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[hcneymooners]

⋆ our bodies, two wounds of love.

bodyguard!sevika x f!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: as the youngest daughter of a highly famous businessman, you're not at all what sevika is expecting upon receiving her assignment.

cw: modern setting, soft!sevika, reader is sugar sweet and slightly shy, reader has long hair, obsessive behavior, dubious consent, as in reader wakes sevi up properly like the eater she is but sevi consents when she wakes up, somnophilia, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, implied/referenced sex, via toys, implied strapping as god intended, overstimulation, impact play, it's pussy slapping, nipple play, squirting and vaginal ejaculation, praise kink, pet names, dom/sub undertones, minor violence, reader speaks german in this for no other reason than i've been watching the empress., soft dom!sevika, love confessions, near-death experiences, non-sexual intimacy, age difference, older woman/younger woman, mommy issues, implied lmfao, makeup sex, arguing, resolved sexual tension, masturbation in bathroom, accidental voyeurism notes: this is set to american by lana del rey. listen here. this is more emotionally heavy, but definitely my favorite. does this plot barely make sense? yes. but is the reward worth it? yes. this is a repost.

out of all her clients, you were the easiest.

sevika shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was, given the research she’d conducted. you were the youngest of four daughters, and the public fed off your penchant for privacy. finding someone like you in her line of work was a rarity: no scandals to cover up, no carefully curated drama for the tabloids. your reputation preceded you—sweet, quiet, and often tired. a homebody, mel had said with an almost indulgent smirk when sevika was handed the assignment.

“you’re lucky,” she added. “the others are a handful.”

sevika didn’t believe in luck.

the flat where she first met you was a monument to your family’s wealth. still it was tasteful—ornate without being garish, quiet grandeur woven into every polished surface. it was the kind of space that swallowed sound and softened the world's edges.

your apartment was beautiful in a way that felt intentional but not performative. soft cream and powder blue walls were traced with delicate vines and florals, the details long faded. it wasn’t pristine—scuffs on the wooden floor and fingerprints smudged onto the low, sculptural table in the center—but it was lived-in, loved in a way that gave the space its warmth.

the table itself was an anchor—organic and raw, its uneven edges smoothed by time, surrounded by cushions in muted grays and pale pinks that had lost some of their color to the steady heat of the sun. a shelf of books stretched to the ceiling, its rows crowded with novels and photography volumes, with stacks of loose papers and half-burnt cigarettes scattered between them. the window beside it was cracked open just enough to let in the sound of rustling leaves, the faint scent of rain-soaked greenery curling through the room like an invisible flatmate.

golden lamps shaped like oversized fans stood at either end of the space, their light pooling onto the woven rug beneath. it cast the room in a kind of half-glow—soft, forgiving—blurring the edges of things just enough to make them feel closer. there was something fragile about how it all fit together like it had been arranged for someone who might leave it behind at any moment.

and yet, it felt distinctly like you. the powdered jasmine in the air, the book splayed open on the armchair, the small dish of rings by the window—it was a home that asked nothing of you but to exist in it. sevika’s stormy gaze caught on an abandoned note on the window sill, the script delicate and curling.

cochem, it read. i miss you. i want to come back to you. i want to disappear inside of you and have you love me again. i want to get lost in the german morning. no one will ever know me, and i’ll be happy, less unfulfilled.

she fingered the edges of the paper, sun-bleached and flaking. then she began to walk again, navigating to what looked like the open door of your study.

you were waiting for her inside, perched in an armchair too big for your frame, as if the room had been designed to diminish you. at first glance, you looked as delicate as the furniture you sat on, barefaced and bathed in soft afternoon light that filtered through sheer curtains. it was the kind of light that made everything look fragile and translucent.

you wore an ivory blouse, thin and shimmering with embroidery that seemed to grow out of the fabric like frost patterns on glass. the neckline skimmed your collarbones, modest but deliberate, while the sleeves flared past your wrists, draping like petals. the cinched waist and pale drawstrings might have belonged to someone dressing for comfort, but on you, it was something else entirely—careless elegance.

the sweatpants should have broken the illusion. they didn’t. instead, they made you seem more unreachable, more unstudied. as if you’d wandered into this world from somewhere else—someplace softer—and were still too young to realize you didn’t belong.

sevika lingered in the doorway for a beat longer than she meant to, her presence large enough to make the room feel smaller. she expected you to bristle at the intrusion, to draw yourself up with the same cool hauteur that so often marked women of your standing. but you didn’t.

you looked up at her, eyes wide and unguarded, and smiled.

“hello,” you said. your voice was so soft, as though you feared disturbing her.

sevika’s eyes swept over you, cataloging every detail: the way your hair—long and heavy—spilled over your shoulders, catching the faint streaks of the incoming light; the way your blouse seemed to ripple as you moved, fabric clinging like a whisper to your skin.

“i’m sevika,” she said finally, voice low and steady. “your father hired my team's services to protect your family. i’ll be your bodyguard.”

you nodded and rose from the chair, the movement unhurried and deliberate. you smoothed your palms over the sides of your sweatpants—grey, nondescript, somehow lovely in the context of you—and stepped closer. you smelled faintly of something soft and fleeting: fresh linen, maybe, or soap.

“it’s nice to meet you,” you said, extending your hand, sincerity tucked neatly into every word.

sevika didn’t take it right away. there was something strange about you—something that tugged at her instincts and told her to look closer. your face was open, unguarded, but there was a sadness there, too, stitched into the curve of your mouth, in the way your lashes fell low. she watched the way you stood there, chin lifted just enough to suggest poise but not pride, eyes wide and unguarded as they searched hers for something she wasn’t used to giving.

trust.

and for the first time in a long while, sevika found herself unsure of what to do. you weren’t like the others, all obvious disdain and high expectations. nothing was demanding about you—nothing calculated or sharp. just the soft curve of your mouth, the quiet pull of your gaze, and a kindness she didn’t quite know how to meet.

she clasped your hand firmly but briefly, clearing her throat as she stepped back.

“we should go over security protocol,” she said gruffly, falling back into professionalism as a defense.

you only nodded, that same soft smile still lingering. “of course. whatever you need.”

whatever you need.

sevika didn’t believe in luck, but standing there, looking down at you—your long lashes fluttering as you turned your gaze away, the afternoon light casting faint shadows through the sheer sleeves of your blouse—she wondered, for just a second, if this was as close to it as she would ever get.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

it took three years for both of you to understand that your relationship had outgrown the typical bounds of client and employee. yes, intimacy was inevitable given the circumstances, but even a stranger would’ve seen something uncanny about how you and sevika were… connected, even for a bodyguard.

love affairs always look different to those inside them. you thought nothing of how deeply you needed her, how fondness for her had quietly rooted itself in you. sevika risked her body—her life—to keep you from harm, and it felt natural to bond, to grow into one another. time spent apart became more agonizing only relieved by the hours you were together, yet you ignored the weight of it.

your sisters often spoke of it, though only behind closed doors. you rarely engaged in their chatter. you had always been this way: dreamy, untethered, with a mind like mist and the heart of a prey animal. lame, your mother had called you, her voice sharp with disappointment. sickly, she added, as if naming your frailty might cure it. over time, it became easier to withdraw, to wrap yourself in silence, and let the world chatter on without you.

but with sevika, life required less effort. you rediscovered a tenderness for the act of living in her presence. she was patient, grounding. she found you tolerable even at your worst, and for that, you adored her. no one else had made you feel this way—not men, not women.

while you preferred women, you had dabbled with men, more out of curiosity than desire. it felt clinical, an attempt to decode them like puzzles, perhaps to better understand why you and your father clashed. women, on the other hand, unraveled you.

the realization of your love came in two parts. the first arrived in the languid quiet of a holiday evening at your family’s upstate estate.

you had overexerted yourself in a lagree class, and sevika, ever watchful, had drawn you a warm bath. you watched her through the crack of the bathroom door, your gaze catching on the soft swell of her hips, the worn strength in her movements as she stretched after finishing readying the bed for sleeping. you often shared when traveling. she sat on the edge of it, her familiar perch, closest to the door. she always did this.

it was the smallest things about her that undid you: the way her hair slipped loose from its strict ponytail, the gentle sway of the gold chain brushing against her collarbones. you’d bought her that chain during a weekend in stockholm. now, the sight of it filled you with a sudden, vicious envy. you wanted to be that close to her—always.

the need consumed you. your body buzzed with an unnamed energy, teetering on the edge of itself. you wanted to crawl out of your skin and into hers, to dissolve completely against her warmth. you wanted her blood to run through your veins, her marrow to fuse with yours. your desire was feral, deranged, trembling like a dying pathetic thing.

without thinking, your hand slipped between your thighs. the thought of her—the sharpness of her profile, the tender press of her hands on your waist at the farmer’s market earlier—burned in your mind. you focused on the ridge of her nose, her beautiful nose. everything about her pleased you.

your fingertips pressed harder into the rosy pearl of your clit, and with a wounded cry, you came undone, trembling, your gaze locked on her through the crack in the door.

as if summoned by your thoughts, sevika lifted her head and met your eyes. her stern gaze pinned you, and you sank beneath the water with sudden embarrassment, your skin flush with heat.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

the next morning, your pleasure still lingered via a morning glow on your skin. you woke to find sevika beside you, her strong shoulders rising and falling with the rhythm of her sleep. you lifted a hand and stroked her brow, cooing softly as she murmured from somewhere deep within her sleep.

she, you thought, is every woman i’ve ever wanted.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

the second realization came during an attempt to kill you.

you were the chosen target—a calculated decision. your public image, carefully nurtured by those who sought to use you, made your death a tragedy worth orchestrating. the explosive had been hidden cleverly in the heart of your favorite restaurant, the one you frequented for its thick slices of fresh bread and macadamia milk.

when it detonated, your world fractured. your vision blurred, your ears rang, and blood trickled warm and sticky down your face. the floor rose to meet you, the lacquered wood pressing cold against your cheek. the world went in and out like the weak signal of a radio. someone was screaming—it might have been your mother, though you doubted she cared enough to wail like that.

through the haze, a hand cupped your jaw, firm but careful, and your head was turned until your eyes locked on sevika’s. her gray gaze steadied you, cutting through the chaos. you raised a hand, your french manicured tips trailing lightly against her cheek. one of them, you noticed, was broken.

“[name]. [name], look at me. don’t take your eyes off me.”

“vika,” you whispered, the name slipping from your lips like a prayer. for the first time, you saw fear flicker across her face.

“it’s me,” she said softly. “you’re going to be fine, but i need to get you up. i need to get you out of here.”

you didn’t want to move. here, cradled in her hands, was where you wanted to stay.

“i can hold you, princess,” she murmured, her voice impossibly tender. “if that’s what you want. but i have to move you first. deep breath, okay? here we go.”

she lifted you as though you weighed nothing, her strength unyielding. you clung to her, your broken nails digging into her skin as she carried you through the wreckage. bodies lay strewn across the floor, and your heart broke when you recognized the familiar face of a favorite server.

“it’s okay,” sevika said, her voice a steady anchor. “look at me. just keep looking at me.”

and you did. your gaze drifted to the soft curve of her throat; your face tilted toward her as though she were the sun.

when she laid you on the stretcher, a terrible fear seized you. you reached for her, desperation clawing at your chest.

“stay with me. bitte. bitte, ich flehe dich an.”

sevika froze. if it had been anyone else, she might have refused and headed back to assess the security breach. but it wasn’t anyone else. it was you.

“i’m right behind you, sweetheart,” she promised, her hand pressing firmly to your stomach. “right behind you. just in that car.”

“danke, vika,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “du bist das, was ich brauche. nur du.”

even as the ambulance doors closed, your eyes never left her. you focused on the faint hum of her engine trailing behind you, the sound steady against the fevered rush of your heart.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

sevika was unforgiving after that, and you selfishly enjoyed the over-attention.

she stole you away, back to your flat, and hovered. always within reach, always watching, her presence as constant as the air you breathed. you hated it. you loved it.

she insisted on being in the room while you bathed, while you ate, while you tried to pretend your body wasn’t trembling from the aftershocks of the explosion. the weight of her gaze pressed into your skin like a second layer. she dressed your wounds with quiet efficiency, her fingers steady but firm, and even when you flinched, she refused to soften her touch.

“you should’ve told me this one was hurting,” she murmured one evening, crouched at your side with a damp cloth in hand. her voice was scolding, but there was an undercurrent of something wounded beneath it—something that hadn’t healed properly since the restaurant.

“it’s fine,” you said, looking anywhere but at her.

“it’s not fine,” she snapped, gripping your wrist a little too tightly before loosening her hold. “you don’t tell me when you’re in pain. you don’t—” she stopped herself, shaking her head as if to clear it.

her jaw worked, muscles tight, and you stared at the curve of her throat as she leaned over you, wiping dried blood away with the kind of precision that only made your chest ache.

“you’re smothering me,” you said softly, more to yourself than her, but her head snapped up like you’d struck her.

“you almost died,” she bit out, and the words made you flinch harder than her grip.

“but i didn’t,” you countered, hating the way your voice trembled.

you could be such a child. it crippled you, your desire to please her, to be less burdensome. she’d kill you if she knew what you were thinking. thank god it was your secret.

sevika’s lips parted, but no words came. just that unfaltering, infuriating look—one that said she knew better, that she always knew better, and that you knew this to be true. you raised a finger, traced the glistening edges of her teeth. she kept her mouth open; she never bit down.

and then one evening, you decided you’d had enough.

“i’m going out,” you said, pulling a thick coat of fur—vintage—over your shoulders.

sevika, seated in the chair by the window, didn’t look up from the blade she was sharpening. “no, you’re not.”

“yes, i am,” you replied, voice clipped.

her eyes flicked up to meet yours, the air thickening.

“why would i agree to that?” she asked, standing slowly, her full height suddenly overwhelming in the small space. “why would i let you walk out of here after i almost lost you last time?”

you laughed bitterly, shaking your head.

“let me? you’re not my keeper, vika.”

“really?” she said, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous octave. “should we do another read of my contact? i’m the person who pulled you out of the rubble. i’m the person who’s been keeping you alive, no thanks to your recklessness.”

“recklessness?” you snapped, whirling to face her fully. “if you’ve learned anything these past years, it is that i am rarely reckless. you promised me. you said you wouldn't be another dictator. you know what my life’s been like. i am allowed to have a life outside of this, outside of what has happened to me.”

her nostrils flared, and for a moment, she just stared at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“you think i’m doing this for me?” she asked, her voice rough, uneven. “you think i like this?”

“yes,” you spat, the frustration spilling out of you in an unstoppable wave. “this is the most excitement i’ve given you. you must think i’m so fucking boring all of the time. so, yes, i think you’re enjoying it. it makes you feel important. ”

something in her cracked. she closed the distance between you in two steps, her hand shooting out to grip your chin, tilting your face up to hers.

“i'm enjoying this?” she growled, her breath hot against your skin. “watching you get hurt? wondering if this time i’ll be too late? don’t mistake my care for control.”

her grip softened, her thumb brushing your jaw, and suddenly, the room felt unbearably small. you could see the pulse in her throat, the heat in her gaze as her eyes searched yours.

“sevika,” you said. your self-righteousness had passed, and you were so deeply ashamed. “vika, that was unfair. i’m sorry. forgive me.”

her hand dropped to your waist, pulling you closer until you could feel the solid warmth of her body against yours. her breath was shallow, her jaw tight, but her eyes—god, her eyes. they burned with something that made your knees weak.

“bitte,” you whispered.

“i’m trying,” she said, her voice trembling, “to keep you safe. to keep myself from—”

she cut herself off, her gaze flicking to your lips. and before you could say anything, before you could breathe, her mouth was on yours.

the kiss was searing, all teeth and desperation, her hand tightening on your waist as if she was afraid you might disappear. you gasped against her, your hands finding their way to her shoulders, her neck, her hair. but just as quickly as it began, it ended. she pulled back, her breathing ragged, her eyes dark and stormy.

“don’t push me like that again,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

and then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her, leaving you alone with the echo of her touch.

you crumpled like a paper doll and began to sob. outside, sevika, having turned back, pressed her forehead against the wall. absent-mindedly, the fingers of her prosthetic twitched and aborted their motions, jerking against the door as if fighting to feel you there.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

you needed to repay her for your abhorrent behavior.

you tried through what you knew: lavish breakfasts, waking up early to purchase her favorite flowers and sweets. you’d even carefully cleaned and oiled her prosthetic. sevika said nothing, if only not to further provoke your guilt, but you could tell she felt it was unnecessary. she was always too easy on you.

the universe, however, seemed to agree with you, and the opportunity to protect sevika came faster than you ever expected.

it was another attempt, this time at a crowded gala in the heart of the city. you hadn’t wanted to go, but sevika had insisted—you wanted to go out. besides, you need to be seen. send a message. and she had been there, of course, always in the background, a silent shadow at your side.

you saw the glint of the blade before she did.

it was instinct. your body moved before your mind caught up, and suddenly, you were between sevika and the would-be assassin, your arm jerking upward to deflect the strike with the heavy bracelet you wore. the metal screeched against the blade, and a sharp pain radiated up your arm, but you didn’t falter.

with your other hand, you snatched a knife from the cocktail table behind you. it was small but sharp, and you used it without hesitation. you didn’t feel the burn of the blade as it nicked your palm on the thrust; you only felt the sickening resistance of flesh before the assailant crumpled at your feet.

“get down!” sevika’s voice was a thunderclap, her hand gripping your shoulder as she shoved you behind her. she moved with terrifying precision, her body a blur of strength and fury as she assessed the situation in seconds.

the room was instantly bursting with chaos. a flash of silver caught your eye as sevika swung her prosthetic arm, sending one of the other assailants sprawling. blood slicked the floor, and the copper tang of it hung heavy in the air. your ears rang with the cacophony of fists, steel, and slit flesh.

you shouldn’t have done that; you knew this. the headlines would be more than money could hide.

“fuck!” sevika’s voice cut through the din, sharp and furious, as she turned to find you standing there, breathing hard, your hands stained red. “what the hell did you do?”

“i—i had to,” you stammered, your chest heaving. “you didn’t see him—”

she grabbed your arm, dragging you toward the far side of the room where the air was clearer and less stifling. the fight was dwindling; the attackers were now being rounded up by security, but sevika’s fury was just beginning.

“what were you thinking?” she hissed, her voice trembling. “do you have a death wish?”

you ripped your arm from her grasp, your own anger bubbling to the surface.

“i was saving you! or would you rather i let him stab you in the back?”

“i don’t need you to save me!” she snapped, stepping closer, her broad shoulders towering over you.

“maybe i need to,” you shot back, tears pricking at your eyes. “i refuse to just sit here and watch you die for me. i won’t. you can’t ask that of me.”

her expression faltered, the rage in her eyes dimming, replaced by something heavier, something more understanding. she often forgot how young you were.

“princess, it's not—you don’t understand,” she said. “if anything happened to you—”

“you’d what?” you interrupted, your voice wavering as you stared up at her. “fall apart? i wouldn’t be any different, vika. you're far from inconsequential. i could not survive a world without you.”

the silence between you was deafening. her gaze dropped to your trembling hands, still clutching the bloodied knife, and she let out a low, shuddering breath. more security personnel arrived, breaking the stalemate. the room was secured, and sevika took that as her cue to remove you from the premises, dragging you through the back corridors, her hand iron-tight around your wrist.

the moment the door to your shared suite slammed shut, she spun on you. her eyes glistened as she glared at you, her body taut like a bowstring.

“you don’t get it, do you?” she said, stepping closer. “i can’t—” she broke off, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“you can’t what?” you asked, shifting toward her. “vika, tell me.”

her jaw worked, the muscles in her neck tightening as she tried to hold herself together.

“i feel like i’m so close to losing you,” she said finally, her voice low and broken.

the words hit you like a punch to the chest.

“you won’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i can’t be without you in any way. i won’t allow it.”

her eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. the space between you was so heavy. all you wanted was to smooth the worried line of her forehead, to share water with her, and wipe her clean.

“you can’t promise that,” she said finally.

you watched as she turned from you and slipped into the bathroom to begin getting ready for bed.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

she woke up with your head between her thighs.

sevika might’ve been more pleased about it if it wasn’t in the middle of the night. still, it wasn’t the worst way to come to.

the warmth spidered from her thighs to her hips before coiling tightly in her stomach. her eyes fluttered open, disoriented and struggling to focus. she heard you first: the wet suck of your mouth against her swollen, brown folds. you moaned somewhere deep and hidden in your chest, your hands tightening around the thickness of her thighs even though she was not yet bucking.

it took a while for her to place herself, and then it crashed into her all at once. she gasped and tucked a hand into your hair, which you removed so that you could intertwine your fingers, pressing them away from her head.

you unlatched from her and pressed a soft kiss into her stomach.

“stay still,” you commanded. “please.”

she allowed it.

you worked at her over and over, pushing the back the hood of her clit so you could roll it between your fingers like a rosy pearl. sevika let her pleasure crest until she shuddered into an unearthly orgasm, her legs snapping shut around your head just as a roll of thunder sounded through the early morning.

"couldn’t sleep?" she rasped.

you slowly unfastened her legs and raised your head from where you had been lapping at her, your full mouth glistening with her arousal. sevika sat up fully, legs shifting beneath the butter-yellow comforter, and stared down at you.

you looked back at her with wide eyes like she’d caught you sinning. you. you with your puppy eyes and open mouth. you, with your sweetness, with your eagerness when it came to her. you like a doe on the open road.

"no," you told her. "i couldn’t accept the idea that you hated me."

she sighed and cupped your cheek, thumbing across the plush skin.

"when you do or say something that displeases me, that doesn’t mean i hate you."

"if you’re displeased," you said, your voice thick across the last word, "then it feels the same to me."

with a huff of irritation, she yanked you up and into her lap, guiding you into a bruising kiss.

it wasn’t like the last time. this wasn’t desperation or fear—it was need. pure, unrelenting need. her hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against her, and you gasped into her mouth, your fingers tangling in her hair.

she shifted you easily, rolling over so that you fell beneath her. her eyes roamed over you, dark and hungry, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“you drive me insane,” she murmured, her voice rough as her hand trailed down your side.

“good,” you whispered, pulling her back to you.

soon, kissing wasn’t enough. you had hungered for her for so long, and she for you.

wetly, your lips broke apart, and she slid back to survey you. the soft, muted light of the room caught on the intricate lace of your undergarments. the set was exquisite; the bra cupped you perfectly. you saw sevika's jaw tighten, her hands flexing at her sides as though restraining herself from reaching for you.

“you look…” her voice faltered, her control waning. “fuck, princess.”

heat spread across your body, and you felt the lace press a little tighter against your skin as your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths.

sevika leaned in, her eyes never leaving yours. her hand rose, hesitant at first, before her fingertips brushed the embroidered lace at your shoulder. she traced the pattern down your arm, her touch light but burning, before resting her palm at your waist.

“you wore this for me?” she murmured, her voice low and dark, as her thumb swept over the sheer fabric, catching on a pebbled nipple.

“who else?” you answered, a tremor in your voice as her hand slipped to the small of your back, pulling you up into a soft arch.

she hummed in satisfaction and gently pulled your bra down so that it dipped beneath your tits as they spilled further into view. steadying you with a hand on your stomach, sevika leaned down and coaxed a hard bud into her mouth.

the wet heat of her mouth was akin to a strike of lightning. you moaned as she increased the pressure of her teeth, suckling eagerly at your chest as you pushed desperately into her touch. by instinct, your legs rose to cross behind her hips, forcing her to settle on top of you.

she let go of your nipple with a wet pop and switched to the other, beginning to work her way down your body with a pleased exhale. your panties didn’t even put up a worthy fight. they just slid right down, the fabric bunching around your thighs. the scrap of fabric had barely covered your cunt anyway, your thatch of hair poking through as if to tease her.

she watched your lips gleam and glisten, your pussy drooling with arousal and as deliciously plump as the rest of you. sevika pressed her mouth against it, practically a dog in heat, and relished the way you shivered up against her.

“vika,” you moaned and turned your face to the side in the way you did when you were overcome with embarrassment.

“baby,” she murmured, shifting so that she could force you to look at her. “baby, is this all for me?”

you whined, and sevika smirked, dipping her head down to lick a flat stripe up your dripping cunt.

“vika, fuck,” you cried, and she hummed, hooking a hand around one of your legs to pull it up so that you were further exposed. your clit was swollen and calling out for her.

pulling back, she used her free hand to part your lips so that she could watch the way you clenched around nothing. slick ran steadily down to the crack of your ass, a syrupy stream of desire. carefully, she stroked a metallic finger through your heat, holding you down as she began to rub your clit in tight circles.

“look at that pussy,” she murmured. “can’t believe it’s all mine, princess. thank you. thank you, baby.”

sevika couldn’t help herself and lifted her hand, bringing it down to slap against your cunt. you squealed, and she pressed a kiss to your thigh, delighting in your loss of composure. she considered you beneath her, your body slick and shining with sweat as you writhed. she rained two more strikes across your pussy in quick succession, dropping her head down and sliding her fingers in to let your buck into her open mouth and lolling tongue.

“taste so fucking good, princess,” she purred into you. “that’s it. ride my face, sweet girl. take what you want from me. take what you need.”

you gripped the bed, angling her hips so that you could drag her deeper into the cavern of your cunt. mewling, you trapped her between the link of your legs as you snapped upward and arched, cumming with a high sob.

“oh my god, vika.”

“just me,” she teased.

sevika waited for a couple of seconds before pushing up and rearranging you, sliding your back against her chest. carefully, she pushed your legs back apart and tucked three fingers up into your cunt, building a rhythm until she was thrusting hard enough that the overstimulation made you scream. you curled over yourself, your nails raking down her muscled thighs.

she milked you, patient and unrelenting, until you began to bounce on your own. you rode her hand. hard. slowly, your gummy walls tightened around her, whimpering through the flashes of pain and pleasure before you came again with a silent wail. sevika held you as you shook apart, whispering a stream of steady praises into your ear.

“good girl,” she cooed. “look at how good you are, princess. you needed this, huh? you’ve been begging for it, so desperate to cream all over me. such a good fucking girl.”

you slumped down, whimpering weakly as she pulled away from you. you felt her get up, slipping off the bed and walking somewhere into the darkness of the room. soon, she returned but not alone. you began to come back to yourself, and in doing so, you were able to focus on what she held in your hands.

“vika, that won’t fit.”

in her hand was a navy harness and matching dildo, girthy and ribbed. you tilted your head as she closed in, your hands finding her waist as if by instinct.

“sevika,” you whispered, your voice breaking as her lips trailed down your jaw, her teeth grazing your throat.

“quiet, baby,” she muttered against your skin, and you sighed softly, the sound catching in your throat as her hands slid lower, gripping your hips with a possessiveness that made you shiver. "you know you can take it."

you let out a pathetic, wet cry as she prodded at your puffy cunt, and her face softened. she pulled you closer, peppering your face with soft kisses. there was only her—her heat, her weight, her breath against your skin.

again she watched you, gripping you firmly from beneath your thighs as she nestled the tip of the dildo at the entrance of your pussy.

“princess,” she called to you, and you blinked blearily, clutching at her. “consider this forgiveness.”

it was all you ever wanted.

© hcneymooners.

translations.   bitte — please. bitte, ich flehe dich an — please i beg of you. danke — thank you. du bist das, was ich brauche. nur du. — you are what i need. only you.

[imissnanami]

Breeding His Housewife w/ Aizawa S.

KINK!tober w/ Nana Oct. 1 | m.list

MDNI | breeding, talk of pregnancy, p in v, doggy a/n: for that one anon (●3<)

Aizawa Shouta was a simple man who loved to take care of his adorable housewife. Taking care of his wife often meant eating her out till her adorable legs were shaking and his face was dripping with her cum. But recently, a new fantasy has been worming its way into his brain. He can’t get the idea of his wife’s soft tummy all round and her plump breasts full and swollen with milk for his little baby. Bottom line was that Aizawa Shouta wanted to breed his cute little housewife. 

Which lead to now. Lucky for him, the only other thing covering your body was a thin pair of panties. Crouching down so he was eye level with your ass, his gaze focused on the flash of yellow that was your panties. The sliver of fabric was disappearing between your puffy lips. Feeling himself twitch in his pants and start to get hard, he reaches down to give himself a squeeze. 

Shuffling closer, Aizawa kneels in front of your cheeks before reaching out and gently massaging your thighs. A content sigh escapes you as he begins to speak;

“Feel good, love?”

Smiling your nod your head and hum out a yes. 

“Good” his deep voice comes from behind you. 

Pressing his thumbs closer into the crease of your ass, he peels them back to expose his favourite pair of panties. The yellow fabric has gotten significantly darker near your entrance. Leaning in, he places an open mouthed kiss on top, his lips quickly finding your clit through the material. A soft moan falls from your lips and you press your hips back. Aizawa hooks his finger around the panties, pulling it to the side. His tongue immediately dips into your core, licking into you and collecting your juices. 

Moaning against you as you squirm and whimper for more, Aizawa becomes flooded with an intense need for you. Wanting to hear more of your sweet sounds, he continues to lap at your clit, massaging your entrance and tongue fucking you. He thinks he’s starting to feel lightheaded with the amount of blood flowing to fill out his length. His dick twitching and leaking precum in his pants. The strain becoming uncomfortable and maddening. With a final suck on your clit, he lets you go and sits back on his heels. You hear clothes rustling but feel nothing more. 

“Where did you gooo” Whining you begin to turn before a strong hand places itself in between your shoulder blades, pinning you down.

“I got you, don’t move love” Came his raspy voice. Humming and settling in, you shake your hips, teasing him. 

He chuckles before placing his other hand on your hip. Pressing down, he tilts your body so your thighs spread and present him a gorgeous view of your cunt. Letting go for a moment, he strokes himself once, twice, before lining up and pushing in. 

The second his fat tip popped past your tight ring of muscle, the both of you moan in synch. As each inch presses further in, Aizawa felt hot pleasure climb up his spine. Your wet walls moulding to his shape, caressing and squeezing each dip and vein. When finally he bottoms out, he’s panting because he can feel how snug your cervix is caressing his weeping head and slit. You’re not doing much better, mouth hung open in a silent moan, drooling on the couch cushion. 

Bending over your body so his front is pressed to your back, Aizawa begins to pull out, moaning at the feeling, hands gripping your hips. Already pussydrunk, he starts to babble against your neck as he sets a steady pace; 

“Fuck, you feel so good...wanna give you my baby”

“Yeah?” You whine, turning your head, trying to get a glimpse of him. 

“Yeah...wanna fill you up and watch you-... Fuck...watch you get all roun-hnggg-d” Aizawa presses hot kisses at the top of your spine before gently but firmly biting down. Feeling you immediately clench around him his hips stutter as he groans. 

“Fuck, gonna fuck a baby into your cute womb,” His hips pick up speed as he thrusts deeper, jostling your body and making the whole couch move. You start to slip forwards. Suddenly you let out a loud moan. The new angle has him drilling your g spot over and over again. His slit kissing the spongy spot, bullying it into the shape of him. He speaks again,

“Wanna... fuck, wanna make-” His words dissolve into a moan as he feels himself get closer and closer to cuming. His strong hand wedges itself between your thighs and the armrest of the couch. His long fingers worming themselves closer to your clit. 

“need you, need you to -fuck- cum so it takes better.” 

The pads of his fingers slide against your clit, sending shocks of electricity up your spine. Each swipe of his fingers bring your closer and closer until you’re falling apart, face shoved into the seat cushion. He sinks his teeth further into your skin as your clamp down around him.

But he doesn’t stop there. Ignoring your squirming and weak sounds of protest, his finger contine to abuse your clit. Your cum making them slide all the better. He mumbles from behind you,

“‘Nother”

“Gotta make sure it takes.”

“One more, please, please, please” 

Phrase after phrase fall from his lips as his hips drive his length in and out of your tight heat. He could feel your walls flittering and twitching around him. The way your thighs began to close again, he knew you were close to cuming again. 

Your mouth hung open in a cute “o” shape, a constant stream of “ah, ah, ah, ah” falling from your lips as he fucked the air out of your lungs. At your sudden keen and the way your pussy began rhythmically milking his cock, Aizawa finally let go. Long ropes of sticky cum coated your womb. His hips stuttered as he moaned your name. His hips bucked weakly as he overstimulated himself, making you got every last drop of his seed. 

Finally stilling, he leaned back over your tired and boneless body, his chest against your back. Gently hands brushed your hair to one side. He pressed a kiss to the back, panting and catching his breath. 

“You did so good for me, love.” you hummed your approval.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before he pulled out. You whimpered as you felt the pressure from his length disappear. Before you could protest too much, his strong arms were picking you up and pulling you to his chest. Flipping your positions, he sat down on the couch and settled you on his lap. For the rest of the night he wouldn’t let you get up or do anything, doting on you the whole time. Because after all, his cute little wife needed to sit still so his seed could take. ;)

tags | @plushygrrrl @alpha-mommy69 @roygbivvie @flooftoof

[aleksatia]

🎨Blind date with your ex-husband. You never expected it to be… Rafayel.

Inspiration hit me going 100mph down the highway, and I took an unscheduled gas station stop just to write this down. My husband almost divorced me again thinking I’d lost my mind — so in a way, this series is dedicated to him. And to second chances. I know they exist. I’ve lived one. 🥀

An unplanned new series. Five ex-husbands. Same setup, different reactions.

❄️ Zayne | 🏍 Sylus | ✨Xavier | 🍎 Caleb

CW/TW: Divorce / Post-divorce emotional trauma, Toxic romantic cycles, Verbal conflict / emotional manipulation, High emotional volatility, Crying / vulnerability, Jealousy, Theatrical intensity, Implied sexual content (consensual, emotionally charged), References to artistic obsession, Codependency themes.

Pairing: Rafayel x ex-wife!you Genre: Operatic angst, sensory overload, intimacy tangled in art and argument. Enemies to lovers to something mythic and broken. Summary: Rafayel was always too much — too vivid, too loud, too in love with the idea of being in love. Now, in a room made of silk and memory, you’re forced to confront the passion that nearly devoured you both. What begins with masks ends in scorched truths, spilled wine, and a kiss that remembers every wound it ever caused. Word Count: 3.6K

The room was a mirage made of silk.

Blue and amber fabrics swayed gently overhead, catching the glow of hanging lanterns that burned like slow, ancient stars. Patterns scattered across the floor like constellations, stitched from shadow and gold. The air pulsed with warmth, scented with saffron, cardamom, rosewater, and smoke — something too heady to be real.

A low table stood in the center, set for two. Carved brass, aged like a secret. Cushions instead of chairs. A bowl of candied figs. Crystal glasses half-filled with something rich and ambered, already beading condensation in the heat.

The music played softly, something stringed and spiraling, full of bends and minor keys. It didn’t fill the space — it wrapped it. Like a whisper over skin.

You sat with your hands folded in your lap, heart steady, but only just. Something about the room felt dangerous. Not overtly. But the kind of danger that came wrapped in silk and compliments. The kind you didn’t notice until it was inside you, changing your breath.

Then the curtain stirred.

A figure stepped through the veil — tall, lithe, draped in pale fabrics that shimmered like wet paint. A mask covered the upper half of his face: smooth silver, delicate scrollwork, slightly fox-shaped. His hair was dark — maybe lavender? — but the lighting played tricks, casting halos where none should exist.

He moved with a liquid elegance that set your nerves on edge. Not performance. Presence.

And something in your chest twitched.

He sat across from you without hesitation, folding into the cushions like the air had made room for him. One ringed hand toyed with the stem of his glass. He hadn’t looked at you fully yet, but even the curve of his jaw behind the mask felt… familiar in a way you didn’t want to name.

You watched him watching the room.

The shape of his throat. The line of his wrists. The quiet, performative grace of someone used to being looked at — and loving it.

Your stomach turned, slowly.

Then he looked at you. Just briefly.

And smiled.

The candlelight caught in his eyes — unnaturally pale, a hue caught somewhere between rose and seafoam. Impossible. Stunning.

Your pulse skipped. Once. Hard.

No.

No, no, no—

Too dark. Too hazy. Too many fragrances in the air. That’s all this was. A trick of the senses. A trick of memory.

And then—

He spoke.

“Let me guess,” he said, voice smooth as velvet over glass, warm and slow and theatrical. “You’re the one they warned me about.”

Your throat tightened.

No name. No gesture. But your skin recoiled like it had just touched flame.

You made yourself breathe. Spoke without thinking. “Depends. What was the warning?”

He tilted his head slightly, like he’d heard something inside your voice that he didn’t expect.

“That I’d end the evening ruined.”

Your fingers curled in your lap.

That voice. You hadn’t heard it in almost a year. But your bones remembered.

Still — you didn’t move. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of recognition.

He poured the drink anyway. Fluid, slow, luxurious. Passed the glass across the table with the same fingers that once traced poems into your shoulder blades at dawn.

No. Don’t go there.

“Drink,” he said, watching you now. “It makes the disappointment more beautiful.”

The room shifted with the sound of his voice, like the silk overhead had caught its breath. One of the lanterns flickered. The scent of rose and something darker curled tighter around your ankles.

You didn’t touch your glass.

“Disappointment implies expectation,” you said. “You always did mistake fantasy for reality.”

He smiled — sharp and amused, like you’d stepped into a trap he’d laid years ago. “Still fluent in cruelty, I see. Good. I was afraid domesticity might’ve tamed you.”

You reached for the glass then, just to keep your hand busy. “And I see you’re still confusing cleverness with depth.”

The flicker in his eyes was almost too fast to catch.

You took a sip. The drink was sharp, floral, and laced with something decadent.

He was watching you. Not politely. Not appreciatively. Like a man trying to decide whether to paint you or burn the memory of you from his mind entirely.

“I should’ve known it was you,” you said finally, setting the glass down with a deliberate clink. “All this silk and smoke? Feels like the opening act of one of your breakdowns.”

He smirked. “Then you should’ve checked under the cushions for a script.” A beat. “Though if anyone here’s performing,” he added, “it’s not me this time.”

That got a laugh out of you. Low, involuntary. Dangerous.

“God,” you said. “You’re exhausting.”

He lifted his glass again, gaze steady over the rim.

“And yet someone out there thought we’d make a charming pair.” 

A pause. 

“Statistically improbable,” he added. “But then again, so were we.”

The silk walls shifted faintly in the breeze of the central fan, as if the whole room leaned in.

You tilted your head. “They said this was a blind date. I didn’t realize they meant blind in the Biblical sense.”

“Ah.” He leaned back. “There’s the sermon I missed. Tell me, do you rehearse those in the mirror, or do they just fall out of you naturally?”

“You want natural?” you asked, voice cool. “Then take off the mask.”

He didn’t move. So you did it first.

The mask slid away with a soft hiss of fabric. You held his gaze, daring him to flinch, to breathe, to blink.

He didn’t.

Instead, after a beat, he reached up and peeled his own mask off — slow, like undressing a wound.

And there he was.

Exactly as you’d known he’d be. Beautiful in that way that always made you want to hurt something. Or kiss him just to feel how much it would cost.

His expression flickered when he saw your face.

“I thought you’d look different,” he said.

“I thought you’d grow up.”

That wiped the smirk right off his mouth.

For half a second, he looked like the boy who’d once painted your collarbone in gold leaf just because he could.

Then it was gone.

“You know,” he said, gaze dropping to your mouth, “for someone who always wanted peace, you start fights like it’s foreplay.”

You leaned forward slightly. “And for someone who always wanted to be adored, you sure made yourself easy to leave.”

Rafayel’s smile didn’t falter. But it sharpened — fractionally. Like the curve of a blade when it catches the light.

“Maybe,” he said softly, “I didn’t want you to stay.”

The words landed like silk draped over broken glass.

You blinked once. Then twice. Then let out a low breath of laughter — measured, dangerous, devastating.

“Oh, darling,” you said, tilting your head, “you always were such a convincing actor. Shame the role of coward never quite won you any standing ovations.”

He chuckled. “Coward?” he echoed, voice rich with amusement. “From you, that’s practically a love letter.”

You leaned back slightly, the candlelight catching the glint in your eyes.

“No, love letters require vulnerability. You wouldn’t recognize one if it was monogrammed and hand-delivered on rose petals.”

He lifted his glass in a mock-toast, eyes never leaving yours. “To you. The only woman who ever left a man mid-soliloquy and still expected an encore.”

You clinked your own glass to his with a smile that could’ve slit a throat. “To you. The man who wrote odes to my shadow but never once looked me in the eye long enough to know my shape.”

He laughed. You hated how beautiful the sound still was.

There was a pause, charged and theatrical, like the air had leaned forward on cue.

“And yet,” he said, swirling the drink in his glass, “you sat across from me. Masked. Unapologetically luminous. Like a challenge waiting to happen.”

“I was aiming for quiet mystery,” you replied, raising your glass. “But I suppose provocation always did look better on me.”

He leaned forward, close enough now for the scent of rose to cling between you.

“Then let’s drink,” he said, “to what we ruined so beautifully.”

You raised your glass. He raised his. Both smiles intact.

“To mistakes,” you said.

“To masterpieces,” he replied, then added, with a flick of his lashes, “—that deserved better muses.”

And that was it. Your hand moved before you thought.

You didn’t throw the wine.

You grabbed the wrong glass — the other one — and without hesitation, flung the contents at him.

It was tea. Very hot tea.

There was a stunned half-second as the amber liquid splashed across the front of his perfect, pale shirt — followed by a sharp inhale through his teeth.

He hissed softly, setting the glass down with a slow, deliberate clink. Then — without hesitation — he pulled the shirt over his head.

The fabric stuck to him slightly, steam curling off his chest like the room itself was reacting. His skin caught the lantern-light like marble dusted in firelight — golden, sharp-lined, impossible.

You stared.

Unfortunately.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling. “Always dramatic, aren’t you?”

“You deserved it,” you snapped. “And more.”

“More?” He stepped closer. “You always did like escalation. Tell me — should I throw a fig at your face? Or set something expensive on fire?”

You crossed your arms, not trusting your breath. “You’d enjoy that too much.”

“Because it’s the only language you speak!” he shot back. “Break it. Burn it. Drown it. But for God’s sake, don’t sit still and talk like a human being.”

You laughed, bitter and breathless. “That’s rich. Coming from you.”

He gestured wildly. “I begged you to stay! I begged you with everything but the word!”

“That was the problem,” you said, eyes burning now. “You gave me poetry when I needed something real. Something steady. Not ten thousand metaphors and a gallery of regrets.”

His jaw clenched.

“And now,” you said, voice cracking just enough to give it teeth, “you say I wasn’t enough of a muse. Well—”

You stood suddenly, movement sharp, breath shaking as your body tried to hold the rest in.

 “—maybe you should’ve picked a prettier tragedy.”

You turned away, shoulders tight and trembling.

He froze.

Your back was to him now, and thank God, because your throat was tight, and your hands were shaking and that single line — that stupid, perfect insult about your worth — cut deeper than it should have.

You felt it first. His presence.

Then the heat of him, close, pressing in without touching.

And then — his arms wrapped around you from behind. One quick, quiet motion. Not forceful. Desperate.

He pulled you against him, bare skin warm and still faintly damp from the tea.

His nose buried in your hair. His breath unsteady.

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered.

Your breath caught.

“I didn’t mean it,” he repeated.“God, I didn’t— You know I say things when I’m scared. And you looked like you were about to walk away all over again.”

You didn’t answer.

So he tightened his hold.

“I’m sorry,” he said, softer now. “I’m sorry I made you think you weren’t everything. I’m sorry I hurt you to feel less hurt myself. I’m sorry I used my mouth to ruin what it was made to worship.”

You closed your eyes.

His voice cracked on the last word.

“I never wanted anyone better,” he whispered. “I only ever wanted more time with you.”

You turned in his arms with a suddenness that surprised even you.

You meant to push him away. You meant to say don’t, to reclaim your anger before it crumbled. But your hands — traitors — only reached his chest and stayed there, limp. Useless. Pressed against his bare skin like they belonged.

He covered them with his own.

Not roughly. Not to keep you there. But to hold the contact steady — as if you might dissolve if he let go.

The heat of him burned through your palms. Steady. Alive. Too much.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to fold into him and scream into his collarbone.

Instead, you whispered, “How did we get here?”

His breath hitched.

“I loved you,” you said. “You loved me. And somehow we became this—” your voice broke, “—this shipwreck of a marriage. What happened to us, Raf?”

He didn’t answer right away.

So you filled the silence with everything your mouth had been holding for too long.

“It used to be magic,” you said, eyes wet now, but you wouldn’t let them fall. “God, we were light. We were gold. You made me feel like I was flying. And then one day, it was like we couldn’t breathe unless we were screaming.”

He said your name. Just once.

Low. Like an apology wrapped in prayer.

You kept going.

“Why did it turn into a stage? When did our home become a theater and our life some broken play where we both forgot our lines? I didn’t want to be a performance, Raf. I wanted to be real.”

He slid one hand up your back, slow, careful. As if you might break from anything more sudden.

“I know,” he murmured. “I know.”

“I didn’t recognize us anymore,” you said, the words trembling. “All we did was throw paint. Emotions. Blame. Color, color, color, until we drowned in it. Until we forgot what normal even meant.”

He leaned his forehead to yours, his breath catching against your cheek. And when he spoke, his voice had changed. Quieter. Lower. Without the velvet and dramatics. Just him.

“I was scared,” he said.

You blinked.

“I was scared,” he repeated. “That if things slowed down — if we got too quiet, too normal — you’d leave. That you’d realize I wasn’t enough without the chaos. Without the fire.”

You stared at him. Your hands still pressed to his chest. You could feel the way his heartbeat stumbled.

“So I gave you fire,” he said. “I gave you storms. I made our life… louder, because silence felt like death.”

“And I left anyway,” you said.

“Because I set the house on fire and expected you to dance in it.”

You closed your eyes. His words were knives. But so was your silence.

“There was jealousy,” you murmured. “And guilt. And all your little accusations when I was too tired to match your flame.”

He swallowed hard.

“You were angry when I fell asleep during your gallery story,” you added. “But I’d just come home from a mission. I’d spent five hours knee-deep in wanderers and blood and—” you exhaled, “—I needed sleep, Raf. Not a performance.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“I needed rest,” you said. “And all I got was another curtain call.”

He looked ruined. Not fragile. Not shattered. Just exhausted from pretending not to be.

“I was so afraid of losing you,” he said. “So I smothered you with everything I thought would make you stay.”

You looked at him — really looked — and something inside you cracked down the center.

And still, part of you whispered: It might not be enough.

Rafayel tensed — just a little. The shift of a shoulder, the pause in his fingers at your back.

“Did you come here,” he asked, voice low and almost too careful, “because you’re ready to move on?”

You smiled, slow and sly. Not to tease, but to veil the flicker of something softer.

“Maybe my life’s been too normal lately. Too gray.” You leaned the smallest bit closer, letting your cheek rest against his bare chest. “I needed a little danger again. And you?”

His heart responded beneath your skin. 

He chuckled, brushing his knuckles lightly down your spine. “I could say I was looking for an exotic muse to paint. Something with cheekbones sharp enough to draw blood and an aura of doomed seduction.”

You huffed a laugh against his skin. “That would’ve been a very you thing to say.”

“But the truth,” he murmured, “is boring. Thomas set me up. Said he registered, got sick, and that some poor woman would be stuck alone unless I stepped in. He was very dramatic about it.”

You tilted your head back to look at him, eyes narrowing. “Tara pulled the same trick on me.”

“Ah.” His lips quirked. “Coordinated sabotage. Typical.”

A moment passed, heavy in the hush. You hadn’t meant to relax like this, but here you were — cheek to his chest, listening to the rhythm of a heart that had once been your home. And still was, apparently. Because everything inside you had gone soft, slow, steady.

It felt like something had clicked back into place. Like a missing tile in a mosaic suddenly slotted home and made the whole thing whole again.

Your voice, when it came, was quieter. Uncertain. Honest.

“Raf… why did you sign the divorce papers?”

He didn’t answer at first. His fingers moved gently through your hair, brushing behind your ear. When he finally spoke, his voice had dropped into something rawer.

“Because I respect your decisions. Even when I didn’t agree with them.”

You looked up, eyes burning.

“I wanted you to be happy,” he continued. “Even if it meant watching you bloom from the sidelines. Watching you learn how to smile again without me in the frame.” He swallowed. “Are you happy?”

You hesitated. But the answer was already rising, uninvited.

“No,” you said. “The world turned grayscale. It’s like I’m walking through some awful dystopia with clean counters and dry eyes. Everything works. Nothing shines.”

He exhaled, long and low. His arms tightened around you, fingers threading into your hair, grounding you in scent and heat and skin.

“Cutie,” he murmured, voice close, mouth brushing your temple, “just say the word. I’ll paint the colors back in.”

“I’m afraid,” you admitted. “Still. Afraid to go blind from too much kaleidoscope.”

“I won’t lie,” he whispered. “I can’t promise restraint. I might always be a little too loud. A little too much. But I can give you something else now. Balance. Space. Stability. Peace, if you’ll have it.”

You searched his eyes.

He added, “Only if you’re ready. If you want to let me back in.”

“I never really closed the door,” you said. “Just stood behind it. Waiting.”

And that broke whatever spell held you still.

He kissed you.

Not hurried, not frantic — just whole. His mouth claimed yours like it had a right to, but still asked permission with every slow pull of lips, every breath passed between you.

You pressed into him, fingers curling at the base of his neck. His hand splayed across your lower back, warm and deliberate, guiding without demand.

He leaned into the cushions with you, dragging you down into silk and shadow, his mouth never leaving yours.

The taste of saffron and heat and memory filled you.

He kissed you the way people wrote arias — rising, falling, trembling with feeling too big for language. His tongue brushed yours gently at first, then deeper, hungrier, as if your mouth were the only place he could breathe.

You moaned softly against him, and he swallowed the sound, pulling you closer. Your legs tangled. His hand slipped beneath the hem of your dress, fingers grazing your thigh with aching reverence.

You moved like tide against him — hungry and fluid.

The lanterns swayed above. The cushions sighed beneath you. One of the glasses tipped over with a soft thud, spilling rose-colored wine that neither of you noticed.

His lips trailed down your jaw, to your throat, where he lingered, breathing you in like incense.

“You still taste like paradise,” he whispered.

And when he looked up again, your hair tangled in his fingers, your body flushed and pliant against his — you knew.

There was nothing gray left between you.

Only color. Only fire. Only Rafayel.

Your body answered his touch like it had been waiting a lifetime. Hot, eager, instinctive. Every stroke of his fingers sent sparks down your spine. Every kiss — soft or sharp — undid you a little more.

The silk beneath you could’ve caught fire from the heat you were building between each other.

His hands roamed without hesitation, without apology — palming, stroking, gripping — sometimes tender, sometimes greedy. Your back arched into him, chasing the sensations, chasing the memory of what it felt like to simply be wanted like this. Loved like this. By him.

His mouth found your throat. Then lower. His tongue trailed over skin like it was sacred. When his lips closed around your nipple, firm and aching, you whimpered — low and breathless — and pulled him closer, nails raking his back.

He groaned into your skin, and you swore your entire body melted into flame.

You didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want him to stop.

But then—

A soft, mechanical chime broke through the haze. Gentle. Too real.

The signal. The end of the hour.

You froze. So did he. Still hovering over you, still half-undressed, still hard and pulsing between your thighs.

You looked up at him, breathless.

He was watching you like the world might end if you looked away first.

“Do you regret it?” he asked, voice roughened by want.

You shook your head, smiling softly despite the ache in your chest. “No. Do you?”

His mouth quirked — cocky, fond, feral.

“Do you even have to ask?” he murmured, then rocked his hips forward just enough for you to feel the full weight of him, hard and ready. “Does that feel like regret to you?”

Your breath caught.

“I could steal you for the rest of the night,” he whispered, voice low and wicked, like a shared sin.

You grinned up at him, hand sliding into his hair. “You could steal me for the rest of my life.”

He growled — quiet and deep in his chest.

“We’ll see what you say tomorrow morning,” he muttered, brushing his lips along your jaw, “when you can’t walk straight or remember how to say no.”

You bit his bottom lip, teasing.

“Do you even know what moderation is?”

His eyes darkened with something hungry, reverent, unstoppable.

“Only in everything except how much I love you.”

And this time — when he kissed you — it wasn’t a performance. It wasn’t memory. It was home.

[samodivaa]

║drool on dog tags║

Bucky x Reader : They sway in your face during sex... (smut) {request}

There’s nothing more dangerous than a man with charm—and Bucky looks like a deity—a small smile tips up one corner of your mouth as you look in his eyes which are powder-blue and still rimmed with the longest lashes you have ever seen on a man. His mouth comes down on yours without further warning. Not hard or violently or forcefully. But fully, with complete contact. He comes directly to you, seizing your face between his hands, and capturing your mouth beneath his. “I am going to shower, Bucky" 

"Is that an initiation? We can shower later” 

He cajoles, hoping he sounds convincing rather than needy. Tortuously slow, Bucky licks his lips, rolling his hips fluidly against yours. It’s a struggle to swallow back a groan when you bite his lower lip slightly. You are covered only by a towel, his mind running amuck over what the towel is hiding—sexual perversions mix with lust as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed, your body fully exposed to him. You lick your lips at the sight of his broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even a jacket cannot hide. Your eyes continue their upward travel to his strong square-shaped face, framed with short brown hair that falls to his shoulders and deep, blue eyes. He disrupts your thoughts by stripping his shirt off, shorts, boxers—letting only the dog tags trail over his chest.

He then craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten. His body hovers above you as he leans down to kiss you. You're perfect when you're underneath him, it's where you belong, beautiful face and pretty eyes lock onto his—your warmth cushioning him, your obedient body lush, your eyes flashing—and all he wants is to ruin you. His lips are once again on your skin, devouring everything he can—licking, sucking, and kissing. He drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth before leaning back to let his hips slowly rut against you, length parting your folds and rubbing over your clit, dragging his pre-come up between your lips. You simultaneously release a harsh moan as he buries himself deep with an upward thrust. You are grateful that he doesn't start slow, but slams into you with no remorse, the need for fucking poisoning his mind. Bucky brings both of your wrists above your head and grips them in his metal arm, restraining them from moving—It's a sinful sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. He loves watching it happen. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, his eyes roll backwards as the dog tags make melodious ringing sounds right above your face with every thrust.

“Can you feel my cock slipping in and out…feels good, doesn’t it?”

When you don’t answer in time, he stops and lifts his gaze towards yours. You feel a jolt of some foreign but not unwelcome sensation piercing your body. You look so—slutty. There is something raw and pleading in his eyes that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving—his dog tags continue to whirl in your hot mouth, drool dribbles from your corners on your lips—but your greedy tongue is always ravenous…for anything. It is the dirty, sinful element that gives pleasure to the act of lust, then the dirtier it is, the more pleasurable it is bound to be. He pulls out, only the tip remains inside. 

“Don’t-” you whimper desperately. Without warning, he pushes his whole length. He focuses his attention on your lips. His trusts are slow and his stare makes your walls clench around him.

“Don’t stop?” He chuckles softly, voice going deeper as he picks up the pace and fucks you into the mattress, his thrusts only getting rougher. “Is that what you want? Need me to fuck you till you come, baby?” he mumbles, not looking away from your lips, his gaze devouring you.

He has to take a deep breath. He tries to breathe, trying to avoid cumming, but your filthy mouth rips his soul and hypnotizes his brain—and your eyes, eyes that bare into his heart, making his dick twitch. The wet squelching, your shy moans, the way your walls tighten around cock is enough to make him cum. His dick keeps on slamming into you, the sight of his well-muscled body, covered in a thin layer of sweat, invites you to utter depravity, it is what drives you over the edge. You whimper and screw your eyes tight as another wave of pleasure spreads throughout your body in orgasmic tingles as he pulls his own climax with you. He finally presses his face against your neck as his hips lose any and all sense of tempo and when he finally stills, he holds himself deep inside as he leans back—with every breath, your bust heaves, sweat droplets running between them and attracting his gaze.  But what pollutes his mind even more—is when he pulls the dog tags away from your mouth, sticky strands of spit spilling between your lips and the small metal plates as you share collective gasps of breath. Sometimes, to regain sanity, one has to acknowledge and embrace the madness.

[prythiansprincess]

you know what i've been thinking about recently?👀 young Hogwarts professor Lorenzo Berkshire🫣🫠

— teacher's pet.

NAVIGATION // inbox. tags. writing. library.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: teacher's pet by melanie martinez.

author’s note: i'm actually feral for professor! berkshire. I just know everyone at hogwarts would have such a big crush on him

"class dismissed," professor berkshire stated as his eyes roved over you.

avoiding his gaze, you gathered your belongings and weaved your way through the lecture hall. you were almost at the door when the professor cleared his throat, demanding your attention.

"miss y/l/n." you tensed as the professor addressed you, your name sounding as sweet as honey as it poured from his lips. "may I have a word?"

you gave him a curt nod, watching carefully as he sauntered across the vast room, his fingers brushing yours before he diligently locked the door. professor berkshire smiled at you, the warmth of it almost dispelling your bad mood. determined not to let him win, you returned the gesture with a blank stare.

"what can I do for you, professor?"

the professor raises a brow, clearly aware of the dark cloud hovering over you. with measured steps, he pulled out his chair and patted the cushioned seat. you crossed your arms defiantly and held your ground.

"sit down, sweetheart."

bristling at the nickname, you raised your chin proudly before perching yourself primly in his chair. a slight smirk tugged at the professor's lips, but he said nothing and turned his attention to the tea kettle instead. as he fixed your tea, you didn't miss the way he added extra milk and honey. just like you like it.

still, however sweet it may be, you continued your stoic act as he carefully set the mug down before you. the professor sipped slowly, his whiskey coloured eyes appraising you silently.

"what''s wrong, honey? you don't seem like yourself today."

you stirred the tea with your wand and rolled your eyes. "surprised you even noticed," you huffed. "you seemed busy complimenting lavender."

the professor chuckled, which only further incensed you. as if watching him fawn over lavender during class wasn't bad enough, he had the audacity to patronize you as well.

"don't laugh at me."

when the professor spoke again, his entire demeanor changed. the gentleness that he only reserved for when the two of you were alone emerged, shedding the facade of the professor and revealing enzo. your enzo.

"i'm not laughing at you, sweetheart," enzo murmured softly. "i'm laughing at the fact that you think anyone else could ever hold my attention like you do."

"could've had me fooled," you mumbled stubbornly.

enzo kneeled down beside you and tilted your chin up. "look at me. do you know how much i'm risking just to be with you? I could lose my job, but even the threat of that couldn't keep my away from you. I want you and only you."

"yes, but only as long as I stay a secret."

"for now," enzo clarified. "once you graduate, we can leave together. move to some city where no one knows us. somewhere we can finally be together."

you glanced up at him with hopeful eyes. "do you mean that?"

"of course I do, honey."

enzo kissed your hand before sliding a heart shaped diamond ring on your finger. you admired the glittering jewel, unable to fight the smile that spread across your lips.

"m'sorry you felt like my attention was elsewhere today," enzo murmured as he slid between your legs. "allow me to show you that it's not."

you bit your lip as his hand traveled up your skirt, cupping your warmth while your core ached with need.

"yes."

"yes, what?"

"yes, professor."

enzo flashed you a proud smile before kissing your knee. "good girl."

his dark head disappeared underneath your skirt, peppering your thigh with open-mouthed kisses. enzo licked and sucked at your supple skin, marking you up in the places that only he would be able to see. he hummed as he traveled further down, placing a filthy kiss to your clothed core that had you keening for more.

"patience, honey," enzo stated. "I want to take my sweet time eating this pretty pussy of yours. i'm going to make you feel so good until you're screaming my name and squirting all over my face. then you'll know that I mean it when I say you're the only one for me, pretty girl.''

you moaned as he licked a stripe up your slit, gathering the juices dripping from your pussy with an eagerness that was borderline greedy. enzo watched with rapt attention as he made you come apart with his mouth, swirling and sucking at your clit while he pushed his tongue deeper into your pussy.

holding your legs apart, enzo feasted on you like a starved man. any doubt that you may have had earlier dissipated as he moaned your name while he ate you out, worshipping fervently on his knees like you were his religion.

"don't you see, silly girl," enzo teased as he lightly smacked your sensitive clit. "there's no need to be jealous. do you think anyone else in the world could drive me to the brink of insanity like you could? I crave you, day and night. all I can think about is your touch, your smile, your voice. i'm fucking undone and it's all because of you."

you shuddered as he slid his fingers inside of you, curling them against your soft, spongy walls while you tugged at his hair. "I want you to know what that feels like, honey. I want you to feel as unraveled as you make me feel."

as he pumped his fingers faster, you moaned and writhed against the chair. the pressure was building inside of you, begging to be released. "oh please, please..."

"come on, then," enzo coaxed. "why don't you be a good little teacher's pet and cum for your professor?"

the filthy words send you over the edge and you bucked against enzo’s mouth as you came, chest heaving as the orgasm seized your entire body. just like he wanted, you squirted in his face and soaked him until your juices were dripping from his chin.

“that’s right, honey,” enzo praised as he lapped you up. “you’re such a good girl for me. I fucking adore you, baby. one day I’ll show you off like you deserve,” he kissed the ring on your finger as you blushed. “but for now, i’ve gotta keep you all to myself. my favorite little secret. you understand, don’t you, baby?”

you leaned forward and kissed him softly, smiling when you tasted yourself on his lips. “yes, professor.”

[hello-from-nrc-infirmary]

Vern's Hometown: Centennial Celebration

Book 5: Finale

Chapter 3: Sunset

Formal is irrelevant. The firelight gains prominence as daylight fades. More logs are added, allowing smoke to fill the air. The younger children slowly leave for their beds. Others stay, laughing with friends. Their joyful cacophony is almost drowned out by the rambunctious music.

Smoke and ash wisp into shadows. The kaleidoscope of prancing images twirl around them. An illusion of flowers dance underfoot. If any attempted to touch them, they would vanish.

Soot is kicked up with every step. Vern's stained skirts flare out on another spin. It's strange and comforting to have a partner. A familiar dance he can do in the deepest of sleeps now flutters anew with every beat. A few steps bring them back.

Sweat shimmers across their foreheads. The minutes and hours bleed together. One melody into another. An iridescent fish ballet weaves around the dancers. A bubbling laughter spills from Vern. Steel smiles, his own airy laugh joins in.

"What's... so funny?"

The sprite meets his gaze breathlessly, "I'm... really happy."

"Eh?"

Joined hands lift above to spin around. The area around them is barely a blurr. Focus returning to Steel, the sprite tries to calm himself. "I-is he still umm..."

"Yeah, on my six."

"... let's um... not think about him," Vern tries. His head feels light, a mild dizziness buzzes down from it.

".. okay."

He welcomes night's breath cooling his skin like autumn rain. Vern can tell when some musicians would take a break and join back in. A simple rotation, yet easy to get lost in. Forgetting the world is hard, yet indulging in a moment is effortless.

For this bubble in time, emotion vibrates the air. Colorful shapes morph to each beat. It has been too long since his muscles felt like a newborn foal finding it's footing. Who is keeping who from collapsing is unclear. The firm earth underfoot is the only certainty.

A gasp from the onlookers is nearly drowned by the rhythm. A string pulls at his mind. His eyes want to follow, yet a turn blocks his view. His brow creases as he attempts to see behind Steel. "Ver.."

Pink dusts the sprites cheeks. It's only one word, a fraction of his name. The syllables spoken softly warms him. Tearing his focus back to his friend, he tries to stay on his toes.

"Almost," Steel winks, "we have to finish this one."

"Y-yeah," Vern manages a dizzy nod. His amber eyes sting, but not from the smoke. A soothing wave rolls through his veins, easing his tension. He almost misses a familiar, icy crack.

Chapter 4: Dusk

A tight spin jostles his focus. Flashes of magic collide. The music falters as smoke billows through the remaining crowd. Vern squeezes his eyes shut against it. Tucking himself against Steel, he waits for the air to settle. He flinches, as a drop hits his cheek.

"Er.. sorry."

The sprite swears the liquid away. Checking his bandages, he finds an inky substance he's well acquainted with.

"It's alright, I um..." he pauses, ducking as Steel casts another counter spell, "don't mind."

Sparkling green mist flares from Vern's hands. Vines burst from the ground to restrain Victor. "Enough!"

Snowflakes drift around them. Citizens that stayed murmur in uneasy awe. The spring sprite trembles slightly, his muscles begging for rest. "Do you forfeit the challenge?"

There's a rumble underfoot. Stumbling, Vern's spell loosens as spikes of ice shoot out of the dirt. He's tackled. Air is knocked from his lungs despite the cushioned fall.

"You alright? Any injuries?"

Vern slowly blinks up at Steel, gasping while registering the questions. "U-umm... I'm fine... I think..."

"Why," Victor's voice rings out above the chaos, icicles forming in the air around him. "Why do you reject everything I do for you?!"

Ooc// Welcome to the final boss fight.

Tag List: @nrcbookclub @castaway-achlys @nightonthemountain

Songs for the dance:

There's Nothing Holding Me Back by Shawn Mendes

A Bar Song (Tipsy) by Shaboozey

I Don't Wanna Wait by David Guetta & OneRepublic

Roundtable Rival by Lindsey Stirling

Élan by Nightwish

Songs for Everyone vs. Victor:

It Ends Tonight by All-American Rejects

Liar by Jelly Roll

Ready For This by All Good Things

Trophy Hunter by Within Temptation

[lilou0401]

Choi Seunghyun, An Angel ²

Choi Seunghyun x american!reader

Summary: Seunghyun invites reader to a cozy cafe to escape the commotion and apologize for the chaos. As they chat over drinks, the conversation flows easily, with the reader playfully teasing him about his blue hair from Fantastic Baby. Seunghyun, initially embarrassed, starts to relax, enjoying how down-to-earth and genuine she is. They find themselves drawn to each other, and as the evening unfolds, they realize there's a connection neither of them can ignore. What started as a surprising encounter becomes the start of something more.

Warnings: none

Masterlist

The soft ringing of the bell sounded happily as the large glass door with a cute welcome sign was pushed open, the large hand of Seunghyun, who held the door open for you with a small nervous dimple smile. After asking you if you wanted to sit down at a cafe instead and you agreed, he mentioned a nice cafe around the corner, which you immediately headed towards. On the way there, Seunghyun's mind was wandering wildly, nervous that you wouldn't like the cafe, while you walked next to him with a sweet smile.

As you passed by you thanked him, with slow steps, while he exhaled deeply as the door closed behind him. A few heads turned towards the two of you, curious as to who had entered the shop, before everyone went back to their conversations. Seunghyun's hood had found its way back over his hair, as a protection to avoid being recognized by anyone on the way. Especially now that he was with you, he wanted to avoid another run-in with one of his fans.

His palm carefully and a little uncertainly placed itself on your lower back to push you towards a cozy free table in the corner. The table was made of old wood, in a round shape with a baby pink tablecloth and small scented candles, the two chairs that stood opposite each other were each decorated with a seat cushion, matching the tablecloth. The table seemed to be made for the two of you, so you gave him a smile as you sat down on one of the two chairs, and were pleased to find out that it was quite comfortable.

He stopped just before the table, eyes on you as you rolled your two suitcases into the corner next to you, before he exhaled deeply, straightened his coat and sat down opposite you, thankful that you had left him the seat that had his back to the others to avoid recognition.

He slowly pulled his black coat off his shoulders before hanging it over his chair behind him, to which you also took off your baby pink coat. Your hands rested on the table in front of you, the cold wood touching your palms as your thumb ran awkwardly over the soft skin of your other thumb, your breathing shallow as you tilted your head slightly uncertainly.

"So..." Your voice was soft and a little uncertain. You hadn't known him long enough to know what to talk about, but long enough to know that he didn't seem to like talking about his job, or at least making a big deal out of it. You were sure that he was pretty proud of his band members, you had enough chances to watch their interviews, and it was obvious that they were very important to him.

You liked that he cared so much about others and that he was less superficial, although you thought he should be pretty proud of himself as well, as he had come a long way. You knew that at the beginning of his career he was very insecure about his deep voice, but over time he learned to like it, grew more comfortable with it and let himself go. He was now the main rapper in the band, and he inspired other people with deep voices to start making music too.

Seunghyun cleared his throat, a little embarrassed, not knowing what to talk to you about now, even though he hadn't thought about anything else on the way there. "So..." His deep voice sent a shiver down your spine as you shifted nervously in your seat.

"Uhm so what brings you to Korea?" His hand ran over his chin and your eyes followed his every move while you imagined how it would feel to run your hand over his chin, so sharp it could probably cut paper. He seemed really interested in the answer and that warmed your heart, his brown eyes shone with interest and he looked so innocent at that moment that you suddenly got the urge to squeeze his cheeks.

Embarrassed by your own train of thought, you cleared your throat as your elbow rested on the table, your chin resting in your palm. You paused for a moment before answering him. "Well, I finished my degree in fashion design, and... now that I have that behind me, I have decided that I don't want to spend my future there anymore." As you spoke, you tilted your head slightly, your gaze wandering uncontrollably, a habit you had had for ages.

Seunghyun's lips twitched a small dimple smile as he looked at you quietly while he listened to you and nodded for you to continue. "I've lived there my whole life and I just had to get out, you know? I need a new place, new people around me." It was surprisingly easy for you to talk to him about private things, as you usually find it difficult to quickly become comfortable with strangers, but he made it quite easy for you and that made you very happy.

"And for Korea- I've always wanted to visit Korea since I was little, I used to watch a lot of kdramas, I still do and I don't know- it was always my dream to experience a story like that." A short laugh escaped you as you placed your arm flat on the table, shaking your head, one of your curls slipping from your right shoulder.

Seunghyun didn't even notice how he was slowly fading out the conversation of the other people in the cafe and how you were taking up more and more of his focus and how everything else except you was becoming unimportant. His body had never felt so relaxed and his heart was beating in a calm rhythm. He couldn't believe how you could make him feel, even though he had only known you for an hour and he couldn't imagine a minute without you, that was crazy for him, because never in his life had a woman made him feel like that.

He always had problems with committing to someone, especially touching was a big part of it and no woman ever seemed to be able to handle it, so it was even more strange for him the many times you had touched each other in the last hour and how he didn't seem to mind. If not, it was actually him who longed for one of your touches and always found himself reaching for you.

"I guess it's kinda silly, but I believe in it." You finished your explanation, a hint of pink now covering your cheeks, a little embarrassed about what he would think, although the opinion of others was usually pretty unimportant to you. It was a new feeling, but you didn't necessarily mind. Seunghyun couldn't help but laugh too, his heart warmed, your gentle laughter as sweet as music to his ears.

Your fingers found the cold iron of your bracelet, which you had received as a farewell gift from a friend you met at university, as your laughter slowly died down, now a small, somewhat shy smile on your lips covered with liogloss as you heard his laughter for the first time. Maybe not completely for the first time, as you had heard it several times in his bigbang interviews, but at least for the first time in person, and from that moment on you had decided to do everything you could, to hear it even more often in the future.

"It's not. I get it, believe me, better than you think." He replied with a twitch in his lips as he exhaled shallowly, a gleam in his eyes as he leaned back slightly in his chair, his brown hair tickling his forehead as he folded his arms over his chest and adjusted his seat. A lump formed in your throat, which you immediately swallowed down, as this movement of his was strangely attractive.

Seunghyun leaned his head back briefly in thought as he replayed your words, his chin slightly tensed before he looked you in the eyes again, smiling, his facial features unrealistically soft and you couldn't help but want to melt away. "So you studied fashion design? That's pretty impressive." He couldn't help but think that this fact about you had made you even better.

Since you are working a lot with creative and artistic talent, and he was quite interested in art and the like, you both had something in common at this point already and he couldn't help but be overjoyed about it, which was pretty obvious to see. He would be lying if he said he wasn't interested in learning more about your experience with fashion design and he couldn't wait to learn more about you in general.

Your eyes widened a little after his statement and a little tingling formed in your stomach, and without being able to control it, you found yourself longing for more of his compliments. You couldn't believe how sweet he was to you, you weren't used to men like that in your home country, everyone there was pretty unfriendly and disrespectful, especially towards women, which was one of the reasons why you were never able to really commit to a man in a deeper level.

Your fingers brushed a strand of hair behind your ear as you smiled at him a little uncertainly. "Thank you." His eyes looked at your lips for a millisecond where he could see the shine of the lip gloss before he licked his own and looked back into your eyes, swallowing. "Don't thank me, Angel." He spoke quietly, not noticing how the nickname slipped over his lips again without any problems, but you did.

And it made your heart skip a beat, your lips parted and a shaky breath escaped you as you forced yourself not to turn pink. It was really weird how you were acting and your body seemed to do what it wanted, you couldn't even control it. Your lips pressed together as he gave you a sweet dimple smile before you returned it.

"What's your plan now? Anything in mind?" Your conversation seemed much more relaxed than at the beginning and that calmed him down. His fingers reached for the menu that he hadn't noticed before, before he handed it to you, whereupon you gratefully accepted it and opened the first page made of plastic.

"Well, so far my plan would be to become self-employed, I would like to have my own Label." You looked up briefly to catch his reaction, his eyes widened a little, a gleam of admiration visible, and his lips were slightly parted. To say he was impressed would be an understatement. It wasn't that he was surprised, he was simply speechless, because this fact not only made you even more attractive, but also officially made you his soul mate, it had to be that way, there was no other explanation.

A certain emotion of pride bubbled in his chest before he could stop it and as he watched you press your lips together, your eyes gently glancing over the menu in your hands. He felt the sudden urge to press his lips to yours, to taste your sweet taste and to let himself fall into that feeling. He didn't even seem to be able to control his thoughts, he was so caught up in you.

He shook his head, berating himself as he shook his head, palm now resting on his forehead, before exhaling deeply and forcing himself to relax and appear calm. "That's really wow- I really hope that this works out for you." His deep voice had a hint of intensity that made you look up again, goosebumps spreading across your arms before you gave him a sweet smile that warmed his heart.

"That's really sweet of you." Your soft voice made him blink slowly as you decided on a waffle and a latte before slowly pushing the menu over to him, carefully past the burning candles. His cheeks warmed and he nodded in agreement, not knowing what to say in response. He decided to just stay quiet to avoid saying anything stupid before turning his attention to the menu.

After he also decided on a waffle and a mint tea, a lady wearing an apron came over to your table, a polite smile quivered on her lips as she asked you what you wanted to order, smiling, you did your best to answer her in Korean before she nodded and got to work.

Seunghyun's chin tensed to keep it from falling, still surprised and impressed by how good your pronunciation was, you just seemed to get better and better by the minute and that drove him crazy. So many thoughts were running through his head, one of them was the fear that he seemed to completely misjudge the situation and that you saw it all as just a friendly gesture, because that was exactly what he didn't want you to think. He had hoped that the invitation to a cafe would give you a hint that he was at least interested in you and not on a friendly level.

He still couldn't tell exactly how you felt about the situation, but he did notice the few times your cheeks turned pink, or how you avoided eye contact with him, or how you gave him that sweet little smile. Of course, he could have misunderstood it all and you were just being friendly, but god, he hoped not everyone would see that smile from you.

Not to be dramatic, but he would die for that smile.

In the short time that he had known you, he had become so addicted to that little smile, to you in general, and of course it scared him, but on the other hand it also gave him hope. Hope for something good in his life, because he knew that if you gave him the chance to continue to be in your life, he would never be unhappy again. How could he with you by his side? Maybe he was a little hasty, but from the moment your eyes met in the train station, he just knew. There was a connection between you and his heart had already decided before his head could even think twice.

"May I ask you something?" Your voice brought him out of his trance and, somewhat embarrassed, he raised his hand to scratch the back of his head before nodding at you. Your lips were pressed together to stop a smile. "How did you come up with the idea of ​​dyeing your hair a bright blue?" A quiet giggle followed before you could stop it.

Instantly his eyes closed and his head tipped forward and fell into his hands with a low grumble that only made your grin grow even wider. He had already figured that such a question would come from you sooner or later, after the comment about his blue hair in the alley half an hour earlier, but he had hoped that he could avoid it. He had never thought about it before, but now with you, someone he obviously wanted to impress, he couldn't help but feel embarrassed about his actions a few years ago.

When he dyed his hair, years ago, he thought he would look cool and that people would look twice as they walked by, but right now he would do anything to undo it. " Please don't remind me." He muttered into his hands after a long silence, his cheeks pink.

Your face softened as you exhaled in amusement before your hands slowly reached for his, your touch gentle and instantly your skin tingled like an electric shock. You paused briefly before carefully removing your hands from his face and giving him a smile. Both of your hearts were pounding in your chest as your eyes met. "Don't get me wrong. I always thought it was so cool, I even considered dyeing my hair that color too, but my mom stopped me." Laughing, you put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from laughing even more and his shoulders immediately sagged in relief before an amused smile appeared on his lips.

"Wait really?" His eyes shone with emotion as he looked at you, his eyes blinking slowly while he could still feel your touch on his skin, the spot tickling in longing to feel it again. If his friends heard how he was behaving right now, they would laugh at him, but he couldn't force himself to care.

Nodding, your laughter ended, but a wide grin still on your lips. "Really." You replied a little breathlessly before leaning further back in your chair, your arms now crossed in front of your chest, which shook a little heavily up and down while your warm breath flowed from your lips.

A boyish grin graced his lips as he tilted his head back slightly, his Adam's apple poking out, a taste that made you swallow. "Well in that case... when I was brushing my teeth I got the toothpaste from one of my friends Daesong, it was baby blue and when I looked in the mirror I imagined what it would look like and the next day I just did it." It wasn't a particularly imaginative story, quite simple and boring, but that's how it was. He shrugged his shoulders a little to downplay it when he noticed the gleam in your eyes.

To be honest, you had already thought that it would just be something like that and it wouldn't be anything creative, but hearing it like that made you grin in amusement, your eyebrows raised a little. "Seriously? You just decided on the spur of the moment?"

He nodded and let out a breath, but he didn't feel as stupid because of you as he did before and he was happy about how relaxed he was in your presence. You really didn't seem to judge him at all and he really appreciated that. "I'm a pretty spontaneous person." Was his answer with a playful grin.

Nodding, you tilted your head slightly to the side to get a better look at him, it felt so good to talk to him, you hadn't felt like this in a long time and it warmed your heart. You had only been in Korea for a little over an hour, and you couldn't wait to see what it would be like to live here forever, with the hope that Seunghyun would be with you in that future.

"I like that." You answered him softly as you exhaled deeply and looked at him with a warm look, the same look he looked at you with. A few tables away, some heads turned towards you, admiring the two of you looking at each other, thinking that you were both in a relationship, but you both didn't even seem to notice, too engrossed in the little bubble you had built for yourselves.

You both hoped that it wouldn't be the last time you would see each other, and Seunghyun would make sure that there would be many, many more such meetings between you, Because he wouldn't miss this opportunity to have you in his life for anything in this world and he would do anything to keep you in his life. And that forever.

[bambisworlds]

after show special

harry can't wait to get you alone after his concert, so he takes you to his dressing room (1,383 word count)

content warnings, mdni 18+

f!reader, slight dom!harry, sassy!harry, cocky!harry, established relationship, oral (f. receiving), fingering, light squirting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), light breath play, spanking (once), praise, creampie, no direct character description, use of "good girl", let me know if i missed anything x

my masterlist

this is my first fic, please be nice i'm sensitive lol <3

I bit my lip with a slight smile as I started to record Harry while he sang Watermelon Sugar. Like magnets, his eyes found mine in the crowd. I smiled as his gaze landed on me. I expected him to blow a kiss, or do something cute for the camera like usual, but the look he gave me... I knew I was fucked.

The minute Harry walked off the stage he pulled me into a devouring kiss. My brain seemed to block out the screams of the fans, which got louder when his lips touched mine. All I could feel was him.

"Come with me," he smirks, yanking my hand to drag me along. He pulled me through the hallways until we reached his dressing room. He practically shoved me inside then kicked the door shut and locked it behind him. He walked over and scooped me up into his arms, my legs dangling around his waist. He set me on the leather couch, immediately attacking me with kisses while his hands explored my body like his life depended on it. My back arched off the sofa in an attempt to maximize the closeness between us. His hands moved down to grip my thighs beneath my skirt, squeezing the soft flesh. While our tongues tangled together he pushed my legs up to my chest and pulled away, settling between my spread legs in a flash.

He sat on the balls of his feet as he ripped my panties off, literally. With a moan he launched forward, burying his face between my thighs. The rings on his fingers dug into the sensitive flesh of my thighs as he ate me out with wild abandon.

My lips parted into an 'oh' shape as my head fell back against the couch. My hands blindly reach for something and grip onto the leather cushions of the couch. The lewd slurping and wet sounds from between my legs spurred me on, and the groaning of the leather couch when I fidgeted.

I gasped and reached down to grip his hair as he pistoned his tongue in and out of my hole. My back arches off the bed from the delicious friction. I look down at Harry briefly to realize his eyes have been locked on my face the entire time. His eyes were dark, heated with sexual energy. I shivered under his gaze and he smirked, focusing back on my pussy.

Harry pulled back briefly, spit on my pussy, then went back at it. "Jesus..." I mutter, my eyes fluttering shut as he suctioned on my clit. Harry's hands disappeared from my thighs as he began to remove his rings. He mutters 'stupid fuckin' things' as he struggles to get one off. The second it was off he haphazardly tossed it onto the floor. His left hand pushed my left thigh up against my chest again and he slid his right middle finger into me. I gasp and my back arches from the lewd squelch of his finger pumping into me.

"Fuck," he moans lowly from the audible wetness of my cunt. With a gravelly groan, he began to lick and suck on my clit again, his middle finger pumping in and out of me. I squirt slightly as his finger brushes against my g-spot and Harry moans loudly, his eyes rolling back as he eats me out with renewed vigor, his finger pumping faster.

My moans grow more desperate as my orgasm builds rapidly within me. My mouth drops open and I arch off the bed as I cum. My thighs tremble and squeeze around Harry's head tightly but his ministrations don't relent.

Only when I go limp and the trembling of my legs turn to twitching does he pull away with a satisfied sigh, his lips and chin glistening in my slick. As if unable to resist, he leans back in to place a long lick up my slit before finally rising to his feet.

My eyes follow his face as I stand. My breasts were heaving beneath the tight, black, crop top I was wearing. My eyes flickered down the obvious bulge in his trousers as he rose to his full height and I gulped.

Harry bends down, picks me up, and spins us around so I'm sitting on his lap. He leans in and captures his lips with mine, kissing me hungrily as he shoves my shirt up over the swell of my breasts. Without looking, he yanks my bra down so my breasts spill out and his large hands cup them eagerly. I moan sweetly as I kiss him, tasting myself on his tongue as his hands squeeze and grope at my tits.

I roll my hips as we kiss, rubbing my bare cunt against the bulge in his trousers. Harry smirks against my lips with a dark chuckle, "Need something, princess?" he teases, his breath hot against my lips. He pulls back from my mouth as he unzips his trousers and pulls his cock out. I subconsciously lick my lips, looking back and forth between his face and hardened cock. "Go ahead then," he says flatly. He leans back against the couch with a cocky smirk. It amazed me how he was so sweet to me in everyday life, then turned into a smug bastard whenever we had sex. I'll admit, it's hot.

I reach down and give his cock a few slow tugs before lifting myself and hovering over it. His eyes remain locked on my face as I position the tip at my entrance. My hips rock subtly as I coat the head of his cock in my juices and he bites his lip. His eyes flicker down between my legs briefly before returning to my face. "You gonna play with it all day, or fuck it?" Harry asks flatly. I roll my eyes good-naturedly and slowly sink onto his cock. 

Harry lets out a ragged moan, his head falling back against the sofa. "That's it," he encourages as I slowly work my way down his impressive length. When I lower myself completely, so his balls were pressed against my ass, he hisses, "Jesus Christ."

I refocus on his face. His eyes were blown out and filled with hunger as he stared at me. My hips begin to rock in slow motions and Harry's mouth drops open. 

"Fuck yeah," he encourages, resting his large hands on my hips. He guides my movements, yet allows me to pick the pace. My lips part in a breathy moan as I continue my slow, tantalizing movements. Harry's moans were all the encouragement I needed as I began to bounce on his lap. "Oh fuck," he gasps as I start to bounce enthusiastically on him. He let out a heavy breath with each of my downward thrusts, his green eyes flickering all over my body. 

The wet slap of flesh only spurred me on further. Harry's hands began to roam over my body. They slid up my sides, to my breasts, then up until one of them wrapped loosely around my throat. The display made my pussy clench and he smirked knowingly, tightening his grip. 

Harry's other hand came down on my ass with a sharp smack, "Keep going." he says huskily and I moan desperately in response, picking up my pace. 

"Oh god," I gasp, my eyes squeezing shut as the coil in me threatens to snap. My movements become desperate and erratic as I chase my release. Harry's moans grow louder, his hand tightening around my throat.

"Good job baby, come on my cock," he encourages breathlessly. 

After a few more desperate motions I cum, my body shuddering violently. I let out a shaky moan and fell forward so my forehead rested against his shoulders. 

"Fucking hell," Harry grunts, bucking his hips up into mine as he cums as well. I moan sweetly as I feel the familiar warmth of his cum inside me and roll my hips slightly, prolonging both of our pleasures. After a few moments, I shiver and still on his lap. We both pant as we come down from our highs. "I almost cut the set list in half just so we could do this." Harry chuckles breathily and his head falls back against the couch, sighing in satisfaction. 

if you have any requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below any of my posts or in my submissions!! (check here: about my blog  to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)

[alicentofhightower]

widow

pairing: helaena targaryen x maid!reader

synopsis: helaena yearns for more insects to cradle, and you are all too willing to add to her collection.

includes: pre-b&c helaena but post aegon’s coronation, just cute lil crushes, fluff

wc: 1232

a/n: hiiii!! i wrote this for a twitter oomf so if u see this i hope u like it <3 this might be a bit ooc bc this is my first time writing for her but i tried lmao

-

Perhaps it was a bit stupid for you to be so afraid of insects while you worked in such a large castle, but the thought of little spiders crawling around frightened you nonetheless. The Red Keep was a monstrous thing, with halls seemingly never ending and chambers large enough to house an entire family. It was only natural for such little creatures to infest it.

You’d never understood why Helaena was so fond of them. Out of all of the royal family, she was the one you were closest to. Many of the other maids you worked with whispered of what a strange woman the Queen was, with her peculiar mumblings and odd tastes, but she was the sweetest woman you’d ever met.

A Targaryen dragonrider, she was, the mother of the heir to the Iron Throne and King Aegon’s only daughter, but she was so gentle. You suppose it was only logical you’d developed a crush alike to a green boy’s on her. Helaena had always had an aversion to touch, but you were the only one she allowed to braid her hair, and sometimes her fingers would trace indecipherable shapes on the back of your hand. You wondered what they meant.

“I’d like for more little bugs,” she tells you one day while you braid her hair. Wavy and soft, it was, befitting one of her station. “They are my only company when the children are at their lessons. I enjoy hearing their whispers.” You fight the urge to raise a brow at that, knowing Helaena’s wisdom often presented itself in riddles.

She sat on a velvet-cushioned chair in front of her vanity, adorning a blue dress matching Dreamfyre’s scales and a silver-chained necklace. Nimble fingers play with her wedding ring as you finish up, and it’s clear she’s making an effort to sit up straight. She’d never had good posture, but she’d try for you.

You place your hands on her shoulders as you bend to the level of her ear. The feel of them is purposely light and feathery, meant to make it easy for her to brush them off if she so desires. “Mayhaps you might ask your lord husband for more,” You say, your tone tender as always.

“He does not take interest in what I do.” Her words are simple and to the point. That was always how she spoke of Aegon. Then, she turns to face you, a small smile fixed on her face. The way the light from the window illuminates her face makes her resemble an angel.

She places her hand on top of where yours rests on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “Thank you,” she says sincerely, then smooths out the wrinkles of her periwinkle gown and stands. You find yourself getting lost in the deep blue of her eyes, ever so alluring.

Only a moment later, you snap out of it, bowing your head to her and leaving the room with haste. It was improper for a person of your standing to carry such intimate affections for a royal woman, nevermind the fact that you were one yourself. Yet, you could not force yourself to ignore the thought that had come to you — to get Helaena more of her little bugs.

-

Your attempts to suppress your fears do not work. You find yourself asking yourself why you’re even putting yourself through this much trouble for just a few bugs, but you shrug it off and keep going.

You barely even recognize the hall you’re in, and you can’t remember the last time you’ve been here. You grip your scarlet skirts closer to you with one hand and grasp the candle tightly in the other, letting out a shaky sigh that echoes through the corridor.

You’re here with one goal in mind: get Helaena her silly spider, then run to her chambers so you never have to hold it again. To touch such a wretched thing will disgust you, no doubt, but it is worth it if it is for her. Thoughts of its impropriety are repressed yet again when you bend down to get a look at the stone floor.

It’s repulsive. What seems like thousands of thick cobwebs cover the parts of the stone by the wall, waiting to be stepped on by a group of nobles on the morrow. How do they come so fast? You do not wish to know the answer.

Swallowing down a dramatic shudder, you extend your hand, palm up, in search of an insect you think Helaena will take a liking to. You’re careful with the torch you hold, tilting it down to get a closer look at the sight before you.

There’s a little army of them, it seems, though they’re all spread out. A black widow catches your eye almost immediately, and it almost looks like its beady eyes are staring right through you. Like there’s someone behind you.

You whip your head around, but there’s no one there. “Come on, sweet thing,” You whisper, but it’s mostly to yourself rather than to the little recluse you grab speedily. You cannot fight the yelp that escapes from your throat when you feel its legs poking around in the gaps between your closed fingers.

You practically run up the steps towards where the royal chambers are after that, ignoring the piercing stares you receive from the other maids, the guards, and the noblemen alike. Fuck them, you think, ignoring the fact you’re going to repent at the Sept later for utilizing such a foul word, this is for the Queen.

Quite rudely, you realize later, you burst through the doors of Helaena’s chambers and feel a wave of guilt when you see how she startles at the noise of it. She’d always been sensitive to loud interruptions.

“Your grace,” you squeak, almost wincing at the tone of your voice. Helaena sets her embroidery hoop aside, and you can’t help but notice how similar the spider in it looks to the one in your palm. Wide eyes study you as you move to sit on the floor beside her. It’s far more clean than the hallway.

Gentle hands reach for yours. “What’s the matter?” She asks, always so empathetic, and her lips part in surprise when she sees the bug you hold. Never had you spoken of it to her, probably not wishing to offend her somehow, but she’d always known of your aversion to such critters.

She reaches for it herself, smiling softly at the feeling of its tiny legs crawling over her wrist. Gasping, as if realizing what you’ve done for her, she sets the thing in one of the empty cages behind her and turns her full attention to you. “Thank you,” she says sincerely. “You did not have to.”

“You said it yourself, my Queen. You required more of them, did you not?”

Her cheeks flush at that, a rare sight. Gingerly, almost afraid that you’ll pull away in repulsion of her touch, she places a kiss onto your temple. An honor, you’ll realize later, knowing of her usual unwillingness when it comes to physical touch.

A tentative finger traces the lines of your palm. Her eyes are still fixed on you. “…I’ve never had someone care so much for what I desire,” She admits, “or mine own interests.”

Suddenly, she interlaces her fingers with yours. “Will you stay?”

[jadeshifting]

— PLACES TO SCRIPT (HOGSMEADE)

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

🪼 — THE HOGSMEADE TROLLEY glides through the village on invisible tracks, its smooth wooden exterior adorned with shimmering silver and gold filigree and glowing lanterns that cast a warm, inviting light. Enchanted to give off the sounds of lightly ringing bells, you can hear it coming from a block away, and it carries passengers from one end of town to the other without needing a driver Inside. Riders can sit in cushioned seats to enjoy their journey, or more haphazardly stand or hang off the side while holding onto the bar

🪼 — THE SORCERER’S SCONE is a charming bakery tucked away in a cobblestone corner of Hogsmeade, where the sweet scent of fresh pastries and the soft glow of fairy lights lure passersby inside. The shelves are always stocked with warm, buttery croissants, cakes that shimmer with enchantments, and delicate sugar cookies shaped like miniature broomsticks

🪼 — VELVET & LACE is Hogsmeade’s premier formal wear boutique, offering a dazzling collection of enchanted gowns, tailored robes, and wizarding suits. Each garment is crafted to ensure a perfect fit, making it the most-wanted destination before any dance or event. The shop’s opulent interior, adorned with floating mirrors and soft candlelight, makes every visit feel like a step into a royal castle

🪼 — FLOREAN’S FROSTED FLAVORS is a cozy ice cream parlor known for its enchanted scoops that sparkle, swirl, and sometimes change colors. With a constantly changing menu of magical flavors like Butterbeer Swirl and Fizzing Chocolate Chip, it’s a favorite spot for students and locals alike. The atmosphere is warm and filled with the soft hum of chatter and the occasional laughter from the enchanted toppings misbehaving

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

🪼 — THE ENCHANTED EASEL is a whimsical arts and crafts shop where paints shimmer with magical hues and quills sketch on their own. Shelves overflow with supplies from self-weaving yarn to enchanted parchment that animates drawings. It’s a hot spot for creative witches and wizards seeking the right materials for all their different hobbies

🪼 — MAGIC MIRROR is a luxurious shop nestled in Hogsmeade, offering a wide range of magical makeup, hair products, and skincare potions. With shimmering shelves stocked with enchanted creams and shimmering powders, customers can indulge in the finest products, crafted to bring out their inner radiance with a little magical help

🪼 — THE QUAFFLE CLOSET is a cozy, no-frills shop tucked away on a side street in Hogsmeade, offering an eclectic collection of secondhand robes, dresses, and accessories at remarkably low prices. The shelves are stacked with vibrant, well-loved garments from past seasons, with charms used to make them look refreshed. Though humble, it’s a favorite spot for students looking to snag a deal or find something truly unique

🪼 — PRIMWICK’S PIES is a cozy, magical pizzeria in Hogsmeade, where wood-fired pizzas are crafted with enchanted ingredients and topped with a multitude of flavors. The rustic interior is warm and inviting, with bubbling cauldrons of sauce and enchanted ovens that hum with a gentle, glowing heat

🪼 — THE BLOOMING BOUGH is a charming florist shop where blooms thrive in year round, regardless of the season. Enchanted roses change color with your mood, and whispering vines curl gently around curious hands. The air is filled with the scent of fresh flowers, and the skill of the florists make it a favorite stop for romantic gestures and seasonal celebrations

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

🪼 — SHEAR DELIGHT is a cozy, inviting hair salon and barbershop in Hogsmeade where both wizards and witches come for trims and new styles. The atmosphere is lively and friendly, endless amounts of gossip is spilled between stylist and client, and customers leave looking their best

🪼 — OPAL & ONYX is a charming jeweler’s shop in Hogsmeade, its windows sparkling with an array of enchanted rings, necklaces, and bracelets that catch the light in mesmerizing ways. Each piece is crafted by hand, many are imbued with protective charms. Whether seeking a gift or a personal keepsake, the shop offers something for every occasion

🪼 — MOONLIT MYSTIC is nestled between two towering oak trees at the outskirts of town, draped in rich velvet curtains and flickering candlelight. Inside, an ornate crystal ball rests on a velvet cushion, surrounded by ancient tarot decks and incense smoke that dances in the air. You can pay to have your fortune told here, though it’s still unconfirmed whether the elderly witch is a talented divinator, or a scammer

🪼 — THE SALTY TIDE is a cozy seafood restaurant in Hogsmeade, where the air is thick with the scent of freshly caught fish and magically created ocean breezes whistle through the windows. Its rustic wooden tables and softly glowing lanterns illuminate the walls, which are lined with aquariums filled with shimmering fish. The menu features a variety of magical and muggle-inspired seafood dishes

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[tojipie]

I love your prison bf toji series so much!! Also, in the newest installment of the series Toji says that Shiu has had a crush on the reader for a while? I’d love to see how this crush developed, how Toji found out and how Shiu dealt with his feelings!!

ughhhhgghgg i love this prompt so much :(( bless your heart you’re a genius <3

prison bf toji series linked here <3

context ! -> fic takes place very early on in reader and toji’s relationship. this is pre-prison and at a point where he hasn’t introduced him to his men yet :D hopefully this makes sense !

content: fem reader, brief piv smut, mentions of incarceration, objectification of reader by stranger, fluff, they make up dw ! jealousy, angst, unrequited love

purple hickeys bloom across your chest as toji makes his way from shoulder to shoulder, pinching bouts of delicate skin between his teeth while length ruts into you.

the drag of his cock is delicious, hitting that special spot at just the right angle from the way he has you laid out on the couch, both legs thrown over his shoulder with your head propped up on a cushion.

toji was always like this after securing a deal at work, soft, sensual, taking his time with your body as an act of celebration. half-empty glasses of champagne still lie on the coffee table where you’d left them, leaving rings of cool sweat on the glass surface.

“gonna cum,” he groans, pulling away from your neck with a pop and blowing cool air against the saliva-soaked hickey. you squirm at the stimulation, throwing your head back as your high creeps up on you t— was that a key in the door?

toji pulls out of you with unmatched speed, reaching for a couch cushion to shield his manhood. he rucks a throw blanket over your body with a string of curses, using his massive build to hide the silhouette of your body from view. 

“what’d i tell you about waltzing into my fucking house?” your boyfriend yells, staring down the suit-clad stranger with a look that screams blood-lust.

the smile that breaks out on the man’s face is nothing short of filthy, eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat

“awww didya get us a hooker boss-man?” he sneers, cigarette hanging from his lips. “could’ve waited till i showed up to start but i’m down for whatever.” he laughs, gingerly placing a pristine briefcase on the coffee table before taking your discarded bottle of champagne as a parting gift.

“don’t have too much fun, alright?” he teases, stepping out the door as quickly as he’d come in.

the two of you are speechless for several minutes, looking back and forth between each other, the door he didn’t even bother to close, and the mystery briefcase you’re not sure you want to see opened. 

toji sits up with a string of curses, stalking over to kick the door shut with a sigh. 

“that’s.. shiu,” he mumbles, clearly embarrassed. 

you sit up from your spot on the couch, letting the blanket guarding your modesty slip down to your waist. toji settles down on the opposite side of the couch, arms outstretched to let you climb onto his naked form. 

“handles money,” he clarifies, tracing abstract shapes onto your spine. “my cut from today is in the case.”

“do you trust him?” 

he nods, resting his head in the crook of your neck with a sigh.

you figure that’s all you need to know.

˚ ✧ ──────────────────────

the apology shiu gives you the next time you meet goes on for ten minutes. variations of “fuck i didn’t know” and “i’m so so sorry i really am” spill from his lips while he bows at your feet, forehead firmly pressed to the wood floor of your dining room.

toji sits at the head of the table, shoveling bites of dinner into his mouth in between heart laughs.

“mmf— tell her again i don’t think she heard ya.”

the truth is you’d kind of forgotten about your boyfriend's right hand after the incident was over. was the hooker comment uncalled for? sure, but judging by the saturated fear in the suit-clad man’s eyes you figure toji had done something to set him straight.

plus you’d both gone two more rounds after the initial embarrassment had died down, making up for the little roadblock on your path to an orgasm. 

“it’s okay, promise,” you say quietly, not entirely sure what to say at this point. the suit-clad man stands again, bowing to both of you with a sigh. 

“now give her our little present,” toji says, stalking over with his arms crossed. 

a sealed bottle of champagne— the same kind he’d so graciously swiped from your home— is placed in the palm of your hands before you’re able to question either of them. 

you shoot the other man a greatful smile, and shiu realizes he quite likes the feeling of your soft hand shaking his.

˚ ✧ ──────────────────────

toji’s annual new year party was a sight to behold. alcohol, dancers, and booming music was the typical atmosphere, though the event had taken a complete turn once you’d entered the picture. 

gone were the days of loose dollar bills and stray panties littering the floor, the smell of sex and smoke in the air.

in were the days of… a modest bar and fancy catering, much to his men’s dismay.

toji didn’t quite know how to throw a party that could be deemed “professional” but he figured not having strippers at the house might’ve been a step in the right direction. some of the guys even brought their wives this time, fun right?

and so, toji sits toward the back of the room, watching you socialize with a drink in hand, his best friend beside him. 

tension hangs in the air as both men watch you from afar. one with pride, the other with longing.

“do you want her?”

“… what?”

toji doesn’t elaborate on the cryptic question, peering at his friend over the rim of his glass.

shiu pauses, downing the rest of his drink as he thinks of what to say. a warm hand settles on the meat of his shoulder, letting him know it’s ok.

“yeah man, i do,” he admits, too ashamed to look up from the floor.

greed. the word that’d graced toji’s knuckles since the day he turned 19. black ink needled into a canvas of tan skin, bleeding into the rest of the tattoos like water flowing upstream. 

it fit him perfectly. it did then, and it does now. toji always gets what he wants, regardless of how other people feel. a man overcome by what he believes he deserves. 

the hug he’s pulled into isn't filled with malice. the threat of violence isn’t there, unlike the time toji had taken him by the collar and threatened to gut him like a fish over the comments shiu had made the first time he met you. 

this hug is.. soft. inviting. an embrace that tells him “it’s okay, i trust you.” the fact that toji hasn’t bashed his nose into his skull is a telltale sign that there’s no fault in feeling the way he does, so long as he doesn’t act on it.

shiu truly doesn’t know what to say other than yes, he does want you. he wants you to be the one he comes home to each night, he wants your soft skin on his, wants to spoil you and make you smile.

you were kind, attentive, shy at times. the complete opposite of toji and his brutish demeanor. a flower cradled in the hand of a dragon.

but you weren’t his, and you never would be. not when toji had been the one to sweep you off your feet, securing a place for himself in your heart that shiu could never fill. 

and that was ok. he was here for his job, not you. shiu was fine with you being oblivious to his feelings, in fact, it was better that way for the three of you.

that’s exactly why he breaks away from the hug as you pad over to their table, shooting you both an apologetic smile before heading over to the bar. as long as he’d still be able to catch a glimpse of you every now and then, he’d live. 

edit: forgot abt the taglist oopsies 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru @aroxwq @i-literally-cant-with-this @emikokomura @moonriseoverkyoto

[awakenedevildays]

「take-out and matches」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

you can read the other parts here!

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

currently thinking of Art watching his latest match on tv to see the mistakes he has done and how he can improve: he is sitting with his bare back comfortably resting against the cushion of the couch, arms crossed against his chest and legs slightly spread and if it wasn't for his eyes fixed on the TV, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips forming a thin line you wouldn't have never guessed he was so focused.

You are watching him from the door of the living room with his shirt on and slighlty disheveled hair tucked behind your ears, your lips curled into a smile while the fingers of your right hand unconsciously go to play with the engagement ring on the left one. Your eyes follow your own movements for a few seconds before hearing a soft rustle against the fabric of the couch that brings you to look at your fiancé again, he is still looking the tv but his lips are shaped into a small smile and his arms are uncrossed, one tapping against his thigh repeatedly and the other is laid out on the cushions for you to take. You swiftly pad towards him and take his left hand in yours, letting him help you climb on his lap like it's the hardest thing you have to do; he kisses your hand before letting you unwrap yours from his to let you hug his neck with both arms, your head falling in between them and against his throat while he caress your thighs with both hands, your chests pressed together and your legs on both sides of him. 

You both stay silent for a few minutes, the tennis ball being hit over and over and the claps of the people on the tv were the only sounds you could hear along with the gentle breathing of Art under you. 

“You did great today” you mumble against his throat before kissing it. 

“Only because you were there” he replies, his hands moving in up and down motions on your legs “didn’t feel like losing in front of you” you smile and lean back to look at him. 

“You would have been great even then” he finally tears away his eyes from the tv and looks at you, eyes softening seeing your messy hair and droopy eyes caused by the two hours nap you two had.

“I think you're slightly biased” he teases and, while you reach behind you to take the remote from the table in front of the couch, his hands wraps around your middle to prevent you from falling.

You pause the match “I’m just honest, the fact that I’m your fiancée doesn’t have anything to do with my opinion about your game” you turn back to him and comb his blond hair with your fingers. 

“Sure it doesn’t” he sarcastically mumbles while his head drops against your chest in a relaxed way, his arms squeezing around you even tighter making your back arch and chest press more against his face. 

“What do you want to eat? I was thinking we could stay here and order takeaway” your fingers massage the nape of his neck and head. 

“Hamburger sounds nice” he mutters sleepily and you chuckle. 

“You'll have to keep this from your nutritionist” a groan came out of his mouth and a mumbled ‘let’s not talk about my job anymore’ vibrates in your chest. 

“I'll have to find a way to burn the calories quickly though, any idea?" He playfully bites your neck, you shudder taking his face between your hands “i might have a few...” and start to kiss all his face except his lips while he sits there with his eyes semi-closed, his head nuzzles the palm of your left hand. 

“You’re so pretty” he whispers “i really want to kiss you right now” goosebumps takes all over your body and your heart misses a beat, he knows what effect this phrase has on you… it was the same one he said your first date. 

For a moment you went back to 7 years before in your college days: when you were pressed between the passenger door of his car and his body after a walk on the beach, his jacket wrapped around your shoulders and your high-heels in one of his hands while the other had your fingers tangled together, and he whispered the same phrase that made your heart jump and goosebumps rise in the same way it did now. 

“Please do” and he does. 

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

[bandgie]

Who Dun It?

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

warnings! MDNI18+, fingering!!, (rough/soft) clitplay!!!, poly!skz, 4/8skz, hyung-line, slight mindbreak/subspace, super slight PIV

synopsis: After vowing to find the stranger who was tragically ripped away from you that unfortunate night, your simple plan turns messy when eight men claim to be the one you're looking for. Seven are surely lying, but what's the harm in indulging in all of them?

2.9k words

The cushions of the couch mold the shape of your body as you sit upon it. You find yourself picking at the loose strings anxiously, staring at the eight men who argue amongst themselves.

"He's lying!" It's Hyunjin who's shouting, a finger pointing at his younger frat brother. "He wasn't even there that night! He told me he had an essay due and couldn't come!"

Seungmin, as stoic as ever, rolls his eyes. "I finished early. I said that, like, 10 times. Are you stupid or something?"

It looks like Hyunjin might burst a vein from his neck, but Chan, the president of the frat, places a hand on Hyunjin's slender shoulder. "I don't think yelling will get us anywhere. Seungmin was there; He was fashionable late." He flashes a dimpled smile at you. "But you don't need to worry about who was there and who wasn't, baby, it was me."

Minho scoffs, "As if last I recall, you were too busy getting plastered to remember how to even finger someone."

You shift in your seat, drawing the attention of Felix who glances at you. He eyes you for a moment before wearing a look of sympathy on his face. "You don't have to stay here if you don't want to," his deep voice rings in your ear throughout the commotion. "I know the boys can be a little much," Felix gives a friendly smile. "We can always pick up where we left off next time." He finishes with a wink.

There's hardly any time to respond when Changbin loudly shouts, "Yah! Yongbok is cheating! He's putting fake memories in her head!"

Felix quickly puts his hands up in defense, "I was just saying she can leave if she feels uncomfortable. You guys aren't even letting her talk." Upon hearing his words, all the men quiet their bickering and finally give attention to you. All of a sudden, you rather liked it when they didn't have their focus on you.

"Are you? Uncomfortable I mean," Jisung frowns.

You shake your head, "No! No, I'm just nervous, I guess. I didn't think you guys would get so worked up over this. I thought one person would say it was them. Not...all of you."

This makes Chan laugh, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Yeah, well, you got more than you bargained for." A few of the men chuckle. "What do you think we should do then?"

"Me?" You point at yourself. 

It's Jisung that speaks, "Duuhh, you. You're the one who came here asking for your fingering prince. It's only fair you make the rules."

You can feel your face heat up at Jisung's joke, but he's right. The eight of them can argue all they want, but it's you who has the reins. One by one, you scan them. There are only vague memories from that night, and you can hardly tell who it might be just by looking at them. 

And it's then that an idea pops into your head. 

"I don't think I can make a decision just by looking at you guys," you admit. "I think it's better to replicate what happened."

"Replicate?" Jeongin raises an eyebrow and looks amongst his older frat brothers. "What do you mean?"

A sly smile makes its way on your already blushing face, "I think you know what I mean."

-

It makes sense to go from oldest to youngest. 

Chan did the honors of getting you nude waist-down despite Jisung's complaining. You spread your legs, placing your heels on the edge of the cushions with your back flushed against the couch. It's intimidating to see their eyes on you, traveling to your exposed cunt to your embarrassed expression. 

"You don't have to be shy baby," Chan smoothes his hand over your thigh. "Got such a pretty pussy. You should show it off all the time."

He laughs at your whine, finding his place beside you as he looks down at your nakedness. Chan hums, fingers traveling lower before going towards your knee again. You appreciate how he works you up. How he takes his time to make sure your hips try to maneuver for his hand to brush against your folds. 

Chan is experienced, that's for sure. Even if you can already tell he's not the one from that night, you don't dare tell him. It feels too good to stop what he's started.

"What do you think baby, hm?" He looks at you. "Is this enough to admit it was me? Or do you need a little more?"

You nod, "I think I need a little more." Spreading your legs as further instruction, you gasp when Chan finally makes contact with your heat. He smiles at your slack jaw, opting to kiss your neck and rub soft circles on your clit.

"Feels good, huh?" He mumbles in your ear. "Just tell them it was me, baby. We both know how badly you want to finish." 

It's true, you do want to finish. It's why your hips have picked themselves up from the couch and started rutting against his hand. Chan lets your wet folds run over the ridges of his fingers, pressing down more forcefully to add pressure. 

"Hey, you can't cum that quick!" Changbin protests against your arrival. "Just hurry up and say if it was him or not!"

You keep quiet, save for the breathy moans and hard breathing. If you do tell the truth, Chan will stop on the brink of your orgasm. But if you lie, everything will come to a stop.

"It's...it's," you shamelessly try to hump his hand, but the impatient look on the seven other guys makes you confess. "It's not."

There's a part of you that thinks Chan might keep going and just let you finish, but he pulls his hand away from you instead. His body completely withdraws from your own as he tuts, shaking his head. "Should've just lied. I would've let you cum as many times as you wanted."

You watch as he puts his soiled fingers in your mouth to suck on, earning a moan from your lips. 

Minho takes a different approach, opting to kneel before your spread legs and place his soft hands on the inner of your thighs. His sly eyes look up to your aroused ones as he smiles, "I'll be honest, it wasn't me. But you'll let me play with your pussy anyway, right?"

"No, she won't!" Hyunjin pouts, "You're wasting time! Shoo!"

While Hyunjin's long limbs flail in protest, you keep your attention on Minho. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, waiting for your response. Minho's warm breath sends chills when it comes into contact with your skin, and you find yourself nodding as you grip the undersides of your thighs.

He giggles, "Good girl."

You expect to feel his hot mouth, but you're surprised when he moves his hand to quickly rub against your clit. The sound of your wet folds reverberates throughout the apartment. Your clit is far too sensitive to be played so roughly with, but the sensation brings you back to the edge once more. 

Minho watches as your back arches off the couch, how you've thrown your head completely back in pure ecstasy. He leans down to peck the top of your pelvis, a contrast to his relentless rhythm. 

"I'm gonna cum," you whine. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Minho smiles, "All over my fingers huh? Little pussy can't handle all this, can she?" He slows his past momentarily to move his other hand towards your entrance, dripping a finger into your pulsing walls. The combination of the rubbing and thrusting has you trembling, hips bucking wildly until Chan has to hold the top of your shoulders from behind to keep you still.

"Stay still baby, you're moving so much." 

"So good," you look up at Chan. "Can't stop."

Chan watches as your face contorts into pleasure. Blinding heat fills your stomach and floods your pussy. You distantly hear Minho and a few of the other guys gasp when you cum. Arousal drips down Minho's wrist, pouring out from where his finger is inside. 

Finally, you pick your head up to look at the mess, surprised to see Changbin striding to where Minho sits. 

"Move move move! It's Binnie's turn!"

You whine when Minho removes his finger, but judging from the look on his face, he isn't too happy about it either. "Impatient ass," he sneers at Changbin, standing up. "I just started."

Changbin doesn't respond, too preoccupied with finding his place between your legs and tapping his cock on your swollen lips. 

You gasp, looking down to see the heaviness between his legs, standing unashamed and proud. 

"Gross dude!" Jeongin scrunches his nose in disgust. "Pull your pants up. I can see your ass hanging out."

Hyunjin and Seungmin laugh, but Changbin pays no mind. You've been told he has a hard time concentrating on more than one thing at once, but you didn't think he would zone in on you so quickly.

"Let me put it in," Changbin begs, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your slit. "It'll just be the tip, I promise."

You're just about to agree before you remember why you're here. How would you know if Changbin is the one if he doesn't use his fingers? You bite your lower lip, looking between his short fingers to his chubby cock. 

"Binnie..." you pout at him. "Those aren't the rules."

He whines, humping his hips quicker as if it could change your mind. "Pleeease! Just one time, let me put it in one time and-"

"Bin," Chan's authoritative voice comes from above you. You feel him tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, reassuring. "Gotta listen to the boss here man."

Changbin looks dejected as his lower lips jut out, but he withdraws his throbbing erection obediently. His solemn expression fills you with pity and you wrap your legs around his waist to keep him from leaving. 

"Let's make a little deal, yeah? Tell me the truth if it was you at the party, and I'll let you put the tip in. Okay?"

His eyes lit up a little too quickly, and you repeat yourself. "Just the tip, okay? Only the tip."

"He's not gonna listen," Seungmin shakes his head. "He only thinks with the head between his legs."

The jab has Changbin frowning again, but you tighten your grip around his waist for encouragement. "No, Binnie's a good boy. You'll listen to me, won't you?" Changbin nods, still looking somewhat sulky as he repeats, "Binnie's a good boy." This has you smiling, settling further into the comfortable couch. "I know. So tell me, Binnie, was it you?"

"Yes!"

"Fucking liar," Seungmin swears. "He's full of bullshit."

"Yeah, he's lying!" Hyunjin joins in. "It was me!"

Seungmin moves his cold stare to the taller man, "Why are you so persistent? It was not you." Hyunjin looks like he's about to argue again, but Jisung beats him to it, "Fuck you guys both! It's me!"

You have to tune out their arguing, looking at Changbin who behaves suspiciously. He has a ghost of a smirk on his lips, his eyes can't maintain eye contact longer than two seconds. The cherry on top is his blushing face, red with guilt.

"Binnieee," you drawl. "Are you lying to me?"

With eyebrows raised, you watch as his small smile falls. His lips pucker into something like a scowl, but he looks hopeful. Stupidly hopeful. Changbin shrugs and finally meets your eyes, "Maybe, but that doesn't matter!" 

You frown, "You lied to me- oh-" Changbin cuts you off by dipping the fat head of his cock into your entrance. It's so warm, so thick that your cunt wraps around it snugly almost immediately. He rolls his hips to thrust shallowly, feeling your walls try to suck him in deeper. 

"That's...That's cheating," you manage to say. 

Changbin smiles, pulling his head out to slap it on your clit. "It feels good though." 

He places his hand on the base of his cock to aim at your pussy, this time with no scolding from you. Before his tip has the chance to sink back into your heat, Hyunjin yanks him by the shoulder. 

"Ya! What are you-"

"You broke the rules," Hyunjin reminds him. "You don't get a turn."

"But she-"

Minho looks rather pleased as he drags the sulky Changbin away from you, mostly likely happy he got his revenge. Though you wave Changbin a pitiful goodbye, your body begins to vibrate with excitement at the arrival of Hyunjin. As beautiful as all the men are, Hyunjin seems to match the brief descriptions you have of your mystery man that night. Long fingers, long hair, and a height that seems to fit. 

Hyunjin takes his place next to you, smiling innocently to where you can see his dumpling cheeks and crescent eyes. "How are you doing, beautiful?"

The attention makes you blush, shyly hiding behind your hair as you answer, "I-I'm fine. I...I really wanna cum."

"Again?" He laughs, "You're barely halfway there, you know?" Despite Hyunjin's teasing, his hand travels down your inner thigh to your soaked folds. You gasp at the contact, looking down at his slender fingers rubbing you in circles. 

"Mmm, that feels good," you sigh.

Though you aren't looking, Hyunjin beams at the compliment. "Good huh? How about familiar? Does it feel like that too?"

To that, you aren't too sure. Hyunjin is gentle, reassuring, and caring. Even as his digits travel lower to plunge into your cunt, it's still different from the night before. The mystery man was rougher, demanding. Telling you to spread your legs rather than the gentle voice Hyunjin uses. 

"Just like that, pretty," Hyunjin whispers in your ear. "Such a good angel for me." Two of his fingers easily slide in and out of you, making you clench and writhe on the couch. His other hand palms his erection at the sight of you and the sound of your moans. 

You can feel the men staring at the two of you. Changbin and Jisung have their cock out, stroking at the same face that Hyunjin finger fucks you. Felix seems eager to shove a hand down his pants, but his concentration is glued to your exposed cunt. Minho is whispering something to Jeongin who also can't take his eyes off you, nodding mindlessly to whatever his hung tells him. Chan's heavy hand pats the top of your head, comforting and somewhat wholesome. 

"So," Seungmin crosses his arms against his chest, ignoring the raging boner in his pants. "Hurry up and say it's not him."

This makes you shake your head, content with finishing your second orgasm on Hyunjin's hand. His palm slaps against your cunt, briefly coming into contact with your clit. It's so good, so good that you might lie and say it was Hyunjin that night. 

"Don't stop," you whine, pleading with Hyunjin. 

He leans down and places a chaste kiss on your lips. His lips are plump, full, and wet with salvia. Your mouth chases his when he pulls away, earning a chuckle from him. "Wasn't planning on it."

Hyunjin slows his pace to add another finger, stretching you with three digits before he's pumping again. You squeal at the speed, hands grasping onto the cushions to ground yourself. Your entire body feels hot, overstimulated to the point of fainting. Your heels dig into the couch as your high builds throughout your body. 

To make your climax powerful, Chan reaches down and flicks your clit rapidly. A mixture of a scream and a moan tear through your chest and you bury your face in Hyunjin's neck to conceal your embarrassing sounds.

"She's gonna cum again," Felix notes, eyes wide. 

The men watch as your body begins to convulse once again, arousal dripping further onto the couch and some to the floor. 

"Whatever," Minho snorts. "I made her cum first."

"Yeah, with my help," Chan looks up to narrow his eyes accusingly. 

It's in the midst of their banter that you cum, shaking and filled with burning pleasure. Hyunjin's fingers hardly slow their pace, but Chan hears your muffled cries and slows his rubbing. Your drool begins to seep onto Hyunjin's expensive shirt, but he pays no mind to it. He's too caught up in the way your sensitive body jolts and quivers with every thrust. 

He only stops when he feels warm tears soak his shirt. His fingers slip out of your cunt, taking a few strings of arousal with it. He cradles your face in his hands, looking worried. 

"Oh, my sweet angel," he coos. "Was that too much for you?" 

You're still vibrating with pleasure, jumping when Chan tenderly grips your neck.

"G-good," you manage to choke out. "S-so good. More, more. Wanna keep cumming."

The anxious expression on Hyunjin's face fades, and you hear a few of the men chuckle at your admission. 

"You can cum many times as you want, baby," Chan confirms. "But we need to know, was it him?"

For a moment, you're confused. Was what who? Who was what? Your brain flicks with thinking before the light bulb goes off.

"It wasn't him, was it?" Jeongin hopes, eyes shining with hope and arousal.

Your mind is half-broken, barely managing to say, "Not...not him." Hyunjin groans in frustration, throwing his head back dramatically. "Fuck! I so thought she was gonna say it was me. Didn't think her brain would still work after all that!"

Hyunjin stands up, defeated. The space next to you feels cold and empty, but Chan's warm touch keeps you feeling floaty and safe. You reach up to grasp onto his form, mewling and pawing at any physical contact you can get. 

"Shhh, everything's okay baby. We're right here," Chan leans down to whisper in your ear. "You're halfway there."

a/n: holy shit this is taking me soooooooo long so I decided to break it into parts lmao I apologize. *slightly* proof-read ill be honest. tell me how you like it! taglist: @hyunjinhoexxx, @sharonxdevi, @thexemyy, @linocvp1d, @nahimgoodmom, @oddracha, @ihrtlix, @soobin-is-squishy, @kwanisms-replies, @scrumptiousbasketballranchalien, @got-me-seein-stars, @mkbum(also if you guys want to keep up with fics just tell me you wanna be tagged in the comments or something)

[fandoms--fluff]

Heloop can you do one of baby Mikaelson, that she is always with nik and Elijah but when Hayley comes to leave with them yn what to be with her

New Favorite

Baby Mikaelson sister reader x Hayley marshall (+ Klaus & Elijah)

Warnings: pregnancy?

A/n: I've been wanting to write something like this for a while and I got so happy when this request came in!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You peek out from behind your big brother, Elijah's, leg. Across the room, where she's sitting on the couch with her legs crossed, is Hayley. The lady who all of your brothers and sister have been fighting about what should happen.

Apparently something happened with Niky and her, but no one will tell you and you've been too nervous to go up to Hayley and actually say something to her.

The closest you ever gotten to her is right now, holding on for dear life to Elijah's leg. You don't like being around people you aren't familiar with. Which I weird that you're feeling like that with Hayley, Elijah has been noticing, since you technically have met her before in Mystic Falls. But you guys did just move back to New Orleans and it's a bigger change for you considering you like being in Mystic Falls, that's sometimes hard to believe truthfully for him. Then again you don't have some horrendous memories of the place like the others do.

You look at what she's wearing and your eyes land on her hands. On her fingers, there are a couple rings in various shapes and some have a colorful stone on them.

Elijah is talking with Niky. It sounds like he's mad with him. Though that's not really concerning to you considering he and Elijah get into fights all the time, so you're used to it. The same with when Niky and Bekah also get into fights.

As they continue to squabble, you carefully start letting go of your big brother's leg and start to make your way over to Hayley. You move slowly, not wanting to accidently trip like you do sometimes when you're nervous or excited.

Hayley looks down and sees you standing a couple feet away the end of the couch supporting your small basically toddler frame. She smiles softly, she took a liking to you during her time in Mystic Falls. Even though she despised, and still kinda does, Klaus, she likes how he acts all soft and protective of you.

She's noticed you're basically always with either Elijah or Klaus. Whether that be them carrying you, holding your hand, you attached to their legs or just being in the same room.

"Hi there" She speaks to you first, her tone soft.

You look up at her with big eyes and take a small step towards her, still holding onto the couch cushions on the way. You lift your other tiny hand up to give her a small wave.

It takes you a moment to climb up on the couch and sit down on your knees, facing her.

She has to admit, You're pretty cute.

You look up at her face and then down at her hands, repeating that a couple more times. Your sight finally lands on her hands. The rings shine under the light.

She realizes it's her rings you're looking at, so she moves her hand and places it in front of you, right above your knees. "You like my rings?" She asks you quietly.

You wrap your tiny hands around her hand and start tracing the ring with a butterfly on it. It takes you a moment to reply, but quietly you finally say something, "Pretty." You mumbled before looking back up at her, your hands still clutched to hers.

"It is, isn't it?" She smiles.

Rebekah walks into the house from being out all day. She rolls her eyes at the two arguing. Instead, she made her way to the both of you.

"Well, I think it's time for a certain someone to get ready for bed," She tells you after reading the clock that's sitting on the mantel.

You frown before complying and climb off the couch. You reach up and grab your big sister's outstretched hand. As you guys start walking toward the stairs, you look back and wave a 'bye' to Hayley.

Over the next few months, you start spending more time with Hayley. You got attached to her quickly. She revealed to you about being pregnant with Klaus' child, earning an excited reaction from you, and getting a smile out of herself as well.

It seems as if you're spending more time with Hayley than your brothers. As Rebekah has teased your guys' brothers about.

Klaus sits with you on your bed, trying to get you to sleep. Which isn't working in his favor. When you want to be, you can be more stubborn than Rebekah, and that's saying something.

"It's past your bedtime" He whispers. He's not exactly trying that hard anyway, but you usually listen to him.

"Bad sleep" You frown up at him. "No, not bad sleep, you need sleep, or else you'll be grumpy in the morning," He says, leaving out the point on how Elijah will have his head if he lets you stay up way too late again.

"So let's lay back down, curl up, and go to sleep," He tells you softly, handing you your stuffed yellow teddy bear.

You slowly follow his wording and snuggle your teddy bear as he tucks you in. Your brother places a kiss on your head before turning the lamp off and slowly leaves the room.

After laying in your bed for ten minutes, unable to fall asleep, you sit back up and shuffle out of your bed.

You quietly walk out into the hallway until you find yourself in what used to be Kol's room and now is Hayley's. You patter in and Hayley looks up from her book to see you standing a couple feet away with your teddy bear clutched in your hand.

"Hey sweetie, aren't you supposed to be in bed" She asked you, already knowing the answer. "uh-uh" You shake your head and walk over to the bed and climb up with Hayley helping you.

"Whatever you say, hun" She chuckles.

You crawl closer to her. She lifts her right arm up, having you cuddle into her side. You move down a bit to rest your head on her pregnancy bump. You giggle from the feeling of magic coming from the baby. You're the only one who seems to be able to feel any of it.

You hug your teddy with one arm while your other hand is tracing shapes on Hayley's bump, tiredly. Not even ten minutes later, you're out like a light.

Klaus searches around the house, trying to find you. He hasn't seen you all morning. While he searches, Elijah stands up from where he's sat. "What's wrong?"

"I can't seem to find our baby sister anywhere" Klaus answers before leaving the room, obvious that you're not in here. Elijah follows after him.

"Have you checked Hayley's room?" Elijah asks him. That makes him pause before going up the stairs to where the bedrooms are.

He opens the door to the pregnant werewolf's room and walks in. What he sees makes him breathe a sigh of relief. Showing in front of them, Hayley and you are sound asleep, you cuddled into her arms with your bear still in your grasp.

"What are you two doing? There are more than enough reasons as to why not to wake up one of them, let alone both of them" Rebekah whisper at them, pulling the two men out of the bedroom and closing the door.

"But I think, you guys have been replaced with a new favorite" Rebekah smirks, nodding to Hayley's door before walking away.