#either almost hidden gentle touch

[homicidalbrunette]

Wanna touch but mustn't touch but okay gentle sneaky touch

[mssorceressupreme]

Under Your Control

———

Pairing: In ho x reader

Summary: you wake up almost bare one night, away from the other players, tried to someone’s bed in an all too luxurious bedroom.

only to discover that the person you loved, young-il was the frontman and he would stop at nothing to gain information out of you.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, dom!inho, sub!reader, non-con touch, age gap, oral f!receiving, fingering, hickeys, use of ropes/tied up, betrayal, stripping, toxic relationship, orgasm denial

———

The first thing you noticed was the softness beneath you—luxurious sheets that felt entirely foreign after the cold, hard floor of the hall. Blinking awake, your arms tugged instinctively, only to be met with resistance. Your wrists were tied to the bedposts, the smooth silk of the restraints deceptively gentle against your skin but firm enough to hold you in place. Panic bubbled in your chest as your eyes darted around the room.

It wasn’t like anywhere else you’d seen in this nightmare of a game. The room was extravagant, draped in rich fabrics and gilded accents, a far cry from the stark, utilitarian halls where the other players remained. The flickering light from a crystal chandelier above cast shifting shadows on the walls, adding to the eerie stillness.

“Where… where am I?” you murmured, your voice trembling. The silence pressed against you, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. You tugged harder against the restraints, your breath quickening. “Let me go!” you called out to no one in particular.

A creak at the far end of the room made your head snap toward the sound. A figure stepped into view, cloaked in black, their face hidden behind the sleek, metallic mask that sent chills through you. The mask’s emotionless design contrasted cruelly with the humanity you desperately searched for.

“Who are you?” you demanded, your voice rising despite the fear knotting in your throat. “Where am I? What’s going on?” You struggled against the restraints, the silk cutting slightly into your wrists.

The figure tilted their head, the movement slow, calculated. They took a step closer, then another, the weight of their presence suffocating. Finally, their gloved hand reached up, gripping the edge of the mask.

Time seemed to slow as they pulled it off, revealing a face you knew all too well.

“Young-il?” you breathed, disbelief flooding every syllable. Your heart twisted painfully, as though the air had been stolen from your lungs.

He smirked, the expression sharp, almost cruel, and yet it sent an unwelcome flutter through your chest. “Surprised, angel?” he said, his voice low and smooth, like honey laced with poison.

The nickname, one he’d used during the games, felt like a blade twisting in your heart. It was a cruel reminder of who you thought he was—the ally who had stood by your side, shared quiet moments of understanding, and made you feel safe.

And yet here he was, towering over you, not as a fellow player but as something far more sinister.

“You…” Your voice cracked as you stared at him, your emotions tangling into a knot of betrayal and heartbreak. “You lied to us. To me. You’re one of them.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that felt like a mockery of all the warmth you once thought he possessed. “Don’t be so dramatic,” he said, his tone playful but undercut with a dangerous edge. “I was doing what I had to. We all are.”

Your lip trembled, but you set your jaw, glaring at him even as your chest ached. “I trusted you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “...I loved you.”

His smirk faltered for a split second, a flicker of something softer passing through his eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that same icy exterior. He moved closer after taking off his coat to reveal a black tight fitted shirt underneath.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he hovered over your tied-up vulnerable body, both his legs on either side of your hips.

“I’m not here to talk about feelings, Y/N,” he said, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed against your cheek. “I need information.”

You turned your head away, refusing to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His hand cupped your jaw, gently but firmly turning your face back to him. The touch sent a jolt through you, confusing and unwelcome. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice a quiet warning. “I know you’re close to Gi-hun. He trusts you. Now, tell me about that plan he told you.”

“No,” you said, the word shaking but resolute. “I won’t betray him. I won’t betray them.”

His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Oh, angel,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

Before you could protest, his lips captured yours in a kiss that stole your breath. It was unexpected, overwhelming, and despite everything, it ignited something in you that you couldn’t suppress. Your resolve wavered as his hand moved to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.

When he pulled away, you were left reeling, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. “Now,” he said, his voice softer but no less commanding, “tell me.”

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from speaking. He tilted his head, his eyes scanning your body up and down, beneath him. He then caressed the side of your upper body, his hand making his way to your jacket zipper.

Shit, you weren't wearing a bra underneath today, nor a shirt, because it was supposedly bedtime. Slowly, he undid your zipper, exposing your cloth-less skin. "No bra?"

You laid beneath him shaking your head slightly, now bare, even more vulnerable.

"Look at you, so fucking pretty..." He then leaned in, "I might have to be rough if you don't tell me what I want..." He cooed, almost mockingly. His lips ghosting over yours, teasing, before pressing another kiss to them, sucking lightly. This time, your body betrayed you entirely, melting into him despite the storm of emotions crashing within you. Straightening himself up, he pulled your pants down while still hovering over you, leaving you in your undies. He pressed his thumb to your throbbing clit, with pressure before slowly stroking your folds over the fabric of your undies.

“Stop,” you whispered, though the word lacked conviction. “Please...” Yet, he continued, slipping two fingers inside your undies before stroking your folds again. You tried to resist his touch, you hated this, you hated him for betraying you guys. But your body felt differently. Trying to resist the pleasure, you forced yourself to not react, however, your body kept twitching under his touch and from all the pleasure building up.

“Then talk,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a velvet threat.

The push and pull was too much. Your heart warred with your mind, your love for him tangling with the sharp sting of his betrayal. "I won't." You spat, and he responded by inserting two fingers harshly inside you. You moaned, tilting your head back, panting heavily as he began pumping in and out of you. "Stop..." You pleaded, whimpering as he picked up his pace. Your breathing was heavy, gosh, he managed to make you feel so good, you were like putty under his control. "You tell me to stop, yet your body tells me otherwise...." His voice was low, sensual, "...so fucking wet for me..."

You felt your climax near approaching, your heartbeat quickening, you were close. "Young-il..." You plead, once more. "I'm gonna....I'm getting close..." Barely a whisper came out, your eyes shut tightly, body melting under his touch. "I'm gonna cum..."

He continued, pumping deeper and faster, and your climax was getting close and closer until...

He pulled his fingers out.

"Don't stop please..." You begged, "please Young-il I need you..." You mentally slapped yourself for sounding so needy, begging for more. No matter how mad you were, a part of you still wanted him. He smirked, seeing how needy you were for him which also fuelled his own desire. His bulge was evident, pressing against your thigh.

Young-il stroked your cheeks softly, "Oh Y/N, you'll get what you want...once you tell me his plan."

"I already told you I won't." You retort. "Such a stubborn, pretty mouth, hm?" He gazed into your eyes, filled with lust. He wanted you so bad, he'd do anything to make his name fall from your pretty mouth again.

He bent down, planting sloppy kisses on your collarbone down to your stomach. Sucking harshly till he left a bruise, "You'll look even more gorgeous with my marks all over you." Shifting down, Young-il moved closer to your cunt, making eye contact while he licked your folds.

"Young-il..." You moaned, body involuntarily arching, bucking your hips up into his face. Placing his hands on the velvety part of your inner thighs, he parted your legs wider before leaning in again to place kitten licks on your cunt.

"You taste so good angel..." He murmured into you.

He made sure to suck on your clit, with extra pressure, licking between the folds, slowly but sensually. "Young-il please..." You whimpered.

He pulled away slightly, "You want me to let you cum?"

"Please..." You begged, breathing heavily.

"Please what?" He retorted, "Use your words beautiful."

"Please make me cum..." You whined, before he continued, licking your whole slit, your became wetter by the second, body begging for more.

"The plan." He demanded you to tell him, "Now." Before pulling away again.

You groaned, wanting more, needing more. Your body so close filled with arousal, yet so far from a climax.

He leaned down once more, sucking on your clit again.

"The guards!-" You cried aloud, overwhelmed with pleasure. "An attack at midnight..." You moaned softly.

"Anything else?" Young-il smirked, knowing the control he had over you. "That's Gi-hun's plan...attack management at midnight when they've assumed we're asleep." You blurt out, which you immediately regretted. You told him what he wanted to know—about Gi-hun’s plan, the uprising, the desperate hope for freedom. Satisfied, Young-il sucked harder, licking every inch of your cunt with fervour. You moaned loudly, panting heavily as you came closer to a climax.

"I'm so close...gonna cum..." You arched your back further, "I'm gonna..." Then it washed over you, your body jerking harshly as it filled with pleasure. Your walls throbbed, and you felt a rush to your core; you let out a moan, hands tangling in Young-il's hair as you came.

When you finished, he pulled back, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He reached out, brushing a hair from your face with a gentleness that felt like a cruel mockery. “Good girl,” he said softly.

You turned your face away, tears slipping silently down your cheeks as guilt and shame consumed you. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, "See that wasn't so hard was it." Young-il zipped up your jacket and helped you put on your track pants but still leaving you tied up.

He stood up, getting off the bed, “Not a word of this to anyone,” he said, his voice cold and unfeeling once more. “If you do, they’ll die. Every last one of them.”

You nodded, unable to speak. "Sleep here for tonight, the bed is more comfortable." He spoke while putting on his jacket, "When you wake up tomorrow, you'll be back in the hall with the others. I'll see you there angel." He winked, placing the mask back over his face before walking away.

Your body tremlbed as the door closed behind him.

Despite everything, your heart still ached for him. And that, more than anything, was the cruelest twist of all.

[happyyyandcrazyyy]

love and tattoos (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: in which jesper has a theory and kaz might be the matching tattoos kind of guy.

or

it’s two small words, a raven and a crow, a broken lock and a key, and a band around their ring finger.

or

“He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.”

warnings: brief panic attack (not detailed), mentions of wounds and blood (not detailed, canon typical), set in the future, kaz has worked on his touch aversion

kaz taglist: @the-tpd-bau @ellievickstar @thestudiouswanderer | soc taglist: @ancientbeing10 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist just dm me!)

a/n: here i am, once again, because apparently im incapable of stopping myself from writing for kaz brekker. i have so many wips but kaz always calls to me😭😭 this one was so much fun to write, it just flowed, and i hope you enjoy it just as much as i did!!

i. a band of ink around his ring finger, part one.

Jesper must be hallucinating, he has to be. He blinks once, twice, looks down at the drink in his hand, briefly wonders if it’s been laced with some sort of drug powerful enough to have his brain imagining things— because Jesper does not have the imagination to be making this up, he wishes he did —and then looks back up. The ink remains in place. Nope, no way. He shakes his head, presses his eyes shut. He has to be drunk, or high, or something, because there is absolutely no way he’s just seen a band of ink around Kaz’s ring finger.

It’s not the tattoo itself that shocks Jesper. Although, maybe it does freak him out a bit, a band around the ring finger can only mean one thing, and Jesper has never believed Kaz to be the marrying type. (Then again, he never thought him to be the matching tattoos kind of guy, and the last couple of months have had him discovering that Kaz very much could be.) No, what makes Jesper spiral is that he’s seen that exact same tattoo on (Y/N)’s own ring finger.

ii. you break, i mend.

Jesper has seen the tattoo on the inside of (Y/N)’s left wrist more times than he can count.

The word ‘mend’ in all lowercase, the typography delicate and elegant, the font somewhat rounded. Jesper has never asked what it means— because everyone in the Barrel has been branded, either by choice or against their will, and Jesper knows the black ink carries memories, promises and pain, he knows better than to ask —but he thinks it’s fitting for her, both the word and the style. Because (Y/N) is a gentle force, someone who provides emotional care to those close to her, a fixer. She loves proudly and deeply, and Jesper has never met someone in this wretched place that is so unafraid to be kind. He doesn’t know what she does to remain untainted, to keep her soul so pure in spite of their line of work. He envies it, sometimes. But then he’ll hear muted sobs through the thin walls, wake up at the sound of screams caused by nightmares, and he’ll wonder if feeling and caring that much is even worth it.

Jesper doesn’t think much about (Y/N)’s tattoo— it’s pretty and it suits her, and, yeah, he gets the desperate need to ask for a backstory whenever he catches a glimpse of it, but never does. There’s nothing more to it. That is until he spies a word on Kaz’s own wrist.

He only sees the tattoo because Kaz takes his gloves off. That doesn’t happen very often, if at all. But it’s the hottest day of summer they’ve had in Ketterdam in years, and they’ve been out in the sun all day, so Jesper is only mildly surprised when they reach Kaz’s office and he takes the black gloves off. What does take him completely off guard, however, is the inked word on his right wrist, partially hidden by the sleeves of his shirt.

‘BREAK’. In uppercase, with jagged and fragmented lettering. Jesper only catches a glimpse before Kaz twists away and the ink is completely sheltered by his clothes, but he’s almost sure the tattoo has some sort of optical effect, makes it seem like the words have been shattered, all sharp and angular lines.

Kaz is saying something and Inej is responding, and it’s probably important and he definitely should be paying attention, but Jesper’s mind is elsewhere because (Y/N)’s delicate tattoo suddenly comes to mind. The similarities are just right there and now all Jesper can think about is how odd of a coincidence it is that (Y/N) and Kaz have mirror tattoos. Same place, but opposite wrist. A single word, one neat and elegant, the other harsh and precise. Jesper does not believe in coincidences, but it can’t be anything else— because believing it to be something else would mean believing Kaz to be a matching tattoos type of person and Jesper would bet his guns against that —so he simply ponders over the possible coincidence, just for a quick second, before Kaz is directing questions towards him and Jesper is forced to shove the information in the back of his mind.

He ends up forgetting about it. Not forgetting forgetting, more so in the way he forgets his debts until there are collectors knocking on his door. The information is there, stored in some corner of his brain, ready to be brought back into his consciousness with just the right push.

The right push comes a Saturday night, two months after he first notices Kaz’s tattoo.

(Y/N) is out on a job. Jesper doesn’t know any of the details— not the target, nor the entry and exit routes, nothing at all —but he knows something is wrong because Kaz has been pacing for the last half hour.

“She should be back by now,” is all Kaz says when he asks. He doesn’t really need to say more. Jesper feels the way his chest constricts, panic slowly building. (Y/N) is never late.

Just as Jesper feels like he’s about to start pacing himself, the door of the Slat opens. She’s got her hood on, doesn’t look up from the floor when she walks in. There’s a certain drag in her limbs, something that tells Jesper that something is wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Where the fuck were you?” The words aren’t directed towards him, but Jesper cannot help but flinch. Kaz doesn’t get like this often, cold and harsh because he’s worried, so the job must’ve been important, high stakes, the type where survival isn’t assured.

(Y/N) looks up, and it’s only then that Jesper notices the blood. It’s everywhere. It drips down the slope of her nose, it trails down her lips. She walks closer and with the change of light he notices that it’s also embedded in her clothes. The most disturbing thing, however, are her eyes. Glassy, distant, unseeing. She’s shaking. Full body tremors.

By his side, Kaz deflates completely at the sight of her. He’s already moving towards her when she whispers brokenly, “I’m sorry.”

The apology goes ignored, “Where are you hurt?” Kaz asks. He reins his panic well enough, but Jesper can still taste the traces of it, they float around in the air.

(Y/N) doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge Kaz as he comes to stand right in front of her, trying his best to assess for injuries. It’s hard when all there is to see is blood.

“I’m not hurt,” she responds, and it’s like she’s in a trance, capable of responding but not truly present. Jesper furrows his brows, catches the concerned look on Kaz face. Does she not realize she’s covered in blood? She raises her hand to gesture at herself, and it’s only when she does so that Jesper notices the blade. She waves it around. It’s stained red, all the way to the handle. “Blood’s not mine.”

Jesper freezes. Kaz stops dead on his tracks, too.

Kaz looks back at him and understanding passes through them. She snapped. Something made her snap.

It seems like she’s just processing it, too, because a second after she mutters those words the knife falls from her hand and her knees wobble. It’s like Kaz had been expecting the sudden crash, because he’s quick to help her down. He grabs her by the sleeves of her tunic and sits her on the floor, back against the wall.

Her breathing begins to come out hard and labored, she clutches at her chest, hard.

“Look at me,” Kaz instructs, but she’s not here anymore. Jesper cannot help the way fear courses through him at the sight of her faraway eyes and the sound of her disordered breaths. He’s only ever seen (Y/N) like this once before, and even then, it hadn’t been this bad, she’d been responsive to Kaz, and very much able to breathe properly. Right now, not even Kaz’s words are cutting through the haze.

The wheezing becomes louder, more intense. The more she panics, the less she breathes, the more Jesper feels like he, himself, isn’t capable of getting air into his lungs. Kaz keeps talking, but she doesn’t seem to hear him.

“I can’t—” Her lips are slowly losing color.

Jesper is still frozen in place, and he can tell that Kaz is also beginning to panic by the way he grabs her clothed hand and presses it against his own chest.

“Breathe,” he orders. Insistent, firm. Kaz’s words leave no room for argument and (Y/N) reacts accordingly. Like it’s instinct to do as Kaz says, she takes in a deep breath, ragged.

“Good girl.” Kaz’s hand, the one that isn’t on top of (Y/N)’s own, pressed against his chest, hovers over her cheek. He ends up grabbing the end of the hood that still partially covers her face. “One more time.”

She repeats the action, another deep breath, interrupted by a brief coughing fit.

“You’re okay, match my breaths.” She nods weakly and does as best she can, eyes shut. The hand that is on Kaz’s chest has become a fist, rumpling his shirt. She holds onto him like a lifeline.

“I’ll get her water,” he finds himself saying.

Kaz doesn’t turn to look at him, “Bring a wet cloth, too.”

Jesper nods and slips out of the room and into the kitchen. He feels like he’s having an out of body experience, his body working automatically on pouring tap water in a glass, on finding a clean cloth. His mind is miles away.

Saints.

It’s disconcerting to see someone as serene and put together as (Y/N) so rattled and distraught. He feels disoriented, like the world has shifted off his feet. He’s never seen her snap so badly that she ends up spiraling into a panic attack. Jesper doesn’t know much about her past, but Kaz had once mentioned something about a complicated upbringing, about being raised as a weapon not a child. He doesn’t want to begin to imagine what he’d meant.

The soft murmur of words brings him back to reality, grounds him and guides him once again into his body.

“Are you with me?”

No response, but Jesper imagines that she must’ve nodded because he hears the soft sigh of relief that Kaz lets out.

It’s quiet for a little while, Jesper focuses on the sound of water flowing through the cloth in his hands, the feeling of it getting damper.

“I’m sorry.” The words come out soft, filled with emotion and embarrassment.

“None of that.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I know. It’s okay.”

The silence lingers before being filled by quiet noises. Jesper has heard her sobs through his wall enough times to identify them. His heart tightens painfully.

“It’s okay,” Kaz repeats, softer this time. It’s a tone Jesper has never heard him use with anyone else.

“There were children, Kaz,” Jesper has to strain to make out the words, they’re muffled by something, “little kids. And it just reminded me of… I couldn’t...”

“I know.”

A sniffle, “I’m sorry,” followed by a broken laugh, soft and sad. “I’m a mess.”

Jesper turns off the faucet, twists the cloths to remove any excess of water. He grabs the glass of water with one hand and the cloth with the other and then, just, waits. He knows this conversation is not one he should be present for, he doesn’t want to be present.

It’s a good thing, too, that he doesn’t make his way towards them, because he’s pretty sure he would’ve stumbled and dropped everything at the next words that fall out of Kaz’s mouth.

“If you break, I mend, remember?”

(mend

BREAK)

Jesper places the glass of water on the kitchen counter and blinks once, twice.

Saints be damned.

Kaz might be the matching tattoos type of person.

iii. a raven and a crow

The matching tattoo theory, as Jesper likes to refer to it, remains just that, a theory. Because Jesper has no real way of proving it, not unless he finds the will to ask (Y/N)— which he just can’t do, she’s so open about everything that prodding just feels unfair —or unless he brings his curiosity to Kaz— which might just end up with him losing a finger, and Jesper likes his limbs just as they are, thank you very much. So, for now, it’s merely speculation, something that could be played off as a coincidence. And he thinks it must be a coincidence, right? Matching tattoos are too sentimental for someone like Kaz. (Then again, he has always been different when it comes to (Y/N), so maybe Jesper shouldn’t be that surprised.) And they aren’t matching tattoos, not really, they are more like, well, mirror ones. It’s different. Probably nothing. He might be connecting dots where there’s absolutely nothing to connect.

He can’t help the way he begins to observe more, trying to find anything to sustain or disprove his theory. It’s only natural, he tells himself, Jesper is nothing if not a curious man.

It’s only because he becomes so attuned to them, and whatever that thing is that they have going on, that Jesper notices little things.

“Inej?”

“Good.”

Kaz keeps on making roll call, making sure all of them are there and unharmed.

“Jes?”

“Very much alive,” he grunts in response, letting himself flop into the haystack. His heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, but at least it’s still beating. He cannot believe a blizzard of all things is what saved their lives.

He looks to his left. Even Inej looks slightly winded. She pats the pocket of her coat, sags in relief immediately after. Jesper does the same, touches his inner pocket, feels the edges of the glass key, and sighs.

The goods are safe.

“Nina?”

“Here.” Her cheeks are rosy. Jesper isn’t sure if it’s because of the dreadful cold or the exertion.

There’s silence after, the room filled by only harsh breaths. Jesper snaps up, looking around frantically, because Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name and that can only mean that she’s not there or she’s…

His mind quiets down when he takes in the sight in front of him.

Kaz is not calling (Y/N)’s name because he already has eyes on her. Probably always did.

And that’s when Jesper sees it, a little thing, something that tilts the scales in favor of his theory; the softness in (Y/N)’s face as she listens to Kaz.

(Y/N) is always kind— with battered gang members and hungry street urchins, with the loud customers and even with those who dare gamble against her —but Jesper is just now realizing that there’s a different gentleness when it comes to the way she takes Kaz in. The look in her eyes becomes quieter, more intimate, delicate. She says something, much too quiet for Jesper to hear, and smiles. Kaz shakes his head fondly, responds with a hushed whisper. It’s tender, precious, private. It makes Jesper feel like he’s intruding.

And then something Jesper has never seen before happens. Kaz takes (Y/N)’s chin with his gloved hand, thumb and index fingers holding her. He moves her face around, looking for any visible injury.

There goes another detail in favor of the matching tattoo theory.

Jesper thinks he might’ve just entered some sort of altered reality because what is he even looking at right now. He looks around but Inej and Nina aren’t paying them any mind, too engrossed in their own conversation.

Great, he’s all alone in trying to figure this thing out.

“I’m okay,” he hears (Y/N) reassure.

For the most part, Jesper thinks to himself, because he doesn’t miss the way she’s pressing her hand to her abdomen. Apparently, it hasn’t slipped past Kaz either, because he hums and raises his eyebrows, eyes pointedly trailing down to the wound.

She rolls her eyes at him, even that action looks fond, “It’s not deep.”

Kaz is more tactile with her, Jesper realizes with a start. It’s not a word he would ever use to describe Dirtyhands, but it’s the only one that comes to mind. (And Kaz has gotten better over the years, he has. It’s been gradual, and Jesper has no clue as to how or what he’s done, but he hasn’t missed the way Kaz doesn’t cringe away from the Crows anymore, how he doesn’t pale when someone brushes against him. He doesn’t seek touch, but he doesn’t lose all semblance of control at it either. Still, tactile is farther from what Kaz is, and this? This is huge. This is the greatest display of touch Jesper has ever seen him do.)

“You’ve got it?”

“Yeah, I’ll stitch it.”

His gloved thumb brushes her skin, briefly, before he taps the bottom of her chin gently, in approval, and lets her go.

“I can help you with that,” Nina pipes up.

Jesper turns around, immediately catches the look in the Heartrender’s eyes. Seems like he might not be the only one noticing things.

(Y/N) nods in agreement and Nina follows after her. Jesper decides, after taking only two seconds to ponder on the thought, to trail behind them. He wants to listen in— because he knows Nina won’t be able to keep herself from commenting or questioning and he’s aching to know —but he’s also hoping the Heartrender will take pity on him and heal some of his bruises.

“What do you want?” Nina asks him as they settle on a small corner of the stable. (Y/N) leans against a wooden post as she begins to undress, untucking her shirt.

Jesper simply points at the bruise he can already feel forming on his cheekbone, offering a cheeky smile.

“I’m not a nurse, Fahey.”

“You’re gonna stitch her up!” (Y/N) is watching with amusement and when Jesper points at her she raises one hand in surrender, the other still pressed against her wound.

“Yeah, well,” Nina shrugs, needle and thread in hand, “She’s my favorite.”

(Y/N) chuckles. There’s a broken-down iron chest and she sits on it as well as she can, leaning back so that Nina can work. She winks at him, “Privileges, Jes.”

He pouts.

“Saints,” Nina mutters when she catches a look of him. She’s decided that kneeling by (Y/N) side will be the most comfortable position for her to work. She cleans the wound, pours water over it, and doesn’t turn to him as she says, “If you stop doing that face I’ll see what I can do about the bruise.”

He smirks to himself, “You’ve got it, boss.”

Jesper can’t see it, but he’s sure she rolls her eyes at him.

“Try not to move,” she instructs (Y/N), voice gaining a softer, less teasing edge. The needle pricks the skin.

It’s not a deep wound, (Y/N) had been right about that. It bleeds, but the flow seems to be slowing down. It’s a little bit over her hipbone, but not quite on her abdomen. Judging by the injury, if Jesper had to guess, he would say it was probably caused by a straight back blade.

He had sort of expected Nina to immediately fire away, to start unabashedly questioning, but she doesn’t. She moves her hands in a repetitive motion, closing the skin. Then, she casually comments, “That’s not a crow.”

It’s only then that Jesper notices the ink; just over (Y/N)'s hipbone, only visible because she’d pulled her trousers a bit down to give Nina more skin to maneuver around.

“No, it isn’t,” (Y/N) confirms. She’s got her eyes closed, looks a lot more like she’s sleeping and not like she’s having her skin stitched back together. Either Nina has an amazing ability or she’s somehow managing to dissociate from the pain.

“A raven?”

“Yeah.”

Jesper leans away from the wall to get a better look at it. It’s small, simple, just the silhouette done in thin black lines. He has no idea how Nina managed to identify the bird.

Nina stays quiet for a split second, musing. She keeps her hands steady, thread pulling skin. Apparently, she decides she does not care about decorum— just like Jesper had expected —because she ends up stating, matter-of-factly, “Kaz calls you that.”

Jesper sort of forgets how to breathe. That’s why Nina hadn’t gone on a tangent regarding the touches and the glances, he realizes in that moment. She’d been distracted by something much more interesting.

And she hadn’t identified the bird, she’d just made an informed assumption. Because Kaz does call her that, raven, and sometimes, when he's feeling particularly fond, little raven. He uses it interchangeably with her name and often enough that when Jesper had initially joined the Dregs, all those years back, he’d assumed it to be her name. He’s not quite sure how Nina, who’s been with them for a shorter period of time, managed to make that connection quicker than him.

(Y/N) lets out a breathy laugh, “That he does.”

Instead of further grilling (Y/N) about the tattoo, as Jesper had expected, Nina changes the line of inquiry.

“Why?” She stops sewing and looks up at (Y/N), eyes filled with curiosity.

Oh, she’s insane, Jesper thinks to himself. He sort of wishes he’d have the audacity to ask such direct questions.

(Y/N) doesn’t seem bothered by the prodding, only mildly amused. She chuckles, “You would have to ask him that.”

Not even Nina is insane enough to dare do that. Probably. Nina is sort of a wild card, Jesper can never get a complete read on her.

She proves her sanity by taking the easier route, she whines and pouts, “C’mon. Tell us.”

(Y/N) laughs, louder this time. The reaction is immediate, the wound oozes more blood, and she flinches, moving her hand towards the injury and managing to stop herself millimeters before touching it. It makes Nina get back to stitching.

“You’re bold,” (Y/N) opens her eyes and looks straight at Jesper. There’s something in her eyes, a glimmer that passes quickly, like she knows something that Jesper doesn’t and it amuses her. “Jes would never dare ask.”

“Hey!” He pretends to be offended but isn’t really. She knows him too well.

“You know it’s true.”

He only grumbles in response, hates that she’s right.

Nina is suddenly tense, as if she isn’t quite sure if (Y/N)’s words are meant as a compliment or a reprimand. (Y/N) closes her eyes again, rests her head against the wall and reassures her, “I like that. Your boldness.”

And Nina preens, subtly, but she does. Jesper understands. (Y/N)’s approval somehow comes to mean everything to those around her. She’s like an older sister you’re always trying to impress.

Jesper thinks she won’t be saying anything more, but (Y/N) does.

“Ravens are softer than crows, more playful,” she mumbles quietly. Jesper, who isn’t even far from her, strains to hear, “Gentler, too.” And it’s like she knows exactly where the ink lays on her skin, like she has it memorized, because she manages to avoid Nina and the needle and trace the outline of the tattoo, eyes still closed, “And yet they manage to survive in the same brutal world that crows do.”

The words sink in. Jesper blinks once, twice, shifts on his feet, somewhat uncomfortable. It feels like he’s just gained insight on something much too private, into the feelings and thoughts of Kaz Brekker. Because what she just explained, vaguely and in simple words, has a much deeper meaning, and Jesper doesn’t miss that. It’s how Kaz sees her, an equal. Someone as strong as a crow, as fierce and resourceful and capable, but softer, gentler. That’s (Y/N) to him.

“That’s it?” Nina sounds perpetually unimpressed, but she doesn’t get it. She hasn’t been with the Crows long enough to understand.

(Y/N) smirks, like she knew the words wouldn’t mean much to her, and that tells Jesper something. There’s even more to the meaning of the nickname and she won’t be sharing.

“If you want more you can just ask Kaz.”

Nina huffs and pouts, pulls at the thread a bit harsher than necessary in retaliation. It probably doesn’t even sting, but (Y/N) plays along.

“Ow!?” The smirk remains on her face.

“Sorry,” Nina says, not sounding the least apologetic.

(Y/N) only chuckles, “I really do like your boldness.”

It isn’t until later that night, as Jesper sleeps in the haystack and shivers from the cold, hoping to the Saints that the smell of horse can be removed from his clothes, that realization strikes him. His eyes snap wide open.

The image of a letter R inked in Kaz’s forearm flashes through his mind.

R.

A Raven.

No fucking way.

He has no evidence of it, no evidence that those tattoos might be complementary, but something in his gut tells him they are, and he decides to listen to his instincts.

Great, that’s yet another circumstantial piece of evidence in favor of his theory.

(Jesper doesn’t know, will never know, but he gets it both wrong and right. The letter R that is permanently etched on Kaz’s skin means something else entirely, but he does have the small silhouette of a crow, different from the one on his arm, over his ribs.)

iv. a broken lock and a key

Jesper and (Y/N) stay behind. It’s Jesper’s fault, he’d landed wrong when they jumped off the cliff, too busy on firing his guns to focus on the landing, and the resulting sprained ankle made it hard to keep up with the rest. (Maybe it was sort of Kaz’s fault, too, because who even decides on an exit route that includes free falling off a cliff. Jesper should be used to Kaz’s antics by now, but the man keeps on outdoing himself.)

(Y/N) had quickly offered to match his pace, to keep him company while the rest went ahead.

After a quick discussion Kaz had agreed to it. Jesper hadn’t missed the way they’d said goodbye. Their pinky fingers interlacing with one another.

He might not be completely sure about his matching tattoo theory— denial, really, he’s in denial, and he’s man enough to admit that to himself —but he has absolutely no doubt there is something going on between them. Jesper hasn’t put a name on it yet, he’s not even sure they have, but one would have to be blind to deny it.

Wylan had volunteered too, but Kaz needed him for the next phase of the plan, so he wasn’t really an option. A shame, really, Jesper would’ve enjoyed some alone time with his boyfriend, but he can’t complain, (Y/N) is good company. She doesn’t whine about how slow they’re going, doesn’t mention the fact that, by now, they’re probably two days behind. She keeps the air between them filled with light chatter and that makes it more bearable, makes him feel less of a burden.

On the third day of their journey Jesper wakes up alone. He’s not immediately filled by dread because he’s a light sleeper, he’s sure he would’ve woken up at the sound of any commotion, and he’s even more certain that (Y/N) would’ve had any attacker down on the floor with a gun to their temple before they even had the chance to breathe too close to them.

So, he’s not worried, but there’s something about not having (Y/N) within his line of sight that feels wrong, partly because he’s got no idea where she is, and mainly because Kaz had given him a cautionary glare when they’d ventured ahead, an easily interpreted warning to keep her safe or else.

It’s only when he begins to look around that Jesper notices her knapsack is also missing. He closes his eyes and focuses. Somewhere in the distance he can hear running water. He follows the sound before he can think too much, limping along the way.

Jesper finds her easily. He sort of wishes he hadn’t found her. Because she is showering in the lake and she is completely naked.

“Saints!” It’s a knee-jerk reaction to turn around, eyes screwed shut. “I am so sorry.”

(Y/N) snickers, unbothered, “Relax, Jes. It’s okay.”

And she’s saying that, but Jesper is pretty sure Kaz would gauge his eyes off is he found out he’s just seen her completely nude.

He shakes his head, over and over. Ah, Kaz is going to kill him. He is a dead man walking.

She must be watching him because she lets out a laugh.

“Oh, please.” There’s amusement in her tone, “Nothing you haven’t seen before,” she teases, and Jesper regrets every single thing he’s ever told her about his sexual encounters.

He huffs out a laugh. It’s got nothing to do with that, Jesper isn’t a prude, he’s just trying to process the fact that if Kaz ever finds out he will more than likely lose a finger, or his life. But he can’t say that, that’s a conversation he’s not ready to have, so he settles for, “You’re like my sister, it’s not the same.”

“Fair enough,” she responds. Jesper catches the affection in her voice. He doesn’t think he’s ever told her how she sees her as family and she must’ve known, their bond runs deep, it goes unspoken, but maybe it’s different to hear it out loud.

“It’s my fault anyways, I shouldn’t have left without telling you where I was going,” she disrupts his thoughts. “But you were finally sleeping.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. Obviously it wouldn’t slip past her that in between the pain on his ankle and the cold of the night he’s been having a hard time falling asleep.

“You shouldn’t be standing for long,” she points out, and Jesper agrees. His leg is beginning to ache and if they’re going to travel long today, he must rest as much as he can. But the idea of walking back to camp and leaving her alone doesn’t sit right with him— even if he knows she’s capable of defending herself, she would probably do a better job than him, given his state —so he limps towards a big rock, back still towards her, and sits.

“You’re gonna keep me company?”

Jesper hums in response, “Talk so I know you haven’t suddenly been kidnapped.”

She doesn’t talk, instead she sings. It’s an old Kerch song, Jesper knows because of the mournful feel. It builds up slow and steady, flows with the morning air. She's got a nice voice. Jesper never gets tired of hearing her.

It’s as he listens, slowly being lulled into a peaceful mindset, that the memory of the ink flows through his mind. It’d been the thing his eyes had zeroed in, the black mark on the back of her neck.

Maybe it’s the soothing music, or maybe he’s slowly becoming more daring, but the words slip out of his mouth without thought, “Is it a key?”

(Y/N) stops midway through the bridge of the song.

“What?” she asks, confusion permeating the lone word.

“On the back of your neck,” Jesper clarifies, gesturing to his own neck.

There’s silence, long enough for Jesper to start thinking that maybe this wasn’t the best idea, before the air is filled with laughter. She chuckles as if he's just said the funniest thing.

She’s still giggling when she says, “I can’t believe you caught sight of it.”

He’s confused by her reaction and settles for responding with a teasing, “I’ve got a great vision.”

“That you do,” she replies. "It is a key," she confirms and then the singing starts again, more of a humming this time around, a much brighter song.

And Jesper must be really really losing the filter between his mouth and his brain— he blames the pain and the lack of sleep —because he finds himself asking, “Does Kaz have a lock, by any chance?”

He’s teasing, but not really. It’s a good enough question, not truly invasive. It gives her room to answer as she wishes.

To his surprise, she says, “Yes, he does.”

His head snaps towards her, momentarily forgetting that she’s naked and that Kaz will definitely kill him for seeing her naked twice. To his luck, (Y/N) is already getting dressed, water dripping down her hair and staining her shirt.

“What?”

There’s a sharp glint in her eyes, knowing, almost playful. A smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth, just enough hint of mischief to make Jesper doubt the truthfulness of her words.

“Yeah,” she repeats in mock seriousness, “he’s got a small lock around here,” she points the area around her collarbone, close to where her heart is. “It’s very pretty.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

(Y/N) snickers, “Maybe I am.” She ruffles his hair as she walks past him.

Weeks later Jesper realizes that she had been fucking with him, but not lying. Kaz’s shirt rips during a heist and Jesper catches the briefest glimpse of the image of a broken lock, inked right above his heart.

v. a band of ink around his ring finger, part two.

As if summoned by his thoughts, (Y/N) materializes by his side. She takes a look at his face, follows his line of sight, and snickers.

“Did you finally figure it out?”

He turns to her. Blinks once, twice.

“What?”

She looks highly entertained by the evident confusion on his face.

“I caught you staring at my tattoo sometimes,” Jesper follows the movement of her fingers, watches as she rubs the mend on her wrist absentmindedly. “And then you would get this constipated look on your face.”

Jesper sputters, “I do not look constipated.”

“Only when you’re thinking too hard,” she teases, her smile bright. “So, I figured, well…”

“That I might be losing my mind trying to figure out if Kaz is the matching tattoo kind of person?”

“Yep, something like that,” she takes a sip of her drink. “He is, by the way.” (Y/N)’s not looking at him anymore, her eyes have drifted. He follows her sight and isn’t surprised to find her looking at Kaz. She softens immediately. “All the tattoos were his idea.”

Jesper feels like he’s really entered some other reality. He can’t believe she’s just telling him all this. Does this mean that he could’ve known months ago if he’d just asked?

“And,” he dares ask, because apparently (Y/N) is in a sharing mood, and apparently he's grown bolder. It must be the alcohol. “You’re married?”

He doesn’t miss the way she rubs her thumb against her ring finger, the one that contains the exact same band of ink as Kaz’s.

“Yeah.”

“Actually?”

She pulls her necklace. A wedding band lies there. It’s anything but traditional. Black, probably forged from oxidized steel. Sleek, unadorned and somehow still elegant. There’s something engraved on the inside. Jesper just catches the letter R.

“Got the documents to prove it, too.”

Jesper sighs, astounded, “You never said a thing.”

“We didn’t really keep it a secret, just private.” It sounds like an apology somehow. “It's just, in a place like this," she gestures around, "some things you have to keep to yourself."

Jesper understands.

He shakes his head, still somehow feeling like he’s drugged.

Kaz Brekker, a matching tattoo and marriage type of person. Who would’ve guessed.

“Lovers, huh?”

(Y/N) smiles, before she slips away and makes her way towards Kaz, Jesper hears her whisper.

“‘Lovers’ feels too small a word for what we are.”

[nxsturn]

license ( c.s )

warnings: nsfw! (car sex, rough sex, stomach bulg kink, overstimulation, praising — dirty and clean).

the night feels like it belongs to you and him, the air warm and alive, humming with something you can’t name. the engine of his car is soft and steady beneath you, a quiet heartbeat as the road stretches ahead, endless and dark. you’re not sure where you’re going, and you’re even less sure if it matters.

he has one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh, his fingers warm and steady against the fabric of your skirt. the weight of his touch is casual, almost absent-minded, but there’s something deliberate about the way his thumb brushes idly over your leg, a slow, unconscious rhythm that makes it impossible for you to focus on anything else.

you glance down, caught in the sight of his hand there, the way it looks — strong, sure, like it belongs. the faint glow from passing streetlights catches on his knuckles, and you’re staring before you realize it, heat rising in your chest.

“you good?” he glances at you, half a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. it’s not the first time he’s caught you staring tonight.

“yeah,” you answer, but your voice is quieter than you mean for it to be, and you can feel the way it hangs between you, the weight of something unsaid.

his smile deepens for a moment, like he knows something you don’t, before his eyes slide back to the road. the streetlights blur as they pass, gold and soft, and the scent of him — faint cologne, leather, and something warm, something him, lingers in the air.

you shift in your seat, trying to focus on the faint music from the radio, the rhythmic push and pull of the tires against the pavement, anything but the heat of his palm still pressed against your thigh. but it’s impossible when the glow of the dashboard catches his profile just right, the sharp line of his jaw, the concentration in his brow.

it’s new, this version of him. Chris behind the wheel. him with this quiet, unspoken confidence. and it’s attractive in a way you hadn’t expected, in a way you’re not entirely sure how to handle.

“you’re quiet,” he says, breaking through your thoughts. his tone is light, teasing, but there’s something underneath it, a thread of curiosity.

“just thinking,” you say, and it’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either.

he hums in response, and the sound is low, thoughtful. his thumb moves against your thigh again, just once, absent but enough to send a shiver through you. the road opens up ahead, empty and inviting, and he presses the gas just a little harder. the car hums like it’s alive, like it feels the same electric pull you do, and you’re struck with the thought that this moment, this night, could go anywhere.

as the car speeds down the empty road, the night air rushes past, a soothing melody that blends with the hum of the engine. you find yourself leaning into his touch, your leg pressing against his hand as if seeking more contact.

the car slows as he steers it off the main road, the tires crunching on gravel as he pulls into an empty parking lot. the sudden stillness is a stark contrast to the rush of speed and wind just moments before. he brings the car to a smooth stop, the engine idling quietly.

the dashboards glow dims, casting long shadows across his face. without the road's distraction, everything feels more intense, the way your heart beats a little faster in the silence. he turns towards you slightly, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

his fingers curl around your thigh, a gentle tug that turns you towards him. the movement feels slow, charged with unspoken possibility. his face is barely visible in the moonlit interior, all angular shadows and dark eyes that seem to glitter with hidden intentions.

his hand moves higher on your thigh, his fingers splaying out possessively. he pulls you closer, so that you're sitting sideways in the seat, facing him. he unbuckles his seatbelt, allowing it to retract slowly, the clicking sound punctuating the heavy silence.

his seat creaks as he leans back, giving himself more room. the command "c'mere," falls from his lips like a gentle demand, his voice a low rumble in the darkness. his hand moves from your thigh to grip your hip, urging you to move, to straddle him in the confined space of the car.

you shift your weight, lifting yourself onto his lap so that you're sitting astride him. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer as his head rests against the headrest. his hands splay out on your lower back, holding you securely against him.

the leather of the seat creaks under the new position as you settle against him. his breath catches slightly at the feeling of you above him, his fingers pressing slightly harder against your back. in the dark, his eyes seem to burn with intensity, studying your face.

as you shift your position, your skirt hikes up your waist, bunched around your hips. you can feel the thin lace of your underwear and his sweats doing little to hide his growing hardness prodding against you. his hands give you a little squeeze, his hips bucking upward slightly.

he presses himself more snugly between your thighs. he can feel the lace of your damp underwear, and it makes him ache. his hands slide down to your thighs, urging them wider so that he can fit himself better between them.

with his hands on your thighs, he uses his leverage to push his sweatpants down just enough for his erection to spring free. the cool night air hits his sensitive skin, making him hiss softly. he chews on his bottom lip as he begins to rub himself against you.

his eyes meet yours in the dark, watching your face as he reaches to pull aside your underwear, giving himself better access. "god, you're so wet.." he groans softly, pressing against you.

a shiver runs through you as the cool air hits your newly exposed skin. you gasp softly, your fingers tightening on his shoulders as you feel the heat of him pressing insistently against your entrance. "mmm.." escapes your lips as you wiggle slightly, coating him with your arousal.

he swallows hard, his adam's apple bobbing as he looks down between your bodies. he hooks his arms under your thighs, lifting your legs higher around his waist. he rubs himself against you again, teasingly, "last chance to stop,"

with his hands under your thighs, you don't have much leverage, but you push down onto him as best you can, your entrance parting slightly around the head of his length. he groans at the sensation as he bottoms out to meet you. "jesus christ," he growls softly in your ear, his lips brushing against your neck. he uses his grip on you to lift you back up — just enough to line himself up properly, then lowers you slowly down his dick. you both groan at the tight fit, your bodies finally joined completely.

he pants heavily against your neck, his body shaking as he tries to hold back from thrusting up too hard whilst you adjust. his fingers digging into your soft skin possessively.

after a moment of stillness, he unhooks his arms from under your thighs, letting your legs rest on either side of him. he grabs your hips instead, his large hands spanning your waist as he begins to move you up and down, setting a steady pace.

you let out a soft moan as he starts moving you, the new position allowing him to thrust up into you more forcefully. each upward motion sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, your walls clenching around him tightly. "oh," you breathe out, your head falling against his shoulder.

he watches you intently, his eyes burning with a possessive fire as he listens to your moans and feels your body responding to his touch. a smug smirk spreads across his face and he lets out a mocking "yeah?" under his breath, clearly loving the effect he has on you.

"like that, don't you?" he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he adjusts his grip on your hips, pulling you down harder and faster onto him. he moves a hand to press on the bulge he was making in your lower tummy.

"look at you taking me so well," he murmurs, his eyes flicking down to where you're connected, watching as his thick shaft disappears inside of your gummy walls only to reappear coated in your wetness.

you can't help but let out a desperate whine at his words, feeling so full and used by him. the pressure on your stomach makes you clench around him, your inner walls fluttering as he continues to whisper dirty nothings to you.

"so, so tight," he growls approvingly, his hips snapping up to meet yours, driving his length deeper inside you. "i can feel you pulsing around me, ma,"

your cheeks flush deep scarlet at his vulgar praise, embarrassment and arousal warring within you. you try to roll your hips, seeking more friction, but he maintains his dominant rhythm, pinning you in place.

"nah, let me handle it," he chuckles darkly, giving your hip a sharp smack. "keep them pretty noises coming though," his commanding pace becomes relentless, each powerful thrust pushing you closer to the brink as he takes what he wants from your willing body.

your voice is lost in a string of incoherent moans and whimpers as he pounds into you, the sound of your slick filling the car and mixing with your desperate cries. tears of pleasure prick at the corners of your eyes as the pressure builds to an almost unbearable level inside you.

"fuck, you're close," he grunts, feeling your pussy begin to quiver and tighten around him. he leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers, "cum for me, baby,"

the vulgar command proves too much, shattering the last threads of your self-control. your back arches dramatically as ecstasy crashes through you, your pussy clamping down viciously on him in rhythm with your racing heart.

"there it is," he growls triumphantly, slamming into you through your orgasm, making it last longer as he hits that sensitive spot inside you. "look at you falling apart," he adds darkly, reaching around to tease your clit as you ride out your climax.

as you come down from the intense high, he continues to move inside you, his touch gentle yet insistent. "again," he murmurs, his fingers rubbing slow circles around your swollen bud, "i want another one before I finish,"

"mm.. no, I can't.." you protest weakly, but your body betrays you as your hips shift slightly, allowing him deeper. you bury your face against his shoulder once more, muffling your moans as the stimulation reignites the fire in your lower belly. "y-you're insatiable,"

he chuckles, his breath warm against your hair. "you love it," he corrects, his fingers never ceasing their gentle torture. another orgasm eventually crashes over you, this one just as intense as the last, your vision blurring as you sob against his shoulder.

he knows your body all too well.

©nxsturn

[bluejutdae]

Stray Kids + handjobs

Warnings: nsfw, roleplay, “mean” 2Min, the usual

Chan: he loves a good ol’ handjob, especially if you’re perked up on his lap, soft hands around his length. He always tries to be quiet, at first, biting his lips to avoid making noise, clenching his jaw on a particularly delicious up stroke, but you know him well by now, so you pull all the tricks you know to make him lose it and he can’t keep it quiet. His hips start trying to thrust up, stopped by your weight on him, and his hands grab your hips or your thighs, squeezing almost too much. When he comes, is with a choked moan, face hidden smushed on your tits.

Minho: so so so mean even when you’re pleasuring him. He pretends he is unaffected, your hands on his cock are almost an afterthought. His eyes are drawn to his phone, focused on reading something. You both know he isn’t actually reading, he just likes to rile you up, to see how long it takes you to make a complaining noise, a mean rebuttal, a pleading request - depending on your mood. The only clue that he’s just as affected as you are, are his ears, so so red. When he cums, he bites his lower lip, bunny teeth digging into the plush part. He kisses you, dirty and fiery, and then he tells you to clean him up 😏

Changbin: please have him naked and so pretty so pliable so delectable, sitting between your open legs in front of a mirror, his back to your chest. He starts sweating a little as soon as you put your hands on him. He likes to be jerked off slowly, softly. Pleasure builds up gently and it’s so intimate and so soft, until it’s not. Until the gentle stroking is not enough anymore, but he’s too worked up for anything faster, anything tighter. He whines and whines, trashing, legs kicking and hands trying to stop yours. A firm “tsk tsk” and his hands are off, fists clenching the sheets. He keeps staring into the mirror, watching your hands work his cock and his balls, a few tears fill his eyes and he comes with a sweet prolonged moan. He slumps, pitting even more weight on you, trusting you to hold him, and turns his head to kiss you and he’s so so sweet. God, sweet Bini boy makes me feral

Hyunjin: he loves when you help him with your hands but he can’t keep his hands for himself. He needs to undress you, needs to grope your tits, needs to put a hand into your panties and touch you. Handjobs with Hyune always end up in mutual masturbation, both panting and too close too warm too frantic to really put effort into what you’re doing. You end up grinding down on his fingers and he ends up rutting in your fist. It’s always the same story, and you love it any time…

Jisung: You said desperate whiny Jisung? Spit dripping from his mouth because he can’t even connect his brain to close his mouth? Fist loosely wrapped around yours to help your movement? Yes. He’d spit directly on his cock to make everything sloppier, messier, wetter. What he maybe loves the most is when, just after he cums, you keep jerking him off. He’s over sensitive but the pain-pleasure leaves a delicious electric feeling in his spine.

Felix: with him I see it either sweet and soft (cuddled on bed, hands reaching into his underwear just to make him feel good, breathy moans he leaves directly on your neck, trying to express how good you’re making him feel by leaving soft, wet kisses on your skin) or something a bit kinky (I can see him setting the camera so that it films him only from his chest up, starting the live and talking to Stays like you’re not currently squeezing even more lube on his head to make the slide a little easier. He talks loudly, puts on music to mask the filthy noises all that lube is making. His cheeks get a little red and he makes a joke about summer being insufferable, you twist your hand on his cock head a little too meanie and he tries to hide his groan behind a too-fake cough. When he’s too close, he pretends to drop something so he can bend and hide from the live for a moment, kissing you while he lets go and covers your hand in cum).

Seungmin: Seungmo loves roleplay, okay? He’s the mean Professor making you jerk him off for a better grade. He’s completely dressed, only his cock out of his clothes. He makes you kneel in front of him, making you almost taste him, but not letting you. You don’t deserve to put your mouth on him, not yet. He always tries (and fails) to appear unbothered, but the truth is that he’s too smitten with you to make it even seem real. Halfway through it, he helps you get on your feet because he needs to kiss you, he can’t cum if you don’t kiss him at least once.

Jeongin: semi public sex IS Yang Jeongin. He grew up in front of cameras, you can trust him to be aroused by the thought of cameras catching him. Too often, the adrenaline rush of a concert translates into arousal and it’s even more heightened by knowing that, if anyone would look too closely, they’ll see he’s hard in his clothes. As soon as he sees you, he kisses you and drags you to the closest hiding spot, he grabs your hands to put them on his bulge. When you laugh at him he pouts. It’s so funny to see him like that, all the blood leaving his brain to concentrate on his cock. “Don’t laugh at me” he says, but you laugh again cause he’s too cute too hot, but your hands are already unbuckling his belt and opening his jeans to fist him fast and see him lose a bit of control thanks to you.

[wlfchnlv3r]

Life is so good

mute best friend! Hyunjin x best friend! female reader

Synopsis: You and hyunjin, your mute best friend, were on vacation with other friends, what could change your relationship?

Word count: 2k

Warnings: fluff, smut, 🔞🔞!!!, best friends to lovers, foreplay! Enjoy

Note: I’m back, work literally killed me but I’m here and I wish you all a merry Christmas guys!

It’s already 3 am and you are scrolling through your phone in your room, It was peaceful, your own little bubble of isolation. You barely notice the shadow that crossed in front of the window until Hyunjin hopped through, landing in the room with

his usual quiet grace.

You aren’t surprise of his visit and just signs with your hand “no sleep?”.

Hyunjin caught your question for a moment before ignoring it and signing with his hands “What are you doing?” he sits on the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.

“Just scrolling some post on Instagram” you say lifting the bed sheets for him to come near you.

Your friend crawls into the bed next to you. The two of you move on autopilot, shifting closer to one another. He lifts his arm, and you don’t hesitate to snuggle up against him, your head resting against his chest. He pulls the covers over both of you, his other arm wrapping around your waist and holding you tight.

“You seem tired…” your voice is low.

He reaches up to run his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle, yet there’s a slight tension in the way he move, he lets out a soft exhale and signs, “Can’t sleep….”; After a few moments of silent he continues to move his hands “how was your date with that short guy…?”

You choked a laugh and whisper in his ear “boring- we watched some football and then i invented an excuse to return here” you admitted with a soft smile.

Hyunjin watches your lips as you speak, his eyes tracing over the movement of your mouth. The word “boring” seems to placate him a little bit. He brings his hand up, gently cupping your jawline, his thumb rubbing small circles against your skin.

Your friend signed “You didn’t like him”. It wasn’t a question, but a statement, a fact he knew already.

You let your body relax under his touch, closing your eyes and nodding.

He lets out a low, pleased hum at your answer, his hand still cupping your chin, tilting your head back to rest against his chest. For a while, he simply holds you like this, his thumb still tracing soothing patterns against your skin. There’s something possessive in his touch, like he’s reminding himself that you’re here, in his arms, and not with that other guy.

“Hyunjin?” You call out his name before continuing “have you ever been intimate with a girl…?” yes, he was your best friend but a part of you needed an answer to this question.

Hyunjin chest rises and falls against your back as he takes a deep breath, the question seeming to fluster him a little. For a moment, he doesn’t answer, just holds you tighter, like he’s trying to press the words out of himself. Then, almost reluctantly, he signs, “…Yes, once, some time ago”.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Your mind was already burning with jealousy.

He pauses for a long moment, his gaze still fixed on a point past your head. Finally, he signs, slowly, the words reluctant to leave him, “It didn’t mean anything.”

He swallows, his hand still tracing circles on your back, a gesture meant to soothe, either himself or you, he wasn’t sure which one.

You just nods slowly trying to process everything.

Hyunjin notices your reaction, or lack thereof. Despite the nonchalant tone of your nods, he can sense the unease, the insecurity hidden beneath your cool exterior. He moves suddenly, rolling you onto your back, so he’s pinning you beneath him. He hovers above you, his body enveloping you, his fingers moving quickly as he signs, “You don’t believe me?”

Your eyes widen and you sign “I didn’t said that, just wondering who this girl is.. i think”

Hyunjin huffs, annoyed that you aren’t accepting his word, but it’s a small victory, seeing you looking up at him like this. He lets out a sigh, his hand coming up to comb through your hair, his gaze fixed on yours.

He signs again, reluctantly, “She was… just a girl. Someone I met at a party. It was a long time ago, and I don’t remember her name anymore.”

“She knew sign language?” You sign immediately.

Your friend shakes his head, his fingers never stopping the soothing motion of playing with your hair. In the dim lighting of the room, his eyes seem almost dark, the pupils dilated. He swallows and signs again, his movements a little rougher this time, almost as if he was frustrated by the whole conversation “Does it matter? She was nobody.”

You were taken aback by his answer, she didn’t know sign language?… “But you were intimate with her- I mean-“ You started talking again but he cut you letting out an exasperated sigh, he lifts one of your hands, pressing it flat against his chest, his heart beating a steady, strong rhythm beneath your palm. Hyunjin signs, his movements sharp and clear, as if he was trying to make his point very clear, “I. Didn’t. Enjoy. It.”

You stared at him with a more relaxed expression.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, his eyes searching your face, trying to read your expression. Then, his hand slides down, cupping the side of your jaw, his thumb tracing the line of your bottom lip.

Hyunjin signs again, his movements softer this time, almost tender “The only one who matters… is you.”, then again, “Only. You.”

He moves, lowering himself against you, his body caging you beneath him, his hand still holding your face, his thumb running over your bottom lip again.

You shiver, you had to admit that in the last period you started seeing Hyunjin as more than… your usual best friend.

Hyunjin tilts your head back, exposing the column of your throat, his eyes zeroed in on the pulse point that fluttered wildly beneath your skin. His nose grazes your jawline, inhaling the scent that’s so distinctly you, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. His body is all hard planes and taut muscles, press against you from above, pinning you down, the heat radiating off of him almost feverish. He shifts against you, settling his hips between your legs, fitting them together like two puzzle pieces.

“Always you” he signs.

You smile at him, probably the most sincere smile you ever done, everything about this moment is making you want more and more.

Hyunjin watches your smile, his eyes tracing over the curve of your lips. It’s a good reaction, he thinks, although not nearly enough; He signs, “More”, and without warning he pressed his fingers on your jaw, forcing you to open your mouth.

As you gasp your friend takes advantage of it to claim your mouth, his lips devouring yours, his tongue delving in, tasting you, claiming you.

He swallows the sound you made, his hands roaming down your sides, his fingers digging into your hips, pinning you in place as his mouth continues to plunder yours.

You immediately close yours eyes, that’s the more you wanted.

Hyunjin doesn’t stop, his lips moving fiercely against yours, his tongue sweeping over every inch of your mouth. He can feel your body trembling beneath his, the soft sounds you’re making spurring him on, only adding fuel to the fire that’s burning inside him.

He breaks the kiss for a brief moment, just long enough to sign, “You taste like mine.”

You look directly into his eyes and signs “it tastes right to me”

Hyunjin huffs, the corners of his lips curving up in a half-smile at your response. He likes that, you agreeing, confirming his possessiveness over you.

He dips his head, his mouth attaching to the skin below your collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, his tongue leaving trails of heat in its wake.

You try not to make loud noises to let your other friends sleep but slowly you moan begin to be louder and louder.

Hyunjin can practically feel the way you’re holding back. He knows you’re trying to be quiet, to not give in too easily, and it only makes him more determined to break you. He continues his assault on your neck and collarbone, his hands slipping under the edge of your shirt, his fingers tracing the waistband of your panties.

You can’t help but whine, the desire burning inside of you at every touch.

His lips curve into a smile against your skin, feeling the way you’re starting to unravel in his hands.

Hyunjin slowly, torturously, moves lower, his mouth trailing a path down your body, until he’s leaving a trail of hickeys down your chest and stomach.

You are so sensitive to him, every kiss and every bite makes you squirm from pleasure.

He nips and kisses at the skin just above your panties, his hands running up and down your thighs, his touches firm but gentle at the same time, almost teasing. Hyunjin can feel the heat of your core so close to his mouth, and it’s taking all his self-control to not give in immediately.

“Pull- pull them off” your plea make him laugh a little.

He looks up at you, his eyes darkened in desire, his hands resting on the inside of your thighs, his fingers pressing against the sensitive skin there, parting your legs more.

He signs with one hand, his movements almost rough, “Perfect”.

He lows your panties and pull them aside before lifting your legs on his shoulder to have a better access to you, “So wet for me?” he signs.

You laugh a little at his sarcastic sign feeling his hot breaths against your core.

Hyunjin moans softly when his tongue touches your clit, the sound a deep rumble in his chest, the first time you’ve heard him make any noise that’s not signing. He slides his hands beneath your hips, lifting your hips up, pushing your legs further apart, his mouth moving against your folds savoring the moment.

You are already lost in pleasure, your lips parted and eyes locked into him, the way his tongue makes circular movement over your sensitive clit and penetrates your tiny hole make you shiver so bad.

He can feel how close you are, the way your body is tensing beneath his touch, the sounds you’re making growing more urgent, more desperate. He keeps going, his tongue swirling and swirling, bringing you to the edge and keeping you there, waiting for the moment when you’ll finally fall.

You hold onto to the bed sheets “hyunjin-“

He can feel the way you’re shaking, how hard you’re trying not to come undone just yet, and it only makes him more determined to push you over the edge. He lifts his head for a moment, his mouth and chin glistening with your slick, just long enough to sign to you again, “Cum for me” his fingers press into your hip, holding you in place, his eyes dark with lust, his voice a growled command.

You come undone with a loud moan as he watches you intently, his eyes taking in every reaction, every sound you make. He can see the way your body trembles, the way your eyes slide shut as you fall over the edge, and he swallows a growl of satisfaction, his tongue continuing to lick you, prolonging your orgasm until you’re practically begging for him to stop. He lifts his head, a small smirk on his face, and lifts himself up, his hands running up the length of your body, until he’s hovering over you, his eyes locked on yours.

You blush while catching some air, “come here, please”.

He leans down, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing slightly heavier than normal. He lifts one of his hands, his fingers brushing through your hair, an uncharacteristically gentle gesture from the normally stoic guy. He signs, his fingers moving slowly, “Say it again.”

You smile “I want you here, near me, Hyunjin”.

He huffs, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. He pulls back, letting his eyes roam over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your damp hair, the way you’re looking at him with a mixture of need and desire.

He signs, his movements steady and sure, “I’m never gonna let you go”.

You laugh a little “that’s a threat?”.

He signs “a promise”.

Taglist: @felixleftchickennugget @kiwininja35 @sweetpickledjins @slmnheart @elqivxstxr @catffeinexo-xx @multistancheck @justwonder113 @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @hello-stranger24 @raptorbait529 @cocofia143 @minniesverse @eastjonowhere

(comment to be added to the master list🎐)

[wolvietxt]

ᰔ unspoken !

↳ logan howlett x reader

laughter fades as you both slowly realize how close you've gotten. your faces are inches apart, your noses almost touching. the air between you is thick, electric, as if every breath carries a question. you can feel his breath, warm and steady against your skin, and for a moment, the entire world falls silent. the noise, the distractions, everything else just disappears, leaving only the two of you in this quiet, suspended moment.

logan doesn't move, his gaze locked on yours, searching. you can feel the weight of his presence, the tension that’s been building between you for weeks now. the tension that’s always been there, ever since you both first started spending time together. it’s always been there, but now it’s different. now it’s right in front of you, right on the edge of something new.

you try to steady your breathing, but it’s hard. it feels like your heart is beating louder than anything else, and it's impossible to think straight. your mind races with thoughts of what this means, of what could happen next, but you can't bring yourself to move. neither can he. you both hesitate, waiting for the other to close the gap, to make the first move, but neither of you is brave enough to take that step.

it’s a strange feeling, standing this close to him, so close that you can feel the heat of his body. your fingers twitch, aching to touch him, to close that last little bit of space between you. but you stay still, afraid of what might happen if you do. afraid of what might change.

logan shifts slightly, his jaw tightening, his eyes flickering away for a moment. you can see the internal struggle, the fight he’s having with himself. he doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence, but he doesn’t want to back away either. you can feel it, that tension in the air, the unspoken understanding between you both. you’ve been circling around each other for so long, never quite touching, never quite crossing that line. but now it’s here. now it’s right in front of you.

your fingers move before you can stop them, reaching out, brushing lightly against his arm. the touch is so subtle, so gentle, that you almost think it didn’t happen. but you feel the shiver that runs through his body, the slight flinch as if he wasn’t expecting it. his eyes snap back to yours, and for a moment, everything else falls away again. it’s just you and him, standing there, waiting. waiting for something.

he doesn’t speak. he doesn’t need to. you can see it in his eyes - the raw, open uncertainty, the vulnerability he usually keeps hidden beneath the tough exterior. it’s a side of him that’s rarely shown, but it’s there now, just as clear as the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. there’s a hunger in his gaze, but it’s not just physical. it’s something deeper, something quieter. something you’ve felt for so long, something you’ve both been avoiding.

you can’t take it anymore. you can’t stand the space between you, the unspoken words, the what-ifs. you close your eyes for just a moment, gathering the courage, and then you lean in. it’s slow, tentative at first, like you’re waiting for him to pull away, but he doesn’t. he’s still there, still close, and his breath hitches when you move even closer. you don’t know who moves first, but then, just as you’re about to close the distance completely, his lips are on yours.

it’s soft, hesitant at first, like neither of you wants to rush it, like you’re both savoring the moment, this fragile thing you’ve both been waiting for. his lips are warm, his stubble brushing against your skin as he moves, his hand slowly coming to rest against your waist, pulling you just a little bit closer. you can feel the roughness of his fingers through the fabric of your shirt, the steady rhythm of his pulse against yours. everything else fades away, all the noise, the thoughts, the questions - they all vanish. it’s just the two of you, finally, in this moment that feels like it’s been a lifetime in the making.

when you pull away, it’s barely an inch, but the silence between you is heavy, laden with everything that’s unsaid. you’re both breathless, both still caught in the aftershocks of the kiss, neither of you sure what to do next. you can feel the heat in your cheeks, the way your hands shake ever so slightly as you try to steady yourself. logan doesn’t speak at first. he just looks at you, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. there’s a mix of disbelief, relief, and something else in his gaze, something you can’t quite place.

finally, he clears his throat, a quiet sound, almost like he’s trying to shake off the moment. but it doesn’t quite work. not for either of you. you’re not sure if it’s the kiss or the way everything has changed between you both, but something in his touch makes your heart skip. the tension between you two has shifted, softened, and you realize with a strange certainty that this - this moment - was just the beginning.

before you can respond, he leans in again, this time with a bit more certainty, a bit more need. the kiss is deeper this time, his hand threading into your hair as he pulls you closer, his lips demanding but still tender, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. but you don’t want to slip away. you don’t want this moment to end. and for once, you let go of all the doubts, all the fears. it’s just the two of you, tangled together in something you’ve both been aching for.

when he pulls back this time, he doesn’t move far. his forehead rests gently against yours, and for a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, both of you trying to steady yourselves after the storm. he doesn’t speak for a while, but you don’t need him to. you feel it in the way his hand stays on your back, the way his thumb brushes gently over your skin. there’s something softer about him now, something more open, and you realize it’s the same for you.

"you know," he says quietly, his voice low but with a hint of something playful in it now, "that better not be the last time you do that." you can hear the faintest trace of a smirk in his words, and it’s enough to make your heart flutter, your stomach doing flips. 

you chuckle softly, your fingers grazing over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your touch. "i know it won’t be," you reply, your voice just as soft, just as filled with the warmth that’s suddenly blooming between you two. you don’t need to say anything else. not yet. because for the first time in what feels like forever, everything is right.

and for now, that’s enough.

ᰔ logan howlett : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun, @omen-keke, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd

@superlegend216, @mikaaki, @withasideofmeg, @samfunko, @aaronhotchnerlover

@qxuanii, @m1cky-y-y, @uncertified-doc, @cryingwta, @pvndomi

@marvelescvpe, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @misscrissfemmefatale, @ltristessedureratoujours, @meadow-field

@hazydespair, @stupid-little-birdie, @aoi_targaryen, @urlocallocachica, @person-005

@christinamadsen, @zaggprincess2, @lokixryss

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[azullumi]

"it's you hiding in limelight" ; aventurine

requested by anon — “can you do or already done pre-relationship aventurine headcanons? like what is he like before and how he warms up” premise — it takes a lot for him to trust someone. it’s a gentle and steady process; the fire burns slowly between you and him, and despite the uncertainty whether the flame is going to burn out or consume him in the end, he lets the warmth seep through the cracks of his soul. content tags and warnings — pairing: gender-neutral reader w/ aventurine | pre-relationship, fluff, a little word vomit, not proofread | wc: 0.7k ; headcanons

note from me — i was so conflicted while writing this,, and it doesn't help that i'm trying to figure out if my cat is pregnant or just fat...

It’s not easy to make AVENTURINE warm up.

He doesn’t trust anyone easily, seeing relationships as superficial, as something that is simply a give-and-take thing, a bet, a deal. He has quite a one-way view on relationships, only seeing it as something that would be beneficial to him—it’s not like he knows how to maintain such relationships either. He thinks that showering them with gifts, no matter how expensive, would make them stay, a key to securing loyalty and affection.

So when he finds himself slowly being drawn to you, being at ease whenever you’re around, as he initiates small talks and silly bets, he wouldn’t know how to break it down from there. You’re just so warm and easy to talk to, it’s comforting (like a gentle breeze). He simply keeps everyone at arm’s length, maintaining a careful distance, and yet, like a living paradox, he can feel intimately close at times to you—it’s his subtle flirting, consistent compliments, and often lingering touches.

He is hesitant in all of his bones, hard to grasp, complex and distant, but if you reach even for a little, he’ll let you hold him in your hands. He’s confusing; the thread of his words and actions are intertwined with each other but you can never find the meaning of it. It’s a heavy needlepoint of embroidery that can never be finished, a small part missing from the piece and you could never figure out what it is that you’re lacking. It’s not easy to tell if he sees you only as a friend or something more than that.

You need to be patient and persistent with him, understanding that he himself struggles with the idea of vulnerability; he fears that opening up to pain and disappointment, leaving him on his own in the end. However, over time, he eventually lowers his guard and allows himself to trust you, finding solace in your presence. When the two of you first met, his shoulders were always tense and he kept his emotions guarded behind a mask, but now, he lets go of what he carries even if it’s just for a bit, as long as it’s you he is with.

You can feel the distance closing in, the fine-drawn line of vulnerability and wariness seaming into one. You can almost touch the vanishing point between you and him, intertwining with each other, and you don’t fail to recognize the subtle shift in his actions, in his gestures, in everything about him and all that you knew.

It may be a small and mundane thing but his tendency to shower his “friends” with expensive gifts and asking to choose among which one that they would like—albeit he also does to you on some occasions—all contrasts with the simplicity of the tokens he gives you. He reserves a different kind of gesture for you, one that is laced with thoughtfulness and sincerity rather than the utter value of the gift itself.

Probably brought a bracelet one time and told you of it, but didn’t mention that it has a pair, a matching one, which he bought for himself (and never wore). He has it hidden in his drawers, amidst his precious items, only to take out from time to time to stare at it. It’s a secret he’ll forever take to his grave.

Your constant reassurance, gentleness, and kindness breaks down his defenses, the mask crumbling into unrecognizable pieces. He didn’t think he would trust someone this much, nor would he ever harbor such soft feelings—velveted affections, sweet sounds of laughter, benign words that buries itself in his chest, finding solitude in one another’s presence, basking in the warmth of it all.

Oh, to have someone see him beyond the walls he built, it scares him in some way—when you have forever listened to the chorus of condemns orchestrated by your mind, you’ll only think that you’re unlovable to anyone, that’s how it was for him, and yet to you, it comes easy as if he’s simply tangled threads that only needs to be unraveled carefully and gently. He didn’t know nor did he ever think that you'd see stars on his scars when he laid himself bare for you to see the marks that dusted his skin.

Aventurine feels like he could drown in the feeling. It’s a gentle tide that crawls to the shore and drags him along with the warm currents (the smell of blood is replaced with the taste of salt on his lips); a tender fire that burns slowly, and despite the uncertainty whether the flame is going to burn out or consume him, he’ll let the light in.

GRAH DRUM ROLLS PLEASE IM ANNOUNCING THE PRESENCE OF THE OUTSTANDING AND AMAZING FELI @dr-felitas (sometimes i type in your old user and wonder why it's not popping out and then i just go oh!) anyways, this is for you my fellow dry-talker npc,, i honestly find it cute that we're starting to adopt each other's mannerisms or texting language or pattern cause like i only started saying "right!?" (when i agree on something) because of you (back then i only say real or just nothing at all :D) and i think i began to use some of your vocabulary 😭. and somehow my ability to understand and read through typos are getting better all thanks to you 🔥🔥🔥 the world will end first before you even get to spell that word properly jkjk i love you with all of your typos, incoherent words, stupid autocorrect mwamwamwa (i say as if im im not the same) !! anyways you are a light in my life and you're one of the reasons why i still continue to pick up the pen and write !! you've been of great help and inspiration in my writings <33 without you, i probably wouldn't be able to get through the hell hole of last month, thank you. ily lots mwaa !!

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[revelboo]

Idk if you have seen this starscream or not but do you think can do transformers armada starscream x reader? I have a real soft spot for him. He deserves some love ❤️

I can try- my knowledge of Armada is a bit thin

Even If It Kills Me

Armada Starscream x Reader

• Helm tipping back as the sun drips through the leaves and dapples him in spots of warmth, he can almost relax out here, far from home. Nearby, he can hear Jetstorm, Runway, and Sonar splashing in the lake as they dart along the rocky shore. Knows the Autobots would probably not like it if they knew he was out alone with the Mini-Cons, but also that the three of them deserve some peace from the fighting. It’s Sonar tapping his ped that makes him look down and it doesn’t take the mini-con’s frantic hand gestures to realize that there’s only two of them. Runway is gone. Primus, it’s like having sparklings sometimes. “Show me,” he growls tiredly as Sonar and Jetstorm both point into the woods framing the clearing and the lake.

• Leaning across the engine to get at the intake manifold while trying to not drop anything inside the engine, the little beeping chirp from behind you almost makes you brain yourself on the hood. Like you need any more injuries, your face is still swollen and your split lip burns as you turn to look and do drop a tool into the engine, hearing it clanging. Because there’s a little robot just taller than you standing behind you, red visor glowing as it startles at the noise of the dropped tool. A kid in a costume? It looks real as you push yourself back and your feet hit the gravel. “Where’d you come from, buddy?” Because your house is well off the road. It’s not moving closer, but not retreating either, so you approach it. It’s not a costume, it can’t be. It’s too cannily made for that. You’d known robots were getting advanced, but why is it out here wandering around? It shies away when you try to touch it and you hold up your hands, palms out. “Okay. We’re good.”

• Not expecting it to cautiously reach out and press its palm to yours, head tipping as it chirps at you. “Hope you’re not a first gen terminator, buddy.” And then it’s carefully gripping your hand to play with your fingers and thumb, seeing how they move and you inhale, but its touch is shockingly gentle as it makes little beeping sounds to itself. It’s inquisitive as it plucks at your flannel shirt and then touches your hair. “Not a fan of personal space, huh?” Its head tips, visor flickering like it’s uncertain.

• Branches clawing at him as he moves through the woods, forcefully making a path, when he breaks free of the tree line, he freezes because he hasn’t realized he was so close to a human dwelling. And there’s a human in the yard right there standing in front of Runway as the mini-con chirps. And you and Runway both freeze as he crashes out of the tree line, Sonar and Jetstorm running toward their brother before stopping short when they notice the human. You’re just staring up at him and he knows he’s supposed to be hidden on this world and not be seen.

• There’s two more you sized robots, but you can’t tear your eyes from the giant red one scowling down at you. The little guys are cute, but this one? Are these his babies? Is he about to stomp you for messing with one of them? “Human,” he growls, taking a thunderous step forward and that’s it for your ability to deal with this nonsense. You throw up a hand at him and start speed walking for the house. Cause nope. No, thank you. You have enough problems without this too.

• You’re ignoring him? Venting raggedly, he strides after you and insinuates his ped between you and the door to your house. And you stare up at him, one eye squinting, the skin around it discolored. “If you let me go, I’ll pretend none of this ever happened, okay?” You say, little arms crossing. “You go do your giant robot, kaiju thing and I’ll go get drunk until I forget this. Everyone wins.” And you grin at him, wincing and darting your tongue out to touch your split lip. Those little injuries shouldn’t mean a thing to him. Except, they strike a chord and he hates it. Because he knows what it’s like to be someone else’s punching bag. You’re just a human, you mean nothing to him, but as Runway chirps up at him almost pleadingly, he bends to curl his servos around you. Or tries to, because reaching for you shatters your odd calm and there’s the fear he expected. And you bolt.

Next

Added a bitty Soundwave plush to my Soundwave Jeep. There’s a lot to do to get ready for Jeep Jam in May

[etheraltides]

Wind whispers ೄྀ࿐

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summarize: after arriving in Outer Banks without his dad, Rafe goes straight back to the only soft constant in his crazy life.

Warning(s): mention of death and drowning. It’s basically just fluff with a hint of angst

A/N: This is just a little something cause I was bored but Let me know if you’d like a full version of with smut, maybe ;) Feedback is always more than welcome!

The night was warm, the soft rustle of leaves outside mingling with the gentle hum of crickets. You lay beside Rafe in the quietness of your room, the moonlight casting a faint glow through the sheer curtains. His body was still trembling slightly from your shared moment, the air between you thick with something deeper than either of you was ready to admit.

You had always kept things light with Rafe. No strings, no commitments. It was easier that way – especially for him, the guy who had always kept his walls up, the one who never let anyone too close. But tonight, something was different, you could feel it.

He was quieter, his eyes distant, lost in a place you couldn’t reach as he stared at your white ceiling. His dad was dead, you had heard someone around the island say. The weight of it was written in every line of his body, and you could feel the heaviness of it sinking into him. He hadn’t said much since he showed up at your door. Just walked in, kissed you, and let it unfold like it always did. Without any pressure.

Now, though, as you ran your fingers through his shaved hair, something twisted deep inside you. A need, more than just physical. You wanted to reach him, wanted to hold him beyond the fleeting moments of passion. The quiet between you thickened, and you felt your heart race, your chest tightening as you tried to find the words. You didn’t want him to think he was alone now.

“I want you,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence. Rafe’s eyes flicked up to yours, dark and unreadable. You took a breath, your hand sliding down his chest, fingers tracing the lines of his abs, feeling the tension beneath his skin. “I want you with me, on me, in me.” The words slipped out, soft but laced with all the intensity you had kept hidden.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you like he was trying to make sense of what you had just said. His brows furrowed, his breathing a little more uneven. You wondered if you had pushed too far, crossed the unspoken boundary that had always existed between you.

But then he moved. His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in such a careful tender way, almost as if he was scared to hurt you. His gaze softened, something flickering behind the walls he always kept up. “I’m here,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost vulnerable.

Rafe always feared he’d damage you. Taint your softness with his anger, bring chaos to the peace he always felt coming from you. He was feeling selfish tonight.

You leaned into his touch, your lips brushing against his. It wasn’t just lust this time. It was more, something you both had avoided for too long. And now, in the dim light of your bedroom, with the weight of the world pressing down on him, you were both finally ready to admit it – even if neither of you knew exactly how.

His kiss deepened, slow and languid, as if he was savoring every second. His hands traced your skin, but it wasn’t rushed like usual. It was careful, almost as if he was afraid to lose you in the moment. And maybe, for the first time, he was.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Rafe muttered against your lips, his voice tight with something you hadn’t heard from him before—fear. “I feel like I’m drowning. He’s gone. Everyone’s gone.”

You pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around him. “Then let me hold you up,” you whispered. “I’m here, Rafe. I’ve always been here.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken feelings, but it was enough. For now, this moment was enough.

He wasn’t alone. He had you.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Please interact with the story. Your reblogs, likes and comments helps me stay motivated. Your support means the world! ^ྀི 🩵

[etheries1015]

Because I have favorism towards the fae myself (And I'm sorry this is suggestive)

Remember Malleus' voice line about touching his hornes? Now, reader just touches them whenever they can be reached (like when Malleus is using their lap as a pillow) or stroking his tail whenever it's wrapped around Reader. Without realizing it's doing things to him.

Oh my gosh. Don't apologize for suggestive content, I love that shit. Feed me more of it. Heuheuheuheu.

Feeding a Faes hidden desires

Featuring: Malleus Draconia <3

General warnings: Gender neutral reader

18+ / suggestive content minors please don't interact~

It was difficult for Malleus Draconia to open up to people, he had to be the face of pure perfection for the sake of his kingdom. Every action he took, every word he said, would reflect upon Briar Valley and put his position as a prince in either light of greatness, or foolishness. The former was not an option for Malleus Draconia. He was given the best of the best when it came to his studies and academics, except, unfortunately, sex ed.

He understood the bare minimum of course, for reproduction was important for keeping the bloodline of the Draconias strong. What he was not well versed in, however, was the feeling of lust that came with reproduction. He never knew it could feel so... dirty.

When he had agreed to allow you to touch his horns when you insisted, he had no clue what kind of...desires this would stir up in him without realizing.

You had asked the draconic fae to touch his horns and his tail, and he spent a few times urging you otherwise in fear of harming you in some way. Yet it did not take him very long to feel curious and begin to imagine how your hands would feel upon his horns and extremities, starting out purely out of curiosity and the desire to be closer to you.

The first time you touched his horns was in the comfort of the lounge, he bent over for you to touch and feel them freely before being interrupted by Sebeks outraged cries of blasphemy. Since the moment your soft fingertips pressed against the roughness of his obsidian horns, he felt his body shudder at the contact, and something in him he decided to ignore screamed in his mind that it was perhaps a...dangerous endeavor. He had managed to suppress himself from such thoughts and desires, even allowing you to (on occasion) touch his horns and tail at your request. Never for too long, for when the thoughts returned he made a quick excuse to end the session. He wanted to respect you and your soft touch- not sully the romantic gesture with lustful thoughts.

He was often searching for your touch in many different ways, in hugs, cuddles, gentle kisses, holding hands...yet a few months and almost a year, he could feel himself become far more greedier. Malleus would notice the slight changes in himself when you would reach up to grab hold of something on a shelf, the way your shirt rode up your stomach ever so slightly, the way your hands would draw circles around the title page to get a feel for the book, he almost felt himself envious of the piece of literature. He told himself not to lose control, to hold himself together like a proper gentlefae, allowing you to only touch his draconic features on the rare occasion he felt he could keep himself properly composed.

Yet now there you were, in your room in Ramshackle dorm, sitting upon the lap of your lover gently caressing his smooth black horns absentmindedly. It was a comfortable atmosphere for you, being held lovingly by your tall fae significant other in silence while pouring your love and affection into your little pets upon his horns. You muttered a "beautiful..." before leaning up slightly...

and placing a kiss upon his horns.

Malleus let out a sudden high-pitched "urgh!" of surprise, his tail squeezing your waist slightly. Your eyebrows raised in shock, pulling away to look at your now flushed lover, feeling a bit of...excitement from down below. He suddenly removed his tail from your waist and seemed to want to move away from you, until you pushed your body on top of his own, straddling his waist and feeling his arousal between your thighs.

"I-i'm-" He gulped and let out a low moan, his hands shaking hesitantly mid air, not certain where he should place them, "I'm sorry- this is incredibly unbecoming of a king-" You hushed him with a rushed kiss and shook your head, the kiss lasting only a moment prior to you pulling away face as flushed as his and forehead pressed against his own.

"It's natural," You comforted him, "Do you...like it when I touch your horns, Mal...?" You hesitated your inquiry, his response a simple and slow nod giving you confidence to move your hands back to his horns and begin to rub them intimately. You felt his body twitch below you and his tail wrapped itself around your thigh, voice trembling. You hadn't seen the fae prince so shaken up before, so uncertain, so vulnerable. Only in front of you would he allow himself to lose such control.

"Are you...are you certain? I haven't any...experience," He muttered against the crook of your neck, arms wrapping around your body and hugging you tightly as if to console himself.

"It's okay," you murmured, hands removing themselves from his horns much to his whining displeasure of the sudden warmth disappearing from them, before shuddering once more as your attention shifted to his tail. Your finger trailed the scales and you felt him twitch between your thighs through his pants as his excitement stirred with every touch you placed upon his extremities.

"I...want it too," You purred.

Malleus's desire gauge was now at 100%

and you had no idea what you had just gotten yourself into.

~~~~

Masterlist

[flowersforjude]

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐔𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Harwin Strong x Fem Targaryen!Reader 

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | A stolen morning spent with Ser Harwin.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2,036

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Sneaking around, slightly suggestive in some parts?, there’s always gotta be a little angst, but also fluff!

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | How has it taken me this long to notice how good this man is? It’s disgraceful really. @criminalamnesia has something similar to this so go check it out!

masterlist

A soft breeze was blowing through the open window of your chambers. Early morning light threaded through the thin curtains billowing in the gentle wind. You shifted slightly in bed, throwing an arm over your face to combat the sunlight. Sleep beckoned you back into its waiting embrace. 

The gods were cruel, however. Or, sweet, you really couldn’t decide. 

“Good morning.” A languid voice rumbles in greeting. Harwin trailed a hand up your bare shoulder, his delicate touch leaving chills in their wake. 

“Hmm,” you returned, willing your eyes to stay closed. If you even cracked them open a bit, there’d be no going back to sleep. You drew closer to his chest, pressing your face into the sheet that covered him. His extra warmth quickly pulled you back to slumber. Almost. 

Your lover, however, had different ideas. His hand on your shoulder roamed down your back, sliding under the thick cover you’d hoarded in the night. His touch was still gentle as he took to running his fingers up and down your spine. Hitting the ticklish spot right above your tailbone every time they wander lower. 

Face still hidden in his chest, you bit your lip to keep from giggling. He was relentless, though. Dragging his hand down once again, he allowed himself a generous feel of your rear. 

“Harwin!” You exclaimed, shooting your head up to meet his grinning face. 

“Good morning.” He said again, pulling you closer to him. He nudged your head to tilt up higher so he could press kisses to the underside of your jaw. 

Sighing, whether from pleasure or annoyance, no one knows. You tangle your fingers in his dark hair. “It is early.” You grumble as he moves lower to your neck. His lips were heavy against your skin. 

“Actually, Princess.” He replied, his hand going to your hair to angle your neck to be more open to him. “It's almost time for me to leave.” 

Truthfully, it was like this almost every morning you and Harwin spent together. Quiet spoken words, warm carasses, and sometimes a reenactment of the night before if there was time. The gods were surely used to the sight of you two tangled together in your bed, with the door to your chambers locked. It was moments like this that sustained you, both of you. Stolen from the rest of the kingdom, they were, but precious all the same. Something that was reserved just for the two of you without having to care about the rest of the people around you. 

“You don’t have to go.” You said casually, knowing deep down that wasn’t true. He always had to leave. Sneak out in the earliest hours of the morning to protect your secret. 

Eyes finally meeting his, you smiled sadly at him. Harwin returned it with a slightly more lighthearted one. He always tried to keep your spirits high in times like this. When the clock was ticking too fast for either of your comforts, racing against you for him to depart. 

“I do,” he countered. “I cannot be discovered here, or I’d lose my head. I’d lose you.” 

You rolled your eyes at his sentiment, but placed a kiss on his jaw. Telling him you knew, of course you did. He hummed as your lips met his skin. A deep thunder-like sound that never fails to send a thrill of excitement through you. “You’re forgetting the power I hold, my love. I’d talk my father down to a finger, perhaps. Unless he was having a bad day, then you’d be short of a hand.” You beamed up at him. 

“I trust your negotiation skills fully, Princess.” His fingers, still tangled in your hair, dug deeper, running his digits through the tresses of silver. 

You fought your eyes from dropping shut, his touch soothing your mind back to sleepiness. The cloak of dreams was very much welcome, but that was a disaster that needed to be avoided. You’d go to sleep, and Harwin would follow suit, and you’d be caught. Or you’d fall back asleep, and he’d leave without waking you. 

He’d done that only once before. Slipping out of your chambers without rousing you to say goodbye. You had been so angry at him for stealing your chance to see him off, for depriving you of one last kiss that you’d threatened to feed him to your dragon if he did it again. You would never actually do that, but your tongue was talented at running away from you when angry. And Harwin knew that, so you were always worried he’d escape like that again. 

One night, while tangled together after blissful pleasure, he’d admitted he tried to lure you back to sleep many times before with the soul intention of leaving once you were. An angry retort had been ready before he continued to say it was because he loathed seeing how crestfallen you looked when he had to part from you. He hated watching your giddy mood dissipate and be replaced by sadness. He would much rather prefer gazing at your peaceful expression as you sleep before leaving. 

You were quick to tell him your dark emotions were never aimed for him. Rather, they were reserved for the entire circumstances you both found yourselves in. Being so entirely enamored by each other but forced to hide your affections. 

You could not wed until Rhaenyra did. It would look unfavorably upon the heir if her younger sister took a husband before she did. So, while you loved Rhaenyra with your whole heart and would never wish to see her tapped in a marriage she did not want, you wished she would hurry up and choose someone. 

“Where are you posted today?” You asked, rolling yourself over so you sat atop him. The blankets pooled around your waist, so your naked chest was on full display for him. You saw him glance and then look away in the same second. Trying to remind himself that there was no time for that this morning. 

He cleared his throat before answering you. “I’ll be training new recruits in the yard for most of the day.” 

You grinned at him while scratching your nails lightly down his chest. “I suppose I’ll have to wander by the training yard then.” You said coyly. “Many times.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to try harder to remain focused with the beautiful princess passing through so often.” His arm came to loop around your waist, pulling you a little higher on his lap. His fingers smoothed over your hips as he watched you raise your arms above your head, stretching the tiredness from them. 

“I should speak with my father about taking you as my sworn sword.” You told him. “I’ve been thinking about it for some time now.” 

“You wish to be accompanied by me every day?” He questioned, sitting up while still holding you to him. 

Confusion colored your expression. “Do you not wish for it?” 

“That is not the issue,” he said. “If the King happens to agree, you will not be able to request a different guard simply because you’re crossed with me.” He flashed a bright smile at you. 

“I only did that once,” you protested. 

He laughed then, a hearty sound that you’d grown to adore. “Because I forgot the strawberry pastries you requested before I came to your chamber that night.” 

“I was looking forward to them.” You grumbled, ducking your head down. “And in any case, I came to regret that decision very quickly. Ser Brune was dreadfully boring.” 

Harwin laughed again, and moved your head up to look at him. “Speak with the King, love. If he agrees, then I’d happily spend the rest of my days never leaving your side.” 

Before you could say anything in return, he wound his arms around you, pulling you to lay on him as he sank back into the bed. Both his arms stayed wrapped around you, successfully holding you to him. Letting your head fall to the crook of his neck, you sighed contently. 

“And if he does not, then we’ll just have to hasten your sister along in her search for a husband.” He spoke, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. “So then we would finally be allowed to wed.” 

“Rhyeanra will likely remain unwed for the rest of her days.” You sighed. “I don’t think there will be a match waiting in the wings anytime soon.” 

“I’m sure you could…persuade her. You can be quite terrifying when it suits you, Princess.”

Gasping as if offended, you shift to meet his eyes. “You are unbearable.” You accused, leaning down towards his face. Your silver hair concealed you both from the outside world and the bothersome sun. 

“Am I now?” He asked with a smirk, brushing his nose along yours. 

“Terribly so.” You teased before leaning the rest of the way down and capturing his lips. 

Sweetness erupted behind your lips just as it did every time you kissed him. The intoxicating feeling lasted all of a few seconds before an alarming knock came from the door. 

The frantic knock was accompanied by your handmaiden’s worried voice. “Princess! Are you awake?” She called from outside. 

You quickly sat up, taking the sheets to cover your very naked body, before looking down at Harwin, who was also very naked. In your bed.

“Princess, are you in there?” Your handmaiden spoke again. The concern was raised in her voice. You could only imagine how the situation looked. Your door locked, you not answering, and no guard in sight outside your chambers. She was likely thinking the worst. 

You tossed the sheet at Harwin, rushing over to your wardrobe to yank out a nightgown. As you pulled the garment over your head, he rose and began hastily collecting his clothes and armor strewn across the floor from the night before. 

“Yes, Seanna!” You called to your handmaiden, helping Harwin haphazardly button his shirt.  

“You must go.” You urged while he attempted to place his armor on without fastening anything. 

“This damn, I am trying.” He muttered, nearly tripping over his boots, still on the floor in his haste. You cringed as his bracer slid from his arm, almost clattering to the stone floor. He caught it just as it fell, though. 

“Princess, are you alright?” Seanna asked, knocking on the door once again. 

“Yes, just a moment.” You yelled, trying to mask the nervousness in your voice. You gathered his boots and remaining armor as you herded him to the secret passageway hidden in the wall behind your dressing screen. Jerking the concealed door open, you all but pushed Harwin in. 

Shoving his armor and boots into his arms, you noticed the wide smile he was directing at you. “Yes?” You questioned disbelievingly.

“You seem a little nervous, love.” 

Pushing his shoulders to urge him on, you rolled your eyes at his audacity. “Just go!” You chastise him with a traitorous laugh sounding behind your words. 

He chuckled while surging forward to press a lingering kiss to your lips. With that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the passage. You quickly put the door to rights and readjusted the dressing screen. Running a hand through your hair, you finally open your door for your handmaiden. 

She all but rushed into the room. “I was starting to think the worst, your Highness.” She got to her duties right away. Going to the wardrobe to retrieve a dress for the day. “Who was meant to be on guard last night, Princess? There was no one outside.” 

“There wasn’t?” You asked in mock surprise. 

“Yes, Princess.” Seanna looked at you skeptically. 

“Oh!” You exclaimed as if you just remembered something. “Ser Harwin was on duty last night. I’m sure they are just doing shift chances early this morning.” 

“I’m sure.” Your handmaiden agreed with more skepticism. She was good enough to let the matter drop, though. 

Once she is done putting your hair into a braided style, she helps pull your dress over your undergarments. Stringing a necklace around your neck, she smirks at you in the mirror. 

“His cloak is under your bed, your Highness.”

Expect a lot more of this man from me. He's on my list now!

[deakyjoe]

Tap Out

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Reader (gender neutral)

Category: smut

Summary: You know just how to make Logan feel better after a bad day.

Warnings: 18+, smut, m receiving oral, face fucking, hurt/comfort (??), Logan has a bad day, you cheer him up by sucking his dick, Logan calls reader “bub”, let me know if I missed anything

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: he got to me…

Please consider buying me a coffee :)

Logan had been having a bad day. You could tell by the way he was scowling more than usual. He'd barely brightened up when Rogue had joined the two of you for dinner and didn't seem overly enthused when you'd told him where the hidden stash of liquor was kept.

Which meant he was having a worse day than usual.

Perpetually grumpy, you'd grown used to his ways. It was one of the many things you loved about him, in fact. But this was something else. So once it had gotten to the point when the sun had set, all of the students had gone back to their rooms for the night, the rest of the professors in the mansion had gone off to do their own things for the remainder of the evening, and he was still clearly unhappy, you just tapped him on the shoulder.

He glanced at you with a funny look, frowning down at where your fingers had skated across his skin. "What was that?"

"That's me tapping you out for the day. Let's go to bed." You offered him your hand, palm up.

"It's only nine." Logan responded, taking your hand in his anyway.

You nodded. "Yes. So? You don't want to go to bed with me?"

He scoffed. "You make a compelling argument, bub."

So he let you drag him back to your shared bedroom, where you planned to do everything in your power to make his day better. Even if that improvement was only slight. And you knew exactly what to do.

Your bedroom door was barely locked before you were pushing Logan to stand in the centre of the room and you were sinking down to your knees in front of him. Your hands were unbuckling his belt before he'd even had the chance to realise what was happening.

There was a short pause once his fly was unzipped as you looked up at him to confirm that what you were doing was okay. Luckily for you, Logan was almost always in the mood for this.

"Go ahead." He rasped, tucking a finger under your chin and running a thumb along your bottom lip. "Always so pretty on your knees for me."

Suppressing a giggle, you used the tip of your finger to stroke the length of him through the briefs he was wearing, wanting to tease him a little as well as get him hard before you even really touched him. He twitched through the fabric. You bit the inside of your cheek to hide a smile.

You pressed a little harder with the heel of your hand, feeling him grow hard within the confines of his underwear. Sometimes he was just really easy to rile up and you were glad that this was one of those times.

You wasted no time in pulling his briefs and pants down, just to his mid thighs to give you easy access, and wrapped your hand around the base of him. You smiled widely when he let out a hiss at the contact.

"Go easy on me, bub. Been a long day." He mumbled, smoothing a warm palm over the top of your head.

"Funny..." You chimed, licking a long stripe along the vein that adorned the underside of his cock. "...I was about to tell you that you don't need to be gentle with me tonight."

"Is that right?" He chuckled lowly, groaning when you placed a kiss on the head of him.

"Mhm." You hummed, sucking his tip into your mouth for a moment before letting it go with a quiet pop. "Can go with our usual system, yeah?"

Logan knew what you meant - the rules and boundaries you'd both set out at the beginning of your relationship. There was a set of signals and words you both used to let the other know how you were feeling. It worked well in situations like this, ones where you wouldn't really be able to talk properly.

"Alright." He agreed, grasping either side of your head in preparation to hold you in place while he had his way with you.

You licked the palm of your hand, pumping his cock a few times to give it some lubrication before you got started. "Ready?"

"Always ready for you, bub."

You liked when he said things like that, the rare times he verbalised his affection. Logan tended to be more physical when it came to showing you how he felt. So the few occasions he said something even somewhat meaningful, you made sure to always cling onto it.

You opened your mouth, letting your jaw go slack and your tongue hang out over your lower lip just a little, and gave him the smallest of nods to let him know he was good to go.

Logan didn't let any time go to waste before he was easing his pelvis forward and pushing his cock past your lips and into the warm and wet confines of your mouth. It was always a heavenly feeling and he never bothered holding back the groan that would rumble in his chest in response. He wanted you to know how good it felt.

You let out your own moan at the taste of his cock in your mouth, the skin velvety on your tongue. Blow jobs had never been fun until you'd met Logan. Now it was one of your favourite activities.

His hold on the sides of your head tightened as he started a steady pace of thrusting in and out of your mouth. You made sure to breathe carefully through your nose as he took control of your mouth, saliva building up on the corners of your lips as his cock became more and more slick with it.

Logan was losing himself in the situation. How could such a pretty mouth be ruined so quickly by you taking him so easily? It was sinful. He liked to watch the length of himself disappear in and out of the cavern of your mouth, flicking his eyes upwards to meet yours every few moments. He always found you already watching him, absorbing every minor reaction he gave.

You moaned around him, the vibration reaching his stomach and causing him to rut forward even harder. That had his tip hitting the back of your throat, the squeeze of it around him was delicious. He heard, and felt, you gag slightly as tears built in your eyes. But when you gave no indication of him stopping, he let himself continue with that level of force.

The wet sounds of your lips around his dick, sliding up and down the length of it as he moved in and out of your mouth, rattled around Logan’s brain. His teeth clenched together, muscle ticking in his jaw. The noises were lewd and showcased how unforgiving his thrusts were. He didn’t know how much longer he would last, the weight of a bad day combined with the ecstasy of your mouth would lead to him coming across your tongue a lot quicker than usual.

But just as Logan could feel himself crawling towards that edge, only a few more harsh bucks before the end, he felt a couple of solid taps against his thigh.

He immediately pulled himself out of your mouth and looked down at you. Cupping your cheeks in his large hands, his thumbs swiped over your skin gently. "You okay?"

You grinned up at him, eyes creased in joy and saliva dribbling down your chin. "Yep! Just need a second to breathe."

Logan huffed in amusement at your apparent sheer delight, a string of spit connecting your lips to the tip of his dick as you continued to pump him in your hand whilst giving your mouth a break. "You're something else..."

"It's why you love me." You mumbled, giving a tentative lick to his tip as you took deep breaths through your nose.

He stared down at you. It was true. He did love you. But he'd never said it out loud. “One of the reasons.”

You tried not to react too obviously at his acknowledgement of that fact as you looked up at him again with a bright smile. "Wanna keep fucking my throat?"

The sight of your face between his hands, chin glistening wet, and your pupils blown had Logan’s cock twitching in anticipation again. So he didn’t even need to verbally agree as he pushed himself back into your awaiting mouth and got back to work. He was brutal, even more ruthless than he had been previously, but kept a close eye on you to make sure you were okay.

It didn’t take him long before he was hitting that precipice again. And with one last thrust forward that had him burying himself deep in the tightness of your throat, he spilled himself and filled your mouth with his cum. Ropes of it spurted out of him and onto your tongue.

You moaned happily at the taste of it, eyes closing as you gave him a few more gentle sucks to finish him off before pulling away and letting him drop out of your mouth.

Logan stood above you, panting and waiting for you to say something. You only sent him the same luminous smile you had before. He offered a hand to help you up which you gratefully accepted and pulled you in for a searing kiss as soon as you were stood.

You broke away from him briefly to mutter a question against his lips. “Do you want to talk about whatever’s been bothering you?”

He shook his head. “No, because it was nothing a little of you couldn’t fix.”

You hummed at that, glad he was feeling better. “Come on, let’s actually go to bed.”

Logan was only too eager to follow you.

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I , Part II , Part III , Part IV, Part V ,Part VI, Part VII , Part VIII

Warning/themes : slight smut, eating out , submissive Vi? fluff, mentions of death, breakup, a lot of angst

Word count : 5.2k

The sunlight peeked through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. Soft beams of light brushed against your eyelids, urging you to wake, though the true warmth came from the arm draped around your waist. Vi’s arm. Her touch radiated a soothing heat that sent shivers up your spine, a perfect contradiction—toughness softened by care. You stirred slightly, careful not to disturb her as you let yourself savor the moment. Slowly turning to face her, your gaze fell on her features. Relaxed, unguarded. Her usually sharp eyes were hidden behind thick lashes, her expression softened by sleep. She was stunning like this—her wild strength quieted in a way only you got to see. A tender smile tugged at your lips as flashes of last night filled your mind. It had been perfect, raw, and real. It had reminded you what safety felt like in another person’s arms. And yet, beneath that warmth, there was the weight of your secret. Was it selfish to want to stay? To hold onto this joy you’d found? Maybe. But after everything, didn’t you deserve this? The guilt crept back in anyway. You knew the clock was ticking. You’d either have to tell her the truth… or walk away before the truth could destroy her. Lost in thought, your fingers brushed gently over her cheek, tracing her jawline. She stirred at your touch, shifting closer, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her lashes fluttered, and when her eyes opened, the sight of you brought a smile to her face.

“Morning, stranger,” you teased softly, the words almost catching in your throat as her sleepy gaze pulled you in.

“Morning,” she murmured, her voice husky and warm, making your heart stutter. She tightened her hold on you, pulling you closer, skin against skin.

You felt a rush of heat as your bare body pressed against hers, every inch of her setting you alight in ways that should’ve been illegal. Still, you fought to keep your head clear, though it wasn’t easy when Vi was looking at you like that—like you were the only thing in the world.

“How’d you sleep?” you asked, your voice soft but unsteady.

Her grin was lazy as she tilted her head into the pillow, never taking her eyes off you. “Like a rock. Haven’t felt this peaceful in… forever.” She wasn’t shy about her feelings, and that honesty made something ache in you.

You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “Yeah. Me too,” you whispered.

Her lips curved slightly as you leaned closer, pressing your nose to hers in a playful touch. She chuckled quietly, her fingers brushing along your spine. This was everything, you thought, in that moment.

No. You couldn’t lose this. You wouldn’t. You’d figure out what to do about your secret later. But for now, you pressed another kiss to her lips and let yourself sink deeper into this fragile happiness, as if it could last forever.

The words slipped out before you could stop them. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, the sound barely cutting through the gentle rush of the shower’s water. You hesitated, searching for the right way to explain yourself. “For earlier... I didn’t mean to shut you out.”

Vi’s hands, which had been tracing lazy patterns on your hips, stilled. She tilted her head, her eyes searching your face as if to make sense of what you were saying. You felt the heat of her gaze even through the cascade of water dripping down your skin.

“I just... I didn’t know how to bring you into it,” you continued, swallowing hard. “I needed to handle it on my own. I didn’t want you to think I was ignoring you, or worse, that I didn’t want you.” Your voice cracked on the last part, the vulnerability in your words catching up to you. You looked up into her eyes, feeling that all-too-familiar lump rise in your throat. “The truth is...” Your fingers brushed against her face, sweeping wet strands of pink hair away from her eyes. “Every second I spent without you, you were all I could think about. All I wanted was to be here—with you.”

Her expression softened, the tension in her shoulders melting away like ice thawing under the sun. She let out a soft exhale, like she had been holding her breath without realizing it.

“I understand,” she finally said, her voice low but steady. “Sometimes, you gotta chase your own monsters. But,” she added, her tone firmer now, “if we’re doing this, I need you to know you don’t have to fight them alone. You have me now. You’re not alone anymore.”

She pressed a kiss to your forehead, warm and grounding. The gesture made your chest ache, equal parts love and guilt.

“I know,” you whispered. “I'll tell you once I sort things out. I promise.” The words spilled from your lips, a promise that felt like both a lifeline and a noose.

Vi studied you for a moment longer, as if gauging whether or not to believe you. Then, her lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Good,” she murmured, brushing her nose against yours before planting a soft kiss on your lips. Then she stepped back slightly, her hands trailing over your waist. “I’m starving,” she said with a playful grin, her teeth grazing her bottom lip as she looked at you.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “Shower first,” you countered, grabbing the edge of the blanket you had draped around you. Before you could fully wrap yourself, Vi’s hand shot out, tugging the fabric loose. Her grin widened as she let her eyes roam over your bare body without shame.

“You don’t need that in the shower,” she teased, her voice dropping slightly.

“Asshole,” you muttered, turning your back to her, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. You felt her gaze linger on you, heavy and unyielding as you stepped into the shower.

The water was hot, almost scalding, but the sensation was drowned out the moment Vi slipped in behind you. Her body pressed firmly against yours, her hands finding your waist again as her lips began trailing soft kisses along the curve of your neck.

“Vi,” you whispered, your voice shaky but steady enough to be a warning.

She hummed against your skin, her grip tightening as she murmured, “Just let me.”

You reached for the soap, a playful smirk curving your lips. “Let me help,” you said, turning around to face her.

Her lips quirked up, but she didn’t argue, placing her hands on the wall of the shower and letting you take the lead. You ran the soap along her shoulders first, marveling at the strength beneath her skin. As your hands traveled lower, they lingered over her tattoos, tracing each intricate line with quiet admiration.

“You’re beautiful,” you said softly, almost absentmindedly, your fingers moving down to the small of her back.

Vi glanced over her shoulder, the smile on her lips softer this time. “You’re just saying that because I’m naked,” she teased.

You laughed quietly, but your reply was earnest. “No, Vi. I mean it.”

Your arms slipped around her, drawing her closer as you lathered the soap along her collarbone and shoulders. The water rinsed away the suds, leaving nothing but her soft skin beneath your touch. Standing on your toes, you pressed a kiss to her neck, your lips finding that spot just beneath her jaw that made her shiver. Her breathing hitched when your hands moved lower, brushing over her breasts. You massaged her gently, your thumb circling her nipple. A low sound escaped her lips, barely audible over the shower’s steady . Without breaking the rhythm of your movements, your hand slipped between her thighs. She gasped, her hips instinctively shifting forward as your fingers glided through her wetness. You found her clit easily, the slick heat of her core guiding you, and began to massage slow circles that had her trembling against you.

“Fuck,” she moaned, her voice deep and raspy. One of her hands braced against the shower wall, while the other reached back, gripping your hip for support.

Her breathing grew heavier as you continued, her moans growing louder with every movement of your hand. When you leaned up to whisper in her ear, your voice was a husky murmur. “Let me taste you.”

She looked at you, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was as much a “yes” as it was an invitation to take everything she was willing to give. Your heart pounded as you sank to your knees, the water cascading over both of you as your lips trailed down her stomach. She watched you, her darkened gaze heavy with desire, her chest rising and falling rapidly as anticipation built. Your tongue slid over her wetness, slow and deliberate, drawing out each movement as if savoring her taste. Vi's head tilted back against the tiled wall of the shower, and a soft groan escaped her lips. The water poured over her skin, mingling with the heat that radiated from her, steam filling the space around you. Her fingers tangled in your damp hair, tugging just enough to show she wanted more-no, needed more.

"You're driving me crazy," she whispered, her voice strained with desire, thick and breathless. That was all the encouragement you needed. Your hands gripped her thighs, firm yet soft, pulling her closer as you explored her with your tongue, dipping lower, deeper, tasting her as she came undone above you. Every moan, every quiet whimper from her made your pulse race, igniting a fire in your chest that only she co rause.

"Fuck," she groaned, her hips instinctively grinding toward your mouth, "Don't stop."

You hummed against her, the vibration making her shiver. You took your time, letting your tongue trace every sensitive spot, every inch of her that made her shudder. You wanted her to know that she wasn't just safe with you - but utterly worshipped. One of your hands moved from her thigh, finding her clit with practiced precision. The light brush of your fingers against her was enough to make her legs tremble. She pressed a hand harder against the wall to steady herself, her breathing uneven. Her wetness dripped onto your tongue as you worked her over, the taste of her more intoxicating with every stroke, every flick, every press , she was delicious. Your fingers picked up pace, moving against her clit in time with the thrusts of your tongue. Vi's body started to tense, her moans turning louder, rawer, echoing in the small space.

"Right there," she gasped, voice breaking. Her free hand gripped tighter in your hair, the pressure grounding you, urging you on. "Oh my god-, right there." Her hips bucked against your face as she lost control, her entire body trembling under the build-up of tension. She was close-you could feel it in the way she started to unravel, her muscles tightening beneath your hands.

"Look at you," you whispered against her, your voice low and teasing but filled with admiration. "You're so perfect when you let go for me."

That seemed to push her over the edge. Her legs nearly buckled as the first wave hit, her back arching, her breaths shallow and uneven. "Oh shit— oh fuck," she moaned, louder now, fully giving in to the pleasure you'd built up inside her. You didn't stop, riding the crest of her orgasm with her, tongue still teasing, fingers still massaging until she was trembling, her body wracked with wave after wave. Her cries became softer but no less intense, her hand pulling you closer as if afraid you'd stop too soon.

Finally, she let out a shuddering breath, her body slumping against the wall, spent but glowing. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, and when her gaze met yours, it was soft, filled with something beyond lust-something raw and tender.

You stood, kissing her stomach, her collarbone, her lips, until you were face to face again, her arms instinctively wrapping around your waist.

She chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. " You might've ruined me for breakfast."

You laughed, the sound filling the steam-heavy shower, your foreheads resting together as the water poured around you. For now, it felt like the outside world couldn't touch you. Only Vi mattered, only this.

And maybe, just for a little longer, you'd let yourself believe it could stay that way.

“Are you sure that’s the right way to do it?” you giggled softly, watching Vi wrestle with something unfamiliar in the kitchen. Her sleeves were rolled up, her brows furrowed in the most endearing concentration.

“Shhh, don’t underestimate my abilities,” she shot back with a grin, deflecting your playful jab as she kept working.

“Okay, my bad,” you surrendered, sliding into the chair by the counter, eyes trailing her every movement. “But… I still think I’m the better cook,” you teased with a smirk, unable to resist.

Vi paused just briefly, arching a brow in mock disdain. “Well, yeah,” she fired back, the sarcasm rich in her voice. “I didn’t exactly hone my culinary skills in prison. So, let me enjoy the process, alright?”

Her words hit a nerve you weren’t ready for. Your laughter faltered for just a moment as your gaze softened. Vi hadn’t noticed, not yet. She was too focused on stirring, measuring, creating—perhaps even distracting herself. But you noticed. You always did. She was just 14, torn from everything she knew and locked away in a cold, unfeeling cell for eight years. Eight years of surviving when most people would’ve shattered under the weight of it all. And yet… here she was, standing before you, kind, patient, a walking testament to everything she could’ve lost but somehow chose to preserve. How? How did she do it? You swallowed hard, caught in the swirling storm of your thoughts.

“Hey…” her voice broke through the haze. She wasn’t looking at you yet, but she must have felt your silence hanging too heavy. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied. Or maybe it wasn’t a lie. “I just—” You hesitated, biting your lip. You weren’t sure why you let yourself ask, but once the words started tumbling out, you couldn’t stop them. “How was it? Being in prison for so long, and so young? I mean, you don’t have to answer—”

Vi’s hands froze over the pan for just a moment before she sucked in a quiet breath and forced her focus back on the food. “It was… horrible,” she admitted softly. “When I first got there, I thought—I don’t know what I thought. I was scared. Really scared. But I couldn’t show it. You can’t, you know?” She paused, stirring again with a kind of restless energy. “I don’t even know how I got through eight years. Maybe hope? I think there was this… tiny sliver of hope that Powder was still out there. That kept me going. I’d lie awake every night thinking about her.”

Your chest tightened. Hope. How much of it still lingered inside her, after all that time? Her hope was rooted in the past. In something you now knew. Something you hid.

“Powder is your sister, right?” The question left your lips so quietly, you weren’t sure if it had been meant for her or just the silence hanging between you both.

“She was…” Vi answered, the weight of those words palpable as they fell from her lips. Her breath caught briefly before she pushed through it, masking her hurt with a deep inhale. But you could feel it. You could always feel it with her, the kind of pain that lingered even in the moments she tried to tuck it away. And guilt slammed into you like a tidal wave. You shouldn’t have asked. How could you look at her and listen to the ache in her voice, knowing what you knew? Knowing that her sister wasn’t a ghost but a nightmare waiting just around the corner? You were selfish. Keeping this from her—keeping secrets so you could hold on to this, to her—was cruel in ways you didn’t know how to face.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, the words tumbling out before you could think to stop them.

“For what?” she asked, glancing at you, that teasing spark back as her fingers brushed against your cheek, grounding you. You hated how much comfort her touch brought you, how undeserving you felt of it.

“For what happened to you,” you lied again, hiding the truth behind an apology that wasn’t fully yours to give.

Vi’s smile returned, a small one that didn’t reach her eyes this time. She let it slide, wordlessly plating the food she’d prepared and handing a dish to you. “I really hope this won’t kill you,” she quipped with an almost-laugh, always using humor to keep herself afloat. “I kinda like having you around.”

“Kinda?” you scoffed, lightly smacking her shoulder, feeling the warmth in her laugh as it echoed in the kitchen.

Sitting down at the table, the two of you found a kind of peace again, talking about everything and nothing. You looked at her as she spoke, losing yourself in the familiarity of it. This felt right. Safe. It felt like something you hadn’t had in a long, long time. Home.

“Wait—” You paused mid-bite, narrowing your eyes playfully. “This… actually isn’t that bad.”

“I’ll take that as a—”

But whatever she was about to say never came, cut off by the sudden, sharp knock at the door. You froze. She did too.

“Waiting for someone?” Vi asked cautiously, setting her fork down and standing to her feet.

“No,” you whispered, confused, heart pounding for reasons you didn’t yet understand.

The second knock came faster, louder this time. You stood, glancing at Vi as she moved to follow you. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to stop, to leave it, to turn back. But you didn’t. With shaking fingers, you undid the lock and opened the door.You froze. Air left your lungs like you’d been struck.

“Hey,” a voice rasped, rough around the edges and too real to belong to any memory.

Your world tilted. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. The figure standing before you—this couldn’t be.

Ellie. You couldn’t speak. You just stood there, frozen in the doorway, staring at her like she was a ghost brought to life. But she wasn’t a ghost. She was real. Too real. You could see the way her short auburn hair was tied into a half-bun, the strands still messy, like she hadn’t slept. You saw the faint freckles splattered across her face, the ones you used to know so well, the ones you’d trace absentmindedly on quiet nights. Her green eyes—they were different now. Duller, somehow. A little harder. But they were still hers.Ellie was right there, standing only a few feet away, and it felt like the air had been punched out of you.

“Y/N…” Her voice cracked as she said your name, breaking the thick, suffocating silence that hung in the doorway. She took a tentative step forward like she didn’t know whether to reach for you or run from the look on your face. Vi shifted behind you, her presence a steady weight, but Ellie didn’t acknowledge her. It was like you were the only person she saw. Your body moved before you even registered it. You stepped back—one, two, three steps—putting more distance between you and her as though the space would shield you from the overwhelming wave of emotions surging inside you. Anger rose to the surface, burning hotter than the shock. Anger so fierce it drowned out everything else.How dare she? How dare she show up here? After all this time. After what she did. After you clawed your way out of the wreckage she left behind and built a life—your life. How could she think she had the right to show up and tear it all apart? Again.

“Get out,” you hissed, the words sharp and raw as they escaped your throat. You could feel your composure slipping through your fingers like sand. “I’m not going to say it again.” Your voice cracked slightly, but you took a step forward this time, closing the distance just enough to let her know you meant every word.

Ellie didn’t flinch. Not really. But you saw her swallow hard, her jaw tightening before her lips parted, trembling. “I will,” she said quickly, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “I promise, okay? I’ll leave. Just… just let me talk to you first.”

The bitter laugh that broke from your chest surprised even you. “A promise?” you spat, the word dripping with venom. “Are you serious, Ellie? We both know your promises mean nothing. So save it. Get the fuck out of here. I have nothing to say to you, and I sure as hell don’t want to hear anything from you.”

Vi’s voice, calm but firm, cut through the tense air behind you. “You heard her.” She leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, though there was nothing casual about the way her sharp gaze lingered on Ellie.

Ellie’s eyes flicked toward her for the first time, her brows furrowing in irritation at being interrupted. Her tone turned cold, defensive. “I’m not talking to you,” she hissed back before her focus snapped back to you. It softened instantly, a desperate edge creeping into her voice as she took another cautious step closer. “Y/N, please. You can kick me out. Yell at me. Hit me if you want—I deserve it. I know that. I know I do. But please, just give me five minutes. Just let me talk to you. Alone.”

The last word was added with a pointed look toward Vi, her jaw tightening. She wasn’t just asking. She was begging.

•• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• ••

It was the middle of the night when the quiet creak from outside the room pulled you from your sleep. At first, you thought it was nothing—maybe the house settling, or the wind brushing against the windows. But then you noticed it: the faint glow of light coming from the living room, spilling in through the half-opened door. You blinked a few times, trying to clear the sleep from your eyes, before instinctively reaching for Ellie beside you. Your hand hit an empty mattress. Her side of the bed was cold.

Your heart sank as unease crept in, but you still didn’t fully understand. Not yet. You sat up, rubbing the sleep from your face as you forced yourself out of bed.

“Ellie?” you called softly, your voice husky with sleep, barely cutting through the stillness of the room.

Through the crack in the door, you saw her silhouette—frozen in the middle of the living room like she’d been caught. She wasn’t supposed to be there, and something about the way she stood, stiff and hesitant, made your stomach churn.

“What’s going on?” you asked quietly, stepping closer, your bare feet soft against the floor.

She turned slowly to face you, and the moment her eyes locked with yours, it hit you like a punch to the chest. You didn’t even need her to say it. Her expression told you everything. She was holding a backpack.

“Ellie…” The word was barely a whisper, cracking under the weight of sudden, overwhelming dread. “No.” Your voice was firmer this time as you took a step closer. Your heart was already breaking before you could even piece it all together. “No,” you repeated, your tone trembling. “No, you’re not doing this.”

She exhaled shakily, her chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. She looked like she wanted to say something—needed to—but nothing came out. Instead, she reached up, gently catching your hand as it brushed over her freckled cheek. She didn’t lean into it like she always did.

“Y/N, please… don’t,” she whispered, pulling your hand away. Her touch was cold, distant. Not the warmth you were used to. She stepped back, putting more space between the two of you.

“Don’t?” Your voice cracked as you felt the first tear slip down your cheek. You couldn’t keep up with what was happening. Why was this happening? You hadn’t fought. There wasn’t a single warning sign. Nothing. “Ellie,” you pleaded, desperate, your voice shaking harder now. “What’s going on? What did I do? Why—why are you doing this?”

She avoided your eyes, her lips trembling, but her face was set, as if forcing herself to stay strong. “We both know this won’t work for long,” she mumbled, her voice breaking with quiet resignation. “It’s better if it ends now.”

It was like someone had sucked all the air out of the room.

“Bullshit,” you snapped through the tears now falling freely down your face. Your hands trembled as you reached for her again, desperate to close the gap between you. “What are you even talking about? We’re happy, Ellie! We’re happy! I’m happy!”

She flinched slightly at the words, her breath hitching like you’d hit her, but she didn’t back down. Her silence was deafening.

You stepped closer, your voice softening, barely audible. “I love you.”

She froze, her jaw tightening, but her gaze still wouldn’t meet yours. The silence that followed was heavier than anything you’d ever felt. Like the walls were caving in around you, crushing you under their weight. When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper, her words shaky and raw. “I’m sorry.”

Then she turned away.

“No—wait,” you stammered, stumbling forward, but she was already at the door. Her fingers brushed against the handle, the finality of it hitting you like a freight train. “Ellie, don’t do this! Please!”

She opened the door without looking back, her shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the world. For a split second, you thought she might stop, might turn around and take it all back. But she didn’t. She stepped through the doorway and disappeared into the night. The cold air rushed in, filling the empty space she left behind, and all you could do was collapse where you stood. The door creaked as it swung shut, but the sound barely registered over the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

She was gone.

•• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• •• ••

Flashbacks clouded your mind, consuming every ounce of rationality you could muster. After everything, after all she had done to you—she had the audacity to show up here? At your door? She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t deserve even a shred of your attention. The wounds she left on you ran too deep to forgive, too raw to ignore. You had given her everything, laid yourself bare, handed her your love and trust on a silver platter. And she had tossed it aside, left you shattered and hollow, forcing you to pick up the broken pieces of yourself. And now, here she was, standing there like a ghost refusing to fade.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you,” you hissed, your voice trembling with rage. You tried to keep your composure, but it cracked like glass under the weight of your pain. “I’m serious, Ellie. Whatever it is, I’m not fucking interested. Now turn around and get the hell out of here. You’re good at that, after all.” You weren’t even trying to hide the venom in your words, wanting—no, needing—to hurt her as much as she’d hurt you. Her head dropped, her eyes casting downward, and you could see it—her desperation. Her body language betrayed her, as if her entire being was begging you to let her in, to give her a chance to speak. Her green eyes glistened under the dim light, heavy with the weight of emotions she couldn’t say aloud. It reminded you of yourself… the last time you had seen her, the last time you had begged. But this wasn’t then. You weren’t the same person anymore.

“I’m serious,” she said, her voice shaking but resolute. “I need to talk to you.” Her tone was raw, yet the stubbornness in her words was unyielding. Of course, it was Ellie—she was the most determined, most maddeningly persistent person you had ever known. That much hadn’t changed.

“And I told you I’m not fucking interested,” you snapped, crossing your arms tightly across your chest like a shield. “Whatever it is, save it. It doesn’t matter to me. You don’t matter to me—not anymore.”

Ellie flinched at your words, like they had physically struck her. She stood there, chewing on her bottom lip, clearly searching for something—anything—to make you listen.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said quietly but firmly. “You can kick me out right now if you want, Y/N, but I’ll just stand outside your door all night if that’s what it takes. I’ll stay until you talk to me.”

Your laugh came out sharp, bitter. “What a fucking joke.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm, but you felt your resolve begin to crack, your chest tightening. “Talk about what, huh? About how you left without saying a damn word? About how you ripped me apart and didn’t even look back?” You could feel the floodgate threatening to open, so you took a deep breath and steadied yourself, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing you crumble. Ellie stepped forward, her lips parting like she was about to say something, but Vi’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

“Are you deaf?” Vi said coldly, her tone filled with threat and unwavering loyalty. “She wants you to leave. Get lost.”

Ellie’s gaze snapped toward Vi, and her defensiveness flared immediately. “I’m not talking to you, punk,” she hissed, her voice low and edged with irritation.You stepped between them, placing a firm hand on Vi’s shoulder before she could move forward. Vi looked at you, her fists clenched tightly, ready to defend you at any cost. But she stopped, catching the stern warning in your eyes. “She’s not worth it, Vi,” you murmured, lowering your voice.

Ellie’s eyes darted between the two of you, and you could see it—jealousy flaring in her expression, sharp and sudden. Her jaw clenched, the familiar tension flickering across her face. But she didn’t address it, didn’t ask. Instead, her focus locked onto you.

“Look, Ellie,” you said, your voice low but unwavering, a finality edging each word. “I’m serious. I don’t want you here—not a second more. Whatever you have to say, you can save it for someone else. I don’t—”

“It’s your brother, Y/N,” she blurted, her voice cutting through your words. Her desperation cracked through the tension like lightning.

You froze. The air shifted.

“What…?” The word barely came out, caught somewhere between disbelief and dread.

Her gaze softened, the storm of emotions still swirling in her green eyes. “It’s your brother,” she repeated, steadier now. “Faye… she found him.”

Your heart stopped, the room spinning as the weight of her words crashed down on you.

Author's note : I'm so sorry for delay but I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Ellie finally shows up! What do you think , what is going to happen? Do you like how story is going so far? I really appreciate your feedback so don't be shy to share it with me!

This is my little Christmas gift for my readers. Marry Christmas everyone, I hope you're having a good one!

Thank you !!

[luveline]

hi could you do james maybe massaging reader with persistent back pain? he'd be a total sweetheart about it

fem!reader

James is heavier than he looks. 

“I resent that,” he says after you’ve told him so breathlessly, shifting his weight off of your thighs as much as he possibly can. 

“No, you’re fine, just don’t press on my back,” you say. 

“I have to press on it. A bit.” He leans down, arms either side of you, your face hidden in the blankets beneath. “I’m not going to hurt you, yeah? If I do anything unbearable, all you need to do is tell me.” He smells nice, so close, the after effects of his macadamia oil shampoo. 

“I feel like I’m about to have major surgery.” 

“Don’t mind the scalpels.”

He begins with very gentle movements, almost like he’s going to turn you around and start kissing you. You laugh as he pushes your shirt up, but can’t find it in you to keep going when his lips press gentle and warm to the centre of your spine. You’ve been in a lot of pain recently and your boyfriend has yet to falter. It was his suggestion that he give you a massage, and his own volition to have researched how to do it. 

“I’m gonna use more pressure slowly,” he says, making palm-circles against your skin, “and it might hurt some, but if it’s too much, if it’s even a little over your threshold, I’ll stop.” 

“I’m not worried.” You can’t take his entire weight, but some pressure might be nice. “Just no tackles.” 

“No promises.” 

He gives a very nice, very soft massage for a time, the brunt of his palms pushing into your back and up to the line of your bra. He pushes just under it and murmurs about how cold you are, though his constant touching warms you soon enough. When he begins pressing, the pain twinges funny. It hurts in strange places and James chases into knots and stringy muscle with quiet dedication, the room a quiet sanctuary made of your shared breaths and his occasional kiss. 

You could fall asleep. Your eyes closed, arms crossed in front of you, weirdly close to him but not close enough. “Come hug me,” you say tiredly. 

“Is this doing anything besides putting you to sleep?”

You’re not totally sure. It feels nice regardless, and you’re glad for it when he ignores your demand to press his palm deep into the base of your spine. 

He slides from the small to the top, where he unclips your bra and presses both hands to your shoulders. “Pardon me.” 

“Not a gentleman. Didn’t even ask.” 

“What’s that?” he asks, working his thumb into a particularly sore muscle and drawing out a staggered sigh. “Oh,” —his joking falls away immediately— “that felt good?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, turning your face to the side. 

“Want me to do it again?” he asks earnestly. 

He massages until you’re sure his wrists are sore and you’ve discovered a new kind of nap, your back thoroughly worked over, aching and relieved at once. He climbs off of you and doesn’t say a thing about how his own back probably hurts from so long bent over you, peeling out of his shirt and nudging you across the bed to make room for him. He scoops you onto his chest, and for the first time in ages your back doesn’t twinge. 

“Thanks so much, James,” you say, eyes already heavy, face buried in his neck. 

He kisses the tip of your nose. You’re welcome. 

[waywardprintmaker]

I have noticed that a lot of fics make Sebastian the one who falls first, the ones who pines and dreams of something more, but there's something that's so compelling about Ominis, the sickly, traumatised, disabled victorian child imprinting on his first ever friend like a baby duck and never letting go.

Ominis finding out for the first time what playfighting is, playfighting that doesn't leave you scratched and bruised and hurt. He finds Sebastian, a boy brimming with energy and affection and it's Sebastian who introduces Ominis to the concept of playful touch, cheap sweets and games that spit at your expensive robes with smelly liquid - revelations that open up an entirely new world for Ominis.

At first, it’s just puppy love. Ominis thinks it’s normal to be this attached to your best friend, right? But as they grow older, those innocent feelings gradually shift into something much stronger—much stronger. And the thing is, Ominis is totally aware of it. He knows exactly how deep his feelings for Sebastian have become, and that awareness makes everything harder. He’s fully conscious of how he hangs on to every laugh, every touch, every quiet moment between them, and he knows it’s more than friendship. He just can’t stop himself. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

For Ominis, Sebastian isn't just a friend - he's a lifeline, a source of warmth and safety in a world that had previously offered little of either. Every laugh, every gentle touch, every shared moment becomes a treasure that Ominis holds dear.

But the fear of losing the one bright spot in his life keeps those feelings hidden, even as they threaten to overflow. Each time Sebastian draws near or chuckles at one of Ominis' dry jokes, you can almost feel Ominis holding his breath, wondering if he's reading too much into these simple interactions. And Sebastian? Sebastian just laughs, playfully taps him on the shoulder and goes back to boasting about his latest duel victories. Like he's unaware a dam is about to burst right next to him. Ominis keeps the dam strong. Hopes he can keep it strong forever.

Of course he fell first.