#eyes with a slitted pupils watching from the distance??

[martwy-basen]

if you show me a gravity falls art with like, very small sillhouetes of the characters and a lot of background space, yk which type. you bet your ass i will look for bill references

[moongirlcleo]

Undone

❤︎  tags and content: pining, wall sex, oral (f!receiving), aftercare, fluff, smut ❤︎  author note: check out all my fics by searching #moongirlcleo or on AO3

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @/omi.resources Fic: @moongirlcleo  

Zayne was always the composed one. The one with careful hands and quiet eyes, with a voice that cut clean and never wavered. But one dinner, one dress, and one look too long was all it took to unravel years of restraint.

You never expected the man who held himself back for so long to kiss you against the wall like he meant to worship and wreck you all at once. And when control finally breaks, it doesn’t happen gently—it happens on the floor, in the dark, with silk around your hips and his voice shaking as he says your name.

Maybe he was never in control to begin with.

Evening descended over Linkon in its usual fanfare—city lights winking awake one by one like stars born beneath skyscrapers, the pale haze of dusk giving way to the electric hum of nightlife. The air pulsed with energy, sleek hovercars zipping past mirrored buildings, street-level bars exhaling laughter and jazz into the open air. It was the kind of night made for private booths and clinking glasses, for eyes that lingered too long and strangers who didn’t ask for names.

Zayne stood just outside the restaurant’s glass doors, one hand tucked into the pocket of his slate-black overcoat, the other absently adjusting the cuff of his shirt beneath his suit jacket. He was dressed in quiet elegance—charcoal-gray three-piece, collar sharp, a glint of silver from the watch at his wrist. His glasses caught the glow of the neon signage behind him, reflecting streaks of blue and red across his unreadable expression.

He checked the time—again—not because you were late, but because he was nervous. Not that he’d admit it. Not even to himself.

Then the crowd shifted. And he saw you.

You stepped out of the car like a secret finally revealed, the city’s lights catching on every shimmer of red that clung to your body like liquid fire. The dress was sleeveless, backless, dangerous. It hugged your curves with intention, falling just past the thighs with a slit that made even passing strangers pause mid-step. The neckline dipped low, not scandalously, but enough to be remembered.

And remembered you were. People were staring. He was staring.

Zayne’s breath caught in his throat—a small hitch, barely noticeable to anyone but himself—but it was enough. His composure faltered for half a second, pupils dilating just a touch behind his lenses. He stood straighter, as if his body betrayed what his mouth would never say.

You smiled when you saw him. Not the practiced kind you wore during press events or missions, but something softer. Warmer. Like you already knew what you were doing to him.

Your heels clicked against the pavement as you crossed the distance, the scent of something warm and floral brushing past him like a whispered sin.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you said, eyes catching the glint of surprise still flickering behind his calm exterior.

“You’re not late,” he replied, but it came out rougher than intended.

You tilted your head. “You sure? You look like you’ve been holding your breath.”

Zayne didn’t answer right away. His eyes swept over you—once, deliberately—before he looked away, jaw tightening beneath the low halo of city light.

“I’m fine,” he said, but his hand flexed in his pocket, like he was trying to steady something beneath his skin.

You offered your arm to him with a mischievous little curve of your lips, the night glittering against your dress as if the city itself couldn’t help but follow your movements.

“Well then, Doctor,” you teased. “Shall we?”

He hesitated—half a breath, no more before he stepped beside you and slipped his hand into the crook of your elbow. Warmth flooded between you from that single point of contact, restrained and formal and absolutely not trembling.

But inside?

Zayne Li was already burning.

The restaurant was carved from marble and glass, its floor-to-ceiling windows casting a view of Linkon’s skyline that sparkled like spilled stardust across the night. Soft piano music drifted through the air, threaded delicately beneath the low hum of conversation and clinking silver. The lighting was subdued and golden, diffused through suspended crystal chandeliers that turned the entire space into a dreamscape of warm, refracted glow.

A hostess escorted you both to a corner table overlooking the city, tucked just far enough from the crowd to feel intimate. Zayne said little as she spoke, but you noticed the way his gaze remained fixed on you when he thought you weren’t looking, the faint clench of his jaw as another man across the room turned to watch you pass, his eyes lingering just a second too long on the curve of your back, the shimmer of your dress catching every flicker of light like a magnet for desire.

He didn’t say anything then, but when he pulled your chair out, his fingers brushed your bare shoulder in a way that felt neither accidental nor routine. There was no apology in the touch, only awareness.

You sat, legs crossing with practiced ease as you reached for the menu, though your attention drifted not to the food but to him. Zayne adjusted his glasses, his expression schooled to its usual quiet restraint, though there was something tighter about the line of his shoulders now, something more deliberate in the way he sat across from you with one arm resting on the table, fingers lightly drumming against the edge of his crystal water glass.

You leaned forward slightly, elbows brushing the fine linen, and the neckline of your dress shifted just enough to draw his gaze downward. He caught himself a moment too late, eyes snapping back to yours with that familiar flicker of controlled tension, one that seemed to worsen the longer he was forced to hold still and pretend.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you said, tilting your head with a subtle smile, the red of your lips matching the dress like a secret spelled out in silk.

Zayne’s response was a breath delayed, his voice lower than usual, as if pulled taut by something he couldn’t quite name. “It’s loud in here.”

It wasn’t. Not really.

But you allowed him the excuse, watching as the waiter arrived with wine, pouring it carefully into tall-stemmed glasses that gleamed in the candlelight. Zayne thanked him politely, his gaze shifting only once to the bar, where the same man from earlier still sat with his attention casually cast in your direction. You turned slightly, following the line of his sight, then returned your focus to your glass, letting your fingers trace the rim in a slow circle.

“He’s not being subtle,” you murmured, amusement laced behind the observation.

Zayne didn’t look at you. “No,” he replied quietly, his voice calm but flat. “He’s not.”

You took a sip of wine, savoring the subtle dryness before resting the glass down with measured grace, watching as Zayne reached for his own, though his eyes no longer lingered on the menu. They lingered on you.

There was a moment then, brief but electric. His thumb traced the condensation along the side of his glass, your knee brushing his beneath the table as you shifted, the friction light but unmistakable. His fingers stilled. Yours didn’t.

You let your hand drift forward, brushing a nonexistent speck of lint from the sleeve of his jacket, your touch featherlight, innocent in appearance but loaded with every unspoken invitation you’d buried over the last few weeks. His gaze dropped to your hand, unmoving, eyes darker than before and unreadable behind the glint of his lenses.

“Is this why you came to dinner?” you asked softly, voice low enough to be heard only by him, your tone rich with curiosity and something sweeter. “To glare at men across the room and pretend not to look at me?”

His mouth twitched, but no smile came. Instead, he reached for his wine, sipped, and set it down with the precision of a man redirecting a thought that threatened to unravel him. When he finally answered, the words came slow, carefully measured, like each one had been chosen and then stripped of emotion before being allowed to speak.

“I joined you,” he said, “because I wanted to spend time with you.”

Your breath caught—not because it was shocking, but because it wasn’t what you’d expected. Not from him. Not from the man who guarded his glances like state secrets and kept his compliments locked behind layers of protocol and distance.

You felt the burn of the wine in your throat, warm and pleasant, chased by the slower, hotter ache that settled beneath your skin as Zayne’s gaze returned to yours, no longer pretending.

Outside, the city glittered with its thousand artificial stars, but you barely noticed. Not when the man across from you was already undoing you, word by deliberate word, look by silent look.

The wine deepened in color as the bottle emptied by half, its ruby hue catching the low candlelight like a secret confession left unsaid. Silverware clinked gently against porcelain, the muted bustle of the restaurant swirling around your table in a blur of linen and laughter, but none of it truly reached you- not the way Zayne’s gaze did, not the way his silence began to coil like tension in the space between his words.

You had been talking. Half-laughing, recounting some disaster of a Hunter briefing that had gone wildly off-course thanks to Caleb and his apparent allergy to authority. However, it was evident that he hadn’t responded in several minutes.

Not really.

He sat across from you like a man carved from ice and intent, his knife idly skimming through the untouched portion of his entrée, the prongs of his fork resting forgotten at the edge of the plate. His shoulders were set, the line of his jaw just slightly tenser than before, and though his eyes never fully left you, there was something deeper pulling at them now. Something that said his focus was not on your story, or the food, or the passing murmur of the waiter asking if everything was to your liking. It was on you.

Not your words. You.

You paused, letting your fingers trace the edge of your wine glass once more as you watched him. “You’re quiet,” you said softly, not teasing this time—curious. Observant.

Zayne blinked slowly, and for a moment he looked as if he hadn’t heard you. But then he inhaled, shallow but sharp, and gave the smallest shake of his head before murmuring, “I’m listening.”

And he was. You believed him. But not in the way that meant he could repeat your words back to you. No, he was listening the way someone watched a storm rolling in from a distance, knowing the moment it broke would drown everything in its path.

You leaned your elbow onto the table, propping your chin on your hand as you studied him, the candlelight dancing across the smooth planes of his face and the glint of his glasses. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you go completely still, like if you so much as move, something will slip out that you can’t take back.”

His lips parted, just slightly. The breath he took was measured, painfully so.

“I don’t do that,” he said eventually, though even his tone had gentled, losing its usual clinical edge.

You smiled slowly, eyes flickering down to the curve of his mouth, then back up. “You do, actually.”

He didn’t respond. Not this time.

You picked up your fork again, letting the silence stretch between you as you took another bite, chewing slowly, your gaze never leaving his. The food was good, but you couldn’t taste it. Not really. Not with the weight of his attention pressed against your skin like heat through silk.

“I didn’t think you’d say yes to dinner,” you said after a while, your voice softer now, almost introspective. “I half-expected a polite decline and a few hours of radio silence.”

Zayne’s gaze dropped then, as if the tablecloth had become momentarily fascinating. His hand flexed slightly where it rested on the stem of his glass, but he didn’t lift it.

“I almost didn’t,” he admitted.

That caught you off guard more than anything he could’ve said. You straightened slightly. “Why?”

His eyes met yours again, and for a moment, something flickered across his face—longing, maybe. Frustration. Or perhaps just the barest glimpse of vulnerability breaking through the cracks he kept so carefully sealed.

“Because I knew what it would do to me.”

He said it plainly, voice even and devoid of dramatic flourish, but it hit like a confession all the same. A sharp, clean incision laid bare across the linen and candlelight between you.

You didn’t answer right away. There wasn’t much to say, not when the air between you had grown so thick it could be carved like butter with the edge of a spoon.

The rest of dinner passed like that: your words slower now, chosen more carefully, and his replies fewer, quieter, less frequent until they dwindled entirely. But it wasn’t discomfort that stole his voice. It was control—fading, fraying, slipping one moment at a time the longer he sat across from you, his every breath weighted by the knowledge that you were there in red silk and firelight, your skin bare at the shoulders, your lips wine-slick and shining every time you lifted the glass to your mouth.

He looked like a man unraveling. Quietly, invisibly, beautifully.

And you could feel the pull in your own bones, the way your body responded to his silence more than his words. Your pulse beat faster, your thoughts slowed. You didn’t know what the next move would be, but you knew one thing with certainty:

He wouldn’t last the whole night like this.

***

The cab pulled away behind you in a quiet sweep of tires against wet pavement, leaving the two of you standing on the edge of the residential block, where the hum of downtown Linkon faded into something softer—less neon, more muted elegance, with wide sidewalks brushed in the warm amber glow of wrought-iron streetlamps and the faint scent of rain clinging to the early night air. The building ahead loomed modestly tall, its smooth glass façade reflecting the glow of passing cars and the occasional pedestrian, but none of it seemed to matter when the silence between you and Zayne deepened with every step toward its entrance.

You walked side by side, not speaking, not touching, and yet the space between your bodies was charged in a way that felt louder than conversation—an invisible current sparking and flickering with every sway of your dress, every quiet click of your heels on the stone, every time your arm brushed his sleeve in a way that could still be called incidental, even if both of you knew better. The slit along your thigh shifted with each movement, flashing just enough skin to tease and disappear again, and though Zayne never turned his head to look directly, you could feel the weight of his awareness, heavy and deliberate, trailing every motion with the precision of a man trained to observe detail but cursed, in this moment, with too much of it.

His hands remained at his sides, though his fingers twitched now and again, curling in toward his palms as if to occupy themselves, to resist the impulse to reach for something he wasn’t ready to admit he wanted. There was a stiffness in the way he walked, not discomfort exactly, but tension held just beneath the skin—too deliberate to be casual, too controlled to be natural. The kind of tension that builds not from conflict but from desire kept at bay for far too long.

You didn’t speak at first, content to let the quiet wrap around you, but when you turned your head slightly to glance at him, catching the tightness in his jaw, the way he swallowed hard against a breath that wasn’t steady—you smiled, not unkindly, and let your voice slip through the quiet like silk through fingers.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you said, your tone soft, curious, not teasing this time but observant, knowing. “I thought maybe the wine had stolen your voice, but now I think you’re trying a little too hard not to speak.”

He didn’t answer right away, though his eyes flicked toward you, only briefly, before returning to the path ahead. The light glinted across his glasses, veiling his expression, but the stillness in him shifted, a pause settling between his steps as if the words lodged somewhere just behind his teeth, too dangerous to be released.

“I’m fine,” he said eventually, his voice lower than usual, rougher, lacking its usual calm precision.

You hummed softly, a note of amusement threading beneath your breath as you tilted your head to look at him more fully, your shoulder brushing his in the motion, the contact brief but intentional. “You’re lying,” you said simply, not accusing, just matter-of-fact, like a diagnosis rendered with practiced ease.

Zayne stopped walking for the briefest of moment before continuing again, though this time the space between you was nearly gone, his body closer now, the warmth of him almost brushing yours with every stride. His hand twitched again, barely restrained, and this time you saw the way he flexed his fingers, as if weighing whether control was still worth keeping.

You didn’t speak again, not right away, letting him exist in that silence, letting him feel the weight of your nearness as you neared the entrance to the building, where soft golden light spilled out across the marble foyer and glass doors waited to slide open at his approach.

He reached for the handle, fingers brushing against the access panel with practiced familiarity, but stopped just before the contact, his arm going still, the line of his back rigid in a way that had nothing to do with tension and everything to do with unraveling.

You stood just behind him now, your breath steady, your voice low as you murmured his name, a quiet pull meant only for him.

When he turned, it was slow, like the motion cost him something, and the moment your eyes met, you saw the damning truth written in every line of his face, every strained breath, every faltering attempt at composure. He looked at you as though he were already drowning, already lost, and the mask he so often wore—the cold control, the clinical reserve slipped just enough to let something raw flicker through.

His lips parted, as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, his gaze dropped. It was slow, deliberate, tracing the length of you from the curve of your mouth to the shimmer of the dress still catching glints of light like stardust clinging to skin—and when he looked back up, there was nothing left of his usual restraint.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he said, the words quiet but devastating in their honesty.

There was no room left for pretense after that.

Because even as the door opened behind him, casting the light of his apartment like an invitation across the polished floor, his hand was already reaching for you—barely trembling, but no longer holding back.

The door clicked shut behind you, the gentle sound deceptively soft for what it marked- the final breath of restraint before it all gave way. There was no pause, no time to marvel at the familiar warmth of his apartment or the way the low lighting bathed the polished floors in gold; the moment you stepped past the threshold, Zayne was already reaching for you.

It wasn’t rushed, not in the way of careless hunger, but something far more dangerous,  restrained only by the thinnest thread of composure that had frayed steadily from the moment you stepped out of the cab in that impossibly red dress. His hand found your waist with a certainty that came not from impulse, but from a storm long held at bay, and he guided you backward, not with force, but with inevitability, until your back met the cool press of the wall.

He didn’t speak, nor did he offer some clever remark to deflect the intensity simmering just beneath his skin. Instead, his eyes met yours as if every layer he usually kept between himself and the world had been stripped away by your presence alone. And in that stillness, in the hush of the moment just before the fall, you saw it: the quiet desperation of a man who had waited too long to touch what he craved.

When he kissed you, it wasn’t the kind of kiss meant to ask permission or test boundaries. It was a confession, searing and breathless, forged in the hours he’d spent pretending to be unaffected. His mouth claimed yours with a precision that had nothing to do with logic, and everything to do with memory. It was every glance he hadn’t allowed himself to linger on, every time your hand had brushed his in passing and he’d pretended not to feel it, every moment he had kept his distance when all he wanted was this.

Your hands found their place against his chest to ground yourself against the sheer force of emotion rolling through him. His body pressed flush to yours, bracketing you against the wall like something sacred. He kissed you like a man unmaking himself, pulling you deeper with every breath, his fingers curling into the silk at your hips as if anchoring himself to the one thing he could no longer deny.

He broke the kiss only to breathe, his forehead resting briefly against yours, though even that moment of stillness trembled with restraint.

“You don’t understand what you’re doing to me,” he said, his voice frayed and low, each word sounding as though it had been wrestled past a barricade he’d long since lost the strength to hold.

Your eyes didn’t leave his, your smile soft, knowing, as you whispered, “Then show me.”

The look that passed over his face in that instant.. Raw, unfiltered, reverent, and was enough to steal the air from your lungs.

He moved again, not fast, but with the weight of decision behind every touch. His hand slid beneath the curve of your thigh, lifting it gently, guiding your leg to wrap around his waist, the motion sending your dress higher, the fabric gliding up your skin like water. His other hand braced beside your head, the flex of muscle beneath your palm a reminder of the restraint still fighting to hold him in place, though you could feel it—cracking, fracturing, coming undone with every second he was near.

His mouth descended to your throat, and the sigh that left your lips as he kissed just beneath your jaw felt like an invitation he no longer needed. He trailed fire along your skin, not in rush or rage, but in slow, deliberate surrender, each press of his lips unspooling the tension coiled in your spine, each graze of his fingers a vow he hadn’t yet put into words.

When he pulled back, his breath came heavy against your skin, and though he hesitated. It was clear he had already let go of every rule he’d ever set between you.

“Tell me to stop.”

You leaned forward, your mouth brushing his ear with the softest echo of a challenge, and whispered the only word he needed to hear.

“No.”

The last of his control slipped away like a thread snapped clean in two.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, needier, one hand fisting the fabric of your dress at your hip as if he could pull you into him through sheer will. There was no silence now, only breath and want and the distant, muffled thrum of your heartbeat in your ears, louder with every passing second as the wall pressed into your spine and his body pressed into your front.

This wasn’t patience anymore, and Zayne, so carefully composed, so beautifully restrained, was done waiting.

The way his mouth returned to yours had nothing of tenderness left in it because Zayne was past the point of soft. This was hunger twisted into reverence, years of silence pressed into skin, devotion that could no longer hide behind clinical distance or careful words. His kiss was bruising in its thoroughness, paced not by haste but by desperation worn smooth by time, and when his hand fisted in the side of your dress, pulling it higher until cool air kissed the tops of your thighs, there was no protest in you, only the quiet arch of your body seeking more.

Your leg stayed wrapped around his waist, muscles straining as he ground into you with agonizing slowness, every shift of his hips against your core sending shocks of sensation spiraling through you. The heat of him was unbearable, pressed through layers of fabric that felt suffocating now, your body aching beneath the weight of friction and unspent tension. His free hand slid up your spine, palm wide and steady, flattening between your shoulder blades as if to anchor you there—as if part of him still feared you might disappear, that this moment might not be real.

But you were real. You were here.

And when your lips broke from his with a gasp, your head tipping back against the wall as his mouth traveled down your neck, your hands found the lapels of his coat and tugged. Your hands were firm, pulling him closer like it would tether him to you completely.

“Zayne,” you breathed, the sound of his name almost a moan, almost a prayer, and something inside him shattered.

He dropped to his knees.

There was no ceremony in it, no hesitation, only the smooth descent of a man brought low by desire and something far deeper. His hands gripped your thighs, large and sure, guiding them apart as his mouth traced down your body—through the dip between your ribs, the subtle tremble of your belly, the hem of your dress that he pushed higher and higher until the silk bunched around your hips and your legs trembled beneath the attention.

He looked up once, his eyes dark, his mouth slightly parted, and there was something in that gaze—something feral and focused, worshipful and unrelenting that made your breath catch in your throat before he even touched you.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice raw, husked by restraint now fully unraveling. “Are you cold?”

You managed a whisper, breathless and wrecked. “No.”

A smile ghosted across his lips, fleeting and sharp, and then he leaned in, pulling the thin, flimsy strip of fabric covering your core to the side. 

The first brush of his mouth between your thighs was light, almost too light, the kind of tease that made your hips twitch forward instinctively. But the second he groaned, low and guttural against your skin, that nearly undid you. His tongue followed in a languid stroke, slow and devastating, and the sheer contrast of his control slipping while his movements remained so precise made your knees nearly buckle.

He didn’t rush. He never did. But where once he’d held back with a surgeon’s distance, now he savored with a sinner’s devotion.

His hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting, adjusting, guiding you to sit back against the wall in a way that gave him access to every inch he wanted. His tongue moved like he’d imagined this a thousand times—measured, sure, patient in the most excruciating way, as if he intended to draw out every gasp, every whispered plea. When your fingers found his hair, threading into those dark strands and pulling just slightly, his responding groan vibrated against you, sending another rush of sensation shooting through your spine.

“Zayne, please—” The words slipped out unbidden, broken by breath and need, and you felt him pause, just briefly.

Then he gave you exactly what you asked for.

His mouth closed around you with intent, his tongue moving in slow, purposeful circles that built and built until your thighs trembled and your fingers clenched in his hair, your head tipping back against the wall as a cry tore itself from your lips. He didn’t stop. He didn’t even slow.

He simply gave. Every flick, every press, every low groan like praise sent into your skin—until you shattered.

Your climax hit you with stunning force, your body arching, your voice cracking into something breathless and high as your thighs clamped around his shoulders and his name left your lips in a broken, desperate whisper.

He stayed there, lips soft against trembling skin, breathing you in like a man trying to remember what control used to feel like. When he finally lifted his head, his mouth was slick, his eyes darker than anything you’d ever seen on him, and he looked utterly ruined.

“Bedroom,” you tried to say, though it came out as a shaky breath, but Zayne only leaned up, his hands gripping your hips, his body pressing flush to yours once more.

“No,” he whispered, his voice thick with hunger and reverence, his mouth brushing yours in a kiss that stole what little breath you had left. “I’m not finished.”

And then he was lowering you to the floor, spreading you out on the polished hardwood like something precious, something meant to be undone in pieces.

The floor was cool beneath your skin, polished smooth by the flickering city light filtering through the tall windows, but none of that mattered, not when Zayne hovered above you like he was drinking you in, like the very sight of you laid out beneath him had shaken the last remnants of restraint from his bones. His coat had already been discarded somewhere behind him, his tie hanging loose around his neck, and he was undoing the buttons of his shirt with hands that trembled just slightly, though not from hesitation. No, this was need, barely contained, stripped of all its usual poise.

He didn’t speak, not as he shed the last layers between you, not as he watched your dress ride up further with every motion, revealing inch after inch of soft, trembling skin. His breath was shallow now, his chest rising with quiet urgency as he knelt between your thighs, his palms sliding up from your knees to your hips in a slow, reverent sweep that made your eyes flutter shut.

But he didn’t let you drift. His hand curled around your jaw, not rough, but firm enough to pull your gaze back to him.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice low and wrecked, all grit and command, and when your eyes met his again, the sheer intensity behind them stole what was left of your breath. “I want to see you.”

He leaned in then, and when he kissed you, it wasn’t frantic, it was consuming. His body pressed you deeper into the floor, his bare skin hot against yours, the hard line of him fitting perfectly between your thighs. You could feel how much he wanted you, every inch of him pressed tight and aching, and the way he held himself back—just barely, made it even worse. His hips rolled into yours slowly, once, and you gasped, nails dragging across his shoulders as your legs wrapped around his waist.

“I’ve thought about this,” he whispered against your mouth, his words ragged, teeth grazing your lower lip before he kissed you again, deeper this time. “More than I should have.”

You reached between your bodies, fingers fumbling with the last barrier between you. Zayne reached to help- one hand bracing beside your head, the other guiding himself with a precision that felt more like devotion than need.

When he finally pushed into you, it was slow, the stretch of him deliberate, steady, filling you completely as he pressed forward with a groan that sounded as though it had been locked in his chest for years.

Your back arched off the floor, a breathless sound escaping your lips as your arms wrapped tight around him, pulling him down, closer, deeper.

He didn’t move at first. Just held there, buried inside you, forehead resting against yours, breath stuttering as if he were still trying to believe this was real.

“You feel…” he murmured, the words caught in his throat, and then he started to move.

Each thrust was long, slow, devastating- like he was trying to memorize the way your body took him, how it clenched around him, how every shift made you moan his name like a secret torn loose. He kissed you through it, dragging his lips across your cheek, your throat, your collarbone, whispering things he probably didn’t mean for you to hear but couldn’t stop himself from saying.

“I need.. God, I need you…”

You were unraveling beneath him, each roll of his hips sending pleasure spiraling through your body until you were clutching at him, your voice gone to breathless gasps and broken cries. He moved faster now, still steady but losing rhythm to desperation, his restraint fraying at the edges until his moans joined yours, low and guttural, like he was breaking apart with you.

He reached between your bodies, fingers finding where you were already trembling, circling with purpose until your hips bucked beneath him.

“Come for me,” he whispered, his voice fierce, urgent, wrecked. “Let me feel you.”

And you did.

You shattered, crying out his name, your body arching beneath him as the orgasm tore through you harder than you were ready for, your entire body shaking as your nails bit into his back, your legs locking around his hips to keep him there, deep, buried, yours.

Zayne cursed, breath faltering, and then with one final thrust he came, hips driving into you as he groaned against your neck, his entire body shuddering with the force of it. He stayed there, pressed tight to you, his breath ragged and hot on your skin, his hands trembling where they gripped your hips like he never wanted to let go.

The world stilled around you, time slowing in the hush of shared breath and the press of skin against skin.

His voice came moments later, quieter, rough around the edges.

“…I told myself I wouldn’t do this.”

You smiled faintly, tracing the edge of his jaw, still flushed and damp with sweat.

“And yet here you are.”

Zayne exhaled a broken laugh, burying his face in your neck.

“You make it hard to stick to my rules.”

***

For a long while, neither of you moved.

The rhythm of your breathing slowly found its way back to something steady, though it still stuttered in the spaces where your bodies remained pressed together, where his hand rested on your waist and your thigh curled loosely around his hip. The air in the apartment was warm and still, broken only by the soft exhale from the vents overhead and the faint heartbeat of Linkon City pulsing through the windows beyond. Even the street noise felt distant now, as though the world had shrunk to this moment, this space, the sheen of sweat cooling along your skin as his breath fanned gently against your throat.

Zayne hadn’t pulled away, not even an inch.

He lay half on top of you, chest rising and falling in a slow, calming cadence, his forehead resting against your collarbone as if he’d melted there—melted and found no reason to put himself back together. His arms circled you more tightly now than they had during the act itself, a quiet kind of reverence in the way his hand stroked slowly up and down your side, tracing every inch as though memorizing you all over again in stillness.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked quietly, his voice husky and worn thin with exhaustion, though there was a flicker of worry beneath it, as if the thought had haunted him the moment clarity returned.

You smiled, turning your head slightly so your lips brushed the shell of his ear, the gesture tender. “No,” you murmured. “God, no. You were perfect.”

He let out a slow breath, almost shaky, and you felt the way his body relaxed just a little more, the way his hold softened. There was safety now. Permission. Home.

One of his hands drifted upward, brushing your hair gently back from your damp forehead, fingers trailing through it in slow, careful strokes. He kissed your temple a moment later, a press of lips so soft it barely counted as a kiss at all, and yet it made something inside you ache with sweetness.

“I shouldn’t have lost control like that,” he said after a while, his voice so low it barely touched the air.

You opened your eyes, just enough to find his, your palm rising to cup his cheek as you shook your head. “Yes, you should have,” you whispered. “You needed to.”

Zayne didn’t answer right away, but his gaze held yours, dark and open in a way it rarely was, stripped of its usual cool detachment. There was no defense in his expression now. No composure. Just the honest, unguarded weight of a man who had finally let himself feel.

You leaned up slightly, just enough to kiss him, the kind of kiss that said I’m here and you’re safe and we are allowed to want this.

He sighed against your lips and when he kissed you back, his mouth lingered like he was afraid to leave—even for breath.

When you pulled away, his hand found yours, fingers lacing with yours against the floor, and he brought it to his lips, kissing the back of your knuckles with a kind of softness that made your chest go tight.

“We should move,” you whispered after a while, though your body made no attempt to do so.

“We should,” he murmured, his eyes already slipping closed, his voice heavier now, slower. “But I don’t want to.”

You smiled, letting your head rest against the crook of his neck, your leg sliding just slightly against his as your breath aligned with his once more.

“You always do what’s right,” you said softly.

Zayne hummed, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand, slow and rhythmic. “Not tonight.”

And thank God for that.

[odileeclipse]

Hey...did you get my idea of shadow milk with, in a way, animal lover reader where shadow milk turns into a sheep and that's how they introduce themselves to reader in a way?

Sorry, just I know tumblr likes to eat asks sometimes!

The Sheep in the Shadows

(Hey Anon I actually did not I think tumblr ate up your ask so I'm glad you requested again...I had no idea that happened TwT so if your request isn't answered this is the potential reason)

The night air was cool, the moon casting a silver glow over the quiet meadow. Crickets chirped softly, their rhythmic melody blending with the rustling of leaves. You were out later than usual, having stopped to check on a few stray critters near the edge of the forest. It wasn’t uncommon for lost or injured animals to wander close to your little home, and you had a soft spot for every single one. Tonight, however, was different. A lone sheep stood just beyond the tree line, its wool a dark, shadowy blue that shimmered faintly in the moonlight. Most unusual were its eyes—one cyan with a black slit pupil, the other a deeper cerulean with a stark white slit. It stared at you, unblinking, with an expression almost too knowing for an ordinary animal.

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, concern outweighing your wariness. “Oh, you poor thing… are you lost?” The sheep blinked, tilting its head slightly, almost as if amused by your words. You crouched down, extending a gentle hand. The sheep made no move to flee, merely watching you with an eerie sort of patience. That only worried you more usually, lost animals were skittish. This one… seemed almost entertained. Still, you couldn’t leave it out here. “You must be hungry. Come on, let’s get you home.” The sheep let out a soft, almost breathy laugh…wait, a laugh? before stepping forward, allowing you to guide it back to your cozy little dwelling. 

The wool was softer than you expected. Running a brush through it was almost hypnotic, the silky strands parting easily under your touch. “You’re really well-groomed for a stray,” you mused aloud, mostly to yourself. “I wonder if you belonged to someone.” The sheep merely blinked at you, head resting lazily on its front hooves. It had settled comfortably onto a pile of blankets you’d set out, looking far too pleased with itself. You smiled, rubbing your cheek against its fluffy coat. “You’re so cute… I could just keep you forever.” A deep, delighted hum rumbled from the sheep’s throat. You paid it no mind, thinking it was just a particularly content little thing. Until the wool beneath your fingers shifted. You barely had time to react before the warmth in your arms melted away into something taller, leaner, Cookie. The fluffy coat vanished, replaced by dark, mismatched fabrics and curling coattails lined with unblinking eyes. Clawed hands rested lightly against your shoulders, and a sapphire-toothed grin stretched across the face of a very, very familiar figure. “Oh, my dear caretaker,” Shadow Milk Cookie purred, his voice a smooth, teasing lilt. “You truly are as kind as they say. Would you still hold me so sweetly if I wasn’t so... fluffy?” Your breath caught in your throat. You were still half-curled against him, your hands gripping the lapels of his harlequin-styled coat where soft wool had been mere moments ago. Your mind struggled to catch up, but the mischievous glint in his mismatched eyes told you everything you needed to know.

This wasn’t just some lost sheep. It never was. He had played you. “W-What?!” You scrambled backward, face burning as you put some much-needed distance between you. “You-You were-What just-?!” Shadow Milk laughed, rolling his shoulders as if shedding the last remnants of his disguise. “Apologies for the little deception,” he drawled, though the smirk curling his lips suggested he wasn’t sorry at all. “But how could I resist? You were so sweet, so trusting, welcoming a little lost creature into your arms so readily…” His grin widened, sharp and teasing. “I simply had to see for myself.” Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of lingering warmth and rising mortification. “You tricked me!” “Tricked?” He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “I merely embraced an opportunity. And really, can you blame me? You did say you could keep me forever.” His voice dipped lower, more velvety. “Were you lying, little caretaker?” Your face burned. This was ridiculous. One moment, you were cuddling a fluffy sheep, and the next, you were being teased by a theatrical trickster with too-sharp teeth and too-smooth words. Shadow Milk chuckled, watching the way your emotions flickered across your face like a shifting stage play. He lived for this, the way confusion, flustered frustration, and reluctant intrigue danced together so beautifully. “Don’t look so cross,” he hummed, resting his chin in his palm. “I rather enjoyed your company. Will you shoo me away now that you know the truth?” You hesitated, lips parting, but no words came. Would you? He had deceived you, yes, but… he hadn’t hurt you. And, if you were being honest with yourself, the warmth of his presence still lingered, despite the shocking reveal. Shadow Milk watched your silence with keen interest, his grin curling at the edges. “Ohh, I see it now,” he murmured, voice dropping to a whispery croon. “You liked having me close, didn’t you?” You almost threw the nearest pillow at him. Instead, you crossed your arms, trying to gather the shreds of your composure. “I’m not keeping you.” “A shame,” he sighed, but his eyes twinkled with mischief. “I quite liked being your little lost sheep.” Something told you this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him.

(btw guys this might be the last request of the day that I post I have to proofread other ones and I have to write some of them I'm getting through my requests slowly please be patient <3)

[bi-writes]

mmm. being the final girl in ghost's slasher movie (dark!ghost x curvy!fem!reader, 18+)

his laughter shakes you to your core. you're cornered, in the very back bedroom under the bed, staring at the dull gaze of your roommate as she bleeds out on the floor.

she's gurgling. she coughs up mouthfuls of blood, and they trail down her neck like a spider web until it pools underneath her head, making the strands of her hair red and sticky. the slit across her throat sputters, and you watch as the white painted bones on the back of his gloves drips with the pretty crimson color. if it wasn't so cruel, if it wasn't blood, it might be artistic.

he takes a thumb and smears the blood over her skin. he draws shapes into her forehead and then both of her cheeks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to stop from crying as she gasps, reaching up with a shaky hand, halfheartedly trying to push him off, but she's too weak.

he hums when he finishes, and your eyes well up with tears when he knocks her head to the side so she's facing you. he's written three words on her face, one word on her forehead, and then the rest on her cheeks, in her own blood.

I SEE YOU

you scream when he shifts, grabbing onto your ankles and yanking. you claw at the hardwood floor, trying desperately to get away from him, but it's no use. he has you, he found you.

no matter where you go, you've never been able to hide. no matter how far away you think you've gone, it never matters. no matter how long you go without hearing from him, it isn't a comfort, because that usually means the inevitable is coming.

he will never leave you alone. you will never get away. he will find you, he will have you, and every time you escape, it is always just him giving you the illusion of freedom, when in reality, he can have you as easily as he did before.

"givin' me a right headache, luvvie," he murmurs, flipping you over with not so much as a grunt and sitting on your hips. you squirm under him, but this behemoth of a man isn't something you can just push off of you. he's big and heavy, and with all his gear on, he must be thirty pounds heavier. you eye the gun strapped to his chest, but even at this distance, you know it won't matter.

ghost cannot die. that's how he got his fucking name. you've sunk a knife into his stomach before, you've shot him once, you've pushed him off of cliffs and down elevator shafts and watched him sink to the bottom of the fucking ocean, but he cannot die, he won't die, he will never leave me.

"fuck you," you spit, and he chuckles, pulling one of his throwing knives out of his boot and using it to pop the first button off the front of your shirt. it clatters somewhere in the bedroom, and ghost snarls when he sees the lace of your bra.

"expectin' someone?" he growls. "oi! look at me."

you glare up at him, tears sliding down your cheeks, and he uses the sharp edge to pop the rest of the buttons off, your shirt in tatters as it lays loose around your arms. he grunts as he sneaks it under where the cups meet, pulling upwards until he cuts the lace in half. you mewl when your tits bounce, falling free, and his pupils dilate.

"mmmm..." he pushes his mask up, leaning down, and you arch your back when he wraps his lips around one nipple and suckles. you reach up without thinking, your hands finding the back of his head and cradling it as he practically feeds on the fat of your breasts. "know how much you like tha'..."

you whine, and he lets go, pushing the front of his mask into your cheek, licking the skin. you scrunch your face, dirty fucking animal, and he mouths at your jaw.

"'f y'were just a good girl, wouldn't hafta do this," he taunts. you squirm when he lowers himself again, paying attention to the other breast and sucking it into his mouth. "y'make me do it, swee'eart. make me hurt sorry muppets...they're keepin' y'from me. and y'know tha' isn't allowed."

you cry out when he flips you over under him. he shoves your face into the floor, tangling his hand into your hair and yanking on it so that you're looking at your dead roommate, her eyes dull and lifeless as she lays there turning cold.

"look wot y'did," he growls. "look wot y'made me do."

she looks sort of pretty. she did annoy the shit out of you, you won't lie. she looks happier this way. quiet, relaxed, still. it's cathartic, to know that maybe this is what she was meant for. to die, that was her purpose. it makes a little sense.

"'m sorry," you whisper, and ghost loosens his grip on your hair. "'m sorry..."

he kisses the side of your neck, laughing a little.

"now y'r sorry," he says, amused. "y'r mine. when are y'going to learn tha'?"

you put your palms onto the floor, trying to turn over. he eases his weight up to let you, leaning down and putting both hands on either side of your head as he looks down at you. you meet his eyes, sniffling, and you shake your head.

"w-was scared."

"scared?" he tilts his head to the side, licking over his teeth. "scared of wot? would do anythin' for ya."

"i-i know," you sniffle. "just...n-never had anyone that...that would. i-i...i've never had anyone s-so good to me."

he grins, and you shiver a little, but not from fear.

"awww," he shakes his head. "y'r a bad liar, luv."

"i'm not lying--!"

he leans down, licking over your bottom lip, and you whimper.

"prove it," ghost rasps, and you blink up at him, swallowing hard. you push on his chest a little so he eases off of you, and you hook your thumbs into your jeans and shimmy them off. ghost watches carefully, his eyes flickering when you lay bare underneath him, and you bring your knees up before letting them fall. he licks his lips, his grin widening, and he meets your eyes when he sees what he likes. "bloody hell, y'r soaking the fuckin' floor, swee'eart."

you bite your lip, a little shy, and he grips your throat firmly before tugging you up to meet him. he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek, stroking your sweaty hair and humming low.

"y'r gonna run again, aren't ya, baby?"

you nod, closing your eyes, and you let a soft moan slip out when he settles between your spread legs, pressing his pelvis to yours. you feel that familiar hardness, digging into your sex, and you can't help the grind of your hips, wanting to get closer, needing to have more of him. he might be the craziest motherfucker you have ever known, and it's a shame he fucks like a pornstar.

you open your eyes, reaching down, and he smiles wickedly when you unzip his pants, shoving them low until his cock is free. like he knew this would happen, he's been leaking into his boxers, and when you pull him out, the tip is red and wet.

you squeeze your thighs around his waist when he sinks into you, grunting when his thighs press to yours, burying himself deep. you cry, your back bowing sharply, and he smooths his gloved hand down your bare stomach, licking his lips when he trails streaks of blood down your soft skin.

"'s olright," ghost mutters, "quite like chasin' ya. makes y'r cunny taste better. makes y'so fuckin' tight, too, fuck--"

"yeah--" you gasp, and he smiles again, disgusting, filthy, murderous, terrifying.

"say it. say it, and maybe i'll forgive this lil' stunt, and maybe i'll let y'cum." your eyes roll back, and he grips your face tight. "oi! say it!"

"i'm yours! fuck--yes! i'm yours..."

[moonstruckme]

If it interests you, could you maybe do poly!marauders smut surrounding how they would react when reader gives one of the boys a blowjob? If this isn’t comfy for you I apologize immensely. I double checked your rules so hopefully I didn’t overstep or anything. Love your work! Also my middle name is Mae:)))

Honestly babe when I read this I didn’t know if I was comfy with it either (not because of you, just because I didn’t know if I’d be able to write it) but I decided to give it a go and somehow it turned into over 2k words? So thanks!

cw: smut mdni, oral (m receiving), praise, this might be horrible? I can't decide if I hate it

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

Sirius’ kisses have turned sloppy, one of his hands wrapped loosely around your neck while the other wiggles its fingers below the waistband of your jeans, taking greedy handfuls of hip. His hard length presses into your thigh through his pants. You tilt your head, slanting your mouth against his so you can kiss him more deeply, and a low groan rumbles through him. 

He plants a chaste kiss on your lips before starting to mark a path downwards. 

You know where this is going, and you like where this is going, but still a breathless “wait” slips past your lips. 

Sirius pauses, his face hovering over your middle. Next to you on the bed, your boyfriends continue making out, but you can see you’ve caught James’ attention. His eyes open to slits, peeking from beneath his lashes to check on you. 

“What’s up?” Sirius asks, rubbing your hip. “Don’t feel like it?” 

“No, I just…” you rub your lips together nervously, and you see his eyes drop to the motion. Already large pupils growing larger. “I wanted to know if I can ask you something.” 

Sirius’ eyes skim over you, a slow perusal that’s probably meant to deduce the cause of your anxiety but only serves to worsen it. “Sure you can,” he says, tone somewhat gentler than usual. “What is it, sweetness?” 

“Could you maybe,” you ask hesitantly, wishing you could lean away from him, as if some distance between you would make this any less embarrassing, “teach me to give you a blowjob?” 

Sirius’ lips part in surprise. This time it’s Remus who you catch looking over, a second before James breaks their kiss, sitting up over Remus’ torso. 

“You wanna learn?” James asks, lips bitten red and swollen. 

You glance between him and Sirius, not quite sure who to look at. “Yeah?” you say, hating the way your voice crawls up into a question. 

Sirius’ eyebrows twitch together. “You know you don’t have to,” he says, “right?” 

“I know.” You give him a little smile. “I’m just curious, I guess.” 

“Okay,” he says. His thumb sweeps over your hip like he knows you need the reassurance. “Yeah, we can show you, gorgeous. Wanna do it sitting down?” 

You take a breath, nodding before crawling out from under him and kneeling on the floor by the bed. Sirius follows you, sitting on the edge of the mattress and spreading his legs wide. Your brain buzzes in response to the erection you can see bulging through his pants. 

You glance towards the other boys. “Are you guys just going to…watch?” 

They’ve both been staring at you, but now James grins sheepishly. “If you don’t mind.” 

“We can help, if you’re alright with that,” Remus offers. “Give you tips.” 

You can feel your face growing warm at the prospect of them being witness to your bumbling first attempt, but you don’t hate the idea of them coaching you through it. 

“M’kay,” you say. “Um, what do I do?” 

“Try taking it out, sweetheart.” There’s a bit of laughter in Remus’ voice, but his hand is gentle as he reaches over the edge of the bed, brushing your hair behind your ear. 

Your eyes flit up to Sirius’ face. He gives you a smile, and you undo his pants, pulling down the waistband of his underwear so that his length springs free. For a few moments you just look at it, wetting your lips before looking to the boys for direction. 

“Here.” James gets down on the floor beside you and takes your hand in his, guiding it to Sirius’ shaft. “You’re probably gonna want to start by holding it like this, okay?” He wraps your fingers around the base. “Good. Now be careful to cover your teeth, and just try putting it in your mouth.” 

Just? You glance up at Sirius again, and a bit of pride swells in you at the undisguised lust in his expression.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you tell him softly. 

“Me neither,” he jokes, reaching down to thumb affectionately at your cheek. “You won’t hurt me, baby. And you can stop anytime you want, you know that. If you don’t like it, just stop.” 

You bob your head, wrap your lips around your teeth, and take him into your mouth before you can think too hard about it. His cock feels odd and weighty on your tongue. You lean forward a bit, seeing how far you can go. 

“Breathe through your nose,” Remus instructs. “Try sucking on it, whenever you’re ready.” 

You let your jaw relax, sucking experimentally, like you might on a popsicle. Sirius moans. 

“Just like that,” he says, voice taking on a thick quality. “Fuck, good job, baby.” 

Warmth unfurls in your gut at the praise. You suckle a bit longer, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth before you begin moving slowly forward and backward. After a few tries, your lips are making contact with the curled O of your thumb and forefinger each time. Sirius’ cock twitches in your mouth. 

“You’ve got it, angel.” James’ big hand roves the curves of your side, his touch steadying your nerves and stirring that heat in your core. “Don’t rush yourself, but if you wanna take him deeper you can take your hand off.” 

You do it with little hesitation, high on praise and the rush of what you’ve already accomplished, and ease more of Sirius’ shaft into your mouth. He puts a hand in your hair to help you along, but then all of a sudden it’s too deep, too big, too much. You gag, choking. 

Sirius’ hand disappears instantly, but you’re not so ready to give up. Your throat spasms around the intrusion, vision blurring as you try to breathe through your nose. 

“Easy,” Remus murmurs.

You finally can’t stand it anymore, pulling away and drawing in a gasping breath. 

“Shit,” Sirius says, and you lift your teary eyes to his embarrassedly while James rubs your back. “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” you manage, swallowing. “Sorry.” 

His eyes go soft. “Don’t be sorry, you did great. Do you wanna stop now?” 

You shake your head. “I think I just need a second.” 

He nods, and there’s a few seconds of quiet, James' hand coasting up and down your spine. “Do you think a demonstration would help?’ he asks. 

You swipe under your lashes, looking over at him curiously. “Um, maybe? I’m not sure.” 

He exchanges a quick look with Remus before grinning, shuffling closer to where the other boy sits at the edge of the bed and taking off his glasses. “Here. Sirius, talk her through what I’m doing, yeah?” 

Sirius seems about as transfixed by what’s about to happen as you are, but he nods. James does as you had, taking Remus’ cock out of his pants, and there’s no need to get it warmed up after the show you’ve been giving them. He feeds it right into his mouth. Remus groans as James takes his entire length expertly, fisting a hand in the other boy’s curly hair. 

“Right. Um, see how he’s breathing deep through his nose?” Sirius clears his throat, voice noticeably rough as he watches James’ lips move over Remus’ shaft. “He’s keeping his throat relaxed, not moving back and forth too much.” 

You watch as James’ mouth grows wet with spit and slick, his eyes watering a bit as he fights his gag reflex. His throat bobs, and Remus swears, his grip tightening on James’ hair. 

“And when he swallows,” Sirius manages, “his throat tightens, which is…uh, nice.” 

Remus lets out a breathy, half-delirious laugh at Sirius’ commentary. His cheeks are flushed red from pleasure and the attention, and it’s not long before curses start to spew from his mouth and he goes rigid, cuming down James’ throat. James swallows, grinning up at him. Lips and eyes shiny.

You and Sirius watch them for a few seconds longer, entranced by the sight of your boyfriends. 

“Okay.” You clear your throat. “Um, thanks.” 

“Yeah, thanks,” Remus says weakly, and you have to swallow a laugh. 

You turn to Sirius. “I think I’m ready to try again.” 

He gestures as if to say Go right ahead, and you take his shaft in your hand, guiding it back into your mouth. Once again, it takes time to adjust to the feeling, but this time when his head hits the back of your throat you’re ready for it. You breathe steadily through your mouth, focussing on staying relaxed as you suck gently. 

“There you go, angel,” James praises, putting his glasses back on to watch you. “You’re taking him so well.” 

“Fucking yeah she is,” Sirius agrees, voice growing reedy as he starts to pant. You take one of his legs to steady yourself, hand wrapping around a tattoo on his thigh. “Look at me, baby.” 

You lift your watery eyes to his, finding the stormcloud gray nearly eclipsed by dark pupil. The raw want in them makes your cunt throb. Sirius must find your face nearly as arousing, because he mutters another quiet, Fuck.

You’re distantly conscious of Remus shuffling back to the edge of the bed, and then he’s laying his head on his arms, gazing down at you. “Look at you, such a quick learner,” he hums. “You’re doing such a good job, sweetheart. Making him feel so good.” 

“Look at her eyes,” James says, just loud enough so you can hear. You know they’re aware of what their words are doing to you, of the wetness pooling in your underwear. “She looks so pretty like this, doesn’t she?” 

“She does,” Remus agrees. “Our pretty girl.” 

You move a bit more surely over Sirius’ length, constricting your throat tentatively. Sirius moans loudly, his hand twitching toward you before he stops it. You take it in yours, setting it on the back of your head so he can guide you the way he wants. 

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he pants, tangling his hand in your hair. “So good f’me.” 

You make a small, pleasurable sound, and another moan slips from between his lips, his hand urging you closer. You breathe through it when his cock sponges against the back of your throat, starting to enjoy the odd sensation of your mouth and throat being so deliciously full—and, if you’re being honest with yourself, the feeling of knowing you’re doing well. And if Sirius’ increasingly loud curses and the other boys’ murmured praise are anything to go by, you’re doing rather well. 

“God, I wish you could see how you look right now,” James says, voice smooth as velvet as he drops a kiss on your shoulder. “You’re so lovely.” 

“Fucking hot, s’what she is,” Sirius insists, brows coming together so urgently you wonder for a second if he’s in pain. “Fuck. Shit, where can I cum?” 

You don’t take your mouth off his cock, doing your best to communicate with your eyes. Sirius seems to get the message, his grip on your hair tightening, pulling at your scalp as his thigh tenses under your hand. You swallow hurriedly, and the sounds that leave him will echo in your dreams for the rest of the week, loud, pleady moans interspersed with mangled curses. Your mouth fills with warm wetness, and you ease him out of your throat before swallowing again. 

“There we are.” James tugs you gently away when he realizes neither you or Sirius are moving, pulling you half into his lap. “You did it, sweetheart, great job.” 

He strokes his thumb under your eyes for you, wiping away the wetness there as Remus watches you move your tongue around in your mouth funnily. 

“You alright?” he asks you.

You nod. “Tastes different than I thought it would,” you say. 

James laughs, the sound bright and clear. He plants a smacking kiss on your cheek. 

“Not bad, I hope,” Sirius says, voice still a bit stringy. He leans back on his elbows, watching you from the bed. 

You feel color rise to your cheeks. “No. Not bad.” 

His lips quirk up, eyes steady on yours. “That was fucking killer,” he tells you, “especially for your first time. Thanks for that, gorgeous.” 

You grin bashfully, dropping your eyes. James clears his throat loudly. 

“Right, right, and thank you for the demonstration,” Sirius adds. “Very instructive.” 

James beams, but Sirius only pats the bed next to him. 

“Why don’t you hop up here so I can give you a real thanks?” 

Impossibly, James’ smile widens. He’s quick to obey, Sirius moving to take his place on the floor. Your lips part, and you hear Remus chuckle. You turn to find his amber eyes watching you. They linger on your lips, still glossy and swollen. 

“Y’want me to help you out too, sweetheart?” He juts his chin toward the bed, a silent request for you to lie down. “Seems only fair, doesn’t it.” 

[andypantsx3]

part ii of the dragon shouto au : prequel + part i warnings: unedited lol, afab implied fem reader, possessive dragon boyfriend shouto, unrealistically excellent first time, 18+ minors please dni!!

the thing about having a human-shaped shouto on your hands was that he didn't quite seem to understand humans did things differently than dragons.

where before you'd cuddle up against shouto in his dragon form and spend the night insulated under his thick leathery wings, or let him rest his head in your lap as you absently stroked his scales—those things took on an entirely different connotation when you thought about performing them with a human man.

particularly a human man who looked like shouto.

shouto did not appreciate the distinction.

"i am yours and you are mine," he said simply, the third night after he'd transformed.

you'd tried to take him home, at first, unclear about what to do with an entire human man on your hands, but had quickly realized this unwise.

your parents, ordinarily traditional and fussy, had been floored by the audacity of your bringing a man home still unwed. but they had kept their distance once shouto's pupils went slitted, and a familiar guttural noise tore out of him when they attempted to remove you from him, not-quite-human-teeth snapping.

it was exactly as it had been when you'd brought him home as a child, and he a lizard the size of a fat cat. he'd staked an unmistakable claim on you, and any hand that got between you two would be severed.

so you'd taken shouto back out into the field where he'd transformed, in the interest of keeping your family home intact. you'd lit a fire again, camping out with him over night, trying to keep your distance and failing.

"it's different with humans," you said, freezing when shouto's head suddenly appeared in your lap. he looked up at you expectantly, those blue and grey eyes searching your face, a tiny frown on his lovely mouth.

"it is not different. you are mine in any form," he said. a large, elegant-fingered hand caught yours, guiding your hand up to his hair.

you laughed despite yourself, his insistence on being pet all too familiar in any form as well. carefully, you stroked your fingers through the red and white strands, marveling at their silky softness. shouto's eyes slipped closed and he let out a contented huff, long eyelashes sweeping the tops of his cheeks.

your face heated. he was very beautiful.

"in human custom, i can only belong to one man," you said to shouto, unable to keep the dismay from your voice.

you did not want to take a husband, and it would be all the more difficult now that the entire village had seen human shouto trailing after you the last few days, following you as he always did in his dragon form. except now they had all seen very human, very male hands on you, had seen how closely shouto shadowed you, as if your body was an extension of his own, and no space was needed between you.

you knew there was already talk.

"i am one man," shouto rumbled, turning his face into your stomach. something fluttery jumped in your stomach as the feeling of his soft exhalation over your hip bone.

"i meant a husband, shouto," you said. "i am obliged to take a husband."

shouto was quiet a moment, before another slow, hot breath warmed the fabric of your shirt. "you said i was the only boy for you."

something lightning hot raced up your spine, embarrassment mixed with the thrill of the implication. you looked into the fire for something to do with your attention, watching the flames lick over the logs.

"i said that when you were a dragon," you hissed, your ears prickling with heat. "i didn't mean you would be my husband."

a strong arm wound its way around your waist, pulling you that much closer to shouto, locking you against him. a fiery blue eye cracked open, fixing on you with inhuman intensity. the pupil looked a little slitted in the firelight, and you swallowed in apprehension.

"i am yours and you are mine. if that means i am to be your husband then i will be," shouto said with unmistakable decisiveness.

the thing in your stomach fluttered again, and your thighs shifted beneath shouto's head. his other hand gripped the flesh above your knee, holding you in place.

you choked, your hands freezing in shouto's mop of white-and-scarlet hair. "you don't know what that means."

his hands tightened on you. "i have lived among your people nearly as long as you have. i am not unfamiliar with human custom."

your face burned, words slipping out of your reach. did he really understand what he was saying here? you'd known he'd long understood you, but it had never been clearly exactly how much his dragon brain was processing. but now...

"but you can't—if you know what it means—shouto, you can't—"

a hot mouth met the skin of your stomach, just under your shirt, and the words choked off in your throat. a slow, careful nip to your skin made you freeze.

"i will be your husband and you will be mine," he purred, his voice slightly muffled against your skin. his mouth dragged over your hip.

your hand fisted in his hair, gripping on for purchase. shouto did not seem to mind, his mouth mapping the edge of your stomach, your hip, the waistline of your unladylike trousers.

a shaky breath escaped you. "there are parts of a human union, though, shouto, that i'm not sure you, um, quite understand."

the hand at your knee slid up your thigh as the hand at your back disappeared, reappearing at your hip, pulling the waist of your pants a little lower.

"i understand," shouto replied, his mouth meeting the newly exposed strip of skin above your pelvis. it was only his grip on you, the weight of him across your legs that kept you from jumping a mile into the air. "i have taken this form for that reason."

words failed you, their meanings slipping right out of your mind as shouto's mouth moved painfully gently and deliberately lower and lower.

"ah, shouto—" you managed.

shouto hummed, and you felt his eyelashes flutter against the skin of your stomach, though most of his face was obscured by the fall of your shirt.

"you smell like mine," he rumbled into your skin, sounding altogether too pleased. "i will make it so. i will keep you and care for you as you have kept and cared for me."

another trembling breath quivered in your lungs before you found yourself flat on your back on the ground. shouto had somehow managed to keep himself beneath your shirt, only this time his mouth met the underside of your chest bindings.

"you like it," his voice sounded wondering where it issued from beneath your shirt. you'd have found it comical if not for what he was saying. "you like this form—i can smell it."

his weight moved on your legs, shifting into the cradle of your thighs. he was so warm and broad over you, hot as fire even though the shirt and trousers you'd managed to wrangle him into.

you did not like being laid so bare, but shouto was your oldest friend, and your attention was rapidly being subsumed not by his words but by the feeling of your chest bindings coming undone under your shirt.

"shouto—you are, um, of course very handsome," you said, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders. you thought you should push him away to have this conversation from a safer distance, but your arms were barren of the strength to do so, instead clutching him closer. "but you've only been a man for a couple of days. what if there are other women who—oh—oh!"

a hot mouth closed over your left nipple, soft but firm as if in reprimand. "there are no other women. there is only you."

a hot tongue, a little longer than you thought might be normal, laved over the peak. your hips pressed up into shouto without your say so, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. he was doing a little too well under there.

"sho—shouto," you said when he found the other breast, long fingers pulling your bindings down to expose it to him. you'd never had a man's mouth on you before, except for the kiss shouto had given you upon first transforming.

the feeling was mind-numbingly good, and suddenly the idea of a husband—of shouto as your husband—was altogether too appealing, if this is what it was going to be like.

your hips shifted into him again, and you felt his rumbling purr in the meat of your breast.

"my treasure. mine." shouto said when he finally seemed satisfied with the attention he'd lavished on your breasts.

he pulled himself back out of your shirt, leaning in to take your mouth instead as he laid himself out over you. you could feel something firm and insistent press against your inner thigh, hot and hard and unmistakable.

shivers crawled up your skin, little frissons of pleasure.

"say you will be mine," shouto puffed against your mouth, his hands already yanking at your trousers. "please say you will be mine."

he was so handsome over you, your most steadfast friend wearing the most beautiful face you had ever seen, new to you and yet so undeniably familiar, somehow. the sight of him settled that feeling inside you you'd had your entire life, the feeling that the thing you were meant for was just out of reach, just beyond the next corner.

he looked like everything you were meant for—everything that was meant for you.

feeling strangely squirmish and shy, you managed an answer. "i always have been."

a heartbreakingly beautiful grin swept over shouto's mouth, a sweet half-moon. his pupils were unmistakably slitted, his two-toned eyes looking just as they did in his dragon form.

in a few shift movements shouto had you both divested of your trousers, and was pressing slowly, carefully inside you.

the feeling was strange, foreign. but with shouto over you, the weight of him holding you down kept you grounded, and soft kisses to your neck and shoulder kept you just distracted enough as he slid home inside of you.

you felt full in a way you'd never imagined, physically and otherwise. your nerves sparked to life when two of shouto's fingers found their way to where you connected, pressing firmly over your clit. a shivery moan escaped you, and shouto's mouth clamped down lightly over your shoulder.

"mine, mine, mine," he groaned into your skin, flexing his hips. the slide of him inside you was better than you'd known it would be, especially when he cupped the small of your back, pulling you into him at an angle.

between his fingers on your clit, rubbing little insistent circles, and the press of him inside of you, you quickly grew frantic, returning his thrusts with eager motions of your own hips, reveling in the way it sent sparks skittering up all your nerve endings.

your liked the way your breasts pressed into his chest, the firm way he held you to him, the bruises he was sucking into the skin of your neck. talented fingers pinched carefully at your clit, a slurry of sensation.

he seemed determined to work you up, hard and fast, and he was succeeding. you felt like pudding in his hands, melting, dripping, hot over his fingers. every single one of his movements seemed calculated to drive you insane, drive you to writhe against him harder, more desperately.

in no time at all you were gasping his name into the cool night air, chasing the release of an unfamiliar pressure.

"let go, love," shouto said, kissing your mouth again. "let go and be mine."

you nodded, words failing you as something inside of you snapped and a tidal wave of pleasure crashed into you, sweeping away all thought. shouto fucked you right through it, his groans rumbling into growls, full-throated and deep. the slide of him inside you became almost too much and you squirmed underneath him, but couldn't bring yourself to want it to stop.

shouto's thrusts grew faster, messier. you heard his fingers rake the ground at the side of your head as he finally came too, his slender hips grinding into your thigh as he spilled inside of you. he went rigid over you, huffing your name, until finally he relaxed into you, his hard body pinning you to the ground.

"this will be an interesting conversation to have," you said some minutes later, when both of you had settled. your hands found their way into shouto's hair again and he pressed up into them like a pleased tomcat.

"there will be no question now. you are my mate, and i am your husband," shouto said, sounding smug. his eyes were closed but you thought they would be glittering with pleasure if they were open.

"we'll still need to do the human ceremony," you said. "but i can't imagine anyone could stop us."

shouto all but purred. "i will eat them if they try."

you laughed, yanking on his hair. "you will do no such thing."

"then i will fly you off to the nearest cave and mate you so thoroughly no questions could ever be asked," he said instead. "there will be no doubt you are mine."

your thighs clenched involuntarily around his hips, and you could tell by the flutter of his long lashes that he was suppressing a smug expression.

"maybe for the honeymoon," you allowed, trying not to sound too interested.

but shouto was your oldest friend and you were learning he'd long known everything about you. "definitely for the honeymoon," he decided, shifting to pull you into the circle of his arms, tucked safely into his side.

you settled into his embrace, feeling truly content for the first time in your life, certain of the one thing shouto had been insisting this whole time.

you were his, and he was yours. always.

[crisiscutie]

Naga Sephiroth/Naga Darling headcanons.

I've been in the mood for more monster boy Sephy, so why not have some headcanons?

Content Warning: Teratophilia, Some NSFW. Dubcon.

Sephiroth was introduced to you by both of your breeders, in hopes of creating powerful offspring of war beasts.

And oh boy, he was not happy about being relocated to a new habitat.

He didn't seem too interested in you seemingly, keeping you at a distance from afar. His lack of hostility towards you was rather a good sign, since he can be quite vicious towards the breeders.

He'd even swipe at them if they kept invading his personal space. He was no fan of them, but the one that grinds his gears the most was Hojo.

He overheard him discussing breeding him with you before he was relocated, which only made Sephiroth rather quiet and even shy at times with you.

You didn't stop trying to get to know him, but you took it slow, leaving trinkets and makeshift meals from what the breeders provided you on his side of the habitat.

His intense, slitted pupils closely observed your every movement, whether you were slithering along the trees or taking a refreshing dip in the pond.

You were watching him a few times yourself. His beautiful gray iridescent scales always caught your attention.

You were startled to hear him speak for the very first time. It happened while you were playing with an unfortunate prey that had been placed in the habitat by one of the breeders to stimulate your hunting instincts.

"...Not bad. But this is how you can catch it faster,"

Sephiroth flicked his tongue, startling the prey into a momentary freeze.

Then, his massive, serpentine body slithered with a blurring grace, snatching the prey from your gasp and pinned it to the ground with a single claw. The prey didn't even have time to squeal before it was over.

Impressed, you challenged him to a hunt, betting that you could do better the next time the breeders released prey. He chuckled and accepted the challenge.

In that next time, you two became so competitive against the other, you ended up forgetting about the cowardly prey and just focused on the other, sparring with your tails and magic.

Of course, he was stronger, but you still put up a good fight, which only made him a bit more aggressive.

But you paused for a second when you saw his eyes darkening, his slit pupils constricting with an intensity you hadn't seen before.

His human half pinned you down, while your snake half was entangled and restrained by his own.

"m-my apologies..." Sephiroth whispered.

Unbeknownst to you, his twin cocks, engorged and slick, emerged from their sheaths.

You gasped when you felt them sliding into your cloaca with ease and little resistance.

Sephiroth averted his gaze, resting his head on your tits. His cocks were pulsating inside your warm, comfy hole.

They pumped deeper, harder, making your twin clits twitch with intense need.

Your snake half violently trembled, but with Sephiroth's half coiled around yours, you couldn't move much.

You moaned softly, wanting his cocks to go even further within you and his cum to fill your womb up.

You both fucked quietly for hours. The breeder meant to keep watch only noticed when she walked in to give you two your meals.

While tiptoeing around the intertwined snake halves of you and Sephiroth, she kept her hand over her mouth to silently note of your successful breeding.

When she drew too near, Sephiroth hissed, his predatory gaze a final warning.

She took the hint and ran back to safety, scared but eager to report on her findings.

In the meanwhile, he was still sheathed inside you, pumping cum.

Just a prototype for a different AU. May do more in the future.

A little support goes a long way! If you’d like to help me keep creating, you can do so at on my kofi!

[yawnderu]

bimbo!reader and simon facetiming while he’s away and maybe toys are involved 🤭

“Y'need this cock tha' bad, huh? Keep fuckin' yourself.” Simon's voice is filled with need, blown pupils fully focused on his phone screen, watching your legs spread open as a dildo thrusts in and out of your needy, sopping cunt. His grip around his cock tightens, his hand moving faster by the second at the tempting sight of his girlfriend masturbating.

“I miss tha' tight fuckin' pussy, angel.” He groans out, trying his best to stay focused on his phone despite the way his half-lidded eyes threaten to roll into his head as he continues to stroke himself, matching the rhythm of your thrusts. The sound of your whiny moans fills his ears, driving him closer to the edge.

“Show me how fuckin' wet y'are.” The show you're putting for him is camgirl-worthy, taking out the dildo just to slap the tip against your cunt, spreading it with your free hand to show him your dripping slit. Simon's eyes narrow with a mix of arousal and dominance at your obedience, the sounds of his dripping precum mixing in with your slickness.

His strokes become more urgent the moment you start fucking yourself with the dildo again, feeling every single inch of its thickness spreading your cunt open the same way Simon does, your brain shutting down more and more as the tip of the thick dildo keeps hitting your spongy cervix over and over.

“Fuck, 'm close.” He grunts out, his voice so strained that despite not being able to see his face, you can tell he's gritting his teeth. Simon adjusts the camera to give you a better view of his hand moving rapidly over his throbbing cock, mirroring your movements.

Your moans grow louder at the image of Simon's cock leaking precum like a broken faucet, watching as he lifts his tight black shirt, exposing his muscular stomach to you while his hand only moves down his shaft faster.

Your free hand goes down to your puffy clit, rubbing it in circles while you fuck yourself harder and deeper with the dildo, purposely hitting your needy cervix over and over. It doesn't take long for your orgasm to wash over you, cunt tightening up around the plastic cock, pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Good girl.” He rasps, watching with a mix of desire and satisfaction as you ride out your orgasm, your pretty moans growing louder. You can hear Simon's breathing becoming labored as he jerks off, finally succumbing to his own release. His muscular body tenses up as he spills his seed all over his hand and stomach, a guttural groan leaving his lips.

Rustling is heard as Simon's camera pans to his face, managing to give you a tired smile as he lays down, not having the energy to clean up the mess that he made just yet.

“Havin' fun, eh, LT?” Johnny's voice can be heard from a distance, making Simon almost drop his phone and give you a quick look before the call disconnects— off to beat Johnny's ass for interrupting his already limited time with you.

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[tired-biscuit]

have we considered...werewolf farmhand kiba...he likes being out in the wilderness with space to roam...he's big and strong and can do all the heavy lifting...he and akamaru would be perfect guard dogs for livestock.............he could breed the farmers daughter under the full moon................

cw: monsterfucking, breeding, pregnancy

oh god wait, now i’m thinking that since he’s part wild beast, he has a bit of trouble with understanding certain social cues from time to time, which leads him to stare at you like you’re something to eat while he works.

just this unmoving and completely unashamed leering that almost feels like borderline eye-fucking at certain points; especially during the summer, when your clothes are shorter and you start showing more skin.

you catch him doing it often, and while most people would simply look away after being caught, he’s not technically people, now is he? so he just keeps looking, and looking, and looking — dragging his dark brown eyes with their unnaturally thin slits for pupils up and down your legs, arms, the thin sliver of exposed skin on your stomach… all until you visibly start to squirm a little bit in response to all the attention you’re getting and he feels this strong sense of satisfaction rushing through his chest because of it.

but overall, he’s pretty sweet! while he may come across as intense and broody with his overly-rugged appearance and sharp teeth, he’s actually cute and perhaps even blushy whenever you praise him for a job well done and step onto the tips of your toes to ruffle his hair. he tries to pretend like it’s nothing, grunting something about how you’re distracting him from his work and that your dad is going to make him pay for it, even though he’s leaning further into your touch, silently begging for more.

sooner than later, curiosity gets the best of you and you start fooling around with him. however, he doesn’t dare step foot inside the house where his boss sleeps, so you have to keep sneaking out into the woods with him at night just so that you can explore each other’s bodies a little.

the forest can be scary when night falls, but you feel safe with him. he’s big and strong and extremely affectionate now that he’s bonded with you. besides that, he’s familiar with the trees and the soft grass that sways in the breeze, as well as all the creatures that lurk in the dark. you can trust him to get you back home safely, even if he has to watch you slip past your front door from a distance.

everything goes well for the first couple of months, but then you decide that you want him when he’s very close to his transformation, and all of a sudden your pussy ends up stretched and stuffed full with his knot; potent and hot werewolf cum steadily filling your womb. he’s lost control of himself and now he’s snarling and growling into your ear, breeding you like an animal. poor, poor you.

the cravings you begin to experience after that are not normal. you want your meat served practically raw and seem to remain completely insatiable no matter how many times he lets you sit on his cock. and god, your patience… there isn’t any of it left. you’re pure rage, feeling this endless urge to just sink your teeth into something and tear it right apart.

and what you also are, is pregnant with his pup. it shows in your scent, which consequently makes him incapable to work on the farm since he becomes aggressively protective whenever he’s near you and fails to listen to any sort of reason whatsoever.

you’ve got quite a problem on your hands. he could kill someone if they got too close.

[sunnywrites2]

Hi! I saw you asked for some requests and I hope this is ok :)

Could we maybe get some sephiroth x reader reverse comfort headcanons?

Of course!!!

You can immediately tell when something is terribly wrong. Sephiroth isn’t in any of his normal spots, nor with his friends. His schedule is supposed to be clear of any missions so obviously you’re confused and worried.

Then you find out he had a visit to the labs scheduled for today. Although he hasn’t told you much you’ve seen the way he acts in those cold sterile halls, he’s always different after too.

You find him eventually, leaving the labs just as you go to enter them, he isn’t wearing his coat, instead just having it sit on his shoulders. He doesn’t even look down to acknowledge your presence, his eyes looking straight ahead past you. He looks robotic, stiff and dissociating.

He only looks down at you when you call out to him, slit pupils dull. Sephiroth turns his head, looking away from you with his hair now covering his face. At first you’re stunned, what are you supposed to do? He looked almost sick, paler than usual and visibly sagging now that he’s seen you. Sephiroth turns back to you, pupils rounding out a bit.

“Can I…go to your quarters?”

He had been to your place before, but in this moment you could tell it wasn’t for any other reason than comfort. He just needs somewhere to hide away from the world, the world that sees him as a hero, a weapon, a monster.

It doesn’t take long for him to draw attention as you two make your way to your apartment. He’s still though, not looking at anyone and just walking ahead. You bring him up to your place, not caring much in the moment that rumors would surely spread about Sephiroth going home with you. As soon as he is out of the public eye he sags like a deflated balloon, so visibly tired and barely able to move beyond the entryway of your place. You don’t want to rush him though, or try to help him along with touch, the way he was clutching his coat over his shoulders gave the obvious impression that he didn’t want physical contact right now.

“Thank you.”

He walked over to your small worn down couch, slumping down into it. It was almost ironic to see such a big man on such a small couch, but in this moment it was more so sad. Sephiroth’s hair was damp with sweat and some mix of strong smelling chemicals, his entire body smelt like the same sterile environment he’d just left.

You stand by the couch, watching over him and studying his more exhausted appearance in your home. His leg keeps twitching, boot tapping softly against the floor and filling the space with the rhythmic sound of thumping. Sephiroth was clearly still disoriented so you knelt down in front of him, a comfortable distance away. You speak to him quietly asking him what he needs, how he was feeling.

“I just need time…I’m sorry you have to see me in such a pathetic state.”

He sounded defeated, eyes finally focusing on you. It was hard to imagine, the demon of Wutai, the legendary war hero, sat here in your little apartment thinking he was pathetic for having needs and feelings.

You spoke to him, for the rest of the day and well into the night. After a few hours he loosened up, pupils round and eyes gaining some of their light back. He didn’t want touch, or pity, he just wanted a safe place to feel, to be emotionally vulnerable for once. He was always so strong, so stoic, yet so childish once you got to know him.

He fell asleep on your couch that night, curled up like a cat, buried underneath his long hair. You sat there with him all night, he needed you in that moment, so you would be there.

The next day he had apologized once again and left your apartment, seeming back to his usual emotionless demeanor. He never brought it up nor did he ever say what happened to make him need comfort. You didn’t pry, besides you had a feeling the answer would be too much for you. From what you did know about Hojo and the labs you were sure he must have been…scared. Now that you think about it that was the best word to describe how he acted that day: scared. Of the professor, of himself, his emotions, and the world around him.

End notes: Ughhhgua writing this on three hours of sleep was tough but rewarding, I love Sephiroth and I love writing him. I may be a gooner but I am a gooner with literacy comprehension skills.

[colonelarr0w]

Tagged - @quinnyundertow, @pweewee

A/N - This is a part 2 to this piece!

Word Count - 0.9k

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

Yuuji swallows the growing lump in his throat, clenching his hands into white-knuckled fists.  

Shit. 

< … > 

"Let her go," he says, willing his voice to be firm, but it falls short. He knows that he must sound absolutely pathetic in comparison to what he wants, but words were his only weapon.  

He couldn't clench his fists and fight – not when it was you. 

"So desperate. This little body must mean worlds to you, am I right brat?"  

Yuuji swallows the growing lump in his throat, staring into your eyes and wondering if somehow, you're staring back at him. He hopes that you're there somewhere, and wherever you were, he could reach you. 

He just needed to stall for long enough to make that happen.  

"Just let her go," Yuuji begs, taking a brave step forward. You … or rather Sukuna … takes a step away from him, creating distance that only shoves Yuuji's heart further down into his stomach. "You can do whatever you want, but just don't--" 

"You dare order me around? I spared you," Sukuna growls, tipping your head upward so that you could glare down your nose at Yuuji. He gulps, the coldness of your eyes such a foreign sight.  

"You said that … that you wouldn't do anything to hurt her," Yuuji recalls, desperation seeping into his tone as he takes another step towards Sukuna. Sukuna retaliates by forcing your body backward again. 

"When was I ever known to keep such meaningless promises?" Sukuna curls your lips upward into a smirk, tilting your head to the side and watching as Yuuji's face pales.  

Suddenly, your body contorts, your right hand curling into a white-knuckled fist that you promptly ram into your chest. Sukuna coughs, tilting your head down to glance at where your fist had connected with your chest.  

Yuuji watches in shock – watches as your right fist reels back again, this time connecting with your cheek. Again, Sukuna splutters, legs buckling slightly under the force with which you had punched up into your own face.  

"(Y/N)?" he mutters to himself, tilting his head. Sukuna, or rather you, jerk your head towards Yuuji. For a split second, just a singular split second, he can see that flicker of warmth that was just purely you.  

"That brat is … damn it," Sukuna snarls, nose crinkling in both frustration and disgust. He reaches your left hand towards your right, curling your fingers around your wrist and roughly tugging it downward.  

Somewhere in the darkness, you clench your hands into fists, operating blindly. This was your body. 

“Fucking brat!” Sukuna suddenly yells, your fingers losing grip over your own wrist. Your left hand releases your right, and once again, your fist connects with your cheek.  

Yuuji watches, eyes widening as the realization of what you were doing slowly seeps in. He has been right — you were still somewhere in there. 

“(Y/N)!” Yuuji yells out, bravely sprinting from his place and locking his arms around your waist, ignoring Sukuna’s vicious yells of protest. He tugs your back flush against his chest, closing his eyes and ignoring the pain that erupts in his chest as Sukuna forces you to squirm in Yuuji's hold. 

"Unhand me!" Sukuna shouts, kicking out one of your legs in the hopes that it would loosen Yuuji's grip. It doesn't. 

Your right hand trembles before shooting upward, palm covering your eyes and gripping tightly onto your temples. Sukuna lets out a frustrated shout, lips pulling back in an angered snarl. 

"C'mon (Y/N), c'mon," Yuuji whispers pleadingly, digging his heels into the ground and tightening his grip. Your body trembles for a moment, shaking against him before falling completely limp. "(Y/N)!" 

"And just what makes you think that you can take this body back?" Sukuna tilts his head at you, circling you like a lion would its prey. Calculating red eyes narrow at you, pupils narrowed into snake-like slits as you stare helplessly back at the King of Curses.  

"I won't let you--" 

"You won't let me what? You do understand how absolutely powerless you are in comparison to me, don't you?" Sukuna barks out a laugh, roughly taking hold of your face and forcing your gaze upon him.  

Your eyes water at the sudden pressure applied to your skin, body shaking as Sukuna lowers his face to be inches from yours – nose to nose.  

"I'll kill him with your hands," Sukuna smirks at you, relishing in the expression of horror that falls over your face. He bites back the rising laugh in his throat, instead releasing his hold on your face.  

You stare helplessly, lowering your head and staring down at your hands. Sukuna bends, kneeling in front of you and tilting his head.  

"What'll it be?" 

"(Y/N) …?" Yuuji murmurs, hands cradling either side of your face. He blinks back the tears in his eyes, staring down at your face and smiling as your eyes flicker to meet his own. His lips part to greet you again, eyes already crinkling at the corners.  

The marks on your face and wrists haven't … haven't faded.  

"(Y/N) …?" Yuuji whispers again, watching as you remove yourself from his lap and rise to your feet. Your back turns to him, then your head tilts to catch a glance of him from over your shoulder.  

Your lips curl upward into a smirk, eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing together. "(Y/N) is gone …" 

Yuuji's eyes widen, heart sinking as he too rises to his feet. His hands go slack as he stares at you.  

" … brat." 

HEHE if y'all want an alternate ending please let me know, but I had so much fucking fun writing this! 

[water-to-drink]

Be a Gladiolus in a Field of Belladonnas pt10

Tree Hugger

(Summary): After narrowly escaping detection from the Natlan army it seems that the one from before has caught up with you and company

Part 1 Last Part Next Part

✧ Masterlist ✧

(Characters): Traveler!Lumine, Paimon, Abyss Prince!Aether, Childe, and ???

(Tags/Warnings): gn!reader, potentially bad fight scene, potentially ooc, potential inaccurate descriptions of Natlan, (lmk if I missed anything)

(Word Count): 2.1k

You ran until the layer of snow became thinner and the crunch beneath your shoes resonated less and less. of a heatwave. You ran until the sun that was once rising now sets and paints the sky with a beautiful mixture of red, orange, and purple. You ran despite your feet hurting beyond belief, but the adrenaline kept you pushing forward. You ran despite your lungs burning hotter and a summer day in the midst

Your feet become heavy and your movements became almost sluggish, it seems that Lumine has noticed this

Lumine looks over her shoulder towards you but you see her looking over you and her eyes widen in horror. You look in the same direction and your heart dropped. Just far into the distance you spotted the same jaguar like mask you saw back in Snezhnaya coming at you full speed

“Guys, someone’s found us!” Lumine yelled as she quickly pushed you behind her and summoned her sword

Your assailant summons their weapon, a long wooden claymore lined with pieces of sharp obsidian blades. They swung it at the traveler who expertly dodged the attacks. When Lumine swings her sword the masked individual blocks it with a shield decorated with colorful feathers. They lift up their club to strike Lumine but Aether comes in and stops the attack

The two fall into a familiar rhythm of fighting the attacker and covering the other, Lumine making swings with her right hand whilst Aether does the same with his left hand

The assailant takes out a cord with 3 balls tied to the ends of it and they swing it above their head before throwing it. The string entangles itself around Lumine’s ankles making her fall to the ground. Aether looks at Lumine to ensure she’s okay

“Aether watch out!” Lumine warns

The prince turns around to see their attacker about to deal a blow, but they put up their shield to block the hydro infused arrows, however some water splashes onto them

Seeing the opportunity Aether throws a few lightning strikes towards the assailant to stun them

Childe uses his hydro vision to make a pair of blades and charges at them. Still in a daze the attacker couldn’t react in time to block the slices dealt by the ginger

Lumine finally was able to untangle herself from the bolas

“Childe get down!” Lumine warned and she blasted a large cryo attack at the assailant, freezing them in place

Finally getting their bearings the masked individual puts their hands up in defeat. “I admit defeat, I expected nothing less from the three of you.” They finally spoke

“Who are you?” Aether said while pointing his sword at their neck

Their hands slowly make their way behind their head to remove the mask from their face. You spot two rounded ears covered in a rosette pattern, yellow eyes with slits in the pupils, and short reddish hair

“Oh my god!” You shouted out in surprise. “Wait, who are you?”

“I’m the high priestess in Natlan, Chimalma, I aid the mighty warriors in various thing, but that’s a topic for some other time.” Chimalma introduced herself

“Why should we trust you, for all we know you could have alerted your forces about us.” Aether asked still untrusting of the supposed high priestess

“I know what happened between you and the Raiden Shogun, her seeing your golden blood.” They stated matter of factly. “I also know that the Fatui has been searching for these ‘primogems’, but you haven’t had any luck finding more.”

“How do you know that?!” Lumine asked as she and Childe got in front of you ready to protect you in a moment’s notice

“I don’t mean to bring harm to their Grace, we only wish to help you on your journey.”

“Wait, ‘we?’ Who else is with you?” You asked

“Chimalma wouldn’t have known about your situation if a little birdie hadn’t told her.” A voice replied, you turned your head to see the iconic long pink hair with pink ears drooping because of heavy gold earrings with purple gems, one earring holding an electro vision

“Yae?!” You, Lumine, and Paimon shouted in unison

“Why hello your Grace.” The Guji greeted

“Wh-why are you here?! And how did you know that I’m not the imposter?!”

“Well the Shogun puppet came to the shrine one day and told me about the incident, she even told me about despite Ei seeing your blood but she was forced to raise her blade against you.” You saw Yae’s usual playful expression uncharacteristically turn into one of pain. “I apologize for our little priestess’ brash behavior earlier, I will deal with them later.”

“Wait, I understand where she learned the incident with Ei but how did she learn about the Fatui?!”

“It’s simple,” Chimalma said as she raised her hand out and a blue hummingbird flew over and perched itself her hand. “I had spies watching.”

“Birds talk here?!” You gasped in shock

“They do but only a chosen few can understand them. Soon you’ll understand them.”

“We need to head out soon, it’s getting late and do something about your clothes.” Yae looks over her shoulder and made a little gesture with her hand, a decent sided wooden carriage pulled by animals you don’t recognize and two men dressed in what you assumed to be Natlan clothing come out of the carriage. The twin instantly get in front of you at the sight of the men, sensing your nervousness they give Yae the box and kneel down before you

“Just as Lady Chimalma said, we don’t mean to bring you any harm.” One stated

“We would rather see that our end is met by your hands if you see us as untrustworthy .” The other continued

“No, you’re good. I’m not killing anyone except my doppelganger.” You reassured them

“Natlan warriors are an intense bunch.” Yae said as she walks towards you with the wooden box. “I know it’s not much but it’s all that we could find in such a short period.” Yae opens the box to reveal 7 Primogems

You take the gems and they disappear into a glittery blue dust very reminiscent of a nebula in space. You felt a tiny bit of power course through your arm and up to your chest causing an involuntary shiver racks through your body

“Whoa, I actually felt something this time.” You chuckled

“That’s good to hear, but I know a more effective method to getting your old powers back.”

“Really? What is it?” Paimon asked

“We need to go to Natlan for that.” Chimalma said as she melted the ice trapping her feet in place

“Don’t worry, little one. I will ensure your safety.” Yae said putting her hand on your shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. “However, before we enter Natlan’s boarder’s you all need to change into something less eye catching.” Yae said gesturing to your clothes

The Guji snapped her fingers and the two men go back into the carriage and bring out various clothing items, they present them to you and company

“You have to change out of your clothes to avoid suspicion.” Yae advised

You and the others quickly put on the disguises which consisted of a thick cloth shirt, leggings with a rosette pattern similar to the one that Chimalma has on her ears, and a wooden helmet carved in the shape of a bird, but you were told that could be put on later when in Natlan. Now you resembled the two men clothing wise, you all were ushered into the carriage and settled in. There was only enough room for you and Miko to sit on one side while the others sat right in front of you. The carriage began to make the long journey from Snezhnaya to Natlan, maybe the fact that you were finally stationary in hours because you found yourself dozing off and you almost rested your head on Yae’s shoulder

“You look tired, my dear. Why don’t you rest a little for now.” Yae smiled as she patted her thighs inviting you to lay your head on them

“Oh! A-are you sure, don’t want to impose…” You stuttered out as heat rushes to your face

“Nonsense, you need all the rest you can get, remember you have a long journey ahead of you.”

“If you say so.” You said and laid your head down in her lap. Yae’s lap felt like heaven, you don’t know if it’s due to the fact that you’ve slept in a cave and spent the whole day running but her thighs were spiritually healing. You were so preoccupied with the comfort you were experiencing you completely missed the death glares thrown at Yae, who in turn smirked triumphantly

The next thing you feel is Yae gently shaking you awake, you sat up and in your groggy state you looked around and remembered where you are.

“We’re here.” Chimalma said as you all got out of the carriage and looked at the beautiful landscape. “Welcome to the nation of pyro, Natlan.”

“How did we get here that fast?” You asked in amazement

“It’s a secret~” Yae said holding her finger in front of her smirking lips

You look around to see reddish orange mountains with various paintings on them. A tap on your shoulder brings your attention towards Yae

“It isn’t safe to be out there for too long without your mask.”

You put on the wooden helmet and followed Yae and Chimalma who lead you and company to a tree with parts of its bark a glowing shade of blue

You see the two hybrids looking at you and the tree expectantly

“Ohh! Uhh, how do I ‘resonate’ with the tree?” You asked

“The same way our dear traveler resonates with the statues of the seven, by touching them.” Yae answered

You hesitantly extends your hands and rest your finger tips on the tree. After a while your tense shoulders slowly relax and you press your palms on the bark. The moment you spot the blue parts of the tree start glowing brighter than before you instantly withdrew your hands. The soft giggles from Yae drew your attention towards the Guji, she takes your hands and leads them back to the tree

“Relax, just concentrate on connecting with the tree.”

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, focusing on the tree you feel power and warmth course through you. You take your hands off the tree and open your eyes to see the blue parts glowing brightly

“So how do you feel?” Lumine asked

“That was intense, but other than that I feel the same.” You replied

“Summon some fire!” Chimalma urged

You hesitantly held out your dominant hand and imagined a flame coming out from your hand and once the image comes into your mind a decently sized fire envelopes your hand. Surprisingly the flame doesn’t hurt you and after a while the flame dies down into nothing

“Whoa, so the way for their Grace to regain their powers is to touch these trees, kinda like Lumine with the statues of the seven?” Paimon asked as she rubbed her chin

“Very intuitive little one, as to why it works for the Ley Lines instead of the statues I do not know.” Yae explains

You spot Aether wanting to say something but stopping himself from doing so, you stopped yourself from prying so to not make the situation awkward

“Now that we’re done here, let’s go time is of the essence.” Yae begins to walk away from the tree

“Wait before you go,” Chimalma said as she knelt down before you. “take this sword with you.” You took the sword and take it out of its sheath to examine it, a brown hilt leading to a blade with similar blue stripes as the tree you just resonated with

“Why are you giving their Grace a sword?! They have us to protect them!” Aether stated also offended at the implication that he and Lumine aren’t enough to protect you

“You never know and besides it’ll help jog up some memories.”

“I think you’re mistaken, I’ve never held a sword like this before.” You said

“Maybe in this life, but in your old life definitely. Everything that the old pyro archon knew, you taught it to them.”

You held the sword and felt something stir inside you and put it back in its sheath

“I’ll hold you to that statement.” You said

“I promise it’ll come in handy.”

You waved Chimalma goodbye and walk back to the carriage. Mentally preparing yourself for your next destination

The land of electro, Inazuma

Taglist:

@chuuya-brainrot @creation-magician @tartarsaucechi1de @vvyeislazzy @kokomisimpppp @aludicpoet @undecidingfate @annoying-mary @randomnatics @ventixthexanemoxarchon @bore2808 @lizzhearthz @ bidisasterforevermore @dxprived4-starboys @angstylittleb1tch @esthelily @yurivision @angelamelamela @d4y-dr3am3r @blackcoffex @not-the-shroom @raffaelo4ka @rebeccawinters @lhaol @artwitchh @imyme20 @nymphsdomain @sun7flowxr @itz-luna @flowerypesky @ghost-mint @mmmhyperfixation @legendaryexperthideout @lapinaenmicoche @sinsdumbdrabble @land-of-eternity @deathcvltcivilofficial

[melonsodypop]

*hugs you* Thank you so much again for another delicious writing! ❤ I can't help myself, sooooo~ Yakuza men and I absolutely have no shame allowing them to do whatever they want, any dirty little fantasy they have with reader? What would it be? Tysm, you're amazing! <3

yakuza men acting out their dirtiest fantasies !

✫ pairing -  kazuma kiryu, goro majima, taiga saejima, shun akiyama, y0!akira nishikiyama, daigo dojima, ryuji goda/afab!reader (all seperate)

✫  tags -  nsfw, minors dni, bullet list format, no gendered terms used, piv, oral (both male and reader receiving), camming/facetime sex, free use, unprotected sex (be smart), degradation (slut, whore), aftercare, reader wears a skirt, primal play, breeding mention, mentions of cumming inside, semipublic sex/exhibitionism, petplay, collaring, use of petnames (doll, pet), rough sex, breathplay/choking

✫  a/n - there is no such thing as shame on this account, we are all holding hands in the delulu no matter how filthy it is <33

kazuma kiryu ✫ giving him a camshow

so we all know the camshow minigame in 6 right..... yeah

good luck getting him to admit this one to you, kiryu would probably rather chop off one of his limbs

he hasn't dared to touch any sort of pornographic material since he started dating you - he's a loyal man and glancing at other people that aren't you is simply not in the question

the only way that you'd probably figure out that this is something you're into is by complete accident

you're on facetime with him while you're in bed one day, his business having taken him to some other part of japan away from you

things are going as normal until you reach over to the nightstand to grab a glass of water, the camera tilting down to your chest

kiryu stutters to a stop mid-sentence at the sight of your smooth skin and cleavage under a flimsy tank top

despite his slacks tightening to an uncomfortable degree, he tries to play it off when you call him out on it

"i-it's nothing. as i was saying-"

you COULD let him off the hook, but you can see how red his ears are getting even through the shitty hotel wi-fi-induced crunchiness of his video feed

kiryu's breath hitches as you tilt your phone down to your chest again, watching with dilated pupils as you reach up to slip one of the straps of your tank top off your shoulder

"w-what are you doing-?"

lets out a deep sigh when you ask him if he wants you to stop, his eyes screwing shut and his head falling back against the back of the hotel's armchair

".... no. keep going"

kiryu feels lightheaded as you slowly, teasingly slip your tank top down to expose your tits to the camera

he knows you're saying things to him, but all he can focus on is the breathy lilt of your voice and the way your hands are kneading at your own breasts

fuck, he feels so dirty for doing this - but it's been too long since he's been able to touch you and something about the sight of your body through a shaky camera lens on his little phone screen is just doing it for him

you hear a rustling of fabric and the muffled sound of his zipper, kiryu's jaw tensing as he hisses through his teeth - is he-?

"so fucking beautiful," he manages to grit out, his hand fisting his stiff cock, thumbing his pre-cum-soaked slit in time with your fingers circling your nipples

starts telling you to touch yourself, too - distance be damned, he wants to cum in tandem with you

if he ever turns the camera around to show you himself stroking his cock, the angle is going to be... bad, but the sound of his choked grunts and the sheer redness of his cock will make up for it

paints his abs with the thickest load of cum he thinks he's ever shot, a barely suppressed growl rumbling in his chest after he hears your breathy orgasm through the phone

is thoroughly embarrassed whenever you mention it again - but you and him both know that if you ever start to strip on camera again, he's not going to stop you

goro majima ✫ free use

if there's one thing that majima values over everything else, it's being able to do whatever he wants whenever he wants

he's pretty open about talking about whatever when it comes to sex, so when you two are hanging at his apartment and you ask him about his absolute dirtiest fantasy he already has an answer locked and loaded

your intrigue only grows when he assures you that you don't have to act it out with him unless you REALLY want to

launches into the nastiest, most vivid description of him being able to use your body whenever and however he wants to - bending you over whatever surface is closest without warning, ruining whatever hole of yours he feels like in the moment, you taking it like the good little slut you are

his lips twist into a predatory grin when you tell him that you'd be more than willing to let him do that

"well, what's the point in wastin' any more time? take those damn panties off - ya won't need 'em"

gets too impatient to let you do it yourself, pulling you close and reaching under the hem of your skirt to rip them off your body

scoffs at your whines about how that was your favorite pair - "shut up, y'know i'll buy ya more, doll"

turns you around and presses a firm hand between your shoulder blades to bend you over the coffee table, a low whistle when he sees how wet you've already gotten

"you this worked up already? haven't even touched ya - must like the idea of me using this pretty little hole like a fleshlight that much, huh?"

pushes himself into your heat without another moment's hesitation, thrusting into you wildly from behind while you can do nothing but squirm and cry out in his grasp

for the rest of the evening, he's determined to take you on every surface in the apartment

and he nearly does - fucking you in his lap on the couch, propping you up on the kitchen counter to eat his own cum out of you, forcing his cock down your throat as you kneel in front of him with his back against a wall, taking you in prone bone against the floor because he couldn't even be bothered to move you to a proper surface

he's only satisfied once every inch of your skin is painted with his cum, your body twitching and your facial expression so cutely fucked out

carries you to the bathroom to clean you up before tenderly tucking you into bed, his gentle touch so unlike the animal of a man who had been shoving his cock into you from every angle moments before

kisses your forehead before snuggling in beside you, holding you to his chest in an unspoken apology for how rough he was

"ya did so good for me, doll, took me so well - get some rest, ya earned it"

taiga saejima ✫ primal play

far be it from saejima to ever do anything to hurt you or make you feel threatened

but he's a man driven by his inner instinct at his core

he really isn't the type to pour over pornographic materials or discuss that sort of thing with his buddies (read: majima), so he's a complete stranger to anything outside of just

so when you had decided to tease him one day by making him chase you through your apartment, he had no idea what to make of the simmering in his stomach that started to burn when he finally caught you and pinned you to the ground

he let you go with a forced casual laugh that time, but for the rest of the week he couldn't get the image of you helplessly trapped in his grasp out of his head

he's almost forgotten about it until one day he's getting hot and heavy with you, his brow furrowing in confusion when you pull your lips away from his

his breath hitches when you ask him what his deepest, darkest fantasy is, his mind flashing with the image of the moment he caught you in his arms

your eyes widen as he lifts you to your feet, his eyes dark with desire

"start runnin'. i'll give you a head start before i come after ya"

you don't need to be told twice before you dart away, the looming knowledge that saejima wasn't far behind making your heart pound in your chest

your lungs ache as you scramble into your bedroom closet, already hearing his heavy footsteps thudding against the floor

your head spins as your heartrate spikes as you hear him getting closer and closer

saejima would never to anything to hurt you - but your body's trembling reaction to the thought of him devouring you whole is also making arousal pool in your panties

the only warning you have that he's found you is the way the light shining under the door is shadowed by his boots, the door ripping open

you only get a passing glance at the feral gleam in saejima's eyes before he's grabbing you, throwing over you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before you're being unceremoniously plopped onto your bed

you're scrambling to catch your breath as he hungrily rips your clothes from your body, trapping you in his grasp as his thick cock splits you in half

doesn't hold back with the force and pace of his thrusts, rutting into you with reckless abandon as he litters your neck and shoulders with bites

"cute fuckin' bunny, thinkin' ya could get away from me - m'gonna breed ya so deep, yer not gonna be able to run anymore"

he usually's more conservative with his noises, but he's growling and panting as you cry and scratch at his back

safe to say, from that day on all you need to do to get this big tiger riled up is to start running from him

shun akiyama ✫ putting you in a bunnysuit

it's nothing crazy, but akiyama's not huge on any hard kinks or fetishes to begin with

like i said in my post about their kinks, akiyama's a big fan of costumes, but the playboy bunny getup in particular is an especially deep-cut preference of his

he probably takes the initiative to buy it for you one day, handing you a gift bag at the end of one of your dates and telling you with a wink to wait until you get home to put it on

you give him a questioning look right back, wondering what in the world he was up to this time - but you don't question it too much, waiting until you were back in your apartment to look in the bag

you almost choke when you finally lay out the entire ensemble - a skimpy black leotard with a puffy white tail pinned right on the lower back, fishnets, cuffs, a collar with a red bowtie - and of course, the headband with the bunny ears

ah, so that's why that dirty dog wanted you to open it at home - pulling that out at the restaurant you two were at would've been wildly inappropriate

there's a handwritten note from akiyama in the bag, too, scrawled in that hasty yet still elegant script of his

'Saw this in the window of that one shop on the east side of Kamurocho and couldn't resist. Only wear it if you want, but just know I think you'd look beautiful in it'

you roll your eyes at his antics, but it's not like it's the first time you've dressed up in something for him - so you undress and pull the costume on piece-by-piece

fortunately or unfortunately, he's right about the suit looking good on you - the leotard pushes your tits up in a way that's almost obscene and cinches your waist, and the bunny tail sits perfectly above the curve of your ass

and you had to admit, the bunny ears were cute, too

you're turning yourself around and admiring yourself in the mirror, deciding to snap a few pictures of yourself at different angles to send off to akiyama

when akiyama opens your text, he almost drops his phone and spits out the cigarette in his mouth - god, you look even better than he could have ever imagined

almost trips himself getting out the door of his own apartment, adjusting his tightening pants as he scrambles to text you back

'Coming over, don't take it off'

practically bursts into your apartment when you let him in, his hands immediately on you and his lips smothering yours

won't shut up about how hot you look as he pushes you onto your living room couch - "god, i knew you'd look amazing, babe, you look so sexy in this"

usually the type to tease you for as long as he can, but he can't wait any longer to taste you, hooking a finger in the crotch of the leotard to pull it aside and ripping a hole in the fishnets before he buries his face in your pussy

silently pats himself on the back for his impulsive financial decision when he feels the scrape of your fishnet-clad thighs on either side of his head - he'll have to get you to wear this more often

akira nishikiyama ✫ semi-public sex

i'm back on my "yakuza 0 era-nishiki is a young dumb impulsive risk-taker" bullshit

as possessive as he is, the thought of you two getting it on somewhere where you could easily get discovered gets him harder than anything else

it's the combination of the riskiness and the thought of everyone seeing that it's him fucking you and making you feel good

he's toyed with the idea before, even bringing it up during dirty talk as a way to rile you up, but the actual risk of getting caught and bringing any sort of shame on his family stops him from actually getting too handsy with you in public

which is why when you suddenly pull him into some back alley of kamurocho and start getting on your knees in front of him, he almost loses his shit right then and there

his eyes dart from the distant end of the alley to you, the thought that anyone could walk in and see you unzipping the front of his slacks making him throb visibly in his boxers

his hand comes up to gently stroke your hair as you pull his reddened cock out, a shuddered groan leaving his pretty lips as you lean in to kiss the bead of precum forming at his tip

"so dirty - gonna suck my cock right here? are you looking to get us caught, you little vixen?"

his head falls back against the concrete wall as your lips close around his length, his fingers threading in your hair as his hips buck into the warm cavern of your mouth

his eyes keep darting from the sight of his length disappearing down your throat to the other end of the alleyway, almost wishing that some punk would peek a little closer and see him claiming your mouth as his

doesn't even bother muffling his noises when he cums, letting his stuttered whimpers free as he unloads his hot seed down your throat

helps you onto your feet, giving you a sweet kiss before spinning you around and pressing your chest against the wall he was just leaning back on

"it's your turn, baby - gonna fuck you right here, show this entire town who you fuckin' belong to"

makes good on that promise, his cock churning your insides as he hooks two fingers into your mouth to muffle your desperate moans

"look at you, getting stuffed from both ends," he laughs airily into your ear, his hot breath spilling down your neck, "makin' such a pretty picture for all these people to see, aren't you?"

after making you cum by rubbing a few tight circles on your clit, pulls out and paints your ass with his release

tugs your panties back over and shoves your skirt back down before walking you back to your place with his arm possessively wrapped around your waist, a confident smirk on his face the whole time and already thinking of all the other places in town that he could take you

daigo dojima ✫ petplay

the last thing daigo wants to be is an overly controlling lover, so he holds himself back from restraining you too much in any aspect of life if he can help it

but sometimes he can't help that he wants your every movement under his control

which is why sometimes he fantasizes about you with a belled collar around your neck, a leash connected to the front of it wrapped tightly around his hand

he secretly has a custom collar made exactly to fit your pretty neck with his name engraved on the tag, a cute little bell on it and a matching leash

if you're into it and he's feeling especially freaky he'll probably buy a plug with a cute jewel at the end to stuff your puckered hole with, too

he's a little hesitant to show the collar to you, unsure of how you're going to react

but when your eyes sparkle at the sight of it, he knows that his anxieties were unfounded

tilts your head up so gently as he clips the collar and leash around your neck, cooing about how adorable you look

gently tugs you along until he's sitting with his long legs lazily spread on an armchair - "get on all fours, pet"

feels his cock twitch in his pants as he sees you oh-so-cutely crawling towards him, petting your hair gently as you hold yourself up with your hands on his knees

"cute. now, i'm going to have you learn a few tricks to earn your reward"

makes you beg, call him 'master', shake your cute hips - he's hypnotized by the way you so obediently follow every one of his commands

if you slip up and make a mistake or start acting a little bratty, he tugs at the leash and coldly tells you to try again

when he's finally satisfied that you're well-trained, he'll reach down to unzip his fly, his stiffened cock springing free from his boxers

"that's a good pet. now, take your reward"

a shuddered gasp leaves him as you learn forward to give his reddened tip a few kitten licks, his hips bucking up to chase your tongue

continues to stroke your hair lovingly as you take him entirely in your mouth, his balls drawing up into him when he spills his hot seed down your throat

tugs you up and into his lap by the leash, sitting you down on his cock and firmly thrusting up into you

"so good, pet, taking my cock so well - cum whenever you want, you earned it"

mentally notes to get himself a clicker for next time, determined to train you until you're completely, utterly obedient to him

ryuji goda ✫ letting him choke you

it's no secret that ryuji's a rough lover - if he hasn't fucked you hard enough to make you unable to walk the next day, he doesn't feel like he's done it right

but even he has standards, and he knows that suddenly choking you during sex without asking first is shitty

but you've started to pick up the signs that he wants to - holding you down with a hand so close to your throat but not on it, his fixation with marking your neck with hickeys, the way his grasp tightens on your arms or legs

he's got pretty huge hands, with thick calloused fingers and veins running up the back

so the mental image of it wrapped around your pretty little neck, your eyes brimming with tears as you grow more and more lightheaded - it's disgustingly arousing to ryuji, and unbeknownst to him, you as well

one night he's fucking you in missionary, your body folded like a pretzel just the way he likes it

he's holding you down with his hand splayed on your chest so his thrusts don't shift you too far up the bed when you decide that you really need that hand on your throat instead

his eyes flash with hunger as you weakly grab at his wrist, moving his hand up to your neck

the pace of his hips stutter, a satisfied growl rumbling in his chest as you guide his fingers to wrap around your throat

"oh, you dirty fuckin' whore," he laughs, his grip tightening and his fingers pressing right into those veins on the side of your throat that make you lightheaded

the pump of his cock into you gets rougher, his cock bullying into your walls hard enough to bruise as he holds you down by your neck

the sight of your eyes growing glassy as with his hand wrapped around your neck makes his cock throb inside of your slick walls, letting out an amused chuckle

"yeah, that's it - ya fuckin' like this? like getting fucked while i'm chokin' ya?"

from that point on, he makes a point to keep his palm firmly wrapped around your throat during sex, even if he doesn't squeeze

bonus points if you're able to withstand it long enough that his fingers leave bruises or red marks on your skin - his ego will be so huge that it'll take weeks for him to come back to his regularly inflated ego

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Always an Angel, Never the God

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Runaway!Reader

Words: 3,271

Your plans to run away with Hiccup fall through. Three years later, you finally make it off Berk and away from the Edge.

Tags: Gender neutral/intended Female, Runaway Reader, Angst, Unrequited love, Requited love, Heartbreak

Full - Next>

“-at’s for -id-apping me.” You heard, watching as he reeled back slightly, one shoulder jerking back farther than the other.

Toothless was there too, way off. Even with distance, you could still remember what it was like to have him before you, towering, frightening, thick, clawed paws and rippling shoulder muscles, pupils in the shape of slits. Now, he snorted, more conscious than you’d ever seen him, at the same time attentive and not. Open.

As you turned back, your soldiers hunching even further, hiding, you struggled hard to keep your wits about you, chest feeling light as you struggled to grasp at air.

You’d seen the axe.

You’d seen the axe.

It had been laid plainly on the ground, pressing itself deep into the grass like a foot grinding imprint into mud, solid as a God, making itself known, permanent and weighty as an ancient law carved into hard stone.

It’s owner, you hadn’t known, and yet as the sun set, it wrought dread pooling from every orifice like the curdling blood from the cleaved neck of an ox. 

Your back was aching against flat rock, the face of a small outcropping, large enough to keep you fully covered. 

There was something deep and electric tingling up your arms, freeing your muscles and curdling hope as you waited and prayed, the line that marked the beginning of one line burning, bursting, waiting.

You stared at dusty brown wicker, the most useful of your belongings cradled the seat of a stolen basket-pack, your eyes feeling heavy, weightier than metal in their sockets, the world around you feeling much too light and airy, both unreal and even moreso slogging than the few terrified hours you had spent alone, the hours that had been ended quite suddenly just a mere moment prior.

You had been afraid.

Afraid, with something like dread bubbling in your stomach, roiling wildly like the galled bubbles of a cauldron of hot water, left to burn recklessly over a raging fire, forgotten. Dangerous- a knife pointed towards a neck, scraping against skin, and the neck- it had been none other than your own, surely.

You feared the worst, especially after your frantic search bore no fruit- That he’d been found, and that something terrible had happened to him, but Hiccup was fine. 

He’d been fine, with Astrid, this whole time.

Even Toothless seemed to like her well enough. He didn’t like you, glaring and snapping when you got too close despite all of your efforts to get on his good side. 

He barely ever let you on. He certainly wouldn’t without Hiccup- you had the sneaking suspicion he’d buck if you tried. 

While you understood why he kept it to himself -it went against everything you’d known your whole lives- a small part of you couldn’t help but feel hurt at the fact that even as close friends he’d not told you about Toothless at all- not at first. When he’d done it, he did it with reluctance. You doubted he would’ve even bothered if he’d not seen you do so poorly at dragon training, if you hadn’t stumbled across him at just the wrong moment. He probably felt terrible, watching you fail over and over again when he could be doing something to help.

You hugged your knees tightly hidden behind rock and moss, fighting with yourself, struggling not to make a sound, as you peered around a jagged corner, listening in as the two young Vikings conversed.

Even if he never inherited the Chiefdom, the expectation that he’d marry was still heavy. You two were an inevitable couple, if not because of love, out solidarity. It wasn’t like either of you had any suitors. You were friends first, of course, but privately you hadn’t had a problem with… With marriage. You got along well and you could see a future with him where you were both alright if not happy, and you really, really liked him.

You knew he wanted someone else. He wanted someone who was confident, capable, who had good standing, who was also someone his father could be proud of... Someone who was more gorgeous than plain, someone like Astrid.

You weren’t the best Viking. You couldn’t work in the forge, you hadn’t a lot of lucrative talents at all and a measure of clumsiness and troublemaking that could rival Hiccup’s own, but you were friends, and that had to count for something.

He’d come to you with his plan to run away, after all- You were running away together, you’d thought, and yet- And yet somehow, some way, she was there. 

He left with her. 

He liked her- You knew that. And, you realized with mounting horror, as shadow-washed blonde locks teased the side of a freckled, soft face, she liked him too. 

You knew you’d never had a chance, but knowing it was different from seeing it.

You hadn’t had a chance in the world… You could never fault him for that.

Still, you couldn’t stop the tears from pooling in your eyes, or the tiny bits of your heart from splitting apart and scattering across the grass.

“-And… for- …else,” The wind carried the words to you gently, softly, worn by distance yet not at all delayed by time.

 

Conversely, he didn’t tell you when he flew off to battle with the rest of your peers. The whole thing with the Red Death? You missed it completely. You only found out later after Hiccup had been towed back to Berk on death's door.

“If I place a spring there, when I pull the lever, it shouldn’t catch. The gear system is supposed to help turn the barrel while I’m aiming. What do you think?” Brown leather guard met gauntlet as Hiccup rubbed his shoulder, bruised, no doubt the result of a hard fall he’d taken earlier on Toothless.

You nodded, eyeing the vast array of blueprints and open journals spread sideways in between the two of you. 

“Yeah, I got it,” You said as casually as you could manage, though the words felt hollow, “...But remember that one time, with the weeds and the clogging? Between the wheels and the frame, with the grass… You need to cover the space between lest you want it to jam again.”

Constantly spilling his heart out to you but saving the rest- the best parts of it for the other teens, the ones who used to jeer at him from the sidelines, who all of the sudden began to treat him well, but still jeered at you while he wasn’t looking- you were a hangers-on to their group, not very useful or funny, not spoken with or talked to or considered at all by anyone who wasn’t Hiccup. Just… there. Always.

It had been a long time since anything you said felt like it had held any weight, a long time since you’d felt like anything more than a ghost, a thin breeze. 

Hiccup picked up a yellowed paper, scrutinizing his own design, “Yeah… Yeah, you’re right. I don’t know If- if I shift the base… Yeah, that would work.”

Your friendship had, for lack of a better word, remained the nearly same, except now there was an undercurrent of something vicious under the surface of a black ocean, broiling and writhing like an angry serpent. 

Sometimes it felt like a sick corruption of the friendship you and Hiccup used to have, made up of long-held bonds forged through hardship and what you had thought were good times. Sometimes it felt as if you were better off than before and you could joke and laugh and play games the same way you had as children, and sometimes it felt like you were speaking to a stranger, one you weren’t sure you’d ever known at all; sometimes his mannerisms, his ticks and even the way he stood were alien to you.

You weren’t sure you recognized who he was anymore. You never asked why, afraid of the answer you might find.

“No problem,” You puffed, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. In that instant, your words felt loaded just as much as they held nothing- they felt fake, like a product of something much larger and uglier- they slipped off your tongue thickly, sluggishly, slimy, like a lie.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Hiccup shifted in his seat, clenching and unclenching his fingers, a nervous tick he’d had since the two of you were little, “Your dragon. Have you picked a name for it yet?”

“Ah, no,” You sighed, looking down at your knees, pants scuffed and mottled, “Honestly, I haven’t been able to find something he likes.”

Picky bastard.

Hiccup had helped you find a dragon before the lot of you had moved, a smallish Nadder who still didn’t feel much like your own who served you just as well as any other would. You did your best to serve it as well. You needed it, after all. 

The Nadder- he turned out to have just as much propensity for social upset as you, getting along with Stormfly, Toothless and no one else.

You had a very similar luck- to both his eyes and your dragon’s, it seemed you were no better or worse than any stranger, a far cry from the relationship you used to have with the beast. It suited you well- you weren’t so fond of the Night Fury, either.

Weighing the bottom of your boot against squeaky floorboard, clenching your hands together and loosening them lightly off to the side, you grimaced. 

Now, your life with the other Riders didn’t seem nearly as hard as it had been before. They had gotten used to you though you couldn’t say you were particularly close with anybody. You didn’t get any looks anymore though, nor would conversations stop once you entered a room. It was a minor comfort; You didn’t try to strike up conversation either, finally figuring that it was better to be silent than awkward. 

It still did nothing to soothe the hurt or to erase all of the years you’d spent hurting or to negate any of the time you spent on your lonesome which was still more often than not.

“If you don’t mind, I can-...” Hiccup leaned back, the both of you turning heads as your door creaked open, wood floors creaking as heavy boots moved across the threshold of your home. 

You gave Astrid a nod of acknowledgement as she approached your table. She tilted her head, glancing in your direction in response.

“Hiccup,” Astrid called, “Are we still flying tonight?”

“Astrid,” Hiccup greeted as he stood up, a soft smile stretching half the length of his face as he gathered his assets, leaving a few papers scattered across the top. He probably meant to come pick them up later, as he usually did, “Let me get my things.”

You tuned them out as they began speaking in earnest, leaning back to stare at the ceiling, fingers tapping against your elbows almost antsily as they took their leave, moving slower than you would have liked yet too fast for you to feel ready.

“Hey,” Hiccup looked back at you, all tawny freckles and slightly sun-darkened skin. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest. Fearfully, “I’ll see you later, right?”

“Right,” You said nearly at a mumble, refusing to look him in the eye, glancing off to a place somewhere over his shoulder where your wall’s planks had been unevenly nailed. Your stomach rolled guiltily as the door shut behind him, “I’ll see you later.”

You were sure he hadn’t heard. It was a relief.

You waited, shoulders stiff, arms braces against the table, listening as your door swung shut behind Hiccup, as it fell into your frame with a solid thunk and as the sound of his voice and her conversation got quieter and quieter as they wandered off into the distance.

You stood, pressing flat palms against wood and took in a deep breath, hands shaking so intensely you could hardly feel anything as you walked up to one shuttered window and slowly pushed it open like the two old, worn fold covers of a leather book.

You winced, blinking hard as you watched Hiccup sling his leg over Toothless’ back, Astrid grasping at the straps to Stormfly’s own saddle just before doing the same, mounting as her dragon took off into the sky, wings beating methodically as she hovered in front of him, waiting for him to follow. 

His Night Fury looked back, blinking, half disoriented. You turned away just before you could meet eyes, feeling quite vulnerable. 

“Right,” You muttered deeply, scuffing your boots against the floor. With your foot, out from under your table, you nudged a hefty pack- something measly you’d prepared earlier in the morning, when the line between night and day was most blurry, when the sky was still pitch and the stars winked above you, filled with something like shame and something almost like freedom, a little bit like death.

He may have found his happiness with the others, but.., you hadn’t. 

There was nothing much here for you to lose by leaving- grabbing your things and bolting in the night, the same way he’d planned it out all those years ago. You didn’t have much. 

With a quiet heave, you brought the pack over your shoulder. You didn’t stumble back, no -you’d grown at least that much- though you still felt its weight like a thin knife pulling at your back’s muscles. 

Glancing back out your open window, you watched them, Hiccup and Astrid. You felt safer, more hidden as distance fogged their edges, as they became nothing more or less than a few blurry dots in the sky.

You waited until they were nothing but a speck in the distance before you yourself stepped out into the open air, boot crunching against dirt and pebble, fresh air meeting your face, blasting past your nose, your wrist flicking against the heavy weight of wooden door, hearing the sound of heavy metal hand slamming back against it.  

It was not quite the feeling you’d imagined, more than a world unlike how they’d described it in the epics, with their brawny heroes, locking in battle, imprisoned, throwing off chains like dust in the air, feeling metal snap away from his wrist, hearing the sound of slightly dull tinkling and a thump as metal landed against patched dirt-and-grass-and-sometimes-stone flooring, but, well, you were no hero. 

You were just a coward. 

Still, something in your chest felt heavy -the place between your ribs, the line of muscle and bone where things felt the most sensitive- but it was better. It was lighter.

You stood still for a moment, waiting, listening to the outside, cool air ripping against your nose and lungs, expecting- what, regret? Nerves? 

The others wouldn’t notice. You knew it with a surety that steadied your limbs.

Fishlegs was busy in his hut. The twins and Snotlout- maybe they’d see you leaving, but you knew they wouldn’t ask why. They weren’t the type to feel much at all besides, perhaps, the vague expectation that you’d be back later. Hiccup and Astrid wouldn’t be back till late doing who-knows-what. 

On the Edge, you’d only managed a small, shoddy hut. You burst into motion, quickly rounding its corner, where, towering over you, lay a Nadder. It had been crouched over itself, guarding its feet like one might guard a clutch of eggs, wings folded over its body so everything else was nearly all hidden.

As you breathed heavily, quickly making yourself known as you approached it, it stood up onto its feet, titling precariously and dipping and kicking up dirt, the most awful Nadder you’d ever seen.

Its throat undulated as it chirruped and bobbed, high tones nearly reaching something growling the longer you waited. It had been patient, more so than you’d ever thought it capable- your last few hours with Hiccup had been quite sudden and unexpected.

You supposed it was eager.

Flying was more than just a method of transport- it was a sport, something done for leisure. Most of the Riders did it, and as a dragon perhaps almost belonging to a Rider, it was something he’d come to expect. It’d spent plenty watching the others, as they flew. 

You hadn’t yet, but then again, you hadn’t had a dragon. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary- it shouldn’t raise any eyebrows. You wouldn’t be stopped.

It wanted to soar.

You’d only just met and you already knew that much- you almost felt bad for not running sooner, but really, it had been out of your control.

Kicking off of the floor, you almost fell backwards with the weight at your back, gripping at a thick strap, nearly as wide as your palm, pulling at it, heaving yourself off as your Nadder twitched and bobbed and flexed its winged arms. 

You thought of how Astrid had mounted Stormfly earlier, moving easily with her dragon, swaying with its bobs, taking advantage of corded muscles in order to heave herself up, all in one smooth motion. You shoved down a spike of envy, spearing and prickling through your guts.

Stormfly was a smidgen more graceful than your own dragon. You guessed that was one thing you two had in common- you and your lizard, that was. The worst of two peoples; slightly snippish and odd in a way that repelled most of the others, a loner more by circumstance than by choice. Reckless, frustrated, mistake-prone cuts and rips and tears dotting rough scales and dry hide.

You knew what you were doing was wrong, not saying goodbye, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to spill the beans.

You grunted as you managed, finally, you haul yourself onto its back, draped over its saddle horizontally like a cloth over a fishing line. It took you a moment longer to right yourself, another to sling your leg over its back, nearly falling back again as your arms threatened to give out.

You bit your lip, lightly tapping your Nadder’s side with your heel, leaning hard in the opposite direction, your pack jerking roughly against your shoulders at the shift of weight. 

Hiccup… There was no use feeling guilty. He was your friend first. You’d lived your whole life that way, though soon, you’d have nothing between the two of you. If the fates allowed it, you’d never see him again. By that logic, it shouldn’t matter what he did. Not anymore.

You glanced one last time into the sky. 

There was nothing.

Your Nadder bowed, forcing you to lean forwards with it, its wings unfurling in a way that nearly clipped the side of your hut’s roof, threatening delicate-hardy membrane.

You shut your eyes tight, feeling something like a bounce, then a leap. The jostle of large, clawed feet once again meeting sky before you met air like a solid wall, roughly pressing against you, pushing you back, working against you more than your pack ever did, as if you’d never been meant to reach the skies. 

Then the moment was gone. 

As you blinked hastily, exchanging the painful weight of too-tight eyelids for the dryness of eye meeting speed and force, wind ripped past your cheeks in a way that ripped, made you wince, reminded you of devastating winders, hail and sleet so frosty it burned. 

You weren’t sure where exactly you were going, but you knew wherever it was, it would be good as long as it was as far, far away from here as possible.

[ruinparadox]

Full deamon husk x shy gn reader in a beauty and the beast like relationship

I'm actually so upset I hadn't thought of this idea before because its so good. Like, you can't just drop a banger idea like this and just not elaborate!

The Beast and his Beauty - Full demon form overlord Husk x Gn!Reader

It’s been a few months since that fateful day. A casino stands at the edge of the city, all but abandoned. The tables are barren, the cards are rotted, and the castle-like building has only one resident, and now one hostage. You swore up and down to your friend that they should not just throw themselves into the casino just to fish for gold and whatnot on the off chance that the overlord who purportedly lives there has somehow died off in the past few centuries of his life.

But no matter how you tried, no matter how you pleaded, they simply waved you off and made for the decrepit castle. One day turned into two. Two days turned into a week into a month, and you left for the castle as well. Other sinners called out to you, trying to warn you of the dangers, but you didn’t heed them. Your friend was in danger and you needed to help them, safety be damned.

Interestingly, the casino stands opposite of the Hazbin Hotel. Atop a hill, behind a tall gate, sequestered away from the big city. It's such a short distance, yet so far away. The metal creaks as you push the entrance open, rust coating the exterior. And just like that you’re scrambling up the hill towards that ornate but blemished door. You grab the handle and notice that it isn’t locked. The mechanism must have eroded away or the overlord is eager to hunt for prey within his walls. Either way, you gain free entry into the estate.

Bravely, or perhaps foolishly, you call into the depths of the halls, your friend’s name reverberating like a siren call. And like a moth to a flame, the overlord appears. He is a hulking beast, his stature so tall he takes up half the entrance hall of the casino floor. His tail is covered in scars and spines, his wings tattered and frail, the colors of the feathers dull and grey. Barely enough plumes for him to assume a brief bout of flight. 

A snarl rumbles in his throat, his face riddled with soot with his face taking the shape of a tiger who’s muzzle is scrunched and wrinkled in perpetual anger. His eyes are like gemstones, glowing in the dark, his slit pupils watching your every move. He’s a predator eyeing prey in his territory. The scythes for talons and claws on his giant paws scratch the floor as he stalks towards you, leaving deep wounds in the marble panels.

“Why are you here?” You could feel the castle shake with his distorted voice. He sounds so… tired.

Why else are you here? For your friend. You demand to know where they are, right now. You demand for their release. 

“Friend? You mean this little plaything?” His tail comes around from behind him, the tip hooked through the hoop of a cage and your friend dangling inside it. “I am merely defending my home from intruders. Intruders such as you, if that wasn’t clear. Why should I release them?”

Indeed, why should he? He has no reason to care about you, a strange person trespassing on the monument to his shame. He has no desires to cling to, no vices to drown in. What could you possibly have to offer the beast who wants nothing but to be left alone?

A question that leaves you stumped. No amount of money could lift him from this state. He’d just gamble it all away again on the vain hopes some windfall might come his way. You can’t offer him power, he has that in droves, not that it's done him much good. And redemption is far too flimsy a concept for him to take on faith.

No, there’s only one thing you could give him. Your soul.

Immediately, your friend is banging at the bars of their cage, crying out in protest, but your gaze is fixed firmly on the beast towering over you, its breath brushing through your fur. 

“You would gamble away your soul on something so small?” He’s almost surprised you’d even considered it, let alone actually offered. But nevertheless, as terrified as you are, even as your body shakes in anxiety and fear, your gaze does not drop. You will see this through. Though to what end? Even you yourself aren’t sure.

His eyes narrow down at you, but he accepts your proposal. You utter an apology to your friend as they cry and beg for you to take it back. They’re cast out after the beast places a spell on them to never speak or mention anything about what took place and can never return to the castle beyond the gate.

In the next second, the beast has returned, and your friend is barred from the estate, their figure barely visibly beyond the gates at the foot of the hill. A golden manacle manifests itself around your neck, a chain rattling as it extends to the beast. You expect him to yank you towards him, but surprisingly, he doesn’t. Instead, he looks down on it, and lets it fall to the floor, its brilliant yet ominous glow fading out of sight.

You don’t even get a word in before he’s stalking off to some unknown part of the castle, his voice quiet as he mumbles for you to “do whatever you want.”

It's been a few months since that day, and you two have grown close since then. The beast, whose name you now know as “Husk,” is trapped in his own casino, surrounded by nothing but forgotten bets and dried up alcohol. He can’t even drink the pain away anymore. He refuses to elaborate when asked about what is keeping him here.

At first, he’s distant and grumpy, barely acknowledging your presence with small grunts, let alone words. You attempt to talk to him, but whether he can hear you, or is just outright ignoring you is anyone’s guess. With conversation a moot front, you attempt to at least make a space for yourself to sleep and live in. If you are going to be staying in a decrepit castle, you might as well make it as comfortable as you can.

He sees you attempting to clear out a room as best you can, but the dust, dirt, and rot are endless. Begrudgingly, he tells you to stop and to just sleep in his room. There’s a lot less dirt and it has the only bed in the entire building that hasn’t crumbled to dust.

The bed in question is more than half the size of the room, a large circle mattress dressed in blemished silk sheets. You imagine it must have looked lavish in the casino’s heyday. You find yourself impressed when it's revealed that the room is capable of housing both you and Husk, the giant resting his head on the empty half of the bed next to you. 

His breathing is soft, but given the size difference it's a veritable gust of wind ruffling your clothes in your sleep. No matter, you’ll just have to use a few more blankets from now on. Assuming there are still any left.

In the next few days you do some exploring of the grounds. You’re not allowed outside, lest you bring more intruders to disturb his territory, but you’re free to go wherever you wish inside. It is then you happen across a closet filled with dresses and other clothes somehow untouched by the ravages of time. Husk is equally surprised but says you can have them. Normally they’d be gifts for his employees if they excelled at their jobs but… well, you get the idea by now, don’t you?

Happily, you put one of them on, looking at yourself twirling about in a cracked vanity mirror. In the reflection, you catch Husk staring at you with a look that’s less than grumpy as he usually is. He notices you looking at him and immediately turns around, his tail nearly knocking you over as he grumbles about taking a nap.

The weeks go by and you catch Husk looking at you more and more, a glint of something you can’t quite recognize in his eyes. It escalates from there. Purrs rumbling the castle, an unexpected nuzzle here or there, and his tail gently wrapping around you.

He refuses to say anything about it until you confront him directly. Reluctantly, he tells you of days long past, when dancers lined the stage, when bright lights and strong drinks bathed the walls, when money flowed through the establishment like water through a dam… when a horrible deal gone wrong took everything from him and one by one, the people disappeared. 

Soon there were no dancers, no booze, no lights, and no money. He’s been here all alone in his self imposed exile. It's not that he can’t leave, but he won’t. For what purpose would that serve? There’s nothing waiting for him out there. Nothing that could fill the hole in his heart. A hole he carved out himself.

At least, that’s what he thought until recently. Until he felt a spark go off within him when he saw you wear that dress, smiling like you were ready to go dancing. He feels something for you, but he can’t trust himself to not mess it up, to not ruin it like he did everything else. 

You give him a smile and he feels his fur go warm for a bit. You tell him that he won’t know if it will work if he doesn’t try. That seems to touch something inside him and for the first time in a while, he smiles. 

That night, you two make for a ballroom. Not sure why a casino needs one, but neither of you really care right now. You two dance and dance throughout the night. Well, more like you’re the one dancing and he’s gently guiding you with his talons. He’s far too big to move about in such a manner without causing some damage.

Still, it doesn’t matter, both of you have fun, and the next few weeks, it only gets better. You two are now having dinner together with what little food you can find or afford, you’re allowed to go outside and buy or steal anything you need, and you now sleep together on the bed, his body curled around yours to give you all the warmth you need.

You tell your friend that you’re okay and you don’t need rescuing. You pack your things from the hotel and move them into Husk’s castle, saying goodbye to your friends while promising to visit. Redemption is overrated. And whether your lives end from being redeemed, or from an exorcist's blade, or perhaps they never end at all, you’re just happy to spend your life next to a beautiful creature such as he.

It doesn’t matter that he can’t return to his normal form anymore. You love him just the way he is.

[mysteriouscatstellation]

Why Does He Fly?

Raiting: G

Word Count: 499

Warnings: Magical Creatures

Author: shurshic_chan

Hermione knew exactly where to find the reclusive Malfoy these days: he would either be in the library or out on the Quidditch pitch. And she needed to find him—because if they didn’t finally choose a potion for their research project, she was going to hex him.

The weather outside was sunny and still, so it was obvious where she needed to go.

Malfoy’s platinum-blond head was visible from a distance. Now all that remained was to negotiate their joint project. Almost as if he had sensed her thoughts, he suddenly leapt onto his broom and shot upwards at an astonishing speed.

Hermione’s mouth fell open as she watched him rapidly disappear from sight. But something felt off. And that “something” revealed itself in the next moment when his broomstick plummeted to the ground, landing right at her feet, while its owner was circling above the field as a barely visible speck. A second later, he veered towards the Forbidden Forest. A cold knot tightened in her chest: the only wizard known to fly without spells or magical objects had been Voldemort, and considering Malfoy’s past, anything was possible.

There was no time to think. Hermione took off after him, frantically running through a mental list of spells that might come in handy—because if it turned out that Malfoy was about to devour yet another unicorn…

“This is illogical,” she huffed to herself, dodging a fallen boulder in her path. “He saw me.” She caught sight of her target, who had begun to descend at the edge of the forest not far from Hagrid's hut, and with surprise noticed wings on Malfoy. "Is he an Animagus? A shapeshifter?" And that was when she saw them—wings.

A Veela.

Hermione almost choked on her breath from the realisation (and also from the long run, but that was beside the point). Of course, Malfoy was an insufferable git—but he was an attractive insufferable git. And could it be that Veela genes had played a role in his family charming the judges and soften the final verdict? Lawyers and support from war heroes were necessary, but the human factor couldn't be discounted.

“Well, that explains a lot,” she muttered under her breath, still panting as she watched her stunned classmate, whose clothing was now reduced to nothing but his trousers and Quidditch guards. “After all, Narcissa Black was the only blonde in her entire family. Maybe that’s how Veela genetics show up.” She made a mental note to consult Fleur—and possibly Luna—just in case.

Gripping her wand so tightly her fingers ached, Hermione stepped cautiously towards Malfoy. He was spinning around on the spot, hands patting frantically at his wings, his neck—now covered in soft feathers, save for a strip of bare skin at his throat. His fingers and toes ended in sharp claws. His features had sharpened, but the sheer panic on his face made him look more bewildered than dangerous.

But one had to be even more careful with frightened animals.

She mentally smacked herself for even thinking of Malfoy as a creature—how could she expect to defend the rights of magical beings in her future career at the Ministry if she was this careless in her own thoughts?

Malfoy had gone completely still, watching her wand with wary, slit-pupilled eyes—like Crookshanks basking in the sun. Which meant, at least for now, he wasn’t planning to attack her.

“It’s all right. It’s just me,” she said, taking a careful step forward. She extended her free hand and gently scratched the side of his neck, just as she did with Crookshanks. Malfoy narrowed his eyes. She froze.

That was it. Any second now, he’d rip off her arm, and Hermione Granger would go down in history as the first recorded victim of a male Veela in centuries.

“Granger?”

“Hm?”

“Scratch a bit more.”