#have some lazy affection instead :)

[tanicus-caesareth]

guarana drama, damage control

[venmondiese]

THE WARM OF BOTH BODIES

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

✧Rating: +18 mdni explicit

✧word count: 3.1k

✧gif credit: aegon ✧ aemond

-ˋˏsummary: Dragons are greedy, and both of your brothers have perverted desires that you take no issue on entertaining. ✧Warnings: : MDNI 18+, mummy kink, lactation kink, breastfeeding, threesome (f/m/m), aegond, targcest, polyamory, oral (f and m receiving), masturbation (f and m receiving), aegon is the most submissive to exist, switch!aemond. ✧ this is a part from @targaryen-dynasty 's 3k celebration ! check all the other works too, and as always a pleasure to participate with my silly things and congrats to her ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ ✧ note: i added my own spice. it didn't say anything about aegond but i am... weak... #i tried

By no means had you known what being alone was like.

After Aemond, you were the fifth child of king Viserys to survive childhood. Daeron was your youngest by two years, and like your sister, you were dotted and cared for by your mother and father… unlike your brothers. 

Your mother had a weird way to demonstrate affection to them, you always thought. With Aegon was non-existent, and Aemond had this burden to be the reliable sibling amongst them all. 

When Aegon had to marry Helaena; you married Aemond. It was how the tradition dictates, and it was under your father’s wish, much to your mother’s dislike.

And just like Helaena, you recently had a daughter with Aemond, Rhaelle, who was the apple of his father’s eye. Yet, the only difference between your duty and Helaena’s is that she wasn’t the one who had to take care of Aegon. Instead, you took care of Aegon’s whims, alongside your husband’s.  

Aegon was greedy, whiny and clingy. He searched you whenever he wanted, following you around like a puppy for your attention. Whereas Aemond was quiet, reserved and embarrassed, but not less greedy. He often wanted comfort, praise for his action and the reassurance that he was doing no wrong in his desires. 

Both of them accepted the other, in a quiet agreement. You were a petulant person, and if you wanted, they knew this, all of it, would be over. So they shut up their differences for the sake of it.

Aegon was curled by your right side, lying on the bed of your chambers. Post coital bliss at its finest, as he was slightly sleepy, and even a bit grumpy when bothered. It had been some cold days, but the fire made it more bearable, and it gave some sense of cosiness to both. He was just resting, a bit sleepy, his head on your stomach as you read some silly book about Valyrian fashion, as his legs were pressed against your shoulder, as you slowly caressed his leg, soothing him like that.

You hear his soft yawn, as the laziness of the evening consumes you both as you are cuddled against the other for the warm. As Aegon draws slowly patterns upon the lower part of your chest, you feel the door of the chambers opening knowing it was your husband 

You lower your book, caressing Aegon’s heel and calf, as you look at Aemond, walking closer to the bed as he makes a slight face at seeing Aegon here, as if he wanted you all for himself. He takes his boots quickly, moving to take off his leather jerkin.

“Hi” You say, softly, and he hums. You can see it in the slight frown on his face. 

Aegon stirs a hit, not greeting Aemond as he sits on the bed, closer to you. Like a lazy cat, he yawns, and you feel his muscles stretching a bit. 

“Did you tuck Rhaelle?” Aemond asks, his shoulders tensed up as he takes off his eye patch and loses up his hair. He was tired, you could see.

“Yes, she is sleeping in the nursery…” You say softly, looking at him. “What is it?” You ask, seeing how Aemond wants something, yet he doesn’t know how to say it, looking at you a bit unsure. 

“Mummy” He whines softly, frowning as his tone was a bit sheepishly, sitting closer to you, by your left side. 

You press your lips together, looking at him as he seems so vulnerable, and tired, for whatever reason he probably will tell you later. Aegon nuzzles your stomach, his interest piqued on Aemond’s word, because if it involves Aemond, it will involve him as well. 

The unspoken words between you and Aemond are no obstacle to knowing what he wants. You know your brothers, surely, but Aemond was different. Aemond was your husband, and you knew him like the palm of your hand. 

Aemond nods shyly, as if agreeing with the thought on your mind, and he scoots closer once you sit better on the bed, leaning back properly on the pillows. Your nightgown is easy to untie at the front, more so when you are lactating and need an easy way to open the dress. Rhaelle would fuss and wail her little lungs out, so your clothes were always easy to undo. 

Now, if Rhaelle’s father and uncle enjoy the same, is another thing. 

You undo the laces in the front of your dress, and you know how Aegon reincorporates to sit, suddenly all woken up and interested in this. The dress is pure cotton, and it is comfortable to wear. You pull the fabric out of the way, and with their gazes following your each movement, you know it is a matter of time for them to hungrily latch onto you.

Aegon curls up to your right side, whereas Aemond does the same on your left. He always preferred your left, since the blind spot faces Aegon, so he doesn’t have to bear seeing him too. Aegon is much more shameless, clinging to you and moving his hips softly against your right side.

You feel both men getting closer, and their breaths hit your nipples as they nuzzle your blossom, in hopes of sucking hungrily.

 “Aegon…” you say softly as he was growing impatient, moving a bit as he pressed his face closer to your breast, restless and eager.

Aemond is never restless; he stayed still as he loved, caring. He always pressed faint kisses, around your tits, before suckling calmly. His left arm always found its way to wrap your waist, keeping you close to him as he delighted himself with soothing milk.

Instead, Aegon immediately latched onto your breast, suckling and trying to get all the milk he could, eagerly as he always seemed relentless, always craving more and more. He’d watch you with bright, purple eyes as he craved for your attention.

You comb their hair with your fingers, kiss the top of their heads and rub their back. They were your older brothers, but behaved like hungry little kittens that needed their milk.

Always was a bit strange, as they weren’t always amicable. It took a long time, for Aemond, at least, to join in. It was mainly due to the fact that Aegon rarely left you alone, even if you were Aemond’s wife. Little by little, they learned how to warm up to each other, and sometimes to your request, they’ll kiss.

The suckling sounds are loud, almost obscene, as you feel both swallow each drop from your leaking milk. Aemond had probably been tasting it since the end of your pregnancy, yet it didn’t tire him at all. And Aegon? He was always hungry, and he suckled and his tongue lapped your breast, milking more and more. 

You can feel how they swallow the milk, both eager. Aemond has a hand around your waist, as Aegon has his hand around your breast and squeezes it slightly as if to have more.

“Mummy” Aegon murmurs, pulling back as he looks at you, and he has wide purple eyes ��are we being good?”

The reassurance is a must, you realise with time. “Yes, baby. You both are my good boys” you murmur, caressing the top of their head “Both of you, my best boys…”

They delight themselves in the praise; you hear Aemond’s faint moans, as you feel his body at ease. You caress the back of his head, feeling the loose hairs on your fingers. 

It always made you feel the arousal settle in the lower part of your belly, and feeling so turned on you had to press your thighs together a bit. Aemond loved when your breast grew larger, and full of milk. Aegon was not behind that feeling, as he was the one to propose the idea to ‘help you with the heaviness of them’.

Aegon gulps on the milk like a glutton, and his eyes are closed in the delight of nursing. You feel his cock hardening little by little by your side. Aemond instead, looks at you. His eye is deep and intense, watching your face as his mouth is still working on your nipple, his tongue pressing against the nub getting more milk. His hand on your waist loosens up slightly, slowly moving down all the way to your stomach, and little by little, makes its way to your centre. 

Aegon is oblivious to that, as he suckles and slurps loudly, with not a care for the world, nipping and licking all of the sweet milk that your breast can produce. He whines a bit, scooping closer and closer as he tries to get more and more. 

“Doing such a good job for mummy, darlings…” You say to both, as you feel Aemond’s hand almost innocently brushing against your womanhood. “So good…” You murmur dreamily, sighing as Aegon nuzzles his face closer to your right breast, his nose brushing the skin as his mouth slightly presses a bit harder, eager for more.

They could feel you moving under their touch, almost possessive as they fed from you, keeping you right there at their mercy. The sound of your praise stirred something in both of them, yearning more of your affections, more of mummy’s affections. 

Aemond is the first one to pull away from your breast, beginning to shift as his body moves higher, his mouth kissing all the way up to kiss you in the lips. You hum, feeling the taste of your own milk on his lips. 

“Mummy” Aegon protests, not wanting to be left out as always, as he pulls away from your breast, an obscene sound from it as he moves his head to nuzzle your cheek, kissing lazily to keep on worshipping your body. 

Aware of how his hand was still between your legs, Aemond pressed it harder against your core, rubbing more firmly. As if wanting to draw more sounds from you, Aegon moves his hand to grope softly, carefully your breast, not wanting to leave a part from you unattended. 

“You are such good boys for me, always wanting to please me, hm?” You say, panting a bit from how good your husband's hands on your pussy feels.

“Yes mummy” Aemond murmurs, and Aegon nods in agreement. 

It’s as if Aemond knows your thoughts, because he turns to watch Aegon, moving slightly his other hand to place it on the back of his neck, pulling Aegon closer to share a slow, yet passionate kiss between both of them.

They could feel the milky taste in the other’s mouth, and you could see how their tongues crashed against each other, making it as sloppy as possible as they made out for quite some time, as Aemond’s fingers tried to pry into your clit and pussy. 

You know that at the beginning it was more to put on a show for you, for your delight that they agreed to do as well. If they enjoyed it, you could never know. But now it’s different, watching how they hungrily seek each other’s mouth, and if one tries to pull away, the other is quick to lean, following their mouth to keep on kissing. 

It’s hot, to say the least, and it makes wonders for your arousal to see both of them kiss like this. You think, for a moment, if you could maybe propose the idea for them to follow this lust for each other further. Maybe for another occasion. 

As Aemond’s lips move to kiss Aegon’s neck, you see how your baby seems so aroused, you could always see it clearly with Aegon, how his cheeks turned pinker and he had that blissful expression. You feel Aemond’s hand moving away from your core, and before you could ask anything, they both pulled away from each other. 

Aemond probably murmured something in Aegon's ear, because they shared a look before the eldest slowly turned to you. 

 “Mummy, can we please you…? We wanna taste your pussy… please…” he asked, and you see how Aemond looks at you, awaiting your answer, as his hand caresses your thigh softly.

You caress Aegon’s thigh softly, as they both almost look at you with puppy eyes. 

“Yes, my darlings. Please mummy with your mouths” 

It does not take them long to accommodate between your legs, Aemond presses one hand to your left leg, keeping it still. Aegon does not bother to do the same for your left thigh, as he has other priorities. 

You feel Aegon’s mouth first, his tongue tracing along her slit. Aemond moves his hand to the back of Aegon’s head, pushing his mouth further into your cunt, as the eldest savours your wetness. And at the sound of your moans, he doubles his efforts.

Then it’s Aegon who pulls your husband’s face down to join his mouth, both of them licking and sucking your wet cunt. You can see both of them, their cheeks pressed together as they pleasure you with their mouths at the same time, licking and slurping in unison.

“Fuck, f-fuck, gods…” you moan, your hips moving closer, grinding against his tongues, grabbing Aegon’s hair, short and easy to grab (unlike Aemond’s)

Aegon seems delighted at that, and you feel his tongue darting out to suck your clit eagerly, and you feel your jaw moving at the motion, and he whimpers with need. Aemond is, as always, focused as he slurps and sucks on her entrance, obscene sounds fill the room as his expert mouth works on you. 

They both clearly relish both the taste and the privilege of having their faces buried between your thighs, moving to please you, and their tongues crashing together as they do so. 

“Mummy, you taste so good” you don’t even recognise the sound, the sound muffled by the little space between his mouth and your folds. 

“Fuck, so good…” the other agrees, and your legs tremble, as your hips try to get more and more of their wicked tongues.

Aegon is the one whining, you know that. As you pull his hair, you see his needy eyes looking at you. You press your heel on his back, as if pushing him closer to your cunt. He moans, closing his eyes as he goes back to feasting on your pussy.

Aemond moved to your clit now, and you can see how the sapphire glints on the dim lights. You imagine that both of their cocks are rock hard, throbbing impatiently. 

Maybe it’s Aegon or Aemond (maybe both) the one who drools, while the muffled moans still come and go. You, on your side, are a mess, as you try to keep both of them close to you, feeling Aemond’s hand caressing your breast. Your pussy can’t take longer, and your hips grind against both of their faces, as you roll your eyes back and lean your head back in the pillows, as you feel your orgasm so close.

 “Fuck, babies, so good for mummy, fuck…” you mean it, moaning loudly as you feel them whimper.

“Wanna make you cum so hard, mummy…” Aegon’s raspy voice is a bit clearer, as you clench on his hair.

“Hmmmm” Aemond hums, not separating one bit from your cunt.

As you start cumming, both of them press their mouth against your pussy, wanting to taste your cum as they try to be the one to get more. You are cumming hard, and their greedy tongues only fuel your orgasm even more. 

Feeling your pussy quivering and pulsing around their tongues it's probably one of their favourite things, along with the rest of you. The feeling of your creamy juices made them greedy, and they share it all

Their faces are shiny with your arousal, and even when you retreat, they lick their lips as if wanting more. You can’t exactly see in the faces of your brother’s what they are thinking, but you feel tired to think about anything but the great orgasm you just had. 

You are not exactly sure who started the kiss, but it's messy and sloppy, as you see their tongues sharing the last tastes of your cum, as their hands clenched to the other to keep him close, and keep on the passionate kiss.

It’s Aemond who groans, Aegon pressing his body to his, almost humping his cock to any part of your husband’s skin, who holds him close, one hand on his jaw and the other moving down to the eldest hips.

You move a bit, sitting better on the bed, yet your back still leans on the pillows, body relaxed as you accommodate to watch them devour each other as one does sit to watch men fighting in a tourney. But both of them were involved in different practices, which was a show for you to see and most importantly- enjoy. 

You can see their tongues pressing together, their heads moving to not break the sloppy kiss, messy and passionate. They surely are doing this out of passion and lust, rather than rational thought, but you are not complaining.

Aegon’s hand comes to caress the firm abdomen of Aemond, like you enjoy doing. Your husband is a creature of many sides, and he can be as submissive as he can be dominant. He moves the hand on Aegon’s hip to grip his short hair, and keeps him in place to keep on kissing him. 

“Aem… mummy” Aegon’s little whines come in a low tone, and a bit slurred, as Aemond does not give his mouth a break. 

It takes you a while to notice that Aegon is using his hand to stroke Aemond’s cock, using the side of his thigh to hump and grind his own cock. He was needy, but he was too much of a needy baby to fight for dominance. Aegon relished on being submissive, either with you, or Aemond. 

Aemond breaks their kiss, his head falling back to pant, groaning slightly as Aegon uses his hand on his cock. You know Aegon is the most lustful creature since he discovered pleasure, and he was always good with his hands. 

“Mummy…” Aegon whines, wanting you to help him with his cock, and you move on your knees closer to where they were having this exchange of pleasure, because both of them wanted to cum very badly. 

Your hands on Aegon’s cock make him go weak, whimpering as he leans closer to Aemond, moving his lips down on his body, his abdomen and the tip of his cock.

“Good boys, hm? You both are such good boys for mummy, pleasuring yourselves…” You say, that sweet tone of yours makes Aemond’s arousal explode. 

“Fuck-” Aemond mutters, groaning and whimpering as he cums one of his hands moving to grip your shoulder, and as your hands stroke the eldest’s cock, your hand over stimulating movements on his cockhead, as if trying to replicate his tongue movements on Aemond’s tip. 

Aegon is greedy, and he whimpers, still pleasuring Aemond, his hips bucking on your hand, as his own orgasm hits hard. Aemond is the one holding him, as your baby’s orgasm hits him hard, trying not to fall on the bed, panting loudly and whimpering. 

He makes a little sound when you kiss him, wanting to taste Aemond’s cum on his tongue. It was delightful, and you feel his body melting on your touch. You feel how your other brother moves to caress the back of your head, nuzzling your shoulder and kissing it tenderly.

You could get used to this new dynamic, surely.

[chaptersleftunwritten]

What a lie, what a lie, what a lie…

Blurb: During a smoke session Eddie is betted $100 that he won’t be able to sleep with you by the time summer rolls around. He proves them wrong.

Pairing: Dickish!Eddie Munson x Virgin!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Gambling, depictions of sexual content, mentions of drugs being taken, cursing, alcohol consumption, graphic descriptions, a lot of emotional damage in this one… Characters are 20+ college students.

-

Ethereal fairy lights doused you and Eddie in a golden hazy glow, both of your bodies glittering magically with sweat as your naked limbs entangled each other in an intimate embrace.

But something between you two was forever changed after that night of steamy heartfelt affection and you felt it like a knife twisting in your sternum as you listened to Eddie leave your dorm room without a goodbye. Not even a kiss as he pulled his ripped jeans over the skin of his still damp legs and ran.

You were never one to fuss. You never wanted to cause a scene or create an issue that never existed in the first place- you were ‘the cool girl’… but when your gut is unable to move on from something then you must investigate. You had to, why else would Eddie have left so suddenly if there was nothing wrong?

You gave yourself to him. You showed him not only your nude body, but you bore your soul to him. No one had ever gotten close enough to you to be as privileged as he was. No one had saw you so exposed. So vulnerable. Until him.

Unbeknownst to Eddie at the time, you had allowed him to take your virginity. You trusted him with your entire being and you believed that you truly loved him. You loved him enough to bleed for him- to hurt for him…

And after he fled that night, you laid on your crimson stained sheets and sobbed yourself to sleep. You can’t blame him for not knowing- but you also prayed for some tenderness from him. Even if you weren’t a virgin, sex is such a sacred act and aftercare should always be incorporated.

The following morning you awoke to an emptiness you’d never experienced before. Something had shifted and your innocence was gone. Girlhood was over and adulthood fucking sucked.

-

- Steve’s off campus apartment, 6 weeks prior -

-

The tip of the meaty blunt embers brightly with every drag Eddie takes, his eyes are almost a florescent shade of red and Steve is on his seventh beer of the night, “C’mon man, that shit would be so easy.” Steve laughs, his Adam’s apple bobs prominently as he tips his head back to down the rest of his alcoholic beverage.

“Nah, not interested.” Eddie passes the joint to Jonathan who has almost been swallowed up completely by the beanbag his body is submerged in.

Steve gasps mockingly as his hands clasp together to crush the empty can of beer before he tosses it across the room- aiming for the trash can which he has already missed the past seven times… “I didn’t peg you as a chicken, Munson.” His fingers snap open another can, “Are ya scared or somethin’?” Steve’s eyebrows wiggle at Eddie and Eddie proceeds to drag his hand down his face, already tired of the conversation… or maybe it was just the weed settling into his system.

“I’m not scared, Harrington. I’m lazy. There’s a difference. Besides, what do I get out of it instead of a possible cream pie?” Eddie huffs a laugh, accompanied by Jonathan and Steve’s eyes spark with relentless mischief.

“If you put it like that…” Steve stuffs his hand into his pocket, rummaging around inside of the fabric before pulling out an array of objects. They consisted of a stray button, a small foil packet containing a condom and two $50 bills. He picks up the crumpled currency, slamming it in front of Eddie with a cocky grin splayed handsomely across his face, “A hundred bucks if you manage to bang her before summer.”

Steve knew that if he wanted to convince Eddie to do anything, he had to pay up. Whether it be drugs, booze or money, he knew if those three things were involved Eddie could be easily persuaded to do most things. And unfortunately… Eddie agrees.

“Fuck it, why not.” His hand slaps into Steve’s hard, the noise quaking through the small room as they shake on the agreement. This wasn’t the first time that Eddie had partook in some stupid shit suggested to him by Steve and Jonathan. He had done some crazy things before; jumping off of a roof into a dumpster (breaking his arm in the process), setting fire to his clothes just so he could test the ‘stop, drop and roll theory’, taking ecstasy before a rave (which led to him having a severely horrible psychedelic reaction) and the list goes on and on.

But this… this was a whole new level of low for Eddie. He knew it was wrong, but he just couldn’t let Steve win. His stubbornness would be the absolute death of him. Or so he thought…

“By summer! That’s… what? 7 weeks? Think you can tap that by then, Munson? Or is that not enough time…?” Steve was too confident, he could see this whole shit show going up in flames and he rejoiced in the idea of Eddie being the one having to pay up by the time the weather was its warmest.

“You’re fucking on, Harrington.” The words leave Eddie’s mouth in the form of a venomous competitive bite.

And just like that, the bet was confirmed.

-

The news arrived in the flesh form of Nancy Wheeler. Jonathan could never keep anything from her- he was sick with love and the guilt of the whole ordeal was eating him alive. He knew he would get the end of Steve’s wrath but he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to confess. Your only wish was that Nancy had known sooner. Before the damage was already done.

Your world was spinning on a side way axle when Nancy told you, and it has been spinning upside down ever since, “I can’t believe how moronic they all are! I’m so sorry you had to find out this way…” Her voice is washed out by a ringing that has taken over all of your senses. You were good at disassociation when it came to protecting your feelings- and that’s what you were doing. Nancy had no idea that you had totally zoned out whilst she continued to rabble on about how Steve had changed and how disappointed she was in Jonathan. Your mind was completely numb to all emotions and information.

You hadn’t heard from Eddie since that night… and now you understood why. Your gut feeling was proven right once again- but you weren’t glad this time around. You weren’t relieved like you usually were; you were hurt.

And you were fucking angry.

Still with a week to spare Steve coughed up the money, making Eddie $100 richer- but that couldn’t amount to what he had lost. Eddie was a player, you knew that from the very start- but you stupidly thought that he was different when it came to you. That you could somehow change the way he thought about relationships.

It was clear to you now that you never stood a chance against Eddie Munson. You never did.

Your first initial instinct is to confront him and Steve face to face, but something was holding you back. Was it fear, rage, agony? You didn’t know, but what you did know was that they already thought you were a joke, why would they take you serious now? The answer is, they wouldn’t. They would chew you up and spit you right back out. Their punchlines would be thrown at you and each one would knock the air from your lungs— you were a laughing stock to them.

The thought alone makes red hot tears streak from your mascara painted eyes, the corners of your lips stealing a taste of the salty liquid as it fell. Nancy had long gone and you decide in that moment that you weren’t going to class today. You couldn’t stay on campus grounds, each passing second intensified the crumbling of the hole in your chest, now so big and gaping that you feel as though your heart may just fall from its cage and land on the ground in front of you. Unbeating. Dead.

You walked until your legs turned to jelly, causing you to collapse on a nearby sidewalk. You were in a unrecognisable neighbourhood. Some of the houses look pristine from the outside, freshly coated paint that was clearly done annually, fences held securely together with the best knuckles and bolts and on the other hand, some of the homes looked like they are over three decades old- gutters filled with rancid leaves, unwanted ivy climbing the walls, windows so dirty and murky you wouldn’t be able to see inside unless you were inside.

The setting sun litters the sky with flaming clouds coloured the brightest shades of orange, pink and purple. You smile up at the visual, momentarily forgetting about the inner turmoil that has caused you to drown your sorrows in straight vodka and cigarettes.

“Oh, Eddie.” You cry and toast to the sky, bringing the clear vodka bottle back up to your lips, throwing your head back and gulping down as much of the pungent liquid as you possibly could stomach. The strong taste momentarily numbing your mind. The only thought that was cartwheeling through your intoxicated brain was why?

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Why you? What was so challenging and intriguing about sleeping with you? Why not some other girl? Anyone else. Anyone but you.

More tears, less salt in your body- water replaced with alcohol. Your mind fizzes with warmth and your body is slowly shutting down on the edge of the road. Luckily, it’s quiet at this time of night. Everyone is at home with their families, tucking into some home cooked goods. You wish you were at home- you wish you had never left state to go to that stupid fucking college in the first place. You could have avoided this. Avoided him.

Your fingers twirl in the holes of your laddered tights, pulling on the fabric and watching the tear travel from your thigh down to your knee- which you only now register is bleeding. You must have fallen earlier, scuffing the skin pretty badly… but you can’t remember.

Blank spots taking over your memory? You’re nearly there. You’re nearly free of him- free of this day and of this shell which you call a body.

You just need to keep drinking. Finish your second bottle.

“What the fuck?” The voice is nearly enough to pull you back from the darkness, but your vision is blurry as you focus on the misshapen figure hovering above you, “Jesus Christ! You’re a fucking mess- what are you doing? Where have you been?” Eddie has no right to be angry at you, he caused this, but you’re putting your well-being at risk and he is disappointed in you. He thought you were smarter than this- he would rather you attack him, scream at him and hurt him back. But not this…

You’re nearly paralytic.

He had been searching for you all day, surfing through crowds in the canteen, asking around classmates and even speaking to randomers in the street.

Then he found you here. Cold to the touch. Anyone could have found you in this state, if it hadn’t been him… he doesn’t even want to think about what could have happened to you.

“Can you stand?” He asks gentler now, worry lacing itself through his voice and choking his voice box slightly. You bury your face into your hands, finding comfort there you breathe out an inaudible ‘no.’ Your breath whiffs back into your face and your nose scrunches at the scent. Pure alcohol. It’s nearly flammable.

Eddie sighs before scooping your frail body up from the ground, your fingers loosen and you end up dropping your bottle. The glass shatters all over the concrete, “Shit!” Eddie snips but you don’t even flinch at the ringing sound of broken glass- you’re too far gone.

“Do you even recognise me?” Eddie holds your sleep stricken face in the palms of his hands, forcing your gaze onto his softened features. You hum happily at the feeling of his cold rings pressing against your warm face, you feel as though you’re sweltering but in reality.. you’re icy to Eddies touch. There’s a moment he contemplates taking you to the ER, “You’re freezing, love.”

“You d..did this!” You hiccup, your finger jabbing weakly at Eddies chest. Your fingertip may as well have been a knife because Eddie’s heart sinks to his stomach as he holds you upright, knowing he drove you to this is sickening to him. He almost vomits… but you beat him to it.

He holds your hair back from your shoulders, “Let it out, honey.” With Eddie’s free hand he rubs your spine, his words of encouragement echoing through your empty skull.

“I hate you.” The sobbing arrived suddenly, causing your entire body to tremble. You’re beginning to feel the temperatures of outside and Eddie knows that he has to get you home quickly- despite how hurtful your drunken words are.

“I know.. I know you do.” His deep voice is strangled with sadness as he guides you over to his van which is parked across the street from where you had nested on the sidewalk, “I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry.” You don’t respond, you just shake your head at him. Unable to bring up the words. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.

Eddie’s grip on your shoulders is strong as his fingers stab into skin. You keep stumbling over your own two feet, your face would be hitting the ground if it weren’t for Eddie’s strength.

Your palms slam against the metal of his van door, steadying yourself there before Eddie helps lug you inside. You want to kiss him as he reaches over your body and belts you into your seat but you don’t- not because you wouldn’t but because you couldn’t. You feel as though you’re now unable to move your body- your limbs weighted down as you puddle into the musty passenger seat that wreaks of stingy weed with a twang of old booze.

You wonder how many girls have been in here before you, how many others had him and Steve ruined? You close your eyes to stop more tears from escaping, you have cried a river tonight and you’d much rather be numb now.

Cascading light etches it’s way through the smudged glass of the van, illuminating the inside just enough for you to see Eddie’s eyebrows knitted together in what you can only assume is either frustration or concentration.

One of his hands is secured on the steering wheel whilst his other arm is draped over your idle body- his attempt to try and keep you sitting upright and not accidentally smashing your face into the dashboard. If you weren’t so angry at him you would mould into his touch, but nothing can fix what he has broken.

Nothing.

His voice vibrates through the stuffy air and you wish you could make out what he is saying but you can’t. Your tired eyes are heavily lidded and your ears have totally switched off as you slump further into your seat, your head tilting back slightly as you drift in and out of consciousness. Your body is aching for rest. You just need sleep- this will all be so much better in the morning…

-

You don’t understand how or why you wake up in Eddie’s Hellfire t-shirt but your investigative skills narrow it down to the taste of vomit in your mouth and the aspirin that has been left on Eddie’s bedside dresser alongside a tall glass of water.

‘Take this, I’ll be back soon. -Ed’s’ A note reads in sloppy handwriting, signed by Eddie. You would roll your eyes if your pounding headache wasn’t causing them to screw shut- why is it so fucking bright?

You blindly take the pills, the water cools the acidic tinge plaguing your throat and you gasp for air after chugging the entire glass, your cotton mouth leaving you still thirsty for more.

You’ve no idea what time it is or where your clothes are so you can get dressed and bolt before Eddie gets back. For some pitiful reason you’re not surprised that he went out and left you alone. It’s what he’s good at- making a mess and then running away.

Your exhausted body pushes itself up from the springy mattress. Every muscle in your body sore from laying in one solid position the entire night but thankfully the pain medication is starting to kick in for your headache.

Just as you manage to swing your legs off of the bed you hear a door slam shut, your body naturally jolting at the sound.

“It’s just me!” Eddie yells from a far off room and you feel panic begin to compress your chest, like a can being crushed until it’s flat. You’re too sober and hungover now to face him. You need to get out of here and as soon as humanly possible!

You contemplate taking on the window, but there’s no way you would be able to hold your own body weight right now. You would probably plummet to your death if you tried. So what do you do instead? You sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the bedroom door in horror and anticipation- awaiting your nearing fate. Which soon arrives in the form of a chocolate eyed man, his hair tied back messily into a ponytail and in his arms he holds a tray, “Good, you’re awake.”

You silently curse at the way your heart beats faster at the sound of his sweet voice.

Offering him nothing but a tight lipped smile your eyes fall curiously to the tray he is holding. Did he..?

“I made you something to eat,” he advances further into the room, stepping over loose t-shirts and clothes that have been discarded without a care onto the floor, “I know food is the last thing on your mind right now, but if you want to feel better you need to try and stomach something.” He places the tray next to your bare legs on the bed, his eyes flicking the the skin before back to your face.

He palms at the back of his neck nervously and you examine the dry toast on the plate, next to it is a blob of strawberry jelly and a chunk of butter, “I didn’t know if you’d like anything on it so I just kinda left it up to you.” He smiles at you and you nod in response, leaving the food untouched.

“You undressed me.” The thought makes you want to heave into his trash can. Unless he had done it with his eyes closed, which you doubt, that means he got to see your body again. Touch your skin again. He doesn’t deserve that.

“I.. uh.. you,” he coughs lightly to clear his throat, “You threw up everywhere. All over yourself… I didn’t have a choice.” A redness warms Eddie’s cheeks and you suck in an exaggerated breath, your lungs feel as though they are struggling to breathe.

“Right.” You nod, your eyes scan the room for any sign of your own clothes, which you’re unable to find. Eddie notices, “They are in the wash. Your clothes, I mean. If you’d like a pair of pants I can rummage around for you?” He walks over to his wardrobe and you can’t help but watch him. He is moving feverishly. He is anxious and he’s rambling.

“Your tights were pretty ripped up, you must have fell before I found you. I washed them anyways but I don’t know if they are salvageable.” You look to your knee, finding a massive bandaid stuck to the skin. You remember that part- you bleeding and falling. You don’t remember Eddie bandaging you up, though.

“Thanks.” Even in despair and rage, you remember your manners. This all only proves how much he is able to be a true gentleman- and how much he really must have gone out of his way to purposefully hurt you. It makes your eyes sting. If you hadn’t cried so much last night you probably would be able to muster some tears now- but you’re bone dry.

“Listen.. I.. I don’t know how to say this”, Eddie is cautious as he sits down next to you on the bed, ensuring to keep a good amount of separation between the two of you, “How I feel about you is real. Everything that came from our short time together is real, lovie… and.. and I’m a fucking idiot.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, his throat clearly parched, “I won’t stop apologising, I won’t stop hating myself for what we did- for what I did.” His fingers twitch with need as Eddie contemplates reaching for your hand, but he ultimately decides against it, “I’m sorry.”

Your thumbs twirl with one another, your nail coming to pick at the sensitive skin around the cuticle, “You’ve really hurt me, Eddie.” Just when you thought the tears wouldn’t come, they do, “I can’t believe you made a fucking bet over me. I.. I’m not just some toy you can play with and then throw away when you’re satisfied. I’m a human being! And I’m mad at you.. I’m so mad!” The words squeak out as you let yourself feel everything you’d bottled up over the last few days. The mountainous emotions that you’d let fester deep within exploded through the floodgates.

“You’re such a fucking dick, Munson! I hate you right now!” Your breathing hitches as you struggle to control your breath, “I hate you..” The words are meek and small but they have their desired effect as Eddie’s heart becomes like melted wax in his chest, and it hurt for him to even breathe.

You meet Eddie’s gaze, tears were swimming in his honey brown eyes, but his face was rigid with focus, “I need some time away from you. I can’t.. I don’t want to forgive you right away.” You sniffle hard, your hand coming to paw at your soaked eyes, “What if you’re lying to me again?”

Plump pink lips part on Eddie’s face and he stands up momentarily, only to drop to his knees in front of you, “Let me prove it to you then. Let me make it up to you, please.” He begs, his hands resting on your bare knees and his soft touch shouldn’t scorch you but it does, “I’ll do whatever it takes, sweetheart. Anything to earn your trust again.” He desperately searches your face and you feel your shoulders slump in defeat. It’s so fatiguing to be so upset, “Please.” He repeats, his voice is a light choke.

You nod with a sigh, your hand clasping over his, “Okay.” You breathe, your mind clearing as your tears dry, “But I need time.” You repeat, the venom in your voice dissolving with every second you look at him.

Eddie nods in approval, a teary smile finding his face which he tries to bite back, “Time. I can work with time.”

You smile half heartedly as Eddie presses his forehead to yours, nuzzling his nose gently to your own, “Anything for you, Princess. Anything for you.”

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000

[yurinaa-world]

May i request love and deepspace boys with clingy!reader? Shes shy too!! In public, she'll hold onto his hand or finger and stays quiet but at home she becomes a yapper machine and also likes to plop onto his lap as she talks. Sometimes likes mindlessly squeezing and playing with his meaty bicep too :3

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶 𝓁𝑜𝓉"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, & Sylus x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who's clingy at home and mindlessly touches him

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: I got sickkk 😫 this isn't my usual quality...I'm sorry (it had to be when it's my first post with the 4 lnds guys...Give me another chance!)

💫𝑅𝒶𝒻𝒶𝓎𝑒𝓁 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒜𝒷𝓎𝓈𝓈𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝓇"

He eats it up, watching you act shy in public, grabbing the piece of his shirt or finger whenever you're in public. The second you feel like you're in a comfortable space he watches you unwind, holding onto him so tightly that he’ll just tease you. 

Your pretty self not wanting to let go of him, not even for a glass of water, straddling his lap, and arms wrapped around his neck, hiding in his neck. You're just begging him to tease you so badly. Yet his jaw just drops whenever you unconsciously touch him more. 

While you’re talking about your day, your hands unconsciously go to his chest. aren’t you so handsy? He stops in the middle of your sentence, teasing you so much even bringing up the other times you act shameless with him. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After such a long day, you can’t help but unload everything you had been feeling the entire day, just going on and on while he puts on his irrelevant commentary—letting gasps and hums, you play with the buttons on his shirt before taking your hands away from his buttons, gently caress his chest while you talk about the climax of your entire day.

“You should have seen her, she was completely soaked and the owner didn’t even say anything even though it was his fault that it happened in the first place!” you chirped—your eyes shining so bright there might be little stars in them—leaning into his face to emphasize your point, he just gasps as if he were there experiencing it. “Oh wow…” he smiles back at you—it looked more like a sly lazy grin plastered on his lips.

“Yeah! And then…”

There you go again switching through topics so fast that he might just start taking notes to understand what you’re talking about. But feel his grin get wider, while your hands shamelessly touch his chest like a creep on the streets.

“If you’re going to shamelessly touch me, at least own up instead of pretending to tell a story.” He grins, snapping you out of your story with an accusation of your character. Your eyes go wide feeling embarrassment pool into your stomach, resulting in your cheeks becoming rosy red as your hands spring back.

“I didn’t mean to touch you like.” you stutter as if he were a cop, while he just enjoys watching you freak out. “You’re such a terrible liar, you’re always touching me, taking advantage of me just because I let you do it once” he sighs dramatically, pinching, and pulling your cheek as if he were an adult lecturing a child—in reality he would be the child…“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Don’t bother, I already know the truth.”

💫𝒵𝒶𝓎𝓃𝑒 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓇"

He lets you unwind, it’s good for a person to relax after a long day, and you it’s no different—maybe a bit more affection from him while he lets you grasp onto his arms.

Arms wrapped around his one arm while you talk about your day, with a large smile on your face, your body basically sinking into the side of his. He finds it amusing the way you act but what does he expect? You’ve always been like that; it's not like he hates it, he loves it.

He even lets you play with his tie, slowly untying it and fiddling with it as if we’re some kind of toy.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I didn’t tell you about the craziest thing that happened today.” You realized, switching through topics so fast that he has to put his entire mind onto what you tell him, which he doesn’t mind, he’ll always listen to whatever you have to say. 

Your body against his, sinking into his side with your fingers fiddling with the tie as if it were a toy.

His eyes are loving to them while he listens to your voice with such attentiveness as if he were still taking a midterm exam back while he was a medical student. Just going on and on, telling every part of the story, before stopping to think of another story in the past. “Remember when we were kids!…” there you go again.

He’ll always find it adorable, a small plastered upon his gentle face from your hold speaks for itself.

 “Do you remember that?” 

“Pretty well, I remember another embarrassing thing you used to do, always holding and touching…seems that nothing changed,” he smiles at you, his hand going to withdraw your hand that was fiddled with a tie, his thumb gently rubbing your knuckles.

“Your touch still feels more like a medical exam,” he gently teased you, seeing your mouth agape made him love you more.

“Not that I dislike the feeling, I can’t go a day without it.” He reassures, bringing your hand to his heart, making you feel where his heart is.

“You can Continue speaking, I won’t stop you.”

💫𝒳𝒶𝓋𝒾𝑒𝓇 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒪𝒻 𝐿𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉"

He just loves to listen to your voice, whether it be a childish story about what happened that day or a drama your friend/coworker told you.

Now it’s no different even if he’s dozing off, his head flinching awake while you straddle his lap. It's fine! He’s not tired! You should keep on talking!

Through his half-lidded eyes looking back at you. Your touches might be the thing that brings him towards the border of going to sleep and staying awake, how dangerous you are.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“And then she left her boyfriend for her boss,” you gushed, leaning into his face to exaggerate the story more while he looked back at you with his tired gaze, “can you believe it, Xavier? And you know what her boyfriend did!” you exclaimed, he can’t help but let out a yawn.

“What did he do?” he asked sluggishly, his arms snaking their way up your waist, he might just be going in and out of sleep, every time he slowly closed his eyes and opens to jump in between different stories or different parts of one long story, yet he couldn’t fall asleep, feeling your hands move around his body.

“Xavier, are you awake?” 

You gently poke his cheek, while he just softly groans before he pushes you into his neck, taking the chance to hide himself in the crook of your neck. 

“You can keep talking…”

💫𝒮𝓎𝓁𝓊𝓈 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝒹 𝒪𝒻 𝒪𝓃𝓎𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓊𝓈"

He’s very “attentive” to your little story about what happened in Linkon that day, with his eyes softly staring at you with that signature smirk. 

You have quite the hands, don’t you? He would think you were robbing him blind with your touches. Just feeling your arms on his bicep, his bicep right against your chest, even if he pulls slightly away, you just pull him back.

He can’t help himself but stare at you like, to the point you notice and stop your story under his gaze.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“So that’s what happened…” he hums, listening to your little stories, grasping tightly on his arm while you laugh at your own story, and the way your lips grin ear to ear. 

“Pity I wasn’t there to see that.” He murmured—the little voice in the back of your head tells that it’s probably not the story he's focused on, cocking his head to the side, watching you go off onto another rant. only for you to cut your story short when you locked eyes with him for too long.

“He…”

“Something wrong?” He tilts his eyebrow with a subtle smirk on his lips, watching your lips pressed together in nervousness. “Well…” you mutter, while he just laughs at your expression. 

“Go on, keep on talking, I'd rather not miss what you were telling me, keep grabbing my arm like that as well.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[chososdiscordkitten]

Synopsis: calling the jjk men good boy's for the first time ^-^

Includes: 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐇𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢, 𝐍𝐚𝐨𝐲𝐚, 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐨 >_< Content: GN!Reader, no explicit smut- mostly just soft stuffff, just one dick jump I think..? jjk men being simpppps

MDNI

Choso Kamo

The discovery that Choso liked praise was no surprise. If he had a tail, it would wag whenever you praised him; we know this. 

But finding out he liked this kind of praise- that’s what shocked you. 

It came out of your mouth so quickly. As though you had been calling Choso that more than you called him by his name. 

He was making dinner- pattering around the kitchen with your eyes following his every move. You found it endearing how he insisted he would cook, “All you need to do is sit pretty and wait.” he would demand. 

No objections coming from you, knowing if Choso didn’t cook- you would be eating takeout instead. 

And when he offered you a spoonful to see how it was tasting, you closed your eyes with a pleased hum. 

“Now there’s my good boy.” 

You swore it was instinct- like you couldn’t filter the words that left your lips. 

And as though time stood still- you opened your eyes with pinched brows, and your lips pulled to the side. 

The little glimmer that shined in his eyes was one you only see in wonderfilled children when they see a candy store. 

His cheeks blushed with a little smile forming at the corner of his lips, had his heart beat any faster in his chest you would have heard it. 

“I’m a..?” he whispered, looking at you and wanting to hear you repeat it. 

You got the hint he liked it from the moment you opened your eyes. Blinking innocently as his hand held the spoon tightly. “A good boy.” you smiled, trying to keep the embarrassed blush heating your cheeks at bay. 

“My good boy.” you reiterated, watching his cheeks become deeper pink.

Choso nodded- as though this was some standard compliment that didn’t make the appendage between his legs jump at the name. 

‘A good boy.’ he mouthed with a giddy smile as he continued making dinner. 

For sure this only drove him to keep showing his affection with acts of service- only to hear your lips call him by that little name. 

And you were happy to call him that if it meant he would keep looking at you with the same love drunk eyes. 

After that, he would do a favor to you- not expecting anything in return except the new found pet name he wanted to hear you say. 

So when he would bring you something you had asked for—the TV remote, a charger, or a snack on his way home—his heart would pound just waiting for the little name. 

His head would rest on your chest with your hands rubbing small circles on his back and the other playing with his hair. Intent eyes watching the film you had put on- as though you were able to feel the stiffness of his shoulders. Waiting for the name. 

You placed a kiss on his forehead, “My good boy.” you hummed against his skin- feeling him ease into your grasp with a soft exhale. 

Hiromi Higuruma

You were sitting in the apartment office, scanning documents with hazy eyes till your mouth suddenly felt very- very dry.

But then you remembered you had a perfectly able boyfriend sitting on the living room couches waiting for you to finish working. 

You picked up your phone- swiping through the useless apps and clicking on Hiromi’s contact- hearing his ringtone through the closed door before hearing the dial click. 

Taking on a slightly stern tone, “I’m only a few feet away from you-” he started, only for you to sigh dramatically. 

“I don’t think i've ever been so thirsty in my wholllleee life.” you sighed, pressing your forehead onto the desk and hearing a little chuckle rumble through the speaker. 

You could hear the smile in his words, “That so?” almost sarcastically. 

Humming a lazy ‘Mhm’ “How I wish I had a tall, strong, handsome boyfriend to bring me a glass of water wiiiittthhhh three- no. Four ice cubes.” You exhaled dramatically. 

Hearing another little chuckle, “If only.” he muttered, playing coy to your specific demand. 

You gave a frustrated exhale- “Hiromi, be a good boy and bring me a glass of water.” this time more demanding, no longer having the patience for his game of playing coy.

You furrowed your eyebrows- unable to comprehend just how tired you had to be to say that to him. The silence heard from the phone made your stomach fall. 

Hanging up the phone with a small curse. Wondering if you had crossed a line that hadn’t been drawn by either of you. 

You sat up and started working again- far too embarrassed to go out for your own glass of water and settling on the fact Higuruma wouldn’t bring you one. 

That was till you heard looming footsteps behind the door of the office, hearing the door knob jiggle and widening your eyes at the hundreds of scenarios that raced in your mind. 

There Hiromi stepped- casual as ever with a glass of water in his hand. Unbothered, and cool as a cucumber as he placed the glass on the desk with a little kiss on your forehead. 

This made you think the call was cut out at the perfect moment. 

You muttered a small ‘Thank you.’ still shy from the tired, unfiltered words that left your lips. Hiromi started walking out, his back facing you as he halted his steps at the door frame. 

“Honey?” he asked, not even bothering to turn around. “Did you call me a good boy?” Your heart plummeted to your stomach from the question as your cheeks started warming. 

You parted your lips to speak, watching his neck turn and peer back at you. “Depends..?” you squint your eyes, hearing a little laugh leave his lips. 

Irking his head, almost to urge you to finish. “On whether you liked it or not...?” you whispered, looking at his expression soften. 

His nose crinkled in the slightest- “I think I did.” he whispered back with a little crinkle formed on his nose. A nod from your warmed face in return, mindlessly accepting his confirmation and mouthing a soundless ‘ok.’ 

Turning around and taking a step out of the office and closing the door behind him. Knowing he would have to hear it a few more times to be sure he liked it or not. 

Naoya Zenin

Rare were the times when the want to call Naoya a good boy arose. 

He could be such a cunt sometimes- so the urge never really rumbled in your mind. 

But when he would be sweet- when his hands held a gentle touch when cleaning a scrape you got on your knee. Or when he would gently clasp your necklace on for you- knowing you wouldn’t be able to see. 

He would do those sweet things with a furrowed brow and a pouty lip- sure. But his hands showed his true feelings. How gentle they could be at times- that’s when the pet name would threaten to leave your lips. 

But when you would hold his head in your hands, looking at him like an idiot in love- “My good boy.” you murmered, watching a light grimace form on his face at the name.

“Good boy?” he asked, almost disgusted. 

You nodded your head- so sure that Naoya was as you said. “You’ve never called me that.” 

He was so used to the strange pet names you would call him just to get a rise out of him- and he was sure this one was no different. 

You shrugged, “You’re hardly ever a good boy. But when you are- I should tell you, shouldn’t I?” You murmured, being able to feel the warmth on his cheeks fill your palms- even if his expression said otherwise. 

“M’not a dog.” he muttered. 

“If you were- I would have trained you to be a good boy all the time by now.” 

That’s when Naoya pulled his face from your hands and looked away from you. Not wanting to continue the conversation, knowing his cheeks must be flushed by now. 

And the last thing he wanted was you on a power trip from making him blush. Especially from being called a good boy.

But when you started calling him that—Pavloving himself into thinking the little endorphins that would simmer in his brain would only happen if you called him that. And you only called him that when he was kind.

Naoya warmed to the name slowly- barely even grimacing at the callousness you’d say it with whenever he would be sweet. 

Unknowingly, he was being trained to be nice and polite with one ‘good boy’ at a time. 

Satoru Gojo

The times you would praise Gojo were always met with an, “I know.” smug and cocky in his actions to brush off your praise as just compliments. 

But the first time you ever spoke those words to him- a praise he had never heard before now, and eager to hear it again. 

Satoru had made a stupid comment about how you didn’t show your affections enough- “I’m deprived of kisses.” he murmured, complaining to you as though you didn’t spoil him rotten with your affections. 

And in retaliation, you denied him any kisses or hugs. Show him what deprivation really was. 

You were washing dishes, with a whiney Satoru behind you, his hands wrapped around your waist with his chin on your shoulder. “This has to be considered abuse!” another complaint as you denied his advances. 

“You said I was cold and negligent, so I’m showing you how cold and negligent I can be.” You smiled to yourself, turning off the faucet and drying your hands on a nearby towel. 

Hearing a stifled whine of desperation huff from his nose at your denial. “Jus’ gimme one kiss-” aiming his lips at your cheek only for you to pull away. 

Turning over to look at him- faces inches apart with his hands daring to tighten their grip on your waist. Tilting your head to the side with a snide smile. “Only good boys who don’t complain get kisses.” 

From how close he was- you could see the glimmer in his eyes become blinding at the pet name. 

His features going soft with parted lips- “I’m good-” he choked out, looking at you with goal-oriented eyes. “I’m soooo good-” he muttered, bordering on panicked from the idea that you didn’t think he was. 

Gojo’s hands gripped harshly at your hips. “Have you been a good boy?” you asked, almost sarcastically—as though you were speaking to a puppy. 

He nodded- eager to hear the new compliment leave your lips. Only you nodded ‘no.’

“I don’t think you have ‘toru.” you hummed, his lips coming closer to yours with a sad pout. As though the idea of him being good in your mind was the most important thing he needed to hear. 

He only placed his forehead onto the crook of your neck with a sad puff, your hand going up to his undercut, softly stroking the back of his neck in some feigned consoling. “Tell me i’ve been good.” he muttered quietly.

So spoiled from you caving with a little pout here or there. Practically putty in your hands as your other hand caressed the side of his face. 

Rolling your eyes with a playful sigh, “You’ve been good.” with a half-assed tone, only for Satoru to look at you with sad eyes. Expecting more than what you offered. 

Pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead and pulling away, “You’re a good boy.” you murmured, watching the light return to his eyes in sync with the little smile on his lips. 

Blinking rapidly as though he was trying to blind you, “My good boy.” and that’s when he got his fill for affection for the next few minutes. 

Then came the task of having to call him that whenever he wanted to hear it- looking at him with a displeased look, knowing you’ve created a monster that thrives on that special kind of praise only you could offer. 

Kento Nanami

We can all agree- Nanami is the one who deserves to be told he’s a good boy the most, right?

There were times when the urge blossomed in your mind- at the tip of your tongue and so close to calling him that pet name. But you never did. 

That was, until you got the guts to test the waters. 

Laying on your back, a few minutes before bed and unwinding while on your phone, and beside you; a hazy Kento that was waiting for you to turn off your side table lamp. Always waiting for you to get ready for bed before allowing himself to fall asleep. 

You let out a soft sigh before turning off your phone. Rolling onto your side with Nanami watching you from the side of his vision. Only this time you didn't reach for the little nob to turn your lamp off. 

You only stayed on your side with a pensive hum leaving your lips. “Scratch my back Ken,” you muttered, clearly tired with your eyes closed. 

Though you couldn’t see it- or hear it, you knew he had a little smile on his face as he shifted onto your side of the bed. A little shiver ran up your spine when his fingertips grazed the small of your back as he reached beneath your shirt. 

A satisfied sigh left your lips when his barely present nails started circling small scratches between your shoulder blades, your cheeks tingling from the words you dared say. “Such a good boy.” with a little smile on your lips, Nanami couldn’t see. 

Nanami didn’t fully process your mumbled words, only offering a hum in response as he kept up the gentle scratches. 

But when his brain started thinking about what you said- thinking if he misheard you. Slowing his hand with furrowed eyebrows, “Did you call me a-” he hesitated in what he thought he heard. 

“A ‘good boy’..?” bordering on a whisper from the nerves of being incorrect. 

Only the little ‘Mhm!’ that left your lips swatted those nerves away. “You’re such a good boy- always so nice to me.” you hummed, closing your eyes against the pillow with his hand still acting on your demand.

A pensive hum left his lips before slowly dragging his hand out of your shirt. You opened your eyes in dread, thinking he didn’t like it- only to hear him plop on his side of the bed with a throaty exhale. 

“Then be good and scratch my back.” he murmured, clearly too tired to process what he had just demanded- and the tone he used opened a whole other can of worms. But seeing as it was only fair- you did the same. 

Toji Zenin

He had been bugging you to finish your work for a while. Poking and prodding at you to stop working and pay attention to the film he put on to distract you. 

Toji had this thing where he pretended not to care- but you could see that it bothered him with every little side eye he made at you when you would stop typing for even a second. Hoping you were looking up at the TV instead of the screen on your lap. 

But every side eye he would make, Toji would find you still working. 

Going as far as nudging you with his elbow to mutter some bullshit lie he thought up on the spot. 

“M’hungry.” he muttered when you would look over at him. 

“Then eat.”

Only a few minutes of an action movie fight before another useless lure for conversation left his lips. 

“S’cold in here.” trying to bait any conversation he could think of. 

You scoffed, knowing exactly what game he was trying to play. “Get a blanket,” he quickly said, not even wanting to lose your train of thought. 

Then another, and another, and another. Till he finally spilled what he really wanted- “You don’t wanna go lay down or somethin-” with a pouty lip and furrowed eyebrows. You sighed and looked over at him.

“Or something?” sarcasm filled your tone as you looked back at the screen. 

Toji rolled his eyes with an exhale- another sassy trait he had learned from you. 

He parted his lips with an inhale. 

“Good boys wait politely, Toji.” you spat- pinched eyebrows and an avoidant gaze as he looked over to you. 

“When have I ever been polite.” he murmured- barely audible and in an annoyed tone. 

“When have you ever been a good boy?” you retorted, surprised he didn’t catch it the first time. 

He only let out a slight hum at your declaration. 

Toji didn’t really bring it up after that- and neither did you. As though the words hadn't processed in his brain till a week later. 

Looking at you across a metal table at an outdoor cafe- “Did you call me a good boy the other day?” almost with a little grimace on his expression. 

You pursed your lips- making Toji think you were going to deny it. 

“No. I said you’re never a good boy.” 

He only raised a brow at your proclamation- sucking his teeth with an inhale, “That’s not true- and you know it.” dismissing your words before taking a bite of the half sandwich you bought to share. 

Takuma Ino

One of the sweetest boys I can imagine. 

Always would he try to be as gentlemanly as he could- reminding himself that when it came to you, he would bend over backward had you asked. 

But there would be times when it would slip his mind entirely. 

Going shopping with him turned from just a quick pit stop- to an hour, then two hours. 

While ordering boba in line, your hands held shopping bags on each side. Ordering your own drink before Ino ordered his. 

He always found it offensive when you would even think of reaching for your wallet- so he would scoff infront of the cashier before tapping the chip of his card onto the little black screen. 

“How am I supposed to pay you back?” you muttered through clenched teeth, taking a few steps to the little wait area as they prepared the bubble drinks. 

He muttered something like ‘You don’t have to pay me back, what else am I here for.’ brushing you off with a little scoff. 

Ino didn't even notice the bags in your hands- his brain fried from how long you had been in the overcrowded mall. He only noticed when you moved the bags to one hand and shifted your stance slightly.

He looked over at you with a soft exhale- reaching for the bags, “Baby, don't tell me you don't have a ssssuuuuper strong boyfriend to hold these for you.” taking them from your hands and watching your expression soften. 

“What kinda boyfriend would let you walk around holding your own bags-” he scoffed, jokingly making fun of himself as you smiled warmly at him. 

Be it the general brain splitting headache you felt at that moment- or the heartmelting warmth you felt looking at him, “You're such a good boy.” you muttered- bordering on an illegable whisper, but Ino heard it. 

His eyes widened in the slightest and parted his lips at the name. “Me?” Ino whispered back, you only nodded ‘yes’ with tired eyes. Leaning in a little to you ear- too cautious for anyone to hear. “A good boy?” he whispered again. Watching the little smile on your lips widen with eager eyes. 

“The goodest boy.” you whispered with a smug tone- knowing he liked being praised in general. You knew he would like the little name. 

-

(a.n) does this count as smut? kinda a grey area me thinks. Didn't know how to tag it. (p.s) im so hungry rn and need to go spend wayyyy too much money on tile :(

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING JEONGHAN INCLUDES…. — sfw

• your boyfriend or your bully? (just kidding he absolutely adores you.)

• he would definitely 100% talk to you in a baby voice.

• he considers staying home and building the most difficult and intricate lego sets a date.

• oh he definitely takes such good care of you.

• another one in which you never have to drive because he always offers to.

• he's honestly the type of person to say no to having an animal. he insists on a pet rock being more than enough (he might let you get a bunny though if you beg hard enough.)

• jeonghan’s the angel on your shoulder, but he’s also the devil on the other.

• would buy you lego flower bouquets instead of real ones. he claims they would last you forever (and they do.)

• he always has your back, even when you're in the wrong. he would probably end up gaslighting the other person easily to get you off the hook (it works every time.)

• he's probably the type of person to trip you in public. 100% laughs at you before helping you up.

• he may cheat in games a lot, but whenever he's up against you, he ALWAYS plays fair.

• he's really into physical affection, but keeps it low-key. normally has an arm around your shoulder or your hand intertwined with his — he tends to kiss your knuckles time to time.

• honestly, the BEST when it come to comforting you. he knows exactly what to say and exactly what to do.

• he would let you play with his hair anytime you want. doesn't care what you do, even if you put it in pig tails. as long as he's getting head scratches, it's whatever.

• he always offers you a bite of his food and insists you eat it even if you don't want it.

• you could tell him absolutely anything and everything and he would never judge you for it.

• late night conversations with him could go on for hours and they're the best.

• jeonghan’s not the type of person to get jealous easily. he's fully confident in not only his looks, but his relationship as well.

• ONE OF THE BEST KISSERS and i stand by that idc.

• his presence is so calming and comforting that it makes it easy to fall asleep whenever you're around him so consider your insomnia cured.

• he's constantly teasing you, but he can read you very well and knows when to back off.

• despite him being a light sleeper, he falls asleep within the blink of an eye whenever he's with you. he calls you his melatonin.

• he will put you on the spot in group settings or just in general because he enjoys when you're flustered.

• he whispers the answer into your ears or which move to make next whenever you're playing a game. you would always end up winning because of this.

• whenever you two argue, he's actually really good at understanding your feelings and communicating. he insists on making up and not going to bed angry at each other.

• y’all would definitely double/triple date with seungcheol, joshua, and their s/o's.

• he's definitely the type to scare the shit out of you after y’all watch a scary movie.

• even though he gets cold easily, if you ever forget your jacket, he will give you his without even thinking about it. don’t even try to argue with him.

• he will always match your excitement with his own, even if he’s grumpy or having a bad day. jeonghan refuses to dull your sparkle.

• he always makes sure there’s a hair tie on his wrist for you (sometimes two so he can have one as well.)

• he is truly one of the best people to talk shit with. if you hate someone, then he hates them too. if you wanna punch someone, well then he sure as hell isn’t holding you back — he’s helping you and drop kicking them.

• he would probably use your shampoo ngl.

• he’s ridiculously good at making eye contact and maintaining it so whenever you’re talking to him, you tend to get butterflies (it’s okay though because this just proves he’s being attentive.)

• he probably has some weird, funny photo of you as his lockscreen, but everytime he looks at his phone he smiles in admiration.

• LAZY DATES. he prefers being in the comfort of your own home and as long as you’re with him, you’re content.

• he would laugh at any joke you make no matter how lame.

• he would indulge in cute little activities you like such as coloring or even playing just dance.

• y’all have weird hobbies together. i’m talking hobbies like going to couples therapy and making the therapist uncomfortable as y’all pretend to be angry over stupid shit when in reality your relationship is perfect. (the look on the therapist’s face when you tell her you’re jealous because of his pet rock is priceless.)

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

Thinking about playing dress up, just for Katsuki.

And it leads to something more.

Having him manspread on the couch in your shared bedroom, arms draped over the sides.

A lazy boyish grin on his face as crimson eyes lazily drag over you, taking in every dip, every curve, every scar. (cause we all have them)

Twirling in the new cute dresses he got for you, some elegant and flowy, some bold, short and daring.

"That one looks good on you," his low voice sends a shiver down your spine.

You turn to look at him, biting your lip, your fingers nervously smoothing the fabric. It’s bold, shorter than what you usually wear, but the way his eyes darken as they roam your legs makes you feel more confident.

“This is... new." you muse.

He scoffs, leaning back into the couch, stretching even further. His muscles ripple under his shirt, and his smirk widens as he notices you staring. "Don’t act like you don’t love it," he says, voice rough but teasing, challenging you.

And when you're not sure if one looks good on you?

Katsuki’s grin fades into something more serious, more heated. He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes locked on yours. "Wouldn’t have bought it if I didn’t think ya could pull it off." His gaze dips down your body again. "Yer lookin’ better than I imagined."

A rush of heat floods your cheeks at the compliment, but you refuse to let him see how much his words affect you. Instead, you grab one of the more elegant, flowy dresses and hold it up in front of you. "What about this one? You’ve got quite the range of tastes, huh?"

Katsuki stands up, slowly, and in just a few strides, he’s right in front of you.

He takes the dress from your hands and tosses it carelessly onto the bed. His hands slide around your waist, pulling you close, his breath warm against your neck as he murmurs, "Doesn’t matter what ya wear, dollface. 'M always gonna like what I see."

A blush coats your face at his words. Your fingers grip tightly onto his shirt.

“I picked these for you,” he continues, voice rough and low, “’cause I wanted to see you in ‘em. Make no mistake, princess, ya look best with ‘em on the floor.”

He's teasing, you know it. You sigh shakily, knees feeling like jello. Stepping out of his grasp and spinning around in the dress one last time, you know fully well the effect you’re having on him.

"Well then," a manicured nail traces lightly down his arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps within its wake. "you better help me out of it."

And that’s all the invitation he needs.

I'm sorry guys- I just miss my crush😔

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Meaningful Kiss

SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses?

CHARACTERS: OB students (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia & Malleus)

TAGS: Bullet Points; Fluff; GN Reader; Established Relationship, Kissing, Flirting, Slightly Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 300 words per character.

COMMENTS: This has been a WIP for so long that I don't even remember how I got the idea to write it. And in my case, being a WIP for a long time means that I wrote one part and then went on to write something else and ended up forgetting about this one for a long time. 😅 But now I've finished it.

I hope you enjoy 💋

Meaningful Kiss 2 (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek)

Meaningful Kiss 3 (Ruggie, Jade, Kalim, Silver, Lilia)

Meaningful Kiss 4 (Cater, Trey, Floyd, Rook)

CONTEXT: You two are in an established relationship already.

Riddle is not really the PDA type. The most he would do with you in public could be walk arm in arm like you were royalty. In terms of kisses, a kiss on the back of your hand or, at the most, on your cheek.

When the two of you are alone on a normal day, he will probably be working on his student and Housewarden duties. But whenever you tell him he should take a break, he'll get up, sit next to you and hug you, like you're a charger.

If you're relaxing together, he’ll be reading a book with one arm around you. Either around your shoulders or around your waist, which you told him you like the most. He’ll also laying his head on your shoulder.

The most meaningful kisses are, of course, the kisses on your lips. He's not the type to kiss you on the lips just like a "good morning" thing. These kisses are always sweet and lovely. His hands would be on your cheeks to caress them.

He needs you, but his kisses aren't needy. They are the caring type. You are his precious rose. In contrast to his strict self, the way he shows you that he loves you is through soft affection and care.

A relationship with Leona Kingscholar comes with your rights and duties. Some of your rights: He will buy you things; you’re allowed to pet his ears; he will be your protector and you can sleep with him in his comfy bed and have breakfast in bed (he ordered someone to bring it to you two)

Some of your duties: let him use you as a pillow (be it your thighs in the greenhouse or your chest in bed.); don't be too annoying to him; dealing with his “smugness” on a daily basis and being his and his alone, the same way he's yours.

He's kinda into PDA, but more in the sense of telling anyone who might look at you with interest that you're his. Or anyone who looks down on you that if they do the slightest thing against you they will have to suffer at his claws. If the other person is a friend of yours, he'll let it go.

He has at least two types of kisses. The first is the “make out” kisses. When you're alone and he wants you (if you want him at the time too of course), he would give you deep kisses, kiss your neck and run his hands over you. Either he would make you sit on his lap our make you lie down with him.

His real meaningful kisses are the second ones. The "lazy" kisses. The first ones are linked to his pride. These second ones are much more affectionate. Usually happen when he's still sleepy, like when he just woke up from a good nap. He may lazily put his arms around you and kiss your cheek, neck, or shoulder gently. This is perhaps the most vulnerable state he will let you see. And so it will only happen in private.

Azul is also not very adept at PDA, but he is still capable of putting an arm around you and kissing your cheek to show how well he takes care of you.

He's already quite charming and pleasant with his potential clients, so with you it's not much different in public. The only difference is that with you it's genuine.

Do I need to say that dating him is like dating a Mafia Boss? AKA: Nobody disrespects my loved ones, unless they want a certain head in their beds when they wake up. (reference to The Godfather)

Being alone with him on a normal day would probably be being with him in his VIP room at Mostro Lounge. You're sitting on one of the couches while he's dealing with his paperwork. He’s probably the type that likes to be teased a little. So, when you see that he is no longer that attentive to the papers, go up to him, play with his hair, kiss his cheek, that will put him in the mood for you.

He’s the opposite of Leona. The kisses he usually gives you are sweet and charming like him. Because that's the side of him he want to show you the most. He'll kiss your cheek and lips affectionately. Let you sit on his lap. The side he most wants to show you is the confident and caring side. The one who shows you that you can trust him and that he will take care of you.

His most meaningful kiss is the opposite. The one related to his needy side. He shows you his most vulnerable side when he is the one who needs you. And that's what everything he does shows you. His kisses, his hugs, his begging look, all screaming “I need you! Please don’t leave me.”

Jamil is completely against PDA! He doesn't like to stand out or draw attention and PDA always do that to the people involved. He won't hold your hand or kiss you. To the point where no one knows if you're even dating or not.

The only way he would show his affection for you in public is if that is a way to protect you. If someone looks down on you and he feels that that persons can be a threat to you, he will show that he is an even greater threat to them. In these moments, his protective side is stronger. He is Kalim's protector by obligation, but yours by free will.

It's when you're alone that he'll make up for his lack of affection of the day. On a normal day, you would be alone in the kitchen. He would probably be cooking for Kalim, but making something for you two as well. He’ll let you taste things as he cooks. He feels more relaxed when he's with you and even more so when you hug him.

When you're relaxing together, he would spoil you. Give you soft and sweet kisses. Pet your head and play with your hair. Give you massages and feed you things like grapes or small snacks. Or even taking the first mouthful of food he made for you to your mouth and seeing your delighted face.

The most meaningful gestures of affection he shows you are related to his most lustful side (lust for power) when you are the one spoiling him. The one moment in his life where he is no longer the servant, but the master. This time, he kisses your lips, your neck and everything he's entitled to. He tends not to show his feelings but with you he will show how much he loves you and how much he wants you.

In reality, Vil neither likes nor dislikes PDA. He's kind of indifferent to it. The only reason he doesn't do it with you is because it would have bad consequences for both of you for his work as an actor and model. The most he can do is walk hand in hand with you.

Even though he doesn't show it much in public, everyone will know that you two are dating. He'll make sure of it, even if it's just information on the internet or him straight out saying it. On the one hand to protect you, because only an idiot would try to mess with Vil Schoenheit's partner. On the other hand to discourage anyone who has the slightest interest in you. “Honey, they’re with me. Do you really think you can even get to my heels? So, don't bother them.”

The only possible problem for you is that he's going to be more strict now that you're dating. From the outside it looks like he can be mean and demanding with you. But the truth is, he wants you to look your best so people know why he fell in love with you. He wants others to see on the outside how beautiful you are on the inside.

But of course, sometimes it's too much and you'll challenge him. Be stubborn and carefree. The best part? He's so into it! Your way of teasing each other.

He kisses you every now and then when you're alone. But when you put him on this mood, all his affection mix with boldness intensifies. Oh, of course, you wanted him to remind you what the reward is for listening to him. The answer is: appreciating you with the rest of his senses, sensual kisses on your lips, jaw, neck and shoulders; his hands running over your body, him delighting in your wearing the perfume he made for you. He'll show you how beautiful you are to him.

PDA is not even an option! There is no way! Na-a! Listen, Idia loves you, really, he promises BUT going with you to places where couples usually go is already a lot and holding hands is the absolute most he can do. IF that even happens.

He wouldn’t be the jealous type. If someone shows an interest in you, at least they have good taste. But if someone looks down on you or goes so far as to disrespect you, then he goes from 0 to 100. Do these worms know he can hack them? exposing things that can completely ruin their lives until the day they pass through the gates of the underworld? Ortho can help protect you in the meantime.

Since he is a 0 to 100 guy, his kisses are the same. His "0" kisses are lazy. Mainly light, on your shoulder and neck, because you would be sitting on his lap, chest to chest, while he plays on his PC and you on your phone on his back. He also gives you casual "hi" and "bye" kisses on the lips.

Then there is his "100" kisses. Those are the real meaningful kisses, the "I love you" kisses. They are passionate but kind. Because loving you is different for loving a game, it's like he found his balance. they are not needy, but appreciative, the real embodiment of "OMG, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" He also becomes bolder as he feels comfortable with you. He loves to tease you until he makes you shut him up with a kiss. The stronger your relationship is, the more daring and smug he will be.

Malleus is quite indifferent to PDA. However, he is not the type to initiate the exchange of affection, but he is the type to reciprocate it. He won't kiss or hug you out of nowhere. But if you kiss or hug him, he will definitely reciprocate.

And he's going to be extremely casual about it. I mean, it's two lovers interacting with each other. As young humans would say: What's the big deal? However, he still distinguishes between the affection he gives you in public and the affection he gives you in private.

In public, his hugs are polite, and his kisses are light but loving.

In private, what he wants most is simply to be with you. He loves it when you sit on his lap and he cuddles you, and he likes it even more when you cuddle him back. He maintains his composure quite well, but you know that just your kisses on his checks already melt him inside.

His regular kisses in privet are sweet, loving, showing you that you are the most precious thing in his life. And very recurrent. He may not be the type to initiate the exchange of affection in public, but he certainly is in private.

All his kisses are meaningful, but the most meaningful of all are the one he gives you on your lips while smiling. The kind of kiss he can't stop himself from giving you. You may not even notice when they happen, because you are simply being yourself.

He feels the need to kiss you passionately when you do something that reminds him of why he fell in love with you. The moments when you do something that may seem simple, but for him it is something extraordinary. And if you don't realize at first how incredible that small gesture can be for him, it only makes you more charming.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[uzurakis]

brainrotting so hard rn thinking of megumi who absolutely refuses to admit his feelings for his best friend but okay so hear me out shikigamis are often reflections of their owner, right?

his shikigami – his demon dogs, nue, escape rabbit etc etc are ALL attached to reader, constantly begging for their attention and being so protective towards reader whenever he brings them out. and reader can't help but feel loved and safe whenever they're around.

because the affection his shikigami has for you is a reflection of megumi's feelings for you <3

n. THIS IS SOOO GOOD and i just HAD to make a drabble out of it. i also feel megs will sometimes be jealous but.. hey.. isn’t that just an extension of HIMSELF? thank you nonnie cause i had fun brainrotting this wit chu <3

under the dappled shade of a tree, you and your bestfriend sat nestled amidst nature's embrace. the gentle rustle of leaves provided a soothing soundtrack to the lazy hour after school as the cool breeze swayed in between. you leaned against the sturdy trunk, the rough bark a comforting support against your back, whilst fushiguro reclined nearby, never not a book on hand, his presence a familiar comfort in the tranquil surroundings. he looked too focused, way too focused right now.

“fushiguro,” you called out whilst biting back a smile, holding up your index finger in a playful gesture. “one favor.”

“no.” came his immediate response, closing off any opportunities as he remain engrossed in his book.

it was a usual thing for you to do, pester him for fun with many favors. you knew that despite his protests, he would always give in to your whims. it was one of the things you adore about him actually, the lengths he’d go to make you feel better.

undeterred, you continued, pouting slightly. "but fushiguroo..."

“no.” he repeated firmly. “your one favor usually turns into a two favor, and a three—“

“i promise it’s only a favor this time!”

a wind brushed his black locks as he peered up from his book, letting out a slight forced sigh as he finally locked his eyes with yours. “just one favor.” he conceded, unable to resist your asks.

the smile of yours finally burst out, and the favor rolled off of your tongue. it was simple this time; you didn't have to use your pleading looks or other tricks to get him agreeing.

“can you summon some of your shikigamis? just wanna play with them.”

fushiguro's expression softened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his initial resistance. he closed his book gently and set it aside, his attention fully on you now.

"alright," he relented, his tone warmer now. "i can do that, only for a short while."

you nodded eagerly, grateful for his concession. fushiguro had a way of understanding your needs even when you were being particularly bothersome. so you wasted no time in joining in the play, laughing and running around with his divine dogs. fushiguro watched with a fondness in his eyes, silently grateful for moments like these.

well, he too had other ideas. he certainly seems to have a knack for stirring up trouble and was definitely intentional. while you were distracted by the dogs swarming about you, he summoned an army of his rabbits—a large number of them—and they all jumped at you at once.

“do you want me to get killed from your rabbits?!” the shout was muffled as his rabbits covered quite every inch of your body. “did you tell them to come at me?!”

no, your bestfriend never ask his shikigamis to come at you the moment he summoned them. fushiguro megumi's shikigamis, his loyal companions, had a mind of their own. he never trained the dogs to nozzle around you, the rabbits to bounce over you, or nue to sit on your shoulder. for that they didn't heed the conventional rules of summoning or obedience; instead, they acted on their instincts, driven by an unspoken directive to protect and be close at all times—fushiguro megumi’s instincts to protect you and be close at all times.

“dunno,” picking up where he left off and submerging back to his pages. “maybe.”

“you’re such a prick!” the words burst forth as you try to get the rabbits off of you.

he watched you from a distance, his heart swelling with affection as you kept playing around with his shikigamis. but he still tried to held back his own smile, a silent observer in the background, content to bask in the warmth of your presence.

yet, as if on cue, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, he could not hide it any longer.

@uzurakis — requests are open! <3

[chestersturniolo]

“Stay with me for five more minutes”

clingy!chris • based on many requests including this one

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

You stirred awake, rolling over to find Chris already awake, lying on his side and staring at you with a soft smile on his face.

“Good morning” you mumbled in a sleepy voice.

“Morning” he replied, scooting closer until his body was flush with yours, his arms wrapping around you. “I missed you”

You chuckled, cosying into his touch “Chris, we’ve been asleep for eight hours”

“Eight hours too long” he murmured, nuzzling his face into your neck. His voice had that lazy, contented tone he used when he was comfortable and didn’t want to move. You sighed softly, the warmth of his embrace making it hard to get up. But eventually, you pulled away, sitting up to stretch. Chris groaned dramatically, reaching out to pull you back into bed.

“Come back-” he whined, his fingers gently tugging at your shirt. “-stay with me for five more minutes”

“Chris, we have things to do today. I need to get up” you said, laughing as you pried his hands off you. He pouted like a child, sitting up and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I don’t care. We can cancel everything. Just stay here” he pleaded, arms winding around you again from behind. You rolled your eyes but secretly you loved the attention.

When he finally let you out of his grip, you made your way into the shower. Chris perched on the bathroom counter, his back against the mirror, arms casually folded as he watched you shower. His eyes never left you, and he wasn’t saying much, just offering the occasional smile when your eyes met, but his presence was comforting, and a little clingy in the most endearing way.

Once you were done and wrapped up in a towel, Chris hopped off the counter to get ready himself. Even after finishing up, he didn’t stray far. Instead, he sat back down on the bed, watching you do your makeup at the vanity with quiet fascination. Every time you glanced at him, his gaze was already on you, like he found every brushstroke mesmerizing.

“What?” you asked, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you applied mascara.

“Nothing-“ he shrugged, grinning. “-just…you”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the mirror, but you couldn’t stop the flutter in your stomach when he looks at you this way, which is honestly most of the time.

Once you were both ready, you mentioned you needed to run a few errands. Chris immediately insisted on coming along, despite your warning, “It’s just boring stuff, It won’t be fun”

“I don’t care-” he said, slipping his hand into yours. “I just wanna be with you ma”

~

Throughout the day, Chris was glued to your side, never more than an arm’s reach away. As you walked through the grocery aisles or waited in line somewhere, he was constantly in contact with you. An arm snaked round your waist. Holding your hand. Playing with your hair. A hand slipped in the back pocket of your jeans. Every so often, he leaned in for kisses, leaving you grinning even when you tried to stay focused on your to-do list.

“Chris, we’re literally in the produce section” you laughed as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck littering kisses- all whilst holding a bag of apples.

“And?” he replied, unfazed, pressing a kiss to your cheek. His affection was constant,, as if he couldn’t get enough of you, no matter where you were or what you were doing.

Chris’ love language was definitely physical touch, and he couldn’t care less about PDA. in fact he loved to show everybody what was his, whether it cringed them out or not. he simply didn’t care.

~

By the time you finally made it home, you were more than ready to relax. Chris had already pulled out some of his comfiest clothes for you- a big hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. He tossed them onto the bed with a grin. “Figured you’d wanna get cozy” he said, watching as you slipped into the oversized hoodie, which smelled like him.

Once you were both changed, you curled up on the couch, Chris wrapping his arms around you as you settled into his chest. He flicked on a movie, but half the time, you could feel his gaze shift from the screen to you.

“You’re staring again” you teased, glancing up at him.

“Can’t help it” he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead before tightening his hold on you.

You sighed contentedly, nestling deeper into his embrace. By now, his clinginess felt like second nature, a quiet but constant reminder of how much he loved being close to you.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

MASTERLIST HERE

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[hannieehaee]

Imagine workaholic gf!reader of equally workaholic bf!woozi where they both take a few days leave to enjoy each other and book a luxurious honeymoon suite hotel room thinking they will have a lot of sex with their days off but instead end up with cuddling and lazy make out sessions because their exhaustion just swooshes over them owo

18+ / mdi

content: workaholic!woozi x workaholic!reader, afab reader, heavy mentions of smut, making out, very suggestive, etc.

wc: 1262

a/n: i can really picture jihoon dating a fellow workaholic lol anyways thank u for requesting<3

masterlist

"fuck, finally," you sighed in relief, letting yourself fall backwards onto the cool bed in the luxury hotel room jihoon had reserved.

after endless weeks of equally endless work, you finally had a week off, which jihoon had strategically coordinated with his own time off.

the two of you were extremely hard workers �� to a fault. when jihoon bad first met you, he worried that maybe his addiction to constant work would eventually drive you away, yet somehow it had continued to keep you right by his side. you preferred that he was a workaholic, you had once told him. there had apparently been a few prior relationships in which your heavy workload had led to irreparable issues. jihoon being equally as busy as you allowed you to work without feeling guilt of leaving your partner behind – jihoon felt the exact same way.

despite the unspoken agreement the two of you had in regards to the dynamic of your relationship, it sometimes still got to you when you'd realize how little time you were able to spend with your boyfriend – once more, jihoon felt the exact same way.

your individual lives were already difficult to navigate, but making time for each other was even more complicated. your exhaustion was a whole different issue. working as much as the two of you did, it was understandable that you'd spend the lulls in your schedule resting as much as you could rather than with each other. it was a sad truth, but still remained a truth.

it wasn't as if you spent no time together, though. you'd always either see each other in the mornings (either through call or in person – depending on whether jihoon was in the country at the time or not) or at night, always making sure to love on one another as a reminder of the thriving affection in your relationship. you'd also dedicate one night per week to have a stay-at-home date night. everything was perfectly tailored to your relationship, and the two of you were more than happy with it.

these past few weeks had been the issue. as jihoon had a comeback and you had an important project at work, it was virtually impossible for you to see each other as of late. it got to you in all the worst ways, making you moody, irritable, tired, and even sexually frustrated. not only were you physically exhausted of the constant work, but you had been deprived of your daily dosage of jihoon. you had not slept together in weeks, nor had you even had a meal with each other. cuddling? completely out of the question with the insanely packed schedule you'd been having.

it all went like this for the both of you for a few weeks, up until everything managed to reach a standstill. you had a few days off, and jihoon had the ability to move some things around to match your time off. without so much as one word from you, jihoon had decided it was the perfect time to whisk you away on a private getaway at some luxury hotel of your choice.

jihoon wasnt really one to go out much, unbeknownst to you, but jihoon had been feeling extremely pent up from the last moment he got to have you all to himself. the short glimpses of you he managed to catch throughout the busy weeks were the only thing that had kept him going. the singular thought of the next time he'd he'd get to have you was the only thing occupying his mind. renting out a room for the week was the most obvious of choices to jihoon. he would finally get to explore the sheets with you.

upon arriving to the hotel, jihoon chuckled at how pleased you seemed with the place, immediately letting yourself loose on the bed and sighing in contentment. putting down the suitcases, jihoon joined you soon after, still fully clothed as he laid next to you, staring up at the ceiling.

"are you as tired as i am?", you asked him.

he hummed in affirmation, "yeah. what do you wanna do first?"

the unspoken agreement to utilize the week on sex had filled up the room before you had even arrived, so it was obvious what he was referring to.

"i'll take a quick bath first, okay, baby?", you said as you began to get up, stretching your muscles in the process.

"sure, baby. i'll head down to the gym for a bit to unwind then. i'll see you in about an hour, then?"

with a sweet peck, you bid your boyfriend goodbye, giddy to get yourself relaxed and perfumed so your boyfriend could help you destress under the sheets.

~

the bath had been a huge success in terms of getting you relaxed. after an hour lying in the warmest, bubbliest, comfiest water imaginable to man, you felt like a brand new person. accompanied by a lavender-scented bath bomb, a glass of wine and your favorite netflix show playing in the background, you got out of that bath in the best mood you'd been in in weeks.

the one downside was how incredibly relaxed the bath had gotten you. you were so relaxed, you could've fallen victim to endless slumber in that bathtub. as much as you needed jihoon to fuck you to sleep, you weren't sure how well you'd be able to perform if you tried to return the favor.

luckily for you, that would not be an issue.

upon walking back into the room, now donning some comfortable pajamas, you were met with the sight of a fully-asleep jihoon, cocooned between the sheets as he snored softly. the sight had you swooning with affection for the boy. he was the softest, most relaxing thing you had ever seen.

you couldn't help yourself in making your way to him, somehow maneuvering yourself into his arms and under the sheets, feeling more relaxed than ever.

before you could even close your eyes, the boy shuffled behind you, mumbling against your ear as he cuddled further into you.

"baby?", he mumbled.

"sorry, baby. did i wake you?"

"hmm, no you're fine. i meant to stay awake for you, but the bed's just so damn comfy," he chuckled breathily, "i took a quick shower downstairs to prepare for, you know, but fuck, i'm just so tired," he whined.

you turned around in his arms, facing him, breaths almost intertwined due to the proximity.

"that's okay, hoonie. 'm so sleepy. maybe ... we could leave it for tomorrow? just sleep in and then we can have some fun tomorrow?" you suggested, pressing a soft peck to his lips.

his arms tightened around your waist, not allowing you to pull back all the way, "only if you kiss me some more," he murmured, eyes stuck to your lips.

"i can agree to that," you giggled, pressing a languid kiss to his lips as he stuck his tongue in your mouth, softly intertwining with your own in a wet kiss.

the rest of the evening was spent softly making out under the warm sheets, legs tangled up together and fully relaxed in each other's arms. sex was the last thing on your mind as you kissed each other every so often, mostly focused on holding onto one another and finding your slumber together. however, this exhaustion did not stop you from waking up the following day, claiming your highs from one another time after time throughout the day, ready to recharge at night and continue the pattern day after day.

[stellar-skyy]

FAMILY (OF SORTS) — Platonic Fatui Harbingers & reader.

i. SUMMARY: The Fatui Harbingers have a soft spot for Arlecchino's child. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: None! iii. NOTES: STRICTLY PLATONIC, headcanons, fluff, parent!arlecchino, house of the hearth!reader, all of the harbingers are reader's weird aunts and uncles, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 1.6k words. iv. A/N: the fatui are just a dysfunctional found family and i will die on this hill. shoutout to @romaritimeharbor for listening to my rambles about this idea 🫶🫶 also pierro and pulcinella aren't here because i could not think of anything to write for them :')

All of the harbingers knew about Arlecchino’s child; the one that appeared in Fatui Headquarters stuck to her side, eyes cast to the floor. They all saw the way that Arlecchino had held a soft grip on their shoulder, guiding them through the halls with the gentle touch of a parent from the gentle hands of a monster.

The Knave always swore she didn’t play favourites, but from an outside view it was clear that they held a special place separate from the rest. Anyone could see the way they appeared so much more frequently by her side. They were permitted to sit in on meetings, following her like a shadow. Some of the Harbingers guessed that she had picked them to be her successor; that their frequent shadowing was training them to take over once she was gone. Others joked about Arlecchino’s apparent soft side taking over. Whatever the reason, time went on, and the Fatui saw more and more of them.

All of them varied in their opinions of them—some indifferent, some fond—but the Harbingers all cared for them in their own ways.

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Columbina simply adores them. They’re just so small and cute, so tiny and fragile! Admittedly, her idea of ‘tiny’ is rather skewed—applying to anyone she deems weaker than her (notably, this label also gets given to Capitano and Tartaglia, despite their larger size and physical strength. The Damselette is truly an enigma.)

Whenever Arlecchino allows her to watch over them, she is delighted. She has a penchant for pet names, so ‘angel’, ‘my sweet’, and ‘lovely’ are all more commonly used than their name. Sometimes there’s a ‘baby’ or ‘bub’ if she’s feeling particularly affectionate, but no matter the name, it is always dripping with sweetness. She’ll sing to them too, to calm them down or get them to sleep. Her voice is gentle, laced with as much love as she would show her own child.

Some Fatui believe Columbina is a woman formed from hollow sweetness; that behind the lazy smile and soft voice, lies a callous and unfeeling heart, but her insistence on singing them to sleep comes from a place of genuine affection.

When they have to return home, she’ll kiss their cheeks and sweep them into a hug, making them promise to visit her soon.

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

The fact that Arlecchino would tear out his throat with her bare hands if he dared to look at them the wrong way is the only thing stopping Dottore from roping [Name] into one of his experiments. Even then, he can’t help but investigate them a bit. Nothing extreme—please put the knife down, Knave—just some simple trials to see how they work. A quick strength assessment, a test of their reflexes, enough to judge the effectiveness of the House of the Hearth’s training.

The segments all had different opinions of them, varying from Prime’s general indifference to some of the younger segments fondness towards them. The latter were less likely to try to trick them into the lab—not that Arlecchino would allow them anywhere near it without strict supervision—and instead focused their efforts on convincing them to help mess with the rest of the Dottores. They proved to be an excellent partner in crime to thoroughly ruin the older segment’s day.

Despite his assertion that he won’t harm them, Dottore tends to be the one Arlecchino trusts least around her child. His unwillingness to get on her bad side doesn’t stop her from insisting Columbina or herself accompany them whenever they visit his lab.

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Tartaglia loves them. The days he gets to see his siblings are few and far between, so he’s always eager to play the older brother for them, and for any other House of the Heath kids that stop by. In fact, whenever any of the children visit, he makes sure to buy them plenty of sugary treats and candies before quickly sending them back to their Father.

(Arlecchino was not happy the first time this happened. It didn’t stop him from doing it every time, though.)

He was the first to convince them to call him Uncle, a feat that he bragged about to the rest of the Harbingers. This small incident would inadvertently lead to a petty competition to see who their favourite is, an event that would quickly spiral out of control with bribery and promises coming from all sides.

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Sandrone is very particular with who she allows in her workshop. When the rare guest was allowed inside, they had to follow three simple rules: do not touch anything, do not move unless I tell you to, and do not talk to me while I work. When [Name] first stumbled into the room, she was prepared to discourteously shoo them out the way she did whenever Tartaglia poked his head in to see what she was working on. But after some extensive begging, she relented and sat them down in a corner to watch her work. 

Even if she is far less fond of them as some of the other Harbingers, she still audibly squeaked the first time she was called Aunt Sandrone. This was covered up with a cough, but nothing could stop the warmth blooming in her chest. It was the first time a living creature had addressed her with such a familial title; some of her synthetic creations had a habit of calling her Mother, but this was a living, breathing person.

After they started calling her that, she quietly told them they were free to visit when she was working—provided they did not interfere with anything. 

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

As much as he denies it, Scaramouche has a big soft spot for kids. He’ll swear up and down that he doesn’t care for them at all, but he treats them noticeably gentler than he treats any other member of the Fatui. Arlecchino once caught them huddled against him, using his wide-brimmed hat to shelter from the rain. She never let him forget that moment—the fearsome Balladeer, who notoriously never let anyone close enough to touch him, allowing her child to use him as an umbrella.

They remind him a little too much of the young boy he once considered his family. Whenever he spends time with them, there is something inside that both urges him to protect them in the way he couldn’t protect that child, and warns keep them at arm’s length before they betray him too. But his endearment towards them prevailed, and he begrudgingly allowed them a place in his heart.

Unlike Columbina’s affectionate pet names, the only nicknames Scaramouche gives them are ‘kid’ and ‘brat’, depending on his mood. On good days, they might even get called by their name, though it is a rarity. He cares for them, truly. In his own, strange way.

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Capitano is the best at giving advice out of all the harbingers. He is much more down to earth than Columbina and Dottore, and far less cynical than Scaramouche and Sandrone. He’ll let them ramble about their frustrations freely before offering gentle suggestions on what they should do to help. Even if they aren’t looking for a solution, he’s patient enough to hear out their thoughts, however jumbled and incoherent they may be.

He also likes teaching them skills he deems important for a young person to know. These include cooking—Tartaglia is not allowed to join them in these lessons after he almost burnt down the kitchen trying to ‘help’—as well as sewing and mending clothes.  

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Pantalone never would describe himself as parental. He never cared too much for kids; he hadn’t enough patience to deal with constantly crying babies or needy toddlers. Arlecchino’s child was thankfully far above that age, so they were less unbearable to deal with.

He was quite happy to spoil them with extravagant gifts and treats to win their favour, but the most effective way he does so is simply spending time with them. Trips to luxurious restaurants for lunch, allowing them to shadow him while he works. He also likes to give them advice—completely unasked for—about life, and relationships. Unlike Capitano however, his advice is of a much less helpful; he has a habit of advocating for blackmail for solving problems.

In exchange for a box of the most expensive pastries in Teyvat, he got them to call him their favourite uncle in front of Tartaglia. The miniscule dent in his funds was worth the look of betrayal on the younger Harbinger’s face.

⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Signora easily took the longest to warm up to them. When she first met them, it was easy enough to label them as Arlecchino’s brat and move them from her mind. But they kept appearing, in and around the headquarters. At first they were always glued to the Knave’s side, but eventually Signora began to see them wandering alone through the halls. She took note of them—not out of any attachment to them, only out of self-preservation knowing that if Arlecchino found out her child landed themself into trouble while she was close by, it would be her funeral soon.

The sense of obligation faltered when she started to grow fond of them. They were irritatingly innocent, a rarity within the Fatui. Something about the spark in their eyes reminded her of when she was young—when she still had warmth in her heart and blood in her veins. For the first time in centuries, her frozen heart began to thaw with care towards another person, and begrudgingly, she began to accept that they were not as unpleasant as she once believed.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hey Author! I love your BatFam work, and I was wondering if you could write something for the boys (especially Jason 🤤) reactions if the friend they had a crush on told them that their s/o had forgotten their birthday/anniversary/some other important day in their life?

Jason

Finds it insulting that your apparent ‘partner’ hasn’t spoiled you rotten, praise you for blessing their life with your love, time and affection, nor worshiped the ground you walked upon but instead forgot the most important day of your life and for what?

There was no excuse and Jason knew that if he were your man, he’d have everything planned months in advance for you, things such as a long winded letter that told you how much he adored you; followed by plenty of small gifts with deeper meanings for the pair of you scattered throughout the apartment.

However the grim reality was that he wasn’t your man, you were in the arms of someone who didn’t know what they have is someone who is one in a million.

He’d would try and attempt to write something sweet and heartwarming for you, all in hopes of replicating the very things he reads in books, and while he may not be good at it but he’s more then willing to try for you regardless.After all it was more effort than what your partner was putting in, claiming you weren’t worth the headache of planning for anymore.

Something so which that upon finding out, only proved to piss Jason off as to him that wasn’t love, it wasn’t anything at all and you certainly shouldn’t be on the receiving end of such..laziness. So while his best might not be good, but it sure as hell was a masterpiece in comparison of doing nothing for you like your asshole of a partner. He’d get you a plush that looked like him and tell you that it’s hiding a message, or a little gift that you might like, something for you to open when you were alone to read and or open the packaging.

If your partner was out for the night then Jason would have you come over to his place where he- with the help of Roy and dick- had decorated his apartment to celebrate you and everything that was you. You might find yourself wearing his hoodie for the night before having to take it off when you had to go home, but Jason would sneak it into your bag while you weren’t looking and when you eventually found it alongside a note telling you that once you were tried of that fool, come and find him.

You were left imagining a life where you had chosen Jason over your pathetic partner and how much more colourful life would be in comparison, but for now you’ll guess that it’s black and grey until you defied that enough was enough.

Bruce

Spends money on you, like serious money amounts of money on anything your heart desires because you deserve the most.

Sure it’s under an anonymous name but it doesn’t take long for one to figure out that it was from Bruce Wayne, for one the gift was expensive for even the most richest of families to afford so effortlessly, not without feeling the impact on their bank account.

Not Bruce Wayne however, never Bruce Wayne as even the most expensive gift in Gotham was an easy purchase for that man, and he’ll happily get if for you with the snap of his fingers, for anything you could ever want was as easy as breathing to come true for the billionaire.

He’d even personally come to your home and invite you to dinner over at his manor, only if you were interested of course he wasn’t going to pressure you.

‘But I’ve got nothing fancy to wear mr Wayne.’ You’d reply.

Bruce waves his hand. ‘Please call me Bruce, and there’s no need for fancy attire just whatever you feel comfortable in because you’d look charming regardless.’

You’d smile, this was the nicest compliment you’ve ever gotten, seeing as how your partner doesn’t even bother taking you out anymore, claiming you were costing them hard earned money and weren’t worth the headache. Something that Bruce disapproved of heavily, sighting that your partner was lazy, unappreciative and neglectful of you in every aspect of the word, and he wasn’t about to allow that to continue.

He was going to show you that you deserved more. That you should look for more from a partner -him- because you deserved someone who was more than willing to have you and isn’t afraid to show you off. *cough* him *cough*

Damian

Like father like son but Damian would gift you small trinkets that he knew you’d like, not because it was to spite your pathetic excuse of a negligent partner but because you deserved to be showered in such gifts.

You deserved to be treated more then how your current partner was treating you in general, and he’ll gladly show you such as he takes you out along with the dogs. Not only would he bring the dogs but he’d take you on a park date where you both painted on canvases, eat sweet treats and just have an overall good time together.

You know like a proper couple. Your partner should take notes.

Damian would tell you that you should break up with your partner, straight up, no mincing his words, he truly thinks that if one is unhappy on their relationship they should just leave and search for someone better. In this case your better partner was him, simple as that.

He wants you to wake up and realise that the better you’d wish to have was right in front of you, more than ready to lay down his life for you at any minor inconveniences should you ask him to. That and the dogs love you to death and didn’t like your partner neither as they’d growl at them to show their distain for the shitbag.

‘It’s Gotham, there is no better Damian, there’s just what you get and you have to live with it.’ You told him as you overlooked the city.

‘There is.’ Damian stated as he stared at you, the crappy city lights made you look angelic in his eyes and he’ll badly die on that no matter what. Then he glanced down at your hand, wanting nothing more than to hold it within his own, keeping it warm and safe in his like he should’ve from the start. ‘They…just weren’t fast enough to save you from that poor excuse for a partner.’ He adds with venom when referring to your partner.

You glanced over at him, searching him for a bluff but only finding the truth when his eyes remained on you, baring it all for you to read until you were satisfied. Damian wasn’t going to do anything until you make the first step and cut ties with your current partner and seek him out afterwards, so until then he’ll wait, he’ll always wait.

Dick

Takes you on an impromptu date…as friends of course…unless…👀

Dick thinks your partner is well….a dick for not wanting to spend time with you during your special day, but yet was more then willing to take your mind off of something negative and make something positive for you to focus on. Dick believed you shouldn’t have to be miserable and alone because someone else couldn’t be bothered to shower you in affection and appreciation.

He’ll gladly do so in their stead by locking arms with you, putting his hand on your lower back when in crowded areas, or just finding some way to keep hold of you however he could to prove that a love should go deeper then spoken words. Words to dick can only display feelings so far before you have to show it through other means and dick was the most affectionate when he was with you.

It was almost as though whenever he was within your presence, he felt the need to hold your hand, smile at you in a way that was special for the both of you, hold your face in his hands as he presses his forehead against yours while staring deeply into your eyes. Anything and everything he could think of dick found himself wanted to do with you and only you, and so if your partner wasn’t going to spend time with you, dick will and he will do it because he wants to be with you.

To Dick, being with you wasn’t a chore or an obligation to him, he wanted to be with you because he genuinely likes you and so much more.

Dick will bring Hayley because you loved her so much, and he will bring her often just to see you smile as you greeted the dog with open arms as she licked your face with affection. After all everyone loves dogs.

Dick would show you everything you’re missing out on and leaving you with the question; were you with the right person?

Tim

Finds it despicable that your partner couldn’t be arsed to spend time with you or get you gifts. He knows he can do a thousand times better than him. A thousand times better then him but I’d only he asked you out first before the rat of a person did, it’s a regret he holds within his heart and blames his hesitance for on many instances.

Tim would go so far as to find online shops and spend -on Bruce’s credit card no less because this man has those numbers memorised- on things that he remember you saying in passing that you liked but couldn’t afford unfortunately.

He’d have movie nights with you as you both shared his computer, eating pizza and your favourite sweets that he just so casually remembers, all the while just being over all comfortable with one another as sooner or later you’d rest your head again his shoulder.

Now this wouldn’t have looked like much, but when you had a crush on someone who was with someone who didn’t treat them like you did, Tim felt ask though he was within his one little dimension with you. He felt as though he was living the dream he was too afraid to make reality, he felt how right this was and how perfectly seamless this all was between the two of you; this was the dream he wanted to live with you in but until you break up with that prick, he couldn’t give you the life you so deserved in his eyes.

‘Thank you Tim.’ You said sleepily.

‘For what?’ He asks.

‘For everything, for remembering.’ You replied as you continued to watch the movie whereas Tim kept looking at you with a solemn look. You shouldn’t have to thank him for this, not at all because he’d gladly repeat this scenario countlessly for you if you so wanted.

‘No need to thank me,’ Tim told you, ‘I’m just doing what any other would’ve done for you.’ He adds awkwardly, still feeling the regret of not asking you out fast enough for his one liking as he offered you some sweets as the next movie played; ironically it was about a boy pining for someone who is in a shit relationship. Tim silently groaned as he was forced to watch what felt like his current situation play out before him, while you only snuggled up closer to him and casually saying.

‘This is one of my favourites.’

Tim knew even the devil would wince at his predicament, finding it enough torture for him as it was. He only hopes that you break up with the prick sooner rather the later before he says something stupid and by accident.

[wonder-worker]

I should clarify that we don't know if Thomas More actually met Elizabeth Shore! While he claimed that he did, David Santiuste has pointed out that More's description of Elizabeth in her later years, "where a 'fallen woman' loses her beauty, echoes familiar tropes in moral literature" at the time. It was very common to find such narratives in Tudor England, such as Robert Henryson's popular poem, Testament of Cresseid. So, while most historians have (unfortunately) taken More's claim at face-value based on that description, it can and should be questioned more than it has been till date.

Also, More's knowledge about Elizabeth's life was distinctly lacking and unreliable* in a way that makes it hard to believe he was getting his information from her. For example, he claimed that she was still married to William Shore in 1483 even though we know she had divorced Shore years ago; he didn't know that Richard III had accused her of having an affair with Thomas Gray despite the very public nature of that accusation; and he either didn't know or deliberately erased the fact that she married Thomas Lynom (and had a child with him) shortly after her penance walk. Instead, More seems to have created a tragic afterlife for her, claiming that she ended her life destitute and friendless, which was...almost definitely untrue (her reality would have been far, far happier). His claim that Richard III accused Elizabeth Shore of witchcraft was also most probably false and invented by More himself: the Great Chronicle never mentions any such thing, Richard's own proclamations against her suggest against the idea, and a textual comparison to Vergil's account (which More directly used as a source for that specific scene) indicates that More seems to have inserted Elizabeth Shore into the accusation that was, historically, only levelled at Elizabeth Woodville**.

In short: We don't know if More truly met Elizabeth Shore; at the very least, his claim should be taken with a grain of salt. But even if More did meet her, or at the very least came across her (which is plausible, as her second husband had a flourishing career under the Tudors and died in the 1510s), his haphazard knowledge of her makes it very unlikely that he could have questioned her about events of her life. Alternatively, if he did question her, he seems to have had no problem massively editing, rewriting or outright inventing several crucial and defining aspects of her life to suit his own narrative convenience. Whatever the case, it's clear that More was not using Elizabeth Shore as a source of information. It's also clear that he demonstrably did not care about historical accuracy where she was concerned*** (his descriptions of her are incredibly self-indulgent and generic) and should not be taken at face-value when talking about her life.

*We don't know if she and Edward IV truly had an affair, or if it was actually long-term & public (both of which are different things, and both of which have no verifiable evidence as of now). But even if they did have some kind of relationship, evidence strongly contradicts the idea that she was a visible figure during his reign - which may explain More's haphazard knowledge of her. Indeed, the author of the Great Chronicle could not even remember her name, merely calling her "a woman named Shore", with a blank space left before her surname. Similarly, the Elizabethans - who derived their knowledge of her entirely from More's account being printed and circulated from the 1540s - seem to have been so unfamiliar with her that they invented a fake name, fake husband (a goldsmith named Matthew) and fake backstory for her. More himself, in addition to his various inaccuracies about her, claims that she had a memorable role at court while simultaneously taking it for granted that his audience will not know who she is (which...does not make sense). He also literally never bothers to mention her name throughout his account; we don't know if he even knew what it was. Compare this to the consistent and matter-of-fact way contemporary and post-contemporary chroniclers spoke of Alice Perrers and Katherine Swynford, or how Rosamund Clifford's name was organically remembered across the centuries. In contrast, the absence of Elizabeth Shore in post-contemporary chronicles, and the ignorance that both More and the Great Chronicle displayed for the most basic elements of her life, cast immense doubt on the idea of her so-called visibility. If she had an affair with Edward IV, we can also conclude other things about their relationship based on current evidence, which may explain why chroniclers had such lacking knowledge of her. For one, she never received any official grants or rewards from Edward throughout his reign, a striking contrast to Alice Perrers and Katherine Swynford who received plenty from their royal lovers during Queen Philippa and Constance of Castile's lives. With the variety of 14th century English and 15th century French & Breton precedents that Edward had at his disposal when it came to rewarding royal mistresses in such a way, we can only conclude that if they were in a relationship, he simply did not want to honour Elizabeth Shore in such a public manner (ie: through patent and Parliament rolls, etc). Nor did Edward ever favor her parents, despite his patronage of so many other London merchants. It's very hard to understand how someone who had so little influence that she was incapable of obtaining grants for herself or her family would somehow have been able to intercede on behalf of others as Thomas More (very generically and romantically) claimed she did. Indeed, Elizabeth is absent from all known cases of intercession during Edward's second reign, and specific examples dispel the idea that she was viewed as a figure of visible influence like Alice and Katherine had been (see: the Merchant Adventurers Company sending desperate appeals to influential figures at court in 1480; Elizabeth Lambert is conspicuously absent from the list). In my opinion, if historians claim that Edward III and John of Gaunt's affairs with Alice and Katherine were "discreet" during Philippa and Constance's lives despite having actual contemporary evidence of their affairs via records and chronicles, then we must necessarily view the (potential, unverified, unknown) relationship between Edward IV and Elizabeth Shore as 10x more discreet considering we have no evidence for it at all. Based on what we know so far, given that post-contemporary chroniclers could not even remember her name, I think this interpretation is only fair.

**Re Elizabeth's role in 1483: another thing I want to clarify is that her arrest and penance walk doesn't seem to have had anything to do with Edward IV - as is commonly assumed - but with William Hastings. Simon Stallworth's contemporary letter, written on 21st June, makes it clear that Elizabeth was imprisoned shortly after Hastings' execution. The Great Chronicle likewise emphasizes that she was punished for her affair with Hastings (which mirrors how Richard used her to disparage Thomas Gray, and suggests that he was using the same tactic here to vilify Hastings) without ever linking her to Edward IV. Also, the idea of her being a messenger between Elizabeth Woodville and Hastings is simply not true: it is a modern fantasy theory that has been irresponsibly accepted by historians as a fact. It has no basis in history (it's highly improbable that Elizabeth Woodville and Hastings were in an alliance) and no chronicle, including More, claimed Richard accused her of this.

***In general, Thomas More is very unreliable when it comes to Edward IV's life - specifically his love life - as well. Apart from his false claim that he died at the age of 53 (???), More seems to have invented a page-long fictional story about Edward's alleged pre-contract, claiming that it was actually with Elizabeth Lucy who had once been summoned by his mother to court to try and deter him from marrying Elizabeth Woodville (we know that the pre-contract was with Eleanor Talbot, there is no record of a woman named "Elizabeth Lucy" even existing at the time, and there is no evidence of Edward's council or his mother doing any such thing). Additionally, More claimed that Edward IV discussed his marriage to Elizabeth Woodville with his courtiers before he married her, which is obviously not true. He also claimed that Edward had three long-term mistresses, which is explicitly contradicted by other chroniclers like Dominic Mancini, who arrived in England at the end of Edward's life and clearly states that he was known for having very short-term sexual affairs; it's very hard to understand how Mancini could have gotten such a radically different impression from courtiers and local Londoners if a long-term public mistress like Elizabeth Shore existed at that time. For that matter, the claim is also contradicted by Thomas More himself, who implies that Edward's affairs stopped in his last years ("in his youth given to fleshy wantonness...in his latter days, it lessened and well left"). I'm really not sure how we can reconcile that with what More claims about Elizabeth Lambert. Interestingly enough, More's claim that Edward may have eventually stopped having affairs is actually supported another independent chronicler, Habington, who wrote that "Even from [lust] which was reputed his bofome finn, toward the later end of his life, he was [somewhat] cleare: either [conscience] reforming him, or by continuall faciete growne to a loathing of it". Of course, we don't know if this is true or not, but whatever the case, the point is that More's claims re Edward's love life are ... really not reliable. On the contrary, he has displayed a pretty stellar record of invention, exaggeration and general inconsistency. His claims re Ellizabeth Shore cannot be taken at face-value and should be questioned & doubted far more than they are.

(Of course, this isn't to argue that everything More claimed about Elizabeth was an outright invention. This isn't true at all: he clearly did know some pretty important things about her. But when it comes to the existence and nature of her alleged affair with Edward IV...we just don't know. More could have been making it up; he could have been telling the truth; he could have been narrating what he believed was the truth; he could have been basing his account on a grain of truth while exaggerating/constructing the rest (in my opinion, the last one makes the most sense and fits best with what we know so far). What I'm trying to say is that More's claims regarding their alleged affair are not verifiable and reliable, and his claims regarding the nature of that affair can be contradicted by actual evidence and other sources, including More's own account. All in all - like you said, he can't be used uncritically as a source when it comes to her.

What is your opinion on Elizabeth Lambert? Does she have any unknown related knowledge?

I find her very interesting, particularly with the way her story parallels Alice Perrers and Eleanor Cobham, and I find her a very sympathetic figure. I don't know too much about her since the end of the Wars of the Roses isn't one of "my" periods and the thought of sorting through the Ricardians from the Ricardian-influenced to the Tudorites to find decent information about them just makes me go "no" and give up.

I'm not quite sure what you mean by your second question. We don't know a lot about her since the lives of mistresses aren't very well documented, particularly ones not of aristocratic birth. In addition, a lot of what we know about Elizabeth comes from Thomas More. He did claim to have met her but More can't be used uncritically as a source. The best coverage of Elizabeth's life, afaik, N. Barker's article, 'The real Jane Shore’ in Etoniana, 125 (1972) and 126 (1972). I've not read them myself but I believe Barker was the scholar who discovered "Jane Shore" was in fact Elizabeth Lambert.

[supercutszns]

bitter to the taste; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc + pairing: 5.5k, luke castellan x f!reader

synopsis: a sharp blade, a black eye, and (more than) two kisses.

warnings: this is even sluttier than the last one, language, sword fighting, sharp objects, blood/injuries, reader is still a horrible person and so is luke but he's also a loooser, making out, allusions/mentions of sex but no super explicit descriptions, kind of fluffy at the end

notes: i’m starting to hate this bc i think i’ve been staring at it too long sorry if this is not as good as pt.1 but i have plans for this series ok. also READER AND LUKE ARE NOT GOOD PEOPLE!!! THEIR RELATIONSHIP WILL NOT ALWAYS BE GOOD!!! THEY SUCK!! they are also not real but keep that in mind :) synopsis inspired by crush by ethel cain; designated song for this fic is unpunishable by ethel cain (i’ve got a whole chronological playlist for these freaks like it’s serious)

You’ve always had a taste for violence. And an equally powerful penchant for sloth. 

You prefer to watch the carnage, not participate. It satisfies something inside you that you know, if it wasn’t for your laziness, could cause something irrevocable. Who the hell has time for that?. You’d rather lie back and watch instead.

This flaw of yours is the only reason you haven’t stirred more trouble, you think. It’s the reason you never attend camp games or sparring lessons. Sometimes, when you do, a dark muscle flexes inside your heart to curl out of its slumber, forming a hunger you don’t have otherwise. The second it starts to pry you have to rear yourself back and tuck the monster in. Banish the need for something more.

You don’t want to feed it. You don’t know what happens if you do. So you let other people do the feeding for you.

Luke cuts through two dummy heads in one swoop. It’s fucking gorgeous. The moon reflects off his sword, a silver sheen casting his face when he’s in the right spot. His brows are set, eyes so dark they blend with the night. Every motion is ruthless. Satisfying. 

You don’t know how many times you’ve watched him like this. He called you out for it last night, but you’re sure he doesn’t know the half of it. The shadows are a sacred cloak to you, and you wait inside them until you want your presence known. 

Meet me tomorrow. 

It runs through your head like a broken record. You can still feel his breath on your lips and your neck is still tender—had to wear a sweater in the blazing heat to hide the marks. Since you were created you’ve accepted a universal truth about yourself: you don’t harbour affection for anyone or anything. There’s not a single thing you’ve felt drawn to or protective over but yourself. It’s solitary, yes, and lonely, yes, but that’s the way you’re supposed to be. 

But you think about last night. You think about the moments between the kisses and the rush. When he teased you against your ear. When his hand brushed a certain spot on your back and something much lighter fluttered inside of you. When you crawled into sleep and thought about him, those were the moments that struck you the strangest. 

His gaze pans over the treeline every once in a while, the anger diluted. Then it comes back twice as hard as he shreds another dummy to pieces. 

He’s waiting for you. Oh, this is rich! A better person would probably turn around and go spoon their offerings into the bonfire the second they understand what they’re doing is incredibly destructive. But who are we kidding? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. 

So you take a step forward, slip out of the comfort of the dark, and the next time he looks to the treeline he knows you’re there. He can’t see you, but he knows. 

You wait. His strikes are less tenuous, much smoother. It almost makes you laugh. Some fucking showman he is. 

Eventually, he buries his blade in the dirt and wipes his brow. “Are you gonna come talk to me or are you gonna stare at me all night like an owl?”

You relish in the feeling of shedding the darkness, coming into the light of the moon. “Hi,” you say flatly, but there’s a tiny smile on his face when he sees you that almost puts you off. 

“Hello, rotten.” He tries to lean on the hilt of his sword but it isn’t quite tall enough so he stumbles. It’s so pathetic it almost makes you laugh. 

“Don’t call me that,” you grimace.

“Okay, back to heathen?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Well, you don’t seem too happy when people call you by your name so pick your poison here.” 

You don’t say anything, your mouth set in a scowl. “All right, both it is,” Luke shrugs.

He’s different from last night. Less impatient. You hope it’s not because he thinks he has you now—he’s got another thing coming. “I almost thought you weren’t gonna come,” he says with a crooked grin, neither bashful nor ashamed. 

You’ve made your way closer to him, the soft grass turning to dusty earth. “Don’t know why I did,” you mutter crassly. 

Having abandoned his sword, Luke chuckles wryly. “Yes, you do.”

That bitterness he hides from everyone else pierces through. He tilts your face up like he did yesterday, the press of his fingers beneath your chin almost burning you. You know he’s peering at the marks on your neck. 

“If you made me come here just to hook up with me you’re delusional,” you glare. 

“What, like that’s not why you’re here?” He pushes your face up a little higher, grinning a little when you add resistance. “I’m a gentleman, you know. I can be patient.”

This guy is full of fucking shit.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you snipe. The only point of contact you have is his hand on your chin, but you’re a hair’s breadth away from having everything else. The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you.

He keeps your face still. He’s studying you, and you’re suddenly curious about what he sees. You remember all those looks you’d share at the dinner tables that made this happen in the first place. What did he see then? 

“You wanna fight?”

It takes you a second to react. “What?”

“You want to fight. Pick up a sword, let’s go.” He smiles as he finally lets you go, waltzing away from you to unbury his sword from the dirt. His touch permeates through your skin and you hate it. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I can’t fight.”

“Sure you can,” he replies, grabbing another sword from the training rack. “You need to burn off a little steam.”

You laugh sharply. “And you think me waving a sword around is gonna do that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he grins. “It’s the method that lets us keep the most clothes on.” 

You glare at him. His smirk is a mile wide. The way your stomach is simmering almost makes you sick; it’s like gorging yourself on candy except this time the candy has a sword and maybe wants to fuck you. 

You just watch as he hands you his sword, and the moonlight glinting off the metal has you believing it’s not the kind used for training. “I’ll use the dull one,” he assures. “C’mon, heathen. I know you’ve used a sword before, they force us to.”

“I usually skip those classes.”

He laughs. You can’t tell if it’s at you or with you. “Of course you do.”

You don’t like following orders, but oh, what the hell. Luke knows something about you, just like you know something about him. You’re only a little curious about it. 

“Straighten your back,” is the first thing he says once you’ve taken your stance across from him. The blunt of his sword reaches out to tap your hip. 

You begrudgingly do as you’re told. He watches you mirthfully, and the press of his sword against you starts to feel like a substitute for his hand. All the closeness you’re hungry for, dampened by cold steel. It still makes you buzz. 

He gives you the barebones—the right grip, how to maneuver, the proper balance. But long gone is his easy disposition. The motor inside him that powered all those dummy beheadings and disembowelments is running again, except this time it’s for you. He wants a fight. This is his battlefield. All right, you’ll bite.

You start to spar with the skill of an overgrown toddler. The sword feels like an unnatural ligament hanging off your body. Luke is precise, convicting, far more enthusiastic than you. “You can do better than that,” he prods after your swords clash lazily for the billionth time. “Stop going easy.”

“You’re going easy,” you shoot back. 

“Yeah, but I’d really rather not. Come on.” 

There’s a moment of hesitation. You think about that dark thing you keep harboured. A muscle aching to be used. 

“Come on,” he says again, and he almost sounds pissed. “All of a sudden you’re playing nice? What are you afraid of?”

Something flares inside you. “Nothing!”

“Then pick up the sword and fight me.”

You huff and roll your eyes, but your next swing is far more inspired. Luke blocks it easily, but you don’t care. “There we go,” he nods. “Again.”

This is more than you bargained for when you decided to come see him. All you want is to make out with this hot, awful person and have him tell you hot, awful things about yourself you probably already know. Why do you have to fight to get it? 

He keeps provoking you no matter how hard you try. Your temper picks up the more you swing, discordant clangs bruising the air, but it’s still not enough. Luke doesn’t let up. Of course the one time you try to be nice, you’re not allowed to. On second thought, why are you reigning yourself in for Luke? The only other person in camp with a real, consuming viciousness? If anything you should hit him twice as hard, since he’s so sure he can take it. 

“No wonder you’re so angry all the time,” Luke heaves out, and it gives you a swell of satisfaction. “You don’t have a proper outlet. Maybe you’d be nicer if you didn’t sit around and complain all day.”

“Shut up,” you gnash your teeth. 

“Just saying, maybe you should do something about it.”

You’re getting lost in the rhythm of the swords, the adrenaline, the sweat passing the scar on his cheek. Every swing you think less and less, and that dark muscle flexes more and more. It feels like home to you. Like a good meal. Your bones ache and the world has darkened, but that rotten pit inside you cracks open in full bloom. 

Luke keeps egging you on but you can’t hear him. Not like he still needs to. You think you’re smiling, or huffing furiously, or both. The sharpness of the sword intrigues you. A million terrible things reflect off its blade and you imagine them, all at once, until you are out of your body and the black hole inside you has properly wedged itself open. 

Luke jabs at you and you bring your sword down with a vengeance. But it’s a little too low. You only notice when he drops his weapon to the side and staggers back.

The fog of violence falters. It fades almost completely when he hisses long and hard, eyes screwed shut, and you see the tear in his shirt. In his skin. 

“Shit,” you say. “Fuck.”

You don’t sound sorry, you don’t think you are sorry, especially when he laughs. It’s a wheezy one through his teeth as you come up to him, but a laugh nonetheless. “Knew you were going easy,” he remarks through a wince. 

You ignore him, looking down at the injury. A  gash across his abdomen. It’s bleeding a little, but not enough for it to drip. You did that. Just looking at the blood, you feel the bitter taste of it in your mouth, the reward a temporary hunger for carnage brought you. This is why you don’t play camp games. 

“I’ve got thick skin. I’m fine,” Luke says casually. “I’ve got a medical kit under that tree over there in case I beat myself up too bad.” He’s no longer scrunched in pain, and you’ve got a feeling he’s telling the truth. So you go fetch the kit where he said it was. You need to wrap that slash. Not because you’re sorry for him, but because looking at it makes you angry. 

You kneel and pop the lid of the small tin kit, covered in dirt. It’s mostly gauze and bandages. Rubbing alcohol too. “Just give me the gauze, that’s all I need,” Luke gestures. 

“Shut the fuck up, I’m doing it myself.” You’ve already torn off some gauze, sitting all the way up on your knees. 

“Most people just say sorry.”

“You pushed me,” you spit back, surprisingly forceful. Luke’s smile drops. You take a deep breath, adjusting yourself to get eye level with the injury. “I told you I don’t fight.”

You’re not sure what makes Luke give in, but he doesn’t say a word as you lift the hem of his torn shirt and he holds it up. There’s no proud remark about your eyes lingering on his stomach, or the hesitation in your hands. You stare at the wound. It really is shallow. Your thumb presses at the skin around it and he winces. “My bad,” you mutter. 

As you sterilize the cut and wrap the gauze around his torso, you try not to let your fingertips cling to the warmth on his skin. You try not to notice the other scars littered there, most faded to the point they should be impossible to pick up even in the sun. It’s obvious he’s staring at you. Your neck is crawling with warmth. But you don’t engage, you just wrap the gauze a few times and do your best not to notice the rise and fall beneath his muscles as he breathes. Then you fasten things neatly and put everything away so you can get up. Any second. Come on. 

“Good?” You ask instead, exhaling. 

“Good,” he affirms. He slides a hand under your forearm and gets you up. It stays there once you’re standing. The night stills. 

“I’m guessing you’re adding ‘attempted killer’ to your list of horrible qualities,” you go on to break the silence.

He holds your gaze unyieldingly. “I’d consider that a pro, actually.” 

You are entirely fed up with this drawn out evening, but you can’t bring yourself to speed anything up any more than stepping closer so your chests brush. “I will give you one, though,” he continues, craning down to your ear. You smell his skin and it sends you back to the position you were in yesterday. 

He finally kisses your jaw, just once, then your neck. You shiver. “You’re too tense.” Another kiss behind your ear. It’s not enough. “Do you even know how to have fun?”

“I don’t want to have fun,” you reply bitterly. I just want to make out with you, asshat.

Luke’s breath frosts over your face when he chuckles, but before he can get any further away you catch his mouth with yours. Almost instinctively his arm winds around you to pull you in closer, your hand looping through his curls. It's a relief, knowing last night wasn't some freak accident. This does feel good, actually, and it can happen. Everything you felt yesterday is only more urgent now, hungrier, and you're pretty sure the way you kiss him gives that away.

He indulges you, squeezing the base of your hips as his other hand thumbs across the marks on your neck. This is so fucking embarassing—you think you whine when he bites down on your bottom lip. You’ve never needed something this bad, you’ve never needed anything. But you press yourself as close to him as you can manage and his hand runs lower, slips against your inner thighs, and it’s difficult to worry about anything else. 

Until he pulls away. Like a dick. 

He doesn’t go far, his forehead pressed to yours, but you feel like pulling out all his hair. It’s a muddling mix of frustration and longing you’re starting to associate with him. “Dude,” you groan, an inner coil only starting to unwind begrudgingly compressing. 

“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. The enthusiasm is almost alarming. Almost makes him look younger.

You’re homicidal. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes, heathen. Let’s go for a swim, come on.”

He’s rubbing circles on your thigh, which only makes you want to strangle him. “But I—I don’t have my bathing suit,” you string out. 

The smile gets more boyish. “Wow, whatever shall we do?”

It’s another challenge. Another dare. And he knows what you want, fucking jerk. You’re going to kill him. 

“Fine,” you grunt, and the second the words leave your lips you’re pulled to the lake. 

It’s a warm, sticky evening, only made worse with the sweat and the half-assed kissing, so the water doesn’t seem all that bad. Unfortunately, you don’t like giving into demands. So you stare ghoulishly at your fingernails as Luke tosses off his ripped shirt and his shorts so he can plunge into the lake. “Aren’t you going to at least come in?” He asks, but you don’t look at him. 

“I don’t like swimming,” you lie. 

“At least your feet. It’s nice, I swear!”

A splash, like smoke moving through wind chimes. You look up and Luke has completely submerged, popping his head up closer to the mouth of the dock. “Please,” he says with such conviction your resolve turns to butter. Gods, what is happening to you? You still need that lobotomy! 

You sigh, roll your eyes, turn your back to him. “Fuck this,” you mutter under your breath. You undress to your undergarments and you’re not sure if you want Luke to be watching or not. The moon touches your bare skin and a chill trickles through you. 

You take a seat at the edge of the dock, knees tucked to your chest. Luke swims over for you right away. His hair is dripping against his skin, and you hate how beautiful it looks. The waterline is high tonight, almost ridiculously so, so he props his elbows up on the dock with no problem. “Come in,” he urges. 

“No.”

“Just your legs?”

“No.”

“Gods, I’ll make it worth it, just throw your damn legs in!” 

Your eyebrows shoot up. His face is stubbornly pink. Oh, so now he wants something. You take your time uncurling yourself and Luke wades away from the dock so you can put your feet in. The water goes up to your calves, and you shiver. “So fucking difficult,” he mutters, and your pulse flickers. 

“Sorry, what was that?” You let yourself grin for the first time all night. 

“Nothing,” he hums. This time when he comes to the dock, he wraps his hands around your calves. You’re pretty sure he can stand here because he stops treading. The warmth of the water seems to spread further, long past the threshold of your knees. 

He rests his chin just above your knee, water pooling on your skin. “Stop dripping on me,” you complain. 

“Sorry.” He fake pouts when he kisses the damp spot. You see, ever so faintly, a diabolic shift in his expression. He nudges your leg with the point of his nose, then kisses it, then starts to move it aside. “Feel bad about teasing you all night,” he murmurs, still with an edge. He presses more kisses on your legs. “I really did want to see you.”

The irony that he’s still teasing is not lost on you. You’re not loving how desperately warm you’re starting to feel. “Why’s that?” You lean back on your palms. 

“You’re a very interesting person,” he quips innocently. His hands are cupping the backs of your calves. He’s pulled you a lot closer to the water, and somehow you’ve just noticed. Another blistering kiss on the inside of your thigh. 

“You’re fucking evil,” you scathe. 

He looks up at you from between your legs. “You have literally done nothing but berate and injure me this whole evening.”

“Yeah, and right after I patch you up you jump in the water for shits. You’re playing infection roulette, Castellan.”

“See? You’re so mean.” He sighs, and in a move that almost surprises you to death, he hoists both your legs over his shoulders and they dangle into the river behind him. “And here I am anyway, making it up to you.”

You are suddenly illuminated on the purpose of this situation. Why Luke is between your legs. Your heart jolts. “Luke, you can’t be serious.” 

“Mmhm.” He leans forward to kiss right under your navel. 

You hate how much you want him to do it again, how your body burns, but you avert your eyes. “Someone’s gonna—someone’s gonna hear us.”

He snorts, “No they won’t. Either this or you come in the water with me. Or both. We’ll see.”

A huge smile cracks across your face before you push it back down. You’re going to spend a lot of time coming back to this moment, this night, wondering why. “What is wrong with you.”

It comes out like a compliment when it leaves you. You want to vanish. Luke chuckles, and something foreign to the both of you buzzes through the air. 

“Are you going to be nice?” He asks against your skin. 

“Are you going to be quick?”

His mouth finds your hip bones and yeah, why the hell would you say no to this? He nods, “Swear.” 

That’s all you need. You let your eyes slide shut and your head tilts towards the sky. Luke takes your permission and runs with it, pries you open with his mouth until the stars soak through the black of your eyelids. 

You discover pretty quickly neither of you are good at keeping promises. 

The next time you need Luke’s med kit, he’s already awake. 

It’s been happening more and more often. You lurking around camp past moonrise and finding Luke outside his cabin, going for a walk or a stretch or a … something with you. 

“Do you ever sleep?” You ask him sometimes between flurries of kisses with your back against a tree. 

“Could ask you the same thing, heathen,” he squeezes your hips and nips at your neck, but never answers the question. And neither do you, so you’re both okay with it. You’d hate to give up this feeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.

This is the first time in your punitive life you have felt alive. Like a person, with bones and flesh and soul, a real presence. Not a ghost of smoke and shadow. You are real. 

Fooling around makes you feel like an actual teenager. You’re young, you remember when Luke joins you in the dark. You’re having fun. His hands under your shirt and his mouth on your collarbone, the way he bites down and winces when you do something a little too well, when you string out his name and he rewards you for it. You’re both greedy, insatiable people, so there’s a push and pull only the two of you would ever be able to handle. And nobody has to know. Despite all the bruises, the sleepless nights, the swollen lips, all you and Luke share in the daylight are noxious looks, and that's only if he can find you. A perfect crime. Camp Half-Blood’s angel and the vice that lives in the shadows. But in the dark, it’s hard to tell which is which. 

“Luke,” you whisper. “Luke.”

“I’m up,” he grumbles, peering up at you. “You shouldn’t sneak into my cabin.” He was already sitting up in his bed when you slipped in, and he didn’t notice you were there till you were right in front of him.

“Worried someone will catch me? You should know better.” 

He follows you outside so you don’t wake the other campers. There’s a thrill knowing just one interaction between the two of you could ruin both your reputations forever. 

“What is it, heathen?” He asks as the door closes behind him. It’s so dark and your back is turned to him, but his voice is drenched in smugness. “You don’t usually want to put up with me more than once a night.”

“Don’t have a choice,” you mutter, staring out at the camp. You go to chew on your bottom lip, but you wince immediately. “Where’s your kit thingy? The one we used after I impaled you.” 

“You mean after you lightly grazed me?” 

“Just tell me where it is, Luke.”

Your sharpness could cut through any sleepy daze he possibly has. He’s silent behind you for a second. “Why?” He asks.

“Because I need it.”

His hand curls around your shoulder and before you can think to submerge yourself in darkness, he turns you around. When he sees you, his face breaks from something proud to something … you’re not sure you like. “Oh, heathen,” he murmurs. “What happened to you?”

You guess it’s a semi-appropriate reaction, although you expected at least a grimace. To put it lightly, your face looks gnarly as fuck. There’s a bruise on your cheekbone and your lip is split. But what really draws attention is the half-formed, garish black eye swelling up your right side. 

“Just the usual. Pissed someone off.” It hurts the skin on your lip that’s caked with blood. 

He rests his thumb on your unbruised cheek, but somehow it still stings. You know he can’t see much of you in the dark but he tries. The prolonged eye contact without the imminent promise of a kiss feels foreign. “You need to go to the Apollo cabin,” he concludes, brows pushed together. 

A laugh slips past your broken lips. “No fucking shot. They would not help me.”

“Why not?”

“Because one of their shit-eaters did this!”

The words take a moment to register. You see them filtering through Luke’s brain. He blinks absurdly. “An Apollo guy beat you up?”

“Not beat up. Just … tussled.”

“How much tussling earns you a black eye, exactly? From Apollo kids.”

“Gods, just tell me where your kit is so you can go back to fucking sleep.”

His fingertips inch around the back of your neck, thumb still against your face. “Already wasn’t sleeping. I might as well help you,” he shrugs. “I move the kit every once in a while so some other campers don’t ravage it.”

“I don’t need help.”

Luke opens his mouth, then sighs deeply. He takes a firm hold of your arm and starts to tug you along. “Hey, what—” you swat at his arm. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he huffs. “Come on.”

It’s strange. Luke’s never done you a favour before. At least not one like this. You’re disgruntled enough that you had to go ask him in the first place and now he’s dragging you around? “This isn’t such a big deal, Luke,” you badger. “I’m fine.”

“Sure, whatever. Wait right here.” He lets go of you and only then you realize you’re in front of the Apollo cabin. You grimace, and Luke must have noticed because he says, “Don’t worry, I’m just gonna go inside and grab some things. No one’s gonna jump you.”

You scowl at him, and he just laughs. A part of you hopes he hits his head on the way in. You hide anyway. 

It’s a few minutes of waiting in the oppressive summer heat, until Luke emerges from the cabin with his hands full. He looks around, hesitantly calling, “Heathen?” Then again. You move out of your hiding spot and he jogs over to greet you. 

“Nice haul,” you comment. There’s an ice pack, cotton pads, a few miscellaneous items. “How’d you get them?”

He smiles widely. “Everyone loves me, heathen. It’s not hard.”

“…So you stole them.”

“Yes, but only because I’m too tired to talk to people and I’m protesting for your sake,” he rattles off. “Now hold this ice pack before it gives me frostbite.”

The two of you make your way down to the docks again. It’s morphed into your usual meeting place, since the waves lapping at the shore mask when Luke gets a little too noisy just to piss you off. (At least that’s what he tells you.)

He’s stashed his little tin in a different tree this time. After he retrieves it he sets everything out like a chef preparing to make a meal out of gauze and rubbing alcohol. 

Your head has been throbbing for the past few hours. You’re not proud that you antagonized the wrong Apollo kid and got a shiner for it. You’re less proud that you came to Luke for help. Just like everyone else does.

“Come,” he gestures, tugging at the waistband of your pants. You scoot closer to him and swallow the weight of your pulse when he touches you. 

Luke slowly presses the ice pack to your black eye, letting you hold it. “What did you do to earn this, anyway?” He asks, head tilted to the side. 

You’re hissing because of the ice, half-consciously shifting into him. “The usual. Spat at him. Made fun of his daddy a little too much. Tripped him so he landed face-first in his offerings.”

“You did not,” Luke laments as he dots alcohol onto a cotton pad. 

“You’re allowed to say you’re proud of me, Saint Castellan. I won’t tell. You can be mean.” Your voice drips with irony, and you hope it bothers him. The flex in his jaw gives it away. 

“You’re always gonna be meaner,” is all he says back. “This is gonna hurt.”

It’s all the warning he gives before he presses the pad against your lip. The sting envelops you immediately, and your good eye squeezes shut. “Shit, ow!” 

“Stop moving your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you swear anyway. Your lip burns so hard you can feel it in your teeth. 

Luke holds your jaw with his other hand so you can’t shy away. “I’ll kiss it better,” he teases. “Almost done.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke takes the pad off a few moments later. “Serious question. How are you so awful to people all the time?”

A groan tears through your throat with such force your head tilts back. “Not you too! I don’t need a fucking reason, there is no reason. Why doesn’t anyone get that?” 

“I’m not asking why. I’m asking how.”

He’s oddly serious, the caress of his thumb on your cheek far slower. You hate it when people want a reason why you’re like this, just to help them sleep at night. But from the bags lining Luke’s eyes, sleep doesn’t seem to be on his radar. 

“I just don’t care,” you admit, shrugging. “I don’t care about any of them. I don’t care about what they can do to me. I don’t care about anything.”

“…What about the Gods?”

It makes you cock your head. “Huh?”

“You wouldn’t care about them, either?”

You think, but only about which words to use. “No,” you decide, “They don’t scare me. They’re nothing. What are they gonna do to me?”

Luke snorts, almost nervously. “Uh, punish you for saying that, for one.”

You turn back to him, ice pack leaving your eye as you gesture. “How? By killing me? Pecking out my eyeballs? Burning me alive? I’m telling you, I don’t care. I don’t care about anything. It’s all just nothing to me. I’m fucking unpunishable, I’d like to see them try.” 

Huffing, you look back up at the firmament of stars. Luke says nothing. 

The grass rustles as he shifts, and his mouth ghosts over the bruise on your eye. “Unpunishable,” he murmurs, like he’s testing it out. Then he places an uncharacteristically gentle kiss just beneath your eye. And another just above. “We’ll see about that.”

You get that feeling again, the unbearable lightness in a place it shouldn’t be. Mixed with the poison lodged in your heart. 

Luke kisses you, still so delicate that you wonder if he’s been body-snatched. If anything, your bleeding lip feels soothed against his. His hands cradle your face with no ferocity at all. It seems wrong. 

“How do you feel?” He asks after pulling away, dark eyes nebulous and wide. The night usually sharpens his features. Now, they’ve been hushed.

“Um, better,” you reply. 

He hums, laying a slow trail of kisses on your jaw. “Did you at least get the other guy?” He asks between kisses. “Like, did you hurt him?”

“Not really,” you divulge, wondering if you should feel shame. 

“Why?” He’s made his way to your neck now, nudging your jaw up so he can kiss behind your ear. 

“I’m not a fighter.” And, without warning, for a reason you will never, ever be able to explain, your tongue adds, “I’m a killer.”

Your own brows furrow. Luke pauses for a moment, but knocks his nose against your neck. “Guess one of us has to be.”

There’s no more fooling around. No snappy insults, no feverish kisses, no hunger to be satiated. Luke just checks you over a few more times, hides his med kit, and you both get up to sleep. But his hand wraps around your wrist, far less firm than when he dragged you here. “Stay in my bunk, heathen,” he offers. “Leave in the morning.”

You think you’re making a mistake when you agree, but it doesn’t feel like one. 

The next day, after you’ve left Luke’s bunk, rumours float around camp that Luke Castellan accidentally butted some Apollo kid in the face with his sword during training. Caused a bloody, broken nose. Luke was very sorry, apologized profusely. 

But you know, by the way he takes you behind the stables that night, that he didn’t mean a single damn word.

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz

rotten taglist: @thaliagracesgf

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[solbaby7]

Testing the Waters

pairing: rhysand x reader

[ 1 ] [ 2 ]

part 3 to the shy!reader massage mini-series

warnings: sexual content, minors DNI, massages, some swearing, probably typos

summary: Weeks of rubbing up on a certain High Lord is bound to build some tension.

—

“Need you to do something for me, bunny.”

There’s a feeling in your stomach at the pet name, bare toes digging further into the throw blanket and it’s instinctual the way your body rises to meet him, your book long forgotten. Rhysand doesn’t resist when you come ease his jacket from his shoulders and throw it over the couch. “Anything.”

His hands run over the back of his neck, head slowly rolling and the tension in his body is unmistakable. He doesn’t even bother asking you to go grab your oils or salts; Rhysand’s hand waves and it’s all laid out on the table before you. His clothes disappear with a lazy blink and the way the High Lord’s body drapes across the couch in your room was utterly boyish, boxers tight around his thighs. “Please? I always get the best sleep after these.”

You hum in acknowledgement, grateful for his face pushed into the pillows to hide the blush that blooms at the sight of his body. It never got tiresome; the rippling muscles that contracted whenever he adjusted or the gravelly tone that set in when you finally got your hands on him. It begins as a fleeting touch, fingers just barely grazing the smooth skin between his shoulder blades and his body goes still. “Try to focus on your breathing,” It feels weird as you say it, giving the most powerful male in all of the Courts a demand but Rhysand is quick to comply. “Gonna try something a little different this time.”

You’re not even facing him and you can feel the smirk that pulls on full lips. “Is that so? Maybe I should lie on my back instead.”

“You know, Cass said the same thing when I did this for him last night.” Rhys goes quiet a moment, violet irises tracking your every move like hunters did their prey, taking in the gentle tease of the pale purple hem of your nightgown against your thighs, the cute tapping of your toes against the terra cotta rug as you pulled out a black box filled to the brim with smooth rocks that were warm to the touch.

“And did you take him up on his offer?”

There’s a shake in your voice when you answer, skin blooming with heat at the nature of the conversation but you busy your hands with the little glass jars of oil, its contents significantly depleted. “That’d be highly inappropriate. He’s my friend.”

Rhysand relaxes instantly, clearly pleased with your response but his eyes still watch you as you prepare. Dainty fingers dip into a tiny little jar and you’re swift in the way you swipe it under his nose, the soothing scent of lavender filling his nostrils each time he breathed and he couldn’t deny the way it aided in his relaxation. “You’ve never thought about it?”

“Rhys,” It comes out so quietly you barely hear it yourself, skin going warm and you’re quick to sit on the back of his thighs before he can see the affect his words have on you. “You don’t usually ask me questions like this.”

“I’ve had a long week, bunny. Reports and responsibilities; things you don’t have to worry your pretty head about.” You try to focus on the crackle of the fire instead of the casual compliment falling off the deep rumble of his low voice, throat bobbing when he lets out a little chuckle. “Indulge me.”

Heated oils drips on his spine, a deep sigh releasing when you finally put your hands on him. Slow, smooth motions; easing the stress away from the broad stretch of his shoulders to the muscular taper of his waist. “Was that an order, High Lord?”

“No.”

It takes a second for you to work up the nerve to answer and you’re grateful he doesn’t push; taking the time to ease into the feeling of your palms gliding over golden skin. “Yes, I’ve thought about it,” You finally confess, thumbs pressing firm circles near the spot where his wings would sit.

A groan pulls from deep inside the High Lords throat and you can’t tell if it’s from your fingers or the shy admission but you don’t ask; too fearful of the feeling beginning to form between your thighs and you’re quick to readjust your positioning, rising to your knees to avoid any more contact than necessary. He was too handsome—smelled too good and felt like heaven beneath your fingers that you didn’t trust yourself not to grind down on the thick thighs beneath you if he’d asked a thing more.

Mother above seems to laugh at you, winking from above when the Lord of Night leans into your touch, one eye prying open to look at you. “Tell me what you think about. Tell me who.”

“My Lord, I really think—“

“Come on, bunny. I’m just Rhys when we’re like this; just tell me.”

You swallow thickly, hands stuttering to a stop on his back. “You promise not to laugh at me?”

“I’d never.” The seriousness in his words is all you need to nod a little to yourself, one hand bracing at his waist to lean over and grab the warm rocks he’d summoned. They’re smooth to the touch; retaining their heat and once they touch his skin, he finds them to be far more soothing than initially anticipated. “Cross my heart.”

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, debating on if you were actually brave enough to do as he’d asked—not commanded. It felt like such trust; an opportunity to make him proud and you didn’t want to disappoint no matter how jittery it made you. “Sometimes, when I’m doing this,” You feel him adjust beneath you, head turning to the side and even though his eyes are closed you can still see that gentle furrow of concentration, waiting in anticipation. “—I think about letting my hands wander places I know they aren’t supposed to.”

He sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertip barely grazes under the waistband of his underwear and he’s acutely aware of the tremble of your knees on either side of his hips. He doesn’t want to say anything, violet eyes clamped shut as his mind wandered to just that, your soft hands coated in sweet oils wrapped around his cock, those shy eyes fluttering with wonder at the way he’d crumble to pieces for you.

A High Lord, completely at your mercy.

Rhys swallows thickly, voice so hoarse it’s impossible to miss the affects your words have on him and a confidence brews in your belly, words more sure when you proceed. “I think about what would happen the next time one of you jokingly asks me to strip down for my turn and I actually do it.” A smile works its way on your mouth when you see the way the High Lords brows crease, imagination running wild behind those lids.

“You think about doing that with all of us?”

Silence.

The gentle scrape of rocks against one another as you trail them up and down the sides of his spine, the oil slick and the warmth working out deep knots from the countless hours being hunched over his desk with a whiskey in hand and brain overloaded with information Rhys was no longer processing. “At the same time?”

The noise he lets out is positively sinful and you’re suddenly aware of his breathing beginning to quicken. “You can’t say things like that.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t understand.” But you did now, understood the underlying question behind his inquiry. “I sometimes think about it with Cass on nights he’s trained especially hard because he gets really vocal and sometimes those sounds are really hard to get out of my head.” Rhys hums in strained understanding, body relaxing but his hips keep shifting every now and then, fingers clamped tight around his biceps as he encourages you to continue. “Sometimes, I think about it with Az because when I’m doing an especially good job, he gets so relaxed that his shadows forget to obey and they start playing around in my clothes.”

Rhysand grunts but you take it as your hands doing good work, not the fact that he didn’t blame the slinking shadows; nearly subject to doing the task himself if you’d kept up.

“But you, High Lord,” It comes out breathless, hands stilling as if you couldn’t focus on touching and talking at the same time. “I think of you the most.” He physically shivers at the confession, fingers gripping so hard at his arms he’s sure he’s left marks but he tries to relax, forces himself to breathe and listen to the pure filth of such desires that hummed deep within your brain.

If only he could just slip past and look for himself—

“Especially that night with you in the tub,” You whimper, the noise sending filthy shocks of pleasure straight to his cock. The rocks clamber to the floor, his body twisting before you can comprehend his hands suddenly on your waist, violet eyes half lidded and so lust blown they’re nearly black. You can see the print of his arousal through the thin fabric of his underwear and you’re certain he’s clocked the way your tongue slides over your bottom lip. “Rhys.”

“Keep going, bunny.” His voice is wrecked, tone so low and commanding you don’t resist when strong hands ease you down on the thick bulge. He gives you time to deny it, to pull away and scramble off but it never happens.

“But—“

“You’re just helping, right? Helping your High Lord and this,” You follow his gaze to where both of you touch, the hardness of him pressed between your legs, the embarrassing wet patch that he’s surely felt seep through thin cotton. “I really fucking need this.”

The delicious drag of his hands guiding your hips over the rigid length of him, gaze eating up the way your lips part and your hands slip against his abdomen. "What about me in the tub, bunny? Tell me."

You don't understand how he expects such things from you when you can barely keep control over your body with such intense pleasure coursing through it. The friction of cock and cloth against your sensitive clit is enough to have your toes curling at the pressure, fingers digging perfect marks into your hips as you scramble through the brain fog long enough to remember how to form words and string together sentences. "Fuck," The slur doesn't even sound like you, eyes clamping shut and it takes great effort to remember what had been asked of you. "I've thought about it every night since; picturing what you looked like beneath all those bubbles."

"Was hard as a fucking rock the second you stomped to the door." He feels you clench around nothing, head falling back as you submitted to the pleasure and he genuinely has to hold back from finishing the second your hand slides up your own frame to grab at your breast. "Mother above."

He doesn't even have to guide your movements anymore, hips grinding into him with such hunger it makes the room darken; a deep, rumbling power filling the space and Rhysand actually moans when you don't shrink away from it. "Rhys, I'm—"

"Just a little more for me, yeah?" You catch yourself nodding along with him even when you don't believe you'll be able to fulfill his command. The burn in your stomach was near unbearable, mind stuck in a frenzy when warm hands bunch up the thin hem of your nightgown just enough to show off the wet drag of cloth on cloth. "So fuckin' pretty."

So eager to please, eyes glossy and half-lidded when you peer down at him, hands running over the defined muscles of his abdomen as your hips take on a pace that had the High Lord sucking breath through his teeth. "Thought about being the reason you made those noises. Wanted to use my hands," Your fingers drag over the strong planes of his chest, nails scratching just enough to leave a hint of a trail and your words carry a sultry drawl to them. "—my mouth too."

He's seconds away from release, skin on fire and hands eager in their exploration of your body over the silky material of your clothes. He trials up the length of your belly, fingers smoothening over the hard nipples poking through. The room smells of arousal, male musk and feminine desire twisting about the air so thick there'd be no way denying what had taken place if anyone had decided to walk in.

None of it matters though.

Not when you lean over, hands bracing on his chest and press a whisper of a kiss to his bottom lip.

The bruising grip on your hips leave only to pull your mouth back to his own, both of swallowing the others moans in and you can feel his cock twitch against you the moment your own release shudders through you. He doesn’t stop kissing you through it, hips slowing to a stop and you have to pull away simply to catch your breath before you pass out. “It’s your turn,” You huff out and you’re quick to smooth out the curious furrow of his brow. “To tell me what you’d been thinking about all those times?”

A feline smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I’d rather just show you.”