#but just like water color it’s something you simply learn to work with and appreciate

[beetlethebug]

hello today my thoughts are consumed by Spite flirting with Emmrich and Lucanis to rile up Rook. Even better with a Rook without Spirit Sense, so they can only gauge what's going from the occasional lapse of Lucanis' control over Spite and the blushing, near-stuttering messes they become. Especially during meals with the whole Veil Guard. Spite learning some sense of subtlety through osmosis, so he starts with compliments. Granted, Spite's "subtle" compliments are typically ones without expletives, so they are still intense and heated and, if they catch Emmrich at the right time, enough to make his voice stutter.

He starts by stating the things Lucanis already likes about Emmrich. Things that they both hold in high on the list of things they appreciate about Emmrich. Flirting on Lucanis' behalf, if you would. "Lucanis loves your hands, professor," paired with just enough power exerted to force Lucanis' head to tilt in the direction of Emmrich's hands, baring his throat just enough that Emmrich can see it bob in a swallow as Emmrich finishes cutting himself a bite. "He would very much like to see those hands wrapped around something else. He made a new set of choking cords just for you. Did you know that? He made them in Mourn Watch colors."

Spite letting Lucanis retreat into his coffee, purring lowly as Emmrich's face starts to flush. Waiting until Lucanis is almost done with his drink to say, "He likes your boots better, though. He would very much like to be under them." Emmrich and Lucanis having to wave off concerns of the other Veil Guard members as they both choke, Rook glancing between the two curiously. They might not be able to hear what's going on, but they've seen the signs before. They settle more comfortably to watch the display like a sporting match.

And when Spite starts complimenting Lucanis, oh, the man nearly has to excuse himself to run his head under water, he's burning up so badly. "I like how I can feel every muscle working when we're in combat together. I like seeing your blood bead on the little cuts I make for you. I love the thudding of your heart, the feeling of your adrenaline. I like the way your brows scrunch and then get soft whenever you smell coffee for the first time. I like when you eat sweet things for me."

Spite having a little tally going, one on each thigh, for every time that he makes Lucanis and Emmrich stutter or pause during the initial flirting phase. Low little murmurs of, "That's another one," and "Oh, that one got Emmrich good." Emmrich realizes what the count is for soon enough and tries to focus more on paying attention to conversation at the dinner table, but if Spite hates anything, it's to be ignored (though he does appreciate the set of the professor's jaw, and the thudding pulse of Lucanis' heart, the heat in his blood).

If Emmrich is going to ignore him, then he'll simply up the ante. If Emmrich doesn't want to listen to all the things that he and Lucanis want him to do to them, then they'll talk about their collective favorite subject: Rook. "Look at their mouth--isn't it pretty? It'd look better full of our fingers. You should let me take over, Lucanis--I'd have them begging for it faster than you could blink. Do you think they'd lay in our lap again? I liked when we did that. Oh, maybe they'll sit in it. You liked that idea, I felt it. Emmrich, what do you think? What position do you like Rook best in? We like the sight of them on top of you. We want to see it again. Don't you want to see it again?"

Lucanis and Emmrich slamming their hands on the table, the same conclusion reached in equally frantic manners. Neve asking with a teasing smile if something is the matter, or did their conversation about Dalish alchemy really bore them to tears? Emmrich and Lucanis gritting out in the same breath, "It's Spite."

"Just tell him it's not his turn. Works for us." Taash comments, though they're grinning. They can smell how worked up these two are, and was placing bets with Davrin and Harding about which one would crack first.

"Spite," Rook scolds, but it's all grins. Their eyes are shinning, leg bouncing underneath the table. "You know you can always talk to me if you want something. No need to bully poor Emmrich and Lucanis."

"Do not encourage him," Lucanis begs, knuckles going pale from where they grip the table. Emmrich is truly struggling to regain his composure, trying to assemble anything resembling a calm front. But Spite takes the opportunity to take over, forcing Lucanis' body to relax. Digging his hands into his thighs instead, feeling Lucanis' body shudder with the ache. "I was simply telling Lucanis and Emmrich how much I appreciated them." Deceptively coy, but the sharpness in his grin gives it all away. "How much we appreciate you."

"Get a room already," Taash yells, sweeping the pile of coin she earned towards her plate.

"Well, Rook? Shall we get a room?"

[catwouthats]

WIP/rough draft of the first page of The Extraordinarily Ordinary Adventures of Preston Lindsey fan comic

I’m practicing using my feather quill bc that shit makes such nice lines etc so this probably isn’t the final version.

Feather quill >>>> any other pen/inking tool imo

[itsonlydana]

Hey hey, saw ur requests were open for Thranduil and knew I needed to submit something!

Could you do a Thranduil x fem human reader where she braids her hair without knowing the significance for elves? They both have feelings for each other but neither has said anything, supper fluffy ending y’know?

Thank you in advance and have a great day!! :))

Beautiful misunderstandings | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem human!reader 👑

You simply wanted to accept an invitation to a celebration, but something about you makes the elves literally drop at your feet. Can Thranduil resolve this misunderstanding, or will he be affected as well?

tags/warnings: just lots and lots of fluff, no warnings

word count: 3,6k

an: to be honest, most of what i wrote is my own headcanons because i did not find lots about hair culture with the elves.. so please: educate me! Are there some hcs in the fandom? :)

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The forests of Greenwood greet you with open flames of torches licking up their hot tongues against the dark skies, coloring the path the horse trots along in their amber lights and the wooden smoke that fills the air. Evenly distributed along the pathway they light up just enough of Greenwood that it doesn't take away from the sight that awaits you at the end, where the trees give way to an equally decorated bridge and the foliage thins out enough for you to take in the tall arches framing the open doors of the Great Elvenking's halls.

You have already been a guest for many of Thranduil's festivities ever since he established trading relations with your small fisher town. Due to the bond that twirls around the two of you in some unfathomable and complex manner, you also know that nothing he ever does is anything but grande and imposing. 

Still, you can't help but push your lower lip in between your teeth. 

Not once have you gotten the impression of standing out more than the difference in race and status already marked as obvious factors, neither Thranduil nor his elves treated you like you felt right now: 

Completely out of your known waters.

The elvish customs were far too many for you to know them all and you always try your best to consider all and everything that you've learned in the two summers you could consider yourself an acquaintance to Thranduil. Whatever form this acquaintanceship took on is another worry, or rather, another unknown that you can't exactly express to anyone. 

It's nearly as confusing as the steps of the dance you studied in your room before you left this morning, a step forward and two back, Thranduil asking you to accompany him to his dances but never dancing with you. 

Tonight, you want to change this predicament of always ending up in the arms of another elf while the one you yearned for watches from the sidelines! You didn't work this hard for the fabric that hugs your figure in a beautiful dress for nothing and even if the fabric isn't as shiny or light as the dresses the elves wear and the stitches marked your fingertips with the evidence of the labor and long nights, you are proud of the garment. 

The wind plays in the hem as you emerge from the guarded forest and its thick and dense foliage and it winds itself around your legs after you dismount your horse. A quick kiss to his muzzle, followed by an exhale of warm, familiar breath and you hesitantly let a servant take him away, mumbling a soft "Thank you" while you stay where you are and watch until they disappear around a tree.

Nervously you start walking up to the bridge, the reckless water under it crashing against the stone walls and it goes along with the blood that pumps high and fast through your body and rushes in your ears. The atmosphere is loaded, sizzling under the nearly suffocating heat that's only bearable in the cool shadows of the palace in front of you so you don't waste another second. 

You brush off the hood of your riding coat, smoothing out some fly-away hairs that escaped the braid you carefully weaved earlier this day as you duck your head in reverence to be allowed in these sacred halls. 

Whispers catch up to you from outside, a breeze dancing through leaves.

When you lift your chin again, you find that it's not the air affecting nature but rather your presence halting nearly all the elves that gathered on the first bridge inside the caves. 

They say elves are graceful and purposeful in their movements – the way dozens of eyes are locked onto you and lips move in not-so-silent murmurs defiles that claim though.

It's nothing you haven't encountered before, the talks behind your back that came along with Thranduil's attention shining down on you like the sun – hot, engulfing you completely and rendering you breathless as well as a bit sweaty at times whenever he looks at you, and you learned how to handle it. His attention brought forth a lot of awareness of his folk to the woman who visits Thranduil just as often as he rides into your town and becomes the topic of conversations for weeks. What's a girl to do except accept that a King never comes alone?

You're used to elves watching you, most of them in respect. Thranduil's authority radiates onto you, as well as the protection that he swore would lay upon you as long as he's there to give out orders.

The first elf whose eyes you questioningly meet drops to his knees in the same instant, barely a breath of time passing by. 

A gasp leaves your throat.

Words do not follow. They remain echoing in your head, pushed back by the spectacle that spread before you like wildfire. Too fast, too much.

Within seconds of you entering, the buzz of lowered voices dies down as elf after elf either bows or completely meets the ground they are standing on. The spectacle is confusing and throws you completely off; this reaction is nowhere near what you've experienced before and you do the first thing that comes to mind to handle this totally unsuspected confrontation of elves bowing to you, a human from no known family and nothing to your name other than the weight it carries on Thranduil's tongue.

The only thing you manage to stammer is: "Good evening," and a high-pitched, "Thank you?" before you take your legs into your hand and dash over the bridge. 

Thoughts as unstoppable as you run through your mind while you navigate the curving halls of the underground palace, the stonewalls not cool enough to diminish the heat that sits low in your neck, growing the longer you think about all that has happened between Thranduil and you and how it's not much more than nothing but a close alliance of human and elf. 

One that you hope would take on a different turn, because some of the actions by Thranduil could be considered friendlier than one would treat an ally or friend. You think back to all the gifts you have received, the white gems for example that, barely bigger than your nails but woven into the upper part of your braid, reflect the light and throw silver dots against the walls that lead you to the point Thranduil had asked you to meet him in one of his many letters. 

The route involves more encounters with more elves, some bow more subtly, their hands on their chest in a greeting that you do know, and some others, mostly those who've already fallen in barrels of wine and are less sophisticated in their movements in their drunken state who repeat the word "bereth" as if it's a prayer in a language that's far beyond you to make out right now. 

At the end of the hallway, you make out the back of a familiar blonde and even from afar you notice the resemblance that Thranduil's silver circlet has to the silver ribbon you have woven into your hair in a similar way and height how his circlet would look placed on your head. 

Is this what brought such uproar to the elves? Have you accidentally copied their king? 

"Thranduil!" you call out, his name lacking any title though not out of disrespect. You have the highest respect for the King of the Elves and slip a "Your Majesty" rather often into conversations because you know how much he favors his name from your tongue and teasing him like that brings a joy to you that you can't explain anyway else then: 

Hearing him laugh and smile or roll his eyes at your antics fuels the love you harbor for him.

Now is not the time for teasing chit-chat, you are desperate to find out if you have actually misstepped by presenting his gifts like this at a festival that's solely about him.

He turns at the sound of your voice and, oh lord, even his eyes widen as soon as they land on you and you want to perish rather than step any closer but the hurry in your legs and the nervousness in your stomach makes it impossible to do anything else but run to the one soul in this world that brings you comfort. 

You arrive at a full stop, and your heels would have stirred up dust if you were a mare. 

Now it's not only Thranduil's eyes that seem to have developed an inability to stray farther than your head; his mouth falls open as well and he makes no effort to close it again. The fact that this behavior is completely ungracious and ill-mannered has apparently not dawned on him yet. The longer you spend helplessly looking up at him, you swear you can see most of his thoughts visibly inching away behind that baffled expression.

At first, there's nothing.

Then some clarity returns into the blue eyes you love so much and Thranduil exhales a quiet: "Berio nin." 

Now, that's Sindarin you've heard before – that the context he has said these words were moments when he playfully begged the Valar to aid him with you tormented him in some way throws you off your balance even more and you take a step back. 

"I did not–" you start and raise a hand to wave it at all of you, "This, I had no idea. Did I offend you? Or the elves?" 

"Offend?" Thranduil asks bewildered.

"Well, the way they reacted. I wasn't sure," you laugh distraught. Thranduil's eyebrows instantly furrow, and you're quick to follow up: "Not in a bad way!" you explain and he loosens up, "They, um, they bowed? And some may have fallen to the ground?"

"Ah," he chuckles and his reaction calms you a bit. He could've been screaming or throwing you out. If he's laughing this can't be that big of a serious misstep. Thranduil looks at you through lowered lashes and runs his tongue over his teeth, a smile threatening to break through the serious expression he tries to obtain. "I believe a conversation and education is in order. If you would follow me to have this conversation somewhere else," he says and holds out his arm for you to grab.

He leads you around a corner and another one, walking swiftly yet seemingly in no hurry until Thranduil opens a door and quickly pulls you inside the room. 

Candles littered all around light up what you immediately understand to be his private chambers, the many robes you recognize, the colorful falcons with shimmering scented oils and shells full of jewelry, pearls, gems, and rings in gold and silver. There, right where Thranduil stops in front of you to block out your view, you take a peek at a giant bed behind flowy white curtains. 

You blush.

Even more so when you see Thranduil blush as well. His eyes return to your hair again, just like he had on the short walk to these chambers; tilting his head down to you as if some magical force bound him to staring at you in a manner he hadn't done before.

"You are my guest so I see it to be my responsibility to clear up what may have been a–" he pauses and his eyelashes flutter as he thinks of a fitting word, "a misapprehension. Not that you could have possibly known the outcome of what you doubtlessly suspected to be a kind gesture." 

You nervously cross your arms behind your back, intertwining your fingers so you do not meddle or ruffle the carefully layered fabrics of your dress. "I solemnly swear I was not up for any mockery."

His eyes widen again. "I would not have accused you of such!"

You tilt your head in confusion and bite down on your lip, ungraceful as well and a habit you should definitely quit, especially in the company of a King.

"What was it that startled the elves?" You think back to the way Thranduil had reacted, the wide-blown eyes, the pink lips formed to a delicate 'o' – "As well as you, Thranduil. You couldn't even get a word out except for a prayer." You let out a single laugh to cover up your embarrassment. 

The elf lifts his chin higher as if that could prevent you from noticing the blush deepening, growing much more red than just a delicate pink that stands out from his ivory skin but not much that it couldn't be interpreted as a light intoxication of either wine or fresh air. 

"I do not remember that," he lies with a dismissive voice. "Anyway, let me clarify the current dilemma instead of wasting time discussing the past." 

"Definitely not that far back that you could count it as 'the past' but sure," you sigh and decide to ignore the glare he sends you as you confront his very unsubtle passive- aggressive change of topic from him to you. Thranduil had centuries of building up a thickheadedness to lead the Woodland Realm and you had mere months on your hands in trying to push a way through it.

"Well, the behavior my folk portrayed was simply said the respect they pay for any honorable and eminent," Thranduil says, not batting an eye over the unbelievable words that come out of his mouth.

"What?" Your voice is nothing but a high squeal, "Why would they do that? They know I'm just a human!"

Thranduil scoffs, "Just a human, she says. Do not dismiss yourself in any way and most definitely not as just a human. Humans are such fascinating creatures, all those feelings compressed into an ephemeral life and bodies that endure pain and even if you waste away to dust you try to mark down your existence into every stone that you touch." Before you can burst into tears at his rather sentimental and emotional view of your people, he continues in a tone more factual: "To answer your question– you conveyed that I was courting you and they simply knew there would be grave consequences if they did not respect my intended." 

All the air left your body in a singular exhale, thus leaving you to grasp at the few thoughts that stayed through the cut-off of oxygen. Not that they were any good.

Courting you? Being his intended? 

You can only stare at him aghast. 

"But– courting? You weren't, we weren't– there was no courting!" you stammer.

The world is reeling. 

Black spots dance in the corner of your sight.

It takes all your focus to stand still and not sway back and forth, giving in to the abrupt slide downward reality has suddenly become. 

"No," Thranduil says.

A part of you withers at the finality of the statement because of course, he, Great Elvenking Thranduil, would never be caught courting a human. The absurdity of it must be why he was laughing earlier, praying to the Valar to become a witness of what must be your greatest humiliation.

"No, there was. I was simply waiting for your realization as well as acceptance to officially proclaim it."

Now it's your mouth that falls open without any strength left to prevent it.

Thranduil swallows, hard, his jaw set tightly and his eyes fixating on you. "All that I did, and thought to do, was in prospect of taking you as my betrothed," he states; the smallest of quivers underlining the massive impact this admission causes to him. He lifts one hand to his chest, pressing his knuckles against the fabric where underneath his heart lays. "I ache to love, treasure, and worship you. Every second of all the days I may have the pleasure of your company in my life or it shall be colorless from now on."

His eyes glitter, the endless blues of the sky, affection burning in them like the sun, broadening your horizon of what you believed love to be and there is no doubt in your mind that Thranduil's words are nothing but the truth. Confounding as that truth should be, it is that – certainty.

A smile breaks on your face, watery and wet as tears of pure happiness spill onto your cheeks and even if your heart has been on the tip of your tongue at every word you have ever said to him and in every glance that you have ever directed in his way, the need to validate his revelation.

You step carefully step closer and the hem of your dress brushes against his gowns as you close the bit of distance. Thranduil watches cautiously, leaving his hand against his heart, and only tips his chin down to follow you until you step into his personal space. The whole regal and stoic image he portrays even after confessing his love passionately mere seconds ago breaks as you feel his wavering breath and you swear you can hear the loud pounding of his battered-yet-strong heart. 

"Is it my hair?" you ask quietly and catch him off-guard. 

Thranduil smiles and his chest heaves in a deep inhale of air. "Yes," he laughs in an exhale, "Do you wish to know how you managed to completely dismantle me? Rob me of all powers?" 

You nod once and one hand of his comes to rest on your shoulder from where he leads you to a silver basin standing in a corner decorated with more oils and vines climbing the stone walls.

The sight that the clear water inside it shows you, Thranduil standing behind you, more than slightly taller, brings a warmness to your cheeks. Even if the prospect of his image finding a constant in your life from now on is undeniable, you're not sure if you will ever get satiated by it. 

Thranduil slowly reaches the elaborate braid you are so proud of despite the public tumult it had caused. "There are many things sacred to my folk and hair –" he starts and lets his fingers travel the length of free-falling hair, "holds the memories of our history, our connection to the Eldar and kemen – the earth. We do not cut it but rather let it grow to pay our respects to Eru for his creation, the natural and untouched world, flows in us all. It bears the marks of our ancestry though many cultures convey their personal history in many different ways." 

You listen intently, trying not to get distracted by Thranduil's hands smoothing your hair and the deep rumble of his voice wrapping around his language that pulls you into a trance. 

"Among us Sindar, we wave our customs into the very strands of this sacred hair. Our warriors, for instance, adorn themselves with tightly woven braids, serving not only as protection in battle but as a testament to their strength and unwavering discipline."

"The intricate and jeweled braids you wear," Thranduil's fingers glide along the white gems, thus nudging them against your head, "they speak volumes of noble heritage and high standing. Even if you do not have royal blood in your family, a braid like this will be more convincing to the contrary."

You blush as you realize how you unknowingly changed your entire status.

"By adorning your hair with the jewels I bestowed upon you, you declare to all my claim upon you," Thranduil chuckles and meets your eyes in the water, "Braids are the essence of our heritage, denoting rank and occupation, and they speak volumes in courtship."

"Oh," you say, "I knew Elves court through gifts. Would I have known this…"

Thranduil shakes his head, smiling widely as he continues playing with your hair, "You say that but not once have you realized all that I have given to you were of my pursuit."

"Well, I– this wasn't… I thought you were being nice," you sputter and grow even redder in the face.

"Unbelievably rude and ungracious to consider me ni–" he interrupts himself and shivers, "No I will not speak in such obscene language." Thranduil raises an eyebrow before returning his attention to the lesson in courting, "Through these intricate weavings, we convey our intentions and the profound depth of our bonds. While dalliances are not uncommon, my folk only marry once in their life."

"Love is eternal and unwavering, and each twist in our braids declares the union of our souls. By weaving your hopes and pleas for reciprocation into your hair, you speak a silent yet powerful language. The braid you chose, resembling my crown and adorned with my jewels and a silver ribbon akin to my own hair, could not have delivered a clearer message."

"So I basically lied to your elves," you pull a face in shame, "Great."

"You may call it a lie," Thranduil says slowly and his hands travel to rest on your shoulders. You lean into the gentle pull and let him turn you around so that you are face-to-face again. There is a dedication in his eyes, a look of hunger and yearning, "Or," his voice sounds even deeper and reverberates through your entire body, zipping up your spine that you automatically straighten, "You allow me to present our courtship openly if a deeper connection is what you desire to form between us."

Your heart thumps in your chest, double the tempo that one would call normal and it only speeds up when Thranduil cups your face in his hand and his fingertips graze the silver ribbon that sits tightly against your head.

"Allow me," he repeats, quieter. 

"Your word and the world will know you are mine," he pleads.

You waste not a second to ponder over what your heart already decided. "I allow it."

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

[jarofstyles]

Sea View

Hello my lovely babies. Here is a sugar baby!H one shot. 

I hope you enjoy them. 

Check out our Patreon for early access and 100+ exclusive writings!

WC- 3.7k

Warnings- public sex/exhibitionism, unprotected sex, slight degrading but also praise kink, soft!dom H

---

The Italian sun was turning his skin golden. He knew that it was definitely time for a sunscreen application again, but the beams of warmth felt too damn good on his body to be assed to get up.

Besides- he had Y/N’s leg hitched over his as she napped in the familiar sunbeams he was soaking in.

After a particularly stressful week, Y/N had had enough. She chartered a yacht, called her assistant to defer her calls and woke Harry up from his meditation nap to pack his bags. They were on the private plane before he even properly woke up, but he couldn’t complain.

The water was impossibly blue, the weather was perfect and their boat was heavenly. He’d never been on a vacation quite like this. He’s actually been to Italy for a bit when he did an exchange program, but he hadn’t been able to just relax. He’d spent his time exploring and studying when he was here, picking up the language, learning the people, his surroundings. There wasn’t time to just… be

A week back in Italy with the best food, a private boat and villa and the most beautiful woman he had ever met, all expenses paid? He would be a fool to turn that down. All he needed to do was help her unwind. That meant hiding her work phone from her, massaging her shoulders, letting her sleep on him like she was now, and giving her every bit of affection and sex that she could possibly want.

‘You work so hard, darling. Deserve a break. I’ll take care of you.’ Was what he had told her when they boarded the boat, kissing her lips as he felt her hands grip his shorts. They had been particularly slutty this trip, something he really liked. His new brand of shorts were cut closer on the thigh, in a variety of colors. Y/N had appreciated them greatly.

It was after the first round of sex that day that Y/N requested they spend some time up on the deck. The warmth was welcome to her, he could tell. It was his job to relax her, to keep her sane, and he liked to think he did a pretty good job of it- both with his words and his cock. This time, though, he could tell she had been particularly drained from work and he made it his mission to keep her as relaxed as possible. Their drinks sat on the ledge behind them, condensation sweating the glasses. Y/N’s book was abandoned with a bookmark haphazardly placed in it, her cheek pressed against his bicep.

The concept of a midday nap for her was unheard of. Harry had been with her for a while now, and in his time knowing her he had never experienced it. That’s how he knew she was really exhausted. Fingers stroked the hair from her face with his opposite hand, simply observing her as she slept. A soft vulnerability was painted on her features as her guard was completely down. In her sleep, Harry could see just how sweet she could look. In everyday life, she was a very powerful and merciless businesswoman. She was wealthy beyond his comprehension and she had gotten to that point because she took no prisoners. She had to, in order to get what she wanted. He’d seen firsthand her cold demeanor and her stoic, practiced words when she was at work and they’d be interrupted.

No one besides Harry had ever seen the woman beg for anything. No one had seen tears drip down her face when she was overstimulated, no one had seen how mushy she got after an entire night of hot sex where he took care of her. Despite the fact that they switched around who was in charge and he very much loved being a good boy for her, Harry liked seeing her soften up for him. Being exposed to a side of one of the country’s most powerful people that no one else had gotten the chance to see? It made him feel powerful all in himself.

When their arrangement had started, she had taken the reigns for the most part. She’d needed to get comfortable with him, which had taken some time. The first night he had taken over control had been a bit of a power struggle, but she took to it well after getting a real taste of what Harry could do.

Being able to comfort her, even in moments like this, made him smile.

“I can feel you staring.” Y/N voice slurred against the skin of his arm, rubbing her nose against it as she shifted to tuck her face into his neck. “Rude.”

Harry’s heart warmed with the rays of the sun, turning slightly so he was facing her before gathering up her sleepy form in his arms. “How could I not stare? When the lioness is asleep, it’s the best time to observe the beauty.” Lips pressed against her warm forehead, letting her leg tighten around his waist. Looking down, he could see some of the bruises he had left on her silky skin. Fingerprints on her thighs, a few on her hips. A sense of satisfaction went through him as he felt her lips give a chaste peck to his throat, exhaling heavily. He had done this. He got to experience this woman fully.

“Lioness? I’d say Tigress, if anything.” Her sleepy laugh made him smile. “How long was I out?” Stretching her body out, she shook for a second before curling back up against his side. It did things to his heart that he didn’t want to talk about.

“An hour.” His fingers returned to her waist, rhythmically dragging up and down the curve of it. “Passed right out. You’re exhausted, love.” It was a bit concerning. Y/N handled pressure very well, stress even better since Harry had entered her life- but he could see some cracks forming before they’d left. “M’glad you took us here. You needed a break. I worry about you.” He spoke against her hair, knowing she didn’t like it when he worried.

“I’m okay.” Her voice was soft. “I… I remembered what you’d said about feeling a breaking point coming and doing something about it before you reach it. I was there.” Opening up wasn’t easy for her in the slightest, but Harry had been her confidant for a bit now. He never judged her, always stressed the importance of mental health along with her physical. “I just wanted to go somewhere we could just relax. It’s still hard for me.”

That much, Harry knew all too fucking well. Y/N was always wound up tight. She was coiled like a snake for most of her day. Being a woman in her position, unfortunately she had to be. She had to work twice as hard and be twice as defensive because men were awful and believed they deserved her position, her success more simply because they were men. It was sick and wrong but Harry understood why she had to feel on the guard all the time.

“I know it is.” The reply was soft. “But m’teaching you, aren’t I?” He was a very relaxed person now that he didn’t have to work at the bar. He was able to work on his music, do his yoga, bake his treats, and focus on this fucking gorgeous woman’s pleasure. For some, it wouldn’t be fulfilling. For Harry? It was a dream come true. He loved teaching her how to relax.

“You’re doing a good job.” Y/N chuckled, pulling her face from the refuge of his neck. “Got a pretty boy with equally as pretty words to help me with that.” Her own fingers came up to stroke the facial hair sprouting on his face. She was a very big fan of it, he was finding out. He hadn’t shaved in a few days and she seemed mesmerized.

“Just pretty?” He smiled, feeling her finger pop into his dimple. “I’d prefer… beautiful. Gorgeous. Ruggedly handsome, even. Sexy is acceptable too.” The quips were met with a laugh from the woman, face tilting up and catching his lips.

Harry was pleasantly surprised. Y/N was shy with her kissing at times. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it- she reacted with her whole body when he kissed her- but she didn’t initiate it too much. The opportunity was not going to be wasted. His mouth responded immediately, a happy hum leaving his throat. Fingers gripped her thigh and pulled her tighter against him as she shyly brushed his tongue against hers. Impressive. She was making a lot of the first moves, and he was ecstatic about it.

She tasted like orange juice, the mimosa’s from breakfast back on her tongue. Harry was taking in every bit of it, one hand curled around the back of her neck while the other kept her thigh against his hip, languid greed encompassing the kiss as he took a bit of the control away from her. There was that buzzing in his stomach, cock thickened as her body heat outshined the sun. In the middle of the boat, he didn’t have a care in the world other than keeping her satisfied.

“Mmm.. S’sweet.” He mumbled against her lips, going back in for more. “Open that pretty mouth f’me. Don’t be shy. I want everything from you.” He was going to milk this for everything he could. Her fingers slid into his hair, the manicured nails gently grazing his scalp and making him groan loudly. Chills flushed on his skin as he pulled her closer, cock pulsing in the shorts as he felt her arch into him. She knew what that did to him, the minx.

His tongue found hers before he sucked on it lightly, fingers diggling into her thigh as he pulled back just a bit. He felt her fingers tug on his hair again, trying to pull his mouth back to her own. It was refreshing to feel her need for him. “You’re starting something, darling.” He warned slowly. “M’not going to stop it if you continue.”

“Don’t.” Was her reply, pushing herself further against him. “We can do anything.”

Harry was surprised by her response. They definitely weren’t fully alone, but no one would come out on to the deck if they weren’t requested. Y/N had asked for privacy beforehand. The crew of the large boat stayed below deck… And honestly? Harry didn’t give a fuck if someone from another boat saw them. He was going to take this opportunity to pleasure his woman.

Rolling them over, he heard her squeak as he hovered on top of her. Eyes opened, the lusty haze making her grin as his body was backlit from the sun. He looked like her own personal angel. Swollen pink mouth and scruffy face, he was sent directly from wherever wet dreams originated from to be the one that took care of her.

“Filthy girl.” He whispered. “S’that what you want? Do you want me to do whatever I want to you?” He leaned his nose against her nose, brushing the skin as she nodded.

“Yes.” The word was breathy, unlike her normal cadence.

Harry grinned that filthy grin that made Y/N’s cunt clench around nothing, the promise of more in his eyes making her blink up at him. She had worked so hard, kept it together so well.. All she wanted to do was fall apart under him. Be dirty, take a risk for once in her controlled life. They’d fucked around many places, but she could see other boats not too far away. She knew it was risky.

“Oh, sweet fucking girl. You’ll let me tug this top off?” He questioned, tugging the cups of her bathing suit down slowly to give her a chance to say no. She didn’t. He pulled the fabric over her pebbled nipples, grunting in his throat as he took a look at her beautiful tits on display for him. “Hm.. Beautiful girl. That’s what you are.” Dipping down her body, he showed no hesitation taking one of her nipples into his mouth.

Sucking on the bud, he heard her gasp and fingers grip his hair as he methodically pulled the sensitive nipple into his mouth, brushing his tongue against it. So warm, her skin smelled like her body wash and salt from the ocean as he lathed his tongue over it again. Teeth brushed it ever so slightly as he pulled back, eliciting a gasp from her before he switched breasts with a satisfied groan.

Yes. This is what his girl needed. His sweet, overworked, filthy minded girl. His cock was dripping into his shorts, the risk of the situation and her need for him arousing him more than he had been in a long time.

“More.” She whimpered. The one word was enough to get him to pause, looking at her with his blown out eyes. Mournfully releasing her nipple again, his wet lips opened to speak to her.

“More? Are you asking for me to fuck you, pretty baby?” His low tone made her clit throb, nodding frantically as she felt him press his fingers against her covered cunt. The bathing suit did little to hide her arousal. He could feel her heat, feel the slickness of her, and he knew he needed to take her. Now. “Yeah? Y’want me to tug this to the side and slip right in?” He spoke against her lips, pressing a kiss there before moving to her jaw. “Want my cock tucked up inside you, nice n’snug?”

Fingers tugged the fabric to the side, leaving her slick cunt exposed to the ocean air. To him. She shuddered under him as she peeled her eyes open, watching in anticipation as his hand went for his shorts between them. Slipping them down just enough to expose himself, he grit his teeth. “Hm?” His voice prodded her. He was covering her body, sure, but it would be obvious what they’d be doing.

Her body jolted when he tapped the ruddy tip of his leaking cock against her cunt, nestling it between her slit while he got himself wet.

“Yes.” She had been reduced to a beg. Y/N was usually much more talkative, much more of a tease, but she couldn’t be right now. This was exactly what the woman wanted. She wanted Harry to take over and make her forget all of her troubles. “Please. Just do it.”

Harry didn’t need much convincing.

She was still a bit sensitive from their sex when they’d woken up, a broken whimper leaving her throat as she felt the tip press into her. It was embarrassing how wet she was just from this. The man had made it near impossible to not be affected by his presence and she was too tired to pretend she wasn’t.

Harry’s cock was thick and long and the perfect size to fuck her dumb. To make her mind shut up about anything other than how good it felt. After long days in the office, it’s exactly what she’s needed. It was no different now, eyes falling shut as her head rolled back, legs closifn around his hips to urge him deeper. There was no need to fake that she wasn’t greedy.

“Fuck.” Harry grunted, feeling himself bury into her. “You needed it again. My poor girl. Needed me to take care of you.” He pressed his mouth against hers again before slowly moving, grinding inside of her as her fingers tugged the hair at the nape of his neck. It was a tight, wet paradise being locked inside of her. Shallow thrusts, feeling her clench up around him, he slipped a hand under her head to hold the back of her neck.

“Needed me so bad that you’re taking my cock right in front of everyone. What a filthy, nasty girl you are. So desperate for my prick to be buried in that sweet little pussy all over again that… you don’t even care if you’re caught.” He was working her up. Dirty talk got to her. Stimulated her in a way that he knew she wouldn’t admit to loving when she wasn’t hanging off his cock, but when she was?

She ate it up. Every crumb.

Legs stayed tight around him as he moved slowly, so fucking deep that she could cry. This was what she needed. Harry was right. She was desperate and dirty and she didn’t care if people were even right next to them, she had wanted him to be inside of her more than anything. This was her escape.

“No, my dirty girl just wants to soak me again. You want people to see how wet you get around me? How filthy and sticky you leave my cock every time I pull out? It goes right down to my thighs, you know.” His velvety voice was wrapped around her head. “You’re not happy unless m’balls deep inside of you. Greedy thing.” He crooned, feeling a bit more of her slick coating his cock. Fuck, he was obsessed. “ But this is a newer development. You’ve always like the idea of someone seeing but… they definitely can right now.”

It got to him, too. His dick was swallowed in her sweet relief, but he knew he wouldn’t last too long. Despite the slow thrusts, they were deep and a bit rough, moving her slightly when he bottomed out. Each thrust was rewarded with a squeak, a moan, a whimper. He was addicted to hear what noise he got next.

“They can see it, baby. If they turn their heads, if they look over, they can see you being fucked. Clinging to me, keeping me close. There’s no way they will be able to mistake it.” Despite the fact he eas covering her and his shorts weren’t fully down, the movements made it obvious. Harry’s always been into adventurous sex, always been into exhibitionism, but it was different here. It sent a heady zing right to his cock. Being a show off, an attention whore, he was in his prime.

“Harry…” she whispered, head tilting back as he bit down on the lobe of her ear. “I can’t. M’gonna cum if you t-talk like that.” She was going to regardless. The sweet press into her spot, his spot really, was perfect. There had been worry that maybe he wouldn’t be able to get her off at the beginning of when they met- no man had properly done it before- but he had exceeded all expectations. He was hers. She was keeping this man as long as she possibly could. He was perfection. Indulging in her like this was just one of the many reasons.

“You’d cum if I was silent. Your cunt loves my cock. Doesn’t she? Loves to be fucked in any way. On your knees, your stomach, riding me… but especially when people can see it.” He licked over her neck, the filth of it making her nails dig into the back of his neck. The stab of pain made him moan, moving a bit harder. It wasn’t fast, wasn’t hurried in the slightest. It was lazy and hot and so goddamn good.

“Yes. I love it. I-I want them to see.” She admitted in a slightly slurred voice, the pleasure already building up with his thrusts. Like sparks over her body. “Want them to watch. I’m gonna-“ she couldn’t finish the word, one of the thrusts stealing her breath.

“I know you want that, my filthy slut. Such a little whore for me.” He laughed, breathy and hot as he covered her lips back with his own. He was about to cum. He could feel her begin to quiver around him. “Going to soak my cock and let them see? So fucking dirty. Letting me fuck you out on this deck, not a care about anything other than getting filled. S’gonna make me cum too.” He looked at her with hazy eyes. The sweat on her forehead, the stickiness of their skin under the hot Italian sun.

All of this was erotic.

“Let go for me, angel.” He decided to pull out the language he knew she loved, nestled against her lips. “Voglio sentirti Bella ragazza. sempre così perfetto. Lascia che mi prenda cura di te, sempre.”

Y/N couldn’t stop it. The rasp of his voice, the Italian falling off his tongue, she came with an intensity she didn’t expect. Mouth falling open as he stole her breath, she finally expelled a moan as she came all over him. Slicked up, creamy and hot, she pulled him in and tried to push him away as the orgasm was worked through.

Harry wasn’t far behind, gritting his teeth as he cursed. His balls tight, he released the heavy load into her cunt, stuttered movement of his hips making him grunt with each finishing stroke. He painted her walls white, pushing it in deep as he groaned against her mouth. Breathing each other in, the movement stopped.

Y/N was full in every sense of the word, legs loosening but staying wrapped around him as her body loosened all its limbs. It was exactly the thing she had needed.

“You okay?” He asked softly, nudging his nose back against hers before pressing chaste kisses to the corners of her lips and the heated cheeks. “Did so good. Fucking perfect, as usual.” His praises made her lips quirk in a smile, returning a chaste peck before falling back to her blissed out features.

“Mhm. Perfect, actually.” Her response was a giggle, the relaxation back on her face. “But I’d like you to stay inside me for a bit.”

Harry rose a brow, trying to keep his softening erection at bay. “Will you behave? I need the nap now.” He needed a bit of time before going again- though keeping himself warm on her cock was a very nice addition to the day.

“Probably not. But I’ll let you sleep for a bit on my chest before I bother you for some more.” She replied, carding her fingers through his slightly sweat damp hair. His forehead fell against her shoulder, shaking in a laugh as he kissed the skin.

“Anything for you.”

[senlinyu]

Hiya— forgive me, this is a big one!

Something I really appreciate about your work on both Manacled and LTDI is your approach to the wizarding world’s oppressive systems. I recently read a bit about how the caste system in India parallels to Jewish and African American oppression (there’s a great film on this too) and it made me go back and re-read Manacled just to look at it from this perspective.

I’m not sure how this fandom usually talks about wizarding world oppression since I don’t really engage, so I apologize if this is rehashing old metas haha. I mostly only see the direct parallels to “wizard nazis,” but I like that your work is more nuanced and detailed. I think it’s fascinating how the blood purity systems of oppression basically operate as a form of caste.

And in HP canon, the statue of secrecy is also very interesting, but you made it so much more engaging. Came for the enemies to lovers smut drama, stayed for the intellectual commentary haha!

I really like what you did in LTDI by exploring deeper how oppression looks like in a magical world, and the history behind the witch trials and dark magic. I *loved* the way dark magic was forbidden for muggle-borns, and the sickening and so realistic rationale that pure-bloods are taught about it.

And HOLY SHIT!—— You do such a good job at showcasing every aspect of this on LTDI through Hogwarts, Dumstrang, the archives, bullies, the press, and especially our two leads! Your depiction of the casual violence of oppression with Hermione and her journey learning about muggle-borns is devastating. and Draco’s absolute misery through the very oppressive system that’s supposed to put him on top is so true and also so brilliantly written. And it doesn’t hit me over the head with a shovel either, it’s just…human. It’s well done!! It reminds me why I like Dramione, besides the tension and the subtext, there’s so much richness that canon simply doesn’t have.

Sorry for the ramble! What I’m getting to is that when it comes to positive societal values (education, riches, peace, access to water and resources) and negative ones (lack of education, poverty, lack of resources, vulnerability to violence, incarceration,) the oppressor class is always going to rationalize that they earned it, and the subjugated second class deserves their lot. Here in America, the rationale was that people of color deserved subjugation because they were dirtier, meaner, stupider than their white counterparts; and these beliefs were upheld by religion, politics and incorrect science. But all of these are rationalizations and fabrications, because there is obviously nothing inherently superior about race (or in the case for white Jews— and here in HP— caste.) I think you translate that so beautifully to pure-bloods; but I was wondering how this works in relation to muggleborns.

On my reread of Let the Dark, I saw that muggle borns that didn’t manifest into Obscurus and went on to become wizards almost always grew into mastering black magic when they have access into the dark arts, while native-born wizards did not. The records of the fic also showed that black magic was corruptive to pure-bloods who tried it, and very hard to achieve at all even when put in similar nurture conditions when growing up.

So I guess this is all a really long-winded way of asking haha—— is Hermione’s muggle-born proficiency in black magic derived from nurturing or nature? and does that mean it’s vice versa for half/pure-bloods? Sorry I know you had a passage on exactly this but I just didn’t really know what you meant.

Anyway, these two are soooo fricking stupid horny for each other, I love the way you write them. Kudos ++ and thanks for all the work.

Can’t wait to see what’s next for LTDI ! ! ! !

Hi, thank you for the long ask. Am I correct in guessing that you saw the movie Caste? It's based on Isabel Wilkerson's book by the same name, which is one of the books that I read that was partially responsible for my inspiration for LTDI. A few years ago now, I was on a sort of journey reading about historical systemic oppression, but I didn't want to be limited to only American oppression and discrimination. I don't feel comfortable drawing absolutely direct parallels from real world in literature just because I feel like a lot of the times such attempts can perpetuate the very things they're trying to deconstruct (looking at you Zootopia), but the story is influenced by various reading I've done on discrimination and oppression throughout various colonial and class heavy cultures.

So as a result, I really didn't want to actually create a 'rational reason' for muggle-born oppression that had a legitimate basis, I wanted it to be a nurture based distinction. Yes muggle-borns have a unique ability that results from the trauma of their upbringing altering how their magic manifests, but that's not because they're actually naturally different, and in fact there's a very simple solution to preventing Black Magic by pre-emptively reaching out to muggleborns and preventing that formative trauma from occurring, but that would necessitate wizarding culture giving up their false sense of superiority and entitlement, and so they won't, and they let Muggle-born children and their families die where they don't have to see it.

[peakdeer]

Hourglass wives/duo

(depending on if it's a romantic or platonic relationship)

The potential relationship dynamic between Lauren the Sand Witch who only started magic like yesterday, and Cleo the Time Witch who has been learning magic for potentially lifetimes using her time powers.

Cleo had been a witch for centuries. She’d practiced magic for her whole life, and all of her unlife. She knew her way around magic, even learning the difficult hex magic. She honed her abilities until she truly was powerful, until she truly was the Time Witch. She’d long lost track of how long she’d lived for.

Lauren had been a witch for a day.

Two, actually, by now. She has no idea how to use magic. She runs around without any wand to her name, not even comprehending how to use one. The one spell she does have, she often casts wrong or positions incorrectly. As a highly talented witch who works in hex magic, the idea horrifies Cleo.

As a fellow witch, as Cleo, she feels bad.

Not bad enough to lavish hundreds of gifts upon the Sand Witch, but enough to talk to her, enough to offer her some advice.

Cleo swooped down in front of the Sand Witch’s sand castle. Or, at least, that was what it looked like. It was very cute, she had to admit. She had to give Lauren credit—at least she had a house. Cleo’d been too busy here to build a proper house, and her old one was infested with glow lichen and rotting.

“Hello. You’re the Sand Witch, right? The new one?” Cleo asked, landing next to the witch in question. She wore a cute dress, kind of like the ones maidens wore in the old villages. Cleo had seen some of them in one of the timelines, but she couldn’t quite remember which one. The Sand Witch actually looked quite interesting, her hair half a dirty blond and the other half a purple—wait.

Cleo had to stop herself from laughing. The Sand Witch looked like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Even the laces in the cuts of her sleeves were colored with the same tan and purple.

“Oh, hello! Hello, yes, that’s me. I… I’m new, yeah. I became a witch just… yesterday I think?” The witch startled, turning to look at Cleo.

“Mhm. How’ve you been settling in?” Cleo inquired, glancing around Lauren’s setup. Besides the house, there didn’t seem to be much there except sand and the occasional dry bush.

“Uh… pretty well, I think! I built a second story onto my house and met some of the other witches! I just, uh. Need to get some more spells and things. I started a farm at least!” Lauren explained, waving towards her farm almost offhandedly. The farm was a sad sight, stalks not quite golden but wilting nonetheless, the heads of grain trailing in the dirt. There wasn’t even a spot of water to help the fields, and it looked as if the farm had been made simply by removing the sand and shoveling dirt in. It was a miracle the crops had even sprouted, especially having grown this much.

“That’s lovely. Your house is very cute, love it.” Cleo responded anyway, pointedly looking at the adorable house instead of the lifeless farm.

“Thank you! I appreciate it! I haven’t had many people come to my house yet, just… just you, actually. No one’s seen my house. I’d invite you in, but you don’t want to see the interior. Trust me.” Lauren chattered, looking almost disappointed for a moment before she forced a smile on her face.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad inside. Do you have a waystone?” Cleo changed the subject quickly, hoping for something safer to talk about. She wasn’t a big fan of dealing with emotions. They were quite inconvenient.

“Oh yeah! I picked one of those up! I’ve kind of been using it as a door stopper.” Lauren looked over at her dented door and winced. “But then I moved it. For obvious reasons.”

Cleo couldn’t suppress a laugh at that. “It looks like a bear mauled your door! How hard do you swing that open??” It indeed looked like someone had wrecked her door—it was covered in scratches in addition to the deep gouges it already had.

“Listen! I’ve got a lot of energy! It just happens sometimes! At least I only hit the wall with it once.” Lauren defended herself. She seemed to realize it was a losing battle, though, huffing and looking away.

“The wall? Lauren, you’d have to tear the door off its hinges to do that!” Cleo’s laughter only intensified at that, and she found herself glad she’d decided to stop by. She hadn’t laughed this hard in a long time.

“…Yeah. I’ve had to replace a few doors. For totally different reasons! It had, uh… nothing to do with that.” Lauren protested, trying in vain to preserve what remained of her dignity. Cleo almost felt bad, but Lauren had done this to herself.

“Sure it didn’t,” Cleo teased with a chuckle. Her eyes caught again on Lauren’s small farm, and she winced. It looked so… unhealthy there, growing on the sand-laced dirt without even water to help it grow.

Lauren didn’t seem to notice, blabbering on. Something about a pelican? Cleo wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Here, let me just…” She pulled out her Farmer’s Staff, stepping towards the farm and focusing her powers. The crops began straightening up and growing a second later, the dry and wilting stalks shooting up and filling with life.

Lauren had stopped talking by the time Cleo looked up, her jaw dropped and surprise evident on her face. She seemed to be speechless for a moment, eyes darting from her crop field to Cleo.

“You’re the Nature Witch?” Lauren guessed. “No, actually, you don’t fit the vibe. Uh… not the Storm Witch, Necromancy or Illusionary maybe? Though the crops weren’t really dead, and they feel real…” Lauren poked the stalks suspiciously, as if suddenly doubting them.

“Oh! You’re the Time Witch?” Lauren’s head shot up in realization, her eyes widening.

“Correct,” Cleo agreed with a grin.

Perhaps the Sand Witch was smarter than she thought.

“Woah! That’s so cool! You control Time?” Lauren gasped, eyes darting around Cleo as if she’d see an example if she just looked hard enough.

“Yeah, I do. It’s fun.” Cleo agreed nonchalantly, watching with glee as Lauren’s face filled with awe.

“That’s awesome. I wish I had that power! All I have is… sand. And sometimes it doesn’t work.” Lauren admitted, looking rather bashful. From what Cleo had heard about her, she couldn’t really offer encouragement.

“I’m sure you’ll get better at it. I can help teach you?” Cleo offered without thinking. She hadn’t come here to babysit a witch—but this was different. This was helping a friend. She could at the very least do that.

“That would be great! Ooh, a new friend! I don’t have many of those,” Lauren burst out excitedly, giving a little twirl. Cleo smiled despite herself, a laugh bubbling in her throat.

Or not.

But maybe she didn’t mind that. Maybe she didn’t mind helping the Sand Witch—helping Lauren out a bit.

[m0e-ru]

Adachi felt the jingle of his keys as he patted his pockets to check for them. But his heartbeat stuttered as he felt something was missing. Had he forgotten something? What could he have dropped?—slipped out of his pocket, he means. But was that thought of any assurance than the last..?

wip of uhhhh. adachy. first month early into the au timeline basically. drafted this as his first dream equivalent ages ago but it ended up as just something i wanted to put out and establish . things. damn imagine if god tried to test your emptiness in the most unreliable and unconventional way possible like okay . “controlled” environment but the scientific method didn’t mean it like THAT

The detective would find himself at the central shopping district frequently as he’d work on his “cases.” Be it finding a petty purse thief or a lost cat—what would you expect in a city surrounded by mountains and hills alike? One would appreciate some creativity in a while, as long as it wouldn’t make more work than it should, that is.

The shopping district… Adachi had made it a landmark for himself of sorts. Some kind of recognizable beacon to return to when he would get lost in the maze that is Inaba city. It had also been awfully rainy that month. Was it a characteristic of the area’s climate? Or simply some power making his days more dreary than they already are? Besides that, it also meant he’d see that colorful character of a gas station attendant more often than he would like. The man would wave at him amidst the soul-sucking rain whenever he and his boss would pass by to canvas the area.

As much as he would get caught up in the employee’s flurry of gossip and well intentioned remarks, akin to the babbling and life story sharing of elderies alike, Adachi had noticed they’ve never had a substantial conversation with one another. Both parties learning just barely enough about each other to even be called acquaintances.

He continued pondering—whining—in his head as he made his way through the night, light raindrops pattering against his yellow raincoat, and his knees getting damp. The season was warm enough he wouldn’t see his breath as he exhaled, yet the rainy evening chill made him shudder as he walked. Along with that chill, he felt the paranoia of being watched. In this hick town? The old folks’ superstitions may have begun to get to him.

Adachi felt the jingle of his keys as he patted his pockets to check for them. But his heartbeat stuttered as he felt something was missing. Had he forgotten something? What could he have dropped?—slipped out of his pocket, he means. But was that thought of any assurance than the last..?

He spent his time thinking blankly as his feet led his way back somewhere, hitting puddles over the asphalt. Hands in his pockets as his legs dragged him to… the central shopping district. Of course.

The detective looked upwards with heavy and tired eyes, just enough that water wouldn’t fall onto his face. The dull and washed out yellow and red of one of the only gas stations in the area: Moel Oil… all shone upon by the dim lights of the nearby streetlamps. He always felt that if he stared long enough, the paint would peel in front of his eyes, and a big enough flake of it would fly straight into his face. Adachi already scrunched his face at the thought of it.

The canopy’s lights were off, something unusual for a gas station, yet quite usual for a city like this. Just then, the lights in the convenience store also shut off. Adachi waited for an little longer to see another man leave through the door, then squat down in front of it to lock it. From a distance, Adachi heard the jingle of keys as the man stood up. To which the figure in the dark saw the detective across himself, having seen his silhouette against the streetlamp lights and the falling rain. He greeted the dripping wet detective with a lilt in his voice.

With a hop in his step, he briskly came over and mentioned something he wanted to return to him. That Adachi had dropped something the last time he was at the station. He offered the last of his time on duty to go bring it to him, where he turned heel to the back of the store before he could hear his company could sigh.

They both made their way to the back, and the man in red dashed in the shower, while the one in yellow simply walked in a tired pace. Just past the restroom, the attendant ran up to the backroom door which he swung open as if it hadn’t been locked before. He disappeared inside with a squeak as his wet soles slid against the floor. Adachi didn’t hear a crash, but instead saw a hand pop out of the room which waved around, beckoning him inside.

He was told he could leave his raincoat on just as he was seen hesitating on entering the room, it would just be final mop work anyway. Wouldn’t want to make it more inconvenient for him, because city boys love the convenience of their home.

The room looked cramped. Storage, and even arbitrary boxes were piled high in unorganized chaos. It even covered the doorway to the store counter itself. Maybe that’s why the employee simply decided not to go through the front. Although, it was a bit claustrophobic, really.

There weren’t much lights in the room, besides the streetlamp’s lights behind the firewall which barely flooded inside the room, and the… TV…

The detective scratched his head. He questioned himself if it were midnight… Further questioning himself as to what made him connect such concepts in the first place.

Words slipped out of the attendant’s mouth in his usual fashion as he walked farther into the room. But there was something about them, though. They felt sharp. As what could be taken as insults would simply be awfully blunt statements from an honest man. Then again, Adachi wouldn’t have the best judgment as he yawned widely as the other party spoke. But if he had to admit, some part of that brief moment unsettled him more than it did offend him.

After shuffling through a shallow box in the dark, the attendant turned around and handed the detective his ID. Inaba PD, Tohru Adachi… he must’ve found it easily from the gleam of a shiny new badge. 

Just then, he looked up to a similar gleam across  the attendant’s teeth. He made a smile wide enough to show his gums, and the words he had spoken felt like

venom. 

Did the man insult him? Berate him? Share a secret no one should have known? Whatever the detective had heard, all he saw was that the man kept smiling, and felt his own heart beating. The red he wore was dulled down to a purple, shone upon by the light of the cathode ray TV. 

He stepped closer—or Adachi did. Whoever it was, the distance closed. And kept closing. The two colors of a caliginous orange and lilac moving slightly as if he laughed. But it was all silence.

It was at this moment the man in a wet raincoat realized he hadn’t seen this individual’s eyes. And would he have come to regret the decision to answer his curiosity.

As if he tried to squint, to squat, even, just to take a look under that brim. But it’s like the figure grew taller right before him, or he shrunk as small as a pathetic mouse. Was it darkness, or was it light? He wasn’t sure. It was as if all his senses were getting sucked into that view like a black hole, unsure of what he was looking at anymore. Looking into.

Amidst the feeling of losing himself, which felt like getting crushed under deep sea pressure, words continued to ring in his ears. Like they burrowed into head, giving it a texture of clarity, but also a murkiness he couldn’t quite describe. Like his respiratory system was clockwork, it made a profound “tick” inside him. Something he finally heard, something he finally felt.

He wanted to answer this feeling, he needed to answer it. Like the itch before you sneeze, and so desperately he had to sneeze. He wasn’t even sure what it was, if a response to it would hurt anybody—if it would hurt himself. He squeezed the ID in his hand, before a light thump and a muffled squeak was heard against the ground and

He was inside the TV.

His head dipped into the screen as it rippled, leaving visible only that stretched out smile.

“Shut up,” the detective spoke. In a tone he could not discern. 

Was it rage? Was it hate? Was it despair? He didn’t know. Did he even speak? All he felt was the heavy heartbeat in his chest keeping him grounded, as he couldn’t even hear himself. Only assuming the words that left his mouth.

He made a silent wish for his senses to return to him, but that, he would also regret once again. 

He put this victim further into the screen to get rid of something he couldn’t call a smile anymore. His hands were on this man’s peculiarly cold neck, where his hair also seemed to match. Bleached white by the light of the screen, it wisped around the detective’s fingers and brushed over his knuckles like fog. Just then, what he held felt thinner than it should have been, with a texture that couldn’t be described as human skin at all. Like he was still getting drowned and pushed deeper into the sea by waves. His senses were melting.

He felt frigid hands grasp his own arms now as this “man” tried to fight back. But it was more like it simply held him, in the same nature a mother would caress a child’s face. Until he put more and more pieces together in his head, what latched on him actually felt long and bony, and… critters—pests—slithered into his sleeves. His breath hitched in response to a sensation, which was already unbearable for him as he already felt like drowning. 

His own arms were behind the screen, along with the bust of this… thing’s body. He looked into the light of the TV, which felt like it were piercing straight through his eyes, but also light much too dim that he strained them just to see something. Ah, how many decisions would he regret that night.

He felt like he broke the tension of water when his own limbs enter the screen, where the surface rippled like a clogged sink. Rather than pulling something out, he was desperately trying to stuff something in. He squinted and his eyelids fluttered at the sensation of blowing wind, when the air was still as fog just flowed around his ankles from who knows where. 

And as if it stared back, two red lights shone through the screen. Like lights of electrical towers in the distance against an sunset. Oh, how he wished it were as elegant as that, when all he felt from it was that it was swirling with something. With madness. With discovery. With amusement.

Like how a voice rang in his head, he heard something echo.

All while he managed to throw a whole body inside a TV. What an absurd statement to utter—to even think about.

He wasn’t sure what that “something” he heard was. He wasn’t sure of anything.

The glow disappeared from the screen. The man had no light to look at the hands he held in front of him and what he’s done. He could laugh, but nothing could come out of his mouth. He couldn’t feel his chest as he exhaled. He couldn’t feel his face wrinkling to this emotion he felt. Was it victory? Was it remorse? All he felt was how the floor finally gave way as everything drowned in darkness. How he drowned into the sea as the tides pulled him under.

[narrators-journal]

I know I've been heavily complimenting your writing and I mean all of it but I think it might be getting repetitive so you know, might as well make another request so I not only get great writing, you hopefully have a fun time writing and get positive feedback. I think that a continuation of my first request would be fun and I did say I love things about getting together. If you want something other than fluff, my statements from my first request ask still stand.

(I assume it's noticeable who I am but I can start signing these as Grayson if you think that would be helpful)

Alright, not gonna lie, I took a while to really START this ask bc I went back and forth on where to take it. Between that and my drawing, writing has taken a bit of a back seat in general. But! I got this out, and I hope it continues the light hearted fun of the first post!

As Ryuji walked down the street, Yusuke held his umbrella for the both of them. The taller man far more comfortable with the job than Ryuji had been. “So, where did ya vanish off to with Akira? Are you playing us both for dates now? Or am I now in some competition with Joker for your affections?” Ryuji asked lightly with mischief alight in his hazel eyes and a small, playful smile on his lips as he looked at the artist. “No, I simply went to the bath house with him. I thought you’d appreciate me not smelling like clay and acrylic paints over lunch. Because, I can assure you, clay does notsmell appetizing.” He explained simply. Though, if he realized what Ryuji’s implied, he didn’t let it show in his blue-gray eyes for the entire walk to the ramen shop.

Oh, so this is how it’s gonna be, huh? You’re gonna be as dense as a brick today? Mr. Poetry can’t pick up the context clues?The blonde thought at the artist as his chest swirled with a mixture of hurt and amusement at the odd man’s response. Though, of course, he didn’t verbalize those thoughts, even after it simmered down to only leave the devious amusement in his heart. Fine then, let’s play a game, Kitagawa. “So, I take it you’ve been working with clay as of late? Whatcha sculpting? Me?~” He asked coyly once they’d gotten to the shop. Paused at the doorway to let Yusuke shake out his umbrella and drop it into the small basket put out for the customers, “I am, and nothing that would interest you. Before we’re allowed to create anything original, we’re being made to sculpt one of those anatomical figures for the human body. So, I’ve just been working on shaping and carving out musculature this past week.” And, Ryuji nodded at that as they found themselves seats at the counter. And, for the while it took for the pair to pick their dishes and receive them from the waitor, their conversation mainly circled Yusuke’s studies. The struggles of his teacher’s high standards, how much Yusuke hated the feeling of clay on his hands, all of the muscles and anatomy details the man had learned in his lessons for this project.

It all went in one ear and out the other for the blonde. But, he let the artist continue nonetheless. Not because he particularly enjoyed art, but because he enjoyed how much yusukeenjoyed art. How the tall man’s eyes seemed to become more and more blue whenever he spoke of color theory, figure studies, or paint brushes. Or, in this case, the agonies of clay beneath his fingernails and clay water in his mouth. Though, the fun of the slipped in implications and hints of their lunch being a date also helped him enjoy the conversation. “-plus it gets fucking everywhere. I’ve sacrificed so many shirts and pants to clay stains.” “Can’t you just pick the clay off when it dries, though?” Ryuji asked through a mouthful of his chosen noodles. “I could, but I hate unfinished clay. It feels...chalky? I don’t know how to phrase it in a way that gets across why exactly I hate it. Just know that I hate how it feels when it dries.” Yusuke continued, though he paused to take a few bites of his own ramen. The pair’s food eaten between their chatter. “Ah, yeah I guess that would be an issue. Though, I now know what to look out for on our next date.” “Oh god, no! I’d never wear a shirt that’s been stained with art supplies out. Plus, I try to minimize the spreading of stains by wearing certain clothes when doing certain crafts. That way, I won’t need to worry about the clay or paint.” And, the blonde nodded at that as thunder rumbled in the sky outside and his companion continued to list the ways he mitigated the mess of his work. Absorbed fully in his rambles and crafts. Is this how I act when I talk about the things I enjoy? Deaf to the world? Ryuji mused as he continued to eat and prompt Yusuke further. If so...has Yusuke been in my position before? Did I miss a date situation somehow? Shit…

With that, he took a moment to comb over their interractions of late. Doing his best to recall all of the details of those moments where he’d babbled on about his fighting games, or running, or his favorite tv shows. Wait, shit. If I was so absorbed into rambling, I wouldn’t recall if he asked me out, would I. Ryuji shook his head to banish the thought away and focus back in on Yusuke’s rambles. “-So yeah, I would use gloves, but it interferes with the, y’know, process of working with clay. At least for me.” The artist said, as unaware of Ryuji’s thoughts as a rock. Which, made the blonde sigh, Eff it. “Yusuke, are you aware this is a date?” He asked bluntly, the blue-haired man instantly knocked off balance by the blonde’s question. “Huh? What’s a date?” He asked dumbly, which made the man chuckle, “This is, Yusuke. This outing, our lunch. It’s a date.” He reiterated, his hazel eyes unwavering as he stared into the artist’s grey eyes, “Because I find you insanely attractive. You’re compotent in a fight, you’re romantic in your speech, and you’ve only got one braincell in that head, and it’s focused on art. I like that, so.” He gestured to the shop they sat in as the rain drizzled down outside. All the while, Yusuke stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Oh. Okay.” “Okay?? That’s it?” Ryuji asked, shocked at the casual acceptance of his confession. “I mean, yeah??” Yusuke said with a shrug, “I mean, you’re aesthetically pleasing to me, and while you’re a bit aggressive about it, you’ve got a good heart, and I enjoy your humor. So, I’m not mad that this is a date.” He explained, each word a fresh log on the fire in Ryuji’s cheeks. “Oh. Okay then.” Was all he could manage after that, and Yusuke nodded.

So, the two sat there. At the counter of the heavily-scented ramen shop. Neither knowing what to do now, so they ate their food and just. Casually chatted as if the air between them wasn’t thickened further by the awkward, yet...somewhat happy energy.

[reap-the-game]

captainqster:

Just as Gia did not bother hiding himself, Ilya did not bother hiding his notice. He had a rather tangled impression here, aware of Gia’s sudden discomfort and his blushing. Something had bothered him. Was he shy? Prone to modesty? Surely he’d expected nudity, knowing they were going to bathe, and yet something upset his footing, so to speak.

Beneath Ilya’s curiosity over this was the compartmentalization of Gia’s body. He was a curvy thing, shaped in such a way that a weaker man might find tempting, though the sight of him wasn’t exactly a surprise given his manner of dress. The chest and waist wraps had not hidden his hourglass figure, the flatness of his chest or the swell of the hips. What it had hidden was a crucial part that was…missing.

This Ilya found curious. He wondered whether it had always been that way; a birth defect, or a necessity encountered later in life. Barring necessity, perhaps…cruelty? Gia’s reason for being on this island at all was yet mysterious to him. The unrelenting storm, the absence of others. Where did this peculiarity of Gia’s body fit in? Did it fit in at all? He knew that he was staring, watching without apology as Gia stepped into the pond, and didn’t bother stopping himself. He might have learned tact enough not to ask about it outright, but his lover had not yet smacked the habit of staring out of him and probably never would.

Ilya was a man filled with curiosity. His eyes wanted to take in all, absorb it well and good. So he did, allowing his stare to become neither lecherous or disturbed. Merely aware.

He accepted the soap and gave it an appreciative sniff, then set to careful work lathering what parts of his body he could reach.

“If you did not expect it to be dethroned,” Ilya told him, amused, “you would not have raised the question of my favorite spots.”

Lather the bar, swipe it across his shoulders and chest, swapping the soap from one hand to another. As the suds began to run down his stomach, he gave his companion a teasing look.

“But I can have two. I will not forget the place you took care of me, and I will not forget this pond.”

And that was all he intended to see. Gia’s love for his island was justified, but Ilya still very much intended to return home. His sense of urgency might be repressed. That didn’t mean going back wasn’t a priority. It was only that his recovery came first, thanks to Gia’s mental meddling, and that was already beginning to wane. He could walk farther and talk without exhausting himself. Maybe he couldn’t wash as quickly as usual, or sufficiently lather his hair or back. The stronger he became, though, the sooner his preoccupation with leaving would return, and with his strength coming back it was bound to become an unrelenting demand.

For now he watched Gia dunk his hair. It was an idle stare, even if Gia was beautiful, even if Ilya may have measured chest and arms and the rest that was visible with unobtrusive appreciation, then wiped all evidence of it from his expression when Gia righted again. And so what, he thought. He had no intentions, not by speech or action. Should he also turn his eyes away from the sunlight sparkling on the water or the richly colored jungle flowers?

It was, unfortunately, impossible not to be endeared to Gia. Even if he didn’t smile and fuss so, he’d saved Ilya’s life. There was a debt there that would play on Ilya’s favor and affection always. It was simply man’s nature.

At Gia’s unexpected question, Ilya turned his eyes to the treetops and ‘hmm’ed. Anything like Golmore? Well, yes, and that brought him equal deals of ecstasy and homesickness. The circumstances under which he’d left had been regrettable. He’d chosen love over his duty and his people, drugging his master so that he could make his escape in the dead of night to then meet his darling and flee. Many years of shame had stretched on before that. His years in the outside world and Junichi’s level-headed counseling had eased the pain little by little. There was still much of it.

But Golmore. That haven he missed, that beautiful place, yes, he was glad enough to remember it.

“It is. It smells like home.”

Home. Years now, and he still thought of it that way. How could he do anything but? He’d been raised beneath its canopy, toddled along its twisted boughs and cut his teeth on its wildness. Always the core of him would long for it.

It did bother him in some way that Gia had to ask. As an outsider he would never know it for himself, but he was Viera and if things were the way they were meant to be he would have grown there too. A shame.

“The trees in Golmore are bigger, wider.” He stretched his arm upward and pointed at the treetops, then had to drop it back into the water with an exhale. “It is its own world, Gia, with a canopy so high in places that you cannot see it, and trees so large that we build many of our villages in their branches.”

Looking around, he noted the open feeling of the island. It was thick and lush, but it breathed and kept itself open to the sun. Golmore’s density beget mysteries. This place felt different. Uncomplicated and pure.

“For many years I lived in the crown of a tree with my master.” He turned his hand palm-side up and formed a claw with his fingers. “The branches that rose from the bole were thicker than I am. But the flowers—”

He nodded towards a marvelous display of red and orange just at the water’s edge, a plant whose flowers were bigger than one’s head and layered with starburst petals.

“They are just as vivid.”

He looked back to Gia. “I wish that I could show it to you someday, but I’m sure your mother explained.”

reap-the-game:

He was being watched. Quite intently, quite shamelessly, and this Gia found difficult to reconcile with after everything already throwing him a bit off balance. Did he really look that odd? That strange? That deserving of being stared at, even if the stare seemed more curious than ill-intentioned?

“You’re staring,” Gia pointed out quietly, for his own part avoiding looking at Ilya entirely. That didn’t stop him from being terribly aware of the look he was being pinned with. It was not the hungry kind of looks he remembered, and that much was a comfort, but it was… Strange to be so visible. To be more than water, there, everywhere, but shapeless. Men would look gaze upon his waves, but not see him.

Not like they had after his arrival here. Oh, they’d seen him, and they’d wanted him.

Ilya saw him now, as well, and though he seemed to wonder… He did not seem to want the same. A part of Gia was almost insulted by that.

Insulted?

Didn’t he have a reason, though? Others had wanted him, before, and he thought himself quite beautiful. And yet here Ilya was, seemingly not disturbed by what he was seeing despite the oddity of it, but also not… Desirous, as far as Gia could see. What, was he not pretty? Was he not desirable? Was Ilya completely blind despite looking directly at him?

He didn’t let his offense crinkle his nose, or show in any other way either. It would not do to give Ilya an ill impression of him. Perhaps his desire would come with time; likely it would, because was Ilya not a man? And who else was there but Gia? Would it not come naturally that Ilya’s attention would eventually turn to him? Was Gia not the only one he could turn to?

They would be happy. Comfortable with one another and happy, once they… Well, it seemed Gia himself had some adjusting to do; that Ilya wasn’t the only one who had changes to get used to.

But that was alright. Just as Ilya, he would have the time to get used to this change in his surroundings, to sharing his life on this island with another. In time, it would all be so very beautiful—their life here, them, and them with each other.

Once Ilya got over himself, his thoughts of leaving, and any ideas of contacting that someone he loved. He would love Gia. No one else. He would have not the thought nor time for anyone else in his gorgeous life on this island.

Ilya said something that verily suggested he was not quite ready to accept that reality just yet. He would not forget. No, of course he would not, because their cabin and the pond would be his each and every day.

Gia could forgive that he had not yet given up his thoughts of leaving, though. It was only a few days that Ilya had spent on the island. Many more would undoubtedly be needed for him to give up on thoughts of running off. Gia could be patient and hold his tongue for now—for now do naught more than giggle and hide his distaste as he hid his offense.

As he listened to Ilya’s answer to his question, Gia took the second bar of soap and began to wash himself with it. It was good, very good that Ilya said the jungle smelled like home. It would be home! It was home.

That it reminded him of a past place he also considered home, oh, that was good. That Gia smiled at, a soft expression that played quiet intrigue, as befitting someone who was hearing of this comparison for the first time—as he was. As he listened, he tried to imagine it, but… It was difficult. The sea, that he knew every part of. Every creature, every underwater mountain, valley, and volcano, every trench, every type of sand and rock found in its depths.

But the land? That was strange to him. He had seen none past the shores of. The cottage he had shared with his mother: on a wind-beaten seashore. His island: just that, an island, with ocean on all sides.

And that was all he had seen. To imagine trees that towered so mighty one could build villages upon them?

Ilya said something else that struck Gia’s ear, as well. Master, he mentioned, and at this Gia frowned thoughtfully. Briefly he focused back on the present as he worked the soap into his hair to nod toIlya’s assumption that his mother had at least mentioned there was no entering Golmore for anyone, for any reason, then… “Master,” he tried the word, looking much as if he was trying to remember something.

When he continued with, “The man who was teaching you to become a… Warder?” it was quite apparent what he had tried to recall. Details of life in Golmore, what little he knew and however obvious his unfamiliarity with the concepts were for his trouble to pin them at will. Were the men not Warders, though? Protectors of the forests? While the women lived in the villages?

All the more a world he could scarcely picture and never would see. Not only for the reason Ilya had alluded to, but also… Even if he had been able to leave this place, even if… The sea was where he belonged. From it he would not part, could not tear himself from.

Could only be torn from.

A somber thought, and not suitable for the present. Gia mentally shook it off, eyeing Ilya’s work on washing his body instead. He was doing admirably, but not… Perfectly. “Do you need help washing?” Gia asked as a result. Would it not be more comfortable for Ilya to be thoroughly clean? Would he accept Gia’s help for that alone? The closeness would be good, could only help over time in keeping Ilya docile until he abandoned his plans of leaving, and… Gia wanted it.

But his want wasn’t reason enough to intrude and in so doing push Ilya away. No, he must be patient and cautious.

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

Lol I decided to be brave and not to hide using the anon mask. 🌝🤡

Have you ever thought about this NSFW/Explicit possessive Zhongli pounding reader in front of their stalkers? Like, there are these weird stalkers who always take a peek at reader whenever they got the chance. Zhongli finally had enough of it and decided to show them who owns this puss—🤐

"Pity. A mere human cannot touch what's mine. You see this seal on her abdomen? Yes, it means my seed is there to take place."

🥵💦 water pls

Thank you for waiting! ╰(￣ω￣ｏ)

Also you're tougher than all of the U.S. Marine for going non-anon lmao mad respect (≧∀≦)ゞ From the moment I saw your asked I knew it would awaken something in me and it did lmao it took me so long since I had to make sure I'd have enough horny vocab for this lmao and so let me water and quench your thirst now lmao.

Thanks for the first ever womb tattoo ask. Photo of the womb tattoo included.

CW: Public Sex, Mind Break, Dub-con

Marking You Gently

Summary: Zhongli appreciated how you were honest with him by revealing how your past lovers were run off by the amount of stalkers you had and he was pleased with how dependent you were on him to get rid of them, he just never thought he'd have to resort to drastic measure to stake his claim not that he was complaining.

--

Zhongli was keenly aware of your innate ability to attract stalkers. This much you had admitted to him when he had been on the receiving end of a particularly foolish one. Of course, this had not deterred him from courting you at all, if any, he had enjoyed the challenge of keeping you safe and staking his claim on you to your stalkers.

And you were so cooperative too, you had let him gift you accessories in his colors and wore it proudly on a day to day basis. That you spent most nights in his bed and company only made his win sweeter. Zhongli strived to ensure that you would be happy and content in a relationship with him and if that meant curbing his own stalkerish tendencies...well...it was a small price to pay.

It was this confidence that led him to not properly pay attention when one of your stalkers had gotten particularly...courageous.

“Zhongli~” you whined at him, worry and annoyance in your eyes, as you clung to his arm. Your soft breasts and erect nipples were a welcome sensation to his arm, “I can’t find some of my panties~”

Zhongli thought for a moment, trying to remember if he had forgotten to return some of your panties he had used to fap with, “Have you checked the laundry?”

“I did!” You were tearing up, voice about to cry “I-I think some of them got it again…” You clutched at his arm tightly shivering at the thought of your stalkers being able to easily invade Zhongli’s tightly warded home.

At your words, all thought of fingering your bare pussy fell out of Zhongli’s mind, he didn’t like seeing you scared and teary eyed. He kissed your forehead, removing his arm from the tender clutches of your soft breasts and enticing nipples to give you a tender hug of comfort.

“Why don’t you accompany me for a while? Until I catch those disgusting vermin?” Zhongli offered, soft smile on his face as he gently rubbed your back.

“Will Hu Tao be fine with that?” You asked, uneasy at inconveniencing the first boyfriend to ever care about you this much.

“Of course” Zhongli replied, kissing you sweetly on your lips.

It was easy then to use sex to calm your frightened self, Zhongli’s kiss grew heated and lascivious as his hands drew teasing circles on your ass and thighs, squeezing it in intervals before teasingly grazing on the folds of your pussy. He squeezes your ass cheeks, spreading it apart before he firmly places his hand below your ass to grab you up.

You cooperate with him, moving your legs to firmly hug his waist, your wet pussy rubbing against his erect cock. You moaned into his kisses, body shivering with delight as you clung to his body.

“Mn~” You moaned as your tongue entwined with his.

The wet sound of kissing seemed loud in Zhongli’s quiet apartment, the panting noises coming from the two of you could be heard clearly. As Zhongli placed you on top of his dining table, hands going under your shirt to fondle your soft breasts and play with your erect nipples.

“Haaa~” You panted as your body arched with pleasure, Zhongli’s long and thick cock was rubbing against your clit.

“Just leave everything to me” He said, as he laid reverent kisses on top of your stomach. Leaving a trail of hickeys that led to your throat. He had already ripped your shirt off your body, exposing your breasts that still carried last night’s marks and your erect nipples which still had his teeth marks surrounding it.

“Forget about all those unpleasant things, my love” He crooned as he kissed you on the pulse beside your neck. His free hand was teasing your wet pussy, fingering it until he knew that you would be able to take all of him all the way in.

“Zhong-” You moaned “-please! Put it in!” You begged brokenly as his masterful ministrations on your body left you a panting and moaning mess.

Zhongli hummed in satisfaction, “And what do we say?”

“Plea-please” You began shakily, “put your co-cock in my slutty pushy!”

You fumbled on the last word, moaning it out as Zhongli thrusted his thick cock inside you in one strong move, not bothering to wait until you finished speaking. He moved his hips back and forth, the head of his cock hitting your g-spot again and again until you could only moan and call out his cock with a loving voice.

You were oblivious to the predatory grin in Zhongli’s face or the way his eyes glinted dangerously as his mind thought of a solution to your ability to attract stalkers. He licked his lips, growing aware of the change in his teeth to fangs.

He bent over to suck on your nipples, his hands preoccupied with keeping your legs spread apart as he thrusted his cock against your wall.

You keened, your body arching and pussy clenching on his dick as you came, Zhongli moaned as he came with you, spilling his seed inside your clenching pussy and uterus, he spilled so much cum, as if he had not just creampied you last night until the early hours of the morning.

He collapsed on top of you as you lay limply on the table, panting and pussy twitching from the earth shattering orgasm you had.

“Have you heard of womb tattoos?” Zhongli asked as he lovingly and gently cradled your face, kissing you on your cheek.

You blushed, “No, I haven’t.”

He hummed, not bothering to unseathe himself from your warm and comfortable pussy, “It is typically used for lewd purposes,” Zhongli explained as he let his hand drop from your face, gently tracing a line from your neck, passing through your left tit, playfully rubbing your nipple, before he ultimately ends it on the area above your crotch “But it can also be used as a way to repel...shall we say your disgusting stalkers?”

You let out a soft “oh!”

“Would it be painful?” You asked, worried that tattooing it on that area would be too much for your pain tolerance.

“It wouldn’t” Zhongli assured you “I would never let you feel any pain.”

He smiled at you with so much affection that you easily agreed to his solution, you didn’t bother to give any input to what Zhongli was going to do, you had so much trust in him that you simply waited for the day he’d marked you and solved your most annoying and hated problem.

You hadn’t thought to ask what it would do, believing that Zhongli would make the tattoo a repellent against your stalkers. Which wasn’t wrong per se, it wasn’t until the tattoo was put into use did you register what it would actually do.

--

For Zhongli, it was normal blissful week of having you in his arms, regaling you with Liyue’s rich history and flirting with you as a gentleman would. It was his day off, and thus he had brought you to Wangshu Inn for a short staycation for the weekend. His strong presence at your side had deterred even your most courageous and stubborn stalkers, not that it had stopped them from trying to take a peek at you when you bathed or changed clothes.

A quick petrification to some of the most vile ones was an easy way to scare off the rest of them. By the time he was done turning some of them into stone, you were finished with your business and happily ensconced yourself into his arms. Purposefully not paying attention to the new additions on the inn’s decoration.

“Shall I take you to solve some geo puzzles?” He offered, his hand resting lowly on your hip, just above your crotch, firmly gripping you at the sides.

“Okay~!” You happily complied, leaning even closer to him much to his visible satisfaction.

While you were happily clinging into Zhongli, listening to his engaging explanation of how the mechanism worked and its purpose, you were unaware of the group of stalkers that were watching you from behind. They were lying on the ground, using the natural reflective surface of the water to take a peek at your crotch that was exposed due to the crotchless panties Zhongli had you wear underneath your clothes.

From their binoculars, they could see how wet you were, cum dribbling slowly out of your pussy that had them salivating and achingly hard. They were imagining that it was their cock being shoved to your exquisite pussy, that it was their cum that was dribbling down the folds of your thoroughly used cunt.

They were so immersed in their fantasy that they had not noticed Zhongli’s murderous glare as he sealed them together as if they were Azhdaha.

“It seems that none of you had learned the lesson” He spoke coldly, glaring with complete and uncharacteristic derision in his eyes as he watched them visibly turn pale.

You stood behind Zhongli, trembling with fear, you had never seen him quite this mad. It wasn’t until he had pulled you to the front, your dress shoved up to your waist and exposing your wet cunt and glowing tattoo did your heart start beating faster.

“Zho-zhongli?” You called out to your lover, trembling in his arms, as your legs shookt from the lecherous looks of your stalkers.

“Don’t worry my love, it’s about time for them to know who owns you” He whispered in your ear, making your pussy visibly throb and grow wetter.

You could feel your mind slowly turning hazy as your body heated up. The tattoo glowed brightly as Zhongli began fingering you. You were helpless and growing weaker, only capable of leaning on his chest, weakly grasping on the sleeves of his clothes as you began to moan.

Your legs automatically spread themselves, exposing the pink and cum-filled inside of your pussy, letting your stalkers know that Zhongli had thoroughly fucked and came inside your pussy earlier.

“Zhong-nnn!” You tried to call his attention, wanting to put a stop at his action but as his fingers curled inside your cunt, you let out a seductive moan that went straight to the cocks of every male in your vicinity.

“Good girl,” Zhongli praised as he watched your hand reach for the zipper of his pants, “Show them how much you want my cock.”

You nodded, eyes hazy, as you turned around and shakily knelt on the ground, your hands fumbled to get his cock out. You happily mouthed through the fabric of his pants as you tried to get his thick and long cock out of its constraints. Zhongli’s large hand was a comforting weight on your head, petting you as praises flowed out of his mouth.

“Such a good slut, not needing more instructions on her master’s part” He praised “Look at you happily fucking your mouth to my cock the moment you see it.”

You senselessly blowed his dick, tongue swirling on its tip and swallowing all of length until it hit the back of your throat again and again. You had long since forgotten about your stalkers or the fact that you were giving them a show.

Your mind was filled only with the thought of Zhongli’s cock and his cum. You whined when you felt him pull away, crying at the lost of the warm and comforting weight of his cock on your tongue.

“Shhhh” He appeased you, “turn around love, put your hands on the wall of the seal.”

You did as he said, body automatically positioning itself to a lewd pose, your tits were pressed on the wall of the seal, making your stalkers gulp and try to reach for it only to be electrified by the seal’s wall.

Zhongli smirked at their audaciousness.

“Cock~! I want your want cock~!” You cried out as you bent your body further, until your ass was pushed up to the air, shaking your hips to entice Zhongli. Your legs were spread apart to show him the pussy he loved and owned.

“Good girl” Zhongli purred as he took his cock and guided it to the folds of your pussy. He teased your cunt, sliding the head of his cock up and down the wet folds of your pussy making you whine and try to push your pussy towards his cock.

He slapped your ass, “Behave.”

You did as you were told, there was no autonomy in your mind anymore, the glowing symbol on your abdomen had thoroughly wiped out any sense in your brain. Zhongli had reduced you to walking, talking flesh light.

With a look of superiority, Zhongli thrusted his cock inside your waiting pussy, he maintained eye contact with your stalkers as he fucked you from behind. He mercilessly plunged his cock in your abused pussy, ramming it again and again against your cervix, the pain turning into pleasure. Each thrust of his had the tattoo glowing drawing attention to it as you moaned and drooled from the pleasure. You were no longer the proper and energetic lady that was known in Liyue.

Zhongli’s cock and womb tattoo had reduced you to this lewd slut that craved his cock and cum. Your mind was filled with sex and pleasure, begging him for more,

“Please! Give me your seed!” You cried “Breed me! Ahn~!”

Zhongli watched as some of your stalkers threw away their dignity and started fapping to your lewdness.

He pulled you away from the wall, hoisting you up and fucking you as your arms automatically wrapped itself backwards on his neck. He made out with you sloppily while his cock fucked your pussy, bulge visible on your stomach and slightly deforming the glowing tattoo.

You came from the immense pleasure but Zhongli didn’t bother stopping even as you lay limp and unconscious in his arms. He kept on fucking you, hands groping your wildly bouncing chest as your stalkers started pumping their cocks faster.

He turned to them and taunted, “Pity. A mere human cannot touch what's mine.” He placed a kissed to the side of your throat as his eyes grew darker and his voice dripped with possessiveness that belonged to a dragon, “You see this seal on her abdomen?”

He smiled darkly as he saw recognition on their eyes, it was only natural for them to know what it was considering that they all had the same thoughts towards you. The difference was that he had won and they were losers, pitiful humans who would never have you nor have you sire their spawn.

With great delight, Zhongli crushed all of their dreams as he confirmed the worst of their thoughts, “Yes, it means my seed is there to take place."

And then he spilled all of his cum inside your pussy, spilling it all the way through your uterus as the mark glowed brightly before slowly dimming and sinking back beneath your skin.

It was a clear sign that Zhongli had successfully impregnated you.

“Don’t ever step foot in Liyue again” He ordered, eyes glowing bright as he cursed them out of the land.

He left with you in tow, fixing your clothes and pushing back the cum that dripped on the inside of your thighs back to your pussy. Zhongli smiled at your sleeping form, content and pleased with the knowledge that none of your stalkers would ever bother you again.

“I wonder how you would act with other variations of this tattoo?”

[wheelsup]

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

     Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

     He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

     But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date. 

     Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body. 

     It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup. 

     You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours. 

     You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

     “Yes.” 

     One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose. 

_____

     Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

     “You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible. 

     Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

     “I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

     “And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.” 

     Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had. 

_____

     After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer. 

     The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops. 

     Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this. 

     It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones. 

     You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

     As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him. 

     He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known. 

     Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth. 

     You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.  

     But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

     But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

     He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic 

[extravaguk]

sweets&ink

part of my opposites attract! series. 

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / pjm / kth 

pairing: tattooartist&tattoed!jungkook x baker!reader

summary: jungkook was everything you feared but exactly what you needed to heal your broken heart.

wordcount: 5k

genre: fluff - angst - smut (s2l!au)

rated: m (?

warnings: some cursing, mentions of past abusive/toxic relationships/trauma that might be triggering, a lil of making love at the end. it’s overall just suuper fluffy, trust me. jungkook is a s i m p. we love that for him! slow burrrnnnn.  

Jungkook knows it was love at first sight, but doesn's know how to really explain it.

He knew from the moment he entered the small shop, pastel green walls welcoming him  replete of sugary treats, a sweet and heavenly scent engulfing him as soon as he stepped a foot inside.  With a new found sense of calmness and serenity within he hadn't experienced in a long time, he searched for deserts of his liking, mouth watering while assessing the many options of baked goods available and bright colored frostings stealing his attention.

"Hi. How may I help you?"

Then he looked up and found you. It wasn't easy to appreciate your whole appearence with the counter hiding the lower half of your body, but it was enough for Jungkook to think to himself that he had never seen a prettier girl in hiis entire life. And that's when he knew it. Any type of movement in his surroundings coming to a halt, his heart skipping a beat, his favourite song playing inside his head. And that particular sensation. The same one that had made him feel so at ease since he found your bakery. For a moment he thought his doe eyes might have actually turned into heart eyes until you raised your eyebrows, a concerned expression replacing your previous warm smile. 

Blinking his eyes and clearing his throat, coming down from cloud nine into the real world, he stuttered his order as best as he coud manage, heart pounding inside his chest and later feeling mortified for not being able to pronounce "gingernap cookies" correctly. 

At first he kind of hated Seokjin for blackmailing him into going to his favourite bakery to buy his favourite cookies (Jungkook really should've known better than accidentally spill ink all over Jin's new script), but when he comes back home with a goofy smile on his face and dreams of your face, he makes sure to text him he'll go get his cookies anytime he wants.

But Jungkook is a masochist apparently. 

Because a week after your first encounter he realizes that not being able to get his mind off a girl he's literally only seen once in his entire life is not exactly normal. Not for anyone, but especially not for him. Realizes that the way he embarrassed himself in front of you and probably looked like a bluberring mess (or a creepy weirdo who had never interacted with any woman before) is not reason enough to not keep wanting to try again. And the way you just giggled at him and simply shook your head as you wrapped the ginger cookies he had asked for in a pretty packaging has kept him aching for more. 

So he comes once a week now. Still as nervous as the first day, but content to see that your face seems to light up at the sight of him stepping through the door the same way his does. He likes to see you in your cute pastel dresses, and if he didn't know better he'd think you were just trying to keep up with the bakery's aesthetic. But the more he frequents your shop, the more he realizes you're exactly like the treats you bake. He likes how your vividly honeyed persona contrasts with his darker and reserved one. Likes how you're all colors of the rainbow and he's just a scale of greys.

They are small interactions. Just courtesy and cordial exchange of words everytime he visits. He doesn't even know your name and you don't even know his, but sometimes he asks how was your weekend and sometimes you ask how many people had he inked that week. Sometimes he tells you how pretty you look, and sometimes you blush in response. Sometimes you add an extra macaron in his order and sometimes he debates on whether or not he should write down his number on a napkin and slide in right on the countertop before he waves goodbye. 

And although Jungkook has never been one to shy away from women, he feels a certain way he can't exactly pinpoint. A way that makes his confidence falter and leaves him feeling like a little kid who's afraid to confess to the girl he likes. Because as cliché as it sounds, you're not like any other girls he's ever met. You don't feel like any other girl he's ever met. Not the older than him, tattoed and pierced type of girl he's accustomed to; not the type of girl that's addicted to trouble and believe him (maybe even hoped) to be something he's not. So it takes a while for him to summon up enough bravery and determination. It takes weeks of pining and overthinking, and a single push from Yoongi ('stop being a fucking pussy and just do it') to ask you to have coffee with him.

"I... I'm sorry. I can't."

And it only takes those words leaving your mouth to shatter his heart into pieces. 

 It's fine though, he told you and himself. He wasn't going to be one of those guys who believed the 'friendzone' was an actual thing and tried his best to not make you feel uncomfortable, really tried his best to erase the guilt across your face as you rejected him.  So he scratched the back of his head and mustered up a big smile before leaving the shop with a bag full of cupcakes and an unsettled stomach.

Letting out a deep breath you didn't even know you were containing, you observe as the handsome stranger exits the shop. Running a hand through your hair before gripping the counter with your hands, you try to steady the heavy throbbing insde your chest. 

The boy in question had been unknowingly tormenting you and flooding your mind with thoughts of him for almost two months now. That day you first had spotted him eyeing the desserts in display in amazement and then you in the very same way. It was sudden and precipitated, but it had almost made your head spin, something you hadn't felt in a long time unexplainable tugging at your insides. 

You had kept your cool as best as you could, as best as you had taught yourself in the past. Wrapped those cookies he had asked and then waved goodbye, hoping under your breath he wouldn't come back but silently wishind he would. But then he did. He came back once. And then again. And again, and before you realized he had become a frequent costumer. Trying whatever treats you'd recommended him, creating small talk, sending friendly smiles here and then. 

You had learned to expect him at the very same time, the very same day of the week; had learned to manage the fluttering in your tummy and the reddish warmth spreading through your cheeks whenever the eye contact was prolongued. Everything was innocent, it was brief and, most importanly, it never went beyond, even if sometimes you hoped it did.

However, after all these years, there was still something you hadn't learned to control yet. And as he spoke, clearly nervous, hesitant and clearly out of his comfort zone, wondering out loud if he could ever treat you to a coffee sometime, your body shut down. The fondness and excitement you had been harboring over the last few weeks quickly replaced by that which made you want to recoil, made you want to back to your well to let its darkness and loneliness envelop you.

That horrible and ugly wave of crippling fear and axiety all mixed together; a little monster that you had successfully concealed, now displaying its ears in warning and the same smile that had been haunting you for years, now advising you, reminding you and most of all, threatening you, to go back to your own comfort zone. And so, powerless, there was nothing else you could really to but to comply, muttering an apology and a rejection that probably pained you more than it pained the boy in front of you.

You knew you did the right thing, but it definitely didn't feel like it. 

Especially a week later, as you expected his arrival- as always, ready with a tray full of fresh baked scones you had particularly made just for him, but were left severely disappointed when time passed and he was nowhere to be seen. Or two weeks later, after spending an extra hour making cake pops that you had specifically designed with him in mind (covered in dark chocolate and white sprinkles), only to realize it was closing time and that he never even showed up.

 To say you were bummed was an understatement. You knew you always looked forward to him coming in every week to grace your day with a smile and a polite talk, but you didn't come to terms with how much you would miss it until now. So three weeks later, you still bake with him in mind, trying not to lose hope but still chastising yourself for not being brave enough and accepting his offer. It was just a coffee date, for God's sake, not a marriage proposal! Trying to busy your mind with work and customers coming in and out, even if your eyes dart in anticipation everytime you hear the door swinging. 

When hours pass and the sun hides to make room for the moon and stars into the sky, you look at the clock and, with a defeated sigh, finish cleaning and tidying around the shop. But before you can gather your things, the door swings open and there stands the stranger you had been praying to see again. 

"Am I too late?" he asks, and you don't exactly know but can tell his words hold a double meaning. You smile, a genuine smile, because he looks bashful with a hand scratching the back of his head like he had done the last time you saw him, and because there's a warm sensation spreading through your chest, like your heart is smiling for you. 

"I was about to close, but I can make an exception." you accomplish to say and surprisingly don't sound as nervous as you feel. He mirrors your smile as he walks closer to the counter. "So, what would you like?" 

That takes him by surprise because he really had nothing in mind when he decided to come here and now he feels like an idiot. 

"Uh, um... I would like... maybe cupcakes?" he sounds like an idiot too. But you nod and smile at him and start gathering his cupcakes into a polka dot cardboard box.

"You missed the cake pops I made last week." you say, trying to keep your voice in check as he hands you his credit car. "I think you would've liked them."

"Ah, sorry... Work has been really hectic." and even if it's true, it's also true the fact that he chickened out and was frightened to face you again. He likes how even when you're alluding to his absence, there's not a malicious tone behind your words. He likes how you're still smiling at him even after he's been acting like a pussy for two weeks. But that's why he's here. "I also would like to apologize for... you know. I didn't-...If I made you feel uncomfortable, I'm really sorry."

With your eyebrows raised, your smile dissipates. "What? No, you didn't do anything wrong, really. It's not- It's not that. I just...can't." you stumble through words, trying to explain how much you actually wanted to go to that coffee date, to get to know his name and more of himself, but unavailable to. You can feel it again. The same anguish that always seem to creep up on you and numbs you altogheter. But him, worriedly sensing your distress, waves his hands in front of him.

"No, no. It's fine, you don't have to explain anything! It's alright!" his smile seems to soothe you and you return his smile in gratitude. "Anyways, I'll... I'll get going. See you next week?"

You nod, anticipation already making its way into you. "See you next week." and then he takes the box filled with cupcakes and says goodbye. Before he can open the door though, a tingle of impulsivity and fearlesness makes you say:

"I'm _____, by the way."

He pauses, clearly taken aback.

"Jungkook."

Jungkook hasn't stopped repeating your name in his head ever since you gave it to him, grinning like a fool and thinking about how good it sounds next to his. He hasn't stopped frequenting your bakery either and has lost count on how much money he's spent on muffins and whatever else you sell. He doesn't care though. All he cares about is how much likes seeing you even if it's only for fifteen minutes in your floral dresses, and as long as you keep looking like you're glad to see him every time, then he's fine. 

He's more than fine. He feels amazing. Sings tunes while he works on customers, feels his creativity flowing more than ever and he feels whole. It still baffles him how a minimun interaction with you once a week can make him feel on top of the world. 

He's got a bouquet of white and pink lillies next time he visits, so sappy and romantic he doesn't even recognize himself. He doesn't tell you he googled their meaning and his mind instantly associated them with you. Purity is exactly what he thinks of you and admiration is exactly how he feels about you. Hands it to you and the surprised look on your face and the spreading of pink all over your cheeks makes his heart burst. You thank him and he tells you he didn't know what your favourite flower is. You answer it's carnations. He writes it down somewhere in his mind, for next time. And then you're the one surprising him.

"Would you like to have coffee sometime?" 

There's uncertainty in your voice that doesn't go unnoticed by him, and for a moment he thinks he's dreaming. He's cool with what he's got right now with you, but you repeating his words back to him makes him feel euphoric, like he can't believe it. He knows he looks dumb, the way he's looking at you. 

Completely dumbfounded. He stutters like the first same he met you, but he says yes (omits the part where he tells you he could almost die). You exchange number in each other's phones with shaky hands, set the day and hour, and then wave each other goodbye. 

You instantly regret it as you watch him leave. Keep regretting it the following days. That voice in your head telling you 'it'll happen again', telling you fairytales didn't exist and this most likely wasn't one, even if it felt like it was, suffocating you like it had done many times before. Screwing with your head until you consider canceling. 

But you power through it, like you had taught yourself to do. This time it's harder though. Because this time there's a new romantic interest at hand, one that's making you feel things you buried a long time ago and made you swear to yourself you'd be smarter and stronger than any man could. 

It's Hoseok's encouraging words that help ease the panic. It was also Hoseok's words who encouraged you to ask Jungkook out. Said you deserved something good for once and that you couldn't close yourself to love your entire life. 

Thought it was time for you to write a new chapter after a rather sad one. 

So on Saturday, Jungkook insists on picking you up and it already feels like too much for you. Especially when he shows up with a bouquet of carnations in his hand and a smile that takes your breath away and definitely doesn't help to ease your nerves. 

Takes him by surprised how pretty you look.  maybe because it's the first time he's seen you out of your shop and even though you're still loyal to your clothing style, he still fumbles with his words like an idiot to try to express how beautiful you look. Seeing he's as much of a mess as you settles you a little bit. Then he takes you to a cute café that almost makes you laugh, because seeing him, inked arms and piercings and a closet that consisted mainly of black oversized t-shirts and pants in such a bright environment reminds you of the first time he entered your shop. 

You're surprised to see how well the conversation rolls, how easy it is to talk to him beyond the usual brief interactions you two have. You like how he makes you laugh and how he seems to love hearing it. You like how his attention is solely focused on you, even if his gaze on yours sometimes feels too intense and his overall character intimidates you. You like how soft spoken he is, how careful he is with words and the sound of his voice. Sounds like a lullaby without melody. 

And when the date is over, he drives you home, walks you to your door and respectfully wishes you a good night. You kiss him on the cheek spontaniously before hiding the embarrassment on your face and stepping inside your home. You miss the way he stays at your doorstep for a whole minute before getting in his car and driving himself home. You also miss how peacefully he sleeps that night, dreaming of cupcakes and you. You don't miss the heart emoji he sends you before going to bed, making yours quiver.

You're glad you didn't cancel, and now you're sure you don't regret it at all

It goes on. The dates, getting to know each other more and more, Jungkook's visits to your shop and spending way too much money on sweets and carnations, the butterflies in your stomach everytime he's near and the birth of something inside of you that's starting to make you feel alive after feeling dead for so long. 

It's still new, still wholesome, moves in slow motion. You're glad Jungkook doesn't push, doesn't ask for anything, never demands more than a kiss on the cheek everytime he drops you off. He is nothing like he looks like, you realized that right away.

But with every brand new beginning that requires feelings like this, especially as unique and exceptional as the ones Jungkook is causing within you, comes the evil monster trying to scare you off, to make you back off and remind you that not everything that shines is gold. The voice inside your head that keeps bewitching you back into a dark room, reminder in your head everytime that one day Jungkook will want more. He'll want more and you might not be ready to give it to him. 

A voice that keeps resonating and has kept you unmoving for the past few years and now is making you feel more frightened than ever. 

You've been more quite than usual and Jungkook can tell something is not quite right. It's a friday night, and after having dinner that he insisted on paying, he decided this time to drive you away, to a secluded space somewhere where you both can appreciate the city lights on the hood of his car. He can tell, so he asks you, but you give a vague answer. He wants to ask again, but he's afraid of overstepping your boundaries. He wants to get to know you in every level, want's to scratch the surface until he can see everything. He wants to learn you inch by inch. Wants to love every part you bare to him, because he's sure he will. 

"My ex partner was abusive."

You finally say with a voice that's not entirely yours, and it doesn't feel real. Doesn't feel real to say out loud and letting the words sink in. It's taken all this time of excusing behaviors that were not excusable, trying to make light of a situation that wasn't and blaming yourself for things that you were not to blame for. Jungkook stays silent, but his attention immediately focused on you as soon as you spoke. Eyes slightly wide and mouth starting to open as if to speak himself. But you go on.

"Not physically." you swallow a lump in your throat. "Sometimes he would throw things at me, but they didn't always land. Or... one time he pushed me while we were arguing. Never raised his hand at me though. It was mostly psychological and emotional. He was extremely jealous and possesive. Didn't like me hanging with my friends, would never bring me to hang out with him and his friends. Though I' was cheating on him with anyone. The cashier at the supermarket, a randome dude on the street that simply looked at me. Anyone." tears prickle your eyes, but you'd learned to hold them back.

"He would always get mad at me. Would already wake up angry and take it out on me. Without reason. Would always blame me for everything. He would get mad, insult me, call me any terrible name you can imagine, tell me I wasn't worth shit. That I wasn’t worth living.Then he would punch the wall, or break whatever was in sight. Everytime, I told him I was terrified of him. Would cry in a corner and beg him to stop. Sometimes he would just laugh at me for it." you sniff, still looking straight at the city lights, and trying to keep a composed tone throughout. You had grown up a lot since then, and you knew Jungkook deserved to know you. He deserved to understand. 

"Then he would calm down, apologize while he cried and promised he loved me and would change. He never did. It took me a long time to finally walk away, but the demons still haunt me to this day. You," you choke, because comparing your ex to the guy currently sitting next to you was like day and night, like heaven and hell. "You make me feel things I've never felt before. I always felt like asking for respect was asking for too much. And then here you come, like a knight on shining armour ready to sweep me off my feet. It felt like a dream. Still does..."

Jungkook's hands are balled into tight fists, his whole body rigid as he listened to you. His own heart breaking, like he could feel himself inside you and experiencing your own heartbreak. His blood's boiling, jaw so tight and eyes blinking. Pushing down his anger, because this is about you not him, he lets his body relax before sliding your hand in yours. 

"I like you so much,_____, it literally kills me at night how much. Not as much as hearing all of this, though. From the moment I saw you, I was whipped. I wanted and still want to give everything I can to see that smile of yours. It's me the one who can't believe you're paying me any attention at all." you're still not looking at him, but he still sighs in relief when your lips quirk up. "Just having you here next to me and letting me take you out on dates is more than enough for me. Whatever you give me, whatever your terms are, I'm content with that. You're healing, and while you do, I'll be right here."

You look at him now, not bothering to hide the tears streaming down your face anymore.

"What if I never heal completely?" there's fear in your voice as your eyes meet his, but just the dark brown in his gaze help you feel secure, less worried about the future and more serene about the now.

"I'll still be here."

It doesn't take long for you to call it love.  

Not when Jungkook keeps proving himself to be so different and so special. Not when his gestures never cease to make you feel so special, so worthy of recieving and sharing love. Because Jungkook makes you feel invincible, makes you feel one in a million. 

"What to you even see in me? We're like, polar opposites." you ask him one day. And it's true, you are. So different from each other, yet the same. He laughs in disbelief, shaking his head, still holding your hand in your doorstep about to kiss your cheek goodnight. 

"I see everything." he simply says, eyes boring into yours in adoration. "I see the sun, and the moon, the stars, the entire galaxy when I'm with you." your heart clenches as he interlaces his fingers with yours. "Before I met you, I felt like I was blind. Like I was lost and was looking for an exit that I couldn't find. But then I saw you, in your little bakery, with your cute dresses and those eyes, and it was like my eyes opened for the first time. Everything made sense. Everything has been filled with so many colors ever sinc-" 

You shut him with your lips on top of his, emotions pulling at your heartstrings the same way you pull him down by the neck. He takes a few seconds to respond, but then this hands are dropping to your waist, their warmth immediately spreading through your skin against the chilly night.

"Would you like to come in?" you whisper, breath fanning over his lips. He nods, hurriedly, and he knows he looks like a damn idiot for the hundredth time, but he doesn't care. Because coming in doesn't only mean stepping in your home. Coming in means you're letting him in. Means you trust him, means you want him there, means you're allowing him inside your heart. 

Again, Jungkook doesn't expect nor demands much. Your presence is everything he needs. You kissing him is like winning the lottery to him. Like completing a marathon, like climbing the Everest, like getting his first tattoo. Kissing you is sweet, fills him with something strong that makes him feel on drugs, like nothing matters but you and him. Like nothing has ever mattered to neither of you. 

So it's you who leads him to your room, it's you who straddles his thighs and pushes his hair back as his hands carress your sides. It's nothing fiery. It's slow, tentative, and full of care. Of lingering touches, low sighs against each other's mouths. 

It's you who reaches inside his shirt, hand sneaking past the hem of the fabric and trembling cold fingers coming in contact with firm skin. It's also you who asks for more with a small roll of your hips. It's you who asks him to take his shirt off. It's him who complies. Still tells you you don't have to, you tell him you want to. 

It's you who asks him to touch you. He's scared like he's never been, because you're you, and you're so perfect and everything he's ever wanted and suddenly he's afraid of you're too good for him. Jungkook only wants to make you happy, never wants to see you cry, just wants to treat you the way you deserve. 

It's you who begs.

It's you who tells him you need him. Need him take care of you, need him to show you much you're worth, need him to help you write a new chapter, probably even a new book where you're both the main characters and nobody else has ever existed. You say it with tears in your eyes, and he's quick to kiss them away, tongue entangling with yours. He's quick to undress you as well, with hands that still ask for permission even after you've granted it already. Hands and lips that are also quick and eager to learn your body, to find every mole in your skin as he lays you back to look at you in admiration. He keeps kissing you. From head to toe, muttering praise, making sure every 'beautiful' and 'gorgeous' and 'perfect' that leave his lips stay fire engraved in your being forever. 

He first makes you cum with careful fingers and skilled tongue, thighs wrapped aro around his head, eyes still looking for yours as his hands keep your body still and yours crumple the sheets beneath. Tells you how good you taste, how long he's been dying to have you like this. Tells you this you his favourite sight as he kisses his way up. 

You beg him again, asking him to please, please, fill you up. He groans against your mouth and he tells you again, you don't have to. He says he's happy like this. Repeats he's in no rush and just wants to please you and make you feel good. That it's about you, and will always be about you. You beg him again, and again and again, enticing him with a trail of wet kisses down his neck, up to his eralobe. You whisper there, tell him you need him to fill you with his cock so bad. His whole body goes rigid as your legs wrap around him, legs pulling him closer to where you want him, his erection grazing your entrance and his teeth nibble your lower lip. 

Jungkook doesn't move for a while, eyes closed shut, jaw clenched and head buried in your neck. He doesn't move because his mind is somewhere else keeping him stagnant, pussy wrapping around him so good and wet and tight he's about to bust. Takes a while for him to move, but when he does he makes sure to grip your thighs around him, keeping you close, never wanting to let go as he tells you you were made just for him. Just for him. Tells you how good you feel. He tells you he loves you. Kisses your lips as you sob, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. He tells you he loves you. Tells you he'll love you forever and will always keep you safe and happy. 

You're crying now, cheeks wet and he stops for a moment to look at you, concern written all over his face as his hands craddle yours, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. "We can stop, baby." You shake your head no. Pull him back into another kiss, urging him to go on. You tell him you love this, love him so much. That it's a good thing. That they are happy tears. That you've never been happier. And then his hips start moving again, your words egging him own, soft whimpers and sobs leaving each other's throats until you cum at the same time. 

He then removes himself from you, rolling onto your side but he's quick to pull your body close, arms wrapping around you and lips kissing away the wet stains on your cheeks. 

It doesn't take long for you to know Jungkook would be the healthy forever and after you had always dreamed of.

[rainyearning]

unavernales​:

“hm. that sounds nice. i could stand to have more of your voice in my life.” nabi could listen to darcy talk for hours. they find themself asking question after question of the most mundane things simply to hear darcy speak. unable to help themself, the vampire leans up on their tip toes to kiss darcy’s cheek. they had been to wrapped up in cooking to give their boyfriend some proper affection. one kiss is not sufficient. they know this. they have plans for cuddles after the meal, if darcy was in the mood. “i would love to see your plants.” his pride is endearing and sweet, and nabi would happily reciprocate it. the poet was proud of darcy for taking the steps to take care of himself. “would you grow me snapdragons? they’re my favorite flower,” nabi muses as he adds some rice. “aside from you, of course.” said with a glance to darcy and a sly smile. writers hate cliches, but was it a cliche if it was sincerely true? nabi adds spices– all in accordance to his boyfriend’s delicate palate. the vampire had nearly groaned out loud when they had learned that darcy was allergic to shellfish. it was such a shame, to never be able to share a big pot of seafood stew with his love. nontheless… “do you want something else to drink other than water? i could make some tea.”

It’s easy for Nabi to get Darcys cheeks to heat up, tinting into a soft pink color, almost matching his hair. He is so easily flattered.. “Then we have a deal. We have daily telephone calls.” Really, he could think of worse and it was a pretty gentle way to get reminded to step back and take a break. Maybe they both could use that. The tall male leans down slightly when he notices what Nabi intends to do, a content hum leaving his lips. But now, with that bit of physical affection, it’s hard for the taller one to now want more. It has him slide off of the counter so he can press himself to Nabis back, arms wrapping around their middle and his head resting upon their shoulder. “If that bothers you, just tell me and I go back on my counter..” He knows that a tall boyfriend clinging to ones back for sure wasn’t big help when one tried to cook. “I can grow you snapdragons. When I am done with the sunflower, I will totally start with a snapdragon.” It was nice that Nabi wasn’t making fun of him for being into weird stuff like that. He appreciated the overall supportive vibe his partner had. He never felt stupid around Nabi. He only ever felt embarrassed because the male had him realize how much work he had to do to become his best self. But that wasn’t to blame on them.. “I am not a flower though.” Darcy chuckled, nuzzling at the males shoulder. “But I sure hope I am at least your favorite someone.” Rice and vegetables, the dish his partner creates for him does smell pretty nice and Darcy once more realizes how hardly he cooks something healthy and good for himself. He had days that he was just going for whitebread and snacks.. “Mh.. no I am fine with water, babe. But thank you for spoiling me.” More kisses were placed against their shoulder while his arms squeezed at his middle shortly. “But if you want tea, I can make tea?” 

[dark9896]

Under the collar [Klaus x Reader]

This little steamy fic was requested by anonymous 😘

(Goblin mode activate, he he.....time to nudge the line agaaaaiiiiin~😈)

Klaus was sitting behind his desk. Having just finished the last of the paperwork, he felt content in simply relaxing to play a little Prosfair. His eyes however, wandered to where you were sitting on their own. Given the lack of paper and field work, you were currently playing a video game against Leonardo. Apparently you had won against him, since you had an adorable winsome grin and were holding up two fingers in victory.

Klaus's mind wandered to a couple days ago, when the two of you had been enjoying the icy weather by building snowmen and throwing snow at each other. Neither of you were very good at rolling snow, not that it stopped the two of you from acting like children across the front lawn. Klaus couldn't help but smile to himself, remembering how precious your grin and laughter had been. How beautiful you looked with a light dusting of snow in your hair. How you'd laughed yourself into a coughing fit when Klaus slipped and fell backwards into one of the snowmen. Your attempt to help him to his feet ending in you falling on top of Klaus.

It had all been so amazing to him, yet his mind kept going. Thinking of the hot bubble bath the two of you shared. How nice and warm the water was. How incredible it felt to have you leaned against his chest. The soft....intimate evening that followed.

No, stop......Klaus realized where this line of daydream was leading. He had to stop himself before this became noticeable.

But it wasn't working. Klaus's focus was on yet another memory, seeing a cute, lacy lingerie set in an online shop. You had joked about wearing it if Klaus bought it, and held true to your word. Seeing you wear something like that....Klaus barely managed to speak that night.

Klaus tugged at his tie, the sudden heat rising in his body made him extremely grateful to be seated behind a desk, and that he was wearing dark colored, restrictive pants. He had to stop this train of thought. Perhaps a game of Prosfair would help.

Klaus attempted to duck behind his computer as he opened the game window. The reflection on his screen showed his face had lit up a bright pink that was in danger of turning red. His mind wandered off again as the game loaded.

The time you found out he could pole dance. He found your sudden blush and fascination to be very sweet. You had been stubborn about learning, and Klaus was more than happy to train with you. But after you got the hang of the exercise, Klaus couldn't take his eyes off how smoothly you moved. While there hadn't been any sensual inclination to the act, Klaus realized why you had been blushing when he stopped. Seeing how gracefully you twisted your body, contorting and swinging around the pole, Klaus understood why it was so heavily associated with those kinds of clubs.

"Klaus? You okay?" Your voice completely derailed Klaus's thought pattern, for which he was grateful. Yet his face was slowly deepening to red, "You look a little uncomfortable over here. You don't have to keep it to yourself if you aren't feeling well."

That just made it worse. Klaus already felt guilty, allowing his mind to wander through such thoughts while at work, especially about yourself. Now here you stood, slightly leaned over the corner of his desk, concerned about his well-being due to his inability to hide his flustered expression.

"Ah, no. I'm alright [Name]." Why did you have to wear something that exentuated your curves? This was driving Klaus crazy, "Though I suppose I am a bit warm. I assure you, it's nothing to worry about. I do deeply appreciate your concern however."

"If you're too warm, maybe we should turn down the heat a little." Klaus scooted his chair closer to the desk in an attempt to hide any trace of what was really going on, "And maybe something cold to drink instead of tea?"

"That's not necessary [Name], but I thank you for the suggestions."

Klaus watched, partially upset at his own instinct to have you leave and partially worried about you falling over as you leaned across the desk to look at his computer screen.

"Did someone say something after a match?" Klaus tried to hold in and stifle a small groan, you were so close, your body spray smelled so nice, "Do I need to track someone down and make them apologize?"

Klaus was not expecting that, "Ah....no....thank you [Name]. That's very sweet of you, but I haven't played a match yet. I was waiting for it to load when you walked over."

"Oh, okay." You relaxed back, standing up to go back to gaming with Zapp and Leo, "If something is wrong, please don't keep it to yourself. At least tell Gilbert if you won't tell me, okay?"

"Of course sweetie." Klaus felt a little worse hearing you say it like that, but understood why you would, "I'll do so, should the need arise."

Klaus's other problem was not helped by your charming little smile. Nor could he stop himself from watching you walk away, his swirl of emotions and desires at war. He had to figure out how on Earth he was going to survive the rest of the day......considering that he found it difficult to focus on Prosfair while his mind was fixated on a mental image of you dressed up in lace, laying across the bed.......so beautiful......so vulnerable.......so trusting. Klaus needed something to work.....maybe a disaster would occur, nothing too dangerous.....maybe?

[simpz-art-stash]

Late Beginnings [Ch. 2]

Summary: Macaque’s gotten over the biggest gap on his side of the burnt bridge between him and his broke af relationship with Wukong. Now he’s gotta take an even bigger leap in hopes of getting MK to give him a chance as well.

(Author’s note: DUNNO IF THERE’LL BE MORE BUT WE’LL SEE, FEEL FREE TO SUGGEST STUFF TO PUT IN HERE)

Previous | Next

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It should’ve been easy, a kid like MK had a good head on his shoulders, enough to see the good in all besides himself.

It should’ve been easy.

So then why the hell was he still standing on the sidelines mulling over what to say to the kid who was just a few yards away training under the careful eye of his mentor?

What could he say? The same to Wukong? He felt that might be a bit too cliche, even if it had worked.

‘Just barely.’

Mac sighed, brushing his hair back and watching the two practice stillness together, Wukong resting on his tail in a lotus position while MK stood on one foot, straining to keep his posture in check. Even with the staff being used as a counter-balance his muscles flexed against the lack of support in his other leg.

Maybe he could offer him something? Nothing major of course, something innocent but worthwhile and thoughtful. Demon head’s wouldn’t do, the kid had no real use for those, nor would he probably appreciate a trophy that wasn’t his. What did kids even like these days anyways? He thought of toys but, MK was practically a bigger kid than most other cub’s. Most kids like him usually just kept to popular places or their phones…

Decisions decisions…

A small yelp forced him out of his thoughts, his gaze shifting back over to MK who had since fallen back on his butt. Groaning and complaining like usual before Wukong gave him the ol’ ‘keep it up!’ attitude, prompting MK to simply nod and give it another try.

‘Geeze, and I thought my training was harsh. At least I gave him actual critique on his form…’

Then an idea flashed in his mind, popping off like a rocket and he suddenly found himself with something worthwhile.

------~------

“Alright bud, I think that’s enough of that. Why don’t you hit the bench, I need to go check on the kids back inside n’ make sure they haven’t left a mess after that marathon I set up for em.” Wukong claimed, patting MK on the back before turning away. Offering a curt wave as he left, “Call me if you need me!”

“Alright, I will!” MK sighed and made his way over to a makeshift seat, which happened to be nothing more than a split log. And proceeded to take his headband off if not to just drench his hair in some of the water from one of the bottle’s he’d brought along with him. Before guzzling the rest of it down like he hadn’t drank in forever.

“I see he’s been keepin’ you on your toes. Full pun intended.” Mac commented, earning him a startled squeak from MK who had just about spat his drink out when Mac rounded him from behind to sit himself down on the opposing side of the log.

MK had heard a little snippet from MKing about Macaque trying to make amends, he didn’t get the full details but he’d heard enough to know to keep an eye out for the guy. Not that he wasn’t already always on high alert for any suspicious activity.

“Guh- yeah.” MK coughed a little, rubbing his throat a little as he cleared it. “It hasn’t been uh, easy, but I think I’m gettin’ better. Just need to try harder or whatever…”

“Mmm…” Mac let his gaze concentrate on the immortal peach tree Wukong had planted out in the front of his yard, it having long since bloomed and been picked clean.

MK shifted a little under the uncomfortable silence that spread between the two, there wasn’t tension in it per sey, but it was still a lil awkward for him to just outright be chatting it up with the same guy who had once tried to kill him at one point.

“So uh..I was hoping to..make it up to you, what with everything that happened the last time…” Mac’s face squinted a little, his tail irritably swaying behind him, it seemed this was just as awkward for him as it was MK.

“Uhm..okay?..” MK veered a little away from the guy, not too sure how to handle that. “Hey if this is about the whole ‘you trying to kill me thing’ then uh, hey man we’re cool.”

“What? I mean yeah but, it’s more than just that..” Mac fiddled idly with the hem of his cloak, the things color long since having been worn down from the elements. “A lot more…”

“Complicated?” MK quirked a brow at him.

“Yeeaaahh…”

“Heh, been there. Done that.” MK nodded, not that it was anything to be proud of.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mac looked at MK finally with a concerned expression.

“About you and him?? I mean..yeah he told me a lil..mostly just warned me to keep an eye out for you but…” MK rubbed the back of his neck out of nervous habit, shifting under the demon’s gaze.

“Of course he didn’t…” Mac sighed with a frown, “Well, maybe that’s where I can help you out. I know Wukong, he doesn’t exactly give you the full picture so easily, then again he’s never really had a student before either so.”

“So?”

‘So, he won’t just outright give you the benefit of the doubt just like that, especially if you just say you’ll give him whatever advice he wants. He’ll think you’re just trying to pull him from Wukong again or worse.’

“What I mean to say is, if you want to correct your form with that whole balancing thing, you should try putting less focus into just your foot, and put it towards your whole body.” Macaque stated plainly, his gaze shifting away back to the peach tree.

“Oh..uhm..alright?...Thanks???” MK blinked, none too sure what to make of that, but he wasn’t trying to kill him, or hurt his feelings so, maybe that was a good thing??

“Feel free to mention it to him…” Macaque claimed, his gaze softening before he got up finally and began to walk elsewhere.

“h-Wait!” MK called out, standing up right then. To which Macaque of course obliged, though he kept his back facing kid.

“..are you..like...being serious about that whole, ‘making amends’ thing?..” MK squinted at him suspiciously, even if Macaque could lie about his true intentions, MK at least thought it right to ask. Considering everything else…

“Yes.” Mac stated, his tail curling a little behind him.

“Ohkaaay... “ It was still hard to tell but, “Then why’re you trying to?-”

“Because he told me to.” Mac claimed, his head turning just enough to share a glance with the kid. “Don’t get the wrong idea..it was wrong of me, but.”

“Buuut?”

-------~-------

“But whatever you do, you gotta stop lyin’ about the real stuff.”

Mac grunted, that was probably gonna be the hardest trial of his to overcome. For him, lying was basically his day by day means of survival. “I think I’d rather cut my own tongue out at that point an be mute then cut that out.”

The chick shrugged, “Hey, I’m just sayin’. Honesty is the best policy. Even if it hurts to hear it, better said than left for dead. You want em to trust you again? You gotta earn it. A few pretty words ain’t never gonna be enough. You gotta put some effort behind em.”

“Uuuugh.” He rolled his eyes, already regretting having decided to go through with the whole thing. “Fine...but if I get my ass beat because someone couldn’t take the heat, I’ll hunt you down.”

“I’ll take that chance.” The chick smirked.

-------~-------

Macaque sighed, he could already imagine just how easy it’d be to screw up something so casually done by others. Century old lies he’d held onto for most his life being the worst one’s, with how gnarled they were from the many times they’d been knotted by his reasons to keep them from being undone by any means necessary. He’d run from them for such a long time though, enough to the point where he’d finally hit the end of his lead, and now he was forced to look back at the mess he’d caused.

It wasn’t a pretty sight at all.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t go back and try to fix some of it. Now matter how long it took, little by little. He just had to be careful in doing so or else he’d just get himself wrapped up in knots all over again.

“...I..” Just say it, even if it’s half the truth.

“I didn’t want to see you waste that potential under a guy who wouldn’t appreciate it...” Macaque claimed, his gaze shifting away.

That...was probably the first time MK had ever seen Mac show a genuine side of himself before. Even during training he’d been distant and strict, similar to Wukong but a lot less merciful in a spar. Where with Mac, bruises were lessons learned.

“...Thanks. For the uh..advice I mean.”

Macaque stiffened a little at the response, but he didn’t spoil it for fear of ruining what little ground he had on that bridge.

“Anytime.”

And then he was gone.

[jasonsthots]

Almost hiding the darkness within

I have no clue how to post this properly but here we go-

Big thanks to @jaybirdsdarling like without her I definitely couldn't have made this or even posted it so thanks babes 😘

Warnings- smut- lots of it, yandere peoples, slight noncon to dubcon? Violence, slight gun play, voyeurism, cuckolding--- basically bring your holy water (there might be more but not sure 😚)

It all started with the landing. Ya' know the one. That superhero landing. The one that looks like it really hurts the knees. When that, a brown leather jacket, red helmet wearing man landed like that in front of her like a human shield. Those that had been trying to mug her, knew it was over before it had started. Before they had a chance to run, he was on them. Limps, noses, all broken when he was done.

When he was done, he just simply stood up and turned to her. She was smiling dumbly, she knew that. Her cheeks hurt, dried tears stained her cheeks, nose stuffed from running and she was sure her hair was a mess from the tugging the men had done. But she didn't care, her savor was right there-

"Miss, always put your money away inside when it's given, not when you're outside. Honestly. I thought this was common knowledge." His mechanical voice rang through the alley as he passed by, his back now to her as he looked over one last time. "And especially not in an alleyway with 100 different kinds of graffiti." And with that, he grappled away.

Y/n's pout was deep as she looked on. Giving a swift kick to one of the robbers that laid on the pavement. "Maybe next time..."

_______

It was like she had planned it. He had to start watching her. He had to. She was like a magnet for trouble. It was almost a nightly thing. Like she would purposely find the most dangerous part in Gotham to go and act like a ditz. She wasn't though. She knew better. He'd seen it. The simple smacks she gave to guys at the diner who got too handsy. She wasn't defenseless. Yeah those were small slaps to the hands, but they were a sign that she definitely could handle herself enough to know not to go into that damn alley. And there she went. In the damn alley. So like he had for the past few weeks, he swung down.

He should know better. He has bigger problems. Like that big fuckin' mafia guy who's selling drugs, weapons and people for gods sake. But there he was. Once again, kicking ass for the same girl, night after night. The simple finger point doing nothing as this time, she walked up- and grabbed it. Bringing his hand close to her face and resting it on her cheek. An unfamiliar touch that had his heart swelling and any bit of anger he held to her disappear in an instant.

She looked up to where his white covered eyes were and smiled, the grime on her face and wrecked hair not taking from the beauty she possessed. Her eyes twinkled under the dim Gotham lights, her smile twisted, breathtaking. "You always seem to be here just in time huh?"

A groan was heard from the men at their feet, earning a kick from her.

Jason's eyebrow tweaked at her action, a small smile creeping to his lips.

"Seems like it, you should be more careful, doll."

A nickname that came so easily. Her heart accepted it with open arms as she pushed her body closer to his, craning her neck back to look at him properly. "But then, how else would I see you Red?"

The man smirked under his helmet, a low chuckle coming out almost like static from the voice changer. Him too taking a step forward. "So, you admit you do this on purpose?"

A low groan erupted from the men again, this time Red kicking them to silence. Y/n hummed and rested her other hand on his waist, their chest pressed gently to each other. "Is that bad? I didn't really know how to work a signal in the sky, so I settled."

"On getting mugged?" The black haired man asked amused, the girl shrugging in response with a small giggle. Jason couldn't hold the smile that spread across his cheeks as he finally snapped the helmet off, the domino mask coming as a disappointment to the shorter girl. Still, she appreciated having something more than an off putting helmet to get off to from now on.

"It worked didn't it?" She spoke softly as she caressed his now exposed cheek.

"There were safer ways." He spoke back, barely above a whisper as their faces neared. Jason felt like his heart would pound out of his chest. Did she really do that for just a chance to see him? She... put her life on the line- for the possibility to see him? That-

That was the nicest thing anyone had done for him.

"Worth it."

Just like that, those last few inches were gone, their lips finally meeting in a soft, heart warming kiss.

Cough. Cough. "Fuckin'-- psychopaths- uggh-" Kick.

_________

Weekly visits became nightly, nightly became daily, and before they knew it, they lived together. Suddenly it became as easy as breathing, being together. Y/n's dumb plans didn't need to happen to get his attention, he was already there. She had his number. She had him in her bed. She had him. Jason knew this. And he was thrilled. He was worried at first. Was he moving too fast? Slow? No. She reassured him. It was just the right pace. She felt the same. They felt like all the pieces to each other's puzzles were finally falling into place.

Until the day happened.

Y/n, was, to put it lightly, odd. The girl had intentionally gotten robbed multiple times just to talk to the guy for god's sake. This, of course, led to her developing a certain set of.....skills.

See, to the common eye it would have looked like she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But she always knew when to go. She knew when he was watching her and when there was something....more important than her that needed help. So when she felt a new set of eyes on her. She knew something was up. It wasn't the other Batfamily members. They honestly....had a hard time wrapping their heads around her and deemed her tolerable at best. No. These were prying eyes.

These eyes didn't leave her. No, no. They stayed. For weeks. She felt them. They were learning. Listening to everything she said, everything she did, seeing everywhere she went. They picked it all up. They were picking up any information from when she got off work to how long she took showers.

And she liked it.

She felt guilty. She felt dirty. She didn't know why she didn't tell Jason. He was her everything after all, and boy would he be furious if he were to learn such things were taking place.....yes....furious.

Boy would she not want that.

So there she was, her wrist tied to a cold metal chair. Her struggles are no longer a problem, her shit talking too due to the gag they placed after the hundredth "when my boyfriend finds out" shtick. Her blindfold long removed as the man responsible sat in front of her, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at every detail of her exposed skin. Her dress shredded into pieces from the whole ordeal. Y/n held back the smile that tried to spread as she saw him shuffling uncomfortably as his eyes raked over her lower half, her thighs that were spread wider from being tied to opposite legs. Her lower region on display.

The man cleared his throat as he scooted closer, his legs wedging in between her spread ones. The light shone perfectly to every curve of his dark covered face. The only seen color being his eyes and the tips of his cheeks. "So. Shackin' up with Red huh? It must be fun. I imagine you play his therapist a lot? Heard he has alotta daddy issues."

The tied girl let out a huff as she turned her head. How dare he speak like that. He has no idea what Jason has been through. To put it so lightly.

The man tilted to the side to meet her gaze that had turned cold. He laughed. "Oh what? Did I hurt your feelings? Suddenly you feelin' tough or somethin'?" He leaned forward. And that's when she finally gasped. The gag of course muffled it, adding to the already hard to breathe problem she was having. "Yeah. Don't be. Ain't in any position to be acting all high and mighty."

When his hand raised on to her shoulder, his thumb brushing against her pluses before wrapping his hand around her neck to face him, her mind couldn't care less about the man getting physical. The only thing she could think of was what she was looking at. How....she knew how. There was a man who looked like a human but was actually an alien flying around, anything was possible.

So this was the man. She had of course heard of him. Not only from her significant other, but she did use to live in a not so friendly neighborhood. Even then, if you didn't know who this was, well, welcome to Gotham, where there's a Bat running around and a man whose face is literally a black skull. Yes. Black mask.

She mumbled.

The man sighed heavily and took the gag out. "If you say one more thing about the fuckin' Redhood- I will say fuck this whole plan and just send your head instead."

"Just wanted to say I didn't know death took vacations."

The nicely suited man barked a laugh as he stood and straightened his jacket. Y/n's smirk fell as he lowered his face to level with her, his hand resting next to her head dangerously close. "It's going to be fun breaking you."

____________

Jason was losing it. He had pretty much torn the house brick by brick searching for her. His love. His doll. His darling. She wasn't here. She hadn't been for days. Weeks? God what was he kidding. He knew exactly how long. He felt it. When she was taken. Like a sixth sense. He knew something was up. And sure enough, when he got home- she was gone.

He should have put the tracker in. He had talked to her about it, and she agreed to do it. It was safer. But he just...never got around to actually doing it. He had thought about performing some light surgery on her arm, nothing major, just putting it in her arm. That was a bit much. He had thought about putting it into a needle and doing it that way. Decided he didn't want to hurt her. Wanted to put it in her food. Didn't want her to choke. Thought about in a small box! Didn't want her to freak out and think he was proposing. So- here he was. Panicking because he had no idea where she was, if she was alive, and why she was even gone in the first place.

Jason tried to keep his mind from going to a dark place. The place that wondered if it was on purpose. She'd done it before. Stressed him out by putting her life on the line. He thought it was cute almost. "It's not cute anymore." He spoke to no one. The house was in ruins. His fists were bloodied and bruised from all the ass he'd been beating. There were no leads for weeks. Every stone was turned but nothing made sense. Friends couldn't get a word in, Jason created this whole new world where it was just him. "It's not fuckin'- cute- any- more-!" Each scream coming with a new hit, objects and people blending together. He was getting to that place.

What if she actually left? Not a game she played. Not some weird attention seeking act. She.....left.

It wasn't looking good, and it just kept getting worse.

__________

Her h/c sweat covered hair was swooped to the side, her fight dying down. There was no use, it was going to happen either way. "C'mon, don't pretend you don't like it, doll."

She winched. "What? Isn't that what he called you? Doll? Nothing special about it, you are a fucktoy after all." A laugh ripped from Roman's bare chest at his own twisted joke.

Yeah. There he was. Proud of the almost broken woman in front of him, naked and in charge of the situation. The blinking light at the end of the bed was a reminder of how fucked she really was. Both figuratively and literally. His fingers were gilding through her folds with an ease she was ashamed of. The sounds made making her stomach turn. She didn't like this. She wasn't turned on. She didn't want him......

These were the things she used to tell herself.

She was ashamed at how quickly she had felt herself give in. Was that what she always wanted? To be used as some fucktoy for some scumbag that hurt and used her and others however he wanted?

God no. She couldn't have.

She wanted Jason.

Then why....

Why did she spread her legs wider?

They spread as far as she could get them, her soaked core on full display for the camera to see, the man behind it zooming in as they themselves got closer. Getting a quiet growl like warning from Roman not to get too close.

The moans that followed were nothing short of pornographic. Her back was arched off the bed as her legs shook, those wrist restraints keeping her from getting a hold on the man who was putting her through euphoric torture. "Roman..." Her whimper sent a shock straight to the man's cock.

On full attention it stood, bobbing up and down as he moved to unhook her, repositioning her to face the camera on all fours. Her face was.....sinful. Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth gaping opening, her hair tousled. Her body was even still shaking from her previous orgasms leading to her almost falling as Roman began his painfully fast and hard thrust. Her moans rippled straight from her chest out of her throat. His hand wrapped around her hair and yanked it back, her chest heaving and back painfully arched. Sweat dripped off their bodies from what seemed like hours long of pure fucking. His other hand came to her front to rub at her clit in fast motions that had her hips bucky in an unruly way as they couldn't find out to get away or push back. Opting for the latter.

She met his thrust hungrily every time as best she could, the room filled with moans and the sound of skin slapping together at harsh speeds. Roman's pace was unforgiving, it didn't let up after the next orgasms hit her.

"Where should I do it now, huh? You want me to cum in your tight hole again? You can't waste it like you did last time though. If you do, you won't be getting my cock for a long time. And a whore needs their masters cock now don't they?"

Y/n's mouth formed wide Os as she tried to form some words to satisfy him. "Fuck- yes Roman- fuck I promise-" Her moans ripped through. "T-to no-not waste any-of- ohh~"

This seemed to be enough because the next thing she knew, she felt it. His cock twitched violently as his hips lost rhythm, his cum spilling inside of her, filling her once more. His grip on her scalp burned, but she didn't stop from that twisted and sinister smile to spread on her face as she grinded her hips back. A sharp slap being delivered to her ass cheeks as Roman barked out at her, "Stop being such a cock whore." This threatening tone dropped almost immediately as he soon laughed, grappling her chin and tilting her back to kissing her, a sloppy wet heat filled kiss. "Now that video's a keeper."

_____________

Jason finally lost it. Be felt dumb. He felt hurt. He felt utterly betrayed. His sweet, poor darling- the actual fucking cumslut. For Roman. Sionis. He had been hunting her down for months. And there she was. Accepting- no asking- no- begging for Black masks cock. For his cum. The things she did for Jason, she was now doing for that scum. He was pissed. How fucking dare she? After all he's done for her? No- he couldn't think that way. There was no way. It was his darling. His doll. She loved him too much for that. No. It was all an act. It had to be. She would never do that to him.

This is what he wanted to believe as he watched the hour long videos that kept making their way to him. Her lips wrapped hungerly around another man's cock. Being pulled away just for her to stick her tongue out to get another taste, receiving a slap to her cheek. "Don't be such a greedy slut." Was Romans words.

Videos on videos of Roman fucking Jason's girl. Cum filling up every hole the scum could want, all eagerly accepted from the girl he swore would be crying to be saved, instead relishing in the fuck fest she was dealt.

His fist clenched around his cock, furiously stroking away. God he missed her.

Her face was covered in the white ropes, her mouth taking in as much as it could as Roman pumped himself in her face. Jason fucking hated it. But god did she look fucking hot. He hated it. He hated him. He hated her. But that didn't stop him from unloading on his computer screen. His brow furrowed as pure rage coursed through his blood. He was getting her back. And she would see who she fuckin' really belonged too.

______________

Y/n knew it wouldn't be long. She played with herself, her fingers dancing across her wet slit showing just how wet she was. Her moans gentle as she spread her legs wider for the camera. "C'mon closer, get nice and in there." Her voice coaxed, of course Roman shouting orders for the camera man not to move. Her pout aimed towards the angered man. "Well if you won't let him touch me will you at least? You know I can't do it myself, you ruined me Roman~" She cooed.

The man in question groaned out and walked over, his cock next to her face as he claimed to a kneeling position on the bed. "Well, warm me up first, doll."

"Yes sir~" Her free hand came up to stroke the semi next to her. Her smile was anything but sweet and innocent like she feigned. Her tongue poking out to taste the precum that had been building up from the show. "But it looks like you're already good to go." The wink that came after did something different to Roman. God. When had he become so fuckin' turned on by watching her? When did he get so hard by her just existing? When did he want to see her asking- begging for him and it not being about fuckin' with the hood?

He wasn't sure. But he didn't hate the feeling. Especially when he buried his cock deep inside her. Her legs were spread and the angle was perfect, her back to him and front to the camera. Was this guy a director or what? Surely this would make the hood pissed off. Even if not- damn was she a good fucktoy.

_________

It wasn't the middle of the night. No. It was broad daylight when he broke in. It had taken him way too long for his liking. He had gotten a dozen more videos before he had finally found Black masks place. It's not like he could have asked for backup, they wouldn't understand. Not like they cared for her anyway. No, he had to do it on his own. And damn was that a good idea.

'Cause there he was. Bullets flying everywhere. It didn't matter who, how many. Each one had a special bullet for them in his head. Each one of these fuckers responsible for her kidnapping. Her torture. Torture. That's what it was. She didn't like it. She hated- she hated it. Yeah. She hated it. Was ridiculous how many times he had to remind himself of that. Yeah the videos were convincing. But he knew her better than those videos. He knew she wouldn't actually be begging for scum like that.

"You ruined me, Roman~"

Kept replaying in his head. That same line.

"I'll fucking show you ruined."

_______________

There they were. Two guns. One trained on a man in a designer italian suit. The other trained to an all to calm on the inside girl. "Now now. You wouldn't want to waste your time just by having me kill her would you?" Roman threatened, the gun he held pushing further into the girls head, the same gun Jason had seen her sucking on in multiple videos.

The Y/n's head was throbbing. Not just from the gun in her head but because she was- so excited.

She really played the long game, huh?

Jason clenched the gun tighter. His mask was doing a great job of keeping it together, because he certainly wasn't. "How 'bout you just make this easier for both of us and. Let. Her. Go. Like you said- I don't want to waste my time." Whether you were on the receiving end or not- it sent chills down their spines and a certain tingle down below for the h/c haired girl.

Roman clenched his jaw tight. His arm that's as wrapped around her tighter as he backed up. And backed up. And backed up. "Now now Sionis. I've never taken you for someone who'd rather kill themselves then hand someone over. Must have really gotten desperate." His last words a growl as his eyes flicked to the girl in his arms.

Roman looked down, his arms more....slack as they fell more into a hug from behind. His eyes softened. "You have no idea..." The girl met his eyes with the same fondness.

Red. No not Jason's helmet. The color he saw. Pure rage rippled through him as he pulled the trigger. Not once. Not twice. Over and over and over again, unloading a clip that not only undoubtedly killed Roman ten times over, but regrettably, knocking both out of the large window that laid behind them. As fast as the rage was there it disappeared, leaving only panic as Jason launched out of the window without a thought other than, "God- no!"

Was it?

Worth it? That's what she was thinking. Y/n. As the smirk crept to her face, placing one last kiss on her now corpse kidnapper and lover, she pushed him further, a subtle pay back for his words and treatment to her for the last months she had spent with him. Her arms wide open as he hit the ground first. Her eyes slowly closing, the wind whipping by.

"Worth it."

___________

She was an odd one. The Batfamily deemed her actually crazy. Jason never listened. Why would he? She had such a good heart. She supported him in his vigilante ways. She had even said she might join him. She understood what it took to get what you want. Maybe that's why he wasn't so pissed at her. Because he finally understood as he watched her naked sleeping form on their bed. Right where it belonged. She wanted all of this. He should have seen it. The very first smile that almost hid the darkness within. Twisted, yet so sweet. Like cyanide in candy. He knew from the beginning she wasn't a normal girl.

But then again, he wasn't a normal guy.

But there was still punishment to be dealt.

Y/n awoke with a harsh yank to her ankle, her ass suddenly on the edge of the bed. Forcibly sat up, her eyes level with the stomach of the man she had been missing. Her eyes met the storm that raged through Jason's eyes and he grabbed her chin to look at him. Even out of her peripheral vision she could see he was fully nude, her bottom lip finding a place in between her teeth as a smile took over. "Hey Jay." She cooed.

He was ashamed at how eager his cock was the moment his name left her mouth. His eyes glared daggers at her as his grip tightened. "Don't act like that." She opened her mouth, spewing bullshit like always. But he wouldn't let her. Not this time. "Like you're this innocent sweet heart. No. You're not that are you? You haven't been for a long time, if ever."

She let out a mock offended gasp. "Jay....he did bad things, that has to count for something. He made me do so many bad things to him." She pouted, her puppy dog eyes that would normally get him having no effect- at least not the kind she was hoping for.

His palm slipped from her chin to her neck, lifting her slightly with the force as he bent at the waist. "Baby, I got all the videos. The only forcing I saw was him trying to fit his cock into your tight pussy. But you still begged him for it. Because you wanted it."

He was shocked to see her eyes hood at the memory, her lust filled look deepening. His stomach turning from it. "It did feel pretty good to be stretched out again. It had been so long." Fire burned through him as he practically threw her on the ground to her knees. He didn't let her settle before he had her by the hair, forcing her mouth to open as he shoved his fully ready to go dick down her throat. The action making her gag and fling her hands to his thighs. He caught her hands and held them with one hand while the other dragged her head back and further on his length.

"How fucking dare you?" He spat with venom. "Do you know how fucking worried I was? Huh? Just to find out you're just being a whore----- to that fucking low life!?" Y/n couldn't answer, her throat being abused by his unpleasantly harsh thrust that was gonna make it hard to talk later. Her breathing was already none existent.

"So many fucking weeks." He groaned out, his eyes finally looking down. Her eyes already meeting his stormy blue ones, tears spilling down her cheeks. Her mouth stretched painfully full. But she never made a move to leave. No. She was taking this punishment like a champ. "So many months of me searching for you. Then I see uggh--" Her tongue ran along the under part of his shaft, clearly he wasn't deep enough. So he pushed further. Her breathing became hard with each thrust. "Then he sends those fucking videos. You begged for his cum princess. You fuckin' cried for it. You wanted it all. Inside you. On you. You wanted to taste it mixed with yours. Well don't worry doll." Her lips moved, unable to smile properly around him, her heart swelling. She missed him.

His grip tightened as he leaned down slightly, his cock going impossibly further down, her lips touching the base, breathing no longer an option as he smirked down. "You'll finally get daddy's cum, the cum you really needed. And maybe if you're good, I'll let you cum too, so you can suck it off me again." And with that, he stood up straight, let her catch some of her breath, then fucked her mouth until he felt that much needed relief spill down her throat. Coating the back in white liquid with a loud throaty groan.

He released her head which she immediately swung back, hand to her chest as she greedily gulped down air. But not for a moment longer than needed. She was back in front of him stroking him, her eyes leaking tears as her legs became soaked with the flood that was her arousal. "Thank you sir." She smiled.

Why was he so pissed off at her smile? Because. It was the same smile- the same mouth Roman had used. He needed to make her his all over again. She was his. He picked her up by her arm and tossed her to the bed. "You're not done yet." He gruffed out as he pushed her chest to the bed and pulled her ass up. "How many times?" He asked running his two fingers along her slit collecting all the juices that poured out.

She poked her head around. "I'm....not sure?"

He scoffed. "You let him cum so much in you, you don't even remember?" Her head nodded slowly. He whistled lowly. "Well. I cause that just means we have a long night don't we?"

The excitement- genuine excitement that she radiated was almost enough to make him no longer pissed off. Almost. "But remember." He leaned forward, his hands going to her hips as he massaged them. Placing gentle kisses down her spine and along her shoulder. The more than welcomed touch considering the past few months spent with pure hate fucking and all around rough sex. "You still get punishment for being such a cock whore." Too soon.

His soft touches left almost immediately followed by harsh smacks to the ass. Before she knew it her ass was almost the same red as his helmet, only occasionally palming it to slightly sooth the pain. But this wasn't a pleasant punishment ment to make you more turned on. No. It was harsh and real. She knew she did wrong. She knew she needed to be punished. But boy did it fucking hurt. By the time he was done, she was a sobbing mess. Her ass would be sore for sure. But it was all worth it as the tip of his cock pushed past her puffy folds into her tight heat. A long vulgar moan was realized from both parties as he sat for a moment, relishing in the feeling he missed so much.

His hands gripped her tightly as he pumped every last inch of himself he could. The movement so painfully slow but so necessary. They needed each other. She didn't realize how hard it was being without him. But she was so fuckin' happy when he came to her. She held out and here they were. One again. She loved him, and he loved her. It was fucked up. But- they did.

His veins dragged deliciously inside her tight walls, the tip of his dick hitting that one spot just right. "I- ohhh- missed you Jay-" She moaned out softly.

Jason's pace was slow and gentle, just enjoying the feeling of being inside her. Fuck did he miss her too. "You better have." But it wasn't anymore. The speed picked up along with the force and before she knew it, she was a sobbing blubbering mess. Her only thought- Jason's cock ruining her. "Now. I'm going to ask a question." He reached down and wrapped a hand around her throat, bringing her back up to his chest. The angle made her cry out. "And you better answer the right way." His speed picked up as he guided her back into his thrusts. Each word emphasized with a harsh thrust. "Who do you belong to?"

It was a simple question. One they both knew. One she should have never made him question. One that from day one, they both knew the answer. There was never an option. There would never be an option.

"You." She breathed out, her stomach making a familiar feeling. Her walls clenching and unclenching with every harsh thrust of Jason's ruthless hips.

His grip tightened before flipping her over to her back, her legs immediately being upped to his shoulders, the new position making her scream out in pure pleasure. "Not good enough, doll." He growled, his lips latching onto her neck and shoulder. Marking the answer down...

She gripped the bedsheets as her back arched into him. "I'm yours Jason! Only yours I fuckin' swear it!" And with that, Jason smiled. His hand reached between to rub her clit and a matching pace.

"Good girl. You're mine." He leans down to her ear, pecking behind it. "and I'm yours." One final kiss to her lips and she melted. Her walls squeezed and her eyes rolled back. Her orgasm washed over her like no other as her legs threatened to capture and never let go of Jason. His high soon followed and he let himself go freely in her. Every last drop would stay there. Because she was his. And he was hers.

________

"We're not done yet princess."