barty. 

You glanced over your shoulder, your smile softening as you caught his gaze. “You really weren’t too busy for me?” you asked, your voice quieter now, more vulnerable.

“Never,” Barty replied without hesitation, his voice steady and sincere. “Not for you.” 

And in that moment, as the door to your dorm room swung shut behind you, you realized that you didn’t need to say anything else. Because she was still down there on that couch.

~~~

The night of your graduation had felt surreal, every moment tinged with a bittersweet haze. The castle, your friends, the life you had known for so many years- it was all slipping away into the past. But there was Barty, steady and constant, as if anchoring you to the present. His presence, sharp and magnetic, was the only thing keeping the melancholy at bay.

After the celebrations, the laughter, and the endless teasing from Pandora and Evan, Barty had pulled you aside. His hand, warm and firm, clasped yours as he whispered in your ear, “Come with me.”

The suggestion, laced with something that felt more like a command than a request, sent a thrill down your spine. 

The night air was crisp as Barty guided you along the dimly lit path, his grip firm but gentle. You had no idea where he was taking you, but his silence spoke volumes. There was a nervous energy to him, the kind of tension he couldn’t quite hide. It wasn’t often that Barty Crouch Jr. seemed unsure of himself, but tonight, there was a vulnerability in his every step.

When you arrived, you couldn’t help but blink in surprise. The small estate before you was a far cry from the grand manors both of you had grown up in. The house was simple, modest, with ivy creeping up the stone walls and a soft glow emanating from the windows. It looked warm, inviting, but entirely unlike the opulence you had expected.

“Barty…” you began, but he shook his head, pulling you toward the door.

“Just… let me show you,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. There was an edge of uncertainty to it, as though he wasn’t sure how you’d react.

He pushed open the door, revealing a small living room. The space was cozy, with a low ceiling and a worn but comfortable-looking sofa. A fireplace crackled softly in the corner, casting flickering shadows across the room. The furniture was simple, not at all like the ornate pieces that filled your childhood home, but it felt… lived-in. Real.

Barty glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, watching your reaction carefully. “It’s not much,” he admitted, his voice tinged with hesitation. “But I wanted it to feel like… like a home.”

You didn’t say anything at first, letting him guide you through the space. The kitchen was small, the kind of place where two people might bump elbows while cooking. The floors creaked softly under your feet, and the scent of wood smoke lingered in the air.

“It’s cozy,” you said finally, your voice soft. And you meant it. There was something about the simplicity of it all that felt refreshing, grounding. It wasn’t about grand gestures or flaunted wealth- it was real.

Barty seemed to relax slightly at your words, his shoulders dropping as he led you down a narrow hallway. “It’s nothing like what we’re used to,” he said, glancing at you again. “But I didn’t want this to be about… them.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I bought this place with my own money. Not my father’s.”

That caught you off guard, and you turned to look at him fully. His expression was unreadable, but his hands fidgeted slightly at his sides- a rare sign of nerves. “Barty…” you started, but he cut you off.

“I wanted to give you something that was ours,” he said, his voice firmer now. “Something that wasn’t tied to the Crouch name or anything else. Just… us.”

Before you could respond, he opened the final door at the end of the hall, revealing a bedroom that stood in stark contrast to the rest of the house. The room was larger than you expected, with high ceilings and a grand four-poster bed draped in rich white and cream fabrics. The walls were lined with shelves, some filled with books, others empty, waiting to be filled. A plush rug covered the wooden floor, and the faint scent of fresh paint lingered in the air.

“This is the only room that’s finished,” Barty admitted, his voice softer now. “I spent most of my time on it because… well, I wanted you to have a space that felt special. Somewhere you could feel like you belonged.”

You stepped inside, running your fingers over the edge of the bedframe. The room was beautiful, but it was the thought behind it that left you speechless. Barty had always been brash, confident to the point of arrogance, but this… this was different. This was him laying his heart bare.

“Why?” you asked finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why do all of this for me?”

He stepped closer, his hands finding yours as he looked down at you. “Because you’re everything to me,” he said simply, his voice steady and sincere. “And I wanted you to have a place where you could feel that. Where you could see how much you mean to me.”

Your chest tightened at his words, a warmth spreading through you that you couldn’t quite describe. You glanced around the room again, taking in the details- the care he had put into every corner, every choice. It was all for you.

“It’s perfect,” you said softly, your voice trembling slightly. “Barty… it’s perfect.”

Barty stood there, watching your expression with a vulnerability he rarely allowed anyone to see. His hands, normally so assured, fidgeted slightly at his sides before he clenched them into fists, as if trying to ground himself. The sight of you standing in the room he’d poured his heart into was almost too much to bear. He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his chest, a steady, insistent rhythm that only grew louder as the silence stretched between you.

You turned back to him, your eyes soft, full of emotions you hadn’t yet put into words. “Barty,” you murmured, stepping closer. “Why are you so nervous? This is… it’s beautiful.”

He let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair in a rare display of uncertainty. “It’s not just the house,” he said, his voice low. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his words sank in. Barty had always been intense, magnetic, impossible to ignore, but this… this was different. There was a raw honesty in his gaze, a kind of vulnerability you weren’t used to seeing from him.

He took a step closer, his hands finding yours as he held them between you, his grip firm yet careful. “I’ve been trying to say this for years,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly despite his best efforts to stay calm. “But every time, I stopped myself. I thought- maybe you’d laugh, or maybe you wouldn’t take me seriously.”

“Barty,” you began softly, but he shook his head, his grip tightening ever so slightly as if afraid you’d slip away.

“No, let me finish,” he said, his voice firmer now, though still tinged with that same vulnerability. “From the moment I met you, you’ve been it for me. The only person who’s ever made me feel like there’s something worth fighting for, something worth… building a life for.”

Your chest tightened at his words, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you stared up at him, your heart pounding in your ears. He stepped closer still, his hands releasing yours only to cup your face, his thumbs brushing softly over your cheeks.

“This house,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s not just for me. It’s for us. Because I want you to have a place that’s ours. A place where you can feel safe, loved, cherished. A place where you know, without a doubt, that you mean everything to me.”

Tears spilled over now, and you couldn’t stop them, even if you wanted to. His words, his actions, the sheer intensity of his gaze- it was all too much, too overwhelming in the best possible way.

“Barty,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I-”

“Marry me,” he said suddenly, the words escaping him in a rush before he could stop them. He froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as if realizing what he’d just said. But then he doubled down, his grip on your face firm but gentle as he continued, his voice steady despite the emotion threatening to break through. “I don’t want to wait anymore. I don’t want to waste another second pretending I can be without you.”

Your breath hitched, your heart racing as you searched his eyes, desperate to find some hint of hesitation, some sign that this wasn’t real. But there was nothing- only pure, unyielding devotion staring back at you.

“Marry me,” he repeated, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “Be mine. Always.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The air between you crackled with unspoken emotion, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the space you shared. And then, finally, you nodded, a watery laugh escaping you as you threw your arms around him.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice breaking as tears streamed down your face. “Yes, Barty. Always.”

His arms wrapped around you instantly, pulling you close as he buried his face in your hair. You could feel the tension leaving his body, replaced by a warmth that seemed to envelop you both, grounding you in a moment you knew you’d remember forever.

Barty's arms tightened around you, pulling you so close you could feel every beat of his racing heart. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply as though committing every part of you to memory. For a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of you standing in the center of a life he'd carefully crafted for this exact moment.

When he pulled back, his hands didn’t leave you. They slid down, trailing over your arms and settling firmly on your waist. His touch lingered, warm and deliberate, and his thumbs brushed over the fabric of your dress in slow, deliberate circles. His gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Say it again,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, like he was trying to ground himself in your words.

You blinked, still caught in the whirlwind of his confession, your lips trembling as you whispered, “Yes, Barty. Always.”

A quiet, almost desperate sound escaped him- a mixture of relief and something deeper, something darker. His hands moved again, sliding up your sides and coming to rest just below your ribs. His touch was firm but not forceful, grounding you as his head dipped closer to yours.

The first kiss was tentative, almost shy, his lips brushing against yours with a softness that belied the intensity simmering beneath the surface. It was slow, unhurried, as though he was savoring every second. But then he sighed against your mouth, a deep, shaky sound that seemed to break the fragile barrier between you.

Barty’s hands tightened on your waist as the kiss deepened, becoming more consuming, more insistent. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your knees weak, and his fingers gripped you like he was afraid to let go. He muttered something against your lips- soft, almost inaudible- but you caught the words anyway.

“Mine.”

The word sent a spark through you, igniting something you hadn’t realized was waiting just below the surface. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips firmly as he pulled you closer, eliminating any remaining space between you. His lips left yours, trailing a heated path along your jaw and down your neck, and he whispered again, his voice rough and breathless.

“My girl.”

You gasped, your hands finding their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as he continued his assault on your senses. His lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, and you couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped you.

“Say it,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. His hands roamed over your sides, one sliding up to cup the back of your neck while the other pressed firmly against the small of your back, keeping you anchored to him. “Say you’re mine.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat as his lips returned to yours, claiming them with a renewed intensity. The hand on your neck tilted your head back slightly, giving him better access as he kissed you with a fervor that bordered on desperate. Every touch, every kiss, was a silent declaration, a promise etched into your skin.

“Barty,” you breathed against his lips, your voice trembling but certain. “I’m yours.”

A growl rumbled in his chest, and his hands tightened their hold on you, pulling you even closer. “My fiancée,” he muttered, the words almost a growl as they left his lips. “You’re my fiancée now.”

You could barely think, barely breathe as his words washed over you, each one sinking into your skin and branding itself into your very being. His kisses turned more fervent, more insistent, and his hands roamed your body with a possessiveness that left no doubt in your mind: you were his, completely and utterly.

The atmosphere in the bedroom shifted, the air thick with tension as Barty backed you toward the bed. You stumbled slightly, caught off guard by the suddenness of his movements, but his hands were there to steady you- firm, commanding, and undeniably possessive. Before you could say a word, he pressed his body to yours, his touch leaving a trail of heat wherever his hands grazed. 

“Barty-” but the words barely left your lips before he lowered his head, capturing your mouth with a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. It was rougher this time, more insistent, as if he was claiming you with every movement. His hands slid down your sides, warm and steady, guiding you as he nudged you back onto the bed.

You let out a soft gasp as your back hit the mattress, but there was no time to process it before Barty climbed on top of you, settling himself firmly between your thighs. The weight of him against you was grounding, his presence overwhelming in the best way. His hand splayed across your side, his thumb brushing the curve of your hip in slow, deliberate circles that sent shivers coursing through your body.

He kissed you again, harder this time, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that left you breathless. His free hand slid up your body, his fingers trailing along the line of your ribs before settling just beneath your jaw. He tilted your head slightly, deepening the kiss as his thumb brushed against the sensitive skin of your neck.

Your heart was racing now, thundering in your chest as his hand pressed more firmly against your throat. It wasn’t enough to hurt- never that- but just enough to make you hyper-aware of every beat of your pulse, every shallow breath that passed your lips. The sensation sent a dizzying rush through your veins, leaving you lightheaded and craving more.

“Look at me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and rough. When you hesitated, your gaze flickering away, he pressed his nose to your cheek, letting out a sound that was nothing short of devastated. It was a quiet, broken noise, like it physically hurt him that you weren’t looking at him.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice softer now, tinged with something vulnerable. “Don’t look away.”

Your breath hitched as his thumb brushed over your pulse point, his touch firm but careful. The weight of his gaze was almost too much, too intense, but you forced yourself to meet his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, the dark orbs filled with an unspoken need that made your chest ache.

“There you are,” he said softly, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. His hand tightened slightly on your neck, just enough to make your head swim, and you felt the corners of his mouth twitch into a smirk. “That’s my girl.”

Your cheeks flushed, the words sinking into your skin like a brand. His hand on your side slid lower, his fingers grazing the edge of your skirt as he pressed his body more firmly against yours. The heat of him was intoxicating, his presence all-consuming, and you couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped you as his lips found your neck.

“Barty,” you gasped, your voice trembling as he nipped at the sensitive skin just below your ear. His teeth grazed your pulse point, and you felt his smirk against your skin as his tongue soothed the sting.

“I can feel your heart racing,” he murmured, his voice low and full of satisfaction. His hand on your neck flexed slightly, the pressure just enough to send a wave of dizziness through you. “It’s like it’s beating just for me.”

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, desperate for something to ground yourself as his kisses trailed down your throat. Every touch, every movement, was deliberate, calculated to drive you to the brink. And yet, despite the overwhelming intensity of it all, there was a tenderness to him- a care that shone through even in his most possessive moments.

He pulled back just enough to look at you again, his gaze heavy with unspoken emotion. His hand slid up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he searched your face. “Tell me who you belong to,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Say it clearly.”

You swallowed hard, your lips parting as you tried to steady your breath. “B-Barty,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure. “You.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest, and his grip on you tightened, his lips crashing against yours once more. This kiss was different- hungrier, more desperate, like he was trying to pour every ounce of his devotion into it. Merlin, it almost hurt. His hands roamed your body, one sliding down to grip your thigh as he pressed himself closer.

Barty’s voice dropped to a hushed whisper as his fingers pressed into your thigh, his grip firm and unyielding. “No one else,” he murmured, his tone low and reverent, like a vow. “No one else will ever leave a mark on you. Only me. Only my hands.”

Your breath hitched as his words settled over you, each syllable searing into your skin. His eyes burned with something primal, his usual mischievous smirk replaced by a solemn intensity that made your pulse race. He wasn’t teasing anymore- this was raw, unfiltered, and entirely Barty.

His hand slid higher, pushing the hem of your skirt up with deliberate slowness. The cool air brushed against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his touch. His thumb pressed lightly into your thigh, and you couldn’t stop the soft gasp that escaped your lips. The sound made his smirk return, sharp and predatory.

“You feel that?” He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as his hand traced a path upward. “That’s me. Just me. No one else gets to touch you like this.”

Your grip on his shoulders tightened,  your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as he shifted closer, his body pressing against yours. His other hand cradled your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone as his gaze locked onto yours. There was no escaping it, no looking away from the sheer possessiveness in his expression.

“You're so cute.” He chuckled, but his voice was firmer now, the words carrying a weight that left no room for argument. “So bloody trusting.”

“Not scared,” you whispered, your voice trembling but resolute. The admission felt like both a surrender and a victory, and the way his eyes darkened made your chest tighten. “It's you.”

Barty let out a soft, almost triumphant laugh, his hand tightening on your thigh just enough to make you gasp. “Good girl,” he murmured, this time, it was his teeth that trailed down your neck. Before giving you a rather punishing bite. Your skin burned, tinted, but he still didn't let up. 

You gasped when he only bit down harder. Your legs flinching against him, only one able to raise as the other was kept down by his harsh grip. You were sure the spot was bruised.

It drove him mad.

You never voice protest against his abuse.

He cooed at you, like a dog for good behavior, before he finally let up. He kissed your soft skin as a feeble apology. His kisses turned rougher, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. You felt the faint sting of his touch, a possessive claim that made your heart race. “No one else,” he muttered against your skin, his voice almost a growl. “No one else will ever get this close to you. Not while I’m breathing.”

The intensity of his words, his touch, his presence- it was overwhelming, consuming, and yet you didn’t want it to stop. Barty had always been a force of nature, wild and untamed, but in this moment, he was entirely focused on you.

“Barty,” you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper as his hand slipped higher, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. “Please…”

He paused for a moment, his lips hovering over yours as he searched your face. His thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant. “Please what?” he asked, his voice low and filled with unspoken promise. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

You swallowed hard, your cheeks flushed as you met his gaze. The weight of his attention, the sheer intensity in his eyes, made it impossible to think straight. “I want…” Your words faltered, and he tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he waited.

“Say it,” he urged, his voice like a caress. His hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he leaned closer. “I need to hear you say it.”

You took a shaky breath, your fingers curling into his shirt as you whispered, “I want you.”

Barty’s smirk softened, his expression melting into something almost tender. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he murmured, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that left you breathless.

You could hardly register what happened next. How his hand slid down your throat, slow and careful. The soft sound of his buckle latch clicking against the floor. 

When he broke the kiss you were too far gone to say another word to him. A small trail of saliva connecting you two- leaving Barty awestruck at the proof of your mindless obedience. 

His girl.

[enhasntty]

their love languages pairing: ot7 x reader genre: fluff word count: 828

Heeseung's love language is physical touch, but he’s subtle about it. He loves having you close, whether it’s as simple as your legs draped over his while you’re lounging or a soft kiss pressed to your temple when you’re distracted.

“Why do you always look so cute when you’re not paying attention?” he asks with a smile, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

You roll your eyes at the cheesy compliment, but he just grins and pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Can we stay like this forever?”

And when you kiss him softly in reply, his arms tighten around you.

Jay's love language is acts of service, and it’s most obvious when you’re cooking together. He insists on doing all the hard work, but you keep stealing bites of ingredients, driving him a little crazy.

“Stop that!” he laughs, swatting at your hand as you sneak another piece of cheese.

“But it tastes better when I steal it,” you tease, grinning at him.

He sighs dramatically but pulls you close, his arms wrapping around your waist. “You’re so lucky you’re cute,” he mutters before kissing you softly, lingering just enough to make your heart race.

You smirk when he pulls away. “Does this mean I can keep stealing snacks?”

Jay groans. “I can’t win with you.”

Jake's love language is physical affection, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. At the park on a chilly day, he notices you shivering and immediately wraps you in his scarf, pulling you into his arms.

“Better?” he asks, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You nod, but before you can thank him, he presses a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally your lips, soft and warm.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” he teases, grinning when your cheeks flush.

You bury your face in his chest to hide your embarrassment, and he only laughs, holding you closer. “Let’s stay like this a little longer, okay?”

Sunghoon's love language is quality time, and he loves sharing his hobbies with you. Today, he’s teaching you how to skate, though it mostly involves him laughing at your wobbly attempts.

“You’re supposed to stay upright,” he teases, effortlessly skating circles around you.

“You’re supposed to help me,” you retort, grabbing his hands for balance.

Sunghoon steadies you easily, but the proximity makes his cheeks turn pink. “You’re impossible,” he mumbles, but his grip on your hands tightens.

When you lean up and kiss his nose, his blush deepens, and he groans. “Stop doing that!”

“Why? You’re cute when you’re flustered,” you reply with a grin.

He sighs, but he’s smiling as he kisses you softly in return.

Sunoo's love language is giving affection, so he doesn’t know what to do when you turn the tables. Sitting across from him in a café, you reach out and take his hand, your thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“You’re so pretty,” you say with a soft smile.

Sunoo blinks, his confident demeanor cracking as his cheeks turn pink. “W-What are you—”

Before he can finish, you lean forward and kiss his cheek. His hands immediately fly up to cover his face. “Y-Yah! What are you doing?”

“Just letting you know how cute you are,” you reply, grinning.

He groans dramatically but can’t hide the shy smile peeking out from behind his hands. “You’re evil,” he mutters, but the way he leans closer afterward says otherwise.

Jungwon's love language is words of affirmation, but he melts when you’re the one making him flustered. One evening, he’s talking animatedly about a show you’re watching together, completely unaware of how adorable he looks.

“You’re so cute when you get excited,” you say suddenly, cutting him off.

Jungwon freezes, his cheeks turning pink. “W-What?”

Before he can recover, you lean in and press a kiss to his cheek. His eyes widen, and he stammers, “Y-You can’t just do that out of nowhere!”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “Why not? I think you like it.”

Jungwon groans but doesn’t push you away, mumbling, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Ni-ki's love language is playful teasing, but he doesn’t know what to do when you flip the script. Mid-video game, you lean over and kiss his cheek, making his character run straight off the screen.

“W-What was that for?!” he exclaims, his face turning red.

“Just a distraction,” you reply with a smirk.

Ni-ki glares at you, but the blush on his cheeks gives him away. “That’s cheating!”

“All’s fair in love and war,” you tease, leaning closer to kiss his other cheek.

He groans, hiding his face behind his hands, but you can hear him mutter, “You’re lucky I like you.”

i've seen a lot of people do this before but I don't know if anyone did the exact idea and likes and reblogs are very much appreciated

[sombrashe]

content dark themes, virginity loss, drug use, america mention

✮⋆˙ namgyu who loves blowjobs

theres just something about a nice warm throat that makes his dick jump in his sweats. and then theres something about your nice warm throat and suddenly hes like a teenager again.

the way he acts when he wants one is borderline annoying. he whines a bunch and gets extra clingy especially when you're busy. he'll place his hand on your knee and kiss your neck ever so softly just getting you riled up.

never gives back. he'll give head when he deems it worthy but beyond the occasional anniversary head you're shit out of luck. you've given up asking for it a while back and honestly it's fine. he does still get you wet he just doesn't use his mouth to get you there.

✮⋆˙ namgyu who has a corruption kink

his dream is to take a virgin and fuck them so good they're ruined for any other dick. he's had a lot of practice by the time he meets you. when you agree to sleep with him is the only time he willing gives head. he needs you to feel safe and secure if he's going to be a permanent fixture in your mind.

he'll watch from the sidelines whenever you're talking to someone at the club. holes burning into the back of your skull leave you stuttering and suddenly unsure of yourself in the conversation. you'll excuse yourself completely unaware why you're acting like this and go back to him with your tail tucked between your legs.

he pesters you to try new things sexually all the time. honestly this man probably has you trying things you were always against. he has such a way with words when it comes to getting you to open up. he'll give you everything you need to get you to say yes even if it means making promises he doesn't plan to keep.

✮⋆˙ namgyu who loves period sex

it's not just the blood that he likes. it's how sensitive your tits are leading up to when your period starts. it's when you're complaining about feeling bloated and how much you're breaking out. it's knowing you're going to be pliant and sensitive the entire time.

this is the only time he actually pits effort into sex. towels down to cover your sheets? done. water and some pain medicine on standby? done. fresh clothes and pad for after your shower sitting on the sink? done. anything to get him to his main goal of getting his dick wet.

his favorite part is how little foreplay he has to do before he can slip it in. he still does of course because he doesn't want to hear your whining. but it takes a lot less time and he loves that. calls your blood natural lube and gets to work rearranging your insides.

✮⋆˙ namgyu who has a pornhub premium account

he's has the same account for years. never comments or donates just saves videos that he watches over and over again. it's filled with american pornstars always speaking filthy english while getting pounded and korean cam girls whispering sweet nothings into the mic as they bounce.

he doesn't give up his porn watching for anyone. instead he'll simply tweak his search engine to better reflect the relationship he's currently in. chubby white girl gets dicked down, black doctor gives her make patient a blowjob, korean cam girls moaning like sluts. he doesn't watch it often when he's in a relationship because he honestly expects sex from his partner at some point pretty early into the relationship.

✮⋆˙ namgyu who's always high during sex

he loves seeing his partners pupils blow wide as he places another tablet on their tongue. drugs only being used because they trust him that much. he always keeps up with them up until they physically have to stop so they don't overdose.

he's always on something and you can normally tell what it is based off his eyes and the way he acts around you. clingy namgyu is because of coke. irritable namgyu is because of heroin. horny namgyu is because of weed. hyper namgyu is because of ecstasy. he's been every which way in front of you and you don't seem to love him any less.

when he fucks it's methodical depending on how fucked up the drug makes him. sometimes he's almost robotic with the way his thrusts are calculated and other times he acts as though he has no bones in his body the way he bends and positions himself to reach deeper.

✮⋆˙ namgyu who's insecure af

he will literally never admit it but he's a very very insecure man. he brags to high heaven about how good he is in bed but deep down he's unsure of himself. whenever you compliment him or his abilities in bed his ego spikes.

he needs constant reassurance in little things like "i love you." "you look handsome today, baby." or "god that was amazing." not overtly reassuring but instead subtle to not get him in his head. he never asks for it so it's up to you to figure it out which in of itself annoying but you do whatever you can for your mans <3

✮⋆˙ namgyu who loves to hear you talk

he's not a talker when it comes to any real aspect of his life. but in bed all you get are heavy breaths and the occasional whine or moan. he chooses his partners on how little they annoy him and how much yapping he can stomach. with you those rules go out the window. the first time you sucked him off you talked so much he had to shove your head down to shut you up.

during sex you love making noises and whine for him. begging is a lot of your talking. please and yes the two words that make up most of your vocabulary. he loves leaving you a babbling mess of cum and spit. when he's doesn't want to listen he'll shove you head into a pillow. it doesn't shut you up just makes everything muffled and it ends up spurring him on further.

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Fallingforyou

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Teammate!Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

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Sebastian was not timid by any means when it came to love—he was a flirt. Nonetheless, with her, it was different. She had a way of making him nervous with just a simple, yet stunning, smile. And that didn’t help when she was his teammate.

That nervousness wasn’t eased by the fact that he didn’t look anything like her past boyfriends. They were all rather tall with much darker hair—she definitely had a type. But why was he even comparing himself to her exes?

There were those moments that made him start to question whether it was much more than admiration. Those situations where all of his confidence was replaced by some sense of self-doubt, of not being enough for her.

The lights in the press conference room were unforgiving, hot and glaring as always. Sebastian shifted in his seat, leaning back slightly to try to get comfortable. He was seated next to her, their elbows brushing occasionally on the narrow table. Normally, these post-race media sessions were nothing more than routine—a necessary but dull part of the job. But today, Sebastian’s heart was inexplicably racing faster than his car had been earlier.

She sat to his left, her posture relaxed, answering a question about their team’s recent performance with her usual eloquence. Sebastian couldn’t help but glance at her. The way she spoke, gesturing subtly with her hands, her words measured and confident—it was mesmerizing. She was mesmerizing.

His gaze lingered longer than it should have, following the curve of her smile, her soft rosy lips,  as she finished her answer and glanced at him briefly, as if to gauge his reaction. Sebastian quickly looked down at the microphone in front of him, feigning interest in his folded hands, his cheeks warming.

Get a grip, he scolded himself internally. You’re acting ridiculous.

“Sebastian,” a reporter called out, snapping him back to reality. “How do you feel about the progress Toro Rosso has made this season? Especially compared to last year?”

He cleared his throat, willing his voice to come out steady. “Uh, yeah, I think we’ve made a lot of progress. The car is improving with every race, and the team has been working really hard—credit to everyone back at the factory.”

It was a safe, rehearsed answer, but as he spoke, he could feel her gaze on him, like a spotlight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her listening to the answer intently.

When the next question was directed to her, he tried not to watch her too obviously. He failed miserably. She was so composed, effortlessly charming as she answered, even managing to make the whole room laugh with a well-placed joke about the team’s radio banter during the race. Sebastian found himself grinning along with the others, but his smile lingered longer, softer, as he looked at her.

“Seb, do you have anything to add to that?” the moderator asked, and Sebastian froze.

“I—uh…” He hesitated, caught completely off guard. His mind had been elsewhere—on the way her hair fell over her shoulder, the way her voice lilted when she was explaining something technical. “No, I think she covered it,” he said finally, trying to sound composed.

She seemed so unaware of the effect she had on him—so oblivious it was almost obnoxious. It was her smile, her disarming smile, that left him feeling weak at the knees.

And her friendliness was not helping, not at all. Always being charming, her cheerfulness contagious. Her unanimous kindness made him feel worse, as it was indiscriminate.

It was a late flight, and the dimmed lights inside the cabin reflected the shared exhaustion among the travelers. Sebastian leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, though he was not remotely close to sleep.

She was sitting next to him, flipping through some motorsport magazine, her focus entirely on the glossy pages. It was one of those rare quiet moments they shared, away from the chaos of the paddock and the cameras. The air between them was calm, almost comfortable, and yet Sebastian was hyper-aware of her presence, every small movement drawing his attention.

He straightened up, reaching for the water bottle on his tray table. His hands were slightly stiff from the race earlier, and when he twisted the cap, it didn’t budge. He tried again, more forcefully this time, but the cap refused to give way.

“Need some help there?” Her voice broke through his concentration, teasing yet gentle.

Sebastian glanced at her, trying to suppress the flush creeping up his neck. “No, I’ve got it,” he muttered, though he clearly did not. He twisted again, his grip slipping slightly against the plastic.

She put the magazine down, raising an eyebrow. “Sure you do,” she said, her tone playful. Without waiting for his permission, she reached over, her fingers brushing against his as she took the bottle from his hands.

“Hey,” he protested halfheartedly, but she ignored him, focusing on the stubborn cap.

With a quick twist, the cap popped open, and she handed the bottle back to him, a triumphant smile lighting up her face. “There you go. Saved you from a hydration crisis.”

Sebastian took the bottle, his fingers lingering against hers for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. He tried to play it cool, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. “I loosened it for you.”

“Of course you did,” she replied, rolling her eyes, but her smile didn’t waver. She leaned back in her seat, picking up the magazine again, her attention seemingly returning to it.

Sebastian stared at the water bottle in his hand, his lips quirking up into a small, involuntary smile. “Thanks,” he mumbled, more sincerely this time.

“Anytime,” she replied without looking up, but there was something in her voice—something warm and teasing that made his heart stutter for a moment.

For the rest of the flight, Sebastian found himself glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, the ghost of her touch still lingering on his skin. It was a small moment, insignificant to anyone else, perhaps even to her, but to him, it felt like the world had shifted just slightly on its axis.

Moments like that were recurrent, small interactions that he deemed as the world. He was falling for her—deeply, hopelessly—and yet she remained unaware, oblivious. She only saw him as a teammate, perhaps a friend. But he wanted, needed, much more than that.

The day had been grueling, the kind of race that left them both utterly drained. Long hours, relentless heat, and the mental strain of every decision on track—it all piled up. By the time the debriefs ended, the paddock had quieted to a near hush, save for the distant hum of a few lingering engineers.

As they made their way toward the parking lot, Sebastian glanced at her, summoning his courage. “Do you want to grab some dinner?” he asked, his voice carefully casual.

She looked over at him with a small, tired smile. “Sure. Is the rest of the team coming?”

His heart sank for a moment, but he quickly masked it. “No, just us. Everyone else either already left or has other plans.”

“Oh,” she said, her tone light, completely neutral. “Well, honestly, I’m too exhausted to sit at a restaurant. What if we just grab takeout and eat at the hotel?”

Her suggestion caught him off guard, a flicker of unexpected happiness warming his chest. It wasn’t much, but the idea of sharing a meal in a quieter, more intimate setting was… nice. But then her tone struck him—a friendly, casual remark with no hint of deeper meaning. It was just her being practical, not anything more.

“Yeah, that sounds great,” he replied, managing a smile that he hoped didn’t betray the mix of emotions swirling inside him.

When they arrived back at the hotel with their food, she kicked off her shoes and dropped onto the bed, cross-legged. She opened the containers, the aroma of Thai food filling the small room. Sebastian lingered by the doorway, his hands in his pockets, unsure whether to claim the couch or the empty spot beside her on the bed.

“This smells incredible,” she said, unpacking the spring rolls and curries, barely glancing up. “Are you going to hover there all night, or are you going to sit down?”

“Right, yeah,” he mumbled, taking a cautious step toward the bed. His eyes flicked between the couch and her inviting spot.

“Come on, Seb,” she added, her tone light. “I don’t bite. At least not teammates.”

He laughed nervously, finally sitting on the edge of the bed, leaving a polite gap between them.

“So,” she began, picking up a spring roll and dipping it into the small sauce container, “did you hear about that mess with the hotel staff earlier?”

He raised an eyebrow, thankful for the casual topic. “No. What happened?”

“Apparently, one of the guests on our floor got locked out of their room in a towel,” she said, suppressing a giggle. “Like, full-on dripping wet, and they had to walk all the way to the front desk to get a spare key.”

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s brutal. Was it anyone from the paddock?”

“No idea,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “But I overheard someone saying they left their room to grab ice and forgot the door locks automatically. Can you imagine?”

“Honestly, I’d die of embarrassment,” Sebastian admitted, reaching for one of the spring rolls. “I’d probably just sleep in the hallway rather than face the lobby in a towel.”

She laughed, leaning forward slightly, her shoulder brushing his. “Come on, you’ve been through way worse. You’d survive.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, smiling at her. “But I’m not taking the risk. I’d have to retire from racing after that.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, popping a bite of her food into her mouth. “Drama queen.”

He smirked, leaning back a little. “Speaking of drama… did you hear about the argument between two of the engineers during practice?”

Her eyes lit up with curiosity. “No, but I love a good behind-the-scenes argument. Tell me more?”

Sebastian hesitated, glancing around the room like someone might overhear. “Apparently, they were arguing about who was supposed to order the new parts for the rear wing. It got loud enough that the team manager had to step in.”

She gasped, hand covering her mouth in mock shock. “Who won the argument?”

He grinned. “No idea. But I bet the team manager just ordered the parts himself to avoid another round of bickering.”

They laughed together, the easy camaraderie filling the room. The space between them shrank as their conversation drifted into more lighthearted gossip and stories. Without realizing it, Sebastian had inched closer, drawn to the warmth of her laughter and the way her smile lit up the room. If only she knew that every shared moment like this pulled him deeper into feelings he was too scared to put into words.

She had this magnetic aura around her, and he was falling so deeply for it. He had only allowed to glance at her intently after a lot of talking, his eyes scanning his face as if he was memorizing it. Her face bare, free of any makeup, her expression relaxed. 

She looked up, catching his gaze. “What?” she asked, laughing softly.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, looking down at his food, his ears burning.

She shook her head with a smile, completely unaware of the storm inside him. To her, this was just another meal, just another moment. But to him, it was everything.

She didn’t see the clues. She didn’t notice what his stare meant—the storm she caused with only a smile. Sometimes, it was so much that he just wanted to grab her by the shoulders, lock her eyes on his, and confess directly, just to have a taste of her lips afterward. But that could only ever happen in his imagination.

They were sitting in the team hospitality area, the usual post-race buzz in the air. The conversation was light—nothing too intense, just teammates catching up. They had their drinks in hand, chatting about anything but racing, enjoying the rare chance to just relax.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, trying to seem casual, but his leg shifted slightly, and before he knew it, his thigh brushed against hers. It was just a fleeting moment, but his heart skipped a beat, and he pulled his leg back almost instinctively.

“Um, sorry,” he muttered, feeling a little awkward.

She glanced at him, her expression not changing at all. “What for?” she asked, a bit surprised.

He shrugged, feeling a little silly now. “Just, uh, didn't mean to... you know, bump you.”

She smiled, unfazed. “Seb, it's fine. Really.”

He relaxed a little, still feeling a bit embarrassed but trying to play it cool. “Okay, good,” he said with a half-smile, reaching for his drink to distract himself.

She chuckled softly and shook her head. “You’re so weird,” she teased, taking a sip from her cup.

He grinned, shaking his head. “Hey, I’m just trying to be polite.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” she said with a small grin.

They both settled back, a bit more comfortable now, the small moment fading into the background. 

Moments like those just reminded him how impossible it seemed to confess the feelings he had undoubtedly developed. He was so smitten that the thought of her probable rejection terrified him, and apart from hurting his feelings, it would make things awkward between them.

The takeout in hotel rooms became almost a tradition on bad races, simply because it was a very relaxed, laid back plan. And that day’s race had gone horribly. Nothing had gone right for either of them—strategy calls, pit stops, even the weather seemed to conspire against them. By the time they pulled into the paddock, both of them were exhausted, drained from the physical and emotional toll of a bad weekend.

They were both sitting on the edge of the bed, chatting about anything but the race. They lacked enthusiasm, but at least they were in the same moody mood and fairly close, so it was good company.

She was explaining some anecdote—one that he would have found hilarious if he had actually been listening. His mind, exhausted, could only focus on—or get distracted by—how her velvety lips stretched with every smile, how her long curly lashes batted every once in a while, how her silky hair fell over in the most angelic way.

“Seb, are you even listening?” She asked, chuckling slightly, knowing how mentally draining bad races were, and how he was probably just pondering what went wrong.

Sebastian blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He realized he’d been staring at her without even realizing it. His gaze quickly darted away, focusing on the half-eaten food in front of him. “Sorry, I—” he started, shaking his head as if trying to clear the fog from his mind. 

“It’s fine, it’s been such a long day,” she chuckled, not bothered at all.

Sebastian felt the weight of his words pressing down on him, but he could no longer keep them bottled up. The exhaustion from the race, the silence of the room, and the way she casually brushed off his earlier distraction—all of it seemed to make everything more intense. Her laughter, light and easy, echoed in his ears, but underneath it, something else stirred in him, something that had been there for a while now.

He shifted slightly on the bed, his leg brushing against hers again. He froze for a moment, feeling that familiar surge of warmth that always came with her proximity. Her easy demeanor, her kindness, it all made her so magnetic.

His eyes lingered on her lips, not even trying to hide it. And yet, she was so unaware he had to start questioning whether she was blind. He subtly sighed, the exhaustion and exasperation mixing in a very potent cocktail of emotions.

He shifted just slightly closer, hoping she would notice, even if it was just to pull back, but at least be aware of it. And yet she remained silent, not moving, nonetheless not reacting, not even as their thighs brushed.

She wondered if something more was going through his mind after he sighed. Still, she was so used to seeing him act very—let’s say—strangely around her that she thought that was just who he was.

Seb observed as she placed the now-empty plate aside, the exhaustion from the race evident in her movements. His gaze landed on her neck. He didn’t want to be her friend; he wanted, needed, to kiss her neck.

“Seb, you good?” she finally asked, noticing his vacant look.

He looked up, meeting her eyes, Seb’s eyes never left hers, and the rawness of his emotions took over, overriding everything else. The room felt suffocating, yet his words were finally free—unfiltered, direct, and almost harsh in their intensity.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, his voice thick with a determination that caught her off guard. He moved closer, his body now right beside hers, and he leaned in, his eyes dark with an unspoken urgency. “I can’t pretend like this is just some stupid friendship or teammate dynamic. It’s not. I’m not doing that to myself anymore.”

She froze, her gaze searching his face for any sign of what he was referring to, but there was none. His expression was hard, unwavering.

“I want you,” he stated, his voice steady but intense. “I don’t want to just be around you, to watch from the sidelines like I’ve been doing. I want more than that. I want you the way I’ve been wanting you for so long, and I can’t keep holding it back.”

“Wow,” she said, surprised, yet not unkindly, by the bluntness of it all. “Really?” she asked, incredulously.

He still couldn’t believe how she had been so oblivious. He nodded intently, his eyes trying to get a grasp of what was going on in her head, and yet, they couldn’t move away when they landed on her lips.

She finally noticed his intense gaze on her lips, nodding ever so slightly. That was enough for him to reduce the distance between them. His eyes left her lips for a second, seeking another confirmation from her eager expression, and without further hesitation, he captured her lips.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✯ authors note: English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <333

[antinousletmehit]

୨୧┇made more early palace stuff

୨୧┇warnings: reader gets her first period.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Antinous leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eye as he whispered to Y/N. “Alright, kid. Here’s the plan. You take this bucket—” he held up a small bucket filled with water, balanced precariously on the edge of a slightly open door, “—and when Telemachus walks in, boom. Instant shower.”

She giggled, covering her mouth to stifle the sound. “He’s going to be so mad!”

“That’s the idea,” Antinous replied with a smirk, ruffling her hair. “But remember, you have to act innocent afterward. Real wide eyes, maybe even throw in some fake tears if he gets too angry. You know, your specialty.”

She stuck out her tongue playfully but nodded, determined. “Got it.”

The two hid behind a pillar, peeking out as Telemachus approached the door. He was muttering to himself, likely about some book or strategy, completely unaware of the trap set for him. As soon as he pushed the door open, the bucket tipped, dumping the cold water directly onto his head. Telemachus froze, his hair plastered to his face, water dripping down his tunic.

She clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing too loudly, while Antinous bit down on his knuckle, his shoulders shaking with silent amusement. “What in the name of the gods—” Telemachus sputtered, wiping water from his eyes.

She finally stepped out, her best innocent expression plastered on her face. “Oh no, Telemachus! Are you okay?” she asked, her voice dripping with fake concern.

Telemachus glared at her, then at the still-dripping bucket on the floor. “Y/N,” he said slowly, “was this your doing?”

She shook her head furiously, her eyes wide. “Me? No way! I would never do something like that!”

Antinous, still hiding, nearly lost it when he saw Telemachus narrow his eyes at her, clearly not buying it but unable to prove anything. “You’re lucky I can’t prove it,” Telemachus muttered, stepping over the bucket with as much dignity as he could muster. As soon as he was out of earshot, Antinous and his sister burst into laughter, clutching their sides.

“That was perfect!” Antinous said, wiping a tear from his eye. “I knew you had it in you.”

She grinned, her chest puffed out with pride. “Can we do it again?”

Antinous chuckled. “Let’s give it a day or two. Gotta keep him on his toes.”

——

The palace halls were dark and silent, save for the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the walls and the low rumble of thunder that followed. Y/N clutched her doll tightly to her chest, her small frame trembling with every loud crash. She had tried to stay in her own bed, but the storm was too much. She needed Antinous. She padded softly to his room, her bare feet cold against the stone floor. Reaching his door, she hesitated for only a moment before knocking gently. “Antinous?” she called out in a small voice. No answer.

She frowned and tried again. “Antinous, are you there?” Still nothing. Carefully, she pushed the door open and peeked inside, only to find the room empty. The bed was messily made, and his belongings were untouched. A pang of panic bubbled in her chest. Where could he be? Another deafening clap of thunder made her jump, and she whimpered softly. Left with no other choice, she turned and headed down the hall toward Eurymachus’s room.

Standing outside his door, she hesitated. Eurymachus wasn’t exactly… comforting, but she didn’t want to be alone. Summoning her courage, she knocked lightly. The door creaked open after a moment, and a very sleepy, disheveled Eurymachus appeared, his hair sticking up in all directions. He squinted at her. “Y/N? What in Hades are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

“There’s a storm,” she said, her voice trembling. She hugged her doll tighter. “Antinous isn’t in his room. I—I don’t want to be alone.”

Eurymachus blinked, clearly caught off guard. He scratched the back of his head and sighed. “Alright, alright, come in,” he mumbled, stepping aside to let her in. She shuffled into the room and climbed onto the edge of his bed, curling up with her doll. Eurymachus shut the door and rubbed his face, muttering something about how he wasn’t equipped to deal with scared kids. He sat on the bed beside her, awkwardly patting her back.

“There, there,” he said, clearly unsure of what else to do. “It’s just some loud noises. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“But it’s so loud,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Eurymachus sighed, lying back on the bed and resting his hands behind his head. “I hate this…whatever, you can stay here. But don’t hog the blanket.” She nodded, her fear easing slightly as she laid down beside him. She still flinched at the thunder, but somehow, knowing she wasn’t alone made it a little less scary.

As she drifted off to sleep, Eurymachus stared at the ceiling, muttering to himself. “Antinous owes me for this,” he said quietly, shaking his head.

——

Y/N woke up in Eurymachus’s bed, her face pale and her breathing shallow. She didn’t understand what was happening—there was blood on the sheets, and panic settled in her chest. Eurymachus, still half asleep, groaned and turned over, completely unaware of the situation. She tugged on his sleeve, her voice trembling. “Eury… something’s wrong with me. I’m… I’m bleeding.”

Eurymachus cracked one eye open and looked at her, his brows knitting together. He sat up, yawning. “Bleeding? What do you mean—” His eyes fell on the stained sheets, and he froze. Before Eurymachus could even process what was happening, the door slammed open, and Antinous stormed in, looking ready to drag Y/N back to her room.

“Why is she in your bed?” Antinous demanded, his voice sharp. But then his gaze landed on the blood, and his expression twisted into something far darker. “What the Hades is this?”

Eurymachus immediately raised his hands in defense. “Wait, wait, wait! This is not what it looks like!”

“She’s bleeding!” Antinous bellowed, stepping forward and grabbing Eurymachus by the collar. “What did you do to her?”

Y/N, still overwhelmed and not understanding why her body was betraying her, burst into tears. “Antinous, stop! He didn’t do anything!” Antinous froze, glancing down at Pandora as she sobbed. Eurymachus took the opportunity to slip from his grasp and put some distance between them.

“Calm down!” Eurymachus hissed, brushing himself off. “Your sister just got her first period. That’s all!”

“A what?” Antinous blinked, completely thrown.

“Her period, you idiot!” Eurymachus shouted, exasperated. “You know, that thing girls deal with every month? She’s not dying, and I didn’t do anything to her!”

Antinous stood there for a moment, processing this new and horrifying information. He looked down at Y/N, who was sniffling and wiping her tears. His anger deflated, replaced by a mixture of awkwardness and concern.

“…Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks reddening slightly. “I didn’t… I didn’t know.”

Eurymachus crossed his arms and smirked. “Yeah, no kidding. Now that we’ve cleared that up, maybe you can stop trying to kill me every time something happens.”

Antinous ignored him and crouched down to her level, his tone softening. “Y/N, why didn’t you come to me?”

“You weren’t in your room,” she mumbled, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Antinous sighed and gently patted her head. “It’s okay. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. Eurymachus clearly isn’t equipped to handle this.”

Eurymachus scoffed. “Like you are?”

Antinous shot him a glare before carefully guiding his sister out of the room. As they left, she glanced back and stuck her tongue out at Eurymachus, who just rolled his eyes.

“Next time, don’t wake me up for this,” he muttered to himself, flopping back into bed.

——

Y/N, having been left to her own devices after both Antinous and Eurymachus wandered off to attend to their own matters, decided to explore. With no one keeping an eye on her, she wandered into the main hall where the suitors were lounging around, drinking, and loudly boasting about their supposed feats of strength and charm. As soon as she entered, her wide eyes scanned the chaotic scene. She wasn’t nervous—if anything, she was curious about what the suitors were always up to when Antinous wasn’t around to glare them into submission.

One of the suitors, a burly man named Melanthius, noticed her first. “Well, look who it is! The little sister of our great leader.”

“Antinous left you all alone, huh?” another suitor chimed in, his tone teasing.

She placed her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest. “I can take care of myself! I’m not scared of you lot!” The suitors erupted in laughter at her boldness. “Not scared, huh? Alright, little one, let’s see what you’re made of!”

Before she knew it, one of them had lifted her off the ground and spun her around, eliciting a surprised squeal from her. Another suitor playfully ruffled her hair, while yet another poked at her sides to make her squirm.

“Hey! Put me down!” She protested, but her giggles betrayed her.

The suitors, amused by her small stature and feisty attitude, continued to roughhouse with her—lifting her onto their shoulders, tossing her lightly between them, and making silly faces to get her to laugh. They weren’t being mean, but they were definitely a bit too rowdy for someone as small as Y/N. One of them handed her a goblet of wine. “Here, kid, have a sip. It’ll make you braver!”

She sniffed it suspiciously and made a face. “That smells gross!”

“Atta girl,” another suitor said, laughing as he took the goblet back. Just as the playful chaos reached its peak, the doors to the hall burst open, and in strode Antinous and Eurymachus.

Antinous took one look at the scene—his sister perched precariously on Melanthius’s shoulders, her hair a mess, and the suitors all grinning like mischievous children—and his face darkened like a storm cloud.

“What,” he bellowed, his voice echoing through the hall, “is going on here…?”

The suitors immediately froze, Melanthius nearly dropping Y/N in his panic. Eurymachus, standing beside Antinous, stifled a laugh. “Looks like your little sister found herself some new babysitters.”

Antinous stormed over, snatching her off Melanthius’s shoulders and setting her on the ground. “Y/N, what are you doing here?!”

“I was bored!” she huffed, crossing her arms. “You and Eury left me alone, so I came here!”

Antinous glared at the suitors, who were all trying to look innocent. “If I see any of you roughhousing with her again, I’ll personally throw you out of this palace!”

The suitors nodded quickly, murmuring apologies. Eurymachus, still amused, leaned against a pillar and smirked. “You know, she seemed to be having a great time until you showed up.”

Antinous shot him a warning look before turning to her. He crouched down to her level, his tone softening. “You can’t just wander off like that, Y/N. These idiots don’t know how to handle a kid.”

She pouted but nodded. “Okay… I won’t do it again.”

“Good,” Antinous said, ruffling her hair. He stood up and shot one last glare at the suitors before scooping her up in his arms. “Let’s go. You’re staying where I can see you.”

As they left, Eurymachus lingered for a moment, shaking his head at the suitors. “You lot are lucky he didn’t kill you. Try not to traumatize the kid next time.” With that, he followed Antinous and Y/N out of the hall, leaving the suitors to exchange sheepish glances and mutter about how terrifying Antinous could be when it came to his sister.

——

Y/N squirmed furiously, her small hands tugging at the leather strap fastened securely around her waist. “Antinous! This is embarrassing! Let me go!”

Antinous, towering over her with an exasperated expression, held the other end of the leash firmly. “Not a chance, Y/N. You’re not running off into trouble again. I refuse to let you cause another headache.”

She stomped her foot, her face red with indignation. “I’m not a dog, Antinous!”

From the corner of the room, Eurymachus and Melanthius stood watching the scene unfold, both struggling—and failing—to contain their laughter. Eurymachus had one hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking, while Melanthius clutched his stomach, his booming laugh echoing through the room. “You’ve outdone yourself this time, Antinous,” Eurymachus said, finally gasping for air. “A leash? On your own sister? Gods, this is priceless.”

Antinous shot him a glare, his patience wearing thin. “She ran off into the main hall last time and nearly got herself killed by you lot roughhousing with her. I’m not taking any chances.”

Melanthius wiped a tear from his eye. “You do realize she’s going to hate you for this, right? She’s practically plotting her revenge already.”

Y/N, still tugging at the leash, turned her big, pleading eyes to Melanthius. “Help me! This is cruel and unusual punishment!”

But Melanthius just laughed harder. “Sorry, kid. I’m not getting in the middle of this one. You’re on your own.”

Eurymachus smirked and crossed his arms. “Honestly, Antinous, why stop at the leash? You should get her one of those bells so you can hear her coming.”

She groaned in frustration, sitting down on the floor with a dramatic huff. “I hate you all!”

Antinous rolled his eyes, ignoring the jeers from his companions. He crouched down to her level, his voice softening. “This is for your own good, sister. I wouldn’t have to do this if you didn’t keep wandering off into trouble.”

She pouted, crossing her arms. “I wasn’t wandering off. I was exploring!”

“Exploring,” Antinous repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Right. You can explore the courtyard. On a leash.”

Eurymachus doubled over in laughter again, and Melanthius had to lean against a wall for support. “I can’t—this is too good!” Eurymachus wheezed.

Antinous stood, dragging her to her feet as she whined and tried to wriggle free. “Laugh all you want, you two,” he said, his tone sharp. “But if she gets into trouble again, I’m making you responsible.”

Eurymachus waved a hand dismissively, still grinning. “Fine. But don’t expect me to take her on a leash. That’s all you, big brother.”

She shot a glare at Antinous, her cheeks puffed out in frustration. “Just wait until I tell Penelope about this. She’ll side with me!” Antinous sighed, already regretting his decision, while Eurymachus and Melanthius burst into another fit of laughter. It was going to be a long day.

@xo-cuteplosion-xo @simpformoonkight @lover-lyn

[velvet-apricots]

I was encouraged to write a drabble of this idea I had here

Summary: Lucanis can tell that Rook has a thing for Emmrich. Emmrich, however, seems to be very unaware of her attraction. That is until Spite speaks up.

It was happening again.

He had been talking to Emmrich again. For as bizarre as Lucanis found the concepts of raising the dead, the man was good to talk to. It was refreshing to have another to help with Spite, to have a calm firm hand that could get the demon to behave or stop pestering with questions that Lucanis could not answer, or could not answer in a satisfactory way.

That, and Spite just seemed to refuse to believe him out of… Well, spite.

“The moment I told him how soap was made, he insisted I take a bite.”

Emmrich tutted, leaning on his staff and directing his eyes to the demon as he hovered behind Lucanis’s shoulder. “Oh that would be most unpleasant, Spite. I assure you. The saponification process completely changes the composition of the animal fat. It tastes terrible.”

“How do you know?” Spite hissed.

Emmrich shrugged. “I have gotten soap in my mouth once or twice while bathing.”

And then, almost like clock work, Rook was suddenly there, slipping into the conversation. “What is saponification?” she asked, playing with her fingers as she gave Emmrich a little sweet smile, one she never gave to any of the rest of them. 

Rook liked hearing Emmrich talk. She liked seeing him move his hands. She liked looking at him. Her voice would get higher, and she would jut her hip out as she nervously fiddled with something, be it her fingers or her hair. It was very obvious that she was attracted to the older man, looking for any excuse to speak to him. It was like watching a love sick teenager.

And Emmrich seemed oblivious. Politefully so, but still very oblivious. Either that, or he was keeping up a professional decorum.

And so Lucanis now watched them: Emmrich explaining how saponification was the process of “cleaving esters into carboxylate salts and alcohols by the action of aqueous alkali”. Rook looking at Emmrich so intensely that she might as well be trying to undress him with her eyes. Staring at him from under her lashes with a little stupid grin, clearly not actually even hearing what he was saying.

Meirda, she is practically lusting over the man. How does Emmrich not see that? Lucanis thought, giving a humored smirk.

And then Spite spoke. He spoke and Lucanis wanted nothing more than to be struck down by the Maker himself.

“They should get a room. Together.”

Rook of course heard nothing. But Lucanis watched as Emmrich’s brows went up, watched as he turned to look at Spite, his ears and cheeks ever so slightly going pink as he gave a bewildered, open mouthed stare.

“I beg your pardon?” Emmrich asked.

Lucanis closed his eyes, cringing visibly from embarrassment. “Ignore him-”

“No! Do not ignore me! Take her to the bedroom! It’s what she wants!”

Emmrich took a scolding tone, face now going from pink to red.“Take her to-? Spite that is incredibly inappropriate.”

“What is Spite saying?” Rook asked, leaning back as both Lucanis and Emmrich turned sharply to her to say the same thing.

“Nothing.”

Emmrich ran his hand through his hair, looking very uncomfortable and now no longer able to look at Rook at all. “I think I will go make sure Manfred is not getting into any trouble” He mumbled, turning and quickly walking away. Rook followed him, switching from love sick to concerned leader.

Her concern would only make Emmrich feel even more uncomfortable.

“And I will throw myself into a cup of coffee, and possibly off the side of the courtyard.” Lucanis mumbled, turning in the opposite direction and quickly speed walking away. He would have to apologize-

“Do not apologize! I helped!” Spite protested, “He knows now!”

-Apologize to Emmrich.

[grimeshound]

UNDER YOUR SPELL.

word count: 4,329 (someone got a little carried away...)

pairing: in-ho x you.

summary: you haunt in-ho’s every thought, an obsession he can’t shake no matter how hard he tries—you have no idea the hold you have on him. when you get drunk for the first time, in-ho seizes the opportunity to show you just how deeply you’ve affected him.

cw: 18+, age-gap, dubcon (forced intoxication), mirror sex, first time, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, stomach bulge, semi-public sex, dirty talk, corruption, manipulation

a/n: i’ve had this plot simmering in my head over the past few days ever since i wrote my in-ho hcs and it was practically begging to be written … manipulative in-ho my beloved

---

Ever since he first laid eyes on you, In-ho thought you were the prettiest little angel to ever step foot in this hellhole.

You were nothing like the others. Kind, wide doe eyes, sweet smile that radiated innocence. He wondered how a pretty thing like you had ended up in a place like this. In-ho always did pride himself in his appreciation for the arts, all things with beauty. The moment he took notice of you, it didn’t take long for him to wonder what it would take to make you his.

You had joined a small group, after having met a kind man named Jung-bae who graciously let you in. Everyone shared their names, and that’s when you learned his. Oh Young-il. Except, of course, that wasn’t his real name. Just a guise, a character to play during the time he spent amongst the players. That didn’t matter, though, since you rarely used his name. 

“Sir,” you’d say. The times you did call his name, it’d be “Mister Young-il.”

The first time you spoke to him, you were nervous. It was hard not to be, something about his piercing gaze had a hold on you. Yet, you couldn’t help but admire him. The way you looked up at him, your voice so soft and deferential, made his pulse quicken. He’d do anything to protect you, and he did. Each time the games forced you apart, you’d come running to him the moment you returned to the main hall, your face lighting up with relief.

“I’m so happy you’re okay, sir.” You’d smile at him, and he’d smile back, gentle and reassuring.

You hadn’t realized it, but your attachment to him was carefully orchestrated, a product of all the high-risk situations In-ho would engineer to put you through. He’d swoop in at the perfect moment to save you, it made you trust him, made you depend on him more than anyone else. It also nurtured the little crush you were already dewasveloping, and he noticed. You couldn’t help it. He  kind to you, protective, and so devastatingly handsome.

Behind the scenes, he dug through your file. Orphaned from a young age, too naive to understand the world’s cruelties. Trusting the wrong people, you had fallen into debt, landing here. The more he learned, the more he was convinced—You needed someone to take care of you. Someone like him.

One night, In-ho just couldn’t take it anymore. After hours of keeping up his cold, calculated facade, he found himself teetering on the edge of his own sanity. The stress of orchestrating the games was always a burden he bore in silence. But lately? It wasn’t just the carnage and strategy that weighed on his mind. On top of all that, now there was you. Every stolen glance, every soft word you uttered, every moment in your presence had burrowed under his skin. You consumed him, invading every thought until there was no room for anything else.

He knew he was losing control.

When the last murmurs of conversation faded throughout the main hall and the players around him drifted into an uneasy sleep, he finally gave in to his impulses. He had a guard sneak him a bottle of soju, not caring how inappropriate or risky the request was. Rank had its privileges, and he wasn’t above abusing them.

Even in the dim light he spotted you, laid in your bed not too far from his own. All curled up and completely unaware of the monster disguised as your guardian angel watching over you. He swallowed thickly, his jaw clenching as he tried to steady his breathing. 

He listened to the sound of your breathing as a guide, the quiet rhythm of inhale and exhale filling his ears before finally pulling the bottle from its hiding place beneath his pillow. With a sharp twist, he uncapped it, the faint scent of alcohol wafting into the air around him. Sitting up in his bunk, he took a long, deliberate swig. The burn of the soju as it slid down his throat was a welcome distraction, albeit temporary. He exhaled, running a hand through his disheveled hair.  

The alcohol dulled the edges of his stress but sharpened something far more dangerous, far sicker. Desire. Thoughts of you came to surface before he could resist, vivid and unrelenting. He thought of your wide, trusting eyes looking up at him, the way your voice wavered when you spoke his name. He didn’t stop his thoughts when they turned more and more depraved. Your quiet utters of his name turning into obscene moans, innocent brushes of skin escalating into him fucking you like a madman into the crummy bed he sat beneath. The way you clung to him, so innocent, so naive, so completely unaware of just how sick his thoughts would turn because of you. 

He took another long swig, his grip tightening around the bottle as his frustration intensified. How could you do this to him without even realizing? Without even trying? It was maddening, the hold you had over him. And now, with the liquor loosening his usually taut held control, he found himself wondering how much longer he could resist. How much longer he could keep his hands to himself.

And then, as if summoned by his desires, your voice broke the silence.

“Sir?”

He turned to see you turned towards him, rubbing your eyes like a sleepy child. He softened instantly, smiling lazily as he called your name. “You’re awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You climbed up to his bed without hesitation, settling beside him. “What about you?” 

“Me neither,” he murmured. He thanked whatever god there was that you couldn’t read his mind, couldn’t take a peek into the sick fantasies that had clouded up his thoughts just moments ago. Even now, when sat face to face with you, they played in the background— like a channel he couldn’t turn off no matter how hard he’d press the remote. Only, he didn’t make much effort in stopping them. If anything, the fantasies only shot up with you now in front of him. 

Your attention was soon drawn to the green bottle in his hand. “Is that… soju?”

He chuckled at your amazement. “It is.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “I’ve never had any before.”

His heart skipped. You really were too good to be true, weren’t you? He feigned surprise. “Never?”

You shook your head. “No. But..” You hesitated for a bit. “I’d like to try, if that’s okay.”

How polite. How trusting. He handed the bottle to you, hiding his smirk beneath a kind, patient smile. “Of course. Go ahead.”

You took it with both hands, your fingers brushing his briefly. There was a moment of hesitation, a fleeting glance at him as though you were silently asking for reassurance. He gave you a small nod, his expression warm and encouraging. Uttey deceptive. The thought of getting you completely wasted, rendering you impossibly dumber and even more impressionable than you already are rang like music to his ears. You tilted your head back as you gulped down more than he expected. He didn’t stop you, though. Simply watching with quiet satisfaction as you drained a sizable amount.

The first sip had your nose scrunching up, the bitter taste of the alcohol overhwleming you. Instead of backing out, you pressed on, curiosity and his approving gaze egging you on. With each gulp, you felt your body tense slightly at the unaccustomed burn that slid down your throat.

In-ho watched you intently, his dark eyes locked on you as the bottle tipped higher and higher. You were drinking far more than he expected, but he made no effort to stop you. Instead, he leaned back slightly, his lips quirking into a faint smile. Quiet satisfaction flickered in his eyes as he watched your determination to please him override your inexperience.

When you finally lowered the bottle, your lips were shiny from the liquid, your cheeks already beginning to flush, something In-ho was quick to take notice of. Whether it be your inexperience, the quickness of which you downed the Soju or the fact that you haven’t really drank or ate much prior. The alcohol had hit you harder than you anticipated, working its way through your system with worrying speed. Your head tilted back slightly as you tried to regain focus, blinking up at him with worried, glassy eyes. 

“Sir,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “I feel…so funny.”

He stepped closer, his hand moving to steady you by your waist when your knees buckled slightly. “Funny how, sweetheart?” he humored you, the concern in his tone carefully crafted.

“Dizzy,” You clung to him instinctively, your hands gripping his arm like a lifeline as you specified. “I feel lightheaded, mister Young-il. M’scared.”

“Shh,” he murmured, pulling you closer against his chest. His hand slid to your back, rubbing soothing circles as he held you steady. “It’s okay. You’re just not used to it, s’all.”

Your forehead rested against his chest, your breath uneven as you tried to make sense of the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. He tilted his head slightly, looking down at you with something twisted in his gaze, though his voice remained tender and reassuring. “Poor baby,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. His hand stroked your hair, the sound of his words soothing you. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

You were too drunk to notice the dark glint in his eyes or the way his smile lingered just a little too long. Too naive to realize how tightly his grip held you, as though he’d never let go.

Young-il led you to the bathroom, steadying you with a firm grip as you clung to him for balance. Every touch, every reassuring glance he gave you was planned down to the last detail, feeding into the web he’d been weaving since the moment he first laid eyes on you. You were his perfect little pawn, and now, more than ever, he could see his plan falling into place. 

When he knocked on the bathroom door, you were already bracing yourself for the usual bargaining and desperate pleading that so often accompanied requests to use the facilities. But to your surprise, the guards let you both pass without hesitation, a testament to the sway your knight in shining armor seemed to hold.

He guided you inside, shutting the door behind you with a quiet click. Leading you to the sink, he turned on the faucet, letting the cool water rush out. “Here,” he said softly, his voice calm and soothing. “Let’s wash your face. It’ll help.”

You nodded, leaning over the sink and splashing the water onto your flushed cheeks. The cold sting sent a brief jolt through you, though it did little to clear the fog in your mind. When you blinked your eyes open and straightened, you nearly jumped at the sight of him standing right behind you, close enough that you could feel his presence like a weight against your back.

Your wide-eyed gaze flicked up to the mirror. He stood there, his expression as unreadable as ever, but the intensity in his eyes made your stomach twist. Despite yourself, you wiped your face with your sleeve and offered him a sheepish smile.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, stepping closer. His hand brushed your damp hair back from your face, the gesture tender in a way that made your breath hitch.

“Good,” you mumbled, though the truth was far from it. The alcohol swirled in your system, leaving you dizzier than before. But the way he touched you, the way he looked at you, it sent a warmth through your chest that was impossible to ignore.

“Yeah?” he hummed, his tone low and velvety, each syllable wrapping around you like a shackle. You hadn’t even noticed how close he’d gotten until now, his chest pressing lightly against your back.

Your breath hitched as something firm brushed against you from behind, and you let out a small, involuntary whimper. “Sir Young-il…?”

“In-ho,” he rasped, cutting you off. “My real name, it’s In-ho.” His voice had dropped even lower, and there was something raw and possessive in the way he said it. You blinked, confused, his real name rolling off your tongue before you could even think twice to question him.

“In-ho,” you repeated softly, as if testing the weight of it. “What’s going on?”

His lips curved into a faint smile, his hands settling firmly on your waist. “Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror. “I’ll take good care of you. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded too quickly, too eagerly, the alcohol and your long-brewing crush on him clouding your better judgment. “I trust you,” you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his grip tightening slightly as he trailed his fingers along your waist, his touch deliberate and possessive.

He leaned in, closing the already small gap between you two as his lips found yours in a kiss—the first one you’d ever shared. Admittedly, it wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined it to unfold. You pictured your first kiss with a high school crush, maybe some boy your age who’d take you out on an innocent date. But all those dreams faded the moment you met In-ho, and now, all dreams you had were consumed by him.

You pressed against him, letting him take control as his kiss deepened, hungry and intense, like a man starved for more. You followed his lead instinctively, trusting him—because you always knew, deep down, he knew what was best. So when he raised his fingers to your lips, you hesitated for only a moment before parting them, allowing him to slip two fingers inside. His dark eyes gleamed as you sucked obediently, your cheeks flushing deeper under his watchful gaze. A low, guttural sound escaped his throat, and his breathing grew heavier.

Pulling his fingers away, he wasted no time in hooking them into the waistband of your sweatpants, tugging them down in one hasty motion. His lips found the curve of your jaw, trailing kisses up to your ear as his right hand skimmed the sensitive skin of your neck.

You grabbed his wrist suddenly, your touch light and hesitant. “Wait, In-ho—” you murmured, your voice trembling with embarrassment. His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, his expression softening ever so slightly.

“I… I’ve never done anything like this before,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He wasn’t surprised; he had suspected as much. But hearing it from you, seeing the vulnerability in your gaze—only stoked the fire burning within him.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice deceptively gentle, though there was an unmistakable tension in his tone.

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip. “I trust you. Just… be gentle. Please.” 

He smiled at that, a flicker of something darker hidden beneath the curve of his lips. “Of course,” he murmured, his hands resuming their slow exploration. But in his mind, he knew the truth: restraint was never his strong suit. Especially when it came to you. 

And with you—so soft, so eager, so completely his, he doubted he could hold himself back for long.

His fingers, still slick with your saliva, trailed down to your entrance, brushing over it with deliberate precision. The touch made you jolt, a shiver running up your spine as you gasped. In-ho groaned low in his throat, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror. “Fucking dripping,” he mused, his voice a sinful rasp. Slowly, he slid a finger inside, the intrusion making your thighs instinctively part.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he pressed deeper, his touch firm but unhurried. This wasn’t the first time you’d felt something like this, but the last time had been your own doing—fumbling, desperate, and entirely unremarkable. That had been just days ago, tucked away in one of these very bathroom stalls, shamefully thinking of him. Now, with his hands where yours had been, the stark difference had you feeling light-headed. 

His fingers were thicker, rougher, impossibly skilled. The sensation left you trembling, your legs threatening to give out as he worked you open. His other arm snaked around your upper chest, holding you close, his grip firm yet possessive. The position bordered on a chokehold, but instead of fear, it only sent another wave of heat coursing through you.

Your breath hitched as a soft, broken “Ohmygod,” fell from your lips. He didn’t pause, didn’t falter. His finger curled just right, hitting a spot that made you see stars. Your hands gripped on In-ho’s forearm, knuckles white as you bit down hard on your lower lip, trying and failing to stifle your moans.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was like velvet, roughened by desire. He pressed a kiss into the crook of your neck. His other hand released its hold on your chest as it moved lower, settling on the curve of your ass. He squeezed firmly, eliciting a high-pitched mewl from you.

You nodded weakly, barely able to form words. “Uh-huh… feels so good, sir,”

That made him chuckle, a deep, dark sound that reverberated through your body. The honorific sent a thrill down his spine, his cock straining against the confines of his sweatpants.

“You’re ready,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he pulled back just enough to tug his waistband down. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes wide as you took him in, the sight was intimidating, your head reeling. 

"In-ho, I–I don’t think I can take that." Your voice faltered, a hint of shame creeping into your words. He laughed, a sound so familiar it sent a chill down your spine. It was the kind of hearty laugh you'd grown so used to hearing from him. But now, there was something different—something darker layered beneath it, like a cruel mockery. "Course you can, angel," he said, his tone smooth but laced with an unsettling edge. "I know you can. Let me take care of you."

“H-Here? Like this?” you asked, your voice small and unsure, referring to the state he had you in—bent over the sink and in front of the mirror. utterly at his mercy.

He leaned in, his hand gripping your chin and forcing your gaze back at your reflection. “Right here,” he confirmed, his voice a low growl. Want you to watch yourself while I’m fucking you open.”

The vulgarity of his words sent a shiver through you, your body instinctively arching for him. You nodded, too dazed and drunk to do anything else, and he didn’t waste another second.

He slid inside slowly, the stretch making you cry out and grip the sink tighter. The initial sting was sharp, but it quickly gave way to something deeper, something so intense it left you gasping. Your legs wobbled beneath you, and you leaned harder against the sink for support.

“In-ho… In-ho,” you whimpered, his name falling from your lips like a chant. “Sir… I— I feel you in my stomach.”

The confession had him groaning, a sound so guttural it made your knees weak. “Yeah? Fuck, baby.” He babbled as he moved closer, his body pressing against yours as his hand trailed down with deliberate slowness. When his palm flattened against your stomach, his fingers brushing over the faint outline of him inside you, your breath hitched. 

“Feel that?” he murmured, his composure slipping as he began to move. His hips snapped against yours, each thrust deliberate and punishing. You nodded frantically, a whimper escaping as he pressed down, sending a shockwave through your body. “In-ho, nngh!—“ 

You were completely out of it, your thoughts a tangled haze, your body slack and pliant in his hands. The alcohol coursing through your veins had stripped away every layer of hesitation, leaving you wide open to his manipulations. And In-ho, oh, he reveled in it. The way your voice slurred when you called his name, the way your movements were unsteady, dependent on him for every step and touch—it all fueled his sick delight. You were better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

As he pulled you closer, pressing into you from behind, your gaze flicked to the bathroom door, a flicker of worry breaking through your drunken stupor. “In-ho…” you mewled, voice soft as you felt your body jerk with each rough thrust he made.. “What if–ah!—someone walks in?”

He paused, his hands resting possessively on your hips, a smile ghosting across his lips. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, his voice low and soothing, though there was an unmistakable edge of amusement in his tone. “The guards won’t come.” His confidence sent a shiver through you, but you weren’t entirely convinced. “But… but what if another player—”

“No one’s going to interrupt us,” he said firmly, his dark eyes boring into yours before you could finish your sentence. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror. “You’re with me. They wouldn’t dare.”

Something about the absolute certainty, the power in his voice—had your anxiety ebbing away, replaced by a strange sense of safety. You nodded slowly, leaning into his touch, your inhibitions melting once again under his spell.

“You trust me, don’t you, sweetheart?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Mmhm,” You squeaked out through laboured breaths. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, his hands sliding down to grip your waist, pulling you back against him. He watched your reflection as his fingers dug into your soft flesh, relishing the way you gasped and arched into his touch.

Your head lolled slightly, your body swaying under his hold. “Mmmh…I feel so dizzy,” you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

In-ho chuckled darkly, his hands moving to steady you. “That’s just the soju, sweetheart,” he said, though he didn’t bother hiding the smirk on his face. “You’re doing so well for me.”

He loved seeing you like this. Drunk, vulnerable, completely at his mercy. Every soft whimper, every stumble, every little movement that showed how completely you relied on him only fueled his desire. You were his, whether you realized it or not.

As his fingers grazed your skin, he couldn’t resist pushing you further, testing your reactions as he pushed your buttons. “You know,” he murmured, his lips ghosting along the curve of your neck, “Y’look so pretty like this. All fucked out and needy. Just for me.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, pressed against him. “Y-you think so?”

“I know so,” he replied, his voice a velvety purr. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming. “Just look at yourself, baby. See how perfect you are for me?”

Your hazy eyes flicked to the mirror, taking in the sight of the two of you. His dark, piercing gaze met yours, his expression raw and predatory. The way he looked at you—it was almost too much. Your cheeks burned, and you averted your eyes, biting your lip.

He wasn’t having that. His hand left your waist, fingers gently gripping your chin and turning your face back toward the mirror. “No,” he said firmly. “I want you to watch. Watch yourself while I take care of you.”

The authority in his voice sent a thrill through you, your body trembling as you nodded weakly. “O-okay—ah, fuck!”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

As his hands roamed lower, teasing and exploring, you couldn’t help the soft, breathless moans that spilled from your lips. Every touch, every word, every look from him pulled you deeper into the fog of your drunken desire, leaving you utterly helpless in his grasp.

And In-ho? He wouldn’t have it any other way.

The room filled with the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin, your muffled cries, and his filthy murmurs. “Thaat’s it, there’s my pretty girl.” His hand tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, his lips brushing against your ear. “Fucking take it. Just like that.”

Every thrust sent you higher, the alcohol in your system amplifying every sensation, every nerve alight with pleasure. Your mind was fogged, the world around you turning into nothing but a senseless blur. And yet, you felt every little sensation In-ho fed you, each rough snap of his hips driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You felt your climax building, overwhelming and unstoppable. Your eyes fluttered shut, ready to let go—but his hand suddenly cupped your cheek, a sharp slap bringing you back.

“I told you,” he growled, his voice authoritative. “None of that. You keep your eyes on me when I fill you up. Understand?”

You nodded frantically, gasping as you forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze once again through the mirror—the sight was enough to send you over the edge. Your release hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as you cried out his name.

The sight of you coming undone beneath him was his undoing. With a few more erratic thrusts, he followed, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside you. A deep groan tore from his chest, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he rode out his high.

The room fell into silence, save for the sound of your labored breathing. In-ho steadied you, his hands gentle now as he helped you stand. He brushed your hair back, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

“If we get out of here alive…” A sheepish smile spread across your face, “Let’s drink again sometime?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “When we get out,” he corrected, his tone laced with quiet determination. He kissed you once more, sealing the promise. And he meant it. If it meant keeping you by his side, he’d kill every last player in the game with his bare hands.

[thisisjustfanfic]

At First Sight

-Sylus-

{SFW Drabble of the first time Sylus sees MC (reader) in this life.}

In this new world. This new age. A completely different planet and a completely different time. In a new body and a new life but burdened with the memory of what had been. Saddled with the imagination of what could have been.

How did it all fit? How did the pieces come together after something was shattered? Picking up pieces of something already lost and holding them close, letting the shards imbed into his skin. It was better than nothing. It was something.

He was fiend in this life too. He’d make sure of it. Carving out a place for himself with enough room to spare. Let the ghost of you exist beside him in the kingdom he created. A beautiful monster.

In this life, he’d surround himself with finery and luxury. Make a life so lavish that even his den of gold paled in comparison. It all paled though, didn’t it? Nothing but hollow, ash covered filler.

His chest ached. His mind rattling with and aether core that longed for something almost as much as the rest of him did. It vibrated in his skull, sending shockwaves through his skeleton and into the core of him. Annoying, most of the time.

This new body was different but the same, missing the parts of him that he used to wish were gone. The horns. The claws. The ebony scales and hooked tail. Parts of him that made it impossible to exist among other people without fear.

It astounded him how easily he could walk among the crowds. Disappear as one of a thousand faces. This new life. This new age. This new body. It all lacked the sharp edges and peculiarities that had made his last life. The majority of people were sheep, milling about unaware of when a wolf had invaded the flock. Content with their sheltered protection of their hunter’s and their eden city of Linkon.

He didn’t care for Linkon. Nothing there to entice him. It wasn’t his territory, and he felt on edge whenever he was there. Even without the horns, there was always the feeling that someone would recognize him. See him for what he used to be– for what he was.

A clattering explosion shook the street barely a block away. A Wanderer’s feral screech tearing into the twilight sky. Citizens screamed and began to run, picking up their children and their belongings to flee the scene.

Only there were a few who ran towards it. Their heavy boots and uniforms appeared from amongst the crowd. Like a handful of fish swimming against the flow of their school, shimmery as their scales bounced off the light– giving them away to predators.

Sylus sighed heavily, and turned. He lowered his phone to his side and sat for a moment in his irritation. He had business nearby, and now what? A detour? What an annoyance.

“Sir! Please evacuate the area!” A sharp voice called to him. A hunter with a concerned expression who had stopped in front of him. He rolled his eyes and began to follow the crowd of escaping sheep.

“Tara! Check the alley! Make sure no one’s hiding!” A different voice called, nearly drowned out by hunter gunfire and the deafening roar of the wanderer.

Sylus thought he’d been hit by a stray bullet for a moment. He continued walking, keeping up the appearances with hurried footsteps but unable to stop himself from looking over his shoulder.

A spark of irritation at his body’s unexpected response was swallowed up with the all encompassing feeling of shock. A lightning bolt to his spine that startled him enough he almost stumbled. He ducked into an alley, far enough away from the battle to not be noticed or found.

His mind hadn’t caught up yet, but his body was already moving. Winding through the back alleys behind the pretty illuminated buildings of Linkon to get back. Using his evol he scaled up to one of the lower rooftops, now perched like a gargoyle at its edge and looking down at the chaos below.

A group of Wanderer’s a headache being this deep into the city, and especially in a shopping district like this one. The half a dozen hunters that were now grappling with the beast must have been idly about, shopping for themselves.

He found you like one finds the sun in the clear blue sky. Drawn to your light but also blinded by it.

You were here. You existed in this life.

Sylus had his phone out and took a picture. Then another. Then a dozen or so more as you glided across the battlefield. Fire burning in your eyes that made his stomach twist. Any doubt that could have been hatched on your identity burned away under the heat in your eyes.

Fierce. A fighter to your marrow but beautiful. Like the poison inside the lovely nightshade, hidden beneath the soft petals.

It took a laughable lack of effort to find out your information. Your name– the same, just like his was. Your apartment address and number. He could see your socials and with a little more effort, your messages. He’d filter through them later– just to check.

He had to know if you remembered. Did you? Did you wake up in this foreign place reaching out for him like he had for you? Were you searching for him?

God, so much time wasted. He’d assumed that this rebirth had been his punishment, and that you were left behind. Only a memory to torment him. If he’d known…God, if he’d known you were here….

He had to be sure though, that you remembered him. That everything you had had before was still there. That you’d look at him like you did before…

Sylus wasn’t sure what to do if you didn’t. Everything felt off-kilter now. Everything kicked out of place because he’d been living with your ghost for so long, the need to have you back was as real as hunger. Starving for that soft, human love you’d taught to him. Could he survive it if your eyes turned against him? If they looked at him and saw…nothing?

[uceyliyahh]

BABY BOY

Summary: Chantel was backstage watching her best friend Jey cut his promo for his upcoming match against Gunther for the World Heavyweight Championship but things between the two get hectic causing him to earn a busted lip, but things between you two get heavy.

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (M receiving), praises, daddy kink, mama, ma, baby girl, fingering, busted lip, two best friends that are in denial about their feelings for each other, fluff at the end :)

word count: 3,945

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

this will be my first time doing a one-shot so I hope y'all enjoy it, this will be in first person also 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @ctinadiva @celesteheartsjey @duhitzkay380 @luuvprincess

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic

@hunnidmilly @celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @luvrsluxe @4milly @xbriexx @trippinsorrows @yyaktayak @yana3sworld @theusotwinzcom

CHANTEL

As I sat in Jey's locker room, scrolling through my Twitter feed, I was overwhelmed by the wave of negativity directed at my best friend. It was truly nauseating to witness all the hate he was receiving; it just didn't add up. Yet, I understood that he was far from indifferent about it. True to his nature, Jey maintained a laid-back attitude, even in the face of such adversity.

I could tell he was completely in the zone tonight, engaging with his fans about his upcoming match against Gunther. Honestly, I wasn't a fan of his attitude; he came off as overly cocky. As I heard a knock at the door, I stood up from the couch and made my way over to see who it was.

As I swung the door open, there he stood—imposing and impressive. Truly, his genetics were a blessing, as he looked fantastic for the evening. His mullet, a striking red and flowing long, was perfectly faded on both sides. He sported a Dallas Yeet Stars shirt, paired with black sweats that playfully revealed his pink boxers beneath. Accentuating his look were a Cuban silver chain, stylish piercings, vibrant pink glasses, and classic Air Force Ones.

His presence was nothing short of captivating, standing at an impressive 6’2”, a striking contrast to my own 5’2” stature. The way he flashed his dazzling smile, adorned with grills, only added to his allure.

“You ready to go mamas?” he asked while holding his hand out.

As I intertwined my small hands with his larger ones, I nodded in agreement, and together we strolled toward the gorilla. However, he needed to perform his special entrance, so he guided me to a spot where I could enjoy watching him on the screen instead.

“How are you feeling about this?” I asked him.

“I’m feeling pretty confident about it, I’m ready to be a world heavyweight champion speak my mind you know,” I nodded my head in agreement admiring his pretty features of his face.

Since the moment I met Jey at the gym where I used to work out, I’ve been smitten. Our conversations flowed effortlessly, and we quickly became close, enjoying exciting dates and spending time at each other’s places. With every shared experience, my feelings for him deepened, yet he remained unaware of the intensity of my emotions.

At least that’s what I thought.

We finally reached the Gorilla position, where he gently kissed my forehead before heading out to make his entrance, kicking off the show. We shared a warm hug, and as I stepped inside, I greeted Triple H and the rest of the team.

I settled into the chair, captivated by the television show as I listened to the crowd erupt in cheers for him. This man radiated an incredible presence, and witnessing the adoration from his fans filled me with joy. It was truly uplifting to see someone so deserving of love and appreciation.

He descended the steps, radiating like a star, captivating everyone around him. As he made his way down, he engaged with a little boy, both of them joyfully waving their hands in the air. The crowd behind him mirrored their excitement, and in a delightful moment, the little boy reached out for a high five, which Jey happily returned as he continued his descent.

I watched as Gunther entered the Gorilla position, the World Heavyweight Championship draped over his shoulders. He focused intently on Jey, who was on the screen engaging with Michael Cole, before making his way into the ring.

He kept engaging with the audience, allowing his music to play on before finally seizing the mic to address them. Michael Cole had me in stitches with his energetic antics, bouncing around the stage with such enthusiasm.

As Jey prepared to address the audience, the atmosphere electrified with the crowd erupting into a chant of "yeet" that echoed throughout the arena, drowning out his voice before he even had a chance to begin.

He began to speak, “I said” he continues on, “Main Event Jey Uso is now in yo’ cityyyy,” he shouted while the crowd was cheering for him.

“Y’all already know what I’m about say tho right? At Saturday’s Night Main Event, imma beat Gunther and become the new—“ that’s when Gunther music began to hit cutting Jey off from his speech.

I noticed him removing his pink yeet glasses, a hint of nostalgia in his expression as he awaited Gunther's arrival. As I mentioned earlier, his cocky demeanor didn't sit well with me, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes at him while glancing at the screen.

The audience erupted in boos as he emerged from the Gorilla position. I found myself silently joining in the disapproval. Gunther ascended the steel steps, making his way into the ring, all while Jey shot him a fierce glare as he clutched the microphone.

His music cuts as the crowd went silent before he could speak into the mic, “what I saw back there it just made me realize that you aren’t on my level Jey,”

“you come out here yeeting with the crowd forgetting about our conversation the other day like it didn’t mean anything to you,” Gunther said.

“you sit right in front of me here, and you look me in the eye and you said, every morning when you wake up, you in the mirror and you bet on yourself,”

I was uneasy about how this situation was unfolding, especially with Jey staring at him as if he were out of his mind, while the crowd reacted with disbelief.

“And you know what? The thing is , I really believed you I was actually looking forward to Saturday Night Main Event to get in the ring and square with main event Jey Uso.”

The audience erupted in cheers of "yeet" as Jey stood there, gazing intently into his eyes. He continued to speak passionately, his words flowing endlessly, until he unexpectedly mentioned Jimmy, momentarily catching Jey off guard.

“Don’t speak on my brother Jimmy—“

“Or what? I’m just saying look around you Jey, you are like a mascot to this crowd,” he said as the crowd began booing him.

“You know what you’re right Uce, I am a mascot aight? You right yet again, but here’s the thing though this right here, this is my team,” Jey said.

“This right here is my squad, cuz they ride with me, slide with me and on Saturday they gonna be with me when I beat you for the world heavyweight championship uce,” The crowd was cheering for him meanwhile I was in the Gorilla listening to him being confident.

That’s what I loved about him he was so confident in what he was saying and I had faith in him as his best friend maybe even more at that until Gunther brought up my name in the conversation.

“Okay then what about Chantel then? Is she gonna ride with you, slide with you?” He said.

“Aye, don’t bring her up in all of this, this is between you and I, me and you. I told you i respected you uce,” Jey took a slight pause, “but Gunther, you gonna respect me too, you’re gonna put some respect on my name,”

I seen that Jey had slight smirk in his face, “Cuz there’s only one of us standing in this ring right now that main evented Wrestlemania and it ain’t you,” that’s when he dropped the mic mean mugging and Gunther threw his title at him at they both began to go at it with each other.

The audience erupted in cheers of "yeet" as Jey stood there, gazing intently into his eyes. He continued to speak passionately, his words flowing endlessly, until he unexpectedly mentioned Jimmy, momentarily catching Jey off guard.

As Gunther attempted to retaliate, Jey's strength and aggression overwhelmed him, forcing him against the turnbuckle where he took a brutal beating, all while I cheered enthusiastically from the gorilla position.

Gunther attempted to retaliate by shoving him aside, but Jey swiftly countered with a super kick to his face as he rolled out of the ring, leaving his championship belt behind.

That’s where I could see blood coming from his lip that fool done busted my bestie’s lip Jey grabbed his title shouting “c’mon!” “C’mon!” As Gunther was telling him to not touch his title.

Once the commercial break began, I rose from my seat and noticed Gunther storming backstage, clearly furious. My mind, however, was preoccupied with concern for Jey and his injured lip.

When I noticed him walking in with a bleeding lip, my immediate instinct was to rush over, filled with concern for his well-being.

“I’m okay mama, I promise,” Jey said softly.

“You’re not okay, c’mon so I can get you cleaned up “ I said as I took him to the medical room.

As I prepared to tend to his injured lip in the medical room, I could feel his discomfort. He always dreaded this part of the process. Sitting on the medical bed, he watched my every move with a mix of apprehension and resignation.

I approached him, maneuvering between his legs with everything I required. Gently, I took his hand away from his lip, noticing the blood still trickling. As I prepared to treat the wound, I poured hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball and pressed it firmly against the injury, eliciting a sharp hiss from him.

"I understand that this is painful, and I truly empathize with you. However, you need to trust me on this, Jey. I have to keep applying pressure to your lip, so please bear with me."

As I tended to his wound, I barely noticed his gaze fixed on me. It felt as if he had something on his mind, a message he longed to convey, yet he struggled to find the right words.

I looked up at him as he kept his eyes fixed on me, causing me to shy away from his gaze while I tended to the cut on his lip.

I carefully tended to his wound, applying cream to promote healing for the moment. As I organized the first aid kit, I sensed his gaze fixed on me, a silent acknowledgment of the care I was providing.

“Why did you avoid my gaze, Chanti?” He asked as I heard his footsteps coming towards my way while my back was turned against him.

I chose not to reply, fully aware of how this conversation would unfold. I wasn't ready to confront my feelings for him in such a way. "I'm not sure what you mean, Jey," I said, as I carefully returned the first aid kit to the glass cabinet and shut the door.

His body pressed against mine, effortlessly spinning me around, his towering 6'2" frame looming over me and making me feel diminutive. We remained in silence, the air thick with unspoken words between us.

I found myself captivated by his deep brown eyes, taking in the warmth of his caramel skin and the striking tribal tattoos that adorned him perfectly. The thought that this incredible man could be mine was driving me wild with desire.

As his fingers intertwined with mine, he pressed a soft kiss to my palm, drawing me nearer to his warmth. This was a moment I had longed for but never found the courage to voice. It was as if he understood my unspoken desires all along, sensing my feelings without a single word exchanged.

As we gazed deeply into each other's eyes, a silent search unfolded between us. Suddenly, he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear as he pressed a gentle kiss on my cheek. In that intimate moment, he whispered words that would send my heart racing. “Chanti, you’re terrible at concealing your emotions, you realize that?”

I pretended to be taken aback by his words, stammering, “W-what do you mean?” I could hear him chuckle softly, the sound slipping from his lips.

“Mama, c’mon. I’m not dumb I know you want something so just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” I couldn't shake the thought that if I allowed this to persist, our friendship would be irreparably damaged.

Looking deeply into his eyes—fuck it I stood on my tippy toes placing a peck on his lips while backing away from him to see how he would react to my sudden kiss.

He needed a moment to absorb everything before responding to my kiss, which prompted me to babble nervously, “I’m sorry, oh my gosh, I’m really sorry. I-I didn’t mean to—,” but before I could finish, he pressed his lips against mine, and instinctively, I found myself wrapping my arms around his neck.

We found ourselves lost in a fervent kiss, something we had both longed for but never dared to mention. Jey lifted me effortlessly by my thighs, carrying me to the medical bed where he gently laid me down, positioning himself between my legs, his lips still pressed against mine.

I could feel him rubbing his hardened member against my damp underwear, and I could taste the blood escaping from his lips, preserving its wonderful flavor.

His tongue danced within my mouth before trailing down to my neck, where he began to suck gently, reminiscent of a ravenous vampire savoring its meal. The sensation made me let out a soft moan right into his ear.

Tugging on his mullet.

I wanted more and so did he.

I threw back my head in delight as I moaned his name softly for only him to hear, feeling his fingers slithering down my damp panties and pressing them on the fabric of my underwear.

Even though he didn't touch me, I could feel my smooth folds growing wet for him. Jey pushed two fingers inside my wet cunt and pumped them in and out of me after he slid my panties to the side to observe how wet I was for him.

I gripped his shoulders and moaned his name while his fingers were entering my warm, moist cunt, kissing my cheek and neck tenderly and sweetly.

Jey kissed my full lips and muttered, "You have no idea how much I wanted to do this with you, Chanti."

“Me too..I was worried it will ruin our friendship,” I whispered back.

Jey shook his head as he spoke, “No way, mamas. This will only strengthen our friendship, but I want to be more than just your best friend, Chanti. I want to be your man, if you’ll allow me.” Deep down, I longed for him to be my man. Our adventures together, especially during our travels, had only deepened my feelings for him.

He kept pushing his fingers in and out of me, making me tremble beneath his touch, but I didn't answer him as I put my lips on his and our lips moved in unison.

Our lips remained together as he took down my shorts and underwear, and the way his fingers glided inside of me drove me crazy until he pulled them out, leaving me to whine from the emptiness.

As we moved apart, I saw him pull down his sweatpants, including his pink boxers, and my eyes widened as I saw his dick pop up and strike his stomach. It was big, meaty, and long, and I wasn't sure if it would fit me.

“but c’mere and use them pretty lips,” he said as I obeyed his request getting down on my knees knowing that the floor was cold as hell but I didn’t care.

I placed my hair in a ponytail making sure that it was secured properly while grabbing his shaft stroking it up and down seeing pre-cum dripping from the peephole, I gazed up at him seeing him looking down at me—Jesus the way he was staring me down was insane.

As he flung his head back, I started to move my lips up and down toward the end of his hardened dick, giving it nothing but beautiful kisses. I then swirled my tongue around his mushroom tip, tasting the saltiness of his pre-cum as it came out and dripped all over him.

“Fuck,” Jey moaned.

He was attempting to fight the impulse to grasp my ponytail and face fuck me, but he just let me take charge of the situation as I bobbled my head on his dick and stroked it up and down while listening to his delicious moans exiting his lips.

There was a lot of salvia surrounding his dick, which made it easier for me to stroke him or suck him off, but I still bobbled my head up and down on his shaft, allowing his dick to hit me in the back of my throat, causing me to gag on it.

Jey wrapped his hand around my ponytail and began moving his hips pushing his dick down my throat again causing me to gag.

“Yeah, keep gagging on that shit,”

“Relax yo’ throat for me mama,” I did what he said relaxing my throat and let him face fuck me.

I kept circling my tongue around his attractive tip, tasting all of the saltiness from it, and inhaling through my nose while taking his length within my throat.

His moans were like music to my ears, “mhm…keep goin, keep goin’ for me mamas,” he moaned while speeding up his pace inside of my mouth.

I gripped his thighs, feeling that popping sound come in and out of my mouth. At this point, my lips were swallowing him whole, getting crimson and forcing me to look up at him.

I could feel him growing inside of my mouth while my tongue was glides through his shaft while I was playing with his balls, squeezing a bit that’s when he pulled out of my mouth. “C’mere,”

He lifted me off my knees, grabbing me up by the thighs and carrying me over to one of the chairs in the room where I was now straddle on his lap. I stood up, watching him stroking his mushroom tip over my slippery moist folds before I could sink down onto him.

Once I did a groan escape from both of our lips as I began bouncing up and down on his dick Jey held onto my ass cheeks firmly guiding my movements.

“Oh, fuck, Jey,” I moaned.

Jey was kissing me all over my chest, neck, and lips as I continued to bounce on his dick like no other. All you could hear was flesh smacking against one other reverberating around the room, hoping no one could hear us.

He drew me closer to his body, muttering nothing but wicked things in my ear, which just made me wetter for him. "You such a good girl for me baby girl, taking all of me in," he cooed at me.

“Yeah? Daddy?” I responded back to him.

"Yeah, make daddy nut baby," As I continued to bounce on his lap, I felt him whacking my left ass cheeks, and I moaned at the sensation; his dick was caressing my cervix so gently that I could see stars at this point.

Digging his claws into my hips, "fuckk it's so good baby," my eyes were rolling in the back of my head as I bent towards his face, planting my lips on his, and we began a vicious passionate exchange as both of our tongues competed for control.

I was tossing my ass in circles on his dick, which was hitting my g-spot so wonderfully as my wet cunt was saturating his dick so well that he could simply pump in and out of me so easy. "This pussy feels so good baby girl," he whispered between the kiss.

"Tell daddy that you love him and only him," he said, letting me feel every inch of him hammering hard into my sticky walls, crying out for him and only him.

When I didn’t respond to his question he whacked me in the ass cheek causing me to whine, “I love you! Only you Joshua!” I cried out.

Jey enjoyed watching me crumble below as both of our lips swelled from the intensity of our make-out session. I tugged on his bottom lip before returning for the kiss, pulling on his mullet and craving for more of him, lapping my tongue inside of his mouth while he did the same.

I could feel a knot form in my stomach, indicating that I was ready to come. Jey threw his muscular arms around my waist and began thrusting his hips more and deeper inside of me, while I dug my nails into his shoulders, which he didn't seem to mind at all.

At this point, I was overwhelmed and emotional, tears welling up in my eyes as I buried my face into his neck as he fucked me senselessly. The more he struck my g-spot, the closer I was to my climax.

“F-fuckk, Jey. I’m finna cum,” I whisper softly in his ear.

“Yeah? C’mon make a mess on me Ma, give it to me,” the way he was talking me through was driving me towards the oblivion.

Jey kept talking to me through it while he pummeled my insides saying sweet whispers in my ear that were vulgar and nasty to point where I was about to explode on him. “I-it’s coming! Oh fuck it’s coming!” I warned him.

I held onto him tightly as he was beating my shit in causing me to let out a loud moan escaping my lips screaming his whole government name while doing so, I could feel my milky cream coating his dick up hearing nothing but sticky sounds coming from it.

My body began trembling and shake underneath him but that didn’t stop him from getting his nut he was determined to get his right after mine.

I could feel his movements getting sloppier and sloppier each second losing himself under me causing him to grip onto my ass while bucking his hips deeper into me, “fuck I’m finna nut,” I could feel his dick twitching inside of me when he had said that, “where you want it at mama?” Jey grunted.

“I want you to nut in me Jey, fucking nut all up in yo’ pussy,” I mewled out breathlessly.

“My pussy? This all mine baby?” I nodded my head.

He didn’t waste no time pumping his dick in and out of my now sensitive walls while he bucked his hips upward feeling his warm seeds emptying out inside of me like a volcano eruption shooting my inner walls up so good leaving him speechless.

Jey had pulled out from me as me and him stayed together in that position trying to contain our breathing while he began running his fingers down my back to soothe me placing a kiss on my forehead.

I found myself half-naked on his lap, resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat gradually slowing. As I looked up at him, I noticed he was gazing back at me, and a playful smile spread across my face.

“You so pretty mamas like for real though,” Jey said.

“Thank you, you’re handsome yourself sir can’t believe that you’re mine now,” I said as he chuckled at me.

“Baby, I’ve been yours since the beginning but c’mon so that we can get dressed before anyone comes around,” I nodded my head as me and him began putting back our clothes on.

- fin 🩵

A/n: I hope yall enjoy this one-shot lmk in the comments below.

STAY UCEY.

[skippingstonez]

Can I request a sky or wild x reader where reader has a crush on them and Link is unaware. And the reader has a tendency to draw him, and somehow he finds the sketchbook and goes through it to see the numerous drawings of him. But he didn't know the reader even drew in the first place, I think it would be really cute

*starts writing this, intending to use Wild*

Sky: *over dramatically breaking down my door* Change it

Me: But-

Sky: *raising the master sword menacingly* Change. It.

Me: Yes sir!

A Sketchy Confession

(Sky x Reader)

Warnings: None, but Sky insisted it gets a little steamy at the end and who was I to tell him no <3

You bit your lip, chewing on it unconsciously. The pencil in your hand marking the paper repeatedly in an attempt to capture the landscape ahead of you. You huffed, erasing some of the lines before trying again. The tiny body of water rippled, disturbed by a leaf that had fallen from the tree above you from the warm summer air. You debated whether or not to add the newest addition. Having almost completed the drawing you had set out to do well over an hour ago. 

Soft footsteps approached, breaking your concentration in a need to know who had finally found you. 

Sky walked past the small fence of Wild’s house to where you were sat by the little pond beyond the stable. He was just wearing his white shirt and pants. The usual green tunic and chainmail likely left back inside the house. The blue detailing by his collar pulled out the blue of his eyes as they spotted you.

You closed the small notebook resting on your knees as he sat down beside you. Forcing your face to remain calm and relaxed as his knee bumped against yours.

“Nice hiding spot.” He chuckled, “I thought you'd gone with some of the others to check out the shops.”

“And give up the opportunity for some peace and quiet? No thanks, think I'll keep hiding here for a bit.”

Sky laughed, leaning on your shoulder. “Mind if I join you? Legend’s trying to help Wild organize his stuff and I'm not about to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Not at all. But if someone finds us I'm offering you as a sacrifice to their shenanigans."

Sky clutched his chest, dramatically gasping as if he was mortally wounded. “Ugh fiiiiiine, I guess that's fair.” He pulled out a small knife from his pocket and a block of wood a size bigger than his hand.

“What have you been up to out here anyway?” 

“Just keeping busy,” you answered, pushing the notebook to the side nervously. The only one in the chain that had seen the inside of it was Legend due to an unfortunate mix up which he still hung over your head. 

Wars, being really big on keeping notes and journaling, had given all of you little notebooks as a way to encourage you to do the same. Most of the chain quickly forgot about it in favor of their own preferred hobbies. Legend and Wild seemed to be the only others to use it frequently enough for you to notice which led to you and the grumpy Vet getting them mixed up one day. 

Journaling had never been your thing. Words were tricky enough in normal conversation let alone trying to express the thoughts running through your head at any given moment. Still, you felt bad not using the small gift which is how it ended up as a sketchbook rather than a journal. 

Drawing had kept you sane, especially so on the hard days. Sketching out the thoughts and feelings that overtook your mind. Unfortunately, after using it for sometime, it had seemed that there was a particular someone filling up most of those thoughts. So much so that the notebook was now full of sketches and quick doodles of the knight sat directly beside you.

Something which, after a rather charged chat with Legend about, you refused to let Sky, or anyone else in the chain know about. You'd rather get stabbed by a Lizalfos than die of embarrassment.

“What are you making?” You asked, redirecting the conversation away from the item tightly in your hand.

“Oh this?” He held up the piece of wood. “Not quite sure…any requests?”

You thought for a moment before answering. “Have you done that flying bug thing in your bag?”

“Oh you mean my beetle? That's a great idea! I'm gonna go grab it for reference. If I'm not back in 5 minutes just know,” He paused, throwing an arm around your shoulder. He pulled you close to him and you just knew your face was likely turning red. “It's probably Legend’s fault.”

You snorted, shoving him off as he got to his feet and made back towards the house. He turned back, shouting over his shoulder. “Wish me luck” He said with a small salute. You rolled your eyes but saluted back. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered around at the thought of spending time with him.

Alone.

You smacked your face lightly. You needed to get a grip on yourself before he came back. You grabbed the notebook, stuffing it deep down into the depths of your bag. 

__________

“Make sure you've got everything,” TIme’s voice rang out. “Once (Y/N) and Wars get back we’ll head out.”

Sky finished stuffing the last of his things back into his bag, clasping his sailcloth over his shoulders. He gave his surroundings a final scan, double checking that there wasn’t anything left behind by mistake. 

He got to his feet, stretching his arms over his head with a quick huff.

“Sky! Let's get going!” 

“Coming!” He strolled over to where Legend and Four were headed towards. A quip about Legend’s new hair color already poised on his lips. 

Something on the ground caught his eye, making him paused to take a closer look. It was a book. It's dark brown cover having nearly blended in with the bark of the tree.

He picked it up. The lack of title or name making it near impossible to distinguish whose it could be. 

“Sky come on!”

“Coming!”

He mused over the small book as they walked. Flipping through the dozens of drawings that covered its pages. 

The detail work was exquisite. Each line carefully crafted to enhance every feature within the confines of the picture. Sky didn't know much in the way of art, but the little he knew helped him understand just how much work had been poured into each one.

And there were a lot.

“Here I thought Wars was the narcissistic one.”

Sky nearly dropped the book as Hyrule appeared next to him.

“Clouds above Rule! You startled me.”

“Do I wanna know why you have a book full of drawings of yourself?”

Sky rolled his eyes, snapping it shut. “It's not mine. Don't suppose its yours is it?” 

Sky handed it over, letting Hyrule flip through some of the pages. “Nope, definitely not mine. Hey Vet!” Hyrule called out. 

Legend’s head snapped towards them from where he was by Four, pausing to let the two of them catch up before walking beside them. “Need something?”

Hyrule handed him the notebook, “Don’t suppose we can add drawing to your list of random talents could we?”

Legend opened it up curiously before slamming it shut again. His head swiveled to the back of the group before glaring at Hyrule. “Where the hell did you get this?”

Hyrule shot a finger towards Sky who immediately wished he had kept his mouth shut. Legend glared at him, waiting for a response.

“I-I found it as we were leaving this morning. I didn't know it was yours-”

“It's not.” He snapped.

“Wait if it's not yours then whose is it?”

Legend looked towards the back of the group again as if afraid of getting caught. Sky couldn’t help but try to follow his gaze only for Legend to slam the small book into his chest.

“Gee Sky, a book full of drawings of you. It's an absolute mystery as to who it could belong to.” His voice was overflowing with sarcasm that Sky was not appreciating. Sky crossed his arms, narrowing his gaze towards the Vet. Hyrule awkwardly looking between the two of them.

“I already told Hyrule, it's not mine.”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.” Legend groaned, rubbing his temples. “Please tell me you aren’t that oblivious.”

“Excuse me! I am not oblivious! Now are you gonna tell me who it belongs to or not?”

“By the three… you seriously need me to spell it out for you Bird Brain? There isn’t a single person in this group you can think of that this might belong to?”

“Obviously not since I still have it! I don't recall anyone here talking about being able to draw so please, enlighten me.”

Legend grumbled, obviously frustrated about the current situation. “Try the girl back there that's painfully head over heels for you.”

Hyrule snorted, hands slamming over his mouth to keep in his laughter.

“(Y/N) doesn't draw.”

“Obviously, she does Sky. Or did you not look through the damn thing?”

“But…no. No, she would have told me!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me Sky. She's embarrassed. Did you really expect her to waltz up, show you the dozens of drawings she's done, of you no less, and actually admit she's the one that drew all of them? She might as well have just confessed her love while she was at it.”

Sky's mind went blank.

Was Legend really telling the truth? Had you drawn these and not told him? 

No. No you would have told him. Surely Legend was mistaken and it was someone else's. Maybe it was a shared notebook and that's why there were so many of just him?

Sky couldn't even convince himself that his reasonings were true. Deep down, he knew Legend had to be right. Even deeper, he wanted him to be right.

Because if the Vet was right, and you had drawn all of these. Then was the Vet also right about your feelings for him?

“You… you think she likes me?”

Legend tugged so tightly on his hair he was surprised it didn't rip out of the man's skull. 

“For fucks sake Sky! What do you think?”

“Buddy” Hyrule chimed in with a pat to his shoulder. “Come on, surely you suspected as much right? I mean she practically grows hearts in her eyes when you're around.”

Really? If that was true then how had he never noticed anything? 

“Alright let's stop here for now and take a break.” Wars announced, handing a few chores out before everyone could scatter.

Legend and Hyrule walked away, having been out on scouting the perimeter. Leaving Sky to think about their conversation. 

There was just no logical way that this was yours. He forged the Master Sword, defeated countless numbers of monsters, puzzles and a God for Hylia’s sake. Surely he would have noticed if his companion had a crush on him or at the very least had been drawing him for weeks on end.

“Uggghh where is it!?” Sky looked up, watching you practically dump out the entire contents of your bag. He got to his feet, making his way over to you quickly to try and help whatever problem had arisen.

“What's wrong?”

“I can't find my notebook! I swear I put it in here last night but I can't find it!”

Notebook?

Sky paled, shoving the notebook into his bag before you could see.

“Oh,” he said nervously. Why was he feeling so nervous all of a sudden? “Do you want help looking for it?” He offered. His mind yelling at him that the one he had just shoved in his bag was the same one you were looking for. That Legend had been right. That you were the one that had done those wonderful drawings.

Hylia, Legend was right.

“No!” You said a little too quickly. “No, it's fine. I'm sure I'll find it eventually..” You began shoving things back into your bag. Not caring about keeping anything organized. “But thanks, I appreciate the offer.”

You walked off, shoulders sagging slightly.

Sky's heart raced in his chest as the realization of it all slammed into him like a Loftwing at full speed.

You liked him. 

Goddess how had he not seen it until now? You, wonderful, beautiful you, liked him.

He walked to the edge of the small clearing, taking out the notebook again when no one was looking.

He flipped through its contents once more. Admiring all the work you had done. He knew he needed to give it back, and he would. 

But what was the harm in waiting a day or two?

Just until the perfect moment presented itself.

Then he'd give it back.

And hopefully more.

___________

“Sky? You over here?” 

“Here!” He could see you approach out of the corner of his eye. Placing the shirt he had been scrubbing at for the past few minutes on the rock beside him.

“Oh uhh sorry I can come back later!” You stammered. Hand raised to cover your eyes when you realized he was shirtless. 

Sky chuckled. “Come on (Y/N) we all know you’ve seen worse. I'm just trying to get some of the blood out from earlier.” He said, motioning to his pieces of clothing drying nearby. He waved you over, patting the ground next to him. 

You walked over sheepishly. Kneeling down with a respectable distance between you and the knight. “Want any help?”

“Nah that's okay. I got most of it out already. Buuuut~ I'm actually glad you're here!” He leaned over for his bag. Shuffling through before pulling out the small brown notebook. “I believe this belongs to you.”

He pushed it into your hands and your heart skipped a beat. You snatched it up, quickly flipping through the worn pages to confirm that this was indeed the one you had misplaced the other day.

“Sky this is…You found it! Oh my goodness thank you!” You hugged it tightly to your chest. Relieved to have your drawings returned to you. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you could draw?”

Your heart skipped again and this time you wondered if it was because it had finally cut its losses and simply stopped working. You didn’t dare meet his gaze. Keeping your eyes distinctly on the grass between you and him. You forced yourself to swallow, willing your voice to work.

“You...you looked through it?”

“Well…yeah?” Sky rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Only because I didn’t know it was yours! I found it on the ground and I was just trying to see who it belonged to! But then I saw all the work you put into those drawing and they were just so beautifully detailed that I sorta just kept going and-”

“Hold up,” You interrupted, having no clue where to begin unpacking all of the information he had just spouted at you. You were mortified at the thought that he had seen all of those drawings you had done of him. Not to mention- wait had you heard him right? ”You like them? You don't think..ya know, that it's kinda weird?”

Sky cocked his head. His eyebrows raised in confusion as if you had just spoken an entirely different language. “Are you kidding!? (Y/N) those look amazing!”

Heat invaded your cheeks and you prayed that he wouldn’t call you out on the obvious red spreading over your face. He shifted closer, a hand coming to grab at the notebook which you clutched onto tighter. Sky tugged at it again, giving you an incredulous look. You pouted but let him take it back.

He flipped through a few pages before pointing to a sketch you had done back in Wild’s era. The small field of wildflowers that overlooked a small village on the coastline. “I mean seriously (Y/N) do you see these?”

He turned the page, pointing to a rough sketch of War’s scarf wrapped around his sword. “I never even realized that scarf of his had some of those embroideries on it!” He flipped through some more pages, pointing out drawings on each page. He eventually paused, placing the book face open on your lap.

The only drawing on the page was one of the man beside you. He was standing against a tree, his hand outstretched in front of him as a small red bird fluttered around his head.

Sky leaned over, hovering his head over your shoulder. “That one’s my favorite.” He whispered. A soft smile on his lips as he admired the drawing in your lap. 

You replied just as softly, “Mine too.” A finger traced over the soft lines of the bird. Recalling how you had sat there for over an hour to memorize every detail of the scene laid out before you. His hand covered yours, running his thumb over your knuckles.

“They’re amazing (Y/N).” You looked up, his face right by yours. The proximity alone making you blush furiously as his words stirred something in your chest. “You are amazing.”

His lips pressed against yours, taking you by surprise. 

You let your eyes slip close, moving your mouth against him. A feather-like touch brushing up the length of your arm. His hand coming to hold your face to his. Your fingers twitched towards him, only brave enough to rest just above his knees. You didn’t dare go any higher than that. The heat coming from him only serving as a reminder of the lack of clothing between your bodies.

A gasp escaped you as Sky pulled away. His mouth agape, chest rapidly rising and falling from the small pants that he let out. You pulled your eyes away from his slightly reddened lips, catching his eyes that stared back in disbelief. 

You both let out a breathy laugh, turning your face away into his shoulder. His lips pressed into your hair as you both sat there for a moment. 

You pulled away, unable to hide the stupidly large grin on your face. You closed the notebook that had stayed put on your lap. Holding it protectively to your chest. 

“Thank you Sky”

His mouth curved into a small smirk, “It was just a kiss (Y/N). No need to thank me.”

You hit his shoulder, rolling your eyes as he snickered. “Not that bird brain.” You stuck your tongue out at him for good measure and nodded towards the notebook. “For this.”

Sky’s face softened for just a moment. That smile that you had fallen in love with making a short appearance before morphing into an expression you had never seen grace the Skyloftian’s face. 

“Ya know (Y/N),” His arm snuck around to rest behind you. Supporting his weight as he leaned back in. “Seeing as you're quite the artist, maybe you should draw me.”

You snorted, “How much of that notebook did you actually look through? Because I'm pretty sure I have already.” You tapped him on the nose. Leaning away, only for him to follow after you.

“Mmm~ I'm aware.” He purred, glancing down at your lips that you chewed on nervously. “And you did such a good job too.” He snatched the notebook from your hand, tossing it lightly to the side.

“Hey!” You tried to grab it and he caught your hand. Lifting it up so he could place a light kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“You could draw me like this if you’d like.” Another kiss on your wrist as he looked up to your eyes. Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. Breath catching in your throat as the tip of his tongue flicked over where his lips had just been.

“Sky-”

“Would you like that?” His hand pressed against your back. Pushing you closer to him till you were sat on his lap. You braced your hands against his shoulders. Fingers brushing along his collar bone that had him shuddering beneath you.

“Is there something else you'd like as well?”

“I…I want..”

“Tell me what you want.” His voice was breathy by your neck. The smallest trace of his lips grazing over the sensitive skin that made you shiver. His hands gripping onto your hips. Your mind already imagining the small circles of his thumbs pressed against another part of your body.

“Sky please..” you whimpered shamelessly.  You slid your hands across his chest, letting your nails drag lightly across the expanse of skin. His chest rumbled, chuckling while his mouth traveled just below your jawline.

“Please what?” He teased, pulling a small moan from your lips as he kissed right below your ear. 

“Use your words baby bird” He whispered into your skin.

“Kiss me. Please.”

His lips slammed onto yours, yanking you forward till you were pressed flat against him. Your hands tangled in his hair, giving a short tug that had him groan into your mouth. When you did it again he shot forward, your back hitting the damp grass with him hovering over you. His forearms trapping you in place as he slid his tongue over your bottom lip. 

*Ah-hem*

You both froze at the sound of Time clearing his throat. Both glancing up to see the man standing a few paces away. His arms crossed over his chest with his signature scowl of disapproval.

“I suppose it's a good thing I didnt send Wind to come collect the two of you. Now,” his face lightened ever so slightly as you both quickly sat up. “If you two lovebirds would keep it together, the rest of us would like to get moving soon.”

“Yes sir..”

“Sorry Time..”

Time just stared as you both scrambled to your feet. His face lightened into a softer, more contemplative smile as he twisted the ring around his finger.

Sky quickly grabbed his bag, throwing on a spare shirt while you grabbed the two still drying nearby, along with your notebook. Time walked off, muttering something about his wife being right that you didn't quite catch.

Sky's whole face had turned pink, adamantly avoiding your eyes. You stepped closer, holding onto his arm as you reached up and kissed his cheek.

“Just so you know,” you said. Beginning to follow after Time. “I’ll definitely be taking you up on that offer.” You winked as Sky's face turned the color of his Loftwing. Standing there dumbfounded for a moment before rushing to catch up to you.

His hand rested on the small of your back, letting you lean into his side as you walked back.

“Maybe we wait till the next inn though.”

[woozinhos]

hi hiii I really really love your works MUAHAHSH

can you make a story where Jeonghan and Yn are making out in Jeonghans office and they get too into it.. and uh someone walks in (most preferably Mingyu)

HAHSHSHSHSHS U LOVE YOUR ACC 🦅🦅🦅🦅

Notes: I’m back gang time to start writing Wooo wooooppp

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

Smut below the cut

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Jeonghan's hands roamed over your body as he kissed you deeply, his lips hungry and demanding. He pressed you against the wall of his office, his body flush against yours as he claimed your mouth. You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him back with equal fervor. You were lost in the moment, completely consumed by the passion between the two of you.

Jeonghan's tongue darted into your mouth, tangling with yours as he explored every inch of you. He tasted sweet, like honey and cinnamon, and you couldn't get enough of him. His hands moved lower, sliding down your sides and gripping your hips possessively. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing a path down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

"You're so beautiful," Jeonghan murmured against your skin, his voice filled with desire. "I can't get enough of you." He continued to kiss and nibble at your neck, his hands wandering lower until they were gripping the backs of your thighs. You let out a soft moan as Jeonghan lifted you up, his hands supporting your weight as he carried you over to his desk. He set you down on the edge, his body pressing between your legs as he kissed you again. "I've been thinking about this all day," he whispered, his lips moving to your ear. "I've been thinking about you."

"I've been thinking about you too," you whispered back, your voice shaky with need. "I've been wanting you all day." Jeonghan smiled against your skin, his hands roaming up and down your thighs. He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes dark with desire.

"You're all mine," he said, his voice low and possessive. "And I'm going to make sure you never forget it." You pulled Jeonghan closer, your bodies pressed together as you kissed him hungrily. Your hands roamed over his back, pulling him as close as possible as your tongues tangled together. Jeonghan's hands slid under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he deepened the kiss. He pushed you back onto the desk, his body pinning you down as he continued to kiss you senseless.

Mingyu knocked on the door to Jeonghan's office, but there was no answer. He frowned and pushed the door open, stepping inside without waiting for a response.

His eyes widened in shock as he took in the sight before him - you and Jeonghan, completely lost in each other, making out on his desk. Mingyu stood frozen in the doorway, his jaw dropping as he stared at the two of you. He couldn't believe what he was seeing - his best friend and you, tangled together on the desk, completely unaware of his presence. Jeonghan was the first to notice him, breaking the kiss and looking up with a mixture of surprise and irritation.

"What the hell, Mingyu?" he exclaimed, his voice rough with annoyance. You let out a surprised yelp and quickly began fixing your clothes, feeling a rush of embarrassment and shame at being caught in such a compromising position. Mingyu's eyes flicked between the two of you, his expression a mix of anger and disbelief. "What the hell is going on here?" he repeated, his voice rising. "You two are supposed to be professional." Jeonghan rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself.

"We are professional," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "But sometimes, we like to take a break and indulge in some personal time." Mingyu's jaw clenched as he glared at Jeonghan, clearly not buying his excuse. "This is a workplace," he snapped. "You can't just use your office for...this." Jeonghan shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Says who? We're not hurting anyone, are we?" Mingyu let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is inappropriate," he said firmly. "And completely unprofessional. You both need to learn some self-control." Mingyu shook his head in annoyance and walked over to the desk, handing Jeonghan a stack of papers.

"Here's those papers you needed," he said gruffly, avoiding eye contact with you. "And I expect you to keep things professional from now on." Jeonghan took the papers with a nod, still looking unbothered by Mingyu's lecture. Mingyu's eyes lingered on the marks on your neck, his expression unreadable. He tried to keep his face impassive, but you could tell he was struggling to hide his emotions. Jeonghan noticed the way Mingyu was looking at you and smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on his friend.

"What's wrong, Mingyu?" he asked innocently. "Something bothering you?" Mingyu clenched his jaw, his eyes flicking back to Jeonghan. "Nothing," he said tersely. "Just trying to wrap my head around your complete lack of professionalism." Jeonghan chuckled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're just jealous," he teased. "You wish you had someone to mark up like that." Mingyu's face darkened with anger as Jeonghan's words hit a nerve. He flipped him off and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. Jeonghan laughed and shook his head, amused by the whole situation.

"I think we got under his skin," he said, turning his attention back to you.

[rosenclaws]

HIII you don’t know how happy i am to have stumbled on your treasure chest of an account 😭 the way you portray characters is exactly how i’ve imagined them!!! especially leopold ♥️ i’m so glad there’s an active writer for him who writes so beautifully!!

i was hoping to request a fluff fic for leopold where reader teaches kids (5-7 yrs old) and leo visits reader at their workplace. the kids do know of readers few/past boyfriends and they weren’t too fond of any of them, but they really really love leo 🫂 reader does like leo but is unaware the feelings are mutual, so the kids help leo out in trying to win their heart ♥️ (and maybe work in the element of daisies? they’re reader’s/my fave flower lolol)

she/her pronouns are good but you can also do gn! thank ü sm ⭐️ hope you’re having a great day!!!

a/n: Truth be told I've been neglecting Leopold. I've written so much Logan and I love Logan but Leopold is who truly captured my heart. I'm a little rusty but I hope you like it!! Also DAMN HES SO HANDSOME ITS CRIMINAL

Of all the days to be running late today was possibly the worst. You completely forgot about a very important meeting and you could not be late for it. You were scrambling around your apartment when someone knocks at the door.

Not the time.

As you grab your bag you throw open the door to see Leopold standing there. A smile on his face as he greets you good morning. Though he quickly notices your rushed and panicked face.

“Are you ready for coffee?”

“Hi Leo, I’m so sorry I forgot I have this meeting and I’m already late and-“ Leopold places his hands on your arms, getting you to stop moving. You feel a warmth spread through your body from his touch.

“It’s alright darling, we can go another time.” He flashes that perfect smile and for a second you hesitate to move. But you really can’t be late.

“Thank you, you can hang out here if you want. Bye Leo.” You rush past him and he just smiles. He thinks you’re adorable when you’re flustered like that.

Truth be told Leopold doesn’t like coffee. He finds it bitter and gross and nothing compared to the wonders of tea. But when he met you and you had asked him to coffee. He just couldn’t say no.

You were one of Kate’s friends from college and ever since that day he had become entranced by you. So he sat through sipping coffee if it meant he got to speak to you. He notices a bag sitting on your counter. Furrowing his brows he takes it and looks inside. It’s your lunch. He frowns when he sees the processed food and quite unhealthy snacks inside. He knows you’re busy but he’s talked to you about this. You’re a very busy women and he worries about your habits and health. He tosses the bag in the fridge and heads out. Determined to make sure you get your lunch.

”Alright class! Finish up your drawings so we can have story time!” You announce to your students who were very deep into their artworks. There was paint all over your smock and glitter everywhere. Your stomach growls and you groan as you sit down at your desk. You forgot your lunch this morning and you were absolutely starving.

“Miss! I’m finished!” Penny, one of your students, calls. She holds up her artwork with a big toothy grin.

“Beautiful Pen!” You get up and bend down near her desk.

“Why don’t you sign it and we can put it in the back to let it dry.” She nods and messily writes her name in the corner.

There's a loud knock at the door and suddenly one of the admin appears in the doorway. You walk over and see a smirk on her face.

“You have a visitor, a very handsome one.” She whispers that last part as you look over her shoulder and see Leopold.

She leaves and Leopold smiles, you lead him into your class which catches the attention of all your students. He probably looked a little odd all dressed up in his old clothing.

“Leo? What are you doing here?”

“You forgot your lunch.” He hands you a few containers. This was not the lunch you had packed yourself.

“I’ve warned you of the dangers of processed food,” He says with a raised eyebrow.

“I know, I just don’t have a lot of time.” You sigh.

“I am aware, so I made you lunch.” Your heart flutters as you look inside. All the food looks amazing, especially the cookies he knows you love.

"Thank you Leo."

"I've noticed more often than not you don't prepare yourself adequate food," You look down, a little embarrassed at being called out.

"So, I decided I'm going to start making you lunch."

"Oh no you don't have to do that-" You start but he cuts you off. A very determined look on his face.

"I insist, please." The very idea makes your heart burst but its too kind of an offer. But its a really good one.

"Okay fine. But I buy the groceries and only until I can start making them for myself again." He smiles and accepts your conditions.

"I must go, but I will see you tomorrow." He bows his head and leaves your classroom.

He throws you a wink right before he leaves and your heart skips. You feel a tug at your pants and you look down to see one of your students Avery.

"Miss, is he a real prince?" She looks up at him with wide eyes. Avery had been in her princess mood and you can't blame her for thinking Leopold had popped right out of a storybook.

"Uh, no sweetie. He's just a friend of mine."

"But he looks just like a prince! If you marry him you could be a princess and we'd have a princess teacher!" She exclaims.

The class starts to agree with her and you try and calm them down. Thankfully their attention shifts when you pull out a book for story time. You were just thankful they forgot about it, or you thought they had.

Visits from Leopold had become a class staple. He'd show up every day to bring you lunch. When you asked why he didn't just give it to you in the morning he told you that this was much more eventful. The kids became obsessed with him and Leopold fed into their curiosity and imagination with ease.

Eventually you just told the school he was a volunteer so he could stick around more. He became your classes favorite story teller. At first he'd read a book or two but he grew bored of those stories and would retell his favorite stories and plays from his childhood, getting the children to act them out with him. He some how got a room of 6 year old's to give him their undivided attention. That isn't and easy feat.

"Leopold! Can you read this one?" Avery hands him one of her fairytale books.

He's sitting on the ground with the kids all around him. His previous prince like clothing was gone and instead he was dressed more modern. You had to admit you missed the flashy and fancy clothes.

Not that he didn't look good in modern clothing, he looks good in everything. You had a feeling though that Avery and the rest of the class had something up their sleeves. They were far too giggly and had mischievous looks on their faces.

"Of course love. A love story? I do find myself reading these from time to time." As he starts the story he offers someone to come play the prince but no one budges.

"We want you to play him!" Avery says with a giggle. Leopold raises an eyebrow but agrees.

"Alright, now the prince needs to have a princess doesn't he?"

"Miss should be the princess!" One of your other students pipes up.

"Me? I don't know guys I'm not really the best actress." You say but they don't care.

You're half dragged out of your chair and to the front of the room. You sit next to Leo and flash him an apologetic smile. From out of nowhere two kids bring the two of you flower crowns. They must have made them at recesses. It's a little small and Leopold's barely fits on his head but it was cute.

"You know instead of a story we should have a wedding!" Penny pipes up.

"A Wedding? Guys where is this coming from?" You say with a laugh, trying to hide your nerves.

"My mommy said a wedding is what two people who really like each other have!" The kids murmur in agreement and you sigh.

"It's alright darling, why not entertain them for today?" Leopold whispers in your ear.

He seems more than okay with being thrust into a kid planned fake wedding. It was quite amusing watching your students try and figure out what they were supposed to do.

They had cut up some paper and used them as flower petals, which they were going to have to clean up before lunch you noted. It was adorable listening to them talk though, as you sat next to Leo you found yourself unable to hold back your smiles.

"You may now kiss the bride!" Your eyes widen as you shake your head.

"Okay that's enough torturing our friend, its clean up time now." You say, putting a stop before things could go too far.

Not that you didn't want to kiss Leopold, but you didn't want him to feel forced to kiss you because your students put on a fake wedding.

"Awww," A chorus of kids groaned as you sent them back to the desk. Though once the lunch bell rings they all seem to forget their sadness.

"Sorry for all of that, I don't know what got into them." You say as you sit at your desk. Leopold had pulled up a chair right next to you. Your lunch being shared between the two of you.

"It's alright, I enjoyed the wedding." He hums as he picks a daisy from his hair. He twirls it around in his fingers before handing it to you.

"For you, my beautiful bride." You bite your lip as you take the flower from his hand, your skin brushing up against each other.

"Thank you my husband." You stick it behind your ear. Leopold stares lovingly into your eyes and you feel yourself sink under his gaze. It's just so intense, his pretty hazel eyes just make you swoon.

"You know, I would not have been upset if we kissed, for the integrity of the story." He whispers, his hand coming to cup your chin.

"Yeah?" You ask breathlessly as the space between the two of you becomes smaller and smaller.

Could this really be happening? Oh god you hope it was. Your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you. His hand is gentle as his kiss deepens. His lips are soft and he tastes like, like everything fucking perfect.

"I've been trying to court you for some time my love." Leopold confesses as you pull apart.

"Normally I would have given you a letter but, Charlie had told me the sentiment was outdated." You giggle at the thought of a handwritten letter from him declaring his love for you, a very romantic idea you must admit.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice. If I had known, we could have done this a lot sooner."

"That's alright darling, because now we have all the time in the world." Well all the time until 12:30 when the bell rang. For now though, you had him all to yourself.

[j0kers-light]

Hello light!

Could you cook us a submissive Joker oneshot???

His Lighthouse: Attention (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Attention- Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

I love being called Light omg! ☺️☺️ a total of 8 people have asked for sub!Joker. Eight!!! I did this but I need to do it again because the gurls are getting desperate.

I don’t want a rock through my window anon lol. I remember that. 🥴

Disclaimer: I suck at sub!Joker (dodges the tomatoes thrown at me) I am team dom!Joker but it’s not about me. It’s about us. Chef Chaos in the kitchen! Dinner is served. 👩🏾‍🍳👩🏽‍💻 please keep in mind I edited this while being sick so if there's mistakes.. no there isn't.

As always, If you wish to be a part of the His Lighthouse taglist, do let me know via comment, ask, or a quick direct message! 🖤✨

Any minute now and Joker was gonna lose what little sanity he had left. You were torturing him. You had to be! Why else would you deny him this long?

You were always doing something. Cooking, writing, reading, too sleepy, whatever! Joker really tried to be reasonable regarding your excuses. The first night he came home in a mood, he kissed up on you and earned a faint gasp— only to hear your sweet voice say, “J, it’s too early.”

You did have an early zoom meeting but that had nothing to do with him. It was four am and he was horny. You didn’t have to do a thing but lie there and feel good, but your whines convinced him otherwise.

“Yeah.. late. Early? Blah blah, time is a uhhh funny thing no?”

Joker reluctantly let you sleep, knowing he’d have all afternoon to have you. He kissed your hair and settled for holding you close as you fell back asleep. He was a patient man; he could wait for what he wanted.

But then your morning call dragged on well into the afternoon. By the time you logged off, you were mentally exhausted and only had the energy to fix something to eat and recharge for the next day. You crashed in bed, completely forgetting about Joker and missing his disappointed pout.

He brooded the entire night and yes, he killed innocent people because he was denied sex.

Again: Not. His. Problem.

Joker could wait until you were free to have your full undivided attention. Because he needed all of it for the things he wanted to do to you. Tomorrow was a new day—that is, until it became a trend for you to be too busy to spare J any time.

If you did have a spare moment, Joker always caught you at the wrong time like right before you were due for a meeting, or when you were nose deep writing a crucial scene. If he didn’t know any better, Joker would have thought you were brushing him off on purpose but your apologizes were genuine.

He made do calming his erections down or distracting himself to avoid arousal altogether but there was only so much a man could do. It was right there!

Sure, he could jerk off but where was the fun in that? His hand was nothing compared to yours or the warm vice that your pussy created. Man, he missed her. When was the last time he slid home or tasted all you had to offer? He couldn’t remember when.

Joker was not above begging (he’d done it once or twice since knowing you) but still. He wasn’t that hopeless.

Honestly, Joker didn’t know why he was lying to himself. He was that hopeless. Enough was enough.

Joker went an entire week and a half patiently waiting for you. It was torture to have you so close every day yet being unable to touch you. And the worst part? You were blissfully unaware that Joker was suffering.

He had to endure seeing your beautiful body walking around in the clothes you dare call loungewear. They were weapons of mass destruction in his eyes, no doubt about it.

Your plushy thighs barely contained by your shorts—what he’d do to have them in his hands; no. He wanted to leave bite marks on every inch and soothe them with his tongue. Thighs like yours were made to be worshipped. Squeezed. Devoured. Claimed. And he wanted to die being suffocated by them.

Joker was literally going through withdrawals he was so desperate!

Every time he closed his eyes; he saw you in his favorite position. Whenever his fingers brushed against something soft; he was reminded of your supple skin slick with sweat. He heard your innocent hums or sighs, and the sound shot to his dick, reminding him of times you made the same sounds in the throes of passion. He wanted your voice hoarse with tears streaming down your cheeks as he plowed..

Easy there. Down boy.. Down. Joker thought to himself.

You even haunted his random thoughts! You turned him to an addict waiting for the next high and as each day passed, he became more and more desperate to reach it. He was more than needy. Joker was deprived of his Light and feral. He would do anything for a sliver of your attention.

Two weeks going on three proved to be his breaking point. If you didn’t attend to his needs then he would take matters into his own hands and force you to.

Thankfully you gave him the perfect opportunity to plead his case. Joker came home and for once, you weren’t seated in front of your laptop.

You weren’t holding up a finger for him to be quiet. No headset on or handwritten notes scattered across your desk. No. You were in the kitchen chopping up some vegetables with music playing softly in the background.

It was neutral ground. Joker took hesitant steps until you acknowledged his presence with a smile. Okay... you didn’t look busy, nor did you tell him to leave. Was this his chance? You seemed to be in a good enough mood.

Just to be sure, Joker came up behind you and kissed your shoulder. It was bare due to the tank top you wore and f__k... you weren’t wearing a bra. This was torture indeed.

J buried his nose in the crook of your neck to block out the pungent smell of onions and instead soaked up the rich smell of you. You smelled divine as always. The strands of his hair tickled your skin the more he nuzzled in closer.

“Hm, that tickles.” Yet you didn’t stop your meal prep.

He was right there, why couldn’t you give him your attention?! He huffed and planted more kisses on the expanse of your neck and shoulders. You didn’t push him away so he took things to the next level by groping your breasts through the thin material of your top.

Now that got you to pause your music. “Joker. I’m cooking."

A rare whine escaped his throat, “’n I’m hungry.” He bit the spot where your neck met your jaw; your favorite erogenous zone.

“T-then let me cook. J.. quit it.” You shivered when his hands slipped under your shirt and finally touched you skin to skin. The initial contact sucked the air from your lungs, but you pressed forward. “This is my first time making this dish and I.. oh right there.. I don’t w-want to ruin it!”

Joker’s lips left your neck with a wet pop. Did he really had to beg for what he wanted? So be it then.

“But what about meeee, Bun? You’re ruining me. I.. I..” He groaned as he pinched your nipples into stiff peaks. Your body was responding to his needs, why couldn’t that pretty head of yours follow suit?

He whined again and started grinding his dick into your back, all but pining you to the kitchen counter. You weren't escaping this. Joker would not let you. “I... oh sweetheart, I um..”

You heard Joker stumbling over his words (and not his usual theatrical stumbles). Something was wrong. You turnt your head and barely caught J biting his lips. “Joker, are you okay?”

His green hair concealed his eyes from your view. He was a mess with his freckled face all rosy red with want but that’s not how you saw it. J looked in pain.

You dropped the chef knife and focused your attention on Joker. Finally. It’s all he wanted these past few weeks. Your attention. Undivided. Squarely on him.

He let you turn in his arms and he hummed when your hands cupped his scarred face. His cheeks were flushed and there was a glassy look in his eye that had you worried. “J? Are you catching a cold?”

What did he do to deserve this? Joker groaned and dropped his head to your chest. So soft. “Nuh uh. I just, mmm.” Why was it suddenly so hard to ask?

Maybe because you starved him for so long and now that he had your attention, it was just too much to take in. Your thumbs moved on autopilot and rubbed Joker’s scars, but you gasped when he caught one in his mouth and sucked.

Oh. Oh no.

You were speechless as Joker looked up through his long lashes. You knew that look. Granted you only seen it once, it was a state you could never forget. You thought it would be a one-time occurrence but as you took in the turbulent emerald waters in Joker’s eyes, you already knew what mindset he had slipped into.

“Can I have ya M-Mommy? I been verrrrry patient, so patient but I.. I need p-please? I need ya.”

Joker didn’t give you time to respond, he growled lowly and swept an arm across the countertop—sending food and other ingredients flying. You had a mind to scold him, but J already lifted you onto the counter before you could string a sentence together.

Your shrieked at the cold surface hitting your thighs but Joker’s hands parted them like a hot knife to butter. His lips were everywhere, telling you exactly what was on his mind.

You you you you you you you. Finally, he had you.

His hands were eager, pawing at your clothes—he needed them gone, he wanted access to your skin, your body, your warmth. There was so much to do, so little time. What if you denied him again before he had his way? No! Joker needed this. He needed you.

He latched onto your nipples over the cotton fabric and suckled. Your hands flew into his hair as a result. “Joker!”

He hummed, sending vibrations on your skin even as he grew inpatient and clawed at your waist hidden by your pesky shorts. The stupid thing could double as underwear it was so scandalous. Perhaps you underestimated just how desperate Joker truly was.

The fabric was like tissue paper in his hands although he didn’t dwell much on the loss nor on your startled gasp. He was one step closer to his goal.

His mind was flooded with the concept of you. The sounds you made, the way you responded to his touch. He was going insane(r).

You yelped feeling his hand snake in between your thighs and rub at your entrance. Joker groaned against your chest feeling the wetness coating his fingers. “Mm, soooo wet Mommy. Already? Are ya wet for meee? I knew it, you need this too.”

His words hit hard and caused more slick to pool into his palm. “Shhh, I know, I know.” J shushed your cries when he plunged his fingers inside your pussy and began to pump them nice and hard.

The stretch was unexpected; you forgotten the last time you and Joker were intimate. Work took a lot out of you these past few weeks. Sex was the last thing on your mind but Joker was so kind to reintroduce you to the concept.

The wet slick sound of your pussy was loud in your ears and Joker amplified it by moving his fingers faster. He truly was a man possessed.

He watched each emotion alter your face with every stroke of his fingers. Knuckles deep made your eyelashes flutter like wings.

Letting his thumb rub your clit with every retreat had your back arching beautifully. When he rubbed against your favorite spot thus earning a high-pitched yelp, he grinned and kissed anywhere he could. You’d have hickies all over, he didn’t care.

Gods, you were stunning. This is what he missed all those nights.

You in the throes of passion under him. Over him. It did not matter. His cock twitched in his pants the louder you moaned out your pleasure. You were close and he couldn’t wait to see you unravel.

Would you notice him grinding into the counter? Probably not with how your thighs were shaking.

You were clinging onto Joker’s shoulders, crying out for him and he heard every single word spill from your lips.

Your eyes found Joker’s the moment the white-hot coil in your belly snapped. He was right there to watch you come undone. And what a sight you were.

His moans echoed yours as you rode out your high. J didn’t stop the fast thrusts of his fingers in your cunt not even when you whimpered ‘too much,’ he just shook his head.

No, you deserved all his love, why run from it? If he could go weeks bottling up his desire then you could handle the tsunami wave of it crashing down on you. It only seemed fair in his twisted mind.

You did not know when Joker stopped fingering you. One minute your cunt was teetering on the edge of another orgasm, the next Joker was kissing you senseless.

Attempts at your name mixed in with his subby whines caught you off guard but nothing compared to hearing Joker’s still wet hand stroking his cock.

Your eyes shot open at the lewd sound. He had no shame. Joker stood before you jerking himself off with precum splattering on the tile kitchen floor.

Why did he look thicker, heavier, and you bit your lip catching a fleeing glimpse of his angry red head before it disappeared in his fist.

Yeah, J looked in pain alright. If he didn’t have you soon, he just might combust. His entire frame shook with the restraint he held. It sent a tingle of fear down your spine. You might not walk after this..

How long had it been since you and J had sex again? Your mind drew a blank.

And not like it mattered; Joker was tired of waiting. He rested his forehead against yours with a choppy sigh. “Mm, I need it. I need you. I’m sorry Mommy, I ahhh…”

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as Joker bottomed out inside your pussy with one powerful thrust. Home at last. Why did he ever leave? Why did he wait so long?

He let out a guttural groan as he set his hands on the counter near your hips. “Yessss f-finally f__k yes! Oh, thank you Mommy. Thank you. Fuuu—”

Joker proceeded to pound into you and all logical thought was lost to time. Only his babbles of thank yous and sloppy kisses to your skin were deemed relevant.

Pieces of chopped vegetables and other ingredients clung to your back but none of that clicked inside your scrambled brain.

Your current thoughts were surrounded on breathing and not blacking out. Was Joker always this feral or did it have to do with the time apart? He was a completely different person plowing into your cunt, spaced out, and drooling onto your skin. If you got the chance, you would wager his eyes blown out by lust with no green therein.

It was hot to be desired to such a degree. To be thanked for spreading your legs while at the same time, being reduced to mere a fleshlight.

Nothing else mattered except the hard wet slap of Joker’s hips meeting your own.

He had a bruising grip on your waist to help guide you forward onto his invading length. You could feel every vein on Joker’s dick dragging against your walls, over and over without remorse, until another orgasm bubbled up to the surface. He had no plans of stopping but black dots were filling your vision.

“J....” you said with a shaky breath.

Your hands sought him out, requesting anything to help ground you to earth. You found hope clinging to Joker’s wrists although that triggered something in him.

Perhaps it was already there lying dormant, nevertheless, he yanked you up from the counter and into his arms. Once J knew you secure, he kissed your cheek and began bouncing you on his cock.

The new angle was deeper with the same brutal pace as before. It snatched a wanton moan right from your throat that Joker responded to with a sweet coo.

“Ooh, you like that Mommy? This big.. fat d-dick deep n’ hard in my pretty girl’s guts? Yea? Well it’s allllll for you, no one else. I always wanna be in ya Mommy.” He grunted when he slammed you down a bit harder than expected. “F__k, you’re sooo tight!!”

You clawed at his arms the same time J grimaced from your pussy squeezing him to death. He happened to be a certified masochist but this was the best pain he ever experienced.

That and the longest blue balls you subjected him to. He could not wait to empty inside you.

Which reminded him; that this was all your fault.

“Whydda make me wait huh? Ya g-got me.. ngh, goin’ crazy for this pussy. H-Hallucinating and s__t! Ya makin’ me crazier n’ I love ittttt!”

He bounced you harder on his cock during his mindless babbles and you almost missed what he said.

Make him wait? What nonsense was Joker on about? You lifted your head from J’s neck and eyed him sideways. Not once did he come to you this past month!

You thought he was too busy with all his crime and whatever he did at night to be bothered.

His accusations made you mad and before you knew it, your hands were wrapping around Joker’s throat.

You wanted him to just shut up and keep f__king you, however you weren’t expecting a dazed smile to bloom across J’s face nor hear the feminine moan that escaped him. He was ruined beyond measure.

Oh. Now that was unexpected.

“H-Harder.” He begged. Joker. Begged. The idea was unheard of. You blinked in shock but did as you were asked albeit hesitantly.

You used both hands to squeeze his airway. Joker made noises you’ve never heard before (all them sending liquid fire to your clit) as he picked back up his erratic thrusts into your cunt. He liked this?

His hazy smile confirmed it.

Without warning, J fell back onto the fridge, taking you with him. It was jarring at first, but his grip on you never faltered. In fact, he never missed a beat ramming into your sopping wet hole.

Apparently, J wasn’t the only one enjoying the newly discovered choking kink.

“Harder, baby. I-I can t-take it!” You were wary, Joker could tell, so he snapped his hips up to hit your g spot with a disturbing accuracy. It only took a few hits for you to crumble.

You cried out as your orgasm took you by surprise. Joker didn’t know which was tighter. Your hand around his neck or your pussy on his dick; either way, what bliss.

He just closed his eyes and flooded your cunt.

He felt each spurt of cum with the lack of oxygen making him hypersensitive. He had so much to give, he could feel it spilling out of you and down to his balls.

He didn’t want to leave your warmth; it felt too good. A perfect finale for weeks of denial.

Despite the room spinning, Joker was ever mindful of you in his arms as he slid further down the fridge and ultimately to the floor. The cold tiles were a shock to his sweaty skin and he rightfully shielded you from it with his body.

The two of you breathed in the hot, balmy air as time caught up to reality.

You were still seated on J’s cock, playing with the ends of his hair. You couldn’t get up even if your life depended on it.

You didn’t want to be the first to speak but J wasn’t planning on it. He was still on cloud nine, only allowing his thumb to rub mindlessly on your lower back.

Last time Joker did not want to acknowledge his unusual behavior so you had to walk on eggshells just in case he would have the same mentality today.

“Um, J? Are you okay?” You glanced at his neck which was already turning red, “I hope I didn’t squeeze too hard.”

His Light; always so sweet and pure. Joker smiled at your worrisomeness. You did choke him harder than he’d anticipated but he didn’t want you freaking out and not consider doing it again.

Again. He was already thinking about a repeat performance. He was truly messed up in the head. Joker shook his head and fussed over you.

His voice is hoarse when he finally replied. “I’m fine, Bun. That was…”

He shifted as if highlighting exactly what the two of you just did.

You blushed feeling the sticky mess pooling in between you and Joker’s legs. You grimaced at the thought of cleaning up later. Right now, you just sighed in relief. Sex with Joker was always an adventure.

Today however…

The elephant was still lingering in the room. “I thought you didn’t like being.. you know.” You bit your lip, looking away.

Joker tapped it lightly to make you stop. All his previous actions and statements done in the heat of the moment rushed back to him and oddly enough, he wasn’t embarrassed like last time.

He still didn’t know what to make of it these developments.. but you deserved an answer as his partner.

“I uh don’T? I just get so ahh, des-per-ate? Needy? Hm. I’m obsessed what can I say? Its errr.. your fault, for leaving me high n’ dry. Don’t. Do. It. Again.” He growled as he pinched your cheek.

Good to know he was back to his normal self. And in record time too.

You rubbed the sting away with a pout. You missed his submissiveness already. “Maybe Mommy should deny her pretty boy again. I kinda like you all pussy drunk and needy. Would you like that baby” you teased.

Joker’s cheeks flushed red, “Yes I.. ah ahem! Pft. Whatever ya want Bun.” He looked away, hoping you didn’t hear the first half of his sentence.

Unfortunately, you did. “Just admit you like it, J. There’s nothing wrong with a mommy kink.”

“I. Do. Not. Have. A..” you cut him off with a firm hand around his throat. His pathetic moan and the throb from his dick stirring up inside you was all the proof you needed.

You cooed and kissed his nose. “Aww, its okay J baby. Mommy knows the truth now and I’m gonna have, so much fun with you.”