#and ignore his teeth . I wish I had no eyes so I could be happy

[princess-adronitis]

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[rosenclaws]

The Wolverine and His Bunny || Logan Howlett x Bunny Girl!Reader

summary: You and Logan have always butted heads and his constant, condescending reminders of your mutation don't help. It's not until your forced to train together and well, the tension is undeniable

warnings: MINORS DNI, SMUT, 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, rough sex, a variety of bunny themed nicknames (Bunny, thumper, carrots), creampie, manhandling, pain kink (Logan), doggy style, dirty talk, blow job, mirror sex, slight choking, degradation, praise, he plays with your bunny ears oops, enemies to lovers kinda? Logan's a dick at first, teasing, being pinned down.

Don't like it don't read it :)

Halloween Masterlist

wc: 3.7k

a/n: Okay look, I thought this was hot and so I wrote it. Anyways happy October first everyone! Hoping to add my degeneracy to the long list of fics to come. This also ended up being more. angsty than i mean it to be. I think I have an angst problem oops

You hated him so much. He was. He was just a massive dick for no reason and you hated people like that. You get that he was the all mighty Wolverine who was indestructible or whatever but if he could act like a normal person for once in his life that would be great.

He wasn't even the leader of the damn team and yet every one seemed to act like he walked on fucking water. It's not like he was the only one on the team either. He may tell everyone he's a loner and he doesn't need help but we're the X-Men. Not just Wolverine.

It's just not fair.

You had the perfect plan. Planned down to the very second and Logan had to go and fuck it all up. Maybe it was an honest mistake but you highly doubted it. He always had a problem with you. You didn't understand why. The moment you showed up to the mansion he was hostile. Calling you stupid, condescending nicknames because of your mutation while ignoring the part of it that made you super smart.

You were fuming when the team got back from the mission. You stormed right past everyone to get to Logan. They shoot you apologetic looks but you paid them no mind.

"Logan!"

"What's got your panties in a twist bunny?" He leans against the jet hangar door. A cigar already lit in his mouth.

"Don't call me that asshole!" You shove his chest but he doesn't move. Your nose twitching in anger as he just laughs.

"I had a plan Logan. A good plan. A perfect. Plan. So tell me why as soon as you had the chance to, you ruined it!" He scoffs and blows a puff of smoke in your face. Your ears flatten against your head as you wave the smoke away.

"We finished the mission didn't we?." He says with a smirk. If this were a cartoon you'd surely have steam coming out of your ears by now.

"God you're nothing but a slimy little weasel sometimes!" You push your finger into his chest. He pushes your hand away and bares his teeth like an animal.

"You have no idea what it's like to actually be on the field so why don't you tuck your little tail between your legs and run back to the lab."

"Logan! That's enough." Jean scolds him harshly as you turn around and storm out of the room.

You feel tears welling up in your eyes but you force them down. Fuck him, you were an important part of the team. Whether he liked it or not.

It's like he lived to torture you. Ever since the day you told him off he seemed to just. appear. Constantly. Wherever you were he was there too. In the kitchen? He strolls right in for a soda. In the training room? He's already there. All sweaty and grunting and gross. You're outside near the water fountain, guess who strolls right on up. It was like he was stalking you or something.

Your ears perk up as you hear footsteps approaching your classroom. You taught most of the high level classes, the advanced ones for students who wished for more academic classes. So their tests were more complex to grade which is why you were still here so late into the night. Your nose twitches as a familiar scent fills your nose. Without even looking you let out a long sigh.

"What do you want weasel?"

"Now that's not very nice of you." Logan says with a smirk as he sits in the chair across from your desk. He puts his feet up on your desk. Right on top of the stack of papers.

"Can't you go bother someone else? Please. Like anyone else." He grins and you roll your eyes.

"But I just love your company." His voice is dripping with playful sarcasm.

"You're going to work yourself to death carrots. It's not good for you." The truth is he came to try and apologize for the other day but he just hasn’t found the right time. Okay well there’s been good times but he was never able to get the words out. So here he is trying his best.

He stands up and leans over your desk. You have to admit he's certainly an overwhelming presence. His face is inches away from yours, eyes staring into your soul with a wolfish grin on his face. He picks the pen out of your hand and throws it over his shoulder.

"Why not take the stick out of your ass and have a little fun?" Wow, for a second there you almost thought he cared.

"You know what Logan, just leave me alone."

"You know I'm trying to be nice here and all I'm catching is attitude." He growls. You slam your hands on the desk and stand up. Getting close to his face as your ears flatten. "

Nice? You think you're being nice?" You laugh in his face and he pushes back. Papers fly everywhere.

"Fine, work yourself to death I don't fucking care." He storms out of your room and slams your door loudly.

"Asshole!" You yell back. You turn back to see the mess of papers and sigh. Great, now your night got even longer. Logan mutters angrily as he stalks through the halls. So much for trying.

It's been at least a couple weeks since that night with Logan and thankfully he's finally decided to leave you alone. You barely saw him and in a weird way, you kind of missed him. Kind of. Barely. In fact you really enjoyed the peace. Your ears definitely didn't perk up when you heard Logan's voice on the other side of Professor Xavier's office. You push through the door and find Logan looking very pissed off.

"You wanted to see me?" You glance over at Logan who was fuming silently.

"Yes, I think it's time you join the team. On the field." You widen your eyes in surprise. You never considered yourself to be a field agent. Your mutation wasn't exactly built for combat. You were speedy but that's about it. Strategy and smarts were much more your speed.

"I think bringing you out on the field would be an immense help to your battle tactics. As Logan so kindly put it, being on the field is different from watching on the outside." You flash back to the harsh words Logan had said to you a while ago.

Logically it would be helpful for you to observe what missions were like first hand but you don't think you needed to be there. Still to get yourself a suit and be part of the team sounded nice too.

"And since it was his idea, Logan will be your instructor."

"What?!"

"Absolutely not." Charles gives you both a look, one that said to quiet down and you both reluctantly listen.

"I am not a fool,  the two of you need to learn to work together. My decision is final." His tone leaves no room for argument and the two of you leave with scowls on your face.

"Alright thumper, here’s how it’s going to go. Tomorrow. 7am in the training room. Think you can handle it?” He places his hand near your head. You roll your eyes and duck under his hand.

“Yeah yeah, see you then Weasel.”

It feels like this was meant to be a punishment more than an assignment. You get that you and Logan haven’t. exactly gotten along but to stick you together like this? That’s just mean. You showed up right at 7am the next morning dressed in workout clothes. Logan is already there dressed in his little gray sweatshirt, white tank top and sweatpants.

“So you didn’t run away? Good bunny.” He smirks as your face scrunches up in anger.

“Fuck off.” You’re already dreading this. If you could just survive an hour then you could never deal with him again.

"Okay, show me what you got." He stands in the center of the mat. Arms at his side with an expectant look on his face.

"What?"

"I heal bunny, so give me all you got. I need to see what I'm working with here." You take a deep breath and launch an attack.

You weren't helpless by any means but you weren’t on the same level as Logan, even you could admit that. He barely flinched as you darted around the room. Striking him in a few places but he just stood there. It was starting to piss you off. You get that you weren’t the fiercest but he could at least try and fucking help instead of wearing you out like this. You look around the room and see wooden poles used for combat training. He never said you had to just use your hands. You dart across the room and grab one, swinging it hard against his back. To your surprise it completely breaks. Shattering on impact. He grabs the broken half that’s left in your hands and pulls it out of them.

“That’s cheating,”

“No it’s not. I was just using my resources.” He laughs and grabs your wrist. He slowly backs you up until you hit the wall.

“Oh yeah? What you’re gonna find a really big stick out in the field?” He mocks.

“This is useless.” He lets go and walks away from you.

You feel anger bubbling up in your chest. You don’t belong. You’re useless. What good are you to the X-Men? You are sick and tired of hearing shit like this all the fucking time and Logan was the worst about it. You launch yourself at him. Running as fast as you can and jumping on his back. It blindsides him, he tumbles to the ground. He grunts as you start to hit his back hard.

“What is your fucking problem!” He pushes you off and you wince as you hit the mat. You scramble away before he can get up and jump back onto him. Legs straddling his waist as you push his shoulders.

“Why do you hate me so much?! What did I do to you?!” You take a swing and hit him square in the jaw. He looks surprised but shakes it off easily. He doesn’t fight back, more in shock than angry at this point.

“I get that I don’t have metal claws and I can’t move stuff with my mind but I’m part of the team too!” You swing your fist again but he catches it this time. He grabs your other one and pushes you to the ground roughly.

“Fuck off!” You hiss as he crawls on top of you. He’s heavier than a fucking boulder as he practically pins you to the ground.

“No you shut up and fucking listen.” He growls. He still has your hands pinned to the floor. An almost animalistic look on his face.

“You are so infuriating, everything about you drives me fucking crazy. So pretty, so smart, so easy to rile up.” He purrs. Your body feels like it’s on fire. What the hell is he even talking about?

“I say things without thinking sometimes but you, you make it so hard. Always running your mouth.” You squirm under him, trying to get free.

Then. He moans. He fucking moans.

You stop moving and stare up at him in surprise. Then you feel something hard against your stomach. Oh. He’s hard.

“No fucking way.” You say with a smirk. He may be on top of you but right now it feels like you have all the power here.

“Don’t tell me you were an absolute dick because you liked me?” He doesn’t deny it. Instead pressing you harder into the mat.

“Shut up.”

“Couldn’t handle your feelings so you decided to tease me like a fucking schoolboy.” You laugh and try and move your arms but he doesn’t budge.

“You know what I think, I think you need to lose the attitude carrots, I think a nice good fuck would do you good.” You scoff at his words.

“And you think you’re the one to do that? You couldn’t make a girl cum if your life depended on it, Weasel.”

“Is that a challenge bunny? Come on, say it.” He’s hot and horny but he’s giving you a way out.

If you tell him to fuck off he’ll leave and you both can forget about it, but if you don’t. If you say you want this. Well he’ll finally shut you up like he’s been dreaming about. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. He’s breathing heavy like an animal and you’re studying his every move. Was this a bad idea? Probably. But you couldn’t deny that Logan was hot and right now all you wanted was to suck him off until he was milked dry. Shit.

“You can try, but I bet you won’t even last a minute.” He practically pounces on you. His face is buried in your neck as his hips grind against yours. You gasp as he bites your neck harshly. Eyes fluttering shut as he kisses it better.

“Dreamed of this, my bunny all wet and needy for me.” He nibbles up to your ears. Practically purring at how soft they feel.

“Not your bunny yet.” You bite back. He lets go of your wrists and sits up on his knees. He rips open your bra without the least bit of resistance. Mouth drooling as he stares at your tits.

“Fuck me.” He mutters as he harshly gropes your chest.

His thumb flicks over your nipple and you let out a squeak of pleasure. The last thing you wanted was for him to get an ego but fuck the way his hands feel on you is just so good. They’re rough and calloused and he is relentless in his movements. You almost whine when he stops playing with them, already missing his touch. He sheds his tank top, leaving him in all his muscled glory.

“Like what you see?” He asks cockily as he takes his pants off too.

“You fucking wish.” You mutter unconvincingly. You take your nails and rake them down his chest making him moan.

“You like a little pain don’t you.” You tease, digging your nails into his skin harder.

“Maybe I do.” You yelp as he shreds your pants and underwear to shreds.

“Those were fucking expensive asshole-Fuck!” You gasp as he buries his face into your cunt. His hands locked on your thighs, moving isn’t an option as he practically inhales your cunt.

“Smells so sweet, can always smell you bunny but up close is just. So much better.” You feel yourself start to melt under his rough hold. He’s absolutely overwhelming.

“Maybe later I’ll finally get a taste but right now I think I need to put your mouth to better use.” He pulls you up onto your knees. Stroking his cock as he pushes you down. Shit he’s big but you don’t even react, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Come on bunny, open up. Be a good girl for me.” Fuck him if he thinks he’s going to be in charge here. You smirk and take him as far down as you can.

“Fuck!” He hisses, not prepared for you to do that.

“Fuck slow down.” There's a hint of desperation in his voice and you feel a sense of pride. You pull back and spit on his cock. Using your hand you coat it, looking him right in the eyes as you roughly move your hand along his cock.

“I think you need a lesson too,” His eyes roll to the back of his head as you take as much of him as you can.

Choking as the tip hits the back of your throat. You are unrelenting, eating up every little desperate sound that’s coming from his lips. Not so tough now are you Logan you think as you feel him twitching in your mouth. He’s so damn close and its driving him wild. You feel a heavy hand bunch your ears and pull you off.

“As much as I want to come down your throat and watch you swallow it all…” He wipes some drool off your face as talks.

“I need to be inside that cunt.” Then he grabs your face and kisses you, actually kisses you. You’re startled at first but melt into it. His lips are rough and he smells so much like tobacco and whiskey but fuck its intoxicating. He’s big, rough, and so fucking hot.

“You’re soaking wet bunny.” He taunts as he cups your cunt with his hands.

“I bet you’re just aching to be filled. Don’t worry, I can help.” He manhandles you with his crazy strength till you're on your knees facing the mirrors.

“See, you’re just shaking with anticipation.” He grins wickedly as he cups your face and forces you to look into the mirror.

He’s not wrong. He’s big and you can feel his cock nudging its way into your cunt. You’re panting, hair a mess. His hand looks so good around your neck and he looks even more delicious. Your vision blurs as he slides himself inside of you. The air is knocked out of your lungs as you feel nothing but Logan. Head up in the fucking clouds as he gives you a moment to relax, whispering sweet words to help ground you back to earth.

“Is your dick inside of me the only way to get you to be nice?” You ask breathlessly. Logan grunts, not happy that you’re still able to speak beyond moaning his name.

“I can be nice, I can be real nice.” He slides out of you at a slow, agonizing pace before thrusting harshly back in. You claw at the mat as he sets a brutal pace. In and out. Slow and hard. Pulling desperate sounds from the depths of your throat.

“Logan please!” You beg, you need him so bad. Need to feel him, need him to rearrange your fucking guts. “

So polite, now that’s more like it.” He leans in and kisses your neck roughly.

Claiming you as his own in his own animalistic way. He would tease you, continue to pull you apart on his cock for hours if he could. But the truth is he needed you. A deep carnal desire to render you completely fucked out. He leans back, pulling your back to his chest. He guides your hands to his arm.

“Hold on bunny.” Your nails sink deep into his skin, drawing blood as he sets a brutal pace.

Pounding into you so hard you see stars. Fucking hell super human strength and stamina really is a gift. He coos in your ear when he notices you starting to slump in his arms. Your legs burned, he was reducing you to a puddle of nothing.

“You okay pretty? Feel too good doesn’t it.” You nod, words not forming in your brain anymore.

All you feel is pure bliss and Logan feels a surge of pride in being the one to do this. You catch his gaze in the mirror. His eyes filled with pure, raw lust. His face was twisted in focus, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open. His muscles were bulging with every move. You couldn’t stop yourself from look. Watching as he buried his cock into you.

“I know you’re close, it’s okay. I got you bunny.” One of his hands slips down between your legs. He draws tight, harsh circles on your clit making you cry. You’re squirming wildly, it feels too good. His fingers are too much but you don’t want him to stop.

“Shh, that’s it. Just relax.” He sinks his teeth into your shoulder as you come hard.

Your legs can’t stop shaking. Logan tightens his grip on you, keeping you up right as he fucks into you hard. Chasing his own release, thrusting wildly and you fucking swear he whimpers as he stills his hips deep inside. Filling you up and then some. It’s a real shame when he pulls you, an empty feeling overtaking you. He loosens his grip and you almost face plant onto the mat.

“Logan..” You whine and he helps maneuver you to your back.

“Sorry carrots, didn’t mean to let you fall.”

“Don’t call me carrots.” You mumble, still completely exhausted.

“Okay, whatever you say, carrots.” You huff as Logan helps you stand up.

Your clothes are completely ruined but he somehow finds some extra sets of clothes in the closet. When did he even get up? Maybe you were still a little lost.

“Hey, you okay?” He cups your face gently. A slight look of worry in his face.

“Aw, you do care.” You tease. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t let go of you.

“I always cared.”

“Had a real shit way of showing it.” You snort and he just smiles softly.

“Yeah. Guess I did.” To your embarrassment you still can’t exactly walk right. Luckily Logan is right by your side. You mentally prepare yourself to tell people you hurt your leg or something when they ask why you’re limping so bad.

“I still don’t know what I did to make you hate me.” You say quietly as you reach your dorm room. He sighs and gently plays with your ears. It tickles.

“I don’t hate you, I never did. I just. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He can’t articulate just why he acted the way he did. He wants to, he really does but it just. Doesn’t come out. There's a long history of pain and loss and while you want to know why, an apology is certainly a start.

“Thank you,” He smiles softly, then realizes he’s probably overstayed his welcome. As if you two weren’t fucking in the training room less than 10 minutes ago.

“Do you want to stay?” He hesitates, unsure if this is truly what you want. If this line is ready to be crossed.

“You owe me for ruining my clothes. Just one nap.” He relents, it’s easy when you’re looking at him like that.

“Okay bunny. Just one nap.” He shuts the door behind him, crawling into bed with you.

He feels a rumble in his chest as he sinks into your bed. You’re soft and it feels like he’s meant to be here. You fall asleep quick, body aching and practically screaming for you to sleep. Logan stays awake for a while, just okay with being here. Just one nap he tells himself. 

He’s lying. It’s never going to be just one nap.

[ghostssimp]

Arguing// Aegon Targaryen

You will know where the inspiration took off when you read the lines, and I'm on my knees for Aegon in that scene, I don't care. Rhaenyra, you are my Queen, but your brother is so damn fine, I'm sorry.

Once again, I want to thank you all for your support and reposts of my works! I haven't been writing in a long time and to have such a support on my works when I get back into it means a lot!

18+

I've deacided that if you you feel like it, you could ask for a request and I would be writing it! Feel free!

It always seemed like he was impossible to talk to now that you've grown. Head up into his ass, not listening, always being on onto his way, and the thing that got on your nerves is that he looked too damn good.

It was just a month in when the two of you got married by your grandfather's wish. Alicent was first to be against it, after all you're Rhaenyra's daughter. Would you turn her own son against her? Of course not, you didn't give a damn about her.

But just maybe, she was the reason behind Aegon's actions. Aegon was an asshole, bit before when tje two of you were kids, he was always there for you. You didn't have much girls around here. Well, Haelena was there but most of the time you didn't understand what she was talking about. It was mostly bugs and she has ton of them but still it seemed like she was in her own world.

So you had to be with your brothers and uncles. Sometimes your brothers would get on your nerves, by saying that you're a girl and that you can't play with them, or even train. You always wanted to be part of them, but felt a little rejected. Aegon was there to give you a hand and pull you towards them, sometimes just the two of you would run off somewhere to have hours of talking alone. It all seemed perfect then.

Now, your dear husband is ignoring you, wenting off to get drunk and be with some whores. It was getting to you slowly, your heart clenching at the tought of him with someone else. It's not fair for him to be so good to you, then throw you away like a rug.

The night has rollled around and you retreated into your shared chambers. It felt like you didn't have a single friend in this damn castle as your family wasn't here. You already started to wonder if your letters have made it to them in the last month, as you didn't recieve any of them. You had a feeling that certain someone, has their claws in it. Here and there, you would go to your grandfather and sit by his bed. It hurted you to see him in this state. You would read to him, all until Alicent would come and woosh you out.

Targaryen, all alone amongst them. What a scary tought.

The doors of your bedroom flew open as your eyes fell on your husband who had a frown on his face as he entered. He didn't even seem drunk, for some reason. He may have took a cup or two, but not more. His eyes searched the room as they fell on you. They softened a little at the sight. You wore your nightgown, your hair let down in silver, silky waves as your violet eyes stared at him in wonder. You looked like a little deer, just waiting for the predator to sink it's teeth into you.

"Aegon?" Your voice got him out of the haze and the frown made it's way back.

"What seems to trouble you, husband?" You step towards him and reach out your hand, but before you can even touch him, he slaps it away. You pull back shocked. Your mouth little gaped as you couldn't believe it. "Aegon, what has gotten into you!"

He groans rolling his eyes and turning his back away from you, undoing his shirt roughly. "What has gotten into me?" He was irritaded and his voice deep and above whisper.

"The fact that you seem so comftrable next to male servants, laughing and touching their hands. So happy and out of your mind that you can't spare your husband a glare." He says angrily, throwing his shirt away, his bare back staring at you as he leans on a chair staring at the fire. He was out of mind to think that you would give anyone else attention than him.

You did laugh with servants, but because today you didn't look where were you going and you collided with them. You felt sorry for you to be so into your head and you helped them up, laughing about the situation.

The confusion you had has been replaced with anger. "The fuck did you say?" You saw his back freezing at your tone. He turns around, his head leaned a little with a deep frown. "Did you just cuss?"

"I did. And I will fucking again, for your head to be so fucking high in your ass that you blame me for something you think you saw, while you go and fuck the others as your wife waits for you, in your shared fucking chambers and hopes that just for one damn moment you would come and be the same sweet boy you once were." You stood with your hands opened wide as anger seeped off of you.

Something in him steered for a moment. To see you like this. To voice it off. To show fire in your eyes. His mother may have been wrong about you. "Please, and you have to go to a first men to find comfort in." He shakes his head at you, still blinded by his jealousy.

You chuckle at him biting your tounge. "I have no fucking friend here Aegon. No one. And for you to come and throw accusations like this, at my face. You fucking idiot. Haven't you seen how much I wanted to be your wife? How much I wanted to be given to you? And instead, you go off and fuck the others. You had me just once, on our wedding night and you were drunk."

You smirk knowing the next words would sting him. "Couldn't even satifsy a woman." You see something in his eyes flash.

His breathing deepens. His eyes narrow at you. Did he heard you right? Couldn't satisfy? Maybe you were right, because he didn't show you what you truly meant. What he needed to do to you. His eyes fell to your nightgown. He looks back, your eyes meeting his.

"Take it off." His voice deep and raspy. His eyes dark and hungry. He takes a slow step towards you, but you didn't move an inch. "Take it off before I rip it off." He stood in front of you and wanted to wipe off that challenging look out of your face.

You felt your stomach taking turns. You have never seen Aegon like this, moving to you like you were a prey. You have hit the nerve. "You wouldn't dare." You pull your chin up to look at him even more challenging. Huff came out of him. Then a deep chuckle, raspy and dark. It made your legs almost weak to see him smirk like that.

You weren't sure how it happened so fast, but your nightgown has been ripped and on the floor as you were pinned under him on the bed. Gasp left your lips as his hand found your needy cunt, spreading the wetness around. His fingers worked his way as your moan was captured with his lips against yours. You did have to touch yourself for nights wishing your husband to be here to help you, but you couldn't imagine anything would feel like this.

The hunger you both sweeped off, the desire. It was all bottled up and finally it's seeping out as he pulls himself out of his tightt pants and pushes into you slowly as his hand found your throat. He looks at you deep in the eye as he pulls out and slams back into you, another whimper and moan getting out of your lips.

"I have dared. And I find it stimulating."

[bunnyrafe]

𓊆ྀིRULES OF ENGAGEMENT𓊇ྀི — rafe & reader make their official debut at midsummers, but things can never seem to go to plan.

♥︎ 𝓃otes: so excited to share this one with everyone— i adore playing around with AUs and dynamics. enjoy xoxo

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. 900. arranged marriage AU. f!reader, kook!reader, mean!rafe, drinking, violence.

from your understanding, it was more or less ward's last wish. it was something him and rafe had privately discussed with your parents while you were somewhere twiddling your thumbs, you suppose. you were to marry into the cameron family and there was very little you could do about it— even after ward's passing.

it’s the way things go. it’s what the island needs.

your mother and father were more than happy to send you off to tannyhill, helping you pack up your childhood bedroom into designer duffle bags. from your stuffed animals and comfort items, to your prettiest sundresses and most expensive heels.

that night while you unpacked everything you were inconsolable. shivering in your new room that seemed uncomfortably vacant despite the vintage furniture and floral wallpaper. you could feel rafe’s gaze on your back. it burned right through your blouse— it made your frame tremble and shake more than your sobs ever could, all while he silently stood in the doorway like a sociopath.

“things aren’t so bad here, y’know?” rafe almost sounded like he was lamenting— like he was trying to convince himself more so than you.. but his next words were like a dagger to your chest, “i can guarantee i’ll treat you better than your parents did— they couldn’t wait to get rid of you.”

he was gone before you could say anything in return. although it would have been tearful nonsense.

for the first time since you entered the house, you felt like you could breathe due to his sudden absence.

midsummers— you almost wonder if this was all coordinated. it can’t be a coincidence that your first sighting as an “engaged couple” is at midsummers. yet you try not to dwell on it, because it’s too late now anyway as rafe helps you out of his truck.

you land on your heeled feet with a squeak, quickly fixing the skirt of your dress while he scoffs at you, “could you have worn a shorter fuckin’ dress?”

“fuck off.”

you bite back with zero hesitation, snatching your hand away from his own and grabbing your clutch out of the passenger seat where you left it. you stomp away with a clicking sound every time your feet fall on the pavement, and rafe can’t help but grin before he slams the truck door shut and follows behind you.

it takes you all of two minutes to find a glass of champagne and your friends. you ignore rafe's fond gaze on you from the bar, assuming it's nothing but an act for all of the other kooks around the two of you to fall for and fawn over. you're trying to have a good night— you haven't had that luxury in months.

rafe is content at the bar. until he feels an unwanted presence. some guy he vaguely remembers from the private school you all went to. he has the nerve to eye rafe up and down, leaning over the bar right next to him and slurring on his words—

“you got a good one— huh, cameron?” rafe watches this bastard’s gaze travel to you. you, who’s giggling with your group of girls and lighting up the whole room… but you're still causing trouble in that dress— “hate to say it, but i can’t believe i didn’t get a chance with her before you got to her. bet she's real sweet... right?”

rafe cocks his head to the side, breathing in deeply before he brings his scotch glass to his lips, shooting the rest of his whiskey in a single second before he slams the crystal down on the wooden bartop. in an instant, he has this guy’s collar balled up in his fists. nearly choking him with the stiff cotton making up his dress shirt with not an ounce of remorse as he threatens him, meaning it with every fiber of his being— “y’ever even think about her again i’ll knock your fuckin’ teeth out— you hear me?”

when rafe lets go, he falls backwards.

a strong hand wraps around your bare arm, yanking you in whichever direction it wants you to go in while your eyebrows furrow and your face scrunches up.

rafe's voice meets your ears— "we gotta go."

at that your eyes meet his own. his irises are dark and his pupils are blown out with what you can only imagine is anger. his grip on your arm doesn't relent for a single second. especially now that he's dragging you out of the country club so fast that you're tripping over your feet. you feel dizzy with confusion, and the alcohol in your system only exacerbates the issue.

you throw your head over your shoulder, watching the fairy lights twinkle around the patio while both you and rafe get farther and farther away from them, "i haven't even talked to my parents yet..."

rafe only shoves you towards the car.

"why do you have to ruin everything?" you whisper as the waterworks start, just as rafe expected.

he grumbles in return, "shut the fuck up and get in the truck already."

the ride “home” is quiet. aside from your sniffles and tipsy babbles about how you want to go back. rafe grips the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles ache due to the tension, jaw locked even though there’s so much he would die to say to you.

if only you knew that he would kill for you.

[empress-simps]

Uncle Padfoot’s Motorcycle

Pairing: Dad! Remus x Mom! Reader CW: Language and Remus who’s gonna face the wrath of his wife. Summary: Uncle Sirius takes baby Moony out for a ride on his motorcycle and you aren't happy about it.

Note: I’ve literally enjoyed writing this, and dad! Marauders literally make me hdiskskssjska ALSO THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS YOU GUYS🫨🥹 I LOVE Y’ALL

"Sirius Orion Black and Remus John Lupin!"

Sirius could feel his soul practically leave his body as he saw you, in your ever angry form, march to where he is handing your year old daughter to Remus' awaiting arms.

This is it, this is how Sirius thinks he’s going to leave the face of the Earth.

"Erm, I have to go! See you next week yeah?" Sirius clambers onto his motorcycle, praying to any deity that he would fly faster than you hexing him with your wandless magic.

"Bye pah foo!" Lyra grins, her four teeth in clear display as Sirius looked back and waved, "See you soon, baby moony! Have to go before mummy hexes me to no end!"

Remus watched his friend blankly, deep down wishing he too was in the back of the motorcycle with Lyra so he could escape the imminent wrath his wife that was to rain down on him.

“Remus. John. Lupin.”

Each word you uttered was like a nail on his coffin. He tried his best not to wince as he heard how utterly cold and sharp you spat his name out. So, gathering up his remaining courage, he faced you with a smile- and he definitely didn’t place your squealing baby girl in front of him, making her somewhat his shield. He hoped the cuteness of Lyra would soften the blow quite a bit.

“Hi, darling! You’re back early- “

“Tell me I did just not see our one-year-old baby land in front of our house riding Sirius’ flying motorcycle or so merlin help me I will strangle you.” You warned, taking Lyra from his hands, who happily snuggled in your arms.

Well, shit.

There goes his only chance of living.

He offered a wry smile, ignoring how sweaty his hands had become. ���Alrighty, I won’t tell you- “

“Remus! You seriously thought it was a good idea to let our child ride a flying motorcycle? She just turned a year-old last week for Merlin’s sake!” You scolded, poor Remus. Call him a seer because he can already see himself sleeping on the couch for the entire week, a few days if he’s lucky.

“Darling, Sirius and I made sure it was completely safe.” He tried to explain, “Lyra doesn’t even have a helmet! What were you guys thinking?!” You hugged your baby closer to your chest.

“Well, Padfoot said it’s unnecessary since they’re technically flying.” You scoffed in disbelief as you comforted Lyra who started to fuss. “Remind me to make Sirius fall next time I set his eyes on him on that darn vehicle of his.”

Remus could only let out a nervous chuckle. "Erm, I will."

“Why was Padfoot even here the first place?” You raised an eyebrow, going back inside the house to place Lyra in her playpen as Remus followed you like a servant who’s trying to regain your favor. “He also took Harry out for a ride. After that, he went here and told me Lyra should also experience it.”

You turned around and faced him, a hand on your hips. “I’m guessing Lily isn’t aware- because there is no way in her right mind that she would let her two-year-old son ride a flying motorcycle.”

His silence was the only thing you needed to hear from him.

“Where even were you when he took Lyra out for a ride?”

He blinks stupidly, “Outside, watching them.”

“You better choose your next words carefully Lupin.”

“I was supposed to ride with them, darling! But Sirius already took off when I was about to get onto the motorcycle!” He explains, hoping it’ll be enough to save him as he recalled the events from earlier.

“Pah foo!” Lyra grinned as she clapped her hands excitedly, her sandy brown hair that was tied in pigtails was swaying with every move she made. Sirius returned her excitement, bypassing Remus who answered the door and made a beeline to the squealing baby.

“There’s my baby Moony!” He lifts Lyra up from her playpen and peppers her face with kisses while Remus smiled, rolling his eyes playfully. “I’m starting to think you’re just visiting so you can hang out with my daughter, Padfoot.”

Sirius turned to look at him, smiling playfully as Lyra tugged on his curls. “I’m afraid so, Moony.” He then turned his attention to the child. “Now, who wants to go on an adventure with uncle Padfoot?”

Sirius’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he held Lyra aloft, her giggles filling the room. “We’ll soar over the treetops, chase the clouds, and maybe even race a few owls, eh?” He bounced her gently, eliciting more delighted squeals.

Remus watched them, a fond smile on his face, thinking that his best mate wouldn’t seriously do it. “Just make sure you keep her within sight, Padfoot. No loops or dives,” he added with a mock sternness that fooled neither Sirius nor Lyra.

Sirius mock saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain Moony!” He turned to Lyra, whispering conspiratorially, “Your dad’s just worried we’ll have too much fun without him.”

Remus didn’t even know how it happened, he just suddenly became aware of the situation when Sirius and Lyra were off, the flying motorcycle roaring to life as they took to the skies, leaving a trail of laughter, the faint smell of engine oil in their wake, and a faint ‘I fly, dada!’ from Lyra.

You sighed, effectively pulling him out of his thoughts. “At least Lyra’s safe, I know Sirius wouldn’t endanger his god daughter.”

You watched as Remus’s eyes softened; the worry lines smoothed out from his forehead. “Yes, Lyra is safe, and Sirius might be reckless, but he’s also fiercely protective,” he agreed, his voice carrying a note of gratitude. You hummed in agreement.

Remus tested the waters, “So… I won’t be sleeping in the couch, right?”

You couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, the tension from earlier dissipating like morning fog in the sunlight. “No, Remmy, you won’t be sleeping on the couch,” you said, your voice laced with a hint of amusement. “But let’s agree that any future flights require both parents’ approval, alright?”

Remus let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Agreed, and I promise, no more surprises,” he said earnestly, reaching out to take your hand.

Just then, Lyra’s babbling caught your attention, and you both turned to see her playing with a small, plush fox, looking eerily similar to your animagus form that Sirius must have sneaked into her playpen.

“Maybe we can’t protect her from everything, but we can make sure she knows she’s loved and safe,” you mused aloud, watching Lyra.

Remus nodded, his eyes reflecting the same sentiment. “That’s all we can do,” he agreed. “And maybe teach her a few tricks so she can outfly Sirius one day,” he added with a wink.

You glared at him playfully, then laughed, imagining a future where Lyra, with her inherited Marauder’s cunning, would indeed give Sirius a run for his money. “Now that’s a plan I can get behind,” you said with a smile.

As the night drew on, the house filled with the soft sounds of a family at peace. The day’s adventures were recounted with laughter and gentle teasing, and plans for a grounded tomorrow were made. And in that moment, all was well in the world of magic and mischief.

[leighsartworks216]

Fallen Angel

Sylus x gn!Reader (more fem-coded)

I literally didn't do work yesterday when I told myself I would bc of this fic. I was so in it that I had to keep working on it or else. And I'm so glad I did cuz I love writing in the Raven universe I've created

Warnings: torture, blood, injury, gun violence, mind control, swearing, (wanting to) vomit, slight invasion of privacy, pet names, sleep deprivation, alcohol + drinking, possessive behavior, kissing, some religious imagery, selectively mute reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 4,887

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

The Raven Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form (Fill this out to be tagged in future works!)

“Look at you. Sylus’s prized pup.”

Electricity tears through your body. It steals the air from your lungs. Your bloodied fingernails dig into the wood of the chair. Your legs shake against their will. You grit your teeth so hard they hurt. You taste copper.

When it stops, your body sags forward, chest heaving desperately for air through the aftershocks of pain. You refuse to scream for them. Refuse to let them hear your voice when it is reserved for one man only.

“Give it up already, pup.” The man supervising your torture grabs your chin in deceptively soft hands, contradicting the tight hold he has on your jaw. He brushes his thumb against your lower lip. It comes away red. “He would have found you by now if he actually cared. You know that.”

You glare at him. Silent.

“Besides, be honest with yourself, pup,” he leans in close, too close, “why would a man like him need a bodyguard?” He tilts your head to one side, then the other. “You’re just a mangy stray he took in out of pity. A fighting dog. Good at ripping out throats, and nothin’ else. Ain’t that right?”

He shoves your face away sharply. Your world spins from that small action alone, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut until you see spots in the darkness. Boots scrape along the floor behind you. You take in one last gasp of air before the metal touches your skin.

-

Sylus checks his messages again. Nothing.

No texts, no calls, no mysterious notes before you left.

Shouldn’t we set the rules for hide-and-seek before the game starts?

It isn’t necessarily unusual for you to disappear, but it is unusual for you to ignore his messages. Even if you didn’t answer right away, you still read them. Now, the patronizing notice of Delivered stares back at him.

He snaps his fingers and Mephisto is there in a flash, perched on his finger and rapt with attention. The poor bird is missing you, too. His hoard of trinkets to give you is stagnant - nothing coming in and nothing going out. He’s too nervous to even go collect more.

“Search Linkon City. Any sign of them, you report it.”

The mechanical crow leaps off his finger and out the window in a flash.

In the next instant, the twins are standing before him, summoned by a quick message. They stand at attention, too. No banter passes between them. “Search the N109 Zone for any sign of Raven. By any means necessary.”

“On it, Boss.”

“Sure thing, Boss!”

He stares at the messages again as their footsteps recede into the hall. He scans your last message, searching for any miniscule clue as to where you’ve run off to.

One of my old “colleagues” is bugging me again :/

Want me to take care of them for you?

I can do it myself

I know you can, sweetheart

It was too vague to go off of. You were very tight-lipped about your past, only making off-handed comments about it here and there: You don’t sing anymore (implying you did once, which came as a minor shock to him), your apparent wealth is stolen (but no hints to where from), and you’re more familiar with the streets of Linkon than the N109 Zone. Never any mentions of past dealings you had before, or anything close to a partnership that could have involved “colleagues”.

The longer he sits here, straining for any glimpse of a past you never involved him in, the more he wishes he’d asked more. It wasn’t for lack of interest, but you weren’t very vocal at the best of times. It felt more appropriate to leave it alone and wait for you to offer up tidbits on your own.

-

Two prominent marks marr your skin, presenting where the alligator clips had pressed into your back over and over and over again. Charred flesh, bubbling with blisters. Something sharp pops one of them. You draw blood from your cheek to avoid screaming.

The man sighs. “You’re a stubborn one.” He pushes off of the wall and leans down to be face-to-face with you. “What’s it gonna take to get you to sing for us?”

Your body trembles with exertion as you raise your head. You haven’t been allowed to sleep. Every time your eyes droop, you get shocked. You fight not to collapse. You can’t let the torture break you. You can’t.

He smirks as he sees the blood dribbling from your mouth, mixing with saliva and snot as it trails down your chin. His satisfaction sickens you. For as much as you understand the thrill, understand the rush of bringing someone to their knees before you, you never looked at them like this. This is revolting.

You spit in his face.

“Ah, fuck!” He almost falls on his ass as he jerks away. His nice sleeve is ruined as he wipes his face.

Lightning sears through your nerves. It burns you up inside. Your muscles clench harshly, spasming uncontrollably. All air rushes out of you. It feels like drowning. Your eyes stare at the bright white light on the ceiling, unable to cry out, unable to look away. Unable to breathe.

For the first time since this whole thing began, tears form in your eyes.

The clips are removed from your skin. Colored and black spots obscure the blurry light. You think you might pass out. You think you’ve reached the end of your resolve.

And then you can breathe again.

The breaths come in wheezy and ragged. Your body lurches forward as you cough. Your throat spasms, stomach twisting with the need to throw up. But nothing comes out. You dry heave into your lap, blood landing in wet droplets on your pants.

The man pulls your head up by your hair. You can’t see him. Can’t see the ugly grimace on his face. Your eyes won’t open. You cough, desperate to vomit in the false hope that it would make you feel better. Hot tears slip down your cheeks.

“You-!” He growls in frustration as he drops your head again. You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his shoes as he paces back and forth in front of you. “Okay. Okay! Fine! You can rest now, pup. How’s that sound? You can take a nice, long nap. Sounds good, right?”

You don’t answer him. Don’t show any signs you even heard him.

“Keep an eye on them. I’m gonna go fucking change.”

-

Sylus hasn’t been idle. Fully aware of the breach to your privacy, he taps away at your laptop. The password wasn’t guessed, merely bypassed. He didn’t trust that he’d be able to guess it before being locked out.

He pulls up the same messenger app you use on your phone. Bypassing the password again, he watches the spinning buffer as it syncs up with your phone. It takes far too long. He busies himself with going through your search history with no luck. You know how to play this game, how to meander in and out of danger without leaving any traces. It’s a remarkable talent that frustrates him to no end right now.

No messages from Luke, Kieran, or Mephisto.

A quiet jingle comes from your laptop speakers as the sync completes. He searches the most recent messages, ignoring his own despite the red dot next to his avatar. One chat exchange in particular catches his eye:

Hello, angel~ When u gonna come sing for me again?

Never.

So ur still alive then? Thats good to hear

Ive missed u <3

Stop sending your men after me. Our business is done.

U know damn well it isnt. U reneged our agreement AND stole from me

U owe me bigger than ever, angel

You’ve made more since I left. You’re not hurting for funds.

Its the principle of the matter

U still flaked

- Read 9:38pm, Thursday -

Okay, don’t respond

But if u want this stain off ur back, u gotta finish ur deal

Same stakes as before

Ill even shorten ur sentence to one week

Now doesnt that sound fair?

- Read 12:02am, Friday -

Second Circle

David will pick u up

No thanks.

Fine. See u in hell, angel~

By the end, Sylus’s face is set in a sour sneer. The way whoever this was spoke to you was demeaning, controlling, disgusting. They acted like they owned you. You’re a bird that can’t be caged; Sylus knows this well.

But, it’s the best lead he’s got. Nothing else is as recent as this, except for your text to him complaining about your old “colleague”.

He messages Mephisto, telling him to scope out the Second Circle, a nightclub on the outskirts of Linkon. He starts digging into the place, its owner, and what he can do to have a meeting with them.

-

You fight sleep for as long as you can. You try everything to avoid letting the exhaustion sink in. You rub your wrists raw with the rope holding you down, hoping the pain will distract you, but the person overlooking you stops you immediately. You try to put together and take apart a gun in your mind, imagining the heft of it in your hand, the recoil that shoots up your arm, the satisfaction shooting these fuckers in the face would bring. You even try running through your last escape from this place, mentally following the corridors and steps it took to secure your freedom.

None of it works. Against your will, your body gives in. You slip into dreamless sleep.

You don’t know how long it is when you’re awoken.

The chair tips, snapping your consciousness back to the present as gravity shifts. It falls backwards, the ceiling light bearing down on you like the desert sun. Your head hits the cold floor. Hard. Before your mind can catch up, a cry is torn from your throat.

The cry is cut short.

A haze of disconnection washes over your body. You can’t feel your pain, can’t feel your body. It’s like your mind is trapped in a prison. You’re forced to watch through wide eyes as the man leans over you.

“Finally…” His voice floats in like a distant echo. “Take them to the boss. He’s got his angel back.”

No. No, no, no, no, no.

You try to fight against them as they untie your hands and ankles, as they lift you up, as your legs start walking without your input. You try to scream. To lash out. To do anything.

And you can’t.

The man must notice your struggle. Must feel it through his Evol. “Relax, pup. The worst of it is over. Now you just gotta complete your end of the bargain.”

Your body walks down a long, familiar hallway. The doors at the end are wide open. A poker table sits in the middle of the room, surrounded by faces you wish you didn’t recognize. Some of them bear the scars of your last escape.

In a gilded throne, sitting across from the dealer with a tall stack of poker chips, is the man you’ve been running from.

The Devil.

-

The neon lights of the night club shine like a warning sign through the tinted windows of the car. The electronic red curves and twists of a script font. The outline of a devil girl lounging on top of the name, cleavage out and winking. Her tail ends in a sharp point, underlining the name.

The Second Circle.

The air in the vehicle is suffocating. Rage boils under the surface of Sylus’s skin, barely contained. His Evol burns his hands, aching to be released.

Luke opens his door as Kieran stands guard next to it.

You’re in there.

It’s been almost a week since you disappeared. Two days since Mephisto spotted you through the door of the club. One day since he requested an audience with its owner.

Sylus gets out of the car. Luke closes the door behind him. The twins flank his sides as he walks to the entrance. A long line of patrons waits to be let in by the bouncer, a man as tall as he was and twice as wide. He barely glances at Sylus before letting him in. The customers closest to the door fall eerily silent as he passes, oppressed by the energy surrounding him.

Purple, blue and red lights break up the darkness. Poles occupied by dancers are interspersed through the room, with girls dressed up in skimpy red devil costumes or sinfully revealing nun attire. One of the poles stands on a prominent stage, gauzy red curtains drawn to a close behind it. All three of them scan the room for signs of you with no luck.

Drunken dancers and tipsy customers pass by in a blur as he crosses the dance floor to a door hidden in the shadows. Two men in suits guard it, shoulder to shoulder.

“I have a meeting with the Devil,” he announces over the music. Despite the heat raging within him, his words are cold.

One of the men nods his head. “Mr. Sylus,” he greets, too warmly given the circumstances. “The Devil has asked that you please wait until after the main show. It will be starting soon.” He gestures over to the stage.

Sylus stares through them, searching for any reason why he really should wait and not release his Evol right now and tear his way through the building.

The lights shift from bright neons to sultry reds and oranges as the music fades out. The anticipation in the room is palpable as all eyes turn to the stage. A silhouette with feathery wings stands behind the curtain.

None of this was interesting to Sylus. What stopped him in his tracks was a voice. Your voice.

His eyes shoot to the stage, face hardening as he watches the curtains part.

You, dressed up in a white angel costume, altered from something pure and holy to be lustful. Wings stick from your back, short but no less enticing. He can’t hear the slow jazz music over the siren sound of your voice. Can’t feel the burning of his Evol as his eyes follow your movements to the pole.

“You must like this song,” he points out with a grin. “You keep humming along to it.”

You smirk as you meet his eye, not pausing as you copy the melody note for note. It’s much better than his singing.

“Do you know the words?”

You nod. You push yourself up from the sofa where you lounged to lay yourself across his lap. Your arms wrap around his neck, lips brushing against his ear as your humming fades away. “I don’t sing anymore.”

His hand trails along your spine before resting on your waist and pulling you closer. “Shall I sing them, then?”

You pinch his shoulder. He chuckles.

All at once, the music turns sour within him.

“Boss, is that…?” Luke pipes up.

Kieran shakes his head. “No, it can’t be. Right?”

His hand clenches into a fist by his side. It’s minutes of torture. His eyes can’t seem to look away as you move fluidly around the pole, smiling too softly at the patrons who stand at the edge of the stage. At one point, you kneel down, knees spread apart, right in front of one of them. She gulps as you grab her by the chin, gently guiding her while you sing until her face is so close. If she’d been a little bolder, she could have met your lips. But your fingers trail along her jaw until you let go, slowly standing up while maintaining eye contact with her.

As soon as the final notes leave your lips, Sylus is at the door. He doesn’t stay to watch the curtains close. Luke and Kieran rush after him as he speeds off down a hallway.

Once the door closes, the cheering is silenced, unable to reach through the thick material. What takes its place is the laughter down the hall.

Each step feels too long. It seems to stretch on forever. Door after door, all leading up to the open double doors at the end of the hall. He only stops once he’s crossed the threshold, standing just inside the doorway as the players turn to acknowledge his presence.

The man in the throne doesn’t bother to pull his face out of your neck.

The sneer on Sylus’s face deepens. This isn’t you. You would never perch on another man’s lap like this. You would never giggle as his mouth drags over your skin, whispering sinful things in your ear. You would never turn to look at him like that, like he’s a stranger you’re passing in the street.

“We have business.”

The Devil sighs boredly, finally drawing away from the angel in his lap to look at Sylus. He smirks easily. He’s completely relaxed. The players set their cards down slowly.

“Well, well, well. Mr. Sylus. How nice to finally make your acquaintance.”

“What did you do to them?”

“Who, me?” He chuckles. He reaches for a glass on the edge of the table and brings it calmly to his lips, drinking the expensive scotch long and slow. “I didn’t do anything.”

Sylus sighs sharply, bored of this game. “Fine. What did your men do to them?”

The Devil cocks his head to the side, smirking wider. It looks too big for his face. “Nothin’ they couldn’t handle.”

Luke and Kieran keep a close eye on the poker players as their hands reach beneath the table. Their own hands come to rest at the weapons on their hips.

“Didja wanna make a deal, or are you just gonna stand there all night?”

There is no deal that could be made that would be fair. The Devil already had what he wanted - you. Under his control, on his lap, answering to his every whim. If he can’t deal with the Devil…

“Whose Evol is it, sweetie?”

You tilt your head. It’s familiar, and it’s horrifically not you. “What do you mean, mister?”

His right eye glows as he levels his stare on you. He’s never used this on you before. It feels like a betrayal of your autonomy. Somehow, he knows you forgive him.

A face flickers across his vision. Blood stains a nasty grimace. You desire the owner of that face to die. You don’t care how. Your rage almost makes him dizzy.

He pulls a gun from his waistband. The owner of the face stands first, aiming for the Onychinus leader. Sylus shoots first.

Blood splatters on the cards.

All hell breaks loose.

Your eyes seem to come into focus in a flash. Luke and Kieran are too quiet as they shoot down the other players at the table. Sylus’s own Evol reaches throughout the room, evaporating bullets before they can hit either of the twins, himself, or you. He doesn’t stop watching you.

Your face is contorted with fury. The usual calm neutrality that hides your emotions when you fight is gone. You shatter the glass of scotch on the wooden rim of the poker table. The shard you grab digs into your hand as you aim for the Devil’s jugular. He grabs your wrist with one hand, the other gripping your throat in a vice grip. Even as you lose oxygen, you fight back. You will never stop fighting back. You shake with effort as you push against his hand, but you’re gaining ground.

A black and red tendril of smoke grabs the Devil’s wrist, wrenching his hand away. The shard of glass goes clean through his skin, through his artery, until the pointed tip is caressing his spine.

He sputters up at you with wide eyes, choking on blood. It stains the white of your costume. Stains your skin. Stains the table. His hold on your neck loosens.

You lean down to his ear. “Our deal is over.”

Blood gurgles in his throat as he tries to protest, to argue, to get the last word in.

His hand falls from your throat, hanging limply off the side of the throne. The life drains from his eyes.

The room is still. Bodies lay across the floor. Some lean over the table. Chips and cards are scattered everywhere.

Luke and Kieran disappear down the hall, taking care of the rest of the security that would prevent your escape. Sylus steps over the carnage as he rounds the table. You slowly let go of the glass, not bothering to hide your wince as tiny fragments imbed themselves in your flesh. He wordlessly helps you stand from the dead man’s lap, hands becoming stained with the same blood that covers you.

You finally meet his eyes. And it’s you. The pain and anger and hatred in your eyes is too real, too genuine, to be faked by a puppet master. He brushes the blood splatter off your face with the back of his fingers. You lean into the touch without hesitation.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice soft.

You take a deep breath in and release it through your nose. You slowly nod.

“The car’s waiting outside.”

You take a step forward. Your knees give out underneath you. Sylus catches you before you can hit the ground. You hiss in pain as you grab onto him with your injured hand by pure instinct. Your body is still trying to recover from the torture, from the sleep deprivation, from being under someone else’s relentless control for so long. He effortlessly lifts you into his arms.

“You can rest now,” he whispers against your hair. You can feel the rumble of each word deep within his chest. It calls to you, encouraging you to let go. You give in willingly this time, holding onto his shirt even as your blood seeps into the expensive fabric, and close your eyes with your ear pressed to his heart.

You look so small and fragile in his arms. He glances at the miserable man in his gilded throne. If you hadn’t already killed him, he would have delighted in torturing him the same way they’d done to you.

The hallway feels shorter as he carries you out of the building. His Evol lashes out at anybody that tries to stop him that the twins missed; footmen who flood in from the side doors. The club is devoid of patrons by the time he passes through the door at the end of the hall. Dancers panic as they hold each other, free from the same power that controlled you minutes prior. Luke holds open the front door. Kieran holds open the rear passenger side door. The car pulls away from the curb minutes before police arrive.

-

You wake up in agony.

Your shoulder blades are the worst. Excruciating pain pulses into your muscles from the injuries left behind from the alligator clamps that pumped electricity into your body. You’re laying on your stomach to avoid making it worse. It doesn’t feel like it can get worse.

You force yourself up onto your hands and knees, your body screaming at you to get away. You can’t see where you are through silent tears that plop on the pillow you were just using.

“Kitten,” Sylus quietly calls out. You recognize his hands on your sides as he gently lowers you back down to your stomach. You sob into the pillow. “Stay still. I’ll be back in a minute.”

You clutch at the covers and pillows until your knuckles are white. A bandage is wrapped around your hand. Blood begins to seep through it.

The bed dips beside you when he gets back. Cool cloths are draped over your back, tamping down the burning temporarily. You sigh with relief. As your fingers relax, Sylus takes your damaged hand and begins unwrapping the stained bandage. His touch is tender, careful not to hurt you further.

“Tell me the next time you intend to settle a debt.” Despite how careful he is to make his voice sound neutral and unbothered, it’s edged with genuine worry and care.

You nod slightly.

With the bandage removed, you can see through your blurry vision the telltale sign of stitches pulling your skin closed along the width of your palm. A couple of them are snapped, but there are still enough in place that fixing it now would bring more pain than necessary. His hands don’t falter as he wraps fresh gauze around the agitated wound.

“I’m sorry…” You don’t need to look to know his red eyes are trained on your face. You can tell in the way he pauses, freezing for just a moment right before he starts wrapping your hand in a new bandage. “He wasn’t this… powerful before. Back then, it was my own desperation that caused me to stay, not some fucked up Evol.”

He huffs, remembering the messages that led him to you. “How much did you steal from him?”

You shoot him a disapproving look, knowing immediately just how he got that info, but the quirk of your lips betrays your amusement. “I almost emptied the whole account.”

He chuckles as he tapes the bandage in place. You lay your hand back down on the bed. He brushes some tears from your cheek. For you to let your guard down around him so freely, especially after what you went through… “Where else are you hurt?”

“Bumped my head, but it’s not so bad anymore,” you assure him. It wouldn’t be good business to have your prized dancer covered in bruises and welts. The wings of your costume had hid the damage to your back pretty well. Besides, nobody was looking at your back when you sang anyway. Your neck had some bruising from the final confrontation. It would fade with time.

The bed shifts again as he stands up. You can see him disappear into the bathroom out of the corner of your eye. From a window right nearby, a familiar black shape swoops in. Mephisto wastes no time in cuddling up to your cheek, tucking his body by your neck. His beak nips gently at your ear and cheeks while he makes a strange cooing noise.

You smile, closing your eyes and basking in his affections. “Hello, Mephie. I missed you, too.” He clicks his beak and bites the corner of your lips. “I’ll tell you where I go next time, too, okay?” Seeming to approve your promise, he starts preening your hair.

“You’re going to wear your voice out if you keep talking so much,” Sylus teases. He sets a glass of water on the nightstand and sets two pills beside it. They’re not regular over the counter pain meds; these are definitely heavier duty.

You look up at him sadly. He catches your meaning in an instant. You want your voice to run raw, until speaking hurts too much. You’ve spoken so much the last few days against your will, you need to remember how to shut up again, need to remember the pain of talking.

Mephisto complains as Sylus slowly helps you into a sitting position, fluffing up against the pillow as he watches on impatiently. The cloths fall from your back. He sets them aside once he’s sure you won’t fall over. You hold the pills in your mouth as you take a sip of the water, closing your eyes and focusing on swallowing everything without gagging. You drain half of the glass after with a sigh.

He takes the glass and helps you lay back down. The cloths are replaced on your burns.

“You should get some more rest,” he says. Mephisto picks at the fine hairs on the back of your neck, continuing his preening. “It’ll be easier to sleep this off.”

You pat the bed next to you with your good hand, giving him a pointed, questioning look. He leans down and places a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“How could I say no to you?”

You watch as he undresses and puts on something more comfortable to sleep in. You flip your head over when he crawls in beside you. He lays on his side, hand gently tracing your cheek and jaw. He watched the movement. Your hand glides up his arm to put a stop to his restlessness. Crimson eyes meet yours.

You smile. The motion captures his attention. You drag your fingers lightly along his arm, up his shoulder, and to his cheek. His skin prickles everywhere you touch. A red-hot possessiveness wells inside him, desperate for him to be the only person to experience you like this, mixing with fear that he may never know exactly what they used you for before his arrival. And… something softer, full of longing. A desire to keep you safe, to ensure you never have to be afraid with him.

He leans forward with very little coaxing, capturing your mouth like it will redeem him of every sin he’s ever committed. It’s reverent, full of silent worship. Your lips tremble. He cups your cheek as he kisses you again and again and again.

This will never happen again.

You sigh into his mouth, pure relief stealing the tension from your body.

I know.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44

[lovemly4]

Hi there! Not sure if you're open for request but if you dont, feel free to ignore 😅 my request will be lando x reader, whereby he's dating a very shy reader so its normal for her to want to keep their relationship very private. However, one day, reader told lando that she's ready to watch him race and support him irl and it makes him so so happy and both of them were smiley and giggly while walking on the paddock. Hope that's okay!

I’m here with you - Lando Norris

word count: 841 ; genre: fluff ; pairing: Lando Norris x reader ; warnings: none, just teeth rotting fluff ☆

Note: Hii, of course requests are open!! And this is so cute omfg, i feel like Lando would be super respectful of you boundaries, but his eyes would light up when you tell him that you’re ready to support him in person to his races.

Wednesday, Nov 29th, 2023

My heart jumped at the sound of the front door opening. It had been three days since the Abu Dhabi GP, and during our time apart we tried to contact each other every time we could.

“My darling, i missed you so much” he exclaimed against my shoulder as I hugged him, inhaling his familiar perfume. I felt a little bad at his words, a little thunder striking through my heart.

Despite being in a relationship with him for four months already, I’ve never felt ready enough to make it public; but what was I so afraid of? I didn’t really know, actually.

I feared that people would come at me, telling me that I wasn’t enough, that he deserved someone better, maybe? Yes, most definitely.

Something held me back, despite my wish to make him the happiest man in the world.

“I missed you too Lan, I’m sorry i wasn’t able to be there with you” I apologized, my hand making its way to his cheek.

He smiled comprehensively.

“You don’t need to apologize love, I know. I would never force you into something you don’t feel comfortable doing” He said in a tone a little louder than just a whisper.

I placed a little peck on his lips, and reached out to help him with his luggages.

Friday, Feb 23rd, 2024

I looked at the tallest shelf in our shared walk-in closet, carefully choosing Lando’s shirts.

My face assumed a concentrated look, as the man walked in behind me placing his hand on my waist.

“Sweetheart, we don’t need to put so much effort in choosing my clothes, you know? I’ll probably be wearing my suit most of the time, anyway” he chuckled, stroking my side.

“I know Lan, but it’s the first race of the season! You must look good!” I talked back, reaching for the Quadrant shirt.

I followed him out of the closet, laying his shirt flat beside his joggers.

I studied him silently as he was organizing the space in his bag.

“…Lando, will you be alone in Bahrain?” i asked hesitantly, nervously playing with the hem of my sleeve.

“Oh no, my team will be there, of course. Zack will arrive two days later than me, he mentioned a problem with his son or something. I’ll meet Oscar outside the airport there.”

I stayed hushed, quietly working out my thoughts as he locked the luggage.

“What if… What if i come with you? To Bahrain. To the race.” i tried to ask, timidly hiding my hands in my pockets.

He turned to me all of a sudden, eyes wide open like a deer caught in headlights.

“Did i heard that right? You’re not joking, are you? Are you serious?” he spoke quickly, almost as if he was trying to convince himself of what he had just heard.

I laughed at his reaction as he took my hands in his.

“Are you really sure y/n? I don’t want you to regret this. I won’t complain if you change your mind.” he sat me on the edge of our shared bed, reassuring me with kind words.

“I’ve never been so sure, Lan. I think it’s about time, i want to cheer you in person and show you all my support” i warmly smiled, and he started bouncing like a little boy. He bursted out of the room before i could process something to say.

“Where are you going?” i shouted, keeping an ear out to detect his distant voice.

“To take your bags!”

Saturday, Mar 2nd, 2024, present day.

A light breeze sways my dress, as I hold Lando’s hand through the paddock.

He never stopped chuckling like a baby since we’ve landed, and now he’s introducing me to every soul on the track.

He walks me to the garage, running to his car and patting the big “4” in the front.

“This is her. Isn’t she beautiful? Hopefully she’ll be a good girl on the track.” I laugh at his seriousness and he copies me, placing his arm around my waist.

“Look, this is where you’re going to sit during the race. You can hear me through the headset. Those are all the monitors through which you can see me. If you need something, let the guys know ok?”

I squeeze his hand reassuringly, and his mind seems to stop wandering for a moment. He has always been so good at hiding his thoughts and feelings, but the quick rise and fall of his chest betrays his calmness.

“Lan, breathe. I’m fine, you’re fine. We’re fine. And most importantly, we’re here together.”

One of the engineers calls for Lando and Oscar, but the light in his eyes is peaceful now.

“I love you. Thank you for being here with me”

I kiss him deeply, and watch him run away with his teammate.

The red lights go out.

The race finally begins, and he couldn’t be happier. He feels safe, and he’s so grateful to have by his side someone so brave and caring.

No matter how it goes, the only thing he cares to win is your heart.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Logan Howlett x mutant fem!reader

Summary: When you get unwillingly administered the cure, you find solace in someone you don't think you deserve to see again.

Genre: fluff, hurt and comfort, steamy ♥️

Warnings: protective!logan, violence, blood, death, swearing, logan never liked jean in this, making out, talking out insecurities, fingering

LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

You didn't have much of a choice when you joined Magneto seeing as your boyfriend was obsessed with him and the movement he stood for. You didn't necessarily agree, having once been a student of Charles', but love is a powerful persuasion tool. 

Your boyfriend, Parker, currently has a guard in a headlock, a smirk on his face as he uses his sharp, wolf-like, teeth to rip a chunk out of the man's jaw, a dangerous gleam in his vibrant orange eyes. You're using the electricity from the gates to stun some men who come charging at you, keeping a stern eye on Parker because of how volatile he can become. 

You don't want him to fatally hurt anyone.  

Suddenly the bud of a plastic gun is slammed into your temple, causing you to stumble sideways and onto the sharp rubble. The skin on your arms is scratched as you cry out in pain, rolling onto your stomach as dirt sticks to your skin.

Parker's head snaps around just as one of the guards shoots the cure into your neck, the serum acting instantly as the light blue highlights in your hair quickly vanish and you let out a deep exhale.

Parker snarls and yanks the man away from you, crouching beside you as he looks you over. You sit up, blood dripping from your head and arms. Your body feels numb and so weirdly still as you can no longer feel any electricity coursing inside you anymore. You look up at your boyfriend, tears brimming. 

You wish you could say you don't recognize the angry look in your eyes, but you do and he snarls as his eyes narrow. You feel a sense of dread wash over you. "You're not one of us anymore," he spits, standing up and unsheathing his claws. You shake your head, trying to scramble away from him as your heart sinks.

"Parker? Please," you whimper, "It's still me."

Parker leans down and clutches your hair, pulling you up as he growls when he doesn't see the highlights anymore. You scream out, clutching at his wrist as your toes barely touch the gravel.

"I don't want to be dating one of them," he tells you harshly, his hand coming up to your throat as his smirks widen. "You're useless now. Weak. Pathetic." 

His palm rests on your stomach, claws not yet touching your skin as he looks into your eyes. "I'm doing you a favor," he tells you and presses a harsh kiss on your forehead. "Be fucking happy I am showing you some mercy."

You squeeze your eyes shut, unable to defend yourself as you wait for the slash of his claws when Parker suddenly grunts. You open your eyes to blood dripping from his mouth. His hold on your loosens as he's thrown across the ground and you fall to your knees, cheeks smeared with tears as you look up.

Logan. 

He's panting, his claws unsheathed as they drip with Parker's blood. He looks down at you, his eyes sharp. "Hello again, Princess," he grumbles and leans down, looking at you intensely. His claws disappear and he strokes his thumb over the mark where the cure had been given and he shakes his head. He scoops you up in his arms and he feels all too familiar.

Your head feels heavy as Logan carries you. You lean against him. You haven't seen him in a year and his scent feels so unfamiliar. You don't like that.

"You have a type, don't you?" he comments, but he doesn't sound amused. Your heart sinks as your hands weakly tighten around his arm. You had chosen Parker over him a year ago, the memory hitting you so hard you feel sick.

"Y/n, stay," Logan breathed, watching you pack your suitcase on your bed. "Please," he was pleading, the feeling of the kiss you two had shared the night before lingering.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, ignoring him and the tears that fell down your cheek when you heard Parker shoo Logan away from your door, doing nothing to stop him.

"I- I- I was hit," you whisper, unable to keep your eyes open.

"'Can see that." Logan huffs, his touch rough as he adjusts his grip on you and runs past Storm. "I'm taking her onto the plane," he says without any room for protest. Storm looks confused but her eyes widen when she sees a glimpse of you. 

Logan sets you on the seat, his hand coming up to your hair where he touches the strand where your hair used to be white and he frowns. Your eyelids flutter from the exhaustion and all you want to do is sleep and hope you wake up from this nightmare. 

Instead, you wake up to Logan's scent as your head nuzzles into the pillow of his bed. You groan, sitting up. You have a splitting headache and you wince. You're still wearing your clothes from last night. 

Last Night. 

No.

You stand on wobbly legs, rushing through familiar halls as you stumble past students and into the bathroom. You slam the door behind you. Tears glisten your eyes when you see your appearance in the mirror and you let out a curling scream. 

Logan, even in the kitchen, hears you and his blood runs cold. He sprints into action, running into the bathroom just in time to catch you from falling. "Woah there, sugar," he huffs, his arms wrapping around your waist as you both crumble to the floor of the bathroom. "Shhh," he says as he presses his palm over your forehead as you continue to scream, your screams gradually turning into sobs. 

"Hey, shh, baby, shhh," he whispers roughly into your ear, his facial hair scratching your cheek. He's holding you tighter now and you just sob loudly. Your throat eventually begins to hurt so you turn your head and bury your face in Logan's shirt.

Logan manages to convince you to walk back into his room and he sits you on his bed again. He kneels in front of you, his eyes roaming over your form as he brings his calloused hand up to wipe the tears from your cheek.

You sniff, staring at him. "You must hate me."

Logan looks down, concealing a smirk. "What makes you think that, sugar?"

You tilt your head, your hands trembling as your fingers find the tips of hair and you have to remember you can't touch him like that anymore. You pull away, chest heavy. "I left. I left and I worked for him. I hurt—I hurt people and—"

Logan chuckles deeply, interrupting you, "I find that hard to believe."

You stare at him, your expression serious. "I did. I- I wasn't a good person."

Logan's hand continues to caress your cheek. "Good people do bad things, Y/n. That doesn't make you any less of a good person."

"Not the things I did," you whisper as a tear slides down your cheek and your lip wobbles. "And I paid for it, didn't I?"

Logan shakes his head and grips your chin harder, forcing you to look into his eyes. "Don't say that. You didn't deserve to have your mutation stripped from you. You didn't deserve to have that dickhead try and kill you for something that was out of your control. You didn't deserve any of it, no matter what you've done. You- you should have stayed—"

The last sentence slips from his lips without thinking and his mouth closes. You're looking at him with those wide eyes he loves so much.

"You should have stayed," he whispers, this time with intention. "With me. You should have stayed with me."

Tears fill your eyes and you look away. "Logan," you warn him.

His hands grip your cheeks now. "No. Y/n. Listen to me. I love you. I have always loved you—you fucking know this. This year has been torture without you."

Your cheeks become wet with your tears. "I'm not the same anymore. I'm ruined. I- I don't even have my powers. I'm nobody."

Logan shakes his head, resisting the urge to press his lips against yours and soothe any insecurities you may have. He wants you to know he loves you no matter what. No matter who or what you've done. You're still the same girl to him.

You're the same girl who would walk around the gardens just for the mere chance a butterfly would land on you. You're the same girl who would check on him after a nightmare, no matter how many times he'd warned you he was dangerous. You're still that girl. 

He knows you are. 

You blink up at Logan, your eyes fluttering. You want to kiss him, but you don't feel worthy enough. You feel like a fraud in your own body, an imposter who took over. And worse than that, you'd left him. You'd chosen Parker over him. 

How could he want you now?

"If you're thinking of that dick—please, don't. He's fucking dead," Logan says with a growl, his eyes dark. You knew Parker had died—Logan had killed him protecting you—but to hear him sound so proud, it's thrilling and terrifying all the same. 

Logan picks up on your shift and his eyebrows scrunch. "I fucking killed him. Does that make me a bad person? Do you think less of me?" The atmosphere in the room has grown dark and Logan's hands shift from your cheeks, down to your sides and hips. You gasp, leaning into his touch. You shake your head. "No? You don't think I'm evil and morally corrupt?"

You shake your head timidly. "You protected me. Y-you did what you could—"

Logan's hands tighten around your hips. "And so did you. That bastard had his claws in you, sugar. You were so blinded by love but it wasn't love," his voice becomes hoarse as he wets his lips, "and I should have snapped ya out of it. Should have kissed you harder—should have fucked you. Should have made you mine."

You gasp, your eyes round. Your body shivers from his words and you yearn to kiss him. You still don't feel like you deserve the kiss but his lips are on yours, crushing you into him. He's desperate and dominant and you feel ill to your stomach. Your hand finds his face, hands skimming his facial hair, and you pull him in. Logan growls as he stands and he spins around, sitting on the bed, his legs spread, as he pulls you flush against him. 

You're straddling him now, kissing him back. He kisses so much better than Parker. He kisses you with intention and care. You moan against his lips, feeling his hands slide up your thighs.

"Logan," you whisper as his hand tangles in your hair. He kisses open mouth kisses on your neck, humming in pleasure. 

His hand finds your panties under your skirt and he grins. He slides his thumb over your waistband and then dips his hand in, collecting your arousal on his fingers. "Shit," he groans and kisses you again. "Such a naughty girl."

"M-more," you whine, arching into his hand. You gasp when one of his fingers dips into your folds and you realize how sensitive you are for his touch. How much you need him.

"Good girl," Logan whispers and then his voice is steady. "You're not ruined," he says as his voice sends a shiver down your spine, goosebumps erupting on your skin. "You're not. You didn't need that damn streak in your hair or your mutation to prove your worth. That's never why I loved you."

Your eyes shut as he adds a finger, smirking at the squeal you make. 

"Loved?" you ask, your voice trembling.

"Love," Logan confirms again, "I said I love you. And I'll fuck you like I love you, that's a promise, sweet girl," he says as his lips attach themselves to yours again, claiming you like he should have done years ago. 

[crows-in-the-house]

Sinful sensation

summary: the demon brothers sensing you're feeling their sin

pairing: demon bros x reader

tw: none

Lucifer

Get's pridefull of you being praud, and will ignore the fact that it's still a sin and a sign of being full of yourself or egoistic. In his eyes you're just a silly human who deserves to feel over the top sometimes. Feeling that sensation will make him smirk, wishing to see you imiediately and messaging you a ton of compliments. You rushing to tell him what happened will only fuel his pride - obviously, his sweet little human came to tell him first.

Mammon

He will come running to you if he senses you feeling greedy. He just needs to see that, maybe take a few picturies, record that, draw it if he has to, his human is simply too cute to not memorise it in some way. He would make u a photoshoot if he could, it doesn't matter you look the same as always!

If you're already out of money, he will give you his goldie. Here, you can buy yourself something nice (he's too embarrased of his blush to see what unnecessary thing you're about to buy)

Leviathan

Will find out who made you envious and will proceed to feel envious of them. What do you mean you're thinking about those people! You are already great, pretty and so cool, and you should have been thinking about him and his games! Do you not like spending time with him?? Is it becouse of those stupid idiots?? Is he not good enough?

Your jealeusy is often short lived if you're near him. He will either cheer you up or spiral into envy which will make you the one helping.

Asmodeus

Will try to help you out whatever the sytuation is. Lucifer yelling at you making you blush? Will come running to "flirt" with him so you don't have to deal with the embarassent. Feeling highly attracted to somebody? Will try to set you two up. Wanting to feel good tonight? Will join in. Which is, of course, his favorite kind of help he offers.

Satan

Usually he will help you get calm again, for example by calling and checking up on you. If you don't answer he will just wait in his room so you can always find you yourself. Sometimes tho, when he's in a bad mood and feels his favorite human also pissed he will start making imaginary scenarios in his head. He didn't eat today, got B instead of A on a test, got scammed by Mammon, and probably his human is getting threatened by some filthy lower demons! He should kill them! He has to find you and destroy them!

Beelzebub

Belphegor

He feels as if he grew a second black hole in his stomach. In those days you never feel full or satysfied which makes him worry. You try to spend 6 hours at the gym which he allows on only if you eat, drink and rest from time to time. Accompanies you on all side quests from Diavolo that you obliged to go on. He even bought you an emergency freezer just so you don't waste the access food you bought (will also help eating that ofc). He doesn't mind helping you with your gluttony, he feels responsable for it.

He knows you've overworked in student council when feels your sloth. Every time when you had enough you start to get reluctant to work or make any effort. He just takes you home and helps you get in bed. He will make you change into pyjamas, but only because he knows how uncomfortable it is to sleep in uniform. Might also keep you well feed but dont expect him to remind you of brushing your teeth, hair or such unimportant tasks.

He's happy you get to procrastinate together. But sometimes this word slips from his mouth - and it's a wake up call you better pick up.

So, the difference between gluttony and greed (from what I've read) is that the first is more of consumerism and food wasting for your pleasure and greed is for control, money and such and for a person to desperately get higher then others. I hope I get that in well enough?

[shakethediseeas]

Do you think you could do sibling alien stage head cannons?? Like if the alien stage characters had little siblings, how would they act towards them?

i love all the ideas im getting I hope I don't let you guys down, I'm so hungry for Alien Stage content....

ALIEN STAGE CHAR WITH A LITTLE KID SIBLING

im imagining this as you being a child but if you want like a little sibling in the same age range uh I can do that if u ask....

IVAN

I feel like he'd cherish his sibling a lot, especially a younger one.  

He loves caressing your head, playing with your hair, 100% 

Or hold your hand and rub circles on the back of it while looking at you with a smile. 

He is always by their side, no matter what. If you're crying, he's there. If he chooses to run away, he takes you with him.  

The way he comforts you is by pressing your head against his chest and running his fingers through your hair before placing a small kiss on it, whispering quietly to help you release all negative emotion. 

He's a bit of a hypocrite when telling you what to do. He wants to send you on the right path in life because you deserve the best in the world, so of course, he's always giving you advice, caressing your head, and telling you via story books. 

He still manages to rub off on you, if you’re a ray of sunshine you have a serious look on your face and people get scared off and you don't mind much as long as you have your brother. 

You’re unafraid of the big dog like aliens who bare their teeth at people. You brainlessly put your head in its mouth or put your forehead to its nose and close your eyes, feeling a connection to it. 

Every time he finishes a song you run up to him which makes him smile, remembering partly who he is doing this for.  

If he ever had a friend to talk to, he’d always mention you, i mean, you’re all he has. 

And in return he would tell you about the people he knew, when you asked about Till he would tell you, but his head would be in the clouds. 

HYUNA

She doesn't lie to their sibling at all. You will know the situation, and she won't hide anything from you.

You need something? She always has your back. You're spoiled rotten.

She raised you to be tough and headstrong so that you could live your best life when you grow older.

She gets so excited every time she notices you growing older that she shakes or hugs you while jumping and showing you off to everyone. only to her close friends because shes a bit secretive about you.

gets really mad when someone she doesnt like mentions you

Loves to kiss your cheek, mwah mwah mwah! Before biting it playfully.

She wants you to know that you own yourself and don't have to please anyone to be happy! If you do something, it's because you want it!

When she notices that she's rubbing off on you, she squeals and tells her buddies, telling them she's so proud before rubbing your head to mess up your hair because you can't be cooler than her.

She'll hug you whenever you feel down and tell you it's all going to be alright, that no matter what, she was always there, and she'd kick anyone's ass for ya.

she's not a fan of getting all cheesy, so she'll squish your cheeks and tell you to raise your head high.

LUKA

He wants you to be independent so he does the worst thing he could possibly do. ignore you.

He thinks it will make you strong, so you'll be capable of handling things if he ever disappears, but it just makes you wish he'll acknowledge you.

You get everything that you want except your brother's attention.

So you do everything to try to impress him, even starting to practice singing and accomplishing every task given to you.

And when you're standing next to your brother in front of your owner, when the alien leaves, he just rubs your head and walks away with a small smile.

When he notices he's rubbing off on you he either frowns because who do you think you are? or he smirks and doesn't say anything.

He never talks with you, only really short talk

Whenever you show that you feel down, tears in your eyes as you call for your brother, he gets a bit angry. You shouldn't be showing that; you won't survive in this world if you do.

He'll probbaly slap you........

He's not good at caring for you; he doesn't know how much it would affect you.

MIZI

She'll do anything for you. She wants you to smile always.

Everything she does is for you. She always thinks about you every second, wondering when she'll get to see you.

She buys you many gifts, so don't ask her how she got them; she has her ways.

She sings you to sleep, picks flowers for you, and hugs you daily.

If anyone knew her, they know you're her number one priority.

If you ever feel down, she will sing you your favorite song and gently rock you to sleep, trying not to cry, too, because she's supposed to look strong for her sibling.

When you show similar behavior to her, she smiles and gets so happy she'll tell the whole world, similar to hyuna but she brags to everyone.

TILL

um.

He tries, he really does but he's a bad influence and tries to distance himself from you so you'll be safe.

another part of him is too love sick to have anyother resoponsability

But you dont know that nd so you stick to him as much as you can, showing off anything you made or just anything you learned to impress him.

all he does is nod not even looking your way before saying "yeah great job."

He yells at you only to protect you. he wants you to not be seen with him so you don't SEE how much trouble he is, how horrible he is.

he loves you, but hes let you go for the best........

sorry if Luka and Till's werent good, if u wan ill remke.... any ideas are welcomed , maybe part 2s

its 2 am........ ill catch up with the other requests soon/..

[anadiasmount]

love struck - jude blurb.

request: yes! mix of my imagination and also @judesecret as well! 🤍

“you’re shivering, baby,” jude laughs, wrapping the towel around your body and rubbing his hands in your shoulders to warm you up. he pulls you into his chest, feeling great warmth. and beat from his embrace as you close your eyes and relish the feeling. you ignore the small nickname, still not used to the fresh relationship with jude.

“i-i-i know. i didn’t-t-t see the r-rain coming,” you say giggling, wiping your nose with the towel as you felt a water drop run along the skin. “you’re crazy, you know? walking in this storm just to show me the new minion movie trailer?” jude teases, resting his head on yours as you finally stop shivering from cold.

“despicable me four, actually,” you correct him, hiding in the crook of his neck embarrassed. “and, to see you before i travel to germany for a work trip,” you say shyly, leaning back to stare at his brown iris who shined even in the dark corner by the entrance.

“gonna miss me that much?” jude asks, kissing your nose, making you nod slowly and intimidated at the proximity of both of you. “gonna miss you too. wish you could stay here with me since our next game is here at home…” jude replies.

he could sense the nervousness, chuckling deeply before pulling away. “how about we have a movie marathon, tonight? i’m off tomorrow and i wanna spend the night here with my girl,” he says walking to the kitchen to retrieve something. you furrow your brows in confusing or maybe coming to the fact on what he said.

“you mean like spend the night over? like a sleepover?” you say walking to the kitchen, wrapping the towel tighter against you.

“only if you’re comfortable with it. i don’t want to rush you or make you feel uncomfortable,” jude says, knowing you. he knows how new the relationship is, and the last thing he wanted was to scare you away because of how shy and reserved you were. “if you start snoring i’m out though,” you joke agreeing to his suggestion, earning cheering of yes from jude.

“cmon let’s get you showered and changed.”

jude handed you some of his clothes as you took a hot and steamy shower. you let your mind wander to tonight and how it would play out. it would be the first time you spent the night at his. when you came over it was for the evening and to hangout but staying over was always out of the picture.

you could barely look him in the eye without feeling your head spin or get shy under his gaze. you’d drown yourself with his smile and big brown eyes. if he asked you to do anything, you would do it with no hesitation. he had a spell or daze that always drew you in no matter what.

jude would always be the one to initiate hand holding, hugs, even kisses. you appreciated him so much for that feeling nervous or overall giddy because you couldn’t believe he was actually yours. if he sensed you were nervous he would kiss your hands to distract you from whatever you thought.

out in public, jude gave you a small peck on the lips to reassure you he was here for you, not once leaving your side, letting you have the say when you wanted to call it a night. he kept you at your side, protecting you from anyone who wanted to be quick and jump at you. “you’re like my bodyguard,” you often joked earning a laugh from him.

you don’t know what changed, one minute you guys laughed and spoke quietly as you made a fresh cup of chocolate, eyes gleaming in happiness as you got to spend the night with him. feeling better then cuddled up quietly as you watched the movies, to now where you sat on the edge of the bed bitting your nails anxiously.

jude had finished taking a shower and brushing his teeth. he walked in and saw you sitting on his bed, shaking his head in amusement as you looked down not being able to meet his eye when he returned shirtless, abs in full show. jude caged you in on the bed, arms locking you in side to side as your eyes connected.

“what are you think about?” jude whispers making you clear your throat and smile. “how lucky i am to have a boyfriend who takes care of me,” you say hiding the anticipation and urge to kiss him first. jude smiles looking down after couple seconds of silence.

your hands cup his face, just above his jaw making jude look back up rapidly, seeing your flushed face and bottom lip bit. “baby what are-”

you cut him off with a rushed and urged kiss. closing your eyes sinking into his taste as your lips molded with his. it took jude a while to process what was going on, not believing you had finally initiated and kissed him first. he could feel your hands slowly fall onto the nape of his neck. jude’s stomach filled with butterflies, the chilling sensation running down his spine as he tasted your sweet taste.

jude kisses your further, making you let out a small whine and kiss him deeper, clashing teeth as you moved your head slightly. you felt the fire run along your veins, getting dizzy from how jude was kissing you, jude the same. he got nervous all of the sudden due to the fact you weren’t being all hidden away, letting you be in charge.

the two of you let out breaths, the room filling with the sound of your kissing and noises you made. jude got lost, lost in how you tasted, how you kissed him with urgency yet love, lost in how much he loved this new side of you. he wanted it all, more with you.

jude pulled away, out of breath and panting, lips red and plump from the kiss. you giggled resting your foreheads together processing what had just happened. you finally did it, what you wanted to do for a while. “you kissed me first,” jude said licking his lips making you squirm.

your hands traced his cheeks, feeling a sense of confidence inside you. “i know… been wanting to do it for a while,” you confess watching jude’s eyes go crazy in bewilderment and lust. he couldn’t believe it, his shy girl wasn’t so shy, and he was sure he fell even more in love with you. jude smirked kissing the inner part of your wrist before speaking up again.

“wanna show me again? i think i forgot how it felt…”

[xjoonchildx]

kanalia | jhs x reader | final chapter: because i couldn't stay away

banner by the amazing @kth1 💕

⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes. smut warnings in effect.

⚜️word count: 10.2K

⚜️author's note: happy birthday month to my forever muse, jung hoseok. i hope that i did this poor, tortured version of you some justice. and yes, it did take me years to finish this story (😭) , but i did. thank you to every single who has ever taken an interest in this story and cared enough to stick with me through long delays and rough writing spells. once again, i have to shout out the OG @hobi-gif who lent her eyes to part of this story. i appreciate you all so much and if you enjoyed it, i would very much appreciate a reblog as well as your feedback.

thank you guys so, so much 💕

previous chapter masterlist

Love doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway We laugh and we cry and we break And we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm by her side When so many have tried Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it

– “Wait for It”

Hamilton, An American Musical 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

One perfect loop is followed by another. And another. And another.

You need not look back and check your work, not anymore. Now you know simply by the pull of the thread that each stitch you place is snug and uniform. You sit in your chair by the fire and repeat the motion over and over again, staring unseeing into the pattern in your lap. 

“It’s a beautiful day, Your Grace.”

Hyeri’s voice taps at the edges of your consciousness, muffled as though she’s standing outside the chamber door instead of seated right beside you. You ignore it and push another loop through the fabric.

“Not a cloud in the sky,” she persists, gentle. “Perfect conditions for a walk, if you feel up to it. I could even accompany you, if you wish?”

There was a time, not long ago, when Hyeri’s prodding would have set your teeth on edge. But you do not have the energy to muster any such emotion. And so you give Hyeri the same answer you’d given her the day before. And the day before that one. The same hushed words, spoken in the same decisive tone.

“I’m content to stay in today, Hyeri. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Grace.”

She drops the matter with a quiet sigh.

It’s unlike her. The Hyeri you know would fret and fuss for as long as it took for you to relent; until you had no choice but to quit your chamber simply to enjoy a moment’s peace. The Hyeri you know would be shooing you away from the fire, prattling on about how one errant thread could catch and send your entire dress up in flames. 

But the Hyeri seated beside you does none of those things.

So you sink deeper into the plush chair perched in front of the hearth and watch the flames dance. The embers at the base of the fire glow deep red, putting off a heat blistering enough to scorch your bare feet. 

But you cannot feel it. You cannot feel anything.

You’ve surrendered to the weariness now; let it consume you. Allowed it to fuse itself to the very marrow of your bones. For days you’ve done little beyond sleep and spend your few waking hours seated by the fire, needle in hand. 

Twice you’ve left your chamber and neither time by choice, but rather because the King had insisted on your presence at dinner. To what end you still cannot be sure seeing as you’d taken both meals in stilted, awkward silence. Apparently His Grace is far less bold without a bit of ale in him.

“The hunting party leaves in three days' time,” Hyeri says. “There’s been quite a fuss in the kitchens over it. They’re taking enough supplies to travel for months, by the looks of it.”

You make a non-committal sound under your breath. Hyeri forges on, undeterred.

“There will be a send-off in the courtyard, of course. Will you – “ she pauses to choose her words carefully. “ – Well, I assume that you’ll want to see the King off.”

You do not want to see the King off. Were it not for his pigheaded adamance that you keep up appearances for the sake of this sham marriage, you’d be content to never see him again. But you’ll not tell Hyeri that. Not when she’s made it clear where her loyalties lie and not when she still holds on to the delusion that one day you’ll decide to embrace your role as the placeholder by the King’s side.

So you say nothing at all. The fire pops as one of the logs crumbles in the hearth.

Hyeri clears her throat. “Your Grace, I only want what’s best for you. Surely you know that by now? And I don’t want people casting aspersions, which they most certainly will do if you’re not there to see the King off. The staff is already asking questions about why you’ve not been seen in days.”

“Has he asked for me?”

Hyeri blinks. “The King?”

“Yes, Hyeri,” you say slowly. “The King. Has His Grace requested my presence at this send-off ceremony?”

The color seems to drain from her soft face as she admits, “No, Your Grace. He hasn’t.”

“Then I see no point in worrying yourself over the matter.”

You return your attention to your needlework and place another yellow thread in the center of your Mugunghwa flower’s pistil. The flames crackle in perfect, undisturbed silence. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“It’s cold out there today,” Hyeri says. “But if you bundle up tight, it’s quite pleasant in the sunshine.”

“Thank you, Hyeri,” you reply evenly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. You have no intention of leaving this chamber today and much to your relief, the King did not require your presence at his evening meal the night prior. Hyeri had ordered your dinner sent up and then proceeded to dine with you herself. An insidious voice inside your mind whispers she’s afraid to leave you alone.

You ignore it.

Instead you try to focus on your Mugunghwa flower. You study it, blinking until the riot of colors before you has clear, defined boundaries – fiery crimson at the center which slowly bleeds into a subdued pink which in turn dissipates into a milky white. You pull fresh white thread through your needle and set to work on the flower’s edges.

“Your needlework is much improved, Your Grace,” Hyeri notes. “You’ll be finished with that pattern by the end of the day, as I see it.”

You thumb over the fabric and consider her assessment. She’s right, you’ll be done with this pattern in a matter of hours. And the only thing that awaits on the other side is another pattern. And another. On and on and on. 

“Perhaps when you’re done, you’ll consider mending this for me,” Hyeri says, gesturing towards her lap. “My eyesight is not what it used to be. I’m terrified of ruining the old man’s beautiful design.”

You set your embroidery down and turn to look at Hyeri, gaze falling to the opulent plum fabric in her hands. Slowly, the details sharpen into focus. The rich velvet trim. The gold threads glinting back at you in the firelight. The room begins to tilt.

“A footman found it in the woods last night,” Hyeri explains, her cadence slow and deliberate. “By the stables.”

You are keenly aware of the way she watches you in the weighty seconds that follow, one gray eyebrow lifted as she awaits a response. You do your best to appear calm despite the panic clawing its way up your throat.

You’d lost that shawl in your mad dash back to the castle. You’d been tearing through the dark, paying little heed to the branches that tugged at your dress and occasionally scraped at your hands and face. One of them had caught the shawl, but you’d been so desperate to reach the refuge of your chamber that you’d hardly noticed when it was wrenched away. You’d had, after all, your humiliation to keep you warm.

And you’d earned it, hadn’t you? With your drunkenness. With your recklessness. You’d let every one of your baser emotions take control. You’d risked every advantage of your carefully curated life just to throw yourself like a wanton at the feet of one of your husband’s closest confidantes. Like a fool. 

When Lord Jung turned on his heels that night and abandoned you in the woods, he’d done far more than just rebuff your clumsy advances. 

He’d finished you. 

“Your Grace?” Hyeri’s curiosity is evident. “Are you alright?”

Hardly. Your mouth waters as your stomach threatens to cast up what little you’ve eaten today. One glimpse of that garment had been enough to bring a torrent of memories rushing back; vivid, awful memories that you’ve worked hard to banish to the deepest recesses of your mind. You grip the arm of your chair hard enough to make your knuckles go white. 

“Your Grace?”

You don’t answer until you’re sure that you won’t retch the very moment you open your mouth. Hyeri studies you in the interminable silence, lips parted in an expression of concern. Your tongue is thick when you finally collect yourself enough to speak.

“Please do thank the footman for me, Hyeri. And I think it best to leave the more intricate needlework to you.”

Hyeri stares as you reach for your needle and thread with trembling hands, but you don’t dare look her way. You try to place a loop at the edge of your flower but the Mugunghwa’s colors have gone blurry again and you’re forced to back the needle out and start over.

Perhaps there was a time when the Mugunghwa was as vivid as a rose. With petals of rich orange-red, opaque from pistil to tip. But perhaps it was asked to weather too many storms. Too many droughts. Too many winters. 

Perhaps the Mugunghwa looks the way it does today not because of how it was made, but rather what it’s had to endure. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The first snow of the season arrives early.

You stand at your window and watch it fall, noting how quickly the fields turn from green to white. You press your fingertips to the windowpane and the cold seeps through it, chilling you instantly.

In the courtyard below, the horses are draped in heavy blankets. Stablehands scurry around them; dusting snow off their muzzles and checking their shoes. Footmen work in teams, sharing the weight of the heavy trunks they load on to waiting carts. 

“I’ll wear the blue walking dress today, Hyeri. The one with the white flowers on the bodice.”

“Your Grace?” Hyeri is on her feet at once to join you at the window. “You’ll see the king off, then?”

“I’ll need the matching cape too,” you direct, brushing her question aside as you watch the newly-packed trunks take on a layer of white snow. “If the conditions are as awful as they look.”

“Yes of course,” Hyeri breathes, hurriedly whirling about the chamber behind you as she gathers your things. In a matter of minutes she has you dressed and seated, fingers twisting your hair into a plait at the base of your neck. She loops the plait and pins it into an elegant bun, fingers smoothing the hairs into place before her hands come to rest on your shoulders. She squeezes them gently.

“I’ll not ask you why you’ve changed your mind, Your Grace,” she says softly. “But I’m so glad for it. It’s important that people see you. For them, of course, but for you most of all. And besides, you look so lovely.” 

You don’t feel lovely. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all. And if Hyeri had pressed you as to why you’ve changed your mind, she’d not be satisfied with your answer. You’ve changed your mind because you cannot bear to cause more conflict with the King. Because you have no desire to create a scandal that you’ll somehow have to fix. You’ve changed your mind because you have no fight in you left. This is the path of least resistance.

You rise from your seat and Hyeri’s hands fall away. She clutches them to her chest, rheumy eyes soft with sadness as she watches you take your place at the window once again. Outside the snow falls harder, and you watch the footmen leave deep divots in it with their boots.

“Tell me when it’s time,” you say quietly.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You can scarcely recognize anyone in the throng of well-wishers gathered outside the castle.

They’re all bundled tight in winter coats and pelts; some wear hats and scarves. The snow doesn’t help either, and from the moment you enter the courtyard you’re grateful for your cape. Not only for the warmth of its thick lining, but for its hood, too. It affords you a bit of privacy in this otherwise very public affair.

You weave your way through the crowd and do your best not to make eye contact with anyone. Surely Boram is among those gathered with sweet Yeona in tow, here to see Lord Min off on his adventure. But you cannot bring yourself to seek her out – not when she’s already called on you twice without so much as an explanation for your disappearance. At any rate, you don’t think you could bear to look at her right now. To see the worry and concern you know you’ll find written all over her face. 

So you keep your hood pulled tight and your eyes down as you set off in search of the King. And you have no trouble finding him despite your reticence to make your presence known. It’s not just that he stands a head taller than most. It’s in his stature, in his stance – in that self-assured air that seems to come naturally to those born with power. He catches sight of you as he’s speaking to a footman and pauses, gaze locking on yours.

Your legs feel heavy. Your boots sink into the snow as you approach, each step more tiring than the last. When you are finally standing before the King you bow, dipping your head as you peer at him from beneath your hood.

“Your Grace,” he murmurs, lips twitching into a cautious half-smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come down to say goodbye.”

“And yet I have,” you respond evenly. A snowflake lands on one of his long eyelashes and you resist the urge to reach out and sweep it away. “So I do very much hope that you are pleased.”

“I am pleased.”

The King reaches for your gloved hand. He waits a heartbeat before bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your leather-clad fingers. Beneath your hood, your cheeks burn. You withdraw your hand quickly and let it fall to your side. 

“Well. Then. I wish you a comfortable journey,” you say. “As well as a safe return.”

The two of you stand there for an awkward moment, the King’s expression expectant as though he’s waiting for you to say more. But you have no more to say. The words you’ve already offered him will do. They’re as empty as the vows you’d exchanged little more than a year ago.

“We ought to head out, Your Grace. We’re losing precious daylight and this weather will slow us as it is.”

The voice comes from somewhere in your periphery, but you need not see the man to know exactly who it is. Suddenly each breath you draw is painful, the frigid air pricking your lungs like a thousand tiny needles. You will yourself not to turn towards it, not to react in any way. 

“You’re right.” The King acknowledges Lord Jung with a brusque nod. “Have the stablehands check over the horses one more time.”

You won’t look at him. You can’t look at him. Not when the sound of his voice reverberates through every wounded place inside of you. Not when you can close your eyes and still feel the hot trickle of embarrassment that slid down your spine that night in the woods. But then he leaves you with no other choice.

“Your Grace.” 

The low timbre of Lord Jung’s greeting makes the fine hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. You turn to him, slowly, and his dark eyes briefly connect with yours before he bends into a shallow bow. Your knees nearly give way when you return the gesture, along with a subdued, “My Lord.”

What must this man think of you now? What has he told the King? The nausea you’ve managed to stave off for days returns at once. 

You startle when a gloved hand wraps around your forearm and the King beckons you to face him. You flick your eyes up to meet his and find that they – along with his countenance – have darkened. By now Lord Jung is yards away, tending to his horse as the hunting party readies to embark. Your lungs ache with each deep pull of cold air.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Not at all,” you insist, contriving a weak laugh. “I’m not accustomed to this kind of cold, is all. I’ll need to go back inside to get warm.”

The King’s brows furrow as he studies you. But you maintain your mild expression until his face relaxes and the disquiet subsides. He leans in to place a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

“Hyeri assures me you’ll be well taken care of in my absence.”

You lift the corners of your mouth in a gesture that you hope will pass for a smile.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Be well.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hyeri does not protest when you ask to undress upon your return to the chamber. Nor does she fuss when you climb into bed with the morning sun still high in the sky. She simply presses a soft kiss to your hair, draws the curtains tight and leaves you with a whispered rest well. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Your chamber is dark when you wake but for the soft glow of a fire. 

As you come to, so does an ache in your temples, a quiet thud that pulses in time with your heartbeat. Your muscles protest as you roll onto your side to find Hyeri seated at the hearth. 

She’s yet to realize that you’ve roused and so you lie there for a while, studying her. She has a strange, far-away look in her eyes as she stares into the flames, her grip tight on a book in her lap. After a few minutes she opens the book and begins to thumb through it and you watch, curious, as she pulls a worn piece of vellum from between its pages.

She unfolds the missive and reads over it, face crumpling as she fights back a sob.

“Hyeri?”

The older woman nearly jumps out of her skin when you call out to her.  She hastily folds the vellum and slips it back into her book, smoothing down her dress as she stands at attention. “Your Grace,” she says, voice huskier than usual, “I hadn’t realized you were awake.”

“It’s alright,” you say absently, voice rough with sleep. You steal a look at the book left lying in Hyeri’s chair as she hurries over to bring you some water. Her countenance is that of someone who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. You stare at the glass she offers you, watching the water slosh back and forth. 

Is she trembling?

“You ought to eat something,” she admonishes gently, waving a hand towards the food waiting on the table nearby. “You slept through the evening meal. I had my mind made up to wake you if you’d gone much longer, but thankfully I didn’t have to. So come,” she beckons, “Eat something. It will do you some good.”

Your stomach twinges at the mention of food. It’s been in upheaval for days now, and as such it’s been far too long since you had a proper meal. But whatever awaits in the dishes nearby smells enticing enough, so you allow Hyeri to help you out of bed. Your muscles are stiff with disuse and you grimace as you make your way to the table. Your eagle-eyed handmaid takes note.

“A long, hot bath will do you some good, too,” Hyeri remarks as you spoon lukewarm bulgogi onto your plate. You eat slowly as she busies herself with lighting the torches and stripping the linens from your bed. “I’ll have the maids bring up the water after you’ve had a chance to eat.”

You’ve only managed a few bites of the bulgogi before there’s an army of maids filing into the chamber, flitting about the room like a swarm of bees. You watch the entire affair in a daze as the maids make quick work of the tasks set before them: tidying and sweeping the chamber, draping your bed in fresh linens, filling the tub with steaming hot water. And when all the commotion is finally done, Hyeri dismisses them with strict orders not to return unless they are sent for. 

You are grateful at once for the silence that immediately falls over the chamber. Even Hyeri leaves you for a while, disappearing into the antechamber to prepare your toilette. But when you glance over at her chair, Hyeri’s book is gone. Along with whatever was written on the vellum inside.

“Come now, Your Grace,” Hyeri says, at last. “I’m ready for you.” 

She leads you into the bathing chamber, where the air is humid and sweet. Then she helps you out of your rumpled nightgown and holds out her hand. You accept it, leaning into her as you step over the tub’s steep rim. Slowly you ease yourself down, sucking in a breath as the heat blazes a path up your feet to your legs and thighs. The water is hot almost to the point of pain but you withstand it, sinking until it laps at your shoulders.

“I used rose oil tonight,” Hyeri says, kneeling behind you and cupping your head in her hands. “I thought you could do with a bit of pampering.” 

The delicate fragrance envelopes you, carried on the curls of steam that rise just above the water. You breathe in the soft, floral scent and close your eyes; try to clear your mind. Hyeri presses her thumbs to your temples and starts making firm, soothing circles. 

“I remember the very first moment I saw you,” Hyeri muses softly. “I’d been so impressed by your poise.” Her hands move to the column of your neck and she kneads at the tight muscles there, pulling the tension from them with each pass. “You were little more than a girl then, but I could still see that you were lovely, inside and out.”

Were you? You’re not sure that you would even recognize the girl that stepped out of that carriage so long ago. You’d been so idealistic – so certain of the comfortable life that you would find here. Of the affluence and status and yes, perhaps, even love that you’d enjoy once you’d ascended to the throne. But that girl had been a nitwit. The woman you are now will never entertain such foolish notions again.

“I know that so much of this has not been easy for you,” Hyeri continues, setting to work on your shoulders. “I know that there have been days when you’ve struggled to put one foot in front of the other. But you have. And that means something.”

It does mean something. It means that your mother’s great work is finally complete. She’d spent her entire life molding you into the polished, empty creature you are today. If only she could see you now; see how biddable and pathetic you’ve become. It would fill her to overflowing with joy.

“Anyhow, when you’ve lived as long as I have you realize that nothing is forever,” Hyeri says thoughtfully. “Same as what you’re going through right now, Your Grace. It won’t be forever.”

Nonsense. Hyeri cannot change the King’s heart. She cannot save you from a lifetime of awkward exchanges and forced smiles simply because she believes things can change. And she cannot will a child into your womb simply by decreeing that it should be so. The swell of emotion that surges inside you is more powerful than anything you’ve felt in days. And it’s anger. 

“Hyeri, stop,” you order tersely. “No more.”

Her face falls at that, features going slack with dismay. But she heeds you, holding back whatever she’d meant to say next. Then she reaches for the soap and begins to wash your hair in silence. You chase the beads of oil that float along the surface of the water with a fingertip, cheeks hot with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to be ugly to Hyeri. 

But then you’ve done many things of late that you hadn’t meant to.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“It’s alright, Your Grace. I know you meant no harm by it.” Hyeri dries her hands off and then rises to her feet, looking down at you with a kindness you do not deserve. “I’ll leave you to soak for a bit. You can have a few minutes of peace before I return.”

You’ve been unfair to her, haven’t you? The realization cuts you deep as you watch her retreat from the antechamber. She’s served you in so many ways since your arrival here: as caretaker and as advisor and as confidante. And how have you thanked her? By being cold and distant. By unleashing all the frustration and resentment you feel towards the King on her. And what of the tears you’d seen her hold back while she’d been sitting by the fire? Have you been so mired in your own anguish that you’ve neglected to see hers? 

The water has begun to cool and your skin has begun to pebble by the time Hyeri returns.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she says upon her return, helping you out of the water. “The time got away from me. You must be freezing.”

“Only a little,” you lie, teeth chattering. Hyeri sets to drying you, throwing the damp linens on the floor to catch the rivulets of water that fall from your hair. Her dark eyes dart from your shoulders to your neck to your ears, but they do not meet yours. 

“Is something wrong, Hyeri?”

“No, no. Not at all,” she answers quickly, “Just a bit tired.” Her reassurance rings hollow because she keeps her eyes trained on the floor as she bends to reach for the rose oil. When she straightens, you catch her hand with yours, stilling her. 

“What were you reading tonight?”

Hyeri’s mouth opens in surprise and then quickly closes.

“I saw you sitting by the fire,” you admit. “You were reading something that looked to upset you.”

“And here I thought you were sleeping,” Hyeri grumbles, taking her hand back. She pours the oil into one palm and then warms it before pressing it to your neck, letting a long moment pass before she speaks. 

“It didn’t upset me,” she explains. “Not in a sad way. Those were happy tears, I suppose.” She pours oil into your hands and begins to gently massage it into your fingers. “It was a letter from my Sanghun, back when he’d been courting me so many years ago. You might find this hard to believe, but I wasn’t always the old woman you see now. I had more than my fair share of suitors.”

It’s not hard to believe. Time has been kind to Hyeri. Her features, though soft with age, are still striking. She must have been quite fetching as a young woman. 

“What made you choose Sanghun?” you ask.

“I don’t know that I had a choice in the matter at all,” she laughs as she helps you slip into a nightgown. “The moment I saw Sanghun, no other man existed for me. It was him or no one.” Her eyes go soft with a faraway look as she recounts the memory. “The other girls thought him too practical, too serious. But I saw a side of him that no one else saw. A part of him that was just for me.”

“You must miss him,” you say gently.

“Every day,” Hyeri admits. “Ten years he’s been gone and I think of him every day. Those letters remind me of what it’s like to be young and so in love that you’ll not see rhyme or reason. But –” she trails off and waves a hand as if fending off fresh tears. “Never mind that. Come sit.”

It’s unclear which of you she’s sparing from the memory. But as Hyeri begins working her comb through the lengths of your hair, you’re struck by how shortsighted you’ve been. There is suffering in never having the chance to love and be loved, certainly. But there is a different kind of suffering that comes with having that kind of love and then losing it. The thought humbles you.

Hyeri comes to stand behind you and begins working your wet hair into a loose plait.

“I’m sorry, Hyeri,” you say softly, gaze dropping to your hands. “I’m sorry that I haven’t thought to ask you about Sanghun. I haven’t been myself and I’ve just – “

Hyeri silences you with a soft hush. She secures your braid with a piece of linen and then drops to her knees to look her in the eye. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says softly, stroking a hand down the side of your face. “Nor do you owe anyone an explanation for feeling the things you feel.”

Her warmth thaws the frozen places inside you. It causes tears to spring to your eyes. And when she takes your hand in hers, you squeeze it gently — hoping that the gesture can convey the feelings you can’t put into words.

“Now put all of that behind you,” she says, smiling through her own unshed tears. “And come sit with me for a while.”

Hyeri leads the way into the chamber and you follow, only to stop short when the hearth comes into view.

When your gaze falls on the silhouetted figure near the fire, you nearly scream. You try to scream. But fear seizes your body, inch by inch – rooting your feet to the floor and closing around your throat like a shackle. You have no choice but stand there, staring in horrified silence as the figure begins to emerge from the shadows. In the span of one frantic heartbeat, the figure has a shape. In the next, it has a face. 

And in the next, it has a name.

“H-Hyeri?” you stammer, swaying on your feet as your legs threaten to give way. Your handmaid doesn’t answer and so you call out again, voice quivering. “Hyeri?”

You cannot take your eyes off the man standing before you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and so you stare as the firelight flickers over his stark, beautiful features. Shadows dance across his clenched jaw and knit brow. And his eyes – those dark eyes you know so well are fathomless, inscrutable – smoldering coal set in unblemished, unforgiving stone.

“Hyeri!“ you call out to her again, desperate – reluctantly tearing your gaze from the man to look for her. And when your eyes finally land on Hyeri, you find your handmaid standing near the chamber door, hands clasped together tightly. Streaks of color running up the thin skin of her neck and into her soft cheeks.

But she’s not surprised, is she? Not flummoxed in any way by finding Lord Jung lying in wait inside your private rooms. The realization comes over you slowly, wholly, until a strangle tingle runs from your scalp to the tips of your fingers. She’s arranged this, hasn’t she? 

“W-What is this?” The words leave you as more air than sound, but they ring out clear enough in the silence of your chamber. Lord Jung and Hyeri exchange a long look, but neither utters a sound.

“Someone speak!” you cry, wincing at the hysteria in your voice. 

Hyeri finally clears her throat, her face now fully aflame. “I believe the two of you – “ she pauses, swallowing hard. “Well, I believe the two of you have some things you need to discuss.”

Discuss? You and Lord Jung? Suddenly the panic you feel metastasizes, growing into something much darker. Has he come to admonish you, then? To punish you for your disloyalty? Has he come to lay bare every humiliating detail of that horrible night at the stables for Hyeri to hear? 

“No,” you whisper. You do your best to appear composed, despite the way your knees tremble. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Hyeri. I have nothing to discuss with Lord Jung.”

“Yes, you do.” The man in question speaks for the first time, his voice little more than a low rasp. “And we will.”

“No,” you repeat your refusal, shaking your head as though the movement will help sort your jumbled thoughts. “No. You have no right to turn up here and say what I will and will not do. And where did you come from? I saw you leave. I saw you mount your horse and ride off with – “

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought, flushing fiercely at the unspoken mention of the King. Your tedious, disinterested husband would be anything but if he had any inkling of this clandestine encounter.

“I was called back to the castle,” Lord Jung explains evenly. “A palace rider came bearing a missive bidding that I return at once to address an issue at the stables. I was but an hour’s ride away at the time.” Once again, he looks to Hyeri and they exchange another one of those maddening looks.

“But there was no issue at the stables,” you deduce quietly, the pieces falling into place, one by one. “Was there, Hyeri?” Your handmaid seems to shrink beneath the weight of the accusation in your eyes. 

“No, Your Grace,” she confesses weakly, “There was not.”

Oh, but your head is truly spinning now – each new revelation more disorienting than the last. How long have these two been conspiring together? What does Hyeri know about what’s transpired between you and Lord Jung? What does he know about the many private things you’ve shared with Hyeri? Both thoughts cause the bile in your stomach to rise.

“You can leave us now, Hyeri,” Lord Jung says. “Thank you.”  

Leave you? Has the man lost all good sense? You open your mouth to protest, but when met with the intensity in his glittering dark eyes, words fail you. You just stand there, mouth agape, rendered mute and immobile with shock. You look over at Hyeri, who has fixed her pleading eyes to your wide ones, her expression urging you to comply. And though you cannot make sense of a single thing that you’ve witnessed tonight, you do.

“Very well, My Lord,” she says quietly. “Rest well, Your Grace. The staff rouses at dawn.”

And with that Hyeri takes her leave, the chamber door closing behind her with a heavy thud that echoes the one in your chest.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Once you are alone with Lord Jung, you realize how truly vulnerable you are.

With little more than a thin nightgown to cover you, he can see far more of you than would ever be considered proper. All it would take was one shout from the man to bring the guards running, to compromise you both to the point of expulsion. Perhaps worse.

But the situation is far weightier than that. 

You’ve been vulnerable to this man from nearly the first moment you saw him. You’d been weak to his attention and charms. You’d allowed him to see you in ways that no one else has: not Chaehee, not Hyeri and certainly not the King. And the only time in your life that you’d thrown caution to the wind – and acted with abandon, not restraint – he’d mortified you. The memory of that night is a wound that’s just barely begun to heal, and now here Lord Jung stands, poised to pour salt on it. 

You’ll not allow him to devastate you again. 

“Go on then,” you say, lifting your chin and speaking with feigned bravado. “You’ve gone to great lengths to speak to me, so speak. I assume you’ll enlighten me as to which matter is so pressing that you felt the need to steal into my chamber and risk ruin for us both.”

“I know what I’m risking,” he growls. Then he stops to collect himself, exhaling deeply as he shoves a hand through his hair. “I know what we both stand to lose. But I could not come to you any other way.”

“Why have you come to me at all?” you demand. “You made your feelings quite clear the night of the festival, did you not?” You can no longer contain your bitterness and it drips from your every word. “You should go back to your sovereign, My Lord. Back to your King.”

Lord Jung looks stricken when you use his own words against him. There is a despair in his dark eyes that might have pained you once, but not now. Not anymore.

“You have every right to be angry with me, Your Grace,” he acknowledges. “And if you bid me to leave, then I will do so. But not without telling you the truth. You deserve to hear the truth.”

“Everything here is a lie. Perhaps you, most of all.”

He looks at you for a long moment before turning towards the hearth to gaze into the fire. Orange-red light illuminates his profile, sweeping across his smooth brow, over the elegant slope of his nose and down to his strong jaw. He is still the most beautiful – and most terrible man you’ve ever known.

“The King said he would give her up,” he says woodenly, staring into the flames. “When your marriage was announced, he swore it. And I believed him.”

Every muscle in your body pulls tight.

“I knew that he loved her. We all did. But he vowed that he would respect his father’s wishes and I’ve never known him to be a duplicitous man. I’ve never known him to say one thing and do another. And when I realized that he’d been deceiving you, deceiving us all, I – “ he stops and shakes his head at the memory. “ – I wasn’t thinking clearly. I confronted him at once and demanded that he explain himself.”

The argument in the courtyard. The memories come back to you in an instant. The way they’d both looked so irate, the way their voices would rise and then fall. Lord Jung turning his back on the King and stalking away into the dark. 

The tightness in your chest is unbearable now, viselike. 

“I was so damned angry,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. “Never once in my life have I imagined putting my hands on the King, but in that moment – I don’t know. I don’t know what I might have done had I not walked away. But I confronted him because I had to know why.”

He rips his gaze from the fire and turns to you, eyes flashing.

“And do you know what he told me? Do you know what he said when I asked him why he would insult you by keeping a lover? He told me that he couldn’t stay away. That he’d tried to do the honorable thing but he couldn’t stay away.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The tremor in your voice belies your pathetic attempt at composure. “If you mean to cause me pain, it’s too late. I’ve known about the King’s lover since the early days of this marriage, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I’ve accepted that I’ll never amount to more than a trinket he dusts off to show to his people.”

Lord Jung takes a step towards you, his beautiful face hard in the firelight. There’s a maelstrom behind his eyes, a polite violence that sets you to shiver.

“I’m telling you this because I need you to understand,” he says. “I want to hate him. I have tried to hate him. But I cannot. I have no position of honor to stand on. No rightful claim to virtue. I have no right to condemn the King for his sins when I have so many of my own to account for.”

“I – I don’t understand,” you say weakly.

“I have no right – “ his voice breaks, thick with emotion, “-- I have no right to denounce the King for coveting another woman.” He drags a hand down his face, distraught. “Not when I have spent every single day since you stepped out of that carriage coveting you.”

You stop breathing entirely.

“So no,” he continues, voice graveled. “I cannot bring myself to hate the King. And you were right to think me a liar. I’ve pretended that my nearness to you was benign, nothing more than an act of service. I’ve tried to make myself look honorable to you, when I have been anything but. I’ve been a liar since the moment I met you.”

You are trembling now, head to toe. Rendered speechless by Lord Jung’s confession. Slowly, the maelstrom in his eyes starts to recede. He looks as vulnerable now as you feel. 

“You deserved to know the truth,” he says quietly. “If from no one else, than from me.” 

There is a heavy silence in the seconds it takes you to find your voice.

“My Lord, I – “

“Don’t call me that,” he pleads. “Please. Not now. Not when I’ve come to you like this.”

“Very well, Hoseok. But you sent me away. In the woods that night, I’d asked you to – “ you stop, not wanting to say the words aloud. “What’s changed? Why are you telling me this now?”

“I have tried to leave you alone.” His voice is ragged now, anguished. “I thought if I could just put some distance between us – if I rose earlier and worked harder and retired later – that I could exhaust this need out of me. But I can’t.” Torment is etched into every line of his beautiful face. It makes you want to reach out and touch him but you resist, uncertainty keeping your hands pinned to your sides.

“I cannot war with myself any longer,” he says hoarsely. “I cannot continue to lie to you or myself. And if he is not willing to give you the things you desire, then I will.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, your neck. It gathers in your belly, too.

“So if you’re asking me why now?” he says, taking another step towards you, closing what little distance remains. “It’s because I couldn’t stay away.”

He touches you then, takes your face into one warm hand and strokes his fingers down your temple, smooths the pad of his thumb over your lips. The featherlight touch raises goosebumps all over your skin. It’s more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced with the King. 

“Do you still want me to kiss you?” he murmurs. 

“No,” you breathe. “I want so much more than that.”

He looks at you with such heat that the warmth in your belly goes molten. Then he presses his mouth to yours and slowly coaxes it open with gentle strokes of his tongue. He tastes of whiskey and smells of fine, heady soap and he does not relent until you are panting. Moisture gathers at the juncture of your thighs, beneath your thin nightgown.

But suddenly you are apprehensive. You’ve no idea how to kiss a man properly, much less satisfy him as a lover. And you’re not sure that you could ever live down the shame of disappointing him. When he finally pulls away to look down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, you have no choice but to confess.

“There’s something you should know, Hoseok,” you say, the sound of his given name still foreign in your mouth. “It’s just that – well, I am by no means a maiden but in some respects, I might as well be. I know almost nothing about how to please you.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, and for one terrifying moment you fear it’s for you.

“That is through no fault of your own,” he says darkly. “And if he’s been too much of a fool to see to your needs, then so be it.” He dips his head to press a kiss to your ear, then whispers, “Your pleasure will be mine and mine alone.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hoseok spends an inordinate amount of time tending to the fire. 

You sit on the edge of your bed and watch him, feverish with anticipation as he moves the weakest logs and adds fresh ones. Once he’s satisfied, once the chamber is glowing with fresh flames and warmth, he cleans his hands and comes to you.

Your heart rattles harder with each step he takes towards your bed. 

When he’s finally standing at the foot of your bed, he takes off his belt. And then reaches behind his head to pull his tunic away. The sight of his bare chest is enough to make your mouth go dry. His body is lithe and sleek and strong, his muscles rippling as he puts his hands down on either side of you and lowers his mouth to yours for a kiss.

“Tonight is about you, pretty bird,” he murmurs, trailing more kisses across your cheek, down your neck. “So I want you to tell me everything you want.”

“I want to see you.” The words leave you in a rush an account of the way his mouth moves from the juncture of your neck and to the hollow of your collarbone. “All of you.”

Hoseok wastes no time in straightening to his full height to remove his breeches, and then his smallclothes. And try as you might not to stare, it cannot be helped. You’ve never been able to study a man like this. Not even the King.

“Can I touch you?” 

“Please,” he groans.

And then you are cautiously reaching for him, wrapping a hand around the length of him, marveling at the way he pulses in your palm. You run your fingertips down the skin of his shaft, awestruck by how silky and warm he is. But when your fingers reach the blunt head of him, he flinches.

“I don’t – I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Did I hurt you?

“No, no. You didn’t hurt me,” he assures you, his voice sounding a bit strangled. “I’m just sensitive there, is all.”

“Will you show me, then?” you ask, curiosity far stronger than any self-consciousness you might feel. “Show me how to touch you.”

“Of course.”

He sits down on the bed beside you, taking hold of your hand. And then you watch with a heady mix of confusion and excitement as he takes your fingers into his mouth one, by one. He finishes the unfamiliar preparation by licking a long stripe up the palm of your hand. The stroke of his tongue sends a bolt of desire racing through you.

“It’s easier like this,” he explains, guiding your hand back to his length. You take hold of him again and this time he wraps his hand around yours. He moves your hand for you, up and down the length of him, until you can feel him growing hotter and harder in your hand. You’re fascinated by it all – by how firmly he wants to be touched, by how labored his breathing becomes, by the way the muscle and sinew in his legs seem to twitch at your command.

He leans over to capture your mouth as he begins to buck into your hand in earnest. And after a while his own hand falls away, leaving you to take control of his pleasure. And what an intoxicating power he’s given you – taut muscles in his abdomen flexing with each of his strained breaths.

“That feels so good, pretty bird,” he groans, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. “Just right. Your hand feels so good around me like this.” 

The wetness you’d felt between your thighs when he’d kissed you the first time returns, and each sound of pleasure he rewards you with makes you wetter and warmer. He is rock hard in your hand now, the dusky head of his manhood shiny with moisture. You watch a bead of it appear at the tip and you slide your fingertips over it, transfixed by how smooth it feels. Beside you, Hoseok shudders.

“I think that’s enough for now,” he says, breathless. “I’ll be of no use to you if you keep that up for much longer.”

You have half a mind to protest, but then his hands are sliding over the thin material of your nightgown, cupping your breasts through the gauzy fabric. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and teases it until it’s standing at attention. You sigh.

“Can I take this off?” he whispers, pulling at the nightgown. 

You hesitate. Not even the King has seen you nude. Not once has he ever asked you to remove your nightgown and so for a long time, that is what you’d assumed he preferred. That is, until you’d caught him in bed with his lover. 

“Look at me,” Hoseok says, sensing your anxiety. He tips your chin up until your gaze meets his own. “I’ll not ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to use my mouth and hands on you. On all of you.”

You inhale deeply, flustered by the way he speaks so plainly about his desires. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? What you’ve longed for all this time. And that’s what he’s promised you, isn’t it? Pleasure. Pleasure that will be his and his alone. 

You draw your nightgown up to your thighs and then raise up to pull it even higher. When you’ve finally discarded it, when there is nothing left between you and Hoseok you flush, looking away.

“You have nothing to hide,” he rasps. “You’re beautiful. Believe me, pretty bird – you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Emboldened by the praise, you draw nearer to him and trace the outline of his heart-shaped mouth with one finger. And then it is your lips that find his; your tongue that moves past the seam of his lips and your teeth that find the shell of his ear. You thread your fingers in his hair, and he groans, gathering you close.

“You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve dreamed of you like this,” he says, gently laying you back on the bed. “You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve taken myself in hand to these fantasies.”

Oh, but you can imagine, can’t you? The few times you’d dared to try and seek your own pleasure, it had been him in your mind’s eye as your hand was between your legs. It had always been him. 

Hoseok’s mouth leaves yours and when it  finds the tip of one aching breast, you gasp.

“Do you like that?” he goads, laving your nipple with his tongue, taking it between his teeth. The pang of pleasure he incites in you is so sharp, you cry out. “Your body is so responsive,” he murmurs. “So damned responsive.”

There is only so much of that particular torture you can take, and so when his mouth finally leaves your breasts you exhale a sigh of relief. But then his mouth is on your sternum, and then your stomach, and then –

You freeze.

“I want to kiss you here,” Hoseok explains, cupping your mound with one large hand. “I promised you pleasure and this is the surest way to it. Will you let me?”

He looks up at you from the edge of the bed, his dark hair wild and his dark eyes glossy with desire, his mouth hovering over your most secret place. Your pulse skitters, heart pounding erratically at the thought of him kissing you there.

“Is it – is it proper?” you ask, chiding yourself at once for asking such a stupid question. Your face flames when Hoseok raises a brow. “I don’t know that I’ve ever thought to consider the … propriety of such an act,” he says slowly. “But I know that you’ll enjoy it if you allow me to show you. And if you don’t enjoy it, I’ll stop.”

In the seconds that follow, you think about the way he’d let you take him in hand. How he’d showed you how to bring him pleasure, without reserve. How powerful you’d felt when he’d been shuddering under your touch. He’d trusted you, hadn’t he? Just as you now must trust him.

“Alright,” you whisper, nodding your assent. “I trust you.”

He grins at you then, wickedly, before lowering his mouth to your mons. And then he is kissing you there, softly, each brush of his lips moving lower and lower still. Until you feel the heat of his breath at your entrance. You tense.

“Relax for me,” he instructs, licking a long, wet stripe up the length of you. The touch sends a frisson of sensation shooting through your limbs. “Close your eyes and try to think of nothing but this.”

And then he sets his tongue to the tiny pearl at your entrance. 

And at once, you see stars.

“H-Hoseok!” you gasp, your hips flying off the bed at the contact. The urge to snap your legs shut is almost as strong as the urge to push deeper into the pleasing press of his tongue. Almost.

But he pins your legs down with his arms and continues the onslaught, stroking and licking at you with his tongue, nipping at you with his teeth. You grab fistfulls of the duvet as though it might ground you somehow, keep you from bursting into flame.

And then he slides one long finger into you.

You are incoherent now, moaning and begging in broken sentences that do not make sense. But your body is responding in ways that your words cannot, hips moving in time with his mouth. Each pass of his tongue sends sharp spikes of pleasure to your core. You’d thought you’d known what this pleasure felt like, that perhaps you’d be able to reach it on your own someday, but never once had it been like this. 

And then you can feel it – the coil turning inside you, the desperate ascent to the one place you’ve never been able to reach. And it’s so close, so so close – the promise of whatever awaits on the other side strong enough to sate this nameless craving that you’ve felt for so long. It’s within your reach now, if only you can just hold on.

And then it stops.

He takes his mouth and tongue away and the pleasure vanishes. “Hoseok, no,” you cry, sapped of all energy, robbed once again of the relief you so desperately seek. “Please,” you beg weakly, “please.”

But he’s at your side now, the length of his body resting against yours, his manhood hard and hot against your leg. “Come now, pretty bird,” he soothes, “I didn’t bring you this high just to let you fall.”

He presses his lips to your ear at the same time he presses his fingers back to the aching bud between your thighs. “Go on then,” he whispers. “Fly.”

He brings every sensation he’d wrought from you rushing back with his fingers. His mouth hovers at your ear, whispering his encouragement until the coil inside you snaps. He must have known that you’d not be able to contain yourself when you came apart because he covers your mouth with his own, swallowing the sobs he wrenches from you, bringing you down slowly as you come apart.

And when you finally come to your senses again, when your breathing has evened and your heart has slowed and every part of you feels liquid and languid, he smiles.

“I couldn’t risk you waking the entire castle,” he explains apologetically, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you shudder through your quiet laughter, aftershocks of sensation rippling through you. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve never – never experienced anything like that.”

“That’s mine,” he murmurs, going up on one elbow. “Just as I told you it would be.”

Indeed. But what about his pleasure? The firm reminder of it remains pressed against you, the rigid length of it leaking onto your duvet. You reach for it and he draws a sharp breath through his clenched teeth.

“I want to feel you inside me,” you say softly, noting the way a muscle tics in his jaw. You wrap your hand around him and squeeze, astounded by how feverishly hot he feels. “Please.”

Hoseok nods, climbing over you and settling his hips between your thighs. He takes himself in hand and when you feel the blunt head of him at your entrance, you tense again. But he doesn’t enter you right away. Instead he looks down at you, his dark eyes brimming with emotion.

“Are you certain,” he breathes, his brow dotted with a fine sheen of sweat. “I need to hear you say it.”

You lift up to kiss him, pressing your lips to his. “Take me, Hoseok,” you whisper. “Now.”

And in one sure stroke, he’s buried to the hilt inside you. 

Bodies sealed, fates sealed.

The force of his entry steals the breath from your lungs. And though you’ve been breached before, it’s never felt like this. You’re still sensitive from the pleasure he’d given you only moments before and each of his thrusts only heightens the sensation. 

You cling to him as he rocks against you, closing your eyes to revel in the fullness. He buries his head in your neck and thrusts harder, the sound of his skin meeting yours just as gratifying as it is lurid. And when he reaches between you to press his fingers to your pearl once again, impossibly you feel fresh pleasure begin to bloom.

Broken phrases fall from his lips, a string of curses and blessings and everything in between. And his coarse language doesn’t scandalize you; in fact it only causes you to hurtle towards the peak faster. And then you’re flying again – flying apart, scattering into a million pieces. Crying into his mouth as your release explodes into color and tiny wisps of fire slowly drift back to the earth.

But you come back to yourself just as his rhythm has started to falter, just as the steady cant of his hips becomes so frenetic that you know his own release is near. You have only a moment to mourn the loss of his weight and his warmth before he’s on his knees before you.

You’ve never seen anything more erotic. Firelight flickers over him as he throws his head back, the cords in his neck clenching as he takes himself in hand. And then he is groaning, long and low, as his release spills on to the duvet.

Then he collapses onto you, wrapping you up in his arms, turning you both until he’s on his back and your head rests upon his chest. And then you both lie there for a while, skin to skin,  watching the flames cast shadows on the stone.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Neither one of you sleep, the threat of dawn too near to indulge in any such luxury. 

“What happens now, Hoseok?”

You ask the question after he’s made love to you a second time, both of you too exhausted to move. Hoseok inhales and exhales deeply. “I don’t know. I have no control over the world outside of that chamber door, pretty bird.”

You map the lines of his chest with one finger, thoughtful.

“You told me earlier that if the King would not give me the things I desire, you would. Did you mean that?”

“I did,” Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your hair. “If it’s within my power, then I will. I will give you anything I can.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “Thank you.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You sit by the window and take in the afternoon sunlight, eyes drooping as you fight to stay awake.

You cannot ever remember being so tired. You sleep in fits and starts now, two or three hours at a time. And your body is too fatigued to talk up walking again, though the fresh air and exercise would do you some good. But you will walk again, soon. It won’t be long before you’re sitting with your birds and reading in the gentle Spring breeze.

Hyeri charges into the room like a bull, the tea tray in her hand clattering loudly. You narrow her eyes at her as she approaches and she fixes you with a sardonic look.“Oh, hush you,” she grumbles, setting the tray down on the table and walking over to you. “I wasn’t that loud.”

But her scowl falls away as her gaze locks on the baby at your breast, her muted eyes glowing with admiration. 

“That’s a fine Prince you have there, Your Grace,” she says softly. Then she looks up at you and her scowl returns. “Though at the rate you’re going, I’ll never get to hold him, will I? You’ve an entire staff to help you with him, and still you refuse. You’re going to make that boy rotten.”

You chuckle under your breath as you stroke your hand over the tuft of downy hair at your son’s crown. He blinks up at you with his huge dark eyes, and your heart is filled to overflowing with a love that you once you thought you’d never know. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

y,all i finished it! hahah okay so listen. if you'd like to talk to me, i'd love to hear from you. please consider reblogging and dropping me an ask 💕

[girls-alias]

Hi I love your work, any chance of an frenimes to lovers smut fic with dean x reader. With lots of sexual tension arguing then hot smut please? Maybe up against bunker wall can’t keep their hands off each other.

Frenemies - Dean Winchester

Title: Frenemies - Dean Winchester

Words: 6,303

Relations: Dean Winchester X Reader.

TW: Arguing, strong language, smut.

I sat at the table in the main room of the bunker, Sam and I had been searching for a new case while Dean was out doing God knows what. Dean and I, like usual had an argument this morning. If it wasn't for Sam I would have left long ago. He was my rock during college and my closest friend. We bonded quickly as he noticed my doorway covered in salt, as he was walking through the dorm rooms. We became best friends instantly. Often disregarding studying to exchange hunting stories. I was called back to the hunting life but kept in touch with Sam. Recounting my hunts to Sam as we often called once a week and always kept in touch even after years.

When Sam went back to hunting we often had many stories to exchange and hearing how Dean hadn't changed his ways only infuriated me. Sam had a lot to say about Dean even when we were in college. Dean was a copied and pasted version of John, his father. I tried defending Dean, assuming he must have some issues too but as soon as Sam was back on the road with him again and Dean was still acting like a prick I couldn't make any more excuses.

Dean and I, much to my dissatisfaction, met. I noticed Sam in the bar when I was on a hunt, I'd just arrived but once I caught up with Sam he had been here a few days and we were here for the same thing. Sam invited me to join him which I was over the moon about, until I remembered he hunts with Dean. I pleaded with him to give Dean the time off, Sam was considering it when Dean walked in, instantly approaching our table.

"Wow, little Sammy's on the prowl," He commented as he took a seat beside me. Facing his chair straight at me. I rolled my eyes sucking my teeth as I quickly glared at Sam for letting his brother in the same room as me. He's a pig. "You want to abandon him and have a good time with me?" He asked but I scoffed. I sat forward, closing the distance between Dean and me. He smirked thinking I was interested. I smirked, happy that I would soon ruin his mood.

"I'm not you Dean. I wouldn't abandon Sammy just because John - sorry I mean- You, told me to." I replied, glaring at him annoyed but smirking as his face dropped. He was instantly irritated. I raised an eyebrow waiting for a snarky remark Sam had often told me he was great at, but Dean sat back in his seat looking at me angrily. I smirked wider knowing I had silenced him.

Something I wish I could do more often, now he just acts childish and if he doesn't have something smart to say he just mocks my voice and pulls faces at me like a 5-year-old. Prick! If it wasn't for Sam I would have killed him. The only reason I started hunting with them full-time was because Dean called me to take care of Sam while he was recovering from drinking Demon's blood. I wasn't going to ignore Dean's plead for help when it was to help Sam.

I didn't look up at the sound of the bunker door opening as I knew it was Dean coming back. I rubbed my forehead, my headache coming on instantly, preemptive of the argument Dean and I always have when we're in the same room. He's just infuriating, I would have killed him a thousand times over if I didn't feel bad for Sam. Sam describes us as 'frenemies' we hate each other all the time but if someone threatened him I would kill them. Dean has done the same, I think we both recognise that it would hurt Sam if he lost either of us so we're simply protecting what Sam loves. Sam finds entertainment in our arguing half the time, it's probably the only reason we don't do it secretively.

Sam doesn't mind us bickering but if he saw us hit one another he would freak. Dean and I often punch each other, body shots, if Sam's leaving the room or he's not around. My favourite was when I lightly punched Dean in the balls as I passed him, following Sam out of the room. I turned back to put the finger up at him, watching satisfied as he hunched over in pain. Dean's favourite was probably when I was having a drink and he pulled my hair so I choked and got covered in my drink. I'd pulled out my gun when he did it but Sam walked in, he must have timed it.

I ignored the conversation as Sam asked where he had been. Dean grunted something in reply. I was getting better and better at not actually listening to him. His voice just sounds like groans to me now. God, I hate him more than I've ever hated anything or anyone.

“I was out. What’s it got to do with you?” Dean snapped at Sam. I instantly raised my gaze to glare at Dean slightly shocked and slightly annoyed. He rolled his eyes, groaning that he had got my attention.

“I know you’re not talking to Sam like that. Try again,” I demanded. My tone showed my short patience for him.

“I’m so sick of you picking fights with me, you hated me from the second we met,” he groaned, clenching his jaw as he noticed my angered expression. It wasn’t as intimidating as my look was of pure rage. I had done that expression to Dean before and he was terrified but he knew if he kept arguing back I would soon have that expression plastered across my face. He just gets under my skin like no monster ever has.

“Yeah, it was a great judgment call. You think you’re god gift but the perfect gift would be for you to be out of my life. Dean, you’re so infuriating,” I retorted. My voice raised and anger raised my heart rate. He rolled his eyes at me. I felt the rage coming up as he diverted his gaze slightly before huffing hot air from his chest and not backing down this time. “Roll your eyes at me again and I will blind you,” I threatened through gritted teeth.

“I don’t think you will.” He tested but I chuckled dryly. I stared at him for a second as he looked at me expectantly. I grinded my teeth slightly as I recognised he had finally grown a pair.

“Sam, leave,” I instructed. Not taking my eyes off Dean. He instantly looked a little hesitant but from the rate of his chest rising and falling, I knew he was almost as angry as me.

“No, I’m-“ Sam started.

“Get out,” Dean shouted. I instantly rose from my seat. I have killed many monsters that raised their voice or even glared at Sam. I have no shame in doing the same to Dean. I’m done with him now. There is no way I can put up with him anymore. I’m done. My chair clattered as it fell behind me. I couldn’t take my eyes off Dean. My vision turned red as my breathing became erratic.

“Don’t you dare shout at him!” I practically screamed at him. He clenched his jaw looking at Sam annoyed.

“Take baby,” he explained throwing Sam the keys. He hesitated to leave but as soon as the door closed behind him Dean looked at me. “Come on then. Blind me, punch me, stab me. Whatever it takes for you to get off your fucking high horse and stop being such a bitch.” He spat. I scoffed, tucking my teeth slightly as I nodded.

“Dean, you’re a pain in my ass. You’re such an idiotic, insensitive and obnoxious dick. You have no idea all the things I have dreamt of doing to you. I have dreamt of killing you so many times, if it wasn’t for Sam you would have died the day I met you.” I screamed now moving around the table to approach him. He scoffed. He may be taller but I’ve never been intimidated by height. If anything it motivates me more. If we’re ever fighting a group of vampires I always go for the biggest and baddest.

“See you say that but you’ve never even made me bleed. I’ve seen you overpower three demons at once when I was hurt. You care for me and I’m sick of you acting like you hate me,” he argued. I chuckled dryly shaking my head as my hands started to shake from the rage. He’s purposely trying to piss me off.

“Oh yeah, says the guy that cried in the back seat while you pulled the bullet from my side and thought I was dying,” I shouted but he clenched his jaw.

“That’s different,” he tried but I scoffed.

“You’re right it’s different, you cried like a bitch because you were going to lose me but when it was you I was angry. Angry that you’d have an attitude,” I retorted. He rolled his eyes. He rolled his eyes at me! Again! My fist connected to his cheek before he even finished rolling his eyes. I moved closer swiping his legs from under him and pushing his chest down as he fell to the floor. He wheezed clearly winded. “What have I told you about rolling your eyes at me?” I asked through gritted teeth. He looked at me furiously. With a swift movement, he elbowed me in the face, overpowered me and was now pining me down. I spat blood from my mouth, aiming my face away from him because I would kill anyone who spit on me, it's disgusting. Well, if they did it maliciously I would kill them.

"Not so big now, are you?" He smirked, thinking he had gotten the better of me. I bucked my hips up, hitting his side so he stumbled over my head. I hurried out from under him wrapped my legs around his and pinned his arms above his head so he was unable to move. He grunted, trying to free himself from my grasp. I smirked seeing how defeated he looked.

"Should have kept that pretty mouth shut," I exclaimed with a smug smirk. His eyes wandered as he thought. He quickly moved up, pressing his lips to mine. Instincts kicked in before I could think as I let go of his hands and moved away from him. He took this opportunity to push me backwards and follow me. He now pinned me and I glared at him as he chuckled.

"If you didn't want me to kiss you, you shouldn't be such a tease," He commented but I scoffed, I tried kneeing him in the balls but his legs kept mine in place, he chuckled at my attempt.

"In what universe am I a tease?" I asked, buying some time to think of how to get out of this. He scoffed as if my question was obvious.

"You mean to tell me, you don't do it on purpose?" He asked genuinely. I could see from his expression he was confused and was no longer speaking with venom in his tone. I stopped struggling beneath him as I looked at him confused. He's being serious. "You really don't know?" He asked, his grip loosening on me. I should take this as my opportunity, he's messing with me. He has to be.

I bent my knee, planting my foot on the ground before pushing off and rolling us. He seemed to not fight it as he was still genuinely confused by our conversation. He seemed to study me as if looking for a hint of me lying. He didn't fight back when I pinned him now. I rolled my eyes as he continued watching me. "What?" I asked annoyed wanting him to come out with it. He looked dazed, blinking a few times and lightly shaking his head.

"Nothing, forget I said anything," He tried, looking awkward and called out. My eyebrows furrowed as I recognised he seemed disheartened or upset.

"What?" I asked again, my tone slightly raised.

"Forget it," He shrugged. I rolled my eyes, my anger evaporating as I was stumped by what he was thinking about. I gave him a final jab to the ribs before getting up. I have to make sure he doesn't attack me when I stand up, this is probably a trick and I'm stupid enough to fall for it. I got up as he groaned in pain. I instantly left, sick of him. We finally fight and he does shit like that. He kissed me and called ME the tease. What is he smoking?

I stormed to the bathroom, checking my reflection as I noticed he had busted my bottom lip when he elbowed me in the face. I ran it under the water, cleaning it as I thought. What did he mean? He called me a tease and was confused that I didn't understand. He asked if I was serious about not knowing. When have I ever been a tease? I make it apparently clear that I hate Dean.

Yeah, there was a time on a hunt when I had to pretend to be his girlfriend but as soon as we were alone I punched his arm for grabbing my ass. He didn't hear the end of it for weeks as I constantly called him an opportunist prick. I rolled my eyes, knowing he was just trying to get in my head because I was winning.

I walked out of the bathroom, swiftly making my way to my room. I walked a few steps before Dean approached me from behind. I groaned showing I was not interested in his arguments right now, or gloating that he got in my head. He seemed to walk with purpose, I turned my head to look at him but he spun me around and pressed me against the wall. I looked at him confused and annoyed as he seemed angry. I pushed my foot away from the wall so he was now pinned on the opposing wall. He groaned at my movement, he started rolling his eyes but quickly stopped himself knowing how much it pisses me off.

"You haven't been teasing me?" He asked, almost as a statement. My eyebrows furrowed.

"Dean, I have made it abundantly clear that I hate you," I explained but he scoffed.

"So, you walking around in my t-shirt last week was an accident?" He asked but I chuckled.

"Yes, I thought it was Sam's," I argued but he shook his head.

"You continued to wear it the rest of the day," He tried but I scoffed.

"Well, I wasn't going to take it off in front of you," I scoffed, he sucked his teeth annoyed.

"Okay, what about when you give me those eyes you do, or when you bite your lip? There are thousands of times when you've teased me," He urged but I looked at him like he was crazy.

"That's called wishful thinking," I groaned but he shook his head.

"No, that's me being observant," He argued. He pushed against the wall so he was pinning me again, this time pushing his whole body against me so I couldn't move. I huffed as I recognised it would be difficult to get out. "You look at me like you want to fuck me, your heart rate increases and you struggle to speak unless you're shouting at me. You bite your lip at more things I say than Sam. You make pornographic sounds when I enter a room and you avoid being alone in a room with me," He explained but I chuckled dryly.

"All those things are me being angry with you. I don't look at you like I want to fuck you, I look at you like I want to kill you. I groan when you enter a room because it isn't pleasant being around you. I don't want to be alone with you because one day I actually will kill you," I explained through gritted teeth but he smirked.

"Then why did you hesitate when I kissed you?" He asked but I scoffed, slightly laughing in his face.

"Because I didn't expect it," I retorted but he smirked.

"Okay, then here's your warning. I'm going to kiss you," He said before quickly connecting his lips to mine. I didn't move my mouth, trying to bring my hand up to punch him in the face but he caught my wrist as he pinned it to the wall above my head.

I decided to kiss him back, figuring I could distract him long enough for him to let go of my wrist. I moved my lips against him, recognising his smile as I did. His tongue entered my mouth unexpectedly. I played along, giving him access but not allowing myself to enjoy it. He moved my other wrist to his other hand, pinning both of my arms in one of his hands. He moved his free hand down my side before pulling my body against his by my waist. I gasped softly at the movement. He smirked against my lips. I begged myself to stop enjoying it. I hate this man! I hate Dean Winchester!

And yet, he's kissing me and I want more. His free hand danced on the hem of my shirt, moving up to feel the skin on my side. His hand grazed my scar from the bullet he pulled out of me with purpose. I grew weak as my tongue fought his, my mind begging me to fight this but my body craving his touch. He grinded his hips against mine, his hard bulge making me moan as I craved the touch. I'm not the type to sleep with random people so my natural instinct was to get my sexual frustration satisfied. His grip on my wrists loosened as I moaned, my hands falling free. He started pulling away from the kiss expecting me to punch him. Even I expected to punch him.

My hand moved to the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. My brain frazzled as I recognised that I needed this. I need him. His tongue reentered my mouth as he grinded his hips into me again, smirking as I moaned into his mouth. His left hand moved to my thigh, pulling it to his side as he pushed his hips against me so my back was flat against the wall again. My eyes rolled to the back of my head at his movement. He moved from my lips, kissing down my neck as he began making out with my skin. Open-mouthed kisses were sure to leave hickeys. I breathed deeply, moans escaping me as he pushed his hard erection against my wet and ready pussy.

I gasped as he bit my skin, his grip tightening and nails digging into my skin. "You still irritate me, Dean," I explained, still moaning from his touch. He chuckled softly against my skin.

"Then, tell me to stop," He teased but I didn't have it in me. I need him and he knows this. Maybe I always did need him but didn't want to admit it. I caved way too easily. It would explain why he frustrates me so much. He took my silence as a cue to continue. He kissed my neck with more purpose. His hand on my waist moved to the bottom of my back. "Jump," He explained before leaning back. I jumped slightly. I wrapped my legs around him as he released my thigh and held my ass to hold my weight. I hastily connected our lips.

He moaned against my lips as he walked me down the hall. He kicked open the first door and came down with me as he lay me on the bed. I moaned, knowing instantly we both wanted more than just this. I rolled my hips against him earning a moan from his lips. He kissed me with more passion, his hands travelling to the bottom of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head, his mouth reconnecting with mine as his hands explored my bra-covered breasts. His hips seemed to grind against me out of instinct. He pulled away to pull his shirt from over his head with my help. He grinned widely before his lips found mine again. He's clearly happy we're doing this.

I moaned, my head pushing into the bed as my eyes rolled to the back of my head. He took the opportunity to kiss my neck. His hands moved behind my back to unclasp my bra. I stopped his movements as he started pulling it from my body and leaving me exposed. He pulled back to look at me a little confused.

"Lock the door," I instructed but he looked at me like I was stupid.

"We're the only ones here," He retorted but I rolled my eyes. He's too irritating why did I want to do this? I rolled my eyes, shaking my head as I recognised my mistakes. How on Earth was I stupid enough to believe he wouldn't irritate me? He groaned, getting up and walking to the door. I half expected him to leave but he shut the door and locked it. Turning back with a defeated expression. "Happy?" He asked, his tone showing his disappointment.

"Dean, I swear to God-" I explained as I sat up, arms covering my breasts as I glared at him as he approached me.

"Shut up," He simply stated as he came back on top of me and reconnected our lips.

"You piss me off," I explained against his lips.

"Good," He retorted only making my heart beat quicken and it was unclear if it was because I hated him or needed him. He gripped the bra which was still unclasped but on my arms. He ripped it away from my body harshly. I chuckled, against his lips before his tongue entered my mouth. Our tongues dance in the middle. I rolled my hips into him, and he moaned into my mouth. I smirked slightly.

Dean got up, he watched me with hungry eyes before gripping the top of my leggings and harshly pulling them down. I gasped but smirked at his eagerness. I was dragged down the bed slightly so he could rid me of my clothes. My heart beat so fast I worried he could hear it. I watched intently as his chest rose and fell rapidly, at least I knew he was excited too. He unbuttoned his jeans, his eyes never leaving my face as I bit my lip, watching his hands. I gulped, as he pulled the edge of his jeans apart so the zip came undone. I gulped, biting down harder on my lip as I waited impatiently for multiple reasons, I haven't had sex in probably close to a year, I have no idea how big he will be and I am too wet to think straight.

Dean pulled his jeans down, his boxers purposely staying up to make me wait. I rolled my eyes slightly as I looked into his smiling eyes. He chuckled seeing my annoyance but he soon smirked. He watched me intently as he pulled down his boxers. I looked down, my eyes widening as I clenched my jaw knowing it would have dropped open from the shock if I didn't. Holy shit! His cock is huge. He continued to smirk smugly as he slowly started stroking himself.

"Looks like I've found a way to shut you up," He commented, his tone riddled with sex. He's a slut. I finally looked back at his face, his smirk, the way at me, his eyes. All of it was pornographic and all of it made me even wetter.

"Where are you putting that?" I asked seriously. His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "That's way too big, it isn't going to fit," I explained but he laughed, moving back in. I lay down as he guided me down. His lips curled into a smile as he connected our lips. I pulled away to look at him but he moved his lips to my neck. I moaned from the sensation. "Dean, seriously though. I haven't had sex in a year, be gentle at first," I managed through my moans. He smirked against my neck.

"Y/N," He practically moaned, his tip pressing on the inside of my thigh making me whimper. "You're in charge, tell me when it hurts and when to go for it," He explained between kisses on my neck. I gulped nodding quickly knowing I was ready and almost to the point of begging. My hands quickly found his neck and back as he moved up to connect our lips. I kissed him pleadingly, passion seeping from our lips as our tongues danced. He pulled back to look me in the eyes, his eyes appeared darker in the shadows of the light. His fast breathing came out as something close to growls. "Ready?" He asked genuinely. His voice was deeper and full of desire. I bit my lips, legs clenching for a second as a reaction from his voice. I nodded. He didn't move, he just continued watching me.

"Yeah, yeah. Dean I'm ready," I gulped, wanting him to hurry up so I could feel him inside me. He smirked, and he sat up moving to align his tip with my entrance. I gulped slightly.

"Tell me if you want to stop," He instructed. I smiled softly knowing he didn't want me to feel uncomfortable. I've never felt so safe having sex with someone for the first time. He pushed his tip in softly. His hands on my waist and thumbs rubbing my skin softly. I bit my lip. Whimpering slightly. It didn't hurt yet but I was getting scared of the pain that was about to come. Dean smiled comfortingly as he leaned forward to continue kissing me. I smiled against his lips knowing kissing him would give me a bit of distraction.

I gasped slightly as he slowly pushed in. As soon as the gasp left my lips he stopped, looking at me concerned. "Sorry," I chuckled a little awkwardly.

"You want to stop?" He asked, his hips hesitating to move back. I shook my head with a smile.

"No, It just felt good," I blushed. He chuckled with relief. I placed my hand on the back of his neck to pull his lips to mine. I moved my hand to his back, pulling him closer. He took this as a hint to slowly push inside me. I whimpered, my head dropping back as he entered me. I could feel Dean watching me intently. He stopped the second my eyebrows furrowed, wincing from the stretch. I breathe in through gritted teeth. The pain a little sharp but

"You're doing so good baby," He commented, kissing my cheek as I smiled at his words. Hearing him call me baby seemed to flick a switch inside me, my insides turned to mush and I suddenly had no idea how I'd ever disliked him. "Either you're ready to continue or you like it when I call you baby," He commented, I giggled softly, my eyes finding his as he licked his lips.

"Both," I smirked, he groaned slightly just admiring me. I grinned, leaning up to kiss him. His lips devoured mine, his tongue entering my mouth as if he owned it. He slowly pushed his hips into mine. My moans were muffled by his lips, he hesitated to continue but I wasn't moaning in pain, it was all pleasure. My hand on his back pulled him in, and he smirked against my lips recognising my want and need for him to continue.

His hips continued, my hard cock reaching places inside me I didn't know were reachable. A small fragment of my brain wondered if he was abnormally big or if I had only been with guys who had smaller dicks. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as his hips finally met mine. He groaned, his jaw loosening as he pushed deep inside me. My head pressed into the mattress, my moans coming out soft and slow.

He waited, letting me adjust if I needed to. He started at an incredibly slow pace. His forehead resting on my shoulder, his breaths staggered as he moved agonisingly slow. My nails dug into his back, the feel of his dick slowly gliding in and out with long strides making me weak but his tip hitting my G-spot made me moan animalistically. His strides seemed to be precise and measured, his moans melting with mine as his pace picked up a little.

"This okay, baby?" He asked, his pace never faltering. I nodded quickly, humming a yes as a reply. He kissed my shoulder gently, his smile pressing on my skin. I smiled, simply knowing he was smiling. "Fuck, baby." He groaned as I rolled my hips into his, his cock reaching deeper inside me and almost making me scream instantly.

He bowed his head, bending his neck and adjusting his upper body to suck on my nipple as he continued to fuck me. My eyes rolled to the back of my head from the new sensation. My moans escaped me as if they were expelled from my soul and not breaking through my lips. Dean seemed to take my enjoyment as a challenge to please me more. His hips moved faster, his strides not any less precise and his breathing became more laboured as he too enjoyed the sensations. My pulsing walls clenched around his hard cock making it near impossible for him to not build up.

He sat up, holding my hips in one hand while his other hand moved to where we were joined. I inhaled harshly as his thumb came in contact with my clit. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he watched me, entertained by my reactions and clear enjoyment. I moaned, a little louder than I'd ever moaned before. His thumb rode my ball of nerves and gave me sensations I didn't think possible.

"Fuck, Dean. Don't stop," I moaned, a knot in my stomach tightening and causing my brain to envision fireworks.

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby," He commented, his voice laboured as his breath was quick. I moaned from his voice, the sexy voice that I used to zone out but now know that it's capable of making me almost squirt. I moaned at the thought. I never imagined Dean would be this good in bed. Each push inside kissed my G-spot with force. His thumb works on my clit as if he knows all the things I want without knowing I want it. His voice sent shivers down my spine and clenched my walls around him. "Where's those beautiful eyes?" He asked, deep desire in his tone. My eyes are rolled to the back of my head. I opened my eyes, and instant eye contact had me rolling my eyes again. His green eyes, sharp jaw, light stubble, amazing hair. God! Everything about this man is making my orgasm grow closer and closer.

"Show me your eyes baby," He commented, his breathing almost coming out in growls. I hummed, my orgasm tightening and tensing my muscles. I found the strength to open my eyes, watching as he looked down at me with a dirty smirk. He knows exactly what he's doing to me. I struggled to maintain eye contact as his dick slammed into my G-spot, my orgasm dangerously close.

"Dean, I'm so close," I whimpered, my moans escaping my lips hastily.

"Good, baby. I want you to cum. I want to feel you cum around me," I gulped, my moans escaping more breathlessly. The knot is my stomach almost reaching capacity. "Cum for me, baby. I'm so close," He struggled. Knowing he was close, his sweat beading down his bare chest, his strained expression and unquivering pace sent me over the edge. I gripped the bedsheets beside me, my whole body seemed to tense as the orgasm hit me like a truck.

"Fuck, Dean," I moaned, I gasped before a scream escaped my lips. I hummed as Dean hurried to kiss me. Silencing me as he continued fucking me through my orgasm. My vision darkened, my eyes squeezed shut and my brain turned to mush. My hands found his back, nails digging in as I moaned into his mouth. He pulled back a little, his face scrunched up slightly as he fought off his orgasm wanting to finish mine before he came.

"Fuck. Fuck," He erupted, pulling out of me. His hand pumping his cock as he came up my stomach, I breathed deeply, legs shaking as his thumb never moved from my clit. He groaned, cum spurting out of him as he rested his sweat-covered forehead on mine. I bit my lips, my orgasm subsiding as I watched his orgasm overtake him. His thumb stopped working on my overly stimulated clit. Now resting on the bed beside me. His other hand slowed as the last pump of cum left him and fell onto me. His warm liquid drawing pattern on my skin.

Our breathing was rapid and from Dean's swaying, I knew he wanted nothing more than to lie down. I smiled, admiring him before his eyes finally opened to meet mine. I bit my lip watching as his expression lit up at the sight of me. His lips curled into a smile for a second before he leaned in to kiss me. The kiss was sloppy and slow. Humming as he pulled away, I smiled at him. He chuckled softly as he bit his lip.

"I don't think I've ever cum so hard," He commented quietly, almost whispering. I giggled as I smirked, my cheeks blushing as I admired his details up close. Wishing I could take a mental picture of this moment.

"Me too," I chuckled, he smiled but soon winced with a sigh. I looked at him concerned, wondering if he was in pain, figuring it was a cramp.

"I'll get you a towel," He commented sadly, I chuckled knowing he didn't want to leave this moment as much as I did. His hands holding up his weight seemed to wobble as he was tired.

"Who's room is it?" I asked, not wanting to take my eyes off him for a second. He looked at me a little confused before looking to the side of the bed.

"Yours," I smirked at his reply.

"I'll change the sheets," I shrugged, he instantly understood. Kissing me quickly before moving beside me to lie down. Is it too weird to cuddle? Dean's hand found my shoulder pulling my body in. I chuckled happily as he pulled me into a cuddle, relief overcoming me. I rested my head on his shoulder, my leg draping over his as my arm came up to lie on his chest. My fingers automatically draw patterns on his warm skin. I watched as he smiled brightly. He turned to look at me. Kissing my forehead before admiring me.

We lay in silence for a while, happily catching our breaths and enjoying each other's company. I smiled, just remembering what we had just done and all the emotions that came with it.

"Hey, baby?" His tone was curious. I looked up at him with a smile. He's still calling me baby. "Do you still hate me?" He asked genuinely. My eyebrows furrowed as I shook my head.

"No, I don't think I ever did," I explained, my hand moving to his cheek. He smiled at the contact.

"I'm sorry for everything I've done and every horrible thing I've said to you and Sam when I was angry," He explained, sadness in his tone. I smiled softly.

"I'm sorry too, I promise from now on I will be nothing but nice," I tried but he winced. I looked at him puzzled as he smirked.

"Maybe not all the time. You're really hot when you're angry," He commented, I chuckled as I shook my head. He kissed my forehead with a bright smile. He seemed deep in thought as he played with my hair. "I do want to make this a regular thing though," He commented, his tone showing sincerity. My smile beamed as I nodded.

"Me too," I commented biting my lip as I watched his lips curl into a smile.

"Good, if that's what my baby wants, that's what my baby gets," He added, I blushed as he moved his hand to my chin. He leaned down, and I leaned in the rest of the way to kiss him. His hands played with my hair as our kiss was slow and meaningful. Passion radiates from us. "Can I keep calling you baby?" He asked against my lips. I hummed a yes as I continued to kiss him. His lips smiled against mine, never breaking contact. "Can I take you on a date?" He asked, his lips pushing into mine as if he didn't want words, just actions. I blushed wanting nothing more than to scream a yes. I hummed yes again. I pulled away to smile at him.

"Of course, Dean," I smiled, his lips curled to a smirk. He hummed happily, tucking some loose hair behind my ear.

"I've always loved the way you say my name," He commented, connecting our lips again. I melted into the kiss knowing I would give anything to stay here forever.

Masterlist

[eliorabunny]

deny me

angstyyyyyy!!!!! bestfriend!chris x fem!reader, unrequited luvvvv

𐀔⋆ ིྀ₊𖧧 “i get this twisted and sickening feeling i’m gonna marry you” 🂱*𖦹°‧ ༘

𖦹 genre: fluffy angst, no happy ending (unless i decide to do an alternate version) ✄༝𑁤

𖦹 word count: 547 𖧧

𖦹 a/n: first thing i’ve written on here yippie🧚🏻‍♀️ also do i tell my friend/producer i’m using their song for plot inspiration. stream grace gardner everyone they fucking rock

i’m feeling moody so now y’all are too ᵕ̈ ̤̮

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌❀°✩⋆ʚ♡ɞ⋆✩°❀﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

it felt painfully safe to lie in his arms.

any moment with him, really, made her heart plummet deep into her gut. her rosy thoughts of him felt wrung out like a towel every time they were together. each minute gnawed at the fragile bones of a fading daydream. for once, she actually wished her best friend liked her more than that.

unfortunately, he was respectful.

they’d known each other since childhood, always seeing movies together at the local theatre and getting ice cream across the street afterwards. she knew which monopoly piece he’d choose (the terrier) and he knew which ice cream truck character she’d pick (spider-man). only those who have surpassed love and found themselves in a deeper bond could remember details like that.

which is why it hurt so much more once she realized she was falling. honestly, it felt more like repeatedly tumbling over exposed roots and snarled branches in a cliffside nosedive. she chuckled bitterly to herself at the cartoonish image, eliciting a raspy “hmmm?” from the sleepy arms around her.

“oh.. was that out loud?” she mumbled bashfully, as reality yanked her back from imagination. she turned to look up at the boy sitting next to her on the couch, who nodded slowly. his half-lidded but steady eye contact would have made her collapse if she wasn’t already curled up against him. a vague redness crept towards her face, and she struggled to ignore the corners of his mouth twitching towards an amused smile.

“what are you thinking about?” he asked softly, laying a gentle finger on the skin between her eyebrows. she tried to disregard the idea that superheroes ever had the ability to read minds. her eyes wandered to the collar of his hoodie, which had slipped enough to let his collarbone taunt her, dare her, to move closer.

and if the lights were dimmer, she wouldn’t have seen it.

a violet, blooming there on his chest. a mark of someone else’s teeth and lust. a tear begged to be set free, pricking the corner of her eye. she prayed her mascara would remain faithful and squeezed her eyes shut.

“hey,” he whispered, pulling her into a tighter hug. she melted against his neck, idly chewing on the sleeve of her sweatshirt as her focus dissolved. this particular sleeve had a heart-shaped patch sewn onto it, a playful gift from her best friend. it felt ironic now, knowing her feelings would only cause trouble if she let them show.

the warmth of his lips just inches from her forehead was devastating. her skin ached for contact, and she mindlessly tilted her head upwards. her gaze met azure, caged by enviably long lashes. the delicate beauty of his features overwhelmed her, and she quickly glanced down to the offensive blossom on his neck.

she contemplated bringing it up, knowing every response would shatter her. the sight was torturous, and she felt her tether to paradise disintegrating as she pointed. her mouth opened slightly, and she felt the pressure behind her eyes threatening to betray her.

his eyes followed the line of her finger and felt his heart wilt. they shared an understanding, silent moment, and he pretended not to notice the tear that traced an apologetic line down his shoulder.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌❀°✩⋆ʚ♡ɞ⋆✩°❀﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[rainba]

Guilt and Jealousy ღ

eee.. Sorry, this is messy.. I randomly wanted to write another fic. ^^;;;;;; Not really proofread..

Basically: Ace suddenly discovers that you're dating someone else without telling him, and he can't stand the idea of that. Can't think straight.

CWs: Noncon, possessive/toxic behaviors, mentions of blood and biting

MDNI. 18+

Reader is GN!

Jealousy is a poison that can destroy anyone infected by it. The heat of a moment can makes a person’s mind melt or burn to ashes. A love too intense can make almost any person betray their morals.

Ace never wanted to hurt you.

Ace never wanted to make you cry.

But you were a flame, and he was an explosive. You lingered too close to the fuse that’s tied to him, and now you have to bear witness to the side of him he never wanted you to see.

Ace couldn’t understand how things ended up this way. Mere hours ago, you were jumping in the crowd, smiling for him, cheering him on and smiling so warmly. Mere hours ago, you were drinking and laughing and proudly wearing merchandise with his band’s logo printed on the front. But now…

Now…

“Please, let me go! I– I’m sorry!”

“Please, d-don’t hurt me! Ace, please!”

Your brand-new shirt was cast aside and ripped to shreds.

Your bright smile was replaced by a look of sheer terror paired with an onslaught of tears. What had you done to drag Ace down to this level…?

You kissed another man in front of him.

Remembering the way you kissed that other man made Ace’s mind spiral into a dark, frenzied mess. You and that other person– you and that purple-eyed freak in the crowd… Since when were the two of you dating? 

Why didn’t Ace know beforehand? 

How could you betray him like this…? Ace thought that you loved him. You always told him that you loved him.

How could you?

How could you hurt him like this?

You must’ve kept your relationship a secret from Ace. You must’ve kept it extremely well-hidden. But… Why?

Why?

“I- I’m sorry…!”

Ace could apologize all he wants, but he couldn’t make his body stop. His shaking hands were desperately tearing away at what little clothing you still had on. His watering eyes refused to stray away from yours. 

God, he felt guilty, but he was completely devoid of self-control.

The only way to get him to stop was for you to make him.

…But you couldn’t.

Ace apologized once more as his jaw opened wide, revealing his dangerous fangs. The sharp ends were pointed directly at your skin, ready to sink themselves into your flesh at any second. All you could do was brace for impact.

And right before he bit down, he softly mumbled the words, “I love you.”

By sinking his fangs deep into your shoulder, escape was no longer an option.

Everything was happening fast- way too fast. Ace refused to remove his teeth as he began to undo his pants, removing the pins from the heavy fabric as he also pushed down his boxers. His cock was already hard; precum leaking from the tip.

Images of you and that other man kept racing through Ace’s mind. You looked so happy… You looked so in love…

It should’ve been him.

Ace wishes it was him.

If you had just loved Ace from the start, none of this would’ve happened.

With his fangs still buried deep inside of your shoulder, Ace pried open your legs, trying his best to ignore the way you scream and beg for him to stop.

Ace needs this. 

He needs you more than anything.

His mind races: if he claims you here and now, there’s no chance of you leaving him for someone else. If he fucks you senseless and possesses you fully, you’ll never wish to leave his side. You’ll be his forever.

Does it make sense? No, not in the slightest. Is Ace aware that all he’s doing is traumatizing you and permanently ruining his relationship with you? Absolutely. But the irrational, animalistic side of his mind is taking control, and he can’t stop himself from giving in to his disgusting, depraved desires. 

He can’t let anyone else have you.

Ace positions his cock at your entrance, rubbing his tip against it lightly. His breathing is incredibly heavy; he’s partially afraid that he’ll cum within the first few pumps.

“N-no, please, don’t… Ace, you’re better than this! Don’t do this!”

Your words pierce him directly in his aching heart, and for a second, he considers listening to your pleas.

But it’s too late now. He’s gone too far.

With guilt written all over his face, he looks up at you with tears in his blue eyes. He can’t stand to hear your begging anymore– so he lifts his left hand and presses it firmly against your mouth. Silencing you.

And with nothing more left to lose, he thrusts himself deep inside of you, your walls instantly tightening around his length. Ace sweetly moans as his fangs sink deeper into you.

Ace tries to fuck you slowly at first, wanting things to be more ‘sensual’, but he quickly loses self-control in that aspect as well. His hips begin to move fast and erratically, sweat trickling down his pale skin as he pushes himself as deep inside of you as possible.

Inside of his messy mind, there's a part of him that feels warm and happy- excited at how he has finally become 'one' with you.

He moans and whimpers embarrassingly loud- his right hand grips one of your thighs and pries your legs open wider. He enjoys this for a while, but the position quickly becomes old- Ace is desperate to fuck you in so many ways.

Without a warning, he suddenly retracts his fangs from your shoulder, pain surging throughout your entire body as he laps up the blood that drips from your wound.

It tastes… Strange in his mouth. Your blood doesn’t taste like anything else he’s tried before. But your blood isn’t what he’s after– no, what he wants is your soft lips.

Ace removes his left hand from your face, but before you can utter even a single word, he forces his lips onto yours. You taste your own blood against your will as he shoves his tongue deep inside your mouth.

It’s strange- Ace seems so giddy as he explores your mouth. Every inch, every crevice- he goes over it with his tongue. His strong hands move down to your legs as he moves them as far up as he possibly can, firmly sandwiching you between himself and the surface beneath you. He fucks you even faster, thrusts his cock even deeper, and whimpers your name relentlessly.

It feels... Wrong being used by Ace like this. You can't help but feel dirty.

Yes- you cared for him deeply- but you're in love with someone else now.

Hell, you never thought it was even possible for Ace to be in love with you… He always seemed so busy with his band, seemed so busy living out his dreams…

You had a crush on him a long time ago, you used to always say that you love him, but all of those feelings had been cast aside.

And now, here you are… Being fucked by him against your will.

It made you want to scream. It made you want to cry. The feelings inside of your heart are conflicting– and this stinging pain is like nothing else you’ve experienced before.

Bitter tears keep streaming down your cheeks, but Ace doesn’t seem to notice them.

Deep down, there’s a small part of him that believes you secretly want this. A small part of him that believes you wanted him to chase you and forcefully claim you like this.

...Perhaps it’s his mind trying to cope with the fact that what he’s doing is morally reprehensible.

Ace loathes the idea of being a bad person.

He thrusts his cock deeper into you as he chases his high. He’s close- so close- and his body is begging for a release. Ace makes sure to grind against your most sensitive spots; he’s determined to make you cum as well.

His cock twitches as your walls tighten around him, involuntarily drawing him closer to his peak. Ace wrap his arms around your body as he pulls you into a warm embrace, hugging you gently as fucks you needily.

His breath hitches. He gasps loudly.

“C-cum… Cumming… I’m- I’m so- I’m sorry!”

It’s far too late to go back now. When he has you trapped in the cage of his arms like this, the only thing he can do is cum deep inside of you, his eyes rolling into the back of his head while he pushes you down onto his cock. It feels so good- it's heaven on earth.

His orgasm hits like a white-hot explosion.

And as he relishes in his high, he lowers his hand and rubs your most sensitive areas, forcing you to climax as well.

Ace’s breathing is heavy. His head lowers in both shame and remorse.

But when he looks down, he can’t help but admire the way his cum is spilling out of you. He regrets everything that has happened on this night- he regrets ever hurting you in any way, shape or form. He'll have to beg for forgiveness. But at the same time…

He can’t help but feel like he didn’t have a choice.

Now you’re his. You belong to him.

And that makes him happy.

If that other man dares to come near you again, Ace might do another thing that he’ll sincerely regret.

[stinmybubs]

" Doing It For ME." Pt.3

Summery: The quirkless girl finally moving on. A new path ahead of her, her own that she can carve out, instead of following behind her first love Izuku Midoriya. But nothing ever stays. And its time to say goodbye to the Bakugou Family.

WARNING: PTSD Attack!!!

M. Izuku x AFAB! Reader x B. Katsuki

Pt.1 | Pt.2

Katsuki Bakugou. He is horrible at expressing he is horrible at expressing his emotions, when he first saw you, sitting there all alone on the bench he couldn't help but pity you, especially after the day he had he felt nice so he let you in.

Slowly but surely your presence became something he needed, it didn't help that you always hung around Izuku all day which pissed him off, but in the end you always came home with him.

But now that school is over, you looking for jobs and a good high school while he was getting into UA, he was afraid you two would drift. That he would loose you.

Katsuki Bakugou loved you. He never will admit it, he never will say it but he knew he did. But seeing you crying and hugging Deku on the last day of school made him livid, to the point where he couldn't even look at you for days.

His jealousy was his downfall.

You, oblivious to his love, you were confused why the rowdy boy was ignoring you at home. It disheartened you, he was the only thing you had left. This home was the only thing you had left.

“Hey! Katsu? You’ve been ignoring me I just-“ you followed him into his room, shutting his door so you could have this private talk with you. What startled you was him suddenly slamming you against the wall, hands gripping your shoulders.

“Ah! Katsu- that hurts..” you wince confused at his sudden aggression. “Stop botherin’ me…how about you go to your lover Deku so you two can be a happy quirkless couple.” Katsuki grinding his teeth, the grip on your shoulder tightened.

“Wha-what’s are you talking about!? Stop it you’re hurting me!” You could feel your heart begin to race, memories of your father beginning to flash through your mind until all you saw was your father standing in front of you.

Your body filled with fear, tears welling into your eyes as your breathing begins to quicken. “Please…” you couldn’t breath. You started to panic and you started to struggle. Wriggling around so he would try and let you go.

Katsuki’s anger and jealousy consumed him, not realizing what he was doing to you until he saw your face morph into a horrified look. A look you have your father the last day you saw him. Shit. Katsuki quickly released you realizing you were starting to have a PTSD attack.

“Hey..- hey it’s okay. Shit Y/n I’m sorry!” You collapsed to the floor and begin to crawl away, struggling to get back on your feet and out the door.

“Y/n!” You couldn't hear Katsuki, all you heard was your father yelling. You felt like a kid again, the day after you found out you couldn’t develop a quirk. Your father had slammed you into a wall screaming curses at you.

You quickly run into the bathroom, trying your best to make yourself smaller in the bathtub. Trying your best to keep your crying as quiet as possible. Crying until you passed out in the tub.

You and Mitsuki were packing your things, preparing you for the hospital.

“Thank you Mitsuki…for everything…for accepting me into your home. I just don’t think I can…” she cut you off hugging you. “It’s okay I understand.” Mitsuki began to tear up.

“Take care of yourself okay? Promise to keep in touch.” Mitsuki Bakugou. The mother you never had, she gave you the world, if only you could repay her.

Dragging your small luggage, you turn to look at Katsuki “it’s okay Katsu…it’s not you, I just need to work on…my...uh goodbye. Thank you so much, for everything.” You give him a big smile, wiping your tears before entering the bus.

Leaving everything behind.

Katsuki wished he could stop loving you.

He wished he had never let you in.

While in the hospital you had talked with various councilors about your future, giving you classes to see which course you wished to take while you were taking therapy. Diagnosed with PTSD, and Severe Anxiety disorder.

They said being a hero was out of the question, being quirkless and having PTSD of grown men being violent wouldn't mix well, so many factors were involved you didn't know if you could even have a future job anywhere. You needed a job that nothing to do with violence, was nowhere near the violence and where you could work on your own with no triggers around you.

"Have you ever thought of taking the support course? Inventors? You wouldn't have to interact with anyone as long as they put in a commission." Your head perked up, the sound of being helpful to Izuku from behind the scenes sounded like a dream.

"That sounds great! But...where do I start? I've never touched any sort of mechanics in my life!" You stated. Only being in the hospital for a few months, hearing from Mitsuki that Izuku and Katsuki had made it into UA.

"We can help you by setting up some classes, take it over this and you can transfer into a real high school when the time is right. Recovery is very important!"

So began your new passion, something of your own. Something you can do for yourself and for others! You finally can be useful for once in your life. But you decided that you didn't want your name out there at all, you wished to go under a hero like name, an alias.

Protea, a flower that represented strength, courage and resilience.

Time felt faster than ever, you spent your days hauled up in a garage making little gadgets and gizmos, taking everything Izuku had told you about hero's in consideration. It was almost like art, with a lot of welding and math.

This little hobby helped you move forward, but not forget. Something to keep your mind occupied was the healthiest thing you can think of, especially building your portfolio for the various support courses in the different schools. It was a shot in the dark but you submitted one for UA as well, you knew you couldn't do it but there wasn't any harm in trying.

Maybe you couldn't be Izuku's future, but you could help make a path for him.

From afar of course.

When your counselor brought the various envelopes from the schools you submitted your portfolio and application to. You were terrified, the fear of being rejected swallowed you whole.

"Deep breath Y/n, I know for a fact you'll get into one! Youve been doing a great job, and your progress has been amazing!" Your counselor placed the envelopes on the desk in front of you.

You let out a deep breath, slowly opening each one some were just regular letters and others were these flashy video tapes, the one you paid attention to the most was UA, your hopes were high wishing and praying that you hear the words of acceptance.

"Congratulations Y/n! You have been accepted into-!"

Your eyes widen, a smile creeping across your face.

I'll finally can make use of myself....

I can help!

AN: I imagine in this society certain hospitals are different and better! Mitsuki wanted you to have the best care! I used my own experience with PTSD and fear of men yelling in this! Thank you all so much Xoxo Stinmybubs! Also the school you think she's gonna get into might not be it. ;)