#did this as a brush test more than anything but I kind of like how it turned out

[snarkspawn]

darling~

[parfaitblogs]

risk ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you have the sweetest regular, and it’s probably too soon to tell him you love him!

pairing: spencer reid x barista!reader genre: fluff tags: s1 spencer. who rambles. biblically accurate career!reader sorry if some of the coffee talk makes no sense to you. reader makes all the first moves. y'all kiss (aww). written in timeskip sorta it's not crazy (like maybe a month). not proofread sorryyy (im not). word count: 2.2k a/n: first instalment of my spencer reid eras tour🙂‍↕️ season 1 spencer reid i freaking adore you. he's so cute. gif!! i thought gifs in this series could be cute lol. envisioned 1x10 spencer bc of his nightmares if that means anything. enjoyyy ily im off to work 🏃 

series masterlist

There are many reasons you come to work each morning. The money (an obvious one), your coworkers who usually make each day a little bit more bearable. And Spencer. A regular who had become a little notorious for having an odd coffee order, that most of the store workers hated making. 

Except for you. 

It wasn't especially odd. But in a store that thrived on making the perfect cup of coffee, sometimes it meant remaking it three or four times because the shots didn't pour at the right amount of time, and recalibrating the machine was a hassle you all didn't want to deal with in the middle of the morning rush he usually came during. 

You had taken note of him the first few times he came in — always keeping to himself, flashing the most awkward smile you think you've ever seen on a human being, and ordering his old order (a large latte with as much sugar as you could fit in the cup). It was by the seventh time that had you thinking of him a little more often than just while you were at work. 

He looked a lot more exhausted than usual. His usually tame hair now loose and hanging over his face as he took a weary step towards the counter, fingers brushing strands away and tucking them behind his ears. 

"The latte, right?" you had asked him, and he had frozen, and you stood in fear of this not being the Spencer you thought he was, and you had just asked a total stranger about a coffee they've never ordered. 

But then he let out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. "Uh, no. Not today. Um—do you guys have a limit on how much coffee I can have?"

Your eyebrows furrowed. "No... we don't. I wouldn't recommend any more than like five shots in our largest size, though. It'd probably taste gross. But we can add as much as you need."

"Five's good. Yeah," he nodded his head, fingers wrapped tightly around the leather strap of his messenger bag. 

"Just... a five shot latte?" you clarified, and he froze again, shaking his head once more. 

"Do you recommend anything else? I—uh, I want it to be sweet enough still."

"I can do you a mocha?" you offered. "White chocolate mocha if you're looking for it to be even sweeter."

"I'll try that," he nodded his head, and out came his awkward smile, which had you smiling back just as awkwardly. 

Which was how he got to his current usual. It honestly became a test to ensure your coffee machines were actually running well, considering pulling five well-done espresso shots at once was no easy feat. And, again, most of your coworkers hated making his drink. 

Which was why it was palmed off to you. Every single morning without fail. And maybe in another universe you would join them in the hatred for this man's frustrating drink order. But then, in that universe, you wouldn't get to talk to him every morning (and slowly break him out of whatever shell he had locked himself up in). 

"I never asked," you began, staring at him over the top of the coffee machine while putting white chocolate fudge into the bottom of the cup. "Why did you change your order randomly?"

He parted his lips and his eyebrows creased together for a few seconds, as if he was deciding whether or not to tell you. You were kind of grateful he concluded on trusting you. 

"I wasn't really sleeping. When I asked about changing my order," he explained, hands letting go of the bag strap so he could talk with them. "Then I guess I just liked the taste of it? And it kept me awake. Which is a bonus."

"I can imagine it would," you nodded your head in agreement, flashing him a small smile, which he returned, bashfully. "Why weren't you sleeping?"

He went silent, and you almost cursed yourself for asking. Maybe you had gone too far. It was why, when you had begun to busy yourself with making his drink a little faster, you jumped when he spoke up again.

"I was getting these nightmares," he said, and your head lifted from the milk you were steaming. "Because of what I do for work."

"Law, right?" you asked, and he let out a small laugh, tucking hair behind his ear. 

"Sort of. I'm with the FBI."

"Oh, that's right," you replied, nodding your head in recognition. He had said that to you at some point in the earlier days when he first started coming in, because you had asked where he works so close by to be coming in as often as he did. "Can you tell me what part? Or is that confidential?"

"No, no, I can. I'm with the Behavioural Analysis Unit," when your face twisted into confusion, he added, "We use psychology to analyse serial killers and catch them. Well, not just serial killers, actually. But that's what we focus on."

"And it works?" you asked, eyebrows rising as you placed a lid atop his coffee, sliding it out on the pick-up section where he was standing by. His face fell slightly, and so you were quick to add, "Not—I didn't mean it like that. I just mean I'm shocked. That psychology is all you really need to catch a serial killer."

"It's not all we need. There's a lot of other elements that go into finding one. But our primary focus is how their brain works and we use behavioural science to figure that out. Actually, we used to be called the Behavioural Science Unit when it was first created."

He was too busy talking animatedly with his hands for him to have picked up his coffee, and you were too busy watching him with a smile to remind him it was ready. 

When he did reach for it, you could feel the familiar pang of disappointment that had started shooting through you every time he was picking up his coffee and leaving. A weird sensation that left you clawing at the walls of your brain to come up with something to say to keep him there. 

It was probably why you blurted out, "Are you seeing anyone?" Which was followed by stunned silence from him, and regretful silence from yourself. What a question. 

Slowly, he began to shake his head, his lips twitching into a confused frown. "No. I'm—I'm not." 

It shocked you a little. He wasn't jaw dropping, per se. But he was attractive. You had said it a few times to your coworkers whenever they asked why you talked to him so much — there was a running joke that you were already secretly dating him behind their backs. Not funny.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to..." you hesitated. "Go out for dinner? Maybe? I'm so sorry if I'm totally overstepping. In fact, I encourage you to say no, because this is a little weird. I'm so sorry," you rambled when you were met with only silence from him, wondering if you had weirded him out of the ability to talk. 

"With me?" he pushed out, his voice a little higher pitched than usual, and you nodded your head, because maybe he wasn't weirded out. Maybe you had just flustered him. You hoped so, at least.

"Yeah," you said. "Is that weird? Or is it okay? To ask that?"

"It's okay. Yeah. Yes. I would love—like to. I mean, that would be nice. Yeah," he stammered, and you smiled. 

"Here," you held your hand out and gestured for his coffee, taking it back and picking up a Sharpie to write your number atop the lid, before you slid it back to him. "I get off work at one. Call me?"

"I will," he nodded, eyes fixated on the number for a few seconds more, before he returned his eyes to you. "I will. Um—bye!" he took a step back, and you let out a loud laugh when he stumbled into a chair behind him. 

He was sheepish as he waved to you, bidding you another goodbye, the sound of the bell above the door ringing once, and then again when it fell shut. 

And you had, somehow, secured a date with Spencer.

Which turned into two dates. Then three. And then, with some weird stroke of luck and twist of fate, you were spending every evening you could at his apartment, and him at yours. 

But you were yet to kiss. 

Not by any particular reason. Really, nothing either of you did ever really called for a kiss. Which was as frustrating as it was understandable. Frustrating, because you felt like you were simply friends, who sometimes went out for dinner, and had feelings for each other. But he had told you very early on he'd never been with anyone before, let alone ever been on a date. Hence; understandable. 

But frustration was more overwhelming than you had thought, because you were on his couch, blanket draped over both of your bodies, as he read you a book — The Chameleon. A short story by Anton Chekhov (an author whom you were only barely familiar with). And yet, all you could think about was kissing him. 

In your defence, he was very kissable, as you stared at his lips while he spoke, your heart stuttering quite uncomfortably in your chest. You weren't sure what it was precisely about him that made him like that. Maybe it was the natural pout of his lips, or how they twitched in humour at the little jokes Chekhov had written into the book that only made sense in Russian, despite him attempting to translate it for you. 

Whatever it was, it was overriding your senses, and in true Spencer fashion, he hadn't noticed you weren't intently listening to his reading until he glanced down to catch a reaction to something he said. You caught as he closed the book and placed it off to the side, jostling you from your haze. 

"You don't like the book, do you?" he asked, and you were quick to shake your head. 

"No, I do," which was true. The parts you were actively listening to you enjoyed. "Sorry, I'm distracted."

"By what?" he shifted on the couch to face you.

You fell silent at that, the answer hanging on the tip of your tongue, unsure whether or not saying it could ruin things. You didn't think it would. "You."

"I'm distracting?" he asked, eyebrows creasing together and a confused frown pulling his lips down. 

Which confused you. "Yes?"

"I don't think I'm meant to be sorry for that," he said. "But I am."

"You shouldn't be," you breathed out with a small laugh. 

"Right," he nodded his head, laughing too, awkwardly. "How am I distracting?"

You studied his face for a few moments, which ended up being a pathetic excuse for a lip study, because you were fixated on them again, and you decided Spencer probably didn't even realise that that was what you were doing. 

"We haven't kissed yet," you told him, instead. 

"No. We haven't," he agreed. 

"Do you just not want to kiss me?" you asked.

He did that thing he does when he's thinking — furrowed eyebrows and parted lips, eyes blinking a few times, before he comes up with his response. 

"I just don't want you to be disappointed. I've never kissed anyone before."

"I concluded that," you answered. "I won't be disappointed."

"You might be," he mumbled, and his gaze averted from your own, which had another smile stretching across your lips. 

"Only one way to find out, right?"

He hesitated before nodding his head, lifting his eyes back up to look at you. It was then that you learned that, like everything else, you might have to make the first move on him. Again.

The thought made you laugh, and though he wanted to, he didn't get a chance to question why you were laughing, because your hands were on his face and you were pulling him into you, lips meeting his in a gentle kiss that elicited a surprised squeak from him. 

"You've gotta kiss me back," you murmured against his lips, and his response was a quiet 'oh'. 

But he was a fast learner, because soon after he was. Objectively, it wasn't the best kiss you've ever had in your life. But it got better by the second, and he was doing enough to make your heart stutter in your chest, his hands reaching up to cup your own face, palms and fingers covering the mass of your cheeks. 

His hands there provided him the ability to keep you there, and you had to pry them off your face so you were able to pull back for air, breaths coming out in short pants. Only for a short second, because he was chasing your lips again, and you laughed, before letting him kiss you again. And again. And again. 

Until both of you were out of air, and he was glassy-eyed and pink-lipped. Though, you were probably his mirror image of that.

And he smiled at you, crookedly. And you wondered if it was too soon to say you loved him. 

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡

[atlabeth]

take my breath away

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you help spencer train for his fitness exam. he kind of just wants to kiss you.

a/n: some fluff (and something short) after i broke my own heart (and my brain) in my last hotch fic! i’m truly in my criminal minds era. enjoy

wc: 1.3k

warning(s): reader is a runner so im sorry to my unathletic friends. but this is all fluff

“Spence,” you said, unable to bite back your smile, “how are you this bad at running?” 

“I’m—” he held up a finger as he caught his breath and shook his head. “I’m not bad at running. My form… is perfect.” 

“We barely made it a mile in,” you said, and you chuckled as he keeled over, his hands on his knees. “It can’t be that perfect.” 

“It is,” he insisted, on the edge of wheezing. “I’m just unathletic.” 

“You never did sports as a kid?” 

“I graduated high school at twelve,” Spencer breathed. “I was too busy studying. Reading. Doing anything other than sports.” He looked at you and shook his head. “And I’m not crazy like you.” 

Your smile only grew. “You should put your hands over your head. It helps get more air in.” 

“That’s actually a rumor.” He shook his head again. “When you raise your arms, muscles that contribute… to the bucket handle movement of your ribs—” He heaved a sigh, his brows furrowing, and again, you held back a smile. You were sure this was one of his only weaknesses. “—they’re not able to function properly.” 

“Alright, genius,” you said, mockingly but with love. “Recover however you like. You clearly need it.” 

Spencer pouted as he straightened up, his whole face contorted in discomfort. When your boyfriend asked you to help him train for his upcoming fitness test, you didn’t think much of it—you got a full ride through college because of track, and you keep healthy with morning runs, so you were happy to help. 

You’d thought about straight up offering a myriad of times—mostly after bearing witness to his attempts at running in the field. One time, the two of you were paired up to do some interviews, and it ended in a chase. By the time Spencer caught up, nearly dying on the sidewalk, you already had the unsub subdued and cuffed. 

(It took him a while to live that down with Morgan.)

Spencer was gifted at other things, sure—not just everyone is a classified genius with an eidetic memory, and he’s the youngest recruit in history—and you loved him more than anything. But you couldn’t not make fun of him, just a little bit. 

His face was still red, his glasses fogging up a bit from the humidity, and his hair was a mess, so you moved closer in order to brush the stray strands out of his face. 

“Running isn’t my thing,” he said. “Well— fitness isn’t my thing. I’ve got everything else covered.” 

“Oh yeah?” You started smoothing back the strands of his hair, and you offered a crooked smile. “Then why are we out here trying to improve your mile time?” 

“Because it would be nice if Gideon doesn’t have to get all my fitness stuff waived again, and if I want that, I need the help.” His eyes didn’t leave yours, and once you finished, your hands lingered on his cheeks. You nudged his glasses back up to their spot. “And I think I’d run a marathon and die trying if it meant I got to spend more time with you.” 

Your eyebrows rose. “If you want to run a marathon, I could probably get you there. It would take a lot of time together, though.” 

“Please, no,” Spencer breathed. “Just the time together part.” 

You grinned, and you patted him on the cheek before you pulled away. “Running is good for the soul. Why do you think I’m so happy all the time?” 

“Well, this morning you said you were happy because of me,” he said. “Yesterday, it was because we had our first case-free weekend in two months. The other day—” 

“That coffee I had?” you interrupted. 

He nodded. “How’d you know?” 

“Because you made it for me,” you said, “and I love it when you do that.” 

Spencer shrugged. “You do it all the time for me. It’s only fair.” 

“But that’s proof,” you said. “Running does make you happy.” 

“Running does release endorphins, but anyone who likes it is crazy,” he repeated. 

“That doesn’t sound scientifically backed.” 

“The way I feel right now beats science,” Spencer huffed. “And you’re not happy all the time. You frowned 23 times while writing up your last report.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “You were watching me? And counting?” 

He shrugged. “You’re nice to watch.” 

“Very smooth, Dr. Reid,” you said cloyingly. “But flattery won’t get you out of this.” 

“I’m not trying to get out of anything!” he defended. You stared at him, and he held up his hands. “Okay— only halfway. But you are nice to watch. That’s why I’m still here.”

“If you’re watching me while we run, that might be why you’re doing so badly,” you said, amused. 

“No—I think it’s the only thing keeping me going.”

“You don’t really look like you’re still going,” you said wryly. “You should be good at this. You’ve got long legs.” 

Spencer shook his head as he screwed his eyes shut. He let out one last breathy sigh, and you hoped he’d finally recovered. “Also largely a rumor. It’s more about leg strength compared to bodyweight—long legs help with lengthy strides, but you need to generate enough torque to move faster than with shorter legs.” 

You smiled. “You’ve still got facts? Even while you’re dying?” 

“Mostly because Elle’s said it before too. She says I look like a baby giraffe learning how to walk when I run.” Spencer shook his head again. “I think the only thing my height is good for is getting things off of shelves.” 

For once, you tried to reign in your joking. “Is there anything I can do to help? I don’t want this whole thing to be miserable for you. Running should be fun.” 

“We can stop doing this?” he suggested. “I can let go of what’s left of my pride, get all my fitness stuff waived again, and go back to figuring out cases in an air conditioned conference room?” 

You smiled, and you moved closer. “How about this?” 

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but you pulled him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt, effectively cutting him off. He hesitated for less than a split second, but his hands fell to your waist as he brought you in closer. 

When you let go and moved away, he still had them there, and he was smiling like an idiot. 

“Does that help?” you asked innocently, tilting your head. 

“Yeah,” Spencer said, nodding rapidly. “Uh— yeah. I actually think I could go for another mile now.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you ruffled his hair, messing up your earlier work. “I’d love to test that, pretty boy, but I don’t think you can make it another mile.” 

Spencer shook his head. “If you keep kissing me like that, I think I can make it through that marathon you mentioned.”  

“Sure I don’t take your breath away too badly?” you teased. 

“I have some facts for that, but I don’t think they apply.” His lips curved up, and the redness from exertion mixed with his steadily rising blush. “Because you, uh— you did take my breath away the first time I saw you.” 

“I should start calling you loverboy with material like that,” you mused. “Morgan’s annoyed that I took pretty boy from him.” 

Spencer grimaced. “Just thinking of Morgan seeing me like this makes me want to get back at it. I can’t deal with any more of his teasing.” 

“But my teasing’s okay?” 

He frowned. “Of course. It— it’s kind of why I fell for you.” 

“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s why you’re still at this. You don’t like things being handed to you.” 

His cheeks darkened again, and you laughed as you leaned in to peck him on the lips one more time. 

“Alright, loverboy,” you said. “Ready to get back at it?” 

“No,” he said affirmatively. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?” 

“Not if you want to pass,” you said wryly, and you gestured back at the trail with your head. “But you know what they say—one step at a time.” 

Spencer grumbled, and he shook his arms out again. “Fine. As long as those steps are with you.” 

You smiled. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” 

[moonstruckme]

hmmm how about james potter and shy reader’s first kiss? 💘

Idk how this sat so long in my inbox, thank you for requesting (and for your patience) angel!

James Potter x shy!reader ♡ 998 words

You know James has been holding back on your account. He’s still a thousand times braver than you are, always with a hand cast over your shoulders or resting on your back or clasped around yours and compliments dropping from his lips like they’re nothing. You find it easier to reciprocate when he makes the first move like that. To lean into his side, tighten your fingers around his, smile and tell him he looks lovely, too. 

Tonight he seems to be taking things further, and you suspect you know why. He’s seemed reluctant to let you out of arm’s reach all night. Instead of just holding your hand, he’d played with your fingers while you’d sat in the cinema. He’d pushed your hair out of your face when you turned to talk to him, and a couple of times he’d wiped chocolate from the corner of your mouth that you suspect wasn’t really there. Now, as you’re walking home, he’s rubbing a slow, absentminded back-and-forth across the back of your hand with his thumb. It feels like he’s testing the waters. 

You’ve been dating for a while now. You’d wondered when it would come. 

James walks you up your front steps, every smile he beams your way worsening the bone-thuddering beat of your heart. It’s not necessarily James that scares you. He’s perfect and lovely and kind, and you want him close so badly it’s humiliating. 

He squeezes your hand in his, and your nerves misfire, the toe of your shoe catching on the top step. You gasp as you pitch forward, but James is quick. He grabs you around the middle and you save yourself with your other foot. 

“Whoa,” he laughs. “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Sorry, I don’t know how that happened.” 

“They are your own front steps,” James points out. There’s a knowing in his eyes, in the soft curl of his bottom lip, that makes your cheeks warm and your stomach flutter. “I hate to think of what unfamiliar steps do to you if you’re falling right outside your own home.” 

“I know.” You look down, pretending you need to check your shoelaces or brush off your pants or some other ruse he won’t believe, and try not to be so acutely aware of how he hasn’t let you go. “It’s humiliating. The neighbors will talk.” 

“Let me know if they do. I’ll set them straight.” 

You grin up at him. James’ expression is as warm as his voice. His eyes go molten as they meet yours, a look now familiar and yet newly thrilling every time. It makes your spine feel rubbery. 

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he says, voice gone a bit softer than usual. “I had a really great time.” 

“I did, too,” you reply earnestly. “Thanks for inviting me.” 

“You’re always invited, sweetheart.” His touch slips from around your middle, taking your hand again. “See you Friday, then?” 

When you’d told James how busy you’d be this week, he’d penciled himself into your schedule for Friday, when the pandemonium will have ceased. He wants to cook you dinner. You think you’ll likely deliquesce into a heart-shaped puddle when he does. 

“See you then.” You smile, and he smiles back, and then intention solidifies in his gaze.

You hold your breath. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. 

“Please.” The word leaves you on a sigh, and then James is stepping closer to you, your fingers tightening on his. 

The first soft press of his mouth is gentle and chaste. Warm, like the rest of him, like sunlight given form. His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, and you lean into the touch on instinct, slotting your nose alongside his to get him closer. It starts so slow and lovely you’re not sure you can handle anything more, but then James parts his lips and you mirror him reflexively and his sunlight is pouring into you. 

You let go of his hand to wrap both your arms around his neck. James smiles against your lips as you press closer to him, his hand gentle on your face as he slows you both down again with sweet, soft kisses to your bottom lip. 

“Easy,” he says, his own voice slightly hoarse now. It sends shivers down your spine, light as a feather’s touch. “Let’s give the neighbors one headline at a time, yeah? Don’t want to overwhelm the presses.” 

You’re lost for words. You let your forehead rest against his, eyes still closed, savoring the warmth emanating from your lips. 

“Angel, you with me?” James tilts his head up so his nose bumps into yours. You feel your lips curve of their own volition. “Was that okay?” 

You hum. “You’re right,” you say, impressed with how normal you manage to sound. “I think we should go inside so they’re left to wonder.” 

That earns you a hearty laugh, James grasping your shoulders when you’re forced away from him by the raucousness of it. 

“You said you were tired just a few minutes ago,” he reminds you. 

“I feel awake now.” 

He laughs again, delighted, and your face warms at your own brazenness. James lets his touch slip down your arms to your hands again, taking them in his and squeezing reassuringly. 

“As much as I’d like to,” he says, “you’ve got a big week. I should let you get to bed. Plus—” he gives you a roguish grin “—keeping you wanting more is how I get you to let me in here on Friday.”

You grin down at your shoes. “That’s very conniving of you.” 

“Oh, yeah, I’m nefarious that way. But one more.” 

James tilts your face up with a hand, pressing one quick, sweet kiss to your lips before pulling out of your reach. You know you look as surprised as you feel, because his eyes dance with amusement as he backs down the stairs, his smile poorly repressed. 

“See you Friday, sweetheart.” 

[adelheidvonschicksal]

⋆｡°✩ DARLING, DON'T BE AFRAID

Summary: Despite living with Xavier for the past few weeks, you still haven't taken the plunge to see if all this time together make you anything more than roommates especially when he disappears again in the middle of the night. Determined, you decide to question him on where his feelings lie. You just never thought a simple kiss on the cheek was the only push needed.

Pairing: Xavier x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: Roommates AU, Vanilla Smut (A lot of it. Like 7k words of smut), Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Emotional Sex

Word Count: 12,000~

Note: Sequel to Do Roommates Sleep Together. This part can be read as a standalone. So not necessary to read part one but it adds more context.

AO3 Link

You make a final decisive pull of the trigger. A loud pang resonates in the air and smoke spirals off the barrel. The Wanderer disappears in a wisp of debris and dust that is quickly caught in the wind.

Xavier stands a few feet in front of you. His sword twirls with one final arc of light illuminating behind the sharpened tip before it dematerializes in his hand.  You’re oblivious to the way his eyes search and find you on instinct as you run eager fingertips on the warm barrel of your pistol. 

“Mission completed. We should report back.”

You raise your head to meet his gaze while your gloved fingers remain faithfully on your weapon. The adrenaline from a successful mission is still surging through you.

“I want to test out my guns some more.”

His eyes soften at your response, but the weight of his gaze is still heavy as he walks towards you and places his hand on your head. 

“There will be more Wanderers tomorrow,” he murmurs. His thumb gently brushes your forehead before his hand swoops back over your hair. Though your hands were still itching for another battle, your mind was weak to the calmness of his tone, like the slow tumble of waves on the shore, as he coaxes your head back to look at him more directly. “Let’s go home.”

This time you do not protest. Even if you did, what could you possibly say? 

Your aggression relaxes along with your shoulders, allowing you to give in to his request with a quick holstering of your twin guns. 

You return to headquarters and give your mission report to Jenna – pausing only to poke fun when she mentions how much Xavier’s reporting time has improved since the two of you became partners – then you start on the way home with the sun kissing at your back.

Laughter fills the air on the streets. Immediately, you feel warm inside. It was only thanks to the work you do every day that citizens could enjoy this peaceful dusk without fear of monsters scrambling to destroy the city like so many years ago. 

It’s rewarding to know you hold some small part in the safety of the city after almost dying in the catastrophe as a child. You breathed it in fully, letting joy fill your lungs as you savor the calm moment. The emotion is only highlighted by the fact that when you look to your side, you can see Xavier there, putting weight to the empty space left in the wake of your family’s death. 

Walking home together in the past was a random occurrence, happening whenever your busy schedules after missions aligned. As freshly cemented roommates, it was almost a given you’d walk home together now. Not just to the apartment complex, but to an actual shared home. 

This path you go along every day has become special in that time. It’s full of promises, the kind you could only wish for on snowy New Year's evenings as you tied red ribbons to the shrine gate and prayed for good things to happen in your life. Not a lot of those wishes came true but Xavier did. 

In that way, you were a fortunate person. 

It was only your guess if he felt the same. You want to ask him. Unlike when you’re fighting Wanderers, you’re not brave when it comes to Xavier - a part of you prefers to leave things between you unsaid. It’s safer that way as you can keep living in a beautiful world of your own illusions. 

Therefore, you’re unable to help yourself. Pinching the sleeve of his uniform, you tug on it gently to gain his attention; Xavier looks at you with glossy glazed eyes. He’s always so sluggish after missions. His steps slow and methodical, like a robot, as he barely manages to straighten his spine and raise his head.

“Chin up, Xavier. We’re almost there.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says. 

You don’t need to hear him say it to understand. You think you’ve become good at reading his body language by now. Donning a sympathetic smile, you shift your hand, aiming for a lower target, and entwine your fingers with his under the guise of leading him faster.

“My next solution is carrying you by the way.”

A smile cracks on his face, impossibly light as his gaze drifts to the hold you have on his hand. “I don’t think you could carry me.”

“You dare doubt me?” Truth be told, he was right. He was tall and muscular and much thicker under that uniform than he looked. He would probably crush you under his weight if you tried to lift him. Despite how improper it was to think, you wouldn’t mind if he wanted to place his weight on top of you in another way. You tick up the corner of your lips into a surprisingly innocent smile opposite of the images in your imagination as you flash your bicep to him. “I’m very strong.”

“I think it would make more sense if I carried you.”

“I can walk.”

“I don’t see why that matters,” he says with a yawn, and you smile.

“Are you sure you won’t drop me?”

“If it’s a choice between falling asleep and dropping you then I’ll definitely stay awake. Otherwise, you might end up carrying me after all,” he says. Xavier always manages to be unfailingly charming. Given the mystery of his past and the way he carries himself, you often question exactly what kind of upbringing he had. You almost ask but your interrogation doesn’t have the chance to plant seeds when he stops in front of you and kneels. 

You thought he was joking when he said he’d carry you home but that doesn’t stop you from wrapping your arms over his broad shoulders and letting him scoop your legs up around his solid waistline. 

His clasp on the back of your thighs makes you shiver. You feel like a touch-starved virgin that the simple strength of his hands over the thickness of your pants incited such a reaction out of you, so you bury your burning face against the back of his neck. 

“Are you alright?” he asks.

Xavier must feel your hair against his neck, and you use the fact he can’t see your face to your advantage as you nod against his nape.

“Just hungry.”

For his part, Xavier doesn’t question your sudden hunger. Instead, he asks what you’re in the mood for and starts to list the restaurants that you pass on the way to the apartment complex.

You lay your cheek against him, watching the many buildings pass you by until you point out one you don’t recognize, flashing with many signs about a grand opening.

“How about that one?” you ask.

Xavier chuckles, continuing on in his steps past the building in question. “It’s not that great.”

“How do you know?”

“I tried them out.”

You squeeze into his shoulders, pushing off of them in a childlike manner and an even more dramatic gasp. “Without me?”

“I was going to bring you something back, but they weren’t very tasty. I like your cooking a lot more.”

You know he can’t see you, but you puff out your cheeks anyway. You wrap your arms tightly around him again, willing your heart not to skip when his back tenses as your chest compresses against him.  

“Are you asking me to cook dinner for you? I’m quite exhausted after all that running around,” you tell him sarcastically. 

He accidentally makes you regret your teasing when he agrees with a compassionate offer, “I’ll cook for you today.”

Hearing the word cook from his mouth makes your stomach sour. If there’s one thing after all these months you learned, it’s that Xavier is a…creative cook to put it gently. Or rather, he has zero cooking ability if it involves electricity. You didn’t mind. The two of you make it work with you doing most of the cooking and him cleaning up after, at your own behest, because if he had his way, he’d be in the kitchen much more often. 

“On second thought, I’ll cook.”

“You still don’t trust me,” he says with a sigh. Guilt tingles through you. However, your continued survival outweighs the guilt that the memory of his puppy eyes can draw out of you. “I’ll handle the cold stuff, and I’ll leave the meat to you.”

“Deal,” you say, nuzzling your head against his neck. 

When you get home, the night pans out like it always does. The two of you take turns in the shower with dinner being cooked shortly after, and the human garbage disposal known as your roommate leaves very little work for you to do once all is said and done. 

You decide to start on the last of chores for today while Xavier washes the dishes. It’s routine to check the plants before going to bed as the many potted flowers were like your own children after you spent so many hours tending to them, finding the perfect ratio of nutrients and water to keep them thriving. 

It is also routine to hunt down the birds so lovingly named Fatso and Alarm Clock by the sleepy man of the house to give them some of the seeds and nuts you regularly brought home from the store. You told Xavier that happy birds would stop eating his strawberries when in reality you liked to spoil them. 

So, you spread out the seeds on the ground for them, leaving them there for later. 

“If you feed them, they’ll never leave.”

You can’t help the laugh that leaves you. As much as he complains about the birds, you think, if his constant curiosity about the birds’ day-to-day lives was anything to go by, that he’d miss the two fluffy creatures if they were to ever find new nesting grounds. You turn back to the balcony door with a cheeky grin. “I have experience with things that don’t leave after you feed them. You enjoyed dinner a little too much.”

It’s hard to see in the fading light but Xavier blushes and brings a shy grip to the back of his neck. “Last I checked you moved in with me.”

That silences you. There’s no denying his observation, and you fail to notice him getting closer until he reaches his hand out to help you up. You willingly reach out, hand sinking into his touch as he lifts you to your feet. 

The coolness of your palms touching slowly births a lingering warmth. The soft squeeze around your hand makes it hard to let him go but eventually you must. Otherwise, you might say things that are better kept to yourself as you walk back into the house and close the sliding door behind you. 

With a pounding heart, you retire to your room early.

This room is a little different from the master room at your old apartment. The wall color is a little different brighter and it’s smaller. Luckily, you made the space work pretty easily by migrating half your plushie collection into Xavier’s room, checking like a dutiful mother to make sure he was treating them right and placing them with love should they roll off his dresser.  Sighing, you change into slightly more comfortable clothes, choosing a random pair of soft shorts and a tank top to wear before climbing into bed. It’s ten when you finally let your eyes slip shut, and it's around eleven you feel someone touching you.

Your eyelids are surprisingly heavy; you can barely pry them open enough to see the wisp of grey-brown hair shadowing medium-blue eyes. You don’t protest as you feel his fingertips brush along your waist or when his knee digs into the mattress, sinking you towards his weight.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he wants. You raise your arm enough to let your fingertips greet the curve of his chin in silent acceptance. Slowly, you drop your hand and squeeze his bicep. Like a good little soldier, he follows the order to fall into the bed with you. 

The most comfortable position is to slot your arm on top of his as he hugs your waist, props his leg on top of yours, and spoons your back. There’s absolutely zero space between your lower halves; and if he notices how you, with a small amount of shame, subtly shift and push yourself back on him a little more, he doesn’t say as he lolls his head against the curve of your neck while his incredibly light exhaling on your skin comforts you after a long day. 

With a flutter of your eyelids, you slowly slip back into sleep with the happiness that comes with being roommates with your crush. 

It’s times like these that make you think maybe he loves you. It’s also times like these that make you forget that despite all of the endearing things about him and despite how much you care about him, you don’t truly know a lot about him.

Xavier has always been a man with a lot of secrets. You’ve known this since you first met him asleep in the forest. It’s true that you once accepted the fact you’d never learn all his secrets but that was before whatever this abnormal relationship that the two of you found yourself in. 

Even after living together for more than two months now, you still had no idea where he would go when he would sneak off in the middle of the night. You didn’t question where he goes anymore, you found that he wouldn’t give you a straight answer to save his life. You merely stayed up until you heard the sound of the door opening or the warped echo of air being sucked into a vacuum, indicating he teleported inside. 

So, when you wake up at two in the morning, finding yourself alone and the side of the bed where he laid mere hours ago already cold, you’re not surprised.

Getting out of bed, you slip on your slippers and drag your feet to the balcony. It’s a familiar situation when you collapse into the swing chair, with nothing but the cold and the chirping of the birds to keep you company until he undoubtedly returns with his body hosting a family of fresh wounds.

It’s incredibly frustrating because you love him and seeing him hurt, without you having been there to prevent it, drives you crazy. You wonder why he won’t tell you, and your heart sinks, as quickly as a stone cast in a lake, with the idea that maybe you were the only one thinking that your relationship meant more than it did. Because even after all this time, you still aren’t close to him in the way you want. 

Clenching your fists, you shove your eyes against them. It was all so infuriating when he ran off to fight Wanderers or whoever and left you all alone to overthink and worry about him like some helpless house plant. It was enough to make you want to cry as the strange foreboding sense of losing him begins to echo inside of you, making you nauseous.                                                                                 There’s only one way to get rid of this feeling. Taking in a deep breath, you settle to give him a piece of your mind about sneaking off so much and also to bite the bullet to confess your feelings. 

It was only a matter of waiting for him to actually return home and to get your heightened nerves to stop firing in every direction in the meantime. 

By the time you heard the door to the apartment creaking open, you’d nearly fallen asleep in the wicker swing chair. You swallow down the bitter taste of fear, ignoring the tumultuous waves it makes when it hits your stomach. You’d never get anywhere if you didn’t face him. 

Carefully, you hop up from your seat and make slow strides into the apartment. It’s still dark in the house; you hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights earlier. Yet Xavier carries a lightness around him, mostly imagined by yourself, that makes him easy to spot in the darkness. 

For a moment, things seem normal as he takes a few stiff steps forward. Suddenly, he falls forward, the white of his uniform nearly a blur with how fast he collapses onto the sofa, but it is nothing compared to the speed at which you rush to his side. 

You call his name, press two fingers to his throat, and let your eyes slip closed with a desperate concentration as you search for his pulse behind the blaring red of his collar. 

It’s a gradual pace, averaging twenty beats a minute and slowly rising. For anyone else, you’d immediately rush them to the hospital. For Xavier, that number is a relief. 

You hold your hand to your pounding heart, practicing deep measured inhales to calm it. It appears he fell asleep as soon as he entered the room, with only enough awareness to kick off his shoes at the door. 

It looks like your lecture will have to be postponed for another day. 

You’re thankful for all the training you had to take to become a hunter because it takes an enormous amount of effort to throw one of his arms over your shoulders and drag him to his bedroom. You make a mental note to never let him question your ability to carry him again as you sit him on the bed and shuffle off his uniform jacket, leaving him only in his pants. 

In a tender motion, you gently cup his face and examine him. Dirt cakes his face; and when you brush it away, there’s a small cut on his cheek. It hits you again just how reckless and secretive he can be, echoing with a bitter thought that he didn’t bring you again. The only bright spot is the little cut is his only injury this time. 

Laying him on his back, you leave for only a moment to get a warm washcloth and an adhesive from the bathroom. It’s a blue band-aid with a cartoonish pink bunny on it, something a kid would love and has probably been collecting dust in the drawer longer than you’ve been alive. 

It takes all the seriousness out of your body when you return, clean his face off, and place the colorful bandage on his cheek. It’s hard to believe this narcoleptic pretty boy was the strongest member of the Hunters Association. 

“I didn’t think when we moved in together I was going to become a babysitter,” you commented with a little huff and poke of his cheek. “You’re terrible at taking care of yourself. Can’t cook. Can’t stay awake. Can’t tell someone when you’re going out. I bet you didn’t even lock the door when you came in. …What if a Wanderer floated in after you and trampled all the flowers, or did you just not want to leave any for me tomorrow?”

You know your complaints are falling on deaf ears as he cuddles up to his pillow without a care in the world. But if you didn’t complain, you’d get depressed instead. Dropping to your knees, you sit on the floor and prop your elbow on the bed to get a better look at him. 

He looks so peaceful.

There’s no tension, no crease to his expression. It’d be easy to mistake him for a normal young man if it weren’t for the strong humming of his Evol tickling at the wall of your resonance.

“I’ll let you sleep, but you’re getting it in the morning! I expect answers. Otherwise, I won’t cook breakfast for you,” you attempt to sound threatening in your words with every poke to his cheek a not-so-silent promise to follow through. “I’ll take my missions with the new recruit all the ladies at work gossip about. And the next time I get a snack shipment, I’m letting Jeremiah have first pick!”

With one last prod to his face and no reaction otherwise, you stop your demands and sit back on your legs. 

Bit by bit, you feel your energy dissolving. It’s no use. It’s all empty threats. You’ll probably not cook for a few days, eat in front of him too, at least until he gives you those puppy eyes, and you’ll fold just like origami paper. You’ll still save him the snack you know he likes even if you allow Jeremiah first pick of the rest. And you’d never be interested in the new recruit or anyone else. 

Xavier can be distant and formal. For others, his hyper-independence was evident. Taking on missions alone and avoiding group settings is just the way Xavier’s personality works. He’s reliable and gets along with everyone at a surface level and he’s known to go out of his way to help others without seeking validation for it so it never ruffled any feathers when he goes off on his own or rejects an invitation to drink with the others after work. 

They didn’t see. They didn’t see how easy it was to care about him. They appreciate him but they weren’t aware of how intensely and passionately he could feel when he unfurls that independent nature. How he always quietly adjusts his dominant foot to point your direction whenever a Wanderer appears. How his voice drops and his touch becomes the smallest bit more graceful and careful when he sees you upset. How sweetly he looks when he sleeps.

It makes your resolve crumble and your heart squeeze, something only he can do without even being awake to know it. 

“You’re lucky I like you,” you mumble to him. 

As you lean closer, you easily ignore the stirring in your gut that tells you to stop. 

The bandage is a little rough against your lips as you seize the chance to kiss him. It’s a short and small thing, much more delicate than your prodding from earlier because you want to indulge the romantic in you. You want him to somehow sense the feelings cultivated in your heart over the past few months though impossible when he’s asleep.

You don’t let it last long. Instead, the desperate urge to feel his heat against you spurs you to rest your forehead against his cheek. It’s warm and soft, and the faint scent of pine trees of the no-hunt zone fills your nose. You savor being this close to him, allowing yourself to indulge in it until the heat on your skin starts to match his, and you finally let him have peace for the night.

With no need to remain in his room, you stand and pivot towards the door, wondering how you’ll manage to grasp any form of sleep tonight. However, you don’t make it two steps before there’s a tug at your arm.

You yelp as you’re pulled towards the bed while the shock has you stumbling forward into it. The hand leaving your arm in favor of grasping around your wrist stops you from falling completely but your knees have already buckled. You’re left nearly a head under him when he finally swings his legs over the side of the bed and shifts into a full sitting position. This position is oddly familiar. When you uncertainly force your eyes up to meet his face, this vulnerable angle becomes unmistakable.  

His voice is husked and rasped from sleep, sending a chill up your spine when paired with the swirling shadows darkening his blue eyes under his hooded lids and dark lashes. That’s the look of a predator, of the association’s strongest hunter, and you face the inkling realization that you’re the prey. 

Nervously, you begin to divert your eyes. He takes a page out of your own playbook and reaches under your chin to guide your sight back to him as you fight not to whimper at the pressure of his thumb pushing down as if he wants to part your lips. It isn’t until now that you notice how close you are to his lap and how another few inches would drop you to your knees.

“Why worry about Wanderers following me home when you’re so much scarier.”

“What do you mean?” 

Memory has never been your friend. This though is the first time you’ve forgotten how to breathe when his fingers completely close around your wrist. His hold is firm, preventing you from wringing your way out of his grasp, but it doesn’t hurt.

He might as well take that grasp and use it to squeeze your heart instead when he brings your hand to his face. You’re unsure what he’s planning; the awkwardness of the situation makes your fingers straighten and twitch away as he holds your hand closer to his face. Sensing your trepidation, he closes the last of the distance instead by tilting his head into your hand with the same affection as always as he lets your fingertip brush against the silly little bunny bandage. 

The familiarity of the motion puts your heart a little more at ease but not enough to bring your breathing back to you as he mumbles, “I don’t remember giving you permission to kiss me.”

Your lips part with a silent puff while your brows push forward, highlighting the confusion in your mind onto your face. He takes advantage of the moment to nuzzle your hand. It’s a notion you can’t appreciate as his words finally sink into your mind and reform into a horrifying conclusion.

“…You were awake the whole time.”

He chuckles so easily at the dry peep that echoes from you, the rivet of that warm sound collects in your palm and makes your face scalding hot. You didn’t face a burning heat like this even when fighting one of those flame dragons. All the while, Xavier was laughing at you…

“Not the whole time.”

With your head catching up, you find enough of yourself again to actually glare at him and smack his shoulder. “That’s not the point!”

With another display of strength, he locks your other wrist, pulls you up, and then snatches you into him. Luckily, you’re able to flatten your palms against his chest to brace yourself. His heart as well as his face is unnervingly calm compared to your own organ that’s currently orchestrating its escape from your chest, battering your ribcage even harder as you unconsciously stretch your fingers over his naked skin. 

You don’t like this. This bullying, which you only describe as such because you can’t think of a word more fitting for the way he’s treating you, is too one-sided. 

“It was on the cheek,” you argue with a steeled voice. You fake the confidence to stare him back down, choosing to trade your determination to confess to him tonight in exchange for preserving your pride. “It was friendly.”

To your satisfaction, your declaration of war makes him the one to pause this time. His eyes widen and there’s a quiver in those waves of blue that he hides by glancing down and away. 

“…Is that what it was?”

You nod. “I wasn’t…going to do anything else.”

Xavier smiles, shaking his head, and there’s a new determination in his eyes that causes your teeth to clench down on the inside of your cheek as he leans closer. 

“In that case, is it okay to return the favor?”

He doesn’t give you the time to answer. He’s already closing the distance, his dark lashes already fluttering, and his lips already puckering to kiss you as you’re squeezed flushed against him, only your palms stopping your chest from colliding with his. 

“Wait!”

Hearing your disapproval, he pauses, but that cheeky grin still doesn’t dissipate. 

“What's wrong?” he asks with a sigh. You’re sure it’s not a true question. “Am I not allowed to give you a friendly kiss as well.”

The implications make your stomach twist while your thighs squeeze together pathetically with the sudden throbbing of arousal that spikes through you as you tumble further and further into this rabbit’s trap.

“I—that’s!”

“So, you were misbehaving,” he concludes from your sheepishness. “I guess that means I need to punish you instead.” He breaks his hold around one of your wrists to ghost his fingertips along your cheek and down your neck until all you can do in response is breathe out a moan, much to his surprise given by the rise of his eyebrows and the slight dust of pink on his bewildered face. “…I didn’t think you were that sensitive there.”

Your mind swims with the traitorous thought of wanting to show him where you’re more sensitive dancing in your mind before you can sweep it away. When his fingers dance along your neck again, you whimper and hold in another moan.

“Don’t hold back on my account. You know my most sensitive spot after all, as hunting partners, it only makes sense for me to know yours, right?”

You can hardly think of a response to that. It’s true. You know his biggest weaknesses and as you come to terms with the situation you run your thumb over the plump inside of your thigh hesitantly. It takes you almost an entire minute to decide on what you want to say, and you don’t notice his hold on your wrist weakening.  

“My weakness—” 

Suddenly, your arm drops back to your side.

“I’m kidding,” Xavier states; the small smile he normally wears comes back to his face as you look up at him with wide eyes. “I was only curious as to what your reaction would be.”

The tension in the air wanes and buries itself in your heart. The embarrassment clings to every cell living in you, unshakeable as you try to keep a brave face. “You’re cruel.”

“Am I? You were the one touching me, all the while promising to run off with some rookie,” he reminds you. 

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t—you’re so frustrating,” you scream at him, and this is the first time he appears to take you seriously all night.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, with less teasing and more concern. He wraps an arm around your waist. His legs slot between yours, leaving your knees to collide with the plush of the bed as he hugs you tighter and tighter until you’re nearly seated in his lap. “Don’t be mad. I only thought—” 

“Xavier?”

“Did you really mean it then?” he redirects. He snakes his other arm around your waist, this time when he holds you it feels…weak, and his pursed lips and narrowed eyes hold back a troubled emotion. “That it was in a friendly way?”

Your breath hitches at the swirl of his thumbs nervously circling the small of your waist. Nervously, he waits for an answer you long lost in the rapids of the constantly changing tides of the last few minutes. 

“If you meant it…if you truly wanted to kiss me,” he pauses, trying to find his voice. The one to tell you that you’re all he thinks about. “Then you should have woken me up.” His face holds a serene glow that completely enraptures you as he looks up at you. “I wouldn’t have rejected you,” he swore.

He loved you so much it ached. Moving in together should have been enough to prove it. He guesses not; because when he thinks you want him back, you’re so hesitant to accept. Even now, you’re unable to respond. 

This cycle has become painful, even for someone as patient as himself, the wait when you’re this close to him is agonizing. So, he decides now to be the one to end this circle the two of you found yourself in with one decisive motion. 

He tests the waters, not knowing if he’ll swim or drown, but he has confidence in his ability to read your personality and actions as he cups the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. 

Your mind empties immediately, your body on autopilot when it registers the warm, silky skin of his lips on yours. Closing your eyes, you willingly tumble and fall into the taste of him, chasing after it when he breaks away. 

“There. We’re even,” he says, but to you, that’s far from the truth. You’re far from even after all the heartache and sleepless nights he’s been putting you through, after all the push and pull that left you aching and wanting both in your heart and between your thighs. 

The self-satisfied smile on his face quickly fades as you grope his shoulders, digging your nails in like you’re afraid he’ll escape. Your knees press to the top of the bed as you plant yourself more onto his lap. He braces his hands on your hips to catch you as you run your hand into his hair and crane his head back, so he has to look you in the eye.

His ears pinken at your sudden brazenness, but it doesn’t reflect in his voice as he smiles at you. “Are you trying to get more?” 

“Am I being too greedy?” you ask. He chuckles at the jut of your lips and the pleading eyes before you press another demanding kiss to the corner of his lips. 

Xavier moans from his throat as he latches onto your jaw to redirect your kisses to his lips. Kissing him is nearly maddening, the twitch of his muscular thighs under your ass making your mind hazy. With one hard squeeze at your hips, he catches up to the zealousness of your kisses. 

His tongue pokes and prods at your mouth. However, he doesn’t need much permission to keep going as you open your mouth wider. His mind skips and lags at just how quickly your mouth overtakes the slick appendage. It leaves him more than a little out of breath and flustered with the rate your mouths keep parting and meeting, tongues desperately searching and licking the inside your mouths as if this is the first meal you’ve had in weeks.

You’re hungry to memorize each other despite having all the time in the world now to do just that. When the two of you finally indulged enough and earned enough satisfaction, you’re able to calm down and readjust the pace. 

“I think we’re both greedy,” he jokes about the both of you before sliding his tongue back into your mouth. This time he’s slower as he presses down on your tongue, causing your teeth to lightly graze over the top of his.

There are too many sensations going on for you to keep up. The way your breasts hug his hard chest has you feeling sensitive while the heat seeping from his tongue stroking in your mouth has your stomach bundled in tight knots that won’t know release until he’s inside of you. 

Dreams were nothing compared to this. Nights filled with nothing but inappropriate thoughts of him turn into nightmares at the slim chance of having to face them again should this go wrong. 

Impatiently, his fingers curve into the hump of your ass to anchor you and encourage you to grind on his lap, or rather grind against the hard tent brazenly making its presence known with each hurried roll of your hips.

You whine from the separation of your sexes when he begins to lift you up, but your complaints quickly die in your throat. They’re replaced by a squeal as he flips you and your back bounces on the mattress.  

Xavier climbs over you, his face flushed, breath ragged, and overall, he’s just absolutely beautiful to you. Reaching up, you cup his cheek and play with the ends of his hair, unable to recall the last time you’ve felt this high. 

“Xavier,” you whisper breathlessly as you swoop his bangs back to see more of his handsome face and save it to memory. “What are we?”

Xavier tilts his head, furrowing his brow at your question, and there’s a second where a ray of doubt breaks through the clouds of lust in his irises. “We’re…whatever you want to be.”

“I want to be with you,” you say. Those words tumble out more effortlessly than you ever thought. 

Xavier overlaps your hand with his, holding on tight as if to prove a point. “You are with me.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” he corrects. Then, he dazzles you as he always does, “I want you to tell me so there’s no mistake, and you can’t take it back later.”

You inwardly become embarrassed when it crosses your mind that this is the first time you’ve ever confessed to him without multiple drinks in your system. It’s too late to turn back now that you’ve crossed the Milky Way and landed on the other side. 

But why would you when you’re so close?

“I want to be with you always. Whenever and wherever you are. Whether that’s having fun together or fighting. I-I love you, and—”

“And I love you,” he answers. You’re not sure if you’re jealous or relieved that he can say those three words without hesitation.

“I don’t want anything to be between us. I don’t want any more secrets or hidden things. I’m tired of this. I just want to be real, more than partners or roommates or whatever other title that isn’t boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“Okay,” Xavier agrees as easily as he agreed to be roommates with you in the first place. 

“Okay?”

“I want that too,” he agrees as he repositions himself on top of you and his lips curve into a small smirk, “girlfriend.”

You’re accustomed to the finicky organ known as your heart tightening with pain when you’re overwhelmed; this time when it skips a beat, it’s welcomed. Smiling, you gaze up at him as he releases a slow, strained breath. It’s validating to know he’s been just as nervous as you.

Everything suddenly becomes full force again when his knees move to either side of your legs while he pins your hands above your head in one tight fist. His teeth nip at your earlobe, and his free hand gropes at your breast, fingers outstretching to fully take it in his grasp. Wet kisses burn on your throat, each one firing off a rapid signal to arch your back. 

“Slow down,” you whine before cutting it off with a moan as he hits a particular delicate spot. The discovery spurs him on, like a pet with a new toy, and he bites your nape once again causing your hips to jerk. With a burning desire building in your stomach at every touch, you pitifully hug your thighs together to try to ease it. “I didn’t get a chance to absorb all that,” you tell him, mostly to get some time to catch up. It backfires wonderfully as he grips onto the bottom of your tank top.

“I have a better way to help you understand.”

The sheets shift with his movement, your lower half dipping towards him as if he holds his own gravitational field. He settles between your legs and strokes against you with one slow, languid rock. It instantly makes you throb. It’s painful how hard you clench over absolutely nothing, panties gathering the lust that’s dripping from you.  

You simultaneously hate and love him for causing this need that’s bubbling inside you. 

Large hands press your shirt further up your torso. “Arms up,” he demands softly, which you have no problem obeying, and he quickly lifts your shirt over your head.

He lowers his hands to hold at your waist, and they fall still on you as he takes in your naked skin. You’re not privy to his thoughts. The silence of the room feels defean-ing now that your needy gasps of air aren’t filling it.

He pauses, eyes taking you in as you raise your eyebrows at his hesitancy. Xavier smiles, mumbling out, “Just thinking where to start.”

Xavier smiles at you so tenderly. Everything about him is incredibly soft on first appearance. He has big blue puppy eyes, he prefers white, cozy clothes, and his voice is just as gentle as his appearance. Everything about him is soft except for his hands. 

Those are hardy and battle-honed, worn with calluses built up with every swing of the sword he’s taken since he was a child, enough of them to slay thousands of Wanderers over the years. 

They drag.

Oh, they drag so dangerously slow over your skin, dipping into the pudge of your stomach and highlighting a small circle in the warm, buzzing glow of his Evol. The rays shine gold over your flesh, shimmering brightly in the dark of the room. 

“Here,” he states before hunting down another spot on your torso. A beauty mark, like a beacon, earns the sharp eyes of a hunter. He zones in on the vulnerable location, creating a golden target. “Maybe here.”

You squirm with every mapped spot he creates. “Xavier.”

The residue of his power leaves your skin humming; you’re overly aware of each spot he highlights with his power. You like to think your senses would still be heightened regardless of this little game. After all, you’ve been wanting him to touch you forever.

Every night next to him felt like torture, being unable to touch him more than a hug when all you could feel on your back was his hard chest, his arm tight around your waist, and the outline of his cock against your ass as he sighed in your ear.

It runs through your head that he must have put more thought into touching you than you assumed as he continues to stripe lines over the top of your thighs right under your night shorts, making your breath heavy in your throat. You’re no longer sure if he’s marking you to tease you, to track what parts of your body he’s claimed for himself, or to simply make you laugh from the humming of his Evol tickling you like fuzzy static on an old tv screen. Even as he smiles at your shallow giggles, there’s no denying the aura of possession radiating from him that makes you antsy when he finally presses his finger to your sternum.

“Let’s start here,” he says followed by a soft hum as he tattoos a line straight between your breasts, leaving you highlighted in slowly fading graffiti.

“About time you decided,” you say with an playfully exaggerated roll of your eyes. He cocks his head at you with a sly smile.

“I can’t help if I want to touch all of you,” he murmurs. Any response you had ready dies when he licks the encircled zone of your shoulder then swiftly to the notch of your throat, drawing a moan out of you that you didn’t think you were capable of until you met him.

Tilting your head, you allow him more room to work as he kisses your chest. His warm tongue slips through the line he marked, his nose dragging against you as he litters your engorged skin with kisses. 

“More,” you beg. Who was he to keep you waiting any longer?

He slips a fingerpad over the tip of your nipple, gently pressing down and then rolling it. It does nothing to satiate you. Satisfaction keeps escaping your grasp, the goalpost of what’s enough moving further out of reach with every pinch and pull of your pebbling nipples. Chasing it makes you brash, and you give a hard push to the back of his head. 

Just as you want, he spoils you. He bites and nips the supple skin, drawing out soft pleas from your angelic lips. When he finally graces you with the slick, velvety lap of his tongue on your pert nipple, you mewl and arch. His lips are a little rough after being out all night, his hunger for you more palpable than ever as he gropes harder and sucks at your wet skin. 

Your aching pussy throbs with every brush of his clothed cock. Your patience drains more and more as you crave something to fill you. It isn’t until he switches sides and gently nips and suckles around your other teat that you realize he’s been fingerprinting you with his Evol, the polka dots slowly fade away each time he adjusts his hand to knead your breast.  

“You’re still being cruel,” you manage between moans. 

“I think I’m being very fair,” he reasons, recapturing your lips to silence your complaints, and it works as your mind keeps repeating when his tongue makes a temporary reservation back in the confines of your mouth. 

When he parts with you again, he cements it with a soft kiss then another. He keeps peppering them on you so fast that you almost miss the way his tongue darts over your bottom lip before his teeth bite down. 

Xavier sighs between his kisses, each one adding more pressure, turning from loving, adoration-filled into needy, heavy smooches.

“Wanted.”

Another kiss that leaves you whimpering.

“To.”

He fondles your chest again, alternating between rolling and pinching your sensitive, puffed nipple then grasping your bare tits in his hands, molding and kneading them.

“With you.”

With your thighs closing at his waist, you curve your back and meet the sloppy buck of his hips. There’s a rush of excitement leaking from you when his kisses trail back over your breasts, hitting the tiny ring of bite marks he seared on you before tracing across the targets of light decorating your belly. 

“So bad.”

Skin on fire, legs spread wide to accommodate his chest as he sinks lower to press wet kisses to your stomach, you call out to him. “Xavier, baby,” you whisper and brush his hair to get his attention. And does he give it to you when his eyes flick up to look at you from under the grey tuffs of his hair.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight. 

You bring your finger to your lips, not only to pry them open so you can speak but also because you need to bite on it. Otherwise, the surge of lust in you at the sight of his head so close to your cunt and the back of your thighs resting on his broad shoulders would cause you to cum right there. 

“My most sensitive spot…is my legs…”

It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, and he quirks his eyebrows up at you with false concern. He lowers his head to kiss your stomach again, this time noticeably closer to your mound. “Are you sure you want to tell me that in this situation? It isn’t wise for the prey to put themselves at a disadvantage.”

“I said no secrets,” you remind him, curling a finger to beckon him back up. Inwardly, you curse that he decides to bring your legs with him by keeping them propped up on his shoulders. Somehow, you manage to ignore his obvious teasing and poke at the cutesy adhesive still stuck on his face. “If you were listening, you should know you’re still in trouble for sneaking off so much without telling me.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he tells you, a layer of remorse riding his explanation. “I wasn’t expecting to go anywhere.”

Amused, you shake your head at how boyish he sounds as he defends himself while he pulls off that wide and pleading look to bolster his cause. Even with your amusement, you’re not willing to let him off just yet. Sternly, you tap his cheek again. 

“That’s not going to work this time.”

Pouting, Xavier holds onto your hand, stopping your playful jabs. “Please give me a chance to lighten my sentence, Miss Hunter, it was unintentional,” he negotiates with a kiss on your palm. The sincerity in his request eases your heart enough to allow him a little wiggle room, or perhaps it’s the slick trailing more between your folds. 

“You only got until morning to make a case for yourself.”

“I’ll make you forget by then.” He snatches up your ankle towards his face, a much more pleasant position than your last, as your muscles were starting to ache from having your knees pushed to your face. 

He caresses your ankle, pressing an airy kiss. The little bump of his nose against the ball of your ankle tickles, making a giggle cascade from your lips as you slide lower with the pull of your leg.  

“Silly,” he mumbles before shuffling off your shorts. Your underwear comes off with more of a fight, the stickiness soaked into it causing the dainty fabric to cling lewdly to your skin and outline to the shape of your cunt. 

You don’t often hear Xavier curse but that’s what happens along with his tongue rolling over his upper lip when he catches the image. He reaches out and his fingers twitch, threatening to curve against the spreading stain in your panties but he resists and hooks his fingers into the waistband. He takes his sweet time watching the doused material peeling from you with thin strands of cum sticking to it.

It takes him more effort than he’d like to admit to resist diving straight in. Instead, he keeps it slow, sensual, as much for his sake as yours as he skims his lips up your calf.

He does the same with your center, carefully pressing two fingers against you as he holds your leg up on his shoulder. His mouth stays on your inner thigh, but his eyes are entirely locked on his fingers and the way they effortlessly collect your cum and slip between your lips with barely a push. You can feel his breath shudder out against you before he forces it down with a bite of your thigh but that does nothing to hide the way his entire body tenses when his fingers slip from your clit all the way to your clenching hole. 

It does nothing good for your ego or your sanity to think how normally calm and collected Xavier is losing his composure just by touching you. How he’s so obviously turned on when you haven’t nearly returned as much as he’s been giving you. 

He presses his hands at the crook of your thighs, pushing your legs further apart, and quenches himself between your legs. His name leaves you in one low drawn-out sigh. Sure, you were baiting him when you told him your weakness, but you weren’t expecting him to abuse the knowledge so readily. 

He held your legs blood cuttingly tight to keep you from squirming away from his wriggling tongue, and by the moan that reverberates from his chest and the strong jerk against the mattress when your juices hit his tongue, you think he would only be satisfied if you crushed his head between your straining thighs. When he suckles your clit; when his voice, muffled, hits your pussy; when his biceps tighten around your legs as if encouraging you to do so, and when his eyes meet yours with a silent demand, you know that’s exactly what he wants.

At the plunging of his fingers in you, you break down, catch his head in a vice-like grip, and push him into you. Your heart flutters and the remaining butterflies in your stomach migrate away at the growl he lets out. Your walls happily clench around those thick fingers, your dripping hole making it easy and smooth work to pump in and out of you. You’re not sure when he decides he would rather feel your muscle tightening around his tongue instead, but you can only respond with the tilt of your head back into the sheets and the stroke of your heel on his bare back when it happens. 

The only thing better is his palm grinding down on your clit, alternating between slow rotations and rough sporadic grinding that has your toes curling and your eyes glossing with the buildup of tears.

“You’re too loud,” he comments yet he doesn’t stop, in fact, he presses down harder, making you whine. “You’re going to wake the neighbors.”

“Since when have you cared what the neighbors think?” you barely manage to whimper out. 

“I’m not worried about them. I just don’t want anyone else to hear what only I should,” he remarks, lapping up the juices spilling down your legs.

His confession is a surprise to you. You never took him to be so possessive. But if that possessiveness is what kept his tongue swirling on your swollen clit and an intense moan escaping your lips then you didn’t mind. 

However…

His fingers weren’t enough anymore. 

Choosing to surprise him, you decide to turn the tables on him. You jerk your legs, catching him off guard but not enough to tip him over. He looks at you with concern. It doesn’t stop you from trying again with extra force this time until you can weaken his grasp and force him down on his back. 

Having the world’s strongest hunter under you was only something you could dream of—first as a rival and now as a lover. The adrenaline has you tunnel-visioned as you straddle his stomach, your soaked cunt making a waterboard out of his abs, which Xavier has also picked up on if the dusky pink on his cheeks is anything to go by.

You grab his hands, gripping tight to regain his attention. Xavier looks taken back especially when your fingers interlock his and pin them back. Whether he’s shocked or curious you don’t know, and you also don’t ask to borrow his power. 

“You’ve been having too much fun,” you tell him as you check to make sure your finger is sufficiently coated with light. “For my turn, I’ll attack here and here,” you whisper, marking off his chest and drawing a line across his neck.

There’s a hint of worry finally when he sees you’re aiming for his weak spot. “If you’re trying to teach me the best spot to kill Wanderers, I already know.”

“More like the best spots to defeat a Xavier,” you remark, flattening your palm over his heart, finding your own thumping when you verify that you finally managed to raise his heart rate to the levels of a normal human.

“You’re pretty forward today.” Xavier reaches out to hold your hips and cocks his head at you with an inquisitive glance. “Are you always this easy to excite or is it because of me?” 

You feel your face heat at his question. As if he didn’t already know the answer. No one else could make you like this. Needy. Shy. Aroused. Flustered. Confused. Infatuated and in love more than you’ve ever been. 

Your eyes soften. “And if I said it was you?”

“Then, you can use me all you want,” he confesses and gently coaxes you back to sit on his hard cock. You smoothly slide your hands to his shoulders, rotating loving strokes into his fair skin before you stop to free his cock from his pants.

It springs readily into your palm, so responsive. You reward him by letting him have a little taste of you. He tries to hide the hitch of his breath as if he could hide any reaction from you right now. It’s so hard to get him to react to anything, and your brain won’t let you miss a single moment as you sit back onto his lap and grind.

His cock slides between your lips, so big that you can feel it stroking you fully, his swollen, dribbling head making you whimper whenever it bumps your clit. 

“You, you’re so—” he begins, his eyes flitting from the gentle shake of your tits to his cock glistening between your folds, but he loses his voice to a low whimper when you increase your pace. It’s not on purpose but you can’t help yourself; you’re aching for him just as much as he is for you. “Hah, please...” 

His cock is leaking onto him with each sleek thrust, a little pool of precum glistening on his belly as your hips buck. It makes your stomach twist and your insides twitch to see him so excited for you.

“Not yet,” you tell him, brushing fingers across the length of his throat. His mouth parts with a croak that plasters a crooked smile on your face.

His eyebrows knit, and he frowns as you decide to tease him a little by slowing your strokes while your nails continue to follow the thick vein protruding from his neck as he desperately holds down his whines. 

“And you call me the cruel one.”

He was gorgeous under you. Beautifully flushed and sheened with sweat. His lips were so close to quivering each time his swollen head was swallowed back under your heat. It’s strange how his pitiful expression actually excites you, leaving you wetter and funneling this cycle of him repeatedly scrunching his face before relaxing it with a moan. 

“Please,” he asks again, this time more politely, pleadingly, and downright cutely. He knows what he’s doing because you decide to take pity on him when he gazes at you. “Please let me have you?”

It takes only a second for you to reposition yourself and hover over him. There’s a split hesitation when it registers that you’re actually going to have sex with him and how large he actually is with his cock standing tall and the tip kissing at your entrance.  You press downward anyway.

The stretch is both painful and pleasurable, straining your nerves as you lower. The wince on your face is accompanied by a hiss on your lips. However, Xavier is there again to catch you.

“Let’s take our time,” he instructs.

You nod, slowly thrusting halfway onto him. Each rise and fall of your hips coating him with your cream little by little makes it a bit easier to sheath him each bounce. 

“Good girl,” he whispers soothingly. Face constricting, he bites down on his lip to hold in a weak groan. It’s not your fault that the praise made your walls flutter and tighten.

When you finally suck him in completely, your eyes roll. 

“There you go,” he continues. He slides his hand into one of yours, encouraging you to hold onto it as you slowly and pointedly follow the curve of his cock, “Just like that,” he rasps out.    As you take him in fully, your pussy reaching his lap and pushing against his balls, you find it hard to concentrate on the exact words leaving him.

You take a minute to sit with him fully sheathed inside of you, allowing your stretched core to get more accustomed to his cock and also for the high of joining with him to cool off. Otherwise, you’d lose control.

You feel so full. It’s a wonderful sensation, and the pleasure increases tenfold when you lift your hips then have him stretch you again.

Rubbing your fingertips into the back of his palm, you lift and slam back onto him again, causing a ragged groan from you both that ricochets off the walls of the room. It isn’t until now that you recognize how bad you’ve been needing this.

Needed him. 

You’re still nowhere near understanding why this need is inside of you. Anyone can give you pleasure, and he’s not the first, but nothing quite matched the warmth overtaking you when his cock pistons and rubs against your nerves as you ride him. 

The thought that Xavier was right about fate being written in the stars barely breaks through the thick fog of arousal clouding your brain. The heat spurs you to bounce harder to meet his jerking thrusts. 

He sighs under you; the pressure on his lower half increases while your eyesight blurs and your head angles back. You’ll both be each other’s undoing at this rate, he thinks, as he watches the beads of sweat accumulating in little shiny droplets on your forehead and on your bouncing chest in a light sheen.

Chasing that desire to see you undone, he pulls you to a halt, burying himself deep inside of you, before pressing his hand to your mound, brushing past the patch of damp hair to zone in on your sticky, swollen clit. 

The instant whine of his name makes him dizzy. Centuries have gone by, and he’s never heard you say his name with such wanton desperation nor seen you grind onto him, stirring his cock in you as if your sanity depended on it.  

His certainly depended on you. Always has especially in the many decades he thought he’d never see you again. That need is even clearer from how sensitive yet eager his cock is to you squeezing around it as you shudder on top of him while keeping an unbearably tight hold on his hand. Your movements come to a near stop except for the occasional rut to prolong the rush of your orgasm. 

The sight of you breaking down on top of him threatens to make his eyes roll back as he squeezes onto your legs for grounding. Your strangled gasp followed by your muscles relaxing tells him that you’re coming down.  

“I take it you’ve finished,” Xavier says with a smirk, and you only have half the mind to swat at his chest like a lazy cat. Your legs burn, your chest unable to fill with enough oxygen to catch your breath. You think you’ll skip the gym tomorrow but Xavier has other plans.

“I’m not finished,” he reminds you. 

You look down at Xavier; you’d been so busy finding your own pleasure, you didn’t realize he hadn’t cum yet. You feel a lingering guilt but he swiftly takes the situation into his own hands.

You’re still too sensitive to fight back as he slides his cock out of you with a wet pop. It takes two swift movements for him to lift you off of him and roll you onto your stomach.

Your chest feels restricted, tight to the mattress as he presses on top of you, his grey-brown hair rubbing your shoulder as he cuddles your back. It’s an affectionate notion, distracting from the pressure in your lower half as he slides off the last of his clothes and thrusts his cock back inside of you. 

You thought you were filled to the brim the first time, yet this angle was different. It felt much tighter, and the slightest shift of his hips had you muffling moans into your arms. 

“I want to hear you,” he sweetly requests, yanking on your hips to raise your ass higher and pull you further away from the muffling effects of the bed. Your fracturing mewls mix into his grunts, both sounds washing out the sloppy, wet paps of his cock pounding into you. 

His hand swoops down your bending back in one long soothing stroke before his head collapses onto you. His grunts are loud, tumbling right into your ear along with the slapping sound of his hips meeting your ass. Your legs feel like jelly, and the rest of your body becomes weightless as your mind only focuses on his cock recklessly burning its way through you.

Xavier’s breath rolls against your back along with his forehead as he buries you under his weight; his grip on your thighs tightens to an unbearable degree, leaving you to wonder if you’ll have marks in the morning. 

You don’t really care if he does when he moans your name and heat fills you, spreading with each sporadic thrust until he finally bottoms out inside you one last time and holds until he completely empties. 

Taking his time to enjoy the sensation, he waits before pulling out of you, making you whimper with the sudden void. Shakily, you collapse back into the sheets and flip onto your back with a sigh. His eyes are still half-lidded as he watches you; he chews briefly on his bottom lip, reminding you of the look in his eyes earlier. 

“Xavier,” you question but he silences you with a kiss, which you tiredly return. His fingertips slide down from your knee to your thigh, and he teases your opening, the mixture of cum making it easy for him to stroke your still spasming pussy. 

Xavier sighs against your lips before moving his kisses to the swoop of your neck. “You’re so beautiful and all mine.”

Your mouth parts with a dry moan as he slides thick fingers over your clit. It starts to ache from his touch but it’s hard to deny him, even as he tortures you with his methodic and precise rotations over the bead.

His name is on your mouth, each syllable heavy on your tongue. You leave garbled gasps in his mouth as he makes out with you while your hand draws down his chest, attempting to make a mental map of every twitching muscle and healed wound on the way down.

Your heart jumps with the twitch of his cock when you wrap your hand around it. There’s going to be no trouble getting him to rebound, you think. He’s already thickening again with the warm strokes of your hand and tracing of your fingers over the slowly beating vein lining the underside of his shaft. 

Xavier doesn’t even let you finish exciting him before he rolls back on top of you and settles his head between your breasts. Between all the cum in between your legs and his half-hard cock, it isn’t as mind-numbing to have him inside you. What is different is to feel him twitching and growing inside you with his renewed thrusts. 

You’re hiccupping by the time he pushes your legs back and starts to hit deep inside of you, leaving the corner of your eyes tearing. You’re overwhelmed with everything. The uncharacteristic amount of energy he possesses as his hips snap into you. How each powerful rock leaves tingles aftershock-ing inside you, ruining your chances to recover before he does it again. The heavy scent of sex mixed with pine overwhelms your nose. His sweaty chest blocks out any light in the room, sealing any notion that you can be distracted by anything other than him as he pushes up your knee towards your chest.

You’re quickly working up to your second orgasm; the painful cramping in your foot tells you it’ll be bigger than the last. You’re right. When you come undone again, it’s with a shrill sob. You’re too out of it to even register when he finishes until he starts kissing your neck again.

He’s still inside you, you realize once your mind finally lands back on earth. His cock is resting in the heat inside you, waiting for him to work the two of you back up again. You know that’s the goal when his thumb gently brushes over one of your nipples again. Your sore insides constrict and strain. You don’t think you could survive a third round. 

“Xavier, please, no more.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice dry and husky in your ear as he kisses under it. 

“Too much,” you tell him, pushing on his chest to make some space between the two of you.  

“I didn’t catch that,” he coos defiantly. When he notices that you’re being serious, he obediently pulls out of you. His kisses become smoother as he pecks your lips. “What’s wrong? Is it aching?”

You nod then puff your cheeks in frustration when you see the amusement on his face.

“It’s not funny!” you say, holding onto that angry, childish pout until his smile turns sympathetic. 

“You’re right,” he agrees and shifts off you. Quickly, he locates his briefs on the corner of the bed. He steps out of bed and pulls them on. To your surprise, he leaves you, alone and cold.  

“Where are you going?”

Xavier disappears without answering you and only the sound of running water gives you any sort of hint of where he might’ve gone. When he returns, it’s with a rag dangled in his hand. 

“A boyfriend should help clean his girlfriend up after times like this,” he explains and leans over you; he presses the wet cloth between your legs; the rag is incredibly soothing on your bloated skin. It’s a blessing to your sore muscles as he starts to massage and clean you. “It feels better already, doesn’t it?”

“I guess,” you answer pitifully, grumbling a bit because the look on his face still seems like he’s teasing about your neediness. 

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s my fault you’re a little sore.” He’s definitely taunting you, but you don’t have the energy to fight about it. “All done,” he remarks, tossing the rag to a forgotten section of the dresser. He carefully climbs back on top of you, waiting for the moment your hand finds his bicep to guide him down next to you. 

It isn’t the first time he’s been this affectionate, and it won’t be the last time. However, this time feels more special than any time you’ve slept together, and not just because you can feel the stickiness of his sex-clad skin against your naked body. Well, that’s part of the reason.

“Something on your mind?”

“Nothing. I’m really happy,” you explain. 

“If it really makes you that happy, maybe we should do it more often,” he offers, and you pinch his unwounded cheek to punish him. Jumping back, he knocks your hand away and caresses his wounded face. “I’ll need another bandage if you keep doing that,” he complains weakly. 

“You only have yourself to blame!”

Xavier sighs. “You’re always right,” he concedes, more so that he can cuddle you without fighting rather than actually agreeing with you, you fear. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“Are you really doubting your boyfriend?” he asks. Heartbeat skipped, you clamp your mouth shut as he unfolds the blankets over the two of you. 

It’s finally settling back into your mind that the two of you are a couple now. “I’m still…not used to it yet with you being that.”

“You will get used to it the longer we’re together. The same as I will.” Xavier sighs, happily so. “Although, we might run into the same problem again.”

You blink at him. “Why?”

Thoughtful, Xavier hums then explains, “First comes love then comes marriage as they say.”

He catches you off-guard once more. As always, Xavier is forever forging on ahead with little regard for convention. “Aren’t you thinking too far ahead?”

“Maybe,” he agrees but there’s no drop in his confidence as he smiles at you and draws his hand over your hairline. “But I loved you since we met.”

“Xavier, please,” you beg, finding your favorite place to hide your flustered face in the crook of his elbow. 

He can’t help but laugh at you as he curls his arm around you. “Especially that,” he confesses and places one more kiss on the top of your head before inviting you to go to sleep. 

You do, falling asleep against his chest less than thirty minutes later. For him, sleep is elusive for once as he mulls over the day’s events.

The word girlfriend on his tongue is sweet. The idea itself burns wonderfully in his chest, but it isn’t enough. He knows he still needs to wait a bit longer, take his time, your bashful response to his prodding was enough to tell him that it isn’t time yet. It’s hard not to rush when this is the closest he’s ever been to the one thing he truly wants. 

Xavier guesses he’ll still have to rely on his dreams for a little while longer. It’s okay, he tells himself, it’ll work out this time. He’ll find a place to settle with you and have a quiet life, a place where he can see stars. 

And this lifetime, when he asks you to marry him, he hopes you’ll say yes.

[jensettermandu]

fish that drown - huh yunjin

content; smut, slight angst, fluff (kind of), a little plot

pairing; g!p yunjin x female reader

content; implications of an unhealthy relationship, praising, blowjob, p in v :D, slightly rough (?), a slight size thing (Y/n being/having smaller proportions than yunjin??), bulging, Y/n calls her Jen, small age gap (y/n is younger by two years), probably everything

synopsis; together it feels like drowning in the best way possible because anything above the surface feels too cold for them despite it burning whenever they drown together. each time they give each other another chance as they find back to each other with nothing but love forgetting everything that made them leave to begin with.

wc; 7k+

masterlist

Each second was tantalising, it was filled with dim colours seeping through the smogged window with raindrops holding the lights of the outside in them. Each breath was a promise of another second to live and chances for more empty promises. The promise of breaking habits to make it work despite them being routines that stayed forever. It was the comfort of now rather than the worries of tomorrow, knowing it would be a cycle forever. 

Arms securely wrapped around Y/n as they lay together as if they had a forever together. As if they would grow old together and love each other through thick and thin, but they had always been walking a thin line between love and hate. 

It was the problem of falling for each other’s flowers, but never taking time to get to know the roots. It got difficult to figure out what to do when fall came and everything crumbled, the petals falling and blowing away with the wind, all that was left was a promise of coming back by spring. 

“Yunjin, I seriously have to go.” She tried because despite them being securely wrapped around her, it didn’t mean that they were home. Certain places would just never feel like a home no matter how much of a home they were. It could be their natural habitat, but they would always be prey and that made it difficult to feel at home. It was still hard to let go especially when the place appealed so much to one and they wished for it to be theirs only.

Was spring close?

“Stay, I want you to stay, Y/n–” Yunjin sighed, her fingers brushing over the younger girl’s spine as she turned over to reach to the floor for her clothes. Her palm smoothed over Y/n’s waist and like painting someone with scorching metal she slid it over to her stomach, leaving her every touch to linger forever on Y/n’s body. It was like empty canvases and when they met they became the artwork that was only visible through their eyes. “We can go out in the morning and talk.” She suggested and the feline in her arms exhaled as she got pulled back into her. 

Y/n’s body was dwelling in the fire, every part of her was enjoying it, her heart was beating heavily because the feelings Yunjin made her feel were heavy from how much she felt with the ginger. Her brain was the only rational thing at the moment, but rationality was a curse when they were together and jumping head-first into the unknown waters was more thrilling than dipping toes to test them. The best thing about it was the lily pads that looked pretty on the surface but were more beautiful from under the water when they tangled around their limbs and dragged them down further with no chance of escape. 

Spring had come and Y/n knew that she wasn’t leaving and neither was Yunjin.

“My members’ are going to strangle me if I am not back at the dorm tonight.” She mumbled, opening her phone to see that she had already received texts wondering when she would be back. It wasn’t the going out that was the problem, it was the limbs she got tangled in that were and they were either fed up or they cared too much to continue watching their friends drown. A mix of both perhaps. 

Neither of the two could help it. They just knew the second that they met that they would fall in love with each other shortly and they did. 

The colours from above the water looked so much prettier from under the surface where they drowned in each other. 

“Tell them you’re staying over then.” 

That only meant that they were set in stone that had grown moss, scraping it away to reveal their names together again.

Y/n stared at her phone while Yunjin’s hand ran over her stomach, caressing the soft and smooth skin that was warm. The redhead's lips slowly started to trail kisses along her shoulder while grabbing hold of Y/n’s waist, pulling the girl closer to her because no amount of closeness was ever enough. 

“They will kill me if I do that–” Y/n was interrupted by her phone that started to buzz as she was receiving a call. It made Yunjin glance up at the phone screen while propping herself up on her arm beside Y/n’s head. The girl declined the call with Yunjin going right back to engraving herself on her skin with delicate kisses that were like the flapping of a butterfly's wings as she kissed up to the girl’s neck. 

Y/n declined the call once again because she would have difficulty deciding if she should tell the truth or lie to Jimin. She was quite sure her members would give her an earful after watching her cry for the past two months. 

They told Y/n to forget about Yunjin and everything she did and to move on. 

Y/n did and so she ended up right back with Yunjin after forgetting why she left to begin with as she had moved on from the bad. 

They both forgot why they left and only saw the good and it was enough to get back in the waters together. 

0:22

jimin> answer

0:22

> what is it?

0:23

jimin> answer the call

0:24

> why??

0:24

jimin> because i told you to answer?

Y/n glanced away from the phone and at their reflections in the big glass windows where water was trickling down, illuminating the city lights with the sky shedding tears. It was cold outside which made it so much more difficult to leave when she was drowning in Yunjin’s warmth. Each breath was filled with the scent that filled their lungs, it was like falling, but not through the sky, there was no pressure in the fall. It was like slowly drowning. 

It was agonisingly gratifying to be with each other.

Her fingers tangled in the red hair as Yunjin wrapped her arm around Y/n’s waist, holding her against her body. The older let out a humid hum that painted Y/n’s skin with goosebumps before she pushed her face into the crook of her neck, her kisses wet and languid. 

The feline eyes left the window where she had watched the two bodies slowly get prepared for the dance that took two again, knowing that neither was leaving. She looked at her phone when it started to vibrate in her hold again.

“You can just tell the truth and we won’t have to run around hiding.” She couldn’t help but whisper and put her thoughts in Y/n’s head. 

It made Y/n sigh as she knew that it would be better to just say the truth. She’s been seeing Yunjin again after yet another break-up that was supposed to be the final goodbye. It felt impossible to say goodbyes when all they did was end up together the next time they ran into each other or thought too much of the other. The past two weeks had been spent hiding from their members, sneaking to restaurants, on dates, and to hotels after and now Yunjin had gotten Y/n into her group dorm. 

They hadn’t been home and when they did get there no one bothered checking who exactly Yunjin brought over. Y/n hadn’t thought far enough to think about how she would leave, but probably early at dawn. 

How long could they hide their spring from everyone else?

“Do you genuinely think that’s a good idea?” 

“No.” 

Y/n hummed and answered the phone call at last.

There was no way to emancipate from this because love made them willing slaves. 

“It’s late and you just left hours ago without a word. Where are you?”

Y/n knew that she never usually left without a word, but she didn’t know what lies to tell anymore. It felt unfair to both of them, but the girl was scared of receiving disappointed looks from her friends who had been there for her after she had cried herself to sleep every night. Y/n felt horrible for shedding so many tears, putting them under her gloomy cloud only to end up with the cause of it again.

“I'm not with Yunjin.” 

Somehow she felt the need to defend herself because she didn’t want to think to herself that she was with the girl again. It had been on and off for three years and at some point it had to be enough, didn’t it? It wasn’t time for it yet though. Their love had yet to die. 

“I didn’t think you would be either.”

“Why not?” 

She frowned somewhere between relieved and disappointed that Jimin didn’t think that she was with her ex-girlfriend. Perhaps the hurt of thinking that she had moved on and would see someone else just like Yunjin. She wasn’t ready to see someone else, she was even less ready to see Yunjin with someone else. The only people they were seeing were each other with the past forgotten and all the reasons why they left to begin with. That had been the point all along, to forget what the other had done which only ended with reasons to get back together. 

“You make it sound like you want me to think it.”

“I’m just curious why you are so sure.”

“Minjeong was talking with Chaewon to see if you were there, but she told her that Yunjin had someone over.”

It went silent, the girl on the other end waiting for Y/n to talk who looked down at Yunjin in the neon shades and colours that seeped through the windows. It was all she could see whenever she was with her, all the colours and the shades, they were comforting and made her feel safe. The colours that Yunjin painted her with were her comfort. 

“Oh.” Was all she was able to get out, thinking about how relieved everyone seemed that the two weren’t together. 

“I’m sorry, I maybe shouldn’t have–”

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m more than fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” 

Y/n reassured her because she was fine in the end, she was with Yunjin and she didn’t need to be anywhere else. She liked these cold waters that her skin got used to, they felt warm, and they filled her lungs and burned which caused so much warmth to course through them. There was no escaping it as they were tangled in each other while sinking to the bottom of waters that were their home, that they should swim in, but the second one of them tried to swim the other got pushed down further and grasped onto harder which made them both only sink further into each other. There was no swimming away from the other and leaving them behind in the perfectly blue ocean with twinges of red. 

“Okay, that’s good to hear. When are you coming home then? You never said where you went.” 

“I will be home in the morning, I’m with Hanni.” 

“Okay then, goodnight, Y/n.”

“Goodnight.” 

She dropped her phone on the bed and huffed when Yunjin pulled away from her neck, their legs tangling, it was just them behind the curtains. “I miss you during the day,” Yunjin mumbled as she was unable to get enough of Y/n now that she felt like she somewhat had her back. Her hands held onto the girl’s waist whose fingers trailed along her collarbones as they laid on their sides while looking at each other. 

“Me too,” it had always been a problem, but no matter what they tried to do their arrogance got in the way. The other’s schedule had to sound more important than the others even if it was just about replying to texts a little too late. 

Yunjin smiled, her eyes trailing over every feature on Y/n’s face, her gaze tender enough to feel like it was caressing the younger’s face. It wasn’t enough though, she loved feeling Y/n’s skin under her fingertips, the way it reacted like water to raindrops, letting her sink in and become part of her. Her fingers ran over Y/n’s cheek before brushing hair strands behind her ear.

“What did you miss the most?” Y/n questioned and Yunjin let out a breathless chuckle. 

The redhead propped herself up on her elbow and Y/n stared up at her, laying under the gaze of eyes that held her reflection like water. The girl cupped the feline under her jaw and leaned down, her lips tenderly falling against Y/n’s, pecking them with lingering feelings that never washed away as they were the wet sand at the bottom that would always be there. 

“The way you make me feel like I’m listening to Pink Floyd, it’s like drowning in another world from how psychedelic it feels…It feels unreal with you, Y/n.”

Y/n was sure that there would be waves around her if she were to be in actual water right now from how Yunjin’s words made her heart beat faster and harder. She was the oxygen in a place where there was none such as the bottom of a deep blue ocean of feelings that could be suffocating.

“What songs?” 

“‘Hey You’ and ‘Breathe’.” 

“Of course.” 

Y/n giggled and pushed Yunjin over before straddling her, the covers falling off their bodies and resting behind them. The girl couldn’t help but run her hands over Y/n’s body and feel the skin against hers. She trailed along her waist up and down, feeling the outline of the girl's ribs, feeling each reaction, each nerve that let Y/n know how good Yunjin made her feel. 

“I also missed you just this way, when it’s just us and no one else, especially naked.” 

There truly was nothing greater as Y/n leaned down and kissed Yunjin, closing her eyes and letting the current pull her further down. It felt too good, the cold water against warm skin was soothing, and the colours that would break through the surface, the reflection of the sun during the day and the moon at night. Those things that looked so beautiful, brought sentimental memories, that was what their love felt like. 

Their heads tilted, Y/n parted her lips and let Yunjin press her tongue against hers. It was languid with notes of desire and longing because they had yet to get enough since they started to see each other again. After every time apart, they only grew stronger feelings for each other. The only witness of their love right now were the silent raindrops falling down the window. With passion they tangled with each other, the heat growing as soft sounds started to occupy the room. 

“Fuck–” Yunjin breathed out, her hand tangling itself in the feline’s hair at the back of her head, pulling her back slightly as her lungs burned from how there was no air underwater. She tried to gasp for it, but they always stole every little bit of oxygen around each other. “I missed having you right here,” her voice was almost withering from how much her chest was already heaving, looking Y/n right in the eye as their breaths brushed against their lips. Right here meant in the confines of a safe space that was more than their arms, a room where they had spent countless nights talking, crying, shouting, loving, hating, and sinking. 

The walls were engraved with their love. 

“I know–” Y/n replied, fully aware that the girl had missed her and missed engraving their names on any space left on these walls. She pecked Yunjin’s lips, the girl trying to chase after them by raising her head but she didn’t get the chance. “I missed being right here with you.” Y/n’s walls were witness to those words, knowing how many nights she’d spent crying over the emptiness she felt of not having heavy waves wash over her and drag her into the warmth of Yunjin. 

It didn’t work to be apart. 

Yunjin dropped her head back down as Y/n started to pour her kisses over her skin, it was like a shower of sin, but it was also her salvation as it healed just as much as it scarred. The girl kissed Yunjin’s neck, softly moving her lips, trailing them along her pulsating veins while wetting them with her tongue. The older one hummed at the tender kisses that Y/n left on her skin, making her close her eyes to truly dwell on the feeling.

She reached Yunjin’s collarbones, it was almost like walking carelessly into things the way Y/n sucked on her skin and left marks along her collarbones, gracing her with art made from love and passion. Her hands were soothing over Yunjin’s shoulders, the skin was like powder from how soft it felt while she kissed further down. The girl under her was heaving for breath from how good it felt to be covered with Y/n’s kisses who went down her body, glancing up to see Yunjin looking down at her expectantly with her wet lips parted in anticipation. 

Y/n’s tongue came out, licking a stripe up Yunjin’s stomach that sucked in from the feeling, eyes connected through the blur that everything became so deep under and in the emotions. There was a twinkle in Yunjin’s eyes, a pleading one as she pushed herself up with Y/n in her lap. Her hand pushed back the silky hair as she kissed her lips before kissing along her cheek and over to Y/n’s ear.

“Be good and take me into your mouth, Y/n.” It was somewhere between a request and a soft command. Fingers ran over the girl’s spine down to her ass before Yunjin gripped it, her lips sucking right where Y/n’s pulse point was, feeling the sigh that the feline let out right by her ear. 

She manoeuvred them around in the bed until she sat at the edge. With fluidity Y/n crawled down Yunjin’s lap, finding herself between her legs while looking up at the ginger who licked her lips. Her eyes were glued to Y/n, never missing a second of the girl whenever they were with each other.

A shaky breath fell from between Yunjin’s lips when Y/n wrapped her hand around her semi-hard cock. The minx bit her lower lip slowly pumping the thick member that was scalding in her hand, her tongue stuck out, looking up through her lashes for approval that she always got through Yunjin’s eyes no matter what they were doing. A deep hum escaped Yunjin at the way Y/n licked along her tip, tongue running over the slit and collecting the leaking salty pre-cum. 

“Use your mouth well, angel so I can love you good after.” Her voice was thick with need, gruffly, her hand coming into Y/n’s hair, pushing it away from her face and holding it back for her. For a split second her eyes glance at the window, eyes falling on Y/n’s silhouette on the floor, looking like a real feline with her perfect ridges as she was on the floor on her knees. Y/n’s silhouette would always stay behind, it would always swim in Yunjin’s mind, moving gracefully and making the ginger drown in her. 

Y/n pumped up one last time, more precum slowly oozed from the slit on the pinkish tip and she parted her lips. Her eyes closed at the approving hum that came from Yunjin when she started to circle with her tongue, taking in inch by inch into her mouth before suckling back up, her hand stroking the rest.

The movement was enough to make Yunjin’s breathing grow heavier, occupying the room together with the wet sounds of Y/n’s mouth messily working along her length. “Such a good and messy doll.” The praises spilled through her mouth the same way spit ran down Y/n’s chin. The younger moved her hand down, cupping the pair of balls that were hard and heavy with cum in her palm. 

The grip on her hair tightened, and faint moans started to spill from Yunjin’s mouth at the warm mouth that worked her length. She leaned back against her palm while looking down at Y/n through hooded eyes. The girl bobbed her head, stroking her cock while hollowing her cheeks, the suction making the ginger roll her eyes back and whine at how good it felt. 

“So good, baby doll.” She breathed out, and her hand slowly pushed Y/n further down her cock as the pleasure was overwhelming her senses. It made her toes curl when she hit the back of Y/n’s throat without the girl gagging, her balls getting toyed with in the gentle hand. Tongue trailing over the bulging vein, circling her tip and showering it with the most attention as it was sensitive.  

The minx of a girl pulled away to catch her breath, her hand worked along the throbbing cock, her tongue licking at the tip and down the base. The work was sloppy just the way Yunjin loved it as only Y/n could make her head get light and stomach tie knots so tight that when they snapped she went numb. 

Y/n took her cock back into her mouth, tongue flat against the thick vein that was pulsating, hot in her mouth. The minx moaned, opening her throat for Yunjin to deep-throat her cock. It was enough to elicit a whimper from the ginger who tightened her grip on Y/n even more. It made her hold the girl down, Y/n’s nose tickling her pelvis for a second. She pulled back, sucking hard, making the other get dizzy at how good it felt and she pulled away, quickly going back down. 

Y/n looked up through her lashes at Yunjin who was now letting moans spill from her mouth without any resistance, but she tried to keep them low enough to not get in trouble. The girl wasn’t stopping and the knot was starting to tear to snap at last which Y/n was able to tell by how Yunjin’s breathing got deeper, her moans turning breathy and her balls tightening in Y/n’s hand. 

“Close ‘m so close.” She gasped, her body convulsing as her eyes closed and a deep frown covered her eyebrows, pushing Y/n’s head down with her thighs trembling. Breathless sounds fell from her mouth. The tip twitched in Y/n’s mouth, hips stuttering and cum shot in thick ropes down her throat, the salty taste barely managing to linger on her tongue as she swallowed down everything right away. The suction made Yunjin groan and Y/n slowly pulled away as the grip on her hair loosened.

“So perfect and so good for me,” the ginger mumbled as Y/n used one of the discarded shirts on the floor and wiped her mouth before Yunjin pulled her up to her feet. The girl stood between her legs, their fingers hooked and she guided Y/n back into her lap. Her hand reached to Y/n’s face, cupping her cheek and using her thumb to run over her wet lips. “You’re the prettiest and best girl I’ve had in my life.” She pecked Y/n’s lips with that and the girl shook her head with a small smile. 

“Don’t say that.” It warmed her too much and then hurt twice as much when she became the prettiest and most hated girl she’s ever had in her life. 

“Why not? It’s the truth.” 

“Just don’t, you have so many other women in your life you should put first.” Y/n refused to believe again that Yunjin would ever even consider putting her first. That was why she knew better than to say those words herself to the ginger, knowing that she would never be able to put Yunjin first either. That had always been a problem and that had always been a reason to give up and try again because what if?

The longer she stared at Yunjin’s gazing like star eyes that were sparkling the harder it got to say no to being her perfect, pretty, and best girl. The easier it got to accept the fact that within a few months, she would be pretty, but far from perfect and best. 

“I only want to put you first because I have you right here.”

“Don’t be selfish when it comes to me.” 

Yunjin chuckled, but maybe she was aware that Y/n would never truly belong to her and she would never truly belong to Y/n. They belonged to the hungry sharks that swam past their sinking bodies, trashing them and disturbing the peace that they felt in drowning, but they weren’t allowed to die in peace when it came to their love. 

Words made moments more memorable at times, but actions made them bearable and so Y/n leaned in and kissed the older girl. It felt right to be more than sinking stars and be able to be hungry sharks for each other. Yunjin’s hands gripped onto the girl's ass, fingertips digging into the lissom flesh while pulling Y/n’s smaller body closer to her. 

Among a sea where they were prey, they were also predators, but only to each other. That carnal desire struck as they wanted to dig into each other’s skin and colour the ocean red with love. Their flesh was tender for each other, unlike the tough exterior that they had on for everyone else. It made it so much easier to devour and dwell in as it tasted of greedy passion that was only reserved for the other. 

Y/n moaned and gasped into Yunjin’s mouth, their tongues tangling and sucking each other in. Nails scratched along the side of Yunjin’s neck while another worked her semi-hard length back to life. It got past a stage of just love and went to a stage that mixed with desires stronger than love, more dangerous because it hurt much more after. 

They pulled away to move onto the middle of the bed again and Y/n pushed Yunjin down, getting on top of the older. She grabbed hold of her hard cock that was throbbing in her hold, the heat between her legs strong as the feline ached for release. Yunjin watched Y/n lift her hips, her eyes falling on the girl’s slick tiny cunt and her stomach flexed as the younger ran her bulbous tip through her folds. 

Y/n bit her tongue and guided the tip to her entrance as the other girl held onto her hips to provide her more support. It made her groan at the familiar tightness she slowly got engulfed in while Y/n let out a faint gasp at the painful stretch. “Oh fuck.” The feline whimpered while slowly sinking and being filled up by the thickness and length that entered her raw. 

“You can take it, you’re doing so well, doll.” Yunjin encouraged, her hands caressing the girl’s hips while her eyes went between Y/n’s face which was somewhere between pleasure and pain and the girl’s pink little pussy that her cock was too big for. Her eyes eagerly watched as she disappeared inside the girl, splitting her folds while being slowly sucked into such tightness that she had to try extra hard to not reach her peak right away. “My pretty girl.” She continued, the praises easing Y/n’s mind from the uncomfortable feeling as she, at last, eased Yunjin's cock fully inside her while heaving for air that she had held in. 

She pulled Y/n down to kiss away the shaky breath that left her lips, waiting for the girl on top to start and set the pace to not accidentally hurt her. “I love you,” she whispered against her lips, her palm caressing the side of Y/n’s neck while her other hand gripped onto the girl’s ass who slowly moved her hips back and forth. Their lips came back together in a wet kiss with desires that were difficult to hold back. “So much, love you so much.” Her words weren’t falling deaf, they were digging their way into flesh and Y/n’s heart after not hearing them for two months. 

Y/n’s forehead rested against Yunjin’s, her hair falling around them, covering everything, and nothing from the surface ever went below except them. Her panting breaths mixed with Yunjin’s breaths who moved her hand from Y/n’s neck to push back some of her hair. 

“You don’t hate me, do you?” The words couldn’t help but intrude in this moment but they were still lingering inside her, swimming in a pool of all the things Yunjin had ever said to her. The sweet things could never win against the small portion of words that left her insecure in deep waters where security was the only thing that could keep her alive. 

“I could never hate you.” Only in the moment was she capable of hate and Y/n knew it because the feline for a second hated Yunjin for lying once again, for making yet another promise she would break. 

“I love you, Jen.” She pecked her lips after, sealing them for the moment. 

Y/n pulled back with her words, the discomfort not being as prominent as her walls adjusted to the dick that was a big fit for her, being smaller than her ex-girlfriend when it came to proportion. The bulge was evidence of the situation as Y/n’s nails dug into Yunjin’s stomach for support.

She raised her hips, rolling them back down with a gasp and repeating the movements, each time coming down with a new ferocity as they were somewhere between expressing their deep love and taking out the leftover anger at the bottom of the bottle, drop by drop falling from the tip and mixing with everything else they had ever spilled. 

“Fuck, Y/n, you’re doing so good taking and riding me,” her hand ran up and cupped one of the girl's breasts, fitting it in her palm with ease and groping at it. Feeling over her body to take in the curves she knew she would be able to draw with her eyes closed. Every little detail of Y/n’s body, Yunjin knew and loved. 

The sopping sounds started to occupy the room, the girl’s moans, whines, and whimpers grew louder and mixed with Yunjin’s heavy breaths and grunts. She could feel every inch of the girl inside her, the way her cock twitched every time she clasped around her more and let out sounds. The stretch felt painful, but in a good way, knowing that Yunjin was too big for her and would always perfectly crush her smaller body until she was trembling. They both loved the feeling, Y/n loved how full she felt with Yunjin and Yunjin loved how she overfilled the smaller girl, how Y/n’s stomach bulged and how tight her pussy was and how she always tried her best to take everything. 

It was hard to prevent and so Yunjin started to meet the girl’s thrust, their skin slapping against each other echoing in the room and bouncing off the walls with all the other sounds. Her fingers played with the girl’s hard nipple, fondling her breast while getting lost in the strong current of feelings and emotions that dragged her. Her eyes stuck on Y/n’s skin which was flawless and perfect, the moonlight casting its light on her as it always complimented her the best. Her cock dragged along the clasping walls, making the younger’s thighs tense up, thrusting and hitting the spots just for Y/n.

“Feels good, I love how you touch me,” Y/n whined, her hands holding onto Yunjin’s tense thighs that flexed with each thrust. 

“You look so fucking good, Y/n–you take my dick so well, doll.” She huffed at the feeling of Y/n’s wet cunt who threw her head back while increasing her pace to a deeper one. Her clit was throbbing and her walls pulsating around the scalding dick, her ass colliding with Yunjin’s thighs each time she went down, gyrating her hips in a perfect rhythm that was making her and the older girl’s back arch. 

“I need more, Jen, please.” Y/n whimpered, their bodies moving like waves that perfectly collided with the shore, but it wasn’t enough for the girl. She needed more and Yunjin could provide more. She needed the waves to collide with sharp tone ruins that made the water splash everywhere. Yunjin always knew when to give just enough and when to give more than enough and make everything overflow. They knew how to sink and go down together. 

She gripped hold of Y/n’s hips, stopping the girl, their eyes landed on each other as they were both heaving for breath at how intense it felt. It made Y/n hold back a whimper when she moved off of Yunjin with the older one manhandling her to lay down on the bed. The sheets were cold under her warm body, the two covered in a faint sheen of sweat and her body with ease got pinned under the other. 

“How much do you want it, pretty?” Yunjin questioned as she lay down between the girl’s legs. Her cock rested heavily against Y/n’s thigh, her arms trapping Y/n in her bubble of air as they were on each side of her head. The strands of hair tickled Y/n’s prominent collarbones who could feel the heat radiate off of Yunjin and onto her body, the scent getting much stronger with how they were steaming and so close to one another. Body against body with nothing in between. 

“There’s nothing I want more–nothing more than you.” Y/n breathed out, their lips mingling and falling into a dance at last as they swallowed each other whole once more. One dance wasn’t enough, nothing would ever be enough. The ginger brushed her tongue over Y/n’s lips, slipping it past them, pushing her slick muscle against Y/n’s, wanting to taste more than the tender flesh on the outside but on the inside too. Her one hand went down between them as she guided her throbbing tip towards Y/n’s desperate entrance. 

The intensity increased tenfold when she slowly pushed in, kissing Y/n with more need to steal her breath when she gasped into her mouth. The younger wrapped her arms around Yunjin’s back, making her exhale deeply through her nose at the nails that slowly started to dig into the skin. 

Teeth dug into Yunjin’s lower lip when she in one fluid motion pushed her length fully inside Y/n who dropped her head to the pillow after. Her fingers found the girl’s swollen clit as she started to move her hips, rolling them in and out, providing deep thrusts that made the bed squeak and Y/n hold on tighter to not move with each thrust into her small hole. 

Whiny moans high in pitch left the feline’s mouth at the pleasure that started to course much stronger within her. Her walls clenched around the cock that was pistoning in and out of her, the moans hard to contain or keep down. Nails dragged down the pale skin of Yunjin’s back that flexed with each deep thrust, being a reminder of their love for after they would be done because their love was always present. 

“I’m close, Jen, you feel too good.” 

“Fuck—I’m gonna fill you up, doll, give you everything. Fill your tiny little pussy with my cum.” 

She dug her teeth into Y/n’s shoulder, eyes closing at the sounds that were filling her ear. Her hips pulled away before slamming back into the tight confines. The sounds grew loud, a bit too loud, but everything grew muffled to them. Her skin slapped against Y/n’s, the sounds were lewd and wet, erotic, her balls colliding with Y/n who was mewling under her and clawing at her back as she was trying to get more even if it was too much already. Her tip occasionally hit the girl’s cervix as she managed to fill her to the brim. 

Y/n gasped, her back arching and chest pushing into Yunjin who raised her head to watch the girl’s face that contorted into a blissful pleasure with her lips parted, head thrown back and eyes closed. She bunched up the pillow cover in her fist, speeding up her pace and making Y/n cry out at the way her insides were being drilled by Yunjin. Her moans turned into gasps for air as her orgasm was starting to wash over her with her body growing in heat. 

“Fuck, fuck, Jen–” It was blinding the girl on top who continued going at a fast speed that made her breathing heavy and throaty, a primal need to dominate the girl and to claim her right back as hers. There was something enthralling about watching the way Y/n was getting filled by her, her body moving with each thrust while desperately trying to stay in place despite not going anywhere because Yunjin held her in place. 

Y/n’s body tensed up, arching and pulling Yunjin closer to her as her walls fluttered around the cock that was splitting her in the best way possible. All control floated away as the waves hit her one after another, her thighs quivering from the intense orgasm, her nails running along Yunjin’s back to hold on and have her close to her. It made her ears ring and eyes roll, only the older one being able to see the pleasure that Y/n went through.

The ginger stopped playing with the swollen and slick clit when Y/n jerked at the touch, burying her face into the crook of the feline’s neck after. The pussy around her cock pulsated with aftershocks and sent her so close to the edge. Her palm pressed against Y/n’s stomach, covering it with just one hand, being able to feel the bulge each time she thrust inside the girl and it was enough to send her mind into a frenzy, imagining how deep inside the smaller girl she was. How Y/n was taking her. 

She pulled out and stuffed her cock as deep as possible one last time, pressing down more onto Y/n’s lower belly as she moaned into her neck before biting down on the skin. Her breaths grew into a high pitch as she came, thick ropes of cum shooting out her tip and each splashing the smaller girl’s walls white as she could feel it all. 

Her arm gave out and Y/n huffed at the weight that landed on top of her body, still panting for air while trying to not get overwhelmed by the big dick and cum overflowing her small cunt. “God, I missed you and this.” She groaned, trying to get back the feeling in her legs. “You did so well for me, doll,” she mumbled, huffing for air while planting soft kisses over Y/n’s neck. 

“I can’t breathe, Jen,” Y/n winced.

Yunjin exhaled deeply and weakly rolled over, her chest heaving as it felt like she was being dragged down into the bed, sinking deeper than she had before while she stared at her ceiling that got further away and blurrier the further she sank. It didn’t feel right for a second as her body was humid with sweat with no warmth, but it was all fixed when Y/n moved her body and hugged around her waist, her head resting on her shoulder as she curled up to Yunjin’s body. 

Suddenly it felt right as they drowned together.

She reached for the duvet that was thrown aside on the bed and draped it over their lower bodies. Her arms wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders and she pulled the smaller girl closer to her as she hugged her to provide safety even where it felt like it was dangerous. They were chained together in a box filled with anchors that would make sure that they stayed down and with each other. 

It felt right even though something would always be wrong. 

“You’re mine, right?” She questioned, craning her neck to look at Y/n who raised her head the best she could from how she was entombed in Yunjin’s arms. 

“Always,” she whispered and closed her eyes at the lingering kiss that Yunjin left on her forehead. That was reassurance of how it was fine, it was home, but something would always be off, disturbing them because something would always be wrong with the fact that they were drowning in their home. 

“Can you say that one thing?” Yunjin asked, staring into the distance that her ceiling didn’t have, but her eyes imagined. 

Y/n hummed, confused about what she meant. 

Yunjin was waiting for reassurance of how it felt right and wrong at the same time. “About the fish.” She prompted, her hand coming into Y/n’s hair as she tenderly played with it, running her fingers through it and feeling the girl in her arms because she truly was there. Y/n’s tired voice mumbled the words that would drive them both to sleep in the warmth of water filling their lungs while also burning. 

“I’m like a fish that drowns, I’m at home in water, but something is wrong even though everything else feels right. I know that I would die if I wasn’t here. I know that this is my only home, but there will always be something wrong with the fact that I drown even when I’m at home.”

masterlist

[blughxreader]

one of the things i love the most about Platonic Yandere! Batfam is that they are slaves to your every whim and mood.

Like these guys stripped you of your autonomy, cut all access to the world, and forced you into a weird sister/child role, yet they STILL care more about how you feel about them than most anything else.

I'm just imagining you sitting in the living room, flanked on all sides by Batfam doing their own thing, and realizing that you have a leash on this entire collection of powerful men.

You don't have a hope of leaving or having a social life outside of them, but by god, you lord over this domain. Of course, you're ruling within a boundary set by Bruce, but anything you do inside of that goes.

Imagine that the day is going well—you’re feeling neutral (sitting cross armed, quiet, tolerating them sitting close but not touching) and the boys are all smiles.

But their joy is pissing you off. Why do they get to live happy lives while you’re stuck here, lonely and miserable? You tell Tim to fuck off when his knee brushes yours and silence falls over everyone. He flinches like he’s been shot and fumbles an apology. Your shitty mood ruined their day, and dinner that night is ate in tense silence.

They want you to be happy but they don’t know how to do it. So they watch for any indication that your mood is lightening, for when they can scoot closer and share a smile without being scolded.

Maybe you’ll receive a gift or some food to apologize for whatever small grievance they did to set you off. If it goes on for long enough, you’ll be called to Bruce’s study for a talk. But they can’t force you to smile. Your presence is all they can demand, and you hold that over their heads.

This revelation is so powerful it’s almost religious.

So you test it. When they do something you like? like back off just a millimeter? You treat them with kindness and laugh at something they say and the whole house has a heart attack. Tim has to excuse himself to cry and Dick and Jason shoot shots for courage. Damian and Bruce sit lock-jawed and teary eyed as they process your smile.

They try desperately to mimic what made you happy, but they always overstep again. They’re constantly giving and taking, hoping to wear you down. They dream of the day where you’ll sit in their laps and share inside jokes and tell them all your secrets. You control that reality, though, and you’ll give only when you damn-well please.

(Let’s not forget, however, that these men are some of the pettiest and most cunning fuckers on the continent. They’ll play you at your own game eventually.)

[valkyrieromanoff]

Hi! How are you? Just wanted to say I absolutely love your writing! ❤️❤️

I have kind of a weird request: I’m a psych student, and I’ve been studying disorders for a test, so now it feels like that’s all I can think about lol. I was wondering if you’d ever consider dipping into the DSM world and writing something about sexual dysfunctions?

No worries if it’s not your vibe—totally get it! Sending love either way 💕

🎀 Premature ejaculation 🎀

words: 923

a/n: Hello, sweetie!🥰 I absolutely adored your request—it really challenged me (in the best way, lol). I did a quick dive into the diagnostic criteria and tried to keep things light and fun 💕.

Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Had so much fun with this one ✨. Sending you all the love and kisses 😘❤️

Anakin couldn't quite explain how it had happened. One moment he was sitting in the Jedi Temple's dining hall, swallowing that horrible ration that looked more like sawdust, mentally complaining about how the food looked almost— if not worse— than the ones he had eaten as a child on Tatooine.

Then he found himself at the heart of a feast. Your Jedi robes were beneath your beautiful body as you lay on his bed, the bandages you had used to support your chest laying on the floor, your lovely breasts rising and falling with the movement of your breathing, which was accelerating under his eyes.

A mist of disbelief and yearning hazed Anakin's blue eyes. He couldn't believe how fortunate he was to have you so needy and willing for him.

"Kriffing, you're so beautiful," He gently said as he reached out to touch your nude body. Almost as if he was terrified of contaminating such a masterpiece with his humanity, his fingertips sought your smooth skin with care.

The sweet noises that escaped your lips were a magnanimous reward for the young padawan; his groin went crazy when he touched your tummy and your eyes closed, going all the way down to the curvature of your hips.

Your moist folds welcomed him like tongues of fire, warming his whole body as his fingers found your warm embrace. An erection appeared as his blood seemed to boil and pool in his cock.

Your fingertips brushed his trousers so softly that Anakin vowed he wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the way the force was so filled with you. It was overwhelming; he didn't even have to close his eyes to feel you everywhere, in every way, like the fireplace flames that are constantly there even though their intensity fluctuates.

Squeezing his eyes tight, Anakin tried to concentrate on what he was doing, on how your heat encircled his fingers like a velvet blanket and how your spongy walls held him like fire embers on dry straw, searing everything without mercy or rest.

Not that he wanted to stop; honestly, he had stopped wanting for a long time ago, You were a need; He needed you like the oxygen he breathed, just as plants need the sun to thrive and the oceans need the moon to deliver their tides.

Without you, nothing existed because you were everything. Anakin slid two fingers within you, encouraged by the graceful gasps that poured from your pink lips like divine tunes composed just for him.

He didn't know exactly what he was doing; he had never done anything like this before. Of course, like any teenager with hormones in full swing, especially padawans who are taught from an early age that they should not indulge their carnal desires, he had previously resolved that minor issue in his groin.

Whether it was touching himself in the shower, his hand clutching his cock under the water spray till he felt his release trickle down the drain with the foam, or thrusting his hips against the mattress, grinding his erect cock beneath his Jedi robes.

Anakin had already pictured what it would be like to touch you, to feel your body writhing above him or under him; it didn't matter as long as it was with you; the rest was a mere detail, irrelevant.

Reality, however, was far superior to his most vivid dreams; the way your pussy welcomed his fingers and squeezed them like quicksand caused his eyes to roll with the rush of ecstasy.He could cum right there; Anakin slid with such ease that he let out a low sigh as he twisted his fingers in and out of your moist folds.

As his orgasm struck him like an avalanche, he felt his legs sway, his hips stutter, a flashing white blurring his eyesight, and colorful stars flashing in his head. His brain was a heated, disorganized mass, and it took him a few seconds to process what had happened.

He had cum before he had done anything, without even taking off his clothing, and it was the damp sensation in his pants that jolted him back to reality. Just the sensation of you on his fingertips carried him to paradise, and since he had nothing to cling to, he let himself be pulled along."

"I'm sorry, I, I didn't mean to..." Anakin's blush rose on his neck and spread over his cheeks as he apologized profoundly.He felt so ashamed that he was unable to look you in the eyes. You smiled gently, your eyes holding a compassionate, kind light that made him release the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"It's okay, Ani," you assured him softly, your hand cupping his cheek affectionately, the heat of his embarrassment warming your skin. "We can try again if you want."

Anakin was still ashamed; it was an extremely awkward situation, embarrassing. imagine cumming before even having sex properly, in front of the girl he still liked. Kriffing.

Yet, he seemed to feel less insecure and doubtful than before; the warmth in your eyes and the assurance your grin transmitted were plenty.

"I'll be better next time," Anakin assured, his voice low but laced with dedication, confident that he would give you pleasure and transport you to paradise as effortlessly as you had pushed him.

"I know you will," you assured affably,a loving smile spreading over your pink lips. Anakin thought he could get lost as often as you did, and you would always find him.

[merbear25]

Hi. How are you? Can you please write a fic, Zoro x Fem Reader, where Zoro loves reader but doesn’t know/get that he’s in love. He’d do anything for her but he wonders if it’s love or what? Thank you so much. You’re amazing 💕

Hello! I'm hanging in there and hope you're doing well, too. Thank you for sending in a request. I hope you like it, lovely 💜💜

You were his friend, nothing more. He gave you a helping hand every now and then just like he did with the others. Giving you advice for combat was something he would give any of his friends. So what was it about you that got his heart racing and his palm sweaty? Brushing it off wasn’t doing any good, further piquing his curiosity.

CW: SFW, fem!reader, fluff, slow burn, mention of combat training, confession

The kind of love that sneaks up on you (Zoro)

In a world where only the strongest seemed to thrive, you were left no choice but to learn how to properly defend yourself. You were finding yourself in sticky situations more and more often, and despite Zoro always being there to save you, deep down the fear that one day he wouldn’t be able to grew. Guilt festered as you felt more like a burden. Even though no one made you feel like you were, you were clearly weaker than the rest. However, that was something you were determined to change.

One-on-one sessions with Zoro were spent working on your reflexes and general combat skills. It wasn’t necessary for you to become the strongest; merely keeping your head afloat and learning to use your enemies' advantages against them were skills you had set out to exercise.

“You gotta keep your eyes on me. Don’t look away.” The next swing he delivered was swift yet controlled, testing how good your intuition was.

Each move from him was countered with more confidence than the last. You nodded at his advice, keeping your head held high and not allowing yourself to stay cowering in the shadows anymore.

Zoro’s expression was stern, serious, and each push he gave you was carried out from a place of care, for letting you off “easy” would be an insult to your abilities. He believed in you, and your progress never went unnoticed.

Panting from exertion, you had reached your limit. The subtle shift in his demeanor was followed by him retracting his next move. He sighed, “Let’s stop here for today.”

“What? Why? I can keep going!”

“It’s not weak to know your limits.” Wisdom was a quality of his that was often overlooked. Swallowing the tough pill, you knew arguing would be useless.

Watching your inner conflict was something that felt all too familiar. There was a tightness keeping his heart from beating freely as you stood there looking defeated. His mouth went dry and his gulps felt like wet cement caught in his throat. 

There’s no point in sulking was what he wanted to say, but he hesitated. It was true, so why couldn’t he form the words? They’d hurt you, perhaps deep down he knew that. However, you were sensible enough not to take it personally… weren’t you? The thought of bringing you to tears kept him locked in place. This uncertainty of how to approach you would settle on his chest every now and then, unexplainable and popping up at the oddest times.

“You should get cleaned up.” When your eyes met his once more, his breaths grew uneven. “You look a bit sweaty and would probably be more comfortable if you changed.” The subtle touch to your hair as you averted your gaze caused his cheeks to burn red. 

Should I have mentioned she looks sweaty? He mulled over the awkwardness now dispersing through the air when you left the room. The room felt hot all of the sudden. His brow furrowed and he crossed his arms in irritation. Images of you were there in his mind’s eye: your eagerness to improve, the devotion and passion that were evident when you fought, and that refusal to be forced into a box just because you were a woman. 

Such traits were admirable and honorable, parts of you which sent his heart racing in an uncontrollable state that not even meditation could calm sometimes. When you weren’t with him, he went looking for you, and when you were, he didn’t want you to leave. 

Did you feel the same? He wondered. Such a question made him antsy with anticipation. Uncertainty never deterred him from pushing forward in the past, but you were different. The reason why wasn’t clear, you just were.

A long slightly agitated sigh left him. Irritation not tied to you specifically but to the emotional state he found himself in. Pulling, tugging, grasping: he could feel the discomfort clawing away at him. His fingers dug into his biceps while he fought off the meddlesome thoughts to confront you in vain. Shaking slightly, he couldn’t take it. 

Without a plan, his feet carried him to you, which left him at loss for words when you turned towards him. The face that kept him in a chokehold was washed with concern given he appeared to be hyperventilating.

“Are you alright?” Gentle, caring, selfless: you had no idea how much your tone affected him.

“Yeah, I just came here to say…” A fear he never thought would trouble his life reared its ugly head time and time again. “That I hope our last training session wasn’t too much for you.”

“Is that really all you wanted to tell me?”

The pounding in his chest was nearly agonizing, but what was he to do? Ignoring the way he felt about you was only making this pain worse, taking the plunge into the unknown seemed like the only option to lift this weight off his shoulders.

“No, but I’m not sure how to articulate this exactly.” He gestured to the state of him—riddled with nerves that were beyond his understanding. There was no explanation needed, though.

“I know how you feel.” Your smile gave away your own struggle with trying to comprehend how he affected you. “It’s kind of scary,” you added with a chuckle.

“It’s… yeah, scary,” he breathed. A flush of red spread across his face when you stepped closer. Your eyes held such a depth of emotion towards him. His heart began racing again, but this time was different. Instead of uncertainty, elation pounded against his chest. When you wrapped your arms around him, the hesitation from him wasn’t out of figuring out what he should do, but instead disbelief.

Fear had never left him shaken before. Knowing that you not only understood but also returned his feelings made that unease deep within fade, and the longer you held onto each other, the more he distanced himself from it.

[mymoodwriting]

3.6k, yandere, love at first sight, slow romance, ghosting, trauma, mentions of hallucinations, depression, self-destructive thoughts, choking, kidnapping, imprisonment (@starillusion13)

You stirred up my emotions like the wind then disappeared irresponsibly…

Jeongin took in a breath as he woke up, finding himself alone on the mattress in his studio. He stared at the empty space next thing to him, his hands tracing over the parts where another warm body should be. Despite all the time that had passed, he was still haunted by the memories of back then. When he was barely starting out as an artist, before his name was known, he had fallen in love with a woman who  would become his muse. He met her at a small art exhibition for amateur artists. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a few paintings and sculptures on display with no names attached, allowing the artist to mingle with others and remain anonymous.

He had been admiring a painting when someone came up next to him. They commented on the beautiful mixture of color and the sense of fiery passion displayed. He agreed and then he turned to look at the person keeping him company. It all happened in an instance. He met her eyes and the world seemed to fade away. He saw beauty, not just in the physical sense but in the soul. Those eyes were so full of wonder and curiosity, he wanted nothing more than to know the world as she did. For the rest of the evening he stuck with her, talking about the art, and then talking about life. Together they left the event, getting food and just keeping each other company. Jeongin eventually invited her back to his place, to his messy studio, not wanting the night to end just yet.

“Are you an artist as well?

“Me? Oh no, my family would kill me if they saw me pick up a paintbrush. Quite unfair, I know, but I can get by just admiring art for now. You’re pretty good, you know.”

“I’m nothing great.”

“Not yet, but one you will be.”

“You think so?”

“I see talent, I see beauty, in all the things you have here.��

“Thanks… would… would you like to try?”

“Try? What do you mean?”

“I have all kinds of supplies, and empty canvases… would you like to paint something?”

“… really? You’d… I’ll pay you back for everything.”

“You don’t have to. I’d just really like to see what you would do with a paintbrush in hand.”

“Me too.”

Jeongin was more than happy to provide. To give her everything so she could create, so he could see how she saw the world. He remembers how shy and nervous she was, how he had to hold her hand and guide her along the canvas to create her first brush stroke. Little by little she moved on her own, happily mixing and painting her own desires. Jeongin merely watched, encouraging her and helping where he could. He loved it. He knew there was such beauty in creation, and now he could see the beauty in watching someone else create. That night may have been when they first met, but it was the beginning of something more.

They met up more and more often afterwards, at all hours of the day. The two would paint and sculpt and make all kinds of messes together. There was a rainbow of color everywhere, and of course they wound up covered in paint every now and then too. It was a beautiful friendship, one that was blossoming into something greater. Jeongin still remembered that wonderful evening. The two of them on opposite ends of a coffee table, drawing a still life. He’d find himself just staring at her sometimes, getting caught every little while too. That was the first time he realized he wanted more than just a friend.

After a moment he got up and went over to her, wanting to see her progress. Little by little he leaned in closer under the guise of wanting to help. His hand was on hers once more, guiding her brush strokes, his face inching closer to hers. A cosmic force bringing them together. Then it happened, their lips met, she kissed him and the paintbrush clattered against the floor. It started off soft, the two exploring and testing the boundaries, but it wasn’t long before either party realized this is what they wanted. It was crude, the plain mattress Jeongin had in his studio, but it was all they needed for this night of passion. They’d keep each other warm, and they very much did so.

That night was the first of many spent on that mattress, and it wasn’t always sex. Just lying together, side by side and existing with one another was enough. Jeongin lived for these moments, the quiet ones where he could just gaze upon the most beautiful thing in the world. He couldn’t really pinpoint when she became his muse, when she became everything, but he could feel that truth when he watched her. Perhaps it was love at first sight. His inspiration all came from her. All he wanted to do was create and create and show it all to her, only for her, just for her. She deserved it all and so much more. Every moment together was one he cherished. He might not become a famous artist one day, but being her favorite artist was enough.

“Jeongin.”

“Hm?”

“What are you gonna submit for the festival?”

“I don’t know… whichever you like best.”

“You should pick one, the one you want to show the world the most, the one you’re most proud of.”

“If you like it, I’m proud of it, and if you see it, then my whole world has seen it, I don’t need anyone else to praise me.”

“Come on, you’re super talented and can totally rise to fame.”

“Perhaps…”

“No, not, perhaps, you will, I know it. You’re really good with a paintbrush and everything else, you’ll be famous one day for sure.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Promise me.”

“Huh?”

“Promise me you’ll never give up on your art. You have to be a star someday.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so, now pinky promise.”

“Okay. I promise I’ll be famous.”

“No, no, you have to promise you’ll never stop making art. Everything else will come as long as you promise me this.”

“Very well, I promise I won’t ever give up on my art.”

Just as she said, the two pinky promised, sealing it with a kiss. He did see his art in a new light after that, wanting to live up to her expectations. It was hard to see the good in his pieces sometimes, but he trusted her, and she trusted him. Yet, in the end, she wasn’t there. The night before a big exhibition they had been together, but come morning he was alone. He thought he’d get a message later explaining what happened, but it never came. He went to the exhibition alone. All night long he received praise, but none of it was from the person he wanted. He sent messages when it was all over, he tried calling, but nothing seemed to be getting through.

As the sun began to rise, signalling the end of the night, he began to realize it was the end of something else too. She was gone without a trace. No message, no explanation, she just disappeared into thin air. Jeongin had her name, a number, and so many memories, but they were all useless. Whoever she was, wherever she was, he could not find her. He tried, for the longest of times, but he found nothing. So many nights were spent in agony, in heartache, in confusion. He couldn’t understand what had happened, what he had done, where it all went wrong. All he could do was suffer in the unknown. He stayed locked up in his studio, hoping she’d come back, but days turned into weeks. He couldn’t eat or sleep, he’d just wait.

Jeongin couldn’t find much strength in anything, especially in his art. He tried to keep going, but it all fell apart. He saw no point in creating his art if she wasn’t there anymore. Then there was a knock at his place. Joy and hope overtook him, only to open the door and find a stranger. Apparently someone had really liked his art and wanted to be his benefactor, allowing him to create to his heart’s content. Initially he refused, honestly planning to burn it all, but in the midst of destruction he stopped, stumbling upon your first ever painting. He held it with shaky hands and then he remembered his promise. 

“… promise me you’ll never give up on your art…”

No matter what, he had to keep creating, and everything else would come to him. So he did just that. He accepted the benefactor, meeting them and getting himself back together. Soon enough his name was known, his art was sold at high prices, and he was a star. Truth was his promise wasn’t the only reason he continued his art. What really kept him going was the goal of finding his muse again. If his name was known, if his face was everywhere, surely she would know he kept his word, and surely he’d meet her again. His desire translated into his art, some of his most famous pieces, paintings or sculptures, were that of a beautiful woman. Many were intrigued by his talent there, and the emotions he conveyed. One way or another every interview asked about her, and why he created her the way he did.

“The woman in your works, the one basically dubbed Ms. Yang, why don’t we ever see her face?”

“She’s too beautiful for the world.”

Jeongin always gave vague answers, teasing the interviewer, but he could never tell the truth. He had so many memories with his muse, yet, he could not remember their face. After all this time, that precious detail had faded from his mind, and sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder if it had all been some kind of dream or hallucination. He spent hours upon hours alone in his studio where he would hear faint whispers and catch the movement of a woman in the corner of his eyes. He tried so desperately to hold on to those precious memories that were turning to sand. He drew her to remember her, but he couldn’t draw her face. He didn’t remember it anymore, and he feared that if she ever came back he would not recognize her.

His work, Ms. Yang, was his attempt to hold on to the memories, even if he was missing something so important. When he wasn’t working he would lounge around the studio, wanting to remember, wanting to see her again as she was. Despite all the money he still worked from the same place, not wanting to go somewhere she might not be able to find him. So the mattress he laid upon was the same one he had shared with her. The brushes he used were ones she had touched. His heart, broken pieces and all, belonged to her. Even if he struggled to maintain his sanity at times, he still held on to hope. The day would come when he’d find her again, and he would never let go.

✷

“When can I leave?”

“Jeongin, please, this is a charity event. You donated some of your pieces to be auctioned off.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you did. So it’s important you’re here.”

“For how much longer?”

“Jeongin!”

“If you don’t give me a suitable answer then I’ll leave now.”

“Fine. Just stay until after the auction. You should at least stick around to greet the new owners of your artwork.”

“I suppose.”

“If you disappear before then, I swear, Jeongin.”

“I’ll stick around as you said, you have my word.”

Jeongin wasn’t too big on public appearances. He rather be in his studio working, where his muse was, even if it was more of a haunting. Still, his manager and multiple benefactors always urged him to make public appearances at such events. For the sake of his reputation and what not he had to indulge such requests every now and then. His name was known, but his face not as much. That was greatly apparent at gatherings like this. He was merely a guest mingling around the wealthy class. It worked in his favor as he could just walk around and keep to himself. The downside was being invisible. So accidentally bumping into someone was bound to happen, and he nearly spilled his drink.

“Gosh, I’m so sorry I didn’t-”

Jeongin accidentally bumped into someone, immediately apologizing. Although when he came face to face with the individual his world stopped. The glass in his hand dropped to the floor, shattering on impact. 

“Y/n…”

“Jeongin…?”

Jeongin reached out to cup your face in both hands, staring with wide eyes in disbelief. You only managed a half step back before he was caressing your face, tears stinging his eyes.

“Y/n… is it really you… you’re real…”

“Uh… Jeongin… you… you’re the famous artist, right?”

Those words snapped Jeongin out of his trance, allowing you to slip out of his grasp.

“You… you don’t remember… me…?”

“I don’t think we’ve met before…”

“Y/n, it’s me, Jeongin, we-”

“Y/n, are you okay!”

Someone else from the crowd around approached, coming to your side and pulling you back. They were concerned for your safety over the broken glass on the floor. Jeongin didn’t recognize this stranger, but he didn’t take kindly to them touching his things.

“Who are you!?”

“Excuse me? I should be asking you that, now apologize.”

“For what?”

“Brother, please.” You interrupted. “I’m alright, there’s nothing to apologize for. This is Jeongin, the artist. We just accidently ran into one another.”

“Ah, well, mother was looking for you, let’s go.”

“Wait, y/n.” Jeongin quickly stepped forward and grabbed your arm. “What happened? Why did you leave? You owe me an explanation!”

“I… I think you’re mistaken… I don’t-”

“Let’s go, y/n.”

Your brother pulled you away from Jeongin, ushering you away and blocking you from looking back. You felt nervous, your heart pounding in your chest, but there was no point freaking out now. Jeongin watched you disappear into the crowd, his hands turning to fists. It was you, he knew it in his soul, yet once again you left him. He needed answers, and he was going to get them one way or another.

✷

Jeongin went off to find his manager, pulling them away from whatever conversation they were having and going up to the second floor, looking down on the crowd. His manager questioned his actions, but then Jeongin found you, pointing you out.

“Who is she?”

“Huh? Y/n? She’s the daughter of a wealthy family, actually, her family are the ones hosting this charity event.”

“Why didn’t I know this?”

“I sent you the information, I guess you didn’t bother looking it over.”

“Let’s go, I should introduce myself.”

“Oh no, no, no, I already spoke with them on your behalf. Besides, they really didn’t seem to care…”

“What?”

“I know they invited you and requested some of your works, but they don’t seem to care much for the arts. They didn’t ask about you and they didn’t seem eager to meet you, so let’s not bother them.”

“What’s their problem?”

“I don’t know. Rumor is the family has a bit of disdain for artists. They find the profession to be ridiculous at times, especially for abstract work.”

“Oh…”

“…my family would kill me if they saw me pick up a paintbrush…”

Things started to fall into place for Jeongin, and he realized he was upset with the wrong person. He would not let this slide. Besides, he had a promise to keep. For the rest of the evening Jeongin kept his distance, but made sure to keep you in his sights. He was waiting for his moment. When the auction started everyone was seated and the lights were dimmed. He quickly devised a plan and then watched it all unfold. A beautiful woman like you from a prestigious family needed to maintain a reputation. 

So if someone accidentally spilled their drink on your dress, needing to clean up and change was mandatory. Jeongin watched you discreetly excuse yourself from your family table and move away. He followed, seeing you go into the restroom. He silently entered as well, not catching your attention as you were distracted. He quickly looked around, seeing that no one else was present, so he locked the door. That sound caught your attention.

“Who’s there?”

“Y/n…”

Jeongin stepped into view, a smile on his face as he was glad to be alone with you. In the moment nothing could stand between you. He eagerly approached and pulled you into a desperate kiss, the action sparking so many past memories.

“Jeong… Jeongin… Jeongin, get off!”

You shoved Jeongin away from you, wiping your lips to get him off. You glanced at the mirror, seeing you need to redo your makeup, but what you were drawn to was Jeongin’s upset face. He felt so betrayed, and so confused.

“What happened… you just left me!”

“Jeongin, I-”

“Tell me why you left!? All this time I thought maybe you were just some hallucination, a fantasy, and then you appeared before me… why did you leave?”

“Jeongin, it’s complicated. Things-”

“It was your family, wasn’t it?”

“What?”

“They don’t like the arts, and when they found you dating an amateur artist… they took you away from me…”

“Jeongin… I’m sorry…”

“Why couldn’t you… at least send a message… there was no goodbye… you just disappeared…”

“I’m sorry… I didn’t want to go but… when my parents found who I was with… they gave me a choice… either I never see you again… or they’d destroy you… I wasn’t going to clip your wings before you could fly… I’m so sorry…”

As Jeongin processed your words he began to laugh. All this time he thought it was him, that he had done something or perhaps he was crazy all along. Now you were telling him that you ran away to protect him. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s all meaningless!” Jeongin screamed. “Every painting, every sculpture, it means nothing without you! I would rather remain an unknown wannabe artist than lose you… but you never gave me that choice… you decided for me…”

“Look at you now. This is where you were always supposed to be.”

“No, no you were always supposed to be with me!”

“Jeongin-”

“Let’s go.”

“What?”

“You’re coming with me, we’re gonna make this right.”

“Jeongin, I can’t. I made a deal to-”

“Not with me! I’m not losing you again.”

“Jeongin-”

Next thing you knew Jeongin was on top of you again, kissing you passionately and pinning you against the wall. You fought back against him, and he didn’t take kindly to that. The moment you were free you tried to run, only for Jeongin to grab you from behind and wrap an arm around your neck, starting to choke you out. You clawed against his arm as you struggled to breathe, but he had no intention of letting you go.

“Sh, sh, sh, everything’s going to be okay.”

✷

You groaned as you regained consciousness, feeling an ache in your throat. As you opened your eyes you found yourself in a dim room. Things seemed unfamiliar, but then memories began to return. This was Jeongin’s studio. The same place you had spent countless days and nights with him. You now found yourself atop that plain mattress, soon discovering the chain around your leg.

“… jeongin…”

“You’re awake!”

Jeongin appeared from around a corner, happily coming to your side. He pulled you into a hug, holding you tight, as if he never intended to let go.

“Jeongin… what have you done…?”

“I brought you back where you belong, with me.”

“No… no, this… this isn’t… Jeongin, you have to let me go.”

“I’m not gonna do that.”

“Jeongin!”

“I’m not gonna lose you again!”

Jeongin shakily reached up to caress your cheek, his hand becoming steady when he felt your skin. Being in his studio with you, a part of him felt like he was still hallucinating. That at any moment you’d disappear again, which is why he had to chain you up, why he had to bring you here whether you agreed or not.

“I missed you so much.”

“I… I did too… Jeongin… we can’t do this…”

“I’m not asking.”

Jeongin leaned in to press a kiss against your lips. Soft and gentle at first, as if you’d become a ghost. Then he got more needy and desperate as his sense recognized you, recognized that you were real.

“You’re real, you’re real, you’re real.”

Jeongin repeated the same phrase as he kissed you, affirming it for himself and letting that fact consume him. After all this time he had you in his embrace once more. Deep down he knew what he had done was wrong, but he didn’t care for it. The only thing that mattered was you, having you, having his muse once more.

“I’ll take care of everything.” Jeongin stated. “All you have to do is be here with me.”

“This can’t work…”

“I’ll make it work. You’re my hallucination, ever since you left I’ve done nothing but dream of you, and now I’m making those dreams a reality. I love you, y/n, and I’m never letting you go.”

[yaymiyas]

Yandere!Jock Introduction

warning: yandere content, manipulation, foul language, boys being…boys!, gn reader

YANDERE!JOCK, whose very name gives you the ick. noah. ew. to his medium length golden hair that frames his face ever so tightly, to his tall frame that makes it almost impossible to miss him, and to especially his a million dollar smile that he wears like the latest fashion trend…why do you hate him again?

why do you avoid him like the spanish flu? not even you knew fully. you contemplate about this very topic for weeks, never really getting a straight answer from yourself. from every instants that you two have crossed paths, he has been nothing but forthcoming with you. nothing but sunshines and rainbows. nothing but absolutely perfect.

Yuck.

you never even wanted to actually know who he was. you and your friends may have joked about him and his friend group a few times, but having noah around you 24/7 was never really on your bucket list. he kind of made it his own mission to make his existence your business.

it all started last semester, when you were walking down the hall. chem and statistic books in one arm, and the other quietly struggling to keep your book bag up. with the current cards not being 1000% in your favor, you didn’t really have time to look up at where exactly you were going. but noah did. trying to maneuver through the busy halls isn’t the easiest task with two shoulders filled and a 6’2, linebacker breaking down your neck. you didnt even see him walking beside you for the last two door frames you seemingly passed. all that was on your mind was to successfully get to the exit quick enough so you can get to your car, but satan had other plans.

“i can help you if you dont mind”

not paying the voice any real attention, you flash a struggling smile trying to use that as a quiet sign to leave you alone. one thing you didn’t bank on, was for noah to not really take no as a real answer. or in this case, an annoyed smile. testing his luck, the taller male fixed your book bag strap releasing a whole 2 pounds of weight off of your shoulder. with this new found feeling, you hesitantly stopped in your tracks and paid the stranger a small glance. looking back was noah, smiling widely like he just won the latto.

YANDERE!JOCK who finds a way to comfort you at all the right times. a random rumor about you started to spread at the speed of light. nobody would tell you where it started, or why they believe it but all you know is that it is messing up your senior year. you wanted to end your high school career better than when you came in, because lets face it, your freshman and sophomore years were ass. not being of bullying or teasing, you just weren’t ready or willing to see that you were in a different environment. things are different from two years ago, well they were supposed to be.

you don’t know how you started crying or when, but you were outside of your ecom class tears soaking your binders. you never allowed the words of others to get to you, always brushed them off. this time around it was different. you were more affected than you thought you would be at things like this. sleeping with a teacher? the same ecom teacher who you deducted points for not citing correctly? the same one who didn’t learn your name until two weeks ago? such a baseless and so easy to be unproven, so why do so many people believe it?

the only reason you were crying outside of your class is because two girls called you a slut to your face. out loud. with grins on their face, like your misery was something that warmed their skin. it was all so disgusting but you couldn’t do anything was cry. why now? why you? why the very last semester of high school? why?

“i heard about what’s going on,”

noah slightly nudges your leg with his foot, forcing your attention solely on him. you didn’t want to look up.

no, you actually wanted to tell him to go away. why was the most annoying, condescending, passive aggressive person in front of you for. the universe and gods must hate you.

“you know,”

he started with a hint of glee in his voice. was this all a joke to him? was he enjoying your tears? was your agony entertainment for him? this sick bastard. if you could, you would pull him by his hair and yank him to the floor. a knee to the stomach wouldn’t do anything to a linebacker right?

“its okay if you slept with him…we all have our low points.”

wow.

oh.

you are a joke to him. his smile never wavered, no it actually got bigger. you turned your head a bit so both of you were staring into the others. his ocean blue eyes seemed to turn into a black hole, sucking you into it with no avail. this is sick. he is sick. was he the one to fucking tell everybody that? how did he even know about the rumor? why was he here? what does he want from you, and how far will he go to get it.

[mosaickiwi]

Your Actual First Kiss

@taeee0902 first kiss with redacted fdsjklfsdjalk

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

~Your Actual First Kiss~

Hiding their nerves behind his normal cool demeanor, [REDACTED] let you push them down on the couch and lay atop his chest. You’d been getting bolder in the past few weeks of dating and he was ecstatic about it. Still, he always played a passive role as you got comfortable, intent on having you set the pace for every encounter.

You fiddled with the collar of his shirt for a while, then shyly asked, “So… when can I kiss you?”

“Whenever y’want,” came their instant reply. He’d been patient for the moment you were ready, but felt just as delighted that you asked them.

“Right now?”

[REDACTED] blinked for a second, blood warming his cheeks as he muttered, “‘Course, Angel. It’d actually… be my first.”

“Really?” you asked innocently, smiling and leaning down over him.

They knew you were only teasing. He’d never even think of giving their first anything to anyone other than you. The man could feel the redness crawling further up to his ears as you leaned closer.

You suddenly pulled away and frowned to yourself. “I’m a little disappointed it’s not my first, though.”

His blue eyes widened a fraction, though the information wasn’t a surprise to them. Well aware of your past relationships—and all the ups and downs they entailed—he immediately knew which one you were thinking about. “It’s not?” they gently pried, testing the waters of how much you wanted to open up. 

“Yeah, it was a long time ago. The relationship was kind of… messy?” Your brow wrinkled and your tone turned a touch softer as you dwelt on it. “I wish it never happened, honestly.”

He couldn’t voice his own thoughts just yet. Their heart sank at the idea that they couldn’t go back and fix it—to make sure you’d never have such an ill gotten memory that made you upset, no matter how small. It’d be easier to give you a better experience now.

“Then it didn’t happen,” [REDACTED] decided aloud.

You raised your eyebrow and crossed your arms over his chest. “But it did?”

“If y’don’t like it, ‘didn’t happen,” he repeated. He absently brushed a hand through your hair, lingering at the nape of your neck. “Y’can try again with me, yeah?”

“Oh…” The frown on your face quickly melted away, replaced with the shy, devious smile you wore when you pushed him down earlier. “Yeah.”

Lips parted, breath caught in his throat, your ever-patient hacker waited as you leaned down once more to bring your lips close to theirs. He could hardly form a thought the moment they felt your breath, then your warm skin. 

It was everything he imagined it’d be. From how they felt your heart beating in an uneven rhythm with his, down to the way you tasted was just what he dreamed of each night. One kiss from his angel was worth the seemingly endless years of waiting.

As you pulled away—no doubt stealing what little breath remained in them—he followed after, the desperation he normally kept at bay rising to the surface as he held you close with their hand on your cheek. 

“H-how…” [REDACTED] laughed, caught off guard by the butterflies in his stomach that made them trip over their words. “How’s that? Better?”

You bit your lip and he noticed the sparkle in your eyes as you had to fight off your own butterflies. “Perfect, Ren,” you whispered.

[scuttlingcrab]

Okay, but have you considered how hot it would be for Raphael to use his claws to "undress" Tav? Or him dragging those claws all over Tav's body?

*Heavy breathing*

But of course, anon! This little drabble is very much sfw but still suggestive, tensions building as they're both on the verge of eruption, haha. My favourite kind of intimacy. *winks*

Summary: Raphael takes matters into his own hands when Tav proves to be a less than cooperative model for his latest painting. He will do anything to create a masterpiece, even if that means teasing his little mouse into submission.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

Practice Makes Perfect

(Image via savriea)

“Gods, this is torturous, Raphael. How much longer do you expect me to just sit here?”

“Until it’s flawless.” 

Raphael did not look up from the painting, but he could sense Tav was glaring at him, no doubt giving him another one of her infamous disgruntled looks.

“Frowning is unbecoming of you, little mouse.” Raphael continued, delicately dabbing a brush in some paint. He brought it to the half finished canvas but hesitated, unsure where to make his next mark. 

He instead sat back in his chair, humming a tune to himself as he compared the painting to the model before him. 

Tav sat a few feet away from Raphael, lounging on a plush leather chair. Per Raphael’s request, Tav wore a black dress with thin straps. The ensemble was form fitting, highlighting her voluptuous figure. Even whilst relaxed, her curves were strong and delicate, fierce but soft, like lush rolling hills sweeping through a vast countryside. 

She had her elbow on the arm rest, touching her chin with her thumb and index finger, the other hand placed on her lap. Her head was tilted slightly, in a way to suggest thoughtfulness, but Tav’s own visage added an extra layer of mystery to the pose. Her expression was stoic, yet her eyes were deeply alluring, teasing Raphael, as if to say, ‘come just a little closer, Devil, and I’ll tell you my deepest, darkest secrets.’

The chair was positioned on the balcony of Raphael’s private atelier, in his House of Hope. The skies of Avernus had been fickle that day. Midway through the painting session, a sea of smokey clouds floated into view, as if on purpose; viciously orchestrated by someone watching from the sidelines, hoping to rile Raphael. Something Haarlep would’ve loved to achieve, if they had any ambitions. The clouds brought with them mild winds and a torrential downpour of blood rain, completely souring the atmosphere Raphael had been working with. 

Tav sighed, rolling her shoulders. She interlaced her fingers, stretching her arms out wide in front of her like a cat pulled from slumber.

Raphael raised his fingers, threatening to snap her back into place if she continued to move about like a misbehaved child. He had reprimanded her twice already. Once when she refused to sit still after he had placed her in the current position; and the second, when she fell asleep, her body slumping and nearly sliding off the chair. 

Apparently it was too strenuous, too tortuous even, for a mere mortal to sit in one position for a few hours. Perhaps Raphael would consider testing this new type of punishment further on some of his future debtors? 

“Is there something more you wish to moan about? Or shall we proceed?”

Tav hesitated, adjusting her dress before reluctantly resuming the pose. 

“Surely you don’t expect to finish this painting in one day?” Tav grumbled. 

“You forget yourself, little mouse. We had an agreement and I never specified a duration.” Raphael paused, noticing a tiny blemish on the canvas that needed touching up. He dabbed the paintbrush across the spot a few times until it disappeared.

“And as I’m sure you’re well aware, time has no relevance in Avernus...”

Raphael shifted to the side so that his face was no longer obscured by the canvas, smirking at Tav.

The Devil had been enraptured by the little mouse the second he spotted her, stumbling from the Nautiloid ruins like a bumbling buffoon. In her own way, she climbed through those flames, like a phoenix from the ashes, igniting sparks within Raphael’s very being. She had been reborn, and she would rise to greater heights suiting his own motivations very soon.

Raphael re-focused his attention back to the painting, suddenly finding his ego deflating as he stared at the blasé first pass. It did not stir him the same way Tav tormented him with rampant desires; hideous mortal emotions he had strictly forbidden himself to feel, believing to have locked them away within the recesses of his infernal heart. And yet still, he found himself frantically gathering the pieces of his broken composure, haphazardly putting them back together after each rendezvous.

He was better than that and he damned well knew it.

This current piece, however, was proving to be more problematic than he imagined. Raphael had painted hundreds of portraits in the past; from famous Devils to mortals alike, and yet something was missing. It was void of any life or passion. In this portrait Tav was merely a facade, a poor initiation of the real thing before his own eyes. 

“What to do…” Raphael whispered. 

Perhaps it was the pose? Or could it be Tav herself? 

Raphael’s mind lingered on the last thought, noticing Tav was a bit stiff. In all their time together, she never quite shed that awkward part of her personality. Getting her to relax had proven, time and time again, to be more difficult than all his preparations to procure the Crown of Karsus. He did find that aspect of her endearing, no less; but she needed to loosen up, to become more comfortable in her own skin. 

There needed to be more spontaneity in this painting - that was it! In order to achieve greatness he needed to push himself further, and in turn, push his muse past her breaking point... 

Just as Raphael considered destroying the rough draft and dismissing Tav, the dark clouds parted and a glowing orange spotlight poured through the skies, illuminating his balcony.

“The solution has presented itself, alas!” Raphael jumped up, rushing towards Tav. 

She could barely register a response, or more likely a complaint of some kind, before Raphael swept her in his arms. He pushed her towards the balcony, posing her so that she was looking out over the side.

“Do not move an inch,” Raphael warned, flying back to his easel. 

“What are you p–” Tav turned her neck in an attempt to look back at Raphael.

Snap! 

Tav was forced back into place.

Another snap!

And a new, blank canvas appeared in front of Raphael. 

“Not. Even. A. Finger.” He snarled, narrowing his eyes.

Raphael picked up the paintbrush, his fingers trembling as he pondered where to start. He needed to move hastily, the current spectacle could change at any moment.

As he peered up at the little mouse, observing her under the new light, another impulse overtook him. He quickly found himself caught in a tidal wave, swept away from the safety of the shores as he struggled to find something to grab hold of. Spiralling… Suffocating… drowning in Tav’s beauty. 

Tav was glowing under the radiant beams of Avernus, perfectly illuminated from the powerful spotlight. Sheer brilliance. Despite being in the Hells, her very presence suggested angelic beauty. The theatrical side of Raphael immediately put together a narrative, filing it away in his mind for a later use when he was alone; when he had the time to write.

It would be a tragedy for the ages, a fallen celestial, a devious Devil. Falling hopelessly in love despite their damned ancestries…

No matter how brilliant Tav looked in that moment, her body was still too rigid for the painting. What Raphael needed was a model, not a statue. Nothing felt genuine or realistic with how he had staged her. The lighting would not be able to save this piece alone. Something must be done. Something more.  

Raphael’s eyes moved to Tav’s figure, his gaze carefully caressing every inch of her, every curve. His chest ached as he took her in and soon the only thing he could hear were the throbbing sounds of his heart. 

Something cracked in his hand, piercing his palm. He looked down, realising the paintbrush he had been holding was now reduced to splinters. He clenched his bloody fist, turning the shattered paintbrush into ashes.

The Devil could not control himself any longer. 

Raphael stepped away from the canvas, shifting smoothly into his cambion form. He drifted silently towards Tav until he was looming behind her. He lifted his hands, leaving them to hover inches above her shoulders. Finger by finger he started caressing her with his claws, using his digits as he would on the keyboard of a piano. 

Tav shifted her neck, leaning into each touch. Raphael’s temperature rose, the tips of his fingers becoming flames as he continued to softly stroke the little mouse. 

Raphael watched as his movements impacted her, his lips moistening at how she writhed in pleasure wherever he placed his fingers. The veins in her neck pulsated; if he listened close enough, he could just about hear her irregular breaths at the anticipation of his movements. 

The Devil truly had the little mouse in the palm of his hand. These mortals, so easy to entice… 

He continued, grabbing her chin and turning her head so that she was now looking at him. Her pupils dilated as she fixated on his face, those luscious lips parting.

“Raphael…” She began. 

Raphael used the claws from his free hand to pluck the strings of her dress like a harp; they snapped against her skin, the sinful notes filling the silence around them. He proceeded to use the same claws to cut one of the straps in a swift motion. 

“Silence, little mouse. I did not grant you permission to speak.” Raphael teased.

At Raphael’s words Tav gasped, her body shaking. He cut the other strap and it fell loosely against her shoulders. The dress barely moved, still hugging Tav’s body. If anything, it showed more bosom.

No, that was not enough. 

He brought his hands to the base of her neck, using his claws to trace down her body. He began slowly from the collarbone, moving to her shoulders, and then along the edges of her frame. As he went, his claws slashed through the fabric on her upper thigh. He cut more and more of the dress so that her entire leg was bare. 

Tav loosened at his touch, at this newfound freedom, her brows sweating. 

“Don’t you find this r-relationship… rather odd?” Tav murmured. 

“How so?” 

Raphael leaned in closer, so close, they could kiss if either of them moved out of turn. Tav melted, holding on to the balcony railings for support. Her knees quivered as she struggled to keep herself upright. 

The power Raphael had over this mortal was intoxicating. He no longer cared if his heart combusted as it raced alongside Tav’s.

“It’s just… us, I-I… I know you will never truly have feelings for me. And… I suppose that’s fine, I guess.”

Raphael paused, staring intensely at Tav. He sloped forwards, moving towards her neck. He made his breath kiss her nape in his place, sending puffs of hot air that trailed down her spine. He grinned at the goosebumps sprouting on her skin.

“I’ll be sure to let you know when I no longer care for you, little mouse. Will that put your mind at ease?”

Tav bit back a moan, her cheeks flushed as she nodded, desperately trying to hold on to whatever composure she had left. 

Raphael’s eyes widened at the sight before him. The little mouse, always showing nothing but restraint and resilience, now on the verge of collapsing at his very touch. This is what he had been craving to see all along.

This is what he needed to paint.

The Devil breathed slowly in an attempt to keep himself from ravishing her, from tearing the rest of that dress off. Tadpole infested and all, he needed her. Craved her. She belonged to him and he would savour every inch of her. Whether that was in the flesh or by capturing her essence on one canvas after another. 

“Now, be a good little mouse and hold that position...” 

Snap! 

Raphael was back at his easel, a new brush in his hand as he began painting furiously.

This will be his greatest artwork yet.

His greatest conquest. 

[chvnnie]

thoughts on..

chan impregnation kink/just straight up creampie...

it making me crazy

😵‍💫 babes say less.

I’m going to put a cut here because I…went a little hard LMAO

SMUT - MINORS DNI

I am a firm believer in dad!Chan (really dad!skz in general, but I digress). We can see with just how he cares for the members that he would be the most devoted father. Would always listen, bend over backwards to make his children happy, would discipline with kindness. World’s Best Dad? That’s Chan.

It isn’t a secret that his breeding kink is almost uncontrollable. Very, very rarely does he fuck you without filling you to the brim. It’s almost like he has to do it, like he has to chance it. He can’t help it; he loves you, he loves your family, and he just wants more.

More, more, more.

Though he would never tell you, the brief weeks after birth are when his control is really tested. Luckily, a newborn keeps him busy. Bouncing the happy new baby while making sure you’re tended to.

“Have you eaten enough?”

“Let me get you some more water.”

“Want to take the kids on a walk? The fresh air will be nice.”

Doting, wonderful father and husband. That’s Chan.

So when he comes home, careful not to step on his eldest’s daughters discarded toys that have accumulated in the walkway, and the house quiet, he’s confused. All day, he was looking forward to coming home. It’s movie night, takeout night. Why is it so…empty?

“Baby?” He calls into the house, not expecting an answer.

“Upstairs!”

Huh. He drops his bag by the door, quickly sliding his shoes off before he follows the sound of the voice. “Where are the kids?” If they were sleeping, you would have scolded him for being too loud.

“Minho offered to watch them for the night.” The night? Why? His brain is so tired, he can’t put together what’s basically being shouted in his face.

Until he’s in the bedroom. Until you’re in front of him, dressed in the prettiest lingerie he’s ever seen; the lace patterning out flowers, showing just enough for his control to slip completely out of his grasp.

Has the time passed already? Chan isn’t sure if he cares — you’re offering your body up, and he’s sure as fuck not going to say no.

The pretty fit doesn’t last long. Knees by your ears, he grips onto your ankles. His nails dig into the skin, keeping himself grounded as he relentlessly fucks into you.

God, the way you cry out for him. Cold hands wrapped around his own as your full, needy moans fill his ears.

“So fucking pretty.” He says through his teeth, eyes focused on the light bounce of your tits. “I missed you, baby.”

You simply whine, nodding your head in agreement. It’s too hard for you to think, let alone process words; Chan can tell by the vacant look in your eyes, only falling deeper in your hole with each wonderful movement.

Leaning down, he doesn’t stop until your noses are brushing. Bodies sweaty, skin against skin, melting from each other’s heat. It’s not like anything he’s ever experienced. This is home. You are home.

Your fingers lace through his curl, tugging gently. Enough to make your husband moan. “I love you.”

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. “I love you, baby. So fucking much.” When his cock twitches inside you, he knows his time is limited. That home is to be taken from him. “Fuck, I want to give you more.”

“M-more?”

“Of me.” He lets go of an ankle to grab the headboard. Allowing him to go deeper. Faster. Harder. “Of this. Let me give you another baby.”

It’s too soon. Both of you know this, and should be cautious.

But you missed him too. Probably more than he did you.

“Please.” You say as you clinch, eyes starting to water. “Please, I n-need you, Chan-“

Quickly, he silences you with a kiss. Not letting it break until he feels your walls flutter, giving him you so he can give him. Never will you have to beg for anything with him.

When he pulls out, his cum follows. Pretty little trickles out of your cunt, rolling off your skin onto the sheets. With two fingers, he gathers it up and pushes it back in.

“I would say not to be wasteful.” He chuckles, trying to catch his breath. “But when I’m done with you, it won’t be possible.”

[you-have-a-metal-arm]

Moonlight Confessions

Pairing: TASM!Peter x Bestfriend!Reader

Word Count: 0.7k

Trope: Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Tooth-rotting amount of fluff

Summary: Peter’s always there for you when it’s hard. But this time, Peter’s the one making everything hard, until he doesn’t.

Author’s Note: Please do not copy or translate my work. English is not my first language, so please understand grammar or spelling mistakes.

This fic was in my notes for so long, and I finally decided to finish it. Enjoy!

The city lights of New York twinkled like a thousand stars, casting a shimmering glow over the sprawling metropolis. From the rooftop of an old brownstone apartment, the distant hum of traffic and occasional chirp of a night bird provided a soothing backdrop. You sat alone on the rooftop, your gaze fixed on the sprawling city below, lost in thought. The cool night air brushed against your cheeks, but it did little to soothe the weight on your heart.

It had been two weeks since you last saw Peter Parker. His absence felt like a void, amplified by the emotional strain you were feeling. The B on your recent test, while not disastrous, felt like a personal failure. And missing Peter, your best friend and confidant, only deepened the ache.

The rooftop door creaked open, and you turned sharply to see Peter stepping out into the moonlight. The night had cast a soft glow around him, highlighting his tousled hair and the warm, genuine smile on his face. In his hands, he held a bouquet of sunflowers, their bright yellow petals stark against the darkness.

“Hey, Y/N,” Peter’s voice broke through the stillness, carrying a note of concern and warmth. “Sorry it’s been so long. I thought you might like these.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as he approached, the sight of the flowers lifting your spirits despite the heaviness you felt. You took the bouquet from him, your fingers brushing against his. “Peter, these are beautiful. Thank you.”

Peter sat down beside you, the night casting soft shadows across his face. His usual playful demeanor was tempered by genuine concern. “So, what’s been going on? I’ve noticed you’ve seemed a bit off lately. Anything you want to talk about?”

You hesitated, the cool breeze making you shiver slightly as you clutched the bouquet. The B on your test wasn’t the only thing troubling you. It was the emptiness of missing Peter and the struggle to keep your emotions in check. You wanted to be strong, but Peter’s presence was a comforting balm.

“I—I’ve been feeling a bit down,” you began, your voice shaky. “My grades are okay, but… I’ve been struggling with other things. It’s hard to explain.”

Peter’s expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding as he reached out and took your hand. His touch was warm, a stark contrast to the cool night air. “Y/N, you don’t have to face this alone. If something’s bothering you, you can always talk to me. I care about you, and I want to help however I can.”

Your eyes welled up with tears, and you struggled to maintain your composure. Peter’s concern was more than just friendly; it was deeply personal and sincere. You had always admired his kindness, but tonight it felt like something more.

“I didn’t want to burden you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I know you’ve been so busy…”

Peter shook his head, his gaze intense yet gentle. “You’re never a burden. You’re my best friend, and you mean a lot to me. No matter how busy I am, you’re important. If you’re struggling, let me be here for you.”

Tears finally escaped your eyes, but they were accompanied by a soft, grateful smile. You looked at him, feeling a rush of emotions. “Peter, I—”

Before you could finish, Peter cupped your face gently in his hands. The moonlight seemed to make the moment even more magical as his lips brushed against yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss. It was soft and sweet, filled with unspoken promises and emotions that had been building up between you. When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours with a mixture of hope and longing.

“You mean so much to me, Y/N,” he murmured. “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a long time. I care about you more than just as a friend.”

Your heart raced, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildly. The relief and happiness you felt in that moment made everything seem right. “Peter, I—”

He pressed his forehead against yours, his gaze never leaving yours. “Just know that I’m here for you. Whatever happens, you’re not alone.”

In the quiet of the night, with the city lights shimmering around you, everything felt perfect. You felt a sense of peace you hadn’t known in weeks. Peter’s embrace was a comforting reminder that, no matter what, you would face everything together.

Thank you for reading!

[robbyykeene]

also shannon keene........

Not sure what exactly you were referring to with this anon but I’ll take this as an opportunity to go on a rant about Shannon and her place in this story because man, I have so many feelings about her. They introduce us to her as a deeply flawed mother, an addict who abandons her son for long periods of time without any means to care for himself, who parades strings of sleazy men through the house where her child sleeps, who lets her son drop out of school and turn to a life a crime just to pay the bills. And I’m not absolving her of her responsibility for these things. But when she was introduced in this show, to me more than anything else this all felt like a condemnation of Johnny’s absence. Like, look at what happened to Shannon. Look at how Robby was forced to grow up. How different things could have been if Johnny had been there, for either of them, at all.

But then season 5 comes along and we have Shannon apologize to Johnny. He says he’s sorry for not being there and Shannon brushes him off, says she’s sorry too, they were both young and dumb and didn’t know any better. Except Johnny was 35 years old when Robby was born, and Shannon was what…19? 20? 23 at the very oldest. And she didn’t get to be young and dumb. She didn’t have the choice to walk away, to just not be there at all.

And I think all the time about that line Robby says to Tory, how his mom used to be a dancer. Like, when do we think Shannon stopped dancing? When she met Johnny? When she got pregnant? When she gave birth? When Robby was a kid? Was she an addict before Johnny came into her life, or did that only come after? Did Johnny know from the outset what kind of person he was abandoning his son with, or was it something he discovered over the years and just did nothing about? When did she start engaging in survival sex—because that’s what that was—to pay the bills?

And even more than that—what was their relationship like to begin with? Was it a one night stand? A casual on and off hookup? A serious relationship? How did they meet? When she found out she was pregnant, what was Johnny’s reaction? What was hers? Did she want an abortion, and Johnny convinced her not to? Did he want an abortion, and Shannon refused? Was it too late for that by the time she found out? Did Johnny promise to be there, to be involved? Did Shannon think she was giving birth to a kid who would have two loving parents, or did she already know he was doomed from the minute she saw the positive test? How did she feel about all of it?

And ultimately none of these questions will be answered or even matter, because it’s not her story it’s Johnny’s. And I guess that was always the point. She was an object to him then, an object to him now, and nothing but an object to the narrative. But still. I think about her.