#have you ever met a calm husky

[jynxedshapeshifter]

BY THE WAY before I go to sleep, nobody asked but I decided when I draw them as furries, Klavier and Kristoph are huskies. I knew I wanted them to be canines because I really wanted to draw Klavier and Apollo's first meeting but furry Klavier’s tail is wagging (i very specifically want to animate this with Apollo's inner dialogue saying something like "His tail is wagging way too fast for a first meeting"). While I was thinking about this I was like "hmm. Klavier has husky vibes, and Kristoph as a husky would keep this opposites thing I want to do where Klavier’s behavior is expected of the animal he is while Kristoph's would catch someone off guard" so they're huskies.

[arabella0001]

i know its long but plspls give it a chance!!

Unspoken Tension / Quiet Obsession (Illumi Zooldyck x Reader)

Unspoken Tension / Quiet Obsession

Pairing; Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Anime: Hunter x Hunter

Synopsis:A woman with secrets, a man with control. Illumi Zoldyck finds her, and their silence lingers with something unspoken.

Warnings: slow burn, dark themes, rough sex, fingering, comfort in Illumi's way

You’ve always kept to the edges, moving through life unnoticed. You’ve had your share of battles—physical and otherwise—and learned early that blending in was as important as any skill. Your past is a blur, just fragments you’ve pieced together, like a puzzle you can’t quite finish. In the shadows, you thrive, and that’s enough for now.

There’s always been a quiet certainty that when the time comes, you'll be ready. You’re waiting for something, though you can’t say what—maybe a clue, or someone who knows more about you than you do. Tonight, it’s just another evening, another bar, another meet-up. But your instincts tell you something’s off.

The bar was shrouded in shadows, the faint flicker of a red neon sign casting eerie shapes on the cracked floor. You pushed through the heavy door, the creak of its hinges slicing through the muffled hum of conversation. The smoky air wrapped around you like a warning, but you ignored it, your heels clicking softly as you approached the bar.

Two men sat at the far end of the bar, framed by the flickering light. One of them lounged lazily, a grin stretched across his lips—Hisoka. Beside him, the other man sat perfectly still, an eerie contrast to Hisoka’s theatrics. Illumi who absentmindedly wrapped his hair around his finger while Hisoka teased him, clearly enjoying the moment.

Illumi’s needle hung from his robe as usual, while his other hand rested casually on his knee, ever ready to strike if necessary.

“Illumi, don’t be so dull. Where’s the fun in that?” Hisoka chuckled, looking amused.

“Be quiet, before I make you” Illumi replied, rolling his eyes in annoyance, still sipping his drink.

Hisoka’s gaze snapped to you almost instantly when he sense your nen, knowing exactly that you are Y/N,  his grin unfurling like a blade hidden in silk. He adjusted his suit jacket with deliberate flair, the faint gleam in his eyes hinting at both curiosity and danger.

‘Well, well, look what we have here,’ he purred, stepping toward you with unsettling grace.”

“A lovely lady, all alone and ripe for the picking.”

He extended his hand towards you, offering it with a gentlemanly air, though a glint of mischief danced in his eyes. Illumi remained seated, his gaze flicking between you and Hisoka, his needle twitching slightly, as though he were anticipating whatever might happen next.

You raised an eyebrow at Hisoka’s bold approach, your crimson lips curling into a smirk. A small part of you felt uncertain—there was something about this situation that didn’t sit right. “And just what do you think you're 'picking'?” you asked, your voice calm, but with an edge of challenge. Despite the unease creeping at the back of your mind, you accepted his hand.

Hisoka's grin widened at your firm handshake, a spark of amusement lighting up his eyes. “Oh, my dear, I’m not sure yet. But I have a feeling you’re going to make this evening very... interesting,” he said, leaning in a bit closer, his voice turning husky. “Care to join me and my friend for a drink? We can discuss the possibilities.”

Meanwhile, Illumi remained passive, watching the exchange with interest. His eyes flickered between you and Hisoka, seemingly impassive. His needle quivered faintly as though waiting for the right moment to strike. When your gaze met his, Illumi simply studied you with his trademark unreadable expression, the coolness of his stare sending a chill through the air.

Your eyes lingered on the Illumi’s needle, his cold presence making your pulse quicken. There was something unsettling about the stillness in his posture—it was like he was watching you with the precision of a predator. A chill ran down your spine, and despite the intrigue it sparked, you couldn’t deny the sense of danger radiating from him. Your heart beat a little faster, the unease creeping up on you, yet you couldn’t look away.

“You seem... interesting,” Hisoka said playfully, glancing over at Illumi with a mischievous glint. “Our friend here looks like he’s already sizing you up. No need to worry about him,” he added, with a wink.

You turned to Illumi, your gaze steady, though you felt a slight unease at his intense observation. The silence between you two was thick with unspoken tension. His presence was imposing, yet you couldn’t look away.

“Well now,” you said, breaking the silence. “A drink won’t hurt.”

You slid into the stool next to Illumi, crossing your legs and leaning back slightly, still feeling his piercing gaze on you.

Hisoka clapped his hands together clearly pleased with your response. “Excellent choice! Another round for us, bartender,” he called, signaling for more drinks.

Illumi remained silent, his posture relaxed but alert. He regarded you with the same intense focus, his gaze sharp, as if assessing you on some deeper level.

“So, tell me” Hisoka said, returning to his seat beside you after collecting the drinks. “What brings a stunning woman like yourself to a place like this? Looking for adventure, perhaps?” Hisoka’s question was light, but the underlying curiosity was clear.

You took a slow sip of your drink, never breaking eye contact with Illumi. His attention was making you feel uneasy, but you stayed composed. You couldn’t help but wonder: why was he playing with that needle? What was his deal?

After a moment, you turned to Hisoka, offering him a small, confident smile. “Just passing through, waiting for a friend,” you replied smoothly, your voice calm but with a hint of mystery. “What about you two?”

Hisoka chuckled, sipping from his own glass. “Just enjoying the finer things in life: good company, fine liquor,” he said, winking at you playfully. “Perhaps a little entertainment, if you’re in the mood.”

Illumi, on the otherhand, didn’t respond verbally. He simply tilted his head slightly, studying you with a gaze that felt as though he were trying to see through you. The needle twitched once more, drawing lazy circles in the air, as if testing the limits of the tension between you.

The silence stretched on, uncomfortable, until Illumi finally spoke. “Your friend had better hurry,” he said, his voice cold and flat. “This isn’t a safe place for someone like you to linger.”

His words were cryptic, but there was an edge to them, something that made your skin prickle.

You glanced at Illumi, your eyes narrowing. “Someone like me?” you asked, not sure if you were being threatened or warned. Hisoka, sensing the tension, stepped in to break the silence.

“Now, now, let’s not jump to conclusions,” he said with a soft chuckle, placing a calming hand on Illumi’s shoulder. “Our guest seems perfectly capable of handling yourself. Aren’t you, Y/N?”

Hisoka’s tone was light, but there was a subtle edge beneath the words, as though he, too, were aware of the growing competition for your attention.

You noticed the way Hisoka’s touch on Illumi’s shoulder seemed both friendly and possessive. It was clear they had some sort of complicated relationship, and you were caught in the middle of it. But what caught your attention, is that they know your name, but you decide not to speak about it.

You raised an eyebrow at Illumi’s comment, trying to keep your cool despite the unease settling in your chest. “I’m not sure I understand. Are you perhaps… threatening me?” you whispered, your voice steady, even though the tension in the room was making your heart race.

Illumi’s lips curved into a faint, mocking smile. “Threaten you? Oh, no. I'm merely offering... a warning.” he purred, his tone oozing with condescension. “Consider it a courtesy.”

Hisoka quickly intervened, his voice soothing. “Pay him no mind, Y/N. My friend there speaks in riddles sometimes. It’s just his way of showing interest.”

Despite Hisoka’s attempt to downplay the situation, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something more complicated was at play here.

You looked at Illumi’s mocking smile, the chill creeping up your spine at his tone. You turned back to Hisoka, trying to ease the tension. “I’m not sure I buy that,” you murmured to yourself, then smiled at Hisoka, attempting to lighten the mood. “But thanks for the intervention.”

Hisoka chuckled, clearly unfazed by the tension. “Ah, always so perceptive, aren’t you?” He raised his glass in a toast. “To new acquaintances and the intriguing games we play, hmm?”

The tension between the three of you remained thick in the air. Illumi leaned back in his seat, watching you intently, his needle still tracing lazy patterns in the air.

“So, what do you do for a living?” you asked, trying to shift the focus back to Hisoka. You could feel his eyes flickering over you, sensing your curiosity.

Hisoka grinned, clearly pleased by the question. “Oh, I dabble in many pursuits,” he said. “Collecting rare artifacts, attending underground fights, savoring exquisite cuisine...” He paused, letting the words hang in the air for dramatic effect. “And occasionally, I provide a... more exclusive form of entertainment for those who know how to appreciate certain... unique talents.”

His words were playful, but there was a sense of pride in them, as if he relished in his dangerous lifestyle.

As you turned to Illumi, you could feel the weight of his silent gaze. His presence was suffocating, and you sensed the layers of his mystery, but he didn’t respond.

“What about your friend?” you asked, your tone casual, but with a trace of challenge. The air between you two thickened.

Hisoka’s grin widened, but he avoided giving you a direct answer. “Illumi here is a man of many talents,” he said vaguely. “He has a... certain calling in life.”

Before you could ask more, Illumi stood up abruptly, the scraping of his chair on the floor making you tense.

“Enough idle chatter,” he said coldly. “If you’re done prattling, perhaps our host has something more stimulating in store for us.”

He turned and began to walk toward the exit, leaving an unsettling silence in his wake. You watched him leave, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. His mention of a "host" caught you off guard. Who was he talking about? The way he spoke suggested something far more serious than a casual meeting, but you couldn't place the connection yet.

“Well, that was certainly an interesting introduction,” you said to Hisoka, trying to shrug off the discomfort.

Hisoka chuckled, unbothered by Illumi’s abrupt exit. “Yes, Illumi can be a bit... intense,” he said. “But don’t worry, he means no harm... unless provoked.”

Hisoka leaned closer to you, his breath warm against your ear. “I find your reaction to him quite fascinating,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “You’re more than just a pretty face, aren’t you?”

You turned your gaze back to Hisoka, intrigued by his words, but still uncertain of where this night would lead.

“Well, I've faced worse than his eccentric personality,” you smile jokingly.

Hisoka’s grin widened, clearly amused by your bravery. “Is that so? I’d love to hear more about these ���worse’ encounters of yours. Perhaps over dinner, hmm?”

He signaled the bartender for another round of drinks. As they waited for their refreshments, Hisoka continued to regale you with outrageous tales of his adventures, each one more bizarre and captivating than the last.

Meanwhile, Illumi re-entered the bar, his expression as inscrutable as ever. He slid onto the stool next to you, his presence subtly overwhelming. Despite the physical space between you, you couldn’t escape the weight of his gaze, as if he were silently dissecting your every movement.

You glanced at him as he returned, going back to the host he’d mentioned earlier—but of course, you had no idea what he meant by that. There was something about the way he had said it, a certain expectation, as if his presence here was tied to more than just a casual meeting.

You noticed Hisoka’s quick, subtle gesture when Illumi sat down—a nearly imperceptible nod, as if confirming something without words. It didn’t escape your attention, but you couldn’t quite place its significance.

“Okay, I’m done,” you say calmly, though clearly irritated. “Do you have a problem?” you ask, looking at Illumi, bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

Illumi’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his expression unreadable. However, there was no sign of anger or aggression in his demeanor. Instead, he tilted his head and studied you with a curious, almost intrigued look.

“Problem?” he repeated in a low, measured voice. “Hardly. I simply find your... audacity rather intriguing. Most would have fled in terror at the sight of me, yet here you stand, unflinching.”

He leaned back in his stool, his posture relaxed, but his gaze never strayed from you. “Tell me, what drives someone like you to face danger so directly? Is it bravery, stupidity, or perhaps something else?”

The question lingered, heavy with a subtle menace. Illumi’s gaze pierced into you, as if trying to read something in you only you could answer. Hisoka observed the interaction, clearly fascinated, eager to see how you’d handle Illumi's probing.

You took a deep breath, trying to remain composed despite Illumi's unrelenting stare.

“It’s none of your business,” you respond firmly. “And... why should I be terrified of you?” you meet his gaze without flinching, even though your heart races slightly faster.

Illumi’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile at your defiance. “Brave words,” he murmured softly. “We’ll see how long they last.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your wrist in a fleeting, chilling touch. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of disgust and morbid fascination. “Perhaps I should demonstrate just how terrifying I can be,” he purred, his voice carrying a dark, unsettling promise.

Before you could react, Hisoka placed a hand lightly on Illumi's shoulder, his voice a smooth contrast to Illumi’s ominous tone. “Now, now, let’s not scare off our lovely guest just yet,” he chided, a playful edge in his words.

Turning to you, Hisoka flashed that signature, teasing grin. You quickly pull your arm away from Illumi’s touch, a sense of unease growing in your chest. Your heartbeat quickens, his aura undeniably dangerous, but there’s also something about him that draws you in. Still, the feeling of being unsettled and annoyed lingers.

“Thanks,” you say to Hisoka, giving him a brief but grateful look while keeping your attention fixed on Illumi. “But I think I’ll leave now.” You stand, meeting Illumi’s intense gaze one last time.

Hisoka rose to his feet with a sweeping bow. “A pleasure, Y/N. I do hope our paths cross again, though perhaps next time in less... tense circumstances.”

As you made your way to the door, Illumi remained seated, his gaze unwavering as he watched your every movement. “Until next time” he whispered, his voice carrying a dangerous promise.

Once you exited the bar, Hisoka whistled lowly. “Quite the spark between you two,” he said, his eyes flicking to Illumi. “I hope you can handle the flames to come.” Illumi remained silent, watching the door with a slight, unreadable tilt of his head. A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of something crossed his face—perhaps a mix of interest and calculation—but he didn’t comment. Hisoka smirked, sensing the night was far from over.

You stepped outside into the cool evening air, the wind brushing against your face. Your thoughts raced with everything that had happened—Illumi, Hisoka, the odd tension that hung in the air between the three of you. Something about them—about him—kept you intrigued, despite everything telling you to stay away.

The following days passed in a haze. Between training your Nen and trying to keep your mind focused, the encounter with Illumi and Hisoka lingered at the back of your thoughts. You went through your routines, honing your skills in the solitude of your own space, but a nagging thought kept surfacing: Could this strange connection with them somehow serve your ultimate goal?

Your instincts told you to stay cautious, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something much larger.

That night, just as you were about to slip into restless sleep, a knock at your door shattered the silence. Your heart raced, pulse quickening with anticipation. Hesitant, you approached the door, peeking through the peephole. A shadow loomed outside.

"Illumi?" you whisper, barely above a breath.The knocking continues, more insistent this time.

You hesitate, every instinct telling you to stay safe. Yet, curiosity overwhelms you. Slowly, you open the door just a crack.When you see Illumi standing there, you freeze for a moment, unsure what to do. Part of you wants to slam the door shut, but the other part... is intrigued.

"How do you know where I live?" you ask, your voice a little more uncertain than you'd like to admit. "What are you doing here?" You keep your gaze locked on him, your body on alert.

Illumi steps inside without waiting for an invitation, closing the door softly behind him. In the dim light, his presence feels almost suffocating—like a predator watching its prey.

"You shouldn't be surprised," he murmurs smoothly, his voice like silk. "In our world, secrets aren't hard to uncover. Especially when someone as... captivating as you is involved."

He steps closer, his proximity sending a ripple of heat through your body. The danger in his every move is undeniable.

"I came to extend an invitation," he says, his voice low, mesmerizing. "Tomorrow night. A private gathering. It will be... an experience you won't forget."

You swallow, trying to hold your ground as his gaze locks onto yours. His presence, so close, sends an electric current running through your skin, leaving you with a chilling sense of unease—and, for some reason, something else.

"I don't think so," you respond, trying to keep your composure. "I don't trust you yet to accept an invitation from someone like you."

Illumi’s lips twitch into a small, calculating smile as he watches you. His gaze is cold, yet there’s something predatory in it. "That’s precisely why you should consider it," he says, his voice low and steady. He reaches forward, his fingers grazing the side of your face with eerie precision, his touch cold yet deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine.

"We’re not used to being dismissed," he continues, his voice unwavering and cold, yet there’s an underlying intensity. "Especially by someone with potential. Consider it a test—a way to prove you’re worth our attention. A challenge, if you will."

He leans in slightly, his breath cold against your ear. "If you prove yourself, the rewards may outweigh the risk," he says, his voice steady but carrying an unsettling weight. He pulls back, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before he turns to leave. "Until tomorrow night. Don’t take too long."

You watch him leave, your heart still pounding in your chest, the intensity of his presence lingering in the air. You hate that your body responded the way it did. Part of you feels intimidated, but there's also an undeniable temptation, a pull you can't seem to shake.

The next day, you're pacing your apartment, anxiety gnawing at you. The offer, the invitation, the mystery—it's all too much to ignore. Despite your better judgment, you're drawn to the dangerous allure of Illumi and Hisoka. By the time the sun sets, you've made up your mind.

You arrive at the mansion on the outskirts of town. The eerie quiet of the place sends a chill down your spine, but your curiosity pushes you forward. Inside, you spot Illumi waiting for you, his piercing gaze immediately locking onto yours.

"Well, well," he drawls, his voice like velvet. "Look who decided to join us. I must say, I'm impressed."

You stand tall, despite the nervous flutter in your stomach, meeting his gaze with a steely resolve. "Impressed by what exactly?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "I must admit, I find your... choices somewhat intriguing." You don’t dare voice your true thoughts, though a part of you feels the pull of his presence.

Illumi chuckles softly, a sound that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. "Oh, my dear," he purrs, his eyes dark with quiet amusement as he circles around you, "it’s not just my... choices that draw you in, is it?" His voice is smooth, dangerous, a predator’s calm before the hunt. "It’s the power I carry, the silent threat, the allure of what lies beneath the surface."

He steps even closer, so close you can feel the heat of his presence. Stopping behind you, he leans in, his breath grazing your ear. "But don’t worry," he murmurs, his fingers cold as they gently cup your chin, turning your head to face him. "I won’t hold it against you. In fact, I find your boldness... rather intriguing."

With a deliberate motion, he guides your chin to face him fully. His cold fingers send a shiver through you, contrasting with the warmth of his breath against your skin. "Shall we proceed?" he asks, his voice low, commanding, almost hypnotic.

You try to hold your ground, though it’s hard not to react to his proximity, to the way he takes control of the space between you. "Let’s get this over with," you say, your voice betraying a hint of unease, though you strive to sound unaffected. "Lead the way."

Illumi's grip tightens slightly, a silent reminder not to challenge him further. "As you wish," he responds, releasing your chin with a fluid motion before stepping back.

He leads you down the mansion’s corridors, each step echoing through the vast, silent halls. When you reach a heavy door, guarded by silent figures, Illumi unlocks it with a key, revealing the eerie blue light spilling from within.

"Welcome to our little sanctuary," Illumi announces. "Inside awaits an experience beyond your wildest imagination."

You step inside hesitantly, immediately feeling the weight of the atmosphere. The air is thick, pulsing with an almost tangible energy, and the blue light casts an ethereal glow over everything.

"What is this place?" you ask, your voice tight with uncertainty. "And who else is here?" You glance around, sensing eyes on you from the shadows, though you can’t make anyone out.

Illumi senses your unease and speaks with a calm, almost possessive tone. "This is a sanctum for those who appreciate the finer things in life," he explains, guiding you deeper into the room. "The company is... eclectic. But don’t worry, they mean no harm... for now."

He looks at you, his gaze unreadable. "As for the others, let's just say you've caught the attention of some very... interesting individuals." He places a hand on the small of your back, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "We’ve been discussing the possibility of adding you to our little family."

Your breath catches. "Family?" you repeat, your voice wavering slightly. "I don’t even know what you do. I’m not sure I’m interested in joining your... family."

You glance around again, noticing how the shadows seem to shift, as if alive, watching you.

Illumi’s grip on your back tightens, his voice low and cold. "Oh, you’re already a part of it, whether you like it or not," he says, his tone calm yet firm. "Once you've crossed paths with us, there’s no turning back."

He leads you to a raised dais at the center of the room, motioning for you to sit. "Sit," he commands. "Now."

You obey, though the feeling in the room only grows heavier, more oppressive.

From the shadows, Hisoka emerges, a wicked grin on his face as he looks you over. "Well, well, look at our little bird perched so prettily," he says, his voice dripping with dark amusement. His gaze shifts to Illumi. "She looks like she belongs here, don't you think?"

You feel a shiver of dread as Hisoka's gaze locks onto you, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Part of you feels threatened, yet the way Illumi stands near you, his eyes fixed on Hisoka with a certain quiet possessiveness, makes you feel... somewhat protected.

Hisoka steps closer, his grin widening. "In a world full of mediocrity, we seek out the extraordinary," he says with a mocking tone. "And you, my dear, are a rare gem indeed."

Before you can respond, Illumi places a hand on Hisoka’s shoulder, signaling for him to stop. "Enough games," he says quietly, but with an edge to his voice. He turns back to you, his demeanor shifting to something more serious, yet still oddly intimate. "We’re not merely what people assume us to be. We are... curators of chaos, seekers of the sublime."

You listen to his words carefully, still trying to wrap your mind around everything. You're intrigued, but more than a little scared. There's so much you don't understand.

"So, what is it you want from me?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper. "What is your game? What are you, assassins?" You joke, but oh dear, their gaze tells you everything, and you freeze, realizing the truth of their job.

Illumi’s smile grew, a thin, calculating line that didn’t reach his eyes. "Assassins, mercenaries, enforcers—labels are irrelevant when you're dealing with the best of the best," he said, his voice a low purr. "We’re not concerned with ownership; we’re more interested in partnership."

Hisoka snorted, his grin widening. "Partnership implies equality, sweetheart, and you're nowhere near our level. But don’t worry, we’ll bring you up to speed."

Illumi placed a hand on your knee, his touch surprisingly gentle considering the deadly nature of their profession. "Think of it this way—you'll be part of an elite circle, operating on the fringes of society. No ordinary life for you anymore, my dear. Just the thrill of the unknown, the rush of adrenaline in the face of danger..."

Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize they are indeed assassins, and it troubles you more than you intended. You feel in danger here—there’s no way out. The mansion is full of people waiting for you to join their group, but... why?

As you overthink, staring at them intently, you suddenly realize something that terrifies you. You've heard of an assassin family—the Zoldycks—and you can't help but ask, a tremor running through you.

"Illumi... what's your full name?" You look at him, hoping for honesty, feeling tense and drawn to this dangerous man, almost seeking his comfort despite the fear bubbling inside you.

Illumi’s smile widened, a devilish glint in his eyes. "Ah, you've done your research," he purred, leaning in closer to you. "My full name is Illumi Zoldyck."

He watched your reaction intently, savoring the shock on your face. "Yes, I come from a long lineage of assassins," he continued, his voice low and hypnotic. I’m the shadow that moves unseen, the force that shapes outcomes without lifting a finger. I’m a master of control, an architect of fate—everything I touch bends to my will."

Hisoka chuckled darkly, interjecting, "And a total psycho, if you ask me." Illumi shot him a withering glare, but then focused back on you.

"But enough about us," Illumi said, his tone shifting to a more intimate cadence.

Your eyes widen at the revelation, a chill running down your spine. You knew about the Zoldycks, but never thought you would meet one, especially not one so close to you right now.

"A Zoldyck..." You mutter under your breath, trying to process the new information. You look at him, feeling a mix of fear and fascination as you’re drawn to him. "Why do you need me to be part of... your group?"

Illumi doesn't answer directly about your role in the organization, but he can’t help but feel drawn to you in a way his family wouldn't approve of. Though cold and calculating on the surface, there's something different when it comes to you. He won’t show this weakness, of course.

Illumi leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he regarded you with an unreadable expression. " Let’s just say... you’ll fit nicely into the framework we’re building. There’s always a place for the right person."," he replied cryptically.

Hisoka, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist inserting himself into the conversation. "Yeah, she's got the spark, the fire in your belly. We could mold your into something truly exceptional."

Illumi’s gaze flicked to Hisoka, a warning glint in his eye before returning to you. "Of course, it’s not just about our needs. We believe you have potential—a latent talent waiting to be unleashed."

Hisoka paused, studying your reactions closely. "So, what do you say, my dear? Are you ready to embrace your destiny and become part of our little family?"

You swallow, feeling like a pawn in a game you don't fully understand. The allure of power, of being part of something bigger than yourself, is undeniable.

 "I... I’ll think about it," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, torn between fear and curiosity. You can't tear your eyes away from Illumi.

Hisoka, ever the provocateur, couldn’t resist inserting himself into the conversation. "Oh, my, you're torn between fear and curiosity? How delicious! I can't wait to see what you’ll choose... or maybe I just want to watch you squirm."

Illumi’s gaze flicked to Hisoka, a warning glint flashing briefly in his eyes before returning to you. There was an undeniable intensity in the way he looked at you, like he was considering you, weighing you, perhaps even contemplating something more. "Of course, it’s not just about our needs. We believe you have potential—a latent talent waiting to be unleashed."

Illumi rose from his seat, towering over you, his eyes boring into yours. "I’ll give you time until tomorrow night."

Afterward, you head home, your mind consumed by everything that happened. As you think, your thoughts drift to Illumi.

As you departed, Hisoka called after you, his voice echoing through the mansion's grand halls. "Don’t take too long, darling! We’re eager to see what you'll become!"

Illumi, meanwhile, remained standing, his piercing gaze following you until you disappeared from view. Once alone, he allowed himself a fleeting moment of introspection, his thoughts drifting to the enigmatic woman he had encountered.

Despite his usual composure, there was an unfamiliar warmth simmering within him, a sensation he couldn’t quite define. Illumi pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the task at hand—molding you into the perfect asset for their organization.

The next evening, as planned, Illumi awaited your arrival, his demeanor as cool and collected as ever.

You arrive at the mansion, nervous and troubled by the decision you just made. As you step inside, you see Illumi standing there, looking calm and collected as always. Your heartbeat quickens.

Illumi greeted you with a nod, his eyes assessing your appearance and demeanor. "You've decided, then?" he asked matter-of-factly, his voice devoid of emotion. "Come, let's discuss the details of your new role."

Without awaiting a response, Illumi turned abruptly, his movements deliberate and fluid as he led you deeper into the mansion. His steps echoed in the silent corridors, and you couldn't help but feel the weight of his presence, like he was drawing you into a world you weren't sure you were ready for. The maze of corridors felt endless, each turn more isolating than the last.

"I assume you have some experience with combat, " Illumi said, his voice low, almost assessing. His gaze lingered on you for a moment too long, a subtle but deliberate scrutiny. "We'll start with a physical test. I want to see what you're capable of. "

As Illumi finished speaking, the door creaked open behind you, and Hisoka leaned in casually, his grin widening as he sized you up. 'Well, well,' he purred, 'Let’s see if our recruit lives up to the Zoldyck legacy. "

Following Illumi, your pulse quickens, a mix of nervousness and something else, something unfamiliar. The door to the training room swings open, and the cold gleam of weapons lining the walls hits you like a slap. This was no ordinary training facility—it was a shrine to death, and you were about to become a part of it.

I... yes, I have some combat experience,' you reply, trying to sound confident, but your voice betrays a hint of uncertainty. His gaze, slow and deliberate, traces over you—making you feel both exposed and oddly... seen. You force yourself to stand tall, though your heart races under the weight of his scrutiny.

You notice Hisoka observing you with keen interest, his grin widening as he watches your interaction with Illumi.

With a deep breath, you brace yourself, feeling Illumi’s eyes still on you, studying, calculating. His nod is almost imperceptible, yet his gaze remains sharp and intense, like a predator’s. 'Let’s start with something simple—agility, reflexes. Show me what you can do.' His words, though neutral, hang heavy in the air, a silent challenge."

He pointed to the obstacles ahead—hurdles, balance beams, pendulums swinging with mechanical precision. 'Your task is simple,' Illumi said, his voice calm but firm, 'Cross without making a mistake. Only the ground should feel your weight. Understood?'"

Before you could respond, Hisoka chimed in, "And remember, sweetie, speed and precision are key! Show us what you're made of!"

Illumi glanced at Hisoka, his expression a sharp mix of annoyance and something else—something colder. But he didn’t waste words. His gaze snapped back to you, every ounce of his attention now fixed on your every move. "On my count," he instructed, raising his hand. "Three... two... one..."

You nod, taking a moment to observe the obstacles before you. Your mind races with strategies and tactics, trying to decide the best approach.

As Illumi starts counting down, you spring into action, moving swiftly across the floor. You leap over the hurdles, balancing carefully on the narrow beams, and dodging the swinging pendulums with quick reflexes.

Halfway through, you feel a surge of adrenaline, pushing you to move even faster. With a final leap, you land safely on the ground, panting lightly.

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you look up at Illumi and Hisoka waiting.

Illumi watched your performance with a critical eye, noting your speed, agility, and overall technique. When you finished, he gave a slight nod of approval. "Not bad. You managed to complete the course without major errors."

Hisoka, on the otherhand, was practically bouncing with excitement, clapping his hands togetyour gleefully. "Bravo, bravo! What a delightful display of athleticism! I must say, I'm thoroughly impressed."

Illumi raised an eyebrow at his friend's exuberance but turned his attention back to you. "Next, we'll assess your marksmanship skills. Follow me."

Without a word, Illumi turned, leading you to a shooting range tucked in a quiet corner of the room. The stark silence of the space was almost oppressive, broken only by the faint sound of your breath. 'Prove your worth,' he said coldly, 'Handguns, rifles, knives. Show me what you can do.

You follow Illumi to the shooting range, feeling a mix of confidence and trepidation. You’ve handled guns before, but not in a formal setting like this. Nodding, you select a handgun first. Illumi helps you check the weight and grip before you aim at the target, his touch on your hand making you unfocused for a second. Taking a deep breath, you squeeze the trigger, hitting the center of the bullseye. Next, you move on to the rifle, your aim steady and true as you fire off round after round, each bullet finding its mark except one. Finally, you pick up a knife, flipping it expertly between your fingers before demonstrating your throwing skills. The blade embeds itself in the wood of the target.

Illumi observed your performance with a calculating gaze, his expression unreadable. When you completed the tests, he stepped closer, inspecting the target results.

"Decent accuracy with the handgun and rifle," he remarked, "but room for improvement. That stray shot could’ve been fatal in a real-world scenario."

Hisoka, however, seemed entirely unbothered by the minor flaw. "Pfft, a single miss? Hardly a concern, darling! With practice, you’ll be hitting your marks every time."

Turning to you, Illumi continued, "Your knife work is satisfactory, though perhaps a bit flashy for our purposes. We prefer subtlety and efficiency in our assassins."

He paused, studying you intently. "Overall, you demonstrate potential, but you still lack the polish and discipline required for our organization."

You listen to Illumi's critique, a small part of you stung by the criticism, but you push that aside, focusing on his words of guidance instead.

"Okay." You nodded. His cold, enigmatic demeanor makes you so aware of your surroundings.

Illumi's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded curtly. "Very well. We'll continue your training tomorrow. For now, rest and prepare yourself mentally for the challenges ahead."

With that, he turned and wanting to leave, leaving you alone with Hisoka. The latter grinned at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don’t worry about old Illi’s harsh words, sweetheart. He’s just trying to whip you into shape."

Hisoka sauntered closer, his presence overwhelming in its intensity. "I, on the otherhand, think you’re perfect just the way you are. Though I do hope you’ll indulge me in a few... extracurricular activities tonight."

He leaned in, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "I have a feeling you’d look stunning drenched in blood."

With that, Illumi shot Hisoka a glare, making him leave. Hisoka already knows that his friend Illumi is interested in you, but he doesn’t say it directly. Illumi doesn’t understand why he’s drawn to you—the cold, calculating, and emotionless man on the surface. He can’t help but make you squirm and tease you in his own way, but he mostly focuses on the mission ahead.

Illumi’s glare held a clear warning, and Hisoka knew better than to push furtyour. With a playful smirk, he bowed mockingly before turning on his heel and departing, leaving you alone once more with the enigmatic assassin leader.

Illumi returned his attention to you, his expression unreadable. "Tomorrow, we will focus on strategic thinking and adaptability. Be prepared to face unpredictable scenarios."

Without another word, he dismissed you, his actions as abrupt as they were efficient. As you exited the training room, you couldn't shake the sensation that Illumi's interest in you went beyond mere professionalism—but the cryptic nature of their interactions left you unsure how to interpret his intentions.

Later that night, Illumi entered your quarters without awaiting an invitation, his usual composed façade slipping for the briefest moment as he took in your appearance. The fleeting flash of desire in his eyes earlier seemed to intensify in this intimate setting, and despite his attempts to suppress it, he couldn’t ignore the pull.

"I trust you're resting adequately," he stated, his voice low and measured. "Tomorrow, we'll be engaging in close-quarters combat drills. Your agility serves you well, but you must learn to harness your strength more effectively."

As he spoke, Illumi’s gaze roamed over your form, lingering just a moment longer than necessary, his eyes tracing the curves of your body beneath your attire. The air between you thickened, heavy with an unspoken tension. It was a strange feeling, as though his usually tight control was slipping—something more primal simmered beneath the surface.

"Remember," his voice trailed off, his eyes still lingering on you as he tried to steady his breath. You can practically feel the heat radiating from his body as he stands closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space.

You swallow, trying to maintain composure under his intense gaze. His voice is cold and calculated, but you can’t ignore the thrill that runs through you at the sound of it. You nod, acknowledging his instructions about the upcoming training session.

The air between you both feels electric, charged with something neityour of you can fully control. As Illumi draws closer, his proximity seems to suffocate you, making it harder to breathe. Your senses heighten as he stands just a little too close, a small distance remaining between you—but not enough to ignore the intensity of his presence.

Illumi’s internal struggle was evident. His disciplined assassin’s mind was still sharp, but it was no match for the growing pull of his desires. He had been raised to control everything, to compartmentalize every part of himself—sexuality included. Yet, for some reason, you seemed to be different. This thought frustrated him; he couldn’t allow such feelings to complicate matters. But even as he thought this, his body betrayed him.

Illumi’s gaze darkened as his fingers tightened at his sides. He clenched his jaw, struggling to maintain control.

"Illumi...?" You look at him, hating yourself for the way your body seems to lean toward him. His presence is consuming, and despite your attempts to fight it, you find yourself wanting him closer.

Illumi’s resolve cracked under the weight of his desires, his stoic mask slipping away. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he closed the space between you, his hands reaching out to pull you flush against his hardened body. His touch was rough, possessive.

"You should not intrigue me so," he hissed, his breath hot against your ear. "It complicates things unnecessarily."

But despite his words, his hands remained on you, his fingers pressing possessively into your waist, his body hard against yours. The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable, an animalistic hunger he could no longer suppress.

Your breath caught in your throat as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you tightly against his muscular frame. The danger he embodies is palpable, but it only draws you closer, your body betraying your better judgment. You can feel the pulse of his heartbeat, the heat radiating from him, and yet, you can’t pull away.

His words, laced with frustration and desire, hung heavy in the air. You can sense the internal battle he’s fighting, the need to keep control clashing with something far more primal. You can practically feel the tension between you, the undeniable pull that neityour of you wants to acknowledge.

"I could say the same thing," you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet the words seem to carry a weight of their own.

Illumi’s grip tightened on you, his thumbs brushing along the sensitive skin of your lower back as he ground his body against yours. "Then perhaps we should indulge in these... complications," he purred, his voice dripping with dark promise.

With swift, practiced movements, he spun you around, pinning you against the wall. His lips crashed onto yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, claiming you with a ferocity that left you breathless. His hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve, every inch of you as though he couldn’t get enough.

The intensity of his passion overwhelmed you, leaving you gasping for air. You clung to him, returning his kiss with equal desperation, lost in the whirlwind of sensations, pleasure, and danger that only he could provide.

You gasp as Illumi’s kiss deepens, his dominance taking over as he pulls you closer, his movements quick and forceful. The danger and excitement mix within you, the fear of what might happen next blending with a yearning you can’t deny.

His skilled tongue dances with yours, igniting a fire within you that spreads throughout your entire being, you moan softly into the kiss, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations. Ilumi's hands explore your body with a hunger that mirrors your own, leaving trails of tingling pleasure in their wake, you arch into his touch, craving more of his intoxicating caresses.

Illumi's lips left yours, trailing scorching kisses along your jawline and down the column of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin as he nipped and sucked at the tender flesh.

One hand slid beneath your shirt, palming the soft mound of your breast as he continued his assault on your senses. His thumb flicked over your nipple, coaxing it to peak before pinching gently, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

"We shouldn't rush this," Illumi breathed, his hot exhalation fanning across your damp skin. "But I fear my restraint is wearing thin." His fingers deftly unfastened your pants, sliding inside to stroke the slick heat of your core. "Tell me to stop, if you dare."

You barely register the sound of your pants being undone until his fingers slip inside, stroking your already drenched folds, making your knees buckle slightly, you can believe this the composed assassin Illumi you know, but you can’t help but feel aroused by him/

Illumi's fingers delved deeper, curling inside you to stroke your inner walls with a practiced ease that belied his typically reserved nature, his voice a low rumble filled with dark satisfaction. "Your body knows exactly what it craves, doesn't it?"

As he spoke, he added a second finger, stretching and filling your with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The wet sounds of their intimacy mingled with your ragged breathing, creating a lewd symphony that only served to fuel Illumi's desire. Though Illumi was never one for excessive words, but in this moment, he can’t help, his voice brough

"You should see yourself now," he whispered, his eyes locked onto yours as he worked your tighter. "So compliant, so eager for more. It's almost...beautiful." With a sudden twist of his wrist, he found that secret spot deep within your, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

You cry out, unable to contain the intense pleasure, your back arches. The way he is so talkative, speaks so confident, so hynoptic, sends a thrill through you, even as a part of you wonders how he can be so bold, so unashamed of his desires.

“Illumi…” you gasp as you grind further on you his hand.

"Yes?" Illumi purred, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace as he sought to unravel you completely. "What is it you desire, little assassin? Speak, and I might grant your request."

He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Perhaps you’d prefer to break under my control, against the wall, with nothing but the sound of how you crumble to my mercy?" You gasp at his filthy words, your eyes widen of this part of him, almost possessive.

Illumi's free hand slid up your side, his palm sizzling against your overheated skin as he cupped your breast, kneading the soft flesh roughly. "Or maybe you yearn for something more...depraved?" His thumb circled your nipple, tugging it into a tight peak that sent jolts of electricity straight to your clit.

Your breath hitches as Illumi’s words paint vivid images in your mind, each one more tantalizing than the last, his touch is addicitive, possesive, every caress igniting a fresh wave of desire within you, making you tremble.

Illumi's fingers picked up speed, plunging in and out of your quivering channel with a ruthless precision that bordered on violent, he groaned "I wonder how many times I could make you cum before you collapse from exhaustion."

He grind on your behind, bitting down on your shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark, as his other hand slipped beneath your shirt once more. His nails scraped across your ribs, leaving red welts in their wake, before he reached your breasts. Rough palms squeezed and kneaded the supple mounds, tweaking your nipples into stiff peaks that throbbed in time with the pounding of your heart.

"Illumi, please... "you manage to gasp out, your voice barely above a whimper.

"Yes, what?" Illumi demanded, his tone sharp with impatience. "Speak clear, Y/N"

His fingers curled inside your, rubbing that sweet spot with a maddening persistence. "Do you want me to fuck you harder? Deeper? Make you scream my name until your throat is raw?"

His fingers plunge deeper, faster, the brutal rhythm threatening to consume you whole. you can feel the coil of tension building within, making you close to your climax.

You start screaming, feeling how your orgasm wash over you and with a swift movement, not letting you relax, he spun you around making you gasp, pressing your back against the cold metal of the wall, the rough surface provides a stark contrast to the heated, intimate contact of his body pressed against yours as you gasp. One hand gripped your hip, holding your steady as the other fumbled with his belt, freeing his throbbing erection.

"I’ve decided I’m going to take what I want. Now," his tone sharp, positioning himself at your entrance.

His words are filthy, depraved, and they only serve to stoke the flames of your arousal higher, you can feel his hardness prodding at your entrance, a thick, pulsating promise of the pleasure to come.

“Yes, Illumi, fuck…please“ you admit breathlessly, your resolve crumbling under his touch and words.

With a feral snarl, Illumi surged forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. You cried out, your back arching as you felt him stretch your open, the sensation bordering on pain but suffused with overwhelming pleasure.

“So willing” Illumi hissed, his hips snapping against yours in a relentless rhythm. "This is what you needed, isn't it? I want to hear you admit it.”

“Yes…” You nodd desperately, feeling so intense and trembeling.

“Good. “" He leaned in close, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, his hot breath mingling with yours. "And I'm going to give it to you over and over again, until you're begging for mercy."

A strangled moan escapes your lips as Ilumi fills you completely, the feeling of being so thoroughly claimed sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your entire being.

Each forceful thrust drives you closer to the edge, the friction of his hard length against your sensitive inner walls pushing you towards a precipice from which there's no return.

“yes.. Iillumi please, “you pant out, your voice a broken, pleading thing as you lose yourself in the relentless pace of his hips.

"Please what,Y/N?" Illumi taunted, his start gripping your throat slightly, moving your head towards him, as he drove into your with renewed vigor. "Tell me what you need, what filthy things you want me to do to you."

He captured your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as his tongue dominated yours. At the same time, his fingers found your clit, pinching and rolling the sensitive bud with merciless precision.

"Come," he commanded, breaking the kiss to nip at your jawline.  As if in response to his words, your orgasm crashed over your like a tidal wave, ripping your apart and rebuilding your anew in its aftermath. You screamed his name, your voice echoing off the walls as your pussy clamped down on his shaf.

Your mind goes blank as the intense waves of pleasure wash over you, Ilumi's relentless stimulation pushing you past the point of no return.

Your screams mingle with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, the obscene squelch of your arousal coating his cock as he continues to pound into you even as you come undone.

Ilumi's command hangs in the air, a dark challenge that only serves to heighten your awareness  of his own impending climax, you can feel him twitching inside you, his grip on your hips becoming almost painful as he struggles to hold back and you push into him more so you can help him.

With a guttural roar, Illumi buried himself to the hilt one final time, his cock pulsing as he unleashed a torrent of hot seed deep within your spasming depths. Each powerful spurt seemed to go on forever, painting your insides with his essence until you are filled to bursting.

As the aftershocks of your shared climax subsided, Illumi slowly withdrew, his softening member slipping free of your abused hole with a wet pop. A trail of cum dripped down your thigh, a visible testament to the thorough breeding you just received.

"Well, that was satisfying," Illumi murmured, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he admired his handiwork.

His sharp eyes studied you for a moment, his stance unwavering. "You’re in no condition to keep standing like this."

Before you could spleak, he moved swiftly, placing a firm hand at your back to guide you toward the bed. His touch, though not gentle, was steady and unyielding. "Lie down," he commanded, his voice a low murmur.

You feel utterly exhausted, your body spent, yet vulnerable—vulnerable in a way you never thought you would be with a Zoldyck. The fear lingers that it was just a fleeting, intimate moment for him, and you long for the comfort of aftercare. You're conflicted, unable to predict his next reaction, fully aware of his cold, enigmatic, and stoic nature.

You look at him, unable to control the vulnerability in your expression. You can’t help but wonder, despite his personality and history, if you’ve become important to him—though it doesn't show on the surface.

Illumi’s gaze softened, if only for a heartbeat, as he took in your vulnerable expression. It was the briefest of cracks in his otyourwise impenetrable facade—a fleeting flicker of something raw, something human beneath his usual cold exterior.

Without a word, his fingers brushed over the marks on your neck, a touch so delicate it almost felt alien—so different from the relentless passion they had just shared. The contact was soft, almost tentative, sending a shiver through you, who couldn’t help but feel the weight of this quiet intimacy.

But just as quickly as it had appeared, the tenderness faded, replaced once more by his usual aloofness. "Get dressed," he said sharply, his voice regaining its customary chill. With his usual precision, he began to gatyour his discarded clothes, a stoic figure once more. "We have matters to attend to."

Your heart skips a beat at the brief, unexpected softness in his eyes—a connection so fleeting, so fragile, that it leaves you aching for more. But the moment evaporates as swiftly as it came, and you’re left questioning if it was ever truly there or just a brief illusion, a crack in the facade that closed too soon.

Can… you stay a little longer? you ask, a quiet uncertainty in your voice, hesitant of how he’ll respond.

Illumi freezes for a moment at your request, his assassin’s discipline momentarily faltering. The connection between you is something unfamiliar, something he hasn’t had to process before. His mind is caught between his hardened, emotionally detached instincts and the surprising intensity of the bond you're offering.

Illumi paused, his hand hovering just above his shirt as he considered your words. The room grew heavy with the tension of his contemplation. Finally, without a word, he sat down on the bed, his posture rigid, but not dismissive. He was clearly weighing something—something beyond his control.

"You want me to stay," he said flatly, his voice cold but with a slight edge of curiosity. His eyes never left yours. "Is that because you enjoyed our...interlude? Or is it something else entirely?"

There was a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze, a brief crack in his impassive exterior that he quickly masked. It was evident that You’s unexpected emotional intimacy had caught him off guard, forcing him to confront feelings and desires that he had never fully acknowledged before.

Your heart races as you watch Illumi sit, his presence overwhelming, as always, but now more than ever, it pulls you in despite the tension between you. His words cut through you, making your emotions feel more tangled, and you realize just how much you’ve invested in this moment—how much you’ve allowed yourself to feel.

"Yes... and no, " you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper, stepping closer, but still unsure.

You reach out, pausing, as if to test the waters, before carefully placing your hand on his knee. A quiet hope stirs within you—that this small touch, this tentative gesture, might offer the reassurance both of you are craving.

Illumi’s muscles stiffen at your touch, a sharp breath escaping his lips as your fingers make contact. For a long moment, he doesn’t move, just staring at where your hand rests on his knee, as though trying to process the strange new feelings this simple connection stirs within him.

Slowly, cautiously, he places his hand over yours. His touch is deliberate, firm, and warm, but there’s a hesitation in it—a carefulness that reflects how much he’s struggling with the emotions that you’ve brought to the surface. "I see," he says quietly, his voice low, but there’s a shift in it. "In that case, I suppose I can spare a few more minutes."

Illumi stands, his hand hovering briefly before he reaches for you. When he pulls you into his arms, the gesture is stiff, almost as if he’s testing how to navigate this unfamiliar territory. His arms wrap around you, but the embrace feels tentative, as though he’s still unsure of what to do with the warmth he’s suddenly feeling.

In the stillness of that moment, Illumi’s heart races in his chest, the thundering beat a stark contrast to the icy calm he’s always projected, betraying the chaos he’s desperately trying to suppress.

As Illumi pulls you into his arms, a sense of calm washes over you. His warmth is solid and grounding, a stark contrast to the heat and chaos of your previous encounter. You rest your head against his shoulder, savoring the closeness—the simple, quiet connection that feels like it might be more than just physical.

Though your emotions swirl within you, you keep them in check, not wanting to overwhelm him. Instead, you focus on the steady rise and fall of his chest, the soothing sound of his heartbeat that seems to anchor you both in this rare moment of peace.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your own heart.

Illumi’s arms tightened around you, holding you tight. The soft pressure of his body against yours was a sensation he hadn’t known before, and it both unsettled and captivated him.

"For what, exactly?" Illumi asks, his voice cool, but with a subtle hint of curiosity. "I'm not used to such gestures. Explain to me, why do you feel the need for this?"

But even as he spoke, Illumi didn’t pull away. Instead, his body stiffened for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing your temple in a brief, but telling gesture. It was a small act, a flicker of something he rarely allowed himself to show—soft, but unmistakably affectionate. It wasn’t much, but in that fleeting touch, something subtly shifted between them, a crack in the ice that had always surrounded him.

The press of his lips against your temple sent an unexpected shiver down your spine. The tenderness of the gesture, despite his usual stoicism, made you ache for more. You leaned into him, feeling a warmth spread through you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to savor the intimacy that had quietly bloomed between you, fragile but undeniably real.

"For being here," you reply softly, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "For trying, even if it’s not something you're used to."

"Don’t get used to this," he murmurs, his tone strangely quiet, almost as if he's speaking to himself, not wanting to admit the slight shift inside him.

Illumi’s grip on you relaxed just slightly, his thumb stroking gentle circles on your back. Your words, simple as they were, had touched something within him. "Trying," he muttered, his brow furrowing slightly. "Perhaps that's an understatement for what we’ve done. But with you… it feels different. Necessary, almost."

He trailed off, his words unspoken, but the emotion behind them clear. Illumi was used to being distant, to keeping his feelings locked away. But with you, that wall had started to crumble—piece by piece, allowing something deeper to emerge.

Your heart swells at Illumi’s honesty, his words a raw admission that makes you feel even more connected to him. You press yourself closer, wanting to bridge the emotional gap between you, to share in the understanding that seems to be growing between you both.

"I feel the same, Illumi," you whisper, your voice sincere and filled with unspoken understanding.

Illumi's breath caught in his throat at your words. The sincerity in your voice reverberated through him, stirring something deep he wasn't prepared for. For years, he'd hardened himself against the idea of emotional connections—intimacy had always been something distant, too complicated to allow. But with you, the tension was palpable, like something he couldn’t push away, something he wasn’t sure how to control.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was gentle, but with an intensity that spoke volumes. It was a stark contrast to the fierceness of their earlier encounter, but somehow, it felt more consuming—this kiss was softer, but it lingered with a weight he couldn’t ignore. It felt different, like a shift, like something he couldn't quite put into words.

As the kiss deepened, Illumi became painfully aware of every touch—your body pressed against his, the softness of your skin, the way your breath matched his, shallow but steady. Every movement seemed to pull him in deeper, and for once, Illumi couldn't escape it. The intensity of the moment overwhelmed him, but it was a feeling he found himself craving—something he hadn't realized he'd been missing until now.

[dungeoncrawlingwithoutprotection]

Laying in bed, you couldn't help shaking harshly. You knew that moving out into the countryside would have a high probability of having more... dangerous neighbors.

But the howls reverberated through your entire house, sounding as if they had you surrounded. Yet you tried desperately to convince yourself to relax.

Just go back to sleep. You weren't really in danger right now.

But you couldn't. There was no way to calm down with how many things were around your house. You had no way to know what was around you, very likely a lycanthrope of some sort but you had no idea what kind.

The only lycanthrope you'd ever even met was a shy were-lynx in the city you'd just left. So you couldn't be so sure what sort of noises each one actually made. Though they certainly sounded like wolves or huskies.

Yet, you couldn't sleep without some sort of knowledge. So on shaking legs, you wobbled to the nearest window.

Squinting out into the navy blue, black night, your nerves only worsened. Everything seemed to blend together in the worst ways possible until you reached the skyline. Yet the howling didn't stop. You scanned the area as best you could, but nothing stood out against the background. Until something very clearly stood up.

You could see large ears twitching in your direction, an awkward shadow rising up on its hindlegs. But your nerves couldn't take it.

Nearly tearing down your curtains in your haste to close them. Tripping over your own feet to hide under your covers; shaking far more violently.

Not helping your nerves was the sight of massive shadows sliding across your floor. Every little breath felt like your last, especially as you weren't able to stop shaking. You were sure that whatever was out there, it would find you and it would kill you.

Or so you thought.

Unsure as to how you fell asleep, you woke up curled up in your blankets. Too hot, too cramped, and just plain uncomfortable as you stood up. Each and every joint popped as your mind revved up again, shaking your head as the thoughts of last night flashed and faded. It was so silly to think you were in danger now that the sun was up.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Pulling a large, fluffy bathrobe over your tank top and shorts, you walked as calmly as you could to answer the front door. You were not expecting half a dozen handsome men standing on your lawn; one of whom was standing in your doorway, easily capable of leaning against your door with his arm slightly over it.

You really wished you'd grabbed something less revealing...

"Uh... can, can I help you?" You meant to sound more confident but that wasn't happening anytime soon.

He grinned at you almost devilishly, "Yeah, so this is your place isn't it?"

"Y-Yes. Yes it is. Why?"

"Just checking." He winked... or at least you thought he did, "Noticed you peeking out your window last night during our hunt. Wanted to make sure you weren't too scared by us hunting so close by."

"Oh! That, that was you guys?" You really felt foolish about your fear response, "I.. I uh just heard howling and I... well I only just moved here a week ago so I'm not quite used to things out here."

"That so?" He leaned in a little, "Well, its only neighborly to offer you an apology and a welcome to the area then."

Wilting under the flirty wink, you couldn't form a single coherent word. But that didn't stop the man standing on your porch from returning to his buddies, many of whom you were only just now realizing were shirtless and flexing. The color rising on your face would have been concerning if it wasn't for the smirks they shot at you, snickering as they moved to grab something out of the pick-up truck parked in your yard.

Even as they half marched a large cooler up to you, there was a strange air about the situation. It didn't take long for them to cross the threshold, analyzing the layout of your home quickly and finding the kitchen before you could think to point or raise your voice. And the way they talked, you were more than a little flattered.

"Huh, that's an interesting color choice." "Can't believe she has one of those!" "Really suits her though, don't ya think?" "Think she'll_" "Shhh!"

It took you a few seconds to notice how tall they were. Not a single one could have been shorter than 6 foot, and all of them were muscular.

"Welp." The first one you'd met clapped his hands together, "Just let us know if you need any kind of work done around the house, neighbor."

Your heart really couldn't handle the wink as he lead the other five out of your house. Each one had their own, remote goodbye; winking, waving, and you would have sworn one blew you a kiss...

Maybe you were still dreaming...

[latin5mamii]

warm.

warnings: long chapter but i think you like them

genre: fluff, cuddle session

summary:A cuddle session with your needy boyfriend is just more than enough.

author's note:I know i've been inactive these days but with school and everything it's just impossible😔...but here you go this fluffy and comforting one -shot that i hope you'll like! If you have any other fluff idea about Jude or any other player that i write for please let me know!🤍 ( i need to write fluff these days...)Plus please don't ask about the third pic please...

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“C’mere,” Jude murmured, his arms open wide, just for you.

You stood in the doorway, watching him sprawled out on the bed, his head propped up on one arm, the other patting the empty spot beside him. His eyes met yours, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Without a word, you walked over, crawling under the covers next to him. Before you could fully settle in, he was already pulling you close. His arms wrapped snugly around your waist, pulling you against his chest, your legs tangling under the blankets.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, the familiar scent of him immediately soothing.

Jude chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Good, because you’re always cold,” he teased, his fingers tracing slow patterns across your back. “You’re like a little human ice block.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your knee. “Rude.”

“Just being honest,” he said with a grin, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. “But lucky for you, I’m always warm, so it works out.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the kind where no words were needed. His fingers continued their lazy journey along your spine, the rhythm of his breathing steady and soothing.

After a few moments, you felt him shift beneath you, his hand sliding down to your hip as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Missed you today,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

His words were soft, almost like an afterthought, but they made your heart swell. You smiled against his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

“I missed you too,” you murmured back, your voice quiet, almost as if you didn’t want to disturb the peaceful bubble that had formed around the two of you. You shifted a little, resting your head more comfortably against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. It was a rhythm you had grown to love, one that never failed to calm you.

Jude’s arms tightened around you ever so slightly, like he was afraid you might slip away if he didn’t hold on just a little closer. His hand moved up to your hair, fingers threading through the soft strands in gentle strokes. You could feel the quiet affection in his touch—unhurried and patient, the kind that didn’t need words to be understood.

You melted at his touch, leaning into him as he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, soft and lingering. There was something about the way Jude kissed you, like he had all the time in the world, like nothing else mattered but the moment you were in.

His lips trailed down to your jawline, leaving a series of gentle kisses that made your heart race just a little faster. You sighed contentedly, your fingers slipping into his curls, twirling the soft strands between your fingertips.

“You always do that,” he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

“Do what?” you whispered back, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“That,” he breathed, his hand sliding down to your hip, his thumb gently tracing circles through the fabric of your shirt. “You play with my hair when you think I’m asleep.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers stilling for a moment before brushing another curl away from his forehead. “I like the way it feels,” you admitted, your voice quiet, almost shy.

Jude hummed, a deep sound of contentment vibrating through his chest. “I like when you do it,” he whispered, his lips brushing the skin just below your jaw. “Feels nice.”

You smiled against his skin, your fingers continuing their gentle motions. Jude’s thumb sketched lazy circles on your hip, and you could feel his breathing slow, as if he was on the edge of falling asleep. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional sigh from him. Your fingers continued their slow dance through his hair, your mind wandering to how easy this felt, being wrapped up in him, his presence always so steady and reassuring.

After a while, Jude’s voice broke the silence again, this time softer, almost like he wasn’t fully awake. “Stay like this… don’t move.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back, leaning in to press a kiss against his collarbone.

He exhaled softly, his arms tightening just a fraction around you, as if he wanted to keep you even closer than you already were. It was in moments like this that you realized how much he craved the quiet, the stillness.

“I mean it,” he murmured after a beat, his voice low and drowsy. “Don’t want to fall asleep if you’re not here.”

You smiled at his words, feeling the warmth in your chest grow even more. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that, but it never failed to tug at your heart. Jude had a way of making the simplest moments feel like they held the entire world. His need for you wasn’t loud or overwhelming, but quiet and steady, like the beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you repeated softly, shifting slightly to tilt your head up to look at him. His eyes were half-closed, his lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks, and his lips were curled into that soft, lazy smile you adored.

He blinked slowly, eyes barely open, but you could still see the glint of affection in them. “Good,” he murmured, his thumb resuming its slow, rhythmic circles on your hip. “Because if you did, I’d have to chase you down.”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest at the thought. “You? Chase someone down? You can barely get out of bed in the morning.”

Jude huffed, his sleepy smile widening into a grin. “I’d chase you for sure. Might take me a while, but I’d get there eventually.”

You giggled, resting your chin on his chest and looking up at him with a playful gleam in your eyes. “Oh yeah? How long do you think it’d take you?”

He squinted as if he were seriously considering the question, his fingers still idly tracing patterns along your back. “Depends on how fast you’re running. If you’re sprinting, maybe an hour. If you’re walking, I’d say… ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes? You think I’m that slow?” You gasped in mock offense, gently poking him in the side.

Jude’s body shook with quiet laughter as he caught your hand and pulled it to his chest, keeping it there. “Nah, it’s not that you’re slow, it’s just that I’d be really motivated. I’d catch you quicker than you think.”

“Oh, so you’d be fast for me?” you teased, your smile widening as you watched the way his eyes crinkled at the edges.

“For you? I’d be unstoppable,” he replied with a sleepy confidence, his free hand moving up to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Nothing could keep me from catching you.”

You felt a soft blush rise to your cheeks at his words, and you buried your face back into the crook of his neck to hide it. Jude always knew how to say the right thing, even when he was half-asleep. It wasn’t fair.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled into his skin, your lips brushing against his collarbone.

“And you love it,” he teased, his voice low and warm.

You smiled against his neck. “Maybe.”

“Not maybe. Definitely,” he said with a lazy grin, and you could feel the rumble of his laugh in his chest. “You definitely love it.”

You huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. Jude had a way of getting under your skin, but in the best possible way. He was right—you did love it. You loved the way he teased you, the way he made you laugh, the way he held you like you were something precious. It was all so easy with him, so natural.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you muttered, your voice muffled by his neck.

He chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath your cheek. “I know. That’s why I get away with so much.”

You lifted your head just enough to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so you admit it? You know you get away with stuff?”

Jude gave you an exaggeratedly innocent look, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a grin. “Who, me? I’m an angel.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “An angel, huh? You’re more like a menace.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d wounded him. “A menace? That’s harsh. I’m deeply offended.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled at the sight of him being so playful, so at ease. Moments like this, where it was just the two of you tangled up in each other, teasing and laughing, made you realize how lucky you were to have him. He made everything better, even the quiet moments.

“Okay, fine. You’re not a menace,” you conceded, resting your head back on his chest. “But you’re definitely not an angel either.”

“I’ll take that,” Jude murmured, his hand drifting back to your hair, his fingers resuming their gentle strokes. “As long as you’re here, you can call me whatever you want.”

 You didn’t need to say anything else, didn’t need to fill the silence with more teasing or banter. Just being here with him was enough ,more than enough.

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[simonsrileyhusband]

I read your “open relationship” post. And let me say, it reminded me of that one Reddit post where the husband asked his wife for an open relationship. The wife didn’t like it but agreed anyways, for months he was sleeping and bringing people home and the wife stayed far away from that as possible until she met a guy. He treated her right and she brought him home, they did the deed and the husband was curious and jealous on who his wife was seeing. Then he demanded that they closed their relationship- the wife ends up leaving the husband and loves happily ever after with the new guy☺️ maybe write something on that with Simon being the new guy?

implied nsfw

you roll your eyes as you see your "husband" enter your home with a girl. a sigh leaves your mouth as you stand up from the couch and grab a bottle of wine and go sit on the porch. you are tired of this, you never wanted this. but here you are, all because you wanted to make the excuse of a man you used to call husband happy.

and as the weeks go by you grow tired of the moans, the strangers in your home, the missing food on the fridge and the way that pathetic man thought he still deserved your love.

one day, at the supermarket your cars tire deflated, you panic and looking for the tools to change it, not that you really know how to do it. as you pace around your car with an anxious look on your face a low and husky voice sounds behind you. "need help?" your eyes widen and you turn around, looking up at the giant guy infront of you. the blonde guy looked calm, a big bag of food in one hand and a car key on his other. "i-... yeah"

he helped you, taking the tools from his car and changing your tire, he was a bit quiet but not mean. he answered all your questions, whats his name, when did he learned to change tires, bla bla bla. he spoke softly, not a single drop of sweat on his body after he was done with the job.

"there ya' go, sweetheart. good as new." he said as he patted the top of the car. your cheeks couldnt help but turn red. "thank you so much, i dont know how to repay you."

"ye' don't have to." he was putting the tools into their box, you panicked, not wanting him to leave, wanting an excuse to see him again. "i make good pies!"

"pies?" he looks at you, tilting his head. "yeah, i woul like to make one for you... as a thank you." a small smile paint your face, you see him smirk slightly. "m'kay, a pie sound good. give me yer number."

since that day simon became very close to you, he was all you wanted. a gentleman on the streets (and kn the sheets too). he understood your weird situation, yet, he always wondered why you didnt just leave your shit ass husband.

until one day you invites simon to your home.

"who is he?"

"oh, his name is simon." you say as simon stands behind you, glaring at the man he wishes he could kill.

"why is he here?"

"i invited him, duh."

"you didn't ask me."

"oh, since when do i have to ask? when have you asked me if you could bring someone over?" you turn around and grab simons hand leading him to your bedroom. "tell your lawyer to print the divorce papers, will you? and just as a little reminder, this house is under my name."

simon smiles proudly as you slam the door of the bedroom. your name would sound prettier with his last name anyways. simon just has to wait a bit for that question.

[thatgirlsworld36]

You are mine- Jobe Bellingham

---One shot; Jobe Bellimgham x fem!reader

word count--> 4.8K

WARNING:mention of alcohol; angst, jelousy unprotocted sex(wrap it before you tap it!) , kinda rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, fingering, hair pulling(like once)... my writing!!

a/n- That's the first time i write one shot and the first time i'm writing smut in my life, sooo. Hope it's not too long. Lmk if i missed something in the warning.Also english is not my first language. Stay safe <3

Enjoy!

The moment the door slammed behind me, the lively chatter and laughter from the other room faded to a distant hum, leaving us in an uncomfortable silence that seemed to envelop us like a heavy blanket. I turned around and met Jobe’s gaze. His jaw was set,  and his eyes narrowed. 

-What the hell do you think you’re doing?- he hissed in a low, husky voice. There was something fierce in his gaze. Poisonous. My stomach churned just from the intensity with which he was staring at me, but I managed to find my voice and speak.

-I'm having a good time with my friends? I don't see where the problem is.

-Y/N, are you serious right now? The problem is that you were openly flirting with him!- his hands balled into fists. He took a step towards me, not taking his eyes off mine. He took another, almost completely closing the distance between us.

-With whom?- his words caught me off guard. I felt as if he had just slapped me hard, but his hands hadn't moved. They sat tight against his body, still clenched into fists. He was trying to suppress his rage. - Jobe, I really don't know who or what you're talking about. I haven't flirted with anyone!

- Don't tell me you didn't notice the way he was looking at you!- he growled with a force in his voice that bordered on shouting.- Everyone in the room saw you smiling and laughing at his jokes.  How you lean closer and closer to him. How you let him pull you aside to whisper something in your ear because “you didn’t hear him.” Don’t make me look like a fool!

My heart pounded in my chest. I tried to calm myself down to quell the rising argument, but the insult from his words was too strong. Had I ever given him a reason not to trust me before?

-Do you know how much you mean to me?-  he continued without even giving me time to defend myself. -I can't sit back and watch you try to get someone else's attention! You're mine. Do you understand that? Mine!

-Jobe, I didn't do anything! I don't want to hurt you.- I tried to sound calm, but my trembling voice gave me away. I didn't want this, I didn't want to argue with him. I was fighting back the tears that were trying to escape me. -I wasn't flirting with Victor, I was just trying to have fun.

-I didn't mention a name. Did i?- His voice became low, almost a whisper, as he leaned closer to my face.  His dark brown eyes were indistinguishable from the darkness. I could feel his anger all over my body.-If you weren't guilty, you wouldn't know who I'm talking about. And does having fun have to come at the expense of other people's feelings? How can you not understand that you're hurting me?

I stared at him for a minute. My thoughts wandered and I could feel my vision blurring. I hadn’t done anything. At least not consciously, I didn’t want it to seem that way. Nor do I want to hurt him.

- You didn’t say his name but I’m not stupid Jobe! I know you’re talking about him. Tell me, what do you want from me? To apologize for something I didn’t even do?- the calm left my body. I wasn’t going to let him accuse me of something for no reason.

-I’m not convinced about that anymore Y/N! If you’re not stupid, then you’re just too blind. Do you even care about our relationship? Do you care about ME?

Hot tears slid down my cheeks. I couldn’t hold them in any longer. The tension seemed to take over the air and suck even the air out of my lungs. I opened my lips to answer him, but when nothing came out, I closed them.  My mind had become a dark, scary place. It was like I was a prisoner to myself. 

-Come on, what happened? Don't you have anything smart to say anymore? Or do you think that if you cry everything will go away?- his voice was colder than before.- I'm asking you for the last time Y/N, do you even care about me?

-Jobe, I-

The closet door opened and Jude's head poked out. It was obvious that he was a little tipsy, and the surroundings and our faces made no impression on him.

- Not that I want to interrupt you, but two of the guests are leaving and- he was stopped by a quick burp, took a sip from his glass to quell another and continued- and I decided to take you back to the party. Or was it a reunion? Whatever.

He turned his back on us and with a slight sway headed back to the living room as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't interrupted a pressing argument. 

Jobe took a step forward to pass me, but suddenly caught my jaw between his fingers.

-This isn't over. We'll talk again when everyone leaves. By then you'll have plenty of time to think about what you did and about my question.- his thumb slid down my cheek, wiping away a few of the escaped tears. The feel of his hand on my skin was warm, almost comforting. A stark contrast to the chaos in my head.  With his little finger and ring finger, which were under my chin, he lifted my head slightly, making me meet his gaze again. - Do you need me to repeat the question again? You know, in case you've already forgotten it. 

I shook my head. There was no need, it was already imprinted in my mind. It sounded like an endless echo that wouldn't leave anytime soon. That wouldn't leave ever. But this answer wasn't enough. He squeezed my chin very lightly, barely perceptibly, but indicating that this wasn't enough for him. He expected something more. 

-No. No need. - I whispered under my breath. 

-Our future depends on you. Think carefully.

______________________________________________________________

The noise in the room was deafening—laughter, music, broken words that I couldn’t put together into a complete sentence. But it all sounded distant. Muffled. As if someone had put a thin layer of glass between me and reality. I don’t remember how I got to the living room after my conversation with Jobe, or when I picked up my glass, but now, as I sat on the couch, staring at the melting ice, none of that mattered. Drops of water ran down the side of my glass, onto my fingers, but even that couldn’t break me out of the trance I was in. It couldn’t save me from my mind. 

Jobe’s voice still rang in my head—low, thick, filled with anger and jealousy. It echoed like a bell. Louder than the music.  Louder than laughter, louder than conversation, but not loud enough to be found and removed from my mind. 

"You're mine. Do you understand? Mine!" 

I looked into his eyes as he said it. Dark, deep, unyielding. The tremor in his voice, the way his fingers gripped my jaw roughly. The gentleness with which he ran them down my cheek. This moment felt more alive now than the world around me.

One of the guests spilled his drink, someone leaned over to wipe it, and another toasted something I didn’t hear. The world kept moving, but I wasn’t part of it. My gaze kept falling on Jobe. He was surrounded by his brother and other friends. Jude was waving his arms cheerfully and telling some ridiculous story that he would probably regret in the morning. And Jobe was just sitting there. He was trying to act like nothing had happened, but he couldn’t fool me. Not me. His knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping his glass, and his other hand was in his pocket. As if it was the only way he could stop himself from clenching them into fists. His shoulders were hunched forward slightly, and his jaw was still set. He hadn’t looked at me once, but I knew his full attention was focused on me. 

 I bit my lip, trying to swallow the weight in my chest, but just then I felt movement next to me. A hand rested on the back of the couch next to me, making me jump slightly.

-Are you okay? You look… not here.

Not here. Yes. That's right. I'm not here.

But then I recognized the voice. Victor. I looked up from the whiskey in my hand and met his blue eyes. So different from the ones I love, the ones I desire.

-Everything is fine.- my answer was short. Evasive. I didn't want to talk to anyone. Especially him. 

A cold shiver ran down my spine. The feeling that someone was watching me made my blood boil. I quickly moved my gaze from the blue orbs in front of me and met Jobe's eyes. Brown. I didn't think it was possible, but his gaze was even more dangerous than it was in the room earlier. He was watching me. Closely following my every move, every word, every gesture I would make to the man in front of me. 

-Y/N, are you even listening to me?- Victor's voice was loud, shouting over the music trying to catch my attention.  

- Excuse me, I don't feel well. I think... I'm going to go out onto the balcony. I want to get some fresh air.- I answered him quickly. Mechanically. I got up from my place on the sofa and left my glass on the coffee table next to me. 

 -Are you sure everything is okay?- his hand landed on my shoulder. My whole body tensed. I felt like all eyes were on me. Everyone was waiting to see how far he would go. Where Jobe's patience would end.- I can…

-No no no, im okay.- I interrupted him quickly before he could finish and pushed his hand away. Someone behind me called out Jobe's name, which caught my attention. I turned to look over my shoulder and saw him. He had turned completely towards me and Viktor. The glass he was holding before was nowhere to be seen around him, and his hands were clenched into fists. He was no longer suppressing the impulse.- It was nice to meet you, Vic. Good evening!

-Are you sure Jobe didn't do something? If so, you can always tell me.- with these words he put his hand back on my shoulder and looked at my boyfriend. It was as if he was challenging him. He wanted to see what he would do. Will he hit him in front of everyone?

- I said everything is fine!

I didn't give him time to answer and hurried to the balcony. I needed to be alone. The guests had decreased drastically, but the situation was pressing me more and more. When everyone left, one persone would remain. I needed to have a conversation with the man I love. A conversation that would turn into an argument. An argument that most likely wouldn't end well.

The moment the cold air hit my face, all my emotions rushed over me. Hot tears started to fall down my cheeks, making my hair stick to my face. My vision was blurry, but I managed to reach the railing and grab it. I held it tightly, as if it was the only thing holding me here. An icy wind blew around me, lifting the ends of my dress and making my hair fly away a little from my face, but I didn't feel the cold. 

 I stared straight ahead, unable to feel anything other than fear and rage. I was afraid of how it would all end, whether he would find out that I hadn’t done anything. Then the rage came… Jobe REFUSED to understand the truth. He was accusing me for no real reason. Without ME giving him that reason. I just wanted to disappear. The wind to pick me up and blew me away. Somewhere far away. Anywhere but here. Not at this moment. Not in my home. 

The balcony door opened, but I didn’t turn around. I kept looking ahead, my eyes half-blurred and my head repeating a sentence. Over and over. Like a knife that cut into me harder and deeper with each repetition. 

“Do you care about ME?” 

Something heavy fell on my shoulders. A jacket.  It smelled like  alcohol and cigarette smoke, but one scent was stronger than any other. Or it wasn’t. Maybe I was just so used to it that I could smell it on everything. Pure poison for my mind. Or an addictive cure. I didn’t know. I knew the jacket was Jobe’s. I knew he was standing behind me from the moment the balcony door opened. But I wouldn’t turn around. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t able to…

-Was he here? With you. Alone, just the two of you.- His voice was low. It sounded cracked, trembling as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. But this time I could feel not only the rage in him, but also a hint of pain. Was I really hurting him?

The cold finally took hold of me. I pulled his jacket a little more over my shoulders and let his warmth and smell take over me. I squeezed my eyes so hard that small white dots appeared on the otherwise black background. Tears continued to fall down my cheeks, and my lips felt like they were glued together. I didn't want to speak. 

  I felt movement behind me. Before I knew what was happening, two hands came down to me, and his chest was pressed against my back. I opened my eyes slightly and blinked in an attempt to chase away the tears. He had me as if I was in trapp. His hands were millimeters away from mine. He was gripping the railing tightly, his knuckles turning white the same way they had earlier when he was gripping his glass. His body pressed against mine as if to keep me warm. He was protecting me. But I wasn't sure if it was from himself or from others.  

  I felt myself shivering. I didn’t know if it was from the cold or from all the emotions raging inside me. I didn’t know how I hadn’t felt it before. 

-Please.- He was shivering too. Not just his hands and voice, but himself.- Just tell me. Was he here with you? When Victor left the room shortly after you, did he come here? Please.- There was pain in his voice. It was so strong, it made my heart break into small pieces. And I was to blame for this pain. But at the same time, I wasn’t.

-No. He didn’t come here.- It came out as a whisper. I didn’t know if he heard me. 

A quick sigh escaped his mouth and he rested his head on mine. My arms parted. My fingers were no longer holding the railing, and my eyes burned, but I wasn’t crying anymore. We sat like that. Glued to each other for what felt like an eternity.  Gentle actions and moments that were in complete contrast to the harsh and chaotic words and thoughts in my head.

-Jobe, I can't…

-I don't want to argue anymore. I don't want to fight.- His voice was soft. I didn't feel the rage in him. Not anymore. 

  He put his hands on my waist and turned me around to face him. Our eyes met again. Brown. My favorite color. A color I never thought I would like. He put his hand on my cheek again like he had done before, but now it felt different. Better. More intimate. 

-Let's go inside. We can warp up there.

  It wasn't a question. He was telling me what we were going to do, he took my hand and took a step forward, then stopped. He was waiting to see if I would let him lead me. If I would let him end the argument. 

I followed his lead and stepped forward as well. A faint smile appeared on his face and he led us to the bedroom. Jobe slid his hand down my back, slowly and possessively, as he led me to our room. A moment later, he put it back on my hand. I could feel the warmth of his body next to me, the firm grip on my wrist. Not too strong, not painful, but enough to know he wasn’t going to let me go. Not before he got what he wanted. Me. 

We were close to the door when a familiar voice pierced the space. 

-Y/N! 

Victor. 

I looked back and saw him—he was standing at the end of the hallway with a blonde girl next to him. He was smiling and had his hand raised in the air. 

-Tonight was great. I’ll see you soon. 

Before I could react, I felt Jobe’s grip on me tighten.  His body froze next to mine. I looked back at him, but he wasn't looking at me anymore. His eyes were fixed on Victor. The calmness that had emanated from him a few seconds ago was replaced by a much darker feeling. Jealousy.  

I exhaled when I realized that Victor was simply leaving and raised my hand to wave him back. Just a gesture, purely friendly. With no intention of annoying Jobe with it or ignoring Victor.

But I couldn't.

A strong hand pulled me into the room. The door slammed behind me and my back was violently pressed against it. A dull echo echoed through the walls. Jobe's eyes looked at me again. Pure black. Full of newly charged anger, jealousy, but also passion. 

-What…

His lips were locked on mine before I could even finish. He wasn't just kissing me.  He was taking what was his. His tongue thrust roughly into my mouth without any mercy. His hands gripped my hips, holding me in a new trap. I didn't want to escape anymore. I was enjoying the end of the evening more and more.

 The kiss was getting more and more intense. Intoxicating. My lungs were running out of air, but I didn't want to pull away. His right hand was already gripping my jaw, while the left hand loosely held close to my waist.

Suddenly Jobe pulled his lips away from mine and touched our foreheads. We both struggled to take a quick breath. The moment of calm didn't last long. His lips found mine again and he started kissing me more roughly. This time his hands were roaming all over my body. I could feel him everywhere. It was as if he was under my skin and merging with me. His kisses started to go lower and lower. His mouth was roughly biting and sucking my neck. He was marking me.

-Only mine.- his voice was low and deep. Desire was pouring out of his tone.

Only mine…. Only mine... Only his.

His hands slid under my dress, pulling me out of my little trance of ecstasy. The face that was buried in my neck quickly slipped out and looked me in the eyes, grabbing my jaw again with one hand.

-You're not wearing underwear, love?- he sounded surprised. Excited. His eyes looked at me hungrily. Like a predator looking at the half-naked body of its victim. I was in front of him, pressed against the door, my dress lifted to my waist. Without underwear or bra.- Tell me, honey…- he buried his head in my neck again, biting and sucking harder.- did you do all this for me? Is it because of me that you walk around all evening without panties ?

 I just nodded, unable to answer. The lips on my neck, his teeth digging lightly into my flesh. The hands that roamed my almost naked body. Everything was almost wonderful. Intense. Intoxicating.

 A hard slap hit my thigh, making me moan slightly.

-I asked you a question, princess. Are you going to make me repeat it? Are you seriously going to play with me like this? Right now?

-Yes Jobe, for you. Only for you.

-And risk all the guests seeing what a little slut you are? Risk Victor finding out.- his hand slid under my dress finding my bare breast squeezing it at the mention of the other man- And you didn't do it for Victor. Are you sure? You dressed like this, in that short red dress, without underwear, not for him. But for me.

I nodded my head to confirm. It was all just for Jobe. A second hard slap cut through the air. This time it hit my ass.

-Yes Jobe, it's all just for you. I don't want anyone else. No one can make me feel like you. I only want you.- I almost cried with pleasure. His fingers had begun to make slow circles on my clitoris, his mouth sucking, tugging, and biting the skin on my collarbone, and his other hand was playing with my breasts. It was almost perfect. Almost. I could feel his cock throbbing against my leg. It was begging for release. My hand slid slowly down his chest, reaching the bulge in his pants.

-That was it.- he hissed softly against my skin, his hands finding the hem of my dress just above my hips and lifting it above my head, throwing it somewhere in the room. Then he picked me up by the waist and threw me onto the bed on my stomach.

I bit my lips hungrily as I listened to him unbuckle his jeans, letting them fall to the ground. I tried to turn on my back to look at him, but I was stopped.

Smack.

A hard slap hit my ass, making me stop and moan slightly. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the slight stinging pain on my flesh.

-That was because of your attempt to make a fool of me, to make me believe that you weren't flirting with anyone.

Another slap, a fourth one crashed down onto my already slightly reddened skin. A moan escaped my lips, making me bite them, trying to suppress it. There were still  more people down there. Our friends.

A strong hand grabbed my hair, making me arch my back and look behind me.

-That was because of the fact that you were flirting with him. Whether it was conscious or not.- with those words he struck another spank- The fifth, was because of the fact that you had been walking around almost naked all evening, almost revealing to people what is mine.

I bit my lip harder and harder, trying to stop my sounds of pleasure and ecstasy that were struggling to escape. I looked at Jobe's hungry eyes almost innocently. As if I didn't want this. As if I wasn't enjoying it.

-That- a stronger, sixth slap followed, making me close my eyes and let out the moan of pleasure I had been keeping between my lips.- is because you're trying to hide the sweet little sounds you make. Good girls don't do that. They let their boyfriends hear them. And you're a good girl, right?

-Yes.- my voice was quiet. A barely audible sound, mixed in an atmosphere full of desire, passion and jealousy.

A final seventh slap landed on my ass, causing the burning and slight pain to increase. This time I let my moan escape freely, earning me a slight smile from Jobe.

- The seventh was just because I can…and to remind you who was fucking you.

Jobe Bellingham. Number 7.

He turned me around sharply and slammed his lips into mine again, pulling my hips closer to him.

-Only. Mine. Damn it. Mine.

His lips left mine, but before I could protest I felt his tongue give my naked and throbbing clit a quick lick. My head fell back onto the pillow, and my hands tangled in his black curls. His fingers found my entrance, thrusting just one in. Slowly. He teased me

-Damn, you're so wet. Just for me.- his lips sucked hungrily on my clit. It was like he hadn't eaten in days. His finger started moving faster, making me tighten around him. Almost perfect. Almost again, but not quite.

-Jobe, please. I…I…Oh my god…

Jobe inserted a second finger the moment I started talking. He moved them faster and faster, making me roll my eyes and lift my hips closer and closer to his mouth. His tongue was circling my clitoris. I could have sworn I saw stars. And I wasn't even with my eyes open.

His fingers began to move like scissors, making me come closer and closer. His other hand held me in place, his iron grip not allowing me to move anymore, and his thumb was drawing light vague figures on my thigh. It was making my body relax even more.

-You want to come, don't you? I feel you love. I feel you curling around me. How your little cunt is trying to strangle my fingers. How it's begging to come. Do you think you deserve to come, hmm?

- Jobe yes…I…please, I Jobe…- his name came out like a mantra. As if that was the only thing my mind knew. The only thing that mattered.

- I don't think so.- with these words he slowed down his movements. His tongue was giving light licks on my clitoris, and his fingers were moving much, much slower. He hadn't stopped, but he was bordering on complete rest.- I think you're going to come on MY cock. Only there.

He bit my clitoris lightly and moved his fingers again quickly, making me tangle mine in his hair again and lower my head moaning his name.

I didn't know how long his sweet torture lasted, but I felt like I wouldn't last much longer. I had to finish. I couldn't keep being brought to the edge and then he would stop, give me time to calm down and start all over again. Just because he could.

-Jobe I…I can’t…any more I- it almost came out as a sob. The stolen pleasure was getting harder to bear.

- Too bad, I told you, you’ll come all the way on my dick. And I’m not done playing with my beloved princess yet.- his fingers started to stretch me again and he bit my clitoris lightly. That was my last straw. Despite my attempts to stop myself, my orgasm overtook me, turning me into a moaning mess. My thighs writhed under Jobe’s grip and I could feel his gaze staring hungrily at my face. His fingers were moving much faster than before, making me come out faster from the ecstasy I had fallen into.

When my body calmed down, my eyes cleared again and I was able to see something other than black and white spots, I met Jobe’s gaze. His eyes were fixed on me. Furious. A short slap fell on my sensitive clitoris, making me moan loudly.

-I told you not to come. Good girls listen to what they are told.

He took off his boxers in less than a second and inserted his cock into my still sensitive pussy.  He started moving immediately. Without giving me time to adjust. Rough, hard and deep. He pressed his chest to mine and grabbed my face, making me look at him.

- You are so tight as hell. And so mine, damn it.- he smashed his lips into mine. His thrusts became faster and faster, his lips - rougher and rougher. Everything was almost perfect… no. Everything was already perfect.

Our sweaty bodies stuck together, making us feel each other's hearts. Jobe broke our kiss, touching his forehead to mine, closing his eyes.- So mine. Say it. Tell me you're mine.

-Only yours.- with these words he buried his head in my neck inhaling my scent. His lips kissed lightly with his mouth open the point of my pulse. His thighs didn't stop their brutal pace- Jobe, I...I'm close I can't...I can't take it anymore.

-Come on, I'm with you. Let it go darling, come on, show me you're mine. Show me who makes you cum.

With these words I released the knot in my stomach again. I felt Jobe's sperm descend into me shortly after. Making our juices merge. After a few more thrusts he allowed himself to get out of me, hugging me tighter. His head still buried in my neck.

I liked the ending I was worried about. Me and him entangled, hearts beating side by side.

-Only mine.- he whispered and kissed my neck, pulling the sheets over our naked bodies.

My masterlist

[omgkatherine01]

can i request kraven smut where he is friends with the reader who he met at the boarding school he went to in new york. he periodically comes and visits her every few years and it’s clear they both have feelings for each other but they never act on them. he surprise visits her and he smells another male on her and his animalistic side comes out and he gets really jealous and possessive. they get into a small fight because he’s acting like he has a claim on her when he doesn’t, and she’s allowed to see whoever she wants to. they end up having sex and he’s really possessive saying stuff like “you’re mine” pleaseeee

Mine

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x Fem!reader

Warning: Smut!

Masterlist (requests are currently open for now)

Sergei stepped into the dimly lit room of your living room, his usual calm demeanor shattered by a tempest of emotions. The smell hit him first—a sharp, unfamiliar cologne that hung in the air like an unwelcome shadow. His heart raced as he caught sight of you, your laughter still echoing from the earlier moments with your male friend.

"Who was he?" Sergei’s voice was low, almost a growl, as he crossed the threshold. His eyes narrowed, taking inventory of every detail--the way your hair fell over your shoulders, the brightness in your eyes dulled by the presence of that other man.

You turned, surprise flickering across your face, quickly replaced by annoyance. "What do you mean, 'who was he'? Just a friend visiting."

"A friend?" He stepped closer, invading your space with an intensity that made you shiver. "Seems like more than that."

"Sergei," you said firmly, trying to keep your composure. "You can't just barge in here and act like you own me. I'm allowed to have friends."

His jaw clenched as the animal within him stirred. "Friends don't smell like that. Friends don’t laugh with you like… like he did."

"I won't apologize for living my life while you're off wherever it is you disappear to!" You took a step back but only found yourself pressed against the wall, feeling cornered by his palpable frustration.

"Maybe if I had known I had to compete--" he spat back, fury and hurt mingling in his voice.

"You don't have to compete for anything! You don't get to dictate my relationships!" Your retort hung heavy in the tense air between you two.

At that moment, something shifted in Sergei's gaze--a fierce determination mixed with vulnerability that sent a thrill through you despite the fight igniting in the air. He closed the distance between you without hesitation, pinning you against the wall with a hand beside your head and leaning in close enough that his breath warmed your skin.

"Then what am I doing here?" he whispered, his voice dropping into a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine. "Why do I feel like this?"

With each word, the rage ebbed just enough for a different kind of fire to spark between you. Your heart raced--not from anger but from something deeper and more primal. "Sergei…"

But before you could finish, he crashed his lips against yours, sealing off any protest.

"Mine," he murmured between kisses as if claiming territory long forgotten and long desired. It wasn't just words; it was a promise wrapped in possession and desperation.

You responded with fervor, returning kiss for kiss as his hands roamed possessively across your body. You could feel the tension spiral into something raw and urgent as desire took over reason—his jealousy transforming into something more primal.

Your moans filled the room as Sergei pressed closer, urging you to surrender completely to him. "You’re mine," he repeated almost reverently, an edge of possessiveness threading through his voice as if to ensure no one else would ever touch you in the same way again. Each kiss deepened, igniting every nerve in your body as he pushed you further into the wall, his hands gripping your waist like a lifeline.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body molded against yours igniting a fire that had been simmering for too long. It was as if all the years of unspoken words and dormant feelings burst forth in this moment, drowning out the argument that had raged just moments before.

Sergei pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, pupils dilated with an intensity that took your breath away. "Do you understand what you do to me?" he rasped, his forehead pressed against yours.

You swallowed hard, the weight of his gaze making your heart thud erratically in your chest. "Sergei, I--"

"No, don't say it," he interrupted, shaking his head. "Not yet."

Before you could protest, he kissed you again—deeply, fervently—his hands sliding up to cradle your face as if you were something precious and fragile. You melted into him, responding instinctively to his passionate assault. Each brush of his lips sent shivers coursing through you, awakening desires you thought long buried.

His grip on your waist tightened as he hoisted you effortlessly off the ground, your legs wrapping instinctively around him. A soft gasp escaped your lips as he carried you toward the bedroom.

"Tell me you want this," he murmured against your neck, his hot breath igniting trails of fire along your skin. "Tell me you're not going to push me away."

"I want this," you breathed out, feeling every ounce of resolve slip away under his unwavering gaze. "I’ve always wanted this."

He growled low in response, a sound both feral and possessive that made your pulse race. With a swift motion, he laid you down on the bed and hovered over you, the weight of him both comforting and overwhelming.

"Good," he said softly, but there was a primal edge laced through his words. "Because I won’t let anyone else have you."

As he leaned down to kiss you again, urgency surged between you—a need so profound it consumed everything else. His hands explored your body with a hunger that spoke volumes; each caress was both an affirmation of possession and adoration.

"You’re mine," he repeated fervently, as if repeating it would engrave it into reality. His lips traced a path from your mouth down to your collarbone, leaving fire in their wake.

"Always."

Your response was barely above a whisper, but it echoed in the charged air around you both—a promise sealed by fleeting seconds stretching into eternity. In that moment of surrender among tangled sheets and fervent kisses, nothing mattered but each other; the outside world faded into a distant memory as desire blazed its path unfettered.

Sergei's hands roamed over your body with a hunger that seemed insatiable. His calloused fingers traced every curve, memorizing your form as if afraid you might disappear. You arched into his touch, craving more of the electric sensations he ignited within you.

"I've waited so long for this," he murmured against your skin, his accent thicker with desire. His lips blazed a trail of fire down your neck, pausing to suck gently at your pulse point. You gasped, fingers tangling in his dark hair.

Clothes were shed with frantic urgency, revealing tanned skin and taut muscles. Sergei's body was a masterpiece of scars and strength, telling the story of his adventures. You traced the lines reverently, marveling at how perfectly you fit together.

He entered you slowly, savoring every sensation. You both moaned at the exquisite fullness.

As he pushed deeper, the world around you faded into a haze of sensation and sound. Sergei's breath hitched, his eyes darkening with an insatiable hunger as he claimed you with each deliberate thrust. You gasped beneath him, a mix of pleasure and urgency spilling from your lips as your bodies moved in a primal rhythm, fueled by years of unspoken desire.

"You feel so good," he groaned, pausing for a moment to lock eyes with you. There was a ferocity there, a promise that he would never let you go again. In that instant, you felt the weight of every moment leading to this: every glance shared across crowded hallways at boarding school, every late-night conversation filled with laughter and budding feelings.

You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, urging him deeper as if your body could communicate the need that words had failed to express before now. "Sergei," you breathed out, the sound laced with both longing and urgency. "More."

His lips curled into a smirk, wild and possessive. "You say 'more' like I'll ever want to stop." With renewed vigor, he pressed forward, burying himself deeper inside you as if he were trying to reach your very soul. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you, igniting the fire that had lain dormant for too long.

"Tell me," he rasped between breaths, his voice thick with passion. "Tell me who you belong to."

You met his gaze, allowing the heat of the moment to wash over you. "I'm yours," you declared, every ounce of defiance melting away into surrender. "Always yours."

The raw possessiveness that radiated from him surged once more; he captured your mouth in a heated kiss that spoke volumes—of need, desire, and an unshakeable claim that left no room for doubt.

"Good," he murmured against your lips before lowering himself back into the rhythm that sent stars dancing behind your eyelids. Each movement was electrifying; each whisper of his name fell from your lips like a prayer.

The air grew thick with heat and urgency as he pushed both of you closer to that sweet precipice—where passion danced on the edge of something profoundly beautiful and terrifying all at once. With every thrust, it felt like he was pulling you closer not just physically but emotionally—as if this act was sealing the bond forged over years of friendship marred by unspoken feelings.

"Together," he growled low in your ear as he shifted positions slightly for a deeper angle. The change sent shockwaves through you; pleasure tightened in your core as your body responded instinctively to him.

Your fingers dug into the muscles of his back as the tension rose within you like liquid fire. "So close," you gasped out, losing yourself in the dance of flesh against flesh.

Sergei’s breath hitched again; his grip on your hips tightened almost painfully as he neared his own release. "Come with me," he urged through ragged breaths—a growl infused with desperation and an echoing promise.

With one last thrust, it broke—the wave crashing over both of you like an explosion of color and sound. You cried out his name as pleasure spiraled through every nerve ending; your body tensed and then convulsed around him, drawing him deeper into the abyss of ecstasy.

Sergei followed you over the edge, a fierce growl erupting from his chest as he surrendered completely to the moment. You felt him pulse inside you, spilling himself deep within you.

He stayed inside of you, his member still pulsing with the aftershocks of his release. You moaned softly as you felt him move within you, your body hypersensitive to every subtle shift. Sergei's weight pressed you into the mattress, grounding you in the moment as waves of pleasure continued to wash over you both.

"Mine," he growled against your neck, his hot breath fanning across your flushed skin. His lips found your pulse point, sucking gently as if to mark you. "All mine."

You shivered at the possessiveness in his tone, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his broad back. Every muscle beneath your touch was taut with tension, as if he was barely restraining himself from claiming you all over again.

Slowly, you felt him begin to harden inside you once more. Your walls clenched around him instinctively, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. He lifted his head to meet your gaze, his eyes dark with renewed hunger.

"Ready for round two?" Sergei asked, his voice husky and thick with desire.

[cera-writes]

Remy and reader on their wedding day and night. Fluff and smut please? 😗😗😗😗😗😗

A/N: I like the way you think 🥰🥰🥰 Pairing: F!Reader x Remy "Gambit" LeBeau Tags: fluff, nfsw, sweet sweet smut

"I Do."

The air crackled with nervous anticipation, a fizzing current that danced along your spine. Sunlight streamed through the ornate French doors, casting a warm glow across the sprawling gardens of the St Louis Cathedral. It was the day. You were marrying Remy LeBeau.

A shiver, not entirely from the air-conditioned coolness of the room, rippled through you. You glanced at yourself in the antique mirror, the handcrafted lace of your wedding dress whispering against your skin. It was a vision of elegance, a stark contrast to the life you once knew. But then, so was everything about Remy.

A soft rap at the door startled you. "Come in," you called, your voice barely above a whisper.

The door creaked open, revealing Remy. He looked impossibly handsome in his tailored black suit, a crimson rosebud pinned to his lapel. His eyes, red as garnet and black as night, held a familiar warmth that sent a familiar flutter to your heart.

For a moment, you could only stare at him, speechless. He took a hesitant step forward, a sheepish grin breaking across his face. "Well, mon cheri," he drawled, his voice a barely above a caress, "you look like you swallowed a canary."

You swatted him playfully on the arm, a laugh bubbling up from your chest. "That's the most eloquent compliment I've ever gotten from a thief."

Remy chuckled, the sound rich and deep. "Only for you, cherie. Only for you." He reached out, his hand hovering over yours. "Are you ready?"

You squeezed his hand, the nervous energy dissipating into a calm certainty. "As I'll ever be."

Remy's smile softened. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Then let's go steal the show, shall we?"

The walk down the aisle was a blur. Arms linked with Remy's, you felt a thousand eyes on you, yet all that mattered was the man beside you. You glanced over at the X-Men, your friends over the years as they smiled at the two of you. Morph was bawling, tears streaming down their eyes. Even some of Remy's old Guild acquaintances had shown up and made an appearance. Remy squeezed your hand reassuringly as you reached the altar, a silent promise exchanged in a single touch.

The ceremony was beautiful, a tasteful blend of your traditions and Remy's heritage. When it came time for the vows, Remy's voice, usually smooth as butter, trembled slightly. His words, though, were heartfelt, a testament to the love that had bloomed from the most unexpected of places.

Yours were no less heartfelt, spoken with a conviction that surprised even yourself. You pledged your love, your loyalty, your entire chaotic, beautiful life to this charming thief who had stolen your heart.

You both said without a single doubt in your words, "I do," at last.

As your longtime friend Kurt Wagner declared you husband and wife, Remy took your face in his hands, his gaze intense. The kiss that followed was filled with a lifetime of unspoken emotions, a promise whispered on stolen breaths.

The reception was a whirlwind of laughter, music, and dancing. Remy, ever the charmer, regaled your friends and family with tales of your adventures, your first time ever have met each other, each embellished for maximum effect. You watched him, a smile permanently plastered on your face, your heart overflowing with a happiness you never thought possible.

Later that night, as you stood on the balcony overlooking the moonlit gardens, Remy wrapped his arms around you from behind. "So," he murmured, his voice husky, "Mrs. LeBeau. How does it feel?"

You leaned back against him, a contented sigh escaping your lips. "Like coming home, Remy. Like I finally belong."

He nuzzled your neck, his lips sending shivers down your spine. "Then welcome home, cherie. Welcome home."

As you gazed out at the star-dusted sky, hand in hand with the man you loved, you knew this was just the beginning of your grand adventure. A life together, filled with laughter, love, and perhaps the occasional heist, was a future you wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

But the night didn't stop there. Your Honeymoon awaited as Remy carried you bridal style back through the threshold.

Remy had managed to secure a beautiful hotel nestled in the heart of the French Quarter.

A slow smile spread across his face as he sat you down inside the French Chateau. He cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. "Let's get you out of this dress, shall we?"

His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. You nodded, a silent agreement hanging heavy in the air. He helped you remove the dress, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours.

When you stood before him in nothing but your lingerie, the air crackled with unspoken desire and undeniable lust. He took a step back, his eyes roaming over your body, a mixture of possessiveness and reverence in his gaze.

"Ma Belle, you are absolutely stunning," he breathed, his voice thick with desire, his accent thickening.

You stepped closer, bridging the gap between you. You reached out, your fingers tracing the planes of his chest. His muscles tensed beneath your touch, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it was replaced by a hungry glint in his eyes.

He captured your lips in a kiss, deep and demanding. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken promises, of a lifetime of passion waiting to be explored. You surrendered to him completely, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the feel of his strong arms wrapped around you.

You then pushed Remy down onto the plush bed adorned with red rose petals. He smirked devilishly, eyes never leaving yours as he beckoned you closer.

The night stretched before you, filled with stolen moments and whispered endearments. Remy was everything you'd ever dreamt of and more - tender and passionate, playful and protective. He explored your body with a reverence that left you breathless, his touch igniting a fire within you.

"Oh gods, Remy! Don't stop, please..." you begged breathlessly as he took you inch by inch, rough and hard, needy and desperate. "F-fuck chere! T-tu te sens si b-bien," he stammered, breaths coming out in short pants. You were both reaching new heights of ecstasy with each other.

You'd made it a point early on in your relationship that if he wanted you, he'd have to bed you properly on your wedding night as traditional and outdated as that sounded. You were tired of having your heart played with in the past. But here he was now, worshipping your body like a long forgotten art. Funny how life turned out for the both of you.

As the night wore on, the initial urgency gave way to a slow, sensual exploration. Remy was thrusting into you in slow deliberate thrusts. Your body fit him like a glove. "Just like that baby, god I love you, Remy...my cajun man," you kissed his lips as he made love to you.

He smiled, half proud and half completely enamored with how you were making him feel.

You learned each other's bodies in a new way, the pleasure building with each touch, each kiss.

Finally, sated and breathless, you lay curled up in his arms, the moonlight painting silver streaks across your entwined forms.

"I love you, Remy," you whispered once more, as if never getting tired of those three words, your voice thick with sleep.

He nuzzled your hair, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "Je t'aime, mon cœur," he murmured. "Plus que les mots ne peuvent le dire."

You drifted off to sleep, the feeling of his love a warm blanket wrapped around you, the promise of a lifetime together a sweet dream on your lips.

You were his and he was yours.

Pour Toujours.

[girlgenius1111]

one of your girls part 4

part 1 part 2 part 3 alexia x jenni x leila x reader. you take a ride. smut 18+. part of the rush verse @vixwritesagain ... for context: Read Part One here Read Part Two here Read Part Three here Read Part Four here Read Part Five here Read Part Six here Read Part Seven here Read Part Eight here

-----

Soothing hands were slow to stroke at your skin. When Jenni spoke, it was the quietest you’d ever heard her. A husky, mumbled thing just for you. “Be good. I want to see you come tonight.” 

There was no fight when she untangled herself a second time, though the way her hands lingered on your thighs gave her away. Jenni pressed her lips to your cheek before standing up straight. She was quick to turn, walking to where Alexia was perched on the edge of the bed, blocking your view when she bent down to catch the captain’s lips. 

You looked away immediately. There was something in your gut which made it hard to watch, like you were intruding on something private, intimate. 

Instead, your focus travelled to the corner of the room. Leila met your gaze immediately. Her hand rubbed over her mouth for a moment before she smiled lazily. You watched her focus trail down to your bare chest, then to your legs still hanging off the desk. 

With space, you could breathe again. You took the time, forcing deep breaths to calm your frantic heart. 

By the time Leila looked back up to your face, you had the wherewithal to raise both eyebrows at her. “Okay?” You mouthed. 

Leila’s grin stretched even further. A satisfied nod before her expression turned concerned. “You?” She mouthed back.

It took another second of shaking out your tense limbs, for you to nod and smile back at her. You were half way to pushing off the desk and finding a home on her lap when Jenni spoke. “Lie down, amor. Let her work for you.” 

You glanced back just in time to see how Alexia surged up to catch her girlfriend’s lips again. They broke apart only when Jenni’s grin couldn’t be contained, and Alexia pushed back to make herself comfortable against the pillows. 

Jenni turned slowly, fiddling with the harness at her hips to unclip it. Her eyes met yours as her content expression faded to something far more devious. Jenni didn’t say anything, but the raise of her eyebrow and the tilt of her chin made the instruction clear enough. 

Your legs were like jelly, though you tried to hide just how floaty they felt as you toed your way to the bed.

Alexia lay with both hands behind her head while you hooked a leg over her hips. Though her dark eyes followed your every move, she didn’t react when you steadied yourself on her stomach nor when you reached down to fist her strap. 

The few short strokes you gave it were instinctive, but the tiny groan she tried to swallow made you wonder how she’d react if you took her in your mouth. Driven by your own arousal, you ignored it and pressed her tip against your entrance. 

After taking their cocks for so long, sinking down was easy. The pleased little noise you let out might have been embarrassing but for how it made Alexia’s lips curl into the tiniest of smiles. 

Then the first gentle rock, testing how it felt to ride her. You were vaguely aware of Jenni moving around the room, but paid little mind to her quiet footsteps. 

Alexia’s lips parted, tension finding her brow when you sunk back down and sat against her hips. There was the temptation to grind your clit against her skin, but you knew what she really wanted.

Perhaps your needy whines were theatrical, but your cunt clenched around her strap over and over. You quickly found the angle you liked best, one which shot pleasure up your spine every time you sat down. 

Whatever show you were planning to put on was off the table when it felt so good. Up and down, with your eyes fluttering shut and your fingertips digging into her skin. The sounds you pulled from her weren’t loud - low groans and the occasional grunt - but they set you alight all the same. 

It wasn’t long until you felt her hands curl around your waist, just holding at first, then pushing up to grope your chest. Her fingers pulled at your nipples, making you shiver and tense around her. When her hands returned to your waist, it was to help fuck her cock inside. 

“Yes!” You gasped at the extra power behind the rhythm. 

“She looks so pretty when she rides you, doesn’t she, Ale?” Leila asked, grinning to herself when you turned your head in her direction. Alexia’s fingers tightened, very clearly wanting your attention on her. 

When you looked back down at her, she met your gaze, though with an unusually tense tone. “Do you think about me? When you’ve got Leila's cock inside of you, do you think about me?” 

Shivering, you rolled your eyes at her single-mindedness. Though you should have learned your lesson by now, you couldn’t help yourself. “No.” 

Within a second, the blonde’s hands were gripping onto your hips, stopping your movements completely. 

“No?” She echoed. As soon as you forced your eyes to hers, you were met with a cruel smirk. You tried to ignore her, tried to grind back and forth, but she was too strong. You couldn’t move your lower body even an inch, and just as you were about to give in, Alexia spoke again. “So she is lying to me?” 

Your body froze, your confusion clearly written across your face. 

Alexia grinned like she was happy to elaborate. “Leila is lying when she says you think about me when you come?” 

And it should have been a humiliating revelation, that they’d spoken about you like this. But if it was going to embarrass you, Leila would have never said it. No, she was well aware of how Alexia would bring their conversations up, and your girlfriend knew just what your reaction would be. 

Your whole body seemed to twitch as you fought the urge to push Alexia’s hands off you and take what you wanted. 

“I am not lying. Tell her, bebé.” Leila piped up, sounding as if all her dreams had just come true. 

“Sometimes,” You allowed, your pride only allowing you to say so much, though Alexia’s hands loosened their grip just enough for you to buck pathetically against her.  

“All the time,” Leila corrected. “When I fuck her. When she fucks herself.”

“Am I that good?” Alexia asked arrogantly. 

Swallowing a whine as she stopped you again, you clenched your fists against her taut stomach. In the quiet, you could hear slick sounds behind you, then Jenni’s signature sigh. 

Alexia licked her lips, dark eyes focused on your every move and hair splayed out against white sheets. You shifted a little, catching her gaze trailing down to your breasts before you spoke. “You are… good.” 

Alexia let out a sharp exhale as her focus turned clinical. “You will have to be more specific if you want to come. Did you like taking my fingers, or being on your knees for me?” 

“Alexia, just let me move.” You whined, dragging blunt nails across her forearms.

“No. Dime.”

For a second, you thought Leila might jump in and save you again. Instead, the silence stretched on and on until you broke. “On my knees.”

“Sí? What about it?” 

“All of it.” 

“Todo?” Alexia loosened her grip, stroking over your thighs as they immediately started working you up and down her length. 

“Todo.” Leila sang from the corner as you moaned. “She liked when you made her eat Jenni’s pussy while you fucked her.” 

“And when you played with her ass?” Jenni guessed. You could hear the grin in her breathless tone.

Alexia grinned too, watching you with an unfair amount of control. “Puta,” She purred, letting you find the angle which made you keen, “Show me how much you like my cock.” 

With your hands on her stomach, you bounced. A few gentle bucks first to get used to it, then fast enough to feel the heady pleasure. So thick, so deep every time you sat down. Your unrestrained moans mingled with the springs of the hotel bed, creaking in time with every rock. 

You weren’t sure if it was Alexia’s hands rocking you, or her hips bucking up from the bed. Either way, the feeling of her was more. It was relentless and deep. The longer it went on, the higher your desire to come became. 

“Alexia likes to think about you, too, cari.” Jenni called from behind. “Ever since she had you, you’re all she talks about-” 

“Jenni-” Alexia warned though her eyes never left your chest. 

“-Your pretty pussy on her cock,” The striker continued as if uninterrupted. 

“Jennifer.”

“She likes to think about filling you up and making you scream. Don’t you, Ale?” 

You watched Alexia’s eyes trail down to where you rode. It wasn’t often that Alexia was without something to say, and it was this rarity that gave you a little courage. Without letting yourself think too hard about it, you grabbed Alexia’s hands from where they rested on your hips, and shifted forwards, pinning her to the mattress.

There was barely any time for Alexia to look at you, astonished, before your lips were next to her ear, and you spoke so quietly, the blonde knew only she had heard you. That your words were only for her. 

“Come in my pussy, Ale, I need it,” You whimpered. 

Alexia groaned before it happened. You gasped when she used her overwhelming strength to flip the both of you until her body pressed into yours. 

Another second, then Alexia was moving. Not just moving her hips, not just fucking into you like she had before. Maybe it was different because you knew she was going to make you come this time. Regardless of the reason, it was unrestrained and visceral. It was Alexia, taking what she wanted, and giving you what you wanted at the same time. 

All of her control was wholly abandoned in favour of rutting into you with all of her power, fucking in so deeply, you could feel her in your stomach. All you could do was wrap all four of your limbs around her toned body, try to remember to breathe, and hold on as she worked you both up, steadily higher and higher. Her body stayed close, hips snapping her cock inside and rubbing against your clit deliciously.

“Alexia, god, Ale, ” You couldn’t finish your sentence, overcome with pleasure as your body began to shake. She fucked the neediest sounds from you with every thrust.

“Again,” she hissed.

“Alexia. Ale-” You chanted, willing to do whatever she asked if it meant she wouldn’t stop.  Not now, not when you were so high strung.  “Alexia. Please. Fuck, Alexia.”

“Te sientes tan bien,” Alexia grunted, her lips brushing against your cheek. You couldn’t think about the affection in her voice, or the way you were wrapped around her, only the way it felt. Hot, relentless, and safe. Her arms held you so tightly there was nowhere to move, but why would you want to? Her panting in your ear, the pounding of her hips, the press of her skin. All of it was heaven.

 “I’m so-” You warned, feeling it build low in your stomach. 

“No. Wait. Conmigo.” She cut you off with a low rasp. 

You clung to her, nodding into her neck though you weren’t sure it was even possible to stop it.

“Vas a correr en su coño, Ale?” Jenni wondered. 

You let out a needy whine at her question. 

The midfielder was bucking into you frantically, clearly nearing her own peak. With every thrust, Alexia grew less and less composed. Her lips were parted as she breathed a sharp exhale every time she filled you. The intensity of her gaze bordered on hypnotising, almost distracting from the word she murmured. “Inside?”

“Please,” You moaned, a hand tightening its grip on the back of the blonde’s neck. 

Her cheek pressed to yours, her lips finding your ear. “Tell me.” Alexia demanded. 

“I need you to come inside me,” You whined, “Ale, I’m so close, I’m gonna come.” 

“Let me fill up your pussy first, zorrita.”

“Fuck, Ale. I can’t.” You desperately tried to swallow your own arousal and think of anything beyond how close to the edge you were. 

“Espera.” She commanded breathlessly. 

You whimpered, shaking your head into her neck. The harder she drove, the more certain you were that you couldn’t last a single second longer. 

“It’s okay bebé,” Leila chimed in sweetly. “Come on Ale’s cock. Give her a tight little hole to fill up.” 

You stopped trying to fight it, allowing the stimulation to overtake your body. A few harsh thrusts, then it hit. You writhed under Alexia, back arching, eyes slamming shut as it washed over you. 

“Alexia,” you mewled, your voice barely more than a squeak before you fell silent. The peak was too high. You squeezed her, holding on until it broke hard. Wave after wave after wave flooding every nerve in your body.  

Alexia worked herself furiously towards her own end, finding the rhythm and angle that felt the best and hitting it with every thrust, though it was difficult to move when you clamped down. The knowledge that she was the reason you were in such a state of bliss made her head spin, and it was only a few more seconds of chasing her own orgasm before she shook. 

Alexia’s hips slapped against your skin, meeting the sound of her filthy moans until both became muffled. Her movements inside of you slowed, becoming smaller and smaller until she stopped completely. Then came the comforting weight of her body relaxing into yours. The slight shift of her cock had you keening in sensitivity, letting your legs fall from where they were wrapped around her waist. 

“Shh,” She breathed, hand clumsily gripping onto yours. You weren’t sure whether you were shaking or if Alexia was, but you hauled her in closer all the same, needing to feel every inch of her skin against yours. The room was still, or maybe your head was too clouded to register much else. It could have been seconds or minutes that you and Alexia lay there, unconsciously breathing in sync. 

When your needy sounds had died down, Alexia carefully inched the strap out of you. You managed to withhold your whimper this time, but it escaped only a minute later when Alexia leaned up and away. She rolled onto her back, her body only parting from yours for seconds before she was tugging you back into her side. Your hand trembled where it laced with Alexia’s, your inhales and exhales unsteady against her chest.  

It was comfortable, laying pressed up against Alexia’s warm skin. You didn’t think of much beyond the heat of her and the aftershocks which sporadically shivered through your spine.

The quiet shift of fabric, then a soft hand stroked up and down your back. Given Alexia’s stillness, you knew didn’t belong to the blonde.

Leila didn’t need to say anything before you were rolling away from Alexia and into her waiting arms. She was still dressed, wearing her favourite hoodie that smelled unmistakably like her, all comforting, soft and familiar. You settled against her, inhaling deeply as she ran her fingers through your hair. She was less warm than Alexia’s bare skin, but the stroke of her hands made you shiver for different reasons. You both were jostled as the bed dipped next to you, and though you weren’t looking, you knew that Jenni had not been as gentle as she pulled her girlfriend into her. 

“Ale!” She sang, pressing a few kisses to Alexia’s cheek. You could picture the shy smile on Alexia’s face, yet Leila’s heartbeat in your ear was too soothing. You couldn’t bring yourself to focus on anything but her. Peace was something you apparently weren’t allowed, though, as you were shaken gently before you could allow yourself to truly relax. 

“Not yet.” Leila whispered. “You can’t sleep yet. We still have guests.” 

You grumbled, pressing your face further into her chest. A large hand came to rest on the back of your head, fingers tapping at your skull gently at first, then a bit more insistently. You looked up to glare at Alexia, who was grinning smugly at you from her spot reclined in Jenni’s arms. 

“Did I tire you out?” She questioned. 

You rolled your eyes. “No, your girlfriend did.” 

This time though, Alexia didn’t jump to jealousy. “You begged for me. You did not beg for Jenni.” She dismissed, though she visibly tightened the grip Jenni’s long arms had around her. 

“You didn’t,” Jenni agreed, nuzzling into her girlfriend’s neck. “Don’t lie, cari. She is the best. You look so good together.”

The look Alexia tried to hide was the softest you’d seen on her. 

Leila’s fingertips traced patterns over your ribcage. “You are so pretty when you beg.” She sighed dreamily. “So pretty when they fuck you.” 

Alexia hummed her agreement softly, removing her hand from your head with a smirk. The room fell quiet again. You started to recognise the hum of cars outside and the chatter of people in the hallway.

You were just about to turn back into Leila’s chest, company be damned, when Jenni cleared her throat. “Do you all remember my goal? It was a good one, no?”

Alexia reached her hand up, stroking at Jenni’s cheek. “Sí, increíble.” 

The forward waited patiently for a moment, but none of you said anything else. “So is it time for my reward now? For my goal?” 

-----

thank you for coming on this filthy journey with me :) i hope you all enjoyed. <3

[starkeyslust]

𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐗𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍.

𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌. 𝙢𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙚𝙧, 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙, 𝙖𝙗𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙧, 𝙘𝙪𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨. 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙙𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙.

𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝.

𝙧𝙖𝙛𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮/𝙣 𝙮/𝙡/𝙣, outer banks’ hottest couple. the couple everyone idolized and wished they could be. girls all over the island wanted to be her. guys all over the island wanted to be him. the parties, the drugs, the love, the money. what more could anyone want on the island of outer banks?

one look at the couple would leave you questioning how two people could be so picture perfect. driving their fancy and brand new cars, never dirty and never a scratch or dent. always smiling, showing off loads of pda on any occasion. looking like they stepped right out of a romantic comedy movie. the type of couple you would watch on the tv as a child and only dream to have the impossible.

she was a walking goddess. from her shining smile to her sweet angelic laugh. her hair was shinier than anything anyone’s ever seen. she smelt like heaven. her perfume was intoxicating and left anyone who smelt it in another mindset. she seemed to never have a pimple, a bad day, never a hair out of place. her skin was buttery smooth, shiny and clear. some would say she quite literally was glowing. always dressed in luxury brands, heels on any occasion, the newest and most expensive handbags with matching jewelry. her nails never having a chip. always manicured to perfection, toes painted white. she didn’t need to work, her family had it all. she had money up to her head, swimming in the bills. she just got to prance around town, going to every shop in the mall, just to go home to her prince charming.

he was the guy every girls wanted since he hit puberty. standing at six foot four, built with muscles that would have any girl fainting. his cologne reeked of money and power. his deep husky voice made anyone melt in their spot, fawning over his even deeper chuckle. his smirk was extremely attractive and caused far too many girls to squeeze their thighs together. his captivating ocean blue eyes holding an intimidating gaze but at the same time, all anyone wanted to do was dive into them. he was every girls dream man. the type of guy they wished to marry as little girl dressed like a princess. although his flaws were out in the open for anyone to observe. everyone in outer banks knew of his explosive tendencies. his willingness to fight anyone who ticked him off in the slightest. his haunting cocaine addiction that only added to the ticking time bomb inside of him. his deep hatred for pogues never went unannounced. if you weren’t his friend or fawning over him, you hated him.

he would die for you and he’s told you that far too many times.

what more could anyone want? a picture perfect life straight out of a fairytale with just the added bonus of a boyfriend who would fight any guy who even gave you a sideways glance. 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡, 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙮𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙡.

keep your eyes up as you traverse the driveway, past the gates and up the steps to the front door. don’t bother knocking, no one’s going to answer. turn the knob and open the door. watch the true rafe cameron and y/n y/l/n unfold right in front of your eyes.

─────────────────────────

as many are lead to believe, rafe cameron is an explosive shell of a man who can’t handle his fragile masculinity being threatened. unafraid to scream in anyone’s faces if they try to test him. didn’t matter if it was his family, friend, man or woman. even his girlfriend. right?

let’s actually scrap that. that’s how he was before he met you. y/n changed his life around. he felt he was able to control his anger better. he could talk things out without a fight unlike his previous ‘relationships’. he felt calm when he walked the halls of his childhood home for once in his lifetime. only because he knew he was walking to him room where you resided. you and your warm embrace. your angelic laugh and cosmic smile. he felt like he was living in a fan fiction, a dream. in reality it was a nightmare, a horror movie.

six months and six days is all it took for y/n to change. you were a nightmare dressed as a daydream. you knew the game all too well. how to dig deep into his brain and feelings. you knew just the way to make him feel safe and secure. to back down. lose his confidence in defense. he won’t fight back anymore. that was something you are confident in. an confident you should be.

the first time it happened, it was a sunny saturday afternoon on topper thornton’s boat. rafe was talking with kelce while you and topper were at the front of the boat. he had just broken up with sarah and he always had his eye on you. rafe had been alerted by your all too familiar flirty tone and even flirtier giggle. it made his head snap to you guys, only to be met with your hand feeling up his bicep. he didn’t want to accuse you in front of everyone, but he was twitching to say something. an excuse later, the day was cut short and you were back in an empty tannyhill with no one but rafe.

“were you fucking flirting with topper?”

that set you off. how dare he accuse you of flirting with his best friend? “what the fuck rafe? why would i ever do that?” you asked in disbelief, anger bubbling all too quickly. although you knew that you were and you didn’t care. you would do what you pleased. he wouldn’t hear that from your lips though.

that was your first real fight. one sentence caused a full on screaming match between the two of you. one sentence caused rafe to find out who you really were behind those sparking eyes and perfect face. he should’ve known it was too good to be true. he would never get his happy ending. a guy like him didn’t deserve it.

before he knew it, you were grabbing the closest thing to you and chucking it with a strength he never expected you to have. it was a glass statue. one that shattered upon impact and left him littered with glass shards in his delicate skin. the impacted areas began to bleed nearly immediately and you just walked away. he would clean up the mess he started on his own.

he broke a seal that day. every little thing began setting you off that he did wrong in your eyes. which was nearly everything. the slightest tone change or glance in the wrong way and he would earn yet another bruise to his body. you were stronger than your small body gave off. way too strong. a slap, a punch, something thrown, it didn’t matter. you were doing one or all on the daily at this point. he put up with the torture for months.

rafe began crying more than he was smiling. he was left to clean up your mess on his own, bandaging himself up, crying from the pain as he showered. the hot water hitting every spot causing a burning sensation that made his body feel like it was on fire. he was living in hell everyday with you.

not once would he fight back. he knew you would run with it and twist the story. your father was more prominent than his and would do anything for his little girl. his life would be ruined way too quick if he put his hands on you. he took it with pressed lips and dull eyes that held nothing but pain and sorrow. the love that once lit up his eyes slipped away, taking his bright blue hue with it. leaving nothing but dull gray regret in its place.

it was only a few days after your thousandth fight that you began using his cocaine. you told him he didn’t need it and needed to stop anyways. it formed an addiction in your veins that left you high everyday, unable to function without it. it only made you meaner, stronger. the bruise here and there turned into bruises littering his body daily.

he had even ended up in the hospital once. he had nightmares about that day. you were cutting up some fruit when he set you off and your first instinct was to throw the knife directly at him. it hit just next to his heart by pure magic and he was rushed to the hospital.

you spent hours of your life putting makeup on his visible bruises to hide what you truly were behind closed, locked, and bolted doors. he was forced to act happy and in love. the pictures you two posted kept up the idea of just how perfect you two were. no one even batted an eye and the two of you. why would they? you were perfect together after all.

you sat at his desk, snorting lines while he was in bed rest from the stab wound. you starved him and would leave to be with topper. he could fend for himself after all. he was a grown man who did nothing but push your buttons. like a little kid in an elevator.

he would be in too much pain to move so he laid there until he was able to get wheezie to bring him something. he would open instagram or snapchat just to be met with pictures of you and topper. waterworks began like clockwork.

─────────────────────────

he would rather be dead than live another day as your boyfriend.

after being hospitalized again, rafe cameron had decided he had enough. once he recovered, he stood across the living room from you. he wasn’t backing down this time. he was fighting back.

“y/n you can’t keep doing this to me! you’re going to kill me! i never did anything to you to deserve this kind of treatment. i fucking loved you and you had the audacity to flirt with my best friend!” the blonde boy yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

you could only laugh, crossing your arms across your chest in a testing manor. “you’re a big boy rafe. you can handle it. i told you time and time again that i never acted in any flirtatious way towards topper.”

“that’s bullshit. i see all the shit you two post. no best friends post like that. especially when one of them are in a relationship.” he scoffed, rolling eyes following. “i’ve had enough of it y/n. i have no feelings but hatred for you now. i’m fucking done!”

“you’re done? good luck rafe. you can never leave me and you know that. your father will be pissed you fucked up such a big business deal for him.” you said, laughing at the audacity this boy had.

“i’ll tell him what you’ve been doing. why im really in the hospital, why his shit is really broken almost daily. i’ll tell the police, your family, everyone. you’ll be the one with nothing. i would rather be dead than with you another minute.” he threatened, narrow his eyes. his heart was racing a million miles per hour. his anxiety was through the roof and quite frankly, he was scared.

“oh yeah? you’re going to tell everyone? listen to me carefully rafe cameron.” you snapped, tone dark and senile. you began stepping closer to him. he only backed up in response until he was against a wall. he was trapped as you got in his face.

“you are nothing without me. you’ll have no friends left. everyone will believe that you’re just the same coke addicted, hotheaded, fucking piece of shit you’ve always been. you were always getting in fights and suddenly that just stopped? oh no. no one will believe that. you’re just an insecure little bitch with daddy issues. ward would never believe you and he will never love you rafe. you’re no sarah, get that through your thick skull. all that matters when it comes to you is that you see through this business deal for him. do you really think anyone will believe a little boy that can’t do anything right? a little boy that could never do anything right in the public’s eyes. keep talking your bullshit and see where it gets you.” you ranted, voice holding venom. a dark twisted laugh escaped your perfectly glossed plump lips. “if you would rather be dead, than so be it. i’ll make sure that happens. you’ve always said you’d die for me.” you said, a smirk growing.

your eyes were devoid of emotion, almost pitch black. he had never seen them like that before. he had never seen you turn into a full blown psychopath. he seemed to have really pushed you over the edge this time. he had a feeling he would never get his happy ending. he was about to meet his end today. there was no way out of this. he signed his death contract the day he asked you to be his girlfriend and you said yes. he realizes that now. slowly as the minutes pass, he comes to peace with his inevitable death at your hands.

he was at peace with the fact he would never feel his fathers love. his friends aren’t his friends. you aren’t who he fell in love with. he was never good enough. just a fuck up. a disgrace to the cameron family name. you were right in the end. you always were.

─────────────────────────

rafe cameron’s death was the talk of the island. not a single soul wasn’t talking about it. you were painted as the grieving girlfriend who was the victim in all of it. an autopsy was never performed on his body. his death was passed as an overdose from cocaine. after all, he had loads of it in his room and all over his desk. his friends warned him about his addiction. it would kill him. only they didn’t realize it was a different addiction that would kill him.

─────────────────────────

𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙮’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨!

first fic! it went a completely different direction than i had planned but that’s alright! what do we think? i also haven’t proofread it yet, so excuse any typos! <3 hope you enjoyed it!

[nikamuhlsrealwife777]

OKAY GUYSSS, Nika's post on instagram has made me feel so much better about her. I'm sure it's still gonna be tough and all but she's resilient and will just get better than before the injury. And with that being said...

IIT GAVE ME MOTIVATION TO WRITE. So...anon who suggested this....i finally have it written. ENJOY!!

"NOTRE DAMN" - N.M.

words: 823

Warnings: none i can

Summary: Reader gets hurt while playing against Notre Dame. Nika helps her.

JANUARY 27, 2024

NOTRE DAME VS UCONN

GAMPEL

2nd quarter, 20 seconds left on the clock. We were down by three, one shot is all it took to tie it before half time. I ran up the court, finding a place to shoot if the ball was passed to me. I watched as the opposing team switched to their defense, the rest of the huskies running down the court.

Nika ran down the court, ball in hand, calling out plays. Her eyes met mine, nodding throwing me the ball. Wide open, easy shot, that’s what you’d think.

As I’m going up, a player, number 5, Olivia Miles, comes up to guard me. She jumps to block, not really slowing down. As I’m up in the air, I feel her body collide with mine. I lose hold of the ball, I fall back, my feet not able to hit the floor. My back hits the ground, my head bouncing off the court, pain shooting through my body.

I roll around trying to find a position that doesn’t cause pain, but anyway that I move it hurts. My head throbbing, back aching, I felt nothing but pain. I felt someone place they’re hand on my head, I opened my eyes. Nika.

“Hey, baby, you alright?” She was worried, I couldn’t even put together the words to make her feel better.

“My head…it hurts,” I manage out, Nika nodding. She helps me up, giving me a look. I couldn’t tell what she was getting at.

“You want me to carry you over to the bench?” I nod, my body felt like I was going to drop with just standing. She picks me, holding me bridal style, walking me over to the bench.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby, okay?” Nika’s voice soft, I nodded in response. She was weirdly calm, but I wasn’t paying attention to that.

She placed a kiss on my forehead, “They have no shot at winning this, we’ll win this for you,” her smile blinding yet comforting. I nodded.

“I know you will, niks.”

And the team did just that, Nika especially. She locked down on Miles, causing her to become frustrated, fouling out. As it was announced that she had fouled out, Nika sent me a look, a smile plastered on her face. I just laughed. She sent me a thumbs up, a look of concern on her face. I sent her one back, she nods. The rest of the game, flawless from UConn side. Shots falling in, defense never backing down, and everything was being done by everyone. This game had to have been the best game ever played by this team ever.

Paige hitting six threes, a total of 27 points, a couple blocks. The freshman totaling 30 points together. Then, there was Nika. 18 points, four threes and 5 steals. Her adding up on her assists with 11 in this game. A double-double, to say the least, I was proud of her.

“Best game ever! You played so well, Niks!” I walked over to her, bringing her into a hug. She nuzzled her head into my neck.

“Mhmm, all for you, y/n,” I blushed, melting into the hug more. She lifts her head up, her hand finding it’s place on my cheek, “You feel alright?”

I nod, “Better, but they think I have a concussion.” Her face dropped slightly; I wouldn’t be able to play a couple games with her.

“Hey, it’s alright,” I said, her eyes never leaving mine, “It’s the better outcome then what it could’ve been.”

“You not having a concussion?”

I swat at her arm, “No, Nika,” I laugh, “I was scared I did something to my back or my neck. They said that it might just be some bruising.”

She nods, her smile returning, “That’s good news.”

“Why are you so smiley?”

“I’m here with you.”

I blush, “I would kiss you right now.”

“Do it.”

“Nika…people would find ou-“

“I don’t care about other people; I care about you. I want you to kiss me,” I hesitated, she took that as her sign to kiss me. In the room full of people, she kissed me. After hiding for months, she’s finally kissed me in public where people could see.

“Why? Why’d you do that?”

“I love you more than my reputation,” she paused, “Which reminds me…I said a lot of things to get under Olivia’s skin so.”

I tilt my head, “And what exactly did you say?”

“Too much to say now, we should go with the team,” She begins to pull me towards the team, her hand interlocked with mine.

Paige sees us, a smile big on her face, “Y’all’s kiss made it on TV!”

I look over at Nika, a smile resting on her face, “Good, then everyone will know not to screw around with my girl,” She looks at me, “How do you feel about that, the kiss on TV?”

“Everyone will know I’m the luckiest person ever.”

--------------------------------------------------------

A/N: if this happens to be trash....i'm sorry

[novaursa]

The Golden Court (the pact)

- Summary: You were taken from the royal court by your father when you were a child. Now you return as a woman grown from exile. A woman that ignites fires in her wake.

- Pairing: Jason Lannister/targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: Adult themes will progress more and more as chapters go on. This fic is pure filth and I make no apologies for it. You have been warned.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (you have been warned)

- Previous part: the hunt

- Next part: summer night

- Tag(s): @scarletdfox

The corridors of the Red Keep were mostly empty, save for the occasional patrolling guards who loomed in the flickering torchlight. The distant murmur of celebration from the Great Hall had begun to fade, swallowed by the deep, twisting passages of the keep.

Jason Lannister moved swiftly, his boots clicking softly against the polished stone, his breath even, controlled—but his pulse was anything but.

Because he had you.

His fingers were firmly wrapped around your wrist, guiding you, his grip possessive, but not forceful. You allowed it, walking alongside him with an unhurried grace, as though you were merely indulging a passing amusement.

That damn smile.

It was still there, teasing, unreadable, making his confidence falter for just a moment—because no woman had ever smiled at him like that, as if he were the one being lured into a trap, rather than the other way around.

He pushed open the heavy door to his chambers, pulling you inside before the guards rounding the corner could so much as glance your way.

The moment the door shut, he turned, expecting some protest, some mocking remark—but instead, you simply stood before him, smirking, watching him with those unreadable violet eyes.

Jason swallowed, just for a moment uncertain—but it was fleeting.

Because he was Jason Lannister.

And he always took what he wanted.

His bravado returned, bigger than ever, as he stepped forward, closing the space between you, his hand lifting to your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, his breath brushing against your lips.

Your smirk widened. “Have I?”

Jason growled under his breath, his mouth crashing against yours, his hand sliding into your hair, gripping just enough to make your head tilt further back.

You didn’t resist.

You met him move for move, your lips fierce, unyielding, your hands suddenly everywhere—sliding over his chest, clutching at the collar of his doublet, teasing over the muscles of his abdomen, pressing against him in a way that made his restraint snap.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him, letting you feel the heat of his desire, the evidence of it pressing against the silk of your gown.

Jason groaned, taking one of your hands, guiding it down, placing it over his arousal.

“Feel that?” he murmured against your lips, his voice husky, his grip tightening over your fingers. “That’s what you’ve done to me all night.”

You let out a soft hum, your fingers flexing deliberately, pressing against him just enough to make his breath hitch.

Jason’s teeth scraped against your jaw, his lips trailing downward, down the curve of your throat, his fingers already working on the laces of your gown.

He wanted you bare, wanted to devour you, wanted to win this game you had played so masterfully.

He had just loosened the first tie, just begun to slide the silk off your shoulders when the door swung open.

Tyland Lannister stepped inside, unbothered, utterly calm—his presence as effortless as if he had been expected.

Jason barely glanced up, half-drunk on wine and lust, irritation flashing across his face.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snapped, voice thick.

Tyland arched a brow, eyes flicking between you both—the way Jason had pinned you against the wall, the way your gown was already half undone, the way your breath came faster than before. “What are you doing, Jason?”

Jason smirked, his fingers still on you, his body still pressed against yours. “Does it not look obvious?”

Tyland exhaled, closing the door behind him, stepping further into the room without hesitation.

Jason scoffed, chuckling as he turned back to you, pressing a slow, heated kiss against your bare shoulder. “You’re not here to play the Septa, are you?”

Tyland’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Hardly.”

Jason huffed a laugh, his fingers trailing lower, gliding over your corset laces, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath the silk.

“So what then?” Jason asked lazily, his green eyes flickering toward his brother, amusement curling through his words. “Are you going to stand there, watching like some gods-damned court scribe, or are you joining us?”

Tyland took another step closer, his keen green eyes never leaving yours, his fingers lifting to brush a stray silver strand from your cheek, his voice low, smooth.

“You deserve better than his drunken lust, princess.”

Jason growled softly, his hands never leaving your body, his frustration barely restrained. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Tyland—”

Tyland didn’t look at him.

He looked at you.

And when he spoke, his voice was a murmur of something deeper, something more controlled, something calculated.

“Tell me, princess.” His fingers traced along your jaw, tilting your face toward him now. “Would you rather be claimed by a man who simply wants to win a chase…?”

His fingertips brushed lower, trailing the edge of your collarbone, the touch featherlight, teasing.

“Or by one who knows how to truly worship a woman?”

Jason bristled, a flash of irritation clenching his jaw. “You arrogant little—”

But then—you laughed.

Soft, breathless, entirely amused.

And Jason felt it then—the shift in control.

His smirk returned, but it was tighter now, warier.

Because he could see it in your eyes.

You liked this.

You liked them both.

And Jason had never been a man to share—but for the first time in his life…

He realized he might have to.

Jason's smirk was still there, but the amusement had sharpened, his eyes flickering between you and Tyland as he shrugged off his doublet with practiced ease.

Tyland, by contrast, was deliberate, methodical. His fingers moved with purpose, undoing the ties of your gown one by one, the fabric loosening, slipping further down your shoulders. His touch was light, teasing, but his eyes—sharp, focused—were anything but.

"You take too long, brother," Jason muttered, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you back against his chest as Tyland worked. "She’s been waiting for this all night."

Tyland only smiled. "Patience, Jason," he murmured, trailing his knuckles along the exposed skin of your shoulder before lowering his head, pressing a lingering kiss there. "A woman like this deserves to be unwrapped slowly."

You exhaled softly as Jason’s lips found your neck, his breath warm, his teeth grazing the delicate skin. His hands roamed over your waist, your hips, gripping possessively as he tilted your head further for better access.

“Tell me, princess,” Tyland murmured against your collarbone, his voice low, velvet-soft. “Do you want to be worshipped?”

Jason huffed a quiet laugh against your throat, his fingers tracing over your ribs, his palms pressing against the curve of your body. “Or do you want to be fucked?”

Your breath hitched as Tyland smirked, his hands pushing the silk of your gown further down, letting it slip past your breasts, your stomach, until it pooled at your feet in a soft rustle.

Jason let out a low groan as his eyes raked over your now-bare form. His grip on you tightened. “Gods,” he muttered, half to himself.

Tyland’s lips brushed lower, skimming over the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking against your skin in slow, teasing strokes. Jason, meanwhile, was relentless—his mouth pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the pulse of your throat, his hands kneading your hips, your waist, as though he could mold you into his shape.

Tyland’s fingers trailed down the soft curve of your stomach, moving lower, his breath warm as he kissed his way down. His movements were smooth, precise, practiced—he was not a man who rushed.

Jason, on the other hand, had always been more impatient.

“Fucking tease,” Jason muttered, watching as his brother knelt before you, hands gripping your thighs, spreading them just slightly.

Tyland only chuckled, his lips hovering just above where you ached for him most. He glanced up at you, his gaze molten. “Let me hear you, princess,” he murmured. “I want to know what you sound like when you fall apart.”

And then—his mouth was on you.

Your fingers tangled in his golden hair, your back arching as his tongue flicked over your most sensitive place, slow and deliberate, tasting, savoring. His grip on your thighs tightened as he pulled you closer, burying himself against you.

Jason’s lips found your jaw again, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs stroking over the sensitive peaks. “That’s it,” he murmured against your skin as your breath hitched, as a soft whimper left your lips. “Let him hear you.”

Tyland hummed in satisfaction, the vibration sending a sharp wave of pleasure through you. His hands pressed against the backs of your thighs, his tongue working in slow, precise circles, drawing sounds from you that you hadn’t even realized you could make.

Jason grinned against your shoulder, his own arousal pressing hot and insistent against your back. “Do you see, brother?” he murmured. “This is what happens when you stop wasting time.”

Tyland didn’t respond—not in words, at least. Instead, he tightened his grip, his tongue pressing harder, his pace quickening.

You gasped, your legs nearly giving out, but Jason held you steady, his arms wrapping around you, supporting you. His lips ghosted over your ear. “Not yet,” he whispered, his voice dark with promise. “Not until we have you in bed.”

And then Jason was guiding you backward, his movements firm, possessive. Tyland rose to his feet, his hands gripping your waist as he helped you onto the bed, his gaze never leaving yours.

Jason discarded the last of his clothing with practiced ease, his lean, muscular frame illuminated by the flickering candlelight. Tyland followed suit, slower, more measured, his hands moving to the ties of his tunic, his eyes locked onto yours.

Jason crawled over you first, pressing a lingering kiss against your lips, his body flush against yours. “Tell me, princess,” he murmured against your mouth. “Are you ready for us?”

Tyland smirked, settling beside you, his fingers tracing over your stomach, moving lower once more. “Or do we need to make you beg first?”

You exhaled sharply, your chest rising and falling as you turned your gaze toward Tyland, your lips curving into a knowing smirk despite the heat pooling low in your belly. The candlelight flickered over his features, his golden hair tousled, his green eyes dark with unspoken promise.

“Beg?” you echoed, tilting your head just slightly, feigning contemplation. “I think not.”

Jason huffed a quiet laugh, his hands gripping your hips as he leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek. “That tongue of yours is going to get you in trouble, princess.”

You turned your head just slightly, meeting his lips in a slow, teasing kiss before pulling back, your voice a whisper of wicked amusement. “Only if you catch me first.”

Tyland chuckled, low and dark. “Fortunately for you,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, guiding you onto your hands and knees, “I don’t need you to beg.”

Jason let out a breath as Tyland moved behind you, his strong hands adjusting your hips, positioning you exactly as he wanted.

“This should be me,” Jason muttered under his breath, his voice rough, filled with something dangerously close to frustration. His hands slid down your waist, gripping possessively. “You should’ve let me take you first we played this game all night.”

Tyland smirked, his hand skimming up your back before fisting in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back. “And yet,” he murmured, his breath ghosting against your ear, “you are mine to break in.”

You gasped as he entered you, slow, deliberate, stretching you inch by inch until you were trembling beneath him. He didn’t thrust, didn’t rush—he simply stayed there, letting you adjust, letting you feel every inch of him.

Jason cursed under his breath, his grip on you tightening. “You bastard,” he ground out, watching as your lips parted in a silent moan, as your nails dug into the sheets.

Tyland exhaled through his nose, pleased, his hand stroking down your back soothingly as he pulled out almost entirely before easing back in, keeping his pace agonizingly slow. “She needs restraint now,” he murmured, his voice calm, controlled, “not your ferocity.”

Jason scowled, but said nothing.

You, however, let out a low whimper as Tyland’s fingers traced over the small of your back, his movements measured, his touch firm but unhurried. He was not a man who took without care—he wanted to feel every reaction, to draw out every sound, to make you unravel beneath him at his own pace.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his free hand gripping your hip, steadying you as he set a slow, rolling rhythm. “You take me so well.”

Jason’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering between your blissed-out expression and the way Tyland moved inside you, slow and devastating. “Are you done savoring her yet?” he muttered, his voice rough with restraint.

Tyland hummed, amusement lacing his tone. “Not nearly.”

Jason groaned in frustration, his fingers gripping your chin, tilting your face toward him, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. You moaned against his mouth as Tyland’s pace quickened just slightly, enough to make your fingers clutch at the sheets.

Tyland’s control had always been his greatest strength, his defining trait—a Lannister who observed, who calculated, who struck when the moment was right. But here, with you trembling beneath him, your body molded to his, your breath coming in uneven gasps as he moved within you—his restraint was slipping.

You felt it in the way his grip on your hips tightened, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin. You heard it in the way his breath turned ragged, no longer controlled, no longer measured.

He had taken his time, savoring every whimper, every inhale, every desperate clutch of your fingers into the sheets. But now—now, something in him snapped.

Tyland’s pace quickened, no longer slow and deliberate, but hungry, relentless. A gasp left your lips as his thrusts became rougher, deeper, pushing you into the mattress with every motion.

Jason cursed beside you, his own breath uneven, his jaw clenched tight.

“Fucking bastard,” Jason muttered, watching as you arched into his brother, as your lips parted in a moan that sent heat curling through his already aching body. He had been chasing you for over a moon, had danced with you, flirted with you, watched you tease him with those violet eyes of yours—only for Tyland to take what he had wanted first.

His patience was wearing thin.

Tyland let out a low groan, his hands pressing firmly against your back, guiding your body against his as he chased his release, his carefully cultivated composure in tatters. His mouth found your shoulder, his teeth scraping against flushed skin, his hands roaming over every inch of you, mapping the curves and dips of your body as though committing them to memory.

Jason watched, his frustration mounting.

“You’re so fucking smug,” Jason growled, his hands trailing down your sides, possessive. “Like you’ve won some gods-damned prize.”

Tyland tightened his grip on your waist. “I didn’t win anything, Jason,” he murmured, his voice low, roughened with pleasure. “She gave herself to me.”

Jason’s fingers twitched, curling into fists against the sheets. “Don’t fucking gloat.”

Tyland didn’t answer—he was too focused, too lost in you.

His movements turned desperate, his rhythm breaking as his breath hitched. His hand slid around your waist, pulling you back against him one last time before he shuddered, a groan ripping from his throat as he reached his peak, his release spilling inside you as his grip turned bruising.

He stilled for a long moment, his forehead resting against the back of your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin, his body pressed against yours.

Jason shoke his head. “Seven hells.”

Tyland finally released you, his hands lingering on your hips as he withdrew, his breath still uneven, his control shattered.

Jason, still affected by the wine, still burning with frustration, finally lost what was left of his patience.

“Move, brother,” Jason muttered, his voice tight, his hands already gripping your waist, flipping you onto your back. “I’ve waited long enough.”

Tyland smirked slightly, still breathless, his green eyes glinting as he leaned back onto the mattress, utterly unbothered. “Impatient as ever.”

Jason ignored him, his gaze dropping to you.

Flushed, breathless, still trembling beneath them.

His lips curved into a slow, wicked smirk.

“My turn.”

Jason’s hands were on you before you could catch your breath, strong, possessive, pulling you toward him as though he refused to let even the space of a whisper exist between you. His frustration simmered in his eyes, still touched by wine, still edged with the bitterness of having been second to his brother.

He tilted your chin up, his thumb grazing over your lower lip, his smirk full of something dark, something dangerous. “You enjoyed that,” he murmured, his voice husky, roughened by restraint he no longer wished to have.

You let out a soft hum, your lips curving into that same teasing smile—the one that had driven him mad for over a moon. “Did you not?”

Jason let out a breath, shaking his head, his smirk turning into something wilder. “You’re a wicked thing,” he muttered, his hands parting your legs without hesitation, his fingers gripping into the soft skin of your thighs.

Your smirk only deepened. “And yet, you’re the one trembling.”

Jason growled under his breath, his grip tightening. “Not for long.”

He dragged his hands over your hips, over the curve of your waist, his touch lingering just long enough to savor every inch of you. Unlike Tyland, he did not take his time to tease, to test the limits of his control—because Jason had no interest in control.

He wanted.

And Jason Lannister always took what he wanted.

He positioned himself between your thighs, his eyes locked onto yours, his smirk never fading. “You’re going to feel me for days,” he murmured, his voice low, dark with promise.

Before you could respond, before you could continue to toy with him, he pushed inside you in one swift, claiming thrust.

A sharp gasp left your lips, your fingers clutching onto his forearms as the stretch of him sent a shockwave through your body.

Jason let out a long, satisfied groan, his head tilting back for just a moment as he savored the feeling of you around him.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his grip on you tightening, his fingers digging into your thighs. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

You exhaled shakily, your lips parting as you tried to steady yourself, but Jason gave you no time to adjust. Unlike Tyland, who had been measured, patient—Jason was neither.

His hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt, a growl ripping from his throat as he finally—finally—took what he had been chasing for far too long.

You let out a soft, breathless moan, your head tilting back against the pillows, but Jason wasn’t satisfied with that.

He gripped your chin, forcing your gaze back to him. “Don’t you dare look away from me,” he growled. “You wanted this, princess. Now, take it.”

You shuddered, your body responding to the dominance in his tone, to the raw, unfiltered need in his eyes.

He set a brutal pace, each thrust deep, deliberate, designed to leave you breathless, to make you feel every inch of him, to claim you in a way that left no room for doubt.

Tyland had taken you with control.

Jason took you with possession.

His hands roamed over your body, greedy, relentless—one sliding to your throat, not squeezing, just resting there, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his palm. The other gripping your thigh, pulling you tighter against him as he thrust harder, deeper, his breath ragged against your ear.

“You were made for this,” he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. “Made for me.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still toying with him even now. “Such arrogance.”

Jason smirked, pressing his lips to your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin as he snapped his hips forward, harder this time, forcing a moan from your lips.

“Say that again,” he dared, his voice dark with amusement. “Say it while I’m buried inside you, while you tremble for me.”

You shuddered, your nails dragging down his back, leaving red streaks in their wake. Jason groaned at the sting, his rhythm faltering for just a moment before he redoubled his efforts, determined to wring every last sound from you.

“You’ll remember this,” he murmured against your skin, his voice softer now, but no less possessive. “Whenever you lie alone in your bed, whenever you ache for more—you’ll remember this.”

You gasped as he angled himself just right, pleasure coiling tight in your belly, your fingers gripping onto him as you felt yourself begin to fall.

Jason grinned wickedly, feeling the way your body clenched around him.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his breath warm against your throat. “Now come for me.”

But as he continued to claim you in a way that left no doubt—he realized something.

He had chased you for more then a moon, had thought he was the one pursuing you.

But here, now, as your lips parted on a soft, breathless moan—he understood.

You had been leading him the entire time.

Jason was relentless.

Even as your body trembled from the force of your release, as your breath came in unsteady gasps, he did not slow. If anything, he only quickened his pace, his grip turning bruising, his fingers digging into your thighs as he sought his own peak.

His movements were rough, desperate, full of an unchecked hunger that had burned inside him for too long. He had spent weeks chasing you, fantasizing about this moment, about the way you would feel wrapped around him—and now that he had you, he was determined to leave you properly ruined.

"You think you're clever," he muttered against your skin, his breath hot, uneven. "You think you can tease me, toy with me, and walk away unscathed?"

You barely had the chance to respond before he buried himself deep, his hips snapping against yours in one final thrust, a rough groan escaping his throat as he found his release. His body shuddered above you, his grip tightening as he spilled inside you, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he breathed heavily, his body still trembling with the aftershocks.

For a long moment, the only sound in the chamber was his ragged breathing, the quiet crackle of the dying fire in the hearth.

Then—Tyland spoke.

"You could have been a little more considerate, brother," he noted, his voice dry.

Jason let out a breathless laugh, lifting his head just enough to cast his twin a smirk. "And you could have gone first with a bit more urgency," he shot back, shifting slightly as he slowly pulled out, his release already beginning to spill from between your thighs. He reached down, running his fingers through the evidence of what he had done to you, his smirk widening. "Looks like I've marked my claim properly, after all."

You exhaled softly, unbothered, unashamed. If anything, you found his arrogance amusing.

"How very Lannister of you," you murmured, stretching languidly beneath them, the glow of candlelight painting your skin in soft golds. "Do you intend to leave me looking like a conquered kingdom, or would you rather lay tribute at my feet?"

Tyland chuckled, settling beside you, his fingers brushing down your spine with an almost absentminded gentleness. "She toys with words as well as she toys with men," he murmured, his green eyes glinting with amusement.

Jason smirked, leaning back on his elbows as he watched you. "It's not words she's been toying with tonight."

You turned your head, fixing him with a teasing smile. "No, I believe it was you who was toyed with, my lion."

Tyland hummed in approval. "She has a point."

Jason scoffed, shaking his head as he traced lazy patterns over your hip. "If being ruined by me is a game, then I think she’s lost."

You arched a brow, tilting your head as though in contemplation. "Lost?" Your smirk deepened. "I haven't even begun to play."

Tyland let out a soft laugh, while Jason merely grinned, his fingers tightening against your waist.

"Then I suppose we’ll just have to keep playing," Jason murmured, leaning down to press a lingering kiss against your collarbone.

You sighed dramatically, shifting against the pillows as you glanced between them. "Gods, and here I thought I would be able to sleep."

Tyland smirked. "Oh, princess. Who said we were done?"

Jason chuckled lowly, his hands already starting to wander again. "You should know better than to taunt lions, little dragon."

And with that, the game continued.

The candlelight flickered, casting shadows over the tangled mess of limbs and sheets. The chamber was warm, the air thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and satisfaction. Your body hummed from the onslaught of pleasure, a languid soreness settling in your limbs as you sprawled between them, entirely spent yet utterly unrepentant.

Jason lay on one side of you, his chest rising and falling heavily, his golden hair tousled, sticking to his forehead. His fingers traced slow, absentminded circles against your waist, his other arm lazily thrown behind his head, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

Tyland, ever the picture of composed arrogance, rested on your other side, his breathing only just steadying, his green eyes watching you with quiet amusement. His fingers skimmed over the marks both he and his twin had left behind—bruises, nail scratches, love bites marring your usually pristine skin.

It had started with Jason's hands pinning you down, his words rough against your ear, his thrusts as deep and unrelenting as before. Then Tyland had joined in, his control unraveling, his pace calculated but no less devastating.

They had taken you together for the rest of the night, both lions prowling their prey, neither willing to yield. And you? You had relished in it.

Your lips curled as you exhaled, tilting your head lazily to glance between them. “I never knew the two of you shared anything.”

Jason let out a breathless chuckle, still basking in his satisfaction. “We don’t.”

Tyland smirked, his fingers brushing idly against your stomach. “Apparently… until now.”

You arched a brow, amusement glinting in your violet eyes. “Well,” you mused, stretching slightly, feeling the pleasant ache settle deeper in your muscles, “I must say, you do make a rather spectacular pair.”

Jason scoffed, tilting his head to look at you. “Spectacular, is it?” He exhaled, his smirk sharpening as his fingers traced down your hip. “I think the word you’re looking for is ruinous.”

You hummed in consideration, shifting against the sheets. “Perhaps.” Your gaze flickered to Tyland, your voice lilting with mischief. “And what do you think, my quiet lion?”

Tyland’s smirk widened just slightly, his hand moving to grip your chin, tilting your face toward him as he studied you. “I think you should be careful about feeding Jason’s ego. He might start thinking he actually won something tonight.”

Jason scoffed, propping himself up on one elbow, his smirk never fading. “Oh, I won something, brother.” His fingers ghosted over the marks on your thighs, his grin nothing short of wicked. “And she’ll be feeling it for days.”

Tyland hummed, unconvinced. “She will be feeling something for days,” he agreed, his green eyes glinting as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “But I rather think I was the one who broke her in first.”

Jason growled under his breath, his smirk faltering just for a moment before he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Enjoy it while you can, Tyland. I promise you, she will be calling for me next.”

You exhaled a soft laugh, completely unbothered by their jabs, your amusement growing as you stretched once more, unabashed in your nudity, relishing in the way both of their eyes flickered over you.

“Oh, my lions,” you murmured, your voice warm, honey-sweet. “You assume I’ll only call for one.”

Jason’s smirk returned instantly.

Tyland simply chuckled.

The remnants of last night’s revelry still clung to the Red Keep like a lingering scent, a mix of spiced wine, burnt-out candle wax, and the perfumed trails left behind by nobles who had danced, drank, and indulged well into the early hours. But now, the Great Hall had been emptied, its grandeur restored to order, and in the private chambers of the Lannister delegation, the true business of the morning was being discussed.

Jason Lannister sat comfortably in his chair, a goblet of wine in hand, his expression utterly at ease. The golden embroidery of his doublet caught the sunlight filtering in from the high arched windows, a lion at rest, basking in the afterglow of both celebration and conquest.

Tyland sat opposite him, ever the image of controlled amusement, his eyes observing his twin with something between exasperation and reluctant admiration.

Beside Tyland, Lord Alton Lannister, a man who had always carried the weight of Casterly Rock’s concerns with solemn dignity, looked less than pleased. And next to Jason, reclining in a casual sprawl, was Ser Reynard Lannister, his own goblet dangling lazily from his fingers as he watched the scene unfold with a smirk that mirrored Jason’s.

It was Alton who spoke first, his tone measured but firm.

“A raven came this morning from Lord Westerling,” he announced, his voice heavy with displeasure.

Jason lifted a brow, unimpressed. “And?”

Alton sighed. “And he will no longer entertain the idea of you marrying his daughter.”

Jason’s smirk barely wavered as he took a slow sip of his wine, letting the weight of Alton’s words settle over the room before exhaling a quiet chuckle. “Is that all?”

Alton’s jaw tightened. “Rumors have reached him,” he pressed. “Of your… less than honorable pursuits concerning the princess.”

At that, Reynard laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “You say ‘less than honorable’ as if the princess isn’t quite pleased with the arrangement.”

Tyland hummed, setting his goblet down with a soft clink. “It would seem Westerling is a man of principle,” he mused, glancing at Jason with a knowing look. “Or at least a man who wishes to avoid having his daughter attached to the lion who’s been chasing after a dragon.”

Jason rolled his shoulders, utterly unconcerned. “Let him keep his daughter then. I doubt she was much entertainment.”

Alton let out a slow breath, clearly attempting to keep his composure. “Jason—”

Jason leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table, swirling the wine in his goblet lazily. “Westerling has always been tedious,” he remarked. “And if the man has decided that rumors—not facts, mind you—are enough to turn him away, then I doubt we would have ever seen eye to eye as family.”

Tyland smirked. “Rumors?” he repeated, amusement lacing his voice. “If they are only rumors, then tell me, brother, what exactly were you basking in when I walked in last night?”

Jason’s grin sharpened, his green eyes glinting. “I do not recall denying them.”

Alton’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Regardless, this will not be the last of it,” he warned. “Word is traveling. If House Westerling knows, others will follow. The princess is highly favored, and your reputation—”

“My reputation is exactly what it has always been,” Jason cut in smoothly, tilting his head. “That of a man who takes what he desires.”

Alton exhaled sharply, clearly unimpressed. “That of a man who has wasted a promising match for our house.”

Jason waved a hand dismissively. “Miserable match. And tell me, Alton, is House Lannister so weak that it cannot afford to lose one skittish ally?”

Reynard chuckled, lifting his goblet. “Hardly.”

Jason inclined his head in agreement. “Exactly.” He took another sip of his wine before setting it down, leaning back comfortably. “That being said, it would be wise for the rest of you to return to Casterly Rock.”

Alton blinked. “You mean to stay?”

Jason smirked. “For a little while longer,” he admitted, glancing toward the windows, where the faint echoes of life in the Red Keep continued beyond their chambers. “King Viserys has extended his hospitality, and it would be rude to leave so soon after his nameday celebrations.”

Tyland arched a brow. “How generous of you.”

Jason’s smirk widened. “It is, isn’t it?”

Alton looked less than convinced. “You mean to linger in the hopes of continuing your pursuit of the princess,” he stated flatly.

Jason merely took another sip of wine, his smirk never wavering.

Alton pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his teeth. “Jason, this is reckless.”

Jason finally leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, looking at his cousin with easy confidence. “Reckless?” He chuckled. “Or strategic?”

Alton shook his head. “And what exactly do you stand to gain from this?”

Jason grinned. “The better question, cousin, is what I stand to lose.”

Tyland watched his twin with that same quiet amusement, before turning to Alton. “There is no convincing him,” he remarked dryly.

Alton sighed heavily.

Reynard smirked. “Well, if nothing else, it will be entertaining to watch.”

Jason raised his goblet in mock salute, his smirk never fading. “That, cousin, is the spirit.”

The chamber door closed with a final thud, leaving only Jason and Tyland within the private quarters. The echoes of Alton’s disapproving sighs and Reynard’s quiet chuckles faded into the distant hum of the Red Keep’s halls, leaving a charged silence in their wake.

Jason leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out with an air of casual ease. He swirled the remnants of his wine in his goblet, watching the deep red liquid catch the light before finally speaking.

“We need to set some rules.”

Tyland arched a brow, unimpressed. “Rules?”

Jason smirked, tilting his head. “You and I have never shared anything before, and yet—here we are.” He took a lazy sip of his wine, his gaze glinting with something between amusement and challenge. “So, if we’re going to continue this arrangement without strangling each other, we need to clear a few things.”

Tyland leaned forward, resting his forearms against the table. “By all means,” he said smoothly. “Lay down your terms, brother.”

Jason let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “This is not just my terms. You’re in this as much as I am.”

Tyland exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Very well.” He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp, assessing. “Go on.”

Jason’s smirk lingered as he set his goblet down, tapping his fingers lightly against the polished wood. “First,” he began, “no competing over her.”

Tyland scoffed. “You say that as if you haven’t already been treating this as some conquest.”

Jason shrugged, unbothered. “I was chasing her before you decided to step in.”

Tyland smirked. “And yet, I was the one to take her first.”

Jason’s jaw ticked just slightly, but he merely exhaled through his nose, schooling his expression into one of easy amusement. “Which is exactly why this conversation needs to happen before I gut you in your sleep.”

Tyland let out a soft laugh. “Please. You couldn’t land a clean hit on me even when we were boys.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Regardless. We’re in this now. No childish squabbling, no undermining each other. She enjoys the game, but she’s too smart to tolerate petty jealousy.”

Tyland inclined his head in agreement. “Fair.”

Jason’s smirk widened slightly before he continued. “Second,” he leaned forward slightly, his green eyes darkening with something more serious, “we do not push her into anything.”

Tyland blinked. “That goes without saying.”

Jason nodded. “I know. But it needs to be spoken aloud.” His voice was lower now, quieter. “She’s… herself. She’s not some blushing maiden who can be corralled into a role that doesn’t suit her.”

Tyland studied his twin for a long moment before leaning back in his chair. “You’re more taken with her than you want to admit.”

Jason’s smirk faltered for just a moment—so slight that most wouldn’t have caught it. But Tyland knew him.

“I enjoy the chase,” Jason replied smoothly.

Tyland hummed. “And when she decides to turn the chase on you?”

Jason chuckled, shaking his head. “Then I’ll run, and see if she catches me.”

Tyland exhaled, rubbing a hand along his jaw. “So—no competition, no forcing her into anything, and no pettiness.”

Jason nodded. “Exactly.”

Tyland tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning. “And when she grows tired of us?”

Jason paused for a moment before shrugging. “Then we will bow out with grace.”

Tyland chuckled. “Grace? You? That’ll be a sight.”

Jason grinned, raising his goblet once more in a mock toast. “Then let’s ensure she doesn’t grow tired of us.”

Tyland smirked, lifting his own goblet. “Agreed.”

The air carried the faint scent of roasted meats and fresh-baked bread, though you had only picked at your meal, your appetite more inclined toward leisure than hunger. Across from you, Daemon Targaryen sat with his usual effortless confidence, his posture loose but his dark violet gaze missing nothing.

Your father had been watching you for some time now, absently toying with the dagger in his hand, spinning it between his fingers with practiced ease. He had not spoken yet, letting the silence stretch between you both as he nursed his wine. But Daemon was not a man known for patience.

Finally, he broke the quiet.

“You left the feast early.”

You lifted your goblet to take a slow sip, offering him nothing but a casual shrug in response. “I was bored.”

Daemon chuckled, shaking his head as he set his dagger down against the wood with a thunk. “Bored?” he echoed, amusement dancing in his voice. “A hall full of lords throwing themselves at your feet, offering you flattery, gifts, dances—and you were bored?”

You exhaled, swirling the wine in your goblet. “They are predictable,” you mused. “They prattle on about their titles, their lands, how they would make me a fine match. As if I care for any of it.” You smirked slightly, tilting your head. “If I wished to be entertained by empty boasts, I would have stayed near Uncle Viserys and listened to his councilors bicker about coin and crops.”

Daemon let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “You sound like me.”

Your lips curved. “And is that a bad thing?”

His smirk widened, a flicker of pride gleaming in his violet eyes. “Not at all,” he admitted, reaching for his goblet, taking a slow sip before setting it back down. Then, with a look far too knowing, he added, “So… if you were so terribly bored at the feast, I assume you found something far more entertaining to occupy your evening?”

You did not answer immediately, instead watching him over the rim of your goblet as you took another sip, offering nothing but a small, enigmatic smile.

Daemon arched a brow. “Ah,” he murmured, leaning forward slightly, resting his chin against his knuckles. “Now I’m curious.”

You hummed in amusement. “Are you?”

His smirk grew, but his eyes sharpened, assessing. “I know the look of someone who’s spent the night in far more interesting company than their own bed.” He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You play your games well, daughter.”

You tilted your head, your smile never fading. “I learned from the best.”

Daemon chuckled, shaking his head. But there was something else in his gaze now, something keen and knowing—something protective. “Careful, though,” he murmured, his tone turning softer, though no less weighty. “You might find yourself ensnared in a game you can’t control.”

You exhaled through your nose, unbothered. “I have a dragon, Father,” you murmured, your voice warm with amusement. “Do you think a lion can trap me?”

Daemon let out a quiet, approving hum. “Perhaps not.” But then his gaze darkened, and he leaned forward slightly. “But lions do not hunt alone.”

Your smirk did not waver. If anything, it only deepened.

“Neither do dragons.”

Daemon studied you for a long moment before shaking his head, laughter rumbling low in his chest. “You truly are your mother’s daughter.”

You merely hummed, lifting your goblet once more.

Let him wonder. Let him suspect. Let him know.

[yunholic-jongholic]

Bound to the Bosses [Part 5] | C.JH x Reader x J.YH

SUMMARY | At the age of 20, you surrendered your freedom to a former mafia gang in exchange for a secure life and all your needs met. You pledged your existence to two of the members, Choi Jongho and Jeong Yunho, who managed the leading underground strip club and took you under their wing. They both permit you to perform on weekend nights, but once the lights go out and the workday ends, you belong solely to both of them.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Fem!Reader x Yunho

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | Mean Dom!Jongho, Mean Dom!Yunho, Strip Club Setting, NSFW, SMUT, ANGST, Explicit Content, Trauma Bonding, Heavy Alcohol Consumption, Back Story Mentioning, Unprotected Sex (Don't Do It...), Marking, Begging, Possessive Yunho, Cursing, Creampie, (I am missing some, I will come back), (A/N: I don't think she ever comes back and edits these...)

WORD COUNT | 4.8k

AUTHOR NOTE | This first starts with yunho smut, and yeah. please keep in mind there is actual angst and trauma in this chapter. I have no idea what next chapter will be, it will be a while until I upload the next one because I have 2 paths on where to go and right now, I am unsure LMAO.

TAG LIST | @mingisleftnipple @yusalterego

•

The loud boom rattled through the quiet room, jolting you awake.

Your breath hitched as your eyes shot open, heart pounding against your chest. But as you blinked through the darkness, you quickly realized—

It was just thunder.

Rain pattered against the windows; the sound steady, rhythmic. You exhaled in relief, pressing a hand to your chest as you tried to calm your racing heart.

For a moment, you just sat there, your body still heavy with exhaustion, watching the droplets slide down the glass. The city outside was dark, but occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the streets, casting eerie shadows against the walls.

The silence was almost too peaceful.

You sat up in bed, staring at the rain-covered window, your mind unable to settle. Was Yunho actually going to come back?

The thought lingered, making your stomach twist with something you couldn’t quite name.

Instead of waiting, you decided to find out for yourself.

Slipping out of bed, you padded down the dimly lit hallway, your bare feet barely making a sound against the wooden floor. You didn’t hesitate—you never knocked when it came to him.

You pushed open his door, stepping inside without warning.

"Yunho?"

The sight in front of you made you pause.

He was sitting in his chair, slouched slightly, a nearly empty bottle clutched in one hand. His gaze was hazy, but sharp as ever—until he saw you.

His eyes widened slightly just before he coughed, sputtering on his drink as if he hadn’t expected to be caught.

"Shit," he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Ever heard of knocking?"

You ignored the question, stepping closer, your eyes narrowing slightly at the bottle in his hand. This wasn’t just casual drinking.

Yunho exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he studied you. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice lower, quieter now.

And for the first time tonight, he wasn’t teasing.

There was something else in his eyes—something heavier. Something you hadn’t seen before.

Your voice barely came out as a whisper. "I thought… you wanted to see me later after we did it. I just wanted to know if you were okay…"

Yunho’s reaction was immediate.

He stood up from his chair, his movements slightly sluggish but still calculated. His towering frame loomed over you within seconds, closing the distance between you.

The moment he spoke, you caught it—the heavy scent of alcohol on his breath. It was strong, intense, burning. He had downed nearly the entire bottle by himself.

"Why?" he exhaled, his voice husky, laced with bitterness. "Did you want to do it with me again? Are you that needy?"

You stiffened.

His words weren’t teasing. They weren’t playful, like before.

They were cutting.

Yunho’s eyes were clouded, but there was something else behind them—something dark, something hurt.

This wasn’t just about you coming to find him.

This was about him. Whatever was in his mind, whatever was eating away at him, the alcohol had loosened the barriers, and now he was lashing out.

You swallowed hard, keeping your voice steady. "Yunho… why are you drinking so much?"

He scoffed, shaking his head as if the question was ridiculous. "What does it matter?"

"It does matter," you pressed. "You’re clearly not okay."

Yunho exhaled harshly, running a hand down his face before locking eyes with you again. This time, his smirk was gone. The confidence, the cocky attitude—all of it stripped away.

And for the first time, you realized…

Yunho wasn’t just drunk.

He was drowning in something you couldn’t see.

Yunho’s grip tightened around your face, his breath hot against your lips as he groaned, his frustration spilling over.

"Fine. If you're that needy, we can do it."

Before you could even react, he pulled you into a kiss—rough, desperate, messy. The taste of alcohol lingered on his tongue, the scent of bitterness still clinging to him.

The suddenness of it made you stumble, your balance slipping as you tumbled forward.

"Shit—" Yunho muttered as he tried to catch you, but he was far too unsteady himself.

The both of you crashed onto the floor, a breathless tangle of limbs, your body hovering above his.

Yunho let out a low chuckle, his hands instinctively gripping your waist as if steadying both of you. But despite the teasing smile, his grip on you wasn’t playful—it was firm, possessive, like he didn’t want to let go.

He leaned up, capturing your lips again, softer this time but still laced with a frustration that hadn’t disappeared.

But even through the haze of alcohol and tension, something about this felt off.

Something about him felt off.

You pulled back slightly, your breath mingling with his as you searched his gaze. His eyes were dark, unfocused, but behind them was something else—something deeper than just want.

"Yunho…" you murmured, watching as his smirk faltered for just a second.

For a brief moment, you wondered—

Was he kissing you because he wanted to?

Or was he trying to escape something else entirely?

His hands try to pull your clothes off. You grabbed his hands softly putting them down as you tried to speak.

You looked up at him, stunned. The weight of his body pressing you down, his hands pinning your wrists above your head—this wasn’t Yunho being playful, or cocky, or even possessive like before.

This was different.

This was angry.

"Yunho… please talk to me. What is going on? This isn’t like you…" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

His jaw clenched, his grip tightening just slightly. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable, something almost pained.

Then, his expression hardened.

"You didn’t come into my room to chat with me," he growled, his voice low, sharp, cutting. "You only came in here because you’re too needy and need me or Jongho to always pleasure you."

The words stung.

You stared up at him in shock, your heart twisting—not just at his accusation, but at the bitterness behind it.

This wasn’t about you.

This was about him.

Something was wrong, something deeper than just his drinking, deeper than his possessiveness.

"Yunho… why are you saying this?" you murmured, your voice careful now. You didn’t struggle against his hold, didn’t fight back, just looked at him.

His lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something. Anything.

But he didn’t.

He just stared at you, his frustration wavering, his eyes flickering between anger and irritation.

Yunho grabbed your waist and lifted you up as he sat on the bed with you on his lap.

"Fine! if you won't talk now, you will have to after this." You huffed out as he started undressing you.

Yunho’s hands moved, roaming, his touch lingering before he shifted, gripping your jaw firmly. His fingers pressed just enough to tilt your face up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

His dark eyes were unfocused, clouded by something more than just alcohol—something deeper, something broken.

"I need another drink," he muttered, his voice rough and distant.

Before you could respond, he released you, reaching for the nearly empty bottle beside him. He tipped it back, chugging the remaining liquor like it was the only thing keeping him steady.

Some of the alcohol dripped from the corner of his mouth, sliding down his jaw, but he didn’t care.

You just watched, your chest tightening, your concern outweighing everything else.

"Yunho…" you started, your voice softer now, less questioning—more worried.

But he didn’t look at you.

He just sat there for a moment, bottle still in hand, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers, he couldn’t find anywhere else.

You sighed. Yunho went to unzip his pants as he left the bottle on the corner of the bed. He was already ready, lining up his tip against your already heated and wet cunt, before pushing himself straight in. You gasped at the feeling.

"Yunho!" You whined out but he immediately places one hand over your mouth as he started thrusting in and out quickly. You moaned into his hand. His other hand gripped your waist pulling you close to his chest. You felt sensitive and your body was trembling as he continued.

"Shit." He cursed, attacking your shoulder, kissing and nipping at it as he thrusts upwards into you.

"Yunho please!" You moan into his hand gripping his arm. He moves his hands down squeezing you every chance he gets. You swayed your head back onto his shoulder, moaning and letting him take you.

The grip of Yunho’s hands tightened, his nails digging into your thighs and hips, holding you firmly in place.

"I only want you to myself," he growled, his voice low, raw, possessive.

Your breath hitched at the intensity in his eyes—dark, desperate, dangerous.

His fingers pressed deeper, claiming you, his grip bruising as if he was afraid you’d slip away.

"Forget Jongho. Forget this messy household and everyone here." His voice turned rougher, filled with something more than just desire—something almost pleading.

"Just run away with me. Let me keep you all to myself."

His teeth sank into your skin, sharp enough to make you whimper, a shiver running through you at the sensation. Your body reacted instinctively, rolling against him, the heat between you undeniable.

But behind his possessiveness, behind the way he held onto you like you were the only thing keeping him sane—

There was fear.

Yunho wasn’t just being territorial. He wasn’t just staking a claim.

He was terrified of losing you.

And that scared you more than anything else.

Very soon you felt Yunho thrust in harder last few times before coming inside. You moaned at the feeling, and he smirked caressing your body. You started breathing heavily.

Yunho’s grip on you remained tight, his arms locking around your waist as if he couldn’t let go. Your bodies were sticky with sweat, his breath ragged as he pressed his forehead against your shoulder.

His chest rose and fell heavily, matching your own uneven breathing. For a moment, neither of you moved, the room thick with heat, tension, and something unspoken.

Then, you pushed yourself up, shifting your weight to break free from his hold.

"Finally, if we’re done, I need to talk with you," you said, your voice softer now, but still firm. "But first, I need you to drink water—not alcohol."

Yunho barely had time to react before you gently pried yourself from his grip, making him fall back onto the bed with a quiet grunt.

He lay there for a moment, blinking up at you, his chest still rising and falling from exertion. His expression was unreadable—somewhere between exhaustion, amusement, and something far more complicated.

His lips parted slightly as if to protest, but when he saw the concern in your eyes, something in his gaze flickered.

He knew.

Knew that you weren’t just bossing him around. Knew that you weren’t about to let this go.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged a hand down his face, still breathless. "Tch… fine."

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you quietly slipped your clothes back on. The night had been exhausting, emotionally and physically, but you weren’t done just yet.

Yunho needed to drink—and more importantly, he needed to talk.

Stepping out of the room, you made your way to the kitchen, filling two glasses with water. The coolness of the glass against your fingers was grounding, helping you recenter yourself.

But when you returned to his room, your frustration spiked.

Yunho was already passed out.

You stopped in the doorway, staring at him sprawled across the bed, his breathing slow and steady. His face was relaxed now, the usual tension gone, his body completely surrendered to exhaustion and alcohol.

A deep sigh left your lips as you shook your head. Of course.

Walking over, you set the two glasses of water on his nightstand before picking up the now completely empty bottle. You turned it over in your hand, frowning.

How much had he even drunk before you showed up?

You tossed the bottle into the trash with a quiet clunk, then turned back toward him, arms crossed.

What the hell is going on with you, Yunho?

You didn’t have the energy to wake him now, but this—his drinking, his possessiveness, his sudden desperation—this wasn’t just going to be ignored.

So, for now, you exhaled and grabbed a blanket from the edge of the bed, gently draping it over him.

Then, without a word, you turned off the dim light and walked out, letting him sleep.

--

The storm outside hadn’t let up.

You sat in Yunho’s chair, arms crossed, your eyes trained on him as he remained sprawled across the bed. His body was still, his breathing steady, but his expression was slightly tense—even in sleep.

You had been waiting.

Waiting for him to wake up.

Waiting for answers.

Another loud boom of thunder rattled through the sky, shaking the windows slightly.

Yunho’s eyes shot open.

A low groan escaped his lips as he stirred, his body shifting under the covers. He blinked up at the ceiling, his brows furrowing as the weight of consciousness settled in.

"Ugh…" he grumbled, his voice groggy, thick with exhaustion and the remnants of alcohol.

You leaned forward slightly, watching him as he ran a hand over his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He had no idea you were there yet.

Then, as if sensing your presence, he stilled.

Slowly, his gaze drifted toward you, his eyes still slightly unfocused.

You raised a brow, tilting your head. "Good morning, sunshine."

Yunho groaned again, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. "Shit..."

"Yeah," you muttered. "We need to talk." You got up and sat on the bed next to him.

You leaned forward in the chair, your fingers gripping the armrests as you studied Yunho.

"What is going on with you, Yunho?" Your voice was softer this time, but firm, laced with genuine concern.

He didn’t answer.

The only response you got was silence.

His jaw tensed, his gaze shifting away from you as he lay there, still reeking of alcohol. The scent was strong, a harsh reminder of how much he had drowned himself in it last night.

You exhaled, trying to keep your frustration in check.

"Yunho, please." You softened your tone, standing up and walking toward the edge of the bed. "I’m worried about you."

At your words, his fingers twitched against the sheets, but he still refused to look at you.

Instead, he turned his head to the side, his jaw clenching even tighter, as if physically stopping himself from speaking.

Your chest ached at the sight.

This wasn’t the Yunho you were used to. The Yunho who was always so loud, so confident, so in control.

Right now, he looked tired.

Not just from the alcohol, not just from the night before—but from something deeper.

Something he wasn’t telling you.

You let out a quiet breath, watching him carefully before reaching out, your fingers gently brushing against his hand. Slowly, you placed your palm over his, softly caressing it, tracing slow, comforting circles with your thumb.

For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t react. That he would keep shutting you out.

But then—

"I’m stressed…" he finally admitted, his voice low, defeated.

You nodded, letting him know you heard him, letting him know that you were here.

His fingers twitched slightly under your touch, but he didn’t pull away.

"I don’t know why I chose this lifestyle…" he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost uncertain. "Why I forced myself to join and become a part of this mess…"

The rawness in his voice made your chest tighten.

He wasn’t just tired. He was lost.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his arm, leaning your head against his shoulder, offering him the only comfort you could.

Yunho’s muscles tensed for a second, like he wasn’t used to being held like this—like he wasn’t used to being comforted at all.

Then, slowly, he relaxed.

You shifted, looking up at him, and that’s when you saw it.

His eyes locked onto yours, and for the first time, they weren’t guarded.

They weren’t filled with teasing arrogance, or possessiveness, or frustration.

They were heavy weighed down by something so deep, so buried, that it had nowhere else to go.

And in that moment, you realized—

He wanted to cry.

But he couldn’t.

Not because he didn’t feel it, but because he had spent too long forcing himself to be strong.

Your grip on his arm tightened slightly, letting him know it was okay.

That he didn’t have to be strong right now.

That you weren’t going anywhere.

Yunho's voice was raw, the weight of his confession settling into the space between you.

"I hate how I got into this lifestyle..." he muttered, his words slurred slightly from the lingering effects of alcohol, but his meaning was crystal clear.

"I wish I never chose this, and I could go back to where I was normal still."

You watched him, your heart aching at the regret in his voice.

The Yunho you had always known—confident, reckless, untouchable—wasn't the man sitting in front of you right now.

This Yunho was tired.

Worn down by the choices he had made, by the life he had built for himself.

By the weight of it all.

You tightened your grip around his arm, resting your head against him again. "Then why don’t you leave it?" you asked softly. "Why not just… walk away?"

Yunho let out a bitter chuckle, his fingers curling into the sheets. "It’s not that simple."

You knew that.

You knew that once someone was in this world, leaving wasn’t easy. Maybe it wasn’t even possible.

But hearing Yunho say it, hearing the trapped sound in his voice, made it feel so much heavier.

"You don’t have to do this alone," you murmured, glancing up at him.

He didn’t respond right away, just stared ahead, his jaw clenched as if forcing himself to stay composed.

Then, finally—

"I know."

Yunho shifted slightly, leaning his head back against the headboard. His expression was unreadable, but there was a weight in his eyes—a story waiting to be told.

You hesitated before speaking, careful with your words. "So… what made you choose this lifestyle?" You exhaled softly. "If you don’t mind talking now…"

For a moment, he didn’t respond.

Then, he finally spoke.

"Hongjoong."

Your brows furrowed slightly as you listened.

"I met him in college. Well… we all met each other in college. Except Mingi—he and I were childhood friends."

His gaze lowered to where your hands still touched, his fingers twitching slightly.

"We were really poor. Most of us didn’t have families to fall back on. And the ones who did? Their parents kicked them out after graduation. So we had to survive on our own."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling in.

Yunho sighed, shaking his head. "Hongjoong was the first one to suggest it. He said we should learn how to take over and become a gang. That if the world wouldn’t give us a way to make a living, we’d make one ourselves."

You sat in silence, absorbing his words.

It wasn’t just about money.

It wasn’t about power, or thrill-seeking, or some twisted desire for control.

It was about survival.

They hadn’t just chosen this life.

They had needed it.

And suddenly, Yunho’s frustration, his drinking, his exhaustion—it all made so much more sense.

Yunho's voice was steadier now, as if talking about the past grounded him.

"Hongjoong was chosen as leader, by everyone. Popular vote." He exhaled through his nose. "Seonghwa was his second in power. They’re close—like, really close. We always considered them as… our father and mother figures, in a way."

You nodded, taking in every word, your fingers still absentmindedly tracing patterns against his arm.

"Me and Mingi? We were usually the ones guarding the place. Lookouts. I guess." His lip twitched slightly at that, but there was no real amusement behind it. "We did the dirty work. We handled threats before they even became threats."

He glanced toward the window, his fingers tapping against the sheets absentmindedly.

"Yeosang and Wooyoung, though? They worked together on the inside. The smarts. The spies."

You tilted your head slightly. "Spies?"

Yunho nodded. "Wooyoung was great at pretending to be people he wasn’t. He could slip in anywhere—get information, make deals, charm his way through places that would’ve thrown the rest of us out on sight. And Yeosang? He was the one pulling the strings from the background. Planning every move before it even happened."

You swallowed, realizing how much thought had gone into their survival. This wasn’t just some reckless group of guys playing gangster.

This was strategy.

"And Jongho?" you asked softly.

Yunho’s gaze darkened slightly. "Jongho was different."

Your brows furrowed, sensing the shift in his tone. "How?"

Yunho sighed, rubbing his temple. "Jongho and San were the ones who got their hands the dirtiest."

You felt a shiver run down your spine. The enforcer. The one who did what had to be done.

"He didn’t complain. He didn’t hesitate. When something needed to be handled, he took care of it. No questions asked." Yunho looked down at his hands. "That’s why when he got taken… it shook all of us. Because if even he could be taken down—what did that mean for the rest of us?"

Silence filled the room for a long moment.

You let Yunho's words settle, processing the weight of what he had shared.

This wasn’t just a gang. This wasn’t just a dangerous lifestyle they chose for fun.

This was a family.

A family built out of necessity.

A family that had no choice but to fight to survive.

Yunho’s words hung heavy in the air, thick with raw honesty.

"The night that guy came in to talk with Jongho about you… I didn’t trust him." His voice was quieter now, more controlled, but you could hear the weight behind it.

"I was afraid he would hurt you, and I wouldn’t be there to protect you."

Your breath hitched.

Your heart pounded harder against your chest, not expecting that confession.

He wasn’t just possessive. He wasn’t just staking a claim.

He was afraid of losing you.

Your lips parted slightly, searching his face for any sign of hesitation—but there was none.

Yunho meant what he said.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. "So you do care about me…" you murmured, locking eyes with him.

Yunho didn’t move, didn’t speak—he just stared at you, his dark gaze unreadable.

Your chest tightened at his silence, but instead of pulling away, you slowly reached forward, placing your hand over his chest.

His heart was racing.

Just as fast as yours.

You hesitated for only a moment before closing the space between you, leaning into him, your body drawn toward his warmth.

Yunho’s breath hitched this time, his hands instinctively twitching at his sides, as if debating whether or not to pull you in.

But he didn’t stop you.

He just let you come closer.

The moment your lips brushed against his, the tension that had been building between you melted.

Your kiss was slow, gentle—a stark contrast to the usual power struggle between you both. But this time, there was no battle, no teasing or taunting. Just the raw, unspoken truth between you.

Finally, Yunho gave in.

He pulled you against him, his strong arms wrapping around your waist as you straddled his lap. His grip was firm, holding you close like he needed you there, like letting you go wasn’t an option.

Between kisses, you whispered softly, "I want you to know, I care about you too…"

Yunho stilled slightly at your words, his breath hitching as if he wasn’t expecting you to say it out loud.

But before you could dwell on the moment, reality started to settle back in.

"I need to go take a shower," you murmured against his lips. "But I can come back and talk with you again after."

You tried to shift away, but his hands tightened around your waist, holding you in place.

A shiver ran down your spine at the strength in his grip. He wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

"Yunho, please… I need to take a shower," you whispered again, your breath uneven.

Instead of answering, he leaned forward, capturing your lips once more in a slow, lingering kiss.

Then, with a quiet huff, he finally loosened his hold, letting you go.

"Fine…" he muttered, his tone reluctant, watching as you slid off his lap.

You shot him a small smile before slipping out of the room, making your way back to yours.

The moment you stepped into the warm shower, the water washing over you, you let out a deep breath.

You weren’t sure where things stood with Yunho now.

You had barely stepped out of your room, your hair still damp from the shower, when you spotted them.

Jongho and Hongjoong.

They were speaking in hushed voices, their tones serious—almost warning.

You should’ve kept walking.

You should’ve just gone straight to Yunho’s room like you planned.

But then—

"I think you and Yunho are becoming too soft for Y/N..."

Hongjoong’s words froze you in place.

Your fingers hovered over Yunho’s doorknob, but suddenly, you couldn’t bring yourself to open it.

"If we enter back into this lifestyle…" Hongjoong continued, his voice laced with disappointment. "Y/N can’t be making you too soft for her. You’re both grown men, and she’s making you weak."

Your breath caught in your throat.

Weak?

Was that what Hongjoong saw you as? A distraction? A liability?

Your chest tightened, a sinking feeling settling into your stomach.

"I know…" Jongho sighed after a long pause. "I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting."

You swallowed hard, fingers curling into a fist as the weight of their conversation settled over you.

Jongho was apologizing for caring about you.

And Yunho—

What would he say if he were standing there?

Would he fight back? Would he agree?

You felt your chest tighten, the ache spreading through you as Jongho’s words echoed in your head.

He was apologizing—not for something he did wrong, but for caring about you.

Neither he nor Yunho had ever outright said they cared, but in their actions, in their possessiveness, in the way they held onto you—it had been there.

And now, here was Jongho, practically taking it back.

Like it was a mistake.

Your fingers twitched over Yunho’s doorknob, but the weight of their conversation pressed against you like an invisible force, keeping you frozen in place.

You couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t face Yunho now.

Not when Hongjoong’s words still lingered in your head. "You’re both grown men, and she’s making you weak."

With a deep inhale, you turned away from Yunho’s room, ignoring the stinging sensation behind your eyes as you walked straight to your own.

You stepped inside, shutting the door behind you—

And slammed it.

The bang echoed through the hallway.

You didn’t care.

You locked the door immediately, leaning against it as you exhaled shakily. Your heart pounded, frustration, sadness, and confusion all swirling together in your chest.

You didn’t know what you were expecting.

You just knew it wasn’t this.

Tears streamed down your face, hot and unstoppable.

Your entire body trembled, the weight of realization settling deep in your chest like a stone, heavy and suffocating.

They never cared about you.

Why the fuck would they?

You were just someone they owned. Someone they let live here in exchange for whatever they wanted from you.

This whole time, you had thought there was something more—that maybe, beneath the possessiveness, beneath the way they held onto you so tightly, there was a real connection.

But no.

It was never about you.

It was about control.

Their damn possessiveness wasn’t out of care. It wasn’t because they cherished you.

It was because they were greedy.

They didn’t want to lose their favorite toy.

That was all you were.

An object they could keep playing with.

A distraction that Hongjoong saw as a weakness.

You sat there, completely still, lost in the spiraling thoughts running through your mind.

This life you had thrown yourself into, the only life you had known for years—

It was crumbling around you.

And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you could keep pretending it wasn’t.

•

A/N: ... (I got nothing) LMAO

E/N: Anyone want boba?

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Pretty like the wind

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n Part eight! Buckle up, that's all I will say. Much love.🤍🥹

warning: kids, past trauma, wing clipping, wounds, blood, all the horrors of Illyrian camps.

Not proof read yet!!!

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The room felt warm and quiet. You could hear people talking outside as they passed by, but it didn't bother you. The sound was muffled enough to mix and twirl with the sounds of the river. You had no idea when the last time you slept so peacefully was. Not a single night terror. Not a single flinch. There was no need to jump up every time an unknown sound filled the room. This felt safe. Happy. You blinked a couple of times. You could tell that the room was brightly illuminated by the morning sun, but no direct sunlight hit your eyes. Now you know why. Azriel had his wing wrapped around you, the bridge of it acting as your shield against the careless beam of light. You reached up mindlessly, brushing the tips of your fingers over the delicate leather, making Azriel growl ever so slightly.

You moved to turn towards him. Last night felt like a dream. Cordelia, Azriel's mother, had welcomed you with so much love that it was overwhelming. Zofie and Axel were high on attention. They sang all the songs they knew and even danced together. You had never seen them so lively. So eager to be on the receiving end of attention. Sure, they enjoyed the activities in the sanctuary. But most of them were mandatory. Children had to attend classes and have afternoon activities. And yes, they smiled while doing it, but it never came close to the smile that shined on their faces last night.

You moved your hand to the side, where Zofie usually slept. Eager to brush your fingers through her, no doubt, messy hair since she was way too tired last night to detangle her curls. But all you were met with were the cold sheets. Your heart instantly sank. Your body jolted as you sat up, pushing Azriel's wing away.

"Where are they?", your words came out almost breathless as you looked across the room. There was no sign of Axel either. A warm palm moved to caress your lower back. "Hey, calm down", the spymaster's voice was low and husky. Laced with deep sleep. And even if you wanted to bask in the sight of him, your anxious brain quickly pushed the image of him sprawled out next to you away. "Azriel", you hissed, moving to get out of bed, but he quickly caught your wrist. "They are with my mom", he muttered. "Alone?", your eyes darted towards the window. So many what-ifs were clouding your vision.

"Get back in bed", you felt a tug on your hand. But it was not only the fear for your kids that clawed at you. You two hadn't talked after the kiss. You sat on his lap last night. He had an arm wrapped around your lower back. A feathery kiss here and there. But... what if it was just a high of the moment? What if he had changed his mind? The next tug was way stronger. Azriel practically dragged you up and over his chest. As if it was nothing. As if moving your body around was the easiest thing ever.

"Azriel", you huffed, trying to fight against his touch but knowing full well that there was no way you were getting away from him. So you turned to face him. His loving eyes were already gazing at you. The shadowsinger made a quick move by pushing some of the loose strands of your hair away from your eyes before muttering, "My shadows are with them. They are safe. Mom is looking after them". You opened your mouth to argue with him, but he cut in quickly, "They are eating street pancakes now". A light smile tugged at his lips. A knowing one. "How do...", you muttered. "I see through my shadows. They are safe and happy", Azriel said with a little chuckle, no doubt watching these two do something they probably shouldn't.

"And before you ask, yes, they have mittens on", Azriel jabbed his fingers into your side, making you squirm. "Fuck you", you huffed, rolling your eyes. A deep chuckle slipped through his lips. "I would not decline", the spymaster said in a teasing manner. You gapped at him, shoving at his shoulder. "Azriel", you winced, hating how your cheeks were already getting crimson. "You say my name awfully often this morning, love", he breathed out innocently. But the embarrassment that ran through you had you hiding your face in his neck. Azriel instantly opted to run his palm up and down your back. Fingers innocently brushing against the ham of the shirt you had on. His shirt. Because magically, all of your nightgowns had disappeared, and last night you didn't want to argue with Azriel about it. A tight pang ran through your chest. Brushing a dark layer over the sweet moment. It all felt too good. Too nice. Too calm. You had never... never had a chance to have a boyfriend growing up, so, love, let's say it's been tucked deeply into your chest. Dusty, forgotten. So it couldn't just come undone so easily. Right?

"Stop worrying", Azriel grumbled. You could feel the way his chest moved with every word that he spoke. The fact that he could read you so well when, for so many years, no one could... "I can't", you muttered so quietly. Voice barely a whisper. Azriel quickly shifted, pulling just enough for him to see your face. "Do you think I would seriously let them do something that would put them in harm's way?", his voice was much more serious now. There's not a thread of that teasing undertone. Puff. Gone. A soldier made of steel.

You shake your head, "No", you hate the doubt that still rumbles deep within your gut. "I'm just scared to let them go... I don't know", you admitted, shrugging your shoulders. Azriel quickly cupped your face and turned your attention back to him. "You gave them a chance at a beautiful life, love. This just adds to it". You let out a sigh. "Well, so did you", you smiled at Azriel softly, finger running over his eyebrows, trying to learn every detail of his face. "They adore you", you humed after a moment of silence. The memory of Zofie and Axel making this hulk of a male twirl in the kitchen last night flushed through your mind. "I adore you", Azriel mused softly. You couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "Smooth", you muttered, shaking your head.

But you're met with Azriel's dazed eyes. As if there's nothing he would rather be looking at than you. As if you are the most important thing right now. "You look pretty", and it's the endless love-sick words that cause you to drop your gaze as you try to hide your face from him. "Very funny", you mutter. You could only imagine how disheveled you looked. Messy hair, no makeup. Not put together at all. Most males would run. But not Azriel, as you feel his fingers moving over your bare thighs. "I'm serious. It's like you're... glowing", and you can't take his adorations any longer as you move closer to him, reaching for his face. "What are you doing?", Azriel says as you move to straddle his hips. You only throw him a grin and say, "Keeping your mouth busy."

You two were halfway through your breakfast when the door creaked open and fits of giggles filled the place. You nearly fell back as you moved to stand up, hurrying towards the hallway. Too long. They had been away from you for too long. Waking up without them next to you had left you anxious, no matter the distractions. "Y/n", cheerful squealing filled the space as the two kids took off towards you, muddy shoes still on. "My babies", you kneeled instantly, opening your arms to them. Not minding the cool material of their winter clothes, dampened by the snow.

But keeping them still seemed impossible. Too much energy and excitement still bubbled within their tiny bodies. "You would not believe it! There's a fountain with spinning water fairies", Axel beamed, his hands flailing upwards as he showed you different shapes. "And there are golden flowers, too", Zofie pulled at your hand eagerly. "That sounds beautiful. I hope you were behaving nicely", you looked at the two of them as they nodded their heads.

Azriel watched you from the doorway. Arms crossed over his chest. He had seen the things they had gone up to, so it was you who had his full attention. The way the blanket of worry melted away. Leaving the smell of happiness behind. No longer was there a painful tug deep within him. The pain seemed glossed over. Gone simply. Watching you smile at the two kids, he suddenly realized that he would be fine with watching you like this forever. In reality, it seemed as if he needed nothing else. "Granny bought us roasted chestnuts to try", now those words had made Azriel bite down on his breath, and from your way, your shoulders stiffened; he knew that it struck you too. Granny. Azriel wondered how long it would take his mother to usher the kids to her side. Even if his childhood was horrible, his mother was the only thing keeping him alive. That hour, which Azriel was allowed to spend with her, always fueled him. Ignited enough strength so the tiny bat would not crumble completely.

"These two had stolen the whole town's hearts", Cordelia mused happily, arms full with bags, Azriel moved swiftly, taking them from her. A knowing look on her face said it all. Azriel didn't need to say anything. If he could fool his brothers, he could never fool his mother. "Did you two say thank you?", you gave both of the kids a look, and they once again nodded eagerly. Not missing a beat. Cordelia smiled right back at them.

"Y/N, can I have a quick word?" The older lady turned your way, and dread instantly bloomed within you. You threw Azriel a look, but he just shrugged his shoulders before turning to the two troublemakers, drawing shapes in the mud that they stomped inside. "Let's get you two washed up", he said, lifting the two of them easily, each resting in the crook of Azriel's armpits, laughing hysterically.

"I hope they haven't caused too much trouble, ma'am", you stood up quickly, smoothing the wrinkles in your dress. Making a mental note to mop the floors after. "Sweetheart, I thought we agreed on Cordelia", she shook her head in disbelief, but the smile didn't leave her face. "And it's not about the kids...", her eyes followed the noise coming from the end of the hallway. You could hear the mixture of laughter drowning out the silent walls. "It's about my boy", Cordelia breathed.

You watched her gaze get distant for a moment before she squeezed your hand. "My boy, I see the way he looks at you. Last night he couldn't keep his eyes off you", your cheeks heated at her words. You thought the glances were careful. Not too obvious, but it seemed you had been wrong.

"He's a handful at times, but... when he loves... he loves with all that he has", sadness lined her words now. You knew snippets of his past. Who hadn't? The whole court drummed with stories of him. His arms were a dead giveaway of his traumatic upbringing. But you never held that against him. It was a part of him. A part that needed to be loved just as much. "Don't play with his heart", Cordelia's last words came out more like a plea, and your heart bled alongside hers.

"I'll cherish it; I will", You turned to the elderly lady, taking both of her hands into hers. She threw you one of her signature-knowing looks. "Promise to bring my grandchildren around often. Been waiting way too long for them", you can't help but chuckle lightly. You doubted you would be able to hold Zofie and Axel away even if you wanted. They had fallen hard for the love they never got to experience. A grandmother's love. You turned to reach for the rest of the scattered things when Cordelia caught your hand. "And, YN", she said softly, "You were meant to find each other". It felt as if your chest hallowed out for a moment before filling with so much light that it was almost too painful to bear.

Azriel grew more worried as the day moved toward the evening. He was planning and talking with Rhys through his mind. Setting up the final times for the dinner. Shoving Rhys smug ass right out when his brothers started teasing. He was nervous. Was he nervous? He realized now that he had never brought anyone around. Well, he wasn't an innocent man. The three of them had shared females in the same room while they were young. But this wasn't that. This was so much more than that. The thought of having to share you with anyone made Azriel's blood run thick. No, you were his. As much as he didn't want to grow possessive, his scent had mingled with yours. In the same way, notes of oranges and vanilla were now intertwined with his musky scent, in more than one way, you had became his.

A thud from behind the closed door made Azriel lift his head. Axel and he had been waiting in the living room for you and Zofie to get ready. And while Axel had been fully occupied with the book that Cordelia had slipped into his hands, Azriel was growing impatient. He hadn't seen you for over a couple of hours. A couple of hours too long that was.

He heard you hissing Zofie's name, making his eyebrows scrunch. "What's going on in there", the spymaster muttered under his breath. Mostly to himself. So he was more than surprised when he heard a response,"You know females", Axel laughed under his breath, not lifting his eyes from the pages. "Axel", Azriel brushed his hand over his stubble as he tried to contain his smile. That boy was seriously way too smart for his age. Azriel chose to stay back until he could hear the frustrated stomping; that was enough to pull him from his chair.

"Can I come in?", he breathed after knocking softly. The door opened almost immediately, and Mother have mercy on him. He was ready to fall to his knees as his eyes landed on you. Wavy hair falling behind your shoulder, and a deep blue velvet dress hugging every curve of your body. And all of a sudden, the top button of Azriel's shirt felt too tight, cutting off the normal airflow, pants too itchy. The spymaster quickly pulled his eyes away from you, trying to find something else to look at.

"What's wrong", he tried to peek behind your shoulder. Getting a glimpse of Zofie with her hands crossed over her chest. You let out a sigh as you stepped aside, "She doesn't like her hair". Azriel strided ahead, moving toward the little ball of frustration, glaring at the floor as if it had done something to personally offend her.

"Hey, what's wrong?", Azriel directs the question at Zofie, who only pouts harder. "My hair", the girl tugs at her messy curls, the color of the night itself. As wild as her too. "I think it looks pretty", Azriel says softly, but Zofie is quiet enough to throw him a look that tells him that she's not buying his bullshit, no matter how hard he tried. Azriel just shakes his head in disbelief. These kids... His eyes catch a glimpse of a light blue ribbon, his hand reaching towards it almost subconsciously. "Come, sit on my lap", the shadowsinger urges the girl up the bed before his fingers brush through her long hair. And soon he finds himself in that long-forgotten rhythm of braiding someone's hair.

The rest of the evening was a big blur. Brushing at Axel's shirt. Reassuring Zofie that there was nothing to fear. Cordelia waving you all goodbye. Azriel talking, but you barely heard him through your panic. And then there's Rhys walking towards you all on his massive balcony, arms outstretched.

"Welcome, I was worried Azriel had hidden you in his cave", the high lord jabbed at his brother, making Azriel roll his eyes. But he doesn't say anything; his attention is more focused on Zofie, who has her head hidden in the crook of his neck.

"It's good to see you here, darling", Rhys reaches for your hands, and even if you know this man, had seen him at his lowest, it still feels weird being here like this. You work in his sanctuary. You are summoned by him. But it's only his office you agree to go to. Only if he winnows you straight there and back. And you know deep down that you two are linked in more than one way, but you push those thoughts away.

"It's good to be here", you say, smiling up at him. "Hope my brother didn't give you too much of a hard time", Rhys chimed, making you turn towards Azriel, who stood there more than unimpressed. "I'll issue you a paycheck", you chuckle, and you could swear that even Azriel's lip twitched with a smile for a moment.

"Uff, right in the nuts", another, much louder voice cuts in, followed by the sound of heels clicking against the tiles. "Cassian, there are kids around", a female tugged at the winged male's shirt tightly, but that only made his grin wider. "I've seen your head", and it's Axel who's pointing his little finger at the high lord. You quickly bat his finger away, shaking your head at him for the inappropriate gesture. But Rhys doesn't seem to mind as he leans closer to the boy, "And I've heard that you're growing up to be quite a soldier", your eyes darted up to Azriel. Had he been talking about you all with his family? Well, of course, he planned this, but... you can plan something without talking about the person you bring. But Azriel has a proud smile on his face as he watches the boy, and the way his eyes grow big. "Will give us competition, huh", Cassian adds, and you could swear Axel holds himself even taller as he glances at the two males, nodding.

"Why don't we all go inside", a female moves to wrap her arm around Rhys. You don't even need her to introduce herself; you know who she is, Feyre. You've seen her through Rhys's eyes, and, well, she's even more beautiful in person. "Come, my son is excited to meet you too, bud", Rhys reaches for Axel, who clasps the lord's hand tightly. You feel Azriel's hand on the small of your back as he ushered you towards the glass door.

The evening is nothing but lovely. The food is delicious, and the conversation flows surprisingly easily. The light-teasing remarks and jokes that keep flying left and right slowly eat at the tension in your shoulders. And sure, they all seem nice, but you also understand why being here would hurt Azriel. You would have to be blind to not see the amount of love that pours out of the two couples. And even if you were blind, you would still feel it. It's in the air. The looks. The touches. You imagine how lonely it must have been for Azriel. How... your hand reaches for his beneath the table, giving it a little squeeze. The spymaster glances your way, a light smile tugging at his lips.

Your eyes dart toward the three kids next. Nyx is about Zofie's age, and quite frankly, from the moment he saw her, he's been looking at her as if she's hung the stars in the sky. But the two are way too shy to talk to one another. So it's Axel who's been babbling away all evening. You can't help but smile once more. It would be lovely for them to have another friend. Someone out of their circle. And Nyx has wings too. Him and Axel could learn together. The boy practically has a heart of gold, so you're nothing but sure that he would never make fun of Axel for the way his wings were. Considering that that hadn't been brought up ever once tonight.

Just suddenly, the door burst. You don't even get to turn your head to the side before you feel Azriel moving to stand up; the absence of him is instantly unsettling. And then you see it. Someone you knew was missing from this table all along.

"Elain", Azriel's voice is filled with disbelief, and your gut curls into itself. You grip your fork tightly. What right did you have to get upset over this? You watch the surprise rippling through the female, who looks shocked to see Azriel. It doesn't help that she's gorgeous too. From her perfectly braided hair to her light pink dress, she's the complete opposite of you. "Azriel?", she says, shaking her head before leaping into his arms. And something about that hug. The way he's holding onto her sides and the way she has her arms wrapped around his neck makes you want to run away and hide. You feel a light tug at your side, turning to find the two kids now by your chair. Big eyes, full of questions, watching you.

"I thought...", the female stuttered, right as another male walked through the door, still fixing his shirt. "We do apologize for being late", his dark red hair swaying as he moved towards the table. "No, I'm aware that you two have been busy", Rhys purred back with a smirk. A knowing look painted the autumn male's features. "You... you accepted the bond?", Azriel muttered, and it's as if he's freely chosen to take chunks of your heart out tonight. And you're ready to talk and listen about anything but this. You don't want to be here anymore. Anything, you plead, give me anything.

As if summoned by you, a paper note falls right onto Rhys's plate. The male startles for a moment before reaching for it. His face darkens more and more as his eyes race through the words. The high lord's eyes meet yours over the table, "North Camp," and that's all you need to hear before moving to get up.

The dinner is long forgotten after that. Rhys winnows everyone back to the sanctuary. The grip Zofie and Axel have on you is making it hard for you to move. The troupe is getting armed, and you know that you need to be doing the same. "I want to go to Grammy", Zofie says quietly into your skirt. You kneel in front of them, "We can't go now. You two will have to stay in our old room", you say softly. You never had to leave with them present, and suddenly you realize why. Leaving them like this is more than painful.

"I can take them," Feyre cuts in. You saw the way all color disappeared from her face when she saw all of these kids and females in front of her. "You two hear that, high lady will take you to Cordelia", you cup their faces gently. "And Azriel?", Axel looks around, trying to spot the tall figures through the sea of bodies. "I don't know, bud. He was never a part of our world anyway", you hate the words that slip past your lips the moment you see confusion running through the boy's eyes. Your petty hurt is the last thing they need now. So, you kiss both of their foreheads and say, "Don't get into too much trouble without me", you flick both of their noses playfully before stepping away quickly. Turning from them so they won't see the tears on your face.

"Stay close", the voice alone has a shiver running down your back. You turn to face him. Azriel is in full Illyrian leathers, striding towards you. "Don't make this complicated", you hiss through clenched teeth, putting a dagger in the strap around your thighs. "I'm trying to keep you safe", there's that same pleading tone in his voice, but you no longer buy it. Not after tonight. Not after his whole body changed when he saw Elain.

"I was perfectly safe before you came around", you bite back. And you know, the words sting. Taking Azriel by surprise, almost. But you don't know what he expected. For you to bounce back? To not mind. "Take your brothers, go to the upper camp, and find the kids", you say bluntly. You know you are in no position to order him around, but you don't care anymore. Azriel opens his mouth as if to say something before closing it back up. You shake your head at him. And he's left to watch you rush towards the sanctuary soldiers, shouting commands before your hands disappear into a glowing light and everything grows static for a moment. As if your powers had managed to slow down time, draw elements from the air around everyone.

Azriel can't shake the sick feeling as he winnows alongside his brothers. He caught the disapproving look on Rhys's face, but the male said nothing. Deep down, Azriel knows that's not the thing that's making him uncomfortable. He didn't say anything to the kids. He tried to look for them in the sea of people but to no avail. He only found you because a soldier directed him. It's as if you didn't want to be seen by him. His head was a mess; it was not how he imagined the night to go. And Elain and Lucien... It took him by surprise, but he was happy for them. Elain reeked of the autumn male, and Lucien swaggering in all disheveled was a true cherry on top. But they were meant to be together.

"Front door", Rhys murmured through the mind bond, and Azriel only nodded before kicking the door open. The three males inched inside. The letter looked sketchy if Azriel was being honest. A sacrifice. The camp leader made a sacrifice to make a point. Show Rhys that he had no powers up in the mountains. With kids held in the upper cabin before the slaughter. And he could hear the cries, but no matter where they looked, there wasn't a single body in the house.

"What the fuck is this?", Cassian cursed as he yanked yet another door open, only to be met with the same nothingness. "Basement?", Rhys asked, his eyes scanning the floorboards. But they all knew there was no way; the sound was coming from the side. And then Azriel felt it. As if someone reached into his chest, yanked his heart out, and ripped it to pieces right in front of him. Shier panic washed over him. "Y/N," he breathed, stepping towards the front door. "The sounds are illusions", he hissed through gritted teeth. "A trap", Rhys said in disbelief as the same worry coursed through his veins. "Y/n!", a roar slipped past Azriel's lips.

Something felt off, and you could feel it. There were two little people in this camp. No commotion. You couldn't even feel the heartbeats. So what were you slowing down? You looked around, trying to catch the sigh of a single soldier. Your head up to reach for the daggers and do your scope, but there was no one here. A shiver ran down your back. And then the birds fled from the mountains. Rumbling as the snow fell from the top. Whatever caused that to happen...

But you don't get to finish the thought. You heard it before you saw it. You felt it before you could even register what was happening. A painful sob slipped past your lips as an arrow pierced your left wrist. You staggered back. Warm blood trickling down your palm instantly. No, there was no way. You barely lifted your head as another arrow hit your right palm. You let out a cry. Your vision growing hazy. Fear bubbled deep within you. You tried to summon through the pain, but the more you moved your hands, the more blood you were losing.

And then you saw a group of males, all with iron armor. "Fuck", you cursed under your breath, trying to get up and move away. But the arrows must have been dipped in venom. You stumbled, making the males laugh as they slowly inched closer towards you. "Azriel", you muttered quietly. "Azriel, please", your eyes slowly started burning with tears.

"Well, well, well...", one of the males grabbed at your ankle, dragging you through the muddy ground towards them. "Two for two, it's my lucky day, boys", the other pulled at your hands, breaking off the tips of the arrows, causing you to scream out in agony. "Please", you pleaded once more.

I'm almost there. Hold on, love. Hold on for me. Azriel's voice filled your head, and you couldn't help but let out a choked-out sob at that. "Why don't we end it once and for all? Pay your daddy an omega", one of the males pulled you up by the hair right as the other threw him a dagger.

"Any last words, princess?", his voice was thick in your ear. But you don't finish. You don't make another move. Reaching deep within yourself, you wrap your hands around the glowing golden thread, caressing it softly one more time before whispering, "I'm sorry". They erupt with laughter; but they don't need to know that those words aren't for them. And then you close your eyes right as the cold blade touches your throat.

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Taglist: @naturakaashi @hoemadegrace

[pamwritessometimes]

What he doesn’t know

Sam Winchester x witch!reader

Summary: You’re hiding two dangerous secrets from Sam. Little did you know, he’s just uncovered one, but it’s not the one you think.

Warnings: none?

The night was heavy, the air thick with tension. You sat at the edge of the squeaky motel bed, fingers nervously twisting an emerald green ring on your hand. It was a gift from your mother and in the lowest moments of your life, or just whenever you felt nervous, you fidgeted with it. And now, now was the most nervous you’ve ever been. It had been weeks — hell, months now, months of this dance with Sam Winchester.

You met him and his older brother while they tried to take down a vengeful spirit in the library you were working at the time. Once they found out you were more than aware of the supernatural — what’s more, a hunter of evil yourself — they decided to invite you to join them on occasional hunts. What they didn’t know was that you weren’t just a regular hunter, but something else…something they and you should be hunting.

It was over a week ago when Sam called you for help on a certain ghoul hunt. When you arrived at the motel you agreed to meeting at, you were surprised to see the classic Impala of the Winchesters’ nowhere in sight. It was unusual. You had went on numerous hunting trips with the boys; the Impala, Dean’s Baby was always a pivotal part of the journey. When you knocked on the door of the room Sam said he’d rented, you were surprised to see Sam, and Sam only, in the room. Turns out Dean ditched this one.

Doing a hunt with Sam was hard. The stolen glances, the lingering accidental touches. It was driving you insane. Not knowing what he thought, not knowing how long your secret could stay hidden. You weren’t just another hunter passing through his life. You were a witch. A born-hunter. But life played the cruelest joke on you possible. It was a secret you’d kept buried since the moment you met him. It was a dangerous game, falling for someone who, by all rights, would probably see you as the enemy if he ever found out. But you couldn’t help it. Sam was different; kind, strong, thoughtful in a way that made your chest tighten every time he was near.

Tonight, though, something felt off. The hunt was over and you two decided to stay just one more night to take a well-deserved rest. He had been watching you all day, his brow furrowed like he was trying to piece something together. Every time you caught his eye, your stomach twisted with dread. What if he knew?

You heard the door creak open, and Sam stepped back inside, his tall frame filling the room. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, eyes locked on you like he could see right through your skin.

“Sam?” you started, your voice unsteady. He seemed so tense and so confused, you wondered what Dean could’ve told him when he went out to inform him about the success of the hunt. “Is something wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he crossed the room slowly, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor until he was standing right in front of you. His gaze was piercing and unreadable, which made your heart race in your chest. “You’ve been acting different lately.”

Your pulse quickened. You tried to keep your expression calm, but panic clawed at you. Had he found out? Had he somehow figured out the magic that simmered just beneath the surface?

“I—” You struggled for words, anything that might explain away the tension between you. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Sam’s jaw clenched, and he took a step closer, so close now you could feel the warmth radiating off him. His voice dropped to a low, husky murmur. “You’re hiding something from me.”

Your breath hitched as the panic bubbled up. This was it. He knew. Somehow he must have figured it out. And there was no going back. “Sam, I…”

But he didn’t let you finish. His hand came up, his fingers brushing gently against your red cheek and the touch made your heart skip a beat. His eyes were softer now, but still filled with that intensity that always left you breathless.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. There was something raw in his tone, something that made you ache.

You blinked, your mind racing a million miles per hour. Did he already know? Was he waiting for you to confess? You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the fear. “I… I didn’t know how.”

His eyes searched yours like he was trying to read your soul. “You didn’t have to be scared” he said softly, his thumb now tracing the line of your jaw.

Your chest tightened painfully. He was still touching you, still standing so close, and it made your head spin. His presence always had this effect on you. But why was he being so gentle? Why wasn’t he angry? “Sam, I—”

“I already know” he said, cutting you off again, his eyes locked on yours.

Your heart plummeted. He knew. How long had he known? Weeks? Months? And he still stood here, looking at you like—

Wait. He wasn’t looking at you with anger or betrayal. He was looking at you with something else entirely. Something… softer.

Your stomach flipped. “You know?”

Sam nodded, his hand still cupping your cheek, thumb brushing lightly across your skin. “Dean told me.”

You blinked, confusion clouding your thoughts. “Wait… what are we talking about?” you asked. You are certain you would remember if you had told Dean that you were a witch. But you kept this secret from everyone around you, especially the Winchesters.

Now it was Sam’s turn to look confused. “You’re in love with me, right?” he asked sheepishly, now contemplating whether Dean fucked him up or not.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Your mouth fell open slightly as the realization hit you. He didn’t know you were a witch. He thought you were hiding something else entirely.

“I— what?” You asked, your mind desperately trying to keep up. And then you remembered. It all came back in a blur. Sam, Dean and you were celebrating a successful hunt a couple of weeks ago at a rundown bar. You decided to clear the rum supply as a celebratory activity and in a blurry, dizzy moment of yours you managed to spill your feelings towards Sam to Dean. That bastard. He set up you two to come and do this hunt alone. It all was his genius idea.

Sam pulled back slightly, a cautious, almost embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I mean, I wasn’t sure at first… but you’ve been acting so different. And Dean told me that you— I thought maybe you were avoiding me because of… you know, how you feel.” he stammered, mentally contemplating how to murder Dean for making him look like a fool in front of you.

You stared at him, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. He thought the secret you were hiding was your feelings for him. The irony of it almost made you laugh. But instead, you just stood there, frozen, unsure of what to say.

“I—Sam, it’s not…” You started, but your voice faltered under the weight of his hopeful gaze. There was hope in his eyes to which you couldn’t say no to.

He took a deep breath and he stepped closer again, his hand slipping from your cheek to rest gently, almost hesitantly on your waist. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way” he said softly, though you could hear the disappointment in his voice,“I just… I needed you to know that I—”

Your mind was spinning, torn between the truth you had been hiding and the one Sam thought he had discovered. You opened your mouth to tell him the truth — the other truth — but the words wouldn’t come. You weren’t ready.

You let out a shaky breath. “Sam…” you said and cut him off.

His eyes flickered with hope again, and this time, you didn’t stop yourself. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, and pressed your lips to his in a kiss that was soft at first, hesitant. But the moment Sam responded, pulling you closer, it deepened, and all the tension, all the fear melted away. Momentarily, though.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his and both of you were breathing hard. You felt his hand tighten gently around your waist, keeping you close.

“You do feel the same” he murmured, a genuine smile almost audible in his voice as he spoke.

You nodded, closing your eyes, not ready to speak the whole truth just yet. For now, it didn’t matter. For now, the only truth that mattered was the one that made your heart grow fonder.

Thanks for reading. 🤍

Sorry for any mistakes, English isn’t my first language.

[nuyhado3o]

Untitled #1

Hyunjin x afab!reader

Warnings: smut, kinda cringe tbf, it's a pt.2 to Bermuda Triangle, p in v, lit hitting it raw

Summary: After surviving the dating scandal, you and Hyunjin finally find some peace. But with your careers still in the spotlight, stolen moments become even more precious—leading to nights filled with whispered promises, gentle touches, and love that refuses to be hidden.

Pt.1

The world still watched you. The cameras still followed. But somehow, against all odds, you and Hyunjin had made it through.

The scandal had died down, buried under newer, more sensational headlines. Neither of your companies had outright confirmed or denied the rumors, leaving fans to draw their own conclusions. Some believed you were nothing more than close friends. Others were convinced your relationship had ended. But the truth lay in the quiet moments—when the world wasn’t watching.

Like now.

A soft breath escaped your lips as you leaned against Hyunjin’s chest, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat calming you. The two of you lay tangled together on his couch, the dim glow of the city lights casting shadows through the large windows. Rain tapped lightly against the glass, the sound mixing with the slow, lazy music playing in the background.

“We should probably be more careful,” you murmured, fingers tracing small patterns on his arm.

Hyunjin hummed, his lips pressing a lazy kiss against your temple. “Probably,” he agreed, though the way his fingers skimmed over your waist told you he wasn’t thinking about being careful right now.

You smiled, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His dark eyes held a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine—a look that was entirely reserved for you.

“You’re staring,” you teased.

“I can’t help it.” His voice was quiet, husky. “You’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, and Hyunjin grinned, clearly pleased by your reaction. He never missed a chance to remind you how much he adored you, whether through whispered confessions, lingering touches, or the way his gaze softened whenever you were near.

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side so he could properly face you. His fingers tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear before trailing down your jaw. His touch was featherlight, but it sent a thrill through you nonetheless.

“You have no idea how hard it is,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your brows furrowed slightly. “What is?”

“Being around you all the time and not being able to do this.”

Before you could respond, his lips met yours in a slow, lingering kiss. His hand cradled the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, his scent—something clean and intoxicatingly familiar—wrapping around you.

The world outside didn’t matter. Not the cameras, not the fans, not the ever-present risk. Right now, it was just you and him.

His lips left yours only to trail soft kisses along your jaw, down the column of your neck. A shaky breath escaped you, your fingers tightening around his shirt as he hovered over you.

“Hyun…” you murmured, your voice breathless.

He pulled back slightly, his lips curving into a smile as he took in your dazed expression. “I love when you say my name like that,” he mused, brushing his nose against yours.

You rolled your eyes playfully, though your heart still pounded in your chest. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it.”

You did. You loved him—every ridiculous, infuriating, breathtaking part of him.

His fingers trailed lazily down your side, his touch sending electricity through your skin. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t pushing. Just savoring the moment. And that was what made it all the more intoxicating.

You let yourself melt into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pulled him back down into another kiss. This one was softer, slower—filled with unspoken promises.

'I've been waiting for this all day'

he whispered, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. He rose from the couch, his tall frame moving with a grace that belied his strength. Gently, he took your hands in his, his warm palms soothing against your cold skin.

'Let's make tonight about us and forget the world outside.'

You smiled, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. The past few months had been a blur of stress and anxiety, but Hyunjin's unwavering support had kept you grounded.

'I want that more than anything'

You replied, your voice soft and full of emotion. As if in silent agreement, you moved closer, your bodies gravitating towards each other like magnets. Hyunjin's fingers intertwined with yours, and he pulled you gently, leading you towards the bedroom. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows on the walls, creating an intimate atmosphere as you walked side by side.

'You're breathtaking'

he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your cheek, then your jawline, sending tingles down your neck.

'I need you'

You whispered, your voice barely audible.

Hyunjin responded by capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His mouth moved with urgency, as if he had been longing for this moment for an eternity. You melted into him, your hands sliding up his broad chest, relishing the feel of his muscles beneath your palms. His kiss was a promise, a declaration of his love and desire, and you returned it with equal fervor.

Breaking the kiss for air, Hyunjin trailed soft kisses along your jawline, down your neck, eliciting a soft moan from you. His hands roamed over your body, mapping every curve, as if he were learning you all over again. He unbuttoned your blouse, his fingers deft and gentle, revealing your delicate lace bra.

'Please'

You whispered, your voice laced with need.

Hyunjin obliged, his mouth claiming yours once more as he skillfully removed your blouse and bra, baring your upper body to his hungry gaze. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses as he worshipped your body with his touch. He unhooked your skirt, letting it fall to the floor, and stepped back to admire you.

'You're perfect'

he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Standing before him in nothing but your underwear, You felt vulnerable yet empowered by Hyunjin's intense gaze. His eyes roamed over you, taking in every inch of your body, making you feel like the most desirable woman alive. Hyunjin stepped forward, his body pressing against yours, and you could feel his arousal against your stomach. He kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roamed freely over your curves. Your hands found their way to his belt, and you began to unbuckle it, eager to return the pleasure he was giving her.

'I want you'

he rasped, his voice thick with desire. He lifted you into his arms, carrying you to the bed, and laid you down gently. He stood for a moment, taking in the sight of you, his eyes dark with passion.

Your heart raced as you watched him undress, revealing his sculpted body. He joined you on the bed, his skin warm against yours, and they kissed hungrily, their bodies aligning perfectly. Hyunjin's hand slid down your body, his fingers slipping beneath her panties, finding your wetness.

'You feel so good'

he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. He teased you, building your desire, until you were squirming beneath him, begging for more.

Hyunjin positioned himself between your thighs, his hardness pressing against your entrance. He looked into your eyes, seeking permission, and you nodded, your eyes filled with love and trust. Slowly, he entered you, filling her with a sensation that was both familiar and thrilling.

'I love you'

he panted, his voice strained as he fought for control.

'I love the way you feel around me.'

'I love you too. This is where I belong.'

Your pace quickened, driven by the intensity of their emotions. Hyunjin's movements became more urgent, his body demanding release. You matched his rhythm, your nails digging into his back, urging him on. Your breath mingled, your hearts racing, as they soared towards the peak of pleasure.

With a final, powerful thrust, Hyunjin buried himself deep within you, and you both cried out, your bodies trembling as they reached their climax together. You held each other tightly, your hearts pounding in unison, as the waves of pleasure washed over you.

As their breathing slowed, Hyunjin rolled onto his side, pulling you close, your bodies still entwined. He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, and your lips, savoring the taste of you.

'You're incredible'

he murmured, his voice filled with wonder.

'So are you'

You whispered, tracing his features with your fingertips. Hyunjin held you tighter, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

'We'll get through anything as long as we have each other. Our love is stronger than any scandal.'

In that moment, you knew your love would endure, no matter what challenges lay ahead. As you lay in each other's arms, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of your embrace and the whispered promises of a love that would last a lifetime.

A/n: THIS IS SO SHITTYYYYY THIS IS SO SHIT DONT EVEN READ IT IM SERIOUSSSSS. Keep me away from smut don't let me write ever again jesus.