#and his ears! have such good angles in the front facing frame

[sowerpatch]

terms of play [chapter 12 - flagrant foul]

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Summary: Azzi Fudd built the Golden Valkyries on a dare, but drafting Paige Bueckers was all strategy. Fresh off an NCAA title, Paige is everything the team needs—and everything Azzi shouldn’t want.

Officially, it’s all business. Unofficially, it’s glances that linger too long and touches that mean too much.

Author's note: this is an AU where Azzi owns the Golden State Valkyries and drafts Paige. Azzi's family are all original characters. Also, Azzi is three years older than Paige.

*CHAPTER LIST HERE*

Chapter Summary: When a photo of Paige and Azzi appears online, the threat of exposure forces Azzi to confront what she’s tried to avoid: her feelings, the risks, and the terms she set to stay in control.

Despite Paige’s heartfelt confession and willingness to fight for their relationship, Azzi chooses the other way.

The fallout leaves both women reeling. Paige in silence, Azzi through conversations that slowly challenge her decision.

Word count: 6,591

Fudd Holdings, San Francisco. September 2025.  

Azzi’s office held the pause that settled just after noon. Morning meetings had tapered off, her inbox thinned out, and her calendar was plotted in precise increments for the next several weeks.  

Yet she remained at her desk, posture composed, one elbow resting near her tablet while her fingers traced the metal edge without purpose. Her gaze hovered somewhere past the screen, thoughts already detached from the tasks in front of her. 

The buzz of her phone was soft against the wood. She glanced down, expecting a calendar alert or a board ping. 

James 

Azzi paused. He almost never texted. He was the type to call without warning, with his voice already halfway into a story before she even answered. A message from him was rare. Curiosity tugged her out of her concentration. 

She unlocked the screen and opened it. 

The image loaded slowly. A grainy shot, taken without care for angles or lighting. The alley outside the used bookstore on Valencia. Familiar to her now. She saw two figures, side by side, caught in soft motion.  

One was unmistakably Paige. The frame caught her half smiling, hair pulled low, a beanie slouched over her head.  

The other figure—blurred, hood drawn up, her face obscured by the tilt of her chin and the poor lighting—stood closer than expected.  

Their shoulders brushed. The intimacy of it read more clearly than any facial recognition algorithm could produce. 

It was them. 

James: u look good in sweats, lil sis. didn’t know they were in ur rotation. 

Azzi stared at the message, then at the photo again. Her fingers stayed on the edge of her screen, unmoving. She let the image linger for another breath before finally exhaling and pressing the phone icon. Her thumb hovered for half a second, just long enough to recompose the calm she wore like a uniform, then tapped the call. 

It rang twice. 

“You calling to confirm or deny?” James answered, voice already edged with amusement. 

She closed her eyes for a moment. “Where did you get that photo?” 

“Everywhere,” he said. “Instagram, Twitter, one of those thirsty fan accounts. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re just seeing it. Thought you’d have an alert set for anything involving your number one draft pick.” 

Azzi pushed her chair back, the leather catching softly beneath her. She stood and paced toward the windows, phone still at her ear. The sunlight hit her desk at an angle, gold streaks warming the otherwise cold lines of glass and steel. 

“I’ve been working,” she said, carefully. “Deadlines. The arena renovation proposal just got out of committee.” 

“Ah,” James replied. “So too busy to check if you’re going viral for soft-launching your personal life?” 

Azzi sighed as her eyes followed the skyline just beyond the glass. Her reflection hovered faintly in the window, a muted echo of composure she wasn’t entirely feeling. 

“You can barely see me,” she said. “The photo isn’t clear.” 

James let out a low chuckle. “I’m your big brother. You really think a grainy 160p photo is gonna fool me into thinking that’s not my little sister looking real damn comfortable next to Golden State’s Golden Girl?” 

Azzi drew her free hand across her brow, thumb and forefinger pressing briefly at her temples.  

She could still hear Paige’s laugh from that moment. The way their shoulders brushed, how easy it had felt to exist like that for once, just one of two women ducking into an alley after dinner. 

“Has anyone else sent it to you?” she asked, quieter this time. 

“You mean Mom?” James said. “She’s too busy posting about her herb garden.” 

Azzi breathed in through her nose, let it settle in her chest. “It’s not what it looks like.” 

James gave a short laugh. “Then tell me, what does it look like? Because all I see is my little sister stepping out of her glass tower for once. Hanging around an alleyway, at midnight, with someone who makes her laugh. I’ve never seen you do that before. Kinda looks like living to me.” 

The warmth in his voice softened something in her chest, even as her grip on the phone stayed firm. James had always known when to mock and when to mean it. Sometimes, like now, he managed both in the same sentence. 

Azzi sat back in her chair, posture precise but strained. The screen in front of her had long gone dark, her reflection barely visible in the glass. She stared down at her phone, James’s name still at the top of the screen, his words echoing louder than they should have. 

Her voice, when it came, was measured. “The public cannot find out about this. Whatever Paige and I are... it stays where it started. Away from cameras. Away from stories.” 

There was a pause on the line, the weight of familiarity and older-brother instinct building into something firmer. 

“You think I’d send that photo if anyone could tell it was you?” James said. “They don’t know. The internet’s busy guessing, but your name hasn’t come up. Just some mystery woman next to the WNBA’s golden girl. That’s all they’ve got.” 

Azzi exhaled through her nose, gaze fixed on the grain of her desk. “Let’s hope that’s all of it. I’ve allowed this to go further than it should have. It was supposed to be temporary. I can’t afford this kind of distraction, and neither can she.” 

“You’re not describing a distraction,” James said. “You’re describing something real and trying to make it sound disposable.” 

Azzi pressed her fingertips together. Her pulse thudded against her ribs. “It’s immature. All of it. Meeting in alleys, letting myself fall into something undefined with someone I’m supposed to be leading. I need to stop acting like—like this.” 

James’s voice shifted, less teasing now. “You built a life on precision, and it’s served you well. But somewhere along the line, you started thinking control meant cutting yourself off from feeling anything at all.” 

Azzi didn’t interrupt, but her expression hardened faintly. 

“I’ve seen you chase impossible deals. Risk ten times more on things you believed in,” James went on. “So don’t stand there pretending you don’t have the nerve to fall in love just because it came dressed like a headline. You’re allowed to live, Az. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s with the league’s favorite daughter.” 

His voice softened. “Especially if she looks at you like you’re hers.” 

Azzi closed her eyes for a moment. Her hand stayed on her desk, palm flat against the surface like it could anchor her. Nothing in her face gave it away, but in her chest, something had started to shift. 

Azzi rubbed a thumb along the edge of her desk, the tension beginning to loosen beneath her ribs.  

“You and Nika should start an alliance,” she said dryly, lifting her phone off speaker and bringing it to her ear. “You’d be unstoppable. Half interventions, half judgmental commentary.” 

James’s laughter rumbled through the line. “What can I say? You’re fun to gang up on. It’s rare we get a reaction out of you.” 

Her lips curved, just slightly. “Maybe you’re both too predictable.” 

“Maybe. But predictable is what makes us reliable. Unlike someone who skipped out on Mom and Dad’s anniversary dinner without so much as a voicemail.” 

Azzi winced, but she didn’t argue. She leaned back into her chair, letting her head rest against the leather with a sigh. “I was caught up in a project.” 

“Whatever that project is,” James said, voice softening just enough to be felt, “it better not be the reason you miss your niece’s birthday next month.” 

At that, Azzi smiled. It started small but lifted into something real. Her niece had a way of doing that, pulling warmth from her without trying. 

“She still wants that telescope?” Azzi asked. 

“She wants a galaxy projector, a telescope, and a trip to Saturn,” James said. “But more than that, she wants you there.” 

Azzi’s smile lingered. 

“I swear,” he added, mock dramatic now, “she looks up to you like you invented the moon. I asked if she wanted McDonald’s and she said, ‘Aunt Azzi never eats fast food.’ You’ve ruined my daughter’s life.” 

A soft, smug sound escaped Azzi. “She has taste. And standards. I take full credit.” 

“You would,” James muttered. “Anyway, expect an invite. And clear your damn schedule.” 

Azzi reached for her tablet, thumb swiping through her calendar. “Send it over. I’ll move some things.” 

“Good. Because we’re all expecting a plus one this year.” James paused. “Preferably tall, blonde, six-foot with a mean mid-range jumper.” 

- 

Azzi’s condo, San Francisco. September 2025. 

The knock arrived faint and uneven, like hesitation disguised as courage. Azzi stood in the kitchen, her hand curved loosely around the base of a glass.  

The stemless bowl of it held more than wine. It held the weight of restraint. Her tablet sat dim beside her, notifications untouched.  

Azzi set the glass down. Her movements were deliberate, the kind born from years of managing fire with poise. She walked toward the door, pressed her fingers against the handle, and opened it. 

Paige stood beneath the dim lighting of the hallway, posture hunched beneath the hood of her sweatshirt. Her eyes struggled to meet Azzi’s. She didn’t speak. 

Azzi didn’t invite her in with words. She stepped back, leaving just enough space for a decision to be made. 

Paige entered with her hands tucked deep into her pockets. She looked around the condo as though she was trying to remember what calm felt like. The scent of rosemary and warm stone hovered in the air. The room was clean, minimal, the kind of place that had been curated for control. 

“I know you’re pissed,” Paige said, her voice low and edged with exhaustion. “I would be too.” 

Azzi returned to the kitchen and picked up her glass. Her thumb traced the rim instead. 

“I didn’t know anyone was watching,” Paige added. “I swear.” 

Azzi’s gaze stayed fixed. “They always are. Whether you know it or not.” 

Paige dropped her hood. Her hair was still damp at the ends. She looked like she had changed three times before showing up. “It’s just a photo. We weren’t doing anything.” 

Azzi held Paige’s gaze, steady and unyielding. Her voice carried the weight of everything unsaid. “We agreed on boundaries for a reason. These terms protect more than just our reputations. They protect us.”  

The concern beneath her firmness was unmistakable, a careful guard around something fragile. 

Paige’s hands tightened around the edge of her hoodie as if anchoring herself. “I understand that. But this photo—it’s just a shadow, blurred and distant. No one knows who I was with. No one will connect the dots.”  

She tried to infuse confidence into her words, but the edge of worry still lingered in her tone. 

“What if someone takes another picture? One where my face is unmistakable? What then?” Azzi’s question hung in the air, sharp and deliberate. Her eyes narrowed slightly, piercing through the attempt. 

Paige met her eyes with a quiet resolve. “It won’t happen again. We’ll be more careful. I promise. We’ll keep everything away from prying eyes.” 

A shadow passed over Azzi’s expression. Her disappointment was palpable, slipping through the cracks of her composed facade.  

“This situation could have been avoided if you had stuck to our terms from the beginning. Staying inside was not a suggestion. It was essential.” 

Paige lowered her gaze, the weight of responsibility pressing down. The defensiveness she had held faltered, leaving a raw honesty exposed. “I hear you. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” 

“It will not happen again because we need to stop seeing each other. That is the only way to protect what’s left.” Azzi’s eyes softened briefly before hardening with a resolve that tightened the space between them. Her voice was steady but carried the weight of finality. 

Paige’s heart pounded as panic surged through her veins. The thought of losing Azzi felt like a sudden emptiness clawing at her chest.  

“That’s not the answer,” she said, voice trembling with urgency. “Walking away won’t fix anything. We can be careful. We can make this work.” 

“Careful has already failed us. Every time we try, it pulls us closer to exposure. We cannot afford mistakes, not with everything on the line.” 

“What happens to us then? Is letting it go the only way? I’m ready to fight for this. For us.” The vulnerability beneath Paige's words pulled at everything inside her. 

Azzi looked away for a moment, the tension in her jaw betraying the struggle inside. “I want that too, more than you know. But desire does not erase reality. The risks are too great. Our worlds are too different. I cannot let either of us fall because of this.” 

“These terms are bullshit. They’re just a way for you to keep me at a distance. You’re scared. Afraid of what this could become.” Paige’s eyes burned with anger and frustration, refusing to back down. “You hide behind these rules because letting me in means losing control. But I’m not here to be locked away or silenced. I’m here because I want this, all of it” 

Azzi’s eyes narrowed as she held Paige’s gaze with steady intensity. “These were the terms you agreed to from the start. This is on you as much as it is on me. Since they’ve been broken, there is no reason to keep going.” 

Paige’s breath hitched, but she refused to retreat. 

“I agreed because it was the only way to have you. The only way I could hold you, kiss you, treat you like you deserve—to make you feel special.” Her voice softened, trembling with something raw and true.  “You’re worlds above me in every way, but I’d give everything just for a moment to be with you.” 

“Paige —” 

“No Azzi,” Paige shook her head, voice steady but charged with everything she had held back. “I love the moments we steal inside these walls, when it’s just us and the world feels smaller. Those times make me feel like I’m exactly where I belong. But there’s a part of me that aches for more. To take you out on dates where the whole world knows who you are to me. To hold your hand in public without glances or whispered questions. To shout from the rooftops how proud I am of the woman you are—not just the CEO, not just the rich woman everyone sees, but you. Azzi, the woman who laughs at my terrible jokes. The one who steals the blanket and denies it with a straight face. The one who hums under her breath when she thinks I’m asleep. The one who sends me reminders to drink water like I’m the one who needs taking care of, even though your entire world runs on your shoulders.” 

Her breath caught on the weight of it all, vulnerability spilling out in every word. “I see beyond the power suits and the empire you’ve built. I see the woman who hides her fears behind a steel mask, the woman I’ve fallen for completely.” 

The word landed harder than Azzi expected.  

Fallen. 

It struck something deep and unguarded, something she had spent years building layers around. Her breath stalled, caught somewhere between disbelief and a sudden, visceral ache that curled low in her stomach.  

She had been prepared for resistance, even for anger. But not this. Not Paige handing her something so raw, so real, like it wasn’t the most dangerous thing between them. 

She held herself still. Her spine locked into place, but her hands betrayed her, curling slightly at her sides. She felt the room shift around her, like the air had grown heavier, more difficult to stand beneath.  

That word echoed in her chest, threatening to unseat all the careful control she’d spent a lifetime mastering. 

She wanted to speak. To cut through the tension with something definitive, something clean. Instead, she found herself staring at Paige, heart thudding behind her ribs with a rhythm she could not slow. 

She saw it in her mind with sharp clarity—Paige, standing there with her whole heart exposed, offering something Azzi had convinced herself she never needed.  

A future.  

A risk.  

A possibility she hadn’t allowed herself to want. The part of her that spent years making brutal decisions, negotiating mergers, cutting losses and letting go, screamed to end this now before it grew into something irreversible. 

But beneath that instinct was another feeling. Softer, older, more honest.  

She wanted to be chosen like that. She wanted someone to look at her and still want her for who she was. The version stripped of position and power. 

Her voice, when it finally came, was low. “You shouldn’t have said that.” 

It was all she could manage. Anything else would have unraveled her. 

Paige stepped in, slow and certain, until barely a breath sat between them. Her hands stayed at her sides, but her eyes never left Azzi’s face. She could see the tension drawn tight across her expression, the effort it took to stay composed. Azzi looked like she was trying to hold up a wall with trembling arms. 

“I said it because it’s true,” Paige answered, voice low but steady. “And because you needed to hear it, whether you want to or not.” 

A slow tension climbed through Azzi’s chest, as if the truth in Paige’s words had pressed against a part of her she wasn’t ready to name. 

 

“You can try to scare it away. You can stand there and pretend it didn’t crack something open in you. But I’m not sorry I said it. I meant every word.” Paige whispered. 

Azzi’s shoulders sagged slightly as the weight pressed down on her. Her voice came out tight, fragile. “I can’t do this. You’re—” 

“I’m willing to risk everything for this because it’s not just about a secret kept behind closed doors. It’s about us—something real, something worth fighting for. Even if the world tries to keep us apart, I’ll stand by you. I already have.”  

Paige’s eyes locked onto Azzi’s with fierce determination, refusing to let her look away. 

“I love you.” 

“What?”

Paige reached out with deliberate care, her fingers brushing softly against Azzi’s cheek. The warmth of her touch seemed to steady the turmoil beneath Azzi’s composed exterior. For a moment, the world around them slipped away, leaving only the shared weight of their breath and the steady pulse of something fragile and real between them.  

Azzi’s eyes softened as she leaned into the contact, the tension loosening just enough to reveal the vulnerability she usually kept hidden.  

The unspoken promises hung heavy in the space they held together, a tether stronger than any words. Then the moment shifted, the reality of their situation pressing back in like a tide reclaiming the shore. 

“You don’t have to say anything back. I just want you to know how I feel and where I stand.” Paige’s eyes held steady, vulnerable yet unwavering. “That’s all.” 

Azzi’s breath caught as Paige’s words settled in a place she tried to keep locked away. She turned her gaze downward, feeling the weight of everything pressing against her chest. 

“I can’t say the same. I can’t. Sometimes feelings don’t matter when everything else is at stake.” 

When Azzi looked back, she let her fingers brushed a loose strand of Paige’s hair with a hesitant tenderness, a small touch that spoke more than her words.  

“I want this to mean something, but I’m scared it won’t keep us safe. I’m sorry, Paige.” 

- 

Nika’s condo, Oakland. September 2025.  

Azzi’s knock was hesitant, but firm enough to echo softly against the cool walls of Nika’s apartment. The door swung open before she could repeat the sound, revealing Nika standing framed by the warm glow of the living room. Her eyes narrowed slightly, lips pressed into a thin line of curiosity mixed with something sharper—an intuition that unsettled Azzi more than she expected. 

“You,” Nika said with a half-smile, stepping aside without waiting for an invitation. “I was wondering when you’d show up.” 

Azzi stepped in, the faint scent of rain still clinging to her coat. The apartment felt both lived-in and calm, a refuge from the chaos she carried inside. She paused by the doorway, collecting the heaviness that weighed down her shoulders.  

“There’s been a photo,” she said, her voice low and brittle. 

Nika’s expression softened, the sharp edges fading into something warmer but no less serious. “I saw it online this morning. You don’t exactly live in the shadows, but I guess some things find a way to catch up no matter what.” 

Azzi eased down onto the worn leather sofa, the familiar texture grounding her amid the restless swirl of thoughts. She let out a slow breath, her fingers tracing the grain of the armrest as if searching for solid footing. 

“I tried to calculate everything, every risk, every move. I never thought being careful would not be enough.” Her voice cracked slightly, betraying the strain beneath the surface. “I thought if we stuck to the terms, if Paige and I stayed grounded, we could keep it all hidden.” 

She looked up, eyes searching Nika’s face for judgment or disappointment but finding only steady understanding. “But the photo, someone saw us. And now everything feels unraveling. I feel like I am losing control and I do not know how to fix it.” 

Nika moved closer and settled beside Azzi on the sofa, her hand reaching out to pull her into a gentle hug. The warmth of the embrace was steady, a soft anchor in the storm of Azzi’s unraveling thoughts. 

“I could say I told you so, but that wouldn’t help right now.” Her smile was fleeting, fading as her eyes settled on Azzi with steady care. “It’s alright to fall apart. You don’t have to hold everything inside. You’re allowed to crash, to feel broken sometimes. That doesn’t make you any less strong.” 

Azzi’s breath caught, the carefully guarded walls around her emotions beginning to crumble in that moment. 

“You have me,” Nika continued, her eyes locking with Azzi’s. “And you have more people in your corner than you realize.” 

“You don’t have to be nice to me for a raise.” Azzi tried to joke.  

Nika let out a soft snort, shaking her head as she leaned back just enough to see Azzi’s face.  

“Please. I’m getting a raise whether I’m nice to you or not.” Her grin was crooked, but her tone was clear and even. “But I’m not saying this because I want something from you. I’m saying it because it’s true.” 

Azzi’s eyes lowered, jaw tight, as if accepting kindness demanded more strength than holding the world on her shoulders. 

“You’re so locked in—work, Paige, keeping everything airtight—that you miss what’s right in front of you. You’re not alone in this. You never were.” Nika kept her voice even, but her gaze pressed in, steady and sure.  

“Ines has been holding that schedule of yours like it's classified military intel. She’s been screening calls and dodging press better than most publicists I’ve met. That’s loyalty. She’s not there because it’s a paycheck. She’s there because she believes in you.” 

Something in Azzi shifted in the lines of her expression.  

Nika went on, calm and certain. “Your team at Fudd Holdings? The people in that company would walk through fire if you asked them. Half of them already have. They don’t speak to you like a boss because they’re afraid. They do it because they respect you. Deeply.” 

Nika paused, her voice dropping into something quieter, more certain. “And the Valkyries… you think they’re waiting for a reason to question you, but they’re not. Some of them put the pieces together, I’m sure. But they kept it to themselves. Because they know who you are. You didn’t build that team on ego or impulse. You drafted Paige because she’s the best guard available, because you want banners on the wall, not headlines in the tabloids. They respect that. They respect you.” 

Azzi’s shoulders slumped. The weight hadn’t lifted, but Nika’s words carved out enough space to breathe. The kind of space she hadn’t allowed herself in weeks. 

Nika held her close, arms wrapped around Azzi with the kind of steadiness that never asked for permission. She stayed, anchoring Azzi in a moment that allowed her to let go just enough. 

Azzi leaned into it, her cheek brushing Nika’s shoulder as her voice came in a low, strained breath. “She said she loves me.” 

The words sat between them, fragile but heavy. Nika tightened her hold slightly. 

“We talked earlier,” Azzi continued, the edges of her composure softening. “It caught me off guard. I’ve spent so much time trying to keep this under control, trying to keep her from getting too close. But then she says that, and suddenly everything I’ve been holding back crashes in.” 

Her throat worked around the next part. “I didn’t know how to stay. I’ve never known what to do with something that feels that real. So I did the only thing I could. I told her we had to stop.” 

She pulled back just enough to see Nika’s face, her own expression unguarded. “I thought it would protect us. That if I ended it, I could keep us safe from the fallout. But all it did was leave me standing there, feeling like I just stepped out of something I might never find again.” 

Nika studied her, the way only someone who had seen Azzi in every version of herself could. 

"Az, you’re not bulletproof. You never were. You just got real good at pretending to be.” 

She reached for Azzi’s hand and held it between both of hers. 

“You didn’t lose your grip. You let yourself feel something, and now it scares the hell out of you. That’s not failure. That’s human. And you’re allowed to be that. Even if you don’t know what to do next. Even if you think you messed it up.” 

Azzi’s breath caught, her shoulders lifting in a futile attempt to keep it together, but the weight had been pressing in too long. Her face folded as the first tear broke past her defenses, then another. She leaned forward, eyes glassed and unfocused, like the ground had been slipping beneath her for weeks and only now had she looked down. 

Her voice cracked, raw and barely audible. “I don’t know what to do anymore.” 

“Just cry and let it all out, babe.”  

- 

Chase Center Arena, San Francisco. September 2025. 

The room hummed with anticipation, reporters pressing forward beneath the harsh glare of cameras and bright lights. Paige sat at the head of the table. Questions about the game came swiftly, voices overlapping with excitement and urgency. 

Then a sharp voice cut through the noise.  

“Paige, there’s been a photo circulating online that has caught everyone’s attention. Can you tell us who the other person is?” 

Paige’s breath faltered for a moment, but her expression stayed composed.  

She met the questioner’s gaze directly, voice steady and calm. “I appreciate the interest, but I’m here to talk about the team’s success and the hard work behind it. My focus remains on the game and the players who made this win possible.” 

A few murmurs rippled through the crowd as cameras clicked rapidly.

Another reporter pressed, “Is it someone we know? Or someone connected to the team?” 

Paige’s lips curved into a polite, guarded smile. “I’m not at liberty to discuss personal matters. Right now, the priority is celebrating what we’ve achieved together.” 

She took a breath, then added with genuine warmth, “But let me have this opportunity to say that she’s an amazing person. The world is lucky to have her grace us with her presence. So I hope the media and everyone can respect her privacy. She deserves that much—just to be seen as a person, not a headline.” Her voice carried a quiet but firm resolve, grounding her words in both care and conviction. 

- 

Golden State Valkyries Charity Gala, San Francisco. September 2025. 

The convention center buzzed with muted excitement, a flowing crowd of elegant guests beneath crystal chandeliers. Azzi moved through the room with deliberate grace, her luxurious black dress sculpting her figure with quiet power. Every step felt like a careful performance, one she could not afford to falter in. 

Across the room, Paige stood among the Valkyries, her tailored suit sharp against the sea of gowns and tuxedos. She laughed with her teammates, but her eyes betrayed a restless focus, drifting toward the entrance, searching for Azzi. 

When Azzi caught sight of Paige, the familiar pull inside her tightened, a mixture of longing and hesitation she kept carefully locked away.  

The press swarmed around them, filling the space with flashing cameras and intrusive questions, but neither could look away. 

Azzi answered inquiries about her business ventures with measured calm, though each word felt distant. Her thoughts kept returning to Paige’s poised figure, the way she carried herself with an ease that both unsettled and captivated her. 

Paige kept her attention on her team, though the tension coiled beneath her skin. Every time her eyes met Azzi’s across the crowded room, a silent conversation passed between them. 

- 

Paige’s apartment, Oakland. September 2025. 

The television screen glowed blue across the walls, a paused replay of their last home game frozen in place. Paige lay across the couch, one leg draped over the armrest, the other bent at the knee. Her socks were mismatched. 

Her phone rested on her chest. Every few minutes, she picked it up and stared at the same screen.  

Azzi’s contact hovered near the top of her recents, untouched since the night they ended things. 

Paige tapped the message box. Her thumbs hesitated. 

I miss you. 

She stared at it. Too simple. Too soft.  

She deleted it. 

Typed again. 

I still wear your stupid expensive hoodie. I don’t know why. It smells like you, and I think that makes me feel worse. 

Delete. 

She tried something else. 

You made me feel seen, even when you were pushing me away. I know you think you’re protecting me. But you’re not. You’re just protecting the version of yourself that never learned how to stay. 

Her hand dropped to her stomach. She exhaled slowly, eyes stinging. The message sat there, waiting for her to commit. She didn’t move. 

Her thumb hovered, trembling slightly. Then she erased the entire thing. 

She set the phone face down on the couch beside her and stared at the ceiling. Her hand rested over her ribs, right where the ache sat thickest. The city outside kept moving, streetlights flaring against the walls, cars groaning past. But inside, everything stilled into something tight and quiet and sore. 

After a while, she reached for the phone again.  

No new messages.  

She opened their thread. It looked untouched, but the weight behind each message pressed back at her like pressure behind glass. 

She started typing again. 

I wish you’d let me fight for you. 

She let the cursor blink. 

And then she deleted it too. 

- 

Fudd Private Estate, Northern California. September 2025.  

The gates of the Fudd estate closed behind her with a low hum, but Azzi remained still in the back seat, her eyes fixed on the gravel drive ahead.  

The car rolled forward slowly, trees arching overhead, their summer leaves shifting in a breeze that made her eyelids heavier. Sleep tugged at her like a weight around her ribs. She had not given into it all week. 

The house stood as it always had—elegant, composed, unchanging. But as she stepped out of the car, her reflection in the side mirror gave her pause. She adjusted the collar of her coat, though it had already fallen into place. The gesture was less about neatness than control. 

Inside, the scent of roasted garlic and fresh herbs greeted her. Her mother always cooked on Sundays. Even when she didn’t expect guests. The dining room doors were open, letting in the early afternoon light that spilled in sharp angles across the table. 

Her mother looked up from where she was placing a serving dish down. Surprise flickered across her features, then gave way to concern as she looked Azzi over. 

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” she said, taking in her daughter’s drawn face, the shadows beneath her eyes. “Or maybe ten.” 

Azzi kissed her cheek lightly before sitting at the far end of the table. “I’ve been working,” she said. She unfolded her napkin with slow precision, focusing on the motion instead of her mother’s expression. 

“I can see that.” Her mother sat across from her, one brow arched. “The work must be tremendous to strip you down like this.” 

Azzi gave a small shrug and reached for the water. “Tremendous is one word for it.” 

They ate for a few minutes in the kind of calm that came with practiced familiarity. Forks against porcelain. The soft clink of glass. Her mother watched her with the kind of attention that made evasion impossible. 

“You used to come here to rest,” she said, her voice low but certain. “But you look more tired than when you left the city. This kind of pace only serves the fire until it burns you with it.” 

Azzi chewed, swallowed, and reached for a piece of bread she wasn’t sure she wanted. “It’s just work.” 

Her mother gave her a look that said she knew better but would wait for the truth to come on its own. “Then let work stay outside these walls. You came home for a reason. Even if you don’t want to say it yet.” 

Azzi toyed with the edge of her napkin, folding it once, then again, pressing the seam with a steady hand that felt anything but steady. Across from her, her mother waited. Her silence held no pressure, only the kind of calm that invited honesty without demanding it. 

Azzi stared down at her plate, then pushed it slightly away. Her appetite had vanished, if it had ever been there at all. She drew a slow breath and spoke, her voice level but threaded with something fragile. 

“I met someone.” 

Her mother stayed still, but Azzi caught the way her gaze sharpened with focus, a quiet shift that said she was listening more closely now. 

“She’s loud. She talks with her whole body and never waits to be invited into a room. She eats like she’s got three games a day, leaves her shoes wherever she kicks them off, and has an opinion about everything, even the things that don’t concern her.” 

A pause. 

“She is everything I am not.” 

Azzi’s mouth twisted slightly, but there was a softness behind it. The memory of something recent. 

“I tried to keep my distance. I thought she’d eventually get bored, that she’d lose interest in someone who reads the market before breakfast and keeps her life on a spreadsheet. But she didn’t leave. She kept showing up. In her own way. Loud, stubborn, and always smiling like she knew some secret I hadn’t figured out yet.” 

Her hand dropped to the table. 

“She’s the chaos in my structure. And somehow, instead of pushing me over the edge, she makes the fall feel manageable.” 

Her eyes lifted to her mother’s, quieter now, not with defeat but with truth. 

“She pulls me into this world I’ve never had room for. I keep resisting it, stepping back when it feels too far from what I know. But then she says something or laughs or looks at me like I matter more than all of it, and I feel still. I feel calm in a way that terrifies me, because it doesn’t make sense. Nothing about her should feel safe, but she does.” 

Her mother leaned back in her chair, watching her with the same patience she used to show when Azzi was a girl unraveling her shoelaces in frustration. Her voice came steady and warm. 

“What’s wrong with meeting someone like that?” she asked, chin tilted slightly, eyes knowing. 

Azzi’s jaw tensed. She looked down at her hands, fingers laced too tightly together. “She plays for my team. That alone is a big complication.” 

Her mother’s brow lifted, a slow grin creeping across her face. “The LGBTQ team?” 

Azzi huffed, the sound sharp but laced with something unwillingly amused. She dragged a hand down her face, not hiding the eye-roll that followed. “You’re impossible.” 

“I’m hilarious,” her mother replied, reaching for her tea with the poise of someone deeply pleased with herself. “And I just want to see my daughter laugh. You don’t do that enough these days.” 

Azzi pressed her thumb to the edge of her plate. She looked up slowly, the hint of a smile forming, not quite reaching full strength but trying. “It’s not that simple.” 

“I didn’t say it was. But love never is. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth the mess.” 

“You do realize how inappropriate it is to suggest having myself involved with someone under contract with my organization?” 

“Darling, she’s an athlete. You own the team. You’re not exactly her shift supervisor.” 

“I drafted her. I fund her salary. My signature is on half her contracts. And my last name is printed on everything the team wears. That counts.” 

Her mother sipped her tea with maddening calm. “You’re saying you’re afraid people will think she’s only playing for you because you like the way she looks in shorts.” 

Azzi’s sigh was audible. “I’m saying the optics are complicated.” 

“That’s not what you’re saying.” Her mother’s lips curled. “You’re saying you care about her, and that scares the hell out of you. So you’re clinging to technicalities like they’re policy manuals.” 

Azzi glanced away, jaw tightening. “My position requires everything to be responsible, professional, and calculated.” 

Her mother leaned forward slightly, tone gentler now. “Let me ask you something, my darling. When you look at this girl, when you see her name in your emails or schedule, or walk into a room and find her already there… do you feel steadier, or more lost?” 

Azzi's throat constricted. Her breath stuck somewhere in the middle.  

She hadn’t expected the question to land where it did. It wasn’t about rules or reputations, contracts or careers.  

It was personal. Painfully so. 

Her mother smiled, the kind of smile that came from watching your child fight the same wars you once did. “Sometimes the point isn’t to feel in control. Sometimes it’s to feel seen. You have every tool in the world to build distance, but what happens when someone finally closes it, and you don’t hate how it feels?” 

Azzi’s posture faltered, her shoulders curving inward like the words had taken the wind out of her spine. Her voice came out thinner than she liked. “It feels like a risk I don’t know how to take.” 

Her mother set her cup down with careful precision, then met Azzi’s eyes with quiet certainty. “You’ve mastered everything except letting yourself be known. At some point, you have to ask if protecting the life you’ve built is worth missing out on the one that could make you feel alive.” 

[canisalbus]

i decided today was as good a day as any other to learn how to 3d sculpt and then trace and animate the model…

so i made a little machete to spin in my head

(i still want to fix the snout length a little so it looks consistent, but i feel like it’s a pretty good first attempt at this)

hope you have a nice day and nicer ones to come! :)

.

[madamechrissy]

If I didn't Know Better

Pairings - Sylus x f! reader

Summary - You are arranged married to the powerful Sylus, sight unseen- and the moment you meet him, the two of you butt heads. He seems so arrogant and self sure, and he sees you as a bratty little Kitten - but that first night changes everything. Your duty is to make heirs, but Sylus gives you the choice - not to be with him for duty, but because you choose to. You both find yourselves interested to learn more and more- but just because it's good, does it mean you're in love?

Warnings- NSFW- This is SO smutty, fluffy, cute and sweet! Arranged marriage trope, a lil bit enemies to lovers, oral (f and m receiving) explicit sex, Sylus calling you Kitten and sweetie bc YES, teasing, asking for consent ofccc, talking you through it, getting 'tied up', cervix kissing, riding Sylus and making him whimper, lil bit of a spit kink hehe - you know there's a breed kink - happy endinggg - oneshot- wc- 11k!

Based on the Arranged Husband Sylus headcanons! Happy birthday to my Aries Dragon <3 Comments/rbs appreciated if you enjoy!

The rustle of silk and the clicking of your heels along the marble floor is the only sound that seems real as you descend the altar steps, as your pounding heartbeat resonates in your ears and drowns out the organs playing in the background. The dress you wore was a pristine white, along with a ruby red brooch that the attendants had pinned on your bodice, and fuck it feels heavy, a weight of the truth.

You’re about to be his.

You’re going to belong to him, a stranger. You eye him across the room in a bit of a daze, as eager onlookers study you, as if every step you make is being assessed. You can barely breathe with the pressure, let alone comprehend that you're about to marry a stranger you have only heard rumors of.

Sylus.

His name echoes in your mind, a dark, enigmatic man - some know him as a philanthropist, but rumors are there is much more to him. The dark interior of this grand hall, all reds and blacks and antique, are a stark contrast to the soft, romantic notions usually associated with weddings. You wear white, and it’s even more of a contrast to what is happening around you.

You had dreams of a day where you’d fall in love, you were still young, at least too young to marry in your opinion, you’re twenty four, and that to you is still plenty of time to find love. Though, your work tended to leave you always on assignments, always busy before this, so love was not on your mind. But the choice being taken away from you is hard to swallow.

You didn’t have parents to talk to about this, just a guardian who’d arranged this long ago. You have no clue just what you’re getting into, are the dangerous rumors true, is he ruthless? The leader of a dark, underground crime ring, or are they mere fiction, and he’s the sweet, generous hero of the N109?

This isn't a romance. This is an arrangement. You must do your duty.

Duty, always duty.

As you finally stand before him, endless steps across the elegant hall, your gaze instinctively locks onto the figure before you, and your heart skips just a beat. To say he was handsome was an understatement, the man in front of you is much more. Sylus is breathtaking, a sculpted masterpiece of sharp angles and striking features that you’ve never encountered. 

He’s insanely tall, towering over you and everyone in this room, silently watching behind their masks, as if this were a masquerade. Sylus is wearing a blood-red suit screams power, and mirrors the color of his ruby eyes, god those eyes, lidded and framed with dark lashes, in contrast to silver locks. Those eyes that seem to pierce through you now, glinting in the dim lights.

His lips part just a bit, full and glossy, as his insane eyes are assessing, judging, dragging them down your face, and across your body, you feel it so vividly- like a fucking caress. God he is beautiful, undeniably so, but a chilling undercurrent of danger radiates from him, causing your fingers to tighten around the bouquet, the mix of black and red roses.

You’ve heard whispers, rumors that paint him as the richest man alive, a titan of industry, and a force to be reckoned with. You knew you were marrying into power, but the reality of it is far more overwhelming than any briefing could have prepared you for, money is one thing, this was quite another, intense power and energy unlike anything you’ve ever encountered.

Sylus frowns at you, feigning disinterest, but he loves beautiful things, his manor is full of the finest jewels, rarities from centuries prior, and the finest art. The finest music, anything beautiful was something he collected, and of course he enjoyed a beautiful woman, but nothing quite has prepared him for you and just how stunned you’d have him.

You’re trembling just a bit as you tilt your head up, the brooch settled right on your intricate bodice, he watches your breasts rise and fall with your nerves, perfect and silken skin, pressed up high from the corset of the gown. Sylus tenses just a bit, he hadn’t expected this, this beauty of yours was not exaggerated, no perhaps it was understated.

Your eyes are full of apprehension, of fear, but they’re gorgeous how they glitter under your lashes, your lips stained with the same ruby red that adorned those roses, as if they themselves had stained them. Your body is perfect in its silhouette, you’re so small compared to him, most people are of course- his neck hurts from constantly having to look down at others with his huge frame.

But this was different.

He has a vivid image of just how easy it would be to pick you up like you’re nothing, to carry you and sit you right on his bed. Your scent, something so familiar yet foreign, fills his nostrils, as intoxicating as your beauty. For a moment he can’t even think of just a word to describe you, he planned to complain about the wait, he needed this done with after all, the loss of some of his freedoms.

But he finds it hard to think when you’re right here.

Then you notice it, you see on his shoulder as something lands, drawing your attention in the eerily quiet hall. Perched on his shoulder, a mechanical crow sits, its metallic eyes blinking with what appears to be genuine confusion, a gold coin in its beak.

"What's a crow doing here?" The words escape your lips before you can filter them. It was a genuine question, born out of surprise and a desperate attempt to break the suffocating tension and quiet, but big mistake.

His reaction is immediately full of irritation, his gaze hardens, and you feel the full force of his displeasure. It's clear: you've committed some grave fucking offense.

"Don't dare disrespect Mephisto." He growls, the first words you hear from him, and god if the man’s voice isn’t as sexy as it was intimidating,  a deep, raspy rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

Is that desire or fear!?

Both!?

You feel the heat in your cheeks now, as others murmur around you, going on about ‘how dare you offend your husband like that’ which just makes you curse internally. The room was filled with those who orchestrated this union, the judging faces all around you. The very room seems to shrink around you, practically suffocating with all these fucking eyes on you, it seems one comment and you’ve already offended everyone here.

Including the irritated, arrogant man in front of you, as Sylus himself fixes you with a glare that could melt steel. "Now, on with the wedding. You’re late."

Late!? You are on time, holy fuck you’d been preened and done up like some stupid damn doll, and he has the audacity to call you late!? You feel it now, the anger and annoyance, because really fuck this, not only has the man got a crow cawing and flapping at you, he’s going to also be a whole dick?

"I am not late! I'm on time!" You stomp your foot just so, as he scoffs, raising a thin silver brow.

“We’ve been waiting, and I hate to be kept waiting.” You roll your eyes, arms crossed under your breasts.

“I’m here now, let’s just get on with it.”

“Lets,” comes his bored tone, a dismissive sound met with it that only ignites your irritation at this man’s audacity. He turns to the masked man holding an enormous, faded black book. “On with it.” 

Is that all he had to say?

This man.

The ceremony proceeds in a blur, a fucking whirlwind as you panic now, the crow cawing it’s agreement, and you see Sylus actually smile - at the fucking crow - as if he’s marrying him instead, while the priest's words are an echo. You barely focus when the vows are exchanged, Sylys couldn’t look more bored.

The thing was, he didn’t seem cruel. Just so bored!

As if this is exciting for you, you’re giving up your entire life. The exchange of your vows feels so empty, just going through the motions, you’re in your head completely, imagining a life with a stranger. One who likes a damn crow better than you already - snapping out of it only with the touch of his hand.

When he touches you for the first time?

He’s not just annoying, or pompous, or arrogant, he feels good.

Fuck him for that.

He pauses too, the tingles of your hands exchanged, making him tense up, as he struggles to focus, eyeing your little hand being held by his - something feels perfect, it feels natural, like it’s always been there. He pauses completely, Mephitsto is holding the ring in his beak, a black ring of obsidian and rubies, one he’s had for far longer than he’d admit.

Now it’s going on one of your pretty little fingers.

Your eyes met his, they were so full of fire, determination and anger despite how small you are in his comparison, cute like some… kitten. An angry kitten who thinks she has claws, but then, you seem to have them, nails filed all pointy and painted blood red, doing erratic things as he thinks of having them…

Why is he thinking this way?

It’s an arrangement.

Sylus would not be cruel or treat you poorly, but he surely wasn’t going to enjoy you, having his choice taken and being forced to just have heirs, as archaic as he himself is. “Gonna do it?” You make him glare again with your bratty little question, even as your hand trembles in his.

“Tch. Impatient little thing, aren’t you?” Your eyes narrow, while he slips the ring onto your finger. The metal feels cold against your skin, fuck it feels heavy, you’re looking at it carefully, eyes now meeting his, the same ruby as your ring and your damn brooch.

Like he owns you - but you guess, he does.

Now, you’re bound to Sylus, forever and that weighs so heavy you can hardly breathe - forever with a stranger. Not for love, no, a contract, with a man you don't know, a man who already seems to dislike you. Fuck, you’re tied to a man with a mechanical crow that won’t stop cawing, while Sylus acts so casual, like nothing even happened, hands in his pockets, bored look on perfect features.

“Let’s go, I guess. Come now.” The dismissive gesture is not met with holding your hand, leading you, no, just a fucking look with eyes that bore through you. “Going to keep me waiting?”

This man!?

Soon you’re stepping - rather than being romantically carried - over that threshold, right into Sylu’s decadent mansion, as imposing as it is beautiful. He does have your luggage, the few important things that you’ve brought, handing them to two large masked men, whose eyes are following you behind those masks eerily. ‘Mephisto’ or the mechanical crow, is flying forward.

You swear the crow tells you to fuck off in his own language.

You glare at it, only for it to ‘caw, caw’ at you, and Sylus’s perfect, gorgeous face - damn him  - to look at you with an arched brow. “This way, or you’ll get lost.”

You follow him, his dress shoes glimmering as they click on his marble floor, looking at your surroundings, draped in elegance, his mansion is impeccable, gothic in fact. You peer around at the choices of black and red everywhere, there are no bright tones aside from bright rubies glinting, and the elegant chandeliers that catch your attention overhead.

Roaring fires crackle and fill it with warmth, something from so long ago, almost homey in an otherwise cold, gloomy manor, the home screams Sylus truly. He snatches up a bottle of red and one glass as the two of you pass his massive banquet hall, you suppose it’s a dining room but is basically a banquet hall. He glances at you, arrogant brow up, you want to smack his pretty face.

“Am I drinking from the bottle?” You earn his smirk.

“You want some of my wine, then?”

“What sort of host are you!?”

“You’re not a guest. More like a pest.” You scoff as he picks up another glass, with the greatest effort, clearly annoyed by your existence. “Come, then.”

You’re already tired of following him, passing those large men again, who are laughing softly and whispering at each other. “You have a mechanical crow and two weirdos living here, huh?”

“Weirdos!? Boss!” One of them says, but Sylus actually laughs softly, god that sound is way too pleasing, shaking his head and continuing to walk with his stupidly long legs, as you try to keep up.

“You’ll get lost if you don’t walk faster, sweetie.” His tone is so mocking, so annoying it drives you even more crazy, as you rush through the halls of the elegant manor, footsteps softly echoing.

“I have heels on, you know.” You’re lifting your dress up, ascending another stupid flight of stairs, trying not to notice just how nice your husband’s backside was with a flush- did the pants have to be that tight?

“You can take them off when we get to our chambers.” Finally you both get to a huge wooden double doors, where Sylus opens them with a heavy creak, as you blink in confusion.

“Our chambers? Who has chambers anymore? I… oh…” When he reveals the enormous, beautiful room you realize why it’s called that way. Soft red plush rugs over marble floors, a fireplace that he roars to life with a fucking snap - four post bed big enough for several people, black beams with a black thin curtain around them.

You blush as you do focus on that bed, its velvet blood red blankets and silky golden pillows, like something you’d expect in Dracula’s castle.

Was Sylus a vampire?

He looks like one.

Your eyes narrow, studying him then, eyeing the bottle of red. Was it blood?

“You’re staring, sweetie.” He murmurs, even though his back is turned, and he’s opening the wine bottle with a satisfying pop.

“You wish.” He chuckles once more, while you take in the rest of the room, sleek sleek dark wood furniture and high ceilings, some mix of ancient and modern that shouldn’t make sense, but it does.

“Your stare is intense.” You roll your eyes, leaning against a long side table to ease off each heel carefully, sighing in relief as you do. “I bought you a wardrobe, it’s right in that dresser.”

“A wardrobe? How would you even know…”

“Think I didn’t know about you?” Sylus eyes you now, they’re glinting, the fire casting shadows of his long, tall figure across the expanse of the room, shadows enveloping you, while you stand there, heat blooming across your cheeks.

“Did they give you all the statistics first?” Your question is full of venom, but for some reason you still scream kitten to his mind.

“Go get in something comfortable, there is a bathroom right there.” He pours two glasses of dark cabernet then, as you tentatively go to the dresser, blushing when you see the top drawer, filled with black lingerie. “Something wrong?”

“N-no.”

You’re to have his heirs, that’s the whole purpose, marrying the heir to her own fortune - though much, much less than Sylus’s - to the richest, most powerful man. To have a family and babies was good for his image, and of course everyone must have pressed him to do this as well, but you wonder then, would he even want to do that with you tonight?

“You don’t have to put them on, there are pajamas in the next drawer over.” You clear your throat just a bit, opening that drawer, seeing black and red silk, running your fingers gently over them, feeling the smooth texture as you peer in the mirror, and catch him eyeing you for a moment.

“You really like red, huh?” You see his smirk in the reflection, as you take the red silky slip and pull it out, delicate lace running across the neck.

“You could say so.”

“I um… could you unlace me?” Your words shoot through him then, he has never been nervous around anyone, not a man with his power, and as long as he remembers he has always been at ease with women.

You do something quite irritating.

His hand almost cracks his favorite wine glass, while you wait, brushing your hair to one side, and he slowly steps behind you. “Kitten, can’t even undress, hmm?”

“Kitten!?” You glare at him as he tugs on one of the laces, jerking you just a bit with the force, deepening your scowl.

“You’re an angry little kitten, who thinks her tiny meows are intimidating. Hmm…” He further tugs, stepping back a bit as you eye him in the mirror, biting back a gasp when you’re unlaced, and he traces his fingers down your spine. Your tummy clenches, breath catching as he does, body reacting so intensely it makes no sense. “Was too tightly laced…”

His murmur is met with him touching the criss cross marks left behind, imprinted on your delicate skin, eyeing the goosebumps that rise then, as he imagines everything he’d like to do to you. The urge to kiss your annoying mouth for the first time is almost too strong and vivid, followed by kissing every mark left by your corset. You shiver a bit, and he catches your eyes, his own dilating - almost black.

“Something wrong? You’re all unlaced now.” You pull yourself together, blinking rapidly and turning, far, far too close to this man, his hand suspended in the air, exhaling slowly, as you clutch the pajamas tightly to yourself.

“Nothing, um, over there?” He nods, when your top slips down just a bit, revealing too much of your breasts, your shoulders, he has to stop himself from touching them, stiffening just a bit.

Though he was furious he was forced into this marriage, he has to admit looking at you all the time was not something he’d dare complain about, even glaring you’re far too pretty. You back away, turning, clutching the dress, giving him far too much of a view of your skin, and he has to clutch that dresser, shutting his eyes as he feels it.

He’s hard looking at your back.

He curses softly, willing it to go down but nevertheless failing, waking back over to grab his glass of wine and sipping it, letting the rich flavor hit his tongue, shutting his eyes to push back all of the thoughts when you come out. He sees you in it, the red silk slip of material, your nipples pressed against it, as if they’re begging for his mouth to suck on them.

You stand in front of him, taking the proffered glass, and that’s when Sylus almost spits out his drink, as you down the little bit in one gulp. “Do you know what vintage that is!?”

“You’re stupidly rich, it’s fine.” You grab his bottle and pour more, he smacks your hand like you’re some bad child, making you laugh just a bit. “It’s yummy.”

“You’re supposed to savor it, tch.” You drink this a little slower, tilting your head now.

“We should get this over with, right?”

“Excuse me!?” His deep voice gets raspy, ruby eyes narrowing while you shrug just a bit, a little wine dripping down your lip, wiping it and wrecking his mind.

“Making an heir. The sooner we do it, the better, right?” He almost loses it, as you down the glass again.

“That’s a two hundred dollar gulp, Kitten.”

“Hmm, it’s tasty - crow.” You both scowl again, he sets his glass down angrily, and that’s when you feel that power of his again - intense and beautiful - it makes you pause for a moment, before you set your glass as well, turning. “So we should get on with it, right?”

“Get on with it!?” He sputters, you are by far the most insolent creature he has ever met.

“Yes, I know what we are here for, let’s not pretend with each other, all right?” You’re shaking even as you speak, when his hand brushes against your arm, and the light hairs raise from the contact, your tummy clenching.

“You’re cute, Kitten.”

“Stop calling me Kitten, Crow.”

“You know what to do then, hmm?” You nod shyly, when he lifts you suddenly, making you gasp, hoisting you on one fucking arm like you’re nothing, walking you over to his bed now. He tosses you in the middle then, leaned over you, his dress shirt falling gently open, revealing his strong, pale chest, as your heart races.

You can’t answer him, not when he laughs at you, so mocking, right in your face, and two of his hands grip your delicate wrists, pushing them over your head. You bite back a whine, you shouldn’t be soaking wet already, what the fuck was this man doing to you? You struggle to keep your composure, feeling his thick, hard length pressing under his slacks, making you flush.

He seems to notice his effects, as he leans down too close, heavy weight pressing you further into the soft mattress. “Are you scared, sweetie?”

You manage that glare again, but almost moan when you speak, just barely holding it back. “N-no. I’m fine, just do it and then let me get some sleep. I’m tired, you know.”

“Ah, I see, you think this would be quick, that’s cute.” He sighs now, releasing your wrists, leaning on an elbow and slipping his hand down your waist, slipping under your silk shirt, touching all your skin on your waist, humming quietly to himself. He wants to whisper of your beauty, but holds himself back, instead smirking so mockingly at you.

“Sylus just-” He slams his lips down on yours then, plush and firm, and your thighs grip his hips, as you sigh into them, your hands gripping his luxe blankets. He delves his tongue inside your parted lips, hot and messy and nothing like you’ve ever felt before - making your tummy flip with desire.

“Just what?” He murmurs softly, eyes lit up so bright it’s difficult to even look at, sighing now as he studies your body slowly, thumb brushing your nipple over your soft silk, bringing it to tighten and press harder on the fabric. You cry out before you can stop it, and the sound ends him.

But as badly as he wants to fuck you?

He won’t if it’s not your choice, if it’s to ‘get it over with’. He’ll only do this if you beg for it, writhing under him soaking wet, and even then, you have to want it, for more than your situation. He doesn’t tell you just yet, because god he is loving toying with you, eyeing you under dark lashes as he unbuttons your shirt, one by one, maintaining his casual stance as he throbs for you.

Fuck his cock twitches when he reveals one of your perfect, pretty breasts, breath ghosting over the sensitive nipple. “What are you… doing, I- ah!”

You’re gripping his silken hair before you could think any better, pulling at his roots, while he sucks your nipple into his hot, hungry mouth, making your cunt gush until he can fucking feel it, your heat, even over his clothes. Your back arches, bringing your cunt further against him, he almost shakes with how badly he is filled with the need to take you, barely holding himself in.

“You seem to enjoy this a lot for wanting to ‘get it over with’. Hmm?” You don’t acknowledge him, letting go of his hair only to grip it again as he sucks your other nipple into his mouth, hand trailing over your tummy, feeling it tremble under his touch. “Something wrong, sweetie?”

“No… I just… ngh…” He’s brushing his fingers over your hot, slick pussy, groaning out as he does, eyeing you while he balances himself over you.

“Awfully wet for your duty, aren’t you?” You glare again, just making Sylus grin, white teeth glinting as he kisses down your body, tasting your sweetness, lapping a trail down the valley between your breasts, kissing lower and lower, his hands now on your waist as your thighs tremble.

“What are you doing?” He laughs again, against your skin, making it tickle, you’re getting wetter just from that, your entire body reacting to every soft brush of his lips along your skin.

“I enjoy playing with my food a bit, before I eat my meal.” Your shorts are slid down your thighs now, you’re closing them just a bit as he sees all of you, so intimate you can’t make some witty reply.

“A meal?” Your weak little squeak would amuse him if he wasn’t staring at the prettiest pussy he’s seen, fuck even it’s like art to him. He thumbs your plump lips apart, watching the slutty little hole pouring wetness out of it, making him groan, inhaling you and sighing. “Are you like sniffing me, just get up here and- oh, oh I-”

Your words are cut off as his tongue slips up your slit then, you cry out at how fucking good it feels, hot eager tongue slipping up and collecting the juices there- then when he tastes you, his nostrils flare, lips glossy from you. His hands grip and press into your thighs, losing the tentative control he has with just how sweet his bride happens to be.

“You taste so sweet for a bratty little thing.” He smirks, those glossy lips shimmering with you, and you can only blush in response, breaths so fast you feel yourself overheating. “So quiet suddenly, where’s all that talk, hmm?”

Your only words are muffled moans as you try to cover your mouth, screaming out when his tongue laps at you again, this time on your clit, moaning as you feel it, sensitive, twitching in response. Suddenly your arms are bound by swirling red energy, thrown over your head, and he chuckles at your expression - eyes already fucked out, mouth open in a gasp.

“What is this, your… evol?” You’re not well versed with this sort of thing - you’ve only heard things. He chuckles, breath alone making your clit twitch in response, which he avidly stares at now, humming to himself as he spreads you wider.

“I’d like to hear those moans, so I need you to stop covering them. Now…” He drags your ass closer, you feel the lines of his teeth as they’re against your cunt, and you’re already dangerously close. “Has anyone drank you, kitten?”

“Drank me!? I… oh fuck, fuck!” You’re whining as he teases you, body twisting under his firm hold, his fingers are pressing into the plush of your inner thighs, slurping you up then - yes, drinking you - as if you’re wine he’s downing, except that he’d sip, not devour.

“Oh you love it, don’t you? Thought you wanted to get it over with, but she’s soaking wet f’me.” Sylus fucks you with his tongue then, your gummy walls fluttering around his wet muscle, as you feel the very texture inside you, yanking at your own arms and gritting your teeth not to scream.

You fail completely.

Letting go and hoping those two men weren’t just - what listening, or that damn crow wasn’t somewhere cawing about this - your hoarse cries echo in his enormous, elegant room, mixing with the crackling of that fireplace and Sylus’s loud moans while he sips every bit of you up. His tongue fucks you, long, so long, while he eyes you, red ruby eyes glinting with hunger.

“What is… you are… oh my…” You’re getting toppled over that goddamn edge now, when his straight, perfect nose bumps your engorged clit, and he curls his tongue up, you can’t stop it, your orgasm starts in your tummy, hot and torturous before it spreads through every inch of your body. “Sylus!”

Sylus pulls back finally, licking his lips, you flush as you see the mess you’ve made of his perfect features, when he grins down at you, psychotically hot, and you’re so disoriented you can barely understand. “And do you like fingers buried inside you, sweetie?” He asks, you just bite that lip one more time, nodding.

He shoves two fingers inside you, studying your face like a predator would his fucking prey, groaning as he watches you now, feeling your quivering hole gripping and spasming around his lengthy fingers. You’re so ready for him it’s ridiculous, imagining him naked- god you can feel those muscles, that cock.

He’s got you cumming again like it’s nothing for him, like he’s in twenty minutes figured out your body better than you do. You’re writhing under him, crying from the force of them, of cumming over and over as he watches with pure delight, dying for more, to feel him so deep, but you can’t even articulate it.

“So beautiful like this,” he’s sucking on those fingers, cheeks hollowing, moaning again at your taste, when he lets go of your wrists, and you respond by pressing your nails into his back over his dress shirt, earning his moan. “Sharp little claws.”

“Fuck, I’m ready please no more teasing… I c-can’t take it…” he sighs then, standing and confusing you. He waltzes over to grab wine then, sauntering back to you with a sway of his hips, though you see it - the huge outline of his cock. “Sylus, I said I’m ready.”

“For your duty, right?” You hadn’t even thought of duty, of anything but him then, you try to focus, clearing your throat, when he tilts your chin up, your hair falling back, lidded gaze on him. “No, I’ll sink my cock inside that pretty cunt when you ask me too, not because you have to.”

God what is this man!?

You just blink as he leans down, fingers gripping your chin, taking the glass of wine and pressing it to his lips. “You’re… wanting me to decide?”

“Mmhmm. Open that pretty mouth.” You do as he says, how can you not? And he sips that wine then, humming as he leans over, pouring the wine in your mouth from his, you swallow it down, the action itself causing that ache to build. He pulls back as you look up, wiping a droplet from your lips. “So you can listen.”

“I… huh? You… aren’t you sleeping in here?” You ask softly, he sighs then, pressing a kiss far too sweet to your forehead.

“I sleep during the day mostly,” is he a vampire!? “But I’ll lay with you when you want me to as well, not until then. I expect an answer when I get back.”

“What, like how long?” You hop up, dressing quickly, and he pauses at the door, looking back at you.

“Less than a week, I had to put the mission on hold for the wedding. When I’m back, you let me know what you decide - my role as your husband.”

He leaves then, and you feel empty without him, cold even, stumbling over to his expensive, fancy wine, about to gulp it down, then sighing, sipping it instead, looking at the fire still roaring. You pull up a seat, sitting in front of it and watching as the flames lick and snap, thinking of the man you’ve just married.

Who is he?

*****

You’re trying to actually go out, tired of getting lost in Sylus’s mansion a few days later, and you swear he’s cursed it at first, you couldn’t find the damn front door for days! His staff makes sure you have everything you need, but you’re alone, nothing but a phone Sylus bought you, with one damn number- his.

He texts you mockingly the next couple days, as you finally get the two men - Luke and Kieran - to escort you out, so you can breathe fresh air, but they just follow you like lost puppies- as Mephisto circles overhead. Every time you look at something they’re just buying it for you.

“I didn’t even-”

“Can’t make the boss look bad.” Luke scolds, buying you a pretty bracelet that you’d just touched.

“Not with all these eyes.” Kieran agrees, and you touch a little rose, cursing as he buys that now too. “Everyone knows the boss.”

“Caw!”

“Mephisto I didn’t ask you!” You scowl at the crow, and it flaps its wings at you, cawing even angrier. You finally get your phone out, video calling the only number, surprised when he actually answers.

“I’m busy, what is it?” He says, and you take in his surroundings, likely some fancy suite as he sits with his gun.

“Busy? Not a way to greet your wife.” He rolls his ruby eyes now.

“Mmm, and what does my wife need?”

“To know why are these two bozos following me everywhere I go and watching me like a hawk, hmm?” 

“Bozo, who’s a bozo huh?” Luke crosses his arms then, tilting his head, and Kieran does the same.

“Boss, you need to get your girl under control.” Kieran says.

“Caw!” Mephisto is circling you, as you’re just trying to shop, but no of course now you’re all a spectacle, everyone is whispering about the three - four if you count Mephisto- of you all standing there.

That’s Sylus’s wife!

She seems a little angry.

She’s yelling at that bird!

Oh fuck everyone.

You sigh as Sylus laughs at you. “You seem really worked up, do you need anything?” His intentions are clear, and you act as if it’s the sun warming your skin and not his words.

The memories.

His tongue and fingers pushing you to climax over and over, god your tummy clenches just thinking of it. And missing a man you barely fucking know - one that you want to learn, a mystery of a person truly. What was there about him that was making you this way? 

“What I need is to not be babysat by these two, and your crow! Everywhere I go.” You’re scowling at Sylus’s amused face on the video call, as he sets you down on his desk, raising a brow and pulling out a gun, cleaning it calmly, meticulously, as if everything is peachy. “What are you even doing?”

“I’m resting before a mission, sweetie.”

“Cleaning your gun is… relaxing?”

“Mmm, you should try it.” You giggle then, you can’t help it, and the sound over the phone along with your pretty face lit by the sun does something to him then, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Would you trust me with a gun?” He shakes his head as he looks down where he’s polishing that barrel, lips quirked up.

“Absolutely not. Now,” he sets the gun down, picking the phone up and looking directly at you. “You are my wife, and that’s why they’re there - to protect you.”

His wife.

The way he says that does something, as badly as you want to be annoyed- there’s another part that’s touched by him, his care, his words, even if it’s overbearing, overprotective. You want to shove it down, the longing for someone you barely know, who overall annoys you with his arrogant attitude, but something just clicks as you meet his eyes on the screen.

“Okay fine, but… Mephisto?”

“Caw, caw, caw!”

He laughs genuinely, running a hand through his silvery locks, leaning an elbow on that table as he looks at you. “Mephisto is for me to keep an eye on you - ah there’s that cute little scowl, angry kitten.”

“You say that like you don’t purr.” Your turn to smirk as he glares, then you hang up on him, facing the two angry men now. “Look, I was rude, okay? I’m sorry.”

They look at each other, then at you, both nodding. Mephisto caws and flaps his black and gold wings, and you hold out your arm for him to land, gently touching one of his gears. “Caw?”

“I was rude to you too. I just… it’s a new, stressful situation. Maybe you all could teach me more about him?”

“About the boss?”

“We know all about the boss!”

“Caw!”

Soon the four of you are back home, and you’re in one of Sylus’s room- his music room, it seems, there is an organ that looks like it belongs in beauty and the beast itself, a record player sitting there, you gently push down the fine bronze point, as music fills the room. It’s slow and beautiful, the sounds from it, your eyes close and it’s as if you feel him there.

Every day you’ve tried to explore this mansion, slowly and bit by bit, to reveal more of the mysterious ‘boss’ and ‘leader’. But moreso, the man that instead of lying with you that night, let you have his room to yourself, pleasured you and asked nothing in return, let you have the choice.

Who was Sylus?

“Boss loves music.” Luke states the obvious, you giggle a bit, turning to look at them now.

“Well I see that. And he loves art, and pretty jewels.” You walk up to the display glasses, where he’s gathering trinkets like some dragon in a cave.

“He loves beautiful things. Probably why he was so adamant about us watching over you- oof!” Kieran gets elbowed by Luke then, and you shyly look back down at the glass, fingers hovering over, afraid to leave a print.

Did Sylus find you pretty like these jewels?

*****

One week without Sylus, and it seems like the longest week of your life- when what was without him before? You lived without him all of your twenty four years, but you find yourself giggling at his texts, playing silly phone games with him even, as if the two of you have become…

What are you?

He sends a ‘Good Night Kitten’ you send a ‘Good night Crow’.

He sent a picture of himself ‘on accident’ he says, but you don’t believe him at all, apparently he was trying to video call you and it sent - him shirtless, towel slung low over his hips, body glistening. You think he’s trying to thirst trap you - that damn man knows how fine he is and makes no act to appear humble about it. He keeps making little remarks as if you could forget that night.

Kitten seems angry, does she need something?

You find yourself sleeping in his bed alone, touching yourself to the memory of his lips sucking in your clit, humming on it, his long, thick fingers stretching you out. You can’t help yourself, every time you try to not think of him, there he is, hovering right over you. You know he’s coming back tomorrow, and you feel like he’ll get his answer then, an unequivocal yes.

Sylus walks in quietly that night, just a little early - but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he was dying to see you, to feel you. Fuck, he couldn’t stop himself from stroking his cock thinking of you, remembering your sweet taste and how you coated his face with your arousal. God you did things to him, but more than that - he wonders who you are.

The teasing all week on the phone - yes, he meant to send that image - had him even more intrigued, you’re funny and smart - too smart at times. A smart ass, and he would know, he tends to be one himself. Mephisto’s reports along with Luke and Kieran were showing how they were in just a week falling for the lady of Sylus’s manor, and that’s what you were.

His.

The need to claim you is so fierce, to fucking breed you, but he must let this be your choice, he wants you to come to him. That night his steps are quiet, when he opens the door, expecting you to be asleep, but he hears it then, your whine out, that sexy little moan. He pauses, fingers gripping the brass knob, as he sees the blankets raise just a bit - hears your soft whines.

Fuck, are you touching yourself?

“Mnh! Ugh, it won’t work.” You let out a frustrated huff, shoving your blankets down, when you see him.

Shit.

“Sylus!? I thought um… you were… I had a bad dream, is all! Nothing else is going on here!” You’re panicking, as this man just smirks, shutting the door behind himself casually, taking off his black leather jacket and propping it on the coat stand then, as you shift in his bed.

“Oh, is that so? What was the dream about, sweetie?” His soft, husky voice just makes you ache more, as he so casually sits, undoing his laces of his boots.

“Um… just a weird one. Do you… need help?” You ask then, he pauses, nodding a little, watching you leave his bed now, your shorts so askew it told right on you, you’re wearing a little black top that covered nothing and a pair of black panties, revealing too much of your pretty body.

“I should ask you the same - if you need help.” He murmurs, brushing your hair back when you get on your knees before him, making his mind go wild, while your fingers tug on the thick black laces.

“Need help with what?” Your innocent question is met with your eyes meeting his, easing his boots down, one by one, placing you right between his thighs, Sylus tilts your chin up then, calloused thumb brushing your lower lip softly.

“Sounds like you were having trouble, I could help now that I’m here.” He smiles as that color hits your skin, as your cheek is hot to his touch, and your shaky hands touch his thighs over his jeans. “Shouldn’t a good husband help his wife?”

“You love to tease me, don’t you?” Your knees press against the plush rug, as you unbutton his jeans, watching the usually confident man pause, his hands gripping your hair then, at the nape of your neck, while the sound of his zipper echoes off the walls. “Something wrong, Sylus?”

“What do you think you’re playing at?” His voice breaks then, thoughts of you sucking his cock nearly ending him - it was one thing to please, he’s very confident in his abilities to make a woman cum, but seeing you like this would end him.

“Maybe I’m returning the treatment. Should I leave a week after you cum over and over too?” He glares now, standing, so lanky and tall you hardly reach him on your knees, having to look up at him, towering over you, cock outlined in silky black - begging for you to touch it.

“You have the brattiest attitude, should we do something about that?” He slips his top off then, and you’re met with that perfect, sculpted physique, tracing your fingers across a sculpted abdominal, watching his head fall back, moaning softly, making your cunt throb around nothing.

“What do you have in mind, a lesson?” He can’t stop his moan when you tug at his pants, slowly revealing more of him, until he yanks you up, earning your pout. “Do you not want me to?”

“Do I not want you to, what a stupid question, foolish kitten.” You glare again, just becoming more attractive, when he lifts you up, sitting you on his bed now, slipping off your top and moaning softly as your breasts spill out. “I don’t want your knees to hurt.”

“Oh…” You’re so touched then, by his thoughtfulness, while he slips off his boxers, revealing himself now - thick, hard and so pretty, reddened tip leaking white pearly precum. You see how big it is, almost intimidating, touching it then with your hand, feeling it burning and so heavy, and eliciting a…

Is that a whimper?

Fascinated you repeat the action, he instead this time moans softly, huskily, eyes darkening as he strokes your hair back gently. “Touch yourself for me, show me what you were doing, hmm?”

You nod, a jerky motion, as he spreads your thighs, and you reach under your panties, finding your soaking wet clit and whining, right when Sylus tugs gently at your chin.

“Open, Kitten.”

You obey him so easy, where is the feisty little thing he knows? She’s in there, but you’re sweet, pliant, shy even, as you open your mouth looking so wanton, and his cock leaks even more, twitching when he finally brushes it on your tongue. You’re lapping his sweet pre cum up then, tonguing the slit and trembling when your hands falter on your pussy.

“Rub circles on that little clit, hmm? Press up a bit. F-fuck… you’re doing such a good job, sweetie.” He’s gripping your hair as you suck him, and you do as he says, feeling your clit tighten up, as you’re ruining your panties, looking up at him under your lashes. “Beautiful…”

Beautiful.

You tremble more as he gazes so intensely down at you, staring at you like you’re the only thing there is, you know you shouldn’t think that way - you know he’s probably just enjoying this, but there is something so addictive to his look. To how he’s stroking his cock in and out of your mouth, so easy with his motions, gasping when you suck harder, tongue lolling on the ridge of his tip.

“Still can’t cum without me, hmm?” He’s whispering, but you pull back, strings of saliva dripping from his blushing tip, pulling back your fingers and showing them glistening.

“I can, I just… am failing currently.” He shocks you then, climbing onto the bed now, laying on his back. You go to suck him again, when he flips you around, dragging your panties off in one motion, then putting your thighs on either side of his head, your hot eager cunt right on his face. “Sylus!”

“Hmm, fuck I missed your taste.” Did he say that out loud? Or was it muffled into your perfect cunt? He parts your folds, seeing how wet you are as it drools down him, slipping a finger inside you. “Miss me?”

“Just a bit,” you try to tease, leaning over him now, arms on either side of his thighs for balance, hair falling against his bare thighs, as you lap a line down his cock again, making him groan. “You miss me?”

“Just a little.” He drags you back down on his face hungrily, licking a filthy line from your clit all the way to your ass, and you almost choke on him as you take him deep in your throat, body shaking over him. “Mmm, she sure missed me.”

“She did.” You admit after pulling up with a suctioned pop, and then your eyes roll back in your skull, as he sucks and hums against your clit. “M’gonna cum!”

“Mmm,” he’s just humming quicker, feeling your mouth fail to hardly move, you’re in the throes of cumming all down his handsome face. He urges you then, hands gripping the fat of your ass, pressing you down even further until his face is fucking buried against your cunt.

“S-Sylus!”

His name, you moaned his name.

You’re trying to press hasty kisses to his hips as you cum so hard you can’t think, gushing down his face and drenching him in your arousal, his face, his throat, his fucking lips. He almost cums from just that, feeling you shake and tremble while you blink back your vision, which has gone black from how hard your release rocked you, walls fluttering around nothing, dying for more.

You feel so greedy then, thinking of how badly you want him inside you, stroking his pretty cock gently, as he drinks up all he can. “Oh my god…”

“Mmm, you got wetter than last time, didn’t know that was possible.” You’re covering your nervous blush against his thigh, as he chuckles softly. “You don’t have to finish, Kitten, I can just do this.”

“Sylus, I…” You ease off him with his help, turning and straddling with trembling thighs, making Sylus tense when he feels it, you pressing on his cock, he grabs your waist bruisingly, eyeing you.

“That’s dangerous, sweetie, I can only hold back so much.” You lean over him now, lips hovering just an inch, gripping his wrists with your little hands, and he smirks up at you. “Are you a big, bad, scary kitten?”

“Maybe I am, and you’re a sweet little crow.” He scowls just a bit, only making you wetter, as you grind on him now, and he immediately loosens your grip, hands flying to your hips as his tip twitches against your slit.

“Are you…” You press him back down, making him huff, blinking up at you as his eyes glow bright fucking red, and you’re cupping his face, thumb tracing a cheek bone.

“Sylus, I have your answer.” He swallows then, breathing heavier and heavier, as his hands trail up your spine, then back down, cock leaking all that precum right against you.

“Do you now? What’s the answer then, sweetheart?”

You press a kiss on his lips, both of you taste each other, one of his huge hands entangling in your hair, as your bodies move just slightly, casting your silhouettes across the dark walls in the night. “The answer is yes, I want this Sylus. I want you.”

“Oh, sweetie…” He can’t stop himself, his emotions he always holds back, when you whisper those words. “Not just because you have to?”

His words break you, tears burning your eyes, as you shake your head. “How could I not want you?”

He’s ended then, drowning in your kisses, letting you take control - for this moment, he muses - and reach down as he lifts your hips up, and you rub his tip along your folds, earning the most pornographic and filthy moans, mixing with your soft ones as your head falls back, hair falling like a curtain down your shoulder blades. He watches you, hands holding you up, suspended, eyeing you again.

“Still sure?” You nod eagerly, he exhales at that, pressing you down just a bit, watching your tight little cunt try to suck him up and struggling, so tight he could cum just from his tip sinking in.

“Oh my god, s’big I…” You’re struggling when he yanks you forward, until you’re resting on his chest, and he’s pulling back, sliding deeper while he watches your every expression, hands slipping down to your ass to grip you.

“If it hurts, tell me, you’re so tight…” He whispers, and you nod, so touched by his care, before he sinks you half way down, groaning and kissing you now, you kiss him back, hungry, messy, your nails pressing into his shoulders. “Oh, fuck feel you, this tight around me? Does she want more?”

“Yes, yes, please…” He manages a breathless laugh, lifting you up and dragging you down more of his inches- god how many inches - stuffing you so full while you gush all around him, clinging and trembling.

“Please, is this what I had to do to make my kitten sweet?” You’d glare but he’s shoved more of his cock - how much was there god you couldn’t take it all - you’re shaking as your cunt stretches to accommodate- the pressure building in your tummy while he caresses your face, brushing your hair behind your ear and exhaling.

God, you feel perfect around him.

“You tell me when you’re ready to move.” He whispers, you nod, trying to adjust, gasping as you shift your hips and his tip drags on your spot, and he feels those walls just clench around him like a vise, eyes avidly watching your face and just how pretty it is when in pleasure.

“I’m ready, please.” Your throaty whisper destroys him, he picks you up once more, yanking you down his length fully now, you scream out at it, head falling back, your breasts right in his face, he catches a nipple between his sharp teeth. “Oh! Sylus mnh!”

“Perfect, you’re perfect.” He can’t stop it, the words from spilling, as he pumps up into your cunt now, flats of his feet on the enormous bed, jerking his cock so deep he bottoms out as much as he can in you, tip kissing your cervix.

“Ah! Mnh! F-fuck… you’re so big.” You’re sobbing the words out, when he grinds you on him, hugging your body against his, and you’re cupping his face, lips just hovering, noses touching.

“Can you take more in your perfect little cunt?” He groans as you nod, and he fucks up into you harder now, sounds of skin slapping and your soppy cunt echoing, he’s flipped you then, holding one of your thighs up high, eyeing the bulge his cock makes inside you and getting fucking feral.

“So deep!” You buck off the bed, and he moans now, slowly pulling out, sole of your foot on his chest while he watches your cunt suck him in so greedily, disappearing his huge cock in your body, watching your tummy move. Fuck he was getting ruined at the sight, but when you cry out and jerk and he pauses.

“Are you hurt?” His soft ask is such a delicious contradiction to his commanding presence, huge body tense, as you shake your head, take a breath, letting him sigh in relief as he tilts your chin down now. “Look at me inside you, can’t even take all of me, can you?”

One moment sweet, one moment sarcastic and cocky, but you cannot think of anything when you see it too, the way your stomach expands with his cock so deep. All you can do is bite your lip, hands slipping up his obliques, feeling the muscles move as he shoves hard then, it hurts so good, and he notices, repeating it then, over and over again.

“That’s it, you like that, don’t you kitten?” You weakly nod, there are no more words, not when Sylus is pounding your pretty pussy with his huge cock, leaning lower, letting your legs wrap his narrow hips. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

You just nod again, it’s apparently all you’re capable of as this man fucks your brain out. He moans softly when he kisses you, jerking his hips just so, as you fall apart underneath him, orgasm rocking through you, he has to pause, you’re squeezing so fucking hard and pulsing. “Ah, S-Sylus - ngh!”

“Milking my cock, already,” he’s losing it with you, fucking you through one orgasm and into another, feeling you gush down him, down your ass, his heavy balls smacking it, then futher- soaking his covers. “Fuck…”

He slows his thrusts now, laying on top of you, hand entwining as his eyes drink your pretty face in, you grip him then, struggling to breathe, as his heart races so fast against your breasts, and you both pause. You stare into endless rubies of his eyes, as he squeezes your hand so tightly, the red ropes of energy binding your wrists together even more tightly.

You look at it then, nervously, then back at him, as he stares at the connection. “Are you…”

“It’s not on purpose.” He murmurs, looking as it swirls, and you feel him throb inside you, his tip oozing against your abused cervix. “Another choice, kitten. I can cum inside your perfect cunt,” he thrusts once more, watching your eyes flutter shut in pleasure. “Or I can pull out, and we wait until you want it.”

Your choice, again.

But you want him inside you, buried to the fucking hilt, opening your eyes and feasting on the man on top of you. “I want you to cum inside me, Sylus.”

Fuck.

He almost busts then, but he pauses, clutching your hand and pressing you deeper into his mattress, taking you over. “You want me to fill you up, sweetie?”

“Please,” Sylus moans heavily, kissing you as he fucks into you deep, long strokes, and your hand grips him, the other entangling in his hair as your tongues dance with each other, and he pounds harder and harder. “Please, please, please- ah!”

“Fill you up so much, you won’t be able to walk, kitten.” His eyes flash dangerously as he slams into you one more time, white hot cum pouring from his cock, and when he does, the light red rope glows more, burning hot on each of your wrists as he cries out against your ear, burying his face in your neck. “Oh, fuck, f-feel her…”

You’re a pathetic mess, twitching around him as he coats those walls, trying to catch a breath. He leans up then, the ropes fading, pulling out his cock, you watch as the cum just pours out of your slutty little hole, and he delights in seeing it. A mix of all your arousal and his load is slipping out of you as your hole puckers and quivers, spasming from the aftershocks of him.

“Such a messy girl, aren’t you…” He sighs as he pulls back, toying with his own cum, smirking as your hips jerk.

Is he sweet or an ass!?

Is he both?

He is something else then, when his eyes are so red they’re shining, and he’s slipping his two fingers up and down you, making your sensitive cunt throb in response, aching from his stretch. “Ah-ah, you said you wanted it, you even said please, yet here it is, wasted. That won’t do.”

“What do you- ah! F-fuck!” You’re breathless when he shoves his own cum back in your cunt, smirking down at you, silver hair falling over his brow then. “Sensitive mnh!”

“Mmm, you don’t want to keep it in? That won’t do.” He’s pouting, slipping more of the cum inside your sore little entrance, enjoying you far too much, you’re covered in a sheen of sweat, face so fucked out, there’s just a little drool on the corner of your mouth dripping.

You’re so beautiful.

“Be a good kitten.”

“Mean crow, mnh!” You yank his wrist then, taking his hand, and he glares as you put it to your lips now, lapping him off you with a stroke of your tongue, smirking right back at him. “Can’t take it?”

“You’re a brat.” He flips you over then, you gasp at it, slipping two fingers back inside you and pressing up.

“Sylus, we just…”

“Think I’m done with you yet?”

*****

Two weeks later

Sylus cannot stop fucking his new bride- no he needs to fuck her in every room of his mansion, hear her moans and cries, feel her perfect pussy clenching him. He has to make sure every inch of the room has had her arousal dripping down onto it, that he makes sure to have her taste on him constantly. He soaks in you like the sweetest perfume there ever could be.

He left for days again, in his office, and you eagerly came to meet him, kissing him deeply, only to get bent over it, his cock shoved so deep as he lifted up the skirt you’re wearing, his hand on yours over the desk. Breathing heavy in your ear, he can’t get enough of you, not even fucking close, reaching under your chin to cup it and tilt your lips to his.

“Miss me, kitten?” He whispers, and you shock him then, arching your ass for more and earning his groan, as you nod.

“I missed you.” Sylus pauses then, hand squeezes yours brutally, his other on your hip, his cock twitching inside you, as the two of you inhale and exhale each other. “Don’t stop, please.”

“You missed me?” He says again, you nod, you’re tired of acting like you don’t, like you aren’t falling for your husband.

Like he doesn’t make you so happy.

Like he doesn’t drink you up at every opportunity.

Like you don’t love being held in his fucking arms at night.

Like you don’t just literally enjoy him - his laugh, his kindness, his humor, god everything about his presence.

Like is a weak word, a wrong word…

“I missed you too, kitten.” His husky declaration is met with him fucking you harder, deeper, hand choking your throat and squeezing, taking your oxygen as he kisses you, drinking up your cries, busting his hot ropes so deep you’re cumming right with him.

When he’s done he never just leaves, no he’s cleaning you up - lapping his own cum out of your cunt eagerly as you’re spread on his dark wood desk, head falling back while he makes you cum again. He lavishes every inch of your walls as he scoops out the taste of both of you, pulling back and kissing you deeply, saliva dripping so you taste it too.

“Fuck, you distracted me. I got you something.” He murmurs then, taking a shaky breath and pulling up his pants, leaving them undone just a bit. 

“Y=you did?” You swipe at your mouth, standing with his help, when he pulls out a black, rectangular velvet box.

“I went to an auction, this belonged to a princess.” You’re gasping as you see it, glittering diamonds and rubies - almost as beautiful as his eyes.

“Sylus you didn’t have to do this…”

“No, sweetie, I do. Hold up your hair for me, turn around.” You obey his gentle orders, lifting your hair for him, feeling the cold metal hit your collarbones, as he rests the necklace on you. He clasps it now, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers dance across your neck. “Let me see.”

You turn back around and he sighs, looking how beautiful you are, your breasts rising and falling with every breath. He wants to say it - foolish words - that he’s falling, but he is terrified. A man like him, who can annihilate a room of monsters like it’s nothing, a man who is feared has just one weakness.

You.

“It’s beautiful, thank you so much.” You whisper, touching it, seeing how the prismatic gems reflect the soft lights. “I love it.”

“It looks perfect on your chest.” He tilts your chin up, kissing you then. “Go get ready for dinner, I want you to wear it.

After dinner Sylus’s always perfect - until you - control slips.

You’re on his lap, as the two of you sip the wine, and you giggle suddenly, the sound that makes his heart always race. “What is it, kitten?”

“Remember you spit wine in my mouth?” He blushes then, and you giggle more. “You’re so cute.”

“Cute!? I’m not cute, that’s you.”

“Mmhmm. What if I do it to you?” He pulls you closer, brushing your hair back gently, as you sip the red wine.

“I’d let you do anything to me.” His words are so soft, so impactful then, your heart hammers as the blood rushes to your ears.

“Anything, hmm? Where's the big bad leader?” You’re trying to keep it light, teasing, but he lowers his gaze to that necklace, thumbing the delicate skin around it, making you gasp.

“I’m afraid he’s been destroyed by a kitten he loves.” You blink rapidly, the words don’t feel real, there’s no way he…

Does he…

Feel the same way?

You’re so quiet he looks away, his hand falling. “Endless ammunition I just gave you against me-”

“Sylus…” He looks back, and you’re crying then, tears streaming down your cheeks, he falters, swiping at them gently.

“Yes?” His words are quiet, careful, you lean in, cupping his face, fingers tracing his sharp jaw.

“I love you too.” He slams his lips on yours, desperate and messy, as he lifts you up, propping you on the table and shoving plates away, you gasp as they clatter down to the floor, eyes wide on him.

“Say that again, kitten. Louder.” He’s shoving up your dress, eagerly slipping his hand between your thighs, your back arches as his fingers fill you, fingers you missed for days, his lips trailing up your neck, loud, messy kisses.

“I love you, Sylus.” He exhales so shaky, pulling back and gripping your hair at the nape of your neck, fingers entwined as he finds your spot, making you drool on him, while you fall even deeper into his gaze.

“I love you, , you mean, angry little kitten. Ruined me.”

“Hey now!” You’re laughing softly, but it’s cut off by his fingers, and your laugh is turned into a desperate cry. Sylus fucks you right there, uncaring of poor Mephisto flying by, who darts out as quickly as he came, and you soon find yourself in only the necklace, on your hands and knees on his bed.

“Mine, mine…” He keeps repeating them like a mantra, pressing his thumbs in the simples of your back. “Can’t wait to breed you, god. You want that?” He whispers, bending over you, and slamming so deep, necklace dangling as he hits every spot, hands gripping your hips hard.

“Breed me.”

“What do good kittens say?” You glare, just making him closer to cumming, and he pauses, reaching around to press a hand on your tummy. “Do you want all my babies so deep inside you?”

“Y-yes. I do.” You bite your lip, and he smirks again. “Please?”

“Good girl.”

Sylus will give his pretty bride anything she wants - if it’s a mating press where he fucks endless loads of cum inside her, if it’s just holding her in his arms and stroking her hair after a bad day. He’ll give her any snacks she’s craving when one day she’s full of his babies, and he’ll make sure she stays full of him. He’ll buy her anything that catches her pretty eyes and makes her smile, he’ll sing her to sleep.

He’ll do anything for his wife, a wife he fell so in love with - some would say, he became obsessed with her.

With you.

Ahhh I hope you all enjoyed this!! I had way too much fun - I love arranged Marriage tropes and had to do one for Sylus. Happy birthday Lil S! If you'd like more Sylus lmk in the comments or inbox any ideas for our dragon bc I love him<3

taglist 1 - @moggleatlife @sunsets-and-crows @musiclover2119 @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @sylvieisoffline @littlecatjn @rwirxles @byssel @storiesbyparadise @saiouma-owamiki @emochosoluvr @simp-plague @thejujvtsupost @venussakura @kavya-gangwar @katcafe-zz @angelzrulez21-blog @maisiefrancesca @terriblesoup @bimbohkitty @sanzy4 @everythingseasoning @harmonyrae @tinyweebsstuff @genshingeeksworld @monster-effer @ninikrumbs @curlyhairkk @queenexplosonmurderr @lighting-and-shadow @coldhoneyy @take-metothe-moon @dairyfaerie @genshingeeksworld @uarmyhopeworldwide @sen-nes @cchiiwinkle @jellyfishstarx @iluminaya @96jnie @demon-master-zero @milkynymphsworld @justpassingdontworry @coldhoneyy @chich1ookie @satansdaughter123 @ilovegojo7

[thedensworld]

Around | L.Jh

Pairing: Dad Jihoon!l x reader

Genre: Parents Au!

Type: Fluff

Word Count: 2k

Preview: He just wants to be around his baby daughter.

Jihoon had just returned from the company studio, the sound of the front door clicking shut echoing softly in the quiet house. Work had dragged him out for only three hours, but even that short span had drained the last bit of his energy—thanks to the excitable rookie group he was co-producing with Seungcheol. As he stepped out of his shoes with a heavy sigh, he muttered under his breath, “Finally,” shoulders slumping with relief.

All he wanted now was to melt into the warmth of home—into your embrace and the soft coos of Jiyoo, the three-month-old bundle of joy who had turned his world upside down in the best way possible.

He still remembered when he told his friends that the two of you were expecting. The teasing was instant and merciless.

“It’ll be hilarious if it’s a girl,” Seungcheol had said, barely holding in his laughter. “Imagine Jihoon—tough, stone-faced Jihoon—wrapped around tiny fingers.”

Soonyoung, ever the dramatic one, had rolled onto the studio floor laughing, arms flailing. “He’s going down so bad! I’m telling you. It’s over for him!” he cried, pointing at Jihoon, who sat slouched in a studio chair, face buried in his hands.

Because the thing was—Jihoon already knew. You were having a girl.

When he confirmed it to them, they cracked. Full-blown chaos.

“I give it three months before he stops coming to the studio entirely,” Soonyoung predicted, eyes glinting with mischief.

Seungcheol nodded with conviction. “His e-commerce order history is going to be 90% plushies. Just wait.”

They weren’t entirely wrong.

He was already skipping lunch breaks just to see her gummy smile on video call. Already bookmarking the cutest pastel onesies. Already googling how to braid hair for beginners. Jihoon—the same Jihoon who once said he didn’t like distractions—was falling fast and hard for his daughter.

But as he entered the house, it was only silence that greeted him.

No soft humming from the kitchen, no gentle lullabies or rustling baby blankets. Just the hush of a home deep in rest. Jihoon’s steps slowed as he rounded the corner into the living room—and then his breath caught at the sight before him.

You were fast asleep on the couch, one arm curled under your head, your other hand resting gently over your belly. And on top of your chest, sprawled like he owned the world, was Dungi—his plump body rising and falling with your every breath, paws tucked under and tail lazily flicking now and then. His ears twitched at the sound of Jihoon’s arrival but he didn’t budge, too comfortable to care.

Just below, in her soft bouncer, was little Jiyoo—also asleep, her tiny fists balled up beside her cheeks, one foot sticking out from under her pastel blanket. Her lips moved now and then in what might’ve been a dream-fed pout, and the faintest snore escaped her delicate nose.

Jihoon blinked once, slowly.

This, he thought, is it.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t dare disturb the fragile beauty of this moment. Instead, he quietly pulled out his phone, crouched low, and angled the camera to capture it all—his two girls and their ridiculous, spoiled cat.

Click.

He stared at the photo for a second longer than necessary, already knowing it would become a favorite. Probably end up framed on his desk. Maybe even his phone lock screen.

Still crouched on the floor, he whispered under his breath with a grin, “Yeah, I’m doomed.”

Then, just for good measure, he took one more photo—this time zooming in slightly to catch the way Jiyoo’s little sock had half-fallen off, and how Dungi’s paw was gently pressed against your shoulder like he was claiming you.

Jihoon stood up quietly, then tiptoed into the kitchen. He’d make dinner later. For now, maybe just snacks for you, and prepare a bottle—because he had a feeling Jiyoo would be up soon, and when she was, so would the house.

Jihoon was in the kitchen, carefully preparing a warm bottle of milk for Jiyoo when a soft coo echoed through the quiet house. He paused, listening. A second later, the sound turned into a gentle cry, followed by your voice, groggy but soothing.

"I'm here, baby. Eomma’s here,” you whispered, your voice the softest lullaby.

Jihoon smiled to himself, his heart doing that quiet little flip it always did whenever he heard you talk to your daughter like that—with endless tenderness and love, even in the middle of exhaustion. He grabbed the bottle, along with a small plate of cut fruit and your favorite crackers, and made his way back to the living room.

You were now sitting upright on the couch, Jiyoo nestled in your arms, blinking up at you with sleepy eyes and tiny fists curled against your chest. You looked up when you heard Jihoon's steps and blinked in surprise.

“I thought you were going to stay at the studio until night,” you said, brushing your hand gently over Jiyoo’s tuft of soft hair.

Jihoon placed the snacks on the coffee table and handed you the bottle with a soft smile. “Nope,” he said, shaking his head as he sat beside you. “I missed you and Jiyoo.”

His voice was low, warm, laced with sincerity. He reached out and gently traced a finger along Jiyoo’s chubby cheek, smiling as she let out a tiny sigh and latched onto the bottle.

Just then, a quiet meow interrupted the moment—Dungi had awakened too. The cat stretched long and slow, then casually padded over before jumping onto Jihoon’s lap, circling once before settling down with a content purr.

Jihoon chuckled. “And you too, bud,” he murmured, scratching behind Dungi’s ear.

With one arm, he reached for the plate of fruit and held up a piece to your lips. “Eat a little,” he said gently.

You took the bite with a sleepy smile, chewing slowly. “I haven’t even fully woken up yet,” you mumbled, leaning your head against his shoulder with a soft chuckle.

Jihoon let out a low hum and shifted, wrapping one arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer into his side. You melted into the warmth, while Jiyoo continued feeding peacefully in your arms, and Dungi curled tighter into Jihoon’s lap, a lazy king on his throne.

“Seungcheol mentioned something today,” Jihoon said softly, a little laugh slipping out. “He was surprised I actually went to the company studio after so long.”

You chuckled, brushing your fingers gently across Jiyoo’s tiny shoulder as she continued to feed. “I told you,” you murmured. “He might not say much, but he hopes you’ll show up sometimes. He misses working with you in person.”

Jihoon let out a low groan, tilting his head back against the couch. “Ugh, too lazy,” he muttered, a half-smile on his lips.

You smiled knowingly. “He just wants your company, Jihoon.”

He turned to glance at you and then down at Jiyoo, a softness blooming in his eyes. “Yeah, well… there’s no you or Jiyoo there.”

You hummed, rocking Jiyoo slightly in your arms, her eyelids fluttering halfway between sleep and dream. “I know. You just want to be around her all the time, don’t you?”

Jihoon didn’t even try to hide it—he smirked, leaning closer to get a better look at his daughter’s face. “Yeah… I just want to be around you and her. It’s peaceful. Safe. Why would I trade this for Seungcheol-hyung and his constant nagging?”

As if on cue, Jiyoo stopped drinking, her tiny lips releasing the bottle with a soft pop. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, and then her eyes locked onto Jihoon. A gummy smile formed on her face, and she let out a soft coo—like she’d been waiting for him to speak all along.

Both your hearts melted in an instant.

Jihoon reached out instinctively. “I’ll watch her, baby. You go rest,” he offered, gently taking Jiyoo into his arms with the kind of practiced tenderness that only came with deep love.

You stood up slowly, stretching and tying your hair back into a loose bun, watching him with an amused smirk. He was already whispering to her, nose-to-nose, talking in a soft, playful voice like she was the only person who mattered in the world.

“You just want to be around her, right?” you teased, hands on your hips.

Jihoon looked up at you briefly and nodded with zero hesitation. “I love being around her,” he said simply, then looked back down at Jiyoo with a grin. “Don’t I, princess?”

Jiyoo gurgled in response, flailing one tiny fist and catching hold of his finger. Jihoon’s chest tightened at the touch.

From the hallway, you turned to glance back at them, warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of the man you loved completely enchanted by the daughter you made together.

You knew he was gone for her. And honestly, you didn’t mind—because you were too.

*

“She’s gonna cry—SHE’S GONNA CRY!”

Seungcheol’s voice cracked an octave higher as he awkwardly cradled Jiyoo in the crook of his arm. The three-month-old blinked up at him with a wobbly pout, her tiny fingers flailing. He looked absolutely terrified.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t—oh no, don’t do the lip thing—Jihoon!” he half-whispered, half-yelled.

But Jihoon wasn’t even paying attention. Headphones on, locked into producer mode, he was laser-focused on Soonyoung, who stood in the booth, waiting for the cue.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol was bouncing, swaying, and humming a random melody in a panicked attempt to keep Jiyoo calm. His face was red. Sweat dotted his temples. The baby was slipping.

It was supposed to be a quick grocery run for you. Earlier, you hesitated at the door, bag in hand, guilt pressing lightly on your chest as you looked back toward Jihoon, who was prepping his home studio for a recording session.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” you asked, shifting your weight. “I can take her with me if it’s too much—”

Jihoon was already crossing the room with outstretched arms. “That’s fine, baby. I got her,” he said, lifting Jiyoo from your arms with ease. The second her eyes met her father’s, she let out an excited babble and kicked her legs, clearly thrilled by the transfer.

Jihoon grinned. “Drive safely, okay? Jiyoo and I will have fun with uncles.”

You smiled, still slightly unsure, but his confidence—and Jiyoo’s happy cooing—put you at ease. “Alright… call me if she gets fussy.”

And with that, you slipped out, unaware of the mild chaos that would soon unfold.

About fifteen minutes into vocal directing Soonyoung’s part, Jihoon was fully in producer mode—headphones on, eyes narrowed at the audio interface, deep in concentration.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol stood nearby with Jiyoo awkwardly cradled in his arms. She had been content for the first few minutes, but now her lower lip was beginning to tremble. Her eyes widened, face scrunching.

Soonyoung noticed it first. “Hyung, no, no, no! Don’t make her cry!”

“I’m not doing anything!” Seungcheol hissed, panic creeping into his voice as he gently bounced her. “I don’t know how to handle this… tiny thing!”

“She’s my daughter!” Jihoon cut in from the other side of the room, pulling off his headphones, offended as if Seungcheol had just insulted his whole bloodline. “Don’t call her a thing!”

This from the same Jihoon who was once rumored—falsely, according to him—to wear pink panties only. Yet somehow, this insult hit harder.

Soonyoung let out an exaggerated groan. “We have to retake that part now! I was doing so well until you started stressing the baby!”

Seungcheol bounced her again, frantic. “I told you this was a bad idea! We should be recording at the company studio, not here!”

But Jihoon immediately shook his head like a child refusing vegetables. “No. Nope. No way. I’m not leaving my daughter behind. You two can go if you want—but I won’t.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking every bit the overprotective father, biceps flexing beneath his loose t-shirt. Seungcheol groaned dramatically and turned slightly to avoid Jiyoo’s intense, about-to-cry gaze.

Soonyoung continued nagging from the booth, adjusting his mic, “Hyung, rock her, not freeze like a statue! She’s not a bomb!”

“Feels like one,” Seungcheol muttered under his breath.

Jihoon walked over, scooped Jiyoo effortlessly from Seungcheol’s arms, and held her to his chest. She immediately calmed, letting out a soft sigh as she buried her face into his shoulder.

Jihoon patted her back and smirked smugly. “See? She knows who her favorite is.”

Seungcheol slumped into a chair, hands dragging down his face. “Yeah, well… I just got out-parented by you in two seconds.”

“Damn right,” Jihoon said, placing a gentle kiss on top of Jiyoo’s head before nodding at Soonyoung. “Now, can we please finish your part before she needs a diaper change?”

Soonyoung snorted and slipped on his headphones. “Sure, but only if Seungcheol promises not to breathe in her direction this time.”

Jihoon chuckled quietly, rocking Jiyoo in his arms as the recording resumed. It wasn’t the most conventional setup—but somehow, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The end.

[bluegummieshark]

The luckiest guy in Gotham.

Ok so I don't usually add prompts but I'm deep into dp/dc crossovers and had this silly idea.

See there's plenty of stories where Danny dies. He's a ghost so kinda comes with the territory. Usually dying for a half ghost kid is just kinda like a minor inconvenience or a good way to get out of an awkward villain monologue which is valid, me too. But here me out what if Danny can't die. Like not because of some cool ghost power or even being over power where nothing works but just cause of a technical. Like death and fate are so not dealing with the paper work it would take to kill Danny so instead they just awkwardly misses him every time.

Gotham is far from what most would call a safe place. Between the villain attacks, normal city crime, and just bad city management most citizens had at least one or two close calls. That's probably why it took so long for Danny to even be noticed. By all accounts he looked like any other student in faded jeans, An NASA hoodie and backpack held together with neon green duck tape. Sure sometimes his neighbor saw him talk to himself and Jimmy from his class swore he saw the kid drink some neon green sludge once but it's Gotham. So long as the kid kept his crazy to himself no one would have looked twice.

However the video that started tending last night that Oracle themself posted made it impossible not to look. The security footage was of a gas station the angle set up high, clearly a security camera, with a time stamp of 2 am. Not long after it starts a small moped pulls up to one of two pumps. Danny is his normal tired college kid outfit hopped off his scooter and began to pump. He barely started when another figure also stepped into frame unnoticed by Danny who was clearly playing on his phone.

At first it looked like just another would be robbery. The figure hunched over while creeping up on the oblivious kid. Then just as the robber steps up a knife glittering in the street light the man just trips on a wet spot on the ground left behind by someone's spilt slushy from the gas station. Danny for his part did turn around pulling out an ear bud but from his angle his own scooter hid the man who laid face down just on the other side.

Danny unbothered clearly put his ear bud back in turning back around and reaching to the little curtsying cleaning Squeegee. The guy was quick to get up, knife gripped ready to go again when Danny moved first. Clearly having no idea anyone would be in swinging distance Danny whips the small Squeegee out of its holder like it excalibur before wildly swinging it like a sword. His movements not only cause him to send the thug's knife flying off but despite the grain quality of the video it becomes clear the liquid from the cleaning solution sprays the thug in the face. The man for his part who had already staring open mouth due to his lost knife that was sent flying up from his grasp is quick to throw his hands out, clearly trying to wipe his eyes from the neon blue liquid in them. His blind footing was perfectly timed to Danny's imaginary sword fight to put him just out of Danny's eyesight on the other side of the pump when Danny does turn around. The next minute is Danny cleaning off his scooter's front head lamp while the poor wanna be thief is gagging just on the other side. Not long given the lack of actual windshield to properly need a Squeegee Danny is back to messing around now using the tool as a makeshift guitar. The goon now looking far more pissed and maybe a tad wary is back to standing up and clearly ready to try again. The man pauses for a moment reaching for his knife but when it is clear he doesn't see it he ready his fist instead. Stepping back just behind Danny, who looks to be finishing his solo, begins to pull back his fist. Then just as he goes to swing it Danny bows. The mugger who had used his whole body quickly loses his footing as Danny's bow has him dodging with perfect steps to miss the man who stumbles just to the opposite side. Trying to keep his balance his arms move wildly as his other lands into a small bucket next to the pump. It's at this moment the man knife decides to rejoin the party which in turn has the man performing almost like some kind of figure skater as he slides face first into the trash can at the other pump.

Danny at this moment seems to finally realize there are other people that exist and sees the man waist deep into the can. And of course being the kid he is does the most un-Gotham thing he could and pulls out a few dollar bills to put beside what he clearly assumes is a homeless man looking for food. After a few more moments Danny drives off leaving the man who has since pulled himself from the can sitting on the ground defeated. Red Robin shows up after a moment looking fairly confused as the mugger just holds there arms out for the cuffs.

The video cuts off but this quickly becomes the first in a long line of short clips of the luckiest guy in Gotham who just can't die.

---

Honestly I feel like this could be a lot of fun to just put Danny in some crazy spots with the local villains and have Batman and co just be confused as hell as this kid doesn't even need their help to stay out of danger.

[starkeyisthelastname]

baaaaabe your dilf!rafe has me absolutely feral !!! I need him dry humping reader from behind while she's wearing her expensive, thin athleisure shorts he bought her, gold bracelets and necklaces tinkling as they roll around the mattress, desperate to get each other off from grinding alone 🫠🫠🫠

p.s. I love you muah 💖

thank you so much angel! 💖 you know i love you!!! 🤩

He had come home from work in one of those moods where he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Even after running errands all day, you still looked good and he definitely made that known. You were trying to get changed into something more appropriate to go out to dinner in, but he was making the task a little difficult. As you were touching up your makeup, he stood behind you with his thick fingers digging your soft skin. His lips woud graze across your neck, his voice vibrating against your flesh as he squeezed your hips.

“Come on baby, we don't have a lot of time. You look so fuckin’ good…I gotta have you.” He spoke near your ear as your eyes met his blue ones in the mirror. You wanted him just as much as he wanted you and how could you deny your gorgeous husband? You sunk your top teeth into your glossy bottom lip as his hips started to slowly move against you from behind. “Rafe baby, w-what are you doing?” You asked, voice short of a whisper as you felt his hard cock.

“C’mere.” He growled, pinning your arms behind your back to lead you over to the king mattress. He pushed you down, angling your hips up to sit deliciously in those expensive shorts he had bought you. He knew that he needed to be getting ready for dinner, especially since the kids would be asking soon if the two of you didn't hurry up. He was a spoiled man himself and needed to have you in some way. He held onto your glittery wrists, tightening his rough hold against gold Cartier bracelets that started to jingle together as he began thrusting against you in a quick desperate manner.

The both of you were fully dressed, grinding and humping each other to get off. The way he could still make your had spin, his hand free hand clasped around your gold covered throat as the other, continued to hold your arms. “Listen to me.” He whispered in your ear, his deep voice a little strained the more turned on he became. He slowly removed his hand from your wrists, wrapping his veiny forearm wrapping around your stomach to flip you over.

Cerulean eyes bored down at you, toned hips pressing into you from the front and his hard cock strained against the work slacks he had on. “The kids are going to my parents for the night after dinner and I’m making you fuckin’ scream when we get back home. All over this goddamn house.” He told you, the look on his face as serious as ever and you knew it as your poor cunt fluttered. The man definitely had the stamina to fuck you all night across the large house, your body naked later that night against his massive frame in nothing but noisy jewelry he spoiled you with and his thick cock making you a quivering mess as you let him pound your holes.

[enchantresss97]

New Look +18

Characters: Bill Skarsgård x reader

Description: After a month apart, Bill invited you at his new movie premiere in New York, but he looks—different. The transformation leaves you breathless, igniting a fire between you both.

Warning: mature theme, SMUT, language, sex, fingering.

Word count: 3060

A/N: So, after yesterday's premiere and Bill's new look, this is a must. As I said before, I think this look of his is my favorite of all. He looks so damn good, so fucking handsome… So, fresh out of the oven, I present to you todays story. I simply couldn't resist. Hope you'll enjoy it.

New Look

It’s been a month since you last saw him. Since you last touched him. You’d FaceTimed, texted, called late into the night, but nothing compared to having him here, right in front of you.

New York is alive tonight. Flashing lights, clicking cameras, the murmur of fans crowding behind barriers. All of it blurs together as you step onto the red carpet, heels clicking against the pavement.

Bill stands a few feet away, caught in the storm of photographers and interviewers, his posture effortless yet commanding. But it’s not just the usual premiere chaos that has your breath catching.

It’s him.

Your breath catches. He looks… different. His thick, beautiful hair is gone, the hair you used to tug on when you kissed him, the thick strands he always ran his fingers through. Gone. The buzz cut sharpens every angle of his face, the brutal structure of his jaw, his cheekbones, his big green eyes. And his body…

Your fingers twitch at your sides. The lean frame you were used to has changed. His suit fits him like a damn glove, hugging his shoulders and chest in ways that make your stomach tighten. He’s filled out, broader, heavier in a way that makes your mouth go dry.

He hasn’t seen you yet, too busy charming the cameras, flashing that easy grin that makes the whole world swoon. But when he finally does catch your gaze over the chaos, his smirk deepens just slightly. The flicker of amusement. If recognition, sends a shiver down your spine.

You barely get a word in. A brush of fingers as he walks past. A murmured, “Hey, baby.” Then he’s gone again, swallowed up by flashing cameras and eager reporters.

It’s not until the after-party that you finally get him to yourself.

The venue is dimly lit, buzzing with music and laughter. Champagne flows freely, and conversations blur into a hazy hum. But all of that fades the moment you feel his presence behind you.

“I was looking for you” He said with his lips dip close to your ear.

You swallow, still speechless about his new look.

“You’re different,” you murmur, voice lower than intended.

He hums, crowding you subtly against the bar. “Good different?”

You wet your lips, still trying to process it, but your body already knows the answer. You feel warm, hot, even. A different kind of heat from the one in your cheeks.

His eyes drop to your mouth as he invades your space, close enough that the scent of him, clean, warm, unmistakably Bill floods your senses. “Cat got your tongue, baby?” His voice is thick with amusement.

You turn slightly, meeting his gaze, heartbeat thrumming. “Maybe I was just admiring the view.”

His lips quirk. He leans in just a fraction more, enough that his mouth nearly brushes your skin when he speaks. “That so?”

Your pulse jumps. You should play it coy, tease him like you always do but instead, you tilt your chin up, fingers grazing the lapel of his jacket. “You look…” Your voice drops, just for him. “So fucking good.”

His breath hitches. His eyes darken.

And then, before you can push him further, he straightens, stepping back just enough for others to hear when he says, “Can you come with me for a second? I want to show you something.”

You excuse yourself from your friends saying you’re coming back soon. Smiling and letting him take your hand, and he leads you away from the noise, down a quiet hallway.

Your heart hammers as he nudges open a door, pulling you into the dimly lit room. A private lounge, empty and waiting. The moment the door clicks shut, he’s on you.

His mouth crashes against yours, raw and hungry, his hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. You gasp into him, fingers threading into the remnants of his hair,feeling a strange sensation now, nails scraping lightly over his scalp. He groans, deep and low, pressing you against the nearest wall.

When you finally break apart, your breath is ragged. “So,” you murmur, eyes locked on his, “what did you want to show me?”

His lips brush over your jaw, trailing lower, voice thick with heat when he finally answers.

“How much I’ve fucking missed you.”

Your stomach clenches. Heat floods through you, pooling deep.

His hands tighten on your hips, his mouth ghosting over yours again, teasing. “Needed to get you out of there,” he murmurs, “because I need to feel you.”

You barely manage a breath before his lips claim yours again. Deep, slow, and devastating.

The second his body presses into yours, a shudder runs through you. It’s not just the heat, not just the weight of him. It’s everything.

The absence. The waiting. The quiet ache of missing him in the dead of night, of longing for the warmth of his skin, the feel of his mouth moving against yours.

Bill exhales sharply, his breath warm as his lips trail along your jaw. “A month,” he murmurs, voice rough. “A fucking month.”

His fingers dig into your waist, like he still can’t believe you’re here, beneath him, solid and real. You tilt your head back, exposing your throat, and his lips latch onto the skin there, desperate, needy.

“I thought about this every night,” you admit, voice thick, barely more than a breath. “About you. About your hands on me.”

A quiet groan rumbles through him, his nose brushing the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. “You have no idea,” he murmurs. “How much I needed this. How much I needed you.”

Your hands explore him, tracing over muscle, over the solid weight of him, over his arms, broader than before. He feels different. Stronger, heavier but still so familiar. You arch beneath him, pressing yourself closer, needing more.

Bill’s lips hover just above yours, his big green eyes dark, hazy with heat. His breath comes hard, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he takes you in. Like he’s trying to memorize you all over again.

And his lips. God, those full lips. You’ve spent a month missing them, dreaming about them, and now they’re so close, so warm, his mouth just barely brushing yours, teasing the way only he can.

“Touch me,” you whisper. “I need to feel you.”

His fingers slide down, tracing the bare skin of your thigh, pushing higher, pushing your dress up, his breath growing heavier. “I know, baby,” he murmurs. “I know.”

His fingers glide over your thigh, slow and deliberate, tracing delicate patterns along your skin. The warmth of his touch sends shivers up your spine, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room.

Then Bill’s fingers linger at the edge of your panties, teasing, torturing, his touch light enough to leave you desperate. You try to move against him, but he stops you, holding you in place with a gentle, commanding pressure.

His lips trail along your jaw, his breath warm and heavy against your skin. “I can feel how wet you are for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick, like he’s savoring the way your body responds to him.

You swallow hard, unable to hold back the soft whimper that slips from your lips. “Baby, please.” you breathe.

He groans softly at your words, his thumb brushing the wetness through the lace, sending a wave of electricity coursing through you. “Yeah, baby? You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you” His fingers press harder, his grip tightening on your pussy. “Waiting for me to touch you like this again.”

You nod, panting now, your chest rising and falling with every shaky breath.

Bill’s lips brush against yours, soft, barely there. Just a tease. “You feel so fucking good,” he whispers, his fingers sliding down to finally slip beneath the fabric, inserting one finger inside you, his touch warm, rough. “I was thinking so much about how fucking perfect you feel around me” he said introducing another digit.

You gasp as his fingers press deeper, his touch slow and deliberate, exploring, pushing you further into the rush of sensation. You’ve never needed him more than you do now, and he knows it. He knows exactly how to make you feel every inch of him.

His thumb circles your clit, slow, purposeful, his other hand gripping your waist like he’s afraid you might slip away. But there’s no chance of that. You’re completely at his mercy.

“Bill…” you gasp, your hands gripping at his shoulders, your nails biting into his skin.

“I know how much you’ve been craving this. How much you’ve missed me.” He murmurs, his fingers move faster now, his thumb pressing with just the right amount of pressure.

Every stroke, every movement has you gasping for air, your body tightening with need.

“You feel so good, you don’t know how fucking long I’ve been wanting this,” he growls, his green eyes dark with lust, his breath a rasp against your lips. “I’ve thought about this so many times, baby... Been so fucking long since the last time I felt your tight pussy dripping on my fingers”

His lips crash into yours, your body flooding with warmth as his fingers continue to drive you crazy.

There’s nothing but him, nothing but the way he makes you feel. Touched, wanted, like you’re the only thing that matters in that moment.

It’s like everything inside of you snaps at once, your body tensing as an intense wave of pleasure crashes over you. A deep, trembling release takes over, and you gasp, your hands clutching at him, your nails digging into his skin as you ride out the pleasure.

Bill’s thumb doesn’t stop, pushing you through the waves, guiding you to the peak, keeping you there, making sure you feel every moment. You can barely breathe, your chest rising and falling in shaky bursts, but you don’t want it to stop.

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, his fingers moving in time with your body, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from you. “Come for me. You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”

When the last tremor fades, you collapse against him, completely spent, your body trembling in his arms. The world feels hazy, but Bill’s presence keeps you anchored. He holds you, his hand caressing your back, making sure you’re safe, still with him.

Bill pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. With a firm, possessive grip, he spins you around, positioning you so your hands brace against the cold wall in front of you. You’re bent over slightly, facing the wall, your chest heaving as your pulse races to catch up.

You feel exposed. Vulnerable. But you also feel the tension between your legs building again. Bill’s gaze lingers on you, taking in every inch of your body, before he moves closer, his body pressing into yours from behind. You can feel the heat of him, the hardness of his cock against you as his hands slide over your hips, pulling you closer to him.

His breath is warm against the back of your neck, his lips trailing gently along your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “I need to be inside you baby,” he murmurs, his voice rough, just a whisper in your ear that sends a wave of heat to your core.

His fingers slide between your thighs, gently parting them as he takes his time, making you ache all over again. His touch is slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring each moment, each inch of your body. You feel yourself getting wetter, your body betraying you as it begs for him.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips tighter, urging you to push back against him. “Missed this. Missed you.” and with one slow, deliberate motion, he enters you from behind. The feeling of him filling you completely, slowly. Is enough to make you gasp, your body still trembling from the previous release, but your hips pushing back toward him as if you need him to claim you once more.

His hands grip your hips, holding you still as he thrusts into you slowly, teasingly, making you feel every inch of his cock. The sensation is almost too much, the raw connection between you both almost unbearable.

“God, you feel so fucking incredible,” Bill mutters, his voice low and guttural. He pulls back, only to slam into you harder, his hands steady on your hips as he moves with a rhythm that makes you lose yourself completely.

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he slams into you harder, faster. The sound of his body slapping against yours fills the air, raw and desperate. You can’t stop yourself from pushing back against him, meeting every thrust with equal hunger. Every movement is a reminder of how much you’ve missed him. How much you’ve missed this.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby.” he groans, his voice thick with lust.

You let out a breathless moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “Bill… I…fuck, I’ve missed you so much,” you whimper, the words coming out in a rush as he continues to thrust into you, each movement making your body shake with need.

Bill’s hands move up your body, grabbing your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your neck. You feel his lips trail down the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin as his body pounds into you from behind, relentless. The pleasure is almost too much to bear, and your knees tremble, struggling to keep you upright.

“Your pussy feels so good,” he growls, his voice low and commanding, as if he’s trying to claim you in every way possible. “I need to feel you so fucking much.” His hands grip you even tighter, and he thrusts harder, deeper, pushing you further into the wall. The sound of his words, the heat in his voice, sends a wave of excitement through you, and you can feel yourself on the edge again.

“Bill, please… I need you to…” you cut yourself off with a sharp moan as he changes his angle, hitting a spot that makes your whole body tremble.

“You need me, huh?” he mutters in your ear, his breath hot and urgent against your skin. “You want me to fuck you hard until you can’t walk tomorrow?”

Your body trembles at his words, the filthy promise making you ache even more. “Yes,” you gasp, unable to stop yourself from giving in to him completely. “Yes, baby. I need it. I want you. Holy fuck!”

Bill pulls your hips back harder, forcing you to take every inch of him as he slams into you with no mercy. You’re lost in him, your mind spinning with lust, your body taken over by the raw intensity of his touch. He leans forward, his chest pressed against your back, and his lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, biting down sharply as he keeps fucking you hard.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he growls, his voice rough, low, full of heat.

You moan loudly, your words a breathless confession. “I want you so fucking bad, baby… Make me come again…”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. With a deep, savage thrust, he drives you into the wall, hitting the spot that makes you scream out in pleasure. Your fingers claw at the wall for support as your body jerks with the force of your orgasm. The pleasure crashes through you, raw and untamed, making your legs go weak as you shudder against him.

But Bill doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down. His hands grip your waist even harder, lifting you slightly to give him better leverage, making you to stay on your toes, and then he’s fucking you harder than ever. You’re almost numb with pleasure, your body writhing under him as his rough thrusts push you closer to another climax.

“You feel so fucking good, baby. You’re gonna make me come so much. I need to feel you fucking squeeze my cock.” His words are filthy, possessive, and it only makes you want him more. You cry out, your body shuddering against the wall as he drives you into oblivion.

“Bill,” you gasp, breathless. “Please baby.” You moan loudly.

He groans deeply, his hands pulling you back, forcing you to take him deeper, harder. The pressure builds again, your body already sensitive from the last orgasm, but your body is begging for more. You feel him, deep inside you, his cock moving with a frantic need, and you feel the tension in your stomach coil tighter.

With a final, powerful thrust, you explode again, your body shaking with release, your nails digging into the wall as your orgasm crashes over you. Bill groans your name, his hips stuttering as he finally comes with you, his fingers gripping your hips desperately as he fills you, each spasm of his body sending waves of pleasure through yours.

For a moment, neither of you moves, both of you breathless, spent, and tangled in each other’s arms. Bill’s hands gently move up your back, holding you against him, still deep inside you as you both catch your breath. He places soft kisses along your neck, his lips still trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment.

You let out a slow, raspy laugh, your body still trembling, feeling lightheaded from everything that just happened. The sound is soft at first, but it slowly grows into something more, a soft, breathless giggle escaping your lips. You don’t know if it’s from the overwhelming pleasure or just the sheer release of tension, but you can’t help yourself.

Bill’s lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile as he brushes your hair away from your neck, his breath still ragged. “If I’d known cutting my hair would lead to this,” he murmurs, his voice still heavy with lust, “I should’ve done it a long time ago.”

You laugh again, the sound husky, more from desire than anything else. “You look even better now,” you whisper, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “I think I like you more this way.”

Bill chuckles, the sound deep and low. His fingers gently caress your back, as if he can’t get enough of touching you. “Good,” he says softly, his voice still thick with the weight of the moment. “Because it stays.”

[mytheoristavenue]

BES Mizu x Reader - Tranquility

Summary: One evening, two odd fellows walk into your father's inn, requesting keep.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Reader believes Mizu is male, comfort, angst, use of he/him and she/ her pronouns for Mizu depending on POV

Humming gently, you busied your hands, bustling about the front room of your father's humble inn, dusting, polishing, sweeping- anything to pass the time. With your back turned, you hardly noticed the pair of men that wandered in, ducking under the curtain entrance.

"Welcome in!" you chirped over your shoulder, hearing footsteps approach the counter. Hurrying over and behind it, you turned to face them with a warm grin. "Good afternoon, sirs. How may I be of service?"

"We need a room," the shorter one said. He was significantly more slender than his companion and wore looser clothing and a wide kasa that obscured his face. "Two beds."

You nodded obediently. "Of course sir, and for how many nights?"

"One." He answered sternly, angling his head even deeper down.

"Alright," you processed his answer, making note of it. "And will you be requiring meals or would you prefer to dine elsewhere?"

"Here is fine," he replied, digging into a pocket to retrieve a sachel of currency. "Two dinners and two breakfasts. How much?" You quickly added up the total for the stay and four meals and told him what the charge was. To your surprise, he dropped even more in front of you. "I like my privacy, other than meal service, make sure no one disturbs me."

"Of course, sir!" you nodded profusely, swiftly making sure their payment was in the right place, before coming out from behind the counter. "Allow me to escort you to your room!"

-----

Now alone and behind closed doors, the pair of travelers began laying down their luggage, stretching from the relief of no longer having to carry their belongings on their backs. "Ringo," Mizu said suddenly, leaning her sword against a nearby wall as she sat down. "Go out and get us some more provisions, it'll be a while before we get to another village after we leave. Take this," Glancing up at her apprentice, she handed over a list of supplies and the same sachel of gold she'd paid with moments ago. "I'm going to rest while you're out, so try not to disturb me when you get back."

"Yes, master!" The man said seriously, a bit too much so as he saluted her before leaving. The samurai simply rolled her eyes at his unknowingly silly gesture and sighed.

It wasn't long into her quiet time that she was distracted by the softest knock on the wood frame of the door. "Service," your gentle voice called from the other side. Scoffing, Mizu called back, granting you permission to enter.

-----

You smiled when you heard the gentleman call back 'Enter.', sliding the panel away and lifting a tray from the floor before carrying it into the room. "Your meal tonight will be soba, but it won't be ready for a good while. I thought I'd bring you and your companion some refreshments in the meantime. Complementary, of course."

"Do all your guests get treated to free refreshments before dinner?" he asked, suspiciously, sitting cross-legged at a table in the center of the room.

"Well..." you blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you fell to your knees beside him. "Not exactly. Your meal will come with tea and sake, but I wanted to show my appreciation for..."

"You wanted to earn the extra money I gave you." he deduced. "I gave you that in exchange for leaving me alone so, admittedly, you aren't doing a very good job of earning it so far. I'd prefer you to respect my wishes than to bother me with special treatment."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and rejection. "I-I'm sorry," you sputtered, reclaiming the few things you'd set on the table in preparation to return the tray to the kitchen. "I'll just take this back, didn't mean to offend."

"Wait, you can stay." The mysterious man sighed, bringing his hand up and pressing his palm to the top of his kasa, removing it. Underneath it was silky midnight hair, tied back in a taught bun, with a rogue strand that framed his face. Though, most striking about his appearance, were his glasses. They were round and petite with an onyx frame and amber lenses. Noticing your attention, his eyes darted towards you. "Haven't you ever been told that staring is impolite?"

Shaking your head furiously, cheeks once again aglow, you returned to your current task. "Deepest apologies! I was only observing your glasses, they are-"

You could feel his glare on you intensify even with your gaze away. "They're what?"

"P-Pretty..." you muttered truthfully, instantly regretting using such a feminine adjective to describe something a man wore. "They're a nice color is all..."

The man shifted backward, seemingly surprised by your compliments, and for just a moment, his harsh demeanor faltered a bit. "Well...thank you," he muttered bashfully before clearing his throat and darting back into his shell upon noticing that you were beginning to pour a cup of sake. "Just tea," he corrected sternly. "I don't drink."

You straightened at his comment, pausing for a moment. "Apologies," you nodded, setting the vessel back down on the tray to remind yourself to take it back with you when you leave. "I don't believe I've ever served a man who didn't prefer sake." you mused with a small smile.

"I'm not other men," he answered shortly.

"Yes, you're entirely different..." you sighed with glowing cheeks, pouring his tea. "You're a true and honorable gentleman, I can tell."

For the first time since the pair had come in, the traveler smiled- smirked even. It was a cocky look that sent a shiver down your spine when you glanced up and his found sharp amber eyes staring back. "You're quite forward for a service girl, aren't you?"

Your eyes blew wide at his comment and your cheeks caught fire which spread even to the tips of your ears. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to speak so freely!" Somehow in your anxious haste, you'd lost your grasp on the tea kettle in your hand, and you quickly lunged forward to catch it, luckily saving it before it could spill- or worse, shatter.

Unfortunately, your cheer for victory was incredibly short-lived by the hiss of your guest, who had begun tugging his clothes away from his body. Stream rose from his torso and you went pale. It seemed that, in your rush to catch the kettle, you'd reached over the table and knocked the freshly poured cup of hot tea into the poor man's stomach.

Without a second thought, you immediately crawled over, pulling a handkerchief from the chest of your kosode and began dabbing at his chest and stomach, profusely apologizing all while. You could feel him tense beneath your touch, rigid an no longer wriggling form the discomfort of the steaming liquid coating his skin. To his horror, in your haste, you began to tug at his sleeves, pulling them off his shoulders slightly.

"I'm so very sorry, sir!" you cried, beginning to disrobe him. "I'm so clumsy! I swear I'll make this right, let me just-" you continued, untying his belt, his protests completely lost on you in your panicked state. "I'll take your clothes and launder them, free of charge! A-And I'll get you a full refund on your stay!"

"N-no, please," the man began to tremble, breath caught in his throat as you inched him closer and closer to nudity. "It's fine, all's forgiven, there's no need to-" His hands felt heavy as he tied to pry you away, and by the time he'd gathered the ability to calm himself, you'd already stopped. You were entirely frozen as the fabric of his shirt felt from your hand.

"I-I..." you sputtered, unsure of what to say, or even if to speak at all. You'd rather just stay frozen.

"I-I appreciate the offer to launder my clothes, but please," the traveler gave an exacerbated sigh, "Let me undress myself."

You slowly nodded, never breaking eye contact as he gripped his garment closed and gingerly traced the hem of it and where it fell on his chest. Suddenly, out of his peripheral, he watched you lift something off the floor, setting the object in his lap. Then he realized, you weren't looking at his body. Glancing down, he noticed his glasses, folded neatly and resting in the creased crotch of his baggy pants.

"Get out." he snapped, finally putting himself into gear. "I will leave my clothes outside my door for you to wash. Have them back to me as soon as possible. And yes, you will be refunding my stay." he seethed as you instantly jumped up and hurried out of the room.

-----

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Mizu stressed, pacing the room, and tugging at her hair. Her instincts were screaming at her to run, but her clothes were ruined, she'd at least have to wash them in some creek somewhere. But then, what about Ringo? She could leave him, but knowing him, he'd find her and lecture her about the importance of facing your problems instead of running from them. She'd forced you out before she'd had a chance to read your reaction, but then again, she'd never experienced a good one. You were probably on your way to tell someone- or worse, inform authorities on her whereabouts.

Even worse, she could her her chest bindings beginning to soak with tea, creating a terrible moist feeling between her breasts. She'd have to change the bandages, lest her skin begin to chafe. With every odd stacked against her leaving, she decided to stay. You only knew of her eye color, after all. At least you hadn't figured out all of her secrets.

All she had to do was keep her body hidden and charm you into not telling about her eyes, she could do this. You were tripping all over yourself over one snarky comment, surly she could convince you to keep quiet, right?

I hope you guys enjoyed this, there will be a part two coming (hopefully) soon, which I will link in this post when it is finished! Please like, comment, and reblog if you like this, it really helps encourage me to continue, and with this being a fandom for me to write for, it helps a lot to know what y'all interact with most!

[pyract0]

Showering with Hsr men!

☪Based off this post of mine! ☪No defined gender or pronouns, referred to as "you", nothing explicit just fluff/ romantic scenes, established relationships, I have a terrible habit of writing when I'm real tired and I don't proof read so expect mistakes (if I catch them later they will be edited) ☪Includes: Jing yuan, Sunday, Boothill ☪Might do a part 2 with the rest of the characters, just had more initial ideas for these 3

ׂ╰┈➤ -`♡´- Jing yuan A deep chuckle resounded within the spacious bathroom, like a symphony reaching your ears as you glared at the culprit. Jing yuan.

Your gaze returned to your outstretched hand in front of you, the back of your hand at the mercy of the constant, unwavering flow of steaming water. You felt another yelp crawl up your throat as you returned to the previous eye contact you helped, watching his signature smug smirk never falter.

Luckily the pain wasn't that extreme, or a certain general would be demoted to sleeping on the pristine couch in the living room instead of curled up beside you like a napping feline. You felt the careful grasp on your wrist before it registered in your vision, being tugged forward into a warm embrace as the water bounced off Jing yuans broad shoulders before making contact with you. Guess he's good for something... being a shield.

You caught yourself snickering at your own joke as a large hand came to cradle the back of your head, pulling the side of your face against his chest as a hum reverberated through. Despite the comforting warmth from the arms wrapped tightly around your body, you forced yourself backwards as to allow yourself enough space to actually clean yourself. Your own palms ran across your body, starting at your arms as you lathered a thin layer of your scented body wash. You watched in a trance as the suds disappeared in almost an instant, flowing down your limbs towards the drain. Deciding to put off washing your hair for today, deducing later to be a more suitable time you turned to your boyfriend. Simply put, Jing yuan was... struggling. His fingers seemed to get caught a mere inch from his scalp as he tried coating the strands with his shampoo. Despite the look of annoyance that quickly plastered onto your features, this wasn't exactly unusual. An exasperated sigh pulled from your parted lips as you pointed to the tiled floor. "Sit"

Despite the look on his face that felt like he wanted to argue, he sat without much of a fight, much like a scolded child who knows they've done wrong. You welcomed the slight pressure against your thighs as his head leaned back against you, giving you a better angle to thread your nimble fingers through his thick hair and massage the product into his scalp. Your fingernails gently scratched as your ran your hands through, effectively achieving your goal.

You carefully lowered yourself to your knees behind his frame, moving your attention to the hair that fell over his shoulders and seemed to flow down his back like a waterfall, making sure to be gentle when working to untangle the mess of knots. The longer you remained seated in the same spot, the further you felt Jing yuan put his weight back onto you, clearly dozing off. Instead of complaining, you decided to hold off for now and finish off your job, effectively working through his hair until it was manageable. You pushed yourself to your feet and in an instant, watched as Jing yuan sat up as if his life flashed before his eyes when his body slouched backwards. You could hear him rise to his feet beside you as you washed the bubbles from your hands, giving him your attention as you felt his gaze piercing the side of your skull. "Thank you for the help, darling" His voice help a level of deep rooted affection as he pressed his lips to your temple, moving the hair from your face before moving to place a loving kiss to your lips before stepping out.

ׂ╰┈➤ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Sunday

Unnaturally soft hands caressed your sides, cold without the usual gloves that encased them. You could feel Sundays chest pressed into your back, fluttering wings and soft grey hair tickling your neck as he placed small pecks on your shoulder.

Your fingers interlocked with the ones wrapped around your waist, leaning back into the soothing embrace. A comforting silence filled the large room as you both remained unmoving in each others company, being a much needed moment to relax. Being the head of the family wasn't an easy feat for Sunday, but if it meant he could fall into your arms at end of the day, he'd do it for eternity.

You carefully began to remove your hand from his grasp, turning your body to face his. You moved to cup his face, cradling him like he was the most precious thing you could lay your eyes on. His golden eyes met yours as you pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth, leaning back as you released him from your hold. He seemed to get the idea, moving to grab the products for your hair before applying a generous amount to his palm. You could hear as he rubbed his hands together behind your back before his thin fingers started to run through your hair, taking his time to give extra attention into scrubbing your scalp. Your eyes closed as you leaned your head back into his touch, ignoring his angelic laugh at your actions. The touch came to a stop, unthreading from your hair as you felt the warm water hit your back, washing the suds from your hair as Sunday placed his hands on your sides momentarily. "All done, angel"

You gave a thankful hum as you grabbed the specialised shampoo from the holder, spinning as you popped open the cap. Sunday Knowingly lowered his head for you, giving you full access to his wings as you started gently massaging the delicate feathers. Your nails ran over certain spots, using the ends to gently preen through his wings as they fluttered at the special attention. You made sure to be careful around his piercings, not wanting to cause discomfort to the sensitive patch within the soaked feathers. You carefully moved to the opposing wing, repeating your manoeuvring around the appendage. You took a step back as you finished up, happy with your work before moving to the next step of rinsing off the layers of applied cleanser. Before you could do as planned, you watched his wings twitch initially, before he began rousing his wings rapidly. "Wait, Sund-" Your words got cut short at the stinging pain that that infiltrates your eyes, bubbled landing on face. Your scream got cut short as you began quickly rubbing your eyes, gathering soap in your cupped hands before moving it to your face in quick succession. Sunday, despite feeling bad for what had happened, couldn't help but chuckle at your demise. Your excessive cursing only added to his amusement, forcing him to lean on the wall for support before he fell from how aggressively he was shaking. Your now red eyes glared at his quivering form, seconds away form attacking the halovian in one way or another. Upon seeing the displeased look on your face, he lifted his hands in mock surrender before moving towards you once again. His palms gently cupped your cheeks, fingers wrapping around the sides of your head like vines as he pulled your face towards his. His lips were soft against your own, moving against yours for a moment before moving back before an apologetic smile overcame his features. "I'm sorry, my dove. I'll try and be more careful next time"

ׂ╰┈➤ • ➵ ✩ Boothill Boothill has naturally met many couples in his travels as of recent, and a topic that stuck with him has of something more intimate. Showering together. It seemed... comforting. Being able to unwind within arms reach of each other, being able to hold you close and talk about his day in a different setting. With that revelation, his mind was set up. He was going to ask and it today was perfect. He watched from the barstool at your kitchen counter as you dragged your fatigued body through the living room, pressing your lips against his cheek as you walked past him before settling into the kitchen. Boothill watched intrigued as you sluggishly made yourself a hot drink, likely highly caffeinated, to try and wake yourself up. I mean, hot water would wake you right? He sat impatiently on his stool, stalking you like a hawk as he waited for you to realise he was practically begging for your attention silently. After what seemed like an eternity to Boothill (about 2.5 minutes), your eyes landed on his sharkish grin as you cocked an eyebrow at him. You may have been tired, but you'd have to be on the verge of death not not realise his enthusiasm that basically radiated off him. "So sugar, I was thinkin'. What do ya think about showerin' with lil' ol me" You gave him a continuously flow of owlish blinks as you thought over his proposal, something in you telling you it was a bad idea but you couldn't answer why. As much as you wanted to listen to the yelling in your head, the look of pure, unfiltered joy on the cowboys face fizzled out and possible doubts that you had. bad idea

You gave a half-assed shrug before placing down your mug, started your trek towards the bathroom nestled into the corner of your shared house. Before you could make it far, Boothills hand latched onto your wrist, smooth metal cooling the area within an instant. Your movement doubled in pace as the cyborg pulled you along, practically swinging the door off it's hinges, earning a scolding from you. You got undressed significantly faster than your partner, opting to step in first and choose an appropriate temperature for the pressurised water. After the water warmed to your liking, you stood in place with your eyes closed momentarily as you heard Boothills heavy steps making their way over to you. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck perk up, barely feeling his metallic fingertips graze your waist before a jolt is sent through your body, your vision turning blurring at the edges before you feel your consciousness slip from you. • ➵ ✩ • ➵ ✩ • ➵ ✩ • ➵ ✩ • ➵ ✩ • ➵ ✩ • ➵ ✩

Boothill wasn't one to freak out, no of course not. He was a galaxy ranger, he lived life on the edge and with little regard for anything. Yet here he sat, watching you lay unconscious on your shared couch with the bandages he messily wrapped around the electrothermal burn that sat on your side. As soon as he saw you waking up, he fell forward onto your chest, rubbing his cheek against it and stuttering out apologies. "Oh fudge sweetheart, I didn' think 'bout it. I forkin' forgot I couldn't go in the water" It took you a moment to register what was happening, only feeling the tight grip of arms around your waist and a face rubbing against your abdomen. You listened to him babble on in sheer panic as you started chuckling. Mistaken the sudden jolts you produced as you crying, Boothill doubled down, apologising more and looking on the verge of tears. To say he felt bad was an understatement Your hand came to rest on the back of his head, running your fingers through his multicoloured strands, trying to calm down the jittery cowboy before he overheated and caused himself to short circuit.

He refused to look up and meet your eyes despite your encouragement, pushing himself further into your chest and wrapping his arms impossibly tighter around your back. At the feeling of you placing a loving kiss to his hairline, tilting his chin as you leaned to place a more firm one on his lips, feeling his sharp teeth graze your lower lip as he melted into the kiss. Upon meeting your gaze, Boothill could see the pure amusement in your eyes at his actions, causing him to huff as he loosened his iron grip wrapped around your waist. "I'm sorry though darlin', maybe somethin' else next time"

ׂ╰┈➤ Note Cooked this up in like 2 hours at like 2am, hope y'all enjoy though •ᴗ•

[somewheres-woods]

A Kindness You Can't Afford.

Starboy Series.

I II

Content Warning: Gender neutral reader, use of slurs.

Reminder: Don't like? Don't read!

Proofread? Yes.

T'ring!

The pealing of the deceptively dainty bell assaults your ears as you enter the corner shop. The electrical buzzing of the florescent lights playing in the background like a shitty musical number. You blink hard as you slam the toe of your boots down on the mat in front of the door, shaking off the snow clinging to them.

You walk with a purpose towards the fridge aisle at the back, your gaze and walk automatic as you weave past a group of old men, ranging from their thirties to fifties, huddled around the beer crates.

Capturing the faintest whispers of their conversation as you stroll past.

"—No, you can't say retard anymore."

"Why not?"

"It offends the mentally challenged. Y'see 'retard' has more of 'em disabled tones to 'em. And there's no disability in the world that explains why he's so stupid. Jus'... hmm..."

"Bad breeding?"

"Inbreeding!"

The group of men howl with laughter, their voices filling the entire shop as some grip their bellies and turn red in the face.

You tune most of it out as you pause and linger in the frozen meat section. Eyeing the differences in proportions, price, expiry date, and, of course, meat type.

Your gaze traces along the larger proportions, only to look at the price and divert your attention elsewhere.

You must have been standing there for quite some time before you're pulled out of your thoughts by a weary yet kind voice.

"What're you looking for, honey?" A short and stout lady stands on your right, adjusting her rectangle framed glasses as she tilts her head towards the fridge and squints. Her body aged and wrinkled, yet her hair was still a vibrant auburn. A woman who had a lived a good life.

Mrs. Davidson, you recall. She was good friends with your grandparents. And she's been looking out for you ever since.

Whether you want her to or not.

"Just meat." You shrug, not committing yourself to the conversation. The weight of your two jackets bulking up most of your figure, leaving you impenetrable. Unapproachable.

You've always been like this.

"What kind of meat?" Mrs. Davidson probes, her smile crinkling her eyes as she gives you a patient look. "Is it for Cocoa?"

"No," You shake your head. You would've been out of the shop before this conversation even started if you were picking something out for your dog. Cocoa was the only woman you could shop for, really... her tastes already well established. "I'm feeding a..."

A what, genius? A space alien? A skinwalker? E.T.?

You're already regretting even entering this shop. The only reason you did was because Mrs. Davidson would always give you a discount.

"... a bear." You finish, kicking yourself mentally at the absurdity of it. You risk a glance out of the corner of your eye at the shorter woman.

She only nods slowly, her head angling to the side slightly, squinting as if she was trying to make sense of it all.

"Is that what broke your door a few days ago?"

Right. Of course Carl told her.

The night your... space alien? You need a better name for him... the night your door was broken, you called Carl in a frantic panic in the early hours of the morning. Carl, being your grandfather's best friend, had hiked all the way up to the isolated cabin while it was still dark. He had helped nail a slab of plywood to your broken windowscreen to keep the frost from creeping in.

Or something else.

And of course, Carl told his... girlfriend about it.

It was so weird to call old people girlfriend and boyfriend. It felt too juvenile for their big age... but here you were.

".. Yeah." You replied after a brief pause, too subtle for her to catch on. "I'm hoping that if I give it some food, it'll stop trying to go after Cocoa. I think it's injured."

Mrs. Davidson gives you a pitying look, shaking her head softly. She must have sympathised with how terrifying a bear breaking in must have been. She's always going on about how you're too isolated up there.

How anything could happen.

How long it would take for anyone to notice.

"Honey, don't feed it... it will come back." She warned, turning her body over to the side to walk back to the counter, parting with some final wisdom bestowed on you: "Leave it to the land. That's what it knows."

You remain staring at the selection of meat, barely acknowledging the fact that she left. And barely acknowledging the arrival of someone new.

"Beaver." A deep yet boisterous voice informs from beside you, one of the old men who were talking earlier. The oldest of the bunch, around fifty-four, still in good shape despite his plump figure. You remember meeting him a few years ago in a pub. John, you think. "If you want to try and trap it, a fresh beaver carcass is the way to go. I've got a few bear traps in the truck as well. You want me to lend you some?"

Right.

The sensible decision.

Having traps to defend yourself.

"... sounds good." You nod as you turn ever so slightly to face him. He laughs as he grips your shoulder, shaking you as a friendly gesture of camaraderie. Regardless your muscles tense.

"I've got some pals who can help me get that beaver for 'ya." His hand drops, giving you enough time to subtly take a step back. Reclaiming your personal space. "It's real odd, though... bears don't usually come out around this time of year... something must'a scared it."

... you're inclined to agree.

"I'll drop by in a few days. Set the traps for 'ya!" He laughs as he pats you on the back, leaving you to only nod as he walks away.

John and his crew were avid hunters. Loved the sport more than anything. The last time you were at the pub, John had talked your ear off about how many animals he's hunted down. Bragging about all the trophies he has hanging on his walls at home.

He even had a few moose heads hanging around in that very pub.

Accomplished, he was often referred to as.

He's always trying to get you to join him on one of his hunts...

You decline every time. Hunting down deer holds no interest to you.

But each time you give him that answer, he only smiles and utters in a determined tone:

"One day, I'll catch a big one."

A big what? You can only speculate.

A headache is already beginning to form thanks to the florescent lighting, the buzz only hammering that headache further. You glance towards a cart nearby, eyeing the bright orange reduced stickers.

...

You hope E.T. likes chicken.

.

.

.

A low sigh groans from your throat as you step into your home. The trek back up the mountain was always ridiculous. Thankfully, Cocoa could carry the shopping bags on that little sledge of hers. You unbuckle her clasp, setting her free while you gather your bags and take them inside. Making a few trips to get them all in.

You always had to stock up in bulk to avoid going down to the town so often.

You bend down to take the last bundle of bags indoors, and you glance over to your dog to see her standing in front of you. Facing the forest in alert. Your heart plummeted.

There's no sound.

It's dead silent.

No birds.

No wildlife.

Not even wind.

"Inside, girl." You utter as calmly as possible, practically dragging Cocoa by the scruff of her neck as she growls at seemingly nothing.

You walk back towards your front door, stepping on the porch, slamming your toes down on the wood to shake off the snow, before stepping indoors. You're methodical in your approach. Not going slow, but you aren't rushing to get indoors either.

You were told by both your grandmother and grandfather...

Don't run.

Running will only make you prey.

Running will only encourage them to chase.

You hear it.

A low series of clicks.

You try your best not to slam the door shut when you hear it.

The second you're inside, you dump the bags at your feet to spin around and lock the door. You rattle the handle once-- twice. It's locked.

Your forehead nearly kisses the door as you slump over in relief. A breath you didn't know you were holding escapes you. Your hands trembling.

Cocoa nudges her head into your thigh, like she's trying to console you. The corners of your lips upturn as you ruffle her head with your hands.

You lean down and grab the plastic bags, the weight leaving indents in your arms as you tred towards your kitchen. Passing the open living room, your eyes glued to the piece of plywood nailed over the sliding glass door.

You've never felt more unsafe.

The chicken is the final thing you grab after unloading the groceries stocked up... the cheap plastic sticking to your palms unpleasantly. You peel your hand free, flicking the appendage by your wrist as you place it near a spare dog food bowl.

Would blue-eyes want it cooked? Or would he only eat it raw?

You hate being so unsure about something.

No amount of Googling would solve your dilemma, that's for sure...

You pinch the plastic between your teeth, pulling back as you tear the packaging open. The smell of raw chicken hitting you like a slap in the face.

It's a pungent smell. Enough to make your nose crinkle in disgust.

But it's someone else's dinner.

You cut the chicken up into thick slices, easier for consumption as you dump it in the dog bowl. Cocoa sits by your legs, silently begging for scraps. You set aside a boneless leg to cook for her later.

Going back outside after hearing something was simply a stupid idea. So, you grabbed a spare plank from when Carl came over.

As you approach the door, all you feel is this anxiety swirling up in your gut, knotting up your stomach and stealing air from your lungs. Almost as if your instincts are screaming at you that the danger is right behind that door.

You should listen to it.

Humans seem to be the only animals who head towards danger instead of avoiding it.

The door swings open, and your eyes squint as if you're bracing for something.

There's nothing there.

You go to step out on your porch, but you think better of it.

You crouch down slowly, placing the dog bowl on the floor and using the wooden plank to push it out towards the very edge of your porch. You pull the plank back, setting it upright next to your door as you slowly rise to your feet.

There's nothing there. You keep reminding yourself.

For some odd reason, the air seems warmer.

You poke your head further out of the door, squinting to see if there's anything near the treeline. The air only seems to be getting warmer the closer you get.

You hear that clicking again. It's closer this time. Almost right on top of you.

You slam the door shut.

The handle rattles, once-- twice.

Up next: We Are Just Skin And Bones.

Taglist [CLOSED] — @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog , @distinguishedprincesstrash , @gremlinartstudio , @me753 , @juuuuno-o , @badbye666 , @yoonsilly , @mei-simp , @theclownkisser , @strawberrybl1ss , @pink-sunrise-56 , @the-shark-named-sharon , @carminhadaavenidabrasil , @broken0verseer , @mys0cksrwet , @straw--b3rry , @ye-olde-trash-panda , @mjustag1rl , @uizer , @thedegumaster

[adoresia]

BREAKING NEWS !! giant gets gianter… based off that official art he’s wearing heels in for some odd reason because i was bored, could’ve been revising but like nah

cw // crack crack crack craxk

Nagi doesn’t like going outside. doesnt like the blazing heat of the sun, the people, the walking, the conversing with random strangers and having to force a smile, the prices, the lines, the “can I help you with anything?” literally all of it. and usually when you drag him around from store to store he lets you, quietly grumbling once every fifteen minutes before melting back into your side

but today he was too cute to bother :( dead asleep in your bed with one leg kicked out dramatically to the side, blanket halfway off his body and his head burried in a mountain of mismatched plushies. his hair was stuck to his cheek and his mouth was barely parted, so you left him… you kissed his forehead, whispering a silent “I’ll be back.” took your bag and went out to do the shopping yourself.

Unfortunately…you deeply regretted this decision when you returned with seven bags and no one to help you carry them inside. so you called Nagi to come out and help you. you called, it rang, it ended. so you called again… and then again… and then.. again?

finally after the ninth missed call your phone buzzed with a single sluggish facetime request. you answered to an angle of his neck and a bit of his chin “…what.”

“sei…I told you to help me when I got back.”

your voice strains under the weight of the bags, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear as you try not to drop a handle. “oh, I was sleeping.” he sounded like hes talking through five layers of fog, voice raspy and not even fully awake, and you swear you can still hear the faint crinkle of your sheets in the background. “You’re always sleeping...”

“and I was doing such a good job at it…” you hear him yawn and something shifts in the distance — probably his leg falling off the bed. “come help me i’m outside. My arms are about to fall off.” theres a pause and an expected heavy groan, and then the sound of fabric being shoved back lazily. then a shuffle, and a dull thud as if he dropped his phone on the floor or maybe even walked into a wall. another beat of silence. then the call disconnects, you roll your eyes.

two minutes later the front door creaks open and there he stands, on the porch, wearing your red heels?? They’re visibly too small, you can see toe poking out the side; his pajama pants are crumpled just above his ankles; his shirt is half tucked; and there’s still a faint crease on his cheek from your pillowcase as he walks towards you with a stuffed frog tucked under his arm as if he forgot he was holding it.

the sun frames him like some ridiculous renaissance painting, its warm and soft and makes the heels look shinier than they deserve to be on his feet. He looks completely unbothered, like this was the most normal thing ever. “Sei…where are your slides?”

“couldnt find them” he shrugs. “these were near the door.” you just stare at him “…Are you being for real right now.” he yawns “didnt wanna go barefoot.” You drag a hand down your face but he just blinks at you, head tilted like he’s waiting for some kind of praise. you walk over to him half ready to strangle him — yet you stand there for a second tilting your head up to kiss him, or atleast attempt to…

he shifts backward in response and you squint. “hello why are you dodging me”

“…not dodging.”

“you literally backed up??” he scratches the side of his neck. “It’s just weird.”

“me kissing you is weird now?”

“no… im too tall. dont wanna bend down so far” you blink up at him, realising that the do in fact heels make him cartoonishly taller. you roll your eyes and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest. “…your so silly sei. was 6’3 not tall enough for you? I can’t even reach your mouth without a running start.”

“Then get your own heels” he mumbles, jokingly. Yet he still puts down the groceries he’s carrying and dips down slightly — just enough to plant a kiss to your temple. You melt into him, heels clicking quietly beneath him as he shifts his wait from one foot to the other, almost as if he never planned to go back to bed at all

a/n :: ENOUGH NAGI NOW omg his masterlist is literally overflowing thats enough sorry i cant stop help. ‘and’ ‘and’ ‘and then’ ‘and’ bitch expand your vocabulary??? does anyone want to send me a list of synonyms 💔 does this count as a drabble or is it leaning towards a oneshot its 722 words… hmmm… who is playing halo by beyonce outside my window hello

click here to get notified whenever i post a fic !!

gen taglist : @livteracts @s6rine @mayyhaps @lizbix @l4zystab @arisreadsalot

[yanderestarangel]

hiiii now I can finally make my request here!

just imagine having mirror sex with gentle dom!tomas: this + calling him daddy, size difference and some breeding kink too = *chef's kiss*

TW: Unprotected sex, breedkink, smut, NSFW, ftm reader, afab anatomy, nicknames, exhibitionism, daddykink, dom!tomas, v!sex, size kink.

Tomas found himself in his own room, his body pressed against the full-length mirror mounted on the wall. His naked form was a sight to behold, his skin glistening with a sheen of sweat as you awaited his touch. He couldn't resist the urge to claim it once again, this time in his own sanctuary. You could barely reach his chest, he towered over you, ready to take you right there.

When you called him “daddy,” Tomas’ eyes darkened with desire. He loved the way the title rolled off your tongue, the sweetness in his voice sending shivers down his spine. With a grunt, he thrust into you from behind, his cock sliding inside your bare cunt. He intended to breed you, marking you as his in the most primal way.

“Look at us, baby,” he ordered, his breath hot on your ear. "Watch as I fill you with my cum, possessing you completely." His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you steady as he began to thrust harder, his thrusts getting stronger with each passing moment.

The sight of your bodies entwined in the mirror was nothing short of erotic. Your breasts bounced with each of his thrusts. "It's almost unfair how perfectly you fit me... I'm going to fuck you so hard that you can't imagine life without me inside you." As Tomas continued to fuck you, his grip on your hips tightened. He reveled in the feel of your small, delicate body in his hands, knowing he could crush you if he wanted to.

"That's it, baby," he praised, "Take it all. Show me how well you can handle my cock." He watched as his shaft disappeared into your tight hole, each thrust making your smaller body jiggle and bounce in front of him.

"You're so small and delicate..," he murmured, his voice full of desire. "Still, you can take my cock like a pro. I'm proud of you oh- fuck my little one..." He began to thrust faster, his balls slapping your clit with each powerful thrust. Tomas forced you to meet his gaze in the mirror, his eyes locked on yours as he pounded into you relentlessly. You could see the raw passion reflected in both of his expressions, the lust and intensity etched across your faces. He couldn't get enough of the way your body squeezed his cock, your body willingly accepting his dominance. He easily lifted you off the ground, your feet tried to touch the surface again ── However, in vain, Vrbada was handling you easily, just like a rag doll. This new angle allowed him greater access to your pussy, his cock sliding in and out with ease. Your moans filled the room, a sweet symphony.

"You take me so well baby boy... I-I could fuck you all night long and never get enough-" He began to thrust faster, his cock sliding in and out of you with a wet slapping sound. Each thrust caused your breasts to bounce, their fullness a stark contrast to your slender frame.

"Cum on daddy's cock angel. Show me how much you need it.. - fucking hell baby... I'm going to breed in your beautiful pussy, you're going to accept everything like a good boy, aren't you?" His thrusts grew more urgent, his cock pounding into you with a relentless rhythm. As your orgasm washed over you, Vrbada felt your walls tighten around him, the rhythmic contractions coaxing him towards his own release. He lets out a guttural moan, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrusts into you with one final, powerful thrust. He could feel the warmth of his cum spilling deep inside you, filling you up as he marked you as his own. He continued to thrust into you, ensuring that every last drop of his seed was buried deep within your pussy.

"Daddy's here with you, my good boy..." he murmured. "You took all of my cum so well. Such a good, obedient boy for daddy." He peppered kisses along your forehead, his lips lingering there as he held you close. You weren't going to rest until he filled you completely that night, he would only be satisfied when he ran out of cum, spilling it all in your cute pussy.<3

[kp-alice]

Romantic greed (the best kind). | sub!Yeosang smut

Word count: 1 191

Warnings: pegging, sub!yeosang x condescending!dom!reader (they're both into it, it's okay), the slightest bit of what could be considered a corruption kink (nothing creepy, though, obv), begging, slightly fluffy during some parts.

A/N: So, uh... this fic was not planned at all, lol. I'm currently working on a few longer fics which aren't anywhere near finished, but today I had the displeasure of listening to two insanely racist, homophobic and just generally ignorant people talking loudly on the train for two hours straight, and somehow my annoyance turned into this. Don't ask me how, the frustration just made me want to fuck a man, okay,?? Yeah, that's pretty much it. Hope you enjoy!!

A/N 2: Btw, this is part of a small event I did on both this blog and my other, more sfw one, @seohwang! Go check it out if you're interested in some Jongho fluff ♥

The bed rocked back and forth with your powerful thrusts, the bed frame grazing against the wall every now and then. Accompanying the squeaking of the cheap wood were Yeosang's breathy moans, sounding like absolute heaven to your ears. He was clutching the pillow in front of him as tightly as he could, occasionally burying his face into it to muffle any wanton whimpers. His back was arched just the way you liked it, showcasing his beautiful broad back with muscle rippling all over. You would have taken a picture if you could, the scene was so pretty. Oh well. For now, all you could do was burn the image in front of you into your memory and grip his hips even tighter.

Yeosang keened as you leaned over his back to whisper into his ear, the change in angle hitting all the right spots in him.

"Roll over for me, handsome."

He bit his lip at your words, feeling the blush already tinting his cheeks get even deeper. He'd never admit it, but he loved it when you treated him like eye candy. Just a little boy toy for you to indulge in. Not that you needed him to admit anything, his reactions to the pet names you'd throw his way were more than enough.

Feeling you pull out of him, Yeosang shuddered, forcing his limbs to cooperate. With weak arms and legs, he flipped over, instinctively spreading his legs for you to slot your body between them. And when you did so, he couldn't help but let out a calm, content sigh. The sight of you like this, leaned over his sluggish yet excited body with your equally as tired but aroused one, buzzing with love and eagerness to make the both of you feel as good as possible, was nothing short of breath-taking. He didn't care about what society deemed the right, conventional way of lovemaking. Because in this moment, and even afterwards as he'd likely be recalling this over and over in his head, everything just felt so right. He was yours and you were his, inside and out.

His hazy thoughts of adoration were halted, however, as he felt something prod at him again. His excitement quickly turned to confusion, though, as he realized it wasn't your strap this time. Though initially similar in shape, he noticed it was much thinner yet warmer. Looking down, he caught a glimpse of your two fingers just as they began slipping inside of him.

Yeosang let out a teary, malcontent whine, feeling the slowly building orgasm in him stagnate. "Wait, no! I want- I need your cock in me, please!" he begged, grinding down on your hand to chase after the dwindling pleasure. "I was getting so close, please please please, I need more than this!"

Your core ached hearing him beg, and his thrusts against your palm certainly weren't helping. Despite his hole already being prepped and fucked loose, you could still feel every clench of him around your fingers, only adding to your unending arousal. Leaning over him even more, you looked down at him in faux remorse, contrasting the way your hand started pushing even harder into him. "But I want to feel you some more, hun," you explained with a fake, patronizing pout, "the strap is fun and all, but I can't feel you squeezing me with it nearly as much as I can like this. I need to know I'm making my boy feel good, right?"

Yeosang whimpered at your explanation, knowing you weren't going to budge until he'd give in to your game. With one hand clutching the pillow under his head again, he brought the other down to his twitching, neglected cock. He tentatively wrapped his fingers around it, looking up to gauge your reaction. When you didn't say anything, he slowly began stroking himself, huffing a strained breath from finally getting at least a fraction of the pleasure he so craved.

But even then, his hand and your fingers curling inside of him just weren't enough.

"Y/N, please," he began again, suppressing all shame churning his stomach as he conceded at last. "Please, I really- fuck! I need it! Please fuck me again, I promise you can use your fingers on me later but I-" a suppressed cry slipped past his lips and his hips bucked up as you hit his prostate dead-on, "I really need to cum right now."

The moment he saw your smirk, he knew he was done for.

"Aww, you need to cum?" You asked condescendingly, to which he nodded abashedly. "And my fingers just aren't doing it anymore, are they? You need something more, huh," you adjusted your hand, fingers reaching just a little deeper now, "something bigger," scissoring the two digits, you felt Yeosang shiver again, "my cock."

Closing his eyes and clenching his jaw, he nodded vehemently, already getting excited again just at the thought of it. You chuckled at his response, unable to hide your genuine, giddy smile. Luckily, Yeosang couldn't see your facade breaking, too busy willing the blazing hot blush off his face and chest.

"I've really spoiled you, haven't I?" You asked rhetorically, curling your fingers inside of him a few more times before finally sliding out. "You used to get all sensitive and shy whenever you'd ask me to finger you, and look at you now."

Yeosang let out a small sniffle at your words, which quickly turned to a gasp as he finally felt the blunt tip of your strap press up against his clenching hole again.

"Now you're begging me to fuck you with my bigger strap because not even the other one can satisfy you anymore."

Yeosang whimpered as you finally slid back home, hands flying up and around your neck to hold on for dear life as you quickly returned to your original, rough pace.

Noticing he was too distracted by you inside of him to keep stroking himself, you decided to help him out with your free hand, the other holding tightly onto his hip.

Yeosang cried out weakly at the added stimulation, brain starting to fog over from the onslaught of pleasure. His nails dug into your back as you jostled him up on the bed with your thrusts, leaving pretty marks he knew you both would be marveling at in the mirror later.

"...but guess what, Sangie," you suddenly spoke up again, bringing your boyfriend out of his thoughts just as his mind was starting to get a little too hazy.

Taking a few shallow breaths, he dared his voice to answer, "w-what?"

Yeosang squealed the moment you fully leaned over him, resting your chest against his as you drove your strap right into his g-spot. His eyes squeezed shut at the electrifying feeling and he buried his face into your neck to breathe you in while his legs wrapped around your torso. His hands were still clutching onto you tightly, the tremble in them worsening the closer he got to his long-awaited orgasm of the night.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Thank you so much for reading! And remember, feedback is always appreciated!! <3

[ms-snape]

I really want jealous reader. 😂 Imagine Severus and reader are on romantic dinner and some girl start flirting with Sev in front of reader. Reader is really jealous but Severus can handle the situation perfectly.

Title: Jealousy

Warning: Jealous reader

Words Count: 2500+

Masterlist

---

The ambiance in the dimly lit restaurant was tranquil, softened by the warm glow of candles flickering atop the white-clothed tables. The scent of roasted garlic and herbs wafted through the air, mingling with the faint sound of a string quartet playing a lilting melody in the corner. Shadows danced along the walls, cast by the flickering flames, creating a cozy intimacy that enveloped Severus Snape and Y/N.

Y/N glanced across the table at Severus, her heart swelling as she observed the way the candlelight played upon his features. His dark hair framed his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw and the intensity of his obsidian eyes, which bore the weight of countless secrets and unspoken desires. Tonight, he wore a deep green dress robe that made his pale skin appear even more luminous, and Y/N couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly elegant he looked.

“Is the meal to your satisfaction?” Severus asked, his voice low and smooth, pulling her from her reverie. His gaze held a hint of curiosity as he leaned slightly closer, the flickering candlelight illuminating the contours of his face.

“It’s perfect, Sev” she replied, her voice warm with affection. “But I think the company is even better.” A smile spread across her lips, and she reached across the table to entwine her fingers with his.

Severus's expression softened for a brief moment, and the corners of his mouth turned upward in a rare smile. Y/N's heart fluttered at the sight. In moments like this, they were simply two souls lost in each other, separated from the harsh realities of the world outside.

But as if the universe had conspired to shatter this blissful moment, the waitress approached their table, her demeanor bright and flirty, her hair bouncing as she moved with a confident sway. Dressed in a form-fitting black dress, she exuded an effortless charm that filled the air with a tingle of tension.

“Good evening! Can I get you anything else?” Her voice was melodious, each syllable laced with an alluring undertone as she focused her gaze on Severus. “You look absolutely dashing tonight,” she continued, her eyes sparkling as she brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, leaning slightly over the table, her chest almost touching the surface.

Y/N’s heart sank, and a flicker of irritation ignited within her. She could feel her fingers tightening around Severus’s as she forced herself to maintain a neutral expression, desperately trying to mask the sudden rush of jealousy that flooded her system. Why did this woman think she could just flirt with him like that? Did she not see they were having a private moment?

Severus, however, remained unfazed. He straightened in his seat, maintaining a regal composure that spoke volumes of his self-assured nature. “Thank you,” he replied, his tone cool and measured. “I would appreciate it if you could bring us the dessert menu.” He held her gaze for a moment longer, and Y/N marveled at how effortlessly he dismissed the flirtation without any hint of discomfort.

The waitress seemed momentarily taken aback by his disinterest, but she quickly regained her composure. “Of course! I’ll be right back.” With a final flutter of her eyelashes, she turned on her heel, strutting away with an air of confidence that only deepened Y/N's feelings of envy.

“Y/N?” Severus’s voice cut through her thoughts, laced with a slight concern as he noticed her sudden change in demeanor. “Are you alright?”

She forced a smile, though it felt tight and strained. “Of course, I’m fine,” she replied, her voice slightly sharper than she intended. “Just… enjoying the ambiance.”

His dark eyebrows knitted together in concern, and Y/N could see him weighing her words carefully. “You don’t seem fine,” he remarked, his tone gentle yet probing. “If there’s something on your mind, you can share it with me.”

With a deep breath, she wrestled with her emotions, knowing that if she didn’t speak now, the bitterness would only fester. “It’s just… that waitress. She was really… enthusiastic.”

Severus’s expression shifted slightly, amusement glinting in his eyes. “Enthusiastic?”

“Yes,” Y/N replied, her voice rising slightly in indignation. “She was practically throwing herself at you! And you just sat there and took it.”

“Hardly,” he countered, his tone now more serious as he leaned closer. “I did no such thing. I merely answered her questions.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “It just felt like she was trying to get your attention. You could have at least looked a little uncomfortable!”

His expression softened again, and he reached for her hand, gently coaxing her fingers open to entwine them with his. “You know how I feel about you, don’t you? Nothing can change that.”

At that moment, the waitress returned, her presence cutting through the tension like a knife. “Here’s the dessert menu! I recommend the chocolate soufflé; it’s simply divine.” Her gaze flicked between them, and Y/N could sense the subtle challenge in her tone as if she were silently asserting her place in the evening.

Severus turned his attention to the menu, seemingly unfazed by the woman’s persistence. “Thank you,” he said, his voice curt. “We’ll take two soufflés.”

As the waitress walked away, Y/N felt a mix of resentment and gratitude. She appreciated Severus's ability to remain composed, but the weight of her jealousy threatened to choke her.

“See?” Severus said, his voice low as he leaned closer, the warmth of his presence calming her tumultuous thoughts. “I handle these matters with utmost grace.”

“Grace?” Y/N scoffed lightly, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Is that what you call it? I saw the way she looked at you.”

“I assure you, her gaze was nothing more than idle curiosity,” he replied, his lips quirking into a smirk. “You should know I find such attention tiresome.”

The corners of her mouth turned up, despite her earlier frustrations. “Maybe you should have told her that.”

Severus tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “And deprive her of the opportunity to serve us dessert? That would be cruel.”

Y/N laughed softly, the tension in her chest easing as their banter flowed naturally once more. “I suppose you’re right. But you have to admit, it’s a little infuriating.”

He nodded, his expression turning contemplative. “Jealousy is a potent potion, Y/N. It can cloud judgment and twist thoughts.”

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Are you saying you’re above jealousy?”

“Hardly,” he replied, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned closer. “But I recognize it for what it is. You, however, must understand that my heart belongs to you.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt the last remnants of her jealousy dissipate under the warmth of his gaze. “I know,” she murmured, her heart swelling with love. “I just… sometimes it’s hard.”

“I understand,” Severus said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand in a soothing motion. “But you must trust me. Trust in us.”

Their dessert arrived moments later, but the atmosphere had shifted, the tension easing as they focused on each other rather than the past few moments. The chocolate soufflé was decadent, but Y/N’s focus remained on Severus, whose eyes sparkled with mischief as he savored each bite.

“Delicious,” he commented, his voice low and rich, reminiscent of dark velvet. “Almost as good as the company.”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Perhaps,” he replied, leaning back in his chair with a smug expression. “But you are the one who provokes me.”

As the evening wore on, the flirtatious waitress was quickly forgotten. Y/N and Severus settled into their own rhythm, laughter mingling with tender glances, their connection deepening with each passing moment. The world outside melted away, leaving just the two of them enveloped in their own bubble of intimacy.

“Thank you for tonight,” Y/N said softly, her heart full as they finished their desserts. “I really needed this.”

Severus regarded her with warmth, his dark eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that made her breath hitch. “I would do anything for you, Y/N. You must know that.”

“I do,” she replied, her voice steady. “And I’m sorry for being jealous. I just…”

He raised a hand, silencing her words with a gentle smile. “There is nothing to apologize for. We are only human, after all.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of warmth wash over her as they shared this moment of vulnerability. “I just want you to know that you mean everything to me.”

Severus leaned across the table, his expression serious yet tender. “And you, my dear, are my heart. Nothing can ever change that.”

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, the weight of the world fell away, leaving only the purity of their connection. Y/N smiled, feeling lighter, her heart brimming with love, as Severus reached for her hand once more.

The night continued, each moment shared becoming a thread woven into the fabric of their relationship, binding them closer together. And in the face of jealousy, they had discovered the strength of their love—a bond that could weather any storm, unyielding and fierce.

As they left the restaurant, hand in hand, the moonlight illuminated their path, casting a silvery glow that felt almost magical. Y/N looked up at Severus, her heart racing as she realized how lucky she was to have him by her side, even when the world outside threatened to pull them apart.

“Promise me something,” she said, her voice steady.

“Anything,” he replied, a curious glint in his eye.

“Promise me you’ll always be honest with me, no matter what.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “I promise, Y/N. Always.”

As they stepped into the cool night air, the world felt different, the earlier tension dissipating like mist under the morning sun. They walked through the cobbled streets, the soft sounds of the night embracing them. Severus’s grip on her hand was steady, a reassuring reminder of his presence.

Once they arrived at their house, the familiar sight of the imposing stone structure greeted them. Y/N took a moment to admire the way the moonlight highlighted the contours of the building, casting long shadows that whispered of the mysteries contained within. Severus led her through the entrance, the door creaking open to reveal the warmth and comfort of his sanctuary.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted again, becoming more intimate as they stepped into the dimly lit hallway. The flickering light from the fireplace cast a golden hue on the dark wooden furniture, and the scent of aged books and potions lingered in the air, wrapping around them like a warm embrace.

“Would you like some tea?” Severus asked, his voice low, a subtle hint of concern lacing his tone as he surveyed her expression.

Y/N shook her head, her heart feeling full as she took a moment to appreciate the space that felt like home. “No, I’m fine. I just want to be here with you.”

He smiled, and the warmth in his gaze made her heart flutter. “Then let’s take a moment to enjoy the silence.”

They settled on the plush couch in front of the fireplace, the soft crackling of the flames providing a soothing backdrop to the evening. Y/N leaned against Severus, her head resting against his shoulder as they fell into a comfortable silence, their fingers still intertwined.

The events of the night began to replay in her mind, the initial spark of jealousy followed by the warmth of his words. “I know I shouldn’t have let her get to me,” she said softly, breaking the tranquil silence.

Severus turned his head slightly to look at her, his expression understanding. “It is only natural to feel that way, Y/N. It speaks to your feelings for me.”

Y/N smiled softly, the tension in her chest unwinding as she felt the warmth of his presence. “I guess I just worry sometimes.”

“About what?” he asked, genuinely curious as he ran his fingers through her hair.

“About losing you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes it feels like the world is trying to pull you away.”

Severus’s expression darkened momentarily, a flicker of anger surfacing at the thought of anything threatening their bond. “You need not worry about that. I am not easily swayed by superficiality. My heart is steadfast.”

Y/N looked up at him, her heart swelling with love. “I know. It’s just… the world can be cruel, and I’m afraid of losing the one thing that means everything to me.”

He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing against her cheek as he leaned closer. “You will not lose me. I am yours, and I intend to remain so. No amount of flirting or attention from others can sway my feelings for you.”

The intensity of his gaze sent warmth coursing through her veins, and she felt her heart soar as she leaned into his touch. “Thank you for reassuring me,” she whispered.

“Always,” he replied, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

Y/N leaned in, capturing his lips with hers in a soft, lingering kiss. It was a kiss filled with promise and reassurance, a silent affirmation of their bond. As they pulled away, she could see the depth of his feelings mirrored in his dark eyes, the flicker of the fire reflecting the love they shared.

“I needed this evening more than I realized,” she admitted, her voice a gentle sigh. “It reminded me of what we have.”

Severus nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. “And what we have is worth fighting for, Y/N. Worth protecting.”

She nestled closer to him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear, the comfort of his presence washing over her like a warm blanket. “I feel so lucky to have you,” she murmured, feeling a surge of gratitude for the moments they shared.

As the night deepened, they remained entwined on the couch, the warmth of the fire casting a golden glow around them. Time seemed to stretch, each moment laden with the weight of their unspoken promises and desires.

Eventually, Y/N felt her eyelids growing heavy, lulled by the warmth of Severus beside her. “Are you tired?” he asked, his voice a gentle murmur as he noticed her drowsiness.

“Just a little,” she replied, stifling a yawn. “But I don’t want this moment to end.”

“You don’t have to. You can stay here as long as you wish,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing motion.

She nodded, her heart full as she settled deeper against him. “Thank you, Severus. For everything.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” he replied, his voice a low whisper. “I promise to always earn that trust.”

And as the fire crackled softly, Y/N drifted into a peaceful slumber, cradled in the safety of Severus’s arms. In that moment, with the world outside forgotten and the warmth of their connection enveloping them, she knew without a doubt that they would weather any storm together.

[fckmebarnes]

not fair

switch!bucky barnes x switch!f!reader

18+ minors and men dni! smut — p in v. teasing. breeding kink. size kink. oral (r) . fingering (r). breeding kink if you squint a little.

w/c — 2.7k

a/n — picture is for aesthetic!

bucky with this big blue eyes staring up at you as he’s kneeling at your feet. you’ve been ignoring him for god knows how long and while it’s been tough, you need to get this last bit of work finished up.

but he’s been in a mood and he’s been aching. the flirty texts weren’t working, walking around shirtless with his sweats hanging low and a very obvious hard on showing through his sweats didn’t make you drool. he could’ve sworn you would’ve come at the drop of a dime when you heard him touching himself in the shower. he was extra loud on purpose for that.

but you didn’t, which resorted him here, under your desk at your feet with his head in your lap. his cheek was pressed against your knee, exposed skin through the ripped material of your jeans. it felt like he hadn’t felt your skin in what felt like forever, but he knew that wasn’t true, he was just being dramatic.

you peered down for a second, feeling bucky’s lips kiss your knee gently, over and over under he went a little further up your leg. his eyes were closed, lashed resting gently on his cheekbones and his hair was tucked back into a low bun. a few curly strands of hair had fallen out of the bun and were framing his face. you reached out and pushed one behind his ear and his eyes opened, big blue needy eyes meeting yours. you gave him a small smile, caressing the side of his face as you cupped his cheek. he leaned into your palm, missing the feeling of your hand on his face while he was looking up at you.

he whined as you let go of his face and you turned your attention back to the laptop sitting in front of you. he knew you had other duties, but couldn’t you see how needy and desperate he was just for some sort of release? he angled his legs so your leg was right between him, his cock pressing harshly against his sweats and on your calf. you could feel how hard he was through the fabric and while it made you soaked thinking he was just sitting here as a silly little whore, you had to finish this paper.

but that didn’t mean you couldn’t let him have some relief.

opening your legs up a little bit without looking down at him, he took that as his advantage right away. his hands splayed across your thighs and squeezing them gently. he licked his lips, watching you shift a little as he squeezed your thighs, knowing you were getting a tad bit distracted. he smiled to himself, metal fingers ghosting lightly over the fabric enough to make you suck in a breath and take a short pause, acting as if you saw something incriminating on your job site.

but in all reality, you were focused on how his fingers moved closer towards your clothed core, the fabric of your jeans pressing against your clit. licking his lips, he popped the button open with ease, and you moved your hips enough to let him shimmy your pants off tossing them to the side.

he let out a breath, looking back up at you again but you weren’t looking in his direction. your eyes were skimming over your laptop, anything to distract you from him kissing up your thigh and how his hips were moving against your leg— dying to get some friction against his hard cock.

your soft skin felt like heaven against his rough and calloused hands, the cool metal fingers digging into your skin as he massaged the flesh. occasionally his tongue poked out against your skin as he pulled you closer to him before nudging you clothed clit with his nose. he inhaled deeply, his cock twitching in his sweats at how good you smelled, how soaking wet you were through your panties.

his tongue licked up a stripe on your clothed slit, and you had to suck in a breath to keep your composure. he knew for a fact that you wouldn’t be able to last long, but that didn’t mean he couldn't tease you a little bit. as he kept licking, he pulled your panties to the side before his hot tongue found its way to your slit.

“fuck..” he groaned against you, tongue dancing up and down your cunt, lapping up your slick before pulling back. looking down, his lips were glistening with your slick, and a smile adorned his beautiful face.

“take yourself out for me, baby. wanna hear you stroke that pretty cock while you eat my pussy.” his cheeks heated up, nodding quickly as he shoved his sweats down. he didn’t ever bother to wear boxers anymore, mostly because they got in the way when he wanted to fuck you into oblivion.

his cock was red and throbbing, pre-cum dripping down the tip onto his length as he grabbed the base of his cock and tugged on it a few times. spitting in his hand, he started to stroke himself as he leaned back in and lapped at your clit gently. the squelching sounds mixed with him jerking himself off, and it made you even more wet at the thought.

he brought his other hand from your thigh, prodding your hole with his middle finger before pushing it in. you felt the stretch immediately, moaning softly as you sat back, opening your legs wider for him as he nestled closer. smiling against your cunt, he pushed a second finger in, curling them so they were hitting the sweet spot your fingers could never reach.

going at a slow pace as he fucked your cunt with his fingers, his hands worked his cock at the same speed, tugging the tip before rubbing his thumb around the slit. you watched as he fucked into you slowly, his hand matching the speed on his cock before he easily slipped in a third.

“fuck..sweetheart. you’re soaking..” you moaned gently, feeling your slick run down your crack knowing that it was making a little wet spot on the chair. he felt his palm soaked, flowing down his wrist and arm.

he picked up the pace, twisting his wrist and curling his fingers inside of you while he pulled away and rubbed your clit with his thumb. he rested his cheek on your knee, stroking himself a little harder as he made eye contact with you for a split second before you closed your eyes and bucked your hips up into his fingers.

“baby..’m gonna cum.. keep going, jus’ like that.” you gripped the edges of the chair, his assault on your cunt never faltering as he kept going, rubbing your clit harder with his thumb. his eyes were blown out, no longer being able to see the soft blue eyes that always were so inviting.

instead he was here to take from you, something that he knew you needed from being so stressed out for days. he felt you clench around his sensitive fingers, his hand on his cock picking up as you rolled your hips hard against his hand.

“thas’ it, sweetheart. take what you need, go on..” he egged you on softly, the sweet praises laced with his tone of wanting to be used by him, taking whatever you needed from him. your hands gripped the sides of the chair tightly as you felt your orgasm wash over you, strings of moans and his name falling from your lips were music to his ears. he was panting softly leaned against you, bucking into his own hand as he tugged and gripped the tip of his cock, not wanting to cum just yet.

he whined as he felt your cunt squeeze his fingers hard, pulling another orgasm unexpectedly from you before he slowed his movements, taking his fingers from you and popping them into his mouth tasting you. you let out a long breath, looking down at him underneath the table and in between your legs as he sucked on his fingers. your cream was ringed around his knuckles dripping down his wrist and his hand twisting his cock before he let it go.

another drop of pre-cum fell from the up of his cock, and you licked your lips, needing to feel full of him. you leaned down, pushing the chair out enough to grab his chin and smash your lips against his in a heated kiss— tasting you on your own tongue. he let his lips part, tongues dancing with each other in need before you managed to get his tongue and suck hard on it.

he groaned, pushing the chair all the way back as he stood up, his fingers that were just in your cunt wrapped around your neck, the dynamic changing quickly the second he squeezed.

“do that again and im pumping you full of cum all night, princess.” you smiled against his lips, and he groaned, picking you up easily and tossing you over his shoulder before walking away with you towards the bedroom. your palms pressed against him slower back and you could hear his cock slapping his thighs with each step, making your mouth salivate at the thought of having it in your cunt.

you let out a squeal as he tossed you onto the bed and hovered over you, eyes looking over your face for a quick second before pushing his cock over your folds. your jaw fell over, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance with each rock of his hips and snagging your clit each time.

“pl - please buck..” you begged softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, letting your legs fall open a bit more for him as he fully slid in between your legs. he pulled away, grabbing the base of his cock and tapped the tip on your clit, making you jolt your hips a little at the feeling.

“Is this what you want, doll?” you nodded, biting your lip as you tugged your shirt off and exposing your chest to him. he let out a quiet ‘fuck’ as you toyed with your nipples, tugging and pulling at them.

he shook his head though, stroking himself as he watched you touch yourself. “beg for it, then.” you pout your lips, in hopes that would make him change his mind but it didn’t. he pushed the tip of his cock into your hole, making you moan and shifting your hips for more before he held you down with his other arm.

“c’mon, sweetheart, use those words. tell me you want my fat cock splitting you open. its the least you could do for being a fucking tease all week.” you felt your face heat up, licking your lips and instantly losing all self control as he kept just the tip in your dripping hole. he could feel you squeezing it, jaw clenching with each squeeze trying to draw him in.

“ple - please daddy, need your cock so bad..” you whined softly, biting your lower lip as he smiled, pushing his cock deep inside you with a single thrust. he threw his head back, moaning out how warm and wet you were, reveling in the feeling of your pussy fluttering around his cock.

“fuck baby, missed my sweet pussy,” he drew his hips back, before slamming back into you, grabbing your legs and bringing them up to his shoulders balancing your ankles on his shoulders. he turned to kiss one of your ankles, watching the way your anklet engraved with a little ‘b’ bounced with each thrust.

you couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he fucked into you. he was so pretty— more strands of his brown and messy hair fell in front of his face and sticking to his forehead. his eyes only trained on the way your cunt swallowed his cock perfectly, how easily you stretched out around his fat cock. you were both drunk on each other starting just from some simple touching.

you whined gently, trying to muffle the sounds as you felt his cock spear into you, each thrust making you lose your mind more and more until your thoughts were only filled with getting pounded. he could see it too— the way your eyes rolled back into your skull, your back arching just to get him deeper, and how you gripped the sheets.

“like that, baby?” he smirked as he watched you nod, your tits bouncing with each thrust. “awe, too cockdrunk to answer me? that’s okay, daddy will give you exactly. what. you. need.” he accentuated each word with his thrusts, digging his hands into your hips and pulling you up a little more, his balls slap[ing onto your tight hole as your slick ran down his balls and onto the sheets.

at some point you felt the blood rushing to your ears a he fucked into you, your body moving up with each thrust until the pillow your head was on backed against the headboard. he smiled watching you squirm under him, toes curling and mouth hanging open. leaning over he gripped your cheeks, spitting right onto our tongue and you moaned as you swallowed. you were more bent in half in this position, the dog tags he wore around his neck dangling in front of your face.

you took it between your teeth as he fucked into you, and the moan that left his mouth made you squeeze around his cock. he hissed, bringing one of his hands in between your bodies where you were connected and furiously rubbed your clit. you moaned dumbly, mumbling incoherent sounds as he fucked into you.

“you feel me here, baby?” he pushed against your stomach with his metal hand, slowing his strokes enough for you to feel his cock protruding through your stomach perfectly. he was rearranging your guts and he was smirking about it since you couldn't actually say anything back.

“yeah you do, my perfect little cockdrunk slut.” as soon as the words left his mouth, you felt your orgasm rush through your entire body, lighting up and igniting each and every single nerve . you squirted on his chest and his cock, a loud moan leaving your lips as you squirmed under him. his thrusts didn’t let up, instead — you squirting encouraged him to fuck you through it while he held onto yoi tightly.

“that’s a good girl, fuck baby,” he was loosing self control as your cunt pulsed around him, milking his cock for his cum. his thrusts became erratic, pushing his hips flush with yours and you felt his hot cum filling your cunt up to the brim.

he leaned his weight against you, your legs falling from his shoulders and next you, his cock twitching inside of you as he moved his hips slowly. the squelching sound mixed with yours and his cum was enough to make you needy all over again.

he leaned up, kissing you softly before pulling out and you felt his cum drip down your hole and onto the messy sheets. he leaned back, admiring his handiwork before scooping up some of his cum and fucking it back into your cunt.

“bucky, please..” you tried to move away but he held your hips down with his metal hand, he tsked, pushing his fingers all the want into your pussy and feeling your walls clench around him from the overstimulation

“i think you can give me one more, hm princess? just for the blue balls you left me with all week.” you whined, and he just smiled as he kept fucking into you. he pushed his palm right up against your clit making you moan, grabbing his wrist and keeping it there as you needily grinded into him

“thats what i thought baby, you just can’t get enough huh? need me to fuck my cum back into this sweet little pussy. my little cumslut.” you nodded, completely fucked out and agreeing to whatever he said because you were drunk on his touch, anything that he would give you.

you felt your orgasm wash over you with a particular twist of his wrist, squeezing his fingers as more of his cum spilled out of you, making him groan. pulling his fingers from your abused cunt, he marveled in his work as your pussy fluttered around nothing.

“don’t think im done with you, sweetheart. we have all weekend to make up for lost time.” and you still hadn’t finished your work.

[earthlyangelbby]

Cupid's Curveball

Chapter 1: The Silas Situation

1.7k words

Sfw All Chapters Next Chapter:2

Summary: A normal hangout takes a turn when you confess you've never had a Valentine and your lack of a date to the Cupid's Ball. Which isn't really Eddie’s scene, but he's very interested in who exactly you want to go with. He gets his answer and while suspicious he decides to help you get the date.

Authors Note: This is set 1986 if Eddie just got to be a normal senior. He's 19, and you're 18 both seniors.

February 7th 1986

Here you were, sitting crisscross applesauce on Eddie’s bedroom floor. The room was dim, with a warm haze hanging in the air, the faint smell of incense mixing with something sharper,  you thought it was the lingering trace of Eddie’s cologne. His walls were covered in band posters and random doodles he’d tacked up, each one so him it made your chest ache. But despite the familiar comfort of the room, you weren’t feeling your typical light and giggly self.

You glanced up at Eddie, lounging on his bed like he didn’t have a care in the world. His curls framed his face, and for a second, you thought about how good his jawline looked from this angle.

“Is this new or something I’ve had before?” you asked, your voice quieter than usual.

Eddie’s lips trilled like a horse's, and his dark eyes shifted up as if searching the ceiling for an answer. “Uhhh, yeah, this is the same stuff I picked up from Rick like two weeks ago.” He glanced down at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Why? Are you not feeling it?”

You shook your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “No, I’m definitely feeling it.”

He didn’t look convinced. His lips pressed into a line before he asked, “What’s up then? You’re not giggly like you usually are.”

You hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek. It felt stupid to say out loud, but the weight of the thought sat heavy on your chest. Finally, you let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I don’t know. I just kinda feel sad... It’s something stupid.”

Eddie’s expression softened, his usual cocky smirk replaced by genuine concern. He scooched closer, leaning down toward you on the floor. His big, brown eyes met yours, and for a moment, your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat. You weren’t sure if it was the haze or just him, but you felt... safe.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “You can tell me.”

You leaned back on your hands, feeling the soft surface of the carpet against your palms. Throwing your head back, you shut your eyes, hoping the words would sound less ridiculous when you said them aloud. “I’m bummed because I’ve never had a valentine, and I really want one. But that kind of thing is stupid, right? Corporate Hallmark crap, blah blah blah. And no one’s asked me to the Cupid’s Ball yet.” The words spilled out in a rush, followed by a sigh of relief.

Eddie straightened, his eyebrows lifting. He grabbed your shoulders gently, forcing you to sit up and meet his gaze. His touch was firm, but not overbearing, and you couldn’t ignore the warmth of his hands through the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Hey,” he said, his tone low but earnest. “Just because I think it’s all corporate crap doesn’t mean you have to. I can still listen when you talk about stuff. If it means something to you, it means something. Okay?”

He’s saying stuff like, "If it means something to you, it means something." Ugh, stop being so understanding, Eddie! It’s bad enough that I can’t stop thinking about how your hands felt, and now you’re making me think about… other things. Like what it would be like to actually go to that dance with you. Would you spin me around or just sit in a corner, cracking jokes to make me laugh? Ugh, stop it. He doesn’t see me like that. Right? 

You nodded, a little embarrassed now because the way his hands lingered made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t fully understand—or maybe didn’t want to admit.

Eddie let go and sat crisscross in front of you, leaning back against his bed. His movements were casual, but you thought you caught the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away for a second before speaking. “Just ask someone to the Cupid’s Ball or whatever.”

“I can’t,” you huffed out, crossing your arms in frustration.

“Why not?” His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head in confusion.

You pouted, avoiding his gaze. “The guy is supposed to ask.”

Eddie frowned, and a silence fell between you. He was quiet for a beat too long, and you wondered what was going through his mind. Was he going to say something sarcastic? Was he judging you? Why did she have to look so cute? That little furrow in her brow makes me want to reach out and smooth them away. Is this what liking someone feels like? It’s not like I’ve never noticed her before. I definitely have. But right now she’s sitting there on my floor in my room, and her voice is so soft it’s messing with my head. I could offer to take her to the dance... No, that’s stupid. If she wanted me to, she wouldn’t be upset about it in the first place.

Eddie cleared his throat, shifting his weight a little. “Okay, so what if we come up with a plan?”

You frowned, confused. “A plan for what?”

“For you to ask this guy to the dance.” He shrugged casually, trying to ignore the pang in his chest as he said it. “I mean, screw tradition. If you want to go with him, just ask him.”

You bit your lip, unsure. “I don’t know, Eddie. What if he says no?”

Eddie leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Then he’s an idiot, and we’ll find someone else to go with you. But seriously, I’ll help you figure out how to ask. It doesn’t have to be some big deal.”

Why does he have to be so sweet? The way he’s leaning in and actually trying to help makes my heart flutter, and I don’t know how to stop it. Is he really just being a good friend, or is this something more? I wish I knew, but I can’t bring myself to ask.

“Okay,” you said softly, feeling your cheeks warm. “What do we do first?”

Eddie grinned, his confidence returning. “First, we figure out what this guy likes. Then we make it impossible for him to say no.

Why does this feel like a punch to the gut? She’s sitting here talking about some guy she likes, and all I can think about is how much I wish it was me. Maybe it’s stupid, but I need to know who it is—it’s like I can’t help myself.  

Eddie tilted his head, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Alright, before we-, you gotta tell me…. Who is this guy, anyway?”  

Panic overtook your body and the only name you could think of was Edward Silas Munson. On repeat in your stupid lovesick brain. “Uh, his name is Silas.” 

Silas? Who the hell is Silas? And why does that name sound familiar? Wait—hold on. That’s my middle name. Is she messing with me?

Eddie blinked, his smirk faltering slightly as he processed what you said. “Silas?” he repeated, tilting his head like he was trying to put the pieces together. “So, uh… where’d you meet this guy?”

 Crap, why did I say that? His middle name was the first thing that came to mind, and now I have to sell this. Keep it together!

“At my volunteer thing,” you said quickly, smoothing your hands over your jeans. “You know, the animal shelter I go to on Sundays? He’s there sometimes, helping out.”

Eddie’s eyebrows lifted, suspicion flickering in his dark eyes. “Oh, yeah? A guy named Silas, who works with animals? That’s… cool. What else is he into?”

 Why is he asking so many questions? Does he think I’m lying? Oh God, what if he figures it out?

“Um, well… he plays guitar. And he’s into metal,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Really cool guy. Super chill.”

A guy named Silas who plays guitar, loves metal, and works at an animal shelter? That sounds an awful lot like… me. Is she messing with me, or is this some kind of hint? Either way, it’s messing with my head. Maybe not everything is about you Munson. 

Eddie leaned back, crossing his arms, his expression unreadable. “Sounds like a solid dude,” he said, though his voice was quieter than usual. “You want me to help you figure out how to ask him to the dance?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, avoiding his gaze. “That would be… nice.”

Eddie gave a small nod, though his mind raced. “Alright, let’s figure this out,” he said, his tone low and a little hesitant. “We’ll make sure Silas can’t say no.”

Your heart thudded out of your chest. “How are we gonna do that?” 

Eddie looked up at you, “Give me tonight to think about it. Tomorrow we start, sweetheart.”

The sound of the clock ticking on Eddie’s wall caught your attention, and you glanced at the time. Your eyes widened slightly. “Oh, crap,” you murmured, pushing yourself up off the floor. “It’s almost 11. curfew.”

Eddie stood, stretching lazily before grabbing his keys from the dresser. “Alright, I’ll get you home, princess,” he said with a grin, motioning for you to follow him.

The drive was quiet at first, the soft hum of the van filling the space. Eddie tapped his fingers on the wheel, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “So,” he said casually, breaking the silence, “this Silas guy… he better not flake on you for that dance.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Why do you keep bringing him up?”

Eddie smirked, shrugging one shoulder. “Just saying. A girl like you deserves someone who’ll show up, make it a good time, you know? And if he doesn’t, well… I might have to have a word with him.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said with a lopsided grin, his eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the road. “But you still hang out with me. So what does that say about you?”

The warmth in his tone made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t fully understand. As he pulled up in front of your house, you lingered for a moment, fingers brushing the strap of your bag. “Thanks for the ride,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Eddie replied, his voice gentle but teasing, as though he didn’t want the moment to end either. “See you tomorrow. Rest up. Big plans to make.”

You nodded, stepping out into the cool night air with a heart that felt heavier and lighter all at once.

Thanks for reading :)

I hope you kicked your feet and twirled your hair while reading this chapter

I have a lot of ideas for this series! Let me know what you think